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theterrorreversebang · 20 days

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Presenting, for your viewing and reading pleasure: the final collection of this year's Terror Reverse Bang, a feast of gorgeous artwork, beautiful fic, friendship, laughter, tears, …some horny. OK, a lot of horny.

You can find the AO3 collection for the event here. Summaries and links to the artwork below the cut.

Thank you all for going on this fantastic journey with us.

Eat well and enjoy.

- ❤️, Charlie and Vio

amateur operator (T, hickey/irving tozer/irving, 10.5k)

artwork and concept by entangled_system

fic by pointyshades

At an isolated research station at the top of a warming world, in the most inhospitable place on Earth for communications, John Irving studies signal propagation - and studiously avoids the obvious metaphor. John’s had a lot of practice at ignoring the obvious, but when an improbable random contact with an amateur radio operator calling himself "EC" leads to even more improbable regular contact with the same operator, not even John can ignore the ridiculous reality: a growing relationship with someone he knows only by their call sign; a relationship conducted half in Morse code.

John's real-life connections aren't going half so well, and neither is his research: his radio equipment keeps suffering accidents, and he can't stop getting into arguments with Sergeant Tozer, the man assigned to help him fix it. Frustrated, he turns even further toward his relationship with EC - and finds himself being urged down a path of paranoia as to who is actually damaging his equipment.

an arcane kind of murder (M, fitzier, 7.5k)

artwork and concept by pretendingday

fic by shakespeares_girl

At the Baronet Franklin's annual tourney, a series of murders begins. Francis is pressed into investigating, with the help of James Fitzjames. But Lord Franklin won't cancel the tournament, and the murders are getting more and more violent.

as per my last email (E, joplittle, 67.2k)

artwork and concept by mitarashi8

fic by manicpixiedreamjop

Edward Little has lived his life the way he thought he was supposed to. He went to a good university, got a good job as the head of PR at Erebus men’s magazine, and bought a home. He blames the fact that he hans’t dated since university on the fact that he doesn’t have time and not the fact that it terrifies him, and spends what little free time he has trying to pretend he isn’t miserable.

His neighbour Thomas Jopson has lived his life the only way he knows how. He fought his way from a childhood in foster care into a degree and a career that he loves, spending his days doing social work and his evenings volunteering with a local nonprofit supporting queer youth in the foster system. He plans his days down to the second, hardly allowing himself time for anything outside of work and sleep, but he is, at least mostly, satisfied.

When Edward’s boss is quoted saying something homophobic, it’s Edward’s job to clean up the mess, which leads him to the nonprofit that Thomas volunteers with. This new connection has the potential to turn both Edward and Thomas’ lives upside down. If only the two of them actually liked each other.

barghest. (T, joplittle, 10.3k)

artwork and concept by oughtnots

fic by derry_rain

Edward Little is a humble accountant in the late 1920s, but he has lately become haunted by visions of death: his own death, in the form of a great black dog not unlike one that bit him as a child. When his endless visions of ice and snow and the black dog won't end, he finds himself turning to a paranormal private eye: Thomas Jopson.

be that my cue to crave you (E, little/le vesconte, 9.6k)

artwork and concept by bilgewater01

fic by orchis

“If I could eat anything right now—”

“Henry.”

“Anything at all, from all the dishes and delicacies I've ever stuffed my face with—”

“Henry.”

“I think I'd go for an apple,” he finishes. “How awfully pedestrian of me. Nothing fancy, just an apple, and I don't even have the strong teeth for it anymore.”

“Henry.”

He huffs. “I hear you,” he says, and Edward can imagine him frowning, lips pursed. He wishes he could see him in the dark. “Tell me what you'd have, then, and I'll shut up about it.”

As the dark winters of the Arctic stretch before him, Edward yearns and craves and waits.

dear john (T, hodgson/irving/little, 16.6k)

artwork and concept by turnofthesentry

fic by mxjopsonfan

When John receives an anonymous love letter he resolves immediately to find the culprit. Little does he know that he is about to go on a voyage of self-discovery, realisations of deep affection, and three of her Majesty's naval Lieutenants showing how incapable they are of being Normal About Feelings.

ice wine (M, fitzier, 19.9k)

artwork and concept by o-rchidae

fic by melismata

Sir John, English wine pioneer, has survived every crisis since the 70s. Surely three bad harvests and a global pandemic aren't such a big deal? Fortunately, everyone else at Parable Wines agrees the business urgently needs saving. Unfortunately, no-one agrees how.

iceblink luck (M, fitzier, 30.4k)

artwork and concept by marella-moon - x

fic by perenial

October, 1987. With the Thatcher government entering its third term, Defence minister Sir John Franklin looks to offload two of his dockside London properties: one, a successful dance school directed by celebrated principal danseur James Fitzjames, and the other, a century-old boxing gym helmed by former middleweight Olympic hopeful turned disgraced misanthrope Francis Crozier.

In a show of generosity, Franklin offers Crozier the chance to buy out the gym he's poured over a decade of work into. It should be the opportunity he's been waiting for – except Crozier's barely keeping the gym afloat as it is, and Franklin's asking price far exceeds his means. With only one month to cough up the funds or forfeit the gym, Crozier finds himself backed into a corner, fighting for a piece of history he refuses to let go and against a past that's just waiting for him to give in.

matching such unlikes (G, fitzier, 7.5k)

artwork and concept by asparklethatisblue

fic by acephalous

In which Sir John tries his hand at matchmaking: after all who could be a more perfect match for his dear niece than James Fitzjames?

our flag means mutiny (T, hickey/gibson, 8.5k)

artwork and concept by o-rchidae

fic by borderparasol

Cornelius Hickey, William Gibson, and Solomon Tozer have successfully pulled off a grand mutiny, stealing HMS Terror to sail on the open seas and live their life free from the shackles of the Empire, plundering and making their living as pirates!

So...now what? And does anybody know how to fish?

provenance (M, jopzier fitzier silna/goodsir, 7.7k)

artwork and concept by kaupaint

fic by hangingfire

Three relics of the lost Franklin Expedition.

“Don't you get it yet? It must act like a recording, fixed in the floor and the walls. Right in the substance of them, a trace of what happened in there. And we pick it up. We act as detectors, decoders, amplifiers … It would have to be in the stone.”

—The Stone Tape, Nigel Kneale, 1972

reform your behaviour (E, irving/jopson, 9.4k)

artwork and concept by royaielfroot

fic by somelikeitred (ringofboubt)

After finding Hickey and Gibson in a compromising position, Lieutenant Irving intends to inform the Captain immediately. But when he finds Jopson first the Captain's steward persuades him to be lenient.

“Is it necessary to condemn the men -," Jopson considered his words, searching for the phrasing least likely to spook the lieutenant, "-over a desire for companionship? Is it so unforgivable for a man to be lonely?”

John studied him carefully; unable to formulate any response. Surely, Jopson could not be arguing that such vices were acceptable.

sent to the sea (E, annfitzrossier, 10.4k)

artwork and concept by brainyraccoons

fic by swanfloatieknight

After James Ross rescued them, Francis and James return to London in 1848. Francis lives with the Rosses in married bliss.

If only he could stop thinking about James Fitzjames, the bond they shared in the Arctic, and the last letter he sent that Fitzjames never replied to.

sweet to tongue, sound to eye (T, hodgson/irving/little, 10.1k)

artwork and concept by brimstone-cowboy

fic by unnecessary

After an Admiralty party bidding them farewell, the lieutenants get lost in Hampstead Heath. But not all is as it seems...

those wretched beings (M, multiple characters, 7.8k)

artwork and concept by melisusthewee

fic by notinmylab

A very literal take on the idea that colonialism is an infectious disease and that English ships are the carriers. Or, a zombie AU where Something Else is on the ice with them.

unerring devotion (T, jopzier, 7.5k)

artwork and concept by awhbeans

fic by yellow

Everyone else called Francis Frank, but in the quiet of their tent Thomas called him Francis.

Francis wore his two identities awkwardly, like an ill-fitting suit he couldn’t take off. He slipped into old fashioned speech and complained that people thought it affected. But Thomas liked it, just like he liked that Francis still let him call him Francis, and didn’t insist they were different people now. Quite the opposite.

If anything, Thomas was the one who had taken his two lives and separated them neatly, folded them and put them away. With Francis he could take out Thomas and put it on, like crawling into another skin. It was worn and battered but Francis seemed to like it best, and Thomas was glad of it.

---

Thomas Jopson and Francis Crozier are reincarnated. They find each other, and then they set out to find their missing men.

unknown by name or rank (E, joplittle, 17.1k)

artwork and concept by mitarashi8

fic by hypallepse

Years after the Great War, in a tiny illegal pub in the British countryside, Thomas met an awkward veteran and Edward a mysterious war nurse. They almost crashed in their desire to get to know each other, they shared an evening like no other, before having their night cut short by a police raid. How to find the other back with no memory of each other’s name or address? Why even try?

Both of them will stumble in the dark, battling the remnants of the war, unaware of the secret they will unearth in their effort to get that new chance at life.

#theterroreversebang2024 #the terror reverse bang 2024 #masterpost #the terror #the terror amc #amc the terror

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jinhyun · 2 years

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—dreamlike.

pairing: hwang hyunjin x reader

genre: pining, fluff, college au, dance major hyunjin, art major reader

word count: 8.3k (sorry)

warnings: mentions of drinking, minors dni!!

summary: hyunjin would never have thought he'd end up ditching a party for you. never in his wildest dreams would he have thought he'd end up leaving the girl he so badly wanted to hook up with to come to you instead. however, there he was, arriving at the art studio late at night just to be with you.

a/n: so... can you tell i got too caught up in my feels lmao. anyway this is part nineteen of my social media au "watercolor", for those of you who don't follow the story. you guys can take all that happens here as you may, make your own conclusions heh. i hope you guys enjoy! i would love to read your thoughts and theories about what's going on or what's to come here, tysm for reading<3

Hooking up with Yerim. That was Hyunjin's plan for the night. Just get to the party, go up to her, talk for a bit, make a move, and then hopefully take her back home like he had wanted to do for a good while now. Simple as that.

Instead, he was standing in the middle of an isolated 24/7 grocery store aisle, at nearly one in the morning, looking for some bottled water to bring you over to the art studio.

He could only laugh over how differently his night was going, according to the original plan.

When Hyunjin first got to the party that night, he would never have thought he would end up ditching it for you. He and his friends were having way too much fun for the idea of leaving early even crossing his mind.

But Changbin, out of all his friends, was missing. And so were you.

That's when he should've known his night would not go to plan.

Bin had let them all know he was arriving a bit later, Hyunjin did not mind that. They saw each other every day at their shared dorm, he could not care less if Changbin ended up skipping the party. What he did mind, however, was the fact that you were not at the party either, at the same time his friend so conveniently wasn't there as well.

"You okay?" Felix asked, handing him a glass of soju as he reached his side.

Hyunjin nodded, staring into the glass he had just accepted from his friend. "Is Y/N coming tonight?"

Felix's eyebrows raised in slight surprise. "Um, no. She said she wasn't coming".

"She isn't?"

"I think she was getting done with next week's art assignment" Seungmin drew his attention.

"On a Saturday night?" Hyunjin incredulously rolled his eyes.

"She isn't the first in our class for no reason".

"Right".

Taking a sip of his drink under his friends' knowing looks, he took a quick look around the place. Minhyuk's parents were mad rich, so the place they got him near campus was way too big for a single person to live in — or so Hyunjin thought. However, he could only admit it was a great place to hold parties at.

Most dance majors were there, along with other people who had tagged along with them —Seungmin being one of them—, yet the place was far from seeming too crowded. Still, he was having a hard time finding Yerim. Leaving his friends' side and walking around to look for her seemed like the right thing to do, and he would've done it right away, if it weren't for the sight of Cherry cheerfully approaching his small group, being followed by your whole gang.

Chaeryeong went straight up to Seungmin, whose face lit up in a split second. Han greeted them all with a smile and wondered where they had gotten their drinks from, not giving Jeongin time to properly greet them as well and dragging him to the kitchen once Felix pointed towards it. Minho greeted them all with a small nod, not bothering to smile at Hyunjin once his eyes fixed on him.

And that was it. Once again, no sight of you.

"Y/N's not coming?" Hyunjin found himself asking before he could stop himself.

Minho's eyes had seemed to throw daggers at him as soon as your name had slipped past his lips. "Why do you care?"

"Yah, don't be mean" Chae slapped his arm, for the first time taking her eyes away from Seungmin and later focusing them on Hyunjin. "She's not. She wanted to be left alone with her art tonight".

"Told you she was not coming" Felix nudged him.

"Told you she was painting" Seungmin mumbled.

Both of their taunting remarks received a roll of eyes from Hyunjin, who had missed Chaeryeong's proud smile as he proceeded to search around the place once more for the blonde he was trying to hook up with — a smirk curving up his mouth when he finally found her by the other side of the living room.

After that, the night had seemed to move rather fast.

Hyunjin had gone up to her and her friends, made his smooth way into the conversation, and managed to get her away from their little circle in a matter of minutes — snatching a seat on the white leather sofa, that left them with little to no space in between their bodies. Lucky him.

However, although he had managed to find the girl he had been looking for since he got there, and although she was now only a couple of centimeters away from him as they shamelessly flirted back and forth, he couldn't seem to stop his eyes from wandering around the place, not exactly knowing what they were looking for.

His aimless stare found its focus when a group of people sat down in a circle near the sofa they were sitting down on, one of them bringing an empty soju bottle and loudly announcing that a round of spin the bottle was about to begin.

Hyunjin rolled his eyes for the third time that night. Lame. But that didn't stop him from looking one by one at each person that had sat down and was willing to play.

None of his friends. So he confirmed when he saw them all still in the previous spot he had left a few minutes ago — a light laugh leaving his mouth at the sight of Chaeryeong pretending to leave Seungmin's side to go play, only to have him pull her right back to him and place his arm around her shoulders. Yeah, they were definitely not playing.

His eyes travelled back to the game already taking place next to him. Still, no sight of you. Thankfully this time.

Hyunjin couldn't stop but wonder what you would've done, had you been there. He had been to a couple of parties you had attended as well, but he had always been too busy hooking up with someone else to pay attention to these games and its players. Had you ever played before? Were you the type to play this kind of game at all? Would you have played had you shown up tonight? Would he have been down to play if you had been currently sitting down on that circle as the bottle started to spin around?

He shook his head in a poor attempt to push all those annoying thoughts away, finishing the rest of his drink in one go and then fixing his eyes on Yerim.

"You want me to bring you another drink?" he offered, motioning to her almost empty cup.

God knows he needed another one.

She nodded, a smile curving up the corners of her mouth. "Another beer would be nice".

"Got it," he smiled, gently taking the cup from her hands and standing up. "Be right back".

His smile would only last the ten seconds span from the couch to the kitchen. The sight of Changbin's back and a pair of arms wrapped around his neck, was all it took for it to be erased.

Hyunjin stood there frozen, holding his breath without even noticing, as he stared at his friend making out with someone who looked a bit too much like you. And he could've sworn his heart stopped for a moment.

Clearing his throat, he excused his way past the few people who were in the kitchen as well —mostly classmates of his that were too busy drinking to mind the two people making out right next to them— and made it to the fridge. Although he tried to keep his eyes focused anywhere else in the room, he could not help but take a look at his hyung. It was no news he disliked the idea of you and Changbin together, in any way possible.

He had already heard you two going at it in his room once, and he had seen you come out of said exact room the morning after. But he had never seen you actually kiss after that one time at the club, when he didn't really seem to care. And the annoying pressure in his chest right now could only tell him how much he genuinely despised the idea of you and Bin together. Even more than he had thought.

Until they pulled away and he realised it was not you. Nor did the girl actually look like you. And he felt like he could breathe and go on with his night again.

His mind was truly somewhere else tonight.

Taking a deep breath to try and compose himself, he proceeded to open the fridge like he had meant to from the beginning, so he could take a can of beer for Yerim out of it.

"Can you get me one?" Bin asked him from behind, earning a small jump from Hyunjin.

"Uh, sure" he mumbled, shakily reaching for another beer and handing it to his hyung.

As Changbin opened it and took a sip, Hyunjin couldn't stop his eyes from travelling to the girl a couple of meters away, who was now talking to another of his classmates. He quickly recognized her as Soyeon, one of the popular acting majors he used to see at every other party, and he couldn't help but wonder how come he had for one second thought her dyed bright red hair belonged to you.

"Don't you even think about cockblocking me tonight" Changbin warned with a taunting smirk once he caught on Hyunjin's stare on her.

Hyunjin rolled his eyes, leaning back on the now closed fridge. "Don't intend to".

"Because she's not Y/N," Changbin took a sip of his beer. "Otherwise you would've already been pulling her away, wouldn't you?"

"I wouldn't…" Hyunjin's voice came out way too uncertain for his own liking. "I thought you… she…"

Changbin followed his friend's gaze once more, a knowing smile parting his lips when his eyes fixed on Soyeon and he got what Hyunjin was trying to say.

"Y/N didn't come," he repeated what everyone had already let him know. "So don't worry, I'm not making out with her tonight".

Hyunjin scoffed. He did so not care about that. Although the last addition of the word 'tonight' did not sit quite well with him.

"I know".

"Go back to your hookup then," Bin motioned towards the beer Hyunjin was holding, guessing it was for someone else. "There's nothing for you to worry about here".

"I'm staying here for a bit longer" Hyunjin stated, placing the beer can on the kitchen counter and pulling his phone out of his pocket. "You can go back to sucking faces, though".

Changbin smiled, saying nothing more as he made his way back to the awaiting girl. Hyunjin gawked loudly when Bin's mouth crashed against hers — feeling accomplished the moment he got flipped off by his hyung.

Taking his phone out, he bit his lip as he considered whether he should do what he was about to or not. His thumbs acted before his mind, however, opening your chat and wasting no time on typing the words before he could give it another thought.

You had been on his mind all night, it was driving him crazy. Hearing his friends tell him you weren't coming was not enough anymore, he needed to hear it from you. Well, read it from you. That way he would stop thinking about you being there when you were not, and he would be able to focus on his night with Yerim.

What he didn't expect was for his plans to change as soon as you confirmed what he wanted to know and told him you were not coming, for his priorities to change the second you told him you were at the art studio alone and would be walking home on your own in the middle of the night, and to feel the need to go to you when, on top of all that, you said your head hurt.

He didn't even realise when he had told you he was coming to you, but he didn't regret saying it either.

Grabbing the beer can once more and leaving the empty cup of soju on the counter —as he would not be drinking anymore—, he made his way to let his friends know he was leaving earlier and then to the girl who was still waiting for him on the sofa. She smiled as soon as she saw him walking towards her, and just for a moment, Hyunjin wondered whether he should fuck up this new chance he had to hook up with her, for you. It only lasted a second, then he was handing the beer to Yerim and explaining to her that an emergency had come up and he needed to leave right away.

So he left, with the promise of seeing each other later.

And then there he was fifteen minutes later, paying for a bottle of water for you after having dropped by his dorm so he could get you some painkillers for your headache.

Life surely was unpredictable.

—-—-—-—-—-—-—♡

Hyunjin hissed when he tripped on the main entrance's staircase, for a moment there wondering why the hell your faculty was so goddamn dark, before it hit him what time it actually was.

He had never been to the art studio at night. He had hardly ever made it to the art studio at all — mostly to one of the art classrooms whenever Mrs. Moon asked him to model for her students. Seungmin was the only friend of his who was an art major, after all, and he had never needed his presence at the studio other than for a few coffee runs here and there. Of course you were there, too, but up until last month he would never have gone all the way there just because you needed him to. Not past midnight at least. Definitely not when he was at a party, just about to hook up with someone else. Unlike now.

Something had changed, that he could not deny. He didn't know what exactly, or maybe he refused to put his finger on it because he did not like the answer. But something had definitely changed between the two of you for him to offer to bring you painkillers all the way here and to walk you home afterwards.

A small smile he could not suppress made its way to his lips as he thought about how ridiculous the whole situation was, how ridiculous he must've looked to his friends and anyone else when he told them he was leaving the party to go see you instead. God, he didn't even want to think about all the questions they would ask the next day.

At least he wouldn't look ridiculous by tripping again, he thought as he reached the hallway to the art studio and was met with the rather bright lights of it turned on, which he guessed was your doing as the self-proclaimed ultimate nerd. It didn't last long, though, for as soon as he entered the studio, he was met with mostly darkness all over again — a dim light coming from a lamp in the corner being all he could count on to recognize your sleeping figure by one of the desks.

Another smile took over his face at the sight of you, staring at you from afar for a couple of seconds before he quietly made his way over to you. Your face remained slightly hidden in between your folded arms over the table, messy strands of hair helping to cover you up some more, yet he still managed to get a glimpse of your closed eyes and the faintly still fresh painting under your body.

Taking a seat right in front of you and placing the bottle of water he had brought for you on the table, he found himself internally debating whether he should wake you up or not. He knew he had to, there was no way you were spending the night there, but you looked so peaceful right then, body softly moving up and down with each breath you took, that he couldn't help but feel bad to disturb your sleep.

"Y/N…" Hyunjin whispered after a while, reaching over the desk to gently shake your shoulder. "Hey…"

"Mm…" you whined, weakly trying to free yourself from his hold.

"Y/N," he shook you once more, this time getting you to open your heavy eyes. "You fell asleep".

"What time is it?" you mumbled, voice hoarse as you were just starting to take in your surroundings.

"A little past one" he let you know.

You nodded, muffling a yawn against your forearm before you sat up straight, tiredly rubbing your eyes and then fixing your hair at the realisation of Hyunjin being the one you were in front of — remaining absolutely clueless about the blue oil paint stain adorning your cheekbone.

He, on the other hand, didn't fail to notice as soon as your face was no longer hidden. A small, breathy laugh escaped his lips at the sight of it. Cute.

"Are you feeling better?" he wondered.

You shrugged. "Don't know…" your eyes wandered around the poorly illuminated room before they focused on him. "I think so?"

"You think so?" he chuckled. "You still need the pills?"

"Mhm…" you nodded. "I didn't make you come all the way here over nothing".

"You didn't make me," he corrected you, reaching into his jean's pocket for the painkillers tablet he had brought. "I offered".

"More like didn't give me a choice" you taunted with a small smile.

Hyunjin laughed, shaking his head in defeat. "You seem to be a lot better, you sure this wasn't a trap?"

You rolled your eyes, snatching the tablet from his hand and taking a single pill from it. "I guess the nap helped a bit".

"Mhm…" Hyunjin agreed, taking the lid off the bottle and then handing it over to you. "Good thing I came, otherwise you would've spent the night here for what I could see".

"My saviour" you cynically over-dramatized as you put the pill in your mouth, taking the bottle he was offering you and sipping down a good amount of water.

"You are very welcome" he smiled, cynically as well.

Only then a genuine smile took over your face, closing your eyes for a moment and leaning back on the chair as you waited for the pill to make effect.

It was oddly comforting how you could so easily go back to joke around with each other after what happened the last time you had seen each other, how comfortable you were in one another's presence even after you hadn't talked at all ever since, and after you had avoided him because you were sure you would burst into tears the moment his eyes locked with your still very embarrassed ones.

None of that seemed to matter right then. You didn't know why, maybe it was the fact that you weren't fully awake yet and didn't have it in you to be embarrassed, but you were thankful you didn't really have to address the past events in order for the two of you to be able to hang out again.

"Thank you," you spoke up after a while. "You really didn't have to come".

"It's okay," he reassured you, carefully watching you close the bottle and place it back down on the table. "I couldn't let you walk to your dorm alone at night whilst having a headache".

"You could've, actually".

"I didn't want to".

"Such a gentleman" you smiled, and he couldn't tell whether you were being honest or you were once again teasing him, like it was oh-so-usual by now.

Therefore, he ended up rolling his eyes and ignoring your comment altogether — eyes travelling down to the painting you had been working on instead. "So what have you been painting all night?"

"Nothing," you replied in a heartbeat, pulling your artwork towards you and under the table embarrassingly fast.

"That didn't look like nothing…" he pointed out, watching as you opened your backpack lying on the floor next to you and shoved the small painting inside. "Yah, why can't I see? I already saw some of it before you snatched it away".

"You don't just go around looking at a lady's painting, Hwang Hyunjin" you brought an offended hand up to your chest.

His mouth opened up in defeat, biting down on his lip to hide the smile that had just made its way to his lips at your words. "I won't show you any of my paintings ever then".

"You've never shown them to me anyway" you playfully stuck your tongue out to him. "You can just take a look around if you're that desperate to see my paintings, though".

"I wanted to see that one, though" he pouted.

Regardless of his bummed up statement, which you were not falling for, Hyunjin proceeded to take a look around your usual working place.

He had seen most of it when Seungmin had asked him to bring the two of you some coffee over a couple of weeks ago, before the —not— double date you had gone on with him and Chaeryeong. Funny how this wasn't actually the first time he had dropped everything else to bring you something.

Everything was pretty much still the same, colourful canvases everywhere in the room making a mess of it, yet somehow filling its white walls with life. Yours in particular remained all piled up by the floor, next to your self-assigned desk. The only difference from the last time he visited was a rather big flower painting on what used to be a blank canvas on an easel. Although he knew you had gotten an A+ on your last assignment, he had never seen the final result, and it only took him one look at it to know why you got the grade you did.

He recognized the flowers on the canvas right away, although the entire scenery portrayed on it gave away that you had decided to paint the ones you had seen by the Han River — more precisely, the ones you had seen with him, when the two of you had gone away from your friends to give them some privacy and ended up wandering around for hours, sitting down after a good while on the green grass a few meters away from the water.

You had pointed out how pretty they were, and he had agreed. That was all there was to the purple lilacs you had dedicated your entire work to, as the rest of the day you had spent it sitting down there, talking and having a laugh. He didn't realise you had been looking at them every other minute, and he most definitely did not think you would get your inspiration from them. Something about the situation made his heart race, however… in a very nice way.

"Watercolor" Hyunjin mumbled, catching your attention as he stood up and walked over to your side of the desk, where the easel with your painting was.

"Huh?"

"You ended up using watercolor," he explained, leaning in to take a closer look at it. "You weren't sure what technique you were going for back then".

"Ah, back at the river?" you guessed, receiving a small nod from him. "Yeah, I mean… I thought of playing it safe with oil painting, but…"

"I told you watercolor was the best way to go" he smiled triumphantly.

You rolled your eyes, standing up as well so you could get closer to him and get a better view of the painting you had already moved past from after it was graded. "Don't get so cocky now. I only went with it because it worked better with the result I was going for".

"Mhm… sure" he teased, dramatically placing a hand on his shoulder after you had lightly shoved him with yours.

"I'm never using watercolor again".

"Aw, never again?" he teasingly pouted, taking one step towards you.

"Nope," you stated. "Well, starting off once I finish the painting I promised Felix".

His eyebrows raised in surprise. "You're painting something for Felix?"

You nodded. "He saw my project when he came by the other day and asked me to make one for him. I mean, I'm sure he was like, half joking, but…"

"How come I don't get a painting from the next Picasso?"

A snort escaped your mouth, followed by an amused shake of your head. "You haven't asked".

"Can I get one?"

"I don't know," you played it hard, puckering your lips and looking at the ceiling deep in thought. "Will I ever get a painting from you?"

"I'm not an art major" he reminded you.

"Doesn't make you any less of an artist" you smiled.

Hyunjin couldn't help but mirror your smile, finding himself undoing the eye contact as he felt his cheeks suddenly burn. "If I say yes, will I get one from you?"

"I asked first".

"No, I asked first" he contradicted.

Rolling your eyes, you stood up straight and folded your arms under your chest. "Yeah, I can do that".

"Okay then," Hyunjin smiled. "I haven't ever painted for anyone, but I guess I could make an exception for you".

Lowering your head in a poor attempt not to show the beaming smile that had taken over your face, you cleared your throat, taking a step back and staring at the rather messy desk you had been working on —and sleeping on—, as you tried to control your heart from going wild.

"So we have a deal?" he leaned slightly in, looking for your eyes.

You nodded, finally looking up at him. "You're probably getting an oil painting, though. That's what I've been mostly into lately".

He chuckled, causing your heart to make another jump the second your eyes caught a glimpse of his hand getting closer. The space from his body to your face felt almost as if it happened in slow motion — until the warmth of his touch was comfortingly placed on your cheek, and his thumb rubbed ever so gently on it.

"Yeah, I can see".

"W-What?"

Hyunjin laughed breathily, running his thumb up and down your cheek once more. "Your cheek is blue".

Being hit by reality, you brought your hand up to cover it, later staring down at your art supplies and only then realising you had fallen asleep on top of the piece you had been working on that evening. "Yah, why didn't you tell me?"

Another laugh escaped Hyunjin's mouth, this time more of a giggle. "Because you look cute".

"Don't," you whined, rubbing your palm against your cheek to try and take the paint off. "I bet I look like an idiot".

"You look cute," he repeated. "I can help you even it up, though".

"Wha—"

Hyunjin's fingertips tracing against the until then clean side of your face was quick to cut your words off, having your stunned eyes travel down to the palette on your desk and then to his hand, only to be hit with realisation at the sight of his freshly yellow painted fingers.

Not like the mischievous smile parting his lips and the loud giggle that escaped them right after didn't give away what he had just done anyway.

"Hwang Hyunjin!" you recriminated him, reaching for the palette and staining your fingers with fresh paint as well.

"Wait, no" he backed away as soon as he saw you were about to take revenge. "No, I'm no—"

His mouth remained open forming a perfect 'o' once you had smashed a mixture of blue and yellow on his chin, being now his turn to watch you laugh.

That lasted a little over three seconds. After that, chaos was unleashed as he snatched the palette from next to you and started merciless chasing you around the studio.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" you pleaded in between your own laughter as you went around the desk.

"Saying sorry won't save you" he warned you, smiling when he managed to corner you against it and the wall.

"Careful with the clothes," you begged, holding your hands up in front of him for him to stay away. "Careful with th—Hyunjin!"

He threw his head back to let out a throaty laugh after having smashed some more paint on you, this time on your neck, as you had not stopped moving while he aimed for your chin.

"If you stained my sweater I swear t—"

"I didn't," he reassured you with a smirk. "This wouldn't have happened if you hadn't put paint on me".

You scoffed in utter disbelief. "Excuse me, you're the one who started".

Hyunjin chuckled. "I was only trying to even up the stain you gave yourself".

"It's only fair I even up that stain on your chin then" you nodded, reaching out to get more paint from the palette he was holding.

"It's right in the middle, there's nothing to even up" he pointed out, squinting his eyes at you after you had painted his cheek instead.

"Oops," you cynically pouted. "Seems like I will have to even that up now".

He rolled his eyes, both in amusement and resignation, and turned his cheek to you while he leant in, so you could get it over with. You smiled, letting out a giggle that had him smiling as well before he once more felt your fingertips trace against his cheek — this time slower, gentler, as you no longer feared getting caught by him.

"Happy?" he wondered, turning to you.

"Mhm…" you managed to get out, gulping down your nervousness at the sudden closeness — memories from the last time you had him this close invading your mind. "We should, um… I should get m-my things, so we can leave…"

"I haven't evened up the stain on your neck, though".

Your heart jumped, and a wave of heat reached your face. "Haven't you painted me enough?"

"Nope," he smiled, placing the palette down on the desk and taking some more blue paint from it. "It's only fair".

You rolled your eyes, clearing your throat as quietly as you could not to show how nervous you were. Nevertheless, you tilted your head to the side, resignatedly exposing your neck to him. "If you say it's only fair…"

He laughed under his breath, using one of his clean fingers to move your hair behind your shoulder and avoid getting oil paint on it. "You know it is".

You didn't know why you felt the way you did, he was literally just putting some paint on your skin like he had already done two other times by now, that was it. However, your knees went weak at the contact of his fingers against your skin — his every trace burning down each inch they touched. He had already painted your cheek and the other side of your neck, but his touch right then didn't feel quite like it had felt before.

Ten seconds felt like an eternity, as his gentle touch and his calm breathing hitting your skin had sent you over the moon.

"Are you painting something over there?" you wondered when his traces no longer felt like simple lines, earning a small laugh under his breath.

"Just a couple of lines" Hyunjin reassured.

You didn't buy it. "If you're drawing something embarrassing, I—"

"Okay," he mumbled, standing up straight with one last tap to your neck. "We're even now".

You leaned slightly back, trying your hardest to look down to your neck, although you knew there was no use. "It's done?"

Hyunjin nodded, smiling ever so softly when your eyes fixed on his. You had never seen that look on him, not towards you, and for a moment there you allowed yourself to have hope — hope about him maybe, deep down, having feelings for you, too.

And that hope was only reassured when his hand reached up to cup your cheek for the second time that night, rubbing tender circles near the corner of your mouth that took your breath away.

"I don't think there is anything else for you to even up now…" you pointed out in a whisper, voice failing you under his intense stare.

"Y/N?" he asked, eyes travelling from your lips to your anticipating eyes.

"Mm?"

"Does your head still hurt?"

You laughed quietly, breathily. "Kinda forgot about it with the whole you chasing me around thing".

Hyunjin smiled. "Good".

Just like that, he leaned in and closed the space between your mouths — plump, soft lips trapping your bottom one, as you remained too stunned to do anything other than close your eyes and get lost in the gentle touch of his you had craved for so long.

It roughly lasted five seconds, maybe six. Too short of a time for you to be able to tell whether you were dreaming or not. Yet that was all it took for you to wonder how you could have survived all this time without getting a taste of his lips. All it took for you to want more, for you to know you needed more.

One look at Hyunjin and the way his eyes once again travelled back down from your eyes to your mouth, was all it took for you to know he was feeling the same.

And just like that, his mouth was back on yours, and you confirmed this was indeed not a dream, nor your recent headache driving you mad.

You kissed him back this time, melting under the touch and taste of his lips, and the warmth of his hand as it travelled down from your cheek to your neck. Your hand rested comfortably on his chest while your other arm wrapped around his neck, tugging at his t-shirt when you stumbled against the desk he was cornering you against.

That seemed to give him the perfect opportunity to lift you up and sit you down by the edge of it, barely giving you time to adjust when his hands were tightly grabbing your waist and his mouth was back on yours.

Bringing your other arm up around his neck as well, you tightened your hold around it, letting out a contented hum before opening your mouth and allowing his tongue to gently massage yours.

A part of you still felt like you were dreaming with each touch of his. The way his hands moved slightly down to your hips and tightened their hold on them to pull you closer to him, the way his thumbs caressed the spot they were resting on, the way his hot mouth felt on yours, and how his heavy breathing would hit your face… it all felt too perfect, too dreamy to be true.

It only hit you that you were in the middle of the art studio when Hyunjin's hand pressed to your lower back and his body leaned over yours, placing your hand on the desk to keep your balance and managing to press it down on the long forgotten palette instead.

"Wait, wait" you mumbled against his lips, pushing him slightly away by his chest. "Someone could walk in".

"Don't care" he whispered, trapping your lip in between his once more — only for you to pull away and stare at him with incredulous eyes.

"Are you drunk?" you questioned.

"No," his eyebrows furrowed. "I only had one drink the whole night, do I seem drunk to you?"

You denied with your head.

He smiled, stealing another kiss from you. "Do I taste drunk to you?"

Your cheeks burned at his question. You denied again. "Last time, though…"

Hyunjin sighed, defeatedly resting his forehead on yours at the memory of the way he had pushed you away when Yerim walked into the dance studio. "I wouldn't have pulled away if you had been kissing me like this".

You playfully shoved him away, hearing a loud giggle escape his mouth as your face burned up harder. "You're the one kissing me".

"Maybe…" he murmured, already back at looking for your lips. "But you're not stopping me".

Rolling your eyes in feigned annoyance, you pulled him into another kiss, feeling like your heart would burst out of your chest when you felt his breathy laugh against your mouth, taking a moment to cup your cheek and deepen the kiss.

You swore you could kiss him all night. Especially since, even if it hurt to admit, you didn't know if you would ever get to kiss him again and feel as good as you were feeling right then.

This could only be a one time thing as far as you knew. You wished it wasn't. You truly wished it wasn't. But you were making the most out of it regardless.

No matter how long you could kiss him for, however, you knew reality would hit at some point. It was his phone buzzing in his pocket, the one to bring you back to it.

You had both ignored it at first, being too busy getting a taste of each other to care about anything else, but Hyunjin ended up breaking the kiss apart when it wouldn't stop — not without having first let out a frustrated sigh and mumbled a small 'sorry' against your swollen lips.

"You're not answering it?" you couldn't help but wonder after he had taken one small look at the screen and shoved it right back in his pocket.

He shook his head no, resting his hands on your thighs and smiling before pecking your mouth. "I can get back to them later".

You bit your bottom lip, smiling against his mouth when he leaned in to steal another kiss you didn't wait to return. "We should probably leave…"

"Mm…" he whined against your mouth. "Just a little more…"

A light laugh escaped your lips, pulling him in by placing your hand on the back of his neck and planting two chaste kisses to his needy mouth. "It's like, two in the morning by now…"

He sighed, reluctantly letting go of you and resting his forehead on your shoulder for a second before he stood up straight. "It's not that late but okay, let's go".

"I thought you wanted to go back to the party after dropping me off?" you pointed out, getting off the desk and going to pick up your bag.

"Nah, I'm not going back there" he shrugged, rolling his eyes with a smile when you questioningly squinted your eyes at him. "I'm not!"

"If you say so…" you shrugged as well, throwing your bag over your shoulder and turning the lamp by your working spot off.

Maybe not the brightest of decisions, considering the room went nearly pitch black, if it weren't for the hallway's lights giving you some sense of visibility. That didn't stop you from stumbling against one of the chairs as you reached Hyunjin's side.

"Easy," he teased, grabbing your wrist even though you were far from falling down. You didn't protest. "Do I have to carry you out of here?"

"Shut up" you half whined, half laughed, sticking next to him as the two of you made your way out of the studio.

You couldn't help but smile as soon as the light of the hallway hit his face, only then realising how pink his lips were as a result of your previous doings. Somehow, that simple sight had managed to make the entire situation feel more real.

And if it weren't because you had gathered every single bit of self-control in your body, you would've pulled him into another kiss right then and there.

"What?" he dumbfoundedly asked at the sight of your shy smile.

You shook your head in response, trying your best to brush it off as you reached for his cheek and traced one of the oil paint stains your fingers had left. "You look ridiculous".

Hyunjin's mouth opened in full offense. "Here I was calling you cute, and now you go and insult me".

"Well, you do look ridiculous" you laughed, earning a small shove from his shoulder on yours. "Let's hope it washes off easily".

He shrugged. "It was worth it anyway".

Your heart jumped at the sound of his words, standing still in the middle of the hallway as Hyunjin resumed walking towards the exit. It didn't take long for him to realise you were not following — turning around and tilting his head when he saw you just standing there, staring at him in complete awe.

"You coming?"

You nodded your head, still a bit stunned as you were brought back to your senses. Taking a deep breath to try and collect yourself, you rushed next to him once again, so you could for once and for all begin your ten minutes journey to your dorm.

Although you didn't want this moment to ever end, and you loved the thought of walking home alone with him, a part of you hoped to get there soon. You didn't know how much longer you would last before the realisation of tonight's events hit and your knees finally gave out.

tag list: @blaaiissee @hyuneytoast @staysuki @tardiscompanion @princehyun-jin @hyuka-luvbot @halesandy @nattisbored @qnjayn @hibuki-chan @purenjuniverse @seungly @suhnnyskiess @midsoulz @yellowroseskolchek @esme-ordaz @perriwiinkle @n4n444 @andnowimtalkingtomyself @leafyshroom @emmie5168 @soobin-chois @readingfanfic-ly @multifandomizer @elviransworld @valewoos @ktttwwn @hazzaloveschopsuey @hannahdinse8 @youngestdelacour @zoe8stay @sadbixth11 @phenomenalgirl9 @hwangful @aeminju @threevracha @kai-maree @laryisthinking @wolfietara @iam2out @kingggjaay @cosmic-railwayxo @straykidsficsrecsbaby @marsophilia @choibeomgogi @ddaengpotate @oceanyocean @rinsdesires @jhslmhbtsskz @lixlovesworld

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sunflower-author · 4 months

Note

Hello 😁🤚🏻

I hope you are in good health and have a full spirit 💖

I'm having trouble getting in a writing mood and reading others story always make me happy. I've never really sent request before so this would be my frist, I hope it's not much trouble, and if you can't find inspiration for it, I'll understand if you can't or don't want to do it.

I was hoping you could write a yandere assassination classroom, the entire class of 3-E or just a few like Karma, Nagisa, Itona (anyone really) with a reader that couldn't care less about their yandere nature, and someone blurts out (do to feeling guilty) that they have been stalking them home and had taking some of their stuff (the class thinking reader will get mad) but reader just shrugged and say they already knew and that they need to work on their stalking because she figured them out on day 2. Gender doesn't matter, but if you do gender fluid that be nice if not anything else is good.

If you don't wish to write it, please say no◇

Please have a good day/night. ♡

SO SORRY!! This took much longer than I anticipated for!!

I really hope you like it!! If not please lmk on things I can fix!!!

Also, somehow this was a bit rushed too sorry!

~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~

"Hey Ritsu, are you connected?" Tomohito asks, sitting down at a desk beside her.

"Yes, the girls put the cameras in, there are no blind spots," Ritsu answers.

"Wait, no blind spots? Wouldn't that be... I don't know..." Kaede says worried.

"The cameras are only in their living room, we didn't put any cameras in anything else if that was what you were thinking," Tomohito says reassuring Kaede.

"Well we did put some listening devices, in some of the plushies we gave them, isn't that right? Itona?" Rio asks, putting an arm around him.

"Making them was a bit tricky, but it was a lot easier to make than the cameras," Itona says, playing with his remote car.

"You guys are seriously trying too hard," Karma says, in a mocking tone having his dumb smirk, plastered on his face.

"Really now? and what do you suggest we do differently?" Ryoma asks, clearly annoyed.

"You all a bunch of babies, if you really loved Y/N you'll skip this boring stalking thing, and just take things into your own hands," Karma says, with a statistic smile.

"If we were to do that Y/N would hate us forever," Nagisa counters back.

"Really?, Because I think that if we keep them long enough, they will eventually fall for us, I mean humans are social creatures, needing contact in order to survive, with us being their only contact they will eventually fall for us, right?" Karma says explaining.

"Even if that were to happen, if we keep them isolated they might break, losing themselves then loving us, I don't want that to happen," Nagisa says seriously, looking up at Karma.

"A small price that might be paid," Karma says, shrugging "But if it were just me, they wouldn't break, but now that I am sharing the chances would be higher," he says as if the class were all just a nuisance.

"Guys! Shut Up! Y/N just walked into the building!" Hinata says, panting a bit as she just ran into the room.

With that, the room goes silent...

Until...

"Takuya I'm sorry, but I'm busy after school today how about tomorrow?" you say walking in the room. All eyes are on you, ".....Um.. Hey guys?" you say unsurely.

The tension in the room faded, and they all started talking like nothing happened. It was a bit scary how the mood can change like a flip of a switch.

"Hey Y/N! What were you talking about with Takuya?" Manami asks, in her usual timid voice.

"Oh just if I was able to hand out at the ramen place later on today, but I'm hanging out with Rinka and Ryunosuke later," you say casually.

"Heh, sorry Takuya but there are already three of us, maybe next time we'll invite you," Rinka says teasingly.

"Hey Y/N, do you wanna come with me to the teacher's lounge? Korosensei just came back from Germany yesterday," Kaede asks, popping her head out the door. "Sounds fun and good, I'm in," you say excitedly, as you head out the door.

Takuya waits for your footsteps to become gone before saying "You just want more pictures of Y/N that's the only reason you and Ryunosuke, are taking them out," clearly annoyed.

"Oh whatever, you always like looking at the pictures in the end, just like everyone else," Ryunosuke says rolling his eyes.

"I.. just make sure they're good," Takuya says embarrassed.

"Your talking to the best snippers in class 3-E, we always have good visuals on our target," Rinka says, hearing the pride in her voice.

"I thought you guys said that Rinka and Ryunosuke stopped taking pictures of Y/N?" Manami asks worried.

"I... well... it's complicated," Hiroto says, trying to explain it to her, as he was the one who told Manami that they stopped taking pictures of Y/N.

"He obviously lied to you," Karma says blankly. "Your too empathic, we needed you to stop worrying over Y/N, knowing that you would break, telling them everything... well ruining everything for all of us," Karma says explaining.

"I admit that I'm not the best actor, but you guys didn't have to lie about Y/N, I care about them, just as much as any of you guys, I even made the drugs you asked for," Manami says, as he holds up a bag of different bottles.

"Wait... what drugs?" Nagisa asks, confused and curious.

"You know the the drugs, I made my own chloroform, something that calms the mind, something that weakens muscles, and lastly something that can make them sleepy," Manami says explaining.

"We didn't... Karma!" Nagisa says, angry by the thought Karma would do such a thing.

"So what if I was, I promise I won't do it alright, especially now that you know," Karma says as he puts his hands up.

"Hey guys! We're back," Kaede says, walking through the door. Signaling to everyone that you are nearby, it became a habit sometimes when they talk they become so engaged in the conversation, that they lose track of anything else, including your presence.

"Ah Y/N, just the person I wanted to see," Karma says, with a sweet smile. You know something is up when he smiles like that, just when does he normally smile sweetly?

"Karma... what do you want?" You ask hesitantly, staying cautious.

"You know, we barely spend time with each other, most of the time you just hang out with everyone else... it seems like your avoiding me," he says hurt, clearly acting.

"Karma you know that's not true, everyone just makes plans with me every single second of the day, you know this, so what's your point?" you ask, wondering what he is trying to say.

"It's just that...don't you think it's a bit odd... that every day you have someone that wants to hang out with you, it's a bit abnormal behavior? Ever noticed how everyone treats you slightly differently? Or the fact that they know small details about you, that you've never shared before? Do you wonder why is that?" Karma says still smiling, but with a mischievous face.

"Karma..." Nagisa says, with a dark look, warning Karma.

"You messed up my plan, I'm just returning the favor," Karma says looking at Nagisa, then turns to you.

"Well, don't you?" Karma says in a smug tone.

"... I wonder why, on my first day of school, Rinka and Ryunosuke were following me home, I wonder why Kotaro somehow knows when I'm going to mess up on things, I wonder why Nagisa has a whole notebook dedicated to me, and lastly I wonder why you act so innocent when you are the worst one out of everyone, do seriously think I don't know that you hurt people that I talk to that is not in this class? And a whole lot more things of you and the rest of the class," You say, calm and collected.

"You knew this whole time?..." Nagisa asks with wide eyes.

"Anyone would have been able to see and know what you all were planning," You say turning to look back at him. (Any normal person would be oblivious to it all)

"Heh, I knew I couldn't fall in love with just any normal person, turns out you truly are unique," Karma says proud that you were conscious of what they were doing.

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babybreadddd · 4 months

Text

sorry no cure

characters: hyunjin x f!reader, established relationship

summary: (for u to find out!)

warnings: angst, cursing, arguing

a/n: its my first short fic, i hope you like it! ending is up to your interpretation, might do a pt2 ?

wc: 1.2k

in reality hyunjin isn't like this!!!! they are all cute, nice and friendly!! this is not the actual character of hyune!!

nothing was going your way. your heartless boss just dumped paperwork on you - on a weekend and demanded it to be done by monday. he took advantage of your willingness, your eager-to-please personality to make you do his dirty work. and at what expense?

you suffering, toiling on a saturday, one where you should be enjoying your day at home with hyunjin.

well, there was no point stopping your work. hyunjin wasn't home. he was out, going to a dance class.

i have to finish this quick, then wash up and clean the house... then i have to go grocery shopping, and maybe pay my sick dad a visit? if i finish my work, maybe i could get a quick treat. like, some acai?

oh, wait. you can't. money's tight, and well, acai is expensive. right.

you sighed internally. all you could do as you trudged through your work was to hope that hyunjin would come home in a good mood and comfort you, and what you could do now, was just to keep your mood from spiraling. too many worries spinning around. you couldn't keep this up for much longer.

hours passed quickly. with each passing hour, bottles upon bottles of caffeine were downed, your mind becoming a hazy mess as you mindlessly do your work.

you can't take it anymore. you detach yourself from your work and let your body slump on your chair. your eyes hurt, so you close them and leave your mind wandering.

screw your boss who doesn't respect your boundaries. screw you, who doesn't have enough guts to stand up for yourself and say no. you brought this suffering upon yourself, and now you're facing the consequences of your actions.

none of this could have happened if you said no. it's not like you would be fired if you said no. just accept reality - you're a people pleaser, and you're so easily manipulated by people. in all honesty, doing someone else's work isn't pleasant, but you feel validated. you live for the commendation, the acknowledgement, the applause. no matter how bad it feels, as long as someone validates you - that you've worked hard, you're someone, someone kind and loveable - that's all you care about.

and seeking that feeling, that validation has led you to this hell of a mess. it's all my fault right? you need to stop seeking validation, and just do your work well, and not overwork yourself. sounds simple enough?

the creak of the door opening sends you out of your trance. you see hyunjin, mustering a slight smile at the sight of you. he's definitely tired and exhausted.

you're still deep in your emotions, but you manage to get out a small "hi baby. how are you?"

"fine. did you get my art supplies?"

shit. his art supplies….you were too absorbed in doing your work that you forgot about it.

well, he's gonna get mad at you and then there goes your whole day. you can imagine it in your brain - work, arguments, maybe even sleeping in separate rooms? fighting with hyunjin over the smallest things often progressed to long, cold days of isolation where no exchanges would take place, and each would ignore the other, until one of you finally gave in.

no. i can't let that happen. it was painful for both of us last time, it hurt both of us.

you swallow your pride and mumble out a "sorry."

"sorry no cure, y/n."

you gasped internally. yes, hyunjin could be a little snarky during arguments, but that- wasn't that crossing a line? you always promised each other that no matter what, sorrys were the way to fix arguments, no matter how many apologies it took.

the word "sorry" in an argument meant so much. it meant putting your pride down, telling yourself you were wrong and that you'd do something to make amends.

the fact that he'd rejected a "sorry"? it's just paint supplies, it's not even something as important as missing a date! besides, he only does painting in his free time, and he barely spends time with me, what more painting?

"if sorry isn't a cure, then i'm not sorry for not getting you your painting supplies. get it yourself if it's so important." your emotions exploded. you were tired and irritable, and now you had to argue with the stubborn hyunjin? nevertheless, it hurt you so much to spit those venomous words out at him, but how could you break in front of his snarky comments? never.

an expression appears on his face, but it disappears quickly. you're not sure what it is, but you could pinpoint it to be something of horror and shock.

i've done some horrible damage this time.. i'm going to pay for it sooner or later. in fights like this, the worse thing you've done is to say some sharp words, give him the cold treatment and wait for a while before someone gives in and you both will be good. but this time, you're not too sure.

your pride, just put down a few seconds ago, begins to rise. you give him one more jab, scoffing lightly, "go get them now. you'll come back to a nice and quiet house with no one to quarrel with you. you like that? of course you do. i bet you hate me because i've failed you so many times."

that was the breaking point for hyunjin. he stepped closer to you, your gaze meeting his. your instinct was to flinch and take a step back, but for the sake of your pride, you didn't. instead, you stared right back into his eyes, emotionless.

before you knew it, you felt your composure cracking as you stared cold and hard into his brown eyes, each willing the other to break. you felt yourself breaking under his glare. exasperated, you sent him a death stare before you took your phone and keys, and muttered a quick "i need space" and left your shared home. you desperately wanted to take back your sharp words that plunged a knife straight to his heart, but how could you? you can't.

in arguments like this, you can't just turn back. you swallowed your pride to say sorry, and he rejects your apology? real nice of him.

and that's how you left him. you might've felt a little better if he had begged you to stay, but you knew he didn't want to give you the satisfaction of knowing he wouldn't want you to leave, that he still loves you, and he's sorry. that's hyunjin though.

4 sentences exchanged and that caused a fracture in your relationship with him. all you wanted when he came home was to give you comforting hugs and cuddles to soothe you from the stress of your work. and you'd do the same too, and you both would have a cozy day together. turns out fate had other plans for you.

you won't be coming back to this apartment for a while. you've plunged the knife in, turned and twisted it and there was probably nothing you could do to patch his broken heart back up. besides, you'd need to wait for him to cave first.

unknown to you, he was already working out a plan to get you back. you'd hate it, but it'll bring you back to him.

don't copy my work/post on other platforms! thanku :))) reblogs are appreciated and thanks for reading!

#hyunjin x reader #yay it's done #stray kids #stray kids angst #hyunjin #stray kids drabbles #stray kids x reader

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yanderes-galore · 3 months

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Hi could I please request something from Disney mirrorverse , how would Yandere rivals go between Maui vs Rapunzel with a darling who came from our world if not maybe the darling a fierce warrior from her dimension? 🌸(it can be romantic or platonic or neural )

Hm, sure! I'll see what I got! Tangled and Moana are some of my favorite movies (Other than Wall-E and Encanto), especially for soundtracks, so I'm hyped!

Also, apologies for calling "Fractured" the "Shattered" last Mirrorverse fic, that's fixed now.

Edit: Sorry this isn't that intense, I couldn't figure out how to place any violent scenes so it's more just heavy manipulation.

Yandere! Mirrorverse! Maui vs Yandere! Mirrorverse! Rapunzel

(Darling from the real world)

Pairing: Romantic/Platonic - Rivalry

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Overprotective behavior, Clingy behavior implied, Jealousy, Isolation, Dubious companionship.

Rapunzel is described in Mirrorverse as being full of energy and determination.

She leaps headstrong into adventure and was granted great strength and healing powers.

She is a great healing ally for her team.

Maui is described in Mirrorverse as strong and witty.

He is primarily known for his strength as a guardian, making him an excellent tank.

Of course, these guardians also share traits with their normal selves.

Rapunzel is smart, clever, playful, kind, naive, adventurous, etc.

Maui is egotistical, mischievous, self-centered, brash, occasionally bitter, insecure, brave, etc.

You meet these two upon being sent to the Mirrorverse.

As you are from our world, you may not have any powers.

Yet maybe the Stellar Mirror gave you some magic to survive in this land of Fractured.

Maybe even meeting Rapunzel and Maui was fate.

When you first enter the Mirrorverse you are confused.

You're scared when Fractured come to attack, only to be saved by Rapunzel and Maui.

Maui takes time to wipe out the Fractured while Rapunzel gets to work on healing you.

You aren't safe until they take you back to base, getting you checked and asking about yourself.

Rapunzel is the one to ask the questions, her tone is gentle as she learns about you.

When you explain where you came from, Rapunzel and the rest of the guardians are confused at first.

Then again, it can't be too different, can it?

Many guardians come from all sorts of backgrounds.

Although Rapunzel can tell from your tone you really want to get home.

So until they find a way to get you home, you're put on a team with Rapunzel and Maui.

Even if you have limited/no magic, these two can protect you the best they can through your journey.

With Maui's strength and Rapunzel's healing, you'll be fine.

The biggest issue you're dealing with... is the attachment Rapunzel and Maui have towards you.

I have a feeling Rapunzel would be very gentle and caring in her obsession but can be assertive if someone does something she doesn't like.

Meanwhile Maui would be charismatic, assertive, and charming towards his obsession regardless of his intentions.

As this is a rivalry, both of them realize how they feel towards you.

Plus, they both feel the other isn't a good fit.

Rapunzel thinks Maui will get you hurt and won't care for you as much as she can.

Maui has similar feelings except it's because he feels Rapunzel can't protect and support you as much as he can.

They could be fighting over who's your closest friend... who's your lover... something in between... but there's one thing they do agree on.

They don't want you going back home.

Can't you tell you're needed here?

They assure you they they're "looking".

However... they aren't.

Instead the two are bickering about who gets to keep you/who you like more.

Even when Mickey says he's found a way to bring you home, your two yanderes hide that info from you.

That's the one thing they agree on.

Both of the guardians want to protect you here in the Mirrorverse.

In their eyes, protecting you is keeping you here.

After all... they can't protect you if you aren't here.

What if you get hurt?

Who will be there to comfort you?

Don't you feel secure in Maui's strong arms?

Don't you feel cared for when Rapunzel speaks to you and heals your wounds?

Maybe you were brought here for a reason?

Ever thought maybe you belong here?

Maui and Rapunzel certainly think so.

While the two continue to quarrel on who deserves you, they keep telling you lies.

You should just stop trying to go home...

You belong here... with one of them.

#yandere disney #yandere disney mirrorverse #yandere maui #yandere mirrorverse maui #yandere rapunzel #yandere mirrorverse rapunzel

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welldonebeca · 9 months

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Glitter and Goo*

Summary: When you have to go on a mission to a different planet together, Bucky is hit by a mating ritual flower, and some feelings you two have been hiding come up. AKA: It’s a sex pollen fic with a side of breeding kink. Pairing: Bucky x F!Reader Warnings: Tension. Romantic tension. Fluff. Dirty talking. Sex promises. Passionate sex. Breeding kink. Praising kink. Size difference. Cock warming. Fluff. Aftercare. Comfort.

You watched the door of the ship nervously as Bucky ran up, keeping your distance as he practically barked at you in the COM system to do.

"Are you sure you're alright?" you insisted as he walked past you, sniffing, a little irritated on the nose.

What was that smell?

"I'm fine," he grunted. "I just need to clean up."

You hesitated a bit. The two of you were alone in that mission, to find some special element on a different planet.

"Did you get it?" you asked him, crossing your arms.

Bucky walked into the isolated decontamination shower.

"I did," he called from inside. "It's in my pocket."

You walked near the door, trying not to look inside.

"Get me a ziplock bag," he commanded.

"Are you sure you are alright?" you insisted. "Bucky, if it sprayed on you-"

He didn't even let you finish.

"I'll be fine," he snapped. "Just get me the ziplock bag!"

You stood stiffly, surprised by the harsh words.

Now, that wasn't like Bucky.

He sighed on the other side.

"Sorry," he spoke quickly. "I'm just... I want to wash this off of me."

You walked to the side, taking some of the ziplock bags you had.

"What happened?" you asked him, showing the empty ziplock to him.

The door opened slightly, and he pulled it from your hand quickly, closing the door again.

"Fucking flower exploded in front of me when I was kneeling," Bucky explained. "There's powder and goo everywhere. But I'm alright, really. Just... let me shower."

You pressed your lips together, but kept quiet, not wanting to fight with him and have a long, awkward trip back home. It was just the two of you for two fucking days.

"Do you want me to get you a change of clothes?" you offered.

This wasn't your shared bathroom, it was a fucking decontamination shower.

Bucky sighed.

"Yeah," he decided. "Please."

You did, placing it down in the exit and putting your protection equipment before taking his clothes and the element.

His jacket was covered in some pink shimmery dust, as he had just gotten in the way of a glitter bomb.

You took some of it too, putting it in your database, along with some of the goo, though most of it seemed to have dried already. The best-case scenario was that nothing would happen, but it was best to be safe.

"Friday?" you called. "Can you send a copy of these to HQ too? Maybe someone knows what they are."

"Yes, ma'am," the system answered back.

By the time you were done and back, Bucky had left the decontamination shower, and looked very grumpy.

"Hey," you stopped in front of him, still a little hesitant. "Doing alright?"

He glanced up at you, eyes lingering on your chest before moving to your face, scrubbing his metal arm.

"I'll have to get someone to look into my arm," he told you. "I don't know if something got between the plates."

You tilted your head, surprised.

"I thought it was self-cleaning," you noted. "Like... a fancy self-cleaning oven, of sorts."

His lips curled in a tiny smile at your joke.

"Most of the time," he confirmed. "But I never had alien pollen and goo on it before."

You shrugged, amused.

"Well, good luck," you wished him. "I sent that stuff to the database, just to be sure."

He hummed a bit in confirmation, and you left him alone, going to the food supply to fix dinner for you two.

"Bucky?" you called. "Why didn't you tell me they packed us lemons?"

Bucky had been the one to deal with the food on the way up, more used to making food in a ship than you'd ever been.

You looked back at the lack of answer and walked back to where you'd left him, finding him resting back on the wall, looking a little loopy.

"Bucky?" you called.

He jumped, surprised, though his eyes were still heavy.

"Hi," he gasped back. "Sorry, what?"

"Lemons," you told him. "You didn't tell me we had them. I can make lemonade."

Bucky took his hand to his nose, pinching in.

"I'm not hungry," he told you. "Maybe just... I don't know. Squeeze one for yourself?"

You shifted on your feet.

"Are you alright?"

Bucky rubbed his eye.

"Yeah," he waved you a dismissive hand.

"Maybe you should have a nap?" you suggested. "Did you sleep since we left?"

He moved slowly, shaking his head.

"Gotta make sure you're safe," he mumbled. "We're in space."

. . .

"glitter and goo" is a Patreon fic! To read this smutty 4-part-story, subscribe to my page, it's just $2 a month, you have early access to everything I do, and I post nearly everyday. (link takes you to public masterlist)

. . .

Forever Tags: @emoryhemsworth @amythyststorm33 @shaelyn102 @yknott81 @maximofftrash @kgbrenner @thefridgeismybestie @magpiegirl80 @mogaruke @shadowhunter7 @musicalcoffeebean @megasimpleplan4ever @deemoriarty @05spn18 @malindacath @kdcollinsauthor @random-fandom-fangirl2112 @widowsfics @frozenhuntress67 @averyrogers83 @notyourtypicalrose @nerdypinupcrystal @giruvega Marvel forever tags: @its-daydreamer23 @random-fandom-fangirl2112 @tayrae515? @indecisiondecisions? @afanofmanystuffs @patzammit? @thevanishedillusion? @widowsfics? @alexisshoto @princess-evans-addict @dreams-of-feysand @dragonqueen0606 @izbelross @isabelle-faith

#welldonebeca's glitter and goo series #bucky barnes x reader #bucky #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x reader #bucky x reader smut #bucky x reader fluff #bucky x reader fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader smut #bucky barnes x reader fanfiction

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pastanest · 1 year

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A/N: I’m really sorry but read-more links aren’t working on my blog atm, I’ve raised a ticket with Tumblr and they’ve registered it as a bug that they’re looking into but for now I can’t use them because they mess up the whole post :(

Eleventh Doctor x gender!neutral reader

Dating Eleven Would Include

so to begin with, he’d be awkward and clumsy as per usual

over time he gets more accustomed to the blossoming feelings for you and relaxes into them, being more open to flirting back

PDA comes so naturally to him he consistently catches himself out when he becomes aware of the fact he’s holding your hand, swung an arm around you or pulled you in for a hug on instinct

the Doctor is always going out of his way to do sweet things for you

he remembers every place you’ve referenced wanting to visit, every favorite food you’ve mentioned, every dream date idea that he has pried out of you with the least subtle questions and motivations you can imagine

and he uses all of that information to his advantage, regularly planning said dates out for you in the most beautiful places in the universe

a regular picnic? nono, not on the Doctor’s watch. we’re talking planets entirely made of meadows, as far as the eye can see, inhabited by sentient orbs of light that exist in complete peace and harmony, floating around amongst the flowers and creating a field of stars every time the seven sun’s set

a date at the cinema? try the biggest cinema screen in the universe that you have to sit 50 feet away from, with special goggles just to protect your eyes from the power of the light from the screen.

“And it’s not just the screen that’s big, it’s the highest quality speakers ever invented, and they are completely invisible! 4D sound systems? Not here, 8D AND UP ONLY BABY! That does mean that if we see any movie with freak weather patterns, we may have to bring several changes of clothes to suit the climates they simulate around our seats. Which are levitating in total darkness. So we will also need a very powerful torch to find our seats. Which I have already invented, naturally. It plays tense music whenever it’s switched on.”

“That’s a lot to process, but I am stuck on the torch - why did you add tense music as a feature?”

“For dramatic effect, why else?!”

he’s fiercely protective of you

we all know the look in his eyes when the Daleks rock up, the fury that burns when he recalls anything regarding the Time War; that’s the same expression that greets anyone or anything that causes you harm in any way whatsoever

he’s almost scared to admit that he’d tear a planet apart to find you, save you, fix any harm that has been done to you, if that is what it cost

whether you are with him through his regeneration into 11 or not, you show him parts of his personality that have been hidden for hundreds and hundreds of years, feelings he never thought he would be lucky enough to find again

and it terrifies him, of course, to consider what he lost in those feelings before, how he could lose you in a new, more painful way

but you reassure him

with every hold of your hand, every bright smile, every hug, every laugh at one of his silly lines, every kiss, every whisper in the dark when he lies with you until you fall asleep in his arms, you comfort the Doctor that no matter what happens, you will find your way back to each other

you, the Doctor and River Song are absolutely in a three-way marriage

River flirts with you more than the Doctor and he’ll sulk about it

“Honestly, what’s the point in me being here?! Should I drop you two off on an isolated moon to engage in your…shenanigans?! Ooh, ‘shenanigans’, now that’s a good word, I should use it more often!”

you and River both know him so well and share your frustrations over his occasional idiocies the girl’s that get it, y’know?

picture this: the Doctor being so excited to see River but she just runs past him and straight to you because the two of you have orchestrated sleepovers in the TARDIS and routinely fail to let the Doctor know ahead of time iconic

the two of you never make it official, but it is understood on both sides that you are in a relationship and nothing will break that bond

and you are the happiest couple in this universe, and every other

#doctor who #the doctor x reader #eleven x reader #eleventh doctor #11th doctor #doctor who x reader #x reader #imagine #imagines #fanfic #fanfiction #headcannon #headcannons

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juliettedunn · 1 year

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Witches Before Wizards and The Collector Parallels

Witches Before Wizards is crucial to both Luz’s character development as a whole and foreshadowing for the Collector.

In the episode, Luz actually states her core wish of being understood that she only fully realized in For the Future. Just before her rude awakening, she says “I always suspected there was a reason no one understood my wacky antics back home!”That is quite cool that you can see her wish so clearly on!

Luz doesn’t understand why she is an outcast. She is lonely, misunderstood, and desperate for some kind of meaning to her life.

She is easily taken in by the saccharine, technicolor world that Adegast presents to her. It is an easy one. Everything plays out in a perfectly predictable and safe manner. She is misunderstood because she is the Chosen One, and now she can be surrounded by friends who cherish her as she goes on to complete her quest.

Only, they aren’t true friends. There is no depth to anything that happens. She has no real relationship with them, they only speak predictable lines. Contrary to her core wish, they can’t actually understand her, because they aren’t real people, merely…puppets.

Literally, as when Adegast reveals himself, he commandeers all the “friends” she had made, their faces melting into grotesque puppetry.

Mocked and isolated so many times before, of course Luz doesn’t want to be subjected to more pain. The real world holds grief and uncertainty. But it is also the only way Luz can have true and meaningful bonds.

She has to allow that vulnerability, that uncertainty. She has to embrace a strange landscape, one quite often grotesque and horrifying, to reach the messy, deep bonds that come with it.

And she has. Despite being beaten down, Luz has found friends and family who understand her, and made a place for herself in the Boiling Isles. She has now realized her core wish of being understood, and with that self awareness, she is more powerful than ever.

She doesn’t need a perfectly saccharine universe to find happiness. She can embrace the real one, including all the grief that comes with it.

This is the same lesson that the Collector must learn. The Collector lives in a world of puppets too, one of his own making. Every day, he plays out that saccharine fantasy, scripted and stiff. King told him about Luz’s adventures, and the Collector was enamored.

But he doesn’t know how to have such a genuine experience or bond, so he flattened the experiences, simplified and purified them into the “messed up version” of Luz’s life now going on.

It is a sign of Luz’s maturity that she recognized how messed up it was. She no longer wants a world that’s cute and feel-good on the surface, but on the inside is empty and cold.

And that is what The Collector’s life is, right now. It’s hollow. King is the only real thing there, and he forces King to play out the scripted performance as well.

The Collector may think he is happy, but he isn’t. He can’t find real happiness with such a life. He is lost, lonely, and he doesn’t know how to fix it. He doesn’t know how to have a genuine bond, and so he desperately tries to make it work with his puppet show.

At the end of Witches Before Wizards, Luz rejects her puppet fantasy. I am sure the Collector will as well. Likely, with Luz’s help, as she gets through to him and uses her own experience with loneliness and isolation, that wish for a perfect world that understands you, to show him a path toward true meaning and connection.

#the owl house #toh #luz noceda #the owl house luz #the collector #enzo gabriel #julietteanalyzes

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kpopnstarwars · 6 months

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You're Not The Only One

A/N: my apologies for the millions of time skips, this was originally two parts but i merged it

Warnings: swearing, loneliness, self harm (with a taser and with blades), so much pain im sorry, sleep depriavtion to another level, more pain, this shit is so damn painful ok be warned,

Word count: <3500

Your eyes are drooping as you shade them against the sun. Above you, a ship so battered you're surprised it's still airborne is descending, and you reach for the cup of caf beside you, gulping down the last of its cold dregs before groaning and rubbing your eyes. You work and live alone, so no one's around to look after you, to make sure that you get some sleep, to see the burns on your forearms. As a result of your damned isolation, and the fact that their are rumours about you being the best and the fastest mechanic in the galaxy, you constantly have clients, and you constantly work on no sleep.

In fact, you can't remember the last time you had a full night's sleep.

Or half a night's sleep.

Or an hour of sleep.

Actually, excluding blinking, the last time in your recent memory that you closed your eyes was when you sneezed an hour ago because of the dust that flew off your bed as you stumbled past.

Smiling tiredly, you look up as the ship lands. You're not quite sure why your eyes can't focus on the Mandalorian's helmet as he walks down the ramp, but you run a hand through your hair and tug hard at the whispy strands to wake yourself up at least a tiny bit. Appraising the man's ship, you raise your eyebrows as he approaches, dropping your gaze to give him a once over. Somewhere in your half functioning brain, you realise that he's the itimidating type of attractive, and that if he wasn't paying you, he'd be the type you'd try to woo into bed, just for the fun of it.

But right now, even the thought of a Mandalorian in your bed doesn't break through the thick, clinging fog in your head.

'I assume you're here for repairs,' you say, forcing an echo of brightness into your voice. 'Well, I didn't come for a free blowjob,' he mutters, or maybe you imagine it. 'What?' You ask, feeling awake for once in the last seventy two hours. 'Yes,' he replies shortly, in a way that tells you, no, you had not misheard him. 'I'm here for repairs. No droids.' You huff a laugh. 'You see any droids, tin can? It's just me in this miserable hangar.' He grunts. 'Good.' You squint at him. 'Need a place to stay, Mando? I could use some extra credits.' He shrugs. 'How much?' 'Oh, just fifty credits or so,' you estimate.

He'll find that it's cheaper than any of the rates he'll find in town. For some reason, you want him to stay, either because your addled brain has taken on the challenge of wooing him into your bed, or just because his presence is filling up the room in a way that makes you grateful, because it feels like you haven't had any sentient in years. The Mandalorian tilts his head in a nod, and you smile, clapping your hands together.

'Alright then. I'll start up on your ship, and you can wander around or whatever until you want to turn in for the night.' 'Thank you,' he says. 'I'll be back by nightfall.'

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Pressing the black metal to your skin, you grit your teeth against the pain and ignore the way your muscles jump and spasm as the taser's white light flashes in your eyes. With a gasp, you drop it back down next to your refilled cup of caf. It's been a while since you took the taser out, but work has been busy recently, and you need to stay awake to get this Mandalorian's ship fixed. You're not afraid of the scars any more; it's more necessary for you to keep yourself conscious and working, and besides, the caf stopped being effective two hours ago.

A new dose of adrenaline from the pain the taser caused you streams through your system, and ignoring the smoking mark on your skin and the jittering in your fingers, you stand. The Mandalorian said he'd be back by nightfall, but the moon is high in the sky now. Something tells you that he's out hunting a bounty that gave him more trouble than he expected, so you decide to get back to work on his Razor Crest. When he landed it in your hangar, it was crumbling apart with startling speed - a panel had actually crashed to the ground when he was still twenty feet up in the air. Now, one side is already fixed up and gleaming, ridded of the awful carbon scoring slashing across the silver metal, and the other side is well on its way, the wires sorted neatly and all holes soldered up and patched.

To him, you're sure he'll see it as a miracle. To you, it's just the smell of your own burnt flesh each time you taser yourself.

You need this. You need the constant grind of work, you need your hands always full of the wiring of some ship, otherwise you'll go spiralling; the loneliness will bring you to your knees, the hollow rooms of your hangar will stare at you accusingly, your empty heart will torment you until you're screaming for it to stop. The pain from the taser hardly stings compared to the ache in your chest.

You're own heartbeat feels like a chant: alone, alone, alone, alone -

You gasp as you press the taser to your arm, the inside of your skull lighting up bright white as the energy courses through you. Blood fills your mouth from where you've bitten your tongue, and you wash it down along with the bitter taste of isolation with a sip of caf. Glancing over your shoulder as you brace yourself against the table, panting, you glimpse the silhouette of the Mandalorian as he approaches.

Shit. Did he see you taser yourself? Shame rockets through you, sharp like the edge of a knife, and you dig your knuckles into your eyes. Don't be ashamed, you tell yourself. You're just doing what he's paying you to do.

But other mechanics don't do this to themselves, do they?

No, of course they don't. Ironic, that you're alone in your loneliness. No one's there to share your solitude, because then it wouldn't be solitude, would it? No one's there to witness your pain, because then you wouldn't do such things to yourself. You'd be too embarassed, too conscious of another presence, because you don't know how to act around people who care for you any more - and the reason for that is that there is simply no one who does. Your work has become your life, the broken down ships your family, and even they leave you once you fix them. No one is even present long enough to watch your steady decline, to see the dark circles grown beneath your hollow eyes, because once you fix their ship in lightning speed, they're gone again, their bags of credits the only remnant of company.

'You're... you're fast,' a voice says behind you. You turn around with a forced smile. 'That I am.' 'It's barely been a day,' he says. 'Do you know what time it is?'

This time an edge of something like concern fills his voice. You're speechless. Maybe you're imagining it, because why would a Mandalorian, a man who won't even show you his face or give you his name, be worried about you? Stars, you're just the mechanic he hired, and forget that you're unnaturally fast, forget the damned scars littering your forearms, you're just a stranger, just a person in an orange jumpsuit smeared with oil who he could have met on the street.

'No,' you mumble. 'I don't know what time it is.'

He tilts his head, and you get the impression that he's studying you, that he's looking at you like no one has for a long time. You can't help but wonder if it's because he saw the light of your taser, and for a moment you entertain the thought that he might think you were torturing some slave you had in your cellar which you made do all your work for you. But that's ridiculous. If anyone's the slave, it's your body; the slave driver is your unrelentless mind, and you're trapped in the never ending cycle of fixing ships, drinking caf and tasering yourself until eventually, you'll drop dead where you stand. You haven't tried counting the scars on your arms - the old or the new ones - but you know that many taser bolts can't be healthy. And still, you carry on.

'Hey, you wanted a place to stay, right?' He nods. 'Yeah.' 'Right this way,' you say, gesturing inside. 'Welcome to my humbe abode, Mando.' 'You - you live here alone?' Your throat closes up. 'Yup.'

Mando looks at you again, and somehow that blasted helmet seems to convey something like empathy. It's then that it occurs to you that he's all alone too, surrounded by the silver walls of his ship and the silver slabs of his armour. Maybe he knows what it's like to feel that soul crushing loneliness... Or maybe he's just happy with his solitude, like you wish you could be. Maybe he's happy to be alone with his thoughts.

'In here,' you say, pointing into your bedroom. You'd changed the sheets, and although you don't have another bed for yourself, you doubt you'll be sleeping. 'Where are you sleeping?' He asks. 'In my room,' you lie. 'Mm,' he hums, casting his gaze around. Your room isn't specifically personalised to yourself, there are no heirlooms, no keepsakes; you've been alone what feels like your whole life, but under his scrutinous gaze, the dust on the bedside table could be your dearest possession. 'I'll go, now,' you say quickly. 'I want to work a little more on your ship.' 'A little more, or the whole night?' You freeze. 'Uh - we'll - we'll see.' You turn, pausing in the doorway, looking back at him. 'Sweet dreams, Mando.'

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The sun has been up for precisely an hour when he walks out into the hangar, looking identical to the way he looked the night before. Unruffled, cool, layered in that deadly silver armour. His gaze piercing right into you, spilling secrets you keep even from yourself, pins you down as much as it did yesterday, and you fiddle with the spanner in your hands.

'I finished up with your ship.' He cocks his head. 'And you didn't sleep.' You grow angry under his scrutiny. 'Anything wrong with that?' 'No, except for the fact I bet you haven't slept in three days.' You chuck your spanner into the toolbox. 'Whatever. I'm not some lab womp rat for you to inspect and dissect with your words, Mando.'

Striding past him, you head for the shelter of your caf maker, but he catches your wrist as you pass. Pain splinters through you as his fingers press into your most recent wounds, and you gasp, slapping his hands off you, backing away as he glances sharply towards you, head cocked at the sound of your harsh inhale. No, no, no, he can't see you like this, he can't find out about the scars on your forearms, he can't -

'What's this?'

Your world shatters. In his orange tipped gloves is your taser. Everything disintigrates then, everything you've built around yourself to hide your aching fatigue, your aching loneliness, dissolving because of two small words and a tiny gadget in a masked man's fingers. You want to collapse, to fall into the dust beneath your feet and plummet until even gravity grows tired of you. You want to smack him, to hit him, to say something, but all you do is stare. Stare and stare and stare, your eyes wide with panic.

Finally, your brain catches up, and you take a step back. 'You know what that is.' You spit. 'You know what it means, too. You know what I use it for, you know how I work so bloody fast, so don't fucking ask me what it is when you know full well!' You scream. 'Or maybe you like it, huh? You like the fact that my eyes are bloodshot and I can't stand up without a cup of caf and my fingers won't stop shaking and my head spins every time I fucking move - is that it? Do you - '

'No.'

You freeze. You look down at the cuffs of your jumpsuit around your wrists, and slowly, you pull them up to your elbows. He takes your hand in his, gently turning your arm this way and that as he looks at your scars. Half expecting him to stare at them, disgusted, in the same way that you do, but he lets go of you after no longer than half a minute, slowly opening his arms. Something like hope shoots through you, and your legs buckle as you collapse into his embrace, sobs tearing through your tired husk of a body.

You're not sure you can remember the last time someone held you. The feel of a pair of arms around you is so unfamiliar that all you can do is tremble, fingers fisting in the Mandalorian's cloak as your face instinctively finds itself tucked into his neck, your head fitting perfectly under his chin. Maybe it's ridiculous how much you're trembling, maybe the dig of his armour into your ribs should be uncomfortable, but you don't care because he's letting you lean all your weight against him, he's letting you sob onto his shoulder, Maker, he's letting you cling onto him because he's the only lifeline you have left. It feels as if you've been teetering on the edge for so long, and you only realised how close you were to falling when he pulled you to safety. When he pulled you into his arms.

Mando slips his forearm beneath your knees, smoothly lifting you off the ground as he carries you back into your room, sitting down on your bed with you still in his lap.

'I knew this was your room, you know,' he says, stroking your hair as you curl up on his lap, unable to speak. 'I knew as soon as I saw you how many hours you had deprived yourself of sleep, because I used to do the same to myself. I... I would strap viroblades under my armour, so that if I relaxed for even a moment, the feel of the points against my skin would wake me up again. I thought I was the only one who... who did that to themselves.' He sighs. 'I'm not much better now, but I - I've stopped hurting myself. It's... not healthy, you know?'

It hits you then. This Mandalorian, this man who holds you in his arms has been through what you're going through, and he's living proof of someone who got through it. Your head spins, your chest heaves, and all you can focus on are his words: I thought I was the only one.

'You're not the only one,' he murmurs into your hair. 'There are millions like you out in the galaxy. There always will be. Don't forget that.' You look up at him then, tears in your eyes. 'I - I won't.' 'Good,' he says, and you get the impression he's smiling as he tucks you under the bed covers. 'Will you - will you come back?' You ask, voice small as he turns to the door. He glances over at you. 'Sure.'

You hum, finally letting your eyes close and tugging the blankets tight around you. Mando's soft chuckle is the last thing you hear, the gentle brush of fingers on your cheek the last thing you feel before you fall into the sweet bliss of sleep.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

When you wake up, there are only three things that signal he ever dropped by. The first is that the batteries have been taken out of the alarm clock by your bedside, the second is that the remains of the taser - which has been crushed under the heel of someone's boot - lie in the corner of the hangar, discreet enough for only you to notice them, and the third is a note.

It's written in black on a crinkled piece of paper, the letters scrawling yet easily legible, extending across the expanse of yellowed white like the stretching out of a bird's wings.

You're not the only one.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

You don't ever remember being so happy to see a ship. But now, as a familiar ship, glinting silver in the sunlight, touches down in your hangar, your face aches with how wide your smile stretches. The Razor Crest has been a regular appearance in the last few months, and each time it touches down, the burden you carry with you seems to disappear. Dropping the spanner in your hand, you race out into the sun as the cargo ramp lowers, not breaking your stride as you launch yourself at him, your bell like laughter ringing in harmony with his. He catches you in his arms, lifting your feet off the floor as he holds you tight to him. Squeezing your eyes shut, you relax into his grip, breathing in his scent.

'How are you?' Din asks. You smile. 'Good. Better now that you're here.'

Still looking at you, the T-shape of his visor boring into you, he reaches down and intertwines your fingers with his, lifting up your arm and pushing back your sleeve. The happiness sours on your tongue, and you look away, shame dyeing your cheeks red. Your other hand fists by your side, and you can't bear to meet his gaze as he stares down at the fresh wounds on your skin; less frequent than before, only two or three, but still, they aren't gone.

'Why did you have to look?' You whisper, your voice breaking as you pull out of his grasp. 'I want to look after you,' he answers simply. 'I want you to look after yourself.' 'Why does it matter to you, Din?' You demand. 'Why do you want that?' He pauses. 'You know why.'

You do. You heard him the first time you met - he was the first person who found out about the taser, he told you about how he kept himself awake, and somehow you still feel bitter that he had to check. Swiping tears out of your eyes, you turn away from him, waiting for him to touch your shoulder, do anything, but he just stands behind you, his presence large and expectant behind you. He's waiting for you to turn to him, because he knows you inevitably will, and for a moment, it hurts you deep inside that he knows you so intimately, knows every facet of your soul, and you spin around.

'Do you not trust me, Din?' You spit. 'Will you check my wrists every time you land your damned ship in this hangar? Because if so, get out, and don't come back.'

You stare up at him, and he towers at you, stoic and impossibly still. You feel terribly small, your words feel stupid and useless, bouncing off his beskar and lodging right back into you. The sunlight breaks through the clouds above and begins to reflect off his armour and into your eyes, and you tell yourself it's that that is making your eyes begin to water. You despise the way he's just standing there, lit by a column of golden light, as you crumble before him, the distance between you too far to cross.

'I trust you with my life,' he says softly. 'I just don't trust you with your own.'

And then he holds out his arms again, and it's like the first time. You're falling, and he's catching you, holding you tight and stroking your hair, grounding you and holding you down, keeping you from floating away in a sky of pain and sleepless nights. Whispering reassurance in your ear, he rocks you, his touch a sweet, steadying comfort.

'You're okay,' he whispers. 'It's okay, I'm proud of you, cyar'ika. I know it's hard to just stop, and you did so good, alright?' Gently, he prises you off him, holding you at arms' length and making sure you look at him. 'You know I can't destroy every single torch and whatever tools you use to solder ships,' he murmurs. 'So I want you to comm me every time you feel the urge to use them on yourself, and maybe we can keep you awake by talking together, okay?' You nod. 'O - okay.' He wipes your tears away with the back of his hand. 'I care about you a lot, sweetheart. I - I don't like to see you hurt.'

You stare up at him, his words washing over you, slowly circling in your thoughts. Sweetheart. He called you sweetheart. Your heart swells, and you curl your arms around him again, resting your head on his chest and threading your fingers through his.

'I - I care about you too, Din.'

And as he leans down, gently touching his forehead to yours, you know that under his helmet, his smile mirrors yours.

#star wars #mando #the mandalorian #din djarin #din x reader #din djarin x reader #mando x reader

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jackdraw-spwrite · 1 year

Text

The Horologist's Paradox

Sometimes, most times, things are good. Daniel is happy living in Long Now, and Clockwork is happy to have him.

Others…

Time alone can't heal all wounds. Even if Clockwork wishes otherwise.

Characters: Clockwork, Danny Fenton

Other Information: There's some implied but ambiguous Bad Things in the past but nothing explicit, Bring Your Own Tragic Past style. This is basically a comfort/fluff fic with some angst and an inhuman Clockwork with some soft, but very unsettling thoughts.

Words: 4394

You can read it on AO3 or below the readmore:

Long Now's workshop was a quiet place. With the door shut, the outside world faded away. The only sounds remaining were those of a few clocks lining a wall, and those Clockwork himself made. It needed to be isolated. If it were not, the movement of the gargantuan mechanisms of Long Now would disturb the delicate work Clockwork did within.

At the moment, that delicate work was mounting bearings in the back plate of a new clock movement. Clockwork floated at a work table in his smallest form. He had the cleverest fingers and steadiest hands like this, and so it was the form he preferred for finely detailed work.

To his right lay a sprawling array of gear wheels, ratchet arms, springs, hammers, racks, and other shining pieces. To his left was the blank front plate. The back plate sat before him dotted with a constellation of holes, drilled and pressed to fit the design of his latest clock movement.

And just to its side was a small collection of rubies, carefully cut to size and purpose. Clockwork held another with a child-sized pair of tweezers. In the steady light of the workshop, it shone like a miniscule grape.

Delicately, Clockwork manipulated the bearing so it rested face up in an empty hole. With a tiny tap, it settled the rest of the way into the hole. With a trip to the jewel press, it was stuck firmly and precisely in place, and with another eight bearings the back plate was complete.

It was a job well done. He leaned back to enjoy the way the ruby bearings flared a brilliant red in the light of his work lamp.

It soothed a certain restless dissatisfaction in him to work on projects like this, with such clear and unambiguous solutions despite their intricacy.

The workshop was a place Clockwork retreated to when his fingers and core itched to fix, but his responsibilities demanded he leave things broken. What was best for the integrity of the timestream was not always best for those who lived within it, and there were times that the difference rankled.

Thus, the workshop.

It was full of countless helpful things for creating and fixing clockwork of all sizes; jewelry saws and polishing grit and oil. It had metal of many kinds, and gems for bearings. There was a forge. There were tweezers, and engravers, and more exotic metalworking tools more familiar to inhabitants of the ghost zone than humans. It was a large collection.

It was a large workshop. He could spend days in it at a time. On a few occasions, he had.

But for now, it was a good stopping place for the evening. The timestream was not his only responsibility, and another would soon need his attention.

He was just fixing his cloak in place when Daniel knocked at the door. His hair was stuck in awkward tufts. He'd spent too long thinking with his fingers woven through it again.

"Hungry?" Clockwork asked, and Daniel nodded.

The short trip down to the kitchen was just long enough to ask Daniel about his day.

"My math homework is impossible, I swear. There's this variable that I'm supposed to solve for and there's literally no solution. I'd just put that down but she clearly said there was a solution but I might not find it."

Clockwork hummed as they entered the kitchen, well aware that Daniel's next lesson would be on complex numbers. "It seems she may be right, then."

"I don't want her to be right, I want to be right." Daniel slouched against one of the pantry doors and let his head thump against it. "Why can't I be right?"

"You know," Clockwork said, setting the soup to warm on the stove, "Sometimes I find it illuminating to look ahead."

"Yeah, well I don't have time powers."

"Why would you need them?"

Behind him, Daniel's aura wrinkled in confusion.

Clockwork grinned. Daniel really did miss charmingly obvious solutions sometimes.

It took a few more moments for Daniel to puzzle out what Clockwork meant, during which Clockwork pulled the frying pan from its hook and set that to heat as well.

And enjoyed Daniel's thinking frown. His eyebrows made it a very good one.

Alas, it came to an end. With a muttered "oh," Daniel perked up.

"After dinner," Clockwork said before Daniel could leave to read the next section of his textbook.

Daniel made a second little "oh" noise at the reminder of why they were in the kitchen, and trotted to Clockwork's elbow to peer around him at the stovetop. Clockwork stole the opportunity to ruffle his hair despite the dismayed groan he received in return.

He gave the soup a stir and returned his attention to the frying pan. They wouldn't be having anything extravagant tonight, just something warm and familiar. Clockwork had sneaked in a little extra ectoplasm to the soup, hidden under the tomatoes' more familiar acidity. Just right for a young ghost.

"Do you mind getting out some bread and cheese?" Clockwork asked before explaining, "For the grilled cheese."

Danny stepped away briefly, and there was the sound of a cupboard being opened and many loaves of bread being shifted around.

Clockwork flicked butter into the frying pan and watched it melt.

One of the benefits of Clockwork's baking hobby was that they had many varieties of bread to choose from. One of the benefits of his time powers was that he could suspend time in most of his cupboards until they were opened.

The loaf Daniel set on the counter was a pillowy brioche, still warm to the touch from the oven it had left both a week and minutes earlier. The cheese followed, and then a cutting board and bread knife.

"Thank you," Clockwork said.

Daniel nodded, already busy slicing the loaf into pieces before grabbing the butter and claiming the heels as a food preparation tax. He stuffed one of them into his mouth, chewing blissfully.

Clockwork huffed a laugh at the sight even as his core thrummed with pleasure. Even after years, It was still so good to see Daniel take such clear enjoyment from something he'd made.

The bread sizzled in the frying pan. Clockwork nudged it to keep it from crisping–Daniel preferred the cheese melted but the bread soft, so it would stay in the pan just long enough to warm through and to melt the cheese.

Behind him, Daniel set the table.

"Thank you," said Clockwork again.

Daniel was silenced by a mouthful of the second heel but his aura brightened, flooding briefly with something that danced between starlight and specks of sunlight reflected from snow.

Minutes later, soup steamed in bowls on the little kitchen table. A small collection of sandwiches sat at its center.

Clockwork watched Daniel tear into the meal with all the fervor of the growing boy he hadn't been since the portal. He spooned his own soup at a more sedate pace, watching. The meal was mostly for Daniel’s benefit; Clockwork needed little food. But he liked to keep Daniel company, and to watch.

And to think.

Another sandwich vanished, first off the stack and then into Daniel.

Clockwork watched it go.

There was a curious stubbornness to the way Daniel chewed. It wasn't as though he were mannerless. But Daniel was solid in a way that tended to set teeth on edge and raise hackles, and that solidity included his teeth. When he chewed, it was with a rigid jaw and human teeth, and the result was something which was both and neither crushing his food as humans did and absorbing the energy of it as a ghost.

It was an odd conflict.

It came with the territory of being half-human, Clockwork knew.

Daniel was present in a way other ghosts were not; his bones were many and solid, and they rarely bent or vanished. The solid shapes beneath his skin and sinew, the way his limbs flexed only at joints: these were strange to see in the ghost zone. Most ghosts would bend bones for emphasis, or even go without entirely and enjoy a fluid existence. For ghosts, rigidity was a thing of the previous world, and more particularly one thing every member of the Dead instinctively knew: the hardening shell of rigor mortis.

To them, half humans evoked a corpse, puppeteered.

Few appreciated such a visceral reminder of desecrated graves. Fewer still found it anything but off-putting.

But Clockwork had always been good at seeing as others did not. Daniel's bones were solid, yes. Their presence was as sure and steady as the stones of Long Now. They were as solid as its gears, and there lay the heart of Clockwork's wonder. His bones were light and sculpted with slight curves, and yet offered him strength. His joints were simple machines.

It was a beautiful thing.

Clockwork never tired of seeing the flex of tendons over bone, nor of seeing Daniel's bones and muscle dance just under the surface of his skin.

And yet.

When he reached over the table, Daniel's sleeve rode up just enough for the white of a scar to show, long and straight and stubborn.

There were others.

They were more hidden. They were not more healed, despite Clockwork's efforts.

Humans required rest and care and time to mend injuries of any significance. Ghosts would not scar from anything they did not consider important. But they needed more than time and rest to mend physical scars of great significance.

And Daniel was neither and both at once. He needed time. He did not. Scars would fade, but only if their significance did, too.

And these scars…

Hours from now, Daniel would come downstairs, eyes heavy from unmet sleep and burning from tears he refused to shed. Clockwork would turn from his screens, and draw him close, and hold him until Daniel's fingers stopped digging like claws into his sides. Until the gasps for air Daniel didn't quite need but never stopped ceased to hiss between his teeth. Until memories too old to be so sharp lost their jagged edges and Daniel's aura soothed.

But that was hours away.

For now, Daniel was enjoying the meal. He was animated, gesturing to emphasize his point as he told Clockwork about his homework and it was true that Clockwork would never tire of the motion of tension and muscles over Daniel's bones.

But there was something sharp and rasping in that motion. Something raw. Something grating that spoke of pain and neglect and deterioration.

Oil, suggested the part of Clockwork that knew days at a time in his workshop, examining tiny cogs and filing imperfections.

He flicked the thought away. It was not oil that Daniel needed.

Not was it solely time.

Daniel's old worries about inadequacy still bit at him sometimes. That was all. The best thing Clockwork could do for that was provide warmth and attention, and make sure Daniel had plenty of opportunities to prove himself in his own eyes. And, perhaps, to change the subject.

"Do you have anything else you need to work on before tomorrow?"

"Just some reading." Daniel dug one end of a sandwich into his soup, intent on soaking as much tomato flavor as possible into the bread. It was a familiar motion by now, and an endearing habit. Sometimes Clockwork joked that Daniel ate most of his soups via sandwich.

"What's it about?"

He nibbled on his own much crunchier sandwich as Daniel replied, and enjoyed the warmth of a meal shared.

---

The library of Long Now was a single, towering room with walls of books that spiraled almost all the way to the top. There were no ladders, no gantries. There was no need: Clockwork's lair shaped itself to suit him, and Clockwork could fly. Even the shelves tucked just beneath the mechanisms crowding the ceiling were in easy reach for him.

After the dishes had been put away and Daniel had vanished back upstairs to wage another battle on the math problem, Clockwork floated through the floor entrance. He selected a book from a pile on the coffee table and settled onto the couch to read.

The novel was from France, but from a timeline where the Umayyad conquest of Hispania had reached farther north. The resulting loan words and synthesized folklore lent the setting a certain subtle novelty. Clockwork wasn't well-acquainted with the resulting cultures; the timelines he tended had diverged from one another only a century or so before. In them, the conquest had reached its limit at the Pyrenees Mountains.

There were nevertheless recognizable threads to the story; The hero's journey was far older than the conquest, after all. Comparing tropes in it to those of his own timelines was a pleasant way to unwind, and Clockwork gladly did so.

The mentions of unfamiliar dishes were tantalizing, too; unusual ways of spicing meats so far north, a far older proliferation of coffee. Clockwork made a mental note to request a cookbook or two from the alternate version of himself who had lent him the book.

Some time later, there was a thump from the staircase outside the door. Daniel bounced in, two parts triumphant and one part vexed.

"What kind of a number is i," he complained.

"An imaginary one," said Clockwork, and turned a page.

Danny huffed, then threw himself down on the couch hard enough that the cushions beneath him huffed too. "A dumb one," he said to himself, quietly enough that Clockwork wasn't meant to hear.

Clockwork glanced at the page number he was on before setting the book aside.

"You did solve it," he pointed out.

Daniel pulled a face. "Yeah, after way too long. Who even assigns homework on a topic they haven't taught yet?!?" With another aggravated noise he flung his head back and scowled at the ceiling.

Clockwork felt a response bubble up from his throat, unfolded the future to find a better one, and–

"Your teacher does," said Clockwork, smoothly. Sometimes the best responses were the natural ones, even if they were mouthy. Daniel knew him well enough to pick up on it when he was cheating his way through a conversation.

Daniel shot him a glare then sighed, scrubbing his face. "Sorry, I'm just. Ugh. That was almost an hour. I have other things to do."

Daniel did; his schedule was far freer here than it had been in the human world but he still had responsibilities.

And priorities. He was a ghost, even if half-human. Among them…

"I will be down here for some time," offered Clockwork, "reading."

A few minutes later, Daniel reappeared with his own book. He settled in next to Clockwork, leaning a little against his shoulder. Clockwork hummed and let his tail coil loosely around Daniel's ankle.

The story progressed. The heroes met strangers on the road and befriended them, got lost in towns, made cunning use of hospitality rules and grew closer and closer to the false Lord who had wronged them all.

He'd just reached the point where one of the heroes betrayed the rest when Daniel closed his book and set it to the side.

Clockwork looked up.

Daniel's lean had become more pronounced, and now his elbow was digging into Clockwork's side. Clockwork shifted so it slipped from between them, earning a sleepy mutter from Daniel.

"Here," said Clockwork after setting his own book to the side. "Lean against me."

"Already was," mumbled Daniel, but slumped until his head rested in the folds of Clockwork's cloak. The weight of it pressed firmly into Clockwork's shoulder, and Clockwork hummed, enjoying the sensation. Like this he could better appreciate Daniel's skull. It was unyielding, full of tiny bumps few ever cared to form when a smooth surface worked just as well.

Clockwork let his hum drift on as a low and soothing lullaby, layering over the sound of Daniel's heartbeat and the rhythm of the clocks in his tower.

In a way, Daniel was one of them.

Humans had a group of cells in their hearts which kept their time, just as a balance spring did for a mechanical watch. It was far less precise for timekeeping but that could be forgiven; its primary use was to other ends.

Daniel's heart beat strangely when he was in this form, fluttering like an insect's wing around his core. It was thin, diaphanous almost and yet, yet, it never quite vanished. And just as he was unaware of the individual bones and muscles animating his greater movements, he was unaware of the churn of his heart, of the undulations of his esophagus and gut.

But they were there, was the incredible thing. They were there without any conscious effort on Daniel's part. Even now that he was half asleep they persisted in their solidity and in their motions, however haphazard their timing.

A ghost with a working heart, marveled Clockwork. A living child who would never grow.

Absently, Clockwork brought his hand up to stroke over the curve of Daniel's skull. Softly, rhythmically, he traced out the ridge cradling Daniel's ear and trailing back to feel the ridge of his inion.

Had Clockwork not been himself, the lumps may have seemed haphazard. But he knew what they were: a wonderfully precise reconstruction of human anatomy that he couldn't help but appreciate the artistry of it.

With a sigh, Daniel's slump became more of a sprawl. The arm Clockwork had slipped from between them flopped onto his lap, elbow opened to a less intrusive angle.

Clockwork turned his attention to it.

The sleeve of Daniel's shirt was bunched, baring his forearm and his hand and wrist, and there was the scar Clockwork had seen earlier. There, too, was why Clockwork had shifted.

The machinery of the human forelimb was delicate, beautiful. It was one of the most intricate structures Daniel maintained.

It was astonishing.

Softly so as not to disturb Daniel, Clockwork took it in his hand and watched as the hand flopped slightly in response to the motion. It was strangely stiff. Many ghosts achieved the flexibility of a wrist by foregoing any rigid structure at all. Leaving out detail was just easier when you didn't require it for strength. Clockwork himself only maintained a solid wrist for stabilization. The precise control required to manipulate the gear wheels of a wristwatch was great, and bearings were more challenging than that.

But Daniel. Daniel.

Clockwork squeezed Daniel's forearm gently and watched the fingers curl.

Pulleys. Daniel had pulleys.

Daniel, and the odd stiffness of his wrist. Daniel, and the lovely hints of structure in his hands.

Daniel's wrist was made of bones. Eight bones, all precisely aligned and shaped to slide against one another for incredible flexibility, considering their presence. And that wasn't all. His hands each held another nineteen, and there was the pulley system animating Daniel's fingers from a collection of muscles in his forearm, and ties keeping it in place. There was a crisscrossing of muscle between each and every metacarpal that would lend a human strength.

Clockwork stroked the lines of Daniel's radius and ulna. They way their forms curved, the way they turned around each other to provide another degree of flexibiliy–

"Cl'wk?" Daniel slurred.

"Yes, Daniel?"

"W'ry'doin?"

What are you doing?

Clockwork leaned to look Daniel in the eye. He'd slid down almost completely into Clockwork's lap by now and seemed about as far in his journey to the land of sleep. One eye was just barely open, and the other was squished shut by his own weight.

Clockwork hummed. "I thought it might feel nice. You feel tense."

Daniel made a vague noise that could have been agreement or could have been calling Clockwork weird, but he never seemed particularly upset if Clockwork continued.

In fact…

Well. Clockwork did want Daniel to rest, and rest well.

He allowed a touch of his own contented energy to seep from his fingertips as he continued to massage Daniel's forearm. It was little surprise when Daniel heaved one last sigh before drifting off completely, aura falling as lax as the rest of him.

It was not the only unwinding. The nightmare which had stood so starkly in the hours ahead began to crumble.

Long after Daniel's breaths smoothed and drew themselves long like ribbons, long after Clockwork's gentle massage fell still, Clockwork stayed where he was, fingers straying to linger over the curve of Daniel's jaw and the hinge joint where it met his skull.

Daniel.

He was so wonderfully mechanical.

Sometimes, Clockwork thought of it like this: he would pick Daniel up as he had so many times before and carry him upstairs. But he would not stop at the door to Daniel's room.

The light of his workshop would already be on, and its tables cleared. Spotless. Ready. It was a large workshop with space for many projects.

But it held only enough space for one masterwork.

Sometimes, Clockwork thought of it like this: he would take Daniel and rest him on a table, with cloth to guard his skin and a pillow to guard his head. And then he would find the screws and clasps that held Daniel closed and ease him open with delicate care.

Gently, carefully.

He would set the pieces of Daniel's case aside somewhere safe and soft, and then he would disassemble the movement of his heart.

Daniel's gears–they wouldn't be plain brass as Clockwork's were. They would be feathered with the ice of his core. And the alloy they were made of would need to be adapted for the colder environment–

Clockwork caught himself.

Daniel was a ghost with a heart.

It clearly hurt him sometimes.

It was in the twist of his mouth, the tension in his fingers and strung across his shoulders. It was as though a gear in his heart would slip from its alignment, and the awful tension would warp the surrounding pieces and make them grind against one another in a way that could only hurt.

In his lap, Daniel breathed softly. Clockwork folded his arm over his chest, where it wouldn't flop haphazardly.

Sometimes, Clockwork thought of it like this:

He would take the movement of Daniel's heart (and oh, what a beautiful work it would be) and he would find the bearing that wasn't quite right. Or he would find the spacing that was wrong, or any of a thousand other reasons for Daniel's hurt.

And he would fix it.

He would carve Daniel a new bearing from a gemstone as blue as his ice, take a hammer and straighten all the gear wheels which had been hurt by the misalignment. He would file off the burrs that caught on Daniel's core and scraped him raw and grieving all over again, and polish each and every tooth until they would glide effortlessly against one another.

And then he would reassemble it. Daniel's mechanisms would run as smoothly as any of Clockwork's own. He would make sure of it. And then, he would do the same for every other part of Daniel. He would examine each and every gear wheel for the cracks which surely hid somewhere, rendering critical parts treacherously weak. He would take the hurt gears and recast them so they were like new. He would run each and every wire through his fingers to check them for fraying and rethread them through Daniel's incredible machinery and work and work until all the gears were polished and straight and shining and all his springs were tensioned. Until each and every bearing shone and Clockwork was sure that no wires would rub or snap, that no burrs would catch and no gears would jump or bump and jam.

And then, then.

He tucked Daniel to his chest, careful not to disturb him as he rose from the couch.

Daniel's identity was still tied so closely to his appearance. But some of his scars pained him. Clockwork would take a needle and thread and patch them. Not so they had never existed, no. Daniel valued his own history nearly as much as Clockwork did. But the scars could be, would be reinforced so they were stronger, less painful. They could be embroidered so they weren't just reminders of an ugly past but also reminders that Daniel was loved, and cared for, and–

Clockwork looked down at Daniel. His pale lashes blended with his skin, barely visible under the mess of hair. He frowned a little in his sleep as Clockwork left the library.

Sometimes, Clockwork thought of it like this: there was a child who had been through too much, and who trusted him. There was a bedroom, and a kitchen, and attention and love.

And in the end, there were no frost-feathered gears in Daniel's chest. Only a core. Only a heart and lungs and other human things, or near enough.

Clockwork adjusted his grip so Daniel's head fell more comfortably against his chest. He'd centered his existence around puzzles that took time and dedication to solve. He had both in spades. He could give both to Daniel.

He had.

He would.

Clockwork yearned for an easy solution to Daniel's hurts so much it hurt, sometimes. A solution like clock repair, like maintaining the vast network of machines which threaded their way through his lair. He would not undo Daniel’s past. But surely, surely he could find the problem and fix it and when Daniel was back together he wouldn’t hurt quite so much anymore.

But, he thought as he drifted up the staircase to Daniel's room, of course Daniel would be as wonderfully mechanical as a timepiece but as flowing as a timeline.

His little paradox.

He pushed through Daniel's bedroom door with telekinesis, and tucked him into bed. If he were still awake Daniel would likely protest about being too old for such things, but he was asleep. Clockwork was allowed to be as doting as he pleased.

He pulled away, then cocked his head. Daniel's nightmare still wavered in the hours ahead, reduced but not vanished from possibility. He nudged the blanket down into a less restricting position, and the nightmare dissolved.

With one last touch to tuck a stray hair away, Clockwork murmured, "Sleep well, Daniel."

And the bedroom door closed with a click.

#danny phantom #danny fenton dp #clockwork dp #jackdraw-spwrite #jackdaw-spwrite

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