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heazueken · 4 months ago

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Hi, I saw you were taking requests ? I just read your vastaya!Jayce fic and it was really really good and since you're open to requests, I wondered, why not try ? If it's alright ?

I just had that thought that... I don't think Jayce ever saw Viktor crying. Crying is often a byproduct of sadness or frustration but also sometimes joy. Or sometimes, it's a "everything is just too much and I need to purge it" and I think Viktor would really benefit from a good cry. I don't know, I just have this really vivid image of Jayce whipping away Viktor's tears with his thumb, or kissing the corner of his eyes and comfort him ?

thanks a lot if you have the time or inspiration to give it a shot but otherwise it's more than fine ! I hope you have a good day !

thank you so much omg! i had a ton of fun writing it if you couldn’t tell lol!

when i read this request i immediately thought you want my dead. reminding me of this, i view viktor as so restrained and someone who bottles up his feelings bc who the hell can he go to? i hope what ive written expresses that and i appreciate you and everyone’s patience for my writing :) i hope you enjoy!

wc; 4.1k

Viktor was a loner. Singed was the first to insinuate the label on a poor child and since then Viktor had accepted that fact.

I’ll never be noticed or remembered. I’ll always be a loner.

Had he been noticed by one of the founding fathers of Piltover? Yes. Was he still looked past in every situation? Yes. Despite being on the taller side he never felt like anyone’s focus, sometimes he felt that way about Heimerdinger— the very man who gave him the wonderful opportunity to be his assistant.

Then Jayce came into his life. This young (one year younger than him) naive, boy who was toying with something much bigger than him had been on the verge of banishment had it not been for his mother to get involved and lessen his sentence to expulsion had been the one to completely turn his entire life around.

He had never been included in anything his whole life. Hearing the words “our Hextech dream” was something completely otherworldly to Viktor. It’s like Jayce had reached into his chest and grabbed ahold of his heart and took it for his very own to keep, and Viktor was happy to do so even in his state of shock.

Their relationship then formed at a rapid pace, they were allowed a lab together and worked side by side and for once Viktor actually felt like he belonged. Being a Zaunite in Piltover was, well, unheard of for the most part, let alone the fact that he was disabled.

And that’s where we are. Viktor has come to a conclusion the more he looks around Piltover and at the very many citizens who happened to be disabled in one way or another. You’d think Viktor and these people were one in the same but you forget one thing—

Viktor is still a Zaunite. Which means he doesn’t get as well of a treatment for his ailments like the rest of the Pilties (he heard the term once when someone from the undercity mistook him for one).

You see, Viktor’s leg had been bothering him, more so than usual and at first it started with his cane. No longer could he take a few steps without it or get up without having to use it as leverage. The thing was practically glued to his hand and it wasn’t working well anymore. Old and rusty the thing was and Viktor had half a mind to make his own because Gods knows no one would make one for him.

Then one day, Jayce came strutting in, decked out in his usual fancy get up. A double breasted button up with his house colors accented on the shoulders and waist. He has a few things in his hand, measuring tape, a metal rod, and a permanent marker. Viktor turns his full body towards Jayce.

“What’s this?”

Jayce smiles and Viktor’s heart flutters momentarily. “Can you stand up for a moment?” They look at each other for a moment, Jayce with a big fat smile plastered across his face and Viktor who stares back at him with a perplexed brow.

“Okay…” He draws out the word and grabs his old cane beside him so he can lift himself off the chair. He uses all his strength, leaning the entirety of his body weight on the cane and Jayce is suddenly rushing in front of him and setting down all his supplies on the table.

“I’m such an ass, here—“ His huge hand wraps around Viktor’s entire arm. For some this would be comforting— big strong man helping you, lifting you and taking care of everything. “Let me help.” But for Viktor this was torture. Since when did he ever make it seem like he couldn’t do a simple thing like get up from a chair? How dare Jayce even think of such a thing. They both know what Viktor is capable of, they both are aware of his resilience and independence. What an insult to his character. He smacks Jayce’s eager hand away and stands up on his two legs with shaky effort.

“I’m not some helpless cripple, Jayce.” He spits with venom and it’s not directed towards someone he would call a best friend but no matter— Viktor directed his own frustration with himself on Jayce. His hand grips the handle of his cane tightly and he grits his teeth, his jaw protrudes with irritation and shame. He looks away from the man in front of him because he knows if he were to face him he’d be met with the saddest pair of puppy eyes he’d ever seen. He shuts his eyes in an attempt to rid of the image but a hand on his shoulder deters him.

God dammit.

An antagonizing gaze, a scolding, Viktor can see it now. Jayce giving up on him because he was too difficult, too weak, too incapable of doing anything himself. The staccato tapping on his food filled the room's deafening silence. The air felt heavy and Viktor’s cheeks slowly warmed up with shame. He finally begins to lift his head to look up at his partner before him.

Jayce looks at him with waxy eyes, there’s a sadness in them and an understanding. But what could he understand about Viktor’s terror, what claws at his spine and the chronic aching of his leg. The feeling of his body decaying, cracking and breaking slowly like a growing tumor of torment.

Viktor tears his eyes away and bites his tongue.

“I’m up now. What are we doing?”

“Right.” Jayce’s voice is tight but there’s an underline of softness. He pauses, afraid to move but slowly goes for the measuring tape he set on their desk and the other can see him out of his peripheral come closer and take a deep breath. “I..uh, can I get some measurements from you?”

Huh?

Viktor’s head snaps to stare up at Jayce. “What? For what?”

Jayce just takes a step closer. “I’ll show you when it’s ready. Please?”

There’s a twist in his stomach and it makes his insides feel like they’re being sucked into a black hole and that makes him dizzy. What exactly was Jayce planning here? He goes to eye the other supplies to piece his thoughts together to come up with what he could possibly be doing but before he could Jayce was already blocking his view.

“It seriously won’t take more than a minute.”

His leg is starting to hurt now and he just wants to sit down and get back to work. He reluctantly slacks his shoulders and motions for Jayce to do what he came in here to. Jayce seems to practically hop with excitement and the clinking sound of the tape measure echos in the room.

Skin on skin wasn’t something Viktor was very familiar with and he didn’t make it much of a habit to be touchy with anyone. Jayce had proved to be quite the opposite and it seemed like all he could do was touch. A hand on the back, the shoulder, hell, he even laid his own hand over Viktor’s once during a frustrating day of experimenting what else the hex crystals were capable of doing. Viktor did not like physical touch.

Yet with Jayce it was a losing battle and he could never admit that at times he actually enjoyed the warmth of his hand and the comfort of someone at least being there with him.

This was not one of those times, however. Viktor—still ashamed with himself for snapping at Jayce— couldn’t handle the proximity of their bodies. Jayce is much too close and his knuckles brush over his ribs as he closely measures his friend's height, then the length of the floor to his shoulder, then from the floor to his armpit. He mumbles to himself and scribbles down the numbers he collected.

Just as quickly as Jayce invaded Viktor’s personal space, he was moving away from him and curtly saying thank you before making his way out of the lab with a haste Viktor had never seen.

He really fucked up.

It had been a couple of days. Viktor had been so consumed by his contrite thoughts that he completely disappeared from the lab. Taking to staying in his room and only leaving at late hours into the night when he knew no one would be around in the halls or streets to notice him. He was good at slipping away, at being alone. It was for the best, really. He’s out of the way, there’s no chance of him getting frustrated towards himself and directing it towards anyone who didn’t deserve to get the sharp end of his abhorrent views of himself.

He missed the lab, though. He missed Jayce if he was being honest with himself but that was a lot harder to face and so he would simply forget the thought even popped up and put it on the back burner of his mind. But that burner grew hotter and slowly began to simmer before turning into a boil and bubbled over him all at once how much he truly had fucked up.

“I owe him an apology at least.” He decides tomorrow morning he’ll go back and properly say his sorry’s.

Just as he was getting ready to settle into bed, there was a knock on his apartment door. He looks at the clock.

11:45PM

There was only one person who knows where he lives and knows he’d still be up. Viktor gathers up his courage with each step towards the front door.

Of course it’s Jayce behind the door, he didn’t even have to question it nor look through the peephole. He slowly opens the door and peeks around the corner of it.

“Jayce?” He says like he’s shocked. Jayce is standing there, looking handsome as ever but he didn’t seem like his usual self. His hair was a bit messy and his five o,clock shadow had grown into a scruff. His eyes were droopy and held evidence of a long sleepless night— or several nights, really. His face seems to lighten when Viktor answers the door, almost like he wasn’t expecting him to even give him the time of day.

“What are you doing here so late?”

“I needed to see you,” He says it frantically and Viktor flinches at the intensity of his tone. It doesn’t go i noticed and Jayce takes a step back in a silent apology. “I wanted to give you something…I’ve been working on it for a bit now.”

He doesn’t know what it is. He doesn’t have the faintest clue, but with him a little further away he feels safe enough to open the door wider and get a good look at the man in front of his doorstep.

Plain white T-shirt, a pair of pajama pants with…is that his family crest on the sides? The get up was in high contrast compared to what he had on his feet— his fancy, brown leather work shoes. Viktor stifles a laugh expertly and glances back up to Jayce who he now notices is holding something behind his back.

He sighs and admits defeat, perhaps moving his apology to tonight would be better. He couldn’t even begin to think of going to sleep with the fictional scenario he’d play and replay over and over again until the sun finally came back up. He had to own up to his own stupidity and immaturity. Viktor widens the door open and steps to the side to let Jayce in. They smirk awkwardly at each other and the younger walks in just as awkwardly. He side steps, his back facing away from Viktor to deter him from seeing the it behind him.

He rolls his eyes but finds himself smiling and feeling the warmth of his beating heart increase. It makes him feel sick and he takes a wobbly step forward, leaning his hand against the wall. He’d forgotten his cane in his bedroom. Jayce stands there unsure to reach out and ask him for help and that terrible knot in his throat grows at the base of his neck and creeps up until it’s in the underside of his jaw.

“Before you show me what you’ve made. I…needed to tell you something.” His hand on the wall turns into a fist and he presses it hard as if to ground himself. He fights the urge to look away from Jayce because good lord he looks scared and Viktor knows he thinks he’s done something wrong.

“It’s nothing you’ve done.” He starts off when Jayce doesn’t respond. His shoulders fall just an inch and he sees the immediate relief wash over his friend before he continues. Viktor can’t fight it, he looks down at his feet. “I wasn’t myself a few days ago. I…I wasn’t feeling well and it brought up some unwanted thoughts and I couldn’t control myself. I snapped at you.”

Silence. He still can’t look at Jayce because that knot in his throat has turned into glass and it shreds down his throat with each difficult swallow and he knows the tears come after that. “You were just trying to help me and I did need help— I wanted the help but I was too embarrassed to take it from you and I directed my own frustration onto you. I’m sorry for that.”

Once more, silence. The air is thick and Viktor wonders if Jayce can feel it. Can feel the struggle to breathe and that terrible churning in his stomach just as he’s feeling now. He’s too scared to look up and to be met with a ridiculing glare and an unforgiving tone. But he hears the wood floor squeak under Jayce’s weight, and he hears it again, and once more.

His head is hung low, his fist is tight and he can feel the nails almost break the skin of his palms. Viktor’s eyes squeeze shut and he braces himself for Jayce to walk right past him and slam the door behind him.

“Hey,” His voice is sweet and warm and it’s much closer, so close that it startles Viktor and draws a gasp from him. His eyes are glassy, still fighting back a few tears but he opens them to look up to see Jayce just inches away from him. A smile grows across his lips, his eyes like a warm drop of honey bear into Viktor’s and there’s a soft, apologetic look across his features.

“You don’t have to apologize. It was out of turn for me to assume you needed help—“

“No!” Viktor exclaims, he opens a palm out as he feverishly speaks, “It’s me who’s wrong! I spoke out of turn and let my anger out on you when you were just trying to help. I didn’t mean to.”

“I know you’re capable of doing things yourself, V.” The nickname makes his stomach flip, Jayce doesn’t use it often and it catches him by surprise every time. “I just saw the pain in your face and I wanted to help.”

“I know! And that’s why I’m apologizing, because I smacked you away and..and I was cruel.” He drops his hand and lets it smack against the side of his thigh. Viktor releases a drawn out sigh and lets his shoulders slump. Jayce looks down at him solemnly.

“It wasn’t cruel. But I accept your apology— even though I don’t think you did anything wrong.”

“Well, I hurt you, didn’t I?”

Jayce chuckles. “Maybe a little bit, but I’m fine.”

They stand silently again, Viktor finally letting his hand rest spread out on the wall. His leg was beginning to hurt now and sitting all his weight on one hip was beginning to pinch a nerve. He looks back to Jayce who’s still standing there with his hands behind his back.

“Have a seat and show me what you made already.”

Jayce’s expression changes into one of worry and Viktor swears he can see a bead of sweat on his forehead.

“R-right! Uh, let’s have a seat.” He lets Viktor lead the way. He had never been in Viktor’s apartment very much, he mostly strictly stood at the threshold and spoke to his partner there before leaving. Never had he taken a step inside and taken in the homely atmosphere Viktor had curated. It was so very Viktor, with the likes of books and endless shelves of academic publications printed out and bound in thick leather. Or the many notes strewn about with at least one pen or pencil resting on any surface. He noticed a small toy boat on display in his living room and he has the urge to ask him about it, or the drawing of what seemed to be a mechanical golem resting on his coffee table in front of his worn loveseat.

Before he can even ask, Viktor is reaching down and crumpling it and tosses it into a bin. They sit side by side on the small couch and Jayce feels his cheeks blush when Viktor indicates for him to show off already.

“Okay, uh, could you…look away for a moment?”

Viktor raises an eyebrow and purses his lips. “I’m sorry?”

“I want it to be a surprise…just indulge me…please?” Jayce attempts to bat his eyelashes and Viktor laughs at the clumsy way he can’t seem to find the momentum to bat them quickly. He obliges and places his hands over his eyes, he shuts his lids for good measure.

“No peeking, got it?” Jayce almost giggles.

“I would do no such thing.” He would.

Jayce brings the gift out from behind him, he’s shocked that he was able to hide it this long, he was sure Viktor would figure it out by now but he’s pleased to know his lab partner is oblivious to the fact that he had spent a week perfecting what he hoped Viktor would appreciate.

There’s cool metal on the palms Jayce told Viktor to face upward in his lap and it shocks him before he’s slowly wrapping his fingers around the material. He slowly opens his eyes, aware too much of Jayce’s intense gaze, there’s concern and hope and fear in his eyes and Viktor finally looks down at what’s been placed in his lap.

His eyes run across cool, steel metal with accents of red, white trimming of metal brings the piece together and his hand finds the first handle of what is a brand new cane sitting across his legs.

The handle is red and it looks to be the perfect length and width to fit into his hand. There are indents shaped just for his fingers and it’s made with cushioned leather. Viktor stares in awe of the expert work of the shape. His eyes follow up the cane to the top handle, it's curved and made with the same leather. On the tip of it is a circle framed with metal and what looks to be Jayce’s family crest. His eyes glide back down it, finding the same sigil on the side of the cane.

He’s speechless. Utterly incapable of saying a single word, let alone form a sentence. Jayce had taken the time and effort to actually make this for him. He thought his chronic pain hadn’t been so obvious— at least it wasn’t to literally everyone else who knew him or were acquainted with him. He never had been perceived so closely, so intimately and it aches in his heart the realization that Jayce had clearly seen Viktor this whole time.

He was no longer alone and Jayce had seen the inner workings of his pain. Perhaps he shouldn’t be surprised, they were together every single day and they were coming up on five years of working together.

Viktor’s ribs were a broken cage and released his emotions freely. The dam that held back his tears broke and out came a flood. His vision immediately becomes blurry and his hands tremble with the cane rattling gently in them.

“I…What…Why did you do this?” His voice is shaky and he bites his tongue to stop himself from speaking. He sounds so pathetic and small. “This is for me?”

Jayce gently reaches his hand over and places an index finger on the top handle.

“This is for support under your armpit and this—“ He points to the next handle. “Is for your hand to grasp onto. I saw the way you had been leaning lately and I could see the pain it was causing for you…I wanted to try and make something to help with that…”

He’s too sweet. Much too sweet to be in the presence of Viktor— someone who couldn’t fathom why he deserved such a thoughtful and well crafted piece of metalwork. He spent his free time on this, he worked on this by hand, by himself, for a week. He thinks back to the strange measurements Jayce had asked of him. How he tried to be slick and looking back he was because Viktor was too busy with his maintenance on the Hexgates to really consider why the hell Jayce needed to know how long and wide Viktor’s hand was or how he liked to hold his cane and how heavily he leaned onto it for support.

Viktor still couldn’t find the words. He barely even notices he’s crying until he sees a tear land on the metal and he’s immediately turning away from Jayce and swiping the rivers running down his face. He knows he looks pathetic like this and he never once wanted anyone to see him cry, let alone Jayce of all people.

“Thank you…truly,” He says with a shaky breath, his voice cracking around the lump in his esophagus. He covers his mouth, still turned away from Jayce.

“You didn’t have to…”

Warmth spreads across Viktor’s hand, he feels Jayce’s calloused fingers against his skin and it doesn’t help the flow of falling tears. His eyes screw shut but it’s not enough to hold them back and he barely registers another hand reaching out and Jayce’s thumb swiping across his cheek gently.

“Viktor,” He speaks gently, saying his name with relief and a sweetness that made Viktor’s teeth ache. Hearing his name come out so gently is too overwhelming and he shakes his head. “Hey, What’s wrong? Did I do something?”

Yes. Yes! You saw me and for the first time I’m feeling like I’m someone important!

His mouth parts to speak and it’s dry, his tongue sticks to the roof of his mouth as he attempts to form a sentence.

“No…no…you did a wonderful thing, I'm just…I’m embarrassed.” Jayce wipes away another tear that escaped and ran down to his lip. He captures it and rubs it away on the edge of his lips and they both a shock in the touch of his fingertips. They say nothing about it.

“Why?” Jayce asks simply.

“Crying…”

“You’ve seen me cry. How is this any different?”

Viktor’s glassy eyes look up into Jayce’s and this time he’s able to hold his gaze.

“I’m not meant to be comforted.” He says it so plainly like it’s a fact and Jayce feels his heart throb in pain. How his partner could ever think such a thing about himself he has no idea but he’ll do anything to change his mind.

“You are,” He lets his hand cup Viktor’s cheek and he watches the way his lashes flutter closed and he leans into the touch. “Don’t ever say that. You deserve…everything, Viktor.”

They sit like that for a while, Viktor unsure of what to say next and instead basks in the comfort of Jayce’s touch and Jayce who watches the tears slowly dry and leave streaks on his cheeks. It isn’t until he pulls his hand away does Viktor look back down at the cane in his lap. He turns it in his hands gently and runs his finger over the family sigil.

“The Talis hammer…a bit egotistical, don’t you think?” He huffs a laugh and Jayce is equally amused, his cheeks grow red and he slides his hand across the side of his neck as he lets out a breathy laugh.

“Yeah, well, habit I guess…” He leans in a little close. “You really do like it, though?”

Viktor, now smiling down at the cane, nods. “Yeah, I do. Looking at it might make me cry again.”

“Well, let me take care of that then.” Jayce’s thumb runs across one of Viktor’s cheeks affectionately and for a second they forget they’re just friends and revel in the comfort of one another.

#anon #requests #pepper writes #jayvik #jayce talis #arcane #viktor arcane #arcane fanfic #jayce x viktor #jayvik fanfic #jayce league of legends #viktor league of legends #viktor fanfic #jayce talis fanfic

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its-all-papaya · 7 months ago

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hiiii friends followers etc <3

i’ve been promising a lot of stuff lately, but unfortunately i think i’ve come to terms with the fact that i am going to have to take baby steps back from fandom for the immediate future bc i am… not super well.

i recently said im not even sure what burnout feels like because i think ive been in a moderate state of it since i was about 14 years old, but i can tell you now: i know what it feels like. it’s crying in the morning before you get out of bed bc you’re not sure you have another day left in you. it’s 400mg of caffeine every day not because you need it to stay awake, but because you can’t keep your mood above water without it. it’s a million straight work days and a million chores on the to-do list and a million texts to your mom saying “im tired” and “i just want a second to catch my breath.”

i’m not a danger to myself or anything, i’m actually just sort of numb, but i DO think that my activity here has been inadvertently putting more pressure on me to perform and meet the expectations of other people in yet another realm of my life. that’s not on you guys!! that’s on me!! a lot of the time i ask for it and i over-promise and then beat myself up when i can’t deliver. and honestly, how could i expect myself to? i’ve been working at least four hours every day for TWO STRAIGHT MONTHS. i fall asleep with the lights on and wake up already behind on everything and the minute i get home i open my laptop anyway to type in a word doc mostly because i want to, but also because i told you all i would. and i’m already letting you down.

dad lando will get finished. it’s 70k already and i’m going to keep working on it, just slowly. maybe there’ll be a christmas fic, maybe it’ll be out before anything else, maybe dad lando will come in december but maybe it’ll be more like january.

you can keep talking to me, i just respectfully kindly ask that you don’t ask when things are getting published or how writing is going, because i WILL give you timelines it’s not healthy for me to deliver on and then stress myself out trying to keep them.

thank you thank you thank you to everybody who has engaged with my work in any way, everyone who has encouraged me, and everybody who’s ever added tags to a reblog, or dropped anon love in my inbox. i know i’ll probably lose some of you when you get tired of waiting, and that’s alright i guess. i’ve gotta like… stay alive. you know?

gonna try to be on here less so plz send me writing i’ve missed and hit me up for my discord if you wanna chat. love you all, love landoscar, love writing, just gotta manage what can be managed for the time being 🧡

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mangoisms · 2 years ago

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Im just soso obsessed with figuring out tim as a character rn i cant stop thinking abt it (ive always been a jason todd girlie but i read ur fic and that angsty twink latched onto me and refuses to let go)

I think u have a pretty good hold of him, especially bc in present comics writers are so intent on elevating tim in spite of other characters (barbara and her hacking skills for example, or any comparison made btw him and any robin, really) that most portrayals of him are so boring it makes me cry, while you on the other hand took the approach to write about his flaws (which are MANY) while still making him charming and handsome (he is so... !!!!)

To me flaws are also tied to not only the good traits of characters but also their core beliefs and ideals so what can you say abt tim?

I know he can be stupidly arrogant and patronizing at times, that he's always idolized the position and legacy of robin and constantly fights his insecurities with this role and his abilities for the job, that he can also be incredibly selfish or outright mean when it comes to being mindful of other people's feelings for the sake of logic (re when he didnt tell tam abt his dad not being actually dead), but at the same time i cant figure out exactly what he wants to do with his role as robin (or red robin) or why he would want to keep going when his main goals first were just making sure bruce wouldnt go down a dark path, im pretty sure he mentioned not being a vigilante forever but his actual goals remain unclear to me

(Im in the midst of reading his solo robin run but ive read red robin so give me a little room for this, you are definitely free to talk abt more of his comics bc i havent read everything yet and everything im saying should be taken with a grain of salt, video essays and the issues ive read can only get me so far)

He could have gained an inherent desire to help people after all his time as robin and the so fucked up shit that happened to him, maybe as a ways to channel his grief (much like dick and jason and bruce, im thinking abt identity crisis here) after he isnt "needed" as robin anymore, but at the same time that would be so tragic because he was supposed to be different to them, he was supposed to remark the importance of robin's role in helping be "batman's light" and not becoming like batman himself, its just so interesting and im still trying to really understand the extent of his character so id just. Love to get ur thoughts and musings on what fuels tim as a character and how you see him

(I dont have this problem with jason bc his moral conflict is very crystal clear to me and also so freaking juicy, his actions are logical and so understable, granted he also hasnt had as much screentime as tim and i can see when writers just Dont Get Him, misunderstanding the original intent of his character coming back etc etc etc, tim has grown and evolved throughout his tim as robin so this might factor in too)

Anyways sorry for the long post i hope this is alright !!! Loved ur fic to bits and ur writing is a blessing mwah

okay HI i am not exaggerating when i say that i have been thinking about this ask since you sent it HAHA tim is just a parasite in my brain he won't let go...

that's the funny thing about portrayals of him today... i feel like people want to elevate him as a potential batman or a character closest to bruce in terms of intelligence and detective skills, which isn't true at all, i think (because, exactly, you have babs Right There), and of course, narratively, this is all a good thing (this post covers it well, i think). it's in the same vein of people making tim out as the most dangerous person in the batfam, should he ever chose to go down the path, which i can partially blame red robin (2009) for with this panel....

(and i don't think that's true either. he has the potential to be dangerous just like any of the others but i think the ones to really be scared of are babs, dick, and cass but ANYWAY)

in general, red robin 2009 was a bumpy time for tim with bruce's death and his spiraling, but it seemed to really inform what they were going to do with his character. no more time for the civilian life, committing himself much more thoroughly to The Mission like bruce. which is, if you ask me, a negative progression of his character, which isn't bad, exactly, in terms of storytelling, but it feels like all we get are the 'good parts' now -- the intelligence, the status, the resources, and then we don't get to grapple with the consequences.

there were some in red robin 2009 but it was more tim accepting them and making no move to change his actions, which is fine, but now... idk. but i also don't touch modern comics with a ten foot pole so this could just be. Wrong. but that seems like what's going on. so i feel like that's where people get the idea of him being... idk not the Perfect Robin exactly but. you know?

no no yeah i totally agree!

re (because i want to break this down i'm telling you i have Been Thinking About This): at the same time i cant figure out exactly what he wants to do with his role as robin (or red robin) or why he would want to keep going when his main goals first were just making sure bruce wouldnt go down a dark path, im pretty sure he mentioned not being a vigilante forever but his actual goals remain unclear to me

exactly this. he did say that and i've reblogged this at some point i think, showing a panel from robin 1993 where he mentioned he wouldn't be a vigilante forever, then paralleled with that panel i put in earlier from red robin 2009. (there's this post, which touches on another thing about tim trying to set himself apart as having friends and thus not being bruce LOL which is another topic entirely)

i think that was what red robin 2009 was - a negative progression of his character, one that, again, we never really grapple with, especially as dc shoves robin back onto him now.

his motivations are an interesting thing to me, because he did start out coincidentally, saying batman needed a robin but he didn't assume he'd be that robin, it just kind of happened because he was there (well much more went into it but you know?).

but aside from that, i've never gotten the impression tim really does it for people. i mean batman in general has been about the detective work but i think towards the 80s/90s/00s there was a shift to focusing on the people but tim has never really struck me as a hero of the people. he's more about fighting crime than he is about helping people. i think it is partially informed by the genre - re detective comics, etc - but still. he's not like, say, peter parker/spider-man, who is a hero of the people, of the working class. the people are inherent to him as spider-man. tim does it out of duty and responsibility i think, being the light to batman's dark, of course, but he's also very much a teenage boy about being robin - the cool factor, pointedly mentioning he wants to let off steam by knocking around 'criminals' that kind of thing

which doesn't mean he's unfit for it but he operates in an odd grey area as far as his motivation goes, which i think is where we get red robin? he was defined by being robin and he did his job, then he got the boot. so it is very much an identity crisis but we're seeing that negative change as he changes for the worse, for something darker. i mean, yes, red robin 2009 was again bumpy because he was at a very low point in his life but in general, that run was dark for him.

editorial wise, we'd never get to see what they made of it because they did the reboot and started new-52 a few years after. but whether he'd continue being red robin/going down this path, or if he'd shed the identity and go for something lighter... it's hard to say.

i kind of like the thought that he'd change his identity and try to take a lighter approach, try to pull himself from bruce's influence, though with how it's all set it up, it seems fated that he'd end up there. there was red robin 2009, but then there was his sixteenth birthday incident (which sounds bad here and i'd read this before reading it myself but god when i read it it pissed me off so bad... really what turned me off bruce as a 'good' father figure, i can't lie). he ultimately ends up going back and becoming robin and this is the turning point for him where he agrees to enter this mindset that bruce wants him to be in. (this post talks mainly about timsteph but it is also a point to the end about the shift in his character and how that affected his relationships as well)

i mean i know red robin 2009 is marked by the grief of bruce's 'death' and a bunch of other Very Bad Shit but even when we got past that and he had his little 'Let me let in the people who love me because i am Not batman' he then proceeded to go a little surveillance crazy and make a hit list (something like that, it's been a while..) but. yeah.

ultimately, at the core of his character, i think he is good and compassionate and kind, so, even aside from all that (like the birthday incident), i think he would've made his way there eventually. it could maybe be why we see him returning to robin, if we wanted to try and pretend dc making him be robin is a completely normal and logical decision that they actually thought through. like a way to return to the bases and feel it out from there. though i still think they could've just. idk. given him a BREAK from vigilantism to figure it out. i'm a big proponent of civilians and their place amongst vigilantes and superheroes and i feel like tim's due a break, which is why i put that stuff in my fics. i do want to see him step back and try to figure out his life, because at one point, though robin 1993 was arguably defined by the balance between robin and tim drake and had plenty of civilian friends to keep things interesting, we don't see much as far as what he wants to do. which i suppose could be part of his relatability factor that tim drake, the character, was conceived with

but idk at this point they have to give us something 😭 anyway. this got VERY long i am very sorry.. i don't mind long asks either but i might've overshot my response... alas. i also hope i more or less answered your question??? if not feel free to slide back in here and talk to me! i rambled a bit here and it's like. 3am rn i'm scheduling this to post because i wanted to get it all written Now and. yeah.

thank you SO much very happy to hear you're enjoying everything <333 hope you continue to enjoy :**

#also thank YOU for all your thoughts?? like i said i was Thinkign About This #and i had posts in mind for it and yeah. yeah. i was thinking about it all week HAHA #but also like twin brain moment because you get him <3 he is charming and handsome but he also has SOOOO many flaws and is actually rlly #annoying and puts his foot in his mouth TOO MUCH #so. YEAH. sorry this is long don't feel obligated to respond to All Of This <3 but if you have any q's feel free to ask <3 #inbox #long post

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slowd1ving · 3 months ago

Note

hihi !! (*´꒳`*) i am alright lols but ty for the concern !! i fear the nihility ate me /j HSJDJSKS long ass yap ahead soz erg …

i also did end up reading the roomies au prequel since i sent in my last ask and … omfg was it casual ? was it casual when we shared the practice room ?? was is casual when you took me out for snacks in the middle of the night and shared a drink ??? was it casual when you said you wanted to kiss me in the closet ????? WAS IT CASUAL DAN HENG WAS IT TRULY — im normal , im so normal . did you know im very normal . ( ◠‿◠ ) <- about to explode

my main team is what i like to call my double date team , aka yaoi² and its aventurine , ratio , moze , and jiaoqiu ! fun fact is that it was totally by accident that i found out that they actually work well together , i was just gathering my gays up (°▽°)

aventurine needs his own paragraph because im actually obsessed with him . this man has me in a chokehold , he was the one who brought me back into actively playing hsr , i have a custom homescreen of him (https://media.discordapp.net/attachments/740750126380744835/1343006060805623928/7E46CE0D-D6C9-4520-A89A-483BF326D5DA.jpg?ex=67bbb35c&is=67ba61dc&hm=818090586a9ae514bd8441c6d717ed9a470a50a1dbf62b3935df703a53fa407a&) sorry about the random discord media link i want to flex lol SGJSKDN hes also the “mascot” (??) of several of my social media accounts … im normal about him . i finished his stories recently and i wanted to microwave myself hes SO ??? OWWWIEEEE …. i have so many aventurine edits .

some of our other favs overlap tho , i too love ratio boots and sunday ( hes my son . him and robin , my adoptive children , im gonna shoot gopher wood ᕦ(ò_óˇ)ᕤ ) , plus my #1 OG , dan heng . i have a thing for characters with mildly questionable moral backgrounds , could you tell ? ( ・∇・) and ough … mydei … i want him , carnally . ASIDE FROM THAT , ive tormented several of my friends due to how insane i am . in the penacony quest i immediately clocked aventurine and dr ratios footprints and one of my friends screamed at me because I DONT THINK IM SUPPOSED TO DO THAT AHAHA (ﾟ∀ﾟ)

anyways yap over to stop me from going off topic . i hope youve been well for these past months , and i hope you will be well for all the future ones !! （╹◡╹）♡

hell yeah I love long yap

It was never casual I fear; Dan Heng was going through it 100%... speaking of which writing that tension was extremely satisfying I'm glad it was appreciated.

Oh if/when I get jiaoqiu I'm definitely trying out this team combo (I build teams solely for their aesthetics rather than cohesion...), nice name too lmao. And completely understandable the Aventurine brainrot is real and too, has created a very interesting undercurrent when I'm SUPPOSED to be writing about other characters.

Also understandable whenever I see him in any context it makes me want to bawl man </3 he's so gutwrenching sparkly beautiful tragic comedic ironic. I think it was an aventurine edit that got me into hsr actually??? I'm gonna need to do some digging and find it...

I could absolutely tell your fixation on dubiously moral characters (but do not worry for alas I fixate on morally dubious MCs when I write).

Mydei.... the man you are (me too fr).

ALSO I saw your other message and it breaks my heart to write that I am not in fact on American servers 😔but simultaneously it's weirdly gratifying to know my works have gone international how satisfying. I hope you're doing alright though; the political landscape over there is looking ROUGH

condolences aside, I'm swamped with assignments and the exam year but other than that I'm doing splendidly and hope you are too :) the ratio fic is almost DONE and it's gonna have to be written between all these papers

#ask slowd1ving #hashtag most active anon #ANOONNNNN #whenever I get an anon message I always feel like a true internet patriot #like this is a culmination of all the internet lessons I received as a kid #very funny

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switch-writer · 3 years ago

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Writer’s Block (Chongyun + Xingqiu)

A/N: AYYY- @anzynai , I had you for Squealing Santa! I really hope you enjoy this, and do have a Merry Christmas! Also a big thanks to Mia who organized this as well! Major thank you! So, tbh, I did have a lot of fun writing this! I always liked them but after writing for them, I really do enjoy them! However, this was almost late because I got really busy as of recently and was lacking on being productive on writing and such. But I got it done and I’m posting it when I wanted to! I originally wanted this done on the 15th of November and to post it on December 1st. While I did make my personal deadline on posting it, I can’t say I did with actually when I got done with the fic xD

EITHER WAY, I hope you enjoy this! Have a Merry Christmas! <3

Warnings: Uhhh, I don’t even believe I swore in this fic, so, pure fluff, and tickles! That’s all :D

Words: 1556 (last I checked, no editing included-)

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Well, this began as a normal day, one like any other. The exorcist came around to the second son of the Feiyun Commerce Guild, and the two went off somewhere to hang out. It was something like clockwork. This particular day, they chose to venture off into a more rural area, near a slightly woody area in Liyue Harbor. It wasn’t particularly popular, and it was quiet. Very nice little area if you’re aware of it.

Chongyun was currently relaxing himself as he focused on the views around him while the bookworm of the two was writing again, which Chongyun didn’t question too much considering he was aware of Xingqiu’s interest and occasional hobby of writing despite book publishers in Liyue Harbor not caring much for Xingqiu’s writing.

However, since Xingqiu has found out of Inazuma’s spark of intrigue in his stories, he may be picking up his writer’s pen once more and beginning another storyline, perhaps a continuation.

But that’s the current issue he was having with this. He…needless to say, was struggling with where exactly to go with it while keeping everything consistent. The book lover has made concepts of ideas along with possibilities but he lacked a sense of what direction to pursue.

“Xingqiu, are you troubled currently? You seem a tad…what’s the word, confused? Frustrated? Something of the sort.” The icy blue styled man finally spoke up about it, causing the darker haired man of the two to let out a small laugh.

“Eheh. Well, I admit…I am struggling a little more than I wish to admit. It’s just…I’m having trouble with picking up the story and where exactly to go with it. I would like to go in a unexpecting direction or keep the reader on their toes but it… it isn’t quite clicking for ideas thus far.”

Xingqiu sighs with a slight smile. “My point is that I’m having a writer’s block like most amazing writer’s get. Nothing super exciting or scary.”

Chongyun gave a subtle nod to his friend, beginning to think to himself about how to help Xingqiu. Though, he wasn’t much of a writer, never found interest in it, yet alone had the time for it. But the exorcist didn’t want— no no. He couldn’t just sit there after Xingqiu always helped him with trying to find demons of sorts.

“Hm… well, where’d you leave off…?” Chongyun decided to speak out once more, attempting to listen to this and hope ideas from his outside view would assist him. “Ah, well, it all starts with our main character…”

Xingqiu began to ramble off with the details, the popsicle loving nearby listening in, a little conflicted on what to do as he listened. Of the details he heard, it sounded as if the bookworm was extremely passionate but in all honesty, Chongyun began to space out, mainly realizing he would have to listen to a whole story and that’s if he could even give an idea.

Hmm…what would Xingqiu do in this situation… Whenever he was upset, the second son of a certain guild would not only assist in a solution, but even when he couldn’t, he’d at least cheer him up or support him in such ways. So, maybe…returning the favor would be the best line of action. Luckily, thanks to his occasional negative reactions at being quite unsuccessful at finding and cleansing a demon of its ability, he has a very present and clear idea.

“Xingqiu…?” “Hmm? Too many details?” “Nono...well…” Gonna quickly move past that. “I may have an idea.” “Oh? So, not enough detail for you?” Xingqiu asked in a playful and slightly teasing manner.

“Eheheh. Believe me, there was quite enough.” Chongyun stated, deciding to let him down easy, though he was confident he took the hint. “However, this idea, it’s a little bit different than you’d think, but I believe it might help you.” “Then do share.” The one in darker clothing decides to allow this, giving it a chance, having trust in the cryo vision wielder’s judgement.

Chongyun, admittedly, was nervous about doing this. There wasn’t anything to be nervous about…except for if the tables are immediately flipped. “Alright. Will do.” He tried to seem a little more confident about this, sneaking his hand over to the bookworm. “Well, go on! I’m curious to see what ideas you may ha- hahahave! Chohohong!”

The exorcist was quick to taze his sides, trying to be quick now because he knows exactly what’s gonna happen. A major attempt to turn the tables. And he was correct.

Xingqiu attempted to grab his hand, managing to succeed, causing the cryo user to panic as his hand went straight up from his sides. “Gotchu!” Xingqiu announced, shooting his other hand to Chongyun’s side, right by where his ribs were and tazed him.

“Payback!” “W-Wahahait! Nohoho! Stohohop thahat!” Chongyun couldn’t help but break into giggles immediately, this is already going wrong. However, this is all he has to do, win this little uprising and then he’s fine. With his mental encouragement, Chongyun was officially now determined to win against him.

So, to fight against the Hydro user, he straight up tackled him onto the grass, making Xingqiu fall over as he straddled him. “Waitwaitwait! Chongyun!” “No no. No protesting! You must allow me to return the favor.” “No! Don’t you even— ehehahaha! Chohongyuhun!”

The second son attempted to protest, failing at this since Chongyun made up his mind by now. Truthfully, he was glad he chose this, he forgot how much he loved Xingqiu’s laugh. After all, he didn’t get to hear it often considering how easily the hydro user usually turns the tables.

“Sorry, but this is too much to pass up. I must cheer you up!” Chongyun stated, beginning to scribble his fingers over his friend’s ribs. “Pff- Buhuhut I’m fihihine! I’m nohohot upsehehet!” “Oh…well then it’s revenge I suppose. Sorry but…I’m not sorry.” Chongyun, the kind and nervous exorcist, being a savage? How unheard of!

Which, Xingqiu began to laugh a bit more genuinely at that thanks to how unusual it was. “Thahahat’s so cruehehel ohohof you! Hohohow dahahare you crohohoss the sehehecond sohohon of- W-WhahahahaHAIT!” Chongyun got a little tired of his rambling and frankly just wanted to hear his pure sweet laugh.

“Ah, your tummy has always been so sensitive, hehe. How sweet.” Chongyun teases his closest friend, his finger now tracing around his navel. After all, couldn’t help but test that spot.

“C-CHOHOHONGYUN! PLEHEHEASE! I’M SOHOHORRY-“ “Oh? For what?” “AHAH— TI-TIHIHICKLING YOU ALL THEHEHE TIME! PLEHEHEASE LET ME GOHOHOHO!”

“Well. I suppose that is a very good apology… hmmm, let me think…”

Chongyun pretended to think about this for a moment. Well, truthfully, it wasn't pretending. After a few moments, he began to consider if he should truly be so merciful with his friend. After all, his poor friend was laughing his heart out for the moment thanks to the extreme sensations surging through him.

Though, there’s one thing holding back Chongyun from hailing this attack was simply Xingqiu’s pure laugh. It was so sweet. Just somewhat loud, yet still pure and almost a bubbly type of laughter. It was giving serotonin to him, not just the sound of it but the fact he’s making Xingqiu happy. It made the male with high yang energy feel quite similar.

This being said, Chongyun, despite everything, halted his big attack. However, he finally successfully cheered him up and tickled him! That’s the important part. Mostly the first part of that.

“Ehehe… ah…Cruel move, but fair considering how often I do that.”

The hydro user admitted as the other pulled out a popsicle, taking it in order to be sure he’ll be alright. “Mhm, I agree.” “Hey! You’re now acting more like me, you’ve been practicing the art of trickery?”

Xingqiu nudged him with a soft smile, Chongyun offered a popsicle, flinching gently from the soft nudge to his side. “Ah, this a new way to distract me from getting you back?” Xingqiu questions curiously, his smile still being present as he took the popsicle.

“Ehehe…maybe?” Chongyun decided to be honest despite his slight nervousness confessing his plan. “Ah, well, I’ll spare you for the time being. Mainly because of the popsicle.” The hydro vision wielder winked as he spoke out to Chongyun, beginning to lick at the popsicle, not minding the slightly off taste. Actually, he found it’s taste, despite it being off, sweet.

“Ah…but you’re getting me back one day?” The icy blue eyed male asked nervously, raising an eyebrow as he attempted to enjoy his popsicle. Xingqiu glanced at him with a mischievous smirk growing on his face, the cold treat in his mouth.

“Maybe today, maybe tomorrow. You’ll find out.” “Ah…” Sooner or later, they both managed to finish the popsicles, sharing a nice moment of silence, Xingqiu seemingly taking new notes relating to his story he was working on and Chongyun taking in the views.

“Oh, and Chongyun?” “Yes?” “. . . Start running.” “O-oh. oH-“ The exorcist was quick to hop up, beginning to break into a sprint. The writer sighs with a small smile, placing his book for notes down, wiping himself off as he stood up.

“Well, this will certainly end in a lovely way, one way or another.” Xingqiu mumbled before keeping a smile, going to chase after Chongyun. These two are gonna be here for a long while for sure. But hey, they’ll both definitely be enjoying it.

#squealing santa #squealingsanta2021 #SS2021 #genshin impact #genshin impact tickling #tickle fic #ticklish!xingqiu #lee!xingqiu #ler!chongyun #and very slight #ticklish!chongyun #lee!chongyun #ler!xingqiu #alright. back to trying to write other fics ive been needing to write since like. September-

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illegal-spiegel · 4 years ago

Text

The Selection

Pairing: Prince!Shoto Todoroki x f!reader Genre: angst, fluff, royal au Warnings: bullying, mentions of blood, scratches, and bruising. I think that’s it?? Summary: Prince Shoto is coming upon the age to marry one lucky lady, and to choose said lady, a contest is held. A woman from each district is chosen by the prince himself to compete to become his bride and the future queen. You, a woman from district nine, a poor district, are chosen and sent to the castle to compete against nine other women. ✨Drama ensues ✨ Word Count: 10k words. THIS IS LITERALLY THE MOST IVE EVER DONE BEFORE RGVIOSGNIAN A/N: This piece is for @awilddreamerwrites‘s collab!! I had so much fun writing this because this is based off of the book series The Selection by Kiera Cass and I’ve been wanting to write smth like this for a LONG time. There is also Hunger Games themes going on in this fic. The song at the end is I Hear a Symphony by Cody Fry!! I hope you all enjoy!!

You can’t believe you won.

And no, this isn’t the good kind of winning. You don’t get a thousand dollars or a nice, shiny trophy. No. You can’t even fathom why out of all the girls in district nine why Prince Shoto would choose you.

He’s coming of age to marry so all women eighteen to twenty-four, who aren’t married yet, are required by law to submit an ‘application’ to become Prince Shoto’s wife. He will then go through all of the forms and choose one ‘lucky’ girl from each district, one through ten.

You can remember filling out the form like it was yesterday.

“I don’t know what to put,” you groan from the table, wracking through your brain for something you like to do in your free time. There are plenty of things, but none of them sound good enough. Then again, you don’t know why you’re trying so hard to impress Mr. Stick-Up-His-Butt.

“Put that you like to burp your ABCs,” your little brother jokes, making you roll your eyes at him.

“As if I would ever write such a thing. They would come here as soon as they saw that and chop my head off in front of everyone!” you screech, starting to nervously tap your pencil on the table.

“How about reading? That makes you sound smart,” your father offers, his hands covered in paint from where he stands by the window. You glance over at him, finding that he’s painting your mother playing at her piano. It’ll never cease to amaze you that your father can draw and paint your mother’s face from memory. God, they’re so in love it’s gross.

“Doesn’t that sound too snobbish though? ‘Hey, look at me. I’m so smart because I like to read.’ They don’t want smart women dad, they want pretty ones that will obey orders,” you snidely remark. Yeah, it’s no surprise to anyone that you hate all the members of district one. They’re just a bunch of queens, kings, dukes, duchesses, princes, princesses, and everyone else who doesn’t like sharing their wealth amongst the poorer districts. Like yours.

“Why do you care? I think that they will take one look at your ugly mug and throw yours in the trash,” your brother cackles. You huff out a breath and bring your eyes back to the paper. He’s right. You shouldn’t care. You don’t care.

“You’re right,” you announce as you begin writing down the answer your dad suggested. Maybe if you make yourself sound really smart, Prince Shoto will lose interest right away.

You go through the other basic questions, what was your favorite toy growing up, what talents do you have, how is your relationship with your family, etc. After a mind-numbing experience of filling out all the questions, you slide the papers into an envelope. “Alright, done!”

“Good, go put it in the mailbox before it gets dark,” your father says with a smile, watching you fill out your name and address on the envelope since the castle’s is already printed in the top left.

That was a month ago and now you’re here, staring down at your empty suitcase laid out in front of you on your bed. You can’t even begin to imagine what you would need to pack to go to a castle to try and win the heart of a prince. You leave your empty luggage where it is and pick up the acceptance letter that you had received. You hadn’t even bothered reading all of it earlier.

You read through all the rules, regulations, and requirements, trying not to break down as you sit there reading it. This just had to happen to you. Why couldn’t it be that one lovely girl down the road who has always dreamed of one day living in the castle? Or another girl a couple blocks away who dreams to be a chef in the castle’s kitchen?

One sentence has you pausing, your shoulders gaining weight to them and causing you to slump. Contestants must not wear pants of any kind. All women must wear appropriate skirts or dresses. Oh, hell no.

You set the papers down again and take a deep breath, standing from your bed to move to your window. You stare outside into the tall, green grass as you let your mind wander. What if you just ran away? Yeah, you could pack up your bag and on move-in day, you leave without a trace. That plan sounds nice for a second before you suddenly feel guilt.

Your family would be worried about you.

God, you need to stop acting like it’s the end of the world!

You clench your hands into fists and give a single nod before snatching the papers back up, breezing through the rest of the words now that you’ve made up your mind. You once again freeze though when you come across something towards the end. All participants will get a weekly check of one hundred dollars that they may either use themselves or send home to their families.

What?

Why wouldn’t they lead with that? This is good news though! Seeing as how you’re in district nine and a family of four, making it through the week can be quite hard. It helped that you were leaving and they would only have to worry about three mouths to feed, but now they can get some money too!

You pause for a third time and reread that sentence. Every week. Being there for a month alone would give your family five hundred dollars! That would be enough for all of you to live semi-comfortably while you search for a job to help your parents out.

You finish with the papers and then set them down, starting to pack your things away now. You don’t want to go or stay in the castle, but you’ll be damned if you didn’t give it your all to stay as long as possible to help your family.

Move-in day comes faster than you’d like. Suddenly, a car is waiting for you in front of your house and your mother has tears in her eyes. “Mom, don’t cry. I won’t even be gone that long. I’ll be home before you know it,” you reassure softly as you pull her into a hug. She sniffles and holds you tight, her eyes closing and causing those tears to cascade down her face.

“I know. I just...I love you, honey. I appreciate what you do for this family.” You pull back and smile at her, wiping her tears away before giving her cheek a kiss. You bid your father and brother farewell, playfully teasing your brother for crying before giving him the longest hug of all, and then leave with your suitcase in tow.

“Is that it?” a knight questions you once you reach him, his eyes focused on your singular suitcase.

“Um, yes?” you reply, but it comes out shaky and unsure. Why would you need more than one?

“Okay, get in,” he says in a bored tone as he takes your baggage from you and places it in the back while you crawl inside the expensive car. He closes the door behind you and then crawls into the front, turning the car on. You stare out the window at your family, smiling at them while you wave. They wave back and even blow you kisses, a smile stretching across your face as you catch them.

You won’t be gone long. You won’t be gone long.

First day at the castle you don’t even get to see the prince. You briefly meet the other girls but otherwise remain cooped up in your very fancy new room. Meals are brought to you and you have your own personal bathroom, so there’s no reason to leave.

Not that you really want to anyway.

At the end of the first day, your reading is interrupted by a loud knock. You just begin standing up from your seat by the window when the door swings open and a woman with deep bronze skin comes in. “Hi there,” she teases, closing the door behind her. You close your book and set it on the table, raising your brow at her as you stand up.

“Um, hi? What are you doing here?” you ask before realizing that probably sounded rude. She just chuckles at you though and starts walking towards you, removing a soft measuring tape up from around her shoulders which causes her dark, curly hair to drag up with it before dropping back down with a bounce.

“I’m here for your measurements, of course.”

“My what?” you ask, cautiously watching her as she gets closer.

“You know, for your dresses. We already have dresses of all shapes and sizes prepared and ready for adjustments, so we just need to see what your measurements are.”

“Oh, okay,” you agree, lifting your arms to allow her to measure your waist and chest. She measures everything from your shoulders to your ankles before wrapping the measuring tape back around her neck.

“Alright, all done. I’ll bring you your dresses either later today or tomorrow.”

“Okay. Thank you,” you say softly as you watch her go.

The second day is when you finally meet the prince himself. The same lady as before, which you found out her name is Iris, comes back the next day to help you get ready. After suiting you up, figuratively speaking since you’re in a dress, she leads you out of your room and to a dining room. The only thing that sits in the room is a long, mahogany table and chairs to match. She tells you to pick a seat before wishing you luck. You smile at her and walk towards the middle of the table, sitting there since most of the other girls are sitting towards the end, which you’re assuming is because they want to try and be closer to the prince.

You look up from your porcelain plate when someone sits across from you, your eyes meeting wild, red hair first. You smile at her when she looks at you, her own smile coming to her face as she sits down. The second thing you notice about her is her bright, blue eyes and the hundreds of freckles dusting her cheeks. You start to wonder what class she is from when the grand doors open. You quickly stand up when you see the other girls do so, your hands squeezing the sides of your dress. You eye the prince as he walks towards the table with his father and his sister, Princess Fuyumi. They get to their spots and the king looks you all over before saying, “Welcome, ladies, to my castle. My family and I are eager to meet with all of you. For now though, let us eat.”

After this, he and his two children sit down before the rest of you do, and you don’t begin eating until they start. You decide then to strike up a conversation with the redhead as you begin to eat, starting with asking her what her name was. Ironically enough, her name is Ruby. You shared a good laugh with her as she told you the story of her parents deciding her name.

After breakfast, the king announces that he is hosting a ball at the end of the week for his son’s birthday. You almost just decide to go ahead and pack up now at this news when he continues his announcement by reassuring you all that you’ll be given dance lessons. Joy.

After that day, you only see the prince again at meals like that. After the third day of dance lessons, you begin to wonder how exactly he plans on eliminating some of you and choosing a bride if he doesn’t even talk to you.

The day of the ball arrives before you know it and you’re just a little bit happy about it since that means no more horrid dance lessons. You’re still not the best, but you won’t be stepping on anyone’s toes. Iris helps you get ready in a purple gown that reminds you of her name. She helps you with your hair as well and slides your shoes on for you, despite you telling her that you can do it yourself, and then leads you to the ballroom. At the moment, only the other girls are here. You thank Iris one last time for her hard work before gravitating towards your newfound friend.

“Hey,” you greet Ruby, admiring her forest green dress.

“Hi!” her chipper voice greets back. You smile at that and look around at the other women, pausing when you notice something.

“Hey, are we down one?” you ask.

“What?”

You count all the girls twice before confirming what you thought and repeating your words. “Are we down one? There’s only nine here now, including you and me.” She pauses and looks around at the other girls too, discovering that your words are true.

“Oh. Maybe one of the girls is running late?” she offers. You shake your head at this though.

“They never let us be late to anything. I think the prince kicked someone out already,” you say softly to her.

“What? Really? Already?” she nervously asks, starting to fix her dress and hair.

“I guess so. Strange, seeing as how I haven’t even had a conversation with him yet. I doubt she got the chance to either.” You two go quiet after that until Ruby interrupts that silence.

“Gosh, I’m so nervous now. I think I might sweat through my dress,” she groans. You chuckle at her words while looking around at the decorated ballroom.

“Don’t be. I wouldn’t be surprised if the prince stayed by the punch bowl all night,” you giggle, watching her smile come back to her face.

“I don’t know, I heard some of the others girls saying that—”

She’s cut off by a pair of big doors opening to reveal guests trickling inside. “Oh, I guess it’s starting.” You two move to the side of the room as you watch men, women, and people alike dressed in expensive clothes filter inside. Just when you think the room is going to be too packed for any of you to even move, the doors close and everyone grows quiet.

You turn to see the royal family at the railing of the double staircase looking down on everyone from their vantage point. “Greetings friends, family, and contestants. Thank you for taking time out of your busy schedules to come here tonight. We celebrate my son’s birthday tonight and that he’s on his way to finding a bride! Let us drink and be merry!” Everyone claps when he finishes and as soon as they start moving downstairs, ball music starts. You take a deep breath and turn to look at Ruby to start up another conversation with her. Except you can’t since a knight is asking her to dance. She blushes as red as her hair as she agrees, gently taking ahold of his hand and letting him whisk her away.

You sigh as you watch her go, ignoring the urge to lean against the wall. You already know that if you did, you’d get scolded for not appearing lady-like. You can’t help but roll your eyes at the thought of one of the king’s or prince’s advisors scurrying over to you just to tell you to stand up tall.

You sigh a second time and leave the edge of the room to go to the other side of the room where the finger food and punch bowls are. You glance around you as you pick up something that looks like a yellow flower and shove it whole into your mouth.

“Wow, you must be hungry.” You almost choke as you whip your head around to find the prince standing next to you, a small, amused smile on his lips. Oh my god. You quickly cover your mouth and begin chewing at the speed of light, swallowing it despite the fact that you didn’t get to finish chewing it.

“No! I mean, yes! I mean—”

“Will you dance with me?” Your fumbling comes to a stop when he asks you to dance with him, all the air suddenly leaving your lungs.

“Oh, um, sure,” you wheeze, gently taking his outstretched hand. He leads you away from the table towards the middle of the dance floor, your cheeks growing warm at the thought of how many eyes are going to be on you. He brings his other hand to your waist while you bring your hand to his shoulder, your eyes staring down at your feet once you start moving.

“You’re (Y/n), right?” he asks softly.

“Yeah. I mean, yes, Your Highness,” you correct, mentally cursing yourself as you stare down at your feet.

“You don’t have to do that, you know,” he informs.

“What?” you ask, finally tilting your head back to look up at him.

“Refer to me as that. The same goes for Your Majesty and Prince Shoto.” You blow air past your lips and make a pfft sound, smiling at him.

“You’re kidding, right? Your advisor just about bit my head off the other day when I accidentally referred to you as just Shoto.”

“Yes, everyone is quite strict about that. I’m not though. When it’s just the two of us, please refer to me as Shoto, okay?” You lick your lips and press them together, slowly nodding your head. You bring your head back down to look at your feet, trying to make sure you don’t mess up. “Don’t do that either,” he commands.

“Don’t do what?” you ask, still looking down, afraid you had done something to upset him. His hand suddenly leaves your waist and is placed underneath your chin, his fingers gently applying pressure to bring your head back up.

“Stare down like that. I want to see your face.” You can feel the heat crawl up your chest and spread across your face, your whole body feeling too warm now.

“Sorry,” you stutter out, your grip tightening a bit on his shoulder. You spend the rest of your time in peaceful silence, both of you listening to the music and dancing away. You also use this time to actually get a good look at him. The first thing you noticed was his eyes. His eyes are heterochromia, one grey and one blue. The second thing you notice is the scar around his blue eye, but you make sure not to look at it for too long. You continue to admire his handsome features for the rest of the dance, finding the song is coming to an end quite soon.

To your surprise though, he doesn’t let you go. He continues to dance with you until the end of the second song. You’re not sure if he would’ve stopped on his own or not since someone cut in and asked for a dance with him. He bows while you curtsy, your eyes remaining glued to each other. “Save me another dance,” he says softly before turning to the next person and beginning to dance with them.

After having that one on one moment with the prince, you find your eyes always wandering to him when he’s in the same room as you, and, more often than not, he catches you staring at him. You, oddly enough, go about two days without seeing him again, other than when you’re in the dining hall. It still doesn’t make sense to you that he doesn’t try making an effort to meet any of the girls that could potentially become his bride.

You blink a couple of times and realize that you just read an entire page of your book and didn’t actually process any of it since you were too busy thinking about the prince. Again. You sigh and look up from the book to look out the window that’s sill you are currently perched on. Your eyes widen when you find the prince down in the garden, taking a leisurely stroll around the hundreds of flowers. You watch him for a long moment, a soft smile finding its way to your lips as he stops to smell some flowers that you don’t know the name of. They’re unlike anything you’ve ever seen.

You gasp when his eyes suddenly flit up to yours, your entire head turning away from the window in embarrassment. You really need to stop getting caught staring at the handsome man. You take a deep breath and bring your eyes back to your book, determined to finish this chapter before dinner.

As you’re sitting there flipping page after page, you get the odd feeling you’re being watched. You look back out the window but find that the prince isn’t in the garden anymore, at least not the part that you can see from your spot. You turn your head the other way towards the library only to find the prince himself leaning against a bookshelf.

“Ah, I’ve been caught,” he says playfully, giving you a small smile that, despite its small size, almost blinds you.

“Your Highness,” you greet, clambering to get up to curtsey.

“Ah ah, we talked about this,” Shoto warns with a single palm facing you. You stop halfway out of your seat, your cheeks growing warm.

“Sorry, Prin—I mean, Shoto!” you stutter, feeling your ears get hot now with embarrassment. He chuckles and walks over to you, taking a seat beside you on the window sill.

“What are you reading?” he asks, thankfully deciding to ignore your fumbling words. You stare at him for a moment before quickly looking down at the book in your hands. You flip it over onto it’s back to show the front to him, the title written in big, cursive letters. “Scarlet? I don’t think I’ve ever read it. What’s it about?” he says as he reads the title, leaning back against the wall. You stare down at the book, trying to calm your racing heart and shaky hands.

“Oh, um, I haven’t finished it yet. But it’s basically another Robin Hood tale, but it focuses on the story of one of his merry men who is actually a woman pretending to be a man. She has a dark past she’s trying to get away from and she slowly begins to fall in love with Robin Hood. It’s actually a really good book,” you explain, turning your eyes back to him only to find him intently watching you. “Uh, then again, I don’t know what kind of books you like to read. Oh! Or if you like to read at all! Not that I’m saying I’m assuming you do or don’t! I’m sure you have plenty of hobbies—” You cut yourself off when Shoto begins to laugh, his eyes lighting up with his laughter. You take a deep breath and then begin to giggle right alongside him.

“I love to read, actually. No one else in the castle seems to care about books though. I’m really the only one who ever comes in here.” He pauses for a moment to study you before continuing, “And it does indeed sound like a good book. Thank you for telling me about it. Mind if I read it when you’re done?”

You start nodding your head rapidly before your brain can even process what he’s asked you. “Yes! Of course! I should be done with it by tomorrow or so!” you reply faster than your mouth can move. He chuckles at your garbled speech but seems to understand what you’ve said.

“Great. Why don’t you bring it by my quarters when you’re through?” he offers as he stands up from the window sill. You nod your head with a dumb grin, watching him chuckle softly as he heads for the door. “Alright, thank you. See you around, Miss (Y/n).”

You don’t process what you’ve agreed to until he’s out of the room and you can finally get oxygen into your lungs and to your brain. Wait, his quarters? As in, his chambers? As in, his bedroom? You suck in a shallow breath and hold it, trying to keep your brain from wandering into dangerous territory.

You don’t even realize you don’t know where his quarters are until you’re done with the book.

There you are wandering around the halls trying to figure out where his quarters would be. It isn’t until you come across dozens of guards in one hallway that you figure it out.

“Halt! Who goes there?” a knight calls, pointing his very pointy staff in your direction.

“Uh, (Y/n)?” you answer, cringing when it comes out more like a question. “I’m, um, one of the contestants,” you inform.

“Turn back now. Contestants are not allowed to be in this side of the castle after the first incident.”

First incident?

“Oh, um, okay. That’s fine. I was just told by Sh—the prince! To come and bring this book to him when I was done with it,” you explain, holding up said book.

“Then I shall deliver it for you,” the knight announces and begins walking towards you. You take a step back though.

“Uh, no, that’s alright. I’ll just give it to him the next time I see him,” you say softly as you turn to leave.

“Just give it here,” the knight demands as he takes hold of your wrist.

“No, just let go of me! You’re making this a bigger deal than it needs to be!” you shout a little louder than what you meant.

“Stop being a whiny little brat and jus—”

“Release her this instant!” you hear someone boom from behind the knight. The guard freezes and turns to look over his shoulder to find a glaring Shoto looking right at him.

“Your Highness, she was—”

“I will bet every last penny I own that she, in fact, has done nothing wrong. Miss (Y/n) is not Miss Cecilia. Now, let her go,” Shoto says with an ice to his tone that you’ve never heard from him. The knight does indeed let you go though and takes a step away from you as well. “Now, apologize to her,” he commands.

“I apologize, Miss (Y/n),” the knight says as he bows to you. You can’t tell if it’s genuine or not but you honestly don’t care. You just want to get everyone’s eyes off of your flustered self.

“It’s fine. Really,” you reassure, gripping the book to your chest with your arm while your now free hand goes to the wrist that was held by the guard.

Shoto’s eyes catch this.

“Miss (Y/n), please come in,” Shoto says as he starts to walk back towards his chambers. “Miss (Y/n) is always allowed into my chambers, no matter what the scenario may be. Understood?” he says to his personal guards.

“Yes sir!” they all reply in sync, placing their right fist over their heart.

“Good. Make sure to spread the word to the other guards.” And with that, you scurry after him to follow him into his room. You honestly felt a little too hot in this big dress of yours, your eyes shifting this way and that in nervousness.

“I’m sorry about that. They’re just trying to do their job. Are you alright?” Shoto speaks softly as he closes the door behind you both, gently taking your hand in his to look over your wrist.

“Yes, yes, I’m fine. It’s not a big deal, really,” you brush off, trying to ignore the heat that ignites where he touches you with his left hand.

“Alright, if you’re sure. I still am sorry though,” he whispers, bringing your hand up to his lips only to kiss the inside of your wrist. You might actually burst into flames from how high your body temperature is getting.

“Don’t apologize. It’s not your fault, but, um, what did you mean by Miss Cecilia?” you meekly reply, deciding now is a good time to look away from him and at his spotless room instead.

“Do you not know? Miss Cecilia was a contestant, just like you. She was from District Seven. I’m not sure what came over her, but she somehow snuck past the two guards that are always posted at my door and came into my room. She tried to seduce me and when I turned her down, she got violent.” You gape up at him as he tells you this story, not believing that someone had the audacity to do something like this. “I knew that if I were to tell my father, she would have been beheaded, so I just told them that I had no interest in her and to send her home.” You gulp at this, it all coming together now why one of the girls was missing during the ball.

“I’m sorry that happened,” you mumble. He smiles at you and moves to his plush loveseat that sits in one of the corners of his room.

“Don’t apologize. It’s not your fault,” he repeats your words, making you hum and smile softly at him. “So, you brought the book? How was it?” With the subject changed, you hand him the book and start ranting about how much you loved the book. You made sure not to reveal any major spoilers for him though.

You two ended up talking until the moon was high in the dark sky, your laughter soft and your yawns eventually becoming more persistent. Once you two decide to call it a night, he leads you out of his room to escort you to yours. When you reach your door, he lifts your hand to his lips once more and kisses the back of your hand this time. “I hope you have sweet dreams,” he whispers before letting your hand go and walking back the way he came.

You hope your dreams are all filled with him.

Your nightly chats end up bringing you much closer than any of the other contestants ever thought possible. While they dreamed and fantasized about possibly being his wife and future queen, you two have become more than just a possibility. You both end up making a habit out of secretly seeing each other every night, whether it be in the library, the garden, wherever. A month later though, it’s ruined by the talk show that you’ve been informed will happen each month until a single contestant has won.

“Stop fussing, I look great,” you laugh at Iris who is fixing your hair for the second time.

“You need to look better than great, sweetheart. You need to look perfect. All eyes are gonna be on you tonight at some point, so we need to make sure you look your absolute best.” You simply smile at her words and let her do as she pleases. Iris has honestly become your best friend here, Ruby coming in at a close second. You even ended up telling Iris that you have a crush on the prince only for her to respond with, “You and everyone else, plus their mama’s.” You love her sense of humor and her sense of style. She always makes you look like the princess that you hope to become.

Wow, you can’t believe you’re saying stuff like this now. Just a month ago you were dreading coming here and being forced to be around the royals. Now, you’re hoping you never leave if only to be with the prince.

You both turn when there’s a knock on the door, an advisor poking their head in to let you know that cameras will start rolling in ten minutes and that you need to be ready backstage in five. You take a deep breath when they close the door, your eyes finding Iris’ deep brown ones. “I’m nervous,” you admit to her.

“Awe, don’t be, sugar plum. The whole staff knows that you’re the prince’s favorite. I love bragging that my girl is the prince’s number one,” she coos, finally finishing the final touches on your hair. Your face bursts into flames at her words though.

“What? I am not his favorite!” you splutter out, watching her laugh as she sprays your neck, chest, and wrists in perfume.

“Yes, you are. Now, let’s get going!” She doesn’t give you time to argue since she’s tugging you out of the chair and towards the stage. She puts you last in the line of contestants, seeing as how you’re from District Nine and the girl from Ten has already been disqualified. There are only seven girls left now when just a couple of weeks ago there were nine.

You listen as someone counts down from three and someone, who you’re assuming is the host, begins laughing. “Welcome, welcome! It is I, Caesar Flickerman, your lovely host for this evening! Right beside me is the even lovelier Prince Shoto!” At the mention of the prince, the crowd erupts into cheers, mainly full of fans screaming. “Wowza! It seems you have some fans, Your Highness!” the host teases the prince, knowing good and well the crowd is always like this when Shoto is on set, or when he goes anywhere, really.

“I’m honored,” Shoto states simply, making the crowd roar with how humble he is. They’re both angled towards the crowd and a single chair and all of the contestants are to sit to the right of them which is slightly behind their chairs.

“Alright, I guess we should get to the good stuff then, yes? Let’s bring out the contestants!” At this, the first girl, who is from District One, begins walking out in which the rest of you follow. People clap as you all walk out, sitting in chairs behind where Caesar and Shoto sit. “Welcome, ladies! My oh my, you all are sure pretty! I don’t know how Prince Shoto here will ever choose just one of you!” he says playfully with a big smile, making the rest of the crowd laugh. “Alright then! Lucky lady number one, please join us down here!” The girl from District One stands and walks towards the empty chair before them, her white dress and tall heels glittering in the studio lights.

After she sits down, Caesar flashes her a big smile as he crosses one leg over the other, just like she did. “Why don’t you start by introducing yourself?” he offers.

“You don’t know who I am?” she asks, raising a light, blonde brow at him.

“Well, of course I do, Princess Tina!” he reassures with a wink. She gives a low hum as she turns to look at one of the cameras now.

“My name is Princess Tina Renoli of the Renoli Kingdom. I’m from District One,” she introduces, giving the camera a sparkling smile.

“My, what a mouthful!” Caesar jokes, making everyone laugh, but she just gives him a slight scowl. “Well, let’s get to the questions!” He then asks her and all the other ladies after her simple questions like what did you dream of doing growing up? and What would you do if you won a million dollars?

When it’s finally your turn though, you feel like you’re going to puke all over Caesar’s nice shoes. “My, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes!” Caesar teases, seeming to sense your nervousness. You bark out a laugh before quickly covering your mouth, scared to sound unlady-like or to make Shoto think you have an ugly laugh.

“Ah, thank you,” you say softly, trying to force the heat away from your cheeks.

“You’re very welcome! Please, introduce yourself!”

“Oh, right! Um, my name is (Y/n) (L/n) and I’m from District Nine,” you introduce, shyly smiling at the crowd and camera.

“Awe, you’re just the sweetest thing!” Caesar coos. He then chuckles and leans back into his seat. “So, (Y/n), living in the castle must be quite different than living in District Nine. Tell us, what do you like most about being in the castle?”

You nibble your lip as he asks his question, taking a moment to process it before answering. “What, besides the huge bed and glorious food?” you joke. “I love the library,” you answer seriously. Caesar’s eyes widen at this though as he gapes at you a bit.

“Oh, really? I didn’t think…” he trails off. He didn’t have to finish his words for you to know what he was going to say. I didn’t think people, especially women, from District Nine knew how to read. He clears his throat and quickly corrects himself, “How interesting! Tell me, what’s your favorite book?”

If someone would’ve asked you this question before, there would’ve been no way you would’ve been able to narrow it down to just one book. Now, you look to Shoto with a shy smile and quietly supply, “Scarlet. It’s an action and adventure book with a dash of romance.”

“Ooh! Sounds exciting! I know all of us here love us some romance! Don’t we?” he says excitedly as he turns to the crowd for confirmation, who just screech and holler in response to confirm that he is indeed right. “Ha! That’s what I thought!” You chuckle now that you’ve calmed down some, your body finally relaxing.

“Let’s move on with the questions! So, (Y/n), what would be your ideal first date?” Caesar asks with a grin. You blush a bit at the question as you try to think of an answer.

“Oh, um, I suppose having a picnic in the castle’s large garden would be lovely. Maybe even being able to read a book in comfortable silence or even to each other,” you sheepishly reply. Caesar, and everyone else for that matter, awes at your answer.

“That is the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard!” Caesar gushes, playfully bringing his hands to his cheeks and kicking his legs in the air. You outright laugh at his silly behavior, feeling the vice-like grip your nerves have on your chest loosen more.

“Okay, last question before we move onto Prince Shoto!” he announces, smiling when the crowd cheers. “So, I’m curious to hear your answer for this one. If you were queen, what would you change? We’ve never had someone from a District lower than five become royalty, after all.” What would you do if you became queen?

The answer almost comes to you instantly.

“I would get rid of the districts,” you answer confidently. At your words though, the crowd gasps and instantly bursts into worried and angered murmurs. Caesar gapes at you in shock, surprised you would say such a thing on live television.

“You would do what now?” is all that Caesar can come up with to say. Your face sets into determination as you stare back at him.

“I would get rid of the Districts once and for all. There is no reason to have all of us divided this way. All it does is separate us and make the higher districts believe they’re better than the lower districts, when they’re not.” As soon as you finish, Caesar is awkwardly laughing and turning to the cameras.

“And that’s all the time we have for the contestants, folks! Thank you ladies for answering all of our questions!” Caesar rushes through to move onto Shoto’s question time. You frown at the fact that you are once again being silenced, your eyes moving to Shoto’s, who isn’t really showing you any emotion right now.

Great. He’s probably angry at you and disgusted by your beliefs. So much for winning this thing and being by his side.

You stand and move back to your seat, finding that the first three girls are giving you nasty looks as you pass by them to get back to your chair. Shoto stands and takes the place you were once in so that he can be across from Caesar.

“You have quite the tough decision to make, Your Highness! Tell me, how have you eliminated the three girls that are no longer in the competition?”

“Well, it’s simple really. I’m just like anyone else when it comes to dating. You can tell almost right away if you click with someone or not. I simply didn’t click with the three girls that are no longer here,” he explains calmly. Caesar hums and nods his head in understanding.

“Well, may I just say that you are very humble! I would’ve tried keeping all these pretty girls for myself!” he jokes, trying to get the crowd to laugh in which he succeeds in. Shoto politely chuckles along with them at his joke. “So, I must ask if you have a favorite,” Caesar fake whispers to Shoto.

“No, I don’t,” Shoto replies immediately, but that doesn’t stop his eyes from flickering over to you which causes your breathing to stop.

“Ah! I saw that! Who did you just look at?” Caesar squeals, turning more to his right to see who is at the end of the line. His eyes meet yours and instantly move away to the other girls next to you. “Oh, I bet it’s lucky girl number six, isn’t it?” Ruby.

“I’m assuming she’s your favorite then?” Shoto teasingly asks with a raise of his brow. Caesar fakes bashfulness as he rubs the back of his neck.

“Well, I’ve always been a sucker for a pretty girl in the color purple,” he jokes, causing Ruby to giggle and playfully blow a kiss at Caesar, to which Caesar catches and tucks it away into his pocket.

“Miss (Y/n) actually wore a beautiful lavender dress the night I met her,” Shoto informs and, if you didn’t know any better, you’d say that he let that slip without thinking. Caesar’s smile goes tight at the mention of you though.

“Oh? Did she? Well, I’m sure she looked very nice!” After this is said, he quickly changes the subject and begins shooting question after question at Shoto. After ten questions or so, Caesar finally ends the show and bids farewell to all the watchers back home. The cameras then shut off and you feel like you can finally breathe again. You don’t bother waiting around here though as you quickly stand, pick up your dress, and swiftly leave the stage.

Your previous words from the show didn’t sit well with some of the contestants, most of whom are a part of the upper divisions. One morning, it was decided that all of the contestants were required to go to the royal classroom to begin learning about the nation’s history. You went there every day from eight in the morning to right before dinner time. By this point, there are only six contestants left from Districts One, Two, Three, Five, Six, and Nine, which is you. You honestly don’t know how you’ve made it this long, especially since the king makes it his mission to glare at you whenever you’re within eyesight. You’re not sure why Prince Shoto is keeping you around at this point.

One particular day, your teacher had decided to let you all go an hour earlier than usual, for which you all were thankful for. You were one of the last ones to leave, which turned out to be a mistake since contestants from Districts One through Three were outside the classroom waiting for you.

“Well, well, well, look who it is. It’s the dirty little girl from District Poor,” Princess Tina taunts, her two sidekicks, Sandy and Cindy, snickering at her words. You roll your eyes and go to move past her when she snatches your book out of your hand.

“Hey!” you shout, moving to grab it only for the girl from District Three to shove you away and come between you two.

“Aww, does the little nerd want her book back?” she sneers, starting to flip through it with boredom clearly etched into her pretty features. “Ugh, hopeless romantic much?” she groans as she finds a kissing scene. “God, you’re so pathetic. You can’t get the romance you so desperately crave in real life so you read it in fairytales.”

You remain quiet, clenching your jaw to help you remain silent. “What? Brainiac has nothing to say?” the girl from District Two teases. Your eyes move to her as you cross your arms over your chest, taking a deep, calming breath as you raise your brow at the three of them.

“You do realize that the prince can only choose one of us, right? Why are you three banding together when, in the end, you’re just going to have to fight for the prince?” Cindy and Sandy pause at this, sharing a worried look.

“Don’t listen to her, girls! She’s just trying to put us against each other!” Tina shouts, throwing your book at you and hitting your cheek. You let out a small cry and cradle the spot, feeling it throb. “Maybe if we make her ugly enough, the prince will want nothing to do with her!” Tina suggests, convincing her minions that you’re the enemy, not her.

Before you can react, you’re being shoved to the wall by Tina. If it was just her, you probably could’ve taken her. Seeing as how it was three against one though, you didn’t stand a chance. That doesn’t mean you didn’t go down without a fight though. You kick and hit at them as they all swarm you, scratching at your skin, slapping and punching other marks into your skin.

Once they had enough, they back up and let you fall to the ground. Sandy and Cindy stare down at you, what seems to be sympathy and regret in their eyes. That disappears though when Tina loops her arms through theirs and smugly smiles down at you. “You might as well just go home now. The prince has never wanted you and never will. He’s only kept you around for as long as he has because he felt bad and needed the votes of all the rest of the losers like you.” Once she finishes her spiel, she spits at you before turning with her minions and walking away with giggles escaping her.

You didn’t let a single tear fall the entire time they tormented you but as soon as she walked away, you couldn’t help the tears that swarm your vision. You can’t believe you’re even going to listen to her, but what if she’s right? Shoto hasn’t spoken to you or visited you in the library since what you said on the talk show. He probably thinks you’re a joke and only keeps you around to gain the acceptance and love of the lower districts who are rooting for you to win.

What a joke.

You sniffle and wipe at your teary and bloody face before pushing yourself to stand, only having stumbled and fallen down two times on the way to your room. Once you reach your room, you curl up in the bed and let the sobs flow freely. You miss home. You miss hearing your mother play the piano. You miss your father getting yelled at by your mother for showing up at the dinner table still covered in paint. You miss your brother teasing you about liking to read, despite the fact that he was the one begging you to teach him how. You even miss the dumb leak in the corner of your room that could fill up an entire bucket after a storm. You end up crying yourself to sleep, ruining the satin covers and sheets with your blood and tears.

You wake up from a knock at your door, hearing Iris’ comforting voice. “Sweetie? Are you awake yet? You’re going to miss breakfast!” she calls through the door.

“Yes,” you croak, much too quietly for her to hear. You clear your throat and try again, “Yes, I’m awake. I don’t feel well though. I’m just going to go back to sleep.”

“What? You know you can’t miss a meal. Are you sick?” she calls, trying to open the door only to find it locked. Oh, good. At least you had the mind to lock it last night.

“Yes, I feel sick,” you inform. It wasn’t a complete lie.

“Alright, I’ll let them know that you will be absent,” she says softly before you hear her footsteps fade away. You slowly sit up and feel your head pound as you do, a grimace taking over your features. You slowly slide off the bed and frown when you see the mess you left on the lovely covers. You can’t find it in yourself to feel guilty though as you move to your personal bathroom to clean up. You make the shower’s water lukewarm before slowly stepping under the spray, biting back a hiss when the water hits your open wounds. They aren’t that bad, mainly just scratch marks, but your mother always used to tell you it’s the smaller wounds that hurt the most. You know she was just trying to make you feel better when you felt embarrassed by balling like a baby when you skid your knee, but it comforts you now.

You clean yourself up and then get out of the shower, standing before the mirror with sad eyes. Your cheek is bruising from where she threw the book at your face. You’re just glad it wasn’t your eye. Scratch marks litter your face, neck, chest, and arms along with small bruises. Your eyes start to sting again, surprised just how far people will go to get what they want. It never mattered who they put down to get what they wanted.

You leave the bathroom to go to your wardrobe, pulling out one of the few dresses you owned from back home. This dress is a light sundress that should be open and loose enough not to disturb any of your wounds. You let out a heavy sigh as you pull out your suitcase underneath your bed, setting it on the grand mattress before starting to place all of your things back inside of it. You can’t believe you’re going to quit after all this time, letting Tina and the others get to you and get their wish.

You sniffle and wipe at your eyes when your vision starts to blur again with tears. You really did love Shoto. God, you’re even using the L-word now. Could you get any more pathetic? Tina is right. You’ll always be some dumb loser who won’t amount to anything.

You jump out of your skin when there’s a knock at the door. “Iris, I already told you that I’m not hungry,” you weakly call, quickly rubbing at your eyes since she is probably going to want to come in anyway. She’s going to lose it when she sees the state you’re in. She doesn’t verbally answer though, simply giving another knock. You sigh and walk over to the door, unlocking it as you say, “Fine, you can come in. Don’t start nagging me abou—”

Your heart beats so hard against your chest that you’re pretty sure it just flew right out of your chest and into the tray of food that Shoto is holding. He stares at you with widened eyes, his beautiful heterochromia eyes moving this way and that across your upper body, no doubt gawking at the marks on you. You quickly start to swing the door shut, gasping when he sticks his foot out and stops you from closing the door.

“Let me in,” he commands, his voice getting the icy tone it had when regarding that one guard.

“Your Highne—”

“I said open the door!” he shouts, making your body quiver at his demanding tone. You quickly move away from the door and put your back to him, listening to him rush in and close the door behind himself. He sets the tray down somewhere, you’re assuming on the small table in front of your sofa by the door, before you hear his footsteps come towards you. You tense up when he stops right behind you, the warmth of his body radiating against yours.

You almost start to believe you’ve imagined the whole encounter when nothing happens right away. You jump a bit when fingers gently brush over your arm, ghosting over scratches that lay there. “Please turn around,” he whispers, his voice sounding...broken? You shake your head despite his worry though, pulling your arm away from his hand. “Please,” he shakily whispers again, placing his hand on your upper arm but not forcing you to turn around.

If you were stronger, you wouldn’t have turned around, but you’re a desperate woman who wants the attention of the one she loves. You slowly turn around but keep your eyes downcast, hearing Shoto suck in a breath when you’re fully facing him. “What happened?” he mumbles, gently placing both hands onto your upper arms now. You cross your arms over your chest, shaking your head as you continue to stare down at your feet. His hands leave your arms to go up to your cheeks, cupping them and tilting your head up to face him. Your teary eyes widen when you find his eyes are moist as well.

“Who did this to you?” he asks so softly that you wouldn’t have heard him if he were any farther away. You shake your head again, closing your eyes and letting tears cascade down your face. He’s quick to catch them though, gently wiping them away. With your eyes closed, you don’t see him look over your shoulder to your bed that has your half-packed luggage sitting there.

“Please don’t go,” he croaks, making your eyes fly open to find him crying now as well. You gawk at this, at the fact that he doesn’t want you to leave and that he’s crying. Crying.

“I don’t belong here, Sho,” you whisper, using the nickname that you gave him one of the many nights you two laid under the stars, talking the night away.

“Who put that thought into your head? Caesar? My father? One of the other contestants?” he asks, moving his hands to your shoulders now. “It doesn’t matter who because whoever it is, they’re wrong. You belong here, with me. No. I belong wherever you are. Do you wish to go home? I can come with you.” Shoto speaks fast as he tries to make you happy, his worried frown and jumbled words only succeeding in bringing a smile to your face.

“Sho, calm down. You need to stay here, for your kingdom. Your...your older brother has already died in war and your sister will one day be married off to another kingdom. You must remain here and take care of your people,” you say softly, lightly knocking your head against his.

“Stay by my side then. Become my wife and the future queen,” he whispers, the words being mouthed against your lips from how close he’s gotten to you. His words make you rear back and stare at him as if he’d grown another head.

“Are you mad? No one wants me to be princess, let alone queen!”

“I do! The lower districts do! God, just saying that angers me. You’re right, I want to be rid of the stupid districts just as much as you do.” You’re not sure why those words specifically have your gut churning in pleasure, but the next thing you know, your lips are smashed against his.

It’s a very messy kiss, filled with teeth, spit, and too much tongue, and you can tell he’s inexperienced, but God, you’ve never experienced anything hotter in your life. His hands gently cup the side of your neck, keeping you in place as he passionately kisses you back. It didn’t take long for you both to run out of air, pulling away almost at the same time to gasp for the oxygen that you lack.

You stare into each other’s eyes with half-lidded ones, your breaths mingling with how close you two remain together. “Marry me,” he begs between pants, looking at you with hopeful eyes.

“Fine,” you grumpily agree despite the fact that your heart is currently soaring. He smiles brighter than you’ve ever seen as he smashes his lips back against yours.

I used to hear a simple song That was until you came along Now in its place is something new I hear it when I look at you

Shoto doesn’t really know what came over him. You agreed to marry him all those years ago and with his father passed, you and he are the new king and queen. He swears that he feels like a completely different person, his subjects have definitely taken notice as well. He used to be quiet and polite, only speaking when spoken to. Now, with you by his side, he can laugh as loudly as he wants to and let his smile go from ear to ear without a care in the world.

He doesn’t think he’ll ever tell you this, but he swears that every time he looks at you, it’s like angels are singing, letting him know that he made the right choice choosing you as his bride. He, honest to God, has never been happier in his life.

With simple songs I wanted more Perfection is so quick to bore You are more beautiful by far Our flaws are who we really are

Growing up, all around him he had people telling him how to look, how to dress, how to eat, how to do everything. He found that hiding his emotions and what he was truly thinking became easier than having to put up with rulers to his hands every time he rolled his eyes or made a snide comment. It was hard for a kid his age to be perfect in the eyes of everyone around him. It was boring and he hated his life for the longest. When he used to ride through the districts to get to other kingdoms as a child, his face would be solemn as he watched through the windows at other kids his age running around screaming as they kicked a ball or played some sort of game where they touched the others before quickly scrambling away with loud laughs and screeches. He wasn’t allowed to have flaws, despite the fact that he had many of them, just like everyone else.

He had to be perfect.

You never had to worry about such things before though. In his eyes, you’re already perfect, despite all of your flaws. You always get so flustered when you catch him staring and he just compliments you no matter how you look or what you’re doing. He couldn’t ask for anyone better.

I used to hear a simple song That was until you came along You took my broken melody And now I hear a symphony

Now, the kingdom you two share is a completely different place. The districts were removed as soon as he was announced king and he had never felt happier in his life when you hugged him and thanked him. It was a dream come true for you. Finally, all your friends and family back home could move to better places and earn more money. Your instant family came to live in the castle with you though and he watched with tearful eyes as you reunited with your family at long last. Your parents were iffy around him at first, since he was still learning how to show emotion around others, but after a little while of being around him, they came to love him just as you did.

Every night when you two go to sleep cuddled up in your bed, he gently runs his hands over your arm, your hip, everywhere he could touch you. You didn’t feel real to him. It was like you were too good to be true. He never once thought that his required marriage and the stupid competition would lead him to finding the love of his life. He also figured his marriage would end up like his parent’s. Loveless. Sad. Boring. Seeing the worry in his eyes, you passionately kissed all his worries away and he swears that the angels singing turned to many angels singing, pianos, violins, harps, a whole symphony would play.

He wants to hear that sound every day.

⊱ ────── {⋅. ♪ .⋅} ────── ⊰

MASTERLIST

More with Todoroki!!

Join my discord: https://discord.gg/qnDxJ6rr67

Tag List: @nojamsss03, @katsuhera, and @katsulovee ✦ if you would like to be added or removed, comment or send an ask. Also, remember to tell me if you ever change your username so I can continue to tag you :)

⊱ ────── {⋅. ♪ .⋅} ────── ⊰

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cipheress-to-k-pop · 3 years ago

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Stark!reader dating peter and being a mom friend to web warriors. Peter being awestruck how she does it, one asks her "what's the secret?" and she nonchalantly replies "avengers r much worse and practically grew up in tower so it was easy catching some tricks"😆

p.s. its alright if u dont wanna write it... Ans it as a concept discussion thingy 😄

I was thinking about writing a fic about this but I think I'm still a little out of it so I'd rather just discuss it as a concept

I feel like stark!reader would just be so used to being waited on by literally everyone in her entire life. I mean, no surprise there, she's constantly around people who are twice her age so the avengers really dote on her and she's also incredibly rich so she's never had to lift a finger her entire life.

when she begins dating peter, she isn't really the stereotypical "mom" friend. like not as nurturing and warm and apple pies and fresh cookies type, uk? She's more of a 'omg my precious baby boy pete looks like he hasn't slept in ages? darling come lie down here while i book a flight to bali because you need some tlc'

she's always been on the receiving end of endless care from numerous people so she KNOWS how to take care of other people even though it might not be as "warm" as one might expect

kind of radiates rich wine aunt energy

so when she sees a bunch of spiders who all kind of remind her of her precious boyfriend, she's like okay must protect all of them

peter is a little threatened with how much she ends up liking ben but she insists that it's because ben reminds her of her dad

okay i just realized that ive been writing this in the 3rd pov so ill just switch to 2nd from here on out

you love taking care of the boys, fancy brunch parties where they just need to unwind, inviting them to the tower so they can have a well rested night in one of your many guest rooms because you're sure that sleeping on those dorm beds must be hurting their backs

your peter sleeps in your bed tho hehe

since you're not a spider, you doesn't really get mixed up between them and stick out like a sore thumb

this really helps when they're in a middle of an argument because usually you're able to just calm things down when they're all just yelling at each others faces with absolutely no comprehension going on

(ooof just got a flashback from the 10th grade where i was yelling at my classmates because i got all worked up for an assembly and my friend starting yelling at me to stop yelling. i got humbled real fast)

i mean it isn't really too bad compared to what you have to go through back home

with tony being stubborn as an ass

natasha threatening everyone and anyone

steve being petty and also stubborn

bucky just staring at everyone which makes the atmosphere a little more tense and you don't really know why

and then everyone is just yelling and spitting everywhere and you don't even know how bruce the pacifist managed to get dragged into this

and why is thor even yelling? the man has no idea what even is going on right now?

and you're just sitting uncomfortably between all of them because you made the mistake of trying to get an apple juice in the middle of their argument and then you're dad asked you for your 'opinion' and every time you tried to excuse yourself he'd say 'no no sit back down we wanna hear an unbiased opinion'

yep

the spiders are like tiny toddlers compared to them

you've gotten pretty used to tuning them out

but every once in a while when you're already out of fucks or when they're arguing about something that's actually important or involving you

and amadeus is tap dancing on your last nerve because he's refusing to listen and reminding you of your dad to a tee when he's being obnoxious

it is during those moments they see hell right before them when you slam your hands against the table and yell 'ENOUGH'

you could here a needle drop at that point

and everyone is in their seats obediently, staring at their laps like 'yes ma'am'

peter is always amazed and like 'wow you should be mediator for our arguments'

and then immediately takes his words back when you turn to him with a glare that could kill loki permanently

'or maybe not'

#thanks for the ask!#peter parker x reader #peter parker headcanon #peter parker #peter parker x stark!daughter #peter parker x stark!reader #peter parker drabble #avengers headcanons

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jeonfiles · 4 years ago

Text

better left unsaid - jjk

genre: angst, rebounds

pairings: jungkook x reader (ft. namjoon)

warnings: arguing, alcohol, profanity, break ups, light smut, use of drugs, jungkook is a fucking dick, jungkook has major attachment issues, toxic relationships, oc cries a lot, namjoon has a heart of gold, unrequited love

synopsis: you knew you shouldnt have given him that second chance, not the third or the fourth either. no matter how much you try he always slithers his way underneath your sheets, arms wrapped around you.

word count: 2.7k

music: into your arms, so it ends?, you will fade, thinkin bout you, julia, my insecurities not yours, fuck u, goodluck, my dear i will think of you

note: uhh ive never written a y/n fic so bare with me, if u listen to the music you’ll be able to feel the story a lot more so yeah if u have time u should, not proof read

Light coming through the cracks of the blinds, making you squint your eyes when the daylight beams into your eyes, head resting on the kitchen island Looking up, you saw the clock ticking on the wall, 11:32 am.

You had stayed up till 5 am, waiting for him to come home, but seemingly, he never did. Reaching for your phone, you saw 4 missed calls from the one and only,

Jeon Jungkook, saved in your phone as “Koo <3″, Rows of messages too, all from the same contact.

Koo <3 [05:34 am]

baby pkck me up pleseee

im so wsated

Koo <3 [06.46am]

dont be mad at me jsut pick me up

i dont knw hewere the fuck i am

i love you

Koo <3 [07:31 am]

i got a rde home i’ll be home by 12

i need to talk to someone frsit

im sorry if i woke ypu dont be worried

You took a few moments to collect your thoughts, but there wasn’t much to collect. This whole thing, was a routine by now.

Standing up to make yourself a cup of coffee, you could literally not feel your own backside, you were so sore from the barstool you had been sitting on all night, and it made you groan in pain.

Two coffee cups right beside the kitchen sink, which you couldn’t bring yourself to clean up, because it was from the last time you had coffee together, which was 2 weeks ago.

The inside of the cup had a coffee crust at the top, and both your lip tint marks on the outside.

When you finish your cup of coffee while watching a bad telenovela, you go sit in your favorite chair and pull out a few books from the backpack hanging on the chair next to you, getting ready to get some studying done.

For a few seconds you imagine Jungkook hanging over your shoulder laughing at the way you write your A-s and R-s, or the way you always sign your homework at the bottom of the page.

And when you open them, there’s no one there. The only sound is from the refrigerator, making refrigerator noises.

You had met Jungkook 3 years ago, when you were at college orientation, senior year of high school. He also wanted to attend Yonsei, just like you.

And when he whispered to you about how bored he was, you couldn’t help but giggle, and then you got yelled at.

It was worth it though, because everyone was jealous of you afterwards,the Jeon Jungkook had talked to you.

Jungkook was an all-rounder as they called it; great physique, intelligent, charismatic and great at sports.

And god, he had a beautiful face, and such a filthy mouth, and it didn’t go long before you gave in to his seductive ways and slept with him. The morning after, he wasn’t in bed with you, and your heart sank.

Luckily, he was in the kitchen making you breakfast.

It was all bliss from there, showering you with love, gifts and kisses for two years, and you even ended up moving in together.

And now? You barely remember what he sounds like, smells like and is like.

A distant memory, just as distant as him.

Your train of thought was suddenly interrupted as you heard 3 knocks on your door. The exact same way he had always knocked when he had forgotten (or lost) his keys.

And even though you should have let him suffer a little, you rushed to the door to open it, and in front of you, was your biggest nightmare.

It was your love, crying his eyes out, bleeding from one of many cuts on his face, looking nearly dead. He collapsed into your arms, and you could only utter a few words, along the lines of:

“How could you do this to us?”

As he was laying curled up in a ball on the couch, face plastered up, ice bag on his knee, wrapped up in a blanket, you realized. this was your que to cry.

So, you did. You cried in silence, sitting across the room from him. You weren’t mad at him for coming home late, or getting in another fight, probably the 5th just these past months, you had gotten used to that by now.

There was a whole other reason that made you cry.

He smelled like Victorias Secret Bombshell, you recognized the scent because it used to be your favorite, however, now you’ve moved onto something less sweet, and more elegant, like Caroline Herrera.

He smelled like someone who wasn’t you, his girlfriend.

He smelled like another girl.

It didn’t hurt as much as you thought it would. Maybe because the Jungkook that had come home to you that morning wasn’t your Jungkook.

Your Jungkook was varsity jackets, star of the american football team (which your school was known for), selfless and humorous, and he would always take care of you.

Your Jungkook was not ungroomed hair, cigarettes and worsening grades. He was not cold and lifeless, and he would never make you cry.

Despite this, you were carding your fingers though his hair, thumb wiping away the blood on his lips while he was sound asleep as you slowly fell asleep next to him.

Maybe it was time to let him go.

Maybe.

You woke a few hours later from your phone vibrating.

Kim Namjoon (school) [07:01 pm]

Hey Y/N! Have you started working on the statistics assignment?

If you haven’t, would you be interested in meeting at the library tomorrow? You’re really smart and i’m kinda struggling ://

You [07:03 pm]

i finished it yesterday, but if you buy me coffee i’ll come help you hehe

Kim Namjoon (school) [07:04 pm]

You’re the best, I’ll bring you a machiatto!! :D

Maybe it would be nice for you to get out of the house, even though you hate the thought of it, and you would much rather just swim in your own sorrow.

But you did go out the next day, and you helped Namjoon get a decent grade, enough to pass with good margines, he thanked you by taking you out for ramen at a convenial store not too far away.

You thanked him for the ramen with a trip to the museum, and he thanked you for the museum trip with a picnic in the park at night, which led you to crying over Jungkook in his embrace, telling him every single little detail.

He made you realize it was time to let Jungkook go and make room for new people to enter your life.

You went home that night, and you found Jungkook passed out on the couch, and you could genuienly feel your chest tighten. Soft features which stood out under the moonlight glow, disheveled brown locks which hung down in his eyes.

He was gorgeous, until you saw the credit card on the table next to three bottles of soju and an empty beer can on the floor. And you knew what he had used the credit card for, though you didn’t want to say it out loud.

You cleaned everything up, and you threw the residue of the white powder right in the trash can, and you recycled his bottles and cans before finally, nudging him to wake up.

“Jungkook, wake up.” You spat coldly, or at least you attempted to.

He groaned, rubbing his eyes before opening his eyes, and s huge smile on his face. “Y/N, you’re home!” He reached to kiss you, but you backed away.

“Y/N?” Jungkook questioned, he didn’t quite understand what your intentions were.

“Don’t try anything Jungkook. This was your last chance, and you fucked it up, again.” The room turned ice cold. “I’m getting you help Jungkook, you need help. And then...”

He understood what kind of help you meant, and since he had now sobered up, he agreed, nodding. “And then...?”

“And then.” Your words were ludged in your throat. “And then I’m leaving you.”

His whole face dropped, smile turned into the frowniest frown you had ever seen, and it was all silent before his lower lip starts trembling, and his eyes start turning glassy.

“It’s alright. Sorry for burdening you.” Was all he could say before tears rushed down his cheeks, and he started shaking.

So you did what you always had done, and you wrapped your arms around him, head resting on your chest as he sobbed.

“Is there anyone else?” he cried out before another wave of sobs hit him.

This exact question made your stomach hurt, and your throat burn. You really had no idea.

Or you did, but you didn’t want to.

You loved Jungkook so much, but you couldn’t be with him in this state. So you did what every rational person would do in this situation.

“Yeah.”

You lied.

“Oh ok. I don’t have the right to be mad do I?”

You shake your head no.

“I love you Y/N. I’m sorry I’m so messed up.”

“It’s ok.” was all he said before he fell asleep in your arms again.

That night you slither your way out of his embrace and you pack your suitcase in the dark, bringing all your essentials, trying to be as quiet as possible so you didn’t wake Jungkook.

Packing enough for two weeks or so, you make the bed and leave your t-shirt “accidentally” in the bathroom, and you make sure all his clothes are folded, and then you sort his pencil case, throwing out old pens and worn out erasers.

You leave a grocery list on the counter, and you tuck him in good under the blankets after you took his jeans and socks off so he could sleep comfortably.

You placed his vitamins and medicine by the refrigerator so he’ll see it when he goes to grab something to eat.

Puffed up pillows, a pair of sweatpants, t-shirt and underwear is now placed neatly on his bed. Then you walk into the kitchen again, and you see Jungkook still sound asleep, sniffling a little still.

There’s one last thing, and it makes you cry. It makes you sob so loud you cover your mouth and muffle the sound you make. Sinking to the floor, your whole body is in contact with the cold tiles.

Only a year ago you could never imagine yourself even shedding a single tear over something as small as this, but here you were, on the edge of a panic attack.

Two worn out, matching couple mugs still placed by the counter. one if the first things you two had bought together, as well as the necklace hanging around your neck.

Finally, you stopped crying and started cleaning the mugs, lip trembling as you dried them and placed them in the back of the cabinet.

You unhooked your necklace and laid it down on the counter, and the biggest lump formed in your throat.

Actually, there’s a little detail you forget.

You kiss Jungkook on the forehead and leave a note on the coffee table.

“Dear Jungkook,

If you want to make this up to me (this does not mean a new chance!!) you call the number at the bottom of the page. No matter what happens, I’ll always have room for you in my heart. You even have your own little VIP lobby in there. And - if it’s urgent, call. I still care for you, and I always have. You were the best boyfriend I’ve had, but good things always come to and end, don’t they? Anyways, I’m tired so this letter fucking sucks, but deep down you know how much I love you. Remember to get groceries, shower, get fresh air and study. If I forgot something you can keep it, as long as you call the number and tell them you’re my friend. They’ll help you love. Try and get a part time job too, your student loan and your dad’s money won’t last forever. Good luck Koo. Hwaiting!!

-L/N Y/N <33″

You cringe when you think of the letter’s contents, before you roll out your suitcase out of the front door, whispering a faint “Goodnight Love.” as you close and lock the door behind you.

Standing by the elevator, you cry again. This time, louder, but you still reach for your phone and type out a text to the newly edited contact in your phone.

You [02:13 am]

coming outside now, im a crying mess and im super cold, is your car heated?

sorry for making you wait btw :((

Joonie <3 [02:13 am]

dont worry about the crying part, i’ll hold you. and yeah car is heated, so waiting here wasnt all that bad. you ready for this?

You [02:14 am]

i have no idea but i cant stay here any longer and i trust you sooo

lets start our new chapter. eh?

4 months later...

He had been good to you, great even.

You had been on expensive dates, picnics, had heart to heart conversations, and he’d been so understanding.

Today, it was your 2 month anniversary, and he had asked you on a magnificent date, which he had planned every second of.

At the end of the day, you told him how you don’t love him. He said it was alright. Namjoon loved you, so much, yet he understood you needed time.

You went to sleep that day, warm in Namjoon’s embrace, wondering how Jungkook was doing.

You felt bad, but you missed Jungkook.

You were both with someone new now, and you knew he was in good hands with someone stable enough to care for him.

Before your eyes closed shut, you shed a few quiet tears and hoped that you’d fall in love with Namjoon soon, and deep down you knew you would.

#jungkook x reader #jungkook angst #namjoon smut #jungkook ff #bts ff #bts imagines #bts scenarios #namjoon ff #bangtan smut #jungkook #jeon jeongguk #jeongguk ff

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thefanficmonster · 4 years ago

Text

The Five Scares (and one revenge)

Corpse Husband x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: FLUFF, Humor, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Having a tendency to scare people, Corpse has gotten used to his friends being jumpy whenever he appears from the void into a Discord call with them. However, the one who has it the roughest with the spooks has to be his partner Y/N. Basically: The five times Corpse scared Y/N and the one time they scared him

Requested by Anon. Hi darling! Thank you so much for your lovely request it was a real joy to write and I had a ton of fun doing so! Hope you have equally as wonderful of a time if you happen to come across it and give it a read despite the long wait you’ve had to endure which I apologize for. Love, Vy ❤

Having had to go home for the night to keep an eye on their roommate’s dog, Y/N and Corpse agreed to have a video call before they fell asleep. They didn’t want to appear like that typical clingy and cheesy couple but after spending almost a whole week curled up in Corpse’s apartment, the two would feel each other’s absence to a very saddening degree to the point where they’d even forget the other isn’t around and would call out to them.

Letting the call ring, Y/N’s hand comes up to smooth out their hair. However, the touch reveals to them that their hair needs a bit more than a simple tap or a pat to be tamed so while they wait for Corpse to answer the call, they quickly head to their bathroom. Flicking the light on, their reflection greets them with the underwhelming news of the actual state of their hair at the moment: an absolute mess. They proceed to do their best with the single hair-tie they have handy. A bobby pin or two would be neat but they have no time to go and grab one right now, seeing as how they can’t recall if they even brought them back from Corpse’s apartment. If they didn’t, they would have to search their roommate’s room for some which would take an even longer amount of time.

Eventually, they manage to tame it in something closely resembling a presentable ponytail and exit the bathroom feeling more exhausted than before. With a loud sigh, they crash onto their bed, face-first into the sea of pillows, groaning at the slight sting of their muscles relaxing at last.

“Y/N?“ The decently loud mention of their name by a deep, familiar yet sudden and unexpected voice startles them to the point of squealing and jumping an entire inch away from where they were positioned.

They look around their room in a frenzy, wondering where on Earth that voice came from and how it could be here with them right now.

“Y/N, you there?”, before they could locate it, it emerges once again, helping Y/N get an ide of where it’s coming from - somewhere in the messed up bed sheets.

“Corpse?“ They finally find their voice, “Y-yeah I’m here. Question is: how are you...“ and then it all clicks, causing them to twist their face in an expression of utter disappointment and bury it in the palms of their hands, groaning.

“You forgot about the video chat, didn’t you?“ Corpse asks, amusement not even attempted to be hidden in his voice.

“Yup.“

It’s been one hell of a day. Y/N’s college lectures exhausted them to a max and their six hour job following their classes did nothing to help them AT ALL. Quite the opposite actually. Makes sense why they look, move and talk the way they’re doing right now: like a ghost, zombie and an elder combined in one. To add to their misfortunes for the day, they were met with the mocking ‘OUT OF ORDER’ sign taped to the doors of the elevator, laughing in their face with the information that their hellish experience for the day is far from over.

Just the thought of having to climb to the fifth floor made their stomach turn in the most unpleasant way possible, but the though of how long that would take made matters even worse. Arriving at their designated apartment, they have every right to be pissed, cussing their heart out.

However, then comes a new problem: the inability to pinpoint the correct key. They proceed to curse themselves, the keys, the door handle and the door itself before punching the poor wood that did no wrong and just stands here, serving its purpose of keeping unwanted people out of the apartment it’s guarding.

Following their anger outburst and front-door-abuse, they proceed to try finding the correct key once again, this time slightly more calmly as to not accidentally miss it in their frantic rifling.

Right as they’re about to try the third key, however, the door opens. Well, it’s opened by someone on the other side, that someone being none other than their boyfriend Corpse who’s currently staring at them wide-eyed, one eyebrow raised, the word ‘confused’ basically written across his face.

While he’s processing the sight in front of him, Y/N lets out a little scream, jumping back and away from the door, a hand placed over their chest as their wide eyes scan their boyfriend who now seems equally terrified as a result of their reaction.

“Corpse?!“ They manage to gasp, barely hearing their own voice over the loud thumping of their heart and the rush of blood in their ears, “What the hell are you doing here?!“

The confusion on Corpse’s face deepens, reaching whole new levels as his eyes gaze deeper into theirs, searching for the meaning behind their bizarre question. “You mean...at my own apartment? What am I doing, at home?“

For a few seconds, the two just stare blankly at one another, processing everything that’s just happened. Suddenly, it all just kinda caves for Y/N and they burst out laughing, doubling over, their arms clutching at their stomach as they do so. Their laughter is contagious, so Corpse can’t help but let out a few chuckles himself.

“Alright, you’ve been driven to insanity, I can tell.“ He mumbles at his reckless partner, coming up behind them and wraps his arms around them, lifting them up and carrying their laughing ass inside.

III

Finally deciding to sit down and get this damn project started, Y/N already feels like they’ve had enough of it, burnout already creeping in and threatening to ruin their work and trip them up every step of the way. It wouldn’t have been so bad had the subject not been one they absolutely despise and wish they could get out of studying but alas they’re stuck with it.

They equip their headphones as soon as they plant their butt on the desk chair in their tiny room in their tiny roommate-shared apartment, putting their Spotify playlist on shuffle as they open a blank Power Point document. They work better with music blasting in their ears since the silence tends to be too loud and distracting when they’re trying to focus. So, that way they can also sing their heart out in peace and not get disturbed by the sound of their own off-key singing. Win-win, basically.

Singing ‘Never Forget You’ by Zara Larsson and MNEK, they get a little carried away, ditching the project to enter a full-blown music video they can imagine down to the detail in their mind.

However, there’s a surprise awaiting them.

As soon as MNEK’s part of the song begins, another voice apart from his echoes through their headphones, singing along to the song. Freaking the fuck out, they let out a loud scream, smacking the headset off them, sending the object falling and landing on their laptop keyboard with a crash that only serves to further startle their roommate’s dog which comes to check if they are being attacked or something only to be disappointed by the lack of action.

When pushing the headphones off, they did so with a force strong enough to snap the cable out of the laptop entirely so now the room is filled with the sound of that same foreign voice laughing his ass off.

A voice that belongs to no other than Corpse Husband himself.

“You gotta learn to disconnect from Discord calls, Y/N.“ The fucker says, still cackling wholeheartedly at his partner’s misery.

Pissed off or not, Y/N would have to admit he’s got a point. But they’d also rather never speak again than admit it so...

“Fuck you!“ is what they say instead, seconds before disconnecting.

Making breakfast is not something either Corpse or Y/N are used to, mostly cause they both either wake up late or skip the meal entirely. Regardless, having been given a day off from work and having no classes since it’s Saturday, Y/N saw no better way to start their day off than to prepare a nice breakfast for them and their boyfriend to enjoy. Problem is: they aren’t the most skilled in the kitchen. Sure they can scramble an egg or make mac and cheese, but in order to do it correctly they are not allowed to have distractions of any kind. Not even music, that’s how you know it’s serious.

Seeing as how Corpse has never seen them cook, he’s obviously unaware of theirs. The dummy straight up waltzes into the kitchen, unintentionally remaining unspotted and unheard by Y/N because he’s barefoot and because they have their back turned to him.

“Whatya cooking over there babe?“

Y/N’s focus bubble, being as thin as it is and considering they initially thought Corpse was still asleep, they have every right to let out the yelp they just did, dropping the egg they were gonna crack over the pan in said pan in its entirety - yes, shell and all.

A moment of silence commences: regretful on Corpse’s end and frustrated on theirs. Neither of them dares to say anything to avoid triggering the other. Well, that’s the case until Y/N decides enough’s enough and they turn to look at him, a wide, obviously fake smile plastered onto their face.

“Scrambled eggs, following a secret recipe, property of the L/N family.“

Seems like your pre-breakfast snack is an extra large dose of sarcasm, huh?

“So, how was your day? You sound pretty chipper so I take it wasn’t a nightmare like a few days ago.“ Corpse comments over the phone, listening to shuffling and shifting as Y/N moves around the apartment, getting ready to head out.

“It was great actually. Got some important results back and, not to brag or anything, but they were higher than I expected.“ They reply, a genuine wide grin refusing to leave their face as they silently count the amount of money they’ve got in their wallet. “I’m gonna go buy a cake so we can celebrate it. It’s no small deal, trust me, especially not when I initially thought I’d fail both these exams to the point of being pitied.“

“Wait...-“ Corpse attempts, his voice suddenly sounding strained and urgent but that’s the very reason he cannot seem to find or get the right words out of his system. Not that Y/N gives him any time to figure it out.

“No Corpse, you cannot change my mind. Cake and beers, we’re celebrating toni- SHIT!“ They scream as they throw open the front door, bumping square into someone standing on the other side, almost dropping their phone.

Taken aback by embarrassment and fear, they leap back, their eyes searching for the ones of the person whose personal space they just invaded. Well, to be fair, he was the one invading their personal space by standing right outside the door to their - well, to Corpse’s apartment.

The fear and irritation die down almost instantly when Y/N recognizes the person standing opposite them.

“Mind telling me why we’re talking on the phone when you could’ve come in and we could’ve had a normal person conversation?!“ They snap, ironically enough - they’re still holding the phone to their ear.

So is Corpse whos is smiling guiltily, “That’s why I called, I forgot my keys, but I got...carried...sorry.”

Well, at least this serves as proof Y/N’s not the only forgetful one.

~ ~ ~

Corpse has been stuck in his recording room for four hours now, never stopping his stream to take care of his basic human needs such as eating or going to the bathroom. This behavior of his has Y/N worried sick and unable to focus on the task at hand - an assignment they’ve been trying to finish for two hours now, sitting with their computer on their lap and looking hopelessly at the blank Word document waiting for them to fill it up while they are waiting for it to start writing itself.

Seeing as how neither are gonna happen, not until Y/N puts their mind at ease, they slowly put the laptop aside, standing up to carefully skip on over to Corpse’s recording room to check on him, stopping by the kitchen to grab him a snack and a bottle of water along the way.

The door to the darkened room is open a crack, as usual, suggesting they can enter without knocking - this also means he’ll probably not hear them even if they knock so the whole gesture would be pointless. Not that Y/N has a tendency to knock or anything... Waltzing in, they find that the only light in the room is the very faint and dark glow of the computer screen which is displaying a dark and dingy room from a first-person view of the protagonist of whatever game Corpse’s currently playing.

“Corpse?!“ They whisper-yell/hiss at him, trying their best to grasp his attention without startling him - they don’t need to be told that the game is of the horror genre and the last thing they need is for their boyfriend to flip backwards and fall out of his chair because they scared the shit out of him. “Hey?!“

Neither attempts prove futile so, despite their best instincts telling them differently, they walk over to him and tap him on the shoulder. The reaction, while within the realm of expectancy, is a lot more startled than they expected, accompanied by a scream on top of all. They’d never heard him scream in fear before, it’s quite amusing if they’re being honest.

They suppress a snicker as Corpse’s wide open eyes meet their squinting ones in the darkness, “Y/N...babe...what is it? Is everything ok?”

Y/N rolls their eyes, “No, everything isn’t ok. Your unhealthy habit of forgetting to take care of yourself, for example.” They put the snack and the bottle on the his desk, giving him their best disappointed-parent look before turning on their heel to strut their way out of the room. However, just as they are about to make their exit, they stop right at the doorframe, giving their stunned one final glance over their shoulder with a smug smirk playing across their face, “Oh and by the way, that’s what I like to call revenge.” Just like that, they leave, pushing the door back into its previous position.

And boy, is it some sweet, sweet revenge.

@maat-the-prescriptive @simonsbluee @save-the-sky @itsminniekat @hacker-ghost @bi-andready-tocry @imtiredaffff @jazzkaurtheglorious @hereforbeebo @fandomgirl17 @chrysanthykios @maehemscorpyus @loraleiix @letsloveimagines @annshit @i-cant-choose-a-username-help @enigmaticmaze @divine-artemis @waterlilypat @idontknowwhatthisisfam @evi-ka @classyandfabulous00 @redperson58 @lilysdaydreams @solowheein @mythicalamphitrite @axen-gers @luckygirl144 @nj01 @buddyemily @the-albino-lioness @stardream14 @gdhdkfnn @nomadicgypsyy @preciousskye @fluffysuicideunicornsworld @o-kaelin @manacharlotte @awkward-youtube-trash @lolalee24 @bonky-beerns @meme-lord-and-savior-sebastian @strawbrinkofdeath @teenloves @tams0527 @browneyespinkhair @starstruckllamapuppy @daisychains012 @y0ulooked @tinytacosuitcaseflap @supernatural-is-my-only-life @jula-pauline @melodykitty @just-that-bi-girl @crazybutconfidentaf @lowellshade @alphakees @bellero @weallneednamjesus @starryhanji @boiled-onionrings @husherstan @fockingwhore @melaningoddessthings @prettypastelpetals @haleypearce @godwhyamiawkward @y-napotat @daisychainyoonmin @little-miss-rebel3 @free-wheelin-bi-sexual @redmoon261 @darkacademic2 @wiseflamingoqueen @into-the-end @namikhai-i @nastiablr @thelittleplantlover @mirktuan @dont-hyuck @jjk-bunny @vintagegothlover @easygoingtheatre @itsrandombooklover @miiaivi @emmybaybee @befourgolden @jjk-is-my-shit @eternalteaaars @spacebadgerx @princesslunalight @acequinn14 @samm48 @misselsbells06 @simp-lykawa @fo-love @marishimomura-blog @therealglenncoco @cinnamonbun332 @killtherandomness @sanshinexxxsan @fee-btheweeb @press-lay @cathleenpotgieter16 @jazzydoesstuff @moonlxghtbay @forestrain2000 @hyunjinhugs @blood-of-fandoms @lovellylies @ukiyolixx @simpforhpcharacters @chrisdylan17 @parkerjisung @pedernille @theodonyous @wineandionysus @malfoystilinskii05 @morbid-x @coryisagee @jessewa26 @scoobydooluver97 @mindintheskies365 @raeanneinwonderland @indecisive-empanada @gluttonypalace @loriane2503 @btsiguess-kpop @khaoticbunny @lucidlycactus @smiithys @rottenroyalebooks @kpopgirlbtssvt @fangirl-tc27 @fr0z3n-1 @notmesimpingfortechno @shotarosleftpinky @kunoi-chan @idk-whats-wrong-with-me @yikeroonie @goldenstarofthunderclan @poetry-and-tea @ama-do-writing-stuff @wishbonewolf @emeraldxhope @t0xick1tty @kusuinko @speakyourselfloveyourself @sophia902103 @lo-manburg @classsykittykat @dmgama @depressedpuppythatneedscoffee @btsiguess-kpop @akaashi-baby @gun-jong-simp @geschichtenfee @yerapotato-wp @browneyedgirl365 @thysagclub @sparklycloudnight @helloatomicshadow @queentorresstuff @vtte @val-gal @lucy-bunny17 @aaliyahh0 @katluckybear @boyleanti @straybids @franchesca-791 @cosmicstorm19 @averyisbackinthetrashcan @aomi-nabi @xlanawriter @allensimpsforcorpse

318 notes · View notes

youranxiousnerd · 4 years ago

Text

The Transformation Thoughts

bc hsmtmts said gay rights

spoilers below

yesss seb doing the recap

wait did seb just say he was crying?!?! give him a hug

cow baby!!!

wow miss jenn and seb having a civil conversation

Natalie is back!!

ej and ricky with the mask

kourtney’s outfit!!!

ashlyn’s outfit...

ahh so the awards and the show are separate, good, that’s how it works

RICKY’S SHIRT!?!?!?!

i love it

ricky is lgbt do not try to convince me otherwise

ASHLYN IS SINGING IT IS BEAUTIFUL

like pop off

ricky and the mask

that mask is the true villain in season 2

“Belle, I-” flops

Ashlyn is carrying the scene, she is such a good Belle

how is ricky allowed on stage oh my god

the cap

that damn mask

“It’s okay, it was just my face”

Miss Jenn is hanging on by a thread

finally some ashlyn and ricky content

“Which they will” buddy have you faced the music? Have you seen Ricky?

“I think I might have been playing Troy at one point”

Miss Jenn needs help from someone who isn’t a teenager

“Mother is freaking out” High school theater at it’s finest

“There is math involved”

“OH”

sassy seb

i can’t with east high’s tech crew, what are you doing?!?!

and why are the actors figuring out the tech stuff?!? i’m sure kourt, big red, ashlyn (she knows all), and seb (he lives on a farm) know what to do.

the crew cannot be that bad

btw here are my thoughts on this scene

guys it is ashlyn’s house not yours

portwell shoulder bump

ASHLYN I LOVE YOU

OH SO NOW YOU HAVE DRILLS

WHERE WERE THEY WHEN THE TECHIES STARTED USING GLUE ON PLYWOOD!?!?!?!

I WANT ANSWERS

i. cannot. with. this. show.

lily wtf

“is this too weird” yes

like why?

lily like actually shut up

big red’s “wtf”

let her be evil damnit

“i’m just not well liked here” i wonder why

that was really weird, anyways

“he gets weird around tools”

me too

no give big red the drill he knows how to use it

someone write a fic about the girls and seb’s chaotic target run

why don’t you have a blackout and dramatic music and lights for the transformation, i know it isn’t award level but if done right it can be pretty dope

“I don’t know if my parents will be okay with me being at a co-ed sleepover”

“Chip, this is your mother speaking, go call your mother”

HE DID THE FINGER GUNS

GAY TABLE SIT AND FINGER GUNS THEY DID THEIR RESEARCH

ashlyn’s bucket

CARLOS GAY TABLE SIT

OH MY GOD

they’re so gay soulmates

let big red have his skateboards

“i need to talk to seb at some point but it can wait” honey no it can’t wait seb is on the verge of a breakdown

wait they havent talked in a week

Im a hypocrite ive been dancing around someone for three years

“You’re still at school”

“I’m worried about my children” “She means us”

such a high school theater thing (like i got married during high school theater, we had a family tree)

“ah, Sebby”

“Now I’m pretty sad” give him a hug

the girls ship seblos

“But, I guess he has to be, out of default, right... there’s not a lot of choices for a boy like Carlos, here, at East.”

alright here come the tears

why...why couldn’t he say “gay” or “queer” or “lgbt”?!?!

“Not so good at saying the feelings part out loud”

shiz that hit close to home.

Seb is just making me cry today, isn’t he?

wait so we’re just going to change the subject? coming from a queer person, opening up about your problems about your sexuality is hard. like, there are things that happened years ago im just telling people.

“You’re my sister, he’s my cousin”

it seems everyone except nina knows about the chocolates. imagine gossip time when gina told people write a fic

Nini just stop talking. It wasn’t a big deal, simple mistake. Not everything has to be big and dramatic

and wasn’t she just asking about Gina and Ej?

Nini for the love of god it is not something to read into.

“The farmer type”

Ash and Red exchanging gossip

wait... why are they texting about this?

“Why wouldn’t he say something to me?” It’s a hard conversation to have. “hey are we together just because i’m your only option?”

“Okay, pretty boy” HE CALLED HIM PRETTY BOY

RICKY!!!!!!!!!!

!!!

carlos and gina chaotic siblings

give ej a hug

“Sweet boy”

im so glad the guys are talking about their feelings.

Why a sleepover? It’s more of a hangout.

“Verging on failure”

jennzara therapy

slowwww burn

you go from hand holding to fist bump

disney please release an acoustic version of “let you go”

so it’s just carlos and ricky chillin’ at big red’s house?

do not play let you go for nini

do. not.

“You guys are a hallmark movie”

for once ricky is being smart

“the look on your face when you were talking about Seb tonight” smiles

he is so whipped

“I think you and Seb have something worth fighting for...bro”

that was so sweet and then there is bro

i love this show

“Sorry, I’m adjusting to being called bro”

him and seb being awkward about feelings... that is a high school relationship

i love ricky in this scene

“Yeah, let’s just write”

ASHLYN CALLED BIG RED BABE AWWWWW

nina shut the actual hell up

“It’s in the costume shop, somewhere” mood

“Thank you, 15″ THEY SAID THE THING

GAHHHH

I LOVE IT

howie and kourtney oh my god what is happening

“and begging”

“hi” he’s so nervous oh my lord.

he is so awkward around seb

it’s like a switch

“Do you want to get risotto with me sometime” OH MY GOD THATS ADORABLE

GINA BABY HE LIKES YOU

GINA HONEY!!!

AWWW THAT WAS ADORABLE

PORTWELL YESSSS

gina’s little run

“Am I in trouble?”

they’re so nervous

oh my god its time

“You keep it all bottled up” GUYS I CANT ARGGGG

can ricky just like, go behind a curtain?

“lookin’ for our kind of love” carlos basically just said “i love you”

seb is so whipped like look at him?

they’re so in love

seb’s little eye role at “in a heartbeat, i choose you”

the hands omfg

oh my god they’re going to dance

SHIZ THE HOMECOMING SUITS

I WAS RIGHT

OH MY GOD

SHIT GUYS IM DYING

gah the hands i cant

carlos is leading i love it

the tie

a tie just killed me

im combusting

You’re honor, they’re in love

i really thought carlos was going in for a kiss he is probably getting one later

i like how the dance isn’t big, it’s small and a little awkward bc right then it’s just them.

THEYRE SO IN LOVE HOLY SHIT

damnit big red

big red is legally required to interrupt almost kiss moments especially if it’s an lgbt kiss bc we cant have two in one season

in a heartbeat is so cute. Frankie showed UP this season with the vocals. there is no way that was all acting bc they looked so in love.

I...I love it

the lyrics are perfect

In a Heartbeat and Let You Go are probably the best OG songs of the season

“Siri, add In a Heartbeat to my gay sob playlist”

these boys are just serenading each other left and right

“Yeah”

so it’s just “yeah”!?!? That’s it!?!?! Seb could have least kissed him on the cheek or did they use all their kisses?

I love the song and love the scene, but there is so much more to discuss. Are we going to brush over the fact that Seb literally had an allergic reaction and didn’t get help because he didn’t want to disappoint Carlos!?!? Are we going to brush over “no, seb” and seb feeling like he has to get carlos big things!?! One “yeah” doesn’t erase all that. I’m hoping we get closure, proper closure, not a joke.

In conclusion, only one thing was settled (Carlos loves Seb for Seb, not because he is the only out guy in school).

“Seb and Carlos suffer their first fight” effing liars

BTW it looks like they filmed the dance scene with the homecoming suits and normal outfits so disney release the footage

Ricky is the biggest Seblos shipper

“Bro”

you morons. are you using rigging without an adult there?!?!

im pretty sure that isn’t allowed. only trained people were allowed to use the rigging. it should be Natalie since she did it in HSM

you should have gotten mats are something or stand in a circle

gahhh

RICKY

OH MY FRICKING GOD

NO ONE RAN THEY JUST WATCHED WTF

WTF WAS THAT ENDING

UMMMMM NO

i legit have no words oh my god

they just killed the lead

you guys saw the rope you should have ran

you should have gotten mats or blankets or something just in case

rigging is difficult, set rigging and people rigging

EAST HIGH WTF

Looks like the sleepover is going to be in the ER

My gay heart is full but my theater heart is screaming. The episode went by really fast. I liked it, like a lot.

To answer the question, no, I am not okay @organic-guacamole and we will have a theater kid sleepover

69 notes · View notes

bibliocratic · 4 years ago

Note

I come bearing a sort-of fic idea! (Only if you feel inspired to use it, of course 😊) Back in ep 101, Martin figures out that/where the Stranger has taken Jon, and goes all BAMF to save him, using either Web powers or his developing Backup Archivist powers to do it. (Dealer's choice) Some of that sweet sweet emotional h/c...

Dearest anon, this fic has been so long in the writing, and it’s only distantly related to what you asked for. Hope you like it regardless. :)

Set in an S3 AU, implied JonMartin. Tim-centric.

Content warnings for strongly implied graphic violence, canonical S3 captivity and imprisonment, hospitals and hospitalisation. Rated T for language and implied violence

Jon’s skittering, sprawl-legged slam against the archive door startles Tim from the shadowed walkways of his reveries.

The tilted legs of his chair thump back in a slap to the floor. Almost physically wrenched into the now, there’s a snapback to Tim’s spine, a vice-clench knot tightening in his jaw. His mood cranking up from frosty to furious.

“The fuck?” he barks at the intrusion. His snarling primed with teeth, his temper clawed to rend. He’s up and standing, whereas Jon’s practically handing off the door handle, the impact of his arrival almost knocking his legs out like ten pins from under him. An ugly, airless heaving of his chest. His eyes bloodshot, wild. In the weeks since Tim saw him, his hair has grown out unwashed and limp. His skin shimmering wrong in the light in a way that’s oddly greasy.

He’s a shattering mannequin of a man tending to ruin but Tim’s long pared down his own capacity for compassion. He loads up his questions in their chambers, and he knows where to place emphasis, where to press at the bruising, the soft-tissue targets; where the hell have you been, oh wait, don’t fucking bother, why would you even tell us anything anyway huh, because you don’t even trust us. So why the bloody hell should we care where you go galivanting off to for weeks without a word, fine by us, just fucking peachy.

“Martin,” Jon rasps out finally. His words floundering beached in his mouth, and Tim has never seen this particular mania, this bruise-sick shade of pathetic desperation. “T-tim, please, help, please, god, i-i-it’s Martin.”

Jon’s spasming, quivering hands are staining brown with blood.

“He wouldn’t have just left! Not – not like – like this!”

“You mean without saying anything. Not sharing with the class. I dunno, Martin, sounds exactly like something he’d have done. Classic Jon.”

“I’m telling you, something’s wrong!”

“Ha – everything’s wrong. Narrow it down.”

“You know what I mean! Something’s… He should be here, is all I’m saying, and Elias, well he’s useless but he – he knows something, I’m sure of it. We have to do something.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know! Find him!”

“Maybe he doesn’t want to be found. Huh, what about that? Maybe he’s finally managed to fuck off and leave here, legged it and left the rest of us to rot.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“I do.”

“We should – ”

“No. No, listen, Martin. This isn’t a team sport. Jon made his choice to go this alone. If he’s gone off somewhere, then that’s on him. There’s no ‘we’.”

“There used to be.”

Martin didn’t come in for work, and Tim assumed he’d left. Just like Jon.

He’d stewed in that betrayal, pacing lupine and furious, bricking up the walls of himself with his self-righteous anger. Because he’d been right, hadn’t he, he’d been vindicated in his bitterness, because of course Martin had left scurrying after Jon, of course there was never any loyalty to Tim despite his pretensions to their friendship. Of course, Martin hadn’t fucking stayed, and Tim was glad he was gone, free of his nagging and needling and whining.

Tim was acquitted in all his furies, every one of his poisonous doubts. The rose-thorns of his betrayals tore deeper, and he let the wounds fester.

Elias arrives in the aftermath.

Jon collapsed not too long ago. Shock and dehydration and whatever the hell happened to him threaded through him like blood poisoning. He’d babbled to the ambulance crews, his tongue a senseless oracle of clowns and skin and blood. They’d given him a shock blanket, the foil treating the light around them erratically, but he kept shaking it off and trying to stand, dressed in grubby boxers, an overlong coat, the fabric worn to grey at the pockets and stretched to billowing at the chest, clearly belonging to Martin.

It was hard for Tim to hate him like that, even as he’d barked at Jon to stay down. Jon’s face a theatre mask of ghoulish blood, begging the paramedics to help Martin, manic and spiralling.

The old bastard had had a heart after all.

There’s a bank of chairs outside the part of the ward where they’re keeping Jon. He’s pin-cushioned with IV’s, a set of machines monitoring his vitals. He wakes fitfully, and every waking is a pitiful confusion before he sinks back under.

Martin’s still in surgery.

Elias, deigning to leave his ivory tower, his face formed in an impeccable replica of concern. He wants to speak to Jon. To have, as he put it, ‘a private word’. He talks a precisely ordered stream of bullshit in his infuriatingly reasonable tone, about all this being such a terrible tragedy, such a blow to their little family, if only they’d known. Poor Martin, of course, what a horrible ordeal, we’ll naturally help him with recovery, cover any time off, no expense considered.

Tim watches his mouth move, and knows in his gut that Elias could have stopped all this.

That he chose not to.

Elias doesn’t get within a hundred feet of Jon. Tim makes sure of it.

Jon does not speak for days. Delirious and distraught. Martin’s condition worsens, then stabilises, then lingers at critical. There are several more operations, and Tim does not know what they are doing, only that they are reforming a heap of blood and bone back into a person.

Tim wants to know what happened. Where Jon went, where Martin found him, who he needs to hate.

Tim learns to temper his frustration, the desire for knowing that curls at the bottom of his stomach. It is not a natural wanting, and it’s a spiteful, gleeful action, to deny that rot within him.

“Tim?”

“Stay still, boss,” Tim says. “You’ll pull everything out.”

Jon doesn’t say anything more for a long while. Tim shifts uneasy on the chair provided, thinking, hoping that Jon might have sunk back into sleep, when:

“Martin? Is he…?”

Jon turns his head to look at him. His eyes wide, beseeching, wet with fear. Wanting Tim to make this all ok.

Jon’s eyes in this light are a lot like Danny’s. Tim sucks back a hard breath, and doesn’t meet his gaze, and he knows that only distresses Jon further, who will take the avoidance as a death knell, as a punishment he is expecting to have earned.

“He’s alive, boss,” Tim says eventually. The words hard won. “He’s… he’ll be alright.”

That could be a lie. He doesn’t know much these days.

“Th-there was a room,” Jon stammers one day. He’s sat up, pillows stuffed behind his back. Tim’s bought him an apple juice carton like you buy for children, and he hasn’t touched it, even to push the plastic straw through the top.

His fingers at his lap twist, twist, twist.

“It must have been a … a factory floor, or something. One of those old textile mills or something, up near Manchester. It used to have those big machines for spinning cotton, there were big, discoloured spaces on the boards where they would have sat. There were columns, load-bearing, every fifty feet or so, and t-the chair that they – they had me tied to was anchored against one of those s-so it didn’t – so I couldn’t move it, or knock it over. I-I don’t know how long I was… I.” Jon stops, out of breath. “I don’t even know the date.”

Tim tells him. Jon blinks, and murmurs ‘oh’ like it’s not what he was expecting. His hands are shaking. Tim should reach out, shouldn’t he, it should not be this difficult to provide comfort.

His hands have forgotten how easily reassurance used to come to him.

“Th-they didn’t, they didn’t hurt me. Not, well, not exactly, I-I-I mean, it wasn’t – they wanted me unharmed.” Jon’s voice has crept small and crouched, words tuck under his tongue. “They were waiting. For the right time. They were going to t-take my, um, my skin. For their – for the ritual.”

“Christ.” Tim hisses out, because that is fucked, this whole thing is fucked. How the hell is this the way their lives have turned.

Only Jon’s fingers, his restless hands make noise for the next minute.

“I don’t know how Martin found me,” Jon says.

Tim has a creeping suspicion. It’s the same thing that helps Tim spits out exactly the right seeds to allow hurt to take root. What told Martin that there was something wrong. He could call it intuition, but that’s not how their world works.

Gifts, of a sort. For their faithful service at the temple of their all-seeing god.

“He tried to get me out. Snuck in somehow, cut the ropes with this – huh, this battered old kitchen knife. But I couldn’t… they’d had me tied to the chair for so long that standing up was… I couldn’t walk, and it’s my fault, he was half-carrying me but – I slowed him down, a-and then Nikola came back. And I couldn’t do, I couldn’t do anything, there’s never anything I can do, and they pulled me away and I. I tried, Tim, I-I tried, and I wasn’t… please, Tim, you’ve got to believe I tried to stop them.”

Jon’s fingers are moving to fist in his hair, yanking, tugging, his spine moving to fold himself over.

“Stop,” Tim says sharply. Trying to loosen Jon’s clenched hold.

“I tried, I tried – everything, I offered them anything they wanted, and they just kept – I-I-I tried, Tim.”

“I know,” Tim replies. Quieter. Softer. Separating Jon’s hands from his hair, pressing them back down to his lap, his burnt one held over the other pocked with worm scars. Tim doesn’t move his own away from the fragile tower they’ve made. “I – I know, Jon.”

“Martin – there was more of them. It was easy for them, to hurt him until he stopped struggling. They didn’t tie him up, they knew they didn’t need to. A-and Nikola, she was… she s-s-smiled as they pushed him over onto his back. She – she kept smiling. And she said they didn’t need the two of us. That they could have a bit of fun, a bit of – ” Jon’s voice chokes horrified. “A bit of practise. And wouldn’t I like that. To watch. To give the Eye something to look at.”

Jon crumples into tears then. In on himself like a disintegrating star. Tim feels cold and distant for a moment as he watches this shipwreck as though through the porthole of another boat. Listening to Jon’s hitching sobbing from elsewhere.

The rage is burning off him to reveal something plain and hideous in its humanity, and Tim hates it.

Jon falls apart, and Tim stays.

“You know your Archivist killed them all? He’s got a bit of a temper on him after all. Must be all that repression.”

The newest form of the Distortion still smiles like a headache. Her fingers curve corkscrewing. Tim, who is trying to get a Snickers from the vending machine two wards along from Jon, whips his head around to glower at the unwelcome visitor.

“What do you want?”

The Distortion, who has previously called themselves Michael, and is now still Michael but not entirely, whose face has refracted into a different form – there’s been a sort of change in management, if you like, except, well, that’s not really it at all, but do feel free to call me Helen.

“I was hoping for a teeny bit of gratitude. I was the gallant rescue, after that assistant of yours blundered in and made such a pig’s ear of it.”

Tim snarls. The Distortion’s expression wavers displeased.

“Ooh, touchy, alright. Calm down, firecracker. I bought them both back breathing for you. Your Archivist would be still strapped to a chair in Stockport if it wasn’t for me, to say nothing of that woebegone assistant. Blood all over my carpets.”

Tim ignores her. The glint in her eyes suggests she’s disappointed not to have riled him up.

“What now then?”

“Well, you won’t have to worry about the Circus for a while! Dear Jonathan’s seen to that quite splendidly. Knew he had it in him. Although, I suspect, even he didn’t know he could. The Circus was always good at pushing too far.”

“And you. What about you?”

The Distortion’s smile reflects a hundred alternatives.

“Oh, I’m just waiting to see what happens next.”

Tim’s thoughts have been straying to Danny a lot. Naturally, all things considered, his trauma’s head reared high and made horrifically manifest.

Jon is not like Danny was, too stiff and self-conscious in his own bones. But Danny’s skin had been lit up with that same live-wire intensity that last night, smeared in shadows and exhaustion and tears that shone foreign on his cheeks. Tim had not recognised the crying, silent, shaking stranger in his room, just as he barely recognises Jon.

Watching him finally fall apart holds no victory for any of them.

Martin is not like Danny was. Taller, for one, wound-up over tight in his own clockwork of fears. He’d be about Danny’s age though. Maybe.

Danny went back to the Covent Garden Theatre, alone, and the being that had then gone by the name of Joseph Grimaldi had torn off his skin as easily as wrapping paper.

Martin went alone. He didn’t ask Tim for help, because he knew Tim would have said no, and there’s an ashy shame coating his tongue, knowing it would have been true.

It’s powerlessness that’s snarled him up in barbed wire, toothless and immobile. Tim’s felt powerless for a long time. That is not going to stop.

But his anger hasn’t protected him. Hasn’t protected Jon. Certainly hasn’t protected Martin.

Jon is not in bed when Tim goes back during visiting hours. The nurse directs him to another ward, indicating in few words that this jaunt was neither encouraged nor advised, but the patient was not one to be dissuaded.

Sounds like Jon.

The man himself has dressed erratically in the spares Tim bought. A t-shirt that is divorced from his own style, the colouring drawing him over-sallow, the jeans too short and trailing above his ankle. He’s squashed himself into a chair, his back folded like a shepherd’s crook, his scatter-shot energy spent into exhaustion. His hand in Martin’s wrapped one.

Martin’s awake. The ministrations of the Circus left his face mostly alone, clear enough for tubing to be threaded into his nostrils and down his throat but the bandaging is extensive. Tim would have thought he’d be away with the fairies on morphine by now, and rightly so, but his jaw sets imperious when he sees Tim. He doesn’t let go of Jon’s hand.

“You doing alright there, Marto?” Tim asks. There is another chair nearby that’s been left by a visitor long gone, and he drags it over. Tim chooses to keep his voice low, chooses to squash the anger that sparks up in him at the violence done to Martin’s body.

“What does it look like?” Martin replies. Not snapping, no wisp of anger there, but there’s a pained whipcord strain to his response, a forced pace to his breathing.

“I thought they’d have you on the good stuff,” Tim says after a moment.

Martin gestures with imprecise movements at a remote off to his right, a grey blocky shape with buttons, hooked up to some sort of patient-controlled analgesia machine.

“You not taken any?”

Martin, as best as he can, shakes his head.

“Why?”

“I just don’t want to, alright?”

Tim doesn’t push. The silence between the two of them is protracted, uncomfortable, but Tim can stand to learn some patience.

Martin’s eyes are watery, clearly trying to push through the pain. Jon sleeps on.

“He won’t tell me,” Martin says. “But it’s bad. I know it’s bad. Right?”

“Yes.”

Martin deserves his honesty. Tim doesn’t know how long Martin suffered on that factory floor until Jon ripped the Circus’ sawdust out with his fury. Long enough for the bandages to coat his arms and legs and back like lacquer, changed multiple times a day to make sure the skin grafts take, and the stitching holds.

Tim should have been there. Like he should have been there for Danny.

“God, Martin,” he says, and he’s surprised to find his throat has clenched tight. “It’s… I’m so sorry.”

“What are you sorry for? I went and got myself…” Martin trails off, swallows with difficulty. “I did this, it was all, all me. Fat lot of good it did.”

“You don’t know that…” Tim starts, but Martin looks at him and he seethes without raising his voice.

“What good’s come out of this then? Go on, Tim, tell me. I’m a – I’m a mess, and what the fuck do I have to show for it. What the fuck have any of us gained from this? I just fucked up, and it – I thought I was going to die. And worse, I thought they mightn’t let me, that they might take what they left as scraps a-a-and – ” Martin’s jaw clacks shut as he pushes down his distress.

“You saved Jon.”

“I didn’t though. The bloody – the bloody door monster showed up and did that simply fine without my help!”

“You don’t know that. You don’t know what you changed. God, Martin, this whole, this entire thing is all so, it’s fucked, right, it’s…” Tim’s voice wobbles, cracks. “But you tried to do something. You tried to help. And I’m – I’m so sorry you did it alone.”

Martin doesn’t leap to forgiveness. But he nods and Tim puts his hand on the wrappings up his arm and he doesn’t move away.

“What now?” he asks after a moment.

“I don’t know.”

Martin closes his eyes.

“I’m tired,” he confesses. “I’m just so tired of all… all this.”

“We’ll think of something,” Tim says. Finding that he means it. It’s not a promise, but it’s as good as he’s able to offer these days. “You should take some of that morphine. It’ll… it’ll help.”

“It makes me feel out of it. Like, sluggish. And everything’s far away.”

“That means it’s working, Marto,” Tim says, trying for light-hearted, but Martin’s shaking his head, and the shivering is back in his hands. A wide and trembling glaze to his expression.

“If they come back…”

He doesn’t finish his sentence.

“I’ll stay,” Tim says. Pats Martin’s arm in a way he hopes conveys reassurance.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Martin nods. Tim helps him grasp the grey remote, push down the button. It’s not long before Martin’s drifted off.

Tim sits there for a long while, thinking about the future.

#tma #tim stoker #fic #martin blackwood #jonathan sims #cw violence #cw implied torture #cw hospitals #hurt/comfort #the magnus archives

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actuallyintro · 4 years ago

Note

Could you write a story where Lorraine faints on a case?

Hi anon! I'm so glad to be back and to have this written for you. When I first started this fic, it started one direction before quickly turning in a completely opposite one. It also ended up being a topic I haven't had the chance to write about much, even though it's pretty popular in this fandom. I hope you enjoy it!

Summary: While on a case one day, Lorraine suddenly faints and ends up waking up in the hospital. Once there, with her husband by her side, they both get some pretty unexpected.. but exciting news.

Wordcount: 1730 words (yes, this was definitely longer than I had originally planned)

Two Is Better Than One

For the past few days, Ed couldn’t help but be worried about his wife. He knew they’d recently started taking on more cases then they had been, but something seemed different. Something he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

They were in the middle of a local case this time, a poltergeist that didn’t seem to want to leave, no matter what they tried. With a family caught in the middle, Ed knew Lorraine wouldn’t stop till she knew all of them were safe.

He often worried that she’d run herself ragged, always worrying about everyone else in her life, forgetting that sometimes she needed to put herself first. He knew it was her nature, being caring and selfless, but Ed just wanted to make sure she never forgot to take care of herself as well.

From the time they started dating, to before they got married, and especially after, he often tried to set aside time just for the two of them. A time with no dangers, no worries, but the chance to just be together. To take care of each other.

While he was worried about Lorraine, he also knew he trusted her judgement. Trusted that she knew her limits, and just how hard she could push herself. He never wanted to undermine that, to show he didn’t. Their relationship was built on trust, it was one of the most important things to both of them. They trusted each other with their lives, at times, it seemed like they trusted each other more than they trusted themselves.

“Ed, can you hand me a flashlight?” He vaguely heard, snapping out of his daydream, refocusing on the current task at hand.

Nodding quickly, he grabbed the extra flashlight, handing it over to her. She looked up at him, concern evident before asking, “Are you alright?”

“Sorry yeah, I’m alright.” He said quickly, Lorraine glancing him up and down, before turning the flashlight on, going back to the task at hand.

She swallowed lightly, as she crawled into one of the crawl-spaces of the house, not quite sure what she was looking for, just hoping she would know once she found it. Lorraine had felt slightly nauseous the last few days, chalking it up to a random bug going around or not drinking enough water. Being in the type of situations she often was, it wasn’t unlikely to catch a cold or to feel under the weather. It came with the job, even if the job was.. unusual.

As she crawled around, she found nothing to help them solve the case they were working on, nothing that helped answer the questions they were trying to solve.

“Find anything Lorraine?” She heard Ed call from above ground.

“No, nothing. But I’m coming back up.” Lorraine said, crawling back the same way she did, when she’d entered the crawl-space. She crawled until she finally saw light peaking through the cracks of the basement, standing up a little too quickly as she made it outside.

She swallowed again as she stood up, suddenly not feeling well. The world seemed like it was spinning, a type of motion she couldn’t control.

Suddenly, before she knew it, the world went dark. Ed’s voice calling for her, being the last thing she heard, before she heard complete silence.

Lorraine awoke a few hours later to a faint beeping noise and the feeling of someone else’s hand in her own. Blinking a few times, she looked around the room, connecting that she was currently in a hospital bed, her husband sat next to her.

He had his eyes closed, and she could see a faint tear-track down his face. Frowning slightly, trying to remember exactly what happened, she squeezed his hand as she looked over at him.

Ed quickly opened his eyes, swallowing lightly as he let out a small sigh of relief, looking back at Lorraine, grateful to see her eyes open again.

Neither one of them knew what to say right-away, Ed was still slightly shaken up from watching her faint, knowing that he couldn’t do anything. Lorraine, knowing something wasn’t right, that she shouldn’t have passed out just from standing up too fast.

“Have.. the doctors said anything?” She finally asked quietly, looking down at the IV still in her arm.

Ed shook his head, “They stopped by once when you were still asleep.. mentioning they ran a few tests but they haven’t been back since.” He told her, still feeling nervous about her test results, lightly blaming himself inside for not taking better care of her. Not telling her to rest more or to drink more water.

As if she could hear what he was thinking, she said seriously, “Ed, you know this wasn’t your fault. Please don’t blame yourself.” If it had been under any other circumstances, Ed might have let out a small chuckle, her always knowing what he was thinking. The way neither of them had ever been able to keep things to themselves.

Before he could respond, they both heard a knock at the door, turning to find the doctor on call. They both turned their attention to the door as the doctor walked in. She seemed young but determined, a small nametag on her lab coat, “Dr. Novak.”

“Mrs. Warren, we’re glad you’re awake. How do you feel?” The doctor asked, flipping open Lorraine’s chart, as she made a few notes of her vitals.

“I feel alright… as one does when they accidentally faint.” She started, the doctor letting out a small chuckle under her breath, nodding in understanding.

“But did my test results come back?” Lorraine finished, looking up at the doctor. She just wanted to make sure everything was fine, that she wasn’t sick.. or hurt.

“That’s actually why I stopped in. First to check on you now that you’re awake, making sure you weren’t in too much pain. And to discuss your test results.” Pulling a chair up to both of them, she flipped open her lab results, giving them a glance over once more.

She looked back up at both of them before she started explaining, “To start, all of your basic results came back normal. Your labs looked great, and you seem to be very healthy. That’s very good news.” The doctor told both of them, immediately noticing the look of relief on both of their faces.

“But why did she faint?” Ed asked curiously, relieved his wife was healthy, but still curious what caused this to happen. Especially if her labs came back normal.

Flipping to the next page of her notes, “That’s the second thing I wanted to talk to you about. Once those results came back, we ran one more just to make sure, a suspicion if you will.” She began, a small smile on her face.

Lorraine squeezed Ed’s hand tightly as they waited for the doctor to finish speaking, finding comfort in her husband just being there, being next to her.

“Mrs. Warren, with the last test we ran, we found that your hormone levels were slightly elevated. This alone wouldn’t cause you to faint, but as we tested further, we found the cause. Congratulations Mrs. Warren, you’re expecting.” She told them both, giving them time to process.

Lorraine looked over at Ed, before looking back at the doctor, “I’m pregnant?” She questioned quietly, wanting to make sure she didn’t misunderstand.

“You are. We don’t know exactly how far along you are, but I’d suspect somewhere around 7 weeks. That’s why you’ve been feeling nauseous and dizzy recently. I’d recommend making an appointment with an obgyn, a specialist as soon as possible but based on what I can tell, both you and the baby are perfectly healthy.” The doctor finished, before saying,

“Now I’ll leave you both alone for a few minutes, before I'll send a nurse in with some information for both of you and discharge paperwork to get all three of you home.” She finished, shaking both of their hands lightly as she excused herself from the hospital room, letting the hospital door shut behind her.

Leaving the two of them, Lorraine looked over at her husband, a few tears in her eyes. They weren’t sad tears, she could never be sad over news like this, but rather tears of happiness and the promise of new beginnings.

“Oh Lorraine..” Ed started quietly, getting up and carefully sitting at the edge of her bed, just wanting.. needing to be near her.

She moved over as far as she could, not wanting to tangle the wires still connected to her, but wanting him to lay by her. She wanted to be in his arms, knowing that was the place she felt the safest.

Sitting in silence for a few minutes, Lorraine finally spoke, “I can’t believe… we’re going to be parents.” She said quietly, looking over at him.

“I can’t believe it either, but I know you’re going to make the most excellent mother. And I love you.. and our baby very much.” He told her sincerely, leaning down to kiss her lightly, not wanting her to strain too much after what happened. She grabbed his hand and rested it on-top of hers.

“I love you too. Both of you.” Lorraine said sleepily, before letting out a small yawn. Ed chuckled quietly at her reaction, knowing she was still exhausted from today’s events.

“Why don’t you get some sleep before we get to go home. You and the baby need rest now more than ever.” Even though they’d only found out they were expecting barely a few minutes, he couldn’t help but be slightly excited about this news. Of course, he was terrified as all first-time parents were, but he’d always wanted a family, especially with Lorraine.

Lorraine nodded before asking quietly, “Stay with us?” Not wanting him to move away from her.

“Always, I’ll always stay with both of you.” He said quietly, moving as close to her as could, being mindful of her IV as she let her head fall into the curve of his neck. “And once you’re awake, we can discuss you taking it easy, resting more.” He teased, knowing she couldn’t hear him.

But that was a conversation for a different time. For now, he’d let her sleep, enjoying the quiet of all of them together, especially the one they just found out about.

#The Conjuring #The Conjuring Universe #ed and lorraine warren #Forever & Intro #Intrononymous

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winterscaptain · 5 years ago

Text

when you wake up.

Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral Reader

a/n: i’m a sucker for protective aaron, alright? sue me. i have checked and double checked, but if i’ve messed up any gender-neutralisms, please let me know! i’d like to thank snow, the academy, and my welbutrin for their spiritual aid as i write these fics at an alarming rate rating/words: teen / 2642 warnings: canon-typical injury, swearing, kissing

AO3 | Masterlist | Requests Open!

+++

“You know –“ you gasped, grimacing through the pain, “blood is a bitch to get out of a wool blend.”

Aaron pressed his lips together, his forearms flexing as he staunched the bleeding from the gunshot wound in your shoulder with his gorgeous navy pinstripe blazer.

That one was my favorite, you thought with a pout.

He had you propped against a wall, his shirt splattered with your blood. He had torn the collar of your shirt for better access to your wound, and your vest was entirely forgotten on the floor beside you. Emily called the paramedics about seven minutes prior, but the backroads of Montana were not conducive to prompt medical service.

The pain wasn’t unbearable, and surely you’d been through worse.

Shock is a hell of a drug.

Nevertheless, his concern was touching. It had been a while since either one of you were injured – long before you realized you had feelings for each other and did absolutely nothing about it.

It all happened so fast – you had your gun trained on the unsub, who was using the sixth almost-victim as a shield. As soon as Derek and Aaron threw the back door open, he’d shoved the frightened young woman toward Derek and moved really quickly.

Bang. Ouch. Fuck.

“Aaron.”

He didn’t respond and was dutifully ignoring your eyes, focused entirely on the blood gushing through his fingers under your shoulder blade. The hand attached to your injured arm wrapped around his bicep, your fingers clinging to the fabric of his sleeve.

“I’m fine,” you continued. “It’s through and through. Six weeks tops I’ll be back to my old tricks.”

You brought your other hand to his hair, and he leaned into your touch almost unconsciously. Your thumb smoothed over the hair at his temple, where tiny silver streaks rested in the inky black. You were just teasing him about his greys last week.

“They make you look distinguished!” You insisted. You were behind him as he sat at his dining room table, helping Jack set the table for dinner while Aaron tried (in vain) to review a consult.

“They make me look old,” he retorted in a deadpan.

You raked your fingers through the hair at his temples, massaging his scalp all the way to the crown of his head. He leaned back, his hand relaxing around his pen. With a final pat to the top of his head, you stepped away and returned to the pasta sauce.

“No old man would cook as badly as you do.”

His withering glare made his son laugh out loud, and the look only grew darker as you offered Jack a high-five.

“You’re still losing a lot of blood.” His voice was low and tense, his jaw tight.

Derek hovered nearby, though Aaron had shooed him away minutes earlier. He was talking into the comm, likely getting status updates from EMS.

Offering Derek a weak smile, you let your hand drop to Hotch’s wrist. Your eyes were heavy, but you fought to keep them open. Falling unconscious now would only worry him more.

“Aaron, you need to breathe.”

He huffs, and it’s almost a laugh but there’s no humor in it. “You’re telling me to breathe?”

“I’m breathing just fine.” And you were, focused only on the feel of his hands on your skin and the slow, deep breaths you took to keep your oxygen levels high as your blood pressure dropped. “Breathe with me, please. It’ll make me feel better.” That was a low blow, but you were pulling every card you had to keep him from breaking his teeth with that clenched jaw.

God, you were just so tired.

Aaron’s brown eyes flickered up to yours and softened. He leaned forward, shifting his weight and wrapping an arm around you as sirens faintly wailed some distance away. “Lean into me. It’s okay. You can sleep. I’ve got you.”

You were cheek-to-cheek when you finally passed out, succumbing to the heaviness.

+++

When you woke up, your shoulder ached, and the lights were way too bright.

There was a weight dipping the mattress on your left side and a dark shadow on your right.

You lifted your head slightly to see Aaron fast asleep, his head resting on his arms. You smiled and redirected your attention to your right. The dark shadow was Emily, watching you with a soft smile.

“Hey, champ.”

“Hey Em.”

She gestured to Aaron with her chin. “He hasn’t left once.” There was an implication behind her words, something not-quite suggestive, but understanding.

You ignored it for now. “How long was I out?” You brought your hand to Aaron’s tense shoulder, relaxing there, your thumb tracing back and forth over his baby blue button-down. Your IV line pulled a little, and you retracted your hand to his bicep.

“About two days. Surgery went really well – they just had to patch up a couple of ligaments and set a few pins in your clavicle. Nothing shattered, and no fragments. All things considered, really clean shot.”

Not as bad as I thought.

“He’s been here the whole time? Are we still in Montana? What day is it?”

Emily laughed, smiling broadly. “So many questions!” She counted off on her fingers. “His ass has only left that chair to chase down your doctor and go to the bathroom like...twice. We are still in Montana. It’s Tuesday. We’ll be on our way home as soon as you’re discharged. We wouldn’t leave without you.”

You sighed, adjusting your position on the bed. “Thanks.”

She winked.

Hotch stirred, and Emily stood.

“I’ll leave you two for now. We’re all out in the waiting room if you want to see anyone.” She kissed your forehead and slipped out, closing the door behind her.

You could see the exact moment he registered your hand on his shoulder. He startled, straightening faster than you could blink. His eyes still bleary from sleep, you watched as he took stock of your entire person, finally meeting your eyes.

“Hi, Hotch.”

“Hi.” He reached for your hand with both of his, careful of the IV in your forearm. He brought your linked hands to his lips - warm, relieved breath washing over your fingers.

You squeezed once, feeling the stress and worry in his grip. “I’m okay.”

“I know.”

“I’m sorry I got shot.” Your voice was soft, but the humor behind it was unmistakable.

He huffed a laugh against your hands. “I should be mad at you.”

“You aren’t?”

Just then, a twinge in your shoulder made you wince. Your face crinkled up before you could hide it.

Hotch immediately reached for the call button, his body arcing gracefully over yours, pressing it twice. He looked down at you from under his arm. “No, I’m not.”

The nurse came in, said something about how nice it was to see you awake, and administered some more pain medication. She worked around Hotch, who never let go of your hand.

You had your eyes on him the whole time. His hawkish brown eyes tracked everything – the dosage, the IV drip – until the nurse left the room.

Right away, you started feeling heavy, your eyes slipping closed. “I don’t - I don’t wanna sleep,” you mumbled.

The back of Hotch’s hand traced the line of your cheek in a gentle caress. Your eyes fluttered closed, and you felt his touch fall down your good arm and wind your fingers together. “I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

“You should get s’m sleep.”

You weren’t sure if it was the haze of meds or not, but you could swear you felt kisses to each one of your fingertips before you slipped into unconsciousness once more.

+++

When you woke again, he was still there. He was kicked back in the recliner this time, a book in his lap and reading glasses perched on his nose. It was dark outside, and you surmised you’d been asleep for a couple of hours.

“Since when do you wear reading glasses?” Your voice was rough with sleep.

Hotch snatched the glasses in question off his nose and folded them into his collar. “I don’t, usually, but the fluorescents are hard on my eyes after a while.”

You nodded sagely before breaking out into a smile. He offered you one back, one of those sweet, crooked, closed-mouth tip-ups.

Those might be my favorite.

You shifted, scooting over in the hospital bed and raising the head with the remote so you could sit up with more ease. Hotch stood, and you could tell he was trying to give you space as you independently adjusted your surroundings.

You patted the bed next to your hip, and he gingerly sat beside you, crossing his ankle over his opposite knee. He probably didn’t realize, but his entire body was bowed toward you, from his toes to his shoulders. You had always been tuned to each other, like finely-made instruments.

There was so much to say, so much unsaid. This injury was pretty far from a near-death experience, but it was enough to screw your head on straight a little bit.

“Aaron, I --“ You stopped, not sure where to begin. You rested a hand on the knee within your reach, tracing absentminded circles on the grain of his jeans.

Almost three days in the hospital and he’s still wearing jeans.

Well...at least it’s not a suit.

“Why did you stay?” Your words left you without your permission, but maybe it was better that way.

His brow lowered. “It’s my job.”

Your lips tipped up in a small, wry smile. “Bullshit.”

He heaved a sigh. “Fine. I felt...compelled to make sure you were alright.” His eyes were cast down toward the heavy white blanket beneath him. “Every time I got up to leave, I couldn’t. I couldn’t leave you knowing you could wake up and I wouldn’t be there.”

You were acutely aware of the dopey grin on your face.

He looked up at you. “It doesn’t make any sense I know –“

“Aaron.” You stopped him with four fingers pressed to his mouth. It was the first time you’d actually instigated contact with his mouth. You felt the stubble that was rapidly turning into a proper beard, but you were focused on the softness of his mouth. You softened, letting your hand relax against him. “It makes sense to me.”

There was silence for a moment. You just stared at each other, your hand still over his mouth. You were glad your heart rate stayed steady, as the beeping was one of the only sounds in the room.

“Hey, Aaron?” Your fingers weren’t really tracing his lips, but they weren’t...not doing that either.

He smiled and spoke from behind your fingers. “Yeah?”

“The spot between my shoulders is insanely itchy.”

He shook his head, exasperated, and pulled your fingers from his mouth. “Lean up for a second.”

You did, and he pulled a pillow from behind you and put it in your lap. You wrapped your good arm around it and ducked your head down. His fingers massaged across your good shoulder and neck, releasing some of the tension there.

He laughed aloud when you made a (frankly) obscene noise when he hit a particularly sore spot.

“You’re giving my physical therapist a run for his money, Aaron.”

“Good.”

He moved down underneath the sling strap, gently running his nails back and forth over the skin peeking through your hospital gown. It was heaven.

“Okay, you can’t ever stop doing that.”

He continued, scratching lightly up and down your spine “I’m here as long as you want me here, sweetheart.”

The endearment made your heart feel all fuzzy, and you relaxed further into the pillow, your body relaxing as the tension melted out of your back.

He stopped after a few minutes, just smoothing his hand back and forth along the left side of your back. “Feeling better?”

“Much, thank you,” you said, leaning back against the pillows.

He brushed some hair away from your face and hesitated there for a moment. Your jaw fit a little too neatly in his hand. You licked your lips, finding your mouth suddenly dry.

“Y/N...” he said, still quiet.

You shook your head and leaned forward at the same time he did. You met halfway, and he captured your lips with a relieved sigh. He was so careful with you, considering your injury, one hand reaching from your jaw to the side of your head, the other resting on your thigh on top of the thin hospital blanket.

The faded smell of his cologne or deodorant or something very masculine swirled around you. It was a smell you could identify anywhere – something spicy and earthy and Aaron.

Your noses slid against each other as you pulled apart to grin at each other. He pulled you back toward him and your lips met again. Your breath caught as his tongue traced your lower lip. You granted him access, ignoring the embarrassing spike in your heart rate that sent the monitors into a frenzy.

A part of you absolutely wanted to jump him then and there, but between your shoulder and the big window facing out into the hallway, that was a no-go.

You settled for devouring him from where you were instead, taking his lips between your teeth until he was groaning into your mouth. His hands knotted in your hair and you twisted his shirt in your hand. You didn’t think too much about the fact you’d been asleep for two days and therefore had two days of morning breath. The only thing on your mind was the taste of coffee on Aaron’s tongue, the hand planted firmly on your thigh, and the surprising softness of his lips.

It’s not that you thought he’d be a bad kisser, but fuck he was good at it. Almost too good. You craved more and damned your shoulder (again) for keeping you tethered to this bed and unable to wrap him in your arms.

“God,” he whispered into your mouth. “I was so scared I was going to lose you.”

You laughed into him, nipping at his lip again. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

There was a desperate edge to his touch as he took your face between his hands and pulled back to look at you. He kissed you once. Twice. So gently you almost couldn’t feel it. “I’m never getting rid of you,” he said. “Not now, not ever.”

It took you a couple of seconds to open your eyes again. When you did, the warm brown of Aaron’s eyes sank into you, and you almost forgot you’d been shot less than 72 hours prior. “Am I nuts to tell you how much I love you when I’m hopped up on pain meds?”

He shook his head, a thousand-gigawatt smile eating up his whole face. You cupped his jaw in your hand, pressing your thumb into one of his dimples. He tenderly covered your hand with his and turned to press an achingly gentle kiss your palm. “Only a little,” he said. He guided you back onto the pillows, arranging them around you so you could sleep without jostling your shoulder.

The nurse bustled back in and asked after your pain level. You said seven (it was a lie, you’d give it a nine and a half if you weren’t trying to be a hero), and she administered another round of meds. She swept out of the room and your eyes started to close again.

“Aaron...” you whispered, clinging to the last dregs of consciousness.

A kiss to your forehead. Warm breath over your fingers.

If safety had a texture, it would be somewhere between the callouses on his hands and the cool cotton of his dress shirts.

“I’m here.” A pause. “Hey.”

You cracked an eyelid.

“I love you too, by the way.”

+++

tagging: @arganfics @quillvine @stxrryspencer @agenthotchner @hurricanejjareau @fics-ilike @octothorpetopus @ange-must-die @ughitsbaby @rousethemouse @criminalsmarts @dr-reid-ismyspiritanimal @shrimpyblog @genevievedarcygranger @ssaic-jareau @saintd0lce @good-heavens-chris-evans

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #hotch x reader #hotch #tali writes fanfiction #i'll have you know hotch autocorrected to hot chip no less than three times while writing that last tag

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satsuma-saturn · 4 years ago

Note

Ive been feeling down could you do some satan comfort? Like im just so overwhelmed and when im like this i either get mad or depressed.

I Am Not A Robot - Satan x Reader

A/N: Dude, I feel you on the being overwhelmed bit. I didn’t really know what route to take this, but I know when I’m laying awake at night, my mind wanders. I was listening to Call Me Kevin videos while writing this and almost wrote in random words that he was saying and that wouldn’t make any actual sense in the fic 💀 I also prolly should’ve waited to write this, since it’s super late and I just want to sleep, but I did want to get this posted, or else it was gonna take awhile before I got to it. Anyway, hope you enjoy, Anon! If it’s not up to your standards, feel free to shoot me a message. I could’ve gone a little more in depth about the reader’s thoughts and feelings, but I just wanted to keep it short and sweet.

WC: 1007

Warning(s): Idk, just general depression ig? Nothing specific tho

Another sleepless night. Moonlight peeked through the curtains, illuminating your face and dark circles. You hadn’t had decent sleep in...well, you couldn’t remember. Staying awake all night left you alone with your thoughts, consuming you. You sat up, running shaky fingers through your unbrushed locks. Your hands slid down from your head, down your face as you groaned. Maybe you needed to do something to take your mind off of the thoughts invading your mind. The library, maybe? Delving into a land of fantasy didn’t sound like a bad way to distract yourself.

Swinging your legs over your bed, you stood up, stretching. With a quick glance at the clock, it was some time after two, you strode out into the hall, shutting your door behind you. You walked down the hall, past the brothers’ rooms. As you passed Leviathan’s room, you could hear some tune from some game, probably. He needed to sleep, but you would be a hypocrite to say anything. None of the other brothers seemed active, though, which didn’t surprise you. They had normal sleeping schedules.

Finally approaching the library, you saw a dim light flooding under the door. Someone probably forgot to turn off all of the lights, the culprit most likely being Satan, since he was the one most often in the library. There was no way he hasn’t read all of the books in the library, being alive as long as he has, yet he was still always in there, reading. He even went in there to read when he was reading ebooks. You found yourself joining him often, trying to hide your little crush on him. With a small sigh, you pushed open the door, you stepped inside, not noticing that you weren’t alone. In fact, you didn’t notice until you heard someone clearing their throat. You jumped, startled by the noise.

“Shouldn’t you be asleep?” It was Satan. He was curled up in a chair, a book propped open in his hands. His eyebrows were high on his forehead as he stared at you, waiting for your response.

“I…” You weren’t sure how to respond. Because you were human, unlike the brothers, they tended to get pissy when you weren’t taking care of yourself. “I could say the same to you, Satan. Why are you in the library so late at night?” Your arms cross over your chest as you wait, pleased with yourself for turning it back on him.

Chuckling he shut his book, setting it on the coffee table in front of his chair. He stood up, striding over to you. “I have an eternity to sleep. You have around a hundred years, give or take a few. Copying your actions, he crossed his arms over his chest. “Again I’ll ask, shouldn’t you be asleep?” Cyan eyes, illuminated by the dim lamp light, bored into your soul as he waited for you to respond. A small, smug grin ghosted his face, as he knew you couldn’t retort.

You sighed, flopping into the nearest armchair. “I couldn’t sleep. Trust me, I’ve been trying for hours. I just...I dunno, I guess I just have a lot on my mind. I thought I’d come here to find some book to read, try to take my mind off of things. I didn’t really expect to come across you here. I thought you were asleep.”

He was silent for a moment, appearing to be lost in thought. “Well, I am here. I couldn’t sleep either, but I don’t technically need it to live. Did you know that it only takes three days of not sleeping for a human to begin hallucinating? The human body will shut down at some point, forcing sleep.”

“I sleep at night, just not very long,” you retorted, not wanting to be lectured about sleep.

“I’m just saying,” Satan said, raising his hands in defense. “Look, if you’re not going to sleep, you may as well come sit with me.” He sat back down, choosing to sit on a couch, instead of the arm chair he’d previously been sitting in. “Come sit over here.” His hand rested on the space directly next to him. You got off the arm chair, taking a spot near him on the couch. It wasn’t quite where he was indicating for you to sit, but your heart might have exploded out of your chest if you sat that close. Since you didn’t sit next to him, he apparently made the decision to sit next to you, as he scooted over stopping when his thigh was touching yours. “What? You don’t wanna sit next to me?”

When he was next to you, you made the bold decision to rest your head on his lap. He didn’t attempt to make you move, so you figured it was alright. “No, I do want to sit next to you. I just sat down here.”

Satan grunted in response, his nimble fingers finding purchase in your hair. “When was the last time you washed your hair?” He asked, rubbing circles into your scalp. “I suppose it doesn’t matter,” he said, not giving you a chance to answer. “You can worry about that later. It’s clear you need some comfort, and lecturing you won’t help. Just...just try to get some sleep, okay? You are far from well rested and humans need proper sleep to function.”

“Okay,” was all you replied with, closing your eyes. You weren’t ready to fall asleep yet, but his fingers against your scalp felt nice, soothing.

“No matter what’s going on in that little human brain of yours, your health is of utmost importance. You have to take care of yourself.” His breath tickled your hair as he leaned down to place a kiss on your forehead. “You aren’t a robot. A simple reboot won’t fix you and I can’t fix you. I can only stand in your corner and be here to comfort you when you need it. Now, get some sleep, or I’ll get Belphegor to help you sleep.”

#obey me #swd #obey me x reader #swd obey me #shall we date #shall we date obey me #obey me satan #obey me satan x reader #obey me fluff #mild angst #mentions of depression and insomnia #request #answered #anon request

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badatjokezz · 5 years ago

Text

Haikyuu!! Rare Pair Fic Recs

i’ve been so hype about some Hq rarepairs lately now imma list some of my fav fanfics, mostly OiSuga mwehehe....

(probably gonna add some more in the future)

Oisuga (Oikawa x Sugawara)

1. Stuck in the Middle With You by overlymetaromantic

It's not the kind of blossoming relationship either of them would expect, but maybe, just maybe, it could lead to something good.

1. In which Suga and Oikawa run into each other on a late night convenience store run.

2. In which Suga and Oikawa inadvertently switch bags and end up with the other’s uniform.

3. In which Suga gives Oikawa the lecture he doesn't want but probably needs, and Oikawa might accidentally be a little in love.

4. In which Oikawa won't shut up about Suga, and Iwaizumi plays matchmaker just to make him stop.

5. In which there is not a date, and Suga likes spicy things much more than sweet.

6. In which Karasuno and Aobajousai hold training camps in the same neck of the woods, and the trip back proves to be more revealing than it probably should.

7. In which there might just be a future to this after all.

(Dis is so fluffy i might die)

2. moving on (growing up) by _helios (neocitz)

‘I’ll do it,’ Suga says, walking into their prep school and dropping his bag on the floor next to Oikawa. He shoves the melon bun and drink forward into Oikawa’s hands, and stands there looking down at him because he knows that he needs to not chicken out.

‘You’ll do what?’ Oikawa looks up through his glasses, eyes wide and confused as the other students stream in around them.

‘The fake dating thing, I’ll do it.’

‘Fuck. Yes.’ Oikawa says with a fist pump.

(It’s been AGES since i read Fake/Pretend Relationship fic, this one is goood)

3. how strange, to be remembered by venusintwelfthFandoms

"He is not formed of the type of dust that makes up stars. Suga is not the type of person that stays in the mind of one like Oikawa Tooru, ten years later. He is formed of the type of dust you shake off, the type that settles into the ground."

Ten years after Suga last steps off a high-school court, Oikawa recollects a "Mr. Refreshing" in a post-game interview, and Suga is left scrambling.

(Cute one-shot, Oikawa still remember Mr. Refreshing from Karasuno)

4. all the small things by Authoress for lemedy

Sugawara Koushi.

Oikawa’s brain supplies the name of the person standing at the other end of the aisle before Oikawa can even register him, attuned to spitting out facts about other volleyball players on a second’s notice, even after all these years. Karasuno High vice-captain. 174 cm…no, more like 176 now. Skilled at raising morale and bringing an element of surprise to their strategy. Troublesome. Refreshing. Setter.

The enemy.

(Single Dad! Oikawa, cuuutee ugh)

5. Win Some by kingdra (aroceu) for Icie

Tooru does not have a problem, its name is certainly not Sugawara Koushi, and he is not going to the Karasuno practices just to watch him. Regardless of whatever Iwa-chan says.

(High school romane~)

6. Even as bright as you are? by BKAKCANON

That night when he goes to sleep, he includes "the safety of fairies" on his prayers, making a promise to whoever was listening him, that he'd protect all the fairies and keep their secret safe forever.

[Where Oikawa meets Suga when they are kids and Oikawa believes Suga is secretly a fairy and decides he has to protect his secret all costs.]

(This is basically matches my headcanon)

7. getting to know you by oisugasuga

Suga feels like he’s back on the court then, his heart thudding hard in his ears… so hard he almost misses what Oikawa says. Unfortunately, though, he doesn’t.

"My, my. What a surprise," Oikawa Tooru says. And then… "Hello, Mr. Refreshing."

(Haven’t finished yet but DAMN I LOVE OIKAWA AND SUGA IN HERE, single dad! oikawa, and Suga babysitting oikawa’s kid, def slow burn. Imma follow this fic till death)

8. Dear Reader by hyirule

No one seems to read the paper anymore. But Oikawa likes to for the sports section. One day he finds himself reading a section called "Dear Reader" and finds a submission he can relate to.

Basically messages sent through a page on a newspaper brings to unlikely souls together, who maybe have more in common than they first thought.

(Cannon compliant, simple and... refreshing(?))

9. rest by shicchaan

Tooru looks at the sleeping person beside him as he waits for the lights change into green. The growing fringe of his husband started to cover his eyes but he can still see the beautiful birthmark under the silver haired's left eye.

(Established relationship, fluff fluff!!!)

10. long is the road (that leads me home) by ichweissnichtauch

He thinks about himself, deleting contacts from his phone and throwing coffee cups away without even looking at the string of numbers scrawled in Sharpie ink underneath, and he’s tired of hiding, tired of carefully treading the lines he’d drawn for himself all those years ago.

Just this once, Tooru wants— he thinks he wants to be brave.

Oikawa Tooru is not a stranger to wanting.

(like... 20% Oisuga but i like the way this story follows the Cannon till he get to Argentina)

11. It's Always Been About You by mintycarrots

Every time Tooru had envisioned meeting his soulmate, it was a confession of love, filled with tears of happiness and a lot of making out. It would be a faceless petite girl that would support Tooru in whatever he chose to pursue and would understand when Tooru prioritized volleyball over all else.

It was never a boy on the rival team.

(Soulmate AU)

12. a play in three acts by venusintwelfth

"The first time Sugawara Koushi sees Oikawa Tooru play, he thinks that if he wasn’t so set on volleyball, he’d do well in theater."

the first seijoh x karasuno match through the eyes of suga.

(Kinda poetic i guess, well written af)

13. colors by dazeful

Sugawara Koushi's colorful life as an archer.

(this is like the perfect oisuga one shot ive ever read)

___

IwaSuga (Iwaizumi x Sugawara)

1. And so the moon cried by iwriteinpenFandoms:

The hillocks are the domain of unearthly creatures. Creatures of rot and fog, of music and dance. Like ghosts in the night they travel without leaving footprints, they disappear in a flurry of long dresses and pale hair. Those who are fated to see them risk curses far worse than death. You may hear them, a giggle in the wind. You may smell them, the smell of the fog rolling in through the trees. You should pray you never see them. Iwaizumi Hajime is a simple man. He works a simple farm job and enjoys simple things. After one morning where he woke next to a perfect circle of death and only the memory of brown eyes and cold hands, he finds himself inexplicably drawn to the forest. Will the tales of his childhood play out with him at the center or will he have to disregard all reason?

(Danish Folklore AU)

2. Cry Just A Little by DreadfulMind

Suga was whistling a tune to himself as he opened the door to the bathroom, so he didn't hear the muffled crying through the door. But he could hear it clearly once he was inside. He heard the sharp sob of someone trying to stop.

"Iwaizumi?" He asked, "are you sure you're alright?"

(Simple but c u t e)

3. Generations by Karasuno Volleygays (ToBeOrNotToBeAGryffindor), mozaikmage

Professional sports blogger Sugawara Koushi writes an article about a volleyball match that bears special meaning to him and his former kouhai: a showdown between Kitagawa Daiichi and Yukigaoka Middle School, ten years after the teams faced off for the first time. He doesn't plan on capturing the attention of the world of sports journalism, and he certainly doesn't expect himself to end up having a thing for one of the coaches involved, one Iwaizumi Hajime.

(Time-Skip, I loved it)

___

KuroTsuki (Kuroo x Tsukishima)

1. Invictus by Chiru

Kuroo T. » So let me get this straight (gay?) Kuroo T. » You want me to pretend to be your perfect and fabulous boyfriend, so that your little freckled friend will stop trying to set you up with cute little highschool girls? Tsukishima Kei » yes Kuroo T. » Aha. Tsukishima Kei » you'll do it? Kuroo T. » I don't know. I missed the part where I get something out of it. Tsukishima Kei » you get to annoy me. Unfortunately Kuroo T. » Tempting, Tsukki, very tempting indeed.

(Fake/Pretend Relationship, some fluff, some angst, i read this in the middle of the night and cried, fortunately happy ending)

2. hold onto hope if you got it by nekolyssi

"Now, in the beginning of their third year of high school, the obnoxious hollering and incessant spirit of his teammates became normalcy to Kei. And now, normalcy is this. Weekly psych meetings. Pharmacy waiting rooms. Prescriptions. Refusal of prescriptions. More prescriptions."

(Not finished yet but yep prolly gonna put this one to one of those best haikyuu fics ive ever read. I wasnt so interested at first but i really like the idea of mental ilness etc, this is g o o d!!)

3. [KuroTsuki Fest Week 2017] Traces by Heartythrills

Kuroo’s disappeared for a little over a week now, and suddenly a 4 year old who looks like him appears before Tsukishima’s apartment.

(Age regression, fluff)

4. I swear by xArtemisx

Like the shadow that's by your side I'll be there

"What are you doing here, Tetsu? It's cold." Kei asked softly. Tetsurou smiled. Hearing his name came out of Kei's lips is always music to his ears.

"Nothing. I just came to think that whatever memory we make, may it be happy or sad memories, the bright moon and the starry night sky is always there to be the witness. Did you notice?" The alpha answered and Kei nodded. He also noticed it.

"Yes, I did noticed it."

(I love agony and sad ending....)

5. Honeybee by ClosetGoblin

Tsukishima has trouble sleeping one night during a Third Gym Camping Trip. So, he takes his acoustic guitar and passes the time with some music, and gets a visitor. Maybe he doesn't mind Kuroo's voice as he does the screeching that Lev and Hinata call singing.

(Simple but sweet)

6. Say You Like Me by the_madame21

It's been three months. And Tsukishima Kei is going to see Kuroo Tetsurou.

(light angst and.. s m u t. Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamic)

7. trying to get to you by mytsukkishine

Everything came crashing down on Kuroo when Kei had left him alone with nothing but the moon shining down on him.

Wherein, Kuroo was struggling to move on and decided that he wouldn't mind being with Kei again.

(sad beginning? yes. sad ending? y e s. you’re a masochist? come get your juice)

8. Please Hold by ThemooncatFandoms

Kei was expecting Kuroo to do one of two things; Send a text to the office saying that they will have to call back another time and continue what they started, or excuse himself from Kei to answer the call, which was most likely. He shouldn’t have been surprised when Kuroo does neither of those things.

(short but hot. what’s hotter than quiet sex?)

___

Ushijima x Oikawa

1. This Insignificant Pride and Prejudice by Mysecretfanmoments, Pouler (poulerslashes)

Oikawa Tooru graduated high school with the burning desire to succeed in his college career. He'd hoped that might include taking down his arch-nemesis along the way, but when he finds that his college team hosts an offensively familiar face, he can't help but think that the universe might be conspiring against him. After all, what could be worse than playing on the same team as Ushijima?

(It was funny for me reading oikawa/ushijima fic with that “you should’ve come to Shiratorizawa” joke at first but somehow i found this one... endearing :3, cute poor ushiwaka)

___

Atsumu x Nishinoya

1. All the things I love about Yuu by KilluCoulomb

Atsumu Miya is fixated in Nishinoya. The way the boy acts, talks, plays. He Carefully observes from afar, but he slowly warms up to the Libero. Friendship becomes more and more intimate. Atsumu realizes Nishinoya is not that simple guy he met three years ago. And he loves it.

(pro volleyball players AU)

2. i'll see you then by noyabeans (snowdrops)

Nishinoya Yuu and Miya Atsumu build a rivalry and something more.

“Oh, it's Karasuno’s libero,” he says, mildly surprised to see Nishinoya’s face staring back at him from the brochure, grinning wide with his arms folded over his chest.

Contains spoilers for the current manga arc, up to chapter 380.

#oisuga #kurotsuki #oikawa x sugawara #kuroo x tsukishima #iwasuga #iwaizumi x sugawara #ushijima x oikawa #ushioi #atsunoya #haikyuu!!#fic recs

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