#AND NOW YOUR TELLING ME THE NEXT EVENT YOU ARE PULLING OUT IS SUPPOSEDLY ANOTHER DOUBLE UR HELL!?!?!

[lets-play-dress-up]

The urge to throw my phone out the window is immense...

[bismuthupmy]

Nothing Hurts | Leon x Luis RE4

Chapter One | 3.0k

The story of tragic righteousness where nobody is hurt and everything is perfect. Except nothing is perfect in hell.

A re-imagining of the events of the Resident Evil 4 remake where Luis and Leon get the ending they deserved.

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Hello! I fell terribly in love it’s both this game and with our two resident boys and I couldn’t help but write for them. I absolutely refuse certain events :))) so here i am with a fix-it. This will be multi-chaptered so I’ll link all the chapters in my masterlist as well as the previous and next chapter at the bottom

I also posted this on my AO3!

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The car rattled down the old road, the early morning moonlight casting long shadows of the trees onto the pebbles in front. Some Spanish song was quietly playing on the radio, getting on his nerves. He preferred silence when going into missions. Keeps the edge off.

Leon watched the trees go by, head leaned against his hand. It had been hours since they left the station nearly heading into dawn by now. He looked down absently at the picture in his hand, the young girl's face burned into his mind by now.

“So tell me, Yanqui,” the police officer in the passenger seat swivelled around, bringing Leon out of his thoughts. “Why did you come to this horrible place, as close to nowhere as I’ve ever seen?”

Leon tipped his head back in exasperation. They couldn’t have asked him that ages ago?

“Let’s just say- looking for someone.”

“That someone must be very important, eh?” The officer turned backpack around, gesturing broadly with his next words. “The chief gave the orders himself. ‘Help him,’ he said.”

“Well, I'm sure you boys didn’t come all the way out here to roast marshmallows,” Leon remarked. Both officers chuckled. “Or maybe you did.”

Leon turned back to the window watching as tree after tree was left behind them. The officer in the passenger side regarded Leon again.

“You have a strange sense of humour. I'll let you in on a little secret. Just between us. A lot of people have gone missing here. And it's been that way for a while now.”

“Well, then… should be just another day in the office, right?

The officer hummed, “I mean, last week there was a search for some missing hikers.”

If he was trying to scare Leon with a ghost story or interest him in doing their job for them, Leon didn’t know. He wasn’t buying it though.

“I'm sure you’ll do your best to help me,” was all he replied. 

The car sped down a side road, supposedly leading to the village. The car rumbled to a stop in front of an old wooden fence, rotting and eaten by fungus.

“I think this is it,” the officer driving pointed out. This was it, alright. However, they were supposed to drop him off closer to the village.

The passenger officer turned around to justify them stopping prematurely.

“Nature calls, eh? I'll be right back.”

He steps out of the vehicle wobbling into the darkness for some privacy.

“¡Que frío!”

“¿Te has bebido el bar entero?” The driver teased, pulling out a cigarette. The other officer scoffed and continued walking. “You smoke?”

He offered a cigarette to Leon who waved him off in favour of watching the woods where the officer had wandered through, spying a wooden icon nailed to a post amongst the trees. Wasn’t exactly comforting. The radio crackled, not able to pick up a stable frequency this far into the forest. They waited ten minutes for the officer to return without a sign. 

“He sure is taking his time,” the driver mused. “Did he fall in?”

Leon ignored him. He continued talking anyway.

“Maybe you better go and take a look?”

Huffing out of frustration, Leon begrudgingly pulled himself out of the police car, cool morning breeze rushing into the warm car. 

“I'll watch the car,” the driver smirked with no intention of leaving where he sat. “Wouldn’t want to get a parking ticket.”

Leon wandered deeper into the woods, “So much for helping me.”

─•~❉᯽❉~•──•~❉᯽❉~•──•~❉᯽❉~•──•~❉᯽❉~•─

Walking deeper into the woods beyond the fence, the more random abandoned objects there were. Wheelbarrows were upturned and barbed wire fences had collapsed. Leon even came across a mangled deer corpse past the old remains for an iron gate which brought mainly more concerns with the whereabouts of that officer. Up ahead, through the brush, orange light could be seen. Leon crouched under more barbed wire, coming up quietly on the lodge.

Cautiously Leon nudged open the door and was met with silence throughout the house. Walking down the hall he edged inside the next room which was also empty. On the bed was an icon of sorts, marred with blood with hasty writing scrolled down the length of it. Judgement is nigh. Something was terribly wrong with this village.

A small crack in the wall of the bedroom caught Leon’s eye. Looking through it revealed what looked to be a kitchen on the other side. Leon left the bedroom and quietly walked through the halls coming up to a door. Locked. He’d  come back to it later. 

There was another door to the right of where he stood which was the kitchen he saw. Leon carefully opened this next door, unable to indulge in the warmth of the fireplace as a man stood directly behind him. Leon jumped, seeming to not be on the man’s radar as he listlessly wandered back to his pot, muttering in Spanish. Mildly peeved, Leon asked him about the officer.

“Sorry to barge in like this,” Leon tried to communicate. The man ignored him, seeming to not notice that he was there so Leon tried again. “Busco a un policía, ¿vino aquí?”

Leon  approached the man slowly, stepping on something which crunched slightly under his boot. He knelt down picking up the bloodied badge of the officer. The sound of a thump caught Leon’s attention as the man on the other side of the room lunged at him, hatchet in hand. Leon parried the attack, pushing back against the force of the man, making him stumble back. Without hesitation, Leon’s leg collided with the man's head, crushing his neck against the wall with a roundhouse kick. Leon breathed heavily, taking a few steps back. What the absolute fuck. 

A man’s scream resonated from the depth of the house, startling Leon back into attack mode, gun pulled out of his holster. Looking down at the man on the ground he spotted a key that had fallen loose and snatched it up. Jogging back to the locked door, the key slid in easily. Leon swung the door open silently, handgun by his ear as he stared down the eerie staircase to the basement of the lodge.

“Fuck me.”

The floorboards creaked, making him cringe as he descended into the thick smell of rotting corpses. Pulling out his flashlight, he shone the beam around the room at the bottom. Lo and behold, there were corpses. A large deer layed dismembered on a table, skulls and bones and the meat of some cattle were held up on hooks, rotting. The stench was enough to take you out.

The wet squelch of coagulated blood bounced off the wooden walls as Leon inched closer to a curtain separating the basement. The old cloth was dead still, dispersing dust as he nudged past it. The crackle of a radio came from somewhere in the corner of the room. Twisting, back against the adjacent wall, Leon scanned the tucked away room, torch light resting on a very bloody mound. 

“Hey!”

The police officer was frozen in a state of terror, blood dripping from his nose and where his throat and forehead had been split open. His radio crackled and garbled Spanish came through. Leon crouched beside the dead officer and fished the radio out of its holder. Screams and then silence and static.

“Shit.”

Thump. The door of the basement was thrown open. Leon stood, gun out in front of him. Creeping back past the cloth curtain he made his way back to the main slaughter room. Heavy footsteps clunked down the stairs as Leon backed up against the stone wall by the bottom of the landing. Sucking in a breath to steady himself he looked to the edge of the stairs.

A crooked neck and oozing flesh met Leon's eyes for an instant before there were hands around his neck. His knife was drawn and seated deep into his attacker's throat causing him to stagger backwards, unphased. Didn’t he already smash this guy into a wall?

“What the fuck!”

Two well placed bullets between the eyes and the man fell to the ground, hopefully dead. Getting a closer look at the man Leon saw the very obvious break in his neck where his head was hanging on for dear life when he had been standing. Gross. Leon rubbed the tender spot on his neck where he was grabbed, straightening up.

“That’s cool. Didn’t really want to explain to the owner why there was a dead man in his kitchen anyway,” Leon huffed and climbed the stairs with much more mindfulness this time. At the top of the stairs the door hung open, beyond it another man slinking down the hall a hatchet in hand.

“What is wrong with these people?” Leon muttered to himself. Now these guys were definitely not here to roast marshmallows, Leon knew for sure. 

Stepping past the man and slipping into an adjacent room was easy enough. Leon followed a staircase which creaked painfully like the last one, however he made it to an empty room without incident, locking the door behind him.

Exhaling, he looked around the room. On the far wall were maps and images hastily taped together illuminated by the butt end of a candle. One picture in particular caught his eye so he held his hand out to it so he could see it better. The picture was of a young girl tied up unceremoniously. Beneath her picture was the map, a large red cross indicating a location on a lake.

“Ashley…”

Leon put a hand up to this earpiece, sifting through more papers littered on the desk.

“Roost, this is Condor One.”

“Hunnigan here. What’s your sitrep?” A woman came through on the other side.

“The president’s daughter— Baby Eagle. It’s likely she’s in this village.”

“Our intel was correct, then,” Hunnigan began furiously typing into her computer. “Well done.”

Leon fished out a few other photos, each one pointing more and more towards Ashley’s location near a lake at some point. It was a good place to start.

“Need a location on a nearby lake. She may have been taken there.”

“Copy that. I’ll see what I can find.”

“Hurry up. Something’s happened to the people here. My escorts are-”

Several thundering footsteps travel up the stairs, eerily muffled through the door. More alarmingly, a hatchet was struck through said door. 

“Gotta go. Talk later.”

The hatchet was brought backwards and smashed through the door again, breaking it open with its force allowing several people belonging to those several footsteps to pile into the room. They closed in, weapons braced in their hands, sickly looking faces scrunched in anger. Leon backed up thinking of the best course of action in this situation, eyes landing on a window.

“I’ll let myself out.”

He dove out of the window, arms shielding his face, landing and rolling through the dirt to diffuse the fall. Looking up, the men in the lodge leaned out the window, eyed him, but let him go. Standing up, leon carefully dusted off any shards of glass with his forearms. Deciding to put the entire lodge incident behind him, Leon turned to the only path ahead. A rickety, bloody bridge.

“Perfect.”

─•~❉᯽❉~•──•~❉᯽❉~•──•~❉᯽❉~•──•~❉᯽❉~•─

Leon trudged along, eyes and ears open out for anything suspicious. He stepped through an abandoned hut just as the morning sun was beginning to illuminate the forest. The path was overgrown, weeds whipping at his legs as he walked through them. Up ahead he could hear murmuring in Spanish. He hoped to god, which he didn’t do often, that these people were normal but he didn’t have high hopes. Not completely to his surprise, the villagers tried to impale him. He made quick work of them. He had better things to do than be held back by a few homicidal lunatics.

Just as he was beginning to move on however, one of the farmers started jerking, limbs shaking and body convulsing. Leon was definitely sure that dead bodies didn’t do that so another swift bullet to the head didn’t hurt. 

The rest of his walk to the village was uneventful. Only when he came up on the gates of the village did shit go down. Yelling and jeering from the villages in the square carried on the wind. Crouching to stay unseen by the crowd, Leon watched. The second policeman escorting him was tied to a similar icon post that Leon had seen earlier in the night. The villagers crowded him, stacking piles of sticks beneath him. They were going to burn him.

Before Leon could act, a torch was thrown onto the sticks, immediately catching fire and extending to cover the officer screaming for mercy. What a way to go.

“Holy shit…”

It definitely wasn’t a good idea to get in the villagers' way so Leon ducked down a side alley. A lone woman was digging at some hay at the end of the alley and Leon thought to himself, what the hell. Sneaking up behind the woman he pulled out his knife. He lunged up, grabbing the woman by her mouth and digging the knife upwards into her skull. Some part of him wondered if he had just killed an innocent but by the state of this village that wasn’t likely. Better to be safe than sorry.

The closer he got to the village centre, the more villagers had gathered around the bonfire. Sticking to the outskirts behind buildings, Leon inched his way around the open area, turning down a second alley and into a store room. Crates splashed with yellow paint were stacked against each other which Leon found odd. When he opened the crates to find ammo and a grenade he was less sceptical. He was hoping to get away from the crowd without being seen but if worse came to worst the grenade would be handy.

Spying through the cracks in the storeroom door, Leon made sure there were  no villagers coming his way before stepping back outside. The road adjacent ran from uphill down to the city centre, giving Leon a clear way out of this segment. He tilted his head around the corner of the store room, unfortunately immediately coming face to face with a villager.

“¡Ahí está!”

Leon sighed. So much for sneaking around. His handgun was pulled from its holster and a few bullets nailed into the villager’s head. This only caused the villager to stumble slightly which very much irritated Leon.

“What the fuck are these people eating? Pure steel?”

He swung his foot into the villager’s face, knocking him to the ground. He whirled around to face the gang of villagers stalking towards him from the bonfire. Leon dashed for a house, hoping for a bar lock like the lodge. He slipped into a large house and flung himself at the door to keep the villagers out, indeed finding a lock which he slid into place. The sound of mechanical whirring behind the door alarmed him. 

Taking a quick peek out through a window revealed  a rather gnarly looking villager with a sack on top of his head, bloodied hands holding an old rusty chainsaw.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Leon muttered to  himself moving further into the house. The house had stairs. That was good leverage over the villagers. Running up the stairs Leon spotted an old shotgun mounted on the wall. 

“Now we're talking.”

Leon grabbed the shotgun and checked the chamber. Full. It’ll have to do. The villagers had barged down the front door at this point, scrambling over each other to get to him like children at some sick circus and he was the petting zoo. 

Leon waited for them to get close to one another as they tripped over each other at the base of the stairs, pulling out his grenade and tossing it into the hoard. Limbs went flying. Leon was flung back into the wall, coughing harshly, dust and smoke coating his lungs. Maybe it wasn’t the best idea to do that inside. More villagers followed the first lot, the chainsaw villager following behind. 

Ears ringing and chest heaving, Leon tried to compose himself. The villagers were fast though and didn’t give him time. One of them lunged at him, grabbing him from behind and holding him open for  attacks. The Chainsaw Man menacingly took  his time coming up the stairs as Leon struggled against his captor. The chainsaw was raised high above his head just as Leon managed to manoeuvre one of his arms around the villager holding him, twisting and hurling him over his shoulder into the chainsaw. This gave Leon the time to dive through his second window of the day and out onto a roof.

Glass clung to his hair and jacket but he paid no mind. There were other pressing matters. Scrambling on top of the roof Leon pulled out his new shotgun. As villagers climbed out of the window after him he blew them to bits. The shotgun worked magic. Well, until Chainsaw Man came out.

Two shotgun shots to the head staggered him and Leon followed up with a kick resulting in a meaty crack. Chainsaw Man remained just fine, picking his chainsaw back up effortlessly. Cursing, Leon pointed the shotgun at him again but all  that came out of it was clicks.

Tucking the shotgun under his arm, Leon dropped to the ground below. Chainsaw Man, and whoever else, followed. Quickly, the remaining villagers took up the rear as Leon focused on the chainsaw, effectively blocking him in. Another villager grabbed him from behind, dragging him backwards. A woman with a pitchfork charged, heading straight for his chest, but then stopped.

The town bell sang. The villagers stopped, turning the attention away from Leon as if entranced. Arms removed themselves from around his shoulders. Leon stood there perplexed as they began to march dutifully toward the bell, dropping their weapons in the mud. One after the other, they disappeared into the town hall, the doors closed shut tightly behind them. Leon was left alone in the city centre, remnants of the bell echoing in his ears.

“Where’s everyone going? Bingo?”

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Hope you guys enjoy this one! I’m really exited to see where i can take this story :)

| Next ->

[spencers-renaissance]

The Other Side of the Storm

Summary: Spencer & Luke are not out as a couple but have to attend the same FBI gala where a young, pretty agent insists on flirting with Luke. Misunderstandings and surprising reveals ensue.

Tags: relationship reveal, secret relationship, coming out, jealousy, caught, hurt/comfort, autistic spencer, angst with a happy ending, misunderstandings, found family, est. rel., cuddling & snuggling, domestic fluff

Pairing: Luke Alvez x Spencer Reid

Word Count: 2.7k

Masterlist // Read on AO3

Lets pretend I didn't just disappear for a couple of weeks bc I'm BACK now yay! This is written for a prompt from @ralvezhq who asked: "Ralvez is already dating but no one knows about them yet. they get invited to some sort of FBI gala and a young, accomplished female agent won’t stop flirting with luke and spencer is absolutely not having it so he finds a way to let everyone know they are together." -- I stuck to it except that they're caught rather than willingly confessing, I hope that's okay! I really enjoyed this one, so I hope you do as well.

!!!TW: the woman is very insistent on her flirting and makes Luke uncomfortable when she touches his chest without his consent!!!

“Any particular reason you keep looking over at that table full of Fugitive Task Force members, Spence?” JJ asks amusedly, sipping from her wine glass.

“Mm, I’ve noticed you looking over there a little bit,” Tara muses. “You got your eye on someone?”

Spencer looks down and forces a laugh, but he can feel the tips of his ears turning pink, and knows that he’s not gonna hear the end of this for the rest of the night. The team have never been fond of the FBI Galas they’re forced into attending every year, and unfortunately, Hotch’s usual stunt of pulling a non-urgent case from the stack and jetting off to some far-flung corner of the country to avoid it failed to fool the director this time.

He’d broken the news to them at the start of the week, and conversation in the bullpen has pretty much exclusively revolved around the event ever since. Even Penelope, who loves seeing people win awards and dressing up in her favourite full-glam outfits, has been significantly less upbeat. She only gave him one spontaneous hug all week.

None of them, though, have been dreading it more than Spencer. The others aren’t exactly fond of the faux smiles and convoluted politics and fake niceties either, sure, but tonight he has far more to lose than ever before. Namely, the man sat just out of his direct eye line at the Fugitive Task Force table.

Ironically, he and Luke had gotten ready for the same event together. They’d stood in the mirror side by side and tied one another’s ties in the way that always makes Spencer smile and Luke had gently brushed his hair out of eyes, but when it came time to leave, Spencer called a rideshare, and Luke drove the truck, arriving at completely different times in completely different vehicles.

The thing is, that as much as he loves his team, and as much as the FBI fraternisation policy has been significantly relaxed over the last few years, no one can know they’re together and have been for the last eight months.

Even the thought of Derek or Hotch or even JJ finding out — not only that he’s dating someone but that that person is a man — makes him feel queasy.

Which is why he smiles around an awkward cough and forces himself to meet the eyes of his profiler teammates, fighting every instinct in him to run, leg it out of here, never show your face again.

“No, I’m just looking at the clock above them,” he lies, and it isn’t smooth in any way shape or form but it’ll have to do. “You know I can’t wait for this to end. I haven’t read any Carl Jung in weeks.”

Tara laughs, raising her wine glass slightly. “Now that I understand.”

“Nah, I’m not so sure,” Derek grins slyly, “I think my man has his eye on some girl and he’s just getting a little shy, am I right, pretty boy?” He quirks an eyebrow playfully, leaning over to pat him on the back, and Spencer scrambles to recover.

“Believe whatever you’d like, Morgan,” he says, bringing his own glass to his lips to conceal any tells in his expression. “Doesn’t make it any less false.”

Thankfully, the conversation is interrupted by the Director clearing his throat into the mic on the stage as he introduces the next round of awards. Spencer loses himself in the anonymity of a dark room and a clapping audience, grateful that he’s avoided this round of interrogation.

The rest of the night progresses similarly. Spencer tries to keep his eyes away from Luke’s table — and valiantly attempts to keep from blushing like a schoolgirl when their eyes meet and Luke’s lips quirk upwards in an I-tried-to-stop-it-but-I-just-can’t kind of smile — and the rest of his team rib him pretty relentlessly about this ‘girl’ he supposedly has his eye on.

Hotch tries to get the team to leave him alone, but when a group of skilled, determined profilers all a little tipsy on wine and champagne encounter a friend’s mysterious love life, it’s pretty difficult to stand in their way.

Once dessert is served, though, things rapidly go downhill.

As much as he’s been trying to keep his eyes away from Luke’s table, it’s almost impossible to prevent his gaze from straying in a temporary moment of cognitive lapse every now and then, and while everyone is relatively quiet and occupied, digging into the Belgian waffle dessert, it happens once again. This time, though, instead of a small smile from Luke, he’s rewarded with the frankly heart-stopping sight of a young, pretty agent practically sitting in his lap, trying to feed him dessert.

He looks uncomfortable, and immediately Spencer is hit with an overwhelming wave of insecurity, jealousy, and an urge to protect that strangles his breath for a moment. He stares unabashedly, no longer caring whether anyone sees him because that’s his boyfriend and an extremely pretty woman is all over him and he looks like he wants her to stop, and oh my god, what does he do?

“Is that the girl you like all over that dude?” Derek asks sympathetically, catching onto Spencer’s staring. “It’s alright, man, if she’d choose someone else over you then she’s not right for you anyway. Why don’t you come and enjoy your dessert?”

Spencer senses the rest of the team’s eyes on him, but they don’t say anything, probably from a combination of pity, awkwardness, and confidence in Derek to counsel him through it. He’s hardly cognisant of that, though, instead a roar of emotion crashing through his mind, and he has no idea what to do about it.

When he sees a perfectly manicured hand land directly on Luke’s chest, though; when he sees Luke reject her more firmly, this time pushing her away; when he watches as she clearly gears herself up for some sad protest of self-victimisation, he sees red.

Before he can stop himself, he’s storming across the room over to Luke’s table. “Hi,” he says firmly, audibly pissed off and not in the mood for bullshit, “do you mind if I borrow my friend here? I have some official FBI business to discuss with him. Thanks.”

Without waiting for a response, he grabs Luke’s arm and leads him to the corridor outside the main hall, Luke following quickly and willingly behind him.

“Are you okay?” Spencer asks with his brow furrowed, his hand coming up to gently rest on Luke’s waist as he peers at him concernedly through the dim lighting of the hallway.

“Yes, baby, I’m fine,” Luke smiles reassuringly, raising a hand to Spencer’s face. “I’m sorry you had to see that. She was… persistent.”

“She shouldn’t have made you uncomfortable like that,” Spencer insists, still feeling distressed and anxious despite the immediate situation having been diffused.

“You’re right,” Luke agrees. “And she should’ve listened to me when I told her I was taken. I’m sorry you had to see someone flirting with me so openly like that, carinõ, I know you still get insecure about things like that.”

Spencer sighs, relaxing slowly the more he hears Luke’s voice as steady and strong and kind as it always is. He steps forward and buries his face in Luke’s neck as he nestles in close for a comforting hug.

“You know I only have eyes for you, right, sweetheart?” Luke whispers softly, one arm holding his waist and another tangling itself in Spencer’s loose curls.

He nods into Luke’s neck, but doesn’t make any move to pull away, just enjoying the warmth and closeness of standing so intimately with the man he loves until—

“Spencer!” Derek’s voice pulls him violently from his sweet escape from reality and horror instantly floods him as he jerks away from Luke, staring at Derek in a nauseating mixture of alarm and trepidation.

“What…” Derek stares right back at him as both JJ and Tara come tumbling through the doors behind him, looking ready for a fight—

Oh. That makes sense. They all saw him storming towards a woman they thought he had a crush on, then pull the man she was flirting with out into the most secluded corridor surrounding the hall. Even considering Spencer’s character, he has to admit that the circumstances definitely look like he was gearing up for a fight, and everyone knows that he is not the kind of person who could hold his own against an ex-military man who chases down criminals for a living.

“You’re… not fighting him,” Derek says hesitantly, the puzzle pieces clearly falling into place for him.

Spencer shakes his head minutely, and is only thankful when Luke inches closer and wraps an arm around him. After all, he has nothing more to lose.

“You were looking at him, not her,” Derek continues slowly.

Spencer nods, unable to meet the eyes of any of the three friends standing in front of him.

“You’re dating him,” he says, still sounding shocked, his voice almost entirely numb. “You’re gay.”

“Or bisexual,” Tara offers, and Spencer takes a little comfort in the fact that she doesn’t sound shocked or upset, her voice warm and helpful. He tries to meet her eye, but he can’t work up the courage and buries closer into Luke’s embrace instead.

“Gay,” he whispers.

“Spence,” JJ says quietly, earnestly, “why didn’t you tell us?”

It’s too much to go into right now, too convoluted and long of a story for him to explain when even choking out a single syllable takes a herculean effort, so he shrugs instead.

“We were talking all night assuming you were interested in a woman,” Derek says numbly, more to himself than anything, but Spencer watches out of the corner of his eye as he shakes off the shock and comes back to himself, slowly putting more of the puzzle together as he looks at Spencer. “That’s why you didn’t tell us. We’ve been making assumptions all this time and hurting you in the process.”

“Oh, Spence,” JJ whispers sadly, stepping a little closer.

“I’m so sorry, pretty boy, I— I should’ve known or tried to be more inclusive at least, I’m so sorry I made you feel like this.”

The regret in his friends’ voices and the absence of a negative reaction brings him out of the safety of Luke’s arms slightly. His boyfriend is eyeing him with serious concern, and he tries a smile to reassure him a little, squeezing his hand.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” he manages, clearing his throat awkwardly as he finally succeeds in making eye contact. “It’s a long story and I’ll tell you another time, but, uh​​— this is Luke. We’ve been together for eight months, two weeks, and four days.”

Luke smiles fondly. “As much as we didn’t expect to reveal it like this, it’s nice to meet all of you properly,” Luke says warmly, shaking everyone’s hands quickly before stepping back to Spencer and interlocking their fingers, pressing a quick but meaningful kiss to his temple.

“I’m really glad you felt able to share this with us, Spence,” Tara says encouragingly, smiling at him in that bright, reassuring way of hers that rivals Penelope in the warmth and comfort it radiates. “I’m proud of you.”

Something about her reaction this entire time has him wondering whether she already knew. He’ll ask her later when he feels less like his heart is still firmly lodged in his throat.

“Me too, kid,” Derek agrees, smiling as well. Spencer wonders whether the initial shock and numb reaction was more a response to his own behaviour than anything about him and Luke, and the thought makes him feel substantially better.

JJ grins, stepping forward and grabbing Spencer’s other hand. “Me three.”

Before anyone can say anything else, the doors are opening again and Penelope is flying through them.

“Oh! Thank god you’re all okay! You just ran off after Spencer and I left you guys to it because I thought you could handle it better than I could but then you didn’t come back and even Hotch was worried, and—” she cuts herself off as she realises everyone staring at her, and slowly she takes in the scene around her. “Oh my god, I’ve missed something. Oh my god, I missed a moment, didn’t I? What have I told you guys about having moments without me? Someone tell me what happened, please, before I explode—”

“Alright, Penelope,” Spencer chuckles, interrupting her. He’s known her for too long to expect her to cut herself off when she’s on a tirade like that. “Uh, this is Luke. My boyfriend.”

“Your… your boyfriend? Oh my god, I finally get to meet him? Wait you told the others? Oh my god I’ve missed so much!”

“Penelope knew?” Derek asks, surprised.

“Half of mine and Spencer’s mutual friends are FBI Agents, and the other half are drag queens, of course I knew,” Penelope dismisses him, “but he wasn’t ready for me to meet his boyfriend yet or even know his name and I very nicely did not go hunting to find him out because I could’ve done that, but I didn’t, because I value you so much as a friend, Spencer, and I’m so glad you finally—”

“Penelope!” Spencer interjects, laughing even more as the tension and distress he’d felt only minutes ago finally melts away fully. “Do you actually want to introduce yourself to Luke, or do you want to keep rambling about drag queens?”

“Right! Yes!” she says eagerly, turning to Luke. “I’m Penelope and it is so nice to meet you, like you don’t even know how much I’ve wanted to meet the man who has my blueberry muffin blushing bright pink in the corner of my batcave while he texts on the phone, and I know you call him carinõ because I saw a text once and it’s the sweetest nickname ever, you are just the cutest, and we are going to be best friends—”

Spencer rests his head on Luke’s shoulder as he listens fondly to Penelope rambling and his friends chatting amongst themselves and everyone getting to know the most important man in his life — the only man he’s ever wanted anything long term with, the only man he’s ever wanted to actually marry one day — and a warm, sweet feeling of contentment floods his chest.

It’s far from the way he thought he’d feel after the team found about Luke, and he savours it, holds it in his mouth for as long as he can before swallowing the memory and filing it away to treasure forever. A moment like this deserves that kind of reverence.

“How are you feeling about tonight?” Luke asks gently as they crawl into bed, tired but happy at gone 2am. He pulls Spencer into his side as soon as they’re under the duvet, resting his chin on his head as he always does.

Moments like these make Spencer smile, the kind of familiar routine that’s so essential to their relationship. Luke had figured out early on that close physical contact and firm touches make him feel safe and settle his racing mind, so they’d worked out positions that made them both feel comfortable, and now relaxing into them is second nature.

“A bit weird,” Spencer admits after thinking for a moment. “I’m happy that they know now and everyone took it well, but it’s strange. A significant part of who I am has been not only that I’m gay, but the dedication I felt to protecting that secret. And now that it’s out, it feels like something private has been bared for my friends to inspect.”

“I think that’s only natural,” Luke muses quietly, pressing a kiss to Spencer’s curls. “It’ll take some getting used to, but you’ll adjust eventually.”

Spencer sighs. “Yeah, you’re right. After I tackle telling Hotch and Rossi, it’ll be nice not to have to hide it. I’ll be able to talk about you at work and maybe even go crazy and put a photo of you on my desk.”

“Wow, that is wild, check you out,” Luke chuckles, before they settle into a comfortable silence in the warm glow of their bedroom. Eventually, he speaks up though, quiet and reverent. “I’m proud of you, carinõ. I really am.”

The words instantly make Spencer smile, a light blush tinging his ears again. He hides his face in Luke’s chest, scooching impossibly closer into his arms. “I love you,” he whispers.

“I love you, too, Spencer,” Luke replies, a happy sigh in his voice.

He reaches over and turns off the bedside lamp. His hand returns to Spencer’s hair and something clicks into place somewhere, a fundamental alignment of the universe that brings a feeling of something so incredibly right as their breathing rhythmically matches to one another and they slide into the welcome embrace of sleep.

I hope you enjoyed that! I had a lot of fun with this one. If anyone has any more ralvez relationship reveal prompts, feel free to send them my way!

Taglist: @criminalmindsvibez @suburban--gothic @strippersenseii @takeyourleap-of-faith @makaylajadewrites @iamrenstark @hotchseyebrows @reidology @spencerspecifics @tobias-hankel @marsjareau @hotchscotchh @oliverbrnch @im-autistic @thataveragenerd @anxious-enby @kuolonsyoja @ropoto @cmily @nudgerox @love-pyramus @notevanbuckley @downwiththedoorpoole @nomajdetective (Add yourself to my taglist here!)

[therenlover]

Therenlover’s Official Fanfic Glossary!

Hey hey hey! This is the place where you can find all my up-to-date fanfics linked nicely, read about what projects I have upcoming, and learn what requests I’m taking at the moment! Cheers!

This post is massive so, for the sake of your dash, everything is under the cut

A NOTE ABOUT REQUESTS!

I will do my best to fulfill any requests I get while my ask box/requests are open! That being said, I cannot promise every request will get done, and that if they do, they’ll be done in a timely manner. I’m currently working on a long-form project that needs a lot of time and energy to come out consistently, so unless I’m doing a writing event most of my writing juice will be focused on that. That being said, if you want something ask! The worst I can possibly do is direct you towards someone else who might be able to write what you want if I cant.

If I choose not to do your request based on personal preference (it makes me uncomfy/I don’t write for the character at that time/I don’t feel I can write what you want/etc.) I will do my best to contact you and let you know! That being said, if you think your ask got buried/forgotten, feel free to message me again and let me know, but please tell me when you message me if I should be looking for a prior request.

Characters/Fandoms I will write for currently

 💙 = I’m Currently Super Inspired To Write For This Character

Marvel/X-Men

Bucky Barnes

Loki

Peter Maximoff 💙

Pietro Maximoff

Helmut Zemo 💙

Hank McCoy

Ralph Bohner 💙

Vision

American Horror Story

Tate Langdon

Kit Walker 💙

Kyle Spencer (Pre- and Post- Death)

Jimmy Darling 💙

James Patrick March 💙

Kai Anderson

Fallout 4

Nick Valentine

Hancock

Star Wars

Poe Dameron

Armitage Hux 💙

Kylo Ren/Ben Solo

Finn

Han Solo

Assorted/Random

Diarmuid Ua Duibhne - FGO

Cu Chulainn/Cu Alter - FGO

Warren Lipka - American Animals 💙

Enjolras - Les Miserables

Grantaire - Les Miserables

Gabriel - Supernatural

Imagines - REQUESTS CLOSED

Songs From Musicals Y/N Would Sing To The Evans

Characters: Tate Langdon, Kit Walker, Kyle Spencer, Jimmy Darling, James Patrick March, Kai Anderson, Peter Maximoff

Rating: T

How The Evans (+ Quicksilver) Would React To Yoplait’s New Gushers Yogurt

Characters: Tate Langdon, Kit Walker, Kyle Spencer, Jimmy Darling, James Patrick March, Rory Monahan, Kai Anderson, Peter Maximoff

Rating: T

Would The Danny Bunch Survive A Holiday With My Family?

Characters: Laszlo Kreizler, Alex Kerner, Niki Lauda, Andrea Marowski, Ernst Schmidt, Helmut Zemo

Rating: T

Headcanons - REQUESTS CLOSED

Modern! AU Armitage Hux Boyfriend Headcanons

Zemo With A Well Dress S/O Headcanons

Zemo Getting Jealous Headcanons

Oneshots - REQUESTS CLOSED

Marvel/X-Men

Helmut Zemo

One Last Night In Madripoor

Synopsis: Baron Helmut Zemo is a lonely, wanted man looking for some fun, you’re a piss-poor bounty hunter in search of a connection before leaving your life of crime behind, and fate has brought you together at a party the likes of which has never been seen before. You only have one night left in Madripoor, so why not take a chance?

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 4200~

Still Some Catching Up To Do

Synopsis: As a member of the criminal underworld, people walk out of your life all the time. Some are killed, others kill themselves, most get caught and only a couple get out of the life unscathed, disappearing into the world never to be seen again. Very few walk back in. So when your supposedly incarcerated ex-lover, the Winter Soldier, and the Falcon waltzed through your door and made you murder your boss, needless to say, you were surprised and more than a little bit pissed.

Rating: 16+

Word Count: 6800~

Nine Years Starved

Synopsis: It had been a little over nine years since Helmut Zemo lost his family, his country, and his sanity. Nine years since his last kiss. Nine years since he felt like a human man. Finally, he was ready to start over again, but first, he had to pay his penance back where it all began; Novi Grad. That’s when, by the grace of the fates, he met you.

Rating: G

Word Count: 7000~

Daddy Dearest

Synopsis: Not everyone gets lucky enough to go from being a broke college student in New York to being the sugar baby to literal royalty, but not everyone is you. Most people would be worried about messing things up or losing him to someone else, but you knew he would never find another baby just like you. Besides, you knew exactly what to do to keep him wrapped around your little finger. He may have been the daddy, but you pulled the reins.

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 8000~

In Fleeting Touches & Airy Sighs

Part One   Part Two   Part Three   Part Four

Synopsis: As a wanted man, Helmut Zemo spends most of his time jumping from place to place in the hopes of avoiding a trip back to prison. Unfortunately, that means he can’t always be home in your arms. When he is, though, in the rare moments of calm, you’re reminded of just how worth it it’s been to wait, even if that wait was only shortened by the arrival of your enemies.

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 35,700~

Two Bodies In The Rain

Synopsis: It was raining the day you finally had to admit your feelings to Helmut. You hated to tell him the way you did, under the grey skies as your blood pooled below you, but at least you knew, in the end, he had seen the real you, even just once. That was enough.

Rating: T

Word Count: 5600~

Rest

Synopsis: Living life on the lam with your escaped super-villain lover means things rarely slow down enough for a real rest. When the exhaustion starts to take its toll on you, though, he knows exactly what to do to ease the pain. He may not be a good man, but he’s a good husband when it counts.

Rating: T

Word Count: 3200~

American Horror Story

Jimmy Darling

Red Nights In Jupiter

Synopsis: At the end of another long day, you fall into bed with Jimmy Darling. The men you served throughout the day don’t matter then, nor do the coins in the mason jar by the door, or the women scheduled to attend Jimmy’s next Tupperware party. No, in that quiet darkness it’s just you and the man you love, bone-tired and happy to be home. Who could ask for more?

Rating: 16+

Word Count: 3000~

James Patrick March

Heartsick

Synopsis: When you fall ill, James is given a forceful awakening about how he’s been neglecting your needs and what he must do to prevent harm from befalling you again.

Rating: 16+

Word Count: 3700~

In Sickness And In Health

Synopsis: Normally people don’t have their wedding and funeral on the same day, but you and James don’t quite have a normal relationship, do you? Besides, you wouldn’t wanna go any other way.

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 5500~

Fallout 4

Currently Empty

Star Wars

Currently Empty

Assorted/Random

Currently Empty

Long Form Works/Series

Young Artist!Zemo AU

Chapter One: The Boy With The Easel

Synopsis: About a month into your first semester at Novi Grad’s top university, you finally meet the strange young man that you’ve taken to calling “easel boy” in the back of a bookshop. From a distance, he always seemed cold and aloof. As you get to know him, though, you realize things aren’t always what they seem.

Rating: T

Word Count: 7000~

Till Forever Falls Apart (A Peter Maximoff/Reader Series)

Chapter One: Welcome Home

Synopsis: As if getting thrown through the multiverse, trapped in an attic (albeit a cool one), mind-controlled to manipulate his grieving sister, and subsequently dragged out of Westview “for his own safety” by the FBI wasn’t enough, Peter Maximoff has now been shipped off to New York to live with a glorified baby sitter like some tragic orphan in a comic book until they find a way to get him back home. Things are not always as they seem, though, and this change might just be for the better.

Rating: T

Word Count: 2400~

Chapter Two: The Doctor Is In

Synopsis: Peter’s first few days in his new home are mostly uneventful, so he decides it’s the perfect time to dust off his running goggles and steal some shit. The building with the massive circular stained glass window seems like a great place to start! People with buildings that lavish are usually rich and weak, so what could possibly go wrong?

Rating: T

Word Count: 2800~

Chapter Three: It’s Always Been You

Synopsis: After a month of adapting to his new universe, Peter Maximoff can confidently say that he likes his new life more than his old one. Sure, he misses home sometimes, but he’s been far too busy flirting with his new roommate to spend time crying over the things he’s lost. Everything is smooth sailing until a strange journal in his roommate’s study leaves him with more questions than he knows what to do with. Now he’s on a mission to discover who he’s really living with before she has the chance to turn against him.

Rating: T

Word Count: 8600~

Chapter Four: Before You Go

Synopsis: Peter, after days of contemplation, has realized that part of him loves Y/N no matter what she is or what she’s been through. Unfortunately, he can’t find her anywhere. When she finally returns home with the intention of leaving again, Peter realizes it’s his last chance to tell her how he really feels. Will he succeed, or will he fail to be fast enough once again?

Rating: T

Word Count: 4000~

Chapter Four And A Half: Gimme Swayze

Synopsis: Now that the issue of Y/N leaving is out of the way, and Peter has finally kissed her, he falls into the motions of learning how to love someone for the first time. It’s easier than he thought it would be.

Rating: T

Word Count; 2600~

Cakes For The Evans: A Blogging And Baking Adventure!

Kai Anderson’s Disaster Cake

Hey you! If you’ve made it this far down the list, thanks for supporting me as an author! I’ll be linking my AO3 here. I post everything there shortly before I post it here, and there are some older fics there you might enjoy along the way! It’s also easier to drop comments over there and I keep them open for non-members, so give me a shout if you liked what I wrote!

I love you all, you make me so happy, and without you support I would never be motivated to write! Cheers!

[ohmygoodnessgraciouss]

could I request a story where Loki and the reader are both magic time variants captured by the TVA, and they become closer and plot to escape together, but even though the reader wants to help him they're afraid of getting too close or opening up about their past because in the past they had been really hurt by the alternate Loki in their timeline? I'm sorry that's very long, you don't have to write it if you don't want to I just love your work so much and Reality Check is so perfect :')

I'm sorry this took forever! Honestly, I should've just made this a whole miniseries to really flesh it out, but with MOM I wasn't sure if I wanted to dedicate all my time for that. Hope this is alright! <3

You watched the man before you smirk once he recognized who you were. "Y/N L/N, I never expected you to wind up here," He commented, scanning you. You scoffed, turning your head away to look at Mobius.

"You expect me to work with him?" You asked, pointing lazily. Mobius nodded.

"You two are the best of the best. He never seems to die and you have the ability to control him. Not many can say they can do that," He responded.

"I don't want to work with him," You replied, sharply.

"And why is that? I want a better explanation than he hurt your feelings a while ago," Mobius said. You rolled your eyes, knowing Loki must have grinned at his statement.

"No hard feelings, promise! I'm not the same Loki you knew after all," Loki said.

"No, but the sacred timeline forces it to be exactly the same. I know you haven't done it yet, but you will. Eventually. If you ever decide to stop being a little shit and go back to your timeline." You walked closer to Loki, trying to seem intimidating.

"Ouch," Loki winced, stepping forward, "I see Midgard taught you some vulgar language."

"Seemed only appropriate for a man who killed 80 people in a matter of two days," You suddenly realized how close you were to him, eyes widening as you backed off. Loki rose an eyebrow at this.

Mobius chuckled. "This is going to be interesting."

~

"I need you two to go to a small town in Oklahoma from a few hundred years ago to inspect something," Mobius said, pulling up a file on the desk in front of you. You sat next to Loki (Though it was not willingly) and waited impatiently to hear more about the mission.

"Oklahoma?" Loki questioned.

"It's on Midgard. It's a lot of farmland. Prone to tornadoes." You briefly stated.

"Seems like you know the place quite well."

"I lived there for a while. Until the TVA decided that I messed up something in their precious timeline. I mean, really. Do you guys think another war would happen when most people don't even know this place exists?!"

Mobius chuckled. "See, that's why I like you. You're realistic. But, unfortunately, rules are rules, and the timekeepers aren't ones for breaking tradition."

You shook your head in response, leaning back in the chair. Loki leaned forward towards the desk to get a better look at the file. It had several reports scattered across it, all describing the deaths of several minutemen from the T.V.A. "What happened?" He asked.

"Someone supposedly time traveled to the 1800s and broke the timeline. When our minutemen arrived at the scene, they set fire to the surrounding grasses and burned them all to crisps. We suspect the variant is another timeline's you, Loki." Mobius explained, showing several photos of the scene.

Your eyes widened. "Another timeline of him is running rampant and you imbeciles can't catch them?" You asked.

Mobius shook his head. "Loki is hard to catch. This one," He pointed to the man before him, "Not so much. The other one? Different story."

"And you expect us to just find Loki and bring them back?" You asked, leaning your head against your hand.

"It's either that or being reset by the woman who wants your heads on a silver platter."

Both you and Loki looked at each other for a brief moment, nodding slightly. Looking back at Mobius, you spoke at the same time.

"We'll do it."

~

You arrived in Oklahoma with Loki, taking a look at the burned farmland around you. Several bodies laid around the area, their weapons scattered. "God, these men didn't stand a chance," You said, crouching down to take a closer look.

"And neither do we if we can't find a trace of myself," Loki replied. He used his magic to trace where the fire started. "Over there," He pointed.

You looked over, seeing nothing special. "Looks just like everywhere else," You said.

"No, it's an illusion. I must have cast an illusion to make sure only those with magic would be able to find it. Or, well, another me did it. Why would he have done that though?" Loki asked, contemplating it for a moment. You walked up to him, showing him the collar and remote you had stolen from the agency only moments before arriving in Oklahoma.

"If anything goes wrong when we see them, I've got backup."

Loki grinned. "You're always so dependable. That's why I love you." You knew it was a weak attempt to make you soft. You shook your head, walking away from him.

"Not the same Y/N you know."

"The Sacred Timeline makes you the same."

"The same to an extent, but for me you're in the past. A lot changes in the upcoming years." You mentioned.

"Oh come now, old feelings can't die that easily, can they?"

"No, but you sure can."

~

You made your way to the Loki pointed to. The spot seemed to be as burnt up as the rest until Loki unveiled the illusion. It didn't take much of his magic to lift it, probably because the universe recognized it as the same signature. When it was revealed, the area hadn't been burned by the fire at all. The grasses were tall, reaching up to your shoulders at times. One spot was completely flattened though, with a singular note on the ground.

You picked it up, unfolding the paper carefully. Loki stood directly behind you, looking over your shoulder. "What does it say?" He asked.

"Meet me where we once called home," You read it out loud. The note crumpled as you tightened your hold on it.

"What does that mean? Once called home?"

"It means this Loki is in fact my Loki."

"Please tell me I don't have any hard feelings that you clearly harbor for me."

"That depends on whether or not you forgive me for the incident."

Loki quirked an eyebrow at this. You shook your head. "Not here. Let's find a place to stay. I know where home is. We're not far from it."

"Then shouldn't we go there first?" He asked, placing a hand on your shoulder to ensure you didn't walk away. You shook your head.

"No, I can't go there yet. There's a lot to explain before you see Loki."

~

You found an inn close by and decided to rest there. Because it was the 1800s you had to be careful about what you did. In a different century they wouldn't have minded you being in a TVA shirt and jeans. Now, they would.

Luckily for you, Loki was able to cast an illusion so that only you two knew what you were wearing. He even had to cast an illusion on himself to blend in more. He used fake currency to buy the room, which was about as small and cramped as you expected.

With only candles to light the room, it would've been considered quaint and cozy by most. A single bed with comforters, a drawer and chest, and a small desk. It was all you needed for your journey after all.

You sat down at the desk as Loki sat on the bed, feeling the comforter. "Softer than I expected," He commented.

"You lived through the 19th century, you should know it wasn't as bad as history books make it out to be."

He nodded in response, relaxing slightly. "Well? You said you would explain it to me. I should know what's going on before we go face off against myself."

You sighed, fiddling with a pen you had found in your shirt pocket. "Time travel isn't as uncommon as people may think. You and I both know that."

"Of course. You've time traveled a few times yourself."

"Exactly. Well, in my timeline, after the events in New York in 2012, you went to prison in Asgard and were eventually freed during the Dark Elves attack."

"I know what happens there," He said, sharply. You knew he must've known what happened to his mother.

You looked down at your hand, placing the pen down on the desk. "Well, you know what happens in the Sacred Timeline. Remember, you're a variant in this timeline too. In this timeline, you ended up going back to the 1800s, to this time."

"Why would I do that?" He tilted his head.

"To see me."

"What were you doing in this time?"

"I was running. I got into some nasty trouble with not only the Avengers but the federal government as well. It was just easier to go back to a time where I wouldn't have to worry about it. Plus, I didn't know what I was doing, so I wanted to hang out in a place where I knew I would never run into myself. I didn't account for you finding out." You sighed, fiddling with your fingers.

"And what happens after that? We were just fine before I... Well," He hesitated, "Tried to take over Asgard and then Midgard," He said, sheepishly.

A soft smile graced your lips as you thought about what had happened next. "We shared a life together. We were married, secretly of course, but we were happy. We moved into an old farmhouse around here and decided we would start a family here. It was in the middle of nowhere. No one was going to find us after all. We could be happy here."

"What changed?" He asked, leaning in. He couldn't understand where it would've gone wrong.

"The T.V.A," A scowl corrupted your smile as you looked up at him for the first time in minutes. "We were variants. What happened between us should never have happened."

Loki shook his head. "I can't believe that's what divided us. What did they do?"

"You gave me a chance to escape. You kept them off me and I ran off. See, I ran off and you went into the T.V.A to be charged for your crimes. They were going to prune you. Unless you told them where I was," You scoffed.

"Did I?"

"You did. Because no matter what you would always do everything in your power to save your own skin. Even if it meant ratting me out when I was protecting the child we had just taken in." Your tone quickly turned to ice at the thought.

Loki stayed quiet at the revelation. He didn't know what to say. "What happened next?" He asked quietly.

You shrugged. "I went in, you got out. You were reset. I don't know how you became a variant again. I guess they couldn't wipe your memory if you were able to remember our home."

"I don't understand. I don't understand how I could do that," He said as he stood up from the bed, pacing the room.

"The version of you in this timeline is different. He changed after escaping. I just hadn't realized it until it was too late."

Loki stopped in his tracks suddenly, staring you dead in the eyes. "Is that why you're with the T.V.A? To get revenge?"

You nodded. "The T.V.A, while I despise them, are my one way of getting to him. I want to make sure the agency brings him in once and for all. I'll prune him myself if I have to. And then I'm out of there. I have a plan to escape."

"And what will you do after that?"

You looked out at the window, "Find my little girl, I suppose. Make sure she's okay."

"Then perhaps you would like a partner to join you," He grinned.

"No."

~

Making your way to the farmhouse, Loki decided to stay back a little. The plan was for you to make sure Loki was in a vulnerable state, giving you just enough time to alert the T.V.A. Then, your partner Loki could capture the criminal Loki using the collar and remote you brought. It wasn't much of a plan, but it was enough for you to feel comfortable facing off against him.

Loki stayed outside, watching from a patch of wildflowers that sat outside the house. They were your favorites.

The house was cold and creaking from weight and pressure it hadn't felt in years. It looked abandoned. No one must have moved in after you did. The sight sent shivers down your spine. All seemed quiet except for a single door opening across from you. There stood the man that ruined your life - Your version of him.

"Hello, darling," He greeted you, a small sheepish smile plastered on his face.

"Loki."

"I know these are probably not the circumstances you would've wanted for this-"

"Not the circumstances?" You interrupted harshly. "I never wanted this situation to ever happen. You're lucky I haven't tried to shoot you in the face with a magnum."

Loki raised his hands up in mock surrender. "What I had done was uncalled for."

"Uncalled for?! You exposed me which put our family in harm's way! I have no idea where Rose is! None!"

His expression softened at the mention of Rose. You knew it struck a chord in his heart. It had to. Rose was adopted just like he was. All he wanted was to be a better father to her than his own was. If he were a better person you may have cared about hitting a sensitive spot like this.

"That's unfair. I had no idea she would possibly be reset by them," He said.

"Oh come on! What else did you think would have happened?! They were after us and so they were after her too." You moved your finger slightly to the communicator in your jacket pocket, signaling for the T.V.A to arrive and for Loki to step in.

"I never meant for her to get hurt," He said, his voice shaking slightly.

"No, but you meant for me to get hurt."

"I never wanted either of you to get hurt. It's just that-"

"Just what?" You grit your teeth.

"I was scared. You know how I am. I'm a coward!"

"That's no excuse for what you've done," You glanced up, seeing your partner sneak up behind the man. He wrapped the collar around him and quickly backed away, holding the remote up.

"What are you doing?!" Variant Loki exclaimed.

"Getting justice. Revenge. Everything I've wanted for years from you," You glared at him. The other Loki smirked, proud of you for what you had done.

The minutemen from the T.V.A quickly stepped in, arresting Variant Loki as soon as possible. Mobius followed them, looking the man up and down. "So you're the one who's caused all this trouble. And all because of a girl you crumbled. Gotta admit, it's not a good look for you," He said. You nearly laughed. "Take him away."

The minutemen began to drag Variant Loki through the portals, though he didn't go through without one last word to you, "Y/N! I will get out of this!"

You scoffed. "Sure you will."

~

Mobius decided to allow you and Loki to stay behind, giving you a moment to examine the home around you. He trusted you two enough to have a few minutes of peace alone. "So what's the plan, love?" Loki asked.

"Mobius has given us this much. If we gain his trust for a little while longer then we'll be able to have far more time and perhaps even a way to travel through the multiverse on our own. I hate to say it, but I'll stick with the T.V.A a little while longer. The endgame is long-term here."

Loki nodded thoughtfully. "It's smart. But I'm smarter," He held his hand up, revealing one of the portal remotes in his hand. Your eyes widened.

"How did you get that?!"

"I stole it from one of the men as they went through. I'm sure they won't miss this, but if they find out we have this when we go back it won't be pretty," He said, walking up to you, grinning.

You stifled a laugh as you looked down at the remote in his hands. You shook your head looking back up at him. "You're insane."

"Perhaps I am," His grin widened, "But I know you want this as much as I do. So, what do you say?"

He held his empty hand out to you, waiting for your response. Instead of giving it a moment's hesitation, you held out your own, taking his.

And with that, you never looked back.

[spideyobsessed]

Before It’s Too Late Ch. 2

peter parker x avenger!reader

Synopsis: With all the life changing events taking place, will you ever get to overcome some of your biggest fears?

Might wanna read Ch. 1

You run and run and run until your legs nearly go numb. Bumping into people, tripping over your feet, the sounds of your heavy breathing getting louder and louder. There’s only one thought etching itself into your mind: Tony’s words.

If you got your powers from that thing, then I’m positive you can do a lot more.

A lot more.

Why now? After years of having these abilities, why now? It’s almost like the words he spoke yesterday were a trigger and now they’ve awaken something that’s been dormant inside of you.

I heal and that’s it. I heal and that’s it. This can’t be happening right now.

You finally take a right down an alleyway and slow down to a stop. No words can be strung together to perfectly describe the sensation you’re feeling. It isn’t painful, but you ache. Energy is surging through your veins, but you feel like you need to lay down and rest. You feel anxious, but if the circumstances were different, you can find this quite enjoyable. It’s confusing.

You sit down right next to a dumpster and bring your knees up to your chest, fighting the urge to let out a gut wrenching scream. You can feel something inside of you bubbling up and growing stronger. It’s a tight feeling, like your body is a champagne bottle and the cork is going to skyrocket any minute now. For a brief moment, you come to the conclusion that you are literally going to explode and accept your fate.

...you can do a lot more.

Your hands cover your ears, your thoughts ultimately becoming too loud for you to endure. It’s like all of your senses are heightening, yet numbing all at once. You can’t pull it together. Your face scrunches up as you unintentionally hold your breath. Useless.

Involuntarily, you let out a cry that you’re sure can be heard throughout all of Queens. You feel your body jerk harshly three times before, all at once, everything stops.

A breath of relief escapes your lips as you finally relax your tense body, but the anxiety remains. Nothing new. Your entire physique feels tingly. Too fatigue to immediately spring into action, you remain sitting in your spot.

After a few moments, you take in your surroundings. The alley, although it was noticeably trashed when you entered, looks horrendous. The dumpster is about three feet away from you now. The windows in surrounding buildings are shattered. Several car alarms are blaring.

“What just happened to me?”

- - - - -

“You better keep your little girlfriend in check, Parker.” Flash threatens Peter before purposely bumping into him.

Unfazed by him, Peter turns his attention to Gwen. “Uh, is she..” He trails off.

“Yeah, she’s fine! I should still go check on her though. Best friend duties, ya know?” Gwen chuckles awkwardly.

Ned speaks up, “I totally get that. Being the superior friend comes with a lot of responsibilities.”

Peter furrows his eyebrows before shooting a look at his best friend, who is supposedly superior to him. “Don’t act like you didn’t know.” Ned says simply, earning a laugh from Peter.

“Exactly! So I gotta go.” Gwen says as she tries to walk away from the dorky pair.

“Can I come with you? I’d like to check on her, if that’s okay.” Peter asks.

If this were any other time, Gwen would’ve agreed before he even finished his sentence. She’s been rooting for you and Peter from the start, along with several other people, considering you two have made your feelings for each other extremely obvious to every except each other. It warms her heart to see your crush of four years finally getting the courage to get to know you.

However, having seen your hands radiating that familiar glow with her own eyes, she has to lie.

“You actually can’t b-because she’s just...on her period?” She lies horribly, but it’s perfect enough to fool two young men.

Peter immediately backs off, understanding that it’s not really his department of expertise. “Yeah I think you got this. Tell her I’ll text her later please?”

“Gotcha. Bye guys!” She waves at them before fast walking in the direction you went.

The two boys stay in place, as quiet as they’ve ever been. Both of them are obviously thinking the exact same thing. They don’t even have to say it out loud, but of course, they do anyway.

“Dude.”

“I know.”

“DUDE!”

“I KNOW!!”

They giggle together happily as they do their signature handshake before sharing a celebratory hug.

“She’s so into you!” Ned cheers when he pulls apart from his best friend.

“Do you really think so?” Peter questions, “That could’ve been strictly platonic.”

“Trust me, man. It wasn’t! She’s practically in love with you!” Ned over exaggerates, but he wasn’t wrong.

Peter doesn’t respond to his comment, but instead looks down at the ground and smiles to himself. “

‘Does she actually like me?’ He thinks.

The short events of today made him even more excited for the party tomorrow. Although he’s nervous and still very doubtful about your feelings for him, he planned on confessing his feelings for you at the party.

Ned continues to ramble on about “the birds and the bees”, (Peter doesn’t even know how he got to that topic), when suddenly chills plaster Peter’s body. He lifts up his arm and sees that every single hair is reaching straight up.

“Spidey sense. So cool.” Ned chuckles.

“Not cool. That means something is wrong, Ned.” Peter states as he begins to let his legs carry him to wherever feels right. Coincidentally, it’s in the direction Gwen just went.

As he rounds the corner, just as you and Gwen did minutes before, he spots the blonde girl standing in the doorway of the girls’ restroom. Before he can even get halfway to her, he watches as you make a beeline for the nearest exit of the school.

“I thought you said she was fine.” Peter says, strolling up next to Gwen.

“I thought you said I got this.” She quickly retorts, hoping he didn’t see your hands or eyes.

“Yeah, well look how that went.” He responds back.

He takes a few steps to walk after you, but comes to an instant halt. Peter turns on his heels and walks back up to Gwen.

“I’m sorry, that was sort of rude.” He apologizes sincerely. He looks back at the door you stormed out of and back at Gwen once more, “I’m just worried about her. Something is telling me to go check on her.”

He lightly jogs to the exit before Gwen can spit out another lie to protect you. Peter pushes the door open with determination, the cool wind breezing against his face. His head snaps left and right, looking for any sign of you.

A group of girls chatting.

Someone rushing through their homework.

A guy skating across campus.

“There she is.” Peter mumbles when he finally spots you.

He’s able to take one step before being yanked backwards by his backpack.

“Leaving so soon, Mr. Parker? It’s not even lunch yet.” He hears the voice of his principal.

“Uhh I have gym class next. I was just going to get a head start on my mile.” Peter lies through his teeth with a sheepish grin.

He might be good at fighting crime and protecting his neighborhood, but if there’s one thing Peter can’t do to save his life, it’s lie.

The principal obviously saw right through him and chuckled dryly. With a firm grip still on his backpack, Peter gets walked back into the hallways of his school. His principal even takes it upon himself to watch the young boy walk into his next class, earning laughs and taunts from Mj.

- - - - -

It was only a few minutes into physics whenever Peter’s senses started sounding off alarms in his head again. His eyes scan the classroom, every student with their heads down and focused on their work. He glances at the teacher, who is steadily typing away at her laptop.

“Psst. Ned!”

Ned, who is sitting directly in front of him, turns around, surely prepared to make some outlandish comment. However, upon seeing the worry on his friend’s face, he decides against it.

“Spidey sense?” Ned asks simply.

Peter frantically nods his head, “I’m almost positive it’s Y/n. It feels different. It feels the same way it did whenever I thought she was being followed.”

He takes one more anxious glance around the classroom to make sure none of his classmates were eavesdropping.

“I need you to create a distraction.”

Ned gives him a single nod before swiveling his seat back to its prior position. He obnoxiously clears his throat, “Uh ma’am, I think there’s a mistake on this paper. Here let me show you.” He rises from his seat and as soon as he does, everyone hears a mysterious low rumble.

Peter and Ned make eye contact, knowing that it’s already too late. Whatever Peter was being warned about is already happening. Without a single notice, the entire school is shook by a harsh vibration.

Boom

The students begin to talk amongst themselves worriedly before another vibration strikes. Panicked yelps scattering all around the classroom.

Boom

“Everyone stay calm. There’s no need to get worked up.” The teacher attempts to calm the students, despite sounding panicked herself.

If every fiber in Peter wasn’t going haywire already, there’s no doubt that they are now. It’s almost like he can felt the movements before they happen. He flies out of his chair and peers out the window.

He’s not sure if what he’s witnessing can be seen by everyone or if it’s just his heightened senses. “What the hell is that?” He mumbles to himself.

Peter watches as a violent ray of purple aura heads straight for them, everything in its way viciously convulsing. His heart rate quickens as he turns to face his classmates.

“Everybody get down!” He shouts, the people surrounding him do not waste a second to fling themselves onto the floor.

Peter grabs a hold of Ned and together they hit the deck just in time.

Boom!

A purple wave is washed over them, shattering the large windows in the process. Glass flies everywhere as the terrified shrieks of each individual fills the air.

The wave left just as quick as it came. Peter and Ned are the firsts to pop up from the ground, breathing heavily with shaky limbs. They look out of the broken window and are absolutely astonished by the amount of destruction that was caused in such little time.

“Still think it’s Y/n?” Ned chuckles in amazement.

Peter doesn’t answer because at this point he doesn’t know what to think. He definitely doesn’t want to rule it out. Whether it was you or not, he can only hope that you’re okay...wherever you are.

“Okay ladies and gentlemen, we need to evacuate now! Get on your feet and start calling your parents, we need to move!” The teacher instructs.

Everyone hurriedly follows in pursuit.

- - - - -

You let out a groan as you slowly pick yourself up from the floor of the dirty alleyway. Aside from being a little lightheaded and having a slight sharp pain on your side, you’re feeling 100 times better.

You dust yourself off, taking another look around as you do so.

Okay. Maybe that stone isn’t amethyst after all. You admit to yourself.

A dry cough erupts from your throat as you begin to walk to... well you don’t know where you’re going. You don’t want to go home yet, just in case an episode like this happens again. You wouldn’t want to put Alice in danger.

Just as you exit the dimly lit backstreet, an old man with thinning white hair and a white mustache to match it speed walks over to you.

“It’s the damn aliens!” He shouts as he whips out a tinfoil hat.

Where did he get that from??

“It’s the aliens, I say! They’ve finally arrived!” The man continues to yell as he carries on.

He wasn’t the only one in a frenzy. Everyone roamed the streets talking to one another. Theorizing what great threat they think has struck New York now, complaining about their vehicles, using some pretty strong language.

The pit of anxiety residing in your stomach quickly turns to guilt. You’re fully aware that you couldn’t control your actions, but it doesn’t change the fact that you still caused all of this damage. The further you walk, the guiltier you begin to feel.

How far did it reach?

You thought you only affected a block or two at most, but now you are starting to believe you victimized the entire city.

“Kid!” You hear a familiar voice.

You snap your head to the left and see a black vehicle with tinted windows. In the backseat sits none other than Tony Stark.

“You are in huge trouble. Amethyst crystal my ass.” He scolds.

The door pops open, “Get in.”

Not having the energy to argue back, you slide yourself into the car.

“I didn’t do it on purpose.” you clarify.

“Well I sure hope not. Happy, to the tower.”

The drive wasn’t long, only about 20 minutes, but the silence made it feel like hours. You’ve tried apologizing multiple times, but every single time you were dismissed by the lift of a hand.

Once in the tower, you didn’t even have time to look around in wonder at all the high tech features of the place. You were put in a room with Tony sitting directly in front of you. His eyebrows are furrowed, eyes focused on you, and his leg is bouncing so fast he could drill a hole in the ground. He still has yet to speak a single word.

You open your mouth to say something, but your phone begins to vibrate. Instead of answering, you freeze, not wanting to make Stark even more upset, if that’s possible. You also don’t want to see all the angry texts from Aunt Alice.

“You gonna get that?” Tony questions.

“Oh, he speaks.” You attempt to make a joke, but you’re the only one laughing.

Your smile falters as you take your phone out of your pocket to see who’s calling. Peter.

The smile returns once you lay eyes on the goofy contact picture he took on your phone. As much as you want to answer, you figured it would be better to wait for another time. It would be sort of hard to explain everything. Especially while Tony is shooting daggers into your head.

You take a swift scroll through your texts.

Gwen: That was so cool and kinda scary at the same time! Was that you??

Peter: Hey! Don’t mean to bother, I just wanna check up on you. Sorry I say that a lot haha.

Peter: Text me back when you’re feeling better. I hope you’re okay!

Alice: Y/n, you NEED to call me back. NOW!

Alice: You’re not in trouble, I just need to know if you’re safe.

Peter: I also want to say thank you for standing up to Flash for me. Even though I totally could’ve taken him myself! Okay okay, sorry for triple texting!

You send Alice a simple message back just to ease her nerves and not ground you before locking your phone.

You look up to see Tony still staring at you quite intensely. If you didn’t know any better, you could’ve sworn he hasn’t blinked yet. You clear your throat.

“Look, Mr. Stark, I really didn’t mean for-“

He cuts you off, “No no no, it doesn’t matter if you meant it or not. That’s not going to reverse what you just did!”

His tone of voice makes your heart shudder, the guilt you were feeling from earlier returning. You decide not to talk again unless he tells you to.

Stark runs a hand through his hair in frustration before cradling his left hand as he pushes himself out of his seat.

“I know you couldn’t control it.” His tone is softer now. “It’s not fair for me to take my anger out on you, I’m sorry.”

You still don’t dare to say another word. He sighs and walks over to the window that has a perfect view of the city.

“I’m not really angry. I’m just...scared.” Tony admits.

This is not the man you’ve been seeing all over the news for years. Tony Stark has never been one to be so vulnerable and open about his feelings. Or anything for that matter. You sure as hell didn’t expect a superhero to ever get scared, much less admit it to someone he barely met yesterday.

“Scared of what?” You ask quietly.

He turns and makes eye contact with you once again, but this time you don’t feel like he’s ready to attack. There’s a beat of contemplation coming from him before he says, “The little outburst you had might’ve sent a signal to a really bad guy. A really bad, really powerful guy. His intentions aren’t the best, and it won’t be long until he comes here.”

You blink a couple of times trying to process what he’s telling you. If an avenger is this scared of some “guy”, then you really have a situation on your hands.

“He’s coming for me?” You squeak.

Tony returns to his seat in front of you, “Not technically. But he will be coming for the stone that you have locked away in a desk drawer.”

“So if I’m in the way...”

“He won’t be afraid to move you.” Stark affirms.

You sink down in your chair, taking it all in. How has your life completely flipped upside in just two days. Two days! Just as you might finally get a chance with Peter after crushing on him for so long, you possibly just devastated the entire city. Maybe the entire country. Maybe the planet. You don’t really know how bad it is, but you feel too sick to your stomach to bother asking.

“How long until this dude gets here.” You ask.

Tony snorts at your usage of the word “dude” when describing someone who has destroyed multiple planets, but of course, you don’t know that yet.

“Our very own time telling wizard gives us about a week. A week and a half, if we’re lucky.” He answers.

“Great.” You sigh as you pinch the bridge of your nose.

You take a look at Tony, who sends you a sympathetic smile. You return a defeated one, tears burning at the corner of your eyes.

“We’re not going down without a fight, kid. That’s the one thing I can promise you.” He says sincerely, trying to make you feel better.

Although you appreciate the sentiment, you don’t respond in fear that the lump in your throat will make your voice crack. Instead you change the subject.

“Why do you keep nursing your arm like it’s a defenseless baby goat?” You ask, earning a hearty laugh from the man in front of you.

“Well after 10 years of being one of earth’s mightiest heroes, you’re gonna walk away with some battle scars.” Tony explains.

You let out a light chuckle, almost forgetting exactly who you’re talking to. With a smirk on your face, you stand on your feet and walk towards him, “May I?”

He scoffs and gives you a strange look, but nonetheless, offers his hand. You take it with both of yours and close your eyes. It isn’t long until you feel the warmth of your energy flowing through your veins and to your palms. Tony watches in amazement as his hand is engulfed by the same sensation that shook the city just hours ago.

You finally let go and open your eyes just in time to see the dumbfounded look on his face. He closes his hand into a fist, and then opens it as he wiggles his fingers around.

“Who’s the happy fingers now?” You tease. “I can’t heal 10 years of injury after injury in one sitting, but it should feel a little better now.”

Tony is still shocked beyond belief. All he can do is let out small breathy chuckles and stare at this hand that’s nearly good as new.

“Y/n.” He manages to say.

You’re shocked to hear him say your actual name. Weirded out even.

Stark finally puts down his hand and gives you a look of astonishment.

“How would you like to be an avenger?”

Your eyes widen and your jaw drops. Tony Stark, aka IRONMAN, wants you to be an avenger. After you’ve wrecked miles and miles of property, he’s asking you to be an avenger?!

“What? I mean...w-what?!” You let out an incredulous laugh. “You want me to- even after every- I can’t..I-I..” All you can do is stammer.

“Well don’t say yes too quick” Stark rolls his eyes.

“Sorry, I’m sorry! It’s just that I didn’t even know the avengers were a thing anymore. I also don’t know the first thing about being a superhero. All I do is heal tiny animals and cure hangovers.” You ramble.

Tony stands whiles still wiggling his hand around, enjoying the extra mobility it suddenly has. “And if you can do what you did today in a more controlled manner, you’ll be unstoppable. A bit of combat training wouldn’t hurt either.”

You think it over in your head. What he’s saying makes a lot of sense. You still don’t know what happened to you today, and you’d love nothing more than to figure it out. Tony is the perfect person to help with that.

Being an avenger is a lot of pressure though. Only a week and a half to train and fight some “really bad, really powerful guy”? It’s impossible. You’d be way over your head. You would get yourself killed.

“I know it’s a lot to take in.” Stark saying, practically reading your mind. “But I believe you can do it, and I’m never wrong. Scratch Saturday, you’re coming in tomorrow for immediate testing and training. Expect to be here all day.” He orders, returning back to his assertive persona.

All day tomorrow?

“I actually can’t tomorrow, Mr. Stark sir.” You say a little under your breath.

“You what now?” Tony stops in his tracks.

“I-I can’t come tomorrow. I’m going to a party, I sorta have a date.” You explain, getting quieter and quieter after hearing how pathetic you sound.

It’s his turn to laugh incredulously, “Yeah, sweet cheeks, and the world is sorta in immortal danger. I’ll let Happy know he needs to take you home and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You don’t bother trying to protest or be a smart ass because he makes a very valid point. “See you tomorrow.” you say, mostly to yourself.

- - - - -

Three knocks echo from your bedroom door as you sit at your desk doing some chemistry homework.

“Hey hun! I brought oranges slices.” Your Aunt Alice shuffles past the doorframe. As she comes closer, the brightest smile on her face, You notice she made a smiley face on the plate full of poorly cut oranges.

You let out a giggle and set down your pencil, “Thank you Ali, they look great!” You begin to eat the juicy treat while Alice takes in the atmosphere of your room.

“Those weird earthquakes were crazy today, huh?” She absentmindedly makes conversation.

“Earthquakes. Right. Yeah it was crazy. They really shook me at the core.” You say sarcastically, soaking in the irony.

Alice only hums in response. You watch her eyes dart from your trophies and then to the chair with clothes piled on it and then to the plants perched on your window until they finally land on the picture of her, your mom, and yourself.

It was your 11th birthday and you had cake smeared all across your face. The memory is so vivid, you can still hear the beautiful melody of your mother’s laugh dancing through the air. It’s the last picture you have of her.

“I miss her too.” You speak quietly, fearing if you spoke too loudly, the memory would go away.

Her gaze returns to you, tears brimming her eyes and her smile a little less bright. “You remind me of her so much, Y/n.” All you can offer her is a warm smile.

You’ve already cried all the tears you had left. You clear your throat, “Thanks again for the oranges, Ali.”

She wipes the tears that manage to break free before placing a quick kiss on the top of your head.

“Take out will be here soon.” She informs as she exits the room, her cheerful tone returning.

“Sounds good.” You respond.

You take one more glance at the picture of the three of you before getting back to work. However, like most things here lately, you didn’t get very far.

“Shoo, shoo! Stupid bird. I hate you!” You hear a muffled voice coming from outside. You wouldn’t have found this odd, if you weren’t on the fourth floor of an apartment complex.

You rush over to your window and peek outside, and much to your surprise you see just the person you needed to see. You snicker before unlocking your window and pushing it up.

“Peter, what are you doing up here?” You whisper.

“Oh, ya know, just...fighting some birds.” He chuckles weakly at being caught.

You smile wildly at the sound of his voice and the sight of him covered in feathers. You’re feeling too giddy to even question how he got up here. “Get in!” You move out of the way so he can crawl into your room.

Oh my god. Peter Parker is in my bedroom!

You hurry to shut the door, so Alice doesn’t see a boy in your room. You turn back around to see Peter stealthily make his way past your potted plants. He hops in with a soft grunt.

“Hi.” He says shyly once he finally looks at you.

“Hi.” You say back in the same tone.

Peter looks down at his hands, causing you to just notice he’s holding a plastic bag. “Um this is for you. You never answered my texts so I thought I should just...sneak by.”

You take the bag from him and sit on your bed, Peter copying your actions. Your breath hitches as your shoulders touch.

OH MY GOD!

You pull yourself together enough to take a look in the bag.

There are several things inside. Two chocolate bars, your favorite ice cream, a large bottle of water, a box of tissues, and a dvd of your favorite movie.

You look towards Peter with the softest smile to ever lie upon your lips.

“What’s all this for?” You nearly whisper, your heart aching at the gesture.

“Gwen mentioned that it was that time of the month for you, so I brought you some things. I asked her for your favorite snacks and stuff.” He explains as his face burns with a rosy tint.

You’re not on your period, so you just assume that Gwen covered for you earlier today. She could’ve come up with literally anything else because her lie is kind of embarrassing, but you’re not complaining at the moment.

After you don’t saying anything in response, Peter starts to ramble nervously. “I’ve seen this movie once, it’s pretty good! I don’t know if it’s Star Wars level good, but I’d recommend it to someone. Now that I think about it, I don’t know why I brought you a copy. If it’s your favorite movie, you probably already have it so that’s kinda stupid of me I guess. Did you know that-“

You could listen to this boy talk for hours and hours, but for now, you interrupt him with a tight hug. It takes him a second to process, his mind and his heart going just as crazy as yours. He recoups soon, wrapping his arms tightly around your lower back.

“Thank you, Peter. You really didn’t have to do this.”

“I just wanted to make your rough day a little better.”

And that, he did. More than he even knows. The two of you hug for a little while longer before pulling apart, your faces only inches away from each other.

You gulp as you look into his brown eyes. You’ve never seen them this close before. Chills are sent down Peter’s spine, but for a different reason this time. A better reason.

His eyes begin to flutter shut as he leans in and you mirror his movements.

It’s finally happening, and so fast too! Peter Parker is now literally in the palm of your hands. You try your best to maintain your excitement. Another uncontrollable episode is not what you need right now.

You can basically feel his lips on yours already. Your first kiss with Peter...

“Y/n! The food is here!”

...was too good to be true. Of course.

The sound of Alice’s voice makes you and Peter jolt to opposite ends of the bed. You run your hands over your face and let out an exasperated sigh. “Yeah Alice, I’ll be right there!”

The air becomes still as you and Peter look at everything in the room except for each other. He’s the first to speak up, “Well uh, I should let you go eat.” He rubs his hands on his legs.

“Yeah I probably shouldn’t keep my aunt waiting. She’s scary when she’s hangry.” You joke to lighten the mood.

You both share a small laugh before you walk Peter over to the window he’d just entered through.

“Thank you again for everything. You’re a really good friend.”

He doesn’t show it, but that word just stabbed him in the heart. Friend.

“Anything for you, Y/n/n. You should go, I don’t want you to see me climbing these walls.” Peter says truthfully, but plays it off as a joke.

You laugh along with him, “Call me if you hurt yourself. I have ways to fix ya up.” You say truthfully as well.

Neither of you catch on to the other’s honesty.

You give each other an endearing smile before parting way.

Once your back is turned, you whisper to yourself, “Friend? Why did I say that?”

Here’s one more thing to beat yourself up about all night long.

“Y/n, The food!” Alice yells, the hunger taking over.

“I’m coming!” You should in an equally frustrated tone, but because of a different type of hunger.

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

Sorry it took a while to post this chapter!! I tried making it longer than the others to make up for it :)

Omgg my Tom fic, The “Friendship” Test is currently sitting at 800+ notes, that’s insane!! Thank you guys so much, I know I say that a lot but I truly mean it!

((excuse any typos, i write at night))

tag list 🏷 (lmk if i missed you or if you want to be added!)

@jackiehollanderr @crazylittlereader2474

@phantomhrt @sassystay-bunny @sltwins

@bigassnocash @pignolithecookie

@big-galaxy-chaos @lilyblackx @jjjmaybank

@peterandtom @meilikki

@the-avengers-assembling @voldyphobia

@lumiees @frostay

@lupinpetersclearwaterodairparker

@mikaofasgard @empath-bunny

@neoneun-nananeun-neo @themoonlightofari

[ahtsumu]

again and again and again ; ushijima wakatoshi

pairing: ushijima wakatoshi x f!reader

synopsis: every august 13th, a void opens in your chest. the universe is one sick bastard.

tag(s): soulmate!au, very angsty, equally fluffy, reincarnation!au, prince!ushijima, rebel!ushijima. android!ushijima, dad!ushijima, pro-volleyball player!ushijima ; warning(s): lots of death n dying, suggestive themes, light profanity ; wc: 4.8k

a/n: happy birthday ushi!!! inspired by cloud atlas and the raven cycle but you don’t have to have seen either to understand this fic. tbh it’s just a bunch of different au’s tied together by the strings of fate lol. a thousand thank you’s to @dorkyama​ for beta-ing!

TOKYO, JAPAN, 2020

It’s another August 13th and Ushijima Wakatoshi might die today.

Glumly, you push away the plate of breakfast in front of you, cross your arms over the new space, and rest your forehead down as if in front of a grave.

“Please,” you beg with eyes shut. “Let Ushijima Wakatoshi live today.”

(You’ve whispered this phrase infinite times–– so often that it has a home in your mouth like a cavity.)

SOMEWHERE IN WASHINGTON, 2012

When you first meet Ushijima–– the first first time–– it’s evening and you’re lost in a meadow somewhere in Washington. Where exactly doesn’t quite matter and, even if it did, you wouldn’t be able to remember. At least, not at this moment. Because you see something most peculiar.

Under the half-lit sky, in the glade of overgrown sweet vernal grass and marigolds and daisies, a figure stands paler than the moon overhead.

The body belongs to a young man dressed in a sweater and slacks. His dark hair parts on the side, stopping right above a pair of firm dark eyes. Thin lips press in a perfunctory line, sharp nose radiates an aura of authority.

And yet, he looks lost.

“Hello?” you call out. The boy doesn’t respond, only continues to hover in the middle of the clearing with the same confounded expression on his face. So you ignore the pounding of your heart in your chest and inch closer until you’re just feet away, shivering. It’s a strangely cold day for July, you think.

“Can you tell me your name?” you ask. Seconds pass in silence as he stares past–– no, through–– you. With your thudding heartbeat and shallow breaths still the only sounds in the meadow, you realise that you may have to try something else.

Gently, you touch the pads of your fingers to his shoulder. A fresh wave of ice floods through your veins, raising goosebumps all over your skin. More curiously, though, your fingers fall through said shoulders. It feels like plunging your hand into a bucket of ice.

Eyes wide, you lunge backwards. A ghost?

No, ghosts aren’t real.

(If that’s the case, then what is he?)

At your touch, the boy’s head jerks up. Life floods his gaze. Blinking, he says, “Ushijima.” His voice is low and smooth, but quiet. Firm. He looks around the meadow as if seeing it for the first time.

“Is that all?”

Ushijima’s focus returns to you, this time with the addition of furrowed brows. His eyes are fixed on you in a way that makes you feel as if he’s reading your soul.

“That’s all there is.”

A million questions race through your mind and before you can decide which to ask first, his incorporeal figure vanishes from the meadow.

And you’re alone again.

Oddly enough, the way back to your aunt’s house comes naturally to you. Once inside the ancient wooden manor, you realise that the feeling that guided you back was the same that had led you to the meadow in the first place.

Then, you wonder, had you truly been lost?

Aunt Risa’s an eccentric woman in her thirties, always yabbering on about Mercury in retrograde and events that are yet to happen. Grandma had been the same. Clairvoyance, or what everyone claims is “clairvoyance”, supposedly runs in your family. You wouldn’t know, though, because apparently it skipped your mother. Coincidentally (or not), she’s extremely proud of her normality. And she’s also extremely proud that you, supposedly, are normal, too.

It’s safe to say that you don’t see your mother’s family often.

Still, she sent you here from New York to “connect with your roots”. And even though you know that’s a cover for “raise hell somewhere else for one summer”, you let yourself consider that it means getting acquainted with the mystic mumbo-jumbo you’ve ignored all these years. After all, nothing normal can explain what just happened in the field… right?

Good thing Aunt Risa isn’t normal.

“That’s Glendower’s Meadow you were just in,” she says with a twinkle in her eyes. “Lies atop a very powerful ley line.”

Ley lines, you learn, connect places around the world through electromagnetic forces. They are also able to transcend time, gravity, space… all forces that cannot be seen.

Aunt Risa adds that they do more than just connect places. “Soulmates countries apart can step on any point in the same line to see each other. It’s been said that the power ley lines emit is so strong that even soulmates worlds and years apart can meet in these little pockets of energy. Guess it tides you over til you’re destined to meet.”

Somehow, everything she says makes sense and doesn’t at the same time. Soulmates? Magic? None of this is real, is it?

“Now,” she continues, “it’s odd that you can use ley lines, though. Remember how you couldn’t tell a black jackal from a swan the last time you read tea leaves?”

You frown. At seven years old, you hadn’t exactly been trying.

“I guess there is something supernatural about you! You can’t deny how magical it is to have a love that transcends lifetimes…”

You don’t hear the rest of what she has to say. “Lifetimes?”

“Yup. Soulmates are the only people in this universe who go through reincarnation. The Universe is a hopeless romantic, letting her children fall in love again and again and again.”

And this explanation satisfies you because you’re sixteen, a little naive, and the Universe has never failed you before.

(She will.)

July passes in a honeyed haze: you spend every day with a content curve to your lips, thinking about a boy with eyes and hair dark as night.

Aunt Risa doesn’t have the heart to tell you that she’s seen his future in this life. And when you step out the creaky wooden door for the last time, ready to go back to the bustling jungle that is New York, she calls out to you with an expression you don’t yet recognise. “Don’t you worry, hun. You’ll see that Ushijima boy again.”

But not like this.

You’re about to get out of bed and dress for the first day of school when an out-of-control eighteen-wheeler runs his driver’s black SUV off the road. Ushijima Wakatoshi dies on August 13th in his timezone.

As it happens, you feel a strange sense of loss settle in. It’s like you’d been driving on the highway and just missed the last turn home.

(You’ll learn in the next life that you, in fact, do not have the gift of foresight. But you do have the curse of memory.)

PARIS, FRANCE, 1749

The year is 1749 and sunlight pours through the windows of Ushijima Wakatoshi’s second-floor bedroom.

In this life–– your second life–– you are a brilliant composer. The Universe, as you’ve guessed, follows no rules, no directions. Doesn’t even spare a glance at a linear timeline. Or perhaps, it’s time that isn’t linear. Either way, you try not to think about things out of your control. Life is good now.

At the sound of your fingers waltzing across ivory and ebony, Ushijima slowly sits up in the king-sized, soft linen sheets falling to reveal his chiselled torso.

“Good morning,” he rasps, a content smile tugging at his lips. “You look enchanting as always.”

The melody stops. Between the lid and music rack, your eyes meet–– his gentle, yours mirthful. “You flatter me,” you deny with a cheeky grin. Still, you rise (wearing his robes, Ushijima notes) from your seat and stroll over to your lover, pressing a gentle kiss to his mouth. “Happy birthday, darling.”

“Thank you,” he murmurs against your lips. “I live another year just for you.” Ushijima really means that–– in fact, he believes with his whole heart that he was made for you and you him. There’s no other way to explain how your bodies mould so perfectly together, how you understand each other without even speaking, how time feels like it doesn’t exist whenever you’re around. Your meeting at Duke La Trémoille’s ball could only have been the work of Fate’s nimble fingers.

(It was. A ley line runs underneath the Duke’s family château.)

You hum, thankful that this time you have the privilege to love him as he lives. Your last life was spent agonising over the only memory you had of him. “And what does this day have in store for the man of the hour?” The words that leave your lips morph into bubbling laughter as he moves aside on the bed and pulls you into his embrace. Still giggling, you kiss his bare chest, relishing in how secure his arms feel around your waist.

“Mother is hosting a ball tonight in my honour,” he says. That you are not invited to, he doesn’t add. He doesn’t have to, though, because you know that she doesn’t approve of you. Not being French is the main reason why, but there’s also the fact that you’re a musician. A talented, accomplished, royally recognised musician, sure, but that doesn’t change how at the end of the day, all you have to your name is inked paper.

And Ushijima Wakatoshi is first in line for the throne of France.

“Ah.”

It’s hardly fair for you to feel slighted–– you knew what you were getting into the second the Crown Prince, notorious for his aloof nature, invited you to Versailles to perform for him and his friends.

(In his defense, Duke Tendou had forced his hand by threatening to throw a fit in front of the Queen, but only after he’d seen the painfully restrained wonder in the prince’s eyes.)

Still, you yearn for something more.

Ushijima feels your body stiffen in his arms and knows the moment has soured. “You can never be Queen of France,” he murmurs into your neck. Shivers crawl down your spine the same time tears prick at your eyes. “And I can never give you a throne.” It’s not the throne you yearn for.

“I know.” You curse whoever the lucky girl will be. And you curse Ushijima for reminding you that she will definitely not be you.

“I can only promise you my heart.” He presses his lips to the side of your neck. “My undying devotion.” A kiss to your exposed shoulder. “And my soul in every life we meet.” His hand slides under your chin and turns your head towards his. Soft lips move against yours while the pads of his fingers wipe away the tears that had spilled over your cheeks.

“Toshi, I must say that the literature tutor your mother hired is doing a marvellous job,” you murmur once you pull apart.

A short breath of amusement leaves his nose. “He’s only polishing a gem that already exists,” Ushijima counters.

You smile slyly, another witty remark ready to launch from your mouth, when three sharp knocks at the door cause both of you to freeze.

“My friends, the Devil approaches.” Tendou’s faint voice travels through the opulent front door.

Sighing, you slide off the bed and tug your day dress on. Without being asked, Ushijima ties the laces in the back together. “Tell your mother I said hello, won’t you?” you tease, kissing him deeply on the balcony.

“I’d prefer not to think about my mother with your lips pressed to mine, darling,” he replies.

You giggle softly, and with one leg dangling off the balustrade, say, “And careful not to wear yourself out dancing, Toshi. Expect a visit from me later.”

His sonorous laughter rings through the air as you jump and land deftly on the freshly cut grass below, running the whole way back to your humble apartment in the eleventh arrondissement.

Regrets of not sneaking into the ball will burn into your brain after Tendou arrives at your door later that evening with a faraway stare on his face.

Towards the end of the ball, Ushijima Wakatoshi is led away from the dance floor and into the gardens by his scheming younger brother Goshiki.

He doesn’t return. The beloved Crown Prince of France dies on his twenty-first birthday with a dagger in his chest and poison in his veins.

With two lives under your belt, you reach the cruel understanding that in every life you live, August 13th is the day that Ushijima Wakatoshi dies again and again and again.

In a sense, memory is foresight.

NEO SEOUL, 2144

Tomorrow, the Union Revolutionary Group exposes the government for their crimes against your people.

But tonight, your head rests against his chest–– a habit you picked up sometime after Germany, 1943, even though you are presently in Neo Seoul, 2144. To be honest, you’re not sure if it’s even 2144. Neo Seoul’s calendar isn’t like the one you went through your first few lives with and you’re certain one year here is equivalent to two back on the Earth you knew… or something like that. Either way, every August 13th passes under your nose without detection. Every day passes uneasily, because although you never truly know when anyone dies in any life, you really don’t know when he will in this one.

But hearing Ushijima’s heart beat firmly manages to take the edge off yours. Every pulse is a murmured confirmation that everything is still okay.

You jerk back when he stirs from sleep. Disorientated, Ushijima blinks at your dimly lit figure before registering that it’s you. A confused expression crosses his features. What had you just been doing?

“Is everything alright?” His voice is raspy with drowsiness but he sits upright against the headboard anyway.

“Yeah.”

“No, it’s not. Tell me what’s wrong.” Nothing ever slips past him–– at least, not when it comes to you. Still, you bite your lip and contemplate if it’s worth mentioning. Three years of working alongside the renegade Commander (and hundreds more from other lifetimes) have taught you that words of comfort do not belong in Ushijima’s vocabulary. But it’s the night before you, the only known freed Fabricant working with the Union, are going to expose the Unanimity’s enslavement of Fabricants to all inhabitants of Neo Seoul. And…

“I’m scared, Wakatoshi.”

He thinks you’re talking about tomorrow. His eyes dart to the holographic digits floating throughout his room. 12:02 AM. You’re talking about today, then. He’s not wrong–– you are afraid of today. But you’re also afraid every day.

Ushijima pauses, wondering what to say. He’s never felt fear the same way others do. Others might only see a myriad of ways they can fail or die but he simply sees a chance to prove himself. A chance to emerge victorious. “If you let yourself be scared,” he says, “then you lose without fighting. Fear is a wasted emotion. Even at your last breath, you should never be afraid.”

As you mull his words over in your head, a section of your hair falls in front of your face. Ushijima’s fingers twitch. Would it be too much to––

“Then what should I feel instead?” He stills.

The question hangs in the air, thickening until the spacious room feels suffocating. Normal people–– people you knew a couple of lifetimes ago–– would probably say something like “love” or “hope” or even “don’t”. You think Ushijima might, too.

But when Ushijima speaks, he says, “Feel right now.”

A shift in the moonbeam pouring through your surrounding glass walls casts a muted glow over your features, breaking through the darkness of the room. Ushijima’s olive eyes flash and fall to your shining lips.

His Adam’s apple bobs. Anticipation bubbles in your stomach.

You think that you might die tomorrow. He might die any day. What are you waiting for?

Feeling a fiery rush of blood surge through your veins, you close the distance between your bodies until the tips of your noses touch. Gently, your hand comes up to the back of his neck, feeling his pulse speed up under your fingers. He instantly reaches out, grips your waist firmly. Hot, uneven breaths fan across your face.

“What––”

“I know it’s forbidden between Fabricants and pure-bloods,” you breathe out, “but––”

Ushijima nudges his lips against yours. They move stiffly, unsurely, but it’s sincere. It’s his first kiss and it’s your… you’ve lost count by now. It doesn’t really matter, though. Past, future, or present, every one of his touches feels new.

Both of you might die tomorrow. But tonight, you both are so very alive.

And when his heart pounds, unmuffled, bare against yours, you are reminded to live now.

Twenty-one hours later, a laser beam whizzes past your ear.

“Go faster!” you shout over the wind, tightening your arms around Ushijima’s waist. “We have to get to the broadcast station now.”

“I’m trying,” he grits out, pressing his foot harder against the hoverbike’s pedal. You speed up, but only a little. “Fuck. Remember what I taught you about the laser pistols?”

“Always aim a little higher than you want to.” From the mirrors on the side, you see the corners of his lips quirk up. You reach for the gun in his belt.

Not a single police officer remains on your tail when you step foot into the broadcast station.

“We don’t have much time, miracle girl,” Tendou, a fellow Union soldier, says once you arrive. He punches the elevator button. Instantly, the chute opens. “Cameras have picked up on at least five Unanimity squads headed our way from the city.”

The sinking feeling that today out of all days might be August 13th suddenly weighs on your stomach. A shaky breath leaves your mouth.

Ushijima stops you before you can step in. Cupping your face with his large hands, the brunet gazes deeply into your eyes. “I believe in you,” he murmurs. “I believe in you.” His fingers brush against your cheekbones. You let your eyelids close, relishing in this stolen moment between two new lovers.

Ushijima presses his lips against yours, kissing you as if he’s trying to carve a message into your bones. He whispers his conviction one last time before stepping back and allowing Tendou to push you lightly into the elevator. The thought that Ushijima’s words allude to more than just faith nudges your brain as the two men grow smaller in your sight.

Halfway through your revelations, the Unanimity cuts through the metal doors of the station. Behind the glass panels encasing the radio room, you watch the shootout begin. Every bone in your body screams for you to join your comrades, but you remember what your orders are. No matter what happens, do not stop the broadcast. If the truth doesn’t come out now, the Union will have sacrificed everything in vain.

You will your voice to steady when Unanimity soldiers take out the Union soldiers hiding behind Tendou’s barricade.

You will your hands to unclench when Ushijima deftly slides over his squad’s barricade and tosses a plasma grenade towards a cluster of enemy soldiers, then picks off the survivors with his Union rifle.

You will your breath to endure when the brunet is blown back by a grenade tossed by another squadron. Ushijima’s cranium collides with the floor. His body stills; blood red as cherry wine pools around his head like a cruel halo. Swallowing, you push forth. You’re a soldier.

But you can’t help the way your throat dries or hands shake or lungs tighten when you see his head turn ever-so-slightly in your direction.

He smiles in his last breath.

(The Archivist asks if you loved Ushijima before you are taken away. You tell him you always have, do, will.

The Unanimity guillotine doesn’t scare you like you think it should. Knowing what and who waits ahead, it feels more like a kiss to your neck.)

QAASUURI, 3003

As you step out of the metal carriage, the ground beneath you begins to vibrate. This, as you’ve learned, can only mean that you are standing atop another ley line.

Olive eyes stare at you impassively when you look up. A dazzling array of awards and medals is pinned to his chest over a white military uniform. Compared to all the other soldiers around him, you gather that the deep purple cape over his shoulders means he’s someone important. Possibly your betrothed? You briefly recall another lifetime in which he’d been the crown prince of somewhere, and you, by a spectacular stroke of misfortune, had only been a composer then. Fighting back a smug grin, you muse that this time, you are a princess.

“Ushijima Wakatoshi, Captain of the Qaasuuri Royal Guard, at your service,” he says with a low bow. “King Washijou appointed me to ensure your safety during your courtship with the prince, your highness. These are trying times, especially with the war against Ibis.” Your heart falls. So it’s one of those lives.

Mustering the warmest smile you can, you curtsy and say, “Thank you, Ushijima. I hope we can get to know each other better.”

You do.

It is a truth universally acknowledged that the Qaasuuri are a race more android than human. But nothing about him feels artificial. He is as real as he was in Berlin. Atlantis. Cairo. Camelot. Hanoi. Olympus. Tallahassee. He feels as human, too.

You get to relearn the way his cheeks flare up when you call him Toshi and not Ushijima for his first time (force of habit)... and every subsequent time (at your pleasure).

You get to relearn his wry humour, how every-so-often his stony demeanour breaks after one of your quick jabs, usually in response to his agonisingly blunt remarks. (“You should have brought a coat, princess,” he notes with disapproval when you shiver in the chilly spring air. You promise him that you look better with hypothermia than in any Qaasuuri coat. An amused breath blows out from his nose. And though he doesn’t say a word more on the subject, his white jacket over your shoulders speaks more than enough.)

You get to relearn how his hands feel on your skin. The first lesson is your mistake: missing a step down the spiralling staircase on your way to dinner. Automatically, his hand grips your arm to pull you back. He uses a little more force than necessary, though, and tugs you into his firm chest. Neither of you can look at each other for the rest of the evening. The second is his mistake: reaching out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear as you read in the palace library, somehow knowing it’s one of your pet peeves. Both of you freeze when his fingers accidentally brush against your cheek. Ushijima thinks he’s never felt skin softer than yours–– you think it’s been too long since he last touched you.

The third is neither a mistake nor just one of your doings. It happens on a cool autumn evening as the two of you walk through the palace gardens with your hands dangling haphazardly at your sides, knocking against each other again and again as if begging for an opening. Finally, you acquiesce. You slip your hand into Ushijima’s cold palms. And though nothing shows on his stony face, his heart whirrs like an overheating engine for the rest of your walk. He doesn’t let go until the iron palace comes back into view.

“We should stop,” he pants between fervent kisses, “before this gets out of hand.” You nip at his neck. “You’re betrothed to the prince––” you suck on the skin between his collarbones and throat, drawing a low groan from his lips “––and I can never give you a throne.”

You pull back, knees on either side of his waist, and stare down into his eyes. “I don’t want a throne.” Ushijima watches you with rapt attention. Sometimes you wonder if maybe, just maybe, he remembers. Slowly, you repeat his words from lifetimes ago. “I only want your heart.” An unreadable expression crosses his face. “Your devotion.” It’s not recognition. “And your soul.”

It’s conviction.

By now you’ve seen many breathtaking things: entire cities built from ice, the end of the ocean, a Venusian sunrise. None compare to Ushijima Wakatoshi with his pupils blown wide, hair tousled, lips flushed. Red with love.

None compare when he promises, “You have that and more.”

A pause.

“Show me.”

With an effortless flip, Ushijima’s muscled body hovers over yours, olive eyes flashing wildly in your dim chambers.

Amid fast breaths and guttural moans, amid steely olive eyes and parted lips, amid the subatomic space between your bodies, you feel it cloak your skin like armour.

Love.

(The Ibis storm the Qaasuuri castle one month before the wedding. Ushijima fights the invaders valiantly, superhuman modifications undoubtedly being of help. But there’s just too many of them. The last thing he tells you is to run. The world burns when you look over your shoulder, only to see a Ibisian sword drive through his heart.

The Qaasuuri are a race more android than human. But they still bleed the same.)

TOKYO, JAPAN, 2018

The oldest you ever witness him live to is thirty-two years old.

It’s the morning of August 13th and you walk into the kitchen to the sight of Ushijima Wakatoshi lifting your daughter up into the sky, spinning her little body around in circles, the pancakes on the stove slowly bronzing to a mouthwatering shade of gold.

“Mommy!” she giggles when she sees you. Leaning against the doorframe with your arms crossed, you watch your husband set your daughter back down on the ground with a soft smile on his face.

“Sleep well?” you ask, ruffling her hair. She nods happily and bounces back to the stove. Her latest obsession has been cooking in the kitchen, though you’re not sure when exactly she moved on from “potion-making” in the backyard.

“Morning,” Ushijima murmurs, wrapping an arm around your waist and pressing a kiss to your lips.

“Happy birthday, handsome,” you tease, leaning into his chest. As the words leave your mouth, the sunny morning haze cools into desaturated blue. But it’s been thirty-two years, you reason with a hard swallow. Maybe the cycle has broken. Your eyes dart to your daughter’s little figure on the stepping stool, her small hands gripping the spatula flipping a bronzed pancake over to its pale side. How would she…

You steel yourself, though a small fissure can’t help but open in your heart from the force.

She isn’t your first child and she won’t be your last. Time, you’ve learned, likes to play games, likes to set you on the same storyline again and again just to see if another ending will show itself. There will be more tomorrows and more yesterdays. There always is.

But that doesn’t make todays hurt any less.

Ushijima tilts his head to the side, olive eyes peering into yours. “Is everything okay?” He never misses (or missed) anything–– not when the two of you were heisting in Switzerland or revelling in Alexandria like Dionysians, not when you were crammed in the same codebreaking room during World War I or sailed across the Atlantic to your doom in 1912. Not now.

But you’re tired of carrying each bygone lifetime into the next. Willing yourself to forget the fact that you’ve seen him die again and again on August 13th, you put everything into the lie that slips your teeth: “More than okay.”

You choose to cherish the present.

“Order up!” your daughter exclaims, proudly presenting the plate of pancakes to you and Ushijima. “I even made one shaped like a heart for Dad for his birthday!”

With a grin, you come closer to inspect the heart-shaped pancake. “Excellent work, sous chef!” you compliment, tapping her nose lightly. It’s sharp like her father’s. She, however, inherited your eyes. You turn around to face your husband. “What does Head Chef Ushijima think?”

Smiling softly, he takes the plate from her hands and, without a second look, says, “It’s perfect. Thank you, sweetheart.”

Breakfast passes in a blur of laughter and honey.

(You think you have gone through another August 13th unscathed when night falls and all of your friends exit through the cherry wood doors of one of Tokyo’s finest restaurants. On the car ride home, however, your white SUV swerves to avoid a deer in the road and flips once, twice, three times.

You wake up neither a mother nor a wife.)

TOKYO, JAPAN, 2020

A subtle sigh of relief exits your lungs when Ushijima Wakatoshi enters through the front door at 12:01 AM, red Team Japan suitcase in hand. He’s back from the airport. More importantly, he’s alive.

“Did I make it?” he asks with an upturned corner of his mouth. His olive eyes are half-closed from the exhausting transatlantic flight and his muscles are still a bit sore from how vigorously he played the game against Argentina (Oikawa’s team, for god’s sake)... but he’s here.

And he can’t be any happier.

You know that he’s talking about the time, probably hoping to joke that coming home to you is the best birthday present he can imagine. In that regard, he technically hasn’t made it.

And yet, you leap into his arms and press kisses all over his face as you repeat “yes” again

and again

and again.

[sunrisefairy]

Swipe right

Pairing: George Weasley x reader

Warning: language, mentions of cheating/breakup, alcohol 

Summary: The one where Y/N downloads tinder after a bad breakup

Taglist: @hufflepuff5972​ @inglourious-imagines​ @klausdatprettyboi​ @georgeweasleyswhre​​ @horrorxweasley​​ @amourtentiaa​​ send me an ask if you would like to added!

————————————————————————

Y/N hated being single. She hated not having anyone waiting for her with dinner cooked and a glass of wine when she got home from work. She hated how empty her bed felt and not having anyone to cuddle after a tough week. She hated no one being there to listen to her ranting about her day. Y/N absolutely missed being in a relationship and being able to go through life with someone else by her side.

Y/N’s last relationship was 8 months ago, she had been with her ex Matthew for 6 months when it came crashing down. Y/N remembers the night she met Matthew vividly. Her friends had dragged her to some concert at this random underground bar. Y/N was at the bar ordering drinks when a breathtakingly handsome man with blond shaggy hair and piercing blue eyes offered to pay for the 3 beers she was ordering. Normally, Y/N would roll her eyes and not bother talking to random drunk men, especially when it was a girl’s night out like tonight. But something about Matthew caught her attention and she couldn’t walk away even if she wanted to. Matthew had this aura about him, he was very charismatic and could captivate anyone with his looks alone leaving those around him putty in his hands. Which is exactly what happened to Y/N.

Matthew and Y/N started dating shortly after that and she was completely smitten with the man. He seems to be just what Y/N needed. To Y/N he was the perfect boyfriend, he held all the traits she looked for in a partner, kind, funny, smart, supportive, everything except the trait which would be argued to be the most important – loyal. 6 months into their seemingly flawless relationship Y/N found Matthew-her supposedly perfect boyfriend, in bed with another girl.

The second Y/N saw the two of them in a rather compromising position in Matthew’s bed, Y/N felt her world collapse around her, her throat closed over making it hard to breath and her vision blurred. The events that followed are hazy in Y/N’s mind, she remembers screaming and yelling, she knows there had been a lot of tears (mostly from her), Matthew trying to beg for forgiveness, which is very hard to do when you’re butt naked and there potentially was a few items thrown in Matthews direction, deservingly so.

That night broke Y/N, it felt like Matthew had reached into her chest and yanked out her heart and crushed it to dust then spat on it. Apparently, douchebag Matthew and this girl had been shagging for basically the whole of his and Y/N’s relationship. She couldn’t believe it.

Y/N’s friends had spent most of the weeks that followed in the heartbroken girl’s apartment as she cried, screamed, yelled. It pained them to see their best friend so distraught. But surely, over time and with lots of ice cream and alcohol, Y/N was able to heal.

8 months later Y/N finally felt mostly whole again, she was able to smile and laugh without a hollow ache pounding in her chest and tears threatening to spill from her eyes. She no longer dreamt of Matthew’s arm wrapping around her and pulling her into his chest when she dozed off, she forgot how it felt to kiss him and she stopped wanting to call him.

Y/N finally felt free, which she told Alicia and Angelina at their weekly girl’s night in. This led to Alicia trying to convince her to maybe start dating again, to test the waters as she put it.

“Okay, hear me out,” Alicia says waving her arms, somehow managing not to slip her wine on the couch, “I think Y/N should download tinder.”

Y/N scoffs and opens her mouth to disagree, but her words went unheard as Angelina squealed in excitement, “oh my god yes! Y/N you so should.”

Y/N shakes her head before sipping on her wine, enjoying the sweet taste on her lips. “Guys, I don’t think I’m ready to start dating, I definitely don’t think I’m ready for another relationship.”

“But that’s why tinder is so great, you don’t have to go on any dates if you don’t want to. You can just chat to some cute boys and see what happens.” Alicia replies, picking up Y/N’s phone from the coffee table and holds it out for her to unlock.

Y/N thinks for a moment, eyeing her phone, she doesn’t feel ready to jump into the dating scene still nervous about being let down again but there’s no harm in downloading tinder and seeing her options, right?

Y/N eyes are locked on her phone Alicia’s hand before muttering fine and unlocking it for her. Angelina giggled excitedly, moving closer to Alicia’s side to look at the phone. A few moments later the app was downloaded, and a profile was made. The 3 girls took turns swiping through profiles ogling the eye candy.

The phone was currently in Angelina’s hand while Alicia refilled everyone’s glasses, Y/N had lost count of how many glasses of wine she’s had tonight, her body buzzing from the alcohol. “Man, I forgot how much fun tinder is.” Angelina slurred, her thumb rapidly swiping through profiles.

“Okay Ang, we won’t tell Fred that you said that.” Y/N chuckles, Angelina just rolls her eyes.

“Oh, come off it.”

~ ~ ~

The next morning the 3 very hungover girls who had passed out in different spots of Y/N’s living room, somehow manage to drag themselves to brunch with Lee, Fred and George.

“Hello ladies, big night?” Fred winks then plants a sloppy kiss on Angelina’s cheek who mumbles a response that sound vaguely like a yes.

The 6 of them were sitting at a table outside, soaking up the sunshine and warm weather. Once their food is delivered the group is chatting aimlessly with one another. Y/N hears her phone ping from her bag, and she fishes it out to check the notification.

“Ohh, Y/N is it a tinder message?” Alicia says excitedly trying to peer over her shoulder.

“Tinder?” It’s George’s voice now. Y/N glances up at him from across the table, unable to read his expression, “since when does Y/N have tinder?”

“Since last night, the girls convinced me to download it. Kinda seems like time to start getting out there again.” Y/N replies shoving her phone back into her bag before one of her friends has the chance to snatch it from her even though the text was just from her mother.

“Maybe you should download tinder Georgie. ‘Bout time you got yourself a girlfriend.” Lee mumbles, his mouth full of food.

George shakes his head, looking down at his plate, “tinder isn’t for me. Besides your one to talk Lee, you’re single too.”

“Not anymore, I want to marry this eggs benedict.” Lee practically moans as he shovels another bite into his mouth.

Y/N laughs along with everyone, shaking her head slightly.

“I think you should George, I’d bet money that your dream girl is on there.” Fred smirks at George whose eyes widen at the comment and his cheeks heat up.

“Can we change the subject,” the redhead mutters scratching his neck, not meeting anyone’s gazes.

The conversation quickly moves on and Y/N finds herself still staring at George confused by his strange behaviour, also noticing the way her chest feels heavy at the mention of George’s ‘dream girl’. She pushes the feeling down and tears her eyes away from the redhead in front of her just before he glances up at her. The pair oblivious to the others intense gaze.

~ ~ ~

That night Y/N is snuggled up under her favourite fluffy blanket, on the couch, while some random romantic comedy is playing in the background.

Y/N has soon come to realise that tinder is addictive, she’s spent the better part of the last hour swiping through the many profiles. It doesn’t feel like she even has control of her fingers at this point, they apparently have a mind of their own.

Y/N starts to zone out, her finger automatically swiping for her. That is, until she stumbles across a particular profile and her finger freezes and her eyes bulge out of her head. Is that? George?

Y/N looks through his profile, there’s a picture that she had taken of him at the beach one summer, he’s lying on a towel, shirtless and the cheekiest grin plastered across his face. The next photo is of him and Ron from Harry’s surprise birthday Ginny threw last year. They are both looking smart in their suits, beaming brightly at the camera. Y/N can’t help but stare at George’s hand that’s wrapped tightly around a beer bottle, her mouth going dry as she zooms in on his veiny hand. There is also a photo of George from last Halloween where he had dressed as a pirate, Y/N chuckles, remembering how George had followed her around for most of the night, annoying her with his lame and corny pirate jokes. The last photo is her favourite out of them all. It’s of her and George at her recent birthday, he has his arm wrapped around her shoulder and his head resting against hers. The pair of them smiling widely at the camera.

Y/N bites her lip trying to decide if she should swipe left or right. She’s always had a soft spot for George long before she started dating Matthew. She knew deep down she harboured a tiny crush on her friend but never acted on it, scared she’ll ruin their friendship if she confessed her feelings. Y/N always fantasised about what it would be like to date George Weasley. She would happily bet her life savings that George would be the perfect boyfriend, would treat his girlfriend with respect and shower them with love and affection. It’s the type of relationship Y/N yearned for, the type of relationship she thought she had with Matthew.

Y/N stared down at the phone in her hand, contemplating her next move. The temptation to swipe right was huge, finally being able to find out if George liked her but there was the possibility that if she does swipe right she’ll find out that George does not like her in that way and she doesn’t know if she could physically take that knowledge right now. Part of her debates on swiping left, thinking that way she can live her life blissfully unaware to whether or not George likes her. The idea of being unsure of his feelings seems very appealing then definitely knowing he sees her just as a friend. A small voice in her head tells her to just delete the app and pretend this never happened.

Y/N groans at her overthinking.

Just choose Y/N.

“Fuck it,” Y/N mutters squeezing her eyes shut before swiping right.

She keeps her eyes closed for a few minutes, trying not to picture the upsetting scenario where they do not match, and Y/N has to deal with her unrequited feelings towards the boy. She takes a deep breath and slowly opens her eyes trying to focus back on the phone in her shaky hand. It takes a moment to process the words on the screen before Y/N is jumping up from the couch squealing.

It’s a match!

Her happy dance is interrupted when her phone dings, indicating a new message. Y/N swears her heart stops beating and she scrambles onto the couch to grab her phone.

George: Do my eyes deceive me or have I captured the attention of the lovely Y/N?

Y/N snorts at his message, butterflies erupting inside her stomach unable to get over the fact that George Weasley likes her.

Y/N: Consider yourself lucky Georgie, not many are worthy enough of my attention ;)

Y/N: But wait, I thought you didn’t have tinder? You said tinder wasn’t for you

George: I didn’t… well up until 1 hour ago. Fred convinced me to download it so I could try and find your profile. He said I should at least try and confess my feelings…

Y/N: And? What are your feelings?

George: that I am hopelessly in love with you. Have been since forever but I’ve been too chicken to admit it.

George: I was going to tell you I swear, but then you started dating that tosser Matthew and I lost my chance.

George: After you two broke up, Fred bugged me to say something to you but I knew it wasn’t the right time.

Y/N studies the messages. Long before Matthew was even a thought in her mind, she knew she would leap at the opportunity to date George. But that was before she had her heart shattered into a million of tiny pieces. She told Alicia and Angelina that she wasn’t ready to date, she didn’t think her heart could take it. And if this was any other guy, she would gently let them down. But this wasn’t just any guy, this was George Weasley. The man who never failed to make her smile and laugh till tears was streaming down her face. The man who help pick up the shards of her heart and help mend it back together. The man who would always answer her phone call, no matter the time of night. Y/N knew she’d be stupid to let go of George Weasley.

~ ~ ~

George was a wreck; he was pacing around his living room basically pulling out his hair with how much he’s run his fingers through it. It had been 30 minutes since he messaged Y/N and admitted his feelings, telling her he loves her. And she hasn’t replied!

George knew he shouldn’t have said anything, clearly Y/N was just curious about his profile, just wanting to see if they’d match and she definitely does not love him back let alone like him.

He wanted to throttle Fred for convincing him to make this stupid tinder account and embarrassing him like this, now George has gone and fucked up his friendship with Y/N.

George stops pacing when he hears knocking from his front door. His eyebrows knit in confusion about who would be visiting him at this hour. George chooses to ignore it, deciding he doesn’t want to see anyone right now, all he wants to do is open some vodka and drown his sorrows. He makes it into the kitchen when the knocking starts back up again, this time louder and faster.

“Okay I’m coming!” George shouts annoyed, “Jesus, I swear this better be import-” his words disappear as soon as he opens the door and is faced with Y/N.

“What are you doing here?” Georges words come out short and brunt, but Y/N doesn’t seem to notice.

She is fiddling with her fingers and anxiously chewing on her bottom lip. “I figured this wasn’t really a conversation I wanted to have over tinder.”

Y/N is silent, the words getting stuck halfway up her throat, she doesn’t really trust her voice to be steady enough to talk. So, she decides on another route of communicating her feelings to George.

Slowly she cups Georges faces in her small hands, forcing his eyes to meet hers. George seems frozen still as Y/N softly pulls his face to down towards hers, their lips millimetres from one another. She can feel his shaky breath on her face. It feels like forever before Y/N connects their lips together, George seems to snap out of his trance as his hands wrap tightly around Y/N’s waist, holding her body close. Their lips mould together perfectly and fireworks erupt in Y/N’s belly. She feels alive and her heart is thumping in her chest and all she can think of is George. George is clouding her thoughts and, in this moment, she doesn’t want anything else to ever occupy her brain. Her heart feels warm and whole as if George had kept the final piece of her heart in his possession to keep save until she was ready and willing to give him the whole thing. Y/N doesn’t feel scared anymore of the thought of loving someone again because she knows for certain now that she’s always loved George.

They pull away from the kiss, breathlessly, George rests his forehead against Y/N’s needing to feel close to her still.

A tear slips from Y/N’s eye which George softly kisses away.

“I love you too George. Always”

[etheriadearie]

What if it's Adora's... and Catra's- Dream?

::It's been eight months since The Kiss and Catradora becoming canon in one of the most breathtakingly romantic and beautiful endings of all time. Now that we've all throughly gotten to enjoy that, I'd like to take some time to explore how Adora's dream might tie into everything having to do with its ending, as well as the entire romantic arc of SPOP.

This post centers on Adora's dream, with the goal of exploring the dream as a part of the Catradora romance. Really, truely, as part of their romance. Pardon my vagueness, because it is out of kindness: if you haven't finished the series, THIS IS A SPOILER WARNING. 🚨🚨🚨 ... If you don't like spoilers, now is the time to scroll on by, Horde soldier // Rebellion fighter!! (and please, return when you do- <3)

If you have finished the show, please consider joining me below, as i'd love to hear your opinion on the following theory...

💜💙💚💛🧡❤️💜💙💚💛🧡❤️💜💙❤️🧡❤️💜💙💚💛🧡❤️💜💙💚💛🧡❤️💜💙❤️

Hey Adora ~❤️

Are you still with me?

Good, then let's get this started-

It is highly probable that Adora’s 'dream' is a canon romantic moment for each of them, which not only Adora experiences, but so does Catra.

The dream is, instead, a spontaneous reaction of Etheria’s deep magic and their love, in particular because Catra is with Adora as she tries to save Adora through her love for her. They both share in the creating of the dream, but it's meaning is that of Catra showing her love to Adora: they are connected within the dream by way of this Etherian magic, which they have shared in before.

I say this because what we’re actually seeing is a simulation, much like the ones that Catra and Adora shared together during Promise: these simulations are based on memories and on emotions: it is Catra’s emotions which are being channeled as Etheria creates the dream for them.

We will indeed discuss the arc of their love in this post, but, this theory is based on the use of a oft neglected, but powerful, mode of storytelling:: Known as ‘visual cues’ this method of storytelling is employed by Noelle and Friends as the way to tell us the deeper meanings behind the dream sequence. And the use of these cues tells us that this is intended to be seen as a shared romantic moment for both girls, showing their love for one another.

I know, this might seem like a lot to process, after all, isn't what we see during the dream supposedly Adora’s subconscious response to Mara’s words of wisdom about love, when she asked Adora what she wants, and tells her to not give up?

And how would it even be possible for Catra to be in the simulation with Adora? To the former, Adora still had no answer to Mara’s question, like she didn't when Catra asked her what she wanted the night before. And in the dream, we watch as Adora spends almost all of it denying what she's seeing, believing she has failed her duty to save everyone as She-ra. Considering Adora’s resistance to the dream, does it make sense for the dream to be self actualized by Adora, or is what she sees originating from somewhere else, and if so, how?

As to whether Catra can be there with Adora, the answer is a resounding yes: and that's because we already know that Catra is in the dream with Adora, for part of the time. How we know this is that after Horde Prime traps Adora, Catra intervenes to save Adora and they interact: Catra reaches down to try and save Adora, ending famously with her beautiful love confession, which helps Adora find the strength to reach out to take her hand.

That we see Catra do this, and that she does it so purposefully, tells us that this is something that actually happens between the two of them:: Catra must have seen Horde Prime trap Adora, and Adora can see and hear Catra in her mind as she calls for her- Adora really does reach up to take Catra’s hand, and as she takes it, is pulled from the edge of death. It's not a metaphor at all, even though we know Catra is holding Adora's body in the real.

And so, if Catra was with Adora then, why not before, too?

To put it simply, all of the visions that Adora has, including her meeting Mara before the dream, is Etheria’s deep magic trying to help her, and so it helps to bridge the gap that's needed for Catra to share her love with Adora. After all, Etheria "is a living creature" (s5ep8) and Catra, actually, has a strong connection to Etheria’s magic, and to magic in general (we will revisit this later).

All that happens is tied together, which we'll talk about below: what Adora sees in the dream is the true beginning of Catra’s love confession, because Catra is coming through for Adora as her best self to save her, much like Adora did for Catra during Save the Cat.

::And that's where our visual cues come in, because as it turns out, the Dream and Save the Cat are related: they are related in storytelling and in emotion, but most importantly:: they are related visually.

This post will cover these similarities starting below. We’ll also take a look at two separate and distinct visual cues having to do with how Catra acts in the Dream to further the discussion, and lastly we'll cover how, in fact, all of Save the Cat and Heart Part 2 are related, starting well before the dream, continuing right through it, and afterwards as well.

But, to get this started, let's take a look at visual cue #1: when Catra offers her hand to Adora in her dream.

::During the dream, Adora has such disbelief when she finds herself in it, and she keeps this disbelief right up until the critical moment: when Catra turns to her and offers her hand to Adora, lovingly asking her if she's ready to go. That, is the moment when we finally see Adora give herself over to the idea of their love, she suspends her disbelief… only to have the moment so cruelly ripped away by Horde Prime...

As it so turns out, this sequence of events has happened before, almost exactly down to the frame by frame:: it happened during Save the Cat, when Adora offered her hand to Catra. These moments are visually similar, emotionally parallel, and story parallel as well. Here are the two scenes, and while you look at them, consider how the girls are arranged compositionally with each other:

What we have here is visual parallels, many more of which we'll discuss later. But, it goes deeper than that:: because on closer consideration, we see that the girls are arranged ‘mirror’ to each other. For example:

::In Save the Cat, Adora offers her hand to Catra from the left, and in the dream Catra offers her hand to Adora from the right-

::When Prime electrocutes Catra after she reaches for Adora’s hand, she falls downward on the right; when Adora is trapped by Prime, she sinks downward on the left, with her tears showing the direction of her descent (note, Catra’s tears were not depicted, but she is crying as Prime shocks her). This mirroring is shown repeatedly throughout the two episodes, and not just during the dream itself.

So why are these moments mirrored?

That's what this theory aims to prove, with all the muster that it can:: this mirroring is a purposeful artistic collaboration between the art and writing teams, letting us know by way of it, that we're suppose to understand how these scenes are parallel: with the meaning of this being that one girl is mirroring the other’s actions in order to save them.

Therefore, in theory:: what we're seeing during the dream is Catra mirroring the heroic love Adora shows for Catra during Save the Cat, and all of what we see in the dream is actually Catra showing her true love, is the true beginning of her love confession, and is done to save Adora. As for the other deeper, more involved reason, it is that Adora and Catra are actually parallel characters throughout the series, who vary by circumstance, but are struggling with much the same issues. (a discussion for another time, however)

For instance:: consider how similar the virus that Adora is fighting during her time in the Heart chamber is to the mind control that Catra fought in Save the Cat:: Prime is using the virus to control Adora, and she ultimately is able to reject Prime's control because of Catra’s actions- much like Catra did, after Adora showed up in Save the Cat to restore their love, telling Catra to fight Prime’s control, so that they can be home together again.

And here's the thing: if the artists and writers go to such lengths to make these scenes parallel… even moreso, the characters are mirrored, doesn't the meaning of it therefore demand that Catra be with Adora during her dream, to help her fight free of Prime’s control by showing her love to Adora, just like Adora did for Catra during Save the Cat?

Now really, what confirms this theory is the entire arc of the show, which, *puffs up cheeks* is a bit too much to cover here, so I'll save us some time and stick to a couple of themes instead. One of these will be the Catradora love arc, as it is integral to the next visual cues.

And these cues are that Catra’s truest love is shown during Adora’s dream, something which we don't see Catra do before this moment. So, sit tight for a bit, because this'll take some explaining-

Visual cues #2 and #3: Catra’s most earnest love is shown in the dream, and it's both what Adora needs to survive, and is fundamental to Catra’s redemption-

Redemption arcs are popular for a reason, and because the next cues relate so strongly to Catra's redemption, I'll be talking about how Catra’s redemption is fully realized by the honest and earnest love she shows for Adora, inside the dream as well as right before it.

In order for Catra to complete her redemption, or since that's cliche, ::for Catra to realize her best self:: she has to accept her truth as the absolute total romantic that she is, who through the braveness of her confession of love, is the one who helps their dreams come true, and brings Catradora into canon.

This is because, in all seriousness, Catra is and always has been a romantic, she's just blocked by her own traumatic experiences (plz consult Princess Prom if confused about how Catra is a romantic, 😼😹). And, she's always known she was in love with Adora- who, unlike Catra, never quite realizes her full feelings until Catra’s confession. And Catra needs to redeem herself by showing this love, because she chose to deny her love to Adora, as well as to herself, at the end of Promise after seeing how very little love and understanding Adora had to give to her in season 1. This next set of visual cues is all about how we see Catra’s feelings and actions change to reflect her true feelings of love, and that through accepting her own love for Adora, is able to help Adora to succeed in her final task.

::As Adora faces down her final challenge of disabling the Heart, Catra makes what could best be described as a decision of ‘radical love’: that she's willing to give everything she has- to help, love, and support Adora. We first see Catra’s decision to show such love right before the dream when she swears to stay by Adora’s side, and she then fully completes this love during the dream when we see Catra show her precious love for Adora.

In the dream, the Catra we see is much more tender, vulnerable, and intimate, than we’ve ever seen her be at any other time previous to this point in the series… her love is even more earnest than during their earliest memories as children. That's because we’re seeing a completely novel and honest expression of Catra's love, one which Catra hasn't been willing to show before this. Catra really needs to show her full feelings to redeem herself, not just a last second love confession. What we're seeing during the dream is her truest feelings, without her own self doubt or fears of vulnerability blocking her.

And this new love we see is part of the decision which Catra makes, right before the dream, swearing that she will stay with Adora no matter what, letting Adora know she has her full love and support as Adora faces her final task. This decision is the other half of the visual cue #2, and here’s the two moments together::

Is Catra ending up positioned so similarly just coincidence, or does it have deeper meaning as well? A couple things for consideration:

Firstly: Adora probably doesn't notice this shift in Catra’s behavior, especially before the dream, as Adora is completely focused on her burden of saving-the-entire-universe-along-with-every-last-person-in-it, which is rather a lot to expect one girl to do... even if she is She-ra. Also note: Adora is a romantically oblivious person, so there's that, too. And since she's so preoccupied by mortal peril, it really doesn't make sense for the sweet and loving Catra we see in the dream to originate from Adora’s subconscious, as Catra has never shown Adora this tender, loving version of herself: and so, it makes more sense that the magic of the simulation would be drawing from somewhere else entirely: it draws on Catra’s own feelings of love.

I know, these scenes vary in mood significantly, but the difference we're seeing in the dream is actually a heightened version of the love Catra shows before it, one where Catra is not only showing Adora that she values and supports her, but that Catra quite literally feels precious love for Adora. Catra clings to her, letting her know that she is treasured above all else, which is really, really REALLY sweet, and also really really not in line with how Catra has acted up to this point in the series...

Catra loves Adora, this is central to her arc, even during the times when she's aligned so strongly against her. Her story is about learning to accept her love, and she's reestablishing her love for Adora during these scenes... this is the total truth of her love and affection, that is.

She’s already established that she's willing to risk herself to protect Adora, such as when she tackles Melog on Krytis. But, Catra protecting Adora from harm physically isn't enough to fully redeem herself: she's also got to show the romantic love she feels which she denied to Adora so long ago. This love she feels is something that Adora continuously teases Catra over, constantly ruining the moment by misinterpreting Catra’s feelings simply as attraction, never fully realizing or acting on the romantic implications. This happened as recently as when Catra jumped into the fire to save Adora... Adora is a romantic idiot. (don't you worry, I say this with fondness) This is part of Catra's test: even though Adora never gives her a sign that she feels romantic love as well, Catra has to show her love because that's what it has always been about for her. Loving Adora properly means Catra has to accept Adora as she is, and not let her own romantic frustration block her. It's also simply the right thing to do, as they are out of time, and could all die if Adora fails... Adora's story, on the other hand, has been about becoming the hero, and Catra has to accept that yes, in total reality, Adora simply has never considered what she wants because of her burdens.

As Adora faces her final task and is feeling crushed by the weight of her burdens and fears of failure, Catra has to show this love to counter Adora’s own obliviousness and internalized emotional barriers, as Catra realizes how Adora really doesn't "get it" right up until Catra’s love confession. Adora is not seeing what she has to live for, and Catra's fully accepting Adora as who she is helps Catra to see how she can help Adora, because Adora's romantic awkwardness is really more about her emotional trauma than her love for Catra- Adora loves Catra, that much is clear. But is it romantic love? Catra takes a risk and shows her true feelings, because she knows Adora is struggling, and they are out of time... so no matter what, Catra has to show her romantic love to Adora, and luckily she's able to do so during the dream (because of the help of Etheria's magic).

We also need to talk about how Catra stands with Adora: in both moments she chooses to stand behind Adora. Catra is showing her true support to Adora, and her most honest feelings of love- something I discussed in my Promise discussion is how Catra never wanted power for herself, she just wanted to be safe, and to be with Adora. Here we have Catra, definitively showing after all this time that she doesn't want power, she just wants to love Adora.

The Catra we see in seasons 1-4 rejected Adora as She-ra, seeing her as two faced for ignoring and then abandoning her to continued abuse while fighting for others, breaking her final promise as she did. This was a trauma decision, but Catra is done letting trauma control her life. So here we see Catra choose to support and love Adora no matter what, like she always wanted to do, and she's even choosing to support Adora as the hero. This is further demonstrated as true during the dream, as Catra (albeit jokingly) asks Adora to save her from a determined Glimmer.

All in all, the Catra we see in the dream is very unlike anything we’ve seen before, she's outwardly in love, feelings which Adora herself feels but struggles to understand. And that Catra ends up positioned so similarity is a cue that Catra is allowing her true love to be shown during the dream. It's exactly what Adora needs to feel coming from Catra, as years of being abused and new hardships have convinced Adora that sacrifice is the only thing that makes her worthy of love- Mara tells her “You're worth more than what you can give to other people, you deserve love, too”. Sadly, when you watch this scene you see that Adora has a hard time accepting Mara's words, she shys away from them instead.

Catra’s choosing to stay with Adora, and then show her most earnest love inside the dream, helps Adora to see how she deserves to be loved: as the person she is, and not only as a hero. Catra is the only person who loved Adora before she was She-ra, and her love for her has never been about her being a hero, like Adora was told she had to be by Shadow Weaver.

That was something done out of malicious intent, as Shadow Weaver did it to control Adora and to prepare her as her sacrifice. Young Catra was there when it happened to Adora, and always knew that it was done out of some dark intent (hence her frustration during the battle of Thaymore- “Duhhh did yah just figure that out??”). Catra constantly shows that she is wise to manipulations.

... And Adora is still stuck on this trauma: the love that Catra shows Adora helps her see past her own hurt.

::Ok. I say this next part with all the sincerity I can: expecting Catra to carry the entire burden of their romance all on her own is rather a lot to expect her to be able to do. And yet… she does it. She's the one who confesses her love, she's the one who kisses Adora, and in the dream, she shows Adora that she's in love with her. This is because Catra is a person who understands what she wants. She chooses to have faith that their love is real, and so she shows her heart to Adora. How does Catra trust enough in love, considering her past mistakes, and all trauma that she's been through?

People mostly think that Catra post season 5 would be a person who is still in a state of hurting from her past, that she constantly struggles with self hatred and doubts. But, ask yourself: is that how Catra is portrayed, or do we see a person who has faced her trauma so that she can live free of it?

That Catra would be able to do this so totally is what I think throws so many people about Catra. After all, most people who have trauma struggle with it continuously, so why wouldn't Catra struggle like this too… people have a hard time accepting that she is able to change her behavior so much for the better. But, don't let that stop you from seeing her as she is presented to be, there's powerful reasons why Catra is like she is, Noelle wouldn't take a shortcut in this. The reasons are there... it's just… complicated.

Probably too complicated to cover here, but I'll try to summarize a theme here: Catra is a survivor. That's what her attitude is, and her arc. She's survived ever since that day when Shadow Weaver threatened to kill her as only a small child, and she’s survived many other near deaths and hardships getting to this point. And because of that, she's found what she really wants to live for, and she's become too strong against others hurting her to let them control her. This strength includes against her own bias of self judgement over her past actions, because she understands how her actions were the product of manipulative abuses by others who wanted to control her. She knows trauma, in fact she's somewhat blessed in this ability (see this meta). What Catra does during the dream and her love confession is to reject ALL of the trauma, the falseness, the negativity, and hurt that's been put into both her AND Adora all of their lives. She's way too strong to let her own fears block her, and as she sees Adora struggling with her own fears, Catra gives her full heart to Adora because Catra knows how important it is to want to live and to love, and if she can just get Adora to understand that too, then she can save her.

... because Catra is brave, perhaps the bravest person in all of SPOP, she comes through to save Adora from Adora's own fears by showing her the power of love. Catra sees Adora for who she is better than anyone else can: she sees her humanity, and her struggles. And seeing is very important to our next cue::

Cue #3 ‘I’m YOUR idiot’

During Save the Cat, as Adora watches Catra teetering on the edge of the platform, she implores Catra to keep on fighting. She tells her: “you've never listened to anyone in your life, are you really going to start now?”

Catra responds by very fondly calling her an idiot.

And Adora freely accepts this, saying:

“I know.”

Then we get this frame, as shown above: Adora sees Catra, and how she's always tried to find safety from those that would hurt her by not letting them control her life.

Catra only ever listened to one person: she listened to Adora, and their promise... hence the ‘idiot’ part. And Adora is saying, as she accepts being called an idiot, that ‘I should have seen it sooner, and why my love was so important. You always felt like you had to fight to survive, and I was suppose to be different than those who hurt you. I was wrong not to understand sooner, and I shouldn't have hurt you like I did.'

And she proves it to Catra with her next words: “I'm going to take you home.”

Home. The thing Catra felt she had lost when Adora abandoned her at the Horde. Adora is saying: ‘I know this is what you want.’

‘So, live.’

::In the second frame, we see Catra show absolute acceptance of her love for Adora. It's just like Adora accepting being Catra’s idiot: Catra is telling Adora: 'Don't you see how I love you? You tease me, but this is not because I like you, it's because I'm crazy about you. I'm in love with you. And I want you to see this, my silly, beautiful love. Because I want you to know how I love you. I should have seen why my love was so important sooner, and I never should have left you."

‘I do freely admit that I am your idiot.’

‘And I know you. I know that this is what you really want. And that it hurts you that you were made the hero, and how everyone expects so much of you, but they never seem to see how much it hurts you.’

‘And I know that what you want is to be loved.’

‘I see you. I know you.’

‘So... live.”

It's exactly what Adora needs to see to accept love, and not let her trauma stop her. This is part of what helps Adora overcome Prime’s virus so she can absorb the Heart's power: she needed to see that she's loved. Much like Catra did, back on Prime’s ship.

Sidebar discussion 1: thoughts regarding this theory-

How exactly does the dream come to be, how does Catra experience its creation, all of these finer points we kinda hafta leave to the 'magic' that happens. We can't know exactly how it happened, but maybe we don't need to.

As to why didn't they didn't just tell us, *if* this theory is true, that is- probably because She-ra's ending is beautiful, it's hard to imagine it being any more beautiful than it already is. It's worth watching again and again: not having everything spelled out for us just makes us want to watch it more. -etheriadearie

Part 4: How everything is mirrored starting well before the dream, as well as after🪞♾🪞

All of Heart Part 2 is a mirror of Save the Cat, starting from the very beginning. And, if you look carefully you can see stylistic elements repeated throughout each (mirroring, compositional arrangements, use of green in both to represent Prime’s corruption, etc.) They are different enough that each is worthy of being called an artistic masterpiece of its own, but everything in them is related, and what happens as Catra saves Adora is very much the story of Save the Cat being retold.

Catra’s decision to return to help Adora inside the Heart chamber is synonymous with Adora’s decision to face Horde Prime on his flagship. Neither have a plan worth mentioning, both know they could fail, but they have to try, no matter what. They love each other too much not to try.

… and the other is totally dismayed when they show up to save them, knowing how perilous their situations are, as they had resigned themselves to their fates.

Oh, hey Shadow Weaver. Looks like you slipped in to be a stand in for Horde Prime ? Could this be because you were the real villain of SPOP all along ?

Even though the one is so unhappy that the other is risking themselves like they are, each girl continues to fight to free the other. They need the other to see how much they care.

Above: Adora makes a similar declaration of love to Catra's in cue #2, more mirroring 🪞

Sidebar discussion 2: Catra’s strong connection to magic-

A subplot of She-ra is how Catra unlearns her negative perception of magic she has from it being used against her as a child by Shadow Weaver, and instead comes to see magic as something beautiful. Even though Catra professes a strong dislike of it “why does everything have to be so weird with you guys ?” (s5ep8), magic constantly seeks her out.

It starts during Promise, when Catra’s subconscious seemingly guides the memories they see, ending with her seeing her inner child's hurt. It continues in the Portal episodes when she's given up hope, and after trying to destroy herself, instead returns as Corrupted Catra, a magical being with knowledge and purpose. Then, in season 5, Melog chooses Catra, she nervously accepts their friendship and is surprised to finds them to be very good friend to her.

And so, during the dream, as Catra and Adora lie mere feet from the center of Etheria’s magic, it reaches out to help them- it is a living thing, and Catra welcomes its help, proving she has incredible harmony with magic, and by allowing herself to work with it during the dream, she completes her journey of unlearning her bias- because the truth of Etheria’s magic is love.

Like Adora's jumping off the platform after Catra falls, Catra refuses to give up, and finds a way to get to Adora~

Sidebar discussion 3: Horde Prime’s virus

Another bridge between our girls is that when the monster attacks Catra, she's infected by Prime’s virus along with Adora. This is another route by which their minds can be connected (see Catra’s right hand, above) which begs the question: is everything that Adora sees in the dream just an elaborate cruelty of Horde Prime's?

I'm going with no, because of the visions which Adora has before the dream. Most of them happen well before the infection reaches Adora’s location, and their meanings don't really make sense as part of Prime’s deceit. He also says “So this is where you've run to hide" when he interrupts Adora's conversation with Mara.

It makes more sense that it is as Razz says: "You cannot control magic, magic simply is" and the magic is communicating with Adora and with Catra. It is rather, that Catra manages to use Prime's virus against him, as she's faced his control before. Her personal knowledge of his technology likely means Catra knows to help Adora overcome his control, and this along with her confession, helps Adora to break free of his control.

As Adora struggles with her final duty as She-ra to stop the heart, feeling alone in the face of it because she alone is She-ra, the only one who supposedly can do it, she's feeling crushed by the weight of a millennia old war and other's past cruelties forced onto her life. She believes it's too much for her to do alone, and that she's not a good enough hero.

Catra’s ultimate answer to Adora is: 'Don't be.’

Catra is telling Adora to stop being the hero just long enough to realize what she already has, because she's not alone. She needs help, but it's right there with her- she doesnt have to do it alone, no one should.

And so, by asking her to stay, Catra is telling Adora: 'Forget about being She-ra, and right now instead just focus on wanting to live... because if you don't live, then I can't help you. I know, this is hard. But if you can just accept that you want to be with me, then we can figure this out, together.'

And that's exactly what they do- they face the heart together.

Adora accepts love, and so Catra is able to help her absorb the Hearts power.... because love is the strongest thing in the entire universe... 💞

A few closing thoughts regarding this theory: We don't have a lot of time with the romance between Catra and Adora, as their kiss is the apex moment. But, by way of these cues perhaps us seeing them in the dream at their most romantic is real. When Adora wakes up, she doesn't even have to say anything about what she saw- Catra was there, helping her. One of the reasons why the kiss and Adora's confession of love back to Catra seems so pure is because she's understanding Catra perfectly. In fact they both are, because of the dream they shared together.

Considering how short She-ra is, for them to actually share this romantic moment together would be is key. And I feel it makes sense that they do, as such a beautiful moment deserves to live on in their (our) memories... and a way by which they could share this moment may very well exist, *if* this theory is correct.

Noelle and Friends may have cleverly given us this answer, and as beloved as the dream scene is, I'd like to think that they're together during it. Either way, She-ra's ending is beautiful.

As always, thanks for reading... I hope that you enjoyed it. Hopefully it's not just stating the obvious ? Feel free to let me know- 😅 And I couldn't get to all of the endings complexities here (for instance, Adora's confusion on love and needing someone like Catra to show her the way is very interesting, and worth exploring), and, believe me I, too, have questions. Feel free to ask questions or give me feedback, as always I will try to respond!! Also, I will be posting something related to this regarding their arcs in the near future~ hopefully. Until then...

"Don't you get it ? I love you. I always have. So please, just this once. Stay!" 🏳️‍🌈💞💋🏳️‍🌈

~EtheriaDearie

::As always, thanks for a like or reblogg!! I'm still new to tumblr, so thank you for reading- ❤️🙇

P.S. Here's the short version of this post. Yes, the "cliff notes" 😅. For a quick share with your friends!!

[cowboy-bumblebee]

The Will of Mother

Chapter 8 - Love Long Forgotten

Warnings: violence, blood

Reader is AFAB but gender neutral pronouns are used

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Summary: Lady Dimitrescu finally has you within her grasp, but she has no plans to make it a slow ending

It was difficult to navigate with Ethan. He was quiet and careful. But too fast. It made it hard to keep up, if I didn't keep a constant eye on him then I was screwed. I'd lose him and I'd be dead, especially if Alcina spotted me before I spotted her.

I stood in the little foyer outside the Duke's room, staring at the statues that now had their faces. The torches above the door that supposedly led out were lit. And there was absolutely no way I was going to continue on by myself, so I waited as Ethan bartered with the Duke.

My mind was racing, I desperately wanted to help Alcina. But at this point would she let me? Her daughters are all dead and she's seen me running around with Ethan. There's no doubt in my mind she assumes I helped kill her girls. I don't entirely blame her either, it's not like I've even tried to stop him!

The door behind me opened and Ethan stepped out, looking like he could take on the world. Or at least he seemed to think he could. He passed me and walked to the double doors, prepared to swing them open.

"There you are!" Alcina's voice rang out and I froze, the clicking of her heels on the hard floor ringing out, "I won't let you get away from me! Either of you!"

Ethan ran to me, grabbing hold of my wrist before dragging me behind him. Alcina swung those long knife-like nails of hers in our direction, barely missing me and destroying a vase with flowers nearby.

"Come on, pick up your feet!" Ethan shouted at me, finally pulling me back to reality enough to keep up with him. We both sprinted down the hall, up a set of stairs and out another door. We were by the fireplace. "Go up the stairs, I'm going to lead her outside." Ethan tried to instruct me quietly, knocking a table over in front of the door like it had done anything.

Sprinting up the stairs, I slid into the wine room directly by the top of the stairs and crouched next to the door, listening. Doors slamming open, Ethan mocking Alcina. Running followed by the fast steps of someone wearing heels. More sounds of doors opening and shutting. And then silence.

Finally I realized I didn't know what to do now. He hadn't said go back to the Duke or wait here for him. He didn't want to leave without him surely, so now what was his grand plan?

The silence was all that answered me. Slowly standing up, I stepped outside the room. More silence. I made my way to the stairs, observing the destroyed furniture downstairs as I began to walk down. My footsteps were nonexistent compared to how loud the previous events had been.

At the bottom of the stairs, I started searching the room for anything useful. Maybe I could put myself somewhere safe even! Alcina wouldn't get to me and I could explain everything. I wasn't working with Ethan, he took me away from her. Yes, I'd tell her. I tried saving her daughters, I really did! I wanted to help her avoid the fate they suffered!

Not many other thoughts made it past my head as a large hand grabbed me by the back of my neck, picking me straight up off the ground. I let out a pained scream, grabbing ahold of the hand as I kicked my feet out and flailed.

"That's enough running out of you! I've had enough of your foolishness!" Alcina shouted, carrying me quite painfully through the halls. She stormed through the rooms at an impossible speed, the layout of the Castle clearly engrained into her mind.

Through the dining room and kitchen, down into the basement. A dungeon. Damp cold stone and dim lighting. Beyond the room we were in, I could see bodies hanging in white sheets or bags from the ceiling. Somewhere there was a steady drip, but I couldn't say what the liquid dripping was. And I didn't want to know.

Flinging me to the ground inside one of the cells, Alcina slammed the door behind her before storming towards the far wall. She flipped a wooden table out of her way, giving her access to wrist and ankle shackles along with something to hold me at my waist. And then with all the murder in her eyes, she turned to me.

"Alcina please!" I scrambled to my feet, running to and slamming into the rusty metal door. My hands were grabbed and held together by one of hers as she dragged me to the wall, lifting me by my wrists. I couldn't get a single word to stick in her mind as she swiftly yet roughly locked me into the shackles.

"I could have given you everything. All the pleasure in the world! All the riches and care! Love, even! You were mine and you disobeyed me! Killed my daughters! Sabotaged my home!" Alcina screamed, turning and destroying the stained wooden table that she had flipped out of the way.

"No! Alcina, please, I would never harm your girls! I tried to save them! I tried to help but Ethan got to them before I did! I didn't even know Bela had died when you found her!"

"Oh really? You think I'm going to believe the desperate lies of a traitor!? You have ruined all that I had! I have lost everything to you and that stupid manthing!" Alcina spat at me, grabbing my jaw painfully so I had no choice but to look at her, "The only reason I haven't ripped you to shreds is because Mother Miranda needs you. She's deemed you fit. And I had the choice to kill you or keep you alive as I forced the Cadou into you. I was going to feed it to you, Pet. Make us a lovely dinner. Wake you up with my daughters and myself by your side. But now...? Well I'll just drain every last drop out of you and send you to Mother Miranda, cold and dead with the Cadou in your stomach." Alcina lowered her voice as she roughly let go of me, snatching up a metal trough and placing it beneath me.

I started to panic as I realized where she was going with this. I wasn't one for begging, but oh how I begged and screamed for her to stop. To change her mind. To trust me, to give me another chance. The tears flowed and I couldn't help but sob and beg. But none of my words even gave her pause. One of her hands held my head down as the other rose to my neck, and in a flash her claws were out once again. And with one swift slice, I could feel the warm liquid slowly seep down my chest and legs, small metallic thuds heard as it dripped down into the trough.

"Dear Pet of mine, this won't be pleasant. Slow and painful, so that every second my daughters suffered may be felt by another person." Alcina had a somber look, almost like she was ready to give up.

With a quick, final kiss, Alcina left the room. A strangled cry for help left me as I threw my head back, slamming it on the stone wall. The wound on my neck felt like a burning sting, one that left a hot sensation spreading to the rest of my limbs before turning into a sharp pain. She cut me deep enough to kill me. But not deep enough to make it quick.

I felt weak as I tried to thrash against the hold of the shackles, getting nowhere in my attempts. Though I may not die soon, I knew it was only a matter of time before I could lose consciousness completely. That was the only peace I could find in this moment. It would not be quick, but I wouldn’t be awake through it all.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cold. Something cold was under me. Hard and rough, it’s scratching my back. It hurts my head. Cold liquid spread over my neck, spilling down under me. It stopped the flow of the warm blood leaving my body, but I could still feel where my clothes were soaked. I could still feel where the blood dripped down off of me.

I was being held. A warm pair of arms, I was being held against someones chest. Weakly, I tried to raise my hands and look for the person holding me. It felt as if I were moving in slow motion.

"It's ok... gonna get you outta here... stay with me." A mans voice spoke, sounding distant and muffled. I only caught every couple of words. Dad?

No. No... Dad was missing. He couldn't be holding me. My throat stopped bleeding. Alcina hurt me. Alcina! Was she... no. It was a man's voice I had heard. Where’s Alcina? Will she still listen to me? Did she put the Cadou in me like she said?

My hands shot down to my chest as fast as they could, feeling up and down and around for any sign that she’d cut me open and put the Cadou inside of me. No stitches, no cuts, no pain. She must not have had the chance, after all I wasn’t dead yet.

My arms started to tingle, the feeling coming back to my fingers. Then my hands. The rest of my arms, traveling up as the feeling returned to my feet. I started to wiggle and move myself about, trying to fight who held me. What if it was one of Mother Miranda’s Lords? One of her goons sent to retrieve me once Alcina failed?

"Hey, hold still. You're hard to move when you're wiggling around like that." He griped, setting me down on something wooden. A bench?

Opening my mouth, I tried to speak only for my throat to feel scratchy. The back of my throat started to burn, leading me into a coughing fit.

The man helped me to lay on my side, trying to sit me up so he could help me drink water. Slowly opening my eyes, I found Ethan to the be the man helping me. I should’ve thought so.

I found myself on a wooden bench in one of the houses in the village, the room lit only by candles. The windows were covered by their wooden shutters. Any pictures of Mother Miranda or her children were laid face down.

Pushing the water away once I had enough, I let myself plop back down on the wooden bench. The back of my head ached, but not nearly as much as my throat did. It was a sharp, burning pain that came and went each time I swallowed or tried to speak.

“Hey, just rest. Don’t talk, don’t move. Just rest. We’re safe.” Ethan spoke softly, trying to soothe me into relaxing. But I couldn’t find it in me to sit still. “Lady Dimitrescu’s dead, her and her daughters. We’re not in the castle. We’re safe.”

I froze at Ethan’s words as he continued to try and coax me into relaxing. Dead? She was dead…?

But I need to help her! I was going to save her, tell her to leave! I knew he was going to kill her but she wouldn’t listen to me!

“Look, I need you to stay here. You… you lost a lot of blood. I’d venture to guess maybe too much. So until you can move around safely, you’re staying here. I have something to take care of. So please just stay here.” Ethan informed me, putting a knife in my hands and making me tighten my grip on it. “Stay safe and stay in here.”

With that, Ethan left. It was quiet in this house. All I could do was stare at the ceiling above me, the tears pricking at the corners of my eyes and threatening to fall. I bit my knuckle, trying to hold back any sounds. It would hurt to make noise. Shutting my eyes tightly, all I could do was sit there silently, hoping that this nightmare would soon end.

[enbylesbianism]

ANY WAY THE WIND BLOWS: Simon Snow trilogy wrapped! (review)

Hi, there! It took me a while to finish this post, as I could talk about it for... a long time (not necessarily a good thing), but I got it! I like praise, so if anyone wants to tell me I did a good job... Also, I might edit this post later on. I don’t remember anything else I’d like to add, but I wouldn’t be surprised if I did after posting. My brain does not obey me. Anyways, off to it! By the way, I won’t give this book a real rating.

While this is a review on Any Way the Wind Blows, I intend on analysing some points of the overall series too. The book starts where Wayward Son left off, the end of the road trip, Simon and Baz having problems in their relationship, Penelope helping Shepard with his curse... and the whole situation of the NowNext vampires. Rainbow Rowell only seems to remember the first part. That leaves us with the second book of the series ignored almost completely, with the exception of Simon and Baz’s feelings as well as Shepard’s existence.

Don’t get me wrong, aspects of the book are mentioned, but never in a truly important way. Lamb, the Vampire King, is mentioned by Simon, but only focusing on his and Baz’s relationship, never about the fact that there are a bunch of vampires (supposedly ‘evil’) in the U.S. but I guess what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, right? I could count on one hand the times the NowNext vampires were mentioned (like, literally, this isn’t an exaggeration, I looked up ‘NowNext’ on the e-book and only got five results), all of them either being one of them considering telling someone else about it, then not following through with it, or dismissing it as a concern for Lamb. Which makes the plot of Wayward Son completely useless for the trilogy. Now, that wouldn’t matter as much if everything else had been properly developed, but we definitely can’t say that.

We are introduced to a brand new, poorly developed villain, Smith-Smith Richards, whose character arc is as ridiculous as his name. He’s one of the fake Chosen Ones that started appearing after the events of Carry On (and the only one to be mentioned and/or defeated, for that matter). It becomes clear that presenting as Simon Snow-ish is part of his brand, especially when Baz describes him as looking like the Netflix adaptation version of Simon, and that he was raised and guided by his uncle, who’s just... there. I don’t think it would’ve been hard to make him manipulating Smith-Smith into believing he’s the prophetic savior of the Magickal World, which would not only make both of their characters more interesting, but it could also serve as a parallel of Simon’s relationship with the Mage. Richards also has some special powers such as increasing a mage’s magic for a limited amount of time, but taking it away afterwards, as well as making someone immune from spells. It’s worth saying those aren’t skills that are usual in the Magickal World, or else there wouldn’t be so much confusion and shock from people (specially Baz and Penny, who would definitely have heard of something like this before), but we get no explanation on why or how Richard has them.

Then, we have the Salisbury’s. We, as readers, already know Lucy and Davy are Simon’s parents, making Ruth his grandmother. It’s noticeable that Rowell builds up to that discovery, by making Simon get along with Ruth instantly, him thinking about Lucy a lot etc. It makes us excited to read the part where they actually figure it out, to know how Simon would deal with that, him dealing with the fact that he’s the Mage’s son and the fact that, technically, he killed his father. I suppose that’s the point, but actually getting to that part was incredibly underwhelming. The way they discovered about Simon—being able to lift a family sword—hadn’t been mentioned or hinted at before. One would’ve expected Simon, who’s particularly interested in swords as it’s mentioned many times throughout the series, to notice a freaking Excalibur at the Salisbury’s place before. 

And speaking of noticing things: when it’s finally revealed that Simon is Lucy’s son and the Mage’s heir, Baz pointed out the uncanny similarities between his boyfriend and the deceased Watford principal. “Those narrow eyes. That tilt of his head. I thought... I thought he’d learned it. Was imitating it.” + “Merlin, Simon, you even look like him.”  (Any Way the Wind Blows, chapter 86) Simon was the Mage’s protégé for years and I assume the Magickal authorities knew that he was the one to inherit all of his money and personal belongings, but no one, in the whole British Magickal community, thought about them being related? I refuse to believe there were no conspiracy theorist teachers at Watford or that Mitali or even the Pitch’s alongside everyone who was against the Mage didn’t at least check to know if there was something behind those characteristics. Baz literally said (chapter 88), “I think it’s undeniable. I’d cast ‘Flesh and blood’ on them, but it would bounce right off of Snow (...)”, so there is a spell for that. Plus, we didn’t even have one whole chapter of Simon dealing with this information! The chapters (no more than five, out of ninety-one) were divided between Simon, Baz and Lady Ruth’s POVs. He’s the main character, so one would think he’d get more development.

Another point that felt rushed was the romance. While Simon and Baz’s relationship wasn’t, as it’s been a topic Rowell has explored for three books (we’re not counting Fangirl here, as their ‘participation’ on it was minor and their personalities weren’t as consistent as in the trilogy. Not that it is that consistent there), the others just felt like she wanted everyone to finish the trilogy with a pair. I’ll start with Shepard and Penny. There were fans who liked them together before Any Way the Wind Blows, but it wasn’t hinted at—it was more like a fandom thing. I personally like them as a couple, but it could have had development and, maybe, foreshadowing in Wayward Son. I mean, they did fight monsters during a huge part of a road trip together.

The next one I’ll talk about is Agatha and Niamh. I love them, don’t get me wrong. Actually, it’s precisely because I love them that I wish they’d gotten a better treatment. Niamh wasn’t introduced before Any Way the Wind Blows. I get why she wasn’t introduced in Carry On—it was interesting to see a character who wasn’t caught up in Simon and Baz’s drama during the school years—but a hint of her existence could’ve been left in Wayward Son. Agatha is an important character on it, and a mention of her father training an aspiring veterinary could’ve fit somewhere, as a hint, maybe. (Also, Lucy, the dog, being absolutely forgotten during this book when a lot of Agatha’s time is spent in a veterinary clinic...) Besides, we could get the vibes from them, but after they kissed, there was barely any content. We didn’t get them calling each other ‘girlfriend’ (or if they even like that label at this point), or the aftermath of the kiss, or a POV from Niamh. Or Niamh appearing the epilogue? If Agatha was taking care of the goats, I’m sure Niamh would have a part in that too. Still on Agatha’s character, but not on Niamh’s, it felt like Rainbow Rowell was setting up for aromantic and asexual Agatha, specially because of this quote: “It was like she'd pulled the feeling right out of my heart. I could have kissed her. (I still wish sometimes that I wanted to.) (That would feel like an answer to... the question of me. Then I could say, 'Oh, thats who I am. That's why I've been so confused.')” (Wayward Son, chapter 4).

And I was leaving the best (I need to be sure everyone knows I mean this sarcastically) of the romance topic for the end: Fiona and Nicodemus. It’s just... so forced and undeveloped. Not even because, to me, they’re both gay as hell. There was just... such a lack of development! I don’t think we had any interaction between the both of them before Any Way the Wind Blows. There was no foreshadowing or why would Fiona, a vampire hunter from a family of vampire hunters, would marry... a vampire! I’d already find it weird to see fanfiction of them as a crackship, but it’s canon?! Like, canon as in they’re going to get married and use Fiona and Natasha’s mother’s ring? Seriously, nothing will take from me that this is a lavender marriage (as I’ve already discussed with my best friend, which inspired this post of theirs.)

I’d also like to speak about a topic that’d been hinted throughout the series, especially post-Carry On, which is the criticism towards the Magickal Community in the U.K.. That criticism is very much embodied in Shepard’s character. It’s explicitly said that the British mages have some kind of supremacy towards other supernatural beings, such as vampires for example, gatekeeping literal magic. Up until relatively recently, mages with weak links with magic couldn’t attend Watford (and that’s a major plot point in the final book) and there’s a denial towards any other kind of magic except the ones that are part of their craft. Even within the Magickal community itself, there are more important families that are more likely to succeed, like Natasha receiving criticism for marrying Malcolm, as a Pitch. It felt pointless not to tackle the issues you’ve set up yourself in your own universe. Penelope has very strict morals related to magickal law and beliefs, something that she could’ve deconstructed, especially considering Shepard, her love interest, symbolises that. Another point related to that is, the trilogy is very clearly heavily inspired by Harry Potter, where many of those points are very clear (e.g. wizard supremacy in relation to other species, such as werewolves and domestic elves and the status quo that makes some traditionally magical families more influential than others, like the Malfoy’s vs. the Weasley’s), so it’s not an easily forgettable concept.

The series also had a lot of inconsistencies. The one I’ve seen talked about more often is Simon and Agatha’s... intimacy status, let’s call it that. Simon’s whole thing in the first book was that he struggled controlling his magic when experiencing intense emotions, which makes it hard to believe that he managed to have sex withount an... accident. Besides that, though, there’s this quote, “She (...) presses a kiss into my temple. No one has ever kissed me there. No one has ever kissed me anywhere but on my mouth” (Carry On, Chapter 27), but in Any Way the Wind Blows, when Simon’s about to have his wings cut, Agatha says, “It’s a strange feeling to look at someone’s chest and know it’s nothing to do with you anymore, but still to remember kissing every inch.” (Chapter 14)

So, we have established that Rainbow Rowell’s work, both character and plot driven, is flawed. “But we got the characters interacting for the closure of the series, at least!” Well... we got interactions between the canon romantic relationships, yeah. But besides that, we didn’t get much. There were no interactions between Agatha and Penny, or Shepard with Simon and Baz. Or Penny and her mother figuring stuff out. Or literally anyone with a therapist. And not gonna lie, the interaction we got between Baz and Dev was underwhelming, to say the least. Niall is nowhere to be seen, too.

Rainbow Rowell’s writing is beautiful: she writes poetic lines that make the book seem perfect at first glance, if you don’t think about it for too long. Her words are very shiny, but once you get use to that light and see what’s behind them, what’s between one shiny quote and another, it has so many flaws and plot holes that it reads like a first draft. There are many concepts in there that are genuinely good: the rest of the trilogy focused on the protagonist dealing with the trauma of being a child soldier instead of being entirely an adventure, Simon being unlabelled, a fake Chosen One that gives mages fake hope... Those are all good ideas, but so poorly explored that, despite being an entire book/trilogy, it still feels like a writing pitch or something among those lines.

I felt iffy about other things during my reading of the series, but they aren’t exactly plot points, so I’ll just list them below:

Mitali, Penny’s mom, including ‘discovering your bisexuality’ as a mid-life crisis thing 

As I’ve seen people talking about biphobia/bi erasure in the books, I’ll be including this post that features both unlabelled and bisexual individuals talking about the topic (it isn’t my place, as a lesbian, to talk about this, that’s why I decided not to do so.)

Romanticising of Baz’s suicide (a.k.a. chapter 61) in the first book. If you’re not in a good place mentally, like I was when I first read Carry On, I hope you know that a kiss or romance doesn’t help any mental illness you or others might have. Don’t let anyone use your guilt to manipulate you. Paraphrasing Alice Oseman in their graphic novel Heartstopper, love can’t cure a mental illness.

Any Way the Wind Blows was... very horny. I can’t point out how this makes the book bad exactly, but it wasn’t something I enjoyed. One of Rainbow Rowell’s strongest skills is that her quotes, when loose, are good. They tend to be poetic and just beautiful, overall. But in the... explicit scenes, these skills were barely used, and I felt like I was reading NSFW tweets off of someone’s private account on Twitter. Besides, the first two books of the series weren’t written like that, so the change was very sudden.

The older people could’ve been more explored. Penelope and Mitali’s relationship and how similar the both of them are compared to each other, Daphne and Professor Bunce’s insecurities and why they believed in Smith-Smith, Fiona, Nico, and Ebb... Also, the Mage and Lucy. We could’ve had more on them, y’know. 

The pop culture references. They made the book read even more like Twitter’s feed. Honestly, if I wanted to read prompts and nice ship content alongside memes from Twitter with some horny thoughts sprinkled all around, I would’ve opened the Twitter app. Or Tumblr, Instagram, whatever.

The POV switching felt lazy to me at times. It’s nice to know how different characters are experiencing that situation, yes, but sometimes, like during the discovery that Simon is a Salisbury, it read as if Rowell wanted to create tension, but couldn’t think of any other way to do it except the switching around.

Narrative wise, I think Simon and Baz should’ve spent more time broken up. 

[ddarker-dreams]

Pandora’s Box. Yan Chrollo x Reader

Warnings: Medicine mention, descriptions of anxiety, and implied minor character death. Word count: 2.7k.

A simple plan is the best kind to have. 

The less variables at play, the higher your rates of success are. You’ve anticipated some margin of error, a safety net of sorts, to be used if necessary. Everything within your realm of influence has been taken into account. Your friend in a car meeting you at a dead spot, a train ticket purchased with a prepaid visa card on a VPN, and a few precious pieces of jewelry to be pawned off at a later time. Scraping these assets together is a commendable feat, having to skulk around to make it this far.

Nothing feels out of the ordinary, you think. Your preparations are almost complete. All that’s left is to wait to ensure the beast in hiding cannot come for you.

Prayer doesn’t traditionally feel worth the effort -- any god that’d allow you to be subjugated to a hell such as this is no god worth pleading to -- but tonight is different. Tonight you pray to any deity that may spare you some pity, that this plan may succeed without a hitch. The time signals the beginning of the next phase, the most vital aspect. 

Tonight’s soup had an additional ingredient, a generous helping of sleep inducing pills. To avoid suspicion, you partook in the meal as usual, hoping to cancel out the effects later by ingesting a gratuitous amount of energy drinks. It served the original purpose of fending off fatigue, but not without presenting a unique set of problems of its own. The caffeine has served to heighten your anxiety, upping what was already a nerve-wracking experience to a new level. 

Your guts feeling like they’re rearranging themselves, your body not capable of forgoing fidgeting a single moment. No longer can you tell if it’s nausea, stomach pain, or hyperventilation. Maybe it’s everything at once. All you know is that you’ve never had your body working against you more than now. Every nerve is frayed, your senses on high alert to any shadow or noise.

Deep breaths no longer bring you reprieve. Each raggedy breath you manage to squeeze out is an accomplishment, overshadowed by the fear that he might hear you. How irrational a thought, that Chrollo would be capable of picking up on the differences in your breathing from afar. It doesn’t matter how illogical the worry may be. With Chrollo, you’ve learned that nothing is impossible. To expect the unexpected has been the mantra of your mind these past few months. 

Just a bit longer... I need to know he’s asleep for sure. Or else it’s over.

Your foot taps against the ground in a frantic rhythm, ears ringing like funeral tolls. The last time you dared peak into your shared room with Chrollo, he was supposedly fast asleep, out like a light. What should’ve been a cause for victory brought nothing but a fresh wave of dread. A guessing game ensues. Trying to decipher his body language from earlier for hints only serves to make you feel worse. You’ve been so cautious, walking on sheets of thin ice at every move. Chrollo hadn’t acted out of the ordinary to your knowledge. Not that he has a way of acting ‘ordinary’ anyways, your limited understanding of his person having to suffice. 

Should everything be going according to your design, your friend will be in position to pick you up. There’s no more stalling, the point of return ahead of you.

It’s time.

You do a final check over your mental checklist. Your backpack is stocked with the necessities: toiletries, a few changes of clothes, a filtered hydro flask, non perishable foods and your train ticket. To any onlooker it might look like you’re going hiking. Sporting worn sneakers, loose-fitting clothes, and having your hair pulled away from your face. This is really it. The culmination of sneaking around behind Chrollo’s back for months, unfolding before your very eyes. Everything is falling into place as it’s meant to.

You walk to the door. 

Each step you take is quiet as can be. Every shuffle of clothes, or the slightest of creaks from the floorboards, causes you to wince and pause. This penthouse has served as your personal circle of hell for months on end, the walls absorbing your cries and screams. You despise this place with every fiber of your being. The antique décor, the ancient texts that lay strewn about, the scent of sandalwood that you find nauseating. 

Ghosts of the past return to haunt you as you walk through different areas. Swirling around your head, they threaten to consume you, chipping away at your resolve. His hypnotic voice resonates in your mind like whispers of the serpent in the garden, tempting you. Weighing you down. Not even your own mind is a safe haven from his speech that disguises itself as flowery, when the reality is far more sinister. Chrollo’s words are constricting vines, lined with thorns, embedding themselves deeper into your flesh the harder you try to pry them out. 

“Don’t you remember how difficult your life was before me?” 

Another step.

“All those people who left you, who took advantage of you?” 

Your hands shake around your small, homemade EMP. It’s made from spare parts you managed to find around the penthouse, clumsily assembled through trial and error. The pulse it emits is next to nothing. Copper coils threaten to fall loose at any second when you raise it to the security system by the door. Holding your breath, you press down on the trigger. The device lets out rapid clicking sounds, the security monitor flickering before going blank. 

“I know you’ll come around.” 

Finally, come the excessive locks on the door. The compressed air you said you needed for cleaning is next up. The can is cool against your trembling fingers, white specs decorating the locks as you spray them over. With some persistence, they come undone, one after the other. Unshackling you from the depths. You open the door that’s mocked you relentlessly for months, withholding your prized freedom. 

“But even in the event that you don’t...” 

The surrounding world is a blur of colors. Your eyes don’t focus on any object for too long, scanning your surroundings for potential threats. It feels as if your stomach is in your throat when the elevator starts its descent. He had you up on the fiftieth floor? 

You fixate on the screen, numbers not flashing by fast enough for your liking.

40. 

20.

5. 

1.

“Well. There are always ways of overcoming inconveniences such as that.” 

It’s an extravagant lobby. Far more luxurious than you could ever have hoped to afford, this building being one of the most exclusive in Yorknew. The person at the front desk calls out and you ignore it. You must look mighty suspicious, not that you care. The priority now is escape. Running out the revolving door, crisp autumn air greets you. You’ve never felt more grateful for the bustling streets of the city. Even at night the city remains awake, making it easier to blend in. No one out here spares you a second glance as you weave in and out of fast paced crowds. 

23rd street. That’s where you’ll meet up with your friend, who will then transport you to the subway. Glancing up at the signposts, you realize you’ll be in for some walking. There’s no letting your guard down. Constantly looking over your shoulder, all you see are the faces of strangers. You’ve never felt so grateful to be a part of a crowd. 

Finally, after walking for what feels like an eternity, you spot your beacon of hope. A clothing store’s bright neon sign, which your friend sits parked in front of. Since these stores are closed this time of day, the crowd that once surrounded you have thinned out, yet you try not to fixate on the lack of cover. Jay walking across the street doesn’t prove to be an issue. The pollution from the city hides the stars behind a layer of smog, streetlamps your lone source of light.

Heart hammering in your chest, you tap on the window of her car with urgency. “Amelia, it’s me. [First].” 

You hear the doors unlock. 

Taking it as a sign she heard you, you waste no time swinging into the passenger seat of the car. Amelia immediately turns the keys, car humming to life. Your chest heaves with exhaustion from the draining events. This is it. The second to last step before you reclaim your freedom. It’s almost like a dream, the light at the end of a long tunnel. Amelia’s appearance is just as you recalled it. Hazel eyes, tan skin, long black hair, and an average build. Your heart leaps at the sight of her.

“I’ve been so worried about you,” your friend confesses in a hushed whisper. “[First], what... what happened? You completely fell off the face of the Earth for months. Then you contact me out of nowhere? What’s going on?” 

It isn’t easy meeting her eyes, so you don’t. “I... I don’t know if it’s safe to talk about it. The less you know, the better.”

She takes a moment to assess you before sighing. “Alright, I can tell this is serious. Just... I’m glad you’re alright.” 

Amelia begins driving without another word. Silence hangs in the air, offering a time to reflect. Your plan, Chrollo, what you’ll do next... it whirls around your head like a vortex. A gut feeling refuses to leave you alone whenever you picture his face. A dreadful thought that this entire escapade was too easy. Is it just your paranoia? It could very well be. Hugging your backpack closer to you for comfort, you’re startled by Amelia suddenly speaking up.

“The subway station, huh,” she reminiscences aloud, eyes flickering from the road to you. “So you’re leaving Yorknew?” 

There’s no way to continue dodging her questions. “... Yeah, I am.” 

“Where are you going?” 

It’s natural she’d have lots of questions. Had the situation been reversed, you’d have plenty of your own. For her wellbeing you don’t want to indulge more than necessary. Lying to someone who is helping you lives a sour taste in your mouth. It’s for her sake, you remind yourself. Having to involve Amelia in this at all was the last thing you wanted to do. 

“I’m going to Zaban City. I have some extended family there.” 

Amelia hums in confirmation to your story. “Your cousin, right?” 

“Right.” 

She stops pressing that particular subject, likely sensing your apprehension. You take advantage of the peaceful atmosphere and close your eyes. The sleeping pills from earlier are starting to grow more prominent. Losing consciousness is the last thing you need right now, but indulging in some much needed rest sounds too inviting. 

“There was something else I was wondering about.” Amelia starts, earning your attention. Looks like sleep will have to wait for later. You yawn, stretching your weary limbs, and wait for her to continue. She smiles, dark eyelashes fluttering shut in deep thought.

“Oh, sweet [First],” she whispers your name in the gentlest of tones, and looks over at you. “Why are you so selfish?” 

You blink, the words not settling in immediately. “What...?” 

She continues without missing a beat. “You used to be so envious of me. Always pretending to play nice, because you were too passive to say how you really felt. How you hated me.” 

“Amelia? What are you talking about? I... I never hated you, what--” 

“Even now you can’t bring yourself to admit the truth,” she sighs. “Not that I’m surprised. You’ve always cared way too much about what people think. Why would now be any different?” 

Her unexpected attack on your character has you shifting in your seat. Every word that leaves her lips is in her voice, yet feels so different than her normal character. Did something happen in the time Chrollo took you away? Anxiety rears its ugly head at the line of questioning. You take a sudden interest in your fingers, playing with them on your lap. 

“I don’t understand where any of this is coming from.” You admit, eyebrows furrowing together. The shift in atmosphere is tangible. What was once a warm reunion under stressful times has corrupted into a frosty confrontation. These insecurities of hers that laid dormant in your heart... why is she bringing this up now? In your most vulnerable hour? Nothing is making sense. These ugly feelings of yours were only ever confided in one person. 

“You knew it’d be a danger to my life to contact me. You knew that, and still you did it all the same. I wonder why that is. Could it be... that you wouldn’t care if I died? If I was tortured for aiding your escape?” 

Your heart drops. This knowledge... how can she know any of this? Amelia used the word escape, clear as day. Is that a coincidence? You look over at the car door, seeing it’s locked. Something’s not right here, you deduce. I don’t know what it is exactly, but something is very wrong...! 

She continues on. “I really do want to know what your justification for this is. Out of everyone you could’ve picked for help, you specifically chose me, knowing the danger it’d bring. Did you think I’d be spared in some sort of miracle?” 

The spare moonlight streaming in illuminates Amelia’s face, highlighting how pale her skin looks. Veins that would normally not have been so prominent have a blue tint, her lips a similar shade. Your eyes drop to the unnaturally large scarf that surrounds her neck. It’s not that cold out yet, why is she wearing something so cumbersome? Reaching out with unsteady hands, you pull the fabric back. Your gut feels like it’s been punched at the sight, eyes widening in horror. 

On the back of her neck is an antenna, with bat wings on the end. 

Shit! Shit, shit, shit-- 

In a frenzy, you stretch forward, searching for the button to unlock the car door. The second you find it, it’s pressed, and you unbuckle your seatbelt. You hear her speaking up again. Your heart feels like it’s about to burst from your chest as you jump out the car, grateful it isn’t going too fast. Skin meeting asphalt, you hiss at the pain, rolling onto your side. None of that matters now. How did he do it? He has to be nearby, maybe you can still make it to the station in time. Your head hurts from the impact, legs wobbling like jelly. 

It’s difficult to focus. You grit your teeth, utilizing the remnants of your strength to get to your knees. Why did the caffeine have to wear off so soon...? It was going so well. You finally had your chance, your time to take back your life. To go back to how things were. Struggling to get to your feet, you throw your backpack off, praying the lost weight will help you get up. 

“You never answered my questions,” calls a deeper voice. You gulp back acidic bile as a hand is extended in front of you. “I was hoping you would.” 

Your head hangs down. It’s over. For a transgression such as this, you imagine you’re in for quite the punishment. How funny a thing fate is. Similar to streams of rushing water, there are many twists and turns, leading you down paths you never wanted to go. Fingernails dig into the sensitive flesh of your palms, the pain anchoring your wandering mind to reality. All other parts of your body have lost feeling. Numbness is what you’ve come to know. 

The devil incarnate bends over, taking your tearstained face into his fingers, and lifting it to meet his eyes. An abyss of grey stares back at you, devoid of humanity. Taking pleasure in besting you yet again. Disappointment is mixed within an interest to see what you’ll do next. There’s no smile on his face as you’ve come to expect. You see an empty shell of a man glowering down at you, from a place just out of reach. 

“I can’t say I’m too pleased about this, [First]. We’ll need to have a long discussion, don’t you think?” 

[atsukashii]

Hi! I love your writing so very much 🥰

For the event, could I possibly get: Tirza x Midoriya + she/her pronouns + ☀️ + green

Thank you thank you 🥺💕☺️

how long do I have to wait how many nights do I have to pass

✘ he was the one who got away, but now the number one pro hero has returned to japan, and come home to you

✘ GENRE: fluff

✘ WARNINGS: none

✘ WORD COUNT: 1.4k

To the world the name Izuku Midoriya was synonymous with the pro hero Deku. But to you, Izuku Midoriya is synonymous with sorrow, desperation and hurt. To you, Izuku Midoriya is the one who got away.

You’d been by his side since elementary school, where Katsuki Bakugou had coined the name Deku, which caught on in the opposite way than what he had initially intended it to be interpreted. You had been friends with the shy, hero crazed boy who had helped you draw your hero costume and equipment when you had decided you both were going to be pro heroes. You had been by his side as this quirk he was supposedly ‘born-with’ had manifested. And you knew, from the moment you saw All Might talking to him, just who’s quirk he had inherited.

You had been by Izuku’s side from your earliest memories, and you had loved him for as long as you could remember. You’d loved him for so long, and you were planning on telling him the moment you had finished your studies but never got the chance, because he’d left for the U.S a day later, working at an agency courtesy of Professor David Shield. And you had let him go, and took your heart with him.

Those six months had turned into three years, and now he was back.

“Can you please at least say hello to him? That’s all I'm asking here,” Your friend Ochako pleads from next to you, and you finally turn away from the bar to face her. You had been dragged out to a bar by your friend, only to discover the whole thing was an official ‘welcome home’ party for your first love that you hadn’t seen in years. So you’d reacted like any mature person, and hidden amongst all the bodies at the bar, cradling the same glass of water because you had work tomorrow and couldn’t afford to turn up hungover.

“I will,” you reply, looking over across the room at the green haired man laughing along with a bunch of your old high school friends. You give Ochako a pointed look as you swirl back around on your stool. “Later.”

“For fucks sake, even Bakugou is over there. Ba-ku-gou!” She combats, waving her hands to emphasise her point.

“Good for him.” She huffs out a breath of frustration at your antics but really, you don’t want an audience when you first talk to him, because you don’t know what is going to come out of your mouth. Will it be what your heart wants to say, that you missed him every single minute he was gone, or your head, where you’ll just simply say welcome back and move on with your life. You weren’t willing to take that gamble in front of your closest friends.

“Go have fun, I’ll talk to him later, I promise.” You swear, and even hold out your pinky which makes your friend let out a shocked laugh.

“Why don’t I believe you?” she asks, and you simply shrug, watching as she shifts through the crowd towards the table and the star of honour. The minute you know you’re out of eyesight and earshot, you leave your glass on the table, grab your jacket and sneak out the side door of the complex. Inhaling the chilled night air, you hesitate in the alleyway of the bar, letting yourself revel in the silence of the outside world. Getting used to having Izuku was going to take a while, especially considering he would no doubt be visiting his mother, who still lives next door to your own. You could never escape him, and why should that change even if you want it to? You only take a step further into the alleyway before the door bangs open behind you.

“Y/n?” His voice is deeper than you remembered it, but then again, he had been only a high school graduate when you’d spoken to him last. Slowly you turn around to face him, taking in Izuku’s face one inch at a time. Freckles still dusted his nose and cheekbones, and those deep emerald green eyes still glowed like sea glass - stop, you mentally plead. Don’t go down this road.

“I thought it was you. I saw Uraraka talking to you at the bar, and I wanted to see you before you left.” He’s taller too. You’d been the same height through most of your schooling, but now he towered over you by at least a foot. As Izuku stops under the dim light on the wall, you notice the undercut he now has and hate how it makes goosebumps break out on your skin.

“How have you been?” He asks, one of his hands clutching his other wrist in a nervous tick that holds your attention. How have you been? How have you been… miserable, lonely, lovesick, missing you… but you can’t say that. So instead you muster all the confidence in you to tell him the opposite, that you’ve been fine.

“I-” Your voice breaks on the word and you feel the world around you freeze. Your heartbeat echoes through your head and the happiness on Izuku’s face shatters and pain flickers to life in his eyes as he looks at you. A scarred hand reaches up and gently caresses your cheek and only then do you notice that you’re crying.

And the moment you recognise their existence, your chest heaves and you burst at the seems. The gruttal sob that leaves your lips has Izuku lunging forward and bringing you into his arms. Burying your face into his chest, you don’t try to stop what you’re feeling, and just let it run its course as you listen to him talk.

“I’m so sorry Tirza.” He repeats over and over like a mantra, softly running his hand over your hair whilst holding you close to his chest. Once your sobs cease and your tears slow do you finally trust yourself to talk.

“I missed you,” you get out, stepping out of embrace so that you can look at him properly, and gage his every reaction. If you’re going to get your heart ripped out, you’d at least like to try and see it coming.

“I missed you so much, but I couldn’t tell you. I missed you, but I was so proud and happy for you, because you were doing what you loved and even though I loved you, I didn't want to try and take you away from what you were born to do.” You try to explain, knowing you're making a mess of it all, but still trying to get it all off your chest. Izuku’s green eyes blink at you owlishly for a second, and fear enters your body for a second. But only for a second.

Because in the next, Izuku has your hand in one of his, and his lips on your own. Your eyes widen in surprise at the sudden affection, and you carefully place your hands on his shirt to push him away? To pull him closer? You’re unsure, but when he finally pulls back and looks down at you with so much adoration, your heart almost stops in your chest.

“I’m so sorry I left. I wanted to tell you how I felt back in highschool, but then I got offered a placement in the U.S. I almost didn’t take it too, but then I knew you would kick my ass if I didn’t,” Izuku rambles and you nod, knowing fully well that you would have. “And then I was going to come back after six months but they asked me to stay longer, and then I came to visit, but your mother said you hadn’t been back home since you graduated.” You cringe at the memory, knowing you hadn’t gone back because you didn’t want to be asked about him.

“But I get it.” Izuku finishes, pushing your stray hair back from your face. “It’s the same reason I went and sat on the beach when I missed home.” Because across it was you. “I’ve loved you since I was in middle school, and I’m sorry it took me so long to say it.” You let out a shocked laugh at his words, which turns into a soppy one as you grin at the man in front of you. He was home, that’s all you’d wanted, and now it was staring you in the face. Him. It had always been him.

“I love you Izuku. So so much.” You say, crying into your laughter as he joins you.

“We’re idiots for waiting this long,” He groans, leaning his head on your shoulder, and another laugh slips from your mouth, but one that actually has you smiling.

“The biggest idiots to ever live.”

a/n: Thank you for your kind words anon, you get a big MWUAH from me :)  i didn't mean for this to have an angsty start, but oops... also i think these are getting longer and longer. Note to self, you can't write short drabbles for shit. Looks like its full length fics for me

✘ EVENT STATUS : OPEN  ✘

[mandoalorian]

I Believe In Love [Maxwell Lord x F!Reader] — Eight: Courage

Summary: When you find your calling to leave Themyscira, you venture out to the World of Man with intentions of helping and healing a very specific person's relationship with his son. You've heard his voice before, but only in dreams. You've felt his pain and anguish and you've never been able to relate to anything more. But things don't come easy for you, and they certainly don't come easy for him either. [This series contains spoilers for WW84 and is my interpretation of what happens after the movie ends].

Warnings: canon typical violence

Word count: 5,000>

Masterlist 

Previous - Chapter Eight - Next

You awoke to the phone on the nightstand ringing. Maxwell groaned, rolling over and pulling the pillow over his head. You tiredly opened your eyes before taking the phone off the hook and holding it against your ear. “Hello?” you asked, your voice hoarse and your throat sore. It must have been the implications of yours and Maxwell’s actions from the night before. Max moaned and wrapped his large arm around your naked body, pulling you into his chest and resting his chin on your shoulder.

“It’s me,” Diana snapped back quickly. “I’ve been calling your room for the past fifteen minutes. What’s going on?”

“O-oh,” you groaned, rubbing your eyes and pulling out of Maxwell’s grip. You sighed and propped yourself up on some pillows. “I’m sorry Di, I guess we must’ve slept through the phone call. I didn’t hear anything.” you admitted.

“Listen, we only have two days in Greece so if we want to find the dreamstone we have to work fast. Meet me in the lobby in fifteen minutes or I’ll go without you. I already have a lead.” Diana instructed and you heard the phone slam back down on the hook with a ring.

You turned to Max who had fallen back asleep, his snores gentle and light as his chest slowly rose and fell with every breath. He was so peaceful. When he was asleep, it was one of the few moments where he wasn’t ridden with stress or anxiety. And you wished you had the rest of your life to admire his tender movements.

“Max, wake up, we have to go.” you whispered, shaking him gently.

Maxwell mumbled something incoherent and rolled over, resting his head in your lap. You smiled, feeling your cheeks heat up as he shuffled further into your body. You smoothed out his golden hair and traced the features of his face with your index finger. So beautiful. So perfect.

You imagined spending every single one of your future mornings like this, in bed with him, his face buried in your lap and his gentle snores echoing throughout the room. Your naked legs were tangled together and neither of you had ever felt so comfortable in your life.

“Max, baby,” you cooed, leaning down and pressing a soft kiss into his forehead.

“Mmm, good morning.” Maxwell grumbled, rubbing his tired eyes.

“We slept in,” you sighed, letting your hand trail down his body and lazily circle his tan chest. “Diana is waiting for us downstairs. We have to go.”

“I don’t want to,” he whined, almost child-like. “Wanna stay here with you- foreverrrr.” he purred, pressing a tired kiss to the inside of your thigh.

“Maxie, please don’t make this any more difficult than it needs to be.” you hummed seriously, although you were trying to hold back a smile. If anything was going to wake Maxwell up, it would be that nickname. He opened his eyes and pulled off you.

“Okay princess, I’m up.” He said, running his hand through his wavy morning hair.

“Princess? I told you I’m not a-” 

“Think of it as a term of endearment, sweetheart.” he said, pressing a kiss into your nose. 

“Oh.” was all you managed to breathe out before his lips caught yours.

***

Just as she had stated, Diana was waiting for you in the hotel lobby, dressed fully in her red,  blue and gold warrior costume. It had garnered quite a bit of attention, but nothing Diana Princess of Themyscira wasn’t used to. 

“You said you had a lead?” you quizzed, quirking your eyebrow and taking a step closer to Diana.

“Yes, Dr. Minerva,” Diana said, immediately glancing at Maxwell who’s eyes had become comically wide. The name clearly meant something to him. It rang like alarm bells in his head. “Or Barbara, as myself and Max know her as.”

You turned to Max, confused as to why Diana was being particularly smug. She’d acted the same when she mentioned Barbara and Max back at the Smithsonian yesterday. “Who is this Dr Minerva?” you asked him, looking at him with the most innocent, doe eyes. Your voice was soft but riddled with curiosity. He wanted to tell you, he wanted to tell you everything it’s just… things were difficult. He’d done things with Barbara that he’d be afraid of you knowing; afraid of what you might think or if you will think any less of him. He couldn’t stand the fact you genuinely had no idea. It was a long complicated story. He hoped to tell you it one day - but knowing that you might not have much time left on Earth, was it really worth it?

“Maybe Diana is better off explaining.” Maxwell scrunched up his nose, dismissing your question. It brought back too many memories that Max would prefer to just ignore. Even though ignoring his past trauma was how he got into this mess in the first place. If he’d learned one thing from Diana, it was that he must face the truth no matter how difficult it may be.

“No,” Diana shot back, but her voice wasn’t laced with venom as Maxwell expected. “I think you’re better off answering this one.” Diana smiled a perfect smile. Maybe smug wasn’t the word to describe Diana’s demeanor, but she certainly knew something that you didn’t, and she was being particularly hidden about it.

“Well Max?” you narrowed your eyes. Why was he being so secretive? Who was this woman?

“Uh-,” Maxwell trailed off, avoiding all eye contact. He took in the features of your face, admiring your beauty with all he had and thinking about how he didn’t want to lose you. He loved you. And you deserved to know. If Max could open up to you about his childhood and about his pursuit of the dreamstone, he could tell you about his short-lived relationship with Barbara-Ann Minerva. “Shit, okay. I had been searching for the dreamstone for a long time when one day, a newspaper headline told me that there was a robbery at a jewellery store, and that the Smithsonian had all the stolen treasures. Including the dreamstone. So I went to the Smithsonian and requested to see Dr. Minerva because I did my research and I knew she was the fresh faced gemologist they just hired a week earlier. And she was… beautiful,” Maxwell seemed to get lost in the memory of her vibrant blue eyes and blonde wavy hair. His lips then curled into a frown. “But so ditzy... I saw straight through her vulnerabilities and insecurities in an instant and I used that to exploit her and get the dreamstone. I gained her trust when I told her I’d be donating to the gemology department at the museum, I charmed her at the charity gala and I wooed her in her office and took the stone.”

Maxwell seemed to gloss over the chain of events but it didn’t really matter. He’d explained what he needed to. You felt a pang of jealousy strike your heart at his revelation. You had been made aware from Mrs Stagg, Ted and Julianna, Diana, and even Max, that he’d done bad things and made terrible mistakes, but you couldn’t help but feel an irk over what had happened in Dr Minerva’s office. “Wooed her?” you quoted him, folding your arms over your chest. Maxwell blinked, but then sighed and reached out to hold your hand.

“Really?” Diana sighed. “That’s what you're focused on right now? Dolos lives. The God of Lies lives.” she shook her head in disbelief and you bit your lip, supposing that she was right. You had bigger things on your plate. You were a goddess for heaven’s sake, you couldn’t let the irrational human emotion of envy consume you. But you had noticed the way his face softened when he was reminded of Dr Minerva’s beauty. And you couldn’t help but feel the urge to know what exactly went on in her office, the night of the charity gala. After a brief moment of silence and exchanged glances, Diana opened her mouth again. “I had a contact in D.C., Babajide, who knew all about the dreamstone and the powers of the God of Lies. Myself, Barbara and Steve met with him when we found out Maxwell had become the dreamstone.”

“Hey- how did I not know about Babajide?” Maxwell frowned. He’d been researching the dreamstone for years and he’d never known of such a man. A man who supposedly had all the answers about the stone.

“Irrelevant,” Diana rolled her eyes. “Seriously guys, this is important. You need to pay attention.”

“I am!” You and Maxwell exclaimed together, in an unpredicted unison. Diana quirked an eyebrow and you felt a warmth cross your cheeks. Ancient Olympian tales would describe moments like that as soulmate-ism. 

“Babajide knew so much about Romulus and the exact dreamstone that Max got a hold of so I paid him another visit and found out he had knowledge on Dolos’ dreamstone too. Only…” And Diana let out a long sigh before pinching the bridge of her nose. “He told me that Barbara had visited him a day earlier, asking him of the same knowledge. ‘Asking’ is putting it nicely. Apparently Barbara was a menace and threatened Babajide. And Babajide told her everything he told me. It’s more than likely that Barbara is already here, in Greece, seeking the stone for herself.” 

“She sounds dangerous.” you said quietly. Maxwell held his head in his hands.

“I don’t think I can face Barbara again.” He said, shaking his head, fearful.

“Max I don’t think we have a choice. We have to get the dreamstone before she gets it. What do you think she’ll do with the stone once she has it?” you asked Diana.

“I can only imagine the worst,” Diana shook her head in dismay. “Barbara was complicated… she craved power just like Maxwell only… she had nothing to lose. I fear that she’ll wish to become the dreamstone.” As the word’s left Diana’s lips, Maxwell’s heart sank and he ran off, disappearing amongst the lobby crowds. “Do you think he’s okay?”

You stood for a moment, watching as his dirty blonde hair descended behind the grand staircase. No, of course he wasn’t okay, and you were the only one who truly knew how much this business with the dreamstone had affected him and harmed him. He had come so close to losing everything and so learning that Barbara might make the same mistake as he did, hurt him too. No matter what happened between Barbara and Maxwell, he clearly cared about her. “Excuse me.” you told Diana, following Maxwell through the crowds.

You just noticed him heading through an alcove and outside of the resort. He pushed his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose and stood by the pool, relishing the fresh air and trying to regulate his panicked, erratic breathing. “Max! Max!” you called after him, pushing past the people until finally you were by his side, grabbing his hand. “What happened back there?”

Maxwell said nothing, instead he just looked into the golden horizon. “Max?”

“Maybe I shouldn’t be here,” he told you. “You have Diana. What use am I?” 

“We need you Max,” you promised him, placing your hand on his cheek and gently turning his head so he was facing you. “I need you.”

Maxwell smiled softly and felt himself lean into your warm embrace. “I’ve never felt needed… or wanted… until I met you.” he confessed and you felt tears prick your eyes at his admission. You knew that feeling all too well.

“I know, me too. Back home, all the other Amazon’s were fighters and warriors… like Diana. But not me. They made me feel useless… like I had no point. Like I was a mistake. My mother would tell me that Zeus created me for a reason, just like all the other Gods and Goddesses, and that one day I’d serve my true purpose. That’s why I’m here today, with you. I already know that the years of humiliation and feeling like an outcast will be worth the few days that I get to spend with you, Max.”

Max sighed softly. “I never thought a Goddess could feel like an outcast,” he told you and you pursed your lips into a fine line, nodding in affirmation. “I’m sorry.”

“I think we have more in common that meets the eye.” you giggled softly, dropping your hand flat against his chest. Maxwell wrapped both of his big arms around you and pulled you into a hug.

“I think so too,” he agreed, pressing a soft kiss into your hair. “We better catch up with Diana then,” he told you, taking your hand. “Let’s put an end to this.”

***

You had been walking for miles in the blazing Greek heat. Maxwell had unbuttoned the top of his shirt and his collar was slightly wonky. His hair may have been disheveled and the blonde locks may have been sticking to the pearls of sweat that beaded along his forehead, but you still admired his beauty. He was truly wonderful. He was quiet most of the journey, and he didn’t have the agility or stamina that you and Diana had. Sometimes you’d have to take stops and have water breaks or toilet breaks. You tried to include him in conversation but his discomfort wasn’t lost on you. It was clear enough that his relationship with Diana was complicated, to say the least. Little did you know, the three of you were about to become a whole lot closer. You and Diana laughed and talked for hours, sharing stories about your time together on Themyscira.

“Zeus is my father. Zeus is your father. We’re basically sisters,” you nudged her, and she giggled. Maxwell scrunched up his nose. Sisters?! He ran a hand through his hair and continued to listen in your conversation. “It’s just unfair that you got to be Princess of Themyscira and I was stuck living a sheltered life with my mother.”

“It wasn’t always easy being a princess,” Diana scolded, but in a warm and polite manner. “It was all about duty. But hey- you’re a goddess, you know all about that.”

If Maxwell Lord had a dollar for everytime he thought he was in a fever dream… he might have been able to afford Black Gold Cooperative’s utility bill. He’d always been a realist. He’d never engaged in fantasy movies or novella, but there was something about overhearing a conversation between a Demi-god and a goddess that just didn’t feel real.

He knew it was. He’d seen Diana in action himself. Hell, he’d seen the powers you possessed. Albeit, when Diana mentioned how you possessed double her power, he was shocked to say the least. Diana could barely hold off Barbara in the White House but with you here? For once Maxwell finally felt hopeful. 

As you furthered deeper into unknown plains, a sudden coldness enveloped you all. It was like a dark, enigmatic spirit ghosting between the three of you, and just like everything else that had happened over the past four days, it couldn’t be explained.

“Do you feel that?” Max finally asked, breaking his silence as he folded his arms over his chest. A shiver raced down his spine as Diana increased her pace and approached the forbidden tomb. “Look at this place. She took us to an ancient burial site, it seems. Like ancient Greek ruins.” he told you, scoping out the place.

“I feel that, yes.” you hummed, your mind wandering the origins of the cold air. Diana’s cries alerted both you and Maxwell as your heads both snapped in her direction and watched her push an enormous boulder away from the tomb, revealing an opening.

“Are you as strong as that?” Maxwell asked, his mouth gaped open in shock.

“Stronger.” you winked before taking his hand and dragging him towards Diana.

The cold spirit then enveloped you, Diana and Maxwell, whispering words of admission, encouraging you all to come forward. “Don’t you think it’s a trap?” Maxwell asked once you were deep enough in the cave that you had hit a point of no return. Even if it was a trap, there was no going back now. You were faced with two path-ways.

“The Sword of Athena is this way,” Diana pointed to the right pathway, otherwise known as the pathway she stood before, and then she pointed her other finger to the left pathway, “and Dolos’ dreamstone is that way. I say we split up and rendezvous here. Maxwell, come with me.”

“Wait what?” Max asked, narrowing his eyes.

“No,” you told Diana firmly. “He is coming with me.” “You really think it’s wise to let Max Lord accompany you to get the dreamstone?” Diana quizzed quietly, stepping closer to you and breaking any distance. Her dark eyes flicked between you and Maxwell. “After everything he’s done.”

Diana’s hiss was quiet, but not quiet enough to go unnoticed by Maxwell. He knew he wasn’t going to do anything. He was a changed man - but the realization that he’d have to prove to the people he hurt that he was changed, suddenly overwhelmed him. He’d have to prove himself to Diana, and even prove himself to Barbara before he could put all this behind him. There were still steps Max Lord had to take in order to gain full closure of his trauma.

“I trust him.” you said through gritted teeth. Maxwell felt a wave of relief. You were so pure of heart. So angelic. You took his hand, nodded goodbye to Diana, and guided him through the left path-way.

“How much further?” he asked. You had been walking hand in hand for around five or ten minutes, only your lasso of Hestia illuminating the cave. Before you could reply, you felt the walls and ceiling of the cave begin to vibrate and crumble. “What’s that?!” Maxwell asked again, this time panicked and looking around erratically.

“We might not have much time.” You said, feeling your own heart rate increase speed as anxiety settled in you.

Something wasn’t right, that much was clear. You tightened your grip on the businessman’s hand and began to run, pulling him with you. Within seconds, you had reached your destination. Maxwell was heaving and panting but he straightened up and fought for composure when he noticed a dim, amber light illuminate your skin. It wasn’t your lasso of Hestia… not this time. He slowly looked up and followed your gaze, gasping when his eyes set on the dreamstone.

You had completely frozen up, struck by awe as you took in the beauty of the citrine stone which stood erect on top of a Greek pillar. “Wow.” you mumbled, swallowing the hard lump in your throat.

The stone was practically identical to the one Maxwell had utilized just a week ago, and just seeing it again, in its full glory, sent electric bolts of dread through his body. He couldn’t be here. He couldn’t do this. Not again. Being in the same proximity as the stupid stone that had ruined everything sent Maxwell into his fight or flight. “I can’t- I can’t do this.” Maxwell shakily declared, his coffee coloured eyes glazed with panic.

“It’s okay,” you whispered, taking both of his hands and coaching his breathing. “Let me get the stone and we can head on out of here.”

Maxwell closed his eyes and nodded. If you could trust him, he could certainly trust you. You brushed a chaste kiss against his lips and pulled away from him. It only took a few steps on your approach to the stone before the walls began to crumble again, even more so than previously, and the ground beneath you began to split.

“Shit!” Maxwell cried as he stared at the crack in the floor between you both. It was deep and only getting deeper. If you didn’t run now, you might have gotten separated. He called your name, terror rampant in his voice. “Hurry!”

As you were about to grab the stone. A voice stopped you. A voice that Maxwell thought he’d never hear again.

“The stone belongs to me.” she said coldly. You huffed and opted to ignore the grave voice, taking the dreamstone from the pillar before spinning around on your heel and turning around.

And when you saw the sight before you, you dropped the dreamstone and let it fall to the rocky ground beneath you. Trepidation consumed you and suddenly, it felt like your whole life was on the line. “Maxwell!” you cried, your hand immediately dropping down to your lasso and curling your fingers around the rope. You scowled angrily, your gaze flicking between Max and the woman who was holding him by his neck.

“This- this is Dr. Minerva!” Maxwell choked, tears streaming down his cheeks as Barbara tightened her grip around his throat. Her once blonde hair was white and knotted, and her black kohl eyeliner smudged down her cheeks. Her tights were ripped and a sleeve was missing from her Cheetah print fur jacket. She is not at all how you’d imagined her.

“Let him go!” You begged as anger swelled in the pit of your stomach. “Let him go now!”

Maxwell’s eyes squeezed shut and he let out a groan, his knees wobbling as he struggled to even stand up straight. It was only Barbara’s strong grip of his neck that was keeping him upright. He was hurting. The love of your life was in pain.

“Give me the stone.” Barbara growled.

You picked up the dreamstone and passed it her way. She took it, willingly and let go of Maxwell, throwing him to the ground. The glint in her eye as she analysed the citrine was enough to terrify you. You ran to Maxwell’s side, dropping to your knees and nursing his body.

“Hey! Max, are you okay?” You whispered, smoothing out his hair and running your fingers along his face. He nodded wearily, rubbing the scratches on his neck from where her sharp, cat-like, fingernails had dug into his skin. You helped him to his feet and swung an arm around his body to support him.

“Barbara.” he called, gaining the attention of the doctor.

“No,” you chastised Max. “Don’t. There will be another opportunity to get the stone.” But he wasn’t going to give in that easy, he had to play his cards right. Luckily for you, manipulation was one of Maxwell Lord’s most tactful skills.

“Barbara, did we end things on a bad note? I must admit, I thought we had something special… me and you.” Maxwell said, his voice hoarse. He pulled out of your arms and sluggered towards the gemologist, who had finally looked up from the citrine stone and towards the businessman. For a split second, you saw a glimpse of humanity flicker in her eyes.

“You renounced your wish,” Barbara said, her grip on the stone as tight as ever, but her heart ached as Maxwell approached her. “You were weak. The dreamstone deserves to be with someone like me.” Even her words sound forced and unnatural - like they weren’t really coming from her. Had she not renounced her wish? You wondered what she had even wished for. 

“I couldn’t agree more,” Maxwell coaxed. He had gotten so close to Barbara, he was able to cup her face and rub the height of her cheekbone with his thumb. It was an action he’d performed on you many times, but even watching this play out, with your own two eyes, you could tell it was different. It was colder and more forced. He had that fake television smile, not the smile you had been blessed to see so many times. “I just hoped things could’ve been different between us.”

“Max, what are you saying?” Barbara asked, goosebumps lacing her arms and you noticed the way her grip on the dreamstone loosened under his touch.

“Everyone has something to lose,” Maxwell whispered. “I could have all the power in the world but it would mean nothing to me if I lost Alistair, my son. Tell me Barbara, does that really make me weak?”

Barbara considered his words for a few moments. “No.”

Maxwell nodded. “What do you have to lose?” Maxwell whispered, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear.

Barbara sniffed, a single tear dripping down her cheek. She was once so warm and compassionate, so friendly. There was one thing. Only one thing she thought about losing.

Just then, the dreamstone slipped from her grip as the lasso of Hestia curled around it and pulled it away from her. But it wasn’t your lasso.

“Diana!” Barbara gasped, her face hardening as she quickly and fiercely wiped her tears away. “That dreamstone belongs to me!”

“I can’t let you do this Barbara!” Diana cried. “This has to end now!” You and Maxwell ran towards Diana and she passed you the dreamstone. “Get out of here!” I’ll hold back Barbara.”

You handed Maxwell the dreamstone and equipped your own lasso, circling it around until it wrapped around a rocky ledge at the end of the cave. “Hold on to me. One hand around me and keep tight a hold of the stone!” you commanded as the walls of the ancient temple began to crumble around you. Just before you set off, you saw the silver gleam of Diana’s sword of Athena as she wielded it before Barbara.

“Shouldn’t I hold on to the lasso?” Maxwell asked, sliding an arm around your waist and holding the stone tight against his chest. 

“Just trust me!” You shouted over the loud rumbling around you. You gripped on to your lasso firmly with both hands before shooting off in the air.

“Whoa!” Maxwell screamed, squeezing his eyes tight shut the second his feet left the ground. “Are we flying?! Are we flying?!”

You giggled as your bodies glided through the air. Max might have been holding on to you for his dear life, but somehow he knew he would be okay. That he’d be safe and you wouldn’t let him get hurt. You rapidly approached the entrance to the cave and used the last of your might to safely land. Maxwell had no time to catch his whereabouts when his feet hit the ground, as you clipped your lasso back to your belt and ran with him to the edge of the ruins.

You hadn’t been in there too long, but by the time you had exited the ancient temple, it was already nightfall. You looked back and there was no sign of Diana. She must have still been in there with Barbara, and you wondered what was going on. 

When Maxwell held the dreamstone, he felt opportunistic. He could make a wish. He had the possibility to make a wish again and have a do-over. He knew where he went wrong last time. He could make it right. He could wish for you to stay… and for you to live a peaceful, happy life with him and Alistair. He could wish to win the custody case. He could wish for so many things. But it was the softness of your touch which interrupted him from his intrusive thoughts. The way your fingers gently grazed across his knuckles and you held his hand.

“We have to destroy it now.” you whispered, looking into the glowing citrine rock. 

“We?” Maxwell questioned. His eyes were dark and wide. “We don’t even know how.”

“Only the truth can destroy the lies. But my mother said I had to believe in love. Love would destroy the stone. Truth and love… truth and love…” you chanted as you tried to piece together the puzzle.

It suddenly hit Maxwell like a ton of bricks. “True love,” he said out loud, his gaze flicking from the dreamstone to you. “True love will destroy the stone.”

It made more than sense, and Maxwell had worked it out on his own. “You’re right…” you whispered. You squeezed Max’s hand and then reached over to the dreamstone. You placed your hand on the stone, and the tips of your fingers touched the tips of Maxwell. As you both held the stone together, the magic began to work and the stone  grew hot and tingled your skin. Very soon, Dolos’ dreamstone - the final dreamstone - fizzled away into a pile of glittering dust and blew away in the cool Greek wind.

You and Maxwell both stood there in silence, still holding your hands out, but this time there was no dreamstone. You had done it. The dreamstone had been destroyed. The God of Lies was dead. It was over. 

“You did it,” Maxwell was the first to break the silence. “You destroyed the dreamstone.”

You had both been thinking the same thing. The fact you had both placed your hand on the dreamstone and that your combined energy was enough to disintegrate the possessed rock. True love. It was hard to know what to say. Of course you were in love with Maxwell Lord, and knowing that pretty soon you’d have to leave him, made your whole body ache to the core. And Maxwell felt the same about you. He’d never been this happy in his life - but spending his days with you and Alistair felt so special. You were his guardian angel, sent out from Themyscira to aid him and help him. To rescue him. How could he not love you? But still, neither of you said anything. How could you ever tell him that you loved him when you were going to leave him? It would only make things harder when it was time to go. You winced and blinked away unshed tears.

“No,” you whispered, turning to look into Maxwell’s honey coloured eyes. “We did it.”

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Love Me A Little Less: Chapter 9 - Obligation

LOVE ME A LITTLE LESS CHAPTER MASTERLIST

Member: (3rd person pov) arranged marriage au with Lee Juyeon

Genre: angsty wangsty

Taglist: @hyunjaethereal @sunwoowuvbot​ @suzy-rainbow​ @miingxuxi​ ​​

“It was like Se Kyung’s eyes had been surgically transferred into another body. ”

Hesitation stops Kim Jo-Pil for a few seconds. He parts his quivering lips and takes a deep breath, then says, just loud enough for Juyeon to hear, “I made a mistake. One too big for me to dig a hole and throw it in.”

Juyeon’s frown deepens, and he hears the sheets shuffling in the bedroom. He reaches forward, pulling Jang Won’s door shut.

It is only in Kim Jo-Pil’s home-made office (also known as Jang Won’s second guest room) that Juyeon is surprised by the number of mini and portrait-sized canvasses painted by his wife. Just for a split second, Juyeon buys it. Maybe Kim Jo-Pil isn’t as horrid of a person Kim Jang Won thinks he is.

But it’s the picture of their family sitting on his desk that ironically turns Juyeon’s head around.

“What is all this? For show? For when Jang Won storms in and you’ll think she’ll go soft, seeing all this?”

Kim Jo-Pil lands himself in the sofa seat next to the bed, piled with files and documents and boxes, leaving Juyeon to stand awkwardly by the end of the bed, eyes scanning the mess in the room.

“You sound like her... after her mother passed and before I did.”

Juyeon’s nostrils flare. “If you don’t want to tell me why you decided to come back and ruin her life, so be it. I don’t need to stand here and listen to all your-”

“Younghoon wasn’t Se Kyung’s first child.”

Silence.

Juyeon’s heart halts in his chest. 

Kim Jo-Pil looks out the window, eyes looking in the distance where the city’s skyscrapers were kissing the sun. “Se Kyung had a child born out of wedlock before she married me. But they made her choose. The child’s life or her freedom.”

“Back then, The Board already had administrations favouring arranged marriages between families under the conglomerate. It was an easy system to keep the number of royalties under control. The cycle repeats itself. Two families become one, and a new family joins. Superpowers are reduced from two to one overnight, and The Board would never have to be worried about being overthrown because the supers would simply be too busy outdoing each other and seeking validation from the administration.”

“Did you know?” Juyeon whispers. “That she already had a child?”

“I knew... not because I was meant to, but because I wanted to. It was The Board’s annual Christmas Charity Event in the early 1990s and Se Kyung had gone with her parents, and I had gone with mine. She was sweeter than a daisy in a meadow full of flowers. She was polite, kind, and had a reputation for being the most stubborn creature on the planet, even then. It was one of the many things that Jang Won had inherited from her.”

“She spent her early twenties away from home, supposedly in another country working her way through foreign industries and making a name for herself. I didn’t know she had returned until my father told me that the Yoo family had chosen to merge with another - mine - I couldn’t be happier. One night, I decided to sneak to into their property and propose to her formally, way before the arrangements were to be made public. And... I heard it. The crying. Fighting.”

Kim Jo-Pil’s eyes fall. “She had returned with a child in hopes to bond her to the Yoo family. The father was a coward and ran once he had heard she was from a reputable family. Too much politics, too much money.”

“But the baby. Oh, the baby. Sweetest little thing I’ve ever seen in my life. My poor, poor Se Kyung... She was given the options: Marry into the Kim family and give the baby away, or her parents will have it dispensed like it had never been born.”

By now, Kim Jo-Pil has tears in his eyes.

“After we had Younghoon, something in Se Kyung clicked back to life. I remember the night she delivered him. The sparkle in her eyes that I fell in love with the day I met her had returned... but I knew for a fact that I needed to find her first-born, no matter the implications. It was the least I could do for her. By then, the child had to be a few years older than Younghoon and so, I spent the time that I should’ve spent with Se Kyung and my own children looking for her - the baby.”

“Se Kyung lost her parents in an accident the night Jang Won was born. She lost the worst nightmares of her life in exchange for a beautiful baby girl... so, what more could she ask for?”

Kim Jo-Pil sucks a deep breath. “I couldn’t find the child. I went to all the orphanages and the foster homes and by then Se Kyung had already fallen ill. Brain cancer - inherited. All I wanted was to return Se Kyung was her first-born and yet I did not deliver. When Jang Won was 16, Se Kyung passed. The last foster home that had taken care of the child said that she had reached a legal age to take care of herself. She could’ve gone under the radar if she wanted, changed her name if she wanted, and I’ll never be able to find her. Little did I know that she had grown to become much more of a person than I ever expected her to be, and she had been practicing advanced medicine throughout her college life.”

Juyeon is giddy from the influx of information, and so he braces himself when his own neurons piece the puzzle together.

“She was the one who revived you. The child.”

The elder shuts his eyes and lets the tears dribble over his lids.

It felt like a dream. The ache in his chest. The rough texture of gravel under his cheek when he collapsed. But Kim Jo-Pil opens his eyes, in thorough shock, when he realises he’s not in the hospital, but in some worn-down warehouse with a bunch of illegal medication that shouldn’t even be legally available outside of the hospital.

He had remembered the lights in the operating theatre, and even the sound of his slowing heartbeat in the drums of his ears.

So how is it possible that he’s-

“Ah, you’re awake! I was starting to worry that it didn’t work, Goddamn Narcan.”

Kim Jo-Pil tries to move, but he can’t. He couldn’t move a single muscle in his body besides his eyes.

“Don’t worry, I’m not gonna hurt you.”

The lights above him had been preventing him from seeing her face, and when he did, he swore he could’ve been snapped into two when he recognised her eyes.

She pushes away the lights and turns to remove her surgical equipment, the sound of latex snapping away from her fingers echo through the dismay of the room. She returns her attention to Kim Jo-Pil.

It was like Se Kyung’s eyes had been surgically transferred into another body.

“I’m Yoo Hye In, and I heard you’ve been searching for me.”

Exasperated and in disbelief, Juyeon runs his hands through his hair, turning to make sure the door of the room was shut. 

“Why are you even telling me this? How do I know I can trust you to tell me the truth?”

“Yes, because I have all the damn time in the world to be cooking up this story!” He gets up and pulls up his shirt, revealing a stitched scar right over where his heart was. “I trust you because you have no reason to backstab her.” 

He releases his shirt. 

“Other than Younghoon, I don’t know if anybody else in this system can offer her any kind of security.”

“How do you know I’m not gonna run off after getting half of HERA & ARTEMIS?”

“Because if you wanted to, you wouldn’t have been such a jerk to her over your wedding.”

Juyeon presses his fingers over his closed lids. His vision is blurred when he opens them. 

“Why don’t you just tell Jang Won about this? She can protect you. She can sieve out this... Yoo Hye In, give her what she wants-”

“Jang Won will never give Hye In what she wants.”

Juyeon can feel the edges of his lips curl downwards and his lids getting heavier from mental exhaustion. “...Hye In wants HERA & ARTEMIS?”

Kim Jo-Pil’s eyes can’t seem to leave the floor. He can’t help the dreaded feeling of failure drowning his conscience as a father, as someone who was rightfully supposed to protect her. 

“So, what’s your plan? Hye In wants HERA & ARTEMIS, and you know for a fact that Jang Won won’t give that up... like, ever. What happens if Hye In doesn’t get HERA & ARTEMIS?”

“Hye In will go to the press. Her existence being Yoo Se Kyung’s first-born out of wedlock will destroy everything this family has built. Hera’s Manor, HERA & ARTEMIS, Artemis...” He shakes his head. “Either gone or hers. She’s playing saint by not doing that directly.”

“But what does Yoo Se Kyung’s mistake have anything to do with Jang Won?” Juyeon seethes, inhaling such a deep breath that his chest hurt. “This is unfair. She should not have to go through this-”

“And you think I don’t know that?” Kim Jo-Pil’s lower lip trembles, a hardening gaze plastered to Juyeon. 

Heaviness blankets the room. Juyeon’s frown feels cemented into his forehead as he sits at the edge of the crowded bed, fingers on his temple. 

“Juyeon.”

The younger side-eyes the elder, cautious. 

“Once you’ve acquired Apple-Korea, I want you to buy all of HERA & ARTEMIS, then acquire Artemis Entertainment as well.”

“You know Jang Won won’t allow that.”

“Try. You’ll have the power to and she can’t exactly stop you,” He huffs, chest rising. “She doesn’t need to know yet. I will tell her the truth when it blows over.”

“’Blows over’? How is this going to ‘blow over’? You just said Hye In won’t give in until she gets HERA & ARTEMIS.”

“But she can’t fight for ownership if it’s the owner is not of Yoo’s descent. Which means once you acquire all of HERA & ARTEMIS-”

“Then she’s no longer a threat.”

Kim Jo-Pil nods. “But you will need Jang Won’s trust to acquire all of HERA & ARTEMIS, and she cannot know about Hye In before that happens. Once the order is out of place, Jang Won will stop at nothing to fight for HERA & ARTEMIS, not knowing that she’ll be fighting a lost war.”

“Jang Won doesn’t even trust Younghoon. How do you expect her to trust me?”

“Look at where you’re standing,” Her father turns, but doesn’t look at Juyeon directly. The sun kisses a single side of his face as his eyes scan the room. “You’re standing in Hera’s Manor, and you’re her first overnight guest in five years. I’d say you have a pretty good chance at earning the rest of her trust.”

Juyeon winces slightly, shutting his lids to process the information. There’s a grave sense of responsibility perched on his shoulders now, and the dread that lingers in the back of his skull when he thinks of Yoo Hye In strutting around in public makes him uneasy. 

Juyeon finds himself mindlessly heading for the dining hall, where Mr Ro was finishing up the preparation of the wide array of food on the side table. The butler bows, but it goes unnoticed. He pulls the chair back for Juyeon to sit, and eventually calls him a cup of coffee when he notices Juyeon’s lack of attention. 

“Mr Ro.”

“Hmm?” The chocolate-brown shade of coffee glitters under the light from outside. 

“How long do you think it’ll take Jang Won to trust me?”

Mr Ro pulls away, handing the pot of coffee to another staff. “Well, Mr Lee... that depends on what circumstance we’re envisioning.”

“Her life. Maybe something she loves, something she can’t live without.”

“So, a prized possession.”

“Mm.”

Mr Ro pauses for a thought. 

“Long, but play your cards right, and she will eventually trust you.”

Juyeon offers a strained curve of his lips when Mr Ro bows and returns to the kitchen, leaving him with a bunch of pastries that should be sold in some five-star hotel instead.

Jang Won strolls into the dining hall dawned in a gorgeous full-fitted set, make-up and hair done like she was going for her own press conference. Juyeon remains quiet at the table, only looking up once when she first enters, then he returns to spreading Nutella on his croissant.

“Jesus, do we not have anything from Younghoon or my father to let him wear besides those pajamas?”

“You lent me these pajamas, don’t make it sound like it was my bad choice to make. Besides, they are comfortable and cute,” Juyeon looks down at himself.

Jang Won gruffly scoffs. “Of course it’s comfortable. It’s made from Supima cotton. What do you think we are, savages?”

“Mrs Lee, I-”

“Call me that again and I will fire you,” She abruptly instructs, glaring at her butler.

“Ms Kim,” He corrects himself. “We have already called Younghoon’s fitters to bring by some wardrobe for Mr Lee before he joins you for the itinerary meeting.”

“Itinerary meeting?” She whips her head from Mr Ro to Juyeon, who was busy licking the Nutella off the knife he was using. “Don’t you have to be in the office or something?”

“And do what? Put myself in a situation where my parents can come to kidnap me home? No thanks.”

Jang Won leans back in her seat as the staff places a cup of tea in front of her, surprised at Juyeon’s enthusiasm with something that he didn’t need to worry about.

“Well, I have a doctor’s appointment after, so, you can come back home after unless you want to hang around old, dying people.”

“What?” Juyeon sneers. “What for? You look perfectly fine to me.”

“That’s because I have been going for these medical checkups, dumbass. I’m not gonna stand around and then what if I magically die of a heart attack- then what? Give you all of HERA & ARTEMIS and Artemis Entertainment? Pshht!”

Juyeon purses his lips - a terrible attempt at hiding his smile. 

Young Jin Seol [12.13pm]: Your father just dropped by this morning. He knows you’re at Hera’s Manor. 

Young Jin Seol [12.14pm]: He’s requesting for a meal, for him and Mrs Lee as well as you and Kim Jang Won after you return from your honeymoon.

He quietly locks the device, attention drifting from the messages to Jang Won, who was busy strolling about the office. The ride here had been quiet, for Juyeon had chosen to drive and Jang Won sent two guards to Kim Sunwoo’s residence to get her Mercedes back. 

Heavy and thoughtful, Juyeon thought. The atmosphere in the car was strange, and he can’t help but to wonder of Jang Won was even aware she had a nightmare (or a trauma relapse, or whatever you called one of those) earlier in the morning. Maybe it was the accustomed sight of Jang Won being as cold and rigid as a statue that makes it harder to bear. Juyeon fails, when he tries to restrain the ache that devours his chest, unable to remove the image of her crying and holding on to that mini canvas like it were her life. 

The door of the office clicks open and it steals both his and her attention, the tour agency officer bowing to the two tycoons with files in her arms. Juyeon stands, patting down his pants. 

“Mr Lee!” She holds out a hand. “Pleasure to meet you. Mrs Lee didn’t make your attendance known.”

Juyeon smiles politely at her, shaking her hand whilst admiring the distasteful grimace on Jang Won’s face at the address. 

“Please, just call me Juyeon, and my wife, Jang Won. We’re still not used to the new... salutations.”

The officer offers a low chuckle, turning to Jang Won and raising a cheeky brow. Juyeon’s left brow twitches when Jang Won’s grimace remains cemented into her lips, and yet the officer was still grinning like an idiot. 

“Do you two know each other?”

“Call me ‘Mrs Lee’ one more time, and I will murder you,” Jang Won seethes, opening her arms and pulling her into a tight hug. An exhale gets punched out of Juyeon, feeling somewhat at ease with the change in atmosphere. 

“I knew that would totally get you on edge,” The officer laughs, patting Jang Won on her back between her shoulder blades. Pulling away, she turns to Juyeon and bows, this time more candidly. “I’m Ki Hae Ri, your tour officer for your honeymoon next week.”

Watching Jang Won talk to Hae Ri was almost like watching her get possessed by a 13-year-old teenager. More than amused, Juyeon wasn’t even paying attention to the actual content Hae Ri was talking about regarding the itinerary - all he could see was the bright smile on Jang Won’s face. 

And for once, since the day he first met her, this smile was genuine. Her eyes are folded into crescents when she laughs and chortles and berates Hae Ri for every little detail she puts in the conversation to tease Jang Won. 

“And for you, Mr Lee,” Hae Ri’s voice snaps him out of his mindless admiration. “Jang Won here has told me that you like diving and so I must tell you that she suggested of doing Belize.”

The folder slides across the table, and Jang Won shoots Hae Ri a look of betrayal. Automatically darting his attention to Jang Won, Juyeon’s fingers trail the edges of the folder, a picture of the Belize Blue Hole printed on the cover page.

Clearing her throat, Jang Won looks afar, refusing to even face him. “So it’s an 8-hour drive, or a 1.5 hour flight from Guatemala to Belize. It was a suggestion in one of the itinerary sets anyway.”

Juyeon looks up from the 3-day Belize stay itinerary, noticing Hae Ri’s prideful, cheeky grin stretched up her lips. 

Back in the car, Juyeon’s hands are on the steering wheel, engine already churning and the air-conditioner blasting the coolness into their faces. Jang Won waits for some moments, before realising the amount of movement in the car - or rather, the lack thereof.

“Hello? Doctor’s appointment?” The edge in her voice is back and Juyeon can’t help but wonder just how she does it - being so cold and caring at the same time. “If you’re not interested, then you can just get the fuck out and I’ll call Mr Ro to come pick you up.”

Juyeon pauses for a moment, collecting the vocabulary in his head.

“My parents want to meet us for a meal after we return from our honeymoon.”

The whir of the air-conditioner suddenly sounds a little louder. 

“What for?” Jang Won snorts. “Is your mom planning on baking cupcakes and apologising for making this the worst decision of your life, even though it wasn’t even yours to make?”

“I don’t know, but we’ll have to go. They are still my parents.”

“What?” She criticises, her upper lip hooked upwards. “You ran away! From home! And now you want to just... bring a basket of fruits to a picnic with them just ‘cause they’re your parents? Ha!”

“Look, I don’t like it either, but if we don’t do this then they’ll just be bugging me forever and if that happens then I can’t do what you want me to do with HERA & ARTEMIS peacefully. If anything, they might just fuck shit up if they don’t have this meal with us.”

“‘Fuck shit up’? I’ll fuck them up-”

“We’ll go, and that’ll be the end of it, okay? Trust me, you don’t want them dipping their noses into our shit once we start with all the ownership administration.”

“’Dipping their noses’? Just who the Hell do your parents think they are? They don’t even own any of the companies related to the-”

“I know, God damn it,” Juyeon finally rebuts, patience running thin. “But they have power. According to The Board’s conglomerate, my family is on the same tier as yours.”

Jang Won huffs, crossing her arms over her chest and looking out the window. 

“Just... just this once, and they’ll go easy. It’s not worth picking a fight with them, I promise you. Okay?”

Jang Won struggles to remove the frown off her forehead. She knows it’s not his fault. She knows his parents are shitty people.

And yet, for some reason, she’s jealous that Juyeon even has parents to feel obligated towards. 

Destiny, prophecy, fate. You name it. Just what is it that makes things so complicated in life? Circumstances can be created, changed, altered. Jang Won can question God about how she ended up right in this very spot every day, but she won’t get an answer, ever. Juyeon can wonder why she had to be the one responsible for her mother’s mistake, and he’ll never know why either. 

Juyeon trails carefully behind Jang Won, slightly surprised that she wasn’t visiting the area’s best hospital for her medical checkups. Not that this was one was bad, but it was... affordable. Taking in the sights and sounds as he enters the main hall, Jang Won advances towards the registration counter and pulls off her sunglasses.

“Here,” She slides a clipboard to the side. “Fill this visitor registration form up.” 

Juyeon picks up the pen, watching her pull out her wallet and hand it over to the administration staff. 

“Hi, I have an appointment with Ms Yoo Hye In.”

Juyeon’s eyes dart upwards from the visitor registration sheet, pupils flitting between the administrator and Jang Won, who was calmly signing into some check in registry. He can feel his breath grow shaky and unstable and all of a sudden, Jang Won’s looking at him like he was the crazy person in the room.

“What? Are you okay?” 

He parts his lips to deny the question, wishing to brush it off and simultaneously, maybe convince himself that it was just someone with the same name. 

“Jang Won! I was wondering if you were going MIA today again.”

Ironically, his heart stops. Jang Won puts on her service smile and provides her doctor a subtle wave as the two close the distance between them. 

“Of course not. Gotta make my check-up down-payment worth it. I can’t run around the city working my work if I’m unwell, can I?” 

“Well, I see you brought the future director of Apple-Korea with you,” Yoo Hye In turns to Juyeon, eyes bright and her smile convincingly kind. Her hair was short, well trimmed, and Juyeon was almost in shock that he could see the similarities between her and Jang Won. 

The tycoon whips her head upon the silence, almost shifting to nudge him. “Juyeon.”

“No, no, it’s okay! No need to rush him,” Yoo Hye In grins widely, offering a hand to him. “I’m Jang Won’s personal doctor, Yoo Hye In. You can call me Hye In.”

[brockadoodles]

Treacherous - e. pettersson

AN: I have no idea where this came from, it’s 3am and nothing makes sense anymore. But, I finally wrote something for Petey after 124983249507843 people have asked me to, so I hope you like it. It’s intentionally short, meant to be one of those moments in a single night where your characters go through everything. Let me know what you think! :) 

Word Count: 2681

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol (barely)

Elias Pettersson was quiet. Ever since his childhood, he was regarded as a person who was subdued, often hearing murmurs of descriptions of him that included every synonym for quiet that the Swedish language had. He learned not to let it bother him, because to him there was nothing wrong with being soft-spoken or reserved, he still had just as many thoughts as anyone else, he just chose who he allowed close enough to him to share them with. He moved through adolescence with his head down, his focus resting solely on perfecting his skills, training so that one day he could live out his dream. His quietness was counteracted by his work. He often felt his loudest moments were enacted on the ice, showcasing his inner thoughts in his ability to skate almost effortlessly and his hand to be quick, those thoughts translated to skills that landed him as the face of a franchise halfway across the world. It wasn’t until he got to Vancouver that he realized he no longer felt quiet, he wanted to be loud. 

When Elias met you, he was stunned for words. You were a mutual friend of Brock’s, someone who was born and raised in the very city that he now called home. He had never really been good with meeting new people and a lot of his warmth had rubbed off from Brock, who for reasons unbeknown to Elias, had welcomed him to Vancouver with an open heart and patience that most people didn’t have in an English speaking country for someone still learning the language. Brock was undeniably too friendly, but Elias found comfort in how Brock comforted him and so when he casually mentioned that some of his friends were going to be joining them for dinner one night, he trusted that friends of Brock’s couldn’t possibly be unpleasant. 

It turned out, that when Elias saw you walk up to the table, his chest started racing and he felt incredibly unnerved around you. You emulated energy that somehow pulled him toward you, and your soft smile as Brock introduced the two of you burned into his mind for the rest of the night. He was undoubtedly obsessed from the get-go, a feeling that never evaporated as he slowly got to know you and ultimately fell in love with you. Elias was no stranger to platonic love, but amorous love was another story and for the first time in years, he was quiet again when it came to verbalizing just how he felt, but he still managed to express it to you in a way that you understood. 

Days together in a group somehow shifted into days together just the two of you. Your friendship had somehow transcended into something more when he kissed you for the first time. You had tumbled into what felt like a relationship, and yet you never dared to clarify what it was. It felt good at the time, and you pushed off the insecurities you felt about the lack of label or conversation. You ignored the messiness because your heart wanted to fall for him, and your brain lacked the capacity to stop it. 

Elias followed you blindly as you led him across a bridge. He marveled at the old wooden bridge that barely seemed to be held together above the small creek. You were taking him to one of your favorite hidden spots in the city, a quiet creek that led into a rose garden tucked in behind the bustling waterfront. A small hidden gem amongst a large touristy area. You loved the contrast of being so close to so many people, yet somehow you were just far enough removed that you could find solace in your own thoughts. 

“I can’t quite figure you out, Elias.” Were the words that you murmured that changed everything for him. He had spent what felt like months hanging in this limbo with you, where on one end you were his and he was yours, and on the other, you were nothing more than friends who sometimes gave themselves the illusion that they were more. There were no words spoken to define the relationship you had, only the feeling of your hand perfectly tangling with his and the way that your lips seemed to seamlessly fit with his. He squeezed your hand tighter as you walked, a nonverbal affirmation of his feelings for you, or so he thought. 

Elias didn’t notice the way his lack of response caused your face to twist. You were, quite reasonably confused by the dynamic. Elias was everything you had dreamed that you would love, he crossed off almost every checklist that you had when it came to a person you were willing to hand your heart to. But between the nights where you stayed over when you probably shouldn’t and the dates he brought you on where you told yourself you were his partner, because that was how he acted, and the way that he held your hand without fail whenever you were out together, you couldn’t understand why he had never told you how he felt. 

You were trapped in a limbo of your own, one where you were unsure of if you could continue this half relationship with someone that you felt yourself slipping into love with, and one where you allowed yourself to move on, even if it meant you lost out on a love that you thought had potential to be it for you. It seemed like every time you tried to bring it up, to have the talk that was at this point long overdue, he would do something physical that would leave you even more confused. You were on two different wavelengths and you kept sending a signal to him, but it was like the message was in morse code, something he didn’t understand. Despite your best efforts to hang on to something you desperately wanted to be real, you could only live on physical affections for so long, eventually, your heart needed to hear the real words, and Elias was about to learn that lesson the hard way. 

It was coming up on the Canucks annual Dice and Ice event, a black-tie event where the team tried to raise money for various causes, and you were supposedly expected to be Elias’s date. You had been his date to so many things already, sometimes when Brock wanted to double with the person he was seeing, you would tag along to keep Elias company, holding his hand tightly under the table, an expression of your own affections for him. You had been his date to other Canucks events, you even were his date to the NHL Awards, kissing him proudly after he won the Calder Trophy. You had somehow over the last year tumbled into a relationship with someone who you weren’t even sure wanted your heart in the way that you wanted to give it. But you told yourself, one last event to see if he would finally take it, and if not, you told yourself that it was time to let go. 

Elias picked you up and you nearly groaned. He looked so handsome, his dark navy suit complimented his eyes, and his hair was just long enough that pieces slightly fell, even though he had clearly gelled them back. He put his hand on the small of your back as he guided you to the car, kissing your temple softly in greeting, and telling you that you looked amazing. Elias thought that those small displays of affection were enough, he had no idea that as he guided you through the doors of the gala, you were slipping through his fingers, the very ones that he was holding so tightly. 

The event was going well, you were smiling as Elias mingled amongst the crowd, each person who met him lighting up just as you usually did when you were around him. He was attentive to you, making sure that you had a drink in your hand if you wanted it and that you were by his side most of the evening until he had to do one task that pulled him away from you, leaving you exposed to Brock and his questions that put the nail in the final coffin of the hopes that you were something real to him. 

Brock slid up to you, sitting down next to you and handing you another drink. You smiled softly at your friend. 

“Having a good time?” He asked, leaning back and taking a sip of his own drink. His eyes effortlessly shifted from the room straight to yours, and it was like he could sense that something was boiling under the surface, and something about his calm demeanor had you ready to erupt what you had been keeping inside for so long now. 

“Mhm, it’s nice this year.” You nodded at him. Brock furrowed his brow and leaned forward onto his elbow, coming closer to you. 

“Are you going out with everyone after? Emil and Fanny are in town, I’m surprised you haven’t mentioned meeting them yet.” He trailed off. His short sentence was meant to be casual conversation, a subtle way of Brock asking if you had met two of the most important people to Elias. Only instead of nodding and sharing some lovely story about lunch with Emil and Fanny, your heart dropped to your stomach, because Elias hadn’t shared that they were in town with you at all. 

“He didn’t even tell me they were in town.” You shrugged and took another sip of your drink, desperately hoping that your voice wasn’t as shaky as it sounded in your head and that Brock, the person who could pick up on all of your emotions you tried to hide, would somehow let this go and not press you further, a notion that was short-lived as soon as he pressed further.  

“You guys have been together for months, that’s weird that he didn’t even mention it?” Brock questioned. And there it was, the realization that it wasn’t just in your own head that you were something more than a friend with Elias. Even his best friend thought you were together, his best friend thought that you were in a place where Elias would want to introduce you to his family. But you weren’t, and you blinked back tears as you realized that maybe you didn’t mean anything to Elias at all. 

“We’re not together, Brock. We’ve never had that discussion.” You coldly spoke. Your mind was running in overdrive, and Brock wasn’t entirely sure how to react. He just patted your wrist and smiled softly. 

“Talk to him.” That was what he said before he got up as Elias was walking toward you. Elias smiled at Brock and then at you as he sat down, no indication of him knowing how you were feeling as he did. Elias by all accounts looked happy, he looked like he had everything he had ever wanted, and you sat at that table with him and realized that you weren’t what he wanted, you were just what he used. 

“Why didn’t you tell me your brother was in town?” You ripped the bandaid off. If you were going to do this, you needed to come straight out with it before you talked yourself out of it. You deserved someone who could say that they had feelings for you, someone who could put an exclusivity on your relationship that you wanted. You deserved someone that loved you as you loved him, and you finally realized that maybe Elias wasn’t going to give you that. 

“I wasn’t sure if you wanted to meet them, I didn’t want to put pressure on you.” Elias smiled, still obtuse to the fact that you were crumbling right before his eyes, that his entire love story with you was being tossed haphazardly into a fire. 

“I can’t do this anymore, Elias.” You mumbled, setting your drink down and standing up. Elias’s eyes followed you, widening when it clicked for him that you were leaving, even though he didn’t understand why.

“What?” You tried to grab your arm and you snatched it back. It probably wasn’t your best reaction, but you had been stuck in that limbo for so long, that even if the path was sinking beneath you, you wanted to end it. You wanted to finally get out of the limbo and take back the pieces of your heart that he wasn’t receptive to. 

“Us. This. Whatever it is, Elias. I can’t do it, I can’t be halfway in this with you when I’m falling in love with you and you can’t even tell me if you like me. I’m done.” You didn’t wait for his reaction, you didn’t wait for him to process your words. Instead, you turned on your heel and walked as quickly as you could out of there, leaving Elias stunned in your wake. 

It had taken Elias four seconds to realize you were someone that he needed to know when he met you. It had taken him three weeks to understand that the pull he felt was more than platonic. It had taken a month before you were wrapped in his arms, legs tangled in his sheets. It had taken Elias four months to fall in love with you, a feeling that he was quiet about because he thought that he was expressing it to you in other ways than him just saying it. And it took Elias no more than 10 seconds before he was jogging out of the room and after you. 

He caught up behind you and grabbed your hand, his own expression sinking when he saw the tears blurring your own vision. Elias was quiet, he was reserved and guarded, and he often had trouble expressing his feelings, especially when it came to falling in love with you. He thought he had communicated it in other ways, but he was clearly wrong. You had given him your whole heart and he thought he had shown you that he was caring for it, but it turns out that his nonverbal expressions of his own love were entirely lost. 

“I don’t want this halfway. I want all of you, all of the time. I thought I was showing you that, but I think I was too quiet in my feelings for you.” He started, struggling to say everything that he wanted to. You just nodded your head for him to continue. 

“I feel in love with you four months after we met, I’ve loved you ever since. I love you now. I’m sorry that I didn’t show you that the right way, and I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you about Emil and Fanny. And I’m sorry that I made you feel like you didn’t have me. You have me, completely.” Elias grabbed onto your hands once more and everything in his eyes and his voice sank into you. You knew that he was telling the truth, you knew that he had made a mistake. 

“I love you, Elias. I just wanted to know that you wanted to love and be with me, too.” You whispered, tucking your head into his chest. Elias held you tightly, your breathing matching with the beating of his heart. 

“That’s all I want.” He said. You looked up at him, lifting your hand to the back of his neck to pull him down toward you. You thread your fingers through the ends of his hair and smiled softly. 

“You and me, then? For real this time?” You clarified. Elias just nodded and cupped your cheek, kissing you in the way that he had so many times before. You melted into his touch and realized that he had been trying to show you. He had been trying to show you his love in the ways that he touched you and cared for you. And while Elias was quiet when it came to saying the words, this was the loudest he had ever been.