#but he really only knows three poems. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ckret2 · 6 months ago

Text

Chapter 51 of human Bill Cipher is once more the Mystery Shack's prisoner: Dipper and Mabel try to figure out what the Axolotl's poem means; Dipper gets the hang of astral projection; and... whatever's going on up there happens.

####

Ford and Dipper came back into the shack through the gift shop; Ford didn't want to risk crossing paths with Bill. While Dipper went into the house, Ford went down—returning to the safety of his subterranean study.

Once Ford had put on the old black trench coat he'd worn during his multiversal travels and gotten comfortable at his desk, he pulled out Journal 5 to document the events of the last few days. In a cheap ballpoint pen, he wrote, I've lost my #1 Grunkle pen (and favorite coat) to the waters of Lake Gravity Falls. And then, deciding this didn't adequately express his feelings, he drew a small frown. That coat had served him well for decades, and he'd really liked that pen. It did write excellently, and it had reminded him of his gniece and gnephew.

He spent three pages documenting the eclipse—what happened, what readings he'd taken, what he and Dipper observed—and then another four pages talking about Bill. What he'd told them, why Ford had dismissed it; his claims about a trans-dimensional axolotl distorting gravity with its migration; the statue, the rescue, the breakdown.

The act of writing always helped Ford clarify his thoughts and untangle mysteries; it wasn't until he was writing that he realized the limbs Bill had said he couldn't feel were the ones that had broken off the statue.

He listed the rules of the chess variants he could remember Bill inventing. He drew Bill huddled in front of the board, grim, tear-streaked, exhausted; and then scratched out his face, embarrassed at the thought of immortalizing such a raw moment for his private viewing.

He wrote, There's still a slim possibility that the entire "eclipse," start to finish, was Bill's masterfully-orchestrated scheme to make us pity and trust him; but it's unlikely. Although Bill is fiendish enough, he isn't currently powerful enough, and his lies certainly aren't elaborate enough. If he could pull off such a byzantine ruse, then he could just as easily escape—and if he can escape, why hasn't he? Bill may be insane, but he's never been THAT irrational.

And so, even as twisted as Bill's idea of "friendship" is... for the very first time, I'm convinced that he was telling the truth all along when he said he wants me as his friend. It's not an act. He risked his life to save someone who's an active threat to him.

And at the end of it all—though I'm grateful to be alive in spite of my own stubbornness—do I like him any better for it?

Ford leaned back and shut his eyes, sifting through the inner tumult of anger and old hurt that defined most of his memories of Bill, looking to see if anything had changed.

There was a sore, tender spot in his emotions, a place beginning to rot with remorse; when he prodded at those emotions, he found that it was shame over his own harsh conduct of the last couple of days. But he was only ashamed of how cruelly he'd acted; he wasn't ashamed that Bill was the one he'd done it to.

Outside of that tender spot—regret over his own behavior—nothing else had changed.

No. I still hate him. I'm grateful to be alive, but I hate him. He hasn't undone anything he did to my family and me, and he never will. Forgiveness can't be purchased with favors.

I'm only relieved at the certainty of it. Bill has committed an act that can't possibly be a lie. I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he's shown me the truth; and the truth is he'd rather see me alive than dead. Whatever other lies he may tell, I can hold on to that fact.

Bill's miserable eyes peered out at Ford between the scribbles he'd drawn across his face. It was truly a pity that Ford had to hate him. Pity that Bill hadn't been somebody better. He could have been better.

Ford couldn't find it in himself to be embarrassed that he'd filled four pages talking about the monster he'd already wasted so many more on. Bill had been right about him: You might hate me to my face, but behind my back you're as obsessed with me as ever. The only thing Bill didn't understand was that hatred and obsession weren't mutually incompatible.

####

"Hey, Dipper," Mabel said, unfolding the living room sofa bed.

"Hey, Mabel," Dipper said, passing through living room on his way to the stairs. He climbed up to the attic.

He came back down from the attic. "Mabel. Why's Bill asleep in your bed."

"He really needed a nap," Mabel said.

"Okay but why on your bed?"

Mabel pouted. "Dipper, do you realize he's never slept on a real bed? Ever?"

Dipper tried to imagine sleeping on a couple couch cushions on the floor every night. "Yeah, okay, that does kinda suck." Even if it was Bill's own fault he wouldn't sleep in the living room.

By unspoken mutual agreement, having a Bill in the bedroom followed the same law as finding a centipede in the bathroom. The law was "that's the centipede's bathroom now." So once the folding bed was set up, they sat on it to serve as their hang-out spot for the evening and caught each other up on what they'd done the last couple of days.

After Dipper & Co. had left, Grenda had come over to take advantage of the low gravity to retrieve the kite that had been stuck in a tree near the Mystery Shack since last summer (it was, tragically, too tattered to salvage), and then they'd gone over to Candy's house to photograph each other performing feats of impossible strength. (Mabel would be sending some pictures to their parents to confuse them, and adding the rest to her summer scrapbook.) She'd spent the next day breaking the trampoline world record until Soos came outside and said gravity was probably too low for it to be safe to be up in the air anymore, if Bill's warnings about being off the ground when gravity hit zero were true; at which point Mabel had hung around inside air-swimming until she suddenly slammed against the ceiling, and then the ground. She was fine. She just had a couple of bruises. She showed Dipper her bruises.

In return, Dipper told Mabel about how their quest had gone: the checks for micro-rips, Bill's increasingly frantic warnings, the lake—

("You got to see a bajillion magical axolotls and I didn't?!")

—the cliff, the Axolotl, Dipper's near-death experience, and what he now knew about his out-of-body dreams.

"Seriously?" Mabel hissed, eyes bugging out. "And he had us looking up lucid dreaming books! What a jerk!"

"I know! He could have just ignored the whole thing, we didn't even think it was anything but dreams."

"And I'd thought he was being so helpful, too! Like he was really trying to make up for giving you 'nightmares'!" Mabel laughed in disbelief and flopped down on the flimsy mattress. "All that because he just didn't want us to know how it was really his fault? Biiill, ugh."

His fault. Dipper hesitated, wondering whether he should tell Mabel what Bill had said about Mabel's Fault; then decided against it. Bill had probably been telling the truth when he'd said he only wanted all the credit for Weirdmageddon.

But—Dipper did tell her about Bill saving their lives. He would have felt like a liar if he hadn't—like he was trying to trick his sister into thinking Bill was worse than he already was. He hoped Ford wouldn't mind; but how could he not tell Mabel?

"He could have just let you die and didn't?" Mabel turned that over in her head, processing this sudden shift in Bill's behavior. "Wow. I'm impressed."

He also told her about their previous encounter with the Axolotl. Considering the other lies Bill had told recently, anything he said about them meeting the Axolotl was dubious at best; but Dipper could remember the Axolotl, so maybe some of it was true, even if Bill had twisted as much as he could. ("The Axolotl said hi, by the way." "Aww. Tell him hi back!" "Yeah, I... don't know how to do that.")

Dipper laid out his journal between them on the folding bed, and Mabel read over the couplet a few times. "'Sixty degrees that come in threes, watches from within birch trees'..."

"It's got to be talking about Bill," Dipper said. "Equilateral triangles have three sixty-degree angles. I just don't know why the Axolotl wanted to talk to us about him."

Mabel frowned at the lines. "I think... I remember meeting him too," she said.

"You do?"

"Kinda. Like in a dream," she said. "We were in some kind of futury space race car. And he had a really comfortable beanbag chair."

"Yes! I remembered the beanbag chair, too!" And he hadn't mentioned it in his journal. "This is great! Talking about it must... must cause us to remember, somehow. Maybe since the universe where we met the Axolotl doesn't exist anymore, our memories of it are... detached or something? Psychically floating around between dimensions until we try to remember them?" He took in Mabel's skeptical frown and shrugged. "I don't know!"

She scrunched up her face. "Ugh. Last summer's first-grader time travel was complicated enough. This is like college-level time travel. Maybe we can ask Bill how it works?"

She said it so easily, like she thought it was actually a good idea. Right after she'd heard about the lucid dreaming thing, too. "I don't think he'd help." Dipper lowered his voice. "He really didn't want Grunkle Ford and me to find out about the Axolotl—and he kept telling me not to think about what the Axolotl told me. He's trying to cover something up."

"Oo-oo-ooh." Voice dropped to a whisper, Mabel said, "Do you think it's some kind of Space Axolotl conspiracy?"

"It could be," Dipper said. "All I know is he was trying to tell us something important about Bill. Some kind of prophecy, or... maybe a warning...?"

He trailed off. Mabel had stopped listening to Dipper. She was rereading the couplet Dipper had written, moving her lips like she was murmuring under her breath—but whatever she was saying, it was much longer than the couplet Dipper had written down. Distractedly, she said, "Do you have a pen?"

"Yeah, here." Dipper quickly handed over the pen he kept in his vest.

Mabel clicked it, went to the bottom of the page, and wrote: A different form, a different time.

Dipper sucked in a sharp breath as the words snapped into place in his mind. "That's it! That was the last line! What else do you remember?"

"That's it," Mabel said. "It was free form poetry with a bunch of rhyme pairs."

"I don't think free form poetry rhymes."

"Pbbbt." Mabel blew a raspberry and shoved Dipper's face. "Whatever! You know what I mean." She pointed at the last line. "Do you think the poem's about why Bill's here? He time traveled to the Mystery Shack in a new body..."

"Exactly! Bill must be back here for a reason. He's got all those powers—or, used to, anyway—and he knows more about the multiverse than anybody on Earth... Maybe there's some kind of big threat coming, and Bill's the only one who can stop it, and—and the Axolotl wanted us to know...?"

"I like the sound of that," Mabel said. "That'd basically make him a hero, right?"

Dipper grimaced. "I mean. I guess? But we're talking about Bill. If he does help us stop a threat, it'd be like if a serial killer picked up a hitchhiker and killed him, and then it turned out the hitchhiker was an even worse serial killer."

"That still sounds kinda heroic to me."

"Pfff, okay." He looked at his journal. "But... what is he here to do?"

Mabel considered what they'd already written. "Maybe we can use him to spy on our enemies through birch trees!"

"Thaaat's probably not it."

"No, I think I'm on to something. I can feel it."

There was a lot of empty space between his couplet and Mabel's line. "There's more we're missing, though. Maybe the rest of the poem describes the threat? Or what we need to get Bill to do?"

"I can't remember anything else, though."

"Me neither."

They stared at the page together, waiting for something to come to their blank minds. Mabel looked at the fish tank. "Hey, Primrose! Do you know anything?"

The pet axolotl in the tank ignored her serenely.

Dipper said, "'Primrose'?"

"Yeah, last summer Grunkle Stan said her name is Freakface, but I thought she deserved a cuter name. She's primrose color!"

"Ford says he originally named him Nikola."

Mabel gasped. "Nikki..."

Dipper twisted around to look at the axolotl. "Do you know anything? Do you... get messages from the Axolotl's heralds, or anything...?"

Nikola slowly opened his mouth, and slowly closed it.

Mabel said, "Hey. The Axolotl's one of those dimension-crossy time-travely guys, right? He probably wouldn't have given us a prophecy in the wrong timeline and then made us forget it unless he knew we'd remember it in time in the rightdimension!"

"I guess," Dipper said uncertainly.

"So we don't need to worry about it! We'll remember it when we need to."

"Unless this timeline's going to branch, and the only one where we survive is the one where we put all our effort into trying to remembering—"

"Shhh!" Mabel put a finger over Dipper's mouth. "Uh-uh. No college time travel. We'll be fine!"

Dipper pushed her over. "Okay, but we should at least try a little to remember what the Axolotl told us."

"What if we work on it separately?" Mabel propped herself up on an elbow. "Instead of just sitting around thinking about it. And whenever we remember a line, we can tell each other and see if it makes anything click."

"That might be faster," Dipper said, stroking his chin. "We're already remembering different lines."

"Yeah! And that lucid dreaming book said something about focusing on a problem before you sleep so you can figure it out in your dreams! We can just work on it in our sleep and we'll remember it all in no time!"

Dipper laughed. "What? No way, I think lucid dreaming is just one of those made up pop psychology things. I didn't get it to work at all." Either it didn't work or Bill had deliberately recommended a terrible book.

"I did! I can remember like... eighty percent more dreams. And I can tell when I'm dreaming a lot more often!"

"Huh." Or, maybe Dipper just wasn't doing it right. "Maybe I need to start over from step one. Do you know where the book we were using went?"

"Over here!" Mabel had set a couple library books on the end table next to the sofa bed; she pulled out the second one, which had a glittery pink bookmark with a cat on it stuck two-thirds of the way through. "Just don't lose my bookmark."

"Thanks." He'd reread the first step before bed. "We should probably be getting ready for bed anyway, huh?"

"Seriously?! It's barely bedtime!" And when the adults weren't watching, official bedtime was an hour and a half before Actual Bedtime.

"I'm exhausted. I just hiked up and down a mountain and faced down death."

Mabel pointed at Nikola. "You faced down a big salamander."

"Close enough."

They went upstairs, brushed their teeth, went to their bedroom...

And stopped in the door. Bill was still asleep. "Oh. Right," Dipper said.

He was curled into a ball on his left side, facing the wall, covered with only the zodiac blanket and his borrowed/stolen top hat sitting on the side of his head. He didn't use a pillow; he'd pushed Mabel's pillows and dolls behind himself to form a squishy makeshift fortress.

"Please don't wake him up," Mabel whispered. (She'd already set up the folding bed for herself; she'd clearly planned on this.) "He's had a really really hard time the last couple of days, and I think he needs as much sleep in a real bed as he can get, and it's just for one night, and I'm sure he'd rather sleep than do anything evil—"

"He said something, didn't he?"

Mabel paused. "Yeah. I think seeing his body really messed him up."

Dipper sighed. "We were trying to keep him away from it." He didn't want Mabel to think they'd forced him to stare his own death in the face. "But he did that... eye thing and looked through the trees, and..."

Mabel nodded.

Well. Dipper couldn't kick him out now. For Mabel's sake.

As children, occasionally when they got hotel rooms with a bed too few, their parents would stick them in one bed with a barrier of pillows in between them. At age thirteen and without two crabby parents trying to get them to just go to bed after a long plane flight, they unanimously vetoed that plan. Dipper decided against asking Stan if he could sleep in Ford's unoccupied bed, both because he suspected Stan would just go upstairs and drag Bill out of the room and because he didn't want Stan to think he was scared of Bill. He wasn't scared of Bill. Not anymore. He could handle one measly night in the same room as him. Anyway, somebody had to make sure he wasn't unsupervised in their bedroom all night, right?

Dipper and Mabel quietly set a floor mirror and old lamp next to Mabel's bed, draped a sheet between them, taped on a pink poster that said "WARNING! TRIANGLE ZONE!" and was covered in stickers of triangular objects, and decided Dipper was adequately shielded. If Bill did get up during the night, he'd probably trip through the sheet and wake half the house before he got anywhere near Dipper.

Dipper went to sleep with a baseball bat in his hands.

####

"Okay," Bill said, hands on his sides, "what am I looking at here?"

The feral band members of Sev'ral Timez turned toward Bill, eyes reflecting in the dim light. They were squatting around Bill's petrified corpse like a pack of apes examining a sleek black monolith.

"Hey girl," Creggy G. said.

"Hey," Bill said. He looked down at himself. His onyx black feet hovered over the ground and the yellow glow from his exoskeleton illuminated the clearing. "Lemme cut to the chase, is this gonna turn into a raunchy dream? My corporeal love life is about as cold and dry as Antarctica, I keep hoping one of my dreams will get a little hotter and wetter—"

"Nah, G," Deep Chris said. "Mr. Bratsman got us fixed."

"Aw."

"We're here to pay you reverence for freeing our minds from the chains of the conventional," Greggy C said, gesturing to Bill's corpse. Leggy P was kneeling and bowing to it and Chubby Z was posing for it. "We want to help free you like you tried to help free humanity."

Bill's eye narrowed. He tapped a finger against the edge of one brick as he considered this offer. Finally, skeptically, he said, "Fine. I'll bite. Why should I think you can help me?"

"Because we can give you the understanding your heart's been missing, girl. You're just like us," Chubby Z said. "A horror never meant to exist, born of a dream to construct the perfect golden idol, forced to dwell within an unnaturally-fabricated human shell."

Bill tilted his head thoughtfully. "I'm with you so far."

"We want you to join us," Deep Chris said. "Cavort with us in the silvan night, G. Shun the harsh light of the spotlight for the healing salve of moonbeams. We'll get drunk on the sweet fermented summer berries, uncaring of how the brambles prick our flesh. We'll dance in a frenzy of ecstasy and only sleep when the morning sun lifts the dew from the flowers and the sweat from our skin. It'll be straight Dionysian, boo."

"We can kiss the hot trees," Creggy G said.

Bill grabbed his shoulder. "Oh, you're the human that keeps making out with birch trees! I knew your face was familiar!" He paused. "So... are there any eligible ones around here?"

"Sure, girl, just downstream."

"If I'd known, I would've polished myself first."

"Say you'll join us, Bill girl," Deep Chris said. The band crowded around Bill to either side, posing around him—the backup dancers for the star singer. "You'd be one of us."

"We're already exactly the same," Creggy G said, holding up a mirror so that it reflected his and Bill's faces beside each other. In Bill's human face were two empty white eyes with pinprick pupils and pale blue irises, exactly the same as the eyes of the Sev'ral Timez boys.

He sat up with a gasp, hands flying to his face. There were still green boughs at the edges of his dreaming vision, blending into the wooden boards of the Mystery Shack's attic. Before sleep had fully fled his mind, he seized up the zodiac blanket draped over his body and stared into his embroidered eye.

The eye stared back at him. Through it, he could see his horrified sleepy face, and his normal slitted yellow eyes. His connection to the blanket's eye disappeared as he finished waking up.

He heaved a sigh of relief and flopped back down. He'd been lucid, but he hadn't been in control of that dream. He still needed practice.

He rolled toward the light of the window, groped around beneath it until he found his journal, grabbed up his crayons, and flipped pages blearily until he found the first blank one. He started writing down his dream, pausing only briefly as he tried to figure out how to translate "Sev'ral Timez" before settling on a sufficiently goofy way to misspell "several times" in Plaintext.

He made it halfway down the page before he stopped. Hold on. This wasn't his beautiful journal. These were not his beautiful crayons. He checked the cover and grimaced in displeasure when he saw a pine tree rather than a hand. Dipper's journal. Bill ripped out the page, ate it, and set the journal and Mabel's crayons back on the table under the bedroom window.

"What was that," Dipper asked, "some kind of Morse code?"

Bill yelped and twisted around. Dipper's soul was hovering above Mabel's headboard, watching over Bill's shoulder.

"Hey! Back, foul ghost!" Bill snatched up Mabel's pillow and swung it at Dipper.

"Ow—Hey! How did you hit me, I'm in the mindscape—"

"I said back!" Bill swung again, chasing Dipper off the bed. "Back into your fleshy tomb!" He climbed off the bed, stumbled into Dipper and Mabel's trap, tripped through the sheet and probably woke up half the house.

He yanked the sheet off and flung the pillow at Dipper by its corner. "Now get back in your body, go to sleep, and leave me alone."

"I don't know how to get back in it. I just wait until it happens by itself," Dipper said, floating irritably over his sleeping body, arms crossed. "Why do you think I just wander around every time I have this dream?" He paused. "Right—it's not a dream, is it."

Bill sighed heavily. "Try putting your body on like..." He almost said like an exoskeleton, remembered his audience, and amended himself: "Like it's clothing. I usually start with the hands. Just like putting on gloves!"

Dipper looked at the cold fingers wrapped tightly around the baseball bat. "How do I put hands on like gloves? There's no opening or—"

"Just try it, would you?" Bill sat tiredly on the edge of Mabel's bed.

Dipper shot him an irritated look, but pressed his ghostly hands against his fleshly ones, passing through the skin until one set of fingers rested inside the other. A fingertip twitched.

Bill gestured with one hand, continue. "Now the sleeves."

"I know how to get dressed." Dipper laid down in his body, forearm into forearm, shoulder into shoulder—until he was wholly back inside. He sat up, awake. "Huh."

"There, see?" Bill said. "And if you want to take it back off, just do the same thing in reverse. Like degloving your body from your soul!"

"Did you have to phrase it like that?" Still, Dipper tried it, peeling out of his body from the fingertips up. He left his body sitting upright as he hovered over it.

Bill chuckled tiredly. "Lookit your face, staring at nothing. Stupid looking."

"Shut up." He slid back into his body, more quickly now that he knew what he was doing.

"Great," Bill said. "Now that you know how to get back in your body, never do that again." He flopped back onto Mabel's bed and rolled over to face the wall. "It's a pain in my base having you wander around all night."

"Then you should've thought of that before you ripped my soul out of my body," Dipper grumbled. "Can you reattach me to my body?"

"Sure, easy." He lifted a hand to point down at his regrettably human form. "Not like this, though. Wanna help reattach me to my body?"

"Never in a million years."

"Then come back in a million years. There's nothing I can do for you until then." Bill dragged Mabel's zodiac blanket back over himself. "So sorry. Go to sleep. Leave me alone."

Dipper bet Bill could do it and was only saying he couldn't to try to trick Dipper into helping him. But he lay back down—clutching his bat again—and shut his eyes.

After a moment, Bill asked, "Where's Mabel? Sleepover?"

"Sofa bed in the living room."

"Right."

And then there was silence.

Several minutes passed. Dipper nearly fell back asleep. He heard Bill climbing out of bed and creeping across the room; but the footsteps didn't approach Dipper's bed, so he didn't open his eyes.

A few minutes after that, Dipper heard him come back, walking more heavily. He cracked open an eye to see what Bill was up to.

He was carrying Mabel, who was still asleep; his arms were trembling from her weight, but even at that Dipper hadn't known Bill was that strong. With a quiet grunt, he set her on her bed, then haphazardly tossed her sheet and zodiac blanket over her. He picked up his top hat from the bed and put it on; and then he wandered off, footsteps quiet as a ghost, and Dipper heard the creak of the door as he left the bedroom.

That was a lot nicer than Dipper had expected from Bill. Maybe he did care about Mabel in his own way.

Mabel rolled over and latched on to one of her dolls. Dipper shut his eye and fell back asleep.

####

(My favorite part of writing this was Bill dreaming about Sev'ral Timez saying the most absurdly flowery things imaginable. Anyway, let me know what y'all think about this week's chapter! And reminder that I MIGHT skip next week or the week after because the next couple chapters need heavier editing than usual.)

#bill cipher #human bill cipher #sev'ral timez #(a tag i have never used before and will probably never use again.)#gravity falls #gravity falls fic #gravity falls fanart #fanart #my art #my writing #bill goldilocks cipher

3K notes · View notes

atlabeth · 7 months ago

Text

pretty boy

pairing: spencer reid x reader

summary: spencer walks in one day with a new look. you handle it pretty well.

a/n: im in the opposite of a writing slump right now (will prob fall into a writing slump right after i say this) probably because im procrastinating on essays for school and i can only write when im meant to be doing work. but tiny little fluffy spencer one shots are very good for the soul right now. i think it's my way of healing from my hotch fic

wc: 1.8k

warning(s): one slightly sexual joke from emily. all fluff

You usually don’t get to the office this early, but you don’t exactly have a choice. The BAU’s last couple cases have all run one after another, barely leaving you any time in the office, and now you’re paying for it.

You’ve got a mountain of paperwork to get through and not nearly enough time to do it all—if you’re lucky, you’ll be writing reports for a few days straight. If you’re not, you’ll be putting in some overtime.

“This is the most focused I’ve ever seen you this early,” Derek comments.

You shake your head with a sigh. “These reports are government mandated torture.”

He chuckles, and he nods at Emily as she walks over to her desk. “Are you this busy?”

She shakes her head. “I’ve still got a report to get through, but nothing that bad.”

“I get it,” you say wryly. “You’re all more organized than me. Just don’t come to me asking to go out tonight—you know I can’t say no.”

“But don’t shots taste better when you’re supposed to be doing work?” Derek asks, and you roll your eyes with a laugh.

“Not when I’ve got this much work I’m supposed to be doing.”

You hear the elevator ding and glance up—Spencer’s walking through and fixing his tie. You look back down at your report as you greet him.

“Hey, Spence,” you call. “Why’re you late?”

“I’m not late,” he says, and you can see him checking his watch out of your peripherals. “I’m two minutes and thirty-three seconds early.”

“Really?” you muse. “I guess I’m just so used to you being here before me.”

“You can’t judge my timeliness on yours when you’ve been here for an hour already,” Spencer says.

You frown, tapping your pen against the paper. “How do you know?”

“You’re settled in already. Your coat’s on your chair, your stack of unfinished files is smaller than it was last time we were in the office, your coffee isn’t steaming, and your mug has a chipped handle—when they were put away last night, that one was set in the front, so you’d have to be here early to get it.”

“Touche,” you murmur. You’re not sure why you ever ask your team of profilers how they know something.

“You also look like you don’t want to be here,” he comments. “That’s pretty typical of agents who have to be here before their regular hours.”

You chuckle and tilt your head in admission. You don’t really want to be here, especially running on so few hours of sleep.

“Why aren’t you as early as usual?” Emily asks.

“My neighbor knocked on my door this morning to ask me for something,” Spencer says. “It threw off my whole routine. I picked the wrong tie, I couldn’t pack my bag properly, and I had to toast my bagel for two minutes instead of three and a half to make it out in time.”

“How terrible,” Derek says with mock austerity.

“It is terrible!” he exclaims. “It’s scientifically proven that a morning routine makes you happier, more energized, and ready to seize the day—carpe diem.” Spencer sets his bag on the floor next to his desk and looks at everyone else with a smile. “Did you know that phrase was actually coined by the Roman poet Horace in his Odes? It comes from the first book out of four in the eleventh poem—the full phrase in Latin is carpe diem, quam mini—”

“How was your bagel?” Emily asks to interrupt him, and he pauses.

“It was good,” he says. “Could’ve been toastier.”

You look up, a teasing remark on the edge of your tongue, but the words die in your throat when you actually see him.

Spencer’s started combing a hand through his hair to fix it—must have been another part of his affected morning routine—his lips set in a pout as he tries to see his reflection in his dark monitor. He always looks good, even without trying, but now—

“You’re wearing glasses,” you say dumbly.

“My contacts dried out,” he grumbles, still focused on his hair. “We got home so late last night I forgot to put them in their solution, and I had no time to fix them because my neighbor messed up my whole morning.”

You nod, still unable to tear your eyes away from him. “Are you gonna keep wearing them?”

“I don’t know. Contacts are better for cases because I’m not worried about them falling off or fogging up, but I usually sleep on the jet on the way back, and sleeping with contacts in isn’t good.” He smiles a bit as he fully turns to you, seemingly satisfied with his hair. “It reduces the amount of oxygen that gets to your cornea, which damages the cornea’s surface and makes it harder to regenerate new cells. Sleeping with contacts actually makes you six to eight times more likely to get an eye infection.”

You nod again, your brain still not quite working at full power. You always love listening to Spencer’s fact dumps—it gives you a lot of material to impress your non-BAU friends with on the side, and you’re eternally thankful for that—but right now, you seriously cannot focus.

You’d never really thought about him in glasses, but that’s probably a good thing if this is how it makes you feel.

You were valedictorian as an undergrad, and you received stellar feedback from your professors during your masters program. You’re an excellent profiler, a valued member of the BAU, and you’re a goddamn FBI agent.

And yet you can’t find a single thought in your head because your coworker showed up to work wearing glasses.

He’s still rambling about other common causes of eye infection and how nobody seems to take them as seriously as they should, when Derek, not even trying to hide his grin at your turmoil, speaks up.

“Reid. Wanna cool it a bit?”

Spencer’s eyes dart over to him for a moment before he stops. “Uh— sorry.” He frowns as he looks back at you. “Why do you ask? Do you not like them?”

“No,” you blurt out, and you shake your head a multitude of times. “No. They look great. You look great. They’re—” You dig your nails hard into your palm as you try your hardest to smile like normal, and this time you nod. “They’re good, Spence.”

“Thanks.” Spencer does that little smile-nod combo of his, and he pushes his glasses back into place with his thumb by the bottom of the frames. “That’s nice to know I’ve got another option.”

You thank whatever god may be out there that Hotch and Penelope are busy in their offices and JJ is busy with some other case, because you think you would die if anyone else saw you like this.

“Hey, Reid,” Emily says, also not doing a very good job of hiding her amusement. You hate your team sometimes. “They’re almost out of sugar in the breakroom. If you want coffee the way you like it this morning, you should probably get in there.”

“What?” Spencer shoots up, his brows already furrowing into a frown. “That— that’s ridiculous. I can’t mess up my morning any more.”

“You’d better get in there, then,” she remarks.

“We’re an entire office of agents running on coffee,” Spencer complains as he starts walking. “How are we almost out of sugar?”

“Because half of ‘em drink it black,” Derek says, and Spencer shakes his head with a sigh as he leaves.

“That’s ridiculous.”

You bury your head in your hands the moment he’s gone and Derek laughs. “I wish I could’ve gotten that on video.”

“Don’t talk to me,” you groan. “It is not fair of him to walk in like that.”

“And that is why I call him pretty boy.”

“He needs them to see,” Emily says with amusement as she leans against the side of your desk. “You just can’t control yourself.”

“I need to transfer offices,” you say, shaking your head. “I can’t do this.”

“You should ask him out!” Derek encourages. “He’d probably say yes.”

“Absolutely not,” you insist. “I doubt he likes me like that. A— and even if he does, that’s the last thing either of us need right now.”

“I don’t know,” Emily muses. “It looks like you clearly need something.”

You let out a frustrated noise as you screw your eyes shut. “I’m doomed.”

You hear Spencer say your name, and when you look over at him, one hand still pressed against your head, you see he’s got two cups of coffee in his hands. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you say weakly. “I’m great. Why?”

“I got you one too,” he says, holding one of the mugs out to you. “The one you have is probably cold by now, and it looks like you need an extra kick to get through all those reports.”

“Thanks, Spence. That’s sweet.” He nods as you take the proffered mug, and you swear your cheeks are as warm as the coffee. He is really testing your strength today.

“You— you have a lot,” he says, and you huff a dry laugh and nod. “I’m not trying to be sarcastic. I could take half of them if you want?”

Your grip tightens on the mug and you can feel Derek’s eyes on you. “I couldn’t make you do that, Spence.”

“You’re not!” Spencer exclaims. “I can get through mine really quickly—we worked together for almost the whole last case so I can do all of that anyways.”

“...You’re sure it wouldn’t be an imposition?”

“I’m sure,” he nods. “Besides, I offered. I wouldn’t if I didn’t want to.”

And god damn him, because he nudges his glasses back into place again, pushes a strand of loose hair back into place. You’re dying over here.

You set the mug of coffee on your desk and pick up the top half of your pile. “All yours, Spence.”

He takes the bottom half and smiles at you, and you smile back before he walks back to his desk. You are dying over here.

“Let me know how I can pay you back,” you say, and he shakes his head.

“You don’t need to pay me back.”

“Really?”

Spencer nods. “I mean, Morgan invited us all out on the jet last night, and I don’t think I can do it alone. If you can get out of the office in time, I don’t have to. I think that's enough of a payback.”

“Yeah,” you say. “I’ll be there.”

He smiles again and nods, then he picks up a pen and focuses in. You turn back to your desk, your face burning.

“What was that about him not liking you like that?” Derek says.

“Quiet!” you whisper-yell, swatting him with the pile of files in your hand. “He might hear you!”

“He’s not hearing anything while he’s focused on that,” he says. “That just means you can ogle him more.”

You groan again, letting your forehead fall into your palm. “I’m pathetic.”

“I think you’re right.” Emily chuckles as she stands up. “You are doomed.”

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fluff #x reader #sadie writes

3K notes · View notes

reidmania · 17 days ago

Text

love letters | s.reid

summary; when you miss spencer while he is away on a case, you re-read all the love letters he has written you over the course of your relationship

warnings; established relationships, mentions case but doesnt go into detail, fem reader, reader is not a coffee drinker, fluff fluff fluff

an; fic six!! this is just pure fluff tbh. also can we appreciate the colouring on this fic. ITS SO PERFECT PRETTU PERFECT.

You’re lying on the bed that feels too big without him, your fingers idly tracing the edge of a soft, worn piece of paper. The clock beside you reads 2:12 a.m., and you can’t shake the emptiness settling over you as you stare at the ceiling, too awake to sleep and too tired to do anything else. Spencer’s been away for three days now, and every hour without him feels like it stretches on and on, the silence heavier than you’d ever thought silence could be.

Your eyes drift back to the drawer beside your bed, a drawer he never opens, but where you keep something he would recognize instantly. Tucked away are letters, dozens of them, each one a quiet reminder of him. They’re notes, really—not grand declarations, not epic poems. Just little reminders he’s left you over time, slipped into coat pockets or left folded on your pillow. You hadn’t intended to save them all, but now, having them close is the only thing keeping you grounded while he’s away.

You open the drawer and pull out the little bundle tied with a piece of twine. Your heart swells as you untie it, gently unfolding the first note. It’s one of your favorites, written on a torn scrap of notebook paper, one corner crinkled from a drop of coffee. Spencer had left it on your kitchen counter before heading out to work, months ago.

“If I could leave you notes all over the world, I would. But for now, just look outside—it’s raining, and I know that makes you feel calm. I’ll be home before the storm’s over. – S”

You smile, remembering that day. You’d found the note just before noticing the rain falling in gentle streams outside your window, and you’d waited with a blanket by the window, watching the clouds until he came back, just like he’d promised. He always knew how to turn your little quirks into anchors.

Setting that note aside, you reach for another. This one’s written on the back of a receipt from the bookshop downtown. It’s short and scrawled in his neat handwriting.

“You pick up this book as if it’s a friend you haven’t seen in years. It’s beautiful to watch. Don’t forget to mark your place in the story—I want to hear what you think. – S”

You laugh to yourself, remembering how he’d tucked it into the back of the book after you bought it. He hadn’t let you see it until you found it yourself one night, and the memory of the way he’d watched you read that note makes your heart ache just a little more.

You lie back against the pillows, shifting so you’re curled around his side of the bed. It’s silly, maybe, reading these notes over and over. But as you go through them, each one reminds you how much he loves you, how he notices things about you that you hadn’t even noticed about yourself. His love is a quiet kind, a series of small gestures and words, but somehow, it feels bigger than anything else you’ve known.

Another note catches your eye. This one’s on a tiny sticky note, a bright yellow square you’d found on your mirror one morning.

“You make coffee exactly how I like it, even when you don’t drink it. I don’t think anyone’s ever done that for me before. I’m lucky. – S”

You can still remember the warmth of his hand over yours when he found you reading it, how he hadn’t needed to say anything else.

The letters become a timeline of your relationship, a way to measure time not by dates but by memories, by little notes that remind you of the person you are when you’re with him. Each one has a tiny piece of his heart tucked into it, a small reminder that he’s with you even when he’s halfway across the country.

You read through a few more, feeling your eyes grow heavy but not wanting to close them. There’s something grounding about seeing his words, knowing that he took the time to write these little messages just for you. In a way, it makes the ache of missing him almost bearable, makes you feel connected to him in a way that’s both heartbreaking and comforting.

You’ve just set down the last one, a note he left in the middle of a crossword puzzle—“How do you always know the words I can’t think of? I love you.”—when your phone buzzes on the nightstand.

It’s him.

You answer on the first ring, not even caring if he’ll be able to hear the lingering sleepiness in your voice. “Spencer?” you say, unable to help the warmth in your tone.

“Did I wake you?” His voice is soft, low, and there’s a hint of worry in it.

“Not really. I couldn’t sleep,” you reply. There’s a beat of silence before you add, “I was reading some of your notes.”

The smile in his voice is unmistakable. “You kept those?”

“All of them.” You can practically feel his surprise through the line. “It helps. You know, with you being away.”

He hums softly, a sound you know means he’s thinking. “Do you have a favourite?”

There’s a hundred favourites, but you know the answer without hesitating. “The one on the mirror, about the coffee. I don’t think anyone’s ever noticed something like that before.”

The line goes quiet for a moment, but you know he’s smiling. “I think about those little things a lot,” he admits. “I keep thinking about how much I miss you. I know I’ll be back in a few days, but it doesn’t stop me from wishing it was sooner.”

Your heart tightens, and you can’t help but imagine him sitting in some unfamiliar hotel room, thinking of you just as much as you’re thinking of him. “I miss you, too,” you whisper, barely able to keep your voice steady.

There’s another pause, the comforting kind, where neither of you needs to say anything. It’s enough just to be together, even like this.

“Do you want to hear about the case?” he asks gently, as if he’s afraid you’ll say no. You do, because it’s part of him, and you always want to know. So he tells you, his voice a familiar comfort in the dark, weaving through the details with that measured precision he’s so good at. You listen, nodding at the right places, even though he can’t see you, letting his words settle over you like a lullaby.

When he’s finished, there’s a soft exhale on the other end of the line. “Do you have any notes for me?” he asks, the hint of a tease in his voice.

“I could think of a few,” you say with a smile, glancing down at the scattered pages on your bed. “Maybe a sticky note on your phone: ‘Call your girlfriend as soon as the plane lands.’”

You can hear his smile widen. “I think I can manage that.” His voice softens, the words almost like a whisper. “I’ll keep leaving them, you know. Notes, I mean. Just in case.”

“In case of what?”

“In case you ever need a reminder. That I love you. That I notice the little things. That I’ll be there, even if it takes a while.”

You’re quiet, just for a moment, because the words stick in your throat. He always knows how to get to the heart of things, how to make you feel so understood. “I don’t need a reminder for that,” you say. “But I’ll still read them every time I miss you.”

“Then I guess it’s a good thing I’ve written so many,” he murmurs, the warmth in his voice unmistakable. “Get some sleep, okay? I’ll be home before you know it.”

You nod, letting your eyes close. “I love you, Spencer.”

“I love you, too,” he replies, his voice like a gentle embrace over the line. “Sleep well.”

The call ends, but you hold the phone to your chest, listening to the quiet in your room. For the first time in days, it doesn’t feel lonely. Spencer may be miles away, but his words are here, resting against your heart, waiting for you in every corner of every room.

791 notes · View notes

selenitesdawn · 23 days ago

Text

Temperance (1/3)

pairing: wanda maximoff x female!reader plot: Your best friend Kate convinced you to do charity work in Sokovia with some of your old classmates, including your former bully Vision and his girlfriend Wanda Maximoff, who you inconveniently took too much of a liking in. warnings: 18+ !! minors dni. wanda is with vision... also, suggestive content I guess word count: 1115

Patience is a virtue. Patience is the solution. These have been your only thoughts for days now. From a self-imposed affirmation to a recurring echo in your head, this reminder is all you had to get through the situation at hand. What else could you do? Keep trying to ignore your desire? The craving that has kept you awake for days and nights?

The thing is, you may be able to trick your brain for a while. Convince yourself that the way her nose wrinkles when she grins doesn't do anything to you. That the way her middle and ring finger draw the same patterns over and over again on the pages of her book whenever she is deep in thought, doesn't stir something inside of you. That the muffled moans coming from her and Vision's room at night don't bother you. Your brain has managed to lie to itself for a long time, but you can no longer ignore what Wanda is doing to you. So instead of denying your feelings, you decided that you have to sit through them. Until you can finally leave this place.

You weren't planning on pining after your old classmate's girlfriend, but here you were. Miles away from home, locked up with the constant reminder that you can never be with Wanda the way you want to. Originally, the three months in Sokovia were supposed to fulfill you. You just wanted to take care of the local street dogs with your best friend Kate. Do something good. That was it.

“Come on y/n, you've always had a heart for street animals,” your best friend said to you at the time. Back then she turned up at your door without a warning and told you about this great trip Vision had planned.

“Kate, I barely got anything done last semester. I can't waste another one. Besides, my boss never gives me that long of a vacation.”

You knew Kate wouldn't leave your apartment until you said yes. You could tell by the way her eyes were gleaming. How she slightly bend over the table you were sitting at, her gaze not leaving you for one second. Of course, the whole thing is much easier for Kate. Her mother is filthy rich. Kate can basically do whatever she wants. She could disappear for one year, travel the world with money she didn't earn and wouldn't have to worry about her life back home for one moment. You don't have that luxury.

“Think about it. First of all, you do something that fulfills you. Besides, I know you y/n. You haven't wanted to work in that rancid bakery for months. We'll find something new for you afterwards. Not to mention that volunteering to help street dogs for three months looks great on your CV. Plus: I heard Vision rented a mansion”

Vision. The name alone triggered something in you. Vision is not only the son of the famous billionaire Tony Stark, but also a giant asshole. Before Vision knew you were friends with Kate, he took every opportunity to trigger you in some way. Like standing in front of your locker with his group of followers for no reason, just so you couldn't get to it. The worst thing he ever did was probably when he stole your notebook and read out loud in class what you had written about your former classmate Natasha. Some cheesy and cringe poem you managed to suppress from your memories. From that day on, it wasn't just the whole school that knew you liked women. You also were never able to look Natasha in the eye again. But Vision somehow always managed to come out of it okay. His reputation was disgustingly squeaky clean.

“It's so weird imagining Vision doing something voluntarily that doesn't serve only himself. Are you sure he isn't just joking?,” you had asked back then.

“I think he has really changed since high school. Besides, his girlfriend is originally from Sokovia and I think it was her idea? I don't know for sure. But please, y/n, join me. I'd do anything to spend more than an hour a week with my best friend. And this is a once in a lifetime opportunity! Vision specifically asked if you want to join.”

You've never been able to deny Kate a wish. But also, it's never led you into such a miserable situation before. So this is where you were. In a villa far too grand for it to feel like a prison. Besides Vision, Wanda and Kate, there were two other old classmates; Steve and Bucky. Living together turned out to be easier than you thought, especially considering the fact that Vision was there. But your feelings for Wanda kept causing you problems. Whenever the redhead came near you, you started to stumble over your words. One long look alone could throw you completely off balance. But it was even worse when she smiled at you. When she listened to you and her head slightly tilted at the same time. Or when you were cooking and she suddenly appeared behind you, her hand softly placed around your waist and her head set down on your shoulder.

“What are you blessing us with this evening?,” she inquired with an almost teasing tone in her voice.

Before you were able to even articulate anything, she took her free hand, slid it along your arm and took the wooden spoon out of your hand.

“May I?,” her voice dangerously low, as she already moved the spoon towards her mouth, looking straight at you. You just gulped and managed a small nod as Wanda put the spoon in her mouth, her gaze never leaving you as she sucked it clean. Her green eyes were barely visible as her dilated pupils covered them almost completely. A soft moan escaped from her lips as she handed the spoon back to you.

“You're so good at this y/n,” Wanda groans, her hand which still holds onto your waist making its way to your lower back, smoothly slipping under your loose t-shirt. The cold rings on her fingers on your warm skin immediately sent shivers down your spine. Her pinky slightly slipped under the waistband of your sweatpants before she left you standing alone in the kitchen.

She must do this on purpose. There is no other way.

You thought to yourself. But what was the use? Either you are right and she does it on purpose or you are wrong and project your fantasies onto her. In both cases, it is best to simply stay away from Wanda. Because there is no way you don't end up completely fucked. Right?

: Part 2

#wanda maximoff #wanda x you #wanda x reader #scarlet witch #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff fanfiction #kate bishop #kate bishop x reader

474 notes · View notes

emdotcom · 1 year ago

Text

Man. The Herobrine really is summat else. We got:

A glitch of a ghost in the machine that causes every error in the game

The White Eyes character, stemming from a texture error, which becomes associated with the cave noise & eventually leads to the creation of the Herobrine myth

Transgender swag

The fucken. Brocraft stream that links to that ONE image & implies that either you or Herobrine are "asleep" & dreaming

The way that Herobrine myths kicked up due to the TF2 influx, after the devs made mention of the game

Every single unexplained structure in the game, all abandoned, all without a clear group that created them can & will be associated with Herobrine

The mineshafts. The ruined portals. The deep dark. It's kind of like a story, told in three arcs, if you squint right

Like something that used to live there, toiled in the soil along with the worms

Like something that got locked away, that wants to go back

Like something that needs to be kept out

Every single zombie looks like Steve. Does that say anything? Does it imply something about Herobrine, another reflection, but maybe a bit more sentient? With teeth that are a bit more sharp, with a malice that is a bit more cold?

Mojang putting the "Removed Herobrine" note in for YEARS, then one day dropping it, only to bring it back 3 years later

N*tch being scrubbed from the game's lore, so he's also (sometimes) scrubbed from Herobrine's lore, leading to alternate origins

He is the first player. He is the ghost of a fellow player. He is an architect, a miner, a builder. He is a friend to all the mobs, & an enemy to those that take all the trees & never replant the saplings. He is a curious onlooker, probably harmless. He is a deep loathing. He is a danger, a legend, just a myth, but is he?

The way that people's opinions of Herobrine have shifted through years, like a litmus test for Minecraft players as a whole

It starts with the eerie feeling of being in a room you KNOW should be empty, but feeling eyes on you, anyways & ends with a sad type of goodbye, a dreamer seeking a dreamer condemned

The way he's more quiet, more calm, less prone to the griefing & attacks he was once known for, like his fire has cooled with time

The Minecraft end poem. Maybe. Do you think Herobrine ever got to hear those words? "I love you," & "You have played the game well"?

The person with the Herobrine username, which has had the catboy Herobrine skin on for years o7

#gale chatter #minecraft #herobrine #as you can see. i am very normal about these squares #1k #2k #3k

3K notes · View notes

werecreature-addicted · 10 months ago

Note

i cannot handle a poly relationship for the life of me in reality but fictionally…

poly monster relationship with a human, just a single person with like a minimum of four (4) monster partners who people think are in charge due to being big and scary, but are so devoted to their human and basically worship them

even in bed when they take turn destroying their holes, having two inside of them while one destroys their mouth (or having more then one at once inside), wearing them down to a boneless pile of sweaty meat and fluids and they lose the ability to walk or talk and they get pumped full over and over and over, knowing their partners won’t stop until they are satisfied

then going back to pampering the human with aftercare and cuddles once they finished

I feel the same way. in real life? not for me. but the idea of having 4-6 monster lovers that all share you. I really like the idea of them all being different monsters too.

A mermaid/ siren whom you have a sort of long-distance relationship with, only being able to see you when you have enough vacation time to make it out to the beach, otherwise you mostly only get to talk to her with a magic shell she gave you that acts like a phone.

Two or three werewolves that run in a pack close to your home and all fight each other to impress you, whether with feet of strength or with enjoyable dates. You hardly get individual time with any one werewolf. The other werewolf/wolves are too jealous to leave you alone for long, and their pack mates are like family. it's not third-wheeling if everyone's having fun.

A vampire who takes up your nights, he likes Urban exploring, he takes you to older run-down buildings, long since abandoned. If he knows, he'll tell you what these places used to be, and any memories he might have there. He's a bit of a romantic and spends the daytime writing you poems and sending old-fashioned love letters. He scents the paper and everything.

Last but certainly not least, a nature spirit who lives in your backyard keeping up a lovely garden. Even if you never asked them to. Fruits and vegetables never seem to go bad when they're nearby, and they enjoy cooking with you. Telling you which spices would go best with your meal off the top of their head. they also have tentacle-like vines that they can bend to their will.

All of these monsters would like to be your one and only, but they're satisfied with whatever time they get. And of course, fucking you braindead every chance they get. Mermaid girlfriend who can go down on you for hours, hell she doesn't need to come up for air. Werewolf gang bang! WEREWOLF GANG BANG! Vampire fucking you in an abandoned hospital making you scream until the locals are spreading ghost stories. and a Nature fairy using vines and plants to make you cum until you pass out in a soft bed of grass. all of these options are right at your fingertips, all you have to do is ask.

#monster imagine #monster fucker #monster #monster boyfriend #teratophillia #werewolf x reader #vampire x reader #mermaid x reader #vine monster

2K notes · View notes

my-castles-crumbling · 8 months ago

Text

instrument - @jegulus-microfic - word count: 202

"You don't know me, James!" Regulus burst out, his frustration getting the best of him.

They were arguing again. Standing in the middle of the courtyard, James just having asked Regulus to spend time with him for the second time that week.

"I like you," he'd said, a small, sad smile on his face, like he already knew the answer. "Please go to Hogsmeade with me?"

But Regulus had just scoffed. What did James now about him really?

But after his outburst, James's face changed.

"Don't know you?" James asked, looking almost offended. "Don't-" he swallowed. "Reg, I know you. I know you're far smarter than anyone here. I know that you've been playing three different instruments since you were four and you can speak four languages. I know you read the same book of poems every time you're sad. I know you like flying because you can avoid your problems when you're in the air. Hell, I know you're sarcastic and blunt because it's easier for you to scare people off than for people to leave. I know you, Reg. Go to Hogsmeade with me. Please?"

Regulus could only stare. Blink and bite his lip and breathe, "Yes. I suppose- yes."

560 notes · View notes

daycourtofficial · 1 year ago

Text

Everything is Not As it Seems

Summary: You’ve been abducted, and the inner circle have to find you as quickly as possible.

Author’s note: this idea’s been floating around my head all weekend so I needed to get it out. I’m thinking this will be three parts - I already have part two done and some of three ! Also I’m a bit obsessed with the idea of Evil!Eris.

You received a letter three days ago that hasn’t left you alone since. It’s a simple letter, requesting your presence, but it’s signed by a mysterious “hound”.

You’ve mentioned the letter to the Inner Circle, at first they thought it might be someone just messing with you. Telling them that there are things in the letter about you caused some of them to get really nervous.

“What do you mean, specific details?” Rhys asked, as you brought up the letter.

“Little things,” you reply, sitting in the seat next to Rhys, “for instance, it’s addressed to me as ‘Little Fox’. That’s a nickname my brothers gave me because I was born in the autumn court. There’s a line from one of my favorite poems at the bottom. They mention my favorite flowers. It’s small things, but I’m not sure. Things that people could know about me. It’s like they’re luring me in by telling me they know me. I really feel an urge to go to find out who this is.”

“If someone’s stalking you, sweetheart, running into their trap isn’t what you should do,” Cassian says, looking over your shoulder at the letter in your hand.

“I don’t think they’re stalking me - I just think it’s someone that knows me, or at least used to know me,” you say, pausing. “I don’t know how I feel about going. On one hand, why stay anonymous? On the other, what if they have important information? I don’t know what to do.”

Rhys is the only one who looks like he’s actually considering you going to this meeting, everyone else looks apprehensive.

“I think it could be beneficial. Even if they don’t have much to tell us, it could help us determine another ally,” the high lord states.

Azriel is trying to stay calm on the outside, but he is going feral on the inside. Sending you, alone, into most likely enemy hands? He won’t stand for it.

“We’re not risking your life for knowledge on potential allies,” Azriel remarks, looking at you not with possessiveness, but fear. “None of us want anything to happen to you. There’s not much to gain from this, Rhys, but there’s a ton to lose.”

You look at him for a moment, forgetting the point of this meeting, seeing the concern in his eyes as they’re focused on you. You’re about to say it’s a bad idea, not wanting to cause Azriel anymore stress, when Rhysand states, “you’ll go. End of discussion. We’ll have Feyre and Cassian nearby on the lookout for you.”

Seeing Azriel’s distress during the meeting almost made you beg Rhys to reconsider, but the high lord is currently under such a high level of stress, the last thing he needs is you complaining about this meeting.

The letter asked for you to come completely alone. Rhys and Feyre stayed out of your mental shields, afraid that whoever it was would be able to sense their interference. The only thing keeping you from completely loneliness were the two shadows wrapped around your ankles underneath your skirt.

Two shadows was decided - if anything were to happen to you, one would report back to Azriel while the other remained with you. It was the only interference from Azriel Rhys would allow. He wanted to be standing nearby, waiting for any sign of distress from you, but Rhys wouldn’t allow it. He was all too aware of the effect you had on his brother, and he was going to keep Azriel in his sight while you went to this meeting.

You were standing in the trees, at the border between winter and autumn, right where the letter asked you to be. The border is a mixture of deep red leaves littering the ground that trail off into about a foot of snow. The cold morning air making your breath visible.

You hear movement, ready to set eyes on whoever sent the mysterious note.

“Hello, Little Fox.”

Azriel could not stand still. Rhysand had never seen him so visibly under duress. Azriel, who usually kept stock still and kept a stoic expression. Azriel was pacing and his hair was standing up from how much he was running his hands through it.

“Azriel, she’ll be okay. If anything happens, she can winnow to us, to Cassian, to Feyre. She’ll be okay.”

Cassian was stationed in the winter court, Feyre in the autumn court, both equidistant from you, however too far for them to know what’s happening during your meeting.

“I don’t like this. Something feels incredibly off. An ally sending a letter like that? It feels more like a love letter than some form of allyship. I think you let the high lord position cloud your judgement on this.”

“If it were a love letter, she wouldn’t have entertained it.” The high lord said, looking through the correspondence on his desk. He knows his nonchalance will annoy Azriel, hopefully allowing him some reprieve from the concern he’s feeling for you.

Azriel tuts, “you don’t know that.”

Rhys sighs, “you’re right, if she thought the love letter was from you, she would have gone, no hesitations.”

The high lord smirks, looking at the shadowsinger to gauge his reaction. He stops mid-step, “don’t say things like that if you don’t fully believe them,” then continues his pacing.

“I’ve known her for a long time, Az. In that time, she’s had many suitors come to her. She’ll always go on a first date - she says it’s because “you never know”, or whatever. Since being here and meeting you, I haven’t seen her even glance at another male vying for her attention.”

Azriel stops, looks at Rhys’s face for a long time, trying to decipher any hint of deception. His face was void of it. In fact, he looked honest and almost vulnerable.

Before Azriel could ask more, one of his shadows comes whizzing in at an incredibly fast speed, news of you, circling around Azriel’s ears to tell him what it saw as fast as it can.

“We have to go,” Azriel says, his face darkening with concern and shadows.

“Eris Vanserra, as I live and breathe,” you say, a smile gracing your face.

You don’t hate Eris, you actually spent some time with him while growing up. You don’t know if you particularly like Eris, however you’ve always had a soft spot for him due to the cruelties of his father.

“You seem surprised to see me,” he says, a smirk growing across his face, “I’m glad you came.”

“Why in Prythian did you send me a cryptic letter, and not just tell me who was requesting my presence?” You ask.

He steps closer to you and the tree you’re leaning against. “Because I’m sure those dogs would have thrown out any correspondence addressed from me to you.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” you say, letting the dog comment go for now.

“Oh? Then what about all of my previous letters?”

You stop, “previous letters?”

“I’ve been writing to you for months, my dear. I had to figure out new ways to get in contact with you.”

His grin was so feline, your interest in this meeting at an all time high. If Eris wanted an alliance with the night court, why would he go through all of this effort to reach you?

“Well, you have my attention now, Eris, what is it you desire?” You ask.

A wicked grin takes over his face, as he removes his hands from his pocket.

“You,” he says, unfurling his fist to reveal a powdery substance that he blows directly into your face.

You stumble a little and cough, confusion knitting your brows. You start to feel very heavy, and instinctively you reach out to lean against Eris as your balance starts getting more and more unsteady.

Eris is taking a few steps back, making you follow him. What you don’t realize in your confused state is he’s leading you across the border into Autumn, and once you have both feet in Autumn, he allows you to lean against him as he wraps his arms around your waist and winnows you away, except for one tiny little shadow that begins heading toward the Night Court.

“Fuck, fuck, FUCK!” Azriel is raving mad, having scoured the border for hours for you. “Where the FUCK did he take her?”

His shadow told him everything, how he incapacitated you, tricked you into willingly coming into his court. The shadows even recognized the faebane he made you inhale, however there was something different about this faebane they couldn’t quite figure out.

Azriel and Rhys scoured the location, with Rhys sending word to Cassian and Feyre to come to the rendezvous point.

“Brother-“ Rhys starts, trying to get Azriel to calm down. His anger was radiating off of him and the entire area was pitch black, with his shadows moving erratically.

“Don’t you dare,” Azriel snarls, “you convinced her to come here! You said “oh it’ll be safe! Cassian and Feyre won’t be too far away!” And now she’s gone! Who knows what he wants with her!”

Feyre and Rhys exchange a glance, clearly speaking to each other internally.

“Shut the fuck up! If you’re going to speak, speak out loud for all to hear!” Azriel barks.

Cassian was seriously concerned for his brother- he had never, ever seen him snap like that at anyone, let alone his high lord and high lady.

Feyre and Rhys were just as startled.

“Azriel, we understand, Feyre was in the spring court-“

“It’s not the same, not even one bit.” He bit back, “Feyre chose to go, she didn’t. Feyre is a High Lady, she isn’t. Feyre has tons of training and is powerful enough to hold her own against high lords, she isn’t. She’s with one of the most powerful non-high lord fae in Prythian. She can’t speak to us telekinetically, she has no mating bond to even tell if she’s alive, it is not the same.”

It’s been days since you were taken by Eris. All the inner circle can guess is that you’re somewhere in the Autumn Court. Eris covered his tracks well by having you willingly cross the border. Unless they had proof you were in imminent danger or being held against your will, there wasn’t much they could do, but that didn’t mean they stopped trying.

They even began going through the confiscated correspondence Eris tried to start with you, but it was mostly pleasantries, asking after Lucien, and updates on the lady of the autumn court, who you were quite fond of.

Azriel was looking paler than usual due to the loss of his shadows. They were all in the Autumn court, scouring every inch for you. They do as Azriel tells them to, yes, but he’s noticed how much they seem to like you. Some of them won’t come back to him when called, opting instead to play in your hair or ghost along your hands. He sighs at the memory.

Feyre is trying again to tap into your mind, just like she and Rhys have been trying to do the entire week you’ve been gone. Azriel was losing hope. He’d keep searching, he’d never stop searching, but he was losing hope.

Lost in his spiraling thoughts of a life without you in it, he was jolted from them when he heard Feyre gasp. “She let me in,” is all she says. The room has gone deadly quiet. “I’m not sure she knows I’m here, so I’m trying to keep very still.”

When you woke up, you were very confused. You must have fallen asleep at some point, the blankets wrapped around your naked body. The room you’re in is gorgeous, with brown walls, an ornately decorated fireplace, and beautiful artwork covering the walls. The door to your room begins to open and you breathe a sigh of relief at the sight of him.

“Hi sweetheart,” the male tells you, “I brought you coffee.”

The smell of the coffee hits you and you reach your hands out for a desperate taste of it.

“What time is it? How late did I sleep in?” You ask, taking a sip from the coffee cup. The notes of pumpkin melting onto your tongue.

“Mid-morning,” he coos, sitting next to you on the bed.

“And why didn’t you wake me?” You ask.

“I figured you deserved all the rest you could get after last night,” he says, placing a hand on your thigh, “and to have you well-rested for today.” He smirks.

You blush, still not used to this directness from him, “don’t you have work today?”

He sighs, “yes, yes, I just figured I’d bid you good morning before I started my day. Besides, I know you’ll be busy wedding planning all day. Wanted to see my beautiful bride at least once today.”

He kisses your temple, leaving you alone in the room, buzzing just thinking about his inevitable return.

Feyre didn’t dare broadcast the image to the Inner Circle. At first out of fear of what she might see - if you were being tortured, she didn’t want them to see that, especially not Azriel.

The contents of what she saw were almost more horrifying.

“Eris is playing tricks on her mind. She, uh, -“ Feyre looks around the room, afraid to tell them what she saw, making eye contact with Azriel, ultimately deciding to say something to get him to leave.

“He’s coercing her into marrying him.”

Everyone sits up straighter and chaos erupts. They all start yelling and bickering, trying to figure out what to do.

Rhys commands everyone’s attention, already having spoken with Feyre about getting Azriel out of the room.

“Azriel, see if you can find out anything about an upcoming autumn court wedding. If Eris and Beron are trying to hide this, it might not be known that it’s for a member of the High Lord’s family.”

Azriel leaves, thankful for something, anything, to keep his mind off of you marrying someone else and thankful for a small lead to finding you.

Once Azriel’s gone, Feyre turns to the group. “It gets worse.” She says, looking at Rhys in nervousness.

“How the Hel can it get any worse? Our friend being forced to marry him? What is worse than that?” Cassian asks, absolutely outraged that he let you go to that meeting.

“Eris has glamoured himself, it’s how he’s convinced her to go along with the marriage.” Feyre speaks softly, looking down at the ground.

The silence hangs in the room for a moment, and just when Feyre thought the silence would settle and stay for a while, Mor speaks up, “and who exactly is he glamoured as?”

Everyone in the room knows the answer, but they wait for Feyre’s confirmation.

“He’s glamoured as Azriel. She thinks she’s safe with Azriel in the Autumn Court and that they’re getting married soon.”

#acotar fanfiction #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel fanfic #azriel angst

818 notes · View notes

i-am-baechu · 2 months ago

Text

✩ Title: The Lovers

✩ Paring: Idol! Taehyung x Actress! Reader

✩ Summary: It's been a rule, if you date an actor or actress you have to be strong. Especially when you see them kissing another for their new drama. Why is it so hard to be strong?

✩ Genre: Fluff, romance, angst, Tae is just an insecure boy that needs a hug and smut

✩ Playlist: Only - LeeHi & Loving With All Your Heart by Domsonegongbang

✩ Authors note: Having a heat stroke sucks. I'm finally feeling better and I'm able to post this story. I'm sorry for being sick!

Prologue

"Insecurity kills all that is beautiful". - Anonymous

It was the early morning, the streets were still empty as the sun gently entered the buildings waking everyone up from their deep sleep. L/N Y/N slowly opened her eyes when she heard a cabinet close from the bathroom. She let out a small groan and turned towards the clock on her nightstand, 07:35 am. She ran her hand through her messy hair as she let a deep sigh out. Today was supposed to be her day off, and so was Taehyung’s but it seems like things have changed.

She glanced at the door with a frown, the talk from last night was still clouding up her mind. There was something wrong but she can’t change anything if he doesn’t tell her anything. She quickly shook her head and picked up her phone to message her best friend, Kim Sejeong.

How is he?

She looked up from the text and stared at the wall with a hard look. It was a simple question that had a complex answer. An answer that she doesn’t have, which made things harder.

I don’t know...he hasn’t really talked to me since our conversation.

Give him some time.

Kim Taehyung stared at the mirror with a hard look. He didn’t get much sleep last night, who would? Seeing the person you love cry because of your own foolishness could keep anyone up. That’s what made things so hard, especially right now. He glanced down at the sink as he closed his eyes and the scene replayed right before him.

Being center stage was normal for Taehyung. All eyes were on him as he expressed his feelings but this was different. The center stage that he became so familiar with was on fire and the only one that felt it was him. He stared at Y/N as she wiped tears away from her eyes, "Tae, why are you ignoring me?"

There was an answer but it couldn't leave his lips. He couldn't disappoint her....he couldn't see her eyes look at him with sadness or even pity. That would make him sick. All this was caused by his brain and nothing more.

He placed his hand on top of her knee and produced the best fake smile that he could muster, "I'm sorry love. I've been so tired."

Y/N glanced at his hand and then at his face, "Is that the truth?"

No..."Yes, let's go have dinner. I'm sorry I made you cry."

"Tae, just talk to me, please. I don't want to be left in the dark."

What kind of man am I? "You won't be in the dark."

I'll solve this for us, Y/N. Don't worry about my own foolishness. I'll become better for us.

He quickly snapped out of his thoughts when there was a knock at the door, “Baby, you’ve been in there for a long time...is everything okay?”

His fingers gripped the countertop and let out a small cough, “I’m okay...I’ll be out in a few minutes.”

“I’ll start breakfast...”

He listened to her footsteps until the silence was choking him. He roughly ran his fingers through his hair as he was frustrated with himself. A foolish man with a brain that tortures him and it was all his fault. Nothing more and nothing less.

ACT I [ Three Months ago]

"I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul." - Pablo Neruda, from his poem "Sonnet XVII" in "100 Love Sonnets"

Y/N put her coffee back down as the glare from the Hybe building blinds her. She was sitting at a cafe across the street and on this busy morning in Korea, she was hidden away by a black piece of fabric. It was another typical morning for Y/N, to get a cup of coffee and wait for her boyfriend. Nothing more and nothing less. Well...her boyfriend was someone that everyone knew and the same goes for herself. No one in the public knew that the famous actress; L/N Y/N, was in a relationship with Kim Taehyung of Bts for four years. A secret love that was in the hands of those who were close to them and that's how it's going to be until the time is right to come out.

She whipped her head towards the door and a smile appeared under her mask when she saw her boyfriend coming in with his black coat hiding who he was. Of course, she knew it was him, she bought him that coat on their second anniversary. She had the matching one but she kept it in a special place with her other special gifts from him.

She stood up in excitement and quickly made her way towards him. He glanced towards the sudden footsteps and smiled under his mask. She wrapped her arm around his, causing him to snicker at her clinginess, “You look extra mysterious today, love.”

Taehyung let out a small laugh and glanced at his jacket, “You said you wanted me to dress up like Sherlock. I hope I did him justice.”

She gently picked up the material and smiled, “My favorite detective.”

He entwined their fingers together and walked back towards her table, “Speaking of detective...”

She rolled her eyes at this and looked away from his small smirk, “It’s just another acting gig...”

He rubbed her knuckles and kissed the top of her head, “It’s not just another gig. It’s a Netflix show, that’s incredible. I’m proud of you.”

“I’m just nervous because I’m working with people who have had more experience than me.”

They sat back at the table and he placed his hand on top of hers on the table, “I think it's exciting. Tell me about it.”

“It’s called Human Touch...I play the female lead who falls in love with the arrogant detective.”

He continued to rub her knuckles and nodded his head, “That sounds like all the books you read.”

She felt her face get hot under the mask and she pouted under the mask, “Don’t tease me. Are we still having lunch?”

“Yeah, but the restaurant we want to go to is closed today. Want to go to Jin’s?”

“Ohh, that’s free food. Let’s go!~”

Y/N and Taehyung are the friends-to-lovers story that everyone loves to read. She was Hoseok’s best friend from high school and after not seeing each other in years, Hoseok begged her to come to a concert near where she lived at the time. She just finished her second drama and her name was trending online but that didn’t mean anything to her. She was still a rookie with a famous friend. She didn’t want to be seen as a social climber. Hoseok didn’t really care about that and she finally accepted after he got his sister to ask her to come.

She entered the dressing room and looked around with wide and curious eyes. The room wasn’t what she was expecting. Honestly, she had no idea what to expect. The room was so large that it should be considered to be a living room. There were couches that were calling out her name but she knew how expensive they were. She didn’t want to get them dirty.

She glanced down at her backstage pass and took a deep breath. BTS was on a whole new level of fame. She worked with famous actors/actresses but this is so different. They were known around the world and were loved by almost everyone. It made this meeting even more nerve-wracking for her.

“Are you Hoseok-hyung’s friend?”

She turned her head and she was met with brown eyes that were really close to her own. She jumped back and tilted her head at him, “Y-Yes. Who’s asking?”

“I’m Taehyung. I just wanted to meet the person that Hoseok spent a week talking about.”

She swallowed her spit and wiped her hand on her jeans, “I hope it was good things...he knows too much about me.”

Taehyung let out a small laugh and nodded his head, “It was all good things which is why I wanted to meet you.”

“I’m nothing special.”

He shook his head and gently tapped the middle of her forehead causing her to blink in confusion, “You are special. Don’t forget that.”

She felt her face warm and a small smile formed, “The only special one here is you, Kim Taehyung.”

“I see you as someone special, L/N Y/N.”

Asking her out was the hardest thing that Taehyung encountered. He had never met someone that made him so nervous before. She was different but at the same time, she was something so familiar. They both liked to recreate their first date once in a while when they weren’t too busy with work. It was special for them.

Y/N was finishing up cleaning the kitchen when she heard a knock on the door. She raised her eyebrow in confusion, she wasn’t expecting anyone tonight. She walked towards the door and looked through the small hole.

“What the?”

She opened the door and tilted her head, “Jungkook?”

“I have a surprise for you.”

She glanced at the clock and then back at him, “It’s literally ten at night.”

“Trust me.”

She rolled her eyes and nodded her head, “Fine, you're lucky I like you.”

What she thought was going to be a quick surprise turned into an hour's drive. She fell asleep in the car as Jungkook held in his laugh when he saw the drool going down her face. He gently shook her and she let out a small groan, “We’re here.”

She rubbed her eyes and looked around with a confused look, “Are we near the mountains?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh my god, are you killing me?”

Jungkook gave her a confused look and shook his head, “What? No, why would you think that?”

“It’s night time and we’re by the mountains where no one can hear me scream.”

“Fair…Taehyung is waiting for you by the entrance.”

She raised her eyebrow at this and glanced through the glass, “He’s waiting for me?”

“Yeah, hurry up.”

She walked towards the entrance and raised her eyebrow when she saw Taehyung leaning against the entrance sign, “Tae?”

He immediately stood up straight and gave her a boxy smile, “Y-Your here?”

“Yes?”

“He was supposed to text me…never mind that.” He leaned down and took something behind the sign. Her eyes widened at the bright roses and her mouth dropped, “Tae?”

“You said you always wanted red roses and to watch the stars.”

she glanced at the roses and then at him, “I did…you remember that?”

“I always remember what you say.”

She took the roses and smiled at them, “What does this mean?”

“I want you to be my shooting star. Will you be my star?”

It was the start of something but Y/N never thought Taehyung would see her as more. Now after four years, she’s become more confident with herself and her career. It took a long time but here she was standing strong with a smile on her face and the love of her life supporting her.

Taehyung opened the door for her and the smell of food hit her with full force. She turned towards Taehyung pulling her mask down, “I’m so excited for this. You have no idea.”

He chuckled at this and gently tapped the middle of her forehead, “It’s because you didn’t eat all day.”

She pouted at this and pulled her mask up, “Leave me alone. Let’s go eat.”

“Drinking coffee isn’t food, Y/N.”

“Then feeeeddd mee.”

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

Taehyung was in his studio typing away when the door opened. He leaned back in his chair and raised his eyebrow when he saw Jungkook panting heavily, “What happened to you?”

“Jaehyun told me something interesting.”

“How does that involve me?”

Jungkook rolled his eyes and pulled out his phone from his pocket. Taehyung continued to watch him with confused eyes, It’s eight in the morning? What could happen this early? He was met with a bright screen and he squinted his eyes at the screen to read whatever it was; NCT Jaehyun stars in a new drama with L/N Y/N. Human Touch is the highly anticipated show after the Webtoon finished in January causing fans to demand a drama. The director said it will come out somewhere between November or December making it the perfect drama for fall or winter.

Taehyung smiled at this and looked up at Jungkook, “That’s exciting.”

“I know, Jae said it took a while for SM to accept it but he was glad he got it.”

“Did he read the comic?”

Jungkook shrugged his shoulders and put his phone back in his pocket, “He said he always wanted to work with Y/N. He really admires her.”

He raised his eyebrow at this but quickly shook the uneasiness, “I’m excited for Y/N. She didn’t think she would get the part.”

“I can’t wait to watch Noona on the screen.”

“CUT! You did a good job L/N!”

Y/N smiled at this and bowed at the director. It was another day that she had to film a commercial for a lip product that turned into a photoshoot and shoot. Two for one deal. Her manager walked towards her with a smile, “I have big news.”

Y/N took a sip of her water and raised her eyebrow, “Oh?”

“Jaehyun is officially part of the cast.”

Y/N’s eyes widened at this and she placed her water on the table, “Really? That’s great. I feel like he would play the role so well.”

“With your help, SM finally accepted it.”

“That’s really exciting.” She felt her phone vibrant in her pocket and she took it out. She smiled when she saw it was Taehyung texting her, I saw the article. I’m so proud of you, love.

“There’s going to be a quick meeting regarding the drama at four this evening.”

Y/N put her phone back in her pocket and nodded at her manager, “Okay, is it with the full case? That’s really fast.”

“The director wants to meet with the two leads, that’s it.”

Y/N nodded her head and glanced at the director for her photoshoot, “I don’t have a problem. I think we're done taking the pictures.”

“I’ll go speak to the director. You wait here.”

She watched her manager go towards the director when she felt another buzz in her pocket. She took her phone out and let out a small laugh when she read the text, Why haven’t you messaged me back? :(

I’m sorry, I was talking to my manager. I’m going to meet Jaehyun today with the director. I’m really excited to meet with him, I begged for the director to get him on this project after watching his audition tape.

Oh? You asked for him?

It was between Jaehyun and Kyung-soo.

Those are good choices...Are we still up for tonight?

Of course, we are!

Taehyung placed his phone on his desk as he stared at his computer screen. She asked for him specifically? Why do I feel weird about this? He shook his head and sat up straight in his computer chair, “It’s probably nothing.”

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

She opened the door to see Taehyung on the couch sitting with Yeontan. She raised her eyebrow at this and pouted, “Tae.”

He turned his head and smiled at her from the couch, “Hey baby.”

This was weird. He usually waited by the door for her but she shrugged her shoulders and set her stuff in their right places, “You didn’t pick up when I called.”

“Sorry, I just got out of a meeting. I didn’t look at my phone.”

That was weird, part two. He always checked his phone but she let it slide because she knew he was busy with his music. She nodded her head and walked towards him with her slippers echoing through the apartment. She sat next to him and leaned her head against his arm, “The meeting went well. Jaehyun is perfect for this role.”

Taehyung nodded his head and kissed the top of her head, “I’m happy for you. What do you want for dinner?”

“Oh, Jaehyun bought me some food after the meeting. I’m okay.”

Taehyung nodded his head but he had a sharp look that Y/N didn’t notice, “What did he get you?”

“He got me japchae and yook hwei.”

How did he know that was her favorite? “Oh, that’s your favorite. That’s good he got that for you.”

“It was really sweet of him to do that. He wanted to show he was grateful for me.”

Taehyung swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded his head, “For?”

“Basically telling SM to give him this role. It wasn’t easy but we won at the end of the day. I’m just glad the show is going to be so good with him on the team.”

Why is she so excited for him? “I’m glad...”

Act II [ Green Eyed]

‘There is no greater glory than love, nor any greater punishment than jealousy.’ - Lope De Vega

“Baek-hyeon, I-I-”

He rolled his eyes and turned towards Aera with an annoyed look, “You don’t believe in me? Why?”

Aera shook her head at this, “I do believe in you-”

“Then act like it.”

Aera took a step back and looked away from him. She couldn’t see the anger in his eyes, “I’m just scared for you. It’s dangerous for you.”

“I’m a detective. This is what I do.”

“CUT!”

Y/N turned towards the director and pouted, “What’s wrong?”

“The lighting made a glare in the lens. We need to re-do the scene.”

Y/N nodded her head and turned towards Jaehyun with a smile, “You did really well. I think you need to be more assertive when you say I’m a detective. It would sound better.”

“You think so? I don’t want them to hate him.”

“His personality is arrogant and he’s somewhat cold. It’s going to show good character development later on.”

Jaehyun nodded his head at her and put his fingers under his chin, “Ah, I see. I’ll make notes. Thanks.”

She watched him go to his chair as she went towards her dressing room. Even though this morning was productive, it wasn’t a good one. Taehyung left without saying goodbye to her but he texted her saying he had a surprise morning meeting. He always said goodbye to her, no matter what.

She sat in her dressing room and clicked on the person she wanted to FaceTime with, “Hey you.”

Kim Sejeong repositioned her camera and waved at her, “Hey, how’s filming?”

Y/N leaned back in her chair and smiled, “It was good. We got half of the first episode done.”

Sejeong raised her eyebrow at her tone, “What’s wrong?”

Y/N sighed and shook her head, “I think I’m overthinking.”

“You tend to do that. What’s wrong?”

“Taehyung, he didn’t say goodbye to me this morning. He always kisses the top of my head but he didn’t do it this time.”

“Did he text you?”

Y/N pouted and nodded her head, “He did…you think I’m overthinking?”

“It depends. What did the text say?”

“Sorry, I didn’t kiss you. I had a surprise meeting.”

Sejeong raised her eyebrow at this, “Is that all he said?”

“Yeah, he didn’t send his usual heart emoji to me.”

“Maybe he’s busy. It was a surprise meeting.”

Y/N nodded her head, “Maybe. The past two weeks have been crazy. I’ve been filming non-stop and it feels like I barely see him.”

“Try and squeeze him in there. Tell him you love him more.”

There was a knock on the door and she glanced at the dark wood, “Y/N, the director is ready.”

She glanced back at her phone and waved at Sejeong, “I gotta go. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Talk to you later. Fighting!”

Taehyung sat in the practice room with a blank expression. Y/N has been so busy with filming that she’s barely had time with her. He understood but she was spending so much time with Jaehyun that he was becoming a second thought. He knows how it is, filming and all that. Logically he understands but emotionally he doesn’t. That was the frustrating part. He knew it was stupid to feel like this but he couldn’t help it.

The door opened and Jimin raised his eyebrow to see Taehyung sitting on the ground. He set his stuff on the floor and made his way to him. Taehyung was in such deep thought that he didn’t even notice Jimin sitting next to him.

“You good?”

Taehyung jumped and turned to see Jimin’s concerned eyes, “You scared me.”

“I didn’t mean to. You look like you got stuff on your mind.”

“I do.”

“You want to talk about it?”

Taehyung sat there for a minute and thought about it. If he told Jimin then he would suggest talking to Y/N and he really didn’t want to do that. He didn’t want Y/N to know how he was feeling because it was wrong for him to feel like that. She has never felt jealous with all the dating rumors he got with other girls. He couldn’t tell her that he was jealous because of this. It didn’t make sense to feel that way.

“No, it’s just something stupid.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure. Don’t worry.”

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

Y/N and Taehyung were on a date and Y/N planned the whole day. After talking with Sejeong, she decided that on her next day off she was going to spend the whole day with Taehyung. She was going to do everything they like to do together today. It’s been about a month since they really had a date, a real date. They had quick lunches but she didn’t consider those to be dates,

She’s also noticed that Taehyung has been acting differently. At first, she thought she was overthinking but now she knew it wasn’t her mind playing games. There was something wrong with him. She kinda figured that it was because she wasn’t really talking to him or spending time with him. It was her fault that there was miscommunication and she wanted to say sorry for it.

They walked in the private park near their apartment and she planned to have a simple picnic. It was a nice day, the sun was out after a long week of rain. It was finally sunny, it was a sign from the universe to fix their problem.

They sat near the small pound and she took out all of the sandwiches that she made for the day. She sent the last drink and looked at him with a smile, “I made all your favorites. They ran out of your tea so I got the lemonade you like. Is that okay?”

Taehyung picked up a sandwich and nodded his head, “It’s fine.”

She smiled at this and looked across the pond, “It’s a nice day. I’m glad I get to spend the day with you.”

“I am too.”

She looked back at him and she frowned a little, “I’m sorry that I haven’t really been talking to you that much. I feel bad...I noticed that you haven’t really talked to me. I’m sorry that I only noticed until a couple of days ago.”

Taehyung stopped eating and stared at the pink blanket. I made her feel like this? It’s so stupid that I feel like this. It’s not worth making her sad. He put down the sandwich and looked at her with a small smile, “It’s my fault too. I have a phone, I know how to use it. Don’t apologize.”

She placed her hand on top of his and shook her head, “You always text me first. I should’ve texted you first. I wanted this date to be perfect.”

Taehyung gave her a small smile and leaned forward placing a quick kiss on her lips, “It is perfect.”

Right before she could say something, her phone buzzed. She picked her phone up and unlocked it to see Jaehyun texted her, I was wondering if tonight we can practice our lines together. I’m having a hard time with this upcoming scene

Of course, we can. Is it the ice skating scene?

Yeah, I don’t know how to express his feelings and I can’t land my lines

Don’t worry I’ll help you. Is seven good?

That’s perfect, thanks

No problem

Y/N put her phone back and she smiled at him, “I’m just glad I can spend time with you. I missed you.”

“Who was that?”

She raised her eyebrow and glanced at her phone then back at him, “It was just Jaehyun. He needed help with a scene.”

Taehyung felt his chest tighten. That was the second time that Jaehyun asked for help. He knew acting was hard but to ask for help constantly from her, that’s weird. Well to him. Logically it makes sense to ask for help but he didn’t want it to be her. He took a bit from his sandwich and nodded his head, “How’s it going with filming?”

Y/N took a sip of her lemonade and smiled, “It’s been so good. All the scenes look really good and I’m so excited for you to see the final product. I worked really hard.”

“I know you’ve been working hard. I’m proud of you.”

“Thank you, baby.

He tried his best to smile but it was really hard especially when his chest hurts, “How’s Jaehyun?”

“He’s been working really hard. This is his first real acting gig and he’s improving with each shoot. I knew he was the perfect choice.”

Perfect choice....”I’m glad..”

“Tae, are you okay?

“I am. Why?”

She tilted her head and frowned at him, “There’s something on your mind...I can tell. You can tell me anything.”

This has nothing to do with you...It’s my own dumb thoughts. He leaned towards her and placed a kiss on her forehead, “I’m just stressed about work. That’s all.”

“I’ll yell at Namjoon for making you work so much. You need a break.”

My brain needs a break from everything. “You need a break too, baby.”

“Let’s watch our anime today and just watch the clouds. That would be perfect.”

“It will be, love.”

They laid back and watched the romance anime that they started together. It was a cute anime, a simple school anime but nevertheless, they loved it. Taehyung glanced at Y/N who was snuggling up into his side. She was so beautiful, especially in moments like this. He turned his attention back to the screen and his smile disappeared. He watched the female lead kiss another guy for a play they were holding. He watched the male lead leave the stage and he couldn’t help but feel seen at that moment. It was silly to find an anime to resonate with you.

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

She sighed at the phone and tossed it onto her table. It’s been two months and Taehyung is acting worse now. He barely texted her and when they were in the same room he barely talked to her. She knew she was lacking on her half of the chorus and she knew that all her reasons were sounding like excuses now. She didn’t want Taehyung to feel like she was taking advantage of him. That was the last thing she wanted him to feel.

She walked out of her dressing room and entered the meeting room. She bowed to everyone and sat next to Jaehyun with a smile on her face, “Do you know what this meeting is for?”

Jaehyun shrugged his shoulders and took a sip of his water, “I heard it’s about a scene.”

“Scene?”

The director let out a small cough and smiled at everyone, “The next scene is going to be a tough one. Jaehyun, you will have a stunt double jumping off a building while it’s raining. The scene itself is Baek-hyeon and Aera’s first kiss. Aera will kiss Baek-hyeon out of panic for his safety but Baek-hyeon will not acknowledge it because he knows it was out of panic. This scene is going to show Aera finally accepting her feelings towards Baek-hyeon. Today let’s take a break and come back tomorrow for this scene.”

Y/N smiled at this and looked at Jaehyun, “Your first stunt double. That’s exciting.”

“It is. I like the story so far.”

“I do too. You want to get lunch?”

“Lunch sounds good.”

They stood up and bowed to everyone as they made their way out of the office. Jaehyun opened the door for her and they headed towards a restaurant right across their building. They talked about random things, Jaehyun told her about his solo album that he was working on but he had no idea when it was going to come out. She told him that after this drama, she is going to take a small break and focus on her personal life.

They sat together and clinked their beer bottles together, “Baek-hyeon!”

“Aera!~”

She let out a small laugh and took her phone out to send a text to Taehyung, I’m eating with Jaehyun! I’ll be home in an hour. I love you.

Be safe. Love u.

Taehyung stood in his bedroom and frowned at himself. This was the second dinner that Y/N missed. He knew it was his fault for not voicing his feelings but what was he supposed to say to her? “Stop hanging out with Jaehyun because I feel insecure.” That sounded ridiculous because he had no right to be insecure with their relationship. He had everything he could ask for. An apartment, a dog he loves, a girlfriend that he wants to marry someday, and a job that will help his family for the rest of his life. What more can he ask for?

He got up and decided to take a quick walk around the neighborhood. The fresh air can help him clear his mind. He put the leash on Yeontan and locked up his house. The walk was nice. There was a light wind that put him at ease and the smell of the flowers made him think of Y/N. It was truly relaxing.

Y/N let out a laugh and leaned back in her chair, “I would love to meet Mark. I think I would get along with him.”

“I think so too.”

She took the final sip of her beer and smiled, “I think I’m done for the night.”

“Let me get you a ride.”

Y/N shook her head and took her phone out, “I’ll do it. Don’t worry.”

“No, let me. I want to make sure you get home safe.”

“Fine, I’ll pay for your food next time.”

Jaehyun smiled at this and took his jacket off of his chair, “Perfect.”

Jaehyun waited for the car and opened the door for her and waved at her, “Have a good night. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Thank you, Jae. Get home safely.”

“I will.”

Y/N leaned her head against the glass and let out a deep sigh. She was feeling better after going out and having fun. She didn’t think about her stress at home and was finally able to clear her mind. Maybe now she could tell Taehyung how much she missed him. She rushed her way into the building and she was so excited to see him that she didn’t notice her hair tie falling out of her hair. She opened the door and she smiled when she saw Taehyung in the living room holding Yeontan in his arms.

She rushed towards him and wrapped her arms around his waist causing him to jump at the sudden action. He set Yeontan down and turned around to see Y/N already looking at him, “Y/N?”

“I missed you.”

He smiled to himself and kissed the top of her head, “I missed you more.”

“I have the rest of the night off.”

“You want to relax?”

“Can we have a bath? We’ve been so busy and I just want to be in your arms.”

He felt warmth spread through his body and wrapped his arms around her waist, “I’ll hold you.”

Something within him changed and she felt his tight grip on her ass as he pushed her against the wall near the bathroom. He tasted the alcohol but he ignored it because all he saw was her, “T-Tae.”

She gasped against his lips but hearing her say his name made his mind blinded with the need of her. His grip only tightened as he ground his hips against hers, “Y/N.”

“C-Can’t we go to the bedroom?”

“No.” He muttered, lips moving down her neck with his teeth scraping over her collarbone, “I need you now.”

He dragged her back to the couch with his hands already ripping off her clothes as he pushed her down into the cushions. The look in his eyes was something that she missed. It’s been a while since they had sex. It was due to their crazy work schedule but that all changes tonight, “I missed you.”

He yanked off his shirt and smiled down at her, “Missed you more.” His hands traced every curve of her body, squeezing her thighs, and his rough fingers brushing over her nipples. He kissed down to her stomach and spread open her legs to get what he wanted. Her clit in his mouth, sucking on it like he was dying. The way he worked his tongue made sure she remembered what it was like to be with him.

He stood up and cussed under his breath, “Let me get a condom.”

“I-I’ll be here...”

She watched him leave and she couldn’t help but laugh. She propped herself up on the couch with her on all fours waiting for him. When he entered back, he couldn’t help the smirk appearing. He slid the condom on and rubbed her back, “Good girl.”

“Tae, I need you.”

He didn’t bother with responding and pushed himself into her. He felt her pussy clenched around his cock and he couldn’t help but let out a groan, “I’m the only one that makes you feel like this.”

“O-Only you.”

“It’s always going to be me.”

He let out another groan, sliding deeper into her. He missed this. Her in his arms and just loving each other. It was his fault but maybe the feelings will go away now that they're together. He looked down at her and seeing her whimper just made him feel his heart swell. He rubbed her hips gently as he continued to thrust into her. Her breath caught in her throat and a breathy gasp escaped.

She spasmed around him and she felt her body shiver at the feeling. Taehyung put two fingers in her mouth and she would never deny him. He brought the fingers down to her clit, making her back arched. He felt himself release into the condom and he leaned down kissing her neck. They pressed their forehead together and he kissed her lips, “I love you.”

“I love you more. So much more, Y/N.”

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

“Taehyung, are you going to watch me film?”

Taehyung smiled at her and nodded his head, “You watched me film for my music video. I need to do the same with you now.”

Y/N smiled and nodded her head as she put her jacket on, “I’m excited. It’s one of the final scenes.”

Taehyung put on his shoes and nodded his head, “Oh, what’s the scene?”

“Baek-hyeon and Aera kiss but they're not together yet. It’s just her realizing that she liked him.”

“You're going to kiss Jaehyun today?”

She turned towards him and nodded her head, “Yeah, it’s our first kissing scene and I’m hoping it’s a one-take.”

Taehyung nodded his head and ran his fingers through his hair, “I’m hoping that too...”

She raised her eyebrow and tilted her head, “What was that?”

“Nothing, just having a hard time putting my shoes on.”

They got into his car and he couldn’t focus on anything she was talking about. He kept picturing her kissing Jaehyun. He knew it was for a show but seeing her kiss Jaehyun was different. She wanted Jaehyun on this project and he couldn’t let that go. She was so excited for him to be on this, how was going to focus?

“Tae, are you okay?”

He parked the car and turned towards her with a small smile, “I’m okay. Are you ready?”

“Always.”

He sat in the background and he saw the chemistry that she had with Jaehyun. He felt his chest tighten when he saw Jaehyun pushing some hair back, touching her face gently. He watched Y/N wrap her arms around his neck and brought him into a kiss. The kiss was like their first kiss, shocking but passionate. He hated it.

“CUT! ONE MORE TAKE!”

This was going to kill him. He knows it. He leaned more into the chair and tried his best to ignore the kissing scene but he couldn’t help it. His eyes always moved up from his phone and watched Y/N kiss him. Over and over again.

It's been a rule, if you date an actor or actress you have to be strong. Especially when you see them kissing another for their new drama. Why is it so hard to be strong?

Final Act [ Don’t Leave Me Please ]

“Now my forever’s falling down’ - V, Sweet Night

It was the early morning, the streets were still empty as the sun gently entered the buildings waking everyone up from their deep sleep. Y/N slowly opened her eyes when she heard a cabinet close from the bathroom. She let out a small groan and turned towards the clock on her nightstand, 07:35 am. She ran her hand through her messy hair as she let a deep sigh out. Today was supposed to be her day off, and so was Taehyung’s but it seems like things have changed.

How is he?

She looked up from the text and stared at the wall with a hard look. It was a simple question that had a complex answer. An answer that she doesn’t have, which made things harder.

I don’t know...he hasn’t really talked to me since our conversation.

Give him some time.

Taehyung stared at the mirror with a hard look. He didn’t get much sleep last night, who would? Seeing the person you love cry because of your own foolishness could keep anyone up. That’s what made things so hard, especially right now. He glanced down at the sink as he closed his eyes and the scene replayed right before him.

He placed his hand on top of her knee and produced the best fake smile that he could muster, "I'm sorry love. I've been so tired."

Y/N glanced at his hand and then at his face, "Is that the truth?"

No..."Yes, let's go have dinner. I'm sorry I made you cry."

"Tae, just talk to me, please. I don't want to be left in the dark."

What kind of man am I? "You won't be in the dark."

I'll solve this for us, Y/N. Don't worry about my own foolishness. I'll become better for us.

He quickly snapped out of his thoughts when there was a knock at the door, “Baby, you’ve been in there for a long time...is everything okay?”

His fingers gripped the countertop and let out a small cough, “I’m okay...I’ll be out in a few minutes.”

“I’ll start breakfast...”

Taehyung has been like this for weeks now. Ever since the kiss, she knew something was really wrong. Not even his members could answer her and that’s what made everything so frustrating. No one knew what was wrong with him.

She was home now, filming was over with and she thought things would change but nothing. Taehyung was still acting like she wasn’t there. The next month would be when she would go overseas for the next episodes and she wouldn't see him. She needed to settle this now before things got worse.

Taehyung entered the kitchen and she sighed at his aura. She turned towards him with her arms crossed, “Tae, Jae invited us to his concert tonight. I was thinking-”

“I don’t want to go.”

Y/N frowned at this and shook her head at this, “Why? It would be a good date-”

“I just don’t want to go. You can have fun with Jaehyun.”

She rolled her eyes and took her breakfast, “Fine.”

He watched her leave the kitchen and he couldn’t help but feel like shit. He continued to make her upset but she was doing this for her. If he didn’t see Jaehyun then he wouldn’t feel the way he does. It would benefit the both of them but he couldn’t tell her this. He didn’t want to explain how he felt. It was hard for him to understand, he still didn’t understand how he felt or maybe he did but he didn’t want to voice it. He looked down at his food and felt sick to his stomach, he kept fucking up and he hated himself for that.

She ate in the living room and ignored him sitting next to her. She was just focusing on her phone and she texted Sejeong again. He doesn’t want to go to the concert with me.

Y/N...have you ever considered that he could be jealous?

What? Why would he be jealous?

Just think about it.

She glanced up from her phone and then at him, jealous? Why would Taehyung be jealous?

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

The concert was amazing, she was finally going to meet NCT and she was so excited to do so. She was upset that Taehyung wasn’t with her but she tried her best to ignore that. She walked towards backstage and waved her hand at Jaehyun with excitement. She gave him a friendly hug and patted his back, “You were amazing out there.”

“Thanks, Y/N, it means a lot. Did Taehyung not come?”

She frowned and shook her head, “He didn’t want to come.”

“I’m sorry Y/N. I thought this concert would bring you two together...not push you further apart.”

“What do you mean?”

Jaehyun let out a small chuckle and shook his head, “You don’t see it?”

“I don’t understand.”

“Y/N, Taehyung is jealous.”

She let out a small laugh and rolled her eyes, “He can’t be-”

“Why? Why can’t he feel jealous?”

Y/N furrowed her eyebrows at him, “He’s never jealous. I tried making him jealous before we started dating and he never showed me signs.”

“He probably was jealous and never showed you...I would be jealous if I saw my girlfriend kiss another guy in front of me.”

“But he knows this is my job.”

Jaehyun shook his head at this, “It doesn’t matter. You can’t stop the heart.”

Y/N looked down at the ground and then back at Jaehyun with a guilty face, “Oh my god...I noticed that he was acting differently but I always assumed it was because of me...I thought it was because I was working so much.”

“This is why you guys talk to each other. You can solve a lot of problems by talking.”

Y/N let out a frustrated groan and shook her head, “Shut up, I don’t need this right now. I’m going home to fix it.”

“Tell him I said hi.”

She ignored him and made her way out of the arena. She didn’t even realize how fast she was walking until she bumped into someone. She looked up to say sorry but her eyes widened when she saw who it was, “Taehyung?”

“I’m sorry I didn’t come with you. I was acting childish for not speaking up when something was wrong.”

She shook her head and wrapped her arms around his waist, “No, I’m stupid because I noticed something was wrong but I didn’t do anything to fix it.”

“No, I didn’t voice anything to you. I’m sorry I made you feel that way.”

She was about to disagree but Taehyung brought her into a kiss, a sweet quick kiss. He put their foreheads together and smiled, “I’ll tell you more when we get home but I just needed to kiss you.”

“I liked it...Jaehyun told me you were jealous. Before we go, can you tell me.”

Taehyung sighed and glanced at the wall with a guilty look, “Yeah...I was jealous. I’ll tell you more at home.”

She nodded her head and made their way to his car, hand in hand. For the first time, they didn’t care if they were seen. The car ride was quiet as he moved his way in and out of the busy streets. She sat down on their couch and she looked up at him with eyes that made him feel safe. He ran his fingers through his hair and turned back at her, “I talked to Yoongi...”

“Oh? When?”

“When you left...”

Taehyung sighed to himself as he sat back on his bed. He felt guilty but he couldn’t see Y/N cheer for Jaehyun. It was too much for him. He grabbed his phone and dialed the person that always helped him, “Hello?”

“Hyung, I need help.”

Yoongi sighed into his phone, “Is everything okay? Did you do something stupid again-”

“I’m jealous of Jaehyun.”

“Wait, you're jealous?”

Taehyung sighed and laid on the bed looking up at the ceiling with a blank face, “I’m jealous of seeing him with Y/N. It’s so stupid because I know it’s her job and all this-”

“Tae, you can’t control how you feel. It happens.”

“I never feel like this. I shouldn’t be jealous, I have everything I could ever ask for.”

Yoongi sighed again and Taehyung could imagine him shaking his head, “It doesn’t matter what you have, sometimes you can’t help it. It’s okay to feel like that but you have to tell Y/N. I’m going to guess you didn’t tell her.”

Taehyung rubbed his forehead roughly, “No...I was hiding it from her.”

“How long?”

“Four months....”

“Dude, you're stupid. Go talk to her, now. Before I go down there and cut your hair.”

Y/N let out a small laugh and shook her head, “I can see Yoongi say that...Taehyung, why didn’t you tell me?”

“I felt like it was stupid. You were never jealous of what I do and I felt like if I was jealous...it would show you I’m not strong enough.”

Y/N stood up from the couch and stood in front of him. She pushed some hair back and shook her head, “You're strong to me. It makes you stronger when you talk about your feelings.”

“I know that now...It was because you wanted Jaehyun on this project. You were so excited to be in this series that it made me feel...it made me feel jealous that you wanted him. I thought it was because you had feelings for him or something. It’s stupid.”

“Stop saying that, it’s not stupid. It’s how you feel. I wanted Jaehyun because he wanted me to help him with his acting. I also saw how well he acted in his tape and it would be stupid of me to deny him. I’m sorry I made you feel that way.”

“I just wanted to show you that I’m supportive.”

“I already knew that, Tae.”

She leaned up and gave him a quick kiss. He smiled at her and leaned his forehead against hers, “I asked for the next couple of months off so I could go with you to film.”

“Really!?”

He nodded his head and kissed the tip of her nose, “I’ll show you how I’m the supportive boyfriend. Even if I’m jealous sometimes...”

She let out a small laugh and shook her head, “My little jelly bean.”

He rolled his eyes and pushed some hair back, “Please don’t leave me.”

“I would never leave you...ever.”

Epilogue

“I need you like a heart needs a beat” - One Republic

Y/N put her earring in when the dressing room door opened. She turned around and smiled, “You look great.”

Taehyung fixed his tie and smirked at her. He slowly walked up to her and one finger trailed from her cleavage to her chin, “I could say the same.”

She was wearing a black sequin dress that showed off her curves perfectly. Taehyung always went weak when she had bright red lipstick, it made him want to eat her out right there. Y/N pulled his tie to give him a quick kiss, “Are you going to be jealous tonight? You're going to see me kiss Jaehyun on the big screen.”

“Keep teasing me like that and I’ll make the press write an interesting story.”

“What do you mean?”

“Why is Y/N limping?”

She felt her face get hot and she smacked his chest, “You're so annoying.”

“But I’m yours.”

She let out a small laugh and wrapped her arms around his shoulder, “You're all mine. Forever.” As she said this, her ring shined under the dim dressing room light. The press was going to have a field day with that but they didn’t care. This was their universe and we were just living in it.

#bts reactions #bts scenarios #bts imagines #bts jungkook #bts namjoon #bts seokjin #bts taehyung #bts jimin #bts yoongi #bts x reader #bts hosoek #Bts #bts taehyung x reader #taehyung x reader #bts fanfction #bts fanfic

248 notes · View notes

mondaymelon · 1 year ago

Text

— 𝘀𝗼 𝘁𝗲𝗹𝗹 𝗺𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲 𝗺𝗲! ♡

໒꒱ || :feat~ xiao, kazuha, heizou, wanderer x gn!reader:

⤷ a handful of my faves since it’s my birthday!! ♡ (july 27th pspspps send me bday wishes i promise i dont bite)

໒꒱ || ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ (open!) : @manager-of-the-pudding-bank, @iamdedinside, @ilyuu, @achlysis, @swivy123, @solxima, @poweredbyghostadventures, @haliyamori

⤷ how they confess their love to you.♡

Is it really love that XIAO’s feeing? He can’t be sure, especially when he can’t even identify the complicated emotions that are making his heart flutter.

However, there’s no time to sit here pondering and examining, not when his heart longs for you at the very mention of your name, or how he just can’t seem to get the thought of you out of his head. He has to find a way to express what he’s experiencing, and soon, before the three words he dreads to speak escapes his lips against his will.

“I love you.”

You’d think it’d be such an easy task to complete, yet the adeptus grows uneasy at the mere thought of it. Perhaps denying him is the worst possible solution, but what should happen if you grow wary of him? Would you stray from his occasional touch, and fail to meet his eye? Xiao can’t risk finding out, yet by the day his quickened heartbeat seems to be growing all the louder.

“Ah, Xiao.” A faint smile crosses your face as you glimpse the familiar male at his usual spot, standing alone by the balcony railing, his arms crossed over his toned chest. “You wanted to speak to me?”

“Yes,” he speaks slowly, wanting to prolong this moment - to see your warm smile just a fraction longer. “There is something… I must tell you.”

You cock your head, letting out a little laugh upon seeing his troubled expression. “There’s no need to be nervous, go ahead!”

Would there be a need to if you knew what he was to ask of you?

He shakes his head lightly as to clear his meddling thoughts, his hair ruffled from the breeze. “I…I don’t know how to put this, but I-“ His breath catches in his throat, and he forces a swallow. “You’re all I think about, all I dream about. I’d do anything and everything for you. I love you, so please… let me call you mine. I just, I…” Xiao can’t even begin to explain what he’s feeling right now, or give a valid explanation for his actions. His gaze doesn’t miss the shocked expression that flits across your face, his own eyes hesitant to meet yours. But they do, upon hearing the melodic sound of your voice uttering his name.

“Xiao, I… archons, do you know how happy you’ve just made me?” Your words are breathy as you take in a shallow inhale.

He blinks once, and suddenly, you’re in his arms, pressing against him like you never want to let him go.

Warm.

In the pale moonlight, the smile that graces his lips is slight, but catches your attention all the same.

“Perhaps I was made to love you.” ♡

Yes, he’s heard tales of this adoration before, and however unfamiliar, KAZUHA as to convey these feelings before he’s unable to contain them a second longer.

Perhaps that was why he had unconsciously invited you out for a quiet stroll around Guyun Stone Forest, where the Crux was currently anchored. It was an innocent request, but the male did have some ulterior motives in mind - perhaps you’d understand if you read one of the many poems he’s written while thinking about you… lips pressed together in thought, a quill in his dominant hand as the other sat beneath his chin, the dim candlelight illuminating the focused expression on his face, his cheeks just slightly flushed with red…

Ah, but there’s no chance in Celestia that he’d ever show you his works of you. Those words are for him to read, just like what he’ll say to you tonight is for only you to witness.

Kazuha takes you by the hand, his touch warm in the cool night air. His bandaged fingers intertwine with yours, and while you don’t make a move to retract, his grip on you tightens all the same.

“Kazuha? Why’re…” While your companion has always been rather open to displaying his physical touch, he had never been this daring before, to take your hand and not even uttering a word about the manner. Something about his air was different this evening, but it was difficult to put a finger on it, especially with the distracting smile he sent your way that seemed to make your mind go blank.

“Hm? Is there something wrong?” He can’t possibly ask a question with that charming face of his and expect to receive a proper answer. Instead, you just sheepishly tilt your head to where the two of you’s hands meet. At that, he lets out a low chuckle, the gleam in his eyes proving his amusement. He doesn’t know what has given him this amount of confidence, how he’s become bold enough to pull you closer… perhaps it was the sake Beidou offered to him earlier? That’s the only possible explanation.

Gently, like the warm breeze, he lifts your hand, swiftly getting down on a knee as he brushes his velvet lips against your skin.

“Have I made my infatuation towards you apparent yet? I love you.”

The moment seems to pause time, everything, all of it, but you can sense how your lips move despite how you’re still frozen, “I love you too, Kazuha.”

Ah, the way his name rolls of your tongue so naturally sends his heart racing.

“It’s always, always been you.” ♡

As much as he’ll try to deny it, WANDERER, who doesn’t even have a heart to ponder these sensations, knows that what you’re doing to him is something he doesn’t wish to admit.

It’s unfair, really, how easily you’re able to sway his resolve. Every part of you is simply infuriating, from the way you say his name, to the way you gaze at him, it makes his face warm, and seemingly nothing he does is able to prevent that. And it’s strange, how he can still experience these… affections, even with his missing core. If it makes any sense, you bring a sort of humanity to him.

It was a philosophy he had crafted for himself - that there were certain aspects of what made one human, requirements that the puppet had been unable to fulfill. That is, until you appeared, because you made him feel something he didn’t want to confess, and bearing… love… made him like you.

At the same time, it scares him. Love is a foreign concept, if anything, and he’s constantly afraid that he’ll make a mistake that’ll cause you to leave him. He can’t let that happen - he can’t even imagine his life without your warmth now. Ah, but if he told you how he really felt, would that keep you by his side? He’s paranoid, yet desperate for your affection, and a confession seems to be his only solution.

A letter bearing your name arrives at your doorstep, the only evidence of the sender being a small sparrow perched upon the paper, chirping insistently until you had taken the envelope.

Meet me at our usual spot at dusk.

Those seven words are all that’s written on the blue-rimmed parchment, with no signature to identify the individual, yet you let out an amused laugh. There’s only one companion with this amount of audacity, and you can already picture his scowl as he wrote these words.

“Hello?” You tentatively call out his name into the evening air, glancing around yet seeing no sign of him. There’s a great gust of wind, and there he appears, donning his signature ridiculously large hat, the dangling charms on it swaying with the breeze.

“There you are.” Crossing your arms over your chest, you smile. “For a second, I thought you were going to ditch me for the fun of it.” Truthfully, you wouldn’t put it past him.

He ignores the comment. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.”

You’re slightly startled by his suddenly serious tone, but nod along. “Alright…?”

“I like you.”

“…Sorry?” How strange, it seems like today your ears have decided to play tricks on you?

A light scowl makes its way upon his face as he visibly grits his teeth. “Augh, fuck it- I said, I love you, idiot.”

There’s no mistaking the flush that’s descended upon his expression, dusting the tips of his ears and his cheeks. “Uh?” You sound stupid, but that’s the only sound you’re able to utter as you stare at the male in utter shock.

“I’m not repeating myself three times.”

You shake your head, frantic as you can feel your heart rate increasing. “No- I heard you the first time it’s just that- I…” it’s hard to explain what you’re feeling right now, so you don’t, instead wrapping your arms around and pulling the two of you closer.

He seems to melt in your hold.

“I can’t even begin to fathom my life without you, so please, stay by my side.” ♡

(a/n) ive grown old. ive… ripened

994 notes · View notes

cameronspecial · 10 months ago

Text

Let Me Write About You, Angel

Pairing: Frat!Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of Writing About Their Sex Life

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.8K

Summary: Rafe and Y/N finally get to take a class together, but maybe she didn't choose the right class to share with him.

Masterlist

Y/N knew she shouldn’t have let Rafe take an elective with her. She should’ve called it fate when they didn’t get into the same class during the fall semester, but Rafe was very determined to be in the same class as her. She honestly does love being able to spend time with him during class; it’s just that maybe a creative writing class isn’t the best for both of them. Rafe respects her boundaries during class, letting her focus on taking notes and listening to the professor, so that isn’t the problem. No, the problem is that Rafe hates creative writing as a whole. He isn’t great with words and the only topic he wants to write about is his angel. So far he is skating by with his assignments; however, he needs to do decent on his final portfolio to pass the class. Y/N makes it her mission to make sure her boyfriend passes and she is starting to regret it. For the past assignments, she didn’t have time to go over his work before he submitted it, so she was unaware of the recurring theme in all of his work.

Rafe’s eyes bore into her as she read over his work, anxious for what she had to say. He doesn’t care about passing. If he doesn’t pass, he can always let his dad’s money pass hands to change that F into a B. Except this is a little different, Y/N wants him to do well so he wants to do well. Y/N glances over each word and heat starts to build inside of her heart.

I don’t believe in religion,

yet I do believe in Angels.

Because I found mine,

And she is absolutely divine.

I live for her smile.

She makes my life worthwhile.

She stole my heart

Because she is a work of art.

His poem has no structure and isn’t long enough per the assignment requirements. It does rhyme, yet she has to admit it isn’t very good. She is sweetened up by the fact that he chose her as his subject. As she reads the rest of his pieces, she notices how she is his only subject. She finally reads the last piece and looks up at him with a soft smile. “You wrote about me,” she states, flipping through the pages. He nods, “Yeah, you are my muse, Angel. Do you like it?” “It’s really sweet, Rafe. I just don’t know how I feel knowing that you wrote about our sex life for your short story and that our professor is going to mark this,” she explains. He flashes a proud smile, “Yeah, I think I really captured your beauty in that one. I was thinking about reading that one during our last class when we can share our work. Show that guy, who sits in front of us who keeps looking back at you, just how satisfied you are with me.” Y/N’s eyes widen to saucers and she shakes her head. “Rafe, please don’t read this in class. In fact, I think we need to work on some of these pieces because you can’t only write about me,” she begs, turning the stack of papers so he can read her feedback. He frowns, “Come on let me write about you, Angel.”

“You can, but if you want to pass, you have to choose three other topics to talk about. You can choose one piece to keep about me.”

“But I only want to write about you. Plus, I can’t choose because they all have to do with you so I love them all.”

“I know. Maybe we can alter the topic so it is still about me but not as obvious. My favourite is this sudden fiction. Your stream of consciousness is really good and you bring the scene to life with the senses. So let's see what you can write about for your other pieces.”

Rafe nods at his girlfriend’s suggestion. His heart flutters at the thought that she likes one of his works. He takes a second to seriously consider what she says and a light bulb goes off. “How about for the poem, I write about the future family that we can have?” he considers, already writing down the lines he is thinking of. She reads over what he writes and a smile blooms across her face. “That is a great idea. Now, we just need to look at two other topics.”

———

Y/N is studying in the library when Rafe comes rushing to her with his phone in his hand. “Angel, Angel. Look what I got on my portfolio,” he announces. His phone shoots before her eyes and she has to hold his hand to keep it steady. Y/N looks at the screen, reading the B- on display. She claps her hand in celebration and then wraps her arms around his neck. “This is amazing, Rafe. I am so proud of you,” she kisses his cheek. He revels in her pride, “It wasn’t all me, Angel. I have you and your brilliant brain to thank for the help. You make me smarter every single day.” Rafe couldn’t feel more lucky to have such an amazing girlfriend, who helps him grow as a person and succeed.

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @queen-shadow22 @victory-in-the-llama @drewsmusee @starkowswife

363 notes · View notes

gazorninplat · 8 months ago

Text

As much as I love Disco Elysium, I think I was not prepared for Sacred and Terrible Air. Of course, I was expecting to know more about the world of Elysium as a whole, and Robert Kurvitz is a very good writer, but the thesis of the novel (and how it makes its points) flash-banged me.

Disco Elysium this is not, and it wasn’t supposed to be, but I think I can understand better now what the team at ZA/UM was getting at with this specific setting, and these specific narrative angles. Kinda messy, because it’s been a week since I finished it, but here are some things I’d like to highlight:

1. The pedophilia. I surely wasn’t expecting this to be such a central theme of the novel, but a lot of its main points revolve around it. The most interesting use of this, as a narrative device, is how the girlfriend of Jesper basically accuses him of being a pedophile because he cannot relate to the adults around him. He’s still obsessed with a girl he met when he was 13 years old, and fetishizes a scrunchie he stole from her bag two decades ago. Yeah, I guess Jesper, well into his thirties, is still in love with a 13 year old girl. His girlfriend is almost half his age, and they started dating when she was 15 years old and a lingerie model (!). Zigi mentions how pedophilia was a bougie disease, and well… That idea went right into my thought cabinet (I call it “Bougie Babies for Sale).

Still processing it.

Now, let’s go back to the rest of the main characters. With all this in mind, a pedophilic overtone covers their interest in these four missing girls, but Jasper is the only one who acts on it, sort of. Khan remains in a sort of arrested development (he still uses a shirt he had when he was 13), foregoing normal adult relationships, and Tereesz joins the police as an investigator with the idea of still finding them some day (essentially letting these eternally prepubescent girls define his entire existence), leading him to a very dark path. I wonder if the brutality they afford to the “actual” pedophiles in the story (Vidkun Hird and the Linoleum Salesman) comes from the realization that they are not that different?

2. Obviously, though, this fetishization of the Lund sisters is also a fetishization of the past. The novel states it in the first few pages; they disappeared twenty years ago, in a time that most conservative people remember as the “good old days”. Basically their version of the American Fifties. Now, being obsessed with the past is a running theme in both SaTA and DE, but the angle here is different.

I already said it: the past is not remembered, is fetishized with an almost sexual yearning by a lot of the male characters of the book. They want to be consumed by it (and lucky them! It will) and do nothing more than serve it. It reminds me of a poem by Yamil Nardil Sadek, which, translated to the best of my ability, goes like:

She awaits me

sitting on the bed,

wearing leather,

and armed to the teeth,

the Memory.

Yeah, that sums up Sacred and Terrible Air pretty well. Everyone is being consumed by the past, bite by bite, and enjoying it. Vidkun Hird, by the mythologized version of his tribe’s history; Sarjan Ambartsumjan, by a miniature ship model that requires constant, devoted thought or else it will disappear, the three main characters by the memory of that summer with the Lund girls. Even the Linoleum Salesman is being haunted and consumed, of sorts, by his sickness and dementia that only sometimes let him take a peek of the past. Beyond that, there are very few characters that do not spend time being followed by relentless ghosts. Literally, in the case of Zigi. Which brings me to…

3. The Pale. It was a really cool concept in Disco Elysium, and it’s an existential nightmare in Sacred and Terrible Air. It always was, really. But here it lets you take a look into it in a way that’s applicable in real life. The Pale is a metaphor for many things, but actually for a single one: A world where our current Capitalist reality facilitates both apathy and yearning for better days, often idealized in our collective pasts.

My favorite scene, one that was incredibly puzzling but so obvious in retrospect, is a beautiful speech by the ghost (?) of Ignus Nilsen to Zigi. I will just paste it here:

“I said terrible things, yes! I stood on a white horse, in a blizzard, and gave speeches. In the mountains, on the construction site… I swung my sword, with silver sunbeams on the hilt. And all around me fluttered white flags, crests of crowned horns made with silver thread, a pentagon between the prongs of the horns, the branches raised to heaven. Everyone who came here with me became happy, Zigi! Communism is powerful! Believe in Communism, it’s a burst of enthusiasm! I promise! It’s beautiful when you believe in a person, but without it…!”

“Without it, there is nothing.”

“Nothing. It was a blizzard, but it was bright, it was morning. Communism is white, it sparkles! Communism is the morning, it is a jubilation!”

The Pale begins to recede dangerously around the entroponaut.

The fucking Pale recedes with talk of Communism! At first it might appear a little heavy handed (yeah, Communism, by itself, could save the world). But then I got into how Communism could be a solution to the antipathy and chronic nostalgia that sustain Capitalism, and then it hit me. Nilsen, a literal ghost from the past, is talking about a future that could have been. That he wanted to accomplish. That people, probably, can still achieve. The Pale is not eternal, it can be pushed back. Because the Pale seems to subsist on the past, it abhors any talk of the future. A better future. That’s how we solve things, and for a central thesis, is not bad at all.

With that being said, and because I’m just rambling here while pretending I’m working, there are also some things that I just didn’t understand, but maybe it was because of the translation. The original novel is written in a very poetic style, and some of that is still here, but I still need to untangle…

1. The Man. It is said that the day the Lund girls disappeared, they were joined by a mysterious Man that nobody seemed to remember correctly. A character even suspects that she was remembering wrong. Now, the Pale erases people and memories retroactively, so maybe it had something to do with it, but… Who was that? Is there any theory about that Man, or I just missed something? Some scenes and narrations were tough to parse for me (my primary language is not English).

2. Was Malin Lund pregnant? That flash with the fetus was sudden and weird.

3. What was the significance of the three meat piroshkis? They mention that it was unusual that the girls bought them (and if you do the math, you can realize early on that they were not planning to get back home. That purchase didn’t leave them enough money for the bus fare back), but that’s it. Were they for the Man? Also, the narration mentions that Lund girls’ picnic basket contained “the kind of things girls like to eat”, so maybe they were planning to see the boys and bring them the kind of things boys eat? I’m overthinking that? The chapter actually titled “Three Meat Piroshkis” just left me even more confused.

4. I don’t understand how Khan’s pen works at all. The one he brought to the school reunion. That was the part I re-read the most. Anyway, even with that, I loved Sacred and Terrible Air. Definitely one of the most enthralling reads I had, with or without the background of Disco Elysium. I’d still like an official translation that could potentially solve the issues I had, but for now, a Top 10 Book for me.

Go for it now.

#disco elysium #sacred and terrible air #robert kurvitz #literary analysis #random thoughts #book quotes

350 notes · View notes

silverskye13 · 8 months ago

Note

Helsknight showing up bloody at Welsknight’s base please I need suffering 🙏

There was something to be said about the stupid things he was willing to do in the name of self preservation. Damn his fears, and the unfairness of the universe, and the uncertainty of living [and dying] and everything else. The unknown had always been his greatest weakness, his greatest betrayer. Pity it was also one of the few inescapable things about living in general.

To say Helsknight stepped into Hermitcraft would be a terrible injustice of what stepping normally, let alone gracefully, looked like. What he actually did was stagger and drag himself into Hermitcraft on unsteady and shaking limbs. There were holes in him. He hadn't really taken inventory of them yet. Admitting he had a wound [or several] was enough. The minute he admitted the wounds were bad, in certain terms his mind could comprehend, was the minute shock would steal his senses. He was on Hermitcraft for the specific reason of dodging death, and it seemed to him shock, on any level, meant dying. If he wanted to die and roll the dice of respawn, he would have died in hels, in the alley he'd been jumped in, where he could at least take comfort in familiar cobblestones and the knowledge he'd dragged all his attackers down with him. But he didn't want to die, so he was here.

It was dark. He was inside a building. He was bleeding. Wels was nearby. Those were the only things he needed to know for certain. Helsknight looked around, trying to ignore the sluggish tilt his vision offered when he moved too quickly. The double vision of trying to parse memories of a place that weren't his battled with his wounded animal double vision and together they made him feel nauseous, more so than his wounding already did. Helsknight balled a fist against his sternum, like he could hold himself together that way, and concentrated very hard on walking and nothing else.

Helsknight didn't like being this close to Wels. Not while he was this injured. He could feel the awareness of his other half like a spider on his skin. There was a reflex-like urge to shout and try to shake it off, the instinct-like certainty that if it rested on him long enough it would find a reason to bite him. And he knew, in the way only experience could teach, that if he could feel Wels, Wels could feel him. Helsknight had the sensation of walking a tightrope: his body insisted speed was the only thing that could save him, while his mind insisted he must stay unnoticed. He must balance necessity with making his thoughts and emotions small, and it was hard work to do when he was losing blood.

Helsknight blinked slowly, tiredly. He picked a direction and walked, a hand pressed to the wall, keeping himself upright. Wels's potion room was nearby, a borrowed half-memory informed him, he just had to get there. He searched his drifting thoughts for a poem to repeat in his head, to keep fear and uncertainty from rising. His heartbeat was quickening, a symptom of something; panic, or fear, or blood loss, or all three combined. He was fixing one of those things. He needed to carefully manage the other two, before Wels felt them. The only poem he could think of was in Middle English, and mostly gibberish to him, which told him it came from Wels's memories somewhere.

Why have ye no routhe on my child?

Have routhe on me ful of mourning;

Tak doun o rode my derworth child,

Or prik me o rode with my derling!

[Rhyming child with child was a lazy, but this was written back when one could convincingly spell "down" as "doun" so he supposed he shouldn't be overly critical. The real trick was figuring out if "derling" was supposed to mean "darling", or some other archaic word lost to time. He could only figure out so much from context clues. "Mourning" apparently transcended centuries, and that seemed fitting. Everyone knew mourning, in some form or another.]

An ache opened up beneath his clenched fist, or it had always been there, and his body was only just now reinforcing the fact that it was important. It felt like the mother of all cramps in his muscles, and he stubbornly pretended that's what it was. He needed more potassium in his diet or something, and the gods would forgive him the smear he left on the wall when he leaned on it, waiting on the intensity of his pain to ebb. The doorway he was walking towards seemed close, but also very, very far. Closing distance with it was going a lot slower than he thought it would, and it was only one short hallway. He was glad he'd decided to do this, instead of his other half-considered option of attempting to walk across hels to the Colosseum. He wouldn't have made it.

Dread pooled in his stomach. Dread, and other more physical things, like blood, probably, but he pretended the dread bit was more important. He could feel Wels pricking on his skin again, an insistent spider twitching at a breath on his web. Helsknight breathed out the steadiest breath he could manage.

More pine ne may me ben y-don

Than lete me live in sorwe and shame;

As love me bindëth to my sone,

So let us deyen bothe y-same.

[Sorwe. What medieval idiot thought "sorrow" was spelled like "sorwe"? Maybe it had something to do with inflection. Poetry was half words, half rhythm. Maybe "sorwe" was supposed to indicate they wanted the reader to pronounce "sorrow" as a single syllable, so it sounded more like "sore". That's also probably why "bothe y-same" was sitting there like word vomit. They meant "both the same", but wanted it read without a pause between the first two words. It was really the method for the madness that mattered with poetry.]

Helsknight blinked. He was in the potion room. He couldn't fully remember the walk down the hallway, but that didn't matter. What mattered was there should be health potions in here somewhere, his salvation. Relief edged his vision in stars, and he once again felt Wels's attention cant in his direction, confused and curious. Wels didn't associate feelings of relief with Helsknight. It wasn't an emotion they felt in each other's presence, and it was far too strong to be muffled by the distance to hels.

[He knows I'm here.]

Helsknight opened a chest and rifled through it. His vision was protesting. Stars and tilting that would turn to spinning soon made a clutter of his eyes. It got hard to distinguish the colors of the stoppered bottles. He picked up one that felt overly warm to his cold and shaking fingers. He was pretty sure it was a health potion. It felt too hot, but he reminded himself he was cold from losing blood, so it should feel hot. Hesitantly removed his fist from where it was balled in front of his sternum, and let his eyes unfocus when he grasped the bottle's stopper. His hands were so unsteady, it took a couple tries just to grab it, and when he pulled on the cork, his fingers slipped off weakly. He tried again, eyes closed with concentration, pouring every ounce of his strength into the act of pulling a stopper out of a bottle, only for his hand to slip right off again.

Frustrated, nearing desperate, he looked down at himself for a clean place to wipe his hand on his tunic. It was a mistake. He knew it as soon as he did it. His eyes were inexorably drawn from the fabric to the poke-holes in it, to the wine-dark stain that flowed down his front and still dripped tak-tak-tak slow and inexorable onto the floor. It was a woeful amount of blood. He was honestly surprised he wasn't dead yet. Chalk it up to fortitude, and ignorance, and size. He had more blood to lose than some people did.

Helsknight's world suddenly gave an awful twist, vertigo and the crescendoing, cramping agony of his wounds, only staved off by how his now shattered ignorance, kicking him off his feet just as surely as a horse could. He slumped against the wall, and then to the floor, and the awful jarring of it hurt him worse. Half a dozen other wounds on him aired their grievances, and the big one near his sternum pushed blood onto his fist when he clutched it. Helsknight sat pinned, unable to breathe for many long seconds, feeling a bit like he'd been struck by lightning. The pain was blinding and numbing and overwhelming all at once.

Why-- have no-- have ye no-- something something...

[Words. Breathe. Think of words.]

[Gods... But it hurts......]

Why have ye no routhe on my child?

Have routhe on me ful of mourning;

[And what the hels did "routhe" mean, anyway? He knew the word "route". He knew the name "Ruth". Neither of them fit, unless his bloodless brain was missing something. There was a chance "routhe" was supposed to be read like "bothe", as a double word slurred together, but that still left "routhe the" which made less sense in context than "routhe" did.]

Right. He was supposed to be doing something other than bleeding to death on the floor. Helsknight blinked, looked down at his hand and realized the health potion he'd grabbed was gone. He must have dropped it when he slumped over. Looking around, he spotted it just to the side of his left boot, unbroken, thankfully, but it might as well be a lifetime away for all the good it did him. Helsknight knew without a shadow of a doubt he couldn't reach it. The idea of tensing his muscles and dragging himself forward to reach was exhausting, and he hurt so much he knew the movement would feel like tearing himself in half, and there were just some things a mind couldn't power through. Helsknight laughed dismally and let his head fall onto his chest. Both motions were white hot agonies, but all his pains were starting to blur together into a smear of overwhelming sensation that took thought away. It occurred to him he was breathing too fast, like he'd run too far too fast, and his fluttering heartbeat agreed.

[... It hurts...]

[Gods and saints it hurts.]

[I'm dying.]

A feeling he could only describe as doom fell on his shoulders, a cold grasp of fear that wrapped stony hands around his heart and squeezed. He'd heard of this. Never felt it himself. The utter sureness that if he didn't do something now, he would die. All the unconscious bits in his body in charge of keeping him working all unanimously agreeing they needed divine intervention, preferably right now, before they started shutting down. It wasn't something he often had occasion to feel, though he had heard people tell of it after particularly grizzly matches and bloody tournaments. Death was normally too quick in the Colosseum, or else he'd won his match, and even if he was falling to pieces there was a health potion too close to hand to let him dwell on his harms. This was so terribly different. Death stalked toward him unhurried and unbothered, waiting on him to finish drowning in blood. He might panic, if he wasn't already so cold and scared.

"Ah. This makes some sense, anyway."

Helsknight, who had stopped seeing the world in front of himself without really closing his eyes, refocused his vision on the open doorway. Wels stood there, an angel of death in azure and silver, his sword in his hand. His eyes were the ruthless blue of hels freezing over and lifeless corpses, and Helsknight thought there was no one else in the world he would rather not watch him die. But the universe hated him, so here Wels was, just as surely as if he was fated.

"I didn't think all that fear could possibly be for me."

Helsknight tried to reply, but all he managed was a dying-animal noise that strangled itself out when he tried to breathe a little steadier. He tried again, and this time managed a very weak, but vaguely defiant, "Fuck off."

"Rude," Wels said chastisingly. A glow of something like smug satisfaction prickled Helsknight's skin. The feeling came from Wels. "Especially given I'm the only person who can save you."

Helsknight chuckled, and then stopped when his body seized painfully around the motion. "We both know you don't want to save me."

"No," Wels admitted. "But I don't want to do a lot of unpleasant things I agree to do anyway."

"How... charitable."

"It is a virtue."

"Sure."

Wels didn't move. Well, he did move, but only to sheath his sword. He crossed his arms and leaned against the door frame, the image of patience, as though they had all the time in the world.

[Hungry spider. Waiting on a web for something to struggle.]

"If you're waiting on me to beg," Helsknight informed him through staggering breaths, "I won't."

"Too prideful?"

Helsknight searched himself momentarily for pride, and came up short. Pride would've dictated he die in the alley, instead of here where Wels could lord it over him. This was something different than pride.

"No."

"Then why not?" Wels asked, raising an eyebrow. "It's easy. Just say, 'Welsknight, please give me a health potion'. Or if you're feeling monosyllabic, just 'please' will work."

Helsknight managed a smirk. "Why not help me out of the kindness of your heart?"

"I don't have any kindness for people like you."

[People like you. What a loaded phrase.]

Have ye no routhe on my child?

There was an entire philosophical debate that could happen in the phrase 'people like you' that Helsknight had neither the time or the energy to bother with. Besides, it was all words Wels knew. Wels pretended to be a chivalric knight. Chivalric knights helped the weak. Chivalric knights saved the defenseless. Helsknight, for all the grievances of his existence, was both right now. Then again, the chivalric knights were also supposed to make war against their enemies mercilessly, so he supposed Wels would be in his rights, as a chivalric knight, to walk away and let him die slowly and painfully on the ground.

As if sensing his thoughts, and likely because he could actually sense his thoughts a bit, Wels said, "You are always going on about how I need to be a better knight. There's something ironic here. No matter what I decide, I think you'll owe me an apology regardless."

The feeling of doom, of bone-deep, agonizing dying mantled over Helsknight again and Wels stopped existing to him. His sense of urgency, of desperation to live clawed its way up his throat. He tried to move his arm, his leg. He got his fingers to twitch. He tried to lean forward, to drag himself with willpower alone towards that stupid potion just out of reach. The potion he wasn't even strong enough to open. His vision collapsed in quickly, and he only knew he'd cried out because he was breathless. But he hadn't moved, besides managing to lull his head forward onto his chest again. Cold fear crawled around in his empty guts, a relentless, caged animal that refused to stop squirming.

[I'm dying.]

[Breathe.]

[I'm dying.]

A shadow fell over him, a presence freighted with hate, and deserving, and dissonant guilt. Wels had come forward, only to stop short when Helsknight's terror swept over him like a wave, and he stood baffled by it, and guilty for it. The fool knight probably thought Helsknight was scared of him. If only. Helsknight thought he would prefer that. At least then he could manage to die gracefully. Wels's fortitude bricked itself up against him then, a bitter soul trying to will itself to be cold and cruel, and Helsknight was thankful for it. It staved off his fear, if only a little.

"What did you do to bring this on, anyway?" Wels asked breathlessly, trying to recover his resolve. Looking for a reason to hate him.

"I was... walking home."

"That's it?" He sounded so skeptical, it was almost funny.

"I committed the terrible sin..." Helsknight laughed out a breath, "... of being fearless when I should have been cautious."

"Hubris."

"Habit."

"Yeah right."

"If I got stabbed like this every day, I wouldn't have come crawling here."

Wels glowered, parsing this statement for truth. Helsknight might have mustered some hate in him for it, if he wasn't so scared. His vision had taken on a permanent blur, and he was getting cold. He hadn't gone numb yet, which was something he found profoundly cruel. He wanted to be numb. To stop hurting. To stop fearing.

[Breathe.]

Why have ye no routhe on my child?

Have routhe on me ful of mourning;

Tak doun o rode my derworth child,

Or prik me o rode with my derling!

[Derworth... "Dearworth", probably. Beloved. So "derling" was probably "dearling", which turned into "darling". Middle English was strange. Just slightly to the left of normal. He didn't think "tak" was a word anymore, except where it existed as pieces of words. "Tak" to "take", to take hold, maintain, maybe. "Tak" to "tack" like a nail. "Prik" also, like "pricking" flesh, like a point digging.]

"Hold down the road, my dearworth child," Helsknight muttered. "Or pick me a road with my darling."

"What?"

"Stupid poem."

"How much blood have you lost?"

Helsknight laughed, and his whole body flinched, and for a moment he couldn't breathe because his pain was so alive and electric it almost stopped being pain. The concern from Wels was laughable. He wished Wels would make up his mind about whether or not he cared. Then he could get on with dying, and the terror would stop, and the universe would take him or it wouldn't, and if it didn't, he would respawn and sleep for a week. He felt Wels's hand on his wrist, which was its own kind of hilarious.

"Trying to figure out how many heartbeats I have left?" Helsknight asked.

It would be nice to know. If Wels figured it out, he hoped he would share the information. Then Helsknight could keep count.

"Your heart's too fast."

"That happens."

Wels stood up and paced, all nervous energy, back and forth across the room.

"You don't deserve my help," Wels told him scathingly, angry for how conflicted he felt. "You don't. You've been nothing but cruel ever since we met."

More pine ne may me ben y-don

Than lete me live in sorwe and shame;

["Pine", like pining. Or pain. More pain? Punishment maybe. "Don" to done. Something like: More pain to me could not be done than to let me live in sorrow and shame.]

Helsknight decided whoever wrote this poem had never been stabbed. He'd felt both sorrow and shame, and neither of them packed quite this amount of punch, in his opinion.

"It probably goes against my tenets anyway," Wels continued, still pacing. "And yours too. Aren't you the one who follows some crazy death god?"

"... Saint... of Blood and Steel."

"He probably thinks dying in a puddle on my floor is glorious."

"... they."

As love me bindëth to my sone,

So let us deyen bothe y-same.

[Maybe he was just getting better at this, or maybe this part was just easy. "As love I'm bound to my son, so let us die, both the same." It didn't flow very neatly when it was simpler. Maybe Middle English wasn't that stupid.]

"I can't help but think you did this on purpose to... I don't know. Test me somehow. Prove you're better. Weak again, Welsknight! For helping your enemy when you should have let him die, or speed him along. Don't you know knights are supposed to be cruel?"

Helsknight tried to call up his own tenets, or Wels's tenets, or anything to do with knights and their duties. He got a little lost on his way, his thoughts meandering and dying, and gasping back to life again when they remembered they were supposed to be searching for something. Something he was scared of. Dying. A wave of fear crashing over him that made Wels flinch, and bid Helsknight keep breathing, because any agony was worth not confronting that one, great, crippling unknown.

"What would you do in my place?" Wels asked him suddenly. "Answer me that, perfect knight. What would you do if the person you hated most showed up one day bleeding on your floor?"

That... was an excellent question. Helsknight searched briefly for the answer, and found it wasn't very hard to find.

"I would help."

"You're lying," Wels said guardedly.

"I... can't lie."

"Then you're dodging the truth. What would you do?"

"I would heal you if I could. Or I would kill you if I couldn't." With strength he didn't know he even still had, Helsknight leaned his head back against the wall. It was easier to breathe that way. To talk.

"Why?"

"No creature is deserving of dishonor or pain."

"That's not a tenet."

"It's not a chivalric tenet." Helsknight shrugged one shoulder weakly. "Chivalry states you can hang my guts from the ceiling if I'm your enemy."

"It does not."

"It might as well."

Wels didn't seem to have a ready reply for that.

"What is routhe?"

Wels blinked down at him, guarded and confused. "Routhe?"

"Routhe." Helsknight repeated, as though it were helpful. "Middle English."

"As in?"

"Poetry."

"Use it in a sentence."

"Why have ye no routhe on my child?"

"Ruth." Wels said, a bit too quickly, like he'd known what Helsknight was asking and was trying to avoid the answer. "We don't use it as ruth anymore. It shows up in rue, like regret, or sorrow. And... ruthless."

"Merciless."

"Yes."

Why have you no mercy on my child?

"Why are you asking about Middle English while you're bleeding to death on my floor?"

Helsknight let out a breath. It hurt, but everything did. "Stupid poem."

"Can I hear it?"

"I'm busy bleeding to death on your floor."

"Tell me and I'll heal you."

There it was again, asking for an excuse. That was Wels's real cowardice, his failing as a knight. He was scared of making decisions. Scared of dealing with the consequences of his actions. Paralyzed by indecision. He wanted to hate Helsknight because it was justified. He wanted to watch him suffer, because hatred allows suffering. He didn't want to label himself cruel, nor be accused of weakness, or softheartedness, if he showed mercy. And he didn't want to pick up his sword and kill, if it meant killing someone defenseless. He wanted Helsknight to give him a reason to act, so he could blame it on him later if it turned out wrong. Given it would likely be Helsknight rubbing his nose in it later if it was wrong, he couldn't really blame him for that.

Helsknight closed his eyes and counted his heartbeats, and pretended he wasn't scared.

"Do what you will."

An hour long minute ticked by. Helsknight felt the time moving like it was physical, like he was falling through it and he couldn't catch himself, and he was nearing his limits. He thought the only thing stopping him from begging for it all to stop was the crushing weight of his fatigue, the exponential strength it took to take his next breath, and that stupid poem, skipping in a circle in his head. It kept his thoughts away from his fear, from bearing the weight of the unknown that came next. It was still there, a nameless, formless anxiety that formed the undercurrent of his thoughts. But he didn't have to think about it when he was busy being annoyed about a poem stuck in his head.

Wels moved. He stooped to pick up the potion Helsknight had dropped and unstoppered it deftly. He was surprisingly gentle as he helped him drink, aware that every movement could cause pain. Helsknight could feel Wels's caution in the air like wings, like a bird hovering before it lands. The first potion wasn't enough to heal him completely, so he got a second from his chests and helped him with that as well, one hand hovering over Helsknight's wounds, waiting on the skin to knit back together. Helsknight got to his feet, shaky, and feeling like he'd been wrung dry of all vitality. There was no pain to speak of, but he was thirsty, and hungry, and exhausted.

"You should rest before you go anywhere," Wels said, words of pragmatic care that sounded stilted coming from him. "I can get you some water."

"I'll be fine," Helsknight told him, allowing himself some hesitant pride now that the smothering pain was gone. Even exhausted, he could think so much more clearly now -- think at all, really. And he thought the longer he stayed here, the higher the chance Wels would come to regret his decision to heal him. They were not made to like each other. They didn't even respect each other as enemies. And Helsknight knew if they fought now, he would lose, and he might lose very badly, if Wels decided to leave him to bleed out again. It was something Wels had never done before, but if he could convince himself Helsknight deserved it, he would.

"Do what you will, then," Wels said, bitterness creeping into his tone. He probably thought he was being coy and ironic. Helsknight mostly thought it was annoying.

"The poem isn't mine," Helsknight said. "It's one you've read before. Middle English. Why have ye no routhe on my child. I don't know the title. It might just be the first line. I think it's a lament."

"... I see."

"Next time you find yourself bleeding out on someone's floor," Helsknight snorted, "Pick something stupid like that. It makes things... manageable."

"Right... manageable."

Helsknight gave a helpless sort of shrug, as though what he'd just said were perfectly normal.

Wels mustered an enviable facsimile of concern when he said, "I've never felt terror like that before."

Helsknight felt his already parched mouth somehow go drier. The sympathy he felt rolling off of Welsknight was sickening. Literally. He could feel himself becoming nauseous.

"What are you so scared of?"

Shame, red hot and searing, clawed at the inside of Helsknight's ribs. He wished so badly he could hide it. Distract himself from it. At least turn it into anger. But he was tired, and he didn't know how to bring his emotions back to heel, and Welsknight was already giving him an open, piteous look like maybe they'd stumbled onto something significant. He could feel hope there, like maybe there was a reason they hated each other like they did, and if Wels could figure out where that fear came from, they could find common ground -- or at least the leverage Wels needed to make Helsknight relent.

"I don't need your pity, white knight," Helsknight snarled. "Go sate your savior complex somewhere else."

Wels scowled. A cold wall of loathing, resigned and inevitable, closed itself around anything else he could possibly feel.

[As it should be.]

Hours later, home and safe, Helsknight cracked open his journal and wrote:

Why have you no mercy on my child?

Have mercy on me, so full of mourning;

Take down the road my dearworth child,

O give me a road with my darling!

More pain to me could not be done

Than to let me live in sorrow and shame

As with love I am bound to my son,

So let us die then, both the same.

#Situations Asks #rns asks #anonymous #tw wounds #tw blood #tw dying #tw fear #welsknight #helsknight #[jazzhands] mind the tags she's an intense one!#And also very long #4k words woooo #The poem in Middle English is Why Have Ye No Routhe On My Child #it is supposedly from the 14th century #but i had a very very hard time finding sources for it #so take that with a heavy grain of salt #i will say the middle english -> modern english translation is mine #done using the Chaucer Dictionary from the University of Cambridge #As well as the Oxford Middle English Compendium #take the translation with a grain of salt its one of maybe twice i've done something like this #but i think it stayed decently faithful to the source material #as faithful as someone who sucks at reading Middle English can make a translation anyway #rns ficlet

339 notes · View notes