#human au in heavy quotes

[sm-baby]

IRON. SON.

[zzoguri]

safe haven (how much longer do we have?) ➵ jacob bae

jacob bae x reader, slight lee hyunjae x reader

you can only hope for more tomorrows with jacob.

genre/warnings ➵ strangers to lovers, heavy angst with a happy ending, touch of fluff, afab reader (no-gendered terms), lowercase intended, apocalypse au, hurt/comfort (both physical and emotional), depictions of grief, descriptions of gore/blood, use of guns, allusions and discussions of suicide, minor character deaths, hyunjae is your ex, changmin and kevin appearance :'), elements of the last of us (don't support neil druckmann!), mostly written in past tense (because u're remembering!)

word count ➵ 6.2k words

inspired by ➵ “anaheim” by niki, “are you happy?” by @wavesmp3, “love wins all” by iu, episode three of hbo's the last of us, and “you’re gonna carry that weight” quote from cowboy bebop

a/n ➵ my life changed forever reading shawna's piece. thank you for letting me write a piece based on your work (if you haven't read it, go check it out!) just like you, i am a sucker for apocalypse aus :')) hope i did justice to your beautiful work. anyway, love wins all coming out yesterday was a miracle because it's definitely made for this fic </3 thank you to @heemingyu and @deobienthusiast for betareading a bit of this! if you enjoyed reading, please do reblog and leave feedback!

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time was the one thing that occupied everyone’s minds. it held value, something that shouldn’t be wasted, and people revolved their lives around it.

questions flew around with every tick and tock—what day is it today? when’s your next doctor’s appointment? how long has it been since you’ve last seen your friends from high school? until when does this meeting last? 

as the hands of the clock continue to rotate, the calendar pages would flip along. birthdays were celebrated with every revolution as candles on cakes were lit up, awaiting the puff of celebrants as they wished for their desires. holidays were ones to look forward to; people dressed up to celebrate periods of the year that mattered to them while others slept in until noon. and days were spent counting down until graduations, where caps with tassels would fly to the expanse of blue and orange as cheers and sobs sound throughout.

but now, no one keeps track of time. clocks stopped moving and calendars weren’t produced annually. once the surge of the infected took over, grabbing on humans, taking them away from the lives they’ve lived, everyone ran like they were running out of time. with every second that passes, people are ridden with possibilities of how they might bid farewell to life itself—would it be through the hands of the infected or their own?

now, only one question echoes within their minds: how long do we have?

yet, the clock continues—tick, tock, tick, tock. it keeps going, and going, and going, like how everyone expects it. while everyone seemed to let time go, you still kept track of it all: birthdays, holidays, a graduation you never had.

the outbreak hit two years ago on the day of hyunjae’s graduation. cheers turned into screams. white togas and diplomas were splattered with red. the lively became lifeless.

you remember hyunjae’s hand in yours, fingers gripping you as if you were his life, as you charged out of the gymnasium, legs keeping up with the speed of his. you darted off to nowhere as images of the infected tearing people apart took up every block, all the way from skin to bone.

and while it was a rush of tragedies, hyunjae was the only hope you had.

“keep your eyes on me,” he glanced at you, eyes off the path as he met your gaze. “don’t look at them. only look at me.”

it was impossible to ignore the wails that filled your ears, but you would repeat his words—his soft-spoken voice—to drown them out.

by nightfall, you and hyunjae found yourselves in a motel room, skin cleaned from blood splatters and dressed in clothes that engulfed your figures, and in each other’s arms on a twin-sized bed. the duvet that wrapped around you two is thin, not at all keeping you warm for the night, but the warmth of hyunjae was enough to provide you a sense of security—stability amidst the ever-changing world.

he whispered into the crown of your head, words meant to dispel your fears, all while you sobbed into his shirt. there was nothing that he could do but stay strong for you.

and for a few days, that room acted as your safe haven. the time spent within those four walls is the life you imagined your future with hyunjae. it would’ve been in a two-story house with a garden where a singular orange tree stands, lounging on the couch as you played movies to fall asleep to, but all you had was an old room with a carpeted floor with unrecognizable stains and a bathroom unable to fit two.

yet, you would choose this over anything. even if it meant eating instant noodles for every meal or sleeping on a mattress that ruins your backs, you would choose this if it meant hyunjae would be with you.

still, time continues to move. hyunjae knew that you both couldn’t stay in that room or else the infected may reach you. so when you both went to bed on that last night, you outlined his features from the space between his eyebrows all the way to his lips, and you spent that time memorizing his warmth to carry with you for the rest of your life. you could only hope that he stays with you until the end.

after a month passed, you and hyunjae met changmin, an injured boy who only wanted to live. at first, hyunjae was hesitant to take the stranger in, but you wouldn’t allow yourself to live with the idea of abandoning someone in need. in a world where the infected have taken over, it only seemed right to help out others, save them from a fate they’re not ready to meet.

what started off as a pair turned into a trio. you’ve learned more about what it takes to survive in this life. long gone is the need for money to buy necessities; you need to scavenge if you want to live in an infected-ridden world. thanks to changmin, you and hyunjae got to learn about how to find supplies in every building that you pass on the journey.

but it’s not enough to know where to find food and bullets. hyunjae decided that it was only right to teach you how to use a gun. with every morning that came, you two spent hours learning how to hold, reload, and fire.

“don’t worry,” he told you as his chin hovered over your shoulder. you both stared at the tin can situated on a stack of boxes only a few meters away. “you won’t have to worry about fighting alone. i’ll be here with you.” as you exhaled, your eyes zeroed in on the target. “now, shoot.”

six months have passed, and you were happy that you were still a trio. changmin became your best friend over that time. his laughs were enough to shine glimmers of hope onto you. you were glad that you decided to help him off the ground and tend his bullet wound that day.

until you found yourselves retreating from the horde of infected.

time moves at a constant speed but it can become swift if it decides to. when you and changmin reached the doors leading to safety, you remember seeing hyunjae fighting off those who were once like you, bullets firing at their heads. you remember your screams, telling him to run to you—go to where it’s safe—so that you can keep having tomorrows with him.

yet, hyunjae glanced at changmin, nodding at him before his eyes met yours. you watched how his mouth moves, a soundless three-word phrase leaving him before the doors shut before you. you would’ve pried them open but changmin kept his arms around you, holding you back from letting the infected reach you, from letting hyunjae come back to you.

the wails that left you are enough to attract the infected. if only the infected were to burst through the doors, grab onto you and bring you to hyunjae, then maybe you would stop crying. yet, changmin dragged you away. you never saw him as your best friend after that.

a month passed, and you still refused to talk to him. the boy tried to strike up a conversation with you, trying to earn your laugh like he used to, but he was only met with a cold shoulder. with every brick he put, you smashed your sledgehammer against it, dispelling any hope he had in rekindling his friendship with you.

the two of you learned to live in silence, fighting for survival while dealing with the loss of the one who would always bring you both to safety.

until you came across another boy who pointed his gun toward you. his defensive demeanor reminded you of hyunjae, and you wondered if this was his doing—his reincarnation. but before he could pull the trigger, changmin saved you from meeting your fate.

somehow, the duo had turned into a trio once more. you still refused to talk to changmin, but would eavesdrop on the conversations he shared with the stranger. you learned that the new addition is named jacob.

but even the stranger wasn’t enough to fill the void that hyunjae left. with every nightfall, when the soft snores of the two boys filled your ears, tears streamed down your face as sobs threatened to spill out of your mouth. the palm of your hand wasn’t enough to muffle your weeps. behind your eyelids, hyunjae’s last words to you play on repeat—the ones he failed to say, the ones you’ll never hear again.

maybe if you didn’t leave that motel room then he would’ve still been with you, arms finding their place around your waist as he trails kisses all over you. if the outbreak didn’t happen, then maybe you would be living in that two-story house with him. maybe you would wake up to a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice by the bedside table and the warmth of his lips on your forehead. and maybe you could finally tell him yes before he slips the silver band on your finger—you could’ve grown with him until your hair turns grey.

the weight you carry never got lighter with time. the void continued to consume you whole with the goal of ripping you apart. as another month passed, another life was lost—not to the infected but to the raiders.

“changmin, you have to stay with me.” those were the first words you told him since hyunjae’s death. crimson continued to spill out of his abdomen through the gaps between your fingertips in the same way tears flow out. “jacob! find gauze, betadine, anything!” you never glanced at the stranger, keeping your gaze on your best friend whose eyes continued to droop.

still, changmin caressed your face, thumb wiping teardrops. as he slowly entered territories that you both knew he would never escape, he grinned at you one last time. “i missed hearing you. i’m glad you’ll be the last thing i hear.”

but you tried to tell him that you couldn’t be the last voice he heard. it should’ve been with someone he can imagine his future with, maybe in a two-story house or a cramped flat in an apartment complex. he deserves more tomorrows in the same way hyunjae did.

but time continues to move. it took him away from you in a matter of minutes, slithering away without a second thought and no regard for the value of life, and all you were left with was his temple—still, lifeless. as you sobbed into his shirt, still holding the wound, the warmth of jacob’s hand stayed on your back, moving along with your wails. 

now, you carry the loss of two. it never got easier with time.

jacob still sticks with you. it only seemed right. stay strong in numbers as you wander off to nowhere, grasping at the loose ends of survival.

two weeks have passed. you and jacob got used to the new dynamic; while he goes hunting and you’re tasked with scavenging, you both played your roles in combat, ready for any raid or horde. when night would come, you both took shifts, keeping watch while the other got some shut-eye.

until that one evening.

you recall the sounds of wood crackling from the fire. it stood strong against the breeze—burning, shining—surrounded by greens that latch on browns. hues of amber cascaded over your skin, painting you with warmth—it’ll never compare to the one you craved. your eyes drifted to jacob who sat across from you, his eyes trained on the fire as he rubbed his palms together. perhaps he craved the same type of warmth you longed for.

“we used to be three.” his eyes snapped towards yours. “before you came, we used to be three—changmin, me, and—” it rose in you like bile, wanting to escape but never leaving. “we were three then.”

you glanced at the fire that continued to burn. “we met changmin a month after the outbreak, spent six months together until—” the claws of the void struck against your throat, holding you back from sharing with the stranger what your life was before he came. while you never found the right words to say, jacob never pushed, letting you say what you wanted to share while filling in the blanks on his own. 

“i resented changmin after what happened.” you moved your gaze to jacob whose eyes never left you. “refused to talk to him. refused to forgive.” and you remember how you hesitated, taking a deep breath in before sputtering out the next sentence. “refused to accept.”

nine months ago, the outbreak didn’t happen. nine months ago, you were attending hyunjae’s graduation. nine months ago, you two were imagining your tomorrows—together, for eternity.

and those nine months fractured all hopes and dreams; the glass is now littered with cracks, ready to burst into shards.

“but i think about the last time we saw changmin,” the image of him sitting in front of you all frail, treading the line between life and death, flashed in front of you; it’s quick but strong to remind you of what’s lost. “and i wish i could’ve learned how to forgive during those two months.”

but it was an impossible request. how could you ever forgive a boy you’ve known for only six months for taking your future away? how could you forgive a world that took him away? how could you forgive and live?

and still, you did.

you left it at that. they were enough. so when you told jacob that you’ll take over tonight’s shift, he never asked to hear more. instead, he laid near the campfire as you keep an eye out.

and once enough hours have passed, you allowed yourself to sob like other nights. the breeze that passed through branches reminded you of changmin; rustling leaves imitated the giggles of the boy you’ve only known during the apocalypse.

the wind that grazed against your skin should’ve been a nuisance, but the warmth of the fire wrapped you up like the duvet in that motel room. and you don’t complain—it’s the only part of hyunjae you have left.

the heat was enough to last you the night, but the chill of reality sent you back to the void.

that night, jacob listened to your sobs. not one of you got enough rest for the journey.

another two weeks went by. you two got into a better groove of the routine; instead of hunting and scavenging in silence, you and jacob found yourselves talking more about your lives before the outbreak. you learned that he was born the same year as hyunjae, and he shared that he had plans to pursue music.

“if the world finds a cure to this mess, you have to promise me that you’ll get me front-row tickets to your first show.” it was a joke. in what world could there be a cure for the infected? but the wishful thinking of what could be—what could’ve been—is all you had left.

still, jacob promised you that.

that night, you two stayed in the living room of an abandoned house. instead of lighting the fireplace, candles were placed on the coffee table. they shined in the middle of you two, you who stayed on the couch and jacob who sat on the mattress lying on the floor.

“where were you?” his eyes met yours. “on the day of the outbreak, i mean.”

he leaned back, hands resting on the mattress before he looked once more at the wax that continued to melt. “it was my graduation.” it hit you like a sudden downpour on a sunny day. “i was next in line to go up on the stage until the infected came.”

and when you said the name of the university, his gaze met yours as his shoulders stiffened. “m—my hyunjae.” it’s the first time you spoke of his name, and the sight of jacob’s eyes widening over it was enough to speak for himself.

“i—i didn’t know,” he whispered, but his words were loud enough to shatter glass. “i only spoke to him a few times. he spoke of you with so much love.”

your heart skipped beats; it should’ve been enough to send you off into the same territories where hyunjae and changmin now stay. your mouth turned dry as jacob’s voice morphed into radio silence.

before you knew it, the two of you left the information to hang in the air as you tried to drift into slumber. the clock continues to tick. minutes turned into hours; time moves like it usually does once more.

yet, you were stuck in the same gymnasium, fixing hyunjae’s toga as you scolded him about how wrinkled it’s become—hey! you’ll go up on stage soon. we can’t take pictures of you like this. despite your words, he smiled at you before grazing his lips on your temple—his silent way of telling you the three-word phrase.

in a split second, you were off the couch. you barged out of the house, clutching your chest as the knot constricted your throat, and your feet dragged you off to nowhere. every sound has turned into a buzz—only the voice of hyunjae being the one clear thing amidst the hysteria.

before you knew it, you stood before a horizon of green. it takes only one step into the woods, alone with no protection, for you to meet your demise. you would’ve charged into it in the same way you would’ve charged out to save hyunjae that day.

all it takes is one step, and—

“what are you doing?!” a pair of hands gripped your shoulders, spinning you around until you were face-to-face with the last form of life that you know of. his breaths were short as his fingers dug into your arms. “you can’t just rush out in the middle of the night! i woke up worried sick.” his eyebrows knitted in frustration. confusion. distress. 

the voice was caught in your throat. how does one begin to unpack the baggage they’ve learned to carry? when the items they bring are revolting, rotten, repugnant, how does someone not feel shame about showing all the tattered-up objects? how do you learn to open up to someone you’ve only known for three months?

your hands trembled; you’ve carried the weight of it all for too long.

in that split second, your nose met the juncture between his chin and shoulder. the material of his shirt against your cheek allowed you to bathe in what you miss—the hand of changmin that once caressed your face, the lips of hyunjae that lingered with every kiss. all the moments that you hoped time would freeze just for you lives in the boy you stick with for survival.

all it took were jacob’s hands to rest on the lower side of your back for the tears to begin their stream. the sobs spill out. for once, they weren’t muffled like those other nights. they sounded throughout the space that surrounded you two. you allowed yourself to drop the baggage only for a few minutes.

jacob took you back to the house that night, allowing you to sob about all that you’ve kept under the wraps. when sunrise came, you found your legs mixed with his as his arms remained wrapped around you, and your ear pressed against his chest. the sound of his breathing is the one reminder of what a safe haven is. 

half a year went by. jacob still stays by your side. the baggage got lighter.

it should’ve been the same routine; jacob goes off to hunt while you scavenge, and you’ll take turns on the night shifts. but that night shifted something between you two—stolen glances, quiet giggles, linked fingers.

two months have gone by. the moon shined through the trees, their shadows cascading on an abandoned cabin that you and jacob decided to stay in for that night.

it should’ve been the same set-up as other nights spent in abandoned houses; you’ll sleep on the couch while he sleeps on a dragged-out mattress. instead, he sat with you on the couch, your back resting on his chest along with his hand staying on your arm. 

a lit candle rested on the table; its amber tones painted the jacob’s skin—close to the fruit tree that stands in your lost future.

“what would you do if there is a cure to this?” you watched how his fingers danced across your skin, calloused from plucking guitar strings or wielding a gun. 

jacob’s chest rumbled against your back as he hummed. “what would you do?”

a giggle left you as you looked at the boy. “i was the one who asked you first!”

he shot you a grin as his hand slipped into yours. the candle continued to burn; it did a poor job of giving you light and warmth that night. but he did it all—one smile. one exhale. one indication to show that he lives.

“travel, maybe? or i’ll go back to writing music.” you nodded at his plans before looking back at the light source. “what about you?”

“i don’t know.”

there was no point in going back to university after such a catastrophe. if anything, the year spent surrounded by the infected, fighting for survival, has shown you that there’s more to life than the perpetual cycle of working a nine-to-five.

so…

“i would settle down if i could.” the wax continued to melt. “i think i’ve seen enough of the world. for once, i just want to stay home, indulge in my hobbies, live the life that i want.”

his breath grazed the top of your head. “with someone?” and suddenly, you became aware of it all—the heat that emitted from his palm, the movement of his chest against your back, the gravity of his question.

the words get caught in your throat. your heartbeat rang in your ears. for the first time since hyunjae’s death, you considered it. 

“with someone.”

before you knew it, his hand caressed your cheek. you were forced to meet his eyes—they glistened with devotion. he leaned forward, his breath grazing your skin while you held in yours. you didn’t miss how his gaze flickered to your lips before he met your eyes once more.

then, he held back. it’s a choice, one only you can make. but when your eyes shut, it’s a quiet plea—a silent yes.

his lips met yours. 

the warmth that blossomed in your chest wasn’t like the one in that motel room. not like the embrace of the one you’ve lost. it was one of all seasons—changing with the weather, bringing comfort throughout the everchanging times.

it’s a perpetual cycle of fighting for survival. you’ll endure through it all.

a month passed by, and you came across another boy on the journey. he’s named kevin, and he told you of a safe haven located in the town that you and jacob grew up in.

for a moment, it was an internal debate—should you go back to where the downfall started? can you go to where the memory of hyunjae still lives?

but one glance at jacob was enough to settle it. the three of you embarked on your journey.

you remember that day. it was a walk with the goal of finding a car to make the journey back an easy one. the heat of the sun prickled against your skin, but you still kept your arms crossed.

“are you two together?” kevin asked, causing you to whip your head towards him. your eyes met jacob’s for a split second—confusion, dejection—before they landed back at the stranger who kept his eyes on the path you took.

“no, we aren’t.”

for the rest of the journey, it was quiet.

sundown came, and you found yourselves in a convenience store for that night’s shelter. jacob was in charge of taking the night shift, allowing you and kevin to rest up. when the stranger went off to sleep on the makeshift bed, you were left alone with jacob.

you watched how he cleaned his gun with a rag stained with dark splotches. the moon gleamed through the window—it cannot compare to how jacob shines.

you needed to get some sleep is what you tell yourself. with one spin, you were about to make your way to where you’d sleep for that night.

“are we really not?” you halted in your tracks. you couldn’t look at him. “did it mean nothing?”

not a single answer left your mouth. your eyes remained straightforward, refusing to meet his gaze.

the warmth vanished with a lack of an answer. instead, it was replaced once more with the cold—the void—that attempted to consume you whole.

and when a scornful chuckle left jacob, you knew that you’d burnt the bridge. you walked away, leaving him to do his job, bidding farewell to the closest form of a safe haven.

two weeks went by, and another goodbye had to be done. kevin stood in front of you two, a grin on his lips while tears streamed down his face. his arm was out, revealing a bite mark. the veins near the wound had already turned black. he would’ve turned in a few hours.

“go out.” those were jacob’s first words to you since that night in the convenience store.

you remember the last thing you told kevin before you left the room—you’ll get to your safe haven. the sobs that spilled out of him are ones you’ll never forget. and when you shut the door behind you, it took 20 seconds until you heard a gunshot. 

the weight got heavier once more.

another two weeks went by, and you and jacob found yourselves standing in front of the remains of a safe haven. the fences were torn down. streaks of dark red littered over pavements. not a single sight of a soul lived.

still, you two trudged your way through the town, all the way until you reached jacob’s house. like others, his was abandoned. the cream walls were littered with red strokes and vines. when you both entered, you didn’t miss how jacob’s eyes lingered on a photo hung on the wall—a picture of him, his brother, and his parents.

you gave him all the time he needed to explore, to sit with the mess, while you stayed in the living room. as you sat on the couch that had gathered dust, you caught sight of a bowl of plastic produce that rested on the coffee table. it held a variety of fruits whose paint had chipped: watermelon, chestnut, and fig.

but amidst the crowd of old, torn-down, plastic fruits, a pear and an orange leaned against each other as grime collected on them. once your hands reached out to the fruits, you pulled them apart—a mess of green and orange stained the two.

he came back to you in 30 minutes, eyes glistening with tears. yet, he only gave you a nod, and you two went to another house. 

you then stood in front of your old house with jacob by your side. weeds grew in the front yard, and the wooden exterior has turned a few shades darker. silence settled between you two. 

to be back in a place you grew up in, where all your memories live, is a process—a grieving one. being face-to-face with the damage brought by the infected can only remind you of what you had and could’ve had.

and once you made your way to your childhood room, you were reminded of all your hopes and dreams before the outbreak. dust rested on top of books. the laptop on your desk had no charge. potted plants have withered.

when you approached the picture frames found on your table, your hand darted out to a photograph of you and hyunjae. there was no occasion when that picture was taken—the fact that you two were together was enough for it to be remembered. memorialized.

as you made your way back down the stairs, you saw jacob crouched in front of the console table with eyes. trained on photographs. “was this your high school graduation?” you approached him and saw the picture he was referring to, you who stood beside hyunjae with a big grin as his lips were on your temple.

“yeah,” you said as you crouched beside jacob. “we knew each other back when i was a freshman.” your fingers trailed on the wooden frame, gathering the dust before flicking it away. despite your efforts, it was still covered in grime, but you didn’t mind. 

“and you stayed together since?” all you did was hum. “did you find anything up there?”

for the first time since you entered your old house, you looked at jacob and he met your gaze. your eyes trailed his features. the eyes that speak of a thousand words. the lips that once kissed yours.

and it hit you like the gunshot that filled your ears, the breeze that rustled the leaves that one night, the doors that shut close. it was 20 months since the outbreak happened, 13 months since you lost hyunjae, and 11 months since changmin told you his last words—but it was also 13 months spent with jacob, choosing to survive with him. 

“yeah.”

you found a lot of things within those four walls. there were books you once read growing up, stuffed toys you slept with, and the one picture of you and hyunjae; they’re the remaining pieces you have left of a life that was good.

you would’ve kept it all, rebuilt the life that was ripped away by the hands of the infected—

“but nothing to hold on to.”

they’re memories, ones you’ll carry with you, but ones worth moving on from. 

“oh,” he said as his eyes still held your gaze. “okay.”

and with one exhale, you said, “let’s rebuild it, just a place for us two.”

it was a whirlwind of emotions in jacob’s eyes, ones you can’t identify. for a moment, you thought he’d say no. maybe he decided that 13 months was enough. one more day with you would be too much, and—

“okay.” when his hand reached out for yours, linking fingers with you like all other times, you gave him a small smile.

when you and jacob stood up, you made your way out of the house, off to find a place just for you two—a safe haven to last you many tomorrows with him.

a month passed. the safe haven was rebuilt; the fences stood strong with electrical wires and barbed wires, and the town was cleaned of all remnants of grime and blood. the two of you took up different tasks ranging from cleaning, cooking, building, and maintaining the haven.

but while you were okay with a knife, accidents did happen. “fuck!”

“what happened?” you remember how jacob came rushing in, only to see you pressing on the skin around the cut on your finger.

before you knew it, you were sitting down with him as he wrapped gauze around the wound. “jacob, it’s just a cut. i’ll be fine.”

“still, i don’t want you getting hurt.” you watched how his eyes were focused on treating your finger. “i’ll be in charge of cooking now.”

you shook your head. “no, i like to cook. i want to cook for us.” his gaze then met yours, his filled with worry while yours filled with determination. they flickered back to your finger, and his hands busied themselves with covering it up.

once he was done, his hand continued to hold yours. you remember the heat of his thumb as it drew patterns on your hand. he’s etched himself onto you.

his eyes met yours once more, and he said, “okay, just let me help out.” all you gave him was a nod.

another month went by, and you woke up to the sound of gunshots. you remember how hazy your vision was that night, fresh from sleep but panic coursing through your veins. and when you looked beside you to only see an empty spot, you didn’t think twice about rushing out of bed.

when you exited the house, you saw jacob holding his gun, firing at the people who attempted to tear down the haven’s fences. “jacob!” when he looked back at you, you caught sight of the crimson that poured out of his abdomen.

another gunshot was fired, grazing jacob’s leg, and he fell to his knees. you ran to him, reaching out to rest your hand on the wound as you began to sob. “fuck! you have to stay with me.” with his arm resting around your shoulders, you dragged him back to the house.

you set him on the table and moved his hand to hold where he was shot. “hold it.” you rushed to where the medical supplies were stored and gathered whatever you could hold. when you got back, you saw how blood continued to spill out.

you got to work, focused on trying to patch him up—making sure he stays. “you can’t go. i won’t let it happen.” and while your hands busied themselves with treating the injury, you remember how jacob’s hand caressed your cheek, thumb wiping away the spilled tears. 

“in the basement, there’s a piece of paper that has all the codes. if you ever—”

“no, you’ll be okay.”

still, he continued to talk. “if you ever forget the codes, you can always look at the paper. don’t forget that you need to always check the water system every two days, and—”

“jacob!” you croaked out his name in between sobs. “you’ll be okay. you have to, okay?” the more he went on about what to keep in mind, the baggage got heavier. “i can’t do this without you. i won’t allow it.”

because 15 months ago, you would’ve bid farewell to the mayhem. 13 months ago, you hoped for time to drag you away. 12 months ago, you would’ve walked into the forest. but it’s been 22 months, and you were still walking on this earth, choosing to live amidst the chaos—so long as jacob was with you. 

and when you leaned your forehead on his, eyes closed, you felt his breath graze against your lips. “i need you.”

all it took were three words from you. “okay.”

it’s been two months since that happened. the safe haven was rebuilt once more. you and jacob fortified the defense system, hoping they’ll be enough to keep any infected and raiders out. all that matters is that you two were protected—safe—from the chaos.

now, you sit on a couch as you flip through the pages of a book you didn’t have time to read before the outbreak. when all responsibilities vanished, you were able to find enough time to do things you couldn’t do then.

you were ready to get yourself sucked into the world of the novel, but jacob came into the living room with his hands behind his back and a small smile on his lips. “do you remember what you made me promise you before?”

you frown at him, confused, until he shows you an acoustic guitar. “oh my god, you found one?” you put the book on the coffee table.

he takes a seat beside you, body facing towards you as he rests the instrument on his lap. “here, first-row tickets to my first show.” you almost laughed because this is no stadium or club, but a home—one you built with him.

it takes only one smile from him for you to hold it back.

“any song requests?” he strums on the guitar strings, perfectly in tune. it’s almost as if he tuned it before coming to you.

a hum leaves you as you rest your head on your hand propped on the couch. “whatever you want to show me.”

it takes him a few seconds, fingers fiddling with the strings, until he figures out what to play. when he sings out the words—dearest, darling, my universe—you melt like the candles you lit up those nights. as he continues to play a song of a world in hysteria but a love that endures, that’s when you realize what you’ve had all this time.

time is the one thing that occupies your mind. it holds value, something that shouldn’t be wasted, and you learned to revolve your life around it.

it takes you two years to figure out that life doesn’t end after the outbreak—and 17 months to realize that your safe haven is not a two-story house with an orange tree in the garden but the boy in front of you.

when you lean closer to him, his fingers falter, messing up the chords. your hand reaches out to caress his face as your eyes flicker to his lips. you don’t miss how jacob holds his breath, how he stops playing the guitar, how his eyes look back at yours—it’s a slurry of warmth, tenderness.

“i love you.”

all it took was a three-word phrase from you for him to close the distance.

the warmth that spreads within you is like the one you experience in the abandoned cabin. but now, you’re full of hope—a reason to stay—in an infected-ridden world.

now, only one question echoes within your mind: how much longer do we have?

an eternity is what you hope.

perma taglist ➵ @deoboyznet @kflixnet @blankjournal @winterchimez @miusgirl @jenoscafe @sweet-unicorn-world @vernyangel @mosviqu @stealanity @deobi0412 @blue-rainydays @maessseongs

[softandsourcream]

Stop, you’re losing me~ - two

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pairing: idol! yoongi x vet!f reader.

Words: 8,5k

genre(s): angst, hurt- comfort, slow burn, fluff, smut (+18) (not this one tho)

au(s): childhood friends - to lovers, idol yoongi, normal vet reader, entertainment industry, denial and resentment.

Episode warnings: complicated relationship with food, description of diseases, curse words, family drama, grief, loss of loved ones, damaged mental health, a LOT of struggling.

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IMPORTANT: this fic contains a lot of sensitive topics touched upon explicitly. Please, if any of the tags trigger something in you, stop reading. You are more important, and there is much more content you can consume here. Take care please! ♡

enjoy!

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main masterlist

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“Y/N, honey~”

Okay, wait. Here. It was from here where you remembered.

 

You were at home, in the bed that was almost yours. You cry just for that, under your sheets. Lucky you could remain silent; it was almost an empty cry at that point. Automatically, you were crying because that’s what you have to do.

You were exhausted. And you remembered having a bad feeling about all that situation.

“Not ready~”

“It's been a week.” Your mom closed the door, gently sitting on your bed and touching your back with a care that made you cry more. You were already drowning. “Did you think about a therapist yet?”

No. For a lot of things.

 

The first and most important is that you were already starting to improve a week ago. You haven't felt this miserable in months now, almost three. You had started to get up, eat better, and cry less. You talked, you walked, you wanted to laugh, to go out, to go back to work. Everything was fine. You didn't need a therapist.

Oh well, you did. At least you thought about going to one when you were already feeling better. You had the energy to want to be well and for this not to happen. Because the second was that now you didn't have the energy to try to lift yourself up in every way possible.

It was too heavy. But why. Why else would you have relapsed?

“How can you all be so… fine about it.” It wasn't retaliation, because everyone in that house was like that at the time, but you seemed to be the only one still there, and that frustrated you so much that it made things worse.

“We’re not.” You know. “We just know how to-“

“Live with the pain.” You end the sentence, revealing your face slowly to your mother. She looked tired and worried, but she still looked at you with love.

She brushed your hair out of your face, sighing and wiping away your tears softly. It was the only look of pity that you didn’t hate. You allowed it because you didn't have the heart to tell her that it bothered you. She was a mother; she couldn't help it.

“Your brother always told me to take care of you once he died.” She nodded, starting to cry. You haven't seen her cry in a long time. “He assured me that even if I were his mother, I would be able to understand it sooner and miss him differently than you. It's questionable, but that’s what he thought.” She took a breath, as if she had suddenly forgotten to breathe. What was he thinking when he said something like that to a mother? Many times you thought that Kija had no brains to boast about.

"'Don't let her die like this too.' " She quoted, “ ‘If I see her, whatever I end up to, I'm gonna hit her until she comes back to life." I’ll never forget how he told me that.” You smile a little. He also told you that in person days before.

“I've been remembering that non-stop all these months, but I realized that in the end, Y/N, I can't help you if you don't. Not because I don't want to; it's because I'm human, and I don't do miracles, honey.” You nodded like that didn’t hurt you, just because it was true. “I came here to let you know that we love you, we understand, and that if maybe I can’t do anything more for you, if you have a plan, I will always be here for you to help. It’s up to you from here, but you’re not alone.”

He prepared you for his death; everybody knows, what you were doing.

Why now. You were starting to make friends with the feeling that you were fine. You were in that stage of grief that isn’t too tragic.

What might have made you remember the loss as a thing in your life?

Of fucking course.

It took three days for you to use your little desire to continue like this and do something about it. Seun opened his eyes when he saw you entering the kitchen at breakfast, watching your movements cautiously.

“Where’s everybody.”

He blinks, chewing the cereal that was left in his mouth.

“All of them are in school; the rest of them are working.”

“What are you doing here, then?”

“What do you mean?”

“You still live at your parent's house without working? At 28?” He smiles. You were making fun of yourself as you said your age instead of his. He continued eating, calmer. “Embarrassing.”

“Guilty.” He says. “I needed the time, though. Things have been complicated lately.”

You looked at each other, and you thanked him for the gesture with your gaze, taking out a cup to make yourself some tea. Seun worked in Seoul. You didn't see him much, but he had been traveling home very often to see how everyone was doing in general after what happened, to see Jae too, and to be with his family more. Paradoxically, he was a lawyer, a very good and serious one, exaggeratedly contrary to what you were seeing right now, who wore a horrible duck shirt that he had worn as pajamas for as long as you can remember and always left at home, eating colored cereals in the bowl of one of your younger brothers.

When you went, nothing really belonged to you; all your things were already in your respective houses, but there was always room for you. Seun, being the second oldest, had left his room empty a long time ago, but he wore clothes that he had left in case he went.

Being there was like going back in time; you had taken your mother's clothes because you didn't go out much, and the ones you had there were no longer to your taste. The noises in the morning, hearing your mother sing from the kitchen, and seeing how they still danced together from time to time

It was nice.

You ended up eating the remains of yesterday's dinner with him at the inn, in silence. It was difficult for you to eat while like this; it was as if something in your chest prevented you from feeling any kind of human need. You left half the plate, and Seun after seeing that, took a breath.

“Eat that, and I’ll give you a prize.”

"Uh~ surprise me.”

You settled into the chair, ready to really listen to whatever it was. Seun was… you know.

“Dad asked me to take care of the garden outside.”

You frowned deeply, and you laughed because he was serious. “Great. Like when you were seventeen. I woke up with you complaining about it.” He made a face. “How would that be a prize?”

“It’s kind of fun, though. How about you come with me, hm? You don't have to do anything; eat that and just get some sun.

You didn’t eat it. But you go out still.

 

You didn’t even get dressed; you were still in pajamas, sitting on the grass, watching your brother cut leaves to shape bushes. Your father still took great care of that place; you could see that it was even better than before. He quite enjoyed it. You used to sit and look at him this way when you were younger.

“Didn’t know this could be emotional for you. You’re unbelievable.”

You laughed, wiping away your tears. It was stupid; you felt better, honestly.

“Sorry.”

“Sure.” He reached out to place a flower in your hair. It was small, white, the ones that fell from the tree that was right in the middle of everything. You smiled.

“How are you?”

“Better” you were, at least right now.

"Why did you get up today? What’s the occasion, hm?"

He walked away, beginning to pick up the remains on the floor. He was done.

“I just don’t want to feel terrible today.”

“Exiting.” He says this, stretching his back. “You know how hard it’s to force yourself to do that, kid? I am very happy to see you today. It's so brave of you. I'm serious.” It gave you a chill; you weren't used to hearing him talk like that. You simply nodded. “Here.” He gave you another flower; you play with it in your hands. “I'm going in to make lunch; are you coming with me? I can call you when it’s ready.

"No, I'm going to stay here."

Because it was quiet, you heard birds, and it didn't feel like your bed. You were a little desperate when your mother told you to go outside because you would feel better. The last thing you wanted was to get up, but you also hated that she was right.

You didn't open your eyes until you heard a noise that scared you, and it was almost bizarre to see Yoongi, standing with a garbage bag in his hand, looking at you without knowing what to do, giving all meaning to your search for triggers.

 

You blink. Maybe you were hallucinating.

 

Your gardens were together. His family hasn’t moved in all these years. The only thing you knew was that it was their property now, not like yours, which still rented the place. It had more floors than it used to, and instead of having old red wood walls like it used to, it was white and pretty. Yoongi had made sure that his family lived well. Many years ago, the house had been in constant repair; inside, it must have looked different too, but its patios still had no division.

Because they were neighbors, best friends, and family, sometimes they got together right there; why separate it? If they completely trusted each other, they could see each other more that way.

 

Why was Yoongi still in Daegu.

 

You couldn't find enough reasons for him to still be there. He must have been very busy doing his things, far, far from there, far from you.

And it was overwhelming to see him in that garden where you once saw him. It was difficult for you to make yourself believe that this person brought back that ugly feeling of looking like a lost cat.

You touch your chest.

He bowed. You had to cover the sun with one hand to be able to look at him better, and respond in the same way.

“You’re still here.” You say it quietly. 

Yoongi had those eyes, unkind ones. 

That and a sleepy look. He had always had them. If you hadn't known him since forever, you were sure that you would never have spoken to him, and if he did, you wouldn’t feel like speaking to him or maintaining any type of contact with him just because of his look. It was heavy, as if he was constantly having the worst time of his life, but by nature. His father had the same eyes and the same attitude; they communicated nothing with their expressions. At least that was what you knew—what you had stuck with.

But he looked at you in a way you didn't understand right now. That was one thing you didn't understand about the new Yoongi. Before, you used to catch him better because, although he expressed nothing with his eyes, you were the only one who could know how; you could read him in a certain way, and now he was just strange.

Softer. Almost warm but intimidating.

“Hm.” He didn’t move. “What are you doing, Park?" It was a mocking question, almost as if your brother had asked it, but with less emotion and coming from him, of course.

“Sunbathe.” You look dumb trying to look at him. The sun wouldn't let you. “It’s healthy from time to time," he tilted his head. “You need a little bit too. You’re too pale.”

He smirks, looking away, almost like taking the courage to ask. “Can I sit there, then?”

You analyzed the space with your eyes narrowed because you were trying to identify the natural division that existed between his patio and yours. Right on the floor, a few meters from you, there was a fairly thin cement line that divided the two spaces. You pointed your finger at it, moving a little closer so he could see it.

“Don't cross that line, and you'll be fine.”

Yoongi also squinted his eyes, looking at what could barely be seen on the ground. It took him a few seconds, but he managed to spot it and neutralize his gaze, lowering the hand he was using to block the sun coming from above. He snorted before approaching in silence.

You had forgotten what he looked like, and you wanted to say that during the day, with the sun on his face and casual, white clothes, he looked even better. He glows, and you want to punch him in the face.

“You don't fit in here anymore.” You said it simply. He leaned on his hands, leaning his body back, understanding that you didn't mean it with bad intentions. It was simply an observation, but he still didn't quite understand it.

“What do you mean?”

“Here, in Daegu.” He loses his eyes. “You look... expensive.”

You made him laugh unintentionally. Genuinely, he even sat properly so he could look at you. You were facing each other, a considerable distance away, divided by a line of asphalt covered by grass, but there it was.

“What?” That question makes you feel stupid.

“I don’t know, just- you look like you belong to another place. Too handsome and well dressed to be here.

“Ah~ handsome, huh?”

“Yes, Yoongi, too handsome.” It was a fact; he wasn’t stupid. He knows he’s attractive. You played with the flower between your fingers, feeling your heart begin to pound. You didn't even know why; you were sure he knew it wasn't his intention. You heard him laugh again. “You know what I mean.”

At least, you hope so.

“Maybe I don’t belong here anymore.” He says. When you looked up, he was playing with the grass between his fingers. “I don't feel welcome, either.”

“What are you doing here, then.”

He looked at you from there, raised his eyes for a few seconds, then closed them again. “I want to spend time with my family before enlisting. Hyung it’s going on his honeymoon in a few days, and... well, I'm running out of time.”

You had forgotten that.

You had to fight a lot not to ask when he was leaving, because it was two years, and although you hadn't seen him ten years ago, in a way you also had him constantly in your face, always. Now you wouldn't see him at all.

It was none of your business; why would you ask?

“That’s good.”

“You’re still living in he-?”

“Y/N, honey, hello. I thought you had returned to Busan since I didn't see you leave the house. You look tired; are you okay?”

You jumped for that.

“Hello, Mrs. Min. I’m, thank you.”

You had always been surprised by how intimidating that woman seemed to you and how much she loved you. She seemed more loving right now; maybe her age had made her softer, but in her younger days, every time she spoke to you, it was terrible for you. She always spoke to you as if she were making fun of you, with the most beautiful voice you had ever heard and the most studied words there were for a cordial conversation. Over time, you learned that it was genuine happiness, like right now.

“Then why-“

“Mom.” Yoongi stops her, and you realize.

You looked bad, perhaps unstable enough if it was at first glance. You did look tired; you hadn't slept well in months; you were still in your pajamas; and your hair was tied up. You hoped it wouldn't matter to you; you wish it were that way.

You had a flower on your head, at least.

“It's okay.” You told him, more for him than for her, and he looked at you, remaining silent for a few seconds. When you heard the woman's voice again, you were still sharing a look, surprisingly.

“Sorry. I was about to go to your house. I know your mom's working, but Seun it’s at home, isn’t he?” You finally looked at her and nodded, smiling slightly at her.

“Yeah.” It was weird, almost like she was checking to make sure you weren't alone. “Do you want me to leave her a message, Mrs. Min?”

“Oh no! It’s okay. I'll go tonight, but also," you take a deep breath. “It was just to invite you all to dinner tomorrow. Jae will be leaving in a few days, and the rest of his time will be spent with friends, so we can have dinner as a family.”

“I- don’t know. I’ll ask them-“

“I'm telling you, honey.” And you wish she didn’t. “Would you like to come? I know… You've had a tough time, and in the whole year you've been here, I've only seen you twice. We want to help.”

There it is. And just because you wanted to get out of there as soon as possible, you smiled slightly and nodded. You only had those types of reactions at the beginning, when the topic was mentioned. You hate to have them again now. It was directly a discomfort that made you want to sink into the ground because it made you cry instantly and peel off your skin in one go. It was extremely uncomfortable.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want. Just think about it, okay?”

You said your goodbyes; she kissed your forehead and left, leaving you two alone again in an awkward silence. Yoongi didn't have pity in his eyes now, but it was as if he had been reminded of something he had done wrong.

“I can tell them you couldn’t make it.”

“No need to.” You tore up the grass by a handful. Why did everyone think you couldn't do anything for yourself? “I will go. I miss your father's cooking.”

“Okay.” Another silence. “I’m sorry about that. She doesn't have any bad intentions; she cares. She doesn't even treat me the way she treats you."

You smiled a little, and for some reason, your heart started to beat less hard. Just as fast, but it didn't make you want to die. And you didn't like that.

“No problems.” You say, getting up. "It looks like I do fit in here anyway.” You shook yourself for nothing exactly; it was just to feel less uncomfortable as he watched your movements, and you looked at him as you walked to the entrance of your house. He had a lopsided smile, soft eyes, and the flower Seun had given you between his fingers. “you still have twenty minutes left.”

He smiled at you, knowing that you were running away. Still, he didn't stop you.

 

That was one. The next one was a little less exciting.

 

—

You weren’t an events' person.

Not because you felt too bad to attend social things; in fact, you had discovered that it was very efficient at not making you think too much. Being alone was the worst thing you could do, but you didn't like going. It felt almost like a charity event since Kija died; at least that's how it felt. Seun told you it wasn't like that at all, but you feel like it.

Like a charity object.

 

They give you extra food, extra attention, extra compliments, and the comfiest chair. And it was nice sometimes, but today you didn’t want that to happen.

"So... you want the red one or the purple one?” You held them both up, showing them to your sister in the mirror.

“What do you think?”

“I think… I like the purple one.” She didn't seem to like your decision, so you had to convince her. “ Look, it has flowers and sparkles inside. “You’ll look cool, don’t you think?”

“But it doesn't match my outfit~” Hyunji whines, and you smile, pushing away the purple hair tie to comb her hair into a ponytail again. You'd end up convincing her anyway.

“What do you mean? You have purple here.” On her shirt. It was yellow on its own, but it had purple bubbles, and even though the basic style doesn’t work like that, it seemed to make sense to her child's brain.

“You’re right… Okay!” She says, playing with her doll again.

Living with children always makes you wish life was that easy sometimes.

Hyunji has a twin too. It was because your father was a twin of another; the gene was there. They were the youngest in the family, and you had been combing their hair all year. It was complicated because every time they did it, they were together, and they reminded you of the dynamic you had had with Kija your whole life.

At that point, it didn't hurt you so much anymore. The first few times, it had been complicated for you to see, but now the other twin was in the other room, and she had no one else to talk to other than her doll. Nara, your other sister, enters the room.

“You’ll go?” You were dressed.

"Uh-hu,” you responded, checking that everything was in order in the mirror. 

“Yoongi will be there.”

"I know." You spoke with the purple garter between your teeth, so your voice came out funny. “Are you going?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Yoongi will be there.” She rolled her eyes as she turned to the bathroom and sat on the edge of the tub, leaning against the wall. You laughed softly.

“Not you too.”

Nara wasn't particularly a fan of his group, at least not at first. Since you hadn't been paying much attention, you didn't really know what the story was like, but apparently, she was starting to listen to them recently, and she genuinely didn't believe that this was the Yoongi she remembered. Now all her siblings were bothering her for refusing to do so.

“I didn’t know! Stop. It's almost overwhelming to see him leave the house sometimes. Last week, I met him twice! Here! In this town, Y/N! He looks like-“

“He doesn't belong in here.” You mumbled, and Nara nodded at you, wrinkling her nose. 

“Nothing good ever happens here; this is too much for me.”

And for you too. But you didn’t say that out loud.

“Go on, kid. Call your sister.” Hyunji thanked you and ran off to find the other twin. You stretched your back.

“Can you tell me what happened between you two?” You scoff, sorting out the chaos you had made to find the purple ribbon in the box your mother had for them.

“Why do you want to know? It’s not that exciting.”

“There's no way.” She got comfortable, almost as if emphasizing her words. “Everybody in this family knows it's something happening to him and you, but nobody asked because they say you stopped crying about it like yesterday.” You laughed at the exaggeration. "Tell me."

“Well.” You took Ara, the other girl who had already been talking about how she wanted her hair, to sit her in the chair that you had placed on the sink counter, so you could see them better. Your mother always did it, and you didn't understand why. It was too unsafe. "The same thing as your sister?”

"No! I want them... like this.” She held up two fingers to you, and you nodded, wetting his hair and carefully untangling it. Ara liked to wear her hair long, so it took you longer, and you were already starting to get tired.

“We were friends, best friends, and things ended. That's all."

It took a second for the teen to sigh and start complaining about how little information you had given her. But you didn't like to talk about it. Not because you couldn't, but because it was something you already had behind you, very far behind. You didn't feel like it was any use to you to talk to anyone about it.

“Did you two kiss at least?"

“Yeah, we did."

Now, she looks excited.

“So you two date!”

“No. We didn’t.”

“Hm, date, but didn’t formalize anything?”

“No.”

“Friends with benefits?”

 

“Hm~ no.”

 

“Fuckbuddys?”

“Jesus Nara. How old are you? Twelve?”

She rolled her eyes, briefly looking at her cell phone”

"Haha. Why are you responding like Seun now? Don't do that; we have more than enough with one.” You responded to something the youngest was telling you, and you handed her a jar of cotton balls that she was asking for. “And I'm seventeen. “So you can tell me if you two were only fu-”

"Well, she, right here it's seven, Nara. So don’t say that ever again.” You saw her grimace in the mirror. “And we were friends. Best friends. Friends don’t- yeah.”

At least that’s what he told you. That you were friends.

“Friends don’t kiss either.”

And you told him that, too.

“I know.”

“Hm.” It seemed as if she didn't want to ask more, perhaps knowing that with the background she had, nothing could end well.

“I’m okay, though. I don't see the need to talk about it now. Yes, I suffered a lot because of it, but that's it; things are the way they are now.”

You had even realized that being around him didn't affect you like you thought. On the day of your wedding, you were sensitive; you knew it; you were predisposed to have a bad time. Now that you are at home with your family, what could go wrong?

“Do you plan to go dressed like that, then?”

“Hm?” You looked at yourself in the mirror in front of you, starting your sister's last ponytail. “What's wrong with it?”

“You’re kidding? You’re literally using mom's clothes.”

Yes, but because yours doesn’t fit in with you like they used to.

“I think it's pretty.” You defend yourself, but not really, finishing your job and taking the creature down from the inn. You heard her say thank you as Nara took your arm. "What-“

“Y/N, I won't allow you to go see your celebrity-famous ex dressed like that, without makeup and wearing ladies' shoes. You even did your hair! Come here.”

“He’s not-“

“Yes, wherever.”

She ended up dressing you in your clothes. Nice clothes of yours that you haven't worn in a while, but they made you feel pretty. Then she tried to do your makeup herself, but you knew how to do it yourself, so you ended up giving in. Your mother scolded them because they were late, and Nara left home with a smile on her face.

 

And you look beautiful. Yoongi thinks that when he saw you enter the house with one tween in your arms and a baby blue cardigan on you,

Of course, you were wearing baby blue.

“Do you think Seun will hit me in the face tonight if he gets drunk enough?” Yoongi asked his brother, receiving the beer he offered him. They could stop by to say hello later. The Parks had always been a lot of people; they had time to greet their parents first. Eun snorts before Jae can say anything.

“He doesn’t have to get drunk for that. You’re currently hurting the two people who matter most to him just by your existence. What do you think will happen?"

He agreed with a gesture, opening the bottle and taking a long drink. Yoongi didn't really like beer, but he would need it today.

“Well, I think,” Jae emphasized himself, shoving another beer into Yoongi's chest for him to hold. He was pulling out some to offer, he assumed. “that you can always talk to them to make them understand. Just like you did with the two of us.”

Make them understand. The problem was that neither of you seemed open to listening, which was fine, but oh well.

Yoongi had taken it upon himself all those days to fix as much as he could in that stretch of time. He had a different way of thinking and handling things, and he was too old to have unresolved issues. He didn't know if it was because he had time before he left or because Daegu and his house, his parents, and the streets where he walked for so long, dragging a useless dream, brought his emotions to the surface.

With you, it was different because he saw you, and it was difficult for him to remember all that he did wrong.

He had been thinking. Enough to have him overwhelmed in so few days, and while apologizing to Eun, for example, for having been so absent in her and her brother's lives, or to his parents, for... exactly the same thing, he saw you, and he knew that it wasn't just him who had to ask for forgiveness.

“They’re good at listening and apologizing for things they have done before. You're a lucky bastard to have to apologize to the most understanding people on earth.”

Eun had found it difficult to forgive him. She spent maybe a week talking to him, thinking about it, talking about it with Jae, and coming to the conclusion that, in fact, he had changed a lot and had given him an opportunity that he was sure he could fulfill. Yoongi was genuinely in another stage of his life, but having things to take care of was exhausting.

He realized more things that night at dinner as well. He didn't know the youngest members of the family, but they turned out to be quite shy compared to all of you, and talking to your family in general was quite easy. Not only that, but he didn't feel strange, out of place, or treated differently for who he was now; catching up with your parents and siblings was nice. Yoongi felt good”

“I would love to, Mr. Park, but I um, I return to Seoul tomorrow. I have commitments there before I leave for service.”

Nara had her birthday in a few days, and they were going to throw her a party. They were inviting Yoongi. He didn't know why his throat hurt from saying no lately. He was never a complacent person.

“Tomorrow? That soon? Will you enlist soon?”

It was impressive how those had been the first words Seun had spoken to Yoongi all night.

“No, it’s- not about that. I have work stuff. recording and practice.”

After that, he started answering questions about his life, which wasn't necessarily a bother. It was okay; he knew your family didn't have bad intentions either. He noticed it.

He also noticed that you barely touched your food.

“Can we talk?” You asked him when you were clearing up the dishes in the kitchen. ‘Sure’ and you took him outside because there was too much noise inside.

"So... you return to Seoul tomorrow."

You look disturbed, but he doesn’t hurry you.

“Hm.” He responded in affirmation. “My last concert is soon, and I have things to take care of before that.”

“Awesome.” 

You look untouched by the situation. By everything. As if you were there by protocol. You hadn't laughed genuinely all night; you just smiled and responded kindly, briefly at that, knowing how much you liked to talk.

He didn't want to say that it had to affect you, but it was as if you had no reaction in your body. Quite the opposite of when he saw you at marriage, where you were with all your feelings on the surface. And he was worried. He has no right to be, though.

“I thought you missed my father’s food.” He tries, and you look confused at him.

“I did it.”

“You barely touch it.”

“Well, that’s none of your business.”

Oh, well.

You covered your face. Yoongi heard you sigh.

“Sorry.” You say.

He nodded, calm. At least trying.

“Didn’t mean to be disrespectful, either. It’s okay.”

Then he waited.

Enough. It was almost ten minutes of pure silence in which you thought about what you would say, and he smoked because you made him nervous and made him want to be doing anything but being aware that you were there.

"Okay," you say. Your words sounded loose. As if you were complaining about something. “Before seeing you that day, at the wedding," you start. “I was fine. I was feeling okay. I was- eating very well, I was starting to go out more, and I had this... silly feeling in my chest that maybe this situation wouldn't mean the end of my days, my life, and that I could do things by myself.”

Yoongi settled back in his place, attentive. It was just that he didn't understand, but he wanted to.

“I knew you would be there.”

“Yeah. Jae, he mentioned something to me.” After the weeding, of course. He would’ve liked to know that, too.

“Yes. So I mentally prepared myself for that, to see you, because it affects me to do so, and I thought I had handled it well that day. It didn't add up to me, because I spent weeks thinking about it and preparing myself for things that didn't happen and would have made everything much worse. I felt bad again, and I started to think a lot about... everything. About Kidja's death and what would happen to me without him in my life. It wasn't even about you. I had gone back to my beginning of grief, Yoongi. And I didn't understand why all the effort I had made to be well was gone so suddenly.”

He blinks. A lot of times.

“I’m- not understanding.“

“I have this theory.” Okay. “When you left, I had this same reaction. I don't really want to compare them because they are different in very big ways, but it reminded me of a lot of things, and seeing you there... I wanted to ask you not to leave. Not again, not like everyone has done it recently, so I can feel better.” His heart was a mess; this information was too much. “And it's stupid, because I don't know you, and I can't trust you, and the fact that you're here does me any good.”

“Y/N.” He insisted.

“I just want to put an end to this.” He could swear you were shaking. “Forever.”

Yoongi's head was going very fast; he felt somewhere else, something surreal. He had lived peacefully for a long time; his heart almost burst out when he heard you say a few more things, like you didn't blame him for anything, but you needed to know that he wouldn't be there anymore, and when you wished him a good life, he went a little crazy because you were leaving.

“Wait!” He was in a rush for some reason. “Just like that? May I… apologize for everything at least?”

He saw how many things went through your head, and he was desperate not to be able to know what. You took your distance before you talked.

“Yoongi, I don’t care.”

Now he was mad. You were acting like a child; resentment was speaking for you. He didn't blame you, at least not entirely, because he knew you were smarter than this. You had more valid, more accurate, and even stronger answers, but you were deciding to run away.

That wasn't what really bothered Yoongi, but the fact that you didn't tell him directly, like you would.

“If you want to live, then do it. But give me a voice too; I'm involved too.”

You snorted and crossed your arms to look at him with a smile on your face.

His blood boiled.

“You know what? Forget it. Have a good night.”

“Oh fantastic.” You move fast, getting closer to his garden but staying on the other side of the small line that divides it. Yoongi stopped, now not willing to listen to anything, nor to say anything constructive, really. “So you’re mad now?”

“It’s just—you're so stubborn! I’m trying to do something here!”

“And what do you want me to do, Yoongi?! Hug you and dry your fucking celebrity tears and tell you that the fact that you broke my heart like it wasn’t a big deal was okay? Oh, so now you want to be involved. You’re living tomorrow! And you want to fix things now? Shut up. You’re doing the exact same thing you did when you left.”

Your voice broke off as you swallowed the lump that had formed in your throat. Yoongi sighed, closing his eyes.

“We both did things wrong; I just wanted to talk about it before… that's all.”

“Everyone suddenly wants to talk about it.” It wasn't cold outside. Daegu wasn't a cold place, but you hugged yourself and cringed as if it were. “Everyone asks me what happened between us and why we stopped talking. Your father apologized to me in your place today too; he told me that whatever happened, he hoped we could fix it.”

Yes, I had told him that too, since it happened years ago, honestly.

“But I don't see any sense in it. Why talk about something that is already broken? Why do you insist? I just want to close this, okay? It was already dead; leave it like this.”

Yoongi took a moment, because it was true. But you look too real in front of him, and that makes him weak.

“So we can heal, can't we? That’s why you are doing this.” Your eyes look at him. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I had no choice.”

"Yes, you did.” You cut him off. “Do things right, or do things wrong. Those were your options. And you chose.”

Because you had always understood that he was leaving and that Yoongi had bigger things to do outside that place, and you were happy about that, but he didn't tell you until one day before he left forever.

He was completely blinded by having signed recently, by having an opportunity, by doing what he liked, and by the promises that were being made to him. Leaving everything behind, his parents, who did not believe in him, his "friends” who constantly told him that he would not make it, in that place that hurt him so much only excited him.

And unfortunately, you found yourself involved just by being part of that place.

“I know. And I’m really sorry.” You closed your eyes, and you denied it slightly. As if you didn't want to hear those words. “I understand that I made a mistake back then; I was young and dumb, and I- didn’t- I’m not the same person right now. I’m really sorry. I mean it.” 

So... insignificant.

“Why.” And that was the question he didn’t want to hear. “So you can feel better about yourself, or because you're doing me a favor? Why now, Yoongi. If you hadn't seen me that day at the wedding, would you have traveled all the way here just to apologize before you left?”

No. The answer was no.

It wasn't something Yoongi thought about much. In all those years, he had convinced himself that he had done what he had done because sometimes in life, you have to be selfish to prioritize your well-being as a person. To put himself first over others because he had a dream, and fulfilling it meant sacrifices.

He hadn't done anything wrong, you know?

Now he apologized only because he saw you sick, and he felt guilty because he knew that it had affected you more than him. He was stupid because he blindly believed that the fact that he apologized would mean something less in your life, even if he didn't know how important you were to the whole thing itself. And you were sad and depressed, and you had big dark circles in your eyes, and you weren't eating well. You didn't really smile, you had a hard time getting up, and he hadn't seen you leave the house even once in all the time you had been there.

 

He felt responsible.

 

He did it because it left him and only him clean. He was being selfish.

He kept quiet. He wouldn't admit it out loud. 

“I spent nine years of my life on pause waiting for you to care enough to come back to this damn city, so we could fix things. To talk about it. But that was nine years ago, and it’s a little too late right now.”

"I'm,” he stops, getting close to you, pressing his words in his throat so as not to have to raise his voice. “apologizing.”

“Well, you’re not forgiven.” He tense.

“For something I made when I was a teen? I don’t know, but you made some dumb shit back then too.

You kept quiet about that. It was true.

“You don’t seem to mind too much, though.”

“And what do you know about how I feel?”

Because maybe the fact that it didn't stop his life completely was something, but ignoring it didn't mean that it didn't hurt him either.

“Nothing.” A whisper. “I just- I don’t know, okay? But that stupid thing you did as a teen still hurts me and haunts me to this day, and you- I continued to believe that you would have the decency to come to my twin’s funeral. it’s- all that, everything, that’s just my fault.” You firmly acknowledged it. “But I would’ve to be so stupid to believe that you are still that person, because people change, and we were very young, and that’s fine, but Yoongi.” You touch his chest, or at least you had the intention because you didn't get to do it. You stopped and backed away a little. “The problem here is that you still don't care enough. You didn't even want to come here of your own free will... And that's fine, but don't come and- try to talk to me as if that were the case. 

Your eyes soften, and so do Yoongi’s, because you do that when you want to cry.

When you cry, you’re completely harmless; that’s what he knows. If you cry out of anger, happiness, or even just empathy, any emotion automatically transforms into sadness. You leave yourself vulnerable; that's why you didn't allow it in arguments; it was losing instantly. 

So you put yourself back together. 

“That's fucked up, Min, and I don't need to forgive you to live in peace; I don’t want this; I don’t need your apologies; I don’t want to have any kind of contact with you because I don’t want you in my life anymore.”

“Then why are you still here?"

He can smell your perfume from how close you two are to each other now.

 

So he realizes.

 

It was difficult for him to have you so close. Because he felt the heat of your body, and your breathing was agitated. He remembered the touch from when he touched you at the wedding and squeezed his hand so as not to claim it again. His eyes traveled to your lips accidentally, twice trying to stop them without success, nor to his body as he moved forward, seeking to kiss you directly. He stops himself with all the strength he had and a little more, but you didn't move either.

You were both too dazed, feeling the tension in the air. As Yoongi looked at your lips again, this time closer to you, as you licked yours, trying to feel something. He breathed hard, like a bull, feeling almost dizzy. Yoongi had never wanted something so much in his life, and you weren't helping.

You looked down too, raising big eyes to the level of his before whispering, ever so slightly, to answer his question, and Yoongi couldn't believe you existed, looking like this.

He was fucked up.

“I still have a lot of appreciation for you, Yoongi.” You say. “And I respect you enough to do things right.” He closes his eyes when you distance yourself. There was nothing more to do. “I'm still here, but doing all this, doing things you don't want to do, lying to yourself, lying to me?... you're losing me.” 

His eyes were wide open. You looked at him with sadness because you were crying. 

“Leave it as it is, and keep the small part of me you still have with you. Because if you keep trying, I’m gone.” 

And maybe that was what you both needed. A closure, a proper goodbye.

 

The problem was that neither of you had said goodbye, technically.

-

Big big brother, lovely and always available, Seun 💪🏻 - 1:32

‘How is it?’

‘Spooky?’

1:40

‘u’re allergic to dust, kid. You need a hand? 👋🏻👋🏻’

There were so many things you regretted in life.

One of them was to regain the closeness you had with Seun having so many brothers to choose from. Because he was sweet, yes. Maybe if you didn't have him there (knowing that you often live in fear of losing the people you love, it was very clear to you), you would miss him a lot, but he could be very annoying at times.

Don't judge yourself by the contact name by the way. He had set himself up that way, and every time you tried to change him, he found a way to make it longer.

You - 1:41

‘Sure, want you here in ten minutes.’

Big big brother, lovely and always available, Seun 💪🏻 - 1:43

‘Don't tempt meee’

‘You know I’m crazy, right?’

You stopped him immediately, telling him that you were fine, that everything looked fine, and that he shouldn't worry.

It was a two-hour trip. And it wasn't a lie that you were okay.

Moving to Busan was your idea; maybe two years before Kija relapsed and got sick, he wouldn't stop getting worse. He followed you with nothing in mind because, unlike you, he hadn’t been able to study anything. His health was weak, and that weakened his mind as well.

You wanted to get him out of that mentality, to meet people, to go out, and perhaps to look for a job that would help him understand that he could do things well. And you did it, or, well, he did. You didn't see much of the many people he had plans with; he worked in a café near your apartment that was still there; they had even remodeled it. He had a boyfriend, money; you two were together, you always laughed.

It was when you began to set up your clinic (because that was what you had gone to Busan for, aside) in the city that he began to cough very lightly, almost like a cold, and when you took him to see the place where you would start to build your first dream, he passed out at night when they were trying to clean the place. After that, he didn't stop coughing until that same cough took his breath away completely.

You thought he would get better, he looked weak but fine. He talked, he ate, and he didn't sleep as much as he does when he gets that sick. The only thing that told you that he was really struggling was the blood in his cough and that sometimes, when he got up to go to the bathroom, he would call you out of breath because just getting out of bed was too much for him. He was in serious condition, but you didn't think you would have him with you for so little time.

“Open that thing, Y/N. You have everything you need. You’re smart, you’re pretty, and your lungs work wonderfully. Sorry you don’t have any excuses.”

He spent the last days of his life there, in that apartment that you didn't want to return to, because now your whole family wasn't sleeping on the floor, nor was your mother's voice singing to him while everyone was sleeping, and he couldn't do it because the pain was killing him slowly, nor was your father offering you help to open that damn clinic.

Kija died two days before opening it, and he swore he would be there when you did. You believed him.

The door to his room was closed now. When you came into the apartment, it smelled musty, and there were many letters on the floor that were passed under the door while you were gone. His shoes were on the shoe rack at the entrance; your mother must have forgotten them when she cleaned, so you sat there when you arrived; you weren't ready.

It was when Seun spoke to you that you decided to enter the things you were missing.

And you clean the place. You dusted, packed your things, and called the clinic to inform that you were going to return to work that week. You were the boss anyway.

Maybe it was you deceiving yourself, but the more you looked for discomfort within yourself, you couldn't find it. You thought that facing that place would be more complicated, but there you were.

In Busan, and in Busan you didn't want to die.

“I trust him.” Kija could barely speak; he was intubated and medicated, sitting right where you were now, waiting for the medication to completely wear off.

You had stopped talking about it hours ago, that was when you understood that your confession had been hanging around in his head.

‘I have been thinking about Yoongi lately. I think I'll- need him when you’re gone.’

“Text him.” He told you.

You had already told him it was impossible. You had even told him possibilities of a schedule of imaginary activities that he would have at that moment.

“Kija, forget it.”

“I trust him.” He repeated. “He’ll come. He cares about you still, I know.”

You had believed him, and you had smiled slightly at the thought of a possibility.

Now you’re disappointed. It was dimly lit, it was starting to get cold, and your hands covered your face because, wrapped in, now, a gray room, you were giving Yoongi tears for the first time in years.

And Yoongi's tears were different from Kija's. They felt old, meaningless, but they weren’t automatic.

You sob, because maybe this way you could do this the last time you cry about it.

—————————•。・. ゜・。_______________

one masterlist

—————————•。・. ゜・。_______________

taglist: @constancelayon @baechugff @wobblewobble822 @honsoolgloss @alienchickenpoop @idkjustlovingbts @jjkluver7 @cuntessaiii @baechugff @junniesoleilkth

[fuckyeahgoodomensfanfic]

Good Omens Fic Rec: in your own time

Aziraphale and Crowley grew up together as next-door neighbours on Hogback Lane, classmates at the local Catholic school, and inseparable best friends. By the age of eighteen, both were hopelessly in love with the other, despite the knowledge that they were doomed to live apart, as Crowley aimed to pursue university study in London and Aziraphale committed himself to remaining in Tadfield, dedicating his life to the Church. After almost twenty years spent away from his hometown, renowned botanist Crowley decides to come and visit Tadfield again at a moment's notice; the purpose of his visit is to speak at a Careers Day for the school he and Aziraphale, now a beloved priest and a frequent helper at the school, attended. The twenty-four hours that follow will change both of their lives for ever.

Length: 33,632 words

AO3 Rating: Explicit / Spice Level 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

Best for: Mostly Safe in Public, After Dark, Human AU

Triggers: None

Read it here, fic by ineffabildaddy

*Minor Spoilers* I'm proud to say that I was the third hit count on this one and I had no idea it was being posted. This is a STUNNING priest AU, and this is going to be a long rec post.

Crowley and Aziraphale are estranged childhood friends here. Aziraphale was put on track to become a priest, and could not walk away. Crowley had to leave and find his own path. Personally, I love that plotline because it gives me a connection to their 6,000 years of friendship that I like to see revisited in Human AUs. We only get brief flashbacks to their youth, but it is enough to know how much they loved each other then. They go through life content, but incomplete. Each aware that their soulmate is out there, but reconnection feels impossible. That magic is not gone yet, and an unexpected reunion was just the spark they needed.

Crowley's portrayal here is especially soft and tender. His blend of anxiety and genuine confidence is as charming as ever, but it's his understanding and acceptance that truly shine. He never blames Aziraphale for the way things have unfolded. There's no punishment for the past from him, only unwavering support and love. He's so loving and safe, praising and doting on Aziraphale with pet names. I know Aziraphale is going to be cared for now.

Aziraphale's relationship to God and the Church was such a gorgeous journey. He was put on this Earth to do good and provide comfort to his community. Just like the canon though he'll need to separate out the Institution (Heaven/The Church) from God. His moral compass is so strong, "heavy, gilded, reliable". He just needed to learn to trust that voice. And not the voice of those who have forced him to conform to their will. The narrative never villainizes Aziraphale for staying with the church. He just needed some separation and someone to catch him. To be shown that love is holy. The church is not God, he will not be destroyed for acting on his love. I won't quote the whole thing but on Crowley's side, there is a stunning description of what he finds holy and worth of worship. That I am going to reread 1 million times. This story speaks to the late bloomers, the closeted, and the repressed—the queers who have hidden and suppressed their desires to conform to please others. It's for those whose lives seem to have slipped by, filled with missed opportunities and immobilizing fear. It holds us close and tells us, "It's never too late, my love." I often get stuck on "lost time", times I've felt I've wasted in my life. So reading, "It's never too late to do whatever it was you were always meant to do, as long as you do it when you're ready. It's never too late to look into the future, to conceive of a world which makes you grin with excitement and banish all dread from your mind." well, it made me emotional okay!!

Oh and it's hot as fuck. So there's also that. Like seriously, it'll creep up on you here. It'll be some gorgeous line about the human condition or whatever, and then the filthiest most delicious line imaginable! It was like an electric shock to me. The confessional scene had me weak in the knees!!!! I can't say enough times I love this story. The first several chapters are safe in public, but you will hit a point that it is not! Proceed at your own pleasure

Read it here, fic by ineffabildaddy

[glystenangel]

hii can i request an eren x reader oneshot of "unrequited" requited love trope pls🥹? just both of them heavily pining e.o but not making any move on it. fluff & slight angst?

have a good day & welcome back xxx

"Unrequited"

Eren x GN!Reader (Modern AU)

tags/warnings: fluff, slight angst, friends to lovers but before the lovers part LOL, pining, quote unquote unrequited love that's actually v requited, T EN SI ON, heavy pining, coffee date, wild af assumptions and a strong case of the misunderstands, & excessive use of italics bc i'm only human

~1.7k words

thanks for requesting, i hope you like<3

_________________

The thing is, Eren likes you.

A lot.

A lot, a lot, a lot, a lot.

But, it’s one-sided.

Whenever you two hang out and in spite of your insistence that you were having a good time, you occasionally get this pained look on your face as if you would rather avoid being seen with him. Let alone just be with him.

It’s not only that, but any time he tried to make any semblance of a move on you, you would give him this pleading look. Shiny eyes and your throat all tense with the breath he could tell you were holding.

Like you were begging him not to tell you.

Because, Eren supposed, you both knew the answer.

He chokes down that heartbreaking assumption every time, bowing his head and changing the subject because the absolute last thing he wants to do is fuck up your already precarious friendship with each other. Sure, you’re perfectly lovely to him half of the time. Affectionate, even. Any other half of the time, you seem…uncomfortable. Unreadable. It reminds him of days that are cold and foggy. He can squint at the shapes outside of his windows, tinted gray from the weather, and guess each vague form to be houses or people against the dim horizon. Though there was no guarantee that even one of those blurry predictions would ever be accurate. He agonized regularly about the fact that the cause of your discomfort is most likely him. Maybe he got a little too close to you sometimes. A bit too flirty.

To be honest, Eren knows that the only way to preserve your friendship is to remind himself constantly that you don’t like him back. That the fog doesn’t have anything in it, just illusions of how he wishes you could be together.

Today, he’s indulging himself freely in the delusion that you’re both on a date.

You had agreed to meet him for coffee. Innocent enough, but when he sees you he can’t help but become overwhelmed by the mere sight of you.

He almost feels guilty, because this is just a totally selfish effort to gaze at the undeniable light that floods into your eyes when he asks about something you like, spot the corner of your mouth lifting before he makes you laugh for the umpteenth time, and to hear the soothe of your voice saying mhm as you listen to him tell a story. You’re beautiful to him, in everything you do.

You smile back once your searching eyes land on his, shimmering emerald and thickly veiled reverence.

Right then and there, Eren decides he doesn't give a shit that he’s being selfish.

That excited, happy expression on your face is more than enough for him.

_________________

You like Eren.

It’s one the easiest things you’ve ever admitted to yourself.

You like him a lot, in fact.

So much so, that you have been secretly cultivating a deep fear that you will ruin your friendship with him. To accommodate that fear and keep your daydreams in line, you do your best to keep hanging out with him and acting like you enjoy just being friends. Even if it means swallowing your feelings at every brush of his hand on your arm or not allowing yourself to look too long at the handsome planes of his finely structured face. It doesn’t help that he’ll suddenly lay the charm on you at random times, trapping you in his seagreen eyes and making you freeze at the most undoubtedly meaningless, offhand compliments that he slips into conversations.

It really didn’t help that he was so nice to you either. Any problem you had, he was there, helping you calm down and talk through the emotions that kept you from feeling your best. Any errand you needed done, any door that needed opening, any walk you wanted company on, Eren was there and offering whatever he could to make your life easier. But that was just Eren, he did that for all of his friends. You don’t think you had ever seen him allow Armin to make any bookshelves by himself or miss any special event that involved his sister Mikasa. With you, it was definitely no different.

Despite your best efforts, he was so attentive that he seemed to notice you trying to keep him at arm’s length, and he often asked if he was making you uncomfortable.

Yes, You always thought to yourself, Yes, you are. I’m in love with you and it’s driving me crazy.

And then you would provide him with a wordless shake of your head.

Truthfully, the careful check-ins he did with you only made you like him even more. It consistently showed you that he respected you, and left your heart beating fast. Caring for others always seemed to be hardwired into Eren’s nature, and you adore that about him.

The reason you had agreed to meet with him for coffee today was purely self-serving. You had seen him a few days ago, but you missed him so much that you had cleared your entire schedule for the day to have coffee with him for as long as possible.

The cafe is busy and the scent of grinded coffee beans is heavy in the air, but you pay no mind to any of it as soon as you catch sight of Eren and begin walking towards him.

You wonder if he missed you too, or if he had invited you just because you said you were available. What if you weren’t even the first person he had thought of? The thoughts make you briefly frown, your feet stopping right before the table.

Eren quirks up a brow in concern, and you note the crinkle in the olive toned skin set in the middle of his dark eyebrows.

“Everything okay?”

The prompt instantly makes you ashamed, how could you have thought of him so poorly? Of course he missed you and thought of you first, it just probably wasn’t in the way you wanted him to think of you. You two are good friends after all. 

Having someone like him in your life is plenty of happiness for you, even without your feelings being reciprocated.

A smile finds its way back to your face and you slide into the seat across from him, “Everything’s great.”

_________________

When you both have your fill of coffee and pastries crusted in sugar crystals, Eren offers to drive you home.

As he steals glances at you from behind the wheel, and you do the same from shotgun, a comfortable silence descends between the broad curve of his shoulder and the elbow you have casually laid across the glovebox.

“I’m glad we’re friends.” He suddenly says, the radiant red of the traffic light lining his face with maroon shadows.

“Me too.” You beam at the sentiment, “But, what makes you say that?”

The light turns green, and you can’t tell if you hear him or the tires sighing as the car regains motion.

“I just…love being around you.” He begins, more gently than you expected, “Even though we’ve been friends for so long, I’m still learning things about you that surprise me.”

You don’t respond, too stunned to, and Eren tilts his head to peer at you over the curve of his cheek.

“In a good way.” He adds quickly, “I admire how you open up and the way we can have fun doing nothing together. Getting coffee’s not as entertaining with other people.”

“Thank you, Eren. I have fun with you too. You’re a very passionate person and it motivates me to live life as freely as you do.”

An embarrassed chuckle escapes him, and he shrugs while keeping his hands on the wheel, “I try.”

The proximity of your elbow to his side feels too narrow to be friendly, but you chance inching a bit closer anyway, “You do.”

Another red light has him slowly braking to a pause, and he turns his chin to face you.

All you can hear is the soft rumble of the engine as Eren stares at you.

His eyes were his most complimented feature, but you don’t think anyone searched as hard for his thoughts in them as you did.

Stray umber strands of hair fall next to his eyes, and the angled grit of his jaw intensifies with every passing second. You wish he would do something, anything besides letting your mind wander and your stomach flutter. 

The movement of his cupid’s bow as he finally talks forces your attention back onto Eren, “I wish you knew..how hard I really do try.”

You puzzle over his words for a moment. The rough echo of them is only interrupted by the next breath he takes, which is deep and expands the muscles of his chest until fluorescent light pools across the material of his shirt. 

“Eren, the light.” You whisper, your voice sounding foreign even to you as you register the hushed words.

Eren blinks, and then you both startle at the car behind you honking their horn.

“Fuck, sorry.” He mumbles, averting his eyes and pressing forward.

The rest of the car ride is quiet, but you’re too busy calming the race of your thoughts and heart to notice if it’s awkward or not.

Once you recognize the road in front of your home, Eren drops you off and walks you to your door, where you wrap him in a hug that he returns just as tightly.

You set your mouth by his ear, “I know you’re trying.”

Although you remain unsure of what exactly he is trying to do, you know that if anyone is trying at all, it’s Eren. 

At that, he relaxes completely in your arms, “I hope so.”

Darkness fades your vision as you close your eyes for as briefly as you can convince yourself to, appreciating his warmth and preparing yourself to be released from his embrace. 

After a few more moments, you let go of Eren and offer him a shy wave.

“We’ll see each other again soon.” 

Eren’s hands find their way into his pockets, and the boyish grin that’s driven you mad since you met him crosses his features, “See you soon, beautiful.”

_________________

Maybe liking each other was a lot for the both of you, but neither you or Eren had any plans of stopping.

_________________

End Notes:

thanks for requesting this!! it really inspired me and i wrote this faster than i normally write🥰 might be a bittt more emo than you wanted, but i couldn't help myself😭😭 appreciate you and hope you enjoyed <333

[juno-of-wonderland]

IDEA IDEA

MULTIPLE HUMANS

ONE YOKAI

My Darling Yokai AU

Y/n / Yuu

a Yokai of many shapes! A Tanuki, a shapeshifter with a mischievous nature

big fluffy raccoon dog Yokai finds out instead of the usual one human master, they have multiple!

whatever will they do!

Kingdoms:

WonderForest: a fauna based kingdom with a red and white coloration (heartsabyul)

Claw plains: a dry and humid desert and Savannah, most beastly humans stay here (SavannaClaw)

The Pirates groves: a Wet and often rainy set of islands that are surrounded by heavy oceans and water beasts (Octovinelle)

The Golden Sands: A glamorous Arabian based location with the main resources of gold in the world! Greedy Yokai live here. (Scarabia)

The Beauty’s Clifside: a glamorous mountain filled with beautiful views and dangerous hunters, made with dangerous rocks at every corner (Pomfiore)

The UnderRealm: a dark and gloomy cave system where souls are said to rest and Yokai are restless (Idgnihyde)

The Fae’s Lair: formerly known as the Dragon’s lair before interbreeding started and became the most powerful yet humble (kinda) kingdoms. (Disomnia)

And a quotes .

“Ace, why do you have a dog here. You’re on duty.”

“It just- climbed up my shoulder and forced me to sit- riddle I swear what the fuck.”

This would be torture, because the youkai have to stay close to the master, unless they all start living together, but it would be painful to stay away from the masters.

[fallenasleepyetagain]

Reveal - Nightmare/Blue Fic

Prompt: Secret Relationship (reveal)

Prompt from: @yearoftheotpevent

Media: Undertale AUs/UTMV

Genres: Romance (but in heavy air quotes), betrayal, dark fic (?), betrayal, human AU, idk what else lol

Characters: King Nightmare, Blue, Dream, Killer, Ink (mentioned), Error (mentioned), Horror (mentioned), Cross (mentioned)

Pairing: Nightmare/Blue

CW/TW - Manipulation, Implications of Abuse, Toxic behavior (?), mentions of violence, mentions of almost dying, being high mention, Nightmare being a piece of work

Other Notes: yes this is my second nightblue piece in like a month im ill for them sorry not sorry also a bittttt darker than i usually write? but i still think its ok also this is one of my most recent fics in it with a time/space jump! i hope its not too bothersome :0

Word Count: 4273 Words

The storm raged deep into the night, beating against the walls of the house, the wind screaming and howling as the rain poured down from the gray sky. It was perfect. The rain and thunder hid any sounds of Blue leaving and re-entering the house. Being out in the rain was cold, it soaked into his clothes and sunk into his skin. Drying off wouldn’t be an issue, and neither would sneaking back into the house after his excursion. At least, if things went his way. He wasn’t sure why he thought that this would be easy, it never was. Life enjoyed giving him what he wanted before sucker-punching him in the gut.

Getting back in the way he got back out was out of the question, climbing from the ground to the second story window that led into his room in this rain was unthinkable. Scaling up the wet bricks would surely lead to him crashing onto the back porch, and that would be a whole other issue. Teleporting was also out of the equation. To prevent intruders, they had set up a system to alert the three of them if any magic crossed the threshold of the house. Unfortunately, that included Blue.

There was a single light on in the house, and it belonged to the TV. Blue watched the channels change, someone trying to settle on one. He mentally swore over and over as he pressed himself against the front door, trying to hide from the rain. Why was he up right now?! It was three in the morning, he was never awake this early!

Rise and rest with the sun. That is how he functioned. Blue couldn’t remember a single time when Dream was awake in the middle of the night. And yet, there he was! At three in the morning! Watching TV!

Blue ran his hands up his face, the rainwater soaking into his skin, pushing his curly hair up. He could handle it being Ink. Ink would likely be stoned out of his mind, and if he wasn’t, he didn’t give a shit if Blue came home late, as suspicious as it was. The worst he would receive from Ink would be some teasing, borderline ridicule. But from Dream? Dream, someone who he respected more than anyone else, and someone who he would consider his best friend? Dream would ask. Interrogate. And he would have no choice but to tell the truth. Dream could read him like a book, and would see through his lies in an instance.

As the cold began to set in, he surrendered himself to the only option he had. He had wracked his brain for an alternative, some way to avoid the confrontation he knew he was about to have. There was always the option of waiting him out, but he wasn’t exactly jumping at the opportunity to spend more time in the cold rain. Maybe he could pull this off, somehow. Dream was likely very drowsy; Blue could tell by the way he half-heartedly switched through channels that he was forcing himself to stay awake. Why he was doing that, Blue couldn’t say. He hoped that it wasn’t because Dream noticed his disappearance.

With a cold and trembling hand, Blue opened the front door, pushing it open with his shoulder. He had to force it closed, the wind fighting him as he did so. As the door shut with a gentle click!, the TV paused. It was on some documentary that Blue doubted Dream was interested in. He didn’t move far into the house, allowing his clothing and hair to drip onto the mat by the front door. Dream twisted his body, facing Blue with only his face, his hips still facing the TV. It looked incredibly uncomfortable and Blue doubted he would stay in the position for long.

Due to the heavy rainstorms that have been happening in their world, the trio had been keeping towels next to the front door as of late. Using one of them, Blue managed to get most of the water out of his curls and clothes, although he would stay a little damp until he changed.

“Where were you, huh?” Despite the playful tone of Dream’s voice, Blue felt his heart leap into his throat. His heart slammed against his ribcage as he got rid of the water soaked into the scarf onto the towel. He slipped his scarf around his neck, feeling the texture on his face as he gathered his thoughts.

A lie was out of the question, Dream knew his tics.

However, maybe he didn’t have to lie. It wasn’t a lie if he didn’t give Dream all of the information, right?

“Oh, you know.” Blue spoke, flinging Dream’s playful tone back at him. He managed a slight smile, despite the anxiety bubbling in his stomach.

Dream chuckled. He finally decided that twisting his body at the waist was uncomfortable and sat up on the couch, arms resting on the upper couch cushions. He leaned into the palm of his hand, watching as Blue discarded his boots next to the shoe rack.

“I don’t, actually.” He dropped the smirk on his face in favor of something softer. “Indulge me?”

“Mmm…” Blue hummed, wringing out his gloves over the kitchen sink. He had flicked on the one light right above the sink and none else. It wasn’t necessary, as he knew the layout of the kitchen better than the back of his hand, and turning on more lights would awaken Ink, and that would be a whole other problem to deal with!

How much could he hide from Dream? Maybe skewing the truth would work just fine…

“I was with Cross.” Not exactly false.

Dream’s face dropped, which Blue expected. He turned back around on the couch, grumbling to himself. The mere mention of Cross should dissuade Dream from continuing the conversation entirely. Both Cross and Dream disliked each other greatly, but Blue could not figure out why. Their personalities clashed, sure, but Blue didn’t think it was to that high of a degree.

“And?”

“Huh?” “You were with,” Dream grit his teeth as he stood up, brushing off his black jeans before walking into the kitchen. “Cross, and? What did you do with him?”

Blue was still a little damp by the time Dream got over, but he didn’t mind. It would dry. As Dream walked over, he flicked off the light, leaving the two in darkness. The only light source was the TV, which was beginning to dim, and Dream’s golden eyes. Dream leaned against the counter, one hand on it, the other on his waist. His posture was casual, he wasn’t upset. At least, Blue hoped he wasn’t reading it wrong.

“...We were in a library.”

Blue hoped that the darkness would shield his nervous tics, shield Dream from his lies.

“Was this a planned meeting?”

“Yes.” Again, not a lie. Not fully.

The silence wrapped around his neck like a noose, leaving him breathless. He couldn’t read Dream’s face, both due to his incredible poker face and the darkness around them. He cocked his head to the side, thinking.

“You could’ve told me, y’know.”

Oh thank the heavens.

“I mean, I don’t like Cross, at all, but I respect your relationship with him. I’m not going to like, stop you from seeing him or anything.” Dream kept his arms crossed as he spoke, his body relaxed as he shrugged. “Buuut, I feel like you're hiding something. You’ve got this nervous energy around you, B. Did something happen?”

There it was. He should’ve known Dream would catch on eventually. It was hard to hide things from someone who could read your feelings. Blue sighed, the sound of his heart pounding in his head was clogging up his mind. He leaned against the counter by the sink, his hands gripping onto the countertop.

“You can tell me anything. Even if it has to do with Cross or whoever.”

Blue inhaled sharply, his resolve faltering. He got no pleasure from hiding and lying to Dream (or to anyone, for that matter). Maybe he could just be honest?

No, only a naïve fool would allow himself to think with such optimism.

“Why can’t a guy have his secrets?” It took all that Blue had to keep his voice stable, not allowing the anxiety to bubble over into his voice. If he could play defensive, and then change the subject, then he’d be able to get off scot free.

“Why can’t that guy tell his best friend his secrets?”

“Ah…” Blue glanced away, the smallest bit of anger pooling inside of him. Despite his inherent goodness, Dream was one to play underhanded, and pulling out the ‘best friend’ card was a cheap tactic! He ran his hand through his damp curls, pushing them off of his forehead. He kept his eyes on the floor as he ran his hand down the back of his head, his hand resting on the side of his neck. He flinched as his fingers pressed down on the tender spot on his neck, his face twisting as he shoved his hand back into his pants pocket.

“What was that?”

“What was what?”

“You jumped. Are you hurt, let me see.” Dream stepped closer, flicking on the sink light. Blue shrunk away, hiding in his scarf. His mind was whirling, he needed to get out of this, he needed to divert Dream’s attention. This was possibly the worst thing that could happen. He couldn’t believe he flinched like that! He knew it was there, the blemish was still warm, it stayed warm, even when the cold rain soaked into his skin.

“Dream, I…” He didn’t get the chance to finish as Dream pulled him back into the light, holding onto his forearms. Dream turned him to the right, allowing the light to hit the left side of his body. His nails dug into the palms of his hands as Dream shifted his scarf down his shoulder. Goosebumps appeared along his skin as Dream’s warm hand touched the side of his neck.

“What is…?” Dream murmured, getting closer to Blue, eyes squinted. “It’s not a bruise, is it?”

Reserving himself to the situation, Blue nodded, his voice barely audible. “No.”

“Then it’s…” Dream’s eyes widened and he pulled back, confusion and hurt dancing across all of his features. “Cross didn’t give you that, now did he?”

“Of course not.”

“So you lied.”

“Not exactly.” Blue strained, giving Dream distance, space. He messed with his scarf, having it cover his neck once more. “I was with Cross, and I was in a library.”

“Nightmare’s library.”

And there it was. The nail in the coffin.

“...Yes.” Blue said, his voice hoarse and throat dry.

All of Dream’s hurt became anger at the mention of Nightmare. Blue staggered further back, getting out of Dream’s way, out of his reach. He watched as Dream’s face contorted, his mind trying to wrap around his betrayal.

As much as he hated calling it that, there was no other word. His hand went up to his neck once more, slipping underneath his scarf. His fingers gently ran across the hickey, he had to make sure that it was really there.

“So, so lemme get this straight.” Blue could hear the hurt, the barely contained anger, in Dream’s voice. “You, knowingly, went to Nightmare’s castle, not just a meet up in another timeline, no, you purposefully went into the homebase of that bastard, and let him suck on your neck!”

Blue’s body stiffened, his shoulders going tense. “That…is what happened, yes.”

“Why?” Dream snapped, his hands balling into fists. Blue’s eyes widen at the sight of his fists, his heart slamming in his chest. Seeing this, Dream took a long, deep breath, and loosened his hands. He had never hurt Blue, but other people had. He didn’t blame Blue for his reaction. With a deep breath, he ran a hand through his hair, pushing his coils back. “I need you to tell me why you ran off to…to him of all people!

“Please. Let me understand. Make me understand why.”

“I…” Blue sighed, dropping his hands. “Okay.”

Dream kept his arms crossed, folded tightly over his chest as he gave Blue time to think. Time to get his thoughts in order. He shifted on his feet, heart slamming in his chest. He was about to admit everything. The prospect of that was…terrifying. He didn’t want to lose Dream as a friend, or lose him at all! At the same time, though, he didn’t want to stop speaking, or getting intimate with, Nightmare. Would he be forced to pick?

The more he thought about it, if he had to choose one or the other, he was beginning to realize that, maybe, his loyalties didn’t lie with Dream. A scary thought, considering he would have shot someone point-black with a blaster for Dream. When did this change? Where he would pick Nightmare over Dream?

“Do you remember the fight up in the mountains? The one where Ink and I evacuated an entire town from an avalanche?” “How could I forget?” Dream said, laughing a little. “I searched for days looking for you in the snow, only for it to turn out that Nightmare had taken you.”

“Yeah. That was the fight that, ah, started everything.”

“What do you mean? He took you prisoner, B.” Dream scowled as he spoke, concern rising in him. He knew about Blue’s relationship (if you could even call it that) with Error, the guy was too trusting. Too full of optimism. Believing that everyone could be a good person, if they just try. Horror dawned on him. Nightmare could, and would, use that.

“Not exactly. You see…I was trapped under the snow.” Blue took a deep breath. “It was scary, I could barely breathe, it was cold, and I couldn’t use my magic. I…I thought I wasn’t going to make it.”

“Oh, B…”

“But I did! Obviously,” Blue snorted. “It was Nightmare, actually, who fished me out. I don’t really remember what had happened, but when I woke up, I was in Nightmare’s castle.”

“The dungeon.” “No.”

“No?” Dream asked, an eyebrow rising.

“I was on a couch by a fireplace covered in blankets. And when I sat up…Nightmare was there.”

Blue half expected Dream to say something, but he was prompted to continue.

“I was scared, at first. I thought he was going to hurt me. He promised that he wouldn’t.”

“And you believed him.”

“I…” Blue flushed with embarrassment, “Yes. I did. And he didn’t! We just…talked. It was really nice, actually.”

“What.” Dream’s face flashed with a sense of hurt and anger once more, and Blue’s face fell in response.

“Dream, listen. I had never had a conversation like that before! It was like…like we clicked. I’ve never had such an intellectually stimulating conversation before!” Much to Dream’s alarm, Blue’s cheeks visibly warmed and his lips pulled themselves into a smile. “It was incredible!”

“Oh my God, you don’t see it.”

The smile dropped from Blue’s face, his arms going down to his side. “See what?”

“That he’s using you!” Dream hissed, anger filling him up once more. Anger at Nightmare, anger at Blue. “He’s using your trust to hurt me, to make you believe that you can trust him! He’s been fucking with you, and you fell for it!”

“That’s not…We’ve had our differences in the past but, I think that-”

“If by differences you mean tormenting you, then sure.”

“Dream-”

“But by all means, if you want to run off and be with him, I won’t stop you.” Dream gripped onto his forearms, teeth grinding together as he spoke. “I mean, I get it, really, he’s got the castle, the tentacles, the throne, the never ending cruelty. Didn’t realize that was your type.”

Blue could feel the venom being spit at him when Dream spoke. His heart slammed in his chest, and a familiar lump began to grow in his throat.

“Why are you so angry?” He croaked.

“Because you’re pissing me off! He’s obviously using you for ulterior means and the fact that you can’t see it, that you’re letting him mark you and who knows what else, makes me want to tear my hair out!”

Dream met eyes with Blue, and his body softened, just slightly, when he saw Blue’s wide eyes and pursed lips. He rubbed his forehead, nails still digging into his skin. “I can’t…I can’t deal with this, with you, right now. Just…go.”

“What?”

“Get out! I need some time to think. So go.”

“...Okay.” Blue whispered, voice trembling. Adrenaline pumped through his veins, forcing him to make a mad dash for the front door, his hands shaking as he opened the door. Outside, rain and thunder greeted him, but his legs forced him out, boots smacking against the buddy ground. Just when he was starting to get dry, the rain soaked him again, running down his face and making his clothes feel colder. He couldn’t tell if he was crying or not; rain and tears felt about the same. That was probably for the better.

Perhaps it was deranged of him to know who was at the door by how they knocked. However, it made his job a whole lot easier. Knowing who was coming in by the knock allowed him to have a few, sweet, seconds to prepare himself, to know how he should be presenting himself. With Cross, he would stand, if he wasn’t already, and take his position as Cross’s superior. There was no such thing as being too formal with Cross, it was informality that was the issue. For better or for worse, Cross felt more comfortable, or simply less anxious, if he knew who was in charge, and if that person made it clear. If he had to guess, this complex was likely his father’s doing. With Horror, on the other hand, being informal was the goal. He would often stay sitting down, being casual, and as open as he could be.

The rapping at the door told Nightmare that it was Killer who needed his presence. Killer knocked with his knuckles, brushing his hand against the door. There was no need to stand with Killer, although he would limit the informality. Killer was a wildcard, who knew how he would interpret certain things. Nightmare supposed that was somewhat his fault.

“You may enter.”

The door creaked open, and Killer slipped in like a shadow, barely making a sound. He stood at the door, as Nightmare had taught him to do, waiting. Nightmare finished his sentence, setting the quill down before gesturing to Killer to come with two fingers. He quickly read over what he had written in response before deeming it good enough before turning his attention towards Killer.

One of his legs was propped up, the ankle resting on the other knee. Nightmare leaned his face against the back of his hand, his teal eyes settling on Killer’s pure black ones.

“Whacha workin’ on?”

“Settling a land dispute. Nothing particularly interesting.” Contrary to popular belief, his title as King wasn’t just for show. He had a proper kingdom, and it was his job to make sure it stayed afloat. He may rule with an iron fist, but that didn’t mean that he didn’t care. “What do you want?”

“It's Blue.”

Ah, Blue. Nightmare hummed, smiling at the name. He was endearing, and kind. Despite his moments of incredibly handy naïveté, he was quite intelligent. Not the greatest conversationalist, but intriguing enough to forgive his struggle with small talk. He had to admit that he quite enjoyed the conversation the day he plucked Blue from the snow. If he had to be completely honest, it was a spur of the moment action. He didn’t want Blue to perish, not in such a fashion. Taking him home though, that wasn’t his plan. At least initially. It just so happened to work out that way, and it spurred on one of the schemes he had put on the backburner.

Earning Blue’s trust, his unwavering loyalty, and then ripping him from Dream’s hands.

“He’s at the front door, Boss.” “So soon?” Nightmare grinned, completely unsurprised. “Let him in. He knows the way.”

After all of their meetings, all of their erotic rendezvous, if Blue didn’t know his way to Nightmare’s bedroom by heart, then it would be a surprise.

It took a minute, maybe three, although Nightmare wasn’t paying attention, for Blue to come barreling into the room, damp with rainwater and his body trembling, likely for more reason than one. A towel was half-hazardly draped over his shoulders, likely given to him when he made his way up here.

“Back already? Did you miss me that much?” Nightmare grinned as he stood up, stretching his back a little as he did so.

“No- Well, I mean,” Blue chuckled, cheeks flushing. “Yes, I did, b-but that’s not why I’m here! I…”

Blue fidgeted with his hands, glancing away. “It’s Dream. He, um, found out.” Nightmare could feel the terror radiating off of him. It was as if Blue expected him to get angry, get aggressive. Not like this was unexpected, especially when they had spent so much time fighting against each other, when Nightmare spent so much time terrorizing him, feeding on his sweet, negative emotions.

“Found out what?” Nightmare asked, getting closer and gently holding Blue’s cold hands. He made a point to keep his voice low, his body language unthreatening.

“About you.”

“About us?”

“Mhm…” Nightmare gently wiped the tears forming in the corners of his eyes, using his other hand to feel his quick heartbeat via his wrists. “I’m really sorry.”

“It’s not your fault. I thought it was late in your universe?”

“I-It was! It was like three in the morning! I don’t know what in the world he was doing up!”

“And he…?”

“He saw the hickey and…he knows when I lie so I couldn’t…”

Nightmare gently held Blue’s face, his thumbs on the center of his cheeks. “I’m not mad.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course.” Nightmare placed a kiss against his forehead, “I don’t care if he knows or not. The more time I have with you, the better.”

“You promise you’re not upset?” “Yes,” Nightmare chuckled, “I promise. Now, you’re a mess, why don’t you dry yourself off? You can borrow a shirt of mine, for now.”

Blue glanced towards the window, and it didn’t take a genius to know what he was thinking. Even though it was very early in the morning in the universe containing Dream’s house, the sun was peeking over the horizon on the eastern side of the castle. Sleeping now would set himself up on the path of becoming nocturnal.

“You can head to sleep.”

“But-!”

“Quiet. Allow your brain and body to rest.” Nightmare said, gently tapping Blue on his ass in the direction of his bathroom, causing him to squeak. “I’ll get you a shirt in the meantime, go get dry.”

With bright red cheeks, Blue skittered off to the en suite bathroom. Nightmare watched him go, eyes boring into the back of his head. Everything had panned out as planned. Not that he expected it not to, Dream was incredibly predictable and his reactions were perfect. Admittedly, he wasn’t completely sure if he would be able to wake Dream, as the guy slept like a corpse. It did work, and it went just as he intended it too.

All that was left now was to get Blue to stay in the castle with him permanently, which would be one of the easiest parts of his elaborate scheme. He could almost taste the despair Dream would feel, discovering that he had pushed Blue right into his loving embrace.

Choosing a shirt for him wasn’t difficult. They’d all look the same on him anyway: massive. He selected a black, satin, button-up shirt. He had slept in something similar in the past, and it had the added bonus of being a texture that Blue didn’t abhor, so he knew that Blue would be comfortable. He walked over to the bathroom door, opening it a crack before handing the shirt off.

“Thanks.”

“Of course.” Blue stepped out of the bathroom, his curly hair messy and frizzy from drying it with a towel. His scarf, which was decently dry, hung loosely around his neck. In his arms were his clothes, which Nightmare took from him when he bent down. “You look adorable.”

Blue pressed his face into his scarf, nodding. His legs were cold, but he wasn’t about to complain. “Th-Thanks.”

“I’ll go put your clothes in the dryer, you get into bed and sleep off your adrenaline and anxiety, you reek of it.”

“Right! Right, okay.” Blue walked over to the bed, pausing before getting into the plush, velvet covers. “Are you sure…?” He asked, gesturing with his thumb towards the window.

“It’s only six in the morning. I’ll come wake you up in a few hours.”

“Promise?”

“Yes.”

Nightmare walked over to the bed, holding the damp clothes in a tentacle. He pulled the covers over Blue’s shoulders, and leaned down, allowing their lips to meet. Blue smiled up at him, his big, blue eyes filled with nothing but genuine gratitude and adoration. He shifted onto his other side, back away from Nightmare. Nightmare smiled, smiled something sly, and borderline cruel as he gently tucked a piece of hair behind Blue’s ear. Everything had gone like clockwork, and he would reap the benefits for as long as he could.

[blorb-el]

hullo! I read your chapter of your au with the Very Horrible Lex and the Very Baby Kon and the Very Sad Clark and i love it sosososo much! The GOOD ANGST my dood.

I want you to know i’ve been daydreaming abt it. Heck, i was daydreaming WHILE reading it- i mean that’s actually normal for me when i’m invested in smthn, but fr i kept getting distracted by So Many Thoughts and Feelings tm. Took me longer to read than it should’ve but rest assured that’s a positive thing!

i read the fic you based it on, and it was great! But so far im liking yours better >v>

I wanna see the rescue and the recovery! I wanna see it get worse first! I wanna see Clark attempt to raise Kon the best he can in the worst of circumstances! The love and human connection thriving even in the midst of a hurricane of cruelty— it’s so good bestie!

uhh anyway! The point of this ask: I wanna know, how did you come up with the title? “We shall be free; we shall find peace”? oVo?

Thank you!! That's basically how it came about, daydreaming about the fic that inspired it!

So I really love the fanfic tradition of using lowercase AestheticTM song lyrics as titles. Fic is already inherently intertextual, and I think it's fun to add another layer of intertextuality onto that; I named one of my other fics with a lyric mostly because 1. the lyric fits their relationship! and 2. the juxtaposition between Wholesome Radio Pop Lyric and soft d/s xeno tentacle pwp still makes me laugh.

At first the draft was just called 'horrible lex au,' and then I thought about using two other quotes before settling on the title. That's the tl;dr of it all, the rest of this is under a cut for plot spoilers for the overall arc of the entire fic, and also so, so much rambling:

The first title I was thinking about was be sure your heart is brave from Aeschylus' Agamemnon, but that quote is the chorus speaking to Cassandra right before she's about to be killed; her bravery is a heavy burden reaction to the monstrous injustices that have brought her to that point, like Clark and Kon... but then she's brutally murdered. Plus the power dynamic situation is... let's say, very different. It's an extraordinary, immortal line but the narrative arc I've got planned strays too far from the original arc, and in the end I decided I didn't want the shadow of a way better tragedy hanging over my little fanfic.

Chorus: Woman, be sure your heart is brave; you can take much. Cassandra: None but the unhappy ever hear such praise.

The next line I was thinking about went too far in the other direction, taste a morning out there, which is from one of the best 'I Want' songs, Out There from the Disney Hunchback of Notre Dame. Quasimodo's story of being thought monstrous and being imprisoned and gaslit by a socially powerful manipulator parallels Clark and Kon better than Cassandra's, but in the end the literal line itself doesn't fit right with either Clark or Kon. Clark, at the beginning of the fic, has atrophied to the point where he can only conceive wanting for such things through wanting them for Kon, and Kon, as we'll see soonish, isn't locked up underground the way Clark is. Plus, the fic is... lighter than the Orestia for sure but a hell of a lot grimmer than Disney, lol. I do have it on my writing playlist though.

So in the end I went back to one of my absolute favorite pieces of media ever, Fidelio. We shall be free; we shall find peace is a line from the Prisoner's Chorus in that opera. The solo prisoner that sings the line invites the rest of the prisoners to begin hoping, and from there, despite the sobering reminders of the dangers they face, that they're being watched, the music swells into a yearning for freedom so powerful it's difficult to understand how it passed the censors in 1805.

First solo: Hope whispers softly to me: We shall be free, we shall find peace. Chorus: Oh Heavens! Salvation! What happiness! Oh freedom, freedom, will you return? Second solo: Speak softly! Be on your guard! [The jailer's] eyes and ears are on us.

And then - the head jailer returns, and the prisoners are brought back to reality, forced back into their dark cells at the end of the act. The temporary respite is over.

Farewell, warm sunshine - how quickly you fly from us. Night is fallen upon us, from which no day shall break.

The simple act of hoping is like a breath of fresh air, temporarily alleviating their suffering, but it doesn't materially change their circumstances; it takes a number of outside forces to do that, which will be paralleled in the fic. Love and hope is all they have, and it's not enough, but it does make the torment bearable until Bruce/Leonora uncovers the extent of The Horrors and Diana/Don Fernando can deus ex machina everyone into the sunlight.

All in all, the line is a very succinct summary of the plot. Clark and Kon will be free, and they will find peace, but they have to find out what both of those mean, reclaiming their agency in the process.

oooor at least that's the plan. chapter 2 is about 90% edited and can probably be ready this weekend, I hit a little plot snag in chapter 3-5 so chunks of that are undergoing rewrites, but the good news there is that the rewrites are SO much better than the original draft and there will be some bats showing up earlier than there otherwise would have been. I did uhhhhhhhhhhhhhh kind of lose my job a few days after posting the first part, so updates will be slower than I'd like, especially since I'll have to move to a different state if I get the positions I'm currently applying to 😓

[susandsnell]

Movies with Scarecrow vibes?

Ahhh, thank you so much for sending this! This might be long-winded, as I tend to be, but such is the way of Cranerot!

Naturally, Brian de Palma's Carrie. Aside from the plot and thematic matches almost eerily to Scarecrow: Year One to the point I'd be shocked if it wasn't a direct inspiration, de Palma's camp balanced with heartrending drama and tragedy and a horror where nearly everyone involved is a monster has Crane written all over it. I actually have several tracks from the score on my inspiration playlist for when I'm writing him!

Hellraiser (1987)! Jonathan Crane is so, so, so Cenobite-coded (highly recommend @acapelladitty's Cenobite!Crane AU, incidentally)! An old house filled with secrets, a plucky heroine whose sanity is doubted but who wins the day (at a great cost), and creatures that want to bring you to the height of sensation until the joy is inextricable from the anguish...it very much suits his more sensual reverent speeches/quotes about fear. "We have such sights to show you" could so easily be a Scarecrow quote, and likewise, "Eventually, the victim desires the horror" could very believably be a Pinhead line!

Since you mentioned it in The Most Poetical Topic, Night of the Hunter (1955) as a Southern noir quasi-folktale thriller absolutely suits the more charming, insidious iterations of Crane, in atmosphere, setting, antagonist, and in the themes of corrupted religion. The themes of childhood fears and defeating your demons while also struggling with their humanity both suit different phases of Jonathan Crane in his life, and the responses to and from the people he knows and terrorizes.

On the note of the South, O Brother Where Art Thou provides heavy atmosphere that give off Crane vibes, bringing a mythic epic to the setting of his backstory, with the music and monsters therein giving a good feel of everything that built the man and the monster.

Also naturally, many a mad scientist movie! The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari gives us a corrupt asylum director who torments his patients until he eventually becomes one of them, and Re-Animator gives us an actual former Scarecrow actor, Jeffrey Combs, in a very Crane-like role when it comes to being penalized in academica for horrific and unethical experiments. (It's even set in the original Arkham for which Gotham's is named!!) The Fly isn't quite as on point, but it does still give those vibes as well. And although the degree of 'madness' when he plays him is debatable, any of Cushing's roles as any member of the Frankenstein family come to mind since he's very much an old school!Crane figure.

A Nightmare on Elm Street (1984): yes, yes, 'look out for Mr. Pricky-Fingers', in the words of Codotverse!Scarecrow, but fear gauntlets/needles gloves aside, Freddy is the boogeyman who is literally fed on fears, and he much better gives the feel of a distinctly Scarecrowish tormentor than, say, your average Pennywise or other. Nancy's speech to him at the end is highly reminiscent of those who've managed to successfully stand up to Crane over the years, too.

Halloween (1978): On the note of boogeymen, and other than the "one good scare" quote you yourself have mentioned, I imagine Scarecrow to move and function a lot like Michael Meyers; slow, creeping, inevitable. Every kid in Gotham City thinks this place is haunted. They might be right!

For the pure fanservice of it/JonBecky vibes, let's say both the Lon Chaney and Charles Dance Phantom of the Operas, Death Takes a Holiday (1934), The Shape of Water, and The Ghost and Mrs. Muir inspire how I conceive of the more romantic side of our beloved Scarecrow. I'll throw in Silence of the Lambs as well, since that gives us an incarcerated evil psychiatrist meeting his match in an intrepid young woman involved with the law who he forces to face her formative traumas, but who manages to come out on top despite his machinations.

A few Hitchcocks, honestly! The Birds is outright referenced in Year One and definitely gives life to the visceral horrors he underwent in the old Keeny chapel, whereas Vertigo more in atmosphere and obsession captures a lot of torment he experiences. I also do see shades of crane even in Norman Bates' "private traps" speech!

Thanks so much for sending this along!

[princess-of-the-corner]

So, thoughts on the following main ships from Equestria Girls and Friendship is Magic: AppleDash (Friendship is Magic), RariJack (both Friendship is Magic and Equestria Girls), FlutterDash (both Friendship is Magic and Equestria Girls), TwiPie (Friendship Is Magic), RariShy (Friendship is Magic), Sunset/Pony Twilight (Equestria Girls), SunPie (Equestria Girls), Sunset/Sci-Twi (Equestria Girls), Rarity/Applejack/Rainbow Dash, and Sunset/Sci-Twi/Pinkie?

Short answer: YES!! I love most combinations of the Mane 6/Humane 7! My one exception is that Pinkie/AJ kinda got kicked after the show started considering them cousins(even though it's not a confirmed relation and the show itself ships their siblings). BUt other than that yes!!

For a more individual discussion:

AppleDash: Absolute classic friendly rivals! Would bicker 24/7 but love each other

RariJack: A beautiful kind of opposites attract but also there's no way this isn't Canon at this point like idk that it's technically not you can't give them both a romance with a guy that looks exactly like the other and the resemblance is even pointed out by the others and then tell me it's not forshadowing. Also I know in canon everyone's the same height but my height headcanons means tallest x smallest!!

FlutterDash - Another sort of opposites attract, combined with childhood friends!

Twipie - Yes!!! Yes! Pink and purple! Bookworm and party girl! The one who has to know absolutely everything about how the world works and the one who just shrugs and goes with the vibes!!

Rarishy - Absolutely soft and once again some opposite vibes!

Sunset/Pony!Twi - YES!! Come on y'all know me enemies to friends to lovers is my JAM!! They will spend a whole week in a library together.

Sunpie - Y'all have NO IDEA because I haven't linked my fics in a while but I wrote them in the drama class and they played Oberon and Puck basically like this and casually quote lines at each other.

Sunset/Sci-twi - YE! Sunset is Sci-Twi's manic pixie dream girl fantasy and I am living for it!

Rarity/AJ/Rainbow - Rares is the brain cell here but she doesn't mind she might not like getting sweaty but she is watching AJ and Dash work out and just sitting on the sidelines with a TALL lemonade.

Sunset/Sci-Twi/Pinkie - double the manic pixie dream girl!!

Bonus!

You didn't ask but Rarilight is probably one of the top on the list and I'm using it to suggest a favorite fic, The Enchanted Library (and also it's sequels and sidestories). Heavy AU but HIGHLY recommended!!

[midnights-dragon]

2, 3, 10, 23, 26 from this ask game

2. Go to your AO3 “Works” page, to the sidebar with all the filters, and click the drop-down arrow for “Additional Tags.” What are your top 3-5 most used tags? Do you think they accurately represent your writing habits?

Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks, Domestic, Fluff I do think these represent my works, especially the first one! Though I'm surprised that whump isn't up there. By the way, the reason I only put three is because the other two in the top five were Emotional Hurt/Comfort and Heavy Angst. RIP.

3. What are some tropes or details that you think are very characteristic of your fics?

Ooh yes I love this question!! I think that I use a lot of descriptive words, and I almost never use the word 'said'; I like to describe everything I can that is relevant, and I really, really like using Biblical scripture as a metaphor. I also love dialogue punctuated by actions, and whenever there's whump, there will be whimpers. A lot of them. And I WILL make references to quotes in the actual media or things that happen in my fics, or even from other fandoms/things I like. I quoted the Great Gatsby once. Fucking amazing. But mostly I would say heavy descriptions, which I know can be annoying to some people, so sorry about that lol.

10. How do you decide what to write?

Honestly? I don't. It kind of just comes to me in my head, or I see something and get randomly inspired. One week I've got nothing; next week I'm writing 2 multichapters and a smut one-shot that's going on anonymous. (True story of this week, lmao.) Once I pulled over on the side of the road while driving because I had a sudden idea while behind the wheel. It just sort of happens. I don't decide.

23. What’s a trope, AU, or concept you’ve never written, but would like to?

I would say Human AU, but I just did one akaksjks!! Hmm. I don't have any in particular in mind except for maybe, like, combining fandoms? Crowley and Aziraphale on the Boiling Isles? Something like that. No ideas for that right now though!

26. Would you rather write a fic that had no dialogue or one that was only dialogue?

No dialogue all the way. I can't stand all-dialogue writing, at least when I'm doing it, unless it's poetry or something. I NEED MY DESCRIPTIONS AND MY -LY WORDS!!

[nartblartmallcop]

RIP to my dhmis fixation, lets honor it with a bunch of stuff i made and either wanted to pretty up some more or add more pics to before posting but now thats not happening

first off some things that i dont think really need an explanation

first quick sketches of other arts that i just really like and wanted to keep (yea the playlist icons started out as pics for selected red vox songs for each of them)

roy at the very moment where he realises the nature of the world he's in. shortly after this he turns into a gangly beast

pic based on the INCREDIBLE fic "Three Friends, Three Foes, Three Names They'll Never Know" by Eliza Farrow, specifically the quote "Red is love, and rage, warmth and war, luck and passion. Everything was there, under a thick plastering of apathy, his feelings tangled and violent like storms within clouds." from chapter 2 (i actually wanted to draw many things based on moments from the fic because it REALLY sparked my inspo when reading it)

i looked up different hairstyles you can do with freeform dreadlocks like the ones i gave radley and i had way more styles i wanted to do, but these two on their own are also nice

my take on that AU concept where yellow has to dad the other two

was thinking about how naive all three of them actually are and had the idea of an AU where all three of them are children. it would make no sense but thats not what its about it was all about the cute kiddo designs

i actually spent a good few weeks fighting the internal battle of my fucking life on if i would maybe want to change my human designs for radley and quentin cause i felt like the ones here would fit their puppets' appearances better, but i had already grown so attached to my original designs,,, it was a struggle

also my take on the "who used the chainsaw" discourse

quentin would fuck his boss for a promotion. if he hadn't freaked out about how he was brainwashed he would have gone for the gilf

humanization take on duck putting the smallest toast in the toaster: just busting out a flamethrower

radley fighting quentin's internalised racism AND homophobia in one swift sentence

a silly idea i had for a claire humanisation. didnt go with it but the concept is hilarious to me. she just has horns

so the idea i had for the tourism teacher oc (that i didnt make) was that they take the gang to germany for some jokes a la "wow this place is so exotic and strange!!!" when it's just one country to the right. they visit a döner kebab stand in this pic

wanted to use this to set up an arc where quentin locks himself back up in the closet and have it cotribute to some major mental health deterioration. cause i love performing the worst psychological torture on my faves

this started out as "potential tv show season 2 design designs" and then quickly turned into "quentin but hes older,,,, and grumpier,,,, AND in the beginnings of a villain arc" (pure self indulgence)

a height comparison that was my main basis for the refs i made

that shrek AU i promised ages ago. like i said above i really waned to add more to it before posting, at the very least the "Who are you trying to keep out?" "EVERYONE, OKAY?" scene

deltarune AU!! the idea was that yellow is a human who gets posessed by a PLAYER SOUL (a green one instead of red tho) and he goes into a dark world that appeared in his school, but the janitor, duck, sees him, tries to follow him and then he's suddenly in the dark world too! also his mop has come to life and is ridiculousy handsome.

and finally, a little crossover picture i made just before getting fully sucked up by tf2. i genuinely think the two franchises fit each other really nicely tonaly! and also red would 100% play a living meat shield class like heavy and duck would be all insane and violently enthusiastic like soldier. just try to change my mind

[dogueteeth]

WIP Not-Wednesday

Thanks @silvery-bluish for the tag!

I'll forward this to @wonda-fhr ! As always, not pressure to participate ;) <3

Hmmm let's see what I've got for my WIPs that I can share a bit of!

ACT 1

a Tokyo Ghoul!AU FHR series I started on a little while ago. WIP title for now, I think i like the idea of setting up the story as "acts 1 & 2" for Rebirth & Retri. Here's a lil snippet from it I might publish soon once I get the "scenes/chapters" planned out more. Riding heavy on Tokyo Ghoul's "tragedy" quote for my titles on this WIP lol.

He beams, sunshine and smiles, the thousand-watt smile that melts hearts, melts hers a little too. She can feel the smile grow on her face, feel the way that damnable knot between her shoulders loosens a little still, after all of these years, and shit, that's a complication she doesn't need. Didn't and doesn't, not back then and not right now. His hand lands on her shoulder, friendly and comforting. To anyone else but her.

It feels like a lasso. A leash. A noose. Leading her to the front gates, dragging her to her doom. To the gates. The gates. That.

The gates in the Rangers' HQ that scan for RC cells.

Standard. Necessary. No, not standard. State-of-the-art.

Always the best for the Rangers.

Her pulse grows cold. Is she pallid? What does her face look like? Is it terrified, is the the mask crooked?

Last time. Last time, last time, years ago, the RC scanners were still new tech. Not strong enough the pick up her trace, the trace of a half-ghoul. But that. That was almost ten years ago.

A decade is long enough to make improvements.

stray.

Collection of small segments that talk about both of Isa's escapes from the Farm. Alas I'm still working on this! Just haven't made much progress as of late since my brain is rather fried but here's a little snippet!

The stars are beautiful.

Most places she's been deployed have swallowed their stars. Shot them down, trapped them in little plastic and glass containers, anchored to the earth to light roads and pavements and rooms. Kept like animals poached from the wild. Surrounded by wall and window cages in the comforts of humans' homes to chase away the dark. So many caught, so many brilliant stars brought down by man, leaving the skies above filled with an inky emptiness.

But here, in the Nevada desert where man could not remain, where they couldn't take and claim, not the stars nor the arid land, the night sky celebrates with the splendor of galaxies above her head. She stares into the wonder of purple-pink clouds of cosmic dust and the glittering shine of stars, motionless and quiet. She should be running. She should be taking advantage of the darkness that she had waited so long for, curled into a small ball beneath a pile of road debris to keep hidden in the light of day. She never understood the concept of beauty before; it was a uniquely human perception. Less-thans can't afford to think about such things. But she might understand it now. Just a little.

kiss & tell (it's called: freefall)

Another snippet from a piece of the "freefall" series I'm taping together in my free time! Hehehe so many good moments in this series it's always so hard to pick a snippet without potentially spoiling a part of the series's story.

"That's not the point!" He cries out, tossing his arms in the air and biting back the sting of regret when she flinches in the corner of his eye. Regret, then anger. Anger aimed at himself for regretting that. She does not deserve his sympathies right now.

"I get that you're not sorry. I get that you're going to do it again, even if I don't agree with it, even if I wish you would be sorry. What I want to know is why, Cerrísa. Please." His voice cracks, and he can see the way her face falls at the sound. "Please, explain yourself, Cerrísa. Because I'm running out of ways that I can understand you, and I want to give you the benefit of the doubt, that you're not just doing this- killing people- for shits and giggles. Please."

He's almost in front of her now, taller and casting a shadow over her but he feels minuscule in front of her, begging for understanding. She refuses to look him in the eye, and he hates that she's chewing on the already-cracked part of her lip, and he tries not to think about how the metallic taste would feel echoed in his own mouth. Her mouth opens and closes a few times, and every time it falls shut, he feels a little bit of hope within him die.

[mediawhorefics]

hií 💗 for the ask game, what's your favourite fanfic of all time?

oh god i read in so many fandoms this feels like an impossible question dhjfjfdg i'm gonna cheat. is that okay? can i cheat? there's no way you're getting just one. sorry not sorry djbkndkjgbd

i guess if i'm answering 100% honestly, it would prob. be not easily conquered which, for those who don't know is a stucky fic and one of the most beautiful pieces of writing i've ever read. some of the quotes from this fic are seared into my brain and i fear will never leave me.

in the 1d fandom tbh it's still tif. i think to me tif is a perfect romcom. i've never read a better one. it's funny, its heartwarming, it's genuine, the miscommunication is handled very well and that quote that describes trying to explain something traumatic that happened to you young as 'like a fish trying to explain what water is' stayed with me for over a decade. it's exactly that. that's exactly what it feels like... i love this fic sm. it's just as good as everyone says and i think its criminal that some newer fandom peeps haven't read it. i can only aspire to be that kind of writer.

i recently went on a spuffy binge read ad discovered summerfrost's works and i have been in absolute awe of their characterization ever since. their writing knocked me the fuck out. nothing safe is worth the drive (follow you home) is prob. my fav but everything i've read from them has been a masterclass in character study.

the poet dean fic is another work that i think is a game changer. if you're remotely interested in deancas/spn this fic is stunning and it features original poetry by the writer that is just.... gorgeous. it makes me want to write poetry and god knows i am not good at that rip.

cinderwings is another spn fic that's ..... incredible. it's such a creative au that perfectly mixes elements from canon and from fairy tales to create something totally new that feels fresh and different. not to mention i've never read a character pov of a quote unquote creature that actually felt like i wasnt reading a human character. it's done so well.

four letter word for intercourse . its the best smut heavy fic i've ever it. its deancas. end of.

i recently started reading good omens fics and Demonology and the Tri-Phasic Model of Trauma: An Integrative Approach ??? w o w. just.... w ow. if you've read the book/watched the show and loved crowley just a little bit... read this. it's an outsider pov and it is so compelling, it's almost impossible to put down. which is a pretty herculean feat imo considering it's all through the eyes of a stranger. its basically crowley in therapy through the eyes of his therapist. incredible.

back in the old days i read a lot of merlin fics and the student prince still has SUCH a special place in my heart as a comfort fav... it's so funny and heartwarming. the perfect magical uni au. it also has an amazing podfic read by the author.

wastelands is probably my favourite star wars fic i've ever read. it's only 9k and ft just before the sequel trilogy leia crash landing on some abandoned world and getting help from a force ghost to repair her ship only to realise it's anakin. it's just.... a beautiful beautiful character study and a look into their relationship and it ties in with some kylo stuff.

you could dress this wound is a tsn fic where mark starts seeing pain as light on people and develops some empathy/starts seeing the world (and his relationship to eduardo) differently as a result.

best practices in workplace relationships is nothing special. except its heartfelt and funny and i've read it countless times over the past ten years. so many times. it's the assistant wardo fic. it's fun. i love her.

also anything that @helloamhere writes but ESP the anakin/padme/obi fic she wrote partly because of me.

i think thats it... like... off the top of my head today right now.

oh and i guess.... if it's not arrogant to say it ? maybe tts ? just... i'm very very proud of it and it's very special to me. i dont think its better than any fic ive listed here but it is one of my all time favs because it was a big labour of love from me.

[dreamwatch]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

Thank you to @occasionaloverboy for the tag!

So I got tagged in one of these before but had barely written anything, but this time I thought ‘fuck it’, I have some words down now.

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

Zero! Hoping to fix that soon.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

Zero, please see above.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Stranger Things.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Okay, so as before, no kudos. I do have some drabbles over here and the first one got over 500 likes which still boggles my little mind.

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Yes! Because holy shit you, a human I do not know, read my stupid little thing and left me a comment and it made me happy.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I’m not counting prompts because they’re all kind of short, vignetty kind of stuff, and I haven’t finished any of my long fic. Off the top off my head, I would say none have terrible endings planned, though one is definitely pushing it. I also am in super duper early stages of planning a Vietnam AU, and I can’t see that having the happiest ending.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Like I say, so far none ended. I think the one that is likely to have the happiest ending is the Steve and Eddie in the 90s one, as it’s kind of a romance I think?

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Well so far it’s just been ficlets and drabbles on tumblr and people have been very sweet. I’m a little scared if the prison fic sees the light of day because it’s got heavy shit going on and critical thinking is sorely lacking these days. So… hopefully not?

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

So far no. Honestly? I can’t ever even imagine it. And that’s becoming a struggle I’ve recently identified in my WIPs because there’s only so many chaste kisses you can let boys have before someone says ‘bUt wH3n ArE tHeY g0nNa fUCk!?’. In my fics, probably off screen, in the comfort of a bedroom or van and I shall avert my eyes while they do.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

Nope. Hate ‘em.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not as far as I know. Why do people do that? Don’t do that.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

No.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No. I’m always intrigued by how people write a fic together? If you do that tell me now? I’m curious.

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

To quote Miss Erica Sinclair, you really have to ask? Steddie. It will always be Steddie.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Pffft… I mean, all of them? But if I had to pick one, there was one I started and it was my first ever, and it was my take on a recovery fic. And there’s still stuff I like about it, things I had planned for it that I haven’t seen in other similar (aftermath/recovery) stories but I’ve got so caught up with other fics that have a more interesting premise.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I mean… good question, who knows? I’m a contrarian, you show me 100 fics that all do X and I’ll write Y just to spite everyone. More deeply that that, I honestly don’t know.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Oh god so many. I’m ok-ish with dialogue, but shitty with describing what’s going on around it. My pacing isn’t great, I either go into way too much detail or no where near enough. I rarely find the sweet spot. I don’t have the most extensive or imaginative vocabulary, and while I’m not one for overly flowery prose, I would still like the language to be able to communicate imagery and emotion better.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I’ve never done it, I would be worried about it. Nothing more embarrassing than writing an emotional death scene in Icelandic only to be told by a native speaker you ordered three plates of fermented shark.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

The A Team, TV not the film. Fuck the film.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

Of course none of them are finished, but up until now Like A Stone, aka depressed Eddie gets stuck working in the plant with Wayne and nearly everyone has moved away. It took me by surprise in August and I blasted 30k words in one month, and it’s been left ever since. But I need to pick it up again.

No pressure tags, and also if you’ve already done this sorry!

@cchapsticck @devilyouwere @hbyrde36 @farahsamboolents @thisapplepielife

[doom-dreaming]

Johntana Playlist

(link) Wherever We Are, It Feels Like Home

Surrendering; Alanis Morissette Satellite; Guster Armour Love; La Roux The Last of the Real Ones; Fall Out Boy Starlight; Muse His Brightest Star Was You; Two Steps From Hell End of the Earth; MARINA Now and Forever; Gary Numan Against the Odds; Matias Puumala If We Had Known; Gary Numan Tell Me It's A Nightmare; Kim Petras Sigma; Epic Soul Factory Guardian; Alanis Morissette Boom Clap; Charli XCX

(Arranged to be listened to in order, but I'm not your boss. If you want to hear my ramblings, look under the readmore.)

The ordering is ROUGHLY chronological, following the development of their relationship through the games, up to Cortana's sacrifice, and then the last few I included to fit into my canon-divergence AU but can still be read as canon. Some require harder squinting than others.

Surrendering "Self-protection was in times of true danger / Your best defense to mistrust and be wary / Surrendering, a feat of unequaled measure / And I'm thrilled to let you in / Overjoyed to be let in, in kind." - Cortana's POV; this fits for the majority of their whole relationship, but to me it reads as the point where they've learned to fully trust each other and work together and the vulnerability that entails

Satellite "You're riding with me tonight / Passenger side, lighting the sky / Always the first star that I find." - John's POV; this song has always been for them in my mind, it's been part of the playlist since the beginning

Armour Love "You put on your armor / You put up defenses / But why do you want to? / Because I'm here to protect you." - Cortana's POV; the "somebody else" represents everyone that John feels he owes himself to - the UNSC and humanity as a whole; I read a good chunk of this as the moment he's leaving her behind on High Charity

The Last of the Real Ones "You were too good to be true / Gold plated / But what's inside you? / But what's inside you? / I know this whole damn city thinks it needs you / But not as much as I do." - Cortana's POV; the verses/bridge are more relevant than the chorus IMO; big fan of the quoted verses because it feels like the "I'm not doing this for mankind" moment where her loyalty to John is eclipsing her loyalty to the mission/humanity

Starlight "You electrify my life / Let's conspire to ignite / All the souls that would die just to feel alive. / I'll never let you go / If you promise not to fade away." - both of their POVs, sometimes alternating, sometimes simultaneous; fits the themes of Halo 3 and the gap between 3 and 4

His Brightest Star Was You Instrumental - saw it on someone else's (sorry I cannot remember who without going to find it again) Johntana playlist and went "oh I know that one :)"

End of the Earth "But I'd still follow you down / Slow motion, no sound / To the edge of the world." "If we're torn apart then I won't let go / 'Cause wherever we are it feels like home." - Cortana's POV; favorite song on the list, I feel like it really exemplifies their relationship

Now and Forever "I choose you / Now and forever / And this is my life to give." "I'll be lost / In the forever / Until I find you again." - Cortana's POV; making up her mind at the end of Halo 4 and saying goodbye

Against the Odds Instrumental - has that epic sweeping space feel with a little bit of bittersweet mixed in with the triumph

Tell Me It's A Nightmare "Be careful when you love me / I'm only out for blood / You know I'd be the end of you / But you always wanted more / (Be careful what you wish for)." - the first half of the first verse is Cortana, until "I'm a demon in the shadows" where it switches to John and finishes out in his POV; heavy themes of him blaming himself for not being able to save her

If We Had Known "So here I stand / Tortured and helpless / Lost in my heartbreak / Your journey's over / Mine's filled with memories of you." - John's POV after losing Cortana; maybe a conversation he has with himself, maybe a dream; maybe a combination of both where he says the goodbye he really wanted to

Sigma Instrumental - one of my favorite pieces of music of all time, makes me think about floating in space surrounded by stars; (also semi-represents Cortana's return from The Domain in my AU)

Guardian "You, you who has smiled when you're in pain / You who has soldiered through the profane." "You, you in the chaos feigning sane / You who has pushed beyond what's humane." - Cortana's POV; can easily be taken in a canon context; bonus meta points for the inclusion of "guardian" and "warden" (I guess??????)

Boom Clap "You are the light and I will follow / You let me lose my shadow / You are the sun, a glowing halo." - fully self-indulgent, whimsical, and fluffy :) my house :)