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icequeenoriginal · 4 years ago

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What if you made a fanfic where bowceit puts a spell on roman where roman sees bowceit as virgil and virgil as bowceit

Author’s Note: I am so so so so so so so sorry. You asked this over a year ago, maybe longer but I got so distracted that I did not get to it until now. I was never going to abandon this, even if the AU is basically over. I hope it was worth the wait. I love the prompt by the way.

Mario AU belongs to @sugarglider-s

A03 link

Warning: Brainwashing, mistaken identity, misunderstanding, fighting, villain but sympathetic Deceit, crying, yelling (Let me know if I missed anything)

Pairings: Prinxiety and Logicality

Title: The Original is Always Better

It was supposed to be a fun day.

It was rare for Patton’s and Roman’s free days to line up with one another, even rarer for Patton’s, Logan’s, Virgil’s, and Roman’s free days to line up but on a Saturday at the end of the month, the stars finally aligned for such a thing to occur. They would have to thanks Remy next time they see him.

Patton had come up with an idea for them to have a picnic on Emile’s island. They could make a whole trip out of it. They could visit Emile, swim in the ocean, lay on the beach.

“That sounds like a perfect idea dear,” Logan replied, which made Patton smile and blush.

Roman nodded, “I can bring my beach ball, I haven’t used it in ages!”

“Could be nice to get some sun for once,” Virgil added.

And so the day was set, they would leave before sunrise in Patton’s pink plane. That way they could get as much of the day in as possible and a certain snake wouldn’t see them leaving the Mushroom Kingdom.

Patton and Logan spent the day before preparing the food as well as packing. Roman and Virgil meanwhile, came up with games as they packed.

It was going to be a great day.

Keyword: Was.

As the main four were happily planning their getaway, Bowciet was sulking in his throne room, nothing his servants weren’t used to.

He had suffered another bitter defeat by the Sarcastic Brothers. Plan after plan, he could never win. He would get so close and those annoying jumping brothers would always stupidly find a way to beat him.

And the worst part? After they were rescued, the princes would go on and on about how they were so happy that they were saved by their wonderful boyfriends.

“What do those princes even see in those two lowlife peasants plumbers anyway?!” Bowciet exclaimed.

“Because they’re cool?” A Gomba suggested.

“Because they are kind?” A Koopa offered.

“Because they don’t kidnap them?” A hammer bro adds.

Bowciet growled and blew fire at them, making them run out of the room in pain and fear. Bowciet slumps back into his chair.

What his minions said was absolutely ridiculous. They were completely not cool, cool people do not ruin the plans of a king! They were both a four at best and they weren’t THAT strong. Logan could jump pretty high sure, but he was as boring as a textbook. How could Prince Patton ever be attracted to that? And Virgil, an anxious freak who jumps at his own shadow, Roman likes that?

Bowceit knew he would be a much better match for the princes but they never give him a chance to prove it. They usually turn their back to him when he puts them in their cells and ignores him. How rude of them.

No matter how many presents and compliments he gives, they never give him a chance. Roman even had to gall say they both could not stand the sight of him.

Wait.

They could not stand the sight of him.

But they could stand the sight of those plumbers.

Bowciet smirked, his newest plan was forming in his mind.

He summoned a Magikoopa to his throne room.

“Yes, your majesty?” The Magikoopa said as it entered the room.

“I need you to make me a spell, as quickly as possible.”“What kind, your majesty?”Bowceit smirked, “Illusion”

As much as Virgil hates getting out of bed early, and boy does he hate it, he was very happy to find out that the seats on Patton’s plane leaned as flatly as possible. He sleeps through the entire plane ride with Roman run his fingers through his hair. Virgil breathes in Roman’s scent. He smells like the flowers in his garden and the tea he makes. Mainly honeysuckle and strawberry, it causes Virgil to dream of running through the fields with Roman. It is them alone, with only the flower-covered valleys and the warm sun.

In his dream, Roman’s smile rivals the sun, as if it doesn’t do that in the real world. Dream Roman runs a bit of head, a gap is starting to form between them. It made Virgil a bit nervous but Roman only looks over his shoulder and smiles. “Follow me!” Dream Roman shouts happily, “Don’t stop following me.”“Never” Virgil whispers.After a few more minutes of Virgil chasing Dream Roman, Dream Roman stops and stands in the middle of the endless field.

Virgil stops a few feet behind him and pants, trying to catch his breath. Dream Roman turns to face him and lifts up Virgil’s chin gently. Virgil blushes and Dream Roman smiles at him.

Dream Roman smiles back and says, “It’s time to wake up Virgil.”

The dream ends as Virgil begins to blink, he feels someone is shaking him awake. He turns to the source of the shaking before immediately freezing when seeing how close Roman’s face is to his.

It did not matter that this was how Virgil normally wakes up, Roman always makes him freeze with how beautiful he is. Virgil can’t help himself as he scans every feature of Roman’s face as if he was seeing Roman for the first time.

Roman smiles softly at him, flashing his pearly white teeth, “Hey sleepyhead, we are here.”

Virgil nods quickly, face completely red with blush. “T-Thanks Ro.”

Roman kisses his forehead before pulling him up and out of his seat. Virgil can barely keep up as Roman runs out of the plane, having to hold down his hat as they go.

Virgil has to squint when the light suddenly hits his eyes. Once his eyes adjust, he gasps at the sight in front of him. The beach sand is crystal white and very warm when Virgil touches it. The water is cyan blue, so clear that you can see the fish swim through it. The palm trees are ten times Virgil high with huge lush leaves. It wasn’t like Virgil hadn’t been to Emile’s island before but you don’t really have time to stop and smell the roses when an evil snake monster kidnaps your boyfriend.

Patton quickly rips off his shirt and jumps into the ocean to swim around, having changed into his swimsuit on the plane. Logan soon joins him, making sure to put out the picnic blanket and the picnic basket.

Virgil yawns, “I think I’m going to take another nap. The warm sand is just too tempting.”Roman giggles, “Okay then babe. I’m going to make a sandcastle next to you then.”Virgil had to physically stop himself from swooning. He knew that Roman had a bunch of stuff planned for them to do together and Virgil knew that Roman generally did not want to give up what he comes up with but he always does it for Virgil. Virgil is always his priority.

Virgil pulls Roman into a kiss before laying down.

Roman blushes, “What was that for?” Virgil wasn’t always one to initiate kisses.

Virgil covers his face with his hat to block out the sun and to hide his blush, “Just felt like it.”

Roman smiles at Virgil, his heart soaring with love for his boyfriend. Virgil always found a way to be sweet without trying. It was one of the things Roman loved about him.

Virgil woke up again to someone shaking him. This time it was his brother so Virgil was far less jumpy this time.

“What’s up, bro?” Virgil asked sleepily

“We are about to eat lunch and I figured you would want some,” Logan replies

“Lunchtime? How long have I been asleep?”

“You slept through the entire morning.”

“Did I miss anything?”“You missed Roman joining us in the ocean then he and Patton make this giant sandcastle,” Logan says as he points to a sandcastle that is about two stories tall. It looks like a miniature version of Patton’s castle except on the front, instead of a glass window with Patton holding a rose, it is a drawing of Patton and Roman made into the sand. Roman peeks his head out of the sand castle’s window and waves, “Virgil! My love! You are awake! Look what we made!”

Virgil’s eyes widen in shock at how big the castle is and how it can hold both Roman and Patton. Roman does not seem to notice this as he exits the sandcastle with Patton.

They all sit on the picnic blanket and Patton serves the food. They eat are given their favorite sandwiches and favorite kind of chips. Patton also packed potato and macaroni salad for them all to share.

“What do you guys want to do next?” Roman asks between bites.

“Hmm…Oh! What if we went for a walk around the island?” Patton suggests.

“That sounds absolutely wonderful Patton! I have been meaning to take note of the flowers around here to expand my garden!” Roman replies

Virgil snickers, “Do you even have any garden space left Princey?”

Roman waves him off, “I can just start a fourth garden.”“FOURTH?!”

“Instead of debating Roman’s plant obsession, we should finish our lunch so we can begin our walk,” Logan says while waving his hand to silence his brother and his brother’s boyfriend.

The other three nod in agreement and eat their food in relative silence.

Once they pack up their things and changed on Patton’s plane, the four head deeper into the island. They pass by plants and bushes that are twice their size but they oddly seem to be walking on a mostly clear path. Roman runs a bit ahead, hardly able to contain his squeals as he sees all the plants in front of him. He scribes a quick drawing of them into his little orange notebook. Virgil is standing next to him, holding his umbrella and smiling at his boyfriend’s antics. He adored Roman’s passion and will do anything to not let that fire die.

Eventually, the four come across an empty field. It has patches of leaves all around it. They all look at one another, something feels off. It seemed too quiet, none of them were used to pure quiet.

Patton squats in front of one of the patches of leaves. “It looks like the bed Emile has.”

Logan nods “The Emiles must collect leaves and make beds that they sleep on.”

“Why aren’t any of them here?” Virgil asks, nervousness creeping into his voice.

“They might all be doing something right now.” Roman offers, hoping to calm his boyfriend.

No one else replied, there was no way it was something as simple as that, it never was. Patton moves to investigate another pile of leaves when it suddenly begins to shake. Before Patton can react, a Goomba jumps out, causing Patton to yelp. Patton falls on his back as the Goomba lands just by his head. Logan quickly stomps on it and helps Patton up.

Two dozen more Goomba jumps out from under the other piles of leaves surround the four of them. The four each take out six Goombas but don’t have time to celebrate when more of Bowceit’s minions surround them.

Roman bursts into laughter “No originality Bowceit? Oh well! I’m going to make this fun for me! Whoever defeats the most minions gets the first swing on Bowceit!”Logan, Virgil, and Patton all exchange a look before all smiling and nodding. Unbeknownst to them, Bowceit was smiling too, his plan was working exactly as he expected.

The four fought the Koopas, not noticing that they were being moved further and further away from each other. They push Logan and Virgil to one side of the field and Patton and Roman to the other side. Once they were where Bowceit wanted them, he sent Hammer Bros. towards them. They throw their hammers between the two groups, forcing all four of them to be on their own and surrounded by Koopas.

Bowceit smirks and walks out from behind the tree, receiving glares from all of them. “Well, well, well…look what the Koopas dragged in.”

All four of them groan, making Bowceit hiss at all of them. “Rude.”

“What do you want Bowceit, this time?” Logan says, annoyance and bitterness dripping from his mouth.

“Oh please Logan, as if you do not know,” Bowceit replies as he looks at his gloved fingers.

Logan rolls eyes, “Of course…well since you are up to your old tricks, I might as well use mine!” Logan then jumps up in the air, well over the enemies. He lands a punch square into Bowceit’s jaw. As the two begin to scuffle, Virgil takes out the Koopas on their side to go help Logan fight Bowceit.

On the other side, Roman starts to take out the Koopas near him. That is when he notices that the Koopas near him and Patton are running towards Virgil. Roman immediately feels suspicious. Bowceit normally sends the most amount of Koopas at Roman. He looks around and that’s when he spots it.

A magikoopa, directly diagonal from Patton waving its wand, ready to cast a spell. Roman runs to Patton as fast as he can.

“PATTON!” Roman yellsPatton turns to him confused, “Huh?!”The magikoopa fires the spell.

Roman shoves Patton out of the way and yells in pain as the spell hits him and knocks him to the ground.

“ROMAN!” Virgil shouts and jumps over the group of Koopas. Logan kicks Bowceit away from and turns to the group of Koopas, ready to take them out so they can’t stop Virgil. He pauses, confused when he sees that they are not following Virgil, just standing. Logan turns his head to Bowceit and sees him smirking.

Virgil quickly helps Roman up, “Ro! Are you alright?”

Roman blinks at him before grabbing his arm and throwing him across the field. Everyone but Bowceit freezes in shock. Virgil hits a tree and rubs the back of his head in confusion.”

Bowceit smiles, “Not the one I was intending,” Bowceit shrugs, “But I can’t complain!” Bowceit walks to Roman and smiles, opening his arms. “Excellent throw my dear”

Roman giggles and blushes. Bowceit takes cups his face and Roman leans into his touch, shattering Virgil’s heart.

Bowceit turns his head to Virgil with the evilest grin on his face as he carcasses Roman’s cheek.

Virgil went numb.

Virgil will be the first to admit he has a lot of fears. Some odd like jumping too high he gets lost in space and some serious like burning to death in lava. This, however, was worse than any fear of his.

Bowceit winning.

He had gotten one of the princes. His prince. His Princey. And Roman looked happy in his arms. Roman’s normally kind and playful grin was replaced by a devilish and evil grin. And his eyes…

Oh god, his eyes.

One thing Virgil loved to do was just stare into Roman’s eyes. Roman’s eyes are normally warm, brown, and playful. His eyes now…they were ice blue. Piercing ice blue that sent daggers into Virgil’s heart.

Bowceit picks up Roman bride style pulling the giggling prince close. Bowceit sends him a wink and runs off with Roman.

Logan, who has been frozen in shock the entire time, takes a step forward only to have to dodge a hammer throw at his head. Logan narrows his eyes at them but something purple catches his eyes.

Logan sees his brother shaking, on the verge of tears. Logan is livid. He jumps up and stomps down hard on two Goombas. He angrily but silently takes out the rest of Bowceit’s minion in the area. Logan is panting by the time he is finished but ignores it to run over and check on Virgil.

Virgil clings onto his brother as he tries to get himself to breathe. This was not the time to panic, but it was also the perfect time to panic. Did this have to be Virgil’s life right now?

It took a while but Virgil was finally able to get his breathing normal enough to think straight. Patton made sure to give him a big hug just to make sure.

“Okay, okay,” Virgil pulls away from him “So what the heck just happened?!”“Language!” Patton shouted. Just because it is a stressful situation does not mean he will be allowed to curse.

Virgil blinked at him before shaking his head, “What happened to Roman?”

Logan pauses for a moment before replying, “Clearly, he has been brainwashed in some way. Most likely by whatever that spell was.”

“Right, right, great, great! Now how do we fix it?!” Virgil asks, already feeling his panic returning.

“Well, it’s a spell, right? We need to find a magikoopa,” Logan offered.

Virgil nods, “Right, right. That makes sense. Of course, it makes sense. Is it always this hard to breathe?” Virgil says as he pants.

Patton pats his back as Virgil tries again to catch his breath.

Logan puts his hands on Virgil’s shoulders, “Virgil. You are my brother. I will do anything for you. I will get Roman back.”

Virgil smiles and puts his hand on one of Logan’s hands, “Thanks bro, now let’s go kick some magikoopa butt!”

~Roman laughs as “Virgil” carries him through the island. “Virgil” jumped through the air, making Roman hold onto him tightly.

This was surprising to Roman. Virgil was never this energetic after a fight Bowceit. Though, to be fair to him, this time did not require traveling through nine different worlds to get to said fight.

Roman was happy about this small change. Normally his poor stormcloud would be too drained to want to do anything but cuddle in their shared bed. Roman wouldn’t mind if it was because Virgil enjoyed it, he minded that it was the only thing his love could physically do that did not strain his body.

Well, now was not the time to think about that. Now was the time to admire “Virgil’s” jumping skills. He knew both Logan and Virgil hated their jumping ability but that did not make it any less impressive. Though, Roman did think it was odd that “Virgil” seemed to land so loudly. He figured Virgil would be the lightest on his feet, after Patton and him of course. You can’t spend your youth dancing and not be.

Roman had no time to think about it as he gasps, nearly jumping out of “Virgil’s” arm. “Virgil” stops moving to prevent Roman from falling out of his arms.

“Stop! Stop here!” Roman demands.

Bowceit raises an eyebrow, “Why?”

“Look at those flowers!” Roman untangles himself from “Virgil’s” arms and motions to the flower field in front of him, “I have never seen such amazing and huge flowers!”

Bowceit would admit that the flowers in question were…okay looking. They were very tall with bright pink flower petals. The petals were very vibrant pink with white accents. Bowceit feels his piranha plants were much nicer.

“We have to see more of it!” Roman shouts as he points to the field.

“Maybe later, I have something much more fun in mind.”

Bowceit had a plan. He would convince Roman to come back to his castle and marry “Virgil”.

“What could be more fun than this?” Roman asked perplexed. What could be more them than running through a flower field and fall into each other’s arms only to stay there and watch the sunset?

“Well I was thinking we could go to Bowceit’s castle–” Bowceit begins only for Roman to cut him off.

“Pffft, we spend enough time there, too much time in my opinion,” Roman says with a laugh.

Bowceit did his best to hide his annoyance with that statement. The spell may make him look and sounds like Virgil but unless he acted Virgil, there was a chance Roman could peek through.

“Yeah but you knocked him out, maybe we could trash the place?”

Roman made a very perplexed face and Bowceit sucked in his breath. After a few moments, Roman bursts into laughter. “We do that too much too. Come onnnn, please?”

“I just…had a funny prank idea we could pull on him!” “Virgil pushed.

“I promise we can do that next time but when are we going to have a quiet moment and who knows how long these flowers again?”Bowceit did not have time for this. Another problem with the spell was that it only lasted until the sun went down. That is what he gets for rushing the creation of the spell but he wanted this done today. So much for being eager.

How would Virgil react to Roman’s begging? He knew virtually nothing about the younger plumber due to not caring to. The only thing he knew was he got upset easily which either led to tears or him getting punched in the face by the purple plumber.

He did once overhear Roman describing a painting Virgil apparently did for him to Patton when they were both in his dungeon but he doubted it could help him in this situation. Unless…

“Alright, but just long enough for me to get a…drawing in,” “Virgil” replies, almost hesitantly.

Luckily for him, Roman’s pleading face morphs into a soft accepting smile, “Of course dear. Then we can do whatever you want afterward.”

Bowceit smirks, “Excellent.”~

A magikoopa was flying peacefully when a green shell suddenly came flying at it. The magikoopa had no time to react before it was knocked right off of its broom and falls to the ground.

The magikoopa screams as it went tumbling to the ground. It hit the ground with a thud and it grips its head in pain.

Once its vision cleared, it gasps as it sees it is surrounded by a very angry Virgil, Logan, and Patton. All three of their arms are crossed and they are glaring daggers into the magikoopa.

The magikoopa scrambles onto its butt as it looks at the trio, absolutely terrified. Before it can try to escape, Virgil grabs it by the robe and drags it to make it face to face with him.

It squeaks, “Don’t hurt me! I didn’t do anything wrong!”

Virgil growls out, “You were there! You cast a spell on Roman! Now tell me what you did to him!”

As Virgil is talking, Logan walks around him to be behind the magikoopa. “Just so you know, Patton and I won’t hold him back.”

“In fact, we will help,” Patton says, his voice sounding like a horror movie villain.

The magikoopa began to sweat profusely. “It-it was an illusion spell!” it squeaks out.

“What kind of illusion spell?” Virgil asks, tightening his grip on the Magikoopa’s robe.

“It made Bowceit look like you and you look like Bowceit to Prince Roman! If it hit Prince Patton, it would have done the thing to Logan!”

“That must be why Roman attacked you when you touched him,” Logan says as he rubs his chin in thought.

“Alright so now tell us how to break the spell!” Virgil shouts.

“I am not telling you anything!” the magikoopa says, acting as if its voice was not completely shaky.

However, before Virgil could do anything, Patton rips the magikoopa away from him.

Patton glares at the magikoopa with nothing but malice with his eyes. “You are going to tell him so we can save my best friend or you are going to deal with me,”

“Like you can hurt a fly!” The magikoopa barks at Patton.

“I only hurt those who deserve it, and you for one, deserve a lot.” Patton throws the magikoopa to the ground in anger. He pulls out his umbrella and swings it down on the magikoopa.

“WAIT!” the magikoopa screams.

Patton stops just as the umbrella is about to hit him. “Yes?”“I’ll tell you everything! I swear!” the magikoopa pleads, getting on its hands and knees.

“Then start talking,” Patton says with a glare.

“There is no way to break the spell!” Patton winds up to swing again.

“BUT! THERE’S A BUT!” the magikoopa “The spell will end when the sun goes down! His plan is to marry the prince before then as you!”

“Anything else?” Patton asks

“Bowceit Jr. made me come up with a spell to make himself taller.” the magikoopa replies, looking down at the ground in shame before bursting into tears.

The three of them look at each other, very uncomfortable. They slowly back away from the crying magikoopa and head off to find Roman.

Roman had a great time in the flower field. He was able to collect some seeds of the flower and have a nice walk through the field with “Virgil”.

Though “Virgil” seemed to be awfully quiet, not having anything to say to him.

It strikes Roman as odd. Sure, Virgil was always one to keep to himself. When Roman would boast and brag to his Thomases and Talyns, Virgil would walk silently next to him with a smile on his face as he intently listens to whatever Roman has to say.

However, when they are alone, Virgil becomes the more talkative one. He would go on about his adventure with Logan, his ideas for songs, and anything that was on his mind.

Roman figures that something must be wrong. With him being uncharacteristically pushy earlier and with him not saying anything, there must be something going on in his mind.

“Mind if we rest in the tree for a bit? My legs are a bit sore.” Roman asks while pointing at a tall tree.

“Virgil” shrugs and follows him. Bowceit knew it was a bit late in the afternoon but he was sure they still had enough time to complete his plan. He goes to sit next to the tree but stops to watch Roman climb the tree.

“What are you doing?” “Virgil” asks.

Roman stops his climbing. “What does it look like? I’m sitting in the tree.” Roman replies, almost laughing.

“But why?”

“Because we always sit in trees together?” Roman replies, looking very confused.

“Oh? Oh! Of course! Sorry, I completely forgot.” “Virgil” scrambles up the tree after him. Roman continues to climb up confused.

Roman sits on a high branch that overlooks the island. Bowceit could see that the sun was beginning to go down. He frowns, he is running out of time. He was nowhere near his castle with the wedding chapel. He doubts that there were any wedding chapels on Emile’s Island, there were hardly any buildings at all.

“Alright, what is wrong? Don’t tell me it’s nothing, you wouldn’t be frowning if something wasn’t wrong.” Roman asks, his arms crossed so there was no room for discussion.

Bowceit was stuck. He began patting his sides nervously, it was a habit he has always had ever since he was younger.

As he was doing that, he felt a small box in his pocket. The ring! He had completely forgotten that he had it on him with everything going on.

Bowceit tried to hide his shock at discovering the ring but he clearly did not do it well as Roman cups his face.

“Stormcloud, tell me, please. You know you can tell me, anything babe.” Roman asks gently.

Bowceit’s finger’s rest of the ring box. This was his last shot.

“I have something to ask you,” “Virgil” asks as he slips his hand into his pocket.

Roman is confused, he knew Virgil put his hands in his pockets when he was nervous but he had no idea what was making Virgil nervous.

“Will you…?”

“Will I?”“Will you…tell me why you like me?”

Bowceit didn’t know what possessed him to ask that question. It was always lingering in his mind. Why them and not him? He was a king after all! With minions and a huge castle, not to mention very adorable children. So why did the princes date the plumbers? They are plumbers, what exactly do they have to offer?

Roman’s frown was deep that Bowceit was so sure that it would cause permanent frown lines. He takes a deep breath and says, “Okay, I am only going to say this once more. So make sure it stays in your brain this time because you know I hate repeating myself.” Roman emphasis his point by poking “Virgil” forehead.

“Alright, alright, I get it.” “Virgil” replies, waving Roman off, “Just tell me.”

Roman makes a show of clearing his throat, tapping his chest, and do some vocal exercises. “Alright. First off, I demand as your prince and loving boyfriend that you never doubt our relationship again. I know you get anxious about a lot of things but we should not be one of them, my stormcloud. I adore you. I love how cautious you are but are still willing to jump over literal lava when I am kidnapped. You are strong and a hero. But that is not all I like. I like it when you sing when we sit together under a tree and read a book. I like doing nothing and everything with you because it is you. You are an amazing artist and musician. You are an amazing brother and boyfriend.”

Bowceit is shocked, to say the least. He has never heard Roman talk this soft or sweetly. The ring felt heavy in his hand.

“And secondly, I don’t just like you, I love you.” Roman says as he puts his hand on “Virgil”’s hand that is resting on the tree branch.

Bowceit looks down at their hands before looking up at Roman’s face. He is smiling, the most loving smile Roman had ever given him. Roman’s now blue eyes seemed to shimmer with joy and love.

This is all he ever wanted from the prince. And yet…

It felt wrong. This was wrong.

He squeezed the ring box. He had to make a choice.

As this was happening; Logan, Patton, and Virgil seemed to be running around like chickens that have lost their heads. They first headed straight for Bowceit’s castle after talking with the magikoopa. They were shocked when they did not find Roman but rather the danger noodles making a gigantic pillow fort in their father’s throne room.

They headed from world to world afterward but they could not seem to find Roman anywhere. They made it back to the Mushroom Kingdom before deciding to take a breather.

Once they arrive, Virgil walks up to the closet tree and punches it. He immediately regrets this action as his anger quickly turns into pain. He sticks his wounded fist into his mouth to silence any curse words that threaten to escape.

Patton pulls him into a hug, gently rubbing his back. He rocks Virgil back and forth in an attempt to soothe him. Virgil tears up, though he is not sure if it is because of the pain or the sadness he has been trying to suppress all day.

Once the pain dulls, Virgil pulls away from Patton, and Patton lets him go. Virgil tends to pace when he needs to calm his mind down.

Virgil paces in front of Patton’s castle, almost biting his nails but stopping when he remembers he has gloves on. “AGH! Where could they possibly be?!” Virgil shouts in anger.

“We will find them, Virgil,” Logan replies.

“No, no. No, we won’t!”“Virgil–”

“No, no Logan, don’t you dare! Don’t tell me we will! Because we have looked everywhere! We went to every Zone, fuck, we’ve been to his castle! And even if we do find them, they probably are already married. That’s probably why we can’t find them because they’re on their goddamn honeymoon! It’s over! He’s gone!”

Virgil pauses, the weight of his words hit him, “He’s gone…I lost him.” He nearly fell backward from it. He begins to hug himself, trying to catch his breath.

Logan is completely lost. He wants to reassure his brother but he doesn’t know what he could possibly say to help him. He had no logical positive explanation. The logical explanation is that Virgil is right. He did not know what to do.

Luckily, Patton does.

“So you’re just going to give up?” Patton says, making the two brothers turn to him. His pink sleeved arms arm crossed and he is glaring at the pair.

“You guys are only heroes when it’s easy for you? Now that you’re in a hard spot you’re just going to stop?” Patton says angrily

“Well, dear, there is not–” Logan starts but Patton silences him with a hand raise.

“Don’t ‘dear’ me! And don’t you dare say there is nothing you can do! What would Roman say? What would Roman DO? Do you think he just sits around and waits for you guys to save him?’“No…” Virgil replies “He never gives up. H-He would keep trying…”

“That’s right! So you need to do that too!”

Virgil is silent for a few seconds before standing up straight, “You’re right…”

“What was that?” Patton says, his face morphing into a smile.

“You’re right!” Virgil shouts, determination coming back to him, “I am not going to give up! Because I am not a quitter!”

“That’s right! So what are you going to do?!”

“I’M GOING TO BREAK BOWCEIT’S FACE!”Patton blinks at him, “…What else are you going to do?”

“Oh uh save Roman. THEN BREAK HIS FACE!”

“Okay, kiddo.”

“I WILL SEARCH EACH ENDS OF THE EARTH AS MANY TIMES AS POSSIBLE TO BREAK THAT UGLY SNAKE’S FACE!”

“Maybe you won’t have to,” Logan chimes in.

Both Virgil and Patton turn to him and say, “Huh?”

“Think about it, where was the first place we checked when we knew Bowceit had Roman?”

“Bowceit’s castle, but he wasn’t there,” Virgil replies, still confused.

“And when we saw that they were not there, where did we go?”

“To every other place, we know Bowceit has a tower.”

“So that means we didn’t check…?”

“…THE ISLAND! THAT SON OF A BITCH NEVER LEFT THE ISLAND! WE GOT TO GO!” Virgil screams before taking off in a run.

“Virgil! Kiddo! We have to take the plane!” Patton shouts after him.

“Oh right.”

“Cover your eyes and follow me.” “Virgil” instructs Roman as they climbed out of the tree. Roman raises his eyebrow skeptically but covers his eyes with one hand, using his other hand to take “Virgil’s” hand.

They walk for a while before Roman hears what sounds like running water. “May I open my eyes now?”

“Not yet, not yet, Count down from..from 300.”

“300?!”

“Virgil” sighs, “Please? For me.”

Roman rolls his eyes behind his hand, “Okay, okay. But this surprise better be worth it. One, two, three…”

Bowceit steps back from Roman with a frown. He shakes his head and runs away as quietly as possible.

He could not believe that he was actually doing this. He should be jumping at this opportunity and fast, the sun was starting to go down. He looks over his shoulder at Roman still counting. He sighs and continues to walk away.

Damn his stupid conscience.

Once the plane touches the ground on the island, Virgil runs out of it. He is prepared to rip this island to sherds to find his beloved. Luckily he only has to run for a bit before he finds Bowceit.

He jumps up and goes to punch Bowceit but Bowceit dodges. Virgil lands and gets into a fighting set “You…”

“I’m not here to fight,” Bowceit says putting his hands up in defense.

Virgil rolls his eyes, “Wow, that’s a first, but I do not care. Where’s Roman?”

“He’s down that path,” points, “He’s fine, just counting.”

“What? Why is he counting?” Virgil asks, prepared to hear something about a bomb.

“He’s counting down until the spell breaks. Go and get him.” Bowceit says.

“How do I know you’re not lying?”

“Because I’m heading to my airship by myself. But don’t believe me, it doesn’t make a difference to me.”

Virgil stares at him, and he can’t find any indication that Bowceit is lying. “…Why are you doing this?”

“I don’t want to win this way.”

Virgil looks at him in utter shock.

“Oh pick up your jaw from the ground plumber. Don’t read into this. I will marry one of those princes, just not like this.”

Virgil couldn’t hold back his smirk, “Not if my brother and I have anything to say about it.”

Bowceit smirks as well, “We will see.” He salutes Virgil before stuffing his hands into his pockets and walking off.

Virgil’s smirk morphs into a relieved smile. He takes off to Roman, he’ll break Bowceit’s fave another day.

~“Three…two…one…” Roman removes his hand “Oh my gosh…”

The lake he had been brought to was surrounded by Evening Primroses and Moonflowers. The sky was filled with bright beautiful stars. Roman smiles at the scene before turning around. Standing behind him is Virgil, staring at him with his bright brown eyes.

Roman runs over to him and takes his hands. “This place is beautiful. Did you find it on one of your adventures? Wait, don’t tell me. I want to listen to the wonderful sounds of this place.” Roman looks around with a smile before his eyes land back on Roman.

His brown eyes. His soft, warm, and oh so loving brown eyes.

“Stormcloud, why are you crying?” Roman asks as he cups Virgil’s hand and wipes the tears away with his thumb.

Virgil lets out a watery laugh, “Nothing baby, I just love you so much.”

Roman kisses his nose “And I love you too. And I will always love you.”

Virgil grins, “I know.”

Taglist:

@corkeecoderyt @Per-seph-o-nee @Ohshrekmyheck @3milystuff @Asymmetricalgarbage8888 @fairytailtwists @sanders-sides-rebloger @sanderssidesfluffyangst @unikornavenger @0callmevirge0 @gloomingwitch @roxiefox24 @ijustreallylovesanderssides @unisaurioamorfo @mycatshuman

#mario au #thomas sanders #sanders sides #prinxiety #logicality #roman sanders #virgil sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #Janus Sanders #villain deceit #send me asks

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anaid-queen · 9 months ago

Text

just two weeks late

the list of things i love about this!!

CAN I START WITH THE COVER. look at them!! ;___;

Daniel using his press badge to get in for free.... and Armand of course, side-eyeing him XD 'so cheeky, my boy...'

"You're a comedian, beloved." MY HEART!! IS SO FULL!!

'i want to give you everything why don't you want me to give you everything' will forever be the most

(also the hand on Daniel's back ;_;)

no, he was not going to ask, noooo. (maybe he really wasn't, but he'll always worry & consider every option for his beloved twice or thrice)

"We'll leave it to someone who needs it more." ok this is absolutely a front / not the real reason, but damn Daniel, that's still generous. leave it for someone without a vampire lover to prop them up!!

the colors begin!! and the painting facts, ofc

aaand there's the Marius mention.... is it intentional that the room goes very red there? i assume it must be

Armand's faaaace. aaaahhh

love is knowing your partner's obsessive tendencies very well <33

i like learning this artist's story (good man, stand your ground, screw these rich assholes), but do i spy... an embrace? a tender close moment at the very least?? it might be small and sharing space with a lot of text, but you can't fool me!!!!

also, Daniel playfully calling Armand "babe".... Armand going still for a moment and..blushing???... and Armand grinning like a shark and declaring the game on....... a thousand kisses, right there

"Is this why you insisted taking the metro here?" oh my HEART. Daniel convincing an old vampire of new tricks, Daniel trying to stay humble, in-touch with humanity. i LOVE IT. i want to ride the metro with them ;__; (sounds weird, but sue me, i love public transportation. and them! so win-win combo for me :3)

(and can i just say.... i love that you put different random people's faces in focus at times. makes the whole space feel really alive, almost *real*. amazing no notes.)

honestly, in the first moment i didn't even clock why Armand asked Daniel if he wanted to sit down - it's lovely sitting down at an exhibition you enjoy!! especially with your love there (i imagine, at least)

"People probably think you're my disability assistant." i made. noises. i will take every bit, every SHADOW of outsider!POV that i can get, and i WILL cheer it okay!!!

gotta love healing :333

ok this isn't really a 'love' point, this is a question. what's so funny/absurd about the word "ableism"?? old men, i swear XD

are those... are those shaky hands? 🥺🥺

his daughters following his footsteps will forever have my heart

🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 kiss?? or even without kiss. that's so tender i'm!!!

aaand there's the shot from the cover :3 in even prettier, with fancy background!

i should not be giggling about their expressions so much when they're fighting (even minorly), should i

"tone the lurking down a bit" as if he can, Daniel XD (as if you really mind)

blurry faces themeeee

the memory!! love the wife's and daughter's hair... and oh the SELFIE, i'm gonna cry!!!!!!

something, something about the new partner encouraging the connection to the former partner/kids. GOD.

did he cry?? 😧

Armand: options are our driver or the metro. Daniel: cab. i love them XD

i'm not gonna cry over handholding (or Fareed reference, Fareed and Daniel "ancient vamp's boytoy club" when), i am not

their faaaaces. never over how you draw angry (or cheeky) expressions <33

😳😳😳

"Mm. Elder abuse. I think I'd like that." can you develop a kink for smth you technically already liked before, asking for a friend. (that friend is very taken with this line delivery and swears she can literally hear Daniel say it)

Armand's love. aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhh

what do you mean meds work great Daniel, Daniel what do you mean- (rhetorical question)

Red on Maroon A 16-page IWTV (2022) fancomic about the vampire Armand and journalist Daniel Molloy visiting the Mark Rothko retrospective in 2024 Paris. Content mentions & warnings: The comic depicts Daniel’s internalized ableism. Rothko’s suicide is acknowledged but not discussed in detail. There’s angst, talk about kink and lots of fluff. Louis is mentioned as well as Daniel’s daughters. Marius is not named but is hinted at. The comic is set up in post-Dubai-interview time and based on my knowledge about s1 of AMC’s IWTV with sprinkles of book canon. Some notes about the comic below:

As with my last comic, I am not a native English speaker, so I hope you keep that in mind when reading <3 trying my best here meow meow

The Rothko retrospective can be visited until 2nd of April of 2024 in Louis Vuitton Foundation. I visited the place in January, so the comic’s surroundings are a mix of memories and some image searches, but in no way fully accurate. Since visiting Paris next week is probably not an option for most people, the foundation has a very cool free app, where you can listen to an audio guide about Rothko and paintings in the exhibition. I mostly used their app as a source for this comic, so in case you want to learn more, go here: https://www.fondationlouisvuitton.fr/en/events/mark-rothko

I listened to a lot of Morton Feldman’s Rothko Chapel -album while making this. So put it in playing in the background if you’re into that sort of thing. Link to the playlist on youtube

Since I am Finnish and I found out that one of LVF’s first exhibition had some Finnish painter’s work, ofc I had to include them… Page 14 has Schjerfbeck’s “Dancing Shoes” and Gallen-Kallela’s “Kullervo Cursing”.

Ok finally some headcanon stuff: in my head, while writing this comic, I imagined Daniel having accepted the dark gift from Armand, but both of them wanting him to live as a human as long as possible to enjoy the benefits of a… mortal body. :’D Since, you know, vampirism is forever anyway, so why not enjoy the variety of bodily fluids, body heat, aches and weirdness of aging? While having a chronic illness is shitty, his life is not, and while his disability marginalizes him, there’s a perspective there, a person living and enjoying things, allowed to take space and feel his thoughts develop from these changes (that also affect over 6 million people around the world with Parkinson’s).

After finishing the comic I am not so sure if Daniel is going to be turned into a vampire after all. So your guesses are as good as mine, would love to hear your suggestions, hehe!

I wish we knew more about Daniel’s daughters! I just came up with something here because I wanted to draw them and wanted to see their dynamics as a family.

I have now read the Devil’s Minion part from Queen of the Damned as a separate short story and appreciate the TV show’s changes to Daniel even more. I can’t wait for S2…..

My sincerest thanks to @anaid-queen for being a test audience, my informant and such a cheerleader the past week <3<3<3

Hope you enjoy xoxo

SORRY I POSTED THE WRONG IMAGE FILES FIRST WAHHH I had to repost ;_;

#armandiel #interview with the vampire #all the love as always <333 #sorry about the delay again :'D #(i know you said it's ok)

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pensivetense · 4 years ago

Text

A List Of (Mostly TMA) Fic Recs Sorted By Vibe

Not an exhaustive list by any means, just a few favourites that caught my fancy. I shortened many of the summaries for space.

I’m going to pin this here and update it as I go.

Also, I’m pensivetense on ao3

MELANCHOLY VIBES

for when you want to feel comfortably muted

(sad but not utterly bleak endings here)

Hope, Etc. (Dickenson, et al.) by yellow_caballero

Jonathan Sims, six months after the Unknowing, wakes to find himself without a daemon - without humanity, without a soul. It’s a cursed half-life, but existence as a shell without a heart isn’t so bad: between solving the mystery of a persistent illusion cast over his friends and some light pseudo-cannibalism, a life as a monster is better than no life at all. At least, it would be, if it wasn’t for the fucking Owl.

A freaking. Amazing. Daemon au. Ties the lore of Dust with TMA lore very satisfyingly, but is mostly about Jon navigating what it means to be human, or, in the absence of that, a person, and doesn’t require prior knowledge of His Dark Materials. Cannot recommend highly enough.

after one long season of waiting by nuinuijiaojiao

Annabelle is not used to having nice things. or, Annabelle heads to Upton House, muses a little, and gets some well-deserved rest

I love survivalist Annabelle and also the concept of the Web as kind of a horrible Patron, actually.

i love you. I want us both to eat well. by SmallishWormMasterOfTheUniverse

At the safehouse with Martin, Jon decides it's time to quit statements once and for all. The Eye disagrees. Martin just needs Jon to be okay. It's quite possible that nobody is going to get what they want.

Scottish Safehouse Era, Jon and Martin coping with their respective Entities... really, really good.

the friend by doomcountry

He always greets a new spider when he meets it. It’s instinct, born in childhood, the same way he instinctively counts magpies, or flicks salt over his left shoulder. A little harmless superstition. A bit of politesse.

A great Martin character study with eldritch spider horror included. The imagery regularly haunts me (in a good way).

autumn’s rare gift by bee_bro

Annually, the two meet, renewing the binding ritual where it had all started. The procedure simple: a waltz.

Singlehandedly made me ship Gertrude/Agnes so there’s that. It’s so bittersweet and bee_bro’s writing is, as always, incredibly poetic. (I’d recommend everything they write, actually.)

smile, you’re trending by Goodluckdetective

During an encounter with another Avatar of the Eye, Jon faces his past, Martin takes a turn at playing Kill Bill and Basira has a second look at the monster she’s determined to see. For three people associated with the Eye, they could all use some perspective.

Features an original Eye Avatar character who’s a YouTube personality; she is infuriating and inspired and genuinely frightening and I cannot say enough good things.

Humility by The_Lionheart

have you no idea that you're in deep?/i've dreamt about you nearly every night this week,/how many secrets can you keep?

An OC centric story but don’t let that put you off, it’s amazing. Very heavily focused around Jonah Magnus and the other Avatars as they change through the years. Also, I’d die for the OC.

oh, for one sweet second without the eye series by faedemon

Beholding does not like in the way humans do, but it likes its Archivist all the same.

I’m just so fond of the way this is done stylistically. I have a great weakness for dialogue only/dialogue heavy writing, not to mention all of the wonderful character beats and interplay of humanity/inhumanity for Jon and Melanie.

Rewind by WhyNotFly

It takes eight days of forced confinement for Jon to start hallucinating. [...] It’s Martin, though, that his exhausted brain conjures, because of course it’s Martin. After all this time, of course it’s Martin.

Jon willingly allows himself to be confined rather than hunting for statements, and examines his relationship with Martin.

for a firmament series by supaslim

There is beauty in destruction. There is art in becoming. In which Jon becomes the Archive, and the Archive becomes Jon.

Part two posted this morning and uhhh. Good. Also if you’re here for weird eldritch body horror (I am), this one’s for you.

ONES THAT JUST HURT

for when you want to feel sad

(somewhat bleaker endings here/everyone is NOT okay)

Feste by yellow_caballero

If asked, Martin would say that he became the shadow director of the Magnus Institute by accident. But nobody ever asked, and nobody ever cared, and it was in this way that Martin stopped lying to himself. Or: break free, Martin. All you have to lose are your chains. And your sanity.

Oh, this one totally didn’t go the way I expected it to. A study in isolation. Could go into the category above, as the ending is not bleak, but the tone of the whole is somewhat more depressing than most there.

Ghosts of Love by RavenXavier

Nothing made Martin more grounded in the world than yearning for Jonathan Sims.

Lonely!Martin that really captures a sort of visceral ache. Hurts me and yet I keep rereading.

i do desire (we may be better strangers) by godbewithyouihavedone

For ages, it only knew how to worship, taking human bodies and living off the fear of those who remembered. It never knew love until it became Jonathan Sims. Now it must fight against every instinct to save Martin Blackwood. Archivist Sasha, Not!Jon/Martin, and the worst kind of Fake Dating AU.

Oh, this one just made me sad. The poor not!them, which is something I never thought I’d say.

Apple Of Your Eye by fakeCRfan

In which the Eye is fond of Martin. Perhaps a little too fond for comfort.

Somehow manages to be both sweet and horrifying—the characterisation of the Eye is incredible. ‘The Eye loves Martin’ is a scenario that’s so utterly doomed to failure and yet the writing is packed with so much pathos that I just want them all to be happy. A fantastic use of themes of agency and choice, and the single best use of Beholding as a source of horror I’ve read.

The Last Press by copperbadge

Jon Sims is awake, and has begun preparations for the Rite of the Watcher's Crown. Peter Lukas, who woke him, would be content to rule at his side. Martin is very upset about all of this, and the Lukases aren't thrilled with it either.

I really can’t say anything without spoiling the end and it’s so good. An alternate take on the Watcher’s Crown. Not a pairing that I ever thought would work for me, but this made it work.

watch the blood evaporate by 75hearts

It starts, like so many things in Jon’s life have started, with a nagging itch of curiosity. Jonathan Sims uses his healing abilities throughout s4. Read the tags.

Dear God please read the tags. But this is some high quality pain if it’s for you.

the lighthouse series by low_fi

Peter Lukas is a lighthouse keeper. One evening, he gets a call from a cryptic overseer tasked with monitoring his work.

This is such a vivid and yet subtle story—from the setting to the emotions portrayed, it creeps up on you slowly. The ending was like the gentlest possible gut-punch. The sequel just completed, and yeah, just as wonderful. This one is very much LonelyEyes but I listed it here because it is just exquisitely painful.

SATISFYINGLY HOPEFUL VIBES

for when you want to feel cozy

Clutching Daffodils by Gemi

Martin has always liked the idea of love at first sight. It’s such a romantic idea, the whole thing of it. Seeing someone and instantly feeling that strange, twisting feeling deep inside that every single media likes to obsess over. Of knowing you are in love within the day, petals falling from your mouth and warmth filling your chest as love burrows deep, vines twisting through your lungs. He always liked the idea of it. And then Jonathan Sims starts working at the Magnus Institute.

Somehow manages to be lighter and fluffier than most hanahaki fare, despite the setting. I’ve reread this one a lot.

the least he could do by Prim_the_Amazing

Martin should in fact not pick this man, specifically because of how attracted he is to him. It would be the responsible thing to do. Except he’s already following him. And he’s hungry.

Fluffy vampire au which everyone’s probably already read, but was too good not to mention.

rather interesting by bee_bro

Jonah Magnus realizes that, for some reason, when he comes in contact with weed, Elias Bouchard's consciousness will come into his life banging pots and pans.

Oh boy. So these are all favourite fics but this one is a favourite amongst favourites. The way Jonah is characterised (i.e. incredibly sensitive to scrutiny) is my favourite depiction of him, and the slow-burn between him and Elias is far sweeter than it has any right to be. Also, it’s hilarious.

The Magnus Records series by ErinsWorks

In a world parallel to that of the Archives and the Institute, a supernatural sanctuary stands against a cruel and uncaring world: A world of bureaucracy and tyranny, of murder and carnage, of loneliness and surveillence, of plague and death. But in this world of fear and misery, 14 entities born of the hopes of the world have emerged. And one of them has made their home here, at The Magnus Sanctuary. Perhaps, the employees within may lead happier lives than their counterparts did in the Archives.

This is just so goddamn pure. The author writes a really imaginative, fleshed-out alternate world and alternate Entities with engaging, well-written short statements. All of the character voices are absolutely on point, and it’s overall absurdly hopeful without ever feeling overly saccharine. I love this series so much, you guys, you don’t even know. I want to print it out and paste it on my wall. I love it.

HARD APOCALYPSE

for when you want to feel dark and angsty (and eldritch)

Most of these are shorts/oneshots because it’s just that kind of genre, y’know?

Ashes to Ashes by marrowbones

A conversation at the end of the world.

Oliver Banks is one of those minor characters that I am overly attached to. Love him here.

Employee Benefits by equals_eleven_thirds

The Magnus Institute offered some normal employee benefits: a pension plan, holidays, travel subsidies, free lunch on the last Friday of each month. Rosie makes it work.

This manages to hit that perfect sweet spot of satisfying and hilarious. Rosie gets to torment Elias, as she well deserves.

a rose by any other name by Duck_Life

Part of Jon blooms in Jared Hopworth’s garden.

This one was sad and honestly too gentle to really belong in this category, but I love it.

Eye to Eye by Dribbledscribbles

In which Jonah Magnus attempts a post-apocalyptic pep talk.

Unreliable narrator at its finest, and the implications are suitably horrific.

commensalis by doomcountry

The tower is endlessly, impossibly tall, but Jon’s work is taller.

If you’re here for the eldritch imagery, then this has some of the best.

SOFT APOCALYPSE

for when you want to feel gently triumphant

apocalypse how series by sunshine_states

Humanity adjusts. The Entities have Regrets.

Some nice vignettes set in a kinder apocalypse.

ceylon series by Sciosa

The one in which Jonathan Sims decides that no, actually, he isn't going to let the world just end.

I include this only for the sake on completeness, as everyone has no doubt already read it.

rituals by doomcountry

Martin is the first person to knock on the Archivist's door since it arrived, fully, into its little waiting temple. The Archivist saw him coming from down the hall, but decides to feign interest when the knob turns, and Martin—still a little bit smaller, a little more translucent than before—stands uncertainly just outside the room.

This one’s a little less focused on the world at large and more on JonMartin specifically.

we raise it up by savrenim

Jonathan Sims reads a book and saves the world; although maybe the real salvation is the friends he makes along the way; (although perhaps the world itself and the darkness that exists behind it isn't quite as out to get everyone as it seems).

More ‘soft revolution’ than ‘soft apocalypse’, but has the same vibe. A time travel fix-it. Incomplete but worth it if this is a mood that appeals to you.

Scarred Ground by DictionaryWrites

“You see," Elias said softly, "people always have this idea that only living things can be scarred - and they're right, of course. But a building is a living thing, Martin. And the ground can be scarred, too." "I don't have any scars," Martin said. "Yes, you do," Elias said. "You just need the right light to see them.”

Falls somewhere between ‘Apocalypse’ and ‘Soft Apocalyse’ but I’m putting it here because I feel like it. Also technically a LonelyEyes fic. I found it hard to follow at first but it’s worth sticking with; things will eventually begin to make sense and come together.

LONELYEYES

for when you want to feel lonelyeyes

marrying anguish with one last wish by procrastinatingbookworm

In which Elias isn't Orpheus, and Peter isn't Eurydice, but Elias brings Peter home anyway.

Lives in my head rent free forever. My favourite lonelyeyes fic.

ouroboros by Wildehack

“You know,” Jonah says, a muscle in his calf quivering agreeably where it’s slung over Mordechai’s shoulder, “it’s really quite--fortunate--that I don’t care for you at all.”

Oh, this one hurts in the best possible way. The endless cycle of their relationship, the way it comes full-circle... yeah, good. Actually, no, this one might be my favourite. It’s a tie.

Breaking all the Rules by Thedupshadove

Elias proposes a somewhat...unusual wager.

Soft lonelyeyes? In my recs? It’s more likely than you think. Short, sweet, and... sweet.

Threefold by Sprinkledeath

Peter Lukas breaks three rules.

I’m just a slut for mythology allusions I guess.

Luck Be A Lady Tonight by prodigy

In 2014, Elias Bouchard takes a rare trip outside of his comfort zone. Peter Lukas wastes a bunch of money. You'd be surprised how many things can go wrong for two beings of cosmic power.

I love the sense of the history of them you get while reading this.

love is just a word (the idea seems absurd) by kaneklutz

"Something's wrong. It's stopped hurting" An avatar of the Lonely and an avatar of the Beholding walk into a bar relationship. It was bound to blow up in their faces.

Short, sweet, painful. Excellent exploration of their priorities.

Victor by penguistifical

elias tries something with his powers that he hasn't attempted before

The one where Elias tries to raise the dead. Not incredibly LonelyEyes centric but that’s still the pairing.

Simon Says by penguistifical

“Peter asked me to drop by and have a word with you, and, so, here I am.” Simon chuckles at Elias’s disbelieving stare. “Well, he asked in his own way. He’s not a complicated man, you know. He either comes from your arms looking like a stroked cat that’s been given a dish of cream or looking like he’s been in that toy boat of his out in an unexpected storm. He was far angrier than normal, so I daresay you weren’t cream today.”

I mean personally I’d just go ahead and rec all of penguistifical’s LonelyEyes fics but this is a standout for me.

AROMANTIC AND ASPEC MOODS

for when you want to feel Seen

The Aro Archives series by WhyNotFly

These are all just really really good. From Aro!Peter to two different aro-spec versions of the Scottish Safehouse to a long and beautiful aro hanahaki fic, this series is uniformly wonderful. The two Scottish Safehouse ones (Torn Edges and Murky Water) are my comfort fics.

and now all fear gives way by j_quadrifons

Before he can think it through, he murmurs, "Is that what it feels like? Being in love?" Martin's hand stills in his hair and Jon's stomach drops.

This one just. Wow yeah this is how it be. Another absolute comfort fic of mine.

Sweet As Roses by Prim_the_Amazing

Jon takes Martin by the shoulders, leans up on the tips of his toes, and kisses him.

I’m going to be honest—I didn’t know where to put this one. But it ended up here because the real standout of this fic for me is the portrayal of Sasha, and especially her portrayal as an aro character. So I’m putting it here. Mind the content warnings with this one!

HUMOUR

for when you want to feel delight

The Torment of Sebastian Skinner by Urbenmyth

After the Eye's victory, the statement givers are trapped in their horror stories, living them over and over again. Naturally, this works out better for some then for others.

Premise? Delightful. Execution? Fantastic. I read this one to cheer myself up when I’m sad.

Unlucky by VolxdoSioda

Jon’s dice betray him

Short, sweet DnD au, and the reason I cannot get DM!Elias out of my head now.

Voracious by beetl

A bird hits the window. Jon experiences The Flesh's thrall.

“Dead Dove: Do Not Eat” but make it literal.

The Stupid Endings by Urbenmyth

There are a lot of very deeply thought out and creative AUs on this site. These aren't among them. These ones are how the story could have ended, if Jonny Sims was a dumbass.

These are just uniformly hilarious, I cannot recommend them highly enough.

PODCAST CROSSOVERS

for when you want to make one of those “if I had a nickel for every time...” posts

The Sabbatical by morelikeassassin

Nicholas Waters is in need of an all-knowing eldritch entity beyond the confines of human imagining to help with his latest ritual. He'll have to settle for Jonathan Sims, who happens to have nothing better to do.

Crossover with Archive 81 (s3, specifically). Both fun and bittersweet.

The City And Its Sorrows by cuttooth

“What makes you think your friend is in Eskew?” David asks. He feels he can risk the scrutiny of the city that far. “I read that this is a place people end up when they get lost,” says the man. “This is a place people end up,” David agrees./The Archivist comes to Eskew.

Contemplative piece, and I love the way it presents David’s relationship with Eskew, the way he finds it horrible and hates it and yet belongs to it, is almost proud in the way he shows to to Jon. Great little vignette of two people oppressed by eldritch powers, intersecting.

Hiatus by bibliocratic

My name is Jonathan Sims, and I am in Eskew. (Jon gets lost in a Spiral city. It is not as easy as escaping.)

This one is far more focused on Jon than David, and is honestly more Eskew-weird than Spiral-weird. In the best way. Told in Eskew episode style, and is very good.

Sweet Music by Shella688

Eskew has a music to it, if you know how to listen. The percussion beat of thousands of footsteps, the melody in the squealing of the trains overhead. Today, the music of Eskew comes in the form of nine musicians, playing outside my office. My name is David Ward, and I am in Eskew.

Not TMA, but since a lot of Mechs fans go here—this one’s a Mechs/Eskew crossover. Short and simple, mostly David Ward centric, just a little well-written one shot I had to mention because I enjoyed it but it doesn’t have much traffic. Nice portrayal of the Mechs from an outsider’s perspective, and how genuinely strange and frightening they’d come across (especially if you’re already being haunted by and eldritch city). If you like Eskew-style storytelling, check it out!

NOT TMA

...but good enough that I physically cannot make a recs list without including them. Here!

#tma #the magnus archives #fic recs #long post #i'm not kidding you guys it's long #so be warned before you click read more #pinned on my blog

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thiswasinevitableid · 4 years ago

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68 from the winter prompt list seems Very sternclay and I would love to see your take on it, nsfw if it fits would be great too, thank you!!!

Here you go, it is indeed NSFW!

68. you’re obsessed with my homemade soup that I serve at my cafe and I’m too embarrassed to tell you that I’ve only been trying out new recipes to see you get excited for the soup of the day

Stern tries to avoid being rude in public, or in general, really. But right now he’s wondering if he can get away with shoving his face into this soup bowl and licking out the bottom. The food at Amnesty Lodge has always been stellar, but lately the soups are the highlight of his day.

Reluctantly, he leaves the last delicious dregs at the bottom of the blue ceramic bow and heads to the counter to pay his bill.

“How was everything?” Dani rings him up with a smile.

“Incredible. I swear, Barclay out does himself every time I come.”

“Great! I’ll tell him you said so. I know he loves getting feedback on new recipes.”

-------------------------

“You did not say that.” Barclay drags the rag down the counter top.

“Okay, so I didn’t add ‘especially from guys who he thinks are hot,’you got me.” She smirks as she clocks out.

“It’s not my fault he’s so cute when he gets excited about food.”

“Barclay, just ask him out already.”

“But he’s a customer!”

“Who you also see once a week at game night at Duck’s. He’s for sure in friend territory at this point.”

“She’s got a point. Besides, sometimes flirting with customers ends well.” Aubrey leans against the kitchen door, twirling her car keys and winking at her girlfriend, “right, honey?”

“Absolutely, firebug.” Dani loops her arm around Aubrey’s waist, then levels Barclay with the look that routinely makes people mistake her for his little sister, “ask him out, or I am going to leave your number on his check the next time he comes in.”

“Okay, okay” He holds up his hands, chuckling, “you win.”

He waves goodnight, finishes locking up once the two women are gone. Then he climbs the stairs home. Amnesty Lodge was a real lodge, once upon a time. But as the city grew and buildings were divided and repurposed, only the restaurant and the rooms above it, plus the small house next door, remained. Mama, the owner, lives in the house, and Barclay has the apartment. It’s nice; he has no commute, he can run up and change if he gauges his layers wrong, and he likes being able to hear the river running nearby and the traffic humming through his window.

Maybe Joseph would like to come up here after closing some night for coffee? Or is that too forward? Would he be interested if it was forward, or if they took it slow? Would he be interested in Barclay at all? Does he just like him for his soup?

God, the soup. He never meant for it to become a thing. His usual menu had three or four soups of the day in rotation, but then Joseph ordered a bowl of the corn cheddar chowder to go with his club sandwich and ate it so joyfully that Barclay caught him licking his spoon. Which did nothing to quash his budding crush on the guy. So he started trying out new recipes just to see Joseph get excited, and now it seems like Joseph is coming in just for the soup, and the upshot is he may be stuck forever in a soup-loop because of the way Joseph’s eyes crinkle when he’s happy.

He knows that Joseph agreeing to a date would make him happier than a fresh produce delivery. But he has no clue if he really stands a chance with a guy who’s always well-dressed and friendly, when he himself is an often quiet, scraggly looking cook.

Well, if nothing else, he has to try. Dani is not a woman of empty threats.

------------------------------------------------------

“How do you do it?” Joseph rests his chin in his hand, spoon sitting in his empty bowl. He’s at the counter seating, so he can see Barclay working at the grill.

“Do what?”

“Come up with such good recipes. And don’t try to say it’s cookbooks; you said last week that you’ve come up with a lot of them on your own.”

“It’s, uh, it’s nothing special, just a lot of tinkering.” He gets an idea, one that flashes over him so hot and fast he’s afraid the stove caught fire.

“Would, uh, would you like to help me out with the newest one? I get off in an hour since I was on the early shift today.”

“I’d love to! I have some errands to run downtown, so as much as I’d like to hang around for an hour and watch you show off, I’ll see you at seven.” He sets down the cash to cover the bill and a tip, winks, and heads out the door. Barclay really hopes he stays in the suit when he comes back.

“Uh, dude?”

“Yeah, Jake?”

“Toast’s on fire.”

“Fuck!”

-------------------------------------------------

Barclay finishes setting out his mise en place right as there’s a knock on the front door. He swings it open and finds Joseph waiting patiently, a grocery bag slung over his shoulder. He’s still in his suit; Barclay can just spot his black tie with little ufos on it peeking out of his winter coat.

“Dani said I should just come on up.” He slips off his shoes, revealing socks with Bigfoot on them, “and I brought some wine, and a fancy beer I found at Jenny Street Market, since I wasn’t sure what kind of soup it is.”

“My take on a traditional Irish stew, so let's do the beer.” Barclay grabs two pint glasses and pours as Joseph finishes hanging up his coat and joins him in the kitchen. He’s down to his dress shirt and slacks, eagerly rolling up his sleeves before taking the glass.

“Right, what do we do first?”

Barclay takes a prolonged sip to avoid blurting out his real answer, then starts explaining that they need to figure out the right ratio of vegetable to lamb and which spices work best in the stock.

They talk as they work, Joseph sharing his theories on the plausible plot twists in this season of Agent X and Barclay teasing him whenever he gets going on a tangent about the monster of the week episodes. The easy back and forth, the warmth of the apartment as the air fills with spices and butter, the way the kitchen lights plays off Joseph’s face; it feels like a home, and his stomach twists whenever he remembers that the other man will leave in an hour or two.

“Barclay, I have to ask; why the sudden zest for soup?” Joseph sets his glass down, still half full because they’re talking too much to drink more than a sip at a time.

“Uhhh, just, uhh a good fit for a winter menu.” Barclay sets the lid onto the dutch oven; it’ll take at least forty-five minutes for this batch to thicken and develop flavor. When he hazards a glance at Joseph, the man is studying him, one eyebrow raised.

“Is that all?”

He washes his hands to buy time to build up his courage, then sighs, “Nope. It started after the first time you ordered it. You just got so excited whenever I had a new soup of the day, and I liked making you feel that way, so I just kept finding or making new recipes I hoped you’d like. Heh” he rubs his wrist, anxious, “sounds hella weird when I say it out loud like that.”

Turning, he finds Joseph with his hands covering his mouth.

“Fuck, sorry, probably shouldn’t have confessed that when we’re alone-”

“What? Oh, Barclay,” Joseph steps forward, taking his hands, “I’m not upset, I’m shocked. That’s, um, that’s one of the sweetest things anyone’s done for me, going to all that trouble, you didn’t have to.” The words are a bit stuttery and jumbled, Joseph going pinker after each one.

“I wanted to. I’d make a whole new menu every day if it’d make you smile that way.”

His lower back bangs into the counter as Joseph crowds him, fingers digging into his hair so roughly that it starts coming loose from its tie. He tastes like beer and stock he kept sampling, and Barclay licks it up, pressing his tongue between his welcoming lips, desperate to bring them as close together as possible.

Joseph pulls away, resting their foreheads together, as he undoes Barclay’s shirt with ruthless efficiency, “Do you have any idea how hot that is?”

“The...doing nice things for you part?” He cups Joseph’s cheeks, trailing his thumbs over the hints of five o’ clock shadow.

“You went to all that trouble, just for me.” Joseph drags his mouth up Barclay’s neck as he continues, “just to make me happy.”

“I mean, made me happy too.” He mumbles into black hair.

“I’m trying to compliment you, big guy.” Joseph nips his bottom lip.

“Oh fuck.” He whimpers at the nickname, at the way the other man doesn’t hesitate to shove his hands up his now-bare chest, demanding and adoring, “guess all those jokes about the way to a man’s heart being through his stomach are true.”

“While the food helps, there’s so much more about you that I like. For instance” he drags his hands down to Barclay’s stomach before palming his hardening cock through his jean, “you’re the most handsome man in town.”

He whimpers louder this time, Joseph keeping up the light pressure on his cock.

“Bedroom?” It’s both an encouragement and a question, the ton letting Barclay know he’s welcome to continue but not obligated to.

“The, can’t, can’t leave the stove unattended.” He gropes Joseph’s ass through his slacks, kisses his neck as he tries to calculate if turning off the stew will mess up the recipe.

“I love how responsible you are.” It’s another compliment, a dead serious one, “and I have an idea.” He steps back, hurries over to the grocery bag, and pulls out a small, rectangular box.

“I couldn’t tell if this was a date, so I decided to be on the safe side.” He surveys the kitchen, “feel like picking a surface to bend me over?”

Barclay practically knocks a stack of cookbooks off the tiny kitchen table, dragging a laughing Joseph over to shove him across it.

“This okay?” He pants as he covers the back of his neck with kisses.

“Better than okay. Barclay please, I’ve, um, I’ve been thinking about this for weeks, and basically non-stop for the last two hours.”

“Fucking-A” He’s amazed there isn’t a cartoonish boi-oi-oing when he gets his pants and boxers down, his cock--his whole being, really--aching for the chance to fuck the man in front of him. Getting Joseph’s pants down takes two tries, and opening the condom takes three because he’s shaking so hard from excitement.

“Need a hand, big guy?”

“Nope. Just need this.”

“FUCKohfuck, shit” Joseph reaches forward, gripping the far edge of the table as Barclay sinks into him, “yes, need it too, need you so bad.”

“You got me babe” he loops one arm around Joseph’s hips, sets his free hand next to his on the table for balance, “and I got you.” He starts slow, relishing every little sound he gets in reply to his thrusts, kissing any exposed skin he can find, then rucking Joseph’s shirt up his back to find more.

Joseph’s hand moves down towards his cock, but Barclay gently guides it back onto the table, “No need to babe. Like I said, I got you.”

He doesn't mean to start railing him the instant after his fingers find his cock. It’s more that feeling him soaking and hard, all because of (and all for) him, the grateful moan he lets out at the contact, the way he grinds his hips back and forth, it sets off every part of Barclay’s brain at once, and all he wants to do is take him, make him cum, break the fucking table showing him how much he wants him.

“Ohmylord” Joseph gasps, raising his head, “oh my fucking--Barclay yes, like that, lord you don;t disappoint.” His smile is ecstatic, more than the worlds clumsiest hand-job deserves, and Barclay forces his fingers to find their professional finesse, rub and stroke in the ways that make Joseph beg for more.

He growls as he feels his orgasm building; not yet, no fucking way, he wants to feel Joseph cum around him. With Herculean effort, he stills his hips and focuses, growling again as Joseph tightens around him. When the man beneath him cums, the last of his restraint evaporates and he hammers into him, table scraping forward inch by inch in time with his grunts and Joseph’s weakening moans.

His climax doubles him over, and he spills with a muffled moan, mouthing at Joseph’s shoulder through his shirt.

Then his legs give, ten minutes of furious fucking after a ten hour shift enough for them to peace out. He lands with an “oof” on the floor, and Joseph is laughing again as he turns to stare down at him.

“Are you okay down there?”

He gives a thumbs up, “Cute guy just shorted out all my circuits, no big.”

Joseph fixes his pants and shirt, joins him on the floor and pulls him into his arms, “I’d say it was very big.”

Barclay snickers, rests his head on his shoulder, “Walked into that one. Gimme sec, then I can make us some dinner. Don’t know about you, but I’m starving.”

“We’re not having soup?”

Barclay kisses his cheek, “Nah, you can have that for dinner tomorrow at the Lodge.”

Joseph’s smile is full of delicious trouble, “How about for breakfast?”

He holds him close, smiling at him, “Babe, you got yourself a deal.”

#agent stern/barclay #sternclay #winter fills #trans agent stern

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prettybubblesintheair · 8 months ago

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OHMYFUCKINGGOSH DARLING YOU GO AND BREAK NY HEART WHY DONT YOU T^T.

Ok so let’s begin with this and I’m sorry in advance for any mistakes, I’m crying and shaking and heartbroken but OKAY 😭

So it started WONDERFULLY BEAUTIFUL, absolutely in love with HER dream sequence I literally had butterflies inside of me, I LOVE THAT FUTURE for us, please and thank you.

The BABYYYYYYYY 😭💗💗💗 I just can’t, he’s the most precious mini Feyd to ever exist, I have zero doubts that their Baby would be the most loved, cherished, spoiled little cutie in the universe, they would be soooooooooo in love with him, I just can see it, Feyd being all Daddy number 1 to him, he would try his best, he would give him his everything and more, to be his role model and for him to have a childhood like he couldn’t, the little witch too, like can you imagine the power of that baby, a Mini Feyd-Little Witch just uuuff 👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻 also to have the protection of the HARPIES, HONEY THE POWER 😍🥰

Absolutely adorable scene, the way the baby talked to Feyd, HIS LITTLE BLACK SMILE JUST LIKE HIS DADDY, I swear I was screaming and giggling kicking my feet, he’s just soooooooo effin cute, THE CURLS, oh no that baby is going to be the most precious heir to ever exist.

And THEN WE LEARN there’s a baby in the making, A BABYGIRL, STOOOOOP, my heart can’t handle it, Feyd touching her belly, and being all cute, I JUST LOVE HIM SO MUCH, WITH ALL MY HEART AND WITH EVERYTHING I AM.

"I... just promise me you will never let me go." You ask him, not daring to even look at him because you're afraid you'll cry the moment his eyes meet yours.

"You stuck with us, my baroness. Nothing can separate us." He promises it to you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head and tightening his hold on you. You felt safe. Warm. Loved.

YOU FELT SAFE, WARM & LOVED, yeeeees we did.

I’m NEVER NEEEEEEEVER GONNA SHUT UP about how much I love YOUR FEYD, the way you make him turn to life, just UGH PERFECTION.

Now Feyd going to their room and IMMEDIATELY knowing something is not right, that she didn’t left him, like the character development in here is astounding, 👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻 yes baby she didn’t left you, also he KNOWING it was either the fremen or the witches, his little witch would’ve been so proud of him.

Him noticing the little details, THE DAGGER he gave her, HIM CHANGING his blade for hers 😭💗 like he’s so in LOVE. Also loved the backstory of the blade, him remembering when he gifted her that, learning that the blade is poisonous 🫢 and that SHE USED IT with the princess hahahaha yaaaaas future Empress 👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻 I was so proud of her at that moment.

Feyd telling her about the THANK YOU KISS hahahaha why is he like this, he was soooooo gone for her.

"Your welcome, my little witch." He mumbles as you disappear back into your shadows. He puts his bloody fingertips on his lips, tasting his blood. He closes his eyes, imagining how sweet you must taste...

Yeah... Feyd couldn't love you. A lie he had told himself since that night every time he felt his heart pound in his chest whenever he saw you.

HE’S WAS SO FREAKING IN LOVE WITH HER ALREADY, he just didn’t know it.

Rabban and Feyd working together presenting a united front 😭💖 against the great houses was amazing.

THE PEETA BABY-BOMB HE DROPPED, the way I GASPED AT THAT 🫢💗 I WAS ALREADY AT THE EDGE OF MY SEAT AT THIS POINT YOU JUST MADE ME FALL FROM THE CHAIR WITH THAT.

And maybe I wouldn't be so concerned about my right hand being missing if it weren't for the baby."

Peeta come collect your boy, hahaha LOVED THAT PART, also him calling her his fiancée, like THE WAY I WAS SMILING 💗🥰💗🥰

And Rabban being all happy for Feyd was adorable too.

Irulan being in THEIR ROOM, like it’s her house, no, no nooooo, go away. But Feyd’s inner struggle and thinking about his little witch was sooooo 😍 how she gets when he gets naked in front of her, he daydreaming about f* her in the throne hahahaha I’M 👏🏻 OBSESSED 👏🏻 WITH 👏🏻 HIM.

And him knowing that Irulan is slowly dying, ALSO HE USING THE VOICE, OMFG, seriously this chapter was SOOOOOOOOOOOO GOOD. Feyd ordering her not to tell anyone about the attack and that she is dying 🤣💗 oh FEYD THE MAN YOU ARE.

Now the Bene Geserit sending her to Paul?????? I hate them soooo much, sooo soooo much.

Paul being all yes you are giving me a baby???? Sorry WHAT, are you delulu, wait YES YOU ARE. I wonder what Chani would think about that.

"You are a mad freak. Feyd will kill you as soon as he finds you. And hell knows, he will come for me. It will be pure joy to fight him for the privilege of being the one who impales your head."

The whole vision - watery thing, WHAT WAS THAAAAAT, I was so upset at that part, my heart was beating wildly at that moment, seriously I hope the minute she put her head in the water Paul or the bene geserit did something to mess with her visions, like they suddenly used the voice on her, or did something to that so she would see that. I CANNOT WILL NOT ever believe that future can be for them.

Her own dream at the beginning NOW THATS THE ONLY FUTURE I WILL BELIEVE.

Feyd attacking them IMMEDIATELY 👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻💗 ofc he was gonna go for her as soon as he draw his next breath 💗 if that’s not love I don’t know what it is 😭🥰💗

And him finding her so soon, I swear my heart was so happy but something kept bugging me, it was so easy for him to find her BUT NEVER, N E V E R in a million years I thought WHAT ACTUALLY HAPPENED was going to happen.

Her declaring openly her LOVE FOR HIM, they way and what she said to him 😭💗💗💗💗 him trying to protect her making her go to the ship and wait for him 😭 also HER ASKING HIM MULTIPLE TIMES IF HE TRUSTED HER, that’s what gives me a little hope for next chapter, that HE IS SO SMART, that HE TRUSTS HER AND KNOWS HER SO MUCH to know she does everything for him, that she would never betray him and that what she does is to help him and their future.

"Do you trust me?!" You interrupt him, raising your voice. He must see the desperation and seriousness in your eyes because you see him swallow, considering the question you've asked him. You unconsciously hold your breath, waiting for him to respond.

"I… I do. If I trust anyone, it's you. Only you."

"I love you, Feyd. I have always loved you. And I was very afraid of it, but I'm not anymore... I... I don't want to be scared of this anymore." You admit it as a single tear falls from your eyes. He reaches to wipe it off, but you shake your head. His hand freezes, hanging between you as he stares at you in shock, trying to process what you said.

This entire part was breaking my heart, I just love them so much and I want them to have a happy ending, the ending they deserve, the LIFE THEY BOTH DESERVE with their HAPPY FAMILY.

"I'm so sorry. But it's not our time yet."

My heart literally stopped beating, I was so shocked, like me and you both Paul.

But my Feyd, my beautiful Feyd, I could feel her pain for having to do that to him, for seeing him on the floor 💔 I just hope and pray HE TRUSTS HER AND EVERYTHING SHE DOES and KNOWS ITS FOR THEIR FUTURE.

But still THE BETRAYAL, sweetheart seriously you broke my heart, the pain, the fear bc when you wrote that she grabbed his sword my mind for a moment went to HER POISONOUS BLADE I was screaming NO NO NOOOOOO not THAT ONE, he’s gonna die for real if you use that one, like I don’t know I hope his blood in your universe is thicker so he would not bleed out like any normal person, bc YOU WROTE THAT THE BLADE WAS STICKING OUT FROM HIS BACK, it crossed his body and I just can’t, it hurts.

So when Paul is about to approach you and stab Feyd in the back, you close your eyes and stab Feyd with his sword. You hear him let out a shaky breath as his black blood slowly seeps from the wound, staining your hands. You keep your other hand on his shoulder, supporting his weight as he slowly sinks to his knees in front of you. You try to ignore him, not look at him or in his eyes... you simply cannot. Instead, you stare at Atreides.

Why do you have to break my heart that way, excuse me while I go cry again.

And then to the nd it all with A CLIFFHANGER AGAAAAAAAAIN, HONEY NOOOOOO HOW COULD YOU, whyyyyyy are you so mean to us, TO ME, can’t you see that I’m so delicate and fragile and my heart can’t take all this pain 😭😭😭😭😭

And then THERES ONLY 1 more chapter, HOW ARE YOU GOING TO FINISH THIS MASTERPIECE in just one more chapter, I can’t 💔😭 I hope we get to see into their future a little more and not only in a dream form, I’m just gonna be over here thinking of Daddy Feyd until the next update cause thinking about anything else hurts a lot.

With all that being said, this has to be ONE OF THE MOST AMAZING FEYD STORIES ever to grace this world. Seriously the way you have with words, I said this before but the WORLD you built, the character development, plot, BETRAYAL everything is just superb, and I don’t think you really know how AMAZING YOU AND YOUR WRITTING are. How this story is a complete MASTERPIECE 👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻

Seriously I could stay here giving you praises for a long time cause DAMN YOU ARE FANTASTIC 💗💗💗💗💗💗💗 so I hope you feel the love through my words, you can also feel my gratitude for creating this world and sharing it with us, I HOPE you are wonderful, that the rest of the year is absolutely beautiful for you, that you feel the love, good vibes and see only pretty things around you ALWAYS.

Sending you only but the best wishes, vibes, love and everything good your way ☺️💗✨ thank you thank you thank you for this update.

Right Hand V

Pairing: Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem!exBeneGesserit! reader Summary: The Bene Gesserit has something... very interesting to show you—something that only makes you question your situation more. During this time, Feyd is also put to a great test. But how much can your relationship endure before you both come to the conclusion that maybe you're not meant to be together? Warning: 18+; violence; blood; Feyd Rautha; death; fight; brutality; smut; Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ Main Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ PART IV ~•♤♤♤•~ PART VI ~•♤♤♤•~

Dreams have a strange power. You can see your future and past in them. You can drift between dreamland and the real world and be semi-aware of your surroundings. You can create a new reality that is more tempting than your real life. Dreams can be either your sweet escape from reality or your dark oppressor.

For you, dreams were reminders of what had been, ghosts of the past, catching you in your most vulnerable state. But this time, you weren't dreaming about your past.

You were in Giedi Prime. You walked through familiar corridors, hiding from the Harkonnens' eyes. It was rare to meet anyone in these corridors. Most of them were dead ends with secret passages that were unknown to most of the inhabitants of Giedi Prime. That's why you were terribly surprised when suddenly someone pulled you by your cloak.

You freeze, startled, and turn slowly to face the small child. The kid looks like Harkonnen's child, but not quite. His skin is creamier than white, and white hair grows on his head in unruly curls. But what you recognised perfectly were the blue, bright irises that only one person could boast on Gieidi Prime.

"Mommy!" A boy around 5 years old runs up to you and hugs your legs as you look at him in shock and confusion. “Dad said he would take us on a trip! To Lankiveil! We will swim in a real lake! Can you imagine that?!” – he asks excitedly and holds out his hands to you. You automatically scoop him up into your arms and place him on your hip, trying to figure out what the hell is happening.

Someone's quick footsteps echo in the corridor. You look past the child and see one of the harpies approaching you. She breathed a sigh of relief and bowed to you when she saw the boy in your arms.

"You can't run away like that, my lord Na-Baron. The baron told us to look after you."

"I didn't run away. I quickly left to find my mom. Dad wanted to speak with her. Besides, it's not my fault that you're so slow." Both you and the woman next to you do everything in your power not to burst out laughing. You smile, burying your face in your "son's" hair. He was so damn similar to his father and you.

The boy jumps out of your arms and grabs your hand. He runs with you through familiar corridors and hidden passages, not caring if you can keep up with him.

This way, you are in the war room in just a few seconds. Feyd stands with his back to you, analysing something on the hologram of the planets in front of him. He doesn't even flinch when the secret passage closes behind you with a bang.

"Dad, I brought mom." Your boy announces proudly, leading you to Feyd. The man turns and runs his hand through your son's hair. The little one smiles, showing a series of night-black teeth... with small cavities. He looked so damn cute. Like a little version of his father...

"Good job, Feydor. At least you are able to find your mother in her shadows. Go, torment your uncle. I've heard that you promised Rabban a great fight after our lessons." Feyd says teasingly, wrapping his arm around your waist. You roll your eyes at his comment about shadows, but you can't help but watch his interactions with your son in fascination.

Feyd was rarely around children; on Giedi Prime, they were quite... not shown much. They were a temporary inconvenience rather than a source of pride, and the noblest and most important of the inhabitants rarely cared for their own descendants. The nannies and servants usually took care of them. That's why you observed with admiration how soft and tender he was towards the boy, who was a living mix of both of you.

"I did! I can't wait to use the voice on him. I love you, dad. I love you, mom." He hugs you and practically runs to the training room, looking forward to training with his uncle.

"Just don't humiliate your uncle too much! And remember to turn on your shield!" Feyd shouts after him, and you feel like crying at the worried and caring look on his face. You've never seen him like this. Well, not when the two of you were in no danger. "In moments like these, I feel sorry for Rabban. He has to face a deadly mix of both of us. Devious beast, just like us. It doesn't matter that Rabban is not using all his strength against him; he would have defeated him anyway with his tactical mind and the tricks he learned from you. I need to start training with him so that he doesn't become too arrogant and self-confident after his numerous victories over Rabban. He must always be alert and ready for his opponent."

Honestly, you're not listening carefully to what he's saying. You are shocked by this new reality in which you find yourself. It was too surreal for you. But you couldn't stop your heart from fluttering as he spoke about his son with such tenderness and pride. Your son.

"What's wrong? You look pale. Are you two alright? You had unusual cravings again, and now you regret what you ate?" The concern in his eyes confuses you even more. He places his hand tenderly on your stomach and watches you carefully, searching for any sign of discomfort as you wonder what the hell happened to make him... like this. It must have been your imagination. This couldn't be any vision of your future, because even in your wildest dreams, you had never imagined it to be so... beautiful. "Y/N? Talk to me, my baroness. Should I call a healer?"

"I'm fine." You reply with a smile, shaking your head and placing your hand on his—the one that was still tenderly caressing your small pregnancy belly.

"You sure?" Your lips hurt from smiling as you try your hardest not to cry in front of him with emotion. So you grab him by the neck and pull him in for a kiss.

He caresses your lips so gently and tangles his hand so carefully in your hair that you feel like you're about to cry from the way this rare, soft side of him makes you feel that he so bravely shows you.

"Yes... we... we are perfect." You whisper, resting your forehead against his, not at all referring to yourself and the child. You close your eyes, letting yourself breathe in his scent as he draws patterns with his finger on your stomach, keeping his arm possessively around you.

You wrap your arms around him tightly and bury your face in his neck, holding him as close as you can. He laughs softly and presses a kiss on your temple.

"There you are... I almost forgot how sweetly clingy you are while carrying my heir under your heart. We should've tried for a sister for our Kwisatz Haderach a long time ago." He murmurs against your skin and lazily plays with your hair, massaging your head. "Are you sure you are feeling good? You have been very quiet. Usually, you would throw all sorts of insults and banter at me. It's not too late for you to swallow your pride and admit that you want to give birth on Arrakis or anywhere other than on this polluted planet. Damn what those old hags think of you; it won't make you any less of a Harkonnen."

Your heart swells with every word he says. It takes a lot of strength on your part not to cry in his arms and to keep your voice from shaking as you try to form a coherent sentence.

"I... just promise me you will never let me go." You ask him, not daring to even look at him because you're afraid you'll cry the moment his eyes meet yours.

"You stuck with us, my baroness. Nothing can separate us." He promises it to you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head and tightening his hold on you. You felt safe. Warm. Loved.

"Good." You mumble, snuggling into him even more. You act as if this is really happening, like this is really supposed to be your life and future.

You have come to the conclusion that it is impossible and unrealistic for Feyd to change like this. The Harkonnens were not soft; they did not lead a tender family life and cared for their wives if they did take one. But in the end, it's your dream. So you sink into his arms, enjoying the sweet words he whispers in your ear and the way he strokes your hair.

Feyd had never been in such a hurry to get to his chambers. His heart was beating fast, and adrenaline was pumping through his veins as he thought about what had happened in those few hours. The baron is missing. He was kidnapped or killed by the Fremen. Feyd was to take his place until they found his uncle's body or the council officially declared him dead.

And Feyd had his suspicions about who could have contributed to the sudden disappearance of his beloved uncle. You couldn't have given him a better birthday present. In fact, you could, and he was practically running back to his chambers to pick it up.

He enters the chambers and immediately senses that it is too quiet there. He tries to dispel any suspicions and enters his bedroom, only to find the bed empty.

“Y/N?” He calls out, knocking on the table a few times to make his presence known. He peeks into the bathroom, slightly hoping that maybe you're waiting for him in the hot bath to tease him even more, but you weren't there either.

He frowns. He wonders if this isn't one of your games. Isn't that what you wanted—to play cat and mouse with him, to give him an exciting chase before he wins and can finally ravage you—but he quickly dismisses that (charming) idea. You were as desperate as he was. You wouldn't leave this room unless it was urgent. At least he hoped so.

He clenches his fists as he steps out into the main room of his chambers. The idea crosses his mind that maybe this time you actually ran away from him. He wouldn't be surprised. Maybe you finally snapped; maybe he scared you too much; maybe he went a step too far today by injecting you with truth serum and torturing your former lover/friend.

After all, you didn't say you loved him. You also didn't say that you despised him or that you wanted him to leave you. You could have escaped from him when the perfect opportunity presented itself…

"My lord, Na-Baron?" The frightened tone of one of the guards' voices brings Feyd out of his thoughts. He realises that he has gone out into the hall and is standing in the doorway, staring blankly at his two men. He clears his throat and turns his cold, calculating gaze on one of them.

"Have you seen my right hand?" They both shake their heads, not daring to look at him.

"No one left or entered these chambers except you, my na-baron." His madness grows as he unintentionally compares them to you. You always had the courage to face his anger and look at him, proudly bearing his burning gaze.

If you really run away from him... he will unleash hundreds of hounds, bring you back to him at all costs, and make sure you never leave his side again. He won't give a fuck if that's what you want. He gave you countless opportunities to leave him and end things between you two in a civilised way without brutality or bloodshed, but you didn't want it. The only thing stopping you two from being together were your stupid prejudices and fear. He planned to get rid of them completely once he got his hands on you again.

"Bring her to me." He growls at them, turning to go back to his chambers.

"But my lord..." Before the soldier can finish his sentence, Feyd reaches for his blade and cuts his throat with one skillful move. It eases the tension in his muscles a little, but the moment the man falls dead to the floor in front of him, his mood sours again. Because he remembers how, in moments like these, you often gave him a disapproving look and cleaned up the mess he made.

He growls at the other soldier, who is shaking with fear, to clean up and closes the door behind him with a loud bang. He had to find you. You got too deep under his skin for him to just forget about you. First, he had to determine whether you disappeared alone or whether someone had helped you. And God save him who dared to steal his baroness from under his nose.

He carefully examines his chambers, slowly exploring every corner. He frowns when he sees a familiar, polished dagger in his weapon collection. He picks it up and looks at it carefully. It was your blade. The one you had attached to your thigh. You had never left it—not since you got it from him for your birthday.

"Na-baron. You wanted to see me." You say, walking onto the balcony of his chambers. Feyd doesn't turn towards you. He stares at Giedi Prime spread out below him, the city completely shrouded in darkness. Only the few white stars that managed to penetrate the polluted atmosphere illuminated the planet with a pale glow. You quickly catch the hint and stand next to him, also looking at the buildings.

"I hate it here." He confesses to you without knowing why. "My home planet had seas, lakes, wild landscapes, and tundra that no one dared to tame. And here everything is so..."

"Controlled. Polluted. Defiled. Exploited. No room for anything... wild or natural." You finish for him. He nods, agreeing with your words.

It's been two years since you served him. And he had to admit that he didn't have such a good man on whom he could always count. You were extraordinary. Loyal, faithful, brave, honourable, and cunning. Feyd wanted to liberate you. Not many could live up to his expectations, but you seemed to know exactly what he wanted and needed after just one look. It aroused in him... strange feelings. Disturbing. But he didn't think about it when he was around you.

He preferred to admire your… difference. The hair that flowed slightly in the wind, the way your eyebrows knitted together in anger when someone questioned your position as his right-hand man, the way you walked, the way you could disappear into the shadows, the cunning and strength of your mind. You were an extraordinary woman. He started to appreciate you for the time you spent planning together. Nightly conversations about the nobility of Giedi Prime, your battle plans, and court intrigues became… something other than work for him. He was starting to like being close to you.

And at night, when he was with his concubines... he found himself imagining you in their place. And how much he wanted you... so much so lately that every little thing you did was the hottest, erotic act for him, even the way you moaned in appreciation when you ate good food. He was fucked up. Like a teenager in love.

But he didn't love you. He could not. His uncle had told him many times that the Harkonnens knew no love or affection. He just had to wait until this desire passed or find another right hand and make you his concubine, which was a much more difficult task. There were many pussies and holes he could have used, but you were the only one who seemed to have a mind even remotely like his. He couldn't afford to lose such a good strategist and soldier.

"Do you need anything, Na-Baron?" Your gentle question brings him out of his thoughts. He nods and goes to his chambers. He returns quickly with a black box in his hands. He hands it to you, carefully watching your reaction.

"Happy birthday, little witch." He says, not hiding a small smirk when he sees your shock. He managed to surprise you so rarely that he treated every such moment with reverence, as if it were the most important moment of his life. Pathetic. What power you had over him…

"How did you..."

"I have my ways too. Open it." He interrupts you, excited by your reaction to his gift. He puts his hands behind his back, feeling his fingers tremble slightly as they begin to sweat. He ignores it, completely focused on you as you gently untie the white bow and open the box. You hold your breath, staring at the dagger in awe. "Steel from my home planet. Don't stab yourself with it by accident. When it pierces someone's body, a piece of the blade dissolves under the heat of the attacker's blood. A small dose of this metal in the human body causes, in the worst case, a moribund state and death. We call it the shadow killer because death occurs hours after the attack unless an antidote is administered."

"I... I don't know what to say." You whisper, taking out the blade and running your fingertips over it. He looks at you with pride. He made it all by himself. For you. A detail he would take with him to his grave rather than admit to anyone.

"You can thank me. Didn't the Bene Gesserit teach you this?" He asks teasingly, making you roll your eyes at him. However, you give him such a beautiful smile that his black, rotten heart beats faster, letting him know about you for the first time in years.

"Thank you, Feyd." He melts when you say his name. You used it so infrequently that he had every little moment seared into his memory when you let your professionalism slip through and did it. And he loved the way his name sounded on your lips. He couldn't help but imagine what it would sound like when you shouted it, under much more pleasant circumstances.

"You know, we Harkonnens kiss each other on the lips as an expression of gratitude." He says this as your eyes move back to the dagger. He sees you freeze at the memory of it. You blush slightly, but enough for Feyd to notice the slight change. And he absolutely loves seeing you blushing and confused.

"I'm not a Harkonnen." You respond with a cheeky smile, and he shakes his head in amusement.

"But you are on our planet. I guess you should follow our rules and customs, right? Besides, in a few years, you'll be considered one of us."

"If I survive."

"I think you have a good chance." He smiles at your banter. The pride in his chest grows even more when, instead of looking at his black teeth in horror, you giggle, unfazed. You were so different…

However, he freezes when you take a step towards him. You cup his cheeks in your hands and pull him in for a kiss. He almost moans into your mouth like a total slut. It takes all of his willpower not to kiss you back, not to pull you closer, and not to actually taste your lips. But he can't. He won't show that he is that weak for you. So he keeps this fake kiss very professional. He is digging his nails into his palms until they bleed, as he is too afraid that he will accidentally reach for your body and pull you closer to him.

You pull away from him as suddenly as you place your lips on him. And he's both shocked and angry that your lips left his so quickly. His eyes wander to your lips as you lick them. Feyd curses himself for how badly he wants that pink tongue of yours to wrap around his own... or the hardening manhood in his pants.

"Thank you, Na-Baron Feyd Rautha." You whisper and head towards the exit, leaving him there, completely horny and wanting more of you—your touch, your kisses, your lips, your taste, your everything. He feels himself blushing at the thought of what he wants to do to you.

Yeah... Feyd couldn't love you. A lie he had told himself since that night every time he felt his heart pound in his chest whenever he saw you.

"Brother… I mean... my Baron…" Rabban's voice reaches him vaguely as he continues to recall that day. Now he knew the taste of your lips... and your more intimate parts. And damn him if he doesn't put his fingers and tongue on you again.

"What?" He growls at him furiously, unsheathing his dagger and attaching yours to his body. The blade of the dagger was a bit uneven. And soft in his hands. It must have been used recently. And from the dried blood on the handle, he guessed that someone had clumsily tried to clean it. Someone took you from him.

He returns to the bedroom and grabs your shawl from the floor. He puts it to his nose and inhales your scent. He calms down a little—not enough for his fury to disappear, but enough to start thinking logically.

He was going to turn Arrakis into a living hell.

"The council has met. All high families. They are waiting for you."

Feyd would ignore it and go straight to find you, but your disgruntled face appears before his eyes. He would know that you would advise him to go to the council and present himself as best as possible—show his strength. He sighed, wrapping your shawl around his wrist as he made a decision.

"I see. Let's go." He announces this as he leaves the room and doesn't wait for Rabban to follow him. His brother runs after him, cursing under his breath as he tries to keep up with his fast pace. Feyd had a plan in his head and a clear goal. He'll have you in his arms at the end of the day, or he'll burn this damn planet down looking for you.

"And your witch?" Feyd suddenly stops. He turns his head slowly and looks at his brother, narrowing his eyes at him.

He shakes his head, knowing full well that you would castrate his brother before allowing him and his men to take you away. Rabban was too stupid for that and too afraid of him. If Feyd had to bet on who did it, he would choose the Bene Gesserit or Atreides with his Fremen.

"She won't be there. Order our men to close the airspace and monitor movements in the desert. Tell them to keep an eye on the Reverend Mothers and the Bene Gesserit. If they object to or question my decision, order to tell them that the baron is only trying to keep them safe. They are to report their every move to me. Once you've done that, join the meeting."

"Me?" He asks in shock, following obediently after him.

"You are my brother. We have to show that we are strong and that there are no divisions between us. Especially after my uncle is dead. They may think we are weak targets and want to get rid of us, just like we did with the Atreides. We must assert our dominance."

Rabban nods, looking at him warily. Feyd doesn't care what he looks like. They took you away from him. He'll do anything to get you back. It doesn't matter if he makes you seem mad or a worse psychopath than he already is.

Why does he need a reputation as a bloodthirsty beast if someone dared to get their hands on what's his anyway? People sentenced themselves to death and then dared to say that he was unpredictable. Pathetic idiots. He hoped you were giving them hell. His heart ached uncomfortably at the thought of someone hurting you while he had to deal with the nobility.

"Let's be honest. Baron Vladimir is dead. Paul Atreides is still at large, probably planning our murder, and the Fremen are rampaging in the desert, worshipping the false prophet. What are you going to do about it, Baron Feyd Rautha?" Feyd clenched his fists under the table. He slowly stopped being surprised that his uncle had become such a man.

After talking to the emperor for a moment, he felt like cutting out his tongue and gouging out the eyes of other high families staring at him. As if his role was to play their hero...

"We have already taken the first measures. It only takes a few bombs to extinguish the spirit of these desert rats. As for Paul Atreides... my people are looking for him. And my right hand went missing the night my uncle died. We suspect this is a related case. I'm going to head out into the desert and join the search. Of course, leaving members of high families in the care of my brother and some of our people. No one will leave Arrakis until the traitors are killed."

His calm, unruffled demeanour, and silent threat caused a slight stir in the room. Feyd suppressed a smirk. He loved controlling the crowd this way. However, he knew that impressing the emperor would be more difficult. Words were not enough to prove that the Harkonnens were a force they should be afraid of. And so far, his brother and uncle have only brought humiliation to their family. He had to fix it. Only with you by his side. That's why he had to leave this pointless meeting as soon as possible and start taking some action. His weapon craved blood.

"It wouldn't be the first time a concubine had gone missing." Princess Irulan comments. Feyd shifts his gaze to her, analysing her carefully. She was paler than usual, her posture more indifferent, as if she were trying hard to hide her true emotions behind her mask. Feyd made a note to look at her more closely.

"Probably not, Princess Irulan. However, in light of recent events—the Atreides attack, the death of my dear uncle, and the increased activity of the Fremen—I am certain that this is not a mere disappearance. This is a deliberate action. Attack on noble houses. Attack on the Harkonnens. And maybe I wouldn't be so concerned about my right hand being missing if it weren't for the baby." After his words, silence fell in the room. Feyd delights in the shocked look from the princess and the nobles in the room.

"The baby?"

"My heir she carries." Feyd nods, repeating his words to the emperor.

Feyd could barely contain his smirk, knowing full well how much you would like to see the faces of representatives of great houses now. To say they were shocked was an understatement. But what else was he supposed to say? That he goes looking for you with a thousand of his troops because he loves you and simply can't lose you? Only the thought of losing his heir was... a good reason to search all of Arrakis and close the airspace—any possibility of leaving the planet.

Because who would stop Harkonnen from desperately searching for the woman who carries his heir? Even a fool wouldn't dare. And if the Bene Gesserit were behind your kidnapping, they wouldn't dare do anything to you either after hearing that... surprising information. After all, they needed his offspring for their plans. Why would they destroy one? Feyd just hoped to get to you first before anyone discovered that you weren't pregnant at all.

"You horny dog! Why didn't you say anything?" Rabban pats him on the back, laughing hoarsely. It breaks the awkward silence in the room. But still, everyone's eyes are on him.

"We preferred to wait with any celebration until we were sure that the baby was growing healthily. After all, this could be our Kwisatz Hederach. Of course, now the safe return of my fiancée with our child is much more important. Therefore, I hope that the Emperor will consent to whatever… measures I intend to take in this matter. Whoever dared to raise a hand against the Harkonnens will pay the weight of their crimes in blood." Feyd continues his lies, knowing full well that you will kick his ass when you find out he called you his fiancée in front of great houses.

"But… I talked to the Baron…"

"My uncle... has not been in good health for a long time. May he rest in peace. Whatever arrangement he made with you, the emperor, during my reign it must be discussed again. Unfortunately, he will not rise from the grave and give us all the details."

"Of course… Baron Feyd-Rautha." The Emperor nods at him. Feyd takes the opportunity and decides to leave the room while he can. He nods to his brother, who turns out to be intelligent enough to understand the message and stands up as well.

"Excellent. If you don't mind, we'll leave now."

He doesn't wait for an answer. He just goes out, with Rabban close behind him. He orders him to prepare the army for the march and place spies around the fortress. They split up halfway to Feyd's rooms. He goes to prepare for his departure, hoping that Rabban will cope with the tasks he has entrusted to him. He missed you. He knew he wouldn't have to worry about anything if you were by his side.

He sighs as he enters his chambers. He stops in his tracks, seeing Princess Irulan next to his collection of weapons. He closes the door behind him with a bang, announcing his presence. The woman trembles and turns towards him.

"Baron."

"Princess." He responds coldly, looking at her carefully. He didn't say anything more. He wanted her to explain her sudden presence in his chambers. He notices, however, that his new title sounds nasty coming from her mouth, no matter how seductively she tries to say it. He imagines you whispering it in his ear as you ride him on his new throne on Giedi Prime...

"I thought you were leaving." He returns to the present moment, making sure he remembers to fulfil this fantasy once you both get back from this damn planet.

"I needed to change first." He replies and clears his throat, suggesting that she should leave. Unfortunately, she either doesn't want to or doesn't understand his hint and stays where she is, watching him carefully.

He feels like he's playing chess. One wrong move, and he loses a pawn. He hated this game until you started playing with him in the evenings, when you exchanged gossip from the court and your own comments. He doesn't remember how many times you fell asleep and he carried you to his bed. His harpies hated these evenings, and he too hated them at the beginning. Over time, he was just waiting for that moment when he was able to watch you snuggle into his pillow, sleeping peacefully.

"I… that's good. I was hoping to talk to you before you left."

"Talk then." He says this and starts taking off his clothes. He notices her blush and the way she looks away. But there's nothing sweet or funny about this gesture, unlike the way you do it. He changes into his usual tactical battle armour as fast as he can, still thinking about the way you used to even shout at him when he was going fully naked around you.

"I was shocked by this news. About the baby. And your fiancée."

"Why?"

"Well, you know very well, my lord, that the Bene Gesserit has planned to unite our families. This shouldn't have happened." He furrows his hairless eyebrows, feeling the anger start to boil within him again. How dare she tell him what he should do? Who should get pregnant, and who should not? He didn't care what the Bene Gesserit wanted. Feyd wanted you, and you probably wanted him. That was all that mattered.

"Would you rather be at my fiancée's place? Would you rather carry my baby instead of her?" He asks dangerously, approaching her slowly. Before she can react, he lunges forward and almost crushes her neck in his grip when he prevents her from using the voice. "You are trembling with fear, princess. It is pathetic that the Bene Gesserit even thought we could connect in any way. Even if we got married, I wouldn't lay a finger on you. At best, I would kill you right after I consolidated my power as emperor. Now that we both know where we stand... Tell me, where is my little witch?"

"The Reverend Mother sent her to Paul Atreides' hideout." She answers him obediently. Feyd smirks sadistically and maliciously as her eyes widen in shock when she realises he has used the voice on her. "How?" She managed to ask before Feyd tightened his grip on her throat again, giving her a bored look.

"With one of your witches by my side, do you think I won't do anything to learn your tricks? I'm not an idiot to let an opportunity like this pass me by. You think that I didn't also see you wince with every move at the meeting? This must have happened right after my fiancée stabbed you when you kidnapped her, right? The poison took effect, didn't it? Are you feeling weak? Do you feel how you slowly lose your vitality with each breath? It will get even worse. Maybe my fiancée will have the mercy to give you the antidote, but I have no intention of doing so. Now listen to me carefully. You won't say or write even a word to inform anyone about what happened. You will lock yourself in your room and endure the effects of the poison without complaining to anyone that something is wrong with you. Get out of my sight before I finish my beloved's work."

He throws her away like a rag doll, feeling defiled just by touching her neck. The only reason he kept her alive was because she was the emperor's daughter, and he couldn't afford to get rid of her YET. She runs away from him as soon as his grip on her neck is gone.

He smiles mockingly and leaves his chambers as well. Now that he knew you would be in the desert, he was going to dig up those damn sand folds and kill all the Fremen and Bene Gesserit who had a hand in your kidnapping.

And once you are by his side again, he will give you the heads of the princess, Corrino's Reverend Mother, and Atreides on a golden platter—an engagement present worthy of a real baroness. Well, he'll have to convince you to marry him first. He sighs, realising how much work is still ahead of him.

You wake up feeling numb. Entirely. There's a gag in your mouth, your hands are tied behind your back, and your ankles are cuffed together, completely preventing you from moving.

You look around your surroundings, realising that you are in one of the Fremen hideouts. A small room carved into the sandy rock resembles a prison cell. You gasp as you try to get off the floor. With a groan, you lean against the cold wall behind you as you somehow manage to sit up. You wonder how the hell you ended up here. And how can you escape when you are completely incapacitated?

Suddenly, the door to the room opens, and Corrino's Reverend Mother enters. You look at the woman with a calculating gaze, showing no emotion other than disgust.

"Y/N Y/L/N. We thought you were dead."

You roll your eyes at her. The old hag knew perfectly well that you had a gag. The fact that she expected any response from you was ridiculous.

"You betrayed your sisters. We should have killed you the moment you were recognised by one of us. You're lucky we're still keeping you alive."

You would snort if you didn't have a gag in your mouth. The Bene Gesserit knew no mercy; if they kept you alive, it was because they still needed you in their plans. After all, you were the strongest of them, which might not be visible now, but it was the truth. They didn't train you all your life and shape you into their ideal form of some sick Holly Mother, just to throw you away now.

You are tensing as the old woman walks up to you and painfully grabs your jaw. You glare at her furiously with your own, not showing an ounce of fear or remorse. What you wouldn't give to have at least a butter knife with you…

"Do you think you are smart, child? That you managed to escape fate? Not at all. Our visions may have been blurry, but now we see everything. Paul Atreides sees everything. After his plan succeeds, he becomes emperor, and you will become his concubine and the mother of the Kwisatz Hederach. Until then, we will keep you under control."

"Who allowed you to come in here?" A cold, commanding voice echoes throughout the small cell. The Reverend Mother steps away from you as if she's been burned by him, giving you the opportunity to look at Paul Atreides as she steps inside. You shiver as his cold gaze falls on you, but you show them nothing but disgust and anger. If you're going to die, at least you will make sure that before you do that, you'll be remembered by them as one big pain in the ass.

"I..."

"Silience!" Atreides yells at her as she feebly tries to explain herself to him. You frown, wondering how the hell he gained such power over the Bene Gesserit. "Leave us alone."

The woman nods obediently and leaves, closing the bars to your cell behind her. You shift your gaze to Atreides, examining him carefully. He was… more portly than you remembered him last time. He became stronger, tougher, and visibly hardened by the sands of Arrakis, since his posture was stiff as armour. You catch yourself thinking that if he stood in the arena in Giedi Prime, he would still lose to your na-baron.

"I am not here to hurt you, Y/N." Atreides says, walking over to you. He crouches down so that you are both at the same height. You look closely at the features of his face, analysing them carefully, trying to read what's behind the strange behaviour of the mysterious Fremen's prophet. "We both have our roles to play here. Something that is above us. I learned a lot about you.I know about your service to the Harkonnens, what you endured as a Bene Gesserit, and every darkest part of your past. And I know you are a wise and very strong woman. You probably understand why all this is so important and why we must fulfil the prophecy and take our places in this story." He says, removing your gag. You clear your throat as he finishes his speech, and, trying to hide your concern, you growl, your voice so hoarse and dripping with madness that Feyd would surely be proud of you:

"You are a mad freak. Feyd will kill you as soon as he finds you. And hell knows, he will come for me. It will be pure joy to fight him for the privilege of being the one who impales your head." Atreides gives you a small smile. He shakes his head, amused by what you're saying. He stands up, helping you to stand on your two feet as well, placing his hands on your waist respectfully, and touching you as little as necessary.

"Come with me. Let me show you something." He says this in an extremely calm voice as he removes the chain from around your ankles. You briefly consider kicking him and trying to escape, but you realise there's not much you can do with your hands tied. You are also still weak—too weak to maintain control over someone else for long with the voice. "Do not be afraid. I told you. I have no reason to hurt you." He encourages, concluding that your hesitation is out of fear and not a desire to attack him.

"I lived for years among the Harkonnens. I'm not afraid of anything except myself."

He gives you an ironic smirk, as if he were convinced that he was an evil worse than the Harkonnens. You don't care about his poor attempts to intimidate you. You weren't some desert rat to be terrified of a man with nice curls and eyes.

You walk through a series of corridors, and of course he leads you, holding your arm tightly and making sure you don't do anything stupid on this little trip around his kingdom. It brings you great satisfaction. Your reputation had obviously taken its toll if he continued to be vigilant around you while you were still half sedated and tied up without any weapons.

You smile sadistically at the Fremen you pass. They look away from you, too afraid to meet your gaze. You were known among them as the Na-Baron's bloodthirsty right-hand, whose cruelty rivalled that of many Harkonnens.

You and Atreides go deeper down. You slowly start to feel dizzy from the number of corridors, corners, and stairs he tells you to take, but eventually you reach a more spacious room. You sigh, feeling the humid air—a sweet change from the dry Arrakis wind. Atreides takes the torch and leads you deeper into the room. You gasp as you see a large pool full of water.

"The Fremen treat water as something sacred. They collect it from the bodies of their people; the water of the more deserving people goes to such pools."

"This is a waste. And stupid, considering that they are dying from a lack of water while having pools of it safely hidden from the Harkonnens." You notice, staring at the pool of water. You tense as you feel Paul's searching gaze on you. You turn your head and give him an intimidating look. He doesn't even flinch. He is unfazed as he continues to analyse you—something you don't like at all. You wish Feyd was here. He would gouge Atreides' eyes out the first time his gaze lingered on you for a second too long.

"Possible. But it's not the first time we waste something in the name of faith, right?"

"Faith befuddles and stupefies. Same as prophecies. We are responsible for our own fate. It doesn't matter what some crazy old man wrote in the books a hundred years ago, probably under the influence of drugs or other alcohol. No one influences our future except ourselves."

His silence at your words worries you. You turn your head to look at him. A small smirk spreads across his face—a sign that your words didn't outrage him as much as they were supposed to. He nods, agreeing with your words, and you realise what he really means. The son of a bitch was testing you. Logical, considering that he was the one who started the cult of him. He thought like you. He did not believe in any Kwisatz Hederach, and even if he did, he considered himself one. He just needed you to keep the propaganda and people's faith in him.

He wanted to show that he had tamed the Harkonnen's witch.

Atreides walks over to you and carefully places a hand on your shoulder, directing you to a different side of the room. You pass by a pool of water. In the centre, there is a large stone bowl on a platform.

"The Reverend Mothers call it the mirror of wisdom. It shows us our future if we continue on the path we are currently on. Look. See what awaits you with your crazy beast by your side."

"It's very brave of you to think that I'm not one." He chuckled at your words. He lets go of you and takes two steps back, keeping his amused, curious gaze on you.

"The Harkonnens are different from us. You may think you are one of them, that you have absorbed their ways and behaviours, but the truth is that you are not one of them at all. You may have adapted to survive among them, but can you look me in the eyes and tell me you don't long for something more... normal?"

"Normality is for the weak." You reply, huffing furiously. "Apart from that, my life has always been different from normal. This is my normality, Atreides."

"Even the bravest warrior needs a break, a moment of respite. Look. Aren't you curious?"

You were very damn curious. Especially after that strange dream/vision you had. So, without saying a word, you approach the bowl of water. You take a breath and dive your head into it, letting the images flood your mind.

This time you are not on Giedi Prime, and you are not a participant in the events. From a distance, you watch the older version of yourself adjust the crown on her head. Empress's crown.

You see yourself flinching in the mirror as the door to your chamber bursts open. Feyd, dressed as an emperor, walks in furiously, heading straight for you. He pushes the large mirror, smashing it against the wall with a roar.

However, you don't care about his sudden attack and watch him, unfazed, as he gasps with rage.

"Is something wrong, honey?" You ask in an almost too-sweet tone, mocking him.

"Do you have the nerve to ask me that? Why don't you tell me where my concubine is instead? Where did you send her? You gave the corpses to the harpies to eat? If any harm has come to her, I will make you eat all three of them before I tear out your cunning heart from your chest, witch."

"You'd have to touch me first. And we both know that lately you're more afraid of laying a finger on me than of our son dethroning you. Which is very surprising, by the way. Has that concubine of yours brainwashed you so much?" You see yourself smiling mockingly as you watch his anger grow with every word you say.

"Don't talk about her like that. Unlike you, she's not a cold, uncaring, selfish bitch."

"Of course not. A smart woman wouldn't willingly sleep with you." This completely breaks the remnants of his composure. He walks over to the older version of you and wraps his hand around her neck, pressing her against the wall.

But he doesn't do it the same way he does with you. It's not a gentle neck hold, a warning, or anything sexual—something that would turn you both on. He just cuts you off, choking you, watching with sick satisfaction as you squirm, trying to get out of his grasp.

"What's stopping me from ending your miserable life? You have already given me a son; your usefulness has long passed, and yet I still let you breathe the same air as me." He says this, tightening his grip on your neck. You gasp as he pushes you away.

From the way you fall to the floor and choke for air, you assume that the older version of you was only seconds away from suffocating. But you don't surrender to him; you don't give him any satisfaction in trying to intimidate you. You start laughing derisively, shaking your head in amusement as you slowly get up from the floor.

"Aw... you couldn't kill me. You're like a dog. You bark and do little. You love me too much to kill me, don't you remember? How did you beg me all those years ago for a piece of my feelings? Who said I love you first? Who was begging on his knees for my hand? Who wanted to have a child? You. You are just a desperate little boy looking for love and affection. You probably even liked the fact that I'm jealous of you and kill your lover? Unfortunately, I don't give a shit who you fuck. I didn't steal your whore, so get out and don't waste my time, husband." You mock him, waiting expectantly for his next move.

He stares at you with pure hatred and resentment. You feel the tension in the room begin to build; the immense anger and disgust between the two of you are palpable. You have no fucking idea how you came to be so hostile towards each other, but... you can't say you're surprised. Because if you were already imagining a future with Feyd... this was the scenario that came to your mind most often.

The two of you were too broken to trust each other and entrust each other with the remnants of the heart that beat and remained within you.

Feyd looks like he wants to say something. But he gives up and instead just leaves the room, slamming the door behind him.

You swallow, observing your pathetic fate. The empress locked in a golden palace. At eternal war with everyone. Lonely. Your heart aches at the thought of this being your fate. This is what you were running from. Before relegating you solely to the vessel she was to carry and give to the world, Kwisatz Hederach, Because what would be the use of you then? You would be rejected and alone. Waiting to die. However, you didn't expect your end to look like THIS.

A figure emerges from the darkness of the room through a hidden passage—a man who is a copy of you and Feyd. You see a similarity in him, in your movements, in your creeping through the shadows. He approaches you from behind, holding a dagger similar to the one Feyd gave you on your birthday. You don't react when you feel steel around your neck, as if you had long ago come to terms with how you would die—and by whose hands.

"You were right, mother… I was destined to achieve much more."

And with that, he cuts your throat. Crimson blood runs down your dress, almost invisible against the black material. You die quickly. Quietly. Like a rat...

"Have you seen something interesting?" Atreides' voice reaches you as you step away from the bowl after the vision ends. You sigh heavily, breathing heavily. Drops of water roll down your face and soak into your linen shirt.

"Screw you." You snap at him, trying to wipe your face on the frame. He tears off a piece of his shavl and walks over to you. He wipes the water from your face and hair, not caring about the scowl you throw at him in warning.

"I told you. The future with Harkonnen cannot end well. But if you stay with me, I promise nothing will happen to you. You can be more free with me than you ever could with him."

And you're tempted as hell to accept his offer. You can't say you're not interested at all, that what you saw hasn't made you question your choices... but you've been a Harkonnen for so many years. Could you really forget all this so easily? Forget about Feyd? Maybe in that stupid Bene Gesserit's bowl you saw your tragic end at his side... but did it really have to end like this? You could avoid all this. Take a risk to gain something much better...

"So this is your offer? Freedom and security for lending my uterus for 9 months?" You ask him, wanting to know exactly what options and choices you have.

"In very simple terms, yes." He nods, still staring at you. You find this very irritating of him; you were usually the one who pierced other people with your gaze. Not the other way around.

"What for? You're telling these fools that you're their saviour and the messiah. Kwisatz Hederach, ahead of his time. Why do you need me?"

"I need the support of the Reverend Mothers of other families. I may have... your powers and be the strongest of them all, but I've learned that if you can gain someone's support in a peaceful way, it's better to try it before reaching for a weapon."

Atreides stared at you like you were a puzzle to solve. You didn't like the hidden arrogance in his eyes—the belief that he was truly capable of discovering all your secrets.

Maybe he knew your past, and maybe he saw visions of the future, possible scenarios of what might have happened after his decisions, but the present was yours. And only yours. You will be more than happy to show him that no one could tear out all your fangs and claws.

"Feyd will kill you sooner and bind me with tighter chains than you did, than he ever allowed such a turn of events." You say confidently, convinced that he won't just leave you. In this situation, it's a huge relief for you... but in your head, you can still see his sadistic smirk as he choked you against the wall.

"Not if I kill him." You tense up at his words, and your heart starts to beat faster as you process his words. You would never think that Feyd Rautha could ever die—not by another person's hand, of course. And certainly not Atreides.

He fought too well, was too intelligent and cunning to fail in battle, and yet... you couldn't deny that that one simple sentence Paul said with such confidence didn't send a cold shiver of fear down your spine or that you felt no threat.

"Have you ever seen him in the arena? Or how does he fight? You may have become stronger thanks to your time on Arrakis, but he was trained from childhood to be a small, psychopathic killer and ruthless warrior. You don't stand a chance, Atreides. You won't last a minute fighting him."

"Maybe not in an equal fight. But by trick? More than one great king fell under the intrigue of a lesser man."

"Are you talking about your father or maybe even your mother?" You ask mockingly, making his jaw tense and his hands clench into fists. You are very pleased with yourself that you finally managed to hit his sweet spot. Feyd would be proud of you.

"I'm talking about what will happen. Feyd Rautha will die. From my hands." The more he talks about it, the more your anger grows. However, you decide to stay calm and continue the little exchange between the two of you, trying to get something useful from him.

"Are you that sure about your visions? You don't hesitate for a moment, Atreides? It must be so boring knowing what's going to happen. Never having any element of surprise…"

"There are no more certain and clear visions than mine. Maybe you should also start believing in them?"

"Not as long as I have my brain." And my own visions. You add it in your mind, thinking about what you had dreamed about before you woke up in this hole.

"The rumors about you don't lie… Harkonnen's witch." He hums as he walks over to you. His hand reaches up to your cheek, using the pad of his thumb to gently wipe your cheek clean of the drop of water still left on it.

You shiver, staring into his eyes. His touch burns, but not in a nice, familiar way. And when you realise that the reason you're not attracted to him is because he doesn't have the familiar ice-blue irises, pale skin, and bald head, it scares you more than Atreides' sudden proximity to you.

"I'm glad I didn't disappoint you, Atreides." You whisper, moving away from him. You quickly lean in, wanting to bite, or preferably bite off, his finger that was caressing your skin, but he withdraws his hand and takes a step away from you. He laughs at your feeble attempt to harm him.

He opens his mouth to say something, but then the ground around you starts shaking. The sand rock crumbles, causing some of it to fall from the ceiling onto the ground. Atreides looks at you suspiciously.

"Didn't you see it in your visions? Maybe there's a sandworm crawling through your halls?" You ask mockingly, shrugging your shoulders.

"Stay here." He commands you using the voice. He doesn't spare you a second glance, simply heading for the exit. You look at him in disbelief and quickly follow him. The last thing you want is to get buried in one of these rats' corridors because one of them summoned a sandworm in the wrong way.

"I could be of much more use to you there than here." You say, as you are catching up with him, desperately trying to convince him.

"Not if these are Harkonnens!" He replies without looking back and slamming the door shut. You kick them in rage, looking around angrily at the large hall where he left you.

"That's the point…" You sigh, fed up with it all. You walk around the room, trying to find a way out, but even when you manage to find the side passages, you can't take a step beyond the threshold. You are forced to stay inside. "Fucking Atreides."

Instead of wandering aimlessly around the room, you decide to try and break the shackles that bind your hands. You try to smash them against the stalagmite, only to hit harder as the metal cuts into your wrists. After a while, when you have released all your anger, you somehow manage to free your hands. You rub your wrists, letting your blood soak into the sleeve of your linen shirt. You close your eyes and listen to the quiet sound of the water and the footsteps you hear from the upper floors. Something is happening...

Frustrated, you wander over to the pool filled with water. You crouch on the edge and dip your toes in the water. You watch the drops fall, wondering how many people have already given their lives. How many died at the hands of the Harkonnens? You wonder whether your water and blood will also join the ranks of their victims. It seems surreal to you now that Feyd could ever kill you or your own son... but how were you supposed to know what your future was supposed to be? Were you supposed to trust some strange visions or yourself?

While playing with water, you freeze when you suddenly see someone leaning over you. Before you can turn around, a hand covers your mouth, and another wraps around your waist, lifting you up. You scream and kick, trying to get out of someone's tight grip, but your attempts to break free are futile. You freeze when you hear a familiar, raspy voice whisper in your ear.

"Don't worry, it's me. It's just me. Shhh… You're safe. It's me." You relax a little in his arms. You reach your hand up to his and remove it from your mouth. He loosens his grip enough for you to turn in his arms.

"Feyd." You sigh when you see his face. You throw your arms around him and nuzzle your face into his neck. You rest your chin on his shoulder and breathe in his scent as you hold onto him tightly.

You hear him breathe a sigh of relief as well. He places a kiss on the top of your head and hugs you tighter. After a moment, he pulls away from you—not too far away, only a bit—so he can look at your face and see if you have any injuries.

"You're getting out of here. Our men are hidden in every corridor of this hole. Take a few of them and go to the exit. They will take you to the ship. Wait for me there." He gently cups your cheeks in his hands and forces you to look into his eyes. Your heart beats faster as you recognise that concerned look in his eyes from your dream, mixed with anger. "Y/N. I mean it. I know you want to fight; you're brave and a great warrior, but do it for me and just go to that damn ship."

"No. Wait, listen to me. I have to tell you something..."

"You'll tell me you love me later, now you have to get out of here, so I can destroy this place." He interrupts you, gently pushing you towards the exit. You feel anger and frustration building within you as yet another person tries to control you and tell you what to do. No matter how sweet and protective Feyd is acting now, you are fed up with constantly obeying everyone around you.

"Stop!" You shout at him, making him stop in his tracks in shock. Under any other circumstances, you would laugh at the surprised look he gives you, but not now. "Do you trust me?" You ask, looking at him expectantly. You know you're asking a lot of him right now, but if you're going to change your future, you have to act now. And fast. Very fast.

"Y/N this isn't the best…"

You both know this isn't an ordinary question. It means something more. Admitting something you both had been avoiding since the first day your blades met in a little skirmish that earned you his sympathy. He had long admired you for your mind, intelligence, ingenuity, cunning, and natural charm. But could he trust you completely?

"I… I do. If I trust anyone, it's you. Only you."

You feel tears welling up in your eyes. You take a step towards him, cupping his cheek in your hand and kissing him. He tenses in surprise but kisses you back pretty quickly, moaning into your mouth as you express all the passion and desire you feel for him. He wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you closer to him, wanting to feel your body against his to make sure this isn't some dream. You caress the skin of his neck, shuddering as an electric shiver runs through you as he deepens the kiss, taking everything you have to offer him.

Kissing Feyd always felt like it was the first kiss between the two of you. He kissed like he fought—with his whole being, not holding back, transmitting all his passion and desire. He didn't even know how much you needed to taste all of him right now. And how bittersweet that kiss was for you.

You reluctantly pull away from him and press your forehead against his. You close your eyes, letting out a shaky breath.

Just as he's about to open his mouth, probably to tell you the same thing, you lean in and kiss him again. Slower, more gentle. A few tears escape you, allowing you both to taste them through the kiss.

You reach for the sword attached to his waist with trembling hands.

"I'm so sorry. But it's not our time yet." You whisper, moving away from him just as Paul Atreides returns to the room. He slowly walks towards you, his sword dripping with black Harkonnen blood. And you decide that if anyone spills blood in this room, it will be you. It must be you.

Paul is beyond shocked by your actions. He looks for a moment at Feyd's black sword, the tip sticking out of his back—proof of what you did. After a moment, his eyes meet yours. After a while, he approaches you, sheathes his sword, and smiles proudly.

"This will be the beginning of a wonderful alliance, Lady Y/N." He says this, offering you his hand, which you reach for. You shake them, glaring at each other, assessing each other's behaviour as a new agreement forms between you.

You smile, hiding your fear as best as you can and holding back tears when you see Feyd's unconscious body out of the corner of your eye. But you've come too far to change your mind. From now on, you decide your fate.

Only you.

To be continued...

Taglist: (I REALLLLY hope that everyone who wanted to be here is here...😅 I;m sorry if I missed someone <3) @skymoonandstardust @prettybubblesintheair @thegabbyh @himesuedi @wo-ming-bai @beebeechaos @mamawiggers1980 @moonsoulk @avidreader73 @heartarianagran @dreamlandcreations @ancientbeing10 @lovereadingfanfic @jeansjoie @workof-a-rr-t @aixicl @ladyredstar1991 @evangelineimagine @hobobobo-fett56 @happyant3 @marsflys @aaaaaamond @kamcrazy123 @k1swass @yum-yahgurt @tyns13 @oh-you-mean-me @menari @tyns13 @vaf24 @dacreshoney @emrennoll-blog @tian-monique @slightlypossessed @celestialadrift @lauramooij05 @flaps200 @chixnugg22 @aaaaaamond @marvelfangirl04 @sw33tsnow @emeraldsgirl @imyourbubblegumpop @tempt-ress @harkonnin @k1swass @alana4610 @cloudroomblog @lotus-888 @lowlyloved @spoolsofgreenspoolsofblack @w3ird11 @kythefangirl25 @hobobobo-fett56 @nj452896 @oneandonlybbygrl @noirecatt @iloved1lfs0 @mamawiggers1980 @lololfixu @barnes70stark @obsessedvibee @aaaaaamond @workof-a-rr-t

#feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha x you #feyd rautha #feyd rautha harkonnen x reader #feyd rautha harkonnen #dune x reader #THE BEST FEYD FIC EVER #I’m so in love with this story

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thoushallnotfall · 4 years ago

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Hi! Would you say David was obsessed with Michael or had real feelings for him? I saw a girl talking once about how David, even after his brothers getting killed, still talks to Michael to "stop fighting him" and still asks him to join them. I was thinking about that and I wondered if this was just a form to David to tricky him again or he was really trying to convince Michael to give up and stay with him? And if so, would it be because of feelings or because he hates to not get what he wants?

Real talk? 100% honest opinion? David is a repressed bisexual wreck and this movie is as gay as the Fourth of July.

Now I feel like I’ve touched on this a little bit in some of these previous “deep dive” questions (thank you guys so much for continuing to send me these I swear I am on cloud nine right now) but honestly what I personally feel the characters themselves would realistically do/feel/how they would react to things as real beings with complex emotions/backstories, and how this 1h 38m horror/comedy movie treats their reactions are not the same thing.

Look, as much as we love the characters and as writers and fans have expanded on them as much as we can and actually care about them as individual characters with like, actual thoughts and feelings--they’re the monster antagonists of the film. This was also the 80s. They’re not really meant to have complex motivations.

Even when I read the prequel script Schumacher literally cares so little about developing the personalities of the other lost boys that aren’t David he just kind of throws their names in at random when they have to talk, and I know that because at the end when the fifth lost boy that was just in the prequel script had died, they still gave him a line postmortem because they literally don’t care who says the line--they just plug their names in at random.

All the personality we get for the other boys comes 100% from the actors, from how they developed their characters. Yes, they get direction and I’m sure Schumacher had an idea of what he wanted for each one, but I think it was only at a surface level (I would murder someone for a copy of Lost in the Shadow so I could read more about this, but c'est la vie). They’re background props in the movie; I mean I don’t even remember hearing Dwayne’s name in the movie. He’s got like, maybe three lines? One of which we all just choose to ignore as writers because it’s so out of character for him. (I cringe whenever I get to that scene in the movie every. single. time) It took the actors actually caring about their roles and trying to develop them further for us to be able to pick up on all the little things and wring out what personality we can from their performances.

So as far as the David/Michael dynamic. I would say David 100% has feelings for Michael. No doubt in my mind. This movie is gay to the max. I already talked about the reasoning behind David changing Michael in relation to Max. I think he brought him into the cave with the intention of having Michael be Star’s first kill, but I think David and the boys genuinely enjoyed hanging out with/messing with Michael and on a whim David changed his mind and decided to turn him. But if we’re being real I think David was repressing a mad crush he was forming on Michael at the same time.

That is the face of a conflicted bisexual man who’s suddenly realizing, “Oh no, he’s hot.” I don’t make the rules.

Seriously though, I think David genuinely had feeling for Michael. It’s not like David and the boys hang out with other guys on a regular basis aside from each other, and I see their relationship with each other in a more brotherly way rather than sexual, particularly when you look at their relationship from the prequel script (are you guys tried of me talking about the prequel script yet?). So for David, this would be the first time in probably 80ish years that he’s actually just hung out and had fun with another guy that wasn’t one of his brothers. He’s probably feeling a lot of repressed feelings coming to the surface and Michael’s a good time, so why not? Plus he’s a snack. So I agree with the movie on this part, I think David would have gone through with turning him for his own reasons (not because of Max).

But after his brothers were killed I don’t think David would have still been trying to recruit him. I think the movie is sincere in this line though.

I think movie!David is still trying to get Michael on his side, most likely because of Max (again, from my previous post, I really think the secret villain reveal hurt the characters in the movie more than it helped) because Max still wants Michael to join them because he wants Lucy.

I think if we’re being fair to the character though, no matter how heartless people might think David is, even when it comes to the other lost boys, (I’ve talked about that too) he’s not. This is an 80s horror movie, this is before the villains/monsters were allowed to be complex and have real feelings (fun fact: that tear David sheds in the movie after Marko dies and the Frogs/Sam flee the cave? It was actually because the glass contacts Kiefer had to wear. You could only keep those things in your eyes for like 5 minutes before they dried your eyes out really bad, hence the tear; but Schumacher liked that it fit the scene so he kept it in the movie. That’s the only reason we get even an inkling of emotion from them post-Marko death.) so we don’t get to see the complexity of his character as much as we’d like. I do think Kiefer, the absolute king he is, really did an amazing job of trying to throw in a lot of layers to the character.

So to wrap up my rant here, I personally think there are two answers to your question.

I think, in the movie, David is genuinely still trying to get Michael to join him. Whether it be for Max’s benefit or not I can’t say, but I think, for the sake of the movie, yeah, that’s what that scene was trying to do. I think movie!David is totally crushing on Michael and that’s why he turns him, but I don’t think that has anything to do with why he’s still trying to get him to join after the boys are dead. Pretty sure that ship sailed; it’s all business now.

But if this character was allowed to exist outside the sphere of a 90 minute movie? If he was allowed to deviate from furthering the agenda of the “secret villains” plot? No. No way in hell would David still be okay with Michael after what he’d done to his boys. He’d being flaying him alive.

Thank you so much for the question! It was such a good one! ❤️ Feel free to send me any more! I am always down to answer these kinds of questions. (I’m genuinely surprised anyone actually want me opinion on this stuff. It’s bonkers. You guys are amazing.)

-Rachel

#the lost boys #the lost boys 1987 #asks

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flipper-kisses · 4 years ago

Text

Higher Education

Rami x OC Veronica, Charlie Hunnam

Word Count: 1446

Tag list- none yet

Warnings: swearing, mentions of parental death, car accident, college.

Chapter 1 - Move In Day

The August sun was shining brightly when I pulled into the parking lot next to my brand new home- the dorms of Evansville University. My three hour drive had left my legs cramped and my stomach empty. I had zero desire to unload all of the stuff in my car, so I joined the line of students waiting to check and get their dorm room keys.

"Heads up!" I turned quickly toward the sound of shouting and saw a football hurtling towards my face. Instinctively I reached up and caught it, then looked around for the horrible quarterback. A tall guy with long blond hair jogged over to me, hand outstretched.

"Sorry about that," he said with a smile, and a hint of an accent I couldn't quite place. "Great catch." I handed the ball over. "I've got two football obsessed little brothers." The guy looked me up and down. I was wearing navy blue shorts and a gray Nirvana T-shirt with my white and navy Adidas sneakers. "I'm Charlie," he said and stuck out his hand. "Veronica," I shook it. "Your boys want the ball back, I think." I nodded toward the group of guys he'd been playing with on the sun drenched lawn. "Right. See you around then, Veronica." Charlie winked and jogged back to his friends. I watched for a second, one in particular catching my eye. Totally my type with dark, spiky hair, dressed in a black short sleeved shirt and gray shorts. I raised an eyebrow and turned back to the check in table.

"Hi!" A bubbly brunette greeted me. She wore a name tag that identified her as the Resident Assistant. "Name?" "Veronica Mason." "Oh, hi Veronica! I'm Lauren, your roommate!" She stood up and gave me a high five. "Here's your key and we are room 323 on the third floor. I'll be around after all this check in stuff dies down then we can grab dinner later?" "Sure, see you in a bit!" I pocketed my key and heaved a sigh, thinking about all the stuff in my car I needed to bring up. To the third freaking floor. No elevator in the building. I strode past the guys playing football, and all the freshmen with their parents unloading their things. I was transferring in as a junior, which made me very nervous. Everyone had already had two years to establish friendships with everyone on campus. I felt very new and very alone. I didn't have my parents with me, in fact, I didn't have any parents at all. They passed away in a car accident when I was 14 and I'd lived with my grandma ever since. My thoughts continued to race as I opened my trunk and took out one of my totes. I started lugging it across the quad, sweating in the midwestern heat. I dropped the heavy tote under a tree and sat on it, catching my breath. "Fuckin a," I muttered to myself. "This is going to be impossible." "Hey," a shadow blocked the sunlight and I looked up at the owner of the deepest voice I'd ever heard. "Do you need some help with that?" It was the cute guy playing football with...what was his name again? Chris? The one with the spiky hair and black shirt. Now with him so close up I could see his eyes were an interesting shade of greenish blue and they stood out against his tanned face. "Yes, please," I replied gratefully and stood up. He was only a few inches taller than me, and absolutely gorgeous. He hefted the tote into his arms. "Where am I taking this?" Mr. Handsome asked. "Third floor of that dorm, 323 is the room number." "Okay," he said and started walking towards the dorms. I expected him to drop the tote where we stood when he heard he had to go up three flights of stairs, but he didn't. I followed him, and we carried it up the stairs together. When we reached my room, I squeezed by him to unlock the door. "You can put the tote in front of that bed, I guess. Thank you so much for your help. I appreciate you!" I said with a smile. "That cant be all you have." "No, I have much more in my car. But this was the heaviest. I can handle it." "Let me help you. It will go much faster," Mr. Handsome kindly offered. "Well...okay. I feel bad though. You don't have to do this. Shouldn't you be moving your own things in?" "I'm a senior. I moved in yesterday. Plus, I threw the ball that almost nailed you in the face. So I figured I owed you one." I laughed. "You have a shitty arm!" "Good thing I'm a Fine Arts major," he replied dryly. I grinned and stuck my hand out. "I'm Veronica." "I'm Rami. I'm so sorry I almost knocked you out with my shitty arm." "No worries. I guess we should get the rest of my stuff?" "Let's do this," Rami replied and headed out to the stairs. — Several hours later, I was unpacked, settled in and sitting on my bed, laptop open and reviewing my class schedule. A soft knock on my door snapped me back to reality. I climbed off my raised bed and opened the door to find Rami standing against the wall. "Hey you," I said with a smile. "What's up?" "Just wanted to see how you were doing. You had a crap ton of stuff to move in." I laughed. "Yeah, I'm pretty much all settled. Want to come in?" I stepped aside to allow him in. "Looks good in here," Rami looked around. "You work fast. My room is still a shithole!" I had strung up twinkle lights on the wall high above my side of the room. Posters of my favorite bands crossed my wall and I set framed photos of me and my parents, me and my brothers and me and my grandma. Rami slowly walked around my side of the room, taking in everything with his intense eyes. "Is this your family?" He asked, gently touching one of my frames. "How come they weren't here to help you move in?" I wasn't one to share my sob story the first time I meet someone, but he had to ask. "Well, my brothers are still in high school. They're sophomores." "Twins?" "Yup. And my parents- they died when I was 14." I looked away. I was in the accident as well, I'd survived. They didn't. As much as I knew it wasn't my fault, I lived with guilt every day. Rami touched my elbow. "I'm so sorry for prying. I didn't know." "It's ok. I just don't talk about it much." "I have a twin brother, and an older sister. Are these guys complete hell-raisers like my brother and I were?" Rami swiftly changed the subject. I smiled, thinking of those two idiots at home, missing them and their incessant teasing. I also did not miss the fact that there were two guys out there that looked like Rami. It seemed a bit unfair to the rest of the men in the world. "They like to switch on people for sure, but they're actually really good guys. My grandma did an incredible job with us." "This her?" He pointed at my favorite picture I had of her. It was from the early 1940s and she was about 19 years old. She had on an adorable knee length dress, cinched at the waist in the style of those days and sassy heels. I nodded, already missing her terribly. But she was the one who understood my need to leave and be on my own. She'd encouraged me to come to a school 3 hours away, because she knew how desperate I was so start my own life. "She's beautiful. You look just like her." I blushed at the compliment and Rami looked at me with a lopsided shy smile. My stomach decided that was the opportune time to let everyone know it was dinner time. Rami laughed and I covered my stomach. "I was going to ask if you wanted to get dinner with me and my roommate tonight, but If you're not hungry," he teased. "I was supposed to eat with my roommate, but she got called into an RA meeting. I was going to head down there alone," I shrugged. "There's no reason for you to be alone on your first night here. Come with us. I promise no flying sports equipment will be involved."

#rami malek fan fiction #fan fiction #rami x oc #rami malek fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #just here for the fan fiction

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moonbelt · 5 years ago

Text

»the moon, the sun

↳ ex-best-friends to lovers au | college athletes au

pairing » jeon jungkook | reader

genre » big angst + fluff + sexual themes

word count » 11.770

» there’s not a single thing you like about jungkook. no. not his jokes or his thinly veiled overwatch obsession or his supreme swimmers body. absolutely nothing. there is, however, a multitude of things you hate. wait, sorry that was rude, vehemently despise is better.

» mutual pining that could've been resolved if either of them exercised some basic communication skills lol, mild coarse language, lots of angst, cocky jjk but also crack jjk??, gamer memes, poufy haired jjk, also supposed hate-love relationship.

YOU ARRIVE AT THE SWIM CENTER WITH A THROB in your knee and a resounding ache in your head. It felt like your brain was about to explode into a thousand gory pieces as you pushed open the wide frost-tinted glass double doors that led to the locker rooms.

Now that would have been a great start to a low-budget horror flick. You could just picture it, a lonesome girl? No… Woman? At twenty, you weren’t sure if you still qualified as a girl but the term woman felt too formal, too stifling, too mature to be attributed to you. But whatever, that was semantics you could spare for another day.

So, there you’d be; creeping into a university swim center at the ass-crack of dawn and then bam! Your brain impedes on itself. Maybe it’s because of some mutant phenomenal viral disease, maybe it’s repercussions from tempering with a portal to the paranormal realm that only exists in semi-open pool arenas. Whatever it was, it would have to be epic and a far cry from the truth. Which was, you were used to indescribable, continuous pain. It came with the territory of being an athlete. If you didn’t wake up in the morning with some part of your body feeling uncomfortably off then that just meant you didn’t try as hard the day before. Or at the very least, that’s what you told yourself to keep going.

Yawning, you punched in your locker code and began the mental and physical process of getting ready for the next three hours of practice before break. You usually where the first one in the building and the last one to leave if you didn’t have classes or work.

Swimming made you feel good, made you feel like there was something special about yourself. It didn’t help that the more you practiced, the more you were able to outpace everyone else. Practice birthed results and your stubbornness, wait no, competitiveness was off the charts. So, of course, you wanted to dominate every single athlete in your division.

Still though, waking up at four in the morning had to be the singular dumbest thought you’d ever conceived.

Once you were suited up, you padded back into the arena that held the huge industrial sized swim pool. The overpowering smell of chlorine and humid air made you feel more at home than the dormitory you’d just left less than thirty minutes ago. You honestly might’ve started crying right then and there at the sight of the crystal clear water and the humongous life-sized painting of an unknown swimmer in the midst of a beautiful breaststroke at the center of it all.

Today was after all the first day of the semester. Your collegiate swimming career was finally back on. Your lips twinged at the sight of the polished, tiled floor and how it felt cool under the soles of your feet.

You’d gone back home for winter break and although you’d kept up with the training regime your coach had persistently emailed out, there was just something fundamentally different about being back on your own turf. In fact, you were fairly sure a few tears slipped past your barriers and hooked at the corners of your eyes at the thought. Only to be blasted into near oblivion by the sound of a phone camera going snap snap.

You whipped your head to the direction of the camera like a person possessed. “What the fuck?”

“Oh, My Zelda. This is glorious.” The goddamn stalker, wait he wasn’t a stalker if he was a member of the swim team. Right, the goddamn fiend had the guts and audacity to say with an open-mouthed grin marring his face. “You’re actually crying. There are literally tears in your eyes. I can see ‘em.”

“Screw off, Jeon.”

Him. The only other person dumb enough to be at the swimming center at five am. A full hour before the scheduled practice time. God, how long had he been watching you? And to think he even had time to whip out his phone and document this moment. You were never gonna live it down, that was for sure. You? Crying? Over – you took a grand look around your surroundings – water?

“It was only three weeks, you know. You wouldn’t die if you didn’t swim for a month or two.” He still found the whole scenario funny, if the laughter in his voice was any indication.

“Coming from someone that I doubt showers even once every three days? Yeah, I’ll pass on that lecture.”

“Ooh, a solid burn from the Ice Queen,” he clutched a hand to his chest like he’d been shot with a bazooka or something. Dramatic. “That one hurts my ego immensely.”

You snorted. It was debatable if anything could seriously damage Jeon Jungkook’s ego. That shit was built with solid uranium. No matter how you tried to smash it. He was his own number one supporter and he’d built himself up in his head that he was the greatest at whatever he laid his hands on. At that moment, however, you wanted to snatch the iPhone out of those deft hands of his and dig a well through his head with it. Couldn’t he go be great somewhere else?

Instead of replying and subsequently dragging out this conversation longer than necessary, you busied yourself with adjusting your swim cap and bringing your goggles to rest on the bridge of your nose.

It didn’t matter that Jungkook was here. It didn’t bother you one bit. It’s not like it was abnormal. You’d known him longer than you’d known anybody so of course you were used to his presence. Although you didn’t particularly like the fact that you’d known him almost your whole life. Or the fact that your body prickled with awareness every time he stepped into the nearest vicinity. You couldn’t control that. What you could control though, was how you felt about it.

And right now, you hated him. Wait, no hate was too strong a word, perhaps vehemently despise was more fitting.

You make your way to lane five, take a deep breath to calm your nerves and then dunk yourself into the ice cold water. Better to get it over with than squirm around the edges with him around. For Zelda’s sake, he has his phone camera on standby!

Yeah okay, you didn’t hate Jeon Jungkook; the son of a family friend that lived on the other side of the cul de sac. Instead, you vehemently despised the boy that was a walking, talking human critic. You bite your lip ferociously in a bid to punish the thought of Jungkook out of your mind. After a second or maybe three, you push into the water.

“Your shoulders look tense from up here... you’re so not gonna perform well if you don’t stretch that baby out.”

That’s the first thing you hear other than the rushing of water leaving your ears as your face breaks out against the surface of the pool. You jerk your goggles off your eyes, look up and scowl at him. Mr. I-Should-Basically-Be-A-Coach-With-All-These-Pointers-I-Give.

“I am not tense.”

“Yeah, no. You don’t have to lie about that. I could legit see your muscles almost cramping up down there.”

“Are you really going to stand up there and pretend we have some kind of mentor-mentee relationship going on? Seriously? It’s five in the morning, Jeon.”

You could clearly see the wheels in his head turning and then zeroing in on the one word you shouldn’t have said. Relationship. Gah, you need a chastity belt for your lips. His eyes basically sparkle with rays of mischief and a dash of mastered superiority. “Well, I am seven months older, so when you think about it that way it’s only natural that I take you under my wing and —”

“I swear to you, I will physically break your knee caps —”

“Wait,” he looks genuinely confused, perfect lips pouting. “What do you mean by physically? Is there any other way to break a knee?”

Ugh! You stare at him and he stares right back, cocking his head to the side like he can do this all day. You want to scream, hell maybe even shapeshift into a fucking banshee and scream the roof off this building.

And then his mouth curves into a roguish smirk. The type he reveals when he manages to squeak by a better time than you or like that one time (okay maybe five?) that he got randomly stopped by some modeling agency recruiter when your parents had forced the two of you to carpool to swim meets back when you were a tad younger and he was the only one with a car. The smirk that just screams ‘I’m getting under your skin, aren’t I? And dude, it feels fan-fucking-tastic.’

“Get a life, Jeon. Or better yet, get in the water. It’s only been three weeks, no way you suck even worse than usual after that. I mean, by fuck, it hasn’t even been a month!” You twist his words back at him and then feel proud about it. So what, you are competitive and you hold grudges. There could be worse things.

His smirk deepened and okay, you won’t lie to yourself. He is attractive. Critically so. It would be hard not to notice that. It’s a continual and conscious effort to even attempt to un-notice it. But still, moments like these when the fluorescent lights beamed on his face at just the right angle and the shadows cut across his features and illuminated his golden skin to the heavens, boosting his overall aura like he was some sort of reincarnated god of beauty. Or worse, a Final Boss that you had to most certainly defeat. It became increasingly hard not to notice how much he affected you and your breathing.

Yeah, it’s in these moments that your better judgement faults and for a split second you are transported to that one November night in the middle of eleventh grade when fuck no! Absolutely not! You refuse to walk that horrendous trip down memory lane and relive one of the most humiliating, and this is coming from a girl that threw up because of nerves in front of judges at a talent show, experiences of your life. This was not the time.

“Your shoulders are still stiff as a board. Tell me, child, have you gotten laid recently?”

You let out the most frustrated sound of agony you could muster. You’re going to murder him. Forget you being the star in some crazy horror film, you were going to be the director. And you were gonna serve up a mean case of Deck Jungkook’s Ass With Supernatural Intervention as the main course. Maybe you’d win an Oscar for it. Heck, maybe you’d get a home run and even win Best Picture.

He chuckles like he’s cracked the greatest joke since Netflix Original Films. You’re too busy orchestrating a slugfest in your head to really pay attention. “I’ll take that as a negative.”

You barely manage to spit out a dignified response. “One of these days I’m going to seriously maim you.”

“Tsk tsk, you and your threatening bodily harm tendencies. I wonder if that’s like a kink thing?” He asks as he taps his chin with his forefinger and squats down to a level that is closer to you. His dark brown hair that looks almost a shade of black sways like a river to his beat. This is much better, it hurt your neck staring up at him like he was some guardian deity.

But the action happens to highlight the ridiculous tightening of his abs. The abs you’ve painstakingly not ogled at because they are sculpted beauties. Hell, you’ve yet to meet a swimmer's body that isn’t the epitome of fitness but Jungkook’s is different. He is carved. Probably why you don’t like looking at it, stare too much and he might notice and of course, you wouldn’t want that happening.

“Jeon?”

“Hmm?” He sounds so innocent. The liar.

“Shut up before I drown you. I don’t care how long you can hold your breath. I will send you down to hell personally.”

He wiggled his eyebrows like the concept of hell was all he’d ever wanted to discuss in life. “Does that mean you’d be coming with? Fascinating. Let’s make a road trip out of it. Maybe you’ll even find some demons down to fuck all that tension out of your body. You know, DDTF. Get your exophilia on, if that’s your thing.”

Exo-what?

Beat. He’s beaten you at your own game. How the heck are you supposed to reply something snarky when all he ever does is blow the thing to epic proportions and have you running in circles. This is why the best strategy was just to simply ignore him.

You shoot him one last look that you hope is as menacing as it ought to be. You yank your goggles from resting on your forehead and dunk them in the water to get the fog out. Placing it back gingerly across your eyes, you let take in a soothing breath.

“I am serene. I am calm. There is nothing around me in existence that bothers me. I am the pinnacle of collected.” You refrain from adding tense-free.

There’s no way you’re tense after running the three and a half miles between your dorm and the swim center. You repeat the words aloud twice before you actually believe them. And then you tear back into the water. You still have roughly thirty minutes before the rest of the team comes in for practice. You’ll be damned spending all your time talking to the fool with shaggy hair and a crooked smile that made you want to burn something.

The only sound other than the whoosh in your ears and the rapid pumping of your heart as you exert yourself is the uncanny, blistering laughter of Jeon Jungkook. At least someone was enjoying your torment.

You swore at that moment that you were going to deck him someday. Even if it was the last thing you ever did. Maybe not even physically, gah, but you were going to get a time so fast, so unbelievably better that Jungkook would be dumbstruck in awe and lagging to catch up. You grin at the thought.

By the time practice comes to an end, your knee has migrated from a troublesome ache to a colossal titan. Dragging your body out of the water proves to be much a greater task that you previously took for granted. You try and fail to hold back your groans as you attempt to not limp back to the locker rooms and take a shower. Also, you need a painkiller stat.

The coach is too busy being circled by the hyena pack that is freshmen to really pay any attention to you. However, you know better than to think you’ve slipped past his radar. He’s definitely going to catch you sometime later to rim your ass for going too hard the first day of the semester. You guess that makes him a great coach in the grand scheme of things but you’d rather he let you be.

“Your knee acting up again?” Your lane buddy and a veteran senior in the program, Seokjin asks as he saddles up next to you and rips the navy blue swim cap off his head. You fear a little bit for his hair. “I thought doc cleared it?”

You sigh, not really wanting to remember last year when the university-affiliated doctor told you that you needed to take three months off swimming to heal and you’d barely lasted two weeks without going insane. You shiver at the horror of it all as you wrap your Legend of Zelda limited edition Link towel around your dripping body.

“Yeah, he did.” You send him a smile that comes off like a wince and then you give up on trying to downplay the pain altogether. “Guess it’s just not doing so hot today.”

Seokjin nods solemnly like he understands. “Some days are worse than others. I get that.”

“It be like that. I’ll be fine.”

“Do you think you’d be set for March though? Coach’s probably going to start analyzing his final picks for the comp.”

Ugh, Goddess of the Sea take me now! The National Collegiate Swim Competition is an annual event held every March and even though you’d made the cut as a naïve freshman, a knee injury caused you to be sidelined in your second year. But now though, you have to get on the final lineup. An absolute must.

Your cold heart won’t take it to be on the stands watching your teammates accomplish something you dreamed of. Something you’d worked and sacrificed so much for. You won’t stand to watch Jungkook rub it in your face how he’d come in a mere 0.6 seconds away from the first position. And you definitely won’t stand to have another year put on hold when your dream is literally right in front of you.

You bite out a laugh that sounds foreign even to your own ears. God, your knee is killing you. “You know what they say about pain.”

Seokjin gives you a quizzical look. Like he, in fact, has no idea what you mean. And you’re about to launch into a tirade about exercise mottos when you feel a tall presence step up behind you. You don’t even have to turn around to know it’s him. Of course, it’s him. Who else would encroach in on your personal space without a second thought?

“She means she’s gonna push through her limping and her tense as fuck shoulders and pull a win out of her ass. Don’t you,” the way he says your name is so patronizing, so unbelievably condescending that you whip your head up to glare at him.

“That’s impossible. If anyone knows how to take care of their body and not push their limits to insanity it’s Y/N.” Seokjin appears appalled that Jungkook would even think of such a thing. But Jungkook knows you better than anyone, albeit hatefully.

“Mm-hm. You doubt how crazy obsessed she is with winning.”

“Says you,” you spit out but it lacks your usual snark.

In truth, maybe Jungkook was right about your shoulders not being as stretched out as they should’ve been. They feel sore and they almost gave out on you during a lap. You were basically running on guts and mental fortitude for the last four laps. But you’d rather swallow butcher knives than admit that aloud for his ears to hear.

Seokjin is oblivious to the simmering tension between the two of you. Instead, he turns to you with so much concern sweeping through his posture it makes you uncomfortable and yet happy at the same time. “Take care of yourself, Y/N. There’s no point in winning if your body crashes on you, yeah?”

You know he means well and it’s not like you like lying to your senior but you know he just won’t get where you’re coming from. “Yeah,” you stare down at the suddenly interesting aqua-tiled floor.

He pats your shoulder once before he turns down the other way to the male locker rooms leaving you and Jungkook alone. You’re about to go on your own merry way — agonizingly slow of course, when a hand latches to your upper arm and stops you.

You swear you shouldn’t feel anything but your skin almost scorches at the contact. Your brain is divided: a part of you wants him to never let go, while the other half can’t get away from him fast enough. You don’t breathe, heck you don’t even move.

“Winning isn’t everything.”

You don’t mean to — truly, you don’t — but a scoff slips out of your lips before you even register it. “Coming from the golden boy that basically has a clear shot at making the lineup? Yeah, I won’t drink to that anytime soon.”

Jungkook uses his free hand to run through his hair like a maniac. And you entertain the idea that perhaps you really do get under his skin as much as he does you. The thought elates you and dilutes the throbbing in your knee to a lesser degree. He’s your biggest tormentor and you can only dream to be the same thing for him. Equivalent exchange and all that jazz.

He clicks his tongue at you and somehow that infuriates you even more. “You know what? Do whatever you want. Ruin your body for all I care.” He lets go of your arm like it’d be painful to hold it any longer. He pulls at the towel he has around his shoulders so hard that even you feel the burn and then he drapes it over his head, effectively blocking you out.

A forgotten part of you wonders why he’s so concerned about your body anyway. It’s not like he should care at all.

The two of you aren’t friends. Once upon a time that wasn’t the case but you aren’t one to cry over spilled milk much less bemoan over it. But it still rubs you some kind of way that Jungkook thinks it’s normal to voice his concern to you. The two of you are not close like that. At least, not anymore.

You scowl to yourself as you weave your way back to the locker room. You’re not much of a talker but you wave back at a few of the girls that bother to look your way. And spend a good ten minutes talking to a freshman about how she needs to stop holding her breath for long periods because all that does is make you dizzy and liable to pass out. After all that, it’s no wonder that you’re the last one out of the showers.

Tugging your baby blue beanie tight across your forehead, you curse yourself for forgetting to pack your knee brace when you left your dorm this morning. But whatever, you’ll push through it. You always do.

What you’re not expecting is to see a lithe body resting on the bench right outside the swim center. And it strikes you as odd that you immediately know in your gut that it’s Jungkook. Even though you’re too chicken now to admit it, there was a time when you’d engraved his whole body into your mind like he was a science project you were desperately in need of completing. Although his body has since gained more muscle mass and reduced way more body fat, it’s still him. No matter how hard you try to burn him out of your memory, he never leaves. You fear your only remedy might be self-induced amnesia.

What you’re not expecting is for that body clad snugly in black sweatpants, a really oversized navy sweatshirt that has ‘I AM NOT GONNA BE MERCY’ branded in fine print across his chest, and a beanie that suspiciously matches the one on your own head, to turn up and catch your gaze like he knows you’ve been staring.

You blink once and then twice and then once more just to be sure. Weird. You have no idea why he’s waiting out here and you’re even more confused as to why he owns a beanie that looks way too much like yours to be a coincidence. You shift your gaze to the sidewalk, debating if it’s worth it to strike a conversation with him. All it will do is leave you irritated, so you decide to continue to your dorm instead. Screw him and whatever he’s out in this cold as shit weather for.

“What? You’re just gonna ignore me now?”

Huffing, you pretend he’s not matching his strides to your sluggish pace.

“This is cold, even for you.”

Maybe if you keep quiet he’ll think you’ve gone magically inept in the span of forty minutes?

“You know I thought I was doing a good thing by waiting for you.”

That gets you to break your mental battle. “I didn’t ask you to do that, Jeon.”

“I know that. But what if you slid across the pavement and went straight to the dimension of hell? I have to be there for that.” He sounds genuinely invested in the matter at hand.

“I can still walk perfectly fine, thank you very much.” You almost smack your head dead against the stoned ground when your foot snags a loose edge of the sidewalk. Fuck.

“Pfft.” He’s barely holding in his laughter but you don’t cower. Har-dee-har-har. You don’t need him breathing down your neck thinking he’s doing you a favor or anything.

You don’t need pity parties hosted by Jeon Jungkook. Not again. Not after that one night that you thought was perfect and monumental when in reality all it really was a blip in his radar. You’re nothing special, or at least Jungkook thought so. It’s been years since then but that’s the funny thing about pain. It doesn’t just die down because you refuse to think about it. It simmers, it boils, it festers. Pain is a living, breathing monster and simply because you don’t devote time to it doesn’t mean it’s not taking up space under your bed.

But you are not going to think about it. Because you are definitely over it. Yep. That was it. You are over your ex-best friend and you are happy... Bah, what-fucking-ever.

Maybe he realizes that you’re not in the mood for the snark he would normally throw your way because the walk back to your dorm is relatively quiet after that. This is the most civil the two of you have been in a long while. Most of times the both of you are too busy making jabs at each other. But you’d noticed that ever since your accident last year that busted your knee, he’s been different.

You’ve yet to decide if that difference is for good or bad but it doesn’t matter because you’re back at your dormitory which means you get to sleep the rest of the day before work. Yes, maybe there is a God.

“Look, take care of yourself, okay?”

You stop on the stone steps to take him in. His hands stuffed deep in his pockets, the January chill making the tip of his nose bright red but his eyes don’t hold the same mischievous fight as before. He’s determined. You know him well enough to know that.

“I’m not going to die climbing up some stupid stairs.”

He shakes his head. Guess he’s not up for jokes then. “I mean it,” he breathes your name out with so much seriousness it stuns you. “You can be cruel to me. You can be angry at me. But don’t take it out on your body. Just... don’t.”

What does he know about cruelty? He knows not jack shit about cruelty. Cruelty was a seventeen-year-old girl waxing poetic love to a boy that she thought hung the moon, the stars and the sun only for him to trample over it just because. Maybe it was the hormones, maybe it was the timing, maybe it was every fucking thing in between but that night had been a changing point. Horror movies weren’t half as scary as being rejected by your best friend since before you were five and not know why. Cruelty was not whatever this limbo you and Jungkook had. You’d experienced cruelty and that was far worse.

“You don’t get to tell me what to do. Not then and certainly not now.”

Pushing your body to its limits is something you have to do. Getting better at swimming is something you would die trying to attain. Not because you particularly love swimming all that much but rather because it’s the one thing, the only thing that you really do believe you can beat Jungkook in. The only thing you can compete with him and with hard work win. You have to win. You can’t stand being second place next to him. It makes you want to gag. It makes you revert back to that seventeen-year-old girl you thought you’d killed off in your origin story.

Pathetic, you think to yourself. But you won’t stop because you’ve already come so far.

You rush up the stairs and into the dorm like lightning. You’re so quick that you don’t even feel any twinge of pain ricocheting from your knee or anywhere else to be honest. You’re a running painkiller. You haul ass all the way to your room and it’s only when you’ve locked the door and released the longest sigh of your whole adult life that it hits you.

And here’s another thing about pain: it always comes rushing back.

If it’s even possible, over the next few weeks your knee becomes even worse of a problem. Waking up in the morning becomes more of a drag than usual, you can barely walk to your classes much less the swim center without your brace on and then perform a Mission Impossible skit so that the rest of the team doesn’t see the brace dangling in your locker. You’re seriously considering ripping the whole joint out. For Zelda’s sake, it has to hurt significantly less, right?

To make matters worse you’re basically lying out of your ass to Seokjin and the rest of the team that your knee is not bothering you one bit. You’re such a liar, someone needs to lock you up for it. But it’s already the end of February and you can already taste the end of it all. All you need to do is hold on by the skin of your teeth for the next couple of days and then you’ll be free. Sure, rationally you know you’re not swimming your best right now but that does nothing to deter you from what you’ve set your mind on.

“Hey, Y/N,” the voice of the Student Assistant, Namjoon stops you in your attempt to blend in with the other swim members exiting the building after a rather rough day. “You came in later than usual today. Something up?”

Namjoon is an amazing guy. Attentive but not too overbearing. A great listener but he doesn’t go overboard with trying to get you to confess your deep, darkest fears to him. But even with knowing all of this, you still don’t want to tell him a thing. You know he’ll understand, that’s not the problem. The problem is, he would seriously blow it out of proportion. All you want to do is head home, nap for a good hour or three and then head to your afternoon class and get back to crashing. Was that too much to ask?

“Yeah, I’m great. Just a little tired.”

He raises an eyebrow at you, flipping through the sheet on his clipboard. “Hmm, your times been dropping since last week. You sure everything’s fine?”

Fuck. You fumble thinking of an answer, your eyes skittering around the tiled floor till you look up and lock on Jungkook staring right back. He’s a few feet away near the front door discussing with one of the assistant coaches but for some reason, his big, brown eyes are glued to your frame. An inane section of your brain wants to beg him to come over and rescue you from lying so horribly to Namjoon. While another insane part of you wants to sneer at him and tell him to stop freaking looking at you when you’re at your worst.

“I... uh,” you stutter and return your attention back to the kind senior in front of you. “I’m fine. I promise.”

Namjoon cocks an eyebrow at you, disbelieving. “Is it your knee? We could get the team doctor — ”

Your eyes widen in alarm and you stumble away from him, your thoughts passing the point of loudness and encroaching into deafness. No way. There’s no way you’re going to let him bring up your injury and then take it up with the other coaches because you know — deep in your bones — that if he does that you won’t make the cut for the lineup talk less of being able to just attend practice. You’d be kept on the side like an invalid.

Hate.

You hate it. Your stupid knee, the stupid way you were running late to practice almost a full year ago and then proceeded to fall down a flight of stairs and dislocate your knee so bad that when the seasons shift from sunny to cloudy, your knee throbs like an ingrained weather alert.

You hate how much the pain makes you want to cry. You hate yourself for pushing yourself, even more, when you know you shouldn’t. You hate how everyone is so damn concerned about you like you somehow deserve it. You hate that you don’t deserve their kindness, not when every other athlete next to you is getting better and better by the second and you don’t want to be left behind.

“Bro, she’ll be fine.” You don’t realize your savior and yet tormentor has weaseled his way into the conversation until you you hear the soft timbre of his voice. He stands so close to you that you smell the sweet scent of vanilla from his clothes. “I mean, look at her. Her technique is still kicking ass, no one can touch her when it comes to form.”

Lips wobbling a little under the pressure of your teeth, you peer up at him. Your mind running a mile a minute trying to place what his endgame is. Why is he here? What does he think he’s doing?

Namjoon laughs, his features becoming even more stunning with the action and you glance away from Jungkook. There’s no way he bought that blatant form of flattery. “That is true. Y/N has the best technique in the program right now. Probably best in the state.”

Lies. You know there’s talk about some super senior at a neighboring powerhouse school being the best in your division. But your mind is clogged up with your loud thoughts that you don’t say anything to refute his claim.

“Anyways, let me know if you need anything, ‘Kay?” Namjoon demands your attention. “Take it easy and rest up this weekend.”

You nod profusely and Namjoon smiles at the action like your adorable. You frown at that. And then he’s gone and you’re stuck with Jungkook and the thoughts clamoring around in your head.

“I didn’t need you to save me. Or lie for me.”

“Sure,” he says but his eyes say something different. That maybe if you really didn’t want his help you shouldn’t have looked at him like a deer in headlights practically begging the floor to swallow you up. “And I wasn’t lying. You do have a better technique.”

You roll your shoulders, ignoring the praise. “Seriously. I was fine.”

“Fine my ass,” he mutters, pushing past your body and heading outside the door.

“I didn’t need your help and I don’t owe you —” The frigid air whips across your cheeks so hard that you have to stop and close your eyes for a beat. When you peel them back open you find Jungkook looking down at you without something akin to disappointment swimming in his eyes. “What?”

He stares at you for what seems like an eternity. You try not to break away from his gaze but your eyes skittle across his outfit. The beanie on his head that outrageously still looks similar to the one you have on, his grey padded jacket and a similar shade of sweatpants. And by the time your eyes reach back to his face, his focus has diverted to glaring needles at your knee.

“What?” You repeat, this time though you’re whispering like you might not like what he will say next.

“I don’t get it. You of all people know how horrible last year was. Why are you doing this to yourself?”

You suck in a deep breath, not wanting to relive your sophomore year. “Why do you care?”

“Why?” Jungkook practically stutters at the question, his already big doe eyes transforming into the size of craters. “Are you trying to prove something? To who? Me?”

“I don’t care about you, Jeon. And I don’t need to prove any single thing to you. You’re dead to me.”

“You think that by carrying this invisible burden and pushing yourself to the point of borderline insanity you’re going to get better? That you won’t burnout? That somehow you’re going to get back at me? After you’ve ruined your knee and not only ruined your chances at swimming competitively ever again but just in general? You think you’d finally feel like you’ve served me a hot plate of revenge?”

There’s no reason for him to be able to see right through you so easily. There’s no reason for him to know how stupid this whole thing is and how really the only one suffering is you. Always you. Only you. Alone.

Jungkook’s face twists into a vision of pain and you’re stunned into silence. It’s like you can tell how much your disregard for your own body is affecting him when it shouldn’t. He’s your self-proclaimed enemy that was once your friend. You shouldn’t feel like you’re hurting him more than yourself.

You don’t even feel the lone tear that slips past your walls and slides down your cheek until he moves closer and uses a smooth thumb to wipe it away. Dammit, you’re better than this.

“Not everything is about you, Jungkook.” But right now it is. For you, it is.

He nods his head once. The pain that was painted on his face morphing into something you can’t discern but his thumb doesn’t lift from your face. Instead, the rest of his fingers cradle the side of your face like they’re protecting you. You inflate at the action. After several seconds, they’re gone.

“I should go,” he states matter-of-factly.

Don’t, you want to say but the words live and die in your throat You know if you start you’d say too much. “Yeah.”

Even though you want him to make up some silly excuse as to why he has to walk you home. Like maybe you’d slip and knock yourself into the netherworld. He does nothing of that sort. He puffs out his cheeks; resembling a bunny, and then he sends you a wary smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.

For the first time in ages, you don’t like the sight of his retreating back. For the first time in a long time, you don’t even have the energy to pledge eternal damnation to Jeon Jungkook. All you want to do is ask him why. Why were you not enough? Why did he hand you back your heart when all you wanted was for him to keep it. And why did he suddenly do a one-eighty in college, resorting to snide comments and remarks that make you boil but also instill air into your lungs like you are finally breathing again? Why does it seem like he still cares?

You’re on a mission to drown out everything that has to do with Jeon Jungkook. You don’t like that he has created a rupture in your stratosphere. You don’t like that you’re realizing that you’ve been waging a war but not against Jungkook like you’d originally perceived. Now now that you think about it, when has he really been a rival? You’ve really only been fighting yourself.

The two of you aren’t even in the same category. You don’t even specialize in the same swimming techniques. And now that you’re seriously going through it, has he ever really been conceited about getting better times? All he ever did was point out things you were doing off and even though you hated it, it wasn’t like he was lying.

You’re one step away from your dorm when your phone buzzes with a flurry of text messages. It’s from the swim team group chat for juniors and seniors.

Taehyung: It’s the weekend mi amigos *dancing emoji*

Vivian: whatever you’re thinking... it’s gonna be a no! from me! also i thought u were sick?

Taehyung: aw come on i havent even said anything yet

Taehyung: not! sick! it was just the flu

Seokjin: flu is a sickness, no?

Vivian: im so tired dudes,, im not going out with y’all to get smashed

Nathan: im down

Taehyung: yes!!!!

Taehyung: guys i promise! you’ll love me for it. a friend of a friend is hosting a party on Greek row. Let’s GO!!

Vivian: it’s not like we’re the only friends you have. ask someone else dude

Before you even think about it, you’re typing a response.

You: I’ll come. We don’t have training tmr so...

Taehyung: OMFG

Nathan: i had no idea you were in the chat lol

Vivian: rude. if y/n’s going then maybe she’ll keep Tae’s head on straight

Seokjin: don’t know if JK’s down but I’ll drag him out if I have to.

You: don’t do that.

Taehyung: why? don’t you guys have that whole foreplay thing going on or?????

You: WHAT

Vivian: wait i might come after all

Seokjin: Tae, leave it alone.

Taehyung: okay but it’s not my fault they both barely look at anyone other than themselves during practice. i can’t be the only one that noticed them basically eye-fucking each other all day everyday

Nathan: i second that

Vivian: ... sorry, y/n. but i third that

Seokjin: GUYS. if she leaves the chat because y’all can’t keep your mouth shut istg,,

Nathan: wait is jungkook reading this?

God, how you want the whole universe to open up and swallow you whole. Your phone feels like a hot potato in your hands. You throw the wretched thing into the back of your jeans pocket and blink over and over again as you rush into your dorm and up the elevator.

It takes the rest of the day to calm your cheeks from splitting from humiliation or embarrassment, it’s a close tie. You don’t pay attention in class, you can barely nap without the words blinking at the back of your eyelids like neon target signs.

Foreplay? Foreplay?!

You almost spontaneously combust.

You hear the telltale sound of a key unlocking your dorm room door and you hightail out of the ensuite bathroom before you can even think.

“Foreplay?!” You all but scream at your roommate and fellow swim team member, Vivian.

At the very least she looks sheepish, smiling nervously as she pushes a piece of her coiled hair behind her ear. “I thought you knew. I mean, everyone talks about it.”

“What about me wanting to rip his ass from his hole screams foreplay to anyone?!”

She shrugs, her lilac sweater falling down one brown shoulder. “I don’t know, it’s kinda sexy.” She drops her backpack on the only sofa and turns back to you. “He’s the only one you really talk to in the team so, everyone just kinda assumed y’all were either a has-been or a to-be couple.”

Wheezing, you lock your arms defiantly across your chest. “I don’t like him.”

“Yeah, okay.” Vivian laughs, unconvinced for some reason.

“I’m not kidding. He’s annoying. Always breathing down my neck like he’s my personal trainer or something. Any time I do a thing it’s like he has to say something in response, you know. I don’t hate him but I don’t... I don’t like like him.”

“Do you think he’s attractive?”

“Everyone does.”

She smirks at you like she’s caught you dead in a trap. “And you?”

You bite your lip. It’s not worth the hassle to lie. “A little bit. A teeny-tiny bit.”

“What about him do you think is attractive? And don’t mention his thighs because we all know those are in a different league of their own.”

That gets a laugh out of you. Vivian’s mouth widens at the sound. You realize then that maybe, just maybe, you’ve been hoarding things in for too long. And you appreciate Vivian because she’s always been nice and has tolerated your one-worded answers and four am showers like a champ. You want to give her an award or something.

You lean against the wall and think about her question. “Well, in a way his nagging and pushing my buttons can be seen as being attentive? I mean, he notices things about me that I don’t. And I’ve been… thinking that maybe he’s not really all that bad like I conjured up in my head.” More than that, before everything turned to shit, you thought he was the kindest, funniest person in the galaxy.

“Well, I’m no team Jungkook,” she snickers at her own Twilight reference and your lips tilt up as well. “And I won’t pretend to know what’s gone on between you and him. But whatever it is, maybe y’all just need to, like, talk it out.”

“I—”

Vivian shushes you. “You know I’m right.” She sashays to her room door and then turns back to you. “We’re going to go to Taehyung’s friend of a friend’s frat party and you’re gonna get the liquid courage to talk to him. I think everyone on the team would appreciate the whole sexual tension going on between the two of you finally being exiled into the cosmos.”

Cosmos?

You’re not really sure what happens after that. You let Vivian convince you to trade your comfortable sweatpants for an A-line skirt, tights and a stylish sweater that you’d bought on a whim. At least if you’re going to really say screw all and go for this party, you refuse to be a shivering mess.

Even though Greek Row is truly not that far from your dorm, you let Vivian drive the two of you over. She talks about everything and anything and it feels like it’s been forever since you hung out with anyone that wasn’t during scheduled practice and workout sessions.

Hell, what have you been doing for the last four years? Being obsessed with results that apparently your arch-nemesis doesn’t even care about?

Vivian tells you about the dude she’s dating and how he’s on the university’s volleyball team. You’re more surprised than you should be. You can’t believe you’ve been roommates with her for almost two years and you barely know anything about her other than surface-level shit. Oh, Zelda, this is one big bitch of an awakening.

“I’m sorry,” you say sincerely as she puts the car in park aways from the actual fraternity building. The entire street is blocked up with cars so it was hard to find any space. “For being here and yet not really at the same time.”

Thankfully, Vivian doesn’t make you sweat. “S’cool. Everyone’s got their own shit.”

“I’ve been really shitty lately.”

“Hmm, well, we can get drunk off our asses and feel really shitty together?” You decide then and there that she is amazing and only the devil will be able to pry this budding friendship out of your cold hands.

You find out that Vivian is very skilled at mixing drinks. It takes barely half an hour for you to start feeling a buzz and by your third round of whatever she stirs for you, you’ve straight up arrived at the land of Drunkenville: population; one. You’re busy debating with her and her boyfriend about how sports anime is simply the best branch of cinema to have ever been created and the one sub-genre that truly speaks about the resilience of the human spirit when you feel a heavy arm wrap around your shoulders.

“Y/N,” the voice all but screams in your ear. You hazily look up to see Taehyung’s chiseled face smiling down at you. And even your intoxicated self can tell that he’s pregamed the fuck out of this night already. “I brought lil Jungkookie for you. At first, he was all blah blah not going but when I said you were going to be here. Boi jumped like a fish in water.”

Taehyung laughs and you laugh with him, not really sure if you get the joke but happy nonetheless that he’s happy.

“‘Sup Viv and Viv’s boyfriend,” he salutes them and weirdly enough, Vivian’s boyfriend doesn’t take offense. He salutes back.

Vivian rolls her eyes but then she clasps two strong hands across your shoulders, effectively washing away the tipsy gaze from your eyes for a moment. “Now, listen. You’re going to find Jungkook and let him know how you really feel. Use all this liquid courage and let him have it. And you shouldn’t care that we’re at a party because almost everyone is drunk anyway.

And if that goes to shit and you want out of this place, don’t you dare even think of walking home, okay? You look for me. Don’t think I haven’t seen you limping your way across the dorm like a crazy bitch. I didn’t say anything because I didn’t have the right. But so help me, if you so much as think of walking back I will ... I don’t know what I will do but you won’t like it! So go find Jungkook and do us all a favor and end this eternal foreplay.”

Foreplay... that damned word again. It overrides your brain system and makes you think of things you shouldn’t want. But you’re stupidly confident right now. Hell, your knee hasn’t really been bothering you since you woke up from your nap. The alcohol in your blood is dancing to its own beat and it’s lighting your system on fire.

If not now then when?

You have a gazillion and one questions to ask Jungkook. Questions you’ve kept silenced and bottled down in your heart for years. Questions that keep you up at night. And maybe its because the last month and a half has made you question everything about yourself and your ethic and your predicament, you know you have to do this now.

Fuck it. Who cares if you become the source of this boorish party’s entertainment like a walking cliché? It’s not like you’d remember anything that happens here and you only know a handful of people. Embarrassment? You don’t know her. Not today.

You find him in the basement with a cup of something near his booted feet and his gleaming eyes transfixed on the TV in front of him. His tongue poking a hole in cheek. There’s a small crowd of people around him and you take one glance at the screen and see that he’s playing Super Smash. Of course. He looks beautiful like this. Different than the last time you saw him and better because he doesn’t have that look of agony coloring his eyes.

You could probably spend a whole day just looking at him. Taking in the man that’s grown from the boy you once knew and called your own. His body is a work of art and ought to be chiseled and crafted like the sculptures of the Renaissance era. If you were any good a sculptor, you would’ve done just that. Instead, you commit him to memory. Because even though it is possible that neither of you likes each other anymore, you want to remember this.

He looks perfect like this. Happy. Not distressed and sad like when you’d confessed to him. When you had laid your heart bare before him and he didn’t even react. You wish you could say he had pried your heart out of your hands and ripped it to shreds. But that wasn’t the case. Your heart hadn’t shattered by his blatant rejection. It had melted.

You watch as his character, Link, of course, K.O’s his opponent and Player 2 Victory flashes on the television screen. He wins. Like always. You don’t feel mad like you usually do. Maybe you’ve finally accepted that there are just some things you can’t win no matter how steadfast and committed you are.

Jungkook looks up from his controller, pumping his fist in the air, his long, dark hair flopping around his face like a curtain. Your veins practically burst with electricity when his smiling eyes notice yours in the corner like you knew they would. The smile dims and you expect that. You’re not asking for a love to cure all epidemics or a lie to burn your body to ash. You just want to move on. To finally escape the purgatory you’ve put yourself in.

“We need to talk,” you try to say as loud as you can but the cheers and conversations of the people around you drown you out.

Somehow in someway, he hears you and nods his head. Maybe he’s a glutton for pain like you. He scoots out of the loveseat, standing to his full height and making pleasant excuses to his newly acquired friends that you don’t know. Maybe it’s the fake courage but you don’t take your gaze away from him. You’re going to do this. You have to — you suck in a huge breath — you must.

Once he steps into your bubble of personal space, the rest of the world fizzles out.

“This is a bundle of firsts, Ice Queen. You? At a party and instigating a conversation with me first? Damn, did you get a taste of hell without me videoing?”

“You always joke about everything,” you decide to bite the bullet. “I used to find that really cute.”

Alcohol o’ alcohol, why hath thou forsaken me? You almost look up to the heavens and question what possessed you to drink so much but then you rehear Vivian’s speech in your head and you find your resolve and strangle it.

Jungkook’s eyebrows fly up like he’s not quite prepared for this. “Wait, what are you... Are you drunk right —”

“I’m not good with words. And I’ve always sucked at speaking my mind and being thoughtful and generally being a good person. Like you,” you smile sadly when you remember the first time you ever made a friend; the boy in front of you that had offered you to come over sometime and play his GameCube with him when his older siblings were too busy to hang with him. “I’m passive at best when it comes to anything that’s not swimming. And even that, you got me into it. You were the reason I started it. You know this, I would’ve rather died than engage in anything that made me exert energy. But you made it fun until I genuinely loved it.”

“That’s not,” Jungkook shakes his head adamantly. “That’s—”

You shoot him a look. “Let me finish okay? I have this whole thing in my head and ... please, just let me say it.”

You hadn’t realized the curious looks the people around had been shooting your way until you see Jungkook scowl at any and every one before he intertwines your hands with his and pulls you out of the basement in a swift motion. You don’t mind the giddy feeling enveloping your chest at the sight of your fingers wrapped around each other. A part of you actually loves how cocooned it makes you feel. You want to bottle this feeling up and bathe in it.

He must be overfamiliar with the frat house because he leads you expertly into a room at the end of the hallway on the first floor. He shuts the door and then locks it. For a minute, he stares at your locked hands and you wonder if he feels the same pull you do. If he’s ever felt the same pull you do.

“When I handed you my heart and my everything, why didn’t you want it? Why did you act like I had committed a grievous crime against you and your glorious self?”

There. You’ve gone and said the thing. The biggest question that has plagued your mind for months and years. If your best friend didn’t even find value in you then really, was there any to begin with?

Jungkook lets out a heavy sigh that careens his shoulders down as if he’s carrying the weight of the world. A sigh so deep that it shakes his body from the vibrations visible through his black tee, and crashes into your soul. He closes his eyes for his barely a second but you wish he’d just spit it out. Pour acid on your wounds so you can feel the fire of a thousand suns and finally, fucking finally move on. Baptism by fire they call it but what you want is a goddamn exorcism.

“You thought I shat gold and that I hung the moon and that I was this perfect person when I’m not. I mean, have you listened to yourself? You think you’re a bad person because all you’ve ever done is compare me to you. But it was you and me. Not either or.

You think I really love swimming when you’re not the one egging me on? Pushing me to be better? You think I would’ve let you confess your magnificent love for me and then accept it when every sentence you said contrasted you from me. Pitted you against me? I’m competitive, you’re competitive but I didn’t think you needed competition when it came to that. You’d already won. And then I had this crazy stupid idea that maybe just being friends with you would work. I mean, love isn’t something you need to fight yourself bloody and dead for. Why would I accept this really amazing love from someone that was going to feel less than me and feel like shit for it?”

“So, what were you gonna do? Just wait till I up and decided that I was insecure and didn’t have a major inferiority complex I had no idea about?” Your sober thoughts vomit out of your mouth with impressive speed.

“I was still your friend,” Jungkook almost yells and out of his aggravation, his hands slip out of yours. The loss is staggering. He jabs his index finger into his chest. “I did everything I could do to still be your friend. But you wouldn’t talk to me. And I get that we were sixteen and there were so many ways we could’ve done better but you shut me out.”

“No, I…” You begin to say but the words die in your mouth.

Truth be told, you did shut him out. It wasn’t like you blocked him on every site. But when he tried to talk to you at school, you pretended he wasn’t there. When he stopped over at your place, you told your parents that you were sick and to keep him out. When he sent party invites on the gaming platforms the two of you shared a love for, you ignored them and turned off your console. But it wasn’t like you did all of this out of spite to begin with. It was just easier.

You were hurt. Seeing him brought on multiple feelings of shame, embarrassment, and pain all wrapped snugly like a demonic burrito. And he was your best friend, it wasn’t like you didn’t have other friends you could’ve asked for advice but the one person you wanted to talk to was the one person you couldn’t reach out to. So you didn’t think about it. Instead, you threw yourself headfirst into freezing ass water and worked your butt off with the one thing you had left.

And contrary to what Jungkook believes, he made you feel good about yourself. Like an anchor. You didn’t have to hide your nerdiness between a cold exterior so as to not get teased about it. With him, you were free. Like he was a sun that burned a path that enabled you to breathe easy. To be yourself so that you wouldn’t drown.

“You think I really go around joking with every bum on the swim team about Down To Fuck Demons for hire or that I walk every person with a rubbish knee home in fucking negative degree weather? Or that I worry about everyone that’s throwing their whole future away over a rivalry that doesn’t even exist? You think I’ve been playing the role of a pest around you because I hate you? —”

“Vehemently despise,” you choke on your words but your sense of seriousness causes Jungkook to burst into a staccato of quick muted laughter.

“Y/N,” he whispers your name like it’s a thing of beauty. And maybe it is. Right now you think so. “Firstly, I was dumb and I thought if I left things as they were maybe you’d realize how fucking awesome you were without me. But then all you ever did was practice and practice like you were training for an aquatics mafia or some shit. And then I realized that maybe you’re not the only one that sucks with words and when to say them. I should’ve told you that I did love you. Platonically. Romantically. And you made me feel great and not because you were less than but rather because being with you meant that I was my best self.”

You feel a cascade of water flooding down your cheeks like a waterfall but you don’t release a sound and you don’t really care about it because this moment feels sacred. Because you’re not crying out of pain or agony or longing. Rather it’s because you finally understand.

“You were like the sun and you were so blinding that I thought I would incinerate if I was still next to you like nothing happened.”

“Ha,” Jungkook scoffs, using a palm to run across his face. Then he squints his eyes at you like he’s seeing you anew for the first time. “If I’m the sun then you are —”

“The sun eater.” The words fly out of your mouth with ease. Quoting your fave anime characters was a thing the two of you had done relentlessly for days, heck, years.

Jungkook nods his head, elated that you remember like there was ever a time you’d forget My Hero Academia. “I’m not gonna apologize for not accepting your confession back then. I can’t. Not when I genuinely think neither of us knew what the fuck we were doing back then. Still don’t.”

“And I’m not going to say sorry for pulling away from you. I mean, I’m not a masochist.”

He lets out a throaty laugh that washes your insides clean. And you give a watery smile back, feeling soberer than you did a couple hours ago. You bet you look worse for wear but you don’t care because you’re done not pretending.

“Why did it take four years for me to...” your voice chokes and you almost break down right then and there. But your stubbornness is a thing of pride. “For us to finally talk about it. It would’ve made so much more sense if we had just talked and now I feel like I’ve wasted four years of my life being angry? Feeling discarded? But it’s not like that at all.”

Jungkook’s smooth yet experienced hands cradle the sides of your face and the overflowing tears pool in the flesh that connects his thumbs to your skin. “Friends fight all the time.”

You snort and he grins. “Most friends aren’t half as dumb as us.”

“You got that right. I think dumbness is attractive.” He says with an overflowing aura of achievement. “This just means we’ll just have to spend more time making up for it.” He dips his head down till his lips brush the tip of your ear. “And by the way, I think I’m done being your friend exclusively,” he says.

“Yeah?” You ask and for an inane reason, you smile even harder because the tears on your face feel like rain. And you’re still breathing easier, albeit a tad bit faster. But there’s no crash and burn after you’ve soared too close to the sun. Unlike before your heart feels like it’s glowing instead of charring.

“I think I want to take you out on a date.”

Your eyes widen with faux-horror. “Just one?”

“Oh my Zelda, can I at least finish my grand speech?” He rolls his eyes. “As I was saying, it won’t be one date but you know that kinda depends on if you’re still god at Fortnite. I mean, partying up is basically the same as marriage, you know?”

“Kook?”

“Yeah?”

“Your inner nerd is showing.”

Jungkook sputters loudly, the action making his hair swish across his forehead and his hands drop from your face. “Oh, forgive me. I thought you loved my nerdiness.”

“Love,” you correct him. “Present tense.”

His mouth practically breaks even with the floor with how wide he’s gaping. You haven’t sprouted a second head, have you?

You clear your throat, attempting to be blasé about the whole thing. “Well, if we’re really going to pursue this whole dating thing then I have to be honest, right? I think it’s quite sexy how knowledgeable you are about gaming and stuff even though we’re like hardcore athletes.”

“So I’m like an onion? Three dimensional? The more you get to know me, the more you love how I’m not like Other Guys trademark sign?”

You guffaw so hard you almost start crying all over again. “Oh my Zelda, we were having a moment. Why did you ruin our moment?”

“Think I can make up for it.” He looks at you with something akin to competition and licks his lips.

Your eyes falter at the action, zeroing in on them. Suddenly the distance between yours and his feels like a crime against humanity. It’s comical really, how the temperature of your body can fly from ice cold to a blazing inferno in less than minutes.

“Fuck,” you whisper.

“As you wish.”

Jungkook bends his lips to connect with yours in a swift motion. You’re surprised but a part of you must have anticipated it because you are pushing deeper into him as quickly as humanly possible. His arms snake across your waist, his hands landing squarely on your ass and his groan eliciting a magnitude of butterflies in the pit of your stomach as his tongue danced an infinite tango with yours. Smoothly, he backs you up until you feel your head tap a wall for support.

Holy crap shit. Your mind is a mess. No wait, your mouth is a mess. A warped sense of dizziness floods through your body and it has nothing to do with the alcohol you consumed earlier and everything to do with the sensuous teeth nipping at your bottom lip while his hands deftly squeeze your ass. Fuck, you can’t breathe. You don’t want to breathe. You cling unto his shoulders for stability and revel at how corded they feel under your touch.

He tears his lips away from yours, breathless, resting his forehead against yours. “God, you’re gonna be the death of me.”

“You can’t die until we get to the part where we role-play as demon and a naive spell caster.” You’re out of breath as well because that kiss was something else. Divine, maybe.

“I get to be the demon though, right?”

You grin at that. “Of course. I’m not a heathen.”

This time you kissed him, pushing all thoughts of future escapades further away from your mind and focusing on the beautiful man in front of you. Reaching up, you dig your hands through Jungkook’s abundant hair and moan. You understand then what it must have been like for Icarus to fly off to the sun. It must have scorched his skin to death within seconds, and yet at the same time, it must have been oh so slow. And you doubt he despaired because in the end he was heading home and he was finally not alone. You understand so well because the more the fire in your veins expands, the more you come close to burning up entirely. And you love it. You’re losing all control and you don’t care because he’s losing his alongside you.

Everything turns into a mess of frenzied motions. Him reluctantly removing a hand from your ass to reach up and use his fingers to clasp around your throat and position it just right enough for him to latch his lips there and suck. hard. When he pulls away from you to admire his handiwork, the lopsided grin on his face almost sends you into another need to kiss him.

“I’m not gonna fuck you at a frat party when only Zelda knows how many losers have cummed on a singular bedsheet,” he announces without remorse.

“Fair enough.”

“But I am going to do very wicked things to you that’ll loosen up those shoulders to the point of being supple. And after that, you’re gonna promise me that we’ll go get your knee checked out later.”

A few hours you would’ve kicked and screamed at the idea of anything derailing your plan of getting on the lineup for the competition. You thought that admitting you need help meant that you were quitting. Punishing yourself for something so irrevocably at out of your control. Now though, you nod your head drowsily. You hate the doctors but you hate self-destructing even more. Especially now when you have someone that hurts when you hurt.

He’s unraveling you.

“I’ll go.”

His eyebrows shoot up to his hairline, not believing how easily you’ve conceded to him. “Where has my sweet, stubborn Ice Queen gone? Bring her back to me, please. All this ecstasy must have gone to her head.”

God, whoever said you still won’t want to deck Jungkook even after experiencing something so explosive. But his grin threatens to split your heart two. Like he’s happy to just be with you, adoring you, joking with you. Oh, how your body is singing with praises.

“Yours?” You cock an eyebrow at him.

Jungkook beams. He’s the sun and you’re the moon. Now that you’ve tasted this, you’re never going to let go. You are simply submerged.

“Haven’t you realized? You’re my girl.”

a/n: i know very much that i took a lot of liberty when writing about collegiate swimming/sports in generral (i took an advanced swim class at my uni last semester so thats where all my info comes from) i tweaked it a lil bit to fit my purposes but it was fun to try to write about it hehe.

i hope you all loved this fic as much as i loved writing it!!!!

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