#and I don’t think she’s as stubborn as Michael

[hearts401]

Me thinking about flashlight duo and their connections to Elizabeth because everyone explores Michael knowing I genuinely cannot figure them out

[enzstr]

Only You || K. Bakugo

Pairing: Bakugo x Reader

synopsis: starz26708 and Dino.tnt609, two students who first met in an online chatroom. A friendship had flourished between them. With the strong need to meet each other, 6aku.tnt609 slowly gains curiosity regarding the other's identity, which sparked the desire to meet her within him. What could possibly go wrong?

💭: btw, this is inspired from the Chad Michael Murray and Hilary Duff movie A Cinderella's Story!!

author's note: My deepest apologies it took me so long to upload the new chapter!!! I've been having finals and examinations but I'm free now!! New chapter might come out in a few days or a week since it's in my drafts now...

words: 3.7k

Chapter 2: The Two People

Reader's POV

The following day, I sat in my classes, feeling unusually unfocused. I found my thoughts continually returning to the message I had received the night before from my friend, Dino.tnt609. The words and emotions contained in that message had left a powerful and lingering effect on me, making it difficult for me to fully immerse myself in the subjects being taught.

“Please meet me at the school’s party. I’ll be waiting for you at 11:00 in the middle of the dance floor.” 

Those messages had set themselves so deeply into my thoughts that it was as if they were on a constant replay in my mind. No matter what I did, I couldn't seem to rid myself of their presence. They continued to resurface, over and over again, like a stubborn memory that refused to be forgotten. The more I tried to dismiss them, the more their contents seemed to linger in my thoughts, refusing to be pushed aside or ignored.

“Y/n, what is the difference between speed and velocity?”

My heart dropped. I have been half-listening, my mind drifting, thinking about the message Dino sent to me—contemplating meeting him, and the school party. But now, I was completely caught off guard. Difference between speed and velocity—the words sounded fuzzy in my head, like fragments of a puzzle I wasn’t sure how to put together.

That was when she noticed him.

Bakugo.

He was sitting at the back of the class, leaning back in his chair, hands casually folded behind his head. He was grinning—the kind of grin that wasn’t friendly or supportive. It was the kind of grin that only came when you were sure someone else was about to fail. He’d been watching me for a while now, and I could feel his gaze boring into me. I knew exactly what he was thinking: She wasn’t paying attention. She doesn’t know the answer. This is my chance to look good in front of everyone.

The grin on Bakugo’s face widened ever so slightly, and I could almost hear his internal smirk. He had the confidence of someone who’d aced every test without breaking a sweat, someone who knew how to get under your skin with the smallest of gestures. And right now, his quiet, almost smug enjoyment was aimed directly at me.

My stomach twisted. It wasn’t that I cared about beating Dylan, exactly. But I did care about not looking foolish in front of the class—especially when he was clearly expecting me to fail. The challenge hung in the air, palpable, like an unspoken duel. I could almost hear him thinking, Come on, mess up. Please mess up.

The competitive spark in me flared to life, and in that moment, something shifted inside of me. I wasn’t going to let him get the last laugh. No way.

I straightened up in my chair, eyes narrowing just slightly, and forced myself to focus. I don’t need to know everything, I told myself. I just need to know enough to get this answer right.

My gaze locked back onto the board, and suddenly, it wasn’t so hard to make sense of the question. It was a simple logic question—something I could handle if I stopped panicking.

Mr. Aizawa was still looking at me expectantly, but now I had a plan. I took a steadying breath and spoke, my voice clearer than she felt.

“The difference between speed and velocity lies in their definitions, speed is a scalar quantity, meaning it only describes how fast an object is moving, without any reference to direction. For example, if a car is going 50 km/h, that's its speed.”

Her eyes flicked back to the board, confirming her answer. She could feel the weight of the moment—this was what it was all about. She hadn’t been paying attention before, but she was focused now, and she was going to finish strong.

“Velocity, on the other hand, is a vector quantity. This means it not only describes how fast an object is moving but also in which direction. For instance, if the car is traveling at 50 km/h to the east, its velocity is 50 km/h east. In essence, while speed only tells you the rate of motion, velocity provides both the rate and the direction of motion.”

Mr. Aizawa nodded approvingly. "Exactly, Y/n. Well done."

I felt a small surge of relief, but it wasn’t just the satisfaction of getting the answer right. It was the feeling of having turned the tables, of having taken control of the moment that had threatened to spiral out of my grasp. I glanced over at Bakugo, just as he was about to sit up straighter in his chair. His grin faltered when he saw the glint in my eyes.

And that was all the encouragement Bakugo needed.

I couldn’t help myself. A small, almost mischievous smile curved on my lips. It wasn’t an innocent, pleased-with-herself smile—it was the kind of grin you wore when you knew you’d just pulled something off, when you’d just made someone else realize they’d misjudged you.

Bakugo’s expression shifted, his eyes narrowing slightly, the smugness faltering for the briefest of moments. He’d thought I’d fumble. He’d thought I wouldn’t know the answer. But I had shown him, and not only had I known the answer—I said it with confidence, without hesitation.

He looked away first, clearly frustrated, but I didn’t miss the way his jaw tightened. I knew that look. He didn’t like losing, even if it was just a small moment, a little victory that nobody else in the room might even notice.

But I noticed. And that was enough for her.

As the class continued, Ellie let herself settle back into her seat, but her mind was sharp, focused, and alive with the thrill of competition. Dylan might have been the golden boy of the class, but today, in this small, unexpected moment, Ellie had beaten him. And for once, it felt really good to smile back at him—just a little bit smug, just a little bit competitive—knowing that he hadn’t seen this coming.

The moment I finished answering the question, I could feel it—a mix of pride and adrenaline coursing through me. I had nailed it, no hesitation, no second-guessing. The class had been quiet after I spoke, the silence hanging in the air before the professor acknowledged my answer. It felt like the eyes of the entire room were on me, but in that instant, I didn’t care. For once, I was the one who had it together.

But then there was the scoff.

I didn’t even need to look at him to know exactly who it was. Bakugo. The ever-present thorn in my side. His chair creaked as he shifted, his eyes narrowing in that way I was so familiar with. He looked almost... irritated, the kind of expression he wore when he thought someone was challenging his spot as top dog in this class. And right now, it was clear that he did not appreciate the fact that I was the one who had answered confidently.

Why does it always have to be him? I wondered, my hands clenched under the desk. I knew it was coming—he was going to find some way to one-up me, to make me feel small for doing something as simple as knowing the answer. I hated how predictable he was, but I hated even more that it affected me so much. I’d never let him see that, though. He had to think I was just as indifferent as he was.

I kept my eyes trained forward, pretending like his irritation didn’t bother me, like I wasn’t still replaying the way he’d looked at me, the way he always tried to put me in my place. It’s just a class. It doesn’t matter, I reminded myself. This isn’t real life. This is just some stupid competition.

The bell rang, breaking my thoughts, and the class started to pack up. As usual, Bakugo shoved his things into his bag with that signature smug expression, as if he'd already forgotten the moment I’d answered correctly. He probably wouldn’t give it a second thought, while I would be stewing in it for the rest of the day.

I grabbed my phone, hoping to distract myself. A new message from Dino.tnt 609 popped up. My fingers tapped the screen eagerly, relieved for the sudden shift in focus.

Dino.tnt609: “So, Halloween party tomorrow night.. what do you think? You in?”

I smiled at the message. Dino. He was the one person who could make everything feel lighter, even when things felt heavy. Talking to him always made me feel like I could breathe again after a day of dealing with Bakugo’s constant need to compete. Dino was my escape. He didn’t care about grades or the stupid academic battles I fought with Bakugo every day. He just… gets me.

But then I hesitated. My thumb hovered over the keyboard as I began to type, the excitement of the invite quickly dampened by a twinge of anxiety. The party. It should be fun, right? Just a Halloween party. But the idea of seeing someone in person—someone I had only ever known through texts and memes and game chats—suddenly felt overwhelming. What if I didn’t click with him in real life? What if meeting him was awkward?

But more than that, what if it turned out that the person I was texting with every night was someone I couldn’t stand in real life? What if he was one of those people who, once you met them face to face, you realized you just didn’t vibe with? What if it was someone like Bakugo?

Wait, no. Don’t think that. I tried to push the thought out of my head. I knew it was irrational. Dino wasn’t Bakugo. He couldn’t be. Dino was the one who listened to my rants without judgment. Bakugo would’ve laughed at my complaints, probably turned it into some kind of competition. But Dino didn’t—he understood. He had always been there when I needed to vent about school, about life, about how exhausting it was to constantly feel like I had to prove myself to people who didn’t deserve it.

I bit my lip, still unsure. Maybe I was overthinking it. It’s just a Halloween party. Just one night. The mask I planned to wear would make it easier, give me an extra layer of comfort in case things felt weird. And if it turned out the person I was meeting in real life was someone I couldn’t stand? I could always leave early, or just keep the mask on, keep things light. No pressure.

With a sigh, I finally typed back.

starz26708: “I’m not sure yet. I want to go, but I keep thinking about who I might run into. What if it’s someone I already know and just don’t get along with? I hate the idea of meeting someone and realizing they’re not who I thought they’d be…”

I glanced at the message after I sent it, my heart pounding slightly. What if Dino didn’t understand? What if he thought I was being weird or overdramatic? But no, Dino would get it. He always did.

My phone buzzed almost immediately, and I opened the message from him.

Dino.tnt609: “I totally get it. Meeting people in real life is a lot different, especially when you’ve only talked to them online. But hey, no worries. If you don’t like the vibe when you get there, you don’t have to stay. Just come and hang out for a bit, if you feel like it. We can just keep it lowkey. And honestly, the mask thing sounds awesome. No pressure at all.”

I felt the tension leave my shoulders as I read his reply. Dino’s message was so casual, so easy-going. It reminded me that I didn’t have to overthink everything. The idea of the mask suddenly felt like a safe haven, a way to protect myself if things didn’t go as planned. And if things went well? Even better.

I glanced at my costume on the chair across the room, the simple, cute outfit with the eye mask. It was just for fun, right? It would be a way to keep things light, to feel like I could still hide behind some layer of anonymity, just in case. I could show up, meet DIno, and see how it felt. If I didn’t like the vibe, I could leave. No harm done.

Taking a deep breath, I typed out my response.

starz26708: “Alright, I’ll do it. I’ll come to the party. And I’ll wear the mask. No pressure. Just… a fun time, right?”

I hit send and sat back in my chair, feeling both nervous and excited. The thought of meeting Maverick in real life still made my heart race, but now there was a sense of excitement bubbling up, too. No more overthinking. Tomorrow would be what it would be.

As I tucked my phone back into my pocket, I couldn’t help but think back to the classroom earlier that day, the way Bakugo had looked at me with that scoff, like I was some kind of threat to his place in the class. I couldn’t stop him from being irritated or annoyed by me. But for once, I didn’t need to care. I was about to meet someone who saw me for who I really was, not just some competitor in an academic race.

And for the first time in a while, that felt like enough.

The library was still, the kind of stillness that envelops you like a blanket, pressing in with its quiet whispers. The scent of old books and fresh paper, mingled with the faint hum of fluorescent lights, filled the air. I sat at my usual spot in the corner near the back row of tables, tucked between two towering bookshelves. The table before me was cluttered with textbooks, notebooks, and a half-finished cup of coffee that had long since cooled. It was late afternoon, and the golden light from the windows cast long shadows across the floor, making everything feel a bit more serene than usual.

I liked it here—the calm, the solitude, the sense of focus that always seemed to find its way to me in the midst of my chaotic thoughts. But today, there was an odd distraction. Him. Bakugo.

It wasn’t that he had suddenly appeared or made his presence known in any way. No, he’d been here for a while now, sitting at the table across from hers, his head bent low over a stack of textbooks. His usual aloofness was present, that edge of arrogance that always seemed to follow him like a cloud, but it was muted somehow. Less blatant. Less in-your-face.

I could feel the tension in her chest as I stole a glance at him. My eyes lingered for just a moment, not sure what to make of it. He wasn’t showing off, wasn’t playing the part of the smug academic genius. He was just… working.

It was weird. It had been a while since I’d seen Bakugo like this—since he had been normal. Or maybe that wasn’t the right word. Maybe it was more like he was letting his guard down a little, just enough for me to notice. He was still Bakugo, the same guy who had scoffed at me when I answered that question in class with confidence, the same guy who’d shot me looks of condescension every chance he got. But today, there was something… different.

I shifted in my seat, uncomfortable with the way my thoughts were spiraling around him. I didn’t like this feeling. I didn’t like the fact that I was starting to care, even a little, about what Bakugo thought—or, worse, starting to wonder if he was, in some way, not the person I always assumed him to be.

My focus snapped back to my notes. I had a test coming up. A test I needed to ace. No distractions. No thoughts about him. And yet, despite my best efforts, I couldn’t stop my gaze from drifting back to him.

Bakugo had paused in the middle of writing, a pencil hovering above his notebook as he looked at something in the distance, his gaze unfocused. There was a tiredness about him today, something uncharacteristic, as though the weight of his own expectations were getting to him. His posture had shifted slightly; no longer the rigid, always-perfect stance, but more slouched, as if the constant pressure of being the best was beginning to wear on him. I had always known that he had his own demons, just as I did. But today, it felt… real somehow. It felt more human.

I tried to shake it off, to tell myself that this was just another moment of my own weakness, my need to understand people. To make sense of things. But it was harder now. It was harder to keep the walls up when I had seen a flicker of something real underneath the arrogance.

Bakugo cleared his throat suddenly, breaking the silence between them, and my eyes shot up, my heart giving an unexpected jolt. He was looking at me now, but not with the same sharp, dismissive gaze I was used to. No, this time, it was... different. There was still a hint of skepticism, but it wasn’t the biting kind. It was almost... curious.

“You’re doing that thing again,” he said, his voice a little hoarse, but not with the usual irritation. It was more like an observation. “Staring off into space.”

I blinked, surprised by the comment. “What?”

“You’re distracted,” he said, his voice quieter now. He shifted in his seat, rubbing the back of his neck with a tired sigh. “You’ve been looking at me like I’m some kind of puzzle you’re trying to figure out.”

I frowned, annoyed at how accurately he’d read me, even though I hadn’t been aware of it myself. “I haven’t been staring at you,” I muttered, though it wasn’t very convincing. I hadn’t meant to stare at him, but it was hard not to when something about today felt... off. In a way that was hard to describe.

Bakugo smirked, the edge of his usual arrogance slipping back for a moment. “Sure you haven’t.”

The flicker of their old dynamic was still there, but there was something softer in the way he said it. No ridicule. No malice. Just a simple, half-amused observation.

I sighed, rubbing my temples. This wasn’t helping me focus. And yet, there was something about the way Bakugo was acting today that made me feel like he wasn’t just my academic rival anymore. He wasn’t just the guy who competed against me for every grade, for every small victory.

For a split second,I entertained the thought that maybe—just maybe—I had misjudged him. But I quickly dismissed it. Bakugo was still Bakugo. Still arrogant. Still stubborn. Still too proud for his own good.

“I’m trying to focus,” I muttered, feeling a bit of tension in my chest, my irritation creeping back.

Bakugo didn’t respond right away. Instead, he picked up his pencil again and started scribbling something in his notebook. The sound of the lead scraping against the paper was oddly calming in the otherwise quiet space. I could feel the weight of the moment stretch out, the minutes slipping by as both of us worked, neither of us speaking.

And then, unexpectedly, Bakugo spoke again.

“You know,” he said, his voice a little softer than before, “you’re not the only one stressed out about this stuff.”

I blinked at him. What?

“Yeah,” He continued, not looking up from his work. “I might seem like I have everything figured out all the time, but I don’t. I—” He paused for a second, and for the first time, I saw a flicker of something that wasn’t arrogance in his eyes. “I hate feeling like I’m always just... expected to be the best, you know?”

I was taken aback. I didn’t know how to respond at first. This wasn’t the Bakugo I knew, the Bakugo who acted like he had the world on a string and was just waiting for it to fall into place. No, this was different. This was... human. Vulnerable, even.

I swallowed, the words catching in my throat. “I get it,” I said quietly, before I could stop herself. “I feel the same way. Like I’m always trying to prove something. Like I’m never enough.”

Bakugo finally looked up at me then, his expression more thoughtful than I had ever seen it. The usual arrogance was still there, tucked beneath the surface, but it wasn’t all-consuming. For a second, he just looked at her, as if considering her words. And for a moment, I wasn’t sure what to say next.

Then, surprisingly, Bakugo offered a small, almost imperceptible nod, the corner of his mouth twitching upward, not into a smirk, but a genuine smile. It wasn’t much—certainly not the kind of smile I ever expect from him—but it was enough.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice quieter now. “Guess we’re not so different after all.”

I was silent for a moment, processing the unexpected turn in their conversation. There was still so much about him that grated on my nerves, but in that moment, sitting in the library with him, I realized something. Maybe—just maybe—there was more to him than the arrogant exterior he always wore. Maybe there was a real person beneath all that pride and stubbornness.

And maybe, just maybe, I was starting to see him for who he truly was.

“I guess so,” I replied, offering him a small smile of my own.

Both of us went back to their work, the silence stretching out between us again, but this time, it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was… peaceful. There was an understanding now, an unspoken truce. They weren’t enemies, not really—not anymore.

For the first time, I realized that their rivalry didn’t have to define us. We could just be two students, studying together in the same quiet space, both trying to survive the pressures of their lives.

And in that simple moment, sitting across from each other, we both found a kind of peace.

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enzstr © 2024. please don't steal, modify or copy my writing on any other platforms!

[repulsiveliquidation]

Collateral || Ona Batlle

warnings : mentions of kidnapping, implied violence. smut at the end. fingering, strap-ons, rough sex. Part 2 of ‘Too Dangerous’.

summary : love always pays more than money ever will.

Days passed and you were desperately trying to think of ways to get Ona and the girls out and away from all of this.

You knew you shouldn’t have meddled. You knew your peace was something you were taking for granted and now you were paying the ultimate price.

Your girlfriend.

“Michael, there is no  fucking way I am putting her in danger!” 

“Ma’am,” George knocks, letter in hand. “He’s sent us another one.” 

“Open it.” 

Another picture of Ona, this time of her in the garden with the girls enjoying a bottle of wine, was circled in red again. George pulls out a cryptic letter too, which faintly smelled like cigarettes and honey. 

“Since you’re stubborn and love watching the people you love suffer in isolation, I'll make you a deal you cannot refuse. Give me the stake you have in Barca, leave Ona for good and perhaps I’ll ease off the other girls. I heard Arsenal has been quite the business target in our world.”

I’m closer than you think. 

“Boys,” you growl, the letter crumpled in your hand. “Tell me how the fuck he’s got a picture of my girls from an angle that looks suspiciously like it was taken from the inside of this fucking fortress of a HOUSE?!” 

They stutter, already gathering their things. You yell for them to get out, slamming your office door in frustration. 

You sit at your table and the tears start to flow, sobs shaking heavily through you. You sit back and stare at the picture of you and Ona on the beach from last summer, her pretty smile and your arms around her middle were a feeling, at the time, you did not want to forget. 

You promised her you wouldn’t forget. 

“Girls?” 

They’re all bugging Gio on what to make for dinner, Ingrid and Alexia sitting by the bay window sipping tea. 

“Did you find him yet?” Aitana asks, the room going quiet. They all look at you and you suddenly feel nervous, hand shaking by your sides. 

“Can we all sit?” you ask quietly and Ona is beside you the minute you reach for her, unsure if this was the last time you could have her close. 

“There have been some developments with the case,” Ona stands beside you as you sit at the head of the table, all the other girls gathered around in their own seats. 

“We don’t know who it is yet. But, there have been some messages that have us concerned,” you say, looking up at Ona. She looks worried, all of them do, and you just wish you could have had better news to share. 

“Ona,” you push your chair back and hold both her hands in front of you. “I have failed you.” 

“Amor,” she begins but you shush her. 

“Please. I made you a promise that day you learned what I do for work. I promised I would keep you safe and as far away as possible from it all. All I’ve done from the moment we made ourselves public was make you vulnerable to the bad people I deal with.” 

You pause, watching her eyes well with tears. The other girls look close to tears too. You continue, no matter how painful the next words out of your mouth feel in your chest. 

“I have to let you go, princess,” you stand, cupping her cheeks. “It’s the only way I can keep you safe.” 

“No, no!” she screams, pushing herself out of your grasp. You reach for her and hold her wrists, forcing her to look at you. She puts up a good fight but you win. 

“Ona!” you say sternly, getting her eyes to focus solely on you. “Baby, if there was any other way, I would do it. But I have no choice. If losing you means you’re out there safe from the danger that follows me, so be it.” 

“You don’t get to decide what’s good for me!” 

“I’m afraid neither you or I have a say in this, my love. It’s the only way you can go back to the life you had before all this,” you turn to the rest of the girls. “It’s the only way. Please, you have to trust me.” 

“I don’t want to go,” Ona whispers, looking up at you. 

“You have been such an honor to love. But this is for your own good, princess.” 

The girls file out of the room to give you some privacy and the waterworks burst. 

“But, I’ll see you at the club…right?” she says through sobs, voice stuck in her throat. 

“No baby, we can’t do that,” you pull her into your arms. “I have to stay away from you. For your safety and theirs. But I will always be here to protect you.” You step back, pulling a necklace out of your pocket. 

“Wear this, let it remind you of me.” You lean in and kiss her, “I love you, I always will.” 

You’re true to your word and you keep your distance. There was another letter that showed up mere hours after the girls left with instructions on where to transfer ownership of those stocks to. 

Your fathers hard earned work, gone with a click of a button. 

All because of one girl. A girl who didn’t know the power she held in the palm of her hand. 

Ona knew what she needed to do to hold up her end of the bargain. She couldn’t look you up, ask for you, talk about you. She was to act like you didn’t exist. 

It was easier said than done. 

She couldn’t sleep. Couldn’t eat. Couldn’t play. She was benched game after game after game, her performance on the pitch proving sub-par with her lack of sleep and nutrition. 

The rest of the girls, especially the ones that she had with her at your house, knew what she needed. She thrived with you. She wasn’t the same Ona most of them grew up with. You brought out a side in her no one else ever had and now that side died alongside your relationship. 

“NEW OWNER OF BARCA FEMENI, OSKAR PHILLIPS.” 

The headlines in the paper the day after were a shock to everyone. There was a sense of hope that the girls held onto, knowing you still owned a piece of their club and therefore were still ‘protecting’ them but this? 

Did you not care anymore? Was washing your hands just like that reflective of what you thought of them? Ona looked at the headline again and noted the last name. Familiar, she knew of someone with that name…

“Ona, did you know anything about this?” Caro asks her in a little bit of an accusatory tone, pointing at the paper harshly. 

“No! Of course not!” 

“So she sells her major stake in our team, doesn’t tell you and leaves you all in the same fucking week and we’re supposed to believe you didn’t have a fucking clue about any of it?” 

“Yes! Because I thought as my friends, you would have my goddamn back! Not point your fucking fingers at me because it’s easier than using your brain to think!” 

Ona walks up to Caro, little body shaking with rage. 

“She left me with a shitty explanation, blocked me on everything, deleted her socials and her number from my phone, abandoned the home we made together, ABANDONED ME, and I’m the bad guy? Huh?! She’s the fucking saint because she did it for my own good but what about what I want for once? I wanted her and all it got me was a broken heart and a bed I can’t sleep in because it fucking smells like her! Every corner of my stupid house is haunted because of her!” 

Alexia wrangles the trembling Ona out of the room with Aitana and Ingrid while the others try not to make Caro feel too bad. 

“Ona, Caro was just asking–” 

“Yeah? More like rubbing it in my face that the love of my life left me to keep me safe!” she throws her hands up in frustration. “Me? Safe??? What a love story that is!” 

“Well, well, well ladies. I do hope I’m not interrupting anything.” 

Oskar stood in a pristine emerald suit with gold finishes everywhere possible. There were two guards that stood behind him, one that looked awfully familiar again. What was it about these men that made Ona feel like she was in a dream? 

Ona pushes Alexia off her and storms off, Aitana hot on her heels. They knew to trust Alexia to cover for them, Aitana knowing her friend needed her more than a board member needed her to kiss his ass. 

“Not at all, just some friendly tousling,” Alexia starts, reaching her hand out for the mysterious man to shake. “You must be our new owner.” 

“Oskar. If it isn’t La Reina herself,” he goads, taking her hand to shake.

Ona breathes deeply in the furthest shower stall in the bathroom. Aitana hugs her close and they share a sigh, wishing she could take the pain away from her friend. 

“Ona, you just have to move on amiga. She’s gone and it's for the best, sí?” 

“But what about me? Do you even know how hard it has been for her to be with me? We’ve tiptoed all around you all because we were so scared you would accidentally be exposed to her work and now I learn it was all for nothing?” 

“Amiga, she–” 

“It’s good to see you ladies again, how long has it been, a couple days?” 

A tall man with an eyepatch on walks into the changing room. Another goon follows close behind, locking the door when it shuts. A smaller man walks in, hat tipped just covering his eyes. 

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Ona starts, standing up and pulling Aitana behind her, “this is a–wait,” She looks at the men properly, taking in all that she sees. 

The scar. The eyepatch. The terrible teeth and…that smell. Cigarettes and honey. Ona remembers that smell. 

The paper in your hand the day you left. 

“It was you.” 

“Figured it out have you?” 

George steps closer to Ona, pulling his eyepatch off. There was a deep cut along his eye and it was still fresh. 

“See what your whore of a girlfriend did to me when she found out? She made you all leave before letting me know she made me. Good thing her brother pays better and has better men to take care of me.” 

“Money does make the world go around,” Oskar snarls before smirking, “or in this case, it made my sister’s world crumble.”

He comes closer, the smell of cigarettes and honey intensifying. 

“Shall I do it again, for you and all your friends to see?” 

Michael’s phone rings, breaking the silence in the room. You’re in London, hiding out in one of your many homes around Europe. After getting the girls to leave your home and finding the rat in your circle, you trusted no one but Michael. 

He was there through it all, being a loyal servant of your mother before he followed you. Your father may have had the billions but your mother was who ruled it all with an iron fist. 

All your other men were scattered around Barcelona, keeping a close eye on your girls and especially your brother. 

Blood is thicker than water but when Oskars’ concerned? Money was more important. Alongside showing his mother what a terrible decision she made making his little sister the heir to the family business. 

His mother needed to regret it. But first, his dear little sister would pay. 

And what better form of payment than the love of her life? A life for a life right? Since you ruined his? 

“We can’t find them anywhere!” 

“Slow down, Patri,” you tell her, “Who can’t you find? How did you even get this number?” 

“Ma’am, it’s me Ivan! They’ve got the girls!”

“What?” 

“Oskar’s got Ona and them!” 

Your blood runs cold. There’s panic setting in on the other line, frantic chatter of the rest of the team searching for the girls. 

He’s got Ona. 

“He’s got Ona!” Ivan yells and you come back, throwing the phone on the ground and scrambling to get to her. 

The phone ringing again startles you. 

“Don’t her cries sound so pleasing, sister?” “Amor, don’t give him what he wants!” 

“If you hurt even a hair on her head, I swear I will–”

“Will what, huh? Kill me and all my men? Cry to mommy that I took your toys again? Grow up, you pathetic excuse for a Phillips! This empire you think you have was supposed to be mine! And by the end of tomorrow, it will be.” “Don’t give him anything, baby please!” 

“Shut her up!” he spits, “You listen carefully if you want your girls to live,” your brother growls into the phone. You’re shaking, hands in tight fists.

“You are to publicly declare our family business to me. I want it in writing that all profits made from tomorrow onwards will be mine. You are to tell mother that you do not want to run the business anymore and that you decided to give it to me. Any deviation from this plan, I will have their heads sent to your house in London, got it?” 

The line cuts and you’re already in a car to the airport, private jet fueled and ready to take you to Spain to save your girl. 

“Junior, are you sure you can’t find her?” 

“The camera feeds cut off when they went into the bathroom, coming back on an hour later. Everything is wiped!” he shouts, throwing his hands up in the air in frustration. 

“Think, think…” 

“The necklace!” you scramble to the desk Junior was at, pulling up the tracking service you were paying a fortune for. “Junior, track the necklace!” 

As he pulled the information up, you begged and begged every deity out there that she was still wearing it and that it didn’t hurt too much as a constant reminder of you around her neck. 

“There!” 

“Ale? Do you hear sirens?” Ingrid asks the captain, leaning back in her chair that she was sitting in. The girls were unnaturally comfortable while kidnapped, being held in a similarly big house to yours. 

“They’re faint but I think I hear them,” Alexia says calmly, looking around at the other girls and the men that stood around the room. She didn’t want to alert them of their awareness nor give the girls false hope that someone was out there looking for them. 

As the sirens got louder and louder, the men watching them started getting agitated. Being loyal to their boss was one thing, but serving time in prison while that asshat got off scot-free was not something meatheads like them wanted to gamble with. 

“Those better not be for us, Gerald.” 

“COPS!” 

“Ona?!” you called out, rushing in with the police. You pushed past all the elite policemen, eyes scanning every face till you saw hers. 

“Ona!” 

She runs into you, melting into your touch. She’s crying, and so are you, happy to finally have her back in your arms. 

“You came for us,” she sobs, looking up at you. 

“Of course I did. I told you I would let nothing hurt you all and I meant every word.”

You hold her shoulders, looking at her. Not a single hair hurt.

“This was my fault.” 

“No amor you can’t blame-”

“Ona, you were in danger because of me. I did this. My work did this to you and your friends, this was never meant to happen,” you rant, running a hand through your hair. You’re pacing, breathing becomes harder and harder.

“Amor, you’re scaring me,” says Ona quietly, reaching out to grab your wrists; she knows you’re about to have a panic attack. Rare, but she was the only one who could calm you down.

“I can’t believe I let my work slip into my personal life, I PROMISED the day we met I’d keep you safe and I couldn’t even do that.”

“You have!” she yells, looking deep into your eyes. The rest of the girls have gathered in the living room where you were with looks of concern adorned on their faces. They’re wrapped in blankets, sitting on the couch behind Ona holding onto one another.

You look straight at Ona, chest heaving with tears welled in your eyes. An uncommon sight of vulnerability for you, one that Ona doesn’t even blink an eye at, her priority was to get you back to reality. That was how she loved, even with the past few days she’s had, she’s more concerned about you.

“You’ve protected me so well, mi amor. After that one time, you’ve never, ever, let me see anything that you didn’t want me to. I knew what I was getting into when you told me about the consequences of dating you and I accepted because I trusted that you would never break your promises to me. I love you, the girls and I love you so much. You found us, you brought us home.”

Your hands find hers, pulling her into your chest. You bury your face in her neck, breathing back to normal. 

You go back to your home in Barcelona; the rest of the girls returned to their loved ones in one piece. The whole thing is the biggest scandal of the year, headline after headline exposing the inner works of your brother. 

Turns out, he learned of your mother’s will well before she died and knew the plans your parents made to make the family business yours. Knowing he needed to bid his time, he waited till the right opportunity to get both you and his own mother to bend to his word. And it nearly worked. 

“You deserve a little something for saving me, mi amor.” 

“Aren’t you tired, princess? You’ve had such a busy day,” you tell her, watching as she climbed on top of you in her large bed that she loved still smelled like you. 

“I know how this works, every princess needs to reward her knight in shining armor.” 

“Oh? What does this princess have in mind then?” 

Ona pulls a strap from under the pillow. 

“Put this on and show me how much you’ve missed me?” 

Ona is on her knees the moment you ask, lips wrapped around your strap beautifully. She’s moaning around the silicone, eyes focused on you. Your hips thrust into her mouth gently, hands pulling on her long, silky hair. 

“Did you miss me sweetheart? Missed how good I fucked your mouth?” 

Ona’s eyes well with tears, throat loosening to let you fuck into it easily. She gags noisily, tears running down her face. You pull away, leaning over to kiss her hard.

“On the bed, beautiful,” you whisper, watching as she scrambles to spread herself for you. You kiss down her chest, cold fingers caressing her soft skin. She shivers at your touch, bottom lip between her teeth. 

“Tell me how you want it, amor,” you mumble, taking her breast in your mouth. Ona moans, back arching off the bed just a little. 

“Want it rough baby,” she says breathlessly, “Want you to fuck me stupid.” 

You’re pressing her down and forcing her legs wide open before she can finish her sentence, cock already teasing her entrance. You leave hickeys all over her back, hands kneading her firm ass. She presses back into you, ass flush to your hips. 

You leave a hard smack that resonates, Ona moaning when the sting stops. She’s soaking wet, pussy glistening at you behind her underwear. You push it to the side, slipping two fingers along her folds. You moan with her, pressing her back down more into a deep arch. Two fingers slip into her cunt, thumb rubbing her back door gently. You finger her hard, fingertips finding her sweet spot easily. 

Ona writhes, begging for you not to stop. You pull away and turn her over, fingers slipping back into her just as fast as they slipped out of her. Three fingers rub her g-spot aggressively, thumb flicking at her swollen clit roughly. 

Your lips suckle on her breast, free hand holding her close to you. She squirms and her lips never stop begging for you to let her come. The whine in her voice sends pleasure straight between your legs, brain aching to hear your girl come. 

“Amor!” she screams as she cums, thighs quivering hard. You barely give her time to recover before your cock is lathered with her slick on your hand as it’s pushed into her gaping cunt. 

Her eyes bulge out of her skull when she’s speared on your cock, pussy wrapped tight around the toy. She’s gripping the sheets, bottom half lifted off the bed as you fuck into her. 

You’re pounding into her hard, skin slapping hard as it echoes in the room. The moonlight pours into the room and some of it shines on Ona’s face. She’s got a sheen of sweat on her body which glistens and as your hips fuck into her, you feel your heart fall in love with her all over again. 

You pull out and turn her onto her knees, pulling her arms behind her back as your cock slips back into her. She’s drunk on cock, babbling and mumbling as you thrust into her faster. 

Several hard spanks on her ass and a few intentional thrusts send her into her second orgasm, this time sending her straight to sleep. 

She wakes up in clean sheets and a ridiculously large t-shirt on her, rubbing her eyes to find you walking into the room with Chinese takeaway in one hand and her favorite drink in the other. 

“Hi princess,” you coo, sitting at the coffee table by the floor to ceiling windows. She gingerly walks over, settling into the corner of the sofa you were in. 

You were opening up the food when her hand rested on your shoulder. 

“Amor,” she says quietly, “How did you find us so quickly?”

You chuckle, sneaking a bite of the salt and pepper squid. “You think I gave you that necklace as a going away gift? It doesn’t even have one diamond in it!” 

She laughs and it’s the most beautiful sound you’ve heard in a while. 

“Thank you,” she whispers but you stop her. 

“I made a promise to you that I always intended to keep,” you lean in and peck her lips. “I will always protect you from my work, no matter what it does to me. Because at the end of the day, you are more important and all of this.” 

--

a/n : i am so fucking sorry that this was 9 months later but i do hope it lived up to your expectations!

[prentisslvr]

hello! congrats on 100 followers!! what an achievement. i was wondering if we could see prompt 18 “please stop pushing me away and let me take care of you, you’re sick.” with jennifer jareau x reader - sick reader who isn’t like extremely stubborn and refusing care, but doesn’t wanna get jj sick since she has work to do. maybe they’re in the early months of dating so they don’t fully live together yet so r ends up at her own apartment/place to hide from jj to avoid affecting her until jj realizes something is up.

SICKNESS BUG

summary: you caught a sickness bug off of jennifer’s son and are too stubborn to be taken care of.

pairings; jennifer jareau x reader

genre; fluff/comfort

prompt: 18 - “please stop pushing me away and let me take care of you, you’re sick.”

authors note; tysm for the request, and for your kind congratulations <33 some things might be ooc or not canon complicit because i’m not that far into the show yet and haven’t watched it in a while!!

jennifer had two sons, who were both in school which meant sickness was a common thing in jj’s household.

henry caught the flu and william, her ex, wasn’t available, so jennifer had to take care of henry, alone, along with her younger son which you’d assumed was a hard task, so you had offered to help.

you and jj had already been dating a couple of months, and you’d already met henry and michael a couple of times anyway. so jj, very reluctantly, let you help out.

jj, luckily, didn’t catch it, her body was used to children and their germs, your body, however, was not.

now you were in your home, coughing up your guts, with the worlds worst headache, alone, because you had left jj’s house about two days ago when henry recovered from his sickness.

you hadn’t told jennifer before you called sick at work, not wanting to worry her, but now, running a fever, and your stomach killing, you wondered how little henry had dealt with it so well.

when jennifer arrived at work that day, she had been excited to see you, you had went back to your house a couple days ago after staying to help her look after her sick son, which she was extremely grateful for.

however you weren’t there. at first she thought maybe you were late, but when she heard derek mention your absence and hotch reply with a, ‘she’s off sick’ her heart sank, you were sick, and alone, and you didn’t tell her.

“she’s sick?” jj inquires, looking over at hotch, concern crossing her features. “wha- is she.. is she okay, how sick is she, did she say?”

hotch raised his brows, a little surprised at the bombard of questions. “no, she just said she’s sick.”

jj nodded and gulped, she thought about just up and leaving, to go see if you were alright, but she knew that she couldn’t, she had a job to do, and you were an adult, you were able to take care of yourself just fine.

but the thought of you being so sick and alone makes her heart clench, she can barely focus on her work, so she quickly excuses herself to make a call, maybe if you sounded okay, she’d be able to ease some of her anxiety.

her phone dialled a few times before you pick up. “jayj?” you say carefully down the phone, she can hear the sickness in your voice by the rasp of your throat, and the way your speech is a little slurred.

“are you alright?” she asked quickly. “you’re not here, hotch said you were sick.”

“yeah a little, i think i caught the flu off henry.” you say a little chuckle in your voice, which makes you cough. you pulled the phone away from your face, so it was a little muffled for jj but she had seen enough sick kids, and coughs to know that hurt you.

“i’m coming to look after you.” she states into the phone once you put it back to your ear, you’re quickly protesting. “i’m fine jayj, honest honey, it’s just a little cold, i can handle it just fine.”

jj frowns down the phone, you didn’t want her to help, but she really couldn’t leave you like this, she sighs, her mind made up. “okay, just, call me if it gets worse.”

“i’ll be fine, but okay.”

the phone line ends and jj sighs, she never said she wouldn’t come and check on you, but she’d do that later, she had to finish some work first.

you were not fine, because an hour later on her break jj decided to come visit you, already having a key to your place she entered without warning, looking around for you until she found you in bed, eyes droopy, nose red, and running a fever.

you groaned when you felt her place her hands on your head, “don’t, you’ll get sick.” you say pulling away from her, making her frown. “you know i have an amazing immune system.”

“but..” you begin, trying to find an excuse. “you have work.”

“would you please stop pushing me away and let me take care of you, you’re sick.”

you sigh, knowing both of you are as stubborn as each other, and you knew jennifer wouldn’t leave you alone, not when she’d seen you in the state you were in.

“what about work?” you ask sniffling sitting up carefully. “spencer texted me, there’s a tough case right now.”

“they’ll be fine without us for one day.” jennifer smiled, brushing her hand across your cheek.

you lean into her palm, not knowing how much you’d need her comfort until you had it. “i’ve got a headache.” you mumble, giving into her care, making her smile softly at you, everything about this felt so domestic, so right.

“i’ll go get you some medicine, and once your fever comes down i’ll run you a bath, and we can binge watch our favourite show.” jennifer suggests. “how’s that sound.”

“perfect, thank you.”

[wannabeschyulersister]

not a goodbye

“I think you should go to New York.”

Carmen had been staring at the huge whole on the side of the house for the last twenty minutes. The cold air rushing through didn’t phase him at all.

Your words did.

“What? Wh-what are you talking about?”

“I overheard your conversation with Michelle. I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop. I was actually trying to avoid Fak. He was trying to talk to me about those damn baseball cards.” You stepped closer to Carmen and he grabbed your hand.

“I’m not going.” He simply said.

“Carmen, look around. This is chaos. Your future is so fucking bright but this-“ you waved your free hand around, “isn’t what’s good for you mentally. I love your family and I know that you do too but you have to put yourself first.”

Carmen was a stubborn man. After the fiasco that you both witnessed at dinner, you hoped that he would take up Michelle on her offer.

“I can’t put myself first. I need to be here for my mom and Sugar. Michael is just- he’s a mess. I can’t just leave everyone. I can’t leave you. I won’t- I won’t leave you. I need you.” Carmen felt like he was beginning to panic at the sheer thought of being away from you.

You placed your hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat begin to pick up faster. “Carmy, we wouldn’t be saying goodbye for long. I’m graduating in a few months. I’m sure there’s plenty of marketing agencies I can apply to work at in New York. And I can visit you as much as I can.”

Carmy shook his head stubbornly, “No, (Y/n). Didn’t you see what just happened here? I can’t leave them like this!”

“You can’t put the weight of the world on your shoulders,” you told him, hoping he would listen to your words, “You can’t fix everyone’s problems especially if they don’t want to help themselves.”

Carmen rested his forehead against your shoulder and wrapped his arms around you. He knew deep down you were right. In that moment, it all felt so overwhelming. His family was a disaster.

He didn’t want you to attend his family’s dinner tonight but he still invited you anyways. He knew how badly things could turn out to be but he selfishly wanted you there for support.

Carmen held your hand during dinner when everything went to hell. He honestly didn’t even know how he would’ve sat there and handled anything without you by his side.

You’d been around his family dozens of times. Sugar adored you. Michael made you feel welcomed as soon as he first met you. Donna was another story. You understood the situation and avoided her as much as you could. You were always respectful and spoke to her, but you didn’t go out of your way to strike a conversation. She had the ability to completely snap on someone and you didn’t want it to happen to you.

“You really think I should go?” He asked you softly.

“Yes, I do. I believe in your future. In our future. I know you’re going to do amazing things, Carmy.”

You felt him kiss your neck, “I love you.”

“And I love you. I know it’s going to be hard but we can make it.”

He nodded before kissing your lips, “We can make it.”

[crackedpumpkin]

|| ʙʟᴀɴᴋ ᴄᴀɴᴠᴀꜱ || ᴘᴛ. ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ ||

a/n: Hello loves! So sorry I kept y'all waiting for part three, I hope you enjoy this! Just wanted to let y'all know that I'll be flying off to South Korea for a vacation, and will only be back on the 22nd of June so updates will be paused till then. I'll try to continue writing on my trip, but there are no guarantees I won't be too tired lolol. Love, pumpkin.

[ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨��𝐬 ] | [ 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ] | [ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬���𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ]

Blackmail — The act of attempting to force someone to do something or give up something valuable by threatening negative consequences if they don’t, especially revealing negative information about them.

That's what the online dictionary says anyway, which is perfect! 

As such, it wouldn't be blackmail as much as it would be....persuasive negotiation. Which is the exact opposite of blackmail, which, again, is perfect! 

Yeah, you’re getting nowhere with this.

You stifle a defeated groan as you collapse onto the plush mattress of your bed, dragging your hands down your face. Your phone beeps with a message, startling you out of your thoughts.

Nicole [ 7.15 PM ]: Did you find what you were looking for?

Nicole [ 7.15 PM ]: ? 

Nicole [ 7.30 PM ]: Update me tomorrow.

Right. Nicole. Your hand falls limply to the side, fingers loosely gripping the device.

Crap. 

How would you explain it to her? She’s always been good at sniffing out your lies. To tell, or not to tell. That is the question. Maybe you should just pretend nothing happened. That’d be the only reasonable thing to do in this situation, right? 

But your art is at risk here. And if it’s anything you’ve learnt over your many years of living, it’s that you’re a stubborn bull that can’t back down once you’re set on something. And right now, you’re set on getting Spiderman to be your model. 

You might get your mojo back if you draw him enough times. Maybe your art block won’t be so constipated anymore, and perhaps you might even get into the art school you have your eye on.

And maybe, just maybe, you might catch the eye of the art scouts at the end-of-year exhibition.

So there’s no way you can afford to give this up. 

You’ll convince him. You have to.

— — — — — 

“So, why’d you ignore my messages yesterday?” 

You flinch away from the sudden hand on your shoulder, fingers decorated with rings glinting in the sun. Michael winces from where he’s standing opposite you, taking a long, slow sip of his juice box. 

You stammer out Nicole’s name in surprise, the girl in question looking at you with a raised brow and serious eyes. She scans your nervous smile and flushed cheeks, letting go of you with a nod. 

“You met him. How was it?”

Damn it.

“I didn’t end up meeting him,” You say with a defeated sigh, hoping it’s not excessive. Being under Nicole’s observant gaze is one of the scariest experiences in the world, with pigeons in close proximity a close second. 

“Okay,” Her dubious tone gives you a slight sense of hope, only for your heart to drop at her next question. “So, why’d you ask me for Miles’s photo?”

“I, uh, ran into him and thought he looked familiar. So, I asked for his picture to double check,” You admit, hoping the truth mixed into some lies would be enough to convince her. 

“Right…What’s your impression of him, then?”

“Cute?” You blurt out without thinking, recalling the framed picture of his young self with his parents on the small table.

“You think he’s cute?”

“M-maybe?” You try, but it clicks once you see the disgust in her eyes. “Yes! I do, in fact, find him very attractive. One might even say that he is now my…crush?” 

You pray she doesn’t notice the underlying wince in your words. Nicole shudders, taking a small step away from you. “You need to get your eyes checked or something. I’ve known the guy since we were in diapers, and trust me when I say that he’s nothing but trouble.”

“I won’t do anything, I promise. Besides, I’m sure the crush is just temporary. It’ll blow over before you even know it!” Mainly because you don’t have a crush on the guy in the first place. But you do need to figure out a way to trap him to persuade him into being your model.

“Wait, you met Miles?”

“Why’re you glossing over the fact that she likes him?” Nicole says incredulously, gesturing to you with wide eyes. It’s probably the most expressive you’ve ever seen her, save for the time you invited them to go cafe hopping with you on a sweltering Monday. 

You’d never heard so many variations of curses before, all of which Nicole unintentionally introduced you to. Since then, you’ve learnt to only hang out on cooler days with better weather and cafes within walking distance.

“So?” Michael shrugs nonchalantly, but the amused smile on his lips suggests otherwise. “Why are you so affected?”

“Because it’s my best friend liking Miles Morales - the guy I’ve known since we were babies. He’s not good enough for her.” Nicole decides with a frown. You turn to her, tears brimming in the corner of your eyes as you place your hands on your heart.

“I’m your best friend?” Nicole rolls her eyes at your words, crossing her arms. “You can drop from that tier anytime, so you better watch out.” She replies simply with a halfhearted glare, but her words have no bite to them. Her ears are tinted red.

“Aww,” You coo, throwing your arms around the girl who baulks in surprise, almost falling to the ground had you not steadied both of you. She wriggles under your tight hug, giving up quickly with a groan. 

“Let me get in on that, chicas-” Michael is cut off when you kick his ankle, biting back a pained cry while you continue to hug Nicole, who has a satisfied smirk at your action. “Good job.” She pats your arm, and you reluctantly let go, dramatically wiping the tears away.

At least you succeeded in distracting her.

The rest of the day practically flies by, your body on autopilot and going through the motions of taking out your textbooks and doodling on them. Math, Science, and History were all meaningless in your eyes as you tried to make another plan to meet him. The past three attempts had shown you exactly how difficult it was to meet with the hero, much less alone. 

You’re not one to give up, though. You stare down at the piece of paper filled with doodles and scribbled words — an outline of a plan, circling Spiderman’s name in red. 

Okay, let’s try this again. 

Attempt #1: Meet Him At The Park - The Friendly Way.

You take a tentative glance around. Good, No dogs are in sight. You look over to the park's far end, where you had set up a sign saying that dog treats were being given out for free if they assembled there.

Sometimes, lying is an essential means of survival. Another quick scan of your surroundings confirms that no one is in the path of the taco truck, and feeling only slightly guilty when you spot the owner’s surprised expression, wondering why his usual customers aren’t present. 

However, you try not to linger on that, choosing to double-check if everything you need is on you.

Phone? Check. Earbuds? Check. Wallet? Check. Spiderman?

You grin once you spot the masked hero landing in front of the taco truck, right on schedule. 

Check. 

Standing up, you slowly make your way over, giving him time to place his order. Every step is light, your heart oddly calm as you approach him. Yeah. You got this. It’s just getting him to agree that’s the hard part.

Okay. You got this. Play it cool.

Walking up to the taco truck, you clear your throat, propping your elbow onto the small metal platform near the baskets of condiments. You casually glance at him, scanning his suit from head to toe before meeting his eyes.

“Hey.” 

“Hey,” he replies slowly with a slight tilt of his head, surprised by your sudden presence. He taps his fingers against the cold metal of the taco truck in a steady rhythm. You take a slow breath. You can take your time. It’s just a boy under the mask, after all.

“So, how’s being Spiderman going?” You ask absentmindedly, looking down at your nails and only now noticing that you’re in desperate need of a manicure. 

“It’s going good. And you?”

“Could be better.”

“That doesn’t sound good. Is it anything your friendly neighbourhood Spiderman can help with?” His words are filled with worry, now giving you his full attention.

Got him.

“Well…” You trail off, barely managing to hide the excitement in your eyes and voice. Now’s the time to approach him carefully. If you’re careless, you could lose one of the few opportunities to get him to be your muse. 

“Uh-huh?” He grabs the paper bag of tacos the owner hands him, handing him a crumpled bill from a hidden pocket in his suit with a quick nod of thanks in one smooth movement. However, he hears a slight commotion a short distance away, eyes narrowing as he tries to determine the source.

“I’m an art student, and I need a muse,” You continue, encouraged by his questioning hum and failing to notice the way his gaze is focused on something happening behind you. “So I was thinking-”

“Right, uh, miss. You seem like an absolutely wonderful lady. I’m so sorry, but we’ll have to continue this conversation another day. Duty’s kinda calling right now. I’ll pass by the basketball court tomorrow, and you can ask me your question there?” You can’t tell if he’s smiling, grinning, or even scowling under the mask. But it didn’t exactly sound hostile, so that’s that you suppose.

“Meet me at the sub shop on Fifth Avenue, two lefts after the huge statue and a right at the Lego store. Two-thirty P.M.,” You reply immediately. Why Mr Perez’s shop, in particular, you didn’t know. But you’re not about to chase after his ass again after the last few times. Not a chance in hell.

He agrees with a quick but apologetic nod, already swinging off with his paper bag of tacos and heading toward the angry horde of dog parents around the sign you placed earlier. You watch him land before them, trying to calm the group down.

Well, at least you got an appointment with him tomorrow. The problem now is how to make sure he accepts. Plus, him constantly running off isn’t the most ideal scenario in your situation.

So, you have to make sure he stays put.

You walk off, heading to the sub shop with the beginnings of an idea. (While simultaneously forgetting about the horde of dog parents who’re growing increasingly angrier from the absence of promised dog treats).

— — — — — 

“Mr Perez, nice shirt! Did you separate the whites from the colours? It looks so clean!” You greet as soon as you walk in, taking a deep breath and smiling at the scent of pickle brine. The store is relatively empty, the last customer leaving through the door just as you walked in. 

The store owner walks to the glass door, flipping the sign around to read Closed. He sends you a wary glance, walking back behind the counter to start cleaning up while you lean against the glass display case.

“What do you want?”

“Who said I wanted anything?” 

“You only compliment my laundry when you want something.” It’s true. You do tend to do that. You suppose it’s time to be rid of the habit. But not today, for you have much more important goals to pursue. 

“Okay. I need to borrow the storeroom for, like, a couple of hours tomorrow afternoon. No disturbances, complete privacy. Not even Didi is allowed in.” You get straight to the point, not bothering to beat around the bush.

“...Are you doing drugs?”

“That’s gross. And unsanitary. If I were doing drugs, I’d do it in the Science lab at school.” You point out, scrunching your nose in disgust. 

“Are you smoking? Vaping?”

“No, and no. C’mon, Mr Perez, I thought you knew me better than that!” You huff, though you know that he’s just joking from the amused twinkle in his eyes. 

“Fine. Just give me the signal. Besides, Didi’s at preschool tomorrow till five.” He says simply, wiping down his workstation with a clean cloth. 

“Really? No takebacks!” You say with an exaggerated gasp, not expecting him to actually agree. The bright smile on your face makes him chuckle, shaking his head fondly as he washes up the kitchen knives in the sink. 

“What time will you be coming?”

“Two-thirty. Remember, you promised no questions asked!” You call out over your shoulder as you exit while raising your hand in a quick salute. You saunter on home with your hands in your pockets, chest swelling with pride that you got a guaranteed meeting with the very boy you’ve been trying to convince to be your muse. 

You’ve definitely got this.

— — — — — 

Attempt #2: Kidnap Meet Him At The Sub Store - The Friendly Way.

Two-fifteen P.M.

You glance over at the IKEA clock hanging from the wall opposite you in the storeroom, tying the string securely around the metal shelf. Taking a step back, you survey the setup, scanning it for flaws in your otherwise perfect plan.

You arrange the chair to sit behind a wobbly table that’s about to break any day now due to countless playtimes with Didi’s mischievous ideas. (And maybe some of your own, but Mr Perez doesn’t need to know that.)

The bright light in the slightly cramped storeroom only adds to the ambience (of what, you don’t really know yourself). The punching bag hanging in the corner of the room is definitely no cause for concern. Maybe he’d think that you’re really into exercise. All that’s left is for Spiderman to get caught in your perfect trap. You’re pretty sure he won’t get hurt in the process. 

The only thing left now is to wait. You head out into the front of the store, waving Spiderman over as soon as you see him enter. He follows with a skip in his step, only to slow down when you guide him into the storeroom. 

“Uh…This is new, even for me.” He comments, looking around at the stacked boxes and metal shelves, unsure of what to make of this sudden change in vibe. You gesture at the chair, closing the door behind you. 

“Sorry, I just needed a place away from prying eyes.” You sigh, discreetly watching him take a seat. He does so without hesitation, and you immediately grab the end of the string that’s hooked onto the metal shelf, using all of your strength (and the help of a pulley) to yank it. 

Spiderman yelps, dangling from the ceiling by a tightly secured string around his ankle. “What the-? You said you needed help!” 

“And I do!” You reply, a tinge of desperation in your words. “Just…just hang on.” You breathe out, taking the frying pan on the shelf next to you after securing the string and leaving him dangling still. You approach him, Spiderman failing to notice, too preoccupied with trying to escape.

“Michael better be right about this,” You mumble under your breath, taking a quick swing and hitting the spot on his head that Michael promised would knock anyone out instantly. Spiderman’s eyes close, his cry of protest cut off as his hands fall limply to his sides. 

“Oh.” You stare down at him, squatting down and reaching your hand out to gently massage the spot where you hit him with a guilty smile. You hadn’t expected it to actually work. “Sorry, Morales. My goals aren’t to harm you, promise.”

Standing back up with a wince, you can feel the joints in your body popping from the sudden stretch. You never really bothered with exercise, categorizing your sketching and painting as such.

You huff, grabbing his arms and pulling him across the room after untying him from the string around his ankle. “But one of them might be to start working out,” You say through gritted teeth, finally reaching the punching bag. You take a deep breath, doing your best to pick him up and hold him against it while you tie him up.

“No-” Your muffled cry is cut short when your arms give out, and you fall onto your back with the unconscious hero lying on top of you. You groan, pushing him off you, eyeing the punching bag with distaste.

Another repeated attempt ends in the same result, and your back starts to ache from the impact of the hard surface against your back. You see him starting to stir, your eyes widening in panic, instinctively grabbing the frying pan and hitting him again. He falls back to the floor with a hushed groan while you breathe a sigh of relief.

You stand back up, eyeing the punching bag, before an idea hits you. 

Finally, you sit in the chair in front of the punching bag, taking out your sketchbook from the bag you'd placed on one of the shelves this afternoon and beginning to sketch him leisurely. You spot him slowly blinking, regaining his consciousness as he realises that he’s tied up.

"So..." You drawl, leaning back in your seat with a lazy grin. The city's local hero, Spiderman, dangles upside down in your trap. You actually did it. You got him to stay put.

He struggles to get free from the tightly bound ropes, almost tugging off his mask in the process before giving up seconds after. “Not again…” You hear him groan in defeat, looking back up at you with a deadpan stare.

"I have to admit, I love the new suit." You comment, grabbing a pencil and doing a quick sketch, ignoring his earlier words.

"What do you want from me?"

You pause, looking up from your sketchbook. "You sound pretty young to be a hero." You purse your lips, trying to guess his age.

"W-what? No, I don't." His voice turns gruff, and you chuckle from how obvious he was forcing it to be.

"I don't really want much. Just to draw you is all." You hum, flipping a page and letting pencil meet paper.

"What?"

You don't respond, eyes trained on sketching the dimensions of his midnight black suit. "I like the spray paint."

"Thanks," He's surprised by your comment, hands still furiously working to free himself. 

"Aren't you a villain?" He questions, unable to hold back his curiosity. You weren't really doing anything to him either, not like the muggers or robbers that roam the streets at night.

You were just... drawing him.

"I just thought the suit was cool." You respond simply with a shrug, looking straight at the white material on his mask that hides his eyes.

He flinches, surprised by the sudden eye contact. "And you trapped me because...?"

"I wanted to draw it."

"You could've just asked."

"I tried. You weren't really paying attention, or you weren’t available. Hero duties and all, remember? "

Now that you mentioned it, the hero does remember you from the mugging and the excuses he’d made, shrugging sheepishly in response. 

"Oh. My bad."

The corner of your lips tugs upwards into a slight smile. At least he has the common decency to admit it.

"Could you untie me, though? It's getting a little uncomfortable." He voices out, fingers still trying to wriggle free.

"Sure, but I'll need something in exchange."

He sighs. Of course, you did. People always wanted something from him as Spiderman, be it a photo or to gain clout.

"What is it?" He's wary now.

You grin, hands closing the sketchbook with a loud snap as you place your pencil on your chair, getting up.

"That's easy," You walk towards him with ease, eyes filled with certainty. You're inches away from his upside-down figure, leaning in slightly until your lips are next to where his ear would be under the mask.

"Be my model, Miles Morales.”

He stills at the mention of his name. “Wh-what? I don’t know who this Miles guy is, but I’m obviously not him.” He laughs nervously, shaking his head.

You can practically see the waves of panic flooding through his mind. “You just changed the pitch of your voice,” You point out casually instead, leaning back against the wall with a smirk, your hands in your pockets.

“I’m telling you, I’m not this Miles guy you think I am. Though I’m very sure he may be cool enough to be Spiderman, I am not him.” He almost trips over his words, flinching when you move your hand close to his mask.

“Then I guess you won’t mind if I take this off?” You hum, spotting him trying to use his electric powers to break free. “Don’t bother. The strings are made out of insulated material.”

He flinches away from your fingers brushing against the side of his face, his eyes meeting yours and knowing he’s already lost this battle. “Fine.” He surrenders, his eyes narrowed into a hostile glare directed at you.

“Don’t be like that,” You chide, sitting cross-legged in front of him with a disapproving shake of your head. “Besides, I’m just here to make a deal with you.” 

“Is this about the model thing?”

“Yeap,” You confirm, popping the ‘p’. “Here’s all I’m asking. Let me meet up with you twice a week. I’ll even pay you ten bucks per session. All you gotta do is sit there.” The intensity of his glare lessens somewhat, though you can still sense his wariness. Makes sense, though, considering you’ve just essentially ensured he can’t say no. Besides, your terms and conditions aren’t half bad either.

You wait patiently for his response, giving him time to mull over it. 

“Deal. Now let me go.” 

“Uh-uh, not just yet,” You tut, moving over to your bag, grabbing the makeshift contract you drafted last night, and showing it to him with a triumphant grin. “I even added two different lines for both of your signatures. Spiderman’s and Miles Morales.” 

He rolls his eyes, and you take that as a good sign, cutting him loose. He falls gracefully to the floor, landing in a perfect superhero pose. You applaud, giving yourself a mental pat on the back for staying calm throughout the entire exchange. He takes the pen you hand to him, scrawling his name on the dotted line. You smile widely and keep the contract back in your bag, practically on cloud nine with this accomplishment.

Unfortunately, the euphoria makes you forget you’re still in a cramped storeroom.

Wincing when your elbow knocks against a loosely stacked box, you and Spiderman watch it slowly topple on its side, landing on the floor with a loud bang before looking at each other with wide eyes. 

Okay, so maybe you don’t got this as much as you thought.

You freeze when the door opens, looking behind you to see Mr Perez with his hand on the doorknob. His eyes flit from you to Spiderman, his gaze settling on the open box on the ground with vegetables spilling out of it before looking back at you with furrowed brows.

As soon as your eyes meet, you smile sheepishly. 

“I’ll babysit on Friday.”

— — — — — — —

taglist: (definitely not because I forgot I said I'd tag people lol)

@oh-kurva @brunnetteiwik @queerponcho @sleepingnova @1theestallionyas

[witch-hazels-musings]

Chivalry

warning: princess!reader, knight!character (slight AU* Prince and Princess) | sfw | slight hurt (due to different social statuses, arranged engagements,etc), comfort* (happy ending yayayay) | forbidden love | pre-relationship | character perspective 

citation: *song lyrics - Just for Now, Michael Crean

Knight!Diluc x fm reader | anthology (Albedo, Kaeya, Jean - coming soon)

Diluc

He knew every assignment wouldn’t be enjoyable. As much as he’d prefer to be wandering the plains of Teyvat searching for those who would do his Kingdom harm, it wasn’t possible. Still, out of all the knights, out of all the assignments, why did it have to be this one? 

Diluc sighed and did his best not to roll his eyes as he watched the Princess he was sworn to serve finish her discussion with a foreign dignitary. As the eldest of daughters, she was tasked to handle foreign affairs as well as the kingdoms resources while her younger sister and brother were able to be more free in their day to day. The older brother, the Prince in line for the throne was not well liked which made Diluc assume his sister would be the same. She wasn’t. 

Still, Diluc found most of his time was standing off in the corner while meeting after boring meeting was held in the castle. He’d once climbed the coldest mountain in the land and, honestly, that sounded far more enjoyable than listening to another Fontainian talk down to the person whose patience knew no bottom. 

“I understand you are frustrated by the swiftness of our response,” you said, hand moving to rest against the ambassadors arm. Diluc noted how his face flushed at the contact. “I cannot guarantee we will solve each problem, but rest assured I will not let a day go by without checking in and assessing how we can continue our support.” you bowed slightly and smiled. 

ugh, the tediousness of talking to diplomats, Diluc frowned at it all. 

Once the ambassador left, you wandered back to your seat to gather the notes, forms, and other documents you’d ultimately review until passing out in your room. Dark circles were starting to appear under your eyes from all the sleepless nights. He made his way to you, picking up the stack of books before you could. 

“Is your schedule free?” He asked, twisting slightly away from as you tried to grab the items he picked up. You were stubborn, but so was he. 

“Yes,” you said and sighed, “but not for long. The Favonius knights have requested more arms, and the masons require stone for the eastern wall. I didn’t get to these yesterday, so I’d like to attend to them before dinner.” Settling the items in your arms, you did your best to push the hair that continued to brush against your cheek away with puffs of air. It wasn’t working. 

“Do you not think it is better to rest?” If his superiors were around, they would shame him for speaking so directly. ‘Royalty is to be tended to like a fragile flower, otherwise they will be tarnished,’ he could hear his mentor recite all the while forcing the knights in training to hold 40 lbs barrels over their head. 

You looked into his eyes before moving on to appease him. “You always look after me, Sir Ragnvindr. I’m alright,” you smiled but he could see the exhaustion in your expression. A fragile flower, yeah right. “Anyway, I’m sure you’d much rather be beyond the castle walls.” You reached for the books he was holding, “I know being my guard isn’t very exciting, so please don’t let yourself be trapped for my sake. I can manage to make it back to my room without incident.” 

Your hand touched his on accident. Quickly, you pulled back, apologized, then tried again. With a roll of his eyes, he scooped the items in your arms, adding them to his. 

“S-Sir Ragnvindr!” You protested as he made his way to the door. He was much faster due to his long legs. Diluc couldn’t hide his smirk as he heard you rushing after him. It must have been hard to keep up in a dress as decorated as yours. “Please, it’s too much --” he stopped in front of the door only to feel you bump into him. When he twisted to look, he noticed you cupping your mouth and nose. He swore he saw a dab of color on your cheeks. “Sir, I cannot ask you to --” 

“And yet I can ask you to carry all of this?” He cut you off and watched the implication of his words settle in your mind. Diluc wondered if you disliked the rules and expectations of royalty as much as he did. After all, before he was a knight he was a nobleman - he understood the pressure of this world better than most. 

Deflated, defeated, you backed down. “If you insist.” He could tell you hated being doted on. In every interaction he’d seen between you and an attendant, you were always respectful, helpful, and often insisted upon doing the task yourself. At the end of the day, who could deny the eldest princess her request? Well, other than him --- “But as soon as we get back I can --” 

You were cut off by a voice down the hall. If it was possible for the walls to have ears in this castle. 

Diluc watched as you prepared yourself, stepped into the hallway and greeted the stranger. They were one of the Prince’s scribes, and a rather annoying one to boot. Diluc had a bitter taste in his mouth every time he showed his face. There was just something about the way he looked at you ... 

“I was informed you were free,” he said with his head lifted as if to look down on you. 

“That is the case, but ...” 

“Do come with me then. I have work for you to attend to since it seems you cannot get them done without a watchful eye,” he reached for your wrist and Diluc moved before realizing it. With one step, he was in between the both of you but his cold gaze was seen only by one. The man’s hand retreated so quickly it was like Diluc’s proximity had burned him. 

“The Princess has other priorities at this moment.” 

“How dare --” 

“As the Princess’s guard, I am to ensure she can fulfil her duty to the kingdom.  Do you not think the Ambassador of Fontaine would be surprised to find his request delayed yet again because the Princess was pulled to another task?” Diluc stared the man down, commitment unwavering. He heard you start to say something so he stepped further in front of you. 

“How da- I -- I’ll be speaking to your superior,” the man spat before turning on his heels and loudly walked back the way he came. Diluc didn’t move until he was out of sight. 

“Sir Ragnvindr, you didn’t have to go that far,” you expressed as he turned to face you. Your head had dropped, your eyes looked to the floor while your fingers pinched their neighbors. “I will write a letter to Mrs. Gunnhildr explaining the situation.” 

Diluc wasn’t sure why you were looking after him, he was capable of standing up for himself and dealing with whatever punishment might come his way. Besides, it was bound to be far less painful than watching you spend any amount of time with that man. 

Wait ... what?

“Don’t fret over it. Let’s go,” Diluc quickly passed by you, his head shaking to remove his strange thoughts. He heard you catch up to him. From the corner of his eyes he could see you were still unsettled by what had happened. 

“I um - I do want to thank you.” 

“For?” 

“For standing up for me. I - um - As you know it’s hard for me to say no,” you sent him an appeasing, sad smile. “Though I do feel guilty. Perhaps if I -- ah! Sir--” 

Diluc put his hand against your back and pushed you forward just enough so you couldn’t turn around. “Don’t make me carry you too -” The words fell from his mouth so fast he had to snap his lips closed to not say anymore. 

What in Teyvat was coming over him. You riled him up so much-

You let out a hearty laugh and his heart skipped a beat. “Haha! That would be a sight to see,” you covered your mouth but he wished you wouldn’t. “Sir Ragnvindr carrying the Princess through the halls of the castle. Can you imagine?” 

He could imagine. Though the sight wouldn’t be pretty, nor proper, since the only way he’d see that happening is if he tossed you over his shoulder. Nevertheless, he was glad you were laughing at the idea rather than being appalled. Diluc put his hand back on the items he was carrying now that he knew you weren’t going to rush back down the hall. 

For a moment he listened to the sound of your footsteps, to the soft giggles echoing in the hall. Why was the weight of his armor suddenly so noticeable? 

“You can refer to me by my first name,” Diluc said as your laughter started to fade. 

“Oh, but Sir Ragnvindr is so natural to me.” You tapped your chin before turning to look at him as you walked, “Sir Diluc --” 

“Just Diluc is fine,” 

You paused, unsure of what to say. Eventually, you turned to look down the hall, hands returning to hold onto each other. He wasn’t sure what was going on in your mind but, honestly, he wouldn’t have been prepared even if he did.

“Diluc ...” the sound of his name on your tongue nearly made him fall over. Instinctually, he clenched his jaw over and over again. “Um, actually, if it’s alright with you, I think I’ll stick with Sir. Ragnvindr for now ...” you explained in a panic.

Diluc didn’t dare look at you. What expression would he have it he met your gaze? So, he gave a curt nod and a quick, “Alright,” and the two of you made your way down the hall in silence. 

-- 

Every once in a while you’d try to push him away. Though he wasn’t sure if it was because you needed a moment alone or if his wistful gaze toward the window drew too much attention. Out of the two, he’d much prefer you the latter, especially since his other stare was directed at you.

Weeks went by and he settled into a nice routine. It was difficult when he first arrived, but you asked him on several occasions if there was anything you could do to make his stay more comfortable. Even the smallest things; you did your best to get him what he asked.

Diluc didn’t want for much, so your offers were often left unanswered; however, he did notice a steady supply of grape juice in the kitchen when he was sure there hadn’t been before. He only mentioned it once.

At times he'd forget himself. Forget that he needed to hold an expression of disinterest. Forget to pull himself back when he was starting to soften each time his eyes landed on you, each time you stood close by, each time you turned to search for him.

You found him and he could breathe again. 

He was forgetting how very high the wall was between the two of you and every day he spent in your shadow, it became blurrier and blurrier. 

--

“I’m going to win!” You shouted, hair wiping around your face as you pushed forward. The horse you were riding picked up its pace with a flick of the reigns, pushing you past Diluc. How did he end up racing you again? 

You cackled as you passed by and he couldn’t help but be swept up by the noise. With a deep, “hya!” he squeezed his thighs and tapped his horses belly, urging it to increase its speed. It did, and soon he was rushing past you and laughing at the sound of your fading protests. 

When the path began to taper out, Diluc slowed his horse bit by bit until it was at a standstill. He patted its neck and praised it for its hard work while it raised and lowered its head, breathing heavily. Twisting so he could see behind him, he found you making your way toward him and your voice began to cut through the thicket of trees. 

“---er! --eater!!” You reigned your horse in, coming to a soft canter until stopping beside him. Panting, you repeated yourself, “cheater.” 

“I did no such thing,” 

“You did!” Patting the neck of your horse, you moved up beside him, punching him in the leg when you were close enough. 

“Hey-” 

“Cheater--” You pointed at him, making him laugh. Carefully, he took your hand his his and moved it back toward you. 

“Did you forget I’m also a Calvary Captain?” You scrunched your face in protest but quickly relaxed into realization, “Hah, you did!” 

“Shut up--” Diluc laughed, louder than he had in so long. His hand pressed into his stomach and his eyes began to water. “Stop it --” you pleaded, the notes of laughter laced in your request. “You hardly ever talk about yourself. Sorry for not remembering something you told me almost a year ago.” You turned your head away from him, moved your hands to fix the hair that had fallen free from its holding. He found himself looking a little too long at the back of your neck. 

“I don’t mean poke fun,” there was a stick in your hair but you didn’t seem to notice it. “Here,” with expert skill, he dismounted his horse. In a matter of seconds he had the reigns looped around a low hanging branch and had made his way over to you, his hand resting against the horses neck to let it know he was there. The horse bumped his head and he smiled. “Allow me to help,” he said, offering you his hand. 

“Don’t need it,” you replied, fixing your clothes. You were wearing a pair of form fitting pants and a dark green top that pressing against you underneath a warm, cream vest. It was one of the only times he’d seen you not dolled up in what your maids forced you to wear every morning. He liked it. 

Ignoring his hand, you began to dismount but, as he had expected, it’d been a while since you last rode so you weren’t as graceful as he was. Your hand on the saddle slipped but he was there to catch you. 

“Got you,” he reassured you with an arm wrapped around your back, a hand gripping the waist of your pants before pulling you toward him. Your body collided into his chest. The heat of contact, the wave of your perfume, shampoo, crashed into him causing him to stumble backward. He’d caught whiffs before, hints and hypothesized about what it would be like. He never anticipated becoming overcome by it so intensely.  Diluc held you while your toes scraped the ground, arms coiled around his neck for support. 

Let her go -- he told himself but couldn’t do it. 

“S-Sir Ragnvindr ...” your voice was shaky. He set you down and took several steps back, bowing. 

“Are you alright?” he asked, tone even, professional. 

“Mmhm,” he glanced at you. His jaw clenched at the sight of your discomfort. You wouldn’t make eye contact with him, began to wring your hands like you did when you were uneasy. He wondered if his teeth would break by how hard he bit down. Without saying anything, Diluc grabbed the reigns of your horse and brought it over to his. “Um, that ride made me hungry,” you began so he looked back to you, “those trees provide good shade, if you’d like to eat with me? I brought enough for the both of us.” 

“Alright,” he agreed without protest, grabbing the pack off his horse and brining it to the place you pointed to. You quickly laid out the blanket, taking up space near the tree. He was glad you did, it would be much harder for anything to attack you with it at your back. Diluc offered the basket to you which you took and began to put several items on a plate. Soon, you offered one to him.

“I tried to bring things you’d like,” Diluc looked at the plate. He wasn’t planning on eating anything but when he saw several of his favorite items, he changed his mind. 

“I thought you didn’t remember things about me?” He teased, a rare occurrence.

You pursed your lips into a pout before answering, “I can remember some things.” 

“I see.” He popped one of the finger foods into his mouth. The taste wasn’t exactly the way he imagined but it was still good. “Thank you for requesting these, Princess.” 

“Y-You’re welcome,” you replied, making your own plate. “but - um - I made them. So, if they aren’t very good you don’t have to eat them.” 

Diluc looked at you with awe, “you made these?” you nodded, “when did you find the time?” 

Shrugging, you took a bite of your own food. “I had a spare moment. Though it was hard to keep it a surprise when you’re always around.” You stole a peek at him, “Are they good?” 

Diluc felt his lips curl into a smile as he looked at the food on his plate. Now that he gave them a careful eye, he could see they were done by novice hands, “Very,” he told you and ate another. 

The two of you enjoyed the rest of the picnic in quiet peace. Diluc leaned back against another tree, let his body stretch out on the blanket while you maintained your trained posture. Legs bent to your side, back straight. The wind tussled your hair, making it difficult for you to review the paperwork you brought. Of course you’d still be working, even outside of the confines of the castle.

Soon, a soft hum drifted on the breeze. Peeking through half-closed eyes, he watched you sing to yourself. He’d seen you do it times before but, just as you did then, you stopped. “Sorry,” you appologized. 

It was so comfortable, so relaxed that he couldn’t help but close his eyes. The horses were close by that if they sensed anything he could hear their agitation. The woods had been cleared prior to this excursion anyway, he made sure of that - perhaps that’s when you found the time to make him lunch.

Funny, while he was scouting thinking of you, you were thinking of him. The thought made his chest tight. 

“I don’t mind.” 

“It’s not proper.” 

Who told you that? He wondered. “I’m the only one here.” 

“Somehow that doesn’t help,” you chuckled and he swore your cheeks changed color but maybe that was the light passing through the shifting leaves above, “um, do you have any requests?” 

You’d never asked him before. He wasn’t sure what to say. “Your favorite one then?” 

“Okay.” The world grew quiet. As if it were settling to listen to your song. When you began he lifted his arms, folding them behind his head like a pillow, eyes closing again. 

Take me And I will fix you for the night Hold those breaking lights Dreaming past those eyes

feel me  breathe me to the sky ... 

The song was gentle, sad. He’d never heard it before so he paid careful attention to the words.

So scream Your voice it can't be heard To no one else but you So sing as loud as rain And run until you break

Diluc’s brow furrowed at the sound of your trembling voice, at the motion of your hand as it brushed over your eyes. You tried to keep it in but didn't make it. Your hands covered your face as you cried; cried in the wind, cried under the sunshine sky, cried in front of the man who realized, in this moment, he never wanted to see you this way. 

And yes Just for now Just for these small hours You can fall beneath the ground You can break...

...without the pain

You cried, bent over in the shade of the tree and all Diluc could do was watch and wonder why.

--

A few days later he learned the truth. Your brother had convinced the king to accept a proposal for your hand without consulting you. Somehow this was still endorsed, still expected. You were forced to accept it but Diluc couldn’t. 

He rushed through the halls practically burning the tapestries that lined them. He didn’t even wait to knock on the door to your inner chamber, he just opened it, freezing when he found you sitting on the couch as if this were any other day. 

It wasn’t any other day to him. 

He wanted to fight, wanted to yell, wanted to free you from your station. He swore to protect you, to shield you. So how could he let this happen? Diluc was in turmoil - every inch of him was struggling; strangled by the expectations of his duty and his devoted heart. 

When you heard him enter, you looked up from the paperwork on the coffee table, eyes puffy, swollen - how much had you cried today? 

“I wasn’t expecting you, Sir Ragnvindr,” you explained, but the tightness in your throat told him you were suffering. How terrible was this suitor? What archaic laws shackled you to him and not ... 

Diluc made his way toward you. 

“I’m sorry but I’d like some time a-alone,” your voice cracked. He didn’t listen. With ease, he knelt on one knee before you. His eyes searched your face until your red-tinted eyes landed on him. “P-please,” you tried to smile, tried to pretend but he was okay if you didn't. He rested his arm on his knee and touched your fingers. Biting your lip, you looked at him and shook your head. Your breathing became unsteady, tears pooled in your eyes. “I’m alright,” you lied. With every tear-drop you lied. A quite sob escaped your throat so you covered your face with your hands and said the one thing you shouldn’t have, “Diluc --” 

Diluc, going against everything he was taught, everything he swore to uphold, to commit to, opened himself and took you against him. His arms wrapped delicately around you, his hand found the back of your head, fingers weaving in between the strands of your perfectly brushed hair. 

“I’ll fix it,” he vowed, knowing he couldn’t. 

-- 

The following weeks dragged by. Preparations for your engagement were planned. Even though you were in the room when the decisions were made, you gave no opinion on them. Not the flowers, not the dress, not the food which you had little interest in lately. It seemed all you could do was devote yourself to your work and nothing else. 

Diluc lay awake at night thinking about how to solve this problem. What could he do to break off the engagement. Surely he could take drastic actions - what was a life of imprisonment if you could be free? His step-brother told him to be patient, be rational, but his heart refused to let him. He was spiraling, and jealousy was right in the middle of it all. 

Agitated, he lifted himself from his bed and made his way to the door that led to your chambers. On the other side you were sleeping, safe, untouched by anyone. He pressed his forehead against the harsh wood, gripped the doorknob with so much strength he worried it would bend to his will. He wanted to see you, wanted to hold you - to keep you - but you weren’t his. Would never be his. 

Shaking, he pried himself away, threw on a shirt, and made his way down the hall to cool off. 

On the other side of the door, you sat with your knees to your chest, head resting against the wood with eyes flooded in tears as you silently cried in the color of the rising sun. 

--

The day of your suitor arrival had finally come. You did your best to smile, to hold yourself high. You’d practice these skills for so many years but Diluc could tell you were struggling. As you rose from your chair to greet the man who’d soon be your husband, Diluc took a step closer to you hoping to ease your anxiety.

“Your majesty,” he bowed, low and proper. His smile was unsettling, his eyes darted around the room until they landed on you and the flash of excitement Diluc saw in them made him drive his claymore deeper into the ground. “Ah, and my beautiful fiancé,” he took several steps toward you so you extended your hand as far as it could go to create space. Diluc was enraged at how familiar he was; grabbing your hand and pressing his lips to it. Rubbing your arm without a care. The man flashed his eyes to Diluc but Diluc didn’t turn away. 

“Welcome to the Royal Capital, Prince Calmin Velena. I’m sure you are tired from your journey. Please do take --” 

“I am eager to hear of the wedding plans and celebrations, your majesty,” the man interrupted you, his hand still holding yours as he pulled you toward him and the king. Diluc had to restrain himself from cutting that hand off. “Am I to be boarded next to my sweet Princess? I do wish to spend as much time with her as possible,” he glanced back at you and, instinctually, you tried to retreat toward Diluc. 

“Prince Calmin, do understand that while you are in our kingdom, there are certain, etiquettes, that must be followed. You will have your own room in our guest quarters. They are lavishly furnished as you will find.” The King gestured to an attendant who appeared suddenly before the group. With a scoff, the prince released you allowing you to go back to your original spot. Diluc watched how your hand shook as you hid it behind your back.

You can’t protect her if you kill a prince, he reminded himself. 

“Yes of course, then I will retire for now. Until then,” he turned and blew you a kiss before following the attendant out of the grand hall. At which time you collapsed into your chair. 

“Daughter --” The King rose from his seat, moving toward you but before he could continue, your brother got in the way. 

“Father, don’t mind her, we have much to discuss.” The King looked at you and you shot him a desperate look. A pleading, ‘please’ to which he closed his eyes and followed after your brothers persistent pushing. 

When they left, you tried to stand but found your legs unsteady. Diluc noticed, offering you his hand, never taking it away. 

“I feel unwell,” you whispered while other attendants moved about the room. 

“Let’s away for now,” with ease, he pulled his cape around you, blocking you from the eyes of the would-be onlookers. You tucked yourself under his arm, brushing against his hips every once in a while. 

Would this be all he ever had? Fleeting, accidental touches while that rat had the rest of you. The thought made his chest burn, blood boil.

Diluc looked at you, vowing to ensure nothing but his presence could get close. 

--

Every interaction he saw the two of you have made him furious. Prince Calmin was disrespectful to you. He flirted with others in front of you, talked down to you as if you were nothing, second guessed your decisions and even tried to take over your duties. The amount of times you had to quell the fires of the ambassadors because of his stupidity -- it was giving Diluc a headache. 

Complaints were passed to the King but your brother always managed to stop them. Somewhere in the back of Diluc’s mind he suspected foul-play. Why was this man being pushed so hard when - even if he hated to admit it - there were other, better suitors out there. Just what was your brother playing at? 

Diluc did his best to investigate, asked his most trusted to assist him when he couldn’t. The day’s to your wedding were drawing closer so he didn’t dare leave your side. Not while that snake continued to slither his way into places he wasn’t wanted. 

Several nights before the wedding, Diluc heard your voice on the other side of the shared door. You sounded upset. When he went to investigate, he found Prince Calmin pushing his way inside your room. It took all of his strength not to break every bone in his body but - luckily - the prince backed down, running away as fast as he could, and you were able to quell the rage in him by reassuring him you weren't hurt. 

Even still, Diluc spent the rest of that night in front of your door. 

What nightmares would await him in the next few days. What nightmares would befall you that he couldn’t stop. He needed a solution, fast. 

-- 

The day before the wedding came, and while others were celebrating in high spirits, you did your best to keep your mask up. Even though you smiled and acted pleasant, people were noticing that you didn’t stand in the middle of the room like brides often do, didn’t raise your glass to the toasts wishing you well, didn’t react when your fiancé touched you. 

You were like a statue. A commodity. And your faithful knight was forced to watch. 

“Hey there,” a familiar voice broke his concentration. His brother, Kaeya, had slipped into the festivities without an invitation, as customary. 

Diluc stood with his arms crossed in the dark shadows of the grand hall. Eyes locked on your ‘would be husband’ - searching for the slightest movement that would allow him to end his life.

If he hurt you, would the king pardon the knight sworn to protect the princess? He clenched his jaw. 

“Did you find anything?” Diluc asked, desperate. Kaeya could sense it too and let out a sigh. 

“Just tell her you love her.” 

“Kaeya -” 

“Perhaps a kings heart can be swayed by the profession of true lov-” 

“Did you find anything?” Diluc barked, causing Kaeya to throw his hands up. 

“Alright, here,” Kaeya offered a roll of papers to Diluc who snatched them faster than lightning. “You’re senses are always spot on ya know - well, except for where it counts.” 

Diluc read the papers over and over again. When he was done, he looked at Kaeya.

“I’m good, what can I say?” Kaeya shrugged but Diluc was already gone, “I’ll take my thank you in a bottle of wine. Do you hear me??” Kaeya shouted, throwing his hands in the air when he got no reply.

Diluc’s heart pounded as he pushed through the crowd. Nothing was set in stone yet, this was it. The chance to save the love of his life. 

“My king!” He shouted over the crowd, through the music bouncing around the room. He picked up the pace, running. “King!” 

The royal family and its intruder looked toward him. You sat up in your chair - the first sign of life you’d had all evening. The crown on your head slipped but you didn’t fix it. 

“What is the meaning of this?” Your brother stood, the scraping of his chair putting a stall on the noise in the chamber. “How dare you interrupt us!” 

“I apologize king,” Diluc knelt, bowed his head and lifted himself up again before extending the rolled up parchment toward the King. “I will take whatever punishment you decide fitting for my interruption, but first, read this.” Diluc held out the documents but when the Prince tried to snatch them away, Diluc grabbed his wrist and shoved him back. 

“Sir Ragnvindr!” The King stood and the knights in his charge moved out from the shadows. 

“Wait!” You shouted while your brother tried to scramble for the document. Unfortunately, you had a hard time getting any closer as your fiancé yanked you back toward him. 

The parties’ attention turned to the commotion at the royal table. Diluc held his ground even as the threat of drawn weapons drew closer. “I have entrusted you with the safety of my daughter and yet you slander this celebration?” 

“Her safety is my highest priority which is why you must read this!” The prince grabbed the documents before the King could and Diluc felt his heart drop in his chest. 

“What rubbish. Have I not tried to warn you father, this knight has means to harm my precious sister. He must be dealt with -- away with him!” Diluc refrained from drawing his sword, if he did he would look even more like the enemy. 

“Your majesty, please,” Diluc bowed to hide the fear in his eyes but also show he meant no harm. Please -- please hear him -- Hands touched Diluc’s shoulders and began to pull him back. He could hear your shouts and the quieting demands of your soon to be husband. 

I failed 

“Is this true?” 

“Be still.” The King demanded and the room stilled. Diluc’s head shot up, his heart flipping as the king reached for the parchment. The prince did his best to plead, to explain that it was nothing but when the King didn't back down, he reluctantly handed it over. Diluc’s heart pounded, he felt his hands burn as he looked on only to find you still bound by the hands of that man. 

Read faster, be begged.

“Yes, Majesty,” Diluc confirmed. “Take notice of the seal on the last page.” The King flipped to the last page, grimacing at what he saw. When he snapped his head to Prince Calmin the fear in the man’s eyes was clear. 

“Unhand my daughter. Seize him!” 

“W-What?” the prince stuttered, backing up with you in his grip.

Your brother reached for the king's arm but was shoved off. “Father what are you doing!?” 

“Be silent, child.” The King moved toward Prince Calmin who grabbed a knife hidden in his clothes and held it out, while his other hand held tightly onto your hair.

“Back away! G-Got it?? I-I was promised -- you promised me!” Calmin screamed at the prince who was cowering in his chair. The commotion grew as the kings guard closed in but all Diluc saw was the fear in your eyes, and how your trembling hand extend to him. 

“Let her go,” Diluc reached for the table and tossed it out of the way. The thick wood and metal bindings kept it in place as it slid down the steps narrowly avoiding several patrons as it went. He didn’t care about them, he didn’t care about anyone, he only cared about - “I won’t say it again.” 

Diluc’s claymore appeared in his hand, ablaze. The Prince forcefully moved you in between him and the fire but Diluc knew enough about his vision to control every microscopic flame. 

“Get off her!” In an instant, the room was filled with a flash of light. You covered your face as blue and green flames whipped past you, smacking directly into your captor. He screamed, releasing you, shoving you. As you stumbled forward Diluc caught you so you wouldn't fall. 

“What have you done?! You’ll pa-pay for this ---” Calmin screamed, toppling over in pain as flames clung to his skin. Diluc held you against him so you couldn’t see and hoped the sound of his cries wouldn’t linger in your memory forever. 

The king's guard shackled and carried Calmin away. They hauled off the prince as well, who in a state of bumbling cries revealed he had plotted against the kingdom for riches, and a power greater than visions. As long as he got the princess to marry this 'prince'.  It was through this plot the king learned of an uprising to the east, spurred on the by hands of the northern archon. If they had been successful, the kingdoms resources would have been wiped out.

You slid your arms around Diluc, unwilling to let go and placed his hand on your back. he’d thank Kaeya profusely for saving more than he could ever imagine. 

--

As the party goers were escorted out of the hall, and the energy in the room died down, Diluc stewarded you to the balcony for air.  

“You’re shaking,” he commented, removing his cape and draping it over your shoulders. 

“How could he do this ...” you mumbled, “my own brother.” 

“But, y-you saved me --” 

“Power and corruption are one of many slivers of the darkness that plagues this world. I never wished for you to be exposed to them.” Diluc rubbed your arms, called on his vision to warm you as best as he could. He might have saved you from a sham of a marriage but he failed everywhere else. “I am beside myself for what has happened to you,” he lifted your chin, looked at you but wished he could do more. 

This proposal was one of many you'd get. How was he going to survive the next one?

“Did I?” 

You began to speak but the sound of footsteps interrupted you. Diluc took several steps back and bowed. 

“My daughter, how are you?” 

“I’m alright,” you extended your hand toward the King and he pulled you close. Diluc kept his gaze to the ground. 

“You are unharmed?” 

“Yes,” the King breathed a sigh of relief. He took note of the color wrapped around you, turning his attention to the knight at your side. 

“And you, Sir Ragnvindr?” 

“I am fine, King,” he bowed again, missing the expression you sent to him. 

“Good. Then, if you can spare us a moment I’d like to converse with my daughter in private.” 

“Of course,” Diluc excused himself through the balcony door but made sure to keep you in his line of sight.

--

For several days after, Diluc couldn’t get close to you. He was frustrated, annoyed that his duties kept pulling him away. He rarely fought assignments, but this constant distance was making him insubordinate. 

Finally, he was allowed to return to the castle but no matter where he looked he couldn’t find you. Every room he searched was empty, even your chambers had looked unused for days. The pain in his chest began to burn his throat. 

Where were you - what happened to you - why couldn’t he find you

A figure moved in his peripherals, he spun toward it -- 

“Ah, there you are.” The Kings voice shattered his focus. Within seconds, Diluc was kneeling. “Oh, well. Always do dutiful. Please rise, my boy,” the King chuckled and Diluc did as told. 

“Your majesty. How can I be of service?” 

The King made his way to Diluc who’s head had stayed lowered since the King called on him. There was an uncomfortable silence blanketing the scene, he did his best not to fidget. 

“Diluc Ragnvindr,” hearing his full name, Diluc lifted his eyes but kept his head lowered, “You have sworn to protect my eldest daughter, is that true?” 

“Y-Yes your majesty.” 

“Does that also include her heart?” 

Diluc was hesitant, but he straightened to his full height, coming into direct eye contact with the King. “Sir?” 

“I have watched you care for her, help her, protect her, and though there are suitors who do the same there are none whom she looks at the way she does you.” 

Diluc could hardly breathe. 

“Would you protect my daughters heart the same way you have protected her life?” 

“Yes.” Diluc spoke with conviction. Unsure if what he was vowing too was the one thing his heart yearned for. As stupid he was to believe it, he let himself. 

“Then,” the King took Diluc’s hand in his, one resting on the top and the other cupping the bottom, “You have my blessing. Though I should hardly have the authority to give it.” 

“... I ...” 

“Go. She’s waiting on the balcony.” 

Diluc looked toward the doorway. He swallowed, swore his heart was going to break out of his chest and kill him. He loved you. He wasn’t supposed to - told himself he wouldn’t and yet 

he loved you 

“E-Excuse me,” Diluc bowed, slipped free of the Kings embrace and moved toward the one thing he had wanted but was never allowed. 

There you were, standing with your hands on the marble railing. Your back too him, hair fluttering in the wind. The gown you wore was beautiful. Long trains of white with thick red fabric billowing out behind you. 

Diluc called out your name and, slowly, you turned toward him. He didn’t move, you didn’t move. 

“Did you see the king?” You asked and when he nodded you smiled with tears rolling down your cheeks. Diluc walked toward you as if he were in a dream. “What’s your decision? Could you ever love the princess you swore fealty to--” 

Suddenly, he moved faster than he ever had. His hands cupped your face as he kissed you. He’d never known such a feeling as your lips. Never thought warm tears would feel so invigorating against his hands. 

He had you 

He finally had you 

“Marry me,” he professed above your lips. 

“Tomorrow?” You teased but he didn’t protest. If he were allowed, he’d marry you this instant if it meant you could spend one second more as his wife. 

Laughing, with love rushing through his veins, he hoisted you into the air and let you fall against him as you cupped his face and kissed him in the mid-day sun.

“Wherever you go, whatever you do,” he said in between kisses, “I will follow you. I am yours --” 

“And you are mine,” you vowed. 

@sarahslolitaportfolio​ (these are gonna be long soooo i’m making it a series lol) 

[kingofpopmj]

Conscious Decision

Part 1

July 14th, 1988

I’ve just landed in London after a seven hour flight. My best friend is about to perform his first of five shows tonight at Wembley Stadium. It’s history in the making. I couldn’t miss it.

As my feet carry me down the steps to baggage claim, I feel heaviness grow in my chest. I’ve never felt it this intensely before. I try to brush it off as excitement, but it’s more. It’s different. It’s terrifying. I don’t understand it, but I can’t- I refuse to think about it.

I scanned the room as I waited for my luggage. Through the sea of people I see a white sign with thick black letters reading:

'Sunshine'

Every uncertainty vanishes as if it was never there to begin with.

I’m home.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t my favorite bonus daughter” I’m met with the most loving smile from the one and only Katherine Jackson.

“Mama Kay” I’m instantly enveloped in her embrace. She gives the best hugs.

“I’m so happy to see you” She beamed placing a kiss on my cheek “This is going to be the best surprise ever.”

“I can’t wait. Thank you so much for helping me plan everything.”

We left the airport a few minutes later once I retrieved my luggage. The ride to the hotel felt like a lifetime. I was beyond anxious and I could feel Katherine studying my every move. It’s no surprise. She’s always understood me better than I understood myself.

The car comes to a stop in front of the most beautiful hotel. As we step out of the car we are met with loads of people. We link arms walking through to the lobby, standing side by side in the elevator and walking through the hotel room threshold. I do my best to avoid Katherine’s inquisitive gaze, but once the door shut behind us she speaks up.

“Why are you so tense? You don’t think he’ll be thrilled to see you? Why are you so nervous to see my boy? When is the last time you two spoke?”

“I’m not. I mean we’re best friends. We share phone calls often, but we haven’t seen each other in person for a few months. I’m just excited.” I responded hoping that she wouldn’t push further.

“Darling, I’ve known you your whole life. I’ve known Michael his whole life. The two of you are as kind hearted as you are stubborn. You’re destined for more, but I think you already know that.”

“Mama Kay, that’s…” I quickly stop myself. “I’m not sure I’m following.”

“Oh honey, you and Michael are so much alike, especially when it comes to playing dumb.” she took my hand in hers “You are both terrible at it”

“That’s not nice” I dramatically gasped. We shared a laugh, then she continued…

“I want the best for all my babies. And yes you fall into that category.” She sat on the small sofa and patted the spot next to her. I took a deep breath before joining her.

“You love my boy” She calmly stated. I knew she’d see right through me. This is humiliating.

“Michael? Well, I mean of course but—”

“No buts. Talk to me honey” she gave me that look that only mothers can achieve.. they use it to suck the truth out of you. And damn it was working.

I looked into her eyes and saw genuine love and concern. I could never lie to her. I could never keep anything from her. I’ve never had to, but this can change everything. I can’t just blurt it out. It would affect everyone. It could ruin everything.

“I’m so scared. It’s pitiful really.” The heaviness in my chest decreasing slightly as the confession left my lips.

“Sunshine, we all get scared sometimes, but believe me when I tell you, the truth will set you free.” She reached over and wiped my tears away

“I have no idea when it happened, when it evolved. I’ve always loved him, but it changed at some point. Suddenly, I didn’t love him as just my best friend.. I don’t want to lose him. I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want to lose my chosen family.”

“Oh honey, you could never lose us. Jackson’s are impossible to get rid of. Do you hear me?” She lightly chuckled before looking back at me “I would never pressure you to tell him. I apologize if I pressured you to confide in me. I just wanted you to know that it’s okay. There’s no need to be afraid. You can always trust me. I’m your safe place. Whatever you choose to do, I will support you.”

“You always know what to say. This has been weighing heavy on my heart for so long. It wasn’t until now that I felt like I can breathe. I’m glad I could finally say it out loud and feel that relief even if only for a moment.” I rest my head on her shoulder as she gently caressed my hair

“I’ll leave you with this. I know each of my babies better than anyone. Michael, he is different from any of my other boys. He’s in a league of his own. To him love is like breathing. It comes natural to him. Now, with that said, Michael being in love that is a whole different story. It’s complex. It’s rare. It is well thought out. It is a conscious decision. There is no search for completion or wholeness because you are already complete on your own, but together you are more. For Michael to be in love it consists of his heart, mind, body and soul choosing another. The stars must align and all must be in agreement. It’s once in a lifetime. However, it wasn’t until I saw him with you that I understood that important difference. Michael doesn’t do anything just to do it. He is intelligent and thoughtful that way. I know you are both afraid, but there is no running from it. My baby boy is in love with you.”

Sitting in a comfortable silence I had no idea what to say or do next. I slowly pushed myself off the couch and began pacing the room. Before the panic attack could reach its crescendo; I heard Katherine’s calming voice bringing me back to reality.

“Sunshine, just breathe.”

“I need to see him.” pacing coming to a halt I turned to face her.

“Right now? What about surprising him tonight?” Katherine waited for an explanation.

“I’m making a conscious decision.” I smiled taking a deep breath “I choose Michael. I choose more.”

“Well then let’s go track down Mr. Jackson.” Katherine had this look on her face that told me everything I needed to know.

#1. She already knew this would be the outcome of our little pep talk.

#2. She was actively attempting to mask how ecstatic she was at the fruition of her plan.

#3. The most important part. The key to a happy ending.

She knew exactly where to find Michael.

There it is!

I have a few ideas for how to move forward with this story. This can be a great series if y’all like this first part. Let me know! Thank you for reading I hope you enjoyed it!

[tsarinatorment]

Michael Yew's Fatal Flaw

This meta is the fault of @apollosgiftofprophecy who made the questionable decision of asking about Michael's fatal flaw in my vicinity the other day.

People who have been following me for a while may recall I once answered an ask about Apollo kid fatal flaws, and mentioned Michael there. Please ignore what I said back then because I'd barely even started picking him apart to see what made him tick, and my conclusions there have since been deemed rather surface-level!

The first question, of course, is what is a fatal flaw? What makes it different from a regular character flaw? The clue's in the name, I think - fatal flaw is one that's most likely to one day result in the hero's death, as Annabeth also suggests in Sea of Monsters:

“I don’t know, Percy, but every hero has one. If you don’t find it and learn to control it … well, they don’t call it ‘fatal’ for nothing.”

Athena gives us a little more to go on in The Titan's Curse:

"In each case, your loved ones have been used to lure you into Kronos's traps. Your fatal flaw is personal loyalty, Percy. You do not know when it is time to cut your losses. To save a friend, you would sacrifice the world. In a hero of the prophecy, that is very, very dangerous." I balled my fists. "That's not a flaw. Just because I want to help my friends—" "The most dangerous flaws are those which are good in moderation," she said. "Evil is easy to fight. Lack of wisdom… that is very hard indeed."

Of course, she's talking specifically to Percy about his flaw here, but there are certainly broader points to be inferred from this. When you break down all her warnings, it boils down near enough to "your fatal flaw is one you either cannot fight, or do not want to fight, because you think it is right/justified", which is interesting. It's a flaw that you don't, necessarily, recognise as a flaw, which makes it difficult to do anything about because how can something that's right be wrong?

As Athena says, the most dangerous flaws are those which are good in moderation - flaws that, in most situations, actually help, or are perceived to do so. These are the flaws most likely to kill the hero - and maybe others, as well.

With that out of the way, let's start picking apart Michael properly.

Generally, I see anger, pride or stubbornness put forwards as suggestions for his fatal flaw, so I'll look at each of those and see how well they actually fit. On top of that, I'm also going to explore two other contenders that I've come to notice from the hundreds of times I've re-read his scenes - protectiveness, and love.

First up, let's talk about Anger.

Anger is the one that seems to spring to mind most readily for some people (myself included), and it's hardly surprising given his introductory scene:

She was in the midst of yelling at Michael Yew, the new head counselor for Apollo, which looked kind of funny since Clarisse was a foot taller. Michael had taken over the Apollo cabin after Lee Fletcher died in battle last summer. Michael stood four feet six, with another two feet of attitude. He reminded me of a ferret, with a pointy nose and scrunched-up features—either because he scowled so much or because he spent too much time looking down the shaft of an arrow. "It's our loot!" he yelled, standing on his tiptoes so he could get in Clarisse's face. "If you don't like it, you can kiss my quiver!" [...] I couldn't believe Clarisse and Michael standing over her, arguing about something as stupid as loot, when she'd just lost Beckendorf. "STOP IT!" I yelled. "What are you guys doing?" Clarisse glowered at me. "Tell Michael not to be a selfish jerk." "Oh, that's perfect, coming from you," Michael said.

(As an aside, I love Michael's "kiss my quiver" line because hip quivers are very much a thing and if you think of his quiver as on his hip instead of his back... he's basically saying "kiss my ass" but in a kid-book-friendly way)

Michael's introduction is full of aggression - he's standing on tiptoes, getting "in Clarisse's face", and yelling at her. To make matters worse, it's in front of a grieving Silena which makes him (and Clarisse, but we've already had four books on how much Clarisse can be a bitch in Percy's opinion) look incredibly callous and uncaring. Percy's rather unflattering description about "two feet of attitude" and "because he scowled so much" adds to the overall impression that Michael's a right piece of work as well. Thanks, Percy.

It's a good introduction, though. This is memorable, as far as character introductions go (far more memorable than the first time we're introduced to Beckendorf, or Silena, etc.), and it's full of personality - personality that says Michael is not afraid to throw hands and will do it anywhere, anytime. It directly opposes him with Clarisse, but in such a way that makes them seem like similar characters, and we know anger/rage is one of Clarisse's traits as well.

This scene isn't a one-off, either. We get the full feud against the Ares cabin, which Michael spearheads:

We ducked as Michael Yew's chariot dive-bombed an Ares camper. The Ares camper tried to stab him and cuss him out in rhyming couplets. He was pretty creative about rhyming those cuss words. "We're fighting for our lives," I said, "and they're bickering about some stupid chariot." "They'll get over it," Annabeth said. "Clarisse will come to her senses."

The fact that it's Clarisse, not Michael, that Annabeth thinks is going to stand down also says a lot about how she sees the pair of them, and she must know Michael reasonably well, so this adds another note to the impression that Michael can be even more unreasonable than Clarisse (although it should also be noted that in this feud Michael is the one in the right, and Chiron has said as much to the campers, or at least the head counsellors - and of course from a narrative point of view, Clarisse is a far more familiar character for readers).

Michael himself also admits later on that he lost his temper with Clarisse again off-screen:

Michael shrugged. "Yeah, well, I called her some names when she said she still wouldn't fight. I doubt that helped. Here come the uglies!"

Those names certainly weren't ones for polite company - or a children's book. I think we can confidently say that Michael certainly has a temper, much like his father is legendary for.

But is it a fatal flaw? Well, sadly we have a scene that's implied to be Michael's death scene (I say implied because we never saw a body and a lot of things don't quite add up, so I prefer to think of him as not-dead, but for the purposes of this meta we'll consider it his death scene), so let's go look at that.

He struck the bridge with the butt of his scythe, and a wave of pure force blasted me backward. Cars went careening. Demigods—even Luke's own men—were blown off the edge of the bridge. Suspension cords whipped around, and I skidded halfway back to Manhattan. I got unsteadily to my feet. The remaining Apollo campers had almost made it to the end of the bridge, except for Michael Yew, who was perched on one of the suspension cables a few yards away from me, His last arrow was notched in his bow.

Michael's final stand happens immediately after several demigods - including his own siblings - are just blown clean off the bridge by Kronos. Is it a decision spurred by anger after things going wrong after they were finally going right? It would make sense.

However, there is one big issue with anger as his fatal flaw. Obviously, Michael does have this temper, and it does get out of hand, but we only ever see it get out of hand in the (relative) safety of camp. The Michael we see in Manhattan actually seems very calm and in control the entire time. He's observant and quick-witted, and is the only head counsellor to spot (or at least verbalise) a potential flaws in Percy and Annabeth's plan.

"He's right," Annabeth said. "The gods of the wind should keep Kronos's forces away from Olympus by air, so he'll try a ground assault. We have to cut off the entrances to the island." "They have boats," Michael Yew pointed out. An electric tingle went down my back. Suddenly I understood Athena's advice: Remember the rivers. "I'll take care of the boats," I said. Michael frowned. "How?" "Just leave it to me," I said.

Of course, Percy being the son of Poseidon can plug that massive gap, but it took Michael asking the question for him to make the important connection that he needed to.

This calmness continues into the battle itself, as well.

Michael Yew ran up to us. He was definitely the shortest commando I'd ever seen. He had a bandaged cut on his arm. His ferrety face was smeared with soot and his quiver was almost empty, but he was smiling like he was having a great time. "Glad you could join us," he said. "Where are the other reinforcements?" "For now, we're it," I said. "Then we're dead," he said. [...] "We have to fall back," Michael said. "I've got Kayla and Austin setting traps farther down the bridge." "No," I said. "Bring your campers forward to this position and wait for my signal. We're going to drive the enemy back to Brooklyn." Michael laughed. "How do you plan to do that?" I drew my sword. "Percy," Annabeth said, "let me come with you." "Too dangerous," I said. "Besides, I need you to help Michael coordinate the defensive line. I'll distract the monsters. You group up here. Move the sleeping mortals out of the way. Then you can start picking off monsters while I keep them focused on me. If anybody can do all that, you can." Michael snorted. "Thanks a lot."

No temper tantrums, no yelling like he did with Clarisse earlier - he's matter of fact when he realises they don't really have reinforcements (not knowing, of course, about Percy's little Styx bath), he doesn't argue with Percy when Percy starts taking command. He continues to say his piece and get his point across, but at no point do we ever get the sense that Michael is anything other than perfectly in control at any point during the battle - which is not what you would expect from a rage-based fatal flaw.

For example, contrast Michael's scenes with Clarisse later in the battle:

The real Clarisse looked up at the drakon, her face filled with absolute hate. I'd seen a look that intense only once before. Her father, Ares, had worn the same expression when I'd fought him in single combat. "YOU WANT DEATH?" Clarisse screamed at the drakon. "WELL, COME ON!" She grabbed her spear from the fallen girl. With no armor or shield, she charged the drakon.

and

"I AM CLARISSE, DRAKON-SLAYER!" she yelled. "I will kill you ALL! Where is Kronos? Bring him out! Is he a coward?" "Clarisse!" I yelled. "Stop it. Withdraw!" "What's the matter, Titan lord?" she yelled. "BRING IT ON!" There was no answer from the enemy. Slowly, they began to fall back behind a dracaenae shield wall, while Clarisse drove in circles around Fifth Avenue, daring anyone to cross her path. The two- hundred-foot-long drakon carcass made a hollow scraping noise against the pavement, like a thousand knives. Meanwhile, we tended our wounded, bringing them inside the lobby. Long after the enemy had retreated from sight, Clarisse kept riding up and down the avenue with her horrible trophy, demanding that Kronos meet her battle.

Calm and collected whomst? Not to say that Clarisse's temper isn't understandable here, but this fits much more in line with Athena's description of a fatal flaw - one that seems justified, right, even (and later on, Clarisse gets frozen by a Hyperborean Giant, so this does come back to bite her!), as opposed to the way Michael seems to stay in control of his temper even when his siblings are being killed around him.

With all that in mind, while I willa gree that anger is a flaw of Michael's, it certainly doesn't seem to check the boxes to be a fatal flaw, so let's move onto the next one: Pride.

Pride has its roots in the same parts of the narration as anger, so this section is going to be rather shorter because I don't need to rehash all the quotes again. The main thing that stands out on the pride side of the feud, specifically, is that it's completely needless for Michael to keep agitating Clarisse and the Ares cabin.

Clarisse turned to Chiron. "You're in charge, right? Does my cabin get what we want or not?" Chiron shuffled his hooves. "My dear, as I've already explained, Michael is correct. Apollo's cabin has the best claim. Besides, we have more important matters—" [...] "I see," Clarisse said. "And the senior counselors? Are any of you going to side with me?" Nobody was smiling now. None of them met Clarisse's eyes.

Chiron's put his hooves down on the matter - the Apollo cabin has the best claim to the chariot, Clarisse is the aggressor here. The other head counsellors all agree with that, too. Michael could, and given the upcoming war, should, ignore her and put his and his siblings' focus towards the war and not an argument he's already won.

But he doesn't. His chariot is attacking the campers - the Apollo kids aren't just defending themselves from the upset Ares kids, they're on the offensive themselves, arguably more so than the Ares campers.

As we crossed the commons area, a fight broke out between the Ares and Apollo cabins. Some Apollo campers armed with firebombs flew over the Ares cabin in a chariot pulled by two pegasi. I'd never seen the chariot before, but it looked like a pretty sweet ride. Soon, the roof of the Ares cabin was burning, and naiads from the canoe lake rushed over to blow water on it. Then the Ares campers called down a curse, and all the Apollo kids' arrows turned to rubber. The Apollo kids kept shooting at the Ares kids, but the arrows bounced off. Two archers ran by, chased by an angry Ares kid who was yelling in poetry: "Curse me, eh? I'll make you pay! / I don't want to rhyme all day!"

This feels a lot like he's trying to validate that yes, the chariot really is his cabin's, and the fact that Clarisse keeps insisting otherwise despite every non-Ares member of the camp being on Michael's side is insulting/undermining the Apollo cabin's claim.

It also sounds like he made sure to have the final word against Clarisse when she still refused to come and fight, which is a very prideful action.

"Nah," Michael said. "Left it at camp. I told Clarisse she could have it. Whatever, you know? Not worth fighting about anymore. But she said it was too late. We'd insulted her honor for the last time or some stupid thing." "Least you tried," I said. Michael shrugged. "Yeah, well, I called her some names when she said she still wouldn't fight. I doubt that helped. Here come the uglies!"

The thing is, though, that we hit a snag with the pride theory at this point for a similar reason to the anger one - as soon as there's something bigger and more immediate to focus on, Michael sets it aside.

He gives up the chariot they were fighting over - the chariot that, rightfully, is the Apollo cabin's - for no reason other than because he knew that they needed the Ares cabin to come and fight and it was the only thing he could think of that he could do to try and change Clarisse's mind - made even more stark when compared with Michael's original, in-camp, reaction to Clarisse's declaration.

Clarisse threw her knife on the Ping-Pong table. "All of you can fight this war without Ares. Until I get satisfaction, no one in my cabin is lifting a finger to help. Have fun dying." The counselors were all too stunned to say anything as Clarisse stormed out of the room. Finally Michael Yew said, "Good riddance."

It's true that Michael does get upset when Clarisse ignores his sacrifice of the chariot and still refuses to fight, but I think that's understandable given the situation (and he is, still, a teenage boy with a temper). It doesn't change the fact that he does it, however, nor the fact that Michael doesn't rescind the sacrifice and bring the chariot with him regardless, despite its potential stragetic uses in the war. Pride certainly doesn't seem to have much if any weight in his final stand, either, so I'd say that like anger, this doesn't actually fit as his fatal flaw, even if it might be somewhat of a personal trait/flaw.

At this point, it seems a little bit like a moot point to poke at Stubbornness because most of the counter-arguments for anger and pride also address this, but I'll quickly go over it anyway because this is the first one that properly shows itself all the way through Michael's appearances.

I've already mentioned the way he doesn't back down in the chariot feud, which is pride, yes, but also stubbornness - he won't leave it alone, won't let Clarisse stake her own claim on it, keeps fighting past the point of necessity over it.

But then we have his final scene, where he stands his ground. There's no indication that Michael even tried to run when the bridge crumbled.

I got unsteadily to my feet. The remaining Apollo campers had almost made it to the end of the bridge, except for Michael Yew, who was perched on one of the suspension cables a few yards away from me, His last arrow was notched in his bow. "Michael, go!" I screamed. "Percy, the bridge!" he called. "It's already weak!" At first I didn't understand. Then I looked down and saw fissures in the pavement. Patches of the road were half melted from Greek fire. The bridge had taken a beating from Kronos's blast and the exploding arrows. "Break it!" Michael yelled. "Use your powers!" [...] I turned to thank Michael Yew, but the words died in my throat. Twenty feet away, a bow lay in the street. Its owner was nowhere to be seen. "No!" I searched the wreckage on my side of the bridge. I stared down at the river. Nothing.

Michael completely ignores Percy telling him to run, tells him to break the bridge that he's currently on and clearly has no intentions of leaving, not with that notched arrow that he then seems to have fired, given that there's no arrow later on. This seems the closest we've got so far to a flaw that goes beyond a simple character flaw and into the fatal category.

Except.

He's a stubborn character, but just like with anger, like with pride, Michael keeps putting it aside when it might otherwise cause issues during the battle - he questions Percy's plans more than once, but despite that, he cedes command to Percy on Williamsburg Bridge, follows his orders instead of continuing with his own strategies, and generally shows that he's exactly the sort of person you want by your side/at your back when you're fighting. Michael's flexible and prepared to change and adapt as the situation does - which is pretty much the opposite of stubbornness, so while at first glance it seemed like a strong candidate it's once again contradicted by the scenes on Williamsburg Bridge.

So, that's the three usual suspects that arise from the chariot feud all falling apart once we rearch the battlefield. Michael is certainly passionate about the fight - more than once, Percy implies that he seems to actually be having a good time on the battlefield and there's no other explanation other than eagerness for this moment:

I sliced through armor like it was made of paper. Snake women exploded. Hellhounds melted to shadow. I slashed and stabbed and whirled, and I might have even laughed once or twice—a crazy laugh that scared me as much as it did my enemies. I was aware of the Apollo campers behind me shooting arrows, disrupting every attempt by the enemy to rally. Finally, the monsters turned and fled—about twenty left alive out of two hundred. I followed with the Apollo campers at my heels. "Yes!" yelled Michael Yew. "That's what I'm talking about!"

But despite all of this, that passion doesn't seem to be based in anger, pride, or stubbornness, despite those being the first things people seem to think of when they think about Michael - and that's why I have two more options added to the list to explore.

Moving on, then, I'll start with Protectiveness.

So, just now I said that stubbornness is what caused Michael's final moments, but is it really? It was certainly part of it, but also - as I mentioned earlier, when talking about anger, Michael's final stand is immediately after some of his siblings have been thrown off the bridge - having already seen at least one other sibling killed earlier:

Hellhounds leaped ahead of the line from time to time. Most were destroyed with arrows, but one got hold of an Apollo camper and dragged him away. I didn't see what happened to him next. I didn't want to know.

Siblings, of course, that as their head counsellor he is the one in charge of and responsible for - it's likely that he's the oldest in the cabin as well (although not guaranteed), and that these are all his younger siblings that are getting killed/seriously injured/status unknown. We're told that the "remaining" Apollo campers are running for the end of the bridge and retreating as far as possible - all of them except for Michael, who was with them to start with but stopped and turned to face the enemy.

Michael and his archers tried to retreat, but Annabeth stayed right beside me, fighting with her knife and mirrored shield as we slowly backed up the bridge.

Followed by

The remaining Apollo campers had almost made it to the end of the bridge, except for Michael Yew, who was perched on one of the suspension cables a few yards away from me. His last arrow was notched in his bow.

This is the point when Michael makes the decision that the bridge has to be destroyed, figures out how to destroy it, and basically orders Percy to do it. I've got a whole other argument about how Michael is the reason Olympus didn't fall that first night of the siege, but at this point I think it's blatantly obvious that the only thing Michael is thinking about is protecting his siblings. Why else would he put himself (tiny archer who should never, ever, be on the front lines - which is hinted at by the fact he still seeks out as high a ground as he can get aka the cables) as the rear guard, the barrier between an entire army and his fleeing siblings?

He's protecting his siblings - he's guarding their backs as they flee to safety and he's finding a way to stop them from being pursued, even if it kills him in the process. It's clearly the right decision to him, the only decision he thinks he can take - and it's textbook fatal flaw.

But before I settle on that, there's one more I want to talk about, which is really an extension of protectiveness, and that's Love.

I'll admit that love always feels like a bit of a cheat to me as a fatal flaw - it's a bit of a catch-all, in that if you argue hard enough you can pull back almost any character to love in some way (which is why Aphrodite is such an underrated yet powerful goddess), and it's nowhere near as obvious for Michael as it is for Apollo and Nico (yes I know what Bianca said, but consider: she didn't know what she was talking about. Nico's fatal flaw is a whole other meta, though), but I think it fills in a few gaps that protectiveness leaves a little open.

There's something that gets overlooked a lot when Michael gets discussed, especially the chariot feud, despite the fact that Percy outright states it.

Michael had taken over the Apollo cabin after Lee Fletcher died in battle last summer.

No sugar-coating, no forgetting about a background character that got all of two pre-death appearances - Lee was killed in battle, and Michael was the one that took over the cabin from him.

We never get any canon information on Michael and Lee's relationship, but obviously they knew each other well, given that Michael's the next most senior kid - and isn't that the kicker. Because this line tells us one very important thing: Michael had to step into his big brother's suddenly-vacated shoes in the immediate aftermath of a battle, with no time to grieve.

We even have a comparison to make right in that same scene:

Even Jake Mason, the hastily appointed new counselor from Hephaestus, managed a faint smile.

Jake's also been shoved into the same role, a role we later find out he never wanted and never recovered from - big brother's dead, your turn to step up and lead the cabin in war. Most of the counsellors are laughing but all Jake can do is a faint smile. He's not okay, and you wouldn't expect him to be - and in The Lost Hero he's even more blatant about the fact that he's not okay (same as Will, in fact) - so, clearly, Michael is not okay, either.

The chariot feud is a whole mess of emotions - anger, pride and stubbornness are ones I've already covered - but I never see anyone talk about grief, and how Michael's been forced to lead a cabin in the wake of the death of his older sibling (the first wartime promotion, really - the Stolls situation isn't quite the same), and how he has to be at least somewhat off-balance, because grief is a tricky little thing and there's no way it hasn't got its nasty little claws in Michael, and that only a few scant months - a year at most - after Lee's death, it's still very, very raw.

And there's a strong correlation between love and grief. "What is grief but love perservering?" "Grief is the price we pay for love" - there's a neverending list of sayings about grief and love.

Then there's the bridge. There's Michael putting Austin and Kayla right at the back, setting traps but a long way back from the front line. There's the way he knew that without the Ares cabin they weren't going to win so he surrendered the chariot in the hopes of getting the front line fighters to join in - the ones that will stand between the archers and the enemy, between his siblings and the enemy. There's, again, the way he stood his ground as a barrier between Kronos and his army and his siblings, even though if Percy hadn't destroyed the bridge he would've been overrun and killed (and he was in such a precarious position that breaking the bridge... well, we know what happened or do we).

But also there's the fact that Michael was fighting at all. The fact that Michael wanted to fight - when Percy gives him the opportunity to take the fight to Kronos, to fight back rather than just numbly defending the bridge/Manhattan/Olympus, Michael seizes it.

His ferrety face was smeared with soot and his quiver was almost empty, but he was smiling like he was having a great time.

"That was my last sonic arrow," Michael said. "A gift from your dad?" I asked. "God of music?" Michael grinned wickedly.

I followed with the Apollo campers at my heels. "Yes!" yelled Michael Yew. "That's what I'm talking about!"

He's right there on the front line, it's so obvious that he's there because he wants to be, because he believes in their cause. Because he loves Apollo.

It's never said in so many words (although we know Apollo has interacted with Michael because he's given him those sonic arrows), but it's there in Michael's actions, in how he never falters in the pro-god side of the war despite losing sibling after sibling after sibling to it - Michael has to love Apollo for anything else to make sense.

It's his siblings he sacrifices himself for, but it's his father he chose to fight for. And it's both that he died for.

If that's not a fatal flaw in action, what is?

[thebestofoneshots]

hi! are there any headcanons for GC that you have that haven’t really made it into your chapters, but they’re kicking around in there when you’re writing?

Hey darling! I actually talked about this on The Interlude but yes, there are very many of these.

From small tiny things like the fact that Sirius likes to draw, but never shows his drawings to anyone, and that he plays the piano fantastically.

To the fact that Remus has a camera and loves taking pictures and that his handwriting isn’t that great unless he uses a charm to make it better. But that, if he is writing for you to copy his notes, he tries to make them extra neat.

I don’t know it it’s clear or not, but Vixen sucks at Transfiguration and Herbology. Unless she’s transfigurating herself lol

Sirius and Remus have kissed in the past (It was a dare).

Sirius does not show his drawings to anybody bc Walburga was a bitch to him when he was little and he's terrified people will react the same way.

Sirius and James are both brilliant.

Remus is too, but that's because he feels a burdensome pressure from Lyall to be perfect. If he is perfect, he cannot be made less for being a werewolf (according to Lyall).

Same thing happens to Lily, she feels the need to be perfect because she is a muggle-born and she wants to constantly prove herself that she is worthy (kinda like Hermione).

Also, Snape is a very sensible subject for her. She is the kind of girl to see the good in people, even when that good is very small. And even when that good has wronged her, which obviously clashes with a lot of her friends' opinions (mainly Marlne and Vixen who are stubborn as hell)

Lily had a crush on Remus in third year, but he said "thanks" when she admitted it since he thought she meant it platonically.

Also, that's when he started to figure out his sexual preferences

Remus introduced Sirius to muggle music but now Sirius is the one that introduces Remus to new bands.

Nina has a crush, you all know who she is

Lily is bi, male leaning

Peter isn't stupid, but he is kinda clumsy and bad at quizzes, which is why he constantly gets outshined by the rest of the Marauders.

He's good a transfiguration thought (mostly things).

Vixen's parents aren't evil, but their methods are more than questionable.

Her dad really, really wants that position in the ministry. Although he wants it for the greater good, the fact that he doesn't care how to achieve it is the questionable part.

Evan has an homophobic dad

Barty's father is absolutely neglectful (kinda like Vixen's) [But that's canon, isn't it?]

Also, Barty is insanely clever, like he might be the smartest person in the school.

Tom Riddle, before the whole Avada thing, was attractive, even for a 50-year-old. I mean think Michael Fassbender's level of handsome.

You guys might hate me after chapter 45

Read Gilded Constellations Here

[pamsimmerstories]

michael and adam crossed saves hehe

(they are from my og save, they are the gen 4)

transcription

Adam: what’s this place? is this the realm?

Michael: something is wrong...

Adam: what does it mean?

Michael: it means i took us to the wrong place. i think we just need to get inside the portal. the glimmerstone didn’t work as it should

Adam: mike, please... i just wanna go home then. you were gonna show me the realm and now we’re here...

Adam: and we’re not using your magic again.

Adam: michael... what the hell have you done? this is not our home and there’s a man living here?

Erwin: can i help you?

Michael: i’m sorry, nemo. i... i don’t know what must’ve happened. maybe... just maybe we’re in a alternative universe.

Erwin: are you guys lost?

Adam: we are lost because of my cousin here... do you know any family here called hart... or munch?

Erwin: [muttering] hart or munch...?

Erwin: a woman called leslie... she lived here, she got married to a munch. she’s in windenburg now

Adam: i figured. just wanted to check. thanks!

Erwin: yeah, sure!

Erwin: [thinking] at least now they’re going away from my house. why were they watching me? the while haired man looked like from the military... weird.

the boys went to their grandaperents place first. even though they had a feeling they wouldn’t find them there.

Adam: so, me and my cousin here, we got lost... we’re looking for our relatives... have you heard from the harts? or munch?

Michael: hi :)

Sergio: i don’t know anything about hart, but munch you have to be more specific... which munch?

Adam: maybe... wolfgang munch?

Sergio: you should find him on that house over there. anything else?

Adam: no, thanks!

*door slam*

Adam: i guess he’s not on a good day

Michael: yeah. hey, at least it seems that great grandpa is still living at the same place. maybe it’s good news?

Adam: what are you doing, mike?

Michael: trying to see if this is their home indeed. looks a lot different.

after a lot of wolfgang asking if they were sure, he invited them to his house. it was freezing outside

Wolfgang: so you’re telling me that i’m your great grandparent from another universe?

Wolfgang: i don’t believe you

Adam: i have pictures. i’ll show you.

Adam: this is my dad’s wedding. do you see you and great grandma aurora there?

Adam: this is tiny me when you and great grandma came to our home  and she gave mom the immortality potion, because my dad is a vampire

Adam: and this is you on my birthday. actually michael’s too. you went dressed as a pirate.

Wolfgang: this guy looks like me, but the mustache is....

hilarious hahahahahahahahaha

adam: hahahaha... so do you believe me now?

Wolfgang: sorry dude. i don’t.

Adam: michael, show him you’re a spellcaster

Michael: scruberoo!

Adam: see? he just cleaned your ass.

Wolfgang: i don’t feel anything different, maybe it’s because i’m already clean.

Adam: i guess wolfgangs are always stubborn in every alternative universe.

Wolfgang: ...

[fandomnerd9602]

STITCHED WOUNDS Allyson Nelson x Wick!Reader

To say you were on edge would be the understatement of the century. You guide Allyson and your dog out to your car and practically shove them both in. “Honey” Ally says, “it’s a copycat. Nothing we can’t deal with” You push a burner phone into her hands. “I got a place for you in Chicago,” you explain as you hand her a gold coin, “The Continental. Tell them the reservation’s under Wick and hand them this coin.” “What about you?” she looks to you worriedly “I’ll join you shortly. I just need to go see Corey real fast.” you kiss her forehead, “I love you. Please go to Chicago and wait till I give the all clear.” “Okay” she whispers as she jumps into the driver’s seat and speeds off. You quickly text Laurie: Ally’s going to Chicago. You should too. A text comes through a second later: No That grandmother is a stubborn woman, now you know where Allyson gets it from. You grab your duffel bag and board your motorbike, zooming down the streets towards the scene of the crime. Your mind races as you think of who could possibly be this new apprentice. Your thoughts flash back to Corey, that look in his eye when you found him. Can’t be. Corey please don’t. You reach the scene as the police load two body bags into the morgue’s ambulance. You approach Chief Barker, who greets you with a firm handshake. “Morning Wick” “Morning Chief” “You working today?” he asks, looking around to see if anyone notices you and him talking. “Yeah.” He slips you a badge and you head in to investigate. You look around the area and find a discarded plastic scarecrow mask. Your eyes go wide. You remember when Allyson picked that it out. She held it up to you, “think our pal Corey will like this?” Your blood runs cold, a ringing fills your ears. There was no doubt in your mind that Corey was the killer. Your mind races with possible next victims. The band geek bullies. The town itself practically hated Corey after that one night. No. No one else could know. You had to face this yourself. How you wish you told Chief Barker what you knew. That night was a bloodbath. The radio DJ at his studio. Corey’s own mother in her own house. You made your way to the junkyard and found Corey’s stepfather gasping for air, a bullet wound in his chest. You try to keep pressure on the wound. “S-Save him” he whispers with his dying breath. “I don’t think I can, sir” you look the elder man in the eye. “Don’t let him die a monster then.” tears escape the man’s eyes as the light leaves his eyes. You look around at the junkyard: the carnage. And yet among all of it, you feel someone watching you. “It doesn’t have to be this way Corey!” you ready your pit viper “What’s the difference between you and me?” a voice sounding like Corey’s answers back. And yet there’s a warped darkness in it’s very tone. “We’re both killers” “I don’t go after innocents” you shoot at a shadow, the bullets ricochet off the metal walls. “No one’s innocent in this town.” Corey answers back as he jumps at you, knife drawn. He slashes at you, slash after slash. You try to dodge. “This isn’t you, Corey!” you yell out. “This was always me.” he answers, “I just didn’t know it yet.” “I don’t believe that” you try to get through to your old friend. “Your choice” he smacks you in the rib, knocking the wind out of you before slashing you across the cheek. “I always liked her you know. Allyson. Allycat.” “You stay away from her” he slashes you across your leg. His mind games are getting to you. “She’s gullible though.” he laughs, “I called her up and said that you were in such trouble.” “Where is she?” “Probably with her grandmother Laurie. But of course, when I’m done with you, Michael and I will make good work of her.” Corey smacks you across the face with a tire iron. WHAM! You hit the ground hard, dazed and bleeding. He grabs you and pulls you towards the industrial shredder. Corey hits the button You can hear the gears turning in that old death trap. “No evidence.” he growls as he drags you closer and closer towards the metal teeth. You try to struggle against your friend's steel grasp.

To Be Concluded…

Tags: @deafeningsharkslimeempath @revanshand @ma1egamer @jacelion @konstantin609 @russianredassassin @tokufighter

[a-boca-do-inferno]

you already did, part 2 (vincent mancini x reader) [request]

part 1

summary: Vincent is not a man not to admit his faults. He could be violent, stubborn, a little impulsive, too, but never prideful. At least not with the woman he loved.

warnings: angst, swearing, verbal abuse (sorta), fluff (sorta), just rly toxic stuff what can i tell ya

words: 3.3k

notes: this wasnt supposed to happen but yall cant stand just an angst oneshot 😭 cowards. (self-criticism.) and of course this is loosely based on rebel heart by first aid kit because i was listening to it while writing this. enjoy <3

Silence. 

Ever since (y/n) left, Vincent’s life seemed to have gone completely, utterly silent. Soundless were his heavy steps against the wooden floor, so contrary to the natural order of things; as was being away from the only person who ever understood him in this godforsaken world. But to anyone else, he was as bright and strong as ever. Reckless and ruthless as ever, ruling the Corleone empire with an iron fist, a cold heart and little humanity left. And he saw fit that even the last glimpse of his human side would’ve gone away with (y/n). It was as poetic as it was pathetic, and the dense sigh dancing in his lips was as soundless as one would expect from him those days. He felt suffocated. Muted. Silenced. Carrying the weight of the entire world on his shoulders, yet Vinnie was as free as man can be. 

Shamefully. 

“Dinner’s ready, sweetheart”, a quiet voice comes from the door. His aunt has a soft, inviting expression that’s always there for him, but as soon as her gaze meets his troubled one, Connie frowns slightly. “You don’t look so good.”

“I’m just tired”, he grumbles, looking back down at some documents. It’s not long before he huffs in annoyance, pushing them away and taking a deep breath. He can’t pretend, not with Auntie Connie. Vinnie closes his eyes for a second, rubbing his temples. “I’m just tired”, he repeats, his tone a little gentler now.

Connie shuts the door behind her and takes a step towards him, clasping her hands together. “Is it (y/n)?”

Vincent snorts, raising his brows in humourless amusement. “It’s that obvious, huh?”

She shrugs, taking a seat in front of him. “I won’t lie and say that I understand what it is that you see in that girl, not after the spectacle she made before leaving, but I know how much you miss her.”

Connie sounds faintly accusative to his ears, albeit her words are careful. He was well aware his family had a strong opinion on (y/n) from the beginning of their marriage, especially because she wasn’t Italian, but he never paid mind to them. It would be a cold day in hell when he’d let anyone dictate what he did with his life, no matter how unwavering his loyalty was to the Corleone household. He knew how to separate personal matters from work, always did. Perhaps that is why Vincent had been luckier than Michael as Godfather in that area; while he was ruthless, his passion could never be dialled down to serve some grand, ultimate purpose. Not with (y/n). His miserableness without her around was proof enough of that fact. 

“Yeah”, Vincent smirks, but it doesn’t reach his eyes, as his memories can’t help but show the face of his angry ex-wife yelling her lungs out at the most dangerous people he knew. He lets out a low chuckle, looking at the ceiling, “she’s a little crazy, she’s always been, but that’s what drew me to her in the first place. I can’t do peace and quiet, you know me.” He pauses, only to breathe through his nose and glance back at her, with his brows furrowed. “I think I’m going crazy myself without her, anyway.”

He doesn’t usually open up like this with anyone, but his aunt had a way about her that felt like he could lay himself bare, and not hide anything. Apart from that, it was no overstatement to call it like it is: there was a darkness growing inside him with each passing day. And he was alone because he refused to accept it sooner, he knew that much. (y/n) was not one to take ungratefulness kindly, and he admired her for it to no end, even when it meant her letting him go. Vincent knew from the start he married a woman who wouldn’t budge on what she deserved. Maybe that was what hurt him the most; to see things so clearly now. There was no way she could’ve stayed by his side, not without conditioning herself to receive but crumbs of affection.

Connie shakes her head with a little grin, getting his attention. “Then what the hell are you still doing here feeling sorry for yourself?” She nods once, speaking convictively, “go after her.”

Vincent is surprised by the suggestion, and he goes back to staring at the papers in front of him for a moment. Could he, really? The thought had never crossed his mind, funnily enough. As deep as he was in his well of self-pity, any hopefulness from his part just felt childish and petty. Because on top of it all, he understood her decision, mayhaps even supported it internally. (y/n) was worth more than anything he could offer her right now. 

And so he sighs again, leaning back in his chair. He snaps his knuckles, studying his ring, “I appreciate the advice, but I reckon (y/n)’s gonna shoot me on sight if she ever sees me again. We’re done, she told me so.”

His aunt grunts, glaring at him. “Is that any way for a Corleone to talk, nephew? I know you better than this!” She gets up and stands by his side, squeezing his shoulder in encouragement. “Listen to your heart. You’re a dead man walking without that silly girl”, she jokes, pushing him slightly.

This goddamn woman. She can see through him like no one can. Vinnie snorts quietly, rolling his eyes and nodding. “Fine, but I’m sending you my hospital bill.”

Vincent was never a man not to admit his faults. He could be violent, aggressive, stubborn, a little impulsive, too, but never prideful. And especially not with the woman he loved more than anything, but their last meeting wasn’t the friendliest of them all. The last time they spoke to each other, (y/n) sat across from him with her unresting look glued to the table while their lawyers sorted out the divorce agreement. As opposed to his cutting words when they fought, both parted ways each with half of their patrimony — which was mostly Vinnie’s —, despite her protests against putting her hands on his “dirty money”. 

In that last hearing, his soon-to-be ex-wife kept to herself as best as she could, although she did speak up whenever he couldn’t hold his tongue and would make some resentful and sarcastic remarks. The bickering was inevitable with them, but it now left a sour taste in his lips, so agonisingly different from the lighthearted nature of their banter a few months prior. Vincent experienced a sense of betrayal somehow, and his mouth was known to be working overtime when he was unhappy. He was angry then, he just couldn’t help himself. 

And he still was livid, even now; surrounded by striking sorrow and her helpless absence. Vincent was mad at her for making him feel so pathetically small, forced to remain trapped in his own insignificance, only further proving her point of his becoming of a shell of a man because of the family business. And that was all he ever did since she went away, as if the universe’s ultimate laughter at his circumstances: work, work, work. With no soft lips to come home to. With no loving eyes to watch him take off his coat and hang it purposefully on the chair, with the sole motive of trying to get a reaction from her. Vinnie often did. She’d give him one of her fiery, yet sweet stares, ordering him around like he wasn’t the vilest guy in the block. And he complied gladly, crawling into bed the next second. 

For that, Vincent was a deeply angry, wrathful man; because he had lost his opportunity at redemption. (y/n) had slipped away right before his eyes, but he was as blind as they came. Like any angry man, he only saw red. Never her. 

It was almost like nothing had changed, after all.

Tom points at him with his cigarette, pulling Vincent out of his thoughts. “You sure about this?”

“No. But I’m going insane”, he mutters in reflex, resting his hands on his hips as his uncle gives him a short nod, blowing the smoke. 

Dinner’s finished and everyone else has left the table. It was a normal Friday night as any, and he quietly hoped it would continue like this. His week hadn’t been exactly the best one now with the FBI tracking his every move, and he was about to make it even better — or worse, terribly worse — with (y/n)’s certain rejection later on. But it was a change for once, and he couldn’t stand the silence and the dullness of his routine anymore. Besides, he could use some yelling right now. Perhaps it’d make him come back to his senses a bit.

“She’s a nuisance in the business”, Tom’s voice is quiet, level-headed, and Vincent stops his glass halfway through his mouth before his uncle resumes his speech. “She can’t handle this. She’s too soft.”

Vinnie scowls immediately. “Why the hell are you telling me all this as if I didn’t know, eh?”, he snarls, making a sour face as he gulps down his drink in one go. “I fucking married the broad, for Christ’s sake.”

Tom’s face stays neutral and he reclines in his chair. “I’m just asking, Vincent. You gotta be sure about this, ‘cause you already know where she stands.” There is pause, until he adds, “what sacrifices are you willing to make to get her back?”

He meant leaving the business, of course, and Vincent’s knuckles turn white as he squeezes the edge of the table unconsciously. He shakes his head and lets out a fake laugh, his core boiling up with contempt. Vinnie wants to punch Tom, but ends up containing himself. He was getting very good at that. “I don’t even know if she’ll take me back, Uncle Tommy. Let’s be more realistic here, Jesus.”

“Cut the bullshit”, his tone becomes more serious, and Vincent tenses up. It was not everyday he saw this side of Tom. “You ain’t a boy no more, Vinnie. A Don has responsibilities. That girl makes you soft and you know it.”

There it is: the judgement. That was what he couldn’t take anymore. The constant watching his back, always waiting for the next “innocent” suggestion on how to do his job. That the world was out to get him, he knows. But now his own family, the one he swore to protect, the people he’d give his life for? That couldn’t be. He needed some fresh air, and some nice cuddling with his girl. And that’s what he’d do right now. 

Fuck that.

“I don’t gotta listen to this”, Vincent stands up abruptly, grabbing his coat and giving one last glare at his uncle. He raises his voice, widening his eyes furiously, “and I don’t wanna hear you say her name again, got that?!”

He left without another word, marching out the house with his chin up and his usual thug walk. Vinnie got into his car and drove away into the night, enjoying the breeze on his face. (y/n) had moved into her old apartment even prior to the divorce papers were ready, and thankfully he knew where that was. He stepped on the pedal and accelerated, eager to see the face he missed so much. His heart was pounding into his chest. Suddenly, his vision appeared to be clearer and something burned in the pit of his stomach, resemblant to the effect of a drug. Just the thought of his baby close again ignited him in such a way. 

Almost six months without her scent, her voice, her touch. Would she even let him in, he wondered, this late at night? All alone in her house... Or so he wanted her to be. Nevertheless, as much as it made him irate to think of her in the arms of another, Vinnie couldn’t blame her for going out with other people. On the other hand, he just couldn’t fathom the thought of having anyone other than her. Not just yet. So different from the Vincent he was just before they met. She really had left her mark on him.  

He stopped the car in front of her building in a halt. His jacket did nothing to warm him up through the cold wind hitting his face as he got out of the vehicle, shutting the door with a thud that was surely louder than necessary. Vincent took a deep breath and stomped towards her front door, clearing his throat and staring at his shoes for a moment. He adjusted his suit and his hair, brushing it backwards anxiously. Goddamn it, what would he even say? “I missed you, let’s get back together, even though you hate my guts and I can’t compromise because of my family”? He should just leave. This was a bad idea.

He’s turning around when the wooden surface simply disappears from his rear view. The door opened to reveal (y/n) with her hair tied up, staring at him with concern and faint surprise. She had her pyjamas on, like a normal person would so late at night, but his look automatically fell over her bare legs. She looked as beautiful as ever, even more so than he remembered. His heart hammered inside his chest and he tried to appear unaffected at her presence, even though it was useless. 

Noticing his intense stare, the girl cleared her throat, raising a questioning brow. “What on earth are you doing here, Vincent?”

Right, he had to speak. “I wanted to see you”, he breathes out, almost choked up, and it’s pathetic, but he’s past caring about that. Vinnie takes a step closer, uninvited, because it’s so much stronger than him at this point. “I miss you, (y/n).” His voice comes out strained, yet resolute. 

(y/n) pauses, taking in his sudden approach. “Vincent...”

“Don’t turn me away yet. I just wanna talk, okay?”, he spits in a rush, and he looks like an eager puppy, probably, but he’s also way past caring about that. This is the woman of his life. He can bear to look a little stupid in front of her. “Please, baby, you just gotta listen to me.”

His wife closes her eyes and sighs, making way for him to enter. “I’m not your baby anymore, you know?” 

Vincent grins in relief, walking past her to sit on the couch. His palms are sweating and he rubs them against his pants back and forth, rocking his body nervously. He’s got no idea what he’s supposed to answer, he’s never been the romantic type, but the words pour from his mouth anyways, “you’ll always be my baby.”

She looks unfazed by his directness, but her orbs still avoid him. “What do you wanna say that you haven’t already, Vincenzo?” (y/n) crosses her arms and takes a seat across from him, keeping her distance, and he can’t help but feel his chest tighten at this. 

“I miss you”, he repeats, blinking a few times. He’s so bad at this, but he’s got to do it. For her. “You’re my life. I can’t be without you, you know that.” She remains silent as he rambles, and he frowns despite himself, the feeling of being suffocated by the nothingness coming all over again. “Talk to me, (y/n)”, Vinnie’s being too demanding for the occasion, but he’s just so fucking tired of this. 

“I have nothing to say”, comes the noiseless murmur.

Vincent can spot the water fighting to escape her sombre look, but all he can think of is how fed up he is with these games. “Don’t you lie to me”, he growls, balling up his fists. “Don’t you fucking lie to me, sweetheart.”

“Get out of my house”, she stands up in the blink of an eye, glaring at his direction. 

He huffs and gets up only to glower right back at her, ignoring her request. “I won’t leave until we talk this through, okay?” He grabs her arm in a tight hold, mindful not to hurt her. This wasn’t how he was wishing things would go, although he should’ve known. She had left him for a reason. He tries to calm himself with a deep breath and lets go of her forearm, looking into her eyes intently, “tell me the truth, don’t you love me anymore?”

Tears stream down her cheeks, but she doesn’t break their gaze. “You know I do”, she whispers desperately, gripping at his jacket with all her force. 

This very moment has happened before, a few times. The same tension and eagerness to make things just work, swimming against the current. This was so like them; to be running towards each other when they should be running away. He touches her fingertips ghostly, caressing them in silent request. (y/n) gulps and squeezes his hand softly, resting it over her pounding chest. His whole body shivers with their closeness, and he has to try his best not to pull her into a kiss right there. He’s never been one to respect boundaries, and that was yet another proof of just how strong his love for that woman was.

“Come back home”, Vincent coos, bringing their foreheads together. His orbs are as watery as hers now, and he bites his trembling lip, waiting for her assured decline. 

“That house is not my home, Vincent”, (y/n) whimpers, still holding his palm securely. “You know I won’t ever go back to that place.”

“Damn you”, Vinnie sighs, shutting his eyes tightly. He much preferred her yelling than this again, anyday. “You know I can’t leave, honey.”

“But you want to”, she gives him a piercing stare, and their noses are touching. 

He wrapped one arm around her shoulders, their bodies flush against one another, and her hot breath made it all okay somehow. He was almost imploding with emotion. (y/n) knew him too well; just one look at him and she had the perfect words, the perfect timing, as much as he didn’t want to admit it out loud. The moblife was killing him from the inside out, and being away from her was only the last straw. When she hugged him back slowly, there was nothing but them at that moment. Everything else faded. This was real. 

“They’ll never let me go”, Vinnie considers gently, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Hell, they might even kill me for this.”

“We can run away”, (y/n) smiles, cupping his cheeks and leaving a quick kiss on his lips. He presses himself against her, devouring her mouth with no further ado. It’s been so long. All the anxiety and anger dissipated under her tender touch, and he deepened the kiss hungrily. When they pulled away, she chuckled, “someone missed me, huh?”

“Don’t joke with that, sweetheart”, he pleads, and his words come out smaller than he intended. Vincent pecks her mouth again, biting her lip weakly with a smirk. “I’m still mad you left.”

(y/n) snickers, swaying their bodies unhurriedly. “I had to.”

He lets out a quiet grunt, nuzzling her jaw, “I know.” His fingers reach her hips and he pulls her closer. “I love you.”

“I love you too”, she purrs, holding him delicately.

And then came the silence. Yet this time, it felt like he could breathe at last. In her arms, it all meant something again. Never mind his other half, (y/n) was simply his entire being. More than whole, Vincent was himself in her presence once more. They could take on the world together, and that’s what he was willing to do for them both. He had the answer for Tom’s question now. For (y/n), he’d give his life. 

Shamelessly. 

[westcovinas]

I think one of the most appealing character building aspects of arrested development is how fully fleshed out the women are. It came out in 2003 and it does better than shows coming out now, 20 years later. All of the women are equally if not more so scheming, conniving, and manipulative as their male counterparts. Lindsay is portrayed at being good at manipulating men’s emotions and sexualities despite marrying a gay man, which makes sense when the show establishes her better relationship with her father. Her mother gave her an eating disorder, so her father got to teach his little girl how to get people to give you what you want. She’s also (inadvertently) adept at running a business, which was no doubt the influence of both parents and her “twin” brother.

Her daughter, Maeby, took her mother’s skill for lying and her father’s aptitude at earnest acting. She’s just as manipulative as the women before her, if not more. By pure lies alone, she gets multiple jobs, free housing, and cheats the school system. Instead of using roofies to sexually assault Steve Holt, she uses them specifically to avoid sex. Maeby constantly defies expectation, subverts standards, and makes her own path as the daughter with two negligent, well meaning parents.

Which brings us to Lucille. Lucille and her husband set the standard for all of their children and grandkids. Although we can assume there was a long line of weirdly fucked up Bluths and Jenkins (Lucille’s maiden name) before them, they are the epitome of the Bluth name: selfish boomers/silent gens that will stop at nothing to get their way. Lucille is a queen at mind games and casually cruel offhand remarks. She is revealed to be in charge, in a spin that surprises few watchers. Everyone know’s Lucille pulls the strings, even if George sr is equally exploitive.

Even the minor ladies in ad pass the bechdel test with flying colors. Maggie is, quite frankly, kind of a bitch - she doesn’t care who she’s screwing over, as long as she looks good (par course for the Bluth family). Kitty is a true home wrecker: she knows her partner’s wife and she knows that she “hates” the cheating. We don’t know how much it actually bothers Lucille, but Kitty doesn’t care. All of Michael’s love interests leave him, and he’s the main character. His son, George Michael, doesn’t fare much better romantically either, except with Ann, who also eventually rejects him. Even Ann, the devout evangelical Christian, is still given notable characteristics and personality traits: faithful, passionate, stubborn. From Lupe to Lucille II, the women are allowed to be just as full as the men, which is refreshing, especially from 20 years ago.

[beauty-and-passion]

TMA - Chapters 51-60: Supernatural grandpas and Spider Gang members

Welcome back to my weekly rambling about ten new TMA chapters.

New theories are born, old ones are dead and stupid ones are rising. Will they be right? Will they be wrong? Is everyone’s name actually Michael? How will my mind be blasted by these ten new chapters?

Only one way to find out.

<< Main Masterlist < Previous post 

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MAG 51 - High Pressure

When I read that Simon Fairchild was in this story, I immediately went “Uh?”. Why is he here? What is he doing here?

And most importantly, what did he say to Mrs. Haley, before she jumped into the water? I bet it’s something like “Enjoy the water”, just like he said “Enjoy the sky” to Robert in MAG 21. This man keeps waking up and choosing violence. Mood.

But hey, maybe that’s because he’s an old guy. After all, older people are the most stubborn/tough creatures ever and the older you are, the tougher you become.

Also, what kind of creepy supernatural shit is Mr. Fairchild? A colossal hungry monster? The first time, the sky ate Robert. Now, the water tries to grab Antonia. It reminds me of the colossal figure from ex Altiora, but we already have a Michael associated with the Vast, so who is Simon? Another Vast? The Grandfather of the Vast? Is ‘Simon’ his middle name and the first one is actually Michael? That would explain everything XD

Uh, so the table from MAG 3 isn’t a fractal, but more of a web. And Graham was caught by it. I suppose that means we should ask Spider Mom about him - and about Sasha too.

It’s also very interesting the following part of the discussion, in which Jon asked:

“I thought that was... I... whatever crawled through his window. Unless you think they’re linked, somehow?”

To which Not!Sasha replied:

“I doubt it. It didn’t sound like the sort of thing that would want to be bound to an object.”

So this imposter thing doesn’t want to be bound to an object (like the table), but it really enjoys stealing bodies. Isn’t that similar to “being bound to an object”? Maybe this imposter just wants a living, breathing thing, instead of an inanimate one. It makes me think of Michael and the concept of identity for these creatures: is stealing bodies the only way this supernatural shit knows to have its own identity?

No, I refuse to start feeling empathy for this supernatural shit. You are an imposter and I will look at you with suspicion. I will not imagine you looking at the wax statues in Madame Tussaud’s Museum and pondering about existence, identity and humanity. I won’t.

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MAG 52 - Exceptional Risk

As soon as Robert Montauk was mentioned, I immediately remembered him from MAG 9. And here he is, the guy who killed a shit ton of people and kept hearts in his shed because he was dealing with some supernatural shit.

Jon asked if he was “summoning it, containing it, worshipping it”, which are all valid questions. Also, I find it very telling that the first verb he uses is “summoning” and not “containing”, considering that the dark guy told Montauk: “You didn’t think you could kill it for long, did you?”.

Personally, I think Mr. Montauk was trying to contain that supernatural shit and the only way to do so was by killing a shit ton of people and doing that weird magical circle in his shed. And that somehow “killed” (or at least kept it busy) the shit that took his wife. But since Mr. Montauk was killing a ton of people to do that, it was just a matter of time before someone found out.

(I checked MAG 9 because I also remembered a pendant and yes, his wife had a pendant with a closed eye. Is all of this story somehow related to Big Brother? Or is the closed eye just a charm? A sort of “close your eye and don’t look at me, you scary supernatural shit���?)

We also have a name for another of these supernatural shits! I will keep you in mind, Maxwell Rayner. So you are some sort of monster made of darkness - which reminds me of the creepy monster in MAG 25. Maybe it’s the same creature.

And now, back with the most beautiful love story that exists in Tim’s mind only: the one between Jon and Basira. I think I love her a little more after this episode. I mean, she appeared for a few minutes and:

blasted Martin, by saying that Tim is “the hot one”

blasted Jon, by saying that Tim has his same scars, but he manages to pull them off because he’s so much sexier than Jon

blasted Jon even more, by instantly using the typical sentences for a rejection: It’s not you it’s me, you’re nice and all, etc.

literally said: okay, fine we’ll let Tim think there’s something between us. But stay assured, Jon, that there is nothing

Wow, and here I thought Simon Fairchild was the one who woke up and chose violence. What’s up with all these people waking up and choosing violence? And why they’re all such moods?

Oh, she brought a tape about Alexandria! Is it about the Library of Alexandria? I hope it will be the next one, ‘cause I am very curious to know what it will be about.

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MAG 53 - Crusader

That was… something.

I have never heard of the Serapeum of Alexandria before, so kudos for letting me know about it. It’s very interesting and I love that this statement wasn’t about something so obvious and universally well-known as the Library of Alexandria, but another archive.

And archives are the real protagonists of this statement. Archives and archivists. It’s very interesting how Gertrude thought that the mysterious figure wasn’t just a scary supernatural shit, but specifically an archivist. Why an archivist, among all people? Is it because, as Jon said, she was suspecting something? If you become the archivist, you also become a supernatural shit, linked to the archive itself?

It’s also very interesting how Jon says: “Am I just part of a chain? A long, unending string of people who call themselves “the archivist” stretching back to…”. This somehow connects to my theory that Elias/the Lukas family is trying to find someone who will resonate with Big Brother.

Maybe “the Archivist” is the specific title given to this particular person that can resonate with Big Brother. After all, both Michael and Jane referred to Jon as “Archivist” and not “Jon”, “You” or “Doomed Idiot”. Just like Michael calls “the Wanderer” the person who enters its domain, maybe “the Archivist” identifies the person designed for Big Brother?

Oh Martin, you’re too precious: caring for your paranoid boss like this <3 please, at least you: grab him and run away. The spas are waiting.

That can be you, Martin.

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MAG 54 - Still Life

This is one of those statements that can be very creepy if you have that specific kind of fear. In this case, if you fear taxidermy or dead, stuffed things, then this story is for you.

Since I do not find them particularly creepy, I wasn’t particularly scared either. I suspected Daniel Rawlings was stuffed too, so the final part wasn’t a big surprise. And he may look different from the missing guy, but the same goes for Not!Sasha - and all of this was basically a huge hint to not trust her. However, since Jon still has no idea what’s wrong with her, he doesn’t get it.

The really interesting part was the supplement. We have Jonathan “Dipper” Sims, Master of Paranoia, now becoming expert burglar. First he watched Tim’s house, now he breaks into Gertrude’s. Next time he will watch Martin sleep, then hopefully police will arrest him (and save him from the Institute).

So Gertrude removed the eyes from everything in her house: another confirmation that Big Brother has one million eyes and can look through them all and this series is suspiciously becoming like Gravity Falls. If Big Brother is triangular too, then I will start to fear the beginning of an Armageddon.

Wait… is this what the war between supernatural shits will bring to? Will this story have its own Weirdmageddon? Oh shit, I really need to know more.

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MAG 55 - Pest Control

Wow, this statement was useless.

I mean, not entirely. It just confirmed Jane Prentiss worked alone and that there are other beings like her. I knew it already and I’m surprised Jon didn’t realize it. Who does he think Michael is, if not another supernatural shit? There are supernatural shits everywhere in this goddamn world.

But even if I realized it, the characters had to realize it too. So, even if this seems like a useless chapter from a reader’s perspective, it was necessary for the plot.

Wow, think of this man. Not only he’s still very paranoid regarding Jane Prentiss (with every right, because it’s been barely five months since the attack), but he has been changed so deeply by it, to not even have a normal life anymore. He literally looks back at boring stuff with longing. Poor Jon, I may joke about him, but I sympathize with his struggles.

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MAG 56 - Children of the Night

Jon was surprised by this statement and so was I: I didn’t expect a follow up to Trevor Herbert’s previous statement!

This one is pretty useless compared to the first one, but there’s something extremely important and it’s the presence of Spider Mom. Or the spider lady. Whatever: it’s a member of the spider gang, that’s what matters.

I also really liked the image of the woman as this hollow figure, full of spiders and spiderwebs. It kinda reminds me of the Oogie Boogie from Nightmare Before Christmas, that was full of worms. Pretty cool.

A-ah! We finally found out what was Martin lying about! And it was about his incompetence, lol. Jokes aside, at least he’s not lying about something supernatural/weird/dangerous: he’s just a poor guy trying to help his mother.

If I thought he deserved a vacation before, I am sure now: Martin, please, go on vacation. I’ll pay it for you, just go on a spa and relax.

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MAG 57 - Personal Space

What did I say before about specific fears/topics that scare or get you? Well, space is that for me. I’m not exactly scared by it, but I love the concept of being alone/abandoned in space: that fear is something so “otherworldly”, something we would rarely experience here in Earth… it’s fascinating, you know?

So yes, I was happy to read this story and when Mr. Chilcott said the Earth disappeared, as well as the Sun and the Moon, I was even more excited. I love space stuff <3

O-oh! Another member of the creepy Lukas family! Now, who is Conrad Lukas? Evan Lukas’ father, grandpa or uncle? I think these guys should start talking a little bit about their family tree: I have three Lukas by now and no idea how they’re related to each other.

So the businesses involved in this weird project are:

Pinnacle Aerospace, majority owned by the Fairchild family

a large private investment by Nathaniel Lukas

Optic Solutions Limited, a company manufacturing cameras that has its business address in Ny Alesund, Norway.

Or, to translate it from story-to-reader/theorists:

Simon Fairchild, the man related to the sky/sea who wakes up and chooses violence

the umpteenth Lukas

Big Brother’s secret company that makes more electronic eyes to spy on everything

Welp, I trust this project so much now. There’s definitely nothing weird going on here. Are the Fairchilds on the same side of the Lukas in the supernatural war? They’re literally working together like besties, so I suppose yes.

Finally, Jon is starting to suspect a bit about Not!Sasha. Well, Not!Sasha is also trying her best to look as suspicious as possible: she’s literally trying to destroy the statements in which there’s even a fragment of her voice. And the new boyfriend is clearly taken from some magazine. I just hope Jon will realize what’s happening as soon as possible.

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MAG 58 - Trail Rations

So, another statement about meat. This time, mixed with the Oregon Trail and cannibalism.

I don’t really know what to think about meat. I mean, fine, it’s a supernatural shit, but… what was doing, in 1845? Was it trying to find a body? Did it just want to become bigger? Maybe it was trying to get Mrs. Carlisle as new body and it will try to do so for years, until it will find out Jared Hopworth… assuming that the meat and the boneturner and the same supernatural shit.

Wow, what a surprise: who would’ve ever guessed that Jon’s coworkers are mad that he’s stalking them like a creep. Poor Tim, my boy deserves a vacation too. Just go with Martin: I’ll pay for you both.

But first, let’s send Jon to a therapist, so he can talk about all of his issues.

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MAG 59 - Recluse

And here we are, back on Hill Top Road. This time, we have a special guest: the table from MAG 3, that came back multiple times already. And this time, we know what was in the middle of it: apparently, a box with an apple. And if you eat the apple, you become food for the spider gang. This goddamn spider gang.

Also, what is Agnes? She clearly saved Mr. Sinclair with that kiss on the cheek, because it brought him back to his senses and helped him escape from the spider nest or whatever it was. So either she is another supernatural shit… or she’s a supernatural shit. No other possible choices :P

Wow Jon, who would’ve ever guessed that your coworkers don’t like to work with you, if you keep being creepy and paranoid with them? Maybe if you stop acting like a creep for one split second...

I like to think they’re all conspiring to send him to therapy. One of these days, they will lock Jon inside his office with a therapist and leave them alone, until Jon manages to talk about all of his paranoid thoughts.

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MAG 60 - The Observer Effect

So we can resume this statement as follows:

Christopher Meyer was minding his own business and living his life, when he suddenly decided to stick his nose into “outer cults” or, as the statement explains:

“small organized groups of worshippers whose beliefs weren’t simply deviations from paganism or other major religions, but seemed to focus on holy beings or concepts completely apart from what would be considered normal religious practice. Some seemed to have more in common with ancient shamanism than with organized hierarchical worship, and all were highly secretive.”

So, he went to the Magnus Institute, where all the stories about these supernatural shits are kept. And among holy beings like Mr. Boneturner and concepts like the fog, the meat and Michael, he found a mirror related to Big Brother. And that’s what probably made him a recluse.

So, when Mrs. Meyer took it, she suffered his same fate of being watched all the time by Big Brother… at least until one day she woke up and chose violence. But, like, real violence.

I’ll admit it: taking a van full of petrol and trying to destroy the institute was probably the best and the most badass move ever, so Rosa Meyer immediately rises to the status of world savior.

It looks like the Institute’s team decided to not lock Jon in his office with a therapist, but to simply do an intervention. Okay, fine, it works too.

And wow, look, in the CCTV of Gertrude’s death there’s no one, except for Gertrude and Elias who finds her body. There’s absolutely no way this man found the secret passages and used them to kill Gertrude, nope nope, he hasn’t written “SUSPICIOUS” all over his face, I definitely trust him.

And if it wasn’t Elias to kill her, it was Big Brother then. Or the umpteenth member of the Lukas family, who was hidden in the tunnels for killing reasons and killing reasons only.

At least the CCTV convinced Jon he hasn’t been fair with his team and that they’re all innocents. Let’s hope he will stop being a creepy paranoid stalker with them and start being a creepy paranoid stalker with Elias. I just don't trust you, Elias.

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In conclusion

So these supernatural shits aren’t simple supernatural shits: they are “holy beings or concepts” worshipped by secret cults. Do I think the Lukas family is one of those secret circles? Yes, that’s what I think. Do I think they worship Big Brother? Yes, that’s what I think too.

But seriously, love the religious undertones. As someone who grew up surrounded by Christianity, seeing religion in a work gets my interest. I just wonder how the religious theme will be developed here.

Speaking of the characters: Jon is still in Paranoia Land, but at least he’s admitting his paranoid thoughts. And even if he acted like an insane creep, his team is still trying to help him. Sure, they’re doing it in their own way, but at least they’re trying. And Martin is quickly rising to the status of saint, because I would’ve been far less nice if my boss stalked me like Jon did with him.

So we're past the first fourth of the series and I have more questions than ever: how many supernatural shits are in this world? What really are they? Will we learn about their origin too? What actually happened to Gertrude? What is Not!Shasha planning? How many more members of the Spider Gang will come? Will Simon Fairchild wake up and choose violence again? And how many more connections will I find in the next ten chapters?

See you soon next week!

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(How about a coffee? ☕)

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[can-i-get-a-yippee]

I like to think of Shannon lives AUs bc she deserved better and I think it could’ve had some great storylines that paralleled/contrasted to Athena and Michael’s divorce storyline.

Like, imagine her and Eddie divorcing and her finding a new partner.

Because Shannon and Eddie loved each other but they were both too passionate, too hot tempered, too stubborn—too alike.

They burned bright together, but they also burned hot. It’s not a sustainable relationship, especially when Chris is involved.

So they divorce, and they co-parent, and it’s fine. It’s not ideal, not by a long shot, but it’s fine — good even. Shannon gets an apartment 20 minutes from Eddie, and a temp job at some finance firm downtown. Eddie still has Chris most of the time, but Shannon negotiated him up to her getting Chris while he works shifts and every second weekend of the month with Carla helping fill in some gaps. He doesn’t love being separated from his son, but he would be lying if he said it isn’t nice to do adult activities with Buck and his 118 coworkers on the weekends Shannon has custody. (Though Buck gripes that he misses getting to see Christopher every weekend, and Eddie can’t help but agree) He and Shannon still argue, bicker, about everything from pick-up schedules to parent teacher conferences. After all, being divorced doesn’t fix their communication issues, but Chris seems happy, and they’re leagues better than when they were married.

Until Shannon announces she met someone.

Well, met isn’t the most accurate word because when she tells Eddie on the front steps of his house after her weekend with Chris, she admits they’ve been seeing each other for almost 4 months.

His name is Jack. He’s a salary man— a financial analyst at some firm that Eddie doesn’t care to remember the name of— and Shannon accidentally spilled a cup of coffee on him when she ran into him at the coffee shop beside her office. He was kind and gracious and offered to buy her a new cup, despite it not being his error. She hadn’t wanted it to happen, hadn’t been looking for it, but something between them had just clicked. It’s going on 4 months and she wants to introduce Chris to him soon, but only if Eddie approves.

She and Eddie might be divorced, but she is determined to make this co-parent thing work, and if he says no, she’ll respect his decision and not bring it up again.

And Eddie, he wants to be angry. He can feel the venom boiling in his throat before she even finishes her sentence. She had divorced him. She had said that she wanted to focus on being a mother and not a wife. He wanted to make it work, and she had given up. Now, barely a year later, she’s asking him to introduce their son to her new boyfriend?

It’s an ugly and unfair feeling that he swallows down when he strains out, “Let me think about it.”

And he tries to ignore the hole in his chest when Shannon gives an apology as her goodbye.

He complains the next day to his coworkers with a mixed response. Bobby tries to offer insight based on his relationship with Athena’s kids and Michael, and Hen and Chimney chime in with their own opinions and personal anecdotes. However, it’s when he’s complaining to Buck in the locker room that he feels his stomach twist

“I just didn’t expect her to move on that fast,” Eddie repeats the sentiment that he had been repeating all shift as he slams the locker door. “We’ve barely been divorced for a year, and she’s already wanting to introduce this guy to our kid? Everything online says to wait at least 6 months, but she’s over here doing it at four months. And she wants me to agree to it, says she won’t introduce him if I’m not ready, making me look like the bad guy if I say no.”

He huffs and turns to look at Buck who has been attentively listening from the bench.

“Eddie,” Buck says it slowly. He’s giving Eddie that earnest, doe-eyed look that he gives when he’s about to say something that he knows Eddie doesn’t like. “Not that I don’t agree with you about Chris here because four months does seem a little early, but it doesn’t feel like that’s what you’re mad at her for.”

Eddie turns away then, unwilling to hold Buck’s stare any longer. The truth is stuck in his throat, and Buck has a way of making it spill out of him.

Because the truth is, Buck is right. He’s irritated about how early in the relationship Shannon wants to introduce their kid to this new guy, but he’s angry that she’s making things change, that she’s moving on from them.

Sure, their relationship wasn’t the best. They had been forced to speed their relationship up from its natural progression when Shannon got pregnant. He’s not even sure if they would’ve lasted the year had it not happened, but then it did and then they were married and then there was army and the fighting and the leaving.

But despite everything, they had always been tied to one another.

And now, she was moving on, building a new life, and Eddie was stuck in place, mourning a life that he never had in the first place.

And what if she wants everything to change? What if she wants to get actually serious with this guy? What if she wants to take Chris more than just every second weekend and try to build a family with him without at all the baggage Eddie had brought? What if this other guy comes in marries his (ex)wife and tries to take his kid and shatters the house of cards Eddie had assembled here?

God, his parents already tried to take Chris. If Shannon tries, he’ll —

“Hey, Eddie, you okay, man?” Buck had stood up and moved beside him. He’s look at him with that stupidly earnest and open expression on his face, and his hand stutters at his side, like it wants to reach out and touch him (and a part of Eddie wishes it would). “I didn’t mean to upset you. I just— you know you can talk to me about anything, right?”

Eddie scrubs a hand over his face. “It’s just— Shannon, we’re just getting a handle on the divorce co-parent thing, and we’re getting okay at it, and now she wants to change everything. We’re finally at a semi stable place, and now she wants to throw a wrench in it because of some guy she just met.”

Buck is quiet for a moment before he questions carefully, “Did you …expect that she would never date again?”

“No!” The response comes too quickly, and then he sighs. “Yes… I don’t know. I just thought we were at a good place, and doing this coparenting thing right, and now she wants to add this new guy into the equation. She wants it to change. “

The ‘I don’t want it to change’ goes unspoken.

Because things are going good right now.

Eddie loves his job. He loves his team.

He and Buck spend almost every moment outside of work together, grabbing beers when Chris is away and going to the zoo when he’s not. Dinners at Bobby and Athena’s are common and so are play dates at Hen and Karen’s. Chris loves Denny and Harry, and Eddie loves that he has a support system here.

Chris is the happiest Eddie’s ever seen him. He’s getting good grades and making friends. His teachers gush about how happy he is— telling Eddie about all Chris’ stories about what he does when he visits his mom or the weekend adventures with Buck. He’s thriving for a kid whose parents just got divorced.

And Eddie’s communication is the best it’s ever been with Shannon. When you take the sex and the relationship baggage, they make a good co-parenting team. Not perfect, not by any means, but they both love their son and centering him seems to have made them more agreeable.

If his life could stay like this, he wouldn’t complain. He doesn’t need anything else, anyone else. He’s happy.

And Shannon wants to mess that all up by starting a relationship that she made clear she didn’t want with Eddie.

“Hey, no matter what happens with Shannon, you know you’re the best father Chris could ask for. Shannon dating this new guy, it doesn’t take that away,” Buck says it with a grin and knocks their shoulders together. “And it’s not like you’re alone in this. Everyone here has your back. I’ve got your back.”

And Eddie— Eddie can’t help but grin at that as he knocks his shoulder back against Buck’s. “Does that mean you’re still down for dinner tonight? I told Chris we could order pizza since we’re getting home late.”

“Only if I get to pick the place,” Buck responds easily as he slings his bag over his shoulder. “The last plan you ordered from skimped on the cheese.”

It’s hard not to think, as they walk out chatting about weekend plans and Chris’ science project, that maybe there’s one thing he wouldn’t mind staying the same forever.