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mingigoo · 2 years

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Halloween 🍂 k.hj (m)

based on Halloween by phoebe bridgers

🍂 pairing ⇢ roommate! Hongjoong x medical student! (fem) reader

🍂 summary ⇢ life is the same, no matter a holiday. You wake up, hear the sirens from the hospital down the street, go to work, and come back home to your beautiful roommate, Hongjoong. It’s an endless cycle, but this Halloween, you could be anything—do anything. You decide to give into your infatuation, causing life to take a turn for you both. Happy Halloween, I guess.

🍂genre/au ⇢ Halloween au, roommate au, friends to lovers

🍂 warnings/tags ⇢ 18+ minors dni, mental illness (anxiety attacks), unprotected sex, hongjoong is a literal chef and certified sweetheart, literally the best roommate you could ever have, dreary, sad vibes, hongjoong has a cat, spooky season vibes, mention of death, oral sex (female recieving), best friends that dont know how to express their feelings, halloween party, yunho makes an appearance, hongjoong makes music, roommates to lovers, plz let me know if I missed anything.

🍂word count ⇢ 13.5k

🍂taglist ⇢ @atinywhore@meowmeowminnie @roe-sinning @yeritheloml @shegotboreddsoo @kangyeosangelic @sanshineeeeee @8tinytings @yukine-smx @jjhmk @yesv01 @halesandy @ch0isa99ie @y00nzin0 @spiderrenjunfics

Halloween. The time to dress up and act like someone you’re not. To have that insatiable feeling to be someone new—to put on a mask. To be absolutely anything you desire…

But the thing is, it’s not just you. You're not the only one feeling this way, and it's ever so apparent on one singular day, when everyone has a chance to hide their flaws behind comical masks or tedious costume designs. It's all out of fun, people say. It's the trend, it's the reason for the occasion. But, out of everything, you are becoming whatever you want—the same way Cinderella became a princess overnight, only to get it taken away from her the minute the hour of the next day struck.

To you, Halloween was your excuse to become a different person. To gain a new strength you never had. To free your mind into an alternate reality and explore those deep feelings you've been keeping away from spilling over the surface.

And this halloween, you were going to find your way out of that dark room you called a mind.

—

You sat in your cozy nook of the townhouse you shared, a mug of steaming coffee next to you while you read. Slow, gentle rain drops fell down the glass of the window, the soft pitter-patter creating an intimate environment. Your roommate’s cat added to the feeling, as she was curled up in a ball at your feet, dusty fur matching your fluffy socks.

It's finally october—your favorite time of the year, although there was no reason for it other than the tasty coffee flavors and the colorful scenery. Your roommate also adored the season, as it reflected in his peculiar food concoctions and outfit choices. Sometimes you would just sit and watch his eyes sparkle as he would do his favorite things, keeping your admiration in check.

Of course, he was on your mind way more than a roommate should be. Even now, as your eyes move from word to word across the smooth pages, you begin to think of his smile.

It was a Saturday afternoon. Your shift at the hospital ended the night before, three hours later than normal. It's gotten to the point that you would shiver whenever you hear sirens—and you were blessed with not only hearing the sirens at work, but also at home.

The hospital was only down the street; the closest one on this side of town. You had to keep those intrusive thoughts away, telling yourself someone better be dying just because the sirens are getting out of hand is a bit of a stretch, someone should slap you for thinking that way. In all honesty, you didn't actually mean it. The sounds were just so overwhelming, it felt like death was looming above you no matter where you turned.

Hongjoong hasn't returned from his morning classes yet. Luckily for you, you were doing your hospital internship and didn't have to take a bunch of classes this semester. Although basically living at a hospital isn't exactly any better.

You sighed as you watched the man of the hour walk through the lifeless leaves on the pavement through the window, keeping your heartbeat steady as you admired him. He had headphones on, hiding his cute little ear piercings and pieces of his faded rusty hair.

God, he made you sick.

The crimson door of the townhouse swung open, revealing the man you were just daydreaming about. He stood in the doorway, looking down at his damp, beaten up converse before bending down to untie them. He got impatient, and just pulled them off of his feet, leaving him only in his cute little pumpkin socks.

“y/n, I brought you a croissant,” he called out to you, not realizing you were only a glance away. He set his bag down on the table and took off his headphones, shaking his head to fix his hair. “You better get over here before I eat it.”

“Is it chocolate filled?” you asked him quietly from your nook, to which he whipped his head to look at you.

The minute he laid his eyes on you, he broke out in a huge smile, his gums showing. “Well, yeah. That's your favorite.”

You stared at him intently, setting down your book on your lap and sitting up a bit. This caused the kitty to meow, which had an immediate effect on your roommate.

His eyes widened. “Oh!” he gasped, running over to the cat to pay attention to her. “Look, baby, we’re twins,” he pointed to his pumpkin socks, smiling proudly. You knew that he only got those socks because of the pumpkins—and because his cat was named pumpkin. “My sweet little pumpkin.”

“What am I, chopped liver?” you scoffed, sliding out of your blanket and setting the book down. You made your way over to the table, which was where he set the croissant bag. “Anyway, thank you, joong.”

He looked over at you and smiled as a response, but it wasn't enough. You wanted him to come over to you and hold you tight, kiss you on the forehead, and let his soft breaths hit you as he would breathe for you.

Now, you weren't always like this. He’s been your roommate since freshman year, all the way back when you used to live on campus. You’ve been in three different living situations with him, but for some reason, living alone with him in a townhouse with a cat and a cute garden in the back just made your mind live in delululand. Dear god, you felt like a married couple at times, as he would spare no second to cook you dinner or help you with your laundry.

There was just something about him that was so domestic—the same thing you craved every chance you got. But yet, here you were, still daydreaming about it all and never getting it to happen.

And you know exactly when it started. On that halloween, three years ago, when he held you tight in his embrace after finding out your grandmother had passed. It was one of the worst panic attacks in your history. He takes care of you when they happen now, but back then, it was all new to him.

It wasn't supposed to be the type of moment you think about how his hair smelled, or the way his dainty hands caressed the tears away. It wasn't supposed to play out that way. But yet, it did, and you were still stuck with the feelings years later.

Halloween is less than a month away now—this year, it was a chance for you to hide away, or show your true colors.

— —

It was midnight and cold and all you wanted to do was curl up in a ball in your bed. Being in the emergency room was even harder than you imagined, and you knew you had a night of tossing and turning ahead of you. Luckily tomorrow was a rest day, and you would be back on campus for a seminar. You needed a break from the hustle and bustle of life versus death, and you started to think that maybe you just weren't cut out for it. It was far too late for your indecisiveness to kick in, as it seemed to jump up and surprise you every now and again. Hey! This isn't what you want to do, right? What about this? Ah, no, that's not what I want….

A never ending cycle of your life. Wake up, think about hongjoong. Drink coffee made by hongjoong. Have your shoes tied by hongjoong. Go to work and nearly die. Come home from your commute and see hongjoong. Hongjoong makes food for you. Hongjoong smiles for you. Hongjoong…..

Hongjoong, Hongjoong, Hongjoong……

He’s everywhere; Is everything. You know you wouldn't survive without the helpful, caring hands of the man you called a roommate, but you also don't know what will happen when you graduate and part ways. Knowing that he has no mental ties to you quite in the way you have him tied around every morsel of your psyche, it nearly breaks your heart just thinking about it.

Would you crumble right there? Like an old painting or a sculpture, would you cave in without that constant attention? That constant affection for just your existence?

Giving up on your existential thoughts for the night, you slowly glided up the few steps of the brick townhouse, nearly tripping on the last step. You've already done that one too many times, as there is a permanent mark left on your favorite pair of shoes.

Finally opening the door, you entered your humble abode with a grimace, chucking off your shoes to reach the kitchen table. You sat down grumpily, putting your elbows up onto the table when the sweet smell of baking filled your senses.

“Joong? Whatcha makin?” you playfully spoke. He was leaning against the counter across from you, his arms crossed and his eyebrow raised.

“What does it smell like?” he asked you.

You shrugged, breaking your stare to rest your head on the cold table. “I guess like cookies.”

Joong took a second to respond to you, and ran a hand through his rusty hair. It used to be a vibrant red—just like the leaves of the trees.

“Are you feeling alright?” he spoke softly, moving from his distant position to come a little closer, now leaning against the table. His arms held him up, and from your line of vision, you were able to see a few of his fingertips painted black. “Was it a bad day at the hospital?”

Sirens bellowed loudly from the street, as if on cue of the topic. You groaned and nodded. “God, yeah. There was so much….death. I mean, I thought I knew it was going to be bad but I never thought it was this bad.”

Hongjoong sighed, backing up to get the cookies out of the oven. “I have a question,” he said, his voice strained as he reached into the heat.

“Shoot.”

He set the tray down onto the stove, turning off the oven.

“Are you happy?”

His words made you raise your head, meeting his worry-filled gaze. You always hated the way he looked at you, it wasn't in the way you wanted. He always seemed so worried—like he was pitying you. He knew your whole life story, from how you were only raised by a grandmother that lived her life for you, to how you deal with the anxiety that breaks through you like a sickness. It hinders you to the point where you hide it from others, but joong—he knows everything.

You smiled at him, hiding your true colors because he always seemed to break down your walls. In truth, you were feeling anxiety all day—maybe it was the woman who reminded you of your grandmother today. The same woman you witnessed flatline with her granddaughter gripping her pale hand. You watched the young girl’s tears smack onto the linoleum, your heart aching and letting your own tears well up.

Your grandmother was all you had. Your parents passed away in a car accident together, the world taking them both away from you in the same night. You witnessed it from the backseat, the cracks of the windshield and the dark, pooling blood you wished wasn't your parents. It was some sort of miracle that you survived unscathed, but in your sweet grandmother’s words, you were an angel.

You didn't believe in any of that religious shit now, but maybe it was due to all your ups and downs. You didn't need to have some godly figure in your life to know that you were damned no matter what. So you lived your life in fits of anxiety and happiness, all swarming around you. Your anxiety made you believe that you didn't deserve that happiness, and the happiness made you believe you didn't deserve the anxiety.

And hongjoong? He was your happiness.

You sighed, remembering that he asked you a question long before your mind started wandering. You smiled, a real smile, right at him. “Yes, if you're here with me, I'm happy.”

He scoffed playfully, still directly across from you. The only thing in your way was the kitchen table, creating some sort of barrier with your feelings. You could just…walk around it and enter his world, touch his face, run your hands through his hair…

“Well I’m just checking up on my y/n,” he smiled, that beautiful smile of his. He pushed up his sleeves, and turned away from you to pick up a cookie off the tray. “Come here.”

You obeyed like a well-trained dog, making your way past that invisible barrier. He stood close to you, his eyes bright and sparkling as he looked down at you. “Open,” he said, and once again, you obeyed like you owed him your life.

You opened your mouth for him to give you a bite, his fingertips gliding against the corners of your mouth. You ate the cookie from his hold happily, and when he was going to pull away after it was gone, you suddenly gripped his wrist with your hand.

“What are you—”

“Shh. there's still some chocolate on your fingers,” you teased, looking into his eyes as you licked the tip of his fingers, trying your best to distract your horrible thoughts. Now your focus has moved to tease him, hoping to get a reaction out of him.

Your lips moved down onto his fingers, sucking on them until the taste of chocolate was dull. You shut your eyes, not able to see the look of lust radiating from hongjoong’s glare. It disappeared the moment you met his eyes again, and he let out a chuckle as you pulled back.

“You really like chocolate, huh?” he carried on, his eyes moving back and forth from your eyes to your hand gripping his wrist. His vision was hazy as he pulled out of your grip, moving to distract himself with something—anything. “I thought you preferred my gingerbread cookies?”

You nodded, looking at him up and down. “Yeah, but only around christmas time.”

“Ah,” he gulped, reaching for the small towel that was hanging from the oven door. He wiped his hands hastily, moving away from you towards his little study–converted into a studio. “I gotta go finish my song, alright? Why don't you eat more of the cookies?”

He shut the door of his studio room with aggression, leaving you in a warm, chocolatey kitchen with flour all over the floor. You smiled down at it, making you think about him spilling it and cursing like a sailor.

You loved him.

—

The week flew by, it was now mid-october. Your favorite season was slowly fading away with a blink of an eye, and you spent most of your autumn days cooped up in the emergency ward or your room, hiding from the sirens. Maybe this isn't for you, but once again—

You were too far in to quit, now. You loved it, you really did. You had that feeling–that ability—to save someone's life the way your parents’ lives could have been spared. You were doing a good thing, you couldn't handle the anxiety for the expense of someone's life.

You found yourself curled up in your cozy blanket in the corner of the couch, hongjoong sitting on the other side. He stared at you—watched your movements. He noticed everything about you, and knew when you were about to have an attack.

“y/n? Why don't you put on your favorite show?” he asked you, but it was more of a demand. When you stared at him blankly from your curled over position, he sighed and stood up to grab the remote from the coffee table. After turning on some cartoons that you loved, he left the room to grab a glass of water.

When he came back, you were sitting up straight, staring off toward the window, looking at how the raindrops fell. You opened your mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Just a desperate breath for air. You fisted the blanket in your hands, holding back your shakes.

Hongjoong sat the cup of water down quickly, making his way over to you with a rush. He sat down next to you and wrapped his arms around you, nuzzling his face into your shoulder. “Come on, angel. It's okay, I promise,” his voice echoed through your mind, your breathing getting unsteady and your hands twitching in your grip for them to stop. The feeling overwhelmed you—it was as if you were dying. His touch only helped a little in the heat of the moment, and he held you tightly as your body shaked.

You gasped for air, the tears of fear rolling down your cheeks. No matter how many times you go through these attacks, each time makes you feel like you wont make it through it. Hongjoong’s facial expression looked pained as he reached for your hands under the blanket, gripping them in his own so you weren't cutting crescents into your palms.

“Let's play the letter game, okay?” his head was still buried in your neck, his voice strong. “An animal. Okay? An animal that starts with A?”

You gulped, tearing into the skin of his hand with your nails. “A…animal?”

He chuckled, nodding. “Yes angel, an animal. What animal starts with the letter A?”

“Uh,” you breathed, the tears now staining his shirt. “A-ant eater?”

He pulled away from your neck, his free hand running down your cheek to catch the tears. “Good job. B?”

You took a second, panicking when you couldn't think of something. Hongjoong ran a hand through your hair as you shook, holding onto you tightly. “It's okay, I'll help you. Bear? Buffalo? You like buffalo sauce, right? You like the spice.”

You nodded, smiling at his efforts. He did this with such love in his eyes that you could have sworn he was in love with you. That he cared for you this deeply.

He smiled, brightening up your heart. “Good, good. Now C?”

“Cat.”

“Wonderful,” he cooed, running a hand down your arm. He carried on through the alphabet, until he reached H.

“Hongjoong,” you smiled, finally feeling a bit more like yourself and not some mummy locked in its own body.

He laughed melodically, causing your smile to brighten even more. “I’m not an animal,” he teased, pulling you to his chest and running a hand down your back. “Are you feeling better?”

You nodded, your hand tremors dying down. Hongjoong didn't let go of your hand yet, still holding onto you as tight as he could.

“I just want to take it all away,” he whispered softly, his lips near your ear. Little did he know that he did take the pain away. He was the source of your happiness—you needed him.

“You do,” you hummed back raspily, your heart on your sleeve as he kept you close to him. “You do take the pain away.”

He sighed, kissing your temple with such softness, you crumbled in his hold.

“I don't think it's enough.”

You didn't say anything after that. He did let go of you reluctantly after you said you needed the water, but the minute you finished drinking it, he was back to holding you, his head against yours as silence enveloped you both in the darkness of the room.

You were certain friends don't kiss each other like that.

—

The next week of October came—the week before halloween. This time, you felt better than last week. The constant presence of dressing up as something this year was heavy on your chest, knowing your colleagues have invited you to a party. You have yet to ask hongjoong to join you, as you wouldn't dare show your face alone.

You took a day off on the first day of the week, hongjoong sick as a dog and your heart aching for him.

You brewed some hot tea and fixed him up a bowl of his favorite soup, caring for him the same way he catered to you. The thing was that he denied it most of the time, leaving you standing alone with your heart in your hands, ready to give it to him.

You set the bowl of soup on a tray you normally used as decor, spilling it slightly that the wood of the tray darkened. You rolled your eyes at your clumsiness, and then set the mug of tea on the stained wood.

Making your way up the thin, creaky townhouse stairs, you reached his room at the end of the hallway. He left the door open a crack, inviting you in at any given moment. So you entered the sunlit room, his curtains pulled back and his head hidden under the duvet. All you could see of him was his little wave of orange hair and a foot peeking from the cover.

“Joongie,” you cooed, cautiously entering his abode with nervousness. You knew him for ages, took care of him for ages, but everytime you got close to him, you felt your chest get heavy. Almost as if something was pushing you down. “Are you awake?”

He groaned something inaudible, tossing around in the bed until half of his body was out of the covers. He was shirtless, his smooth, slightly toned stomach glistening with sweat. You sighed, collecting your dirty thoughts.

You set the tray down on his nightstand, pushing aside the cough medicine and dirty tissues you would clean up after. Little pumpkin was sitting at the foot of the bed, watching your every move.

“I have dinner for you,” you hummed, reaching over to him, but pausing at his unclothed body. It was as if you were a feral animal—you wanted to devour him.

You ignored the instinct and pulled up the covers.

“What is it? I’m not hungry,” he groaned groggily, his eyes barely opening. He let out a cough, and it made you want to take his sickness away.

“You need to eat, you haven't eaten all day.”

He sighed, pushing himself up on the bed, revealing his body after you concealed it. He leaned up against his headboard, sniffling. His eyes were sunken in and his lips were pale, but you still thought he was the most beautiful being in the world.

You wanted to kiss away his chapped lips.

“Soup?” he said raspily, looking over at his night stand. He went to reach for it, but nearly spilled the tray.

You grabbed the bowl, and went to sit on the edge of the bed, next to his sweating frame. He definitely still had a fever. “Here, take it while I take your temp.”

He grabbed the soup out of your hold, his warm fingers brushing against yours. He didn't hesitate when you leaned over him, but you heard his breaths get shallow when you brushed away the hairs off his face to place your hand on his forehead. “Stay away from me,” he blinked at you, and even though his words seemed harsh, it was all out of love. “You’ll get sick. I don't want you to get sick.”

“I’d rather be sick than watch you suffer,” you smiled at him, your eyes lingering on his chapped lips for a moment too long. “You look better than you did this morning.”

He swallowed a spoonful of the soup, shutting his eyes tight as the warm liquid coated his sore throat.

“Thank you,” he said. It was only an acknowledgement in words, but his eyes pierced through yours as you sat inches away from him. He meant it, but you were too involved to read between the lines of his breaths.

He breathed for you.

You stood up to leave him peace, but your breath hitched as his warm hand reached your thigh, causing you to look down at it cautiously.

“Don't—” he paused, lifting his grip and moving to set down the bowl of soup. “Don't go.”

You didn't let the smile creep up onto your lips. “I thought you didn't want me to get sick?” you instigated, but nonetheless moved further onto the bed, holding onto his overheating frame with all the love in the world.

“I don't, but I want to be selfish today,” he coughed, nuzzling his head into you. His lips were pressed to your neck, sending chills down your spine. Your fingertips caressed his bare skin, hoping to take away his sickness.

You held him until the sun went down, thinking that was enough for him.

Feeling as though he was sleeping, you tried to pull yourself out of his grip, to which he pulled you to him even tighter. Now your faces were an inch apart as you both lied on the bed, his hot breaths tickling your lips.

“Where are you going?” he asked you.

“Nowhere,” you smiled, looking into his tired eyes. You leaned forward, resting your head against his. “I’m sorry.”

He sighed in contentment, letting out a breath as his arms tightened around you. He didn't speak—he just looked at you with hearts in his eyes.

“Don't leave me,” he whispered.

You ran a hand through his messy hair. “I won't, I won't.”

He fell asleep in your arms, all while your mind kept you up the whole night. You knew this isn't what normal friends do—but this is how you were together, which was normal for you.

You got sick the day after.

—

On the third day of the week before halloween, you both were finally feeling better. He seemed back to normal, but you still had a slight sore throat that made you not want to eat. Hongjoong insisted the same way you made him eat the soup, and he cooked up your favorite pasta meal.

“You need to eat,” he muttered, using tongs to place a scoop of pasta onto a plate. You sat across from him at the table, your head in your hands.

“I have a splitting headache,” you groaned, lifting your head up to catch the glimmer in hongjoong's caring glance.

He handed you the full plate, your nose filled with the delicious scent. “I’ll get you some medicine.”

“I’m fine, joongie,” you mumbled with a rasp, twirling your pasta around in your fork, but not lifting it up into your mouth. You stared at the thin noodles that dangled from the metal, distracted as the sauce splattered onto the plate. Hongjoong watched you, an eyebrow raised and his lip curled up.

He sat down across from you. “I uh…is there a hair in it or something?” he asked you, but a joking smile dawned on his face. “If there is, still eat it. I won't do take-backs.”

“Awe, how kind,” you chuckled, finally lifting the fork up to eat the delicious pasta. You closed your eyes as the taste filled your senses, opening them to see the look Hongjoong was giving you.

“You look pretty today,” he acknowledged, his eyes dancing around your features. He blinked at you, waiting for you to brush it off.

Boom boom.

Your heart picked up its pace. “Don't lie, joong. It doesn't suit you.”

He rolled his eyes, resting his head in his hands as he stared at you. Your phone buzzed with a text message from your work friend, which reminded you about something that happened earlier during the day.

“Oh,” you muttered with a mouthful of food. “Some guy asked for my number today,” you took another bite.

Hongjoong tilted his head at you, and then moved his gaze to his own plate of food, grabbing his fork to stab the noodles. “Oh really?”

You nodded, swallowing the food as he glared down at his own. “Yeah. he was cute. What was his name….uh, yun..yunho? Super tall, let me tell you. It was like staring up at a skyscraper—”

Hongjoong interrupted you with a loud scoff, accidentally screeching his fork against the plate. “Did you give him your number, though?” he asked you, acting as if you didn't.

You studied him for a moment, feeling confused. He seemed to care more than he should. You honestly gave the cute skyscraper your number, but you didn't have a thought in your mind about actually texting him back.

You shrugged, playing with him a little bit. “Yeah, I did,” is all you said, smiling to yourself. You were sure hongjoong thought you were smiling about yunho, when in reality you were smiling for him. “He was too cute to reject.”

At that, Hongjoong’s fork clanked onto the plate, causing you to jump and look at him. He looked mad—too mad. You swallowed the lump in your throat, feeling like you hit a nerve.

“Joong? What's wrong?”

He laughed devilishly, his eyebrows raised and his mouth slightly open. “So what? Are you gonna go on a date with him or something?”

You knew you were pushing his buttons a little too far, but you furrowed your brows at his unusual behavior.

You leaned forward, setting your own fork down. “Hey,” you narrowed your gaze while he practically had smoke coming out of his ears. “Are you jealous? Should I not date him?”

He blinked at you, and looked down at your lips for a second.

“No.” is all he said.

“He seems like a good fuck. Should just fuck him silly instead and—”

“y/n I swear to god,” he groaned, running a hand through his hair aggressively. “I, uh. Fuck,” he hissed, unable to look at you. “Thanks for the image.”

You frowned jokingly. “Ah, I see. You were visualizing me getting fucked?” you smirked, knowing you were taking it way too far. “Do you want to watch? Or join?”

You reached your arm out, sensually touching his fisted hand. You ran your fingertips in circles around his hand, a smirk on your lips.

He pulled back and stood up abruptly, causing the chair to squeak against the floor. “I-i have to go—I mean, I have a song to write…I uh…” he coughed, glancing at you for one minute and then storming out of the room, leaving you all alone with cold pasta and a frown on your face.

He didn't show his face to you that whole night.

—

Two days later; it was a friday. You had to go to campus early in the morning to listen to a required lecture, which ended up by you sitting next to hongjoong on the commuter bus.

He sat stiffly, his knee bumping into yours occasionally whenever the bus hit a pothole. You couldn't lie, you wanted him to stay touching you.

Ever since two nights ago when you brought up fucking someone and having him watch, he acted distant with you. You felt bad, hoping you didn't make him too uncomfortable with an image he probably never wanted to see in the first place.

Joong leaned against the cold bus window, looking out at the leaves that matched his hair. In his ears sat wired earbuds, attached to the jack of his phone. You leaned your shoulder into him, looking down at his hands in his lap.

No words were spoken. He lifted his head to look over at you, and after a moment, he sighed, and handed you the earbud closest to you.

“Here,” he hummed, barely audible.

You took it wordlessly, putting it in your ear to hear the soft strum of a guitar. You didn't recognize the song, but you felt the emotion fill through the little speaker, breaking through your heart. You always loved how he would share his favorite things with you, even if he was upset with you.

“I’m sorry, joongie,” you sighed, resting your head on his shoulder. He didn't say anything; maybe he was waiting for you to continue. “I shouldn't have said those things the other day.”

He mumbled something you couldn't decipher, but then nodded shortly. “It's not something to apologize for. I’m sorry I ignored you the whole night.”

You looked at his hands. He was rubbing his knuckles anxiously, so you reached out to hold them. He jumped slightly, and you gave him a side eye.

He eventually settled with your hands on top of his, and your head against his shoulder. You listened to his whole playlist—and his heartbeat—until you had to leave.

—

The same night, you brought up the halloween party.

“I need you to come with me,” you said, your eyes pleading.

He sat next to you on the couch, pumpkin sleeping adorably in his criss-crossed lap. “Why don't you take the skyscraper?” he said blatantly, his expression unreadable. He held a bottle of soju in one of his hands and had the tv remote in the other.

Was he actually jealous? At this point, he hasn't been himself since you told him about Yunho, who you didn't even know his last name.

You looked over at him, as he was paying strict attention to finding a movie. You began to overthink like you always do, convincing yourself that Hongjoong doesn't want anything to do with you.

“Do you still want to be friends with me?” you ignored his question about yunho, now feeling a bit unstable.

He noticed the shake in your voice, and sat up straight. He finally looked over at you, his eyes softening.

“y/n,” he sighed, setting the remote down. “Of course I do. Don't worry about me leaving you.”

Your gaze shot right through him. “But…you just seem off. Ever since I joked about….you know,” you sighed, running a hand through your hair. “It's something you probably had no intention of visualizing, so I feel bad—”

“No, uh,” he gulped, looking anywhere but you. “It wasn't that…”

You raised your eyebrows. “Huh? Really? What was it then?”

He looked deep in thought—and a little nervous. You wanted the words that came out of his mouth to be a love confession, something straight out of a movie. You knew it wasn't going to turn out that way, but you couldn't stop your heart from beating out of your chest.

“I just,” he paused, afraid to look over at you. “I just worry about you. I want the best for you.”

Ouch, that wasn't a confession.

Come on, hongjoong. How hard is it to say, “Oh, y/n, I love you. I’ve loved you ever since I met you?”

You hid your dissatisfaction with a smile. “I can hold my own, joongie. I may be the most anxious person alive, but I can still meet guys.”

“I know you're capable, it's not you,” he admitted, looking a bit embarrassed as he shook the bottle of soju. “It's them. The guys. You deserve the world and I don't know what I would do if a guy took it all away.”

You sat and stared as he finally picked a movie—the nightmare before christmas. It wasn't your favorite, but something about it reminded you of Hongjoong. After it started playing, he tossed the remote onto the coffee table.

“I appreciate that you care,” you told him softly, looking down at your hands in your lap. “But you don't have to worry about guys.”

You sat in silence for a little, your heartbeat finally slowing down. He scooted closer and closer to you until pumpkin jumped out of his lap angrily. He saw that as an excuse to stand up and finally plop down next to you, his shoulder brushing yours.

“You’re special to me, y/n,” is all he said as he rested his head on your shoulder, cuddling up to you under the warm, cozy blanket.

—

Tonight was the party. You were rooting through your closet, tossing things at hongjoong, who sat on your bed among the pile of clothes.

“We're being pirates, right? I’m sorry, but I doubt you have pirate shit in that closet of yours.” He teased, lifting up a shirt from the pile to fold it.

Maybe you should have planned this better.

“I have to have my corset in here somewhere,” you ignored him, knowing you were just going to toss on a slutty ass dress and put the corset on over it. “Hongjoong come here, will you?”

You heard him let out an ungodly sigh as he stomped over to you, kneeling right next to you. “What am I supposed to wear?”

“Hongjoong you literally have every possible article of clothing in your closet.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Shush.”

He stayed quiet then, and after a moment, he started to root with you. After a bunch of irritated sighs and groans, hongjoong found your corset.

“This?” he raised an eyebrow playfully. You reached out to grab it, only for him to stand up and back away from you. “Come and get it.”

“We don't have time for this, joong,” you groaned, but still stood up and followed him. He was cackling as you tried to jump for it, standing on his tip-toes as if he thought of himself as a giant. You moved forward, lunging at him with full force, which sent you tumbling down onto the smooth comforter of your bed.

You landed on top of him, his warmth radiating through you. Your hips met his hips, and something stirred inside of you. His lips were inches from yours, his hands over his head and his eyes wide.

You felt more of him than you should, but you didn't want to move. You wanted to invade his space forever—if it were a job, you’d be a professional.

He didn't say anything—he looked up through the sea of your hair, his gaze resting on your lips. He frowned, and you wondered what he was thinking.

You wanted to reach out to him. To hold him right here, forever. You wanted him to be yours and only yours.

You studied the shapes of his face, similar to how an artist evaluates their subject. He had to be sculpted by a god or something, with the way his lips curve just right, and with the compelling wonder that swirled in his eyes.

Before it got too weird, you pushed yourself up despite the ache to become one with him, and you ripped the corset out of his hands. “Thanks,” you coughed, and he still didn't move from his position on the bed.

He stared up at the ceiling—the ceiling you decorated with those tacky glow in the dark stars. The room was dimly lit from the warm-toned lamp that sat on your dresser, right next to your pile of anatomy textbooks.

You both listened to silence for a while, Hongjoong now sitting up after a few long moments. You found the dress you wanted to wear, and gave him a look.

“I’m gonna change, so if you want to see every part of me, you're welcome to stay.” you muttered, your fingertips on the waistband of your leggings. He looked at your hands, his eyes growing darker.

He raked his eyes all over your clothed body. You wondered about what he was thinking—did he want to rip the clothes off of you? Did he want to stay and watch?

Your curiosity ended when he stood up slowly. “Come help me with my outfit then. After you change, of course.”

A small fraction of your heart caved in as the door shut behind him, but the ache for him remained standing.

You slid off your clothes, wishing your hands were his.

—

You waltzed into the party, which was at your colleague, yeosang’s place. He was born with old money, and it showed through the exquisite taste of his home. He was nowhere to be found though—which was normal. He wasn't exactly sociable. The one who took it by the wheel was his best friend wooyoung, who seemed like he would embody a party.

“I didn't pregame enough,” Hongjoong gulped as he stared at the strangers around the home, some guzzling alcohol from bongs and others simply conversing with each other. On the other hand, there were a bunch of people blowing big puffs of hazy marijuana smoke, and others snorting shit that you never touched before.

Joong shivered. “Aren't you guys like…medical students?” He raised an eyebrow, his one eye covered with an eye patch and his other one wide. “You have to know that snorting cocaine is not beneficial to your health.”

You slapped his shoulder, feeling out of this world already. Maybe you shouldn't have slammed those shots. “Whatever. Lets go get fucked up so i don't have to remember this tomorrow,” you wrapped your arm in his, pulling him into the grand kitchen that had a chandelier dangling from the vaulted ceiling.

“I think you’re blown out enough, to be honest.”

You reached in the cooler to grab a bottle of some sort of alcohol you didn't recognize. “I’m guessing this shit is like millions of dollars,” you shrugged, handing it off to the pirate you called hongjoong.

He looked fine as hell in his own corset, brown leather wrapping around that thin waist of his. He had on a half-unbuttoned white button down, pulled up at the elbows. His pants were tight, leaving your mind wandering back to earlier when your hips bucked against his. His rusty hair was hidden under a bandana that matched your dress, with flakes of greens and dustings of gold.

“y/n? Hello?” he snapped his fingers in front of your face, his one eye piercing into yours. “You zoned out for a minute.”

“Ah, oh sorry,” you sighed, looking down at your own outfit. Your dress was flowy, but only reached about mid-thigh, showing leg and tits at the same time. Your legs were covered in fishnets, and you noticed many partygoers staring at them.

You reached into the cooler to grab yourself a drink, guzzling it like water. Hongjoong watched, and then did the same. You both pulled away at the same time, expressions matching like twins as you scrunched your eyebrows.

“Thats strong as fuck,” he hissed, but still drank the rest of the bottle since thats what you were doing. His eyes locked on you as you finished the last drop, and you reached for another. “Yo, slow down. You downed like five shots of vodka earlier.”

You rolled your eyes, finally feeling like yourself. You loved the feeling of being drunk—you felt like you could finally be the person you were under the surface. The person without anxiety. The person who didn't have to hide how to feel.

“You know,” you hummed, setting down the second bottle onto the gold counter. You approached him, your hands finding the collar of his unbuttoned shirt. You watched him swallow hard, his Adam's apple bobbing—you wanted to lick it. “Did I ever tell you how hot you are?”

Hongjoong’s eyes—eye— widened at your words, and set his hands on your elbows to pull you off of him. “You’re obliterated and we weren't even here for five minutes.”

“I’m not,” you rolled your eyes, pulling out of his grip and grabbing his arms now.

He didn't even get to say what he wanted to say as the skyscraper himself came up to you, bending his head down slightly to see if it was you.

“y/n?” His tone of voice was smooth and cool, your name rolling off his tongue with ease.

“Oh!” you exclaimed, moving your attention away from hongjoong. “Skyscraper!”

He laughed, looking from you to hongjoong with a confused glance. “She must be drunk, she’s usually quiet at work,” yunho said to hongjoong, not expecting the glare of death to radiate from his single eye.

“Oh no, she’s loud and obnoxious at home,” Hongjoong growled, reaching out to steady you.

The tall vampire tilted his head at the pirate, a smirk on those full lips. “Home?” he inquired, looking at you with that same smirk. You glanced up at him with a smile, not purposely ignoring your roommate. You were just a teensy bit drunk—call it tipsy—and you were fascinated with the red contacts in Yunho's eyes.

“Did you change your eye color?” you asked him in all seriousness, looking over at the cooler filled with alcohol with longingness. Hongjoong scoffed at your words, and couldn't stop you as you reached out to touch Yunho's face, which remained in a smirk as your fingertips brushed against his skin. “Even your skin is sparkly.”

“You never answered me,” he hummed lowly, hongjoong feeling like the third wheel now. The vampire leaned down towards your face, a lustful smile on his lips. “About that date?”

Hongjoong had enough. He muttered a goodbye, but you weren't able to hear it.

“Hmmm…” you clicked your tongue, tapping your chin slowly. “I’m sorry, count dracula. I have someone in my heart already,” you proudly proclaimed.

He smiled despite the rejection, his white teeth bright under the dim lighting. “I’m guessing it’s that one-eyed pirate, hm?” he asked, but he knew the answer.

“Yep. even though he’s a little bitch sometimes,” you bowed to him then, lifting your gaze to meet his red eyes. “Sorry again.”

He nodded with a smirk. “Well your pirate just ran off somewhere, so you better go find him before he thinks something different.”

You might have been a bit out of it, but you knew enough that yunho was a good sport. He walked away before you could say anything else, leaving you all alone in a sea of people. You recognized some faces, like wooyoung and some guy named yeonjun from the general surgery department who hit on you during a surgical lesson. You surveyed the scene, meeting eyes with some random men who kept looking even when you moved your gaze.

You grabbed another drink from the cooler, flipping the cap off and dumping its contents into your mouth. After the rush of warmth hit your body, you pushed through the bodies of people in search of your person.

“Anyone see another pirate?” you yelled to no one in particular. “He has orange hair and a pretty face. Has one eye and—Oh, he’s kinda short too. Like a little leprechaun.”

Now you were just blabbing into nothingness as your vision split. You know damn well your alcohol tolerance was scarily low, but you still got yourself fucked up to the point of no coming back.

You weren't sure where you were going, but you found yourself outside now, behind the extravagant mansion. You stood on the patio, shivering from the lack of clothing and cool autumn air.

You looked out towards the yard, intricately covered in plants and flowers. If you were sober, you’d call it a garden. For now, it was just a pile of vegetation.

“Joongie! You yelled loudly, as if he was going to suddenly fly out of the bushes to greet you. There was no one around—not even a bug. “Joong? Pirate king? Captain—”

“You’re too loud,” his sweet voice filled your eardrums, but it sounded dull—like he was irritated. “Why don't you go entertain that vampire?”

“Because…” you drawled out, turning towards him in the ocean of flowers. You stood in the middle of a surreal garden, but it was too dark to see the colors. There was a small lamppost above you, only coloring a quarter of the flowers in your view. “Because I want my pirate.”

His eye studied you for a moment, and then he sighed, leaning up against the post. “Y/n, I—”

“Shh,” you whispered, drunkenly leaning up against him, unable to tear your drunken eyes from his lips. “You have something on your lip,” you hummed, the pads of your fingers brushing against his soft lips. There was nothing there; you just wanted to touch them.

“ah-ah-Okay, I think you got it—”

“ —I want to kiss you,” you whined, crushing your head against his chest. You heard his heart race as you touched him. “I want to kiss you so bad.”

He stiffened underneath you, his arms at his sides as you held onto him. “You're drunk.”

“I know, but I want to kiss you even when I’m sober,” you lifted your head up, frowning when you only saw one eye. You brushed your fingers against the soft skin of his face, gripping onto the eye-patch softly. “And I want to see your pretty eyes.”

He kept quiet and still, letting you lift the eye-patch over his head, your hazy gaze meeting his starstruck one. Your hand didn't leave his face even after the patch was gone, and he just stood there with all the love in the world in his gaze.

You leaned forward, slowly, carefully, and met your lips with his. You gripped his shirt, your knuckles turning white and your eyes shut tight. He finally snaked an arm around your waist, parting your mouth open with his own. He kissed you hungrily, as if he couldn't hold back even if he wanted to. It felt like ecstasy, two worlds colliding. You now felt like you could tell the colors of the flowers—you felt like you could do anything.

And once he gripped the back of your head to deepen the kiss, you woke up drenched in more than sweat, your clothes missing and your hair like a halo around your head.

What the fuck?

—

Was it all a dream? Did you even go to that party? Did you…did you even get to kiss Hongjoong?

You looked under the covers to see the same underwear you put on before the party—paired with the matching bra. You felt drenched to your core, dreaming about something—

“You're awake,” hongjoong gave you a weird glance as he walked into your room to toss you a hoodie of his. “Put this on.”

“Where are my clothes?” you asked with an eyebrow raised. “Did we…”

He stopped in his tracks, looking at you like a deer in headlights. “Did we what? Fuck?” he scoffed, turning away to walk out of your room. “No. and I took your clothes off because you threw up all over them.”

“So, did we actually go to the party?” you barely spoke, gripping the blanket tightly in your hands. “I had this weird dream…”

He swallowed hard and nodded, turning back to you but not meeting your eyes. “Yeah, we went.”

So you blacked out? Or was your dream possibly real?

He left the room then, leaving you all alone in a mess of yourself—and your thoughts.

After a bit of time wallowing in your own self-pity, you managed to leave your comfortable hiding spot you called a room to go downstairs, where hongjoong had a bowl of hangover soup ready for you on the table. He was nowhere to be seen, though, so you assumed he was out doing something or in his little makeshift studio.

Telling yourself it was all a dream so you wouldn't get your hopes up, you plopped down onto the chair to eat. You stared down at the soup, swirling it around with the spoon like you’ve never seen it before, your mind everywhere else but the idea of eating.

Eventually you raised the spoon to your mouth, but the thoughts of hongjoong didn't subside. He was the reason you wanted to keep on living in this god-forsaken world, and you couldn't risk the possibility of ruining your friendship. You decided to not speak of your dream, or even express your feelings, for the sake of keeping him by your side.

After you finished your breakfast, you tip-toed through the creaky floors to peek and see if Joong was in his hideout. As soon as you saw the rush of orange hair, you smiled, and left him alone. Pumpkin was staring at you through the glass window, lying comfortably on the plush carpet he had.

You walked away then, tossing on your jacket and a pair of shoes, and made your way to the convenience store around the corner. You didn't want to interrupt Hongjoong’s focus just to tell him that you wanted some banana milk.

You left him in peace, not knowing that he was going to worry about where you went.

—

You walked slowly towards your townhouse, watching the leaves land on the sidewalk. Some leaves even left imprints on the pavement, greenish-hues as the remnant of when they once lived.

Halloween was right around the corner. The party was over. You kissed the love of your life—in a dream, of course. It seemed like the world was moving so fast, as if you had no time to hold on as it moved.

You swung the door open, finding hongjoong in panic mode, his hand in his hair and the other one gripping his phone.

Your eyes widened. “Joong?” you tilted your head, slipping off your shoes before moving further. “Everything alright?”

He let out a sigh of relief, dropping his hands to his sides. “I didn't know where you went. You didn't answer your phone.”

You frowned, patting the pockets of your hoodie—hongjoongs hoodie. “Oh? I must've forgotten it.”

He scoffed as you walked past him to reach the fridge. You emptied the bag, putting the banana milk into the fridge and pulling out the cheap, single rose the store had at the register.

“You don't know how worried I was,” he groaned, rubbing his eyes in irritation. “You can't just leave without saying anything, I thought you were kidnapped.”

You chuckled softly, smiling to yourself that he cared. The smile began to drop, though, as you began to think it was only platonic—and that's all it will ever be.

You turned around to face him, a forced smile on your face. “Here,” you said, handing him the nearly-dead red rose that had a slightly bent stem.

He looked down at the token of affection, confusion washing over his features. “A r-rose?” he stuttered slightly, eyes meeting yours. “For me?”

“Mhm,” you nodded, taking a step closer to him.

“Why?” he inquired, his eyes searching yours for any type of answer.

You gathered what you wanted to say, swallowing hard. “Because you're my best friend. I never want to lose our friendship.”

You saw his hesitation then. It was as if you said something hurtful, but all you spoke was the truth. He let out a little laugh, and reached out to grab the decaying flower.

His fingers brushed against yours, sending chills down your spine. The minute your skin made contact with his, you replayed the kiss you shared in dreamland, hoping that if you kept thinking about it, it would come true.

“Ah, Best friend…” he smiled—almost sadly—and inspected the rose. “Thank you.”

You sniffed, feeling like you just ruined something. But there was nothing there to begin with. You nodded, and turned on your heels.

“I uh, I’m going out then,” he spoke up, his hands feeling the petals.

You stopped, looking down at your bare feet. “Oh really? Where?”

He paused. “With friends.”

You nodded, but didn't turn around. “Have fun.”

He didn't say anything else, and just let you trudge up the stairs. Your heart felt like it was about to crumble, and without reason. Nothing changed, nothing was broken. You said the truth, he told you he was going out. A typical day in your household.

So why did it feel like your world just ended?

—

Days fly by. Hongjoong ended up coming home the next morning that day, and without a word, he locked himself up in his studio.

It was halloween. You felt like it was pointless now, unable to connect to your hongjoong like you never had a connection in the first place. As if you didn't spend every waking moment together. Birthdays, holidays.

You stood in front of your full length mirror, critiquing every single angle of your body. You knew deep down you were beautiful; some days you just saw everything wrong all at once. You stood there, lost, alone, and still thinking of hongjoong like he was living in your mind.

And one day, you’ll watch hongjoong leave, causing life to lose all its meaning.

You sighed, pulling your jeans up slightly to button them. You slid a t-shirt over your bra, feeling like you waited for this day for nothing. You felt numb—like the anticipation was worth nothing. You slid on a pair of festive socks, finally getting your bare feet off the cold, wooden floors.

It was still early—not even noon. Usually you’d be at work and joong would be at school, but you were both home, locked away in your rooms, acting like you don't exist. Well, you didn't want it to play out this way—you wanted to run into his arms, tell him you love him, and bury him in kisses in the halloween haze.

You had no plans, despite it being the night of the year for you. The party was over, your heart was aching, and you felt like you could crumble to the ground like an old building. It was just one of those days that you didn't feel like yourself—and what better time than the night you're supposed to be anything but true.

After grabbing a hat to keep your ears warm, you waltzed your way down the hallway, only to cause hongjoong to peek out of his doorway. He looked tired.

“Where are you going?” he asked you softly, his voice scratching your brain just right.

You didn't realize you were picking at your fingers until he looked down at them. You put your hands at your sides, and looked up at him. “To go get candy for the tick-or-treaters tonight,” you hummed as a response, staring into his gaze, getting lost in it for a moment too long.

He looked at your outfit, his eyes examining you the same way you looked at yourself—however, he wasn't critiquing. He was admiring. No matter what you wore, he looked at you like you were made of gold.

He nodded, tearing his gaze away from your eyes. “Okay.”

You turned around after it felt too awkward, feeling as though something was ruining your relationship. There was no warmth, no comfort. It all happened after you gave him that rose, holding back your feelings like he held back his tears.

Time passed like the world was spinning too fast, and you went on with your day as if it was any other day.

When you came back from the store, you poured the candy into a cute little serving bowl, stealing a chocolate bar like you were a kid again. A part of your soul ached as you stared down at the bowl, thinking about the days when you were the one grabbing the handfuls and eating too much candy. Back to the time when life was simple.

Hongjoong was in his studio, and you heard the dull vibrations of his voice. He was singing like he always did, but this time, you wanted him to sing for you.

You ignored it as best as you could and forced yourself to dress up in a slightly more modest pirate outfit, and after the sun began to set, you found yourself sitting outside on your porch alone. Bundled up in a blanket and a mug of hot tea in your hand, you waited patiently for the kids to come around for the candy.

Sirens blared loudly, an ambulance passing the street in front of you. You watched as the bright reds and whites reflected off the windows of the houses around you, and how the wind from it knocked more leaves to fall to their death.

You watched them crumble to the ground in front of you, small little feet stepping on them as they walked by your home. One little girl came up to you, her little shoes crunching the decaying life underneath them, and you looked up to her from your seated position.

“Trick or treat?” she asked you, her face covered in paint and her smile as bright as can be.

“Take a handful,” you murmured, forcing a smile onto your pirate persona. She smiled at you and tossed the candy into her bag, and you were too distracted to hear the door open behind you. The only sign was the brightened look on the girl’s face as she looked behind you.

“Another pirate?” she mumbled, dimples showing through her scarecrow face paint. “Is he your boyfriend?”

You hesitated, but shook your head. “Oh, no. He's just my friend.”

Hongjoong forced out a chuckle, and came up to sit next to you. “Happy Halloween,” he smiled, his leg bumping yours. You didn't shy away, but you didn't move any closer.

As the girl left, you sat in silence with hongjoong for what felt like ages. You smelled alcohol on his breath, wearing his mask like normal. You were dying to know his true feelings about everything. You lived with him for years, but yet, he knew everything about you and you knew very little about him.

A few more kids stopped, grabbed some candy, and left. As if the time flew by once again, the bowl was empty, and so was your heart.

“I have to go use the bathroom,” you let him know as you stood up. He looked from you to the empty bowl, but made no effort to come inside with you.

“Okay,” he nodded, not looking in your direction. You left his presence, needing some air.

You walked towards the bathroom that was past his studio until you noticed the door open. Pumpkin was sitting on a pile of papers, and knowing how finicky your hongjoong was, you quickly entered the sacred grounds to get the cat off the pile. With your luck, you startled pumpkin, causing her to let out a scared yelp and leap off the pile, knocking over all the sheets at once.

You let out a gasp, followed by a groan, as you quickly tried to pick up the papers. That is, until you came across some lyrics of what it looked like a song…

A song for a lover?

It was titled, halloween, and as your eyes ran across the words on the page, a few stood out. Words like roommate, coffee, watching movies, hugs, dinner, and home. His home was her. His home was with her, his love was for her.

You were his…home? His love?

“Put that down,” Hongjoong growled behind you, but his tone of voice wasn't harsh—it was defeated. “It’s nothing special.”

“I think otherwise, joong,” you murmured softly, still reading the lyrics as they made your heart race. “Is this about…me?”

He came up beside you, his face right next to yours. He ripped the paper out of your hands and held it behind his back as you turned to him. “Yeah,” he breathed, but shook his head. “But it means nothing now, okay? So don't misunderstand—”

“Can you sing it for me?”

He stared at you, wide eyed. You both were in your pirate garb, his one eye covered by the eye-patch. You thought back to your dream of lifting it up, kissing him, holding onto him….

He didn't say much. He just stared for a while, unsure about your motives. Clearly you made it known that he was just a friend to you, but little did he know that you wanted everything under the sun with him.

He sighed, and sat down onto his bench in front of the keyboard. As his painted fingers slid across the keys, he started to sing to the lyrics that were meant for you. He bled through the words, telling the story of you and him, sharing a space, and putting on masks. It was halloween, the song was called halloween, and he sang with all the love in the world to you.

It had to be a dream. There was no way he was sitting in front of you, tipsy, and proclaiming his years-long love for you through a song. It was unreal, and when he stopped singing and turned to you, you saw the concern drip off his face as he looked at your expression.

He swallowed hard, standing up to face you. “Listen, don't think much of it. Like I said, it’s worthless now and—”

You gripped the back of his head and kissed him, holding him tightly as he stood stoically. After a few moments, you pulled away, leaving his lips a mess of red from your lipstick. “I–I’m sorry. That was a little—”

He took a step forward, like you were his prey. Gripping your arm, he pulled you to him, his lips on yours with no spare of a glance. Your hands found their home in his hair, gently sliding off his eye patch with your fingers. You kissed each other as if it was your last—as if this would only last the night.

You pulled back, resting your forehead on his as his hot breath kissed your features.

“I…what does this make us?” you gulped, counting his breaths, happy that he was living at the same time as you. “Its…its halloween…we can be, you know,” you got distracted as his gentle hands caressed your arm. “We can be anything.”

He smiled at you, love dripping from his gaze. He kept his hold tight on you, and mumbled his answer into your head.

“I’ll be whatever you want,” he breathed into you, and you found yourself melting into his hold.

His lips, his hands, his breath—everything collided. Two became one once again as he kissed you, kissed you so hard that you lost your breath. Your hands meshed within the rust of his hair, your fingertips painted in orange. His tongue met the roof of your mouth the same way your hands gripped at him, repeating his words over and over in your mind.

Whatever you want…

I’ll be whatever you want…

He lifted you up then, holding onto your body tightly to set you onto his desk, knocking off all his music sheets and crumbled up papers. His finger nails pierced against the bare skin of your thighs, his lips now on your neck as you fiddled with the buttons on his shirt.

He let out a moan as your fingers grazed his chest, finally pulling his shirt off his body to admire him. You let out a content sigh, wanting to taste the soju on his lips. Not yet, though, as his hands gripped the corset you were wearing, untying the laces and ripping it off your body, slightly rough but his touch was smooth.

You sat on his desk, ready for him to claim you as his own. Even if it was just for the night, you weren't thinking long term as his strong arms pulled your dress right over your head, leaving you only in your underwear.

“My god, I always wanted to do that,” he groaned, his lips meeting your neck as his hands trailed down your stomach to meet the waistband of your underwear. As his fingers slipped underneath the fabric, you arched your back into his touch.

“You like that, huh?” he whispered in your ear as you looked down at the bulge of his pants, seizing the opportunity to get him flustered. “You turn me the fuck on, you have no idea, y/n.”

Your hands brushed his erection, a sinister smile on hongjoongs pained face. He smacked his head into yours, his teeth bright white as he showed them. “Careful, baby. I’ve been waiting years to fuck you. I don't want it to end too quick.”

“Years?” you breathed into his lips your head tilted up as his hand found its home and started to slide the underwear down your hips.

He didn't answer. What he did do was pull them down your legs, and then as soon as they were off, he kneeled down onto the ground in front of you, treating you like a peasant would treat his goddess. His lips met your heat, the warmth from his breath stirring your mind into mush. You gripped his russet hair, fisting it as his tongue slipped inside you. You hissed, throwing your head back as you saw stars.

He worked magic, his lips becoming something you never wanted to lose. Eventually, he found his place above you, his fingers tilting your head back to look up at him. His hands reached out to pull your bra off, giving you a look of affirmation before gently lifting it over your head.

He stood in front of you, vulnerability showing through like sunlight through a window. He was your sun—your warmth—your love.

No words were spoken after that. You unbuttoned his pants while he kissed your lips, entangled in each other's love and infatuation. He carried you up the steps then, gently setting you down onto his bed, the creak of the mattress springs underneath you. He kissed your forehead, your nose, your temple, your lips, and trailed all the way to your breasts, admiring them like they were all he dreamed about—you were all he dreamed about.

You looked into his stare, his dark brown eyes above yours. You felt the heat of his body, and every breath he took. You wanted to count his breaths every day for the rest of your life until they stopped. You wanted to entangle yourself into his soul, spinning yourself around his finger like the red string of fate.

You wanted to make love to him every night, crawl into his embrace like he was the only human on earth. He was like a warm fireplace on a cold winter day, the fall of snow during spring. And after all, at this moment as your eyes met before he entered you, his lips moved, your senses heightened as he spoke.

“I love you,” he hummed, his eyes sparkling in the dark. You were his source of light.

After those words, he collapsed into you, his hips meeting yours and your lips meshing together. He didn't give you a chance to respond—maybe he was scared of rejection. He had nothing to worry about, and as he made love to you, you ran your hands through his hair to keep it out of his eyes.

You moaned as he rhythmically crashed into you, his lips parted and his arms tightened. You wrapped your legs around his thin waist, his upper body crashing into yours, forehead to forehead, lips to lips, chest to chest, hearts beating the same beat. His hands found your breasts, grabbing them as if they would break under his touch. He trailed his lips down your neck to your chest, kissing you sensually, tastefully, treating you like a work of art.

Your vision became hazy as you reached your high, and after he noticed your climax, he smiled to himself, letting out a moan. “Good girl,” he praised, and then flipped you over onto your stomach with a groan. You positioned yourself for him, back arched as his fingertips glided against your skin. His hands ran down your sides, his hips meeting your ass as he gripped it with his hands, entering you once again like it was his home.

“I want this every day,” he pushed into you, his breaths hitting the back of your neck, causing you to tumble onto the bed, unable to hold yourself up from his strength. “Every night. For the rest of my life, I want you.”

You wanted to cry out of happiness. You wanted to turn around and tell him you want it too, that you’ve loved him since that one day he held you. He was all you ever wanted; ever needed.

He fucked you, made love to you, as if it was the last time. His body clashed into yours, letting out the most beautiful moans. He was born to be yours, you were born to be his. Your bodies fit like pieces of a puzzle, and as he reached his ending, you gripped onto the pillow underneath you, crying out as he came into you, him spilling his love for you, through words and actions.

He breathed and breathed and breathed, his body collapsing onto yours, afraid to crush you. He pulled out of you slowly, finding his spot next to you on his bed. Your eyes met, then your lips, and then your love.

“I love you, too,” you smiled at him, your eyes blurry as his beauty took over. His hair was stuck to his forehead from all of his sweat, and you reached out to brush it behind his ears.

He was breathing heavily, staring into your eyes like they were the most beautiful color he’s ever seen. To you, it might be bland. To him—they were the only eyes that mattered. The only window he wanted to look through.

His arms snaked over your naked body, his touch feeling like ecstacy. You fell asleep deeply for the first time in ages, his soft voice humming you to sleep as the moon began to fall.

—

The next morning was just like any other. You woke up alone, no Hongjoong in sight, but the warm, delicious smell of breakfast reminded you that it was all real. You looked down, no clothes, no underwear, just you. The sheets were crumbled all messily, your heart feeling just the same.

You smiled after looking around, noticing little things around his room that just made sense. Everything about him made you feel butterflies.

You made your way down the stairs after tossing on one of hongjoong’s shirts, hoping to stir something up with him. It almost feels unreal with the way you proclaimed your love so quickly, and after all this time of hiding your feelings, it was now all out in the open.

The minute you reached the kitchen, you found hongjoong sitting in the chair next to a plate of food meant for you. He sat with his legs crossed and his eyes on you. His pretty hair was messy, and his lips were curled up in a smirk.

You smiled at him shyly.

“Oh no,” he shook his head at you, crossing his arms over his chest. He looked you up and down, smirking even more as he noticed the shirt that covered your upper body. You decided against pants, only coming out in your underwear and his shirt. “Don't go all shy on me after last night. And not when you look like…this.”

You cautiously walked towards him, and the minute you reached him, he tugged you into his lap, holding you with a look of admiration.

“About last night—”

“If you're going to say it was a mistake, I will politely decline, angel,” he kissed your lips, lingering just a moment too long. It was blissful, despite your morning breath. “I need you. I can't be without you.”

I need you…

Did anyone need you? Was he the first person to actually want you?

You smiled sadly, but his expression made you feel comfortable. “I was just going to say that I enjoyed it,” you hummed, nodding. He chuckled at that, his arms tightening around your waist.

“I’m sorry I couldn't tell you sooner. About my feelings, I mean,” I babbled on, leaning his head onto you. “I got a little jealous with Yunho, and I couldn't stand the idea of you with someone other than me. And when you kissed me at the party, I got worried that you only made a drunken mistake—”

“Wait,” you raised your eyebrows, pulling back to look at him. “I actually kissed you at the party? I thought I dreamt that…” you spoke softly, subconsciously lifting your hand to your lips.

Hongjoong stared up at you for a moment and then smiled. “Ah, yeah. But you were so out of it. You passed out on my shoulder right after you made out with me.”

Your eyes widened. “Oh my god, I’m sorry.”

He shook his head. “No, no. It's okay,” he swallowed, looking a bit nervous. “I…want to take care of you when you're drunk, and when you're sick, and when you're depressed. I want to hold you while you have your panic attacks—even though I wish I could take them all away.”

You sat and listened, watching the way his eyes bounced around the room as the food got cold. It wasn't even a thought in your mind as he told you he loved you without even saying the three words.

“I want to go through everything with you. Good, bad, whatever. As long as it's with you,” his eyes met yours then. “And as long as I can kiss you whenever.”

You picked apart his expression—his eyes were glassy and his lips were parted. His smile was a bit worrisome, as if he wasn't sure you wanted what he did. You smiled then, and gave him a kiss on the forehead.

“I’ll be expecting showers of kisses,” you smirked, kissing his lips like they were made for you. “And shower sex. I love shower sex.”

He laughed musically, his voice always so soothing to you. You knew that your time in this house was ending, as this was the last year before graduation. You weren't sure what time had planned for you, but you hoped it was him.

There’s a time for everything. Your time with hongjoong was predetermined by fate. He was your soulmate if they existed. He was your sun, your moon, your universe. You spun around him like the moon to its earth, orbiting his existence like it was your destiny.

—

two years later,

Halloween Night

You stood on the steps of the townhouse, your phone clutched tight in your hands and a bag of candy in the other. Your heart ached the same way your feet did from all your running around at the hospital, your mind falling apart at its seam.

You stared at the red door, decorated with a festive autumnal wreath with the letters of your names.

You pushed through the door, your senses in overdrive as the smell of apples took over as a candle burned on the table. Sitting next to it was pumpkin, staring at the flame, and then at you, letting out a meow.

It was two years since you got with hongjoong. Two years before you graduated. Two years before you got swamped in work, having a hard time balancing work and romance.

You and hongjoong kept the house, deciding it was your home. You had nowhere else to go if he wasn't with you, and you graduated in love and in bliss.

Two years later, a mess of love and homemade meals, watching movies together, commuting together, sleeping together, you had a ring on your finger, a permanent mark of your love that would last forever.

You weren't planning anything—you let life take the reins. The love of your life stood in the living room, in his hands was a single rose from the mini mart—the same type of shitty rose you bought for him to ruin your relationship. Clearly it failed, as he stood, love in his eyes and a smile on his lips.

“Hi, angel,” he whispered, his hair no longer orange. It was his natural black, grown out and curled around his ears. He was beautiful in every way, a knight in shining armor, holding out a decaying rose as the leaves fell from the trees beyond the window. “Happy two years.”

You scoffed, setting down the bag of candy onto the table next to pumpkin. “A rose?”

“Mhm,” he murmured, smiling brightly.

“Why?” you inquired jokingly, walking closer to him.

He smiled prettily, his heart upon his sleeve. You watched him study you, look at every part of you. He loved you dearly, and as did you. You got a bit of butterflies from the deja vu, lost in the ocean of his eyes and drowning in the sea of his love.

He held out the rose.

“Because you're the love of my life.”

#hongjoong #kim hongjoong #ateez fic #hongjoong smut #hongjoong fic #hongjoong x reader #ateez #halloween au #best friends to lovers #roomates #hospital au #ateez smut

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kissofthemis · 3 months

Text

"I'm surprised you're still in one piece."

Any other day, Luke would have fired back with a sarcastic reply of his own.

Today, he simply did not have the energy.

Nor the heart.

"Keep walking if you still want to stay in one piece," he growled without bothering to lift his gaze from the flowers in front of him. The thick bitterness in his voice should have been enough to intimidate most people, but the undisguised threat that saturated his words and flavored his tone was enough to make even the bravest, cockiest folks turn tail and run for the hills.

Marius von Hagen, evidently, was the bravest, cockiest, and perhaps dumbest of them all.

"For what it's worth," Marius continued talking as he plopped down next to Luke, either ignoring the latter's threats or simply believing he was above them. "I wasn't trying to eavesdrop. I didn't even know you'd be there."

"If you were a decent man, you would have left."

Marius folded his arms over his chest and pouted in response, a sight that looked almost comical as he towered over Luke even when the two of them were sitting. "Are you saying I'm not decent?" he protested. "I'll have you know, I walked away and put my headphones on until I saw you leave. Then I went in to talk to my attorney about my business' legal matters, as is my right." He was clearly indignant about the attack on his character.

Luke simply rolled his eyes. "She's Pax's attorney, not yours. There's a difference."

"She's both."

"Pretty sure that's a conflict of interest, Mr. President."

Luke didn't expect his malicious sarcasm to be met with an amused chuckle. "Good. You're being a brat again."

The hairs on the back of Luke's neck stood up. "Who are you, of all people, calling a brat?" he snapped, finally turning to glare at Marius for the first time since he'd arrived. "You're such a spoiled, whiny piece of work that actual kids think you're bratty!"

"Are you saying I'm a role model?" Marius purred as the corners of his lips curled into a smirk. "Aww, Luke, I didn't know you thought so highly of me." Suddenly his shoulders loosened up and his eyes softened. "You were so gloomy that it was unnerving. If you're making snide remarks again, then you must be feeling a little better, right?"

Flabbergasted.

Luke was so taken aback that he could almost smell the smoke coming out of his ears as the gears in his brain turned frantically in an effort to think of a way to respond. Normally he was quick to react to just about any situation; his field work as an NSB agent required him to be able to act on the fly in life or death situations.

But in a situation like this, without that adrenaline pumping through him? Not even Raven was immune to getting flustered and floundering.

"How did you know I'd be here?" Not wanting to respond directly, Luke tried to ask as casually as he could.

He winced internally. Being indirect and evading difficult topics was what got Luke into trouble with her in the first place, wasn't it? Wasn't he only proving that despite his promises to the contrary, promises he had made just this morning in his desperation to get her to stop crying, he was already falling back on his old bad habits?

Marius didn't seem to notice or care. "I didn't," he answered bluntly. "I just thought the hydrangeas looked nice."

The hydrangeas?

Luke turned his attention back to the colorful array of flower clusters before him. He reached forward and began to gently rub some baby blue petals between his thumb and forefinger. "I guess they do."

"This time of year," Marius continued, "I find a lot of inspiration by spending time in nature." Was he still talking to Luke, or did he just enjoy hearing the sound of his own voice? "The scenery, the colors, the shapes. It's crucial for a painter to stay inspired, after all."

A half-hearted smirk crept onto Luke's lips. "Why don't you just ask your tutor Dr. Richter to host a study session in his garden?"

Marius let out a loud snort and lifted his chin defiantly. "Please. You think I trust Vyn not to stab me with a pair of garden shears the moment I turn my back to grab my books?"

That brought a genuine snicker out of Luke, and Marius couldn't help but laugh along with him. It was a brief, blissful moment, and then the two fell into silence once again.

"For what it's worth," Marius began, as he plucked a nearby petal off a purple hydrangea, "you totally should have told her earlier."

So he was planning to talk about that. Luke grimaced.

Before he could defend himself, fire back, or coordinate any sort of response at all, Marius continued speaking. "But she's not gonna hate you for it. She'll get over her anger real fast."

The confidence in his tone rubbed Luke the wrong way. "You think you know her better than I do? We grew up together," he pointed out, and he didn't care to hide the acerbic notes underlying his words.

"I never said that, guard dog," Marius huffed. "But I know a thing or two about grief." A despondent chuckle left his lips--it was a sound without an ounce of joy, but rather one that suggested 'I have to laugh, or else I will cry.' A sound of desperation.

"Would it have been better to avoid her and die far away, leaving her only with happy memories from your childhood? Would it have been better if she never got to know the person you are now? Or... would it have been better if she got to know you after being gone for so long, to reconnect with you, to see all the ways you'd changed but also the ways you'd stayed the same?" Marius pulled his knees into his chest, and he gingerly plopped the purple petal on top of them. "Ultimately it boils down to one question: Would she have grieved more if she never knew you, or if she knew you and had the chance to love you?" He cast a quick glance at Luke before rapidly averting his gaze to look back at the flowers.

For now, Luke would pretend he didn't see the tears brimming in the corner of Marius' eyes.

"I never knew my mother." Marius rested his chin on top of his knees, trapping the sole lavender petal there. "I think my father and Giann have suffered more, because they knew her. They miss someone who they loved, because they can see the spectre of her in everyday life in a way that I can't.

"But Giann has told me that he feels more sorry for me, because he wishes I had gotten the chance to know her, make memories with her, and love her. He feels my grief must be worse, because all I have are stories from others without any 'love' to call my own."

Marius paused briefly. Luke could hear the shuddering in his breath as he inhaled deeply, and he could see the way Marius' chest trembled as he slowly let that breath go.

"Maybe we're both right. Maybe we're both wrong. And until you came back from the capital and ran into her again.... You already knew you were dying. You just didn't know whether you should tell her or not."

Marius lifted his head and straightened his back to his full height.

"But she knows now, dammit, so you'd better not run away. She knows you, and she knows what you're going through, so you'd better make sure she has enough happy memories to last an eternity. Until the day she sees you again."

Marius' chest was rising and falling at a rapid pace, and he curled back in on himself once he'd said his piece.

"... because if she cries that she didn't get enough time with you, my first order of business in the afterlife will be to kill you a second time." He sighed. "Unless I hire a medium and pay enough to compensate some spirits for haunting you on that end--"

"I won't let you down."

Luke spoke at last. His voice sounded foreign to him, though, with the conviction and confidence it held. He had never felt so comfortable with his fate, but now... for the first time, he finally felt a burden lift off his shoulders.

Whether telling her or not was the right move was no longer the question. She knew, so Luke had to make the best of the situation.

"You know... you're smarter than I gave you credit for."

"Dude, you suck at compliments."

Another shared laugh, a bit lighter than the first, with a backdrop of powder blue, pale purple, and pastel pink hydrangeas blooming around them.

#tears of themis #tot #luke pearce #marius von hagen #mariluke #IT'S EXTREMELY SUBTLE BUT LIKE... IF YOU SQUINT #tw grief #this has been rattling around my head for days thank you for tolerating my sillies

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skinnywalker · 2 years

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On my knees, BEGGING

For the slasher ladies and their female reader to go on a cute little date because theres not enough of these.

Honestly tho! There are so few 😖

Female slashers on a date with their girlfriend

Tiffany Valentine

Tiffany doesn't really care what you do as long as your together

You could be trapped in a metal crate and she will still be happy

She adores you to death! (Or amputation)

But if she had to choose she likes going to the mall for shopping dates.

If you wear make up, you'll stop in sephora and try on their free samples

If you wear braids she'll pick out different colors and you'll sit and watch a movie while she braids you

She'll carry all your bags just make sure to get her a few things too

She loves you so much she just wants to she you happy

Amanda Young

Amanda doesn't like to share you with the world

She sees the world as a horrible place full of ungrateful people

So when you go on dates you go late at night

She takes you to a park and you sit and watch the stars

Sometimes you talk but most if the time she's just listens to your breathe

These nights don't happen often since you both work so much but that's what makes them special

Carrie White

Library dates.

Carrie just like the comfort of you two snuggled together reading

You bring her tea and cookies as sink into big soft chairs

Sometimes she falls asleep in your arms sighing happily

You've taught her so much that her mother refused to through books

It's a good bonding time for both of you

Carrie is slowly learning to trust you

Jennifer Check

Jennifer wants to go to a drive in movie!

She wants to lay in your jacket barely watching the movie while she loving stares at your face

You only get half way through before she attacks you with kisses and you pull her into your lap

After the movie you go out and buy slushies

Ginger

Ginger just wants to do what you want to do!

Want to got get pizza? She's down. Want to the roller park? If it's what you want.

She just wants to sat and adore you

Sometimes you do get pulled into a concert or a photographing night with Brigitte but that's only a few times

Most of your dates are just hanging out and cuddling while some rock band is blasting

Amber Freeman

Amber wants to drink and dance

But mainly she wants to show you off

Show those assholes that she has this goddess for a girlfriend

She likes movies but mostly in the comfort of your own home

You might also just have walking dates where you get ice cream or popsicles

She lives to see the face of Richie when she pulls you into a deep kiss

Baby firefly

Baby wants to picnic in the graveyard

She pulls out her sunscreen puts up her hair and gets a nice tan

Yes she is shirtless and yes only you get to she her like this 😏

She brings a nice lunch of sandwiches and fruit

Tiny even packed you a cookie! How nice!

She talks about all the tourist she got rid off while she fawns over your pretty exposed shoulders

If you burn easily she'll insist to rub on your sunscreen for you

You cuddle together watching the sunset and listening to the cicadas

Angela Baker

Angela just walks to hike with you

She wants pick flowers and make flower crowns

She wants to hold your hand while the sounds of nature shrouded you

Your fingers interlocked, music playing of a walkman as you two throw rocks across a pond

Sometimes you play dolls in her yard and make them little dresses out of scrap clothe

She brings out lemonade with little mint leaves in them for flavor

Mainly she just wants to be outside with you

#slasher x reader #slasher thirst #baby firefly #baby firefly x reader #amber freeman #amber freeman x reader #amanda young #amanda young x reader #carrie white x reader #carrie white #angela baker #angela baker x reader #ginger snaps #ginger x reader #Jennifer check #jennifer check x reader #tiffany valentine #tiffany valentine x reader

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cairoscene · 8 months

Note

do you have any fic recs? (anything w tim joins the batfam early or ghostbat or anything in general tbh!)

hello i absolutely do! i'm going to try to give a good scattering of different fics and hope one of these is new to you/what you're looking for.

for "tim joins the bat family early" these are some of my favorites:

5 Times Tim Spends the Night at Wayne Manor + 1 Time He Comes Home by motleyfam. this fic is inspired by Latchkey by goldkirk and birds fly in every direction by distracted_dragon, and all three are really excellent fics and great entries into this particular tag. all three of these fics are ones i turn to when i want prime hurt/comfort tim pangs with plenty of family fluff and shenanigans.

Brother Wanted by Vamillepudding. i read this one early on in fandom and i still laugh when i think about it. premise is that jason mistakenly answers tim's advert for a brother and ends up with tim paying him to be his brother. it's full of a very precocious and lonely tim trying his hardest to keep jason around, while jason is desperately trying to figure out how to get this kid adopted before he runs out of money. truly a delightful fic.

Like a Hinge, Like a Wing by Ultrageekatlarge. cw for child abuse and peril, so mind the tags but imo this is a work of art. genuinely one of the best paced and well-written fics out there. i suppose it's technically not tim joining the family early but rather an AU where jason never died, so tim never had the chance to replace him; instead he finds himself under the care of a horrible uncle after his parents die, and in desperation, he turns to the only person who can help: batman.

the Surveillance series by smilebackwards. cheating again bc technically this is just an AU where jason didn't die and tim is a civilian, so it's got the flavor of a different joining-the-family dynamic, plus added timkon delightfulness. this is my go-to for highly competent and extremely lonely tim drake content.

as for ghostbat, it's an extremely small tag, but it's got some excellent fics:

Miscommunication by OkayAristotle. pretty sure this is the first fic in the ghostbat tag, and somehow it got them prefect right from the start. the petty banter and ease with which they interact is phenomenal.

break me shake me devastate me by pendulum_north. some great angst with a small helping of comfort! as well as just a good overall look at the more tragic side to ghostbat.

i used to waste my time dreaming of being alive (now i only waste it dreaming of you) by nygmamale. bed-sharing! pining! banter! angst! there's something about how they both go out of their way to spite the other in this fic that really gets me.

The First Warm Thing by Noknowname. absolutely aching ghostbat domesticity and old men being gross and in love.

and i'll throw in a few of my other favorite random DC fics just for the heck of it:

A Meditation on Railroading by eggmacguffin. this remains one of my all-time favorite fics. tim gets stranded and chooses to freight-hop his way back to gotham, and guess who ends up on the same train? "baby wipes jason" is still spoken with reverent and hushed tones in my groupchat regularly.

Stargazer by lemonadegarden. my favorite comfort reread jason fic. jason breaks his leg and gets stuck at the manor while recuperating. honestly it's rare to find a fic that really lets jason feel as young as he is. i think he's 19 in this fic and he feels so very lost and young and hurt in a way that really heals me.

Overcoming Our Antecedents by Batbirdies. jason gets temporarily de-aged, and bruce has feelings about it. one of my cornerstone jason and bruce fics, mostly bc it contextualizes bruce and jason's relationship pre-jason's death in a way a feel many fics don't bother with. it's really really heartwarming.

The Jingle Jangle Morning by audreycritter. robin-era dick goes on a field trip and bruce has emotions. i think about this fic all the time tbh. it really sells bruce as a young, committed, and sweet father who really just wants to make sure dick is okay.

Tap Out by coyote_nebula. jason gets poisoned. oopsie. this whole series is excellent but i love this one for the way it builds up jason as a brother and a son, and the flashbacks to jason's early days after he was adopted by bruce. i truly wish there were more fics about newly adopted jason but what this fic offers scratches that itch for me.

buy back the secrets by sundiscus. in case you haven't heard this is the Timkon Fic of All Time. a 5+1 of times kon saved tim drake that has everything. identity shenanigans! tim and bruce pangs! kon and clark pangs! tim being extremely competent and extremely lonely! kon being extremely lonely and also pretty competent. this is technically a wip so i hope you'll forgive me for reccing it but it's really great and also totally worth it bc fer is absolutely 100% going to deliver and it's just. very good.

#asks answered #fic recs #i worked on this all morning instead of actually working. hubris #ty anon i hope these suit your needs

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artbyblastweave · 3 months

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hello. I am in the middle of doing My Take on vampires and would appreciate your thoughts on Them in fiction. they don't seem to pop up more than occasionally in superhero media, but also you are pretty widely read & they have noticeable Eras/Tendencies that I can see.

I'm definitely not as much of a vampire guy as I'm a Superhero guy, so all my opinions on vampires should be taken with a grain of salt, and with the knowledge that a lot of this is stuff I've picked up through Osmosis and the occasional lit-review for that one class in college. But here goes-

One of my potentially more controversial takes about Vampires is that I think Vampires (and adjacent creatures like werewolves) are great at capturing the emotional truth of being part of a marginalized group, or sometimes just for being subaltern- the world against you, people make you feel like you're wrong for existing, that you're dangerous, etc.- and this is why they go gangbusters both on this website and in general. But the narrative often faceplants for me if it tries to portray vampires as a literal marginalized group because all of that stuff is often objectively true within the fiction in a way that it isn't true of real-life marginalized groups. It's a souped-up version of the X-men problem, because most of the X-Men aren't obligate cannibals! The result of this is that there have been several times I'm consuming something vampire-related that wants me to primarily sympathize with the vampires, and meanwhile I'm going "geez, that's a rough deal, but I think you all need to be killed on purely utilitarian grounds, sorry."

(I do also get the sense as well, right, that this is inextricably tangled up in the fact that a lot of foundational vampire literature was kind of just taking a lot of the horrible lies people tell about the scapegoat group du jour to justify their oppression and then making a guy of whom these things were objectively true. I get the impression, at a distance, that Dracula demonstrates like fourteen different flavors of "Those Depraved Easterners Are Coming For Our Women," although to truly lock in that Take I'm gonna have to read the thing instead of just absorbing it through Tumblr Osmosis whenever Dracula Daily is running.) There are ways to thread this needle, the big one of which is to just sand down the negative externalities of vampirism. Have them feed on animals or voluntary donors or make the human predation thing an in-universe slanderous fiction to begin with. Have them feed on exclusively on quote-unquote "criminals," if you have the right unexamined assumptions about the validity of the death penalty. Go the Elder Scrolls route, where drinking blood isn't necessary to survive but is necessary to maintain a human appearance, thus ensuring that the most morally conscientious vampires are the ones most likely to be identified as vampires and scapegoated by the angry mob. The issue I sometimes take with this is that the act of implementing a "fix" of any kind can sort of broadcast that you're trying to have your cake and eat it too- that you're cutting away the ideatic core of what makes vampires interesting when divorced from metaphor, taken objectively- that they're living trolley problems. As others have said, if you sand them down too much, what are you getting out of a vampire story that you couldn't get from a Tolkien Elf, or from Batman?

A fictional group which I've never really had this issue with, though, is Zombies, in the Romero tradition. When a work wants to construct Zombies as a primarily sympathetic group, it's much easier for me to get on board with that without feeling like the core Vibe has been compromised. This is because there's actually a fairly recent source text for zombies in the form of Romero's Living Dead films, and a major component of the Living Dead films is how much it sucks without recourse to become a zombie.

I was working on a post once, which I never finished, about how there are like, three-to-four vectors of horror that zombies can embody, which different works play up to different extents. While obviously one of the big straightforward ones is the fear that your entire community starts trying to kill you and eat you one day for basically no reason, a major anxiety on display in the original Living Dead trilogy- Dawn in particular- is that in the face of a weird but manageable problem human society would act as its own condemnation, totally failing to rise to the challenge-the horror is that we would let something as inept as a zombie be dangerous to us! Also present in those films? The horror of the idea that your daily routine is so rote and conformist that you wouldn't need to be sentient to continue to carry it out- that the biggest difference between you and them is that you can occasionally be evil in more interesting and evolved ways. And there's this fear of physically and mental degradation with zombies, which for a host of reasons I find extremely fucking relatable. The sense that your body is falling apart piecemeal, bits of you sloughing off when you turn the wrong way or turn your head too quickly. There's this fog over your thinking. The bone-deep knowledge that you used to be more, and are now fundamentally less capable- that there's just enough of you left to understand something is missing. (Read into my personal circumstances whatever you want from this.) Being a zombie is foundationally, fundamentally gross in a way that being a vampire isn't; when people try to do "sexy zombies" half the joke is the pairing of those two words. There's this horror comic Kieth Giffen did once called Tag which is basically entirely about the horror of being a corpse that could feel it; I think about that comic a lot. Anyway, because so much of the horror of zombism is external to whether they're actually attacking and killing people or not, you can totally sell me on zombies as an unfairly-maligned demographic in a way that's much harder for me to buy with Vampires- dropping the danger they pose to other people allows you to maintain so much more of the core of the thing than it does with Vampires, where it feels much more like you're tip-toeing around the tensions between Wanting To Have Fun and the moral horror inherent to what you're trying to have fun with.

#sorry for hijacking your ask to talk about zombies!#not sorry enough to not do it obviously #ask #thoughts #meta #vampires #zombies #untitled zombie project #night of the living dead

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phatcatphergus · 5 months

Text

Pac wasn’t one to sleep much, he usually he had things to distract him back on Quesadilla Island that would help work him to exhaustion or ease his brain into rest. Factories and experiments that got his brain working into the long hours of the night, or until Fit would force him to sleep.

In purgatory, his insomnia seemed to worsen and it wasn’t uncommon for him to go on late-night walks or do some grinding for the team while they slept. He was able to fill his time fruitfully and make sure that the rest of the team got the rest they deserved. They all pushed themselves to the limit and many of his teammates would end their days by collapsing into the nearest bed or sleeping bag.

The night after the event was different. His thoughts kept him up but the usual mining or farming couldn't distract him enough. Death and destruction filled his mind and consumed his thoughts. Every time he closed his eyes, he would see a teammate die and respawn just to run to their death again. Over and over again, the bodies of those he cared about were slain and strewn across the ground from both sides. He couldn't stop repaying the sights and sounds of people dying and fighting in a war they were forced into. The stench of blood seemed to be burned into his mind and he could still taste its coppery flavor every time he swallowed.

The worst was seeing how Fit looked comfortable on the battlefield, the way he seamlessly cut down the people they used to regard as friends. The way he fell into battle like it was second nature to him. The worst was when Tubbo stopped responding and filled the chat with kills and deaths. The way the younger would show up at spawn after death and not hesitate before running back onto the battlefield.

These thoughts were the ones that truly kept him up. The sight of Fit's blank expression after a kill or Tubbo's lack of response to anyone. He couldn’t stop wishing things were different, and that his family had some peace just one time. These thoughts and images tumbled in his head as he wandered down the seaside and walked among the ice that surrounded their base.

He walked and listened to the crashing of the waves as he attempted to rid himself of the excess adrenaline from today's event. Praying he can soon go back to the base and fall asleep to finally put an end to what was a horrific day. The sounds were calming until the wind changed direction and the sounds of crying joined the symphony of the waves.

Glancing around, Pac looked for whoever would be out this late at night. While it wasn't usual for the other members of his team to be up this late, it wouldn't be strange for someone to have the realization of the battle finally set in. Pac started to walk in the direction of the weeping and soon came across a crouched form at the waterfront. The closer he got, the more he recognized the pained cries and panicked gasps as those of his leader.

Pac slowly approached the younger and watched as he furiously clawed and scratched at his hands and fingernails, only stopping to wipe the tears from his eyes. Pac gently knelt to the ground and placed a hand on the young leaders back, to which the boy turned to face his friend with wide eyes full of tears.

“It’s not coming off Pac”, Tubbo's panicked voice broke the silence, “I can’t get their blood off”.

It was then that Pac noticed how dark the water was in front of them. The clear blue was now a dark maroon that was slowly soaking into his pants and staining the fabric. Tubbos hands continued to scrub and deepen the water beneath them while his breathing became more and more erratic. His hands shaking as they tore the skin from each other.

Pac slowly lifted Tubbo's hands from the water and took them gently between his. Pac tightened his grip on the bloodied hands of the teen and pulled Tubbo close to fully embrace him, feeling the hitching breaths as his arms closed around the teen. Pac held him close and allowed him to break down in his arms as the waves lapped at their legs. The sounds of the ocean being the only sound to drown out the fall of the young leader.

Once the younger had calmed down in his arms, Pac walked them both to the base with careful steps. He made sure his grasp remainder right around Tubbos shoulders the entire trek. They met a worried Fit at the entrance who ran to gather both of them in a tight embrace before guiding them down the elevator and into a welcoming bed.

No one slept soundly that night, nightmares and itching scars assured that no one would have peaceful dreams. But Pac awoke to his family within arms reach, something he cherished as the sun rose and the team along with it. And that was more then enough for him

#this is dogshit I know but it’s been in my head and I had to get it out #I’ve never written smth like this in my life and it shows #qsmp purgatory #qsmp soulfire #morning crew #morning crew deserve the world man #they are so family coded #qsmp pac #pactw #qsmp tubbo #tubbo #qsmp fitmc #fitmc #team soulfire

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sataara · 5 months

Text

Fanfic Recs! pt. 1

Hello hello! For yall that don't know me, I'm Billy or Sataara, either is fine, and I read a lot of submas fics so I decided to make a list of some recommendations that I have! A few things about me is that I can't deal with unhappy endings, heavy angst and/or any pairings where both brothers are with someone else (also no bl/nkship), so if you're looking for any of these types of fics, I'm sorry but you won't find it here :/

That aside, I'll make more than one post since this was getting kind of long, this first one are just multi-chapter fics! Most of these are either reunion fics or Ingo living after getting back from Hisui, with some exceptions! Gonna leave the actual description under the link with small personal notes on my opinion about them!

edit: added a few more!

Combūrere by Anonymous

Emmet doesn’t appreciate hearing his brother is dead. But if it takes everyone treating him like glass to let him fistfight a god, so be it. He’s an over-pressured steam boiler, waiting to explode. He’s already set up all the pieces, lined all his matchsticks one by one. The only thing left to do is set himself ablaze. In which Emmet becomes a vengeful spirit, reunites with Ingo, travels to an alternate universe, and fights a god. Just. Not in that order.

Words: 140,000 Chapters: 28/28

This fic got me hooked from start to finish, I was up until 5am at one point because I just couldn't put it down. Reunion with a lot of bumps in the road that only make the story more interesting and flashbacks that only add context making the fic more robust.

Last Train Home by StellarCoachman

Ingo arrived in Hisui far too early, settling in and making a life for himself there. Akari, his daughter, grows up alongside him and Lady Sneasler in the Highlands, developing a strong bond with Pokemon that serves her well when she decides to join the Galaxy Team Survey Corp. There, she meets an odd boy named Rei and takes part in the events that shape the history of the region itself. An unexpected encounter leaves her lost in an unfamiliar world. Meanwhile, Emmet has long since grown to accept his brother's presumed death, but still struggles on occasion. When he gets proof that his brother may actually be alive, he rushes off to see for himself, but he's not prepared for what he finds instead.

Words: 90,307 Chapters: 12/12

One of the many fics I'll share from this author, love their works very much and I really enjoy their different takes on their reunion! As a warning, though, this one can be very sad and it made me cry a few times too </3

Legends, ponderances, and then some. by An_Ephemeral_Walk

Of all the lands, all the regions, all the timelines, it was Unova that was chosen. It was Unova that was the first to lose someone to a mythical being outside the domain of Truth and Ideals. It was Unova that fell victim to the being already tormenting both the Sinnoh of now, and the Hisui of then. While it wouldn't be Truth or Ideals that would ultimately lead Giratina to regretting going along with Volo, it would learn the taste of regret and defeat all the same in many flavors. Stealing the partner of a fiery ghost is a lesson not learned yet, but it will be. Oh, it will be.

Words: 85,049 Chapters: 10/10

This one is a very interesting and enjoyable read, a lot of introspection, different hcs for how the characters met, just, really nice all around.

Elevated Railways by FluentInFangirl12

I'm a sucker for wingfics and I'm surprised that in all my submas fics, I haven't written one yet. This was inspired by @manchasma's wing au on tumble dot com and this specific post by @fang-tasmal (https://fang-tasmal.tumblr.com/post/682901862855426048/wing-au-time-i-like-the-traditional-wings-on-back) but im changing the lore and stuff a bit.

Words: 71,987 Chapters: 28/28

Wingfic! This one has a lot of uncle Ingo content, it's a really fun read and nice exploration of the setting with the "but what if wings?" trope added to that <3 Also, another author that has a bunch of fics I enjoy!

Ingo in Wonderland by PerpetuallySleepy

Falling for the second time, Ingo finds himself in a strange land… a strange wonderland. Well, it appears that there’s quite an adventure ahead of him. A weird and wacky one! All aboard!

Words: 71,058 Chapters: 30/30

This one I actually avoided for sometime thinking it wouldn't be something I enjoyed, but oh, I'm so glad I gave it a chance! What a fascinating and fun story! Its heart wrenching and different, I loved it all the way through!

Give Not In To Sorrow by Hare_Brained_Scheme

Something strange is going on in Hisui. There are reports of a man in white roaming the wildlands while leading a pack of Pokemon . Some say they're a mix of Pokemon, some claim they're a pack of zoroarks. Some swear that the man is none other than the amnesiac warden of the Pearl Clan. One thing is certain. Those who meet the man in white all report the same thing: He is looking for his brother. And he will not rest until he finds him.

Words: 70,551 Chapters: 12/12

This one I can not recommend enough, beautifully crafted story, completely gut wrenching, I've read it twice not counting the times I reread my favorite parts and cried a lot, mind the tags but do read it if you haven't already.

We Are Derailing by william_pkmn

Lucas is sent on a mission to investigate a sacred site to the Diamond clan. As added backup, he takes Ingo with and inadvertently unlocks his memories, deepening the mystery they have to solve together.

Words: 49,451 Chapters: 10/10

Another really interesting one! Following Ingo and Lucas as they look for clues about Ingo's past, the promise that things will work out by the end, the road to get there, it's worth the read!

A Rather Dramatic Displacement by NanixErka

Arceus grants the wish of the two heroes displaced in time However, perhaps they should have consulted Dialga with the time portion of this 10 years isn't too far off for humans, right? the scowling 5 year old didn't think so.

Words: 44,258 Chapters: 12/12

Really fun fic with Ingo and Akari being de aged and sent to the wrong time! Tons of shenanigans and also cute moments with dad Ingo <3

Autistic Elopement (if it sucks, hit the bricks) by Alienea, Juan_Pujol_Garcia

Stuck in the past? Textures suck? Tastes bad? Horribly understimulated? Just walk out! Hit the bricks! Leave through a portal with a kid you met a few months ago! What could go wrong?

Words: 42,008 Chapters: 6/6

Loooooove this one! Ingo relearning and slowly remembering his present time, while Emmet has to deal with everything that comes with Ingo being back but with no memories.

to the rift that tore us apart (and brought us together again) by Gibberish_Sorcerer

A distortion appears at a certain Unovan subway station, taking away Ingo to a different land. Emmet sees everything firsthand. (Emmet goes through a rift to Hisui, keeps his memories, and just sorta hangs out with Ingo. Also the entire plot of PLA happens with the twins going along for the ride.)

Words: 31,911 Chapters: 15/15

This one is really good! Such an interesting idea to explore with Emmet also in Hisui and now everyone has to deal with the fact that there's two of them kjdbsjakbvkjb

I Came Back For You by Elithesia_Autem_Danguarde

Upon experiencing a mysterious connection to another time and space, Warden Ingo regains his memories and makes the choice to return home to Unova where he belongs. However, he has to deal with not only his own emotions about being in Hisui for over a year, but how his absence impacted those that loved him. Settling back home isn't easy, but there are always people who stand behind him, particularly his precious little brother who missed him so dearly.

Words: 30,295 Chapters: 5/5

The care and love in this fic is so heartwarming but also a bit sad at times, I really enjoyed the concept and how the different conflicts were worked through!

A Change in Conductors by CuzReasons

Warden Ingo wakes up in a place he doesn't recognize. Subway Boss Ingo wakes up in a place he's only read about. Neither are where they should be.

Words: 23,654 Chapters: 9/9

This author is currently my favorite and I love their concepts and how they work through their stories and ideas, I recommend looking through their entire pokemon tag if you're looking for reunions and sibling antics! But talking about this fic in specific, the concept uses a common trope but the way it's used is fresh and so intriguing! I kept reading each chapter as soon as I got the notification, I cried happy tears reading it.

I am not there, I do not sleep. by digitalpen

How does it feel to be a dead man walking? The Pearl Clan found the body of a man in the icelands. His lips were blue and he had no pulse. When no one else in Hisui could identify him, his body was given to a blessed pokemon in lieu of a funeral. And yet, his spirit is seen walking about days later. Ingo haunts the highlands as a ghost. He has no home, no family, no memories, no life. What comes next?

Words: 20,249 Chapters: 5/5

This one messed me up and made me happy all over again, mind the tags and don't forget the promised happy ending!

The Warden, The Girl, & The Fox by Elithesia_Autem_Danguarde

While freely roaming Hisui, Akari stumbles upon a mysterious man in the Alabaster Icelands with a familiar face. As the two begin to form a friendship, Akari begins to realize there might be much more to this new man's presence than what it initially seems, as well as being the key to unlocking the lost memories of her friend, Warden Ingo.

Words: 68,621 Chapters: 15/15

Another one by Elithesia! I do love this one and their reunion is bittersweet at first but so comforting as it goes! The focus on this one is way more on Akari, but the brothers are the main point of the story!

Let It Simmer by EVTrainingUniversity

Having returned to the future, Ingo finds himself stumped on just who he was before Hisui as his memories still haven't returned. As such, until he can find his way back to his home station he must spend some time in the modern-day Sinnoh. Left sitting around for the most part while the investigators do their work, he decides to put a gift given to him by his friends in the past to good use by making a food recipe blog of traditional Hisuian dishes. It's by complete happenstance that Emmet stumbles upon his blog, having taken on cooking as a hobby during Ingo's absence.

Words: 6,538 Chapters: 4/4

This one is very special to me, food as a love language, as a healing tool, as a bonding experience, it's everything to me

Fear Not the Descent by ImpossibleJedi4

Some coping mechanisms formed in wake of a tragedy are healthy, some are unhealthy, and some are a mixture of the two. Emmet finds peace when he travels far below the surface of the earth, but then, at long last, someone finds him in return.

Words: 2,316 Chapters: 2/2

Very short one but it's so touching... Please do mind the tags if any of those concepts might make you uncomfortable, better safe than sorry

#my stuff #submas #fanfic recs #subway boss ingo #subway boss emmet

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itsgameofthronesimagines · 2 years

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hi!! your blog is so wonderful omg. i was wondering if you could write about fem!reader being jealous of jon’s close relationship with dany and him just reassuring her and all that? thank you <3

(Gif not mine)

Title: Young Hearts & Minds

Fandom: Game of Thrones

Pairing: Jon Snow x Fem!Reader

Warnings: light angst, tooth-rotting fluff, jealousy, sappy romance, childish crush/young love, etc.

Taglist: @gruffle1

Summary: Set during S7 and then onto S8, Y/n is about to be reunited with her first love, only for a dragon queen to appear to be a problem.

Author’s Note: Thank you for the wait, anon. I hope you enjoy!

(I do not consent to my works being reposted/copied)

Littlefinger likes to stick his fingers in every flavor of pie. When he told Sansa that there was a possibility that Jon wishes to marry Daenerys when he left for Dragonstone, Baelish knew that Sansa would eventually tell Lady Y/n.

And why wouldn’t she? Sansa has known Y/n since they were children and have just recently been reunited. Y/n was another ward of House Stark and was raised alongside Ned and Catelyn’s children ever since she was one and ten. Thankfully, she did not have to endure the horrors of the Starks' fates since she was sent back to her own family’s keep to spend time with her parents before winter began. When word spread of Ned Stark’s imprisonment and then further beheading, Y/n’s parents kept her at home, knowing it would be a death sentence for their daughter if she were sent back to Winterfell.

When she heard about Jon Snow reclaiming Winterfell from the Boltons, Y/n had to return to Winterfell years later. She had to see the great walls of the Stark castle for herself, along with the reclaimed owners. When she arrived, she was tearfully greeted by Sansa and reunited with Arya and Bran. When she questioned where Jon was, Y/n was told that he went South to Dragonstone. Sansa told her old friend everything that’s happened since they last parted, right down to the very smallest detail. When she spoke of the Northerners calling Jon their King of the North, Y/n smiled to herself, happy and proud for Ned Stark’s bastard son.

As children, Y/n often found herself in Jon’s company, despite their different stations in life. Sansa didn’t like Jon when they were younger, but Y/n had always been a kind and sweet young lady. She enjoyed Jon’s company and over time, as they got older, they both were beginning to realize that this friendship was turning into an infatuation with each other. Y/n could easily say that Jon Snow was her first love. Yes, she was young and childish, with butterflies in her stomach whenever Jon was around, but she never considered her attraction to him foolish.

When Littlefinger told Sansa that there was a possibility that Jon wishes to marry Daenerys when he left for Dragonstone, Baelish knew that Sansa would eventually tell Lady Y/n. He was no fool, and he saw the way Y/n smiled whenever Jon was mentioned. She even spoke of her excitement to see him again. However, when Y/n was told of the possibility of Jon and Daenerys forming a marriage alliance, her smile fell, and she even asked Sansa if she was certain. After that, Petyr watched as Y/n remained stoic and even ignorant on the topic right until his execution by Arya's hand.

~~~~~~~~~

Jon finally came back home after spending so much time in the South, and with him, he brought armies from all corners of the world. With Daenerys at his side and two dragons flying overhead, Sansa also took into account the armies of Unsullied and Dothraki. Once introductions had been made, she also recognized Varys and Tyrion Lannister at the Targaryen Queen’s side. The Lady of Winterfell had her guests settle in before supper and caught Jon up on everything he missed while he was away. When she recounted all the houses who had come to the North’s aid, she mentioned Y/n’s. Jon visibly stiffened, staring into the fireplace of his half-sister’s room.

“Is she well?”

Sansa was stunned for the moment, before breaking the news to him, “Why don’t you ask her yourself?”

Jon spun to stare at Sansa, struck dumb as she continued, “She was feeling ill before you arrived so she went to lie down. She’s in her old room now, like she never left.”

He immediately excused himself and left Sansa’s room, only to swiftly walk down the hall to what he remembered used to be Y/n’s. He could walk the way there blindfolded if someone asked him. He knew the route all too well. When he was young, he snuck to Y/n’s chambers as often as he could. Being young and naive, nothing scandalous came of it, but Jon and Y/n knew the fit Lady Catelyn would have if she ever found them innocently holding each other and kissing in bed.

What felt like hours was only minutes before Jon found himself just outside Y/n’s door, out of breath and feeling the sense of déjà vu. He felt as though he was frozen in a lake of icy cold waters again, like when he had fallen beyond the Wall, barely able to move or catch his breath. Fear struck him like a chill down to his bones, staring at the door between him and what he both feared and longed for. Before he could give into cowardice, he raised his fist and knocked.

Shuffling is heard behind the door, until the light pattern of footsteps draws closer and the door itself swings open, revealing the woman inside. Jon’s lungs begin to burn from lack of breath, completely blown away by the face of the young love he had once known. She was radiant, a woman grown with her face as lovely as the Mother, evolved from the goofy smiles and rounded cheeks from his childhood.

Y/n stared back at him with equal shock, breathless, standing still in her chemise and robe, loose hair falling over her shoulder like a waterfall. Neither of them speaks, taking in the other’s appearance like a goblet of wine. Slowly, Y/n rolls her lips and hesitants before breathing out, “Jon?”

A raging fire ignites and burns within him. Jon steps forward with his hands on either side of her face before she could blink. The kiss was fierce and full of unquenchable need, as if ice and fire was fighting for dominance, sizzling when making contact with one another. Y/n leaned into Jon’s kiss and his embrace, guiding him further into her room with her grip around his torso. Jon kicks the door shut with his boot as he breaks away from the kiss, catching his breath, all the while his gaze scans over her face standing so close to his. Their air mixed in the close proximity, unable to move away other than to tilt their heads to get a better look of each other.

“I thought I’d never see you again,” Jon’s rapsy whisper sent chills down her spine, a fleeting smile etched onto her kiss bitten lips.

Y/n’s eyes were wet with unshed tears, lowering her gaze to watch her fingers play with a loose thread on his warm furs, “And I you. I’ve heard stories... but I didn’t wish to believe them.”

“What did you hear?”

“Your death, of course,” her full body shiver does not go unnoticed, Jon’s hands moving down her neck and steadily holding her shoulders, the warmth of his palms bleeding into the fabric of her sleeves, “Then your ressurection... then your war against the Boltons. My father said it was a fool’s errand, that no one could possibly win against them.”

“I wish I could say the stories were false,” Jon kept his voice low and soft, as if the fire lighting the shadows of her room could hear, “Apart from us not winning against the Boltons, that is.”

Y/n tilt her head at him, puzzled, “What do you mean?”

“I did die, Y/n, but I was brought back by Stannis Baratheon’s priestess.”

She searched his eyes, trying to scout out the lie, but she couldn’t find one. Unless he learned how to lie in all these years, Y/n couldn’t help but believe him, despite how impossible his words sounded, “And what of your titles? Are you Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch or are you King in the North?”

“Neither, or both, I suppose. My watch ended when I died... and I now serve a new queen.”

The reminder of Daenerys Targaryen felt like lead dragging her heart down to her stomach. Y/n swallowed down her nerves and tried her best to strengthen her posture, keeping her eyes on the direwolf symbol on his chest, “Then I can imagine you are now free to own lands, take a wife, and father children. You could take your queen’s hand, of course, since you are no longer a bastard.”

Jon, as always, doesn’t quite catch the meaning of her words, nodding solemnly once a thought dawned on him. His once relieved, heartfelt expression drains into his usual brooding self, “Aye. I’m not a bastard. I am so much more than that... I have to tell you something, but you have to swear that you won’t tell a soul. Not even Sansa.”

The weight of his voice worried Y/n, but she otherwise straightened her spine with curiousity, “... What is it?”

“My true parentage came into question recently. Bran sent me a letter along with my friend Sam’s confirmation. They found proof that I am not Ned Stark’s true bastard. I’m his nephew.”

“Nephew?” Y/n rapidly tries recalling history of the Stark family tree in her head, information spouting out of her lips all at once as she tried to make sense of this, “You are too young to be Brandon Stark’s son, and unless he broke his vows, you couldn’t be Benjen’s. And Lyanna-!”

Y/n caught the brief bloom of pain behind Jon’s eyes before it disappeared, then she was able to put the pieces together from there, remembering the last days of Robert’s Rebellion as the history books say. Her eyes soften into pity, feeling the sadness and lost grief radiating off her first love, “Lyanna...”

“Lyanna Stark wasn’t kidnapped. Sam found proof that Rhaegar Targaryen annulled his marriage to Elia Martell and married Lyanna in secret. They had a son... but both of them had died before they could meet him. Lyanna knew that Robert Baratheon would kill her son and so she tasked her brother, Ned Stark, to care for him as his bastard.”

Y/n’s hand trails up to Jon’s face as her bewildered eyes take in this new bit of information. Her fingers lightly trail over scars she didn’t recognize from their shared childhood. Jon closed his eyes and leaned into the touch, catching the rays of her warmth and intently listening to the soft sound of her voice, “Then you are not a bastard... you’re not even a lord,” she was in disbelief, huffing a small gust of air as she took in the details of the man’s face in front of her, “You’re the Heir to the Iron Throne.”

“I don’t want it, Y/n,” Jon’s eyes open and his grip slowly tightened around her frame, afraid she would disappear, “My goal was to only ever protect the North. Daenerys knows this.”

“You told her?”

“I had to. She’s family.”

The words sink in, before Y/n scoffed to herself, hope slowly peeking through, “I thought...”

“You thought what?”

Y/n looked back up at him, suddenly feeling shy and foolish, “Sansa and I heard that you might wed her for the alliance.”

Jon couldn’t help the small, breathy laugh that escaped him, shaking his head, “I do love her, but not like that.”

He inched closer to Y/n until their bodies were touching, taking her breath away as Jon’s hands traveled back up her shoulders to cup her face again, forcing her to look at him directly in the eyes. He looked so vulnerable, his heart practically bleeding out through his eyes and words, “I have only ever loved one woman... and I knew I could never have her as long as I was a bastard and she was a lady. So I left. I joined the Night’s Watch. If I couldn’t have her, then I would never want another woman.”

“Jon...” Touched, Y/n leaned up into his space, closing her eyes as she kissed him once more, softer and slower, her heart beating rapidly in her chest. Their lips part again but neither pull out of the other’s space, noses brushing together as the lady gasped quietly, emotions quivering in her words, “I was afraid I had dreamt it all. When you left, I began to doubt you ever loved me.”

“I’m so sorry,” Jon tilt his head up and kissed her forehead, eyes squeezing shut with guilt and regret, “I knew I couldn’t say goodbye to you. It would be too much.”

She leans into his body more, feeling secured as his arms fully wrap around her. Grateful of this reunion, Y/n didn’t want to ever let go of him again, “So what happens now? Daenerys intends on taking the throne from Cersei. Will you help her?”

“Once we’ve defeated the Night King, yes.”

“And then what?”

“Then Daenerys rules. I have her written promise that the North will remain an independant kingdom, but we both have agreed that should she ever need aid, the North will answer the call.”

“So then you will still be King in the North?”

“If the Northerners allow it. I don’t think I made any of them happy by bringing two dragons, Dothraki hordes, a Targaryen Queen, and a Lannister here.”

Y/n laughs quietly, “They’ll forgive you once we survive the Long Night.”

“And... should we survive,” Y/n leaned her head back to stare into his knowing gaze, his eyebrows raised in silent question, “The King in the North will need a Queen?”

Warmth flooded her face and neck, a wide smile blooming. Y/n, feeling giddy and incredibly happy, felt a tease escaping her mouth as her eyes twinkle in mischief, “Oh? But you’re doing so well on your own!”

Jon smiled boyishly, a little bashful like he was when they were younger. His amused huff brushes her cheek as he leans close to her ear, “Not well enough. I could be so much more with you by my side. I would cherish the title of your husband far more than any title a kingdom could give me. Please, Y/n. I will not lose you again. When this is over... marry me.”

She closed her eyes, relishing in this moment, smiling even as she kissed the corner of his lips, “Of course, Jon... My Jon.”

~~~~~~~~~

A/N: It’s a little short, but I think it was sweet to write. Please support and leave a request in the ask box!

#jon snow imagine #jon snow x reader #jon snow imagines #jon snow #asoiaf imagine #asoiaf #a song of ice and fire #got #got imagine #got imagines #The Game of Thrones #game of thrones #game of thrones imagine #Kit Harrington

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theggning · 6 months

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Different anon than who spoke to sapphire-weapon but holy shit give me ALL of your metaltango thoughts from both OG and Remake please! That pairing is somethin' else.

ALL of them? Oh, anon, there's far too many for that... I do have plenty of thoughts though so if there's any specifics you might like do feel free to ask.

What I will do here is lay out some differences between Leon and Krauser's relationship (hypothetically romantic or otherwise) between OG and the remake and thus two different flavors of metaltango. Because Leon and Krauser are both pretty different characters between versions, *especially* Krauser, the differences make for some really interesting contrasts.

OG METALTANGO:

Leon and Krauser literally meet for the first time during Operation Javier (Darkside Chronicles version.) They are much more equal in standing and prestige, where Krauser is a career soldier with years of experience under his belt and Leon is the government's golden boy. There is kind of a gesture towards Krauser feeling jealous of Leon for this reason, but... well, there's kind of a lot of vague gestures made about Krauser's motivations that have always struck me as silly. (Poorly executed, to say the least.)

Because they meet for the first time on OJ and Krauser is immediately injured, any canon-compliant relationship between the two is going to have to happen in the aftermath/weeks and months after the mission. I've always kind of liked the idea that Leon befriends Krauser and they spend this time hanging out while Krauser is sidelined/in rehab to recover from his injuries. This has kind of been my go-to headcanon here, because otherwise there just really isn't any time for these two to even befriend one another apart from what's depicted in canon.

Once he decides to join up with Wesker to get his arm fixed/POWERRRR, Krauser fakes his death in a helicopter crash. This is presumably the source of the scars on his face in OG. Also, because he was discharged from the military, we are left to assume this helicopter crash happened while he was doing mercenary work (OG Krauser is said to work as a mercenary when he's not on duty with the military, because he feels unfit for normal society outside of the battlefield.)

OG Krauser works for Wesker, is genuinely loyal to him, and seems to genuinely enjoy his job. He joins up with the cult perhaps a few weeks before Ashley's kidnapping... and it is implied that the kidnapping was his idea to begin with to win Saddler's trust? Which it does not, incidentally. But I guess Saddler decides to opportunistically capitalize on the kidnapped head of state's daughter anyway. (OG Los Illuminados are a bunch of incompetent chucklefucks and their plans are completely doomed from the get go, ask me sometime.)

OG Krauser is sent by Saddler specifically to kill Leon, a task which he takes up with gusto due to... I don't know actually. If there's one constant with Krauser it's that his hatred for Leon is never really adequately explained, though at least the remake gives us a boatload of subtextual interpretations. I think OG metaltango is funniest if you interpret Krauser's grudge against Leon as the over-the-top actions of a jilted ex who left Leon on read when he got the breakup text (and also faked his death.) Anyway, one thing that really strikes me is how much fun Krauser seems to be having in OG. He's like, genuinely delighted to be attempting to murder Leon and with his plans to hand Leon's corpse over to Wesker once he's dead. (Put a pin in this one, it's a BIG change in remake.)

Leon is a lot more irritated with Krauser in OG and at least doesn't show an *unwillingness* to fight back. Only once Krauser has fallen does he lament that he "used to be a good guy..." He also seems really upset at Saddler boasting that he never trusted Krauser and the implication that Saddler was only using him.

Ada being the one to "really" kill Krauser in OG is dumb and has always been dumb, imo, and is more than likely an artifact of OG SW's clumsy development and what assets they had to work with.

REMAKE METALTANGO:

okay there is... a LOT more to work with here. Chiefest and most obviously, Krauser is now Major Krauser, and was Leon's commanding officer/mentor. This gives the two of them a much closer and more personal relationship, as well as 4+ whole years to work with, timeline-wise (Operation Javier happened in 2002.)

The mentor/student relationship provides another really delicious power dynamic to work with, shipping-wise. Yes, it's inappropriate for a military officer to have an affair with one of his subordinates, but we are also right in the middle of Don't Ask Don't Tell here so it's also literally forbidden for a soldier to be anything but heterosexual and still keep their job. Also consider, it's hot? Also like, bruh... if you're looking for Pure Wholesome Shipping Dynamics you are looking in the wroooooong ship.

Krauser is fulltime military this time around, no merc work to speak of (or at least no evidence of it.) He also never fakes his death in the remake. He has current contacts within the Secret Service AND is running around using his REAL NAME and ACTUAL military credentials to buy ordnance for Saddler (per SW,) there is absolutely no way we're meant to believe this man is legally dead.

There is evidence that Krauser showed special attention or favoritism to Leon, at least a little bit. Not only is Leon allowed to keep his hair while training (getting your head shaved/your hair cut short is like Basic Training Day One stuff,) but in the opening cutscene we see Leon and Krauser training in private in what appears to be a storage room- not a normal training space. Leon is the government golden boy here, but Krauser is also in charge of a whole unit of special forces guys. Somebody is getting private tutoring from the Major.

Leon respects and trusted Krauser. Krauser is said to have always been "an asshole" but also a man of honor. He is suggested to have been a difficult commanding officer, but also one who cared very deeply about his men and is traumatized by their avoidable deaths in OJ. (This one's my personal opinion, but I really can't stand the interpretation of Krauser having been an awful abusive piece of shit from the get go. Kind of wrecks the tragedy of his fall for me when he was always a cruel bastard. Why exactly would Leon trust, respect, want to emulate, or mourn such a person?)

So you could kind of intuit some trauma into OG Krauser, if you squinted. But there is absolutely no question that remake Krauser is suffering from some pretty massive PTSD. Along with his general unhingedness, all of his actions fit perfectly when viewed through a lens of a very, very traumatized man, used and abandoned by the government he trusted, desperate to gain the power that could have saved his men, and himself-- and the power to keep himself relevant so he can't be used and hurt again. I interpret that Krauser had his face scarred in OJ as well (he doesn't have the scars in the flashback scene with Leon.)

Remake Krauser joined Los Illuminados of his own free will, because they offered him the power to fix his crippled arm-- and the aforementioned power to unsuccessfully "fix" his trauma. But also, maybe it's just me, but I feel like remake Krauser does not give a fuck about the cult. He's loyal to Saddler, yes, but he openly disbelieves the cult religion ("Faith is for the weak, only power matters.") He commands the island mercs and helped set up the defenses, but he's also out here buying warheads under his own name. There is no way he doesn't think he's going to be caught by the U.S. sooner than later-- he just doesn't care. None of his notes read to me like somebody who genuinely thinks the cult has a chance to take over the world. Krauser joined these idiots so he could drink the juice, now the juice is all gone and he's still empty inside.

OG Krauser seemed to be having fun and set up his Leon deathmaze/training ground/mating display for a laugh. Remake Krauser, on the other hand, seems absolutely batshit out of his mind at this point-- alternating between the maze being a "final lesson" for Leon and a deathwish enactment mechanism for himself. Like... between Krauser's general demeanor and the "finish what happened two years ago" talk, this does not feel like a fight that Krauser wants to walk away from, whether or not he kills Leon. If OG Krauser killed Leon, he planned to bag him up and present him to Wesker like a trophy. If remake Krauser did... like, what's he going to do? Can you possibly picture him washing his hands of his blood and going back to work for Saddler? Because I sure can't. (I have a much longer meta piece in mind for this point... like I want to dissect the remake Krauser boss fight and his motivations therein at some point. Let me know if this sounds interesting.)

Remake Leon absolutely does not want to fight Krauser. Krauser forces every single encounter the two of them have. Even though Leon says "you won't get away with this" after Luis' death, he has absolutely no desire nor intention to hurt or kill Krauser back. He asks, over and over, if Krauser is "sure about this" and tries to talk sense into him. He is ready to straight up run away from the boss fight the first chance he gets.

I could probably write a whole other essay on Krauser's final moments and Leon stabbing him, which was one of the most shocking and powerful moments of the remake for me for several reasons. Like... god damn. Did anybody else think Leon was going to do the whole "I'm not like you and I won't do it" thing? (Though arguably it was more heroic/merciful/kind of Leon to put Krauser out of his misery here. Krauser clearly wanted it!!)

I was going to go to Capcom and chain myself to the doors in protest if they put the dumb stupid Krauser boss fight redux in Separate Ways after THAT absolutely poetic ending for him. Glad they didn't. Glad they actually showed Wesker picking up his corpse this time rather than handwaving it offscreen years after the fact.

If somebody has a heterosexual explanation for that picture of Leon in Krauser's tent, I'd certainly like to hear it. Because... bruh.

Well that felt extremely disjointed and pointless... But I hope it was useful or at least gave you some delicious food to feast on? (Or other ideas to interrogate me about, lmao.) Krauser is my favorite RE villain. For OG Krauser it was mostly for comedy reasons, but I am absolutely delighted that the remake gave him some real genuine pathos and a really compelling relationship with Leon.

Anyway, tl;dr metaltango, OG or remake: I ship it and I think it would be hot if they banged.

#resident evil #resident evil meta #metaltango #leon s kennedy #jack krauser #kreon #re4make #re4make spoilers #so not only is krauser my favorite re villain #but luis is my favorite re side character #so you can imagine the stress i felt at the blorbo on blorbo violence present in the remake #thanks for the referral sapphire-weapon #i have a lot of thoughts on resident evil it turns out #i am a multishipper to the core though so don't think i am exclusively here for metaltango ;)#gg answers

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ijuststareatstuffhereok89 · 10 months

Text

Title board created by the wonderful @mochie85!

Lesson Twelve

Saving New Asgard from The Flock comes at a cost: all of your hope that you can save yourself and Loki at the end of the year, when your most violent instinct consumes you for the first time, showing your true potential for destruction.

**MASTERLIST HERE** Pairing: Soft!Dom!Loki x F!Reader Content Warnings: smut, extensive mentions of death, euthanasia, and death-related philosophy, some dark content (though the characters won't be), exile, moodiness, smut, kinks of various flavors (look for specific chapter warnings), trauma and mental illness, reader is a captive, reader has a body count

Chapter-Specific Warning: descriptions of violence

Luckily, it didn’t take too much athleticism on your part to climb up to the one-story-high rooftop, though you didn’t immediately make yourself visible over the rain gutter either. Instead, by balancing with one foot on a shutter, you silently watched for a moment through Loki’s ankles as he stood with his back to you.

“Just come with us,” Jonah demanded. “Find the girl, and we will leave these other demons.”

Just use a projection, Loki! you thought.

“No, I won’t be going with you, and neither will Y/N. Nor will anyone else be subjected to your shitty attempts at purging them again,” he answered.

Jonah looked to Torvald, who nodded and sauntered over to the roof’s edge, posing his AR15 downward and into the crowd, causing Loki to break face by throwing up a hand.

“To what ends does this false battle achieve for you and your god?” he asked. “Valhalla knows the difference between heroes and actors. Believe me, I’ve been both.”

“Speak your words of Hell no longer!” cried out the pregnant wife, holding her pistol up with both hands, trained on Loki’s chest.

He rolled his eyes. “As if I would ever make a willing reference to my sister or her words,” he mumbled. “Murdering villagefolk will not work. You have one chance to leave without ending any more lives…once The King gets here you’ll truly be in for it.”

You bit your lip.

“QUIET LOKI!” shrieked Jonah. “Where is the other?”

“Probably halfway to Iceland by now,” Loki snarked back. “Your problem is with me, not my student.”

Torvald was beginning to lose his composure as Loki took two bold strides forward in an attempt to control the situation. “Now…give your orders to your men to leave New Asgard alone--”

“--GET BACK!” Torvald stumbled and fired his gun.

“AAGGH!” screamed the woman as two bullets hit Loki, sending him backward but not over the roof. Loki himself barely flinched when he was shot. Both bullets had only grazed his skin, one in an arm, the other on his shoulder near his neck. The wounds were, thankfully, superficial. Shaving razors would have left deeper cuts.

You didn’t know this. You didn’t know anything that happened after that moment, because watching Loki tumble backwards at the sound of a gun volley, you blacked out and something more primal took over your brain. Something defensive. Something dark.

The gray smoke on your skin increased in density around your hands until it was a massive halo of dark indigo smoke, billowing and blinding. You scrambled onto the roof as you began growling under your breath in rage. When you appeared, all three of The Flock’s royal family shrank back in instinctual fear.

“This is MY village,” you chanted. “MY village. MY home. They are under MY protection, and if you DARE to return again, you and your families will all die.”

Loki’s eyes went wide with genuine shock at your threat. Torvald gritted his teeth and raised his rifle again in a bout of boldness. He never had a chance to pull his trigger.

As if you’d known how to do so all along, you felt a surge of something building in your core…a power you never had before, something you were gaining from the world around you. The voices of the dead were whispering in your ear, bringing you energy, fifty-thousand voices instantly telling your instincts what to do.

With an instant jerking-back of your hand, as if rearing back to throw something, your smoke formed a rope, and with a whipping motion, you threw your hand out at Torvald, sending the whip unfurling across the roof and wrapping itself around his body, sending it collapsing to the floor as instantly as your death touch would have done.

You didn’t cry, scream, smile, or even breathe in for a moment. You were blinded to anything other than protecting Loki and New Asgard. Still, Torvald’s body flopped lifelessly at Jonah’s feet as you reared your magic back, posed to strike again like a maddened cobra.

The woman screamed again.

“Oh mercy, it’s worse…Maria, go!” Jonah shouted quickly. “Tell everyone to retreat!” Maria didn’t move, frozen in place, petrified with fear.

You drank in the added energy the death gave you. You’d never in your left felt so invincible, so strong. You almost could deplete the entire cult if you had a mind to…

You didn;t have time to develop such a notion, however. As soon as Maria and Jonah had leapt from the roof in order to beat a hasty retreat with The Flock, he looked at you with sorrow. “I’m sorry, this is all my fault. I’ve done this to you…”

You looked back, still in your state of rage, unsure of why he was putting you to sleep with his magic until it was too late.

Blinking awake, you felt light and dizzy as you re-entered your fully-conscious self, lying in bed with your blanket tucked around your shoulders. Katja was seated next to the bed, keeping silent vigil like a kindly grandmother, her eyes reading one of your textbooks on death, this one being about cultural depictions of the entity.

“Ka--Katja?” you asked.

She quickly put the book aside, a gentle smile on her face. “There’s our special guardian,” she said motherly, brushing some hair out of your face. “How are you feeling?”

“A little dizzy, but otherwise…quite well, actually. What happened?”

Katja’s smile faded. “Loki wanted to be the one to explain it. I don't think I could anyway.”

“Is he okay? Bring him!” You attempted to shoot up to a fast sitting position in bed, but it only served to worsen your dizziness, and you had to lean back against the headboard as Katja tsked.

“I’ve never seen you so volatile before, so rash,” she mumbled observantly. “He’s in the other room. I’ll get him. Please try to stay calm...and in bed!”

She returned quickly with Loki in tow, looking far worse for the wear despite no evidence of injury. “You’re alright!” you said happily, which coaxed the smallest smile out of his sullen demeanor.

“Yes, thanks in no small part to you, Y/N,” he answered. Katja quietly closed the door behind her, leaving you and Loki alone.

“How long was I asleep?” you asked.

“It’s a little after one in the morning, so roughly twelve hours.”

“I missed the end of the festival?” you asked, before quickly realizing how dumb you just sounded.

Loki shook his head. “You’re still a little hungover from your attack, I see. Seven Asgardians are dead. The festival ended early.”

Tears almost instantly flooded to your eyes, stinging them with panic. “No. No…I didn’t..?”

Quickly backtracking, Loki threw a hand over yours with a reassuring headshake. “No, pet! No, it was them! You likely prevented that seven from being seventeen or even seventy! I promise, love, what happened wasn’t your doing.”

“I’m sorry…” you began stumbling over your words, the tears coming anyway as you attempted to explain yourself. “What did I do?”

“What do you remember?”

You thought, twisting your lip as you tried recalling the events of earlier. “All I remember is seeing you being shot, then getting so angry that my smoke turned into a whip.”

Loki cocked his head with curiosity. “A whip, you say?”

“I…I killed him without touching him, didn’t I?” you asked softly, wishing you didn’t already know the answer.

He kept his face as neutral as possible while he delivered the bad news. “Yes. You did. Effortlessly. I’ve personally never seen anything like it.”

“Oh my god,” you whispered, burying your face in your hands with shame. “I can’t believe I did it. I didn’t mean to! I swear!”

Loki took a breath. “I think you entered a rogue state, Y/N.”

“What is that?” you asked.

He held his breath as his hand tightened around yours. “Again, it isn’t your fault. Some magic users…they have ways they can black out and completely give their bodies over to their power. It turns them into…”

“...monsters?” you finished. “I became a monster?”

“Oh, Norns, do let me finish!” Loki groaned, before quickly regretting being so harsh upon seeing your hurt face. “I wish I was better at comforting you,” he admitted. “Bedside manners are a new concept to me.”

“I heard voices, they were encouraging me to do it,” you said before realizing that you sounded like a complete lunatic. “No, that didn’t come out the way--”

Your teacher held up a hand. “You really do need to remain calm. We’re all in shock today, but it’s imperative that you let me finish,” he said.

You nodded obediently. Loki squeezed your hand.

“It’s a highly dangerous state, but, like anything else, it can be controlled and contained. Otherwise, don't you think S.H.I.E.L.D. would’ve attempted to destroy that massive green boulder who nearly broke my spine in half? His power is a rogue state.”

“The voices?”

He shrugged. “I cannot say what those voices meant. Perhaps you summoned the power of the dead to guide you, like that night in the cemetery. I cannot do more than hypothesize, however.”

The first tear fell down your cheek as you hung your head. “I’m going to be put down now, aren’t I?”

“I beg your pardon??” Loki nearly choked.

“I’m too dangerous! If I don’t even need to touch people to kill them anymore, there’s no use for me in this world, is there--?”

Loki nearly leapt on you, throwing his arms around you and holding you fast to his chest. “Say that ever again and I’ll end you myself,” he hissed. “I won’t allow you to speak of yourself so deplorably. I won’t let them execute either one of us. We will figure this out and we will win our freedom!”

You let him hold you, gently rocking you back and forth as you let the tears dry. “Where did they go off to? The Flock? Are they gone?”

He shook his head. “Brunnhilde is attempting to contact the country’s government as we speak, though they are also a bit hesitant to be in contact with us as well, so no one knows how long it might be until authorities can drive them away for good.”

“Shit,” you muttered. “They could still return.”

Loki rested a palm on your cheek, the cool touch of his skin soothing the sting from your tears.

“Well, if nothing else, they will fear you so much more after today that I can’t imagine them returning before the end of the year,” he assured you. “It was, admittedly, a sight to witness.”

“What did I look like?”

Loki’s smile came back in earnest as he recalled your appearance as your rogue state consumed you for the first time. “Your eyes glowed crimson. You were furious. It was…marvelous.”

You couldn’t help but blush while he elaborated. “It looked as if you were about to shoot my brother’s lightning from your hand, but instead, that man just crumpled over. But then…then you looked at the others, and then at me. I realized then that you weren’t yourself, and that was when I brought you to sleep.”

You were quiet for a moment. “So…seven dead?”

“Please don’t,” coaxed Loki, kissing your forehead softly and wrapping himself tightly around you. “Save your sorrow for the memorial tomorrow, and just rest in my arms today. No lessons or study are necessary.”

The materials that the New Asgardians had procured to create wishing boats were fashioned into similar little boats, only lined with straw, grass, and lilies. At sunset the following day, the entire village came to send the seven people who were felled by The Flock off into the afterlife. You wanted to join them in their work, but Loki forbade it.

“I need you emotionally recovered, and I was even considering refusing to let you attend tonight--”

“--fuck you, I’m going--”

“--I knew you’d say that.”

Ultimately, you agreed to keep your distance from the sorrow during the day, and Loki agreed to bring you to the funeral ritual at dusk. You didn’t have the energy to argue either way. In a sweet attempt to occupy your mind, he’d gone to the market for supper ingredients.

“I was thinking about that beef stew the other night, and was hoping you’d make some,” he said. “And, I was also tempted by the fact that the stock included everything necessary for--”

“--a cake!” you said, smiling as you inspected the bag he’d set on the kitchen countertop. “Of course. You know how cooking helps me sort through my thoughts.”

“I’m afraid, while that was certainly a motivation for seeking out groceries, it was secondary to more selfish reasons,” he admitted, expressing the closest you imagined Loki had ever come to embarrassment. “I was known for having the most dire addiction to pastries and fruits in the palace. It was a childish fault, but one I still fall victim to.”

“The great trickster god Loki is a sugar fiend?” you giggled. “That’s uncharacteristically adorable of you.”

“I know, quite a scandal,” he murmured sheepishly. “And it wasn’t exactly kind to my teeth either.”

Your smile warmed your soul, the laughter brought you relief as much as Loki’s gesture. “You’re welcome to watch as I bake,” you offered.

He shook his head. “I have another project for this afternoon that I must see to.”

Frankly, the time alone that afternoon was welcome in the long run. It gave you the chance to plan out exactly how you were going to admit your feelings to him. A funeral was far from the right place, so you were going to ask him to take you into the woods tomorrow, to get back to practical work. There, you would be alone and out of earshot.

But was it the right thing to do, or was it crossing a line? How far was Loki willing to go in keeping the bond alight between you? Long enough to successfully complete the year’s test? Longer?

Deciding that once you’d laid out your plans, it wouldn’t help to dwell on the risk you were undertaking, you finished making supper and dessert just in time for Loki to come downstairs, holding two small boats made of wood, lined with lilies, runes etched into the sides of each.

“I hope you don’t mind,” he said casually, “but I was selfish and gave us both a wish anyway.”

“Those are for a memorial!” you gasped.

“We’ll go further down the shore than the rest to launch them,” he acquiesced. This was enough for you.

“What do they say?” you asked.

Loki winked. “I don't think I will tell you. You’ll just have to trust me once again.”

After eating, Loki practically needing a bib to keep the three helping of stew off of his leather vest, you walked down with Ivar and Katja, each of you holding a boat. You went your separate ways once you reached the square, Ivar and Katja going off with the crowd, you and Loki branching off and tiptoeing through layers of reed and rock in order to reach a more private portion of the beach.

The King’s voice carried well on the wind, and you could hear every word of her eulogy. She wasn’t exactly the most eloquent public speaker. In fact, she had to be three drinks into the evening based on how her vowels slurred together. She did, however, address each victim by name and age. The oldest among the victims had been elderly, the youngest an adolescent. Each one had their families launch an arrow at their funeral boats as each drifted off into the fjord. Then, the rest of the archers followed while the citizens launched their boats.

At the same time, Loki lit your boats, and you gently set them adrift to join the rest before sitting on a rock to watch the twinkling lights of the ceremony begin to flicker away.

“I wasn’t allowed to attend my mother’s funeral,” Loki said softly, slipping a hand into yours. “I was imprisoned by my father for my crimes against New York.”

You leaned your head onto his shoulder, broad and warm. “That’s awful.”

“They left me to languish, to blame myself for her death as she was lifted to Valhalla,” he continued. “She taught me seidr. She handed me the King’s saber when he fell into the Odinsleep…and I wasn’t able to say goodbye.”

“She knows you were kept from her against your will,” you insisted. “She still loves you.”

“Love,” Loki scoffed, his voice deepening in pensive candor. “Love is for children.” He spoke the words as if reciting them, perhaps pulling them from a memory.

Your heart sank at these words. “But--”

“--the best we can ever hope to achieve is trust. If you learn to trust someone, as I trust you and you trust me, you gain an ally. If you love someone, you only gain a ticking clock.”

You sighed. “I’m disappointed that you see it that way,” you replied, “but I can understand why you do.”

Never in so few words did your hopes and plans collapse and fall apart, creating a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach. He’s not in love with me. He can’t ever be.

“Though,” you found yourself going on in spite of yourself, “I’m afraid I didn’t quite see the same distinction you did.”

Loki took a minute to absorb what you were saying. He quickly withdrew his hand from yours. “Perhaps we should stop being affectionate then, if I’m leading you so astray.”

“You could never love me, then?” you asked meekly. “After what’s happened between us so far, you can’t even entertain the idea?”

“On the contrary, I believe I can,” he admitted. “Which is why we shouldn’t. It could endanger us.”

“Fine then, we’ll stop having sex. And I’ll just…focus on knife-throwing for now and not bother you anymore.” You got up to remove yourself from the moment before you began crying.

“Y/N--”

You ignored him, deciding to leave him sitting alone while you rejoined the ritual. The crowd of Asgardians was now quietly observing the glowing display as the seven victims of The Flock dissipated into gold dust, which floated into the air and scattered into atoms across the night.

Please comment and reblog!!

@kats72 @violethaze @cheekyscamp @javagirl328 @yelkmelk @mischief2sarawr @buttercupcookies-blog @lokidokieokie @fictive-sl0th @jaidenhawke @caothicshit @holdmytesseract @anukulee @joyful-enchantress @simplyholl @meowmeow-motherfucker @huntress-artemiss @lokisgoodgirl @loz-3 @mjsthrillernp @alexakeyloveloki @linaax @noideakitten @evelyn-rathmore @lovingchoices14 @itzcomplctd7 @praq123 @the-fantasy-loving-angel @alexakeyloveloki @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @admiralatthebowofnails @vanilla-daydreaming @technicallysassyfox @ozymdias @fall-myriad @sititran @lokisdeadcat @blog-the-lilly @satrkovaza

#loki #fanfiction #mcu #mcu loki #loki fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #loki x reader #loki laufeyson #loki/reader #loki smut #loki angst #fanfic #dom!loki #dom!loki x sub!reader #sub!reader #cults #new asgard

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unhingedhousehold · 1 year

Text

count the sheep

summary: you can't sleep and bradley passed his sweet mom's genius method to help you.

lol. omg. was scrolling through tumblr when i found this post and one of the reblogs said they used to go through alphabet and name a person they love whose name starts with each letter and... that's how i gave birth to my 2nd story lol who would've thought I'll have 2 babies!

this story is so funny in my head sffdgfgr i had so much fun writing this sfagafwfsgsgsgsgdg okay enough with the giggles

pairing: bradley bradshaw x reader (reader has hair)

warnings: mentions of bradley's parents, mentions of pineapples on pizza (lol), mentions of mint choco flavor (lol again), implied smut, a bit of marriage proposal thought (bradley is a simp), bradley saying fuck!!, my knowledge about natops and navy based on my 5 mins google research so apologize for any mistakes, english isnt my 1st language so you know the sorry for any inaccurate words and bad grammar drill!!

words: around 2k i think

i don't consent my work being translated or copied, please be respectful of someone's work!

Bradley felt like it's been hours since you've been turning and tossing on your side of bed when in fact, it's only been around 30 minutes. He already turned off the lamp, a playlist created to help both of you to sleep soundly still playing, yet you're still wide awake squirming trying to sleep. You were in his embrace earlier, but escaped because you simply just can't stop moving and shift your body a bit from Bradley's. He heard you grunt, and that's his cue to get you back to his embrace, his arms wrapped around your body and chin on your hair.

“I say this with so much love, please stop squirming or I'll have to tie you on the headboard.” He heard you chuckling and even though he can't see you but somehow, he's able to detect there would be a witty answer from your upcoming reply.

“Oh kinky, wouldn't be the first time though.”

See?! You and your smart mouth will be the death of him!

“Pervert. Seriously, what's up? You're usually the first one to go to the dreamland. Try to relax and stop thinking, okay? We had a long day; let's rest our tired body, yeah?”

You sighed, feeling guilty and trying to escape again from his embrace so he'll be able to have his sleep, “That's what I've been trying. Sorry. Maybe I should be sleeping on the cou–” he stops you with a kiss on your lips, “Nah, don't apologize,” and tightens his grip to prevent you from getting away again, "and not a chance."

You relented and hugged him back, with muffled voice, you reason, “This is why you shouldn't let Bob chose a movie. I don't do well with horror.”

“He won today's quiz from Cyclone. Phoenix would've killed me if I interfered with Bob's choice of movie. Besides, you have your eyes closed the entire time the movie is on! And you know it yourself you will never be able to say no to Bob.”

You smiled fondly at his statement, recalling the time when Bob offered you to try his mint choco flavored ice cream and you ended up liking it to normal amount (up to this day, Fanboy still convincing you you're basically having toothpaste as a dessert. Hangman as the Vice President of Mint Choco Ice Cream Lovers kicked his ass for that). “Bob is really the worst enabler in my life.”

You can feel Bradley's laughter from the way his chest grumbled. He then hummed along the song that's currently playing, usually his humming would help you sleep faster, yet it's not working.

You're tracing something on his back, from your initial to his, and mixed both of your initials when he started talking again, “You know, maybe I know a way. This is something my mom came up with when she was dealing with her insomnia.” He said it with so much ease, so different from years ago when he didn't even wanna talk about his mom. You started writing his Mom's name on his back.

“How?”

As he felt you writing the O letter, he answered, “Count the sheep.”

You stopped your movement from writing the I letter, “So I should literally counting them to thousands? I've made it past 300 only back then.”

(You remembered it because you had 3 coffees in one day thanks to back to back studying session you had to do during exam period.)

“No, you're not literally counting the sheep. It's more like you try to think of things that fit the topic you chose and count them, but don't google the answers. Just lay in bed and think of them.”

“Does it work for you?”

He answered when you just finished his Mom's name, and now you're going to write his Dad's, “Most of the times, yes.”

Bradley felt it when you're done writing NICHO, index finger about to start writing L when you quietly asked, “What kind of topic did you chose then?”

“Inactive United States Navy aircraft squadrons between 1980 to 2009. What's on NATOPS Pocket Checklist. NATOPS Emergency Procedure Basics–” before he can continue with more Navy related that you have no idea about, you looked up and kiss his lips tenderly to shut him up, “You're such a nerd.”

He laughed, kissing the top of your hair and defends himself. “Not always like that. Sometimes I think of ways to please you. My favorite topic to think about, honestly.”

You rolled your eyes, your hands that previously on his back smacked his ass lightly.

“Or you can use my mom's way, she told me to go through the alphabet and name a person I love whose name starts with each letter.” Bradley started writing something on your back, like you did earlier to his.

When you felt him writing your last name, that's when you found your voice back. “Hmm. Interesting.”

“Yeah, I used to do that a lot when I was a kid but I don't think I can do it now.”

“Why?”

“Because your letter is the only letter I can think of. I don't need to through from A to Z to think of someone I love.”

With your fist, you hit his chest lightly, “You're such a sap.”

“Only with you, sweets.”

His index finger started to write M, followed by R, S, continues with B, R, and then A. You had an idea what he was about to write, so you decide to try his Mom's method.

“Okay, I'll try.”

He just finished writing W with heart emoji in the end when he replied, “Go on. I'm listening.”

You wrote A on his chest, rocking your brain to come up with someone whose name starts with A.

“A.. I can't think of any A... Aaron?”

Bradley tensed up, the movement of his index finger trying to write the V letter suddenly stopped and shifted his body a bit to get a look at your face, “Who the hell is Aaron?”

“What? Urgh, I don't think this method will work. It's just one male name and you're already this worked up. How am I supposed to go through until Z?”

“The Aaron I know in your life was your ex-fling! You could've mentioned Ally!” Your brows furrowed, looking at him with confusion clouded your face, “She makes omelet you claimed is to die for at the diner we frequent to?”

You laughed at his goofy but correct answer, “You're unbelievable.”

You're back to his chest, writing B as the next letter. “Okay. B.. hmm...”

You both knew damn well who is the person going to be, but riling him up is your favorite thing to do so you made your voice to be the sweetest and full of hope voice that you'll certainly say one precise name.

“Oh I know, this is the easiest,” You practically can feel Bradley's anticipated eyes, smile at the ready and kisses that awaits you after you said one name, his fingers ready to write so much after he finished i love you on your back earlier.

(He's just that good with his timing, huh? You can't let him have his victory, though.)

“It's Bob! Next for C...”

Bradley released you from his embrace, fingers stilled in the air, and giving you that look when you told him you like your pizza with pineapples on it, “What the fuck?”

You showed him your innocent eyes, a kind of eyes that will let you get away with anything and everything, blinking them, “What? I'm doing it right! Bob starts with B!”

He huffed, hands covering his face dramatically, “You know there's someone else whose name starts with B.”

You taunt him, “Yeah? Who?”

Oh, he loves you so much for that.

He pouts, voice like a little kid whose mom rejected his idea to go biking with friends, “Oh come on, big elephant in the room?”

Your eyes lit up when he said that, as if you got what he meant by the elephant in the room.. because you should! How could you forget his name? A name that you're screaming to when he went down on you! A name you fervently vocalize when he's ball deep insi –

“Hmm.. Benjamin Penny?”

Shocked at your answer, his mouth goes wide open, formed a big O, “Are you kidding me?”

And what happened next was your laughter filled the room with Bradley hovering over you as he tickled you with so much force; from your waist to your sole, your stomach isn't lost on him as he blew so much raspberry on it. Not only that, he attacks you with kisses on your neck, biting the juncture between your shoulder and neck, the back of your ear tickles at how much force he puts to make you laugh that you can't say anything but laughing. When you got lost in the feeling, he's back on tickling your waist.

He's really good at memorizing your body, thanks to the amount of times he spent to explore on it. You decided you couldn't take another tease from him when you felt his right hand trying to make its way on between your closed legs, and as you tried to get away from his teasing by hitting his shoulder, an idea came up, “Stop it, Cradleeeey!” But it seems like he didn't hear you, looking at how his hands busy kneading the flesh of your thighs.

“Hey Dradley, stop it! Okay, I surrender!” He's now looking at you, confusion over his pretty face because he just registered what you just called him.

“What did you just call me?”

“Cradley. Dradley. Eradley? Bradley starts with E sounds so weird.” Both of his hands are now on your side, face inches away from yours, “Fradley is funny though. Oooh, Gradley?” You kissed his nose, and his cheeks as you said each name.

“Did you just change the first letter of my name?”

“Yeah. Now I know what you meant by elephant in the room! You said to go through the alphabet and name a person I love whose name started with each letter, right? Hradley sounds weirder than Eardley, don't you think?”

He laughed so hard at your expression and to muffle his chuckles, he hid his face on your neck. You can't help but to join him as you wrap your hands around his neck.

“Wait until we get to T.” He said after so much effort to stop his giggles.

“Oh my god! You're right. Hey, Tradley,” you giggled, amused by it and he kissed your forehead because he didn't want to interrupt your laughter and looked at you like you hung the moon (you did, according to him), “I don't think I'll be able to pronounce Xradley and Zradley well though.” You said the X and Z with struggles, and for your attempt to pronounce Yradley and Wradley next, he rewards you with a kiss to your lips, deepening it when he felt you opening your sweet lips to welcome him.

–––

And the next few weeks when Bradley was deployed and had a hard time sleeping, he chose his topic about ways on how to propose you. He woke up smiling as he vividly remembers what he came up with. He thanked his genius Mom for her count the sheep method; that's how he knows his Mom has always been, is always, and will always be with him, just like she promised.

the ending is a bit weird but whew 🥹🥲🫣 if you make it to the end, thank you for reading!

#rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw fluff #top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun maverick x reader #top gun rooster

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beesmygod · 2 years

Text

THIS IS DEATH OF THE AUTHOR:

thought experiment: imagine a text whose author does not exist. the text simply appeared out of thin air one day, attributed to nobody and with absolutely no clear origin. let’s use the fanfiction “my immortal” as an example.

we cannot interview the author of “my immortal” (they’ve all been debunked, stick with the thought experiment right now). we can’t ask them their inspirations or the purpose of the text. we can’t investigate their lives to determine more information about how they came to develop the ideas within. we don’t know what influenced them, both in stylistic terms and thematic/ideological. the text simply exists without context.

how would we start to approach a literary critique of something like this? how do we determine meaning from it? the original essay regarding the “death of the author” concept argues in favor of reading a text in a way that prioritizes an individual’s interpretation versus approaching art as though there is one objective true meaning about each art piece. that is to say: what do YOU get out of it?

both of these means of approaching the text are valid (i won’t say equally bc let’s be real some motherfuckers have some really stupid individual interpretation based on ignorant readings) but both also serve different purposes and are trying to achieve different things. “death of the author” is not more valid, it’s just a more recent concept to be adopted in academia so its fresh and exciting to dig into.

if we were to take a look at “my immortal” using the original academic framework, we would be investigating what we do know about the author (both in the fictional biography that plays out in the authors notes and what little real info we might have) and the time period the text took place in (for example, we would examine fan fiction culture of the time, what bad fan fiction looked like in the early 2000s, what the harry potter fandom was doing that flavored this text, fan fiction specific dramas that influenced it, etc).

if we were to take a “death of the author” approach, we would each come away with different, but likely overlapping, interpretations of the text based entirely on its contents. i might look at how it treats women using a modern lens (as opposed to looking at it as a product of its time), or how clothing/bands are used as a means of demonstrating who in the cast is moral and who is not and how that ties into a greater consumer culture. or something. i dont care what you do. you get it, right.

EASY CHEAT SHEET:

“normal” critique: seeks a universal true meaning of a work by examining the circumstances in which a work was created and stressing the author’s intentions.

“death of the author” critique: seeks an individual interpretation of a work and stresses the importance of the reader’s influence on how they interpret the work.

VERY IMPORTANT: your individual interpretation is not inherently correct because you are using the “death of the author” framework to critique it. if your interpretation is inexplicable and you cannot communicate it to other people convincingly, then there’s a very real possibility your interpretation just sucks.

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ryujnn · 1 year

Text

► akuma. ﾟ｡ ⋆ only love can hurt like this. (01)

► chapter summary ﾟ｡ ⋆ 10 weeks of preparation until the big day follows 10 reasons why you’d rather die in battle than marry gojo satoru.

► chapter warnings ﾟ｡ ⋆ mentions of death. misogynistic themes. gojo and the reader despise one another. depressive themes.

tag list. visual + character board. prev. next.

When you were 8, you’d ask your mom all about love. What it was, what it felt like— the side effects. Your mother would always tell you the same thing…

“It’s like when you see those biiiig rollercoasters, you always wanna get on one, right? But it’s kind of scary because of the bad things that can happen, so now you have to decide… do you want to leave and regret not getting on the rollercoaster, or take the chances to either have the best ride of your life— or the worst one.”

Of course, you were only 8, so you took your moms speech literal. You wanted to get on a rollercoaster! You also wanted the love your father and mother had— or what they showed you. What they wanted you to see.

Though, when you started to grow up, you realized that you didn’t want the love that your parents had. You also began to realize that what she told you about love— wasn’t about taking the risk of falling in love with your father.

It was the risk of having and loving you.

WEEK 10 — “I TELL MYSELF YOU DON’T MEAN A THING,”

“Will Gojo be attending?” Asked your mother, resting her thin arms on the cool metal table. She loved the temperature, definitely helping with her constant body heat.

You shook your head, keeping your attention solely on the multiple cupcakes sitting in front of you. Despite being different flavors, the icing all looked the same.

Buttermilk, coconut, lemon. After a while, they started to taste the same. You hated sweets all-the-more; only indulging when you’re stress eating. Unfortunately, you weren’t stressed.

Making this entire experience even worse.

Your mother, on the other hand, was excited for the experience. Her only daughter, lucky for her to be alive— lucky to be alive herself, and she gets to see her get married.

“I do hope he’ll attend the dress fitting.”

Sighing, you pushed away the cupcake in front of you. “No need,” Resting both arms over your chest, “I’m just gonna find one my size. Doesn’t matter what it looks like.”

Your mother frowned. “It does matter how it’ll look, Y/N,” She scolds; almost in a motherly way. “It’s your big day.”

The urge to snap at your mother grew with each second. No, it wasn’t your big day. You didn’t want your first marriage to be with someone who had no absolute feelings for— you hated the fact you were even being forced to do this.

After a few moments of silence, your mother places her hands over one another, keeping them settled in her lap.

“You know, you’re so adamant on the fact you’ll fight soon. This’ll be your only normal experience before you’re back to training. Appreciate it. Take a break.”

WEEK 9 — “AND WHAT WE GOT, GOT NO HOLD ON ME,”

“One, two, three, spin!”

Just like the last six spins, Satoru wasn’t grasping onto the concept of keeping your hands locked when sending someone off for a turn.

Leaving you dizzy and stumbling to the floor— again.

A small scoff left your lips, pushing yourself off the ground with a huff. “Seriously, does having weird eyes also affect your hearing?” Asking with a tone, you returned to the position in front of him. “You’re not supposed to let go of me.”

Satoru couldn’t help but chuckle. “You’re getting very worked up over a little spin.”

“Well my knees are sore because you can’t follow basic instructions,” Another roll to your eyes, a habit you’ve been picking up on (mostly around him). “I seem to forget that being the strongest doesn’t correlate with the smartest, huh?”

The instructor walked closer, clapping his hands together, hoping to ease the tension between the couple. “How about we try again? We can always switch it up a little if it helps.”

You sent the instructor a small smile, returning to Gojo with a neutral expression. “One, two, three—”

Satoru releases your hand, tugging the ringing phone out of his pocket. He quickly glances at the screen before shoving it back into its home, looking down at you on the ground, again.

“Gotta go.”

You pulled your eyebrows together, opening your mouth to speak, but he beats you to it by a second. He holds out a finger to you, faux smile on his face.

“Can’t make the dress rehearsal, either,” He shrugged his shoulders, turning for the door. As he’s taking long strides with his even longer legs, he waves at you from behind.

“Might wanna get off the floor! Never know what germs are lingering.”

You huff, keeping your seat on the floor. You simply hugged your legs to your chest, dropping your head between your knees.

WEEK 8 — “BUT WHEN YOU’RE NOT THERE, I JUST CRUMBLE.”

“After the marriage, she’ll stay at your estate— yet she’ll see our doctors. We’ll send them over every week, along with extra helpers and maids.” Sousuke had his feet propped up on the small stool in front of him, checking off from his list. “Gotta make the marriage look believable. I’m sure your our elders wouldn’t be happy with a fake marriage combining our clans.”

Gojo sits on the couch across from him, legs spread, hands folded together in the middle, just the slightest hunched forward. He raises his eyebrow. “What about trainers?”

Sousuke stops shaking his pen, raising his eyes to the man before him. “Huh?”

“You know, the people who’re supposed to help train your daughter for her big battle,” He pulls himself back, resting his spine on the couch. He intertwines his fingers and rests them on his lap. “I’m very excited to see her go against… who is it… her brother?”

Sousuke chuckled deeply, shaking his head to the man. “No trainers. She has yet to even prove herself… hasn’t even fought anyone, let alone killed someone at all.” He adverts his eyes back to the paper. “She’s not going against Ryou.”

“I think I remember her saying she’d fight him,” Satoru shrugs, pointing to one of his ears. “Think my eyes are affecting the ears.”

Tension grows between the two. Two clan heads, both stubborn and obstinate; what an absolutely horrible idea to possibly mix them. It’s like cross—breeding a cat and a dog. The power dynamic between the two almost suffocated everyone in that room.

Sousuke hums, slipping his pen into the top of his clipboard. He knows what his daughters wishes are— she’s even lucky to have them. It sort of ticks him off that she has so many requests, so much to say and a lot to argue about… when she could’ve been dead years ago.

One thing about Sousuke Shio? He loathed doing extra work.

Why put in so much effort and money into creating the generational battle when he already knows who’s gonna win? There’s no fun in that— and it’s a waste of his precious time. He could be using that time to breed— continuing the bloodline.

“How’s this sound?” He places the clipboard down, resting his hands at his lap. “You like to teach children how to use their energy, right? Teach that brat how to use hers. Then maybe she won’t die four seconds in. Make it worth our time, will ya’?”

Gojo smiles back, his blood boiling under his skin. Brat? Worth his time? This man had a large stick up his ass, and all Satoru wanted to do was rip it out and beat him with it.

Sousuke partially reminded Gojo of his elders— no companionship or care for anyone other then themselves. He hated them for that… all he’s wanted to do was change that. Never wanted to be anything like that, either.

Selfish bastards.

WEEK 7 — “I TELL MYSELF I DON’T CARE THAT MUCH,”

The curtains were pulled back, revealing you in a puffy, cream colored white dress. It was strapless, showing off your collarbones and shoulders. It had surprisingly fit better than you thought, but it didn’t scream to you.

Neither did the other four.

You looked at the mirror in front of you and immediately felt nauseous. You were supposed to be doing this for someone you loved, with family members watching and cheering you on. This moment is what some people apparently dream of, but it seemed nothing like the magazines you read.

Nothing like the movies you watched with your mother— or the stories about her own wedding.

Your mother clapped her hands together gently, sending you a golden smile. “That one is gorgeous,” She points at your chest, raising her eyebrows. “Little seductive, too. Perfect on you.”

Adverting your eyes from the mirror, over to your mother, you couldn’t ignore the fact that despite being severely malnourished and deprived— she’s got a smile on her face, pure happiness from watching her daughter prepare for her big day.

“This’ll be your only normal experience before you’re back to training.” Her words lingered. Maybe you should take this for advantage— you’ll be back to patching up cuts and bruises in a few weeks. What’s wrong with a few days off?

Importantly, your mother seemed to be enjoying this experience a lot more than you were. No matter how sick she felt, she followed you to every appointment, helped you with picking and choosing what will be served and what music should be played.

You couldn’t ruin it for her; especially since she didn’t have a proper one herself.

“You like it, mom?” You asked, walking out in another dress. You fisted the sides, attempting to spin around on your bare toes. “I think I’d like it more if the sleeves were lace.”

She laughs, “Sleeves with lace it is.”

WEEK 6 — “BUT I FEEL LIKE I DIE, ‘TILL I FEEL YOUR TOUCH.”

“This is his wife?”

A young girl, green hair tied up up into a ponytail, keeps her eyes on you. She’s scanning you up and down, mouth agape, as if she’s seen something she wanted— for a price she’s willing to pay.

You looked down at your outfit, a pair of very low waisted jeans and a white long sleeve that didn’t reach the waistband of your pants, leaving some skin to show. You shoved your hands into your pockets. “I… should I have worn a different shirt?”

She shook her head rapidly. “N-No! You look awesome!” She smiles. “I just mean… you’re so pretty. Especially in person. I totally thought Gojo-sensei was lying about getting married!”

“Salmon.” A boy with dirtier—white hair spoke under his collar.

Before you knew it, your cheeks were warm, followed by your ears burning. “Oh, um, thank you.” You spoke shyly, not one to really receive compliments— especially about your looks.

You’ve never had the chance, either. You were stuck in a community with just family until months ago… you barely even known compliments existed.

The large panda beside her took a step forward, placing a big hand on his friends shoulder. “Sorry about her,” He sends you a toothy smile. “She’s Maki. I’m Panda— and collar guy is Inumaki.”

“Nice to meet you guys,” You bowed slightly, “I’m—”

“We know who you are,” Maki cheeks begin burning visibly, probably more nervous than you were. “Shio Y/N from the Shio Clan. The bearer of five. You’re like, either a myth or a legend around here.”

“I wouldn’t say legend!” Gojo smiles, walking up the hill to see his fiancé and students all interacting with one another.

Once he’s made his way over to the conversation, he stands beside you, almost an entire foot taller than you. He simply looks over, peering down at you with an unreadable expression.

No matter how many times you look at him, with or without that dingy white blindfold wrapping around his eyes or his black glasses— you couldn’t read him. You couldn’t figure him out for the life of you.

His aura even read nothing.

“Yeah… I…” You look away from him, back to the students before you. “I’m just Y/N here, okay? I’m sure we can all learn something from one another.”

“Pollack roe.” Inumaki sends you a thumbs up.

WEEK 5 — “ONLY LOVE CAN HURT LIKE THIS.”

“Talked to your father.” A voice echoed behind you, causing you to spin around on your heels.

You stumbled slightly, catching yourself on the counter beside you. Stupid fucking shoes— first time wearing a pair and you feel like your legs are absolutely jelly.

Nonetheless, you chuckle bitterly, hoping to lighten the mood and the obvious tension between you and your fiancé. “That couldn’t’ve been good,” Once his expression stayed the same, you look down at your feet. “What’d he say?”

“Jus’ told me about the doctor that’s supposed to visit every week.” He crosses his arms, watching you play with the material of your black dress.

“But I also wanted to tell you that I’ll be a gone for a bit after the wedding. Missions and all,” As expected. You weren’t even sure why he was telling you in the first place. “There’s some work being done. There’s a bedroom with the lake view for you— I’ll be on the other side.

That was a little weird. You could understand not wanting to sleep next to each other considering you didn’t know one another— but being on complete opposite sides of the house? That’s really awkward.

You shook your head, careful not to mess up the low bun neated in your hair. “You seriously don’t have to do all of that.”

“Don’t really have a choice.”

Gojo Satoru was a popular man. He’s had his fair share of woman problems— tasted every apple under the tree. He could’ve been with anyone else, been doing anything else— wherever else he wanted to be with whoever. He did have a choice.

It even makes you wonder— the million dollar question that has been on your mind for the past five weeks… Why did Gojo Satoru agree to marry you?

“You did have a choice,” Grabbing your clutch from the counter, you tugged the strap onto your shoulder. “You didn’t have to marry me, you made that decision on your own. Believe me, I don’t want anything to do with this just as much as you.”

As you attempted to walk past Gojo, he steps in front of you, halting you in your tracks. You squeezed your eyes shut, expecting to bump right into his chest— but you were met with nothing.

You opened your eyes, seeing how you were just seconds away from his body— yet met with nothing. The closer you had gotten, the slower your body seemed to move. You’ve heard about this before, this foreign technique that only six eye users can do. The infinity.

You took a step back, clearing your throat and dusting your dress from whatever you thought was on there. Focusing on that was a lot better than thinking about how there was absolutely no trust between you two, that even a barrier made up of matter was now involved.

As if you were just measly business partners.

“There’ll be guards, maids, helpers and chefs there. You should be all set after the ceremony,” He shoved his hands into his pocket, tilting his wrist to check the notification on his watch. “They all report back to me, so, don’t do anything you wouldn’t want tattled about, ‘kay?”

You scoffed. Were you about to leave from one hell to another? This man who knows absolutely squat about you, warning you about ethical behavior and integrity? Using his infinity around you like you were a threat? Staying on the other side of the house? What were you exactly signing your life away to??

“Don’t talk to me like I’m some random woman you’re marrying and forcing to sign a prenuptial agreement.” You took another step back, gripping onto your clutch’s material. “I don’t need chefs or maids. I’m not a housewife. I’ll barely be in your home if that makes you feel any better.”

Silence. Nothing but pure silence. You rolled your eyes, turning on your shoes once more to storm out of the house. Once the door slammed, the house shook slightly, yet Gojo stood there with his hands tucked into his pockets— emotionless.

“That’s too bad.”

WEEK 4 — “SAY I WOULDNT CARE IF YOU WALKED AWAY,”

“Nice to meet you too, Nanami.”

After shaking the man’s hand, you sat on the wheeling chair adjacent from him, crossing your legs over one another. Nanami mimicked your actions, sitting down as well.

He sets his weapon on the table beside you both. “So, have you thought about what technique you want to practice first?” Nanami folds his fingers and rests his hands on his lap. “Or which element you want to use the most?”

…No. That’s what you want to blurt out. You also want to add that you’ve been practically confined for the past twenty four years of your life. You’re not sure what techniques you’d be best for… not sure what elements you want to specialize in— two simple questions and you can’t even answer properly.

You peered down to your lap. “Uh, well I’m not the best with technique definitions, they— I…”

“That’s okay,” Nanami simply nods to you. You can tell he’s trying his best to make you comfortable— but you feel stupid. “Let’s start simple. The five elements you wield, it’s fire, water, air, earth and… void?”

“Space, actually. I know it seems like there’s not a difference, but there’s a barrier for how much we can actually do. Void is too powerful.”

The blonde hums, nodding as you spoke. He kept his eyes on you, in no way rushing you— or even judging you for not having any answers right away. He seemed calm… reserved. Something you weren’t used to.

“Out of all those, which element do you think you’d want to practice first?”

“Air.”

Nanami’s eyebrows raise, “That was quick,” He crosses his arms over one another, leaning back in his seat. “How come? What’s wrong the the others?”

“Well, fire is extremely dangerous. It can be very powerful, but we aren’t immune to it. Using it burns us after a while. Water is too technical, you can manipulate multiple things on accident, like salt, oil and even blood. Earth is limited, very good asset but not something that’ll keep you up the whole fight. Space is first best, but it’s also pretty hard to learn— let alone master, and messing up space techniques is very dangerous.”

You let out a sigh, finishing your ramble, looking away to the window. All up until you realized you were rambling. Your eyes went wide, hands covering you mouth with a low gasp.

“Ohmygod,Imsosorry,Ijustspokesomuch—”

Nanami laughs, shaking his head towards you. “Stop, stop, you’re alright,” He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, ignoring the sweat from laughing. “It’s fascinating, don’t worry.”

For some reason, you become flustered. Not because of Nanami— no attraction in anyway, but the fact that you’ve had the chance to talk about your energy. The power you possess. How you felt about it. While at home, your parents wouldn’t ask much about it. You never had the opportunity to talk about the technical reasons, either.

Ryou always did.

You couldn’t help but smile, picking at your fingernails. “Thank you.”

He hums in return, standing up to grab his weapon. “Let’s start with learnable techniques. It’s weaker, but considering the amount of power you hold, you could deal great damage.” Nanami pushes his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. “How’s that sound?”

“Sounds great.”

WEEK 3 — “BUT EVERYTIME YOU’RE THERE, IM BEGGING YOU TO STAY.”

Drip after drip, the medicine dripping into your mother’s IV followed with the sound of the monitor beeping a rhythmic tune. You sighed, keeping her soft, frail hand in yours, rubbing your thumb along her skin.

Resting your head against her arm, you look over to the doctor in the corner, watching him send you gentle, sad smile.

“Is she gonna die soon?”

He clears his throat, questioning how he could deliver such an answer. No child wants to hear about their parents getting sick— let alone dying. He’s signed an oath to his patients, to worry about their well-being, but that comes with their children too.

The doctor walks closer to you, leaning on the wall nearest you. “We’ve sedated her, put her in a medically induced coma so that she could attend your wedding,” He pauses, releasing another breath. “After that, though, we believe that’s all the energy she’ll have left.”

You blink, not moving positions, nor crying or showing any emotion. You simply stared at the wall in front of you, keeping comfort with your mothers hand. Her warm hand, with her warm skin filled with moles, decorating her features.

“So after my wedding… she’ll die?”

The doctor nods. “I’m afraid so.”

WEEK 2 — “MUST’VE BEEN A DEADLY KISS,”

You set your katana down onto your bed, shrugging off your sports jacket and tossing it to the ground. Your body hurt. You knew training was going to be hard— considering you’ve never done it professionally— but god you were dragging your body everywhere now.

Training before your wedding wasn’t a good idea, obviously, but you’d rather get thrown into a gravel wall, slammed through the ground and sliced with your own weapon than to think about what your reality was. What it will be.

The relationship with your mother is special— it’s sacred. Your entire life, you felt left out and alone. Second choice. You were always second choice… but never with your mother. You weren’t a choice to her, not an option— you were a want. And soon, she’ll be gone.

Forever.

You stared at yourself in the mirror, standing in only undergarments, scratches and bruises littering your skin. Your fingers were quick at work, unbraiding the significantly long ponytail that rested on the side of your shoulder.

“Mommy, am I strong?”

“The strongest.”

With a slight frown, you brushed your hair out, watching it poof back up. Doing your hair was a hassle— you missed when your mother would do it. It was so long, so much to handle… but you wouldn’t dare cut it.

Your hair reached to the back of your knees. If there was anything you specialized in, even if it wasn’t fighting— it was your hair. You treat your hair like it’s a prized possession, cause that’s what it is. It’s yours. It’s the only thing you have that you can control. It came from you, you control the length and color.

It’s yours.

You dipped your foot into your bath water— nice and warm, just how you like it. After sinking into the water, you pulled your scraped knees to your chest. The water was clear— not a bubble in sight. The water felt… silent. That’s what you needed. Silence.

Your wet cheeks rested against your knees, staring off at the tile on the walls. You counted each of them, hoping to past time, to keep passing time. You wanted to hold the fast forward button on your life. Skip the part where you marry a man who dislikes you, your mother dying— the fight that can ultimately kill you.

Everyone dies, always. You’ll even be dead soon.

The pathetic option to get married and have kids— despite not knowing if your body can handle childbirth because of your power. Or, you could battle your brother… the brother who’s traveled and specializes in each element he practices. It’ll all be a joke. You’ll be dead anyway.

Those were your options.

You stared down at the clear water, not an emotion on your face. It’s all designed for you to die.

You couldn’t even tell if the droplet that splashed was access bath water or a tear.

Nor did you care.

WEEK 1 — “ONLY LOVE, ONLY LOVE.”

“Thank you guys for coming,” Now surrounded with family, everyone sat in their assigned seats— excited for the rehearsal to be over so that tomorrow… they could see you get married. The first big wedding this Clan has ever had. “Everything seemed to go fine, just a few things that need to be touched up. I’m very grateful you all took the time for today and tomorrow— it means a lot to my fiancé and I.”

Gojo stands next to you, adverting his eyes from the crowd, and back to you. Something’s definitely changed. You seemed more enthusiastic about the wedding— as if you turned on a light switch and all of a sudden… this wedding was the only thing you were looking forward to.

Nonetheless, he smiled over to your family. He bends down to reach the mic, his barrier blocking you both from touching. He looks at the crowd from his glasses. “Feel free to eat and chat. We’ve gotta get going soon, big day tomorrow.”

Your family members all smiled, standing from their seats to walk over to the food. The room filled with chatter once again, everyone taking their eyes off the lovely couple— and your facade dropped. The smile on your lips, bright eyes… it all went away within seconds.

Gojo noticed, and before he had the chance to speak, you were both met with your father walking up the steps, hands deep into his pockets. Despite knowing the news, he was still in a happy mood. Nothing saddens your father more than knowing he had a daughter, so it doesn’t surprise you.

He watches you both, noticing the seemingly awkward tension— but deciding against speaking on it. He turns to look at you, “I’ve been thinking about inviting Ryou. I’m sure he’d want to see his sister getting married.”

Of course he thought about inviting the man superior to you, to your own wedding! Nothing surprises you anymore. All you could do was shrug, sending him a tired smile. “Sure, father. I’m sure Mom would love to see him.” And with that, you walk past Sousuke, no energy to argue with him.

The whole situation confuses Gojo. What could’ve possibly shifted the dynamic between this family within just a few weeks? Is the fight happening sooner than later? Is there an agreement he wasn’t aware of? Is someone dying?

Is someone dying. Gojo huffs, finally catching onto the situation. He should’ve guessed it when Himari never showed up to the rehearsal tonight— plus, you were now finally on board with the wedding she was excited about.

Your mother was dying.

WEEK 0 — “ONLY LOVE CAN HURT LIKE THIS.”

“Dammit, Himari,” Gojo sighs, standing at the end of the woman’s hospital bed. “You makin’ me do this sooner rather than later, huh?”

His eyes scan over the woman. He’s surprised she’s made it this far— extremely malnourished, pale, damn there skin and bones. He wasn’t sure if you were suffering more from seeing your mother dying, and knowing she’d die soon— rather than the death itself.

Gojo makes his way over to the side of her bed, sitting on the space beside her. The room was cold, it was blue— walking in here put him in some kind of depressive state and he wasn’t sure why. He’d only talk to the woman a few times, had a few moments with her, but he was still… sad.

“She’ll win.” He keeps his eyes on her closed ones, her eyelashes resting pretty on her cheeks. Even sickly, she was still a beautiful woman. He could see the similar features between Himari and her daughter.

“I give you my word.”

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