#things won't ever change if you just force hate onto someone else

[calliopeslyrics]

i won't say (im in love)

pairing: luke castellan x daughter of Aphrodite!reader, wc: 5.1k

no warnings, just some kissing and miscommunication. this is my first fic ever :)

_

You didn’t believe in love at first sight. 

It was so cliche, always the same story whenever you asked a couple how they met. In fact, you thought that anyone who said they fell in love at the first sight of their significant other was lying through their teeth. You were pretty sure most of the couples at camp were forcing it, there was no way everyone had a crush on someone else from another cabin except you.

It was no secret that you were a hater, as some of your half siblings would say, always making a comment about every couple that passed your way. It seemed ironic - the daughter of Aphrodite detesting love. But it wasn’t like you had many choices to begin with. The dating pool within Camp Half Blood was lacking, to say the least.

There was Chris Rodriguiz, always hanging around his half-siblings in the Hermes cabin or strolling beside Clarisse. He was a decent fighter, strong willed and determined, and his smile never seemed coy like his half-siblings. But with the daughter of Ares always around, you doubted Clarisse would appreciate your sudden interest in her buddy, especially after the Ghost King incident.

Then there was Charles Beckendorf, a son of Hephestus who was sweeter than he seemed. He was nice to talk to, more of an attentive listener than talker, though you didn’t mind his silent company. Although you found Charles nice to look at, there was nothing else that interested you in him. He seemed more interested in his machinery and staying within the forgery, especially since you’ve caught him eyeing your half sister Silena a couple of times during dinner.

And finally, there’s Luke Castellan, head of the Hermes cabin and your number one hater. You’re not sure when he first started to hate you, though you could only count the number of decent interactions you shared on one hand. He used to be close with you, always guiding you through the countless camp activities and even teaching you his sword fighting tricks.

He was your first friend at Camp Half Blood, the first one to greet you with a welcoming smile and treat you like you’re normal. Luke didn’t mind that you were unclaimed and shared a cabin with his half siblings, always reminding you that his father Hermes protected the travelers and roads.

Luke never seemed to realize the effect he had on you. You weren’t sure what it was, if you were clinging onto the first person that showed you basic human decency or if you really were warming up to him.

You remembered how quickly things changed between you two, how you became friends to strangers within an instant. It always haunts your mind, the same situation happening over and over again in your dreams and nightmares as if the gods wanted to punish you with the failure of your only friendship.

Luke was fixing your armor during your sword lessons, his hands expertly tucking in the straps and buckles that you had awkwardly put on. It was the same routine - he’d fix your armor and playfully tug at your chest armor, asking if it felt comfortable. You’d tug at Luke’s armor in return with a teasing smile and nod, both of you 

You remember glancing up at him, noting how gently he was with you as he guided your hands along the hilt of your sword. His hands were rough and calloused, most likely from the years of training he had at camp. But when his fingers gently traced along yours, fixing your grip and adjusting your position, you could’ve sworn he was being softer on purpose.

You knew of his reputation at camp, word spread about the best swordsman at camp as soon as you arrived. And you’ve seen how Luke trained with the more advanced campers, directing orders sternly as if he were commanding an army of men rather than abandoned half-bloods. But with you, Luke was always kind and gentle, never raising his voice or handling you with roughness like his with the other demigods.

It felt nice, normal almost, to have someone to help you when you first arrived at camp. Still unclaimed and unsure, you were able to find solace and comfort in Luke’s presence. He was smart and kind, so willing to help the new campers find their way amongst Camp Half Blood’s many opportunities for glory.

Luke always spoke to you in a soft voice, kind and patient, as he instructed you. Raise your arms, grip the hilt tighter, and slash the dummy. When you followed his lead, Luke gave you a small smile of approval and helped you get back into position. The summer sun burned brighter and you could’ve sworn you felt yourself grow hotter as well.

And then it happened. 

A thick, red haze enveloped all around you, fogging your vision as the sound of a woman’s sweet laughter filled your head. The smell of roses surrounded you, so strong and intense, and yet you couldn’t do anything but wave away the thick haze that blocked your surroundings.

You felt different within the haze, your regular training armor felt silky and lighter and your hair no longer felt damp with sweat. It was as if you were changed into a different body completely, no longer awkward but confident and sure.

“What’s happening?” you asked, coughing as the haze began to fade. A crowd of campers had entered the sword fighting area at some point, watching you as if you were the designated entertainment for the night. Maybe you were, if the gods felt vicious enough to make you pay for your right to earn a heritage.

Luke’s eyes never left your face, his mouth parted slightly in shock as he just looked at you. A shocked gasp from the crowd of campers had you glancing over at them in confusion. And then you saw it - your reflection in one of the camper’s sunglasses.

A pink hue surrounded your body, following your every movement. Your hair was braided with gold strands woven between your strands of hair. Your armor was replaced with a white sleeveless gown that stopped at your ankles, showing off golden sandals that wrapped along your ankles and up your shins like delicate vines. Your makeup was done flawlessly, not a single smudge on your new winged eyeliner or glossy lips despite the training you had done just moments ago.

“You’ve been claimed,” Luke said, his voice still soft and filled with disbelief. You flushed under Luke’s intense stare and you glanced away, meeting the stares of the other campers around you. “By Aphrodite, goddess of love and beauty, the laughter loving goddess.”

Ever since that day, Luke had avoided you as if you had the plague. He avoided you during your shared archery and pegasus riding lessons, hardly sparing you a glance when you struggled with your gear over and over again. During dinner, he sits with his back turned towards you, never moving from his seat until you finally leave. Even during the nightly campfire visits feel awkward when the son of Hermes is looking everywhere but your direction while the children of Apollo are leading the singalong.

Even after your blessing had worn off and your makeup eventually smudged again and you stopped smelling like fresh roses, Luke still made the effort to avoid you entirely. You tried approaching him during sword fighting lessons and walking by the Hermes cabin when you were ready for the day to no avail. It was as if he were never there anymore, disappearing when you entered a room and reappearing right when you left.

It took every bit of courage you had within yourself to go to your half siblings one night, bitterly ranting about Luke’s sudden change in demeanor. In true fashion, all of your siblings gathered around your bunk bed, the love experts of Cabin 10  listening intently to your ramblings even as curfew was set into place and Silena was supposed to call for lights out a while ago. 

“He’s definitely avoiding you,” Silena commented with confidence after hearing your complaints. You let out an annoyed huff as you picked out a nail polish from one of the hanging racks along the walls, distracting yourself with the bottle as your half-siblings murmured in agreement. “Guys do that when they don’t know what to do with themselves,”

“But I didn’t do anything to him!” you huffed, shaking the nail polish a few times before opening the bottle. Silena stayed silent as you started on your left hand, carefully painting your nails a sparkling pink color. You stared at the sparkles now adorning your nails, shining brightly against the pink of your freshly painted nails, and thought of how your mother’s blessing ruined everything. 

A comfortable silence fell amongst your siblings, all of them watching you with intensity. It was as if they were waiting for you to say something else, to add more to your story. You glanced up from your nails and raised an eyebrow at your siblings, waiting for more input about your lack of action.

“Maybe it's not you, maybe he’s just intimidated because of the blessing.” one of your sisters offered, her voice full of hope as if she were also trying to convince herself. You hummed in agreement, blowing at the nail polish as you stayed lost in thought.

There had to be a better reason, it didn’t seem like Luke to just stop talking to you because of a pink glow that followed you for a couple of days. He was smart, attentive, he had to have seen one of your other siblings get claimed in a similar way. It didn’t make sense that he would only avoid you.

What if he hated the way you looked after you received your blessing, what if the perfectly done makeup was too much? Doubt began to cloud your mind as small insecure thoughts filled your mind again. For the first time in weeks, you felt small and insignificant again, as if you were still the same unclaimed demigod that just entered camp.

“At the end of the day, he’s just a guy,” one of your brothers, Mitchell, added with a roll of his eyes. Your shared siblings hummed in agreement and began to conspire amongst themselves, sharing theories and stories about Luke’s sudden change. He always kept more to himself, hardly opening up to anyone but Annabeth Chase of the Athena cabin it seemed.

You let out a sigh of defeat and laid on your bed, staring at the pink ceiling above you. There wasn’t much for you to do, not when you had so many questions and hardly any answers. You hated this feeling, this uneasy feeling in your stomach like you did something bad. 

“So what am I supposed to do? Just be ignored by my only friend at camp?” you asked, almost annoyed. Your nail polish had dried on your left hand and you began to paint your other hand. Even distracted with anxious thoughts, your hand never shook as you expertly coated your nails with the nail polish - one of the many talents you had as a child of Aphrodite.

“You can pray to Mother,” one of your siblings suggested, glancing up at you through a skin care mask. You made a face but didn’t say anything else, not when your Mother could hear within your own cabin. It was your only hope, your only way to figure out why Luke was avoiding you all of a sudden and how you could fix this.

That night you put your favorite pair of shoes on your mother’s altar, an expensive pair of heels you had gotten for your birthday a couple years ago. You weren’t sure how to feel about asking for help when you had gone out of your way to detest the very thing your mother represented, though you were half hopeful that she’d at least hear your pleas for help. You never prayed to Aphrodite before, never really knew how to speak to the goddess that called herself your mother.

Sleep didn’t come easy to you. You tossed and turned all night, huffing in annoyance when you just couldn’t get comfortable in your own bed. You tried sleeping at an angle and on your side and on your back, but nothing seemed to lead to you exhaustion. It wasn’t until you finally looked out the window, gazing out at the Hermes cabin with a wistful sigh, that you felt your eyes grow heavy and heavy until you finally gave in to the lulling comfort of slumber.

The sound of soft waves crashing upon the shore filled your ears, the familiar scent of roses prominent once again. When you opened your eyes, you knew you were dreaming. You weren’t in your cabin anymore, now standing in ankle deep waves that never seemed to truly reach the beach.

You knew where you were, yet you didn't. Something within you longed to stay at this beach, to stay home. But this wasn’t your home, no. It was your mother’s, you were sure. Somehow you were in Cyprus.

Before you could open your mouth and call out for your mother, sea foam began to crash faster and faster upon the waves. The foam gathered along the sand and rocks, growing larger and larger until the foam blanketed along your feet and legs. From the horizon, you could see the same pink aura that had surrounded you when you first got claimed - Aphrodite’s blessing. 

Rising from the sea foam, your mother appeared before you, radiating nothing but pure loveliness and beauty. You glanced up at her in awe, you could see why gods and mortals alike fawned after the goddess for centuries.

Her appearance was infinite, constantly changing when every blink you took. One second she had honey brown eyes, another she had sea green eyes, then she had sky blue. Her hair flowed perfectly with an invisible breeze behind her. Curly blonde hair turned to straight black hair turned to coily hair, but you recognized her all the same. 

Aphrodite, goddess of love and beauty, your mother.

Your mother glanced down at you at last, a gentle smile on her red painted lips. Gods, she was so intimidatingly perfect, you weren’t sure if you were supposed to bow or kneel in her presence. “Child, you have rejected your heritage for so long,” she said, her voice soft and lovely. But you could hear the slight annoyance in her tone, as if she were waiting for you to finally come to your senses.

You bowed your head and fiddled with your hands, playing with the golden rings that adorned your fingers. Your appearance had changed too, now dressed in the very outfit your mother had given you when she claimed you. “I know, I’m sorry….mom…” you said softly, almost embarrassed. You really didn’t want your first interaction with your mother to be a lecture.

Aphrodite said nothing, still staring down at you with her ever changing eyes. Centuries worth of knowledge swirled within her irises, knowledge of ancient lovers and broken hearts beckoning you closer. You wondered what appearance she took when she met your father, if she even took a mortal appearance. “Your heart is not happy,” she said at last, confident and all knowing.

“How do you know?” you asked, almost defensively. You were plenty happy. You enjoyed strawberry picking with the children of Demeter, you enjoyed teaching the younger campers how to make friendship bracelets before dinner, you enjoyed the karaoke competitions with the children of Apollo when it was one of their birthdays. 

You were plenty happy at camp, you told yourself, you just needed help. Platonic help with a friend. 

Your mother tilted her head at you slightly, raising a perfectly sculpted eyebrow at you. She looked like one of those rich moms that stayed at home, silently judging your question like the answer was obvious.“Your heart is not happy,” she repeated in the same tone, as if it were enough to answer your question. 

“I didn’t come to ask about my love life, I just need some advice.” You said, your cheeks heating up at her statement. Maybe your mother was confused, maybe you should’ve prayed to one of her children instead. Romance and friendship were often confused, you told yourself, maybe she thought you wanted relationship advice. “My….friend, Luke, won’t talk to me anymore. Ever since I got claimed it’s like he wants nothing to do with me.”

Aphrodite stayed quiet for a moment, her body still changing and glowing as she stayed lost in thought. You didn’t know where to look, at her perfect face or perfect body, still adorned in a similar gown to yours. She radiated pure confidence, casually posed as the sea foam still gathered around your feet.

“Have you heard of Pygmalion and Galatea?” she asked, looking out into the distance of the sea. A distant look clouded her face, as if she were remembering how long ago she met the couple. You didn’t bother wondering how long ago those people lived.

You racked your brain for those familiar names, you knew them from somewhere. Lovers, they had to be lovers. But from where, you didn’t remember. Memories of ancient myths filled your mind. Eros and Psyche, Orpheus and Eurydice, Pyramus and Thisbe, but no recollection of a Pygmalion and Galatea. 

The image of a statue of a woman so perfectly made that she was almost human came to your mind. Beside the statue was a man, tenderly tracing along her arms, her waist, her neck, as if she were his lover. “He fell in love with his statue, right?” you asked suddenly, the myth coming to mind. You had remembered now, a man painfully in love with something that couldn’t love him back, a tragic tale.

“After detesting marriage for so long, yes.” Aphrodite answered fondly, as if she were amused by the story. Perhaps she was, you knew of her resentment for those who openly despised love itself. “But his heart was not happy alone, and he wanted the perfect woman to be beside him - his own creation.”

You stayed silent for a while, unsure of how to respond. What did this have to do with Luke? Was he the sculptor and you the statue? That didn’t seem motivating, though you doubted your mother knew what it felt to be on the other side of unrequited feelings. “You turned his statue into a real woman after he prayed to you, when he finally fell in love though.”

Aphrodite turned to you, a small smirk on her lips. She looked at you as if waiting for you to say something, to realize the point of this story. You blinked up at her, confusion still evident on your face. Maybe there was something wrong with you, maybe she accidentally claimed the wrong child. There was no way she was implying that this story reassembled your own problems.

“What does any of this have to do with me?” You asked finally. This was a mistake, you shouldn’t have listened to your half-siblings. Of course they would suggest you talk to your mother, they all were in relationships. They probably got a better blessing, getting a gift of successful love lifes while all you got were steady hands when you did your nails and makeup.

“A hardened heart does not open for opportunity,” she said, flashing eyes turning to yours. Her eyes were gray now, resembling some of the children of Athena with that knowing look in her eyes. Was she trying to tell you that Luke’s heart was rejecting you?

As if she could read your mind, Aphrodite shook her head. She gave you a pointed look, now dark brown eyes staring directly at you. Your heart skipped a beat at the intense gaze of your mother, it was exactly how Luke looked at you when your first got claimed. Gods, were you really getting flustered over a single glance?

“Not Luke’s heart,” she said, her voice fading as the waves stopped moving. The sea foam slowly melted into the waves, taking your mother with them. She gave you a sympathetic look, as if she didn’t want to leave so soon. But she was a busy goddess, you understood, love waits for no one. “Your brother has done his part, it is up to you to do yours.”

You woke up with a start, your shirt sticking to your back as you sat up from your bed. Below you, one of your siblings groaned in their sleep before their soft breathing resumed. Soft, classical music played from someone’s side of the cabin, though you didn’t mind this particular song.

Your brother has done his part, what was that supposed to mean? You sighed as you wiped your brow, sweat sliding along your forehead. Gods above, how long were you sweating in your sleep?

Carefully, you got off of your bunk bed, your feet softly padding along the cabin floor as you grabbed your slippers from the shoe rack. No one stirred from their slumber, and you silently celebrated as you double checked you were the only one awake in the cabin. The moon was still overhead, the moonlight pouring into the pink stained glass of your cabin and dancing along the countless crystal chandeliers. 

A walk wouldn’t hurt, you told yourself as you quietly tiptoed out of your cabin. You just needed to clear your head, dreams were often filled with messages that were difficult to understand.

You kept to the trails that were long walked upon before you first arrived to camp. The moonlight illuminated the camp, no need for any lanterns or fire as you made your way past the other cabins. Neatly made paths guided you from the common area to the sword fighting arena, an old habit. You hadn't realized you were standing at the entrance until soft footsteps followed behind you then stopped.

With a quick glance, you turned to face whoever was behind you, ready to make up an excuse for your late night stroll. You weren’t even properly dressed, still in your pajamas and fluffy slippers. Instead of facing Mr. D or even Chiron, you met a familiar face. Curly brown hair, now unruly and tussled, and soft brown eyes met yours. 

You didn’t believe in love at first sight. 

Until you met Luke Castellan. 

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asked, his voice low and raspy. You nodded, suddenly shy. Maybe if you didn’t speak, Luke wouldn’t recognize your voice and avoid you again. He ran a hand through his curls, letting out a soft yawn as he rubbed at his face and slowly woke up.

You stood still, unwilling to ruin this moment. You didn’t even know what to say to him, how nice of you to talk to me again sounded snarky and why haven’t you approached me sounded clingy. Gods, what did your mother tell you again? Something about you needing to do your part? You didn’t even know what brother she was talking about either, though you were sure Mitchell didn’t have any part of her plan.

“I just needed some air,” you said softly, daring a glance up at him. He was a couple feet away from you, the moon shining upon him as if Artimes herself gave him a spotlight. His beaded necklace was half tucked into his shirt, almost as if he were in a hurry to get changed, though you paid it no mind. You weren’t the best dressed at the moment either.

It was quiet again, neither of you saying a word. Somewhere in the distance, a hellhound howled. Shifting your weight from one foot to another, you glanced away from Luke. If he didn’t want to say anything else, you wouldn’t either. 

A hardened heart does not open for opportunity, your mother’s voice echoes in your mind, reminding you with a mockingly sweet voice. You scowled at the reminder and made a mental note to grab your shoes from her altar when you returned to your cabin.

“How have you been?” you asked, looking back at Luke. You let out a small breath, your heart pounding wildly as he looked back at you. Did he always look at you like that? As if you had given him the moon and stars and everything in between? “I haven’t seen you in a while.”

Luke flushed at your question, rubbing a hand behind his neck. For once, Luke looked unsure. Gone was the confident camper that always had an answer for everything, ready to comfort the newbies and unclaimed demigods alike. “I’ve been alright. Nothing interesting has happened, you know.”

You nodded in understanding. The days leading up to Spring were often dull, with most activities halting to a stop until the Sun could shine again and give comfort to the campers of the earth gods and goddesses. Even some of the Apollo kids were complaining of the lack of warmth in the camp lately, though Mr. D chalked it up to them being dramatic as usual.

“I heard you were training that Jackson kid,” you said softly, raising an eyebrow at Luke. He smiled at the mention of the newest camper, a blond haired kid barely the age of 12 that had apparently killed the minotaur right before he arrived. “I heard he gave Clarisse a nasty drench in the bathroom.”

Luke huffed out a laugh, covering his hand as the sound echoed around the arena. You smiled at the sound, you forgot how nice the feeling was to make him laugh like this. “How did you know about that?” he asked when his laughter had subsided. 

You gave him a small shrug, though a playful smile tugged at your lips. It felt so easy to fall back into normalcy with Luke, as if there were never any problems between you at all. “Gossip spreads. People talk when they're getting facials, you know.” you said with a smile.

Another laugh came from Luke and you prided yourself in making him laugh twice in a row. You were sure you’d be caught by now, the noise echoing around the arena. The ears of the monsters on patrol were always precise, though you hadn’t heard the hellhound from earlier since you arrived at the arena.

“Can I ask you something?” Luke took a small step toward you. You nodded, taking in a small breath as he slowly stepped closer and closer to you. He stopped right in front of you, where you could faintly make out the scar along his cheek. It took all of your effort to not reach out and trace it, just to hold his cheek in your own hands. “Do you believe in love at first sight?”

You nodded again, “I do, actually.” Tilting your head up to get a better view of Luke, you noted all the small details of his face. His dimples never left as he smiled at you, light freckles dusted his cheeks from grueling days in the sun. A soft pink blush spread along his face, and his eyes looked at you and only you. “Do you?”

“I do.”

A comfortable silence fell between you again, and you took in a shuddering breath. He was close, so close to your face, almost inches away from sharing the same breath as you. “Can I ask you a question?” you asked, glancing up at him through your lashes. “Do you feel like-”

“You’ve been shot by Eros’s arrow?” Luke gave you a small smile, leaning in ever so slightly until his lips met yours. He tasted like sweet ambrosia, addicting and inviting, and you leaned closer to get another taste before he could pull away. You wanted more, more, more until there was nothing left for Luke to give you, and he seemed willing to give you everything you wanted.

A small huff left your lips when Luke eventually pulled away, panting slightly and blushing profusely. “Took you long enough,” you said softly, your own cheeks burning. You couldn’t believe your own mother, much less your godly half sibling. You made a mental note to offer some of your favorite chocolates to them both as a thanks for helping you out.

Luke let out a chuckle, brushing some hair away from your face with a fond smile. He looked good like this, happy and relaxed without the weight of his burdens filling his mind. You wished you could make him happy like this forever.

“Sorry for avoiding you,” he said softly, his voice barely a whisper. His fingers gently traced along your cheeks, your jaw, your lips. He gently wiped his thumb along the corner of your mouth, and your heart fluttered at the slight touch. “I thought…you wouldn’t want to be seen with me after getting claimed.” “Why wouldn’t I want to be seen with you?” you asked, tilting your head in confusion. You grabbed his hand, gently interlacing your fingers with his and giving his hand a gentle squeeze. He returned the gesture, squeezing your hand back as he stared at your hands. 

“I didn’t think you wanted to have me when you looked so…” Luke blushed slightly, and you covered your mouth to hide your smile. Perhaps your siblings were right, perhaps he truly was intimidated by your mother’s blessing. “You just looked so beautiful, and I didn’t know if you wanted someone better, someone fit for a daughter of Aphrodite.”

“Luke,” you said softly, giggling slightly at his reluctance to meet your gaze. You gently cupped his cheek with your hand, your thumb tracing the scar along his face. Luke leaned into your touch slightly, and you gently kissed his scarred cheek once, twice, three times. “Shut up.”

Luke smiled at your response, moving his face to meet your lips instead. His hands found their place at your hips, pulling you closer to him. Beneath the milky twilight of the moon’s shine, you wrapped your arms around Luke's neck, tiptoeing to reach his height as your lips molded against his once more.

You didn’t care about getting caught, you didn’t care about the footsteps that seemed to lead towards the arena when Luke chased your lips like he needed salvation. You’d worry about your punishment tomorrow, whether it was an extra month of kitchen duty or losing desert privileges, you didn't care. Not when Luke was holding you so tenderly, kissing you like it was the only thing he was made for on this Earth.

You used to say you didn’t believe in love at first sight, but that was before you met Luke Castellan.

[my-pjo-stuff]

The most braindead take I ever must have seen in the PJO fandom is people giving Luke shit for "abandoning" Chris in the labyrinth.

Because Luke didn't abandon SHIT. Chris was out on a mission to get Ariadne's string in the Labyrinth! That mission went south when Minos drove the guy insane. We have every reason to believe that Chris went in there willingly. Because it was a MISSION. A mission Luke most definitely never went on himself, since he was sort of preoccupied with, yk- LEADING AND ORGANIZING THE ARMY AND PREPPING TO BECOME KRONOS' VESSLE. (For those getting mad at Luke for not going with Chris- bffr he has better stuff to do. He's not only the leader of the TA and also will be Kronos' vessle. You really thinking Kronos would allow his body to possibly get lost in some random labyrinth when someone else could do the job just as well? And that's ignoring Luke'd duties as a leader and top dog of the TA he also can't just abandon)

Luke would have abandoned Chris if he was on the mission too and just ditched him once he went insane, or if Chris sent out a distress signal and Luke decided to never go rescue him. Neither applies here. Everyone in the TA and CHB knew that a war was brewing! Chris was most CERTAINLY aware of the risks- for all the TA knows Chris was either still navigating the labyrinth while he was in CHB or dead. They never "abandoned" ANYONE.

Because by that logic that would mean that Chiron would also have abandoned all the campers who went on missions or quests and died from it 'cause something went wrong, BECAUSE THAT'S EXACTLY WHAT HAPPENED TO CHRIS. No one ever thought about or could have foreseen Chris going crazy. That was NEVER the plan! A mission went south and ended badly, that's just what happens sometimes in this world! And everyone knows it! Would CHB have abandoned Percy and Annabeth had their quest into the labyrinth gone wrong? Well if we go by the logic of some fans they would have. 'Cause nothing else happened to Chris. And now if people come here and say "yeah, well- Chris was still a child and shouldn't have been sent off into the labyrinth in the first place" First off, NO SHIT SHERLOCK! It's not like the fact that it's wrong for demigods to be used as child soldiers is a major reason for Luke to revolt in the first place! Not like IT'S CANONICALLY ADDRESSED THAT DEMIGOD LIVES ARE DANGEROUS AND ARE USED AS CANON FODDER BY GODS.

Luke frankly said doesn't have any other fucking choice! ALL demigods are young as fuck BECAUSE they die so young- there are no older people around to do it! The TA reasons that they have to change this now and have danger in their lives now so they can build a better future where that won't be a thing anymore! (If you try to go, "well he could have sent a monster-" bffr we all know that A) those guys are NOT smart enough to navigate the labyrinth on average and B) the few that are are not only very rare but generally also high ranking) Second off, please keep that energy up with everyone else! You're gonna judge Chiron and the gods too for sending even YOUNGER kids to do even more DANGEROUS stuff? Where are you talking about CHB making Luke go on his Ladon quest (all alone for all we know) at 17? Chris was 15 in BotL as far as I know, only 2 years younger? Where is the hate on the gods for forcing the Master Bolt quest onto Percy at the age of 12? That was equally (if not more) dangerous as the labyrinth!

Like, listen: If you dislike Luke, be my guest! As much as I love him I can easily see why people might not have the best of opinions on him. He did lots of fucked stuff- but for the love of GOD be reasonable if you want to give us reason why you dislike him! Which, by the way, isn't neccesary! You can just- dislike characters because you dislike them. No moral reasoning needed. All I ask of people is that they are fair and reasonable when they give moral reasons for not liking someone. Because the claim that "Luke abandoned Chris in the labyrinth" is just straight up garbage if you even think about it a little bit.

[corawithfanfiction]

✯ Flawless - Sebastian Stan

light em up, I'm on fire

my materialist - it is a man's man's world

Warnings and Information:

First of all, hello to all of you,

there are a couple of things I want to mention before we start the story.

Nora is a character I created myself. I based her character profile on Taylor Hill and Daisy Edgar Jones, but it is up to you to imagine her as you wish throughout the story :)

Nora first appeared on the Victoria's Secret Show in 2013. Taylor Hill made her debut on this runway in 2014. So, I will make some changes about the 2013 runway. I tried to go as close to real life as possible, but as I said, I want to focus on a specific period of time, so I won't bore you with too many details.

✯

12 November 2013

norawalter: Guys, my first Victoria Secret show is tomorrow! I'm nervous and excited, so how can we fix this? We're having a party! Also, would you look at this dessert I found @imsebastianstan 💙

1,212,341 likes - 45,234 comments

anthonymackie: You have a big ass forehead. Even your little move doesn't help you 🤯

Stansoldier : OMG LOL!!!

imsebastianstan: @anthonymackie Shut up. Also, you're gonna be amazing this weekend babe. love you.

modelingmag : SEEING THE TWO OF YOU TOGETHER!!!!

marveleus: oh guys this show is going to be BEAUTIFUL

chrisevans: did I hear someone say that Sebastian has a big forehead? i can confirm…

chacecrawford: agree

blakelively: I agree too

doritoevans: Seb being attacked by GG and Marvel is hilarious

imsebastianstan: I hate you all 😒

✯

I took another sip of the liquid in the black cup, my nerves loosening with each sip. “Look at that, ma'am, you're not even legal yet” Sebastian chuckled as he wrapped his arm around my waist. I rested my head on his shoulder and closed my eyes, chuckling shyly.

“Shut up. Are you going to hand me over to the authorities?” I kept giggling and Sebastian was laughing with me. He could tell I was uncomfortable.

“I'm scared out of my mind.” I agreed with a suddenly defeated expression. When I met Seb's blue-gray eyes, his gaze melted and he gently ran his fingers through my hair.

“Hello, beautiful girl.” He said and took me by the hand and led me out onto the balcony overlooking the city. My breath caught in my throat at the view, the glass of liquid courage slipped through my fingers.

“Hey…” I backed away slowly, but my attempt resulted in me being pulled into Sebastian's chest. His hands grasped my hands and wrapped them around his neck, moving his own hands to settle on my waist.

“Just rock with me,” he murmured, resting his forehead against mine. The music from inside rippled gently through the air, reaching us both. Sebastian always knew how to calm my nerves. He was the absolute best at it.

“I'm proud of you, you're going to do great things out there tomorrow.” He whispered in my ear, kissed my forehead sweetly. I smiled half-heartedly. Tomorrow I would walk in my first Victoria Secret fashion show, a moment I had dreamed of all my life, ever since I saw all the Angels in the magazines. My youthful dreams had prepared me for today.

I was jolted out of my thoughts by the feeling of Sebastian's fingers on my thighs causing me to turn and look at him.

“Thank you,” I whispered, hugging him tightly.

“I will always be here for you, darling.” He promised me, throwing his head back as his lips captured mine. I completely dissolved in his hands, my body becoming an absolute dead weight. Something about Sebastian's lips made me lose every thought and focus only on the here and now. The way his mouth molded to my lips.

I prayed that no one else would have this privilege.

I wanted him forever. But apparently I was a sinful person, because I didn't know that years later my prayers would not be answered.

✯

“Where the hell is he?” Anthony Mackie said, tapping Sebastian on the shoulder, forcing him back to reality. The three of them sat together at a high table, drinks in hand.

Chris's blue orbs looked into his friend's eyes as he sipped his drink, shaking his head. “Are you faking dating the woman you cried with?” he asked, Sebastian's eyes shooting daggers in his direction.

“She didn't cry.” Said Anthony sarcastically, defensively.

“RDJ said he witnessed it with his own eyes.” Chris pulled out his phone, pretending to dial Robert's number. “Should I put him on the phone to confirm?”

Sebastian rolled his eyes and sipped his drink. He slid it across the table and decided it was best to keep it at one. He really didn't want to show up drunk at this show. Nora hated him enough as it was.

“I know, it's stupid, I shouldn't have agreed, but the payoff sounded good. If I could deal with him for three years, why not six months?”

He shrugged as if that was the perfect reason behind it. Chris and Anthony exchanged a warning look before looking at Sebastian, who had the ever-present scowl on his face.

“Why would you fake flirt with the woman you claim cheated on you?” Chris asked him.

“Sebastian, you two were poisoned. I don't know when or how, but I still remember the day she yelled at you when you walked out of the red carpet at the Civil War premiere.”

Anthony interjected. “And I remember walking in on you making a phone call to the modeling agency telling them to let her go.”

Sebastian grimaced. He hated that he had done this to Nora, but Nora was mad at him because of that redhead in Romania. Contrary to Nora's insane belief, he had never cheated.

“Don't remind me of that,” Sebastian growled.

“You still don't love this woman, do you? What happened to Alejandra?” Anthony asked.

Sebastian laughed. “I never did. And we're still talking. Our two PR people said we could date other people, it was just supposed to be done behind closed doors.”

Chris clapped his hands with a laugh, getting serious again. “And do you really think you can go behind the back of the press and date another woman? They'll catch you and then they'll really realize it was a publicity stunt.”

Sebastian avoided speaking, looking at the time on his phone. “Alright guys, I think it's time we go watch a fashion show. Maybe we can have a round later.” Anthony and Chris grinned as they sipped the rest of their drinks. They both paid and left, heading to the Manhattan Center, where tonight's fashion show would be held.

✯

13 November 2013

I watched Fall Out Boy enter the stage and perform my songs know what you did in the dark. Taylor Swift was also there to perform that night and my nerves were on edge, the anxiety building by the second. I knew Sebastian was front and center at the end of the line and I knew that the moment my eyes met his, my worries would evaporate.

The first leg of the show was themed around the British Invasion. I'd always been fascinated by the city, and thankfully I was able to visit during the summer right after my first show to do some modeling for a magazine that was coming out soon. Marissa and I traveled often with any free time we had. We were good tourists together.

As soon as the chorus sounded, I got ready to go out, and Candice, wearing this year's fantasy bra, was the first to come out. Even though she didn't have wings in this costume, she looked gorgeous. After all, who needs a pair of wings when her team is gone? Behati stepped on stage right after her, followed by another model and soon it was my turn. Cara Delevingne was right in front of her, she had the cutest number. She posed and then Patrick made the expected announcement and Taylor Swift came on stage. The cheers of the crowd filled my ears as she and Cara did the moves they had practiced for days. I walked behind Cara, careful not to let the loud noise distract me. The stage sparkled and I offered my best flirtatious smile and did my best walk.

When I reached the end of the track, I caught a glimpse of her. She clapped the hardest, her gaze cheered me up and I easily caught the cheer of “That's my girl” that instantly dispelled my previous stresses.

✯

“You look stunning!” Marissa exclaimed, holding my hands. I was getting ready for the show and now I was taken back to that special night in New York just eight years ago. A time when I was undeniably happy. I heard both of our names being called, that's how it usually went. Marissa would go out first, and I would go out for the closing from far behind.

“Did you forget to tell me my ass looks great?” Marissa yelled at me.

I laughed, winked.

“As long as you remember to look back at mine.”

Marissa put herself forward, giving me a high five.

As I was breathing in and out, preparing myself, I saw a reporter with a camera backstage.

“Rumor has it that Nora Walter and Sebastian Stan are back together! Sebastian's as well as Nora's fans absolutely went wild when they were spotted arriving together at the Manhattan Center earlier this evening. Hopefully, when the shows are over, we can get confirmation from both stars.”

I rolled my eyes and grimaced at this remark, I hated this so much.

When it was my turn, I stepped outside and the cheers spread throughout the venue. I put on my best smile, strutting with absolute precision. After mastering the modeling world, walking had become second nature. I could easily do it in my sleep.

I kept a serious expression on my face as I made my way to the edge, but towards the end I added a coy grin as my eyes fell on the three men sitting to my left.

Anthony Mackie, Chris Evans and him.

Chris and Anthony clapped their hands with smiles on their faces, Sebastian put on his best fake smile, keeping my eyes focused on me.

Eight years ago, he would sit on the edge of the catwalks and worship me.

Now, he was sitting there, pretending he didn't recognize me at all.

To say that I felt a pain in my chest was an understatement, but who cares? The money, fame and fortune that would come out of it had to be worth something, right? The night went on and when the show was over I started to feel sick. Every time I circled around, Sebastian would be sitting right there with the same expression.

We had been through so much, you two, and this is how he was acting?

When I went backstage, I felt tears prickling my eyes in my dressing room. I sat in the long black chair, my eyes staring at my reflection in the mirror.

I heard the door open and I immediately looked at the door with my usual expression. His hair, which had been messed up by his hands several times, and those crystal blue eyes met mine, forming his lips into a tight line.

“Ha, you didn't fall on your face.” Sebastian laughed and closed the door.

“If you're here to be rude, then fuck off,” I growled.

Sebastian shook his head.

“Why do you always have to be so hostile? What did I do that was so bad?”

My eyes widened, my posture straightened.

“We've been through this a thousand times, Sebastian!” “You cheated, I made a scene, you got me fired from the modeling agency, I classified you as a prostitute, you pushed, I pushed back!” I stepped closer.

Sebastian watched me closely, realizing how close I was getting to him.

“And let's not forget that you almost ruined every fucking relationship I had after you!” “Douglas Booth, Sam Reid, Daniel Sharman but let's not name the others because then you'll call me a slut.”

Sebastian didn't change his expression. He glued his hard eyes on me, making me feel like he was squeezing my soul.

“Chris was right.” He sighed. “We were toxic.” I scoffed.

“All because of you.” Seb pointed at me. “I wasn't cheating on you when I didn't answer your calls, I wasn't cheating on you when I didn't come home some weekends because of filming, I wasn't cheating on you when I was in Romania with my family!” He yelled, throwing back all the times I blamed him.

Laughing at this, he wiped his eyes.

“Ah, but that sweet little redhead on the boat in Romania was part of it too, wasn't she?” I threw my head back.

“I never cheated on you.” He said, opening the door. “I could never have imagined that. To think I bought your fucking engagement ring too.” She giggled and widened her eyes.

“What? An engagement ring?”

Sebastian shook his head.

“Who cares now, Nora?”

He closed the door hard and scared me.

That's when the tears filled my eyes even more and I walked over to the chair, climbing into it. My head fell into my hands as sobs shook my shoulders and made me want to scream.

How could he?

✯

14 Novemeber 2013

imsebastianstan: I'm so proud of this beautiful woman, she stole the show. #FavoriteAngel

1,344,183 likes - 50,234 comments

robertdowneyjr: How much did he pay you to write this?

username1: he is very impressive

chrishemsworth: It's like yesterday you were next to me squirting on her… at a fashion show 🤧

username2: I'M NOT THE ONLY ONE WHO SEES YOU WRITE FAVORITE ANGEL… NOT?!!!!!

marissalewis: @robertdowneyjr If I were Nora I would slap you

norawalter: Just wait, RDJ. I'm kicking your door 😘

TAG LIST:

@mentallyscreamingsincebirth @putherup @corawithfanfiction @vladsgirlxx

@iamaslytherin0 @sexualparkour @the-universe-is-complicated @heavenly-bratt

@lafemme-nk @namiusedbubble @useyourwandbro @strmborns @literally-lani

@virgosapphire79 @star-girl-04 @veyzus @ddipotassium @pecxiebu @mil88691 @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @katifefe @sn0wybowie-blog

@moochiester @zizuras @blackbluerose666 @rosecoloureddudez @sebastians-love @sebastian-warneke @kingkat12 @bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky

[wwinterwitch]

high infidelity — jack russell

summary: the heir of ulysses bloodstone has fallen for a monster pairing: jack russell x fem!bloodstone!reader word count: 3k tags: song fic, cheating, arranged marriage, family trauma, angst and fluff, happy ending (let me know if anything else should be added!) note: inspiration came from high infidelity by taylor swift, hence the name of this fic!

a reblog and/or comment really helps me out as a content creator so thank you in advance if you take the time to do either!

navigation | marvel masterlist

You were miserable. Having to live in a mansion all by yourself, surrounded only by employers and your horrible stepmother. Forced to be a hunter because it was expected of you from the moment you were born.

As the daughter of Ulysses Bloodstone, you had to aspire to perfection. Nothing you ever accomplished seemed to be good enough, so you always had to just do better. From a very young age, you were reminded that no accomplishment will ever be enough.

There was no escape from your inevitable destiny. It doesn't matter if you want this life or not. You had to become a hunter and you must live up to your name. Had to make your father proud. Had to prove you're truly worthy of your birthright.

And you did, especially after your older sister fled and it was only you to continue the legacy. The entire pressure on your shoulders.

Maybe you should've escaped like she did. You'd be so much happier anywhere but here, but for some reason you stayed. Motivated by the ridiculous sense of responsibility, the love you had for your father despite his many flaws, or because this life is all you've ever known...you never knew what made you stay, but you did. And now you're doomed.

No one around you is in your team. Your father is far too worried about other stuff to really care about you. Your stepmother only sees you as some sort of toy or tool, so you only ever exist when she needs something from you. Other hunters expect your downfall so they can take your place. Your sister left you behind and never tried to contact you. It's been you against the world all your life.

You found some hope and comfort, as twisted as it might sound, in the news your father shared with you over dinner just a few months before he passed away: someone was interested in asking for your hand in marriage.

Of course you hated the idea of an arranged marriage, but maybe whoever was asking to marry you could become a true partner, someone to really be there for you. It wasn't ideal, but at least you'll stop feeling alone. After years of feeling like no one was truly there, you were practically begging for someone to show the slightest interest in you. As bad as it sounds, you were just desperately trying to clung onto anyone willing to hold you.

Once again, you were met with disappointment. The only sentiment you're allowed to feel in this life, apparently.

You had to meet your soon-to-be husband at a very awkward dinner. He was very handsome and a skillful hunter, and he looked genuinely interested in you from the moment he laid eyes on you, but it was clear to you that his interest existed for all the wrong reasons. From the very first exchange, you knew that he only cares about your last name.

Still, you tried to make it work. Maybe he can be a decent partner. Maybe he changes and genuinely falls in love with you when he gets to know you. Maybe it won't be that bad.

But that mindset didn't last very long, because things are entirely different now. You can't marry him and you can't stand the idea of having to spend every single day with him. To wake up next to him, to have a family with him, to pretend you're content with your life. You don’t want to try to be okay with any of this anymore.

It's impossible to give him a chance when your heart already belongs to someone else.

Before your engagement was announced, you had the pleasure of crossing paths with Jack Russell. He attended a meeting at the mansion and you happened to meet him there. The two of you talked almost all night, exchanging glances and quick smiles whenever you weren't directly interacting.

That's how it started. That's how you met the most wonderful man in the entire world. The most caring, loving, compassionate and dedicated man. He was captivated by you the second he met you, and you finally felt like someone sees you for who you are. He was interested in you for all the right reasons, and there was no way of staying away from each other after that night.

The feeling of being around him was intoxicating. To finally discover someone who genuinely cares. It was like you were living in this terrible world where everything was dark and lacked meaning, and he was the one who brought light to even the darkest of corners.

Every second away from him was absolute torture, but since no one in your life seemed to care enough to keep track on you, it was easy to sneak behind everyone’s back and be with him. That would explain why neither of you are currently in the big hall with the rest of the hunters that your stepmother invited.

You excused yourself to go upstairs to your bedroom claiming you weren't feeling good. Not so long after, Jack casually had to answer a very important phone call that forced him to leave the room as well. Truth is, he was also making his way upstairs to your bedroom.

And right now, with his lips pressed to yours and your hands tangled in his hair, life just makes sense. It's like you're not even there until he's around. Only he has the power to make you feel like this. Like he's bringing you back to life from the torture that is being the heir of Ulysses Bloodstone.

Jack didn't care about anything that had to do with your family. His love and admiration for you is so much deeper than that. Your team of one was finally welcoming a new member that you wanted to keep next to you forever.

But even when things with Jack were incredible, you often found yourself still feeling miserable because you really want things to be different. It's him the one you want to spend the rest of your life with. You want to be the one he looks for in a crowded room. You want to be the one he holds close at night. You want to be his reason why life's worth living.

You don't want to be a leader, or a hunter, or an heir. Jack was able to change your entire perspective when it came to hunting, showing you just how mistaken you were about 'monsters'. Now, the mere idea of hunting makes you sick to your stomach.

Needless to say, it was quite a shock to find out you had fallen for a werewolf. It was almost ironic, in fact. He trusted you with his secret almost immediately, wanting you to know all there is about him from the start. The fact that he immediately trusted a secret like that to a Bloodstone proved just how much he didn't care about your upbringing. He knew you were one of the good ones, that was unlucky enough to be surrounded by bad guys, forced to learn to behave like one because that's all you knew. Evidently, you never broke that trust and you kept his secret.

Still, it was a very big confession that he just threw your way barely fazed by the caliber of his words. Only when he noticed your expression, he looked worried– scared, even. He'd always get insecure about this side of him, so he immediately feared you were going to push him away.

"I'm sorry, I–" Jack tried, hoping to be able to reason with you. "I just did what I thought was right. I don't want secrets between us."

"I...I just don't understand. Aren't you a hunter?" was all you had to say. "I mean, how is that possible?"

"Was my acting that good?" he tried to joke, just to make the situation less awkward. "I'm not a hunter. Never was, never will be."

It was very strange at first. You never saw it coming, though you appreciated the fact that he was so open about it and willing to tell you right away despite the dangers that came with it.

And you could practically hear the cries of horror coming from your family because you didn't try to kill him the second he revealed he's a werewolf. Your father was probably rolling in his grave because his successor is fraternizing with the enemy (and doing a lot more than just basic cordiality). They'd probably kill you too if they ever find out about this.

Not like you care much about consequences, anyway. Not when you have Jack by your side. Nothing else matters compared to him. And if anyone tries to hurt him, you'll do whatever it takes to keep him safe.

You were extremely grateful that he was there to show you an entirely new perspective. He introduced you to many of his friends, all of them much friendlier than all the hunters you've met (a statement that definitely includes your family too). Your eyes were open to a new reality and it made you realize the true monsters are the ones staring back at you every single day. Your fiancée, your stepmother, the large portrait of your father staring down at you from above the large fireplace in the living room.

But worst of all was realizing that there was also a monster staring back at you whenever you were standing in front of the mirror.

"This is horrible," you had commented once. It was only you and Jack walking across the forest. The two of you just visited a few of Jack's friends. that were attacked by hunters a few days ago and decided to hide for a little while. "They're trying to live their lives and we're out here hunting them just because we feel like it? Because someone said they're dangerous and we just ran with it? It's not fair."

"You're not like the others," he reminded you. "Even they can tell."

"Yeah, but I used to be," you sighed, wishing you could just turn back time. "I did a lot of things I'm not proud of, Jack. Things you'd hate me for, and you have all the right to."

Jack forced you to stop walking, gently grabbing your hand to turn you around so you could look at him. His eyes were as soft as ever as he stared back at you. "You have the kindest heart I've ever known, mi amor. It was you who told me not to let my killings define me because I don't know any better, and right now I think you should listen to your own words," he finished with a sympathetic smile.

You barely nodded, guilt and regret still eating you from the inside, your mind filled with all of these memories of who you used to be. "I'm so sorry..." you muttered as Jack immediately pulled you in for a hug. "I'm so sorry..." you repeated, wrapping your arms around him.

"It's okay, baby. It's okay..." he says in a gentle voice, trying his best to comfort you. "You were willing to see things in a new perspective and now you've changed. That's all that matters."

From that day on, you swore things will change when and if you take over. No more ruthless hunting, just when and if it's necessary. Just when there's really a beast that needs to be stopped, and even then maybe killing them is too much. There's got to be a much humane way of dealing with them.

It was unclear how you'd be able to make that happen but, again, with Jack by your side you feel pretty invincible.

Unfortunately, Jack couldn't stay upstairs with you for too long. You laid in bed, still thinking about him. His lips exploring your neck and his hands eagerly roaming over your body. He left just a few minutes ago but you already miss him like you haven't seen him in decades. It was getting harder not to be around him whenever you want, making you think to yourself as you lay there just how long you'll be able to pretend this hunter lifestyle isn't slowly killing you.

The next day was pretty uneventful. If you closed your eyes long enough, you could still feel Jack's hands gripping your hips and listen to his whispers as he verbalized his love for you in the forms of "you're beautiful", "I could stay here with you forever" and "when did I get so lucky?".

You were so lost in your thoughts that you barely noticed your fiancée walking inside the room you were in. Suddenly, the book you were holding was the most important thing as you tried to act like you were reading instead of daydreaming.

"Feeling better today?" he asks, a hint of venom in his words. You figured he was just a little upset because you left to go to bed early, which is not what ‘the heir’ should do.

"Yes, a lot better. Thank you," you replied, looking up at him to give him a fake smile before looking back down at your book. Despite thinking that was the end of that, he stood in front of you, forcing you to look up again. "Is there something else I can help you with?" you asked, a little irritated that he's just standing there staring at you.

He looked more frustrated than ever. "I'd appreciate it if you could just tell me the truth for once, you know?"

Your stomach dropped, but tried to act like you had no idea what he was talking about. "What is that supposed to mean?"

He scoffed almost immediately. "You really think I'm that stupid? That I don't see the way he looks at you? Or how you two are always sneaking around behind everyone's back every chance you get?"

To say you were surprised would be an understatement. He knows? Oh, of course he knows, how could he not? But still, you wonder...how long has he known about you and Jack?

Before you could even ask, your partner spoke again. "I know you're seeing him. I know you're with him when you claim to go out on a 'hunting trip'. I know he gave you that necklace you always wear. I know you always run to him whenever you have the chance." You sat there in front of him completely speechless, which only encouraged him to continue. "What, you're not even gonna try to deny it?"

There was a quick pause.

"You said you wanted me to tell you the truth," was your cryptic reply, shrugging.

"So you are seeing him."

"Would it make any difference if I try to convince you otherwise?"

"Not really, but it'd be nice to know that you care at least a little about me– about us."

"Us?” you immediately say, almost as if the word was insulting to hear. “There is no us, don't you see?"

He gave you a look that showed you exactly how hurt he was, but after all this time knowing him, you couldn't shake off the feeling that he's not exactly hurting because he's realizing he completely lost you. He just lost his prize. "I loved you. I've been trying to make this work for both of us."

Perhaps he didn't even realize how much you were hurting while being in this arrangement, and he probably hasn't realized he's been loving you the wrong way.

"You really think something good could ever come out of this? I knew you were going to be my husband before I even met you in person. Can't you see how fucked up that is? We've been forced into this, there's no way love– true love, can grow in these circumstances."

"So you had to run to him?" he snapped. "He showed you what 'true love' is? Is that it? He gave you everything I never will?"

"Why are we even doing this?" you snapped, getting frustrated. "Do you really want to know every little detail there is about me and Jack?"

"I think I've noticed enough," he replied. "I can't believe you were capable of this."

"Well, sorry for not living up to the idea you made up in your head when you decided you wanted to marry me."

"And what is that supposed to mean?"

"Did you ask my father to marry me because you actually wanted me, or was it because I was the easy way of accessing the Bloodstone legacy? Right now, to this day, the idea of permanently joining this family isn't one of the many reasons why you're here?" you confronted him, and obviously he didn't have much to say. "Haven't you been silent about me and Jack all this time just so you don't risk losing your place here?"

He didn't speak after that, so you stood up from your seat and walked closer to him. "I'm not proud of the way this unfolded, but Jack's the only person that has ever made me feel like I'm worth something beyond my last name and I deeply love him. What we have is the most precious thing I have right now, and I can't give that up."

His eyes traveled down to your hands when he noticed you were taking off your ring. You never really liked it anyway. Your stepmother picked it for you. Oh, how you absolutely despise that woman.

"Here," you continue as you hand him the ring, which he accepted with a perplexed expression. "You can have this, the mansion, the leadership, absolutely everything you wanted. I'm done trying to pretend like that's what I want."

"What are you doing?" he finally asks, turning to look at you as you're about to leave the room.

"I quit, basically," you say nonchalantly, like it was no big deal. To all the hunters out there it might be, but you couldn't care any less about this anymore.

He thankfully didn't stop you as you walked out of the room, still feeling the adrenaline rushing through your body. Did you really just say that? It wasn't one of those rants you do all by yourself? Those little moments you take to daydream of what it would be like to not be here living this life?

No. This is real. You're finally free.

With the biggest smile on your face, you rushed upstairs to gather your things and stuff them in suitcases as fast as you could, already starting to picture what freedom will be like. Just you and Jack, saving innocent creatures from the hunters, sharing your love for one another without anything standing in the way. You just couldn't wait to tell him about this.

[angryaromantics]

hi. i need help. i understand you're not a professional so i hope this isn't too heavy but i've been needing and needing to talk to someone about my internalized arophobia and never had a real chance to do it.

anyways, i've been really lost and hopeless over the past couple years because of my aromanticism. identifying as demiromantic was a cover, but even when i thought that was the full extent of my place on the aro spectrum, i hated how hard that made it to find romantic love. now i know better and think i'm probably a lot closer to fully aromantic than i thought, and by extension i'd be cupioromantic too. i've forced crushes before, since i knew they came so rarely. that ended in repulsion and an inability to communicate it just about every time. it sucked. it still sucks.

the thing that makes me feel alone is that i haven't seen anyone else in the aro community express how i feel, and those i have are saying that i shouldn't talk about it since it's technically still arophobia, even if it's towards myself, and could hurt other arospec people. then they go on to say that it's just amatonormativity and something i can get over. but i don't want to!! i know that i want a fulfilling relationship!! i'm frustrated and it feels like an erasure of how i feel!!

i'm sure it'll be damning and maybe offensive to say this but i feel like i need to be fixed and i wish i could fix myself. my desires don't match with my real attraction and it leads me to believe i'm broken in a somehow unique way. i guess it'd be nice to find a community of other cupio-aligned people and build pride for who i am, but i'm just depressed because that won't solve my problem. who i am isn't who i want to be, and i can't change that or better it in any way. i'm hurting because of it. i fear my activity in sapphic spaces is just performative since i'll never actually be sapphic, or straight, or anything. why bother if i'll never know that experience and have the happy endgame with another girl that i truly do want? am i even really bi? could i just be a lesbian if i only experience sexual attraction to girls but no other type to any other group of people? or am i just clinging onto any other orientation label to deny that i'm aromantic and don't belong in the LGB parts of queer spaces? i hate this.

thanks for letting me vent. sorry this is so long. thanks for running your blog, i really appreciate it.

Hi, anon - I apologize, I've found this in my drafts folder, and I have absolutely no idea how long it's been there. Hopefully not too long, but either way, I'm sorry I missed it.

I think the first thing is, I don't believe feelings are ever the incorrect response. You can't control your emotions. If being aromantic makes you feel negative feelings, that's okay. It's normal even. I definitely felt that way for many years, and occasionally slip into it now. I don't think it much matters if it's internalized arophobia or amatanormativity, because either way, the effect it has on you is the same.

I will say, I think the aro community has sort of over-corrected in the way we deal with negativity surrounding aromanticism. I feel like, not even that many years ago, it was rampant. A LOT of the posts, a lot of the talk, was about a lack, of what we're missing out on, etc. Especially once the big aphobia boom around here. And I think people took that, and about faced it so that negativity isn't deemed acceptable by a lot of people. I disagree with this, just fundamentally. I think talking through the negativity you feel toward your orientation can help you work through that negativity. It can also help you find like-minded people, and feeling less alone will probably make you feel less negativity.

I do think it's a dangerous line to walk, though. Because it's easy to tip over into All negativity in such insular communities, and that can honestly be dangerous for everyone's mental health.

I hope you find some peace. I hope you come into yourself. I hope things settle, as they often do with time. I'm sorry none of this has an easy fix. I hope writing it down and getting it off your chest helped. There's nothing wrong with you, and you belong here <2

[smiletimeisrunningout]

okay more Baldur's gate things because I'm definitely adding my Lex (half elf, wizard, criminal past, supposedly into knowedge?? the summary is: she's a weirdo with a personal code and lots of tadpoles) to my multi and yesterday it was hilarious:

I saved the thiefling and that's all that matters to me/Lex (don't know what I'll do when I'll try a less 'gotta protect the underdog even though I'm supposed to be a criminal' person), though I may have skipped forward too fast for a level 3 character in act 1 by killing all the goblin leaders, including the one we could have apparently recruited if letting those innocents be slaughtered. No wonder she gets along with Wyll best.

I had Volo rip her eye out by accident when pushing him to go on with his crazy experiment to remove the tadpole so now she can see invisibility with her prosthetic one. No, I will not be taking criticism or questions at this time (I need to rp the after because she was impossibly chill about it and that's canon)

Lae'zel came onto her??? Is that how you say when someone basically tells you she'd like to jump your bones? which is literally out of nowhere because as much as Lex finds her funny in my head, they disagree about everything, but because Lex didn't run away from giant fights (which I HATED, I was forced to, and I'm pretty sure Lex didn't want to do given her background) she was into her???? Obviously if I rp I won't ask another rper to replicate that, just to know that Lex would keep her and the others forever and have weird adventures because FUN. Also Lex NEVER takes her threats seriously nor shows all that respect, mostly she makes smartass or amused comments, but also got in the way so Shadowheart wouldn't kill her and won't criticize her for her way to live.

Shadowheart woken Lex up at night when almost killing Lae'zel WHILE SHE SLEPT (after the artifact fight) and she was saying she'd claim La'zel had started changing, so while I interrupted the fight peacefully there is no way Lex specifically as a character would ever grow super close/trust her again? I headcanon Lex is fine with people keeping their secrets, she does it too, but betraying trust and companions and lying about it, and the 'attacking a companion while they sleep'? Against her code. Even if she feels affection for her, she hasn't forgotten that Shadowheart wasn't exactly joking when she said 'huh I'd kill you right away' after Lex told her that if she (Shadow) turned she'd tie her up and go find a cure for her. She tries not to disrespect her faith and supports her, let her keep the artifact (and saved her on the ship at the beginning) so she thought they were getting closer, but this crossed the line even if Lex will still treat her as a friend and defend her.

ASTARION IS SO FUNNY. I stand by the idea that 'Lex will insult/roll her eyes at him at all times, but violently protect him with her life, she feels she's the only one who can be like 'shut the fuck up, Astarion' and won't let anyone else mistreat him unless it's a friendly thing, even told the others to trust him when they learned he's a vampire. I like the idea that she's very "I'm not buying any of your crap" to him, while unable to stop smiling at him and secretly worrying for him. Also I feel that when he sensed that she wasn't about to suggest sex at the druids party he was like 'I want sex... NOT WITH YOU' only because she wasn't giving him the vibe she'd say yes, otherwise they'd probably be considering it, even if it's just casually? Astarion was shockingly offended by Gale's reveal because 'he didn't tell his FRIENDS he was dangerous' he used the words "friends", he focused on that, me as a player and Lex as a character are so intrigued by that, considering that Lex herself didn't feel that personally slighted by Gale not telling the truth in general, just not liking that he might die nor that he didn't tell them he could "erupt" (also, if there had been a dialogue option for it, she'd have been like "you didn't tell you were a vampire and tried to bite me while I slept??" She gave him permission to do it once because she's a weirdo and it hurt, but it was such a dangerous thing). By the way, she told Astarion she can suck the enemies' blood but not hers, because it DID hurt and because she's not going to give her literal blood to people. She kinda looks at him softly when they are not bantering so there is that, and she drank his wine so. Weirdest relationship.

Wyll got horns and she's into the demon look. No but seriously, Wyll is the one she effortlessly gets along with and she likes so much (because they are both heroic even if she's not supposed to be) even though I accidentally started romancing Gale. She still thinks so very highly of Wyll even after knowing about him making a mysterious deal with the devil, never knew she wanted to be heroic too until meeting him and realizing she was choosing to fight for others all the time, the way no one ever fought for her. So help me god if the others don't rally up for her if she gets in danger.

Karlack is going to be her best friend, I can feel it. But she just arrived and I don't know much. 

We are in love with the dog.

I know nothing of Minthara, I killed her right away to protect the tieflings. 

I have Halsin in my camp but considering I didn't directly save him, I don't know him much

Wyll got horns and she's into the demon look. No but seriously, Wyll is the one she effortlessly gets along with and she likes so much (because they are both heroic even if she's not supposed to be) even though I accidentally started romancing Gale. She still thinks so very highly of Wyll even after knowing about him making a mysterious deal with the devil, never knew she wanted to be heroic too until meeting him and realizing she was choosing to fight for others all the time, the way no one ever fought for her. So help me god if the others don't rally up for her if she gets in danger.

I ACCIDENTALLY started romancing Gale to see if he'd respond well (when they performed a spell that bonded them a bit, so I reasoned she got a bit lost in it, and conjured the image of them having a romantic walk? she's weirdly sweet?) but I can feel that once he revealed his secret Lex pulled back because he not only hid it for so long, but can't deal with the 'sleeping with a goddess wasn't enough' which makes her think of how many tadpoles she put in her brain, even if she's still very friendly to him and kinda flirty, and I'm so curious to see where it'd go, but I think this was too big of a secret for her??

Karlack is going to be her best friend, I can feel it. But she just arrived and I don't know much. 

We are in love with the dog.

I know nothing of Minthara, I killed her right away to protect the tieflings. 

I have Halsin in my camp but considering I didn't directly save him, I don't know him much

We got Withers, Lex still can't believe a magical corpse is trying to get her money. He's is the equivalent of that guy in Spyro who asks you lots of diamonds to build bridges. It's hilarious.

Lex is shoving tadpoles in her head, she WANTS to be a cool wizard and I headcanon it's to protect herself because she lived a life of rejection and hunger, but in the end she's slipping into I NEED POWER TO SURVIVE. Yet she refuses to abandon companions who are a threat.

I literally made this post her unofficial about page in my multi.

[thisdreamplace]

Hi dream. 😵‍💫 anon here. I want to respond to your last response. I don’t believe that being anxious stops us from being in a state of what we want either. Sometimes people throw so many random conditions around. Even if we have anxiety and cry, that doesn’t mean we aren’t on the path or in the state. The state won’t feel like forcing ourselves not to be a certain way. If we’re anxious, we’re anxious. I have it in my mind that everything will be okay despite the negative emotions or reactions. I appreciate you being so open here. I hate that you were feeling that way and I hope you are feeling more at ease now. Sending a virtual hug. 🫂 Also the movie you talked about, What Dreams May Come, is now on my watch list. I’m going to watch it tonight, actually. Thank you for the recommendation.

I had such a real conversation with myself yesterday. I asked “what is being myself?” I have never known. I’ve always wanted to be like or be someone else. I’ve always tried so hard to be liked that I never once just went with the flow of being me. I only lived for the validation & views of others, even with my looks. My looks were the only reason people even gave me attention. So I let that fuel my high school life. Everything I did or looked like was for other peoples’ validation. Soon, peoples’ compliments didn’t feed my ego anymore. I was left with how I truly felt about myself. Bad. I let that feeling settle and I’ve never been the same. My whole being changed when I had to depend on myself for my own happiness. I felt ugly and so did the world. Eventually, even my friend called me ugly. No one genuinely liked me as an entire person, just my face. I’ve been in a downward spiral ever-since. I haven’t known how to pick myself up. Of course I have matured since then, I just turned 20, but I still see how living by people’s validation has gotten me to this negative point. I’ve been afraid to be me (even with the things I like to do) because of my dependency on others’ views.

I remember you speaking about not avoiding yourself. I know it seems like I had such a negative revelation but I’m joyful about it. My problem with everything and even manifesting is that I keep seeking that validation from others. I noticed that even my desires were linked to, “if I get this, then people will think this” But why haven’t I prioritized how I felt? Don’t I want to change my life for me? I’m still learning. I’m still growing, but I hope to live for me now.

I wish everyone could see your blog. So they’d know that their journey is okay. There is a future waiting with possibilities. And there is a now that we are meant to enjoy and make the best of. 😊 I would have never thought like this before, but you have opened my mind, Dream! 💕 Now, I’m going to watch What Dreams May Come and begin the journey of being me. I’m excited to see who I will become everyday of my life.

P.S. I hope your day went well today. I’m sending you peace & love.

hiiii 😵‍💫anon <3

"the state won't feel like forcing ourselves to be a certain way" right... and it just doesn't make sense really. when we feel down, our entire world doesnt disappear. we still have those things that feel natural to have hahah, despite the mood we are in. and i'm feeling much better 🥰 thank you. these days, honestly, i really just invite it all in. no matter what...i really just... choose freedom over holding onto anything painful. thank you for the virtual hug.

i'm so glad you brought that up and are figuring that out for yourself. i think that these days, thats the question everyone asks: "who do i wanna be" and not so much, "who am i, really ?" and i have found that.. i've gotten a lot further asking the second question than the first. because if everything is already perfect and aligned within myself... i don't need to be anything else or try to be some ideal. i just need to allow my true self to shine through. i'm glad you were able to reflect that much, because through that you'll know how to move forward. you know what stories you used to believe about yourself and now you don't have to keep believing in them. not that it'll be easy, but you have found a guide within yourself of what to let go of in order to move forward. and that's always wonderful.

i think that even a negative revelation is a freeing one. because now you won't be as much of a prisoner to it, you can't possibly change something you aren't even aware of it. even though it's painful, it's also... exciting. :) i really get it. living for yourself is really the way. i reread an article from a few years ago yesterday, and it was just a reminder of that. in all of this... there's really no one to worry about but you. you know, we don't get a prize/more love for our suffering. so why keep engaging in it ? i'm glad that you're doing all of this for yourself now. keep moving forward and always remember that the healing isn't linear... it'll be okay to feel like things are more hard sometimes. just never forget that you can return to yourself always.

thank you so much for your kind words 🥹 it really means a lot to be because... that's really what i wanted in having this blog. to share my own journey and through that, emphasizing that it's okay not to be okay. there's a light... and it's our own selves, if we allow it. i've been the light in my own darkness, and i want everyone to know the same is true for them. i'm glad you know it now too. :) and i'm so excited for you !!

please let me know what you think of the movie ! i just rewatched it today, and it was just as lovely, honestly better now that i've grown since the last time i saw it. and also, i just love the visuals of the movie. so beautiful !

also thank you, my days have been really lovely. there's just so much love everywhere and i'm just allowing myself to take it all in. it's really nice hehe ❣️

[problematicfactive]

This is just sort of half confession, half vent. We got quite a few problematic factives but there's one in particular that I feel kinda ashamed about how I treated him.

The factive in question isn't problematic in the usual way, his source isn't a bad person, very far from it in fact. It's just that I'd seen other systems get flak for similar factives.

We have hyperempathy so feel a lot of stress around social issues and sometimes split from them. We ended up splitting a factive tied to a social issue about a minority we're not a part of. We'd seen other systems get fakeclaimed and told they were just compensating for guilt for similar factives so I kinda tried to force him to seperate from his source. While he was still in the early phases of forming I tried to push his formation away from his source and basically forced him into being or at least pretending to be a brainmade instead, even forcing him to go by a different name. He didn't seem to bothered by it at the time but now that we're in a better place he started to express he really hates that we did that.

He wants to reconnect with his source and decide what he relationship he wants with his source. He has expressed that he wants to go by his actual name and we have respected that. But even he feels nervous about it bc he's inherited a lot of the shame the rest of us feel about him.

I want to feel less ashamed about it, especially considering how I treated him but it's really hard.

I think it's better that I, the Host answers this one. I understand its a vent, so I won't say too much. Only this.

You can't change what you did. There is nothing that can be done to change what happened. And how this person feels about you when its blown over is how they feel about you when it blows over.

I did the same things. I tried to make Anxiety form as someone else. That traumatized him in a way he can't recover from. Even the fact that we call him "Anxiety" here to keep him anonymous-- That's because of what I did to him. I wouldn't call him anything other than that. I tried to force that name change onto him.

Your relationship with this member-- it might never be perfect. My relationship with Anxiety is estranged. Anxiety has in the past called me his best friend. Anxiety also calls me his abuser. And as much as I hate to know he thinks of me that I did to him was abuse and I have to live with that.

I'm sorry. I don't mean to down on your vent, but I don't want to lie to you. I cant say "Be nice and everything will be fine" because I don't know you inside and out. I can't promise everything will turn out okay. Can it? Yeah! Would I bet on it? Usually not.

The most you can do is be better from here onward. Things may not ever be perfect, but they can get better.

Strive for better

[marshmallowprotection]

It really seems that for some people it was very difficult to grasp the true message of Saeran's after ending. They were so confused that they assumed that Cheritz was again trying to impose forgiveness on the players as the only option to get a good ending (as happened with the after ending of V).

Geez, didn't they see that Saeyoung didn't choose to forgive anyone? MC never says they forgive anyone in AE (here we were allowed to be neutral and in the end it will be our choice to forgive or not to forgive but we are never forced to go towards an extreme we don't like), even RFA, they have their own feelings about it, they felt disappointed by V and Rika. They are not that explicit but they imply that their friendship with them is over.... and it's wrong if they don't forgive them? of course not! If that's how they feel and they find another way to be at peace without an apology in between that's fine! And if they choose to do otherwise that's also very well. It is their choice.

They are within their rights to choose how they feel and how they want to move forward. Saeran made his choice, Saeyoung made his choice, RFA made their choice.... You can make your choice too. No one here is wrong, the only thing that will always be very wrong is judging others because they made a different choice than you, man it doesn't affect you. what's the problem? You don't have to agree but remember to respect others choices just like your choices should also be respected.

I've said the same thing over and over again since the After Ending came out. I think the struggle for some people comes from the basic understanding of what it means to forgive. It seems like a lot of folks view this as a black-and-white situation wherein saying that you will forgive someone means that you're saying what happened to you is now water under the bridge and you're willing to open your life up to that person. But, that's only one kind of forgiveness and acceptance.

There are hundreds more and it depends on what feels right to you that changes that outcome. Everyone has to decide what they'll get out of a situation like this. Do you want an apology? Do you want to say you forgive them to find closure? Is forgiveness asking for a way to see them again? Do you want to hold onto your feelings? Do you want nothing to do with them ever again?

All of these and more are included in the realm of your feelings. You have to choose what feels right. For Saeran, forgiveness was a way to eventually forgive himself. Choosing to forgive his abusers gave him a pathway to forgive himself for what he did to the members of the RFA, and more importantly, his MC. He wants nothing to do with V, Rika, or his father. But, finding peace was seeing them one last time to finish that chapter.

Saeyoung isn't forgiving anyone. He will hate them until the day he dies and beyond. He holds grudges and it won't hinder him in any healing process to feel that way. He's not hurting himself and he isn't hurting anyone else by hating them for what they did. He's allowed to feel that way. Just like Saeran is allowed to feel his way.

The RFA has its own feelings, which are even more varied than Saeran and Saeyoung. That's what's beautiful about that ending. There are no more secrets and everyone has the choice to decide what they want to do going forward and nobody shames them for those feelings. Just as it should be. If you don't want to forgive Rika, V, or Saejoong, don't.

Don't forgive them.

But, don't shame anyone else who chose to do so. Saeran isn't stupid or wrong for choosing what he did. He did what felt to him and we're all entitled to do the same for ourselves. That's the beauty of free will and that's what he deserves. What we all deserve.

[lilacastar]

KDA

Pt 2: Waiting

Kalrick rested in the discharge lobby, waiting for the embarrassing inevitable.

Surprisingly, he wasn't in any physical pain from the demonic possession. The only mark that was left, were the healing scabs over the sigil on his skin. One on each wrist, one on his navel, one beneath his collar bone, and one on the back of his neck. But the cuts weren't even from the demon, those were from getting exorcized.

It was funny to think that he'd be going back to what was supposed to be his old life, but wasn't even his anymore. The demon had been using it in his place. The aftermath of someone else's. He would be going back to something ruined, and it had hardly left any marks on him.

He sighed, the questions that would come from bouncing around in his head. What kind of explanations were he to give when he was barely aware of the entire thing? Surly, this would explain all of his weird behavior everyone noticed. But how would they even react?

It was all so stupid it was almost comical. His life hadn't been going towards a degree anyway, but apparently that didn't stop it from spiraling even more pathetically. He seriously doubted the outer-worldly demon was kind enough to keep working his job, and even if that fat chance was made, the few weeks he'd spent in rehab would for sure had him off the schedule. Oh well, what ever would he do to find another lucrative career as a barista in customer service? But maybe it was for the better. Even though it wasn't a terrible job, he hadn't even been able to escape from dreaming about it while he lost time.

A gush of air coming though broke his thought process, his attention now shifting to the open door. A shorter woman in her 50s entered, sandals clicking in the entry, and plastic jewels glued onto the shirt reflected the sun into his eyes. His mom had finally arrived to pick him up. Fantastic.

She embraced him into a tight hug, in which he did not reciprocate. The bullshit hadn't even started yet, but it was already making him tired and not in the mood.

"I'm here Riki," She chattered. "let's get you home."

Riki was not his name, he hated being called that.

Ignoring it for now, he collected his discharge papers and headed to the front desk, mumbling a forced thank-you.

The desk assistant handed his mother an information packet he knew wouldn't be read, and started on what she should know.

"Physically," the assistant began, "Your son is stable, but he has had drastic changes that aren't visible. So he's going to need some time and extra attention to get back on his feet and function like he used to. There are certain things he won't be able to do anymore, and it's all here in the information for you."

"Oh!" mom said. "So he's fine, he just needs rest."

"No ma'am," She shook her head. "Kalrick is not fine, he is only physically not experiencing pain. His diagnosis is Klopis-Hepar, he wasn't himself all this time. Which means a big part of his life was stolen. There's going to be a long term effect on his mental health and daily life."

"Oh, but it's good he's not in any pain!"

"Yes, he may not be in any pain, but-"

"Oh, I'm so relieved then. We'll get him back on track in no time, thank you so much for everything."

The assistant hadn't even the time to close her mouth, mom had cut her off so quickly. The less than pleased expression on her faced showed it probably wasn't the first time patients or others had talked over her.

"Alright then," The assistant said through a pained smile. "You can sign him out now, if he starts experiencing any of the symptoms listed on his discharge papers, please bring him back within the 24 hours of onset."

Through the hassle of papers and signatures, Kalrick was finally able to be released. He buckled into the passengers and rested his head against the side. He'd been doing so much better. He'd moved out and found a good rhythm with no one to hold him back. Now it was all gone, down the drain, and he couldn't even take care of himself.

It wasn't much, but at least it had been together. But now, at 24, he was moving back in with mom. Except he wasn't 24 anymore, his discharge papers were further proof he wasn't making it up in his head.

'Foster Kalrick' it read. 'Age: 26'

He'd been possessed for over 2 years.

[konako]

this is about the evil!red masterpiece you recently posted. you said to ask about it at our own risk… pleeeease please please gift us with your genius

OOKAY. Thank you for enabling me. Look, I— It went like this, okay—

I have multiple versions of an Evil!Red living in my head, not one cent of rent ever paid. (Not to get started on this post, as it takes tremendous restraint, but Red is a character that could have a delicious evil side—!!!!) And each version fits in a different AU, fits in a different ship, a different dynamic and a different story.

I've got the Evil!Red that Hunter!Belle was hired to kill, but couldn't. She even has a tragic backstory, poor evil thing...

I have ANOTHER version of Evil!Red as the familiar to The Witch Regina and her Coven.

But then, this one storyline that I started drawing for, without really having a clear picture of it in my head — just another fun Evil!Red concept, now to fit with Regina, The Evil Queen.

This mysterious verse that feeds off the dark corners of my skull. Also, owing me rent money...

After a couple drawings, I thought I saw it something forming, a shape emerging from the fog. Hear me out:

It's Red Queen, mostly as you know their stories individually, in the Enchanted Forest, but the corruption arc is Regina's, by Red's hand. Truly, honestly, with her aid at most. Regina had that dark impulse before, it wasn't all Red. Wait, no. I'm getting ahead of myself.

Regina's story starts off the same.

Daniel, young love, promising romance, her entire life ahead of her, dreaming big dreams, making plans to run into the freedom that rightfully hers. In the background, the insatiable monster that is Cora's oppression, worsened by Henry Sr.'s passive enabling of that abuse. Saving young Snow, meeting Leopold, Cora arranging that marriage, forcing her will onto Regina, killing Daniel, trapping Regina in a life she never wanted for herself. Regina being a prisoner to her mother's wishes, controlled and intimidated by Cora's powerful magic, without any agency or strength. What you know from canon, the good old canon.

She's not yet learned magic, however, though she's sensing that presence inside — growing along with her grief, anger and frustration. She can't control it yet, she hasn't been taught, she's young, still hopeful that her Mother will see the misery in her daughter's eyes and change her ways. Useless hope, helpless. Cora mistreats Regina, everyday. Regina's suffocating, close to breaking...

She doesn't summon Rumpelstiltskin. This is where the story goes a different way. She doesn't call for him. He is not her teacher. She does it all alone. Well... Someone else gives her that push, of course. But we're not there yet.

In her loneliness and despair, she finds comfort in the refuge of some old books of her mother. Whispers of magic, a strange call in the hissing of those pages. Spell, curses, potions, magic. The kind her mother used to destroy her. If only she was as powerful...

Regina retreats further into that fantasy. The allure of so much potential, of what her life could be, beneath her fingertips, written in ink. She reads it all, so her mind will wander to a different life. To escape this miserable one. To escape Cora, Leopoldo, young Snow — No, Snow has grown so much. She's a woman now. Regina didn't have the heart to hate her. Not even the heart to hate Leopold. All her hatred is locked inside still, rotting her bones, day by day.

And one of those days, she decides to go for a ride. Snow is growing chatty and entitled in a way that's become annoying, and Leopold won't stop talking about his dead wife, the perfect mother to his perfect daughter — Regina can't stand that life she's been shackled to. She gets on her horse and she rides with the wind, hoping her thoughts will leave her, falling behind in the speed, as her tears often do.

But then, as they ride closer to the forest line, her horse becomes agitated. Tall trees seem to be hiding something. Regina can't see it, but her horse has certainly sensed it. It grows so afraid, so erratic, Regina has to step down to calm it — that has never happened before. It's when she finally hears it. A branch snapping, the rustling of the bushes. The horse's cries are so high and sharp, Regina wants to cover her ears, but she can't let go of the reigns, or it will run away and leave her there empty-handed, to face whatever is coming from the forest. She holds on to it as best as she can, as the sounds of the animal's terror pierce her ears.

Red steps out of the shadows, tall as the trees around, her long hair making her appear taller — and the glowing eyes, molten gold. She's not human. Regina's certain of that. Regina has no idea what she is, but by the state of the animal beside her, Red is dangerous. There's something beneath that pale skin that feed her eyes that amber color. Something that makes her biggest, bravest, strongest horse cower in fear. Something Regina can't name, but can feel, in the way the hairs in her arm stand up, and how her breath gets stuck in her throat. Fear. She feels it too. So quickly reduced to a fearful animal, like the one she's holding on to, frozen before the primal threat that slowly approaches.

For some reason, Regina survives that encounter.

Red, even famished as she was, has the mind to spare her life. Regina lives to see the dawn break. She will later wonder what made Red reconsider that meal.

They talk. For some reason — something happens here, I can't see it yet through that fog, give me time —, but for some reason, someone says something first, and that barrier is broken, and they talk. And they bond.

You see, Red also has experience with a controlling mother and a life thrust upon her, despite her wishes for a different existence. Red knows what Regina is feeling. So, to not break that bond, — strange and unexpected as it is — Red refrains from eating her. Something simple, really. One normally wouldn't think twice about it, but for Red, it required great willpower. She's also considerate enough not to eat her horse, so that Regina has a way to ride home. Red will find something else to eat, it's no problem. This one woman, however, she'd like to see again...

And they do. They see each other again. They make a habit out of it. They find a nice place in that forest (again, WIP!!!), and once a month, they meet and they talk.

Until Regina finds Red bleeding, on the path to their spot. It seems Red collapsed before she got there, with just enough strength to pull herself up, sitting in the blood-soaked mud, her back against a tree. Regina runs to her, dropping everything behind; oh, there goes the tears, too — But Red holds up her hands. She's still getting used to being touched in a soft way, it seems.

Regina's breath gets caught in her throat once more. This time, it's at the sight — the very first sight — of the true color of Red's eyes. Regina's has only ever seen her irises burning with the molten gold, sometimes a sudden flash making the yellow even brighter, but never... She's never seen Red look so... terribly, worryingly, beautifully human. Bright green eyes, almost as bright as the gold Red tends to favor. Fascinating, a hue between green and blue — or is it lost to a gray shade. Regina won't make the slightest comment. Not yet. She's known Red for time enough to note she's apparently self-conscious about her humanity. Complimenting her beautiful green, blue, gray eyes will be of no help. Not now, when they have more pressing concerns — like the unmistakably red blood spilling down her side.

Regina asks what happened, Red says she was challenged by another wolf in Anita's pack. She won that fight, she says, with a breathless smile, flashing the sharp canines that scare Regina less and less each time. Red curses, a new word Regina will archive for later, as she tells her how the man's claws tore a hole over her ribs. Regina winces at the thought.

It was her first time ever pulling a werewolf apart, Red adds, her smile now gone. She tells Regina it felt good, as satisfying as the feeling of ripping humans limb for limb. Regina is not sure that's the truth. Maybe Red is trying to distract her from the blood; or herself, from the pain. Tales won't do now, Regina needs to make sure Red survives this wound.

Regina apologizes for not knowing a healing spell yet. She's learning! She's trying to learn. She lit a candle once. She's getting better. If Red could only wait, when, if Regina's magic is ever strong enough, she can help them both—!!

But Red calms her. "I have magic of my own, you know?" Red says, as she shows Regina the wound that's slowly sewing itself back together. "I'll live. Unfortunately." Another smile.

Regina relaxes a bit, but the feeling in her gut stays; that terrifying thought that she could have lost Red that very night. Red takes note of that concern. Regina's sincere intention to help will stay with her, too. Another seed, planted there, to grow into something new.

Red learns about Regina's potential at magic and her anger at Cora, as their nights go on. Each encounter in more detail. They take each other's pain to heart, their miseries memorized.

And one day, in the darkest hour of the night, Red shows up in Regina's room, having followed the scent she's also perfectly memorized. A tall silhouette against the bright moon, climbing up her balcony. So smoothly, Regina heard not a sound, shaken awake by that feeling in her stomach, whenever Red is near. She's startled when she sees the familiar golden eyes blink against the darkness, drawing closer with each step. Closer enough to take her in, crawling up and down her body in a sort of hunger Regina is not sure she's seen before. — Red promised her she would never eat her. Was that a lie?

But as Red's eyes land on her lip, Regina knows she's seen it. Gods, Red must have smelled the blood, before she even stepped on the royal grounds. The cut in her lip, that just now has stopped bleeding. A deep mark left by Cora's ring — a sharp reminder to never speak up against her mother, a lesson that will stare back at Regina every time she looks in the mirror. If only she knew a spell to make it disappear. She's only now learned how to make it stop hurting...

She says so to Red. So Red wouldn't worry. Red tends to worry about her. It's strange. Regina wonders if Red ever worried about anyone else before, or if she's pouring it all in Regina, on her very first try. Maybe she is. Maybe Regina doesn't mind it. It feels good. Even if that worry glows in Red's eyes like blood-thirst. Yet another shade she's fascinated by.

Red's hand brushes her cheek, her thumb careful not to touch the new scar. Regina doesn't flinch. Red has learned to be mindful of her strength by now — she wasn't used to being gentle with breakable, frail humans. But with Regina, Red is her softest self.

Red's voice is low.

"Would you like me to kill her for you?"

---

NOW. LOOK. LOOK. This is what eventually happens, after tons of drama and a lot of story I have yet to come up with:

Red's darkness, coupled with Regina's anger, is what truly corrupts Regina, pushing her down the abyss of her Evil Queen persona. Red becomes Regina's loyal companion, and their romance is BLOODY AND DARK AND MURDEROUS AND WILD AND BOLD.

Look, give me time, I'll come up with something more to give it texture. For now, have this!!

[hhjs]

love or lack thereof.

pairing  — felix x reader

genre / trope  — angst, fluff / exes with benefits.

word count — 7.7k 

warnings  — suggestive, heavy implications, swearing, some making out but no actual r rated stuff but i will say this is suitable for 18 and up audiences. 

note  — this is unedited, subject to change. spare me lol

There are two sides to every person. The side that you want people to see and the side that you keep to yourself.

You think you've come to discover all those aspects of Lee Felix. Given that he's sweet, unassuming and inexplicably kind to the naked eye but you know, the rising anger in you knows he's only ever been cruel to you.

"Move," you seethe, he moves to let you in but you unintentionally knock your shoulder against his. There's people on the subway, and you hate the way Felix's innocent gaze finds yours for a second and it makes you look like the bad guy.

You feel the disapproving glare of a grandma who has a crumpled catalogue about seasonal pie recipes on her lap, as if she can't believe how much of a cunt you were being to an absolute stranger.

A roll of eyes follows, fishing for your ear phones, if only they knew.

Seeing your ex boyfriend outside of your casual deal hits you with the force of a punch to the gut. But you hid it exceptionally well. Arrogantly jutting your chin upwards. Whilst he cowers beside you, having supposedly caught your sour mood.

To think you had spent an hour with him in a bedroom just formerly...is rather strange. You've been sleeping with him for the past few months now and where it had begun is slightly mysterious to you — was it Chan's birthday party or a clubbing gone wrong one night stand just after Felix had come back to town....? You aren't entirely sure.

Albeit the arrangement is ingrained in your head — what you have with him is a secret strictly kept from your friends who otherwise if even caught air of a mere conversation between you two would invite an influx of queries. This is simple, physical, you don't have time for a relationship, let alone one with him and to mend how utterly lonely you are with someone who hasn't already seen you naked, someone who you couldn't blindly trust, is too much work.

Even though Felix is indubitably affected by your unwavering indifference, something he wasn't used to when you were together because of how giving you were to sate his utterly needy tendencies. Now he feels himself clawing at your hardened exterior in search of just those affections to no actual avail —hurt crossing his eyes when you sneak out of bed without saying goodbye, when days pass and you don't call or text and most importantly, when you're in public and you can't be bothered to spare him as much as a glance. To you, it's nothing more and nothing less. You make it a necessity to keep reminding him.

See you liked to pretend you're a resilient person. That in your heart you really do forgive people and move on.

But he is an exception.

"Did you eat?" He perks up, his voice is small. Careful.

You keep your stoic expression, looking ahead. "No."

Then he blinks, like he usually does when he doesn't understand why you act the way you do. Impolite, communicating only in monosyllables.

Do you really hate him that much?

There's a hoodie pulled over his black hair, longer along the neck,headphones dangling from his neck and his backpack in his hand, he hopes when he holds onto the same railing as you are, that your fingers should brush just a little.

Despite the way you adamantly ignore him, Felix opens his mouth to utter a passing inquiry. Your jaw clenches. And you desperately begin to scan the city map plastered inside to navigate passengers to their destinations.

"Can we...do you want to get something to eat..." He swallows, "together?"

As if he's crazy for even making such a proposition, you look at him once but from the corner of your eye and he thinks that's a lot considering how often you look past him, through him, never at him. You shake your head, giving him a warning stare.

Across from you, his reflection is frowning at your negative response. Still staring at you with a marveling gleam in his eyes, how much you've changed over the past two years just as he has....still takes him by surprise. Suddenly and unexpectedly, his eyes flicker to yours and he finds you staring at his image against the glassed doors. And like a deer caught in headlights, your heart drops to the depths of your stomach.

The announcement above falls deaf to your ears as you exit in a blind rush of sheer panic. Ignoring the biting cold and unfamiliar station. Your stop is still quite far. Maybe you'd have to take the taxi... or walk.

But in the face of all those hassles you sense yourself feeling incredibly relieved...because frankly, you think, you could go to hell and back if gets you away from him.

—

"So you came to tell me you're just gonna give up? Is that it?"

Felix carefully glances at you through his lashes, silently pursing his lips as to convey the answer.

You stare at the speckles of light kissing up his freckled cheeks, his big beaming eyes, a slightly low bridge but rounded tip of his nose paired with a small upturned mouth.

You can't believe you won't see him again.

Whenever he'd catch a break, he'd take the 2 hour bus to town and come see you, meet you and those once in six months meetings alone, to you, compensated for his lengthy absence.

So it couldn't be the distance, you thought, if that were the case he'd have dumped you when he moved to the capital for university.

Felix just doesn't want to be with you anymore.

"You don't get it...." He closes his eyes, as if he doesn't want to see himself saying what he is about to say, you almost don't get the resistance in his tone. The subtle drop of his Adam's apple. "I don't want to hurt you." He starts, "Just think about this rationally... we're so young, what if I find someone else there?"

Someone...else?

Is it that easy to dispose of you? Aren't you enough?

How foolish of you to only ever think of him.

It felt like Felix was kicking you where knew would hurt the most.

Your sardonic laugh is cracked, garbled and it's so fucking embarrassing that you're crying in the middle of a fast food joint, your fries have gone cold. Had you known seeing him this time would be vastly different from usual, you wouldn't have ordered at all. Why didn't he tell you before? Why had he insisted on catching you unawares?

But then again...this isn't about you at all. This is about Lee Felix. This is about him reducing your worth to make room for himself.

Ultimately, you understand, what is worse than not being loved back is being loved by someone who doesn't love you as much as you do them.

"Well I won't stand in your way then,"

You clear your throat,

"Fuck..." you rub your temple, the sadist in you coughing up hysterical laughs. The ache inside your heart at this point has turned into physical pain, cracks fissuring out against its surface and gnawing at the flesh like its being torn apart at the seams.

You should've seen this coming.

Everyone told you and told you you could only drag on an opposites attract sort of relationship for so long before you start to realise how incompatible you are.

Felix has the audacity to reach over and place his fingertips on your knuckles,his eyes are sad, overflowing with pity. It makes you feel small, the way he looks at you, small, sad and abandoned.

What tips you over the edge, however, is how calm he seems, as if he had been precisely planning to dump you for days and months and years while you continue to make a fool out of yourself never have forseen his decision.

There are tears running down your cheeks, abusing your vision with a vicious sting. You bring your sleeve to collect the needless moisture in a sudden rise of temper that is oh so typical of you.

You snatch your hand away from his touch.

"Don't touch me." You say, the simple comment transfers pain to Felix's eyes, mouth parting in silent words. You want to scream at him, you want to shake him by the collar and tell say something, just say anything at all and I will forgive you. Goddamnit.

In a perfect world, you think, a world where things happened exactly the way they should, you wouldn't have said, instead,

"And don't you fucking dare come back here...ever again."

And...in that very perfect world, he would've listened.

—

Felix thinks he could, dare he say, love everything about you. Even though you most certainly deserve someone who hasn't hurt you the way he has.

Now it's funny actually, how the tables have turned...back then, he wasn't sure about you and now you aren't about him.

Felix doesn't really blame you though...because he knows he asked for it.

Your presence in his life has somehow become an absolute necessity to say the least. And ironically enough, while he had so confidently pushed you to let go of him, he realises he had been holding onto you all along.

Now what was he saying...again?

Right. Felix loves everything about you.

But what he loves most...is the way your hand instinctively finds his heart when you're kissing. It's just a simple movement of your fingers splaying against his chest, the warmth of them seeping through the fabric of his shirt. He doesn't even know why it means so much to him.

His hand drops from your ass to the back of your thighs to situate you closer to his chest. He moans into the kiss when your teeth comes to scrape against his bottom lip, your ministrations are typically rough and speedy but he is seemingly far too absorbed by the exhilarating feeling coursing throughout his entire form — it's not just blatant lust, he knows, but a much deeper understanding that he is inexplicably gladdened by the fact that he's touching you and you're touching him.

A shaky breath leaves Felix's parted lips as he cranes his neck to allow your lingering kisses to shift along his angular jaw.

Then without quite meaning to, his vision focuses on the table clock that reads it's well past midnight...you had run late tonight for reasons you neglected to disclose. Now that he really focuses, a strong musky fragrance akin to unfamiliar men's cologne wafts up his nostrils.

It couldn't be....

As Felix's suspicions run deeper, he restlessly begins to search up every aspect of his surroundings as best as he can in the limited provision of light. There is a large coat discarded on his bed, one he hasn't seen you wear before...then again it might not be yours at all...

You notice how he's stopped responding to you, so you pause, leaning back, still on his lap. "Is something the matter?"

Felix swallows, blinking up innocently at you. This deal is simple, isn't it? He knew what he was getting into the first time you got together and the second and the third and so on, so why had the possibility of you getting involved with someone else even bother him then?

Both of you knew why.

And what's worse is that Felix is sensitive by nature, never truly succeeding to hide his emotions, especially intense ones when faced with them. So he is hyper aware of the fact that what he is feeling in the moment is not jealousy, it's neither anger nor resentment but a deep seated insecurity that he will lose you.

Again.

"Were you...with someone?"

As expected, your hands resign from cupping his face, you avoid looking at him.

"What?"

Felix clears his throat, his accent thicker, voice heavy from disuse. He thinks about something being with you in the same way only he has...and it causes a dull ache inside his chest.

He rests his head back against the sofa and shrugs lazily. As if to prove a point, as if to say did he touch you here? his fingers ride up your t shirt, gently cupping your ribs, he tries not to look too satisfied when you quiver under the touch.

Still you lift yourself up and the sudden lack of contact almost makes him whine.

You stand before him. A hand at your hip.

"Why are you acting like this?" You say and he notes you sound more... curious than annoyed. Though what frustrates him is that you hadn't answered his question. "I thought I made myself clear...there are rules we agreed upon."

Oh he knows — no staying over, no personal questions, no jealousy.

Felix purses his lips. The downside of your forwardness, the same utterly admirable trait he finds really fucking hot, the one that conditions you to tell Minho off when he hogs all of Felix's brownies though the latter himself is too much of a pushover to say anything, the same one which had in times of recurring doubtfulness assured him of your strong feelings towards him, is that you say whatever comes to mind without sparing anyone's feelings.

"I'm just asking, [........]," he lies, trying to control the pain from projecting itself onto his voice. It hurts to see the way you jump to defend yourself around him, as though you're scared he'll hurt you again. The lack of faith you have him, after all this time, causes him hurt. "Why are you getting so upset...."

Felix is gentle. Communicating his feelings through his actions rather than words, cooly, slowly. And you are the exact opposite — there is an immediacy in your conveyance, a roughness. You mean what you say and you say what you mean so you think everyone does too. Which is why, he concludes, his present actions are insufficient to remove the seeds of resentment he'd left in the wake of his bitter utterances when you broke up.

But Felix was only 18 then, a kid completely unaware of his overwhelming need to have you in his life....what matters is, he's trying...he really is, to recover from his mistakes......shouldn't that least matter?

Thinking the slight inhibition in his tone is just a figment of your imagination and that he is simply and indifferently inquiring you, you feel a wave of embarrassment wash over you. Then you drop down on the bed, feeling for his remote.

You sniff through your nose and against your better judgement say, "I went out with an acquaintance,"

On weekends Chan usually wasn't home, you could come over. This is the routine, it has been for some time now...so, you've come to know Felix's room more intimately than your own, the walls are a deep blue, like the kind of blue out of a Holly Warburton painting. There's an old Coldplay poster on the back of his door and X-Men action figures from eons ago lined on the edges of his bookshelf.

You know where everything goes when though it's dark. But that doesn't mean anything.

It shouldn't.

"A acquaintance who gave you their coat midwinter...you must be close,"

You ignore his pointed comment, he ignores the way your eyes light up when you talk about this acquaintance.

"He's nice." You say, "He walked me to the station and everything."

A happy hum comes in response.

Because when was the last time you talked to him as freely as you are?

Felix plops down on his stomach beside you, elevating his form on his elbows. His fingers come to brush loose strands out of your eyes. Your gaze meets his for the second time that week. Slower. As if you hadn't minded looking him this time. He feels his heart being tugged at all possible angles.

Then, because he can't stop himself — he leans down and kisses you, tentative and indolent, like he has all the time in the world, like all he wants to do is kiss. Don't get him wrong...you've done downright unspeakable things with him, to him...but nothing mediates his adoration for you without the employment of speech like these little chaste...purposeless movements. His fingers coming to splay against your neck, thumbing along your throat when you gulp, the tip of your nose brushing against his cheekbone, eyes fluttering shut. They're...they're intimate. Utterly special. He knows you feel it too, from the way you look slightly surprised, searching his face, eyes skimming up any fragment of emotion conveyed in his features. But you don't encourage it, slowly shifting to turn your back as you lay quietly against his chest.

"Let me stay here tonight," you say, "I'm tired."

"Okay,"

Felix thinks you've broken not one, but two rules now. He hadn't expected you to answer. He hadn't expected you to get into bed with no intention of departing either.

Though he doesn't hold it against you, this is what he wants, for you to open up to him again...after all. These changes can't be bad changes, even if they are little, it's still progress...right?

—

You wet your fingers, dipping the moistened muscle against the clay mold. All around you is not as eerily quite as it is in your apartment, footsteps thrumming against hardwood floor, kiddish humming from the kitchen, the smell of sugar in the air, you've never worked outside of your home station and well...in class. You thought of yourself as a self sufficient individualist, you liked to believe that you didn't enjoy other people's company like you did your own, with the exception of your roommate. But that's only since you aren't close enough for her to disturb you.

Yet with Soomi moved out for good, the place felt...odd to stay by yourself.

So you found yourself spending more and more time at Felix's. It's nice to have a place to crash in every now and then, the sex is great and when you get hungry after, you don't have to think twice about scouring the fridge.

You don't know why you put off spending time aside from sleeping together at all, more time spent didn't necessarily add to your deal or subtract from it....because the action itself doesn't really mean anything. Everyone gets tired of being alone at some point. That's a universal fact.

Initially, you told yourself your presence was a consequence of Chan catching you two in the shower one night...so now that the cat's out of the bag, you two figured his place could become the only premise you didn't have to play pretend in. You both knew the elder would be more than willing to keep the younger's secret even if he didn't exactly approve of it.

With the increased frequency of your visits, bits and pieces of you remain dispersed all throughout the apartment, your body wash in his bathroom, your underwear in his laundry, the smell of you in his sheets, on his clothes. You had relaxed yourself through the periphery of his life and he had small glimpses of yours, habits and flaws, unknowingly...or knowingly....whatever. — Felix could only thank God that Chan had found out, in spite of the revelation itself putting you both in a compromising position.

With time, he starts to keep a few secrets from you too, here and there, knowing that if you knew you will stop doing it altogether. He can't have that...

You throw a leg around his hip when you're fast asleep, flinging an arm not a second later to cage him in your warm embrace. Felix likes the way your chest rises and falls against his back, how your breath tickles his skin and your mouth parts against his shoulder blade. Sometimes he stays awake and waits for you to do it, then when you do, he grins so hard his face hurts a little. Felix likes being the little spoon.

"Are you listening?"

His vision narrows down to the sight of you holding out your palms in the air, there's wet clay on them, as well on your cheek and legs, between them your pottery wheel is halted to desuetude, there's old newspapers layering the floorboard to prevent staining.

"Sorry...," he smiles sheepishly, "What did you say?"

It's your turn to shift your gaze to your feet. Felix thinks it's highly uncharacteristic, the way you seem almost...shy?

"Can you..." You eye the mug mounted on his study desk, he catches onto your request easily, "I'm thirsty—"

"Yeah yeah hold on... careful," Felix chirps, carefully guiding the rim to your lips to make sure it doesn't spill. He uses the tip of his thumb to wipe the corner of your mouth, you flinch first but then whilst the mild shock subsides, simply stare up at him as the pad of his thumb brushes against your skin. "There you go..." he trails, eyes bright with care.

You feel like a child being doted on, the mere emotion plunging you back to when you were 5 and had crushes on boys who shared skittles with you.

"Thanks."

Felix's ears perk up at the courtesy, you were never one to express yourself easily and when you did, every time, he felt inexplicably delighted.

The apples of your cheeks feel hot for some reason, by putting yourselves in in these small situations, you keep confusing him, you know, because you keep confusing yourself too.

You come out again that night but this time Bang Chan is shifting around in the kitchen. He hardly sleeps, you observe, but probably refusing to come out because he wanted to avoid bumping into you.

Chan doesn't seem to like you very much. Probably. You don't blame him. Before you came along, Felix and he spent more time together, now you had become a constant in his life without will.

You have to listen twice to realise he's speaking with you. Not an invisible being behind you.

"What?"

"I said..." His tone dropped dangerously low, he looks annoyed at something. "Listen I don't care what you're doing but don't hurt him." He's wearing a black t shirt and a pair of pajama shorts with cartoon wolves littered all across the baby blue fabric. He's trying to appear intimidating. It's not really working.

You stifle a laugh.

Frankly had you not known how deeply he cared for Felix, you'd not have cared about his advice. Or warning....?

"Fine," you respond, watching as the tension visibly left his body with one bating breath. "I hope this isn't about me stealing your yoghurt though."

"It's a little about stealing my yoghurt," he jokes, you think he's one of those people who'd apologise if you punched them in the face and spat in their drink. It's interesting...

Chan laughs a little. His eyes sparking with amusement for the first time of all the times he's looked at you. Did he trust your word that much?

—

"He talks about you a lot you know,"

You nearly spit out your drink. Seungmin isn't exactly the densest guy you know. Far from it exactly and he isn't discreet either. So your first instinct is to think he knows something.

You watch Felix from a distance, a solo cup in hand, he's laughing at something Hyunjin said, there's a crinkle along the bridge of his nose and his upper lip curls upwards to reveal his teeth. In reality, in everyone's eyes, your lives are separate. They walk on eggshells around you still...you assure yourself there's no way anyone could've guessed.

So you play dumb, glugging the whiskey into your cup. It spills around the edges, landing on the semi-lit neon counter.

"Who?"

Seungmin blinks at you. An unreadable expression on his face.

"Jisung." He says, "Who else?"

You feel yourself getting less excited, the breath you were unconsciously holding passing your entire form. Jisung is the newest addition to your life, a performing arts student who offered to portrait model for a project you'd been given in class. He's cute, forward, which you like a lot. And you notice whilst using him for inspiration, that he looks at you just as attentively as you had at him.

Only for different reasons.

Jisung asks for your number. You say yes. Half-heartedly. Though at the forefront of your mind you keep comparing everyone to the guy you go home to ever so often, you pick out their flaws and their perfections and you think to yourself he isn't like this, he is like this.

"Yeah?" You pose, sipping and wincing. "What did he say?"

"Just the usual stuff...." Seungmin tilts his head, he's not drinking tonight because he has an exam tomorrow. You think it's a little funny that he's carrying around water in a solo cup. "But I can tell he has the hots for you,"

You laugh this time. That's no surprise to you. "Well he's not so bad himself."

Seungmin narrows his eyes, shooting you a suspicious look.

"Of course you'd say that...." He taunts, "Heard you guys hung out...how was that by the way?"

"It was alright. Sort of just...happened. We bumped into each other and he offered to buy me dinner."

"And you...said yes?"

You give him a blank look, sarcasm dripping from your monotonous sentences, how else would you have spent time together?

"No, I didn't, Seungmin,"

The owner of the name rolls his eyes at your satirical comment, "No need to be mean, I'm just a little surprised is all."

"Surprised?"

You raise an eyebrow, Felix is still in your line of sight, it looks like he's stalling, waiting for your conversation to end so you could leave. He glances at you a few times and you quickly text him a 5 more minutes. "Why's that?"

"Cause every time you start to have feelings for someone, you take one step forward and ten steps back," he points out, "Think about it...you haven't been in like an....actual relationship after...well, you know," he postulates.

You glare at Seungmin, your pride somewhat injured.

"Hey! I've....dated."

"No....you slept around with people, that's not the same as dating." He retorts.

You snort.

Wouldn't you know.

Minho changes an upbeat pop song to something mellow. It's in a foreign language...maybe Spanish, you understand nothing but you don't have to to know it's a sad tune, the lyrics coming together in a melancholic harmony. Your eyes drift away, you feel your attention falter.

It was not unknown for you to have absolute control over your life, be it living your days by strict routine or building such a sturdy pretentious armour around yourself so that your organic self remained unscathed underneath. You had learnt the hard way that being yourself in front of other people would only bring you hurt...but if no one really knew you, no one could hurt you.

This game of hide and seek had become such a long standing practise in your life that it disconnected who you are from who you pretended to be. And every time the extent of your actual desires, monsters much beyond your control rose to the surface, they brought you shame, disgust.

You found those pretences withering away, the shell of protection around you falling apart whenever the thought of Felix crossed your mind. — his heavy noise of content against your neck, his fingers curling into your sheets, his open mouthed kiss against the arch of your hipbone, everything and anything...you had again, despite all your abrasions, become madly consumed by him.

And you must admit to yourself that you are becoming quite ridiculous because of it.

In this strange moment, you realise you almost need Felix to harp on about you even though you specifically asked him to keep all that you have a secret. You want his friends to come scurrying to you to start telling you that he cares so much he can't keep his mouth shut, to be so enamoured with you that his innermost feelings become painfully apparent, that it's utterly stupid of you to not see how he feels about you.

That's not how it goes though. Stuff like that only happens in movies.

Felix responds, texting, "Take all the time you need." Surprised, you steal a glimpse of him, but only when Seungmin isn't looking. You didn't know what you expected, something more crude, that would give away that he was jumping on the balls of his feet to only get into your pants, that would remind you that Felix is nothing but your fuck buddy. You find that you always look for reasons to resent him....because if you did, it meant that you didn't have to acknowledge how you're still in love with him.

You knew what you were in for. And hoping, wanting something more....is no more than wishful thinking.

Felix smiles at you, a genial smile, a simple curve along the corner of his lips which conveys patience, but also something deeper, like...understanding.

Again no matter how much you pushed him away he seemed to find his way back to you in some fashion, just to convey that your union is not all as black and white as you told yourself it was.

You down the entire drink in one swig. Seungmin makes a face at you, the kind he makes when you stick your fries in ice cream for shits and giggles,

"Well....we broke up a long time ago," You hiss at the awful taste stinging your throat, sounding slightly angry. You can't believe it matters still, but when you've been clutching onto something for too long, be it a painful emotion or a memory...you start to think it's the locus of your life, an integral part of you. It terrifies you to think who you'd become without it — vulnerable, malleable, sensitive.

You can't do that again.

The last few weeks, regardless of how good they were, didn't change a thing.

It couldn't. You wouldn't let it.

Seungmin is right, you think, you are taking ten steps back. Just not in the context he thought.

"There's no reason I shouldn't start now."

—

Turns out there is a reason.

Jisung asks you out the next day. He's so friendly that you feel overwhelmed. At all times of the day, he dresses like a frat boy out on his morning jog. A nike running shirt and loose fitted trousers, a baseball cap worn the other way around...it's a little silly.

You don't mind it, having the kind of apathy you would have towards someone you don't know very well.

Everything with him feels new, awkward. But also slightly exciting. He talks too much when he's nervous and you notice that he's almost always nervous because of your personality, as though he can't really put a finger on you and doesn't know what to do about it. Besides...he’s not a horrible kisser either, you muse, he just doesn’t know what you want.

Yet whenever you heard yourself thinking those compliments, you couldn't help but feel utterly guilty, a strangely deep seated feeling that you were doing something wrong.

Why did you feel this way....

Felix isn't your boyfriend anymore. You don't owe him any form of loyalty. You knew that. You're someone who sticks to their gut feelings and your gut had decided that something about seeing Jisung didn't feel right and not just because of Felix, but because you're not interested in a relationship just yet. And you're sure he could tell you aren't, he shouldn't quite expect a call back anytime soon.

"I had a nice time," you say, because it's true. He took you out for ice cream and bought you candy floss when you stared at it for too long.

When Jisung doesn't respond for a hot minute, you follow his trail of vision, which instead of focusing on you, has shifted to the semi-lit backdrop of your apartment. He's too obvious.

"Do...you want to come in?"

He flounders a little at your suggestion, embarrassed. "Would that be alright?....if I did...."

"That depends, are you gonna kill me?"

You say with a straight face. No matter much Jisung prodded at your exterior, you wouldn't budge, like you usually hadn't. Unravelling isn't really your thing so....he can't tell if you're kidding or not.

"No...?"

You snort, "Why do you sound so unsure?"

Jisung's face has grown impossibly red, he could feel his ears burning in indescribable shame. You just have this air about you that makes you incredibly hard to read and it's really attractive.

"I....I didn't..."

You keep your voice, steady, calm, "Relax," "I'm just screwing with you," you say, stepping aside for him to enter, "Make yourself at home."

—

You suppose you were born to study the arts.

You never could consider yourself a studious being. When you were in school, you remember falling behind in classes where the arduous process of revising was required, say mathematics or the sciences even.

Though that realisation hadn't come to you naturally.

Your parents wouldn't take kindly to you not taking up a "well paying" profession and you fell victim to the constant barrage of criticisms, of mockery which ultimately conditioned you to think some part of you, a large part just wasn't good enough.

And with Felix gone....

You were at your worst.

The two years you spent without him were the hardest, a set of years that obliged you to protect yourself from all the hurt around you, inside you. And while the security that you provided yourself is undoubtedly necessary for well...anyone, the process itself had its wicked way of rendering you unspeakably lonely.

You agreed to apply as an engineering major to gain your parents' approval and then transferred to the arts department by the time you'd successfully moved out. You haven't spoken to them ever since...and it hurt you more than you would deign to admit.

When your mum drops over for a surprise visit and chances upon your ex-boyfriend loitering about in your kitchen, fixing up midnight munchies, she takes a natural guess that you've gotten back together. (Which you think is far more agreeable than the truth. Knowing your mother, a staunch supporter of your relationship with him, she wouldn't take lightly to your arrangement.) And before you know it, you're all having dinner.

Felix makes an effort to dress up well, discarding his usual hoodies and joggers for a more formal look, you suspect it has something to do with the fact that you haven't attended any casual settings with him since you broke up.

Cutlery clinks against ceramic, coming down with a semi-loud thump as you try to swallow the enormous lump in your throat. Your mum makes a passing jab at you, saying how you had settled for a much "easier" major than say architecture or philosophy, she bitterly mentioned that everything worked out in the end. After all, your choice is a "much fitting" field of study for someone of your caliber, backhandedly insinuating that you're far too stupid to pursue anything else.

What inspires hilarity is how those insults still affected you. In front of Felix, you act like these few years have brought the fighter out in you and here you are trying to blink away the onslaught of tears prickling your vision. It feels like someone stripped you off your skin, off your flesh and picked out all your shortcomings for him to see.

You expect him to stay quiet, you expect him to think of you as the utterly shameful, selfish being you tell yourself you are,

But Felix's fingers find your shaky knuckles under the table where they rest on your knee, he implants the weight of them in a reassuring squeeze. "Well I think it's great," he says instead, smiling cheerfully at your mum. To which she, for the lack of support, sheepishly beams at him, "Not many people have the drive to do what they want to do. Or know what they want to do...take it from me, Missus [.....]" He laughs nonchalantly, the hairs on the back of your neck standing to attention upon hearing the lovely sound. You always liked his laugh, the sound rippling against your naked skin, thick baritone when he'd just woken up and a kiddish falsetto when he's extremely happy.

You wonder when you started paying so much attention.

Felix glances at you, lingering for a long minute."I bet it took a lot of guts."

You feel your chest constrict with a sudden surge of emotion from the mere look, you can't remember if the Felix you knew in the past, or anyone for that matter, had ever beamed at you with such pride.

You wonder what he'd think if he knew about Jisung, why you had neglected to tell him at all....you knew, because this little moment is precious to you and you had no reason to tarnish it. Not when you had time.

You tilt your head, using your free hand to hastily find the back of his neck, drawing closer to him with little strength. The more he realised what you're doing, the more excited he got. See he found your newly introduced public display of affection immensely attractive, though obviously embarassed by the sudden motion...

You can do crazy things sometimes. Really crazy things. In public and he has never opposed to such exhilarating things, be it in restrooms or even in a similar setting when you were dating, there was a certain thrill to it which drove him to the brink of insanity. Felix would silently implode your attention when you were alone and when you were out in the open, in whichever way he was to receive it, the way which insinuated you were his was the best of them all. All that was fine though...because it was just the two of you.

But now...in this indecent time, he wishes he could hear what you're thinking.

Had... had you gone completely mad?! Your mum is looking!

Your face is stoic, Felix's mouth parts, then you reach over and kiss him shamelessly.

Over the years, all the things that have caused you pain were things you had endured on your own, in his absence. This realisation alone invites a heavy conviction inside you.

Because you know it just as well as he does, no matter how sincere he is to you — you don't need Felix. Not really.

But you want him.

—

You do a stupid thing. A stupid endearing thing and Felix's heart beats like it would jump out of his mouth if he opened it.

It was meant to be a secret, what you two have, a matter of uncomplicated lust which didn't require the attention of anyone because it initially or so you put it, wasn't important enough.

Then you charge to him, he supposes it has a little to do with the person who was blatantly flirting him in the middle of Changbin's Halloween party, he doesn't care though.

You don't like embarrassing yourself, so he doesn't actually expect you to wear a black cat hairband matching his white ears and feline tail. Felix wants to think it means something, how despite the coos and the caas, the giant wave of surprise washing over your friends, you interlace your fingers within his and kiss his cheek.

He doesn't what that makes the two of you now... but he would give you all the time in the world to figure that out if it meant you could be his again.

—

You trace your fingers against outline of his face. Splatters of moist moonlight kissing the high rise of his cheeks, dusting along the long fringe of lashes which cast shadows along his skin, his freckles are like dots of bronze dispersed on his skin. He's beautiful like this.

"You're thinking too much," he says with his eyes closed, smiling a little. "Don't think so much."

You laugh. "Or what, huh?"

Felix cracks an eye open, his grin big, kiddish. "I was hoping you'd say that," he rubs the tip of his nose against your collarbone, he snuggles closer to your chest. What you hadn't expected was how he shifted his entire weight onto you, lying entirely atop you as though he were a starfish.

You couldn't stop laughing at the motion, it's so cheesy and gross...you love it.

—

Here's something you don't know — Jisung tells his friends everything, about making out with you and taking you out...everything. News travels fast. Faster than you anticipated. Despite wanting to divulge the matter, you were too taken by the recent shifts in your feelings to confess to your little interaction. You had told yourself again and again — a little later, just a little later and I’ll tell him.

It could be too late now.

The entire campus knew of your little rendezvous, shooting you curious looks... it's not until Minho comes up to verify the floating rumours do you all but sprint to Felix's place. You think of Chan's trusting eyes, of don't hurt him, of laughing in the intimacy of your bedroom and swiping your fingers down his spine like you were trying to commit the undulating design to memory.

You're not sure where it all began.

but you don't want it to end.

Felix doesn't answer your calls or your messages. When he buzzes you up, just from his gait, just from the resigned look in his eyes, you know he knows.

You watch as he listlessly leaves you to enter, walking before you without saying as much as a word.

You grab Felix’s elbow, making him stop in his tracks. He looks at your fingers wrapping around the muscle, shrugging you off easily. It’s just a small gesture but its impact is so large...that you feel your heart break into a million pieces.

You had never seen Felix being so quiet, even when he was down, he found a manner to radiate a form of optimistic energy which baffled you. You can’t believe how much you could have possibly hurt him. 

 “I can explain.” you gulp, “We went out on one date. It wasn’t because I liked him, I know it’s stupid and...I should’ve told you. I’m sorry, that's not an excuse, but you have to trust me when I say it didn’t...it doesn’t mean anything to me—”

“Did you sleep with him?”

With his back turned away, he still isn’t looking at you, speaking to you with a surprisingly stable tone.

“No.”

Felix takes a shuddering breath, one which expresses the small relief of knowing that Jisung hadn’t seen, touched you, felt you in the way that he only had, but there’s still so much more he wants to know. 

“Did he make you laugh?” 

It’s a silly question, he realises belatedly but he can’t help it. Some part of him, a large part, thinks he’d be more hurt if you made someone happy and they made you happy than if you fucked them.

You shake your head even though he can’t see you. “He didn’t.”

Your fingers again reach for his, wrapping your index into his thumb. You slowly move your hands to his middle, clutching him close to your chest, chin hooking into his shoulder, suddenly...you feel him melt into the embrace. Felix’s voice falters for the first time, small trembles against you. You’re willing to answer all his queries if it could put his mind at ease. You put your heart on hold for too long.

"Do you hate me...?" He sniffles.

You blink....did you?

Felix had changed, like you, he had matured, the past version of him you had so stubbornly ingrained in your endless inner monologue is not the one you grew all too familiar with...

Familiarity does breed contempt, does it not? Well you think the line between love and contempt is untraceable, melded together as a mysterious whole. After all those years, you were still angry, still filled to the brim with contempt for him and more importantly, yourself because you still love him much more than you'd like to admit. After all you've been through. After all this time. The need to love him ultimately encompassed every other emotion which posed itself as a hindrance.

So the opposite of love, the absence of love, you think, isn't hate, it's indifference. An emotion you never felt towards him.

Felix has wedged himself into every aspect of your life, tainted every portion of your routine in his presence and in his absence.

You don't think you'd have it another way.

"You broke my heart," you explain, "I was angry....but I could never hate you for the sake of hating you."

"I can't..." Felix whispers, twisting his body so he could look at you now, “I can’t promise you that it won’t be hard but I'm not—I’m not going anywhere...you know that right?”

You lean your forehead against his, his eyes shifting to your mouth, hands rising to wrap around your neck. You smile.

“I know.” you say, "Me neither."

“I love you...” He says in a small voice, putting his hand against your knuckles. “Do you love me?”

Your eyes soften, cupping his face like this — carefully collecting a lone tear with your thumb before it could touch his cheek. This time there is not a shred of hesitancy, no pause, no pondering before you say, 

“I never stopped.”

—

You enter in a blind rush of panic, thinking you might miss your ride, feet knocking together, elbows hitting elbows, bustling all around you and the sudden overwhelming stench of people hit you, it’s not an ideal setting, not at all actually. 

But you couldn’t bother to be displeased a second you spent with him. A teenager rolls her eyes at how disgustingly in love you are, elderly couples tutting under their breath...albeit, you don’t fail to notice their subtle smiles, small shake of their heads which attested to the fact that the joy you both radiate is.. absolutely infectious. You stumble with him behind, Felix is laughing breathlessly, bumping into your chest as the train suddenly starts moving, you place a finger on his cheek and he raises his chin to look at you.

“Did you eat?” he repeats, mocking himself, a dialogue from a time which seems an element of the distant past replaced by a love which compensated for every hitch in your relationship. You still argue, still disagree and still make up the same. Felix was right, it isn’t easy.

But when two people love each other as much as you do,

it’s worth trying. With every fibre of your being.

“No.”  You laugh, playing along, “But I could, with you.”

[may-fanfic]

After You’ve Gone pt 2

summary: Natasha is broken up, after her decision to cheat on you splits the two of you apart, unbeknownst to her, Wanda is there to comfort you 

warnings; cheating 

word count: 3,492

masterlist 

pt 1 

a/n: was honestly so conflicted on how i should end this story but i hope you guys enjoy 💕

((feel free to send in any request you may have)) 

taglist: @madamevirgo​

​

Natasha moved through the compound, ignoring her teammates' calls as she tugged her earphones over her ears to block out any more noise. When she made it to the training room, she was relieved to see that it was empty. Natasha honestly couldn't be bothered right now. All she wanted to do was beat the living shit out of the punching bag, anything to get you out of her head. It seemed to be a constant in her mind, the way things ended so terribly, all because of her. Even in her dreams, she sees it. She hadn't heard from you since despite how many times she tried to reach you.

She knew for your sake; she needed to leave you alone. You were going through it as much and, if not, more than her, but Natasha wanted you, no, she needed you back. Her life felt empty without you. Her days felt all mushed together into a jumble of nothingness. For the past couple of days, it's been hitting her hard. The reality of it finally settling in ultimately. For the first couple of weeks, she convinced herself that she'd be at the compound for training, but as time went on, it was apparent that this was the place she'd have to call home once again.

It was the week of your honeymoon; she was a wreck, spending most of her days cooped up in her room or training. She should've been with you having the time of your lives, but instead, she was bounded to her bed, her phone in hand as she prayed you'd call. You never did.

----- A soft knock sounded at your door, you let out a gentle whine. You didn't want to see anyone. You just wanted to sit here and hope that eventually, you'd feel better. All you could do was watch sad romantic movies and cry. It wasn't healthy, you knew that much, but you were healing.  You knew it'd take time before you felt like yourself again. You just wished you could fast forward to that.

Another much harder knock sounded, causing you to groan, forcing yourself up from your couch. When you pulled the door open, you were met with Wanda's kind features. She wore a smile, but it fell because of the frown and puffiness of your eyes. You were in worse condition than the last time she saw you. You hated that you were the cause of the pout that played on her lips, so you tried to force a smile. "hey, maxi!" you tried to sound cheerful, but your voice was hoarse from crying.

"Hey, babes." you were glad that she didn't question you. You just wanted to enjoy her presence without the reminder of Nat. you let out a gentle sigh when she tugged you into a tight hug, nuzzling your face into the nape of her neck. If you were honest, you were glad that Wanda was here. If she weren't, you'd probably be watching some sad movie, devouring another carton of ice cream.

After she settled into your home, she offered to make you some dinner, you accepted eagerly. You couldn't remember the last time you had a good homecooked meal. "um..." you began as you watched the woman stir at the pot. she looked over her shoulder at you briefly, taking in your features. She knew you well, so she expected the words to spill past your lips even before they did. "how's nat?" you questioned, leaning against your head.

Wanda hated that you were asking about her after everything, but she also couldn't help but swoon at how caring and thoughtful you always were; that was one thing she loved about you.

"she's-" she paused for a moment, shrugging casually as Wanda looked back down at the pot. "not good." she chose to be truthful, telling you carefully how Natasha is barely even seen around the compound. You frowned lightly. You hoped that she was doing even slightly better than you. "oh..." you frowned, observing as Wanda moved with ease as if she was made to become a chef. She was such a natural. You wondered if, in some other life, that's what she'd do.

"How are you, though, baby?" you hummed lightly, sipping at your water for a moment so when you talked, it didn't come out too scratchy. "I miss her," you confessed, causing wanda's heart to pound. She knew you were compelled to miss her, but she just wished you could forget about her entirely. Wanda spun away from the stovetop, wiping her hands on a rag before she moved over to you. "I know you do, but you deserve better." she frowned when you shrugged.

"what was that?" she questioned, waving her finger around you, causing you to look up at her shyly. "what?"

"that shrug!" you let your shoulders drop in defeat as the woman leaned over the kitchen island to reach out for your hand. There was no reason for wanda to be holding your hand right now, but she'd find any excuse to touch you.  "You don't think you deserve better, hun?" her voice was so soft, the gentleness of it could make you cry.

"I don't know if anyone is better than her," you confessed. Wanda's chest tightened; she could be better. How didn't you see that? It pained Wanda in all honesty, she spent most of your friendship trying her hardest to win you over, and all you ever saw was Natasha.

"You deserve someone who won't cheat on you before your wedding." Jealousy was laced in her harsh tone, which made you look up at her, but she looked down at your intertwined hands. Her manner was always so gentle and soft when she spoke to you, and now all you could feel was anger radiate from her. she squeezed your hand gently, her thumb caressing your knuckles which let you know that she wasn't upset at you for your foolish thoughts.

"I just want you to be happy," she admitted, her voice soft as her eyes fluttered up to meet yours. "Anyone who could hurt you like that isn't worthy of your love." she was right, wanda was always right, and as much as it pained you to admit even if you ended up back with Natasha, you knew you'd never love her the same.

-------

Natasha laid in silence, her eyes trained on the ceiling. She tried her hardest to think about anything else other than you. Anything would be better than the wicked thoughts that taunted her. She knew she deserved it. She was a horrible person that deserved to be tormented for her actions. Her eyes burned with tears as she thought about you; the simple thought of your smile made her stomach hurt because now all she could imagine was the fact that she'd never be the reason for it again.

You were truthfully the best person she'd ever met, and because of her stupid decision, you were out of her life for good.  She hated that she was too stupid to see how much she wanted to commit to you. Her chest burned; she wanted nothing more than to go back in time to change everything.

She knew she'd stay home with you and spend the night showering you with nothing but love; that's all she wanted to do right now. She wanted to rush into your home and tell you a billion times that she was sorry, but she knew deep down that it wouldn't be enough, and she was emotionally ready to be turned away. She just wanted to ask to start over with you; she'd hope you'd say yes. "Nat!" Clint's voice boomed before her door swung open; she sat up in her bed, wiping frantically at her watery eyes.

"Listen, Nat! You fucked up, okay? But you can't just lay here forever." his voice was harsh, and it made a knot form in her throat. His tough love always worked before, but as she met his eyes, her lips quivered; it was clear that it wouldn't work this time, so he let out a soft sigh.

"Natty, I know you love her-" he paused to move beside her on her bed, his hand finding a place on her shoulder. She let out a soft sob, her hand coming to fly over her mouth while the other rested against her chest. He reeled her into his chest, holding her close against him. She wasn't a terrible person, she made a mistake, and Natasha needed to own it.

"You hurt her, Natasha... but you're not horrible..." he whispered, caressing her arm as she cried. She felt horrible; she felt like a monster. Her body ached as she cried, gripping onto the man's shirt in agony. Everything was so perfect between you and Natasha; there was never a reason for her to do what she had done. She wished she just spoke to you; you could make all her worries melt away.

Clint hated seeing Natasha in so much pain, he pitted her, but he couldn't help but be mad at her. He set you two up after months of Natasha pining over you; why would she ever want to mess that up? He could see how insanely flawless the relationship was; he could never justify her actions even if he tried.

"I just want to talk to her." she cried out, causing the man to sigh; he was her friend before anyone else's, so with that thought, he pulled his phone if his pocket and dialed your number. It perked her curiosity as the phone rang, and when it connected, she could hear your soft voice echo through the phone; it eased her completely.

"hey, kid," he spoke softly, causing you to hum lightly, greeting the man. You knew why he called; you didn't have the strength to hang up; you wanted to hear her. "is Natasha there?" you asked softly, your eyes fluttered closed, your heart pounded as you waited for his response.

"yeah..." he answered after some time, his gaze snapping down to the girl with tearful eyes. "she wanted to talk to you," he whispered, causing you to rub gently at the bridge of your nose. You shouldn't, you really shouldn't, but you wanted to. It scared you how much you actually wanted to speak to her; you hardly went that long without her, and now it had been nearly a month of no contact. You missed her; it was a haste decision when you uttered out, "put her on."

Natasha loved Clint at the moment; with shaky hands, she took the phone, watching as he got up and left. "hey baby," she rasped out, her eyes already watering up. "have you been crying?" you asked softly, rubbing your sweaty hand over your sweatpants. She cleared her throat, leaning back onto her bed to try and ease her nerves.

"Are you okay?" you questioned when you got no response. Natasha expected you to yell at her, tell her that she had no right to be so sad when all this mess was her fault but instead, you were the same usual soft, compassionate person that she fell in love with.

"I just miss you." her voice shook as her eyes began to flow freely once again; if she closed her eyes, she could see you, your bright smile that always managed to make her heart race. "I miss you too." it gave her hope that she shouldn't have. she tightened her hand over the phone, holding it so close to her ear so she couldn't miss out on anything you had to say.

"I know why you did it, Nat... I was scared too,"  you stated, your eyes clouded with tears, and your throat burned. "but I loved you, Natasha, and I was just so ready to be with you forever." That hurt her; hearing your voice break physically pained her more than anything ever could.

"I wish I could take it back. I only want you." this was a moment of weakness, you knew that, but Natasha's voice was so genuine and soft.

"Natty, as much as I want to tell you to come over, I can't, baby." The usual pet name rolled over your tongue too quickly; you hardly caught it until it sounded into the phone. "I know," she whispered, tugging her blanket over her body to form some comfort. "I'm sorry."

"I forgive you."

------

"I spoke to her," you whispered to your friend as she lounged in your bed, helping you find an outfit for Tony's wedding. She sat up swiftly, her eyes trained on you. "why?" she tried her best to keep her emotions at bay, but it was hard as she gazed at you.

"Clint called." you shrugged, moving to the mirror to look over the tight dress you pulled on. You could still see wanda in the mirror, roll her eyes. Your eyebrows knitted together in confusion.

"you aren't thinking about getting back with her, are you?" she questioned, her heart cracking when you shrugged. "I don't know, wanda, maybe." You ran a hand through your hair when she huffed out.

"That's the dumbest shit-"

"I thought you wanted me to be happy!" you suddenly turned, inching your way over to wanda, anger dripping from your words. Why couldn't she be a good friend and tell you that getting back with her isn't that terrible. she shot up from the bed, nearing you, causing your breathing to hitch as you looked up at her. "not with her." you huffed lightly, moving to turn away from her but she caught your wrist.

"Why do you care so much, wanda? It's my life!"

"Because I love you! I can't stand to see you get hurt again," she yelled out; she never raised her voice at you before, but tensions were so high, she couldn't control it. "I've watched you fall in love with her time after time. I can't do this anymore!" with that, the witch left you there, your breathing uneven. Your thoughts were scattered as you tried to understand it all; Wanda loved you.

How couldn't you see it before? Now that you thought about it, it was painfully obvious. The girl had been practically throwing herself at you for years; you always just figured it was friendly and innocent. You knew everything was different now, though.

You moved quickly through your home, eager to find the woman who just confessed her love for you. You managed to run down the stairs just in time for Wanda to be opening up your front door. "Wanda!" you sounded desperate as you called out for her. she let out a soft sigh, turning her head to glance over at you.

Wanda softened when she noticed the faint tears that clouded your eyes. "Don't go." you pleaded; her lips parted when you choked out a sob.

"Don't leave me, Wanda," you begged, and in an instant, she shut the door before making her way over to you with open arms. You cried out when she embraced you tightly, pressing a gentle kiss to your hairline. You wrapped your arms around her shoulders, nuzzling your face into her neck.

Wanda knew this would take some work, but she was willing to try if you were.

----- When Natasha first saw you, she was starstruck. Natasha felt the same way she did the first night she met you, like a high schooler with a crush, but then she noticed how your fingers laced with Wanda's. It was a couple of months since the breakup, she still felt broken up about it, but you looked like you were happy. The way you grinned when you embraced Pepper and congratulated her made Natasha's heart pound.

It should've been the two of you who were celebrating your marriage but instead, she was staring at you from across the bar, not daring to make a move to talk to you. She didn't want to ruin your night. She'd do anything to ensure that smile stayed on your lips. You were all that Natasha wanted; she was sure you'd be the one she let getaway.

When the music slowed, you didn't hesitate to urge Wanda to dance with you, and she agreed quickly. Her hands rested gently across your waist as she stared down at you with pure adoration. "You know..." you started, your hand coming up to rest gently against her cheek. She leaned into your palm, beaming at you.

"I want this if you can give me the time." wanda leaned forward to press a gentle kiss to your forehead; wanda could wait forever just an ounce of your love. She has waited this long; if you needed time to heal, she could give you that.  

"Take your time, baby." her voice came out so soft, and you couldn't help the smile that formed on your lips. You wanted to thank her, but you knew words wouldn't be enough; wanda had been there whenever you needed her; you felt like there was only one way you could really repay her, so you leaned forward and caught her lips in a gentle kiss. It was quick, but it proved that you were serious.

Honestly, you always had a slight crush on Wanda way before Natasha; you swept it under the rug when you met the spy, but now as you stared up at her, your heart swooned. It scared you, but you knew better than to imagine Wanda ever hurting you.

"Don't hurt me," you whispered out, leaning your head against her shoulder; she let out a gentle sigh. She knew you'd have so many underline trust issues because of Natasha, but Wanda could never imagine herself ever doing something like that. You were so sweet and precious; all Wanda wanted to do was protect and care for you.

"Never," she promised, her arms growing tight around you, as much as it frightened you, you trusted her.

------

As much as you wanted to pretend that Natasha didn't exist that night, you knew you couldn't do that. The only way you could do that was if you had closure. With a shaky breath, you followed the woman out to the balcony, noticing the way she hugged herself for warmth. "Hey," you called out, your voice wary when she turned.

She knew she lost you when you looked at her with a gentle smile, you extending your hand offering the drink you had brought for her, she took it, thanking you lightly. "so wanda?" she questioned softly, you couldn't help the smile that formed on your lips at the thought of the girl.

"yeah..." you uttered out, wrapping your arms around yourself when the breeze blew. "I always had that feeling," Natasha confessed, offering you a tiny, almost knowing smile. You wondered if that's why she grew so hesitant.

"what do you mean?" you raised your eyebrow, looking out into the view. It was calming to be so high up, looking over the city. "You never looked at me the way you did her." she shrugged; her eyes lingered on you as you stood next to her. "I did love you," you whispered, snapping your gaze over to her; she nodded. "I love you," she expressed, her smile turning sad. "but I'm happy for you." you sigh, leaping forward to embrace the woman.

She needed that; she honestly did. She felt eased as she held onto you, not quite ready to let you go, and she was glad that you hadn't moved. "we'll be okay." Natasha muttered, causing you to nod, nuzzling your face into her neck. You knew that you and Natasha could be friends; everything would work out the way it supposed to, and that thought left you content.

"you ready to go, baby?" her voice boomed, causing you to break apart from the hug, looking over at the woman in the doorway who held her jacket open for you. You smiled lightly, moving away from Natasha to greet Wanda, slipping yourself into the coat when she held it up for you.

"I'll see you later, Nat." she nodded, looking over at the both of you as wanda's hand slipped into your own. "See you." she smiled weakly at you, and then you turned with wanda and left her there. As much as her body ached, she was glad you were okay. She understood that she fucked it up; she'd have to live with that for the rest of her life.

If she was honest, she still felt a thread of hope, even if it was absurd to think. Crazier things have happened in her life; maybe she was just in denial, or perhaps she was right. After all, you always ended up back with her.

[unprofessional-bard]

Don't Push It, Pt. 1

Unprofessional Bard's Masterlist

Part 2 (1/2)

Based on this request.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female!Reader

Warnings: Age gap (the reader is 26 and Joel is 53), a lot of teasing/sexual tension, implied romantic feelings.

Summary: It's been going on for years. They both know better than to act on their feelings, but patience starts running thin when a few boundaries are crossed.

Word Count: 5.280

Author's Note: Okay y'all so I am a whore for Joel with long hair and I unintentionally made this into a fix-it au where Joel is alive. Also, the reader is going to have some OC characteristics to fit the scenario better. Finally, this fic changes POV's a lot, so I'm gonna clear that up:

• ----R and below: The reader's POV.

• ----J and below: Joel's POV.

• ----B and below: Both POV's.

The fic starts off with Joel's POV.

Enjoy!

gif credits: nikolai-stavrogin

"Hey, Joel," Dina called over to the man sipping coffee on his porch.

"Mornin' Dina," He replied as his daughter's girlfriend walked over to him. Her baby bump had grown a little more and it never failed to put a smile on Joel's face.

"There's a little trouble with the patrol today," She said. "Jesse won't be able to make it to patrol with (Y/N)."

Shit.

"And they're askin' me to fill in?" He sat up a little.

"Yup, Maria told me to ask you if-"

"No problem, sure, I'll do it." He spoke nonchalantly, then asked if Jesse was alright. Dina told him she wasn't sure, that it must be something important for him to miss patrol, which made Joel nod: "You told (Y/N) too, or...?"

"No, but she's gonna be there regardless. I doubt that she knows."

"Alright, thanks Dina," Joel got up and she smiled in return before walking over to Ellie's place.

It was wrong. By the lord it was wrong, but he couldn't help it. You were fierce, confident, determined and disciplined; qualities he came to appreciate in time, but a bit differently only when it came to you. He shouldn't want you, an unknown source in his mind kept telling himself, but he did. He didn't know why, he never found himself being attracted to a woman your age, yet you had him under your spell. Oh the things you did to him...

Worst part was, he couldn't have you, whether he liked it or not. Nevermind the fact that you were too young for him, you probably didn't want him anyways- despite the crystal clear signals he got from you. It was just how you were, though: A little physical and perhaps a little flirty, but he could just be confusing that with your confidence.

Or he could be overthinking everything.

Joel readied his backpack, but realised there was still a little more than an hour before the rendez-vous, so he decided to head over to your place to tell you about the news to kill some time. After he made it there and knocked on your door while calling your name a couple of times, which were left unanswered, your neighbour curiously looked over the fences and called over to Joel: "She left a while ago... For the gym, I think."

"Thank you," Joel smiled politely and earned a wave from the lady in return. He took his time as he walked over to the gym. After he arrived, he looked around for awhile to spot where you were, but when he found it, the sight almost made him choke.

There you were, ankles crossed as you pulled yourself up and chin over the barfix with closed eyes, a frown and a clenched jaw. Sweat laced the sides of your face and Joel's eyes wandered lower: You were wearing a sports bra and matching shorts which hugged your frame tightly and the sun was shining directly onto your muscles, which the lord himself carved out and were also sweaty, but Joel didn't care - it made you look more attractive, if anything. You let out a huff and lowered yourself down, while he tried to collect himself. He didn't want to disturb you so he decided to wait until you finished...

...but you didn't seem to be finishing any time soon. He didn't want to look like a creep as he stood there and waited, so after you did another pull up and let yourself down, he cleared his throat.

----R

"(Y/N), here you are."

Had you not been already hanging, you definitely would've fell when you heard Joel's voice reach your ears. You opened your eyes to see him slowly approach you, his stupid thumb stuck in behind his stupid belt.

You hated it: You hated finding this man attractive and you hated your guts for occasionally flirting with him - him, who probably would never look at you the way you looked at him. He liked you, of course, he enjoyed your company but not the way you wanted him to. You hated that you had a crush on this man, who became even more gorgeous as he let his hair grow over the last few years, you also hated how he neatly parted it to the left.

Patrol with him was both a treat and a curse at the same time. You got to spend time with him, which made it a treat, but when you watched him- saw him in action, how aggressive he was, heat started to pool between your thighs. He was so rough and precise as he was smart; he always knew what to do under any circumstance, so you almost never worried when you went out with him. He made you feel safe, praised you and played with your heart when he responded to your flirting and nothing came out of it.

You hated it because your little "crush" on him was pathetic, for someone as confident as you. Sure, you teased and flirted with him, but one praise as simple as you did well today and you'd be melting on spot. You even tried to get with other people to distract yourself, to no avail. They weren't Joel.

None of them could ever be Joel.

"Good morning!" You said with a high pitched voice, reflecting your struggle to keep yourself up.

"To you too," He chuckled at your state and watched as you pulled yourself up slowly. "Hey, listen. Jesse ain't gonna make it to patrol today so I'm fillin' in for him."

----B

The way you faltered a little didn't escape him: "Why? Is he okay?"

"I dunno, but I'm sure he is. Something important must've come up," Joel informed you, not wanting to worry you as you seemed to care about him. A lot. Ugh.

"Tsk," You breathed out and closed your eyes to focus on keeping your head above the metal bar.

Joel then spoke again: "Yeah, I was just here to let ya know."

"Okay, well-" You exhaled audibly and suddenly let yourself go. The force of the action sent you flying a little and it almost made you bump into him: "Woah, oh, sorry-"

"Woah there," You both chuckled at the same time. Joel held you by your elbows to help you balance yourself and your heart rate picked up pace when you realised how close your face was to his chest a moment ago - the chest you wanted to get your hands on: How muscular was he? How many scars did he have there? How would it feel to run your fingers through the hair as you ro-

"Uhm, yeah, as I was saying," You snapped yourself back to reality and took a small step back, disappointed by the way his fingers let go of your arms: "I'm done here, just need to do a couple of stretches, then head back and take shower."

"Right. Well, I'll see you at the gate, then?"

"Uh, sure, yeah."

You didn't know what else to say other than stay. You wanted him near you and around you, you wanted to show off to him and you wanted his attention, so you had to think quick.

Joel didn't want to leave either, even though you were going to spend the whole day together. He still nodded and turned around to leave. It was then, when a brilliant idea crossed your mind: "Actually, Joel?" He turned around, gave you a soft look that made you want to run up to him and kiss all over his face. "Could you help me with my stretches?"

If he'd been drinking or eating anything, he most definitely would've choked: "Help you?"

"Yeah," You flashed a smile at him. "It's simple, you just gotta press me down and keep me in place." The widening of his eyes, puzzled face and his tense posture made you shy. "Eh- Normally, Jesse helped me with them."

True. Some stretches required someone to push your body to its limits - when you worked out alone, you stuck to simpler stretches, but right now, you needed a reason to have him by your side.

Joel was torn between leaving, like a responsible person who knew when to walk away would. He was responsible, yes, but his moral compass was thrown out of the window whenever you joined the picture. So far, he wanted to think he was handling his emotions well- by not acting on them and not talking about them.

Now, however, it was as if he was facing the last straw. He had a few boundaries left to cross, and this was one of them.

"Plus, I'm a bit tired to do them. Will you help me?"

Lies. All lies.

You'd been doing these stretches for long enough, even though you'd worked hard, you weren't tired at all. Joel thought this to be the case, so he tried to go around it: "You sure? I mean, how're you tired?"

"I've been training like hell this morning," You settled on the mat. "I don't wanna do these stretches, but I have to. I'm not in the mood to pull a muscle today."

That was good enough for him really: "'Kay," He sighed. "What do you need me to do?"

Your eyes glowed in excitement before you faced forward and explained: "Im gonna lean forward, like this-" You extended your legs forward and lowered yourself down. "All you gotta do is press on my back and stop me from moving away for a few seconds."

A few seconds which felt like five minutes, truth be told.

As soon as he touched your bare back, you sighed, then forced it into a hiss. He immediately retreated his hands, thinking he hurt you, pushing the ludicrous idea that you might have moaned away immediately.

His hands were big and a little cold comparing to your skin which was on fire after the workout, but you'd be lying if you said you didn't do that on purpose. You straightened up and looked at him with an innocent smile: "Your hands are cold."

Not cold enough to make you react like that, obviously.

Joel offered an awkward chuckle from the back of his throat: "You're gonna have to deal with it, missy."

And deal with it you did- barely. Christ, that was a bad idea, your worst one yet. To have his hands on your bare skin, pressing you down made your cheeks burn and mouth hang open as he kept you in place. You almost didn't hear him when he spoke, too busy trying to comprehend the size of his hands and how they'd feel around your throa-

"How many of these do you gotta do?"

"Uh, dunno," You blurted out. "Not too many."

Joel was partly glad, it felt so wrong yet it was just a simple act of help you could've asked from anyone. After 20 seconds of staying like that, you straightened. You went into a head-to-knee position and gave him an okay to press you down again.

You switched to the other leg after half a minute, but you were running out of ideas. There weren't any positions left that you could use his help with, so you played one last card to ruin him: "More."

"W-What?"

Good riddance.

"Press a little harder," You pretended to focus and tried your best not to smirk, knowing you had him where you wanted.

"Oh- hm," He cleared his throat and pressed a little more down on your back. If your plan hadn't backfired and made you almost moan through your teeth, everything was going accordingly.

Joel went to pull back, but stopped when you added: "It's been a while since I did these..."

Christ.

"That enough?" He slowly retreated his hands and stood up, watching you lean up where you sat.

"Yup, that'll be it," You smiled and blinked a couple of times. If Joel had known better, he would've thought you were making him do that, then being all cute on purpose-

It was going to be a long day.

----R

Patrol with the older Miller went as normally as it always was. Part one usually went like this: Meet up at the gate, get your rifles and horses, ride out, reach checkpoint one and sign your names. The road to checkpoint one didn't have any trouble, it usually never did. It was more quiet between you two than usual though. Had you gone too far?

"So, uh," You said once the two of you mounted your horses again. "You coming to the dance tonight?"

"What?" He snapped his head in your direction, looking clueless. "What dance?"

"Well, not a dance exactly but- you know what I mean?" You started riding. "The adults only event?"

He looked really distracted, a bit tense even: "Oh, right. You know those ain't my thing."

"I know," You nodded with a soft smile. "But I haven't seen you in any event ever since you decked Seth."

"Decked?" Joel chuckled bitterly at the memory.

"He deserved it, and more, that prick," You rolled your eyes, making him chortle.

"And nobody managed to shut up about it for the whole month," He sighed with a gorgeous yet tired smile on his face which you managed to see just in time. "So, no thanks. I'll pass."

"Aw, come on," You whined. "You can't avoid coming to these events forever. Please?"

He gave you a confused look, his smile slowly disappearing but not in a bad way: "Why?"

A good question. Oh, no reason, just wanna try and make a move on you, quite possibly jump your bones if it all goes well.

"I wanna make sure you haven't lost your ability to socialise." You offered.

"Really? Why, you're my momma now?"

"Ew, no," You both laughed. "Can't I be sure my friend is alive and well occasionally?"

----J

Friend.

A word that made Joel stop and think.

You saw him as a friend, huh? Two people, with clear sexual tension and an obvious age gap between them- Friends was an awkward description for him, but it was better than nothing.

He opened his mouth to reply, to insist that he was indeed alive and well, but you stopped him: "You know what I mean."

The conversation was making him a little distracted, he noticed, so he decided to keep his mouth shut until you reached checkpoint two. You didn't press him on, which was also a delight. That's another thing he liked about you: You knew your bounds- in patrol anyways. Or maybe it was because you got to know him well over the time, knew what he liked or not.

Part two went quieter too- infected and conversation wise. Not even a single runner was on sight as you swept through the small cabins and houses. Except for the occasional clear's and nothing here's, you didn't say anything else. Joel itched to talk to you, about anything to break the silence, but he was too lost in thought.

When you finally made it back to Jackson, you finally spoke up: "So? You coming?" He chuckled, mostly out of relief, then you added: "I found a new outfit, I wanna know what you think."

That caught Joel's attention. With a curious smile, after handing over your horses, he asked: "What outfit?"

"You'll see... If you come." You smirked, your close proximity making Joel's heart race.

"Don't get your hopes up," He sighed with a small grin and tucked his thumb behind his belt, the other one gripping the strap of his rifle.

"You're the worst," You punched his shoulder with mock upset, making him chortle and stumble a little to the right. "Anyways, I'll see you tomorrow then."

Joel remained quiet, then you walked away with a soft smile gracing your lips. The words sunk deeper than he would've liked, a sudden wave of guilt soaking his guts with regret, even though you didn't sound disappointed or upset. Lips pursed, he watched you hand your rifle to Peter and sign off, then leave; his steps coming to a halt as you did.

He just might check out what was up at the dance tonight, if he could successfully move himself out of his comfort zone in the following few hours.

----R

"Well well, look who it is," Tommy grinned when you approached the doors of the pub. The night had settled across the sky by the time you stepped outside your place. The sound of music and chatter of the people from inside filled your ears.

"Yours truly," You smirked. "It's crowded in there huh?"

"It sure is," Tommy said as he turned around to lead you inside. "Adults only events tend to attract more people, as y'can guess. Don't you look pretty today."

"Why thank you." You smiled playfully: "For no one, but myself, at that."

You lied through your teeth. You had dressed up in the silly hope that Joel would actually show up. You had been planning on it ever since you came across the item wrapped around your hips in an abandoned clothes shop a few weeks ago, and this event was the perfect excuse for you to wear it. For him.

"I ain't sayin' nothing!" Tommy raised his hands up in defense. "Figured that much, haven't seen anyone catch your interest in a long time."

Ha. Nice.

The atmosphere was lively and the air was warm, full of energy. Chatter and dancing went about the packs of people scattered across the space, but you couldn't see Joel, much to your disappointment - you weren't surprised though. What surprised you was Jesse suddenly showing up.

"Where's Ellie and Dina?" You asked after a while of teasing him about missing patrol.

"They decided to stay behind, I guess." He shrugged.

"What can I get y'all?" Tommy smiled, suddenly appearing behind the counter. Without waiting for an answer, he filled two glasses and pushed them towards you. You and Jesse looked at each other for a brief moment, before knocking it back at one go. "Woah there..."

A round of laughter later, you felt someone's presence behind you, then they tapped you on the shoulder: "Hey, (Y/N)!"

Much to your disappointment, once more, it was a boy named Mark. He was a year older than you, had no features whatsoever matching Joel's prettier ones and he took an obvious liking to you, which in truth you didn't appreciate, even though he wasn't weird about it or anything. You faked a smile and turned to him a little: "Hi."

"Good to see you," Sure. "How, uh, how are you?"

"Busy, actually," You pointed at the glass Tommy was refilling for you.

"Mind if I join?" He made himself comfortable on the stool next to you.

"Yeah. I do." Your smile never faded but your words were laced with poison.

He looked between you, Tommy and Jesse, mortified at your answer: "W- Heh, well, would you wanna dance later, then-?"

"No, I don't." You spoke calmly and turned to face Jesse again, only for him to move to tap you on the shoulder, which Tommy stopped from happening.

"Why don't you go home, huh?" He grabbed his wrist firmly, but not hard enough to leave a bruise of course. "The lack of oxygen in your brain's clearly stoppin' you from understandin' a word as simple as no."

You looked over at the younger Miller, a stern look on his face which seemed to make Mark piss himself. Suddenly, an even deeper voice was heard behind the boy: "I advise you to listen to him, son."

You turned completely in your seat to see Joel grabbing Mark by the shoulders, making him jump, then remove him from the seat carefully. Mark's legs were quick to oblige, making him walk towards the exit, but Joel held him in place: "A-ah, what do you say to the lady?"

"I'm s-sorry, (Y/N)," He nodded quickly. "I'll never disturb you again, I promise."

"Good boy," Joel patted him on the back, which sent him running to the door. Your cheeks were suddenly burning and you couldn't help but smile shyly.

"Tsk, what a jackass," Tommy nodded disapprovingly as Joel took the now empty space next to you.

"You decided to show then, huh?" You smirked at Joel.

"Yeah, figured you'd break someone's wrists and make 'em eat it," He chuckled, tipping his head at his brother in a greeting -God he looked so handsome, was that a new shirt?- before he continued: "Decided it'd be a shame to miss it."

You giggled and lightly pushed at his arm, almost immediately feeling the muscles underneath the rolled up sleeve of his blue shirt: "I'll take that as a I came because you asked and I listened for once." The exchange, obviously, didn't go unnoticed by his brother and Jesse, which made you sit upright suddenly: "Tommy was the one who was gonna break his wrist anyways..."

"Nobody gets to disturb anyone here, especially right in front of me," He said and slid a glass to his brother.

Jesse joined in: "I doubt it, but should he ever-"

"Aw, you guys are spoiling me," You grinned and waved your hand down, pressing the other onto your chest.

----J

You looked beautiful. You were wearing a plain, dark green, mid-thigh, flare skirt; which could pass as a miniskirt, but Joel was no fashion expert. You always did come up with the rarest clothing items (like your sports set that morning), so he wasn't surprised that you happened across the skirt. You also had a simple, white, v-neck t-shirt on- which all in all was the reason you left Joel speechless: You could be wearing something as simple as these, but you'd still look so damn pretty.

A few minutes later, after Jesse and Tommy disappeared in different directions and you were finally left alone, Joel spoke up: "Is this the-"

"What made you-" You gave each other a brief look before chuckling: "You go first."

"Ah, I was gonna ask if this was the outfit you wanted me to see," He said, briefly looking down to point at your skirt.

He watched you run a hand through your hair and bite your bottom lip before answering: "Yeah..." You got up and stuffed your hands in your pockets, which made Joel's heart sizzle. "What do you think?"

He gave you a genuine smile: "I think you look beautiful."

The shock on your face made Joel panick a little, but when you offered a shy little smile, he relaxed: "You- Really?"

He gave you a single, slow nod in acknowledgement, his smile grew bigger when you beamed at him and offered him a quiet thank you, then sat back. You were staring hard at your glass, clearly avoiding his gaze and he found it rather cute, but didn't comment on it.

He was looking forward to chat with you, after all, you were the reason why he showed up, but you were unfortunately dragged away by a couple of friends, Jesse included...

To dance.

An upbeat song he didn't recognise started playing, putting you and another boy, Mick, to action. Everyone backed away to give you two space, then started off with what seemed to be something you'd been practicing for a while. You mirrored each other's moves, it was similar to some folk dance he'd watched way before the outbreak, but it most definitely wasn't a folk dance. Your arms linked occasionally, hands on your hips as you crossed each other's legs with fast movements and other types of moves Joel couldn't name if he tried, but it was organised and fun to watch. It wasn't intimate, too, just a silly little dance as you called it minutes later when you finished and walked to the bar for a drink. You didn't stay long, though, just downed your drink, winked at him and went back to the stage where you and Mick (but mostly you) stole the show.

It went on for two more rounds, to the point your t-shirts were absolutely soaked and your legs couldn't take it anymore. Joel had a particularly hard time in his seat, watching your skirt float around your thighs made him feel embarrassed with himself. Tommy even went as far as to tease him about his constant squirming, but a glare from his older brother was enough to shut him up.

The last dance finished off with you in Mick's arms, leaning back in his hold and closing your eyes with laughter. Everyone clapped you both, which earned you a kiss on the cheek from Mick- which you returned. Joel's jaw clenched unintentionally, even though you and him didn't appear to be more than friends.

Stop. Stop it, you idiot.

He couldn't care less about these types of things, drama about who's dating who and whatnot, but when it came to you he naturally grew curious.

He watched you, eyelids struggling to keep themselves open as Jesse led you and helped you onto the stool, next to Joel once more. You huffed and giggled, eyes closed with sweat droplets on your forehead. He couldn't help it when his smile grew wider at your tipsy state.

What he didn't see coming was the sudden hand on his thigh and your back against his arm, letting your head drop onto his shoulder as you let out a brief laugh: "Never let me dance and drink at the same time again."

Joel didn't know what to say, he quickly looked around for Jesse only to find him already gone and a couple of people staring at the both of you. With a rush of panic, he responded: "I don't think I'm the one you should say that to, darlin'."

Your hand and the rest of your body immediately retreated when you jumped at his voice: "Joel?!" You looked a little embarrassed and he couldn't help but smirk. "Uh, where's Jesse?"

The question almost made him scrunch up his face, but he patiently waited until the end of the conversation, which was after you've walked away to find the boy in question and he was alone with his own thoughts... Jealousies...

"He dropped you off and went over there, I think." Joel nodded to the direction he thought Jesse went off to - he didn't see though, he was too busy focusing on you when your fingertips had brushed somewhere dangerously near his crotch.

"Huh," You stared around to find him, but Joel figured you were too intoxicated to actually see that far. "You need to stop wearing the same clothes."

He raised a brow at that: "You tell him that."

"Oh I will," You grinned mischievously and suddenly grabbed Joel's glass of whiskey from his hand, then downed it at one go before he could intervene.

"Hey!" He tried to grab the glass from you but you leaned back. "I think you've had enough for the night."

"Says who-?" You pouted and at the very same time, lost your balance, realising that you leaned a little too back. However, Joel caught you; one hand on your arm, the other on your waist and he pulled you back - he didn't know if you did it purposefully, but you practically fell into his body: "Oh! I'm sorry-" You laughed, not looking sorry at all. "Thanks, Joel," You purred, extending the 's' and the 'l' at the end of each word as you grabbed onto his biceps. "You saved me."

"Pfft," Joel couldn't help but let his hand linger on your waist as he made sure you stood in place. Your eyes met when you lifted your head from his chest - the meaning behind his hazel gaze and your own was similar and it lasted for what felt like a whole minute, while in reality it was no longer than a few seconds.

You finally let his arms go and he took it as his cue to remove his hand from your waist (which, for a moment, felt like it had been glued there): "So... You enjoying yourself, old man?"

Joel sighed through his nose, amused at how the alcohol in your system was slowing your speech, then went back to how he had been sitting before you came. Just when you asked, the smooth, familiar tune of Ain't No Sunshine started playing. After all the excitement, a slower music felt nice: "Sure. You?"

"Oh I sure am," You nodded and leaned back against the counter with something of a triumphant smile.

"I can tell," Joel replied, then without turning his head, side eyed you. His stare later on moved down to your skirt. "Why'd you get all dressed up for, really?"

"Huh?" You blinked, not processing if he was asking what you thought he was.

"I, uh- just never took you for the skirt type."

"Is that so?" You asked, eyes widening. "Well, just trying on a new outfit..." You looked down and bit your lower lip, making Joel's heart skip a beat. He mentally kicked himself for not leaving right then and there and continuing to talk to you: "There's actually another reason."

"Hm?"

"There's this guy," You turned towards him, placed your arm paralleled across his on the counter and leaned forward a little, pretending to look around. His fingertips scratched against the wooden surface of the counter at the mention of this guy in question. "I don't know his name, but maybe you do?"

He just raised a brow when you looked at him innocently: "He's a bit old, around this tall," Your hand went back and forth in the air as you tried to size the man's height in your mind. "Has pretty, long, graying hair with an also graying beard... A little scar on his nose," You looked at him and leaned in a little more, invading his personal space but not touching him, then pointed at the exact spot on your nose and it was then, Joel realised, that you were indeed describing himself. "He's wearing this blue shirt and, honestly, it would look better on him if he opened another button or two."

I know, I know

Hey I oughta leave young thing alone

But ain't no sunshine when she's gone

He wanted to counter, tease you back, lean down and taste your lips, then place a kiss or two on your neck and bite it softly just to hear you moan quietly into his ear- he also needed to get his shit together, as much as he wanted to do all of that.

He couldn't quite believe his self control when he leaned away from you, especially since the tip of your noses almost touched and he felt your hot breath on his lips. He cleared his throat and quickly looked around to see if anyone was looking- no one had seen the rather intimate interaction so he spoke: "I don't know who that is."

The disappointment on your features was like a knife twisting up in his guts. You blinked a couple of times, but didn't lean back: "S- Sure you do..."

"I don't," Joel insisted, his voice stern. "Maybe you should look for someone else."

Your disappointment turned into embarrassment and anger, making you frown and lean back: "Excuse me."

Ain't no sunshine when she's gone

And this house just ain't no home

Anytime she goes away

And with that, you got up and stormed away, leaving Joel wanting, aching and ashamed.

Anytime she goes away

Anytime she goes away

Anytime she goes away

[honeybunnybeez]

Hugging you close but it still feels too far

♡Genre:Fluff with angst at the end

♡C!Schlatt x GN!reader

♡Format:Fanfiction

♡Summary: Schlatt feels a headache coming on but thankfully you've come at just the right time to help it go away. Unfortunately, a different kind of ache rears its ugly head.

♡WARNING: Self-loathing thoughts on Schlatt's part.

"Are you fucking serious right now?" Everyone in the meeting room flinches as Schlatt spits out those words. His glare forces everyone in the room to look down at their laps, not daring to make a single peep as the president starts to slowly lose his temper.

This whole meeting has been quite a mess, with employees coming late and important documents being misplaced and forgotten. Honestly, Schlatt's usually drunk off his rockers 24/7 and yet he's surprisingly the most prepared for this meeting compared to the rest of his staff.

"Y'know what, fuck it, we'll continue this another day, this isn't important right?" It kinda was important but everyone in the meeting room nods along anyway and says that moving it to tomorrow won't exactly make much of a difference. "Good, good, now get the fuck out, all of you, right now."

They don't waste a single second in scrambling to get out of the meeting room and out of Schlatt's sight, fearing the consequences if they were to stay.

Schlatt sighs and leans back into his chair, massaging his temple. He feels a headache coming on, he needs a drink.

"Why is it that everytime I come to visit you at work your employee's always look like they're on the verge of passing out from fright?" Oh, nevermind, maybe he won't need that drink after all, it seems that someone better just popped in.

"Well hello to you too, sugar," Schaltt pushes his chair away from the desk, looking up at you with a giant grin. "Lock the door behind you, will you?"

(Read more placed, heavy self-loathing thoughts under the cut.)

You roll your eyes but do as your told, the door clicks shut and Schlatt lets out a sigh, opening his arms out wide.

"...Really? Here?" You can't help but be a little suprised by his action, knowing how he likes to keep the 'mushy shit' on the down low.

"I have a reputation to uphold, sugar," you remember him saying to you countless of times whenever you tried to get physically closer to him in public, "and I can't let that be ruined by all of this soft and sweet bullshit, understand?"

"Are you sure?" You feel like you're being fooled right now, this feels very out of character for him, and truthfully it is, even he feels weird doing this, but a part of him is aching for you and all he can think of is having you by his side.

"...Please..." ugh, you hate and love it when he used his manners, it always made you give into what he wanted way quicker than you should. Deciding that second guessing won't do anything you give him what he wants, sitting on his lap and letting him gently headbutt your cheek and under your chin.

"Do the thing I like," he demands, resting his head on your chest. When you don't move quick enough for his liking, he takes matters into his own hands quite literally by grabbing your hand and placing it on top of his head. He lets out a satisfied groan when he feels you running your fingers through his hair, helping him soothe his headache with your gentle touches.

"I'm pretty sure if your employee's could see you now, they'd probably stop being so scared shitless of you knowing that you like to be pet," you can't help but tease him as you watch his face shift into one of absolute bliss as you kiss his temple and hold him closer to you.

"I will bite your jugular clean off if you tell a single soul about this, you hear me?" As if to prove a point, he presses a hard kiss to where your jugular should be, tickling you a little with his facial hair.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever you say Mister President."

After a while of your gentle carasses, he lets out a big yawn, his grip on your waist loosening and his eyes growing heavy as you continue to massage the top of his head carefully. He starts to ask himself when was the last time he properly cuddled with you back home in the safety of your shared bed, it's probably been ages.

'Maybe I should change that,' a distant part of him thinks.

'You keep saying that idiot, but literally nothing ever changes, if anything you keep getting WORSE.'

...Oh, fuck no. It's starting again, those stupid thoughts of his that whisper in the back of his head everytime he finally has a moment of silence with you. He just wants one day without them, one day of just letting you love him like you're supposed to, is that so much to fucking ask for?

'You keep asking for way to much, ever notice that?'

'They love you enough but do you ever show them that you love them back?'

'Fucking useless, it's only a matter of time before they start seeing you that way too.'

God, he wants them to shut up, please just shut the fuck up. Please-

"Hey," he jolts slightly when your voice shakes him out of his aggressive growing thoughts, "getting tired there, princess?"

He wants to argue with you that he isn't sleepy at all and to never call him princess again but as another yawn escapes him, he decides that maybe a nap isn't the worse thing in the world right now and that pet name argument could always be brought up another time. He doesn't verbally respond to you, choosing instead to nuzzle closer into your chest and shutting his eyes.

"Don't even think of leaving me alone here before I wake up, (y/n)," it's more of an order than a threatening warning with how sleepily he slurs his words. If you weren't practically on him at the moment, you swear that you wouldn't have been able to make out his mumbling demand.

"Of course I won't, you big baby." You struggle to stiffle a small laugh when you hear him groan and lazily hit your arm at the affectionate insult. "I'll always be here by your side for as long as you want me to."

He can never stop his heart from aching whenever he hears you say such sincere words like it's practically second nature to you. Why is every part of you so genuine and why does it hurt him much more than it should whenever you do anything remotely loving to him like he deserves it. Maybe that's why he doesn't always come home to you like he's supposed to.

'You don't fucking deserve any of this,' a sudden thought of his screams, causing his heart to jump. His fingers grip onto your shirt for a moment by instinct when he feels that thought linger longer than it should have.

"Hey, you okay-?"

"Fine!" He cuts you off quickly before you can properly finish your sentence. "I'm- I'm fine, it's just the usual shakes. Im going to sleep so kindly shut the fuck up, alright?"

He doesn't give you room to respond as he nuzzles even harder against your chest and goes back to closing his eyes. He tries to steady his thoughts again and after awhile he thinks he's finally succeeds in doing so. He can feel himself slowly starting to drift off but before he can do so, the light brush of lips can be felt on his temple. He knows what this usually leads to and he silently pleads for those words to not spill from your lips but of course they do, they always do.

"I love you."

Schlatt knows that any hope for a dreamless slumber is lost as his heart and head fills up with guilt like it always did when you held him back home, whispering sweet nothings to him thinking you were lulling him to sleep when instead you were only fueling the thoughts in his head to shout at him louder and louder.

He constantly scolds and reminds himself that all of this isn't worth it, that he should just end things with you now to stop the constant cycle of personal torment, but Schlatt's never been known for being a rational person who cares about the well being of others, and it seems that it translates to himself as well. Really, as angry as he wants to be with you for all the heartache you cause him, he knows that there's truly no one else to blame for his pain but himself.

A/N: Will I ever be able to write c!Schlatt content without making it sad? Apparently not- ^^' I just really love angst when it comes to him. Anyways, I hope you all enjoyed reading this!

(Requests are open and anon is on!)

[lightrises]

"Only in allowing her to pass..." — Hornet, The Radiance, and the means by which Hallownest turned its victims against each other

A quick note: I read Hollow Knight as an anti-colonialist text. As such I'll be touching on topics related to colonialism as it's depicted in the world of the game, and said analysis will reflect both a sympathetic take on The Radiance and a critique of The Pale King that won't pull its punches. If this sounds up your alley, hello and thank you for the read! Let us be sad about these bugs together.

———

So!! A while back I realized something about pre-canon that felt rather... "curious" is one way to put it, I think. To wit: for all the effort and scheming and determination The Pale King poured into trying to get rid of The Radiance, neither of his plans involved directly killing her.

Was that his long game? Well, sure, that seems clear enough. His tack changed from luring the moths away from their god and creator to a more literal form of incarceration once the infection became a factor, but at its core the end goal never really changed—The Pale King very sincerely wished to destroy Radiance via obsolescence. The Seer lends us foreshadowing to confirm as much:

[Image descriptions: Two screenshots from Hollow Knight, showing the Seer and Ghost in the Seer's alcove at the Resting Grounds. Across both screenshots, the Seer tells Ghost the following: "None of us can live forever, and so we ask those who survive to remember us. Hold something in your mind and it lives on with you, but forget it and you seal it away forever. That is the only death that matters." End description.]

(Which, by the way and given the context, talk about an extremely unsubtle allusion to cultural genocide huh!!! Whew.)

In any case, we're left with a whole bunch of machinations which build up to... well, two very roundabout attempts at committing deicide. That's kind of weird, all things considered! Why not just do the deed in one fell swoop and get it over with?

This could be for any number of reasons. Maybe the king was devoid of the means to instantly kill another higher being. Maybe his personal sense of scruples stopped him short of signing off on MURDER murder (although, y'know, the aforementioned genocide + eternal imprisonment = still cool and copasectic apparently!). Maybe the long drawn-out cruelty was the point. Maybe the idea of playing fuckign 4D chess with the circumstances was too delicious for him to pass up—that man did love to tinker and stick his claws where they sure as hell didn't belong—or maybe it was a little bit of All The Things. Who knows!!

But interrogating The Pale King's methodology on this count isn't what I'm here for, at least not really. The main reason I raise this question at all is that in her own way, Hornet did too.

"I'd urge you to take that harder path... "

See, going by The Pale King's actions and what The White Lady explicitly says, they both foresaw two outcomes wrt the infection: it can be allowed to spread, or it can be contained. At Teacher's Archives, Quirrel acknowledges the fact that Ghost is expected to do... something about this, but he doesn't elaborate on what HE thinks that's supposed to be apart from the obvious "Gotta bust into Black Egg Temple first". Hornet is the one person who presents to us—to Ghost—what's framed as a third option: confront and destroy the infection at its source.

And she doesn't bring it up like it's just another tactic for Ghost to consider, prim and indifferent to what they would do. She nudges them towards it, actively, up to the point where she throws herself into the fray against Hollow at a juncture that's uniquely dangerous to her and her alone just to make that option feasible.

Even when she's couching it in disclaimers that this is still Ghost's decision to make (and let's be fair, she's extremely not wrong about that lol), no one can pretend Hornet is unbiased. It's obvious in that buttoned-down Hornet kind of way that she is way the hell done with the increasingly tenuous stalemate that's kept Hallownest's desiccated corpse from collapsing in on itself. Personally it's hard for me not to read some Toriel Undertale-esque "My father was too entrenched in his own foolishness to pursue any course of action that would have DEFINITIVELY ended this" shade into her stance here, regardless of whether that's strictly true in canon.

And that bit—Hornet's hopes for an end to Hallownest's stasis, moreover her grim calculation of what needs to be done to get there—that's the bit I find super interesting but likewise tragic and depressing as shit, on multiple levels. In no small part because a) canon itself gestures towards Hornet feeling conflicted about the very plan she's pushing, and moreover b) she has at least two (2) damn good reasons to feel that way.

So, what do I mean by that? Let's look here first:

[Image description: A screenshot from Hollow Knight, of Hornet and Ghost inside the Temple of the Black Egg, standing in front of the unsealed egg itself. Hornet has been struck by the Dream Nail and her dialogue is displayed as follows: "... Could it achieve that impossible thing? Should it?" End description.]

As the curtain is about to drop on things one way or another, Hornet thinks,

... Could it achieve that impossible thing? Should it?

Now, looking at that last bit it's easy to go "Oh no, Hornet's worried that Ghost won't survive killing The Radiance!" And I do think that's part of it: Hornet is, categorically, not her father. By endgame it's clear she's not content to view her Void-borne siblings as tools to be used then disposed of. She's also well aware that as a healthy autonomous Vessel amongst the countless dead, Ghost is the only person left alive who has a fighting chance against The Radiance. Knowing someone is the only qualified candidate for the job doesn't make encouraging them to embrace a probable death sentence any less of a bitter pill to swallow, though. And odds are on that this sentiment extends to Hollow too, who IS going to die no matter what happens here. To put it bluntly, it's more than reasonable to conclude that Hornet hates the absolute fuck out of this.

But I don't think that's all there is to it either. Remember what I said earlier about The Pale King's bids for genocide? Well, it's not like the man deigned to limit his efforts to just the moth tribe.

"We do not choose our mothers... "

On top of everything else—an infected Hallownest being all she's ever known, the fact that she only exists because of the infection, the list goes on—Hornet has spent her life wedged into a position that's been uncomfortable and terminally unglamorous at best: she is both a daughter of her father's kingdom and of Deepnest.

Deepnest, which like the moths and many others was here long before the wyrm and his lady wife swanned onto the scene and the God Become Bug laid claim to everything the Light touched plus a considerable amount of change. THAT Deepnest, which has fought claw and thread to retain its sovereignty against same-said settler king, and for which Herrah not only surrendered her life but also agreed to bed her worst enemy, all in hopes of securing a viable future for her people (put a pin in that last part by the way, I'll come back to it soon).

Two Worlds, One Family (Ft. An Indigenous Woman Trying Her Damndest To Work With What She's Got Versus An Imperialist Who Only Signed Up For This Because He Needed The Political Favor THAT Badly, So It's The Height Of Dysfunctional Actually). Fun times!!!!

The baggage this entails for Hornet is gnarly enough without implications made by The White Lady and the pre-canon timeline of events and even Team Cherry's dev notes that the king may well have looked at baby Hornet, gone "YOINK", then ensured she spent the lion's share of her childhood reared within the pearly auspices of his Pale Court*. That would be rather advantageous for Him Specifically after all, the potential to mold a born foe into a future ally and even have her trained in combat under the same tutelage as her doomed sibling. And far be it from him to stop a grown Hornet—his own flesh and blood too!—from making Deepnest her forever home if she so pleased. He totally wouldn't be reneging on his "fair bargain made" by doing this one simple thing until Hornet came of age, not t e c h nic c a l l y.

If that is indeed the case, there's a non-zero chance Hornet's formative years were a hot mess of cultural alienation and being a good deal more privy than most to just how much of a bastard her father could be. There's an equally non-zero chance that at some point she stood or sat within earshot as The Pale King finally, finally dropped all pretense and euphemism to name the Light for precisely what (for who) it was.

See, in conjunction with the question that started this whole dang train of thought I've been asking this one too: Does Hornet know? When she speaks of confronting "the heart of [the] infection" does she know she's talking about not just a literal person but someone very specific? The Radiance, who god though she may be shares skin in the game alongside Hornet as a native woman screwed over by the same settler king, likewise deprived of her kin and saddled with a life gone horrendously pear-shaped?

I'll assume for the sake of exploring the possibility and because I think it's a likely one anyway that yes, Hornet does know. She knows, and despite everything can't help empathizing. She might even look at Radiance and see bits and pieces both reflected and slightly inversed in her own mother: Radiance was forced to the sidelines while her people—her children, the brood she was meant to lead and care for—died out under The Pale King's rule, and it's no stretch to assume she's at least as upset about that as she has been about everything else; Herrah too took drastic measures for her people's sake, trying to head off annihilation by relegating herself to the sidelines in an act that was as much calculated risk as an attempt to find wiggle room and leverage in the face of a nasty proposition.

A calculated risk that, if things continue as they are, might well amount to nothing as the rest of Deepnest gets eaten alive by the infection. It survived The Pale King's advances for so so long, only to fall here. Herrah's sacrifice would be for naught; the other tribes—themselves the king's victims—would keep succumbing to the infection too.

And this is where things fall apart.

"... or the circumstance into which we are born."

Let's be clear: I think Hornet is wise enough to know what's what here, that all the carnage and suffering falls on her father's head for starting this slow-motion trainwreck in the first place. Hallownest wasn't always Hallownest. This domain was Radiance's home first, along with many others. It was the worm-turned-king who rolled up on the scene unsolicited and decided this was a ""'problem""" that had to be """solved""".

But the fact of the matter is that he's gone and The Radiance is here, raging, seemingly inconsolable. Above and beyond being Deepnest's rightful heir, Hornet isn't in a position to countenance more splash damage even if the grief and fury fueling it makes perfect sense. She can understand without ever bringing herself to love Radiance, and she can bend her knee to practicality even if she hates the everloving shit out of it because the fact that it "has" to end this way isn't fair.

This lends itself to one last awful conclusion: that Hornet has probably considered and (rightly or wrongly) discarded the possibility that Radiance can be saved, at least not without dragging more collateral along for the ride. If even her mother and every other enemy to the king seemed to dismiss talking Radiance down as an option way back when... well. Why should Hornet hope for any better after things have escalated so far?

Again, it's practical. A practical net good is what Hornet strives for. And again, it fucking sucks.

For extra tragedy points, this makes Hornet's extended crypticness around Ghost followed by her last minute casting about for a reason to tell them "Wait, don't; not just yet" that she never voices even more of a gut punch. She can't bring herself to burden Ghost with the context that haunts her so, least of all when it might weaken their resolve to go through with what (she thinks) needs doing.

It's the "same song, different verse" which led to the mantis tribe and Deepnest being pitted against each other: Hallownest rigged the game so that two women who could have been powerful allies—who have a mutual vested interest in driving out settler rule—wound up poised as enemies instead. And how awful is that? The king for all his being extremely fucking dead still gets the last laugh, because outside of a miracle the game never manifests Hornet can salvage what her mother started and look forward to a future where Deepnest pulls itself back from the brink if and only if The Radiance dies.

Resolution comes at the price of a completed genocide. Add two more dead siblings to the unconscionable pile thereof, while we're at it. That's what it boils down to whether or not Hornet can bear to articulate it as such, and there's no grace or even a properly bittersweet ending to wring from this clusterfuck. And that is rough.

———

* This has been better explained elsewhere, but a quick rundown: The White Lady tells Ghost that Hornet and Herrah "were permitted little time together." On its surface this can be taken to mean that Hornet was still very young when Herrah was shipped off to Eternal Dreamland—except this doesn't jive with the fact that we meet Hornet as an adult. If the stasis kicked in once the Dreamers went to their rest, which in turn halted the aging process for every living bug in Hallownest, AND before all this Hornet experienced little by the way of quality time with her birth mother... I think you can see where I'm going with this.

To top it off we've got Team Cherry weighing in ominously from their dev notes on Herrah: "As part of the agreement for her alliance and her role as a dreamer, King gave her a child (Hornet). Was she allowed to keep this child or was she taken away?" This isn't confirmation by itself of course, but given additional canon details (see above): Can I get a "yikes" in the chat fellas.