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flightfoot · 3 months

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Marinette Completed Angst Fic Reclist

I know some people really like this genre, so I figured I'd make a list for it! These will obviously all be completed, and none of them will be bashing fics, and PLEASE don't rec any fics on this post that are bashing fics, I don't want to see them.

Some of these will have my own commentary about the fic attached to it, for if I've put them on a previous reclist where I had that commentary written out. But a lot of the older fics won't.

For a fic to count for this, the angst Marinette goes through can't just be her being upset about what someone else is going through, though the angst of the fic doesn't only need to be hers, so long as she has her own angst which is a decently prominent part of the fic.

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one does not love breathing by @wackus-bonkus-maximus

All of Paris watched as Hawkmoth murdered Chat Noir, taking the Black Cat Miraculous for himself. Ladybug swears revenge, but her enemy—and every miraculous in his possession—disappear without a trace.

Six years later, a new team of villains launches an attack for the last remaining Miraculous: Volpina, armed with new powers; Queen Bee, with questionable loyalty; Argos, the new holder of the Peacock Miraculous; and Cat Walker, who Ladybug hates the most.

Takes place after S4 - Strike Back.

This is a simply phenomenal fic. You get to explore a lot of different perspectives, like Felix, Kagami, Marinette, and Adrien’s, just to name a few, and see their different thought processes and plans and priorities, and how it can cause their plans to collide with each other, even when they all ultimately are aiming for a good outcome for everyone. The characters are pretty complex and can mess up at times, even when they’re doing things (or not doing things, looking at you Luka) with the best of intentions. It was a joy to read and a real nail-biter the whole time, I actually wrote a fic for it halfway through just to resolve some of the tension for myself, One Does Not Love Shadows.

It also features the version of Luka I’ve connected best with to date, as he feels like Luka, but also is a lot more fleshed out, and can make some major errors while simply trying to avoid missteps. It’s helped me get a better handle on a character who I’ve generally had a lot of problems with really understanding.

It is an M-rated fic, though I think Wackus is being overly cautious on that front. There’s no sexual content and I wouldn’t put the violence or gore above a T-rating, so I wouldn’t let the rating scare you off.

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you don’t even know me at all (but I was made for loving you) by @ladyofthenoodle

They didn’t remember each other. The hospital told them there’d been an accident—brain damage—but Alya had told them the truth, later. Who’d they’d been to each other. What they’d given up, and why. But even with their memories of each other gone, Adrien and Marinette are still inextricably tied together—by law, by their social circles, and by their hearts. And in the apartment they share, there’s only one bed.

Yep, it’s the “there was only one bed” trope XD! I especially love how it was used here, how Adrien and Marinette are strangers now but they had a whole life together, and they pine for each other even without remembering, and how Marinette just can’t believe how in love with her Adrien is even though he doesn’t remember her. I loved the emotional turmoil the two of them went through together in the fic, and the resolution, it’s great!

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fine line by @bbutterflies

“Catwalker?” Loveybug asks. “Hmm?” “Do you remember… what happened before us?” “What do you mean?” “Before we were heroes. Was there someone else?” Catwalker goes quiet for a moment. “I don’t know,” he finally says.

This is a surprisingly angsty take on the Loveybug AU. Here, since the Loveybug and Cat Walker transformations are so unnatural, they’re having negative side effects on Marinette and Adrien, causing them to be constantly exhausted and even to get amnesia the longer they continue using them.

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do you think I have forgotten about you? by @roseinaugust

Based on the song ‘About You’ by The 1975. Memory Loss. Told in alternating time lines, one leading up to and one dealing with the aftermath of Marinette relinquishing the Miracle Box and the guardianship. Marinette struggles with her life after losing her memory, though there is a persistent voice that calls to her that always seems just out of reach in her memory.

Beautiful memory loss fic here, with seeing Ladybug’s and Chat Noir’s relationship before she gave up the Miracle box, juxtaposed with the present day, when Adrien is only a stranger to her. I could really feel how Marinette was struggling with navigating these new circumstances, with her friends seeming to expect her to remember, to be who she was to them, to Adrien especially, before, and her just… not knowing whether she can do that. It’s got a happy ending though, for those who are concerned about that.

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Our Tales Are Endless (That’s Why I Tell Them) by @joonapeach

Marinette lives a simple life - one surrounded by pretty dresses, fresh macaroons, and the calming view of Paris. It’s a life she thinks she has always fit in. And yet sometimes, when a certain boy comes by her shop with a flower and a new adventurous story, she can’t help but wonder if there’s something else she’s missing.

This was a truly gorgeous story. It’s the classic “Marinette gives up the Miracle Box and loses her memories” storyline, exploring her life two years later. Even though she’s had time to heal and recover, she still feels like she’s missing something, something big. At least Adrien’s stopping by regularly to tell her stories about Ladybug and Chat Noir, even if she doesn’t understand why they resonate with her so well.

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I (Wish I) Knew You by @buggachat

University has been hard on Marinette. Making new friends and maintaining her grades is a lot easier said than done when she has to disappear at odd times to fight akumas. She's struggling, and with Alya away with family and Adrien painfully out of reach, she's never felt lonelier.

If only she could talk to someone who really understood her struggles... but it's not like Chat Noir would know anything about loneliness. Right?

Nice aged-up Ladynoir fic here! Marinette’s struggling with losing friends and lovers because of her flakiness due to her superhero activities, until at last she breaks down. Thankfully, Chat Noir’s there at least - and it soon turns out he’s got problems of his own that he’s been hiding.

There’s some fluff and angst, it’s mostly just the two of them navigating life, dealing with their feelings and talking things out.

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If I Let Myself Love You by @uptoolateart

It’s hard to be a normal girl with a normal life when your mother has terminal cancer. And when fashion model Adrien Agreste moves back to Paris and wants to be Marinette’s friend – or maybe even more – her life is turned upside down again.

How can she risk opening her heart to love when her whole world is falling apart? Especially when Adrien is hiding a dark secret of his own….

- COMPLETE FIC – updates on Sundays

*** No kwamis AU - 100% Adrinette. About half of it is fluffy and half heavy. Please read tags for trigger warnings. ***

This fic can be rough, definitely pay attention to the tags. There’s no villains in this story, it mostly centers around themes of dealing with illness - both being sick and having a loved one who’s terminally ill - and death, grieving someone who’s lost, and how difficult that can be. It can get pretty gut-wrenching at times, especially as you slowly discover more layers of what’s really going on, what both Adrien and Marinette are hiding, both from others and from themselves in order to help cope with their circumstances. But they still move forwards together, regardless.

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Between the Heavens and the Embers by @readersmoon

Everyone in Paris remembers the fateful night of January 16, when the city was attacked by the most powerful and destructive akuma ever created. The assault, which lasted for hours, resulted in the death of 439 people.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng was among the casualties.

Years later, Adrien hasn't been able to move on, haunted by the memories of her broken body. So, when the opportunity to leave Paris for a while presents itself, he doesn't hesitate. But this trip might end up giving him more than he ever dreamt of.

This is a fantastic fic, though a serious and a dark one - make sure to mind the tags, and it’s M-rated for a reason. Vee - or rather, Marinette - is going through a horror story here. Imagine finding out that your life is a lie, that everyone you thought you could trust was manipulating you, that you were just being continually gaslit for years.

As for Adrien, Alya, and Nino... well, none of them took Marinette’s “death” all that well, especially Adrien. Finding out that she’s been alive all this time, in these horrible circumstances, and they had no clue... it’s hard on them as well.

I love how this fic goes into how much trauma everyone has even after the immediate danger’s dealt with, you don’t just walk off this kind of experience, especially with how many years this lasted.

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in case you don’t know me tomorrow by @thelibraryloser:

“We live in a crazy world where pieces of our lives can be erased like they never even happened. I just wanted to memorize this moment so… so I could keep it, if that makes sense.”

Adrien’s heart gave a little flutter. She wanted to keep this moment, meeting him. She wanted to keep… him.

“I understand exactly what you mean.“

In a world that has created a way to selectively delete memories, no moment is truly safe. So how do you hold on to something when the memory of it is gone? And how do you keep fighting for someone when you’re the only one who remembers?

This is a SEVERELY underrated fic. It’s got some shades of “Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind” in the world, though the plot is very different - the memory erasure ain’t willing.

Basically, the first few chapters are establishing Adrien’s and Marinette’s romance, and then the rest of the fic is dealing with Gabriel being an absolute DICK and using any means at his disposal to break them apart. It’s fantastic and I highly recommend reading it!

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hella enchanted by @xiueryn:

Years ago, Marinette’s father died and she was left with her awful stepmother. With magic forcing her to obey every command, she lived as a servant and gave up hope. When a man appears, searching for the very fairy that blessed her, Marinette decides to give life one more try. AU.

(a different ella enchanted au.)

Even though it’s a one-shot this one is pretty long, clocking in at over 30k words. Absolutely worth a shot, though. The first third is basically Marinette dealing with being pushed around because of her “blessing”, and the other two-thirds is just some adorable fluff of her and Adrien touring the country together.

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Echoes of You by kittinoir

In the day time, she's Marinette - a normal girl, with a normal life. A normal girl, with a normal life. A normal girl, with... Not Season 4 Compliant; please, no spoilers

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balancing act by fictionalinfinity

“Besides, being Ladybug always came first. It came before school, friends, and sometimes even family. Now it had to come before her health. Marinette had a duty to Paris. She wouldn’t let them down.” Or, being both Ladybug and the Guardian starts to take its toll on Marinette. - the epilepsy au literally no one asked for

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Some Days by @merrygreenie

Some days are worse, and others are a little better, little by little and day by day. Marinette Dupain-Chen is learning how to live her new normal after living in confinement and being tortured by Hawkmoth. She is thankful to have her friends and family to support her. And a very special Chat who loves her very much. *This story contains scenes of violence and torture this is a whump fic*

This fic has some great angst, but be warned, it's not kidding about the violence and torture. Honestly, it should probably be rated M instead of Teen, given that while the fic mostly takes place after Marinette escapes and while she's recovering, we do get a detailed flashback to her torture.

#miraculous ladybug #ml fanfic rec #marinette dupain cheng #angst

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aziraphales-library · 8 months

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Do you have any ineffable husbands human aus where they're angsty with a happy ending?

Here are some angst with a happy ending human aus...

Upon This Rock by Eowyn1846 (M)

Crowley and Aziraphale meet as teenagers participating in a youth curling league. Years after losing touch when Crowley's family moves away, the two former friends are reunited at a major tournament...as competitors on two very cut-throat teams, whose captains seem willing to win at any cost, even to the detriment of the sport.

What the World Gives by Adzeisval (T)

Being a teenager is hard Aziraphale Fell feels out of place among his peers and has difficulties making friends. He is terrified that if his parents realize he is gay they will kick him out. Anthony Crowley is a new student hoping to fit in and hoping his medical issues don't make themselves known. Sometimes the world can be harsh, but sometimes one lucks out and has someone by their side.

Our Lost Time by Izabella95 & UnproblematicMe (E)

Aziraphale Crowley awakes in the hospital after an almost fatal accident. But he is lucky and gets away alive and without permanent injuries. The close call sets things into perspective and he wants to fix his strained marriage. His husband, Anthony Crowley - who simply goes by "Crowley" - takes good care of Aziraphale after the accident, but there seems to be an invisible barrier between the spouses. Can Aziraphale save his relationship? What secrets does Crowley keep?

Heaven (Is a Place on Earth) by soft_october (M)

“I’m just sneaking a break from the festivities, as it were.” Crowley twists his hand in a gesture meant to sum up the circumstances which led him here. “I haven’t taken up residency in the back of a bookshop in the middle of paradise.” “Ah, well, we clearly disagree over what, precisely, paradise might mean.” Aziraphale's eyes are sharp, and through that initial mask of annoyance, a small smile is curling. Crowley came to Lower Tadfield, the UKs version of San Junipero, to have a good time, try out the software, step out of his old and failing body into the magic of a virtual world with no consequences. At least that's what he had planned, until one night he stumbles into a bookshop and meets a buttoned up, blue eyed wonder with pale curls and a perfect smile.

A streetcar named desire by elf_on_the_shelf (E)

Crowley is trying his absolute best - even if that ain't all that grand - to please Morgan & Partners in his role as Chief Architect on their new development. Too bad that this development in particular is on the very same site that the City Council wants to build a light rail network on and, even though Crowley hates everyone involved, can he hate the angelic person who is in charge of the whole project?

The Ghost of Husbands Past by A_N_D (E)

Az always knew that he’d be thrown out the moment his father found out he was gay. He hadn’t expected to be declared dead though - or for his husband to believe it! But their marriage had been a foolish teenage impulse (not to mention invalid in America), so when Az moved to a small town far upstate New York to start his new life, he moved alone. The kindest thing he could do was let Crowley mourn and move on, not be shackled for life to a now disabled partner. Tony Crowley never recovered from losing his best friend, his childhood sweetheart, his better half. He’d been drifting ever since; no plans, no hope, no money - and now, just before Thanksgiving, no job either. Given the stark choice of freezing to death or accepting his sister’s invitation to join her upstate, Tony reluctantly lives out the Hallmark cliche of Recently Unemployed Person Moves to Small Town for Christmas. It’s a time of hope, love, and family. It’s time for Az and Tony to find each other again.

- Mod D

#good omens #ineffable husbands #human au #angst #happy ending #angst with a happy ending #mod d

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adventuringblind · 9 months

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Enemy Territory

George Russel x Horner!Reader

Genre: angst

Request: nope and I have nothing else to do so here ya go. I’m in the mood for angst. Give me saddest, angsty, hurt/comfort ideas. I’m so ready.

Summary: you and George have been managing a relationship below the radar. Both of you just want to spend time together and hopefully avoid the drama of the rivalry. When you have to go behind enemy lines to give something back to George, everything falls apart.

Warnings: Angry Toto, Angry Christian, toxic behaviors, mentions of sex, alcohol consumption

Notes: written in second person. I feel that Princess George needs some love… so I write angst. We’re not gonna talk about it.

Masterlist

You and George had met under interesting circumstances. You didn’t normally go with Max to the after race parties that happened fairly often, but you’d decided to this time.

For as long as you two had been friends, you’d never noticed how Max tends to go overboard with his alcohol. His cheeks were flushed by the first hour.

It was at this party that you met George. Well, officially met him. You’d seen each other in passing but never took the time to introduce yourself to him. Especially since in your fathers eyes he is the enemy.

Oddly enough, he was sober. Maybe a light buzz at the most from slowly sipping his drink. He found a spot next to her and stared at Lando and Charles in exasperation. “I take it your the designated driver tonight.” She asked him. Trying to make light of the current situation.

“Unfortunately yes. I normally wouldn’t be upset about it, but those two are going hard on the drink.” George explains. His lips twisting into a frown.

“I feel you, I have to drag Max out of here eventually.”

George sucked in a breath. “I am so sorry. Want to be sober together then?”

“Why not”

You’re spent your night talking to George. Turns out you two get along well. Not that you didn’t think you would. You’d liked him for awhile. Something about the way he carries himself is oddly attractive.

He offered his car to you and Max. With two of you helping the intoxicated boys inside, it would go by faster.

And he was right. It didn’t take long with both of you dragged the boys to bed. Their hotel key cards left with a note. Water and aspirin in the bedside table.

It took you about an hour to get them all back safe. Both if you sighing in relief. You walked George back out to his car, assuming you two would part ways.

“You know, we never got to have fun.” George smirked

Then you found yourself in George’s hotel room. His lips attached to your as soon as you stepped through the door.

The sensation was strange, but in a good way. You were both sober meaning he wasn’t doing this impulsively. So you kissed back. Your fathers opinion not mattering in this moment.

“I know we technically just met, but we’ve been around each other for years now. I think your gorgeous and you’re so gently to everyone. I don’t care if we go any further but I needed to tell you before I exploded or something.” He let out a nervous laugh. His hand finding the back of his neck.

You respond by kissing him again, pulling away, and smiling. “I feel the same.”

“Wait really? I always thought that you hated me.”

“No my dad has a distaste for Mercedes. But he’s not here. And what about Toto?”

The exasperated expression from earlier makes a reappearance. “Honestly, is basically the same over there. But I’m feeling a bit rebellious.”

Your secret relationship with George had been going great. It was nice having something that was just for the two of you.

Disguised contact names, hidden messages, gifts at each others hotel room doors. It was your and you loved it.

You spent the night in George’s hotel room majority of the time now. Coming and going through back entrances early in the morning.

That’s how Max caught you.

You’d been leaving your hotel to head over to his. It was late so you weren’t expecting to much foot traffic. Least of all Max.

“Where are you off too?” His voice came from behind you. You jump and brace a hand in your chest.

“Good grief Max, don’t scare me like that!”

He just smirked. “Tell me who it is. And before you say no one! I’ve known you since we were teenagers and your dad may not see it but I certainly do.”

“Promise you won’t be mad?” The anxiety flowing through your veins now made you hug yourself.

“I could never.” He placed his hands in your shoulders. A gesture to hopefully comfort her.

“I’ve been dating George Russell for about six months now.”

Shock passed through Max’s eyes but then they settled into a gentleness. “George is a great guy.”

Your face lit up when he didn’t react poorly. “Your not upset that I’m dating a Mercedes driver.”

“No, that would be stupid. Just don’t tell them our secrets.” He winked at you causing you both to laugh.

Max teased you and George, but he also helped you out. He covered for you if you wanted to see George before a race. He once helped you cover a mildly visible hickey. He even drove you to see him if it was late under the guise of snack runs.

George in the other hand, was struggling under the ever observant eyes of Toto Wolff. Toto questioned him about his personal life already, but he’d started doing it every time they were in the same room now.

He loves you and he’s not ready to give up, but he also is terrified of losing his job.

Much to your and Max’s disappointment, Christian was also catching on. Not as strongly as Toto, but he knew you and Max were handing something from him.

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thegreathuxton · 6 months

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Partner in Crime

Pairing: Anthony Lockwood x fem! Reader (NO USE OF Y/N)

Inspired by "Partner in Crime" by Madilyn Mei.

Summary: You walk right up to the head of the empty grave and point at it.

"Get in," you say.

Warnings: MAJOR SPOILERS - Follows book 5 (I've read the books lol). Friends to lovers. Angsty teens, but they find a resolution at the end. Lucy and Lockwood are JUST FRIENDS. Underage drinking. Swearing. Barnes is a huge cockblock. Fluff to angst to fluff. Insinuated height difference (Lockwood is taller than reader).

A/N: NOT BETA RED WE DIE LIKE MEN!! RAHHHH... I went a little Cuckoo Crazy for this one, guys. I'm guesstimating it's between 6k and 9k words. Who knows!

The first time you met him, you were sitting on a bench in Scotland Yard. He was still quite young. Years younger than how you knew him now. He had a bloody nose and sat alone. You had a broken arm and sat alone as well, on a bench opposite of him, all the while filling out some paperwork with your one good hand. Your penmanship was undeniably horrendous, being it was coming from your non-dominant hand.

You felt him staring at you. A little too hard, you must admit. You got through half your case report before you got fed up. You were already agitated because filling out this paperwork was taking twice as long as it should have. You'd be done and gone if it weren't for that stupid, bloody poltergeist and your stupid broken arm.

"Can I help you?" You snapped.

He wasn't slow at giving you a faint smile. Even while holding a tissue to his cherry-red nose in quite an unattractive manner, his charm hit you in waves.

"Quite the opposite, actually," he said so softly. Your wall of anger cracked like an eggshell. "I was hoping I could help you out."

You looked down, partly because you didn't want him to see the blush of frustration blossoming on your cheeks and partly because if you stared at him any longer, your angry act might just crumble all together.

"I'm fine," you muttered.

"You don't look fine..."

The silence engulfed the hall. The ringing telephones were merely echoes, and the voices of people were quiet. It was three in the morning, after all. The only people who would be up at this hour would be the dead, and kids stupid enough, like you, to make the choice to become an agent.

You go back to your chicken scratch. It's a slow and miserable process. There really is no nice way to describe how you had a safe hurl towards you at lighting speed and pin your arm against the wall, snapping it in three places, when the pen you're using is bleeding all over the page and is very well-bound determined to empty itself all over the white paper.

You sat your pen down again out of frustration. You took a deep breath.

You suddenly felt someone draw close, and the clipboard you had been using was lifted out of your lap.

"I don't quite like asking for help, either, you know," he said, picking up the pen and crossing his legs. "But we all have to learn how to do so, eventually. I'll let you off this time."

He was smiling as he read over what you had written. He had shoved a tissue up his nostril to ease the bleeding for the time without having to use his hands. Quite frankly, he looked as stupid as he was exhausted. His hair was messed up. His clean dress shirt was rolled up to his elbows, and his tie was undone, hanging limply around his neck and shoulders.

He said your name, and you snapped to attention. He was still smiling and looking at the paper.

"Beautiful name," he murmured. "Too bad it's the only thing I can read on this piece of paper."

"It's not that bad!" You scoffed, taking offense.

"I beg your pardon?" He chortled, then held out the clipboard. He pointed to what looked like a sentence. It was more of just a blob where you had pressed down on the pen too hard. "What does that say?"

You were silent.

"Can't tell, can you?" He said, his eyebrows raised and the twinkle in his eye agitating you beyond belief. "Neither can I, and I'm sure Inspector Barnes won't be able to decipher this hodgepodge, either. So, let's start over."

He takes the paper you had spent thirty minutes on off the clipboard and crumples it in his hand. There's a fresh, new page beneath it. He then turns to you, grinning.

"Anthony Lockwood, professional scribe and interpreter at your service," he feigned a salute in an attempt to make you smile. Begrudgingly, you let him have that small win. He sat up straight and pretended to push up an imaginary pair of glasses on his nose. He spoke in a hoity-toity voice, like a stuck-up therapist. "What kind of visitor did you have this evening, ma'am?"

To be completely frank, it was hard to resist smiling. He was trying to cheer you up, and, admittedly, it was working.

"Poltergeist," you muttered, hunched over and looking at the floor. He scribbled on the paper.

"And is that what hurt your arm, or is the cast and sling merely a fashion statement?"

You shot him a look. He was still smiling, and he looked at you through long eyelashes. He looked like a dopey, single-tusked walrus with the way his tissue had been so stuffed up his nostril. You looked away again. If you looked at him any longer, your smile would break free. You then felt him gently touch the cast. His fingers merely grazed it. When you looked at him again, his eyes were still on yours, as if he knew you'd look again.

"How'd it happen?" He spoke oh so softly once more.

You sighed.

"It was a situation at the bank on Baker Street. A team had gone in and done away with one visitor and called DEPRAC to come help with the rest and disposal. I show up and go in by myself. The place didn't feel right to begin with, even with the visitor eliminated by a team of agents. I started scattering salt, and all of a sudden..." When you spoke, you used your good hand to help visualize. "A safe just launched out from the wall and pinned my arm there. I was lucky it was just that, but I'm going to be stuck in this cast for a while."

Anthony nodded along and rubbed his chin.

"Are you a sensitive?" He asked and started scribbling on the page again.

You nodded. "They employed me here at Scotland Yard to go on cases and provide extra security to our adult team."

He slowly set the pen down. "I bet working here is such a drag," he said rather slowly.

"Excuse me?"

"I mean, what's the adventure in working for Scotland Yard. You must have amazing skill for them to employ you. You could be an agent, I'm sure..." He casually started to tap the pen against the clipboard. "And, you know, I've been looking for a sensitive in my agency. I'd be happy to interview you."

You scoffed and smiled. "I'm good. Thanks for the offer."

"Oh, come on," he half-whined. "What do they have here that I haven't?

"Free room and board, all on top of good pay."

He was instantly stumped.

"Ah," he swallowed, looking away and slumping back against the bench. "I see."

He wrote a little more on the paper and then cleared his throat. He set the clipboard down but still held the pen intently. He looked at your cast then up at you.

"May I?"

You thought about it for a moment. Again, you decided to let him have this small win.

He helped you gently remove your arm from the sling and rested it on his lap while he signed your cast. He had the faintest smile on his face, and his eyes were so focused on writing as neatly as he could. When he was finished, he put the pen on the clipboard. You looked down to see what he had written. It was a phone number and his name. You wanted to scoff again but held it back. Inspector Barnes had just stepped out of his office and pointed at Lockwood before eyeing you.

"He troubling you?" The Inspector asked.

"Not at all," you muttered back, putting your cast back in the sling. "He helped me finish my paperwork."

Barnes hummed, and Anthony stood.

"Take that bloody tissue out of your nose, Lockwood," Barnes muttered. Lockwood was fast to cooperate. "Follow me."

Barnes disappeared into his office again. Anthony looked back at you. His gaze was soft and his smile softer.

"Stay out of trouble and away from haunted banks, won't you?" He beamed. "I'd quite like to meet again."

"Lockwood!" Barnes barked from his office and made you both jump before you could respond.

"You better go," you murmured. "He often gets quiet cranky when four o'clock hits."

You watched his chest rise and fall with a deep breath.

"Noted," he murmured back. He gazed at you for a heartbeat longer, then turned and disappeared into Barnes's office.

You and Lockwood became good friends over the following months. You would see him on many cases and occasionally went out to lunch or breakfast with him and his associate, George Karim. He would make excuses to come to Scotland Yard to see you if he wasn't on a case. If he was on a case, or if he was pulled to the building by Barnes, he would go out of his way to find you and see you while he was there. You came over to Portland Row, his agency, more often than not. Sometimes, you'd even spend the night because you'd stay after supper for a cup of tea and get to talking into the late hours of the night. He's told you many things. He's told you about his sister. He's told you about his parents. George had even noticed that you'd become more trusted by Lockwood than he was.

What locked and sealed your bond was when he showed you the family graveyard, where his parents and sister had been buried. It was something even George knew nothing about.

An incredibly close companionship started there. When Barnes noticed, he warned you about the trouble that came with Anthony Lockwood, but you didn't listen, and that is what became your downfall.

"He throws caution into the wind at every chance," Barnes scolded you after you turned up late one evening after spending the night at Portland Row. "You'll get yourself killed."

Again, you refused to listen to his harping.

It was one winter, a year after you'd first met Lockwood, the last year you'd laid eyes on him, when cases spiked all over London. The London Underground had suddenly been infested with clusters of visitors. Many agents had already died by the time you had been brought in. You were assigned as a monitor/supervisor. The rest of Scotland Yard's supervisors were all scared shitless to go anywhere near the Tube, so they sent you instead, since you still had Talent.

Three teams from three different agencies were brought in that night. Fittes, Rotwell, and last, but not least, A.J. Lockwood and Company. That last one made you giddy and nervous all at once.

The clock had struck ten, and all the teams were gathered around in the station in little pockets of groups. Lockwood had a friendly arm wrapped around your shoulder, regaling you and George on a story. George couldn't have been less interested. He rolled his eyes and shoved his hands in his pockets. You, on the other hand, were enthralled. It had been days since you'd last seen him, then. Just having him close to you was a great pleasure.

It was a quarter until eleven when you all decided to start moving deeper into the underground. One of the sensitives from Fittes claimed to have heard a scream echoing. You were too enraptured in Lockwood's words, so you hadn't really been alert enough to confirm what she had heard.

All three agencies, plus one (you), moved deeper into the tunnel. Each team took their own readings but continued to come up with nothing but rubbish. Lockwood stuck right by your side with one hand on his rapier and his other hovering just above your lower back.

"I missed you," he muttered into your ear. You grinned.

"You're just saying that, so I'll tell Barnes to up your pay," you joked.

"No, really," he said. His thumb ran a tender line down your spine, distracting you from the skittering noise that your ears had just picked up that came from down the tunnel. "You'd be surprised by just how hard it is to get you off my mind after I've seen you. I still wish you'd quit this lousy job and come be with me... Us, I mean." He corrected himself and cleared his throat when George looked his way.

"You know good and well that there's no room for me in that shoddy house," you chortle and mindlessly check your thermometer. You unconsciously register the slight temperature drop, the deeper you travel into the tunnel.

"There's plenty of room!" Scoffed Lockwood. "The attic is always available. Or, you know, you could always stay with me in mine." He wiggled his eyebrows at you. You elbowed him in response.

You all walked about half a mile into the tunnel when you heard something that the others didn't and stopped. Lockwood was the first to notice. You listened for a moment longer. Those who were also sensitive to sound started picking up what you were getting as well.

"Flashlights off," Lockwood ordered for you without you having to say anything at all.

You couldn't help but cringe when overhearing another agent mutter the words "kiss ass" beneath their breath. It wasn't the time to get snippy, though. Something was coming. You could hear it, but the fact that you couldn't see it unsettled you. The long and dark tunnel before you made your hastily grasp the handle of your rapier.

It was a very faint clicking and hissing sound at first. It wasn't until it got just the faintest hint louder that you realized what it was. The air itself seemed to start shaking, and the ground trembled beneath your feet.

"Everyone get to the side!" You screamed. Lockwood pulled you to him, then pressed the two of you flush against the wall of the tunnel, and all three teams divided unevenly on either side of the tracks. Not but a few seconds later, the air screamed past you and rattled everyone's equipment. The rush of a speeding train made everyone's ears pop, and the wail of the dead came with it. There was no visual. Just a foul smell and a sharp, piercing scream. It lasted for what seemed like an eternity, then abruptly stopped. The clicking and hissing and a faint whistle of a train died away.

"Ghost train," you grumbled. "Lovely."

Lockwood was the first to open his eyes. You were next. Your heart dropped.

One by one, visitors of all kinds started to morph out of thin air. Not a single one of them were recognizably human. The reimagined corpses were singed flesh in bone. You could actually smell the burning, and it made your eyes water.

"I read that there was a crash down here in 1980," said George suddenly, loud enough for everyone to hear as you all brought out your rapiers and salt bombs. "Fittes documents say that it's been taken care of... but I guess it wasn't taken care of well enough."

The Fittes agents had no time for witty retorts. More and more visitors started forming, and their sorrowful wailing was becoming too much to bear.

"Is it even possible for sources to reappear?" Lockwood mumbled.

"No clue. That, or Fittes didn't take care of it properly in the first place," you mumbled back. "I don't see anything that could be considered a source. There's no wreckage or bones or anything. Not even a stuffed animal. They probably just scattered salt and called it good..."

You looked down. The railroad tracks were rusted over and stained from ectoplasm burns. You had a feeling your theory was correct.

"There's too many," said one of the Rotwell agents.

"You all were assigned this job for a reason. You get it done, or you don't receive pay," you said. Later, you cursed yourself for this. You had spent too much time with Lockwood and started to pick up on his reckless habits. He still stood next to you as if personal space didn't matter.

You took a step forward, much to Lockwood's chagrin. The closest visitor, a tar-black skeleton with a dangling jaw and a few wisps of charred hair clinging to the dead scalp, raised its head and reared back. Orange fire engulfed it as it screamed and drew the rest of the visitors to attention. It charged, and you readied your rapier.

A salt bomb exploded behind you and sent your flying forward before you got the chance to swing. You missed the visitor by the meekest of scrapes. You scrambled to your feet. The sleeve of your coat steamed from the slightest touch of ectoplasm. A Rotwell agent was ghost locked, standing in the middle of the tracks. The visitor was still charging, now heading towards the agent on the tracks.

"Move!" Someone screamed, trying to get the agent's attention, but it was too late. Another Rotwell agent threw a bomb but sorely missed. The panic had turned the lot completely stupid. It exploded against the wall and blinded everyone in proximity, including you.

You covered your eyes for just a second. Your ears were ringing, and your vision was blurry when you looked again. There lied the Rotwell agent, flat on their back, jaw dropped and eyes a pure, milky white. Their body twitched and spasmed, then fell still.

Someone screamed. The rest of the visitors followed and started charging. You sat there and watched the body, feeling entirely numb, until someone grabbed your hand and pulled you free from the state of shock you were in. It was Lockwood, of course. He had his rapier drawn and protected you with his life, swinging at visitors with the passion and excellence you were so used to.

Fittes agents joined him in his fight and held their magnesium flares high, but the visitors were fast to reform, and there were too many to look for a mass source.

Out of bombs, flares, and steaming with ectoplasm, you all had retreated. The visitors still screamed in their agony. Lockwood, ever the gentleman, still held your hand and held it tight. He didn't let go until you were back at the station.

Everything passed like a blur. The Ghost-Touched Rotwell agent had been left on the tracks. The team would go and retrieve the body in the morning when it was safe.

DEPRAC was called and brought in. Inspector Barnes came to you first, and it wasn't a pretty sight. He went rumbling right past everyone else, straight to you. Lockwood had been consoling you before he'd seen Barnes, and the color left his already pale face. Barnes screamed at you for your reckless abandon. The fact that a Rotwell agent had been killed only made it that much worse.

Lockwood tried to interject, but Barnes quickly had him pushed away.

"You were supposed to supervise!"

"I was! It's just that--"

"There are no excuses. You had one job, and you blew it. Now we have another dead agent, and another mountain of paperwork to fill out before this section can be cleared!" Barnes didn't want excuses. When he looked at you, you crumpled. Your self-worth lowered with every searing second.

"She was doing her job, Inspector," Lockwood came back and cut in again. He tried to get close to you, but Barnes quickly cut him off.

"You," Barnes seethed. "If it hadn't been for you, she would have been fine."

"Don't blame this on him!" You interjected. "He didn't do anything!"

"He did plenty," barked Barnes. "He's been distracting you and knocking you off course for the past few months. And I speculate that he's been doing it on purpose, too." He switched and looked to Lockwood. Lockwood had a sudden stillness about him. He was stiff and quiet, neither denying nor agreeing with Barnes's statement. Barnes's eyes narrowed.

"You've been trying to get me to fire her, haven't you, you little shit?"

Barnes using such foul was virtually unheard of to you. You wanted to get Barnes to stop, but once he was going, there was no stopping him.

"Just so you could add her to your own grubby crew, huh? Is that what you want?"

"I have to say, it's been quite tempting," Lockwood said very quietly. He still did not move. "She's quite an agent, sir. And I believe she deserves to be with us, rather than waste her time in a place like Scotland Yard."

Barnes's eyes went wide with anger and shock. Without turning to look at you, he spoke to you.

"I'm transferring you to the Liverpool sector."

"What? You can't just--"

"Yes, I can," said Barnes. His word was final. "Until you can get whatever this little twat has done to you out of your head, you will be working with the DEPRAC stationed in Liverpool. End. Of. Discussion."

You stood there, frozen. It felt like your world just shattered into a million and one pieces. Lockwood was calling your name, but it all seemed like an echo. You felt warm hands on your cheeks. Your vision came back into focus. Lockwood had his forehead pressed against yours, getting your attention so abruptly.

"He doesn't mean it. He couldn't possibly," he muttered relentlessly. You said nothing because his words weren't registering in your mind, and the tears stung your eyes.

If there was anything you had learned about Barnes over the years you worked with him, it is that he never went back on his word.

"It's over, Anthony," you muttered and squeezed your eyes shut.

"What?" He whispered, brushing back your hair. You could feel his breath fanning your face. "No, no. You can't be serious. He's not serious at all. You are NOT leaving. That's not how this is going to go. That's not right."

"You can't decide how the world works," you said. You reached up and placed your hands over his, slowly getting him to lower them. "If that were true, all this wouldn't be happening in the first place."

You opened your eyes again and wanted to do nothing but start crying. His big, brown eyes searched yours so desperately. Every time you tried to lean back, he'd chase after you and keep you right up against him.

"Don't go," he whispered.

"I don't think I have a choice."

"I need you here," he wrapped his arms around your waist. "I need you to stay with me. Stay forever."

"Lockwood, I--"

"Please..." He buried his face into your shoulder and held you tighter. "I can't lose you. I need to be around you. I swear, I'll go crazy if I can't see you."

His hands shot up to hold your face in his hands again. His thumbs gently brushed over your cheeks, and his lips seemed impossibly close to yours. Too close. You had to break free. If he got any closer, you knew you'd quit your job just to stay with him. Stay there in London. God, the longer it repeated in your head, the more irresistible it seemed to be. He was driving you crazy.

"I have to go," you whispered.

"I won't let you."

"You have to."

"I don't, and you know it."

He kept getting closer, and he spoke more breathily. His lips barely touched yours. They ghosted, then finally pushed fully against yours. His lips were soft and sweet. His kiss wasn't demanding. It was full of something you've never felt before, on top of need and desperation. You had to yank yourself away because you could feel yourself slipping. You actually had to shove him because every time you tried to peel yourself away, he would follow and keep you with him.

He stumbled, and his hands fell to his sides. His cheeks were pink, and his eyes were wide and wild. His lips still moved like a fish out of water, gasping for air. His shoulders, heavy with the burden of running an agency and the guilt brought on by past, rose and fell with heavy breaths. You just stared at him, unable to define whether he was an image of beauty or longing.

You then turned away before he could speak again and call you back like a siren. You had to cover your ears. Even as you rushed out of the station, you could hear him calling your name.

Years had passed since then. You hadn't seen Lockwood since the morning he escorted you to the train station. Even then, that was filled with silence and his longing glances. Getting on the train was the hardest part. He would have followed you up the stairs if the conductor hadn't stopped him.

For months, you exchanged letters with him until he stopped replying. It made your heart ache. You waited weeks for a reply, but it never came. You gave up on waiting after a year. Barnes also checked in with you and constantly made sure you kept busy. You wanted to thank him for it. You managed to forget all about sometimes, thanks to the shit-ton of work he had provided you.

On your spare time, you would buy copies of The Times. More often than not, you'd find Lockwood somewhere inside. Pictures of him from yet another successful case. Then, there was suddenly the mention of another girl that had joined his team. A sensitive by the name of Lucy Carlyle. True, your jealousy festered and bubbled, but you didn't let it explode. Instead, you stopped buying copies of The Times and focused on your work.

Well, that all lasted until news of the death of Penelope Fittes and the collapse of the Fittes agency altogether came into light. And Lockwood was at the center of it all.

You'd never bought a train ticket so fast.

You swept off the last traces of dirt from your clothes and pocketed your gloves, since they were dirty as well.

On the train ride, you'd read all about Lockwood's excursions. You'd read how many times he's been shot and stabbed. It made you sick to your stomach, just how much this boy had gone out of his way to get himself killed.

And now here you were, just outside of Portland Row, about to face him for the first time in years. It was obvious from each tabloid you'd read that someone needed to put him in place. If Barnes, George, or this Lucy Carlyle girl wasn't going to do it, then you would.

The first knock on the door sends an electric bolt right down your spine. There was once a time, you remember, when knocking wasn't even necessary when you came to Portland Row.

A dark skinned girl in a navy pinafore dress answers the door. You're a little taken aback, but if that shows on your face, the girl doesn't express it.

"Do you have an appointment?" The girl asked curtly.

"I need to speak with Anthony Lockwood."

"Many people want to speak with him, but with the recent collapse of the Kingdom's biggest agencies, he is kept occupied. Please, make an appointment and come back then," she moves to close the door, but a hand that isn't yours stops it. A familiar face is at once at the door, and it puts you at ease.

George replaces the girl in the door. He gives you one look, then moves to clean his glasses on his shirt. Once he fixes them back on his face, he motions for you to come inside, and you enter Portland Row in a split second.

While the girl closes the door after you've come in, you are met with an unexpected and grappling hug from George Karim himself. It sends you into a shock. You give him an awkward hug back, so unsure of what all that was for.

"Thank you for coming back," George mutters. He fixes his glasses once he pulls away from you. "I'd given up all hope of your return months ago, and I'm sorry for being so straightforward, but..." His eyes flicker from side to side. "Now that you're here, I can't help but think that Lockwood might go back to normal."

"Back to normal?" You scoff quietly. "He was always reckless, but from what I've read, he's way past that. He's suicidal!"

"He's mopey and hung up, is what he is. And I've only known him for a few months at best," the girl suddenly mutters. Her arms were folded.

"That's Holly, by the way," mutters George. "She's... our assistant. And you haven't met Lucy yet. I think you might like her. She almost got Lockwood out of his spunk, but not quite."

He shuffles around on his feet for a moment.

"He's out with Lucy right now, by the way. Got called for another interview. I don't know when they'll be back..."

You take time to look around the home. It's changed so much. What catches your eye most is the door on the landing. It is wide open. The house no longer smells of burnt toast but of fresh paint and new carpet. Everything smells new. There was no death glow beaming down the stairs. There is nothing. Just an empty room where the paint continues to dry.

"Where's Jess?" You whisper, and George joins you in looking up the stairs at the swinging door.

"He's managed to move on from some things," mumbles George. He fixes his glasses. "Just some things, though."

George then turns and goes into the kitchen. You and Holly follow. George starts the kettle and takes a seat at the kitchen, as do you and Holly.

"How's Liverpool? Last time I heard from you, you said it was quite drab," asks George, trying to make some nice conversation.

"It still is," you chortle and poke at the new thinking cloth on the table. It made you sad. Out of all the things you thought would remain the same, you didn't think the thinking cloth would be an item to go. "It's not as bad as London is, most of the time..." Your thumb rubs over an ink blob that contains Lockwood's handwriting. You stared at the same handwriting on all the letters he sent you for months, and for many more, you wished you could see more of it.

You and George continue to speak quietly. You learned more about Holly as she started warming up to you, too. George fixed your tea, making it just the way you liked it. It touches you that he remembered.

You try not to focus on the time and instead hone in on the conversation at hand. Before you knew it, it started getting late. Really late.

You glance at the clock on the stove. It reads 7:45 PM. When you look, so does George and Holly. The room falls silent.

"You could... spend the night. I know Lockwood won't mind," says George.

Suddenly, you all shift. The front door unlocks and swings open. Three voices enter the house. You all stand. First George, then Holly, then you.

"I'm fine, I told you. Don't touch me! Let me go!"

You recognize that voice all too well.

"Lucy, do you think you can get him upstairs?"

"I don't think so. He's too heavy."

"Lemme go, you bloody idiots," Lockwood grumbles. There was rumbling, and things were knocked over. A glass breaks. "Ach, bloody hell... who the fuck put that there?"

"Aaaand there he goes," one of the voices you didn't recognize sighs. George steps into the hall, and so does Holly. It was too crowded to see much.

"What happened?" Mutters George.

"He got asked a question that was a little too sensitive. Took it too hard and got something to drink because of it. A little too much to drink," says a female voice. "I asked Quill to help me get him home. He kept smacking me away every time I tried to take away the bottle of whiskey away from him."

You step into the hall, finally. Heads raise.

"Who's she?"

The heads turn. You recognize Quill Kipps, an agent who also frequented the pages of The Times. You also recognize Lucy Carlyle. You look down. Long legs in dress pants are slipping and sliding on the tile floors, trying to stand. You look away, back up at the eyes staring at you with curiosity.

"Hi," you murmur and introduce yourself. "Pleasure to meet you all."

"Who the hell..." More things rattle. Your heart races as you watch him stand. He swipes his hair back, eyes closed, and a cocky, drunk smile on his face. His eyes open slowly, and they then focus on you and stop. His smile wavers.

"Here we go," mutters George.

Your eyes burn with tears, and you stand straight as he stumbles slowly forward. He shoves Kipps and George out of the way when they try to steady him. Nothing stops him from reaching you.

Lockwood's long arms wrap around your waist, and his nose buries into the crook of your neck. You feel him breathing you in and starting to melt against you. It's all silent. He starts to shake, and you hold him to you, afraid he might fall and actually hurt himself.

"I missed you so much, my sweet girl..." He whispers. His breath is hot and shaky against your skin. You feel hot wet tears streak along your skin as he nuzzles himself deeper.

You put your hands on his shoulders and try to push him away so you can see his face. He allows only that. His brown eyes search yours. His pupils are blown, and his pink lips are slightly agape. He goes to push his forehead against yours. His lips are so close to yours again. You can smell the whiskey on his breath.

"I waited for you for so long," he whispers and leans in.

Before he can get too close, your instincts kick in.

You smack him across the face so hard his body tilts to the side. The sound echos through the hall. He stumbles again and has to put his hand on the wall to catch himself. He raises his hand to touch his stinging cheek. It's bright red, and he immediately flinches as soon as his hand comes into the slightest contact with it.

George suddenly grabs Lucy's sleeve and starts dragging her away. Kipps and Holly follow as well, a little too quickly. You and Lockwood are then alone.

"That wasn't very nice..." mutters Lockwood, pouting like a petulant baby as he puts himself back together.

"I hoped it wasn't," you mutter, wiping the tears from your face. "Maybe it'll fucking sober you up so I can finally tell you what a piece of shit you are and have the chance you'll listen to me for once."

He actually chuckles and leans his back against the wall. He rubs his cheek and looks at you, as if he still can't believe you're here. He's smiling, and the tears are still present in his eyes. You stand there, unable to look at him and rocking on your heels. You keep rubbing away the tears, then fold your arms, trying to quiet your sniffling.

"The fuck is your problem, Anthony?" You hiss again.

"Don't believe I've got one, sweet girl," he chuckles again, tilting his head and taking his hand off his smarting cheek. "But we could make one. Me aaaand you. In my beeeed."

He slowly tilts himself forward and stands up straight. He glides across the hall in one long step. You're tempted to slap him again. Instead, you just shoulder-check him and head straight to the door. You shrug on your coat and open the front door.

"I've got something to show you," you say to him and point to the road outside. "So get your sorry ass out of the house, and you better sober up a little before I smack you again and make you."

Lockwood looks at you, his lips pursed. He wipes his mouth and blows a raspberry. He looks at the ground, rubbing his shoe on the new entrance rug.

"Whatever you want, sweet girl. You know I'd die for you."

"Aha, I think I know where you're taking me!" Lockwood beams and grunts as he pulls himself up over the ledge of the small graveyard. He drops down and dusts himself off. He still has that dorky, drunk smile on his face as he looks up at you, and he puts his hands in his pockets. You have to turn away and walk deeper into the tiny cemetery, shuffling through knee-high grass and over abandoned tombstones.

"You know, if you wanted me to cry out all the booze I drank, you could have just hugged me back when we were at the house," he chortles, but once he came upon his family's graves, he stops. There is a freshly dug grave sitting right next to his sister's. The shovel is sticking up from the mound of dirt beside it. His smile drops as soon as he sees this. You see it, and as soon as he sees you see it, it pops right back up like nothing has changed.

"What is all this? Certainly not the... homecoming gift I was hoping for..." He says, breath lost and choked up. He rubs the back of his neck and clears his throat.

You walk right up to the head of the empty grave and point at it.

"Get in," you say.

"Pardon?" He stutters.

"Get," you point again, "in."

"Why?"

"Well, you've obviously had a death wish since I've left. You made England's biggest agency collapse and nearly died doing that, too. You've been shot and stabbed I don't know how many times, and it's driving me insane that you keep doing this. You keep getting hurt, and it's not by ghosts. You're getting yourself into shit that I don't know about and I'm so afraid that, one day, I'll pick up a fucking paper and your obituary is going to be the first thing I see," you tried to keep yourself from yelling. "So you wanna die so fucking bad!? Then die then! Get in the grave and see what it's like! Show me what I came all the way from fucking Liverpool to see!"

He just stares at you, almost in disbelief.

"This is a nice joke," he laughs. He raises his hands and beams. "You got me! I'm sober! I'm good!"

"I'm not joking."

You storm back around the grave to face him.

"Get in the grave, Lockwood."

He scoffs and laughs. His eyes roll and he shoves his hands in his pockets again. His tongue clicks and he leans forward, getting face to face with you.

"No."

Oh. His smile makes you want to slap him twice as hard. You purse your lips, and your jaw ticks from side to side. Upon your silence, his smile keeps growing.

"This was nice, but now it's time to go back home and get something to eat--"

You grab him by his collar and shove him toward the foot of the grave. He spins, his arms flailing wildly to try to catch his balance. He gets his footing, just as his heels teeter right at the very edge. His arms still whirl around like windmills. His look of panic transforms into flushed embarrassment. He smiles again. God, that smile.

You pick up a rock and chuck it at him. Unfortunately, that's the one thing to send him over the edge.

Your eyes go wide as he yells out and comically falls backward into the grave. You heard him land with an 'oof' and loud thud.

You run up to the edge, get on your knees, and look down. You are worried at first, but slowly feel that worry ebb away.

He is lying on his back, legs up in the air. His navy blue socks, covered in a sailboat pattern, are now covered in dirt and dust. You huff and glare at him as his legs fell to the ground. Another cloud of dust plumes at his theatrics. He coughs a little bit, trying to catch his breath after the fall. You watch him take a deep breath and huff.

"Did it hurt?" You ask.

"When I fell from heaven? Not really, but I scraped my knee pretty bad crawling my way out of hell--"

You throw another rock, and it pings right off his chest. He yelps and croons. He curls himself into a little ball, as if that will shield him from being pelted further by rocks.

"Okay! Okay, I get it. No jokes. All serious," he let's out another deep breath but remains in his protective ball formation. "Yes. It hurt quite a bit."

"Good. And you deserved it too, since your the biggest twat I've met on this side of the world."

"You've met other twats like me?" He teases.

"Sure. Never as big as you, though."

You sit there in silence for some time. There are so many questions running through your brain, but your mouth runs dry, and you don't want to ask any of them. You force yourself, though. If you were going back to Liverpool the next morning, you'd be going back with long awaited answers.

"Why did you stop writing back to me?" You ask.

He sighs. He doesn't respond. You clump up a wad of dirt in your palms and throw it at him.

"Hey, will you cut that out!?" He barks, looking up at you. You throw another wad of dirt and hit him square in the face. It knocks him back onto his back. He's spluttering and snarling at the same time.

"Are you gonna answer my God damn questions? Or am I going to have to keep throwing dirt at you? I could do either, honestly. Seeing you look this pathetic makes me feel powerful."

"Oh? Does my misery turn you on?" He mutters, wiping dirt from his cheek.

"Shut up and answer me."

He sits up and tries to shrug off the rest of the dirt on him. He clicks his tongue and leans his back against the wall of the grave.

"Barnes found out I was contacting you," he says softly. "And told me to quit."

"And you listened?" You scoff.

"Not initially, no," he says in defense. "But I had to, eventually. One day, he just showed up at our doorstep and told me if I sent one more letter, I'd be fined."

"That sounds like bullshit," you say, folding your arms. You take a seat at the edge of the grave and let your legs dangle.

"I thought so too," he laughs, "until he hand delivered me a blue slip saying I owed one hundred pounds for an obstruction of privacy between a privately employed agent, and an employed agent of federal law. I still thought it sounded like absolute rubbish and sent another, but in came just another fine. Then, I was two hundred pounds in debt. I actually just got that paid off, by the way. There was a time when I tried to send another, but George nearly lost his marbles when I attempted it. Another hundred added to our debt was the last thing he wanted. That bloody bastard wrestled the envelope from my hands. He's actually much stronger than what he lets on."

You smile. The thought of George actually initiating physical contact with Lockwood amused you. You look up at the setting sun. The sky is a beautiful salmon and orange color. You sigh.

"So when you stopped talking to me, it wasn't intentional?"

"Of course it wasn't," chortles Lockwood. "You're my favorite person in the entire world. God would smite me before I'd ever purposely give up on talking to you. And I'd been planning on sneaking away to Liverpool for a holiday, but... well, I've had quite a few pairs of eyes on me for some time now. I didn't want to bring the danger to your front door."

"Anthony, your trouble in a man-shaped package. There's always some danger lurking in your corner," you laugh and he laughs too.

The silence is more comfortable now. Less tense, now that some weight has been released.

"I really did miss you," he then whispers. You almost strain to hear him. "I tried so hard to find someone to fill the gap you left, but I... it was impossible. There's no one like you out there in this world. No one as special. No one I could love as much as I do you."

Your heart stopped.

"You love me?" You whisper.

"I'm crazy about you. Of course I love you. Ever since I met you in Scotland Yard and I signed your cast," he smiles fondly at the memory. "I know that was probably at my least attractive point then, with a bloody tissue shoved so high up my nostril, it tickled my brain, but I just knew there was something about you. And when you first called, my heart was going so fast. You can ask George about it when we get home. He'll tell you all about how I nearly collapsed at the sound of your voice."

You laugh again, and it's like the sweetest song he's ever heard. He'll do anything for that sound. He'll do anything for you, alone.

"I saved all your letters," he says. "I have your picture by my bedside. I dream about having you by my side, every single night."

"Now you're just starting to sound cheesy," you scoff and smile. He keeps smiling right back up at you. That million giga-watt smile. He had your heart in a steadfast hold, and you knew it.

"Cheesy is my middle name," Lockwood hums. He picks himself off the ground and stands up. His hair is riddled with dirt, and his white shirt is stained brown in many spots. He watches curiously as you hop down into the grave. You teeter and struggle to land on your feet, but he's there to save you, like he always is.

His arm wraps around your waist and pulls you close to him, preventing your fall. His free hand cups your cheek and brushes away a small tendril of hair.

"So now you know my story," he beams. "I get to ask a question now. So, I missed you. That much is obvious. But... did you miss me back?"

You stood there, looking at his smile, feeling the way his thumb traced your spine just how you remember and ogling him. Not too long ago, you thought you'd never see him again. You're so glad that you were wrong then.

You lean up and kiss him. He's fast to kiss back. You don't push him away this time.

He lets you breathe once you both are satisfied and breathing hard. He looks right into your eyes.

"Grant a crazy man one wish?" He murmurs, eyes sparkling and rejuvenated. This was the return of the Anthony you knew. "Stay forever. Here. With me."

"Crazy man doesn't mean reckless or suicidal man, does it?" You giggle.

"I will fight to the very last inch of my life if it means I get to come home to you again," he whispers.

"Then you've got yourself a deal."

#anthony lockwood #anthony lockwood and you #anthony lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood/reader #anthony lockwood/you #george karim #lockwood and co #lockwood netflix #lucy carlyle #i love them

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juyeonszn · 8 months

Text

WHAT IS LOVE? — ELEVEN

PAIRING ₊˚⊹ lee juyeon x f!reader

SUMMARY ₊˚⊹ all is well in the business of matchmaking. except it’s actually not, because lee juyeon, the school’s star baseball player, has just come to you for help in obtaining the girl of his dreams. oh yeah! and he happens to be the guy you’ve had a crush on since your first year of university.

MORE ₊˚⊹ i remember when i was writing this i was like ..woah bc i didn’t expect it to be so angsty 😭 like idk what is up with me and the angst train lately

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ELEVEN — Just Like A Doughnut (2.04k)

The next few days pass by in a flash and before you know it, it’s Wednesday.

Part of you really missed the whole matchmaking thing and listening to people explain why they wanted you to set them up with whoever it was they wanted you to, after all, that was the whole reason you started the club. You’d been a hopeless romantic for as long as you could remember. There were times in your childhood where you had these elaborate meet-cute backstories for your stuffed animals. You’d even go as far as planning fleshed out weddings for the Barbie and Ken dolls your mom had gotten you for Christmas when you turned 8.

Throughout grade school, you had this big dream of being a wedding planner, too. You wanted to help people put together their best day ever— the day they’d recall for the rest of their lives. Helping women channel their inner child was the portion you were most excited for. It would be like letting yourself have the chance to give back to the little girl who threw extravagant celebrations of love for her inanimate toys.

But, alas, you had to grow up from that idea eventually. As you got closer to starting university, you knew there wasn’t much you could do as a wedding planner. There wasn’t anywhere for you to go. The pay was mediocre for such a stressful and demanding job, so why would you make yourself hate something you felt so passionately about when you could do something else that made you just as happy?

That was when you decided to study psychology. It was a basic enough major that you didn’t have to choose an exact career yet, but also generalized enough that narrowing it down wouldn’t be too hard when the time came. Getting to know how people’s minds worked was exciting. Then the idea for Love Loop saved you in a way. It brought together this new territory with that old passion of yours. That was why you’ve been trying to reconnect with the club so much recently. You didn’t want to forget your roots and become out of touch with your beginnings.

As you’re finishing up with your 2PM appointment, your phone begins to ring from its spot on your desk. A quick check of the caller ID lets you know that Minho was calling, which was a bit unusual for the time of day. Once your ‘client’ has left your little cubicle area, you plop back onto your rolling chair, spinning around as you accept the call from your friend.

“Hello?”

“Hey, so I remember you saying you had a break between your last two appointments and I figured you hadn’t had lunch yet. Is it cool if I drop by and leave you some jajangmyeon? Seonghwa and I are leaving the restaurant now.” He says, and as if on cue, you hear Seonghwa’s voice in the background.

“That would be amazing actually! Thank you, Min. Is there by any chance enough for me to share with Kkura?” You slow your chair to a halt, nibbling the inside of your cheek.

“I think so. We ordered you a pretty big portion.”

“You’re a lifesaver really, I owe you one.” You sigh dramatically.

Minho laughs into the receiver. “I’ll hold you to it.”

The two of you say your goodbyes and then you’re strolling over to Sakura’s cubicle to inform her of the good news. This was just what you needed to power through that last appointment of the day, the mysterious and anonymous person who requested you specifically.

You had to admit, you were a little nervous. Of course, you understood that they probably wanted to protect their privacy just a bit longer before the entire club found out about them. However, you were also slightly afraid that this person was not interested in the club’s purpose at all and they just wanted to harass you. You could never be too sure or too careful! There’s a lot of weirdos out there.

But no matter what, you chose to stick by your mindset of giving people the benefit of the doubt. Even now, you felt like they just wanted to stay concealed a smidge more than the average Love Loop client. The ball of nerves in the pit of your stomach was the product of something else you couldn’t quite place your finger on.

It was like when you had a gut feeling about something. Except, you didn’t know what your stomach was trying to tell you. It felt foreboding in a way, almost like a warning— but not necessarily a bad one. Things were going to get interesting to say the least, that was one thing you could settle on.

Sakura and yourself had migrated back to your own space by the time Minho arrived with the food. He told you that Seonghwa had headed back to their apartment for his afternoon nap, which was why he wasn’t present. It was so Seonghwa-coded to leave the entire delivery to Minho.

“Thank you again for the food, Min!” You smile, watching as the brunette’s hand comes up to cup the back of his neck. He shrugs as if the action was no big deal, when in actuality the simple gesture made your day.

“Of course. Don’t sweat it,” Minho says, saluting to you with his index and middle fingers. “And don’t work too hard, okay? I’ll see you later.”

You wave to him as he exits your cubicle and seemingly heads to his shared apartment with Seonghwa. Without hesitation, you begin unpacking the takeout bag to eat with Sakura as quickly as possible, realizing you only had around 15 minutes before your last appointment arrived. You notice silence coming from your friend even after you’ve opened the container of jajangmyeon and handed her a pair of chopsticks.

“What?” You raise an eyebrow.

“Nothing,” she giggles while simultaneously slurping up some of the noodles. “I just don’t think any of my friends would go out of their way to bring me lunch. Or even remember when I had a break in my day.”

“What are you insinuating, Kkura?”

“That’s up for your interpretation.” She answers through a mouthful of food. You decide to leave it as that and not pry any further, lest you gain a headache before your final client of the day. As much as you loved Sakura (especially because she was one of the few club members you actually hung out with), she could be a royal pain in the ass when she wanted to be. Therefore, leaving things unsaid was your best option.

The two of you tear through the jajangmyeon like a tornado through a farm, leaving hardly anything except a couple stray vegetables by the time 2:45 rolls around. The ravenette tips her imaginary hat in salutation to you as she returns to her own cubicle. (She more likely went to another one of the club members’ since they all had collectively agreed to spy on your appointment. They desperately wanted to find out who this anonymous client was.)

It was 2:47 when they finally arrived at the Love Loop headquarters, knocking on the wall of your cubicle to alert you of their presence. When you glance up from the sheet of paper you were preparing for notes during the appointment, you nearly fall out of your chair onto your ass.

Low and behold, standing at the entryway of your cubicle, is Lee Juyeon. It feels as if all the muscles in your face have gone slack and your jaw has dropped to the floor much like you almost did. He looks a bit nervous, running a hand through his hair as he waits for your invitation in. Your heart stutters in your chest at the sight.

It takes him clearing his throat for you to gather your bearings. “O-oh! Right, c-come in!”

He bows slightly before assuming the seat across from you at your desk. You can tell this is something completely out of his comfort zone, if the whole anonymous thing didn’t already give it away. And then as you begin writing his name at the top of the paper in front of you, the situation clicks in your brain.

Lee Juyeon wanted your help to get with someone.

And if that person was you, he obviously wouldn’t be here right now. So then the reality of it all hits you like a train of bricks— hard, fast, and painful. Just a few minutes ago, you were content with how your day was going. You enjoyed some good food with good company brought to you by one of your closest friends. You thought this would be a nice, uneventful day. But, it appears you jinxed your own fortune. It was silly of you to even think you stood a chance.

You swallow the lump of your throat and elicit yourself to speak up. “S-so, Juyeon—” God, that hurt to say. “What brings y-you in?”

Juyeon relaxes in his seat, pursing his lips. “To be 100% with you, I’m not too sure. There’s this whole stigma surrounding me that I could have any girl I wanted, right? Star pitcher for SNU, grades that aren’t the worst, every guy wants to be me and every girl wants me. Why am I here if that’s true?”

He could have any girl he wanted. He could have you in a second if he asked. So, why was he here?

“Um— I-I don’t know. Why do you think so?”

“I think it’s probably because I don’t feel worthy of her. I feel like she deserves better than someone like me. And I never know how to approach her without coming off as an entitled jerk either. I’ve just been admiring her from afar for a while and everything sort of boiled over when I realized we aren’t getting any younger, you know? I think it’s time I made my move.” Juyeon explains, twiddling his fingers in his lap.

Whoever this girl is, must be something special since he talks so highly of her, you conclude. Each syllable of each word chips at your heart, eventually driving a wedge right through those cracks and shattering it entirely. You write a summarized version of his confession down with a shaky hand, willing away the tears threatening to pour from your eyes. You see this as the opportunity to distract yourself for a second, to recalibrate your systems and get back on track before you crumble right in this chair.

When you started Love Loop, the possibility of having to assist your crush in asking out the girl of his dreams was never something you considered. In fact, you never thought about your crush at all during the process. The reason the club came to fruition was because of your desire to bring people together in the name of love.

Lee Juyeon’s case was no different. Sitting across from you, dishing all of his deepest secrets and most vulnerable feelings about the girl he liked, was not the Lee Juyeon you were in love with. He was a client requesting your aid in his quest for love of his own. Who were you to stand in the way of that? Besides, if Juyeon was happy, then so were you. And that was what mattered the most, didn’t it?

“Who’s the lucky lady?” You pluck up the courage to ask, not only because you needed that information, but because you were curious.

“Chou Tzuyu. I’m in love with Chou Tzuyu.” He replies following a beat, staring out of the window catty-corner from him.

Oh.

Even after bandaging your heart as quickly as possible and picking yourself up to hold your head high, he unintentionally found a way to pull it apart once more and knock you back down. Through trembling lips and a dull ache deep inside of you, you force a smile. “I can’t wait to get you and Tzuyu together.”

You were lying, but he didn’t have to know that. In fact, he didn’t have to know anything at all. As long as he was happy at the end of the day, right? It was the client who came first.

PREV ₊˚⊹ TEN — ur on THIN ICE JAMAL

NEXT ₊˚⊹ TWELVE — need a comically large piano to fall on top of me

MASTERLIST

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TAGLIST ₊˚⊹ @matchaoreocrepes @maessseongs @tannieflix @winterchimez @kyusqult

#the boyz #the boyz smau #the boyz social media au #tbz #tbz smau #the boyz juyeon #tbz juyeon #lee juyeon x reader #lee juyeon smau #lee juyeon social media au #juyeon x reader #juyeon smau #juyeon social media au #juyeonszn #what.is.love.juyeon🩷

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fandoomrants · 2 months

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ohhh just saw ur rant post! i agree with like 99.99% of it and im excited and i just wanna point out that it's stated in canon that james would have considered it the height of dishonor to distrust his friends, so, canonically, we only know of sirius suspecting remus (although i've read fics where james also distrused remus and i adore the angst and the drama and the absolute tragedy of it)

to add to the dorm thing: there are only like 5 boys in gryffindor in harry's year. not just in his dorm, but the whole house (as stated in chambers of secrets), so there's a very real chance the marauders were the only 4 boys in their year in gryffindor

and also to back up another one of ur points: pottermore canon states that remus was the one to bring peter into the group ("Remus, always the underdog’s friend, was kind to short and rather slow Peter Pettigrew, a fellow Gryffindor, whom James and Sirius might not have thought worthy of their attention without Remus’s persuasion. Soon, these four became inseparable."). before that it also states that "Remus Lupin was swiftly befriended by two cheerful, confident and rebellious boys, James Potter and Sirius Black. They were attracted by Remus’s quiet sense of humour and a kindness that they valued, even if they did not always possess it themselves"

Half my posts are rants, it's literally in the name of my url 😅😅 But I know which one you mean.

Oh, yeah, you're actually right here. It was pretty much Sirius we know about but I somehow thing it must have been a little bit from the others too. Especially because of the fact that Remus had actively started distancing himself. Oh, just imagine if Peter was intentionally slipping comments about it or something just so he can fully take the suspicion from himself away. And then... In reality I think Remus was mostly doing it to just keep them safe.

I'm not 100% sure if it's ever mentioned that someone outside of the Marauders, later Snape, and Dumbledore knew he's a werewolf. Maybe the other teachers, or some of them, but I highly doubt anyone in the first Order knew. In fact, maybe Lily didn't know. And I mentioned in another post how I think that maybe he hasn't seen Harry as a baby and this makes me feel so sad because he probably wanted to stay away.

But I'm not so sure here, I have to admit it's been a while since I read the books.

I fall into some downwards spiral about angsty thoughts but I actually don't like reading such fics xD Honestly, in this fandom I can swear 80% of them are either some angst or Major Character Death warning... I can't. If I want that, I'll reread the parts from the book xD

Oh, okay, that's a good point! We really don't know if there weren't other boys there. I just think, all dorms were kind of for 5 people and idk, if there are 5 students, they all gonna be in one. If there are 10 or less, they'll be in two, etc. So I suppose here the question is how many boys were in this year. (Tbh, I never really understood the roommates thing xD I somehow can't imagine having to share a room with someone for years and not becoming friends. Sure, for example Harry and Ron were best friends but I believe they considered the other friends too, just not as close. How would you otherwise trust these people with stuff like... Not touching your personal things or like, killing you in your sleep. Stuff like that. Also, it's otherwise kinda awkward.)

Thanks for pointing this out! I wasn't completely sure about it but I thought it's so. Now just imagine how everything must have felt even more awful for Remus in the end. But aoso this whole roommate thing would make lots of sense as to why he befriended Peter in the first place and later they all became friends.

Thanks for the ask and the info!!

#hp #marauders era #marauders #james potter #sirius black #remus lupin #peter pettigrew

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noisyquokka · 6 months

Note

GIRL!! I just read your Lino fic and 🧎🏻‍♀️

I see your rqs are about to close so I was hoping maybe you could do a little sumthn sumthn angsty for my boy YangYang? I'd prefer F!reader and sumthn like you broke up and get kinda really jealous seeing him at a party with some girl and maybe you get back together maybe ya don't I'll leave that up to your creative mind? Could you also add Renjun and Xiaojun in as well, like a friend group type thing? I know this is a lot and maybe too detailed but like I NEED more angst from you plz and thank you 😩

Take care and stay hydrated 🤍

Scorched Auroras

PAIRING - YangYang x F!Reader (ft. Renjun & Xiaojun)

SYNOPSIS - You've had your regrets over the years, it's a part of the human experience. But nothing will ever compare to the pain of Him walking out of your life.

WORDCOUNT - 4.4k

WARNINGS - All around Angst, Cheating, Lies, Descriptions of Anxiety Attack, Heated Arguments, Exes to ???, Mentions of Alcohol, Reader wears feminine clothes (dress, heels, etc.), Renjun's kind of a dick in this... he's just trying to help, YangYang is also a dick but it's well-deserved || Let me know if I've missed anything!

A/N - The way I've been wanting to write more angst after that Minho fic, but I've just not gotten around to it... 😔 Thanks for the request, Darling! ngl I spent more time rereading this than I did writing this to the point that I have no idea if this is as good as I originally thought it was, (we love inconvenient writers block) so feedback would be greatly appreciated. And to all you YangYang girlies 👋🏻 I'm sorry for this.

“Huang Renjun, when I find your sorry ass…”

Your heels reverberate against the floors of the house, quick and staccato as you seek out the host of the party. This was supposed to be a chill little get together with mutual friends; all put together by Renjun. Same people. Same place. But when you walked through the front door, you’d been paralyzed.

Through the hall - between the mass of bodies that danced and conversed with each other - you had spotted Liu YangYang sitting pretty on the leather sofa, strumming away on his six-string. His eyes had found yours, and that genuine smile on his face had faded, his brows knitting as he blinked and looked away. He was surrounded by mutual friends, but you couldn’t take your eyes off the group of girls that sat like a pride of lions around him.

Funny enough, looking around the house… this party? Not so little or so mutual. In fact, you’re almost certain there’s friends of friends here, migrating up the stairs that you’ve just traversed. And the majority of them have been gathered around your ex-boyfriend for the past hour like he was the main entertainment of the evening.

So here you are, with a handful of drinks in you and your patience dwindling. You huff, sparing glances through open doors and knocking on others down the hall until you’re finally directed to Renjun’s bedroom by a random party-goer.

“Renjun!” your knuckles rap on the door, calling over the back beat of the blaring music. “I know you’re in there! Open the damn door!”

When there’s no answer, you grunt and knock louder. There’s no doubt he can hear you, your fist aching with every hit to the wood grain. The door opens, a very buzzed Renjun appearing before you.

“Fuck, where’s the fire!?”

You shoot him a glare, leaning against the door frame.

“We need to talk.”

“I’m a little busy at the moment.” He chuckles, glancing over his shoulder. It’s now that you notice the wrinkles in his clothes, his dark hair an unruly mess that he attempts to fix by carding his fingers through the tresses. The smear of red at the corner of his mouth has you narrowing your eyes. You scoff.

“Yeah… busy.”

Renjun stumbles, your hand darting out to snatch at the collar of his white tee. His protests fall on deaf ears as you pull him down the hall towards his makeshift studio. He knows he’s not going anywhere, even as he attempts to wretch your fingers from the fabric.

“You’re a real piece of work, you know that?” The heavy bass drums steady in your chest as you yank Renjun into the room. The moment your past the threshold, you let him go, slamming the door behind you.

“Hey, easy!”

“You lied to me.”

Renjun lets loose an exasperated chuckle, smoothing down the fabric of his shirt.

“I wish I knew what you were talking about.” he says, raising his brow. There’s a ghost of amusement playing on his face. He knows. It only fuels your aggravation.

“Oh, YangYang won’t be there, I promise.” You mock the words he’d told you over a FaceTime call just a few days ago. Renjun meets your glare evenly, seemingly unimpressed. He rolls his eyes when you cross your arms.

“I didn’t know he’d come. He told me he had something planned tonight.”

“Right, fucking fat chance that he’s sitting right where I’d catch him cozied up around a bonfire of girls.”

“The perfect place to play a guitar.” he quips. Your eyes narrow, following his movements as he turns toward the random clutter in the studio.

“You know how much I hate this version of Renjun.”

“Which one?” he asks, a teasing lilt in his tone. He stops at his desk, rearranging strewn journals and crumpled pages that have nearly landed in the bin beside the workspace.

“The one that plays dumb just to get out of answering me.”

“I do not-”

“You do!” you bite, feet situating themselves under your weight. You level the brunette with a pointed look.

“You’re holding out on me, I can tell. So, are you gonna spill or what?”

You watch the cogs turn behind his eyes, bringing a hand up to rub at his brow, clearly frustrated with the way this conversation is going. Brown eyes shift from the far wall, dropping the journals on the desk. He turns to you, a look crossing his face that you can’t pinpoint.

“I already told you, I had no idea he was gonna be here, okay? I asked him if he was coming and he said no.” Renjun glances to your form and the way you’re seemingly guarding the door like a well-trained hound. “I didn’t openly invite him. He showed up on his own. Any reason you’re so pissed about that?”

The question catches you off guard. Any reason you’re so pissed about that? What, with the way things ended, you certainly have no right to be. Ignoring the stabbing in your chest, you lick your lips, nails digging into your forearm. He catches the way you shift, spine straightening against the wall.

“What kind of question is that?” you ask, voice clipped.

“A valid one.” Renjun replies, leaning against his desk. There’s that casual air that he exudes as his eyes rake down your body. Observing. Your choice in outfit; that little black dress, the time you put into your hair and makeup, those stilettos. Renjun knows you don’t put that amount of time into going out unless it means something.

He clicks his tongue, blinks. Bourbon swirls with some kind of intent.

“You’re the one who broke up with him, remember? Although I’ve gotta say, if looks could kill, those girls fawning over him would be dead at his feet.”

“Watch your words, Huang.” you warn, a sharpness to your tone that leaves the guy unbothered.

“I haven’t said a thing… it’s called observing.” His voice is cool as ice, arms coming to cross over his chest.

“You’re implying.”

He laughs, snake eyes pinning him where he stands.

“I’m just stating the facts.”

“You want facts?” You close the distance between you and Renjun so quickly, he doesn’t have time to react before you’re right in his face, “You know exactly what the hell you did. You knew how much I didn’t want him here, it’s why I asked you when you invited me. You made a promise that you blew to the wind.”

Your voice is calm but tight - like a rubber band pulled to its limits. You can’t bring yourself to care about how you come across at this point. Not when there’s seven vodka shots warming your veins, clouding all rationality. Your patience is gone as you glare up at the man, watching as a dark brow twitches behind stray tresses. You’re done playing his stupid little game.

The tink of plastic against metal hits your ears as Renjun swipes a broken guitar pick off the desk into the trash bin, eyes deadlocked on the sneer that’s prying at your lips. For a second, he mulls over his actions that led up to this point. Perhaps he’s being a bit of an ass, but you’ve put off talking things out with YangYang for months. He's felt the strain it's put on the group dynamic, and he’s sick of hearing you both say everything is fine. How can two people be fine when they can’t tolerate being in the same room together? And now you come to him like he’s done you wrong, like what he’s done is unforgivable… Renjun doesn’t get it.

A knock at the door pulls him from his thoughts.

“Renjun, you in here? Some jackass is-”

The door opens, Xiaojun stopping short at the sight before him. The tense charge in the room hits him like a tidal wave, and the scowl that etches your face doesn’t give him much room to speculate.

“Uh, sorry to interrupt.” he says, looking between you two. Renjun scratches at his neck, clearing his throat.

“What is it, man?”

“There’s some guy starting shit by the pool. Thought it’d be a job for the host.”

“Yeah, I’ll be out in a minute.”

Xiaojun nods, giving you both one last fleeting glance before the door closes. When the footsteps fade into nothing but reverberating bass, Renjun slips out of the space between you and the desk.

“Where are you going?”

“To take care of damage control, as you just heard.” He turns toward the door with a finality that says this conversation is well over. If you weren’t buzzing, were in your right state of mind, you would have let him go. But the addition of alcohol only egged on your unbridled emotions.

“No, we’re not done talking.” You hiss, a hand darting out to catch his wrist. Renjun groans, and you hear your name slip off his tongue like a bad omen as he aggressively shrugs you off him.

“Stop! Just-” He turns his back to the door, looking at you like you’ve lost your mind. You look on with wide eyes as he takes a deep breath, brows twitching. “You both said that you broke up because things weren’t working out. Something about schedules and other conflicting shit…”

He shakes his head, optics flickering over your face, searching for some sort of answer as to why you're reacting this way. When your shoulders sag, he knows enough. You’re closing off, and as much as Renjun wants to be the friend that mothers you back to good spirits with a gentle hand, it seems that isn’t gonna work. The way you approached this tonight has him clutching at his last straw.

“It’s not my business but-”

“You’re right, it’s not your business-”

“But you decided to make it my business when you pulled me in here and fucking interrogated me! That alone tells me there’s more to the story than you two have let on.” You press you lips together, optics locking onto the far wall. You hear the steady release of a sigh, the rattling of the door knob under his palm. “You’ve been friends for years. You never let the simple things interfere back then.”

“Romantic relationships are different, Renjun.” You don’t need to meet those eyes to know he’s unconvinced.

“You’re impossible…” He mutters. The floorboards groan under his feet as he turns back toward the door, shoulders tight under the fabric of his shirt.

“This conversation is going nowhere. I don’t know why you dragged me in here and grilled me about the one person you don’t want to talk about, but I have a party to host.” His fingers grip the door knob and twist, amber eyes meeting yours over his shoulder.

“I don’t know what the hell is going on between you two, but you need to talk to him. Before the fallout ruins this friend group.”

The door slams shut, and you blink as Renjun’s heavy footfalls fade down the hall. His words sink in. He’s right. You sag against the wall, letting your head fall against the drywall, trying to process everything that just happened. Releasing the breath you didn’t even realize you were holding as the liquor takes another round through your hazy mind. The threat of tears infect your vision, burning even as you attempt to blink them away.

“Fuck.” you hiss, fingers coming to press against the junction of your nose bridge and the corners of your eyes until the pressure conjures rainbow static behind your lids. “Fuck. Fuck!”

You’re ready to leave. Ready to leave this party, block phone numbers and move out of the country if it means you don’t have to face the one person you regret hurting. Selfish, really, but in your current state of mind, it sounds like heaven. You’ve let this situation hang over your head for the past eight months, praying it would go away on it’s own. It’s obvious no God will let you off that easily.

God damn…

Your feet are moving before you can think any further, the studio door left ajar as your figure strides down the hall and descends the stairs. You need a glass of water to clear your head, something to prepare yourself for what’s about to happen. Optics dart to the sofa, where YangYang has been most of the evening, but he’s no longer there. The guitar leans against the wall, propped up with the help of the sofa's armrest. You bee-line for the kitchen.

The main space between the living room and kitchen has significantly dwindled to a small group of people, and you remember what Xiaojun had said about the shit starter by the pool. A simple glance to the back patio tells you that’s where everyone has gone. Empty cups and snack trays are left behind, alongside a few couples making out in the corner, and the few people conversing near the kitchen island, including Xiaojun. He greets you with a soft smile, offering you another drink that you graciously decline.

“You good?” he asks, smile fading into furrowed brows.

“Yeah, I think I’m over the alcohol for tonight.” you mutter, taking an chilled water bottle from the cooler. “Do you know where YangYang ran off to?”

“Last I saw him, he looked like he was leaving for the night.” he replies, taking another swig of his beverage. You blink, cracking the cap on the bottle and bringing it to your lips in one swift motion. Despite the amount of alcohol you’ve had in such a short amount of time, the water you take down washes away your brain fog, and you turn toward the front door with a newfound clarity.

YangYang isn’t gone. You know him well enough. And you’re ready to face him. You have to be. Because you aren’t leaving here until you set things right.

You pat Xiaojun on the shoulder as you leave, a quiet thanks uttered as you force yourself to move toward the exit, fingers latching on the handle.

The cool night air washes over your skin, but you welcome the instantaneous sobering up it provides. It’s quiet out here, as quiet as a house party can get for the chatter and music, crickets chirping in the protection of well-manicured shrubs. With a quick scan of your surroundings, you find who you’re looking for.

Liu YangYang stands at the far corner of the porch, leaning against the railing with his back to you. He’d be unnoticeable by most people, shrouded in October shadows.

You’re not most people.

It’s as if the world falls still in the time it takes you to walk over, your stomach swirling like a blender on full power. He’s by himself out here. That makes it easier, right? You let out a shaky breath, the sudden urge to bolt over the railing and disappear into the woods like a spooked fawn flooding your veins. But you don’t. You can’t.

“We need to talk.” you pipe up, clearing your throat in an attempt to hide the tremor in your voice. Black hair falls into brown eyes, a grunt of your name passing his lips at the sound of your voice. You never want to hear him say your name like that again. Like you're the scum of the earth.

“Heard you were pretty pissed about my being here.” he says. Even under his sweater, you can see how taught his back muscles are, how he's trying to hold himself back. Your eyes slip shut.

Renjun… He must have caught up with YangYang before you could make it downstairs. You let the curses slip to the back of your mind, focusing on the matter at hand. You know this doesn’t have to be hard. Just a short, civil conversation between you and your ex. With a lick of your lips, you try again.

“YangYang, I’m-”

“You know, it’s really fucking insulting to hear that.” He brings the half-full solo cup in his hand to his lips, taking the rest of his drink down in one go. Dark optics stare blankly toward the dimly lit street. “Especially when you’ve avoided me for the past eight months. When no one else knows the truth about you.”

You swallow hard at his comment, staring at the foot that he can't stop tapping against the porch.

“I don’t wanna fight with you, YangYang.” you say, taking a step toward him, “I know you don’t want to talk to me, but I need to talk to you.”

You hear the huff of a scoff, and he turns just enough to lock eyes with you from over his shoulder, pupils digging into you from the corners.

“Better eight months late than never.”

“YangYang-”

“What?” he interjects, snapping like a cornered fox, “Too busy with them to come to me sooner with your bullshit excuses?”

YangYang doesn’t need to face you to get his emotions across. You’ve never had trouble deciphering whether he was emotionally six feet under or floating on cloud nine. But now, you feel like you’re Gaia up against the raw power of Helios; a violent storm of solar particles slamming against you in his attempts to protect his heart from freezing over.

The auroras of scorched and unspoken truths. Your magnetic field is battered and bruised too significantly to sustain such a blow.

That’s on you, you know. You’d come to the realization eight months ago when you took that sledgehammer to a decade of friendship. A decade of trust that transformed into so much more. An angel of a boy that you threw away - tore his wings from his back for good measure.

You shake your head, that fire burning behind your eyes.

“You’re not being fair, here.” You whisper, and as much as you don’t want this conversation to escalate, you know there’s no stopping it. You flinch when he whips around, wild eyes boring into yours, a snarl threatening to break the crease of his lips. He points a finger at you.

“You cheated, Love! You!” The term of endearment is anything but; poison on the tongue that used to serenade you and whisper sweet nothings in your ear. He is the ferocity of a rabid dog in the form of gnashing teeth and beady eyes, panting and growling in warning when you try to console it.

“Two years together! Thirteen years of friendship and trust that you so easily struck a match to like that?! Fucking treated me like I was an afterthought in your daily schedule while we were still together! The nights you came home and lied through your teeth, telling me you were working late… that you were out with friends… Fuck, I even felt you pulling away and I still tried telling myself that I was crazy. No, no, you wouldn’t do that to me. We’ve been through so much together. Fucking fool, I am!”

You watch him through the glaze of tears as he stalks toward you. The hurt in his eyes burns like a serrated knife, slicing away at the worn and ruptured threads of your relationship that scream with every threat of the blade.

“So, no, you don't get to tell me I'm being unfair! I saw the way you watched me tonight. You probably don't realize how many drinks you had because you were too busy raising your hackles at the girls that I was talking to. Ran off to light a fire under Renjun's ass because things didn't go your way.”

Your heart pounds against your breast, your pulse violent in your fingertips. In your head, this conversation played out with less hostility. You expected some anger - it’s only fair with the pain you put him through - but this was another level entirely. In all your years of knowing YangYang, he’d never blown up like this.

Never at you.

Never because of you.

This isn’t the boy that you would race to school every morning, who dried your tears and rubbed the rocks from your knees when you tripped yourself. The one who would send you dumb memes in the middle of class, and took accountability so you weren't sitting in detention alone. Who bought you a promise ring for your ten years of being friends, and another when you celebrated two years of dating.

Your rock in the toughest situations and you threw him into the ocean with little thought. Didn't even watch as he sank to the depths.

You blink, feeling the tears track down you cheeks as you speak.

“I never wanted to hurt you like I did, and I should’ve talked to you about this months ago. I’ve…” You hesitate, “I’ve been think about that night a lot.”

“Good.” He doesn’t miss a beat.

“It was a mistake, and I can’t even give you a good reason for it.” you whimper, breath catching in your throat, “I’m so sorry, YangYang. I-I wasn’t thinking straight. I never should’ve-”

Words fail you, your composure breaking with a burst of tears that hits so suddenly, it's impossible to breathe. You hug yourself with trembling arms, nails digging into your palms.

“I don’t want this to be it for us,” you say, your words strangled as you try to wrangle in your tears, “there has to be a way to fix this!”

He’s close enough to touch, and you reach out with little thought, pulling him into you, wrapping your arms around his torso. Your fingers grip into the back of his sweater as you sob into his shoulder, your body shaking with every strangled hiccup.

YangYang doesn’t move, doesn't push you off. He just stands here. There’s no warm embrace enveloping your frame, no tears to share with you. It’s like you’re hugging a stone statue, the body heat that he exudes being some sort of sick joke when all you feel is the chill of a vacant shell.

“Please, tell me what I can do to fix it!” The plea hangs over you like a specter, ghastly fingers wrapping tight around your throat. The silence grows long, nothing more than faint strains of music drifting through the cracks of the windows and doors of the house, carrying some hint of life beyond the two of you. You almost wish he’d begin to yell again, growl about the extent of which you’ve hurt him. Anything but this indifference, this apathy towards the one girl he’s given everything to. But this… this feels like him finally giving up. Like he’s finally decided that you aren’t worth the trouble anymore. You don’t want to accept it, but every second that ticks by is like another nail in the coffin.

You pull away, fingers twitching as they come up to cradle his jaw. The muscles under the flesh tenses, and he recoils from your touch like it’s physically hurting him, looking off across the street with a hollow gaze. It’s a tortuously long moment before he levels you with those brown eyes. They’re dull when they look at you now; worlds away. A fresh grave, its soil rejecting any and all growth, no flowers, no grass. Seeds greedily plucked from the ground by songbirds and rodents. No one to care for the plot when the soul’s story is made up of little white lies. He watches from the corner of his eye as the tears collect on mascara-laden lashes, the makeup mixing with the liquid as it trickles down and off your chin.

“I don’t want it to be over either,” he admits. A stray tear falls from his lash line, but there’s a void of emotion in his tone. “But…”

There’s that pause again, and you can’t handle it this time. The knot in your chest tightens like a vice, brows pulling inward when he goes to take a step backward. You shake your head, his name sputtering from your lips like it’s the only thing that could offer a modicum of comfort.

“I love you, YangYang,” you say the words quickly, desperately, clinging to his arms as he spares you nothing more than a glance. “I still do, please, please don’t- don’t do this! I’m sorry!”

“That’s the same dress.”

You look up with wide eyes, jaw slack as you sniffle.

“What?”

“You wore that dress the night you came home drunk with them.” he says.

You glance down at the fabric hugging your figure, the memories from that night coming back to you in what little fragments you can remember. Clinging to their shirt as you both laughed between kisses, the clumsy fumble of your key in the lock. You had woke up to them in your bed, a raging hangover, and your boyfriend sitting on the couch in silence when you went searching for a glass of water and an Aspirin. You don't remember doing anything more than kissing, but cheating was cheating. And YangYang had been livid.

He shakes his head, laughs incredulously. “You’re insane. You're dead to me.”

“YangYang, I-” is all you can get out before he’s pulling away again, shoving you off him with enough force to send you staggering to your knees. For a moment you sit there in a stunned stupor, your hands splayed over the wood grain of the porch, gasping for breath as you openly sob. Composing yourself at this point is impossible, anxiety clutching at your lungs like a serpent’s stranglehold. Your legs tremble, eyes burning with unspent tears. He hasn’t walked away yet, and for a moment you think maybe there’s some semblance of salvaging this until-

“Don’t come crawling back to me when they put you through the same shit you put me through. Fucking cry yourself to sleep.”

It’s the last thing he says, storming off as he passes your heaving frame with little more than a glance. Down the front steps. Down the path to the side walk. It’s over. You choke back sobs as you fight for oxygen, numb to the feeling of warm hands on your back. Through the onslaught of tears, you recognize the shoe beside your knee as Xiaojun’s.

You try to focus on his voice, listening to each syllable as he murmurs your name in your ear and his attempts to guide you out of this frantic head space, but all you can focus on is the black hole manifesting within your chest. Your heart is like lead at your feet, your lungs burn, and your ears ring to a fever pitch.

YangYang’s words ring in your head like a death knell. The bell’s final toll signaling the end as the shadow of the man you knew disappears down the street.

You have no one to blame but yourself.

Psst!! If you made it this far, thank you for taking the time to read my work 💕 I appreciate you!

#wayv #yangyang #liu yangyang #wayv x reader #wayv x you #liu yangyang x reader #yangyang x reader #nct wayv #wayv imagines #wayv scenarios #wayv angst #wayv x f!reader #yangyang x f!reader #yangyang imagines #liu yangyang x f!reader #wayv drabbles #x f!reader #x female reader #quokkawritings🌻

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raayllum · 5 months

Note

1 - favorite fic you wrote this year. 3 - favorite line/scene you wrote this year. 12 - favorite character to write about this year. 14 - a fic you didn’t expect to write. 21 - most memorable comment/review. And 24 - favorite fic you read this year.

I have no precision on fandom or fic... You are free to choose which fandom. Thus, you may make us discover other universes.

1) favourite fic you wrote this year

Looked through and discovered that I wrote 20 fics this year, which is wild, even if the majority are oneshots so... certainly have my pick an picks for various reasons!

These are the ones, probably:

This Fall Might Just Kill Me is 10.2k of Callum trying and failing to get purified, post-S4, and was one of my favourites and one I return to pretty often for a personal re-read. Very Callum/Rayla centric, some magic worldbuilding, and lots of devotion. Oneshot

Twice as Many Stars is 8.7k of Sir Sparklepuff is an existential horror story, the fic, featuring more religious trauma allegory than expected. Also a oneshot

Teach Me How to Name the Bigger Light a fanon s6 currently of 5 out of roughly 26-30ish chapters, and at 41k and counting. Main characters are Callum, Ezran, Rayla, and Claudia in about that order. It's a lot of fun, and a lot of angst

3) favourite line/scene this year

"If it's not you, it's not anyone" has one of my favourite love / Rayllum confessions I've ever written. I also loved this line from a (now non canon) fic regarding Kpp'Ar's feelings on Callum/people "There are many ways to mend broken things, if you can". I deeply enjoyed Callum threatening Nyx over Rayla's safety in this pre-S5 fic and this piece of description as well: "Callum knelt down in front of her, her cheeks heating as he reached up and pried the shawl away again, looking at the way the scar crept over her shoulder like dark ivy" + this Rayllum passage from "this fall just might kill me" (edit in the link):

“It’s because if I die,” he said, squeezing her hands. “I want you to be the last thing I ever see. And you are good enough, Rayla. You are . I don’t care if you destroy me. I don't care if we make each other better or worse or both. I love you. I’ll fall for you every time. I’ll choose to, I’ll choose you, every time.”

I also really enjoyed writing Callum and Lujanne in "older but just never wiser" because it was interesting to revisit their dynamic now that well, Callum is older, powerful, and much more jaded/angry.

Drabbles wise this Rayllum one has one of my favourite metaphoric uses I've ever been able to pull off and I always love 1) writing messy Ezran and 2) Ezran being a little done with his brother's less than favourable methods, so this one for Ezran's "underhanded" comment for sure

But if I had to pick a singular exchange fic wise, it is of course the end of the Callum and Ezran fight from Ch4 of fanon s6, because it was a line that hurt me so much I was sad the rest of the day, and I also thought of it before writing a decent chunk of the boys' argument, so making sure it felt earned and hit the way I wanted to was very fun if also angsty. I apologize in advance lmao:

Only this time Callum scoffed, peeling away, his green eyes glinting. “Yeah, right.” “I am your king and I forbid you—” “You don’t get to forbid me from doing anything because guess what?” A manic gleam overtook his brother’s face. “I don’t fucking care what you think, nevermind what you fucking decree. I’m freeing Runaan, and that’s final.” “Then you can do it without my help,” Ezran said with a ragged breath. “Because I am not giving you my seal.” Callum stared at him with cold eyes. “Dad would be so disappointed in you.” But this time Ezran was ready for the blow, as he said, “Well at least I called him Dad."

A shameless plug OG fantasy world wise was definitely this lines from my sequel WIP. You can learn more about it/the fantasy world here <3

The Alpha of the Crescents may have worn her old friend’s face and mannerisms, but the girls they’d both been were long dead, just like their families. It was time to finish the job and bury them.

as well as

“Good. Vita willing I won’t live to see your next lives.” “Because seeing you again has been so pleasant,” Jamie muttered.

from book one

12) favourite character to write about this year

Given my above answers it's clearly been Callum, but Ezran has probably been my standout in "teach me how to name the bigger light," easy, even if I think Rayla's POV is going to sneak up on me more and more as the fic goes on, especially once we reach the chapters at the Starscraper. I've also written a somewhat decent amount of Kpp'Ar POV this year, I loved writing Claudia in "twice as many stars" in particular. Everyone? Can I say everyone?

But if I had to pick, Callum. (Non fic wise it's all the OG chosen one kiddos running around, I love 'em.)

14) a fic you didn't expect to write

Many days of angry muttering and half concocted plot points predated "teach me how to name the bigger light" and I am still slightly internally salty about it. However, it does feel good to have one last fanon season foray, especially since it's been four years since the last one, and I've been having a fucking blast, lemme tell you.

21) most memorable comment/review

This is hard because I do cherish every review and kind word I get (as well as anyone who leaves notes in their bookmarks) but there are some standouts. Basically anything from twice as many stars is fair game as well as this review on fanon s6, cause I'm gonna go the typical write route and say the long bois make my day / when readers catch onto the smaller details, that's absolutely my favourite:

@inamindfarfaraway <3 hope you've enjoyed the most recent chapter!

24) favourite fic you read this year

Have already done some TDP fic recs here so I'm gonna focus on what's in my bookmarks for now! I mostly read LOZ or SOC fics when I'm not making my way through TDP backlog, but this one for Six of Crows centreing on Inej and Kaz called High Wire Act stood out to me and I'm really enjoying "for the children we couldn't be" for TDP because it's trio centric and the exact kind of time travel fuckery I like to read.

This is tricky, though, cause I find most often the favourite things I participate in is like, the stuff I write because it's what I want to read and most tailored to my specific tastes? I also just don't read as much fic as I could / have in the past and it's hard to pick Just One Fic, y'know? So cop out answer, maybe, but this is the one!

#thanks for asking #forbidden op lore #a year in review lmao #perlelas #my fic #dragons rambles

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stevenose · 1 year

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don’t judge me i’m feeling soft and angsty lmao let’s do steve, k17, s8, w12 💓💓💓

luv a good angsty moment <3 is for u

prompt: Steve + apology sex + apartment + “don’t look at me like that”

contains: gender unspecified reader; oral (reader receiving); vague descriptions of oral; some ham-fisted angst and mentions/slander of Nancy (she’s my bbg so its ok <3); allusions to insecurity/past cheating

han’s 1k celebration

“Don’t look at me like that,” you say, not breaking from the homework you’re currently trying to finish.

“Like what?”

You grit your teeth but refuse to answer. Answering would require another argument that you have no time or energy for. You need to finish your university assignments before flunking, and Steve knows that. But he’s still pushing, because he can’t stand it when you’re mad at him, and he can’t stand it when he knows he’s fucked up.

“I’m sorry,” he says again, fiddling with the edge of his shirt.

“Okay.”

He scoffs but says nothing else. The silence is a little too loud. Usually your shared apartment was filled with noise, whether from you or him. He’s usually singing under his breath and watching TV, or washing dishes, or trying to read that book you recommended to him two years ago that he still hasn’t finished, the flipping of parchment reminding you that your apartment is a home. But it’s dead quiet now, save for the sound of Steve’s occasional sigh.

“I have to get this done, and then we can talk. Okay?”

Steve does that mean girl thing that he’s prone to do when he’s moody and bites without thinking. “You don’t think our relationship is more important than your stupid homework?”

Your head shoots up and you stare icily at him. He immediately recoils, relaxes his shoulders and face as he inches towards you. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, okay? I can’t stand it when you’re upset at me.”

“You know why I’m upset at you.”

“I know,” he sighs. “Look -”

“I don’t understand why you can’t just trust me. I know what happened with….” You don’t even have to say Nancy and he’s already wincing. It makes you angrier. “I’m not like her. Okay? I wouldn’t do things like that to you. And if you feel like she’s such a big loss -”

“I don’t -”

“Then maybe you should just go back to her.”

Steve looks equally heartbroken and frustrated. “I don’t think she’s a big loss. I won everything when I met you. But it’s not easy for me to get over what happened.”

You close your eyes and take a deep breath. “I know. I know. I’m sorry. But it gets so frustrating sometimes, Steve. I just - I want to be able to go out with friends and not have you freaking out the entire time. I want to be able to study with people and not have you glare at everyone when you come and pick me up.”

“I don’t glare -”

“You glare.”

He sighs again. “I know it’s stupid, but I - I don’t go to college. I work at a video store with a porn section in the back and I make, like, three dollars an hour. I have no prospects like your friends do.”

“You do! Why do you keep sayin’ that? Jesus, Steve, you act like you’re in the last quarter of your life. We have everything ahead of us. It doesn’t have to be figured out right now. We have each other. We have a life together. I don’t care if you - I just want you.” You’re so frustrated you could cry, and Steve notices. He moves towards you to wrap you in his arms, and you let him, squeezing him even tighter. “You’re the best person I know. You don’t have to be a physics major for me to love you. You’re the only person I’ll ever want.”

“What about Harrison Ford?” he says, voice muffled as he dips his head into your shoulder.

“Don’t make me laugh. I’m still mad at you.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too.”

You stay like that for a while, swaying with each other. “I still have to finish my homework.”

“Let me help,” he says, and you give him a skeptical look, but he knows what he’s doing. He rests between your legs as you sit back down at your desk, spreading them open.

“Not sure how this will help,” you say, picking your pencil back up and trying to pay attention to your textbook. Steve grabs your hips and slides them towards him, making you slink down in your chair. “Okay, this absolutely won’t help.”

“Let me make things up to you,” he murmurs, and while you want to complain - if anything, he needs some love - but the wind is knocked out of you when his lips make contact with your sweet spot.

“Steve,” you moan, pulling your legs up to rest on his shoulders. His nose plays with you for a moment before he uses his tongue, licking broad stripes into your skin.

“I’m gonna eat you out,” he mumbles, pressing a kiss to your hip, “make you cum a couple times. And then you’re going to go hang out with your friends with your cum still drippin’ down your thighs.”

“What a gentleman,” you breathe, wrapping a hand in his hair as he starts to devour you. “I’d r-rather… rather… spend the night with you.”

He hums into you. “You bend easy.”

If you weren’t so blissed out, you’d argue with him again. You throw your head back as he gets into a rhythm, making your heart pound and eyes cross. “I… make it up t’you,” you moan. “Show y’how much I… oh, God!”

“Say it,” he begs. “Tell me.”

“How much I love you,” you rush out. “How much I want you.”

“Don’t ya have homework you need to do? Hmm? Wasn’t it so important earlier?”

You grab the back of his hair and push his mouth back onto you, both of you groaning loudly at the sensation. Your eyes flutter closed as your head lulls back. “I … can … turn it in late.”

#steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader #stevenose posts #ns/fw #steve x reader #stevenose 1k

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more-better-words · 1 month

Text

20 Questions for Fic Writers

Tagged by @iamstartraveller776! Thank you! ☺️

1. How many works do you have on AO3? 49 (that number will be changing soon)

2. What's your total AO3 word count? 538,126 (a full third of that is a single story 😅)

3. What fandoms do you write for? Ummmm....I have written for numerous fandoms over the years, and most of them you haven't heard of! (no seriously)

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos? The four fics that make up my Star Trek: Enterprise series Built to Last, (and one other lol).

From the Ground Up

What We Build Here

For the Duration

The Place We Call Home

Lay Down the Beat (Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency)

5. Do you respond to comments? Heck yeah! I love comments. I'm such a comment ho, bring 'em on.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? I have kind of an allergy to angst, so...none, really. Okay, What We Build Here has a slightly angsty ending, but that was ONLY because I knew I was writing a followup and the angst would be healed! Bittersweet is about as hard as I go.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Hmmm...Almost all of them? 😄 Destiny and Venturing the Uncharted both have pretty darn sappy happy endings, and of course, the whole point of the Built to Last series was to provide a happy ending, so... yeah. Come to me for all your "everything's gonna be okay" needs.

8. Do you get hate on fics? Haven't on AO3. Tumblr, though...that's another matter. (Which never fails to bewilder me. You're gonna take time out of your life to send anon hate to ME? ME?? Who the actual frilly heck am I to warrant anon hate??)

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? Sort of? Kind of? For years, I didn't try, and now I have, and it's all rated M because I don't think I have anything more explicit in me, but I'm enjoying it? (it's all extremely fluffy, though, because I'm just a fluff merchant at heart)

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written? No, I never have. I'm not sure my brain's wired for that.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not that I know of, but the majority of my fic is so niche I would be stunned if I did.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? See above, re: niche

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? Sort of...years ago, I co-wrote some Baldur's Gate AU fic with a friend that never got published anywhere. Which is a shame, because it was good stuff.

14. What’s your all time favorite ship? Whichever one I'm writing at the moment lol.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? Probably the sequel to In a Strange Land. Of all the stories I've started and never finished, that one stings the most.

16. What are your writing strengths? Dialogue. I like to think I have a pretty good ear for it (so to speak).

17. What are your writing weaknesses? Plot. 😅 I'm great at having characters sit around and talk, but I'm terrible at having things actually happen.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? Complete neutrality. I've never done it, so I don't give it much thought.

19. First fandom you wrote for? Buffy the Vampire Slayer! And if you managed to dig up my old LiveJournal, you could still read it!

20. Favorite fic you’ve written? I love them for different reasons at different times. 😄

Tagging anyone who wants to play!

#tag game #writer stuff

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luxaryllis · 2 years

Text

Perfect? (Are You Proud of Me?)

150+ Followers Special

Note: Yes, this prbly isn't a milestone-

But I wanted to do this haha

Because @simplydlightfuldestiny has given me SUCH AN AMAZING IDEA OMG 😍😍

SO! This fic will be a songfic of Perfect by Simple Plan. A few lyrics will be changed, though.

It will focus on Vil Schoenheit and Vil's Younger Sibling!Reader (from my Younger Sibling who doesn’t want to be like him fic)

This will be full angst!!

Also, please note that this might deviate from the normal plotline I have in mind for the fic series, so yeah!

Anyway, let’s get to it!!

Warning: Major character death, Very angsty, Su*cide, Use of blade/sharp object, Slight gore? (I put a TW before it), tell me if I missed something

Hey, brother, look at me.

[Name] looks at the nightstand next to their bed. There, stood a photograph with them and Vil as a child, being hugged in their father's arms.

‘Those times... we were so happy...’

Think back and talk to me...

Did I grow up according to plan?

...did they? Is Vil proud of them for going this far? Is Dad proud of them for doing all this? Are they happy for them?

Was all the harsh training and practice worth it? All those nights spent crying? All those blood, sweat, and tears?

And do you think I'm wasting my time doing the things I wanna do?

[Name] remembers a time when they were a kid. They had ran away from etiquette lessons to play outside. Their teacher was very confused where they were. When Vil had found them, he had given them a scolding, and made them go through even harsher etiquette lessons.

But it hurts when you disapprove all along...

All their life, [Name] had been bending over backwards, trying to get Vil's approval. He was a strict teacher, and it was hard to even get him to approve of something. [Name]'s older brother set high standards for himself, and sets the same ones on his younger sibling. 'So they can be the best they can', he says.

And now I try hard to make it

I just wanna make you proud...

'I just want to... make you proud...', is something [Name] often finds themselves thinking when they see Vil. When they hear his criticism. Whenever he disapproves something they did.

I'm never gonna be good enough for you...

Can't pretend that I'm alright...

Those sleepless nights full of crying. The strict schedules. The strict and harsh lessons. The trainings. The interviews. The cameras constantly following them...

It's getting annoying...

[Name] has never found any comfort with cameras and people constantly looking at them.

It makes them uncomfortable.

But for the Schoenheit image's sake, they have to just smile and bear it.

For Vil... for father...

Never for [Name]....

And you can't change me

Cause we've lost it all!

Why did they have to lash out at him in public of all places...

Now, all their hard work will be RUINED...

All because of their selfish feelings...

But...

Finally opening up about their feelings felt nice.

It was an... unwelcome, but welcome event.

Nothing lasts forever

"I'm sorry I can't be...

perfect..."

[Name] says out loud to themselves as they continue writing something on a piece of paper.

Now, it's just too late...

And we can't go back...

I'm sorry I can't be perfect...

Big Brother... I'm so sorry...

Dad... I'm so sorry too...

I'm such a horrible younger sibling and child to you both...

I'm sorry for the feelings of shame you both must be having right now...

Heh... the child and younger sibling of world-famous actors... doesn't want to be in the acting industry...

All because of some stupid feelings...

They must be so ashamed to be related to someone so selfish...

I try not to think

About the pain I feel inside

Countless days and years of keeping everything inside. Bottling up their emotions...

Because...

Surely...

Beneath that harsh and strict exterior, the old Vil is certainly still there...

Right?

Did you know...

You used to be my hero...

‘Why is older brother so obsessed about not being the villain of a show?

...when he was already the hero of mine...?’, [Name] thinks to themselves, still writing down on the paper.

All the days you spent with me

Now seem so far away

[Name] looks back at the time when Vil was less strict to them. They would always play together and have fun.

But that was a long time ago...

And those memories are so blurry to [Name], to the point it’s really hard to remember them.

And now...

It feels like you don’t care anymore...

Vil no longer seemed like the hero of [Name]’s life. As if he was a hero, turned antagonist, in [Name]’s life.

It was as if Vil constantly pushed his weaknesses and expectations onto [Name], without knowing how they feel about it.

As if he didn’t care about them at all anymore...

And yet I try hard to make it

Those auditions, strict schedules, strict diets, harsh trainings, etiquette lessons...

[Name] only allowed themselves to go through with those because...

I just wanna make you proud...

They thought that... if they would go through with all these, Vil would be proud of them...

But Vil only raised his expectations higher, and higher, and higher...

I’m never gonna be good enough for you...

‘I will never... be good enough.. for you...’

‘No matter how hard I try...’

‘I just won’t ever be perfect enough for you...’ (small Encanto reference-)

I can’t stand another fight...

---

‘I don’t want to fight big brother anymore...

“Okay, alright?! I get it!! You don’t have to say everything a million times! Don’t you understand that I DON’T WANT TO BE LIKE YOU!!! Acting isn’t what I want to do in life if it’s YOU in there! Modelling is a ‘no’ for me if YOU are there!! I’m sick and TIRED of having to put up with how you act! My life is NOT about you! It is NOT!!!! Why can’t you understand…?”

---

I don’t want him to go through anymore bad things...’

And nothing’s alright...

'Cause we’ve lost it all..

Nothing lasts forever...

I’m sorry, I can’t be...

Perfect...

...

Nothing’s gonna change the things that you said!

And nothing’s gonna make this right again...

I can’t believe it’s hard..

to just talk to you...

But you don’t understand!!!

Remembering all the times Vil has tried to talk to [Name], but [Name] running away makes [Name] full of regret.

But they can’t talk to him.

They don’t want to show their stupid face in front of him again..

They just can’t...

They bring out the blade they took and hid.

“Big brother... dad... I’m sorry I can’t be perfect...”, [Name] says one more time before deeply stabbing themselves in the stomach.

It took a couple of minutes, or hours, until [Name] finally started to see the black dots in their vision.

‘Big brother... dad... I’m sorry... I can’t take it anymore... I’m sorry...’, [Name] thinks to themselves, tears running down their face from the pain and sadness.

And everything goes dark.

---

“[Name], it’s 9 AM, you should be awake by now. Goodness, did I not tell you to be awake by 6 AM?”, Vil says, sighing exasperatingly as he opens the door to his younger sibling’s room.

He had taken this opportunity to finally have a heart-to-heart with [Name]. He wanted to apologize for his actions and hopefully reconcile with his sibling.

Little did he know, he would never be able to get to do so...

Upon entering the room, Vil notices a... metallic smell..

Almost like...

blood...

Upon realization, Vil’s eyes widen, and he immediately looks and darts around the room to look for his dear sibling.

No...

No, no, no...

Great Sevens, no....

Not his sibling...

Finally, he decides to check the other side of his sibling’s bed.

*TW AHEAD! SKIP IF YOU CAN’T HANDLE A BIT OF GORE*

There, he sees [Name], his sibling, laying down, blood still coming out of their stomach, knife in hand.

*YOU CAN CONTINUE READING*

His sibling’s skin so pale and their eyes so lifeless.

“NOOO!!! [Name] PLEASE NO!!”, Vil cries out, screaming.

Upon hearing his son’s scream, Mr. Schoenheit runs up the stairs, startled.

Upon entering his youngest child’s room and rushing to where Vil is, he’s horrified.

“[Name]!!! NO, NOOO!”, Mr. Schoenheit screams out as well, quickly taking out his phone and calling an ambulance and the police.

“No, my baby... [Name]... why...”, Mr. Schoenheit mumbles out, heartbroken.

“I’m so sorry... father... [Name]... I’ve failed both of you...”, Vil says, also heartbroken.

---

By the time the police and ambulance get there, Vil and his father have tears still streaming down their faces, make-up smudged.

“I’m sorry, sir. But the wound was there too long and your child has lost far too much blood. We can’t save them..”, a doctor comes up and brings the bad news to the father-son duo.

Upon hearing that, Vil and Mr. Schoenheit’s hearts drop even further (if that was even possible).

The Schoenheit family has now lost their pride and joy, [Name] Schoenheit.

---

Vil and his father are now both in front of a grave.

On the grave says:

[Name] Schoenheit,

A beautiful and hardworking child and sibling.

In Vil’s hand is a note, the note that his sibling had left for he and their father.

---

Dear brother and father,

If you are reading this right now, I must have already been dead now.

And just know that...

I’m sorry.

I’m sorry I’ve been a bad sibling and child. I’m sorry for lashing out at you, Vil.

And most of all, I’m sorry I couldn’t be a perfect person for you.

I don’t deserve the title of ‘Schoenheit’s Pride and Joy’...

I’m not perfect... I never wanted to be perfect.

But..

Big brother, dad...

Have I made you proud?

At least just once?

Because I’ve always wanted to make you guys proud of me.

So...

Have I?

I know I’ve been a bad kid..

But have I at least made you proud?

And...

Vil... big brother...

I’m sorry.

I really never wanted to be like you...

I admire how you are so hardworking and dedicated...

But why are you so obsessed with being the hero of some fictional story?

When you’re already... the hero of mine...

Am I not good enough for you?

Have I not been a good apprentice and protégé?

If so... I’m sorry.

I hope my death made you relax a bit more...

Now you don’t have to worry about someone else...

I love you, big brother!

With respect and love,

[Name] Schoenheit

---

END!!

OKAY! I know I just posted the 100+ special, but I just wanted to get this off my drafts.

Also, I made a reference to Encanto hehe-

I’ll start focusing on the Hetalia!Hungary!MC from now on.

Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed the angst!!

Feedback and comments are very much appreciated!

Also, @dr3amscap3, my light, are you proud of me now? 💙 /hj

Thanks for the support, everyone!! 💙💙

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst sibling reader #twst angst #vil schoenheit

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sannflwrr · 2 years

Text

Sorry I Didn’t Say Something Sooner

Author: sannflwrr

Pairing: Taehyung x Y/N (ft. Jungkook)

Rating: 18+

Warnings: mid profanities (?), angst (per usual), mentions of weed, alcoholism, su!c!de, se*f-ha*m (yea this can be a very sensitive topic of individuals so please be cautious as you’re reading)

Summary: What would have happened if they said something sooner?

a/n: oof this is actually so depressing. idk i was getting in my thoughts as i was writing this so some of the inner monologues are just me reflecting, i apologize for another angsty draft :”)

Sometimes I think of myself like a planet. Everyone was their own star, at the center of their own lives, while I was hopelessly rotating around others. Everyone found a way to be loved, I struggled to make people love me. I was alone, exiled from the solar system. I was Pluto. And Kim Taehyung, he was my sun.

After sometime, going so long without any type of romantic interaction makes a person hopeless. Am I that unlovable? Everyone I knew around me had experienced one at some point, sweet love, a spicy summer fling, all sorts of tropes that I had only ever read about in stories. They would tell me my chance would come when I’m older. It never made sense. If not now, what would ever indicate that I would be deserving of it in the future? To make matters worse, there was someone who I yearned to open my heart up to, but I was far too much of a coward and my belief that I was simply unloved was far too strong that I didn’t see the signs. Not until it was too late.

We all used to be great friends in high school and throughout college. In-state tuition was cheap, so most of the friend group remained within the state for the following four years, where we attended school at the same university, just very different majors. Life was fun then, I was distracted by the highs of singleness that I momentarily forgot about all my inner hatred for myself. My lack of sexual and romantic experience which channeled into my lack of self esteem and a build up of hatred to my own physical appearance. I never realized my behavior was all just a lot of insecurity. I was constantly conscious about the way I looked, the way I talked, how I sent text messages to people, to the point where it was overbearing. Only after I began seeing a therapist after the nightmare that was senior year, did I begin to realize I had major issues with my self-image.

Taehyung was easily the most liked in our group. He was fun, easygoing, and pretty. During orientation week as freshmen, lots of girls would approach him, because he was eye-catching and had a baritone voice that usually caught people by surprise. They would tell him they loved his hair. He used to smile back and say thank you. They liked his hair, but not as much as I did. No one ever liked it as much as I did, because I was the only one who never told him how much I did. He would simply catch me staring at his hair, and I’d give him a small smile, then look out the window. I never told him a lot of things I was feeling, and in that way, I felt like our silence was our language. It’s hard to explain through words, but it felt like we understood each other in a different way than the others did.

He was good with his alcohol, while I only drank in social settings. That taste of it was awful, unless it was heavily diluted with orange juice or it was the cotton candy flavored wine from the grocery store two blocks away. My friends knew I didn’t like drinking, but rather than exclude me from their outings, they still brought me along. It was nice that they didn’t make fun of me for not drinking with them. By this point, it was junior year, so most of them were borderline alcoholics. Taehyung had started to smoke by this point, so whenever I came near him, he would smell like earth and cinnamon. It was more grown up, but it suited him. I still liked his curly hair, which remained unchanged. He asked me if I wanted to try his joint once. It was difficult for me to say no to guy like him, with his sweet dark chocolate eyes, so I did. It was terrible, I ended up choking over air, and coughing so much that my eyes turned red. It was worth it because it made Taehyung laugh, which strung a chord in my heart.

“I miss hearing your laugh.” I had told him. We were out in the parking lot of the bar, the silence was nice in contrast to the music and noise inside the building. My comment caused his smile to fade slightly, but not completely. Like he had been waiting for someone to notice. Like he wanted someone to notice.

“I just can’t find a lot of things worth enjoying anymore.” He looks down at the burning cigarette in his hand, and lets it fall to the ground. “It’s an easy escape, this thing.”

And for a moment, those words of his brought me out of the little bubble I created for myself. I remembered all of the awful things I would say to myself in the mirror, the constant doubt…

We were the same, I realized. He had friends and felt so surrounded to the point where he was alone. No one understood him. They liked his exterior, whatever he put on for other people. And I was so alone that,

I was so alone, that my thoughts scared me.

“Do you like juice?” I asked him. I looked to the street, across from us was a 7/11. He followed my line of sight, then back to me.

“Orange juice would be nice.”

Five minutes later, I bring back one of those small bottles, one for him, one for me kind of deal.

“Let’s make a toast.”

“To?”

“I don’t know.” I hesitate, looking down at my bottle. “To life. Trying to stay in it longer…I guess.” He’s quiet for a while, where it made me question whether my action was overdoing it, overstepping a line. But then he looks up at me from the curb. His shoelaces are untied. Taehyung lifts his bottle to touch mine.

“I can toast to that.”

I continued to follow him, like how a planet revolves around the Sun. He was always there, and never faded from sight, no matter how low the probability was that I would ever say anything to him about the matter of my heart. I had bigger issues to deal with by then, that being my senior year.

My friends were nice, but they didn’t understand what was happening to me. To put it quite frankly, I hated myself. To the point where my fridge was usually empty, with the exception of a box of cherry plums. I hardly looked at my mirror, and my apartment was mostly dark. The windows were usually closed, I didn’t like the light. And my bed was never made, mostly because I stayed in bed all the time. It was a struggle to wake up to go to class, and even more so to do my work and keep up with whatever social life I had.

Again, they didn’t understand, but they gave me more peace than I could’ve imagined. They didn’t understand, but they never forced me to be way out of my normal just for their sake. To this day, even as I think about this, I couldn’t have been more blessed to have such a group of friends who didn’t pressure me for ghosting them on days on end, forgetting to respond to their texts because I was locked away in my own darkness. They only encouraged me to do the bare minimum, remember to take a shower, make sure there’s some food in my fridge.

The time I did go out to meet them, it was at Taehyung’s apartment. His place smelled woody, like a grown up, which I realized we were at this point. Most of them had plans for the future laid out. I still felt like I was the train wreck from freshman year, which was yet another one of my problems which I didn’t want to address.

There were about ten of us in the room, and it was a warm May night, which made the apartment heat up. I hated that I wore long sleeves especially for this, even though it’s all I ever wore. Most of them were extremely drunk by the time I arrived. The reason I stayed as long as I did because Taehyung’s eyes brightened when he opened the door to my face. It was nice that his face still had the same effect on me as it did all those other times. One thing remained unchanged. As soon as I stepped inside, he handed me a cup filled with orange juice.

“I was hoping you would show.”

“Me too.” I told him. It made me wonder in awe how he was able to keep up with this life so effortlessly. For me, it was immensely difficult, everything felt like a chore. The only things that didn’t feel like a chore was laying in bed. Or talking to him.

I stayed there, listening to everyone talk until people began to head out one by one. I stayed until no one remained, where it was just him and I. This was different from the parking lot, but it felt the same. Just many, many months apart.

“We hardly see you anymore.”

“It’s hard.” I told him, which is what he probably expected me to say. “I don’t think anyone sees me anymore. Not even my professors.” That caused his lips to rise a little, and he took a sip from his cup.

I asked him where his bathroom is, and he pointed to the left. Excusing myself, I locked myself inside. Even the bathroom smelled like him, there was a shelf filled with his bathroom materials. There was no mirror in there, the bathroom was small so there wasn’t any room for a sink. My head tingled like I was dizzy. It was either the orange juice, or the fact that the orange juice is the only thing I had at all that day. I assumed it was the latter, and opened the door. This time, Taehyung greeted me by the mirror, staring at his own reflection. He was adjusting his hair. It still looked nice.

I rolled up my sleeves to wash my hands. The silence was comforting with him, his dark eyes watching me pretty blatantly. Then he leaned against the wall. I realized he was staring at my hands. I quickly dried my hands.

“It was a cat.” I said to him. “Scratched me.”

He nodded, then looked at me again. “Your cat?”

“Yeah.” Nodding, I glanced down at my sleeves. “I forgot to cut her claws.”

“That must’ve hurt, then.”

I was silent. Because I realized he doesn’t believe my lies. And I hated how nice he continued to be despite that, I hated how much of a good person he can still be despite of everything he deals with. Him and I are the same yet he’s so put together and I am an absolute mess.

“It did.” I whispered. “It hurt a lot.”

“Does she scratch you often?”

“Not often.” I stared at the sink bowl. “But sometimes.”

He took a calculated step forward. “Do you know why?”

“I guess I make her angry, sometimes.”

“About?”

By now, I couldn’t look him in the eye, or even myself in the mirror, so I stare at the sink, feeling the tears pool on my cheeks. “Everything. Just everything.”

Taehyung watched me cry silently. We didn’t exchange many words after that, and just stood there in each other’s presence. That was the tipping point for me. I realized how I was feeling wasn’t normal, and that I should see someone to talk about my feelings. And that’s when I met Yoongi, my therapist.

Taehyung was mentioned a lot in our sessions. My feelings for him, everything we used to talk about. Yoongi helped me work through my trauma and hatred for myself. Made me realize why I was so insecure. Taught me how to be nicer to myself. Taught me how to love myself. I started leaning away from the cat excuse. He was amazing and he saved my life. He’s still my therapist to this day. I’m not as messed as I used to be, but sometimes the thoughts still linger.

There was a point in my recovery where the flowers began to bloom again. The Sun shone brighter for me, and I began to see colors again. A couple years after my graduation, which was when I met Jungkook.

He was a breath of fresh air. I used to be so scared of being unlovable, but it was like those thoughts disappeared when he showed up. Unlike anything I had ever read or experienced in my life, he managed to sweep me off of my feet. He was sweet, considerate, and his smile was contagious. He was younger than me by a year, but somehow his entire presence made me feel like I aged back years. That was just his effect. He seemed to shine inside and out.

Perhaps it was that I learned how to love myself, that I was able to show this love now for other people. Jungkook received it well, and returned it back to me like a boomerang. He soon became my first everything. And soon to be my last everything.

I didn’t think about Taehyung much once Jungkook became one of the closest people to me in my life. I didn't have to anymore, because he used to be my Sun. Now I had finally learned how to be my own center, so the darker days started to drift away as I became happier. And Jungkook was a huge reason to that happiness, so I had no reason to. He made my heart full.

But like all things that are pushed away, like my unresolved feelings that I shut off for many years, he returned many years later, on a warm summer evening. He was there with Jungkook and I at a fancy hall down in the city. Not just him, but many of my other friends, who were eager to see me. Jungkook was preoccupied with a couple of his old friends from college, so I was left alone for a moment. That was when we met again.

“Y/N.”

The first thing I noticed was his curly hair. It felt bittersweet, how some things refused to change. He was dressed in a dark blue suit, and a baby blue tie that matched the color code of the event. I felt a smile spread across my lips, it was both of surprise, but also of pain. Seeing him again…reminded me of a lot of things.

“What a lovely surprise!”

He smiles at me, then wraps an arm around me for a quick embrace. “It is an important occasion.” He glances over at Jungkook who is several feet away. Jungkook seems to catch my gaze, for he glances over and gives me one of his familiar grins. “Which by the way,” Taehyung adds. “Congratulations again.”

“Thank you.” I’m still watching him socialize with his old friends, then I look back to Taehyung. “It’s been a long time since we last spoke.”

If I’m not mistaken, my response causes some pain in his eyes. His smile doesn’t betray it, and he glances away once to the champagne table to try and disguise it. “I would think that we are very different people now, right?” I hate that I understand what he’s really trying to ask underneath that. I nod once, letting the smile fade. He reminds me too much of my painful days. The longer I continue to stand in his cinnamon cologne, the harder it gets for me to breathe. Jungkook saves me at that moment, and he smiles at Taehyung.

“Y/N, there’s someone I want you to meet.” I let him usher me off without a farewell to Taehyung. Not like I could’ve mustered much anyways. I felt like I was choking on flowers. The kind that smelt like him. It felt nice seeing him again after so long, but it also pained me. I didn’t like that it pained me, I felt guilty, Taehyung had never hurt me in any way. I still hoped I wouldn’t run into him alone that evening. My prayers were left unanswered, later that night, Jungkook fell asleep on me in the hotel, while my eyelids were struggling to close. It was the night before everything changed, it’s a big deal. I really wondered how he could sleep like a rock. All of the socializing must have worn him out. I found myself entering the lobby of the hotel for a change of scenery.

I recognized the fluffy mop of curly hair outside of the hotel lobby, with a trail of smoke following him. It probably wasn’t in my best interests to go out there, but I did.

“I didn’t realize you were at the hotel too.”

“Well, most of us are.” Taehyung comments, then looks up at me from the bench. “You booked this place for everyone.”

“Right.” I nod. “Some of the details the planner takes care of, so I guess it flew over my head.”

“He seems like a great guy.” Taehyung tells me. “You never gave much details to any of us.” He mentions our friend circle but I realize he’s just talking about himself mostly. I sit down next to him.

“I started going to therapy towards the end of college. My therapist — he’s great. He, he helped through so many of my problems. I didn’t realize how much I needed it after our conversation in your apartment, actually.” Taehyung smiles, it seems that he remembered. “After working on myself a lot, I finally learned how to love other people, and receive it in return. That’s how I found Jungkook. I like that our relationship is relatively private. I still get insecure from time to time, despite working on it…so I just choose to keep the most precious things to me private. I don’t want to know what other people think of him and of us.”

Taehyung stays quiet for a while, and during that time I watch the way the smoke from his cigarette dissipates into the air.

“Does he know?”

“Yeah.” I let out a small breath. It pains me that I know what he means of immediately. “He told me he wished he had known me back then.” I smiled to myself. “It’s not like he could have done anything. The me back then was very un-receiving to help.”

Taehyung nods to this, like he agrees. “I was like him.”

I still at this, waiting for him to continue. The silence that follows already explains a lot, but I need him to speak to confirm what I think he’s saying.

“As a friend, there was only so much we could do for you, Y/N. Making sure you took a shower, that you ate. We always felt like we were overstepping boundaries if we got too involved in your life.” He hesitates when he says the next part. “But part of me…part of me thought that if I,”

I can see that he is struggling to say the words. I know why he is — he’s treading so close to the line that we used to be at for years, but now he threatens to actually cross it, to break it.

“If you?”

“If I had been more than a friend,” He continues. “Maybe things would have been different for you. Easier for you.”

“I never realized you felt that way.” I said to him, it surprised me how easy the words came out. “For most of college, being friends with you was the only thing keeping me going.”

“It’s nice to know that even despite that, you still found your way.” Taehyung says, and smiles at me. He’s smiling, but I can see the clear pain in his eyes. He doesn’t really try to hide it either, which makes it worse.

The words he said after made it hard for me to breathe, so much so that I spent the rest of my night holding back the tears in my chest. Not just for myself or him, but just everything. My friends noticed that something was off with me the following morning, but didn’t ask - knowing well I wouldn’t tell them the real reason.

I couldn’t stop thinking about his words, and it made me feel so guilty walking down the aisle, and staring at the man that I vowed to spend my life with. I recited them word for word, but my head was elsewhere, still stuck on what Taehyung had said to me.

“Do you ever wonder?” He had asked me.

The way Jungkook smiles at me usually gives me butterflies. But right now, I feel so guilty that I want to hurl.

“I used to wonder all the time.” I told him. “I always wondered what could have happened if I had said something.”

“I just wonder,” He stares up at the sky. “I wonder if I had said something, whether that would still be the same man who had given you that ring.”

When the ceremony closes, Jungkook’s lips meet mine. I’m so in love with this man, so it revolts me how a mere conversation can shake me up so terribly. I’m so incredibly stunned with my own emotions and how they’ve swayed me incredibly. I know if Jungkook were to ever know how I was feeling right now, it would break his heart. He would be devastated. Because I am in myself right now.

My eyes meet Taehyung’s one last time in the crowd. He wears a gentle smile, like how he always used to whenever he saw. It makes me sick to the stomach how much his short words impacted me. I hate how sick I feel. Because I know deep down that he was right. Had he said anything, had I said anything…there would have been someone completely different standing on that aisle.

“So yeah,” Taehyung had looked at me wistfully. “That’s what I used to think about.” He got up. “I should probably get some sleep. Early day tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow.” I had told him, eyes planted to the floor. I couldn’t move. He neared the door, about to open it, when he paused.

“And Y/N?”

“Mm?” I forced myself to look away from the concrete.

“Sorry I didn’t say something sooner.”

#kim taehyung #taehyung #Taehyung oneshot #taehyung x reader #bts angst #taehyung angst #right person wrong time

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camgoloud · 1 year

Text

a couple days ago the lovely @nancywheeeler tagged me to do an ao3 wrapped here! i have had a Very busy weekend so i am only now getting to actually posting, but here are my belated responses:

Works published: 5 at the moment (with at least 2 more i’ll be putting up before the end of the year; possibly one or two more than that if i can get my act together and finish up the treat(s) i’ve been chipping away at in exchange to my main assignments in a couple holiday exchanges. busy end of the year for me!)

Words written: 41510 posted this year so far—more than i thought!

Hits: 3647 on my 2022 fics

Bookmarks: 118

Most popular by kudos: Do my friends think I’m dying? (or do I just need to go to sleep?), my singular to-date contribution to the ted lasso/colin hughes fandom and first foray into redditfic (which by the way was SUCH a blast to write that i think i’m going to have to do it again sometime soon. i ought to be more sorry about that than i am)

Most hits: look at the desperate man (omg rip to this fic... worked on it for a little bit this summer when i was feeling particularly angsty about Some Stuff i was dealing with. ran out of angst steam halfway through the final chapter because my life improved lol, got re-possessed by various locked tomb wips around nona release day, and now i kind of just don’t ever want to look at it anymore. maybe i’ll finish it someday?)

Longest: same as previous

Shortest: shovel talk (in f major) (most of which was hurriedly written in one day as a last-hurrah before nona came out to smash my entire life into bits!)

Most comments: inside problems which people have been VERY nice to me about agghhhh

Fic that made me cry: any discussion about the fics that did maximum emotional damage to me MUST mention syntheseas’ INCREDIBLY ambitious and well-written nothing but dark and sound, which i reread following its most recent update. if you’re a locked tomb fan and you’re not already keeping up with this fic... well you need to be. basically. shoutout also to @forjodssake’s feeling good was easy when he sang the blues, which i just read this thursday and have STILL not recovered from—AMAZING character work!!!

Fic that made me smile: so many! but my favorite comfort read for the last year and change has been @nancywheeeler‘s four weddings and no funeral. melts my heart every time! cannot recommend highly enough :)

Gifts: does this mean gifts given or gifts received? unclear. anyway in terms of gifts given—do my friends think i’m dying was my tribute to @nancywheeeler‘s excellent good old-fashioned lover boy, and i’ve got exchange fics i’ll be posting for a few people shortly. for gifts received, there’s whatever comes out of those exchanges!

Collaborations: none this year—or ever before, actually! BUT i am very very interested in the prospect… 👀 friends/mutuals/likeminded individuals active in any of my fandoms, if you’ve ever got an Idea you want to bang on about together or are particularly interested in fleshing out any of the half-formed Concepts i toss out into the void, hit me up and maybe we can make something happen! (well, hit me up whenever my dms are working again, anyway… the shadowban glitch which i’ve been living under for going on a MONTH now is a curse upon this earth)

Events taken part in: yuletide 2022, and the 2022 locked tomb holiday exchange!

thanks again em for the tag! in turn i will tag @aberfaeth, @rnanqo, @palamedes-sextus, and anyone else who’s interested! (and who actually sees this—unsure if any of you will get a notification when i post this, due to the aforementioned shadowban :/)

#tag game #my writing

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catb-fics · 2 years

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I have a story request/suggestion! So from catb's music, I have noticed a pattern in Van's attitude when it comes to relationships based from the lyrics. In my own understanding he's the type of guy that loves pretty heavily (or even "deadly" as he once said in an interview).

"i'd rather go blind than let you down"

And we all kinda know his dream of being a dad and starting his own family.

"i don't wanna picture our first born if you've stopped discussing names with me"

However, it also appears that our boy's not that good when it comes to communicating.

"i love you but i need another year alone/another minute to myself"

"offer you everything and never pull through"

and of course, fallout...

So as a masochist myself, I keep on imagining a story where Van McCann met this new girl (Y/N - that somehow started working with the band) and he's been trying so hard to resist her for whatever reason (maybe he can't handle relationships very well while on tour and there's also conflict with the band that he's having a hard time resolving - he's keeping the band together so he cannot afford to be distracted at this point).

So basically, their relationship was kinda push and pull, one step forward and two steps back kinda thing... there's obviously angst innit... Then at some point where the Female Lead (FL) was convinced that Van's also into her and cares deeply for her, there comes a major problem with the band... So the fallout I had in mind was Van started hooking up with a random girl one night after a failed show/gig and FL came to talk him out of it. Van said some nasty words as he was very much drunk and even made out w/ a random girl in front of FL. (But there can be other scenarios too that will lead to their fallout, as long as i'll end up bawling my eyes after reading it then i'm good!)

And of course, our boy, Van McCann will regret it deeply. So he grovels to get the FL back... But he'll spend years searching for her first... (We'll want massive grovelling and plot twists too but hopefully a happy ending also!)

So that's it!!! This is my first time requesting for a story but I am heavily invested with this band and I miss them so much 🥹🥹🥹

(I don't even know if you'll read this since it's pretty lengthy but thank you!!! 💗)

Oh wow I love this and I love how detailed it is, thank you so much! I would be honoured to write this but I’m not sure I can start yet another long story WIP right now- however I started a story called Teach Me ages ago (I’m not sure if you read it, I kind of ran out of steam with it and abandoned it but it’s on Wattpad) but I think I could actually incorporate all of this into that story and pick it back up again - what do you think? Van in that one was going to be very much avoidant of long-term relationships until he met someone who turned his life upside down - but yeah lots of angsty stuff I love that! And I agree I think he falls hard and fast with the best intentions but I think he’s struggled with commitment in the past due to him sacrificing everything for the band 😭

And thank you for sending me this 💗 xxxx

#request #teach me

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noa-ciharu · 2 years

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003 for both Subaru and Kamui??? 💕💕

YES! Two sad gay disasters i LOVE them <3

I’ll skip fave friendship one because I’ll put that under favorite non-romantic relationships.

Subaru:

How I feel about this character: sad little unfixable man. Every character ever is getting character development, he got character regression (joking obvs since his whole character is based on tragedy where he can't break free from self-destructive patterns and see worth in himself; nonexistent coping mechanisms 😞). I like how complex/human he is. That part of how his innocence was ripped away from him and how he entered adulthood broken and lonely - it hits too hard. I love how despite everything he's been through he's still kind and considerate (I'd say put others before himself but that one turned pathological in his case). For example, when he was blinded Subaru's priority was to comfort Kamui and explain how none of it is his fault - all while bleeding to death pretty much. My new OTP: Subaru and therapy! (Unrealistic)

Any/all the people I ship romantically with this character: I used to ship him with Seishirou only but now I ship him with Kamui too. Beside that, I'm rarely strictly against ship so any reasonable ship with another male would be okayish to me I guess?

My favorite non-romantic relationship for this character: ofc Hokuto! I love how she grounds his worries and reminds Subaru to take care of himself. Also Subaru totally needs someone cheerful and bubbly like that to bring him out of his blues from time to time (that thing with Yuzuruha in hospital scene in X was cute also, but I feel like Subaru was far too gone by that point to be 'brought out of misery' via cheerfulness). If we're not shipping him with Kamui then their friendship too.

My unpopular opinion about this character: I think I mentioned this before but I like his clothing style in X? It’s significantly toned down from some of his outfits in TB. And that’s the whole point - he doesn’t want to stand out and probably feels more comfortable ‘in the shadows’ like that. Also his selflessness and self-sacrifice in TB is certainly praise-worthy but it also pathological? One thing is to empathize with other’s pain, but quite another to feel that amount of pain and wish to help others at cost of your own wellbeing (allowed to be attacked/injured few times, wanted to donate a kidney to boy he met day ago, self-neglect etc.). Yet even if selflessness is his major trait, he certainly possesses ability to be selfish and ‘less than pure’ (and that’s good!). Similarly Subaru does have a backbone and won’t back down when something isn’t right with him. Just unfortunately has critically low self-value and rarely, if ever, fights for himself 😥 It’s always for someone/something else.

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon: therapy I wish we got to see some of Subaru during 9 years time skip. How did his wish change into suicidal one? When did he realize he’s “sick in the heart” as he put it? What about cigs? Gradually getting more and more distant? When did anger subdue? Wish we got vol or two separate manga on that period. Also Sakurazukamori!Subaru, so want to see how he handles being an assassin and if he’s more well put than prior to Seishirou’s death (or if he got even worse). Also I wish we got a longer fighting scene between him and Seishirou, filled with tension and more angst (but X is shojo and all fighting scenes are actually hella short). Also his ceremonial robes 🥺

My crossover ship: I think Sakurazukamori!Subaru and TRC!Seishirou meeting in X!Tokyo would make an interesting and angsty fic. TB!Subaru and X!Kamui would make a cute (and blushing) combo - and we already have them in Horitsuba. They’d hold hand and blush to point of passing out pretty much. As for friendships, I think Subaru and Watanuki would get along. Also in TRC if vampire twins were to meet again (under more calm circumstances) with main gang, I believe Subaru would get along with them instantly. Kamui tho, he’d need time to get domesticated but would accept them eventually (after Kurogane calls him out on being a hissing cat most likely).

Kamui:

How I feel about this character: he gradually became one of my fav clamp characters; second actually after Subaru. I like how confused he is about world around him and himself and character shift he undergoes through. At first he was lashing out in misguided attempt to protect not only those he cares about, but himself as well (still, I like what little fierce brat he was, bc his actions did make perfect sense considering his background). Then after tragedy struck, instead of fighting recklessly he seals the holy sword and seeks answers instead. He softens from all hardships, matures and begins forming connections with others instead of pushing people away. Truly an unique character arc since most of protagonists go in reverse. Also how Clamp made him so goddamn beautiful like that, I have no idea.

Any/all the people I ship romantically with this character: I ship him mostly with Fuuma and Subaru. Since X is basically Kamui and people who got to caress his cheek and pat his hair, I suppose I wouldn’t mind ship with Keiichi or some other male character. That puppy crush thing with Kotori was cute but idk, I have hard time picturing anything more serious than that between them. I honestly doubt anyone ships them for real tho. I know half of Clamp's characters are bi but I have hard time picturing Kamui with a woman tbh

My favorite non-romantic relationship for this character: friendship he has with Seals (mainly Sorata, Yuzuriha) and one with Keiichi. He seems draw towards cheerful optimistic sun-type of people - they can lift his mood up at least. Same as above, if we’re not shipping them, then Kamui’s friendship with Subaru.

My unpopular opinion about this character:I don’t think he’s weak at all? Emotionally I mean (bc he’s physically OP, a god basically). Yes he grieves, he angsts and regrets things but considering all traumas and hardships he’s been through that’s all to be expected. Take TB!Subaru for example and try to place him in Kamui’s place - he wouldn’t be able to take it imo (bc of self-destructive amount of empathy and self-blaming tendencies; Kamui has them too but when something bad happens Kamui thinks of himself as incompetent, not a bad person). Excluding that one time after Fuuma’s ‘betrayal’ and Kotori’s death when he had nothing to live for, Kamui managed to push himself over every highly traumatic thing (sometimes with little help of others). Tho, whatever his real wish is there is a very good reason why Kamui is unaware of it; it’s probably ego-dystonic to him and he subconsciously rejects it. Also once saw people bashing on TRC!Kamui for attacking main crew and almost murdering Syaoran but? I think his actions were reasonable considering: what type of world acid Tokyo is (short on resources), Subaru being asleep underwater and Kamui wanting to wake him up asap, main crew are strangers to him, Seishirou potentially catching up with them etc.

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon: clamp let him have one angst free day plz beside obvious X ending I wish we got to see more mundane carefree moments with Seals. Of course, X isn’t that sort of manga so we should count our blessings that we were given at least some cute moments between Seals (such as friendship between Sorata and Kamui (how Sorata said Kamui would be great housewife and Kamui just, didn’t react 🤣) or one with Yuzuriha (that cookie scene 🥺)). Beside that, I wish he’d just sit down and talk with Fuuma. No fighting and stabbing (not even homoerotic one, it'd serve as distraction), no shouting, no omission or double meanings - just honest (and probably angsty) conversation. But I feel like that would solve the apocalypse so it’s understandable something like that didn’t happen.

My crossover ship: same as above, X!Kamui and TB!Subaru would make a cute pair; two blushing idiots in love and neither knows how to make a move - sign me the fuck up. TRC!Kamui (yes, that feisty one) and X!Fuuma after his transformation would be fire 🔥😈 They’d argue, fight (TRC!Kamui would sooo fight back instantly, might even attack first), then make-out furiously. Fic material honestly. Since Kamui has no idea how to handle overly eager people, for friendship I suggest Tomoyo. She’ll put those cat ears on him under 5 mins. Similarly if Hokuto was alive in X she’d so dote on him and Kamui would have no clue how to handle that since he’s bad with overly eager people. She’d rope him into one of her creations 300%

Original ask

#thanks for ask!#as you can see i talk too much #x/1999 #subaru sumeragi #kamui shirou

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