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thekingofwinterblog · 4 years

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It’s all for his sake - Endeavor and the Sunk Cost Fallacy

My hero academia 301 is a pretty interesting chapter, but for me, the most notable piece of it was how Endeavour reacted to the realization that Touya couldnt surpass All Might.

upon realizing that his son might not be able to do it because of inborn physical limitations, he immediatly stopped his training, which frankly was the responsible and adult thing to do.

This stint of real parenthood did not last long however.

After taking the matter to a doctor, he is flat out told that not only cant Touya achive what endeavor wants, but it is a direct result of his incredibly selfish and irresponsible attempt to play god, by trying to breed the “perfect” hero into being.

It is how you react when you lose however, that shows who you really are, and endeavor illustrates that very, very well.

Upon being told in no uncertain terms that his attempts at Breeding an heir failed magnificently, producing a child that was not capable of resisting his own immense power, but also admonished by his doctor for even attempting it, and adviced not to try again, Endeavor instead doubled down, while focusing on the child he screwed over from the start with his attempt at genetic manipulation.

It was all for him you see. Endeavor doesnt use those words, but that is how he spins it here. it was all for Touya, all for his sake. if i stop now, then Touya was all for nothing, a mistake, im doing this for my son.

if im doing this for my son, then im not responsible for any of this.

his wife however, calls him out on it, as she understands Touya much, much more than endeavor does. or rather, she sees him fully as a human being, instead of as a thing, a weapon, a failed attempt at an heir.

Unlike Endeavor, Rei is able to see the way this all is affecting her son. She is able to see, and understand that Touya has fully accepted what Endeavor wanted him to be. a stronger, and better version of himself. however, unlike Endeavor, she only cares about him as a person.

Endeavour by comparison isnt completely uncaring about Touya. like most abusive parents, he does possess love for his offspring, but it is forever tainted by the fact that however much he might care, or not care about Touya, any familial love he has for his son is tainted by the fact that to Endeavor, he is a failed experiment, a failed heir, not his child.

He is the golden child that Endeavor was building up as his true and only heir, who he breed, trained, and molded to for that single purpose, and now that he’s reached a point where he cant continue that legacy.

so, its time to abandon him, and start over new, despite literarily having just learned how stupid this plan was, and that it can, in fact, go completely wrong, with a quirk that will fuck over the person he brings into the world.

Of course, Endeavor doesnt use those words to frame it. there is no way to pretend to be a hero, if you phrase it like that after all. Intead, this is the words he uses.

this is a very important series of panels for a great number of reasons, some that can be debated, argued, and we will probably never know the full truth to the questions because this is a series published in 2020′s shonen jump, and there are things that probably wasnt gonna fly with Hori’s editors, if it was the case.

but lets start with what can not be debated. Endeavor’s words here.

“If we want him to give it up, then we have no choice... Touya... Cant surpass him.”

These are very telling words, and however you believe The third and fourth children of the Todoroki family was concieved, there is not denying the meaning of what he’s saying here.

The only way that my son will stop being an idiot and fall into line, is if we have another baby. that is the only Right way to move forward. it is morally right, because if we dont do this, then he’s going to destroy himself.

there are two ways to interpret this scene.

The charitable way is to read it as the fact that he used Rei’s oldest son’s mental state as a justification of guilting his wife to have a third child, to give this attempt at a superpowered breeding project another shot, despite the fact that they now know that this can lead to a child who is essentially born crippled from his own powers, and despite the fact that Rei obviously understands the effect of them continuing this insanity will have on their oldest son.

the uncharitable way to look at it, is that he used this as justification for flat out raping her, and forcing a third, and then later a fourth child on her.

I personally believe the last one, given a number of factors shown in this chapter(the way this page is framed, the fact Rei obviously didnt want a third child, given she predicted exactly how touya would react, the way her eyes would latet turn when she looks at who is presumably touya which really brings to mind how she would later react to her youngest son’s face after her mental breakdown, etc.), but i’ll frankly admitt that withouth a direct quote from Hori, its impossible to know for sure one way or another.

either way however, this is a very good example of Endeavor both being influenced by, and using Sunk Cost Fallacy to justify bringing another potentially crippled child into the world for his own, selfish goals.

sunk cost Fallacy, is a mental reaction to when you invest more time and resources into a project, that you becomes so emotionally invested into said project that you will continue to invest into it, even if it reaches a point that it becomes clear that the resources you put into it, far, far outweighs the potential gains you can achieve.

because if you give up after having invested years, and years of effort to breed, raise, and train a kid, and then all that effort was absolutely wasted. hence he choose to keep going, despite having learned what a terrible idea this is.

He doesnt care about the fact that his next child might be even more crippled than his firstborn, he doesnt care about his son’s actual wellbeing. he cares about the fact that if he doesnt continue this insanity, then not only will he not achieve his dreams, but everything he did to get to this point was for absolutely nothing.

and endeavor cannot accept that. and so long as he can justify breeding more children into the world, and there being any chance they might inherit both quirks perfectly, he doesnt care about anything else.

and the moment he realised that this kid wasnt gonna cut it either, he did it again. it is not a coincidence, that the age gap between Endeavor’s second, third, and fourth children were all 3-4 years apart. because thats the age where you can usually tell when a quirk will manifest or not, as established earlier in the series.

While she isnt brought up directly by Endeavor as a justification, it is very telling that Endeavor decided on having a third child, only after his second child was old enough that he could tell that that there was no chance she could take the place as his heir instead.

So, he had his third child, and as time passed and it became obvious that he wasn’t gonna be able to fulfill Endeavor’s goals either, he dumped him, and instead breed a fourth child into existence.

and finally, he struck gold. he did it. he produced Shoto.

everything was finally worth it, and now, everything would be absolutely fine. the cost fallacy had reached its end, and it was now all full sails ahead.

except of course it wasnt.

His oldest son, now in middle school, had been raised from birth to believe he would surpass his father, only to be thrown away, and getting to see his father try to replace him, not once, but twice.

frankly, this scene is probably my favorite in the chapter, because it goes to show Endeavor’s mindset. Natsuo made a point that their father completely ignored his older children. and he did... from Natsuo’s perspective. however, having a more thourough picture of things, we can clearly see that this wasnt the case with Touya.

Endeavor genuinly cared for Touya, enough that once he got that child he tried to breed into existence 4 times, he genuinly wanted him to just abandon trying to be a hero. he genuinly thinks of himself as a good dad here, wanting his son to abandon the mission he set out for him before he was born. of course, with context, this heartwarming scene is incredibly sad and insidious, because we understand why Endeavor got so attached to his oldest child. because he WAS the golden child. he was the child Endeavor genuinly cared about, and invested in, and trained personally with great warmth and enthusiasm.

And not only did he abandon him as a failed project the moment he realized he wasnt gonna live up to his ridiculous standards, but he literarily created 2 more kids to try and replace him, just as his oldest son was old enough to understand what exactly his dad was doing. over the course of this chapter, we get to see Touya’s start as a 5-8 year old, his deteriorating mental state over the years, until he finally seemed to reach the breaking point with Shoto’s birth sometime in his middle school years 12-15.

Endeavor is in this scene, just not capable of understanding why Touya so desperately wants to become a hero, when obviously he isnt physically able to do so. he isnt able to understand that he is 100% to blame for the fact that his son is having a full emotional breakdown after literaly being replaced by his siblings.

In other words, Endeavor genuinly think’s he’s a good person. a person who has made a few mistakes along the way sure, but a person who was always justified in the end, and now that he’s having to face the fact that as dabi would later say “The past never dies” and has to face the aftermath of his inane attempt to play god for the pettiest of reasons, things simply arent going to work out.

He isnt going to have a happy family, who can now put the awful early years behind them, he put way too much effort, caused too much suffering and sacrificed too many years of his life for this not to work out as he wants.

after all, if he walks away from this project now, and lets Shoto have a normal childhood, and decide for himself, with no pressure from him, wheter or not to become a hero, then the sunk cost fallacy will have reached a negative end. it will all have been for nothing.

and we know he did eventually double down on this mentality, literarily beating into Shoto that he WAS going to become a hero, and there was not but’s or no’s about it.

there was no way that Endeavor was EVER going to let things be for nothing. His treatment of his older children could not be for nothing. His treatment of his wife could not be for nothing. His treatment of Shoto, and the way he beat him black and blue to train him, could not be for nothing.

Because if it all was for nothing, if everything he feels guilty about was for absolutely nothing, then he was in fact, a bad, bad person, who had no justification for anything he ever did.

#my hero academia #touya todoroki #dabi #endeavor #endeavour #enji todoroki #rei todoroki #character study #301 #meta

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a-libra-writes · 3 years

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hello, i am here! Stannis with the prompt: a diary where you can communicate with your soulmate, please. it can be hc's or scenario; however you choose to quench my thirst for him, I will be grateful.

hi molly, thank u for giving me such a treat!!! bc this was my first prompt and it... uh ....................

really got away from me

(LOTS OF ANGST BUT ITLL BE OK I PROMISE MAYBE)

The first thing he felt about it was annoyance. The six year old second son of Lord Baratheon looked down and saw that someone had doodled all over his book. He figured it was Robert, though he'd never seen a quill in his brother's hand unless it was being forced by the maester. He set the leather bound book in front of his mother expectantly, silently waiting for an explanation. When she looked at it and gave him a curious glance, he finally spoke.

"Robert's been drawing in it," Stannis said. He placed it right on top of her embroidery so she'd see. Lady Cassana wasn't bothered, rather, she was curious. She picked up the book and flipped through the pages.

"Did you see him do it, sweetling?"

"No." The lack of evidence didn't deter him - no, this was evidence enough. He didn't understand what his mother was so amused about.

Lady Cassana stopped on one of the pages. She smiled at the messy drawing of what was probably a cat catching a mouse. Under that was a tidy little castle with a series of smiling figures. "I don't think it's your brother, Stannis."

Stannis frowned, ready to argue that fact, but she asked, "Do you know what a soulmate is, sweetling?"

“No.”

“It’s a special person that only you can speak with this way,” She touched the book. “It's a special thing, I did it when I was your age. It’s the will of the gods, my love. You should write something back."

He hesitated. “Do I… have to?”

“Not if you don’t want to. But perhaps say hello, give it a try.” Lady Cassana said. She was smiling broadly now. “Enjoy it while you can.”

"What if they're not literate?"

Maester Cressen looked up from his papers, surprised the usually quiet boy was speaking during lessons. Stannis repeated, “What if my… soul mate doesn’t know their letters? You said the smallfolk don't."

The Maester stood and walked over to the leather book. Two years later, and it still looked in good condition. Stannis took care of this things, especially this. As usual the page was covered in whimsical drawings.

“Have you tried to write to them, my lord?”

“Not yet.” Stannis was furrowing his brow already, wanting his questions answered. “What happens if one soul mate can’t write, but the other can? What if both can't?"

“My lord, there's no need to worry about things that are irrelevant to you.”

“What do the smallfolk do?” Stannis pressed on. “Draw pictures like this? How do they find each other? How do they know what the other person looks like?"

Maester Cressen was already turning back to his papers. “Soulmates don’t always find each other, my lord, nor should they expect to.”

“Why not?”

“Distance, lack of communication, familial duties.” The maester said dismissively. “If you’ll return to your lessons—”

“I finished. What’s the point of soulmates if they can never meet?"

Maester Cressen sighed. There was no escaping this anytime soon, he feared. “It’s the will of the gods, my lord, and a great mystery we maesters have studied for centuries. It’s best not to think much of it, however. Draw or write back in the book, if you wish, but do not spend too much time with it. It’s best not to get expectations of someone you will likely never meet.”

Stannis looked down at the book, startled by a new drawing already appearing. He couldn’t see them being made, only when they were finished. It was a school of fish, or maybe a flock of birds. Wouldn’t it be simple to ask where this person lived, and go see them? What was the point of all this if he was just meant to ignore it? He wanted to ignore it, but this mysterious person kept drawing all over his notes and it was distracting.

“Mother said it’s 'the will of the gods', too. Does that mean it’s bad to ignore it?”

The maester stood up and closed the leather book. He replaced it with a chart of various colorful coat of arms and a map. “I daresay it’s time to move on to the next lesson."

It took him a few days, but the lordling decided to write in the book. Stannis wasn't much of an artist, so Hello seemed like a good start. He was relieved when there was a simple ‘hello!’ written back within a few minutes, and later, a scribbly flower with a long stalk underneath. Seeing the words form on their own so quickly, and in response to him, unnerved Stannis. He closed the book and tried not to think about it the rest of the day.

He checked a week later, where more drawings were present, with more words: whats your nam?

He wrote back, Name has an 'e'.

And before his eyes, a minute later, there was a name… and a house, and a title. Caspian.

She was a highborn lady? Stannis looked at the page, not sure what to think about it. It’d be alright to write to a lady, wouldn’t it? Maester Cressen was the one worried about this soulmate business. Perhaps it was because a lord and peasant couldn’t be together? Stannis knew that rule already. He knew the decorum and niceties his parents rehearsed him through, even at his young age. He walked to the library to find a map, and in the time he finally located it and rolled it out, there was more on the page.

A drawing of something weird and arrow-shaped. this is our sigil. its a manta ray.

Stannis had never seen one, but he had a sense that wasn’t what they looked like. He tried looking through the map, but words kept appearing.

whats your nam where are you from? ?? are you a boy or girl do you like horses ? I like swiming and horses! im good at it

He considered closing the book again, rolling up the map, going back to whatever he was doing before. If there was no point, then why bother with this? ... Then again, he’d have to go back to the training yard, and Robert was there swinging around a huge wooden sword.

Stannis frowned, deciding this was the less annoying (and painful) activity for now. He found an ink pot and quill, held it tightly and wrote in a fine penmanship—

My name is Stannis Baratheon.

The last part smudged, and it didn’t look exactly how his father signed it, but it was his best. The response wasn’t immediate, and he quickly saw why. A drawing of a stag appeared on the paper before the words did.

Its good to meat you! lets be friends

Friends? Friends. He thought about it. Stannis didn’t have friends, just brothers. He didn’t think he needed any. This didn’t have to be so bad, though, he could try. If it was too tiresome, or too... strange, he could stop. Maester Cressen wanted him to stop, anyhow, and his mother said he didn't have to.

It’s spelled ‘meet’. We can be friends.

Lady Cassana patted his mess of black hair, and Stannis didn’t flinch away this time. Instead, he asked, “Were you and father soulmates?”

“No,” She answered honestly. She was always honest, and he liked that. His father joked too much. “Do you remember what I told you about duty? Sometimes we have to set aside our hearts to best serve our realm. Sometimes we have to set aside this.”

She gave the leather book back to him. Maester Cressen had taken it, and he was determined to accept the punishment, but it bothered him more than he wanted to say. He was grateful his mother returned it, though he was struggling to meet her eyes. His ears were still red from embarrassment, but she wasn’t upset, or teasing, or scolding.

“It hurt me to set my own down, but I knew it wasn’t meant to be. Your father had one that he never wrote to. The idea of having it and setting it aside was too much for him. And yet, we love each other very much, and we love our sons.” Lady Cassana stopped touching his hair when he finally squirmed away. Stannis ran his fingers along the leather spine and the uneven parchment bound inside the book.

When he took a long time to answer, she spoke softly. “It’s your decision, Stannis.”

That night, he wrote in the book, asking what she’d do when they grew up. When she'd stop writing. The response was instant. There was a drawing of a sad girl next to her words.

your my friend! i like writing to you. do you want to stop?

I don’t. Stannis decided, and that was it.

The talks still came, though. It happened before, several times, and here it was again. It didn’t matter that he stopped bringing the book to his lessons, or that he only wrote in the privacy of his room. Maester Cressen always seemed to know.

“It’s for your own good that you begin to set it aside, Stannis,” The old man said. He always seemed old, but when he was scolding it was especially so.

Stannis wasn’t one to talk back, but he still struggled to hide his scowl. This wasn’t the first time the maester made him set his jaw and tense it up. It wasn’t his business. She never discouraged it, so he didn’t understand why Maester Cressen had to.

“It’s not inappropriate,” He said. “She’s a lady. I never write improperly, it's like sending letters."

“Sending a strange lady letters is inappropriate,” The Maester sighed. “Especially without the knowledge of her family. What would they say?"

“She could tell them at anytime."

“Do you tell your lord father and lady mother all that you write, then?”

Stannis gritted his teeth and turned away. At ten and three, Stannis could already see over the old man’s head, and he didn't feel like a child, so he didn't appreciate being talked to like one. “You don’t speak to Robert about these matters.”

“Robert is at the Eyrie, no doubt being told the same by Lord Arryn. Stannis, do you understand why I say these things? Do you understand the trouble it could cause you, and worse, her?”

Maester Cressen often referred to ‘her’, or the girl, even if she was just as grown as Stannis. He didn't ask her identity, and Stannis didn't give it. He hated having to hear this conversation again. Of all the trouble Robert was already causing in the Eyrie — he saw those letters, it was his duty to attend to them while his parents were at sea — Stannis felt like his own actions were hardly important. There would be weeks where he couldn’t write to her at all, or she was busy as well. If anyone tried to read what they wrote, gods forbid, it was mostly idle talk and drawings.

Lots and lots of drawings, she still had that habit. She was getting very good at them. Stannis brought his mind back to the present. “I understand.” He said, in a tone that made it clear he didn’t actually intend to stop.

Case in point, he pulled out the worn leather book that evening. It was the second, or maybe the third one. If she didn’t draw so much they’d have more room, but sometimes Stannis wrote a lot, too. She made it easy to do that. It was alright if she didn’t answer right away, or if at all. It was good to just write it.

He frowned as he moved to the most recent page. It was a short, curt sentences, which wasn’t like her. There were no pictures.

My cousin died this morning. We were riding together, and she fell from her horse. I couldn’t help her. No one blames me, but I feel terrible. I’ve been crying all day. I’m going to the Godswood tonight to pray for forgiveness. I might be quiet. I'm sorry.

‘I might be quiet’. ‘I might not write tonight.’ ‘I’ll write to you tomorrow’. ‘I’ll tell you about it when I can’. Those were phrases the two of them were used to. It was expectant. They may not write every day, or every week, but eventually they will.

Take the time you need. I’ll be here for you.

It made his chest hurt to write that, but he knew it was the right thing. It’s what she would always say to him, and without fail, he’d eventually come around and tell her. She was the only one he really told… anything. He wondered if the same was true for her. She mentioned visiting ladies now and again, a knight’s daughter she played with, and… this cousin.

He kept the book beside him the rest of the evening, knowing she likely wouldn’t respond. By the time she did, the earlier conversation with the maester had left his mind.

The longest they’d gone without writing was during the following year. It took months before he could pick the book up again, even look at it. It was months using all the willpower he had to get out of bed and carry on. There was Renly to look after, and Storm’s End to attend to, and the duties that Robert neglected when he returned to the Eyrie. He should have stayed, but he didn’t. So Stannis took care of it. He did what was right.

When he was finally able to pick up the book, when the choking pain keeping him up at night had dulled to just a constant ache that allowed sleep now and again, he hesitated.

The latest page was inquiries of how he was, where he was. There was a variety of pictures, black and some colors she’d managed to get ahold of. Her manta rays looked like proper rays, and so did the stags she had become so fond of. She drew some ships she’d seen in the harbor, a cat that liked to hide away in her bedroom. Then the pictures stopped.

My father told me what happened. Stannis, I’m here. You can write to me, whenever you can. I’ll always be here.

It hurt again. He closed the book, listened to the fire flickering loudly in the hearth in his room. It was becoming stuffy, but he didn’t want to open a window. He could hear the waves and the crashes against the rock from his window, and that would lead to the sounds of broken wood and screams in his sleep.

He moved closer to the fire, away from those sounds. Flipping through the old book’s pages, looking at the art and some of the sillier things she wrote. Apparently when he’d make her laugh, she’d screw up some letters. She told him as much. When he corrected any spelling, she liked to make the same mistake and circle it. She liked to draw little figures that were supposed to be them, but it was awful on purpose, and they were usually doing something ridiculous like riding a dragon.

Looking back on those gave him the strength to flip to the newest page. He stared at it, wondering if he should stop. He was acting Lord of Storm’s End. Wasn’t his duty even more important than this, and wasn’t her reputation in danger? ‘Willed by the gods’, they said, but he no longer believed in those. What gods would smash his parents and their great ship against the rocks of their own castle? The same stupid gods that would create this... this connection in a world where it would inevitably be severed.

He gritted his teeth, feeling the pain shoot up across his jaw and straight to his head, where a headache would start. The fire was right there. It would be easy to …

His hands moved on their own. The words were sloppy and left heavy ink blotches on the paper. I’m here.

I am too. I missed you.

The response was near instantaneous. Perhaps if she waited, he could’ve done it. He could’ve burned it, if she hadn’t wrote that. Maybe it didn’t matter what she’d say. The sudden longing and loneliness hit him all at once, but it was easy to respond.

I won’t do it again. Being gone for this long.

A pause, a heartbeat, and a tensing of his jaw that made his head ache again. He added in an anxious scrawl, I missed you too.

It was another sleepless night, but for once, it wasn’t because of the nightmares and the crashing waves. The sun came up as he wrote in the margins of the last page, promising to find a new book.

There was modest wooden box he kept them in, hidden under his bed. He was good at hiding it now. No one had bothered mentioning Stannis’ old habit anymore, assuming he’d grown out of it. He’d dated all of them to the best of his knowledge, though he rarely went back to read them. He used to, but that simple act flustered him horribly. They were still in good condition, except for one that had been partially chewed by a hunting hound. The one time he was careless.

The hound was no longer around, and he regretted that. He liked dogs. He liked that one, upset as he was when she chewed the diary years ago. She was still a good, loyal dog. He had to butcher her with the rest.

Stannis tried to remember when they ate the dogs. Thinking was a slow, laborious process now. He had to sit down to do it, and getting up was even worse. He stayed standing as long as possible, afraid of what would happen if he stopped. He couldn’t stop, not while his men needed him, and Renly, and Robert.

He moved slowly. It was hard to tell if it was to conserve energy or if he simply had no energy left. Stannis carefully unwrapped the small leather strap that kept the diary bound and closed. His shaking hands struggled to grasp the paper and turn the pages, but he managed. It was the writing that was the hardest. At least there was plenty of paper and ink, only because no one could eat it.

When he looked at the page again, the lighting was different. The candle was lower than before. He’d dropped his quill on the floor — no, he was on the floor, leaning against the cool stone. Stannis didn’t remember falling. He wasn’t sure if he passed out, or fell asleep. Again he turned to the proper page and picked up the quill. He tried to write before he remembered he needed ink. The ink dragged across the page as he wrote languidly, Are you there

The question mark was more of an ugly splotch that spread across the paper.

Yes, always.

Her family supported the rebellion, being sworn to Eddard Stark, and outraged at what the Mad King had done to his father and brother. Stannis told himself it made writing easier, not that he’d ever give her any information that could endanger her. Early on, they didn’t speak of it. Especially now, he couldn’t. He couldn’t…

He couldn’t… think. Stannis struggled for words. He mentioned what day it was, how many men he had left. A log that helped keep him grounded, something he hated to subject her to, but he needed the clarity. Sometimes she corrected him on the day, and that startled him. As he finished his short report, his hand trembled, and he dropped the quill again. Stannis exhaled, forcing the air through his lungs, then struggled to breath in again.

Not for the first time, he wondered if this was dying.

He wasn’t sure how much time passed before he looked at the page again. She wrote a lot, and he couldn’t remember when it was there.

When you make it through this disgusting siege — and you will make it, Stannis — I’ll be there. I swear it, I’ll sail down to Storm’s End with my family’s ships. I don’t care anymore. I want to be there.

She’d said as much before, when this started. Stannis discouraged her. He didn’t have the strength for that anymore. Instead, he fought to keep his eyes open, fought to think about it, difficult as thinking was. Thinking of their meeting used to be a surefire way of a day full of anxious thoughts, but now it was… grounding. He couldn’t see the end of the rebellion, or the end of this siege. He just had to endure it. That’s what Robert said: Endure it, brother. Hold it for me.

But he could see her, in his thoughts. He could try. Some years ago, she asked what he looked like, and he responded as such: Blue eyes, black hair, like his father and brothers. Asking the same of her felt… strange. She didn’t answer right away, so he panicked. He said she didn’t have to do such a thing. It was inappropriate. She told him to wait, which he thought was odd.

Several hours later, she took up nearly a whole page with a ‘messy’ self-portrait: her words, not his. It was only a bust, but it still transfixed him. It was clear from the drawing she had looked in a mirror, and it was messy, and it was surrounded by words describing her hair color and her favorite dress and her eyes. Stannis couldn’t look at the page for days after that. He’d break out in a sweat just thinking about it.

It was comforting to think about the old picture now. Maybe 'comforting' wasn’t the right word, but she was the one who was good with words, and pictures, and little fantasies like this. She liked to write about what they could do if they met.

Maybe he took too long to respond again. She had written more. We’ll meet and you’ll show me the drum walls around Storm’s End. You promised. I’ll bring my best paintings, I made one for you. I don’t care if it’s allowed or not, it’s a gift. I want to see you so badly it hurts.

Stannis touched the letters. He was startled by how his pale hands seemed to blend into the parchment. He didn’t recognize the knuckles sticking out. He wondered what she sounded like, and how she laughed. He didn’t think he could manage it now. Stannis glanced around for the quill, dipped it into ink with a great deal of effort, and slowly slid it across the paper. He stopped abruptly, ruining the words.

You’re the strongest, most noble man I know. You will make it through this and the rebellion will end, and I’ll be with you. I swear it before the old gods and new.

The ink seeped into the paper, the quill trembled in his hand as he tried to hold it properly. He was dying, he decided. Only dying men ate disgusting leather they tried to boil into water and infected rats. Even the latter was becoming scarce. He scrawled a response, struggling to pull the words together.

I miss you.

I miss you too, Stannis.

#tihs is so self indulgent kfskfks #pls dont expect the other prompts to be this long haha i just went kinda nuts!!#stannis baratheon x reader #libra fics #libra minis

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ashdumpsterpile · 3 years

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Ohmygod YES Susan Pevensie is awesome please talk to me about Susan i want to know everything you have to say

Literally THANK YOU for asking me this bc Susan Pevensie is a character I never get asked about and I have So Many Opinions.

I'm going to start by saying that Susan used to be my least favorite character in the series. This goes for the books and the movies. Some of it was for personal reasons--she reminds me of a couple of annoying ppl I know irl--but it was also bc I watched Prince Caspian which shoehorned her into a relationship with Caspian which I hated.

HOWEVER. I ended up rethinking this position after interacting with Susan fans and realizing that there are so many wonderful things to love about her!

(putting under the cut bc this got long)

Things Ash Loves About Susan Pevensie

Aight I'm not going to do a formal analysis yet on her, but instead rant about some of the unrelated things I adore about Susan Pevensie.

Susan the Archer

Look we all love archery here. I don't have anything more to say.

Okay, I actually do have more to say. I love the fact that Susan is a complete badass with the bow. You get the general impression that she's one of the royals in charge of public relations, traditions, foreign policy, etc. and yet she's the most competent archer in the series. One of the few things I liked about the movies is how they didn't downplay this. They actually let her be a badass and show off her skills.

Also the part where she kicks Trumpkin's ass was awesome.

Susan the Gentle

Susan being the most passive Pevensie was something I definitely underappreciated as a teenager. I think my non-ability to see past "I'm not like other girls" narrative and the combination of Susan being described as the most traditionally feminine woman in the Narnia series is what initially turned me off from her.

HOWEVER, now it's one of my favorite attributes! I love that Susan is a badass and the most beautiful woman in Narnia. She has hair down to her feet, every man and woman in the kingdom want to fuck her, and she's still a fucking badass who will not hesitate to kick your ass.

Susan the Sister

Most of my thoughts of Susan as an older sister mostly stem from my own personal headcanons, but she is an awesome sister to her siblings. She's Peter's voice of reason, Edmund's sass partner, and Lucy's big sister.

Susan the Mom-Friend

She is a literal mother-figure for Corin.

"[...] the most beautiful lady he had ever seen rose from her place and threw her arms round him and kissed him, saying: "Oh Corin, Corin, how could you? And thou and I such close friends ever since thy mother died. [...]"

-The Horse and His Boy, 33-34

Most everything I have to say about this ventures into headcanon territory, but I love the idea of Susan basically adopting Corin after his mom dies. The way she trusts Cor--who she thinks is Corin in this chapter--is really sweet and I wish we could've seen more of that relationship.

Susan the Flawed

Something I notice from the fandom is a lot of people who hate Susan tend to because of her flaws. On the other hand, most Susan stans like to wave away these flaws and blame C.S. Lewis for being misogynistic or Aslan for being a "cruel god" and ignore the fact that she is a deeply flawed person.

Susan gets something of a "reverse redemption arc" in The Chronicles of Narnia. This makes her not only a fascinating foil to Edmund--as both are analytical, logical people--but an interesting character by herself.

She starts out in TWW as very skeptical of Narnia and it's whole deal and also very condescending to Lucy throughout. She ultimately does admit that Lucy was right and does get on board with the whole prophecy at the same time Peter does, and ends the book being crowned "the Gentle Queen."

In The Horse and His Boy, she has a very interesting dynamic with Edmund and in even more interesting relationship with Rabadash. They don't even interact on-page with each other, but it's highly implied that she was interested in him when he was a guest in Narnia. His behavior obviously changed when she visited him in Tashbaan, but you have to wonder what their dynamic was like before for her to travel all the way to his home when relations between the countries were strained at best.

Prince Caspian is where the cracks start showing through. Susan has lived an entire life as an adult in Narnia, gets thrown back to England with her siblings, and is yet again in Narnia as a child. This book is what really emphasizes her one fatal flaw: convenience.

(Put a pin in that thought, I'll get back to it.)

Susan denies once again that Lucy saw something that the rest of them can't seen. She continues this narrative until every other sibling finally acknowledges Lucy in the right and only then does she apologize.

The last mention of Susan is in The Last Battle, where all of her flaws rise up against her in the worst way possible. I have a lot of controversial opinions on this that I'm going to address later, but I just want to say that Susan's reverse-redemption arc is something I actually like about her.

(There is also evidence that Susan does get a full redemption arc, just as Edmund and Eustace did, but C.S. Lewis was pretty much done with The Chronicles of Narnia at the point and instead encouraged fans to write their own version of how that went down.)

Okay, back to convenience being Susan's fatal flaw. So the one thing that comes up time and time again in the series is that Susan is very focused on material comforts. I believe it's implied that she's vain, and it's canonical that her own personal comfort spurs her to make decisions.

"[...] I really believed it was him — he, I mean — yesterday. When he warned us not to go down to the fir wood. And I really believed it was him tonight, when you woke us up. I mean, deep down inside. Or I could have, if I'd let myself. But I just wanted to get out of the woods and — and — oh, I don't know [...]"

Prince Caspian, 81

Prince Caspian has the strongest examples of Susan doing this, but certainly there's evidence elsewhere. There are a lot of fans who are distressed by this, claiming that Aslan and the others are too hard on her and shouldn't judge.

Honestly, I like that she's written with this flaw. Not only is it very relatable--(my own personal comfort and convenience is something I highly prioritize too)--but it humanizes a character who otherwise is ridiculously op and basically the Helen of Troy of the series. It may sound like I'm using this as an excuse to rant, but I really wouldn't have her any other way.

Susan As Portrayed by Anna Popplewell

Movie!Susan is a fucking delight.

She's sarcastic and badass and awesome and I could spend hours heaping praise on Anna's acting and her portrayal of Susan, but I can already tell that this post is going to be long so, I'll just stop here.

(10/10 want to be stabbed by her tho.)

Personal Headcanons

Let's talk about my fanon thoughts. I have many.

Susan is Aro

There's canonical evidence for this! Susan is a character who is heavily pursued by suitors everywhere, and even lets herself be courted by many of them, but chooses not to settle down. Even when she gets back to England and is described as only having interest in parties and material things, boys aren't mentioned.

I like to think that in The Horse in His Boy Susan was interested in Rabadash at first because he was a brilliant conversationalist. Nothing she says about him implies romantic interest, before and after she realizes the truth of his intentions.

Susan and Edmund Were Best Friends

This might be my love for The Horse and His Boy showing itself, but I think Susan and Edmund were thrown into circumstances where they interacted the most with each other.

Edmund is the ruler in charge of politics. Susan is the ruler in charge of Cair Paravel's public image. I imagine they spent time as ambassadors to other countries and planning royal functions.

They're also the most level-headed and logical out of their siblings, so they probably found a lot in common.

Susan Fancast

I literally just said I loved Anna's potrayal of Susan's (and I love what they gave us of older Susan too in LWW!), but I read the books in 2008 and my parents didn't let me see the movies bc I was like...nine years old and they thought it would be too scary.

So I had to headcanon my own interpretations.

Queen Susan the Gentle:

For some reason Merlin wasn't too scary for me to watch and I fell in love with Katie McGrath in like. Two episodes so. (On an unrelated note, I also fancast Bradley James as Peter at the time.)

Anyway, fanon Susan is basically Morgana Pendragon pre-evil arc. Sassy as hell, hot as fuck, and can kick your ass.

Unpopular Opinions

Yeah, feel free to skip this part if having controversial fandom opinions is a deal breaker for you.

The Problem With Susan Isn't Actually A Problem

I'm about to start so much discourse in the Narnia fandom, but C.S. Lewis's choices with her in The Last Battle weren't misogynistic. Bear in mind, I'm not saying that all of his writing choices in the series were A++ or excusing away certain racist/sexiest bits, but it's honestly baffling to me that people are so up in arms over Susan's exclusion in the final book.

So the part that everyone loses their shit over is as follows:

"My sister Susan," answered Peter shortly and gravely, "is no longer a friend of Narnia."

"Yes," said Eustace, "and whenever you've tried to get her to come and talk about Narnia or do anything about Narnia, she says 'What wonderful memories you have! Fancy your still thinking about all those funny games we used to play when we were children.'"

"Oh Susan!" said Jill, "she's interested in nothing now-a-days except nylons and lipstick and invitations. She always was a jolly sight too keen on being grown-up."

"Grown-up, indeed," said the Lady Polly. "I wish she would grow up. She wasted all her school time wanting to be the age she is now, and she'll waste all the rest of her life trying to stay that age. Her whole idea is to race on to the silliest time of one's life as quick as she can and then stop there as long as she can."

The Last Battle, 83-84

There's a lot to unpack here and I first want to say that everyone's opinion on this part, no matter how different than mine, is valid. I'm going to be quoting some other ppl's opinions on here and by no means am I bashing them. I just want to address my feelings on the matter and the best way to do that is to cite the thoughts of ppl who have opposing ideas.

Here are some arguments on Tumblr I've heard regarding "The Problem of Susan":

"How about we talk about what might have happened if Narnia hadn't deserted Susan? [...] What if we didn't tell Susan she had to go grow up in her own world and then shame and punish her for doing just that? She was told to walk away and she went. She did not try to stay a child all her life, wishing for something she had been told she couldn't have again."

"Narnia is filled with metaphors (often not very subtle ones) that are supposed to teach us how to be, and the most glaring one for any young girl to absorb is that it's okay to be a girl like Lucy, unthreatening and cheerful and valiant and faithful, but to be a girl like Susan gets you punished - in fact, you aren't just punished, you're destroyed."

"why do we call it ‘the problem’ where’s the problem about a young woman dealing with her trauma and choosing her own path, actively making the choice to keep living and to stay and to carve a life out in England when her siblings couldn’t? what is the problem about susan forgetting to somehow cope with what she’s experienced? why is it ‘the problem of susan’ that she recontextualised her faith?"

And then there's JK Rowling who said this:

There comes a point where Susan, who was the older girl, is lost to Narnia because she becomes interested in lipstick. She's become irreligious basically because she found sex. I have a big problem with that.

It's weird how I'm still finding new ways to hate JKR in the year 2021. Again, there is absolutely zero implication that Susan had sex when she came back to England. ZERO. Did she actually read the books? IDK. If someone shares this opinion pls reply with actual canonical evidence.

Back on topic, I'm a firm believer of death of the author and interpreting art via your own experiences. Which is why I'm also going to share my own interpretation by saying y'all are wrong.

Susan Pevensie was not abandoned by Narnia. She was not barred from Narnia because she is traditionally feminine or because she "owned her sexuality" (another opinion I didn't have time to condense down for this post) or because she recontextualized her faith or even because she deserved to be punished.

I also fail to see how Susan recontexualized her faith, as the entire point of it all is that she has none. Bringing this back to Susan's fatal flaw (personal convenience/material comforts), her prioritizing herself over her own faith is the reason she is "no longer a friend of Narnia." Not...whatever fanon y'all are imposing on her character.

Susan is not being punished for liking lipstick and looking pretty. Susan's not even being punished. Y'all read Neil Gaiman's The Problem of Susan and forgot it wasn't canon.

There are many reasons Susan is not in Aslan's Country (one of them being that she's not actually dead yet), but the main one has to do with this:

"[...] But there I have another name. You must learn to know me by that name. This was the very reason why you were brought to Narnia, that by knowing me here for a little, you may know me better there.”

Voyage of the Dawn Treader, 215-216

Yeah, okay that's why Susan is no longer a friend of Narnia. The implication when the Pevensies are told that they can no longer enter Narnia is that they are to find Aslan in other places. Susan doesn't do this, instead choosing to focus her life on material things. It isn't the lipstick, it's that she only wants the lipstick.

Susan Had Sex In The Books

Oh and not in the context y'all are thinking. (Again, there are no implications that Susan was barred from Narnia for having sex or that she had sex when she came back to England.)

So there's actual canonical evidence that Susan and Rabadash had a sexual relationship. Sort of.

"What think you? We have been in this city fully three weeks. Have you yet settled in your mind whether you will marry this dark-faced lover of yours, this Prince Rabadash, or no?"

-The Horse and His Boy, 35

Edmund calls Rabadash her lover. Not her suitor. I don't know if the word had a different meaning in 1954, but it feels like C.S. Lewis is saying that they're fucking. I'm not really happy with the idea of Susan sleeping with an abuser, but really proud of her for Getting Some as a woman born in a time period where having premarital sex was a big no-no.

This also invalidates the weird opinion going on that Susan was barred from Narnia because she had sex.

Suspian Is The Worst

I haven't really talked about Movie!Susan much, but as long as we're talking unpopular opinions, it's worth noting that I hate Suspian. Some of it is the "Susan is Aro" headcanon screaming inside of me, but it's also the fact that it's written poorly, does nothing interesting for either character and generally comes across as awkward.

I feel like they were trying to make Prince Caspian sexy and relevant to teens. It came across as super heteronormative and unnecessary.

It also gets really really weird bc the next movie then gives Caspian and Edmund mad chemistry and we're all just like........ok.

Final Thoughts

Susan may not be my favorite character in the series, but she's grown on me over the years. I have many issues with fanon interpretations of her--which definately fueled some of my disdain for her initally--and I don't identify as a Susan Apologist.

I do however adore Susan and have many headcanons for her not mentioned here. I love reading fanfic, writing fanfic and meta, and generally having conversations about her and would love to talk more about it.

I welcome criticism (CONSTRUCTIVE) and conversation on all of my opinions and observations. Please drop into my inbox. <3

#susan pevensie #the chronicles of narnia #the problem of susan #narnia #meta #narnia meta #susan meta #ash does fandom #ash does meta

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spiderman-homecomeme · 4 years

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you know how to treat it (you know how to eat it)

in which a very drunk Peter calls MJ late one night and tells her about one of his biggest fantasies

thotumn. day 6 & 9. face-sitting. “Shut up.” “Why don’t you make me?”

Thank you again @spideysmjs for setting this up! and bc i am a grandma i don’t know how to schedule things correctly, so this is goin up a little early! Enjoy!

Michelle blinks, eyes itching with exhaustion as she finally closes the textbook in her lap, tossing aside the convoluted words and scribbled notes. It’s late, too late for having an eight AM class in the morning, but Dr. Wheeler seems to have it out for her class, sending out an assignment with just twelve hours to go. You won’t have time in the real world, she’d said. People will throw things at you and ask for it back in an hour, she’d said.

While MJ didn’t doubt the validity of that statement, she thought thirty pages of notes with no warning was a little excessive. This is just undergrad.

Her phone pings, and she knows it’s from Cindy, ranting about that very same assignment. And sure enough, she sees the text wall, the string of upside down smiley-faces. Tapping out a reply in solidarity and a quick good night, MJ sets her phone aside, flopping back against the mattress and tugging the blanket up to her chin.

She’s just turned off her bedside lamp, just nestled into the covers, just found the that perfect spot on the bed, when the buzzing of her phone on the nightstand yanks her back into the conscious world.

Blowing a puff of air through her lips, her curls landing back on her face as she sits up, she grabs for her phone. And even if she’s a little annoyed, a sleepy smile stretches across her lips as Peter’s face lights up the screen.

“Hey.” Her voice comes out in a tired, croaky murmur.

“Emmmmmmm Jaaaaaaaaaaay,” Peter draws out warmly, so much so that she swears she can see his silly, delirious grin.

So he’s drunk.

“Hey, Pete,” she says again, falling back against the pillows. “What’s up?”

“Jus’ wanted to call and say hi—” he says slowly, as if he’s careful not to trip over his words, trying to sound sober even though he’s very much not. “—to my beautiful girlfriend.”

She cracks another smile, glancing at the alarm clock on her nightstand, knocking her feet together. “At… One in the morning?”

Peter gasps. “Aw, shit. Em, did I wake you?”

“Well, no. Not really,” she lets out a light laugh. “I was just getting in bed.”

“Oh. Okay, good.” She hears shifting on his side, hearing him almost drop the phone as he shuffles around what she assumes is his own bed. “Yeah, me too. Harry, Ned, and I went out and… I’ve been drinking. Just a li’l bit. But we got home and I just was like ‘Wow! I really wanna hear MJ’s voice.’ So I called you. Here I am.”

The ooey, gooey side of her that melts when Peter says anything of the sort threatens to come out, and for not the first time, she’s glad to not live in the dorms anymore, her only roommate being on the other side of the apartment. “Cute,” she says.

“Just know I’m giving you the biggest phone-hug right now.” His voice is muffled as he no doubt pushes the phone against his face.

Even cuter.

And even though she feels a little silly, she squeezes her phone, too. “Weirdo,” she says, unable to hide the affection in her tone—though to be fair, she’s not really trying all that hard.

“But you loooooove meeeeee.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“And I love you!” There’s more shuffling on his end, his grunts from trying to get comfortable making her grin. He lets out a long sigh. “God, I can’t wait to see you this weekend.”

MJ’s chest warms at the reminder. “Me neither.”

“We’re gonna have so much sex.”

The snort she lets out surprises her—almost as much as what he’s just said. While she doesn’t doubt his statement—because yeah, she definitely misses that—she just can’t help but laugh. “How much have you had to drink?” She asks.

“Just a li’l…” He mumbles, though from his tone she can tell that he’s severely understating how much he’s had to drink. “Like… I’m drunk but like—I’m not… Druuuunk. You know? Like, I’m not, ‘woooooooooo party!!’ drunk.”

Taking her bottom lip between her teeth, she nods, even though he can’t see her. “Yeah. Sure. Uh huh.”

“I’m jus’ sleepy,” he says innocently. “Very, very sleepy.”

“Then you should go to sleep,” She teases, her cheeks starting to hurt. “Get some rest, Tiger,” she says softly.

“I wanna talk to you first, though,” he says, and she can almost hear the pout in his tone. It makes her shake her head fondly. “I miss you. A lot. So much.”

A pang of something tugs at MJ’s heart. “I miss you, too,” she replies earnestly, a lump forming in her throat.

They knew what they were getting into, going long-distance. What, with Peter choosing to stay at Empire State and Michelle choosing Princeton. It wasn’t too long of a drive, by any means, but it was still an hour and a half. It meant not being able to see each other on the busiest days. It meant having to go weeks without seeing each other, without holding or kissing each other. And it was nights like this, long nights after rough study sessions that she wished they could be together, that she could cuddle up to him and squeeze away all of her worries, even if just for a few moments.

She refuses to let this get to her right now, though. Not while they’re on the phone in the middle of the night. Especially not while he’s intoxicated.

“God, I wish you were here,” she hears him breathe into the phone, and she has to crack a smile at that, biting her bottom lip. That tone is one she’s very familiar with. “With me. In my bed.”

She holds back another snort at that. “Yeah?”

“It’d be pretty nice,” he continues. “I just wanna…”

He trails off a bit, and she’s wondering if he’s fallen asleep when the words tumble out of his mouth.

“Just wanna taste you.”

“Peter!” She scolds him lightly, not expecting him to go from zero to a hundred that quickly.

“I love eating you out, though. Oh my God.”

She can feel her face absolutely burning now, hearing his gruff voice right in her ear; she can picture it so clearly, his head buried between her legs, his curls tickling her thighs as he—

“And you know what’d be, like, really cool?”

She has to laugh at that, covering her mouth, unconsciously crossing her legs. “What?”

There’s another bout of silence where he doesn’t say anything. “I’ve been thinking about this so much, oh my God. But like… I really wanna eat you out but… with like you above me? Y’know? There’s a word, or some term for that I know but I can’t think of it…” His voice lowers to a mumble at the end, and she can hear him take a deep breath as he tries to think. His drunken, fuzzy laugh tugs at her chest.

Her lips twist into a knowing smile, her face hot, a gentle ache forming between her thighs as her own breathing starts to slow. “You want me to sit on your face?”

“Fuck, yeah. That’s it. God, Em. You’re so smart.” He hums. “That’d be so great. So hot.”

“I try,” she jokes.

“You always suc—succeed,” he says, pausing as he tries to navigate each syllable. “I just can’t stop thinking about you and like—your thighs just around my head and you—you just grinding yourself on my face. Fuck—”

She almost hates Peter for bringing this up—drunk or not—because now it’s all she’s going to be able to think about for the next few days until they can see each other. Squeezing her legs together to relieve some of the ache, she smiles. “That does sound pretty cool.”

“Right? So cool. So cool.”

“I mean,” she starts slowly, her fingers absently playing with a loose thread on the blanket. “We could probably try that,” she offers with a feigned sense of nonchalance. There’s nothing casual about how she’s feeling right now. This is definitely something she’s going to have to talk to sober Peter about tomorrow. Or the next time she sees him.

Not ignoring this. At all.

“Wait. Fuck—Really?”

And again, she has to hold back the laugh at how enthusiastic he sounds, feeling that dumb, warm fuzzy feeling even when he’s talking about wanting her to sit on his face.

“Yeah,” she replies, a little breathless.

“You’re the best girlfriend ever,” he beams into the phone. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“And not just because you let me eat you out—”

She swears, if he says, ‘eat you out,’ one more time—

“—But also because you’re so smart, and so funny, and so pretty, and just so amazing, and such a good person and I’m so lucky to have you, like, holy shit. I really hit the jackpot.”

She can only manage a short, near-timid response. It’s not a strange occurrence, her boyfriend showering her with praise—this is just a day in her life being with him. But hearing his soft voice at one in the morning—even drunk—somehow just hits differently. “Well, jeez, Pete…”

“I love cuddling with you, and holding you, and kissing you—”

“—And having sex with me?” She asks, teasing.

“—Especially having sex with you. F’course.”

His voice is starting to trail off, syllables melting together as he fights to stay awake. She wants to call him on his shit, to tease him for tapping out after drunkenly trying to initiate phone sex—sure, it might have been doomed from the start, but it could’ve been fun.

Instead, she laughs, listening as his breathing slows. She smiles hearing his gentle snore.

When he texts her the next morning, he doesn’t mention his little fantasy. In fact, he doesn’t seem to remember their late night phone call at all. The night before is all just a fuzzy, blurry haze of too much tequila shots, according to him. And given how he doesn’t remember the exact number of adult beverages he’d had—it has to be somewhere in the late teens with his super-liver and super-kidneys—it’s not all that surprising that his initial good morning text is just a series of the throwing-up emoji.

At least, she would sincerely hope that’s not related to what he’d said last night.

But still, she decides to take this opportunity to both mess with the love of her life, and surprise him—her two favorite things. This decision comes from how clueless he acts when she asks, the series of question marks that follow her question about what exactly he remembers. She doesn’t fill Peter in on what he said, keeping it all to herself. No, the less he actually knows, the better the surprise will actually be. And the fact that he’s apparently been thinking about this for a long time—all without saying something—just makes it all the more sweeter.

And just as she’d thought, she can’t get Peter’s words out of her mind. With another visit coming up in the next two days, it almost makes the wait even worse. Everytime she so much as stops whatever busy-work she’s doing, her brain immediately swerves back into that lane. In class, in the library, on the quad, in her apartment. It’s all too much. It doesn’t matter. Ever since Peter said that, she hasn’t known peace.

It takes everything in her the next night not to bring it up again during their regular skype call.

No, she’s able to get a grip, at least to some degree.

But every sense of self-control goes flying out the window as soon as she’s on his doorstep.

The door to his apartment isn’t even closed before MJ’s on him. She’s been dangling this “surprise” over his head for the past two days—two days too many. Her kisses are greedy, drinking him in as she grabs fistfulls of his shirt and nearly ripping it off of him. And she revels in the feeling—as she always does—of his skin under her touch after so long apart. The feeling of his hands roaming her hips and waist, needy and insistent, fingers digging into her skin is the high she needs, the one she always needs, that she can’t imagine living without.

“So you really don’t remember what you said on the phone the other night?” She asks against his mouth, perched on his lap, his hands gripping her hips as she unconsciously grinds down.

Peter’s eyes squeeze shut at the feeling, his grip tightening as he breathes out a laugh. “No. No, I don’t.”

“Mmm…” A floaty smile tugs at the corner of her lips as they gently press against his in a deceptively chaste kiss. “Shame.”

He pulls back after a moment, something in his eyes saying that he’s already picked up on her tone. “Was it good? Bad?”

Her hands wander up, hanging around his shoulders, one playing with the curls at the nape of his neck as she squints playfully at him. “I’d say good.”

“Oh?” He takes his bottom lip between his teeth as he looks up at her. “Well, cool. Glad I don’t have to worry about saying something stupid.”

“No, you always have to worry about that.”

“Hey!”

With a swift pinch to her sides, she jerks forward, curling into him with a surprised yelp.

“Don’t be rude,” he says through a laugh, still tickling her. “What did I say?”

“Okay—okay, fine!” Michelle pushes him away, unable to hide the humor in her tone. “I’ll tell you. Or—I guess I’ll show you?”

“‘Kay…” Peter looks up at her with wide, curious eyes; especially when she stands up, removing her shirt and underwear and kicking them to the side. His smile only widens when she pushes him back onto the bed, hovering above him, straddling his hips. And because she can’t help herself, her lips immediately capture his, melting into him with a slow, heated kiss. His breathy moan shoots straight down between her thighs, and she presses against him in an effort to relieve some of the pressure.

There’s a cheeky grin on his face when he pulls back as one of his hands wanders down to roughly knead her ass. “You gonna tell me what I said?”

With another quick kiss to his lips, she sits up. “Well, you were absolutely wasted.”

“Yeah…”

“And you were rambling on and on about how much you missed me, how much you loved me, how much you liked kissing me.” Despite her apparent confidence, her chest and cheeks are burning, her breath catching as she speaks.

“Checks out.” A lop-sided grin tugs at the corner of his mouth.

“And how much you liked eating me out? Apparently?” She just barely makes that out, her heart hammering in her throat, the heat in her center becoming almost unbearable.

Peter closes his eyes, nodding solemnly. “Yes. Yup. I do.” He cracks another smile as he playfully squeezes her hips. “Flavortown is my favorite place.”

“No—” She gently slaps his bare chest, struggling to bite back her own grin. “Stop that.”

Her hand smooths over his pec, down to his abs, smirking in delight as his muscles twitch under her touch.

“Sorry.” He winks. “Continue.”

“Well—” Michelle speaks slowly, starting to move herself up on him. “—You said you wanted to try something. Related. To that.”

His eyebrows raise curiously, his forehead wrinkling. “Yeah?” He asks, tilting his head.

“Yeah. Something about me sitting on your face?”

The way his eyes widen is something she can’t help but find adorable—so much so, she wishes she could take a picture of it. He breathes out a surprised—somewhat horny—laugh. He nods, giving a casual frown.

“So does that sound like something you’d say?” Michelle asks, her voice low. “Is that something you want?”

Peter’s hands wander from her hips, ghosting along her sides, his thumbs caressing the undersides of her breasts, and back down again, and when he looks up at her, there’s something in his eyes that causes her stomach to flip in the best way possible.

But then, of course, he’s Peter.

“MJ, you’ll be glad to know. Just for this moment—”

And he has to open his mouth.

“—I saved the best seat in the house for you.”

He emphasizes his point, patting his mouth with two fingers.

She has to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling, her lips twisting as she glares at him. “Okay. No. I’m done. Bye,” she says, struggling not to laugh as she starts to climb off of him.

“Nooooooo—” Peter immediately keeps her in place, his hands on her hips. “—Please.”

“I’m so tired of you!” She laughs.

“Oh?” Peter tilts his head. “If you’re tired, why don’t you—” Another pat to his face. “—Take a seat?”

Only he can make her eyes roll in the back of her head in more than one way. “Shut up.”

There’s stupid, lopsided little grin on his face—full of too much mischief—as looks up at her, challenging. “Why don’t you make me?”

And she could swear that the wind’s been knocked out of her at that moment, the corner of her lips twitching upward into a surprised smile.

He scoots them back, close enough that she can hang on to the headboard—of which he tells her she’ll definitely need to do.

She almost smacks him again.

The air around her crackles with electricity as she slowly climbs up his chest, his hands on her thighs guiding her as she moves to straddle his face. Her own hands steady herself on the headboard, but she doesn’t look down until she’s in place, because, to be frank, it’s a lot to take in. Sure, she’s seen his face between her thighs plenty of times—it’s become one of her favorite sights in the world—but this, being above him, his mouth and nose covered by her as their eyes meet causes a heady rush to flare in her chest. There’s something about the way he grips her legs, his fingers digging into her thighs as he pulls her down.

It’s gentle at first, the deceptively chaste kisses he plants along her center, his eyes fluttering closed as he breathes her in. Already, he’s barely touched her and she feels seconds from falling apart, her face burning as his gaze flits up to meet hers. His lips ghost around her clit, never quite touching where she wants, and she can feel him smile against her as she unconsciously tries to grind herself onto him. He holds her still, looking up at her with a raised, amused brow, before licking a long stripe up her center.

The breathy moan he releases as he tastes her sends her head thrown back, and he smiles again as she sucks in a breath at the vibration, her grip on the headboard tightening. A shuddering sigh slips past her lips as his tongue swirls her arousal around, dipping down to the wetness at her entrance, his nose brushing against her clit.

It’s the whine that leaves her lips that has him desperately pulling her closer, pressing her to him with such need, such hunger, such insistence; as if she’s oxygen. He moans without abandon into her cunt, his hard sucking on her clit causing a jolt of electricity to shoot up her spine, her toes to curl into the sheets.

“Fuck, Peter—” She breathes, hanging her head as she struggles to hold herself upright on the headboard.

He only hums, clearly in enthusiastic agreement, holding her flush against him, mouth hot and wet as he laps fervently at her heat, his fingers massaging her thighs, drifting to her hips and squeezing, before finally coming to the curve of her ass.

She’s uncharacteristically shy at first, the tentative rocking of her hips coming in the heat of the moment. The muscles in her thighs twitch when he flattens his tongue and guides her, grinding her against him, his grip on her turning his knuckles white.

It’s always intoxicating, feeling him everywhere, his soft lips as they suck her clit, then his tongue as it spreads her arousal, as it starts fucking into her so well. A moan rips through her, her wet breath catching as he wraps a hand around to flick at her swollen clit. The warmth pooled in her lower stomach swells, melting, radiating through her legs to the tips of her toes, up to her chest.

One of her hands falls from the headboard, snapping to his head, fingers carding through his curls for purchase, her chest heaving as fucks her with his tongue. A throaty moans escapes him as she jerks him closer, rutting herself against his face as she arches her back.

She’s so close. Her thighs squeeze his head, the coil within her tightening and tightening, and—in an instant—there’s the invasive thought that he might not be able to breath. But when she tries to loosen up, when she starts to pull just an inch away, he reels her right back, more insistent, his hands on her hips, weighing her down.

“So fucking good, MJ,” he praises filthily into her cunt, emphasizing his point with a hard slap to her ass.

Her back straightens, rigid as she chokes on a gasp, the lewd sounds of his needy grunts, his sloppy kisses, her arousal—how wet she is on his lips and tongue—cause her body to burn, to set her skin alight, and she almost curses the both of them for not doing this sooner.

It’s addictive, dangerously so, as she crumples forward against the headboard, her fist still in tangled in his hair, her muscles tightening, burning. This time, she doesn’t stop herself as her thighs close around his head, squeezing with a force that only eggs him on, his mouth urgent as it works her over.

“That’s it, baby—” His voice is muffled in her heat, drowned by his ministrations.

She comes with a broken whine, panting with want as she feels herself spasming, a floaty, wavy smile pulling at her lips as Peter laps her through her orgasm.

But even as she comes down from her first high, Peter—never one for backing down—doesn’t seem ready to quit. When she pulls up again, he yanks her back, his gaze pleading as he looks up at her, silently begging her not to move. It’s so soon after, though, and his mouth still so hot on her sensitive clit sends a shock through her, her hips desperately rocking against his face—the feeling both too much and not enough.

Her second orgasm takes her by surprise, ripping through her as he sucks harshly on her clit. It’s an out-of-body experience—cliche as it sounds; she swears her vision goes out for more than a second, and she wonders if she’s somehow accidentally pulled a chunk of his hair out with how hard she was gripping. It takes more than a moment to come back to reality, her hips bucking as Peter still laps languidly at her cunt, flicking slowly at her clit, as if he still hasn’t had his fill. It’s almost as if he’s making a show of it, the moans coming from his lips, the vibrations of them against hers, somehow making her even wetter.

He pulls back slightly, and her mouth and throat goes dry seeing his nose, mouth, and chin slick and glistening with her. His lips puffy and pink, hair wild, looking completely fucked out. “You think you got a third?” He asks with a gentle pat to the curve of her hips.

And it’s his voice that makes her have to keep her eyes from rolling back; at least an octave lower, husky.

But it’s the adoration in his eyes that makes her heart swell.

Taking a shuddering breath, she nods. “Yeah,” she replies, biting her lip through a smile. “Please.”

He grins back up at her, scooting down on the bed a bit, pulling her with him. It gives her enough room to bend forward, now bracing herself on the mattress. His warm breath fans over her soaked cunt, and it takes everything in her not to squeeze her legs together again. His hands smooth over her skin, kneading the flesh of her ass as he pulls her down again. And he takes a moment to place another tender kiss on her sensitive clit—a gesture and touch that causes her hips to jolt—before taking hold of her and roughly pulling her down again.

This time, he’s quick to wrap his lips around her clit, sucking and swirling his tongue over the sensitive bundle of nerves, yet still savoring her. Her choked moan is cut off as one of his hands coils around behind her, swiping his fingers through her wetness, coating themselves in her arousal.

How Peter can get these sounds out of her, she thanks whatever higher power there is for that. The breathless whine the tumbles from her lips as her jaw goes slack, her body slumping further as he starts to pump two fingers into her, curling just so that she can’t help but chant his name like a prayer, over and over into the pillow.

It’s not long before she’s coming all over his fingers, his mouth, feeling herself fluttering around him as she desperately grinds down. For a moment, she almost forgets where she is, smiling and mumbling dreamily, not even sure what she’s saying as Peter moves out from under her. She feels his lips on her back as he kisses his way up her spine, his lips soft and gentle, full of love, on her skin.

When he reaches her face, his hand moves to cup her cheek as he lays beside her, his thumb smoothing over her skin.

She blearily looks at him, dazed, body still thrumming, buzzing from her third orgasm.

“Hey,” he says, his smile lop-sided, dopey; an expression so soft coming from someone doing such filthy things moments before.

Peter.

And MJ hums, closing her eyes again as he pulls her close, capturing her lips with his in a searing kiss. Another moan escapes her as she tastes herself on his mouth, her tongue slipping past his lips, drinking him in.

When he pulls back again, he can’t help but bite his lip. “How was that?” he asks, though from the smirk on his face, he seems to already know the answer.

Still breathless, MJ grins, shrugging as she starts to sit up. “It was alright.”

“Woooooow.” His jaw drops in mock-offense as he follows. “Three times was alright?”

“I think we’ll have to do it again,” she teases. “Just so I can really form an opinion. You know?”

“Oh, of course,” he murmurs, looking up at her with half-lidded eyes, his hands migrating to her hips, ready to pull her into his lap.

But she stops him, her eyes tinted with mischief as she glances between his face and the outline of his painfully hard cock straining against his boxer briefs.

“Is this seat taken?”

#spideychelle #thotumn 2020 #the return of flavortown #lmao #rated: e #petermj #the day 6 and 9 thing was not planned i swear dkfjslajfdak

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meltwonu · 4 years

Text

| good in bed | [chapter 3]

pairing; non-idol!chan x reader

this chapter’s notes; oral(both receiving), face riding, minor hair pulling 😳and some minor angst🥴 we are almost at the finish line for this mini-series~ thank you for everyone who’s been interested in it~ 💕💕💕💕

chapters; 1 - 2 - 3 - x

“Don’t you trust me?”

“Chan the last time you said that, Seokmin had to get stitches.”

Chan rolls his eyes at you, hands on the wheel of his car. He hadn’t said exactly where he was taking you for your little picnic because, as he said, “it was a surprise” so you had hesitantly got into his car when he had picked you up about 30 minutes ago.

“Seokmin-hyung only had to get stitches because he thought belly-flopping onto the beer pong table was a good idea and he cracked his skull open.”

“Yeah, but you were the one who gave him that suggestion!”

“I said it’d be funny! I didn’t know we were gonna have to take him to the urgent care!”

You laugh along with him, glad that whatever weird mood Chan was in the last time you’d seen him seemed to be gone. It was still weird to you that he’d left without saying anything but you’d figured it was just something really important that he had to take care of.

The two of you had kept talking throughout the entire car ride, watching as the sun slowly set along the horizon. You were slowly exiting the city from what you could tell; the skyscrapers and highrises becoming small in the rear view mirror. It was Chan’s idea to have a picnic closer to sunset to which you had agreed to, packing a warm blanket for when the sun eventually went down.

“As long as neither of us end up in urgent care again, I really don’t care where you take me, Chan.”

“See, now, you can’t say shit like that cause we’ll end up at a clown convention and then you’re gonna be really pissed.”

The whole thing feels… romantic to say the least.

Chan takes you to an area with grassy hills and close to little city lights to obstruct your views of the sky. “I figured we can do some star-gazing out here later which is why I suggested we go closer to sunset.”

“Oh… Chan, that’s--”

“Soonyoung-hyung’s really been on my ass lately cause I fucked up at practice a few times so I was thinkin’ like, ‘we need to get away from the city’, you know?”

You nod, pushing your thoughts away as you help him set up. He had even brought some fake candles and some wine to help set the mood. And although neither of you had said it was a date, it definitely feels like one. Chan holds your hand, feeds you first and even wraps a blanket around you once he notices you shivering a little bit.

“Can I ask you a question?” Chan peers up at you after taking a bite of his food. “Yeah?”

“This is cute and all but… we won’t get… like, ‘hills have eyes’ crazies out here will we?” He chokes on his food, eyes as wide as saucers at your question as he rushes to swallow before he replies.

“No! I mean, I don’t think so? There’s not really a yelp page for open grassy hills outside the city though.”

“Okay I just…”

“Are you scared?”

“Not really? Just… curious. There’s like nobody out here except for us and a few houses that we passed, so, y’know.”

“Aww, is the baby scared? I’ll protect you!” Chan sends you a killer smile that sends your heart racing almost immediately. You smile back, averting your eyes quickly as you take in the fresh air. There was still the tiniest bit of sunlight left, your eyes sliding shut as you enjoy the last bit of warmth before the cool night breeze took over.

Chan watches you, committing the image of you glowing in the sunset to memory. “Wow…”

“Hmm?”

“Nothing, you’re just… beautiful is all. Like, the way the sun is hitting you right now makes you look like a goddess.”

Your brain goes haywire momentarily, rebooting as you tuck a stray hair behind your ear.

“Don’t say stuff like that!”

“Why not? Haven’t I said weirder things in bed?” You bite the inside of your cheek. Yeah, he’d said really possessive things and even jealous things in bed but the two of you were in a mood then. This time there was nothing prompting him to say any of that and it was really fucking with your brain. “Yeah I… guess.” Taking a sip of your cup of wine, you swallow down your feelings as best as you can.

The two of you fall into a comfortable silence, eating the food that Chan had packed and enjoying each other’s company until the sun had gone down completely. You take notice of the stars, watching them as you tug the blanket around yourself tighter. “Cold?”

“A little bit…” He finishes off his food, tidying up and putting the containers away in the bag he’d brought before filling his and your cup of wine. You wonder what he’s doing when he gets up from across you and places his cup next to yours on the blanket. But he slots himself behind you, caging you in between his legs and he wraps his arms around you to keep you warm.

“Is this okay?”

“Y-yeah…”

You hate the way Chan gets you to blush so easily. And you hate the way your crush on him grows every single time. There was definitely a fine line between being friends with benefits and actually dating Chan that you felt like had already gotten crossed a long time ago. But, simultaneously, you also didn’t know how Chan felt at all. You knew Chan was usually very vocal about his feelings and the two of you had even confided in each other through relationships and breakups. Hell, even one night stands were a topic of conversation with him on multiple occasions. But this was just weird to you now.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

“Mm?”

“You’ve had this… faraway look in your eyes today, that’s all. Like, you laugh at my jokes ‘n stuff but then you look kinda sad after.” Chan’s voice is soft and warm; his lips kissing the crown of your head before he nuzzles into your neck. “You can tell me anything you know. It’s always a judgement free zone when you’re with me.”

“I know, Chan. Sorry, just… life’s been kinda weird lately I guess. But I’m not sure I’m ready to talk about it yet? You know what I mean?”

Chan hums, kissing the column of your neck. “Yeah, I feel you. But you wanna know somethin’?”

“Sure?”

“Wouldn’t it be romantic to fuck under the stars?” There was the word. Romantic.

“I mean… yeah?”

“That’s also kinda why I took you out here, I thought maybe we could? The atmosphere is nice and there’s nobody really around so…” Fuck it.

“Fu--Fuck, Chan…”

You tangle your hands into his hair, grinding down onto his face. You weren’t sure if face-riding was considered romantic but you also didn’t really care the second Chan’s tongue dips into your pussy. His hands grip your thighs, keeping you in place as his tongue licks stripes from your clit to your hole, licking up your wetness. You don’t really know how long it’s been since he started or if anyone can hear you out in the open but if there’s one thing, you’re definitely glad you wore clothes that were easy to get out of.

“God, your mouth is so good!” You untangle a hand, reaching back and gliding it down his torso until it rests over his cock straining against his jeans. You squeeze him through the material as he moans against your folds, drawing circles on your clit in harsh motions as his own hips thrust up into your palm. You can feel your orgasm already building; grinding down onto Chan’s tongue harder. The two of you continue like that for a little while longer until Chan taps on your thigh.

Thinking something is wrong, you lift yourself off of him, watching as he licks your wetness from his lips.

“I could eat you out for hours, but if you’re gonna cum, it’s gonna be on my dick.” You nod, helping him strip down until he’s as bare as you are. “Chan if we get in trouble for this…”

“We won’t! I promise. There’s nobody around here for at least half a mile or something.”

You take his word for it, pushing him down onto the blanket. He watches as you slot yourself between his legs, wrapping a hand around his cock and smearing the precum all over the head and shaft. You slowly lean in, kitten licking at his cock before you wrap your lips around him.

“Ugh, fuck!”

This time it’s Chan that tangles a hand through your hair, guiding your mouth down onto his cock slowly. He resists the urge to fuck your throat open, deep breaths and groans on his lips as he does so. You let him control the pace, bobbing your head up and down with his guidance.

There’s a few times when you deep throat him where you feel his soft and romantic side chipping away slowly; the hand tangled in your hair gripping tighter as he holds you on his cock. And it happens a few more times before Chan completely pulls you off of him by your hair, a bead of sweat trickling down his temple.

“You’re such a little minx, did you know that?”

You smile up at him, a thread of spit still linking your lips to his cock. “You’re the one who suggested we have sex out here so I mean...” There’s a chuckle on his lips as he lets go of your hair, smoothing it back down before he lays on his back again. “Wanna ride me?”

“Okay.”

You take a moment to shimmy on top of him; his hands immediately finding purchase on your hips. He helps guide you, watching as you position yourself over his cock. You sink down on him slowly at first, getting about a third of the way before you think ‘screw it’ and sheath him completely inside of you.

It knocks the breath out of Chan in an instant as you giggle above him. “Jesus, slow down!”

“Why?”

“I’m tryna enjoy the mood here! And you look pretty sitting on my dick like this. The stars around you… If you looked pretty in the sunlight earlier, now you just look ethereal with the stars surrounding you and basking you in the moonlight.”

You hate it here. You really really do.

“Oh… thanks” He nods up at you, a cute smile on his face. “You don’t have to thank me for that.”

Choosing to ignore his last statement, you start riding him, alternating between swiveling your hips and grinding down onto him. The curve of his cock inside of you is enough to hit your g-spot; whines spilling from your lips as you chase your high.

Chan can tell when you start to get a bit tired as he plants his feet firmly onto the ground and thrusts up into you.“Ugh, Chan…”

He pauses for a second, his hands on your hips caressing your skin. “Something wrong?”

“No, just… you feel really nice…”

“You too, baby.”

You brace yourself on his torso as you ride him, the sound of your moans mix with his in the quiet moonlight.

Lifting your hands off of his torso, you snake your left hand up your torso, playing with your breasts and pinching your nipples while your other hand slides down to rub at your clit. The sensations have your toes curling and whimpering Chan’s name. He can feel the way you tighten up around his cock, finding it harder to thrust up into you. “Fuck, you’re so close, baby, I can feel you getting so tight.”

“Y-yeah...”

“Wanna cum together?”

“Mmhmm...” Chan helps guide your hips, licking his lips while he watches you touch yourself. “You’re so pretty... Lemme see you cum, baby.” He whispers words of praise, urging you to cum as his hands continue to caress your skin. You grind down onto him harder when you feel the tension in your lower abdomen about to snap. And when you cum on his cock, he follows suit, your name spilling from his lips the entire time the two of your ride out your orgasms.

And when you start to come down from your high, you can’t help but slump forward onto his chest, his arms wrapping around you protectively as you catch your breath.

“Fuck, baby, that was... intense.”

The two of you stay in that position a while longer; Chan admiring the stars above you as you enjoy his warmth and listen to his heartbeat. There’s words on your tongue you want to say but you keep it to yourself for now.

“This is nice and romantic and all, but d’you think we should get going?”

His voice breaks you out of your thoughts, nodding slightly against his chest.

It takes you two a while to clean up and get dressed, lugging all of your things back to his car. Chan doesn’t say a word to you the entire time, and you don’t really make an effort to either.

He opens your side of the car, letting you in before he slides into the driver’s seat and starts the ride home. It’s pleasant for most of the ride back; the radio filling up most of the silence until you realize that the two of you are almost back to your place. And the thoughts on your mind from earlier come back at full force.

“Hey, Chan?”

“Yeah?”

“What are we?” He turns onto the street where your complex is, hands tightening around the wheel unbeknownst to you. There’s an awkward silence even when the car stops in front of your place, Chan turning off the gas as he sits in his seat, unsure of what to say.

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“I... I don’t know how I feel right now. I don’t know what’s right...”

“Okay... I understand. That’s fine.”

You lay in bed tossing and turning all night regardless. You knew you’d probably have to stop this soon, you just didn’t know when. And yes, while you liked Chan, he still seemed confused and unsure if he wanted to take this to a different level or if he wanted to stay as friends with benefits. You could respect that. There was no real reason to be mad at Chan so you tried to not be.

There was a fine line that the two of you knew you’d crossed, that was obvious. And it was only fair that the two of you were most likely equally as confused as the other so you try to let it go, telling yourself you’ll try to clear the air with him tomorrow or something, if he doesn’t do it first. You wanted him to say something but you, too, weren’t really saying much. The two of you were both skirting around the topic so there was really nobody to blame. You shrug in bed, letting all your feelings go in hopes of finally getting some sleep.

But your phone rings next to you in the midst of your thoughts, tired eyes blinded by the sudden light as you check to see who it is.

You feel yourself heating up, a blush forming on your cheeks as you stare at your phone screen. You didn’t want to push him for more, but damn, he’d definitely gotten your attention now.

#gib!chan #dino smut #seventeen smut #svt smut #dino scenarios #dino imagines #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #svt scenarios #svt imagines #lee chan #dino

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anika-ann · 4 years

Text

Errare Humanum Est - Pt.22

What Happens After 2 AM... Doesn’t Hate To Be a Disaster

Type: series, soulmate AU series (part 1, part 2) x Supernatural

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader Word count: 4420

Summary: Celebrations are in order! And when it comes to the Avengers, it’s always ‘the more the merrier’.

Warnings: swearing, brief angst, nightmares, guilt trips, attempt at humour, fluff

Story masterlist ༻༺༻༺༻ღ༺༻༺༻༺

Tony took off, too eager to try and get in touch with his friend via intergalactical channel. You almost felt sorry for not witnessing it, but as the biggest excitement tuned down, everyone once more invested in their own business, you and Steve were the only ones left in the kitchen – and were approached by Natasha.

If you didn’t know better, you’d say the spy even looked shy in her supposedly casual stance.

“Hey, uhm… you guys mind if I ask someone to tag along?” she threw to the open as if it wasn’t a big deal. Her plan didn’t work, because you nearly fell off of the stool with how quickly you spun to her fully.

One corner of her lips twitched at your clumsiness, but then she casted her gaze down, only making your eyebrow rise.

“Oh?”

“It’s just… a friend.”

Riiight. She was so full of shit. A teasing smile slowly spread on your face and you exchanged a meaningful wordless conversation with Steve who had insisted on him cleaning up.

“A friend, you say?” you pried, unable to hide the suggestive tone – and not even trying. She shrugged it off, clearly downplaying it once again.

“For now. A little flirting here and there maybe…”

She fooled no one, but you were in too much of a light mood to torture her and actually call her out on the fact that unless she was thinking about getting serious, she wouldn’t have wanted to introduce the mystery person to the team.

“Good for you, Natasha,” you noted instead and you might have imagined it only, but her ‘casual stance’ eased for real. “As for me, I’m all for it. I might be glad to take some attention off me.”

“And vice versa,” she pointed out and it dawned to you just how sneaky her planning was. It shouldn’t surprise you – she was a spy after all and one brilliant woman to begin with.

“Smart. I’d love to meet them.”

“I’m sure he will be too. Thanks. Uhm… Steve?” she hummed in his direction, just to make sure he was alright with it too.

The man in question raised his hands as if he wanted to say it was not his decision to make – and sent a spray of tiny drops of water your general direction with that movement. You snorted at that unattractively.

“I think it’s safe to say it’s her party, so it’s her call,” he stated with a grin and dried his hands.

“Then I say yes, of course he can come, Nat-- I meant-“ not Nat. You wanted to bit your cheek at the silly slip, probably caused by hearing the name so often, but the redhead smirked.

“Nat’s fine. I’m still honoured, by the way. Naming yourself after me...”

“Would have done it again in a heartbeat,” you reassured her with a matching smirk, relieved. She winked at you and at Steve, spinning on her heels and walking away. It was the spur of the moment what you blurted out before she could leave. “And Nat? He’s a really lucky guy. I hope he knows that.”

“Thanks,” she threw over her shoulder almost carelessly, but once again, you knew better. Natasha Romanoff felt like any other human being, only she didn’t show it as often as you for instance.

You glanced at Steve as he circled the bar and you exchanged a brief smile with him. You simply couldn’t stop smiling today. You couldn’t say you minded.

Steve’s fingers found your face and hair, caressing softly and his lips brushed yours. It seemed he couldn’t stop touching you today. Once again, you couldn’t say you minded.

༻༺༻༺༻ღ༺༻༺༻༺

You were purposely postponing the inevitable question of what was coming next; and Steve didn’t push you. It was as if the two of you had made a deal about working out worries and obstacles later, except you hadn’t.

Chances were that Steve was avoiding the topic, because there was so much to go over and you couldn’t quite blame him. Should you go public with your resurrection? Or was it safer and overall better to keep you hidden? Perhaps you should tell at least your family and friends? What about you having a job – you couldn’t exactly sit around all days long doing nothing. The paperwork if you officially came back. The scandal. Were you even allowed to tell anyone about such thing as coming back from the dead?

Oh yeah, you were very much happy that Steve was ignoring the obvious problems in making as expertly as you were.

So, you idled. You cuddled, you watched movies, stole kisses, you spied on him while he trained with his teammates (after you spent about twenty minutes on a treadmill and decided you had to either focus on running or on ogling Steve, choosing the latter, obviously) and momentarily was searching for recipe for the best cookies, because why the hell not bake when having the time on your hands.

Relaxing for the whole day, you did not expect the sudden burst of thunderclap and lightning that followed. You jumped in your seat nearly falling off of the bar stool for the second time that day and shot Steve, who was sitting on a couch with an actual cookbook, a puzzled look.

He sighed when Tony passed the room, a grin plastered on his face.

Right. Calling Thor. God of thunder. Apparently, it worked.

“Brother Anthony. Where is the fight?” the thunderous voice demanded from the hall, your chest vibrating with the decibels of it.

“There’s no fight,” Tony responded light-heartedly. “Party is in order.”

“A party?”

“Yep,” Tony hummed, clearly amused by the shock he had caused his friend.

“You’re… you’re doing well then?” the god lowered his voice a fraction, but still was loud enough for you to hear him clearly despite the pair not being in the room with you. “How is the Captain? I requested of Heimdall to watch over him, but Loki orchestrated an escape from his prison, so I was too preoccupied to visit sooner.”

Oh. Oh. Even Thor knew just how harsh life had been to Steve lately. Also, you forgot how strangely he spoke – orchestrated, who did ever say the word orchestrated in a casual converstion?

You spared a glance at the Steve, not surprised he didn’t meet your gaze, truly engrossed in the book all of sudden. His skin paled a little, besides his ears that turned an uncomfortable shade of red as if they were on fire.

You bit your lip and decided to say nothing. What was there to say, really? He had been mourning; you wouldn’t exactly expect to find out he had been playing the welcome committee during Thor’s last visit, whenever that had been.

“See for yourself, Point Break.”

You rolled your eyes at Tony’s dramatics, and watched the God of Thunder himself, the walking rock he was, basically tiptoe into the room, eyes instantly focused on Steve. You remained graciously unnoticed. It was almost as endearing as hilarious.

Steve lowered his book (laying it down without bothering to mark the page he had been ‘reading’, while avoiding your gaze really) and stood up, offering a short hug to the God, who was adorably perplexed at such behaviour.

“Hello, Thor. It’s good to see you,” Steve welcomed him warmly, lightly patting his friend on his back. Tony watched amusedly as the men retreated, one of them utterly confused, shooting him a not-so-subtle puzzled look.

“Brother Steven, you-- look well! I am pleased to see that you are feeling better…”

“Use that famous beyond-eyes eyes of yours, Thor,” Tony snorted in laughter, gesturing vaguely around his own face. “I imagine you’ll be surprised at what you’ll see.”

To your surprise, Thor actually examined Steve with an absent gaze, blinking after few seconds, understanding mixing with confusion on his face now.

“Oh… you are… bonded,” he let out in disbelief, quickly switching to warmer voice. And nope, he still hadn’t noticed you. The corner of your lips twitched. “I am happy for you, brother. I could sense your sorrow for your soulmate during my last visit here without taking as much as a glance at you. You deserve another soulmate, one that can make your heart equally happy. I hope you do not feel unfaithful for you love again – I believe you still carry your love for your past partner in your heart and her soul knows that even in afterlife.”

Steve smiled at him, sad tones in the otherwise wide smile. “More than you know, Thor. But thank you. Would you like to meet her? She’s why we are celebrating and why we invited you to join us.”

“Of course. I’d be honoured to meet your lady-“

“You can,” you made your presence known at last, causing the God to snap his head to you at instant. You offered a grin and a tiny wave. “Hey, Thor. Long time, no see.”

The poor Asgardian stared at you incredulously, his eyes wider than Steve’s and Tony’s smiles. Then he shook his head, joining all of you in the lifted spirits.

“…now I understand why Heimdall had that secretive smile on his face when I was leaving… my lady! I am delighted to see you alive!”

He crossed the room in swift strides, nearly making you back out with how fierce he looked at the moment. But he wouldn’t punch you, right?

Nope, he wouldn’t.

Instead, he pulled you into his strong arms, lifting you a foot above the ground, squeezing you in a bone-crushing hug that brushed your tender ribs. You were so surprised you didn’t even hiss in pain. He released you as quickly as he embraced you, greeting you with his typical kiss on the back of your hand. Was there a hint of red in his cheeks as if he was embarrassed at the open display of friendly affection that preceded his gentleman’s manners?

You shook off the thought quickly, dropping a little curtsy to entertain your company. You met Steve’s eyes behind Thor’s enormous shoulder and he squinted at you playfully as if he was warning you to stop what could be considered flirtation. You winked at him, earning a gape from him and a chuckle from Tony.

“But… how?” Thor’s voice brought your attention back to him and you saw nothing but wonder on his face. “I can see your spirit, it is still glowing magnificently, clear of dark forces that could have tried to bring you back to life despite the natural order. This must have happened differently… how?”

“It’s a long story, Thor. Can you stay?” you asked hopefully, pleased by the warmth in his eyes when he nodded.

“To celebrate your return, the reunion of soulmates with one of the strongest bonds I have ever had the chance to witness? ...with pleasure, my lady.”

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Asking Thor to join was a good plan. The Avengers had introduced some of the board games they knew to him, highly amused by his frustration during monopoly; to be fair, everyone but Tony was frustrated, so no one was mad when the game ended; with the billionaire’s victory, naturally. But it wasn’t just that; he also got Steve tipsy thanks to some special liquor that was meant for ‘no mere mortals’ and Steve with his cheeks red and a smile more relaxed than you had ever witnessed was a sight to behold.

Also, Thor wasn’t the only special guest. Sam had joined you; Natasha’s special friend. It was very much clear he was special and not only because of their body language. He proved to be worthy of being her man by surviving the grilling he was put through; you didn’t blame Natasha that she had chosen this occasion of all to introduce him, because naturally, there were enough distractions… like you coming back from dead… and such.

You came to like Sam immediately. He was another person to join your verbal combat with Clint and Tony, he was funny, but somehow knowing the limits of everyone despite barely meeting them and he was another person who was giving away the friendly vibe that was impossible not to love. He was an amazing match to Natasha, who was used to hiding her feelings, making her crawl from her tough shell. Match made in Heaven. He was a therapist, a former soldier and apparently their encounter was a story they wouldn’t share until they were completely trashed. You couldn’t wait.

The family-feels-filled party was officially ending at two a.m. You were dead on your feet by then, which resulted in Steve nearly carrying you to your common suite, earning a streak of ‘awww’ that registered even in your sleepy brain. You had no care in the world, curling in Steve’s embrace on the bed and falling asleep as soon as you felt his arms relax around you.

You didn’t quite count on the retelling your story about what preceded the re-encounter with your soulmate to cause your dreams going off rails; again. Snapping your eyes into the dark, your heart was hammering in your ribcage, the remnants of a nightmare slowly leaving your mind. Sparing once glance at Steve’s fast asleep face, you carefully wiggled away and went to brush your teeth. Instantly recognizing you wouldn’t fall asleep any time soon, you decided to wander the Tower in your pyjama, a thin sweater over your shoulders.

Maybe a tea would make you good, calm your restless brain?

Heading for the kitchen and common area, you didn’t expect to find the light on; and you sure as hell didn’t expect Samuel Wilson being the person occupying it.

“Hey,” he greeted you in low voice and a tired smile on his own. “Can’t sleep?”

You couldn’t help the sigh that was drawn to your lips. “Nope. I didn’t want to wake up Steve, he could use a few hours extra, not less.”

“I bet,” the man hummed thoughtfully, motioning for you to sit in a kind offer. You shook your head and gestured towards the kettle.

“Tea?”

“Nah. Thanks.”

You went to make a cup for yourself only then, keeping the talk up. “What about you?”

“Nat’s in the shower. Woke me up.”

“Then what are you doing here?” you teased him with a chuckle and his face scrunched as if he tasted lemon and was not expecting the taste.

“Nightmares are kind of a moodkiller.”

“Ah,” escaped your lips intelligently as you sat beside him, placing the tea on the table. Honestly, you weren’t surprised at how brusque he was after the evening you spent together, but at the same time, you were – a little. You offered him a half smile. “She looks happy though. You do that.”

He smiled a tiny smile back, but his crinkling eyes said more than the curl of his lips. “I hope so, ‘cause I’m trying. Nat’s amazing. She could have anyone, but deserves the best. For some reason, the Universe seems to think it’s me.”

“Yeah, I know the feeling,“ you hummed, recalling the feeling way too clearly. Sam’s eyes bulged then, guilt and shock and only then you realized what he said. Oh. Oh. The Universe. Natasha was Sam’s soulmate. Now you understood why they ended up not sharing their meet-cute yet. “Your secret is safe with me, just in case you wonder. And I can see the two of you being soulmates. I mean… at least you used to be a soldier, like her. And you still help people.”

You could feel his relief rolling off in waves. It was quite funny how afraid he was, probably having been promised death delivered by Black Widow if he shared. Then, his eyes turned curious, gentle brown wondering.

“You’re still self-conscious about your soulmate?”

“No!” you blurted out automatically, hesitating when his eyebrow rose, calling you out on your bullshit without words. You huffed. “Yes? I mean… no. It’s just-- sometimes… I guess it was just being confronted with it again when I met him for the second time… like, second time, the first time. It kinda hit me again. That our worlds are so different, mine’s so… plain and normal., while his… well.”

Getting it out felt good, but your admission sent the room into heavy silence, soaking through your skin, making you question whether you had told him too much. Why did you even say that? To Sam, of all people? You had just met him tonight!

You must have scared him off. Freaked him out. Now he was about to leave and tell on you and he would never talk to you-

“Did Natasha tell you what kind of therapy I do?” he asked kindly instead, causing you to release the breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

You shook your head, intrigued, happy to learn more about him and ignore the silly overshare slip you had managed.

“Soulmates,” he said simply, your heart stopping at the single word. What? … like… what exactly was he doing? Huh? “I deal with people who lost their soulmates. And I spent a good portion of time digging into relationships, soulmates-related or not… and I can tell you that sometimes when people are exactly the same, they are a disaster in making.”

Well. That was loop that returned to your case faster than expected. “What… uhm, what do you mean?”

“I mean that I’m not in the battlefield anymore, but maybe… I could be good for Nat. Grounding. Just like you can be good for Steve, be exactly what he needs,” he explained, his eyes locked with yours, not releasing you; yet, you didn’t feel trapped. Damn, he was good. “Do you feel that you two… work?”

You blinked at the sudden stupid question. “Of course I do.”

He grinned victoriously and you realized you just proved his point, so you chuckled self-depreciatingly.

“That’s because it’s not always about being the same in every aspect of your lives. It’s not about similarity – it’s about completion. About two people who simply fit. From what I saw so far, from what you told me, you two fit. That’s what’s important.”

Yeah, it seemed the Universe’s choices in soulmates were pretty swell; Sam was one of the kindest and most amiable people you had ever met and Natasha deserved nothing less.

But now, it wasn’t about Nat and Sam; no, Sam had spoken to you about this for your benefit. You smiled at him softly, reaching out and squeezing his hand for a short second. He returned the courtesy, letting your mouth speak your mind.

“Thank you. I… I think you two do as well. I guess it was just heavy dreams and everything that happened…” you shrugged, already feeling calmer. You couldn’t recall what particular dream was making you lose sleep tonight, but it left you with a strange feeling in your stomach that now seemed to resolve into nothing.

Sam shrugged, huffing with an undertone of bitterness that quickly disappeared.

“Well, we sit here at four a.m. Both of us. Every single person in this building has shit to deal with. You’ve been blown up – you came back from death, much like Steve did, in a way. He’s seen you die on top of that. Nat’s past is a case of its own and… and I saw my soulmate fall from the sky and for some reason I’m blessed with another… I’m just a firm believer in handling that kind of things together, that’s why I lead group sessions rather than individual ones.”

Your lips parted at his admission. He had lost his soulmate? For real? And he found the strength to deal and to help others? Yeah, Nat definitely deserved this guy. You just hoped neither of them would have to go through losing one another – in battlefield or anywhere else.

“Nat… is your second?” you pried carefully, only making certain.

Judging by how absent his gaze grow for few moments, she was.

“Yeah.”

As if talking about her summoned her, she appeared in the door behind Sam’s back, observing silently and motioning for you not to babble out on her when you noticed her.

“Oh. Uhm… I’m sorry for your loss,” you whispered honestly and Sam smiled at you sadly, but undeniably grateful for such simple words.

“Thank you. I guess… the Universe does have a strange sense of humour. She came to me to help Steve, because she knew I lost my own and could relate and that’s how we found each other. It clicks in a weird way and I’m glad it seems to be working out so far.”

No way. Shit. Natasha had been… looking for a therapist for Steve? Just how bad Steve had been? The icy fist squeezing your heart gave you enough of an answer. Bad enough. You tried to silence the irrational guilt that gnawed at your stomach; it wasn’t exactly your fault, was it?

Curiosity was also knocking at your door, but you repressed it as well. As much as you’d like to ask whether Sam ended up having a session with Steve despite usually doing group ones, it felt wrong. Not to mention that Sam was a respectful and respecting man, who probably wouldn’t answer anyway.

“Yeah, it does,” you agreed with his musing instead, your own mind set off. “I thought it was rare to have two soulmarks and here we are.”

He snorted in an unattractive amusement. “Well, I have thought the same as you. And yet here we are. With you, coming back from the death as if two marks weren’t rare enough on their own.”

“That’s fair. But I suppose that… who else than people who spent smaller or larger part of their life saving the world deserves more than one chance at happiness?”

“True that,” he said with a light curl to his lips despite his eyes flickering behind you for a fraction of a second.

Letting your mind wander, you continued speaking, paying no mind you must bore him. “Or maybe it’s getting less rare. Maybe it’s part of something bigger, what we have yet to understand. Something… something might be changing. Cosmic…or maybe I’m just babbling. It’s just a feeling, something is in the air. A change.”

“That’s some heavy conversation to handle at four a.m,” a new voice spoke to the silence that had settled after your monologue and you whirled around, nearly jumping out of your skin.

“Steve!” you yelped, shocked and embarrassed. How much had he heard? Oh god…

Steve only shrugged and exchanged a look with Natasha, standing in the other doorway, which caused Sam to turn to his soulmate as well.

“Yeah, no shit,” Nat agreed, smirking.

“Hey, Nat,” Sam hummed, clearly less embarrassed at being eavesdropped on than you were.

“How about we cut this short and actually try to get some sleep?” she offered, carefree.

“Yeah, try,” you mimicked wryly with a sigh.

“We can try together,” Steve coaxed as he walked to you, running his hand through your hair tenderly. “Come with me, doll?”

How could a girl resist a sleepy supersoldier, when he combined his puppy eyes with being shirtless and inviting her back to his bed?

Couldn’t. The answer was: she couldn’t. You were a girl; hence you stood no chance.

“Sure,” you mumbled in a slight haze, before you managed to look back at your loyal listener. Sam had a smirk on his face, seeing what a goner you were for Steve, but his eyes were still kind. ”Thank you, Sam. Must be that face of yours, making me verbally vomit my emotions.”

“Did you just compliment my face?” he asked, fake-shocked and turned to his own soulmate, scandalized. “Nat, watch out! She might wanna steal me.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t do that if I were her,” Natasha grinned at him and he chuckled, comeback prepared.

“And why is that?”

She rolled her eyes, but her smile turned fond and you felt like you were missing something. Ah, private joke perhaps?

Not that you cared much as Steve squeezed your shoulder lightly, his thumb slipping under the sweater you hadn’t bothered buttoning up, caressing your bare arm.

“You’re so corny,” the spy snickered.

Sam stuck out tongue in response, at which Nat placed a palm over her chest in theatrics. You chuckled and rose to your feet.

“Well, this looks like the right time to leave. Night, guys!”

“Please, as if you are about to sleep! You fool no one!” Sam called after you and you would swear you heard a slap after that, making you giggle.

Steve wrapped his arm around your shoulder, pulling you to his side and pressing a kiss to your temple, his lips lingering in your hair then.

“I thought we agreed that we fit perfectly,” he hummed, only a trace of accusation in his warm timbre.

You sighed and curled up to him as close as it was possible while walking.

“We do. I… it really was just a strange dream, I guess, and this… whole thing. I saw it from a new perspective, you know? Basically an outsider who had no clue how soulmates worked at first. I went through the shock of you being my soulmate twice.”

“Ah, so you thought I was too handsome-“

You slapped his chest playfully as it instantly started shaking with hushed laughter, showing you he was only joking. You snuggled into his warmth, hoping your face didn’t quite had on display that yeah, he wasn’t that wrong. It was exactly that and like twenty other things about him and that was before you even met him. You didn’t expect him to ever understand that, not really, but Sam was right; you worked as a couple, or you liked to think so. Nothing else mattered.

Reaching your room, he released you from his embrace only to keep his hand on your shoulder to spin you, making you face him. You reluctantly raised your gaze, meeting his soft smile.

“I love you. You’re my everything and we are meant to be. Well, at least I believe that,” he mused, a fraction of doubt flashing in his eyes until you shook your head and planted a kiss right to his lips, feeling the smile widen. “If you’re not convinced… well. I’m making it my newest personal mission to prove it to you.”

Your eyebrow rose in challenge at his suggestive tone. “Are you, now?”

You couldn’t imagine saying no to that, but truth to be told, you were getting tired again; after spilling the beans to Sam, sharing your worries and getting them out of your chest, you felt like you would be able to actually fall asleep again.

“Yeah, doll. And I think I’ll start right in the morning after we get some sleep.”

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Epilogue

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Thank you for reading! (Potentially for leaving likes and reblogging)

There’s an epilogue left (full chapter-length), but you know me – I’m considering a short bonus chapter that I’m not sure will fit into the timeline – just something for fun, I guess. We’ll see.

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demonicowgirl · 3 years

Text

okay finished rule of wolves and i have THOUGHTS..... of which i have gathered..... like sheep i have herded them together. so no it's not coherent. spoilers under cut so abandon hope all ye who enter here

okay….. deadass…… i think my favorite point of view was from the darkling LIKE?!?!?! me before starting this book: HAHA THE DARKLING IS GOING TO DIE FOR THE SECOND TIME!!!!! GET REKT!!!!! me after: His first soldiers were dead now. Lovers, allies, countless kings and queens. Only he continued on. Eternity took practice, and he’d had plenty of it. The world had changed. War had changed. But he had not. but seriously he’s so dramatic and the shit is he says is like. unhinged. i had a blast

zoya deserves so much love and peace and i knew she’d end up queen but this was…. not how i expected it would be. but more thoughts on that down the list

how is jesper going to show up for approximately 14 pages and manage to be the funniest character in the entire book. like he’s got probably 50 lines and each one fucking hits HOW DOES HE DO IT

mayu’s chapters felt very unnecessary and i would’ve preferred to just not know how tamar’s mission in shu han is going until the khergud show up for their ride of rohirrim/knights of the vale moment. maybe leigh wrote it that originally and it just didn’t work? because i can definitely see how insane it would read like all we know about khergud is that they hunt grisha and then all of sudden they’re…. helping ravka?!?!? like it would be really hard to pull off but idk i think all of mayu’s chapters were just. kind of sloggy and the surprise would’ve been fun during the battle

sorry but i still don’t know what the fuck an airship looks like. or what the fjerdan naval base was supposed to look like. the tech in this universe is truly mind boggling

kaz brekker is so in love with inej ghafa. god they make me SICK

okay nina’s storyline…… this is my biggie……………… sigh. okay. nina’s storyline was my favorite part of king of scars and so i was really looking forward to seeing what would happen here. and for the most part i was having a great time!! i love her and hanne (more than i ever got into her and matthias) and i was so excited for jarl brum to finally fucking die. but then the last few chapters. i’m so……….. okay talking about hanne being a trans character (i’ll be using they/them pronouns because it doesn’t feel like a settled issue especially since they talk about not wanting to *be* rasmus, just his body). it makes so much sense for their character and i had HUUUUGE vibes all the way back in kos and i could see it coming here in row. but the way leigh handled their “transition” (???) is not good. like hanne had to kill a cis man and take on his identity to transition and that is such a bad handling i think??? who approved this. but also from a narrative standpoint it GETS WORSE?!?! like how the fuck is hanne gonna pretend to be a PRINCE… what will they do about the king and queen?? and nina remaining mila…… it honestly makes me really angry. that nina would turn her back on her country and friends and family for a LOVE INTEREST…… like her storyline has centered SO MUCH about how much she misses ravka, and in this duology even ketterdam!! like we all realize that when nina focuses on missing waffles or blini *those are symbolic stand-ins for her friends and it’s easier for her to talk about missing food than missing her friends*. like we all know that. and then in the end she says you know what i can PRETEND TO BE SOMEONE ELSE FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE????? and not just a random fjerdan woman literally someone who will be QUEEN OF FJERDA ONE DAY. like an incredibly public position that will put mila under a ton of scrutiny… more than her identity was created for! and nina literally acknowledges that if they got the real mila jandersdat’s friends and neighbors to look at nina they’d know she was an impostor. so what is mila’s village gonna do when they hear mila jandersdat is apparently back from noyvi zem and now engaged to the prince???? i think leigh chose an ending that just doesn’t hold up narratively and logically. like i want nina to be happy and find love but why does it have to be…. not as nina.

my other big gripe is the politics and international implications of everything that’s going on like…… ravka is engaging in some CIA-backed-coups-in-latin-america levels of diplomacy. like fjerda is not just going to have a secret grisha impersonating their prince and eventual king one day, but their queen will ALSO be a secret grisha and RAVKAN SPY???? if nina was ever caught do you know the level of international scandal that would cause??? how the fuck could zoya even let her go off and do this??? it would absolutely be grounds for war and i thought zoya and everybody were TIRED of war. speaking of ravka’s government. guys we LITERALLY DO NOT HAVE TO HAVE A MONARCHY. like i was actually hoping zoya would become queen but like…. because she married nikolai. not because nikolai stepped down and she was appointed. like i was fine with the monarchy sticking around if they never even had a chance to contemplate alternatives but they literally say no………. we choose monarchy. besides the fact that the world is advancing and monarchies don’t last long in technologically advanced societies, zoya is going to have the most unstable reign because of the threat from the lantsovs. like nikolai’s parents are gonna go back to the southern colonies and just be like “our son ended our dynasty and put a grisha on our throne but that’s fine! we shouldn’t try to reinstate ourselves or anything.” demidov is fine with this??? he had a problem with nikolai being a lantsov pretender but zoya just starting her own monarchial dynasty gets no pushback??? like i know nobody wants to end the book/series on such a depressing note but like. a revolution and/or coup is staring zoya in the face. and yeah she’s the motherfucking dragon but um…… so was daenerys targaryen. and ultimately it really feels like the ending of game of thrones where a bunch of noblemen are gathered in one room and they’re like “we have the chance to change the course of our country forever so we will…….. START A NEW DYNASTY!” ….. HUH?!?!!? like when nikolai was like ravka will choose its leader! and the only people from ravka in the room are the landed gentry and peerage. like yeah ravka really got a say in this…. so no nikolai i actually don’t think the nazyalensky dynasty will last that long because with all the threats of being overthrown on LITERALLY ALL SIDES zoya may just decide to say fuck it and give the people democracy so it’s no longer her problem! or she just gets killed. so. anyways if the only known countries in this world are ruled by either 1. monarchies (fjerda, ravka, shu han) or 2. plutocracy (kerch) i can see why literally fucking everybody is moving to noyvi zem. like jesus i would too!

genya deserves so much better she has suffered so much and i know leigh needed to make the war have personal consequences BUT DOES SHE HAVE TO HURT GENYA IN THE PROCESS???? like she just doesn’t get a break. anyways i hope she retires from the triurmvirate and goes to live with alina and mal in keramzin because you know what. they were right. they were right to turn their back on literally everything to do with ravkan politics. genya go join them pls

zoya’s expression of grief and mourning… yeah. yeah that one hurt.

i know everybody’s talking about the potential of soc3 but actually i don’t want that! let the crows be in peace in ketterdam!!!! their biggest threats should be like. getting shanked in the barrel not whatever the fuck zoya will put them through. i hope kaz just ignores her letters and when the Queen of Ravka personally comes to his doorstep he reiterates that he’s RETIRED. and when zoya tries to pull the inej card she pops out from behind kaz and says “i’m on vacation with my boyfriend. we’re good!” LET THEM REST!!!!!!!

so yes these are my thoughts not all of them but many of them. i still really enjoyed it and think it was waaaay better than king of scars (not as good as soc & ck though <3). the problem is that the ending definitely colors your view of everything that's happened and if you don't like the ending... well. it's not even that i didn't like the entirety of the ending i mostly just hated nina's and the implications of zoya's. do not mistake me for a darkling fangirl!!!! anyways the writing in this was really good too and there were more moments that just HIT ME than in kos, which i think i just sort.... breezed through without getting hit in the face by a brick of a line. but this one has so many moments especially in zoya and the darkling's chapters that i'm just like OH!!!!! so that is why i leave you with this:

"Zoya, do you know why the Darkling lost the civil war? How Alina stopped him?" Zoya pinched the bridge of her nose. "No. I wish I did." "Because he always fought alone. He let his power isolate him. Alina had us. You have us. You push us away, keep us at arm's distance so that you won't mourn us. But you'll mourn us anyway. That's the way love works."

#rule of wolves #i need to get a tagging system together or something #but i'm lazy.....#grishaverse

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powerosewaterpuff · 4 years

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so one question , what happen after bruce " death "

okokok so first off thank you so so much for this, it def helped get my creative juices flowing (and i totally didn’t do this instead of study for my exams :) )! so, when it came to bruce’s death i wanted to do one scene/moment that kinda encapulasted all the emotions happening etc., and i’m assuming u meant in terms of my lil reverse robin au with jason being the oldest (i really should make this a series lol) so yeah, please enjoy and this legit was churned out at 2:04AM on the dot so yk its s h i t

••••••••••

It was the soft snoring that had tipped Jason off.

The sound slowly flowed through the winds and slipped into his ears, as he went from rooftop to rooftop, as he scoured closer to Wayne Manor. He had avoided his old ‘home’ like the plague, a plague so dark and twisted it could infect him by only a glance but for some reason he felt almost obligated to get at least one check or look.

Maybe, it was the off handed disparaging comment that Dick had made in patrol under this breath after settling a crime scene a little too close to Jason’s turf that no one had caught except him that was yanking his unwilling body to just check that everything was fucking peachy. It was just a check. He would be in and out with minimal harm done and no one would even have to see him, and he could quell this annoying little voice creaking on about how much he has failed Dick, blathering on and on about his so many shortcomings when it came to him.

He hadn’t exactly expected to find Dick curled in his civvies up on an old nook by one of the gargoyles perched on the roof and snoring away. It was a spot they had haunted a lot in their youth, and Dick would insist on pulling Jason out of the warm confines of his bed just to watch the sun come up from that very spot. Jason would moan and complain about it for a while but once he saw the iridescent sheen of the blazing sun rearing it’s head on the horizon, he would clamp his mouth shut to enjoy the view.

He examined Dick critically and weighed his odds objectively as he inched closer, each thunk of his boots a calculated risk he was annoyingly choosing to take. Dick was clearly safe in some capacity and if the little brats down below couldn’t find him they would eventually try the roof, so Jason couldn’t exactly pinpoint the reason why he was still moving closer, tense but still moving. It was almost like a snake, slithering forward with its defences high as it keeps itself on edge for any sudden movements.

He would’ve left. Jason was going to leave, he had already eased his fragile conscience as it was, and he knew that Dick wasn’t in any life threatening danger, (Unless the danger was Jason himself), but it wasn’t until he was close enough to cock his head to the side a bit to get a better angle on Dick’s face, when he stopped in his tracks.

Little tear tracks, almost vein like, had stained Dick’s cheeks. They weren’t even all that noticeable, but the sheer existence of them at all was enough to make Jason just stop.

(He had always had a hard time ignoring Dick’s tears, hadn’t he? When Dick would sprain an ankle, or get even the mildest of all mild concussions, and his eyes began to get this glassy sheen while he desperately tried to hide them, Jason would be unable to leave his side. He had almost sworn himself into the duty of making sure Dick didn’t cry. Oh, how fate fiddles with its toys.)

Swallowing hard, Jason’s eyes flickered around, doing one last sweep of his surroundings. He sighed, attaching his gun to the holster around his waist and crouched down on the balls of his feet next to Dick. He fucking despised how Dick almost realized he was next to him, and shifted his position. Leaning his head onto Jason’s shins.

Jason knew enough to keep his connection with Dick as thin as he possibly could, but he was too selfish to let it burn to the ground like all the countless bridges he had torched and scorned at. Knowledgeable enough to distance but too selfish to leave.

What a fucking motto that was.

Jason took yet another shaky sigh, a lot more haggard this time, as he rubbed his hands over the smooth material of his helmet. It grounded him, for a slip of a moment, as he tried to avert his eyes from Dick’s form that was rising and falling slowly. Every time he glanced over, he managed to find something else he hated.

The dark circles making stark holes under his eyes.

The pinched look pulling at his features.

Those stupid fucking tear stains that were just screeching at Jason.

(“Batman just saves everyone, doesn’t he?”)

The fact that everytime Jason blinked, an eerily green shade would overtake his vision, leaving the form next to him shifting and contorting between the man next to him and the little twelve year old he had left behind. Scorched in the flames of Jason’s symphony.

Jason fumbled to release himself from his helmet, as his mind played catch up woth his thoughts and he ignored the pulling at his chest. He shoved the helmet off as it fizzed away, and threw his head back to take clumsy gulps of air. The putrid smell of rotting flesh mixed with dirt was ripping through him, but he pushed it aside. As he always did.

You just couldn’t fucking leave, Todd. Why the fuck couldn’t you just leave, huh? Ironic, wasn’t it? You keep demanding people realize you’re a different creature from what you once were, yet you can barely differentiate between your twelve year old brother and the man whose morphed into everything you fucking hate. Why? Why are you here? Move. Move. Get up. Get the fuck up, Tod-.

“Y’know? You are such an asshole,” Jason croaked softly, shifting his eyes to see if Dick stirred but to no response.

“I know you don’t want this. I know that, so why are you still against m—,” Jason ran a hand through his hair and tugged at his roots slightly, “Batman saves everyone, huh? He doesn’t save you though, does he? No ones here to catch you when you fall anymore, and now you’re crying on a fucking roof.”

He curled his hands around his roots tighter, feeling the pull of his skin prickle at his mind, “You’re setting a bad example, Dick. What will your dearest little brats think about this performance? He never pulled shit like this. You know that, though. I know you do. That’s why you’re doing it in a little secret spot so that you can turn yourself around, and give that stupid smile that no one believes anyways. I always thought you were a little less predictable then that. I overestimated, clearly.”

Jason resolved to stare at the drying splatters of blood that adorned the soles of his shoes. He bit down the churning of acids in his stomach, a feeble attempt of his conscience to make him feel like shit. He had overestimated. He had. Dick wasn’t fucking better, it didn’t matter that he had tried to smother the Joker in an adrenaline high, because he was still as useless as Bruce. Jason was effective, he got shit done that no one else had the stomach to do and that was fine. He had far gotten over his pleading desire for Batman to avenge him, it was a fallacy of the boy who had become a rotting carcass under the confines of wood and shattering bones. Jason has become far more attuned to the reality of his situation, not the fallacy.

As the moon revealed itself from behind a long string of clouds, Jason once again glanced down at Dick. He snorted softly, as he saw a certain gleam in Dick’s waves of hair.

“God, do you still use that same pomade? I swear you got an allergy from that, did you not? Anyways it still fucking reeks, so you better take that shit off.”

Jason allowed himself to slowly unfurl his hands from almost tanking out tufts of his hair, as he felt the tightly wound rope around his chest unwind ever so slowly.

“Grayson? Grayson!”

The shrill tilt of a voice shoved Jason back into reality, and he was already setting his helmet into place, with his line soaring across the sky to another building. He cast a fleeting look at Dick, before he soared off into the sky before the little boy dressed in a jalabiya got the chance to peak his head into the little flap leading up to the roof.

Fin

(P.S. It really hadn’t been Jason’s ideal Friday night, by any means necessary. He had envisioned himself finally finishing Little Women, and being able to devour the next book that had ‘mysteriously’ shown by his door. Instead, he was roped into watching Miracle on 34th Street with a particular blue bird perched on the floor by his couch.

Bryon has just been complaining to Kris about his failed proposal attempt with Susan, when Jason caught onto the sound of soft breathing with a hint of a snore. He pushed himself out of his previous position, and peered down to find Dick slumped on the floor with his head resting on the side of Jason’s legs. He sighed, his lips twitching upwards as he didn’t dare move his legs from their spot.

He stretched his arms out out, to reach for both his book that was on the old coffee table as well as the remote. He smacked the end of the remote a few times, and slowly lowered the volume on the TV. (Dick had once told him he never really liked sleeping in complete silence, it bothered him to some extent). He then flipped to the page he had stopped on, slowly pulling out an old but pristine bookmark that Jason and Bruce had made once, and gently placed it next to him. He leaned back, resting his aching back as his eyes flickered over the words of the novel, all the more aware of the presence by his feet but he found himself not minding all that much. He knew this kind of calming bliss was only temporary with the ‘clan’ they had but he savoured it with all he had.

...The children are regular archangels, and I-well, I’m Jo, and never shall be anything else. Oh, I must tell you that I came near having a quarrel with Laurie...(P.267 of Little Women.)

•••

SOOO THATS IT THIS TOOK SO MUCH LONGER THAN I WANTED I AM SO SORRY! i’m pretty pleased with how it turned out and even though it’s not a series of hc’s per say i wanted to kinda encapsulate everything yk? also damian wears a jalabiya please let this child be connected to his culture for my sanity and his (my little egyptian-canadian ass needs this o k?) also my plan is to do a lil christmas fic with bruce and dick but u h h i have shitty time management skills lEMME TELL UUU I STILL HAVE WAY TOO MUCH UNFINISHED SHIT IN AO3 T-T BUT ANWAYS THANK YOU GUYS SO MUCH FOR READING THIS WAS HELLA FUN TO DO :)!!

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shaechans · 4 years

Text

a shaechans fic: unexpected company

to: somni ( @insomni-writing ) a merry christmas to you somni!!! anddddd i’ve been your secret santa all this time ahhh i hope you’re surprised. maybe a little???? anyway, apologies in advance cause this is not that good and quite rushed (you may see a few edits after i’ve published ahhh but please pay no mind thanks<3) but i hope you like this. i wrote about a uh uh surprise trope and i know you like horror but i’m not good at those:(( so i wrote this. i also posted a moodboard for this (and one for you special;)) on my other account @a5ahiboyz so check it out!! small note at the end as well yee i talk too much

pairing: lee haechan x somni

genre: strangers! au, fluff, a little angst towards the end and in the middle, kinda boring:((

word count: 3.2k it was supposed to be 2.5k ahhhhhhh

warnings: like one swear word

the evening wasn’t going well for somni. ironic seeing how she was always one to get things done her way or it wasn’t considered an accomplishment to her. but today was...different. it was the day she had met a fellow, claimed master criminal lee haechan.

lee haechan, or by birth, donghyuck—something somni would prefer calling him just to see him clench fists—would be your definition of next door boy. friendly, the type to reach out for cookies with a mischievous grin kinda tune. he carries a lovely, bubbly energy every time he shows his face and is the neighborhood's pride and, at this point, only hope! and he was happy to be so.

except for the fact that he was an evil genius.

thursday, 24th december 21:11pm

flipping through the fiction section of the bookstore, somni let out a sigh seeing the stock of last ones left alive, a book she had been aching to get her hands on, diminishing each day she’d visit the store. she was running out of motivation to actually get a job, like she had considered a few days, and/or steal anything seeing how she wouldn’t be able to afford it anyway.

sighing yet again, she got herself ready to walk back to her ‘house’. rubbing her palms and blowing hot air into them she prepared for the cold and harsh wind to hit her out of her senses again. as she thought of a hot chocolate to warm her system, a certain book caught her eye from the new release section. turning back around, somni rushed over to read through the summary at the back.

all too focused on the book, she missed to hear the last call for the last of customers at the store. and when she did get back to her senses, she heard the last of the keys jingling as the owner locked the store. somni’s head whipped in the direction of the main door, as she made a run for the door, eyes widening to saucers in realization.

after a minute or so of banging and yanking at the door knob, somni let go, sliding down the door before regretting as the cold wind from the loose end of the door nipped at her skin. she sighed loudly at the thought of spending the night in this cold nightmare of a store. alone. until she heard a voice on the other, back end of the store. picking up a book near her as defense, somni carefully walked over, curiosity getting the best of her.

“um hello-AHHAHHHHHHHHKASJAKJHSSJ” the figure keyboard smashed as somni ran over, in an attack stance before smacking the shadow across the head. the mysterious person was now unconscious on the floor as somni panicked over her actions. the person would come to be the very famous, lee haechan!

somni was born to loving parents and got everything she ever wanted. except she could never be satisfied with whatever it was she did receive. don’t get the girl wrong, what she demanded would be given at her feet, but unfortunate for her parents, as easily satisfied she was, twice the dissatisfaction she would spit. it wasn’t until her father snapped at her and abandoned her by the family cottage just 2 miles away from home. but then again, it wasn’t like somni planned on going back home anyway.

and that’s when the idea of theft inspired somni for the “better”.

thursday, 24th december 21:23pm

it had been a little over fifteen minutes to haechan’s passing out, when somni had managed to find water from the storeroom of the bookstore. cradling water—ice cold water, to which she flinched first but then overcame the numbness—from the now tilted bottle on her left hand into her right, as she straight up splashed water on his face. and when he didn’t respond to that, panicking, tilted the bottle upside down, the water drenching his face and shirt.

at that, the boy gasped sharply, shooting up straight like, similar to his widened from when he experienced literal ice cubes fall on his skin. the two stared at each other for a minute, haechan in utter shock and somni in relief/concern from recovering from the fact that she didn’t murder.

somni was first to turn away, exhaling breath she didn’t she had held. “thank GOD you aren’t dead! i couldn’t be with another one” “whAT?” “NOTHING!” somni yelled, turning around and standing up to get away quickly from the wet and cold scene. haechan needed a few extra minutes to process the situation before getting to his feet too and following her to the main door.

“what are you doing?” jumping slightly and holding onto her heart, somni rolled her eyes as she took note of his presence and choosing to ignore his question, she continued to try her luck unscrewing the door with a hard covered book. that went on for five minutes before she gave up and clicked her tongue, and went on a search to find another tool.

haechan could only watch her move around, hands behind his back as his eyes rested onto the tops of the dusty bookshelves. “do they seriously not clean those? christ!” he exclaimed, pulling out a tissue from his jean pocket and climbing to reach the top part of the shelf.

a loud thud and hard covered books falling was what brought somni out of her trance from staring at the toolbox, in a dilemma with what to choose, her indecisiveness kicking in at a wrong time. running out to see a haechan piled under heavy looking books, somni stifled a laugh before trying to steady her voice “are you okay??”

to see how true of an evil genius haechan would reveal later to be what somni would come to realization a little late. to somni, haechan was a comforting sign that destruction would still present itself in the oblivious way and it made her feel a little less lonely than she would on the daily. so much comfort that it was almost like he was following her. following her enough to know that she needed a reassurance of the other evil present in the world.

somni would start low, with convenience stores and slowly then work her way up to malls and finally, her one and only love: the bookstore round the corner. the smell of newly fresh printed pages—which she would walk by simply to get motivated with her next convenience store raid—is what somni would call motivation. which is why she was currently trapped in a bookstore, past their closing time (as she knew), with her new bestie<33, the one and the only, lee haechan.

thursday, 24th december 21:57pm

“so what exactly were you doing doing here?” somni let the question hang onto the dry silence that was meant to be broken anyway. the pair moved over to the floor after somni helped and laughed and cleaned the books off him and out of the way. somni having given up on finding a way out at this point, the surroundings being too cold for her to stand solo.

at this haechan pondered for a bit, before answering “i was on the look for this one book, a series of them actually. my aunt asked, to which i’ve already forgotten the title” he paused to roll his eyes and look through his previous messages, presumably from said aunt.

“percy jackson and the olympians” shrugging as he announced, he clicked his phone ‘off’ before looking to somni, who managed to resist a sequel as he confirmed the title. that being understandable as it was her favouritest book of all time! haechan eyed her, eyebrow raising when she covered her mouth, trying her best to hide the grin etching onto her face.

“what’s with your reaction?” “oh it’s just i-” somni started before thinking; why on earth do i have to let him know. he’s just a stranger after all. she didn’t even know his name.

she didn’t even know his name.

“uh what did you say your name was again??” somni raised her brow at the boy, watching his eyes slowly widened a bit realising they hadn’t introduced themselves. he stuck out his hand, a boxy grin present as he introduced himself “i’m lee donghyuck! but everyone calls me haechan because donghyuck’s too….formal for me.” somni nodded once, before reaching out to shake his hand “i’m somni! it’s nice meeting you donghyuck” she winked at him as he groaned, causing her to stick out her tongue playfully at him.

donghyuck grew up in a family of four sisters and one twin brother. the seven of them lived contently with their father’s pay as police commissioner and mother as a lawyer—training currently for magistrate judge. however, their parents were quite conservative with family traditions and obedience. so when one of donghyucks’ older sisters came out to them as pansexual, she was banished from entering the house. this quick and stern change startling the rest and so they started to fulfill and satisfy with whatever their parents wished for them today.

all except donghyuck.

of course he was scared out of wits even at the thought of running away but after his twin convinced him to do it with him, donghyuck trusted him. and so one night, six year old donghyuck ran away. alone. his twin having ditched out of last minute thoughts. finding shelter in a nearby house down the street, turning to the first house he could. the couple thinking he was in trouble decided to take him in. before he knows, he’s staying with them for years and suddenly he’s eighteen and he goes off to his first day of university.

and then he meets his father.

thursday, 24th december 22:17pm

“why do you even like that book?” haechan asked, a disgusted look taking over his features as somni reached out to smack his leg slightly. “it’s not just a book!! it’s a journey” “jOuRneY” they said in unison, haechan mockingly as he rolled his eyes, chuckling slightly at somni’s offended expression.

since they had no other work to do, the two decided to at least clean the store while haechan was on the lookout for the percy jackson book series his aunt had requested for. somni had let the boy know that she had seen it earlier and was ecstatic to lead the way to them. while she did so, she also rambled on and on about how exciting the books are and how he should give them a try, to which haechan could only ignore.

silence took over after somni had finished summarizing the basic structure of the series when haechan asked the question somni had been dreading to hear “isn’t your family gonna be worried?” minutes of cold emptiness went by before haechan interrupted “uh...hello? are you okay??” he asked, and as somni could see from the corner of eye, worriedly. after taking in her wordless response—and a visible gulp—haechan dropped the question.

“i know mine won’t worry,” he said after a few seconds. “it’s not like they ever did” he muttered looking away. at that, he managed to get somni’s attention and continuing on “my birth parents were quite stern in their ways and so i ran away” somni gawked at this, staring at the nonchalant boy in front of her. “you ran a-away?” haechan nodded.

“when i was six” “wheN YOU WERE SIX?!!?!?” haechan’s heart sped up at her sudden increase in her volume, but nodding nonetheless. “hmm me and my twin decided to just leave. but when the time came, he ditched me so i just left by myself” he paused to search the top shelves for the books. “and obviously they didn’t come after me”.

at that, somni unintentionally reached to touch his arm as a sign of comfort. but soon removed it when haechan looked between her and her hand. sighing, somni internally debated with whether she should tell haechan of her situation or was he still yet to gain her trust. eventually she thought ‘fuck it’ and decided to tell him. what could he possibly do with the information?

somni didn’t exactly have much of a school life seeing how despite her parents paying for her fees three more years after her moving out, she was never one to mingle with people. she’d often keep to herself and just go on with whatever life threw at her. which is why she moved to theft in the first place. in order to provide for herself.

but then she was offered a job. a job at the convenience store she would raid.

having been working there long enough (two ½ years) made stealing easier for her. this way she earned her share of finance and everyday necessities. her boss was a snooze, who’d never glance over at any of the items for more that second, to realise things were missing. and in addition, somni would convince her that it was just selling well, increasing her spirits and faith in the girl. therefore not spare a thought to check cctv rolls.

thursday, 24th december 22:42pm

“i got sent away.” haechan hummed in question, heading slowly turning in her direction as they sat on the carpeted floor of the bookstore. sighing and placing her book page down, somni continued with more confidence “my parents threw my out of the house. and they were right! they had every reason to! but i” her words choked slightly, haechan looking at her with sympathy “i just miss them” she sighed finally looking up at him and after her constant eye contact with the floor, haechan was illuminating from the moon reflecting on him through the small front window.

“i’ve been an absolute brat my entire life and i can only imagine how fed up my parents were of me to actually send me away” her ramble coming to a stop when she couldn’t find words to say. the feeling of emptiness only increasing by the second within her. somni felt her tears fall when she registered haechan’s hand patting her back in reassurance.

she paid him a smile back after inhaling and exhaling to catch her senses back. he smiled back as okay before going back to reading. the precious silence lasted for a while before haechan closed his book and turned to face somni completely. “so how do you live? by yourself?? what do you do for a living? god i just need to know!!” somni raised her brow at the boy in front of her, not choosing to flinch, accustomed to his startling nature.

“well i do live by myself, i still go to school cause my parents pay for it and for a living, i steal”

and then the power tripped.

donghyuck’s new life with his parents was much easier than what he had experienced with his birth family. at first he would still be unfazed with his change in surroundings, asking permission to even go to the bathroom and bowing when the pair would confusingly agree. they would sit him down one day to explain that he needn't ask their permission to tug at their clothes to call them—to which donghyuck would look at the pair astonished at this new world.

and from then on, donghyuk was constantly loved and pampered by the old couple and it was everything he could ask for. he lived a normal life, going to school everyday and then even offering to repay his parents by working shifts at a restaurant after he would turn seventeen.

every once in a while he would run into his siblings around town but he would just walk away. it wasn’t like they were gonna recognize him anyway.

thursday, 24th december 23:24pm

somni froze. haechan had been clinging on to her arm, eyes closed shut and body trembling. his small fit went on for a while, somni being patient and even patting his back awkwardly. “i-i’m a little, tiny bit TERRIFIED of the dark” somni chuckled softly, firmly placing a hand on his back, running it up and down in comfort.

they sat there until somni tapped his hand and reached her own out for him to take “c’mon just take my hand and we’ll go find the power switch okay” haechan nodded, eyes still closed. after successfully standing up, somni walked with dragged haechan to the main switch on the other side of the store. after messing with switches carefully, somni managed to get the light back on.

she clapped her hands excitedly and turned to haechan, who was still hugging her waist. haechan looked up at her and they were close enough to have their noses touching. they stared at each other, either too frozen in place to move. somni faked a cough and cleared her throat, haechan taking the signal and moving away, standing up straight with hot pink cheeks.

friday, 25th december 00:04pm

bored out of their minds, the pair of them moved to lay on the floor, eyes boring holes into the wooden roof of the bookstore. random thoughts running wild at nothing to concentrate on. haechan was first to break the silence, gasping and sitting straight up and looking around at the clock. “it’s christmas!!!” somni soon got up too, beaming at the clock and then at haechan.

“merry christmas donghyuck” she laughed, leaning forward to hug the now sulky boy. “haha merry christmas to you somni.” the hug was soon interrupted by sirens fading into the scene. the two pulled away fast, heads whipping in the direction of the sound.

“we’ve gotta run!” “grab the books you need!” haechan stared at somni in confusion as she stood up to get her desired book. “wait wait. GRAB the books? are you gonna steal them?” somni paused to give him a look of an obvious nod. “you can’t just fucking stea-” “PUT YOUR HANDS UP WHERE I CAN SEE THEM!”

dropping the books in astonishment, the both of them throwing their hands up immediately. they were then assisted outside, shivering when coming in sudden contact with the snowy environment. somni rubbed her arms up and down as a way to provide warmth. looking around for haechan, she saw him handshaking the officer??

“ms. somni, you are under arrest for theft!” somni could not move, feet as frozen as her lips. she called out for haechan who replied with a smirk before walking over to her. “what’s up love?” “whaT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?” “arresting you on the basis of theft?” he said like it was blatantly obvious.

somni gritted her teeth as he winked back at her before turning to walk away. “just wait till i get out lee donghyuk” stopping in his tracks, he turned his head slightly back, “it’s officer haechan to you”

from: nes!! wellllll hi lmao. firstly, this fucking sucks ASS. i didn’t even know what i was writing half way through and i honestly didn’t have the energy to proofread so i apologize for all the grammar mistakes:( wanna lowkey make a part two to this but let me know if this was even liable for a sequel ahhhh. anyway, have a merry christmas and i guess we’re mutuals now;)

#nctincss20 #mine #somni bb #nct #christmas!!#haechan #haechan fluff #angst #nct fluff #nct angst #fluff #haechan angst

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georgemackayhey · 4 years

Text

Silver Lining: Chapter 5

In which you and George decide to make the most of life after meeting up at the wrong place at just the right time…

w/c: 6k

a/n: Welcome to the end! This has been such a fun story to tell. I hope you've all enjoyed it! I'm so beyond grateful for all the nice comments and reblogs and asks. I've got blurbs and another series in the works, but please feel free to come talk about this one! I'm just not ready to say goodbye to these characters! ♡

taglist: @etherealallure @maria-josefin @shelbygirlsclubx @loulouloueh @clarkewithameme @haileymorelikestupid @weyheyavengers @queen-bunnyears

───※ ·❆· ※───

George was happily occupied, his silhouette comfy on the small balcony, the sun highlighting the pages of the book in his hands. You quietly tiptoed to the bathroom, not bothering to turn on the light, letting the glow from the window be enough while you filled up the tub and eased into the warm bath.

You felt bad, but it wasn't from the hangover.

You felt bad for ruining Aureos night. You even felt bad as you formed some sorry text, asking the guy for another hang to make up for the last one you forced to an early end.

But you felt worst of all for dragging George through the aftermath of your shitty breakup.

When this was all over, he'd go back home, back to whatever movie set or red carpet he had lined up next. And his acquaintance would be fondly remembered as a balm to your heartache. But as you tried to outrun the anguish of being cheated on, a different worry seemed to take over your world.

Now you feared you'd never get to that place again. That you'd never get to plan a future with someone. You were terrified of how badly you wanted a future, and how badly you'd miss George, no matter what happened next.

When all your worries threatened to drown you, you hurried to get cleaned up, determined to make the most of the last few days in Spain.

When you rushed out of the bathroom to find George, he was right where you remembered him to be earlier.

He gazed up at you with a hint of worry in his eye, probably because of your sudden breathless appearance in the open doorway of the balcony.

"What do you want to do today?" You asked.

"Don't we have something-"

"No, what do you want to do?" You stressed. You didn't care what you had all planned out. Nothing ever seemed to go according to your plans, anyway.

And after a little bit more convincing, you got George to lead the way. You didn't even ask where you were going. While you strolled into the city, you wondered if George even had a plan. He walked slowly and shared easy conversation. And every now and again, he'd turn an odd corner or look up and around like he'd just realized where he was.

Eventually, you ended up in a park, or a garden, or some kind of nature trail you hadn't been paying much attention. You stepped over fallen branches, swept your hand over a row of flowers as you passed, but kept your undivided attention on George as he spoke. Though the weather was perfect and the sights were new and exciting, you couldn't look away from the man at your side. You could come back to Barcelona any old time, but you hated to accept your days with George were numbered.

You wound up against the trunk of a tree, watching families and hikers stroll past while the sun shone down in spots through the treetops. You could see the trail winding down a rolling hill, and the pepperings of the city and its buildings start to pop up on the horizon. And while you accounted for your surroundings you soaked up George's voice, and listened to the things he said as if he might be gone when you woke up tomorrow.

And then you talked, and George listened, looking at you like he did. Like he'd looked at all the paintings at the Vatican. Like he really wanted to know what you were about. You tried to ignore how sad his gaze made you feel, and appreciated that you'd made such a valuable connection before all of this inevitably ended back at your hometown airport.

You brushed a fallen leaf from George's shoulder, and he grinned at you in a way that made you retract back; spooked by how you recognized the expression, how familiar sitting with him had become.

George asked if you were okay, and you quickly thought to blame your nervous demeanor for how poorly you felt about last night. How things ended with Aureo, and how you'd texted him early this morning in hopes that he'd give you a second chance.

"He texted me back, an hour ago. So I'll have to meet up with him later." You rambled, avoiding George's burning gaze.

"If you feel like you have to... then don't. But if you want..."

"Yeah. I want." You decide through a sigh, pulling your phone into view, punching out a response to Aureo that let him know our plans were on.

George remained quietly glancing toward the city on the horizon, listening to families laugh together as they drifted passed. When you finished your text, you stood to your feet to make the most of the rest of your time with George.

"Come on let's go get gelato." You extended a hand to help him up from against the tree. George smiled up at you, an expression that wasn't hard to understand. You laughed together all the way back down the trail, and into the city.

When you go there, people of all kinds were buzzing about, setting up makeshift markets and dancing to music crackling from speakers above shop windows.

George lost himself to a conversation with a street vendor about a row of old records they were selling. You left him there to cross the cobblestone with your eye on a food truck. You ordered gelato as you promised, guessing what to order for George based on your late-night debates on what the best ice cream flavors were.

You handed your card to the man behind the window, while you let the wind blow your hair back, soaking up the bright smiles on every passerby's face.

"I'm sorry, miss, this card, it's being declined." The vendor frowned as if it were his fault. He opted to try again before you had the chance to apologize yourself and suggest the same thing.

It was the only card you had, and you'd made sure it was more than equipped to handle your big trip. But alas, the vendor handed it back with a long face and you had to shell out some of the last euros you had on hand.

You reported back to George with gelato, breezed over your predicament, and moved on to giggling over a story George told about an ice cream truck-related injury. He informed you'd gotten his order perfectly right, it was a flavor he'd never pick on his own but ended up loving. All the while you ended up strolling back toward your hotel, but opted not to head in just yet. The wind had picked up a bit, and most of the beachgoers outside your resort had called it a day.

You walked along the in coming tide with George, stopping every few feet to pick up a shell or look out to the ocean as it roared in time with the wind. And for as much conversation as you'd been having, the two of you never ran out of topics to ramble over. You laughed and listened and talked about things you'd forgotten about, things you always wondered.

All topics except one. George looked at you with those eyes bluer than the ocean, something unspoken behind his gaze. At first, you thought you'd understood that look. But it'd morphed into something so complex that you couldn't figure out what the look was supposed to mean. All you knew was that every time he cast you that one certain gaze, you felt right at home. You'd gotten used to it. You expected it. You anticipated that look and feared for the day you'd never see it again.

You sent George to collect your shoes from the place you hid them under a pier, when your phone buzzed in your pocket. You stayed lingering near a bed of grass, hoping after you'd taken a beat to acknowledge all the notifications coming in, that you could go about the rest of your day.

They were all from your bank. A pit opened in your stomach when you scrolled through all your recent transactions, none of them made by you. All of them from the resort you were meant to stay at all along.

Colin had maxed out your card on room service and bar drinks and expensive film channels and God knows what else.

Before you could call your bank, you dialed in Colin's number.

"Why would you do this?" You begged to know after he greeted your call like he'd been expecting to hear from you.

Colin started in on calling you names and boasting about how his payback seemed to work. He was trying to get back at you for leaving all the canceled wedding costs in his lap. But he cheated on you. He ruined all of this. Yet, he couldn't seem to stop making your life hell. You shouted at him, begging for a truce. Pleading for your interactions to be over, to never see a trace of him again.

That's when you spotted George trekking through the sand with his of pair shoes and yours in either of his hands.

Colin made life hard and maybe he always would. George made life easy, and you were really scared that he wouldn't be around to help you see the bright side for much longer. You always figured you'd fly home and go your separate ways. But now that same thought made you want to cry.

You ended your phone call with Colin in a huff, scrambling to find every bit of composure as George approached you, wearing a look that seemed to ask what the matter was.

"God, this is so stupid." You warned, glancing up to George as he stood, ready to listen.

"Colin maxed out my bank account. Luckily our tickets home are already paid for." You let out a laugh but none of this was funny. "And it's nearly five. I promised Aureo I'd meet him round six. So I better go pull myself together."

You sucked in a breath and turned to do just that. George looked at you like there were too many things he wanted to say, but couldn't choose one from the other, so he just followed along.

___

You got ready with time to spare, putting on your best outfit, fixing your hair just right. For some reason, this date felt paramount. Like making things right with Aureo was going to help everything else fall in place, bring some kind of balance.

As you collected your bag and started to slowly make your leave, George seemed to be waiting for you in the kitchen, standing a little straighter from his slump against the counter when he noticed you enter. George looked at you with an honest open expression, stitched with a hint of worry. No, not worry, something more complex. A disgruntled, melancholic gaze you couldn't quite place. But then he just said,

"I hope you have a good time."

And it sounded like he really meant it.

"Me too." You whispered, spinning to leave. That same sinking feeling swallowed you as you marched down the hall away from George. You knew it was because you didn't really want to leave him. But you promised Aureo a good time and damn it, you needed one too.

___

Aureo was confident. He spoke like he was wishing for the things he wanted, demanding they come to life before his eyes. He wanted more. You didn't blame him for dreaming big. Everyone had their ambitions.

Aureo was beautiful, and he must have known it, with the way he flaunted his outfit, rambling about how green and grey were his best colors. You admired the way his emerald eyes bore into yours, undeniably drinking in the sight of you.

After a small introduction to the lower level of his home, you ventured to the back garden. You turned down a smoke, but leaned against the brink of his veranda while he puffed a cigarette, pointing out all the fresh veggies in the small garden he grew, like a proud parent.

And then he led you back inside, his hand traveling to the small of your back as you stepped into his cool home. You settled onto an elegantly patterned sofa as Aureo poured you both a tumbler of dark liquor before joining your side.

You kept hold of the glass in your lap, sickened even by the thought of drinking. Thank God Aureo was too busy talking to notice your disregard for the beverage. He asked your own answers too, watching your lips as you spoke. And before too long, he leaned in for a kiss.

You knew it was inevitable. You knew this was why you'd come here. So you let him kiss you, and you kissed him back, hoping the more desperately you gave in to his advances, that you would feel something. But you didn't feel what you were supposed to when kissing someone. You weren't expecting fireworks. But a warm buzz would have been nice. To make matters worse, no; to make matters absolutely inadequate, you couldn't stop thinking of George.

Had he gone out? What was he thinking? What would he say when you got back? What if he kissed you like this?

"Wait." You breathed, sitting back.

"Are you alright?" Aureo asked, watching you lean way from him.

"Actually..." You bit your lip, glancing around the well-decorated room. You realizing you couldn't stay here. When you looked back to Aureo, he actually looked sad. Not just disappointed. Actually sad. You slumped forward, searching his eyes when he brought a gentle hand to your face.

"I'm so sorry." You meant, hoping he knew you did. "But I... I think I'd better go."

Aureo took a beat to wait for you to explain why, or say anything else at all. But you didn't. You couldn't.

"Okay." He nodded acceptingly, nudging you to stand with him.

The guy called you an Uber and refused your persistent offers to pay him back. When your ride came, you and the guy you'd met days ago shared a kiss on the cheek and a whispered goodbye. And it was almost sweet enough to make you think of staying a little longer.

But still, thoughts of George burned closer to the forefront of your mind, and you kept walking down the gravel driveway. You dared to steal one last glance over your shoulder, finding Aureo leaning against his doorway, giving you a sorry wave. The sight was almost somber enough to get you to spin on your heels and make it up to him. But you just opened the Uber door.

You realized how when you'd felt like saying goodbye to George you'd only wanted to kiss him. You realized you were relieved when he didn't meet up with Renee because you were used to having him all to yourself. You realized you wanted to keep it that way. You had been trying to push theses feelings deep down, but you had absolutely nothing left to lose at this point. You'd been drunk a lot on this trip, but you'd never felt braver than right now...

When you unlocked the hotel room door, you chanted silent prayers that George would be around. If you had to wait until tomorrow, you wouldn't be able to say what you had the guts to, right now. You didn't waste a beat as you marched straight toward the halfway shut door of the room George had been occupying. A soft light shone from inside.

You halted after pushing past the door, making your presence known. George was kicked back on his bed, reading, and he didn't seem a bit surprised to see you here and now.

"Okay. I have nothing left to lose. So I'm gonna say what I have to say. I didn't hook up with Aureo. I left. Because the whole time he touched me I was only thinking of you. Maybe that's fucked up but that's just the truth."

George listened from behind the crinkled pages of "A Perfect Day For Bananafish" keeping that frighteningly calm gaze on you, while you spilled your guts.

"So... so unless I've been misreading the dozens of signs, I think it's safe to gather that you'd like to kiss me. And if that's true, you should do it. Right now." You stated in one nervous breathe, frustrated by all the lingering gazes, little touches, and thoughts that had never been acted upon.

"No," George hesitated but demanded all at once, in the fabulously complex manner of his. He shut the book in his lap and moved slowly to the edge of the bed to stand, keeping an eye on you as you went on,

"You said I was perfectly kissable! And no one has ever looked at me like you keep looking at me. Even right now." Your throat grew tight as you addressed the expression on George's face. Why was he moving to stand so close to you if he didn't want to kiss you? For the first time, you saw a faint chip in the resolve of his usual composure. George's eyes grew full as he spoke in a voice thick with feeling,

"Because I don't want to be your rebound!"

"Well, what if you weren't!" There was no need to hide the way your tears bubbled over as you gaped at him. It was the only way you could get George to understand how you really felt. How you weren't playing devil's advocate. How this wasn't your usual banter. Your heart was on the line.

"Don't talk like that-" George looked afraid, like if you said something just right three times in a row it'd appear and he'd have no choice but to give in to the spell. You had a shred of bravery left in your throat and breathed out every word you could manage before the strength fizzled away.

"George! I like you! I liked you from the moment we got on the plane. I liked you in the Sistine Chapel. I like you now, and I don't see a way out of it and I don't want a way out of it- I want you to kiss me. I want to fly back home with you because I'll still like you when we get there."

George was slack-jawed, mystified by your monologue, and as soon as the words stopped coming, the vice around your throat tightened and your tears poured out all the emotion you'd been building up, but could no longer speak. You cried into your hands, feeling sorry for how pathetic you were, and sorry for thinking up this dumb idea to invite George along in the first place.

You could hardly breathe as you felt George's strong arms wrap around you. One secured around your middle, the other across your shoulder, totally encapsulating you. As much as it was a relief to have him so near, his closeness broke your heart all the same. You cried onto his nightshirt and clung to the collar, knowing full well you would have to apologize for all this later but grateful for the compassion he chose to show now.

He didn't speak as you managed your cries, he just held on to you for dear life. When you were reduced to sniffles, George pulled away, his deep blue eyes catching yours. He didn't speak then either. He just brushed a stray tear from your cheek and searched your features as you hoped and prayed you didn't look half as pathetic as you felt.

And right when enough time had passed for you to feel like speaking up, George gently pulled you across the room. He wordlessly pushed you toward the bed back against the mess of pillows and switched out the light. He then made his way round to the other side and met you in the middle.

The usual sliver of space between you and George was forgotten, as he settled right next to you. And without saying anything, he pressed a very soft kiss to the side of your face. George's lips lingered against your temple, for a beat longer than you'd expected, and with each passing nanosecond, your heartbeat stuttered between speeding up and sinking to the floor.

When George pulled your head to rest on his shoulder and kept a warm strong hand rested at the base of your neck, you could have cried again. But you knew better than to ruin the moment, and relaxed your frame against his, drifting to sleep.

___

You woke up to the sound of crashing waves and hollers from beachgoers off in the distance. You were in a big, empty bed, delicately tucked beneath covers you never remembered reaching for. When you registered George's absence, you took a moment to recall everything that happened last night.

How Colin had taken one last petty shot at getting a rise out of you. How you tried to give in to Aureo, and how the night ended without much of a bang. How you crashed into George's room, babbling confessions, all of them falling flat at your feet even though George was kind enough to pull you close, even just for a moment.

You heaved a heavy sigh, pushing yourself from the bed that wasn't yours, and slipping into the bathroom unnoticed. You brushed your teeth, and tightened the sheer cardigan around you that was meant to cover your skimpy outfit meant for last night, that you didn't even give a damn about anymore.

You found George happily humming away in the kitchen, making breakfast with some ingredients you'd picked up from La Boqueria days before.

You planned to silently sulk across the way to your room, but George stopped you, turning from the stove like a worried mother, informing he was making the best breakfast of his life and you'd be a fool to miss out. You knew that.

"I'm not hungry."

You were embarrassed. You floated away from the kitchen to your bedroom, wondering if you should start to pack your things. You hadn't expected the trip to be perfect, but you'd hardly prepared for it to go as wrong as it had.

You gathered a handful of discarded dresses, turning to find your suitcase, when you heard George ease into the room.

"What are you doing?" He asked in a hush.

"Packing." George stepped closer, halting in front of you. He looked right at you while he took the dresses from your grasp, discarding them on the floor. Funny, you finally got him to throw your clothes somewhere behind you. He was wearing that look again, the one that made your heart speed up and the world slow down all at once.

"I shouldn't have said anything at all last night, let alone freaked out. I'm sorry." You shied away from his gaze, feeling like a little girl. George let you but slowly moved to see your face once more.

"I'm sorry. I was afraid you were just... I don't know... not thinking clearly."

"Why are you sorry? I wasn't drunk, George. I was just being honest." You look down, feeling sick about how vulnerable you'd been. You sucked in a breath as you moved away in a daze, heading toward the desk where your suitcase was nestled in the corner. You couldn't think with George looming over you with his sleep tangled hair and intense expressions.

As you traced your fingers along the grain of the desk you gazed out of the window to a palm tree that covered much of the view of the beach.

"Y/n..."

George's voice crept up the back of your spine. You turned from the desk, gripping the edge for security as George came to face you again.

How had you ended up here? Thoughts flickered into your head but flickered away when George locked his dazzling blue eyes with yours. He placed either of his hands on the side of the desk just beside where yours found real estate. George was eye level with you now and he was searching your face with his starry eyes that were closer than ever. And slow, like sunrise, he leaned in closer.

George pressed his lips against yours as slowly and sweetly as he'd kissed your temple last night. Before you could lose yourself to the feeling, you rose a hand to George's chest and held it there, so he hesitantly pulled away.

"Please don't kiss me just because I asked you too." You sighed, eyes still screwed shut. You could have done that one thousand more times, but not out of pity. When you dared to open your eyes, you found George patiently waiting to meet your gaze.

"I wanted to." George spoke, softly. "I've wanted to kiss you like that since you freaked out on the plane to Rome. I wanted to kiss you at all those museums and every time you've told a lame joke since then. And I'll still want to kiss you when we get back home. I like you, too."

George echoed your monologue from the night before, with his own twist. His voice was low and gentle but full of assuredness. His eyes stayed glued on yours while your heart threatened to beat out of your chest as he went on speaking. And when he was finished, you just stood there, gaping at him. Trying to wrap your head around his words and the action preceded them.

George looked at you in that way he did. In that way no one ever had before.

Lifting his hand toward your face, he slowly trailed a finger across your jaw, letting his thumb land on your chin. Your lips subtly parted, and George fixed his gaze on your mouth as a smirk bloomed across his. Then, he leaned in to kiss you again. But this time was very different. Your mouths opened against each other's and your fingers unlatched from their grip on the table behind you.

Your fingers curled around his neck as George let his fingers slowly creep down your sides, until they reached your hips. Without breaking the kiss, he shifted you onto the desk you leaned against, closing the gap between the two of you. It was a gesture you'd been dreaming of that was far more electric than your imagination made it out to be.

"I'm sorry it took me till now to do this." George breathed, his lips brushing against yours not daring to miss a second of contact.

"Better late than never, huh?" You grinned, nudging your nose against George and looking up into his pretty eyes.

"That's the spirit." He chuckled softly, barely finishing the sentence before his lips were on yours again. One of his hands stayed pressed against your back, assuring you were held against him, while his other tangled in your hair. George kissed you in a way that made you wonder what you'd been doing till now.

"I never dreamed you'd wanted more than wreckless fun." George spoke, as he trailed his kisses down your neck. And though you weren't too keen to stop his actions, his words held more of an impact.

You grabbed a handful of George's golden hair and pulled to make his eyes look right in yours.

"I do want to have wreckless fun. With you. For a long, long time." You confessed. No more secretly longing gazes and careful touches, hoping your multitude of feelings might have been conveyed.

"So back to London together it is then, yeah?" George picked you up from the desk with a cheeky grin.

"Just long enough to plan our next adventure." You suggested through a giggling as he tossed you onto the bed you'd been occupying.

George smiled the loveliest smile you'd ever seen as he crawled over the top of you and reached for the string that tied your coverup together.

"Shall we pick up where we left off then?" George leaned in to purr in your ear, letting his fingers trail across your thigh.

How was something so new and exciting so familiar? You decided not to think about it, and dove back in for another kiss.

___

That's how you spent the rest of the day and the entire night, never too far from right beside George. As your reality settled into the daydream scenario you never expected to come true, you found nothing much had really changed.

You'd spent this whole trip together, consulting over the best wine to order over dinner and arguing over what the best tv show of all time was. So while spending a day in bed at George's side left you starry-eyed, his company was familiar. And that was the best part of all.

You went on, making each other laugh like normal. Sharing old forgotten stories and thinking up new ones. George listened, as you whispered into the late, late night, like kids at a slumber party.

Waking up to his limbs pinning you lazily to the mattress even felt familiar, like something you should have been used to for a while now.

And reluctant as you both were to come out from under the sheets, it was your last full day in Barcelona. So after some careful consideration over breakfast coffee, you and George picked a handful of things to do from the list you'd created months in advance.

The first stop was lunch. You would miss the food in Spain most of all. You even took a few photos of the beautifully plated tapas you'd ordered and posted it to Instagram right away, using some over the top caption and everything.

After a frustrating morning chat, your bank informed you that it would be a few business days until your account was all sorted out. So, because of that and the fact that you only had a few euros left, you let George pay for lunch, who acted as if his evil plan had come to fruition. He'd hadn't stopped trying to cover bills since the first night in Rome.

Then you proceeded to muck about the city like kids on a residential trip. You went from hilltops to fountains to a couple of markets you'd been to before, marveling over all the sights and sounds of the city. You took more photos during the afternoon romp through the city than you had the whole trip. You sent some straight to Instagram and some to your mother. But mostly, you tossed your phone right back in your bag so you could turn your attention to George. To focus on the way his smile grew while he spoke, before laughing too hard to finish his sentence. To revel in the feeling of his hand holding yours. Feeling a little luckier every time he stole a kiss in quiet parts of art galleries and around city street corners.

He eventually coaxed you into a big fancy dinner you absolutely couldn't afford, taking a long way there to enjoy the last purply golden sunset in Barcelona. The sun beamed across streets, like it didn't dare go down without a fight. In between a designer clothing shop and another row of businesses covered in blossoming vines, George stalled, turning to face you.

"Stay right here." He held your shoulders in place nodding before rushing out of view. You laughed to yourself, standing in the place you'd been made to. Before you could get lost in thoughts of how lucky this trip turned out to be, George came back around the corner with two strangers in tow.

He enlisted them to take a photo of the two of you together, George explaining that the one from outside the museums in Rome wasn't enough. You handed your phone to the older gentleman George had roped into being your photographer while his wife stood looking at a map, glancing up to smile at you all every now and again. George wasn't even looking toward the camera when it came time to.

The old man took surprisingly good snapshots, you found, after thanking him for taking a minute to indulge George. He really was hard to say no to. There were four photos, each great from the start, better than the last. They featured George with one arm loosely wrapped around you, his focus on you entirely. You tried, but clearly couldn't quite look at the camera either, with the way George’s smile drew you in. They weren't quite candid, with the way George must have planned to be so engrossed by you.

"These are the best so far." You hummed, scrolling to admire them each.

"I have no idea if they're Instagram worthy or not, but I like them very much."

"Oh, Insta would eat these up." You laughed, but you really do mean it. They were perfectly rose-colored on their own, no filter needed. After tossing your phone away, you'd started your walk back up, the big fancy restaurant you'd choosen for dinner coming into view in the horizon.

"Then you should post them," George said, keeping his pace in time with yours, nearly to the doors of the last stop on your getaway. You figured you'd be sad when the night wound to an end. But something magnificent burned below the surface, a promise that this was only the beginning of better days.

"Are you sure? You wouldn't mind?" You asked cautiously. George had steered clear of social media for a reason. Posting something that so blatantly put George on display seemed sinful, especially regarding the photos in question; with the way you were attached to his hip. Posting those was a very big deal for a multitude of reasons.

"Well someone's gotta get the word out that we're a packaged deal now, and I'm not very well equipped. I could phone the paparazzi, since I'm so bloody famous and all, but I'd rather not." George boasted, climbing the steps of the big fancy restaurant with a coy grin on his pretty face.

"Wow. You really are lame." You joked, nudging his shoulder with yours as you passed through the golden entryway.

After you ordered meals, you opened your favorite application and fretted over a caption for the photos you were about to post. The photos of you and George bathed in the setting sunlight, your smiles somehow the brighter.

George helped, well, he made you laugh. And after tossing out a dozen ridiculous quips, you decided to keep all your best one-liners and let the photos speak for themselves. And on the walk back to the hotel you phoned your mother to save her from having a cow when you showed up at the airport with George still by your side.

Because it had been settled, over late-night conversation that slipped into a recurring topic during the day. George would come home with you. He kept saying something about not wanting to waste another secomd sitting far apart in the same room. He kept saying how lucky he felt to have you, how he'd always hoped the outcome of your acquaintance would blossom into something more. How he felt like he'd been waiting for you longer than he knew your name.

George rambled about his future. About some of the films, he was up for. How far away he'd be for some of them. He asked you to join him. To stay for a while, wherever he ended up. How he wanted you to be a part of his life.

You agreed without having to think too much about it. You always wanted someone to see the world with. You always wanted to greet someone at the end of long days. You couldn't see your future without George. You could hardly remember how you managed life before him, anyway.

On the plane back home, you were both too busy dreaming up your lives together to freak out when the ride rocketed into the sky. You watched the same movie and got shushed by the same businessman when your laughter got too loud.

And when you sleepily lingered at the baggage claim with your head rested on George's shoulder, nothing felt new and exciting. It felt normal and right.

And when you spotted your mother waiting for you in the pickup area, she was all smiles. You hadn't expected her to freak out, but you were a little nervous that she'd make much too big of a deal about who you were bringing home. But she looked calm, content even, when she reached out to greet you with a hug.

"Mom, this is George." You turned to the man in question, watching his ocean eyes linger on you for a beat as his grin stretched into a smile.

"I know." Your mother smiled too, then turned to him, reaching out for a hug. "I've read all about you in the papers and things." She chuckled just as George happily hugged her back.

You and George both threw your heads back in a shared bout of laughter. Your mother worried that she'd said something wrong, but you just assured her that George was even better in real life than all his charming interviews.

On the ride home, you fill her in on some of the details of your wild trip. George did too, and when he spoke you could tell your mother started to understand what you said at the airport. How George's complex expressions and soft-spoken manner weren't something you could properly capture on a morning talk show. How his presence seemed magical. How whatever you might expect him to say was never what you got, but better.

He made everything better. Even the things you couldn't seem to find the good parts of. Even the demolished bits of planning that remained of what was meant to be your honeymoon.

You found out that everything happened how it was supposed to. Even though going home to what you left behind seemed daunting and dense with negativity, there was a bright shining silver lining beaming from the smile George wore when you made him laugh over and over on the way home, together.

───※ ·❆· ※───

#george mackay #george mackay x reader #george mackay imagine #george mackay fanfic

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sprnklersplashes · 4 years

Text

written in ink (cadnis one-shot)

Ever since Janis could read, she's known one of the biggest plot twists in Harry Potter. Not because she worked it out, but because it's been tattooed on her skin all her life. Her soulmate spoiled Dumbedore's death for her.

The AU where the first words you hear your soulmate say are tattooed on your body, Cadnis style.

Since she was old enough to read, Janis had wondered what her soulmate’s first words to her could mean. It’s pretty scary, especially for a kid, knowing that the first words you ever hear your soulmate saying will be about someone dying. She’s puzzled over who the future death might be even more than she has about who her future soulmate might be. She doesn’t want to ask her parents for fear it’s someone close to them, nor does she think to look it up at her young age and so for the first few years of her life her world is dominated by one, huge, unavoidable question; who in her future dies, and what they are to her soulmate.

But then she’s old enough to know about Harry Potter, and she doesn’t need to wonder any more.

Her soulmate tattoo, etched in black across her ribs, reads I just can’t believe Dumbledore died.

She got two pages into Philosopher’s Stone before she made the connection and flung the book across her bedroom, her eyes popping out of her head and her jaw on the floor. The first question on her mind is “what kind of insane author kills off the main character’s mentor?”, but soon she’ll learn that frankly, that is the least of JK Rowling’s problems. The second question is “so… my soulmate is into Harry Potter?”. And then the third question comes slowly, creeping into her brain with tentative steps and simmering excitement, “so when do I get to meet them?”.

She doesn’t get a quick answer to that last one.

It’s a bit of a pain really, having a major spoiler to everyone’s favourite book series permanently written on her body. For one, there’s always a surge of pity in her chest when she sees people with the books, oblivious to the impending death of a beloved parental figure. Like God’s cursed her with forbidden knowledge that places her above her classmates, where she can watch them live in blissful ignorance until they reach the fated book or movie or just Google it because they’re too impatient. Janis is denied that luxury, her knowing of events yet to come too much for her to even give the books a chance. They’re not worth the way her heart clenches painfully in her chest whenever the wise old wizard comes in.

Okay that was an exaggeration. There are far better books out there that she’s happy to read. But that doesn’t change how the words seem to burn on her skin. No one likes spoilers after all. So when she changes before PE it’s in half the time it takes the other girls and she covers it up with make-up during the summer. And then kids start to get nosy and what should be an intimate secret is tossed around carelessly, and she starts teaching herself the art of lying.

Regina’s the one who asks first. They’re 12 and it’s a sleepover and she’s sprawled across her bed, her chin resting on her closed fist, her eyes glinting dangerously in the half-light.

“Okay Janis. Truth or dare.”

“Truth,” she chooses. She’s not scared of dares, but she’s smart enough to know better than to take a dare from her.

“Okay,” she says, her lips curling into a sly smirk, one that makes Janis bite on the inside of her cheek and wish she could take it back. Sometimes she forgets how slippery Regina can be, especially on days like today when she’s been nothing but bouncy and fun and kind. She forgot that this side to her best friend even existed, the side that takes jokes too far and tries to pry Janis open like she’s a treasure chest. All that comes back to her when she tosses her perfect hair over her shoulder and raises her eyebrow, and she’s reminded that sometimes she doesn’t actually like hanging out with Regina.

She’s also reminded that she hates Truth or Dare.

“What does your soulmate tattoo say?”

“That’s private,” Janis reminds her, hugging the pillow tighter against her chest. “You’re only meant to tell your soulmate.”

“I know,” she scoffs, rolling off the bed and shuffling towards Janis. “But everyone tells people. And if you can’t tell me, your best friend, who can you tell?” Her tone is like the satin sheets on her bed, soft and comforting and familiar that Janis almost falls for it and tells her. Besides, Regina doesn’t even read Harry Potter, right? So it’s not like she would care… But other people might. And Regina might tell other people. Or Gretchen. Or Karen. Most likely Karen. And Karen could tell who-knows-who, who could tell who-knows-who, and then before she knows it she’s ruined Harry Potter for her entire grade. And then anything could happen to her. Taylor Wedell got her head shoved in a toilet for spoiling the end of Gossip Girl. And Janis really likes her head.

“I’m not telling, Regina,” she says, shrugging. “I’m sorry. That’s private.”

But there’s no word Regina George hates more than ‘no’. Her eyes narrow and her face falls into a pout even as she shrugs it off, telling Janis that she’s making a big deal out of nothing and if she won’t tell her that’s her problem. Janis tries to make it up to her, saying that she can ask anything else, but Regina won’t listen, deciding she wants to braid Karen’s hair instead.

They spend the rest of the night in a prickly silence and it takes a week before Regina returns to normal after that.

Damian is her next friend and he’s far better company than Regina is. He shows her his tattoo of his own volition, proudly extending his arm so she can see the words ‘can you do that again?’ written there in a rushed scribble. He confesses that he’s compared it with every other boy’s notes in their year, trying to see if he’s already met his other half and just forgot.

“I don’t think you can do that,” she tells him as they walk home from school one day, aged fourteen. “My mom said that when my dad first spoke to her it changed everything else. Like the minute she heard those words, nothing else mattered. She described it as some flower opening up in her chest.” She rolls her eyes a little, unsure if she’s inclined to believe all that. “It was really poetic.”

“Sounds beautiful,” he remarks, kicking up a pile of leaves. “Is that why you won’t tell me yours?”

“Sort of,” she sighs. “Hey, do you like Harry Potter?”

“I guess,” he replies. “I mean I’m more of a fan of the lore than of the books itself, what’s your house, I’m a Hufflepuff-”

It’s months later when they watch the sixth movie for the first time. The two of them on the sofa in Damian’s basement, Janis half-paying attention, half-working on a drawing. Damian is on the edge of the couch, his eyes wide and his hand slapping Janis’ leg every ten minutes. Despite telling herself she doesn’t care, she does, but it isn’t in the way Damian thinks she does. Her heart hammers against her ribs through the whole movie and nearly stops in every scene Dumbledore is in as she wonders if this is it, the moment she’s had carved into her skin her whole life.

She lets out a loud, relieved “finally!” when he eventually up and dies, prompting Damian to turn to her with his mouth open and his eyebrows shot up to the ceiling, a silent ‘Janis, what the fuck’ on his face.

And it’s then she tells him, tells him about the words on her chest and the secret she’s kept and how someone she’s never met ruined one of the biggest franchises in pop culture for her.

Damian laughs so hard his cat has to run over and check he’s not dead.

*****

Janis sits on her desk in the art room, studying her piece from every new angle she can find. Not many people are in, given that it’s only the second week of junior year, which gives her a space to work on her own. Thanks to her spending the better part of her freshman and sophomore lunch periods in here, the art teacher gives her free range over the place and leaves for her cigarette breaks when she comes in, telling her not to touch anything and help herself to the cookies in her drawer but not to tell anyone else. And with just two seniors in and devoted to their work, she sits on the desk, her foot on the chair and a paintbrush between her fingers, trying to find the right colour.

“Good morning starshine!” Damian sings, earning him glares from the seniors. “Ooft, tough crowd.”

“They’re trying to focus,” she tells him, handing him a cookie. Sure Miss Peters said not to give the cookies to anyone, but Damian’s not anyone.

“My apologies to them,” he says in a low voice, leaning against the table and taking in her newest piece, a mermaid with flowing black hair and delicate purple eyes, the little fangs on her mouth the only allusion to the danger she holds. “That’s cool.”

“You think?” she replies, pride thumping in her chest.

“I know,” he says firmly, a smile on his face and the kind of wholesome honesty that only moms, grandmas and Damian Hubbard know how. “Did you hear the tea?”

“What?” She avoids school gossip like the plague, knowing all too well how it feels to be on the receiving end, but if Damian is telling her it’s either important, completely harmless or hilarious.

“There’s a new girl in our grade,” he tells her. So it’s the first one. “The student activities committee was telling me. Apparently she moved here from…. Kenyaaaa…” He drags the ‘a’ out for as long as his mighty lungs will allow, wiggling his eyebrows for dramatic effect.

“That’s neat,” she remarks, secretly getting a kick of Damian’s wounded puppy ‘why aren’t you appreciating my dramatics’ face. It’s a little more than neat, new kids aren’t really common in North Shore, especially ones from Kenya. “What’s her name?”

“Katie Heron, apparently,” he says. He opens his mouth to say more but he’s cut short by the bell ringing, ending their free period. With a sigh, Janis places her picture back in her folder and tucks it under her arm. Damian skips along beside her, filling her in on the whispers of the drama department about the upcoming musical and telling her he’s secured a room for their LGBTQ+ club movie night on Friday. She chats along, suggesting some more movies to add to their list and agrees what snacks to bring and asks him to get a list of dietary requirements from everyone. The normal kind of stuff that she deals with on normal school days.

But in the very very back of her mind, the name ‘Katie Heron’ sticks, and she’s not entirely sure why.

As fate would have it, she sees the new girl at lunch. It’s pure chance, she just happens to look up at the right moment in the right direction and sees an unfamiliar face in the cafeteria. And quite frankly, she’s pretty. She’s tiny, impossibly tiny, as in a kind of tiny that should probably not be legal, with long, caramel-coloured hair, braided at the top and the rest falling past her shoulders. She’s not too far away from her and she can see the wide smile on her face, innocent and excited, dimples in her rosy cheeks, and while she can’t see what colour her eyes are, she can see them lighting up as she looks around the cafeteria. She stands out, even in her cargo shorts and plaid shirt. Like the rest of the cafeteria-including Janis- was drawn in pencil but she was drawn in pen.

There’s something in her gut, something pushing her to go say hi, maybe invite her to sit with them even though that wouldn’t be normal for her. Damian’s the one who does that anyway and she’s just the arm candy. There’s no reason she should single this girl out other than the fact that she’s new. And she looks a little lonely, wandering around tables, her neck craning for an empty seat. Maybe Damian can do the talking and she can just smile.

Janis very nearly does approach her. She pushes herself up and makes to head in her direction. But one thing, one crucial thing, stops her.

Regina. Regina slides up to the new girl with a beaming smile and a no-doubt sweet, breathy voice, touching new girl-Katie’s-shoulder and tugging on her arm, asking her to come have lunch when them at their table, all the way on the other side of the cafeteria. She happily agrees and Regina links arms with her and escorts her away from the art freaks and towards Plastic Land, where Regina’s word is the word of God. She can tell her anything and New Girl will believe her.

Janis slumps back down, a cold, heavy weight in her stomach. She scoffs at herself and shakes her head, no clue why she’s so upset, since she doesn’t even know her. Damian’s eyes meet hers and he pats her shoulder sympathetically, a ‘maybe next time’ said softly to her. But when she spies her at the Plastic’s table amongst the pink and gold, she wonders with a heavy heart if there will be a next time.

She crosses paths with the new girl three times in the following week. During that week she learns that her name is Cady with a C, a D and a Y, not Katie. She also learns that she’s taking AP calculus, she really likes math and that she used to live with animals. She also works out that she’s in her French class but was sick that day, and that the empty seat captured her attention more than anything their teacher said did.

She’s also learning that she might be becoming a stalker.

“So are you going to talk to her?” Damian asks her during gym.

“Why would I?” she replies, slowing down her pace once she’s out of the coach’s vision.

“Because you like her,” she replies, drawing out the ‘like’ for as long as his lungs will allow, as though the longer he says it the more Janis likes her.

“I don’t even know her,” she reminds him. “You probably know her better than I do.”

“Yes, and I know you better than you know you. So I know you like her.” She rolls her eyes, unable to find it in her to correct him. It’s not untrue. “I also watched you obsessively stalk her Instagram and Facebook accounts for a solid thirty minutes so...”

“Oh stop,” she scoffs, laughter in her voice. “You didn’t stop me so that’s 90% on you.”

“Oh so I have to steer you straight?”

“Well that would be an accomplishment,” she grins. “Considering.”

“Hubbard, Sarkisian!” the coach barks at them from the middle of the field. “Pick up the pace and stop the chatting or it’s two more laps!”

They speed ahead and lower their voices, privately discussing what they think of the coach and his new shorts and what they’d like to do to his head with those dodgeballs.

*****

By Friday, Janis has almost forgotten about her crush-that’s-not-a-crush on Cady. Well, she’s not forgotten it but she’s put it to the side. Well, not to the side, but it’s away for now. Well, not away but… Cady wasn’t the first thing on her mind when she woke up, so she’s calling it progress.

At least the LGBT+ movie night provides a welcome distraction. They only have the hall for the next few hours, just enough time for Pride and Love, Simon and finishing off with a few episodes of One Day At A Time, which is a cheat, since they’re not movies, but they’re the only thing short enough to fill the remaining time.

Janis takes charge of snacks while Sonja and Sophie argue with the IT guy over how to use the projector, Sophie’s hand on her girlfriend’s shoulder, pulling her down when she gets too heated. Janis tries not to wonder if her girlfriend will do that for her one day. She’s trying to banish all thoughts of romance entirely, but Sonja is leaning on Sophie and holding her hand as they look at the computer together and it makes Janis’ chest ache and images of a certain brunette creep into her mind.

The more she tries not to think about Cady, the more she does, so much so that when the doors open and Cady jumps in with the Mathletes and their matching jackets, Janis is half-sure she’s imagining it.

And then she panics.

“Holy crap,” she whispers, slapping Damian’s shoulder again and again until he acknowledges her. “Damian, Damian, Damian!” There’s a knot in her stomach and a familiar feeling of being pulled towards her, like there’s an invisible rope around her waist.

“I see her!” he replies, grabbing her hand both to comfort her and stop her from slapping him again. His hands come around her shoulders, straightening her back and holding her up as Cady wanders over in their direction. Her eyes happen to find them and her face breaks into a smile, and for an insane moment, Janis thinks she’s smiling at her. Which would be ridiculous because they’ve never said one word to each other. The only reason she might smile at her is if she was being extra-friendly or if she was her-

No, she tells herself sternly. Not the S word.

“Oh, Janis, Damian!” Kevin hollers, jumping down the hall to them with the rest of his crew. Janis wipes her hand on her shorts, giving what she hopes is a normal smile. “Hey, what’s up?”

“Hey Kev,” Damian replies, offering a high-five.

“You guys met my girl Cady?” he asks, gesturing to her. Met is a funny word in this scenario. I wish is the response Janis thinks but doesn’t say out loud.

“We haven’t had the pleasure,” Damian replies, eyeing Janis and grinning. “Hubbard comma Damian. This is my amusing sidekick, Sarkisian comma Janis.” His introduction makes Cady laugh and it sounds like a bell ringing or part of a melody being played.

“We’re introducing her to American pop culture,” Marwan adds just as Cady is opening her mouth to speak. She closes it, a pleasant expression on her face but her hand is clenched into a tight fist. “But we need a break from Harry Potter. That’s too dark. We watched Half-Blood Prince and oof” He makes a cutting-your-head-off gesture with his hand, his features twisted into over-dramatic "yikes". Cady nods along enthusiastically and opens her mouth, a sense of urgency in her face, as though one might cut her off, and Janis is almost excited to hear her. Holy crap, is this having it bad?

“I just can’t believe Dumbledore died!” she exclaims. "I mean who does that?"

Holy shit.

Holy fucking shit.

It doesn’t happen the way Janis’ mom described it. Rather than a flower blooming in her chest it’s a truck hitting her at full speed and sending her flying, her mind turning to static at those words and the pieces don’t even have time to connect in her brain before she yells-

“It’s you! You’re the one!” And at that, Cady’s mouth falls open and her eyes bulge as her hand flies to her forearm. For years, this girl has occupied Janis’ mind, and now she’s face to face with her, and in her most dire moment, rational thought has abandoned her. “You ruined Harry Potter for me!”

“Well… that’s not how I thought this was going to go down,” she mumbles, her pale cheeks turning pink.

As she comes back to herself, Janis looks around her, finding a face looking at her everywhere she turns. Some are amused, some shocked, some annoyed, some confused. But they surround her and the room starts closing in on her, making her feel like caged animal in a zoo, a spectacle for people to discuss over lunch. It’s a familiar feeling all right.

Her eyes meet Cady’s, terrified brown meeting bewildered blue and alongside the heavy cloud of embarrassment and the jagged anxiety, she feels a stab of guilt for doing this to her and it all threatens to crush her. So she does what feel most normal for her.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, and she finds herself running towards the doors and out into the hallway.

“Janis, wait!” Cady calls after her, her sneakers squeaking on the polished floors. She catches up to where Janis is standing, taking in deep breaths and pulling herself back together. Cady hovers in front of her, unsure of what to do, which isn’t what Janis expected. Shouldn’t soulmates just know?

“Sorry,” she repeats, straightening up. “Sorry I shouldn’t have flipped out like that.”

“S’okay,” she replies with a shrug, tapping her toe against the floor. She gives her an adorably sheepish look, one that makes Janis want to hold her tight forever. “Sorry I ruined Harry Potter for you.”

“Oh it’s fine,” she scoffs. “Seriously. Percy Jackson’s the superior children’s series. I wasn’t losing sleep over it.”

“I’ll make a note to read those,” she says softly, stepping a little closer to her. When she looks up at her, Janis feels it. The feeling her mom told her about. The flower opens in her chest and her worries begin to fade at the edges. Right now is the moment she begins hoping and daring to be brave, which is new for her. But there’s something, always something, or rather someone that looms over her and threatens it, even when she’s not physically here. She got her claws into Cady first and Janis can’t not be freaked out by that.

“I don’t know what you’ve heard,” she begins.

“I’ve not heard anything,” is what Cady replies in a firm voice. “Not anything worth repeating.”

“You haven’t?” Janis asks. The urge to pick at her nails rises in her. “Because… I know people-”

“Regina?” she says. She stuffs her hands into the back pockets of her jeans, her expression half-smile, half-grimace. “Yeah. She told me stuff. But…”

“But?” That makes her laugh again, and even though it’s soft and more of a breath, it’s beautiful to her.

“But you know… I’m not going to trust someone who uses slurs that freely,” she says, quirking an eyebrow. “Or who keeps a burn book about other people.” It takes a lot of self-control not for Janis not to hug her right now. Her anxiety dissolves almost entirely, replaced by feelings that are new and exciting and safe, above everything else. She feels safe with her. Maybe that’s what a soulmate means. Having someone be your safety net.

“You know…” she begins, sneaking a glance back inside the gym, where the movie has already started playing. “These things are great, but they seem to have it under control. Maybe you and I could go to the diner down the street? Get some milkshakes? Hang out? Talk a little?”

“I’d love that,” Cady replies, her cheeks pink and her eyes sparkling. She bites her lip and after a moment’s hesitation, holds out her hand. Her face is expectant but her fingers wiggle nervously. Her fingernails are painted green and on her wrist is a braided leather bracelet. Her hand looks soft and tiny and perfectly suited to hers, just like Cady herself, she supposes.

After more than a moment’s hesitation, Janis takes it, and nothing before has ever felt so right.

#cadnis #cady x janis #cady heron #janis sarkisian #paint by numbers #mean girls ff #mean girls broadway #cadnis ff #should i do one from cady's pov? yes? no? no one cares áine?

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headquarters90 · 4 years

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Meetings (Warrior of the Crown 7)

Pairing: Darkiplier x French Goddess!Reader

Words: 1,354

Warnings: N/A

Series Masterlist

A/N: This one is a little shorter than the other ones but I got to a certain part and didn’t feel the need to continue from there so, yeah. Jade Darrow

“So, cousin dear, why have you called upon us?” Jean-Louis spoke sarcastically and you glanced over at him before shifting on your feet. “Also, why is as…Ares here?”

“Y/N?” Bellatrix raised an eyebrow at you and you lifted your eyes to her. “What’s going on?”

“Hypatia showed up last night,” you started, ruffling your hair, “and Ares was under her control so he’ll need a necklace too, which is why he’s here.”

“But that’s not all, is it?” Hades spoke and you shook your head. “What else, sweetheart?”

“I think we may have mistaken who we thought the Warriors of the Past were referring too,” you answered, your eyes shifted towards the entities in question.

Dark had an annoyed look across his face as he stood there, his arms crossed as he watched you.

Anti looked uncomfortable standing next to Dark, glancing between him and you.

“What do you mean?” Iris questioned as Bellatrix furrowed her eyebrows at the statement and Angel looked towards the entities.

“When I fainted that time during training, the Warriors of the Past spoke to me and told me that I had a possible lover closer to age and training beside me, someone I least expected,” you explained. “We thought it was Dark because of that other training incident.”

“If it wasn’t Dark, who?” Emma tilted her head at you and you shifted on your feet as you looked towards her.

“We discovered last night when Hypatia had Ares attacked me. I was still weak at the time so my reflexes were slow and…Anti pulled me away in time,” you answered.

“And you keep ignoring anything dealing with feelings for Dark,” Juliette snorted and you gave your cousin a dull look. “Y/N, if Dark wasn’t the one they were referring too, that means you fell in love with him.” She raised an eyebrow at you as you stared at her, ignoring the snort that came from Sébastian.

“We’re not discussing this.”

“Actually, we are,” Makaria pointed out and you gave her a dull look. “It’s the reason you called us here, actually.”

“She’s not wrong,” Jackie shrugged.

“It’s obvious who you’d choose if you had too,” Isabelle butted in and you let out a sigh, rubbing your forehead.

“I’m going to continue studying,” you muttered, turning to walk towards the dining room before you were narrowing your eyes at Apollo who had a grin on his face. “Don’t.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I didn’t say anything.”

“You thought it.”

“So, maybe I did. Hello, Dark.”

You glanced behind you at the glowering entity before raising an eyebrow at Apollo who fell into step with you.

“So, what are we studying today?”

“You’re a pain.”

Apollo grinned at that, his eyes moving to the table filled with books before they returned to you, raising an eyebrow.

“Avoiding the library again? Makes sense. My brother is here. Let’s pray Aphrodite doesn’t show or we’ll have more trouble,” he voiced and you rolled your eyes, watching as Dark resumed his spot from earlier.

“Aphrodite showing is the least of my concerns,” you said, moving towards the table. “You’re a distraction so your help isn’t needed.”

“Oh, I’m the distraction?” Apollo raised his eyebrows in the direction of Dark and a scowl found your lips.

“Yes, because all you do is talk,” Dark deadpanned, his eyes glancing up at him.

“And yet, it’s ironic when it’s you she’s in love with.”

“Apollo,” you scowled and a smirk came across Apollo’s lips as he returned his gaze on you.

“Just proving my point, sweetheart.”

“Flirting with a brother’s ex, are we now, Apollo?”

You flew your hands up before they rested on your temple, pressing down ever-so-slightly, closing your eyes.

You regretted closing your eyes, however. Your senses, trained to pick up the littlest of noises in case you lost your sight, had the bickering between Apollo and Ares louder than what it was and it was worsen your headache – why were you getting those so often all of a sudden? From the use of the abilities maybe?

“Goddess.”

Hearing his deep voice, your eyes opened, looking towards him as he gestured you over to him. Allowing your feet to move, you soon found yourself close to him.

“Don’t touch but look.”

Eyes falling where he was pointing on the page, your eyes soon glided over the sentence, furrowing your eyebrows.

“An Ijiraq was one of the hardest to turn to the darkness? I can see why a Djinn might but an Ijiraq?” You voiced, your eyes lifting to Dark’s. “Ijirait are shapeshifters that would kidnap children, hide them, and abandon them. Djinns can be responsible for misfortune, possession, and diseases but they can also be supportive and benevolent sometimes.”

“You are well versed,” Dark commented and you gave him a dull look before it fell at the slight tug on his lips.

“I need to have Auntie try to get a hold of the Inuit’s Gods, see if they know of a Seraphina,” you spoke, leaning over the table to look at the book. “Sébastian.”

“I’m being graced with the mission?” Sébastian raised an eyebrow and you lifted your eyes to him. “Right, one of two that you trust to deliver so and one can barely leave your palace.”

“He’s allowed to do as he pleases. He chosen not to.”

“Who would choose to leave you?” He smirked at you and you rolled your eyes. “I shall be back with news?”

“Please.”

“You know, prince-”

“Don’t even finish that sentence,” you chirped in, shifting through paperwork. “You no longer can call me that.”

“Still upset about-”

“Must I remind you, I broke up with you, Ares.” Lifting your eyes, you met his blue ones, watching annoyance flash through them. “Please, leave me to work. Unlike some people, I have a city to maintain on top of everything else I do. I don’t have time for your chitchat.”

“Always hated you in this attire.”

You waved him off, your eyes dropping to your tablet of a reminder of a meeting with someone in a few minutes. Standing, you made your way out the door, stopping at a chest coming into view before lifting your eyes to meet Dark’s.

“Are you needing something? I have a meeting to get to.”

“Business meeting?” Dark raised an eyebrow at you and you let out a soft sigh.

“I don’t know. Excuse me.”

“I’m curious to see how you work.”

Your eyes glanced back at him, noticing he was following you, and scrunched up your nose before entering the throne room.

“What are you doing here?” Dark deadpanned and you lifted your head, meeting green eyes that held a wicked glint.

“I can come and goes as I please. I am one of her best friends after all,” Ivy replied with a wicked smirk. “Anyways, Flinn has business to speak to you about, Y/N.”

Raising your eyes to the King of Sins, you watched as respect flash through his eyes before nodding his head with a smirk.

“Nice to officially meet you, Y/N. I can see why the Source choose you as the Warrior of the Crown,” Flinn commented, his eyes flirting over to Dark, and a hum left his lips. “The Source works wonders, didn’t it?”

“What are you wishing to speak to me about?” You questioned as his eyes turned to yours.

“They could be stronger than what we think,” he started, “As you know, I speak to the Source directly and I was to keep an eye on them but they’ve stayed under the radar until now. There’s a chance they’ve been training for this moment. A good chance since it was only recently that the Warriors were where they needed to be.”

“There’s also a good chance she’ll be trying to get her husband back.”

“No, Y/N,” Flinn spoke and you lifted your eyes to his, watching as he took a deep breath. “She’s wanting revenge.”

“And we’ll be ready.”

“She wants to take away your lovers, Y/N. She plans on putting you at risk of turning to the darkness.”

#darkiplier x reader #darkiplier #warrior of the crown series #darkiplier x goddess!reader #darkiplier x french!goddess!reader

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ohmystarsy · 4 years

Text

all the tag games I’ve been tagged in in the last few months

as the title says - I’ve finally found some quiet time to do all of them, thank you all for tagging me!!! it is always a pleasure and I LOVE those tag games, just life has been really busy recently, even more so during that whole pandemic thing.

I put all of them under read more, bc there’s A LOT of text. the tag games include:

name ten favourite characters from ten different things, tagged by @majoris

name your seven comfort movies, tagged by @majoris and @natowe

quarantine Q&A, tagged by @ithilnarmo

20 questions about yourself, tagged by @jennyyfishh

I was tagged by @majoris for name ten favorite characters from ten different things (tv, movies, books, etc.), then tag ten people.

favourites are the worst! but I will try my best neverthless.

Eames from “Inception” (idk, he is flirty af but also has rly bad taste in clothes and I love that; it might be also Tom Hardy thing tho)

Thor from MCU (just. the kindest of Avengers? says women rights? struggles with what it means to be “worthy”? pls)

Cahir Mawr Dyffryn aep Ceallach from “The Witcher” (I just love evil blonds with redemptions arcs who suffer throughout the whole series bc they made some bad mistakes in the past; also yes I have always headcanoned him as blond, idk why)

Leia Organa from “Star Wars” (an Icon, what else should I add?)

James Flint from “Black Sails” (gay pirate disaster that we all deserved and it was given)

Clara Oswald from “Doctor Who” (idk I just always related to het the most from all companions that I’ve seen. I love her fearlessness, her bossy side and that she takes no bullshit from the Doctor)

Sansa Stark from “Game of Thrones” (I hate what the show did to her, but I always loved her in books; how she starts as this silly, annoying girl and then grows and grows and outgrows everyone else)

Phryne Fisher from “Miss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries” (I just love this show and this woman; I’ve never seen a characterisation as this one; at one side she is never serious and she often plays silly woman, but that is only a facade for the world??? and she never cares about what others think of her, I’d love to be like her when I grow up, if I wasn’t already a grown-up)

Roy Mustang from “Fullmetal Alchemist” (I mean. I’ve never knew a manga character could be so hot. Also he’s a snarky bastard, but that’s what we love about him don’t we.)

(Purple) Hawke from “Dragon Age” (idk I just like this sarcastic little shit)

I was tagged by @majoris and @natowe to name my seven comfort movies (and god it’s gonna be difficult bc I rarely watch movies but here we go)

Inception

King Arthur: A Legend of the Sword

Lord of The Rings: Two Towers

Brooklyn 99 (I know, not a movie, but this is actually what I usually watch for comfort - I think I’ve seen season one like 10 times at this point)

Thor Ragnarok

Mamma Mia!

Star Wars: The Force Awakens

(generally when I’m in need of comfort movie I just look for some action movie this is how I roll, fighting on the screen makes me calm *shrug emoji*)

I was tagged by @ithilnarmo for quarantine Q&A

1. Are you staying home from work/school? Yes, I am, although there was some battle with this (long story). Luckily the project I work on is on the final stage (it’s already being built), so it’s actually possible to do everything from home and also a team I’m on is super communicative and it all goes rather smoothly.

2. If you are staying home, who is there with you? I live with my sister, who is now finishing her Master’s Degree, so we are in this together! (There is also occasionally a dog on our neighbours’ balcony just next to us and it’s always a highlight of a day.)

3. Are you a homebody? Before this pandemic I thought I am, but now I think I just don’t like clubbing and partying lmao, bc I just ITCH to travel or just go outside and walk in the city and I CAN’T.

4. An event that you looked forward to that got cancelled? Well, not an event, but several of my plans for spring and holidays got cancelled. I was supposed to go the Baltic Sea and Gdańsk in spring (on seperate occassions) and then I and my friend had to cancel our holidays to Faroe Islands in May/June, because it will probably be still too early to travel.

5. What movie have you watched recently? I think it was “Escape from the ‘Liberty’ Cinema”, which is hella weird Polish movie from 1990, just after end of communism. It tells a story about a censor who starts to question his job bc suddenly the actors in the movie that is being shown in one of the cinemas rebel (inside a movie) and don’t want to play it anymore. Really weird. Really.

6. What shows are you watching? Brooklyn 99 for like tenth time.

7. What music are you listening to? Same as usual.

8. What are you reading? I’m reading “The Waves” by Virginia Woolf (my fav book ever), for a month now, bc 1) I don’t have much time now I just work all the time, 2) I read it in English and can only read like 10 pages at once. but it’s SO GOOD, guys. so good.

9. What are you doing for self care? lmao don’t have time for that. I try to take breaks from work, sometimes go outside or at least step outside to balcony (and stare at the neighbours’ dog), I cook dinner every two days and a NICE stuff, so at least food brings me joy, and I try to sleep regularly, although I do a poor job on that.

aaaaand I was tagged by @jennyyfishh for 20 questions about myself

1. Nickname: I actually don’t have any, it doesn’t work like that in Polish (Kasia is already what you’d call a nickname from my full name Katarzyna, but this is just how we call all Katarzynas) (sometimes I wonder what is the point of the full names if we never use it in speech lmao)

2. Zodiac Sign: Scorpio!

3. Height: around 170cm

4. Languages: Polish and English; I was kinda conversational in German some years ago but now forgot all of it, I’d probably understand some of Ukrainian and Russian if I really tried (was learning Russian for three years and Ukrainian is just similar enough to Polish) and learnt some Swedish too, but again, don’t remember anything rn

5. Nationality: Polish

6. Favourite season: spring

7. Favourite flower: daffodil and tulip

8. Favourite scent: verbena, petrichor, sea

9. Favourite color: yellow

10. Favourite animal: dog probably

11. Favourite fictional character: look at tag game number one on this long list : )

12. Coffee, tea or hot chocolate: coffee!

13. Average hours of sleep: 6-7, but my body wants 10

14. Dog or cat: both, actually; now I’d rather take cat than dog, but that’s only bc I live in small apartment and am out of it for too long

15. Number of blankets you sleep with: one??? second blanket is for really freezing winters only (like -10/-20 celcius degrees)

16. Dream tip: what does it mean even? idk man, sometimes if you wake up from rly good dream, if you think about it hard and fall asleep quickly you can still return to it

17. Blog established: probably somewhen in 2011? idk what is time anyway

18. Followers: 2051

19. Random fact: oh god idk, ok I will maybe say sth I’m rly proud of, which is that my short story was published in an anthology in year 2017. I still can’t believe my name is printed there.

(where is 20th question tho???)

ok, I am tagging for all of those above: @shirewalker @sorrydearie @natowe @cptnjaneway @iaskier @spectralarchers @majoris @jennyyfishh @ithilnarmo @ohhelga @marsza @stupidape just choose whichever of those above you’d like to do or just ignore it completely : )

#tag game #about me

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cainfm · 5 years

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『BILL SKARSGARD ❙ NONBINARY』 ⟿ looks like CAIN ROMANOV is here for THEIR SENIOR year as a LITERATURE student. THEY are 25 years old & known to be RIGHTEOUS, TRUE, EVASIVE & GUARDED. They’re living in MORIS, so if you’re there, watch out for them. ⬳ JAMES. 21. EST. SHE/THEY.

hdsjnf hello all ... it is james again ... here with another ... replacing noelle with cain bt it’s fine im fine. i’ve hit muse limit u wn’t hear frm me again ... so hit tht like button .. this isnt the best intro ive done bt mostly bc im just kinda like ... taking an old one n rewriting it as i go

TW CULTS, HEROIN USE / ADDICTION, DRUG ADDICTION / USE, ABUSE, PSYCHOLOGICAL / EMOTIONAL MANIPULATION, PTSD, ANXIETY, TRAUMA.

aesthetics.

dangling limbs from tree branches, yellowed book pages, opened bottles of vintage wine, oversized sweaters and deep under eyes, bleached denim, worn leather gloves, cat hair against black cloth, fields of wheat, broken windows, descending staircases, tight-lipped smiles during public appearances, golden skies, light spilling from windows, stumbling over one’s own words, wire-framed beds, linens, wool scarves, making the wrong decisions; running, from others and yourself.

basic info.

full name: cain alexei romanov

nickname(s): n/a

b.o.d. - feb 19th, pisces :) happy birthday!

label(s): the connard (previously), the escapist, the facade, the fallen, the lothario (previously), the pariah, the phoenix, the puppeteer (previously), the sybarite, etc.

height: 6′4″ ... bruv.

hometown: stratford, connecticut

sexuality: bisexual uwu?

stats

inspired by: i feel like i did ... have an inspiration for him but i don’t ... remember ... so ur not getting this one ... i might edit this later if smth pops into my head but. alas.

biography.

born to connecticut senator vaughn romanov and well known philanthropist adelaide romanov, they were born into a life of privilege in a very prominent new england family. they’re the eldest of five in a very nuclear, picture perfect, preppy chic family.

was brought up to be a class a, outstanding, perfect citizen. golden child to the all american family (willfully ignoring the fact that his father came from russian immigrants). cain listened, obeyed, never strayed outside the lines.

it was always intended for cain to take on after their father, to follow in his footsteps and become a politician too. there were several expectations for them, including joining model un, debate, deca, splitting time between soccer, track, basketball, lacrosse, becoming class president, and all while maintaining a valedictorian - worthy gpa.

even volunteered on the weekends at homeless shelters and food banks, proving to everybody in their community just how much of a gem they were, darling, perfect member of society.

always eager as a child, eager for approval, eager to impress and wow and dazzle authorities and adults alike - cain never really had a problem with any of it? always attended church on sundays and sometimes even wednesdays. participated in family dinners and christmas photoshoots and new years eve parties, easter egg hunts and family reunions.

born and raised in stratford, super close to lovell to the point where it’d always been expected that the romanov children would simply just go to radcliffe, as did their parents. their home in stratford is a big, fancy, seven bedroom eight bath house with two fireplaces and an expansive dining room. no pool, but a sturdy treehouse made by scratch.

however. their model citizen persona was just that, a persona - a charade. in the community and to his family, cain was a hardworking citizen who upheld standards, a leader. to classmates and peers, from elementary to college - cain was the devil themself.

arrogant, harrowing, an outright bully who tore down others when they felt like it, often unprovoked. they were the senator’s son, and a rich one at that - rules never applying because they simply never existed for them, the upmost privilege because of who their family happened to be and their place in society. tattlers of their behavior faced far more consequence than cain ever did, or would.

the sort of person who’d genuinely look down at someone if they had less than them - a narcissistic dickhead who cared about two or three people, tops, outside of their family. was never physically violent, nor did they raise their voice, but that’s what made them all the worse. made them all the scarier. spewed classist bullshit with ease and was addicted to the power high it gave them.

their only redeeming quality was their protectiveness over their family - never the best person, but family is family, and they thought it ought’d to be protected.

went into political science and business to please their father, mainly, every step they made - every path cain went down, every choice from the electives they took in high school to the brand of shoes they wore, was to build them into the ideal presidential candidate.

probably joined a frat though cain never participated in parties too often, known for keeping their composure even when others resorted to violence, or got too drunk, or caused any public commotion, because they didn’t like to leave a bad image for the press. did their drugs in private but left nothing to the imagination, publicly.

but alas. during college, two very important series of events occurred.

seeking thrills, searching for fun in all the wrong places - cain became a middle-man between dealers and producers. never dealt it, and never produced it, but simply transported it between one another; the less everybody knew about each other the better. it was always a very hushed operation. one that they could’ve profited much off of, though money was never the motive for them.

and then he met earl and may meyers, fellow volunteers at a thanksgiving food drive; an older couple immediately drawn to cain, reasonable considering just who their father was, and cain to them. they can’t tell you what about the couple was so appealing - the air around them was something else entirely; some called it unhinged, others would call it comforting. but they were kind folks, down to earth - very religious, and very warmhearted. liked his name, a lot - like in the bible, they’d say, and laugh, and pat his arm. they would say, on occasion, that they reminded them of their late son.

it’d happened towards the end of their junior year, a few years after they’d gotten involved in the drug business - and the meyers were volunteering more and more, always at the same places as cain. the same times, too, as if they were learning his schedule. in retrospect - it was odd, but cain’d never suspected a thing. they kept talking, and it became a genuine friendship - a secured vote in the next election.

it only took a few months into this that they’d begun to talk about religion more. the sin of wealth, and god choosing only a select few when he cleanses the earth. only the worthiest souls. they’d eventually get into the rhythm of telling cain they were special - that they could see they’d be selected, see it in their aura, in their dreams, god sending them messages, etc. most would find it to be absolutely ... bonkers.

but it was oddly appealing to cain - like, maybe i am being constrained by capitalism. maybe i am disappointing god - aren’t i a devoted follower? it felt nearly ridiculous, but it seeped into their mind. psychological manipulation, lasting over months and cain unsuspecting. as if they could ever be the one manipulated. but the meyers could ask cain to jump, and they’d simply say - how high?

soon enough, earl and may told them that they were moving. that there’d been so many more like them and that it was time to join them, time to prepare - to get ready for the rapture. cain held off at first, finishing up their first term of their senior year and their life planned right before their eyes. everything they’d ever worked for. their loyal companions and close-knit family, their side-business that’d only gotten stronger - a long-term girlfriend and the engagement ring that burnt in their pocket, made their heart beat twice as fast at the very thought. still the same as before, cruel without a cause, but still surrounded by those who loved them - who could find something in them to love.

but a month into their senior year, cain had a sudden change of heart. they were ready, now, if not now then never later. all because of a third event. a surprise. a shock. a betrayal.

they had discovered that they were not their father’s child - not at all, not even by an inch. they were someone else’s, completely. their mother had broken down and cracked, after a particularly straining christmas party. the discussion was long, and the heartbreak only grew. the anger only grew. the hurt - it grew. more and more, with each pitiful sob their mother gave them. it was a mistake - a one night stand in a fit of petty anger in the very early stages of their marriage. and only cain knew - like they had to carry this weight, now, that they never asked to have.

it was the kind of information that broke a person. cain idolized their parents, done everything they’d ever asked - ever expected, and beyond, let them mold them like putty into whatever form they wanted. only to find out that in the end, it didn’t matter. it never mattered, if cain wasn’t the blood child of vaughn. if their mother - a woman who hadn’t a bad bone in her body, was nothing but a cheat and a liar.

cain unraveled.

they spent the first week getting into an altercation with near anybody who looked at them wrong. physical, usually - though arguments arose frequently as well. with no explanation, only thrown fists - often drunk, or high, or sober too - it never mattered. they spent a night in county jail, it’d gotten so bad. it seemed to have no end.

right until new years, just after midnight, when cain had disappeared without a word. it was treated like a missing persons case, though there was no evidence of foul play or kidnapping, and not much could be done about it.

BEGINNING OF CULT / DRUG / MOST OF THE TRIGGER WARNINGS

the only people who knew of cain’s whereabouts were the meyers - because they had left together. a last minute decision that, if they had only waited a simple minute longer, would’ve never happened. a mistake they desperately wished they could take back. a mistake that led to another event - maybe the most important one of them all.

they’d gone only hours away from stratford, and lovell, the border between new york and connecticut and not as far as cain had initially thought, but deep, deep into the woods. that was where the cult’d been. they wore white linens and cotton, but never mixed. technology banned, prayers and daily chores. it was natural, at first. for the first three months, that was.

it could’ve been grand. it was peaceful, and mind-clearing, and they treated cain as if their birth was a sign from the angels. cain come to undo his past. a potential leader. but the longer they stayed, the more apparent it became that they weren’t all that the cult had wanted, so desperately, to believe. once they began to slip up, once members became displeased - that’s when the punishments began to occur.

sometimes once a week, but sometimes - and, later, much more so, multiple. the memories are suppressed, for the most part - but there are some things they simply can’t - the hands, they can’t forget. pulling, and tugging, and gripping - begging, asking him to repent, please, repent. their head held underwater, counting seconds until their vision’d eventually darken and go out, only to be pulled out gasping and sobbing. these memories stay - these memories repeat themselves, like a record stuck on repeat, days blurring into one another.

when they tried to fight back - they were subdued. heroin was the first step. little by little, everyday - enough to leave them in a high they wouldn’t remember; enough to burn a hole in their memory. and with these dimming memories, cain’d begin to sneak paper and pencil into their living arrangement, their room, writing everyday. wrote as much as they could remember from home - about their family, their life before it all - the people they loved. they couldn’t remember what they’d written, some days.

and when those notes were found, bound by thread taken from their own clothing to form a shabby book - that’d been the final straw. dragged, kicking and screaming - mind-numbingly high, into place. the twisted reenactment, retelling of cain’s demise. how exactly he’d gotten his scar. it would’ve been near perfect, if they had only stayed still and let them brand the mark into his forehead. but instead - they settled, eventually, for the chest. then - the left cain to die in the middle of the woods. in the middle of nowhere. no trails or campsites to follow, nothing at all. nothing but trees. nothing but his notes and the clothes on their back. they hadn’t even known what day it was - almost forgotten the year, too.

cain should’ve died there, but cain got up. and they ran. and ran. and ran. until they hit something, eventually. a road. it’d been pure luck that they’d found a car near immediately afterwards, whose driver wasn’t doubling as a murderer, who took them to the hospital - and who gave cain that chance to live. they were found on new years, a full cycle - a full year in the cult that’d changed their life.

END OF CULT / DRUG / MOST OF THE TRIGGER WARNINGS. PROCEED WITH CAUTION. STILL MENTIONS OF TRAUMA / MENTAL HEALTH / RECOVERY / ADDICTION BEYOND THIS POINT.

after being reunited with their family in the hospital - everything went by very fast. they couldn’t recognize their youngest sibling, but they also couldn’t remember why they’d left in the first place. couldn’t remember the name of their girlfriend, but the color of her hair and the way she smelled. they couldn’t give answers to their actions.

and after being put into therapy and recovery for their addiction - that’s when they find out that their father’s a presidential candidate, that they had been - that they used cain’s disappearance as a story for the press, one to garner votes. their return is national news, and their public opinion skyrockets. it’s supposed to be glorious, and a miracle, a blessing - but cain feels restrained. confined to the role they’d always been expected to play - expected to get up and continue with their life, as if nothing had happened.

but nothing didn’t happen - everything happened, and cain’s different now, vastly so - no longer who they thought they were. they change their major to literature, abandon politics. they get some cats, start working at the library, and they put on some leather gloves - their method of staying away, of keeping a comfortable distance. they are different, now, and simply only wish to focus on their recovery.

personality.

they’re no longer who they once were. a year of trauma does things to a person - and with memory loss that weighs heavy on their mind, they are near completely different. they remember parts of their old personality, their old lifestyle - enough to know they want to be better. they’re convinced that it’s karma, what happened to them. for being who they were - acting the way they did. just ... a bunch of self-blame.

even with the massive ego, cain’s always been a quiet person. but now - now cain’s even quieter. kinder, if not a little sarcastic, like a relic from the past. they’re distant - but it’s one of fear, restrictive and tense - not one made out of their own comfort.

smokes medical marijuana but rarely drinks ... as if that’d make a difference. in an effort to beat their heroin addiction, they’ve turned to prescriptions instead.

like i mentioned ... cain has four cats. it’s basically their entire personality. two of them were from before their disappearance, but two are new to their little (school-approved) family. there is: frank (big chungus when yelled. white and gray), brock (orange. fluffy. stoic. devours food), shoelace (black furred, missing an eye and half an ear), and crunchwrap supreme (crunch for short. calico with bent ears). yes, they have photos of their cats in their wallet.

cain’s memory is fucked - like, really fucked. they forget a lot of things. short term, long term. it’s a constant struggle. they managed to keep their notes from the cult, so those help - but not always. they forget dates and names and faces and events. sometimes they wake up and don’t know where they are. they don’t sleep often, anyways. with the trauma came night terrors, and in an attempt to avoid them they don’t ... sleep often. only a few hours a night if they can withstand it, because it’s frankly terrible.

they suffer from severe touch aversion. skin contact with anybody, of any sort, is enough to send cain into a full-blown panic attack. they were leather gloves more often than not in an attempt to combat this disadvantage, without hindering their dexterity too much. even with clothes, they’re not the biggest fan of physical contact. it won’t send him into a panic attack, but they visibly flinch away. they’re very clear from the get-go, if someone is too close to them, that they don’t like physical contact.

dealing with ptsd and attends therapy every week. their therapist recommended that they keep writing their notes, after reviewing them himself, so cain does. they keep an entire journal where they write, and sketch a little, because it helps them cope and de-stress. it means a lot to them, actually.

also dealing with ptsd and attends therapy every week - therapist recommended he kept writing after looking at his notes - so he does, keeps an entire journal where they write and like … sketch a little, because it helps them cope. means more to them than it would seem. but, unfortunately, part of their coping involves getting far too involved in their own mini-investigation of the cult they’d been part of. when the cult was tracked back to where cain’d been brought, they were already gone - and cain wants to know where. wants to know how to find them. wants justice, vengeance. wants nobody else to get hurt from them.

pretty blunt ... won’t go out of their way to announce that hey, they were part of a cult, and that’s why they’re gone and that’s why that’s the way they are now - but they also won’t lie about it, if the topic comes up in conversation. they don’t like delusions, don’t like secrets, nor do they like unnecessary attention.

being at radcliffe makes cain anxious because - well, they’re surrounded by people they’ve been doing wrong by for years now and they can’t even remember which ones. who, what, when, why - distant memories, if they’re even there at all. is constantly trying to figure out how to redeem themselves. they’d leave, if it hadn’t been their parents’ assistance that they stay there. so that someone always has an eye on them.

but like ...they screwed over a lot of people when they left. from plugs / customers to their ex-girlfriend, who they are, undeniably, still in love with (you can’t forget that feeling) - to their friends. like. everybody, pretty much KBJNSDFKSNLD

is often pretty high ... i’d say it’s just the medical weed but. alas :/ take a guess :/

hates cars & swimming & crowds. hates feeling trapped and will avoid it whenever possible. doesn’t want to be seen as unsociable, but it’s difficult.

they ... have a tendency to run away when they’re overwhelmed. likes to climb trees because they’re tall enough to. there’s a tree outside of their window that they climb out to frequently, even though it’s like a ~safety hazard~ or whatever. just really likes to hide out.

used to be in perkins when they last attended radcliffe, but they gave their spot to someone else and that was like - 100% fine w/ cain tbh. lives alone in moris now.

feels the need to redeem themself ... to like, everybody. like, they want to avoid conflict and be a better person, but it’s hard, and they don’t necessarily like confrontation either - and not everybody believes that cain’s changed. it wouldn’t be surprising if people were suspicious of cain, for whatever reason, because they don’t ... really have the best track record anymore.

developed a stutter as one of the results from their trauma. their voice is damaged from screaming and they’re self-conscious about it, but they’re working on it because there’s more important things to worry about. in general, cain looks ... gaunt, too thin, and generally sickly.

repeating senior year ... fr obvious reasons ... and probably won’t graduate anytime soon because they’ve changed their major so late.

can still hold a conversation & they’re not really afraid of socialization. it just takes a toll on them. they’re pretty lowkey, as a person. soft, sorta. quiet but they won’t be an asshole (on purpose). they like people! just. very low energy.

so like ... tldr ... not an asshole anymore ... dealing with a lot of trauma ... trying to be a good person ... yes ...

wanted connections.

locals... people they’ve grown up with their entire life. people they’ve wronged, people who idolized him, envied him, despised him, etc.

enemies... would love for a bunch of these just. a hoard of people who fucking hate cain. because it fits the bill. they could’ve bullied them, or wronged them, whatever. anything works. let’s make it happen.

exes... that they’ve dumped... old hookups, ex-friends, people they got into an argument with or fought before they disappeared last year...

ex girlfriend... that connection wld b rly neat!! i have it up as a wc rn but we can take that down ... will be holding intense american idol - esque auditions. remember that cain ws a fckn classist pig and probably only dated people who were also rich with influential families. (unless u present a very good case to me ... then maybe ... perhaps ...)

family friends... family rivals... people he knows mostly thru their family.

redeemable... people they’re trying to redeem themself to... trying to prove their worth, and that they’re a better person now, etc. etc.

old clients... :) angry clients. that they left in the dust.

perkins... people he knew from perkins ... old pals or maybe enemies idk he was pretty insufferable ... people he used to go to fancy parties with sometimes ...

angery... people so so so so fucking pissed at cain, for whatever reason.

reconciliation... reconnecting... used to be friends and we can be friends again :) and i will be better this time! i’m a slut for slowburns, especially slowburn friendships ... enemies to friends ... now THAT is sexy.

victims... of bullying ... :/ of their bullying specifically.

sof...t... wholesome content ... nothing but soft, understanding friendships ... or developing friendships ... make them feel welcomed again... forgive them...

an..g.st... friends to enemies. enemies to bigger enemies. miscommunication. betrayal. whatever u want.

no hookups!!! ... please only previous encounters. nothing in the present. because it just wldn’t make sense.

unless... eyes emoji. H DSJLFJKS just kidding! i’d accept MAYBE some kind of sexual tension but like ... the sort that hurts, because it just Cannot Happen (i will not let it happen). or maybe a fun, casual sexting thing but like. nothing physical. pleasthe.

fuck politics!... mayhaps, they hate mr. romanov and his politics or smth. he’s probably corrupt in some way, so! go at it!

aggression... i feel like a lot of the conversations between cain n other ppl start out rly ... angry bc theyre Mad. at them.

ok it’s bed time please plot with me.

#radintro #cult tw #heroin tw #drug abuse tw #addiction tw #trauma tw #ptsd tw #anxiety tw #manipulation tw #abuse tw #i think thts all ...

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