#reliving a particular experience… | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

onlyswan · 11 months ago

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summary: in which leaving the past behind is not as easy as forgetting, and you want to be everything jungkook wants to know.

idol!jungkook x f!reader, est. relationship / angst, fluff / wc: 7.9k

playlist: strange by celeste / sinking by clairo / manta rays by chloe moriondo / ceilings by beabadoobee / iris (cover) by phoebe bridgers & maggie rogers

content/warnings: [deep breath] no one will know the violence it took to become this gentle / it’s their first winter as a couple / oc’s ex bf slaps oc / jk beats up the ex / blood and bruises / crying :( / mention of cheating (not in our main’s rs we don’t tolerate that in this household :]) / mention of s*x / jimin as both their older brother and friend :(

in which masterlist!

note: greeting 2024 with angst woopsie… i literally ugly sobbed writing a particular scene T_T… anwww i hope it’s a good read <3 as always reblogs and feedback are appreciated! i’d love to hear your thoughtsss 🥺

—

the word VICTORY flashes across the screen.

with a proud smirk adorning his lips, jungkook pushes down his headphones to hang around his neck.

he rises from his seat, resting his crossed arms over the partition dividing the computer that you’re renting from his.

“hi, baby. are you almost done?”

he chuckles to himself when he realizes that you didn’t hear him, not with the music blasting from your headphones. you direct your attention upwards when endless song by no reply is abruptly put on pause; the cushions of the headphones are pressed up against your cheek by your boyfriend’s doing.

“what?”

“hi, baby. are you almost done?”

“oh, yes…” your focus returns to the screen, fast fingers dancing along the keyboard without an ounce of hesitation weighing on them. “i just… need to… send the file to my email.”

jungkook blinks at the long rows of words you’re masterfully curating, thinking to himself — how the hell do you think and type that fast at the same time?

it was his suggestion to stay at a pc bang tonight so you could be together while you each do your own thing. he spent his half of his day-off playing games, and during that time, you worked on your research paper and finished an essay that isn’t even due for another week. you took a break every hour, munched on some snacks, and cheered him on while he was diligently playing. perhaps he could’ve done something more productive today, but it couldn’t have made him happier.

he holds out the last slice of gimbap in between chopsticks, lightly poking your lips, and his heart flutters when you offer him a sweet smile after welcoming the big bite with some difficulty, cheeks full and nose scrunched.

“is there anything else you want to eat?”

you shake your head, and unable to speak while chewing, you gesture for water as if you’re playing charades.

a kiss is granted to your forehead.

when he comes back with a bottled water, all your tabs have been closed and you’re wearing your white beret again, re-organizing your belongings in your backpack.

“ready to leave?” he inquires as he hands your order.

you hum as a reply, standing from your seat as you swing the backpack over your head to wear it with little to no effort.

jungkook thinks you’re so cool.

you visit the restroom as he settles the bill. when you come out, he’s already pulling out a credit card from his wallet. you decide to head straight for the door then, wait for him outside as the air inside the room has started to feel a little too stuffy after you stepped away from the computer.

you’ve always thought about it— how time stands still when you experience something traumatic, how that moment feels stretched for eternity… how utterly barbaric that is. you’re forced to memorize frames of the origin of your scars, relive it over and over again, eyes closed and open. moments of happiness, on the other hand, are fleeting. they are sand slipping through the gaps of your fingers. getting out of bed is scooping them in your hands and praying that they will hold on to you in the following rotations and revolutions of the earth. they never do.

there he stood at the bottom of the stairs, just as horrified as you.

his face is the last thing you want to see on a winter night.

because you still recall the amalgamation of emotions in his eyes two winters ago. his skin was flushed from the cold, but he turned redder with anger and your stomach coiled in shame.

“juwon?”

the name felt odd in your mouth. it’s like when you eat a food you haven’t had in a long time, and it doesn’t quite taste like you remember it.

and to be honest, you didn’t know what you expected to happen when he carried on to climb the remaining steps that led to you. but it definitely wasn’t… this.

the first hand to carress your bare body, as if it was in disbelief of its existence, and the rings you used to blindly adore— they collide with your cheek with a sound that resonates in your eardrums.

the slap thins out into a ringing noise.

“are you insane?!”

it continues to assault your hearing even as you scream and hit him back.

it ends when someone bumps against your shoulder in a haste, and the next thing you register is juwon lying on the ground with jungkook sitting on top him, balled fist throwing unforgiving punches at your ex-boyfriend’s face. juwon is held hostage by the shock and is unable to reciprocate jungkook’s aggression. he attempts to fight back but your boyfriend dodges easily.

“jungkook! stop, stop, stop!”

you run down the stairs with panic thundering in your chest, nearly in tears as you forcefully grasp at the back of jungkook’s coat to pull him away, but with his strength and the adrenaline flowing through his veins, your efforts prove to be fruitless.

“you fucking bastard! i’m gonna kill you!”

“that’s enough-” you cry out. “please!”

“how dare you lay a hand on my girlfriend like that, huh?!”

he is furious, gripping the collar of juwon’s sweater and slamming him to the ground.

“your girl?” coughing, juwon faces the side to spit out the blood in his mouth, which then shapes into an arrogant smirk. “didn’t you know? ____ was mine first. i was the first!”

the next punch he receives cuts his lower lip open, and a stronger metallic taste assaults his tongue.

“jungkook!”

before jungkook could inflinct more permanent damage, you resort to holding back his arm with both of your hands.

your gazes connect, and your heart drops to your stomach. he is seething with anger. your blood runs cold and a thick haze clouds your thinking. you can’t move your limbs. what do you do? what do you do? what do you do?

“____, let go. i’m not fucking finished with him.”

“please,” you beg, ignorant of the tears that have begun to slide down your cheeks. “that’s enough. look at him!”

“and why should i care?” he spits out as he shrugs you off.

“ah, jungkook! i said that’s enough! why won’t you listen to me?!”

your desperate tantrum falls on deaf ears. you squeeze your eyes shut when he re-assumes his stance, tucks his thumb over his folded fingers, exactly what he taught you about making a proper fist to avoid injuring one’s self when boxing.

“stop it! you’re scaring me!”

that throws a bucket of ice over jungkook’s head. the anger in his eyes is replaced by vacancy, and with that, juwon seizes the opportunity to finally strike him with a jab and escape from underneath him. jungkook finds himself pushed aside on the ground with a throbbing cheek, mostly likely to be noticeably bruised in the next hours.

“love-” you gasp, and you rush over to him but your path gets rudely obstructed by your ex.

“is this the guy you cheated on me with?”

he is extremely near that you can feel him panting on your face. two years later, your stomach coils in disgust. your glare is venomous, and if only looks could kill, if only looks could kill…

“just leave, won’t you? what’s the point of all this?” you roughly push him away with your remaining shred of energy, driven by exhaustion and frustration. “it was so long ago! get a fucking grip!”

he huffs in disbelief as he wipes the blood from the corner of his mouth. it also drips from his nose and eyebrow. strange enough, you do not feel guilt nor compassion for this man. not anymore.

“are you seriously crying just because he got punched one time…? isn’t that a little unfair? you loved me too. once.” he snickers, but he is visibly pissed off. he can no longer look at you in the eye. “shit, is he that much of a better fuck than me?”

your skin crawls. bile creeps up your throat. technically speaking, this is the consequence of your own actions, but you can’t help but to be resentful.

“you are…” your voice trembles, but your glare remains unwavering. “still as despicable and shallow as ever… and i don’t regret what i did.”

and it may have been a long time ago, but you still know how to hit him where it hurts the most— his ego.

you purposely bump against his shoulder as you make your way to jungkook, leaving him speechless as he stares at the ground. the night the two of you broke up, you were crying and begging him for forgiveness… what the fuck happened?

“let’s go home.” you demand quietly while refusing to meet jungkook’s stare— a mix of confusion, offense, and rage.

but the thing about juwon? he always needs to have the last word.

“you better keep a close eye. you might think you know ____, but whores never change. especially those who became one so young.”

“dude, how are you still speaking?!”

it’s too late when you realize that jungkook has left your side. he swings at juwon’s face with a force that sends the man stumbling backwards. he completely loses balance then collapses on the ground with a curse that almost misses your ears.

“don’t ever go near ____ again! don’t even think of it! if you show your face to me again, i might really end up fucking killing you. you hear me?!”

—

jungkook doesn’t recall a time when he felt a rage this intense and consuming. witnessing you get slapped, his vision went dark and he was shaking with fury. everything was a blur after that, but he knew one thing: this man violated the most precious person to him, and he won’t allow him to get away with that unscathed.

and that must be why he feels restless until now. neither one of you has dared to utter a word for the past couple of minutes. he can’t see your face as you’re walking ahead of him, leading the way with his wrist in your cold hand. however, he can hear your sniffles, and he can see you wiping your tears dry with the back of your hand. he thought he has experienced heartbreak, but this pain cuts deeper than anything he has ever felt.

“baby, let’s go back.”

he breaks the silence, standing infront of you to stop you on your tracks. he almost reeks of desperation as he intertwines your fingers together.

“please? there should be a cctv camera infront. we can sue him.”

“are you even hearing yourself? you’ll also get into trouble!”

his insistence only fuels the urge to cry and scream and break things. it’s an understatement to say that you’re ashamed. it was foolish of you, really, to assume that leaving the past behind would be as easy as forgetting. it may be out of sight but it is everywhere, and it sneaks up on you without tell and mercy.

“you attacked him out of nowhere! he can sue you for that too!”

“out of nowhere?” he repeats your words slowly, hurt flashing across his face. “i was protecting you, ____! who knows what else he could’ve done? and the shit he was talking about you? was i just supposed to stand there and do nothing?”

“and i’m protecting you too! why did you even have to punch him again?! he was obviously just trying to provoke you! god, i-” you release the air in your lungs you didn’t realize you’ve been holding. “thank god he didn’t see your face.”

that struck a nerve for some reason. he harshly rips off the mask that has been concealing half of his face all along.

“he hit you! look- fuck, you’re bleeding-”

oh, his rings must’ve grazed you.

jungkook brings out a clean white handkerchief from the backpocket of his pants, pressing it softly against your cheek. the sharp sting forces you to grit your teeth. it’s not only the wound… your skin is still warm and tender from the assault. you’re terrified to look at the mirror. you don’t want to feel sorry for yourself.

“and that’s what you’re really worried about right now?”

“okay, then i’m sorry for caring about my boyfriend and his career! i’m sorry, okay?!“

he dies a little inside when you harshly push his hand aside.

so this is what it feels like to be at the other end of your anger… shitty. it feels really shitty. after what happened, there is no sadness or fear. the twinkle in your eyes have been replaced with sharp daggers and it is gutwrenching to watch. it clicks for him then: you weren’t scared of him. you were scared for him.

he doesn’t allow you to go further than ten feet away. he seizes your arm before sneaking his hand on your waist to tug you closer to his body.

“you think i’m letting you out of my sight again? it’s not happening!”

you click your tongue in exasperation, left with no choice but to admit defeat as he hails the approaching taxi. you cover your face to hide from the blinding headlights.

ever the gentleman, jungkook opens the door for you.

“get in, ____.”

and the first thought that enters your mind: the air freshener is nauseating. it has to be something mixed with lemon.

you roll the window down as your boyfriend dictates the address of your destination to the taxi driver. not yours, but his. you send him an unimpressed scowl, but he only looks back at you challengingly under the warm dim light. the soft cloth is placed over your wound again, rudely snatched as you turn away from him. you hold it on your own as you watch the world outside the window, streetlamps with blurry light streaks and homes you will never set foot into. in the midst of your musing, you register the weight on your head, or its lack thereof. your beret landed on the ground in the aftermath of the first strike. what is there left to lose?

you thought you could be happy at last, but beside you is another soul you’ve stained with your bloody hands.

juwon was right, you never change.

—

“i still don’t think it’s right that i know the password.” you whisper as you push the door open.

“but i have a key to your house. what’s the difference?”

“i don’t know…” you begin removing your boots, carefully placing each one in the middle level of the shoe rack. “you live with six other people.”

“namjoon-hyung and yoongi-hyung are in their studios. the others went home.”

you enter the living room with jungkook hugging you from behind. his cheek rests on top of your shoulder, and he doesn’t want to let you go. the ride here was suffocating. he thought you wouldn’t talk to him for the rest of the night anymore.

you blink at jimin who is sprawled out on the sofa, a gray blanket that matches his sweatpants is covering his naked torso.

“why does he sleep here? doesn’t he have a bed?”

“the sofa is more comfortable.” he mumbles loud enough for you to hear as he opens his eyes halfway, but then he gives up and closes them again, curling in on himself to resume his slumber.

“okay… now i know what to get you for your birthday.”

for a brief second jungkook assumes that you’re joking, but you sounded way too nonchalant.

“a sofa?”

“a new mattress,” you blankly stare back at him, before proceeding to break free from his embrace to search for the bathroom.

he follows you like a lost puppy, whining. “why does he already have a birthday gift and i don’t?!”

“quiet!”

he winces. “sorry, hyung!”

—

you’re perched in the space between jungkook’s thighs, legs swung over one of them as he tenderly presses a cold compress against your left cheek. you’ve changed into the pair of pink cooky pajamas he wore a few times and has kept in his closet specially for you. sinking into his mattress, drowsiness has also begun to seep into the depths of your bones. it’s been an arduous week, and you’re exhausted of fighting in every sense of the word.

“he deserves more than what he got away with.” he mutters through gritted teeth.

“jungkook, enough.” you chide at him with a sigh. “let’s just forget about this.”

“your face is going to be bruised for atleast a week! how am i supposed to ‘just forget’? are you hearing yourself?”

your rhetoric question from earlier comes back to gnaw at your thread-like sanity. you feel backed into a corner. you can’t think of a solution that will put this issue at rest, much less make either one of you feel better.

“he’s not worth it.”

“you are to me.” he declares.

it’s impossible to argue with that. you want it to stay true. you want him to keep believing in you.

“i’m tired.” you whisper, removing yourself from his lap. “let’s go to sleep.”

he gazes at you with longing.

you are lying on his bed but you have never felt so far away.

“are we really not going to talk about this?”

“not now. i’m tired, jungkook.”

“baby…”

“juwon is a terrible person, but i had it coming…” you mumble. “that’s all there is to it.”

foreboding silence falls upon the bedroom. you can’t bring yourself to look at jungkook, so you close your eyes and pray that when the sun rises, this night will simply turn out to be a nightmare orchestrated by your wicked mind.

“whatever that is, it doesn’t warrant what he did.” he plants a gentle kiss on your forehead, and it takes everything in you not to fall apart into a thousand shards. “and i’m sorry that i couldn’t stop it from happening.”

—

jungkook returns after his shower, not yet done with drying his dripping hair with a towel. you’ve drifted off to sleep in the time that he was gone, lips slightly parted open as you breathe out puffs of air in a steady rhythm. your hair is a halo and you’re an angel snoozing on a cloud.

he heard it loud and clear, and you haven’t denied it either, but there’s not a part of him that believes it. is he blindly in love with you? is this what he was warning him about? are you not an angel, but a siren?

wary of waking you up, he attaches a bandaid to your cheek. he flicks the lightswitch but he turns on the night lamp so you won’t have to manuever the dark incase you wake up in the middle of the night in need of the bathroom.

shit, shit, shit. he curses in his head when you begin shuffling as soon as he settles himself on the bed, but it’s just you unknowingly seeking for warmth in your sleep. he gathers you in his arms and your pillow is abandoned in favor of his naked chest. it always feels fitting, like his heart is the stuffed toy that you can’t go without at night.

he swallows the lump in his throat, brushing your hair away from your face to gently caress your soft skin. you look so serene. but your ex’s fingers can be traced on the red bruise that has tainted your cheek and his jaw clenches, hand momentarily balling into a fist to release the leftover anger still boiling in his blood. everyday, you feel the need to act tough because of people like him, and you are… but deep down, he knows, that you just crave to be loved.

“you loved me too. once.”

however, that has lost its meaning when juwon didn’t love you the way you deserved to be loved.

and jungkook admits it’s not as easy for him to do in a whole different dimension. he leads a kind of life not everyone survives, but that never stopped him for trying his damn hardest.

—

you’re awoken in the middle of the night by jungkook’s forehead accidentally knocking against yours. his snoring doesn’t cease, however, and you had to remind yourself that this is the same boy who continued sleeping despite rolling off his inflated sleeping bag on camera.

you slowly sit up as you rub the sleep from your eyes. you spend an unknown amount of time spaced out, barely blinking. afterwards, you force yourself to leave the comfort of the bed, taking the cold compress along with you. you drain the melted ice over the kitchen sink before opening the refrigerator to refill it with ice cubes. you can’t help but to allow your eyes to wander around, which then leads you to contemplate on whether to cook ramen or not… but then again, it’s already 3am and most likely, you won’t be able to sleep again if you do.

“yah! why are doing just standing there?”

the deep voice echoes throughout the kitchen. you yelp in shock, nearly dropping the ice bag as you tap on your pounding chest.

“i told you to stop doing that!”

jimin bursts into a fit of too delighted giggles, hunched over the kitchen counter as he places a hand over his belly. he’s fully clothed this time, fresh from the shower, judging from his hair.

“it’s not funny!” you whine. “one of these days i might be holding a knife when you do that!”

“ey, what would you be holding a knife for? jungkook never lets you lift a finger while you’re here.”

that’s just because he knows you’re not very talented in the kitchen.

the wide smile on his face then fades, expression morphing into one of concern as he studies your face bathed by the refrigerator light.

“what happened to your face?”

fuck, you’ve completely forgotten about that.

“it’s a long story.” you sigh, closing the refrigerator.

“it’s alright. i have all the time in the world to listen.”

“you know that i really appreciate that and i’m grateful but…” your smile borders on a wince. “no, you don’t. get some more sleep, please.”

your unexpected response causes jimin to scratch his head shyly. the two of you stare at each other for a few seconds before laughing at the same time.

“oh, that’s right!” you pause on your tracks when an essential item pops in your mind. “do you have healing ointment? for cuts and bruises and stuff?”

“it’s for jungkook,” you add.

“doesn’t he have that?”

“it’s not here,”

your sweet smile tells jimin everything he needs to know.

“ah, that kid really comes home to different houses now. he’s all grown up.”

“…and how many exactly?” you arch an eyebrow.

he purses his lips together, jokingly pretending to think hard. “the dorm… and then his family… then there’s you?”

“anywhere else?”

“nope!”

“sooo, do you have it or not?”

“i’ll go downstairs and buy it right now.”

he offers you a kind smile and pats on the head. a protest dies down in your throat as he goes straight for the front door.

“thank you!”

“you’re welcome!”

—

despite your active efforts to avoid making any sort of noise, the door produces a small ‘click’ as you cautiously close it behind you. you discover that jungkook has flipped over to face your side, his arm outstretched as if he was reaching out for you. you almost feel bad for leaving him alone in bed, so you sit next to him, positioned on the lower half of the bed since he took up your space.

a short snore escapes him, one that rises then falls so abruptly, like a note on the piano pressed on accident. you cover your mouth to muffle your giggle.

how adorable. you have grown to tolerate, and even adore, his snoring.

stolen kisses on his bruised knuckles, tiny and featherlight, apologetic most of all. their bad condition brought upon by boxing worsened when he used his dominant hand bare, knuckles of his two longest fingers ripped. it seems that he did the bare minimum by putting a stop to the bleeding then washing them clean, then nothing else. he didn’t even tell you, didn’t complain or show any sign that he was in pain.

you hold the cold compress over his bruises, switching between his cheek and knuckles, mindful of not touching the wounds as to not aggravate him in his sleep.

you’ve been stripped down bare— your pride and dignity dismantled into pieces that create a picture of you that you do not like… but could be the love and sincerity in your heart be enough to live by? even if no one is awake to witness it?

you’re saved from drowning in your thoughts by the front door being unlocked. for the second time, you tiptoe your way out of jungkook’s bedroom.

“this is for wounds, and then…” jimin returns the tube inside the paper bag to grab the other. “this one, for bruises.”

“thank you. i’ll pay you back.”

“yah!” jimin expands his eyes threateningly, which you mimic in challenge as you hug the paper bag to your chest. “i’m also your older brother, okay? i should do these things for you.”

you scrunch your nose, to express disagreement at first, but later on it only makes your smile appear brighter.

“doesn’t it hurt you to smile? please use them well too, ____. do you understand? that’s why i bought the biggest ones!”

it does hurt.

“thank you…” you reply shyly.

you’ve forgotten how it feels like to be taken care of by family.

—

“baby, where did you go?”

jungkook’s raspy voice is music to your ears.

he woke up a mere minute ago, caught in the middle of sitting up on the bed once it caught up to his sleep-muddled brain that you’re no longer beside him.

“nowhere,”

you sit at the edge of the bed without another word, putting his hands over your lap to apply the healing cream to his afflictions.

his eyelids flutter in sleepiness as he watches your every movement.

a small dollop at the pad of your finger, transferred over his torn knuckle and smeared with the lightest of touch. occasionally your finger pauses, unsure, calculating— the last thing it wants is to hurt him.

he kisses your lips— he feels suspended in time—hasn’t quite reconnected with reality and with his body. wide-eyed, you seem taken aback by the display of affection. his mouth then softly curves with fondness.

“i love you.”

“i love you, too.” you whisper timidly.

your actions have become hurried, but jungkook is far too drowsy to notice your discomfort.

for the final part, you rub the cream on the bruise on his cheek. you press a kiss on the corner of his lips. “all done. go back to sleep.”

“let’s go,”

he hooks his arm under your knees, eager to carry you over to your side of the bed, but he gets interrupted by your protest.

“wait, wait, wait- i need to pee first.”

“wha- hurry!” he complains with a peeved frown, which you fail to catch a glimpse of because he has squeezed you taut against his body. “i won’t be able to sleep without you here.”

—

eternally cursed with the ability to feel too much of everything.

you push your back against the bathroom door, breathing heavy and labored as you blindly pat around for its lock. the click serves as the cue for your salty tears to drip from the edges of your eyelashes, cascading down, down, down your chin. some of them crash on the collar of your pajama top, the rest on the white tiled floor. this room is a stranger to your shipwreck, but old habits die hard.

the intense pressure of the water collides with the porcelain sink. rain and thunder and the gusts of wind being your gasps for air. an isolated storm undetected in the city of seoul you’re forced to brave alone, on the floor, tucked into yourself to protect the beating sacredness inside your ribcage. the sobs claw their way up your throat rather than soaring like exhales do.

no one has ever raised their hand at you. not even your parents. not even when you broke your grandmother’s precious china, or lost their big paper bills to the wind, or cursed at them for embarrassing you infront of your friends.

you want to be mad and say that juwon deserved what he got. you want to say that you hope his nose is broken. but you don’t know how one is supposed to react when something like that happens. you don’t know if it justifies everything after that. if the roles were reversed and you slapped him, won’t no one bat an eye?

…and you know jungkook has questions you still haven’t figured out how to answer. you know he now has reasons to doubt you. you know in his eyes, you may now be a hypocrite and not the advocate he adored. these days, you don’t really want to be seen as anything less or more than who you are, but you so desperately wish to be someone he is proud to love.

you feel mocked for even daring to dream of it.

“i’m tired, i’m tired, i’m tired.”

incoherent mumbles further stirs the unbridled chaos.

“i’m so sick of this. why… why do bad things keep happening to me?”

you don’t expect an answer but you yearn for some sort of meaning. you don’t mind suffering but you wish it could only be to an extent where you don’t have to fear.

echoes of rumbles and thunder. you’re nearer the sky but farther from heaven.

—

it’s been more than a week. you’ve been waking up with a gaping hole in the middle of your torso. you climb out of bed, cover up your cheek with make-up, good as new, and go about your day as if nothing happened. life on its own is already too much of a burden for you.

jungkook checks up on you everyday, though, despite his busy schedule. mostly through the phone, and whenever he can, he goes straight to where you are after work to dote on you no matter the time. he kisses you on the cheek, claims himself to have healing properties, and says i love you. and during those periods of time you were together, he hasn’t said another word about the incident. and it has been driving you absolutely insane.

you glance down at him, sat on the floor with an ipad balanced on top of his propped up knees, wearing one of your anti-radiation glasses as he finds himself absorbed in drawing the view a foot away from him. you.

“why do you keep looking at me?” he scolds you lightheartedly. “go back to studying so we can go to sleep.”

“can’t help it,” you mumble as you reposition your pen over the paper. you’ve been reorganizing your notes the whole night for your upcoming tests, but your mind keeps flying everywhere else. “my boyfriend’s too pretty.”

“ah, it can’t be helped then. sorry about that.” he smirks cockily, pulling the dramatics by switching his eyes between you and his back. “should… should i turn around then?”

“did you box again?”

the accusation is spat out before you can think twice.

“oh, you did. your knuckles are all messed up again.”

he pouts, crossing his legs. “but baby, i have to train... i wrapped my hands properly!”

“still,” you sigh. “can’t you just let them heal for a little while?”

you turn to the cabinet on your other side to bring out the pouch of healing ointments you’re now suspecting he brought and didn’t accidentally leave behind.

you lay out your hand, and jungkook puts his on top of yours, dragging himself close.

you both smile when you see that he has laid his hands over your thighs like he’s getting a manicure. silly boy. you pull them closer by his fingers so you can reach his red knuckles.

“why are you trying so hard?”

your finger is stained with his blood. your voice is as gentle as your touches, and that’s why it hurts.

jungkook doesn’t know either. he’s been trying to extinguish his leftover anger and bitterness through work and boxing— suppressing the onslaught of negative thoughts threatening to poison what the two of you have. jungkook doesn’t want to know. he doesn’t want anything to change. right now, he can’t afford them to.

“there’s no one to fight.”

“turns out there is,” he argues.

he regrets it as soon as your hand trembles.

“it’s okay… to ask. we’re in a relationship. you’re entitled to know things like that.” your eyes are unafraid again, and it scares him, like you’re always prepared to let him go. “i won’t get offended, or anything like that. if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“i trust you,” he says simply. “so i don’t need to know. especially if talking about it makes you uncomfortable. it’s okay… we’re okay, baby.”

stillness washes over the room like a tide that swallows everything up, and for a moment jungkook is convinced that the two of you will never bring it up again.

but the words you utter next are a punch to the gut.

they almost sound like a plead.

“but i can’t live my life that way, jungkook.”

strands of your hair descend to your face, framing it perfectly, but your eyes become hidden from view. you rip a bandaid open and blanket it over his two knuckles, still wounded as before, if not worse.

“if you intend to be with me for a long time, then i need you to need to know…” because there will be things i’d want to tell you, but wouldn’t feel the need to.

“then tell me,” he replies, prompted by a renewed determination. “i don’t just intend to be with you for a long time. i want way more than that.”

—

jungkook fiddles with the hello kitty bandaid using his thumb, mind reeling and grappling to process the overload of information told by your storytelling voice. all of a sudden, he’s grateful that you decided to lie down on the bed for this conversation.

“juwon was your boyfriend before me, no?”

“no, no, no. he was…” your lips part as if you have something more left to say, but you eventually give up. “yup, no.”

“so you found out that he’s been cheating on you for-for two mo-”

“three-”

“three months, and you…” he blinks. “slept with a stranger and let him catch you?”

“i was really petty. i was seventeen after all… my pride couldn’t take it. my friends- they tried to stop me but… but all i could think of was how to make him feel the way i was feeling.” your voice sounds small, smaller as you squeeze yourself into his side and curl up to hide your face. “so i let him think i was the bad guy.”

he understands that you were vengeful, but he doesn’t know if you comprehend the scale of what you have done.

“he looked so sad and hurt that i started to feel guilty. i don’t know if i was still acting when i was apologizing to him.” you scoff with eyebrows knitted together. “i felt so dirty… i still feel like a bad person, you know?”

you took the face of juwon’s demons and he didn’t like what he saw.

“i had it coming,” — he now has a grasp of what you meant before.

“so how has he been doing this to me for such a long time? how does he stomach it? knowing what i was going through? that’s what i thought… it makes me so upset…”

jungkook doesn’t try to assess you as you speak. he only listens, until your voice cracks. his heart is split into two as tears flood your eyes, escaping past the corners and slipping down to soak the fabric of his t-shirt.

you sniffle. “and the sex wasn’t even that great. i regret it even more.”

he flinches, abruptly squeezing his eyes shut. not that great? okay… okay. the mental image of you being physically intimate with someone that isn’t him definitely doesn’t sicken him to his core. at all. nope, nope, nope.

“fuck, baby, please,” he groans as if he is in pain, putting an arm over his eyes. “hearing about you have sex with other guys is making me want to punch something again. fuck.”

“that’s what you took away from the story?”

“yes!” he exclaims with conviction. “we should’ve met a year earlier. i would’ve let you use me!”

you gasp, scandalized. “oh my god! jungkook!”

“argh-” he animatedly clutches at his chest that caught your fist.

“you’re crazy!”

“uhuh, about you.” he proudly replies, pulling you closer to his side, as if that was still possible.

the subtle upwards of the corners of your lips gives him a sense of relief. he tenderly cups your cheek, his thumb ghosting over the bruise that has turned a darker shade of blue and purple.

“listen to me, i- i’m not here to tell you what’s right or wrong. i’m not that type of person. but what i can do tell you is that this…” he briefly shakes his head. “didn’t change the way i see you at all. he hurt you. he cheated and you were hurt, ____.”

your eyes gleam with uncertainty, a fresh wave of tears threatening to escape. “are you sure?”

“of course i am. why wouldn’t i be sure?”

“because you’re crazy about me.”

the sweet innocence of your eyelashes fluttering elicits a chuckle from him. you’re so fucking cute.

“that’s the reason i’m sure.” he tilts up your chin to plant a kiss to your lips, mumbling. “i’ve never been wrong about anything i’m crazy about.”

“thank you,” you say quietly, melting into his embrace. you nuzzle your face against his chest, and at last, you grant your eyes rest. “i can finally sleep peacefully again.”

fuck, it’s been weighing on you this whole time and he didn’t know.

“i’m sorry i only dated assholes before you.”

“aish, why would you be sorry about such a thing?” he kisses the top of your head, gentleness contradicting his following sentence. “i’d crush each one of those assholes for you.”

and he’d beat himself up the worst if he ever becomes one of them.

you yawn, sniffling right after. “mhm, i bet you will.”

he carefully rolls over to the side so he can wrap both arms around you, and you keen in contentment.

“jungkook?”

“yes, baby?” he coos.

“i… really… love you so, so, so much. you are… the one person i’d die for before i hurt.”

goddammit, it’s an angel sleeping in his arms.

“that’s a relief to hear. you’re very smart and scary when you’re mad.”

“eh, jungkook! i swear i’ve grown up! i’m not like that anymore!”

“okay, okay!” he laughs at your childish whining and squirming as he ushers you back in his embrace. “i believe you! i trust you! i love you too!”

—

although you spend more nights together in your apartment for your safety and convenience, in all honesty, you like staying over at jungkook’s more. his smell evokes the sentiment of home, and when you stay long enough, it becomes a temporary part of you. you’re gradually more well-versed in the organized and unorganized corners of his room. you like that you know where he keeps the safety pins and you know to be careful when walking so you won’t trip over his dumbbells he leaves lying around. and it’s a little ridiculous but… you like that his mattress is on the floor and you don’t really know why.

your boyfriend is still blissfully asleep as you climb over him, landing on the floor without a sound like a veteran spy. however, you rush to step out of the room before the rumbling of your empty stomach could wake him up.

“yah, thief! what do you think you’re doing?!”

“fuck!” the pack of ramen hits the floor when your hands fly to your chest to clutch at your painfully pounding heart. “i swear to god, you’re going to kill me one day!”

and unsurprisingly, your chagrin is countered yet again with jimin’s all too pleased laughter.

“____, you look so suspicious! why are you using a flashlight? we have electricity! we can pay for it!”

“i don’t like it too bright, okay?” you grumble as you pick up your supposed midnight meal.

“let’s just turn on this one then.”

“uh-” the objection dies down in your throat when the light over the dining table was switched on.

“i’m hungry, too. grab two more packs of ramyeon, please.”

“who’s the other one for?”

jimin fills the pot with water from the sink while you pick up two more of the same pack from the pantry.

“just us. don’t you agree that one pack is too small for one person?”

“it’s just enough for me though?” you rip open the packs one by one to retrieve the packets of seasonings. “with your job, though, i’d definitely have a bigger appetite.”

“alright,” he pouts, pretending to be upset. “let’s have just two then.”

“no, no, no-” you chase his hand, tightly gripping the last pack that he stole. “let’s have three! let’s have three! i didn’t eat dinner!”

—

“my mom brought a lot of kimchi yesterday. there’s an entire box in the fridge. i’ll pack you some before you leave later.”

“put some more in,” you say cutely as you peer down at the pot of ramen beside jimin. “please?”

he chuckles, adhering to your request before handing the container to you.

“thank you!”

you hop on the counter infront of the stove, chewing on a mouthful of kimchi with a joy akin to a child receiving a sweet treat. leaving the ramen to cook for the next five minutes, jimin sits a few feet away.

“aigoo, are you that hungry?”

“this is so delicious!” you praise his mother’s cooking instead of answering the question. “i can really eat this on its own.”

“ey, don’t fill yourself up yet! we have a lot of ramyeon to eat!”

“sorry, sorry!”

your giggles fill the apartment with warmth during this freezing winter. jimin didn’t doubt it when jungkook said that you light up every room you enter, he just didn’t expect that he would also gain a friend.

“how’s your cheek?”

“as you can see,” you motion at your face. “yellow. soooo… uglier.”

“that means it’s healing well.”

“i know,” the apples of your cheek become plump as your lips curve. “it no longer hurts to smile.”

“that’s a relief to hear,” he returns your kind smile. “jungkook has been worried about you.”

that’s the end of what he can tell you. jungkook won’t be pleased if you learn that he cried when he talked about the horrible thing that happened to you.

“thank you,”

“huh? for what?”

“being jungkook’s happiness.”

from his peripheral vision, he perceives your surprise. however, he is too flustered to meet your eyes while he is speaking from the bottom of his heart.

“the past year was physically and mentally draining for the team. as you know, we… we were considering giving up and disbanding. and of course it’s hard on all of us, but i’m really, really worried about jungkook. but!”

he chuckles at the dramatic rise of his own voice.

“i’m less worried now that you’re in his life. and i’m not saying this to put pressure on you or anything! but you see, when he’s tired, he bounces back quickly because of you. he’s smiling more because of you. and i know it goes it also goes the other way around. mhmm… i-i guess what i’m saying is that i hope you can continue being each other’s strength? be each other’s cheerleader?”

you have begun to feel emotional as you listened to his sincere and heartwarming words, but you can’t help but to cackle at the fact that you just witnessed the park jimin say the word ‘cheerleader’ while daintily waving his hands around as they were holding pompoms. how awfully endearing.

“…or something like that.”

uncontrollable giggles vibrate his body, dramatically slipping down the counter and onto the tiled floor to enshroud himself in extreme sheepishness.

“ah, ____! this is driving me crazy! don’t laugh!”

“what are you doing lying on the floor?” you playfully scold him, recording with your phone in secret. “why do i suddenly feel like the older one?”

“what’s with the noise?”

you whip your head around, wide curious eyes greeted with a shirtless jungkook who is still rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“is that ramyeon…? i want some too.”

jimin groans when he feels your foot poke him lightly.

“mister, can we add more? my googie is hungry too.”

—

“hyung, ____ told me something recently that really put a lot of things into perspective.”

and with that, jimin pours another bottle of beer in his and jungkook’s ice-filled mugs. “let me hear it.”

“if you intend to be with me for a long time, then i need you to need to know. at first i didn’t understand what it meant? then after we talked, something clicked for me. ahhh, i see it now. ____ didn’t want us to trust each other blindly… because that… that isn’t a good… foundation? for something that i want to last for a very long time. you, me, the members… don’t we all trust each other because we know that we’re good people to our core and we’re good at what we do? isn’t that why we have come this far, and why we keep going? besides army, of course!”

jimin blinks lazily, glossy eyes from the alcohol underneath it all. “that’s right. we wouldn’t have started this anyway… without that kind of trust. i don’t think it’s a connection you can just build with anyone too.”

“oh, that’s it. that’s right!”

“living together for a long time doesn’t guarantee it.”

“exactly.” jungkook nods repeatedly, probably too passionately, a guaranteed ticket for a hangover later on. “we talked about that last time too.”

“right? so we should protect it… maintain it… never lose sight of our purpose…”

the lack of words that follow does not equate to silence. glasses clink against each other and teeth rip bags of chips open and noodles are slurped. they’re overseas and they can’t go to a korean restaurant and grill their own meat. the hotel steak would take forever to arrive and quite frankly, they had it yesterday and it was not good. this is not exactly ideal, but it has its own charm.

jungkook takes another swig of the bittersweet alcohol, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand afterwards.

“____ has become an important part of my life that i would do anything to protect too. how do i say it…?” he exhales to relieve the heavy weight on his chest. “i feel like i gained more purpose in life, hyung… to be honest, i might have a harder time because of that. i know it but… i’m happy. seriously, i’m happy.”

—

taglist in the reblogs! send an ask/dm if you want to be added (or removed) :D

—

#jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook drabble #jungkook scenario #jungkook one shot #jungkook imagine #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook au #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts fluff #bts reaction #jungkook smut

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writing-with-sophia · 1 year ago

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Common character motivations

Revenge - seeking to get even with someone who has wronged them

Love - driven by romantic feelings for another character

Greed - motivated by a desire for material possessions or wealth

Power - seeking to gain control or influence over others

Justice - motivated by a sense of fairness and a desire to see justice served

Redemption - seeking to make up for past mistakes or wrongdoings

Curiosity - driven by a desire to learn or discover something new

Duty - motivated by a sense of responsibility or obligation to others or a cause

Ambition - driven by a desire to achieve a specific goal or succeed in a particular endeavor

Fear - motivated by a desire to avoid danger or harm

Guilt - driven by a sense of remorse for past actions or decisions

Jealousy - motivated by envy or a desire to possess what another character has

Betrayal - motivated by a sense of betrayal or desire for revenge against someone who has betrayed them.

Ambivalence - a character who is conflicted or uncertain about their goals or desires

Freedom - a character who seeks to escape from a restrictive situation or society

Fame - motivated by a desire for public recognition or notoriety

Identity - driven by a need to understand or define who they are

Family - motivated by a sense of loyalty or obligation to their family or loved ones

Discovery - driven by a desire to explore or uncover hidden knowledge

Patriotism - motivated by a love for their country or a desire to protect it

Rebellion - driven by a desire to challenge authority or the status quo

Artistic expression - motivated by a need to create or express oneself through art, music, or other creative endeavors

Religion or spirituality - driven by a desire to connect with a higher power or to live according to certain beliefs or values

Altruism - motivated by a desire to help others or make the world a better place

Atonement - driven by a need to make amends or seek forgiveness for past actions

Nostalgia - motivated by a desire to return to a simpler time or relive past experiences

Status - driven by a desire for social or professional standing or recognition.

Insecurity - driven by a need to prove their worth or gain acceptance from others

Legacy - motivated by a desire to leave a lasting impact or to be remembered in a certain way after they're gone

Survival - driven by the need to survive in extreme circumstances, such as a natural disaster, war, or an apocalyptic event

Belonging - motivated by a desire to fit in with a certain group or community

Love of knowledge - driven by a passion for learning and acquiring new information

Addiction - motivated by a compulsion to engage in a particular behavior or activity, such as drug use or gambling

Inciting incident - motivation driven by a specific event that triggers or sets the character on their journey

Fear of death - driven by a fear of their own mortality or the mortality of others

Intimidation - motivated by a fear of others or a desire to intimidate others for personal gain

Envy - driven by a desire to possess what others have or to be like someone else

Manipulation - motivated by a desire to control or manipulate others for their own benefit

Protecting others - driven by a desire to protect loved ones or innocent people from harm

Sense of duty - motivated by a sense of responsibility to fulfill a particular role or obligation.

If you want to read more posts about writing, please click here and give me a follow!

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c1qfxugcgy0 · 6 months ago

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adventures in aerospace

So I recently started working at Large Aircraft Manufacturer. (LAM) The plant I work at employs 30,000 people. The company as a whole employs 170,000. Usually you only hear about LAM when something goes wrong. But no matter how bumbling it seems from the outside, it's way worse on the inside.

Three months after my first day, I have been "graduated" from "training." In reality, I'm still completely worthless on the floor: the training center has given me a paltry subset of the production certificates I need to actually to do my assigned job. A commonly cited statistic at LAM is that a hundred men a day are retiring, each one representing decades of experience, walking out the door, forever. The training center is in the unenviable position of managing a generational replacement, and have resorted to shoveling heaps of zoomers through as fast as possible. (As one of the few people with a visible hairline and who is not wearing a Roblox graphic tee; I am frequently mistaken for an instructor, and asked where the bathroom is, what time the next class starts, etc)

In theory, the training center knows what shop I'm assigned to, and can simply assign me all the required classes. In practice, they do the absolute minimum amount of training in a desperate attempt to relive the crowding in their handful of computer labs and tell graduates to pick up their certs later.

Of course, the irresistible force of the schedule meets the immovable object of the FAA. If you don't have the required production certificate to perform a particular job, you don't touch the airplane. Full stop, end of story.

And so the curtain opens on the stage. It reveals a single senior mechanic, supervising a mechanic who finally received all the certs and is being qualified on this particular job, surrounded by another three trainees. Trainees are less than nothing, absolute scum. At best we can fetch and carry. Mostly we are expected to stay out of the way. And the senior mechanic is only senior in title. He is one of six assembler-installers who is certified to actually work on the plane, out of twenty people on the crew, and spends every day with a permanent audience. He is 23 years old.

("Mechanic"? If you think the jargon at your job is bad, try joining a company that's a century old. Assembler-installers are universally referred to as "mechanics", despite doing work that's nothing like what a car mechanic does, and who are generally paid far worse than FAA certified A&P mechanics. Mechanics are the 11 bravos of LAM, grunts, the single largest category of worker. The tip of the spear. Hooah!)

Large Aircraft Manufacturer is in a dilly of a pickle. All of its existing airframe designs are hilariously antiquated. It tried designing a brand new plane from a clean sheet, and lost billions of dollars to a decade-long integration hell. After that, to save money, it tried just tacking bigger engines on an older design without changing anything else, and the stupid things plowed into the ground in an excruciatingly public manner.

LAM is now trying a middle road. It is upgrading one of its designs that is merely middle aged, rather than ancient, and with proven, de-risked components built in-house, rather than scattering them to subcontractors across the world. And it's still blowing past deadlines and burning billions of dollars LAM really doesn't have to spare.

This is the program I've been assigned to.

Advanced Midbody - Carbon Wing has taken the bold step of just tacking on carbon fiber wings to a conventional aluminum fuselage. Shockingly, AMCW is now stuck in lightning strike testing, due to that troublesome join between conductive aluminum and conductive...ish carbon fiber. But LAM, confident as ever, or perhaps driven by complaints of its customers, has announced that full rate production will begin just next year. Thus the tide of newhires. According to the schedule, we're supposed to jerk from one wingset a month to one wingset a week. That's not going to happen, but, oh well, orders from above move down at the speed of thought, while reality only slowly trickles upwards.

"120 inch pounds? Really?"

I startle upright. I have observed one hundred pi bracket installs, and I will observe a hundred more before I can touch aircraft structure. This is the first disagreement I've witnessed. A more advanced trainee is questioning the torque spec on a fastener. It is not an entirely foolish question-- most sleeve bolts we use are in the 40 in-pounds range. Doubling it that is unusual. I cough the dust off my unused vocal cords and venture an opinion.

"Well hey I could look it up? I guess"

The lead mechanic glances at me, surprised that I'm still awake, then looks away. Excuse enough for me!

I unfold myself from the stool I've been sitting on for the last four hours then hobble over to the nearest Shared Production Workstation.

We do not get Ikea-style step by step instructions on how to put together the airplane. Like any company that's been around for long enough, LAM is a tangled wad of scar tissue, ancient responses to forgotten trauma. If you state a dimension twice, in two different places, then it is possible for an update to only change one of those dimensions, thereby making the engineering drawing ambiguous. Something real bad must have happened in the past as a result of that, so now an ironclad rule is that critical information is only stated once, in one place, a single source of truth.

As a result, the installation plan can be a little... vague. Step 040 might be something like "DRILL HOLE TO SIZE AND TORQUE FASTENERS TO SPEC". What hole size? What torque spec?

Well, they tell you. Eventually.

(Image from public Google search)

You are given an engineering drawing, and are expected to figure out how things go together yourself. (Or, more realistically, are told how it's done by coworkers) Step by step instructions aren't done because then dozens of illustrations would have to be updated with every change instead of just one, and drawings are updated surprisingly frequently.

Fasteners are denoted by a big plus sign, with a three letter fastener code on the left and the diameter on the right, like so: "XNJ + 8"

To get the actual part number, we go to the fastener callout table:

(Note the use of a trade name in the table above. There is nothing a mechanic loves more than a good trademark. Permanent straight shank fasteners are always called HI-LOKs™. It's not a cable tie, it's a Panduit™. It's not a wedgelock, it's a Cleco™. Hey man, pass me that offset drill. What, you mean a Zephyr™? Where'd the LAMlube™ go? This also means you have to learn the names of everything twice, one name on the installation plan, and one name it's referred to in conversation.)

We find XNJ on that table, and fill in the diameter: BACB30FM8A. Now we look up the spec table for that fastener:

The eagle eyed among you might note that there is no "diameter: 8" on that table. As a LAM mechanic, you are expected to simply know that "diameter" is measured in 32nds of an inch, which simplifies down to 1/4.

(LAM preserves many old-school skills like fraction reduction and memorizing decimal equivalents like this, like flies caught in amber. Not least is the universal use of Imperial units. Many American manufacturers have been browbeaten into adding parenthetical conversions. Not LAM! Any risk at all of a mechanic seeing a second number and using it by accident is too great, and anyway, it violates SSOT. Lengths are in inches and feet, weights are in pounds, volume is in gallons and if you don't like it then you can go eat shit!)

After 10 minutes of following references, I arrive at that table, print it off, highlight the correct row, and hand it off to my senior mechanic.

"Great, thanks."

Gratified that I have enhanced shareholder value, I sit back down, and immediately fall asleep. Another day living the dream.

(next post in this series)

#avgeek #large aircraft manufacturer

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suhnshinehaos · 6 months ago

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growing pains : epilogue

series synopsis : people say that you’ll experience three kinds of love in your lifetime. the first is an idealistic love, the kind that feels straight out of a fairy tale. the second is the hard love, the kind that will leave you with lessons about yourself and the love you want and need to experience. finally, the love you never see coming. this is the story of your three loves. pairing : svt 97 line x gn!reader genre/s : non-idol au, coming of age, angst, fluff, my attempts at humor

epilogue : a fourth kind of love

previous ➤ act three, part twenty growing pains ➤ masterlist

[ under a cut, it's a long one -- happy reading! ]

from reese, with all my love <3

my oh my.... this series is around two years in the making, and it has now reached its end it feels bittersweet to let this particular one go.

but if this series has taught me anything, it's that life will always move forward, and we carry love with every step we take. i truly hope this series resonates with you in the many forms love can take, how it transforms and moves through us, the platonic and romantic.

this series is about the three types of love, but in yn i also hope to show you a fourth -- which is why i ended on yn's twt about themself. growing pains has taught me so much, allowed me discover so many things through yn and the different arcs they have gone through. i hope it does the same for you.

thank you so much for reading and going through this crazy journey with me. i'd love love love to know what you think! get in the replies, the reblogs, the asks -- let's relive and close out this chapter together <3

i hope you're all well and i'll see you again soon

#🎐 — growing pains!#seventeen x reader #minghao x reader #seokmin x reader #mingyu x reader #seventeen imagines #seventeen fluff #seventeen smau #seventeen series #svt x reader #svt imagines #svt fluff #svt smau #svt series #minghao imagines #minghao fluff #minghao smau

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mellori · 1 year ago

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Hey so was ascrolling the locked tomb tag and saw a thing.

Everybody knows the list of reasons Kiriona's a big sad gay b-word when she shows up in Nona the Ninth. We've got:

• Hey so I just woke up in the corpse of my crush who sure seemed like she reciprocated my confession of love right up until she rejected my mortal sacrifice and decided she never wanted to think about me ever again

• My dead mom doesn't love me, actually, she passionately hated me and found the experience of having me both completely repugnant and horribly inconvenient

• The one thing I thought she'd given me across the veil of death i.e. my name - that was petty revenge against the guy who killed her and has nothing to do with me

• The name she did bother to give me was a not particularly funny joke about her plan to kill me immediately after my birth

• Also she's fr dead now I don't get to confront her about/unpack any of this

• Whoops I'm dead again. Totally speedran "fail my sworn oath to protect Harrowhark" this time let's relive that particular trauma

• Back again sorta and now my body is a horrific mockery of humanity meant to protect and preserve me forever because my Dad definitely asked before he did this

• Dad gave me everything I ever told myself that I wanted so now I can never earn any of it and all of it sucks actually, thanks pops

• Also he's currently in a depression spiral because his polycule imploded with a bunch of attempted and/or successful murders

• Also he's 10,000 years old and completely incapable of relating to me in any way

• Sudden onset proximity to power and influence means I can never trust anybody genuinely wants to be my friend and/or is actually attracted to me and not just sucking up to the new crown prince and heir

• Ianthe

I've read or listened to these books at least five times each and totally missed:

• Dad sure is famous for being the only person capable of performing a ressurection and he hasn't bothered to do that to me

#the locked tomb #tlt #nona the ninth #nona the ninth spoilers #gideon nav #kiriona gaia #jod #john gauis #harrowhark nonagesimus #ianthe the first #ianthe tridentarius #cw ianthe tridentarius #harrow the ninth spoilers #gideon the ninth spoilers

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sundrop-writes · 1 month ago

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Blood In The Water

Void!Stiles Stilinski x Fem!Reader

Beg me for mercy - admit you were toxic.

Now I am the violence, I am the sickness.

Won’t accept your silence - beg me for forgiveness.

We’ll never get free, lamb to the slaughter.

What you gon do when there’s Blood In The Water?

Summary:

Being Stiles's best friend, you are incredibly worried about him when you figure out that he is quite literally not himself - and that the thing currently occupying his body could be destroying it in the process. When you approach him to show this concern, Void takes a particular interest in you. He's not capable of love, or even fondness, but he likes you.

And he likes the way your fear spikes when you talk about Stiles. So he makes you a deal - he'll agree to take care of this fleshy, mortal host, in exchange for something more precious, more rare, and more delicious than the meal you have brought for Stiles.

He wants your pain. He wants your tears.

Void!Stiles Stilinski x Fem!Reader. Pining Best Friends. Extreme Emotional Angst, Hurt No Comfort. Set during Season 3 (with flashbacks to Season 1, Episode 11).

Word Count: 11,700

Teen Wolf Masterlist | AO3 Link

Full list of warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: as it says above - this is pure angst, hurt NO COMFORT, please heed that warning, if this is not something you are into, please leave now; this is set during Season 3, but not during any particular episode; I guess I need to put warnings for demon possession and identity theft (even though for the entirety of the fic, the reader does know that Stiles is not himself on the basis of knowing him so well, and she is talking to Void ernestly); this fic is about Void and the Reader interacting and discussing the relationship and feelings between Stiles and the Reader; the reader and Stiles have had mutual romantic feelings for each other for a long time but never acted on them, and at the point when the fic begins, their relationship is described as long-term best friends; the reader uses she/her pronouns and is mentioned to wear a dress and high heels to the winter formal dance; the reader's race, hair colour, size or looks in general are not described in any way (Void does call the reader 'little' but it is meant to be emotionally condescending, rather than a description of her size); this fic DOES use Y/N (proudly so); mentions of Stiles not eating/being starved because Void refuses to participate in 'human pleasures' (and he considers food to be one of those); Void is a demon who is fed by pain and he enjoys the Reader's fear, sadness, embarrassment, emotional pain, and other negative emotions, and he can feel those emotions in the air as she experiences them, so he is encouraged to do and say things that prompt negative reactions from her; Void calls the reader 'sweet thing' and 'darling' and 'little girl'; passing mention of Stiles watching porn (but the general tone of this fic is not sexual); Void compares the reader to Stiles's 'mommy' (because she is the only one who has ever given him soft, 'maternal' comfort and understanding) - but it's not a Mommy kink thing (or maybe it is for Stiles, you don't know that); mentions of eating diary and meat being 'cruel' (but I am not a vegan, it's just Void commenting on the way humans do things); the reader considers cutting herself with a knife to 'feed' Void her physical pain (but Void wants emotional pain instead); Void asks the reader to relive a painful memory by telling him about it, therefore feeding him with her emotional pain; Void threatens the reader with physical harm and even murder (to make her more fearful, and to taunt Stiles, who is forced to witness all of this); there is flashbacks to the winter formal episode in S1; mentions of the reader being jealous because Stiles took Lydia to the dance (and the reader hates the jealousy it evokes in her because she doesn't want to pit herself against Lydia and she wants to be happy for Stiles); mentions of Lydia being attacked by Peter Hale (as is canon); mentions of alcohol - the reader takes one sip of alcohol but does not get drunk during the fic; mentions of drunk driving (the reader drives after that sip of alcohol and questions if this 'counts' as drunk driving, and other people are accused of driving drunk, but in this fic, drunk driving is not actually the cause of any accidents); Stiles gets into a life-threatening car accident - mentions of blood and grievous bodily injury; mentions of Stiles needing surgery due to the car accident; mentions of blood; graphic descriptions of a character being stabbed. I believe that's it?

A/N: I have a lot to say here, so strap in. First of all, you're probably wondering why you're seeing this now. That is because I have been going through a very bad patch of mental illness (fuelled by multiple things, including the state of my physical illness) and when that happens to me, I become like a big spinning top of agitation and bad energy. And I feel the need to work on a project to avoid bad practices like self harm. And after a lot of whirling around and only working on certain projects for a few minutes at a time, I was cleaning out my files just to keep my mind occupied, and I came across the pictures I had saved to make the moodboard for this fic and I was like 'I can't delete those yet because I wanna use those to make the fic cover'. So I decided to make the fic cover, and it spiralled into me editing the whole fic just to keep my agitated upset mind busy and focused on something other than the fact that I am upset. So - good for you guys. You get a new fic. As for the actual content of this fic - I wanted to mark it as both Void x Reader and Stiles x Reader, but I figured that wouldn't make sense to most people. Because this is about Stiles and the Reader having mutual crushes on each other for a long time, and Void enjoying the embarrassment of taunting them about it, as well as the pain that comes from their pining and the potential of hurting the other and forcing them to watch. And Void does take a kind of 'liking' to the Reader, but because he's a demon, it's not necessarily romantic? Idk. I just have a lot of fun writing demon characters as complete bastards (I will never get people who write characters like Void, Anti, Dark as secret softies - like please, write a villain as a villain. It's more fun that way). So please - enjoy my take on this awful bastard. I had a lot of fun writing it. (Also I would like to note that I wrote this before I saw the end of 3A so I thought the 'crashing the Jeep' thing was a totally organic idea on my part lmao.)

...

“Stiles hasn’t eaten in days.”

You stated it very matter-of-factly, rather than asking if he had eaten or theorizing about it. It was something that you knew concretely.

Usually, Stiles was someone who was very passionate about food. He complained about missing lunch and hated being rushed to eat rather than getting to enjoy his food if you were nagging him about being late and had somewhere to be.

The only time you had ever seen him miss meals was when he got particularly sucked into his reading and researching. And usually, when his concentration finally broke, he would whine about his stomach hurting and only remember why when the smell of curly fries came under his nose because you had put the bag in front of him.

But even in that case, he had never missed more than a single meal.

You had never seen him go days without touching a single bit of food - without so much as mentioning something greasy he was craving or talking about a destination take-out spot that the two of you needed to go to on the weekend.

You had to guess that it was around the time that He had taken control. Or at least, around about when He had stopped caring to pretend to be human. When He had stopped putting up a front.

“Observant little thing, aren’t you?” He titled his head in that way that was so distinctly un-Stiles, giving you a small smirk as his words penetrated you with that utterly mocking tone.

It was strange, staring at the face of your long-time best friend and referring to him in the third person. Starting to think about him as though he wasn’t even there when you were staring right at him. Though it had only been a few days, you had long since given up the hope that you were talking to Stiles. You knew that this was someone else - something else entirely.

You were still clinging onto the hope that you could get Stiles through this and he wouldn’t be entirely damaged beyond recognition on the other side.

Hence, why you were trying to feed him now.

It had been at least four days since you had seen him take a single bite of food, and you had been carefully observing him the entire time. So you had arrived at his place today with an armful of Stiles’s favorite foods. You felt lucky to catch him alone while the others were out chasing leads - or perhaps, unlucky. Perhaps he would have eaten in front of them just to prove that he was still himself. But you were hoping to tempt him with the smell, at the very least.

Surely, he had to be hungry?

Laid out on the table in front of you was a variety of things - all kinds of things you knew would have had Stiles gorging himself in minutes. A disgustingly large and greasy double cheeseburger with curly fries and a strawberry milkshake, an extra large supreme meat lover’s pizza, an entire pack of Honey Buns, and a grocery store birthday cake - chocolate with vanilla icing. All of which elicited oddly painful memories for you, now that your best friend was being held hostage by a thousand year old demon.

Everything from movie nights where the two of you would share a pizza and argue about what kind of toppings to get, to the times that the two of you would buy a birthday cake like this and eat it in his Jeep with no such occasion for it - just because you wanted to celebrate life and didn’t want to need a reason for such a treat. Nights when balancing it between your laps and eating with plastic forks was all the joy in the world that you needed.

Nights before your life became so hellishly complicated.

“Let me guess… you’re trying to tempt me?” He posed, moving his finger across the icing of the birthday cake, and then looking at the white glob on his finger with intense disgust before moving to wipe it off on a napkin.

Of course, he wouldn’t even consider eating that small amount. He was taunting you. He knew that at this current moment, it was your greatest desire to see your friend eat - to know that even though you were entirely powerless against such a complicated and mysterious demonic force, you could do this one small thing in your power to take care of him.

You couldn’t save Stiles, but you wanted to care for him - just for a moment. You wanted to make a difference - even if it was as small as a grain of sand in an hour-glass. You thought it would help.

“Even you have to eat, don’t you?” You returned with a question. “You can’t risk your host dying, right?”

It was something you had wondered.

You hadn’t seen him drinking water either, and you didn’t think that he had slept at all. As far as you knew, he hadn’t attended to any of Stiles’s human needs. But according to the sallow, almost gray nature of his skin and the dark bags under his eyes - he wasn’t exactly in perfect health right now. So perhaps he did run the risk of actually killing Stiles altogether because he didn’t know how to take care of a human host.

Void smirked as he felt that flash of fear - the utter terror that overcame you at the thought of Stiles dying from neglect.

“Need I remind you, sweet thing?”

He started, the nickname causing a shiver of creepiness down your skin, like the feeling of walking into a spiderweb.

“I don’t eat the same deep-fried, fat filled crap that he does.” He looked across the table with disdain coating his features once again. “I feed upon the suffering of others.”

These words caused a wicked chill down your spine.

It was something that Scott had warned you of, but you hadn’t actually considered what it truly meant.

“So by depriving Stiles of his worldly pleasures - his music, his laughter, his pornography - which he watches far too much of, by the way.” Void let out a devious chuckle at this, and you didn’t even have time to think about the implications of this before he continued. “And especially by depriving him of food and sleep, I get to feed off his precious suffering.”

It was a terrible paradox. Void thrived while Stiles withered.

“And as of late, I have been so deliciously full.”

A lump formed in your throat - if you knew any words apt for this situation, you wouldn’t have been able to get them out anyway. Void’s smirk grew wider. Indulging in your suffering, in your fear for your best friend, your horror at these realizations - Void continued.

“But - among all those things, you know what he misses most of all?”

He posed, talking slowly, his voice calculated, mocking you with another head tilt. It was as though he was looking down upon you even though he was sitting in a chair at the kitchen table and you were standing across from him on the other side of the room.

You choked on a miserable syllable - no words came out. Part of you wanted to know the answer very badly, and part of you wanted him to shut up. You simply shook your head in reply.

“He misses you.”

Void whispered these words as though it was a precious secret. And then - he let out a grand cackle of a laugh, bordering on a howl as he continued to mock you.

Your insides shook, and you became foggy with confusion - how did Stiles miss you more than he missed food or water or sleep? How did he ‘miss you’ so much when you were standing right here in front of him? Did the presence of this horrid being keep Stiles from seeing you or hearing you? Was he trapped so terribly inside his own body?

Was this like a coma for him? Would he not remember any of this when it was over?

You could only hope that was the case.

“He begs and pleads every time I won’t let him touch you.” Void grinned, letting out another laugh - clearly pleased by the idea of Stiles’s misery. “He is so damn desperate to hold you. It’s hilarious, really. Especially because - at the same time, he’s terrified of what I’ll do if I get too close.”

These words put a terrible knot in your stomach.

You could only imagine how terrible it was for Stiles - he was a naturally touchy person, and now, someone else was controlling his body, keeping him from participating in the physical affection that he craved. Threatening to put his loved ones in danger if he did get the love that he desperately craved.

You didn’t want to know what Void would do if you walked across the room to hug Stiles. But at the same time, it made you yearn to hold him, to squeeze him tight, to give him the comfort he was clearly so badly in need of. Especially now that you knew his consciousness was still in there, alert and alive, fighting to get out.

“He’s so pathetic.” Void remarked softly. “He misses his Mommy, and… well, you’re the only one who ever treated him like a Mommy would. Isn’t that right?”

This sentiment confused you entirely.

You stared at him, gape-jawed, waiting for an explanation, and luckily - he did give you one.

“You held him close, and kissed his boo-boos. You… you were the only one who told him he was good enough when he never fucking was.”

You instantly wanted to argue this point, but you were more caught up on the overarching metaphor that Void was making.

All of the individual points were true. You had done all of those things for Stiles. But you didn’t see how that made you Stiles’s Mommy. It just made you a good friend.

“My Stiles is good enough.” You argued weakly, finally finding your words. “He’s a good person, and you can’t change that about him. He’s still in there. And he’s still going to be a good person after all this.”

Void tutted his tongue, giving another mocking smirk.

“Still at it.” He laughed. “You’re relentless, aren’t you?”

You didn’t care to respond to that.

“Beautifully relentless.” Void sighed, sounding almost dreamy as he said this. He sounded as if he admired this quality in you.

Which he did. But he admired this about you for one specific reason.

“See… that’s what makes the fear so fucking delicous.” He continued on, explaining. “When someone so bright, so full of hope finally gives up. When their spirit finally breaks. It permeates the air better than the smell of a rotting corpse - and it’s so fucking beautiful.”

You chose not to respond to this - baffled by his words, and slightly frightened.

Instead, you wondered something else.

“What happens if Stiles doesn’t eat?” You asked. “You said that you’re full, but he’s still human. It’s still a human body. A body that you’re currently living in.”

Void clapped his hands together a few times, slowly, giving you dry, sarcastic applause for your cleverness.

“Good question. Clever little girl.” He congratulated you, causing another wave of ‘ick’ to roll through you at his condescending tone. “He is my host, but currently, I rule all. I give him strength, I eliminate all his weaknesses. I turn his pathetic human form into the ultimate weapon. With me inhabiting his body, he does not need to eat, sleep, or drink. He does not need such tiny fallacies as comfort.”

“And what happens when you leave?” You posed.

“If I choose to leave.” Void smirked at you.

“When.” You ground out sharply, arguing, feeling braver the longer that you stood there and talked to him.

To you, he wasn’t all that scary.

Scott had warned you that Void was clever - that he would manipulate you and try to hurt you. But thus far, you hadn’t seen the route to any tricks. He seemed very straight-forward and honest. He seemed very plainly painted in his cruelty.

“If I choose to leave this host and move onto another, then… I suppose that he’ll collapse.” Void shrugged, speaking about it as if it were no more interesting to him than a fly in his peripheral. “Without my strength keeping him alive, all the exhaustion, all the hunger, all the thirst - it will hit him, all at once. He may even die from the shock alone. His body will be too weak and fragile to handle it.”

A surge of terrible anger flooded you. Perhaps it was fueled by fear, but either way, it drove you to smack your hand down onto the table, nearly smashing the birthday cake before you screamed out, finally lashing out on him.

“Motherfucker!” You called Void the first cruel name that came to mind, and he didn’t give any indication of reaction at your throat scraping volume. “You stupid bastard! You are gonna get out and give Stiles his body back, and when you do, you’re gonna return it in good fucking condition! You understand me?”

Void simply smirked, seeming entirely amused by your outburst.

Of course, he wasn’t scared of you - a powerless human. You had nothing to threaten him with. Even if you had the powers of a werewolf, he still wouldn’t fear you.

“There’s that spunk he’s always talking about.” Void said, an odd kind of fondness peeking through his voice that didn’t suit him. “You know, it’s almost… cute. I’m starting to understand why he likes you so much.”

You only became more pissed off at being called ‘cute’ when you were so boiling angry. It was entirely aggravating - someone being so condescending toward your rage.

Then, it hit you that the ‘he’ Void spoke about had to be Stiles. Did the two of them have conversations? Why would Stiles bother to praise you to a thousand year old demon?

It caused more of your affection for Stiles to bubble up inside you, and you hated it.

“Look, darling, because I like you, I’ll make you a deal,” Void posed, giving you yet another pet name that made you feel oddly disgusted.

Stiles had called you plenty of friendly nicknames before - he had even called you ‘babe’ jokingly, on occasion. But ‘darling’ had never spilled from his lips toward you. It was just another horrible reminder that he was so terribly not himself. That the thing wearing his face, puppeting him around was not Stiles.

“What deal?” You replied.

It was best to move on and start thinking of ways to take care of Stiles - ways to get him out of this mess.

“I’ll eat something for Stiles if you do something for me in return.”

You knew that he kept his wording purposefully vague. And you knew that this was likely what Scott had talked about - his intention to trick you. But Void had you right where he wanted you - desperate, fearful. He was manipulating you using emotions that he didn’t have.

“What do you want from me?” You dared to ask.

He smirked.

“I’ll tell you after Stiles has been fed.”

You took a moment to consider it, knowing that it was likely a terrible idea to agree to anything when it came to him. But he had you backed into a corner. He knew that he could get you to do anything while holding the culpability of Stiles’s wellbeing over your head.

“Oh no,” Void said, using an oddly soft, pained tone that varied so much from the emotionless, mocking tone he had been using before. He gripped at Stiles’s stomach, and let out a groan of pain that you knew had to be fake, as he professed before that he made Stiles’s body strong and invincible. “He’s begging for you to help him! You’re right, he hasn’t eaten in days, and he’s really feeling it now! It’s killing him!”

He was using your empathy to manipulate you.

“Stop it.” You protested, and it came out much weaker than you had intended - sounding much more like a plea than an order.

He clutched his stomach tighter, and then, he looked up at you with the saddest water eyes you had ever seen - for a moment, a single breath of a moment - you saw Stiles, your Stiles break through.

“Please, Y/N.” He said, crying out your name breathlessly. “Please, I’m so hungry.”

“Fine, fine!” You cried in return, barely realizing how close to tears you were, seeing Stiles beaten down, weak, begging for you to help him. “Fine, you’ve got a deal!”

In a moment of weakness, rushing to help Stiles, you reached out your hand to shake on it, signifying your promise - and in an instant, Void’s face shifted from that soft, vulnerable boy you knew back to that horrible demon, glaring at you as he reached out and grabbed your hand. You knew that many stories cautioned against making a deal with the devil, and you supposed that making a deal with Nogistune was just as bad.

But it was done now. All you could do was hope that Stiles would benefit from this.

A short while later, he had scoffed down a very large piece of cake and was halfway done with the cheeseburger, with you intently watching the whole time to make sure that there were no tricks involved on his part. You thought that the meal would mostly be silent, but he finally spoke up again, looking a bit less intimidating with some remnants of the meal smeared across his face.

“You know, one thing I can credit humans for…” He said, swallowing before he picked up one of the fries. “Their talent for cruelty. Grinding up an animal, frying it in its own melted fat and then covering it in the stolen milk meant to suckle its babes - that is something I can admire.”

“I’m sure vegans would love you.” You mumbled quietly, to yourself, not entirely sure if he could hear you.

“You should join me.” He remarked after another bite - motioning toward the table full of food. “It’s more polite than standing over me like a statue, gawking at me the whole time.”

You knew that with him holding Stiles hostage, you were in no position to refuse him. So you played right into his demands, pulling out the chair across from him without a word and flipping open the pizza box to grab a slice. You began eating in silence, and naturally - Void continued speaking.

“This is almost like one of those little dates that you used to have with him, isn’t it?” He spoke quietly, mocking you once again. “At least, that’s what Stiles called them. Dates. He was deluded enough to believe that if he didn’t speak it aloud, his affection for you would simply be known.”

This punched you in the gut, and you bit your tongue as you took your first bite of pizza. You sputtered with shock and Void continued to look amused. You never thought it was true. Scott always said that Stiles had feelings for you, and Lydia said so too - but you thought they were just theorizing.

You had never, ever thought that your best friend and long time crush - the person you were in love with - would ever feel the same way about you.

And you had to find out from a fucking demon.

You remained silent, busying your mouth with eating as you tried to process the shocking news.

“But we both really know what it was, huh? He was so pathetic… he didn’t want to be rejected by you, so he never even asked. He was never brave enough. Always so pitiful, and small. Your boy is just a coward.”

Again, you didn’t say anything. Not playing into his game - unaware of the fact that he could feel your annoyance in the air. He didn’t need you to voice your emotions in order to gain satisfaction from mocking Stiles in your presence.

So of course, he kept on going.

“But not as pathetic as he is right now. Sweet and pathetic, begging for your life. Begging for me to spare you. It’s almost like a song. He keeps on telling me to stay away from you as if he has any power over this.”

“Just shut up and eat.” You told him, sharp and even.

He nodded and continued, seemingly content with the deal you had made - for now.

And he finished the burger and fries, and two of the Honey Buns before scrunched up the wrapper on the last one, and then wiped his face with an utterly contented smile. Then he said:

“Now, time for what I want.”

You wiped off your face and hands with a napkin, done with your pizza - not having much of an appetite anyway with the situation at hand. There was a flash of worry in your mind. Wondering if he might ask you to kill someone for his benefit because they wouldn’t be expecting it to come from you. Or perhaps he might even ask for something sexual -

He let out a bright chuckle - almost as if reading your mind and highly amused by your thoughts.

“No, no. Don’t worry, darling. Nothing like that.” He told you. “I feed off of suffering. Precious pain. Anxiety, heartache, fear. Now it’s time for me to eat.”

You thought he might say something like that. And you had come prepared with that in mind - prepared to give up anything to get Stiles back.

You reached into the pocket of your jeans, pulling out a small pocket knife. It was one that Scott had given you shortly after you found out that he had become a werewolf. He had never wanted to hurt you, so - it was silver plated steel, and he had Stiles burn Wolfsbane smoke over the blade to poison it - just in case you ever needed a weapon against one of his kind. It would be useless against Void, and the Wolfsbane wouldn’t poison a human like you.

But the blade was more than sharp enough to cut you. It would hurt you. It would provide the pain that Void desired.

You shoved your sleeve up to your elbow and poised the blade at your skin, but Void reached out, stopping you.

For a heart-stopping moment, you thought that somehow, Stiles had regained control.

But when your eyes flickered up to his face, you saw nothing but Void’s dark amusement lingering in those eyes. This left you confused as he took the knife from your limp grip.

“As amusing as that would be, sweet thing, it’s rather… boring.” He declared tiredly. “I had something else in mind.”

Your throat dried up, and you didn’t even realize that you were trembling as you stared him down with terrible, anxious anticipation, waiting to see what he had in store for you.

Void licked his lips, practically lapping up the delicious, sweet taste of your fear.

He pocketed the knife and walked around the table toward you. You resisted the urge to get up and run away as he bracketed so close to your side, leaning on the table and tucking his face close to your cheek. Being this close to him, as close as you had been to Stiles since he had been taken hostage - you could almost be tricked by the faint smell of the familiar body wash coming off his skin, by the warmth that you knew to be so human.

But this wasn’t Stiles. A thought that only made it all feel so much worse.

It caused you to hold back tears.

“No, no, darling.” He whispered against your cheek, causing your throat to clench up again. “If I wanted your pain, I could have it. I could take it.”

Fuck. What had you gotten yourself into?

You held back a fearful whimper, and Void joyfully continued.

“I could smack you, punch you, make you bleed.”

He went on - the confidence of his words causing your trembling to become more apparent as your heart pounded in your chest. You considered running, but that would mean abandoning Stiles. You came here to check on him - to fight for him. You couldn’t chicken out now.

“I could take your pathetic little knife and stab you, over and over again while Stiles screams and begs for mercy. I do love it when he begs for your life - he’s so much more desperate when it comes to you.”

Dear god. Would he actually kill you just to force Stiles to watch? Did Stiles have to be conscious for something like that?

Would he force Stiles to live for the rest of his life with the guilt of not being able to stop your murder? With him in control, would Stiles even live that much longer?

“But no. That’s not the game I want to play. Not right now, at least.”

You hated that he likely saw the breath of relief as it flexed from your chest.

“What -what do you want, then?” You asked, your throat still clenched by fear, making your words come out choked and weak.

He put a hand on your cheek - one that felt all too familiar. The hand you had held while walking to class, or cuddling on the couch. The hand that dismissively waved in front of your face when you told him that he had come up with another horrible idea. Void turned your face toward him, and you were then up close and personal with the horrible sight of a pain-fueled demon wearing your sweet best friend’s face.

“I want your tears.”

Of course. Emotional pain, rather than physical. You would dare to say that it would be even more potent.

Good thing you were already so close to crying.

You would just have to spend a few more minutes thinking about Stiles trapped in there, helpless-

“Tell me about the accident.” He declared, smirking, finding the whole ordeal very satisfying.

“No.” You immediately replied.

It was too painful. You couldn’t even think about it, it was too much-

“No?!” He screamed in your ear, causing you to flinch. “Nobody tells me ‘no’! You promised me something, you stupid little bitch. Now hold up your end of the deal.”

Sadly, he was right. You had made a deal with him - and if this was part of carrying it out… you would have preferred the pocket knife.

Even just thinking about that night - the blood, the twisted metal, the terror you had felt. The anxiety, the waiting. It had all been so horrible. It had been hell. A worse hell than a dinner date with a demon who was wearing your best friend as a human skin suit.

Already, Void felt a deep satisfaction as those emotions began to permeate the air around the two of you. To him, it was the most beautiful kind of poison. He took a deep whiff, and then leaned in close again, running his nose along your hairline to sniff you.

You shrugged away from the touch, but didn’t have far to go without falling off your chair completely. You were happy when he pulled away again - feeling used and wishing for nothing more than Stiles’s comforting touch and assuring words.

“Perfect.” He mumbled quietly to himself. “You know, Stiles hardly remembers any of it. The night is almost completely blank in his mind.”

You didn’t know that. After the hospital, the two of you had never bothered to talk about it in order to compare stories. Like you always did, the two of you just moved on. You looked forward to brighter days, thankful that your friendship was still intact.

“But I know that you remember everything. Every. Single. Last. Detail.” Void said, giving another terrible laugh.

He grabbed onto the back of your chair, and using a strength that you knew didn’t belong to Stiles, he roughly tugged on it, forcing it away from the table and spinning you to face him. He came back around to stand in front of you - now, he would be the one standing to loom over you, watching you while you provided him with a delicious meal.

“So, come on,” He prodded. “I want to hear the whole story. And you better not leave anything out.”

He stood there in complete satisfaction, his arms crossed as he grinned down at you with a devilish smile.

You took a deep breath, fidgeting with your fingers for a moment. You gathered your courage, and then you began to speak.

This is for Stiles, you assured yourself. For Stiles.

“Well, it was the night of the winter formal.” You started off. “And when I saw Stiles screech out of the parking lot in his Jeep at top speed-”

“No, no.” Void shook his head, cutting you off. “I said start at the beginning.” He scolded you sharply. “That’s not the beginning, is it? I want all the details. Go back to the beginning of the night.”

“Are you serious?”

At first, you were utterly confused. He asked you to tell him about the accident. What did a high school dance have to do with a car accident?

“Of course, darling.” He smirked at you.

Then, it hit you. He didn’t just want the gorey details. He wanted every ounce of your suffering. He wanted Stiles to suffer too. Especially if he said that Stiles didn’t remember it. He wanted you to recount the entire night to Stiles from your perspective. It was why he had brought up Stiles’s ‘affection’ for you.

He wanted both of you to suffer in the misery that you had been in love with each other for so long and not been together. The stupidity that you were both blind idiots who kept each other from happiness the whole time.

So you took a breath, and you told your story how he wanted to hear it, starting from the beginning of the night.

…

You were utterly miserable.

It was one of the biggest dances of the year (well, aside from Prom and Homecoming…) and you didn’t have a date. You had spent a huge chunk of money, your savings from a crappy minimum wage job waiting tables, on a gorgeous dress and shoes, hoping that Stiles would ask you to the dance. But he was going with Lydia.

You guessed that you had to be happy for him. He had been crushing on her since the third grade, and he was finally going on a date with her. A good best friend would be happy for him.

But naturally, you were still trying to look your absolute best, maybe, selfishly, in the hope that he would see you from across the room and realize that he had made the wrong choice. Lydia was an amazing, sweet girl - and you genuinely hated the type of jealousy that this was making you feel.

You knew that logically, you had no claim over Stiles. He was just your friend, and he was more than free to go on dates with other girls. It was downright toxic of you to not ask him to the dance and then get upset when he happily went with someone else as his date.

But you tried not to think about that as you put the finishing touches on your look. You had gone all out with your best hair and make-up to compliment your expensive crystal blue satin dress. Whether it was to make yourself feel better or to try and capture Stiles’s attention - you still weren’t entirely sure.

“Lip-gloss?” Allison appeared behind you, holding a hand out, looking for the aforementioned product.

You handed it to her and she leaned down, looking into the mirror of your vanity while applying it. She had told you that getting ready at her own house would have simply been ‘too weird’ because she was fighting with her family, and she wanted some calm down time. So she had asked to get ready with you, with the offer that Jackson could give you both a ride from there.

“Look, I’m sorry.” She said, feeling too awkward in the silence as you applied your mascara, focusing on your work and not looking at her in the mirror. She knelt down beside you, guilt written across her face. “If I had known that you liked Stiles, I wouldn’t have set him up with Lydia.”

“It’s not a big deal.” You remarked. “Like you said, you didn’t know.” After a moment, you added on: “It’s kind of… good. Like a relief. I almost feel like it’s less pressure.” You shrugged. “I can just go and have fun without worrying about impressing him.”

You had been lying to yourself. You absolutely hated it with every fiber of your being. You didn’t want to be angry with Allison, but you knew that she was better friends with Lydia than she was with you. That’s why she hadn’t known about your feelings for Stiles before now. When she had asked why you seemed so upset about the news that the two were going to the dance together, you told her, and she explained with a sour, sad face that she had set them up.

You hated it, but you couldn’t help thinking that this was the first step to Stiles and Lydia becoming a thing - the first act in them dating for long months while you resented Lydia for stealing something you once saw as yours.

And you hated yourself for being that kind of person.

Allison chuckled at this.

“Yeah… Well, Scott’s not going at all, so none of us get to go with the person we want to be with.” She said in a deeply sad tone, obviously aching from her own problems.

…

“It’s a shame, isn’t it?” Void commented, drawing you from the memory. “A pretty girl spends too much money on a dress, trying to impress some moron who won’t even notice it.”

He was mocking Stiles again.

“And then you had to see him with her.”

You nodded.

You could picture it so perfectly in your mind. Getting out of Jackson’s car and seeing Stiles rush to open the door for her - the way he smiled at her, the way he looked at her like she held the world on the edges of her lips. You wanted nothing more than for him to look at you like that. Her perfect ‘strawberry blonde’ hair fluttering in the wind as they walked arm-in-arm across the parking lot.

It caused the most awful aching pain in your chest that you had ever felt. You didn’t truly know how precious Stiles was to you until you saw him with someone else.

You knew Jackson was aching too, for much the same reason. And when he had offered you a swig of his drink, you took it. But it wore off too soon for your tastes and you didn’t have more. So for the better part of the night, you were forced to feel your pain while his was drowned out by the booze.

“Tell me. Tell me how it made you feel.” Void egged you on, wanting you to say it out loud even though your pain was all too palpable in the air.

“Like I was dying inside,” You answered, your throat tight but - still no tears yet. “Like all good had drained from the world. Like I had lost the most precious thing in my life and I would have to sit at the sidelines watching a perfect story play out when I was supposed to be a part of it.”

Void took a deep breath, sniffing the air again. And then he chuckled.

“Your pathetic teenage angst is… so amusing.” He grinned at you, crossing his arms over his chest. “Do tell me more.”

You had no clue that somewhere inside of there, Stiles was hit with his own wave of intense sadness - something else for Void to feed off of. He had no clue that you had been in love with him for so long. He had no clue how many opportunities he had missed out on to tell you about his feelings - how long he could have been happily dating you.

He hated how much time the two of you had missed out on.

Void sat contently between Stiles’s complicit misery and your renewed angst as you continued the story.

…

You had moped around all night.

You thought perhaps the only person more miserable than you at that dance was Scott - stuck hiding in the shadows, forced to watch Allison dance with Jackson while pretending he wasn’t even there.

But eventually, he too got his way after making a huge scene that even stopped the band for a moment - and left Coach feeling embarrassed when everyone thought that he went off on a homophobic screaming tirade because Scott was dancing with Danny. Good thing Beacon Hills was pretty progressive.

After spending all night on the bleachers on the verge of tears, you decided to leave to get yourself a chocolate bar from the vending machine - nothing goes better with sorrow than chocolate, right? Well, perhaps Jackson had a point in pairing his sorrow with liquor. But you weren’t at that point yet.

You were considering just calling it a night altogether. But you saw Stiles standing by himself, sans Lydia, and you figured it was a good time to make your move, if you were going to make one.

You wandered over to him shyly.

You had been feeling so down about yourself, you didn’t notice the way his eyes traced over every inch of you with awe - the way his lips parted with slight shock and wonder at how beautiful you looked that night.

Just as he was about to tell you so, you spoke up.

“So… where’s Lydia?” You asked.

“Oh, uh - she went to go find Jackson.” He said, disappointment seeping through every single inch of his voice.

“Naturally.” You replied.

You wanted to rant and scream about how she wasn’t good enough for him if she was going to ditch him for a guy who supposedly didn’t even want her anymore.

Your eyes strayed over to Allison and Scott on the dance floor, looking at each other with nothing but affection - clearly, only thinking of the other person, so caught up in their own little bubble. She didn’t care that Jackson had ditched her. A small flare of jealousy went through you.

You wished that could be you and Stiles.

“Do you wanna dance?” You asked Stiles, hoping that you could have your moment, even if it meant stealing him away from Lydia (when she clearly didn’t care).

He gave you a shy grin. “Okay.”

You grabbed his hand and led him out to the dance floor, and his hands found a natural place on your hips while you softly draped your arms around his neck. The two of you swayed to the slow music for a moment before you spoke again.

“This is nice.” You commented, smiling.

Though it had felt impossible only an hour ago, you actually felt happiness creeping in. Standing there underneath the coloured lights, dancing with the one person you had wanted the whole time. It was nice. There was still a lick of mourning lingering in your chest. You knew that Stiles still only viewed you as a friend, and you weren’t sure if you could ever gather that courage to take the leap and tell him about how you truly felt. As much as you wanted to just pull him close and kiss him.

“You know, you were the one person I actually wanted to dance with tonight.” You continued on. “And-” You cut yourself off with a sigh, not wanting to sound too vulnerable.

“Yeah.” Stiles replied - though he sounded oddly distant and thoughtless.

When you looked at his face again, you realized that he was staring at something over your shoulder, and you craned your neck to see that he was gawking at his watch.

“Ugh, really?” You scoffed, pushing him away. “Is dancing with me so awful that you feel the need to time it?”

“No.” He shook his head furiously, hating what you were accusing him of. “That’s not - look, Lydia’s been gone for over ten minutes! I’m worried.”

You shook your head, sighing deeply in defeat. Of course he was still thinking about her.

“Did you ever consider that maybe she found Jackson? That maybe they’re off somewhere making out? That she just ditched you because she doesn’t give a shit about you?” You argued, full of pain, your voice raising in volume to the point where you attracted stares from others on the dancefloor.

A look of pure pain streaked across Stiles’s face at your words.

“Whatever.” Stiles shrugged. “I’m going to find her. Because I actually care about her. And because I trust my gut.” He sharply bumped your shoulder as he passed, leaving you feeling more rejected and horrible than ever.

You turned and fled from the room, scurrying away from the many eyes on you once you realized that people were still staring.

…

“His gut.” Void chuckled. “He always did have good instincts, didn’t he?”

He did. Stiles had amazing instincts.

Because you had been assuming the worst - believing that Lydia had ditched Stiles to go and make-out with Jackson, when in reality, she had been bleeding to death on the lacrosse field. Stiles had been more than right to go looking for her.

Given, that was before you even knew about the existence of werewolves and all the other bullshit that ran ramped in Beacon Hills. But it didn’t make you feel like any less of a horrible person when you found out.

“Did you ever consider what a selfish bitch you are?”

Void continued on when you didn’t speak, seamlessly picking up with his mocking. Of course, he knew all the weak spots to hit. He could feel right where you were soft and vulnerable - right where you flexed with hurt under his taunts.

“Whining about not getting to dance with some dork while an innocent girl was bleeding to death? Talk about priorities.”

“I didn’t know.” You replied, your voice stiff.

You knew it was a poor excuse. You knew that ultimately, you were selfish. You should have gone with Stiles to look for Lydia. You should have helped.

Distantly, caged up inside of Void - Stiles was eternally thankful about that argument. He was thankful that you had been distanced from all of it, kept away from Peter Hale’s hungry claws. He would have gone insane, having you and Lydia in hospital beds, side by side, not knowing what the fate of either of you would be.

“Yeah, you can just keep telling yourself that same bullshit, sweetheart.” Void said, his voice a low whisper. “But we both know what you are. Maybe in reality, you’re not that much different from someone like me.”

Maybe that realization hurt more than anything.

Maybe that was his intention - to hit you with a truth that would wound you.

“You know… he still thinks about you in that dress.” Void spoke quietly again, carefully, painstakingly choosing each word. “How… beautiful you looked. His perfect rare crystal.”

He put emphasis on each word in a way that sent chills down your spine. His sharp gaze coming from Stiles’s honey whiskey eyes felt infinitely darker, and rather than feeling treasured as something good, something valuable like you usually did when Stiles looked at you - you felt filthy. You felt a sense of fear, knowing that Void would use Stiles precious appreciation of you to hurt him. To hurt both of you.

“That was the night he knew for certain that he was in love with you.” Void let out another laugh - dark and low. “The night he knew that he loved you more than he ever loved Lydia. She was laying in front of him dying, and still - all he could think about was protecting you. Protecting you from the threat.”

Your throat clenched up, and anything you were going to say was lost.

“I guess he’s selfish too, isn’t he?” Void posed. “You two are perfect for each other, I suppose.”

Then, he put on a weak, small, wobbling voice, and began to mock the unique, crippling fear that Stiles had experienced that night.

“Where’s Y/N? I need to find her. I need to protect her. Is she next?”

Nausea tightened in your stomach.

A unique tightness clutched at your chest.

Stiles had known he was in love with you that night.

He had been trying to protect you.

Is that why he had fled from the dance so suddenly?

“Ask me the question.” Void grinned, entirely excited now that you had put it together, made the realization. “Come on, ask me the question. We both know you want to.”

“Why are you doing this?” You choked out.

This was not the question he wanted.

But still, he indulged you.

“I told you.” He said firmly. “I like pain.”

He took a step forward then, leaning down, bracketing his hands by your hips on the wooden kitchen chair’s seat, his face tight in your personal space once again.

“Now… ask me the question.”

You took a shallow breath.

You hated how intimidating he was. You hated knowing that if it had actually been Stiles who was this close to you, it would have given you butterflies or even turned you on, but instead - you felt anxiety having him this close.

You couldn’t help but to give him what he wanted.

“What really happened that night?” You whimpered out, terrified of that answer. “Why did Stiles leave the dance?”

Void grinned.

“What a brilliant question. You are such a clever girl.”

…

All of it happened so fast.

Stiles spotted Lydia from afar - her red hair very distinctive. Then he saw it - a humanoid shape transforming into a big, black beast. Razor sharp teeth and claws.

He begged for her life, and he had been given one chance to spare her - a single call to Jackson. Luckily, the asshole picked up. (It was the one time in Stiles’s life that he had ever been thankful for Jackson’s existence.)

And then, he was being kidnapped, forced into his own car and being forced to drive to God knows where.

Of course, he was far too busy with the panic of it all, and he didn’t notice you.

He didn’t notice you - stumbling into the parking lot, looking for him in order to apologize for what you had said. He didn’t notice you watching with suspicion and confusion as his Jeep pulled out of the parking lot at top speed. He didn’t notice you going into your purse for your phone, looking to call his dad, considering making a report to him about it - only to find Jackson’s keys in your purse from earlier that night. Because when you had spotted him still drinking more than an hour into the dance, so sloshed that he could barely stand, you had demanded his keys from him, telling him that you wouldn’t let him drink and drive.

Stiles hadn’t noticed you getting into Jackson’s car and stealing it in order to trail behind him to see where he was going - just in time to miss Jackson running through the parking lot screaming for help with Lydia’s limp body in his arms.

Stiles was too busy with panic and anxiety to notice any of that, far too busy wondering if he was going to get out of this alive. And now, he was driving down a deserted backroad with Peter Hale in his passenger’s seat, who was making entirely sexist remarks about how Lydia would end up ripping his throat out ‘twice a month’ if she survived The Bite.

“You know, you didn’t have to protect her from it.” Peter droned on, increasing Stiles’s anxiety and annoyance. “It’s going to make her whole life better. She’ll thank me for it when she’s ready.”

“You should have just left her out of this.” Stiles bit back. “Lydia is a good girl. She doesn’t deserve any of this.” He huffed. “If she dies, I swear to god, I’ll-”

“You’ll what?”

Peter chuckled, grinning, seeming amused by Stiles’s vague, likely unbackable threats. Stiles ground his teeth, not responding - hating that they both knew he wouldn’t be able to follow through on anything he threatened. Not when Peter could kill him with one clean swipe of his claws.

“You’re protective. I do admire that in a man.” He paused, thinking. “Though, I suppose… you’re not quite a man, are you? At least not yet.”

Stiles bit his tongue, not wanting to make any further threats that he couldn’t live up to. He had seen what Peter could do, and unfortunately - he knew that he didn’t have the physical force to fight against him.

So what the hell could he do?

That was the question that made Stiles’s mind tink on anxiously, convincing him further that he just might end up dead tonight.

“What about your other pretty friend?” Peter wondered aloud, changing the subject suddenly in a way that confused Stiles. “Are you just as protective of her?”

“What? Are you talking about Y/N?” Stiles’s heart began pumping even more viciously with anxiety, absolutely terrified that you were on Peter’s radar.

He hated that he knew Peter could hear it - that spike in his heart rate that indicated his fear, his weakness.

“The one in the blue dress.” Peter told him, seeming almost disinterested in the conversation as he picked at his nails. Stiles’s heart thumped harder in affirmation, and Peter continued. “She wears that lovely vanilla perfume-”

“Leave her out of this!” Stiles screamed at the top of his lungs, rage overtaking him so suddenly that he almost swerved off the road - Peter reached over and corrected this, rolling his eyes at the outburst.

Stiles clenched his jaw tightly and looked ahead at the road, fuming.

(Driving behind him in Jackson’s car, you wondered why his driving was suddenly so erratic.)

“You leave her the hell alone.” Stiles huffed, praying that there was some finality to his words.

“That would be a little difficult, considering that she’s been following us for half a mile.” Peter grinned. “I am going to have to speak to her about this whole matter when we arrive.”

Stiles thought that Peter was bluffing - trying to use you as leverage to get him to co-operate, just as he had done with Lydia. But when he squinted into the rearview mirror, he saw… Jackson’s car? And a flash of blue in the driver’s seat that must have been your dress.

Fuck.

He was so screwed.

“What do you mean ‘speak to her’?” Stiles questioned, entirely panicked.

“Well, we can’t have her running back to the Argents to warn them.” Peter smirked. “Perhaps, I can convince her how beneficial the Bite would be to her-”

“No!”

Stiles screamed, his voice filling up the entire cab of the Jeep with the might of his protection toward you.

“Enough! Okay? Enough. You can do whatever you want with me - I’ll do whatever you want, I swear. And then you can kill me when you’re done with me so I won’t blab.” His voice tightened up around these words, slightly frightened to resign himself to this fate, but he was willing to do whatever it would take to protect you. “Just leave her the hell alone.”

“And if I don’t?” Peter asked, taunting, clearly enjoying the emotional reaction prompted from Stiles trying to protect you. “What can you possibly do about it?”

Think. Stiles wanted to bang his head against the steering wheel. Think, think, think, Stiles! You’re supposed to be the clever one.

An idea popped into his head.

It wasn’t clever. It wasn’t good. But it was the only idea that he had.

And when he took one last glance in the rearview mirror and realized that you were about twenty feet back - more than enough to hit the brakes in time - he resigned himself to it.

He put his seatbelt on, and then - he harshly turned the wheel toward the nearest tree and - he gunned it.

…

The crash shocked you.

You slammed on the brakes as quickly as you could, and came to a stop a few feet behind the tree that Stiles had rammed into. You stumbled out of the driver’s side door in shock, tears in your eyes as you wandered toward the Jeep - which was now nothing more than a heap of twisted metal, smoking, the horn blaring loudly where it was crumbled against the tree.

“Stiles?” You called out, praying that he would answer you. “Stiles?”

You slowly came around the car, finally able to get a good view of him through the smashed driver’s side window.

He was entirely still, collapsed against the air-bag that had emerged from the steering wheel, blood smeared all over the white material. So much blood. It painted the smashed front windshield, dripped through his shirt. He was so still. He wasn’t moving. He-

“Stiles?”

When he didn’t respond, you let out a loud sob.

“Stiles? Come on - you - you have to-!” You couldn’t contain another sob as it tore through you, making you utterly breathless.

You had been so distraught that you didn’t notice the passenger side door was wide open, even though there was not a single trace that anybody had been sitting there. Even if you had noticed, you likely would have chalked it up to the door being flung open from the force of the crash.

Your ears were pounding with blood from the shock and you didn’t even notice the wolf-like howls echoing into the night above you.

…

“I thought he was dead.”

Your body couldn’t contain another sob when you got to this part in the story - finally providing Void with the tears he so desired.

As you went over the horrors of that night in your mind, they now poured freely down your face. Your pain was made even worse with the stunning realization: Stiles had done it all to protect you. Put himself in danger, gone through so much pain - all to protect you.

Void smiled at you - a terrible, haunting grin that he mocked you while wearing the face of the man you loved the most.

“So beautiful.” He hummed, reaching out and wiping your tears - not to comfort you, of course. He gathered the wetness on his fingers and brought it to his lips, licking it. At this, he gave a satisfied sound. “So much pain.”

“Are we done now?” You asked, wanting to be alone to wallow in your pain.

Truthfully - you wanted nothing more than the comfort of Stiles. You wanted him to hold you and tell you that everything would be okay in the soothing way that he always did. You wondered if hugging Void would feel the same. You wondered if you could close your eyes and pretend, even for a moment.

“No.” He told you, enjoying the extra little bit of anguish he could wring from you by telling you this. “Because that wasn’t the worst part, was it?”

…

“Look, Noah, it’s probably nothing.” Melissa said firmly, doing her best to try and soothe the fellow parent. Sheriff Stilinski had already been at the hospital to take a report on what had happened to Lydia when something else came over the radio - a car accident report about a crash involving a blue Jeep. “Stiles isn’t the only person in this town who drives a-”

Before she could even get the words out, the paramedics came bursting into the ambulance bay, wheeling in a bloodied, unconscious Stiles on a stretcher with you walking beside them, holding his hand.

“My boy.” The Sheriff sobbed, rushing to reach them.

Melissa knew that the doctors would likely need to get him up to the ER with the kind of condition that he was in, so she moved to escort you and the Sheriff to the waiting room. She wrapped an arm around your shoulder, and you refused to be pulled away - you refused to let go of his hand.

“He needs me.” You bawled, tears still steadily streaming down your face. “He needs me!”

“Let them work, sweetie, just-” Melissa argued gently, trying to be understanding about the kind of shock you were in.

“He needs me! He needs me!”

She held you back, tearing your grip off of Stiles so that he could be escorted to the ER. Melissa began to cradle you comfortingly, rubbing a hand on your shoulder.

There was only a short moment of silence before-

“What the hell happened?” The Sheriff turned to you, barking the words loudly, obviously yearning for answers about how Stiles had gotten hurt.

“I - I don’t know.” You answered meekly, feeling intimidated by him.

“Was he drinking? Were you two partying?” He screamed, getting closer into your space.

Quickly, Melissa stepped between the two of you, putting a hand on Sheriff Stilinski’s chest to keep him at bay.

“Noah, stop it-”

“Was he drinking?” He pressed, forcing the words out slower, as though you were too dumb to understand.

“What? No!” You quickly replied. “Stiles doesn’t drink!”

(That had been a lie. You had seen him drink a few times at parties. But you knew that he was a firm proponent of designated sober drivers because of how many accident reports his father had filed from drunk drivers that involved death.)

“Even if he was, I would never let him drive! Stiles would never let anybody drink and drive because that’s what you taught him!”

You felt a slight bit of guilt, knowing that you had sipped on Jackson’s bottle and gotten behind the wheel. You wondered if that one single sip made you guilty of the crime that Stiles was so very much against.

Before you could dwell on it too much, you continued.

“I took Jackon’s keys from him to keep him from drunk driving! That’s how I followed Stiles in the first place.”

“You used my car?” Jackson appeared behind you suddenly, taking on an accusatory tone.

Everyone ignored him.

“Well? Where was he going? What was he doing? How the hell did this happen?”

“I. Don’t. Know.” You ground out slowly. “It’s not like it was my fault!”

…

Void let out another astrid laugh.

“Oh, but it was.” He grinned. “It was all your fault. How did it feel lying to a police officer about the fact that you almost killed his son?”

“I wasn’t lying.” You replied, your throat gripped by tears. “I didn’t know.”

You were glad that you hadn’t known the truth at the time. You weren’t sure if you could have faced the Sheriff, knowing that Stiles’s near death experience had been all your fault.

“Would you look the Sheriff in the eyes and tell him that now?” Void asked. “Or would you apologize? Tell him that it’s all your fault that stupid, infatuated Stiles crashed his car into a tree trying to save you?”

“I-” You choked out, truly unsure what to say. “I don’t know.”

“Would you have taken his place?” Void snipped, quick to berate you with more questions.

“What?” You parroted back, slightly confused.

“Would you have taken his place?” He repeated. “You - caught up in that heap of twisted metal, carted off to the hospital to be poked and prodded by doctors, cut up, barely alive? Him - crying at your bedside like a pathetic idiot?”

You had never considered it. You didn’t think it was wise to dwell on the past or mull-over hypotheticals like that. But truthfully - you thought that what had happened to you was worse. You thought that Stiles got the better end of it, sleeping through most of it while you had to steep in your pain.

“Y-yes.” You said, hesitating slightly, feeling as though this was the proper, kind answer - saying that you would have taken the physical pain for him - that you would have laid in the bed and taken all of it in his place if you could have.

“Uh-oh.” Void said, shaking his head. “Nobody likes a liar, Y/N.”

How he knew that you were lying, you had no clue.

But you were eager to move on from it before he prodded you about it any further. So you quickly moved on with your story.

“And then, there was the waiting.” You told him. “We had to wait hours for him to come out of surgery, wondering if he was going to live. And then I waited for weeks by his bedside, wondering if he was ever going to wake up.”

You swallowed around a painful knot in your throat as you remembered it.

“So perfectly pathetic, isn’t it?” Void commented. “The way that you showed up to that hospital every single day - spent nights sleeping beside him in an uncomfortable plastic chair, just waiting… every single day waiting to see if he was going to wake up. Or rather - seeing if he was going to finally slip away. Waiting to see if he was finally going to die.”

You let out more tears and Void sniffed the air again, taking a deep breath, enjoying the depth of your pain.

“I wish I could have been there.” He remarked. “Every single day, you mourned over him. You cried for him. What a waste of sweet suffering.”

He let out another laugh. You go do nothing more but sit there and let him mock you, let him indulge in the suffering that you had promised him.

“You showed up every single day and he didn’t even know it. You talked to him, read to him, played him music… not even knowing if he could hear you. Thinking that he could hear you, but just… hinging it all on that tiny ray of hope.”

You thought for certain that Void would confirm then and there that Stiles had never heard you when he had been comatose, because before he had said that your hope being broken was ‘delicious’.

But what he did next hurt so much more.

Because of course, he knew the worst, most perfect ways to hurt you.

“You read him The Velveteen Rabbit… because he said that his Mommy used to read it to him.”

Void said, mocking deep in his voice. And then, he put on a shrill impression of you as he spoke again - repeating word for word what you had said to Stiles when you had been at his bedside. Private words that had been meant only for Stiles.

“‘Stiles, you have to wake up. You have to wake up so we can be together again. Look, I know I messed up before, but… I really like you. I might even love you. Fuck it - I do love you. I’m in love with you, and you - you have to wake up so that I can spend the rest of my life loving you.’”

He burst into laughter with these last words, cutting right through you.

“Well, newsflash!” He screamed, startling you with his sudden volume, shaking you. “Stiles isn’t going to wake up this time. He’s never coming back again. You’re going to spend the rest of your life alone.”

“He will.” You said weakly, knowing how defeated you sounded. “He’ll come back. He’ll come back to me, I know it.”

You and Void both knew that you were trying to convince yourself with these words.

Void pulled up his shirt, showing off the long, jagged scar in the middle of Stiles’s stomach - the scar he had from the accident.

“See this? This is his human weakness.” Void stated. “I came along and I made him into something so much better. I made him strong. I made him-”

“You ruined him!” You screamed, finally standing from your chair, hyper charged with your own rage now. “You took away everything that made him good - his sweetness, his kindness, his empathy. You-”

“No, sweetheart.” Void grabbed your face, shutting you up and causing sharp shocks of pain across your head as he roughly jostled you. “Those things have always been his downfall. His stupid kindness and empathy caused him to crash himself into a fucking tree tyring to protect you. You - a dumb bitch who is still willing to put herself this close to a demon who could gut her in a second without a single care.”

You held your breath. You waited for him to do something more - to truly attempt to harm you.

And then, after a paralyzing second of staring into those dead eyes - he let you go again. You took a step back. You should have run - you should have run, and run, until you found Scott or someone else. But he was right. You were a dumb bitch. Even now, you couldn’t abandon Stiles.

“You know, it’s even the same thing right now.” Void grinned. “The minute he gets back the slightest bit of control, he keeps trying to crash the damn car. He keeps trying to protect you!”

He burst into laughter again, and your insides shook with fear.

You knew that Stiles ‘crashing the car’ this time would only end with him dying. And you weren’t sure which was worse - him living in there, trapped and tortured while a demon controlled his body - or him killing himself to end all potential harm that Void could do to you and anybody else.

“Even now, he’s begging me to shove this pathetic little knife into his neck,” He said, taking your knife out of his pocket and raising it up to his jugular. “Just so that there won’t be a single chance of me hurting you.”

Your chest jumped.

Upon instinct, you stepped forward and grabbed his wrist, attempting to pull the knife back - but of course, Void was much stronger than you, and his grip didn’t budge. Not even a slight bit.

Your heart raced as you began to panic.

“Please, don’t-” You muttered out, knowing that begging was likely your only course of action, whether Void or Stiles was the one in control.

He grinned. “What are you going to do to stop me?”

You had an idea. A terrible one.

You leaned in, sealing your lips onto his - feeling chapped skin against yours and for a moment thinking that you had a one-way ticket to getting stabbed. But then, you felt the stiff, tense form underneath you soften up. You felt a gentle sigh, a sigh of relief leave Stiles’s lips as he pressed back, pushing into the kiss as though he had been yearning for this for centuries.

The hand holding the knife to his neck shook - sharp spasms going through the muscles as he battled with himself. And after a moment, he dropped the object to the floor with a quiet clatter. Then, he brought that hand to smooth across your back in a gentle, comforting way that could have only been Stiles.

You pulled away from the kiss after a moment, and when you looked into his eyes, you knew for certain that it was him. The softness, the sadness, the apologetic mourning.

“Y/N-” He croaked out, releasing a few years of his own.

“Hang in there, my love.” You told him, reaching up to gently grasp at his cheek.

And then, just like the sun peeking through on a cloudy day - he was gone.

Void’s horrible grin took over once again, and all the life dropped out of those eyes.

“You truly are pathetic.” He said, giving another horrible laugh.

Perhaps he was trying to convince you that Stiles had never been there, that it had only been a trick, but - you knew what you saw.

Void hated it.

It was something that he absolutely hated to admit, but you gave Stiles strength. You were likely the only person in town, likely the only thing on earth that could have given him - a weak, stupid, pathetic human, the strength to overpower the epic thousand year old demon that had taken control.

In that moment, in an instant, he decided that you had to be eliminated.

Void didn’t hesitate to reach down and pick up the knife.

“No-” You gasped out.

Before you could blink, he grabbed your shoulder, shoved you against a nearby wall, and plunged the small blade into your stomach. He didn’t stop just once - he stabbed you again, and again, and again - creating a flurry of blood and mashing flesh that caused you to gasp from the pain and sheer shock that overtook your body.

It didn’t hurt as much as you expected it to. It was like a simple pinprick - nothing more painful than a needle piercing your skin for a routine blood sample. But when you felt the intense hot waves of blood pouring out, soaking your clothes - you knew that it was bad. You were already shaking from the shock and you knew that him pressing against you was the only thing still holding you up.

Void took a tight hold of your face, both your cheeks in one blood-coated hand, and pressed his forehead tightly into yours.

“Look at her.” He growled out, his voice as sharp and frightening as ever. “Look at her. Look at her while she’s dying.”

You knew in an instant that he wasn’t talking to you.

“Look at what you’ve done, Stiles!” He screeched, his voice harsh, almost distorted. “All that begging… all that begging - all for nothing!”

“It’s okay.” You huffed out, reaching up, your hand surprisingly bloody, trying to touch his cheek in comfort. “It-it’s okay.”

You were determined to survive this. Or - at the very least - you didn’t want Stiles living with the guilt if you didn’t.

“Stiles-”

Void wouldn’t stand for it. This comfort.

He quickly stamped out this truth with a few more quick, violent jabs of the knife into your gut, forcing Stiles to watch as he violently eviscerated you.

Then, he tossed the knife aside and let you slump to the floor before he walked away.

He left you for dead, all too pleased with how utterly the sight of you bloodied and limp tortured Stiles.

He left you there, not knowing that he left you with just enough determination - just enough life left you to drag your shaking body to the phone and get a bloody hand wrapped around it.

...

Please keep in mind, this is a oneshot, so there will not be a sequel or a 'Part 2'. If you enjoyed this fic, please consider reblogging it to show your appreciation, commenting on this fic, or you can take a look at my Teen Wolf Masterlist for more of my fics from this fandom.

However, please do not comment on this fic asking for a sequel or asking for more - I generally consider that stressful and impolite. If you are going to comment, please comment about the body of work that has been written.

Because I ended the fic the way I did, I do have some ideas for a potential sequel, but it's not something that I am rushing to write, and it's not something that will be on my schedule anytime soon. If you would like to, you can come into my inbox and chat about my ideas for the potential sequel - but right now they are just ideas and they will stay that way for a long time before becoming a full realised story (if they ever become one). I hope you enjoyed this fic as the capsule story oneshot that I always intended for it to be, and that you enjoy my other works if you do check them out.

#sundrop writes #teen wolf fanfiction #void!stiles x reader #void!stiles #stiles stilinksi imagine #stiles stilinksi fanfiction #stiles x reader #stiles stilinski #stiles stilinski x reader #teen wolf #teen wolf x y/n #teen wolf x reader

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inner-viper · 9 months ago

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Your first time with your FS (Detailed Ver)

Hello, I decided to do this reading because surprisingly I haven’t done a full version of it.

Pile 1

The Cosmic Slumber Tarot:

Five of Cups, King of Torches, Nine of Pentacles, The Magus, and Ten of Torches

Tarot of Sexual Magic:

The Empress, 8 of Wands, 9 of Pentacles, Ace of Chalices, and 3 of Swords

This will happen when you are feeling sad, I feel like something upset you and you will want to feel comforted. Perhaps throughout the day, someone made a rude remark. For some who choose this pile, you are having a bad day. You will be focusing on the remark or the negativity. Sometimes you have tendencies to get into your head, and this is one of those days. No worries because you can always try your best to just be!

Now, your FS will want to cheer you up. They will notice that there is something off about you. I am getting this vibe that some of your FS was the one making the rude remark. Anyway, they will want to make up the day for you! They will take you out on a trip, shopping, eating, and strolling around. On this particular day, they are feeling horny, they will be in their sexual energy and will desire to be one with you.

So I see that people who choose this pile have a rich FS. They got their money up and their finances are taken care of, this means that they will take care of you. They will invite you to a fancy hotel with amazing views, or it could be their luxurious place. I see that they have set up the bed and would like to have things prepared for you, I see that you both did plan to have a date in mind! After a long non-sexual relationship, you both are ready to dive into a new experience together!

The sexual act will be fun, it will feel reliving. It’s like you both are finally reaching the highs that you wanted to with each other. I see that you both like to spend some time together reminiscing about your time spent together. It will be a cute moment, where you both will stare into each other and admire each other. Seeing through one another, walls being torn and your soul staring at the other present soul.

You both carry past burdens that may have been affecting your relationship, there will be a sense of wanting to liberate yourselves from setbacks. This is a beautiful transformation that will happen, you both will move on to the next chapter. It’s like a rite of passage, things are more serious and commitment is strong. Lust has been invoked in its purest form, a sinful desire lies awake. Ready to consume each other.

You will be dominant…

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Pile 2

TW: Degrading

The Cosmic Slumber Tarot:

Six of Torches, Eight of Swords, Six of Pentacles, Prince of Cups, and Prince of Pentacles

Tarot of Sexual Magic:

Temperance, 8 of Chalices, 5 of Swords, Knave of Swords, and 7 of Swords

You are someone who is popular, a person that is for the community. You represent something strong in other people’s lives, everyone who has chosen this pile has a heart of gold. Your general energy feels like someone who wants to help their community and build a safe space for everyone. Some people who have chosen this pile are famous, or very well-known in their communities!

Now, your FS knows that you are someone who is charismatic. You are charming and playful, someone who speaks well and knows where they are headed in life. I see that there will be a scenario that they will be jealous of you because of how attractive you are. There could be an instance of a person coming towards you and flirting with you. They may not be there at first and could be walking towards you and will get upset that someone is trying to steal you away from them.

Although, your intentions and actions mean well. In your perspective, it is your job to be charming. To be a little flirtatious and that doesn��t mean you want to leave your partner for someone else. Your partner may be sensitive at times because they are afraid of you leaving them for someone else. You will explain to them how you view this interaction and they will calm down.

You are beautiful and they know that your features and body are beautiful! You will playfully tease them after they cool down. Your attention will be back on them and you will focus on flirting with your partner. Making them feel special and having all the attention to themselves. This will eventually lead to an evening of passionate lustful sex. Your desires grow for each other, they will be feening to take control. Showing who is the one who “owns” you.

They can be quite selfish and over-possessive. This will be evident in the evenings that you both spend with each other. They can be childish at times, and they aren’t focused on the world around them. Although, they will be awakened to mark you up, to see you being “owned”, this manifests in their sexual desires and fantasies.

They will want to put their face in your butt…

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Pile 3

The Cosmic Slumber Tarot:

Princess of Swords, Eight of Cups, Temperance, Four of Cups, Eight of Torches

Tarot of Sexual Magic:

Knave of Chalices, 10 of Swords, 9 of Swords, 8 of Wands, and 3 of Chalices

This will happen when you are in a state of being strong, independent, and confident. You have this fearless energy around you, or you are perceived that way by many. Your FS thinks that you are someone who is strong and is always standing up for yourself. They will find it very attractive, it’s a quality that elevates your character.

There seem to be some challenges that you will face on that day, you both have spoken about wanting to drift your relationship into something more. You both will discuss things and mention how the current relationship doesn’t feel that “serious” despite the both of you being very serious and committed to each other. A venture into a new path, what lies ahead is a testament to your passionate love, lust, and emotions.

There will be some waiting period for this event to occur, you both will remain patient and may engage in phone sex. There will be risky messages sent, private photos, and videos. It’s erotic, also it seems like some of you are confident over the phone but in person. If that doesn’t resonate with you, then it could be your FS. There is attention to detail on their end, they will point out the things you mention when you both meet up.

However, someone here is shy and will want to initiate sex. There is an insecurity stemming from this person. They don’t feel confident enough to bring it up, and this could be your FS. You may be the one to lead because of their shy personality, but once they are in bed they aren’t shy anymore. It’s a very contrasting relationship but one that compliments each other.

The sexual act will be fast, there will be a climax reached in a short time. There does seem to be a focus on wanting to bring new experiences that can bring both of you closer. I see that you both will explore different kinks, positions, and locations. It is like a journey of sexual freedom, you both after this experience will feel comfortable sharing your specific likes and dislikes.

There will be an emotional bond that will develop..

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spidey-webz · 2 months ago

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505 | Logan Howlett

Summary: You're long gone and Logan only has the memories of you left. One evening, he decides to relive them again and almost feel you around him once more... (loosely inspired by "505" by Arctic Monkeys)

Pairing: Worst!Logan Howlett x f!reader

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, lots of angst, reader has died in Logan's universe, hints at masturbation, p in v sex, unprotected sex, dirty talk, light choking, breast play (a little), oral (f receiving), alcohol, use of petnames (bub, baby...), it's a little sad, happy end ig? , MOST OF THIS IS A FLASHBACK/LOGANS MEMORIES

Word count: 4.3k

Masterlist

Wade was on a date tonight.

The apartment was strangely quiet without his roommate’s annoying voice. Blind Al was meeting up with friends too, so it was just Logan in the quiet space.

A few weeks ago, he might have sought out the first bar he could find on an evening like this. But not today. Today, he just wanted to take time for himself. Watch some trashy sitcom on TV and order himself two pizzas just for himself. When would he ever get to experience an evening this quiet again? Wade’s chatter was continuously making his head hurt and he sincerely hoped that he would grow partial to it with time. Or else he might actually cut off his own ears in an attempt to stop this man’s mindless talk.

Was killing someone because they talked too much a valid reason?

The microwave in the kitchen let out a few “beep” noises. There were still some leftovers from yesterday. Greasy pasta seemed to be his main source of “nutrition” these days. If you could even call it that.

Even though Wade was graciously offering him a place to stay, Logan didn’t want to overstay his welcome. He’d have to find his own apartment in due time. But he was still adapting to this world.

Wade had tried multiple times to make him go to a bar with the intention of actually talking to someone. Find a friend or find a woman.

But why would he do that? He had lost everything already. Helping Wade out with jobs for the TVA was one thing, but he didn’t want to socialise and meet other people. Back in his universe, it had brought him nothing but pain. He wasn’t going to risk someone else’s life again. Wade couldn’t die and Logan kept a friendly distance to all his friends even though they had been nothing but welcoming to him.

The only person he would have cared about was you. Logan didn’t know if you even existed in this timeline, in this universe. But he knew the end of it all, so he would not come looking for you. Maybe if you had never met him, a few horrible things could have been prevented.

Once he had sat down on the couch, plate in hand and putting on a TV show that he wasn’t going to pay any attention to, he tried to relax. Booze was the only option for him to feel calm. When all his senses were drowned out by the alcohol, he could allow himself not to think about you and the mistakes he has made.

Wade insisted that he was a hero – a good man. He had saved people, he had saved this timeline, but the weight of his mistakes was only decreased and never really gone.

Logan was a broken man. Nothing could fix him.

His memories were weighing him down. Even now, in the quiet of his apartment, he felt like they were torturing him.

There was one memory in particular that wouldn’t leave his mind. Losing his friends and his family had been one thing, but losing you had felt like the final blow. A death blow.

Game over.

His desperation always brought him here eventually. The sound of the TV being drowned out by his thoughts as he forced himself to focus on the good things. The happy memories with you, before all of it had been taken from him.

He placed his plate down, rubbing over his temples. The thoughts of you wouldn’t leave his mind. No matter how much he tried, he couldn’t shake the feeling. It was rushing through his entire body, encircling him and pulling at his nerves.

Your smell would always linger in his memories. Your voice would always sound through his head in his dreams and even now, he could remember it as clear as day. Logan was getting older, his memory got worse, but you would always linger in his mind. Sometimes, he managed to push the memories away, but you’d always find a way back. He didn’t want to forget you. He just wanted the pain to stop.

Logan missed your late-night conversations together. He missed spotting the crinkles around your eyes whenever you laughed, holding your stomach and making him feel like the funniest person on earth.

But now? The Wolverine wasn’t fun. He wasn’t a “fun” guy. He had been drained of it when you left him.

He had buried his happiness with you.

Yet you wouldn’t leave his mind. Sometimes, on days like today, he allowed himself to think about you. Let the good memories flood his mind. Hold onto the relief they brought him, before it would turn into pain again.

Logan closed his eyes as he laid back on the couch. His breathing calmed down when he tried to hold onto the glimmer of hope as he dove back into the memories of you. It was addictive and soon, he found himself engulfed in the feeling of you.

The hint of a smile appeared on his lips as he pictured your face in the sun. Your pretty lipstick almost begging for him to ruin it.

He remembered running his thumb over your lips, smearing its colour a little, before he leaned in for a kiss. You always tasted so sweet on his tongue, the taste often lingering even after you left. Logan was a tough man, not easily shaken, appearing strong on the outside, but whenever your hands found their way into his hair, his heart started skipping beats. Low groans drowned in your mouth and he revelled in the feeling of your body pressing against his.

Even now, when all he had were the memories of you, it was all he needed to feel intimacy.

Logan laid down on the couch, allowing his thoughts to drift away.

For a moment, it felt like he was back in that hotel room.

The numbers 505 written on the door. Moonlight shining in through the windows as he spotted you spread out on the bed. Hands settled between your thighs and that teasing smirk of yours. It would always drive him crazy.

And it still did now, as his hands undid his belt buckle, his mind ready to let go of reality for a moment. He was ready to let the good memories of you in, reminisce about the highs you’ve shared with each other.

Logan still remembered the feeling of your body against his own. Breasts pressed against his chest, hot skin against hot skin, your pants getting faster as he brought you both closer to your release. So many nights spent in pleasure with each other’s bodies, but the night in that hotel room stood out to him.

His body was exhausted from his last mission. But Logan would never be too exhausted to return to you. As soon as Scott gave him the all-clear, he was quick to step onto the first plane he could get. Go back to New York, back to that hotel you had agreed to meet in.

It was always a back and forth with you two. Never putting a label on things, but being drawn to each other all the time. Logan had tried to resist you in the beginning, but it had been to no avail. Your smile, your lips… it was all so very tempting and now he had lost himself in you.

The walls of the hotel were dark, only a few dim lights illuminating the space above his head. Logan could feel his heart beating faster. You always brought him to his knees, but he would never admit it.

Not to anyone, not to you.

The numbers 505 were written on the door in big, golden letters. His hands instinctively smoothed down his lumberjack shirt, taking a deep breath. It felt like his body was craving yours, in more ways than one.

Logan knocked on the door, waiting for you to allow him inside.

“It’s open.”

Your voice sent a shiver down his spine.

When he entered the room, his eyes immediately searched for you. And there you were. Spread out on the bed, wearing nothing but a shirt that looked way too big on you. Your hands laid between your thighs, your skin illuminated by the moonlight shining through the large windows.

“I’ve missed you.”

Logan closed the door behind himself, smiling at your words. He had missed you too.

“I know,” he answered, turning the lock before he stepped further into the room.

His senses soon became filled with you. He drowned out the rest of the room, the rest of the lights outside. All the business of his life and the world around him seemed to vanish when you were close. Close enough to touch, close enough so he could drown himself in you.

The smell of your perfume. The faint smile on your lips. His eagerness to touch you.

Logan had spent so many nights between your thighs already. He loved to watch you squirm as he held you down with his arms hooked underneath your knees, lips attached to your sensitive bud. He would never get enough of your taste. He would never get enough of your moans filling the room. Soon, he would be able to feel your soft skin underneath his fingertips again.

But he wasn’t going to rush it. Not today. Even though his body wanted to feel yours intertwined with himself.

You sat up on the bed, leaning against the headboard and stretching out your legs. Your shirt moved up, revealing the lace panties underneath. Logan’s gaze caught them almost instantly, eyes roaming your body as if he was already planning where to touch you first.

“I ordered something to drink for us.” You pointed over to the small table by the window. Logan loved whiskey, so you made sure to order some. For yourself, you had chosen a simple cocktail.

“Very considerate,” he grinned. Logan filled his glass with a few ice cubes and whiskey, taking a strong sip before he placed the glass back down. The liquid burned in his throat, but he would always enjoy the thrill it gave him. Drinking was just the easy way to try and avoid dealing with what was going on in his head.

“How was the mission?” You asked him. You were no stranger to the feeling of staying up all night, worried that something might happen to Logan. His regenerative abilities lifted your worries a little, but there were still so many bad things that could happen if he wasn’t being careful enough. It was still fascinating to see wounds close up so quickly on the man’s skin. Also, hickeys never lasted. They healed up within seconds, vanishing into nothingness.

But it wouldn’t stop Logan from leaving them on your soft skin.

His shoulders slumped for a moment, before he let himself drop into the soft armchair. Your question seemed to have motivated him to drink just a little more, so he reached for his glass again, downing the remaining liquid in one go. “It went well. No major fuck-ups. I’m just glad to be back.”

“Back with you” he wanted to add, but those words never left his thoughts.

“I’m glad you made it back. Without any major injuries.” Even though that wasn’t really possible…

Logan laughed softly, nodding a little. “Of course. I always try to come back in one piece. Wouldn’t want to miss out on that sight.” He tipped the glass in your direction, before placing it back down on the small table. His eyes raked over your body once more, his cock getting hard in his jeans.

He needed you. There was no denying that anymore.

Logan pushed himself out of his seat, slowly walking over to the bed. Your excitement grew by the second and you couldn’t hide the smile forming on your lips. Your dreams had been filled with the man ever since he had left. His touch would always linger on your skin and the memories of him, pressed up against you, whispering lewd words into your ear…

He sat down at the end of the kingsized bed, beckoning you closer with a small movement of his hands. You followed suit, sitting down next to him and before you could open your mouth again, his lips were on yours.

Hungry. Passionate.

Maybe even desperate.

His beard scraped against your cheeks, his arm sneaking around your back and pulling you straight into his lap. You could feel his arousal in his pants and you didn’t hesitate to roll your hips against his own.

A low groan got lost between your kisses and Logan’s hold around you tightened. Your hands explored his hard chest, all toned muscle, wandering further down until you reached his belt. It wasn’t hard to open it while you were still kissing him, the gesture so familiar by now.

You had waited far too long to chase your pleasure again with Logan. And you wanted him to know how much you had missed him. How he had been the only one on your mind.

“We need to get you out of that nightgown,” Logan mumbled. His voice had grown rougher – deeper.

His calloused fingers slipped under your silk clothing, brushing over your soft thighs before he lifted the nightgown over your head. His eyes lingered on your breasts, his erection twitching underneath you. Another buck of your hips and you had Logan groaning once more.

“Couldn’t stop thinking about you while you were gone,” you mumbled into his ear as Logan started to kiss your neck. His beard scratched against your skin, sending shivers down your spine, while he took his sweet time littering your neck and then your jaw with sloppy kisses. His lips felt good on you. Wherever they might be.

Your hands curled into his shirt, pressing your naked chest against his clothed one.

“Is that so?” He asked in return and while you couldn’t see his smirk, you could clearly hear it in his voice.

Your teeth caught onto his earlobe and a hiss slipped through Logan’s teeth. His right hand got a hold of your hair, pulling you back, so you’d look into his eyes again.

“Touched myself when I was thinking ‘bout you,” you smiled.

The thought alone seemed to spur Logan on even more. A soft groan, followed by a smirk as he pulled your head back by your hair. He was gentle with it, but still determined. His eyes searched for yours, mischief sparkling inside them.

His beard brushed over your exposed breasts, leaving a shiver in its wake. Goosebumps spread over your skin as Logan wrapped his lips around your delicate nipple. His tongue swirled around it, still holding you by your hair, neck tilted back, so he could just admire the view in front of him.

“Got the sweetest body I’ve ever fucking seen,” he grumbled, giving your right nipple a little pinch. He could spend an entire evening just taking in every inch of you. He needed to memorise every part of your body.

Tension started to build in your abdomen and you wanted to clench your thighs together, desperate to get some kind of relief as Logan played with your body – determined to make you sing in his arms.

In one swift motion, he had you on the bed again, head in the thick pillows as he slid between your legs. His calloused fingertips brushed over your thighs, before he slipped them underneath the sides of your panties, pulling them down your legs and exposing your core to him.

The sight in front of you was sinful. Logan had opened a few buttons of his shirt, hairy chest peeking out. You couldn’t wait to brush your hands over his chest again and feel his hard muscles under your palms. His hair was tousled from your kissing, his cheeks and lips a slight pink colour and the mischievous smirk on his face seemed to complete the picture. Your hands fisted the sheets when his tongue brushed over your sensitive nub.

Logan was skilled with his tongue and he loved to show it to you. His arms hooked under your knees, holding tightly onto your thighs as he kept you spread out for him. Your hips bucked up against his mouth, so he pressed your hips back down again with one hand. “Stop squirming, bub. I will give you what you want.”

You could trust him with that. He licked through your folds again, savouring the taste before he continued flicking his tongue against your clit. Your back arched, hips trying to squirm, but he kept you firmly in place. Logan was eating you out like a man starved, relentless and desperate. His hips sometimes bucked forward, pressing his cock against the mattress for some sort of temporary relief.

He wanted to be inside you. But not without making you shiver for him first. His fingers dug into the plum flesh of your thigh, probably leaving a bruise or two. Your moans echoed through the room, hands clawing at the sheets as you felt your orgasm approaching.

“M’close,” you announced, voice audibly trembling.

“Let go, sweetheart. I’ve got you.” His deep voice seemed to rumble through your middle, your hips bucking up further when Logan loosened his hold on you. His tongue continued to flick against your clit relentlessly, his middle finger slipping between your folds and curling just right.

Your high came over you in waves, followed by whines and moans and chants of Logan’s name. It sounded like music in his ears. He wanted to hear more of this as the night would go on.

And he would.

His fingers continued to press against the spongy spot inside you for a few more seconds, letting you ride out your high. When your breathing calmed and your head dropped back into the pillows, Logan pulled out his fingers from between your folds.

“Look at me.” His voice was demanding and you didn’t hesitate to direct your gaze back at the man between your legs. His eyes stared into yours as he ran his tongue along his finger, cleaning your wetness off them. A low groan escaped Logan’s lips at the same time, his eyes filling with desire.

He had waited long enough to feel you around him again. He’d enjoy every second of what was about to come.

Logan did quick work of his clothes. Shrugging off his shirt, the rest of his clothes soon joined the pile on the floor. For you, it was a delight to just watch. The muscles in his arms flexed with every one of his movements. The scratches from the last time you had slept together were nowhere to be seen. What you could see however, was the fine line of hair travelling down from his belly button and ending in his underwear.

Your legs still felt shaky from your previous orgasm, but you felt the need to press them together in anticipation. Having Logan’s tongue between your folds was just one part of the pleasure he could give you.

Being apart from him always made you crave him even more. His touch, the taste of his lips, the feeling of his body weight on top of you…

Logan moved to hover over you, hands firmly planted on either side of your head as he looked down at you. His hair was a dishevelled mess, but it made you all the more desperate to run your fingers through it. And you did, even if it was just to pull him down further, lips meeting his in a passionate kiss.

You could feel his left hand moving up your thigh, gently urging you to spread your thighs further, so he could settle between them. His naked body was always warmer than yours and you felt enveloped in his scent. You could feel his cock resting heavy between your thighs, his hips moving ever so slightly to create a little friction.

“Lo, please…” you whimpered against his lips. Of course, he could only smile at your words. He was always a tease, but he couldn’t ignore his own desires. His body had been burning with longing and now you were right where he wanted you.

“Don’t have to ask twice, sweetheart,” he mumbled against your neck, placing a few soft kisses there before he sat up on his knees and pulled you closer to his middle. His hands gently travelled up from your ankles to your thighs, before he took a short moment to admire your glistening folds. “So desperate just for me,” he groaned, before he aligned his cock with your middle.

Logan wanted to feel your walls clench around him again. The sweetest feeling in the world for him.

His cock slowly parted your folds, filling you up inch by inch. A low groan escaped his throat and you held tightly onto his strong arms.

You loved to have Logan fill you – the satisfying sensation of having your body adjust to him and then feel so full.

His hands moved to your thighs, putting your legs over his shoulders as he started to thrust slowly into you.

“I’ve missed your pussy so much,” he groaned, looking down at the sight in front of him.

Your eyes were wide, arousal clearly written onto your face and your tits were right there for him to see. With every shallow thrust, they moved just a little, nipples perking up and tempting Logan to lean down and capture them with his lips again.

“More,” you urged him on, hands starting to claw at the sheets beneath you. Logan was more than happy to comply, so his pace picked up. His cock hit your sensitive spot in just the right way, sending shivers through your body with each thrust. You could feel him deep inside you, just right against your cervix.

Each movement of his hips brought you closer to release and Logan’s thrusts grew harder and more impatient. He lifted you off the mattress ever so slightly to reach deeper, making your legs squirm on his shoulders.

“Feelin’ so good, baby.” His eyes darkened with lust and he moved one hand away from your hips to palm your left breast instead. Logan’s thumb expertly brushed over your nipple as well, causing your pussy to spasm around him.

Your walls tightened around his cock, eliciting a groan from him once more as he felt you squeeze him so perfectly. Logan could usually do this for hours, but he hadn��t seen you in so long and your body knew exactly how to work him up just right.

“I'm so close, Lo,” you warned him, nails scratching along his arms as you felt the knot in your stomach tighten. Your legs were shaking on his shoulders, announcing your incoming orgasm to him.

His thrusts grew a little faster and he angled your legs closer to your body, hitting your sensitive spot over and over again in that position. Beads of sweat started to build on his forehead as he grew closer to his climax. Logan’s hand moved from your breast to your throat, lightly pressing down on it and sending another wave of pleasure through your entire body.

With a corse voice, he leaned down to you, never stopping the movements of his hips. “I want you to come around me. I wanna feel your pussy milking me,” he groaned.

His words finally sent you over the edge. Your orgasm came over you in waves and had you shaking underneath Logan. The spasms of your walls around him sent him over the edge too and you felt his warm cum filling you up bit by bit. His hands clawed at your hips, not enough to bruise you, but holding on quite strongly.

“Shit,” he groaned, moving your legs to rest on his sides before he leaned down to capture your lips in a soft, but short kiss. His hand moved up to brush some hair out of your face, gaze searching for yours as he relished in the feeling of having you still wrapped around him like this.

“Don’t stay away for this long again, Logan.”

Your words sounded like a plea and he was happy to oblige.

He would not leave you out of his sight for long again.

Logan put an arm over his forehead as the memories washed away again. His skin was covered in sweat and he felt the tears well up in his eyes. All of this always made him emotional again.

He couldn’t bring you back anymore, but he could keep your memories safe with him. Sometimes, it felt good to indulge them, other times it just hurt. This time, it had felt like a relief, but the pain was already waiting to wash over him again.

Cleaning himself up, he eventually got up from the couch and went for a shower. He needed to feel the hot water on his skin, a small distraction from his thoughts. As always, he turned it up high enough to almost burn him. But it rinsed him clean of his worries for a moment.

Of his longing for you.

He should have told you how he actually felt about you. That it was more than just sex, more than a physical attraction…

After his shower, Logan just wanted to curl up on the couch again and fall asleep there. Let the next day come and live it as good as he could, because what other choice did he have?

The doorbell prevented him from heading to the couch immediately. Instead, he quickly put on some short pants and a shirt, before he headed to the apartment door to find out who would bother him at this time.

His heart stopped for a second when he swung the door open and the person on the other side came into view.

It was you.

taglist: @nonamevenus

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daysofyellowroses · 9 months ago

Text

yellow rose

david von erich x afab!reader | 6.2k | 18+ minors dni | tw: language, smoking, mild smut | a reflection on your journey to the altar

so this is a complete and utter work of fiction, based on the very brilliant movie the iron claw. i knew as soon as i watched it i would have stories but i was a little surprised david came to me first. obviously harris dickinson is beautiful but i am down so bad for jaw. i got some kerry ideas too, and i always have a hundred different bear ideas on the go too so more to come | also just to note that because this is totally fictitious, i am choosing to ignore real life events for the most part and live in fanfic delusion. enjoy 🌼

It all seemed to happen in a flash.

In theory, you should have been used to it. Ready for it.

One minute you were heading to a local sports center on a work assignment, then in what felt like the blink of an eye, you were walking up the aisle to marry the subject of one of those photos.

But, to get to how exactly you ended up walking down that aisle, you need to go back to how it all started.

Which, like with most things when it came to you,started with a picture.

📷

From an early age, you loved photography. Capturing a moment in time, being able to look at it any time and relive the moment was always a thrill. Your childhood home was full of framed photos and photo albums, a collection of memories surrounding you.

When you turned 13, your parents gave you your own camera. It wasn't anything too technical or fancy, but it was immediately your most treasured possession. You took photos of everything, family occasions, your friends hanging out, nature, snapshots of Dallas.

As you grew older you threw yourself into studying everything about photography, worked an extremely tedious part time job to save up for a real camera, dedicated yourself to honing your skills. It wasn't difficult, your friends and family kept you busy with birthday parties, weddings, christenings, anything worth celebrating and you were there to capture the moments.

When you were in your senior year of high school, you discovered a fondness for a particular subject of your photos. You had been sitting in the bleachers after school one day with your friends, all you of chatting and laughing about something when you'd looked onto the football field and spotted two of the players talking about something animatedly, one of them slapping the other on the back as they laughed.

You had grabbed your camera, snapping a photo and rolled your eyes playfully as your friends teased you. Sure, the players were cute, but that wasn't why you took their photo. When the shots had developed, you were thrilled that your instinct had been correct. The red of the players jerseys popped, the gold star on their helmets gleaming in the sun. They looked graceful, despite their large frames, natural and charming.

From that photo, you began to base more of your photos on sport. It wasn't an area you had expected to become interested in, but it inspired your photography. Cheerleaders in perfectly formed pyramids, track stars crossing the line, football players clutching the ball to their chest as they threw themselves across the post.

After graduation, you applied for a journalism course, figuring it didn't hurt to have a backup plan and maybe it would get you a gig as a photographer for a newspaper or magazine.

Leaving home was tough, especially when a big going away party was thrown for you, your friends and family coming together to celebrate your accomplishments. When the time came to leave you were sure you'd never cried so much, trying to hype yourself up for the adventure ahead.

It was a lot of fun, being at college, as it turned out. Making new friends, learning new things, having new experiences. By the time it was over it felt like you could back and do it all again in a heartbeat.

You decided to move back to Dallas after you graduated. A job opportunity at a big paper came up, and your friend Pam had found an apartment that came with a spare room so it seemed like the right move.

It was about two weeks later you were tasked with going down to the Sportatorium on a Saturday night to document the latest wrestling match. Every time you went to a sporting event for work, you were accompanied by the senior sports writer, Duke. He was older than your father, far too old for his cheap toupee to be even the slightest bit believable. He wore cheap polyester suits, too much cologne and had a fondness for calling you ‘missy’ and placing his hand a little too low on your back.

You had psyched yourself up to ask Pam to come along, preparing a whole speech in your head. If she was with you then you could avoid Duke like the plague, couldn't possibly leave your guest alone.

Turned out Pam didn't take much convincing at all, in fact she practically jumped at the chance to come along. You tucked her excitement away in your mind, curious to see if the source would reveal itself at the match.

When the day came, you were excited to get some shots of a new sport. From what you'd seen on TV, the Sportatorium was bright and colorful, the wrestlers just as much so. You packed up your camera before getting changed into some jeans and a t-shirt.

Pam had taken one look at you and marched you back into your room, your protests of “But I'm working!” falling on deaf ears.

A compromise was reached. Your t-shirt stayed but a denim mini skirt replaced your jeans and brown cowboy boots replaced your beat up sneakers. You felt a little ridiculous, your job had you in all kinds of angles and positions to get the best shots, the last thing you wanted was to be unable to get a good picture because you'd end up flashing tomorrow's laundry to thousands of strangers.

When you arrived at the Sportatorium, the sun was dipping below the horizon and what seemed like hundreds of cars and trucks were pulling up. People were grabbing beers out of coolers, blasting music from boomboxes, grilling up hotdogs on portable barbecues. You got a couple of shots before Pam was hustling you inside to get your seats. Well, her seat. You told her you'd meet her outside after the match, not that she seemed to be paying attention, her eyes focused on the empty ring.

You made your way down to the ring, keeping an eye out for Duke and ready to sprint back to Pam if needed. To your relief, Duke wasn't in attendance. The junior sports reporter, Brian, had been sent in his place. The two of you weren't exactly close friends but he was much more professional. You got some shots of the crowd, feeling excited to see a match live. The atmosphere in the stadium was electric, like something incredible was about to happen.

When the announcement came for the first tag team, you got some shots of them walking through the tunnel and into the ring, holding their arms in the air and greeting the crowd. Brian walked around the ring slowly, scribbling into a notepad, cigarette perched behind his ear.

Then they announced the next tag team, and you moved to the opposite tunnel to get shots of them. You took a breath as you snapped a shot of the taller one, his wavy blonde hair peeking out from under his back cowboy hat. He was wearing a leather jacket that he promptly tore off before he got into the ring, his back muscles rippling.

You cleared your throat, taking more photos and trying to concentrate on what you were there for.

The bell rang, and once the match started you had no shortage of great photo opportunities. The men in the ring moved with perfect proficiency and style, playing up to the crowd and putting on a spectacular show. You found yourself more and more drawn to the tall blonde, David Von Erich, you discovered.

He was so graceful yet could have these huge men slammed onto their backs, his arms bulging and a cocky grin on his face. Once or twice you could have sworn he caught your eye and winked at you but you were sure it was your imagination.

The Von Erichs won the match, you snapped a photo of the referee holding up the brother's hands as the crowd roared. Brian checked back in with you, telling you he was going to grab some quotes before heading off. You bid him farewell before going to find Pam, heading outside with the rest of the crowd.

“Hey, over here!”

You quickly spotted Pam, smiling as you waved back at her, weaving your way through the crowd to join her.

“Hey,” You smiled, laughing softly as Pam grabbed your arm, a wide grin on her face. “Are you al-”

“Come on,” Pam immediately started tugging you in the opposite direction. “let me show you something,”

You just about managed to maintain your balance and hold onto your camera as you dodged through the dispersing crowd, wondering what exactly Pam was doing.

Before long you had an answer, as you and Pam joined a large group of women hanging around the back door of the Sportatorium. Her keenness to come to the match made much more sense when Kevin Von Erich walked out the door, towel around his shoulders and bag slung over his shoulder. You had never known Pam to look at any man the way she was looking at Kevin.

“What are you waiting for?” You asked, giving Pam a gentle nudge. “Get on over there, girl.”

“I can't, there's too many girls round him,” Pam sighed. “I am not desperate. I'll wait for my time.”

“Saving the best for last huh?” You grinned, watching Pam roll her eyes playfully. “I don't think he's gonna be able to take his eyes off you.”

“You think?” Pam asked, glancing over to you. She looked genuinely concerned and you gave her a reassuring smile.

“I know.”

A little while later, when the crowd had dispersed and Kevin was signing the last couple of autographs, you gave Pam a gentle nudge, smiling as she quickly fixed her hair.

“Good luck,” You grinned, gently squeezing her arm. “Not that you need it.”

You gave her some space, walking over to a trash can before fishing a pack of cigarettes from your purse. You lit one up, glancing over to Pam and smiling as you spotted Kevin heading in her direction. Closing your eyes as you looked away, you took a long drag on your cigarette and felt yourself relax.

“You know it's a bad habit to smoke those things.”

You opened your eyes, finding a familiar face standing close to you. He looked better in person than he did in the ring, if that was possible.

“Well I'm sure you know that it is very rude to keep your hat on in the presence of a lady,” You raised a brow, flicking your ash into the trash can. “I could be deeply insulted.”

“I apologize,” David grinned, taking off his hat and giving you a slight bow as he did. He introduced himself properly, as did you, his hand moving over his heart as he tilted his head. “You know I was just joking, there's worse habits to have than smoking.”

You nodded, smiling a little. “Like creeping up on strangers?”

He laughed and you felt a flutter in your stomach. You willed it away, not wanting to be another simpering fan.

“You want one?” You asked, holding out the box of cigarettes. David looked like he was considering saying yes before he shook his head.

“No, thank you. I shouldn't.”

“Fair enough,” You nodded, putting the box back in your purse. “It really is a bad habit. I'm trying to quit but I got some time to kill so..”

“Oh yeah?” David raised a brow, glancing around the quiet car park before looking back at you. “What you waiting for?”

“My friend,” You gestured in the direction of Pam, who was deep in conversation with Kevin. “she's a big fan.”

“So I see,” David grinned, looking over to his brother and Pam before focusing his attention back on you. “and uh..what about you? Are you a big fan?”

You thought about it/made him wait for a moment as you took a drag on your cigarette and raised a brow.

“I'm just here for work.”

“Really?” David looked a little surprised, lightly rubbing his jaw. “What kinda work do you do?”

You held up your camera with a smile before flicking your cigarette in the trash can. “I’m a photographer,” You explained. “for a newspaper.”

“Oh right,” David smiled, folding his arms. “I'll have to buy that, see if you got any good ones of me. Which paper is it?”

“It's the uh..huh,” You grinned as you glanced over to Pam, watching her laugh as Kevin said something to her. “Excuse me for one second.”

You turned slightly, holding your camera up and focusing it on Pam and Kevin. You felt very aware of David's presence behind you, trying to hold your hands steady as you snapped a picture.

“I have a feeling I may need that one day,” You smiled, settling your camera strap back over your shoulder and turning to David. “They're cute together, don't you think?”

“Yeah, I guess so,” David nodded, his gaze staying on you. “She ain't the cutest one here though.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn't fight the smile on your face and multiple flutters in your stomach.

“Oh shut up, that's such a line.”

“I'm deadly serious,” David grinned, holding his hat over his heart. “I promise.”

You were about to say something when Pam appeared, linking her arm with yours and giggling as she went to drag you away.

“Hang on one second,” David called, making you look over your shoulder with a smile.

“You never told me the name of your paper!”

“It's in Dallas,” You called back, walking forward with Pam, the two of you giggling. “If you find it, call me!”

📷

A couple of days later you were in the newspaper office, going over some photos for an upcoming article when one of the secretaries knocked on the door and asked for you.

“Call for you,” She explained, gesturing to the phone as you went to her desk. “They didn't give a name, just asked for you.”

“Okay, thanks Margaret,” You smiled, feeling a slight knot in your stomach. It was extremely rare someone called you at work, and you tried not to think the worst.

Going to the phone, you picked it up and took a deep breath before holding it to your ear.

“Hello?”

“Hello yourself.”

You let out a soft sigh of relief as you realized who was on the other end of the line, a small smile on your face.

“How many papers did you have to call before you found me?”

“That's not important.”

You rolled your eyes with a grin.

“More than two?”

“..five.”

“Oh wow,” You grinned, turning more towards the wall. “That's perseverance right there. I'm flattered.”

“Well so am I,” David replied. “I saw those pictures you took. They were great, I wanted to thank you for catching me at such a flattering angle.”

“You're welcome,” You smiled, glancing over your shoulder before looking back and lowering your voice slightly. “That the only reason you called six newspapers? Angles?”

“Not quite,” You could hear a cheeky tone in his voice, your fingers holding the phone cord. “I was hoping you'd come see me again. You don't have to take pictures this time, if you don't want.”

“As it happens I am coming,” You raised a brow with a smile. “Your brother beat you to the invite. He invited Pam, who invited me. So I'll be there.”

“Well damn,” David laughed softly. “I guess I'll just have to come right out with it then..ask you on a real date.”

“Oh?” You grinned, feeling like a teenager as your cheeks grew warm. “How about we make it interesting?”

“I'm all ears.”

You took a breath, trying to calm your heartbeat. You were aware of Margaret behind you, knowing she'd be listening to every word.

“Alright, if you win..I accept. If you don't, no deal.”

“Hm, sounds fair,” David replied. “I guess I'll have to try a little harder this week. I'll let you get back to work, alright?”

“Alright,” You nodded, trying not too smile too widely. “I'll see you Saturday. Bye.”

You hung up the phone, turning around to Margaret with a polite smile.

“Thank you, I'll be in the office.”

Once you closed the door and found yourself alone, you let out a laugh, shaking your head and wondering what you'd let yourself in for.

📷

Saturday came around quickly, and most of the day was given over to preparing. At first you were just helping Pam, heading into store after store to find the perfect outfit. Then you started looking for yourself, realizing that you wanted to put in just a little more effort since you were going to watch, not work.

As the evening drew closer, the radio was on full blast in the apartment as you and Pam cracked open a bottle of wine and started the beauty process. You couldn't shake the slight nerves that were settled in your stomach, but they were joined by an excitement.

“Oh,” Pam turned from the bathroom mirror to look at you. You were sitting on the edge of the bathtub, carefully painting your toenails. “Did he ever get in touch? David? I completely forgot to ask.”

“Yeah, he found me,” You grinned, laughing as Pam gasped. “Asked me to come along tonight. I told him I was already coming.”

“And?” Pam asked, waving her hand at you. “What else? Did he ask you out?”

“I told him he can take me out if he wins,” You smiled, holding the bottle of nail polish up in the air with a laugh as Pam rushed over to hug you.

“This is so exciting! We're gonna be like sisters!”

📷

When you arrived at the Sportatorium, it seemed to be even busier than it had been the previous week. You stepped out of your truck, smoothing out your outfit. It was only a black off the shoulder top and some denim jeans but you hoped it still looked good.

You linked your arm with Pam's as the two of you headed inside the bustling arena, your heart beating faster as you took your seats. As it turned out, watching the match was totally different to photographing it. You couldn't move about, couldn't pick one thing to focus on. It was all happening, bright and loud and thrilling. You found yourself cheering and whistling with the crowd, you and Pam both jumping up and screaming when the Von Erichs emerged victorious.

When it was all over and you were enjoying the fresh air, you couldn't help but find it adorable when Kevin couldn't keep his eyes off Pam while he signed autographs. Once he was free you gave him and Pam some space, almost immediately bumping into David.

“Hey winner,” You smiled, resting your hands in your back pockets. “Nice angles in there.”

“I hope someone was there to capture them,” David grinned, taking his hat off. “Did you have a good time?”

“Yeah,” You nodded, watching David for a moment, smiling as you realized he almost seemed a little nervous. “I really enjoyed it..though I'm a little curious about something.”

“What might that be?” David asked, moving his hat from one hand to the other.

“Well,” You smiled, stepping closer and looking up at him. “Are you going to honor our agreement?”

📷

It was only when you were putting on your coat to leave the apartment when it dawned on that you hadn't actually been on a first date for..a while. There were some relationships in high school, a couple in college along with some dates and flings but the last had been before you graduated.

You tried not to think about it too much, you were just going for dinner and seeing a movie. Worst case scenario, you and David didn't end up hitting it off and the world would go on as it always did. But part of you was hopeful that something would come from the date, that it would develop into something really great.

Grabbing your purse, you left the apartment and went downstairs to hail a cab, excitement starting to outweigh the nerves.

📷

“No way,” You laughed, your eyes going wide as you placed your hand over your chest. “You did not do that.”

“Yes I did,” David nodded, a serious look on his face before he laughed. “I was so sick afterwards. Never got found out though. Mom just went and got Kerry and Mike a new egg each. I couldn't eat chocolate for like three months.”

“I'm not surprised,” You laughed, picking up your drink. “You can't say you didn't deserve it.”

David laughed, nodding as he picked up his own drink.

“I certainly did deserve it. Moment of weakness I guess.”

You took a sip of your drink before setting the glass down and glancing around the restaurant. It was a steakhouse, but it felt like a nice one. Elegant lighting, candles on the tables, classy music playing. No sawdust or butcher paper to be found.

“So do you think your brothers ever found out?” You asked, sitting up a little and resting your hands in your lap. “Or did you tell them?”

“No to both I'm afraid,” David sighed softly, lightly tapping his glass as he set it down. “Though I think Kev knew it was me..” He smiled to himself as he looked down. “Never said anything if he did know, though.”

“Seems like you two are close,” You smiled, your heart picking up a beat as David looked back at you with a warm smile.

“We are,” He nodded. “We all are. I can't imagine life without them, they're amazing.”

You felt your heart swell, trying not to get too swept up in your emotions.

“That's so wonderful,” You smiled. “It's amazing that you're all so close.”

“Yeah,” David grinned, sitting up a little. “I just feel so lucky every day, like..” He stopped himself, lightly rubbing his neck.

“You know what, I feel like all I've done is talk about myself, my brothers, I don't want you to think I'm self absorbed or nothing, I promise I ain't like that.”

You shook your head, reaching your hand across the table and grinning when David held it with his own.

“I know you're not,” You insisted. “You're wonderful. Now tell me more about your family, I want the good stories.”

You ended up missing the movie, but neither of you cared. You talked until the restaurant was closing, David's jacket around your shoulders as you walked out into the night air. He gave you a ride home and kissed your cheek by your door like a gentleman.

“I had a great time,” You smiled, carefully taking off David's jacket and giving it back to him. You could tell he wanted to tell you to keep it, and you knew why he couldn't.

“Maybe you should win another match, take me out again.”

“It's a deal.”

📷

Going to matches became a weekly event. You and Pam would cheer and cling to each other, laughing at how silly you were being. You took pictures for yourself, wanting to remember every moment. Afterwards you would meet David and Kevin, go for burgers and debrief on the match.

It wasn't always easy for David to visit you, so you called each other when you could, spending an hour or two talking about anything and everything. You drove down to Denton a couple of times, meeting him for something to eat or just for a drive.

He was always a perfect gentleman, opening doors for you and holding your hand, never pressing for anything more even though you suspected he was just as keen as you were to take things further.

You decided to nudge things in the right direction one night when you had gone down to visit him. Pam had come with you, and David and Kevin had taken you to the lake with their brother Mike, who you instantly adored.

The afternoon was perfect, gorgeous hot weather and ice cold beers, floating along in the water and feeling like nothing else could possibly matter but being in that moment.

You were sitting on the edge of the dock while the others drifted along on the huge rubber float, snapping a couple of shots of them before setting the camera aside. David appeared next to you, sitting down and resting his hand on your back. You leaned into the touch, his arm moving around your shoulders.

“I love this,” You smiled softly, closing your eyes and letting out a breath. “If every day was like this..what a world.”

“It's perfect,” David murmured softly. “I can't think of anything better.”

“Hm, I reckon I can,” You smiled, opening your eyes and looking up at him. His eyes were already on you and you grinned as he took a breath and leaned in, his lips feeling like heaven against yours.

You could hear the cheers and whistles, smiling into the kiss and feeling satisfied beyond belief.

📷

“You ready for this?”

“Absolutely not. You?”

“Absolutely not.”

You flicked on the indicator and headed up the long drive to the Von Erich home, glancing over to Pam in the passenger seat.

“At least we're in this together.”

It was incredibly daunting, the thought of meeting David's parents and his brother Kerry, who had recently come home. He had told you countless times that they would love you, but it didn't ease your nerves.

You were relieved to have Pam with you, that she was in the same boat. Mike met you both at the door, giving you both a hug and chatting away as he led you outside.

It was a flurry of introductions, handshakes and hugs and the most perfect kiss from David that had you instantly relaxing.

By the time everyone sat down for dinner, it felt as though you had known the Von Erichs forever. The food was delicious, the weather was beautiful, the company was amazing. You felt David reach for your hand under the table when his parents talked about how they met, your heart swelling.

When Doris forbade Mike from going to a gig that night, you glanced across the table to Pam smiling as she gave you a slight nod.

📷

“Alright, drive, drive!”.

You put your foot down, laughing as you glanced in the mirror and watched your boyfriend and his brothers gradually haul themselves into your truck. You turned the radio up when you left the driveway, rolling down the windows and cheering as you hit the road.

It didn't matter whose house the party was in, it was big and roomy and most importantly, fun. You had a beer in your hand before you knew it, hitting the makeshift dance floor. The brothers spun you and Pam around, laughter filling the air as you moved to the music, not a care in the world.

When Mike took to the stage with his band, you stood with David behind you, his arms wrapped around you. You all cheered as the song started up, swaying along as you held your hands over David's.

Later in the evening you gently took David's hand and pulled him into a quiet corner, whispering in his ear and enjoying the slightly tipsy smile that crossed his face, a flash of worry passing his eyes.

You led him upstairs, finding an empty bedroom and closing the door.

“We..we don't have to,” David insisted as you slipped off your shoes. “I don't want you to feel pressured.”

“I don't,” You smiled, walking to the end of the bed and unzipping your dress before turning back to David. “But I will think you don't want to if you don't get over here in the next thirty seconds.”

He didn't need to be asked twice.

You laughed as you were picked up bridal style and carried to the top of the bed, letting out a soft moan as David laid you down and gave you a tender kiss.

Despite your suspicions that David was possibly a virgin, you didn't ask when he didn't bring it up. He was a little apprehensive, but once you took the lead he seemed to tap into his ring persona and the confidence in his movements had you struggling not to scream as your nails dug into his back, the sheets, your body crying out for more.

“Oh god,” You moaned, touching David's cheek and looking up to meet his eyes as your legs hooked around his waist. “Baby..’m so close, please..”

You closed your eyes as he pushed deeper into you, his forehead resting against yours.

“Me too,” He murmured, his hand reaching for yours. “Fuck..fuck..I love you.”

Your eyes went wide at the confession, a deep moan spilling from your lips as you felt a wave crash over you, feeling David fill you moments later. You moved your hands to his neck, meeting his eyes and taking a deep breath.

“I'm sorry,” He sighed, looking down. “I shouldn't have-this isn't the time..”

“No,” You insisted, a smile spreading on your face. “It's the perfect time. I love you, too.”

📷

“Mind if I get one of those?”

You turned around, letting out a sigh of relief as you spotted Kerry walking towards you.

“Of course,” You smiled, taking the box of cigarettes from your purse and handing it over. “Thought you were David for a second.”

Kerry laughed as he accepted the box, shaking his head.

“Nah, your secret is safe with me. Just needed one huh?”

“Yeah,” You nodded, flicking away the ash. “I'm so nervous. I don't know why, it's not like I have to walk down the aisle in front of hundreds of people wearing this,” You raised a brow, gesturing to your dress.

As much as you adored Pam, and as thrilled as you were that she was getting married and had asked you to be her maid of honor, you did not exactly love the dress she had chosen. For a start, it was a mix of dusky pink and peach, the skirt was so big you wondered if you fit down the aisle, and the sleeves were almost the size of your head.

“I feel you,” Kerry nodded, looking down at himself as he lit his cigarette. “I think we all feel a little ridiculous. But you know the worst part?”

“Go on,” You smiled, lifting up the puffball that had slipped down your shoulder. “shock me.”

“I gotta do this three more times,” Kerry sighed, lightly prodding the flower attached to his suit. “At least you get to choose your wedding dress. I'm stuck in velvet hell.”

You laughed, shaking your head and taking a drag on your cigarette.

“Oh come on, it ain't so bad. I think I heard Mike say he would never have velvet.”

“Really?” Kerry raised a brow, looking over to you.

“Promise,” You grinned, holding your hand over your heart. “He said he'd have velour.”

“Oh fuck off,” Kerry laughed, shaking his head and holding his hand out. “Gimme a mint and get out of here, I'll velour you.”

“I'd like to see you try,” You laughed, getting a mint from your purse and flicking your cigarette away before walking over to Kerry. “See you inside. Don't destroy that flower.”

📷

“Isn't she beautiful?” You smiled, watching Pam and Kevin sway on the dancefloor, smiles etched on their faces as they moved to the music.

You felt the urge to take a photo, but a professional had been hired for the day. Pam had insisted she wanted you to be in the pictures, not the one behind the camera. You had been a little disappointed, but you gave her the photo you'd taken from when she and Kevin had first met, and her reaction made it all worth it.

“She really is,” Doris nodded, looking over to you and taking your hand with a smile. “And you will be too.”

“Thank you,” You smiled, giving her a kiss on the cheek. “Let me go get us another drink.”

You stood up, making your way over to the bar with a smile. While you and David weren't officially engaged, it was kind of an unspoken truth that when Pam and Kevin had gotten married, David would propose to you next. Kerry wasn’t seeing anyone, and while Mike was dating a girl, they had only been together a few weeks.

So, you knew you were next up.

As you waited for your drinks, you smiled as you felt a familiar presence by your side.

“Have I told you how beautiful you look today?”

“Yes,” You grin, turning to face David and giving him a kiss. “But I don't mind hearing it again.”

As the song ended and a new one started up, more guests took to the floor.

“Should we go for a twirl?” David asked, gently stroking your cheek. “or maybe not quite a twirl, that dress will take out anyone who comes close,” He teased.

“Oh shut up,” You laughed, lightly swatting him. “I'm getting your mom a drink, if I don't take you out first.”

“I'll take it to her,” David smiled, leaning down to give you a soft kiss. “Then you owe me a dance.”

📷

So, here it is.

The big day.

You thought at times it would never come, but it's here.

A lot has happened, of course. Weddings need buildup, after all. The guests can only talk about how beautiful you look and wonder who did the food for so long. You gotta give them something.

So what's new? It's been a minute, a luxuriously long engagement.

The Von Erichs have gone from strength to strength, reaching the top of the wrestling game. You still go see matches, when you can. They're global now, you always feel a rush of pride when you watch them on TV at some crazy hour.

Pam is a world class veterinarian, an incredible mother to the most gorgeous baby, and still the best friend in the world.

Kevin won the WHC belt, is the most devoted husband, father, brother, brother-in-law and son. He and Pam keep saying they're going to buy a ranch in Hawaii for everyone to live in, and you like to think maybe it could be true.

Kerry insists he's your favorite brother-in-law, and you insist that you couldn't possibly choose a favorite but deep down you think he's most likely right. He makes you laugh the most, teases you and makes stupid jokes to cheer you up when you need it. The two of you have sneaky cigarettes and know what the other is thinking when you look at each other.

Mike has just signed a recording contract with his band, and you tell him all the time he better come to you first with concert tickets. He's going to be the next one engaged, he's so loved up and it's adorable.

Then there's David.

The yellow rose who called up six different newspapers just to ask you out, who let you into his life, who loves you unconditionally and makes you so unbelievably happy that you wonder what you ever did without him. You would never have pursued your dreams without him and his family, that's something you know. And let's not forget his proposal, which was the most beautiful moment of your life.

David had taken you on a surprise trip one night, insisting that you were just going for a drive after you'd been out for dinner, but you knew it wasn't true. You found yourself at the lake, David's hand in yours as you walked down to the dock, which..was decorated with candles in jars, rose petals, a bottle of champagne sitting in ice.

Knowing that you were marrying your soulmate, joining a family you loved deeply, it made you feel so safe, so secure. You quit your job, deciding to pursue your real passion. You bought a gallery in Dallas, and displayed your own work along with other local artists, including your soon to be mother in law. It took time, but it's become a success, and you don't care what any of them say, you couldn't have done it without your family.

Plenty for the guests to talk about, right?

You take a deep breath as you step out of the car, Pam fixes your dress and you take a deep breath. Her dress is beautiful, and most importantly, simple.

Before you know it you're walking down the aisle, your heart beating faster as hundreds of faces smile at you, but there's only one you need to see, and when you do it makes everything okay.

You reach the top of the aisle, feeling overwhelmed with love, beaming as you turn to look at your soon to be husband.

“You know it's a bad habit to leave the bride with a veil over her face,” You grinned, watching David gently touch the hem of the silky veil and carefully move it back, a wide smile on his face.

“I do apologize,” He grinned. “Still gonna marry me?”

“Of course,” You smiled. “You look perfect from this angle.”

#the iron claw #the iron claw fic #the iron claw fanfiction #david von erich x reader #david von erich x you #harris dickinson #harris dickinson fanfic #harris dickinson x reader #harris dickinson x you

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lbulldesigns · 8 days ago

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Wild Rune Foreshadowing Jayce, Heimendinger, and Ekko's roles in the coming episodes

I just had this sudden epiphany about the true significance of Jayce, Heimendinger, and Ekko's scene in the Wild Rune at the end of Act I.

The way that the Wild Rune distorts them is basically showing us what they are experiencing individually and foreshadowing their roles in the rest of the season.

Jayce:

We have this, honestly, really cool loop of Jayce which stands out from Heimendinger and Ekko's distortion. For one he's in tack, he isn't splintering apart or anything. Two, he looks at his previous self before facing forward which indicates that he's stuck repeating himself until we get to the end where he looks horrified at the Wild Rune and asks "what have we done" before attacking it with his hammer.

And going by how worn-out Jayce looks in Act II, his dialogue with Viktor, plus him just instantly attacking Viktor on sight. All points towards Jayce having been stuck in a time loop, and episode 6 is him finally breaking out of it.

I think the Wild Rune put him through this particular hell because it wants Jayce to fix his mistakes, but considering Jayce's habit of making decisions without fully thinking ahead (i.e. his deal with Silco, resurrecting Viktor, building the failsafe in a location that he didn't thoroughly vet first and making sure was safe) and then regretting said actions once things go wrong, the time loop could be the Wild Rune's way of forcing Jayce to make his mistakes until he either learns from them or learns to avoid them.

The glitching out we see before he shoots Viktor, going by Riot's way of showcasing mental struggles with individual characters i.e. Jinx seeing scratches and neon sketches when she has a breakdown, him splitting apart into more of himself can be a nod towards him reliving this experience again and again and again. He was prepared to talk at this point, and then he just starts shooting instead.

Heimendinger:

Now, onto Eldricheimer.

I've seen a lot of Biblically Accurate Heimendinger jokes going around, and this is mostly because of how his face splits apart and his eyes multiply.

I don't think the animators put this in just to show how disturbing the Wild Rune is, I think they wanted us to actually think of Eldrich beings when looking at him. For those who aren't well versed or know about H.P. Lovecraft's work, the Eldrich horrors in his stories share the same concept. They're creatures so ancient that looking upon them will drive you insane. They break the laws of our nature and are often hard to describe, much like biblically accurate angels who are described as having many eyes.

The reason why either of these beings are difficult to understand or describe is because they basically shoot knowledge straight into your brain, they show you the answers to the universe, but because our minds can't hold that much information, we go insane and perceive what we are experiencing as a horrific experience.

When Heimendinger is affected, his body is being held still and is facing forward. His arms are held stiffly by his side, as if he's being forced. And then his eyes splinter from his face and multiply (even on the wall behind him), with his many eyes staring outwards in wide eyed in horror.

The Wild Rune is forcing Heimendinger to look. It's forcing a person who has stayed so consistently and ignorantly blind to the point of sheer stubbornness to actually look.

Heimendinger, as we all know, doesn't take accountability for his actions. He is 200 years old, he assisted in the founding of Piltover, he lead the council throughout that time, and has basically allowed Zaun to fall so stupidly and pointlessly into destitution because he wouldn't look at what was happening in front of him. He stayed focused on his pride and joy, Piltover.

I speculate that, if we go by the theme we have so far with time distortion, that Heimendinger is being made to watch everything both past and future. This would drive a normal person insane, but Heimendinger is basically immortal therefore his mind would be able to handle the information overload; you don't live through centuries without being able to compartmentalize hundreds of years of memories.

And going by his League description, Heimendinger is a scientist that vows to understand the knowledge of the universe, both natural and magic. This is how we are going to get the unhinged Heimendinger who build mecha T-Rex's as shown in his splash art.

Ekko:

I thought that this was a pretty cool shot not gonna lie, I 100% believe that Ekko isn't dead, I mean we all understand his game counterparts history with time and there are still scenes with him that we haven't seen yet, so the revalation that his is a-okay is not that ground breaking.

But I really like where the writers and animators are going in regards to him acquiring his time manipulaton abilities for the show. Him creating a time machine because his a genius is good and all, but how much more poetic is it that he learns to master time by being taught by time itself and using both his newly acquired knowledge and his expertise in tinkering and inventing to then make the Z-Drive.

The boy who shattered time, being shattered apart.

And we all understand where his story is gonna go from here, he is going to be able to rewind time to fix things. Perhaps the Wild Rune imparted this knowledge onto him to counteract any mistakes that jayce would make, or to ensure that the best outcome would be achieved for whatever crisis (possible Void invasion) may be coming.

Or maybe it saw his wish to save Powder/Jinx from herself, but because fate has had a trajectory already outlined refuses to let him go that far back.

Perhaps the events of episode 6 are where the Wild Rune will allow this fate's story to be manipulated, like rewritting a chapter to determine a better ending to the book. There could be a chance that Jinx will play a pivitol role in the events to come, and that her dying before the upcoming battle will ensure a bad outcome... Or that could just be my own wishful thinking, I don't know.

#arcane #jinx #lol #ekko #jayce talis #Heimendinger #Arcane season 2 act 3 theory #Time travel and manipulation #I love Riot's writing and animation teams #Timebomb #If you squint

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homelanderbutbig · 17 days ago

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With You By My Side (G/T Homelander x Reader)

1842 words. Hurt/comfort, and a bit of angst. Homelander is 8 feet tall. Reader is non-descriptive. Established relationship.

Homelander hurts you during a nightmare, and somehow he's more affected. Inspired by this ask.

While you don't know the full extent of Homelander's past, you know how he struggles to sleep at night. He may start out normally, but like clockwork, there is always a nightmare. Remnants of his traumatic childhood that still infest his psyche, jolting him from his slumber. You've seen him in the morning, waking from his horrid memories with a haunting gasp. Despite his heightened fear he still allows you to comfort him, snuggling his head into your chest and calming him down with your soothing words.

It isn't a perfect way to deal with his trauma, but it helps having someone there to guide him through it. Knowing that he can be safe in your arms no matter what he's dreamt brings him a meager level of solace he never was allowed to experience.

But this time, that didn't happen.

The evening comes and goes as normal, ending with the both of you sleeping in his bed. It must have been very late when you stirred awake hearing noises coming from beside you. You usually are a pretty sound sleeper, this was the first time you've caught him mid-nightmare. He's in an absolute state of disarray; his breaths are frenzied, his eyes are twitching uncontrollably, and his fists are clenching his bedsheets so tightly you swear he ripped them.

"Hey, wake up honey," you whisper, reaching out to touch his hand. You aren't really sure of the protocol to wake someone experiencing night terrors, but all you understand in this moment is Homelander needs help.

What ensues is faster than you can react. Your nudging indeed jolts him from his dreams, but even just a simple touch creates an automatic fight-or-flight response. With a guttural yell he launches upwards, eyes alight with a crimson heat as he swats fiercely at the imagined danger laying a finger on him.

In his dreams he was reliving a crystal clear memory of when he was a child in the lab, surrounded by doctors preparing another experiment on him. They were poking and prodding, sharp instruments gliding all over his body, his skin perceiving the searing and stabbing pain like it was truly real. When one particular touch pushes him over the edge, he awakes and immediately attacks in an attempt to protect himself.

However, instead of the familiar faces of the doctors he grew to despise, Homelander sees nobody in front of him. The ghosts of his past have released him from their grasp. Catching his breath he scans what is in front him, and begins to recognize his surroundings. He's safe, he's in his bedroom… but then…

Oh no.

In his bid to force whatever was touching him away, his large hand struck you so hard that he broke your wrist. He can easily see the extent of the damage with his X-ray vision. And you're glancing up at him in utter shock, clearly in pain but the extent of it not entirely hitting you yet.

His lasers dissipate as he stares directly at you, eyes wide and unblinking, mouth slightly open but unable to form a sentence. Everything around him no longer feels like reality. His heart is beating out of his chest, tears flowing down his cheeks as he is consumed by the realization of what he's done. The one thing he swore he would never do, hurt the sole person on earth that he loves.

He doesn't say one word to you before he frantically runs out of the bed and flies away from the balcony launchpad. He doesn't even take the 20 seconds to put his suit on, he couldn't stand the sight of what he'd done any longer.

Now you're alone to deal with the injury he's caused.

~~~

You're eternally grateful that there was still security roaming the Tower floors so late at night, and that nobody was questioning why you were walking around Vought wearing your pajamas. Everything that happened after Homelander broke your wrist was a blur, you were running on pure adrenaline. After he flew away, you rushed out to the elevator and went down to the main floor, calling out for help which luckily was not too far away. You were whisked away to the hospital, where your wrist was X-rayed and a cast was applied. Now with your pain under control, the doctor asked where you would be staying while you healed.

By the time you return to the penthouse, it's late in the afternoon. You considered not going back at all, perhaps just renting a hotel room and spending some time away from Homelander to process what transpired. But realistically you knew that was never going to happen, when you're dating a man who can hear your heartbeat from across the city. It's best to just confront him, and hash out these problems together.

Walking through the rooms, you notice how it doesn't seem like he's been back yet. Or so you thought, as peering into the bedroom reveals that his suit is missing from his bedside stand. He must have returned at some point to dress himself, but making certain that you weren't there. You can't say that it isn't something out of the ordinary; he will avoid you if he's feeling guilty about upsetting you with one of his shenanigans. And this time what he did was a doozy.

While contemplating in his bedroom, you hear the familiar sound of Homelander touching down on his balcony. He couldn't bear the long elevator ride up to the penthouse, and he's had enough time to be alone with his thoughts. After fleeing last night he hid out in the only place he can find reprieve in, his cabin. Yet he couldn't sleep, he was relentlessly pacing back and forth trying to come to terms with what occurred. He's always so careful to mind his strength, but he always knew this would happen eventually. There was a reason Madelyn never let him touch her; she was like you, a measly human. You might be intellectually on the same playing field, but physically... not only does he tower above you, he can also crush your skull with a flick of his wrist. One wrong move on his part and your life would be snuffed out.

And now you both have to come to the conclusion he's been obsessed with since he's gotten close to you. Your relationship was never going to work, it was doomed from the start.

You sigh to yourself, seeing him standing like a statue in the living room. Although he's facing your direction, his eyes are strictly planted on the ground. He's clearly held captive by his thoughts, the fear of what might happen next overtaking any rationality he usually possesses.

"Homelander," you call out to him, snapping him out of his dissociation as he jerks his head up. Now being able to see his face, you can tell how distressed this accident has been for him. His hair is unkempt from a lack of styling, his expression is dishevelled and drained, his eyes are bloodshot, and the residue of tears shed not long ago stain his face. He is a mess, but a mess of his own creation.

Because he was worried about you.

"Come lie down with me," you coax him as you use the stepping stool placed on the ground to maneuver on top of the bed. At first he refuses to move, but he can tell by the determined look in your eyes that you won't be taking no for an answer.

Tensing his jaw, he walks to the side opposite of you and hesitantly descends onto the bed. He's as still as a corpse in a coffin, petrified to move even in the slightest bit. Even moreso when he sees you shift closer to him, leaning against his pillow so you can look down at his big head.

"S-sorry…" you hear him mumble. The silence between you two was beginning to eat at him, and he had to say something… even if he was scared that you wouldn't forgive him.

"Sweetheart, it's okay. It wasn't your fault, I still love you," you reassure him. You can tell he's still struggling to accept your unconditional affection, especially now that's his greatest fear has been realized. He's hurt you, how can you even think of staying with him?

You're aware Homelander had an isolated childhood, and as a result he tends to overexamine his relationships. Every time he gets close to someone, he must look for the slightest hint of that person getting ready to leave him. They always do. It's times like these that really exemplify how despite being a foreboding eight foot tall giant, breaking through his 'tough guy persona' reveals that he's just a lonely, vulnerable child at heart. One who's only ever been abandoned, and who's desperate to never let that happen again.

"You know what humans and supes have in common?" you question him, smiling as he shakes his head no. He hasn't taken his eyes off you since he's lied down. "We're resilient. We might get hurt, but we all have the strength to heal the best we can. And I will heal too, with you by my side, there to help me."

With your one good arm you stroke his cheek with your palm. He wastes no time in angling his head into your delicate touch, craving this intimacy that he fretted he was going to lose forever. And the longer you pet him, the more his self-imposed burdens ease. The creases on his forehead and his furrowed brows have finally relaxed, leaving him with nothing more than to melt into your affection.

"You look like you're exhausted baby boy, you haven't gotten any sleep huh?" you ask, observing how Homelander is fighting a losing battle to keep his eyes open. And you're feeling quite tired yourself; you've been wired awake since your wrist was broken.

"I-I… I can't…" he stutters, tears once more forming in his eyes as a fresh wave of anxiety builds in his chest. "W-what i-if…"

"What if nothing," you cut him off, halting his crying once you lean down to kiss his forehead. "I'm not going to abandon you. If you have another nightmare, so be it. I will be here for you when you wake up, same as always. I promise to help you heal too."

Sighing deeply through his nose, he gives a nod in agreement to your words. He's too tired to fight back against your suicidal decision to stay with him… not that he'd want to anyway. Resting his big head against your chest, he's quickly lulled into slumber by the dulcet sounds of your heart in his ears, and the pleasant sensations of your fingers running along his scalp.

And for the first time in what feels like forever, Homelander wakes up in the morning feeling peaceful. He's safely snuggled up against the love of his life, and you kept your promise. You helped protect him from a nightmare.

#the boys #the boys tv #homelander #homelander x reader #g/t #size difference #my writing

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becauseimanicequeen · 3 months ago

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The Timelines in 4 Minutes

Since the Olympics are finally over, and I have three episodes of 4 Minutes to go on, I thought I would spend some time trying to figure out the timelines.

I'm someone who figures out what I want to say by writing it out, so this post will most likely be me "thinking out loud" and drawing conclusions as I go, and then, at the end, I'll have a clearer view of the timelines (hopefully).

(This is most likely going to be one long-ass post, so beware.)

Let's start with some initial notes before I dive into the fun stuff.

The contents of this post may be influenced by some of my theories (pre-premiere theories, episode 1, episode 2, episode 3), and I might come up with new ones as I write this post (they will be highlighted in purple so possible readers of this mammoth post can choose to ignore them if they want, lol), but my focus is primarily on the timelines themselves and, perhaps, on the passing of time throughout the episodes as well.

As I start this post, I believe there are 3 timelines (which are subject to change as I continue to write):

The present timeline, which is what starts off both the 1st and the 2nd episodes (these are events from the future from our current vantage point).

The 4-minute timeline, which is where Great changes things (I've previously called this the OOBE timeline, since I believe Great is having an out-of-body experience and is "reliving" his past).

Then there's a possible third timeline (I've previously thought it might've been the real past, which showed us events that actually happened in the past paralleled with the 4-minute timeline) but I'm most unsure about this one, so I'll just call it the 3rd timeline until my thoughts are more clear about it.

Now... Where the hell do I start?

Time

It might be a good idea to start with the clues that there are different timelines at play and then dive deeper into the episodes to figure out what's happening.

Besides the obvious clues that Great is sent back in time when he has his moments of the 4-minute phenomenon (4MP), there are other clues that different timelines are at play.

The first clue shows up in the Korn and Tonkla scene from the 1st episode and all the way through to the scene where Korn drops Great off at his place after their family dinner.

This is where I'll be crazy about the details (but I'm a hundred percent sure they matter, especially since this whole show is about time), but if we look at Korn's watch when he arrives at Tonkla's place, it says 7:15-ish pm.

Later, when Tonkla wants a second round, it says 8:55 pm.

Then they get interrupted because Korn's dad wants him home for dinner. They have their family dinner, and then, when Korn drops Great off at his condo after dinner, Korn's watch says 7:15-ish while the clock on Great's phone says 07:13.

(Great already has issues with time, which I believe is the effect of him having a cardiac arrest at 11:00 in the present, but the time anomaly in this particular sequence is different than Great seeing 11:00 and counting when he's alone.)

This whole sequence is meant to be the same day Great hit Manee with his car. All of them (even the dad and Great's mom) are wearing the same clothes they wore when introduced throughout that very same day. Yet, the times on the visible watches and clocks tell us something strange is going on.

(Could this just be me overanalyzing the watches and clocks? Sure. But the interesting thing is that the time is still consistent in the sequence with Korn and Tonkla. It would make sense that they talk, then fuck, and then lie there butt ass naked and cuddling for a total of 1 h 40 min. And, again, considering this show is about time, I trust that the creators have been meticulous about those details, even if it means changing the time on the watches and clocks for every new take if needed.)

Considering what I wrote above, I might start calling the 3rd timeline Tonkla's timeline, because I feel like it revolves around him.

Either way, I will focus on the 4-minute timeline and the third one in particular because I don't see a possible 4th one right now (I might by the end of this post, though, lol).

The question is, then, how we can determine which scenes belong to which timelines. I will get to that further below, because first...

Let’s look at some more details I’ve noticed.

Blurry Edges

One of those details is the dreamy, blurry edges (I'm sure there's a technical term for this, but I have no idea what that might be, I'm just guessing that they're adding it in post-production, but don't quote me on that). Much of the show has a dreamy feel overall, but I'm talking about the blurry edges in particular.

I've noticed blurry edges in the following scenes:

When Great feels iffy in the elevator (ep 1)

I'm pretty sure there's some of it happening in the scene when Tyme is treating Manee, both in the ER and in the OR during the surgery (ep 1)

At the family dinner when Great's mom tells him he should go see Manee at the hospital (ep 1)

When Great feels iffy at the hospital before his second 4MP (ep 1)

When Great is sitting in Title's car talking about where View is (ep 2)

I'm not sure about this one since it's hard to tell because it's dark, but it might be used in the scene where Title beats the shit out of Dome (ep 2)

When Great brings Dome into the hospital (ep 2)

When Korn is having a meeting with Fasai and her dad (ep 2)

When Great feels iffy and has his fourth 4MP at the basketball court (ep 3)

When Win reads through Tonkla's brother's social media posts and comments, which is a memory of him doing it (ep 3)

And I'm pretty sure we're getting more of this since there were scenes in the trailer that had those blurry edges as well, for example:

The pattern I'm seeing with these scenes (if we exclude the first scene in the elevator, Korn's meeting with Fasai, and Win's memories, the latter might've had blurry edges just because it was his memory, btw) is that each scene has something to do with Great's 4MP, before the rewind and/or after the rewind.

(Perhaps the reason for the blurry edges showing up in Korn's scene is because he's the possible third character that's having an OOBE. And if this theory is true, there's a possibility that there's yet another timeline/reality/perspective present that entwines with both Tonkla's and Great's timelines.)

There are also the tilting camera shots (mostly showing up in scenes with Great), which I might get into next week as I continue to build on this post.

But, what does all this with the blurry edges mean?

I have no fucking clue.

Perhaps it's just meant to show that things aren't what they seem. Perhaps it's meant to show which characters are experiencing OOBEs (Great, Tyme, and possibly Korn)? Perhaps it's meant to show moments that are affected by Great changing them through his 4MP? Again, I have no fucking clue, yet (but it might start to get clearer as we get more episodes).

So, moving on...

Different Realities/Parallel Worlds/POVs?

There is another aspect to this whole timelines discussion I'm having with myself that I want to bring up. And that's the clues I've found that support the possibility of different realities/parallel worlds/different point-of-views. I'm not sure what to call them, yet.

So, let's dive into the moments I'm referring to and try and figure it out.

The second time Great experiences his 4MP, he goes to the ER's front desk and we're shown the nurse's actual desk where there's a clock that we're supposed to focus on because it's telling us that time will do weird shit again.

The moment Great has been sent back in time (after being in Manee's room), he's standing in the same position, looking down at the clock on the desk, and realizes it's happened again (just like when he hit Manee). However, this time, the things on the desk are different.

The time on the clock is the same, but the mirror is in a different position, 75 has turned to 74 (I'm not sure what these numbers mean), 77F has turned to 76F (which I'm guessing are Fahrenheit degrees), and the pink, blue, and yellow papers are lying on top of the folder the second time around.

If Great was sent back in time to the exact moment he was in before he went to Manee's room, the things on the desk would've been in the same place, right? So, he might not even have been sent back to the reality he was in before this 4MP happened.

Another clue is the sunrise and the sunset artworks on the wall at the hospital. We often see them by the entryway:

Then, in the 2nd episode, it looks like at least the right one is hanging outside Manee's room (which we've seen isn't anywhere near the front desk since Great had to walk around a bend to get to her room in the first episode).

Could they have more than one of those artworks in the hospital? Sure. So, take this with a grain of salt.

(Btw, I find those artworks so fascinating because sunrises are usually cooler (more blueish) while sunsets are usually warmer (more red/orangeish). But from our perspective, looking at them straight on, the warmer artwork has the sun setting in the west while the cooler artwork has the sun rising in the east. And, since the eye in left-to-right reading cultures often automatically goes from left to right, it's interesting that the sunset comes first and then the sunrise. Perhaps it's to show that the world is turned upside down now that Great is having these weird experiences. Or perhaps it's to show that the time between the sunset and sunrise will be important for Great and Tyme since Great watches Tyme pass those artworks (from sunset to sunrise) the first time he has visions of them having sex. But, I digress...)

Another set of clues is in the scene with Great and Tyme sitting on the bleachers by the basketball court and Great has another 4MP in the third episode.

The first time we see this wide shot, there are 5 people (excluding Great and Tyme):

4 of them are wearing white shirts (one with a darker cardigan), and they sit on Great's side. One wears a blue shirt and sits on Tyme's side. This is where Great asks Tyme why he didn't call before coming to the University.

As they continue to talk (and the camera shot is closer to them), you can see the top of the head of a girl walking towards the bleachers. There's also another person walking by, waving, but he's walking right past them rather than towards the bleachers.

Then, as Great thanks Tyme for the Thai tea and gets up to leave, we get this wide shot. The only difference here is that the girl who walked towards the bleachers is now sitting next to her friend. That seems logical, right?

But, then Great has his rewind, and he comes back to the moment where Tyme reminds Great to get his wound treated. Great tells Tyme about his precognition and Tyme tells Great that he will consult with one of his doctor friends. Then, as Tyme stands up to leave, we get this wide shot:

The two girls at the bottom left are in the same position but the girls two steps above and to the far left are different, the boy and the girl next to them are new, and the boy with the white shirt to the right is the same boy that sat on Great's side previously.

Coincidence?

Well... After Tyme tells Great that he can call him Tyme rather than Doctor, and Great says that they should grab something to eat after he gets his wound treated, we get this shot:

Now we're back to the original two girls to the left, there are new boys wearing black on the bottom left, and the boy in blue is back again. That's a lot of moving around in such a short time.

The only things that stay consistent in all of the shots are the bags (except for one of them) and bottles.

So, what's going on? Is this another one of those things that happened at the hospital where Great was sent back to a reality where things were different from the reality he was in before the 4MP?

Is the show giving us different perspectives? For example, Great's perspective before his 4MP, Tyme's perspective when he says he'll talk to Den, and Great's perspective again when Tyme has left? That could work for the hospital example as well since it was from Great’s perspective before the 4MP but turned into Tyme’s after the 4MP as he asked the nurse at the front desk who the guy that bumped into him was.

Or is the show just underlining how strange everything is during the 4-minute timeline (and Great's possible OOBE)?

Well, the latter might not be it because clues like this don't just show up when Great is around.

In the first episode when Korn comes to Tonkla's place, Tonkla's laptop shows he has something blue and yellow on his screen:

Then the screen is black as if it's been turned off:

Later, when it cuts to them lying naked on the sofa, it's just white:

Also, notice how the small spotlight behind the desk is positioned differently and pointing in another direction on the desk than in the first image above.

Could it be that Tonkla simply used the laptop and moved the lamp between them having sex and lying there? Sure. Again, if we look at Korn's watch from the beginning of this whole sequence (7:15-ish pm) to when Tonkla wants a second round (8:55 pm), we know he had 1 h 40 min to rearrange things and do stuff on that laptop.

But, you know, unless the house is on fire, who would move from that spot on top their sugar daddy who is lying there deliciously naked? And especially to do some stuff on a laptop? Fuck technology (the not-so-good kind of fuck) and fuck your sugar daddy instead (the deliciously bad kind of fuck). We all know Tonkla wants to. But, I digress...

Take this detail with a grain of salt if you want to (or a whole fistful). For me, though, this shows that there's a possibility that changes and inconsistencies like this aren't just happening around Great. And (to my crazy mind, at least), that it might be two timelines showing up throughout this particular sequence between Korn and Tonkla.

24 Hour vs AM/PM Clock Settings

And on the topic of inconsistencies... Another thing I want to point out is the inconsistencies with the digital clocks when it comes to them being 24-hour clocks or set to the am/pm thing.

The hospital seems to have a 24-hour setting in some cases:

But not in others:

This could be in the morning, of course, and the darkness outside Manee's window might just be because of the thunder/lightning storm (but I still think it's night rather than morning).

And then we also have Great (who, to be fair, has a special relationship to time in this show), who sees 11:00/11:02 both in the morning and at night:

And the am/pm thing is on his phone when Korn drops him off:

Even though his phone seems to have the 24-hour setting:

More than once:

But, again, Great clearly has issues with time and clocks/watches. So, this might just be a way to show how confusing it is to him.

But, what if it isn't? What if it's an indication that several realities are entwining? (Okay, I feel like I'm going with the term "realities" when it comes to this.)

My Timelines So Far

So, what are my conclusions after watching the first 3 episodes?

At this point, I think there are 3 timelines:

The present timeline.

The 4-minute timeline.

The real past/Tonkla's timeline (which is meant to show us the real past events that happened, most of it from Tonkla's perspective).

Having Tonkla's timeline be the real past is possible considering the inconsistencies in time during the Korn and Tonkla scene and then the Korn and Great scene in the 1st episode.

And before someone says this doesn't make sense because of all the missed calls Korn has (if anyone is still reading this, lol)... Well, that's because Korn exists in both timelines and the scene when he looks at the missed calls in that bathroom in the 3rd episode:

Could be the 4-minute timeline rather than Tonkla's timeline (the real past). That could make sense because all we've seen of Tonkla since Korn told him off over the phone is him waiting by his phone for Korn to call.

We never saw Tonkla call Korn again after being told off.

On the flip side, if Korn is in the real past when he looks at those missed calls in episode 3, it would make sense that when he wants to call Tonkla while he's waiting for Great at the bar (in the 4-minute timeline), the icons on the top right of his phone are different from the phone he looked at in the bathroom:

(Am I getting too crazy about this? Yes. Do I care? No, because it's fun.)

Could he be using different phones? Yes. Could those icons change depending on where he is and what settings he's using? Sure (I'm not familiar with Samsung phones so I have no idea what most of those icons mean). But it could also mean that we're seeing Korn in different timelines in these two scenes, which makes it possible for Tonkla's timeline to show us the real past.

(I personally prefer the option that the scene with Korn looking at the missed calls is from Tonkla's timeline (the real past) while Korn almost calling Tonkla in the bar, and then smiling at his phone as he's going to the bathroom, is from the 4-minute timeline where Tonkla's brother (who I believe is Dome) hasn't been killed.)

Also, I think showing us the real past is a smart way to show us what leads up to Tonkla beating the shit out of someone.

(I believe that scene is from the real timeline, and whoever he's beating with that rock, might have an effect on the things that are happening right now. I'm not sure what kind of effect, though. Perhaps it's a possible third person experiencing an OOBE and "living" in the 4-minute timeline. Perhaps Great is going through this OOBE to prevent that murder from happening after he wakes up (if he ever does). I'm not sure at this point.)

So, that's where I'm at with the timelines after 3 episodes.

And, when it comes to the inconsistencies in certain scenes, the easy answer is that they are just meant to show that this whole 4-minute timeline is an inconsistent mess of (what I believe to be) Great's OOBE.

But, I would personally find it more interesting if these inconsistencies (like all the people around Great and Tyme changing in that scene at the basketball court) are evidence that there is more than one character experiencing an OOBE and that the inconsistencies shown are there because the characters have different perspectives of the events happening.

Now, I had planned to make a flowchart of the scenes in each episode divided into the three different timelines I've written about above. But, I want to get this post out before the 4th episode drops tomorrow, and I just don't have time to make the flowchart before that (or enough images left in this post to fit something like a flowchart in it before I hit the pesky limit). So I'll wait with that chart until next week instead (when I'll continue to build on this post in a reblog).

Waiting to create and post the flowchart until after the new episode tomorrow also gives me another episode to nerd out about. It's a win-win for me.

#ice queen holmes #4 minutes #4 minutes the series #thai ql #thai bl #thai series #my shit

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