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williamsracinggf · 2 months

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you don't go to parties * vrau

what would life be like if they'd never resolved their issues after their crash in montreal?

word count: 1.8k

notes: hi posting on here again bc the lack of applause is kinda driving me crazy idk sue me i guess

in case you're not aware, disneyprincemuke got shadowbanned and i reFUUUUUSE to not be the centre of attention when i poured my whole pussy into a fic so here i am using my main to post </3 (i live for the applause)

(series masterlist) | (📂 in every other life)

she looks around the bar, heart pounding in her head as she tries to sift out for a familiar face in the crowd of the club. her face and name are plastered on every single screen of the bar, as per max’s drunken request when he got here before she could. apparently, winning your first championship doesn’t grant you the immunity to escape media commitments; it actually gives you more. especially when you’re the first woman, and you’ve set the new record as the youngest driver to ever win it.

everyone she loves and wants to celebrate with is here in this club with her right now, except the one person she prayed and hoped would show up for her.

realistically, she should be happy. in fact, she should be ecstatic that she’s finally managed to prove all of the doubters wrong. but her heart is heavy and she’s got tears in her eyes as she continually looks around with hope that the person she wants to be here, changed his mind. but no.

she’s walked about 3 rounds in the club, went high and low searching for the familiarity that his company brought her. alas, he is nowhere to be found.

she didn’t want to believe sebastian at first when he told her that he saw logan leaving the paddocks shortly after the evening was over for him. and he knew that for a fact because the american had bid him a cheerful goodbye before leaving the paddocks with his girlfriend.

“why are you all alone here, world champ?” max hums, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. he pulls her into his side and presses a kiss on her temple as he guides her through the crowd around them. “you’re supposed to be with us celebrating — not hanging out here by yourself. everyone’s been waiting for you at the vip area.”

she looks up at him, lips turned down into a frown as she follows him willingly. she hesitates asking her question — they’ve been over this several times since it had blown up in her face — but she does, anyway. she takes a deep breath and cranes her neck back to look at logan. “have you seen logan anywhere?”

“oh.” max stops in the crowd, earning them a couple of curses from intoxicated clubgoers. “you’re looking for logan.”

max isn’t saying that he’s upset to hear the question. although, if anyone were to ask him, he’d prefer not to discuss this right now on one of the most important nights of her life. plus, they’ve talked about logan over and over.

“yeah. i haven’t see him at all since we stood on the podium tonight,” she says softly in a shakey voice. “have you seen him?”

she saw him very briefly as she was presented with the race trophy. she caught his gaze as he watched from the crowd below, hovering not too far away from the crowd that had formed, his jaw clenched and his arms folded over his chest. she tried to smile at him, but the older man simply turned and walked away before she could.

she tried searching for him in the paddocks, but she couldn’t catch up to him the one time she saw him. a reporter had stopped her before she could make a run after him.

max presses his lips together and looks down at her. should he just tell her the truth? but something tells him that she already knows that logan isn’t in attendance tonight. perhaps sebastian told her and she just needs another person to find reason with? “mate…”

she laughs dryly, immediately wiping the tear that’s fallen out of her eyes. “yeah. okay, let’s just go.”

she pushes max away slightly and starts walking back in the direction they were heading originally. she doesn’t know why she’s still so upset over it. the season has come and gone without logan’s friendship — that’s about 5 long months of attempting to get over their downfall.

“mate, come on,” max sighs, pulling her back into him. “you can’t keep dwelling over it, you know? you approached him and he simply didn’t want to be friends anymore. you did what you could.”

perhaps max is right. to an extent, she thinks. she will tell you that you are right to an extent when you bring up the fact to her — the fact that she did eventually tried reaching out to logan after she put her pride aside and apologised to him.

“i could have done more,” she says firmly, grabbing max’s arm to tear his grip from her. “i shouldn’t have been so stupid in canada. i wound up fucking winning the championship, anyway.”

max shakes his head. it seems that no one can get through to her. it’s been 5 months since the incident where they crashed out in montreal and when she fell out with logan. he never thought that there would be another falling out as bad as this in the sport.

when it first happened, sebastian had tried to talk the girl out of her anger. she was insistent, for a week after the crash, that she was right and logan’s wrong; that logan should be the one apologising to her. he desperately scraped at what he could to get her to talk to him, knowing how bad it’s gotten — she didn’t even bother heading back to their shared apartment after that weekend, she stayed in her parent’s home for the next week after the canadian grandprix.

mark had also tried stepping in to talk her out of it, but nothing the australian said to her ever stuck. oscar had finally stepped forward as well, eventually, to try and get his best friends to make up. even he wasn’t enough of a bargaining chip.

and then the most unexpected duo decided to come together, much to their own dismay, to try and talk to her. lewis and nico spoke to her together and snapped her out of her blind anger. she would wind up showing up to their apartment with an apology and 2 tubs of ice cream.

only to find out that logan had already moved out over the 2-week break without saying anything to anyone.

she tried reaching out and approaching logan in the paddocks thereafter, but the older man was simply not interested in rekindling the friendship. he would be civil with her when he had to, but overall, he would avoid her like they hadn’t spent the past half of their lives under the same household and growing up together.

as hard as it was for her, imagine how difficult it was for oscar to be in the middle of all that. it had gotten increasingly difficult to manage hanging out with either. when he had taken a step back to reflect and think about it, logan realistically needed him more than she did.

so when she thought she’d only lost one best friend, she’d unknowingly lost two at the time.

but she didn’t lose oscar the same way she lost logan. while oscar kept some distance from her, choosing logan’s plans over hers and talking to her less, his way of going about it hurt her more than logan’s disappearance from her life ever did.

it’s like he was there, but not there.

which is why it’s a shock that oscar stayed in the paddocks for her after she cleaned herself from the champagne showers with a bouquet of flowers in his hands.

at that point, she hasn’t hung out with oscar since their weekend in barcelona for their race, so she didn’t ask any questions. she just left the paddocks with oscar and mick, trying to brush off the odd and uncomfortable feeling that would rise up whenever she remembered the state of their friendship. but what’s important was that oscar showed up for her again when she needed him.

she just wishes logan would come out and do the same.

she stumbles forward as a body hits her shoulder on accident. “oh!” oscar screams with a smile. he slings his arm around her shoulder. “we were looking for you, mate! we’re gonna order the house special for the world champion!”

it hurt oscar to distance himself from her — he didn’t only lose her when he did that, he also lost blythe, ciara and dalton in the process.

while the 3 younger siblings understood and kept their distance as well after the fight, he couldn’t help but feel empty at the way they were so good at doing that out of respect for their older sister.

he just wishes it hadn’t gotten to this point. he missed her, really, but he couldn’t just leave logan’s side. she had more people supporting her than logan did when they were in the paddocks.

he would only catch glimpses of her life on her instagram and sometimes when they would have a chat to catch up. if he’s lucky, lily would tell him what they discussed over their frequent hang outs. even then, it simply isn’t the same as hanging out with the girl he thought would be his best friend forever.

“i love that drink!” max screams. he pushes her forward with a small and apologetic smile. “come on. we’ll have fun with you tonight. the club is ours — yearly tradition of the world champs.”

“yeah, but–“

“hey, i’ve been looking for you all over the place.” as oscar steps away from her with a laugh, another arm slings itself around her shoulders. she turns her head, furrowing her eyebrows as she meets with blue eyes that shine through the dimness of the club. “you’re just right here all along.”

she laughs sheepishly, throwing her head back with a soft laugh. “yeah, um,” she shakes her head, “just scoping out the place. it’s different when you’re the one the night’s dedicated to, i guess.”

and when logan had pulled away from her, another person had stepped in and tried to be there for her. she doesn’t know where it came from — perhaps it’s her association with sebastian, or that they were in prema together — but mick came forward and started being there for her more.

which then, well, led to this.

“ah, i thought you’d escaped to the peacefulness of our hotel room,” mick laughs, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “ready to get drunk tonight, love? promise i won’t marry you this time around.”

oscar snorts, walking around the three of them. he pushes them all forward in the direction of where the rest of the grid — and her team — is waiting for them. “not until her dad stops fanboying over the fact that his eldest is on the path to being an actual schumacher.”

mick snorts, pulling her into his body. “i need to get over the fact that my girlfriend’s the youngest world champion in formula 1.”

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youunravelme · 7 months

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hiiii congrats 🥳 so amazing!! you’re amazing!! love seeing you on my dash/notifs and especially your fics!! they’re amazing

only if you have time, but could you do “I saved a piece for you.” with mat <3

i know we don't really talk, BUT ILYSM! your writing always brings a smile to my face!!

this got out of hand, but here ya go!

mat knew you were a hopeless romantic, it was one of the reasons he fell in love with you. the way you sobbed when watching the end of 27 dresses despite it being a very upbeat and happy ending or the way you squealed and thanked him a million times every time he so much as came home with a bouquet of flowers.

you made it easy for him to be a good boyfriend, your very reactions to his love made him only want to love you even more.

"babe?" he walked through the front door, ready to be accosted by your warm hug.

but it never came.

mat furrowed his brows and walked further into your apartment. he found you standing in your bedroom, throwing the clothes you packed across the room while you cried.

"baby, what's wrong?" mat hurried across the room to pull you into his arms but you shrieked and pulled away.

"stay away!" you cried. "i'm sick."

mat stopped, even though he wanted nothing more than to hold you, but not at the risk of upsetting you even further. "talk to me, how can i help you? what's going on?"

you collapsed face first into bed and sobbed. "stupid martha came to work when she was sick and got me sick. so i can't go to the wedding with you, mat. i'm sorry."

mat was quick to sit down next to you and start rubbing your back. "it's okay, i'll just tell ethan we can't make it and--"

you sat up immediately. "no! you're going mathew barzal."

"i can't just leave you here."

you set him with a hard look. "you can and will. i'll get a friend to help me, but you need to be with ethan on his big day." you cried a little more. "just promise me you'll eat some cake, diet be damned."

mat rolled his eyes but a smile was playing on his lips. "it's just cake, babe."

you scoffed. "no, wedding cake is the best cake because it tastes like love and promises and commitment and cherishing the one you adore." if you didn't look so serious, mat would've laughed at how stopped up you sounded.

"okay, if you say so," he conceded.

"i'm glad you see it my way." you paused. "you know what this means, right? me being sick?" mat shook his head. "you can't sleep in here tonight."

he scoffed and pulled you into his chest before placing kisses up and down your neck. "like hell i am, i'm sleeping in our bed with you."

you eventually acquiesced that night, but not without establishing a pillow wall between the two of you (which mat discarded quickly after you fell asleep.

the next morning, he let you sleep while he gathered his things and headed for the airport, leaving his entire heart back in new york.

ethan was the one who picked him up from the airport, and he immediately asked where you were. when mat explained the situation, his friend seemed a bit bummed, more so for mat than anyone else.

"god, i couldn't imagine leaving my fiance at home while i was in another country."

mat blinked. "you do that literally all season long."

but ethan shrugged him off.

when the day of the wedding came, mat's hands felt empty. usually, at the other weddings you'd attended together, you were attached at the hip. mat had a hand on you at all times. though, if he was being fair, his physical touch was not exclusive to weddings and parties.

he couldn't help but think of you in every decoration, every song that was played. he could picture you now wearing the dress you picked out for that very occasion. he could see you walking down the aisle towards him wearing the ring that was currently sitting in his bedside table drawer.

after his speech, mat stepped outside and dialed your number. it rang three times before you picked up.

"mat?" god he loved the sound of your voice.

"hey baby, how're you feeling?"

"i'm fine, have you eaten the cake? how did lenasia look? was she gorgeous? i bet she was beautiful."

he laughed into the phone. "you sound like you're feeling better."

"a little, i miss you though."

"i'll be home tomorrow, i promise. and then we can enjoy the rest of the off season together. how does that sound?"

"sounds like heaven."

the wedding continued on, with mat sneaking a slice of cake to take home to you. he partied, but hated you weren't there to dance to some cheesy ed sheeran love song. he laughed at jokes, but wondered what you would've found funny. he watched ethan and his wife dance together and couldn't help himself from messing with his ring finger on his left hand, wondering what it would feel like to feel cold metal there.

"you okay, barzy?" ethan must've stepped away from the dance floor while mat was zoning out.

he smiled. "never better."

"but you miss her," ethan supplied.

"but i miss her." mat shrugged. "i'll see her tomorrow though."

"is she feeling any better?"

mat nodded. "she's fine now, hates that she missed it."

"it happens," ethan said. "besides, i'm sure we'll see her when you two get married." mat flushed. "that's still the plan right? next month?"

"next month."

ethan smiled and slapped his friend in the shoulder. "best decision you'll ever make."

mat flew home the next day. he politely took a few photos with fans, but for the most part sprinted out of the airport just to get home to you.

he couldn't drive fast enough. couldn't get enough green lights. the elevator up to your penthouse felt too slow.

but it was worth it when he opened the door and saw you wearing his sweatshirt (that had mysteriously gone missing two weeks ago) watching yet another rom com.

he didn't even say hello. didn't greet you. he just sat his bag down and pulled out some tupperware and held it out to you.

"i saved a piece for you," he said.

your eyes watered until you jumped off the couch and into his arms. "i love you i love you i love you!" you exclaimed before taking the cake from him and diving into it. you moaned at the rich flavors before smiling at him. "this is so fucking good. isn't wedding cake the best?"

mat shrugged. "their cake was decent, but i bet ours will be better."

#1k celebration #mat barzal x reader #mat barzal imagine #mathew barzal imagine #mat barzal #mathew barzal #nhl blurb #nhl imagines #nhl imagine

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pedgito · 1 year

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hey, im a big fan of your writing. I am also a big fan of Javier Peña, Joel and Din lmao. So can I request a story about either one of those (mostly sfw mainly because im in my feelings) that is more of a hurt/comfort angst? Maybe bottled feelings are freed, a near death experience occurs after a heated confession that didn't go well...? idk I leave it up to you if you want to write it of course. Anyways, again, love love your stories, especially the way your portray Javier. Have a nice week <3

pairing | javier pena x fem!reader

content warning | mostly sfw, arguments over commitment/relationships, mention of violence (bombing), descriptions of minor injuries and emotional distress, just lots and lots of angst [2.6k]

author’s note | this screamed javi so hard so i couldn't pass up the opportunity to write some angst for him

↝ other fics | requests? | ao3

You’ve been at it for months now, waiting for Javier to finally give in and confess to you what he’s been holding back for so long—he’s so closed off it’s impossible, his back turned to you as he grips the chair shoved into the small dining table tucked in the corner of his apartment.

This was supposed to be a one off job, spend a couple months down in Bogotá with Steve—play alongside him in the hopes of catching Escobar, settling into a mix between the three of you, realizing fairly quickly that Peña wasn’t the type of nice guy you were used to.

He was brazen, straight-forward and a little bit—scratch that, a lot of an asshole, so full of himself that it oozed out. Still, that didn’t stop you from climbing into his bed a week into your stay, breaking the one rule you had.

Never fucking sleep with your co-workers.

Look where it got you; fighting an emotionless wall of stone.

He wants you, but he can’t have you. He doesn’t want to see you with other people, but he can’t stake his claim and call you his—but god forbid you so much as consider eyeing another person, someone interested in showing you the attention you wanted, that you deserved. His jealousy is unmatched, the curl in his lip when he sees you across the room around them, the short and fleeting touches they gave to your arm in passing—from your perspective, a simple gesture between friends, but to Javier, it's a threat.

And it wasn’t that he didn’t try to show you attention—Javier was more than that, all-consuming in a way, passionate to a fault. But, he was not a lover type guy.

Still, you were naive enough to think you could change that.

“I’m not doing this anymore,” You spoke strongly, watching the tilt of his head as looks down, burning a cigarette held between his fingers, “whatever this is—we can forget about it.”

“Yeah—I’m sure the others will have a fuckin’ field day when they catch wind,” Murphy let it slip once and it’s been the constant topic of conversation, playful teasing toward you but torture on Peña who likes to keep things private, always, “always eye fucking you across the room.”

“Who cares, Javi?” You ask, feeling like you were talking to a ghost as he refused to look at you. “You don’t give a shit what’s going on here, why should I?”

And it hurts because you do.

It was innocent at first, one hookup that should’ve ended that night. But, one turned into several and eventually you were spending most night at Javier’s apartment to the extent of grabbing dinner on the way there—or, for fucks sake, cooking for the man. You knew that he loved breakfast in the mornings despite his constant refusal to eat it, how he couldn’t focus without his first cup of coffee and why he kept his gun at his bedside and the spare under the mattress.

He’s got scars, faint but visible when you lay against his chest at night—some from childhood, some not, but you wouldn’t know had you not spent the time with him and watched the vulnerability he showed when it was just you, just him after a long, stressful day trying to catch a terrifying monster and the both of you itching to burn off steam.

“You can’t ask me on a date, can’t—jesus—you can’t even look at me, Javier.” He hears the break in your voice, how hard you’re struggling to keep things together.

And you’re fuming, furious, aiming to hit him where it really hurts. You want him to feel. Feel anything.

“You like to play house and let me cook you meals, act like I’m yours when it’s convenient for you.” He twitches at that, slamming the burnt end of the cigarette into the ashtray. It’s the only real sign of emotion he’s shown all morning. “That’s all you care about. Egoísta.” (Selfish)

He slams the ashtray down roughly, ashes flying over the table. You don’t jump or flinch, not at all fazed by his outburst. You saw it too often during work when things fucked up or didn’t go his way. When he did show emotion it was intense and full body.

“I told you,” He says slowly, turning toward you now, “I don’t do this,” He punctuates slowly, fingering wagging between the both of you, “I can’t do—this.”

Clearly.

“Can’t or won’t?”

The difference is staggering, truly. You wanted an answer.

“You tell me you never want me to leave your bed, your apartment, that you want to keep me here forever because there’s nothing that makes you feel this close to home—and you can’t do this?”

He speaks it against your lips almost every night when he’s pulling you into his chest, pressing those soft lips of his against your forehead and kissing you with a tenderness reserved only for you.

Javier never answers, gaze growing more intense by the second, bound to retreat from the situation before emotions boil over—but you beat him to it, grabbing your bag and storming out without a word.

He’s never had to beg you to stay and he doesn’t realize how desperately he’d wished to ask you until a few hours later, a phone call from Steve that has his heart dropping into his stomach, the equal worry in Murphy’s voice as he relays the information.

Steve mumbles your name—hurt, bomb, Escobar written all over it, dead, so many dead.

You’re lucky to still be standing—or rather alive, forced onto a gurney lined in the aisle of some rundown Bogota hospital where the workers were running rampant, clearly on edge and scrambling to save lives.

It was minor compared to what could have been. A small concussion, some lacerations to your face and a nasty gash on your side that required some stitching. It wasn’t anything some pain medication and bandages couldn’t fix, but in that commotion you had lost all of your belongings, undoubtedly damaged beyond repair. You had been in the shopping center ten minutes prior to the explosion and you were shaken, admittedly, wondering why your life had been spared over so many others.

And you always hear about your life flashing before your eyes during a near death experience, never really believing it until it happens—and selfishly, you couldn’t think about anything but Javi.

He was a nasty parasite, the kind that sucked the life and energy out of you, took everything and gave nothing in return. You knew how he was going into things, knew he wouldn’t budge or change his ways.

But still, there was a hope that maybe he would change.

The first thing you manage to do when you find a phone is call the embassy—anyone who would answer and let them know what happened, but they were miles ahead and already fifty feet deep into investigating.

Carillo is the first to ask if you’re okay, not that it matters—but then Murphy is scrambling for the phone, a soft commotion in the background as he argues with the man until he finally lets up and hands it over.

“God, we thought you were dead. Please tell me you’re alright?” Murphy pleads, sounding just as strained and worried as you’d expect, “All your limbs, nothing missing?”

You laugh softly into the phone, the first breath of life back into after what has been a terrible day. It’s already evening, the day has come and gone and the sun is setting without a trace of anyone coming to help.

Not that you expected it—Javier wasn’t the type to get over things easily.

“Yep. Head’s still attached and everything.” And Steve can appreciate your way of coping, adding a bit of lightheartedness to a dark situation. You release a shaky breath, squeezing the plastic tighter until cracks under your grip, “Is there—I mean, they just discharged me, but I don’t have a ride.”

“Javier didn’t pick you up?” Murphy asks, sounding confused. “I told him—he should’ve…”

He trails off, cursing away from the phone as he speaks to someone distantly, “Which hospital are you at?”

You look around for any indication, reading off an unfamiliar name to Steve as he repeats it, scribbling it down on a piece of paper.

“Shit—Javi’s probably clear on the other side of town from you.” Murphy runs a tired hand through his hair, over his face. “They told us they sent everyone to the one here close by the embassy.”

Everyone.

Families searching for their missing—you couldn’t even imagine it.

“He—does Javi think I’m—“

“Shit, I don’t know. He’s been on edge since he got here this morning, we’ve been trying to figure something out, anything—he left a few hours ago when we weren’t getting answers and I just—did something happen?”

“I think I pushed him too far this morning,” You say softly, huddling closer to the wall as the halls become more crowded, louder and suffocating in a way that has your curling around yourself slightly, mindful of the pain in your side, “fuck, maybe this is karma, Steve.”

“Hey, no—don’t say that shit,” He stops you in your tracks, “Javi is…Javi, you can’t predict anything he’s gonna do. Dude’s a fuckin’ brick wall half the time.”

There’s a long moment of silence.

“Steve, I don’t have my phone.” You tell him, “Can you just—call him? Let him know. I need to find a cab or someone willing to drive me back to Bogota if that’s even fucking possible. I don’t even have my wallet or badge with me.”

It’s almost like a divine intervention that you hear Javier on the other end, cutting through the flurry of other voices and busy telephones ringing. He’s wrenching the phone out of Steve’s hand before he can get a word in.

“Querida,” He says soft, voice quivering slightly, “Querida, is that you?”

You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to will yourself to remember how badly things ended earlier in the day, even if they didn’t feel as important now, they were still important to you.

Emotions were high now, but the fallout could be devastating.

“Yes, I’m—Javi, I’m okay. A little banged up and stuff but I’ll survive,” The silence grows as he absorbs the information, “Look, I need to go. I have to find a ride back to town.”

“Don’t move,” He says briskly, suddenly, “Fuck—I mean stay there, no te vayas. I’m coming for you.” (Do not go)

The line cuts before you have a chance to reply.

You love how well he sticks out in a crowd despite how he likes to blend in and not draw attention to himself, but he’s all tanned skin and shiny with a layer of sweat that tells you he probably ran a few blocks to get here.

You did wait, even if it was closer to a half hour before there was any sign of him, despite how upset you still were, you waited.

Of course you did.

His eyes dart around nervously before they land on you, tucked away in a corner as you cradle your side and he’s barreling toward you, scooping you up before you can protest. The small squeak you release has him pulling back like someone stabbed him with a hot brand, brows furrowed with worry.

“My side,” You mumble, shifting his hand away from the wound, watching as it falls helpless to his side again, his gaze lingering over your body, face, seeing the amount of damage you took, “hey—I’m fine, all things considered.”

Javier blinks slowly, rubbing around the side of your jaw, careful of the small bandage covering a nasty cut, that familiar pout growing on his lips. You saw it earlier, but the implication was different.

This wasn’t anger. It was worry.

“Mi amor,” He murmurs, oblivious to the commotion around you both as he looks at you, almost straight through you, “fuck—I’m so sorry.”

You breathe through your nose deeply, shaking your head as you grip his wrist for leverage, pulling him alongside you until you’re outside, away from the crowd of people and alone.

“No, I’m sorry.”

And for once, Javier is surprised.

He knows you always have a comeback poised on your tongue, the will to fight and work through any argument that surfaces, but this is defeat. It’s clear as day on your face in the way it falls, eyes softened to the point of near tears and your cheek covered in a dark bruise that makes his chest hurt.

“I don’t know why I’m forcing you to answer to something you don’t want,” That something in question was you, but it didn’t matter, “maybe we let things drag on too long. I was just—happy, I liked it. I shouldn’t have expected anything from you since you were clear from the beginning.”

Even with Javier being the first to cross the lines he drew himself, asking you to stay that one night and never going back, making mistake after mistake until it stopped feeling wrong and started to seem, well, normal. But, here you were, taking the blame like he had no wrongdoing in any of this.

“Bebita, no.” His voice is low, thumb rubbing a tender spot in the side of your neck, a soft touch that massages the ache in your muscles, head tilting into the touch as you look at him. “I didn’t want to hurt you.”

Oh, the irony.

“Now look at you,” He says, scanning over your face briefly, “consumes mi mente, nena.” (You consume my mind, baby)

“I can’t do halfway anymore, Javi.” It’s pure honesty, fingers finding his wrist as they wrap around delicate, using his touch as an anchor. “I need all of you.”

“Then have it,” Javier says mindlessly, without thinking and speaking instinct—it’s real, you can see it in the way his eyes widen and soften in the same instance, that pleasing look that entraps you, “tómalo.” (Take it)

The tears that sting your eyes don’t fall, but they rise, blinking rapidly to will them away and force yourself to keep composed despite hearing those words, knowing how deeply he meant them.

“Fuck, I’ll marry you if that proves anything to you, querida.” He’s being over-dramatic, but it has your insides fluttering like wildfire, “I should’ve never let you leave this morning.”

But, he was scared. Terrified of how deeply he felt for you.

“There’s so much you don’t know,” Javier explains, “so much I need to tell you but I don’t want to scare you away.”

As if he could.

“Javi, I’m with you.” You tell him steadily, “I always have been.”

Javier laughs through a sigh, breathing through his nose as he smiles for the first time that day.

“We can talk. We will.” Javier nods assuredly, “But, I want to get you home first.”

Home. He means his apartment, but it comes out that way without realizing.

He’s tender when he helps you shower, cleans your wounds up with what little first aid he has, but he manages, helping you dress in what has to be the most vulnerable moment you’ve had since meeting him.

Javier holds you for a long while after that, curled up in his lap on the sofa as he smokes away with his head leaned against the back of the cushion, rubbing a hand over your thigh softly.

“Hermosa?”

You’re nearly asleep by then, rousing with a small hum.

“After all of this,” He trails on, “when we put Escobar away and this shit is done,” He pauses, taking a short drag from the cigarette and blowing it out into the air, “I want you to come back with me.”

“To Texas?”

He nods, squeezing your leg for reassurance.

“I'm terrified of losing you here, but home—I would never let you out of my sight, I could keep you close.”

His trepidation will always be his downfall, but he knows he can’t let you go anymore. He needs you here, he’ll need you after.

“Anywhere you want, Javi. I’ll follow.”

He doesn’t have any reason not to believe you.

“Buena.” (Good.)

Please consider a reblog if you enjoyed this fic! It’s makes a huge difference. ♡

#javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #javier pena x y/n #javier pena #narcos x reader #narcos #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pas #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x y/n #my writing

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forever-once-gone · 2 months

Text

Day 2: Seokjin - How he had once claimed you as his <3

Part of the Love, Amour, Aur Pyaar drabble series for February!

Word count: 6.3k (obviously, I am once again failing the task of keeping these short lol)

Content and Warnings: yandere au, supernatural au, love, murder, child neglect, fighting parents, child abandonment, reader has a disdain for her fellow humans, reader's father is a deadbeat, reader's mother disappears, Jin is a man (?) obsessed, possessiveness, illusions to future inter-clan wars, vows of commitment, death, starvation, kissing.

Author's Note: I have no self control. This is again much longer than it should be. At this point it would be considered a whole fic, not a drabble. Also, this is dedicated to @rosquilleta, @/teacakess on Ao3, and the anon who sent me a kind ask ONLY 😤. Thank you dears for commenting 🥰🥰🥰 You guys gave me motivation to write!

You pulled your clothes off, letting them pool at your feet. The day had been rough, foraging through the woods all day took quite a load out of you. You had to go into the forest that surrounded your small town to gather some herbs and other plants and fungi to sell in your little shop. It was hard to maintain the quickly depleting stocks in your shop since you were the only person left who dared to venture into the accursed forest.

You once had a mother who cared for you dearly. She had been warm and loving, and had done everything she could do to raise you after your father had refused to stand up and divulge the fact that he—despite being the village leader’s son—was the secret lover of your mother when she had gotten pregnant. He would often sneak into your house by the outskirts of town when you were a child to try and convince your mother that he had had no choice.

“I’m sorry, dear, you know my father would never accept our relationship. A child out of wedlock? With an orphaned woman, especially from your lineage? It would never work. We’d no doubt be thrown out into the accursed forest, and where would that leave us? Leave Y/n?”

Your mother would never meet his eyes, she never had since the day he’d refused to claim you and your mother at the town meeting. Instead, she’d just make it clear that he had no place in her or your life any more. “I don’t know why you’re here, your highness.”

“Don’t call me that,” he’d beg. “I’m not a prince, I’m not anything like that. We are one, my love. Stop mocking me with those words. We’re equal here.”

“You may not be a prince, nor have any royal blood, but your words make it clear that you think you’re high above me. My lineage? What do you mean by that? You know as well as anyone that there is nothing about me that is cursed. Just because my family was the only one brave enough to enter into the forest, doesn’t mean that we’re cursed! You surely didn’t think I was cursed before I became with child!”

“Do not twist my words, my love. You know I do not think of you like that, but you must admit it is strange how every member of your family had disappeared in those woods for centuries. You cannot ignore how implicating that is, my dear.” He had raised his hands in an almost pleading manner, trying to play to your mother’s emotions.

But your mother had little to no feelings left for the one who had been her biggest betrayer. “My family may have all disappeared into the woods, but that is only because we’re the only ones who actually dare to enter it! And you cannot ignore the fact that anyone else who was not in my family line who had entered the forest, did not ever return, even though it was all of their first time entering the woods. The fact that my family has, for generations, been able to enter and leave the forest for years, before we finally disappear. Compared to everyone who disappears the first time they enter,I think we may be the blessed ones, not cursed. Besides, nobody seems to think we’re cursed when they want the herbs, vegetables, and fruits we bring back from the forest.” Your mother saw you peeking out from the bedroom.

“Y/n, go back inside, dear. You do not have to hear this.” She began to walk towards the door, shooing you further into the room. “Go to sleep.” She softly clicked the door closed after giving you a reassuring smile.

You walked back into bed, pulling the various knit blankets over you as you heard your mother telling your father that he had overstayed his welcome once again.

Spending nights hearing your parents arguing in the next room over, was not new to you. As far back as you can remember, your father would covertly enter your house to try and get your mother to forgive him, to let him be a father to you. He would bring you clothes, sometimes toys, other times blankets to try and win you over. You would politely take the objects before your mother would usher you back into your room.

But you knew better than to think that he actually meant to make it up to your mother. He’d always ask for forgiveness, but never ask to accept her and reveal to the village that you were his child. Your mother had questioned him the night of your ninth birthday—the last birthday you had with her—of what his true intentions were of coming here, night after night. He’d been a bumbling mess, too embarrassed to say in front of your mother that he really had no intentions of revealing anything. He really just wanted to relieve himself of his guilt, or at least, that’s what it had seemed like to you.

If he really cared, he would stand by your mother and yourself.

But then again, he never married following his parting from your mother.

You would wait to hear the front door shut behind your father. You would hear silence as your mother sat at the dining table for, usually, ten to twenty minutes after he’d left before she’d slink back into the room with you. She’d get into bed, and pull you against her chest. Her hand would smooth over your head, and sometimes she’d whisper apologises to you, thinking you were asleep.

She had been the only one who took care of you in your life, the only true one to care for you.

When your mother had disappeared in the forest only a few weeks before your tenth birthday, you had been beyond distraught.

You had cried in the town square all morning and afternoon, when you had woken up and realized that your mother had not returned in the night. You had begged for someone to help you, to look in the forest for you, to find her. Everyone had walked right past all of you, ignoring your little crying form, clothes soiled from the dirt that you had collapsed in when the village leader had turned you away.

Your father had seemed like he wanted to say something, hesitating when he had found you in the square on his way back to his home. But, in the end, he had walked away from you, leaving you to cry until you lost consciousness.

When you had finally come to, it was the middle of the night. No one was around. The air was cold. And your fingertips had lost all feeling, stiff as you tried to wiggle them around. You had sat up, hoping that you’d see your mother emerging from the forest at the edge of your vision, but you saw no such thing. No such blessing.

You had to pick yourself up from that cold dirt floor, and trudge your way back to your house by the edge of the glade. You had, again, hoped that you’d open the door to find your mother, tending to the fire in the fireplace. Perhaps, stirring a pot that she had hung in it, as she smiled at you, letting you know dinner was almost ready.

But life was not that kind to you.

The few weeks had been tough. You had to learn how to care for yourself all by yourself. You used up all the stored food that your mother would have sold if she had not disappeared. People had not come to your house expecting to buy anything, like they used to when your mother was still around. You had used those supplies and what you had to feed yourself, but when they had come to an end (other than a few jars of preserves, your mother had jarred only a few days before she disappeared that you did not have the heart to open yet), you realized you had to do something to find food.

You had properly dressed up for the first time since your mother’s disappearance. You had ventured out to the river that passed through the glade and bathed. You had scrubbed every last ounce of built up oil from your hair. You had put on your best clothes. You had picked up your basket from the shelf where you used to keep all the items your mother used to sell. And threw on the cloak your mother had sewed for you.

And you did what your family had always done when there was nothing left for them in the village.

You entered the woods.

Your mother had brought you into the woods intermittently from when you were young. You supposed she once had to take you every time when she ventured into the woods when you were a newborn, as there was no one else to take care of you. But by the time you had become old enough not to die of starvation or neglect if left alone for a few hours (about 2 and a half years old), she had begun to cut your trips to the woods. She would leave you alone at home with a snack and some water, promising to return soon.

Following that, she had rarely brought you into the forest. Only a few times in the year. And that was only because she had told you: “One day, I’m sure the forest will take me just like it did my father. Before then, I need you to learn how to navigate the forest, because it will become your only source of trading power with the other villagers, you understand me? It will be tough to be on your own—it was for me too—but I want you to be better prepared for the woods than I was when my father disappeared. I just don’t want you to starve like I did when it happened to me.” Her eyes had darkened. “Not one of those villagers will come to help you, Y/n. Not one.”

You repeated those words to yourself the first time you had entered the forest alone, following the routes that your mom would go through. You foraged for the berries she had shown you, the root vegetables that she had taught you to identify from the stalks that were visible above the dirt, and you checked the traps that your mother had left for small game.

Fortunately, each of the traps had worked and caught a small prey. But unfortunately, all of the animals had started to rot from not being collected all these weeks later. Some had even been scavenged, leaving mangled messes of flesh. You just released the traps, and pushed the corpses away with a stick before re-preparing the traps.

You unconsciously looked around, fearing that you may end up stumbling across your mother’s corpse in a similar stage as the animals you had scraped off the traps. For better or for worse, you had not.

Before the sun could get even close to setting, you returned home. And when you entered the house, a sense of heaviness pushed down on you. A heaviness that came with the realization that this was your new life. You were alone, left to fend for yourself in the forest if you hoped to survive. Left alone to mourn your mother. Mourn her, until you also, just like all your ancestors before you, also disappeared out in the forest.

At least, then, the ghosts of your ancestors could sigh in relief that there would be no more orphaned descendents/children fighting to survive in the glade anymore after you.

You took off the cloak you were wearing and stepped out of your muddied shoes. Only when you sat down at the dining table did you realize something had changed from the way it had been before you had left that morning.

There was a package wrapped up in a sheet on your table. Your breath stopped for a second; could this be from your mother? Was she still alive?

You carefully pulled off the sheet from the contents within, only to find some clothes, a bag of flour, and some goat’s milk along with a note.

I’m so sorry, dear Y/n.

I cannot be the father you deserve, but I will try to provide for you when I can.

Happy birthday, sweet child.

Regrettably,

Your inadequate father.

P.S. I know you will not believe me, but I also miss your mother as much as you do.

Your disdain had grown for him tenfold that night.

Nobody bought from you the first few days after you ventured into the forest. You liked to think it was due to them feeling guilt for how they practically left you to die when your mother disappeared. But you knew the truth, it was much more likely they were worried that you were still unstable and could lash out on them. But after a week of you putting up the open sign by your front door, two mothers had come to you unabashedly, asking for the one of the types of root vegetables your mother used to get from the forest in exchange for a couple eggs.

When the two women had been able to leave your house unharmed, the others slowly made their way back to making their visits to your little house, offering trades and money for the goodies that only grew in the accursed forest. And with that, you had set a routine. A routine involving spending half your time in the woods and half your time in the glade.

And with this routine, you were able to brave your way through the days, then the weeks, the months, and even the years.

And before you knew it, you were twenty-five. Had spent much more time on your own than the time you had spent with your mother. Over fifteen years since she had disappeared without a trace.

It had also been fifteen years since you had truly felt cared for.

Sure, your father still left you gifts here and there. But that didn’t make any warmth spread through your body. It didn’t help the fact that you hadn’t had anyone to laugh with in all these years. No one to talk to about anything beyond types of vegetables and game. The only time when you had a conversation longer than a couple of words was when one of the men from the village would try and haggle with you for a rabbit that you had brought back in from the forest that morning.

Your father was not much comfort either.

He still wrote you short messages when he would leave packages on your doorstep, but they were as worthless as all those visits he made to see your mother when she was still around. His reassurances were hollow, and you didn’t care to give him the time of day.

You’d become just like your mother, in that even when you saw him around, you’d always turn the other way. In a way, he brought you a bit closer to your mother, since your hatred for him made you understand her cold-shoulder towards him.

You never felt more alone than when you were in the glade with the other villagers, father be damned.

That is why, other than to sleep and to sell your goods, you tended to stay in the accursed forest as much as you could. Even though it made the villagers whisper how you must be more dangerous than your mother since she didn't spend nearly as much time in the forest as you did. To that, all you could think was that you didn’t have a child waiting at home for you to raise, unlike your mother. You were certain she would have done the same as you if she didn’t have to care for you back then.

Despite how there was not one other person in the first besides you, just being away from the village made you feel more at peace. You felt more connected with your mother, when you walked her routes, set her traps, and used all the tips and tricks she had taught you when you were young.

Your favorite spot, however, was the small lake in the forest. It was in the middle of a river—its offshoot didn’t cross into the glade, and the running water was always fresh. It was cold in the summer, and warm in the winter; how it exactly managed that, you had no idea. But you had fond memories of it. It was the place where your mother had taught you how to swim. This was the only place where you would see her just sit down and relax, unworried and free.

It had been her spot.

And now, it was yours.

You sat down in the cool water, feeling it wash off the sweat you had accumulated on the voyage through the woods. You were still near the shallow enough edge where you could sit on the floor and the water would only reach up to your armpits. It was nice to let go for a bit.

You sat in the water for a good ten minutes before you wadded deeper into the lake, figuring it was time for you to forage for the underwater plants that people liked to buy off of you to put into soups. You would swim down into the lake, and swim through the thick plant filled bottom of the lake that curled up into the water like bushes. You would push around the rock covered floor to loosen the roots of the plants to get them to release. The leaves would float up to the surface, where you’d collect them later on when you felt you had collected enough.

This time, as you pushed around the large rocks among the dense plants, you felt something warm. You pulled your arm back, expecting to see a fish shoot out of the thicket from your disturbance, but instead, nothing. You were taken aback. You reached out your hand again to see if you would find some freshly dead animal laying in the plants, but when you pushed the plants aside to see, you instead found a large, warm stone.

But it was strange, it was in the shape of a human head.

You felt your eyes bulge out of your head, as you broke through the carpet of plants you had released into the water, immediately kicking to the surface of the lake. You tried to gulp down as much air as you could before you dove straight back into the lake, kicking back to the stone head. You immediately started to check if it looked like your mother, but it did not. It instead looked like a man.

Was this some sort of preserved human?

No, it couldn’t be. It was very much stone.

You circled around the head, pulling away more plants to uncover more stones if you could. You didn’t find any more human head-shaped stones, but you did realize that the stone head was much more than just a head. It was attached to a rock body. It was an entire statue that had been shoved into the lake.

You continued to try and uncover more of the statue between taking breaks where you swam up to the surface for more oxygen. And after about ten minutes you had uncovered the whole statue from under the rocks and plants.

You were surprised that you had never come across this before. This large stone statue that just laid at the bottom of the lake. You just stared at it, honestly, unsure what to do now.

That is until the statue began to rise. You swam back from the statue as it seemed to float up through the water to the lake’s surface, bobbing around with the water plants. How could this statue be so light that it was able to float?

You swam up after it, coming up beside it. You pushed it, testing how light it was, and just from your one light push, it began to drift to the dirt beside the lake where your clothes were. The statue continued to bob around in the shallow water until you dragged it across the pebbles to the dry land.

The statue was of a man with one hand coming up to press the backs of his knuckles underneath his chin. The other curled around his stomach. His lips were full and slightly open. His hair was loose against his forehead. His eyes scrunched together with an expression of pleasure. The statue was also very naked, which made the pose very… suggestive.

Uh…

You really did not know what to make of the statue.

Maybe this is just something that happens in the cursed forest? You find random statues? Statues that seemed like they were in the throes of passion?

But you doubted it. In all your years of coming into the forest, there really was not anything glaringly wrong about it.

It was just a regular forest.

This was the first weird statue you came across.

Other than the fact that when people would venture into it, they’d never return, there was nothing really demonic about the woods.

Hmm.

You stood beside the statue, before you decided, you didn’t really care about it.

Like, what were you really supposed to do? Tell the other villagers? They wouldn’t care. They probably wouldn't even believe you. Or even if they did, they wouldn’t really have any plans of what to do with it either.

So, it was beyond your abilities to care about.

You left it lying by the shore and jumped back into the lake, going out to gather the plants that were floating around, waiting to be collected. You made quick work of it, gathering them all and bringing them to shore. You wrapped them in a cloth to absorb as much water as possible on them before slipping them into the basket with your other goodies.

You then turned to pull on your clothes, humming a little tune to yourself. And when you were all ready, you pulled on your cloak, picked up your basket, and began your trek back home, you were just about to reach the thickening of the trees—

That is until: “Hey! That’s not how this is supposed to go!”

You stopped in your tracks, your grip tightening on your basket.

Did that come from the… lake?

You slowly turned to the lake, and in between the trees you could make out… something.

Ah, this is the day you die isn’t it.

You thought to turn back around and try to make a break for it, but instead, you walked back to the lake, dropping your basket beside one of the trees.

If you were going to die, you were willing to accept it if it meant you’d be able to see your mother again.

When you made it back to the lake, you expected to see a demon or something of the like, but instead it was just the statue again.

But this time, it was standing up. Its arms fists at its hips with its lips frozen in a pout, as though it was mad at you. Its eyes were open this time as it glared at you.

Okay, magic statue it is then.

Was this statue the thing that killed all your family members before?

Well, you hoped it made it quick.

You walked up to it. Stopping just a step away from it. “Um, did you just speak to me? Like you, the statue?”

With a blink, the statue was in another pose, his palm pressed against its forehead, the other hand still against its waist. And without the statue’s mouth moving at all from its slight agape position, it said, “Yes, I did. Now, kiss.”

With another blink of your eye, the statue had once again changed its pose. Its arms were brought up behind his head, posing like a self-absorbed man trying to show off his arm muscles, as its hands pressed to the back of its head, out of sight. His eyes were closed once again.

You weren’t sure what to do. Were you meant to kiss this statue? You really did not want to. “I’m not going to kiss you. Forgive me.”

With another blink, the statue's eyes shot open. “WHAT?!” With another blink, the statue was right in front of you, nose to nose with you, as it bent slightly to glare directly into your eyes. Its arms were crossed over its chest, as it lamented once again, without moving its lips, “This isn’t how this is supposed to go! You’re supposed to kiss me!”

All you felt was annoyance. Was the statue going to kill you or not? You were getting a bit impatient having to deal with its dramatics. “Is that so? And why am I meant to kiss you?”

In less than a second its posture had changed again. Its arms were still crossed against his chest, but this time he wasn’t leaning into your face. Instead, he was standing upright with his head looking off to the right with a deep pout. “The others did!” He whined. “They said I had to win you over, so that’s what I’m trying to do, but you are not cooperating!”

“Who are they?” you asked, adopting his pose with your arms crossed against your chest.

“You know! My people! The ones who govern this forest and our respective lands. I come from the Kim clan, one of the many clans in the nation. I was meant to tell you this after you kissed me.” He remained pouting off to the side.

“So you come from a group of statues?”

He left out an affronted gasp. “Good Earth, no! This is obviously a facade that was meant to woo you! We’re obviously not a people of statues. How absurd of you to even imply that.”

“Then what are you then? And why do you need to “woo” me?”

He changed his position again, now sitting on the ground with his legs crossed, his head propped up on his hand. He looked frustrated. “I would have explained all that to you if you had kissed me like you were meant to. If you want to know, you shall present me with a kiss.”

You sat down in front of him. “That’s unfortunate as I am not going to kiss you.”

His mouth fell open in shock. “I told you, I’ll tell you once you kiss me!”

“Yes, I heard. And I am not going to kiss you,” you insisted, also resting your head on the palm of your hand.

“But that’s what we’re meant to do! The elders told me that I get to be the one from our clan to finally have our turn to get a L/n human as a spouse! They told me I’m meant to come up with a ceremony to sweep you off your feet, and then you’ll be mine! I was only supposed to explain everything else to you after you gave me your hand.”

The statue shot in front of you, now sitting up on his knees, with his hands on either side of your body, his face only a few centimeters from your face again. This time he had his lips all puckered up, with his eyes all scrunched up as if he was prepared for a kiss.

“Now give me a kiss,” he demanded. “And then I’ll tell you everything you want to know. Plus, I can take you back to my lands with me. Now. Kiss!”

“That all sounds well and good.” You leaned back from the insolent statue. “But I’m still not going to kiss you, especially not if it's part of some ceremony.”

The statue was on the ground in a blink of the eye. His knees bent to the sky, as he covered his eyes with his hands. His mouth downturned in a frown. “Why did I have to get the L/n that was the most stubborn of them all?” He seemed to ask no one in particular.

You let him wallow in his self-pity, instead picking at the grass surrounding the both of you. After a few minutes of silence, you asked him, “Has your tantrum completed yet?”

Like a child he said, “no.”

“Well then,” you stood up, brushing the dirt off of your rear, and pulled your hood over your head. “I’ll be off.” You turned and were back on your route, picking your basket up as you passed it.

“Wait!” Finally a man appeared before you, no longer a statue, but a human looking man. His chest was rising and dropping quickly as he held his arms up in front of you, keeping you in place. It was good to see him actually moving, and not just teleporting whenever your eyes closed, it was starting to strain your eyes. “Look, I’m in my true form now, will you just let me explain?”

“Alright, but I will not be kissing you.”

“Yeah, I got that part,” he mumbled, pushing his purplish-pink, wet hair back from his forehead. “Can we sit? And I’ll explain.”

“Could you put on some clothes first?”

He sighed, but in an instant he was dressed in an immaculate, translucent set of fabrics that seemed to shimmer in the early evening light. The clothing was unlike anything you’d seen before. They were in hues of blue and green that flowed loosely over his body as though they were waterfalls that sprouted and fell from his body.

You wondered if they were tangible or something he had just magicked up. You wondered if you were to grab at them, would you be able to feel them or would your fist come back empty.

He walked past you, back towards the lake with his clothes dragging behind him. He looked luxurious.

He went to a different edge of the lake, with giant boulders. He sat down on them, letting his legs soak in the water, his form slumped.

You followed after him, and also sat beside him, but instead of dipping into the water, you sat beside him cross-legged.

He twirled his feet around in the current. “I thought you’d like my entrance. I thought you’d want something romantic for the first meeting you had with me.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I was meant to win you over. You were mine to have, but it’s not that simple. We are not allowed to just steal you away, We need you to come willingly. We need you to fall for us.”

“We as in your people?”

“Yes, my people. We are known by many names to you humans: fairies, fae, elves, pixies, selkies, nagas, tricksters, incubi, demons, witches, immortals. We are shapeshifters, we have magick, we can come to humans however we please. It led to many folklore about us. Really, all those myths stem from our mating ceremonies.”

You waited for him to continue.

“We are only allowed to pick mates from one lineage. In every nation, there is only one family that we can take spouses from. It’s part of our laws, so we do not reveal ourselves to much more than we need to to humans. It also keeps our spouses from fighting amongst themselves, since most of them are on good terms with one another. It prevents clan wars.” He turned to look at you, his hair slightly drier than before.

You took a moment to take in his beauty. He was a handsome man, that you could not deny. You had never met a person with colourful hair like his, other than the one person in the glade with red hair. But this was so different from that. It looked like he’d dyed them with flowers like people did wool, something unnatural for people to have. You couldn’t help but wonder if that was his natural hair colour or if this was one of the perks of being a shapeshifter.

You hummed at him to keep going with his explanation.

“It was agreed upon centuries ago that it would be the L/n family that we would take partners from. As long as they had had time to have children to keep the family line going, we could take our pick of who we wanted. In return, your family got the ability to walk in our lands unharmed. Something that other humans would be… killed for trying to do.”

He eyed you to see what your reaction would be to him admitting to his people killing humans. He didn’t know how to feel when he saw no sympathy for the humans who had perished.

“It was my clan’s turn next to get a L/n, and of course, there was you. I had just turned twenty, and you had been twenty-one. I was entranced right away by you. I wanted to take you right away, after all, it was my birthright. But, the elders of the clans told me I had to wait. I had to wait for you to have a child, but how could I?!” He had turned right towards you, pulling your hands into his lap. “How could I let a human hold you close before I got the chance to? How could I let you raise children with a human, with someone other than me. I couldn’t bear it.”

He had pulled your hands to his chest. “But the clan leaders, Y/n, while they understood me—they had after all had to go through the same thing as I did before they got their L/n—but they told me I must wait. So I did. I waited even though it hurt me. I waited until you had a child so that I could finally take you away, but then it just wasn’t happening! You weren’t meeting people, you weren’t falling in love or having children! It had been five years, and it just wasn’t happening.”

He pulled one of your hands from his chest to come up and cradle his cheek in your hand. “So I spoke with the clan leaders, and they said I still couldn’t take you.”

His arm came around your torso, pulling you against him. “So I decided, I was going to take you. Who are they to stop me from taking my spouse, my mate? Let them burn, I say. Who cares if the remaining clans will not have their own L/n spouses, I do not care. You are mine, and I refuse to wait any longer.” His other arm had come to the back of your head, bringing you closer to his face. “Kiss me, Y/n, and then I can claim you as mine.”

He tilted his head, flickering his eyes closed as he went to close the gap between the two of you, but you instantly put a finger up to his pursed mouth.

“Do you mean to tell me my mother is alive? She was taken by one of the other clans?” Your eyes were urgently digging into him.

The man pulled away slightly, his eyes opening back up slowly. “Well yes. All of your family members are alive in one way or another in our lands.” He could see the way your eyes hardened, he could imagine that you were worried for your mother’s state. “Once we take them, they become ours, Y/n. We tie them to our eternal life so they could be by our side as long as we shall live. We take good care of our spouses, that I can assure you. I’ve met her once before.” He cupped your face in his hands. “She is well, Y/n.”

You felt tears run down your face and onto his hands. “S-She’s alive?”

He nodded.

You collapsed against him in sobs, calling out for your mother. He rubbed your back, trying to calm you down the best that he could.

Fifteen years it had been since she’d disappeared—no, been taken from you.

Fifteen years.

It didn’t matter that she hadn’t come to see you in all those years, you could forgive her for that, but you wanted to see her now. You needed to see the only person who cared for you. You needed her.

You straightened up, wiping your tears away before grabbing onto the man. “Take me to her. I’ll do whatever you want, just take me to her.” You begged in a choked voice.

“I can only do that if you agree to be mine. Only if you kiss m—”

You pressed your lips against his.

For a second he didn’t move, just allowing you to ravage his lips. But once he realized what had happened, he immediately pulled you closer. He pulled you against him and kissed you back with as much fervor as you did. He felt jolts of electricity pass through his body as the vow between the two of you cemented in place.

You were his now.

And he was yours.

When the burning in your chest got too much, you pulled away from the magickal man. Just enough for you to breathe in some air.

He pressed a kiss against the corner of your mouth as you panted. “I suppose it is time for me to give you my name now that you are mine.”

He pressed a kiss to your jaw before he whispered into your neck, “I shall give you my name, as you gave me yours through the completion of the ceremony of the vow. I give you my name: Kim Seokjin.”

Reader won't even realize the gravity of him giving his name to you until they went back to his land and learned more about his people. He really meant the whole "I am yours, and you are mine" thing 😬

Just so you guys know, I wanted to write a bit more to explain why he decided to come to you as a statue, but then this was just already way too long, so I decided not to. Long story short: He was inspired by the Greek myth of Pygmalion and Galatea, and he thought he may woo you (as that is part of the ceremony, he must win you over), by replicating that myth. He thought you'd fall head over heels for his handsome statue self, and you'd kiss him without him even having to ask! Obviously, he was a bit over confident lol.

Maybe at some point, I'll write that Jin explaining to his partner why he did what he did later on in the month or maybe afterwards. I just wanted to write him being all pouty as he explained his plan, but oh well lol.

Anyway, please reblog and comment, it makes my day and motivates me so much! Have a good night!

#yandere bts #yandere seokjin #yandere jin #yandere bts drabbles #yandere seokjin x reader #yandere jin x reader #jin x reader #seokjin x reader #jin fanfic #seokjin fanfic #yandere Kim seokjin #yandere oneshot #yandere drabble #yandere x reader #supernatural au #Ev's writing #series: love amour aur pyaar

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maple-seed · 1 year

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What Ails You

Loki x Fem!Reader

Content: Pining, fluff

Summary: Loki is your closest friend in the tower, which leaves you struggling when you want something more.

Word Count: 3,444

Author's Notes: A fluffy little oneshot to see if I'm capable of telling a story in less than 100k words. Results are mixed! I'm dedicating this one to my friend @sarahscribbles and her follower milestone celebration. Congrats, Saz! You've earned it. <3

AO3 Link

Loki Fic Masterlist

You had decided to take advantage of the quiet and do some reading in the common room. The quiet never lasted long in the tower, and especially not in the common areas. Still, it was hard to beat the way the sun came through the windows in the lounge, so it was worth the attempt. Even if it was doomed to be short-lived, the quiet was nice.

As you turned your page the exact opposite of "quiet" strolled into the room.

"There she is!" Loki's arms spread wide. "My favorite mortal." You kept your face neutral, without looking up from your book. "What do you want, Loki?" Loki feigned hurt. "What do I want? Why should I want anything other than your company?" You looked up at him now. "You want something. You're trying to butter me up with that 'favorite' line." "Darling, it's true. You're more dear to me than anything else on this planet." "Loki, you hate this planet." He smiled brightly, spreading his hands. "All the more reason to rejoice; you have so little competition." You kept your expression hard, though the both of you knew you were going to give in.

When Loki first came to the tower the two of you became fast friends. It was probably easier for you than the others, since you hadn't been around for the whole "world domination" thing. Whether is was that or simply your natural proclivity for mischief, the two of you fell in together almost immediately. Then, later, you did a little more falling on your own. You had managed to keep your feelings under wraps so far, or at least you hoped you had, but every day was a new frustration.

Today it was the way the light hit his cheekbones as he looked down at you, leaning forward onto the back of the adjacent chair.

"Out with it, Laufeyson." You muttered. "Well, if you insist that there must be a favor to be garnered here, there is something that you could help me with." He casually inspected the upholstery, as if anything Loki did could ever be nonchalant. "Oh, is there really? Who could have thought?" "I am wounded. I was simply seeking you out to pass the time. This task was purely an afterthought." You rolled your eyes and closed your book. That was all he needed. "Excellent. You likely haven't heard, but yesterday I was issued an insult of the highest order-" "You once said that about a sandwich I made you." "Yes, and I stand by it. You used cheddar when it clearly called for provolone." You rolled your eyes again and waved for him to continue. "Thor has-" You held up a hand. "Stop. No. I can't prank Thor. He was pretty upset with me last time." He scoffed. "Hardly a concern." "It's a concern to me!" He dismissed it. "At any rate, you will not be committing the trick. In fact, you'll barely be involved at all." You sighed and fell back in the chair. "What do you need me to do?" He grinned, victory in sight. "Very simple. This afternoon after our training Thor will pass through the kitchen for one of those atrocious pastries before heading to his room to shower. Just post yourself in the kitchen and stall him. Distract him for a few minutes. A short conversation is all that's needed." "And what will you be doing during this conversation?" "I will be occupied elsewhere." His smirk told you that he wasn't going to give up anything else. You pursed your lips as you thought it over. Inevitably, you relented. "Fine." "Wonderful!" He stood and rounded the chair, lifting your hand and placing a kiss to your knuckles, which had you scrambling to remember how to breathe. "This is why you are my dearest friend." He flashed you a devastating smile before turning and striding out the room just as he had come.

You watched him leave while the word "friend" settled in your stomach like a lump of lead.

You were perched on a stool in the kitchen with a sandwich that was more of an alibi than a meal. Their training session would be over any minute now and you were peering cautiously down the hall.

"What are you up to, Trouble?" You jumped, nearly falling off the stool, and swung around to Tony. "What? No. Nothing." It was not your best performance. Tony raised a brow at you as he opened the fridge. "Don't give me that. I can tell when you and Prince Harming are scheming. I can practically smell it." You lifted your chin. "I don't know what you mean." "Fine. How about this." He pulled out a Chinese takeout box that was clearly marked "Rhodes" and grabbed a fork from the drawer. "Whatever it is that you're doing, leave me out of it, and I'll keep quiet." He speared a forkful of noodles and took a bite. You watched him for a moment. "Deal." He pointed the fork at you and winked before leaving the room.

You settled yourself back on the stool just in time to see the gods and the super soldiers coming down the hall in their post-workout ensembles. You watched Loki saunter past with his hair tied back, face flushed and glistening, and almost forgot why you were here. The sound of Thor rustling in the pantry brought you back to the task at hand. He had retrieved his pop-tarts and was turning to leave.

"Hey Thor." The greeting was casual. He stopped and smiled at you. "Good evening, my lady." You made a note of the super soldiers rummaging in the fridge. "How'd training treat you?" He grinned and flexed an arm. "You tell me." You laughed and prodded his bicep. "Pretty good. I mean, it's not vibranium, but that's pretty good." Behind Bucky, Steve's eyes widened. He gave you an imploring look and quickly shook his head. "Hah! A measly, metal, mortal arm is no match for a god's physique." Thor shifted and flexed again. Bucky scoffed and turned away from the fridge. "Hey, I gave you a run for your money today!" "Oh, certainly." Thor turned to the super soldier with a jovial smile. "But you are a friend, I didn't wish to hurt you." "What, so you're saying you were going easy on me?"

This devolved in the predictable way. In short order everything was swept off of the breakfast bar and they stood on either side and commenced an arm wrestling match. In the background Steve went about making his post-workout smoothie while periodically shooting them a disapproving look. Loki had said he only needed a few minutes, so when sparks of static began to crackle over their stalemate you stepped forward and placed your hands over their fists.

"Okay, guys, I think you've proven your points." You spoke to them as if they were children. "You're both very strong, I'm proud of you." The situation defused immediately. They reluctantly let go and both grumbled something about the next training session. You took your sandwich and made your way to your rooms.

Loki was already there, which was not a surprise. He often retreated here after pulling off a scheme. As if it were some kind of sanctuary. Maybe it had been at first, but everyone had caught on by now. If someone was trying to find him, his rooms would be the first place they would look. Your rooms would be the second. He was lounging casually on your couch with a book and had apparently used your shower, his dark curls hung damp on his shoulders. You pushed away the mental image of Loki in your shower and took a seat beside him.

"So, are you going to tell me what you were doing?" You asked before taking a bite of your sandwich. "Of course not, darling, I know how you like surprises." "I don't like surprises." "You know how I like surprises." You rolled your eyes. "Trust me, the reveal will be divine." He took the untouched half of your sandwich off the plate and took a bite, immediately frowning at you. "Really? Cheddar?" You smirked and shrugged. "It's my sandwich." He shook his head disapprovingly but took another bite.

You propped your feet up on the table and sat back. The two of you passed the time reading and chatting. It was not much time, the expected interruption arrived fairly quickly.

A pounding fist rang out at your door. "LOKI!" Thor's voice boomed through the wall. You looked to Loki, who smirked and waved you toward the door. More pounding. "LOKI! I know you are in there, you coward! Come out here at once!" You walked to the door and settled your face before opening it. "Hey Tho-" Your words were choked off mid-greeting. A hand flew up to clamp over your mouth as you took in the image before you with wide eyes.

Thor was standing before you, clothes hastily thrown on, it looked like he had showered too. His glorious golden locks had a new color: a vibrant shade of green.

He was wearing a powerful scowl and spoke through gritted teeth. "Where is my duplicitous brother?" You fought back your laughter and dropped your hand. "I'm sorry Thor, I don't know. I haven't seen him since this morning." "Lies!" He boomed. "I know this is his refuge." You stepped back and let the door swing open, giving him a full view of the room. It was empty. Thor scanned the room with a frown, giving you another doubting look. "Maybe check the library?" You offered helpfully. He scowled again, looking across the room one more time before silently storming off.

You closed the door and placed your back against it, immediately breaking into a fit of laughter. Loki reappeared on the couch with a victorious grin.

"Loki! His hair!" You wheezed. "You are awful! He's so mad!" He shrugged. "It was a just retribution." "I doubt that." You wiped away a tear and returned to the couch. "I'm hurt you would take his side in this." "Hey, I'm harboring you, fugitive. That's hardly taking his side." "A true friend wouldn't doubt my motives." That word again. You ignored it. "A true friend wouldn't make me an accomplice." "You would be terribly bored with a friend like that." He stated confidently as he opened his book. "Lots of people like peace." "Not you." You scoffed. "What makes you say that?" "Because you like me." He looked at you, smirking and satisfied. It made you want to grab him by the collar and show him how true that was. Instead you rolled your eyes and crossed your arms. "Barely."

Loki stayed with you until he felt it was late enough to safely return to his rooms. When he was gone you took the throw pillow he was laying on to bed with you. His scent clung to it, and as you fell asleep you told yourself this wasn't pathetic at all.

You arrived in the kitchen early the next morning and made yourself breakfast as usual. Natasha was already sitting at the table with her mug. You took the seat beside her.

"Morning, Nat." "Good morning." She was drinking tea. That was strange. Usually she had coffee, especially this early in the morning. You didn't ask. The others were slowly filtering in and you didn't want to miss Thor's entrance.

You kept an eye on the doorway as you spread jam on your toast, the room filling up with the murmur of quiet conversations. Without notice, Nat reached over and snatched a triangle of toast from your plate. "Hey!" You dropped the knife back into the jar. "You make it so much better than me." She took a bite. You narrowed your eyes. "It's toast." "I know. It's my greatest shame that I can't get it right." She winked. Something wasn't right. You didn't have time to dwell on it, Wanda's gasp told you that Thor had arrived.

You looked up to see him walk through the door, dejected. The green had not faded in the slightest. The room had fallen completely silent. Then it exploded with laughter. It blended together into a roar, with a few jibes being thrown here and there. Thor simply stood and took it with a stern expression. From across the room Tony met your eye, giving a silent thumbs-up and sipping his coffee.

"Alright, alright, that's enough." Thor held up a hand to quiet the crowd. "This is not that funny." "It's pretty funny." Clint replied. Thor scowled. "This is a tremendous slight against me." "Come on, big guy." Tony jeered. "Why so serious?" Another roll of laughter. Thor glowered. "Has anyone seen my treacherous snake of a brother?" A murmur of answers in the negative between more laughs. Thor frowned. "I might kill him for this."

The cacophony had dwindled and normal conversation was returning. You took another bite of your breakfast then froze in place.

Natasha walked into the room, making her way to the coffee pot. She chuckled as she spotted Thor. "That's a look."

Every eye in the room turned in unison to the Natasha sitting next to you. She was wearing a very familiar smirk. "Well, you didn't think I was going to miss the show, did you?" A green light washed over her and Loki sat in her place.

A moment later the shape of Thor blurred past and suddenly the chair was knocked to the floor and two gods were having it out in a frenzy of limbs. The crowd watched with mild amusement as the brothers wrestled on the ground, growling ancient expletives at one another.

"And don't think-" Thor dislodged an arm from around his neck. "that I'm not aware your lady had a part to play in this." Your heart skipped a beat. His lady? "Hah!" Loki twisted a leg free. "You're only trying to target my mortal friend because you can't best me!"

Friend. You hid your reaction but it stung. You didn't need to see the rest, you knew how it would end. They would carry on for a bit then Steve would probably break it up, Loki would eventually change the hair back. You quietly stood and carried your plate to your room.

It was irrational, what you were feeling. You like being Loki's friend. You like that he claimed your room as sanctuary. You like that he steals food from your plate. You like that you were the first person he turned to for mischief.

Still, you want something else. You flopped onto your bed, lovesick, and wallowed for a bit. After a sufficient wallowing you decided you needed some time alone to clear your head. When a familiar knock came from your door you remained quiet and pretended you weren't there. He left. You didn't feel better.

Over the next two days you changed your routine. You ate at different times, trained at different times, you avoided the quiet places where Loki would usually find you. You started to think it was working. You didn't feel that lovesick ache in your chest so much. That came to a sudden stop when you turned the corner in your hallway and ran into Loki. Literally. You slammed into his chest and he caught your arms to keep you upright.

His face lit with a bright smile. "Dear heart, where have you been?" That was a new pet name. It had your stomach floating immediately. "Oh, I've been around. Just... busy. And tired. Tired lately." His hands slid down to take yours, his thumbs caressed your knuckles. "I've missed you." You stared, trying to decipher what his expression might mean and how you should respond. "I've just come from your room." Seeming to remember himself, he dropped your hands. "Barton will be hosting one of his... meat festivals." "I know you know that's not what it's called." He waved it away. "I can't be bothered to learn every inane detail of Midgardian culture." You pointed a finger. "It's a barbecue and you know it." He smirked. "At any rate, I wanted to make sure you would be attending. These rooftop events are unbearable without your company." You couldn't deny him, and numbly nodded. "Yeah, I'll be there. Sure." He smiled a gentle smile. "Excellent news." He took your hand again and pressed a kiss to it, like it was nothing, before releasing you and taking a step back. "Are you busy?" You recovered your faculty of speech. "Y-yeah, sorry. I was just about to go take a shower and head to bed." You glanced away. "Tired, you know." His disappointment was visible, but he only nodded and said, "I won't keep you." You managed a quick smile before stepping around him to head to your room. You felt his eyes on you the entire way.

You shut the door and leaned against it, closing your eyes. How did he do that? It was nothing for him, and you barely made it out of the interaction still on your feet. A cold anxiety settled into your stomach. You were going to end up giving yourself away. Embarrassing yourself. It was inevitable.

You hadn't actually been tired before, but you were exhausted now. You dragged yourself to bed, miserable.

It was inevitable, yes, but you decided to delay it anyway. You kept yourself away the next day, shut in your rooms, and when it was time for the barbecue you messaged the team to let them know you weren't feeling well and wouldn't be attending. You curled up on your couch with your book and did everything you could to avoid thinking about dark-haired gods and their perfect faces.

It worked for a while. Then there was a knock at the door. You knew who it was. You remained silent, maybe he would think you're asleep.

There was another knock, then he called your name through the door. You winced, calling back. "Loki, I'm sick. I'm not coming." "Yes, I've heard." His voice came through muffled. "I would like to come in." "You probably shouldn't. I'm sick." "Darling, you and I both know I can open this door." His tone made it clear that this was a courtesy.

You heaved a sigh, trudged over to the door and pulled it open.

Loki stood placidly on the other side. He didn't look upset, but you felt compelled to apologize regardless. "I'm sorry I didn't come, I'm just feeling a little under the weather." "Never mind it." He stepped past and turned to face you as you closed the door. "I haven't been feeling myself either." When you looked up you found he was studying you. You withered under the scrutiny, looking away and rubbing your arm. "I'm sorry, I'm just not up for having company right now." He wore a soft smile and stepped closer. "Surely you don't consider me to be company." You took a step back and hit the door. "No, I'm just... not feeling well." "Yes, so you've said." He stepped closer again, with a knowing look in his eye. "Tell me, what are your symptoms?" There was no space to back away. "Just... you know... tired." His gaze was making you squirm. He seemed to know it. "You did mention that." His eyes raked over you once and a slight smirk pulled at his mouth. "I think I may have the cure for what ails you." You scoffed. "Right. Of course you do." You looked up at him to retort but froze when you found something new in his expression. "Yes." His gaze was gentle and open. "I believe I suffer from the same affliction." You gaped at him, wide-eyed, and no longer felt the need to get away.

He slid an arm around your waist and dipped forward to kiss you as he pulled you close. You eagerly returned the kiss and as your hands found their way to his neck you felt his muscles relax beneath them. You pulled him closer and he hummed approvingly, his other arm finding its way around you. You clung to him, perhaps the only reason you remained upright. He broke the kiss with a sigh, pressing his forehead to yours. "How are you feeling?" You tilted back to see him more clearly. A smile curved one corner of his mouth, you reached up and traced the crease with your fingertip. "Better." You said quietly, looking up at him through your lashes. "But I think I might need another dose."

****

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@cheekyscamp, @muddyorbsblr, @gigglingtigger, @imalovernotahater, @mischief2sarawr, @goddessofwonderland, @purplekitten30, @lokisgoodgirl, @ultrasnakesona, @ozymdias

#loki #loki x reader #loki fanfic #loki mcu #loki fanfiction #mcu loki #reader insert #oneshot #fluff #pining

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gerrystamour · 11 months

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won't you come and dance in the dark with me?

Rated T | Steddie Week Day 3: First Kiss | 2900 Words | Complete

[ READ ON AO3 ]

With a determined set to his brow and a giddy smile, Eddie leaned forward and said, “I am going to kiss you, Harrington.” Steve’s jaw clenched, both with anticipation and the usage of his surname after all this time. “Call me Steve,” he said almost absentmindedly, his voice a bit strangled as he leaned closer to Eddie. A fully dimpled smile split Eddie’s face. “Stevie,” he sing-songed as he slowly leaned closer. My entry for @steddie-week Day 3, for the prompt first kiss! Yes, indeed, I was inspired to write this fic by this gifset I reblogged a few days ago.

It started at a party.

Well, actually it started in the literal manifestation of Hell as they trudged through the forest to Nancy’s house, but it properly started at a party.

It was the first party since the dust settled after defeating Vecna. Eddie was mostly recovered, and Max was out of the hospital and on the mend. It was finally time to celebrate everything, so Steve provided the venue. There was plenty of space, plus he had a pool, and the neighbours still hadn’t returned since the “earthquake.”

Everyone was there, even the rest of Eddie’s Hellfire Club, and it felt great. Having everyone they all held dear under one roof laughing, eating, drinking.

Steve was spending most of the party playing host, but finally around midnight he was snagged by a certain metalhead and dragged over to the pool chairs. Glancing around, Steve looked for Eddie’s friends, but he didn’t see any of them. They weren’t the only people outside, but everyone else was either sitting at the other side of the pool or around the side of the house having a smoke.

It was weird for Eddie to single Steve out these days. He had been avoiding Steve, or at least that was what it felt like. They had been close to inseparable after Vecna, especially with how much assistance Eddie needed while he was recovering.

Then Eddie pulled away, put some distance between them and Steve tried to be okay with that.

It didn’t help that Steve had realized he was in love with Eddie, but he was committed to be okay with whatever Eddie gave him.

So yes, with Eddie pulling him aside now and leaning close as he giggled and retold a story about something that happened earlier that evening, all while still holding his wrist… Steve was struggling.

It was obvious that Eddie was drunk, his words slurring together a bit and his smile wide and bright. Steve was captivated, smiling dazedly under the eternal sunshine beaming from the boy in front of him. How could anyone have ever been afraid of Eddie, he wondered not for the first time.

“What?” Eddie asked, sitting up to take a drink of his beer before putting the bottle on the table.

Steve shook his head, breaking away from his thoughts. “Just missed you, man,” he confessed, cringing a bit as he realized what he said.

Eddie made a face. “I’ve been around. You saw me like, last week,” he said with a bit of pout, but he did glance away a bit.

“Yeah, I did, you’re right,” Steve conceded, keeping his tone light. “Last week.”

Because, yeah, they’d seen each other last week for about ten minutes while Steve picked Dustin up from Eddie’s trailer. He didn’t want to ruin Eddie’s good mood by pointing out they used to see each other daily.

“You’ve still got your little frown line,” Eddie said, scrunching up his face as he poked the space between Steve’s eyebrows. “How’d’you smile and frown at the same time?”

“I’m not frowning!” Steve laughed, rolling his eyes.

“You are!” Eddie insisted with a giggle of his own before he sat up straight. “What’re you thinking about?”

Steve sighed and shrugged. “I just wish we hung out more. You always blow off the plans I try to make with you, and you don’t invite me to stuff anymore,” he admitted, and he barely stopped himself from shrugging again. “I figured you just didn’t want to be my friend, or you couldn’t after everything, and I was working on being okay with that but then you do this…”

Steve trailed off, gesturing between them as Eddie considered him thoughtfully.

“When did I blow off plans with you?” Eddie asked, and Steve groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I really don’t want to do this, Eds, it’s fine,” Steve insisted, and the other man just giggled at that.

“Stevie, Stevie, Stevie, y’only say shit is fine when it def’nitly isn’t,” Eddie said very seriously, even if the words began to slur together even worse.

“Then it’s okay! Not fine, okay!” Steve said, trying to end this particular line of conversation.

Eddie frowned at Steve. “You’re saying you miss me but now you’re not talking to me,” he said with a pout and Steve’s mouth actually dropped open, shocked that Eddie would have the audacity to actually turn this on him.

“Yeah, I don’t want to be a huge downer over nothing when you’re probably drunk enough that you won’t even remember half of this conversation tomorrow,” Steve said after taking a deep breath so he didn’t snap and say something bitchy and mean.

“‘M not that drunk. And it’s not nothing if you’re upset about it, Steve,” Eddie replied.

“You blew me off constantly when I’d invite you over to watch movies, but I got the hint loud and clear eventually,” Steve said in a rush, rolling his eyes as he added, “Especially after finding out you invited Jonathan and Argyle over to watch a movie the same night you blew me off two weeks ago.”

He hated how bitter he sounded tacking on that last part, but still… It kind of hurt to come in second to Jonathan Byers again, even if it wasn’t in the same way like it had been with Nancy.

“That was—I was hanging out with the boys, and Argyle was bringing some—” Eddie started to explain but stopped when Steve shook his head.

“You don’t have to explain yourself, Eds. This is exactly why I didn’t want to get into this. I don’t want you feeling bad because you don’t want to spend your time with me,” Steve insisted, scrubbing his hand over his face. Eddie was still holding onto his other wrist, and selfishly he didn’t try to pull away, soaking up the contact for a bit longer.

“But I do wanna spend time with you,” Eddie said and Steve couldn’t help his incredulous snort.

“Funny way of showing it, Eds,” he tried to tease, but it came out sounding bitter and almost mean.

“I wanna kiss you,” Eddie declared, pointblank and without preamble, and Steve felt his heart all the way up in his throat as he blinked at him for several long moments.

“What?” Steve finally asked, feeling a helpless, hopeful smile pulling at his lips.

Eddie glanced at Steve’s lips before he sat up straight and rolled his shoulders back. With a determined set to his brow and a giddy smile, Eddie leaned forward and said, “I am going to kiss you, Harrington.”

Steve’s jaw clenched, both with anticipation and the usage of his surname after all this time. “Call me Steve,” he said almost absentmindedly, his voice a bit strangled as he leaned closer to Eddie.

A fully dimpled smile split Eddie’s face. “Stevie,” he sing-songed as he slowly leaned closer.

There was that moment where Steve knew he had to stop this because Eddie was a lot more drunk than he was letting on, and Steve was too sober to ignore that.

But just as Eddie moved to finish closing the distance, his eyes rolled back and he passed out, folding right over at the hips and landing with his face in Steve’s lap.

Puckering his lips at the empty space in front of him, Steve sighed a laugh and looked down at Eddie with a fond smile.

He’d definitely be picking this up with him in the morning.

“Oh, gross, what are you two doing out here? There’re still kids running around.”

Steve jumped and looked over at Eddie’s friends standing there with wide eyes. “Nothing! We’re—he just passed out, we’re not doing anything,” he said quickly, lifting his hands. It didn’t help that the implication had something below the belt twitching with interest. “Seriously, we were just talking and then he passed out.”

The three boys considered him carefully before the one in the middle, Gareth, smirked.

“Is he finally done being an idiot?” he asked, and when Steve started to try to cover up what they had sort of been talking about, Gareth shook his head. “Listen, Steve, let’s cut the crap. We saw how your conversation was about to go, we know you like him, we know he likes you, whatever, it’s cool. So, tell us, is he done being an idiot?”

Steve sucked in a slow breath before smirking. “I mean, will he ever actually stop being a bit of an idiot?” he asked with a one-shouldered shrug and the boys burst into laughter.

❖

Steve managed to rouse Eddie enough to get him to at least stand up but getting him to walk had been a nightmare. Then Eddie whined to be carried and when Steve said he was too heavy to carry, Eddie said Steve had carried him before which was fair. Then Steve pointed out that Eddie had also been missing more than half his blood at the time so…

Eddie was not swayed so Steve just rolled his eyes and bent a bit so Eddie could climb onto his back. It was actually a lot easier to carry Eddie when he was at least somewhat helping, but Steve still bitched the entire way up to his room.

Depositing Eddie onto the bed, he started taking his shoes off and then defaulted into helping Eddie with the fly of his jeans, like he did for months while Eddie worked on getting his fine motor skills back. When Steve glanced up at Eddie, he couldn’t help the snort that burst out of him.

Eddie was looking at Steve crouching between his legs without lifting his head, still grinning giddily. The angle was unbelievably unflattering, yet so endearing that Steve just grinned back.

“Tryin’a get int’my pants, Stevie?” Eddie asked, waggling his brow suggestively and Steve laughed.

“Eds, I’ve been trying for months,” he admitted with an eye-roll. Steve just continued to work Eddie’s tight jeans down his thighs and gestured. “But, looks like I’m succeeding, so no. I’m not trying right now.”

Eddie giggled madly, barely helping as Steve sat him up to take his leather jacket off. Then Eddie began to lift his shirt over his head and Steve grabbed his hands.

“Whoa, hold your horses, we’re not actually doing any of that while you’re drunk,” Steve said firmly, and Eddie pouted again.

“’M barely even tipsy,” Eddie insisted, and Steve snorted.

“You literally passed out in my lap and needed me to carry you up here,” Steve said flatly, and Eddie blew a disturbingly wet raspberry at him.

“Whatever, Stevie,” Eddie grumbled, but then went back to trying to take his shirt off. When Steve went to stop him again, Eddie dodged his hands which had him tipping over dizzily with a giggle. “Dude’m not tryin’a fuck. Can’t sleep wearin’a shirt. Hurts.”

Steve lifted a skeptical eyebrow but decided to go with it and helped Eddie remove his shirt. Once he was shirtless, Eddie flopped back onto the bed while stretching luxuriously, and Steve quickly looked away. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to look, it would just be really inappropriate to ogle him.

“C’mon, Stevie, you can look,” Eddie cooed, and Steve rolled his eyes with a chuckle.

“No, I can’t, because I have to go back to that party and if I look at you, I won’t want to,” Steve said, being honest about his attraction to Eddie coming so easily to him now that he knew it was reciprocated. He’d suspected before, but when Eddie pulled away, he’d convinced himself that he had imagined Eddie’s interest.

“You don’t have to go back down there. People’ll go home on their own,” Eddie insisted, and Steve shook his head.

“Eds—”

“I don’t wanna be alone,” Eddie said and something in his voice caught Steve’s attention.

Eddie wasn’t looking at him anymore, and he wasn’t stretched out. Eddie was curled up on his side, chewing one of his thumbnails and blushing. He looked unsure, self-conscious even and Steve didn’t like that at all.

“Hey, Eds, it’s okay I’ll stay up here with you,” Steve said softly, sitting down on the edge of the bed and resting his hand on Eddie’s arm comfortingly. “You think you can handle brushing your teeth before bed?”

Eddie turned a bright smile on Steve and nodded happily.

Steve was happy he had kept the extra toothbrush for Eddie in the bathroom. When he was recovering and the nightmares were nightly occurrences, Eddie had spent the night at Steve’s place a lot, so Steve set him up with his own set of toiletries in his bathroom. That way, Eddie didn’t have to remember to cart his own stuff back and forth, Steve had reasoned.

It had been weeks since the last time Eddie stayed the night, but it was all still there just waiting for Eddie to return.

When they first entered the bathroom, Eddie’s eyes immediately landed on his toothbrush still set in the cup next to the sink with Steve’s, and then the shampoo and conditioner that was his preference still on the edge of the tub. Pulling a face, Eddie looked at Steve.

“I’m fucking stupid, aren’t I?” he asked, and Steve’s eyes widened.

“No, Eds, not at all?” Steve said firmly, squeezing Eddie’s hand.

At that, Eddie just shook his head with a light smile and got to work brushing his teeth, Steve following suit.

By the time they were back in Steve’s room, Eddie seemed a bit more sober. His words were a lot less slurred, and his eyes seemed more lucid. Steve tucked him into the bed and then started to get undressed himself, opting to go to bed in just his boxers as well.

When he turned around, Steve abruptly stopped when he came face to face with Eddie. He’d crawled to the end of the bed while Steve had gotten undressed, and he immediately reached out to grab Steve’s hand.

“I’m sorry, Stevie,” he said sheepishly, holding a hand up to stop Steve’s arguments. “I shouldn’t’ve avoided you.”

Steve wanted to blow the apology off, but he could tell this was important for Eddie, so he just said, “Apology accepted.”

Eddie smiled at that, his dimples at full force, and he reached up to cup Steve’s face with both hands. “I’m not super drunk anymore,” he added cheekily, and Steve snorted.

“We’re not having sex tonight—”

“Not asking for that right now,” Eddie chuckled, shaking his head. “I’m going to kiss you, Stevie.”

The conviction in Eddie’s voice, the firmness of his cool hands on Steve’s face, was enough to root Steve where he stood. Swallowing thickly, Steve nodded quickly and stepped closer to the bed.

“You sure don’t want to wait until tomorrow when you’re for sure sober?” he asked a bit nervously and Eddie laughed.

“I’m sure. My teeth are brushed, my breath is fresh. Right now is fucking perfect for my first kiss with Steve Harrington,” Eddie groaned, leaning closer and tilting his mouth upward.

“You imagined how this would play out a lot?” Steve asked teasingly, not quite angling his mouth for Eddie to kiss just yet.

“Shut the fuck up and kiss me, asshole,” Eddie growled through a laugh, and then their lips finally met.

It was perfect, starting sweet and chaste, just the gentle press and slide of lips. Then Eddie made a soft sound in the back of his throat that had Steve groaning, burying a hand in Eddie’s hair to pull him in deeper while his other arm wrapped around his waist. Eddie clung to him, giggling against Steve’s lips as he opened his mouth for a searching tongue.

Steve knew they were getting in too deep, they were moving too quickly and had to slow it back down before they did something they both might regret in the morning.

Thank God for Robin Buckley.

“Hey, Dingus, why’re you—oh my God?”

The bedroom door had slammed open and Steve broke away from the kiss to see Robin whipping around so she was facing the hallway instead. Eddie was giggling and would have fallen back on the bed if Steve wasn’t holding him up.

“What’s up, Robs?” Steve asked and Robin started laughing nervously.

“I was just looking for you, and Gareth said you went upstairs and now that I think about the look on his face I’m realizing he was pranking me. I’m gonna kill him, I swear I wouldn’t’ve come in here if I knew, I mean it,” Robin babbled before turning around slowly. She took in the fact that they were wearing their boxers and let out a sigh of relief. “You’re staying up here for the rest of the night?”

“Yeah, Eddie’s kinda wasted—” Steve started and Eddie interrupted with a fit of giggles.

“I am not!” Eddie managed to say and he looked at Robin. “I’m not wasted. I’m tipsy, and Stevie is gonna cuddle with me now. Only cuddles, though, ‘cos he’s all noble and shit. Barely got him to kiss me.”

Steve rolled his eyes affectionately before returning his attention to Robin. “You need anything, Robs?”

“Nope! Not a thing! I’ll make sure everything’s locked up for you, okay?” Robin replied, grinning as she backed out of the room, slowly closing the door behind herself. “Goodnight boys!”

As the door clicked shut, they looked back at each other, matching grins on their faces.

“One more kiss?” Eddie asked softly, and Steve couldn’t deny him anything.

“Yeah, one more,” Steve sighed and their lips met once again.

[ AO3 LINK ]

Taglist! @patchworkgargoyle, @scarcrossdlvrs, @steve-harringtits, @afewproblems, @matchingbatbites, @mylilplanet, @steddie-there, @xenon-demon, @indigohightide, @inairbinad, @steddieas-shegoes I hope you enjoy! Please consider reblogging!!

#steddie #steve x eddie #steddieweek2023 #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie fic #gerry writes

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imsoquarky · 9 months

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youtube

They're both gay & sad and it's beautiful.

I am absolutely OBSESSED with all of @pittdpeaches's work. Most of my favorite fics come from him, including "A Garden Across Our Collarbone" & "From Three Thirty To Four". This animatic takes inspiration from chapters 3 & 12 of "A Garden Across Our Collarbone", but the entire song fits it so very well. I encourage you both to read his fics (especially if you're a spicynoodles shipper like myself) and listen to the song in full.

I would've loved to do a longer animatic that covers the whole song, but sadly I do not have that kind of energy or commitment rip.

I swear this fic has me on my damn KNEES. Slow burn is SO GOOD, but I keep thinking about how just one different move, one slip of the tongue, one GLANCE and they'd know. They'd know they're soulmates.

!!Fanfic link & more below the cut!!

♠️ - ♣️ - ♥️ - ♦️

Admittedly, I don't have the energy to post this on Instagram rn, so uh.. Congrats Tumblr, a special treat for ya.

#lego monkie kid #lmk #monkie kid #lmk red son #lmk mk #spicynoodles #lmk spicynoodles #spicynoodleshipping #qi xiaotian #lmk qi xiaotian #fanfic rec #ao3 fanfic #Youtube #my artwork #art by quarky

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witch-and-writer · 3 months

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Ek passe tu babbu, ek passe hai jag saara

-You on one side, my beloved, the entire world on another-

[About Ch-3 of Something is Wrong with A-Zhan!]

Remember the morally grey Wei Wuxian tag? Yeah, that line at the top is what I meant by that. I don’t think Wei Wuxian would ever be morally grey, he’s the most morally upright character I have ever come across, but just for this fic, as long as it’s Lan Wangji vs the world, Wei Wuxian would always choose Lan Wangji, even if it conflicts with his moral and principles. Putting it simply, Wei Wuxian would condemn murder and harming the innocents, but if it’s Lan Wangji committing these crimes, he wouldn’t be able to bring himself to condemn him, instead, he’ll come up with possible justifications for Lan Wangji and defend him.

I hope I was able to capture an inkling, an essence of this in the chapter.

Also, is anyone surprised that no Lan elders except Lan Qiren are furious at Lan Wangji's wantonness? I just think that after the whole Qingheng-jun fiasco, they will think Lan Wangji much more tame, especially since Wei Wuxian, unlike the Madam Lan in my head, doesn't seem too bothered by their second heir's behavior. Maybe they are even turning a blind eye to this because of how much they love Wei Wuxian and his genius.

My thought process behind their thought process is that- since Wei Wuxian is a once in a lifetime genius and he is here (in cloud recesses) because of Lan Wangji and he is staying because of his obvious love for their second heir, and they know this. They can see this. So, just for the sake of keeping Wei Wuxian in their sect as their prized disciple who is famous all around for his no-less-than-miraculous inventions, they all collectively decide to overlook Lan Wangji's shameless behaviour that is definitely not befitting of someone holding the title of the Second Jade of GusuLan.

Of course, no one added Lan Qiren to the group chat and that's why he's still bitter about his nephew's changed behaviour.

Mini Theater:-

*lwj acting shameless, holding wwx by the waist and kissing him publicly* Lan Elders: I can't see, I'm blind~ blind~ Lan Qiren, who was not added to the chat and thus was not informed that they have to ignore all this: *qi-deviates* Lan Xichen, who now has to deal with his dramatic uncle: Wangji, if you could just get a room, I would be grateful. You know uncle can't handle this much pda. Lan Wangji: *too busy sucking wwx's soul out through his mouth to hear, further sending his dramatic but weak-hearted single uncle into a qi-deviation* Lan Xichen: ... I love you, didi, but I feel like I should not. When did you become such a menace?!

I don't even know why I'm babbling, but I am and I refuse to suffer through the on-goings of my mind alone, so here we are~

Sofia out~

#mdzs #ao3 #ao3 writer #mini-theater #dark lan wangji #ao3fic

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candywife333 · 5 months

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My Little Saesang (Part 1)

chubby reader x idol jungkook

Summary: Y/N had been a super fan for a while. Some would say bordering on saesang or creep level. She didn't think she was one, till she experienced an incident that made her stop being a fan. She had never thought that Jungkook or any of BTS ever noticed her, as she was part of the masses of obsessive fans. But they had. Especially, one doe eyed idol in particular. He never thought he would miss his fan, or shall we say saesang. Yet, he couldn't help but notice her absence. And he didn't know when her presence started to matter to him so much.

Disclaimer: The Jungkook represented in this fic does not reflect the true actions or thoughts of the real life Jungkook. Please treat this fic as exactly what it is, fiction

Triggers: Critique of fandom culture and kpop as a whole, identity crisis, eventual smut

Note: Not proofread. Slated to be approximately 4 parts or less.

"Y/N, what the hell are you still doing in that cafe? Didn't we come over here to spy on Jungkook at his house before he heads off to M-CountDown for his performance? I don't remember scheduling a pit-stop for you to have a second lunch", Kim-Hee glared down at me through her thick framed black glasses that honestly sort of made her look like a sexy principal. Anger at being diverted from her goal of catching the tan pop-star in his sweaty excellence seemed to cloud her vision.

I retorted back with a snort, "You know me very well at this point, after being my fellow saesang comrade in arms for close to 2 years girl. I am digesting my food baby as we speak and will soon be ready for delivery in that nasty garbage ass smelling toilet. I have a date with the shits, so to speak. Don't you see that my jeans are popped open and the zip down ready to go. I don't got the energy to chase this man today. Our stunt at New York was bad enough, don't you think"? Shaking my head at her idiocy even after knowing me for so long, I exclaimed, "Feel free to chase him in time for his ending fairy if you feel like it though. I am just not feeling it today".

Kim Hee, my bestie, stared at me with squinted eyes, black tiny eyes glittering in the harsh sun, "Girl, you were the one who had this all scheduled out a month back? How could you not bloody commit at the crucial time!!!! Our fucking junior fans are counting on your stupid ass". I waved my right at her in dismissal, ramen sauce covering my lips like a new Fenty lipstick that I just could not afford right now with my measly ass job as janitor at KBS.

I snarled back in irritation, "Tell those kids to go and study in college, that's more important than following his dumb ass anyways. He won't remember them for their troubles. At max, he will remember a few fans from their initial debut days , get married to a rich ass plasticky actress, have beautiful spoiled kids, and die a rich philanthropist. Saesangs don't get paid if you catch my point. Honestly, if it paid as a job, I would consider it. But I think I may have to retire". I patted my distended stomach in contentment, satisfied with the first proper meal I had in 3 days, stalking JK with my team all over New York and then catching a flight to Korea for his album showcase.

My bestie stared at me now in shock, with wide eyes, hands waving in the air, clearly confused at my statements, "Didn't you just say a week ago that this was all worth it? That supporting our faves, especially BTS, and the lord and savior himself , Jungkook, was a noble passion to pursue? Why have you suddenly done a 180 on us and him like this"? I flinched visibly at her reminder of what I used to be and who I used to be. The person she described felt foreign to me now. Ever since I opened my eyes and saw what fans, especially super fans like us, who didn't have a life outside of BTS suffered, I was a reformed woman. A reformed woman who had decided as of now to save all my money for some botox and a dental appointment, some clothes for mom and dad, and a hot meal for my younger sister. I was going to go from being a crysallis to a butterfly. In essence, I was going to woman the fuck up. That's what the fuck I was about to do with my life.

With this aim in mind, I slammed my fist against the plastic table, startling Kim Hee. "Bestie, you never got close enough to JK to see how much he hated it, okay? He hated us in those moments that we invaded his privacy. Remember that one time I snuck up on the set of them filming "Black Swan" to give him a godiva chocolate my mom had brought back from Sweden?" Kim Hee nodded in assent, clearly knowing how much of big deal it was for me to part with food of any kind, for any reason, for anyone (Even my own family). I loved luxury chocolate and food in general. Nobody could rip it out of my hands , as evidenced by Kim Hee and all our friends in middle school when I slapped a guy stupid and hit him in the nuts for taking a ferrero rocher out of my hands---the motherfucker.

I continued ,"Well I gave it to his hands while he was waiting outside at the entrance of the set. Even normies like me are allowed on that area, it was not a restricted filming area. I just left the chocolate next to where he was sitting, with a red bow (his name engraved on it) wrapped around it. He legit stared at me in confusion, like he had not seen me for the past 9 years, sneered at me, disdain in his beady black eyes and threw the chocolate in the dustbin like it was as figment of his imagination". Kim Hee stared at me in dismay, clearly knowing that what I considered the foremost cardinal sin in life was throwing away food, particularly expensive food.

I wrung my hands in the air, holding in my tears, "Bestie, it was white chocolate, do you understand? It was limited christmas edition. I could never afford that chocolate in my dreams , if not for one of mom's colleagues gifting it to her. Chili ,(my sister) was yapping about it for days, salivating, thinking she could bite into it. And I sacrificed it to an undeserving multi millionaire". I sat back down on the bench, numbly, tears streaming down my face. I was so done with him and the entire group at this point. I understand that what we do, Saesangs, stalkers, whatever they like to call us, is not correct. We should not be so invasive. But I always told the kids who followed in my footsteps that we could support them, but just not to the point that we impinged on their personal lives. I had done some fucked up things as a newbie army, but two years into their debut, I understood that limits were required.

The most I had ever done since then, was to gift the members things as a fan. Whatever I could afford. Whether that was their favorite convenience store snack left by us on the set of one of their music video shoots. Or a pack of gum or their favorite desserts when we attended fan meets. I and the girls who followed me on these adventures, as I used to call them, never snuck into HYBE. We were of the more benign variety, not on par with the crazies who took the same flight as them (not that I could afford that), or collected saliva, sweat, and urine samples. For goodness sakes, we didn't even run after their vehicles, we just waved politely and jumped up and down like rabid dogs that had treats waved in their faces.

The moment I was compelled to stop following my fave, or I guess my former bias as of now, was simply when he casually looked at the chocolate I had left next to him as though it were poison, and tossed it in the trash without looking back. That was when I knew, I was worthless in his eyes, along with the rest of the fans who tried so hard.

We shelled out money saved up from little jobs and pocket money accumulated for months together, to buy expensive albums, merchandise, and anything else they put out. We forgo the little luxuries like nicer shoes and warmer coats in winter to buy tickets for outdoor showcases and shiver in the cold wind to just catch a glimpse of one of their half smiles. We stream their music that speaks of love that we do not comprehend, love whose face is so unfamiliar in our youth that we would pass it by as though it were a stranger. When we don't have anyone in our lives to hug us and hold us and kiss us, to wipe our tears and pat us on the back when we are down and to tell us that everything will be alright, we stare at them in the tabloids extrapolating who they could be in love with, fantasizing about a love that could never be ours. We live our lives, living for them, living around them as though we are satellites caught int he orbit of a bigger planet, and now, it does not make sense to me anymore.

It may just be a chocolate, stupid worthless and insignificant to him. It may be cheap, a show of cheap love that he wishes to spit on. But it wasn't cheap to me. My love wasn't cheap. Food isn't cheap, especially food bestowed with love. And I was done giving my love away for free, as though it meant nothing. As though it were a cheap cigarette to be smoked and discarded, ground under the foot of someone who had finished using it for a fleeting high. Cheap and dispensable and convenient, that's what we were, what I had become.

I cringed internally as my gaze redirected towards Kim Hee. I croaked out in determination while chewing on the remnants of soggy ramyun, "We are done babe. I am through with this horrible, parasitic relationship. I am going to figure out how to make myself rich or get rich through marriage. I am done being stupid, falling over myself for a guy or a group of guys who don't see or appreciate me. They get rich on my desperation, and I don't wish to give them that power anymore".

#jungkook x reader #bts x reader #chubby reader #monologue #dramatic #angst #comedy #jungkook x curvy reader #jungkook x plus size reader #jungkook x chubby reader #bts x curvy reader #bts x plus size reader #bts x chubby reader

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astarionmademewriteit · 6 months

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Death Would be Too Easy

Astarion (Unascended) x (unnamed Durge) female reader/tav

Rating: Explicit

MDNI. 18+ ONLY. Blank bios will be blocked.

Wordcount: 5k

Tags: Smut; Act 3 Durge spoilers; Blood, gore and violence; Suicide attempt (tav); Drowning; Fingering; Piv sex; Slight Sub/Dom dynamic; Tiny fluff ending.

Summary: Dark urge tav has had enough of killing and the subsequent loneliness in her life and decides to try and end it. Astarion comes to her rescue, commiserates with her suffering and tries to make her (and himself) feel better.

Author note: This is my first fic so be kind 🥲

I glance around the forest, shrouded in darkness–not a sound save the lively insects and the occasional hoot of an owl. I drag the body of my victim to the edge of an unsuspecting ditch and let them fall to the ground. I huff out of exhaustion, considering I haven’t slept in what felt like ages. I wipe the sweat from my brow and place a foot on the back of my victim, ready to dispose of them for good.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

I glance down at the blood on my hands–recognizing the ways in which my thrill for killing has slowly lost its edge. I send a quick prayer to father, but it is empty–hollow and missing its usual vigor. I sigh deeply, transfixed on washing away the evidence from my brutal killing. The blood seeps into every pore of my skin, almost as if my body invites its welcome essence.

I glance down at my victim, their eyes gouged out of their skull, blood leaking from every stab wound inflicted to their chest and abdomen. “I’m sorry,” I whisper. A wave of guilt washes over me. It has been decades since I felt any remorse for my actions. However, having been displaced from my home and severed from all my familial and cult ties, a little bit of humanity seeps into my very soul. I kick their body down into the ditch, the lifeless husk crashing into roots and stone until it comes to rest on the banks of a ravine.

I turn back to the forest, peering into the dark. I feel something’s eyes on me, traipsing through the dark with a curious gaze. I brush it off–not the slightest concern tugs at my mind. I am the most dangerous thing lurking in these woods. I start back towards camp, looking forward to a quick dip in the lake.

I pass by my companions, sleeping soundlessly around the fire–the others tucked away in their tents awaiting dawn’s kiss. I note Astarion is not in his bedroll, no doubt suckling from some unappetizing beast. It’s almost comforting to know that I am not the only nighttime killer, even if no one else is aware that I too lurk in the shadows, killing innocent lives in the name of a God who has not seen it necessary to save me from this predicament I have found myself in. I cannot help but wonder why I continue to ritually murder fellow vagabonds, especially when I receive no reward–not even the pleasure that used to accompany slaughter.

I shake my thoughts away and walk to the shore, watching as the moonlight bounces off the gentle waves that lap against my feet. I grab the hem of my shirt and pull it overhead, discarding it further up the beach. I move to my pants, unlacing them slowly, savoring the way the cool night air kisses my bloodstained skin. Once my clothes have been discarded, I test the water, it was cool but not unbearable. I let my hair down and wade into the refreshing water.

The blood slides from my skin and tendrils of red swirl along the surface of the water as I venture deeper into the pond. I dive the rest of the way in, ready to rid myself of the violence I committed earlier. I sink to the bottom, and for a moment, I will myself to stay. Perhaps I should die here. End my suffering. Bhaal knows that if I left this world, then it would be saved from any more of the suffering I would be forced to unleash.

My vision goes blurry. If I weren’t under water, tears would surely slip from my eyes. I squeeze my eyes shut. They would be false tears. A cold-blooded murderer does not weep for its victims. That’s all I am after all–heartless, unfeeling, an empty shell for my father to puppet.

Darkness begins to take over my vision, my lungs yearn for breath and my body is in agony. I would be better off dead. I will never love. I will never know a gentle touch. I am doomed to a future filled with blood and gore. At least this way I can save what little soul I have left.

My head grows foggy and I can feel my heart slowing. My body is ready to gasp for air that will not come. Instead my lungs will fill with water and I will sink away, forgotten by the world. I have made my peace with that.

Before I can drift away, a loud splash interrupts my thoughts. I dare not open my eyes or break my concentration. My body will want to reach the surface, and I am unwilling to allow my antagonisms to ruin this world. A pair of strong arms wrap around me roughly and pull me to the surface. I try to fight against my so-called rescuer–beating at their chest and fighting against their grip… to no avail. My head breaches the surface and my body instinctively pulls air into my lungs. I gasp loudly, welcoming the air as it enters my agonizingly painful lungs.

I cough uncontrollably, my head swimming with pressure. Once I catch my breath I open my eyes, only to be met with those dangerous vermillion eyes that I have come to know over the last few weeks.

Astarion looks at me annoyingly, clearly not impressed by my suicide attempt. I glare at him while my breathing calms. I slam my fists into his chest as my anger resurfaces.

“Why?! Why did you save me,” my voice breaks, betraying my hopelessness, “I-I wanted to die you prick.” A tear falls from my eye and my body shakes with unfiltered rage and torment as I continue to scream obscenities in his direction and beat my fists on his bare chest.

Astarion does not let go of his grip around my waist, his arms snake around my waist and interlock into an inescapable prison. His face is set in stone and none of the hurtful things I hurl in his direction seem to phase him. Instead he sits there quietly until I grow tired of badgering him.

My exhausted body cannot take anymore and I burst into tears, the repressed emotions spilling out of me like a dam breaking. I cry, my screams of agony and sorrow flow unfiltered.

Astarions arms tighten around me, “Just let it out,” he whispers gently. His firm grip on me refuses to allow me to fall below the water’s surface once again, so I do as he says. I let my sorrow unfold in the ugliest of ways, letting it crash down in devastating pain.

I nuzzle my head into his chest and unleash all of my sorrow. I cry for the love I will never feel. I cry for the pain I have inflicted on countless people. I cry for the loneliness that has plagued my blackened heart for so long–the feeling of isolation and duty weigh so heavily on my soul that I can feel its crushing burden. I allow myself to unburden my sorrows, not even caring how utterly foolish I must look to the vampire.

Astrion slips an arm under my legs and starts towards the shore. I wrap my arms around his neck, accepting that he will not allow me to drown tonight. We emerge from the water and he sets me on a log and quietly walks to his tent to retrieve a blanket to cover my naked body.

Once his blanket is draped over my shoulder he begins building a fire on the shore and allowing me time to collect myself. His scent completely engulfs me, his embroidered blanket smells strong of his scent–bergamot, brandy, and a hint of musk. I drink it in, letting it soothe the heaviness of my emotions. I watch as Astarion breathes life into the fire–the flames licking up the sides of the logs and illuminating his ruby-red eyes.

His gaze meets mine before he moves to sit next to me on the log. I look at him, half-expecting him to lecture me on my stupidity. Instead, the look he gives me is one of understanding.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asks after a moment. His eyes search mine. I break our gaze and turn to the fire, contemplating on how much I should tell him. If I tell him about my need for slaughter, my uncontrollable state of bloodlust, will he still understand? Or will he wish that he had never pulled me from the water?

“I… There’s something wrong with me,” I stammer, unable to meet his gaze out of shame. I can barely bring the words to my lips, “I think it would be easier to show you,” I mumble. I turn to look at him. His eyes search mine once again, a look of worry paints his face. It’s almost as if he doesn’t want to intrude on my privacy.

“It’s okay,” I whisper, wrapping the blanket tighter around my shoulders, “I want you to see,” I make up my mind. I open my mind up, allowing the tadpole to reach out to him, waiting for him to latch on to my memories… to my past and my fears.

He nods his head and pushes his mind into my thoughts. I allow him to peer into my past, the thousands of ritual slaughters I have committed in my father’s name. I show him my childhood–bloodspawn teaching me the location of the main arteries, the most precise cuts to inflict, and the reverent slaughter I was to commit in Bhaal’s name. I show him the countless faces of my victims after death, their lifeless gaze, their blood draining into pools in Bhaal’s temple below the city. I show him the aching loneliness I feel, the isolation I subject myself to. The emotional ties I have cut with others, to save myself the sorrow for when I inevitably end their lives. I allow him to feel what I feel, the hate, the sorrow, the anger, the aching loneliness and the hopelessness of my future. I show him that I am a slave to murder, that I am not worthy of his or the other’s recognition. I wish only for death, because it is far better than the alternative.

Astarion unlatches from my memories and I inevitably wait for the verbal lashing. I wait for his rejection. I wait for his blade to kiss my throat once again, all his restraint gone as it slices through my neck as he leaves me to die. I can barely look at him, I feel so ashamed. I am a false hero. Nothing I have tried to correct will ever make up for the lives I have ended.

While I continue to wallow in my self-loathing, Astarion places a gentle hand on my shoulder and forces me to turn towards him. My vision is blurry as tears threaten to spill from my eyes once again. I am not sure I am ready for this.

“You could have told me, you know,” he whispers gently. I look into his eyes and see none of the hatred or anger I expected, “We….We have walked very similar paths, you and I.” He searches for his words carefully, “I do not judge you, if that is what you are fearful of. Actually, I am somewhat relieved to know the truth, especially after coming upon you in the woods earlier,” he confesses, a small nervous laugh escapes his lips. “Regardless, if you are unhappy with your situation… I am sure we can rectify that once we enter the city. Gods know we all have our demons to overcome.” He looks off into the distance, clearly reminiscing over his own troubled past.

I look at him, taken aback by his kindness and understanding. "W-wait. Y-you aren't going to kill me?" His profile is sharp, but his features soften as a smile plays on his lips.

He throws his head back and laughs loudly, "Ha! Kill you? Why ever would you think that, my dear?"

I blush at his little nickname. We have certainly spoken to one another, flirted even. But that was the extent of our interactions. Friendly, if not a little stand-offish, and full of playful banter. Of course, I could never get too close to him, otherwise images danced in my mind of his pretty corpse. I shake the silly thoughts from my mind. I'm sure it was harmless.

"W-well… I'm a monster," I croak.

Astarion chuckles darkly, "A monster? Far from it. Dangerous? Potentially. Scandalous? Absolutely. But a monster?" He strokes his chin in thought, "We are similar, you and I. Never hoping to have full control over our bodies. Committing unspeakable acts of violence in someone else's name. It does not mean we are past the point of redemption."

I watch him contemplate silently, tracing the sharp features of his profile with my eyes. Taking in his beauty and the unguarded expression gracing his face. I’ve never fully had the opportunity to admire him in this way. Furthermore, his usual hardened facade has slipped from his demeanor and I feel like I am seeing his true self. I get the feeling most people do not see this side of him.

He blinks away whatever thoughts were swimming around in his mind and he turns to me, the glow from the fire outlining his face in a beautiful aura–he looks diabolically angelic in this moment.

I blush at my own thoughts. He has no idea how beautiful he is, but his perfection catches in my throat, rendering me speechless. I turn away, unsure of what to say.

“Thank you,” I finally breathe, “Most people look at me with disdain in their eyes. I think… I think I’ve come to expect it.”

He laughs breathily and scoots closer to me–his body mere inches from mine and making me flustered. He throws an arm around my shoulder and pulls me the rest of the way in. He leans in and whispers in my ear, “When I look at you… I do see the bloodlust,” I stiffen, dread filling my body once again–worried that I was doomed to be seen as a monster first and foremost by the ones I care about, “But,” he continues, “more than anything, I see someone who wants to do good… someone who wants to be redeemed. I see your heart, and it is a beautiful thing. I see the true you.” He grabs my chin lightly and forces me to look into his eyes. My breath hitches in my throat. “I see someone who wants–no, needs–to be known. He leans in and places a gentle kiss on the corner of my mouth before pulling away. “You deserve to feel loved. You deserve to be seen for who you truly are. I want to give you that. If… you’ll allow me.”

I look up at him with rounded eyes, completely taken off guard, “I-I didn’t think you liked me… like that.” I fidget with my fingers, suddenly feeling vulnerable and slightly embarrassed. I always had a crush on Astarion, but I pushed those feelings aside to protect him. He couldn’t be on the receiving end of my ritual dagger. I wouldn’t allow it.

“Y-you saw my memories. I’m destined to kill anyone I get close to. How… how could you be okay with that?” I shake my head and bury my face in my hands. “I’m cursed to be alone forever.”

He chuckles softly and his eyes soften, “I have the utmost confidence that it will never get to that point,” He cocks an eyebrow at me playfully, “But if it were to come to that, I’m sure some restraints could go a long way.”

The way he is looking at me now, his vermillion eyes bore into me reflecting a hint of danger–a hint of unrestrained lust. How could I say no to this beautiful man? “I crave more than anything to be touched…” I admit, finding it difficult to meet his gaze.

“Mmm,” his voice is gravelly and heavy with ecstasy, “Where, my love?”

I exhale in amazement, I clearly did not expect my night to end in such a manner. I blush uncontrollably, “Everywhere.”

A devilish grin forms across his face flashing his fangs, sharp as a knife, “Your wish is my command,” he whispers before pulling me on top of him. The blanket slips from my shoulders, and falls unused to the ground. I wrap my legs around his waist and snake my arms around his neck, playfully running my fingers through his perfect ivory curls.

He looks at me adoringly before leaning in and pressing his perfect lips to mine. I haven’t been kissed in what feels like years and I hungrily kiss back pressing my entire body into him. He greedily accepts my desperate tongue, and we explore each other’s mouth with all the passion that can be mustered. His fangs rake against my bottom lip and I moan into his mouth. I press my lips to him harder before he is pulling away and flashing me his gorgeous fangs. Astarion drags a thumb lightly across my bottom lip, eliciting a feral moan to escape my mouth.

His other hand traces down my spine, sending heat directly to my core. His tender traces along my body brings my senses to life–no, he sets them on fire–for I have never felt this good from just a few sensual touches. His hand comes to rest on my ass which he squeezes playfully. I yelp in response which only motivates him to continue.

Astarion begins to guide my hips, rocking them back and forth against his lap. I can feel his growing arousal beneath his pants which sends me into a lustful frenzy. I begin to rock my hips to the pace he has set for me, and I throw my head back when I feel my core grinding against his still growing arousal.

He leans in close and drags his nose up my throat, drinking in the scent of my blood, “That’s it, darling,” he whispers gruffly. I suddenly crave for him to bite me, to drink from me. I want to feel the pain, my essence slipping away as I continue to stimulate myself.

I can barely speak from the pleasure I am feeling, but I manage to whimper, “Take from me, Astarion.” I lean my head back further, offering him my throat for his pleasure. He chuckles darkly, his hot breath pounding against my skin, further lighting my senses on fire. I rock my hips harder, “Please.”

He doesn’t hesitate a moment longer. He sinks his fangs into my soft flesh, the pain like ice in my veins before my warm blood falls from the newly made twin puncture wounds. He sucks greedily, savoring the taste of my blood. I moan against him, taking pleasure in the way my body reacts against him. His hand slides from my throat down my sternum and comes to rest just above my throbbing sex.

I whimper uncontrollably, craving for him to go lower, “P-please,” I beg.

Astarion smiles against my throat and pulls away temporarily, “Your begging sounds so sweet,” he coos. He only makes me want to beg harder.

“I need you,” I cry.

A growl escapes his throat and he latches himself back to my throat and pulls more blood into his mouth, coating his tongue and throat. He has gone completely feral. He drags his fingers to my cunt and begins slowly circling my swollen clit.

I gasp loudly, unconcerned with waking up the others in camp. I haven’t been truly touched in so long that I forgot just how wonderful it feels. His fingers expertly circle my clit, igniting something deep in my core. Pleasure begins to build and I can feel myself ready to fall over the edge. I grind against his fingers, feeling needy begging to be filled.

He laughs against my neck and slides his fingers into my aching cunt. I cry out in pleasure, coming completely undone by his long slender fingers. I can barely handle how much he is already stretching me out and I buzz with excitement and anticipation when I think about what else he has in store for me.

His fingers penetrate me deeply, and his lips on my neck have me spiraling. He slides his fingers in and out of me quickly, using his thumb to stimulate my clit. He pulls away from my throat and looks at up at me through his pale lashes, “Does that feel good, darling?”

I nod my head rapidly, unable to form words as his fingers work their magic. My vision begins to blur and I pant uncontrollably. I can feel myself nearing the edge of no return and it is a delicious feeling.

Astarion smiles dangerously, licking the blood from his fangs, “Come for me, pet,” he pleads darkly.

His voice sends me over the edge, I come undone around him, my cunt tightening around his fingers and my hips bucking of their own volition. My orgasm rocks through me, my body spasms with pleasure and my toes curl to an ungodly degree. I let his name slip from my lips as I cry out in pleasure.

“There you go, darling,” he coos, talking me through my orgasm, “Just. Like. That.”

His thumb doesn’t let up from his ministrations until my orgasm has slowly faded and I come back down from my high. Not wasting any time I press my lips back to his, kissing him deeply and hungrily. I need to feel him inside me and I cannot wait much longer. I move to untie the laces of his pants and he stands, hoisting me into the air as I continue to straddle his waist.

Once I’ve successfully unlaced his pants, his throbbing member springs free. I grab the base of his shaft and begin pumping his large cock. He throws his head back and moans loudly. He places me on the soft sand and hovers over me as I continue to service him.

“I need to be inside you,” he breathes raggedly.

He lines himself at my entrance and rubs his throbbing head against my clit. I’m dripping with anticipation. He enters me slowly at first, and he grunts loudly.

“Fuck,” he whispers in my ear. He pushes himself all the way in, fighting against my tight dripping cunt.

He spreads me out wider than I have ever been before and I cry out with pleasure.

“Your pussy is so perfect,” he growls. He pushes further in until there is nothing left and I wrap my legs around him, not wanting him to pull back out.

He begins slowly pumping in and out of my aching pussy, and my arousal rings out like a symphony.

“Oh god, Astarion,” I whine. The way he fills me so completely as if my pussy was molded perfectly around his cock sends me into a feral frenzy.

“That’s right, darling,” he hisses, “Say my name like a fucking prayer.” He picks up the pace, punishing my pussy with his forceful thrusts.

“Astarion,” I cry again, letting his name fall from my lips in absolute reverence.

He snakes an arm around my back and lifts my hips up slightly which only serves to penetrate me deeper than I ever thought possible. He picks up his pace further, letting his cock slip in and out of me with ease.

I can feel myself on the verge of toppling over the edge once again, “I-I’m gonna… Oh Astarion,” I whimper, unable to fully form a sentence.

“Come for me, love,” he growls in my ear, “I want to feel you come for me.”

His words send me over the edge and I’m falling into another orgasm. I cry out loud, a mix of screams and moans fall from my lips as my orgasm rips through my body. My walls tighten around him and he hisses in response. I keep falling, holding on to my orgasm for as long as I can. My toes curl and I pull back on his ivory curls, eliciting a growl from the depths of his core.

“Gods below,” he growls as I tighten around his thick cock. His thrusts slow as my orgasm subsides. Before I can catch my breath he flips me over onto my hands and knees

I breathe heavily, panting uncontrollably, my body spasming in the aftermath of my release. Before I have time to think, he enters me once again, the new position filling me with unadulterated pleasure.

Astarion grabs a fistful of my hair and pulls me to his chest, arching my back to an ungodly degree. He clasps to my neck and pierces my throat once again with his sharp fangs. The pain lances through me and the pleasure I receive from the pain is worth it. He starts to drink my sweet blood once again while thrusting in and out of my pussy. I meet his thrusts with my hips, and the force ripples through my body–my ass bouncing gracefully against his hips.

I ride his cock until I can no longer see. My life’s essence slips from my body and the accompanying delirium empties my mind from all the worries from earlier. I cry against his punishing pace. He pulls away from my throat once again and growls in my ear, “You are invigorating, you know that?”

I nod helplessly, unable to focus on anything but the way he stretches me out and hits my sweet spot. I cry out, his sweet words egging me on.

“I think you deserve to come one more time,” he snarls in my ear, pulling on my hair just a bit harder until my back can arch no further. He continues to fuck up and into me, his thrusts becoming faster than anything I’ve ever experienced. I nod my head pathetically.

“Please,” I beg.

His powerful hips rail into me over and over again and I fall deeper and deeper into his rough embrace. His tongue drags up the back of my neck sending shivers down my spine. He sucks and kisses the back of my neck adding another layer of pleausre.

“Fall apart,” he growls deeply in my ear. It is the only thing I care to hear. I come undone around him all over again. His thrusts become sloppier, and he pounds into me quicker and quicker until he is falling with me.

“Yes,” I cry, “Come for me Astarion,” I whimper. He unloads himself inside me, his panting is the only thing I hear as I fall apart with him. Pleasure ripples through our bodies–our collective ecstasy is the only thing that matters at this moment.

He continues to pump into me until he has spilled all of his spent. My orgasm subsides and he falls on top of me, pinning me to the ground.

We breathe harder, waiting to come back down to Faerun. His body moves in time with mine and I savor the aftermath of my orgasm. I shall never come down from the heavens after that.

Once we have collected our strength, he pulls himself out of me and rolls over onto his back near the fire. I roll over onto my side and memorize his features as he looks up at the sky, a look of satisfaction paints his features.

He turns to me and smiles, his guard completely down and I have never seen anything quite so beautiful, “That was… amazing,” he breathes, licking some of the blood from the corner of his mouth with his tongue.

“I–” I can’t seem to gather the words I want to say, “Thank you,” I finally amend.

He rolls to his side and faces me, tracing small circles into my skin with his cool fingertips, “Thank you,” he whispers. And for a fleeting moment, I wonder what he is thanking me for. I smile in response, not wanting to ruin the moment with my questions.

He reaches forward and tucks some hair behind my ear, his knuckles grazing my cheekbone in the process.

“I–I want you to know,” he says softly, his hand never leaving the side of my face, “I’m glad you’re here. With me. I don’t think I want to be in a world without you,” he smiles softly, “Whatever that may look like.”

I smile shyly, “I’m glad I’m here too. Thank you… for everything.”

He wraps an arm around my midsection and pulls me to him until both his arms are wrapped around me securely. He places a gentle kiss on my temple. I turn my head and plant a soft kiss on his lips.

“Don’t let go until the morning,” I whisper. My smile is gone, but admiration still takes over my features. My savior. My hero. He saved my life in more ways than one. I’m excited to see where things take us. While the future is not set in stone, I have a feeling I’ll be able to get through anything with him by my side.

“I won’t,” he whispers before kissing me softly. “Promise me,” he begins, “Promise me that you will find me the next time you feel like death is your only option.”

“I swear,” I whisper. “Promise me you will open up to me as well… Whenever you’re ready.” I can tell that something weighs heavy on his soul, and I never want him to feel the depth of loneliness I felt.

He chuckles, “I save you…and you save me.” The statement is a promise. I smile knowing that this is the start of a beautiful relationship. I let him squeeze me in his strong embrace until we both drift off to sleep, relieved to have distracted ourselves from the painful reality that awaits us on the morrow.

#astarion #bg3 #Durge fanfic #astarion fanfic #astarion x tav #astarion x dark urge #astarion x female reader #astarion x f!tav #astarion x f!reader #astarion x female tav #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fanfic #durge x astarion #f!reader x astarion #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate astarion #baldur's gate iii

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kerubimcrepin · 1 month

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Live-read: "Julith et Jahash" - Part 2

Ohhh this will take me 20 years to get through due to me not knowing French. Pain.

He doesn't want to go...

There is a test called Kramdam. People, — young huppermages, — are selected randomly for it, and it is an honor, seemingly. But I do wonder what it entails.

(I also wonder if,,, if Joris, perhaps, had to go through whatever it is. God I can't wait to know more.)

He can hardly cast a single spell...? I love you, Jahash. I love you a lot.

"I'M A HUPPERNOBODY" and i'm going to die. If I write more fics about Joris's hupperangst, I am going to make him huppersay that.

The Jurgens have had 3-4 silly, silly generations of hupperangst.

I don't believe you. #BontaHatersGang #TheirUn-BeautifulNation

All guards are bastards btw. Including Keke, considering he used to be one.

THEY SEND HUPPERMAGE KIDS TO DIE AND ADVISE THEM TO TELL GOODBYE TO THEIR LOVED ONES?!?!?!??!?!

Imagine Kerubim and Joris in this situation. Haha. Haha. Haha. Haha. :))))))

ha.

"I fucking hate Bonta AND I hate the huppermage academy and temple AND I hate——" (c) things both me, and 15-16yo Joris Jurgen would say.

This comic is making me so emotional and by that I mean I would [DATA EXPUNGED] the castle of Bonta with explosive devices.

"Your father was a [ableist slur ableist slur] and you look like an [ableist slur ableist slur] and I hate you both. Especially you, even though I've known you for 3 minutes. But you CAN'T return home. We are sending you to huppermage hunger games and I really hope you die there. KILL YOURSELF."

I am never going to take the huppermage academy seriously again after this. They're genuinely so fucking unspeakably cringe and evil.

For all the "I am going to commit vehicular manslaughter on everyone in the huppermage academy (to avenge the babygirls (the entire Jurgen family))", I do wanna point out that it's cool, how the comic transitions from full colour style to manga, after Jahash drinks the recall potion.

#ro liveblogs dofus #dofus #wakfu #krosmoz #joris jurgen #julith-et-jahash #I will keep tagging joris for my blog's organisation sake. I think the fact that huppermages are this evil is useful info to know #for all joris fans. he must have been so miserable in this environment. no wonder he only fights using a log.#no wonder he shapes waven's bonta into a militaristic dictatorship (to make things better and Change Society. yaaay...)

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xecutivecucumber · 1 month

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Executive Cucumber's Thoughts on the Bad Batch Season 3, Episode 5, The Return!

(And I'm doing this instead of sleeping)

Spoilers after the break

Notes may not be in order

At first I was a little disappointed that we didn't start immediately after the end of the last episode, but I think I prefer it. We can have the reunion any way we want now. It's possible that the writers thought that they would all just awkwardly and quietly get on the Marauder and fly off and they knew we would be disappointed by that. So they left it to us to imagine what happened next. I think that's also why they didn't show Crosshair finding out about Tech. For them, Crosshair might just stay silent, or disassociate or something and we wouldn't be satisfied. But now we get to imagine all kinds of angst for when that happened.

Oh, the contrast between Omega waking up on Pabu and on Tantiss. SHE DESERVES THIS SO MUCH.

Aww AZ really loves Omega.

Okay, but how did Crosshair accept the fruit? Did he say thank you? I NEED TO SEE CROSSHAIR BE AWKWARD AROUND NORMAL PEOPLE.

I honestly think Crosshair wants to train Omega as his replacement if he can't get over his hands.

Wrecker and Hunter just blatantly watching them is amazing.

MOM'S HOME

Crosshair's sass is everything to me in this episode.

I honestly think that Echo is the only one who really talks about Tech out loud because he's the only one of them who has experienced loss before. He knows how to handle it. The others...do not.

STOP MAKING CROSSHAIR GO TO COLD PLACES, ESPECIALLY WHEN THAT COLD PLACE TRAUMATIZED HIM

'Little brother' oh my gosh they are my everything.

I expected Crosshair to love Omega, but he ADORES her and I am here for it. I'm also here for the fury for when she is inevitably captured again.

Hunter, you are a butt. I still love you.

HIS ARMOR. YES. YES. YES.

'It still fits' it might not have because he was so skinny and that is devastating.

Oh my gosh Hunter and Crosshair's arguing is everything I could have wanted.

'Kill each other later' Echo I love you.

I love that Batcher is just a member of the Batch now. Also, Hunter, get your senses in order the dog is doing your job.

THE HELMETS. AAAAAAAAAGH.

Hunter: sees Crosshair tenderly arranging helmets

Also Hunter: this is unreasonably suspicious

TOOTHPICKS YES

HIS TREMBLING HAAAANDS

Ugh I love Crosshair and Hunter's fight so much. Crosshair isn't just pushing Hunter's buttons, he's legitimately angry that Hunter let Omega get captured and go through what she did. And then there's the beautiful subtext of 'you let Tech die.'

Crosshair and Batcher are best duo.

THE SNOW IS SO GORGEOUS

CROSSHAIR SOUNDS SO MUCH LIKE TECH HE EVEN SAYS 'OMEGA' THE SAME WAY.

This is their get-along-worm.

Wrecker hugging Crosshair and Hunter may be one of my favorite things ever.

'There's no blood.' I am requesting all fic writers to provide me with a plethora of fics featuring Hunter and Crosshair fighting to bloodshed, ranging from angst to the stupidest argument ever.

CROSSHAIR YOU BEAUTIFUL PERSON YOU OPENED UP.

Okay after Hunter said he did things he regretted too I'm now convinced that he has committed so many war crimes in trying to find Omega. Wrecker has nightmares about it.

I can't remember where, but Crosshair's theme was played in the major key!!! LET HIM BE HAPPY

Crosshair is such a joy to watch this episode. This is who he is and it really contrasts with chipped Crosshair.

I miss Tech so much. I want to see him in this dynamic. I also want to see Crosshair and Phee's dynamic.

I mean this in the most complimentary way possible: this episode felt like a fanfiction. The focus on their interactions and emotions feels like something we'd get from a fic rather than Canon. And I love every moment of it.

I adore seasons 1 and 2, but there were definitely episodes I preferred over another. This season has been 10/10 for me so far. And once more I have to wait a FREAKING week for more.

#the bad batch season 3 #tbb season 3 #tbb spoilers #tbb season 3 spoilers #spoilers #the bad batch #tbb #the bad batch season 3 spoilers #tbb crosshair #tbb hunter #tbb echo #tbb omega #tbb wrecker #tbb tech #tbb batcher

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cursedcola · 2 years

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What if reader/yuu had the knowledge of all the disney villains and told their counterparts about the story they come from?

Kind of like "you know...I actually did know the seven before coming here. They were all villains in children's books" but then they say how NRC has changed their view of the original stories? (any characters are fine!)

{Hello! I did think about this when first playing through the game. I was even considering crafting a longer fic. based on the idea. Since this involves the 7...why not stick to the dorm leaders for this? I’m not caught up for anything beyond Book 3 -though I did get book 4 spoiled- so I don’t want to do Scarabia/Pomefoire/Dismonia/Ignihyde just yet.}

WARNING: Spoilers for books 1-4 below the cut

Imagine: You told them the truth about the seven.

Characters: Riddle Roseheart, Leona KingScholar, and Azul Ashengrotto

Riddle Rosehearts

He appears offended, dare I say appalled. What nonsense were you going on about? The Queen of Hearts is evil? Bad-tempered? She is a tyrant? A villain?

You’re starting to sound like Ace. Is this another one of his poorly planned pranks?

“If you have enough time to craft lies, then you should devote it towards your studies. One day I will not be here to tutor you,” is what he’d say, not giving the idea more than a moment’s thought. After a brief respite he adds, “Do not speak of this to anyone. It’s useless thinking,” in a tone that leaves no room for argument

He then moves on, acting if your talk was a simple chat about the weather. Utterly forgettable

or so you assume, but Riddle knows well that you aren’t one to jest about serious matters. Suggesting fault in one of the seven is something no student would be stupid to do, not even Ace

It’s grounds for getting on many professors’ bad side. Riddle doesn’t know where you come from, but you need to keep those thoughts to yourself

He’s glad that you came to him with the thought first. If it were anyone else...

He hopes you will let it go. There is no rule saying that questioning the seven is not allowed, but he does not want you to be bullied for outlandish behavior

So imagine his surprise, when you mention the topic again. Not even a day has gone by and you implore him to let you finish the story.

He wants no part of it. Not until you mention how he reminds you of the Queen

“Did you just- I am NOT a tyrant. Are you here just to insult me?”

He feels hurt, considering you saw his over-blot and genuine effort to be better ever since. It especially aches since he now knows how your homeland views the Queen of Hearts

Please say that you’re joking. That he-

He changed your view of the Queen? You now feel that the Queen’s behavior was a byproduct of miscommunications. That no person is born hateful or relentless. That she did bad, but no one in your world looked at her as a person or tried to understand why she made so many rules. That her temper was poorly portrayed, and she likely had unattended emotional needs that manifested as anger. It’s wrong to call her purely evil.

But most of all, in your world they are stories and in Twisted Wonderland they are real. He’s a perfect example of how the world isn’t black and white, or in his case - red. People change, and maybe the Queen of Hearts in Twisted Wonderland is revered because she had a change of heart while ruling

Similar to how he is now. Kind, yet still strict out of love for his peers

“You...I’ve heard enough. So long as you are not bad-mouthing the seven then talk as much as you like. However, everything you just said is only for my ears. Do not repeat those comparisons to anyone else,”

He tries to hide how flustered your breakthrough makes him. Though he never was one to hold his emotions in well, “thank you. I am glad you think of me as kind...”

Leona KingScholar

“Yeah...definitely sounds like something I would do. Though I wouldn’t commit murder so openly. I also wouldn’t leave any evidence”

Never mind that he enacted an exact parallel of Scar’s schemes, but in sports...and without the killing. Although Ruggie did come close to needing an urn

He also frenzied. Murder was likely not unfathomable when in his over-blot form. He also said hurtful things, turned on the hyenas, let his sibling-complex overtake his conscience

Alright. He can understand why you would compare him to ‘your’ version of Scar. What initially ruffles his fur is that your version is entirely different than the one he’s learned about

Leona has some trouble accepting that you are from a different dimension, or whatever it is that you want to call it. Let’s not begin with how there is no magic where you’re from, or that most of his home’s history is a mere story book.

Actually, he wants to focus on that part. Just the last bit, because you clearly need a reminder that his world isn’t a book and saying so makes him a bit peeved

How would you feel if someone waltzed in, saying they knew your life from reading a book? Essentially casting aside your struggles, personality, wants, needs, and homeland as some bed-time story?

I bet it wouldn’t feel great. Especially if you mock one of their historical figures, and compare them to your undesirable counterpart

He snaps when you mention Simba, and how in your world Scar kills his brother and casts out his nephew.

Too cruel. Too much.

Something the old him might have considered if pushed too far

“Listen here herbivore. You don’t know me, so quit acting like it. I don’t care if you’ve had to re-hash your thoughts since coming here. Your opinion means nothing to me,” his tail lashes out in frustration, “so keep it to yourself” He didn’t intend to sound so harsh, but he wanted you to stop. He didn’t like how accurate your foretelling was.

It made him feel Small. Powerless. Sick.

He hated that you saw him for the beast that he knows he is, despite his new attitude

When you stop him from leaving, he feels the firmness of your grip. You know he’s hurt, which upsets him further. He grits his teeth when you demand to be heard, and feels his fangs meet the flesh of his cheek.

His heart hurts when you retell your Scar’s story, but in a different light. One he’s taught you. Your Scar is bright, yet his lineage pushed him down a darker path. Peer pressure, the intense loneliness, watching his brother be the favorite from birth...perhaps he did want to help the hyenas at one point. Maybe he didn’t want to be King, but instead wanted to be appreciated as himself and not Mufasa’s brother. Your book doesn’t tell his story, only showing his relevance to Simba. He did horrible things, but lived his life in anguish. He died as alone as he was alive.

Twisted Wonderland - Leona - helped you see him as a kindred soul. You thought knowing Scar meant you knew Leona, and you were wrong

Leona would never hurt his family. Leona wants to see things grow from his power, not crumble under his feet. Leona wants the hyena’s to live well, and protects the people close to him. Leona cares about his country. Leona’s eyes sparkle when Ruggie brings him goodies from the cafeteria, his features are soft when you rest together in the gardens, and he -

he’s heard enough. That’s for sure.

“Stop. I get it, you like me. You think I am great, which is no surprise. I don’t need you telling me everything that I already know,” he half-grins and ruffles your hair.

He’s also in love. Not something his or your Scar could ever understand.

Azul Ashengrotto

Tread lightly when telling him about Ursula. Very lightly.

Ursula, is someone Azul greatly respects. She is a powerful sea witch that pulls all stops to ensure she comes out victorious. She is greatly respected among the sea-folk and most importantly - she is an octopus.

A beautiful cephalopod that overcame the trials and tribulations put before her and made a place for herself in the world. She carved it with her own deeds, underhanded as they may be. She made everyone who shunned her regret ever dismissing her.

Did you seriously think he never noticed the similarities? He is not blind. Okay, yes he wears glasses but it is a metaphor.

What matters is that Azul resonates with Ursula more than the other dorm heads do with their assigned member of the Seven.

He admires her so much that any comparison you make between the two is taken as a compliment. He does notice how you favor saying “Ursula of the Seven,” instead of simply “Ursula,” but marks it as showing respect. Who else could you be referring to anyways?

In Azul’s case, you are not the one to mention the Ursula from your world. He is the one to ask. When Azul finds something precious, he wants to fully ensnare it. To imprint himself on it, and study it until it cannot be studied further

And you know how it is with humans. They never stop changing, so Azul simply has to keep learning. Prying. Engraving himself into all aspects of you until not a day will pass where he isn’t in your thoughts or you in his. Until the day your short lifespan ceases and he’s left alone with whatever memories of you are left.

So imagine how fascinated he is by your world. How there is no magic, or dominating races other than humans (he laughs at this, utterly unconvinced). Your kind has adapted with technology and he wonders if Ignihyde is a better fit for you than Ramshackle. The different cultures, countries, histories, species, and everything in between. What on earth is a Dinosaur and can they be revived somehow? He wants to see your world and perhaps take over the buisness side of it

He wants to be part of your world where you, a human unlike any he’s ever met, has grown into the one he loves so dearly

On the topic of world religion and politics, he asks about the great seven. It’s when you chuckle, dismissing them as fiction does he grow curious. He can accept that they are not world powers but wants to know how both your worlds intertwine

“Fiction? The great seven are children’s stories?” he asks, arching an eyebrow “are they different than foretelling here? Would you be willing to transcribe them or whatever you can recall?”

He instantly notes your hesitance and newly guarded behavior, “is there something you are hiding from me?”

For his sake, you best come clean. He may be willing to wait but will only grow more curious. He doesn’t like being lied to, even if it by omission.

Villain. Evil. Liar. Soul Stealer. Cradle Rocker. Trickster. Fat. Ugly. Monstrous.

Ursula is not loved in your world.

You often compare him to her as well

“I am monstrous? Is that your true opinion of my kind?” He knows that there must be more, but cannot stop the sinking feeling that is clawing its way out of his stomach and into his throat. As if he is ready to vomit a portrait of his suffering onto the coffee table between you both.

Correct him. For once, tell him that he is wrong

Azul registers your movement to his side and the way you gently pry open the intense grip he has on his pen - the one he’d been writing notes about your world with

He faintly hears you tell Ursula's story again, unlike his own or the one from your world. You sound muffled, yet determined to break past the voice in his head that’s repeating the word ‘monster’ on an endless loop.

Your story is of a young octopus, who fell into darkness as the result of social norms. She was beautiful, striking even, and just wanted to belong in a sea full of people who could only see her differences as something to be feared. She felt if she could not belong, that she would instead create a world where no one else would matter aside from herself. The sea’s need for conformity tried to crush her, and she pushed back in ways that hurt her just as much as the other merfolk. She was not evil, but isolated. A product of how hate breeds hate.

You never compared Azul to the ‘Villain,’ Ursula in your world’s storybook. You compared him to the greatness he saw in Ursula of the Seven, and to the strength you could now see in Ursula from your world. He too was pushed down, yet he worked to build himself a life. He too had almost lost himself, but is now on a path of self-love. The way you clutch him as if he’d leave and never return shows how much he is cherished.

“You are not a monster. You are what I wish my world’s Ursula had the ability to see in herself. Strength, beauty, intelligence,” he feels your hold tighten, “deserving to love and be loved by others. I love you more than anything, Azul”

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