#like they rarely invade it but it's still something of an issue

[angels444yuri]

cannot put into words how badly i want to move out. love my parents but i don't know how much longer i can go without complete control of my time,,,

[aphroditelovesu]

⸻ The Lost Queen - XVIII ⸻

— summary: You woke up near a military camp without remembering how and why you got there, you didn’t understand why they were dressed like ancient Greeks, all you knew was that you weren’t safe and you needed to get out of that place as soon as possible. Too bad for you that you found yourself attracting unwanted attention from the Macedonian King and he won’t let you go so easily.

— genre: yandere, dark!au.

— warnings: time travel, obsessive and possessive behavior, murder, mention of torture, kidnapping, angst, fluffy (very rarely), dub-con, eventual smut, pregnancy.

— pairing: yandere!alexander the great x female!reader, yandere!generals x female!reader.

— word count: 2,330.

— tag list: @devils-blackrose, @faerykingdom, @hadesnewpersephone, @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 , @kadu-5607, @zoleea-exultant, @borntoexplore11-blog, @silmawensgarden, @elvinapandra, @jennifer0305 , @his0kaswife, @animetye-23.

— the lost queen series masterlist.

Chapter 18

Roxanna felt restless, as if something inside her was in constant conflict. She paced her room, unable to rest, her thoughts racing around a single issue: her impending marriage to Alexander, the foreign conqueror who seemed to be engulfing the world with his ambition.

Her father had been clear. The union was strategic, a calculated move to ensure the survival of his people in the face of the sweeping changes that lay ahead. With Darius’s downfall looking increasingly likely, joining forces with the man who controlled the most feared armies seemed not only sensible, but necessary. ''It is for the good of all,'' he had said, with the grave tone of one who made decisions beyond his own heart. But his words found no echo in hers.

Roxanna tried not to let her panic show, but the reality was suffocating. She knew little of Alexander, only stories she had been told; enough, however, to recognize that he possessed a magnetic presence. His face was striking, almost chiseled, and his eyes shone with an intensity that could both fascinate and intimidate. He was the kind of man who seemed unshakable, but the force that drew crowds to his feet also made her uneasy.

The weight of this choice that was not hers was made even worse by the shadow of another woman. Alexander already had a wife. Roxanna had heard whispers about (Y/N), the so-called Lost Queen. It was a name that soldiers spoke with reverence, almost like a prayer, and it tormented her. (Y/N) was not dead, but missing, possibly captured by the Persians. Despite her absence, her presence seemed to dominate. The adoration that Alexander clearly had for his wife seemed to be transmitted to his men. She had heard that Alexander was sending out searches and preparing to invade Babylon, supposedly where his wife would be.

How could she, Roxanna, compete with her, a figure who loomed like a specter in the midst of Alexander's ambition? Roxanna was beautiful and she knew it. Her beauty was surpassed only by Darius's wife.

More than that, she felt an inner resistance to the idea of ​​sharing. She knew it was common for kings to have multiple wives, but still, the idea of ​​becoming one of many repulsed her. Roxanna wanted to be more than the second wife, more than a symbol of victory over her people. She wanted to be the first, the only. It was a foolish desire, perhaps, but it was hers.

Still, she knew it didn’t matter. The decision wasn’t in her hands. If Alexander wanted her, there would be no escape. Refusal was unthinkable. She would be forced to play the role of wife, to fulfill the role assigned to her, whether her heart was in it or not.

She would be ready to give her heart to Alexander. But he... Was he ready to give his to her?

"A doctor has come to see you, my Queen." Bagoas’s soft voice cut through the silence of the room, respectful and controlled. He waited patiently at the door until you nodded, allowing him to enter. His gaze was always firm but affectionate, as if he were measuring the environment around him before taking a step. You couldn’t help but grow fond of the eunuch.

"Let him in." You replied, trying to hide the nervousness that was setting in. But the anxiety grew in waves, relentless, as the man entered the room. He carried with him a leather bag and a series of strange instruments. The sight of some of them, with their sharp, mechanical shapes, made your stomach turn. For a brief moment, you couldn’t help but think that they looked more like torture tools than healing tools.

You took a deep breath, trying to find calm. After all, this was an order from Perdiccas, who, even without saying it, showed genuine concern. The memory of him hugging you, holding your hand gently, whispering sweet words to you, was both comforting and disturbing. His presence awakened conflicting feelings. Part of you wished he was there, that he hadn't left the room so abruptly. But another part, hurt by the circumstances, wanted distance.

You needed to talk about what was happening. About everything. But not now. You needed to focus on yourself, on protecting yourself and the life growing inside you. At least, until Alexander came to get you.

Your gaze instinctively fell on your hands, which rested on the subtle curve of your belly. It was an almost unconscious gesture, an attempt to protect the life growing inside you. Although you weren't completely sure about the time, you estimated that your pregnancy was already close to four months. The idea was both beautiful and terrifying.

"How are you feeling, Your Majesty?" The doctor asked, his voice grave but gentle, as he took a few steps towards you. There was something in his gaze, a deep green that seemed to seek answers before you could even offer them.

"A little better." You murmured, trying to sound calm, but feeling the weight of your vulnerability. His eyes met yours, and for an instant, you felt disarmed, exposed. The tension in the air was palpable, and the anticipation of the upcoming examination increased the whirlwind of emotions that already took over you.

The doctor’s gaze fell on the discarded sheet next to the bed, where a small but unmistakable stain of blood marked the clear surface. He coughed discreetly, perhaps to disguise the evident discomfort he felt at the delicate situation.

"You were lucky," He said after a brief silence, gesturing for you to spread your legs. The request was direct, professional, but you couldn't help the blush that rose to your cheeks. The idea of ​​exposing yourself like that, even in front of a doctor, made your body stiffen with embarrassment.

But you forced yourself to keep your composure, taking a deep breath to push away the discomfort. "It’s like he’s a gynecologist," you told yourself in your head, trying to rationalize. He was a doctor, after all. It didn’t matter that medicine back then was rudimentary, or that you had doubts about the real effectiveness of his knowledge.

Details. Just details.

"Was I lucky?" Your voice came out in a low murmur, with a slightly bitter tone that you couldn’t hide. The whole situation felt surreal, as if you were trapped in a game that was out of your control.

And that was probably exactly what it was.

The doctor nodded, moving carefully as he lifted the light chiton covering your body. His gaze remained fixed on his task, professional but intense. "Yes," He replied, his voice deep but calm. "You almost miscarried."

The words hit you like a cold blast, making your heart clench. What had started as discomfort now became palpable fear. You knew the pregnancy was fragile, but hearing it so directly was a cruel confirmation of the vulnerability of this new life inside you.

Instinctively, your hands went back to your belly, as if trying to protect it from any unseen threat. The silence between you stretched for a moment, heavy, as you absorbed what he had said. It wasn’t just luck. It was a warning. And a reminder that your body and mind were carrying far more than they could bear alone.

The doctor carefully lowered your chiton before approaching you again, this time placing his hands on your belly. His initial touch was firm, almost rough, and you flinched instinctively, feeling uncomfortable with the pressure he was applying. He seemed oblivious to your reaction, completely focused on his assessment, but you could barely contain the shiver that ran through your body.

"Why are you doing that so hard?" You started to ask, but he held up his hand, interrupting you before you could finish.

"How long have you been pregnant, Your Majesty?" He asked, his voice serious, his eyes fixed on yours with an intensity that seemed to weigh on you.

For a moment, the question took you by surprise. His incisive tone and the way he stared at you made you nervous, but you knew you had to answer. Swallowing hard, you murmured, "I think I’m four months along..."

He nodded, but his gaze remained skeptical, as if questioning the accuracy of your answer. Stepping back, he seemed to ponder before finally uttering the words that left you speechless.

"I believe you are pregnant with twins."

"Twins?" You repeated in a whisper, almost as if you were asking yourself.

The doctor nodded again, this time with a more serious expression. He seemed to be measuring his words, but he still chose to be direct. "Your belly is more swollen than normal for a single pregnancy," He explained, his voice calm but filled with concern. After a brief sigh, he continued, this time with a darker tone. "Unfortunately, I must warn you of the risks. Giving birth to two babies... It’s dangerous. There’s a good chance you won’t survive the birth."

His words hit you like a blow. Your eyes widened, and the room seemed to close in around you. To die in childbirth. In ancient times. It sounded like a sentence you never imagined you would face. Terror settled in your chest, and for a moment it felt like the air had been sucked out of the room.

You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could utter a word, another voice cut through the silence.

"I suggest you keep your comments to yourself."

It was Perdiccas, his imposing figure appearing in the doorway of the room. His tone was calm, but filled with disapproval as he fixed the doctor with a hard stare. His eyes flashed, as if ready to squelch any further attempts to alarm her. "My Queen is already terrified enough. We don’t need your unnecessary comments."

His presence filled the space, and you felt a mixture of relief and discomfort. Perdiccas had always been a complex figure in your life — protective and, at the same time, charged with an authority that sometimes felt overwhelming. Yet his words, even as a reprimand to the doctor, brought a strange sense of security. As if, for a moment, he was willing to carry the weight you feared to face alone.

The doctor hesitated, clearly disconcerted, but bowed his head in deference. "My apologies, Your Majesty. It was merely a warning." He gathered his things quickly, as if to avoid any further confrontation with Perdiccas, and bowed out.

Now, only the two of you remained in the room. Perdiccas approached slowly, his eyes softening as they landed on you. "I will not let anything happen to you," He said, his voice lower and firmer, like a promise he seemed determined to keep.

And in that moment, you allowed yourself to believe his words. There was something in Perdiccas’ tone, in the firmness of his promise, that seemed sincere. Maybe it was the vulnerability that enveloped you, making him an anchor in the midst of the whirlwind of uncertainty. Or maybe it was the old feelings, the ones you tried to bury, but that now resurfaced, stubborn and undeniable, creating cracks in the armor you had built over time.

He was there, close enough for his presence to warm the cold room, and for a brief moment, you felt a security that you hadn’t experienced in months. Against all the reasons your mind tried to list, you found yourself trusting Perdiccas once again, as if his promise were a rope pulling you out of the abyss.

Or maybe it was the pregnancy hormones.

You just hoped you wouldn't regret it a second time.

Alexander was determined: he would only take Roxanna as his wife if he had the consent of (Y/N), his beloved and first wife, from whom fate had separated him. He knew that to unite with another woman without (Y/N)'s knowledge and permission would be the same as betraying the deep feelings he still harbored for her. It was a line that Alexander was not willing to cross. Acting in the shadows, making decisions that could hurt or dishonor (Y/N), would be an act he would never forgive himself for. The respect and love he had for her were unshakable, and even in the face of difficult circumstances, he was determined to honor them above all else.

But before any decision about Roxanna could be made, he had to recover (Y/N). There was no other path to follow while she was still beyond his reach. Alexander had already made his decision: he would leave for Babylon immediately. No matter the challenges, he was willing to face them.

He would mobilize his army for the mission, for he knew that no effort would be too great to rescue his beloved. He trusted his generals and soldiers completely, loyal men who had always followed him, and it would be no different this time. When he communicated his determination, he was certain that they would support him without hesitation, understanding that, for Alexander, the search for (Y/N) was not only a matter of love, but of honor.

"Call the generals immediately." Alexander's firm voice echoed through the room. The page, without wasting time, bowed hurriedly and ran off to carry out the order.

Alexander was alone for a moment, but his mind was far from there. He could almost smell (Y/N)'s perfume, that delicate and unmistakable aroma that had enveloped him so many times. He seemed to hear the soft melody of her laughter in the background and feel the gentle touch of her fingers against his skin. It was as if the memory of her was more alive than ever, calling him to action.

Finally, he would be going after her. There would be no more delay, doubts or hesitations. Every step he took now would bring him closer to (Y/N), and nothing in the world could stop him from bringing her back.

''I'm coming for you, my Queen.''

— lady l: maybe a shorter chapter but that's because it's like a preparation for chapter 19 and especially 20. I hope you liked it and forgive me for any mistakes! ❤️

See you a in the next chapter! I'll probably post the next this weekend, though. It's practically ready. 😉

Also, expect a lot of drama to come! Alexander is coming to Babylon!! 😚

[heliosunny]

Hii, I love your writing! Especially Lucky egg with Aventurine (⁠.⁠ ⁠❛⁠ ⁠ᴗ⁠ ⁠❛⁠.⁠) I'm not sure if you are still open to take a request •́⁠ ⁠ ⁠‿⁠ ⁠,⁠•̀

If you do I would like to request childhood friends to lovers with Aventurine (yandere x yandere) expect that Aventurine is more obsessed with reader while reader just threat Aventurine admirer to stay away from him. Aventurine later on found out that readers like him, of course that is Aventurine will try to pray out from reader without reader realising it.

Take your time and make sure to stay hydrated!

Yandere!Aventurine x Yandere!Reader

Aventurine leaned against the wall, arms crossed, an amused smirk playing on his lips as he watched you chase off yet another admirer. The poor fool had barely gotten two sentences out before you stepped in.

“You’re wasting your time” you had told them. “Someone like you doesn’t even stand a chance.”

It was a ritual at this point. Someone dared to approach Aventurine, and you made sure they didn’t try again.

Now, he was watching you, his eyes glinting with mischief. “You know,” he drawled, “if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were jealous.”

You scoffed, flipping your hair—or at least making a show of ignoring him. “I’m just doing a public service. The sooner they realize they have no hope, the less embarrassing it is for everyone.” Then, with a sweet tilt of your head, you added, “You should be thanking me, really.”

Aventurine chuckled, stepping closer, invading your space just enough to make it clear he knew exactly what he was doing. “Oh? You want a reward now?”

You huffed, crossing your arms. “At the very least, some praise. Go on, tell me how amazing I am.”

“You’re amazing.”

You blinked. He was rarely this direct. Before you could react, he laughed, stepping back. “But, my dear, if you keep scaring them all away, people might start thinking I belong to you.”

You smirked, tilting your chin up. “Maybe you do.”

His laughter stilled for half a second. A flicker of something unreadable passed through his gaze. Then, just as quickly, his easy going mask slipped back into place.

“That would be interesting.”

Little did you know, he intended to make sure of it.

Graduation day was a spectacle. You and Aventurine stood among your peers, the center of admiration in your own right—him for his effortless charm, you for your sharp wit and unshakable confidence.

As the ceremony ended and students parted ways, he found you near the exit, hands tucked into his pockets, his ever-present smirk in place. “So....where’s someone like you planning to go after this?”

You hummed, pretending to consider before casually dropping the name of your chosen company. His eyes flickered with interest. “That’s my parents’ company”

You widened your eyes slightly, feigning mild surprise. “Oh? What a coincidence.”

“A very lucky one.”

Fast forward to your first day at work. You walked into the sleek office, greeted by murmurs from other employees—new hires always drew attention, but you? You already stood out. The air of confidence you carried made you someone to watch.

And then, the moment you had anticipated arrived.

Aventurine stood at the front of the department, looking effortlessly composed, dressed in a tailored suit that only accentuated the arrogance in his stance. His gaze locked onto yours, something smug and knowing flickering in his eyes.

“Didn’t expect to see you here.”

You blinked, tilting your head in well-practiced confusion. “You work here?”

He knew. But he played along.

“As your head of department, no less.” He took a step forward, lowering his voice just enough for only you to hear. “I look forward to working with you.”

Under Aventurine’s leadership, and your own subtle influence, your department quickly became one of the most efficient in the company. Projects were completed ahead of schedule, deals closed with impressive success rates, and while other departments struggled with internal issues, yours remained a well-oiled machine.

Of course, much of that was thanks to an unspoken system between you and Aventurine.

While your official role had nothing to do with it, you ensured that any overeager admirer who got too close to Aventurine was dealt with—politely discouraged or, if necessary, intimidated into staying away. He, in turn, did the same for you. If anyone showed too much interest, Aventurine had a way of making them disappear from your orbit, whether through well-placed rumors, strategic work assignments, or outright dismissal.

It was a silent game between you two, one that no one else noticed.

Months passed, and your department’s success led to a well-earned celebration. Drinks flowed freely, and you, usually composed, had more than your fair share.

At some point, as the night blurred into a haze, you found yourself leaning against Aventurine, your voice slurred but your words unusually sincere.

“You know” you murmured, “I like you.”

He stilled. You were drunk—too drunk to lie, too drunk to scheme. It was the truth, raw and unfiltered, slipping past your lips before you could stop it.

Aventurine’s smirk softened, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. He had always known, had seen the signs, but hearing it from you, in your own words, was something else entirely.

He let you ramble a bit more, basking in the moment.

But the next morning, when you groggily woke up with a pounding headache and no memory of your confession, he understood.

You had forgotten.

And so, he continued his act. He remained your close friend, the same as always, pretending not to know the truth you had once let slip.

After all, if you didn’t remember, then he’d simply wait for you to say it again—this time, when you were sober, when there was no excuse to take it back.

-----

Aventurine had always known you belonged to him.

So when he noticed your colleague, some pathetic, overeager fool—clinging to you more than they should, he saw it as a challenge. They laughed too easily at your jokes, found excuses to be near you, and worst of all, acted as if they had a right to your time.

Aventurine smiled through it all, of course. Played the role of the charming superior, never letting on how much their presence grated on him. But behind the scenes, he was already setting things in motion.

It was almost too easy. A misplaced document here, a poorly handled report there, all leading to a mistake so significant that termination was inevitable. When the announcement came, Aventurine watched you closely.

You barely reacted. You had always been sharp—if you had truly cared, you would have noticed the setup. Instead, you continued as if nothing had changed, your attention fixated on him alone.

You bought him lunch without hesitation, stayed in his office under the guise of "helping" him, indulged his whims with a familiarity that sent a thrill through his veins.

Yes, this was where you belonged.

And then, the perfect opportunity arrived. A chance to lure you into his trap.

This time, you would walk into his web willingly.

The bar was a familiar comfort—a place you frequented enough that the staff knew your usual orders. It was no surprise, then, when a friendly female worker greeted you with a warm smile.

"Hey, you're back! Here, have some on the house." she said, sliding a small plate of treats toward you.

You took it without much thought, but Aventurine’s gaze darkened ever so slightly. His fingers tapped lazily against his glass as he watched the exchange.

Jealousy coiled inside him.

She was just being nice, but it didn’t matter. He didn’t like seeing anyone treat you as if they had the right to your attention. That was his privilege.

Still, he smiled, as he always did, masking his displeasure beneath a charming facade.

"Seems like you’re quite the favorite here." he mused, pouring you another drink.

You shrugged. "I come here often."

"Clearly."

He didn’t need to do much after that. You were already comfortable, already drinking at a steady pace. Aventurine, ever the attentive friend, made sure your glass was never empty, nudging you to drink just a little more, his own intake carefully controlled.

By the time the night deepened, you were warm and pliant under his gaze, your sharp edges dulled by intoxication. Perfect.

“You’re staying at my place” he murmured, guiding you up with an arm around your waist.

You barely protested. Why would you? He was always by your side.

One of his many houses was nearby, a private sanctuary where no one would disturb you both. He led you inside, settled you onto a plush couch, and before you could drift into unconsciousness, he struck.

"Say," he leaned in, "why do you always chase off my admirers?"

Your head swayed slightly, your inhibitions stripped away. "Because I don’t like them."

He chuckled. "Oh? You don’t like them or… you don’t like them around me?"

You groaned, running a hand down your face. "I hate it. I hate watching you with other people. You always act like it’s nothing, like it’s a joke, but it’s not."

Aventurine remained still, letting you pour your heart out.

"You tease me so much, but you don’t take me seriously," you continued, voice slurring slightly. "You make me feel like I’m just one of the people you play with, and I hate it."

Slowly, he reached into his pocket, ensuring the recording was saved—proof, undeniable, that you wanted him just as much as he wanted you.

Carefully, he wove his fingers through your hair, tilting your face toward him. "I’m sorry" he murmured, his voice dripping with honeyed remorse. "I didn’t know I was making you feel that way."

For a moment, it seemed like everything was going exactly as he had planned.

And then—

You lurched forward, and before he could react, you puked.

Right on his expensive designer shoes.

Aventurine stared, utterly speechless for the first time in his life.

"...Well," he finally said, voice strained, "that was unexpected."

The next morning, you woke up with a pounding headache, the aftermath of last night's drinks weighing heavily on you. Blinking against the sunlight filtering through the curtains, you quickly realized something was off.

You weren’t in your own bed.

Instead, you were nestled against him, Aventurine’s warmth pressing against your side, his arm draped lazily over your waist.

Before you could process anything, a familiar voice—far too smug for your liking—broke through the silence.

"Good morning, darling" Aventurine purred.

You groaned, sitting up. "Why am I here?"

He stretched leisurely, then reached for his phone. "Well, you had quite the night," he mused. "And I have proof."

Then, with a single tap, he played the recording.

Your own voice filled the air—raw, unfiltered emotions spilling out. I hate watching you with other people. You always act like it’s nothing, like it’s a joke, but it’s not...

You were busted.

Aventurine watched your reaction, "You know," he murmured, "you could just admit it. Save yourself the trouble."

You clenched your jaw, glaring at him, but there was no way out of this. He had you cornered.

"...Fine, bastard." you muttered.

"Fine?" His grin widened, and before you could take it back, he pulled you closer. "Say it properly."

You huffed, cheeks burning. "I like you, okay? Are you happy now?"

"Ecstatic." he whispered before pressing a kiss to your temple.

And just like that, you were his. Officially.

[aemsgirl]

Stupid girl.

Michael Gavey x Reader.

Summary: On Christmas Eve, Michael found himself alone, stuck in the quiet of his room, with no invitation to the Christmas party that everyone else was attending. He tried to distract himself, dive into something—anything—to kill the time. But it would’ve been easier if your arrogant, fucking beautiful face didn’t keep invading his thoughts.

Warnings: This will be Michael Gavey alone and bursting with need. Solo masturbation, nipple teasing, choking, whimpering, loud moaning, dirty talking.

By now, Michael swears he can see the letters burned onto the backs of his eyelids, etched onto the scratched lenses of his glasses. He’s been reading, re-reading, poring over the same pages for what feels like hours—not out of necessity, but out of sheer, exquisite boredom. Studying is beneath him; he doesn’t need it, not like the pathetic little plebs cluttering up Oxford’s hallowed halls. Especially not the ones fawning over Felix at tonight’s insipid Christmas party.

Not that Michael was invited, of course. NFI—no fucking invite. But who cares? Honestly, the idea of enduring that brain-dead circus of undercooked intellects is enough to make him laugh. Felix and his preening flock of hangers-on, spilling cheap wine and flinging around half-baked opinions as if they’re profound insights—God, it’s all so unbearably tedious.

Michael knows better. He's smarter than all of them combined. He doesn’t need their pathetic approval or their pitiful attempts at camaraderie. He's better than this. Smarter than this. And frankly, he knows it.

But even geniuses have their weak spots—turns out, he’s still human after all. The real issue? That old adage about idle hands being the devil’s workshop might as well have been written for him. And in his case, the devil wasn't some abstract concept—it was you. Yes, you. That insufferable, magnetic little thorn on its side, always lurking just out of reach. He couldn’t shake you—not in the university hallways, and apparently not in the supposed sanctity of his dorm room either.

What the fuck is your problem, anyway?

He’d clocked you from the start. And no, it wasn't because of your perfect face, or your body that made his stomach twist in ways he'd rather not name. It wasn't your eyes, either—though they had a way of locking onto him, melting his resolve with the precision of a surgeon. Nor was it how you always looked a little undone when you showed up late, messy but effortlessly captivating, like you weren't even trying. And it certainly wasn't the rare times you smiled—God, that smile—that fucking gorgeous, infuriating smile that seemed to light up the entire room and derail every coherent thought in his head.

Although, if he’s honest, he’s got a sneaking suspicion all of those things had more to do with it than he’d like to admit.

It was the way you were good. Not just good, but obnoxiously good. The kind of good that felt like a personal affront. You always seemed to know the answers before the question had fully left the teacher's mouth, every word perched smugly on the edge of your tongue, just waiting for the perfect moment to make everyone else in the room feel like an idiot. You weren’t mediocre—not in your looks, and certainly not in your intellect. And it drove him mad.

It wasn't a passing irritation, either. It burned. Deep. It clawed at him that there was nothing he could label you—no snide insult to fling your way. Idiot? Hardly. Loser? Not a chance. He couldn't even resort to the old “stupid, spoiled rich girl” trope, because like him, you were a scholarship student. No silver spoon. No trust fund.

There was nothing. Not a single flaw for him to latch onto. And that—more than anything else—infuriated him.

It was irritating him now—gnawing at him, scratching under his skin—until he threw the book back onto the wobbly table in front of him with a sharp slap of paper against wood. He let himself pause, tilting his head back and closing his eyes, feeling the ache of his body sink into the uncomfortable chair. His hand drifted to his face, thumb and index finger pinching the bridge of his nose as if he could squeeze out the tension gathered from hours of relentless reading. The release was brief—his hand dropped back to his lap with an exhale that was equal parts exhaustion and frustration.

And, of course, his mind began to wander. It always did.

He could still remember the only real interaction he’d had with you—back in those first few weeks after you’d arrived. Something stupid, trivial, forgettable. Except not for him. His brain, that obstinate bastard, clung to it like a dog with a bone.

The hallways had been chaos that morning, teeming with bodies and noise. Probably Felix and his band of sycophants stirring up their usual mess. He'd been trying to slip through, and apparently, so had you. He hadn’t even noticed he was behind you until it was too late.

The memory alone made his chest tighten. The smell of your hair, warm and clean, had hit him first, flooding his senses. Then the heat radiating from you, so alive it was almost unbearable. And finally, the proximity—too close, close enough to make his pulse hammer.

He’d had to touch you, his hands finding your hips without a second thought as he maneuvered past. “Excuse me,” he’d murmured, low and quiet, just beside your ear. And then your eyes—those fucking eyes—turned to his, locking onto him with an intensity that nearly stopped him in his tracks.

He remembers how, in that fleeting, charged moment, your bodies pressed closer together as he tried to move past you. How his hand lingered on your hips just a second too long, how your warmth seeped into him like some addictive, forbidden drug. And then, as he finally squeezed by, your hips brushed against his.

Holy shit!

The contact felt a jolt straight through him, lighting up every delicious, traitorous nerve in his body.

Michael bit his lip, the memory still fresh and alive, thrumming through his body like a pulse he couldn’t control. It was pathetic, he knew that. Laughable, even. And yet, there it was—the way it made him feel then, the way it was making him feel now. His gaze dropped, and he caught sight of himself: the loose black shorts he’d thrown on for the night already tented, his shirtless torso rising and falling with heavy, uneven breaths. The bridge of his glasses slid slightly down his nose, slick with sweat.

He could hardly believe it, how turned on he really was—how something so fleeting had embedded itself in him like this.

A low, involuntary sound escaped his lips as his head fell back again, resting against the edge of the chair. His hips shifted weakly, thrusting upwards in a desperate, almost instinctive rhythm, finding nothing but empty air. Torturous. Completely maddening. His fingers gripped the arms of the chair with white-knuckled determination, keeping himself grounded, holding back from giving in entirely.

No, not yet. He wanted to make it last, draw it out, at least for this fleeting moment. Since you were already so deeply in his fucking head, he might as well let himself indulge in it.

Slowly, so achingly slow, he let his hands drift from the arms of the chair, sliding up over his body. His fingers brushed against the flat of his stomach, gliding up to his chest, his touch igniting a shiver that made his back arch instinctively. Every inch of his skin felt alive, buzzing under his fingertips, alight with sensation.

And then you were there again, haunting him. He could see your hands in his mind—how effortlessly you wrote, quick and precise, how sometimes you’d press a fingertip to your lips to wet it before flipping to the next page. The memory crawled over him like fire, his skin burning with the thought of you, your face painted vividly behind his closed eyelids. Every inch of you felt so close, tantalisingly within reach—if only in the merciless confines of his imagination.

His fingers found his nipples, hardened and aching, and he rolled them between his thumb and forefinger, a shock of pleasure coursing through him. His hips lifted sharply, pressing against the frustrating barrier of his shorts, seeking some kind of release. A low, slurred groan escaped him, unrestrained, sweat dripping from his temple as his mind spun with thoughts of your smile—wicked and teasing—and your teeth, perfect and dangerous, that he was certain would leave marks he’d never want to forget.

Fuck. It was too much, all of it. Too much and not enough.

"Fuck, I'm so hard," Michael mumbled to himself, the words slipping out into the emptiness of the room, perhaps picturing how you'd react if you knew how much he was aching for you.

His hand finally ventures down, sliding under his clothes to free his erection into the cool air. He gazes at the precum beading at the tip, a clear sign of his arousal, almost laughing at how insanely turned on he is by the mere thought of you. A smile curves his lips, followed by a quiet chuckle. He's so wound up, it's almost absurd. With his thumb, he begins to circle the sensitive head of his cock.

"Oh, yeah," Michael whispers again, his lips parting, eyebrows knitting together as waves of pleasure wash over him. "Yeah, yeah, that feels so good." His words fade into the air, his other hand still on his chest, giving the nipple a sharp twist, heightening his sensations.

His breathing becomes labored, the pleasure intense yet unfulfilling. He craved you, only you. His hand moved to his mouth, thumb slipping between his lips, tasting himself, a moan echoing from deep within as he fantasized it was your essence he was savoring. He longed for the taste of your pussy, to dive between your legs with abandon, to explore every inch of that perfect cunt he imagined you possessing. The thought of you riding his face, using him for your pleasure, made his desire spike to new heights. He wanted to be the one to make you shudder, to feel your thighs clamp around his head as you took what you needed from him.

Withdrawing his hand from his mouth, he spits into his palm, the saliva making his hand slick, ready to simulate the wetness he'd bring out in you. His fingers then wrap around his erection, eyes rolling back as his hand grips him at the base, a silent moan parting his lips.

"Oh fuck," he murmurs, overwhelmed by the sensation, the throbbing of his cock almost punitive in its intensity.

Taking a deep breath, he begins to stroke himself, his other hand gripping the arm of the chair, nails digging into the fabric. His hips buck in rhythm with his hand, up and down, the mental image of you vivid in his mind. He imagines how snug you'd feel around him, how it would feel to stretch you with his thickness, to dive deep and watch your expression shift from clever to needy. Would you take all of him without protest? Would your moans fill the room? Would tears of pleasure brim in your eyes for him? Just the thought sends tremors through his legs.

"You're so tight," he vocalizes, not fully understanding why he's speaking it aloud, but needing to make the fantasy more concrete. "You little smug bitch, I want to fuck you so bad, so bad..." he repeats, almost like a mantra.

His hand accelerates, the pace frantic as he watches, his gaze fixed on his own arousal. His cock, slick with saliva and precum, is a mess, the head engorged, veins protruding like they're about to explode. He imagines himself thrusting into you, coated in your essence, shining with your desire. His chest is covered in sweat, his legs trembling, his toes curling in ecstasy.

"Oh fuck, I need you, please," he begs, as if by some divine intervention, you'd hear and materialize right there. "Please, please make me cum, please..." His plea, though soft, reverberates around him.

The hand that was clutching the chair moves to his throat, his grip tightening, a statement of need. He imagines it's your hand, while you ride him, those perfect breasts bouncing before his eyes. He craves the suffocation, the breath taken away by you and your sharp mind. His fingers press harder into his throat, moans escaping as muffled sounds, his other hand now punishingly fast, the veins in his forearm standing out with the effort.

"I'm cumming, fuck..." He cuts off his own words, his grip on his throat tightening further, not allowing his hand on his cock to slow. "Cum with me, fuck!" The words are barely audible as his body surrenders to the climax.

His eyes roll back, and he quickly moves the hand from his throat to cover his mouth, muffling the scream of pleasure as his release hits, cum spilling onto his stomach, his thighs clenching in desperation, his whole body tense with the image of you in his mind. Everything fades into numbness, except for the vivid image of you, the thought of fucking you.

Michael’s body slackened in the chair, sliding lower as his arms fell limp at his sides. His head tipped back, eyes half-lidded with exhaustion. When he glanced down, he saw the mess he’d made—his stomach sticky, his skin glistening with sweat, strands of hair plastered to his damp forehead. He was a wreck, a pathetic disaster, and all for someone who would never know.

A stupid grin crept onto his lips as his eyes wandered to the ceiling, a long, heavy sigh leaving his chest.

“I hate you so much,” he murmured to the empty room, his voice barely audible. A part of him almost wished you could hear it, wherever you were right now. Then again, maybe it was better if you didn’t.

A low chuckle rumbled from his chest, his head shaking faintly from side to side as that ridiculous smile lingered. Yeah, he hated you. Hated the way you got under his skin, the way you took up space in his thoughts without even trying. But, God help him, he should probably thank you—for making Christmas Eve marginally more interesting than the stale, lifeless pages of his books.

Stupid girl.

[lovelyahoy]

Dr. Stone: One-shot.

Word Count:5,705.

Warnings: Happy ending angst(?) question mark because I suck at angst and I didn't plan on it, then I realized what I had written uhm yeahhh, maybe way too OOC Senku, my writing is a warning itself, might feel (very) rushed, has a few triggers involving mental health issues, mention of suicide.

Summary: Senku's always logically thinking brain is steadily corrupted by something he can't seem to solve, the girl who barely seemed to take part in the world.

Pairing: Senku Ishigami x Fem!Reader.

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[Y/N] was a science he couldn't decipher.

Were they friends? He couldn't tell. She lingered here and there but never long enough to spark a conversation, her [E/C] eyes never changed from the blank stare—face frozen in a stone-cold expression.

Most classmates assumed she wasn't interested in making friends, focusing on her studies to remain in her position as the second-highest-ranked student. Senku thought the same for the longest while, over time she naturally drifted from his usual thoughts. Despite that, [Y/N] managed to make appearances in his head whenever he'd stumble on a psychology article, or social media posts asking for advice on friendships and getting to know other people.

During one of his rare lazy nights, he scrolled through his phone, scarlet eyes landing on a particular question.

"how can i find out if my friend is okay without being it obvious?"-posted 30 minutes ago by alo_mistx11

25 comments +

He sighed, when did it start bothering him this much? The leek-haired boy clicked on the plus sign, eyebrow raising at how the replies were lengthy paragraphs of others trying to give real advice, he sped-read most of it.

"I'm going to use my personal experience to try and give you some idea, I noticed a while ago that my friend's mood never seemed to change, not when he did something he claimed to like or something he mentioned hating. I started by asking simple questions like, how was your morning? did you enjoy lunch today? what do you think of this x thing? His typical answers were short, direct and lacked details—but the more I asked, the more I realized they started changing. He added a few more comments every time, slowly but surely my friend opened up, the 'It was fine.' turned into 'It was nice.' the 'Yeah, I did.' was now 'Not really, my curry didn't have enough flavor.'

The point is, to focus on their answers and go from there. Words are complicated, they can mean multiple things at once or nothing at all. Be patient.

Senku woke up the next morning with a mission to work on, instead of his usual seat in the middle of the classroom he swapped to sit next to a stiffly sitting [H/C] haired girl who didn't spare him a glance.

Why wasn't he sure of their status? Because he met the girl back in the third year of middle school, ever since then she always silently chose him as her partner for any assignment that needed to be worked on in pairs, sitting next to him during school trips and not to mention lingering in the science club—something she still did to this day in high school. Halfway through the second year of knowing each other, he realized maybe the reason wasn't her but him, thinking she silently made an effort while he didn't.

Weirdly enough he couldn't recall a single time she spoke, did she even at all? Was she mute and he didn't notice? Senku would ramble his points during their work, not caring if she paid attention or not. However, he knew she did, [Y/N] writing exactly what he had just said and using it for their presentations.

"How was your morning?"

A brief pause in her movements, a nod, and nothing else.

So he tried right after lunchtime, making his way back to the classroom he noticed her standing by an open window. Senku slid next to her, careful to not invade her personal space. Taking a moment to admire how the sun's rays gave her [S/C] skin a glow-like effect, even as her face expressed nothing her body was relaxed.

"Did you enjoy lunch today?"

Once again, a quick nod and she walked away.

Nearing the end of the last lesson, their teacher bid them a good day and left them to write down the homework scribbled on the blackboard. Senku zipped up his bag before catching up to [Y/N] who was already halfway down the hallway.

"What did you think of today's topic?"

Oh, she stopped walking. Her head slowly tilted over her shoulder to show him her usual face, [E/C] met a curious scarlet. She shook her head.

It wasn't exactly a huge progress, but it was something. He kept a notepad solely to write down her responses, day after day it stayed the same, a nod, a shake, or nothing at all. Senku's curiosity turned into something more, like a desperation to understand just what or who [Y/N] really was.

It gnawed at him that nothing he tried worked, repeating himself like a broken record and possibly annoying the girl—if she could feel annoyance anyway. But science took time, he knew that, Senku needed to up his effort.

So he decided to drop the questions he took from the post, scribbling consistent things she indulged in. Sadly, reading books was the first and only thing he noticed she did regularly, or well read one book, Senku realized after a short while she always re-read the same one.

Walking behind her while leaning over her seated figure, squinting his eyes trying to catch a glimpse. Pointing at a random corner in the classroom and reaching his hand over to move the book closer when she looked away. Even going as far as to lie to [Y/N] that a teacher was looking for her.

And every single damn time, the book was too far away for his eyes to catch anything. The cover closed over the pages whenever she'd look away from it, and the worst one of all, she carried it everywhere. Leaving no room to snatch it in her lack of presence.

Two weeks later the perfect opportunity set itself up for him, or so he thought.

While they were paired up in groups and loud chatter filled the room, the teacher asked [Y/N] to quickly fetch some assignments he forgot in the staff room. The scientist took this chance to pull out the book from her bag, there was nothing written on the cover. Senku flipped through the pages, feeling his face scrunch up as he read the words—this wasn't a story like he initially thought, no, it was more of a diary.

Entry #27

She started kicking a lot today, the first few times made me feel so giddy! But now I can't pick up my paintbrush without her causing me so much pain, can she stop?

Entry #28

I'm so sorry, I don't want her anymore. I'm scared, so goddamn scared…

Senku stuffed the book into his bag in a hurry when he noticed the top of her head peeking through the door's window before opening it. [Y/N] handed over the papers she was sent to get and took a seat next to him, picking up her pen and continuing to write.

On the outside, his composure could rival that of an actor, inside? Oh lord, inside he was screaming at himself, why the hell did he panic? He didn't know how he could return her book before she noticed—he's screwed.

[Y/N] reached into her bag, sitting up straight when her hand came up empty. Scarlet eyes widened in absolute fear surprise when the grasp on her pen tightened hard enough to spill ink out of the blocked end. Small plastic shards fell onto her open work notebook alongside droplets of crimson red, she hardly seemed fazed by the injury and wiped the blood away with a handkerchief.

He felt like he fucked up. Big time.

Senku started to lecture her to ease his worry in a familiar way, "Plastic might seem harmless to most people, but if microplastics enter your bloodstream it could cause cell damage, inflammation and not to mention an increased chance to develop diseases." he gently took the cloth and wrapped it around her hand carefully, tying a knot to secure it from moving. During his ramble he could feel her [E/C] eyes burning into his forehead, he couldn't bring himself to meet her gaze.

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[Y/N] walked into the classroom on a cold Monday morning, she made the mistake of showering before checking the weather—leaving her body shivering while she waited for the bus just a few moments prior.

Like always, she tuned out the lively talk and sat down at the very back. Senku was already there writing down a list of things he'd need for an experiment, or so she assumed. Lately, the boy had been weirdly talkative to her, he always entertained her with random science facts but now he'd been asking questions out of the blue.

"Good morning." She wanted to part her lips and greet him back, but the grip on her bag tightened when she nodded instead and sat down.

With the book gone, [Y/N]'s routine had drastically been reduced to nothingness for hours. Her hand was now wrapped with clean bandages, there wasn't a chance in the world she misplaced the book. That meant someone had purposely taken it, her brain recited the pages to fill the void, word by word.

Entry #76

The doctor said I needed to be careful, [Y/N]'s very fragile. Was this my fault? I should've taken care of myself more, what if she never gets better? Sorry…

Entry #102

What's this? I don't know, I can't tell. Voices. There are voices everywhere and no one else seems to hear them, they happen when I'm around her…is this [Y/N]'s fault? Making her mother suffer this much, what have I done to deserve this?

"Pigeons have five color receptors in their eyes, while humans only have three." The feeling of something falling on her shoulders and the scrapping sound of a chair broke her trance.

Her closed eyes fluttered open, head tilting over her shoulder as if questioning Senku's random fact and act. [Y/N] observed the slight red tint his ears got, looking away while she slipped her arms through the sweater's sleeves.

"I saw you petting a pigeon Friday after school."

'You look cute like this.' is what she wanted to say, a twinge of pain in her chest brought her back from her thoughts. Why was he observing her so closely nowadays? Senku was completely out of character. His questions, thankfully now dropped, unsettled her at times—reminding her of the twice-a-week therapy sessions.

"Would you like to come over? Taiju and I are going try and send another rocket into space."

'Huh, another?' It was so…Senku coded…that her surprise melted away quickly, it sounded like it could be fun but unfortunately, she couldn't head anywhere other than home. Her dad who worked from home never let her out of his sight besides school, not even to go to the corner store. It used to feel suffocating, but now she mindlessly went along with it, fighting was a waste of time.

When you're the cause of someone else's despair, it's only fair to stay quiet and oblige them.

The boy sighed softly at the shake of her head, denying his invitation. Senku wasn't one to give up, his mind dead set on everything having a solution and while humans were complicated beings, a science he typically had no interest in—he wanted to know about [Y/N] no matter how long it took. When he started something, it was almost impossible for him to stop.

A note slid onto his desk, the pinky stuck in his ear stopped moving, and Senku felt his heart skip a beat. There laid her first words towards him, on the ripped-up corner of her notebook page.

'Sorry, have fun for me.'

That single note had changed everything, a huge leap in progress. Taiju questioned him on the number of packs of post-it notes he carried in his bag, only to get brushed off by the ecstatic scientist. Senku would stick a blank note on her desk every day since that Monday, and without fail, it would be on his after a few minutes of asking her stuff. It was a wonder how he didn't feel impatient at her vague words and quick sentences, but they were far better than the nods.

"I'm sure the next one won't explode."

"Good luck."

"Your club member dropped off this box."

"I'd like to know more about pigeons."

Senku breathed in shakily reading the newest piece of paper he got, eyes borderline burning imaginary holes into the only note he kept safe. The rest were thrown out after their 'conversation' ended, but this one? He couldn't bring himself to do the same.

Unfortunately, after this breakthrough, his only obstacle to moving forward was the book still stuffed in his bag. Logically theorizing her reaction, ten billion percent it would end with her killing never speaking to him again. Guilt overtook him whether he liked it or not, it felt wrong to just place it on her desk when she wasn't around. Senku was sure [Y/N] knew someone had taken it, he needed to come clean.

Oh boy.

"Uhm, are you sure about this, Senku?" Yuzuriha waved her hands frantically, she tagged along for a few minutes when the leek-haired boy asked her to help look for [Y/N]. The crafts member was horrified when he admitted to being the culprit behind the book's disappearance, Yuzuriha hung around the [H/C] haired girl on the daily—with them being in the same club.

"Nope, tell Byakuya to stop crying like a wimp when I go missing." The brown-haired girl could see Senku smirking smugly, however, he couldn't hide his trembling body from the thought of how this could all go down.

Waiting behind the corner, they noticed [Y/N] finally walk out of the nurse's office and head towards them. Senku tried to take a step back, only for Yuzuriha to send him an encouraging smile and push him forward. Her friend was going to get her book, no matter what.

Senku stumbled forward almost bumping into [Y/N], he huffed out an annoyed sound and fixed his lab coat. He wordlessly grabbed her wrist in a gentle grip and guided her to the rooftop. Really he was just trying to buy more time to compose himself, these feelings were beginning to become an illogical mess.

Illogical. Feelings were nothing but illogical, that's what he always said to himself and others. It was bothersome to realize that once they overtook you, it was hard to push them away.

[Y/N] walked behind him without struggle, eventually settling near the railing of the rooftop. Her eyes noticed his hand reach into the bag, grasping something and hesitating to bring it out. She had a vague idea of what it was going to be. Suspicions floating in her head were confirmed when her mother's journal entered her line of sight, she made no move to grab it, only raising her head to stare into his wavering eyes.

[H/C] hair was hit by a soft breeze, she lifted a hand to brush it out of her face.

"Why?"

Feeling like his brain malfunctioned, Senku nearly dropped the book at her voice. It was soft—so soft that if he wasn't paying attention, he would've missed it. He couldn't tell if she was mad or upset, face staying neutral.

"I'm sorry." He wiggled the book, trying to encourage her to take it and be done with it. Senku felt sweat build on his forehead when she stayed still. "I wanted to know more about you, I got too into my head and took it."

"Know me as a person or did you see it as an experiment?"

"I'm sorry."

[Y/N] finally grabbed her belonging, tracing a finger over the smooth cover. "Did you..?"

"Read it? only two entries." He didn't know if that would help him save face. "I couldn't bring myself to read further without your permission." He watched her flip through the pages, still standing in front of him with what seemed like zero interest, before he could utter another rushed apology she spoke once again.

"I'm not allowed to talk, not at school or home." She paused, trying to think of a good reason to keep talking. Senku, from the beginning, sparked hints of emotion she thought she had lost forever ago. It was an occurrence she wanted to keep happening, and while she couldn't ignore the slight anger bubbling right now—she would suppress it, not wanting to lose him.

Maybe, just maybe she could get this off her chest. Knowing the boy would never gossip or spread rumors about her, Senku wasn't that type of person, and perhaps that's why he drew her in so quickly.

"My dad says I sound too alike to my late mother, he hates it. I'm not sure when exactly I stopped talking altogether, but before I knew it, my voice felt like a distant memory." [Y/N] sighed softly, continuing when she realized he had no intentions of interrupting her. "It's not that I hide my feelings like everyone claims, I just don't feel them anymore. Not as strong anyways."

"Your cute science rambles gained all of my attention, ever since middle school. Something about your passion and love for it made me feel warm inside, the strongest feeling I'd get was all because of you."

[Y/N] took another, much longer pause this time. Slowly thinking back on her words, he'd probably think she was confessing to him. Before she could rephrase, the bell rang loudly. Senku gave no indication that he planned on moving, taking a step forward and stopping her.

"Finish what you were saying."

"Senku…"

"You were right. At first, the way you acted did feel like science I wanted to figure out, over time It became more about…you…as a person." His scarlet eyes kept their focus on her, refusing to break contact. "So, please [Y/N], tell me everything, every detail possible—I ten billion percent assure you I will do whatever I can to help you."

Seconds later she pushed the book into his chest gently, leaving him to hold it while walking back inside. He stood there feeling conflicted. Fuck. Was this really okay?

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Click. Clack. Click.

The sound echoed throughout the room, the culprit? Newton's cradle settled on her therapist's desk. The older man knew it bothered her, why he kept it moving was a mystery she wished would disappear.

"It's been years [Y/N], why do you still come back?"

"Because you suck at your job."

"Cheeky shit." Dr. Bernard poured himself a glass of whiskey, swirling the liquid around before downing it in one go. "Your mom died, get over it."

"You know what your real problem is? You. You're the issue. You self-destruct whenever you feel any hint of happiness, feeling guilty about it." [Y/N] stayed quiet, these words had been thrown at her by the man since forever ago. "Your mom hated you, not because she wanted to, or because you did something. Being happy isn't going to make her mad, [Y/N] she's fucking dead."

"Can we end this early? I just needed your signature."

She dusted off her school skirt, taking the waving paper from Bernard's hand. He didn't let go, forcing them to engage in eye contact. "I hope you find something that brings you so much joy, you stop taking these shits."

For a drunk, rude, and lazy therapist, Bernard had been the best possible match. He'd been trying for years, since [Y/N] was a mere eight-year-old crying hysterically whenever her mom came up as a topic. Why was he the best in her eyes? Well, it came in the form of his prescription notepad. At first, he hesitated assigning any further treatment, however over time while his life went to shit, he stopped caring about his job and patients.

"I didn't understand at the time, why she was so unresponsive. Taking a nap…what a joke.."

"It must've been heard to learn the truth, [Y/N]. However that's why you're here with me, I'll be helping you."

Even when he got back on track, he couldn't fix the addiction he created within [Y/N]. Trust him he fucking tried, she always managed to get the pills one way or another, even if it meant getting involved with shady third-party sellers. So he kept agreeing to sign for them.

While [Y/N] laid in bed waiting for her medication to settle and lull her into sleep, a few blocks away a certain scientist was doing intensive 'research'.

Postpartum psychosis. A mental illness that causes a mother to lose their grip on reality after giving birth, hallucinations, and deep confusion are the main symptoms. Senku was approaching the middle of the journal when he realized the extent of it, putting pieces together from each entry. Some were lengthy, others were single sentences.

Entry #123

[Y/N] made paper flowers for Mother's day, gosh she looked so adorable with those messy pigtails she insisted on doing herself. Lately, I've realized my thoughts have been jumbled in a way, I don't even remember writing those weird entries that keep appearing. Maybe [Dad/N] was playing a prank on me? Anyway, leaving this cute memory here.

Senku traced the glued-on picture, a smiling [Y/N] hugging her mother's leg while shoving the fake flowers into her hand. They looked extremely happy.

He couldn't help but intensely stare, a part of him wanted her to smile like that for him. Subconsciously making it a goal in his head. Senku yawned looking at his clock, a little past two in the morning, he was too focused to stop.

Entry #268

Something's wrong. Yesterday I had a vivid dream where I nearly killed my baby girl, it felt so real. From the sound of her crying to the blood that gushed out from where I cut her….it was horrible. I tried to cater to [Y/N] all day, giving her treats and playing dolls until sundown. Why do I feel so guilty, if it was only a dream?

The clock continued to tick, flipping another page Senku's eyes began to droop. It was extremely illogical for him to tire himself out like this, fully knowing he could finish reading tomorrow—the book still remained in his grasp.

He couldn't begin to imagine what [Y/N] had lived through, typically postpartum psychosis lasted for weeks, sometimes months, and in bad cases up to three years. It seemed [M/N] never got better, slipping between her mental illness and reality constantly for eight consecutive years. To hear and see your mother love you so profoundly one day only to hate your existence the next, must've been awful.

Entry #311

This will be my final entry, I've hurt you so much already and I can't continue to allow it. Remembering is becoming harder and harder with each passing day, but I know I love you [Y/N], so very much. Take care of [D/N], he'll get a bit lonely without me.

I'll leave this book with you, hoping you finish filling its pages. Please be strong my little pigeon, I know you asked me to stop calling you that but I couldn't help it. Will you allow just this once? I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry darling, promise me that you'll live life to the fullest, for both of us.

-[M/N] [L/N]

His fingers lightly traced the darker spots around the page's surface, lips trembling when he realized some of them were dried-up blood instead of tears. Senku noticed the pages after this last entry were all written by [Y/N], hesitating for a good while until he remembered how the girl had entrusted him with it.

Entry #46

Dr. Bernard couldn't answer my question, I didn't expect much to be honest. He's been drinking heavily every session, his wife died? or was it his kid? Perhaps both. I wonder when I stopped caring, where is the real me? Neither of us knew.

So with an energy drink he'd been avoiding till now, cracked open and set onto his bed stand he was ready for an all-nighter. Future Senku can deal with tiredness.

Entry #88

I didn't take any medication today, I met a boy who wouldn't stop talking about how rockets were made and operated, I was too immersed in his passion to notice my alarm telling me to take my pills.

Senku? Yeah, that's his name. I think I'll stick around him more, still have to take my pills even if he makes me feel like they aren't necessary in the moment.

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"What are you doing?"

[Y/N] watched Senku search for her bag, they were alone in the science club, and she wanted to hurry home but the boy insisted on giving him a quick minute.

After a few seconds, he found what he was searching for, the two antidepressant pill bottles with different labels. He shook them in front of her seated figure, a frown etched on his lips.

"Taking Prozac and Zoloft together isn't doing you any damn favors, [Y/N]. It doesn't result in better efficiency, harming you faster than you could ever outheal it." [E/C] eyes barely reacted to him dumping the pills into a vial filled with some sort of acid, the disintegration took only mere moments sizzling up before the liquid settled back to its original composition.

"It doesn't seem like you suffered with serotonin syndrome, no, you got a severe case of emotional blunting. You noticed and continued to take them regularly." Senku scratched off the labels before throwing the empty bottles in the trash, people didn't need to find out who they belonged to. "Remember the response you gave me, [Y/N]? When I asked if you minded my science talks?"

He took steps forward, stopping when he was right in front of her. Scarlet met [E/C], head tilted up to observe him.

"If you ever feel the itch to take a pill come to me instead, I'll fill your head with the brightest colors."

It was easier said than done, the confidence he felt when saying those words settled into raw embarrassment. It was the first time he ever heard her huff out a noise close to laughter, trying to pry his hands away from blocking the red faced scientist.

Senku studied up as many pigeon facts as he could, he truly underestimated how badly [Y/N] was hooked on the medications, asking to hear his voice around every hour. When she needed some science talk, he'd immediately do it, even going as far as sending her constant audio texts throughout the day and night—it was logical, right? Just in case she needed them while he wasn't physically there.

A few more weeks later, her lips would slowly twitch up into very brief smiles, [E/C] eyes gained a small spark, one he noticed in a heartbeat. [Y/N] greeted him and other classmates in the morning, shocking even the teacher when she raised her hand to answer a question. From an outside perspective, it looked like a teen finally coming out of her introverted shell and fitting in more snuggly with her peers.

For Senku? He never thought he'd ever feel this sort of third-party heartbreak, her cries being muffled by his chest, tears streaming down her face and onto him. Yeah, she was healing, but being healed meant all of her suppressed emotions came back in harsh waves. He had been the one to throw out her remedy, so he would ten billion percent be the one to help her get through it all.

"Your mom's last words, weren't they asking for a promise? To live for her and yourself?"

Was a question that had completely broken the thin barrier that remained between them, it was the hardest she cried and honestly, it scared him. Trembling words that were spoken in a hoarse voice letting him know, that in fact, that wasn't the last promise she had asked of [Y/N].

"While she wrote her last entry, I was in the room. I didn't understand why mom had a rope tied around the ceiling fan, or why there was a stool just underneath it." Senku's arms around her tightened, body felt heavy against his as they were seated on his bedroom floor. "I was so excited for her to finish because she told me it would be mine. I didn't know I was practically beaming with happiness that my mother was about to die."

"In her last moments, she was no longer my mom. Screaming at me for ruining her life, for being born…then…then she asked me to promise to take my own life." Hiccups interrupted her words, taking deep breaths to compose herself long enough to tell Senku the memory that haunted her above everything else.

He pulled her head closer to his chest. His eyes began to sting at her words, he regretted bringing up that question.

"When she realized I didn't understand what it meant, whispering a 'like this.' she pushed the stool away. I tried, I tried so hard to stop her legs up while she twitched but I was too weak. My mom died hating me Senku, and I know it wasn't her, but in the end, it was still a part of her." [Y/N] wiped at her face uselessly, the tears kept getting replaced by fresh ones. "If I hadn't been born, she'd be living happily with my dad."

"Mommy…?"

A croaking noise left the woman's body, natural instincts kicking in to try and pry the noose away from her crushed throat. Feet harshly kicked around narrowly missing a frantic [Y/N] who managed to finally wrap her small arms around her mother's legs.

"What's wrong? Mommy?"

Silence enveloped the room, the small girl kept her grip on the now-still body. [Y/N] trembled with tears running down her chubby cheeks, she was scared. Never did her mom ever make any sounds like that.

"Are you sleeping mommy?…goodnight, don't let the bed bugs bite." The small girl sighed in relief, from what? She didn't know. She stayed there for an hour, frowning when her mom was getting cold. [Y/N] turned to the bed and struggled to take the thick blanket, she froze hearing a loud thud, and her head whipped seeing the body sprawled on the floor.

Dried up blood stained the woman's neck, a result of her nails having dug into her neck when desperation caved it. [Y/N] dropped the blanket over her mother, running over to the bathroom, and grabbing a first aid kit.

"You need to be more careful mommy…" [Y/N] closed the wide dull eyes staring right at her, wiping the wounds with the light hum of a lullaby her mom used to sing whenever she healed her up.

Eventually, sleep won her over, the child huddled up to the corpse with a smile on her face. She hadn't cuddled with mom in a long time.

What [Y/N] never could've known, was that her mother, in the truly very last moments had regained full consciousness. Clawing at her cause of impending death, desperate to push her child away from seeing this.

Wait…I…I don't want this anymore please god…not yet..[Y/N]….[Y/N]….

"The if doesn't matter. not anymore." His words were sharp, trying to get them across loud and clear to the girl having a breakdown in his arms. "Her mind hated you [Y/N], not her heart."

"The real her loved you so much, cling onto that." Senku's arms slowly unwrapped her figure, instead raising his hands to cup her puffy face, eyes filled with new tears. The pads of his fingers caressed her cheeks, lightly wiping right underneath her eyes.

"Learn to remember only the happy memories, bad ones will only continue to hurt you and…..I don't like seeing you sad."

He mumbled the last part, despite this very weak attempt he knew she heard it. [Y/N] giggled seeing his face turn a bright red, feeling the heavy chains around her heart disappear bit by bit. Like a fresh breath of air, she had found happiness in Senku.

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"Hurry up, slowpoke."

The morning was too chaotic for Senku, his damn alarm didn't go through, leaving him with literal seconds to get ready.

[Y/N] yawned buttoning her school sweater, she regularly slept over at her boyfriend's house—even learning to deal with Byakuya gushing over how cute they were to him.

Grabbing her backpack she headed out first, leaving the scientist to stumble about still getting his last items. Stuffing the lab coat into his bag he raced for the door, before closing it he glanced at his computer.

There, on the corner of his main monitor, was the post-it note he refused to throw out. It dangled softly with the wind coming from his slightly opened window, scarlet eyes filled with adoration recalling the writing. Words engraved into his brain and heart.

"Do you mind me talking this much about science? Is it okay?"

The question lingered in the air for a brief moment before the note was placed on his desk.

'It's okay, the brightest colors fill my head when you speak."

Taiju and Yuzuriha were excited to hear they were dating, the former teasing him and backing down once his best friend threatened to expose his crush on the brown-haired girl.

[Y/N] finally said her goodbyes to Dr. Bernard, smiling gently when the older man cried his eyes out, apologizing and saying how proud he was. Slowly but surely, the strings that attached her to the past were snapping.

Dad's string was the hardest, she didn't want to get rid of it, only untangle the knots. It was rough, but with time and patience, he agreed to attend therapy and changed to work in the office instead of at home. Relationship getting stronger with each dinner night together.

"Stop spacing out dumbass." Oh right, with a romantic relationship came deeper trust and a back to normal Senku. His hand outstretched waiting for the chemical he asked for three minutes ago, [Y/N] sent him a pout, giving him the requested item.

"You were much nicer before."

"Do you reeeally mind it?" He leaned over to quickly peck her lips, turning his head back to his experiment. "Even when I do that?"

"Dumbass, was it? yeah, agreed."

Senku huffed out a cackle, partially from her comment and the chemical reaction going perfectly. They watched the foam-like substance pour out of the vial, he had already explained what it was but she was too busy focusing on his cute concentrated face.

Her fingers wrapped around his hand, squeezing tightly and letting her head fall on his shoulder.

"My dumbass though." He sucked at mumbling.

︽❀═══❀═══⌘═══⌘═══❀═══❀═══⌘═══⌘═══❀═══❀︾

3700+ years later he created post-it notes for her, receiving that beautiful huge smile he longed to see. (He melted on the spot, not caring about Kohaku or Chome's eyes bulging out their heads from his reaction)

Walking into his lab in the mornings and seeing her words scribbled with encouragement. Yeah, feelings were illogical, but she made it worth it.

To keep herself conscious, [Y/N] recited her mother's journal, only the happy pages this time though.

Upon awakening she slapped Senku abruptly, covering herself with her hands and yelling out. She didn't realize it was him, forgive her.

-

[Y/N]'s last entry before petrification:

Entry #211

I found someone very precious to me. I'll probably follow him till the end of time, hope you don't mind waiting longer for me mom.

and mom?

Rest easy please, I'm not afraid anymore.

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When y'all write any 'sad' stuff, does it make you sad when you read it? I know I'm not good at angst, but reading back to edit it I was stoned faced, so my head was like, yeah no one is gonna give a fuck if I don't. 👩‍🦯

[siriuslyobsessedwithfiction]

What do you mean Nikolai Lantsov was a morally grey character? He was a selfless hero!

Literally Nikolai Lantsov:

Befriended and convinced already disoriented and ignorant Alina that the Darkling was a bigger issue than the First Army and the people turning on Grisha and executing them, a brewing civil war that would most likely happen even if they killed the Darkling, Fjerda and Shu-Han casually invading their territory, etc. That they should abandon negotiations with the Darkling and prepare for war even though the country can't take it. Also, his reasoning that he should become the King? Nikolai: Oh yeah, I'm a bastard with no claim to the throne who has never actually done anything to change Ravka for the better, I was too busy playing pirates. And I just gave the rapist King who doomed this country a nice retirement and more servants to rape, while your friend Genya who he raped gets a trial for attempted regicide, be grateful she will be spared.

"Fouche did not miss the boat: Befriending the revolutionary leader Robespierre, he quickly rose in the rebel ranks. When Fouche arrived in Paris to take his seat at the convention, a violent rift had broken out between die moderates and the radical Jacobins. Fouche sensed that in the long run neither side would emerge victorious."

While Alina and Darkling were watching each other, Nikolai was watching the throne. Darkling got rid of the King and the only legitimate heir for him, so all Nikolai had to do is march into a disbanded army and declare himself a war hero and the King. Nikolai: Maybe we should just abolish absolute monarchy in Ravka because it's 20th century already, some of the countries no longer have it and no one even wants it anymore? Don't be ridiculous. My mother was an oyster and I'm the pearl or something.

"Power rarely ends up in the hands of those who start a revolution, or even of those who further it; power sticks to those who bring it to a conclusion. That was the side Fouche wanted to be on.

At a certain moment, however, he called a halt to the killings, sensing the mood of the country was turning, and despite the blood already on his hands, citizens of Lyons hailed him as a savior from what had become known as the Terror."

Nikolai to the remaining Grisha after the civil war: Right, so I know I used my big guns to slaughter you, the oppressed minority, because you sided with a man who gave you shelter, saved you and was your respected general instead of a girl who was prejudiced against you, never trained, and abandoned you, BUT I need an army. So, here's your pardon and you can once again become serfs to the monarchy who failed you for centuries. Also, the drafting age has been lowered for Grisha and now we're sending unprepared children to missions. Freedom for Grisha? Letting them buy land? Don't be ridiculous. Can't you see I have more important problems to deal with? The Darkling still exists trapped somewhere in the form of a ghost!

If only the author would acknowledge in KoS duology that he has flaws and selfish ambitions. Let him be a complicated character with layers, it's not the end of the world.

[jjmorelikeotp]

This. This is the kind of batshit insanity I'm talking about. Y'all have serious mental issues and while this isn't your FAULT, it is still your PROBLEM. YOU have to solve it. YOU have to take responsibility for the feelings you're feeling and maybe self reflect a little and learn to regulate them like a normal human being because the amount of comments I saw under Hannah Bahng's picture WHICH IS ABOUT HER DROPPING HER MATCHA LATTE WITH A PINK STRAW saying something about Minsung is SO CONCERNING it makes me sick.

The level of literal insanity of people.

If larry stylinson was a thing it would be even worse than what it was back then and it was already a catastrophy, and I say that as someone who shipped them, I admit that. I was a young teenager and they were cute, but even at the time I UNLIKE other people had basic human decency to a) leave other people out of this shit and b) not be delusional or bother THEM with it. Or their girlfriends. Or anyone. c) realize that they don't know me and I don't know them, respect their privacy and not take this shit so batshit serious or invade any of their lives. The list goes on.

HOW can people do this. HOW boring and miserable must your life be if you live in a fantasy world in your head SO much that you cannot separate your...idk? Wishes? Fantasies? From what the people you emotionally depend on WHICH YOU ALSO DO NOT KNOW PERSONALLY? Do you not LEARN basic manners or behavior? Hannah is a real human being, just like Minho and Jisung are.

No matter how many posts or Videos you see or fanfics you read or edits you make, you have NO right to make any assumptions about anything in their life, let alone write bullshit like this.

And OF COURSE it's always the accounts who hide behind some idol's picture who they're also obsessed with.

This is not your fantasy world.

You can ship idols, i get it, some have chemistry. Yes you can wonder if there is something actually going on, that's a natural human behavior to analyze or wanting to understand relationships of other people - but REFLECT YOUR OWN FUCKING EMOTIONS AND THINK BEFORE YOU ACT.

It is NOT serious. Even people who are online a lot do NOT think of these people this way just because they make a funny tweet about it that says they "are going insane" or "want what they have" or "ask for one chance". It is a JOKE.

The internet is NOT REAL LIFE .

Idols are TRAINED PROFESSIONALS who perform and have STAGE personas. Interactions are fanservice. Even if they aren't - YOU DON'T KNOW THEM. YOU DON'T GET TO ACT LIKE YOU INTERACT WITH THEM ON A FRIENDSHIP BASIS JUST BECAUSE YOU FOLLOW THEM ONLINE. YOU DON'T GET TO SAY WHAT YOU "KNOW" ABOUT THEM BECAUSE YOU DON'T.

You watch videos and go to their concerts. You are a customer.

Your desire to have a relationship like theirs or someone who treats you like a kdrama boyfriend is a YOU problem. Stop supporting this "delulu is the solulu" shit just because some rare examples marry their celebrity crushes. Even for them it's nothing like they imagined you can be damn fucking sure of that.

Stop faking ai videos of idols kissing you or each other or ANYONE. Stop reposting rumors and taking everything so damn serious while being dramatic. Stop faking those texts. You never got a text from your idol and I AM SO SORRY TO HURT YOUR FEELINGS but you never WILL.

If I can do that and think like that even as an account who has some otps who are real people then mayyybe you should check your own way of thinking. let me make something very clear, because I'm getting the vibe that we're not all on the same page on this : I ship idols as FRIENDS. hot friends with great chemistry who have a lot of soulmate capabilty and would make an amazing couple. I consume content too. BUT I REALIZE AND AKNOWLEDGE THE DISTANCE THAT IS BETWEEN THEM, AND ME.

EVERYTHING I THINK, I THINK. It has NOTHING to do with them. If I make a comment about them being married, that is a JOKE. I CAN ASSURE YOU 80 and hopefully MUCH MORE THAN THAT percent of us are JOKING. could there be something? Yeah maybe. We DONT KNOW. and it is NONE 🗣🗣🗣🗣🗣 OF OUR BUSINESS.

Fanfiction is a great way to express yourself, but the people who inspire you should be your MUSES. a fictional avatar created by writers to live in a story that is also very much NOT a representation of the actual human being that is being portrayed. Think of that person as an actor playing a role in a movie they wrote the script for, playing a CHARACTER.

NOT REPRESENTING THE REAL PERSON OR REALITY IN GENERAL.

Some of y'all have lost any kind of filter and ability to separate reality from fantasy and fiction. And if your life is like that and you feel like you have to escape reality to deal with it, PLEASE get help. I'm so serious. Many people joke about this online but some who read those jokes don't realize this is such a big issue.

You are projecting part of your problem onto a real person that should not be affected by it.

And there are many reasons for that - capitalism, the media, the companies who keep feeding into these delusions and parasocial relationships, but most of all, things can only be sold when people buy. You are part of the chain and that is not your fault but it is your problem. And that makes it your responsibility to solve it.

It's getting out of hand.

Get inspired. Have a little crush, fine. Be obsessed with some bad for a while.

They can be very important to you I get it. I've been there. I'd love to tell some of them that they helped me through tough times as well.

But that is MY wish. Not THEIR responsibility.

"They are famous and it's their fault if this happens."

It is not a famous person's responsibility to feed into your delusions wtf? This became such a common thought lately...and it's also a marketing strategy. "They themselves talk about their relationship!! They ship themselves!!"

No, THEY actually know each other, spend time together that does NOT happen on a screen, WITHOUT their stage personas activated or the filter or media training they all have. They actually talk about their real relationships because they HAVE one with one another. Yes people even have connections.

Now imagine if you did NOT over interpret every bit or every small cut in a video of them holding hands or touching each other.

"I would NEVER touch a friend like THAT" and then it's a back hug. I'm sorry YOU never had a friendship like that. I have. I WOULD, in fact, touch my friends like that. I would write songs for my friends. I would also make dirty jokes. Dance together even when we're nor dating. Cuddle. Sleep in the same bed. That's just a healthy friendship. (It can be, it does not have to be this way to be healthy.)

Lonely people obsess over celebrities to make up for the lack of social contact they have. There are studies on this. Look it up.

And the entertainment industry knows this and uses it daily.

Don't use them to built a parasocial relationship to escape your actual problems in life.

That kpop idol as well as your comfort character as well as your otp should NOT be your only source of happiness or part of your escaping mechanism. Y'all just don't wanna stop being delusional. Ground yourself and put that phone away. Exercise. They are part of your entertainment in life, THEY ARE NOT PART OF YOUR ACTUAL LIFE. BIG DIFFERENCE.

[darcytaylor]

Navigating the Fine Line Between Curiosity and Respect

The Fine Line Between Speculation and Respect

Fandoms can be a space to connect with others, celebrate creativity, and share our love for art and stories that bring us joy. But sometimes, the line between healthy curiosity and invasive speculation can blur. I want to start by reflecting on my own behaviour.

My Own Reflection

I’m not innocent in all of this. There have been times I’ve written long, drawn-out paragraphs about people I don’t know, trying to be respectful, but I’m sure I’ve added unnecessary dialogue to conversations I probably shouldn’t have.

That’s something I’m working on. I’ve been trying to step back, take more care in what I post, and remind myself that I am in control of what I put out into the world. Speculation doesn’t always land the way we intend it to, and even when we try to be respectful, it can still cross a line.

I know not everyone will agree on what constitutes respectful speculation - opinions differ, and that’s fine. But some boundaries should be common knowledge (even though I recognize that common knowledge isn’t always common). If I can continue writing posts like this, maybe it will encourage at least one person to reflect on their own posts and responses in the future.

Speculation Isn’t Fact

Curiosity is natural in fandoms, but it’s important to remember that curiosity doesn’t always lead to truth. When we analyze photos, interviews, or social media activity, it’s easy to assume we’re uncovering a deeper meaning, but that’s rarely the case.

What It Is: Analyzing photos, interviews, or social media activity can be fun, but it doesn’t make us experts on someone’s life. Public moments are often curated, and their meaning isn’t always what we think.

Why It Matters: Treating speculation as fact can lead to invasive behaviours, create unnecessary drama, and harm the people we admire.

Takeaway: Enjoy the public content shared by celebrities, but avoid building entire narratives around it.

The Problem with "Receipts"

In fandoms, there’s often a desire to “prove” our theories using screenshots, likes, or comments. But piecing together public content doesn’t always reveal the full story and can sometimes cross the line into invasiveness.

What Happens: Fans often compile "evidence" to support their theories, from social media likes to reflections in random items.

The Issue: Public materials are incomplete, curated, and often out of context. Trying to prove something this way can easily veer into invasion of privacy.

How to Adjust: Accept that some things will remain unknown. It’s okay not to have all the answers about someone else’s life.

Boundaries and Real People

It’s easy to get swept up in fandoms and forget that celebrities are real people with boundaries. Treating their lives like puzzles to solve doesn’t just invade their privacy - it can also create toxic dynamics within fandom spaces.

The Overstep: Fans sometimes project narratives onto celebrities or treat their lives like puzzles to solve.

The Consequence: This can lead to toxic dynamics, such as unwarranted scrutiny, divisive debates, or harmful rumours.

The Reminder: These are real people with boundaries and private lives. Treating them with respect means stepping back when curiosity turns invasive.

Bodies Are Not Public Property

One of the most harmful and invasive behaviours in fandoms is speculation about someone’s body. Whether it’s assuming a pregnancy, commenting on weight, or analyzing clothing choices, this kind of speculation reduces people to their appearances.

The way someone looks or dresses is not an invitation for speculation. People have all types of bodies, and changes happen for countless reasons, none of which are anyone else’s business.

Assuming someone is pregnant based on their appearance is fucked up. Pregnancy is a private matter, and speculating about it adds unnecessary pressure and perpetuates harmful norms about how people “should” look.

Using vague terms instead of “pregnancy” doesn’t make speculation any less harmful either. It’s still invasive and entirely inappropriate.

The Problem: Speculating about someone’s body - whether it’s about pregnancy, weight, or clothing choices - is invasive, harmful and fucked up.

Why It’s Harmful: Comments like "She looks pregnant" reduce someone’s identity to their appearance and perpetuates harmful norms.

A Better Approach: Celebrate people for their achievements, not how they look. If someone wants to share personal details, let them do so on their own terms.

Happiness Isn’t Always Visible

It’s easy to interpret a smile in a photo or a laugh in a video as proof of happiness, but those moments are just snapshots. They don’t reveal the full story of someone’s life or emotional state.

The Oversight: Saying, "They look so happy" based on a photo or video assumes we know someone’s emotional state.

The Reality: A smile or a laugh is a snapshot of a moment, not a window into someone’s whole life. People can smile through pain or appear joyful in curated content.

What to Do Instead: Appreciate the joy you see, but don’t let it become proof of anything beyond that moment.

A Reflection on Recent Drama

Lately, this fandom has been filled with so much drama. People are fighting back and forth, belittling others, and trying to prove they’re right while others are wrong. There’s a constant digging into information - into things that probably should just be left alone. It’s become mean, disrespectful, and far removed from the joy that brought us all here in the first place.

It’s not a battleground for personal attacks, invasiveness, or trying to “win” arguments. It’s a space for celebrating the art and the stories that bring us together.

A Call for Respect

At its best, fandoms are a space for joy, creativity, and connection. It’s a way to celebrate the art and people we admire.

Let’s focus on what’s been shared with us and appreciate it for what it is, rather than trying to project meaning onto things that aren’t there. We can engage, speculate, and discuss respectfully without crossing into harmful or invasive territory.

Fandom spaces can - and should - be fun, kind, and thoughtful. Let’s make them that way - for the fans and the people we admire. ❤️

[differenteagletragedy]

I am afraid worms have invaded my brain and they are eating away at everything that is not OUR LIFE SWAP AU

This is an AU in which Baxter is your best friend that moved in town when you were 8, Cove is the boy from the city you met when you were 13, and Derek is the boy who comes into town for the summer when you're 18. This one is a reworking of the original "Mountains" scene.

OG Swap here -- another part here -- another here -- one more here

In the ten years you'd been friends, you and Baxter had rarely gotten into any arguments. You both just got along so well, and he was agreeable to a fault, always so against being confrontational or divisive. And so for all this time, with maybe just a small handful of hiccups, you'd just gone on easily, having a grand time together.

But that night, as he sat on your bed watching you pack your things to go on a camping trip with Derek, he seemed perfectly willing to fight.

Derek had rented the empty condo across the street from you for the summer. He was a year older than you, a college athlete, and he was doing some private training with a coach in the city. That weekend, he had a few days off and he'd wanted to go camping in the mountains. He'd asked you to join him, and you said yes. He was sweet, and it was easy being around him.

Baxter, meanwhile, was being anything but sweet.

"You're the mountain boy," you told him, trying to pull him out of whatever funk he was in. "What do you think, will I need a jacket?"

"And proper shoes," he said quietly, arms and legs crossed tightly. "You'll want to bring something for the weather too, the forecast is calling for rain."

"What would you suggest? Raincoat? Umbrella? Poncho?"

He opened his mouth to respond, then closed it again. You waited, but he wouldn't speak.

"What is it?" you asked.

He looked up at you -- a glare, almost -- and said, "I would suggest you not go at all, but it seems you've made up your mind."

"What's the issue with me going?" you asked, getting even more confused than you had been. "I'm not going to be gone for long, just a couple of days."

"It's not that."

"Then what is it?"

He paused, then, keeping his eyes down this time, said, "You don't know him."

"Derek?" you asked. "Sure I do. We've hung out plenty of times. You've hung out with him too, he's the most harmless guy on the planet."

"But you're going to be going off alone with him, hours away, together in a tent in the middle of the woods," he argued.

"And?"

You studied him, trying to understand why he was reacting so strongly to this. You couldn't see a clear answer on his face, but you did see he was digging his fingernails into his arms.

"Seriously, what's the problem?" you said, sitting down beside him and grabbing his hands so he'd stop. "What's going on?"

Baxter still didn't seem eager to talk about it, but something in him softened when took his hands. He held them gently, running his thumb over your knuckles, and said, "He likes you."

"No, he doesn't," you said quickly, sure that wasn't the case. "We're friends."

"You can't possibly be this oblivious," he muttered, and you yanked your hands away from his.

"If you're going to be rude, then you can leave," you told him, getting angry.

"I'm not trying to be rude, I'm trying to get you to understand that perhaps going off for a jaunt in the woods with the Incredible Hulk that you've known for approximately two minutes isn't the smartest plan."

You'd been getting angry before -- you were fully there now.

"I'm not stupid," you said, standing up again, "and you're being a jerk. What do you think he's going to do, abduct me or something?"

Baxter stood as well, and took a step closer to you. He was so slow to anger, except when he pointed it inward, but it felt like he was staring daggers at you now.

"I just want you to be safe," he said sharply. "I care about you very much, and I --"

"If you care about me, then trust that I can make my own decisions, I'm not some dumb, helpless --"

"I know that!" he said, near yelling, moving closer still. "That's not what I'm saying, you're not listening to me."'

"I am listening to you, you're --"

"You're not," he said firmly, closing the distance between you entirely. "I don't want you to go off with some handsome, well-mannered boy who obviously has feelings for you. That's what I'm saying."

"Why?"

"Because I do know him, and I know exactly how charming he is. I know he wouldn't hurt you, but I ..." he trailed off, running a hand through his hair. His anger was turning into anxiety.

"You what?" you asked, softening. "Please just talk to me, Baxter."

Instead of talking, he took you in his arms. Surprised, you hugged him back. Then you felt his breath, hot against your ear, and he said something so low you barely heard him.

"Please tell me you won't sleep with him," he said.

Appalled, you pushed him off of you. Your anger had returned tenfold.

"What are you talking about?" you asked, the frustration clear in your tone. "I'm not even dating Derek, but it's not any of your business what we do anyway. Why you even care this much?"

He didn't say anything, and he wouldn't meet your eyes again. You knew this phase of the Baxter emotional cycle -- he was shutting down.

"Go home," you said finally.

Without looking at you, he swiftly moved to leave your room. You heard his footsteps go down the hall, and after a moment you heard the front door shut.

Then you heard your phone go off in your pocket.

It was a text from Derek that read, "Hey! Excited for tomorrow?"

"Yep!" you replied. And you were. Baxter wasn't going to ruin that for you.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The next morning, you met Derek at his condo, and you left bright and early. He was all smiles and laughs and brightness, and the drive to the campsite was fun. It was always fun with Derek.

He took the lead when it was time to set up your things, not wanting you to lift a finger as he put up the tent. You did anyway, of course, and it was obvious how much he appreciated it.

It was getting into the evening after it was all said and done, and Baxter had been right -- the rain did come. Derek didn't mind, he just pulled you into the tent and zipped it up until it passed. And with his warm presence so close, you didn't mind either.

You set about situating your sleeping bags and the other things that you'd brought into the tent with you. When you were done, you still heard the rain falling.

"Guess this is it for tonight," Derek said, not sounding too bothered. "Don't worry, it's supposed to be clear tomorrow. It might be muddy, but I think we'll still have fun."

You smiled at him, happy to be spending the time with him. You hadn't known him too long, Baxter was right about that, and you didn't think he liked you, at least not in a romantic way. But he was a good guy. And it felt nice to be here with him.

"So, how do you want to pass the time?" he asked, pulling you out of your thoughts.

"This is your trip," you told him, playfully nudging his shoulder. "You go first."

"Ok," he said, then approached you. Before you knew it, his arms were locked around your waist, pulling you in tight against him. He smiled, looking proud of himself.

"I made my move," he said. "Your turn."

You pushed everything out of your head -- your fight with Baxter, your years-long crush on him that hadn't gone anywhere for so long you thought it never would. Your reservations, your fears, your nervousness, you shoved it all away and put yourself firmly in the moment.

Then you kissed him.

[foxyarchive]

Glass in the Ocean[P1]

After your grandfather's unexpected death, you find yourself temporarily living with your grandmother until she can find someone else to help her run her shop.

You, and everyone else, have always been taught not to trust mers. Even with this information, you find yourself drawing closer to three mers who have kept themselves hidden from the local populace for years, now. The closer you grow to them, the more you begin to learn about them, and the more the truth begins to unravel.

Was originally supposed to be just some steamy fun times with the boys but I got carried away so there's plot now so it may move a bit fast :,) Hoping for weekly updates!

Cross Posted on AO3!

Warnings: Mention of family death, almost drowning(not really though)

Words: ~5.2k

Tags in the comments! Ask to be added to the taglist!

P1 | P2 | P3

The ocean had always been a force of nature you were afraid of testing your luck with. Tumultuous tornadoes or shrieking storms? Terrifying, sure, but nothing that really got the hair standing on the back of your neck quite like the thought of being lost to the yawning expanse of the sea. There was still so much that was unknown about it, after all. Not only that, but waters were extremely dangerous when filled with such a variety of life; Intelligent, too. 

Sharks were an issue to those who couldn’t keep to themselves. After all, they preferred to stay in their own waters, away from beaches where pesky people invading their space roamed and swam. Jellyfish could be terrifying in their own right, too, along with any seals that happened to be swimming too close and feeling a little too irate at those in the waters. All of those animals had one thing in common, though: Intelligence. Although the creatures held enough intelligence to make decisions of their own(and most were much smarter than humans assumed), most of them acted on instinct. They didn’t purposefully go out of their way to ruin your day, unless something spooked them enough to. Perhaps they were feeling a bit peckish as well– It’s only natural. 

No, the ones who purposefully sought a chance to absolutely fuck over your entire life were the mers. Cruel, intelligent creatures that loved to see nothing more than the suffering of landwalkers. They would pretend to play nice with you, inviting you in with the allure of wanting to learn more about yourself or the world beyond sea; Those that could speak the common coast tongue, at least. It was rare to find a mer who could actually speak any coast tongue, besides a couple of keywords; Namely, those were something like, ‘Help!’, or, ‘Save me!’. Another luring tactic, besides their ethereal looks. Mers were beautiful creatures in the eyes of many. Flawless skin with long, sleek, shimmering tails. It could be easy enough to trick humans into coming closer, and those allured enough fell right into their trap. 

Most mers only had their claws, inhuman strength, swim speed, and fangs, though. Thank God for that, as the very rare, known as ‘sirens’, had the ability to actually put some under a spell. Well, scientifically, it wasn’t actually, technically a spell. It wasn’t quite magic, after all, but the song apparently made chemicals in your brain flood enough dopamine to lure you towards the sensation. A heady, hazy mixture of lust and a false sense of security. Any sirens that were caught out were usually killed on sight. Not all mers were immediately killed, after all. Despite the fear humans had of them, and the staunch irritation, there was a certain balance to the ecosystem to be had… And certain prices to pay for killing a member of a pod. 

All in all, everyone was taught not to trust mers. You weren’t excluded from this, but you never found yourself taking all of these warnings too seriously just because you had no desire to go swimming in the ocean. Any beaches made specifically for human points to swim in were always well guarded by eco-disruptors, and even the occasional patrol boat set with a spear. Anything else beyond that, though? It was a risk to swim, especially alone. Luckily, some areas were less densely populated with mers, which made them booming vacation spots. 

You happened to be visiting one of those areas, but not for vacation. It was a more somber occasion, unfortunately, which would be followed by some work. Your grandfather had just unexpectedly passed away, and you were going to attend the funeral. Thankfully, your job allowed you to work from just about anywhere that had internet. Your grandparents had owned a small shop together after they retired to the coastside; A cute little building with beautiful glass blown and shaped figurines on the boardwalk. It had been something your grandmother loved doing, and you knew that closing it was the last thing she wanted to do. However, you knew she couldn’t keep it open herself. So, then, you decided that you’d help her out for a while until she found somebody who could work with her. 

You weren’t an expert in glass blowing or shaping, by any means, but you’d done it a few times before with her. She was going to take on the brunt of the molding, and you knew you’d only really would need to help with holding and blowing when necessary. It was something you could do between your actual job, so why not? 

It had been a long time since you’d visited the coast; At least, right up on the edge. Your grandmother had her own little house right along the coast, as did many others around here. Something your grandfather had managed to snag years ago, when you could practically buy homes with bubble gum and paperclips. The home was well maintained enough, even if it could use a fresh coat of paint and some reinforcing in parts of it(namely the balcony, some of the wood sagged just a bit too much). If you were handy at all, you’d probably offer to take it on as a side project when you weren’t doing glass blowing or your actual work, but you didn’t trust yourself in the slightest. 

The service was early in the morning. You had driven in the night before, shacking up with your grandmother in the spare bedroom, which you’d come to call home for at least the next week or so. Probably longer. After the service, there had been the reception, which left you rather stuffed full of food, tired of mingling with family you hadn’t seen for a long time, and just tired in general. Getting here had taken a lot out of you, and it wasn’t every day you were so social. It was nice to see some family members you hadn’t seen in awhile, and swapped cherished memories of your grandfather. By the time it was all over, though, you were exhausted. Your grandmother was still out, and your immediate family had invited you to come peruse the town with them, but you declined, too tired. Instead, you headed back to your temporary home to take a nap so you could have dinner with them later in the evening. 

Eyeing the bed as you undressed from your funeral wear, a sudden idea crossed your mind. Peering out of the window, you took in the warm, inviting sky. Blue with fluffy, wispy clouds, you decided on a whim that you would do something you hadn’t done in a long time: You’d go sunbathing. This place was free of mers, after all. The beach was totally safe– Maybe except for some crabs and birds, but you doubted anything was going to come pinching or nipping at you. Decidedly, you put on your swimwear, grabbing a towel and large brimmed sunhat. After lotioning, you put on some flipflops, walking down the small pathway carved into the cliff, down to the beach right outside of the house. It was a quick walk, even if a little unsteady due to the uneven nature of the stone’s cutting, but it was worth the price to have easy access to the beach. 

You walked a little ways from the staircase, opting for some privacy should anyone return to the house early. Last thing you wanted was some annoying cousins throwing bits of plants or rocks down on you if you were right by the staircase. There was a decent sized overhang a good distance from the stairs, forming an alcove, and although you didn’t move to lay under it(you were trying to sunbathe, after all), it offered you some sense of security for whatever reason. Maybe due in part to it technically being ‘shelter’. You rolled out your towel with a flourish, putting your flipflops aside as you settled down with a sigh. The ocean was still a good fifteen feet from you, and you doubted the tide was going to be rising up anytime soon. 

Already beginning to feel more sleepy due to the sun’s rays beaming down, you decided now was as good of a time as ever to finally get some rest. Laying back, you popped your earbuds in, flicking on a playlist. After turning it down reasonably enough, you took a moment to admire the gleaming beast in front of you. It stretched out far beyond your vision, sparkles shimmering atop the vast deep blue. The waves were gentle, foam softly curling up onto the beach, free of any clutter or weeds. A serene smile pulled onto your lips, and for a moment, you thought about possibly swimming later. It was something you rarely ever did, ocean or not, so… Why not do it now that you’ll be local for a bit?

That was definitely later, though. Right now? It was nap time. You laid back, placing the sunhat over your face so the sun wasn’t glaring right onto your closed eyelids. You just hoped there wouldn’t be a significant difference in tan from your face on the rest of your body. Any worries about that quickly vanished as you dozed off, lulled by the sound of your music, encompassing heat, and the faint sound of waves rolling in the distance. 

—

You weren’t entirely certain how long you’d been sleeping for. You didn’t wake naturally, either. The reason you had begun to stir was because you felt droplets on your legs. The comparing cold drew you from your slumber as it continued, making you grumble and shift. It stopped, briefly, and you just assumed that there had been some spray carried by the wind. As you began to drift off one more, it happened again. It felt a little more prominent this time; The drops were fatter, and definitely more annoying. Then, there was more, and it managed to spray across your stomach as well. 

That’s when you finally sighed out, deciding that the wind was not on your side. Grumbling, you spread your arms, back arching in tandem in one long, delicious stretch. A moan of appreciation left your lips, and you found the stretch was so good that you were briefly left winded afterwards. Opening your eyes, you peered up at the sun, grimacing as you held a hand up to shield your vision from it. Wait. Weren’t you wearing your sunhat? Did the wind sweep it away? You took a moment to rub your eyes with the heels of your palms, before sitting up, scanning the area when your vision cleared. 

There were two concerning things, immediately. The first was that you did see your hat, beginning to be pulled along further and further out to sea. The second, much more concerning thing, though, was the creature that was partially washed up on the beach. 

“Oh, f-fuck!” You scrambled, hastily, to your feet. Or, well, you tried to. Your ankles had gotten caught up, tangled in your towel, causing you to just plop right back on your ass in the sand. The mer partially lounging let out something that you were certain was a laugh, and you weren’t sure whether to be cross or terrified. A mix of both, perhaps, as your eyes landed back on it. It– He, you were certain– Was partially out of the water, looking quite lazy. Well, if at least one thing was true about mers, it was their beauty. 

You were certain this was the most attractive creature you’d ever laid eyes on. He was lean and muscled, skin lightly sunkissed in a sense where he had a faint tan, but still didn’t seem quite as tan as you’d heard other frequently breaching mers were. His jaw was sharp, and so were his cheekbones, and he had this roguish, very handsome smirk on his face as his eyes met with yours. They were a beautiful, alluring umber, adding to the gorgeously tousled mop of hair atop his head that was a slightly lighter shade. Although all of that was most certainly attractive… You found your eyes trailing downward, taking in the sight of his tail. 

Long and slick, you couldn’t see all of it, as half of it was still submerged in the water. What you did catch, though, was that his scales were a glossy navy blue with a pretty pattern of blue yonder interrupting them. It was then you noticed he had some scales on his ribs, as well as on his hands and cheeks. It didn’t make him look any less unattractive, though, and was it weird that you kept referring to him as attractive? Probably. He was a mer, but damned if he wasn’t hot. You didn’t even notice that his lips were moving until you spied the faint activity out of the corner of your eye. You couldn’t hear him, earbuds still softly playing music. 

“What?” You asked after you popped them out, trying to clear the haze from your mind that you convinced yourself was definitely shock and not anything else. He looked amused, lips curling up further, revealing a set of slightly sharpened teeth. 

“I said, if you take a picture, it’ll last longer.” Oh, God, he’d totally caught you ogling. He didn’t seem to mind, though; In fact, he was practically preening under the attention as he turned onto his back, stretching out his lithe form. His tail curled up from the water, briefly, and you caught sight of the beautiful fin at the end; Long and elegant, but still webbed and strong enough to where you were sure he was a formidable swimmer like his kin. “I can pose, if you’d like.” He turned his head to the side, accentuating his delicious jawbone, and you noticed now his ears were a bit pointed at the end, scaled as well. Your cheeks immediately heated up, and you found yourself stammering, trying to assure him that, no, you weren’t going to take any pictures and you totally didn’t feel super attracted to a mer. 

Before any of that came to your lips, though, a sudden realization hit you: He was talking to you. 

“Y… You speak coast tongue?” You asked, a little astounded. That was so rare for mers, especially in areas where so few of them resided. Apparently, there had been less than five spotted here in the past six years, which meant that there were none. And yet, you happened to find one on your first day here, and he spoke your language? What were the odds?

“No.” He replied, rolling onto his stomach. You noticed a small fin on his lower back that shivered a bit under the ocean’s breeze. He rested his head on his arm, drawing a pattern in the sand with slightly webbed hands as his eyes took you in. He looked like a big, lazy, content cat. Not a care in the world. There was another flash of merriment in his eyes as he noticed your confused expression, before he gave another soft laugh as you realized he was fucking with you. They really were intelligent beings…

“That’s your hat out there. Right?” He asked, pushing himself up with an elbow, jerking his head in the direction of your floating clothing article. Stupefied, you blinked, merely giving a nod of your head. You didn’t trust your words. Was this a dream? “I can get it for you. If you’d like.” You didn’t know how to respond. All you knew was one thing that kept creeping up in the back of your head: Never trust a mer. This was literally all the signs of a mer trying to garner your attention and lure you in, from what you recalled. Looking alluring. Playing nice. Asking questions. This was the biggest red flag if you’d ever seen one. 

Clearly, he could read the hesitation on your face, and he let out something between a scoff and a laugh. “I don’t have to. I was just offering. Is it so wrong to want to be nice?” Your gaze hardened a bit, and you brought your legs up to your chest, wrapping your arms around them. He was still a good fifteen feet away from you. Even if he tried to advance on you, you were certain that being able to run was in your books faster than he could drag himself ashore to you. Well… Mers did have inhuman strength, so… Maybe that wasn’t quite out of the books. 

“Okay. Go get it.” You finally agree, suspicion still heavy in your gaze as you take in his facial features. He looked a bit smug, before rolling over once, and then slid back into the water. Once he was settled in it, he was gone with a whisper, and all was quiet once more. Your gaze found your hat, much further now than it was before. Nothing was happening… Nothing until you blinked, and it was gone. You looked around for any sight of the mer, spotting nothing until you saw the faint glimmer beneath the waves. He broke water as quiet as a mouse compared to the rolling of waves in the distance and on shore, your now sodden sunhat in his hand. You frowned a bit at the sight. “You had to drag it underwater?”

He seemed wholly unimpressed with your comment, frowning himself, a faint look of irritation crossing his features. “You’re welcome.” Is what he replies with, scoffing as he holds it out in front of him whilst he pulls himself back onto the shore. The perturbed look on his face is quickly replaced with another grin as he spies your hesitation. “...If you want your hat back, you need to come get it from me.” He purrs, waving the sodden article in your direction. You grimace, feeling annoyed at the proposition. Of course. That was his game. 

“I’m not an idiot, you know.” You bite out, and he sets the hat down, tilting his head to the side. He has this adorable curl that crosses over his forehead with a few other strands. 

“I never implied you were.” He responds, smiling peacefully, and you glower. 

“Obviously you think I am, though. As soon as I come over there, you’re just going to drag me under with you. No shot.” You insist, and he clicks his tongue, offering an unimpressed roll of his eyes. 

“Really? Come on. I wouldn’t do that.” He insists, rounding his eyes in what you assume is supposed to be a more ‘innocent’ manner. “Why would I go all the way out to retrieve your lovely hat, only to immediately kill you? I think you’ll look lovely in it, wet or not.” He purrs again, curling his lips up once more, and your scowl deepens. 

“That was hardly a swim for you.” Comes your flat reply, body prickling in uncertainty. “It'd probably be the easiest meal you’d ever get.”  “Please, sweetheart. I wouldn’t want to eat you; I’ve already had lunch.” He narrows his eyes, and you shudder softly against your will as you notice the more carnal look in them. “...Unless, of course, you’d like to provide me with a treat. That would be probably the best ‘thank you’ I could get.” You consider that he really is talking about ravaging your body, until you realize his eyes are pointedly staring at your crotch between your pulled up legs. Then, his eyes travel to your lips, before meeting your own. A sudden heat travels through your body that leaves you holding a breath. He takes the opportunity to shift forward a bit more, and that immediately brings you out of your stupor. 

“J-Just throw the hat forward! Please…” You ask, voice trembling a bit from the combination of soft lust and fear crowding your mind. “Thank you for getting it, but I… I can’t… I don’t trust you. Surely you understand.” You insist, one of your hands coming down to grip the towel. His lips come to form a thin line, and you’re not so certain the dark look in his eyes is as lustful as it was before. Your time is definitely up, now, and you quickly scramble to your feet. You grab your earbuds, phone and towel, beginning to walk back the way you came, but his voice stops you. 

“Wait!” Looking back, you see that he’s tossed the hat a couple of feet from him, and he’s pulled himself back just a bit. His tail is further in the water than before, he’s peering at you, gaze brighter than before, but definitely more unreadable. “...I understand your distrust.” He relents, and you hesitate for the third time this meeting, uncertain if you should take the bait. You still had the advantage on land… Is your cute hat really worth risking your life, though?

You look back at him. He’s just watching you now, a sort of benign curiosity over his own features. Maybe… He was just as curious about you as you were him. Clearly he’s had contact with humans before, though. He wouldn’t be able to speak otherwise. This is all a trap. You convince yourself, body stiff as you consider what to do next. You could just order another one… But it was perfect for here and now. You could just buy more in town, though… 

You consider that your life isn’t worth risking over a hat. And yet, you find yourself placing your items on the ground, your feet slowly inching towards the wet article. The mer watches your every move, head low to the ground, and your eyes are following the way his tail twitches beneath the waves. You look at his hands. He’s rested his head on them now. That assuages some fears… Maybe he really wasn’t going to do anything. Was he so bored that he just wanted to see you closer? Use you for amusement? Perhaps. That wasn’t the most egregious sin, though… 

You’re finally close enough to the hat, slowly bending down to reach it, as if trying not to spook him. He doesn’t move. You grab the brim, slowly bringing it up. For a moment, you find yourself just looking at him, and he’s looking at you. He’s even more gorgeous close up, now that you notice all of the little freckles and imperfections that dot his face. The only other ‘imperfection’ you could find, if you could call any of it imperfect(which you really couldn’t), was the small scar gouged into his forehead.

For once, instead of fear or any sort of weird arousal, you feel… Awe. This dangerous, beautiful creature sits not five feet from you, drinking you him as you do him. He has a sort of boyish charm to him that is enough to make you test your own willpower and suppress yourself from reaching forward to brush your fingers through his hair. Comb back those hairs that curl in front of his eyes, brush your thumb across the beautiful scales on his cheek bones… 

Seems you’ve been enthralled, and you’re not quick enough to move as he suddenly lunges and grabs onto your wrist. You cry out in surprise, molasses quickly turning into a rapid stream as you try to pull away, but he’s strong. Dear God, is he strong. “I helped you. The least you can do is return the favor.” He finally speaks up, and that look of wonderment that was in his own eyes has vanished. He looks smug like before, smirk planted as he tugs you a bit closer. 

“P-Please, let go!” You cry out again, trying to wrench free to no avail. 

“I just want one, little thing, then I’ll let you go. I promise.” He insists, leaning up a bit, his eyes flashing with that same dangerous intent as before. When he was looking at you like you were his next meal. His ‘treat’. Another shudder wracks your body against your will, and you bite your lip. “Just a kiss. Only one. That’s it. Please?” He tilts his head to the side, eyes rounding a bit into something akin to a puppy. Oh, no… That was awfully convincing, especially with that heat still in his eyes. 

Okay. You had been a fool once, shame on you. But twice? You were not going to die here today. Most certainly, no kiss was worth dying for, and you knew better than to trust his words, now. His grip was painful, only because he was strong, but he didn’t claw at your arm or wrist, thankfully. 

“...If you let me go, I’ll kiss you.” You finally said, quietly, heart thundering in your chest. He seemed to contemplate this for a moment, eyeing you to try and find any deception. Finally, he pushed himself up a bit more, giving a small incline of his head in agreement. Slowly, he released your hand, letting it come to rest in front of his chest. You were so very grateful that the Lord had granted you the strength to go through with your plan and resist that very kissable face. 

As soon as he released you, you turned on foot and fled. Or, that’s what you tried to do, but he was so fast. He grabbed onto your ankle, jerking you back, and you fell with a painful gasp. A wheeze left your chest as you struggled for breath, but you realized you needed to struggle now to not be pulled into the water. He was beginning to drag you, laughing all the way, and you shrieked in fear, desperately trying to claw your hands into the sand. You were so, so stupid. Why the fuck would you do that? Why did you have to go back for your hat? Why did you have to stand there and admire him? 

“H-Help! P-Please, no! Let me go, let me go!” You shrieked, feeling hot tears begin to roll down your face as fear bloomed through your entire being. You tried to kick and pull, but he was easily able to evade your swats or keep you held tight. Whereas before, with your wrist, he was being careful, he most certainly was not with your ankle. You felt his nails digging into you, and you realized that this probably really was the end. Mers had the capability of releasing a neurotoxin that could easily make your mind and body go numb if enough was administered, and you were almost certain that was happening to you as you felt a cold flush through your system. You didn’t think it was the waves hitting your body, after all. 

“Stop! S-Stop, please, I– I’ll s-stay away, I promise!” You sobbed, feeling the water now up to your chest as you thrashed and pleaded with the mer. You wondered if he’d kill you here on shore, devour the best bits of you and leave your carcass to float along. At least then your family would know what happened to you. Perhaps, instead, he’d drag you further into the water, play with you until you just couldn’t fight back anymore, then he’d pull you down with him and drown you. Would it hurt? What did drowning feel like? All of these morbid thoughts floated into your mind as you fought and twisted and tried to claw at him, but nothing was working. You sputtered as water entered your mouth and nose, and your sob was bubbling as you once again shrieked hopelessly for help. 

This is it. There was a reason you didn’t you never wanted to fuck with the ocean, and yet you did. You had entirely fucked around, and now were finding out. What a fool you were. The shore was becoming further away, and you couldn’t let out anymore loud calls for help with water constantly invading your mouth, but you noticed he wasn’t drowning you. So… He was playing with his food first, then. Maybe you could do something about it. Catch him off guard. Go for the gills, or the eyes, or–

There was a whoosh beneath your body. Another bubbling shriek of terror left your lips, before something emerged behind you. There was an instant chittering of furious clicks that caught your ears, exchanged back and forth as you were tugged and pulled, and you suddenly realized there were two of them, now. Fuck. How many more were there? 

You expected to feel the rip and tear of your flesh, likely being fought over for food, but instead found the pressure around your ankle disappearing. You flounder, still feeling too paralyzed with fear and a hearty dose of adrenaline to make your limbs coordinate with what you wanted to do. There was a hiss, before you cried out again as an arm was wrapped around your torso, pulling you to another slick body. You fought and kicked, but all you stubbed your foot into was pure muscle of another mer tail. 

“Stop fighting me, please! I’m going to help you back to shore.” The voice piped up, sounding both a mixture of weary and fearful itself. 

“I can take her back; I was just messing around! I swear, I wasn’t gonna kill her!” Came the other mer’s voice, and although you noticed they sounded eerily similar, you pinpointed that one as the one that had dragged you. You fought and pushed against the mer holding onto you, but you did notice that you were being brought closer to the shore. You paddled as well, partially in an attempt to get away, partially to try and go faster, you figured. There was no response from one you were close to, but there didn’t need to be one. Soon, you felt your feet hit the sand, and you instantly pushed yourself away from him. 

It was a big of a slog to get through the water at your hips, but you managed probably the fastest you had ever done. You almost tripped once, but finally made it back to shore, chest heaving and ankle burning as you glanced behind you. You could see the mer that had dragged you out in the distance, a look of something akin to frustration on his face. What shocked you the most, though, was the mer that had taken you to shore. 

He looked just like the other mer. Identical down to the eye and hair color and facial features. The only real difference you could find was that he looked just a bit more pale, and his overall features were somehow a bit softer, his hair not as wild. You couldn’t see his tail, but from what you could gleam from the scales on his cheeks, they were a lighter blue. He watched you, a concerned look on his face as you backed away. Tears were still streaking down your cheeks, and you fought to keep walking, trembling as he swam a bit closer. “I’m sorry for what he did. If you’d let me explain–” He begins to speak, but you’ve most certainly had enough. 

You turn, leaving your stupid hat behind that got you into this mess in the first place. You have the forethought to grab your towel and phone, because they’re far enough away. You don’t put on your flipflops and don’t feel your earbuds tumble out of your towel as you hurry down the sand. There’s more angry clicks in the background which sends a chill right up your spine, but you don’t look back, even as they recede into the distance and vanish.

[chentailai]

Last night, I revisited the 2006 comics because I wanted to buy some custom Jaime merchandise. Through this, I reflected on an important point: why I fell in love with Jaime at first sight and why I adore him so much.

The Jaime from the 2006 comics gave me a sense of "pure authenticity." This wasn’t due to the artist’s style but rather a kind of purity in his essence. Yes, he was incredibly endearing. Perhaps the Jaime in the 2006 comics wasn’t as overtly cute as in *Batman: The Brave and the Bold* or *Teen Titans v3*, but it’s clear that in his own series, his personal charisma shone through, unlike in other works where he was relegated to being just a cute sidekick with "typical teenage hero tropes."

At the same time, the 2006 comics also showcased a "pure kind of cuteness" and a "pure kind of foolishness"—a lovable quality born from a certain naive charm. In short, it was a very special kind of endearment.

Okay, I’m rambling. Here’s the main point.

I’ve mentioned more than once that I see Jaime as water, like a stream—a pure, flowing brook. He’s not perfect, not grand, not breathtakingly beautiful. He’s ordinary. He’s just a small stream, flowing ceaselessly, perhaps toward death or some other end. Even as he passes over sharp rocks and rugged terrain, he keeps flowing, steadfast and alive. His family undoubtedly gave him a good upbringing, filled with love and support, nurturing a kind, brave, and resolute heart. Everything about him is beautiful in its simplicity and authenticity. He doesn’t suffer from the common flaws of虚伪的道德 (hypocritical morality) or腐败的内在 (corrupt inner nature). Instead, he exudes a natural, unpretentious kindness. He’s an ordinary boy, a superhero who never strays far from his family or loses touch with reality. These two identities are harmoniously balanced from the very beginning. Keith Giffen gave me a sense of "this is how it should be," unlike many modern writers whose understanding of "justice" feels shaky. The family dynamics created by Keith Giffen and the other writers feel so real that sometimes I feel like Bianca is my own mother. (I must say, the Chinese translation of his name, "海洋梅花" [Ocean Plum Blossom], influenced my first impression, making him seem more delicate and soft, yet still strong and not fragile. Also, I feel the story declined after issue 26, and without translations, I couldn’t bring myself to keep reading.)

Few people appreciate the beauty of the ordinary. Almost everyone admires genius, wealth, or exceptional talent. But people forget that even the most extraordinary individuals are, at their core, just human beings who, through effort and the passage of time, become "extraordinary." "Mediocrity" and "ordinariness" are not the same. When I saw Jaime resolutely take on his responsibilities and dedicate himself to learning, it struck me as strange. He hesitated less when choosing to save lives, becoming decisive in those moments.

He will face rainy days, but he will rise again. The first time, his father helped him. The second time, perhaps he won’t need it. Water is a powerful force—it adapts to its environment, allows a bug to invade its life, and (most of the time) handles it with grace. Can you shatter a pool of water? Impossible. But a high-pressure water jet can take your life, if it so desires.

The color of water is faint, but not nonexistent. Unlike other characters with overly distinct personalities, he is simply kind and gentle, sometimes lost, like any good person. But when that faint exterior suddenly cracks, revealing a fierce, extraordinary side, his charm skyrockets. The writers excel at creating this sense of contrast. For example, the time he tricked Batman out of a million dollars—it’s hard to believe it was something Jaime, the "good boy," would do (it still makes me laugh).

I particularly love seeing Jaime roll his eyes. His personality feels so real, even though he rarely shows this side. If someone always gave you the impression of being gentle and amiable, and then one day they revealed a ruthless, aggressive side, I think I’d be utterly captivated. It’s like a cold, aloof cat suddenly running to you, scared and seeking comfort (ah, that’s Khaji Da).

He can be warm or cold, malleable and understandable (really?). He is a spring stream, flowing gently in a sunlit place, radiating his own light and beauty.

I had more thoughts, but I’ve forgotten them. I love him so much that it borders on hate (a normal psychological defense mechanism). In any case, my Jaime is the beautiful legend of El Paso, and I will never give up on my dream of seeing him in a bunny girl outfit!!!🔥✨👯‍♀️ My Jaime is the most beautiful! 🌹🌹🌹No matter how ugly the artist draws him, he is the most beautiful! That incomparable, unique beauty will forever flow in my heart! 🥰🥰🥰Jaime! My postmodern little Virgin Mary of the 21st century! 😫🙏🙏🙏🙏✨Take me with you! My wife! 💙💙💙💙🖤🖤🖤🖤How can I live without you, Jaime! ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥My little Ocean Plum Blossom!!! 💗💗💗Jaime, I will love you forever, Jaime!!!💖💖💖💖💖

[azuls-spare-contracts]

Random thoughts and headcannons part 5

btw some are made by rayne so heres the symbol for the ones that rayne made "✦" and also ones we both made together "✲"

➱ The twins for sure have two sets of jaws just the 2nd one is a litter more towards their throat but it is still visible if they were to unhinge their jaw

➱ Floyd can stuff things into his mouth and hide them in his cheeks like a chipmunk, like he can hide a whole concha or an entire tomato in there (floyd has chubby cheeks like a chipmunk)

➱ Jade probably needs to eat a lot because he'd probably pass out if he doesn't, this causes azul or floyd to randomly carry anything thats very sweet or high in sugar at all times for just in case if Jade starts to get light headed they have something to give him like gummies or an entire tangerine ✲

➱ Floyd listens to Olivia Rodrigo and One Direction

➱ Floyds got mommy issues ✲

➱ Ruggie and Jamil probably hang out in the most random of places like once they got caught hanging out inside the vents and once inside a literal tree, and the reason they hide and hang out in such strange places is just because they talk shit together and also don't lie people invading their privacy. (jamil has probably met ruggie's grandmother personally at some point)

➱ One time Ace referred to Octotrio as "Alvin and the chipmunks" or "Alvin and his chipmunks"

➱ The octotrio has once recreated a scene from Alivn and the chipmunks as a joke during a sleepover specifically they attempted to recreated the club song scene from one of the Chipmunk movies (i forgot which one) they also recreated the bad romance one as well as the talent show scene from one of the movies. (this was floyds idea but they were all in a good mood and agreed, azul fucking fell trying to do the handstand and the spin jump)

➱ Jade listens to Fiona Apple (friends suggestion)✦

➱ Azul clutches his pearls super often around floyd because he's always so close to snapping and straight up crashing out over floyd

➱ Once the twins both tried to see who could make azul crash out first (floyd won)

➱ Azul once told Silver how people eat birds and it made silver pass out from shock

➱ silver doesn't know exactly what mlp is and so when people talk about it she thinks that its literal little ponies that people own.

➱ Floyd once broke Spaghetti noodles in front of Azul causing Azul's Italian instinct kicked in and he punched Floyd (like what octopus do randomly) ✦

➱ Azul gets no bitches because in a way he and Idia are like cut from the same cloth just Azul tried to deny it but in the end both him and idia and celibate (No hate to either i thin they're both funny as fuck just we gotta lowkey be real here, if they were real and living they'd honestly get no hoes. ✲

➱ Jade and Floyd are Autism vs ADHD, Jade is Autistic and floyd has ADHD, and yes they do have medication to help with it and azul gives it to them because he doesn't trust them to take it themselves, floyd rarely takes his because he hates the taste (he chews on the pills).✦

➱ I feel like some of the students have drank underage because well they are teens majority of them, so they probably got curious (lie most teens do at some point) and i will admit it i feel like the twins have a high alcohol tolerance, azul can tolerate alcohol but not as much as the tweels probably because of genetics and they probably have some secret liquor cabinet in Azul's office and there's a good chance there are certain days in the lounge where they secretly sell alcoholic beverages, azul keeps the super expensive alcohol in his office though and he accesses it from the connections he and the tweels have.

➱ I feel like if azul was ever shown Ouran High School Host Club he'd feel so inspired seeing how profitable it could be and he'd end up making a high school host club for NRC,and he'd use the lounge as the setting to not only get profit from drinks and food he'd also get even more profit because he'd use the twins as "Hosts" and the twins honestly would probably enjoy this, and azul would also hire other students for this. this "Host club" would be more like a friends kind of thing where its just they'd hang out with the workers and overall they vibe.

➱ Cheka sometimes braids leonas hair but does dumb hairstyles.✦

➱ Floyd once broke his leg parkouring and jade broke his arm once after he slipped mountain climbing ✦

➱ Jade has a concept for a gacha game thats just mushroom fairiesand he has it prepared for of azul ever wants to make a gacha game for profit ✦

➱ idia plays minecraft with over 400 mods

➱ Idia and Azul play those BuzzFeed quizzes and those magazines tests and they once too the am i gay quiz and both got gay or bisexual I hope you all liked this very long Random thoughts and Hcs post!!

[monsterblogging]

Pacific Rim: Ascension is pretty good, actually

So yeah, Pacific Rim: Ascension is a prequel novel to Pacific Rim: Uprising, and based on that you might think it wouldn't be that great. But IMO, it's very much worth reading for a number of reasons.

The author was clearly very familiarized with the lore developed for PR1, and actually integrates a lot of it into the story in a way that gives it a sense of depth, reality, and drama that Uprising and The Black lack. Characters are also generally written well (and Hermann is written so wonderfully well), and Vik and Jinhai's backstories are, in my opinion, extremely engaging. And if you're one of the people disappointed that the Kaidonovskys and Cherno Alpha didn't get more screentime, you are absolutely in for a treat.

For the lore-oriented fans, the author's clear attention to detail means this book is actually a fairly reliable source on what was originally developed for PR1, including Jaeger details and character histories. It does include at least one piece of outdated data (Romeo Blue having three legs), and the story claims that drift compatibility is something you either have or don't have (something we know isn't true from Beacham's posts), but there's no reason to dispute, say, Vulcan Specter having a drill weapon or Shaolin Rogue having an extra-aquatic design.

The book also gives us lots of wonderfully bizarre kaiju. The somewhat frequent mentions of tentacles (forbidden by del Toro) suggests that these are based on very concepts, or were invented by the author himself. Either way, they are absolutely great monster designs. If anything, some of the things these monsters have going on make the movie's kaiju look a little boring.

That said, it's not perfect. Hermann's cane is never mentioned at all, and - well, the rest of the issues are spoilers, so I'll put them under a cut.

We learn that some people have apparently been using Pons technology to implant programming into people's minds - a detail which ultimately has no relevance on the plot, and feels weirdly edgy for Pacific Rim. And I know it's a common trope in sci-fi, but its proximity to right wing conspiracy theory bullshit makes it... not exactly my favorite trope. I don't know whether its presence in sci-fi is really super problematic, but in real life belief in this kind of thing has been used to basically justify witch hunting. Like, I understand the dramatic value here, but at the same time, people still living today were put on trial and even sent to jail based on belief that this was a real thing. Like I'm not going to tell you that this is an Objectively Bad Trope, but it's definitely a trope with a lot of terrible baggage.

The story also gives an explanation for how it was worked out that kaiju blood explodes when exposed to rare earth minerals, and it's pretty ridiculous. Supposedly a kaiju's blood rained down on a microchip factory, and the factory exploded. Accepting this detail means accepting that nobody's phones, laptop computers, or other electronic devices never came into contact with kaiju blood splatter or mist, and that kaiju blood never splattered into a damaged conn-pod. This is the kind of thing that should have been observed fairly early in the kaiju war, not several years in.

Also the PPDC in this book apparently just classifies information for No Real Reason, like the fact that a particularly violent kaiju cult tried to destroy the world. Like you'd think that this would be the kind of thing they'd want to broadcast, for reasons of "hey look how awful our political enemies are."

Also lol the fact that PPDC records pilots' drift memories and just peek into them is creepy. Like it doesn't exactly make Mako Mori look good when we learn she's been invading cadets' privacy like this, ya know?

But yeah like, I think it's definitely worth a read. The book shows a lot of imagination and makes good use of Pacific Rim's worldbuilding. Even if you don't like Uprising, you'll probably still find something to enjoy about it.

[darkcacaocookieandfriends]

📔(chco werehound write something about licorice)

I feel a bit confused today (I know, what else is new, but listen! I can write about what I want!). Even after everything's been done and over, I still think about the Princess Trials. Not about the last reasons I wrote about (okay maybe that) but there's something else I think about. It invades my mind every so often and I guess I just feel too weird about it to really talk about it. So, I'm just gonna write it here and hope no one reads this while I'm not around...and if I find out they did I'll make them flatter than they were before! That and...well, I'll die of embarrassment and I really don't feel like explaining myself! I gotta wonder...is it weird that my feelings are changing....Well, about Licorice Cookie? When I first started working for him, it was all about the power, being useful! I got the be the brute force and kick some dough! He was kind of a jerk, but I knew what I was getting into. I was tough! I could take any tongue lashing he gave me! Besides, I was there to protect a puny little cookie! Already proven what my worth was, no matter how much he screamed at me for failing. Wasn't just my fault, either...But, that's not why I'm writing this! When you get to stay around a dessert long enough, you get to know them a lot better. Deep down, he's just someone who wants to be respected and noticed. Can't say I don't feel the same. It's nice having validation. Makes us two peas in a pod in a lotta regards. It's why I try to treat him respect. I'm no Dark Enchantress, but I know what it feels like when it seems like the world is against you. I mean, everyone wants at least one guy in their corner, right? That brings me to the point I'm trying to make. Even if it was all fake, maybe I thought it was nice. I got to be a princess, if only for a little while. Got to have a beautiful dress and rub shoulders with the high class flatsters. Even got to have a boyfriend...and maybe that's the issue. It could be the hopeless romantic in me, but I liked being treated like that. Liked being called his 'darling'...at first it was something I went along with. We were on a mission, after all. But after a while it felt nice, a little too nice. Made my heart flutter a few times and I felt strange. I argued with myself. How I was supposed to just pretend we were dating? That it wasn't real, but maybe the idea of being the one who made him happy made ME happy, too. It's all I wanted, to protect him and see him smile. To do good by someone for once instead of getting my crumbs handed to me. In that moment, I saw a different side of him, one I rarely saw through his never-ending ambitious trials of getting a single head-pat from Dark Enchantress. Maybe I sorta wished I could be someone that made him happy, to show him the praise I think he deserves. Maybe I wanna make him feel like he's worth something, and that he's got nothing to prove to anyone because he's already great! Maybe I... Well... I won't say that. It'll just make things worse. It's probably wrong to feel this way. I'm...well...I'm a cake monster and he's a cookie. I'm his servant. Why would he ever see me as anything but? Why am I thinking this way about a dumb, flat cookie? Why does he make me eat my words about every time I ever looked down on cookies? Why does he make me feel all warm and happy when I'm around him? Why does it make my heart flutter when he calls me stupid pet names? My head's just a mess of thoughts and I don't know how to get rid of them. Now I just feel weird when we're together...I think I liked it better when we were acting. Wished I could have just stayed in that moment, as delusional as it may sound.

In the end, that's all it'll ever be....Even I know that...

[snaggletoothedbastard]

i did this a while ago and now i'm redoing it from a new perspective

rating the tma fears on how likely i am to serve them

(not how much they scare me but how much i vibe with them)

the eye

i do like to Know Things

the idea of knowing Everything about someone though......and the idea of someone knowing Everything about me........nahh i could not handle that shit

telepathy sounds appealing because i very rarely understand people and i'm always paranoid about the idea of being lied to HOWEVER i would feel way too guilty about invading people's privacy

plus all that Knowledge sounds overwhelming

3/10

the stranger

the stranger has a weird thing about skin

i hate skin it's gross and uncomfortable (i have eczema and sensory issues <3)

i find the uncanny valley rather terrifying but i also feel like i exist in the uncanny valley because i'm autistic and regularly feel like a Thing pretending to be a person so i do kinda vibe with that

i think i'd get on well with the anatomy students honestly

6/10

the corruption

going back to the subject of skin, jane prentiss' statement fucks me up because the whole thing about itching is Too Relatable

eczema genuinely feels like there's something crawling around under my skin sometimes

i don't really vibe with bugs though

i do want to be consumed by what loves me

5/10

the desolation

honestly this seems like one of the most fun fears

you just set fire to things

watching things burn is strangely satisfying

the cult of the lightless flame are fucking pretentious though, i wouldn't join them

8/10

the hunt

i hate being chased and i hate chasing things

i do like to bite things though

1/10

the vast

this is the most chill fear i think

but i don't think i would get yoinked by it because i don't do much stuff that involves heights

and when i do i don't particularly enjoy it

it's not my biggest fear though.......i'm kind of indifferent to be honest

1/10

the dark

i am scared shitless of the dark

i have visual snow and sometimes it makes me see shapes in the dark and that freaks me the fuck out

i am an adult and i still sleep with a nightlight fuck you

1/10

the lonely

the lonely fucks me up especially right now because i'm currently in a state of self-loathing and feeling like i'm too different from everyone to connect to them and that is a very lonely feeling and i despise it

peter lukas can get fucked

i want this fear to stay the fuck away from me and i would actively avoid it if it was real but i'm so messed up at the moment that it might overpower me

4/10

the slaughter

i often want to fight someone but no-one will fight me because i'm small and weak and i have sensory issues and i will scream if someone touches my shoulders

i think i like the idea of fighting because i love deep pressure so if i was wrestling someone and they just like pinned me down i would probably be fine with that

and i know getting stabbed or cut or shot would hurt like hell but there's something weirdly enticing about it.........jesus christ i'm not okay

i am also unfortunately not very good at managing anger. i'm getting better but it's still hard. i tend to become self-destructive when i'm angry rather than other-people-destructive

7/10

the extinction

nope

1/10

the end

i still fear death

i fear other people's deaths more than my own

especially because my best friend has been slapped in the face by his own mortality several times and sometimes jokes about it and every time he does i'm just like "dude please don't die"

my obsession with skeletons and being a skeleton has helped me feel more calm about death though because when i die and my flesh decomposes i'll be a skeleton and that's what i want

2/10

the flesh

please let me fuck up my body with no consequences pleeeease

if i can't be a skeleton i want to be the most disturbing creature imaginable

i mean the idea of being bred for meat is obviously terrifying

but the Vibes.......this fear could have been so good for exploring gender and disability and i'm a little sad they didn't do that but i still like it

9/10

the spiral

i am not a who, archivist, i am a what

i'm already insane, the spiral would just make the insanity sexy

i'm not a very good liar but no-one's perfect

i am incomprehensible and mentally unwell and if the spiral takes away the ability to feel shame about that then sign me the fuck up

10/10

the web

i could manipulate people if i really wanted to

i say, having never actually tried

i'm not a fan of spiders

i am a control freak but i generally just like to be in control of myself, like i hate being told what to do but i also hate telling other people what to do y'know?

4/10

[lumiereandcogsworth]

okay kinda random bc I haven’t seen this season but I saw queen charlotte gifs awhile back and someone was trying to stop the king from being by his wife’s side during child birth (I think ??) and now I’m curious if anyone could’ve stopped Adam in that scenario? I feel like no, absolutely not but 👁️

ooooh my gosh dude okay. okay. OKAY. OKAY!!!!!!!!!!! you have no idea how long, how many Years, i agonized over this topic. AGONIZEDDDD. the constant flipping around between historical accuracy and wanting them to share That Moment and knowing both of their personalities and OH MY GOSSSSHSHDHDJFNEKFJSKDJEKDJDK. alright. let’s get into it.

the fact of the matter is: i have put all 3 of their children’s births into my canon (not Graphically obviously but. the days have been recorded and are on ao3 🫡) so i can explain my thoughts quite thoroughly on how those three magical days went down. i know them quite well!

to answer your question, firstly, (and that scene in queen charlotte IS so good and i love that mini series IMMENSELY) no, there is absolutely nothing that could stop adam from getting to belle. proof of that is right in the movie, with that man doing gymnastic-level LEAPS across the castle roof while being shot at in order to get to his girl!!! so, no absolutely not. he WILL get to belle if needed.

THAT BEING SAID!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! adam actually is not present in the room at renée’s birth! there were Reasons i ended up doing this. (and, just to say, i am still REALLY proud of this fic. i had been thinking about that day for years and then it all finally came to me one random night and i am immensely proud of it. plleeeaaassse read it if you find the time 🥹)

anyway, here’s the thing about adam and belle. as MUCH as those two love each other, as MUCH as they always want to be near each other, and invading each other’s space, i really and truly don’t think this particular (albeit, magnificent) event would strike them as something to be shared together. YES, there ARE plenty of recorded points in history when the man, against the status quo, stood by his wife while she had their children. queen victoria is probably the most famous example. and while i DID factor this in, VERY heavily, i just couldn’t shake the feeling that adam and belle wouldn’t be this way. it may seem counterintuitive to some people but listen, they’ve lived in my head for so many years, i just don’t question them much anymore. especially when it’s sort of Against the obvious fluff that i would love to see, ya know?? but here were my thoughts:

i think belle, having lacked a mother-figure and just like, girlhood & womanhood community in general all her life, would sort of Want this day to be a very, well, womanly experience. she only wanted midwives, there wasn’t even a male doctor present (which would have been weird for a queen!!!) and i think she was very intentional about this decision. she’s HAVING A BABY! and she hates that her mother isn’t here to help her through it and i think she’d just really want to take control and make it as special, in this regard, as possible.

(also adam definitely made sure she had the TOP midwives in the country. he vetted them Thoroughly)

and! i really feel like adam would not have particularly Wanted to be present. OBVIOUSLY HE WANTS TO SUPPORT HIS WIFE AND BE THERE FOR HER OH MY GOSH!!!!!!!!!!!!! but, given HIS upbringing, i don’t think he would actually genuinely REMOTELY want to witness a birth. even if it Was the love of his life, even if it WAS his child. he has so many complicated issues around manhood and fatherhood and i think that would kind of cloud any other ideas.

i don’t even think they truly talked about it, just given the times. it wasn’t like belle ever asked “hey do you want to be there?” because husbands rarely were. and she was already very set (and very excited!) about having this very WOMAN!! experience. and adam equally wouldn’t have inquired, already being so clouded with the Everything about it. (and, i think his worry about her having to go through that would trigger him to want to avoid it, unfortunately, but it IS okay since she wasn’t expecting him to be there anyway!)

SO !!!!!!! finding their reasons so very sound, i made that decision and wrote it that way! but the whole first chapter of the fic is adam being an anxious DISASTER pacing the floor just down the hall from The Room so i mean, there’s still plenty of fatherly nerves in there. and after he goes to meet his precious darling, belle tells him how much she wanted him there the moment she was born!!!!! so like. they DO LOVE EACH OTHER SO MUCH and very much Wanted to be near each other. just not for the birth itself! which is valid and i stand by this decision <3

the other two births are kind of wild lmao. and don’t ask me why! i just work here!!

juliette was born a MONTH early. she’s perfectly okay !!! but just tiny and very unexpected. so unexpected that adam was LITERALLY NOT HOME‼️ ough. not to spoil the whole opening premise of that fic but yeah adam was in versailles doing king things. and belle would have come with him but she was quite pregnant! and carriage rides were UNCOMFORTABLE! (and their toddler is VERY attached to her mama!!!) so belle stayed home. and let me be clear, adam DID NOT want to leave. he knew they only had a month to go and his worries about belle only increased by the day. but belle, Of Course, was like dont worryyyyy nothings gonna happeeennnnnn!!!! he was only going to be gone a week anyway so. WHAT COULD HAPPEN?🥲

i don’t know WHY belle went into early labor, don’t ASK me that, i just WORK HERE, but she did. it all happened quite suddenly and it was the most scared belle has ever been. both because she thought she was going to lose the baby and because adam wasn’t even home so everything just felt wrong. one of her ladies in waiting wrote adam an urgent letter and some galant postman hopped in his horse-drawn carriage and told them to fly like the wind, bullseye!! to get the letter to versailles. which obviously took multiple hours because uhhh country big and horses small.

so this time, belle gave birth pretty scared and also more distressed because she knew adam 1. Was Not There Waiting For Her and 2. WOULD BE LOSING HIS MIND THE MOMENT HE RECEIVED THAT LETTER AND STARTED BOOKING IT BACK HOME! gosh. it’s just a very very stressful day 😭 that fic is INCREDIBLY dear to me though because it’s mostly them FINALLY reaching peace. adam returns and meets his second baby girl and belle is at peace now that he’s back and that their baby is okay. (though,,, i do think belle has some postpartum depression because of how intense everything was, and how worried she still was about juliette. she was just so tiny!!! but she really did handle being an 18th century premie like a CHAMP. at one point adam says “that’s because she’s strong, like her mother” 🥹🤧 so anywayyyy adam wasn’t there for that one either but for a wildly different reason!!! i do truly think that if he HAD been there when belle went into early labor, she would very much have summoned him because i think for a moment she wondered if she herself was going to make it and wanted him with her. (which of course made her more distressed that she literally couldn’t ask for him! AH!) anyway the 18th century was craaaazyyyy lol let’s move on !

last baby!!! le prince!!! hooray!!! okay HERE you go i finally give you the fluff we so dearly crave. ADAM WAS AT THIS ONE!!!!!!!!! it happened for a couple reasons. mostly, it was unplanned, lmao. even though maurice came on time, not early like juliette, the labor was also pretty quick and sudden.

(i didn’t even SAY this earlier but belle was in labor with renée for like a full night and day before she even TOLD adam. she’s so stubborn. like GIRL? i know Exactly how that entire day goes but i haven’t actually written about it. i should though. but she basically avoids telling adam because they had a small but “important” luncheon with some dukes and nobles and such that day and belle was like “well obviously i can’t Tell Adam because then he’ll cancel the thing he’s been super anxious about!” not for a moment thinking about THE OTHER THING HE’S BEEN SUPER ANXIOUS ABOUT FOR THE PAST NINE MONTHS— anyway. she’s ridiculous. adam really had to hold back his scolding when she finally told him but oooooh boy he was PISSED. OUT OF CONCERN‼️ but anywaaayyyyy)

this last labor started in the evening when adam and belle were winding down for the night. the girls were already tucked into bed. adam’s reading a book on the sofa and belle is milling about with some project. and then all of the sudden it’s like WHOAH HEY HELLO ! ! and she HAD felt some slight pains earlier in the afternoon but being her usual “you’d say you were fine if your arm had fallen off” self, she just kind of ignored it (you’d think she’d have learned? after the first two? but no💖) but suddenly it’s like REAL and CANNOT ignore. so she tells adam and he’s like WHOAH !!!! and then he’s like aaahAAHHHH OKAY— and they Start leaving for the hospital wing.

(oh yeah i think renée was born in like this nice medical room of the castle. part of belle’s whole Plan. but juliette was born in the west wing since all that happened so intensely and they happened to be closer to their chambers than the hospital wing. they just needed a BED at that point.)

so anyway, my gosh, MY TANGENTS!! so ANYWAY, they Try to start heading to the hospital wing but belle’s like uhhhhhh frankly my guy i do not think i can do all those stairs. this is Happening. and adam is like oooh my gosh and gets worried and Knows how scared she was last time so with all that adrenaline and Husbandly Concern he just takes control of the situation!!! and says that okay, she’s going to have the baby here, and he’s going to send for the midwives to come up, and he’s not going to leave her side. so he doesn’t !!! he helps belle to bed and steps out of their room and tells the nearest guard to get the midwife girlies !!! (who come and stay at the castle around the six month mark of each pregnancy, just to be able to do check-ups and such) and then adam pulls a chair to belle’s bedside and sits by her.

and he just. like he’s SO scared but he isn’t the same guy he was when renée was born !! he’s been a father for seven years! a husband for NINE! he’s grown A LOT ! he’s still not super excited to witness this but at this point he is fully just concerned about belle. he helps her as much as he can. he gets a rag to dry her sweat and lets her nearly break his hand from squeezing it so hard. and she definitely, (stubbornly), tells him multiple times that he can GO and she’s FINE but he’s like yeah nice try + i’m here now + deal with it. and she does! and the midwives come soon enough and things Occur and adam gets to witness the birth of his SON‼️ im not sure what time he was born but it’s like just before sunrise. like 4am maybe.

(they were all born at night !! renée is born around 11:15pm and juliette is born in the early evening, maybe like 7pm or so. (adam doesn’t show up until like 10 or 11pm😭))

and boy it is a WILD experience for adam, my gosh. obviously none of it is truly processed in the moment, with all the worries and adrenaline and utter JOY upon seeing their baby. and it’s so !!! exciting because the midwife basically cleans the baby up and puts him in adam’s arms without much thought. so they keep tending to belle with the afterbirth and all that, meanwhile adam is like ‼️‼️‼️‼️ holding his baby boy feeling like nothing is real AT ALL. and he cries (he tears up upon seeing aaallll his babies) and he’s just. gosh. so happy. SO HAPPY. so happy that their baby is okay and so happy that his belle is okay too!!! he soon puts the baby in her arms and he kisses her forehead and they can’t stop smiling. and a bit of time later, the midwives give them some time alone and leave for a bit. adam gets up and circles the bed to climb onto his side, and he just wraps his arms around them 😭

this fic takes place a couple hours after all that chaos. it’s early morning and adam eventually goes to wake the girls so they can meet their little brother!!

the silliest part is, that after ALL THAT! i do think that adam and belle would both agree that adam Should be there. so they talk about that “for next time.” but little do they know, baby reecy was their last little darling 🥹🥰 so that’s the only birth adam was at!! but wow!!! wowie i love this family of mine!!💖