#just dropping something isn’t great. I might like some things that did that. but I’m not going to pretend they were great | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

yoongihan · 8 months ago

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Girl Code - HHJ - OneShot

pairing: art professor hyunjin x admin femreader

genre: office au, university au, coworkers to lovers, angst, fluff,

romantic trope: enemies to lovers (I DID MY BEST OKAY?)

word count: ~4k

rating: T (for at least one objectifying comment)

warnings: hyunjin in glasses, with paint streaks on his clothes and person; mc is kinda rude to him; someone is actually a horrible person in this; characters drink but everyone is of age; hyunjin is older (about 28), mc is 24; probably some cursing because it's me and cursing is my native language;

a/n: story #5 in the skz as romantic tropes collab with @jl-micasea-fics. this is a little bit of her fault too as when the magic school photos dropped she mentioned hyunjin as an art professor. i chose this trope (e2l) to challenge myself as it's not my regular jam annnnnnd i don't know if i really did it all that well. i did try. please be kind to this chronic f2l writer. i apologize for any typos or mistakes. i am my own editor.

-----

Pretty Privilege.

It’s not a thing you personally have experienced, to your knowledge. Maybe you have. Maybe once amongst your friend group, you were considered the stand out and someone gave you a pass because they liked the way your eyes are shaped, or how you smile with teeth, or whatever.

You’ll allow that.

But generally, you hate that it even exists. Pretty privilege. Isn’t it enough to get to be pretty in this world? Without the world groveling at your feet and simultaneously pushing any obstacle out of the way for you?

So when Professor Hwang is hired as the new art professor at the university where you admin, you take an immediate dislike. After, at first, the overwhelming surge of attraction because he truly is the prettiest human you’ve ever seen outside of screen.

Even when your work friends discuss romance, and when Juhye from the Performative Arts department (she has basically the same job as you, just different department) mentions that she thinks he might be interested in her, you join in that yes, he’s very attractive and seems nice, and of course he’d be a great partner for her.

Even if you kind of hate him.

And since you admin in the same department as he teaches (Fine Arts, obv), it’s your job (according to your friends and the unspoken rules that you really wish were spoken and written down) that you hype her up when he’s in the vicinity. You have to.

Girl Code: requiring you to promote her, and not be too friendly with him because one does not want to violate Girl Code.

Once in undergrad was enough and you would do anything not to experience that ostracization ever again.

Unspoken rules that make life more difficult that it already is. You feel very much like you hyping Juhye is as subtle as a truck, and in doing so you are as awkward as well, whatever is very very awkward.

“You locked yourself out again?” You do your best not to hiss at him, but in over one semester of him being on the faculty, the man has locked himself out of his Canvas account at least a dozen times.

Hyunjin, Professor Hwang, as he is to his students, gives you the most sheepish smile, and deep down you acknowledge that it’s cute as hell. This man who could be art himself, looking self-conscious that he can’t be trusted with the basics of technology.

“I know. I don’t know how I do this.” He shrugs, straightening his wire-rimmed glasses. “Isn’t my laptop supposed to save that info for me, so I never have to try and remember?”

“It is.” You think to offer that he can bring his laptop and you can look to see if Google, or whatever browser he uses (probably like Firefox or something equally horrendous), is saving his passwords, but you don’t. Because it’s not in your job description and: “Juhye’s pretty good at that kind of stuff. I’m sure she could make sure it’s doing that. Saving your passwords, login info.”

He hums in lieu of a response, moving from in front of your desk to behind you to see what you’re doing. He doesn’t ask, which makes you bristle, but you’re not doing anything confidential and he’s not really breaking your personal bubble, so you can’t say anything.

“I’ve never asked,” he begins as though talking to you while you’re working isn’t annoying. “But I assume, this isn’t what you went to school for. Did you study tech…stuff?”

You’re mildly amused that he doesn’t use the official term ‘computer science’. But just mildly. You can still dislike someone and still find them amusing on occasion.

“No.”

There’s silence, minus the sounds of your typing and mouse-clicking.

“What did you study?”

You don’t like lying. It’s not a thing you prefer to do in life. You do, everyone does, but you try avoid it as much as possible. So even though you know this might interest Hyunjin and you know you should not interest him, ever, you tell the truth.

“Photography. I mean, I studied business, too, but mostly photography and mixed media art.”

There’s silence yet again.

“Which is why I’m here. In this department.” The silence has become unbearable.

“Photography?”

He’s going to ask to see something.

“You good at it?”

You turn to look at him. He seems genuinely curious, not like he’s about to pass judgment. But, he’s hard to read. That perfect face can look very RBF according to Juhye (which she thinks just makes him all the more mysterious and sexy) and even blank which gives you less on which to assess him for.

His hair pulled back in a ponytail and black textured turtleneck make him seem even more aloof, like the rich pretty boy in an anime.

“My grades and graduating GPA said I was.” You put very little stock into quantifying art and creativity into numbered grades, but you did graduate well enough to please your parents.

He rolls his eyes. “Oh okay then.”

God, he’s annoying.

“Anyway.” You turn back to your computer. “Everything is reset. Your email has the links to come up with a new password. Try to write it down somewhere, or you know, memorize it.”

“No space,” he replies. “No space for memorizing meaningless words and numbers and symbols.”

“Really? What’s your brain full of then? Creative genius?” You don’t even hide your sarcasm.

He laughs. “I hope so. Mostly just images of all the greats I studied. And then my students and what they do. It’s a photo album that never ends and changes order. Often.”

He’s slipping by you toward the door that leads out of the Fine Arts offices. You stare at him, his words lingering.

“Thanks again,” he says, halfway through the door. He smiles at you, a small one, a polite ‘this is how we socially interact’ type smile.

It’s still so stupid beautiful. You hate it.

–

At the next day’s lunch, you dutifully let Juhye know about how you encouraged Hyunjin to bring his laptop and technology woes to her and she brightens and preens, and you almost feel like maybe you don’t hate him.

It’s a small consolation.

One of the benefits (there are just a few) of working at the school that you attended, in the department you majored in, is use of the facilities. Not whenever you want as the current students and professors get first claim on any studio, extra supplies, or the dark room.

In two years of working post-undergrad, you’ve learned when the down times, the lesser claimed times were. Certainly not before midterms or finals. Nor right when the semester begins because all the overachievers feel like studio or dark room time will somehow make all the difference.

But right now, in the in between times, you can book some dark room sessions which encourages you that someday you might ‘make’ it as a professional photographer, that you aren’t losing your skills.

You’d taken a day to drive up to the nearest mountains to one; soothe your soul with nature (and pollen sadly) and two: take a new set of photos. As with everyone else in the 21st century, you use and manipulate digital photographs as well, but you also do film because it’s its own thing.

As you turn on the red light bulbs in the darkroom, negatives now fully developed, you smile because film and the process of getting from undeveloped roll of film to tangible photo makes you happy. It’s a comforting process that you can almost do in your sleep. With how late it was when you went to bed last night is a good thing because two cups of coffee is not doing its usual thing.

There’s a knock on the door of the dark room and your smile immediately drops.

Damn students (it’s a fruitless grievance because it is their right as they are paying a ridiculous amount for this education, but ugh, it’s annoying to be on the bottom rung of the hierarchy).

“Occupied.”

“I left something in there that I need.”

It’s like every muscle of your body tenses, and every nerve sets alight.

“Professor Hwang?” Like you need to confirm.

There’s a pause, like he’s registering your voice before he says your name.

“Yes, I’ve got the safe lights on, but if you make sure everything is off out there, I can open the door.” Sooner he comes in, the sooner he can leave.

There’s a low chuckle. “I know the drill.”

You bristle at the patronizing tone.

“Everything is off.”

You open the door and mentally curse him. Even with the lights which you’d considered an unflattering shade of red, he still looks like art.

Art like a rendition of a fallen angel or romantic vampire with the shadows on his face and red tinge his neck-length brown hair takes on. His glasses are horn-rimmed today, his white shirt pink in the light and sleeves rolled up, black slacks. There are at least three paint smudges on his forearms.

He nods and gives you a polite smile. It’s the most reserved he’s ever been with you, at least since first meeting. You would never describe him as outgoing by any means, but certainly friendly, amiable. He doesn’t hold any of the underlying snobbery of other art professors who have lived so long in the ivory towers of academia and the art world, that any one not well-versed is unworthy of such allowances as kindness or care.

For all his faults, Hyunjin is not the worst.

You step back, aware that you are essentially, just staring at him like a moron. He slips in, glances at the negatives out that you’ve just developed.

“Pleased?” he asks as he moves toward the shelves of chemicals and random items (things left and abandoned by years of students and professors - your favorite is a tiny figurine of the black cat from Kiki’s Delivery Service. No one has taken it back, as though left here on purpose by someone in the past six years. He’s the official mascot of this particular dark room and therefore your favorite).

“Pleased?” you repeat.

“With your work?” He grabs some acrylic paint tubes off the shelf. “What you just developed?”

Now you feel stupid. Obviously that’s what he’s asking about. Not if you’re pleased to see him. That would be stupid. You aren’t. Surely even he can see that.

“Um, not sure.” You return to the film and its small images. You set one image over the projected enlarger so it’s visible to the both of you. It’s not much, a solitary tree, slightly off center in the frame. “Haven’t had a chance to see if it was a total waste of roll or not.”

Even though you don’t look to see him move, you feel him stand slightly behind you to also take in the image.

You hold your breath for a number of reasons.

One; because you don’t need to breathe in his cologne which is actually really lovely (so you hate it).

Two; because his nearness is off-putting as he’s not really breaking any social rules by being too close and darkrooms aren’t exactly spacious, but dammit he’s close.

Three; because you actually want to know what he thinks.

That last one pisses you off the most. You and he don’t dabble in the same medium (he’s painting and drawing; you always stuck with photography, sometimes mixed media) so who is to say his thoughts are at all valuable.

Not that he isn’t skilled. Every professor in the Visual Arts department is, even the ones you dislike the most.

Like him.

“It’s lonely.”

You flinch at his words, his voice seeming loud in the quiet of the room.

“Being asymmetrically composed, the tree feels even more out of place and lost.”

You force yourself to continue staring at the project and not turn to see his expression. Because you might show your thoughts and those don’t need to be discoverable by Professor Hwang Hyunjin.

“I like it. Even if it’s a bit out of focus.”

You lean into the projection to see that he is correct. There is a slight blur to the edges, fuck it all.

You straighten back up. “Intentional.” Not that you moving in and checking it wasn’t a damn giveaway that you are lying like a lying liar, but maybe he’s stupid.

“Ah.”

Maybe a little. Or he lies too.

“Are you entering any contests or doing a showing?”

Does he truly want to have a normal conversation right now? In the dark room? Alone? When you are working on your own stuff?

You take a few steps away, turning off the projector.

“I don’t have anything specific in mind. Just keeping a hand in, you know?”

He nods, the shadows lengthening then shortening on his face. “Not that this subject matter is relevant, but you know our theatre department is looking for a photographer? Dr. Kim mentioned it just yesterday.”

“They are?”

“You can do action and work with that type of lighting?”

You work hard not to sneer. “Yes. The photography program here is pretty thorough.”

He shrugs. “I would hope so, though I must admit I know little of Dr. Cha’s work with students. And only the bare essentials of the craft.” He’s smiling, looking far less like a work of untouchable art and more like someone who regularly laughs; at himself and at the absurdity of the world.

The dried paint on his cheek is wrinkled and breaking with that smile.

You mentally shake yourself.

When you don’t say anything, making the silence veer on awkward, he clears his throat.

“You should apply. I think you’d do well.” He laughs now. It’s silly. “Not that I have much understanding the ins and outs of course, my recommendation is probably worth little.”

“You’d say something?”

“To Kim? Sure.”

“With one photo?”

He now looks amused. “I’ve seen your instagram, too. Dr. Cha often shares his former and current students’ work and I follow her.” He starts to the door. “I’ll say something.” He holds up the paint tubes. “Thanks for letting me in.”

He opens the door before looking back. “Have a good night.” And disappears through it.

The room feels strange now. The red hue seems not as striking, and the air carries that hint of piquancy of his cologne.

You do a physical shake of yourself now before returning to make some prints.

–

When you see Juhye out for drinks with the rest of your compatriots Friday night, you ask her.

“Why didn’t you tell me about the theatre photographer position?” She works in the Performative Arts department, even updates the website. Of all people, she would be one of the first to know.

She’s had about two more cocktails than you which means her eyes take several moments to focus on you. You lean against the bar next to her, waiting.

“Why would I?”

You bite your tongue to retort. “Because I’m a photographer.”

She wrinkles her nose, saying your name in the most patronizing tone you’ve heard since high school. “They want professionals.”

You jerk back as though she swung a dagger at you.

But you try again. Because friends. And Girl Code. “I applied though. Would you say something to Dr. Kim please?”

She takes a deep breath that you can hear despite the loud house music pumping in this bar. “Honey,” The sickly sweetness of the condescension makes you want to gag. “We’re friends and all, but I am not risking my name just because you think you can do something like this. Real friends tell each other the truth.”

As she finishes this quasi-sermon, the bartender produces another drink for her, and a receipt to sign. She does, scrawling also her snapchat username. He takes the slip, makes eye contact with her and smirks before moving to another patron.

“What was that?” you ask, still processing her apparent disregard for your dreams and talent. “I thought you were ‘in love’ with Professor Hwang?” You are petty enough to do finger quotation marks.

She rolls her eyes and shrugs, already looking past you for the rest of your group. “I am. But wanting a luxury car doesn’t mean that one can’t ride in a station wagon.”

If you’d had more liquor, maybe you could have thrown up on her as you currently feel ill, both disgusted and horrified.

To equate humans to cars reeks of objectification and lack of seeing someone as a whole person.

And you might hate Hwang Hyunjin, but you know he’s more than just a beautiful (on the surface) man.

Juhye slips by you to find the others as you realize how incredibly shit of a friend she is. Of a person. In fact, you turn to stare at her back in astonishment because you thought you were good at reading people, at sifting through the kinds of people you want to surround yourself with. Juhye has never been someone you were incredibly close to, but you thought she was decent, even if her taste in men was lacking.

“I didn’t know you came here.”

As though your life is a full-on drama, you turn back to see that in her place is Hyunjin. He’s got a martini glass in hand, the liquid a vibrant green.

“Rarely,” you answer tonelessly, your brain still trying to understand the revelations of the last five minutes. You nod to his drink. “What’s that?”

He grins, alcohol having warmed his smile. “Appletini.”

A surprised laugh exits your mouth before you realize it. You assumed he’d probably drink something like fancy single malt scotch or absinthe (the green). Here he is, this impressive and young art professor, one who has had an extolled art showing in the last year (you might have researched him some when you realized how much you hated him), drinking the equivalent of Apple Jacks in a martini glass.

His smile is a little cute.

He isn’t wearing glasses right now, which is a shame, but his t-shirt and jeans give him less of that art prof vibe, and more of the cute guy you meet at a bar.

“Good?” you ask, finding yourself bewildered and amused.

He nods emphatically, offering it to you as though you’re friends who share.

You shake your head, even though you sort of want to.

“Thank you. I should go.” It might be the lighting, but he looks way too cozy with his hair tucked behind his ears, the wind from outside making it tousled.

You look around to see Juhye and several of your friends over at a booth. They are watching with piercing eyes.

Juhye whispers to another.

You feel it. The momentary terror of doing something wrong, the violation of the code in talking to your friend’s crush.

“Before you do.” He sets down his drink, inching a bit closer to you. “I talked to Dr. Kim. About the job? I can’t say for sure, but I think he was definitely looking forward to talking with you about it. I showed him your series with the cyclists by the Han River, from your insta. One of my favorites of yours.”

You feel your eyes itch all of a sudden, a sudden tightness in your throat. You force back the tears that threaten.

“I…thank you.”

His smile gets even bigger, his eyes nearly squeezed shut in his joy.

You need to go. Like now.

“Of course. What are friends for? Or at least, coworkers.” He giggles.

Friends. The spike of anxiety lessens. Because you know what real friendship is. And it’s not in whispers and unspoken rules and carelessness.

It’s thoughtfulness, it’s giving without asking for anything back.

“If you get the job, I expect you to buy me a drink.” His playful words make you tense all the more, because you see it. You see how kind he is.

He sees you.

“I’m kidding,” he says almost as quickly. “I just–”

“I know.” You meet his eyes and smile though you imagine it’s more teary than warm right now. “I’ll definitely buy you another appletini if I get it.”

There’s no RBF right now. Only sparkling eyes, turned up lips, and kindness.

And you need to go.

“Sure. Um, bye.” You race out of there like being chased by a supervillain.

–

It’s the end of the school year, and even though you still work during the summer (a lowly admin’s job is never done), you feel the excitement.

Because you’re changing departments. After photographing and doing promotional shots of the university’s spring musical, Dr. Kim wants you on staff full-time, to capture all of the Performative Arts department; the classes, the productions, even the silly open mics that the students and professors do every month. The website, the newsletter, the alumni magazine; all have a credit of yours by the time May ends.

You feel like maybe you haven’t been treading aimlessly post-university as much as you thought.

“So,” Hyunjin says, before taking a sip of his luminescent green cocktail. He leans on his elbows across from you. “We aren’t in the same department any more.” There’s a pout at the end, a small, silly thing that makes you roll your eyes, but deep down, you think it’s (he) is adorable.

“I know. You’ll have to bug someone new when you forget your password. Again.”

His pout doesn’t leave. “They might be nicer to me.”

In the months that followed that night at the bar, you decided to apologize to him. It was in his office, when he was sorting through papers and you were nearly on your way home for the day. You had succeeded in avoiding Juhye and him for three days when you got the email from Dr. Kim for a quick interview.

So you stopped by to thank him, then apologize for being rude.

“You hated me? Huh. I thought you were just kind of grumpy. It’s cute.”

To say you were simultaneously both flattered and outraged (he’d not even been offended, once?) would be understatement.

He likes to tease you about it now.

“But to go back to my original thought,” he continues, reaching out to steal a fry from your plate. “No longer in the same department. We’ll have to try and see each other instead of just happening to run into each other.” He raises one eyebrow at you.

“Yeah. Ugh, are you a clingy friend?”

“Not really.” He pauses, taking another drink before setting it back down. “I am…a little bit of a clingy boyfriend.”

You’re holding your breath again.

You can acknowledge that you and Hyunjin aren’t just coworkers, he’s not your enemy (if he ever was) anymore. You’re definitely more friends with him than anyone else from work (you’ve pulled away from Juhye and her little group and honestly, you don’t miss them).

Being friends, being friendly and open with Hyunjin has its own drawbacks because now you have to contend with how lovely a person he is; how talented, funny, goofy, and compassionate. Which makes it difficult. When you hated him, he was easy to keep at a distance.

Now that you like him, you might really like him.

“Uh, we aren’t dating.”

“What do you call this?” he asks, nonplussed that he’s brought up your entire relationship as a topic of conversation, as though you’re discussing the weather, or the latest student’s project. He points at your mostly empty plates, his martini glass, your half-full gin and tonic. Then he points at you and then himself.

“I’m paying though.” Spring in academia is a sprint to the finish and though he’d been joking about you owing him a drink if you got the job, you are currently owning up to it now that the semester is over.

“So? Is it only a date if I pay?” He tsks at you. “I thought you were a feminist.”

Your glare doesn’t have the same bite as it used to. It’s too fond.

“This is a date?”

He leans across the table, adjusting his glasses as though it’ll help him see you better. Even with familiarity, you still feel a bit overwhelmed by him.

“I want it to be.”

There is no policy about coworkers dating at your university, just that professionality reigns at the school. There is no reason why you and Hyunjin cannot date. Even though you often feel like professors are on another level compared to the administration.

He’s not even that much older than you.

Perhaps it’s remnants of being so worried that you might break ‘Girl Code’ if you’re at all nice to him because of Juhye’s ‘claim’ that you are hesitant. Maybe you need to acknowledge that he is so much more than what you or Juhye reduced him to in the beginning.

Maybe you realize that you have been ‘dating’ him awhile without even comprehending it.

Maybe you also lean across the table, letting your lips brush against his stunning ones (if you painted like him, those lips would probably show up in a piece) and hear his soft exhale as though he relaxes. Because he realizes it too.

You like each other. A lot.

His soft kiss in return gives you actual heart flutters.

“I guess I don’t mind a clingy boyfriend. Especially one who is still marked with paint on a date.” You point to the streak of white at his jaw.

He takes your hand in his, gaze dropping to look at his drink, but his smile can’t be hidden.

“Good.”

---

(c) yoongihan 2024. please do not steal, translate, repost, or whatever. stray kids belong to themselves and all idols used in this piece are just the inspiration for characters and do not in any way reflect the actual humans.

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novaursa · 1 month ago

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Web of Gold (the final choice)

- Summary: Alicent could only watch as you handle her son like a lioness who plays with her food.

- Paring: lannister!reader/Aegon II Targaryen

- Note: This is the final part of this story. Just embrace the chaos.

Rating: Mature 16+

- Previous part: rook's rest

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround @purple-1995 @thisbiann @whiteoakoak @deemee33

The courtyard of the Red Keep was quiet, save for the distant hum of activity near the training yard. You had just finished spending time with Aegon in his chambers—an exhausting visit, but one you knew was necessary. His strength was slowly returning, but the scars of Rook’s Rest, both physical and emotional, still lingered on him like a second skin.

You’d barely stepped into the fresh air when you noticed Aemond standing near a large clearing, his tall figure silhouetted against the setting sun. And looming beside him, unmistakable in her sheer size and ancient majesty, was Vhagar.

Your heart sank.

Aemond’s stance was stiff, his single eye fixed on you with that familiar intensity. His hand rested on the hilt of his sword, not as a threat, but as if he needed something to anchor himself. As you approached, the massive dragon let out a low rumble, her great, scaly head turning ever so slightly to regard you, like a cat considering whether or not to bother with a mouse.

“Aemond,” you began cautiously, “what are you doing?”

He stepped forward, his usual calm demeanor masking whatever storm was brewing inside him. “We’re leaving,” he said, his voice low but firm. “You and I. Together.”

You blinked, unsure if you’d heard him correctly. “Leaving? To where?”

“Harrenhal,” Aemond replied without missing a beat, his gaze never leaving yours. “I’ve taken control of the keep. It’s secure, far from the prying eyes of court. Far from… distractions.” The word hung in the air, thick with meaning. You didn’t have to guess what—or rather, who—those distractions were.

You crossed your arms, staring at him as though he’d just suggested flying to the moon. “You want me to leave Aegon and our children and just… run off with you to Harrenhal?”

Aemond’s expression hardened. “Aegon is a shadow of the man he once was,” he said coldly, though there was a flicker of something softer behind his words. “He can’t offer you anything anymore. But I can. I’ve done everything for you, Y/N—everything. We can be free of this place, free of him.”

You stared at him in disbelief. “You think I can just abandon my family? Aegon might be… changed, but he’s still my husband. And our children—what of them?”

Aemond’s jaw tightened, clearly frustrated that you weren’t seeing things his way. “They’ll be safe here. You and I, we belong together. You know that.”

You took a deep breath, trying to keep your temper in check. It wasn’t that Aemond’s offer wasn’t tempting on some level—there was a part of you that did feel drawn to him, that had felt the pull of something more between you. But this? This was madness.

“Aemond,” you said firmly, taking a step toward him, “I’m not leaving Aegon. And I’m certainly not leaving our children. You need to understand that.”

He frowned, his eye narrowing as he stepped closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “Why? What can Aegon give you now? I’m offering you everything. We can start over, away from this cursed place. You don’t have to play the dutiful wife anymore.”

You exhaled slowly, trying to resist the urge to snap at him. “Aemond, I am Aegon’s wife. And those children you want me to leave behind? They’re mine. I’m not just going to run off into the sunset with you and pretend none of this exists.”

Aemond’s frustration was palpable now, his fingers curling into fists at his sides. “You don’t know what you’re saying. I’m offering you freedom. A life that isn’t weighed down by him.”

You glanced at Vhagar, who was watching the entire exchange with an almost bored expression, her massive eyes blinking slowly, as if she were above all this petty human drama. You turned back to Aemond, crossing your arms and giving him a sharp look.

“Aemond,” you said with a sigh, “I’m not getting on that dragon.”

He stared at you, incredulous. “You refuse?”

“I refuse,” you repeated firmly, your voice steady. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have other matters to attend to—like making sure my children are taken care of.”

Aemond’s eye blazed with a mix of anger and desperation, but before he could say anything more, you turned toward Vhagar, who was still looming in the background, waiting for her rider’s command.

You waved a hand at the ancient dragon, much like one would shoo away a stray cat lounging on a cushion it had no business being on. “Shoo, Vhagar. Go on, off you go. Go take a nap or something.”

Vhagar let out a deep, rumbling huff, her massive head tilting slightly as she regarded you with something that almost resembled amusement. After a moment, the dragon shifted, her wings rustling as she slowly lumbered back a few paces, clearly in no hurry to follow your orders—but still, she moved.

Aemond stared at you, utterly speechless, as you casually waved off the largest, most powerful dragon in Westeros like it was a lazy cat that had overstayed its welcome.

“You can’t be serious,” he muttered, his voice tight with disbelief.

You turned back to him, raising an eyebrow. “Aemond, I love you, but I’m not abandoning my life. You’ll have to figure out another way to deal with your issues that doesn’t involve kidnapping me and flying off to Harrenhal.”

Aemond’s face remained unreadable for a moment, his eye searching yours for something—some sign that you might change your mind. But you didn’t budge.

Finally, he let out a long, exasperated sigh. “Fine,” he said through gritted teeth. “But this isn’t over.”

You nodded, watching as he turned back to Vhagar, who seemed almost reluctant to leave the scene of such entertainment. Aemond mounted the great dragon, his jaw tight, but there was a flicker of something resigned in his gaze as he glanced back at you one last time.

“Goodbye, Y/N,” he said quietly, before Vhagar took to the skies, her massive wings beating against the wind as she soared away from the Red Keep.

You stood there for a moment, watching him go, a mixture of relief and sadness settling over you. The temptation Aemond offered had been real, but so was your life here. You had made your choice.

With a sigh, you turned back toward the Keep, your mind already shifting to thoughts of Aegon and your children. The drama with Aemond would have to wait for another day.

The throne room of the Red Keep was a tense place, filled with an eerie quiet as the skies outside darkened. The heavy doors to the chamber had been bolted shut, as though they alone could keep the inevitable at bay. Aegon, though burned and scarred, sat upon the Iron Throne, his face pale but determined. The ordeal of simply climbing the steps to the throne had been an exhausting one, and though he was seated now, he leaned heavily against the jagged iron, every breath a visible effort.

You stood at his side, watching him with a mixture of concern and admiration. He was stubborn, that much was clear—too proud to abandon his throne even now, when defeat seemed to hang in the air like a storm waiting to break. Behind you, your children stood close, their young faces filled with confusion and fear. The Red Keep had always been a fortress, a place of safety, but now it felt like a trap.

Alicent stood just a few paces away, her face drawn tight with determination, though you could see the flicker of fear in her eyes. She hovered near Helaena, who sat quietly, her hands folded in her lap as she murmured something to herself, her eyes unfocused as they often were when things became too overwhelming.

The sound of Syrax and Caraxes had been heard earlier, their roars echoing through the city like the gods themselves had descended upon King's Landing. The sky had been filled with the telltale shadow of dragons, and now, the doors to the throne room felt more like a countdown than a barrier.

Alicent, her voice sharp and unyielding, broke the silence. “We cannot give up hope,” she insisted, though her tone wavered slightly. She looked at Aegon, then to you, as if trying to will you both to share her belief. “Aemond will return from Harrenhal. He will. We sent the raven just as the dragons were spotted on the horizon.”

You glanced at Aegon, your eyes meeting his, and for a moment, there was an unspoken conversation between you—one built on shared glances over the years, one that said more than words ever could. The truth was as plain as day: Aemond was not coming in time. No raven, no dragon, no battle-hardened brother was going to sweep in and save the day.

Aegon’s lips curled slightly, his scarred face twisting into something between a grimace and a smile. He leaned toward you, his voice low. “She still believes, even now.”

You shook your head, trying to suppress the wry smile threatening to form. “Aegon,” you said quietly, “this has gone on long enough.”

Alicent’s head snapped toward you, her expression tight with disbelief. “What do you mean? This is our duty. We must hold this city. We cannot simply—”

“Alicent,” you interrupted softly but firmly, your gaze meeting hers. “It’s over. We’ve fought this fight for far too long, and look where it’s brought us.” You gestured to Aegon, sitting on the Iron Throne, barely able to keep himself upright, a shadow of the man he once was. “The children—our children—deserve better than this endless war.”

Alicent stared at you, her eyes wide with something like betrayal, but beneath that, you could see the cracks in her resolve. The truth had been gnawing at all of them, and now it was finally forcing its way to the surface.

Before she could respond, the heavy doors of the throne room creaked open. The sound echoed through the hall, sending a chill down your spine as you turned to face what was coming. The chamber seemed to hold its breath as a group of armored men entered, their steps measured and purposeful. And at the head of them, with her head held high and her eyes blazing with determination, was Rhaenyra Targaryen.

She looked every bit the queen she had always been meant to be, her black and red gown billowing behind her like the wings of a dragon. Beside her strode Daemon, his usual swagger ever-present, his hand resting lightly on the hilt of Dark Sister. Behind them, their men filled the room, a silent but unmistakable display of power.

For a moment, no one moved. No one spoke. The air was thick with tension, the kind that comes right before a storm breaks.

Aegon’s hand gripped the arm of the throne tightly, the sound of his breath ragged as he leaned forward slightly. “Well,” he muttered under his breath, his voice barely more than a rasp, “here we go.”

You stood by his side, your hand resting gently on his, as you both braced for whatever came next.

The silence hung like a blade in the air as Rhaenyra’s eyes locked onto yours next. For a moment, everything seemed frozen, save for the flickering torches.

You took a deep breath, your hand slipping from Aegon’s as you stepped forward, toward Rhaenyra. Her guards bristled, their hands twitching toward their swords, but Rhaenyra held up a hand, stopping them in their tracks. Daemon, however, remained still, his sharp gaze never leaving you, though his lips curled into an amused smirk, as if the whole scene was nothing more than a game to him.

“Y/N,” Alicent’s voice rang out sharply from behind you, filled with a mixture of fear and disbelief. “What are you doing? Come back. You can’t—”

But you didn’t stop. You met Rhaenyra’s gaze head-on, your heart pounding in your chest, but your voice steady. “I’m trying to end this madness, Alicent,” you said softly, but loud enough for the room to hear. “For all of us.”

Rhaenyra’s eyes flicked to Alicent for a moment, then back to you, her brow arching slightly, though she didn’t move. Behind her, Daemon’s smirk grew wider, though he still didn’t relax, his hand resting lazily on the hilt of his sword as if expecting things to turn violent at any moment.

“Brave,” Daemon drawled, his voice filled with amusement. “Approaching a dragon in its den.”

You shot him a sidelong glance, a wry smile tugging at your lips. “I’ve been living with one for years now, Daemon. You’re hardly the first dragon I’ve faced.”

Rhaenyra’s lips twitched, as if she were suppressing a smile herself, but she stayed silent, waiting to see what you would say next.

You took a deep breath and stopped a few paces from her, your voice calm but firm. “This has gone on long enough, Rhaenyra. The war, the bloodshed, the endless fighting. There’s been enough loss. I’ve come to offer you a deal.”

Rhaenyra’s brow furrowed, though her expression remained measured. “A deal?” she asked, her voice cool but curious. “And what, exactly, are you offering?”

You straightened, feeling the weight of the room’s eyes on you—Aegon, Alicent, Helaena, Rhaenyra, and even Daemon, all waiting for your next move.

“I want to take Aegon, our children, and my family back to Casterly Rock,” you said evenly. “Let us go, and we’ll never trouble you again. Aegon will renounce his claim to the throne. We’ll stay out of the way, and you can rule in peace.”

A ripple of surprise passed through the room, though no one spoke. Rhaenyra’s eyes narrowed slightly, as though she were weighing the offer in her mind.

“And what guarantee do I have that your husband,” she gestured toward Aegon with a slight tilt of her head, “won’t attempt some foolish rebellion once he’s licked his wounds?”

You smiled, glancing back at Aegon, who was doing his best to sit up straight, though it was clear the effort was taking its toll. “I think,” you said wryly, “that Aegon has had enough of wars for a lifetime. Isn’t that right, love?”

Aegon managed a weak, sardonic grin from the Iron Throne. “Aye,” he rasped, his voice hoarse but laced with bitter humor. “I think I’ve had my fill of conquest. The Iron Throne’s overrated anyway—too damned uncomfortable.”

Rhaenyra’s lips twitched again, though her gaze remained steady. Behind her, Daemon chuckled softly, clearly enjoying the exchange.

“Aegon swears,” you continued, your tone firm, “on the lives of his children, that he will never challenge you again. We’ll live quietly in the West, away from court, away from politics. Let us go, and you’ll have one less enemy to deal with.”

For a long moment, Rhaenyra said nothing. The room held its collective breath as she studied you, her eyes flicking to Aegon, then back to you. Finally, she spoke, her voice softer than before.

“You would leave the capital? Leave the realm behind?”

You nodded. “We would. For our children’s sake, if nothing else.”

Rhaenyra’s gaze softened, just a fraction, and for the first time since she had entered the room, you saw something almost like understanding in her eyes. She, too, was a mother. She knew the weight of protecting her children.

But before she could respond, Alicent’s voice cut through the tension once more, her tone sharp and desperate. “You can’t—we can’t give up the throne so easily! Aegon is the rightful king. You have a duty—”

You turned to Alicent, your voice firm but gentle. “Alicent, it’s over. The Iron Throne has brought nothing but pain to this family. It’s time to let go.”

Alicent looked at you, her eyes wide, her lips trembling as if she wanted to argue further, but the words wouldn’t come. She knew, deep down, that you were right. The fight was over, and all that was left was survival.

Rhaenyra shifted, her voice calm but firm. “Very well,” she said at last, her tone leaving no room for doubt. “You may leave. Take Aegon, take your children, and go to Casterly Rock. But know this—if any whisper of rebellion reaches my ears, if Aegon so much as thinks of challenging me again, I will burn Casterly Rock to the ground.”

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest. “Agreed.”

Daemon, still leaning lazily against his sword, raised an eyebrow. “A generous offer, Rhaenyra,” he murmured, though there was still that unmistakable glint of amusement in his eyes. “Though I wouldn’t mind a little rebellion. Keeps things interesting.”

Rhaenyra shot him a warning look, but there was a faint smile playing at her lips. “That won’t be necessary, Daemon.”

You exhaled, the weight of the moment crashing down on you as you realized that you had done it. You had secured safety for your family—for now, at least.

Rhaenyra turned toward the throne, her eyes flicking to Aegon once more, her voice quiet but resolute. “The Iron Throne is mine.”

Aegon, still slumped in the chair, managed a dry laugh. “It always was, Rhaenyra. Enjoy it. I’m off to more comfortable seats.”

With that, Rhaenyra signaled to her men, and the room began to empty, the weight of the war falling away as the path to peace finally opened.

And as you stood there, beside Aegon, with your family behind you, you couldn’t help but feel a small, bittersweet sense of relief. The fight was over. At least, for now.

Casterly Rock had never been this lively. The towering, ancient fortress perched above the waves of the Sunset Sea now echoed with laughter, music, and the clinking of goblets. Since your family’s relocation from King’s Landing, Aegon had been enjoying himself far more than anyone expected. It was as though the Iron Throne and its sharp, uncomfortable spikes had sucked the joy out of him, and now, finally free, he was having the time of his life.

You stood on a wide balcony overlooking the sprawling, sun-drenched landscape, watching Aegon as he lounged on a luxurious settee, a goblet of wine in hand, looking far more comfortable than you’d ever seen him. The children played nearby, their laughter filling the air. Every so often, Aegon would turn to them with a lazy grin and shout something like, “Go on, you little lions! Show them how a real dragon roars!” before collapsing into a fit of chuckles.

Aegon had taken to life at Casterly Rock like a duck to water. His once pale, sickly complexion was now kissed by the sun, and his spirits were high. He reveled in the wealth, the ease, the freedom from responsibility. As for you, the newfound peace and tranquility of Casterly Rock were a blessing—no more politics, no more war. Just wine, family, and the occasional feast that Aegon insisted on hosting for any Lannister cousins who would visit.

The only downside? Alicent.

Despite all the opulence, all the relaxation, Alicent Hightower stood by the balcony, arms crossed, her face set in a permanent frown, as though every bit of merriment was a personal affront. She had insisted on coming to Casterly Rock with you, despite your gentle suggestion that she might want to stay in King’s Landing. Since arriving, she had maintained her usual demeanor—watchful, tense, and, most of all, annoyed by the sheer joy Aegon was taking in his new life.

You couldn’t help but watch her with a mixture of amusement and concern. For days now, she had been pacing, her disapproval palpable. Finally, you could no longer resist, and with a light laugh, you approached her.

“Lady Alicent,” you began sweetly, though there was a teasing edge to your voice, “you’ve been frowning since we arrived. We’re in one of the most beautiful places in Westeros, Aegon is practically glowing with health, and yet…” You gestured to her stiff posture and furrowed brow. “You look like you’d rather be anywhere but here.”

Alicent turned to you, her lips pressed into a thin line. “I simply don’t see how you can all be so… carefree,” she muttered, her gaze drifting back toward Aegon, who had now joined the children in some impromptu game that involved a great deal of roaring and chasing. “The world is still full of dangers.”

You sighed, leaning against the stone balcony rail. “Alicent, we’ve left King’s Landing, we’ve left the politics behind. You can relax. You’re not responsible for every move made in the realm anymore. Why not just… go back to Oldtown? Spend time with your family there. You don’t have to stay here with us if it makes you uncomfortable.”

To your surprise, Alicent’s expression changed—not into the indignant scowl you expected, but into something far more vulnerable. Her brows knitted together, and she looked away from you, her voice quieter than you had ever heard it.

“I can’t,” she said softly.

You blinked, taken aback. “What do you mean you can’t?”

Alicent let out a breath, her hands gripping the edge of the balcony as though she needed something to hold onto. “I’ve spent my whole life in the capital. I’ve always had responsibilities—whether it was to my father, to my children, or to the realm. But now…” She hesitated, the words seeming to stick in her throat. “Now that the war is over, now that Aegon has given up the throne… I don’t know who I am. I don’t know what to do with myself.”

Her admission was so unexpected that for a moment, you weren’t sure how to respond. Alicent Hightower, the woman who had spent her life controlling, organizing, and managing everything around her, was lost now that there was nothing left to manage. She had always been defined by her duty—first to Viserys, then to Aegon, and now… well, now, she wasn’t sure what her place was.

You softened, moving closer to her. “Alicent,” you said gently, “you don’t need to have a grand purpose anymore. You’ve done your part. You’ve raised your children, you’ve kept the realm together through chaos. You’ve earned the right to rest.”

Alicent shook her head, her lips pressing tighter together. “It’s not that simple. I can’t just… relax. I’ve never had that luxury.”

You studied her for a moment, trying to find the right words. “You’ve never had that luxury because you’ve never let yourself have it. You’ve been carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders for so long, but look around.” You gestured toward Aegon, who had now flopped onto the ground, dramatically claiming defeat as your children pounced on him in victory. “He’s happy. The children are happy. The realm is moving forward without us. Maybe it’s time to let go.”

Alicent looked at you, her eyes filled with a mix of confusion and uncertainty, as though the very idea of letting go was as foreign to her as flying a dragon.

“Besides,” you added with a smirk, trying to lighten the mood, “we’ve got all the wine in the world here at Casterly Rock. It’s a shame to waste it on just Aegon.”

Alicent let out a small, reluctant laugh, her shoulders relaxing just a fraction. “I suppose there’s no harm in enjoying a little peace,” she admitted, though there was still a hint of doubt in her voice.

You smiled warmly, placing a hand on her arm. “There’s no harm at all. In fact, I think it’s exactly what you need.”

For a moment, you thought you’d gotten through to her. But then, Aegon—who had clearly been eavesdropping—shouted from the other side of the courtyard, “Yes, Mother! Embrace the wine! It’s the only thing keeping me alive!”

You shot Aegon a mock glare, but he just grinned, hoisting a goblet in the air as the children cheered beside him.

Alicent sighed, but this time there was a hint of amusement in her expression. “Perhaps I’ll take a glass,” she muttered, shaking her head as she walked toward the open courtyard, leaving you smiling in her wake.

As you watched her go, you couldn’t help but feel a small sense of victory. It wasn’t much, but it was a start. Casterly Rock had a way of working its charm on everyone—even the most stubborn of people.

The castle of Casterly Rock had settled into a comfortable routine. The golden sunlight streamed through the windows, and for once, all was peaceful—well, until the thunderous roar of Vhagar pierced the air, shaking the very stones of the ancient fortress.

The sound was enough to rattle even the sturdiest of Lannisters, and Sunfyre, who had been dozing lazily near the cliffs, let out a high-pitched screech that reverberated through the castle, startling everyone awake. Servants rushed to and fro, muttering curses under their breath about “all these damned dragons,” while Aegon groggily sat up from his luxurious bed, blinking in confusion.

“What in seven hells is that racket?” Aegon mumbled, rubbing his eyes, still not fully awake.

You, already half-dressed, sighed as you glanced out the window to see the unmistakable silhouette of Vhagar landing near the cliffs, her massive wings stirring up dust and sending anyone in the vicinity scrambling for cover. “Looks like your brother has come to visit,” you said dryly.

Aegon groaned, throwing himself back onto the bed. “Of course, it’s Aemond. Couldn’t send a raven like a normal person, could he? No, he has to drop in with Vhagar and scare half the bloody castle.”

Just as you were pulling on your gown, the door to your chamber flew open, revealing a very irritated Lord Jason Lannister, his usually impeccable hair disheveled, his face flushed with annoyance. “What now?” Jason snapped, his voice carrying the unmistakable tone of a man who had been woken up one too many times by dragons lately. “First, Sunfyre’s been keeping half the keep awake with his screeching, and now Vhagar arrives like a bloody storm? How many dragons are you lot hiding in this castle?”

You smiled sweetly at Jason, though you couldn’t resist the urge to tease him. “Come now, Uncle. Surely you, of all people, are used to hosting royal guests.”

Jason threw his hands up in exasperation. “Not this many. And certainly not ones that come with wingspans larger than my dining hall!”

Before you could respond, a familiar voice echoed through the halls. “Where is he?”

Aemond strode into the room, his dark cloak billowing behind him as he entered, his eye cold and unreadable as always. He glanced at you briefly, his expression impassive, but there was an unmistakable heaviness in the air. You could feel his gaze linger for just a moment longer than necessary before he turned his attention to Aegon, who was still sprawled out on the bed like he’d been woken from the dead.

“Aegon,” Aemond said, his voice steady and calm. “I’ve come to say goodbye.”

Aegon blinked up at him, his face scrunched in confusion. “Goodbye? What do you mean, goodbye? You’re not going anywhere.”

Aemond’s eye flickered with something—perhaps frustration, perhaps regret—but he kept his expression neutral. “I’m leaving for Pentos. It’s time.”

Aegon sat up slightly, still perplexed. “Pentos? What in the seven hells are you going to do in Pentos? And why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

Aemond crossed his arms, his gaze steady. “Because it’s not your decision to make, brother. My place is elsewhere now.”

Aegon scratched his head, clearly still half-asleep and utterly confused. “Didn’t we talk about this already? Why does everyone keep leaving for Pentos? Am I missing something?”

You placed a comforting hand on Aegon’s shoulder, smiling at him reassuringly. “Don’t worry, love. You’re not missing anything important. Aemond’s just… moving on to new things.” You gave Aemond a pointed look, silently communicating that whatever unresolved issues he had could stay unresolved.

Aemond’s eye met yours, and for a brief moment, something flickered there—something ambiguous, something unspoken. It wasn’t the first time you’d seen that look, and you knew it wouldn’t be the last. But now wasn’t the time for lingering glances and hidden meanings.

Aegon, oblivious as ever, looked between you and Aemond with a puzzled expression. “Moving on? To what? A vacation in Pentos?” He let out a snort of laughter. “I didn’t realize you were the relaxing type, brother.”

Aemond, unamused, simply inclined his head. “It’s not a vacation. But yes, you could say I’m… finding new opportunities.”

Aegon waved a hand lazily. “Whatever you say. Just don’t go burning any cities while you’re there.”

Aemond’s lips twitched ever so slightly, but he said nothing, instead offering a final, silent nod. His gaze lingered on you once more—just a heartbeat longer—before he turned on his heel and left the room, his boots echoing against the stone as he strode out, leaving the tension in the air behind him.

As soon as Aemond was gone, Aegon let out a loud yawn, stretching his arms above his head. “Pentos,” he muttered, shaking his head. “What is it with people and Pentos these days?”

You smiled at him, patting his cheek playfully. “Don’t worry about it, love. He’ll be fine, and so will we.”

Aegon blinked up at you, clearly still half-dazed. “But why did he look at you like that? Am I missing something?”

You leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead, your voice dripping with affection as you reassured him. “You’re not missing anything, Aegon. You’re the most important person here. Let Aemond run off to Pentos. We have everything we need right here.” You smiled sweetly, love-bombing him with all the tenderness he adored.

Aegon beamed up at you, his confusion melting away as he basked in your affection. “You’re right,” he said, his voice warming. “We’re doing just fine, aren’t we?”

You nodded, giving him a look that was both teasing and sincere. “More than fine. We have the sun, the sea, our family, and all the wine you could ever want.”

Aegon chuckled, clearly enamored as always, and leaned back into the cushions with a contented sigh. “Gods, you really do know how to make a man feel like a king, don’t you?”

You smirked, pouring him another goblet of wine. “It’s my specialty.”

As Aegon took the goblet and smiled up at you with that adoring, slightly dazed look in his eyes, you couldn’t help but feel a small sense of satisfaction. Whatever had happened at Rook’s Rest, whatever tension still lingered between you and Aemond—it didn’t matter now. Aegon was happy, and for the first time in a long while, life at Casterly Rock was peaceful. Well, mostly peaceful—aside from the occasional dragon roaring at dawn, of course.

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achromatophoric · 3 months ago

Text

In the vampire dorms at Nevermore University, a very exhausted Enid is freaking out in Yoko’s room.

Yoko: Whoa there, pup! What’s going on? And why do you reek of sex?

Enid: Yoko, you have to hide me. Please!

Yoko: Sure thing, mi casa es tu casa. Now can you tell me what’s going on?

Enid: *hurriedly closes the drapes* I-I was dumb, Yoko. I was so fl-fliipping dumb a-and— do you have anything t-to like, drink? I’m so thirsty.

Yoko: Yeah, water and juice in the mini. Where’s short, dark, and loathsome?

Enid: *fetches a drink and chugs it in one go*

Yoko: Damn, girl. You weren’t kidding.

Enid: *gasps* Willa’s— ugh. This is so embarrassing.

Yoko: Bitch, I love you, but imma need you to wolf up and talk!

Enid: Fine! Fine. Okay. So. You know that like, stuff you got us?

Yoko: The medieval sex toys?

Enid: No, the other stuff.

Yoko: The uncensored 3rd edition of the Necronomikama Sutra?

Enid: No! The other other stuff!

Yoko: *thinks*

Yoko: The bottle of XXXtra-strength succubus extract from Great Uncle Tepes’ personal reserves?

Enid: *nods emphatically*

Yoko: Talk. Now.

Enid: Okay, so like, it’s been a super tough semester. I’ve been stressed and Willa’s been extra stressed, what with the investigation, her double major, and that new book deal.

Enid: *fidgets* So we uh, decided to let off steam. Have a night to ourselves. But, see, Willa has this crazy mad tolerance to poisons and drugs, so we thought it couldn’t hurt for her to have a little extra, and—

Yoko: How much, Enid?

Enid: Uh, like, um…

Yoko: How. MUCH?

Enid: H-Half—

Yoko: HALF the DROPPER?!

Enid: —the bottle.

Yoko:

Yoko: *shrieks*

Enid: Shhh! SHHH!!! She might hear you!

Yoko: *shakes Enid* A human dose is two drops, Enid! TWO!! DROPS!!!

Enid: Oh… uh, how much is in half a bottle?

Yoko: Something like three fucking hundred.

Enid:

Enid: Oh flip. Oh flippity flip flip. That explains why she’s so crazy horny right now.

Yoko: YA THINK!?

Enid: Uh. Um. How long will it take to wear off?

Yoko: How should I know?! No human has ever had more than maybe ten drops. Ten-uh!

Enid: And uh, how— how long did that take to wear off?

Yoko: Three days.

Enid: Oh no! Oh nononoooooo.

Enid: There has to be something we can do. I’m like, so tired and hungry and sore right now. I… I need to hide. Get some sleep. Recover.

Yoko: Okay, okay, look, I’ll try to contact Great Uncle Tepes. Just lay low here. And uh, maybe it isn’t that bad? I mean, it’s just ol’ Enidsexual Addams! How hyped up can her demonically-enhanced sex drive really—

Wednesday: *distantly* Enid? Where are you, mi lobita deliciosa? I still crave you. I still need you.

Enid: Ohgawdohgawd— mmmffftt!

Yoko claps a hand over Enid’s mouth and yanks her down into a huddle.

Yoko: 🤫

Enid: 🫢

Wednesday: *growing closer* We have yet to finish playing, my dearest delectable wolf. As I promised, this does not end until we’ve turned your clitoris…

Wednesday: … into a clitorwas.

Enid: 😭

Yoko: 😨

#nevermore university #incorrect wenclair #incorrect wednesday addams #incorrect wednesday quotes #wednesday addams #enid sinclair #yoko tanaka #wenclair #ficlet #wednesday netflix #incorrect quotes

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i314flix · 4 months ago

Text

— PART ONE, PART TWO.

the one where the thought of someone liking you romantically has never crossed your mind, much less being liked by your own crush, sirius black, who proves to you that all your doubts are nonsense.

pairing: sirius black x fem!reader

word count: 3k

rating: PG-15

content: fluff, established relationship au; gryffindor!reader

warning/s: mentions of being insecure, low self-esteem

opening note. it took a whole year for me to finish writing this part two lmao, but for the readers who got to read part one way back, i hope y’all like this!

Being seen with Sirius—and frequently, might you add—indeed became the talk of the town for the first few days.

As soon as the news spreaded, Iris and Martha, your close friends, interrogated you endlessly inside your shared room at the dormitory, asking a bunch of questions that ranged from how did Sirius confess and what did you feel for the aforementioned guy.

They labeled themselves as ridiculous and as oblivious as you were when they realized that all the gestures that Sirius has been doing in all the times they accused him of liking Iris were actually directed to you. They apologized, for not seeing it themselves and for not thinking of you as the person Sirius liked, and told you that they were going to be happy and supportive of you as long as they saw that you were happy too and that Sirius treated you well.

When your Hogsmeade date came, you spent the whole day just getting to know Sirius. Turns out, he was more well-mannered than you thought. He was a gentleman; he opened doors for you, offered to pay for everything, was the one who ordered your meal, stood up whenever you wanted to follow up something from the counter, and carried your bag when you bought some sweets from Honeydukes.

But what you liked most about him now was how he seemed genuinely interested in you and whatever that happened in your life. He made it apparent that he really was keen on discovering more about who you really were, from your hobbies, to your favorite things, and where you grew up.

“My parents… I don’t know if you’ve heard it from somewhere,” you began as you walked with him back to the path that led back to the Hogwarts castle, “but they’re, uh, Muggles. So, that means—”

“You’re Muggleborn,” Sirius supplied for you, appearing not even the slightest bit bothered by the fact. “And you don’t have any siblings, do you?”

You answered him, quite confused that he didn’t dwell too much on your revelation, but chose to drop it for now. “None.”

“Ah, so that makes you the only witch in your family.”

“Yeah,” you nodded, “uh, does that sound okay?”

He glanced at you with a quirk of his eyebrow. “Of course. Why wouldn’t it?”

“I don’t know. You’re a Pureblood, and you come from an excellent line of wizards.”

“You have a point,” he said, still nonchalant as ever, “but I’m… well, you can say I’m a bit different from them. I mean, to start it off, I’m a Gryffindor.” He chuckled. “Plus, I’ve moved out from my home decades ago.”

“Really?”

He nodded. “I live with James over the summer. His parents treat me as their own. Nicest couple, the Potters.”

“Wow. I never knew.”

“Well, being a teenage runaway and an outcast in my own family isn’t exactly something I should be proud of.”

You both laughed.

You were relieved to find out that there was no issue about you being a Muggleborn, especially since as stated, he came from a family of impressive and some well-known wizards who—from what you remembered—believed that being a Pureblood was equivalent to being practically royalty in the wizarding world.

Even if you knew that he wasn’t like that to begin with, there was still some doubt in your mind that perhaps his mindset is the same as theirs, considering that you’ve been a victim of prejudice over the years you studied in Hogwarts and was even called a Mudblood by a Pureblood student when you surpassed them on an exam in second year.

So, to have a confirmation right now was great. You were happy to hear from him that he didn’t have any problem with it, unlike some people who you’ve caught muttering to themselves about how Sirius could associate himself with a person like you, which inevitably led to some insecurities building up.

“Do you reckon I can get away with taking you out again next week?” asked Sirius once you were back in the Gryffindor common room, stopping before you where you stood at the last step of the stairs leading to the girl’s dormitory.

Your eyebrows rose. “There’ll be a next time?”

“Yes. If that’s okay with you,” he said with a patient smile. “Or did I read the signals wrong and you actually hated spending time with me today?”

“Don’t be foolish. I didn’t hate it.”

“You didn’t?”

“Not one bit.”

“Then how did you like it?” He was suddenly doing it again, that thing he does wherein he moves closer to you and you were bound to move away because of shyness, but somehow at this instance, you couldn’t command your feet to do its usual response.

“Hm?”

“Was it nice?” He continued, a hand now placed on the stairs’ handrail, leaning towards it. “Was it okay? Was it average? Would you ever want to be with me again?” He was teasing, it was evident on his big smile and his mischievous expression.

“I think you already know the answer to that.” You frowned cutely.

“Oh, I really don’t.”

“Sirius…”

“Tell me what you think,” he urged, tone gentle.

There were girls from your house walking down the steps, seeing the scene of Sirius gazing at you and you looking flustered playing in front of them. They hushed among themselves, glancing at you in envy, and you felt your cheeks burn at the attention.

“It was nice.” You told him finally.

“Just nice?”

“Wonderful,” you corrected.

He nodded solemnly, waiting.

“And I’d like to do it again sometime.”

He grinned. “That’s more like it. That’s exactly what I wanted to hear.”

You smiled down at the floor. “As if I was going to say something else.”

He lifted your chin up so that your eyes could meet. “Still, I like hearing it come from your lips.”

Before you went upstairs to your room, Sirius reached for your hand and kissed the back of it, winking at you and then heading to the boy’s dormitory.

For the following weeks, the both of you were consistently hanging out and going on dates. It reached a point wherein your respective friend groups were starting to merge. It was either Martha and Iris who were going to be with you two, while anyone from Sirius’ own friends tagged along and joined the party as well.

You were naturally growing more comfortable with Sirius day by day. You even allowed him to hold your hand by the third date. He has stolen a few kisses on your forehead and cheek, and has laid his head on your lap whenever you were in the Gryffindor common room, Sirius sometimes getting your hand and placing it gently on his hair, asking if you would stroke it as he tried to take a nap.

Everything was going at such a smooth and great pace.

Sirius was great. His friends were great. What you were feeling for him was getting stronger.

The only problem was the bitter people who had no business having a say in your blooming relationship.

You knew you shouldn’t mind them, but it was hard when you could hear students whispering about you in classes and during breaks, always going on about how someone like you didn’t seem to be a good fit for Sirius, either in deep belief that Purebloods shouldn’t date Muggleborns or that you were far too quiet and timid to be a wonderful match for the ever so magnetic Sirius Black.

You couldn’t agree more, to be frank. However, your greediness and happiness were what mattered to your most in situations like these that you managed to fade those comments out.

That didn’t mean it didn’t hurt though.

Or influenced you to sometimes see yourself in a harsher light.

“I knew you’d still be here,” Sirius spoke from behind you, a quick kiss being planted on your temple before he took the spot next to you on the sofa.

It was past midnight, and you were still working on an essay for History of Magic. You promised Sirius an hour or two ago that you weren’t going to stay up too late, but you haven’t been adding any new paragraphs to your essay because of your overthinking, so that meant you also haven’t reached your personal quota that was made in the first place to prevent you from cramming the said output.

“I thought you were going to sleep,” you replied, looking at him as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders. “Didn’t you say you have training for Quidditch in the morning?”

“I do.”

“Which means you really have to go to bed.”

“I tried to. Really. But I couldn’t.”

“Why not? Do you need warm milk or a frame that has dozens of sheep for you to count to help you get drowsy?”

He rolled his eyes. “Ha, very funny, but I actually wanted to make sure that you were already in your room. It’s not good to be here all alone.”

“I do it all the time. Nobody’s usually up in the common room at this hour, anyways.”

“Well, next time, tell me, so I’ll keep you company.”

“Oh, but that won’t be necessary.”

“I’m aware,” he said. “However, I insist. Come on, love, we’ve talked about this.”

You smiled, apologetic. “Sorry. I should know better, shouldn’t I?”

“Well, you told me that you’re still getting used to it, so I’m not holding that against you.”

“Yeah. But that’s just it, actually. I know that I should be getting used to it. To us… to you… but my brain keeps telling me that it’s bad to do so.”

“How come?”

“I don’t know,” you trailed awkwardly, realizing that you might have said too much, but you didn’t want to stop giving him a little bit more of your thoughts, getting a sudden rush of courage you’ve been wanting to have, “perhaps just, I feel like… I don’t deserve this. Any of what’s happening between us.”

Sirius stared at you, confused. “That’s ridiculous.”

“I just feel like this is all a wonderful dream that I’d have to wake up from soon.”

“____,” he began to say your name, but you shook your head, already sensing where it was heading.

“You don’t have to say anything, Sirius. It doesn’t have anything to do with how you’re making me feel.”

“Then what’s making you think this way? Is it because of what the others are saying?”

In your silence, he got the answer he needed.

“It’s absolute rubbish, you know,” he said. He sat up straight too, appearing more passionate now. “People don’t know what they’re blabbering about. All they want is to stick their noses into others’ businesses when they don’t know anything.”

“Sometimes they have a point, though.”

“Such as?”

“Such as you being a Pureblood and me being a Muggleborn not making any sense.”

He seemed frustrated at that. His nostrils flared a bit when you mentioned it. “Since when did that matter anymore? Lily and James are literally the same.”

“Yeah, but we’re not the same same as them. We’re still different. Lily’s different. She’s much more spectacular than I am.”

“Come on, you’re being absurd. You’re amazing, ____.”

You had the nerve to laugh. “It’s fine, really. You don’t have to make me feel better. If there’s something that I’m used to, it’s this.” You sighed, going back to your previous position and focusing back on your parchment. “I’m sorry I brought it up in the first place.”

“No, don’t be,” he reached for your hand and forced you to face him again, in which you did, but you still couldn’t look him in the eyes. “I should be the one apologizing. I haven’t been checking up on you about this. I should have known better that this was something that would bother you.”

“What do you even see in me, Sirius?”

“What?”

“We nearly have nothing in common. You should be someone who’s at the same level as you are.”

“No, I don’t. I much rather be with you—regardless of how different we are, I don’t particularly care and I never thought of it as an issue nor will I ever do.” Sirius pursed his lips, appearing a bit nervous now because of what he was going to say. “Look, ____, I like you so much. I like every aspect of you and what kind of person you are. I see what you’re made of, and I cherish you very much because of it. I like your kindness, your wit, your energy, and your whole being. You’re simply the easiest person to adore, and I’m utterly puzzled that you cannot see it.”

Your tongue felt dry. No one has ever declared what they felt for you in that manner before. It caused your eyes to tear up a bit at the overwhelming reality that there was a person out there who saw you this way, who liked you for who you are and didn’t give two cents of what others thought of about it. You were so accustomed to being unseen, not given that much importance to, that to have Sirius tell you what you meant to him brought indescribable contentment in your heart.

So, without thinking, you leaned towards him and kissed his lips, bringing your arms around his neck while he parted his mouth in surprise, nonetheless wrapping his own around your waist to support your weight on him.

Sirius reciprocated the kiss, matching the vigor you were showing him, despite being shocked that you were the one who initiated your first ever real kiss with him. He was under the impression that it would take more dates before the both of you would reach this point, a concept that he didn’t have any problem with since he was sincere when he said he’d be patient with you, and that he’d be the one who was going to test the waters before asking if you were good with the thought of him planting a kiss on your lips.

“I like you so much too, Sirius,” you whispered, pulling away and gasping for air. “Having you be in my life is perhaps one of the most unexpected yet greatest things to happen to me.”

He grinned at that, pressing another firm kiss on your lips that made you sigh. “You’re so wonderful, love. I should’ve been with you since first year if only I wasn’t a bloody coward.”

You both laughed at his statement.

“It’s fine,” you assured him. “You have a lifetime now to show me what I’ve been missing.”

“You’re exceptionally bold tonight.” He observed.

“Well, the guy I have been crushing on and dating just made a heartfelt declaration of his attraction to me so I’m feeling my best.”

“About time that he did, honestly. Will this guy have the honor of being officially your boyfriend if he asked tonight?”

Your eyes widened. “That depends. Is he going to ask right now?”

“He’s about to. Just after he stops pretending that he’s pertaining to another guy and not himself.”

Another laugh and you were kissing him again, Sirius holding onto you tightly as he kept you in his embrace.

“Be mine?” he murmured against you, drawing his head back a little so he could stare directly at your eyes.

You smiled. You were on cloud nine; there was nothing that could ruin your entire year. “Yeah.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes.”

Sirius leaned for a longer kiss, much longer than the one you just shared earlier. He thought of how he could stay all night like this, how he might have to fake sickness just to ditch quidditch practices so he wouldn’t have to wake up so damn early, but before he could seriously contemplate it, you retracted your mouth from his and was telling him that he should go back to sleep because he had a tiring day ahead of him.

He frowned, wanting to kiss you again but you shook your head, evading his advances and giggling. “Sirius, you have practice in a few hours,” you told him again, “and I have to finish my essay too. You should head back.”

“For real?”

“For real.”

“But—”

“No, no.” You stood up and pulled him with you. “As your girlfriend now, my opinion holds more bearing, so when I say that you should go back to sleep—”

“I should follow you?” he finished, allowing you to lead him back to where the boy’s dormitory is headed.

You grinned, teasing. “Only if you want to, of course.”

He snorted. “You promise not to stay up too late? Because as your boyfriend, I should be entitled to stop you from making bad decisions as well.”

“Yes, I won’t. You have my word.”

“Good.” Sirius pecked your lips. “Goodnight, beautiful.”

An even bigger grin made its way to your features. “Goodnight. I’ll see you at lunch?”

He nodded. “You’ll probably catch me standing at the Gryffindor table too. I have to announce to the whole school that you’re my girlfriend. Can’t have anyone thinking you’re still available, right?”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“I would.”

“Sirius.”

“Goodnight. Dream of me, would you?” He snickered, abruptly rushing to the dormitory and leaving you there, speechless.

You were positive that he was only bluffing to tease the hell out of you who was not a fan of too much attention, but somehow, considering Sirius’ track record of being mischievous, you suddenly feared that he was not bluffing like you reckoned him to be.

Not to mention that he could be really petty at times too, and given that a lot of students still did not believe that a person like him would like a person like you, making a dramatic proclamation of how much he liked you and how much he hated those who couldn’t keep their idiotic opinions to themselves would certainly make a point.

For some reason, you found yourself smiling at the idea, secretly pleased that you had Sirius—the person you were now sure would move the earth and moon for you if that was what you wanted.

gentle reminder: this author is a sucker for validation so please don’t hesitate to share your thoughts about this! ♡

#sirius black x reader #sirius black #sirius black imagines #sirius black drabbles #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter imagines #marauders #marauders imagines

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solarmorrigan · 11 months ago

Note

For the angst prompt if you’re still doing it:

“Don’t listen to them. Don’t you EVER listen to them.”

Please

Hello! I'm afraid this one might not have come out quite as seriously as the others (might be channeling all my Serious Angst Energy into my ongoing fic at the moment), but hopefully it's enjoyable, anyway??

[No warnings except maybe some unkind self-directed internal dialogue from Steve]

“Y’know,” Eddie drawls, looking Steve up and down where he’s standing in the doorway, silhouetted by the light of the front hall, “correct me if I’m wrong, but you don’t look especially busy.”

Steve, caught out in a lie, clearly having been sitting around at home in his sweats when he’d specifically told Eddie that he couldn’t come over tonight because he was busy, does the only thing he can think of: he keeps lying.

“I am,” he says.

“Uh huh.” The way Eddie draws the hum of his agreement out says that he doesn’t believe Steve in the slightest. “And what, if I may ask, are you busy with, dressed in loungewear and sitting at home?”

Scrambling, Steve reaches for the first excuse that comes to mind, something he’d heard his mother say to someone over the phone years ago, when he was still a kid and she’d still made excuses to get out of social engagements and stay home with him.

“I’m washing my hair.”

Eddie bites down on a laugh so quickly and so visibly, Steve is surprised his teeth don’t go right through his lip.

“Are you?” Eddie asks, voice gone high and tight with mirth.

“Yep,” Steve answers.

“Well, damn, I don’t know why you didn’t invite me along to help,” Eddie says, grinning at Steve. “I feel like I’ve proven my skill in that arena before.”

Steve stares at Eddie, mouth working, feeling slow and useless and out of ideas. “Uh…”

With a sigh, Eddie lets his smile drop. “Look, can I come inside?”

The jig is up, so Steve just nods and steps aside to let Eddie in.

“What are you even doing here?” Steve asks as he leads the way back to the living room, where he’d been sitting on the couch and moping.

“Steve, I knew you weren’t busy tonight. You’re kind of a terrible liar,” Eddie says.

And that isn’t strictly true; Steve is a great liar – as long as he doesn’t feel guilty about it. He’s never been good at lying to people he loves.

They sit down; Steve shoves the magazines he’d been pretending he would actually be able to focus on out of the way (more proof of his pathetic attempt at a lie), and Eddie—ever blunt, ever direct—jumps right in.

“So I kind of feel like you’ve been avoiding me lately.”

Steve winces. “Not avoiding you, I’ve just been… limiting my time with you.”

Eddie looks stricken, and Steve would like to die, actually. Why did he phrase it that way?

“Did… I do something, or say something, or, like–”

“No!” Steve rushes to reassure him. “No, no, not at all, it’s nothing you did, you’re amazing, it’s not you, it’s…”

Eddie cocks an eyebrow at him. “It’s not me, it’s you?”

“I mean…” Steve sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Kind of, yeah.”

For a long moment, Eddie sits, brows furrowed, staring at Steve. Steve fights the urge to squirm under the intensity of his gaze.

“I’m trying super hard to figure out what’s going on right now, but I’m kind of coming up blank,” Eddie finally admits. “Are we… Are we breaking up?”

“No!” Steve blurts again, reaching this time for Eddie’s hands, as if he can keep Eddie from realizing what a goddamn idiot he is and leaving if he just holds on tightly enough. “Shit, no, that’s – I’m completely fucking this up, that’s the opposite of what I want to happen, that’s why I’ve been limiting my time with you.”

Though Eddie’s hands have turned in Steve’s grip, automatically holding onto him, he stares at Steve as though he’s lost his mind, which is fair. “Okay,” Eddie says slowly, “I admit you have a little more experience with relationships than I do, but isn’t the point to spend as much time as possible with the person you’re dating? Because you like them?”

“It’s… Usually, I guess, yeah.” Steve shrugs, suddenly wishing maybe that he hadn’t taken Eddie’s hands, because now he can’t get away, can’t duck out from under those dark, searching eyes. He settles for staring down at their joined hands as he speaks. “It’s just – I can be… kind of a lot? I like someone and I just kind of slam my foot on the gas and don’t look back and that’s too much, I know, so I’ve been trying not to, like, overwhelm you, because I really, really don’t want you to get sick of me, and–”

“Who the hell told you that?” Eddie cuts in sharply.

Steve’s eyes snap back up, finding Eddie looking so thoroughly offended that he’s not sure what to make of it. “Told me what?”

“That you’re too much,” Eddie presses, his hands going tighter around Steve’s.

“Uh,” Steve says, uncertain of what kind of answer Eddie’s looking for. The fact that Steve goes all-in too quickly is just common knowledge; the fact that it overwhelms and annoys people is kind of a general consensus.

Eddie shakes his head. “Never mind, it doesn’t even matter. Don’t listen to them. Don’t you ever listen to them,” he says, low and intense. “You’re not going to overwhelm me, Steve. I can’t get enough of you. I don’t think I’ll ever have enough of you, but the only way I’m gonna know for sure is if I get to have you around as often as possible for as long as you can stand me.”

The words, for a moment, don’t make any sense. No one has ever wanted Steve around that much; no one’s ever met him where he is in terms of hunger for companionship.

“You… want me around that often?” he asks, eyes flicking from Eddie’s face to their hands and back again.

“I want you around all the goddamn time. I want you when I wake up and when I go to sleep and when I’m having breakfast and when I’m doing shit around the house and when I’m playing a show and when I’m watching TV,” Eddie rattles off. “I’m not even exaggerating, it’s honestly kind of a problem.”

“A problem?” Steve asks, brows coming together in concern.

“It’s a problem because you’ve been limiting your time, thinking that I’m going to get tired of you.” Eddie disentangles their hands and reaches up to cup Steve’s jaw, palms soft and a little sweaty from their combined grip, but gentle—almost reverent—against his skin. “Sweetheart, I am never going to get tired of you.”

From anyone else, that would be hard to believe, but the way Eddie looks at him, dead-on and so fucking sincere, Steve can’t help but take the promise in with a hopeful flutter in his chest. He leans forward, pressing his mouth to Eddie’s, keeping the kiss chaste and slow before he pulls back to murmur, “Promise?”

“Promise,” Eddie answers immediately. “I promise, I promise, I promise.”

He tugs Steve forward after that, pushing and pulling him until he’s managed to lay out across the length of the couch and has situated Steve over him, lying on his chest like a weighted blanket. He sighs and wraps his arms around Steve, like he still wants to pull him closer.

“Perfect,” he says.

“Yeah?” Steve asks, balancing his chin Eddie’s sternum so he can smile up at him.

“Mhm,” Eddie hums. “Now I just have to figure out how to keep you this close all the time.”

“Might be kinda tough,” Steve says, fighting to keep his smile from growing to ridiculous proportions.

“Eh.” Eddie shrugs, ducking down to press a kiss to Steve’s forehead. “I’m willing to take the time to figure it out.”

And somehow, Steve thinks that might be the most romantic thing anyone’s ever said to him.

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #eddiesteve #eddie is perfectly content to be smothered actually please and thank you #solar wrote #answers from solar #anonymous

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hailsatanacab · 11 months ago

Text

a father's son

Happy holiday truce, @dashing-through-ecto!! I was your gifter this year, I hope you enjoy the fic! Based on your prompt: "Do you need any help, Dad?"

Word count 2.2k - ao3 link

Things have not been going well for Danny Fenton.

Not only did he fail in intercepting Lancer’s call home, so now Mom and Dad know about his latest grades—he didn’t even get enough answers for an F this time, not when he fell asleep within the first five minutes—but they also caught Jazz taking the trash out for him.

“That’s one of your chores, young man! Heaven knows you don’t have many of them, which is why you need to be responsible and actually do the ones that we give you! It’s just not good enough, Daniel James Fenton, do you hear me?”

The full name.

It’s not often he gets it, but it sucks each and every time he does.

What sucks even more is that now, with what little free time he has, he’s cleaning the lab. It’s just not fair!

Broken glass skitters along the floor as he sweeps it up into the dustpan, ectoplasm still clinging to the bottom of the beaker.

He can’t even goof off—can’t even use his powers to finish quicker—because his dad is sitting at the workbench tinkering with whatever his newest interest is.

Great. Looks like he’s stuck cleaning the boring, human way.

The lab is quiet, but it isn’t silent.

Ectoplasm drips, maddeningly, from the gloop stuck on the ceiling. That’s a form of torture, isn’t it? Danny’s pretty sure he’s heard that before, that the constant sound of water droplets will drive someone insane. He can relate, because this is certainly testing him.

Dad’s talking to himself, too, little murmurs about what he’s doing, where he should be soldering, how it should be working and why it isn’t.

Vaguely, Danny wonders what he’s working on. Sure, it’s probably some ghost thing, but that’s not all they do! His parents made some pretty great advances before the portal switched on and monopolised all of their thoughts.

Yeah, that might be wishful thinking, but stranger things have happened! You never know.

Every 30 seconds, the motor on the ecto-filter whirrs into life, syphoning off the excess, pure ectoplasm from the portal and filtering it into something less volatile. In theory.

Underneath everything, the portal hums.

A droning beat that pulses in the same rhythm as his heart. Sometimes, he catches himself staring at it, leaning closer as it calls to him.

It scares him.

“Shit!” his dad shouts, dropping the soldering iron with a loud clang.

It’s enough to knock Danny out of whatever daydream he’d lost himself in and he whirls around to see his dad sucking on one of his fingers.

They lock eyes, both widening as they realise what’s happened.

“Ah, I mean, suffering spooks! That really hurt…” He shoves his fingers back into his mouth and his shoulders droop as he considers Danny. “Don’t tell your mother.”

Danny laughs.

“Are you alright?”

“It’d take more than that to put Jack Fenton down! All good, Danno, don’t you worry,” he smiles back before shaking his hand out and turning back to whatever he was working on. “Or, I would be, if this hunk of junk was cooperating with me!”

“What’s up?” Danny asks, curiosity getting the better of him.

Normally, he likes to stay out of the lab, as much as he can.

Obviously, what Phantom does doesn’t count. Phantom can’t help but come into the lab, set ghosts loose into the Zone, trash whatever weapons his parents have got going on, sneak out into the Zone when he can for some much needed R&R. The ectoplasm just hits different there.

“I’m trying to repurpose this toaster, but the ecto won’t run smoothly through the wiring. I think it keeps getting cooked by the element.”

“Oh? Do you need some help?”

Danny doesn’t like spending time in the lab, because if he’s in the lab then he’s either Phantom and he’s trying hard not to be seen or heard, or he’s Danny and he’s being punished.

But his curiosity is piqued.

“Yeah, come here, have a look! Perhaps another Fenton brain can knock some sense into it!”

So, he does.

Hell, anything beats cleaning the lab.

“You’re trying to run it through here?”

Dad nods and shifts in his seat to give Danny a better view.

“But you can’t, because the ecto is tripping the heating element… which is way higher than a toaster has any right to be, wow. No wonder it’s destabilising the ectoplasm, that would destabilise anything.”

Danny pokes around the casing, wiggling the wires back and forth to get a better look at the absolute mess his dad has made of it all. Sometimes it amazes him that his parents' inventions work at all.

“That’s what I’m thinking! But it has to be that high so we can completely break down the ecto!”

“You want it to break down?”

“Yep!” Dad says, clapping him on the back hard enough that he wheezes. He grins down at him when Danny turns around reproachfully. “Think of it, boyo, if we could figure out how to flash fry that ectoplasm high enough so that it evaporates—which it should do, it’s goopy gross liquid, after all!—then you wouldn’t be stuck down here cleaning for so long! We could take it to the streets after a ghost fight and clean up the whole town!”

Well, it’s not a Nobel Prize level invention… Danny’s pretty sure at this point that his parents would be laughed out by the Nobel committee. But, a quicker cleaning of the lab does sound nice.

It would mean he’d be stuck down here a lot less.

Besides… It's interesting.

“What if we…” Danny trails off and pulls the metal frame towards him, grabbing the tweezers as he goes. Vaguely, he’s aware of his dad leaning over his shoulder, the weight of him watching is a comforting presence that he’s not felt in a long while.

The real trouble is that you need ectoplasm to affect ectoplasm, and that’s not going to work if the object of the game is to evaporate it.

So what if they don’t introduce the reactive ecto until the end?

He makes quick work of stripping down what his dad’s already done and starts again, this time focussing on keeping the heat contained separately away from the ectoplasm. Just as he’s piecing together a trigger to concurrently shoot a blast of ecto towards the heated tip, Dad exclaims as he realises where he’s going with it.

“Oh! Danny, you’re a genius! Look at that!” Dad laughs and squints closer at what Danny’s doing. “Just wait until your mother sees this, she’s going to be so happy!”

Danny can’t help but grin as he ductapes everything to a piece of toaster casing to give it the first test try. Dad’s enthusiasm is catching as he whoops when the first puddle of ectoplasm burns off in acrid smoke.

They spend another couple of hours perfecting it, welding a case together and branding it with the Fenton F.

It’s not pretty—but then again, when are his parents’ inventions?—a long stick with a cattle-prod-like taser at the end. Instead of electricity, it launches ectoplasm from one rod and superheats the other. When activated, all you need to do is touch the tip to a puddle and poof! It’s gone.

Danny shivers as he watches another pool go up.

But, no! He’s thinking about it wrong. It’s not a cattle-prod, it’s more like one of those sticks you see people using on the highway to jab at the litter on the floor. It’s for cleaning. It’s going to make his lab cleaning chores way easier! It’s—

“Danny, just look at it!”

Danny looks at it, and then back to his father’s face when he can’t bear to see the smoking ecto anymore. It’s painfully happy and Danny does his best to be happy, too.

“Here!” Dad shoves the contraption into Danny’s arms. “You use that and finish what you’re doing and then when you’re done—I can’t believe I’m saying this, galloping ghouls, I’m so happy, I’m working with my boy—we can get to work transferring it over to the Jack o’ Nine Tails! Imagine it, Danny, with one whip and that pesky poltergeist Phantom will be gone!”

Danny freezes.

It feels as if Dad’s just dumped a bucket of ice water over him.

“Poof! Up in smoke!”

The fumes are getting to him. That must be it. His head is swimming and his stomach is churning. There’s a ringing in his ears and it melds with the sharp, stinging whirr of ectoplasm sizzling. It pulses in time with the portal behind him.

He stumbles, almost goes down—almost throws up—but it doesn’t matter. Dad doesn’t see him, already turned away back to the work bench.

It doesn’t matter.

You know what, it’s okay! It’ll be okay, Danny can sneak back down here later tonight and he can undo it all, it doesn’t matter!

Take a deep breath, now, finish cleaning the lab, ignore Dad—it doesn’t matter—and get this over with. Being here makes his skin crawl, he needs to finish—

“I’m so proud of you, Danny.”

For the second time, Danny stops.

Dad doesn’t say anything else, just sits with his back to him, opening and closing his hand over a screwdriver with the Jack o’ Nine Tails splayed out in front of him.

It takes longer than Danny wants to find his voice, but he manages to croak out, “What?”

“I’m proud of you, Danno. I know this year hasn’t been easy for you, don’t think we haven’t noticed. Your mom and I have been talking about how you're doing at school. We're not blind. We know kids can be cruel, and that Dash Baxter… But we're so proud of you for not rising to it. We love you so much, Danny.”

A lump grows in Danny’s throat and his eyes prickle.

His fingers bleach white where they grip the Fenton Evaporator too tight.

“Look at what you can do when you try, Danny! This is the boy that I know, this is the Danny that I love. I’m so proud of what we’ve done here today. It’ll make the world a better place, just you wait! Now, come on, boyo, pass me that soldering iron and let’s really get stuck in!”

And… And Danny does.

With shaky limbs and tears threatening to spill, Danny reaches over and passes Dad the soldering iron, watching as he gets to work, and when his dad asks him to get his hands dirty—“Here, run this wire up the rope, there’s a good boy!”—he does.

Danny does it all and he does it well.

He sucks in a deep breath, swipes a hand over his eyes, and he helps his dad.

He laughs when Dad tells his stupid jokes:

“Quick! What’s red, white, and blue all over?”

“I don’t know, Dad, what’s red, white, and blue all over?”

“A ghost that we’ve beaten into oblivion!”

And he hopes that his mom is going to be just as proud as Dad says she will be when she sees what they’ve done.

It’s easy, really.

If he doesn’t think about it, if he tucks his mind away and just lets his hands get on with it, then he’s just helping his dad and he can do that. He can do it.

He can do it.

So, no, he doesn’t sabotage what they’ve built. He doesn’t add in a failsafe. He doesn’t loosen a few screws, or overload the element, or untwist a few wires.

Danny does his best and at the end of the day his dad holds up the new and improved Jack o’ Nine Tails and absolutely beams at him. A work of art, he calls it.

Danny doesn’t sabotage it then and he won’t sabotage it later, because it’s a work of art. This is what he and his dad built. Together.

Danny can’t help but grin back, happiness curling in his belly even as it gives a sickening lurch.

He doesn’t eat dinner that night, he can’t.

He stays downstairs long enough to present the new weapon to Mom—very pointedly ignoring Jazz’s look—and then he heads upstairs. There’s an English essay he needs to get started on, after all.

He doesn’t miss the look Mom and Dad share, the fond tenderness, the love, the hope, all directed at him.

He’s happy.

They’re happy.

They’re proud of him.

And despite it all, he had fun today!

When he lays down on his bed, he smiles and he can’t stop the laughter bubbling up as he thinks about his dad. At one point, he had been holding up a circular piece of metal he’d cannibalised from the lamp shade to his eyes, moving it back and forth as he pulled his funny faces, and some of that full belly laugh creeps back in as he remembers doing the same back.

He laughs so hard until he cries, and he cries, and he cries.

Today, he and his dad built a weapon.

Tomorrow, it'll be used on him, but that's okay.

It's okay because today, today his dad was proud.

#danny phantom #holiday truce #holiday truce 2023 #jack fenton #angst fic #hope you enjoy!! sorry it's slightly late 😬#and happy holiday truce!!!!

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loislane41319 · 8 months ago

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Scare.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x reader

Wordcount: 795

Summary: Spencer comes home to an empty apartment.

Warnings: Panic attack.

Note: I finally posted again! Thank you for reading this. I greatly appreciate it.

No matter who or where you are or what your going through: you're doing great, even if you're simply surviving. Things will get better.

Story:

Spencer couldn’t wait to come home. He’d had a long day of doing paperwork, attending meetings and getting interrupted before finishing any story he’d started telling. He was tired, everything hurt and all he wanted was you. He just wanted to see your face, hear your voice and feel your touch. He just wanted you.

As he opened the front door, he expected to be met with the smell of food, the sound of your favourite music playing softly in the background and you, moving to the rhythm while cooking dinner. Except he wasn’t.

Instead, he was met with a deafening silence. No food, no music… and no you. “Y/N?” Spencer called your name as he felt his stomach drop. His head started spinning as he checked every room hoping to find you, but fearing the state you might be in. All he found were empty rooms and as the possible explanations for your absence kept getting more and more gruesome, his breathing quickened. Eventually, after checking every room in the apartment thrice, his greatest fear came creeping into his thoughts. What if you had just… left? Why wouldn’t you leave? You were a beautiful girl with the world at your feet. You could do anything, be anything and what did you have to stay for? Him? The too tall, sociably awkward know-it-all with the too long curls, the lanky figure and way too many too long rants? No way.

Suddenly his throat was being squeezed shut. He was all alone in his apartment and he couldn’t even catch a breath. How much more pathetic could he get?

Spencer was so stuck in his head, he didn’t notice the tears running down his cheeks or the door opening.

When you walked into the apartment you found your boyfriend on the ground. Spencer was curled up in a ball, sat against a cupboard, gasping for air. You immediately dropped the bags you were holding and within two steps you were by his side. You sat down next to him, wrapped one arm around his shoulders and grabbed his arm with the other. “Spencer? Breathe, just breathe. Can you do that for me?” You asked him. Spencer shook his head. “Okay, then just try to breathe out longer than you breathe in.” You told your boyfriend. He nodded, closed his eyes and grabbed your hand.

Fifteen minutes both of you sat there. Fifteen minutes Spencer tried as hard as he could to get his breathing under control and after fifteen long minutes, he succeeded.

Your boyfriend was currently curled up against you. His arm was wrapped around your waist and his face was nuzzled into your neck. You just held him while he softly cried into your shoulder. “Spence, can you tell me what happened?” You softly asked him. “I thought you’d left.” He whispered softly, nuzzling deeper into your neck. “I was just getting some groceries. What does that have to do with your panic attack?” You asked him, drawing small circles on his back. “No, I thought you’d left… me,” Spencer then told you, “I- When I came home and you weren’t here… At first I thought something bad had happened, I mean, you’re always here when I come home. But, when I didn’t see any signs of a struggle… all these bad memories came back up and I got overwhelmed.”

“Memories… Like your dad leaving and Gideon leaving and then you just assumed…”

“Yeah. I’m sorry, it sounds ridiculous.”

“Spence, no. Your feelings matter. You get to feel scared and all those people leaving you… that’s traumatising. So it’s not weird or stupid that when you come home to an empty apartment, that isn’t supposed to be empty you get scared. Even if you don’t have to.” You told Spencer. “Thank you.” He whispered. “Spence, you don’t have to thank me. I will always be here. I promise I won’t ever leave you.” You said sincerely. Spencer moved his head from your shoulder and looked you in the eyes. “Why?” He asked you softly. Inside you, your heart broke, but you didn’t let that show. Instead, you answered his question. “Because I love you.” Now Spencers grip on you tightened. His tears started streaming again as he pressed his lips to yours. You poured all the love you felt for the man in front of you into the kissed until you both had to pull back for air. Spencer tried to wipe the tears from his eyes, but they wouldn’t stop. “I-I can’t say it back yet, but I do feel the same way.” He told you, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. “That’s perfectly fine. I can say it enough for the both of us.” You said and kissed him again.

#criminal minds #spencer x reader #spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #mgg #bau #bau team

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psychedelic-ink · 2 years ago

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𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐖𝐄𝐃 𝐔𝐏 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐍𝐓

pairing: max phillips x f!reader

genre: smut, office romance

word count: 5k

summary: a week after walking in on your boyfriend fucking someone else, Max gives you the day off. You leave, unaware that you dropped your watch. Much to your surprise, he brings it to you. Your relationship with him escalates in the following days.

warnings: office sex, rough sex, praise kink, dirty talk, use of 'sir' & 'good girl', piv, dom/sub dynamics, very mild degradation (he calls you his cocksleeve like once), dumbification if you squint, soft!max at times

a/n: I drafted this months ago and only now I finally finished the fic, I have no idea why I waited this long especially since I'd written most of it back then but other wips got in the way--sorry Max lmaodvdf this is my first time writing for you and I hope I did you justice 🖤 I rewatched his scenes and I'm still so horny for this man it's making me look stupid

Max’s office is the nicest one of everyone who works in this building, albeit a bit darker. There’s a succulent on his desk that reminds you of a translucent star and you can’t seem to draw your eyes away from it. His voice is smooth and melodic but you aren’t really listening. Your hand moves over to your watch, feeling the coolness of metal underneath your fingertips. It’s nice.

It’s safe to say that you’re not really paying attention to anything.

Your eyes are wet still, a sting every time you dare to blink. It’s been a week since you found your boyfriend screwing someone else on the couch in the living room. The image still lingers in your head, taunting you.

While you stared, unblinking as they scrambled for their clothes, all you could think of how happy you were that they didn’t use the bedroom.

Now that the relationship is over it’s easier to see the red flags. The way he belittled you, your passions, the things that you enjoyed. Your body, your cooking, anything you did was never enough for him. It was an open invitation to mock you for who you were. And that was the least of it, he never touched you, and you had to beg him for sex— not in the fun kind if you might add. You feel so fucking stupid for trying to make him happy.

“You’re not listening are you?”

You flinch upon hearing the question, eyes finally snapping away from the succulent and turning to Max. You didn’t mean to be so obvious about it. He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. . . Great, another person you couldn’t make happy no matter what you did.

“You’ve been like this all week. Is there something going on? You can take leave if you need to, you’re not really much use like this anyway”

His words sting but you can’t really blame him for it. Though you did find it funny that as an immortal he was so pressed for time.

“Sorry,” you say and he looks at you, really looks at you. Brown eyes move from your eyes to your lips, his own tongue darting out to wet his own. “I’ll do better just some... personal stuff going on,”

“Family?”

“Shitty breakup.”

“Oh.”

Max appreciates bluntness. You figured that one out on your first day here. He isn’t a fan of keeping anything that might affect your work bottled up. He doesn't like the guessing game either. If there’s something wrong he wants to know and if he can he’ll fix it. Not that he can really fix a broken heart.

He suddenly stands up, making his way around the desk. He lends against the edge, hands on his lap. Instictecly you curl your fingers around the armrests. Max is pretty docile for the most part, unless he’s hungry. But the way he’s looking down at you, brows relaxed and a faint smile tugging at his lips, it makes your heart drop. He’s a walking corpse but his eyes are more alive compared to most people you’ve met.

“I’m sure you’ll be happier without commitment wearing you down,” he says, voice dropping, barely above a whisper. You shudder and fail to see the way his fingers twitch. “Don’t think about it, relax, sweetheart.”

And you do. It’s like warm water dancing over your skin. Your shoulders slump, your body limply sinking into the chair. A lazy smile spreads across your lips and he smiles back, teeth winking at you between his plush lips. “That’s it. You’re not feeling anything now, are you?”

You giggle, shaking your head. Even your heartbeat slows, the tips of your fingers tingling with pleasure—

You blink, pinching your brows, you slowly roll your shoulders and hear your bones crack. Max is gazing at you with utmost curiosity, thumbs drumming silently.

Then it hits you. The fucker is using his powers. Fucking vampires.

“Stop it,” you hiss, your body relaxed but mind racing. He rolls his eyes and waves his hand as a sign of dismissal. The tension that had disappeared from your muscles return at full force, and you jolt. “You shouldn’t do that,”

“I was trying to help,” he answers without a care in his tone. He buttons his vest and gestures with his head to the door. “Take the rest of the day off. Sort yourself. See you tomorrow, sweetheart.”

“But—”

“Just go. It’s fine,” when you fail to look convinced, he pouts and draws a cross over his chest. Ironic. “I swear. Now go, take the day off, collect your thoughts or whatever you need to do,”

You leave without pointing out the irony of him making a cross over his non-beating heart. You’ve worked long enough to know that if the boss wants you to take the time off, you take the time off.

Max drags his palm over his face, eyes rolling to the back of his head as he hops off the desk and turns to look at the empty seat you left behind. He’s not sure if he should be condoning this kind of behavior. He doesn’t want people barging in here asking to leave with the most minuscule of problems. But it isn’t typical of you to be distracted so he decided that you earned it.

He’s curious about what kind of man would be stupid enough to leave you, let alone make you look that sad. Not that it’s any of his business.

Max is amidst turning on his heel when he sees it. A small sparkle on the carpeted floor. Cocking an eyebrow, he leans over with his hands in his pockets. A watch?

That’s right you had a watch when you came in, you were playing with it while he was going over the weekly sales. You must’ve dropped it. Looking almost bored, he scoops it off the floor and stares at it. He sees your initials written on the back, a pretty, delicate little accessory.

Surely you would miss it. He knows your address due to dragging your drunk self back home after an office party— so maybe he should bring it to you. Max sighs and flips the watch over. He has time to make a quick stop.

He leaves the office with the watch snug in his pocket. It really isn’t his style to be nice, or remorseful, but he does feel a tad guilty using his powers on you. He genuinely did think he was doing some good. It did look like you were feeling better until you broke out of the trance.

Max steps into the elevator. The tedious music loud and scratching his ears as always.

Taking a day off isn’t going as smoothly as you had hoped.

Initially, you thought you would binge your favorite shows and eat a bucket of ice cream. Instead, you ended up staring blankly at the ceiling, arm dangling out from the side of the bed. It’s a shitty feeling. Your heart feels heavy and uncomfortable. Maybe Max taking away the pain wasn’t so bad after all?

There’s a loud knock on the door and you jump. Every bone in your body aches, your heart beating fast as you head to the living room. You’re praying to every god you know that it’s not your ex. You don’t want to deal with him. Especially not today.

You take a deep, calming, breath. It’s okay. He wouldn’t just show up now, would he? Stupidly enough you don’t look through the peephole before yanking the door open, the person that lurks on the other side takes you by surprise completely.

It’s Max.

What the hell?

“Hiii,” he says with a smug grin. He lifts something to your line of vision and it takes you a moment to recognize your watch. “Found this, thought you might miss it.”

Blinking, you open your palms and he drops it. It feels like a dream. “Uh…thanks,”

“You’re welcome,” he peers over your shoulder, looking into the dimly lit apartment. “So how’s your day off going?”

“Not as fun as I hoped,” you give him a bittersweet smile. His eyes meet yours, and you see your reflection in them, so bright. “Do you want to come inside?”

A shudder climbs your spine when something dark crosses his face, eyes becoming sharper. Your stomach churns and you swallow, fingers tightening around the watch.

“Would love to” he chirps, practically jumping over the threshold. “Thank you for the invite, much obliged.”

“You really can’t come in without being invited?” you ask, closing the door with a push of your heel.

“Nope,” he answers, emphasizing on the p. “Why do you think I left you at the door after the party? You were too drunk to say ‘come in’ I basically had to push you through the door just so you could crawl the rest of the way to your bedroom,”

“I honestly thought you were just being an asshole,”

He scoffs, “I am an asshole. Just not to the people I like,”

He drops down to the couch, which in return makes your stomach sink. You really need to burn it, you don’t think you can have it in your apartment anymore. You sit across from him, placing the watch neatly on top of the coffee table. “I wasn’t aware you liked me,”

“Let’s say tolerate. I like your work ethic.”

“Thank you?” you answer, unsure.

“You’re very much welcome.”

You’re not sure why you invited him inside. He doesn’t drink coffee unless it’s morning, and he doesn’t really like to eat as far as you could tell. The silence is deafening and uncomfortable. You part your lips to ask if he would like tea or anything else but he beats you to it, gaze fixated on you.

“So, how did it happen?”

Your throat goes dry, “What?”

“The break-up,” he shrugs and leans back into the couch, you internally cringe. “Do you want me to break his neck or something?”

“What—No!” you’re horrified but can’t ignore the way warmth blossoms in your chest. You’re highly aware that he’s joking, however, it’s still a nice thought that someone actually cares enough to get pissed about it. “Where did that even come from?”

“I don’t know, I’m not sure I like seeing you so sad. It’s unnerving.”

“Sorry that my misfortune is bothering you,” you answer, crossing your arms. “He cheated on me, and I’m only now realizing how shitty he was.”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah,”

“So I do need to break his neck then?”

You laugh.

You aren’t expecting it, but here you are rubbing tears from your eyes as you laugh with your whole body. There’s just something about the way he said it; as if it was the most normal thing to do. He seems to enjoy the way you laugh. Smiling wide and bright, watching you with fond eyes.

After minutes, your laughter starts to die down, softening into breathless giggles. You’re surprised to find that Max is still smiling at you, no smugness, no cockiness, just an earnest smile.

“Thank I really needed that,” you say, heat building at the base of your spine. “Sorry if I worried you. It’s been a bit rough lately.”

“We can’t all be perfect every second,” he grins, he flattens his palms over his thighs, moving them up and down. Your breath hitches, eyes involuntarily dropping to his crotch. You’re flustered all of a sudden. He tilts his head, tongue poking out of his cheek as he gives you an open-mouthed smirk. “See something you like, sweetheart?”

Your eyes snap to his face, cheeks burning, “Nope. Not—Not at all,”

He leans forward, placing his elbows on his thighs. There’s a table in between but you feel as if he’s a breath away. You swallow, goosebumps rousing over your skin.

“You know I can smell it right?” he purrs. “I can smell the arousal gathering between your legs. I can hear the way your heart is beating… That asshole had no idea how to fuck you properly did he?”

Your pussy bottoms out at his words. You don’t want to give him the satisfaction that he’s right, you don’t want him to know how badly you want him inside. For him to whisper praises into your ear as you squirm around his cock. You lick your lips. He’s not using his powers, you can tell. Yet you still want to blame it on the fact that he’s doing something to make you feel so hot and bothered. But it’s not him, just you.

You’re not sure when you started to have the hots for your boss, but clearly, there was something there. Lurking in the darkness of your mind.

“Look at you,” he coos, eyes raking over your body. “So sweet and afraid. Let me be the first one to say that he didn’t deserve you. Not in the slightest,”

“Max…” you warn.

“Yeah…?” he mimics your tone, smile somehow wider. “Would you want to get coffee before work tomorrow morning?”

The question catches you by surprise. You observe him for a brief moment, he seems dead serious—at least the amount of serious Max Phillips can be.

You nod.

Your first early morning coffee date with Max goes exactly how you expect it to go. You pay for both coffees as a thank you. He found it unnecessary but grumbled a thanks anyway. He talks a lot about work; about sales, about his time in Romania. But mostly work. You do appreciate the distraction though so you don’t complain. You pitch in, telling him ways the company could improve but also adding that you want to quit one day and do something better with your life.

The following mornings follow the same pattern. Mostly conversations about work, and sipping coffee. That is until Tuesday rolls around. It’s an especially cold morning and you find yourself huddling closer to him as the two of you sat on the bench. He doesn’t really seem bothered by the cold, which makes sense since he’s cold-blooded.

Max’s eyes drop to your trembling fingers that were curled helplessly around the coffee cup. You notice his frown, his gaze lifts back up to meet your eyes. “Do you want to go inside?”

“No, I’m good. Besides it’s too early to start working.”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “We do get here early don’t we.”

“I mean…we don’t have to. But I have been enjoying our mornings.”

“So have I,” he chews on his bottom lip, instinctively moving closer to you when he feels a shudder crawling up your spine. “It sucks that I can’t really warm you up—being undead and all— This would be the perfect moment to hold your hands.”

Funnily enough, he does manage to warm you up. You look down at your hands, the cup only half full, you place it to the side. Max truly had been a balm to your broken heart these past couple of days. He never got overly flirtatious again as he did in your apartment, some part of you is disappointed that he didn’t.

“You can—” you lick your lips, the wetness furthering the chill. “You can still do that. If you want to.”

“Yeah?” he moves his jaw, eyes dropping to your lips. “You’ll be colder.”

“I think it might be worth the risk.”

Max brings your hands to his lips, brushing your knuckles and kissing each finger individually. You shudder. He wasn’t wrong, he was awfully cold. But you weren’t wrong either, it’s worth it. Hundred percent. His mouth moves over the back of your hand in the shape of waves, the pit in your stomach rolling, and butterflies fluttering in your chest. His eyes meet yours and you’re mesmerized by him. His eyebrows raise, lips kissing the curve of your wrist, laying a path to the inside, he drags his teeth over the skin right above the vein.

A sudden fear spikes from your feet to your neck. He wouldn’t, would he?

“Are you afraid of me?” the question is whispered with a breath into your skin. Everywhere except the tip of your nose is warm. He looks at you with heavy eyelids, lashes kissing his cheeks every time he blinks.

You don’t have an answer, but you know what he needs to hear.

“I’m not.”

Before you can blink his lips mold into yours. He traces the seam of your mouth with his tongue eagerly, and you part your lips, allowing him to taste and dominate. With both hands he holds your wrists firmly, pulling you close until you’re basically flush against him. Max inhales as he presses deeper, licking the inside of your mouth and swallowing your whines.

He breaks away from you with a smile, you see the flash of fangs.

You gently knock on the already open door. Max is positively exhausted. His eyes snap from his computer to you, he sighs and signals you to enter with two fingers. You close the door when you enter.

“Are we still good for dinner?” you ask, feeling slightly foolish now that you were standing in the middle of his office.

“Sorry baby, not today. These assholes managed to mix everything up, need to fix all that so I’m going to be here late,”

You try very hard not to look disappointed. You already know you failed when you feel your bottom lip starting to quiver. You ball your hands into weak fists, pushing your nails into your skin. He notices, a moment of worry crosses his face.

Tonight wasn’t really a date, or anything important. It was just dinner.

Then why are you so upset?

You neither move away nor lean in as he wraps his arms around you, pulling you into a tight embrace. “What’s wrong?” he murmurs, and you exhale at the way you can feel his chest move underneath you.

“Nothing, just—Don’t worry about it. I’m just being clingy. I know you’re busy,”

“Clingy? Oh, sweetheart,” he rolls his chair back and slaps his thigh. “Come, sit on my lap.”

“Uh…” your eyes flit between his spread legs and his face. “Excuse me?”

“Just get your gorgeous self over here.”

Swallowing, your legs move on their own. Your heart does somersaults in your chest. His smile never falters as you slowly lower yourself down, feeling his frame under you. Your insides clench. Your arms shake. You feel his breath on your neck when he guides your arms around his neck. He presses his lips where your neck and chest meet, heat coils in your stomach.

“Max…”

“You could never be too clingy,” he murmurs. “And even if you were I would love it. I’m actually really happy you came over, I was starting to think this thing between us was going nowhere.”

“You want it…to go somewhere?”

“Of course, I fucking do,” he snaps, looking up, glaring at you. “Do you think I come here that early just to drink coffee—I like spending time with you.”

You feel yourself start to tremble as his hands move up your thighs and cup your ass. He squeezes gently and you gasp, your skin prickling under his touch. His lips move away from your neck, pressing soft kisses up your jaw until he reaches your ear.

"I want to take this further," he whispers, his breath hot against your skin. "I want to fuck you, sweetheart. Bend you over this table and make you scream my name because I’m sure haven’t been screaming anything for a while."

His hands move around your body, tracing the line of your spine and the curves of your hips. His touch is gentle and yet rough at the same time, your heart beats faster with each passing second. You melt into him, wanting more, wanting him.

“I want to feel your wet cunt around my cock,” he groans, dragging his teeth down the column of your neck. His voice drops an octave. “Let me fuck you sweet thing.”

You pause for a moment, and then you nod, your heart pounding in your chest.

"Yes," you whisper. "Yes, I want this too."

Max smiles, a satisfied smirk playing at the corners of his lips, and he pulls you in for a long, deep kiss. He nips at your bottom lip before pulling it and slipping his tongue into your mouth. Pulling you closer—inhaling you—he cups your head from both sides, and groans into your mouth. You feel the growing wetness between your legs, your body having a mind of its own, you grind down on him, shuddering as you feel the hard length under his pants.

“Needy,” he tuts, gripping you by the neck. You hiss when he yanks you back, the rest of your body falling still. “You’ll take what I give you. Is that clear?”

“Yes—” you bite the inside of your cheek. “Yes, sir.”

Your cheeks burn as his eyes widen momentarily. Then he closes them, taking a steady breath, he cocks his head to the side. A soft hum echoes in his throat.

“I like that,” he purrs, opening his eyes. “Say that again.”

“Please, sir.” you choke out.

Max's grip tightens as he bends you over the office table. You gasp, your skin hot as he shoves your pants down to your knees. While you kick them off, you hear a zipper, feel the weight of his cock on the top of your ass. Your face is directly staring at the door— If someone were to waltz in, the first sight to greet them would see you taking your boss’s cock. However, you can hardly care when his warm breath fans your neck, his breathing uneven and rushed.

He slips his hands down and cups your ass, kneading and squeezing as he shoves you further against the cold desk.

"You look so sexy like this," he growls, his cock pushing against your ass as he presses himself against you. His hands move up your body, and he starts tugging at the buttons of your shirt, loosening them one by one. His lips brush against your ear and you shiver in anticipation as his hot breath tickles your skin.

"Say. It."

It’s a threat and some wicked part of you is tempted to exhaust his patience. His hands move down your body, and his fingers start to tease your nipples as he traces circles around them. Then, when you don’t answer, he pinches them harshly.

Your body jerks at the sharp pain, an acute moan rips from your throat.

“Fuck me, sir. Please.”

“You sound so good like this, begging for my cock,” he purrs. “I’m going to go easy on you today sweetheart, but don’t expect me to always be so nice.”

He slides his hands lower, and his fingers slip between your legs, teasing and caressing your wetness. Your eyes roll back as his fingers start to penetrate you, and you grind downs in search of more. Wanting him deeper, wanting more of him.

“So fucking wet,” he coos, he pulls out his fingers, smearing wet streaks across your hips. He nudges his cock between your folds and rocks his hips, the catches against your clit and a loud moan rips from your throat. “That’s my girl, and you thought I didn’t want this. What kind of idiot wouldn’t want this pretty cunt? Hmm?”

“Max, please. . .”

You hear the growl that rattles his chest. Closing his eyes, he cocks his head to the side, tongue tracing the edges of his fangs. “I really love hearing you beg,” he groans. “And the blood rush in your veins.”

Your breath catches in your throat—and in one smooth thrust, he slips inside of you. You clutch the edges of the desk, your eyes rolling back into your skull. Suddenly the rest of the world blurs and it’s just you and him. He stretches you perfectly, his length deep enough to hit all the right spots. His hands smooth a path up your spine. You practically purr at the feeling. You whimper, and when you do, his lips are on your neck in an instant. His body a cool, yet comfortable, blanket on top of you.

“Good girl. Look at you, being so obedient,” he licks the salt off your skin. “You feel so good, baby. The perfect cocksleeve for the boss.”

“Oh god—” you choke out. You have no idea how to respond to that, but your body sure does. Your walls flutter around him, squeezing him tight. His breath hitches. You feel him straighten behind you, his hands press you down from the waist and you can’t help the small squeal that parts your lips.

He’s restraining himself. You can tell by the way his hips twitches, eager to bury more of himself into you. His nails bite into your skin and instinctively you raise your hips. “Maaax,” you moan. “Fuck me, please. I can take it.”

“You can, can’t you?” he mutters, sounding almost impressed. “My perfect girl. You’ll take everything I’ll give you?”

You breathe out, “Yes—”

And he gives you everything.

Every thrust knocks the air from your lungs. Somewhere on the desk your arm hits a stack of papers and they fly everywhere, making a mess on the floor. Max doesn’t stop. He jackhammers into you, splitting you into two. It never felt this intense before. Never. You struggle to breathe and with every snap of his hips, you feel slick dripping down your thighs. Max groans as he wraps his fingers around your neck, pulling you up. Your breasts sway with every stroke, your nipples aching from how hard they are. His one hand remains on your throat as the other moves to your chest, kneading the soft mound in his palm.

“Wouldn’t be fun if someone walked in right now?” he teases, his teeth grazing the shell of your ear. “Seeing you getting absolutely railed—kinda wish I had a mirror so I could see how cock drunk you look, sweetheart.”

Fuck, is all you can think and you desperately want to voice it out, tell him how good it feels. His voice, his breath, his teeth, his cock— But all you can do is whimper helplessly, hoping that the sound is enough to convey how much you’re enjoying this.

“So stupid for me, I love it. You want me to make you come?”

Another whimper. You nod helplessly, forcing yourself back to meet the movement of his hips. He hums as his hand slides between your legs, he draws wet circles around your clit, and your entire body clenches. You can barely hear him from the blood rush in your ears but you think he mumbles ‘oh shit’. Max continues to play with the sensitive bundle of nerves, with fast strokes he mumbles profanities against your skin.

You come with his name on your lips. Your body convulses, muscles clenching and unclenching over and over as you gush all around his cock. It feels never-ending. He grinds his hips, burying himself deeper, throbbing inside. You hiss as your second orgasm washes over you, fluttering and twitching, your body goes limp. You're fairly certain if Max wasn’t holding you up, you’d collapse.

Much to your surprise, Max slowly lays you on top of the desk and the office ceiling comes into view. He’s still pulsing between your legs. He smiles down at you, slides his fingers between your lips—the same fingers he made you come with—and leans in to shove his tongue alongside them. You part your lips wide, the taste of yourself and him making your head spin. You moan around his tongue and fingers. He pulls back with a smile.

“Where do you want me, sweetheart?” he asks, cupping your face with the same hand.

“You can come inside,” you answer in a daze, then quickly add. “You can’t get me pregnant right?”

He shakes his head and you smile, “Go ahead then.”

It doesn’t take him long. He buries his face into the crook of your neck and takes deep inhales of your scent as he spills inside of you. You thread your fingers through his soft locks and gently tug on them. He groans.

“That’s nice,” he hums, pressing his lips over your clavicle. “I wanna spend an eternity between your legs.”

“Should I be scared that you actually can do that?” you say with a soft chuckle, he looks down at you, a mischievous smile tugging at his lips. He wiggles his brows.

“Maybe.”

Max slowly pulls out, and when he stands, he watches the mess pour between your legs. His pupils eat away the color of his eyes and you shudder at how hungry he looks.

Suddenly shy, you avert your gaze as you try to collect yourself, “Sorry about messing up your schedule. I’ll see you later.”

“And where do you think you’re going?”

He grabs your wrists and pulls you into an embrace. You hadn’t realized how tense you were until you feel yourself melting into him.

“Fuck work,” he says, his hand resting over the small of your back. “I’ll get it done later. Let’s go home so I can at least spend tonight between your legs.”

You grin into his chest, happy that he can’t see how ecstatic you look. He probably knows how excited you are anyway.

“Sounds like a plan.”

#max phillips x reader #max phillips x you #max phillips x f!reader #max phillips fanfiction #max phillips x fem!reader #bloodsucking bastards #bloodsucking bastards fic #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal characters

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clockwayswrites · 1 year ago

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A Broken Sort of Normal Part 11

WC 1326, Masterpost CW: anxiety

“Hey, kid,” Flash the older said as he raced up beside Danny.

“Still not a kid, old man,” Danny replied. It was already a well worn argument by this point after several dinners or weekend meals over at the Flash’s household. Sure it was used before that, but once Danny had started seeing Barry out of the mask, he’d only been worse about it. Danny guessed it was their thing now. It was weird to have ‘things’ again with people, but a good sort of weird.

“Still not an old man, kid. I’m not even a grandpa yet!”

Danny almost dropped the tablet he was working on. Barry didn’t have any kids, not aside from Wally who might as well count. Did that mean…?

“I’d tell you to watch your sass in your new position,” Barry continued, unaware or uncaring of Danny’s sudden crisis about the idea of children, “but one, I’d be a hypocrite and two, it’s a solid third of the reason I recommended you.”

“Well, that’s good because the sass isn’t going awa— wait, what new position?”

Barry grinned under his mask in a way that just felt dangerous. Not, like, dangerous in general, but dangerous for Danny who was the focus of that smile. “You’ll see. Flash Two will pick you up Monday at nine am. Don’t worry, you’re cleared off work already.”

“Fla— and he’s gone. That’s great. What the fuck,” Danny said to himself. It was a struggle to focus on finishing up the post event check in and then his reports and then going over his team’s report and then some more paperwork, but Danny managed. As soon as he got home he was immediately was texting Wally.

After the Reveal, Danny had gotten Wally’s civilian number too, but there were strict rules for using that number. Danny understood the caution. Apparently the first number he had been given was encrypted by Batman’s crew, which was crazy to think about, even when he was dating a Flash, so there were less rules other than no civilian names. Just for the ease of it, Danny mostly stuck to the old number unless they were planning a purely civilian date. Or if Danny wanted to say things that he knew would make Wally blush. Things Danny would very much never want anyone else to read. They may have mostly kept to kissing in person, but teasing Wally was just too much fun.

Danny: Why is Big!Flash having you pick me up on Monday??? What did he mean about a ‘new position’?????? I like my job! FLASH!

Quick Boy: You’ve got to give me a second to answer, dude!

Danny: You’re supposed to be fast. 😑

Quick Boy: Who’s always telling me electrical signals can only move so fast?

Danny: FLASH 🤬

Quick Boy: Sorry, babe, I’m not allowed to tell! But you’ll love it! Promise!

Danny: 🥺

Quick Boy: Don’t make those eyes at me! Trust me, babe, just wait until Monday.

Danny: Fine. But know I’m pouting.

Quick Boy: 😭

Danny behaved. He didn’t bother for updates. He sent more cats dressed as Justice League members and finished off the last Percy Jackson book, sending Wally updates along the way. But the whole weekend the fact that he apparently had a new job he knew nothing about and would be taken to Monday churned in the back of his mind.

It made him anxious in a way that he hadn’t been since he left Amity Park for Central city.

He didn’t much like it.

“Please at least tell me that I’m dressed fine for this new job?” Danny asked when he opened the door to Wally’s knock.

He didn’t really have many other options if Wally said no, he already had on his best dark jeans, cleanest boots, and his new cross body bag. He might have a button up shirt he could change into instead of the long sleeve one he was in, but that was as good as it was going to get. He just didn’t have business casual clothes with the jobs he had.

“You look fine,” Wally said.

“Not exactly a supersuit,” Danny said with a sigh, taking in Wally’s uniform.

Wally pressed a quick kiss to Danny’s cheek. “Not the kind of hero you are.”

That was something Wally had been doing, insisting that Danny was a hero. Whenever he protested, it only seemed to make Wally more insistent so Danny mostly let it be. Plus, the cute smile Wally got for ‘winning’ was nice to see.

It was gracing Wally’s lips now as Danny stepped out of his apartment, locked the door, and shoved the keys securely in his bag. One lost set of keys due to super speed was enough to make sure they were safely clipped in from then on.

“Okay. Right, let’s get this over with.”

“It’s a good thing,” Wally insisted as he squatted down for Danny to climb onto his back, “not your execution or anything.”

“I just don’t like not knowing,” Danny said.

“You love surprises.”

“Little surprises like picnics and presents, not life changing ones.”

“You’ll love it,” Wally insisted and then they were off.

“I’ll love an abandoned warehouse?”

“Apparently abandoned warehouse,” Wally stressed with a wave of his hands, like he was a two-bit magician.

“Convincing appearance. Once again, Flash, it’s a good thing you’re a hero because this as serial killer vibes.”

The windows were blacked out. There was a heavy layer of dust on most surfaces. The stairs to the foreman office were long rusted away. It was a mess.

But there was that feeling of being watched that crawled up Danny’s spine. None of the dust actually moved as they crossed the floor over to Barry. And the doors were either welded shut or solidly reinforced.

“Ready kids?” Barry asked.

“Still not kids,” Danny replied almost absently.

“Still don’t care!” Barry pressed one of the bricks on the wall and the whole thing shuddered and pulled back like some massive pocket door to reveal a… a portal behind the wall.

“Ta-da!” Wally said, complete with jazz hands.

Danny couldn’t tear his eyes away from the portal to look at him.

Did they know? Was this…?

“Danny?”

“What?” Danny started, forcing himself to look over at Wally who was beside him again.

“You okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Danny winced. He just couldn’t hold back the twitch of his body at that word. “Sorry. Um, so what is that?”

“A Zeta tube, it’s how we travel to the Justice League. It’s like a transporter,” Barry explained.

Okay, right, not a portal to the Ghost Zone. No one knew. He was safe. Danny closed his eyes. It was just a transporter that looked a lot like a portal.

Wally rested his hand on Danny’s arm and Danny almost jumped from the light touch. “Babe?”

“Um, remember how I told you there was an accident in my parent’s lab when I was a kid? Yeah, um, sorta similar look, is all. It just freaked me out for a moment.”

"Oh, shit, I’m sorry,” Wally said. He squeezed Danny’s arm gently.

“No way you could have known. Who has a phobia over portals, right?” Danny said as he summoned his best attempt at a smile for Wally.

“Are you okay to…” Wally glanced from Danny to the portal nervously.

“I, yes? Can you just explain to me how it will go?” Danny asked. He pressed himself close to Wally, doing what he could to scrape together his frayed nerves. It wasn’t like he hadn’t gone through the actual portal that had killed him all the time. It was just that now all that felt like a lifetime ago, a lifetime no one remembered but him.

“Of course, babe,” Wally said, twining their arms together before he launched into a passionate explanation of the Zeta tubes.

It would be alright.

He could do this.

He had Wally.

-----

AN: Wally and Barry: We have something so cool to show you! Danny: *has portal based ptsd* ._.

I no longer tag people, but you can subscribe to the masterpost!

#dp x dc #quick death #danny fenton/wally west #abson

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fuctacles · 6 months ago

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@steddiesummerexchange for @chaosgremlinmunson | part 1/3 for easier reading on tumblr, but will be posted as a one-shot on Ao3 later | thanks @stevesjockstrap for beta-reading and mental support 💚

The shop was never busy. Aside from Valentine’s Day and Christmas, it was a lot of goofing around and packing online orders. And since it was pouring on a Tuesday afternoon, they expected no customers until closing, which was more than okay with them. They didn't choose it because it was popular. They chose it because their younger friends were too embarrassed to bother them here.

“It’s getting pretty bad,” Steve points out, squinting through the window. “I don’t wanna drive in this weather.”

Robin looks up just in time to catch a flash of lightning splitting the dark clouds outside.

“Maybe it will let up before we close.”

Thunder crackles above them, and Steve raises his eyebrow skeptically.

“We can wait it out in the pizzeria across the street,” she offers then.

“I like the way you think.”

There’s a loud bang as their doors slam open, letting inside some of the summer storm carnage. Despite the size of the shop, they can feel the cold rain on their faces, and for a second, the sound of the storm is deafening. It cuts off as suddenly as it started but is replaced by loud, displeased sounds of two figures drenched to the bone.

“Holy fucking shit!” a wet rat dripping on their floor curses loudly. He shakes his hands creating a small waterfall down the lapels of his leather jacket. The figure next to him drops down the hood of their jacket with a wet smack.

“Holy shitting fuck,” she agrees.

“They better be selling towels here.”

“Uh...” The unhooded figure, a short blonde, looks around curiously. “I’m afraid not.”

This prompts the guy to peel the wet hair away from his face and look properly around.

“Did we just walk into a fucking sex shop?”

“You did, yeah.”

The two turn to the desk when Steve speaks up.

Next to him, Robin flinches, and he senses something weird from her, like a brain equivalent of an exclamation mark. But he doesn’t think much of it, assuming it might simply be a reaction to the pretty girl in front of them.

“We have a radiator in the back, I could take your clothes to dry,” he offers the newcomers.

“No, we—”

“Are you seriously going back out in this weather?” The girl looks at her friend with raised eyebrows. He scoffs.

“No,” he admits petulantly.

“I can make you guys some hot tea. It’s not like anything is happening here anyway,” Robin pipes up.

“That would be great, thanks.” The blonde lights up gratefully, and Robin squirms.

Stave takes it upon himself to gather their wet things, afraid his friend might combust if she comes any closer to the girl. When he’s hanging the clothes, she is uncharacteristically quiet, so he turns to her and cocks his head.

“What’s up?”

She frowns at the mugs she's pulling out.

“Her.”

"Huh? She’s cute, isn’t she?" He grins.

“I think I could hear her,” Robin clarifies.

Steve straightens up immediately and walks towards his friend. She’s looking back up, worrying her bottom lip under her teeth.

“Do you think they are dating?” He motions to the front of the shop where they can hear the other two talk. She looks at the clothes scattered around the backroom. A denim vest, two black jackets, and a hoodie. Judging by the size and style, they all seemed to belong to one person.

“They could be like us,” he points out, but she doesn’t seem convinced. He isn’t either.

“Or she could not know.”

That would complicate things, wouldn’t it?

After exchanging a few heated looks they trail back to the front and Steve hands the teas to their intruders.

"Thank you." The girl smiles sweetly, though her gaze slides towards Robin.

Steve gives his friend a pointed look but she's too dazed to even flip him off.

"Thanks." The guy blows on his tea, keeping his gaze mostly on the window and the storm outside. "We'll take a look around and won't bother you guys," he says, giving his companion a pointed look before disappearing into one of the sections.

Steve knows it’s bad to stereotype but the assortment of strap-ons is not what guys like this usually go for, and his brain gets whiplash with the sudden onslaught of images he's not proud of. The tall guy wearing black and chains getting pegged by his tiny blonde girlfriend? It kind of suits him. He tries not to think about it.

They give them space to roam around the shop and whisper to each other while they finish their duties for the day and start closing up.

"Guys? We need to close in fifteen minutes!" Steve would feel bad for kicking them out into the storm, but the rain clouds have moved, turning the onslaught into a light drizzle.

It's only after they leave that Steve looks at the tattoo on the palm of his hand. Surprised at what he sees, he shakes it experimentally. The d20 lands back on the same number.

“Hey, look.” He holds it up for Robin to see. “I’ve never rolled a twenty before.”

Three days pass and Steve can't stand it anymore.

He slaps his hand on the counter, making Robin yelp.

“You’re thinking about her again!"

“I’m sorry!”

Steve shakes his head.

“No. Don't care, no sorries," he says with finality. “We’re finding her.”

"We go to the same school!" she protests. "I think. I mean, I'll run into her eventually!"

But Steve won't take that chance, tired of all the sighing from her brain, and decides to find the girl they've met. He figures the easiest place to find high schoolers is at the mall so that's where he goes.

With all the groups of friends and couples passing by, he feels even more like a loser than usual, being there all alone. But he's on a mission, so he won't let that deter him.

That is, until one of the faces he sees in the crowd gives him a pause. It takes him an embarrassingly long time to realize what's familiar about one of the three girls coming at him, but when the memory hits, he panics. Letting his flight response take over, he ducks into the nearest open door to avoid his ex.

After making sure the group has passed him without notice, he lets himself breathe. He's taking in the shop he stepped into, a record store full of tapes, vinyls, and band merch, when a voice startles his adrenaline levels back up.

"Well, well, well. How the tables have turned. Running from a gaggle of women, are we?"

Steve turns to find the metalhead who ran into his shop a few days ago, smirking at him.

"Just one." He shakes his head, instinctively looking back behind the glass door. "Really don't feel like running into my ex right now."

"Must be happening a lot, huh?" The man leans on the counter that separates them. "My friend told me you're quite the casanova."

Steve spots his opportunity and grabs it.

"The girl from the other day?" he asks.

"Yes?" The guy's eyes narrow.

“So you guys are friends?” he adds to clarify before he uncrosses his figurative fingers.

“Yes? Why else would we hang out?”

Steve feels his cheeks heat up under the man's suspicious stare.

“Well, you could be dating.”

The guy snorts.

“Yeah, I don't see the local freak bagging the head cheerleader. The fact that she can even stand me is enough.” Then his eyes narrow again. “Why? You interested in Chris?”

Chris.

“No? Well, kinda, but not… exactly.”

Steve has never felt less smooth in his whole life. And judging by the guy's expression, it shows. Whatever he was trying to sell, he wasn’t buying. His brain scrambles to salvage the situation and comes up with a painfully honest solution.

"Look, I just graduated and my friend group has fallen apart." He yells at his brain-to-mouth wires but keeps going anyway. "And you guys seem chill, I thought the four of us could hang out, or something?"

If the 'you suck' board still existed, he'd fill it out with tallies himself.

The man doesn't seem convinced and he opens his mouth to tear him to shreds probably, but then somebody yells from the back of the store:

"Eddie! A little help, please!"

And the guy, Eddie, gets reminded he's at work.

"Coming!" he yells back, and on his way there, throws Steve a quick string of, "Great seeing you again, we'll think about it, we know where to find you, bye!" before disappearing behind the back door.

After such a disastrous interaction, the last thing Steve wants to do is go back out into the mall full of people. But staying here to risk Eddie looking at him like that again was the more humiliating option. He turns around, planning to lick his wounds at home before reporting his findings back to Robin. For the hundredth time since finding her, he wishes they couldn't read each other minds. Because all he can think of is making a complete loser idiot of himself in front of a cool metalhead dude, and he knows she won't let him live it down. Maybe the Scoops board will make a comeback after this.

“Chrissyyyyyy!”

“Eddieeeeee!”

The rest of the cheer squad does perfectly synchronized eye rolls when their captain jumps down the human pyramid to greet her friend.

“Hi!” She smiles brightly. “You’re early. We’re not done yet.”

“I got some news.” He taps his fingers on the small partition between them, ignoring the cheer practice in progress. “Bad ones and good ones.”

“Bad first,” she says with a decisive nod.

Eddie opens his mouth but then frowns and closes it.

“It won’t make sense if you don’t hear the good news first.”

“Oh my god! Just spill it!”

“So, they’re almost surely not dating.”

“The sex shop guys?”

He nods.

“Okay, and the bad one?”

“Steve seems to be into you.”

“No!” she gasps, scandalized. Eddie snickers.

“Yeah. Sorry sweetie." His smile turns more apologetic.

Chrissy makes a face. Then she keeps making faces until Eddie can’t help but snort and slap her playfully.

“Stop! What are you thinking about?”

“I mean he’s kinda cute, but gives me repressed gay vibes.”

Eddie chokes but she keeps going.

“And his friend? His friend is just hot.”

“Ehh, I guess.” Eddie shakes his palm, making his friend roll her eyes.

“You’ll never understand the beauty of a woman in suspenders.”

“More women in suspenders for you then.” He grins, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Chris! You going back or what?” one of the cheerleaders behind them yells out, barely containing her annoyance.

“I’m coming!” Chrissy yells back. She turns to her best friend, her soulmate, with a dazzling smile. “You joining in?”

“You know they hate it when I do,” he points out.

“And you love it that they hate it.” She smirks like the evil little gremlin she secretly is.

“Fuck yeah, I do.” Eddie grins, climbing over the partition to join the cheerleading squad. A couple of girls groan, knowing what’s coming next but none of them dare to protest. If their captain’s soulmate wants to perform a perfect cheer routine, putting their months of practice to shame, there’s nothing they can do except blame the fates.

Eddie drops his leather jacket on the bleachers and does a couple of stretches in perfect sync with his friend. They grin at each other while mirroring each other’s movements without a word.

“If only you could read my mind during math exams like that,” Chrissy teases.

“Okay, shut up.” He rolls his eyes with fake annoyance. Yeah, it would be convenient, but he got a cheerleading routine memorized in his muscles instead. He’d be complaining if Chrissy wasn’t so fun to be around.

Despite his involuntary knowledge of the routine, none of the other girls fully trust him, so he usually ends up working mostly with Chris, tossing her in the air and catching her when needed.

“You should join us for the game,” she asks as always, after jumping down from his arms.

“I’ll think about it,” he answers as always, patting her head. She huffs, swatting his hand away and fixing up her ponytail, now loose from practice.

“Wanna go grab pizza?” she asks casually and he immediately goes into suspish mode. Chrissy rarely proposes eating out together. Don’t get him wrong, it’s great that his girlie is starting to eat better again, but… He doesn’t let his suspicion show when he asks:

“Sure. Any place in mind?”

She hums, but it’s a short hum. Very 'i-already-had-a-place-in-mind' like.

“The one with the Ninja Turtles poster?”

“You mean the one across the adult toys store?” He raises his eyebrows.

She blushes a fierce red and he knows it’s not because of the sex shop thing. He grins, wide and teasing.

“You wanna see that girl again.”

“Maybe,” she huffs defensively. “Okay, yes, so what?”

“So nothing.” He shrugs innocently. “Grab your things and we’ll go.”

“Yes!” she pumps her hands in victory, a dorky move Eddie’s proud to have taught her, and runs off to grab her backpack. She snatches his jacket before he can, overly eager to get moving. “Let’s go!”

He can’t help but laugh while trotting after her towards his van.

The inside of the store is brighter than they remembered, what with the sky being clear this time. It looks surprisingly normal until you take a better look at the contents of the boxes on display. A sex shop during daylight just lacks a certain ambiance.

The preppy-looking guy behind the counter doesn't match the vibe either.

At the sound of customers, the guy looks up.

"Hello! Oh, it's you guys." He visibly relaxes, realizing it's not his usual run-of-the-mill customers.

"It's us indeed." Eddie smiles, confidently strutting up to the counter. "Has anyone ever told you you look out of place here?"

Steve raises an eyebrow.

"Has anyone ever told you not to judge someone's sex life by their looks?"

Eddie raises his hands placatingly.

"Fair enough, man. I'll back off." However, the comment made him insanely curious about what a guy like that would be into. Behind him, Chrissy gently kicks him in the ankle, prompting him to take a look around. "Alone today?" he asks with a curious tilt of his head.

"Yeah, Robin is tutoring after school today. Why?" His eyes narrow.

"No reason, no reason."

Chrissy kicks him harder and he smiles through the pain.

“What is she tutoring in? I’m having trouble passing the last grade.”

It takes Steve a moment to answer, like he's measuring how much information he can give away.

“Foreign languages.”

The words are barely out of his mouth when Eddie snaps his fingers.

“Perfect! Can I get her number or something?”

The kick is so hard this time it jostles him forward and he glares back at his friend. It also attracts Steve’s attention to Chrissy.

He smiles at her, a bit unsure and shy. It rubs Eddie the wrong way and he can feel his hackles rise.

“Chris, right?”

“Chrissy,” she corrects, slightly scrunching her nose.

“Oh, sorry. It’s nice to see you again, Chrissy.” He smiles, more genuine this time.

“Uh, you too. Steve.”

Eddie clears his throat, hoping to come off as rude as possible.

Steve looks back at him and his expression shifts immediately. It’s almost a scoff.

“Listen, I don’t just give off my best friend’s number to random guys. But if you give me yours, I’ll pass it on.”

“Works for me,” Eddie says with the tightest approximation of a smile he can manage. “Do you have something I can write on?”

Steve looks around for the pen and notepad that are never in their designated spots and never together. He finds them under the keyboard.

“Here.”

But Eddie isn’t taking the items from him. Steve wiggles them like he would attract a pet or a child, but it doesn’t work. He’s about to make a snarky remark when the guy speaks up first.

“You have a D20 tattoo.”

“Huh?”

Steve is losing his mind.

But then he remembers that he does indeed have one and it’s partially visible when he’s holding out a pen like that.

“Ah, right.” He opens up his fingers and shakes his palm, causing the dice to roll. “It’s my soulmate mark.”

“Dude, that’s so dope.” Eddie’s eyes sparkle with marvel and Steve’s throat tightens. “You rolled a twenty, does that mean anything?”

Steve shrugs.

“I don’t know. One of my friends is a Dungeons and Dragons nerd and he told me it’s a luck thing? He freaked out pretty badly when I kept rolling ones on vacation, but nothing happened.” He smiles, fondly remembering Dustin’s panic.

Eddie hums.

“Man, having a functional D20 tattoo would be so fucking cool. I’m kinda jealous here.”

Steve snorts.

“Yeah, Dustin told me that too.”

Eddie finally takes the writing utensils from him, eyeing him contemplatively.

“I’m guessing you’re not a DnD nerd yourself? Considering you get your info from a friend?”

Steve chuckles.

"Yeah, no. Though I do get a lot of brain chatter from my soulmate."

"Brain chatter?" Eddie picks on curiously.

"Uh, yeah. I dream up whole campaigns and know lore I've never really studied. The kids go bonkers over it."

"Kids?"

Eddie's feeling both stupid and entranced by the guy.

"The DnD nerd? Dustin?" Steve says with annoyance that poorly covers up his fondness. "He comes with a full set of other nerds. A party, if you will. They just started high school and no, it's not weird that I know them. I used to babysit them and they just kind of..." He waved his hand. "Stuck on. Like parasites.

Eddie barks out a laugh.

"They sound delightful."

"They have their moments," Steve admits. Then they both stare at the number Eddie has scribbled on the piece of paper handed to him.

"So uh, see you around?"

"Yeah." Steve smiles. It's genuine and pleasant this time. But then, to Eddie's chagrin, he looks to the side. "You too Chrissy. Come over anytime. Maybe you need some tutoring too?"

"Uh, thanks, I'm good. Good luck finding a DnD nerd soulmate," she says, her tone weird. Eddie can't blame her. He wouldn't like being so blatantly hit on either. He could already feel her tugging on his jacket.

"Thank you," Steve says, smile turning a bit wistful. His eyes turn back to Eddie, away from his poor, sapphic-leaning soulmate. Good. He waves the note with the numbers. "I'll let her know you're interested but no promises. And hey, if you're into DnD too maybe you'd be interested in DMing for a bunch of freshmen?"

"I'll think about it," Eddie manages, slowly backing away, the force behind Chrissy's pull increasing. "Thanks, man. And, uh, good luck with the soulmate thing too!"

"Thanks."

The doors close in front of him and it feels like a curtain has just separated him from a whimsical spectacle.

"What the fuck was that?" Chrissy and Eddie ask each other in unison, albeit in vastly different tones.

"Huh?" Eddie frowns at his friend. She had already turned around and was pulling him towards the pizzeria across the street.

"Don't huh me! You forgot I was there!"

"I didn't!" He kind of did. For a teeny tiny second.

"You were clearly flirting with him."

"What? No, I wasn't!" he bristles. He'd know if he was flirting with someone.

She looks back at him sternly when they reach a table of her choosing. She plops down heavier than a tiny cheerleader should be able to and takes on a mocking, high voice.

"Oh man, I'm so jealous of your soulmate. Yes, I will play with your kids. Here's my number."

"I said no such thing," he hisses, sitting down across from her.

"Might as well." She shrugs. "You were interested in him."

"Well, he's an interesting person!" Eddie defends.

"Yeah, the preppy, vanilla high school heartthrob that is clearly not into the same stuff as you, other than his connection to his soulmate," she deadpans back. "Wouldn't have guessed."

"Shut up," he huffs, crossing his arms.

"Eddie, he asked you to hang out with his kids, himself," she points out.

"These are not his kids."

"You're so focused on the wrong details here. Do I have to wingman for you as well? Because I will. Just say the word."

Eddie closes his eyes and sighs. He knows his friend means well but it's just too much.

"Chrissy, stop. I don't need someone who has a soulmate with a matching, kick-ass D20 tattoo waiting for him somewhere. Probably a busty, nerdy girl, too—"

"Ew."

"Yeah, I know. He just seems interesting, and honestly? Expanding the party would be cool. So I might take him on the DMing thing I guess. But please, for the love of gods." He makes fierce eye contact with his friend. "No matchmaking. No wingmaning. Or wingwomaning. No setting Eddie up with a probably-heterosexual dude, who is probably into you."

A shudder goes down Chrissy's lithe body.

"Please don't remind me."

"You know what I mean."

"Yeah, I know," she sighs. "I'm really hoping I'm right about his friend." She drums her fingers on the table, biting her lip. "Maybe it's stupid but I feel like it would magically solve everything. He'd get over me, I'd get to bone his friend, and you'd get a new friend with a kick-ass nerd tattoo." She beams at him and he just can't help but laugh at his little ray of sunshine.

"I hope you're right too."

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silassinclair · 8 months ago

Note

Hello there! So this is my first time requesting since i just started following you. So let me tell you, your Yandere Wild West Outlaw got me absolutley smitten and obsessed! i love your writing so much!!

Anyway back to the main subject and on with the request.

What about Maddox with an EXTRA Sassy darling. Like, full of and fluent on sarcasm (the kind that makes you go: DAAAAMN). The darlin' has a sharp tongue and retorts for any kind of bad words might be thrown towards her (and maybe, way later in the relationship, towards Maddox too). From really polite f-u's to tge sthraightfoward ones, she can reply and roast anyone.

Oh and a bonus head cannon (a little something that came to mind) after reading about the wedding rings. I can totally imagine the darling going from questioning about where Maddox "buys" all the weird gifts to just becoming immune, later in the relationship. Let's say Maddox comes back (to the temporary) home with a very strange object, like A very expensive porcelain/china vase and the darling just goes: "oh thank you. Please put it on the table. I'll be done with the soup and then take care of it"

Yea anyway i'll stop rambling now.

Sorry for the bad english. It's not my first language and it is past midnight here.

Have a great day/night ✨

We love sassy girlboss Y/n’s here. Thank you for submitting this request anon!! Hope it is to your liking <3

Yandere Wild West Outlaw x Sassy Reader

CW// Y/n is a bully, Maddox gets his ego hurt, Maddox gets angry, Maddox is dumb

Masterlist

Maddox immediately knew that you were a spitfire when he first had a conversation with you. You weren’t the typical damsel in distress who when captured by the evil outlaw you’re forced into submission.

Oh no. There’s not a drop of submission in your body.

Maddox thought you would be useful to have around. You’d be his own personal maid! Maybe even like a housewife. But no…

“Clean my laundry if ya’ wanna live to see anotha’ day.”

“Alright alright, calm your tits. What should I clean first? The shirt with sweat marinated into the fabric or the undies with shit stains?”

“THERE AIN’T ANY SHIT ON MY UNDIES MISSY! IT’S DIRT!”

You’re a total pain in the ass. Whenever he tried to act cool or intimidating you’d immediately shoot it down with your words.

He hates it when you ruin his moment in front of other people.

He got really pissed after you made a jab at him in the middle of a duel.

“It’s just you an’ me boy. But we both know who’ll be standin’ by the end of this.”

“Hopefully it isn’t you.”

“SHUT UP Y/N! GET YOUR TUSH BACK INSIDE, I’M TRYNA’ HAVE A DUEL!”

Punishes you by tying you up and leaving you outside for the night.

He ignores your complaints about coyotes or rattlesnakes. He needs you to shut your mouth and give him some peace.

After that night of punishment though he noticed how you wouldn’t really talk to him often.

“Go shine my boots. And I don’t wanna hear a single complaint outta ya’.”

“Okay.”

“…”

Okaay so he fucked up.

The days drag on so slow without your quips and jabs! He never realized how funny the things you said are now that you’re gone.

Well you’re not gone, just more closed off now. But you may as well be gone. This isn’t like you at all to be so quiet and reclusive!

Maybe he was too rough in you? He did kill your Father and force you to be his housewife maid.

So doing what he does worst, he apologizes.

“Hey, ‘bout that one time I left ya’ outside. I realize that was silly of me cus ya’ coulda gotten eaten. So that was my bad.”

“So you’re sorry?”

“Yeah.”

He’s brushing Jasper’s fur, telling the horse how good he is. Cleaning Jasper is the only chore Maddox likes to do himself.

You’re sitting on a tree stump watching the man talk to his horse.

“You know Jasper’s a horse right?”

“Oh really? I thought he was a dog.”

The small smirk on your face after his little quip made Maddox feel like a million bucks.

That’s when he learned that he likes seeing you happy.

After the “Marriage”: (Read about it Here)

“Uhm what’s all this?” You ask your unofficial husband.

“This-”

He puts a brown sack down on the table. The sound of the contents inside clang together as he dumps it all out. A dozen chipped fine china plates come out.

“Is how we make our house a home sweetness. I hear housewives go crazy over fancy dishes n’ shit.”

Maddox stands there with a proud grin underneath his masked face. (He still hasn’t showed you his face yet btw.) He was like a dog showing his owner how good he is at retrieving sticks when playing fetch.

You look at him with an unimpressed quirk of your brow. “And where did you happen to come across such fine china may I ask?”

He shrugs and comes around the table to wrap his arms around you from behind.

“A buddy gave em to me.” His deep voice reverberates in your ear.

“Did you hold your so called buddy at gunpoint?”

“Would you be mad if I said yes?”

You groan and shakes your head back and forth. “Maddox you know you can’t just go around taking people’s stuff! Now the sheriff was probably alerted and is looking for you now. And why did you steal a bunch of plates!? Jasper can’t carry all this shit! We should only have what is necessary for survival you brute. Are you even listening to me!?”

But he only looks at you with lovesick eyes as you complain about how stupid he is.

“Princess did I ever tell you how sexy you are when you’re mad at me?” His hands go lower down your waist.

Rolling your eyes you smack his hands and leave his embrace, leaving him standing by himself like a kicked puppy.

“I have a meal to make so set the table with those plates you got. And no more stealing people’s things!”

“Yes ma’am.”

I appreciate all the requests that come in!! But I just want to remind all of you about my rules and that I do NOT write Y/n as a specific race. My writing is for everybody to enjoy!! She’s race ambiguous. Many people request that I write a Black Y/n but I’m not black so I won’t be doing that. If I write for a specific race then I feel like I’d just be stereotyping what black people are supposed to act like. So please don’t ask me to write for a Y/n that is a specific race. Thank you.

#yandere #yandere x reader #x reader #yandere imagines #yandere x you #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #obsession #western #cowboy #maddox graves

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carmyberzattosjournal · 2 months ago

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Words (Redux)

Summary: Carmy needs to find his damned words to ask his girlfriend to choke him.

Warnings: light bondage, swearing, Carmy x reader/generic lass (leave me alone), she/her pronouns, sub!Carmy, breathplay, light smut

Notes: This is NOT a journal entry. All journal entries are titled as such and tagged with #cb journal.

THIS IS AN EDIT of a previous Carmy x Claire work, by request. You are free to make requests; just know that because I have limited time and other things going on, I might not be able to field them. You will be made aware of this, should you submit one.

Original here.

05 Oct 2024

You know what would be great? Words.

Fucking words. Just the ability to use them, ever, when he wants to, ever. Pissed off at someone? Fire some words at them to get them to leave him alone. Find Chef Asshole from Empire at the funeral dinner? Words. Fuck his life, that would’ve gone so much better if he had any fucking words when he needed them. His girlfriend riding him and him getting the urge to feel pressure on his throat? Words. He needs fucking words.

Pictures is how he thinks. Like the pinstripes of blinding white light from the streetlamp outside undulating with her form as she threw her head back and rolled her hips? It sears into his memory. Plants so deep in his head that he could draw it in his sleep. The way her tits bounce, her mouth curves into her amused grin when he pulls against the ties affixing his wrists to the headboard? Blackened as an imprint on his gray matter. But he can’t get words out to tell her that he needs her hands on his throat.

“What is it, baby?” she whispers. Trails her hands over his abs. “Oh, did those pesky words go away again?”

His face floods with warmth.

“Aw, you’re all flustered again,” she coos. She bounces faster, giggles at his string of swears.

He throws his head back and bares his throat, hoping she can do that little magic trick where she reads his mind. If she can read him, she isn’t telling him or giving in. He’s going to have to find those damned words.

He manages her name. That’s something.

“Yes, baby? I’m listening.”

All the while, she hasn’t slowed her movements. She even squeezes her cunt around his dick when he doesn’t answer, and he whines high in his throat. This pitiful, miserable sound that makes his face flush hot.

“Baby… baby girl, please…”

“Please, what, Bear? I’m not sure what that means.” She touches herself as she rides him, planting a hand on his abdomen for leverage and balance. “Fuck… Come on, honey. Use your words.”

From the tone of her voice, he knows she’s aware. She can read him like he’s made of glass, this woman, but she gets off on turning him into a mess. When she drags her wide-open hand up to his sternum, rests her thumb and her fingers on either side of his collarbone, tugs at his chain, she confirms it; she knows exactly what he wants, but she’s going to make him say it.

“You-you know. Baby, please, I’m close…”

“Easy…” She pets his face to soothe him, traces her thumb over his parted lips. “Can you try to say what you want? Be a good boy and try for me?”

He tugs against the ties. His head lands back on the pillow. His eyes squeeze shut as he tries to get his mouth to form the words he needs. She leans down, nibbles his lower lip, traces her thumb over his Adam’s apple.

“It’s okay,” she whispers. “It’s just me, baby. It’s safe.”

Her voice is strained. She’s as much as mess as he is.

“Ch-choke me?” He mouths it more than he whispers it. “Please? Please, baby?”

She blankets her hand over his throat and presses her fingers into his pulses, causing blood to pool in his head.

“Like this?”

“Yesss…” he hisses.

His eyes roll back, and his mouth drops open in a silent moan as she continues to rut against him. She can’t help but delve her tongue into his mouth at the opportunity, and he responds by bucking in time with her movements. She jolts and swears when her orgasm hits her, is forced to slow down to ride it out, which causes Carmy to whimper something pathetic. It’s catastrophic, how mad he’s driven by her slowing down. He tugs harder against the ties on his wrists, begins unleashing a string of swears until he feels her pick up the pace again and feels the pressure on his throat triple, crushing the air right out of his larynx. He goes lightheaded. Can’t keep his eyes open.

His orgasm hits him like a bolt of lightning, setting his body ablaze with white hot pleasure. His abdomen burns hot from spasming, a line of blissful warmth crawls up his spine only to turn into merciful coolness behind his shoulder blades. His head swims like he’s on a turbulent airplane when she releases his throat and peppers the reddened marks on his neck with wet kisses. She hunts along his jaw, his chin, eventually lands on his mouth. Occupies him with that while she unties his wrists and lets his arms down slowly, rubbing the bundles of taut muscle spanning his neck and shoulders. He cages her in an embrace, pressing the full length of his forearms into her back.

“Th-thank you,” he croaks.

“I’m proud of you for telling me what you wanted, Carm,” she mumbles.

“We’ll have to do that again.”

She giggles. “Noted.”

#carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto fanfiction #carmy berzatto fanfiction #carmy x reader #carmen berzatto smut #carmy berzatto smut #carmy smut #two from me in one day what a surprise indeed

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elyvorg · 10 months ago

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Kieran Part 2: It’s All About YOU

Well, looks like The Indigo Disk didn’t remotely drop the ball – it caught it in incredible style! Pokémon’s best character-writing job yet has been followed up and capped off with, if anything, something even better. Kieran is far and away the most complex and well-written character that mainline Pokémon has ever achieved, and I am here to talk about the second half of why this is, in very great detail. Consider me just, blown away. I have So Many Feelings about this boy.

This is of course a follow-up to my earlier analysis post about Kieran’s character and arc during The Teal Mask, which you can find here. Reading that before this is recommended!

(This will contain a couple of brief references to some post-epilogue lines, so if you haven’t got to that stuff yet and you really care about seeing it completely fresh, you might want to hold off on reading this for now. But there’s no actual spoilers for the epilogue itself in here, because, whoops, I think I’m gonna have to cover all of that in yet another post of its own.)

(Like last time, I will be largely referring to the player character as “you” for convenience, although I may shift into third person occasionally when I’m talking about the vague implications of a personality that they are given, since that’s a little more relevant this time.)

The gaping pit of inferiority

First, though, before getting into The Indigo Disk, I want to re-establish where Kieran’s character ended up at the end of Teal Mask, now that I have a clearer idea of exactly how that relates to where things are headed.

Kieran was always gripped by an aching inferiority complex, one too huge and unbearable for him to ever face directly. Prior to Teal Mask, he’d coped with that by clinging to the figure of the ogre as an ideal of strength. He imagined that maybe one day if he managed to grow strong enough to be just like it, the ogre would acknowledge him and be his friend – and that would finally mean that he mattered and he really was strong after all. He finally wouldn’t have to deal with the crushing pain of his inferiority complex any more.

But then, of course, you swept in with your amazingly perfect protagonist strength, ripping away Kieran’s chance of ever befriending Ogerpon and doing so in the most tragically agonising way possible that only seemed to validate and hammer home to him just how hopelessly weak he really is. Left with nothing but an even bigger gaping pit of inferiority inside him, and no longer able to cling to the idea of Ogerpon as a way for him to one day escape it, the only thing Kieran could do in order to cope was find something else to latch onto: you.

You became a greater ideal of strength to Kieran than even Ogerpon ever was during the events of Teal Mask, so now he’s hung everything on the thought of making himself strong enough to prove he’s just as good as you. If he can become strong enough to beat you, surely that of all things will be enough to prove that he matters and isn’t weak at all. It’s the only thing he can conceive of that might just free him from the grip of his terrifyingly massive inferiority complex, and he’s clinging onto it for dear life, striving for it to the point of obsession.

I saw a lot of people talk in the lead-up to this DLC like it was going to be about Kieran wanting revenge on you, but that’s not remotely it. He isn’t even able to comprehend the idea that anything you did to him could be considered wrong in the first place; that’s just how things were meant to go when you’re strong and he’s weak, right? Even though it was you who took everything away from him and made him feel so crushingly inferior, that pales in his mind next to how incredibly strong you are and how badly he needs to be like that himself. This isn’t even about him getting another shot at winning over Ogerpon, either – as much as you having become her trainer is a huge source of pain and jealousy for him, he seems to have pretty much accepted that there’s no changing that now.

What Kieran actually, consciously wants out of all this is… well, it’s extremely vague and nebulous, but that’s precisely the point, because there is no rationality involved in any of it. What is he really hoping to gain from it, when (if) he beats you? For you to decide to be his friend after all? For him to instantly become happy and finally feel strong? For him to magically turn into you and have all the good things you have that he envies about you? Obviously none of those things would necessarily happen, but Kieran is not consciously thinking any of this through to its logical endpoint. He’s not actually hoping to get a specific Thing out of beating you – he just desperately, indescribably feels like he needs to beat you, more than anything else in the world.

What Kieran really needs out of this deep down is for you, this person he’s warped himself into idolising as the Strongest Most Perfect Person Ever, to acknowledge him and his strength. It’s just like he wanted Ogerpon to acknowledge him before, shifted onto a new target of idolisation and grown far more desperately obsessive. If you of all people acknowledged him, then just maybe it might actually be true that he really is strong and worth something after all. At its most fundamental level, Kieran has always just deeply needed to gain a sense of self-worth, and yet his self-esteem is so horribly low that he’s basically incapable of doing so on his own without outside validation. But I really don’t think he’s aware on a conscious level that this is what he needs and what he’s striving to get out of all this.

(And of course there’s no way you’d ever acknowledge him and his worth as a person anyway, right? He thought you’d maybe done that when you called him a friend back in Kitakami, but any fleeting hope of gaining self-worth that way evaporated when you went and lied to him, validating his fears that obviously you’d couldn’t possibly have meant it. After all, why would someone as strong as you ever want to be friends with someone weak like him? The only way you’d ever possibly acknowledge his worth is if he conclusively proved that he’s even stronger than you, by defeating you in battle.)

Blueberry Academy

The other thing I want to do before getting into the events of The Indigo Disk itself is to re-evaluate a few assumptions I made about Blueberry Academy in the previous post, now that we’ve actually seen it for ourselves.

I was assuming that a significant part of the reason for Kieran’s inferiority complex was due to him being bullied at Blueberry, but… there’s absolutely zero indication from any of the NPC dialogue that any such thing happened. If the writers wanted this to be a fact that was relevant to Kieran’s character, they absolutely would have put something in. However, in hindsight, I realise that maybe I was primed to assume a bullying problem at Blueberry due to the Team Star storyline, when actually, Kieran being bullied there doesn’t necessarily fit. His issues about being shunned and his paranoia that people are laughing at him behind his back are so ingrained that they have to have originated from quite a while ago in his childhood – and he’s only a first-year at Blueberry.

So, scratch that part of the previous post: Kieran was not bullied at Blueberry Academy, but he was almost certainly bullied earlier on in his childhood, at whatever school(s) he attended beforehand. It wouldn’t necessarily have needed to be a really overt, physical kind of bullying either – that’s the sort of thing that Carmine would certainly have noticed and protected him from. But even something more low-key like being constantly left out of things and looked down on by others would have left a huge psychological mark on him, and would have probably been too subtle for his socially oblivious sister to do much about. (Or, in some ways, she might just have made such things worse by being so fiercely overprotective of him. Most people wouldn’t want to go near the kid with the Scary Big Sister who’ll bite their head off if they so much as look at him wrong.)

Bullying aside, I was looking for any kind of clues at all from the NPCs as to what Kieran was like at Blueberry Academy before his big change… and there’s almost nothing. Plenty of people comment on Kieran now, because everyone knows who he is as the Champion, but nobody shows surprise that it was this timid kid who rose up and beat Drayton. It seems that as far as most of the students are concerned, he just came out of nowhere. But maybe that’s the point; maybe almost nobody ever even noticed him or thought anything of him at all until he grew stronger. By the time he joined Blueberry Academy, Kieran’s default coping mechanism must have been to make himself as small and invisible as possible, so that basically nobody even really thought twice about him.

Only two whole NPCs actually make any kind of reference to what Kieran was like before he became Champion. (Well, other than Carmine, of course, and also discounting Amarys because she’d have only known Kieran through her friendship with his sister.) One of them is Drayton, who’d noticed him as the incredibly shy kid who nonetheless lit up with joy more than anyone else when watching battles. And then there is one random NPC you can find in the Central Plaza who comments on how Kieran has turned into a completely different person. That’s it. Only two people happened to have noticed this timid kid enough to realise he’s the same guy who suddenly became Champion. (And, while they both seem at least a little concerned, neither of them appear to have outright considered Kieran a friend, because of course not. You really were the first friend he’d ever managed to make, until everything went horribly wrong.)

One thing I was expecting to get from the vibe at Blueberry that it absolutely did deliver, mind you, was the culture around battling. There’s all sorts of talk about battling and getting stronger, double battles as standard to make things more strategic, and even the random NPC trainers can actually be kind of challenging. So I was definitely right that this culture must have contributed to Kieran fixating on getting stronger and proving himself to you through gaining more battling strength in particular. One NPC near the entrance also remarks that “you don’t look strong”, as if people here assume battling strength to be correlated with physical appearance, which… yeah, that explains a bit about why Kieran felt he needed to look different alongside becoming stronger in battle, doesn’t it.

Changing himself

Of course, Kieran’s reasons for changing up his appearance go much deeper than just wanting to superficially “look stronger”. In order to achieve the nigh-impossible feat of managing to match you in strength, he felt like he had to become nothing short of a completely different person. He can’t be anything like that timid, weak, pathetic kid from Kitakami who got walked all over, because there’s no way that kid would ever, ever be able to beat you.

Which means that absolutely everything about who he used to be needed to get thrown away. That hairstyle that practically covered his face and let him hide himself behind it? Gone. His country accent and way of talking due to being raised in Kitakami? That always made him feel different and outcast among the students at Blueberry already, but more than that, it’s a distinctive feature of that kid he used to be and cannot be any more, so he had to cast it away and learn to mask it. Even the unambiguously good parts of him – the way he’d always get so excited and passionate over things he finds cool! – they’re a part of his old self, so they had to go, no exceptions. Far be it from him to ever say “wowzers” any more, for more than one reason. His old hairstyle may have been the one that visually resembled a mask, but now he’s putting on much more of a metaphorical mask than he ever was before. (Putting on a mask to become stronger and hide his reasons to be cast out and shunned – a bit like a certain ogre.)

(And since Kieran’s just on the cusp of puberty, I find it fun to imagine that maybe his voice happened to start breaking in the interim between the two DLCs, so that he doesn’t just talk differently and mask his accent, his voice literally sounds different now compared to how it did before.)

Unfortunately for Kieran, no amount of fervently doing everything in his power to change and grow stronger can make his growth spurt come any sooner. It seems it hasn’t happened quite yet, leaving him awkwardly still the smallest person in the room even as he is trying to project an air of being Strong and Tough now. He gets around this as best he can by adopting a mannerism of taking a step back from people, to give him less of an angle to look up at, and tilting his head far enough back that he can kinda sorta still be looking down on them, in a sense. He is so desperate to not feel small any more.

(Fittingly – or ironically, perhaps – you are the one relevant person who is the same height as Kieran and can face him eye-to-eye. That’s bound to be feeding into his complex about you: all the other people he looked up to and saw as stronger than him were older than him and so they had a good reason to be that strong – but you and he are the same age. You should be his equal, and yet you can already do and have all these things that he could only dream of.)

And his timid demeanour isn’t the only thing from before that Kieran cast away – he also got rid of almost his entire team of Pokémon from those battles back in Kitakami. Nearly all of them went the same way as poor Furret and Cramorant before them, because they weren’t strong enough to win him that vital battle that would definitely have decided who got to become Ogerpon’s partner (right?), so there’s no way they’d ever be able to help him beat you now. The only exception to this is Dipplin, perhaps precisely because Kieran knew it was capable of evolving again and so still had more strength it had yet to show him. The rest of his team got completely overhauled, no doubt informed by his fervent studies in battling strategies to let him put together the strongest and most optimal team he could come up with.

I nearly had a whole spiel here about how excruciating it is that his new team has a Politoed, in that he could almost have kept another of his old partners from his Kitakami team if he hadn’t hastily evolved Poliwhirl into the less strategically-optimal evolution as part of his efforts to prove himself to you during Teal Mask. Except, actually, a postgame line implies that Kieran’s Politoed is also a longtime partner of his, along with his Poliwrath, like they’re a pair. So it’s not that he went and caught a “replacement” Poliwag that he was less attached to – apparently he always had two Poliwag friends from the start and just only ever trained up one of them to use against you in Teal Mask. Then, when that one had failed to be good enough for him, it was the other one’s turn to prove how strong it could really be.

As for his other new team members: Porygon-Z and Incineroar are both available in the Terarium, but Grimmsnarl is only available, to Kieran at least, in Kitakami. So that must be another one he’d caught during the school trip, maybe a candidate he’d considered training up back then but never quite had the time to alongside the rest of his team. And then there’s Dragonite, which is an interesting one, because the Dratini line is nowhere in either Kitakami or the Terarium – meaning, Kieran must have gone out of his way to trade for it in order to get one. Perhaps he was really impressed by the strength of Drayton’s Dragonite and wanted one of his own to match that? (but his has a very different build to Drayton’s, so it’s fine, he’s definitely not just copying Drayton in order to win, okay.) I like to think that maybe he got it from Carmine, who’d apparently been visiting loads of other regions with Briar during Kieran’s obsessive training arc and therefore could have been in a position to catch a Dratini.

More importantly than just catching these new Pokémon, though, would have been training them, which Kieran threw himself into so obsessively that it and studying battling strategies now consume every single moment he has, to a concerningly unhealthy degree. He’s cutting back on sleep, barely eating proper meals, because spending any more time than necessary on even things like basic physical needs is not acceptable to him. You are so overwhelmingly, impossibly strong in his mind that, in order to match your strength, Kieran feels like he has to give everything, no matter the cost to himself.

Being Champion

And, well, his fervent desperate self-destructive training did indeed make him strong enough to become Champion of the BB League. It’s only a stepping stone, a means to an end for his ultimate goal of being strong enough to beat you – but it’s something. As Champion, Kieran’s known to everyone in the school, getting awed murmurs wherever he shows up. People respect him now, because he’s proven that he's strong. (The very converse of how everyone ignored and shunned him back when he was weak. That’s how it goes, right?) And on top of that, he’s earned himself a position of authority over everyone in the League Club.

…Frankly, it’s a very stupid rule the club has to make the Champion be automatically in charge of the whole thing, precisely because of situations like this, in which the trainer who happens to be strongest also happens to be someone nobody else wants bossing them around. But thanks to that stupid rule existing, Kieran’s in charge now, and everyone else has to do what he says whether they like it or not, because he’s the strongest of all of them. Way to validate and perpetuate Kieran’s toxic worldview that having strength (battling strength) means you get to call the shots and walk all over anybody who’s weaker than you, and that’s just how things work.

Our first glimpse of how drastically Kieran’s changed, the interaction we see him having with that one poor club member, is bound to be the epitome of how he’s been treating everyone in the club these days. And he is not simply being a dick for the hell of it just because he can now and he’s turned Edgy or whatever – everything about his behaviour here is agonisingly rooted in his own deeply ingrained worldview about strength and weakness.

It's so tragically telling how he phrases his scathing disapproval of the poor guy as, “So that means you’re just OK being this weak forever? That what I’m hearing?” That’s not at all what the guy was saying, but Kieran hears it that way because he can’t help but see his own former, weaker self everywhere he looks. At the end of Teal Mask, he was trapped in that horrible pit of feeling like there was nothing he could do except be this weak forever, unless he devoted himself obsessively to becoming stronger and stronger and stronger with everything he had. Any tiny sign of weakness in anybody else reminds him of that place, reminds him that the only reason he’s not trapped there himself right now is because he’s spending every waking moment trying to claw his way out.

The guy’s reason for not completing Kieran’s training assignment wasn’t even that he didn’t want to do it. He said he’d had hectic stuff going on at home that meant he didn’t have time, which ought to be a perfectly reasonable excuse! But… not to Kieran, it isn’t. Kieran has sacrificed everything to become as strong as he is, even basic physical self-care; he would have chosen training over busy home-life stuff in a heartbeat. Anyone who isn’t willing to do the same, anyone to whom growing stronger isn’t the most important thing in the world – they’re not good enough. They must obviously just want to stay weak forever, like Kieran himself absolutely could not bear to be. So he kicks the poor guy out of the club, thus dooming him, in Kieran’s view, to really being stuck this weak forever with no chance to improve.

It's bound to be just like this for everyone else in the club, too, based on plenty of comments we hear about how Kieran becoming Champion has taken the fun out of everything, and the ridiculously strict rules he’s apparently put in place. He’s projecting his own unhealthily high standards of strength onto everyone else, then shunning them if they don’t manage to live up to that, because that’s just what happens to people who are weak, right? It is agonising to watch Kieran perpetuating the exact same toxicity that he used to always feel like he was on the receiving end of, especially as that isn’t even really why he was ever treated that way.

None of this is the behaviour of someone who is even remotely secure and confident in their strength. Despite being Champion and having the respect of the entire school, Kieran is still constantly terrified that even the slightest thing, even so much as allowing a tiny instance of “weakness” in anyone associated with him, will cause all of the strength he’s worked so hard to build to come crashing down in an instant. (One detail I really love about the scene where he’s telling that one guy off is the way Kieran’s tapping his foot at the beginning. He probably means it as a way to express impatience, but really it comes across as incredibly anxious and insecure. The animators did some excellent stuff with Kieran in this DLC.)

And what’s extra heartbreaking is that Kieran doesn’t need to be doing any of this. He’s the Champion now; he is undeniably strong; he’s able to talk to others; people notice and respect him. He is already in a position to reach out and grasp everything he’s ever wanted: acknowledgement, friendship, fun. He used to love battling – he’s supposed to love battling – so he could be having a great time with all this! If he just dropped this toxic mindset and stopped letting it turn him into a massive jerk, he could make friends with the Elite Four and others in the League Club and not be alone any more!

But he’s not able to see any of that. None of the things he’s already genuinely gained for himself truly feel like they matter, not when they’re all just a means to an end for the one thing that does – proving he can beat you. By desperately hanging his entire self-worth on the idea of becoming strong enough to measure up to you and nobody else, Kieran has blinded himself to the fact that he’s already found a good amount of what he’d always truly wanted in the first place. And it also means that, if he can’t beat you when that day comes, everything he’s done will be for nothing.

Drayton and Carmine

But although nobody is happy with the way things are now (least of all Kieran himself), it seems only a couple of people have been willing to question Kieran’s “authority” enough to try and talk him out of this.

One of them is Drayton, who’s doing this not just out of wanting his club to go back to normal, but also because he’s the almost-only person to have noticed the timid yet battle-loving kid Kieran used to be, and he genuinely wants to help Kieran remember how to have fun like that again. Unfortunately, it seems that any of Drayton’s attempts to tell him this bounced right off Kieran, because fun and excitement were a part of that weak kid he used to be and absolutely cannot be any more.

Plus, with his newfound authority and validation of his toxic worldview, Kieran would easily be able to brush off anything Drayton said to him with the excuse that he doesn’t have to listen to someone who can’t beat him. He actually mentions at one point that Drayton “always loses” to him, implying they’ve battled more than once. Apparently, in an attempt to get Kieran to listen, Drayton actually went and challenged him to a rematch at some point, or maybe even several – a remarkable amount of effort, coming from Drayton – but he still couldn’t win.

(Kieran is bound to be super jealous of the way Drayton appears so effortless in his strength, when Kieran himself had to train and strive so hard to reach this level. But on the flip side, now that Kieran is the stronger one, he can use Drayton’s laziness as another way to paint himself as superior. Obviously the reason Drayton keeps losing to him is because he doesn’t train nearly as hard as Kieran does.)

It also doesn’t help that Drayton’s attitude towards Kieran when he’s not specifically trying to encourage him to have fun again is very sarcastic and condescending, drawing from his deep frustration at Kieran’s attitude. It must be very easy for Kieran to completely overlook the part where Drayton is actually doing this because he cares – he probably feels that Drayton just hates him and wants him gone. (Just like everyone who’d always shun him and treat him like an outcast before, right.)

Then there’s Carmine, who’s been incredibly worried about the change in her brother and is bound to have done her fair share of trying to talk him out of this too, evidently also to no effect. It’s certainly easy for Kieran to remain oblivious to the fact that she’s doing this because she cares about him and isn’t just trying to bring him down, since she has, uh, historically not been very good at showing that.

It seems that Kieran has largely been avoiding Carmine since he overhauled everything about himself. No doubt a lot of that is because, what with her being part of the reason for his inferiority complex in the first place, she’s capable of triggering his insecurities more intensely than anybody else can. But maybe it’s also partly because on some level, he’s aware that she’s got a point now with the things she’s trying to say to him, and that makes him feel bad, and have doubts that he can’t afford to be having. Carmine’s certainly right to be concerned that his behaviour now would be driving any friends of his away – although she is almost definitely wildly wrong to be assuming Kieran even had any friends other than you before all of this.

(For that matter, she’s very wrong to assume that you are still his friend right now in a totally normal way; ha ha ha. But then, based on your options of “yes” and “yes” when Drayton asks you if you're Kieran's friend, it seems that you – the player character – are also somehow completely oblivious to the fact that Kieran just maybe might not consider you a friend any more on his end. Which just makes this whole thing even more excruciating.)

The dynamic between the siblings during the one brief time we see them interact here has notably changed, in that Kieran is finally able to stand up for himself more, telling Carmine to shut up when she tells him off. And yet, he doesn’t do so very forcefully, averting his gaze in a way that suggests he just sort of mumbles it. He probably realises she has a point about what she was saying – that he shouldn’t act so condescending towards you. Which on Carmine’s end, she said because she doesn’t want him to drive away the one friend he still (supposedly) has, but that’s not how it’d read on Kieran’s end, because he doesn’t believe you ever were his friend at all. He must have felt like his sister has a point only because he doesn’t have the right to act that way towards you, not when he still hasn’t proven himself to you yet (and maybe never will).

Unexpected reunion

See, there’s a lot of interesting stuff going on under the surface of Kieran’s reaction to suddenly meeting you here. Literally everything he’s been doing this entire time has been for the sole purpose of defeating you when he sees you again. Which means that you showing up and challenging the BB League should be exactly what he wants and has always been waiting for. And yet.

The first notable thing is that he had nothing to do with inviting you here – the person responsible for that was Carmine. She probably figured that you’d be able to help her brother out, so she recommended you to the director when she heard he was looking for an exchange student to invite from Paldea. As Champion of the school, Kieran should also have had enough influence to make such a recommendation – but he didn’t.

Then, when Kieran comes to the cafeteria, he has plenty of condescending things to say to Drayton (about how taking a lunch break is a waste of time, because who needs to bother with basic physical needs like eating when they could be training instead, right). But the moment he sees you, he’s just shocked at you even being here… and then he’s very quiet for the entire rest of the conversation.

Drayton puts things to a vote among the Elites plus Kieran as to whether you should be allowed to join the BB League, and – despite that this should be exactly what he wants – Kieran is the last to vote. He only does so when he’s forced to break the tie.

(Although, it’s revealing in a different way that the Elite Four all ask each other for their opinions first, with none of them naturally thinking to consult Kieran. Despite his newfound strength and authority, he is still socially excluded – but this time he really has nobody but himself to blame.)

Kieran’s wording of how he casts his vote is so very telling. Just: “It doesn’t matter who I’m facing… I don’t lose.” – and he says nothing else before leaving in a huff. He words this in a generalised way, as if this an overarching principle of his that has nothing to do with you in particular, even though it’s always been about you. Because if he let himself think about how you in particular will be his opponent, then suddenly the statement that he doesn’t lose doesn’t feel so certain. But, put on the spot like this, he cannot show any sign that he’s afraid he might lose to you – that would be like giving up and accepting that all the effort he’s put in for all this time has been for nothing. So he has no choice but to let you join.

(Drayton totally knew he would refuse to lose face like this if put on the spot, of course, and that the Elites would vote 2-2 between them and leave Kieran with the deciding vote, which is precisely why he set things up this way. Kieran’s not unaware of this, either.)

There’s a brief interim here as you head to the front desk to officially sign up for the League. This gives Kieran a moment alone to process the fact that, welp, this really is happening, you’re really here, and, isn’t this supposed to be exactly what he always wanted? Hasn’t everything always been so that he can beat you this time? He manages to twist things around in his head, convince himself that yes, this is it, the chance he’s been waiting for, and he will win when it comes down to it, he will, because that’s what it’s all been for.

As such, when he shows up at the front desk to confirm that he’s allowing you to join, Kieran is able to be a lot more direct about you challenging him than he was in his one whole sentence on the topic in the cafeteria. Even then, he makes a comment to Drayton about how he feels like he was manipulated into this… then immediately insists that he’s fine with it because this is what he wanted anyway. If it was truly 100% what he wanted, he wouldn’t have felt manipulated!

To sum all of this up: it is abundantly, delightfully clear beneath the surface that Kieran does not actually feel ready to face you. He would never have felt ready for this, no matter how long he’d spent training and pushing himself, because your impossible unreachable strength and his own inherent worthlessness are both so deeply ingrained in his mind that he is incapable of truly believing he can match you.

But, well, here you are, and now Drayton’s trapped Kieran in this situation where he has no choice but to keep up the mask of strength and confidence he’s been putting on all this time. So he’s got to act like he’s fine with you challenging him, whether he truly feels ready or not.

Your Elite Four challenge

As you work your way through the Elite Four’s ranks to earn the right to challenge him, Kieran is very insistent that you’d better not dare lose to anybody else before facing him, or to have gotten weaker in any way since he last met you.

You might think that Kieran would be glad if you actually did lose to one of the Elite Four and never manage to make it to him, because, hey, that means he’s already stronger than you! He doesn’t even have to worry about whether he can win his battle against you! But… no, that wouldn’t be how it’s supposed to go. The way Kieran’s been building things up in his head the entire time, his whole life is supposed to magically somehow get better when he beats you. He needs to prove himself and his new strength to you, specifically. It wouldn’t mean anything if someone else beat you first, or if you’re somehow not actually still the impossibly strong person he’s idolised and fixated so hard on becoming equal to. That’d just be the most crushing anticlimax for him, in which he never gets to achieve what he’s been striving so hard for, and in which he’d have to somehow come to terms with the fact that… he’s already stronger than you, and yet he still doesn’t feel better or any less agonisingly inferior than he always did? If that happened, he’d be at a complete loss as to any other way to escape how he feels about himself.

But, fortunately for him (for some value of “fortunate”), you of course still are just as strong as you always were. On hearing you assure him of this, and also on seeing it for himself as he watches one of your Elite Four battles, Kieran gives this awful twisted grin that does not even slightly reach his eyes (because he has completely forgotten how to genuinely smile and no doubt hasn’t ever done so this entire time). Yes, he will still get to have his long-anticipated showdown with you, and winning that will still somehow magically definitely fix everything that was ever wrong in his life. Definitely.

There’s also the part where, because you come with such glowing recommendations, you get to skip working your way up the BB League from the very bottom and can start right at challenging the Elite Four. Kieran has to feel all kinds of ways about this – on the one hand, he’d tell himself he’s glad because this means he has less time to wait until the battle that he’s definitely totally ready for, and he knows full well that you wouldn’t need to waste your time on small fry at the bottom. But on the other hand… he had to painstakingly work his way all the way up from zero in order to get where he is, so it sure is something that you’re so special that you just get to skip doing that. (And if you did have to start at the bottom, then it’d give him more time to train himself, just to make absolutely sure that he really is ready to face you…)

When you’ve beaten the final Elite, Kieran shows up again and scoffs that this was kind of slow for you, wasn’t it? I believe this isn’t just posturing and was his genuine reaction – you’re so impossibly perfect in his mind that he can’t even comprehend the idea that you wouldn’t breeze through this effortlessly without a single hitch. But still, at least he can turn the fact that you fell short of his impossible expectations into condescension that helps him feel above you and definitely capable of beating you. (How long did it take him to beat the Elite Four, I wonder? Probably longer than you – but of course he’s not gonna bring that up.)

Drayton, meanwhile, has now picked up on the fact that Kieran isn’t just obsessed with winning like he’d initially thought – he’s obsessed with you. Maybe he’d have approached things a little differently if he’d been aware in the beginning that you were a lot more to Kieran than just an old friend. But, welp, bit too late to back out of what he’s set up now, whoops.

And on Kieran’s end, he hasn’t let go of the feeling of being manipulated into this, and now feels like you and Drayton are plotting against him. This poor kid’s paranoia and tendency to assume people are laughing at him behind his back has still not gone away, even if it’s taken on a slightly different form now. It’s probably a good thing he doesn’t ever learn that Carmine was the one who called you here, or he’d think she was in on this supposed conspiracy too.

(But, hey, while Kieran could never do anything about it before whenever he was ganged up on and shunned by others, at least now he’s finally strong enough to fight back and hold his own, despite being outnumbered, right? Just like the ogre did.)

THE BATTLE

So now, it’s finally time: the battle that Kieran has absolutely everything riding on. Of course I’ve already made it abundantly clear here that every single thing he’s done has been for the sole goal of beating you right here and now – but it says a lot that he spends his pre-battle speech making sure you know this. He probably feels like you’re such an amazing superstar trainer that challenging someone for their Champion title is basically just another Tuesday for you, like this is nothing on your end – but this battle is everything for him, everything that he’s been spending every single moment of every single day building up towards for all this time, and he needs you to acknowledge this.

And as if that wasn’t enough, as the battle opens, Kieran screams into the sky with the sheer uncontainable emotion of how much this means to him. Everything he’s been feeling, bottling up, clinging to for so long is spilling out of him now that he’s finally here in this one pivotal moment he’s always been waiting for.

It comes spilling out in a lot more than just that scream, too; he has so many things to say throughout the battle as it all reaches fever pitch inside him. While some of his in-battle dialogue during his Teal Mask fights had fun hints at his issues in there, this one battle here absolutely takes the cake. This is quite possibly the most dialogue in any battle in any Pokémon game, and all of it has something interesting and nuanced going on that’s rooted in Kieran’s massive issues. I cannot resist taking this opportunity to talk about every single bit of it.

His first line as the battle begins is, “I know I’m making the right choice… You’ll understand that soon enough!”, which seems kind of odd on the surface. What “choice” is he even talking about that he feels the need to justify? Accepting a challenge to his Champion position is just what Champions are meant to do. But that’s not what Kieran’s thinking about here – he’s thinking about all of those times that Drayton and Carmine tried to talk him down from the entire way he was acting and pushing himself too hard. Every time they did, he insisted to himself that no, training this insanely hard is the right choice, he needs to do this, and it’ll all be worth it when he beats you. …Somehow. Definitely. You’ll see, you will, you have to…!

On the very first hit he lands on you – it doesn’t even need to be super-effective, any damaging hit will trigger it – he says, “How do you like that? See how hard I’ve trained? Not like that kid you battled in Kitakami, huh?!” In reality, the hit he lands here isn’t necessarily any bigger than the kinds of hits he dealt to you back in Kitakami – but it feels bigger to Kieran. He’s trained so hard that he feels so much stronger and so different from the kid he was back then, and he needs you to see and acknowledge this too.

Meanwhile, your first super-effective attack you land on him manages to pierce through his mask for a moment and get a “wowzers” out of him. It’s not actually any more impressive than any other super-effective hit he might receive from any other trainer – but because it’s coming from you, it feels so much more incredible, triggering his instinctive irrational idolisation of you just for a moment before he collects himself and puts his mask back up.

Then he insists that he’ll still win anyway, even if “the type matchups work out for you”. Which… isn’t how type matchups in battles work? Sure, you landed one super-effective hit, either because one of your Pokémon happened to have a good matchup, or you just had a good coverage move. That doesn’t mean that all of the type matchups in the battle are inherently in your favour. But Kieran apparently feels like they are – because, when it comes to him versus you, he always feels like everything in the world is on your side and he has to claw and grasp to regain the tiniest bit of ground against his inherent overwhelming disadvantage.

Speaking of everything being on your side, when you land your first critical hit on him (and I say “when” here because this battle is long enough that statistically you’re extremely unlikely not to at some point!), his response is delightful, raging that “even luck’s chosen you over me!” and that it’s “not fair!!!” All of his bitterness and jealousy about Ogerpon choosing you over him is still raw, evidently, so even something like you getting a statistically near-inevitable critical hit feels to him like luck itself taking your side against him, because everything always does. And on some level, he may have realised that you befriending Ogerpon was partly due to the sheer luck of you happening to meet her while he wasn’t around, so of course he’s bitter about luck because of that, too. It’s not fair, how you always get everything, so effortlessly, while he has nothing.

(He doesn’t comment at all if and when he lands a critical hit, because of course not. Confirmation bias is one hell of a drug.)

And of course, you bringing out Ogerpon herself gets an extremely strong reaction from Kieran. “You’ve got some nerve,” he snarls among broken mirthless laughter, to bring her out “NOW of all times?!” This, right here and now, was supposed to be his moment, his time to finally shine and show you how strong he is and take the victory. And yet you’re choosing this moment to parade Ogerpon in front of him, a reminder of the painful losses and inferiority he suffered back in Kitakami that he’s tried so hard to forget and overcome by making himself stronger, just rubbing it in his face that you got to have her because you’re so strong and lucky and perfect.

His expression during this line is one hell of a thing as well: shocked and wide-eyed and practically terrified, in stark contrast to all of his other expressions in this fight. He’s not only reeling from the pain of having his inferiority from back then shoved in his face, but also, he’s always believed that Ogerpon is so incredibly strong. If you’re using her against him in this battle, you and her working together… how is he ever going to be able to defeat that combination of impossible strength…?

(Apparently, Kieran’s trainer AI actually has a modification in this fight that makes him prioritise attacking Ogerpon more than an AI trainer otherwise would, which is delightful, I love that that’s a thing devs programmed in there. Of course he’d desperately want to get Ogerpon off the field as fast as he could before she utterly destroys him.)

As his back’s against the wall and he’s sending out his final Pokémon, Kieran’s still raging, with increasing desperation: “Just go down already! How are you still standing after I’ve thrown everything I have at you?!” This battle is not at all going how he’d insistently imagined it would in his head, in which he’d prove himself and win, not even though he’s giving it absolutely everything he has. (And the thought that you still won’t go down even then is terrifying to him. He really has given everything to this, he couldn’t possibly have done more – and yet, what if that still isn’t enough to beat you? That’d mean it’s just impossible for him, no matter what he does, and he’d have absolutely no idea how to cope with that.)

Just before he Terastallises his Hydrapple, he insists that he “doesn’t need the old me”, that he’s changed – here’s the way he felt he had no choice but to throw away everything about his former weaker self in order to get stronger, even the positive parts. But then he adds, “and I’ll show you I can change again!” He’s not just literally referring to the Terastallisation he’s about to do (although it’s thematically fitting that he brings up this topic as he’s doing this – and his Hydrapple’s Fighting Tera-type is a neat link to him having changed himself into being obsessed with strength) – rather, he’s referring to what he’s convinced himself will happen when (if) he wins this fight. That’ll change everything for him, right? That’ll make everything good, finally; he’s going to change for the better once he wins this, he has to…!

And then… Kieran’s animation while he’s Terastallising is an odd one. He’s remarkably expressionless about it, compared to the intensity of his expressions in the entire rest of the fight. But I think the reason for this must be: most trainers wince with the force of it as they begin charging their Tera Orb – and apparently, Kieran doesn’t want to be seen doing that, because that’d make him seem weak. So he’s trained himself to put on an expressionless mask, not even looking at the orb directly, to avoid that. (And one of the few trainers who doesn’t wince, who’s able to stare directly at the dazzling power coming from their Tera Orb without flinching, holding it up for all to see… it’s you, of course. Kieran almost certainly saw this from you a few times back in Kitakami.)

His last possible line in the fight, as he orders an attack from his Hydrapple, at which point he is guaranteed to have only one or two Pokémon left and be desperately fighting to hold on with his back against the wall, includes him saying, “I’m capable of winning too, you know!” Because that is definitely a very normal thing for a reigning Champion to need to say to their challenger. Even with all the victories he’s had on his way here, Kieran still has to fight to convince himself that he is capable of winning, because being up against you and teetering on the brink of defeat like this just reminds him of all his previous agonising losses at your hands, his inferiority complex rising up to overwhelm him with the feeling that he’ll never be able to be strong or win anything at all.

(And, hey… what if he had actually managed to win? Tragically, the game does not let you see any of his reaction if you do happen to lose to him; it just rewinds time like it never happened. But there’s no way that Kieran beating you here would truly have helped or fixed anything about that massive inferiority complex of his. He’d ride the high for a bit, but then he’d go back to the same condescending façade he’d had before and gradually realise that… he doesn’t actually feel any better about himself beneath it like he was supposed to once this happened. Funnily enough, beating you in a Pokémon battle would not have magically turned him into you.)

Everything falls apart

But, of course, because the game refuses to let you not be the Perfect Protagonist (or, perhaps, because the narrative needs to go this way in order for him to actually get better in the long run), Kieran loses. The last time he lost a pivotal battle against you that he’d told himself everything depended on, back in Kitakami, he crumpled immediately in defeat – but this time, his reaction’s a lot more drawn out. Back then, the conviction that he could never ever beat you was right there at the surface to the point that he was basically expecting to lose despite his determination. But here, he’s spent so long insisting to himself over and over that he will win this time, he will, convincing himself that things just have to go that way… that it takes him a moment to even process the fact that they haven’t. He’s just shocked, lost, dumbfounded, not knowing how to react, because this wasn’t supposed to happen…!

But then the spectators around him mutter and begin to leave, apparently because he lost, because he’s no good after all and so there’s no point staying to watch him, and this seems to be what agonisingly drives home the reality to Kieran. All the respect and esteem he’d managed to grasp for himself – in this one awful moment it feels like all of it is crumbling away before his eyes. All of his effort to get here (so much effort) was worthless, all because he couldn’t beat you. He’s gone right back down to being nothing. I adore the blurry effects in the cutscene as Kieran sways and staggers and collapses, giving a visceral sense that the shock of this is hitting him so deep that it's rendered him physically light-headed and dizzy. Guh, this poor kid.

And then Drayton has to come along and rub it in. Kieran winces in agony as he gets smugly called “ex-Champion” – though he was never doing any of this for the Champion title itself, having it meant something and made him matter, and now that’s gone like it was never there at all. It’s bound to sting especially hard coming from Drayton, whom Kieran believed was plotting with you to take him down, take away everything he had, and now that’s exactly what’s happened, because he wasn’t strong enough to stand up for himself after all.

…The fact that Drayton felt the need to be a smug bitch about this first and foremost does not remotely help Kieran actually listen to and internalise the genuinely good advice Drayton gives just a few moments later. He really was doing this because he cares, and because Kieran ought to go back to having fun with things! But of course Kieran isn’t in any state to listen to that, not after all his paranoia about Drayton manipulating him, and then Drayton rubbing his loss in on top of that; he still has no idea that the guy genuinely wants to help him. (Unfortunately, while Drayton cares about the person Kieran should be, he has been deeply frustrated by the person Kieran is being, and that comes out in sarcasm and smuggery first, hence why this completely bombs.)

So instead of taking on board Drayton’s advice, which he probably wasn’t even listening to, Kieran just starts desperately, incoherently mumbling about how he’ll win next time. It’s the only thing he can cling to – the same thing he always has, to escape the all-consuming, unbearable thought of just being achingly inferior forever and ever with no way out. He still can’t see any other way out that isn’t beating you. (But… how is he ever going to win next time, when he’s already given it absolutely everything he had and still couldn’t manage it…?)

Seeing him being so clearly Not Okay, you approach him and (probably) attempt to say something to him, but it seems like even if you try, you barely get any words out before Kieran just shuts down even more. He reacts with slumping, and with an “Aw, man…” – the same words and body language he’d often have back in Teal Mask whenever something (usually his sister) would push back at him and make him feel small. Now that he can no longer cling to his façade that he totally is stronger than you and just hasn’t proven it yet, he’s reverted right back to the state of mind he was always in back then. And it’s you in particular that triggers his inferiority complex harder than anything else right now, even if you just silently approach him, or say a few words that certainly wouldn’t have been anything cruel.

It's a bit of a shame that the game doesn’t actually let us see what you try to say to him, assuming you do. But it most certainly couldn’t have been anything along the lines of “You put up a really tough fight!”, because that kind of thing – acknowledging Kieran’s strength, even though he lost – is exactly what he’d need to hear right now, and he’s clearly not hearing it. Whatever it was you did say, he probably barely even heard it beneath his crushing sense of inferiority at being near you, and you probably trailed off pretty quickly upon seeing his reaction.

(In fact, it might say a lot that your dialogue options here are so non-specific that they’re literally just “Say something/nothing”. This suggests that the player character has no idea what to say to Kieran at seeing him in this absolute state, and they can only choose to either accept that and remain silent, or to fumble for something to try and say anyway. I believe it’s pretty important to “your” role in Kieran’s arc that the player character is extremely socially awkward and just finds themselves utterly lost as to how to deal with him breaking down like this because of them. Someone with better social intelligence would be able to say the right thing here to help him at least begin to feel better! But that someone is emphatically not you, it seems. This apparent social obliviousness also tracks with the fact that you – the player character – agreed with Carmine’s very short-sighted decision to lie to Kieran back in Kitakami, thus unwittingly setting off this whole domino effect of his issues in the first place.)

Sudden legendary hunt

If Kieran had had longer to process his defeat, maybe he’d have realised that there really is no way he can “win next time” when he already gave it his absolute all this time, and he might have begun to approach the fact that there’s nothing he can do but let things go. However, while he’s still reeling, he almost immediately gets dragged into the meeting with Briar about her expedition to Area Zero.

Kieran looks like he’s barely even listening to the conversation at first, just staring miserably into space in front of him, no doubt stuck endlessly thinking how can I ever be stronger than you when everything I had still wasn’t enough??? But then Briar mentions that they’ll get the opportunity to find a legendary Pokémon on this quest – and whoops, now Kieran’s paying attention. Because here’s the answer to his impossible conundrum of how he can beat you next time.

Make no mistake: this is nothing like Ogerpon was to him. He’d been fixated on her and cared about her ever since he was little for deeply personal reasons based on him relating to her situation and projecting onto her. Her strength was part of it, but it wasn’t that he wanted to obtain that strength by catching her; he just admired her strength and wanted to be like her, and if he could, then maybe one day she’d acknowledge that by being his friend (and therefore also incidentally his Pokémon partner). But Terapagos is nothing to Kieran here other than a source of potential strength for him to acquire for himself by capturing it, a tool that will finally let him beat you.

Nonetheless, because this is another legendary Pokémon, Kieran can’t help but draw the surface comparison to Ogerpon anyway and remember the way she chose you over him. He’s probably already imagining that Terapagos might just do the same thing, because you’re so strong and special while he’s nothing – so he tells himself, fervently, that no, he won’t let that happen again, he won’t let this chance go.

He doesn’t ever say as much, but he’s bound to be already having doubts as to if he really could ever capture such an amazing Pokémon. Legendary Pokémon – or really, any Pokémon in general – are supposed to join trainers once they acknowledge their strength; that’s what battles to weaken and capture a wild Pokémon are all about. How is Kieran ever going to get Terapagos to do that for him when he’s so weak? But even so, even if it seems too good to be true, he has to cling to this possibility. It’s the only chance he has left to still just maybe be able to beat you, to continue running away from that gaping pit of inferiority inside him that he doesn’t know how to face.

(A minor nitpick I have with the game’s writing: it’d have been fun here if things had been subtler and Kieran hadn’t outright said that he wants to catch Terapagos at all. His intent would have been very clear regardless for anyone who could read between the lines – I realised what was up the moment he reacted to hearing about a legendary, because Oh No. But nonetheless, it seems like you the player character and also Carmine are both socially oblivious enough to fail to follow Kieran’s stated intent to catch Terapagos through to its obvious conclusion of “he’s still fixated on beating you”. I guess the two of you just assume, oh, hey, he’s found another legendary Pokémon to get excited about, that’s good, that means he must be getting over Ogerpon, right…? Ha. Ha ha ha. If only.)

Journey through Area Zero

As you make your way into and through the depths of Area Zero, Kieran seems to have largely lost hold of the condescendingly superior façade he’d been putting up all this time (after all, he doesn’t have the right to act that way towards you when he’s still weaker than you). This allows a few little hints of his true self to begin to rise to the surface and shine through again, at least a little bit.

He lets slip a “wowzers” on seeing the sheer alien beauty of the place for the first time, and later at the lab he’s so excited at the technology reminding him of a spy movie that he even forgets to mask his accent for a whole sentence. But both times, he’s quick to catch himself and brush it off and act aloof. That excitableness was part of who he used to be, that kid who was weak, and he's still convinced that he can’t afford to be that person any more. But, hey, getting these little reminders that he actually enjoys being his true self and has missed it, at least certain parts of it, has to help! Plus, Carmine seems happy at these moments of him being the little brother she knows and loves again; they have a bit of regular healthy sibling banter; she notices him being considerate about Briar reading someone’s private diary…

These are all good signs that Kieran’s starting to get back to normal, maybe just a little… but, not completely. The spark still isn’t there in his eyes, even when he’s smiling about the cool spy vibe of the lab. Despite the distractions, he’s largely very intent on just getting to the legendary Pokémon and nothing else. And perhaps most relevant of all, he barely says anything of substance to you, even if you try and talk to him.

He does have a notable reaction near the beginning when you mention that you came here last time with some friends of yours. Kieran had probably never quite considered the idea of you having other friends before – Ogerpon did not exactly prime him to imagine that about his idols, after all – but, now that he’s hearing it… of course you’ve got friends. Why wouldn’t you? You have everything, everything he’s always wanted so badly for himself but could never, ever have.

Then, of course, you’re the one who does all the hard work in the Underdepths to deal with the sparkling Pokémon that are blocking the way forwards. For the first one, Carmine almost asks Kieran to take care of it before changing her mind and asking you, which, ouch, that’s got to have stung. (I don’t think she did that to deliberately be unkind, though; it’s probably that she still feels a little weird and uncomfortable about her brother battling, because of the way he’s been, so she’d rather just watch you battle it instead.)

Because of all this, later on Kieran bitterly comments that he feels like everyone’s relying on you too much. Really, the only reason this is the case is because you just happen to be the one who has the lizardbike buddy that can navigate you to the Pokémon you need to defeat… but then, that in itself is another sign of how special and favoured by legendaries you are, isn’t it.

And actually, you’re not necessarily the only one who can reach the sparkling Pokémon! Kieran has a Dragonite, which must have been what he rode on for the flying Elite Four trial, so, in theory, he could go and deal with those sparkling Pokémon himself. But he doesn’t, because you’re already doing it anyway, and he doesn’t feel worthy of taking the spotlight from you. (Or, he could ask to join you on your lizard buddy as you head over there, but ha, even less chance he’s about to do that.)

One bit of optional dialogue Kieran has during this part is insisting that he could totally make quick work of those sparkling Pokémon if only they weren’t so far away. This is very true… but the fact that he never tries to do so despite actually having the ability to reach them himself tells us that his words are just desperate posturing that he doesn’t truly believe. He can’t even register the part where he genuinely has a really strong team of Pokémon that he worked hard to train, because he did all of that for the sole purpose of beating you, and since he couldn’t manage that, that means that none of it matters and he’s just useless.

Then there’s the moment near the end where Carmine tells Kieran it’s his turn to call out to you to let you know the path opened up, but Kieran miserably assumes you’d prefer to hear it from her instead. (As if who tells you that even makes any difference!) Carmine did this to try and begin bridging the gap between you, and she forces him to do it anyway despite his protest, but then when she asks if he’s got anything more to say to you, he just says no. He still doesn’t feel like he’s worthy of even interacting with you in any way at all, still convinced he must be nothing to you.

There’s a heartbreaking hypocrisy to this, too, since he knows you’re perfectly okay interacting with Carmine, and it’s not like she’s ever been able to beat you in battle either. But… but that’s different, right, because she’s already someone who’s strong and cool and worthy of your friendship. In Kieran’s head, he is the single person in the world who is so automatically, inherently worthless that he needs to prove his strength before he is allowed to Matter to you or to anybody.

Outburst at the crystal

As the group reaches the final chamber, Kieran rushes ahead into it and begins pulling at the crystal the moment he figures it even might be Terapagos, because he is so desperate not to lose this chance to anybody else (meaning you). In his urgency, completely oblivious to how messed-up this sentiment is, he blurts out that this’ll mean he can finally beat you, at which Carmine, who failed to realise this was still the reason he was doing all this until now, tries to call him out on it—

—And Kieran can’t stand that; he can’t let her try and take this away from him too on top of everything else, because this feels like the one remaining chance he’ll ever get to still have something and matter next to you. So in a kneejerk attempt to defend why he needs this, everything comes tumbling out. All of those feelings about how you have everything he’s ever wanted, and he has nothing, how he trained so so hard but even that ended up worthless because he still lost to you in the end, so this is all he has left.

(Well, it’s not quite everything that comes spilling out of Kieran here. He doesn’t say anything about why he feels he needs to beat you, and how that’ll totally magically solve everything for him – because there is no actual logic behind that part. There’s nothing he can say to make that make sense, and on some level he must be aware of that, must know it doesn’t, really. But if he admits that, admits that there really isn’t any way at all to escape from his crushing inferiority, then he’ll have nothing left whatsoever, which he cannot bear.)

Hearing Kieran’s outburst about how worthless he feels, Carmine tries to put in a good word for him about how he’s tried his best too – which is good! That’s exactly the kind of thing he needs to hear; she’s finally getting it! But unfortunately, because she herself is one of Kieran’s sore points, in regards to how you magically went and befriended her, he doesn’t properly register what she’s saying. Hearing her speak at all just triggers that thought and spurs him into venting about that, too.

His hang-ups with you befriending Carmine are interestingly reversed from how they appeared to be in Teal Mask. Back then, he seemed more low-key jealous that she might have been trying to take you, his first ever friend, away from him. But now (now that he’s convinced that you were never really his friend in the first place), it’s all twisted around into yet another sign of how perfect you are, because you managed to win over even someone as prickly and abrasive as his sister so remarkably fast. (Which, of course, has less to do with you than it has to do with the fact that Carmine’s actually a lot softer at heart than Kieran realises.)

He’s also maybe thinking about Drayton here, about the one time Drayton claimed in the cafeteria that you and he were “already tight”. That was a massive exaggeration, but no doubt Kieran filed that away as another person – someone else he finds infuriating and impossible to get along with – that you instantly won over with your magical friendship powers because of course you did. And on top of that, he’s bound to be thinking about his recent realisation that you came to Area Zero last time with your friends, plural, because of course you’d already got a bunch of friends, you’re perfect, you can do anything you want, you can be friends with anyone!

And yet – even as Kieran says this, it is objectively not true. Because you’re not friends with him right now! No amount of your amazing protagonist powers has been able to cut through his pile of issues and properly befriend him, even though you want to, because you are in fact not perfect in the slightest and have no idea what to say to get through to him and help him! But of course Kieran doesn’t realise this contradiction in what he’s saying – he's worthless, so the fact that you’re not friends with him is obviously just because you never wanted to be.

Speaking of you not being perfect, this moment here in which Kieran outright voices his jealousy and sense of inferiority compared to you is bound to be the first moment in which you, the player character, actually begin to realise that this has been his problem this whole time. (And, to be fair to your poor socially-oblivious avatar, it really wasn’t very apparent from their perspective until now! The only time Kieran ever gave any real explicit indication of his issues around you before was in Teal Mask, after the third battle when he lamented that “it’s because I’m weak” – but at the time, the player character wasn’t aware (like we the players were) that he knew they’d lied to him, so they couldn’t have known he was thinking about that. They probably just chalked his reaction down to him taking the lost battle particularly hard. The lie reveal was messy but seemed to work itself out; he was obviously upset when you caught Ogerpon but appeared to accept it well enough in the moment – then all of a sudden he showed up later being really determined to beat you for some reason??? Why.)

Another thing I love about this moment is the animation of Kieran desperately pulling at Terapagos’s crystal, the way he has to pause to catch his breath in between each huge tug, which really gets across that he is giving this every ounce of his strength. And that still isn’t enough, because it never is – he’s always too weak to be able to grasp even one thing for himself, but he is never ever going to stop trying no matter how impossible it seems.

(And I wonder if it’s going through his mind as he does this that surely this wouldn’t be nearly so hard for you. Like this is a sword-in-the-stone kind of thing, in which Terapagos would slide out smoothly like butter for someone who’s truly worthy of it, while a weakling like him is stuck hopelessly yanking on it with everything he has and just making himself look pathetic, because of course he doesn’t deserve this.)

Catching Terapagos

Except it turns out Kieran can manage to pull out the crystal after all, doing so with such force that he accidentally flings it halfway across the cavern to land between you and him. He rushes to pick it up before anyone else can, because this is his and he can’t let anyone take it from him, he can’t—

But then Terapagos wakes up, pops out of the crystal that serves as its shell… and it’s facing you. It doesn’t even see or acknowledge Kieran at all. It looks up at you adorably, like a baby imprinting on the first thing it sees, taking a few steps towards its new friend…?

(this has to be such an aching reminder of the way Ogerpon so quickly came to adore you and didn’t care about him, all compressed into one single agonising moment, ouch)

…This was not Terapagos choosing you over Kieran in any meaningful way. Kieran was behind it, such that it literally couldn’t see him and didn’t even know he existed. All it was doing was latching onto the first person it saw, which was you, because – completely by chance – it happened to wake up facing you and not him. If it’d woken up facing Kieran, it’d have seen and approached him in exactly the same way. Terapagos’s dormant crystal form is symmetrical; Kieran had no way to know which end was the head and which was the tail until it popped out.

This was, almost literally, a fucking coin flip. Only the coin was a magical crystal turtle and the winner was whoever “heads” landed facing towards.

(But then, luck has always chosen you over Kieran, too, hasn’t it?)

And so, seeing this happen to him yet again, seeing his one last chance of maybe finally having something and mattering about to be casually snatched away by you, like always, because the universe always gives you everything he wants… Kieran makes an awful, desperate split-second decision and throws the Master Ball. Because of course he does. It’s not right; it’s not fair on Terapagos – but it is so achingly understandable why Kieran would be driven to do this in this moment. The whole thing was so cruelly, rudely unfortunate. This poor kid just wants so badly to have something, to have anything at all where he’s not immediately overshadowed and upstaged by you.

(Also, shout-outs to the narrative cleverness of quietly establishing that BB Champions get given Master Balls, by the game giving you one when you beat Kieran, such that you think nothing of it at the time but can realise right away in this moment where Kieran got his from.)

Still, it’s notable how quickly Kieran was able to pull out the Master Ball, which suggests he’d had it ready near the top of his bag. It must have crossed his mind on the way here that surely, you’re going to somehow magically sway Terapagos to join you – or that it’ll just shun him, because earning a legendary’s respect involves proving one’s strength, and he’s still so weak – such that he felt he might need a way to guarantee it would become his, no matter what.

But even then, I do want to believe that Kieran wouldn’t necessarily have used the Master Ball if he hadn’t felt like he had no other option, and that he wanted to at least try to get Terapagos to join him willingly, like trainers are supposed to do. If he’d won the turtle-coin flip and it had woken up facing him, maybe he’d have been able to do so! But of course he didn’t get to have that.

(It’s kind of a shame that the characters never discuss the dodginess of catching a Pokémon from behind in a Master Ball, how that gave poor Terapagos no choice in the matter like Pokémon are supposed to have when they join a trainer. But then, pointing out that Master Balls are inherently ethically dubious gets awkward considering that the player can freely use them on anything they like, so the game was probably never going to go there. You are too silent-protagonist and Briar is too irresponsible-adult to comment on it, but maybe Carmine could at least have had a brief line questioning this? But, well, at least she does express apprehension about going in to battle with a legendary Pokémon they know almost nothing about, which is also a very valid concern, considering what ends up happening.)

Trying to beat you with Terapagos

So of course, the very next thing Kieran does is challenge you to battle him with Terapagos, so that he can finally beat you. Only… he doesn’t show anywhere near as much of that furious, fervent determination that he had for the Champion match. All that fire of his got snuffed out the moment he lost back then, and it never really came back. This isn’t the battle he’s been psyching himself up for and dedicating everything towards for months; it’s nothing but a desperate grasp at not falling apart completely. He’s kind of just… going through the motions, trying to beat you simply because it’s what he’s been clinging to all this time, and he still doesn’t know what else to do with himself if not this.

And more than anything, Kieran has to know deep down that he doesn’t truly deserve this, not after the way in which he caught Terapagos. After all, trainers are supposed to earn having strong Pokémon in their team, either by training them up from a low level themselves, or by proving their strength to a high-level Pokémon by weakening and catching it in battle. (This is why high-levelled traded Pokémon will disobey you if you don’t have enough badges – you haven’t given them a reason to respect you!) Catching a legendary from behind with a Master Ball is none of those things. Kieran has to be perfectly aware that he has not earned Terapagos’s strength in any way (just like he knew all along he’d never really be able to).

A very revealing line on this matter is that if you say you’re not ready to battle him yet, Kieran tells you, “You’d better not run away from this”. He never once implied you might run away from the Champion battle – that’d be like admitting you couldn’t win, and you’d never do that. But here, it's different, because Terapagos isn’t his strength, so even if he could beat you with it, it wouldn’t really prove anything about him. You’d be well within your rights to just refuse to indulge Kieran in this at all, and on some level, he knows that.

(…With all that said, Terapagos does obey his commands in the battle anyway. It’s sadly difficult to attribute any definitive emotions to it because it’s pretty unexpressive, but perhaps we can imagine that Terapagos is kind of just lost and confused, going along with the orders of the one who threw its ball because it’s not really sure what’s happening and battling is kind of instinctual for all Pokémon. Maybe it’s even more instinctual for Terapagos, thanks to its ability that automatically shifts it into a battle form when there’s an opponent in front of it. It doesn’t really help matters that you just sent something out to battle it without questioning things, either.)

If you manage to hit Terapagos super-effectively during the battle, Kieran scoffs that “it has a weakness? I thought this was the hidden treasure of Area Zero?!” What do you mean his super-special legendary that would let him finally definitely win this time isn’t invincible, that it’s still functionally just a regular Pokémon and it’s still possible – and not even that hard, really – for you to beat him even now.

And if you land a critical hit, oh boy: “How can you get critical hits, even at a time like this… What are you, the hero of this story?” Kieran is clearly raw with bitterness about the turtle-coin flip, about luck choosing you because you’re just so heroic, even when this was finally supposed to be his moment really seriously for real this time. It’s reminiscent of another time he compared you to a hero when you critted him, in his fourth Teal Mask battle – but back then, he said you were like the hero in “a story”, whereas here, you’re the hero of “this story”. Kieran’s realising on some level that if this were a story, you would be the hero of it, you’d deserve to win, and… wouldn’t he be the villain? Because heroes certainly do not go around throwing Master Balls at legendaries from behind.

(For the record, though? Kieran is not a villain. Stop calling him a villain, people. Not a single thing he does is outright villainous; catching Terapagos in this way is wrong, yes, but it’s an act of desperation for which his entire end goal is literally just to win a dang Pokémon battle against you. He’s barely even that much of an antagonist, if we get into that – this isn’t really a you-versus-him conflict so much as a him-versus-himself conflict that you happen to be inextricably wrapped up in.)

Kieran isn’t even that crushed when he loses this battle, just… lost and confused. He insists that “I thought if I had Terapagos, it would make me stronger,” as if catching it in a Master Ball would change anything about his strength – but really, he has to have known that wouldn’t truly be the case. And when Briar remarks that Terapagos isn’t as strong as it should be, Kieran just miserably assumes, “so it isn’t the hidden treasure?” Like, of course this was too good to be true, of course whatever Pokémon he actually managed to get his hands on was just some dud and not the real deal, because he’s never deserved to have anything worthwhile. His expression’s upset, and pleading, as he says this was meant to let him beat you, still like that’d somehow fix everything, but his desperation’s become something pitiful compared to how furious it was before. He just doesn’t know what else to do, doesn’t know how else to cope with his crushing sense of inferiority if he can’t hold onto this.

Terapagos goes berserk

The only reason Kieran even Terastallises Terapagos is pretty much because Briar tells him to, and he’s at a loss for what else to do. It’s very possible that if an actual responsible adult had been here to talk him down – or, heck, even just let Carmine talk to him, since she was trying to do so again – then he’d have finally been in a state to listen and none of the ensuing disaster would have needed to happen. But Briar’s gotta see her giant sparkle turtle, because it turns out that basically her entire character exists to facilitate Kieran’s character arc having the most dramatic climax possible, and I for one am 1000% okay with that.

Kieran looks apprehensive and afraid even as he’s just beginning to Terastallise it (no emotionless mask to cover the wince this time), perhaps because he can feel that the power from his Tera Orb is way more than it usually is and isn’t sure this is a good idea. But what else can he do? He has nothing else left – so he throws the orb anyway.

Again, Terapagos is frustratingly unexpressive, such that it’s difficult to get a sense of whether it attacking Kieran once it Terastallises is an instinctive, unconscious defence mechanism, or something more deliberate. But it’s certainly more fun to imagine it’s deliberate – that this is Terapagos lashing out from anger and fear now that it’s been given a terrifying amount of power it can’t fully handle and begins to realise, wait, no, it didn’t want this. That makes this problem distinctly more Kieran’s fault, which is a good thing for his arc. (If Terapagos’s rampage wasn’t based in its emotions in any way, then this kind of wouldn’t be Kieran’s fault at all, not really! It was significantly more on Briar that he Terastallised it, after all. Kieran’s real mistake was catching it without its consent – so it’s more narratively satisfying for this to be, in part, him facing the consequences for that.)

Either way, the important part is that Kieran is bound to feel like this is Terapagos lashing out at him because he shouldn’t have caught it. He always knew deep down that that was wrong, and now here’s the proof, because of course a strong and special legendary like that would never truly acknowledge him. And now it’s so mad at him for trying to act otherwise that it tries to kill him. (This poor kid is already clearly very sensitive to rejection in general, but, ouch, that has to have been like a stab in the gut.) This is all his fault for daring to think he deserved to have any kind of strength at all.

But then you save his life, by sending out your lizardbike friend to shield him! Which on the one hand just makes you even more of a perfect hero – but this time, your heroism is a good thing for Kieran. And, more than that… you wanted to save him. You saw him as someone worth protecting? You, actually, care about him??? (Kieran has been convinced that he’s nothing to you pretty much ever since you lied to him back in Teal Mask, but, oh, hey, maybe not…?)

Not that he has much time to process that in the heat of the moment; he’s too busy freaking out over everything such that Carmine has to be the one to tell him he should recall Terapagos. Maybe on some level he just feels like Terapagos would never listen to him if he tried, because it literally just attempted to kill him – and indeed, it fights back and breaks the Master Ball rather than go back to being his Pokémon (there’s another painful sting of rejection). Of course Kieran should never have caught it or called himself its trainer. He reflexively asks “why?” it wouldn’t come back, but he knows why. It’s because he’s worthless and deserves nothing, and he should never have tried to pretend otherwise.

Facing the gaping pit

At the start of the final battle, Kieran’s just frozen in terror at what he’s accidentally unleashed, not to mention the recent shock of nearly being killed and the knowledge that this is all his fault. (Even though, it isn’t all his fault! Briar deserves at least half the blame for this! But that doesn’t remotely occur to Kieran in the moment, because he is intrinsically the most worthless person ever, so of course all the blame should be on him.) But after a little while, the immediate terror fades, and Kieran’s left with nothing but the overwhelming feeling that he’s useless, that he can’t help anyone. It’s that vast aching pit of inferiority that’s always been there inside him, finally right at the surface.

There’s nothing he can do to run away from it any more. Ogerpon didn’t want him and chose you instead. All of his efforts to make himself stronger meant nothing in the end because he still lost to you. He never should have tried to catch Terapagos, because it never wanted him either and all he’s done is put himself and everyone else in danger. There’s just no way out.

Which means that, for the first time ever, Kieran has no choice but to finally, actually face up to and confront his terrifyingly huge inferiority complex, and begin to fight against it in a genuinely healthy way.

Maybe he wouldn’t have even tried at all if it hadn’t been for the fact that he needed to help with this battle! Shout-outs to the narrative for creating a situation in which Kieran has to help after Carmine’s one remaining Pokémon goes down, because he might otherwise never have done so.

(I love that one of the things the battle camera can do while you’re idling here is cut to Kieran and linger a moment with him, with the look of either frozen terror or miserable inferiority on his face. Even though he’s technically just a background character right now for the mechanical purposes of the battle, this moment is about him, and the devs knew it.)

And of course it takes Kieran a really long time, most of the battle, to actually find the courage to fight back! His inferiority complex is so massive, so all-encompassing, the root cause of all of the desperate, self-destructive, obsessive things he’s done to try and escape it, that of course it’s so, so terrifyingly difficult for him to actually face up to it and find the strength to try and believe that… maybe it’s just wrong.

Crucially, the single thing that does the most to trigger Kieran’s shift into courage is you – you, calling out to him, asking for his help. Hearing that you actually value his strength and need his help is exactly the kind of acknowledgement that Kieran has always desperately craved from you all along. It’s just what he needs to help him believe that, just maybe, he might actually be kinda strong and worth something after all.

But even then! Even with that, his inferiority complex does not magically vanish, because of course it doesn’t work that way! All your words do is give Kieran the courage to fight it, by holding onto the fact that you believe in him and he’s not alone. His animations here are so good; there’s tears in his eyes even as he manages to snap himself into determination, because he is still so scared and just finally being really, really brave about it!

One really lovely subtlety is that the highlight in his eyes, that little visual detail that makes a character really look alive, which was completely not there in Kieran for the entirety of Indigo Disk up until now, finally comes back in the exact moment when he finds the courage to fight. And it's neat how the game manages to re-use the same screaming animation Kieran had for the beginning of the Champion fight, with the only minor differences being the tears and that highlight in his eyes, but in this new context it communicates an entirely different kind of emotion. It’s like he’s fervently psyching himself up into believing that he is capable of doing this.

And hey, Kieran’s contribution to the battle really is pretty helpful! It’s a genuinely tough fight to the point that, no matter your level, there’s a good chance you were struggling on your own for a while, so you’re probably glad he’s here to help even just in a mechanical sense. His Hydrapple’s Supersweet Syrup ability can be useful to you as well as him, and then if it goes down, he switches to Dragonite and – because of the evasiveness drop – begins spamming near-accurate Thunders on a Terapagos who is Water-type for this final phase. Look at him go! (And another thing Hydrapple can do to support you is use Dragon Cheer, which delights me, because it’s Kieran deciding that actually he’s okay with you getting all the critical hits after all. Aww.)

Once Terapagos is defeated, if you try to not catch it, Kieran will tell you that you need to do it, that “it has to be you, not me!” It’s so lovely that there’s not a hint of bitterness to him here as he says this, just perfectly comfortably accepting it, because he never really wanted Terapagos anyway and he knows it’ll be happier with you, and that’s all that matters. Even if you don’t get that line, his encouragement of you as you go for a Pokéball is more than enough to communicate the fact that he’s okay with you doing this. And Kieran’s smiling again, cheering you on with that same animation of his from back in Teal Mask when he was super excited to watch you battle his sister! This is the excitable, battle-loving kid he always was and finally is once more! His smile is even more adorable now without his hair obscuring half of it, too.

Letting it go

In the end, Kieran’s finally able to let things go thanks to multiple factors brought about by what happened in Area Zero. There’s the part where he spent the adventure being just a little bit closer to his normal self, letting him realise that he misses being like that and that maybe there was nothing inherently bad or weak about those parts of him at all. There’s the way that Terapagos going berserk served as a very stark representation of how his obsession with strength only ends up hurting himself and everyone around him, which must have helped him see that his behaviour leading up to this was doing the same kind of thing and he can’t go back to that.

And, perhaps most importantly, you acknowledged his strength by calling out for him to help you against Terapagos, which is what Kieran really needed the most all along. By joining you in the battle, he’s finally begun to face his inferiority complex, to shoot down the conviction in his mind that he’s useless and weak and can’t do anything, and prove to himself that he’s capable of confronting scary things after all, even including his own mistakes.

I do have another small writing nitpick about his dialogue in the post-battle scene, in that I don’t quite agree with his progression from “I just don’t have it in me to be like you” straight to “finally I can let it go”. Kieran was always aware of the former, deep down, but knowing that never did anything but make him latch desperately onto trying to prove that wrong no matter how impossible it felt. Meanwhile, the latter implies that he’s always consciously wanted to let it go and just somehow couldn’t despite that, which isn’t quite it either.

Instead, I think it’d work if he first went from how he can’t ever be like you into “I guess I have to just let it go”, and then from there into “Yeah… finally I can let it go”. Feeling like he simply has no choice but to let go at first, and only from there would he reflect and realise that actually, he can now, and maybe a part of him had always kind of wanted to after all.

Delightfully, as Kieran begrudgingly accepts that he can’t ever be like you, you finally get a dialogue option that lets you tell him that he’s strong and cool and worth something as he is!!! It seems like it really did take you hearing his inferiority complex directly from him in order for you to realise that this was something he needed to hear. He reflexively tries to downplay your compliment, like he didn’t really do anything impressive at all just now, because he still instinctively feels that way about himself – again, his inferiority complex has not just magically vanished, because it doesn’t work like that! – but hearing otherwise from you of all people has to be an immense help for him in fighting against it.

And it’s this that sets Kieran off crying, from that overwhelmingly positive emotion that you think he’s really cool, aww. This seems to break something of an emotional dam for him, letting him just have a good long cry about all of it, which, yes, he has so many emotions he’s needed to let out for so long now and it is good and healthy that he’s finally able to do so! (I wish this part was better animated, alas – but believe me, I am imagining him having such a big long cathartic cry even if the game isn’t managing to adequately show it.)

Then there’s the final scene! It’s so brave of Kieran to have resolved to apologise and make amends for everything he did wrong. That is scary as hell and comes with a huge risk of massive painful criticism and rejection, but he’s doing it anyway because he wants to do the right thing. He is such a good kid at heart despite his massive issues having driven him into several big mistakes.

Now that Kieran’s returned to something resembling his old self, his anxious body language from before is back – he’s barely making eye contact with you as he speaks, his head low, instinctively trying to hide his face behind the one bit of hair he still has hanging down. But nonetheless, you can tell that he’s making an effort to fight that and push himself to be just a little bit more assertive than he was able to be before all this. As he asks if you two can be friends again, he’s grimacing, already braced for rejection, hesitating then blurting out all of it in one big go before he changes his mind – there’s still a very significant part of him convinced that you’d just never want that and he doesn’t even have the right to ask. But at least he’s now able to realise that said part is probably wrong and find the courage to ask anyway! Because he wants this, and he deserves to at least try and grasp good things for himself!

And of course you still want to be his friend, because you basically always were anyway from your perspective, and Kieran is so adorably happy to have this second chance, and I am so delighted that the two of you are able to be friends again like you always should have been all along, aaaa. I could not be more proud of my boy.

(Well, I could go into a lot more detail about just how proud of and happy I am for Kieran thanks to all of his scenes in the epilogue and postgame. But that’s enough of its own separate Thing that it ought to get its own post! So hold on for that; I’m not quite done having So Many Feelings about this boy just yet. Aaand here it is!)

#pokemon #pokemon sv #pokemon scarlet and violet #the indigo disk #the hidden treasure of area zero #pokemon kieran #kieran pokemon #trainer kieran #rival kieran #champion kieran #character analysis #ramble #my buttons #friends

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