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everythingacotarbxm1012 · 2 months

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They're Mates - with Y/N

Summary - Feyre meets Rhys's Inner Circle and witnesses the strength of the mating bond.

Warnings - abusive family mentioned.

Other Notes - 1k words; Please note that most of these lines/plot points are inspired or directly quoted from ACOMAF; I originally posted this where Reader was given the name 'Vee' but am putting this one out for anyone who might prefer y/n.

Part Two

✨💫

Feyre looked up to see the same two males from earlier standing in the doorway, grinning, and a new presence. A beautiful female with wings like the others. She wore a deep blue gown that reached the floor��–her hair resting over both her shoulders. The two males wore black leather with a sword strapped against their backs. Feyre noted the power each of them seemed to hold.

The male who was a bit large than the other, spoke up with a light chuckle. “We don’t bite. Unless you ask us to Feyre.”

The female shot him a pointed look. “Last time I checked, nobody wanted to take you up on that offer, Cassian.” The male who stood between the female and Cassian let out a light, short, laugh before whispering something into the female’s ear making her eyes twinkle subtly. Feyre watched as Cassian gave his own pointed look.

“No secrets in front of our guest, Az,” Cassian said with a grin.

The light danced across their faces allowing Feyre to observe their physical features for a moment. Similar to Rhysand, all three were dark-haired. Both males had tanned skin and hazel eyes. Feyre couldn’t quite tell the eye color of the female standing next to Az, but she gave off an air of beauty and power.

Cassian grinned again, looking Rhys and Feyre up and down. “You made poor Feyre dress up, brother,” he said before winking in her direction. His features were rough like someone had molded him, from the earth.

The second male was more classically beautiful, though hard to read. He was certainly the one who would be a surprise in the dark, the hidden knife. Feyre noticed the light sparkle in his eyes anytime he looked at the female to his left. It piqued a curiosity in Feyre.

Rhys said, “Azriel––my spymaster,” indicating the one in the middle. He then indicated the female. “Y/N. An emissary for the Night Court.” A name, Feyre later learned, Az had adopted for the emissary after she declared she did not want the name her abusive family had given her.

She immediately offered her hand with a warm smile. “Welcome, Feyre.” She gently squeezed Feyre’s before she quickly let go and Feyre does her best to not seem eager as she stepped back to stand next to the High Lord of the night Court, again.

“You’re brothers?” Feyre asked. The two males before her looked similar. The kind of similar where people who come from the same place do, not familial similar.

“All bastards are brothers in some sense,” Rhys responded, sticking his hands in his pockets.

Before Feyre could ask Cassian said, “And I command Rhys’s armies.”

Feyre nodded, shifting on her feet slightly before her eyes glanced to see Azriel taking another glance in the emissary’s direction. She looked right back with a smile that showed a clear fondness for the spymaster. The moment went as quickly as it came when Az turned his gaze to Feyre. “Cassian also excels at pissing everyone off. Especially amongst our friends. So, as a friend of Rhysand, good luck.”

Feyre was giving more attention to not being recognized as the girl Under the Mountain. She wondered, for just a moment if they knew––maybe they didn’t. That was quickly answered when Cassian nudged past the Night Court’s spymaster requiring Az to flare his wings to keep himself balanced. Feyre watched Y/N’s hand fall to Azriel’s lower back to assist. Feyre noticed the fleeting moment of eye contact between the spymaster and the emissary, but it quickly became a second thought as Cassian asked his question about how Feyre had made the bone ladder in the Middengard Wyrm’s lair, when as he put it, “you looked like your own bones could snap at any moment.”

Y/N shot Cassian another pointed gaze, but it turned into a grin after Feyre made a sarcastic comment of her own. The general laughed and Azriel’s eyebrow lifted with approval as the shadows swirled around him, tighter. Feyre’s need to understand the gift only furthered when the shadows swirled up and around Y/N’s wrist playfully, before weaving around the ends of her hair.

Her curiosity once again was pushed to the side when Feyre heard, thankfully, a familiar voice…Mor. “I hope Cassian’s howling means Feyre told him to shut his fat mouth.”

Y/N quickly whispered something into Az’s ear, his shadows lightened slightly from around him. Feyre’s curiosity about the nature of their relationship increasing.

“I don’t know why I forget you two are related,” Cassian told Mor, while glancing over at Rhys for just a moment. “You two and your clothing.” The High Lord rolled his eyes, but Feyre had her own focus on the emissary and the spymaster who were both standing in silence, stealing glances at each other.

“I wanted to impress Feyre. You could have tried to make an effort to comb your hair,” Mor responded.

Cassian braced his feet a little farther apart on the floor in a fighting stance Feyre recognized, perhaps too well. “Unlike some people, I have better things to do with my time than sit in front of the mirror for hours,” the general bit back.

“Yes,” Mor the said, tossing her hair over her shoulder, “since swaggering around––”

“We have company,” Azriel said in a soft warning, spreading his wings as he tried to herd everyone.

“Relax, Az,” Mor said as she dodged the spymaster’s outstretched wing. “We won’t fight. We promised Rhys.”

Feyre barely noticed Az stop in his tracks, letting out the smallest of huff and his shadows seem to become thicker. She then watched as Y/N took one of Az’s hands in her own, gently pressing her lips to the back of it. His shadows lightened around him. Apparently the question about their relationship reached Feyre’s face because Rhys leaned down slightly to say, “They’re mates. Azriel and Y/N. They’ve known each other a little over 500 years and been mates just under 500.”

Feyre considered that fact, thinking there was something delicately beautiful about nearly 500 years of commitment between the two. Now she just had a few thousand more questions about the court’s spymaster and emissary. Question she decided were for another time as Mor indicated the empty seat beside her. Feyre knew the image of Az whispering into his mate’s ear and the twinkle in her eye would be etched into the back of her mind forever.

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #acotar fanfiction #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #a court of mist and fury #acomaf #rhysand #feyre archeron #rhysand x feyre #cassian #morrigan #mor #3rd person pov

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digital-domain · 2 months

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Spring Cleaning

Alastor x Reader // word count 3.2k

In which Alastor goes through your closet, and offers a tasteful replacement for the unsavory things he’s destroyed

Tags/warnings: yandere, invasion of privacy, Alastor’s outfit-changing magic fuckery, mention of lingerie, slight suggestiveness

A/N: I’d like to thank Goodwill for providing the clothing item that inspired this fic

There’s someone in your room, and you know exactly who it is, because - well, it’s not like it’s a rare occurrence. It doesn’t happen every time, but often enough that you’ve gotten used to seeing Alastor when you open the door, pacing along your bedroom floor, casually perusing your belongings, or sitting at your desk chair like he’s been waiting for you all day. It’s been happening for so long, now, that you don’t remember exactly when it started. And you certainly don’t know why. You tried asking, once or twice, but you learned quickly that he has a shocking ability to dance around questions that he doesn’t want to answer. All you really know is that he’s taken an interest in you, and that it’s not likely to disappear anytime soon.

Some specific visits do stick out in your memory. On one particularly horrendous occasion, he’d stood directly beside the door when you’d swung it open, hiding himself from view, only for his presence to be revealed when you’d turned to shut it behind you. His head had been tilted to a truly bizarre angle, but he’d straightened himself out while you were still reeling from the shock.

No need to be frightened, my dear. Just a bit of fun…

You got the feeling that the look on your face was exactly the entertainment he was looking for.

Today isn’t like that, thankfully. It’s usually not. You get the impression that he doesn’t want to scare you away (as if you could run away, even if you wanted to), and that that particular visit was a rare sort of indulgence. Your door is already cracked open, and you hear him long before you see him. He’s humming something, but like most of the songs he treasures, it’s far too old for you to recognize.

Not as if he accepts that as an excuse. You’ve started learning some of the titles, just to appease him. And the lyrics. And reading the books that he’s given you, and listening to his odd bits of old-fashioned advice, and accepting his various other gifts. The whiskey was nice, although of course he insisted upon drinking with you, and cut you off at one glass. Apparently, it would have been improper to indulge any further in mixed company. The coffee was better - at least he let you drink that by yourself.

When you swing the door open, he’s half-turned away from you, and doesn’t so much as look in your direction. But what you can see of his broadening smile makes it clear that he’s heard you enter. “Hello, my dear,” he murmurs. “I was wondering when you’d arrive.”

This is another thing you’ve gotten used to: being made to feel like you’re the guest, in your own bedroom. It drives you insane, but of course, you’ve never addressed it. And you’ve certainly never tried to drive him out before he was ready to leave. This little arrangement you have - truly, you’re not sure what to call it - can be unpleasant, at times, but it’s not unbearable. He never comes late at night, and never shows up when you have company (although how he always seems to know whether you have company, you’re not sure). He doesn’t seem to want anything more than your attention.

It’s acceptable. Tolerable. And if you ever push back, you’re not sure what will happen, so you think it’s better to just leave things as they are. To let him come and go through your life as he pleases.

You’re coming closer than ever to saying something now, though, because this time he’s not just sitting at your desk, or standing idly somewhere in your room. He’s got your closet door open - and he’s rifling through the contents. Clearly, he’s been doing this for some time, because a large portion of your clothes are already lying in a heap on the floor behind him. As you watch, he tears another shirt off its hanger. A black camisole that you’d bought because it reminded you of something you’d worn often in life. A “going out top,” as your old friends had called it. He looks down with something like disgust, and drops it over his shoulder, where it flutters to the top of the pile.

“ Alastor…” You try to keep your tone even. Merely curious, instead of indignant. “What are you doing?” A bit of your anger slips through. It would be stupid to even hope that he didn’t notice.

“No need to be so hostile.” He slips another shirt from your closet and holds it up with both hands. “I’m doing you a favor.” He tugs on the sloped neckline of the delicate blouse in his hands, and a rip appears down the middle. “My mistake, dear.”

Arguing, you think, would be a bad idea. But you really do need him to stop. “I liked that one.”

“ Hmm…well! I didn’t. I’m afraid it was a bit modern for my tastes.” He shakes his head, and turns around, dropping the shirt into the mess of other garments on the floor. He’s made it through a good chunk of your wardrobe - several pairs of pants and jeans, as well as a few accessories you’d grown fond of, are visible within the heap. “I mean no offense, of course. I only wish to help.”

You certainly do take offense, but there’s no point in addressing that directly. “They’re my clothes,” you say instead, very aware that you sound like an idiot.

“Not anymore.” With a flourish of his hand, the pile disappears, leaving the floor bare. As well as your closet…as you carefully approach, you see that there’s almost nothing left inside. “You’ll thank me before long.”

It’s getting very hard to contain yourself now. “I bought those.”

“And I will be happy to provide some more… suitable replacements.” His image flickers in front of you - a moment later, he reappears by your side. It’s not the first time this has happened, either, but it makes you shudder every time. “To be entirely honest…” An odd twist of his neck brings his face directly in front of yours, nose nearly brushing your own. “I should have done this long ago.” He takes you by the shoulder, and guides you across the room to your dresser. “I’m nearly done already. Only a few drawers left to go.”

You stare up at him, hardening your gaze. Doing your best to sound confident, and not terrified of speaking up. “I want them back.”

“I’m afraid that’s not an option. What’s done is done.” He turns, and reaches for the handle of a drawer. The small one, in the top corner.

Oh. Your stomach knots as you realize which drawer, exactly, he’s about to open. You can’t, under any circumstances, let him see what’s in there. But your protest is so frantic that it’s barely comprehensible. “That one - don’t… ”

He laughs shortly, as if you’ve said something only mildly amusing. “You’re getting hostile again, my dear. You know I don’t appreciate that.”

In a panic, you blurt out the question that rises to the top of your head. It will distract him for a moment, if nothing else. “Why are you doing this?”

You realize immediately that this was a mistake. Questioning him is always a mistake.

But then again - you would like to know.

He pauses, the corner of his grin twitching upward. Eyes narrowing as his head swivels in your direction. “I’ve taken a liking to you, my dear.” He certainly doesn’t sound as if he likes you at the moment. His voice drips with condescension. “So when you do things, or have things, that I don’t like, I find it rather jarring.” He takes a deep breath. After he exhales, his eyes flash, and he continues in his usual lighthearted tone. “Taking those things away is quite a comfort to me.”

His smile seems a touch more genuine now. Somehow, that makes it more unsettling. So much so that you freeze up for just a second too long.

“Back to business, then.” He lashes out a hand, and yanks the drawer open.

As soon as he peers inside, he goes rigid. You stiffen, as well, but certainly not for the same reason. You take a deep breath, trying to ignore the sharp static suddenly buzzing in your ears. “I told you…”

“No, you didn’t .” He dips a single finger into the drawer, and pulls out the garment on top by its strap, dangling it in midair and examining it. It’s black, like the shirt you’d walked in on him tossing earlier - but it’s certainly not designed for going out. Or for anywhere besides your bedroom. He stares at it for some time, until his silence becomes too much to bear.

“You shouldn’t have”-

“My dear.” He laughs softly, more to himself than to you. “I’d really prefer you not tell me what I should or shouldn’t do.” His voice is sickeningly sweet, so fake that it’s painful to your ears, its conceit betrayed by the telltale twitch in his eye. “Now. Do tell me. What could have possessed you, to spend your hard-earned money on something like this ?” He tilts his head, and stares, clearly waiting for a response.

This question has no good answer, but some are worse than others, so you choose your words carefully. “It…I like how it looks?”

“Hm.” If he wasn’t grinning, as always, you’re sure he’d be grimacing instead. “I can’t say I understand.” He sets it down in the drawer for a moment, and carefully tugs off his glove. “Nor do I wish to.”

You watch in a mixture of mortification and horror as he takes hold of your lingerie once again, and snags his nails across the fabric, easily rending it to pieces. He drops the torn fabric carelessly to the floor, kicks it under your dresser, and pointedly wipes his hand on his sleeve before replacing his glove.

“Ah, well. No need to say anything more about it now.” His eyes trail to the remaining contents of the drawer. “I do hope that you’re not quite as fond of the rest.” He drops his hand over the pile, and a moment later, a soft green flame envelops it. For a moment, you panic, sure that your entire dresser is about to burn, but the flame disappears with the last of your lingerie, leaving not so much as a pile of ashes behind.

You peer into the empty drawer, mouth ajar. “I really wish you hadn’t done that.” You’re probably getting into risky territory, but this mixture of embarrassment and irritation is becoming too much to bear.

“Hm?” His eyes are gleaming. There’s something dangerous there, you think, something that you have to tread carefully around. “You didn’t get so worked up over the rest of your closet. Is this different to you?”

“You said you’d replace the rest,” you mutter, judging it to be the safest possible answer. The least likely to cause further embarrassment. “I doubt you’re going to make the same offer with…those.”

“Oh? Who says?” His eyes gleam, in that way they do when he gets an idea that no one around him is going to enjoy. “I’ll admit that I wasn’t planning on it…but those things clearly meant a lot to you. And I enjoy your company far too much to let something so small come between us.”

You think that you’d certainly like something to come between you and him. A wall, perhaps. Or a large metal gate.

“So! If it’s a replacement you want, a replacement you shall have.” He sharply closes the drawer, and kicks at a strip of shredded black fabric that still protrudes from beneath your dresser. “It should be something that can be worn in bed, I suppose. But I prefer to interpret that in a more traditional sense. Something to be worn to sleep.” His head tilts dramatically, and somewhere far above your head, you think you hear a few notes of a slow, lilting song, piped in from many decades ago. “And I believe I have just the thing.” That intractable smile pulls back, just a fraction. “Let’s see what it looks like on you, shall we?”

You open your mouth to protest. But of course, you don’t manage to get a word out before he flicks his hand in your direction.

When you look down, your previous outfit is gone. And in its place…well. Like Alastor said, there’s nothing lurid about it. It’s a slip of sorts, made of thin, silky off-white fabric that falls almost to your knees. Delicate enough that you wouldn’t wear it outside, but modest enough that you don’t feel entirely exposed. It’s something to be worn to bed, indeed. But not by you. There’s nothing you about it. The fabric itself appears brand new, but like all the things Alastor seems to appreciate most, the design clearly comes from long before your time.

You find, suddenly, that you don’t know how to hold yourself. How to act. Your arms hang awkwardly at your sides, feeling heavy as your fingertips skim the silk that surround your thighs.

You realize, after the moment of disorientation had passed, that Alastor is not acting like himself, either. He’s quiet. You were expecting mockery, some ridiculous comment that would make you melt into the ground - but it appears that the results of your transformation have caught him off guard.

There’s a creak on the floorboards to your right. A faint sigh. “I must say, my dear…” Alastor’s voice is softer than you expected, and almost devoid of the static filter that usually coats his words. “It suits you better than I could have imagined.”

You think that you’d prefer taunting to whatever this is.

“I’d go so far as to say you look quite lovely.”

You keep your eyes downcast, not wanting to see his face just yet, and examine the finer details of the garment he’s cast upon you. It has narrow straps, and lace at the neckline, which is high enough to give nothing away. The hem is also lacy, and the cut is straight, not so much defining your curves as endeavoring to erase them as much as possible. Objectively speaking, it is quite pretty. But you’re left with the impression that you’ve strode into someone else’s closet, and departed wearing their clothes.

“Don’t you agree?”

Slowly, hesitantly, you look up. Alastor’s eyes are fixed on you, shining a brighter red than you’ve ever seen. There’s nothing vulgar about the way he’s staring - but he’s not merely amused, either. Instead, he’s looking at you with rapt fascination, in much the way that one would contemplate a particularly exquisite piece of art in a gallery.

“I’m…not sure.” You instinctively cross your arms, almost wishing that you saw a more crude impulse behind his eyes. That, at least, would be easier to understand. Instead, it’s something like appreciation - or pride. More of the latter. If you were merely a piece of art, you’d imagine that this would be how your creator would look at you, upon seeing you on display for the first time.

“No need to hide.” He reaches forward, and touches you lightly on the wrist. It’s enough to send both of your arms falling to your sides. “You couldn’t even if you tried.”

His smile, again, seems entirely too real. There’s nothing threatening about his tone. It’s even, charming. And yet…

He slips behind you, and his hand moves to your waist - a test, you think, to see if you’ll slap it away. “But I don’t think you’re planning on trying, are you?”

“No.” You’re surprised by how quickly the word comes out of your mouth, how breathless. It was an odd question, one that hinted at more than the subject in front of it, and seemed to demand an answer.

His other hand joins the first on your waist, and he turns you around, so quickly that you almost stumble, his palms dancing lightly over your barely covered skin. When you’re facing him, one hand slides up, curling around your jaw and holding tight, keeping your gaze turned up towards his face. And it is a long way up - it’s almost embarrassing how small you are compared to him. He stares down, staying silent for much longer than you’re used to, his breathing just a touch heavier than usual.

His fingers tighten over the silk at your waist, pressing into your skin, a small twitch of his hand pulling the fabric very slightly upwards. It barely moves the hem at all - less than an inch - but somehow leaves you feeling infinitely more exposed. You almost flinch away, but after just a moment, he lets go, all at once. In fact, he practically jerks his hands back, as if he’s only just become aware of what he’s doing, and doesn’t approve. His smile, all of a sudden, appears incredibly fragile.

“Oh…” He laughs softly - it feels forced. “Forgive me, darling. I truly don’t know what came over me.”

You’re not quite sure, either. And as usual, you neither expect nor want an answer.

He steps to your side, leans slightly over you, both hands clasped behind his back. With what seems like some effort, he forces the usual lighthearted tone back into his voice. “You do want to keep it, don’t you?”

“Yes.” You’d prefer not to, you think, if this is the sort of reaction it draws out of him. But you can’t very well get rid of it, if he doesn’t want you to. And, you reassure yourself, just because you have it doesn’t mean you have to wear it.

“Good.” Again, overhead - but not so far overhead as last time - that lilting old melody falls into your ears. You have the odd impulse to cover them, but you force yourself to keep your hands at your sides. “It is getting late…I think you might as well keep it on, and get yourself all ready for bed.”

You’d like to push back. But all you can manage is a mute nod.

“Lovely.” He starts to raise his hand, as if to reach out and touch you again, but seems to think better of it. The hand falls, and disappears behind his back once more. “Sleep well, my dear.” Quickly, he turns on his heel, only calling out one final line before slipping out through your door. “You’ll see me again soon.”

You have no doubt that you will.

Alone in your room, you slowly approach the mirror that stands in the corner. Your reflection does not change your initial impression. You don’t look like yourself. You don’t like it. And it’s not like he’ll know if you take it off, change into something more comfortable…

Your eyes fall upon your nearly empty closet, and you remember that you don’t have anything more comfortable. Not anymore.

This is alright, you try to tell yourself. It’s just a piece of clothing.

Just a piece of clothing that you can’t imagine wearing for any other reason, or for anyone else.

Your eyes fall upon the empty drawer in the top corner of your dresser, and trail over to your bed. Quickly, you drop your gaze to the floor. You realize, with a sigh, that it will be a long time before you have any company besides him in this room. In fact, it’s possible that you’ll never open your door for anyone again.

At the moment, doing so would feel far too much like allowing a guest into someone else’s home.

#alastor x reader #yandere alastor #tw yandere #tw power imbalance

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soapskneebrace · 1 year

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in the early morning

Pairing: John Price x f!Reader Rating: All Ages Word Count: 1.4k Warnings: none Author's Notes: I am dedicating this specifically to @yeyinde who is so graciously assisting my poor American ass with basic UK knowledge, and to @guyfieriii who I've had so much fun talking about Professor Price with and has thus inspired me to play with my own AU. Thus, I present: Neighbors AU! MASTERLIST Now on Ao3!

You’re about to knock again when your neighbor finally answers the door.

It’s the last place, time, and chore you want to be involved in—nearly 6am, looking to register a noise complaint with a man you’ve never met, shivering in flannel pajamas and bundled into two coats on his stoop.

The landlady Mrs. Walmsley had pitched for your flat hard on the basis of this mystery neighbor being absent for months at a time.

“He’s SAS, dear,” she’d said in that little nasally voice. Her eyes had been excitedly wide behind thick, round glasses. “A captain. They have him going all over the world, so it’ll be quiet as the countryside here at home.”

Evidently not.

The world is still swaying a little, indignant on behalf of your interrupted REM, as the door swings open before your knuckles can connect. Then you’re sure you’ve fallen back to sleep, because in the doorway stands a tall, handsome, shirtless man with a bowl of cereal cupped in one very large hand.

You’re not sure where to look, but your gaze has not waited for your brain’s directive, because you take in a trim, sturdy waist, full pectorals, and thick, strong arms all dusted in a pretty composition of dark hair before thinking to actually look the man in the eye.

Oh. Equally disconcerting. He has a kind, lined face, a dark beard and soft blue eyes that are focused directly on you.

Whatever words you had half-planned to say flee like birds startled away from a park bench. You think, SAS. Captain. Couldn’t Mrs. Walmsley have mentioned even once that he looks like an honest-to-god movie star?

You must look like you’re staring into the headlights of an oncoming car, because the SAS Captain’s dark brows crease in the middle. “You alright, love?”

You blink. “Um.” Goodness, no man’s voice deserved to sound that sultry so early. Or did it sound that way because it’s so early? “I, um.”

He tilts his head, listening. You have to rub your eyes so you can stop looking at him.

“I’m sorry,” you say, noting the dumb, drowsy slur of your thus-unused voice. “I don’t mean to bother you.”

“Not a bother at all,” says the Captain. “What can I do for you?”

This is going somehow far better, and simultaneously much worse, than you could have imagined.

“It’s,” you try, peeking at him as you reluctantly lower your hands from your face, “it’s the telly. Or the music. I—you’ve got something playing, and I don’t mean to be a pest, but it woke me up, and—”

His brows shoot up his forehead, and you can see realization bloom across his expression. “And it’s loud, isn’t it?”

Before you can nod, he steps away from the door, and you can see him retreat into the living area to retrieve a remote. He points it at something, his long, muscled arm outstretched, and the noise, which you had failed to even notice once he’d opened the door, instantly silences.

He comes back to the door. “Better?”

You blink. You try very hard not to stare at his chest, which is pebbling with goosebumps in the morning cold. “Uh—yes, that should be alright. Thank you.”

“No trouble,” says the Captain, stirring his cereal without looking at it, blue eyes once again directly on you. “I’m sorry, didn’t know someone had moved in.”

“Just a month ago,” you admit. And you introduce yourself, because even half-asleep your manners haven’t completely fled you.

The Captain nods. “That explains it. I’ve been out of the country. I’m John Price. You can just call me John.”

Out of the country. SAS. Captain. Strong arms, and soft blue eyes. Suddenly you feel very small, shivering on this man’s—John Price’s—front doorstep, bundled up like you’ve never experienced a cold day in your life, while he stands there half-naked and not even blinking at the bite of 4C.

“Well,” you say, trying to remember how conversation worked, “welcome home?”

John Price smiles at you, then, and you’re struck even in your drowsy state by it. It’s a sad smile trying its best to be happy.

“Thank you,” he says. And by the way he’s looking at you, blue eyes gone even softer than before, you think he’s appreciated your half-hearted pleasantry far more than it deserves.

“Well, um.” You flounder. When you stepped up to the door, your only intention had been to make this as quick as possible, wanting to return to the warmth of your bed underneath six blankets as fast as you could manage.

Now—okay, you still want to get back into bed. But Captain John Price (still shirtless) seems in no rush to hurry you away, and it isn’t every day that a mysterious, dashing soldier trains his attention solely upon you.

The still-asleep part of your brain wonders shamelessly if he’d be as warm as those blankets if you touched his bare skin. You strangle the thought immediately.

“I don’t know if you know Mrs. Walmsley,” you say, “but she had some quite nice things to say about you.”

Captain John Price smiles again, and it’s a little less sad and a little more amused. “Did they have to do specifically with my absence?”

SAS. It’s only six in the morning. The lying part of your brain is still asleep, if it would even be any use here. “It came up? Sorry?”

He doesn’t laugh, but the huff that comes out of him resembles it enough that you know he’s not offended. “Don’t be. Seems like she has trouble keeping the place lived in as it is. Think you’re the first one who’s actually talked to me.”

“That’s a shame!” you say in earnest.

But John Price shrugs. “I can’t imagine they would’ve enjoyed talking to me too much. Career soldiers aren’t all that interesting—I should know, I spend most of my time around them.”

“Well, I think you seem very nice,” you insist, and despite the morning’s rude awakening, you’re being entirely truthful.

John opens his mouth to reply, but a cold wind chooses that exact moment to blow, and you are not able to suppress a full body shiver as it hits. You tug your coats more tightly around your body, tucking your hands into your sleeves.

John frowns. “Not nice enough to send you back inside where it’s warm, clearly.” He sets the cereal bowl out of view and crosses his arms loosely across his bare chest. “Aren’t you freezing?”

“Me?!” you exclaim, astonished, face warming. “You’re wearing less than I am!”

“I’ll be fine,” says John. “I hate to think I’ve kept you out here suffering. Please, I appreciate the conversation, but you don’t need to indulge me.”

But you want to, you find, and very badly. You want to stay in this man’s soft blue gaze, listen to his rumbling voice, even if you stop being able to feel your own body from the cold. There’s something about Captain John Price that’s unusually compelling (helped by the absence of a shirt), and you feel in that moment a little like you’re brushing up against someone more important than someone like you will ever be.

But you recognize a polite dismissal when you hear it, too.

“If anything, I’ve been the one keeping you,” you say, smiling apologetically. “But it’s been very nice to meet you, John.”

He smiles at you again, and it’s the same one from before—sad, trying to be happy. He says your name, and it sounds better than it has ever sounded, wrapped in the rough baritone of his voice. “Pleasure to meet you too. Truly.”

You smile back, and leave his doorstep. You’re not sure now how you’re going to fall back to sleep now.

You’re twisting the handle of your front door when suddenly John calls your name. When you turn to look at him, he’s leaning a little out of his doorway, balancing himself with a hand on the inside of its frame.

“If I ever get to noisy for your liking,” he says, “just knock on the wall, and I’ll bring it down, aye?”

“Okay!” you reply. “And you too, yeah? I don’t want to bother you, either!”

“I don’t imagine you could,” John says, giving you another amused huff, “but sure.”

You don’t know how to respond to that, so you wave, and escape inside.

#cod x reader #cod mwii #cod fanfic #cod:mw2 #cod imagine #cod mw2 #mw2 fanfic #mw2 imagine #mw2 x reader #cod mw2 fanfic #john price x you #john price x reader #captain john price x you #captain john price x reader #price x reader #og post #neighbors au

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jikookuntold · 1 month

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What Is Like Crazy About?

Since the day "Like Crazy" was released, I wanted to post about it, but couldn't get the time to focus and do a comprehensive analysis. Finally, right before the first anniversary of this masterpiece, I got the time, and the post is ready now. Before starting off, I have to remind you of the fact that a work of art can be interpreted in many different ways, and none of those interpretations are necessarily right or wrong. Every work of art contains a message that is the artist’s main intention from that creation, but the artist doesn’t have to explain it to the audience because a true work of art speaks for itself, even though not all audiences can receive it thoroughly.

I know that in the past year, so many different types of analyses and theories were made by fans to explain this song, and most definitely, I couldn’t keep up with all of them. Therefore, I’m not claiming my analysis to be a breakthrough, and you might have read most parts of it somewhere else. In this post, we are going to discuss “Like Crazy” from a lyrical and conceptual point of view, trying to find out what message or messages Jimin wanted to convey by creating it.

About “Like Crazy”

“Like Crazy” as the title track for Jimin's first solo album, "FACE", stole the hearts of millions of fans and locals around the world, and inarguably became one of the most successful pop songs of the year 2023. I can talk for hours about how beautiful and successful “Like Crazy” is, and how it broke KPop boundaries and countless records. But, in this post, we are going to break to the surface and talk about the meanings and motivations behind this song and answer the questions like “How this song was made?” “What was Jimin's intention in writing these romantic lyrics?”

As I mentioned earlier, artists usually don’t directly address their main message and their intention in creating a form of art, but many of them speak about the motivations and inspirations that led them to the creation. Jimin hasn’t talked much about the sources of inspiration behind individual tracks of “FACE”, but I guess “Like Crazy” was an exception for him because he revealed on several occasions that he was inspired by “Like Crazy”, the movie. And this piece of information is the key to our analysis:

"I tried to express the feelings of that movie. You know, the somewhat complex, somewhat lonely, somewhat happy emotions. I tried to express all these ambiguous and subtle emotions in a slightly sexy way, but I’m not sure how it’ll end up being received by people.”

Like Crazy, The Movie

First of all, we need to keep in mind that “Like Crazy” is a completely original song, and Jimin has not used or sampled any songs, lines, or dialogues from the movie in his lyrical or visual concepts (even the intro and outro dialogues in the song were original and not from the movie). If Jimin had not stated his source of inspiration directly, the only hint that could have led us to it would be the title of the song, which duplicates the title of the movie since the title never appears in the lyrics.

So, Jimin chose this specific name for his song and announced his source of inspiration to make it clear that there is a straight and strong connection between the song and the movie. He made it clear that this connection is 100% conceptual and emotional, and if we want to know what “Like Crazy” is about, and what ambiguous and subtle feelings Jimin is talking about, we have to redirect the analysis to the concept of the movie, “Like Crazy”.

As we all know, “Like Crazy” is a romantic movie, and Drake Doremus directed it casting "Felicity Jones" and the late "Anton Yelchin" as the main characters, Anna and Jacob. Doremus based the storyline of this low-budget movie on his experience being in a long-distance relationship with his partner and developed it into a 90-minute-long movie, which was released in 2011 and became relatively successful.

Anna and Jacob

A few days before the release of “FACE”, I was informed that the title track, “Like Crazy” is based on a movie of the same name. After learning this fact, I had to re-watch it because I couldn’t remember anything after a decade, and I had some questions like: “What was in this movie that made it so special for Jimin?” “How would Jimin feel watching this?”. Having this mindset helped me to see the movie differently, but before explaining those new insights we need a short storyline of the movie:

Anna is a British exchange student in LA, where she falls in love with Jacob, an American student, and they start dating. Anna, blinded by her love for Jacob, overstays her student visa and consequently gets banned from re-entering the United States. After experiencing a forced LDR, Jacob flies to London to visit Anna, and her father suggests that getting married might resolve the issue, but they are not ready for this big step. Jacob goes back to LA and basically chooses his job over Anna, but after some time, they realize that they can’t be apart, and they decide to get married. Six months after the marriage, when the time for the appeal of Anna’s ban comes, it gets rejected, and they lose their last hope of being together. Again, they go back to their sad lives, but after some time, Anna is finally offered a visa, and she leaves everything behind to reunite with Jacob. The ending scene shows how this separation has damaged their relationship, and things will never be the same.

The movie portrays the hardships of a long-distance relationship and the damage the separation can do to two souls and their connection. I think the recent movie by "Celine Song" named "Past Lives" was partially similar to like crazy, but also there was a big difference; unlike Nora and Haesung in “Past Lives”, Anna and Jacob don’t leave it to fate, they don’t forget about each other and don’t settle down with others just because their love seemed difficult or impossible.

They found true happiness only next to each other and did everything against all odds (especially Anna) to take that back. Maybe if Anna and Jacob weren’t in love like crazy and were more mature and realistic, they would end up like Nora and Haesung (Sorry if this spoiled that movie for you), but they didn’t and made their own bittersweet ending.

Many people claim that “Like Crazy” is a breakup movie with a sad ending, therefore, Jimin’s song also must be a breakup song. But, first of all, the ending can somehow be considered an open ending. We don’t know what happens after the shower scene, but we see them together, in each other’s arms, and this is not a totally sad ending by any movie standards. Other than that, Anna and Jacob became separated a few times, but they don't officially break up by choice, their separation is the result of contractual rules and laws, made by society.

This movie, as its director explained, might be originally about a long-distance relationship, but also the main relationship in this movie can be seen as a relationship that gets strained by laws and regulations, it’s about the rules and imaginary borders that decide if two people can be together or ban them from it. It’s a story of the “love against law”.

A Heterosexual Love Story?

When “Like Crazy” was released in theatres back in 2011, it got positive reviews for good acting that made the movie feel sweet and intimate with mostly improvised dialogues. Meanwhile, the negative reviews were focused on the plotline of this drama, calling it far from reality. Other than the fact that Jacob could have easily resolved this issue by taking his job from LA to London, in reality, the couple wouldn’t have faced this much difficulty over the legal complications, especially after getting married.

The fact is, straight couples usually never face this kind of hardship, and governments take that easy on them otherwise, there wouldn’t be so many sham marriages around the world just to get citizenship. So, the idea of a couple getting separated by law is not common, and that’s why many people called this movie implausible. But, a queer person can familiarly receive this implausibility, like when they want to be with someone forever, but the laws don’t let them.

Could it be this feeling that made “Like Crazy” special and a source of inspiration for Jimin? Or was it something smaller like the Santa Monica beach scene? I have no answer, I only make theories, and I think it’s better to leave the movie here and start the lyrical interpretation to see how these words and feelings can get connected.

The Lyrics

[Intro]

(I think we could last forever (I'm afraid that everything will disappear Just trust me)

As I said earlier, this intro is not a dialogue from the movie, but the narrators were told to do it based on the audio from the movie that was sent to them. So, hypothetically, it’s Anna and Jacob having this conversation. He is afraid of losing everything, but Anna assures him that if he trusts her, they can last forever. In the MV, we see Jimin standing in the crowd, but the time goes in reverse, and through a transition into his eyes, we see him sitting alone. Weirdly, the outro of the song is playing in the background here, but we will figure out the reason later.

[Verse 1]

Korean Version, Translated

She's saying Baby, don't think about it There's not a bad thing here tonight Baby, it's fine if you leave Stay with me, just for today

English Version

She's saying, Baby, come and follow me There's not a bad thing here tonight Save your reasons all for later Stay with me a little while

Anna asks him to follow her and assures him that everything is fine, it’s fine if this is not going to last long. It’s not the time for reason and overthinking. The gendered pronoun here refers to Anna, but we will know more about her in the next verses. It is worth mentioning that in the primary handwritten lyrics by Jimin, there was no “She” and it was modified later considering the dialogues added to the intro. Anyway, we know Jimin didn’t release these drafts in his album for no reason.

In this part of the MV, we see Jimin sitting alone in a room, and with a flicker of lights, the room is filled with mud. Suddenly, a muddy hand of a girl grabs Jimin’s hand and leads him to a party. There are several symbols in this part, the lonely room is Jimin’s reality, and the party is his dream. The mud symbolizes dreams and desires that leave their trace on your life and soul.

[Verse 2]

Korean Version, Translated

Watch me go Drenching myself all night (Away) So that even the morning Gets drunk and doesn't arrive

English Version

Watch me go Now, I sink down, all alone away Where am I? A dark haze clouding up my eyes

From here, we don’t see the girl because Jimin and the girl became one. She was her reflection from the beginning, the side that leads him out of his loneliness, and allures him to his dreams and desires, tempts him to be careless and stop thinking too much. Some say she is Jimin’s Anima, but these lyrics never go to the deep levels of the subconscious to reach the Anima. She is his feminine side that is a tangible side of him, and Jimin’s asymmetric makeup gives it away. Also, the mirrored moves between Jimin and the female dancer in “Like Crazy’s” choreography made it clear that the feminine presence in this song is Jimin’s reflection.

[Pre-Chorus]

Korean Version, Translated

As the loud music I get faded out A cliché story like a drama I get used to it Have I come too far to find the me that you used to know Yeah, I know You know I know (Ooh)

English Version

I can hear the voices listening Don't know who they are Trying to take the pressure off Been reaching for the stars Tell me, will I find myself again? When I go too far? Yeah, I know You know, I know (Ooh)

Jimin enters the party and starts drinking, dancing, and having fun with the others. He laughs and enjoys himself in the crowd and trusts the supposed strangers, but the confusion doesn’t leave him alone. He feels lost, and as the lyrics say, he is worried about going too far and not finding himself again. The two opposite sides of him are conflicting. It’s the contradiction between "fear and desire", between "pain and numbness", between "loneliness and losing yourself", and between "reason and dream" that leaves him confused.

[Chorus and Post Chorus]

Korean Version, Translated

I'd rather be Lost in the lights, Lost in the lights I'm outta my mind Hold onto the end of the night Every night You spin me up high The moon with you in its arms Let me have a taste Give me a good ride (Oh, I'm fallin', I'm fallin', I'm fallin') Oh, it's gon' be a good night (Oh, I'm fallin') Forever, you and I

English Version

I'd rather be Lost in the lights, lost in the lights I'm outta my mind Can you help me numb the pain? Each night, you spin me up high Emotions on ice Let me have a taste Give me a good ride (Oh, I'm fallin', I'm fallin', I'm fallin') Oh, it's gon' be a good night (Oh, I'm fallin') Forever, you and I

In this part, he confesses which side he really wants to follow. He wants to go out of his mind, lose himself to the desire, and leave the reason behind. It’s the escapism that saves him from loneliness and the pain of real life. The chorus is the sexy and at the same time, the most poetic part of this song, especially where he is spinning up high in the arms of the moon.

The last line of the post-chorus, “Forever you and I” which also repeats in the last part of the interlude, is crucial because it declares that Jimin is not talking about vagrancy or promiscuity. He wants it all with his significant other, the only one who can help him numb the pain of real life and escape it. But this escapism has its consequences, and we see all that mud flush out of every corner symbolizing it. This scene artistically ends with Jimin facing his reflection in the crowd. The question is, is this reflection the same significant other, or is it Jimin himself? We will get the answer in the next part.

[Verse 3]

Korean Version, Translated

The me, reflected in the mirror Is going crazy endlessly I'm feelin' so alive, wasting time

English Version

All my reflections, I Can't even recognize I'm feelin' so alive, wasting time

His fear of losing himself was true, and it's happening now. This duality confuses him and makes him question his reality. Which side is the true Jimin? He doesn't care anymore because this escapism makes him feel alive.

Here in the MV, we see Jimin facing the reflection, and it immediately cuts to the restroom scene where he faces his literal reflection in the mirror and talks to him about not recognizing him anymore. Then, the restroom being dismantled symbolizes his state of mind. "The reflection of myself in an unfamiliar appearance" was the concept of "his "FACE" which was a whole album about Jimin himself.

[Outro]

This will break me This is gonna break me (Break me) No, don't you wake me (Wake me) I wanna stay in this dream, don't save me Don't you try to save me (Save me) I need a way we (Way we) I need a way we can dream on (On, on, on) (Alone again What's the point?)

Jimin knows the consequences of losing himself but embraces it. He knows it's gonna break him but doesn't want to wake up from his dream. He knows everything will collapse but doesn't need a savior. He wants to stay in that dream, but he knows it's impossible, and sooner or later, he will be dragged out of it.

Is there a way to cut all the connections to the real world of loneliness and stay in this dream forever? We get the answer in the MV, and it's not positive because suddenly, everything goes backward in speed, to where we started (remember the outro being played in the beginning? That was the clue).

He goes back to his lonely room with a muddy hand. Did his hand get dirty from a touch of his reflection, or was the muddy hand in the beginning his own hand? Is he trapped in a loop? Maybe. Maybe this wasn't his first or the last time coming back from that dreamland, and it was the reason for so much mud accumulated in his room. He is a regular in that dreamland and he can't quit.

Conclusion

It's understandable if this analysis of the movie, lyrics, and the MV didn't guide you in any direction, and maybe you are even more confused after reading it all. But don't blame yourself because Jimin already told us that, his emotions for this movie are complex. So, don't look for just one answer, maybe we are not supposed to end up with one conclusion, and this song also can have multiple interpretations and meanings. But what are these meanings?

If you pay attention to the lyrics and the MV you will realize that despite them being aligned and in sync, the lyrics have more connection to the movie. While filming the MV, Jimin mentioned that things (scenes of the MV) didn't happen like this in real life, which was an obvious fact, because this song is clearly not about being the life of the party and stuff like that, and has more internal meanings.

In "Like Crazy", Jimin talks about the loneliness of his real life, the isolation and limitations he experienced during the pandemic, and maybe other times. But Jimin finds an alternate reality, where he can be himself, be free and careless, and forget about the future. This alternate reality is rooted in two possibilities: The feminine side, and the significant other. The feminine side is what we face in the MV, and there are not many signs of it in the lyrics.

The feminine side appears as a muddy hand and a presence at the part that faces Jimin and becomes one with him as his reflection. The idea of "bigender" is nothing new in the concepts that Jimin has offered on different occasions, from his fake tattoos in ARMY-Zip 2019 to the performance of "Filter" in 2020 and his photopholio in 2022, he has expressed this fluidity in his work, and I think the visual concept of "Like Crazy" with his different makeup in the MV and the choreography was the epitome of it.

What about the significant other? As I mentioned in the analysis of chorus parts, "Forever You and I" Can only be interpreted as his exclusiveness to someone who is his significant other. This person is the one who saves Jimin from his loneliness and assures him about their happy ending. This person has no doubt in them lasting forever and only wants Jimin to trust him to take the lead and let that happen.

He keeps saying to his significant other that there is no future. They can't be together forever, this is just a temporary situation, and despite finding comfort in each other, they should not get attached because they will forced to be separated. It's not like Jimin doesn't believe in this love, he does and has the same wishes and dreams, but he keeps getting dragged to the real world where the rules govern.

This part is just a personal opinion as a Jikooker, but I did this analysis in my head last year when "Like Crazy" was newly released and had no intention of making a connection between this and Jikook, until "Seven" came out. We all know JK had no hand in making the sexy lyrics of "Seven", but after watching the MV (which had nothing to do with the lyrics), I couldn't unsee the fact that the concept of Seven's MV looked so much like a response to "Like Crazy's" lyrics. Still, we don't know if JK gave any ideas for the concept of the MV, but considering his record of working as an MV director, it's not impossible.

The End.

This is all I could say about "Like Crazy", a masterpiece that is still thriving in the charts and still touches people's hearts because it comes from real and deep emotions that Jimin had in his heart. That emotion got us the moment we listened to it for the first time, even though verbalizing it, is never easy, no matter how many analyses and reviews we write.

#jimin #jikook #like crazy #analysis

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babysfirstfic · 3 months

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live now, think later

luke hughes x fem!reader

word count: 1.7k

summary: Luke desperately needs to blow off some steam. In a dingy bar, he finds just what he's looking for...

warnings: Brief allusions to sex, but nothing major. Yet. (18+)

a/n: This is my first ever fic! I would love to hear feedback if you have any. I plan for this to be chapter 1 of 3 (but we'll see what happens)! Shoutout to this Tate McRae song for directly inspiring the title and for subconsciously inspiring the plot.

There were few NHL rookies who had more eyes trained on them than Luke Hughes. Between the constant media attention he received from a young age and the pressure that came with his last name, Luke had always had a complicated relationship with his celebrity.

Don’t get it twisted, Luke was super grateful for all the advantages that came with having two all stars for brothers, and there was a part of him that enjoyed leaning into his status.

On the ice, he welcomed the attention. He loved the chance to put on a show for the fans, reveling in the opportunities to make game-changing plays. Hockey was his craft; the minute he laced up his skates he was an artist, an author, a showman. A single goal could cause an entire stadium to rise to their feet, and the power he felt in those moments was indescribable.

Off the ice, though, it was a different story.

Luke prided himself on his maturity and his charm, his ability to keep his cool even while being peppered with questions and surrounded by cameras. He had years to perfect the art of the interview, expertly dodging personal inquiries and even cracking the occasional smile to make it seem like he didn’t absolutely despise answering the same inane questions over and over again.

But one could only keep up appearances for so long. He found it exhausting to have to perform all the time. Though he understood it was a sacrifice he’d have to make now that he was living out his dreams, that didn’t make it any easier.

After several months in the league, he craved a chance to be something other than “Luke Hughes, the hockey player”. He desperately needed to let loose and to make use of the other sides of his personality, the spicier sides, the sides that the cameras would never get to see.

It was time for this Devil to earn his horns.

Within the first few months of being in New Jersey, Luke quickly learned which bars would bend the rules for him. In his desperation to fit in with any teammate who didn’t share his DNA, he was willing to do pretty much anything to get in, buying fake IDs, signing jerseys, you name it. He felt it showed his teammates just how committed he was to building their relationships, on and off the ice.

But tonight, his team couldn’t have been further from his mind. This time, he’d come alone.

Luke had never had the time or energy for dating, but he thrived on quick hook ups and meaningless sex. No obligation for vulnerability or commitment, just fun. After the whirlwind that had been last year, he needed some fun, and tonight, he was willing to work for it.

His bar of choice was dingy, a typical dive bar, complete with sticky floors and disgruntled employees, but the low key lighting and loud music allowed for the perfect cover. Luke felt a sense of safety in his anonymity, a feeling which was becoming increasingly rare.

Waiting in a booth on the edge of the dimly lit room, he scanned the crowd, searching for a glimpse of excitement, someone to steal the blood from his brain and force it elsewhere.

Suddenly, something, no someone caught his eye. It was you.

In a glittery backless top with a loose, low cut and black pants that you filled out in all the right places, you were shaking your stuff on the dance floor. Your whole body bounced with every movement. Like a beacon in the night, the strobe lights illuminated your entirety, sending colourful fractals bouncing off in every direction. You were practically demanding Luke’s attention, and you didn’t even have to try.

You had sensed his eyes on you immediately and couldn’t help but to return his gaze. He looked young but strangely sure of himself, carrying the recognizable swagger of a man who’s used to breaking the rules and getting away with it. Luke would call it confidence, but if you asked his brothers, they’d call it his raging youngest sibling syndrome.

You were undeniably intrigued. Adding more hip movement to your dancing, you hoped that it would encourage him to join. This certainly was not your first rodeo.

It worked. Slowly, he stood up from his booth and made his way onto the dance floor. You sensed a shift in his energy, like this was something out of the ordinary for him. “Nice to know he has a weakness,” you mused to yourself, just now noticing the flutter in your heart as he inched closer.

Luke hated dancing, but something about you drew him in, like a ship of sailors drawn by the voices of sirens. Though he hoped he might meet a different fate; he hoped you might give him a happy ending.

Eventually, he reached your spot on the dance floor.

“Hey,” he spoke into your ear, leaning in close so that you could hear him above the music. You felt his breath tickle your neck, sending chills down your back and deep inside.

“Hi,” you responded, keeping your cool in spite of the tides coming in beneath you. You didn’t know him, had never seen him before, yet everything within you yearned to be close to him, craved to feel his hand against your skin, begged to know him in every sense of the word. “Sheesh girl, you need to get out more,” you thought, smiling briefly to yourself.

Without wasting any time, you grabbed his hand and placed it on the small of your back, finally experiencing the brief release of skin-on-skin. You looked up at him, attempting to decipher the look on his face. He reciprocated your gaze, flashing his crooked smile, practically threatening to melt you right then and there.

Seeing his smile mirrored on your face, he moved his other hand to match the first, pulling you in close. You nodded to express your approval and quickly fell back into your original rhythm, grinding and swaying your hips to the music. Sticking your hands in his back pockets, you led him through the motions, slowly undulating your bodies to the beat.

Your eyes scanned up and down as you let yourself take him in. There was something about this boy; he completely captivated you. With his arms around you, you felt safe. He lacked the aggression and forcefulness you had unfortunately come to expect from situations such as these. He was clearly strong, but you caught him out of his comfort zone, so he was letting you take the lead, a role you took on gladly.

After a couple minutes of finding the right rhythm, your bodies became one. The world melted away. Luke leaned in and began gently kissing your neck, stopping only to briefly nibble your ear. As your pelvises moved up and down to the beat, you began to feel the friction of something rising just below his belt. You responded in kind, sensing a growing heat and swelling between your legs. Neither of you had done this in a while and it was showing, your bodies overly excitable. But you didn’t mind; you were both getting exactly what you wanted.

“I live a couple blocks from here,” you shouted above the crowd, doing everything in your power not to let out the moan that was threatening to escape your lips. “Maybe we could finish our dance there”.

Knowing full well he couldn’t wait that long, Luke made a different suggestion. “There’s a hotel across the street. I have a room. Care to join me?”

In the haze of the crowd and the music and the night, you found yourself moving off the dance floor, out of the bar, into the open air of Newark.

Your entire body was pounding, throbbing with energy and excitement. Your hand was clasped in his, and only then, as you were making your way through the hotel lobby and down the hallway to the room, did you realize you didn’t even know his name. More importantly, you realized you didn’t care. In fact, it was better this way. No possibility of getting attached or contacting each other afterwards. A true one night stand.

As you reached the room, Luke spun you around to face him, your back firmly placed against the door. “Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked, leaning close, finally allowing you to get a good look at his face in the light.

Your gaze trailed down from his curls to his lips, before resting on his eyes. You noticed a slight sparkle in them, a glint, an invitation. This was your chance. “I’ve never been more sure,” you responded.

Lunging forward instinctively, you reached up, taking hold of his hair and guiding his lips towards yours. Your touch was confident, verging on forceful, a byproduct of the pent up energy that needed an outlet and had finally found one.

Maybe you were a little too forceful. As your bodies collided, they also made contact with the door, sending a loud noise vibrating through the hallway. You briefly paused your moment of passion to laugh, your foreheads still touching, neither of you daring to fully pull away.

“Someone’s a little eager,” Luke spoke against your lips, chuckling slightly before re-initiating the kiss.

Just as it had in the bar, the world melted away, making you forget just how publicly you were displaying your affection.

But you were both being reckless, and Luke knew it. He had been warned about pulling something like this, about bringing negative attention to himself or to the team. He was new and still needed to prove himself. Above all that, he had a squeaky clean reputation to uphold. He was trained to be tight-lipped to the media so that the focus was on his playing, not his personal life. Stunts like this could jeopardize everything he’d worked for, everything his parents sacrificed for. But god, you were making him forget all of that. There wasn’t a single thought in Luke’s mind that didn’t have to do with getting you out of your clothes and under his tongue...

#luke hughes #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes x you #luke hughes fic #luke hughes imagine #luke hughes smut #nhl fanfiction #nhl fic #nhl x reader #my own gif

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soobnny · 11 months

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i hate that man — kim seungmin.

trope. enemies to lovers. college au. fluff. seungmin being a menace.

synopsis. the four times you think you hate seungmin, and the one time you think that might not have been true after all

word count. 5.5k words

warnings. a joke about jumping out the window, crying over a failed test exam, curse words

author’s note. inspired by that tiktok audio!! u know which one i’m talking about. credits to a dialogue i got from here (ur thoughts n feedbacks r always appreciated)

one.

Kim Seungmin is not your favorite person.

He is infuriating in the way he enjoys invading your personal space, always hovering around and blabbering his mouth nonstop every chance he gets. It doesn’t help his case (not that he wants to defend it in the first place) that he finds joy in hiding your things from you. You’d be damned if you left your notebook, even a pen, on your desk unattended. You already know the culprit is seated directly behind you, and the only thing you can do is ignore him in hopes that he returns it to you unscathed.

It’s much easier to not understand the reasons for why he annoys you. You would hate to find the truth behind his actions for the fear that he did it simply because he wanted to. This would only mean there was nothing to resolve to get him to stop.

Or worse, that he hates you. You admit with shame that you thought you’d actually get along quite well with Seungmin when you first met him. It felt like a scene straight out of a movie, playful banter and soft smiles directed to each other and the hopes of meeting each other again. It was honestly like a fairytale — until it wasn’t.

And you’ve tried before, to find out. You’ve made sufficient efforts in scouring for answers as to why he was that way with you, going as far as to asking Hwang Hyunjin (as embarrassing as that turned out to be). But, you had come out of all that empty-handed. So, you leave the unknown unknown and since then decided to just endure it. But it still has you wondering from time to time, had you burned down an orphanage in your past life to deserve this? Had you done something so sinister to be plagued by the presence of Kim Seungmin on a daily basis?

So, while you don’t necessarily hate the boy, you’d go as far as to say he was probably your least favorite person. And that notion weighs heavy considering you know resident menace Choi Beomgyu.

Still, Choi Beomgyu had nothing on Kim Seungmin so he’d have to accept being second to the last on your self-proclaimed list.

Speaking of the devil.

Seungmin parades into your classroom like he owns the place, laughing aloud side by side his friends. You simply drown out his obnoxiousness, the way you always do, though it never works considering it’s apparently his top priority to get on your nerves.

“Another Mcdonalds takeout?” He inquires, picking up the discarded paper bag on your desk to look inside. “You really should stop eating this junk so early in the morning.”

“Wow, keep saying things like that and I’ll start to believe you’re starting to care about me.” You abruptly grab the bag from his hands, moving to the back of your classroom to throw your trash properly before the professor walks in.

“Don’t be silly.” He simply laughs, taking his seat on your desk. “What do you even order?”

“Food, obviously.”

“No shit, Sherlock. What food specifically?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Can’t I ask a simple question?”

You know he won’t leave you alone if you don’t answer him. And you hate that you know that. So, with a begrudging sigh, you answer the boy. “Just nuggets and a Big Mac, now get off my desk.”

“Since you asked so nicely.” He’s being sarcastic, evident in how it’s obnoxiously dripping down his tone, but you can’t find it in you to care. As long as he’s out of your hair for a few minutes.

And you almost think the Gods have answered your prayers when you don’t come across him for the rest of the day. Something about that tells you there is a silver lining for the day, even if it is only ever a little line. You would hate to be blessed with his presence atop the Chemistry test you had at 7pm.

It’s one of the few advantages to signing up for night classes. The college halls were usually dead this hour, save for a few students on their way to the library after having their fifth cup of coffee for the day. And the lack of Kim Seungmin. It’s one sacrifice, giving up hours of your night, but honestly it really isn’t as bad as people make it out to be. Especially when your professor always ends early in consideration of those who still had to commute back home — they had to catch the last train somehow.

To replace Seungmin, you had Yang Jeongin in your class, but he usually kept to himself more. He was a lot more civilized than his friend, and you’ve been hoping this would’ve at least rubbed off on Seungmin.

“You ready for the test?” Jeongin asks after you had taken your seat next to him. The first thing you discern is the lack of textbooks and notes on his desk compared to everyone else’s pathetic attempt to review last minute. It seems he’s given up like you did.

“Absolutely the fuck not. I haven’t even eaten dinner yet so this is going to be a disaster.” You laugh, dropping your bag down on the ground just as your professor walks in. Jeongin is on his phone for the rest of the free time you have left before test papers and answer sheets were distributed.

It’s a horrible hour and a half, and the difficulty of the test makes you want to fall to your knees and weep. The lack of dinner in your stomach doesn’t exactly help your case as by the last few minutes of the test, you couldn’t care less about why you use ammonium oxalate to precipitate Calcium and Magnesium. The only thing in your head is a picture of your go-to Mcdonalds order as you pass your paper.

A jumpscare greets you on your way out in the form of Kim Seungmin who is holding a Mcdonalds paper bag in his hands, the same one you had just been daydreaming about.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” The sight of the boy spikes up your blood pressure, and you have to pause in your step to catch your breath after not having dinner, suffering through a long test, and seeing Seungmin all within the span of a few hours.

Though, what he does next surprises you.

“I ordered too much for Innie so you can have this, I guess.” He mumbles, shoving the brown paper bag in your direction. It scorches your fingers as you reached to grab it before it can fall to the ground.

It was a strange sight for Seungmin to be giving you something without asking. Strange and funny for it had occurred to you that if someone were to tell you Seungmin would be your stomach’s knight in shining armor, you wouldn’t have been able to believe yourself.

“Oh, thanks? You didn’t… poison this, did you?”

“How little do you think of me?” He simply walks away before you can reply to him again.

You scrunch your nose in confusion, leaning down to look into the contents of the Mcdonalds paper bag he had just given you.

Nuggets and a Big Mac.

Was this also Jeongin’s go-to order?

When you look back up, said boy greets you with french fries stuffed in his mouth. There’s a hint of a smirk that’s barely visible from his puffed out cheeks.

“You know, you can be really stupid.” Jeongin giggles to himself, patting down your head and messing with your hair a little before waving you goodbye. “Bye (name)!”

You simply stare at their retreating figures, head tilted as you try to drink in what Jeongin had just told you.

Stupid about what? The test?

two.

What is the connotation of a very thrilled Kim Seungmin walking into the campus library as you’re struggling with your part for your joint project?

You’re almost convinced something significant had happened for him to walk in with a shit-eating grin on his face, but you know better than that now. So, you simply ignore him, turning back to your laptop as Felix and Hyunjin greet the boy. He’s late, but knowing him, he’s probably finished his part of the project. You hate to acknowledge his competence, but you have to give credit where credit is due.

You could obviously ask for help, but you’d run through the streets naked first before ever asking the boy to help you. You refuse to be subjected to his taunting more than you already were. Besides, you don’t need help from someone like Seungmin. He’d probably be so arrogant about how you needed his help.

Rubbing your eyes for a split second, you go back to furiously typing at your laptop — so aggressively that Yeji has to pull you back for a bit in fear that you’d destroy your keyboard.

The five of you work on the project diligently, finishing the monstrosity of your synthesis paper for Life Science at almost one in the morning.

When everyone moves to leave, you stay behind, telling them you still had a few deadlines to catch up on, namely a Statistics paper and a book review for your English Literary class. While it wasn’t exactly due yet, it doesn’t hurt to start them when the pump of coffee is already in your system.

“See you guys tomorrow!” You say in a hushed tone, waving at the group before moving your attention back on your laptop.

And maybe it’s the sleep deprivation getting to you but you don’t notice Seungmin still situated at the opposite end of your table.

He doesn’t say anything either. He knows you’re running 50% coffee and 50% restlessness, so he simply sits back in his chair with a book in hand.

He could use the time to annotate anyway.

When Seungmin glances back at you thirty minutes later, he can only watch in amusement when he finds you close to passing out on the wooden table of the library. Your eyelids are starting to droop, and even though it seems you’re trying your hardest to fight it, you find that your sleeved arm is far too comfortable to refuse.

He immediately puts down his book, moving across the table to wake you up. It seems the appropriate time to tell you to go home and get some rest.

When you don’t respond to the gentle shake of your shoulder, he choose the next best thing to wake you up. With a text book in hand, he drops it on the space right beside your head, creating a loud enough sound to jolt you in your sleep.

“Come on. We’re going home. You’re a lost cause, anyway.”

“Fuck you.” You grumble sleepily, sitting up and squinting at your laptop before shutting it down so you can start packing up.

“I’m flattered, really, but no thanks.”

You scoff, and he simply smirks in response as he helps you put your things back in your bag.

“Why are you still here anyway?” It’s a question you’ve been meaning to ask him since you finally noticed him an hour back, but you chose to bite down on your tongue and stay silent instead.

He shrugs. “Had to annotate this book, and I’m already at the library so I might as well.”

“Okay, whatever.” You move to grab a pen that had fallen on the ground carelessly, and in the process, you feel your head collide with Seungmin’s hand instead of the harsher corner of the table.

You see red almost immediately. You hate to admit the small gesture has butterflies erupting in your stomach.

He doesn’t say anything as he pulls his hand back, so you don’t make a big deal out of it.

“What time is it?”

“Almost 4 in the morning.”

You hum, thinking of how you were gonna get back to your dorm. It was probably still dark outside, and you weren’t exactly willing to put yourself in danger over finishing up a few schoolworks at the library.

“You can go ahead. I’ll just text Ode to see if he’s still awake.”

“Why?” He quips, pausing to stand next to you outside the doors of the building when you stop walking.

“You’re gonna make fun of me.”

“There is a chance, yes. But I might not.” Seungmin smirks, and you roll your eyes.

“I don’t wanna walk alone in the dark.”

If Seungmin wants to laugh and poke fun, it seems he’s doing a good job at holding back. “Don’t disturb his sleep. I’ll walk you back instead.”

“Wow, you’re actually being nice to me for once.” You say jokingly.

“I won’t make a habit out of it. Besides, I was the last person seen with you and I don’t wanna be responsible if you go missing.”

There goes being nice.

This is how you end up walking home with Kim Seungmin. You don’t remember much about the walk home, just the proximity from where he’s walking next to you and the warmth radiating from him in contrast to the cold night. He has his hands in his pockets the whole way home, and it’s the little details like what seems to be the first genuine smile you see from him that you remember the most.

When you reach your dorm, he simply stares at you in a way you’re not used to before bowing and turning around his step to start walking back to his own dorm.

three.

A month later, Chan from your university’s basketball team decides to host a party at his house.

Being friends with half of his friends had its perks in that he enthusiastically invites you when you walk past him by your department’s hallways. And while you had every intent to decline his offer, Ryujin had already accepted for you and told him he’d be seeing you both there.

And by 8pm, you find yourselves inside his packed house, trying to navigate your way through drunken college kids. The entire first floor reeked of alcohol and sweat which wasn’t a great combination by all means.

The music is loud from Chan’s speakers, and you immediately want to go home and jump into the comforting sheets of your bed to sleep the night away. Ryujin doesn’t let you flee as she leads you to the kitchen where she tells you of where Chan hides his secret stash of snacks and ice cream. Another silver lining.

You spend an hour chatting and laughing on the kitchen counter with Ryujin, a spoonful of ice cream in your mouths as you make fun of multiple people’s dancing — not that any of you could do any better. Actually, scratch that, Ryujin could probably take them all on. You continuously ask if it was okay for you to be stealing these expensive tubs of ice cream and Ryujin just tells you she’s done it before, and that Bang Chan could most definitely afford some more if he wanted to. So, you continue to eat the ice cream without guilt.

Well, until Chan catches the pair of you, and you apologize profusely. He just laughs it off, looking at the two of you fondly before feigning a scolding. Turns out, he simply wanted you two to join him and his friends in a round of truth or dare upstairs.

Another thing to add and check off your non-existent bucket list. To be deemed sociable enough to be included in an exclusive circle of friend’s truth or dare despite only knowing around 4 people there. You think it might just be Ryujin’s doing, but you happily tag along to escape the mass of people downstairs.

When you make it upstairs, you’re surprised to see you know a lot more people than you thought you would. Yeji was there, seated beside who you think is Karina. Jeongin is with his friends, Seungmin included. Some of them you know, and some you just learned to be Jisung, Changbin, and Minho. The rest don’t really matter to you as you prop yourselves down in the circle.

And then a round of the game starts, and you start to question the things in this world that perplexed you. You used to think it were simple things — wet doorknobs, tuna fish, cramps, back pains. But after tonight, you might have to start modifying your own list. You can start with someone’s attempt to rap freestyle, the sight of a shirtless Han Jisung whom you’ve barely exchanged a word with but now have seen him half naked, the sudden knowledge of who was wearing a Spongebob themed underwear, someone (you believe was Minho?) roleplaying a scene from Zootopia. The list is endless.

Who knew a game of truth or dare could be this chaotic? Though, you probably should’ve known that especially being thrown into a group of such dynamic people.

Before you know it, the bottle lands on you and you’ve never wanted to wipe the smirk on Jeongin’s face so much than right now because you know he’s probably planning something that has to do with Kim Seungmin.

You think you can keep your anxiety at bay, that is until he starts whispering with Felix and Hyunjin and you swear that if someone opened the window right now, there’s a high chance you would make a run for it and jump and simply hope for the best.

“Don’t worry, it isn’t anything crazy! You can stop chewing on your nails.” You flush in embarrassment when the group laughs, and Ryujin runs a comforting hand down your back to make sure the attention isn’t too overwhelming for you.

“I dare you to hug Seungmin.”

“Excuse me?” You ask him to repeat his dare to you as if you hadn’t heard him. But you did. Loud and clear in fact.

The smirk on his face only grows. “I said, hug Seungmin.”

Okay, you know what, that should be simple. You sigh out in response before getting up from your seat to make your way towards where Seungmin’s situated, thankful he didn’t let you do anything as embarrassing as the others.

However, the closer you make towards where Seungmin is, wearing a top that accentuated his broad shoulders way too perfectly, and sporting a smug grin on his face, you start to think this might be the most difficult one of the night yet.

Seungmin stands in compliance to your dare, and you feel all eyes in the circle shift to the pair of you, as if anticipating it more than you.

His eyes survey you, as if to question if you were really gonna do it. And to egg you on further, he decides to open his arms wide which earns a few howls and whistles from the room. God, you hate him. You really really hate him.

And then you do it, just to get it over with, and Seungmin’s expression switches to a more taken back one. He didn’t expect you to actually push through with the dare. The longer the hug lasts, the more a ghost of a smile threatens to spill from his lips.

You have your arms wrapped around the entirety of his body, and his own resting just around your waist, and he’s crouched down a little so he can match your height better without you having to tiptoe so much.

When he presses you closer, the whole room erupts in cheers; vomiting air, nudging each other, and whistling.

Seungmin allows himself a quick glance at you, but there isn’t much to see when your face is pressed firmly against his chest. Perhaps to try and hide from the embarrassment of your friends shouting “get a room” even if you were just hugging.

He feels so warm in the air conditioned room, and it seems he didn’t have much to drink tonight when he smells more like fresh laundry and the perfume he always wears. This feels nice actually. But you would never tell him that. In fact, you have every intention of taking that observation to your grave.

When you finally notice the glances of friends and acquaintances alike around you, you pull back from the hug and immediately make your way back to your seat without another word.

You make a vow to yourself to get back at Jeongin for humiliating you like that — however, there’s a persistent voice in your head telling you that maybe you hadn’t minded that hug one bit the way you let on.

You ignore it.

four.

The sound of a shutter going off and a flash of light greets you immediately upon entering your classroom another month later.

It seems Seungmin’s found an upgraded way to annoy you (as if hiding your things wasn’t enough). With a new phone gifted to him on his birthday, he seems insistent on catching you when you’re unprepared. It makes you frustrated — as if he wasn’t enough of an irritant.

You should be used to Seungmin doing stupid things all the time, but even after months, you find that it really is a difficult task to endure. Why is he so intent on irritating you? You’re starting to seek for the answers you told yourself to stay unknown. How could you keep letting him be without knowing why he enjoys getting a rise out of you so much?

To add insult to injury, his loud voice greets you a good morning as he waves his phone around at you. You hope it falls and shatters.

Too far?

“What? Are you camera shy?” He smirks mischievously, turning to focus his camera back on you.

“At what point do you become mature?”

“Hm, not for a long time, I don’t think.” You have to remind yourself he’s provoking you for the sake of it, and you really shouldn’t be as affected as you feel right now. So, you breathe in sharply through your nose and just let him be.

When class ends, you’re quick to rant to Ryujin about Seungmin’s new discovery at getting a kick out of you.

“He won’t stop taking fucking pictures of me.” You mutter indignantly, putting all your frustration into your words.

“You know, they say you only take photos of things if you have love for the subject.”

“What are you trying to imply?”

“Just that there must be a reason why he’s so intent on having your face litter the memory of his new phone.” Ryujin smirks when your face starts to flush red at the realization of what she’s suggesting.

“Oh, shut up.” Your words don’t come out as intimidating as you want it to, and you spend the rest of the day thinking about it.

You confront Seungmin the next day, just so you can stop thinking about it. “Why are you taking so much photos of me?”

You’re already expecting that smirk on his face, and a feigned confusion. But, to your surprise, he looks genuinely surprised at your question. You’d go as far as saying he looked like a deer caught in headlights.

You’ve unknowingly caught his tongue, but he catches himself before you can catch on. With a half-assed smirk on his face, he says the best excuse that comes in his mind.

“Just so I have multiple material to use when I need to blackmail you.”

You’re appalled, and frustrated at yourself for thinking what Ryujin was hinting at might be true. You don’t even know why you were hoping in the first place. You don’t like the boy, right?

Your lips press into a straight line, and you swear your blood vessels might burst if you stare at him any longer so you storm back to your seat and ignore him for the rest of the day.

five.

There comes a point in the semester when all you’ll know is the quivering of your knees and the bloodshot red of your eyes from crying too much.

For you, it’s the result of a failed test score on a subject you studied really hard for.

You draw your knees up to press your face against them, finding solace in the quiet of the night outside. It’s early enough that you aren’t scared to walk home alone just yet.

You hear footsteps around you, but you simply drown them out in favor of focusing on washing out your frustration over yourself and that stupid test. Though, it proves a more difficult task when someone slides into the seat next to yours. When you look up, you see Seungmin staring at you. And he’s looking at you with an expression you don’t quite recognize, but equally don’t have the energy to try and deduce.

“Seungmin, I’m not really in the mood—“ He shuts you up with a handkerchief shoved in front of your face. “Why are you offering me a handkerchief?”

“Because you’re crying and seeing your stupid tears makes me upset. So wipe them away.” You stare at the handkerchief before studying his features for any hint of malice, but you see nothing but honest concern. You can’t help but feel a little touched at the uncharacteristic gesture.

“Thanks.” He hums, smiling gently down at you, and you think you’ve never seen him look this small before.

When you take the handkerchief from him, you make sure to return what looks like a trial of a smile amidst your scornful face and Seungmin is genuinely shocked you’d actually direct the closest thing to a smile at him — as if he had expected you to brush off his own and reject it.

When he shifts a little closer to where you’re seated, you surprisingly don’t feel repulsed at the distance and the way his shoulders brush against yours.

“Is it something you wanna talk about?”

The cold and quiet atmosphere of the night and the way Seungmin is looking down at you encourages you to speak, the way you never thought you would with the boy.

“Not really. Just… I’m so stupid for failing that test. And, and maybe if I studied harder than I would’ve at least gotten a more decent score.” You sigh, playing with the handkerchief as you look down in humiliation.

Seungmin scrunches his face. “It’s not your fault. We win some, we lose some. What matters is that we keep going despite the losses.”

He doesn’t snap back at you with a snarky remark like he usually would. Instead, he gives genuinely useful advice, and you think your ears could be deceiving you if he wasn’t seated directly next to you.

“Wow, I didn’t think you had it in you to say something like that.” You laugh a little, and you miss the way the tip of his ears heat in red at being able to solicit a laugh from you.

“You wound me.”

You don’t know what takes over you, but you find yourself leaning your head against his shoulder. For now, you’ll blame it on the exhaustion from crying so much earlier.

Your head against his body feels nice and comforting and warm against the biting air from the night, but you can feel him physically tense up at the contact and you almost pull your head back immediately if he hadn’t rested his head against yours.

The compromising position has Kim Seungmin in contemplation over something that’s been such a great concern in his life for the past few months, almost a year even. It had started when he met you, the first time he ever saw you and heard your voice, and the day he decided he’d spend every second thereafter trying to get your attention.

He mirrors the way you interact with your friends, and yet somewhere along the line, it had been misinterpreted into something it wasn’t and he had to live in pretense of irritating you when all he’s ever wanted was your attention. But, he thought, if this was the only way then he’d have to keep the facade up.

Besides, a little attention (even if it was with hatred) is better than none.

When Seungmin grows uncharacteristically quiet, you start to wonder what he could be thinking about and why there’s a small scrunch in his face as if he was deep in thought.

You never used to wonder what he could be thinking about. What’s changed?

“Seungmin?”

“Hm?”

“Why do you enjoy irritating me so much? Do you hate me?”

Seungmin peels his head from yours, staring down at you with a completely horrified look on his face.

“Hate you?” He feels nauseous that you could even think that, and he’s shaking his head quickly, compromising feelings he’s kept hidden for quite a while now. He’s so confounded by your statement that he gets up from his seat on the bench for a second to stare at you before calming down and returning back to his spot. “I don’t hate you. I— I could never hate you.”

You look at him, and you’re surprised to see that he’s genuinely astonished and a little upset at what you had just tried to imply.

“Then why?” You swallow down a lump in your throat, asking him in the smallest voice he’s ever heard from you. This was the perfect opportunity to ask him why, being handed to you straight on your lap, so you bite the bullet and ask.

“I actually thought we’d get along quite well when we met. And then you just started to… I don’t know.” His eyes are soft as he listens to you, lips slightly parted as if trying to think of the perfect explanation to clear your misinterpretations.

When you finish, Seungmin closes his eyes to recollect his thoughts. For a second, you think he might be coming up with an excuse to save himself but the earnest way in which he looks at you the moment he opens his eyes again quiets the voice in your head.

“I just wanted your attention.” His face visibly cringes at the sudden confession. Seungmin feels like he’s floating, looking down at his physical body that’s trying to explain himself without embarrassing himself further.

“You… what?” You blink.

He sighs out, wiping the sweat that’s gathered from his palms down his pants before tilting his head back as if trying to ask strengths from the Gods so he can admit to you whatever he’s been hiding. And then, he looks back at you and he finally confesses what he’s been keeping from you for months.

“I thought that maybe if I acted the way you did with your friends then there’d be a higher chance we’d get along. But then you misinterpreted it as hatred, and I’ve had to pretend I enjoy irritating you when all I really want to do is hold your hand.”

He squeezes his eyes shut as if afraid of your response, but all you can do is stare at him with your mouth parted.

This definitely wasn’t the response you were expecting.

“But… but it really felt like you hated me. Like— when you’d make fun of me for my food choices or that time in the library when you stayed behind to taunt me for being a lost cause.”

“You have me all wrong, (Name). When I asked you what you liked, it was an excuse so I could get it for you. Do you really think I’d accidentally buy too much dinner for Jeongin, and have the excess be exactly your favorites? And… and that night at the library. I stayed behind because I know you’re afraid to walk home late. So you would be less afraid if I walked you home.”

You meet his eyes, breath catching in your throat when you gauge the level of genuineness in his eyes.

“You— You hugged me as a dare in Chan’s party and sometimes that’s all I think about.” Seungmin falls silent after that, simply letting out a breath he feels he’s been holding for too long.

“Look, you don’t have to say anything right now. I know it’s a lot to take in.” He fiddles with the ends of the sweater he’s wearing, making sure to avoid eye contact.

“Seungmin.” The simple sound of his name from your lips has him looking at you despite trying his best not to. “I don’t know what to say.”

“That’s okay. It must be a lot to take in.”

“I thought you hated me for months and now, you’re telling me the exact opposite.” Your voice gradually quiets down, and Seungmin finds comfort when you scoot in your seat closer. “I really don’t know what to say.”

“Would it hurt to start over?” You’re greeted with his softening stare, and he bites his lips in anticipation for your response.

“I think… I think I’d like that.”

Seungmin immediately smiles, the kind of smile that’s difficult to hide even in the inky night, even if he tried.

You find yourself mirroring his own smile.

The thought of finding out the truth behind Seungmin’s actions has always scared you, but now you know you should’ve never been afraid.

Somehow, things are already starting to change, with an outstretched hand in your direction. You find yourself taking it in yours with ease.

“Hi, I’m Seungmin. It’s nice to meet you.”

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neechees · 5 months

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Hi! You don't have to answer this if you don't want to, that's totally fine! But you talking about Orville Peck's appropriation of indigenous culture with his fashion choices made me realize that I had never considered that there might be some aspects of "cowboy clothes" that white ppl shouldn't wear and that was super wrong of me. Again, you totally don't have to answer this, but I was just wondering what ways a white person could wear "cowboy clothes" in a manner that wasn't disrespectful? Or perhaps, should we not wear them at all? I can't afford T yet, but when I can finally get it I was planning on getting a cowboy outfit to embrace my trans mascness, but if that would be wrong of me I can scrap that plan no problem!

Ehhh again this is actually SUPER HARD to answer because almost everything about cowboy fashion & the cowboy "aesthetics" are lifted directly from Native American fashion and culture, either because a lot of cowboys back in the day were Native American themselves (including Afro-Natives & Indigenous Mexican vaqueros) or they were White & just kinda. stole the look from the Native cowboys due to a number of factors.

If you google "cowboy jewelry" the first thing that comes up is silverwork & belts & turquoise jewelry, which is taken from Navajo metalwork. Fringed leather clothing? Again, many Native tribes did that (& in some tribes the fringes could mean something, its not just for looks), most popularily with vests, jackets, and pants. A lot if the leather jackets were a result of Native women just sewing their clothes the same but in a European styled cut. Compare this "cowboy" look below to a Lakota war shirt: both have hair embellishments dangling from the arms.

Studded belts? Inspired by Cheyenne mirror belts, which often also have metal studs in them & you'll still see Native pow wow dancers have this in their regalia. Floral vests? A lot of the inspiration comes from Plains floral beadwork. Geometric patterns and blankets? Came from Southwest or Mexican Native American blankets & designs, ask any Navajo weaver & they'll tell you the same. Feathers in cowboy hats? Who else is famous for wearing feathers on their heads--? Native Americans. The look is still popular with older Native men.

Hell, if you visit this site that sells Western/cowboy fashion, you'll see a SHITTON of appropriation going on, taking Native imagery & designs, including one taken from Native American ledger art, all on White models.

The appropriation of Native culture and fashion in the cowboy/western sphere is ongoing, and the influence that Native fashion & culture has in Western/cowboy fashion as it is is absolutely MASSIVE. I once said in another post that the cowboy/western aesthetic essentially belongs to Native Americans, Latines (especially Mexicans), and Black people. And the history of White cowboys has been one largely of colonialism, racism, and displacement of Indigenous peoples, and the masculinity associated with White cowboys especially is also steeped into racism & American patriotism (think John Wayne. There's a reason he's an American icon who played cowboys & killing Indians in films.). I think the only thing that isn't influenced from either appropriation or colonization is like, jeans. Even the style of cowboy boots themselves and potentially chaps were influenced from vaqueros.

So if you're White I'm not sure that'd exactly be a good route to take because trying to seperate Indigenous elements from this fashion/look (nevermind the problematic history of White cowboys) is almost impossible. Obviously I can't force you to do anything, but honestly if I were you, I'd try a different direction, because otherwise I think you'll find trying to do this will be very hard.

#anonymous #history

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asmolfolk · 1 year

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Hi! Sooo, theres a tiktok video that is "Ivan, how did you bag that baddie?" and this come to my mind: Tesla, Buddha, Sasaki, Jack and Ares (separate) hcs with a s/o like that? They're like: Idk how, but she picks me up like I'm nothing. Let's just say I can imagine it, lol - Sorry for my English and kisses from Brazil <3

Oh my! A fellow brazilian! I'm also brazilian, so, kisses from the southeast part of Brazil <3 Hope you liked this one, I really loved to make this one, it was very fun!

🥀♥︎.•° Fandom: Shuumatsu no Valkyrie. Characters: Nikola Tesla, Sasaki Kojiro, Jack the Ripper, Buddha and Ares (Separate) Ask: Inspired by the video 'Ivan, how did you bag that baddie?' 🦋♥︎.•°

Nikola Tesla

"Tesla, how did you bag that baddie?" The one who asked him was his friend, Robert... And that got him... Thoughtful. Tesla looked to the side, looking directly at your direction...

He was thinking about the differences between the two of you... And the similarities too. How you react to things, how you smile, how you show affection or interess in something... He is thinking all of those things at the same time. It would be a reason to "Why he stayed", after all, he never showed any interest in love or relationships that were romantical... But seeing that you were just like a Math question... [A lot of outcomes - Needs hard work and understanding to seek the problem...] That was enough to make his mind so... Full of love and interest. Of course, he couldn't not remember how did 'he bag this baddie'... Spoiler, he didn't. He still remember the day you just looked at him and straight up said "Oh, I don't have this color yet" and just picked him up like a cat and walked with him in your arms. He would tell anyone who saw that the exact thing "I accept it for cience!" But the truth was that he just didn't care to be holded... He liked that and the fact that he could still write his notes was a plus one. Since that, both of you started to talk and later on, date... It is still a surprise to most of Tesla's friends... He can still remember the first dates... And now, you are his... Girlfriend, aren't?... He can't be happier. You respect his space and actually, you were the one to start a lot of intimacy stuff with him... You seemed to always knew when he wanted something or when he acknowledges that you want something from him, but was too tired or busy and didn't want to leave you feeling unwanted by his lack of effort... So you - seeming to read his mind - do exactly what he wanted and started to give him some words of affirmation and to be sure that he knows that it's okay to not fit into some category... Or to not want to do something like sex, PDA or others.

It seemed like a he was off for some seconds IRL while in his mind, he just saw yours love story together... When he noticed that, he knew... He knew his answer. He looked to Robert and started his monologue. "Oh, you are surely mistaken, my dear friend. I'm aware of what could give the impression for you to think like that... But!" He stands there, smilling as if he is explaining math to someone "She, indeed, picked me up and straightly putted me into a consensual relationship that I do really, extremely, like." He puts a hand over his heart, as to give emphasys to his next words "This woman has a exceptional mind and strenght... Aren't I a lucky guy? Her mind is as brilliant as mine... Of course, in Differents/Same matters... Do you understand, Robert?" Robert is lost in words, he doesn't know what to say or what to do... After all, he just saw all of his - 'Don't want to date' - friend being so deeply in love with someone... He could only chuckle as his wife carries a surprise and shocked expression. "Oh my! I'm so happy that you found someone that matches you perfectly, Tesla! And her body is so pretty too... She would look awesome in a wedding dress, don't you think so?" "Hm... Wedding? I think it's a strange concept... But if she wants one..." Tesla, even having his disagreements over weddings... He couldn't say no to you. After all... You are his everything.

Sasaki

"Kojiro Sasaki, how did a loser like you bag that baddie over there?" It was the question of his opponent... He was looking directly at your face, seeing how it changed... After all, you were in fiery! How dare them say call Sasaki a loser... And before you could start approaching to 'ora ora' this person face, Sasaki holded your hand to stop you and smiled brightly. "Well... I may be a loser in battle... But she picked me from the ground and made me her boyfriend, resuming the whole story" He told his opponent as he chuckles as he feels you pinching his cheecks a bit "Ow-Ow! Sorry, sweetheart..." He laughing a bit. "It was nothing like that. I saw him on the ground and thought he was deeply hurt, so I carry him home so I could take care of him." You said, explaining it better than Sasaki resume... Or trying to. "...Okay...? Look, I don't really care..." Sasaki's opponent tried to say that but he wasn't heard, now, Sasaki and you were discussing about this first meeting and he seemed overly in joy after hearing your version of the facts. "So... How were you capeable to hold me?" He finally asked "I mean, I'm pretty heavy-" "I carry boxes that weight more than you, Sasaki."

Jack the Ripper

"How a serial killer like you got to bag that baddie?!" That was the question of Hlökk, who was actually curious to know more about this whole relationship between the two of you... After all, nobody seemed to know about Jack's partner. "Oh my... Well, it's interesting that you asked me this... Well, may I just tell you..." He said with his british accent and sweet tone appearing, he was at your side, holding your hand while looking directly at Hlökk. "She was the one and only who got me, who actually had me on her arms... When she was carrying me around." As he said it, his other hand started patting your head "Isn't it the most romantical and sweet thing someone could ever do to their partner? Carrying them around like they weight nothing" His explanation was not meant to make you feel that proud of yourself... Or to blush like you did. But in a way or other, you could only feel how much you matter and is loved by him... He is trully a gentleman. "EWWW, YOU CLINGY OLD MAN!" Hlokk seemed to think in a different way.

Buddha

"Buddha, my deaaaar friend. How did you manage to bag this baddie?!" Said Zeus... The sluttiest god "Oh my me! You should help me get a baddie like her, I swear to you... I give you candies... Hehe" Zeus - again - couldn't hide his horny. "No." A short and straight answer coming from Buddha, who looked unimpressed by Zeus atticts "I'm not helping you cheat on your wife." as he explained that, Zeus only rolled his eyes - remembering that he is married. "Aw,come on, Buddha, my great friend... It's not like I would steal your... Partner~ I just want to know what did you do...!" "...You have some serious problems, Zeus." With that said, Buddha just moved along his way... But Zeus question was enough to make him think about... That. How did this all happened?

You just looked straight at him and picked him up, saying "This is mine." and just straight up runned away from the gods. That was enough to make him be not only proud but happy - that reunion was a really shitty one.

"Hah... It seems like the puberty made her really strong." Remembering that day, Buddha couldn't hide his smile as he made his way towards you... He WILL use you as his pillow, after all, you can pick him up.

Ares

"Not that I don't respect you, Ares... But how did you... And her got together?" Asked Aphrodite with a rather... Amused expression, she seemed to be making fun of him. "How did you just do that? How did you manage that...? Did you finally follow your daddy ways?~ Because I don't see how you couldn't do that properly... You get no bitches at all~" "She isn't a bitch or anything like what dad do with Hera! She is different, I love her... I want her, she is the only one I truly love." He said, with a confused expression. "Oh love? Now you feel that... How patheti-" She is interrupted when you just walked straight to her, looking to her eyes with a hateful rage. "What did you just say to MY partner? Do you have a fucking problem with him?" As you started to swear at Aphrodite... Ares looked at you with a little smile on the face... Finally... He finally has someone who sides with him and stands up for him...

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bella-rose29 · 27 days

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April Fool's! ~ a DTH special

here's the first of (I'm sure) many Deck the Halls specials! in honour of April Fool's Day I figured it was the perfect occasion to write a lil something about our Schmoopies (who love to prank each other)

I did take a teeny bit of inspiration from @tangledinlove's heart eyes series (which if you haven't read then go now! also I recommend everything on love's master list) and wrote this special through the eyes of Holly, George, and Lucy!

edit: I should add in now that you probably could read this as a standalone? there are some references in there that might be teeny spoilers but tbh DTH is pretty formulaic so you could figure out the plot just from the summary 😂

Warnings: one or two swear words, and I think that's it? maybe a spoiler in the form of Holly being there?

Word count: 1.7k

anthony lockwood master list

enjoy the pictures of lockwood and Cameron being silly boys!

“Where is he?”

Holly looked up from where she sat at the kitchen table writing a shopping list to study the girl who stood in the doorway. Y/n had her hands on her hips and a frown on her face, and Holly felt sorry for whoever she was looking for. No doubt it was Lockwood, having forgotten an important anniversary or something, who was provoking the glare that had settled over Y/n’s features.

“Lockwood?” Holly asked, returning her attention to the shopping list. She tapped the pencil against her temple while trying to think of what she was missing.

“Yep. Have you seen him? I’ve got a bone to pick with him, the little shit.”

Holly snorted, then a thought popped into her head. She wrote down ‘tomatoes’ in neat print with her pen. “What’s he done this time?”

The other girl huffed and moved further into the kitchen, pulling open cupboards with a little too much force. “He’s pranked me! Hid all the toothbrushes in the house and now I can’t brush my teeth!”

“I- he did what?” That was such a random thing to do, and yet it was very perfectly Lockwood. “Why would he prank you?” Holly’s colleague stopped in her tracks, arms spread open with the cupboard handles in each hand, and slowly turned around. Instead of the initial frustration that had been on her face there was now confusion.

“You… you do know what day it is… right?” Holly shook her head, brows creasing. “It’s April Fool’s Day? First of the month?” Realisation dawned, and she rushed to stifle her laugh when Y/n started glaring again. “Why is that funny? Lockwood hid all the toothbrushes, Holly! How do I brush my teeth now?! I had Weetabix this morning and my mouth feels all gross,” she complained.

“I think he went out for a walk or something,” Holly answered, finishing up her list. “That was a while ago, though, so he should be back in a minute.” No sooner than she’d stopped talking the sound of the front door opening made both girls look in the direction of the hall. Shuffling noises followed while the person moved around, then footsteps grew louder and the kitchen door was pushed open to reveal the head of the company.

Anthony Lockwood was many things: a great boss, slightly suicidal at times (although the number of occasions that he threw himself directly into danger had decreased significantly after the Christmas holidays), an excellent swordsman, and a loving boyfriend to Y/n.

But as Holly watched Y/n she knew that he was also in a lot of danger.

“Ah. Hello, Darling. Holly.” He was wary, gaze flicking between the two girls as he stayed holding on to the door handle. Y/n’s eyes narrowed, and Lockwood’s attention was suddenly solely on his girlfriend. His smile faltered slightly, and there was a split second where both he and Y/n sort of… hovered, the tension in the room palpable.

Then the chaos started.

Lockwood turned and fled the room, footsteps heavy on the stairs, and Y/n was hot on his heels, yelling as she thundered after him. Holly could hear their laughter echoing through the house, and she let out a chuckle of her own as she stood up and folded the shopping list, putting it in her pocket.

Her boss was going to suffer dearly for the rest of the morning for withholding the toothbrushes, but he wouldn’t be physically harmed.

A thump sounded on one of the upper floors, something that sounded worryingly like a body hitting the ground, and pleads of mercy followed immediately while mixed in with laughter.

She was tickling him, then. Going for the feet if she wanted maximum effect or sitting on him and going for his sides if she was smart and didn’t want him wriggling away.

Holly picked up a bag and her keys in the hallway, and made for Arif’s. Hopefully Lockwood would no longer be a hostage by the time she got back.

~~~

George Karim was normally quite forgiving when it came to Y/n, but printing out tens of pictures of Penelope Fittes was a step too far for him.

“Why do you even want to do this anyway? I thought after the whole… ‘fake-dating-turned-real-dating’ thing over Christmas you weren’t fighting anymore.” He was spread in front of the printer in his room, blocking his friend from accessing it. Since getting back from her family’s house in the middle of nowhere a few months ago, after snowstorms stretched out their Christmas, Lockwood and Y/n had been annoyingly cute and coupley.

“He hid all the toothbrushes, George. He’s having a nap right now because I tickled him into exhaustion, so I’ve not got much time before-” she broke off when George tackled her to prevent her from using the printer.

“Okay… well why does that mean you’re printing loads of pictures of Penelope Fittes? The head of the company we hate?”

“… Because I’m going to cut them out and replace all the photos in the house with them.” The pair of them stopped squirming and George pushed his glasses back up his nose to stare in shock and confusion at her.

“You… what?”

“It’s April Fool’s. I’ve got like… two hours left before midday. Please, Georgie. I have to get revenge.” He sighed, then released his grip on her.

“Fine. But when he gets annoyed, you are not linking this to me. I’m not getting dragged into all of this.”

The two of them spent the next fifteen minutes printing photos and cutting them out, and when it sounded like Lockwood was stirring, Y/n sent George to keep him distracted. He penned his boss in the library where he’d fallen asleep earlier, spewing facts about the next case they were going to go on to keep Lockwood there while Y/n snuck around the house. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been waffling on about murder victims and Type 2s, but when Lockwood’s girlfriend tentatively peeked around the door he had to stop himself from visibly sighing in relief.

“You alright, Schmoopie?” Where the nickname had come from, George had no idea, but Y/n was the only one who used it and specifically only when she wanted to piss off Lockwood. Lockwood himself knew this too, and George could immediately see the suspicion creep in.

“… yeah. Are you?”

“Hm? Oh, yep!” Her grin was wide, and looked rather like a shark, and George wondered why Lockwood was staring all heart-eyed at her despite being suspicious. “Just been… finding toothbrushes.” It was Lockwood’s turn to smile now, boyish delight making him perk up.

“Get any?”

“Eventually. Took me a bloody long time though,” she mumbled the last part, but the boys still heard. George snickered. Lockwood’s smile grew. “Anyway… tea?”

“Alright then,” Lockwood replied, stretching out a hand and moving over to the doorway. Y/n took it, planting a kiss on her boyfriend’s cheek before pulling him out the room.

She sent a wink over her shoulder at George as they turned the corner and disappeared.

~~~

So far, the pranks were one each.

Lucy had noticed Y/n putting photos of Penelope Fittes in all the picture frames around 35 Portland Row, and when her friend had explained why, she had gladly joined in. Any opportunity to mess with Lockwood was an opportunity that Lucy took.

Around half an hour after Lockwood had reappeared from the library, he still hadn’t noticed that all of the photos had been replaced. He’d spotted one or two maybe, but that was it. Some were more sneaky than others, and Lucy knew that Lockwood would be finding Penelope Fittes photos for weeks after today.

Now she was sat in the living room with George, Holly, and Y/n, sketching in her pad. There was near silence in the room, the clock ticking and what sounded like suppressed snorts of laughter outside the door the only noises. Lucy frowned, glancing at the door every few seconds. After another minute or so of stifled laughter Lockwood appeared, mouth pinched to hide the smile on his face as he walked in and sat on the arm of his normal armchair where Y/n was sat.

“…Lockwood?” Lucy asked. “Why are you wearing a hat? You’re… indoors?”

“Oh! Just felt like it! Thought it would be nice to wear something a little more fun. For morale, you know?”

Y/n looked up then, and gaped at the top hat perched on her boyfriend’s head. “You’re ridiculous, Anthony.”

“Yep. We’ve had this conversation before, Darling.” All talk died down after that, Lockwood occasionally murmuring a word or two to help Y/n with her crossword, and the members of the agency were at peace. At some point Lockwood excused himself to the toilet, and when he came back around five minutes later (they’d all heard the toilet flush) there was something slightly off about him. He still had the top hat on, but something was bugging Lucy.

The same process repeated, Lucy looking up at him every now and then to try and figure out what was different and Y/n doing the same (the two girls had shared multiple confused looks), and then Lockwood excused himself to get a plate of biscuits. When he came back, Lucy once again felt something was off. The biscuits were passed around, crossword helped, top hat still in place, then Lockwood came up with another reason to leave the room.

It was the fourth time he returned that Y/n appeared to realise what was happening. “Ohh, I see what you’re doing, Anthony Lockwood.”

“Do you?” he asked, innocent as a child. “I’ve noticed the photographs - don’t think I haven’t.”

“Oh, have fun finding them all. Why do you have multiple sizes of the same top hat?”

Lockwood shrugged. “Disguises. Why did you have so many photos of the head of the Fittes company?”

“Does it matter? You’ll be finding them for weeks.”

They finished their friendly bickering in hushed tones, Y/n standing up to let Lockwood sit down and balance her on his lap, and Lucy smiled softly at them.

After wrangling the whole story of what had happened over the Christmas holidays out of the two of them, Lucy had spent roughly the last two and a half months teasing the living daylights out of the couple for their antics, but she couldn’t deny how cute they were together.

She just hoped that the current poking in the sides they were doing didn’t turn into decking each other instead.

Cut scene (alternative prank):

Now she was sat in her room in the attic, one leg hanging off the edge with the other folded underneath while she drew in her sketchbook. The creaking of the steps up to her floor alerted her to someone’s presence, and after a few seconds Lockwood’s head appeared, followed by his body. “Ah, Luce, thought I’d find you here.” He had something in his hand, shiny in a crinkly plastic bag. “I need your help to-” he broke off, mid-movement while he peered at one of the pictures on Lucy’s bedside table. It was of the five of them, Lockwood, George, Holly, Y/n, and herself, except in the place of Skull sat on the sideboard was Penelope Fittes’ face. “Oh for fuck’s sake. Did she put some of these up here, too?” Lucy struggled not to smile.

“Must have done it when I was in the kitchen earlier.” That was a lie, Lucy had done it herself. “What did you need me for?”

“Ah!” He lifted the plastic bag and grinned. “Doubloons. Not real ones, obviously, I bought them from a cheap party shop down the road. I’m going to hide them around the house.”

Tag list:

@strawberryloveyyy, @chameleon021, @genderfluid-anime-goth, @cottagecore-babe, @anthonylockwoodandco111, @a-taken-url, @ahead-fullofdreams, @aislinrayne, @anathemaloren, @anthgoldenhrry, @augustisintheair, @aysha4life, @briar-rose23, @curseofhecate, @dangelnleif, @edible-rat-vomit, @el-de-phi, @ell0ra-br3kk3r, @ettadear, @fearlessmoony, @fudosl, @idkbubs, @imaginebeingmentallystable, @informedimagining, @karensirkobabes, @lady-ashfade, @light-23, @locklyebrainrot, @locklyle1kanij, @locknco, @magicandrosewaters, @mentallyillsodapop, @mischivana, @mitskiswift99, @mrsklockwood, @mrsyixingunicorn10, @newbooksmell777, @no-morning-glories, @novelizt, @phlooper, @ran23sblog, @reggiepeterss, @simrah1012, @somethingrandomwatzit, @star-of-velaris, @superpositvecloudshipper, @t2sh0, @taygrls, @tournesol77, @whistle1whistle, @whenselenefallsinlove, @wordsarelife, @y0urm0m12, @zoom1374, @asyouwish-fromcabin3, @rhysand-devorak, @a-candle-maker, @h0lyheck, @apple-bottom-jeans6, @icantwaittoliveandlearn

@neewtmas, @bobbys-not-that-small, @avdiobliss, @demigoddess-of-ghosts, @maraschinomerry, @lewkwoodnco, @uku-lelevillain, @oblivious-idiot

as always, if there is anybody who wants to be added to my lockwood tag list, then please go here!

#deck the halls (and not your partner)#deck the halls specials #lockwood and co #lockwood & co #anthony lockwood #anthony lockwood x reader #lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood x you

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radioactive-earthshine · 2 months

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Hi. I really enjoy your analysis and I was wondering if you could explain why Wally is so mean to Bart? Maybe mean is too strong but as you read Impulse it gets hard to read sometimes because it comes off as just bullying and not just 90s sitcom teasing.

Hello!

The most direct answer for why Wally is the way he is with Bart is simultaneously simple and complex with nuance that any reader of Wally's run should have been able to catch onto pretty easily.

And no, the answer isn't just "he's a jerk" even though yes, he is a jerk (Bart is too) but there's more to it.

1.) He was a little incredibly jealous of Don and Dawn for existing and he felt like their existence threatened his status with his Uncle Barry. We all know blood =/= family in this circle, but to Wally it meant MORE to him.

It's also important to note that Wally and Barry's relationship is unique in the greater examples of DC as Wally refers to Barry thoroughly as his uncle, and their tether together was through marriage (Iris). Even so, Wally was as close to Barry as a son, and the feelings they had were mutual. Wally was not just assigning himself a position within Barry's life erroneously, he is family. Period.

The Flash (1987) #109

Wally knows that Barry had kids (Iris told him and Bart had to come from somewhere) but when Jenni shows up we finally see his true introspection and rumbling thoughts about the situation of them - that he is jealous of them even though he's learned that Barry dies when they are young and didn't even get to have a relationship with him.

The Flash (1987) #114

Later, Wally finally gets to meet Don and Dawn in the future and things are tense between all of them at first. Wally is self conscious of his thoughts concerning them, that he is jealous, and there is some mutual jealousy between all three because the Tornado Twins, while Barry's children, grew up without him when Wally did.

Wally got to have a father/child relationship with Barry and they didn't.

The Flash (1987) #114

The Twins let this go and Wally does partially but there are other instances where Wally persists there is a rivalry between them later. For Wally the biodetermination is very much a part of his insecurities in this situation.

(also this is a side note they are not the catalyst or inspiration to the Legion of Super-Heroes but they do need to die to make way for a future to have it, Wally doesn't know this and probably just assumes they were)

The Flash (1987) #148

Wally continues to be jealous but he's emotionally intelligent enough to know it's not appropriate. It never was, now or otherwise.

So Wally's jealously and deep desire to be as close to Barry as possible manifested in some redirected tension onto Bart who is blood related to Barry.

2.) Bart reminds him of himself when he was kid, and he is ashamed of how he was.

This point is something Wally admits directly as a reason why he is so short with him.

The Flash (1987) #92

It's also extremely necessary to remember that Wally grew up with Rudy West as a father who was verbally, emotionally and physically abusive. This is where we get meta about Wally and this is more speculation because we don't have Wally on panel saying this but; Bart reminding him of himself as a kid very easily could remind Wally of that house, that relationship, that abuse and it sets him on edge. This is something that is common among trauma survivors.

3.) Wally is young, insecure, traumatized, stressed, and Bart is a lot.

Wally here is in his early 20s, and while he was shown to be in therapy in a previous issue, he still has years of trauma built up to deal with - and not all of it is due to being raised in an incredibly abusive household with Rudy West.

When Wally gets stressed, he lashes out and gets short, Bart in particular in his introductory comics stressed him out on top of the stress he was already experiencing with Kobra.

Bart in his earlier comics was utterly feral - his own high energy and inability to distinguish between fantasy and reality led to some stressful situations between him and Wally. Wally is just not equipped with the tools to deal with Bart, mostly PATIENCE, so it led to mutual aggravation.

Bart pushes, Wally pushes, Bart pushes back and it's a pretty solid circle between them.

4.) He is in fact a jerk, and it's the result of the sum of his trauma and personality. Regardless of his status as a hero, regardless that Bart and him do have good moments.

The later issues of Impulse show this very clearly.

Impulse (1995) #82

Some people prefer to interpret Wally and Bart's relationship as sibling-like where the older sibling teases the younger one - and if you do prefer this relationship between them there is nothing stopping you from doing so, but there is more nuance behind Wally's shortness with Bart and it makes him 1000% more interesting of a character.

Impulse (1995) #84

Bart calls Wally out on his behavior in one of the last few issues of his series where it ties everything together with their relationship - Bart identifies that Wally's past is what drives him to behave the ways he does with him, and it is bringing up the past and reminding Wally that he is being a scroach that he finally talks to Bart.

It was a major step in their relationship, but unfortunately, as any Bart reader knows, it did not stay this good because of the next point.

5.) Conflicting personalities add more depth to stories and generally make a story better. Bart having a grating personality and a tough relationship with the current Flash of the time was the story the writers WANTED to tell and keep intact well into Teen Titans.

Wally doesn't KNOW Bart, not really, and he never really learns enough about him due to his chronic absences in his life - so he never got to SEE him in any real depth other than during the brief moments their comics intersected. He only sees him the way he thinks he is, not the way he ACTUALLY is.

Teen Titans (2003) #1

stfu wally

Having a beloved hero figure in a story simply not believe in one of the protagonists offers a growth subplot for the writer to focus on. Unfortunately, for Bart and Wally, it was a subplot that lasted a very very long time. This conflict between them could have ended with Impulse #84 but Geoff didn't want it to, so it didn't.

So that's the general reason why Wally is the way he is. He's not a villain to Bart and they DO get along plenty of times - but at the end of the day he was also a jerk to him (Max was too but we're not getting into that right now).

#bart allen #wally west

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everythingacotarbxm1012 · 4 months

Text

They're Mates

Summary - Feyre meets Rhys's Inner Circle and witnesses the strength of the mating bond.

Warnings - abusive family mentioned

Other Notes - 1k words; Please note that most of these lines/plot points are inspired or directly quoted from ACOMAF; I gave reader the name 'Vee' because I know y/n can be obnoxious and i also think it adds to the Az x Reader story.

Part Two

✨💫

Feyre looked up to see the same two males from earlier standing in the doorway, grinning, and a new presence. A beautiful female with wings like the others. She wore a deep blue gown that reached the floor––her hair resting over both her shoulders. The two males wore black leather with a sword strapped against their backs. Feyre noted the power each of them seemed to hold.

The male who was a bit large than the other, spoke up with a light chuckle. “We don’t bite. Unless you ask to us to Feyre.”

“No secrets in front of our guest, Az,” Cassian said with a grin.

The second male was more classically beautiful, though hard to read. He was certainly the one who would be a surprise in the dark, the hidden knife. Feyre noticed the light sparkle in his anytime he looked at the female to his left. It piqued a curiosity in Feyre.

Rhys said, “Azriel––my spymaster,” indicating the one in the middle. He then indicated the female. “Vee. An emissary for the Night Court.” A name, Feyre later learned, Az had adopted for the emissary after she declared she did not want the name her abusive family had given her.

“You’re brothers?” Feyre asked. The two males before her looked similar. The kind of similar where people who come from the same place do, not familial similar.

“All bastards are brothers in some sense,” Rhys responded, sticking his hands in his pockets.

Before Feyre could ask Cassian said, “And I command Rhys’s armies.”

Feyre was giving more attention to not being recognized as the girl Under the Mountain. She wondered, for just a moment if they knew––maybe they didn’t. That was quickly answered when Cassian nudged past the Night Court’s spymaster requiring Az to flare his wings to keep himself balanced. Feyre watched Vee’s hand fall to Azriel’s lower back to assist. Feyre noticed the fleeting moment of eye contact between the spymaster and the emissary, but it quickly became a second thought as Cassian asked his question about how Feyre had made the bone ladder in the Middengard Wyrm’s lair, when as he put it, “you looked like your own bones could snap at any moment.”

Vee shot Cassian another pointed gaze, but it turned into a grin after Feyre made a sarcastic comment of her own. The general laughed and Azriel’s eyebrow lifted with approval as the shadows swirled around him, tighter. Feyre’s need to understand the gift only furthered when the shadows swirled up and around Vee’ wrist playfully, before weaving around the ends of her hair.

Her curiosity once again was pushed to the side when Feyre heard, thankfully, a familiar voice…Mor. “I hope Cassian’s howling means Feyre told him to shut his fat mouth.”

Vee quickly whispered something into Az’s ear, his shadows lightened slightly from around him. Feyre’s curiosity about the nature of their relationship increasing.

“I wanted to impress Feyre. You could have tried to make an effort to comb your hair,” Mor responded.

“Yes,” Mor said, tossing her hair over her shoulder, “since swaggering around––”

“We have company,” Azriel said in a soft warning, spreading his wings as he tried to herd everyone.

“Relax, Az,” Mor said as she dodged the spymaster’s outstretched wing. “We won’t fight. We promised Rhys.”

Feyre barely noticed Az stop in his tracks, letting out the smallest of huff and his shadows seem to become thicker. She then watched as Vee took one of Az’s hands in her own, gently pressing her lips to the back of it. His shadows lightened around him. Apparently the question about their relationship reached Feyre’s face because Rhys leaned down slightly to say, “They’re mates. Azriel and Vee. They’ve known each other a little over 500 years and been mates just under 500.”

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softspaceboibrian · 11 months

Text

Fell in Love with the Fire Long Ago || Jamie Tartt

Prologue

Pairing: Jamie Tartt x Y/N - Social Media Manager for AFC Richmond || I used she/her pronouns, but there is no actual physical description, so the pronouns can be switched with whatever anyone wants or prefers!

Summary: The first meeting.

Warnings: maybe some swear words? a lot of anxiety. I think that's it

Wc: 3593

A/N: this story is based on this idea . as always, if you want to read more, feel free to leave a comment. If you wish to be added to the taglist, let me know! anyways, thanks for reading! ALSO I'm making a playlist for this fic inspired by the chapters! let me know if you would like me to post it!

Taglist: @nicklet94 @respondingtoshowerthoughts-blog @katdahlali @sonyume @kerguelenn @janalustare @thebarisinhell99 @dancemajor1 @f1maverick @shakespeareanwannabe

The team had eventually gone to the pitch to train, while you had stayed behind. You inhaled deeply. For the moment, you were safe. You had managed to slip away and into your office unnoticed. However, after a few minutes of sitting alone in the room with your laptop’s screen casting a gentle blue light over the documents in front of you, you couldn’t ignore the unsettling sensation that anxiety was leaving in your stomach, as if a hand from within was gripping and squeezing all of your organs, tugging ever so slightly at your heart and making it drop whenever you heard muffled footsteps down the corridor, approaching, passing by, then moving away. I can’t take it anymore, you said under your breath, as if you were talking to someone that wasn’t there. Quickly, you gathered your stuff and made your way down to the coaches’ room. Was it the best place to hide? Obviously not! The room was directly connected with the team’s changing room. Still, the corridor on the ground floor wasn’t carpeted, and you could much more easily control the situation from there. Also, despite being still angry at Ted, you knew that the coaches, all three of them, would do anything just to know you were comfortable. And so, you settle down in the spare chair on the opposite side of the room from Nate’s desk. That was going to be your office for the day. You nodded, as you displayed all your documents and stationary carefully, with order, on the desk in front of you.

You looked around the room as you waited for your laptop to come back to life. You didn’t exactly love the charcoal walls with the AFC Richmond logo right in the middle of it. You often wished they would let you redecorate the space, but everyone was too afraid you would choose a wallpaper similar to the forest green one in your office. You would laugh. You were spending most of your days in your office, anyways. Except for that day. So, grey walls would have to do.

A ding sound brought you back to reality.

You immediately directed your attention to the screen in front of you and opened the notification. It was an email conversation between Rebecca, Keeley, Higgins, and you. The title: TARTT’S COMEBACK ANNOUNCEMENT. All capital letters, as if that was the most urgent thing in the world. You opened it and read through the messages. Rebecca was asking when the announcement was going to be put on the team’s accounts, because she thought it was important to do it as soon as possible. The sooner, the better, read her email, the sentence in italics, as to attract more attention. You could feel that nauseating sensation slowly remerging. You took a deep breath before moving to the next message. It was from Keeley, and she said that it would be better to just wait a while. Ted has decided to put him on the second team for now, she said was the reason she thought we should wait. But let’s hear from Y/N first, she’s the expert. The corners of your mouth turning slightly upwards, as you felt Keeley’s preoccupation and affection for you disguised beneath those words. No answer from Higgins yet. The decision was yours. You were the social media manager. You set the rules when it came to these things. That gave you a bit of relief. You clicked the Reply to all button, and started typing.

Dear all, [you always wrote that, even though it was just the four of you and there was no reason for you to be so formal.] if you want my personal opinion, I think we should kick him off the team. [You weren’t exactly sure why you were so angry. Because, in reality, you weren’t. You were sad, disappointed, but not angry. Maybe it was easier to be angry than to be sad.] On the other hand, if you want my professional opinion, then I say we wait. If it’s true that Ted has put him on second team, then there is no need to announce it just yet. It would be misleading for the fans who would then expect to see him out on the pitch already in the next match. I say we wait and, when the time comes and Ted puts him in, then I’ll take his picture while he’s playing with the team, and we’ll announce it that way.

You clicked Send. You waited. Two minutes went by. No answer yet. You could already picture Rebecca stomping down the corridor to come and talk to you, saying that she had to make the calls - not true: you were in charge of the socials, you decided. Plus, you knew that Rebecca would understand your point of view. Or at least you hoped.

Five more minutes went by. A ding. Message from Leslie Higgins, Head of Football: I agree with Y/N. You smiled. Three minutes later, another ding. Message from Keeley Jones: I second that. You inhaled deeply. You could feel a weight lift off your chest. For now, you were safe.

After scrolling on Instagram for a good ten minutes, stalking other teams profiles to get inspiration, you actually started working. You weren’t sure how, but you had managed to get so focused on what you were doing, that you got startled when the distant murmurs of the boys coming back to the changing room for lunch break eventually reached you. You looked up from your iPad, where you had been sketching the new social media campaign, only to realise that an hour and a half had gone by without you even noticing. You looked around, panicking, trying to get your mind to slow down and think of an escape plan. But when you finally settled on leaving everything there and running outside to the parking lot, the soft murmurs had become clear voices only a few meters away. You were stuck there, with nowhere to run.

So, you stayed there, paralysed in that chair, until the coaches walked in. You could tell they were not expecting to find you in there. Ted looked at you, quietly, and you knew he wanted to say something, but you never met his eyes, hoping that would be a clear enough sign to him to just leave you be. You knew you had no reason to be angry at him nor at Rebecca, but it was the easiest way to get your frustration out. And Ted himself knew that what had happened that morning wasn’t truly directed at him, that you weren’t actually mad at him. So, as he walked by, he offered you a kind smile, one that said I’m sorry. But you just couldn’t bring yourself to reply.

Beard, on the other hand, laid a hand on your shoulder as he walked by, giving it a quick squeeze, before going to take his place at his desk. Somehow, somewhere down the line, Beard had become a sort of father figure for you, the type of bond that you can only share with certain people: the quiet looks, the silent nods, quick side hugs, hands on the shoulder or the arm as a reassuring sign. And you actually loved this subtle relationship that you two had. Most people would think that neither of you wanted to have nothing to do with the other, but that was far from the truth. You had bonded over your shared passion for reading, even though you mainly read narrative books, while he generally went for autobiographies and inspirational books. However, what truly brought you closer was the fact that, despite being half his age and being born in a different country, having grown up to different music and films, you were still able to understand 80% of his pop references, and more importantly, were always asking him curiously to explain the remaining 20%.

You gave him a quick smile, before turning around and meeting Nate’s gaze. “Moved in for the day?” He asked with his newly found confidence.

A quick nod. “Yep.” You replied, popping the p.

“Still thinking about renovating this place?” He asked jokingly.

“Always.” Your subtle smile told him that, as much as you enjoyed talking with him, that wasn’t the best moment for you.

“D’you want me to go and get Sam for you?” He asked, already making his way towards the door. “I promise I’ll be discreet.” He smiled a kind and comforting smile. You nodded as the memory of him walking in on you and Jamie in the boot room came resurfaced in your head. How is this the same person you wondered.

A few moments later, Sam walked into the office, already changed in his normal clothes. “We’re going for kebabs.” He told you, the invitation implicit in the way he spoke the words.

You didn’t say anything. You just stood up and grabbed your bag, before following him into the corridor. Isaac, Colin, Dani, and a few others were standing right outside the door, almost creating a sort of barrier between the exit and the door to the changing room. You looked at them, a soft smile forming on your lips. But in your head, all you could hear was you brain telling you stop being so dramatic, he’s just a boy. And you knew your head was right, but your heart still ached at the idea of seeing him back.

You eventually started walking down the corridor, linking arms with Sam on one side, Colin on the other, as Richard told everyone that one day you all had to allow him to take you to this new French winery that had just opened in Chelsea. A night on the town, he said with his strong French cadence, it would be fun! And you rejoiced in seeing him so passionate about something. You had grown to love seeing the team being truly happy about things, about life. A nostalgic feeling, maybe, because it reminded you about how excited you used to get when Jamie used to make reservations for the two of you at those posh little restaurants that you would have only been able to admire from outside where it not for him. Let me spoil you, babe, he used to say. You missed that, the thrill, the enthusiasm, the looking forward to those kinds of things. But you pushed the thought aside, focusing on what the conversation had just moved to.

You had almost made it out the door, when a voice echoed down the corridor, bouncing off the walls until it reached your ears. “Y/N!” You would be able to recognise that thick Mancunian accent everywhere. You looked slowly at the men in front of you as you took a deep breath, gathering all of your strength, Then, you turned around, finally meeting his eyes. Oh, how you had dreaded that moment. You had imagined it several times in the private of your own house. The doorbell would ring, and you would go open the door. He would be standing outside, hood on his head, his hair – which were now longer – falling in front of his face, in an attempt to cover his puffy red eyes. It was all a mistake, he would say, almost choking on his words. I shouldn’t’ve left. I should’ve never broken up with you. You’re the love of me life. You would stay silent, letting him do the talking. He would tell you how miserable life was without you. He would tell you that, without you, life was pointless, all black and white. And when he would eventually look at you, his eyes would be filled with tears. And you would drag him in, grabbing him by the collar of his hoodie and pulling him to you, kissing him so passionately that he would need to press you against the wall to hold you up. You would kiss, you would make love, and then, naked in your bed, you would talk, for hours. But that wasn’t real life. That only happened in rom-coms. Real life was there, in front of you. And he wasn’t wearing his hoodie, he didn’t have puffy eyes. He looked fine.

You said nothing. You looked at him, you held his gaze, but said nothing. “Hey.” He said softly, in a warm familiar tone that, with the gentle smile he offered you, immediately brought back that burning sensation in the pit of your stomach. You could feel your heart beating, thumping in your ears. You nodded in return, the word stuck in your throat. You said nothing. “Can we talk?” He asked, hope plain on his face. You had almost forgotten that kind voice he usually used when talking with you, when he knew you were feeling uncomfortable, restless, nervous, when he could tell that something was disturbing you, and he wanted to make you feel better.

A part of you wanted to just run to him, immediately melting in his embrace, as he pressed his lips against your forehead. You wanted him to comfort you, to hold you, to rock you, as you finally took in his smell, one that you had loved so much, but had now forgotten. But another part, the sad part, the disappointed one, the one that couldn’t seem to forget how he had treated you in the last few days of your relationship, the words he had used, the coldness, that part stopped you from doing anything. So, you didn’t move. You stood there, surrounded by the people that had actually been there for you. “No, I’m sorry.” You replied flatly.

“I just-” He started to speak, and deep down in your heart you wanted him to talk, to say what was on his mind. You wanted to know if he was sad, if he regretted it.

But Isaac cut him off, putting himself between you and him. “She said no.”

You watched as his expression changed, as the hope on his face was slowly replaced by pain. “I understand.” He said. “I respect that.” You knew him well enough to notice the shift in his voice, the watery words that slowly left his lips. “Another time, maybe.” He added, his eyes lingering on your figure for a few moments, before turning around.

You stood there, frozen in the middle of the corridor, biting the inside of your cheek, as you watched his shoulders drop with disappointment. You had never seen him like that, and it hurt you. For a moment you thought of saying something, of calling him back, but as you tried to find the right words, his sulking figure turned right and retreated into the changing room.

Your eyes remained fixed on where his figure was a few moments before disappearing. As guilt and grief washed over you like a tidal wave, you almost forgot about the people next to you.

“That was very brave.” Sam’s voice brought you back to reality. You nodded still unable to look away, still hoping he would come back out.

“Sì!” Dani agreed. “Muy valiente!” and you could tell he was actually proud of you. They all were. In their heads, you had handled it greatly. But you hadn’t. And you hated the sensation it left in you.

Eventually, you all made your way outside, deciding to walk to the kebab place instead of driving. Fresh air is good for us, Jan Maas stated in his Dutch manner. But you knew that it was all a ruse, a way to get your head off what had just happened. They were all terrible liars.

As you got to the place, you settled in a booth, adding a few chairs so that you could all eat together at the same table. The boys immediately slipped into their usual topics for whenever they were out eating: the upcoming match; the last episode of that new action tv show that they had decided to watch together; making plans to go to the movies to watch the new Bond movie – planes that were never met due to matches and practice; someone’s latest match on Bantr; where to have the next family dinner – that was how they called the biweekly dinner the team had together. You nodded along, but your head was someplace else. You could have let him tag along, you told yourself. He’s probably eating lunch alone. You hated the idea of having abandoned him. And as the food finally arrived at your table, you felt the hunger in your stomach being replaced by sadness.

“Aren’t you going to eat?” Isaac asked between bites, noticing you hadn’t yet touched your wrap.

You quickly glanced around the table, feeling everyone’s eyes on you. “I can’t stop thinking about him.” You whispered. “We could have invited him. It wouldn’t have hurt anyone.” You said, tears instantly pooling at the corners of your eyes. Breathing had suddenly become more difficult, and you felt trapped in the middle of the bench, stuck between Colin and Sam.

“You have to give yourself time.” Sam put down his food, turning slightly towards you. “If you feel like you-”

But you cut him off. “I’m not talking about me. I’m talking about him. About how you all took my side, which I truly appreciate. But now he has no one there.” You started rambling, saying how you felt terrible because it was your fault, because you shouldn’t have gotten them that involved.

“Listen, Y/N, we understand your point. But he mistreated us as well.” Colin stopped your train of thoughts. “Don’t know if you remember, but he called me a jaundiced worm.” You met his eyes. “None of us is going to hate him forever. Pretty sure no one actually hates him. But we’re mad at him. He disrespected us. Yes, we took your side, but it was also our own side, okay? So, stop blaming yourself because it’s not your fault.” There was a small pause. “We just want him to realise what he did wrong, an apologise would be great. But I promise, no one is going to treat him like he treated us.” His voice was sincere, which in a way lifted a weight off your chest.

Half an hour later you were all back at the clubhouse, and the boys immediately ran to the changing room. You smiled at them, before entering the coaches’ room and taking your seat at the desk you had claimed as yours for the day. Post-lunch drowsiness washing over you, you decide to wait for the team to go out to the pitch before resuming your work. You picked up your phone and immediately opened Instagram. You hated how addicted you had gotten to social media, especially since you spent most of your days on it for work. But still, you couldn’t help it. You scrolled mindlessly down your feed, leaving the occasional like on puppy pics, videos of animals and of your favourite celebrities – Harry Styles, Hozier, Phoebe Waller-Bridge. You read the usual inspirational quote from one of those pages that you always end up following after a breakup, those that always provide you with the most appropriate sentences to write down on a sticky note, which you would then put on your fridge or on your desk at work, as a reminder of some sort. “You need to fall in love with yourself first”. Bullshit, you had thought, as the pen traced the words on that square piece of yellow paper a few months prior, before putting it on the mirror in your bedroom. It was still there.

“It’s one of the greatest gifts you can give yourself to forgive. Forgive everybody.” That’s what read the latest post. Damn you, Maya Angelou, you whispered, as you wrote down the quote on a new sticky note.

You stared at the piece of paper for a while, reading the words over and over. Then, somehow, your phone was back in your hands. On the screen, a chat. At the top, the name read “J” followed by a white heart. You had thought about changing it. But you never did.

Before you knew, your fingers were already typing away.

I don’t hate you.

You hit send.

I just need a little more time.

Send.

Not even five seconds later, the word Read appeared beneath the two bubbles.

Three little dots. He’s typing.

The little dots go away. Then they reappear. Then, they’re gone once again.

You locked your phone and put it down on the desk in front of you.

You could still clearly hear the team talking in the other room. The coaches were still talking in their room. He had time. He could still reply.

You stood up from your chair. Maybe I shouldn’t have messaged him, you thought as you paced the room, glancing at your phone every now and then, wondering why he hadn’t yet replied. You could feel Ted’s eyes on you, and you knew he wanted to come to you, ask you if everything was alright. But you were glad he didn’t.

You kept pacing, your steps measing the length of the room, the distance between the two desks.

Then, a notification.

You immediately ran to your phone.

I know, and I understand. Take all the time you need.

You felt that all too familiar itchy feeling of tears pooling at the corners of your eyes.

The three little dots appeared once more. You stared at the screen.

I’ll wait for you.

A/N: once again, thank you for reading <3

#jamie tartt #jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt fic #ted lasso #ted lasso fic #softspaceboibrian writings

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reversal-au-asks · 28 days

Text

ASK KASPER AND LAMPERT FROM REVERSAL ANYTHING YOU’D LIKE!

The rules, regulations and information for this ask blog are listed below.

above is the logo for this AU. Ask before using!

A bit of background before we get into rules and all of that,

This ask blog is for the Reversal AU. If you don’t know what that is or you’ve never seen it before, please look at this website for more information, or read below!

THE STORY:

Reversal (or Reversal Au) is an alternate universe inspired by Regretevator and SCP-3008, and it follows the characters Kasper and Lampert. But, instead of Kasper becoming the infected one who forgets his best friend, the roles are reversed. Essentially, Lampert becomes the one who forgets his best friend instead. So, this entire story and universe is centered around that and how the two acted back then versus now.

How did he forget?

Lampert, unfortunately, forgot his best friend, Kasper, because he was brainwashed. He was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and was almost killed before the employees of SCP-3008 realized that his abilities could be useful.

So, instead of leaving him to die, they took him and brainwashed him to use him as a valuable asset for their ever growing hive mind army, in hopes that they can one day be able to possibly achieve more than what they currently have now.

(please view the website that I also linked above for all of the links to the creators who inspired this AU!)

RULES/BEFORE YOU ASK..

This ask blog is ran and created by one person. ( @n3ptun1cal , they/them or ask!) With that being said, please be patient when it comes to possible slow response times or anything of that sort. This is a one man project!

You are welcome to ask the author things and/or you are able to ask Kasper 🎮 and Lampert 🛋️ things directly as well! Out of character responses, or responses from the author, will be tagged accordingly with “ooc response” beforehand to make it less confusing. Also, please specify who you’re directing your question(s) towards! For example, putting “for Lampert-” or “for Kasper-” at the beginning of your asks, (you can even ask both of them if you’d like) Specifying these things helps me know who to draw responding to the ask though so it’s really helpful!!

This story is dependent on the audience to find out and piece together themselves. There’s so much more you are all able to find out just through asks! You never know what things you might uncover with just a simple ask..

Do NOT ask or say anything suggestive or sexual about these two. They are both aroace, and the owner of this blog is aroace as well. Please respect that!

This AU is not a ship, at all. They will never love each other, they were just really close friends who even could be considered brothers.

I have the right to delete any ask or refuse to answer any ask that I may deem against the listed rules and regulations, and I have the right to block anyone who makes me uncomfortable. Please contact me directly and privately if you have any issues!

Please ask questions in our inbox on this blog only, questions in the comments will most likely not receive answers!

All ask blog posts will use the #reversalasks tag.

THE CURRENT DESIGNS FOR REVERSAL KASPER AND LAMPERT:

#reversalasks #infected regretevator #kasper regretevator #regretevator fanart #regretevator #Roblox #alternate universe #regretevator art #regretevator asks #ask blog

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the-fandom-is-now-my-life · 1 year

Text

Universal language

Or incidents that make kaveh think and fully believe that his landlord/friend is dating the new translator

Wc: 1,2k

Cw: kaveh thinks reader and al-haitham have sex but their interactions are taken out of context

Notes : I wasn't thinking of doing a second part part but whatever sjsjjs

Got inspired by @alezayku

First proof. Why would you call him lovey dovey names if you two weren't dating? He has called al-haitham stingy and mean but calling him honey bunny?

Kaveh was about to lose his head, he is sure that his friend/landlord was dating the new language scholar that came from mondstrat, he had very few proofs but he didn't have any doubts

Al-haitham sits next to you and is showing you a page in a book

" There seems to be a usage of these terms in certain casual literature found in the records, most of them are usually referring to people. If you can identify their meanings it would be helpful" he lends you the book and sits up walking to the kitchen "I'm going to serve myself tea. Do you want?"

Pointing towards 'Cielo ' you start " well, this one directly means sky, but you couldn't say it's like saying ' you are my whole sky'"

Grabbing the book you look to his direction " Oh, i would love some of the tea you were drinking a few days ago" now looking down to the page he marked you scan the words " oh, these are endearment terms"

You see Al-haitham pour a jar of cold tea in two clay cups " oh? I wouldn't have guessed that there were such things in the holy language" he brings the two cups to the table and grabs a piece of paper and a pencil " what would be their meanings

And carefully Al-haitham writes down your words and you keep translating each one

Amor means love

Querido means dear or dearest

Dulzura is close to saying sweetie

And so on

Neither of you notice the sound if the wooden planks give under kaveh's weight but he does notice you two in the living room, creeping near the edge of the arch separating the hallway and the living room he listens carefully, trying to make up for the poor angle that only let him see the big plant al-haitham bought

Lying your finger next to the word 'Conejito' you drink a sip of the tea to soothe your throat that was already pretty dry from talking so much "honey bunny. I don't know how you can drink your tea so sweet, I would have guessed you liked your tea bitter" kaveh almost falls backwards from the surprise, you called him honey bunny?!?

He scribbles it before answering "It isn't sweetened, that is the taste of the leaves. I appreciate things done correctly, if it was bitter as you say it means that i burnt the leaves or those were cheap leaves"

Looking at 'Cachorrita' you try and test Al-haitham, you already taught him the meaning of cachorro, this is just the diminutive " If i take this off, does it look familiar?" You are covering the 'it' making it look like cachorra

Al-Haitham takes a second to remember but gets it at the end " Oh! Puppy!" He is so busy trying to hide how proud he is that neither of you notice kaveh gasp, misunderstanding the situation completely

looking at the last word you blush slightly, even if it wasn't exactly sexual in your language there wasn't any other translation that would fit 'Papito' better.

Stuttering slightly you look towards the window " D-daddy" Al-haitham was about to write that down until both of you got startled by the sound of the front door slamming closed but Al-haitham brushed it of as the wind slamming windows and badly closed doors

Second incident, sure people could argue that maybe it was a misunderstanding but kaveh swears he heard a straight up confession

Al-haitham is sitting on the floor, writing closely to what you translated from the book, it was barely 6 in the morning, the sun peeking from the horizon and slightly warming the room.

Al-Haitham had borrowed one book from the archives, supposedly this was one of the first leather bound books that they had ever found. The name of said book being pride and prejudice, a beloved book of yours.

Slowly scanning through the pages you start saying the words out loud, feeling the soul of a frail regency era lady enter you

"In vain have I struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you. -''

"What do you want?" Al-Haitham speaks suddenly, stopping you from continuing reading. Looking up the book you see the blond standing in the kitchen "Shouldn't you be working? At least for a change of pace"

"I was running late and I- I- I'm leaving. Sorry" and he leaves as if the devil was chasing him

The third and last incident. And kaveh's strongest theory

Having to deal with confidential information lead to many awkward moments, from having to be escorted to Al-haitham's apartment by 5 emerites to ensure the information wasn't counterfeited or stolen. Even when his apartment is a 10 minutes walk from the akademia.

Or having to stay cooped up inside his room for the sake of confidentiality when kaveh started staying in the same room you two were in to avoid 'scandalous things' from happening.

At one point it got so out of hand you started sleeping in Al-haitham's apartment more than yours stipulated accommodations, to the point of almost kicking kaveh out to let you sleep in his room, but after thinking about it you settled with his couch

" Pss, al-haitham" you hiss at him from the couch, from where you were you could only see his back and hair " are you up?"

He only shushes you " it's 11 pm, go to sleep"

" Tomorrow we don't have anything to do, right?" He mhm's lightly " can you take me to the carnival, there are acrobatic slimes"

" Why don't you go alone, I'm planning to sleep all day"

Walking up to his bed and jumping over him " c'monnn don't be boring!" You grab his arm and tug as you jump "You owe me"

He held the hand grabbing his arm by the wrist "why do i even owe you for?!"

" Because you are boring and we never leave! C'mon~ just one evening"

" Yn, I. Don't. Want"

" GOODNESS GRACIOUS CAN YOU TWO GO YOU SLEEP?" kaveh yells from the room next door

" Do you see what you cause?"

" Can we go to the carnival tomorrow?"

" … No."

" C'mon~ you scheduled a show of the manuscripts the same night I had a ticket to the carnival! You owe me a carnival night"

" It was the only date available!" He sits up suddenly, both of your faces meeting at your foreheads "if I say yes will you go to sleep quietly?" His cold hands gripping your cheeks

You answer a simple "Yep" and a toothy smile

" CAN YOU TWO GO TO SLEEP?!" Kaveh swings the door open ready to throw a pillow but sees you two " Oh. OH. Ohmygod, I'm sorry" and leaves

" Okay, i can see how this could be misunderstood" al-haitham falls back into his bed " go to bed now"

" Soo, did we agree?"

" Whatever"

#genshin impact #gi #self aware genshin impact #genshin sagau #sagau #genshin isekai #many parts can be read as #al haitham x reader #alhaitham x reader #al haitham

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