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meazalykov · 4 months ago

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beneath the surface

sydney lohmann x reader

summary: you wanted support from anyone, even if it had to come from the girl who hated you.

warnings: enemies to lovers, homophobic family mention, angst, comfort

authors note: this might be my favorite one I've written in a while, enjoy ❤️

from the moment you first stepped onto the pitch at bayern munich, you thought that something about sydney rubbed you the wrong way.

maybe it was the way she seemed to effortlessly glide through training sessions, always a step ahead of you, or perhaps it was her sharp tongue that cut through any conversation you attempted.

whatever it was, it didn't take long for you to realize that the two of you would never be friends.

it wasn’t just that you were different. you were both incredibly passionate, fiercely competitive, and determined to make your mark on the team. but where you saw passion, sydney saw arrogance.

where you tried to assert yourself, she saw an opportunity to knock you down a peg. the rivalry was born out of mutual frustration, each of you unwilling to back down, refusing to show any sign of weakness.

the tension only grew with each passing game, every comment dripping with sarcasm, every interaction tinged with disdain.

you kept telling yourself it was because you were both just too similar, both too stubborn to ever really get along.

but deep down, there was a part of you that wondered if maybe, just maybe, there was something more to it. something you were too scared to acknowledge.

when the international break rolled around, you were looking forward to the time away from sydney. the space would do you good, give you a chance to clear your head and focus on your game without the constant friction.

you got along with your national teammates well, and a few of them are aware about your "problem" with the german midfielder-- the problem being your denial about your feelings towards her.

they figured it was something that you'd have to figure out on your own.

but that plan was shattered the moment you received the ball from your central midfielders in the second-half of a friendly.

when you went to shoot the ball into the goal, you felt the sharp pain in your knee, the one that knocked you to the ground and sent your world spiraling.

the ball flew into the audience and people were shocked about your miss, until they saw you clench your knee while laying on the grass.

you had a torn acl. the words told from the doctor felt like a death sentence.

nine months out, maybe more. no soccer, no team, no escape from the thoughts that were beginning to suffocate you.

and now, here you were, back in munich lying in a hospital bed after the surgery, staring at the sterile white walls, wondering how everything had gone so wrong.

your club teammates were all away, scattered across the globe representing their countries.

you’d never felt more alone. the pain in your knee was nothing compared to the ache in your chest, the overwhelming fear that you’d never be the same player again, that you’d be forgotten, left behind as the world moved on without you.

none of your family could be here in munich with you.

correction, they didn't want to be here with you.

ever since you've came out as lesbian to your parents years back, they've wanted nothing to do with you or your football career. this is a main reason why you moved overseas away from them-- you can't be yourself if they're near you again.

you try to push those thoughts away, but they keep creeping back in, filling your mind with doubt and dread.

you’re so lost in your own misery that you don’t hear the door open.

it’s not until you hear a soft cough that you glance up, startled to see sydney standing there, a hesitant look on her face.

for a moment, you just stare at her, unable to process why she’s here, in your room, of all places.

your first instinct is to snap at her, to tell her to leave, but the words die in your throat when you notice the slight tremble in her hands, the uncertainty in her eyes.

she doesn’t look like the confident, sharp-tongued girl who’s been your nemesis for months. she looks…nervous.

"hey." she smiles lightly. she crosses her arms together as she looks at you, before moving her eyes down to your knee in the cast.

you didn't speak, nervous that she might use this opportunity to weaken you more.

“i’m here to support you,” she says, her voice quiet, almost unsure. it’s the last thing you expected to hear, and you feel a pang of confusion mixed with something else—something you don’t want to name.

why would she be here? what does she get out of this? you want to ask, but the loneliness is too overwhelming, and the idea of someone, anyone, being there for you is too tempting to resist.

instead of pushing her away, you nod, your voice coming out shaky as you say, “thanks.”

the silence stretches on, heavy with things unsaid. you’ve always hated the silence with sydney, always felt like it was another battle you needed to win.

but now, in this tiny hospital room, it feels different. it feels like a truce.

sydney lingers by the door for a moment before she finally takes a step closer, her eyes searching yours. again, you can’t help but flinch, nervous about what she might do or say, half-expecting her to use your vulnerability against you.

but she doesn’t. instead, she just stands there, waiting, as if she's giving you time to come to terms with her presence.

“i don’t get it,” you murmur, your voice betraying your confusion.

“why are you here? i thought you… i thought you hated me.”

sydney’s expression softens, and for the first time, you see something other than anger or annoyance in her gaze.

“i never hated you,” she says, the words so soft you almost miss them.

“I am sorry. i just didn’t know how to deal with how i felt.” sydney continues.

your heart skips a beat, and you feel your stomach twist into knots. there’s a part of you that’s known all along—known that the tension between you two was more than just rivalry, more than just competitiveness.

but you’ve been too scared to admit it, too scared to acknowledge that what you felt for sydney wasn’t hate at all.

“i like you, sydney. more than i should have. and i know you didn’t feel the same, so i tried to bury it, to forget about it. but it never worked.” you say, without really thinking, the words tumble out of your mouth before you can stop them.

you expect sydney to recoil, to look at you with disgust or pity, but she doesn’t. instead, she moves closer, her eyes never leaving yours.

“you think i didn’t feel the same?” she asks, her voice tinged with disbelief.

“why do you think i pushed you so hard at bayern ? i didn’t know how to handle it either.” she lightly smiles, awkwardly.

you don’t know what to say. your mind is racing, trying to piece together what’s happening, trying to make sense of this sudden shift in your reality.

but before you can respond, sydney is reaching out, her hand hovering over yours for a moment before she finally takes it, her touch sending a jolt of warmth through you.

“i brought you flowers and pastries,” she says, her voice a little stronger now, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of her lips.

“i figured you could use some cheering up.” the taller girl says.

for a moment, you forgot about your injury-- and why you were laying down in the hospital bed in the first place.

you were aware about sydney's leg injury, and why she is here in munich and not in iceland with the rest of her german national team.

what sydney did is a simple gesture, but it feels monumental, like a bridge being built between the two of you.

“thank you.” you say, for the first time in what feels like forever, you let yourself smile, just a little.

sydney smiles back, and the tension in the room seems to melt away. it’s not gone entirely, but it’s different now—softer, more manageable.

when she hands you the large bouquet of flowers and pastries, you set them aside and gesture toward the bed.

“do you… want to watch something? there’s a really bad reality show on that might be fun to laugh at.” you comment.

it’s an invitation, a tentative step toward something new.

sydney hesitates for only a moment before she nods and climbs onto the bed beside you. the two of you settle in, the awkwardness slowly fading as you share a blanket, the closeness feeling surprisingly natural.

as the show plays in the background, you feel sydney’s arm brush against yours, and before you know it, you’re leaning into her, resting your head on her shoulder.

it’s the first time you’ve ever let yourself be this close to her, and it feels… right.

sydney doesn’t pull away. instead, she shifts slightly, wrapping an arm around you, holding you close. and for the first time in weeks, you feel a sense of peace wash over you, the fear and loneliness ebbing away as you allow yourself to just be, here in this moment, with her.

maybe things will be different now. maybe this is the start of something new, something better. but for now, you’re content to just be here, wrapped up in sydney’s warmth, letting yourself believe that, for once, everything might just be okay.

hope you love this as much as I did <3

my master list is here if you want to read more fics <3

#sydney lohmann x reader #sydney lohmann #woso community #woso fanfics #woso x reader #gerwnt #bayern frauen #bayern munich #champions league

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iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia · 4 months ago

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Full headcanons for when MC regains all of their missing memories please 🙏🏽🙏🏽

The Arcana HCs: When MC regains their memories

Julian

It's one thing to discover, with someone who also didn't remember at the time, that he had essentially forgotten about you when you needed his help most. It's another to remember it

The early stages you spent still working with him, still sending him communications, still hoping he'd stop to connect long enough to notice your condition and do his job as a doctor and your friend

You don't know which hurts worse, that, or the later stages you spent weak and dying and alone, hoping against hope that he'd notice you were gone and come to help you through the last of it

The way his face falls in regret and pain when you finally tell him what those days were like is a closure you didn't know you needed

As much as it hurts both of you to address, the fact that Julian feels like you can forgive him while knowing the full extent of what he's done gives him an even stronger faith in your relationship

He's also excellently suited to helping you unpack it all - he's been through the same thing himself, having missing memories change how he lives, and then getting them all back at once. He gets it

So excited to learn all about your past self from you

Asra

If this ultimately makes you a happier, healthier person, they are both delighted for you and hugely relieved that it happened

One of his many fears after bringing you back was that he wouldn't be able to give you a life worth having. Your lack of memories definitely contributed to that, and seeing you recover is wonderful

Of course it's not all sunshine and rainbows. As soon as you've reached a point where you can talk about it, they're asking you for your forgiveness all over again and for your side of the story

He left you where he knew it was dangerous, and he failed to stay with you because he chose his fear over his love. He didn't even leave you a way to call for him when you needed him

At the same time, it's their unfailing presence with you now that helps you overcome the disjointedness of it all. They've grown and matured, but your current and old memories alike feature them

So when you're ready to reminisce, to start talking about your old antics and embarrassing mistakes and weird habits, the same best friend who saw it all then will remember it with you now

Only now, there's no walls, fears, or secrets left between you

Nadia

Your memories are back? Tell her everything

Seriously, everything. It's been so fulfilling for her to have someone to trust and allow into her heart and mind and space, and she's often regretted that you can't do the same to that capacity

She does struggle early on not to feel guilty when you mention things like Vesuvia's failing economy or the ravages of the Red Plague, but she's quick to keep the focus on you

Soaks up all the little details and anecdotes you share with her

You remember your childhood favorite food? She's having it served at tea, to see if it tastes the way you remember it

You mentioned a song you remember a parent or family member singing? She's boosting the local music scene with a big prize for whoever can find and learn to play/sing it to you

Really, really wants to visit all the places you have your core memories in. Taking you to Prakra gave her a closure and bond with you that she really wants you to enjoy as well

It goes without saying, but she has an open invitation to anyone you want to reconnect with to visit or stay at the Palace

Muriel

He's happy ... for you. He knows how deeply formative memories and history are, and it's only right for you to have your roots back

He's also the closest to terrified and insecure he's been in a long time, and that's because if you remember a time before the end of the Plague, you remember the time when he was the Scourge

He doesn't care for secrets. He's never hidden who he was from you. He knows you saw his old self and that it hasn't changed how you love him. But it's different when it's your memories, not his

What if you visited the Coliseum without him knowing?

What if you took a seat and experienced the disappointment and revulsion of seeing your best friend's oldest friend, maybe even someone you were fairly close with as well, turn into a killer?

But if you could look at his memories and still commit to loving him, he can and will do the exact same for you

Gives you space when you need it and sticks by your side when you need it, always ready to lend an ear when you want to share

Happy to go on a trip with you if it'll let you reconnect with lost family and roots. You did the same for him, after all!

Portia

Oh she's not worried at all. She knows you two have got this

Whatever there is in your history that she may have an issue with, she knows you two can talk about it and she knows who you are now is not who you used to be. No serious concerns there

That aside, you can finally live with (roughly) the same amounts of memories she has! This is great! You should write them down!

Not the best at giving you space if you want to process alone, but so empathetic with the whole adjustment that it's almost impossible to feel misunderstood. She's got your back

Even with the tricky relational stuff. Her older brother and Asra, especially. She knows you knew them when things were bad, and she's ready to mediate any hard conversations you need to have

And she'll give you all the emotional support you need after

Almost scarily dedicated to helping you track down and reconnect with people from your past. (Given how she spent three years hunting down her brother, it's not hugely surprising ...)

So confident and settled in your relationship that it makes sorting through the memories easier. You're still each other's fresh start

Lucio

He's happy for you! He really is! He promises! (all said with both hands in the air, a strained smile, and a bead of sweat rolling down the side of his face while the dogs look unimpressed)

Okay so maybe he's a little scared

He knows you've talked about it. Hell, you walked with him through the landscape of his memories and failings and somehow managed to hold love for him as he went

But if you can actually remember, now, what he did ... who he used to be ... what you suffered because of him both directly and indirectly, and yes, the horrific death you can remember now too

He knows he's changed and his faith in you is boundless but his faith in who he used to be is nonexistent, for good reason

Almost makes you lose your temper pestering you for how you really feel and tripping over his feet to prove himself after

Once you've told him that nothing about your relationship is under threat, he becomes an amazing partner to help you unpack

He gets it. What it's like to relive visceral memories, for the past to feel so disjointed. He gets it, and he's got you

#ask arcana brainrot #the arcana #the arcana headcanons #the arcana hc #the arcana game #asra the arcana #julian the arcana #nadia the arcana #muriel the arcana #portia the arcana #lucio the arcana #asra alnazar #julian devorak #nadia satrinava #muriel of the kokhuri #portia devorak #lucio morgasson

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spockandawe · 2 years ago

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Here we go! I have some smaller books to share as well, but I've been absolutely VIBRATING with excitement to share a BIG one, and I'm going to indulge myself and post that today, then figure out words for the rest. Because I bound a new cnovel. Check it out, guys, I bound jwqs/clear and muddy loss of love :D

Let me indulge myself and backtrack a little! First, these are quarto books, so they're short. But I think these average a little under 500 pages each, and jwqs is a LONG book (my beloved), and this adds up to a total eleven inches of lesbians. More like twelve once they're in their cases. It's over a million characters in Chinese and I think the English translation comes in somewhere around 890k, it's HUGE

Making these books was SO FUN, I hadn't read jwqs and still haven't, and will probably read on my phone when I do. I don't have any exciting photos of the typesetting, but I knew this was an imperial succession story, and that made me nervous, those stories don't always click for me. Well, the process of typesetting and adding footnotes for this beast definitely confirmed that I'm going to have a good time with this thing when I have the time to read it, but there was also so much going on that only the vaguest of spoilers sank in. I went into an absolute FRENZY of typesetting, and after I printed, cut and folded it, well. That was one afternoon of sewing. You're looking at the reason I'm scrambling to make up a few hours of missed work, hahaha

After that, I needed cases. At the very beginning of march, I received a shipment of some FASCINATING bookcloth. It's called Duo, and it's made by layering a thin gauzy fabric of one color over paper of a different color. Depending on the combos, you get a really cool range of color-shifting effects. And they've gone out of production! But I was part of a group order to get some of the goods, and hadn't yet finished a new project. Reader, I went for it.

That purple and green is bananas!!!! It's so hard to photograph, this midnight picture of a few cases is one of my most successful attempts to capture the full range up close. Originally I'd been thinking of trying to evoke imperial gold, but I figured this was still the kind of drama and luxury suited the book, and also something something the hidden colors suited Qi Yan's character. I tied it back a little to the imperial gold with the endpapers, then titled them in silver foil, since the endpapers had silver in them.

But once the books were made, I felt like it wanted something... more. Something like a BOX!

And me, I chase novelty. A set this large would be tricky for anything clamshell, but a slipcase for all seven would leave books tipping all over if it was wide open, but putting walls between slots would be demanding in terms of precision and would risk similarly-sized books getting stuck in the wrong slots. Then I remembered learning about slipcases where you could put in a little insert to support the weight of the text block, and the concept SNAPPED into place.

Colors aren't going to photograph well at midnight, but I made the supports using the scraps and off-cuts from my endpapers, to tie it back into the bindings. The back of the case is lined in more of the duo, and the walls are lined with a faux leather bookcloth I like a lot, it feels buttery smooth and seemed like a good neutral material to tie the papers and bookcloth together. I listened to some of the DEEPEST layers from the nine-hour conspiracy theory iceberg video while I was working on this, haha, it was a TRIP.

And in the end, each of the supports is sized to comfortably sit in the smallest of the volumes, and evenly spaced, so I believe it will take the books in any order with no problems. It's easy to grab the books without having to cut notches into the walls to grab them from. And even though weight is less of an issue for quarto sizing, the books in here have their weight supported no matter what angle the box is at! I'm so, so pleased with how this concept worked out and definitely plan to do more with it in the future.

So there we are! Jing Wei Qing Shang! I had such a fabulous time with this project, and I'm so excited to get to share it with all of you. The story was fun to work with, the bindings and box were fun to make, and everything here came together just as well as I could possibly have hoped. I'm so proud of this, and incredibly, incredibly excited to show it to you!

#crafts #bookbinding #box making #oh boy what is this story tagged #jwqs #jing wei qing shang #clear and muddy loss of love #I'll pick one to stick with later 😂#long post/#so proud of this one!

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hyuuukais · 2 months ago

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⋆₊‧⁺˖⋆˚.⋆ ͙͘͡★ LOOK UP TO THE STARS

pairing ▪︎ han jisung x fem reader

synopsis ▪︎ sent out on a mission to a neighbouring QZ that's gone radio silent, y/n falls into the hands of a post-rebellion group after things go terribly wrong. giving up on rejoining her squad, she joins the group on a trek to find a missing member, the group leader's sister. what's supposed to be a not-so-simple trip out and back to their base becomes a one-way ticket to the end of everything they know.

warnings ▪︎ general, mention of feeling like a burden (not yn), vomiting (not in detail)

MASTERLIST | PREVIOUS | NEXT

CHAPTER THREE ▪︎ A QUIET NIGHT IN (6.2k)

Near-death experiences appear to have become your thing, having had another near miss when you're suddenly attacked in a wooded area by a small group of infected. At least that time you were able to save yourself, proving you can get out of a sticky situation if needed. Han has teased you relentlessly, only stopping when Chan tells him off. Even with Hyunjin he picks on you, but you give it to him as well.

By midday, everyone is tired, wordlessly begging Chan to let them take a rest. There's a long, hidden driveway creeping up a small hill that you spot up ahead. The surrounding area is quiet enough you should be able to hike up and take a break inside whatever building awaits.

"Hey." You jog up to Chan. "Up there. The houses around here are super spaced apart, so why not hole up in one for an hour or so? We can take out any infected and take turns keeping a lookout."

Chan eyes you, then swings around to face the others with a nod. "Everyone! We're gonna head up here, yeah? Take a look around for any infected and settle down for a while. I want to keep going before the sun goes down though, so do what you need to do in the time you have."

"Race you up there." A voice whispers into your ear; Han.

And so you run, and run, and run, side by side until you finally surpass him. Your laughter fills the air as you smack your hand on the door of the small house atop the hill, breathing heavily as you stumble inside. A pair of hands grab you from behind by the waist, lifting you off the ground and making you laugh even more.

"Let me go!" You manage to cough out between giggles and deep inhales. "Hyun-"

But it's not Hyunjin; it's Han.

"You can't do that," You blush, pushing him away. "Don't do that."

"Don't do what?" He smirks as he walks past you, peeking down the hallway to the right. "Make you laugh?"

"Be... intimate," You scold, following him down the hall.

There's a small set of stairs leading to three bedrooms, a bathroom, and an open closet at the end of the hallway. You step into the last bedroom, right before the closet. Clearly, it used to be a little girl's room, the name 'Hanni' painted in big yellow letters above a bed littered with worn plushies. You pick up the one closest to you, a floppy monkey missing an eye, and stare down at the photo on the nightstand. In the photo are two adults lifting a young girl up between them, undeniably happy. A heavy weight sits on your chest, and you find it hard to look away.

When you do finally tear your eyes off of the photo and go to leave the room, Han is leaning in the doorway. His breath catches when you find him staring at you, standing up straight and shoving his hands in his pockets. Blinking back unshed tears, ones you didn't realize even formed, you sit on the girl's bed. You don't invite him to sit with you, but he comes over anyway. The bed dips with his weight next to you.

"Remind you of your family?" He asks, voice softer than you thought it could be.

"No," You sniff. "No, it doesn't. I barely remember my family."

"Me too," Han says, genuine. "But Chan and the others have been my family for as long as it matters." He tries to meet your eyes, but they're glued to the monkey in your lap. "They could be yours too... if you let them."

"I don't think so." You shake your head. "Seungmin fits in fine here, but me?" Now you meet his eyes, placing the monkey aside. "Part of me thinks I'm better off alone. Yes, I have Hyunjin, and what we have is fun... but I know if it came down to it he wouldn't pick me over any of you."

Han just nods. "I feel that way too sometimes- about myself, not you. And we all know Hyunjin thinks Chan only values him for being a skilled fighter. Jeongin is constantly thinking he's not doing a good enough job because of his limited medical practice, yet being the designated doctor. We all have something."

"Why are you being so nice right now?" You sit further back on the bed, legs stretched out in front of you. "I thought you'd agree and say I should leave or something."

"Contrary to popular belief, I don't hate you." Han follows your actions, sitting back next to you. "It's fun to press your buttons."

"Oh, screw you." Laughing, you toss the discarded monkey at Han's chest.

He grabs the toy as you hit him with it, hands overlapping. For a moment, your heart speeds up, stuck on him. Your hand falls away when someone starts calling your names through the house, shuffling off the bed to join the others. Ignoring the way your heart is still pounding and the way your palms sweat, you greet Hyunjin with a peck on the cheek. He smiles down at you, replying with one on your temple. Soon after, Han emerges into the main room you're all standing in.

It's small, the living space, with a half-wall separating the kitchen ahead. To the left is a dining room with a long oval table, chairs knocked over, with table cloths and placemats moth-eaten. Remnants of a broken vase are scattered overtop, but plates set for dinner intact. You wonder what the family who lived here was like; were they about to sit and eat when the outbreak happened?

"We'll stay here for an hour or so," Chan announces. "I'm going to take a look around the perimeter, any volunteers wanna come with?"

You raise your hand.

"Alright. Y/n and I will go while the rest of you check the house and make sure it's safe. If anything goes wrong, you shout for us." His hands brush over his sheathed weapons. "We'll try and be quick. If we aren't back before the hour is up, assume we're dead and move on."

"Cheery," You whisper to Hyunjin, wrapping your arms around his neck.

"As always," He sighs, pressing his lips onto yours for what could be the last time.

Sticks and leaves crunch underfoot, no clear path to walk on. Chan walks slightly ahead of you with a hand on his gun, pausing to carefully mark trees with orange tape.

"Why the tape?" You asked before when he said he needed to grab something from his bag first.

"Knowing our group, someone'll wander off. This is so they know they've gone a bit too far and should probably head back," he said. "We might end up staying the night."

"How come?" You asked.

"To rest up fully," he said, only partially truthful.

There was more to it, something troubling him or one of the others who regularly confide in him. Something you weren't in on. Moments like that is what made you feel misplaced, like you weren't supposed to be apart of this journey. You should have left when you had the chance. Leaving now would be unfair to the group and you knew that; no matter how you felt, you needed to help them get to Chan's sister as much as you can.

"When'd you and Han meet?" You try to make conversation. "He said some stuff that made it seem you've known each other a long time."

An absent smile graces his features. "Ah, say ten years ago? He was a scared, angry little kid with a sharp eye. Still don't know where he learned to shoot so well at such a young age."

He stops to mark another tree, giving you take a second to look around. You're not too deep into the woodsy area, still able to make out the shape of the house if you squint hard enough, and you've made it almost all the way back around. There's been no sign of people or infected alike, birds chirping and squirrels chattering being the only noises. The sun has already started to set, golden beams hitting your bodies through the branches and creating a halo on Chan's head.

Hyunjin greets you at the door when you return, having offered to take first watch while the others take a break. Chaeryeong is out on the back porch occasionally strolling into view through the glass double doors leading to the wide backyard. Taking a seat next to Jeongin on the old, holey couch, you close your eyes with a sigh. No one bothers the two of you until Felix comes by with plates of previously canned food he made while you were on the verge of passing out. You take it gratefully, inhaling it rather than eating it.

In the corner of your eye, Jeongin rubs his leg around his right knee and calf, eyes shut in concentration. When he stands to head outside for some air, you notice the slight limp he walks with. It's barely noticeable, each step intentional. You don't ask about it when he comes back inside and sits back down, leg outstretched.

"Heading to bed yet?" Han swings his gun down onto his lap as he sits on the armchair to your left.

"Soon," You yawn, opening your eyes with difficulty. "I have to switch out with Chan in a couple of hours."

Before Han can reply, Hyunjin sits next to you on the arm of the couch and places a soft kiss on your forehead. You can practically feel Han rolling his eyes, getting up and walking away irritated. Why is he always like this? The moment you and Hyunjin do anything, he's annoyed.

"Is he like, jealous or something?" You sit up, arms crossed as you watch him slide the double doors open and step out, immediately striking up a conversation with Felix.

"Probably, but that's not our problem." Hyunjin slides into the spot between you and the arm, effectively squishing you.

You sigh. "Have you guys ever gotten along?"

"What? We get along fine," Hyunjin looks at you confused.

"Could have fooled me." Hyunjin opens his mouth, but you cut him off before he can start. "I'm gonna get some sleep before my shift, okay? See you later."

With a quick peck on his lips, you leave Hyunjin alone. The last thing you need right now is a deep-dive into Han and Hyunjins friendship, tired enough to sleep for a few years at least. Your brain is mush, not unlike a zombie's you imagine, unable to think full sentences anymore until after you've taken a chance to rest.

By this point in the day, everyone can tell you aren't leaving until early morning if you can help it. The sun has descended almost fully, leaving the world in hues of blue as night takes over. Other than you, Jeongin is the only one who hasn't taken a shift to watch yet. You figure he'll be paired with you, him switching off with Felix when you wake up. Drifting to sleep is easier than you thought it would be, brain turning off and leading you into a dreamless rest. When you do wake, there's a slight ache in your leg, but you ignore it as you rub the sleep out of your eyes and head to the front door where Chan should be.

"Listen, I don't want you getting hurt," Chan's voice is low, easily heard from where you stand by the open door. He hasn't noticed you there yet. "Let us take watch and go back inside, okay? I saw the way you were earlier, I know it's bothering you."

"I can deal." Jeongin sounds frustrated. "I don't want to be a burden-"

"Hey," Chan cuts him off sharply. "Don't ever think you're a burden. Never. Because you're not, you just need some extra rest, yeah? Bad days happen."

"Fine," Jeongin sighs and you open the door, pretending you heard nothing.

"Chan, you heading in?" You ask.

He nods. "Jeongin's feeling a bit under the weather, so Felix is gonna keep watch of the back a little longer until Chaeryeong is awake."

"Sounds good," you force a smile. You want to know what's wrong, but you don't want to press either. "Sleep well guys. The bed at the end of the hall has some plushies that are comfortable to lay your head on if you want."

Late in the night, you hear a distant cry. Instantly your gun is in your hand, knife in the other as you gaze out into the trees and down the hidden driveway. Although it sounded fairly animalistic, you know by now you can't take the chance of ignoring it. The sounds of the infected wandering the world varied from almost human, to sounds you can't compare to anything but the stuff of nightmares. When you hear the cry again, louder this time, you jog down the steps of the front stone porch and around the back, whispering to Felix. Chaeryeong is still asleep, but should be waking up soon to switch out.

You find Felix on the other side of the yard, weapon drawn and focused on the surrounding woods. Did he hear the same sounds as you, or did he hear something else back here? Hoping it's the former, you approach him quietly, careful not to scare him by accident. He must have seen you coming, holding up a hand behind his back to signal you to stop, and you do, bringing you own weapons up. The cry is louder again, but ever so slightly different than the one you heard.

"Lix, I think we need to get inside," You whisper, inching closer. "I heard something in the front too."

"If it's only two, we can take them out," He whispers back. "Any sign of more and I'll head in. You should probably go back to the front."

Frustrated with his answer, you obey and go back to your position. You're about to walk down the driveway when you see them; easily thirty infected beings are headed your way, but have yet to spot you. With a hand over your mouth, you crouch down by the wall of the house, moving as fast as you can to where you left Felix alone. As you turn the corner, you can see him backing away in the same crouched position as you. When he starts moving back to the house, you make eye contact and he makes a gesture with his hand to get back inside. Like you were going to do anything else.

Once inside, he breathes deeply as if he'd been holding his breath and you do the same. Outside, zombies are starting to emerge from the trees and wander across the yard. There's too many of them to be able to leave the area safely, opting to find everyone in the house and let them know the situation. Felix leaves to report to Chan, knowing he'll likely be with Jeongin and Han, and you go to find Chaeryeong sleeping on the same kids bed you did, waking her with a small shake and telling her to get to the others in the main room. Next is Hyunjin, but you see him exiting another bedroom with Chan, Jeongin, and Felix.

"Where's Han?" You make sure to keep your voice low. "Wasn't he with you guys?"

Chan shakes his head, jaw clenching. "Nope, he's the only one unaccounted for." He ushers everyone further into the house and down the hallway, stopping in front of the first bedroom on the left. "Everyone stay in here. Use the furniture to block the door in case some stragglers get inside and cover up the window. Stay low and out of sight, stay quiet, and most importantly, stay together, okay?"

"You're making this sound like you're not coming," Chaeryeong points out.

"Because I'm not, and before you can protest," he holds up a hand. "Jisung is family to me. I need to make sure he's safe."

"He's family to all of us," Hyunjin steps in. "And so are you."

With a sigh, Chan looks down. "I know."

"Let me go," You say, maybe a bit too loud.

Seungmin's head pops up sharply. "Absolutely not."

"If anything happens to me, it won't be nearly as devastating as it would be with Chan or Han," you look away from the others, losing courage just a bit from their stares. "I'm quick and I'm quiet when I need to be and will be in and out like that. He can't have gone too far anyway."

"Y/n, you can't seriously-" Hyunjin starts, but is cut off by Chan holding up a hand again.

"She has a point."

The others avoid your eyes now, nonverbally agreeing that you should be the potential sacrifice. Really nice to have that confirmed. Without another word, you leave the group, about to leave out the back doors when someone grabs your wrist.

"See you later?"

You give Seungmin a sad smile, knowing later isn't likely. "See you later."

A chill runs down your spine, from the cold or the sheer amount of infected, you don't know. From what you learned in your time at the QZ, the undead don't see as well at night and you need to use that to your advantage, whether it's true or not. Everything you've learned has become questioned knowledge; were they feeding you lies, always planning on sending you out to die? Or did any of the information you learned mean something?

Belly to the grass, you shuffle forward on your forearms in the direction Felix mentioned before you left the building. Of course, out of all people you were risking your life for it had to be Han Jisung. Not Hyunjin, not Seungmin, not even Chan? Han? Really? When you find him and are back safely, you are gonna rip him a new one for being so careless. What happened to the buddy system? Too good for him, apparently, too confident in his abilities.

Up ahead, you spot his gun lying among the sticks and leaves by a tree and your heart drops. Closer, you can see claw marks a couple feet up the tree trunk, a ripped piece of clothing hanging from a branch further up. Half of it is painted red, soaked in blood, and breathing is suddenly difficult. You're about to stand up carefully, a plan to climb the tree, but the minute you're in a crouched position an infected walks right by you. You stay still, letting it pass. Thinking you're in the clear, you look back at it only to find it staring at you and now you do stop breathing. It's head tilts, observing, but doesn't move. After what feels like years, it turns back around and continues on it's way.

Releasing a deep breath, you make your way up the tree slowly. Thankfully the branches get stronger the higher you go, and you're more confident the infected won't hear you climb faster.

"Y/n? What the fuck?" You nearly fall off your branch at the sound of Han's voice. "What are you doing out here?"

Securing yourself on the same thick branch he sits on, you look at him with wide eyes. "I could ask you the same thing!"

You shift around, now straddling the branch.

"I had to take a bathroom break, is that so bad?" He huffs.

"Yeah, it is. At least, when you don't tell anyone or take anyone with you and make everyone worried because a giant horde of zombies came out of nowhere!" You whisper shout at him, furious. "Chan was gonna come out here looking for you."

"Why didn't he?" Han's eyebrows furrow.

"Didn't think it was worth the trip," You frown when he gives you a dejected look. "Kidding. I volunteered since he's too important to the group."

"Again with the self-sacrificial shit." He rolls his eyes. "I can tell you now the horde is starting to thin. I'm not seeing nearly as many as I did running up this tree like a squirrel."

You snort. "You know, you kinda look like a squirrel."

"Felix says the same thing," Han shrugs. "We should be able to sneak back soonish."

You remember the cloth hanging from a lower branch. "Did you get bitten?"

"No," He shakes his head. "Just a scratch."

Lifting his leg over the branch, you can see the rip in the thigh of his cargo pants and the cut underneath.

"It looks worse than it is."

"Doesn't look bad to me." You lean back against the trunk as he swings his leg back over, taking the same straddling position as you. "Just a scratch really."

"Okay Miss Leg-That-Got-Crushed." He rolls his eyes again, and you seriously consider pushing him off your shared branch.

Looking down, you can barely see the ground below and wonder how Han can be so sure the zombies are leaving the area so soon. It's been what, an hour? Taking a chance, hoping he's not wrong, you begin your descent. You're careful and slow as you go down, teeth grinding together when a boot makes contact with your fingers at one point. You use your other hand to punch Han's ankle until his foot finally moves.

Once you hit the ground, you're immediately on your belly again and taking in your surroundings. Han is next to you in the same position, but after a few minutes you get up into a crouch, no sight of infected in your vision.

"Huh," You whisper. "Where'd they all go?"

Your question is answered as soon as you break through the trees. There's a smaller crowd of infected fighting their way into the house, clawing at the back doors with fervor. You stop walking, grabbing Han's arm as he readies his gun.

"No, stop it." You examine the group. "Gunshots will alert others in the area if they haven't already. Take this." You hand him a knife. "We need to be smart about this or neither of us will live to see the sunrise."

Taking your knife in his hand, he nods and follows your lead as you circle around to the back of the group and whistle once, twice, until you've got the attention of a few in the back. The night gives you the advantage of misleading them, whistling the few that notice you away. They stumble down the steps of the porch, hands clawing the air in search of you. You whistle again. Two break off from the group, about five, and you signal to Han to go left. You watch him sneak up from the back, and you do the same to the one on the right. Quick and quiet, you take them out with a knife to the back of the neck.

The bodies fall silently, using your own body to help bring them down. The other three are nearing the tree line, which you could leave them to wander away, but you know they'll just come back if you mess this up. With a knife in each hand, you get close enough to throw them expertly into the skulls of the two closest to you. You're about to take out the last one, but something flies past your head, nailing it in the middle of the forehead, body falling limp. You look back to see Han bringing down a slingshot with a smirk on his face.

You retrieve your knives from the fallen bodies and rejoin Han, whistling again. This time, more detach from the others, a group of about eight.

"Shit," Han whispers beside you. "That's... a lot at once."

"I have three knives to throw and another I can keep on me, how much ammo do you have?"

He pats a small pouch tied to a belt loop. "Enough. I refilled this thing before we left and have only used it once."

You nod and wait until the group has broken up, one straying away from the groups of three and four. "Which group do you want?"

"Four."

"You only want four to prove something," You say, eyeing him. "Don't lose something instead."

Before he can respond, you're off to where the group of three has wandered to the left side of the house. Three knives, three chances. The first is a success, the second landing too low into the back and you curse yourself, throwing the last into its skull as it turns around. The third spots you, having gotten a little too close for the night to cover you. A low growl leaves its mouth and it stalks toward you.

"Now or never," You say to yourself, ready to dodge an attack.

Something grabs you from behind; the straggler. How do you keep getting yourself in these situations? Good fucking job.

Hooking a leg behind the straggler, you're able to send the two of you backward, hitting the ground hard enough that it lets go of you. Sharp nails pierce your skin as you roll away, drawing blood when you rip your arm out of its hold. Dirt comes up as it digs its hands into the earth, crawling toward you. With a hard kick to the head, it stops moving long enough for you to have time to stick a knife under its chin and through the mouth, blood pouring down your hand. You can hear the other coming for you, standing up with a death grip on your knife. It makes a move to grab you, but you successfully dodge, landing a slash to its arm. Dark blood seeps through the fabric of the flannel it wears, the arm rendered useless from the depth of your attack.

"C'mon Y/n, just one more." You run at it, jumping on its back and yanking the head back by the hair, slashing its neck all in one swift movement.

When you get off the body, you see Han moving toward the porch steps and your eyes go wide. Is he seriously going to take the rest on himself? There are about six left and you can see the four already did some damage, red streaks running down the side of his face from his hairline, and the slight limp worse.

"Dammit, Han."

It doesn't take much for the infected to notice Han when he first steps up, the wood underneath breaking under his weight with a loud crunch. With the sun starting to rise, they spot him almost immediately. Why isn't he moving? Then you notice- his foot is stuck. Oh, you are so going to tease him for this later. That is, if there is a later.

Jumping over the edge of the porch fence, you whistle again and gain the attention of three of the infected, the other three descending on Han. Dodging left and right, scratches here and there, you get to the top of the steps where the infected are almost on him. He has his slingshot out, but slips backward, still trying to free his foot, and lands on his back, weapon flying out of his grip. Your knife pierces the back of the closest one's neck, yanking the body back so it doesn't fall and knock the others onto the man you're trying to save.

"Look, I'm saving your life for once!" You shout over the infecteds gargling and crying.

"Shut it!" is the only response you get.

The next one slips down a step, sending the one closest to Han directly on top of him. It's about to take a bite, but Han is quicker, grabbing its head, and snapping its neck. You're about to send your knife through the hundredth skull of the night, but a force knocks you into the fence. You almost forgot about the others. As you hit the wood, your breath is knocked out of you, and your knife, out of your hand.

The infected that pushed you cages you against the fence and you think back to the bridge. If you try and pull the same stunt, at least you won't fall as far. But this one seems to be smarter, faster, not taking the time to scream at you, but instead dives into your neck. There's barely any time to process, sticking your arm in between your bodies right before contact. Saliva drips onto your skin, running down your shirt. It pushes forward, desperate for a bite of sweet flesh.

"Han!" You shout; you need to know he'd at least make it out.

"Right here!" His voice is oddly close. "Hold on just a bit longer!"

This is it, you think as its mouth gets closer and closer to your neck, I'm gonna die. In front of Han Jisung.

Fighting back tears, your arm shakes under the weight of its strength, begging you to give up. In this world, it's inevitable, no? Why not let it take you out sooner than later?

"By the way," Han grabs the infected from behind. "You're not allowed to die."

He makes eye contact with you as he snaps its neck, your chest heaving. You stare at him with wide eyes, taking in the amount of blood on his body, not that you look any better. The way he looks at you, his own chest rising and falling in the same quick manner, makes you squirm.

A door slides away, and Chan steps out of the house. You don't have to look at him to know he's angry, pushing Han by the chest to look at him.

"Where were you? Explain yourself, now."

"Nature called at a bad time?" Han tries to joke, but his half-smile falters under Chan's gaze. "I'm sorry, I really didn't think I'd be out so long."

"God, at least tell someone where you're going next time!" Chan brings him into a crushing hug. "We thought you were dead."

"Me? Dead?" He breaks the hug, face tinged red. Although, that could honestly just be more blood. No, it's definitely a blush. Hard to tell. "Please."

Chan finally looks at you, jaw clenching at your state. You must look a lot worse than you feel with a stare like that. What you don't expect is Chan to approach you, to give you the same tight hug as he did Han. You don't hug back at first, too stunned by the sudden physical contact, but as he starts to pull back, your arms wrap around his back.

"You smell bad."

"We all smell bad," You laugh.

You hold on longer than you mean to, not realizing just how much you miss physical affection. Thinking back to sharing beds with Yeji and Yuna, teasing Minho and him holding you at night to keep you warm before you got to the QZ; it's hard to stay together in front of Chan, and you think that's why he lets you be the one to break the hug. Now you have Hyunjin, but it isn't the same.

"I needed that," You say low, looking down at your feet.

"C'mon," He puts a hand on your shoulder, leading you to the door. "Let's get back inside. Sun's almost up, gotta head out soon."

Giving him a tight smile, you head to the small bedroom to grab your bag where you left it on the bed. As you turn to leave the room, you spot the stuffed monkey hanging half off the bed. Should you be taking unnecessary items with you? No. But will you be shoving this monkey into your bag for future times of comfort? Absolutely.

Everyone is already gathered outside by the time you get there, securing weapons, tightening bag straps, whatever they need to do before officially leaving. The sun isn't quite up yet, leaving a chill in the air and making you shiver, wrapping your jacket around you better. Your arm stings where the fabric rubs against where the infected scratched; you should probably put a bandage on that.

"How's your leg?" You walk up to where Han is sitting on the ground, Felix dressing the wound at his hairline with Jeongin behind him.

"Better now that these two did something about it." He winces as Felix puts alcohol on the open cut, cleaning the blood running down Han's face while he's at it. "How's your arm?"

"Your arm?" Jeongin quirks an eyebrow at you.

"Right, about that." You put your bag by your feet and take off the right arm of your jacket revealing the dried blood underneath. "Got scratched during everything last night and almost forgot about it until now. I saw you guys with the medical supplies and thought I'd grab a bandage."

Jeongin grabs your upper arm gently, examining the three scratch marks. "Y/n these are pretty deep, sit down and I'll sew you up."

"Are they?" Sitting down, you take another look and see fresh blood trickling down the side of your arm. "Oh shit, I guess they are- ah."

It stings when Jeongin uses the same alcohol Felix used for Han on your arm, biting your lip and eyes squeezed shut. The pinprick of a needle is felt soon after and you fist the end of your jacket with your free hand to avoid digging your nails into your skin. Someone is rubbing at your back, but you still can't open your eyes to see who it is.

"You're doing good," you recognize Hyunjin's voice in your ear. "Almost there. That's it."

When there's a pat on your arm, you open your eyes and your fist unclenches. Where there used to be an angry, red wound, is now a white wrapping with a tinge of blood seeping through in the middle. Although your arm is still sore, you ignore it, putting your jacket back on and standing with Hyunjin's help, not that you need it.

"Ready to go?" Chan asks loud enough for everyone to hear.

You're about to follow him down the driveway when you remember something fairly important.

"I forgot something," You blurt. "I'll be quick so you can keep walking."

Chan nods. You jog back around the house, seeing the bodies of the infected scattered across the yard in the oncoming daylight. Making your way to the ones on the left side of the house, you notice something as you get closer; a nametag is pinned to one's shirt reading Hanni, one that you killed last night. A cold feeling runs down your body as you take in its- her- apron, the name long rubbed off the chest. Her nails are painted a chipped baby pink, a silver band on her left ring finger.

Suddenly, you feel ill. The world is moving although you are still and nausea hits you in intense waves as you come to a realization, something you should have had in mind before. These things you fight were once real people with real lives and real families, not creatures who spawned one day with evil intent. No, they all had to turn into this, and you feel so sick. With a shaky hand, you grip under her chin and pull you knife out, sheathing it at your thigh. As dark blood trickles out of the hole you made, you hunch over at her side and heave.

"Why are you taking so damn long- oh shit, are you okay?"

"Why do you keep seeing me at my most embarrassing moments?" You wipe your mouth, avoiding his eyes.

"To keep you on your toes," Han says, crouching next to you. "Seriously, are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

"You literally just threw up."

"I'm fine," You insist.

"Vomit, anger, first thing in the morning," Han strokes his chin, pretending to think hard. "Hyunjin didn't...?"

"Oh, what the fuck is wrong with you?" You smack him in the shoulder, but barely contain a laugh. "No, it's just... kind of hit me that they were like us once. Her name's Hanni, like in the bedroom. Do you think she was visiting home?"

"Try not to think about it, it makes them easier to kill." Han stands up and sticks a hand out; you take it. "Not that it's easy."

You retrieve your other knives quicker, not stopping to look at the man attached to one. When you rejoin the group at the end of the driveway, Chan gives you a funny look. It's like he can sense when something's wrong, and you hope he can't read minds.

Like that, you're on the road again. You notice neither Han nor Jeongin are limping anymore, and that Chan has a new wrapping on his left forearm. Chaeryeong is wearing her hair up, revealing a tattoo you hadn't noticed before of a lightning bolt, the rest hidden underneath her collar. The sunrise has popped over the horizon and into your eyes, but you can't help but notice how the golden rays bring out the freckles on Felix's face or the glow of Hyunjin's skin. Seungmin walks beside you, stoic as ever, but when Jeongin says something to him quietly, you catch a glimpse of his wide smile and can't contain your own.

These are real people, your people, whether you feel it completely or not yet. They have their histories, their lives, their secrets and desires and fears and loves. And so do you, and so do the people lying dead in a backyard kilometers behind you now. Right now, you hold onto the view of the people around you, and you hope that will be enough in the end.

---

notes ▪︎ how are we feeling so far? these people rlly can't catch a break, huh...... lol. it only gets worse from here, so, yk. :33

─── taglist : @chaeryred @toplinelix @channie-143 @staysinbloom @manuosorioh @hanjisunglover @xxstrayland @puppyminnnie @hanjsquokka @kpopsstuffs @ot8girlfie @quokkabite @linoslawayslinos @reapers-lover @hyunjinslittlestar @kiki0113 @nishiriks @nxtt2-u

#⋆₊‧⁺˖⋆˚.⋆ ͙͘͡★ LOOK UP TO THE STARS #skz #stray kids #han jisung x reader #han jisung x fem reader #han jisung #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #zombie au #zombie apocalypse au #skz zombie au #han jisung fanfic #skz fanfic #stray kids fanfic #skz series #han jisung series

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le-clair-de-lune · 3 months ago

Text

for the lovely anon from this request: !Jealous Edmund Pevensie but shes a queen of Narnia too and they're "enemies."

hope you like it!! ended up longer than expected!! Since there was no specific time you wanted, I just based it during 'Prince Caspian'

You awoke to a still atmosphere, only the soft breaths of your friends to signify life. You hated it. You missed the life that once surrounded this place. The whispering of the trees as they danced, the laughs that echoed through the forests, the community that once made Narnia no longer existed.

Guilt washed over you as you thought of your friends, your people, you had abandoned them. And now you return a thousand years later, not as the mighty Kings and Queens they told tales of, but as helpless teenagers.

After you had left the first time, all you had longed for was to return. Now? you feel out of place, as if you are of no use.

Returning from your thoughts, you stretched your arms out with a groan. Sleeping on the forest floor was definitely not easy on your back. You rubbed softly at your eyes before they widened, eyeing the empty space Peter had once occupied.

Worried thoughts filled your head as you ran towards his makeshift bed, searching for any signs of what could have happened before reaching for the person closest to you. Who just happened to be Edmund.

"Wake up!" Edmund groaned at your vigorous shaking slapping at your hands "Get UP"

His eyes opened to see your panicked face. "Get the hell off of me" he scoffed shoving you causing you to fall back.

Normally you would have fought him for this, but you had other things on your mind. "He's gone" you exclaim pointing to where his brother should have been.

This caught attention, quickly rising grabbing his sword. As you moved to get up, Lucy and Susan had began to get up at the ruckus. All four of your froze when you heard the sound of clashing metal through the trees.

Edmund grabbed you by the wrist, pulling you up, both of you frozen in place when your chests brushed against each other. Your eyes widen at the closeness before shoving him with a scoff. "Let's go"

Following your 'Dear little friend', as Lucy so affectionately called him, you were lead to the scene. Peter battling a boy that seemed to be about your age, a handsome boy at that.

"Peter" Susan shrieked, gaining there attention.

----

The boy, Caspian, seemed to have taken a liking to Susan based on the looks they shared. But you said nothing of it whilst walking to where the army Caspian had gathered were.

Once Peter stopped to Caspian you immediately pulled him into a hug before slapping him upside the head. "You arse!" you exclaim, as he rubbed his head "I thought something happened to you"

He smiled sheepishly before apologizing, only to stop mid sentence when his brother roughly pushed past you.

"What the hell, Edmund" you gasped

The boy turned towards you, walking backwards as you approached him. "You were in the way" he shrugged

"You were in the way" you mimicked sticking out your tongue "Piss off"

As you both bickered, with shoves and eye rolls, which became more aggressive with each passing moment, Caspian turned to the others. "Are they always like this?" he whispered worried.

The siblings rolled their eyes, before nodding.

----

You were a family friend of the Pevensies. Your mothers had become friends due to you and Edmund being in the same class.

During the war, both your parents had been deployed. Your mother a nurse, and your father on the front lines. With no other close relatives you were taken in by the Pevensies. Much to Edmunds dismay.

You never got along with the boy. You both always had different views and opinions. That along both of yours competitive nature, did not mix well. You always ended in an argument.

The arguments got worse over time, to the point you couldn't stand being near each other.

The only time it had simmered down was during you life in Narnia, in fact you had both found that, more than once, you found pleasure in each others company.

Then you returned to your world. At it went back to the way it was.

----

"Oh shut it, you imbecile" you rolled your eyes having enough of Edmund's antics, walking towards Peter.

You had made it to the tomb.

"Oh yeah, go back to Peter" he let out, a look you hadn't seen before in his eyes. "Love Peter, don't ya?"

"Wha-"

"Peter's best friend, care about him so much" his voice growing louder.

"Why are yo-"

"Why don't you just go marry him?" he seethed

Your eyes widened at his words. "What are you talking about?"

He scoffed walking towards you "Oh please" he rolled his eyes "I thought something happened to you" he pouted mimicking you "I was soooo worried. I love you Peter. You mean so much to me. Why don't you just shag alre-"

You hand collided against his cheek. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

His eyes caught your glossy ones. "I-"

You walked away, not wanting to any more from him.

----

You heard footsteps behind you, whipping around prepared to shoo off Edmund. Only your eyes met those of the young prince instead.

"Are you alright you majesty?"

You let out a soft laugh, "You don't have to call me that"

He sighed clearly glad at your kindness.

"Would you like to join me?" you asked moving over.

You both sat in a comfortable silence. "I grew up hearing stories of you" He shared with a chuckle. "Stories of your travels, the way you took down the White Witch, do you know what each story mentioned?"

"Why not?" you shrug, no harm in hearing some stories.

"The bond you all had, the love you all had for each other, and" he paused looking at you "The love you and Edmund held for each other"

"W-what?" you sputtered "No" you shook your head "We can't stand eachother, we- we hate eachother"

"Well" Caspian smiled amused "People who 'hate' each other, don't look at each other the way you do."

You stayed quiet, looking over all the interactions you had with Edmund. The way you felt about him. Perhaps Caspian was right.

"The way we look at each other?" you questioned

Caspian nodded.

"The same look you and Susan share?" you cheekily smiled

Caspian grew pink but stayed silent. He was luckily saved by a cough behind you.

Edmund.

"I should go review the plan" Caspian left with a nod.

The room grew silent once more as you turned away from Edmund.

"I'm sorry" he sighed. "I don't know what I was thinking, I just-"

"You were just... jealous?" you cut him off

His eyes widened before he made his way in front of you. "Perhaps"

Your head shot up, locking eyes with him.

"Really?"

"Mhmm, I didn't realize it at first but" he kneeled in front of you "But I care for more deeply than I thought." he took a deep breath before letting out a quiet "I love you"

When he did not hear your voice, he turned away prepared to be turned down.

Your hand reached for his cheek, forcing him to look at you. "I love you too" you let out before meeting his lips.

The kiss was passionate, all the years of pent up emotions released in a single moment.

You were the one to pull away, resting your forehead against his.

"All the years of arguing, and we could have been doing this instead" he smirked.

"Shut up, Ed" you shoved him softly.

#edmund pevensie x reader #edmund pevensie #narnia #chronicles of narnia #prince caspian #peter pevensie

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jelzorz · 3 months ago

Note

For the ficlet requests, Rayllum, pre-6x07 opening, what they might've been talking or thinking about before the episode opens with the kiss

190.

They don't spend a lot of time talking.

Admittedly, there isn't much to say: it's all kind of there and laid bare the moment Callum kisses her again and afterwards, words don't feel like enough. They kiss, and kiss some more, soft lips and gentle hands and trembling breaths on goosepimpled skin. The hours pass, as slippery and smooth as star-silk, and then the dawn breaks and Rayla wakes with the softest light in her eyes and her head upon Callum's chest.

"Hi," he whispers.

Rayla giggles. "Hi," she murmurs. "Not a dream then."

"If it is, I'm never waking up," chuckles Callum, pressing a kiss to the space between her horns. "Look." He points a finger to the stained glass, coloured light spilling across the desk by the window.

"It's beautiful," says Rayla.

"Yeah." Callum smiles. "I've never seen the sunrise from so high. Wanna go watch it?"

"Mm. Later." Rayla tilts hers her head up to face him and presses a kiss against the corner of his mouth. "Kind of want to stay here a bit longer. Is that okay?"

"More than okay," he says, his fingers tracing nonsense patterns over her skin. She shivers pleasantly at the sensation and snuggles further into his warmth. "I really missed you," he murmurs. "All of you."

"I missed you too," whispers Rayla. "That whole time I was away, and even when I came back... All I ever thought about was you."

"There wasn't... anybody else?"

She shakes her head. "How could there have been? I saw you in everything, and it was bad enough that I..." She squeezes her eyes shut and takes a breath.

"Oh, no, I—" Callum grimaces awkwardly then, and when Rayla glances up at him, his cheeks are red and his eyes are cast bashfully towards the floor. "I just... last night was—I've never done... any of that before."

"Oh."

"Yeah.".

There's a pause. Then Callum laughs, and because he laughs, Rayla laughs, the tension broken, all the guilt and regret and complexity gone again like it was never there at all. They haven't really spoken about all of that either, but it doesn't matter. Not really. What matters is that they are here and together, and there's nothing about it that really needs to be said. Rayla shifts and kisses him deeply anyway, another apology, another assurance, another promise on her lips.

"It was my first time too," she admits shyly.

"Oh."

"Yeah."

Another pause. Another breath. Then they're both giggling again, giddy as lovers should be, at peace in each other's arms. Rayla sighs, relishing his warmth, his touch, his heartbeat beneath her cheek, and smiles. "Was it what you wanted?"

Callum grins into her hair. "All I ever wanted was you. Even if we hadn't... you know. It wouldn't have mattered. I'm just glad we're here. Together."

"Yeah." Rayla breathes in, the air crisp and clean and full in her lungs, the ache between them gone and replaced with warmth. "I love you," she tells him, because what else is there to say? It's so simple and so true, even if the words don't feel big enough to encompass it.

Callum's chest rises. His heart misses a beat. He lets out a breath. "I love you too," he says, and Rayla knows that it's the same for him, the words too small for the strength they carry.

The sun rises higher. The quiet settles over them once more. There are no more words.

There don't have to be.

#rayllum #in anticipation #shhhh the kids are cuddling #are you telling me they Didnt bang at the starscraper? *snorts* please #not me having to rewire my brain for this after all the angst ficlets

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thicctails · 3 months ago

Text

Hidden Saplings | Under The Falls AU

A lil ficlet of Stan discovering the twins after the death of their dad, Sherman Pines. Tw: Minor character death, unintentional child abandonment, vomiting

It was early September when Stanley got the letter.

He'd just gotten done helping Rico with some "friendly negotiations" and had pushed open the door of the run down motel he'd been staying at, intent on jumping into the shower and then passing out for however long his body allowed him to, when he noticed an envelope resting on the dingy carpet.

Ignoring the way his bruised knuckles ached, Stanley scooped the envelope up and squinted at it, trying to make out the writing in the dim evening light. His brows raised when he saw his mother's frilly, flowing handwriting printed on the face of the envelope, and he quickly produced a small knife from his pocket, slicing it open as he made his way over to his bed.

He hadn't spoken to his mother in... God, six, seven months? He always feared that it would be his father who picked up the phone, so although his gambles had paid off so far, he wasn't about to tempt fate. He wondered what was so important that she would go to the effort of writing to him.

Sliding the letter out, Stanley set the knife and envelope aside before rubbing the grit out of his eyes and glancing down at the paper.

"My dearest Stanley,

I'm not entirely sure how to write to you about this, but I know that I must somehow find the words.

Your father and I were visited by the police the other day. They told us that Sherman's home had been broken into by a violent criminal while he and his wife were sleeping."

"I don't know how to-

They're gone, Stanley. Someone found out our secret and murdered them. My little angel is gone because someone wanted to take his scales or have some kind of sick trophy. Thankfully, the magic is still working to trick everyone, so everyone believes that Shermie was just a Halloween enthusiast.

Words cannot describe how I'm feeling, and I'm so sorry that you have to find out this way.

I know you didn't get to know Sherman very well, since he came home so little, but I have a favor to ask of you. The funeral is being delayed while the investigation finishes, but the police are allowing us to visit the house to retrieve some personal items and photos. I'd like you to go to Sherman's house and pick out a few photos for the funeral and send them to me. I know it's far for you, but your father and I have to organize the funeral, and your brother hasn't been answering my calls.

I've put Shermie's address below. I'm so sorry, my little free spirit. I know you probably won't be able to come to the funeral. I know you want to, and that you loved your brother. I miss you, I love you, and again, I'm sorry I had to write to you about this.

-Ma"

Stanley dropped the letter, eyes still locked on the spot where it had been. It felt as though time had stopped, and he wasn't sure if he was going to throw up or pass out.

'Throwing up it is.' he thought numbly as nausea bubbled up in his gut. Stanley shot up and staggered into the bathroom, just barely managing to grip the seat of the toilet as his dinner came rushing back up his throat. Stomach acid and cheap liquor burned like fire as he heaved into the toilet, wincing and hacking.

The contents of the letter jostled around like a jar of shaken hornets, and forming a cohesive thought seem to be as difficult as keeping hold of sand. Once his stomach stopped rejecting everything, Stanley wiped ah his mouth and shakily pushed himself up. Turning, he reached for the shower taps and set them both to full strength. Shucking off his grimy clothes, Stanley all but threw himself into the water as his glamour slipped.

A long, powerful red tail bashed painfully against the filthy shower wall, his tailfin curling to accommodate the lack of space. His earfins lay flat against his head as Stanley slumped down, letting the lukewarm water spray onto him. His gills fluttered, relieved that he was finally allowing them to be out. Carding his claws through his greasy hair, Stanley let the shower water soothe his aching body as he tried to come to terms with what he'd just learned.

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Stanley hadn't expected to find himself standing outside his older brother's house in the early hours of the morning under these circumstances.

Well, to be honest, he hadn't ever pictured himself standing outside Sherman's house at all. The two of them had never been close, and Stanley had only ever seen him a few times throughout his life. Shermie had been in the war, and he'd come back different, more distant and reserved, but even before then he'd never been around much. He and Pa just... never seemed to get along. The last time Stanley had seen him was at at his wedding years ago.

'Well, at least it wasn't just me he didn't like.' Stanley thought, before taking a deep breath and turning the door handle.

Shermie's house was almost picturesque. It was a little townhouse, light yellow in color with white shutters and a matching white picket fence. A garden was growing well in the front yard, and Stanley could see a few little decorative animals sprinkled here and there. It was soft and cutesy; the exact kind of place where no one thought anything bad could ever happen.

Ironically, places like that often ended up being the backdrop of the most horrific crimes possible.

The interior of the house was pleasant enough to look at, but there was a strange air of wrongness that put Stanley on edge. There was something inherently chilling standing in a place that had once held life, and now lay empty.

Brushing off the feeling, Stanley made his way inside, kicking off his boots and setting off down the hall. He looked over the various pictures on the wall; all featuring Shermie and his wife, Sally. Stanley hardly knew her, but she'd seemed like a nice gal when he met her at her and Sherms' wedding, and his brother clearly adored her, what with how he'd looked at her that day like she hung all the stars in the sky.

Seeing their smiling faces laid out before him just made the knife of misery and grief twist deeper. They were a young, happy couple. His brother was a good man, and he'd gotten outta Glass Shard with someone who loved him.

Neither of them had deserved this.

Turning away, he noticed a flight of stairs. Figuring that was a good place to start searching for more photos, Stanley made his way upstairs, peering down the hallway that met him at the top. There were two rooms; a bathroom, decorated with all manor of sea creature paraphernalia, and a bedroom.

Stanley pushed open the bedroom door, stepping onto the room's plush, carpeted floor. The room was as charming as the rest of the house, painted a light cream colour and decorated with lavender purple curtains, a king sized bed with a comforter that matched the curtains, a wooden dresser, and a closet in the corner.

'Guess I'll check the dresser first.' Stanley thought to himself, walking over to it. It looked worn, likely purchased second hand, and sported three drawers. Pulling open the top one, he found a bunch of women's clothes and a few socks. Not wanting to mess with Sally's things, he shut the drawer and moved onto the next one.

This drawer looked like it belonged to Sherman. Stanley gently moved some of his brother's clothes around, but there was nothing else to find. Sighing, Stanley shut the drawer and crouched down to open the final one.

This drawer was far more bare than the other two. There were no clothes inside, only a few small, soft blankets and, perplexingly, baby toys.

Stanley stared at the contents of the dresser drawer, confused. He plucked one of the toys from the drawer, a blue teddy bear, and sniffed at it. He could pick up the mildly familiar scent of Sherman, the chemical-laden scent of vanilla perfume, and...

Stanley sniffed the toy again, not sure if he was really smelling what he thought he was, or if it was just his imagination.

The scent of milk hit his nose, sweet and rich.

Stanley froze, alarms bells suddenly screaming in his head. He stood up as fast as he could, ignoring the swooping rush of dizziness that washed over him, and began to scent the air, praying that his brother was just holding onto the toys for a friend or something.

Now that he was looking for it, however, the milk scent was everywhere. It permeated the air in the same way that Shermie and Sally's scents still did, fading but noticable. There had been a pup here.

Shermie didn't have a pup.

...did he?

Stanley ran a hand through his hair, pulling at it slightly. Sure, Shermie and Pa didn't get along at all, but surely, surely he would have let him know if he had a fucking kid, for Ma's sake at least. Right?

Right?

'You wouldn't.' a quiet, vicious little voice hissed, 'You wouldn't say a damn thing, because that would mean facing Pa again. Who's to say Shermie just didn't want to deal with him yet?'

But if that was true, if Stanley wasn't just finally going crazy from loneliness...

...then where was the pup?

Panic began to build in Stanley's chest. Sherman would have hidden his pup, just in case they had an unexpected visitor, but that meant that no one knew that they were even here. How long had they been alone? How long had they gone without food?

Stanley sniffed at the air once again, trying to track down where the scent was strongest. He prowled around the room and stopped by the closet door. He yanked it open and ripped all the clothes off their hangers, ducking his head inside. It was dark, but that wasn't a problem to Stanley, and after a few moments he spotted something out of place. There was a small dip in the wall, like there was a door or panel.

Stanley reached for it, and his fingers found a handle. He pulled, and the wall opened, revealing a hidden doorway. He waisted no time, stepping into the short hallway and poking his head into the room that waited at the end.

The room was a small nursery. It was painted a pleasant blue color, and the room was illuminated by the gentle glow of a night light. There was a modified baby pool on the ground, the bottom padded with soft foam. The water, likely once pristine, looked muddied with filth.

And in that pool were two tiny, mewling pups.

A pair of twins, shivering and shaking, barely able to open their eyes, curling around each other for comfort. They had curly brown hair, just a few shades lighter than Stanley's own, and were coated in the pale white spots that all young pups had. One had pink scales and purple-pink fins, while the other had blue scales and orangey-red fins.

Stanley's body moved before his mind did. He crossed the room in record time and scooped the pups up into his arms, shaking as he did so. They were so, so light and so tiny, barely weighing anything as he picked them up. The pups twitched at the sudden sensation, chirping and crying loudly when they realized that someone had finally come back to them. They looked pale and washed out, their scales faded and their little bodies far too thin. Stanley wasn't an expert on pups, but his instincts were screaming at him that this was bad.

'Shit.' Stanley blanched as he realized that he wasn't just "not an expert" on pups, he had no idea how to care for them, 'Shit shit shit SHIT.'

Okay, he couldn't afford to breakdown right now, not while he was holding two pups that were probably starving and definitely needed to be cleaned up.

"Fuck. Okay, food first, then a bath, then... God, I don't know." Stanley murmered to himself, quickly leaving the nursery and heading back out into the bedroom. The bright lighting and open layout of the room made Stanley's hackles raise, and he had to fight the urge to find somewhere dark and defensible to hide himself and the two squirming bodies in his arms away.

The pups needed to eat. He could suffer through his instincts going haywire for a bit. He had long since learned to take his fear and shove it wayyyy down deep within himself.

Oh so carefully, Stanley made his way back down stairs and made a beeline for the kitchen. Shifting the twins so that he was holding both pups in one arm, he set about rummaging through the cupboards in search of formula. That was something pups ate, right? He didn't think that they could chew fish or anything like that yet.

God he hoped Sally didn't breastfeed.

'Fucking score.' Stanley mentally cheered as he spotted a can of the coveted formula tucked in behind various cans. He snatched it up and peered at the instructions for a moment before setting to work.

He awkwardly washed his hands, tore up the kitchen looking for bottles, and put all of his focus into not fucking up making the actual bottles. Once they were ready, he warmed them up a bit under the tap, tested the milk temperature, and eased himself onto Sherman's couch as he gave the twins the formula.

The pups all but snatched the bottles from him, their screeching quieting down into hungry growls as they suckled. Now that he wasn't worried that they would drop dead in his arms from starvation, Stanley took a minute to gather himself and actually look at the pups.

They were definitely twins. If you ignored the color of their scales, they looked the same. Close as they were now, Stanley could tell that the blue scaled twin was a little boy, while the pink scaled one was a little girl. Both of them had pudgy pup fat, but there was far less than there should have been.

"Sweet Moses, you poor things." Stanley croaked, nuzzling the pups, "I'm so sorry. I'm probably the worst person you coulda ended up with. God, I hope I haven't screwed things up somehow."

As he pulled back, he noticed something on the boy's forehead. Stanley brushed his brown locs aside and sucked in a breath.

A perfect recreation of the Big Dipper was on the kid's forehead, a striking birthmark that set him apart from his twin.

An anomaly.

"Heh, I guess it isn't just twins that runs in the family." he laughed wetly, "Man, Sixer would love you, kid."

Holy shit, Ford. He needed to call Ford. His twin needed to be caught up on what had happened.

Stanley felt his stomach flip at the thought, and he blew out a long gust of air. He had tried calling his brother a few times over the years, but he'd always been too chicken shit to actually do it.

Now, though, he couldn't afford to hang up again. He was going to have to man up and actually talk to his brother.

"Fuck." he cursed, slamming his head back against the couch. "I really don't wanna do that."

A quiet sound made him raise his head again, and he saw that the pups had finished their bottles and were now gnawing on the rubber nipples. Stanley sighed and got to his feet, gently pulling the bottles away. He didn't want to talk to Ford, but he had to. His twin deserved to know what had happened, and these pups deserved a guardian that wasn't a total fuck up.

But first, he was going to give these kids a bath. Bath first, dealing with deep personal problems later.

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libraryofgage · 11 months ago

Text

A Hop, a Skip, and a TARDIS Jump

Part of: Steve Deserves Good Parents, Actually Debbie and Fester Addams One | Two Rick and Evelyn O'Connell One | Two (on the way!) Harley Quinn One 10th Doctor and Rose One (you're here!) Scooby Gang (there are plans for this one lmao, so plz be patient with me orz)

I know it says 10Rose up there, but this series starts with 9Rose, because 9 is also special blorbo in my heart hfjdks Christopher Eccleston didn't have to put his whole chest into the role but he did and I love that for him

Anyway, have fun with this one! We're getting time travel shenanigans coming up (and angst, def some angst, but it'll end sweet I promise), and a little meme at the end

As always, if you see any typos, no you didn't :)

Satellite Five 200,000

Running into the woman was an accident created by the chaos of something changing on Satellite Five. Steve doesn't know what that is, exactly, but he can feel it in the air, in the way the humans around him have started rushing, in how the food stands have suddenly ground to a halt. And he comes to a halt with them, his hearts speeding up in his chest as the frenzy reminds him of another time, another planet, another chaotic scene that ended with him being launched across time and space while his home died.

When he finally gathers his wits enough to move, he turns right into a woman's leg, bumping his nose hard against her and falling to the ground with a startled cry. He holds his nose, the bridge smarting and causing his eyes to water as he looks up at a pretty young blonde woman who immediately crouches in front of him.

"Sorry about that. You all right?" she asks, her hands hovering in the air like she wants to check him for injuries but doesn't want to make him uncomfortable.

The funny thing is, Steve has seen this woman before. He saw her earlier in the day, getting into the elevator with a journalist and a man, and he assumed he'd never see her again. Nobody who got in the elevator came back. He's so overwhelmed by the shock of seeing her again that he almost misses the familiar aura around her, the lingering traces of golden space dust and passing time.

Almost.

He stares at her with wide eyes, his tears actually falling now, and then throws himself into her arms. "What took so long?!" he cries, clinging to her shirt like he'll be thrown across time and space one more time if he lets go.

"Woah, hey now, no need for crying," she says, utterly confused but gently smoothing down his hair anyway. "What's wrong?"

After taking a few moments to calm down, Steve starts to answer when he realizes something. The woman only has one heart. He can only hear one set of beats in her chest. He jerks away, his hands trembling as he stares at her. She's still covered in that familiar aura, practically swimming in it, but she's not like him.

It hurts. Steve can feel the bitter cold of disappointment replacing the hope that had started to grow between his hearts. He thought...he thought he'd get to be with someone like him again. Maybe not his original family---they're dead, long gone, and Steve is never getting them back---but a new one that wouldn't let him feel quite so alone anymore.

Maybe she was just injured. That would explain it well enough.

"Where....where's your second heart?" he asks, his voice small as he grips the hem of his shirt to steady himself. "Y-you...why do you--"

Before Steve can get the rest of the question, a man in a leather jacket, looking slightly annoyed as he checks his pockets, appears next to the woman. "Right then. C'mon, Rose, we got dead weight to drop off," he says, his tone hard.

The woman, Rose, looks up at him. "Hold on a minute, Doctor," she says, "we've got to help him find his parents first."

Steve opens his mouth, wanting to say that won't be possible, as he looks up at the man. Their eyes meet, and the words get stuck in his throat. If Rose carried lingering space dust and passing time, this man is made of it. Steve can see the gold around him, swirling and calling, singing in a way he'd forgotten about. Even the name is familiar---not that Steve knows this particular Time Lord, of course, but he knows the conventions and traditions.

"I'm afraid that'll be impossible, Rose," the Doctor says, his voice softer and full of disbelief as he crouches next to her on the ground.

"What? How do you know?"

The Doctor doesn't answer her. He just holds a hand out to Steve, waiting patiently. When Steve takes it, the world finally rights itself. He can feel the blood pumping through the Doctor's veins, fast and powerful in a way only two hearts can manage. He can practically taste time and space coating his tongue as he steps closer. When Steve places his hand on the left side of the man's chest, feeling the beating of one heart before sliding his hand over to feel the other, he cries even harder than before.

And the Doctor cries, too.

It's not a loud crying, but he pulls Steve into his arms and holds him with the same desperation and fear that he'll disappear if he loosens his grip that Steve felt when he hugged Rose. "I thought...I thought I was the only one left," the Doctor says, moving his hand to cradle the back of Steve's head.

"Doctor, what's going on here?" Rose asks.

Steve peeks out at her, and then he's lifted into the air, still held in the Doctor's arms. His jacket smells like the past and future, a soothing scent that gets Steve to relax like he hasn't in a long time. "Long story short," the Doctor says, his voice still rough from crying but recovering, "you somehow bumped into the only Time Lord child in existence." A few moments pass before he speaks again, the smile and awe clear in his voice as he says, "You're just fantastic, Rose. Fantastic."

Despite his best efforts, Steve can't keep his eyes open long enough to see how she reacts or what the Doctor does next. The exhaustion of fending for himself and pushing away the despair of losing everything sweeps over him. This could all be a dream, and the Doctor might be a figment of his imagination that disappears when he wakes up, but Steve lets himself dream for now.

--------

Hawkins, Indiana, 1971

"Okay, Steve, go ahead."

Steve glances up at his father, shifts his gaze to his mother, and then approaches the console. He reaches up and starts turning a dial, ignoring his mother's excited noise and his father's interested hum. Once he's turned it enough, he walks around the console and pulls a lever, flips a switch, and yanks another dial two notches to the right. Then, when he's sure his parents can't hear him, he leans in close and whispers, "Take me wherever you'd like me to be, TARDIS."

He feels something warm and happy surge under his fingers where he's holding the console. Not a second later, the familiar whooshing sound of the TARDIS fills the room, and Steve hang on for dear life as his father shouts, "Fantastic! Where do you think we'll land, Rose?"

"Somewhere child-friendly, hopefully," his mother replies, grabbing his father's arm and holding on for dear life.

Steve grins, his hearts beating fast and hard behind his ribs as the TARDIS slowly comes to a stop, its engine quieting to a gentle whirring as it parks. "Go on then," his father says, appearing behind Steve and nudging him to the doors. "See where you've brought us."

With his breath stuck in his throat, Steve slowly pulls the left door open. Sunlight streams into the TARDIS along with the delighted shrieks of other children and a warm wind that can only mean summer. Steve blinks, staring at the playground a few feet away.

"Oh," his father says, his tone duller than before, "seems boring."

This statement is followed by both the TARDIS making an offended noise and Steve's mother smacking his father in the chest. "Don't be rude! Boring is safe, which is good for Steve's first drive."

"Can...can I go play?" Steve asks, his voice soft as he feels a sudden longing sweeping through him. He hasn't played with people his age after leaving Gallifrey. In fact, he hasn't been around them. On Satellite Five, Steve didn't see other children. They were cared for on a different floor, and he never risked getting into the elevator.

Since leaving Satellite Five (since finding another Time Lord and basking in the TARDIS and crying together when Steve accidentally called the Doctor "Dad" and Rose "Mom"), Steve has been surrounded by Daleks and nanogenes and older humans and every alien under the sun, but he's never been around children.

The thought is exhilarating and terrifying and alluring all at once.

"Of course, Steve," his mother says, placing her hand on his head and brushing a few stray hairs from his face. "You go play, and we'll call you back in a few hours for some ice cream, yeah?"

Steve grins and nods eagerly, throwing a quick goodbye to his parents before running out of the TARDIS. He dashes across the street, coming to the edge of the playground before stopping. The grass turns into tiny rocks and pebbles beneath slides and swings and monkey bars and a merry-go-round. And kids. More kids than Steve really knows what to do with, which gives him an unfamiliar feeling of anxiety that makes him wipe his palms on his shirt.

"Hey, why are you just standing there?"

The question is asked by another boy Steve's age. His hair is a little frizzy and curls around his ears, and he's got band-aids covering his arms and stretching across the bridge of his nose. He's standing to Steve's left, holding a red rubber ball and ignoring the other kids around them.

"I've...never been here before," Steve says, meaning that he's never been in this situation.

The boy doesn't understand that, though. But when he says, "Oh, so you're new around here," Steve doesn't disagree. "Well, nice to meetcha. I'm Eddie."

He shifts to hold the ball against his chest with one arm and holds out his other hand. Taking it and shaking once, Steve introduces himself and asks, "Can we be friends?"

Eddie's eyes brighten, and he nods. "Yeah! Let's be bestest friends. Can I call you Stevie? Mom says you can give nicknames to friends."

"Sure! So, uh, what do we do now?"

Eddie pauses, looking at the playground with a slight frown. "We could play games," he says slowly.

"Oh! How about Weeping Angel?"

"What's that?"

Steve thinks for a moment. "Weeping Angels are these statues that move when you don't look at them. In the game, someone will face away, and the other person will start sneaking up on them. If the first person turns, the second has to freeze in place. If the first person sees them move, they lose. If the second person reaches the first and touches them, they win."

"It sounds like Rad Light, Green Light," Eddie says, tilting his head slightly. "But, sure! Let's play it."

Steve smiles brightly and follows Eddie to a clear patch of playground. "I'll be the Angel in this round," he offers, waiting for Eddie to agree before walking a few feet away. "Let me know when you're ready!"

Eddie turns around, still holding the rubber ball, and glances over his shoulder. He stares at Steve for a few seconds before looking away and saying, "Ready!"

As lightly as he can, Steve takes a few steps forward, doing his best to make no sounds like the Weeping Angels he's seen before. When he notices Eddie moving, he freezes, quickly placing his hands over his eyes but leaving enough room to peek between his fingers.

When Eddie turns, he's frozen in a classic Weeping Angel pose. Eddie studies him for a few seconds, eyes narrowed before slowly turning around again. Steve exhales softly, and the game continues.

Steve wins exactly three times, Eddie wins twice, and there's one round in which they both dissolve into laughter because of the position Steve freezes in, so they don't count it. When Eddie gets bored of playing, he introduces Steve to foursquare, which is why he has the rubber ball. When he gets bored of that he drags Steve around the playground, introducing him to each piece of equipment with pride.

By the time the sun has started to dip low on the horizon, Steve is sweaty and dirty and happier than he's ever felt as he hides under the slide with Eddie. They're pressed close together, sharing a popsicle Eddie's mother had given them, purple juice making their hands sticky.

"You're really cool, Stevie," Eddie suddenly says, his lips and tongue purple as he offers the last bit of popsicle to Steve.

After taking it and letting the cold ice melt on his tongue, Steve asks, "Hey, do bestest friends keep secrets that only they know?"

"Of course! Nothing is stronger than a bestest friend secret."

"But you gotta promise not to tell anyone. Not even your mom."

Eddie seems to realize this is serious now, and he straightens up a bit. "I won't," he promises, "cross my heart, hope to die, stick a needle in my eye."

That seems a bit extreme to Steve, but what does he know of human customs? He leans in close, his mouth almost pressing against Eddie's ear, and whispers, "I'm an alien."

He pulls away in time to see Eddie's disbelieving look. "What? You look human. No way you're an alien."

"I am!" Steve says. "How many hearts have you got?"

"One. Duh."

"I've got two."

Eddie snorts. "Yeah. Right. Nobody has two hearts."

"Here, you can feel them," Steve says before grabbing Eddie's hand and placing it over the left side of his chest. He waits a few seconds, making sure Eddie can feel that heart, before sliding his hand to the right side. He watches Eddie's face turn bright red, and Steve figures it's from excitement or shock at realizing Steve is, in fact, an alien.

Before Eddie can say anything, Steve hears his mother calling, "Steve! It's time to go!"

He pouts, letting go of Eddie's hand. "Aw, man," he mumbles, crawling out from beneath the slide. Eddie scrambles after him, his cheeks still flushed and his eyes wide. "I gotta go now, but I'll see you again soon, Eddie."

"Yeah, soon," Eddie mumbles, seeming dazed until he shakes his head. "Your, um, secret is safe with me, Stevie."

Steve blinks and flashes a blinding smile. "Of course it is," he says, "You're my bestest friend."

With that, he hugs Eddie and then runs to his mother, brimming with excitement at getting to tell her all about the park and Eddie.

------

If you'd like to be tagged for this series, let me know!

And, finally, a meme for your viewing pleasure:

#steddie #steddie fic #doctor who #doctor who crossover #steddie over time #that's the tag for this one bois #i'm very proud of the little pun there actually #steve harrington #eddie munson #ninth doctor #rose tyler #time lord steve harrington #ninerose #anyway thanks for reading i hope you enjoyed the meme hfdusjk

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misc-obeyme · 11 months ago

Text

You know the drill.

Spoilers for Lesson 40 below, including locked and hard lessons.

Just to clarify: when I say that it’s “the end” in my rantings, I am referring to season two, not the entire game. ☺️

Hmm.

I'm confused. And... underwhelmed? What even just happened?

I mean, we had lovely moments with the side characters and we got to kiss them all and of course I'm incredibly pleased I got to kiss Barbatos and Solomon, but aside from that we just... went back?

Most of the lesson was about the RAD founding ceremony. We say good bye to the side characters and they even address how we told Solomon his cooking was bad (more on this later).

But just as the ceremony is about to start, a dark rift opens in the sky. It's a rift in space and time. Barbatos straight up asks Solomon if he did it. Solomon says he didn't, but that he wasn't expecting it to show up so soon. (So who did create it? Nightbringer? And if so, doesn't this prove Solomon at the very least knows enough to know when Nightbringer is going to open a portal back through time??)

We miss the ceremony because we have to go through that rift if we wanna get back. The brothers come with us because we need their power. Just like when we summoned the white dragon, we call upon each brother for his power. Then Solomon adds his. Then there's a bright light and..

...roll credits.

Yeah. That's it. That's the end.

There's a locked lesson where Diavolo gives a speech at the ceremony.

And then the HARD lesson... is us returning to the House of Lamentation in our time. The brothers are all like oh hey MC good morning like nothing even happened. They say it's weird because it feels like it's been a long time since they've seen MC but that can't be right because it hasn't been that long at all.

AND THAT'S IT.

No Nightbringer. No further insight from Solomon or Barbatos. Not even sad angsty brothers who have been missing us.

It was like they didn't know we were gone.

So either we went back a little further in time or there was never a point where they decided as a group to send Solomon back to help us.

We didn't even get a Michael appearance!

THAT WAS VERY ANTICLIMACTIC.

I am confused because it wasn't bad, it was kinda cheesy, there were some sweet lines and like I mentioned previously I got to kiss my malewives but WHAT THE JUNK.

I'm not suffering, more like I'm just left hanging???

My one consolation is that we're back in our timeline now. So maybe NEXT SEASON we can FINALLY get some ANSWERS.

I really thought they couldn't drag it out any further and yet...

I didn't take a whole lot of screenshots this time because again, it was kinda just... underwhelming. Overall this lesson was just me going that's it?! And being baffled.

First I'd like to present you with these lovely Barbatos moments.

As sweet as this is, the man knows. Not that I ever thought anything else, but he's so subtle about it. I'm onto you, Barb.

My HEART. If I wasn't going back to another version of him, I would just be like nope staying by your side forever the end I don't care about anybody else.

But before all that, there was also this:

I'm glaring at you because you let Solomon into the kitchen.

I DIDN'T WANT TO.

OF COURSE I DIDN'T.

GOOD. SOMEONE ELSE CAN SUFFER WITH ME.

OHHhhhh Barb I love when you get all threatening and smile like that 💕

But seriously, then Barbatos and Luke help Solomon make a lunch that's actually delicious and we eat it with everybody and they're all amazed. I was like OKAY WELL I do feel a bit better about that whole fiasco now. But still, was it even necessary to begin with? No amount of sweet kitchen buffoonery with these guys is going to make me forget the pain.

At least we had a cute Solomon moment, too.

Yeah but I'm still wondering about the past version of you, Sol. I'm just saying, where is that guy?

I mean you don't have to look so sad about it.

Ah. Your jealousy is showing, Solomon. (I don't mind.)

Hard Lesson bits because I'm still just ????

YEAH BECAUSE YOU HAVEN'T.

YEAH IT'S BEEN TWO WHOLE SEASONS.

Once again, I am left with more questions than what I started with. Will MC tell the brothers what happened? Will we just never see the past brothers again? Will we return to the past in the next season? Will we ever see Nightbringer again, the being for whom this game was named?

At the very least, we still have Mephisto being himself and man I can't believe I ever disliked this guy.

THAT'S MY BOY.

I'm feeling extremely unsatisfied but it isn't like that's anything new.

I will say that it wasn't as bad as I expected. I was expecting them to do some really terrible things that made me freak out and scream and scare my cat. But no, I was mostly just ?? the whole time. And confusion is preferable to suffering in this case.

But I am also ANNOYED. We have waited long enough for the Nightbringer reveal, please give it to us now Solmare!!!

I fear we only have a short time before we are dragged further into this game that has truly become a hell of its own when season three is upon us... (I'm being deliberately melodramatic but still...)

#???#????#?????#obey me #obey me nightbringer #obey me nightbringer spoilers #obey me nightbringer lesson 40 #obey me solomon #obey me barbatos #misc lesson recap #misc rambles

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s3thwrit3sstuff · 1 year ago

Text

❝ Take my soul (need control) ❞

slashers dating slasher reader | erratic!slasher!male!reader | fluff, smut | graphic description of violence, brief mention of animal cruelty in Brahms H. section, mentions of nsfw things |

as a preface, (Y/N) is implied to be erratic and unhinged as a slasher. their s/o's are the only ones who can calm them.

Amanda Young (Saw) -

You didn't fit in her future.

At least, that's what Amanda's initials thoughts are when you two stared down each other from across the parking lot, panting as you held your weapons.

She's heard of you through the news. The infamous (slasher name), the monster that lurks in the shadows and savagely crushes anyone who had the misfortune of wounding up as their victim.

Your methods were unlike hers. Not calculated, not planned, not meticulous - completely erratic, like a hurricane.

But she needs the man that one of you has knocked out in your scuffle. While you? You just saw him walking past you while he was making his way to his car and decided he'd die tonight. She stiffens and reaches back for the gun she brings for emergencies as you straighten up but finds herself bewildered as you begin laughing maniacally.

"Have 'im, Ms Piggy" She sees your grip loosen on your weapon and her fingers uncurl from the handle of the gun. "Ya' clearly need 'im more than I do" and just like that, you're gone. The only thing she hears is her own breathing and her racing heartbeat.

Amanda is feverish about finding you. She reads everything she can and scours wannabe psychos and sociopaths' blogs dedicated to your crimes. (slasher name) becomes an obsession.

When you meet again, you find 'Miss Piggy' eyeing the interiors of your home. She's unsure of what she feels as she imagines you moving about the space but she smiles when you begin chuckling like a hyena and reach for the knife you had on you.

"I need your help, (Y/N)"

"Will it be fun?"

Amanda's smiling under her mask. She's seen your research of her work. The newspaper clippings, paint (or blood) of your theories on the wall (among other 'deranged' scribbles) you were familiar with her.

"Wouldn't have asked if it wasn't".

Fun was an understatement. You were a wildcard, someone that could cost her this entire game but the carnage you spread was so beautiful...she wasn't sure if any device or game she sets up could compare.

You two end up working with each other more and more. Your unpredictability makes the FBI tear their hairs out - you were, ironically, the balance she needed in her scales.

When you two confess to each other, you're soaked in someone else's blood. She approaches you from behind, watching your shoulders and chest rise and fall.

You lick the blood from your lips, your smile stretching over your cheeks looking almost uncomfortable.

Her eyes flick to your lips then up to your eyes.

"Come 'ere, Miss Piggy" she leans in and you meet her halfway.

Most would argue that you would be the worst guy to be in a relationship with.

They're wrong.

Amanda knows the ins and outs of your twisted heart because you bare it to her as it beats for her in your palm.

She doesn't take advantage of it. Tests it? Sure, just to feel more secure, but never to the point where you doubt her love for her.

Amanda thinks your ingenuity and creative mind is her favourite part of you (among other things).

You've jokingly told her she could split your skull open to get those ideas fresh - she giggles and you gather her in your arms.

Amanda leaves the window of your bathroom unlocked. Just for you. She knows you need to 'hunt' sometimes and doesn't discourage it (though she makes sure you know her targets so you don't end up killing them). When you crawl back home, you make sure to shower first before you shuffle back into bed.

She tends to your wounds, scolding you only if she knows you could've avoided it in the first place. "More fun that way, 'Manda" she huffs "So you'd leave me forever just for more fun?"

She knows you're pretty screwed up in that brain box of yours, she's not above manipulating you to bend to her whims but she only ever does it out of love, (Y/N)!

She's highly protective of you. She'll ensure your identity is safe if there are any loose ends during your 'hunts'.

She can't lose you. You can't lose her. Both of you are monsters. Both of you belong together - can't live without the other.

If a victim manages to get an upper hand on either of you God help them.

The second one of you is in danger, the other only sees red.

You've literally taken several bullets for Amanda.

She was so gentle with you that night. Her kisses silent apologies. Seeing her cry as she looks down at you makes you move to sit - despite the pain and her protests. Her breath hitched as your tongue slithers in, Amanda's lips warmed by yours.

"You're hurt, (Y/N)" "Don't care, need you"

"You're hurt because of me!" her yell makes you tilt your head "I should've been more careful!" she continues.

"I want you, Amanda" you whine, cupping her weeping face in your hands. "I'll want you even if you hurt me, even if it kills me. Don't say no to me, Piggy?"

The nickname wins her over.

By the way, she calls you Froggy or Kermit (Kermy too!). It's cute.

(She buys green and pink items because they remind her of the two of you and you've gifted her two hearts that you'd cut in half, coloured pink and green and sowed together. She placed the gift on the desk she works on, it's displayed in a dome glass case and she fights back a smile every time she lays eyes on it)

The satisfaction she gets when victims scream as they spot you in the same room as them. Just so fucking proud of her killing machine.

When you go overboard, if the emotions get too overwhelming for you and you only think of how to get rid of the pain - Amanda grips the nape of your neck and pushes you onto your knees.

You bow because it's her. You breathe because it's her.

"(slasher name)" Your eye twitches, gaze still floating around the room but she knows she has your attention.

"You all there, Kermy?"

"I'm right here, Piggy".

Brahms Heelshire (The Boy) -

Initially, you'd taken the babysitting job as a cover to lay low. Things were getting heated in (insert wherever you're from) and this secluded manor was perfect.

The sight of the doll didn't make you falter. Hey, you got a few screws loose yourself so you didn't judge the Heelshires for how they cope.

Brahms was intrigued by you from the second he laid his eyes on you. The way you instantly gathered the doll in your arms without an ounce of judgement makes butterflies flutter.

He is elated to know that there's a chance you won't freak out if you see him.

He quickly finds out you're not exactly the Average Joe.

You brought the rat traps inside, he inches closer to the hole in the wall when you suddenly froze. The rat squeaks furiously and your non-dominant hand idly reaches for the drawers. Brahms did not expect you to pull out a meat tenderizer.

There's a mix of emotions in the boy as he skitters to his room. He laid awake that night, a part of him wondering if you were just like him and the other feeling guilt at the excitement.

His parents tried their best to nurture him into a decent man. Even if it didn't work, their voices still linger in his head but when he sees the tender way you cradle the porcelain extension of himself the next morning? Your voice sickly sweet, lips pressing into the cold temple of the doll?

Brahms craves you.

Malcolm, poor, stupid, Malcolm.

Brahms wasn't the only one that wanted him gone. The only reason you reciprocated his advances was to fulfil a different type of lust.

(Malcolm wasn't your type anyways.)

Brahms's nails nearly break as he digs them in the wood of the walls, breath labouring as anger consumes him. Malcolm was on top of you, unworthy hands gripping at you like you were some common whore.

He's moved from behind the walls to the closet when you're on top of him. The grip of the 'missing' meat tenderizer was so tight his hand was trembling.

Malcolm yells in pain and Brahm pauses as he watches you laugh in pure delight as you dig your thumbs inside Malcolm's eye sockets.

You turn to him, smile still etched on your features and Brahms gulps as you bring your thumb to your mouth to suck the blood and gore clean.

"Cute mask"

The kitchen utensil drops with a comical 'THUD!' while you two stare at each other.

Your relationship falls into a steady, domestic, pace much quicker than both of you anticipated. How could they not? The secluded land was beautiful when the weather wasn't so dreary. Even if it was, the grand fireplaces were extremely nice to cosy up next to. It's hard NOT to fall deeper and deeper into each other when everything was so romantic.

Malcolm's death was covered up thanks to the wild animals on the land. Brahms watches from the window as you whistle, beckoning the scavengers as you spread a few of Malcolm's innards around.

You tell him everything about your kills. Effectively burying his parent's voice in his head as you sink him deeper and deeper into your hell.

"You're beautiful just like this, Brahmsy" he pants from beneath the mask and you place a kiss on those cold lips. "They won't understand like I do, we're meant to be like this so we can find each other" his pupils are so blown out as he stares up at you.

"You're my good boy, Brahms, forever and always. Okay?"

"Okay, (Y/N)". Your smile was sculpted by the king of hell himself and Brahm's eyes roll back as you move your hips.

Brahms feels vindicated and free. For once, guilt doesn't whisper accusingly in his shadow. Instead, there's you.

Your routines overlap his. Your hands pull him from the darkness. Your voice haunts him every second of every day.

The bodies pile up in the woods. The rats are scarce with the sudden spike of scavengers drawn to the Heelshire manor.

You love spoiling him with victims, love watching him release his creativity and curiosity. He's so good with his hands and all that raw strength? It's not an odd sight for you to make love in the showers after 'play time' was done.

He loves helping you freak the shit out of your victims, pretending to be the ghost in the walls and making them so paranoid they think they've gone crazy.

When they're dealt with, Brahms often makes snacks for the both of you.

Oh! He makes a mask for you. To show his love and for you to wear when you need it.

He doesn't like that you leave the manor. It causes BIG arguments. Vintage vases flying to the wall kind of arguments. But you were a bloodthirsty hound, you needed to stretch your legs.

He'll be sullen but he gets over it. This routine annoys the shit out of both of you though but over time, he learns you need it just as much as he needs his quiet times.

He welcomes you when you get home, lifting his mask to kiss you and you giggle as your hands slide up his wifebeater.

"Miss me, big boy?"

"Always" he pouts.

Corey Cunningham (Halloween Ends) -

Corey knew before you did.

You were just like him. The darkness spills from your eyes as you tell him how the front of your car got wrecked.

"A deer scared you?" he wipes his hands on the front of his uniform, turning to you as you nod and stroke the large dents and scratches on your hood. "Swerved into the woods, didn't hit a tree head-on - Thank God, right?" Corey nods.

He pretends not to see the splatter of blood and hoses down the hair and chunks of flesh from your tires.

Guessed you missed a spot, hm?

He's good at being undetected. People...people avoid him nowadays.

You don't have to ask around much to learn about the cute, outcasted, mechanic's past. You find it all a bit pathetic. These people were really that terrified of him over what sounded like an honest mistake?

Corey wonders why you've gone to Allen's family's abandoned house during his nightly routine of stalking you.

He watches you from the windows, knife in hand though with no real intent of using it...on you anyways. Blood had already stained the blade.

You pause at the sight of dried blood and gaze up the spiralling staircase. Much to his chagrin, you lay down and place your head right on the bloodstain.

Your laughter makes blood pool under the skin of his cheeks. Your hands splay out to your side and you're laughing so hard your sides hurt, Corey finds himself pressing a hand to the window and wishes he was right beside you.

The next day, Corey's parked right out of the supermarket just as you come out. He grins boyishly and you ask if he needs anything. He holds himself back from saying "you" and instead asks if you're free tonight.

You don't expect him to be so forward but you're intrigued. So you ask if he'll be the one to pick you up (considering your car is still in his garage) and Corey pretends to be interested as you write down your address as he imprints the sight of your semi-focused expression. He already knows where you live but you don't have to worry about that, (Y/N).

The night was perfect from the get-go. Your warmth pressed against his back as he drove the two of you to a bar that was further away than usual but was the only one he could go to without people whispering — you don't mind.

Then drinks got involved and suddenly you're dancing with him, some shitty pop song playing over shitty speakers but neither of you cared.

Then reality came crashing in. Someone had loudly — drunkenly — mentioned Corey's past. Everyone gives him looks and although he could care less he pretends to by pulling you out of the bar.

"Corey, wait" he's too drunk to drive and his hands are itching to feel blood so he pauses as you chuckle the command out. "Stay here, baby" The nickname makes his heart flutter and he nods as he leans against his bike. When you disappear back into the bar — probably left something, he thought — he curses and tries his hardest not to storm in and strangle the life out of that asshole who ruined his date and the closest bar he could go to without reproachful glares.

He contemplates the thought of moving away from Haddonfield with you when his phone rings. It's you. For a second, he thinks you're in trouble but when he answers you're breathless pants of glee tells him otherwise.

"Come to the back, Corey".

The sight that greets him is the asshole with a bleeding mouth and a broken nose. The burst veins in his eyes and the wooden plank that you held loosely in your arm paint a clear picture.

"Night's still young, baby" you muse as you make a faux swing that makes the man whimper from where he was sprawled on the ground. "I know you wanna" Your purr makes Corey shudder.

The Cheshire grin on your face is absolutely maniacal as Corey sheds his jacket and pulls out the pocket knife he kept in his back pocket.

The same one you'd felt against your thighs when you were riding his bike.

Haddonfield was lucky the two of you decided to spread your chaos elsewhere because the two of you were insatiable.

The fact that neither of you stayed in one city for too long also didn't help. You were basically doing an American-wide murder spree.

And Corey would not have it any other way.

You were just like him — wilder, sure, but you understood him in ways no one else had ever done.

"Fuck, baby" Corey has you on the bed of some engineer whose blood was currently being used as lube. The man's body was somewhere in the room but Corey barely gave a shit when you're looking down at him with that toothy grin that makes your eyes twinkle with bloodlust. "Mm, you feel so fuckin' good, Corey".

Somehow you two decide to settle down in a quiet town. Corey going under a different name as he works at a garage. Everybody around you thinks you guys are the sweetest couple — cooing at how young you are and sighing about young love.

They don't know that your weekend trips are spent with blood, guts, and sex. Two maniacs completely enamoured with one another.

"Baby, look" Corey eyes the silver band on your finger. Then the other one is on your palm as you extend it to him. You drop the chopped-off hand of the man the both of you had just killed and inched closer and closer.

"Pretty, hm?" he nods "Till death do us part" At that, he scoffs and pulls you in closer.

"Not even Death can keep us apart, (Y/N) (L/N)" he brushes the tip of your noses together and plants a bloody kiss but your giggle cuts it short.

"Don't you mean, (Y/N) Cunningham-(L/N)?" Corey's grin is nothing short of loving and he claims your lips again.

OG!Michael Myers (Halloween (1978 - 1982)) -

To be completely honest, the way you two met was a blur. Before you met Michael Myers your life had little to no meaning.

When he decided to break into your family home one night, he jump-starts everything. He had you pinned on the dining table, his mask already coated with the blood of your kin. Your feeble attempts at escaping his inhumanely strong grip leave you gasping for breath and you're sure that the building pressure in your head isn't a good sign.

But when you stare into Michael's eyes a sudden force tugs your lips apart into a bloody smile. Your laughter is nothing but strained gasps and squeaks and it makes Michael's grip falter enough for you to finally grasp the make-shift stake beside you (from the chair he'd thrown your way) and drive it into his shoulder.

Michael staggers and without missing a beat, you're lunging at him again. No fear, no hesitation, and frankly, no thoughts behind such a brash action.

The force of your body slamming into him throws his momentum off but he feels something in his chest suddenly beat as your shrill laughter fills his ears.

You, with your wild hair and wilder eyes...

Michael craved you.

He knocks you out.

Then, he watches you. From your recovery in the hospital to the 'safehouse' you were placed in. The detectives thought this could be their chance — to finally catch Michael Myers as he 'finishes you off'.

Michael knows you're done with your kill just from the shift in the air. He enters the safehouse and stares at the splatters of blood and bullet holes in the drywall. He follows the sounds of your laughter and finds you in the dining room in a familiar pose.

You have the detective pinned under you, fingers crushing his larynx as he weakly fights back against you. Michael waits politely, when you're done he moves to the back door and you wordlessly follow.

Eating rats was new but strangely enough the act of catching them was a great bonding activity. Your jokes about meeting the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles — and eating them — fly over Michael's head but his amused silence tells you he doesn't mind your babbles.

He learns fairly quickly that, unlike his silent, effortlessly, intimidating self, you're erratic, loud and pumped with energy when you're hunting.

He doesn't dislike it but it takes some getting used to.

You don't always go on hunts together but when you do he appreciates your gore-y creativity.

The Shape of Haddonfield now has Hellhound by his side — isn't that a cute nickname for yourself, (Y/N)?

While victims shit themselves at the sight of Michael, his stony demeanour is what makes him all the more Boogeyman-worthy. He feels inhuman. That both terrifies and comforts some — but you?

You're entirely too human. Your glee, your rambles as you stab your victims, you're laughter full of excitement.

"Mikey" he glances your way as your fingers stroke up the neck of his mask. Here you were, sprawled all over Michael Myer's lap like a goddamn kitten. You lean up and kiss his rubbery lips, he hums as your tongue licks his mask and pushes you back just enough to lift his mask above his nose.

"Thank you, Mikey" you chuckle, letting him taste the romantic spaghetti dinner you two had helped yourselves to after murdering the old couple.

Their home was isolated enough, that both of you could enjoy living above ground for a few days.

"You taste so good, Mikey" The grip on your waist makes that addictively sweet laughter bubble in your throat.

RZ!Michael Myers (Halloween (2007 - 2009))-

You were the only good thing in his god-forsaken life.

The mental institution had made a big mistake in housing two monsters — especially when those monsters were always so drawn towards each other.

No matter what punishments they inflicted on either of you for sharing glances. It did little to stop this undeniable, instinctual, need to be close to one another.

Initially, the doctors had thought Michael's curiosity was a good sign. A sign that he was showing interest in making friends. Even if you were less than ideal in terms of 'fixing' him considering your own streak of homicide (that landed you in this shithole in the first place) but they were desperate.

So, they allowed controlled meetings. Michael's stare terrified others but you seemed to thrive under his attention.

Guards had reached out to pull you back as you climbed the table and got right up in Michael's face but he is as still as a statue as you carefully brush his long locks of blonde hair back.

"There you are, pretty boy" and with those words and your eyes that reflect back his darkened soul right back at him — Michael is smitten.

When he escapes, he finds you.

When he enacts his revenge, you're the shadow that devours any sacrificial lambs that managed to stray from his grasp.

Oh, he's all yours.

Michael swears that if you're not near him the air feels thinner.

He relishes in the way you mercilessly slaughter anyone in your way — he doesn't ask why you kill but knows that whatever the answer he'll support his batshit insane boyfriend.

"Is this for me?" he nods, showing you the new mask he'd created. You smile warmly, sitting across from him as you carefully place the mask on your face.

"How do I look, pretty boy?"

He places his large hand on your thighs and begins tapping. You encourage him with careful strokes to his bicep.

.--. .-. . - - -.--

Your grin makes his heart flutter. "Thank you, baby" and you reward your darling lover with a kiss which makes him grunt at the mask that blocks him from properly kissing you.

Billy Loomis & Stu Macher (Scream (1996)) -

They had an inkling you were just like them.

Billy says it's the way your eyes become devoid of any light when you're angry. While Stu tells you it's the way you lick the blood from your split lip and smile as you lunge at the opposing team's captain.

(Y/N) (L/N), an athlete of their school.

Meanwhile, to his boyfriends, he's an absolutely merciless murderer.

Everyone sort of avoids you. Even your coach rarely gets in your face to yell at you the way he does at everyone else. It baffles people that Billy and Stu are your lovers.

For them though? It's the perfect match.

You're not Ghostface, however, (slasher name) is always spotted with Ghostface.

A maniac with brute strength that takes hits and stabs and even bullets without going down.

Those who did live to tell the tale of an encounter with (slasher name) and Ghostface mutter that hurting Ghostface? Was a big fucking mistake if (slasher name) is there to witness it.

You're the kind of guy to body slam someone out a second-storey window and just walk it off while the victim who cushioned your fall is wheezing their last breath.

Billy reprimands your unnecessary displays of brutality while Stu simply gushes about how cool it was. They both tend to your wounds, kissing and massaging anything that hurts.

Ghostface is equally as protective of you, make no mistake, even if they're not throwing a chair at a victim they will ensure you don't actually get yourself killed in your bloodlust.

Stu has pulled a gun and shot someone in the face when they threatened to do the same to you.

Billy rushes to the two of you upon hearing gunshots but groans in relief as he sees you making out with Stu mere inches away from the body.

"Hey! Earth to perverts! Time to scram!" Billy is pulled into the make-out session by you and he all but melts under your hold.

"Want you. Now" Stu laughs at your huffy tone but eagerly circles his hands around your waist while you pull Billy closer to your front.

Beauregard 'Bo' Sinclair (House of Wax) -

A new victim of Ambrose? That's what you are, right?

Wrong.

You'd been a solo traveller that coincidentally got grouped up with another group of travellers. You seemed normal enough, Bo thinks as he spots you making your way to his garage.

Cute and handsome, a darn shame you'd have to die but at least Vincent will immortalize your beauty.

He notices that you're not close with the others. When he asks, you explain your vehicles had broken down near each other so Lester rounded up all of you together.

You lean on the hood of the car he was clearly working on, jutting your hips and looking impressed. He shamelessly takes in the curve of your butt before putting on a charming Southern smile when you glance back at him.

"Good with your hands, hm?" Bo feels blood travel south but he just chuckles. The conversation is cut short by the others clearing their throats.

When he kills the group one by one, he immediately notices that you seem excited at the violence he spreads. You don't scream or yelp but you're helping him.

At first, he thinks you're just saving your ass from getting sliced down when you push someone in front of you. But while the others run, you're moaning as he's thrusting the blade repeatedly into the man's body.

He pants as you two make eye contact, gulping he pulls the blade out and offers it to you.

"Fuckin' finally" you coo, pressing a bloody kiss on his cheek before you slip to hunt the others down.

His brothers are definitely confused by his decision to let you stay as a real residence of Ambrose but after another group rolls in you prove your worth to them.

Between heated moments under the sheets and lip-locking with Bo, you confess that the reason you ended up at Ambrose was that the police were hot on your tail.

"It's fate," you say as you trace circles on his chest. "We were meant to meet, to be family" he would usually scoff at such a notion but the way you fit into his deranged life so easily...

"It's something", he gruffs out, watching as you take the lighter from his hand to light the cigarette between his lips. "Whatever it is, it brought you to me so"

"Aww, Bo, you gettin' sappy on me?" your teasing makes him threaten to shove the cigarette in your mouth but you just laugh it off.

"Love ya', Bo" he averts his eyes but mumbles.

"Love you too..."

Vincent Sinclair (House of Wax) -

Instead of catching Bo's eyes, it's Vincent's heart that you grasp.

A solo traveller that somehow got roped in with another group, a victim of circumstance is what Vincent would have called you.

But instead, you've ruthlessly wormed your way inside his heart.

While the others ran like headless chickens when Bo started killing, you were dragged by another girl to hide in the Sinclairs' house. Stupid move on her end really, but you were curious about their headquarters of sorts. So you follow, breathing raggedly to sell this whole 'helpless victim' façade.

You find the basement. Despite the chills that run down your spine from the scent of death (and wax) you convince her it'd be a good place to hide.

Vincent hears her as she shakily steps into his lair. He thinks she's the only one but finds it odd that she looks desperately over his shoulder as he slices her head off with a pair of garden shears.

Until he feels a blade pressed right at the base of his spine.

"You're pretty strong" Your eyes twinkle from the corner of his and he goes rigid as you dig the tip of the blade deeper. You reach to brush locks of his hair behind his ear, a growl raises from his throat but you shush him.

Your lips brush on the shell of his ear.

"I'll bring more of them here, I want to watch while you turn them into pieces of art".

Bo is feeling an inkling of worry at the sudden lack of victims. He rushes to see if they've decided to overwhelm Vincent and finds you swinging your feet while Vincent is organizing the bodies of the group.

Bo is distrustful. He thinks you've seduced his twin and while that is true, you've no bad intentions like he thinks you do.

Vincent is painfully awkward compared to your nonchalant energy. But it works, the two of you just work.

He scolds you when you get new wounds from the victims fighting back but it's a bit hypocritical when he does the same.

Though he prefers wax figures, he did dabble in oil paints again as he attempts to recreate the scene he sees of you demolishing victims.

A watcher, a stalker; an artist.

Vincent usually stays in the basement but ever since you came? When the hunt is on, he's watching you. Imprinting the image of your body shaking with muffled laughter as you pull your jaws away from the bleeding neck of a victim, spitting out their vocal cords with a satisfied hum.

"Vinnie" your coo makes him flinch but he walks out from the shadows as you beckon him with your hand. Your boyfriend stands in front of you, reaching to wipe some blood away from your cheek but really the only thing he does is move it around.

"Was that pretty, Vinnie?" he huffs through his nose and lifts your chin up so you stain his waxy lips with warm blood.

He pulls away to sign, 'Always beautifull'.

Lester Sinclair (House of Wax) -

You rode with him on the way to Ambrose.

He's taken by your looks and feels a sense of pity and regrets that you'd be dead soon. Especially since you were the only one among the others that weren't a complete asshole to him.

"Ambrose, huh" he nods, tapping his steering wheel as his eyes flit between the road and you. "Must be pretty secluded, haven't even heard of it", he laughs and tells you it's because you aren't from around here.

"See ya'" he waves at you but you scan him from head to toe in a way that's not scrutinizing but lustful. He feels his cheeks warm, you nod to him as a goodbye before you turn to walk into the death trap that is Ambrose.

He's surprised to find you covered in blood and right outside his shack later that night. Jonesy growls near his heel but you were just sitting there on his porch, casually testing the weight of the hilt of a hatchet in your hands.

"Your brothers should use you more than a glorified Ferryman" he is confused but tense. His muscles are rigid like a snake coiling to bite.

Blood drips from the ends of your hair and nose, you place the hatchet down and crouch, beckoning Jonesy' with a sweet baby voice that has the poor pup confused between staying by Lester's side or sniffing you.

"I like Ambrose," you tell him, your eyes squished into an adorable crescent shape.

"Can I stay, Lester?"

His brothers aren't aware of you until at least a week. They were extremely distrustful of you, their baby brother was someone that they did not want to be harmed. Hence why he stays out of the nitty-gritty of it all.

When you show that you're just as protective of Lester, they approve of your relationship. Not that you would let their approval get in the way of your love for him anyways.

Your boyfriend has to get used to your sudden disappearances and reappearances.

And he has to learn how to stitch you up as well. He doesn't scold you though reminds you to be more careful but drinks up your stories of the victims being crushed under your foot.

Whoever manages to stray far enough from Ambrose to find Lester's shack will find themselves in an entirely different but just as torturous hell.

Jonesy enjoys the raw feed though.

"I gotta go" Lester laughs as you whine and drag him back to your side. "I gotta check if anyone's 'lost'" he reminds but you stubbornly shake your head.

"Can't leave me, I'm hurt and defenceless"

Yeah, Lester's seen you shove the end of a rake down someone's throat with a broken arm and a concussion all while laughing. You could protect yourself with the scrapes and boo-boos from the night before just fine.

Feeling yourself lose this battle, you press a kiss to the nape of his neck as he sits and it makes his breath hitch.

Your hands circle his waist and his head hangs low as you slip your fingers down the band of his underwear.

"Stay" you plead.

"Jesus H. Christ" he turns and you grin triumphantly as he kisses you.

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bingwriterxo · 1 year ago

Text

arachnophobia

pairing: tara carpenter x reader

summary: in which tara protects you from one of your worst fears

warnings: none

word count: 800+

Your scream cut through the silence of the apartment like a hot knife through butter, and Tara jumped at the noise, her heart dropping into her stomach and chills rising along her skin. She quickly pushed herself from her bed, grabbed the taser that was resting on her night stand--courtesy of Sam--and rushed toward the bathroom.

"Y/N?" she yelled as she thudded against the door, hand trying the doorknob only to find it locked. Horrible images were flashing through her mind: you, dead and bloodied on the ground; Ghostface tilting his head at her, that horrible white mask gleaming; a knife, sharp as ever, dripping with your blood. Tara pounded on the door. "Y/N!"

When you whipped the door open, Tara nearly fell on her face, stumbling into the small room with her taser at the ready, her eyes flitting around and preparing to catch sight of the black robes or white mask that haunted her dreams. However, she found nothing, or no one, to suggest the return of Ghostface, and she let out a sigh of relief, tucking the taser into her back pocket before turning to you.

You stood in the doorway, skin pale as a ghost and eyes wide with fear. When Tara reached out for you, she could feel you trembling beneath her, and she furrowed her eyebrows with worry. "What's wrong?" she asked quietly, careful not to spook you.

"There--there's a..." You gulped and pointed toward the shower. Tara whipped around, eyeing the shower curtain. She couldn't see any shadow behind it, but that didn't mean that someone wasn't there. She slipped the taser from her pocket, took slow steps toward the shower, and then ripped the curtain to the side, her arm jabbing out to catch who--if anyone--was hiding in there.

It was empty.

"Huh?" she mumbled to herself before placing the taser on the counter. She peeked her head farther in, as though perhaps she had missed something, before shrugging and turning around. You still looked horrified, however, and she asked again, "Baby, what's wrong?"

You swallowed hard and inhaled a shaky breath. "Don't you see it? It's huge!" you said, which offered the brunette no further explanation. Still, to try to calm you, Tara looked inside the shower again, and then she realized what you were so afraid of.

There, just beneath the handle, was the tiniest spider Tara had ever laid eyes on. It wasn't moving, simply just existing in the space, and the brunette smiled softly at it. "Well, hello little guy," she cooed. She turned around and looked at you. "What do you want me to do with it?" she asked.

You waved your hands around. "I don't know! Kill it or something! Anything!" you rushed out.

She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and glanced back at the spider. She didn't want to kill it--that felt a bit harsh, especially because it wasn't even doing anything menacing. Instead, she grabbed a few squares of toilet paper, folded them so that it was thick, and held it out to the spider, waiting for a moment until it climbed onto the paper.

Tara maneuvered her way to her bedroom quickly, gigging softly when she passed you and you squeaked at the sight, and then opened her window, urging the spider to hop off the toilet paper with a small, "There you go, little dude!"

"Is it safe to come in?" you asked from the doorway of her bedroom. Tara turned to you, grinning, and nodded, shutting the window once the spider was finally gone. You sighed, falling onto the brunette's bed.

She rounded the edge of her bed and stood between your open legs, resting a hand on your knee. "I didn't realize you're so afraid of spiders," she teased, nails running along your bare skin softly.

You shivered, both at the thought of those eight-legged freaks and the feel of your girlfriend's touch. "They're horrifying. I fucking hate them," you admitted. "Nothing creeps me out more than spiders." You sat up and wrapped your arms around Tara's waist, resting your chin on her chest and looking up at her. "Thank you for dealing with it, though."

She laughed. "No problem, baby. I mean, when you screamed, I thought that Ghostface had returned or some shit," she said, moving her hand up to scratch at the back of your head. You pushed into her touch as you frowned.

"I was wondering why you brought a taser into the bathroom."

"Well, you screamed bloody-goddamn-murder. Can you blame me?"

You chuckled, an embarrassed blush rising to your cheeks. "I guess that's my bad," you said softly.

Tara hummed with a smile. "It's okay." She leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to your lips, pulling away just enough to whisper, "I'll always be around to protect you from the big, bad spiders," before kissing you again.

bonus: when sam returned home for the night, you could hear her out in the main room of the apartment, shuffling around and putting her keys away and whatnot. you didn't pay her much mind until her voice broke out.

"tara?" she called, confused. "why the hell is your taser in the bathroom?!"

#tara carpenter x reader #tara x reader #tara carpenter #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #scream 5 #scream 6

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dawnbreakerluna · 12 days ago

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Here's my biggest complaint: I think Infold missed a huge opportunity by not making Love & Deepspace an action, open-world RPG game compared to a mobile otome game. While I do understand the safer route it takes and how it can appeal to a certain audience for the better of profit and accessible marketing, it's becoming a bit overwhelming with how broad the lore is becoming and how the storytelling is incredibly multilayered. And while I'm always for the method of irregular storytelling to leave more mystery and opening room for interpretation / discussion with other players, I think there is only so much that Infold can actually maintain on a mobile platform.

I've spoken countlessly about how L&DS shares elements similar to that of the modern Final Fantasy games and Devil May Cry (particularly DMC5 since it's the most recent). While I initially thought this was just for the character design and the design of the combat system, I'm soon realizing that the amount of theories I see about the story are beginning to venture towards a bigger platform.

I think even Infold themselves is realizing this big oopsie they did because I feel like after the big release of Sylus's debut, there's beginning to feel like a strong lack of focus and care towards the main story. I thought Zayne's story branch was going to be bigger than it was when the trailer dropped... only to feel really underwhelmed at the end? I've restrained myself from playing Rafayel's latest branch for this reason because I don't feel as excited like I used to and I'm unsure of what I'm going to get since Infold's lost my trust as they're in a cash-grab cow era at the moment!

But in truth, if Infold isn't going to change this up soon, the game is just going to get boring. I think player burnout is more prevalent now because of the overwhelming amount of content and the announcement of a new quad banner. I'm not the only player who is being vulnerable about the difficulties of being f2p compared to those who can afford pulling for every banner and spending beyond $1k on this game.

That's the thing, as well. The controversial thing I believe is that Infold would've made the same profit, if not more, by making L&DS an RPG. It would still have the same effect, and fans would still be making the same kind of lewd content. You think hack-and-slash games are free from the perverted freaks of fandom? Absolutely not, LMAO. Here's an example of how this could've gone:

The main story as the open world exploration, as the main quest the player can engage in. MC is still customizable entirely in the functions it has now, but if for an open-world RPG, I would suggest adding the option for more diverse body types. I would love to see the Hunter HQ and Linkon City as open spaces to walk around and explore. Imagine how sick the N109 Zone would look.

There can be MULTIPLE ways to attain the Memories. In my opinion, with this format, all the perma-banner Memories are attainable. You can get Memories by completing boss fights, side quests, or unlocking them by doing secret quests. It's like basic game achievements. As for the limited Memories, Infold could STILL program codes for temporary events, collabs, DLCs, etc. Ex. Final Fantasy 15 did this for something related to Assassin's Creed, and by participating in that event, you would unlock the event outfits permanently for the whole party. THAT is how it should be for the limited Memories. By completing the event's tasks (can be with any LI of choice), you unlock the Memories, the outfits, and so on. If players want the limited event content after, they can and should be purchased with IN-GAME CURRENCY.

Abyssal Chaos can still be a thing with the same reward system. This would be a great way to complete challenges and encourage people to improve their combat play style. However, there could be more missions beyond Tobias' story to complete. More levels of difficulty too, that way the challenges are bigger and it gives people ample time to actually prepare if they're trying to 100% everything even on the hardest difficulty.

The additional base game outfits that are perma-available to unlock with Chocolates, etc. should be able to be unlocked with leveling up your character. No payments. I said what I said.

Oh, also, conclusively, the main story would be finished. It's just that it would take a VERY long time to complete the game and on top of wanting to get all the achievements, it would take you even longer. I know certain people prefer a canon ending, but this type of game and story format would benefit from a choose-your-own-path type of path. I'm not even sorry, LMAO. Plenty of games in this format have done this, and once again, it gives you more incentive to play the game more if you want to achieve all four endings with each LI or something. You'll be fine, you'll live!

#thank you for listening to my ted talk #what makes infold think that fans still won't host events or smth for their virtual blorbos if it WASN'T an rpg? the bitches love rpg men #but truthfully writing this out made so much more sense as to why infold dropped the ball #like girl what #girl get this shit on console and pc platforms instead like... immediately!#thanks #lads #lnds #l&ds #love and deepspace #love & deepspace

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iamthecomet · 8 months ago

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it's a missing Aether day here, trying to comfort myself with thoughts of Aether with arms wide open to welcome back his pack with all the hugs and kisses they could ever want, I miss our big boi sm, I need little domestic thoughts to keep me sane 😭

It is always missing Aether (and Sunny) hours. I think he keeps busy when they're gone. Working a lot at the infirmary. Learning new skills he can try out on them when they get home. New recipies, learning a new craft, he can't wait to show Cumulus the little crochet things he's been making, tending to Mountain's plants with almost as much care an attention as Mountain himself. Making sure he feeds the little cat Dew is pretending he hasn't adopted (it still lives outside in the cemetery, but Dew named it, so it's pretty much over). Just think about how he'd wait for them to get home. Bouncing on the balls of his feet as he watches the vans pull up the driveway. Rocking back and forth, barely containing his excitement. He'd hug all of them in turn. Sweeping most of them off of their feet in a crushing hug. Inhaling the scent of them. All of them smelling a little off--like hotels and weird soap--but still like them. Holding them close so they can feel just how much he loves and missed them. I bet he and Sunny made dinner too. That after their exhausted bandmates are hugged and kissed and have gotten inside and had a shower in their own bathroom for the first time in months, Aether ushers them all into the dining room. And he and Sunny feed them. Nothing too extravagant. They're all so tired. Excited to be home, exuberent. Full of that sort of relaxed energy you get when you step back into your space after a long time away--but still tired. And Aether doesn't want to make that worse. He doesn't want to overwhelm. So they make light comfort food. Salads and roasted vegetables with veggies fresh from Mountain's gardens. Pasta with olive oil and a little cheese and a lot of salt and pepper. Cheese boards and fruit boards, and lots of fresh bread. Decadent, but simple. And they could all go back to their own beds after dinner. Sleep in their own sheets after so many months. But you know, instead, they all end up cuddled in the common room. A movie on the TV that none of them are watching. Aether stuck right in the middle of them (Sunny too, honestly. Both of them being squished in the best way by their pack), his arms curled around two ghouls while another naps on his chest.

#comet canons #comet writes #?#Aether ghoul #Domestic Aether #I could write about domestic Aether thoughts forever #slice of life and domestic ghouls have my whole heart #Dew's little cats name is Soot I've written about her before and I love her

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our-destiny · 2 years ago

Text

Not sure what to title this, but it's dark/yandere Bucky and a hint of pervert!Bucky. The ending is super rushed and as always this is super self indulgent and not well written <3 readers gender is not specified

Trigger warnings: Stalking, violence (not towards reader), killing, male masturbation, Buckys filthy thoughts, stealing, mention of reader masturbating, implied noncon at the end - if I missed anything please let me know

I am not responsible for the media you consume, read the warnings, minors dni

Want to read more of my work? Check out my Masterlist

Word count: 1378

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Bucky, who's still getting used to the new world, the Winter Soldier progamming not quite gone yet, lost in this unfamiliar world until he meets you. He doesn't really understand social norms, so when he feels a need to protect you and be around you, he does just that.

He follows you around, not really trying to hide it, and stares at you openly from across the room.

He convinced Tony to put your room next to his (or changed rooms so he could be next to you idk) so he could always listen to you and make sure you're okay. He learns your schedule and follows it, always trailing behind you like your shadow.

In the morning he would let himself into your room. If you were still asleep he would sit and watch you, when you awoke and asked what the hell he was doing, he would just stare, saying nothing. After the first few times this happened you started locking your door at night, which did nothing because he would just break the lock. Though he stopped after Steve told him off for it, so now he just stands outside your door waiting for you. He'd wait for you to get ready before following walking with you to breakfast. When you sit down to eat he makes sure he's sitting next to you, kicking someone out of their seat if need be, and also makes sure no one else is sitting on the other side of you. When eating he still stares at you, only ever glancing away, almost as if you would disappear at any moment. He follows you around the rest of the day, joining you in the gym, following you when you go out to eat. He's always there, always watching.

When you go to your room, he leaves you be. Steve told him that you needed some privacy and alone time, so when you shut the door in his face he goes to his room next door. He's not too worried about you getting hurt since he can hear everything you're doing in there. If someone were to come over to your room, he would first lean against his door, listening to your conversation with them, holding his trusty gun ready to attack if they tried to hurt you. When they left he would calm down and open his door to check up on you, once he knows you're okay he'll go back into his room. However if you were to invite them into your room, he wouldn't allow that, immediately storming out of his room and into yours, ready to tell the other person to get the fuck out. You see he doesn't like leaving you alone, let alone leaving you alone with another person, he has to be next to you or at least have you in his sight. You can convince him to let them stay, as long as you also let him stay in your room to watch over you, but if you don't say anything he will demand they leave and will make it physical if he has to.

He doesn't like it when other people touch you or gets too close to you. After so long with Hydra he doesn't understand that touches can be friendly, anytime someone touches you he thinks they're out to hurt you. If anyone tries to touch you Bucky will stand between you two and glare at them until they either leave or back off. If someone does put their hand on you, even if it's just a friendly pat on the back, he'll almost break their wrist while getting them off of you.

Bucky does give you some personal space depending on where you are. If you're in a room that's not very crowded then he'll be further away, but if you're at a party or something else where there's a lot of people, he'll stand really close to you. Your back will be pressed against his chest and you can feel him breathing down your neck, you might as well be sitting in his lap because he's so close.

He doesn't talk much, either. Or at all actually. If he does speak it's probably to tell someone to go away or stop touching you. But he likes listening to you. Anything you say to him, or just say in general, he'll remember even if it seems like he's not listening.

He almost thinks of you as his handler. Like you own him or control him, or like he has some sort of duty to protect you and follow your commands. If you mention that someone was annoying you today, that night while you're sleeping he'll go and kill them for you. Bucky won't follow out every command you give him, there's stuff he won't budge on when it comes to your safety. Such as he won't stop following you, and he won't let anyone touch you. You could trick him to leave you alone if you tell him to wait somewhere and then make a run for it, but after a few minutes he'll start to worry that you're in danger and go find you. And he will find you, he's trained to track people down so you won't be away from him for long. Your safety comes above everything for him, including your word, so he won't let people touch you. No matter what you say. If someone tries to touch you, you can talk him out of hurting them or killing them, by just telling him to leave it be but he still won't let them lay a hand on you.

He's not completely honest with you. There's some stuff you don't know about, like how he kills anyone he deems a threat, and how he comes into your room at night, picks the lock if he has to, just to watch you sleep, and hear you breathe. There's something about how peaceful you look, how unaware you are when you sleep that he can't get enough of. Maybe it's just that he likes seeing you safe and comfortable, maybe he just likes the idea of him having your life in his hands, the choice of whether to be your protector or your abuser. Maybe he's just happy that he found a reason to live now, a person to take care of. Either way he sits and watches you sleep, like a loyal guard dog.

You also don't know how much of a pervert Bucky is. How he lets himself into your room when you're not there, lays on your bed, getting lost in your scent. He can't help but touch himself, to grind against the mattress imagining it was you underneath him, you he was thrusting his cock into, cuming on your sheets leaving a sticky residue. He pokes around and steals a few things to add to his collection, finding your underwear drawer and jerking off again with a pair pressed against his nose before stealing a few to use later. He's so horny for you whenever he's alone he can't stop thinking about your body, he cums at least five times a day now because of you. When he wakes up he immediately rubs one out, in the shower, when he goes to bed, anytime he's alone. Remember how I said he can hear everything you do when you're in your room? He can hear you masturbate, and touches himself to the sound of you, talking to you as if you could hear him. It takes all of his will power not to just take you whenever he pleases, he thinks about it though. When he watches you while you're asleep he thinks about just having a little taste, wondering if you'd wake up if he were to slip his cock into you. When you're in the gym he thinks about pulling down your workout pants and fucking you, doesn't matter if anyone else is there. When you eat breakfast he imagines fucking your face. He's just so horny for you.

Eventually he snaps, kidnapping you and locking you away in a cabin far into the woods, finally able to act out all of his desires and keep you safe by his side <3

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Reblog to give me motivation to write more shit <33

#dark bucky barnes #yandere bucky x reader #yandere bucky barnes #yandere bucky #bucky barnes #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky imagine #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #dark!bucky barnes x reader #dark bucky x you #yandere marvel #yandere mcu #dark marvel #dark mcu #bucky smut #yandere!bucky

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