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awkwardspontaneity · 3 years

Note

The heavenly Sword and the "Ballad of the Goddess" prompted me to another request. How would the Champions from Botw react to the fact that the reader is a goddess, and she is Hylia's sister. She owns the precious triforce, which passed to her long ago after the death of Hailya as an inheritance. Thank you again ( ╹ ▽ ╹ )

Heyo!! Sorry this took me so long school and work has been a lot lately. Anyways this is a joint headcannon for the Champions as a whole so enjoy!!

I'm gonna make this an age of calamity timeline sort of because some things will change with you around

First of all, you were a wandering goddess, helping out where you could without using your full power. Without the Triforces power you were strong but you preferred to allow humanity to solve their own problems. With a little heavenly guidance

Your main power that you used was music. You could play a melody on your flute and it would guide a person's soul, helping them to understand their desires and purpose.

With calamity rising once again you decided to investigate the castle where you knew Ganon would strike. What you weren't prepared for was the organization of the Champions to be in the castle and for the princess to notice you.

You had snuck to the lowest levels of the castle with your little egg friend to try and place a seal that would hold Ganon back as long as you could when you felt her.

This girl looked so much like your beloved sister, but the aura told you all you needed to know. This was her. Your sister reincarnated once again

Behind her stood a member of each kingdom scattered across Hyrule. You easily connected them as the elite guard you had heard whispers of.

It took some convincing but with a show of your powers and carefully sharing your aura with Zelda, although you had to approach like they were scared animals when faced with the protective circle around the princess.

Zelda was the first to trust you, although your little guardian may have seriously helped with the process. You allowed her to spend all the time she wanted with it and you got to know eachother.

Zelda confessed to you about her struggles with her powers and you declared you would do everything in your power to help unlock hers.

It took time but you managed to help her learn. It came down to her accepting a lot of emotions she had pushed down and finally allowing herself to be free of expectations. Yeah. Not an easy task. But you managed to help her feel confident and your efforts were greatly appreciated by her and the ones who cared for her.

In the beginning you would have to play your flute to allow her to find that inner harmony and then she could use her powers of light

Urbosa was someone who came around pretty fast. She has this mom instinct and despite you being thousands of years older her brain saw you and Zelda giggling as you did research in the fields and her brain went ah yes. Another child to take care of.

She also has a really good judge of character and do she knew immediately you only had the best intentions.

Mipha loved to hear your stories. You once found her talking to Vah Rutah and you mentioned that her ancestor Ruto would be proud of the Champion she became. Mipha asked to hear about stories and you gladly obliged with her wishes. Telling her all about the young Zora sage and how she had fallen in love with the hero too.

Mipha saw you as a mentor person and you would share your knowledge of her kind and you would help her perfect her ability with her trident. With your help she learned to defend against any attack and to carry that confidence into her life outside of battle.

Revali was a tricky one to get close to. He didn't trust you and the closer you got to the other the more he came to resent your presence. It wasn't until he found you atop Hebra peaks playing the flute when he finally allowed himself to get close.

The Rito are a musical people, not that Revali would ever allow others to witness his incredible prowess (yes that's a quote). But seeing you nestled in the snow playing that melody, each snowflake twirling around you as if by your command. He understood why everyone was so in awe of you.

Soon enough, Revali would meet you in the highest peaks of the Hebra mountains to play together. He would confess how he wished he could do more than play the side character but you would remind him that without his assistance Link and Zelda would never be able to defeat Ganon. His role was not small or unimportant nor was he.

Daruk may have been the easiest to befriend. You visited Death mountain and there was a rockslide. You punched one of the rocks splitting it into pieces and the big man was your new bestie.

Not to mention that super spicy marinade for a tasty rock made him know you were as stand up as they come

Honestly you and Daruk could be a dangerous combination. Super powerful dirty meets indestructible shield. You once blasted his shield with you powers and sent him bouncing down the mountain. He was fine but you were both banned from hanging out without supervision.

Link was one person who could not be that supervision. He tried his best to be the stoic hero everyone expected of him but if you three were alone together, the brain cells ran away fast.

To be fair it was a great combination in battle. You could use stasis on Daruk and Link would hit him as hard as he could creating a meteor of mass destruction barreling into your enemies.

After a battle you all would have a camp out where you and Link would work perfectly together to whip up something mouth watering. You had millions of recipes from your time wandering and just as many stories to tell around the fire.

It took time and convincing, but you managed to get each champion to bring along an instrument and play through the night. Sometimes Daruk would get a little crazy with a drum solo or Revali would get snarky if he felt like he was being stared at but eventually you would all relax. You would lead a melody and they would all fall into step bringing forth a tube that could bring a year to your eye or convince you to dance.

It wasn't long before Ganon came forth, malice reaching out across the land and taking hold of guardians and Divine Beats alike

Using the power of the Triforce you placed protection on each of the Champions. They would be unable to die until the sun rises

With your divine blessings and the power of the Triforce you were able to grant the Champions a boost on their strength and powers. You focused all you had on protecting them from injury and fatigue.

Unfortunately the sun would rise soon

With the help of your little Guardian you tapped into the warp pads on each Divine Beast and teleported yourself, Link, and Zelda to them.

Each battle was draining on your powers, you had extended you halo of protection to all of Hyrule. No citizen would die while you were watching over them.

Finally the Champions we're ready to face Ganon. Together you and Zelda merged you powers to trap him in a bubble of light. The Champions locked the Divine Beasts onto the beast and blasted him. You forced him into his beastly pig form where Link and Zelda together could finish the battle

Powered by the Guardians blasts you created a gate around the fight keeping him contained. Using your flute, you played a rythm to confuse Ganon.

With the Master sword and the bow of light, Ganon was finally defeated.

Hyrule was saved and you were finally done with your goal. You giggled as your egg teleported the Champions together to celebrate.

You were tired from the long battle but happy nonetheless. As you watched the Champions celebrate- even Revali grudgingly allowed Daruk to ruffle his feathers- you smiled. You thought of your sister as you watched over her creations and you knew she would be proud.

#loz x reader #loz botw #botw x reader #breath of the wild x reader #legend of zelda x reader #requests #vic replies

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nanaminokanojo · 3 years

Text

Play the Game | Nanami Kento X You | Part 2/8

collection masterlist

one - two - three - four - five - six - seven - eight

"Play the Game" Masterlist

The sun hasn’t even risen when Nanami came to consciousness as usual. It did not matter whether he was on vacation or working, he just automatically wakes up at the same time each and every morning without miss. It’s regardless of whether he slept enough or not. He saw no point in tarrying in bed – it was unproductive – and immediately got up without skipping a beat in his routine.

“You’re too vanilla,” he remembered you commenting when you stayed one weekend at his place in the city for an art symposium, having met him on the hallway on your way to bed after staying up all night playing video games. He just brushed your remark off with a grunt back then, but at present, he couldn’t help but muse over the fact that everything he did reminded him of you.

It was a bit light outside when he emerged from the adjoining bath of the guest room. He threw on a pair of grey sweats and a white shirt and grabbed a water bottle and a small towel on his way out of the room, mind set on going for a run. If there was something great about staying at Gojo Manor, it was the fact that it was surrounded with acres of grassland and forest with trails great for walks and jogs.

Nanami particularly grew fond of the path that led to the lake at the bottom of the hill where the mansion stood. There was a direct view of it from the balcony at the back of the structure, appearing like a jewel in the middle of the woods, and it had always been his favorite spot. The late former clan head told him it was man-made and has been there for more than a century that it became a natural feature of the estate. It was a spot in the property with a great history and great value to the clan, thus his gravitation towards it.

It’s her favorite place in the whole estate, too, he thought indulgently.

Inhaling deeply, he set out to the back doors that led to the patio and the walled gardens, starting in a slow jog before building his momentum as he reached open grounds.

And thus, his day began as such.

He came back from his run when it was already too hot, heaving deep breaths and desperate for a shower as his white shirt and grey sweats stuck to his body, drenched in sweat. His leg muscles ached, but it had been a good run.

Greetings from the staff met him as he reentered the manor which he returned with polite nods. He was headed to the stairs when he passed by the breakfast room and happened to hear Gojo talking to you. It went against his principles to eavesdrop in an evidently private conversation but he stayed rooted on his spot upon hearing you speak.

Despite your seeming foul temper upon leaving him the previous night, you seemed to have bounced back to your usual self, your tone sounding more jovial than usual. Your words were at odds to your tone as you told Gojo not to piss you off so early in the morning.

"Are you sure there's nothing going on between you and Kento?" Gojo asked just as the person in question was about to pass the doorway.

"It's really none of your business," you responded, voice devoid of any emotions. He did it, Gojo. He finally fouled up your mood.

"But I'm your brother!" Gojo protested, acting all dumb around you again. He just had that complex where you were concerned. He has always been very soft on you yet he was also fiercely protective. You hated his attention though. Yours was a strange dynamic.

"Worry about your wedding, will you? Geez. Don’t you have a luncheon to host?"

"Why did you kiss him then? On the mouth no less!"

Nanami’s heart skipped a beat, anticipation rising like cold water from his toes going up his chest. He wanted to hear what you had to say. Fuck principles. He needed his answers, too. It did not matter in what way he was getting them at that rate. He was secretly hoping you will say something a little bit more revealing about what goes inside your head given that he cannot just pry inside it even if he wanted to.

"Because I wanted to." You stated it so matter-of-factly that Gojo was at a loss for words for a moment. “Didn’t you hear me? I was dying to do that since he arrived.”

“You’re not serious, are you?”

“You tell me.” That’s becoming your signature line. “You won’t understand unless you kiss, Nanamin, too,” the tenor of your words turning fanciful. “He has such an alluring taste to him.”

What is this woman on about?

“Oh, god, stop it!”

"You should have seen the looks on your faces though. I was half expecting your eyeballs to roll on the floor. Wouldn’t that have been grand? It’s definitely shocking but a good subject for art if not a medium." At that, you laughed, the sound hitting Nanami like tinkling bells. It was such a happy sound that reminded him of better days although the thought that prompted it was utterly macabre. “Maybe that should inspire my next work. It would be like Munch’s The Scream, the next of its kind.”

"Hmm. Good point…” Gojo mumbled, sidetracked, obviously sharing your sentiments on the idea of such grotesqueness, but regained his composure just as quickly. “It's not funny!"

"But it is." Your laughter subsided as quickly as it erupted from your throat as if it wasn't even there to begin with. Your capricious nature was surfacing once more, and if there was something that was more frightening than your strong, habitual liking for trifling with people, it was that. "So what if I have other intentions behind it? Are you gonna get mad at me or something?”

"Well, do you?!" Gojo sounded like a manatee on the throes of death.

“But what are you going to do, brother? Stop me perhaps?"

He of all people should know just how unstoppable you were when you have set yourself into doing something. “N-no –”

“And what if Nanamin has the same intentions? What will you do then?”

“Hey, that’s enough of you. I know you’re trying to trap me into saying something again.” He clucked his tongue. “I seem to be the only one who isn’t in on your games, and if it is one, I have to know. You’re just way too outrageous these days that I cannot tell what’s serious and what’s not anymore.”

Gojo took a deep breath, sounding distressed as he exhaled. “Is there something else going on?”

"Maybe,” you answered noncommittally.

"That's not an answer at all!" he snapped.

You clucked your tongue, sounding irritated. "Stop screaming, Satoru."

"Do you like him?"

“Is your emphasis on that word supposed to change its meaning?”

If Nanami’s heart was skipping earlier, it has now stopped completely, robbing him of air as it seemed to have affected his lungs, too. You were maddening, not only to Gojo but to him as well. It was evident that you were in your gaming mood again, and although you were only intentionally riling your brother, he was also directly in your line of assault.

Gojo sighed in defeat, mirroring Nanami’s feelings. “Y/N, please, just answer the question,” he whined.

“I guess.” There was a pause then you said, "I mean, what's not to like?"

"What?!"

“Like it or not, Nanamin is a very excellent specimen of the male populace. He’s fucking irresistible and that’s an understatement.” You scoffed. "Even you like him."

Your voice was followed by your footsteps as you neared the door. In a daze at your vocal expression of how you find him physically attractive, instead of backtracking, Nanami stepped forward and collided with your form, nearly knocking you off your feet. He was after all twice your size and a good foot taller than you.

"Careful," he said between deep breaths, one arm securing you by the waist while his other arm gripped onto the door jamb, the position making the veins and sinews of his arm rather pronounced.

“Speak of the devil…” You straightened up, not making any effort to hide the fact that you were checking him out. Your head turned towards the direction of the breakfast room, making him mimic the action only to see Gojo standing slack-jawed, watching what was unfolding before him with eyes wide with shock. Nanami could've sworn his best friend just went into a state of catatonia.

"Didn't see you there," you said, addressing Nanami, your blue eyes assessing him as if in suspicion.

"I'm sorry," he muttered under his breath, feeling the tips of his ears heating up. Before you could notice, he stepped aside, heading towards the direction of the stairs.

"Hey, Nanamin," you suddenly called, making him halt and turn his head to your direction. You were smirking at the direction of your brother as you said, "Nice ass."

He shook his head. It was really just a ploy to get to Gojo’s nerves, and he was your pawn.

The sound of graphite scratching on paper like a harsh slash of sword punctuated the impending absence of thought in your mind. Nothing mattered but the sight of your hand gripping a pencil as it created unintelligible strokes on the plain page of the sketchbook on your lap. It progressed to furious scribbling, your movements becoming faster, the sound dominating your corner of the room. Everything has been drowned out – the endless chattering, the sound of porcelain and silverware hitting each other in chaotic cacophony – heightening in a painful crescendo of auditory abomination and dying in the air, overwhelmed by the picture you were creating on the blank expanse of space.

“You must be so proud of your daughter.”

Scratch.

“Who wouldn’t be? It must be great to have geniuses for children”

Scratch.

“She’s just as famous as Satoru.”

Scratch.

Just like that, they didn't exist. The room was empty save for you and the view outside the window coming to life on paper. Your eyes darted from your sketch to the familiar yet equally exhilarating view just outside the parlor. Gojo was animatedly talking about something, easily excitable as always. His fiancée laughed on the side while Nanami was witheringly eyeing him, stoic as always. Shoko, who arrived the previous evening, also joined the group. All that was missing was Geto. You wondered if you should draw him somewhere in the sketch.

The image before you reminded you of those days when reality seemed far away, back when Gojo was still a student, exceptional as always but still young, not the renowned genius tycoon he was at present. His friends would always be around him, lounging around the manor like they hadn't a care in the world.

His crowd grew in number with Geto and Nanami being the two closest pals he had. Shoko joined in shortly in middle school. On the other hand, Utahime came during his university days, also starting off as Gojo’s friend and eventually becoming his girlfriend. Now they were about to get married and it seemed to punctuate all the changes that came with being the grown-ups that they are.

It scared you.

Fact is, growing up and growing old and the changes that come with it was terrifying. Even if you yourself were already twenty four, seemingly had your life together and appearing to have matured without a hitch, that wasn’t the case at all. Genius or not, your brother also had his issues even while he was rising to his current position in society.

The problem was within you, you knew it. That and the fact that you did not really know what growing means. Your work grew, matured like crazy. You didn’t think you yourself grew, stuck in those days when everything was relatively easier. At least then, you only had to worry about your classmates hating on you. Now a part of the public did.

Looking at Gojo and his gang, they’ve all handled that well, making you wonder how they did it. He is one of the youngest CEOs in the country, having built his business empire at just seventeen. Your future sister-in-law is a professor, Geto is a sought-after model and Shoko is a forensic pathologist. They were all great at what they did, struggled as well, but came out with perfect grace.

However, you think the best one out of them was none other than the object of your pining – Nanami Kento. The man made transitioning to adulthood look rather easy. Maybe it was because he had always been mature and held himself in perfect equilibrium. Sure, he was no Gojo Satoru, but he was innately intelligent and became one of the youngest barristers who held the position of a famous attorney’s partner. He handled controversial cases and is one of the best prosecutors in the country with a high winning percentage. His work aside, he seemed to have the least struggle out of everyone.

Your lips curled up at the corners at the thought of the man. Your gaze flicked to him from the sketchbook, sitting there with a beverage in his hand, the noon sun glimmering on his hair and the planes of his face, looking more laid back without a blazer on. He was dressed rather casually in a pair of khaki trousers and dusty blue button-ups, but he still looked smart. He always dressed that way which you found very attractive although seeing him in more casual clothes like that morning was another level of hot altogether. He’s quite a bit formal, making him seem monotonous, but it’s that consistency that you liked about him. It was only a bonus that he was devastatingly handsome with those sharp features and the suits made him look so sexy in that it left everything about his real physique to imagination.

One just could not get enough of him, at least you couldn’t, but you did see how his partner’s paralegal eyeballed him all the time. (You secretly wanted to gouge her eyes out.) That’s the kind of man Nanami was. He doesn’t speak much, but when he does, it leaves profound dents to one’s psyche. And man, was he hot in court! He’s fucking sarcastic when he wants to be, to the point of being vile, but one just can’t get offended with the kind of logic he has. Once he speaks his mind, one wishes he wouldn’t stop, but he does and leaves that person craving more, his hypnotic, deep voice a rare treat. He wasn’t big on actions, wasn’t expressive, but when he does something, it’s always with purpose and precision, never over the top and always with disciplined stoicism.

You chuckled quietly, your pencil drawing perfect strokes of his hair when you were pulled out of your trance.

“Yuuji!” you heard Gojo say, pulling your attention to the direction of the window.

You broke into a grin at the mention of the name, hurriedly getting on your feet and running out of the room, deaf to your mother’s protests against your unladylike behavior – the commotion foreign to the ladies in the room who moved with the minutest rustles. You made your way out to the patio, that familiar tuft of pink hair coming into your line of vision. You sprinted through the glass doors towards the person whose name your brother called, smile wide and genuine.

“You kept me waiting long enough,” you called out, voice louder than usual. You’re hardly ever giddy nor were you easily excitable like your brother, but Itadori Yuuji was a different story altogether. You loved the boy with a fierceness akin to a mother and were always ecstatic to be around him but suppressed it by acting gruff. You were crazy like that.

“That’s because you won’t help me with my final requirements,” he retorted good-naturedly, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and nuzzling the back of your head as if you were a fuzzy plush toy, making you drop your drawing implements. Well, you were considerably smaller than him, and he was probably the only one who could do that to you and get away unscathed.

You rolled your eyes, noticing how Gojo had picked up your stuff, looking at the page where it was opened. “You should exert yourself more. You’re no genius after all.”

“That’s mean!”

You smirked at him, your eyes straying to your brother who was smiling at your drawing. He had such a proud, fond look on his face that you couldn’t do anything but stare. He has always been ever since you first held crayons and drew him as a cat. “You even included Suguru,” he cooed, pointing at the missing person you included then proceeding to show it off to his friends. “Guys, look. My baby sister drew us.”

“Surprise, surprise,” you sallied, but you were happy that he’s always showing you off.

Utahime and Shoko stood beside him, also looking at the sketch. The latter raised a thumb at your direction. “Damn, kid. You’re really great at what you do. How do you make things come alive with just a pencil?”

You smiled awkwardly. “I –”

“Give it here,” Nanami suddenly butted in, hand reaching for the sketchpad which Gojo promptly handed him.

You felt Yuuji elbowing you while you stood there, observing the man who was in possession of your drawing.

Nanami blinked then, handing it back to you. “How come I don’t have a face?” he asked, expression expectant of your response.

Annoyed, you snatched it back from him.

“It’s obviously not finished yet,” Shoko commented, but she couldn’t have been more wrong.

It was not that you cannot, but you would never draw his face. Ever. You tried tons of times if the tens of pages of sketchpads at your apartment filled with different angles and parts of him would be a basis for that. You could draw everything else about him, just not his face. No amount of contemplation and practice helped you to know why, but you attributed it to the fact that you could not do his face justice, at least in the sense that you would not be able to bring it to life as Shoko said.

Finally, you said, “I didn’t feel like drawing your face.” You turned away, dragging Yuuji with you. The boy was still giggling like a hyena until you got to the second-floor balcony where you propped yourself up on the balustrade, looking sulky.

"You might fall there, you know," he commented, jumping up the marble balustrade to join you.

"I can say the same for you," came your quiet reply. "Where's Megumi?"

“He’ll be here before lunch.” Yuuji leaned close to you with a mischievous grin on his face. “What, or rather who, is that look on your face for?”

"I think you know the answer to that."

"Did you tell Nanamin?" He addressed the man just as you did and got away with it, too, for some reason.

"Tell him what?"

He scoffed playfully. "Are you seriously playing this game with me? I'm your best buddy. I know everything."

"As irritating as that is, it's true."

Yuuji pouted at you. "I heard what you did yesterday. Why do you have to make games out of everything?"

"That's how I communicate. I thought you knew everything."

Harsh as always, he thought. "Be a normal person for once and just tell him." His brows knit together. "Well, you're anything but normal," he mused aloud. “I meant that nicely.”

You blew a raspberry. "You're just as normal as I am if you claim to be my best friend. Which you are. No take backs."

Yuuji couldn't help but smile at that. You have always been a loner and you did not mind being alone. He was grateful you wanted him around despite that.

"But you should stop doing this. He wants you. It's obvious."

"It's not that simple."

"What isn't simple? If it's Satoru, he'll understand for sure if you just try to be honest. I'm sure he just isn't for it more because he doesn't know how you feel. I mean, if I were him, I'll also protect my baby sister from my male friends. That's just how it is."

You blinked, pivoting your whole body so you were facing him.

"Well, of course, Nanamin needs to fight for it, too," he was quick to throw in, rambling to himself when he suddenly felt you reach out towards him, gently running your fingers through his pink hair. He leaned towards your touch, smiling contentedly.

"Don't worry about me. I'm fine."

"I'm not –"

You narrowed your eyes at him. "Are you seriously playing this game with me?" you asked, mimicking his words earlier. "I'm your best buddy. I know everything, one of them being the fact that you worry worse than my mother."

Yuuji jumped off the balustrade, reaching out to grab you in a bear hug despite your protestations. Just like how you were with everyone else, you shunned his affection, but he knew better than to let go when you were saying exactly that. He found that trait of yours adorable.

"You're so irritating," you hissed, flipping your platinum white hair over your shoulder when you finally managed to get off his grip but he wrapped an arm over your shoulder nonetheless, undeterred by your words.

"You know you love me."

"Shut up."

Yuuji pouted. "You sound like Megumi."

"I heard that," the person in question suddenly spoke from the direction of the entry, his deep voice making you and Yuuji turn towards him. "They're calling everyone for lunch."

Yuuji followed behind as you approached Megumi, also one of your closest friends and practically your brother, keeping you in check more than Gojo ever can.

"Guess what," Megumi said to you as you walked beside him. In one of the rare moments you would see it, he grinned and you knew it wasn't because of anything good.

"What?" you and Yuuji, who thought the same by the look on his face, chorused.

"Nobara switched your name card with Miwa's. You're now seated next to your man candy. You're welcome."

“Isn’t that more of a perk for Miwa? She’s scared shitless of Nanamin, you know.”

The three of you laughed while Yuuji could just shake his head at the inescapable trouble that will follow. His only consolation was that it’s fun when it involves you.

What were the odds, Nanami thought to himself. He didn't have to look twice to see whose name it was on the card on the spot next to him. He exhaled loudly, unfolding the napkin and placing it on his lap. This could only lead to hullabaloo he was not exactly in the mood to deal with especially after you just told him you did not feel like drawing his face. You sure were mean when you wanted to be.

He surveyed his vicinity. Your father, the current head of the clan from whence your blue eyes came from, was seated at the head of the table, your mother to his right, while Utahime’s parents sat to his left. It seemed to have been the only formalities observed in the arrangement. From across Nanami sat Utahime and Gojo while on his right were a couple he only knew as cousins to the Gojo main family.

He was internally pinching the bridge of his nose. You really had to be the one seated next to him and right across your annoying brother, too.

The luncheon started without you. It wasn't a formal gathering after all except they were serving a full-course meal. It was more of a way to get everyone to know one another over the week for some reason he cannot fathom, and he was glad that only your father was the one who had engaged him in a conversation, mostly about work. It was easy enough to deal with.

"Where are Y/N and her friends?" your mother asked Gojo out of the blue.

Utahime, answering for the clueless person beside her, pointed towards the direction of the door to the banquet hall where you were leisurely walking towards your designated seat with Yuuji and Megumi. The former rounded the table to sit next to Gojo.

"Still managing to be late even when you're already at the venue, baby sis?" Nanami heard Gojo say as you assumed your seat. It was evident in the way his eyes shifted from Nanami to you that your tardiness wasn't exactly the problem.

You blatantly ignored his comment and turned your attention to Nanami. "Had a good run this morning, Nanamin?"

"Just so," he answered, side-glancing at you.

"Yeah. You looked super hot this morning," you said just as Gojo was taking a sip from his wine glass.

Megumi snorted when the older male started choking on his drink while Yuuji was trying hard not to laugh.

Nanami knew he would have reacted the same way except that he had been bracing himself for whatever you will say the moment Gojo opened his mouth. Of course you will use him in your counter attack. It's yet another game, not that he was less affected by your words.

"You should have seen him, Iori," you continued, addressing your brother's fiancée. "He looks so much less uptight in casual clothes."

It didn't escape Nanami’s notice how Gojo was looking at him. He looked about ready to drop onto the floor, but paid him no mind as he leveled his mouth to your ear. "Y/N, let's not make your dear brother snap, shall we?"

"Oh, sweetheart, maybe that's what he needs right now," you deadpanned, meeting his gaze squarely, your disposition unreadable as you let your eyes linger on him longer than was deemed appropriate.

Yuuji finally laughed, earning him a kick to the shins under the table courtesy of Megumi.

What it was about you that made everything else irrelevant and nonexistent when you’re that close to him was something beyond him. You always made him lose control, tempted him to break the rules. He only knew he couldn't act on it. Most of the time anyway. He also felt like laughing, oddly enough.

Utahime just chuckled good-naturedly breaking the tension. "Since the two of you are here, I should tell you that the final fitting for your clothes for the wedding is this afternoon. So, you better go together at the shop."

"Traitor." Gojo pouted at Utahime but nobody was really paying attention to him anymore. For someone so important to society with a flawless image, the closest people around him sure were good at disregarding him when they deemed it fit.

"Okay," Nanami said, looking at you for confirmation.

It was you who looked away this time. "I'm free."

"That's set then." Utahime clapped her hands and to Nanami she cheekily said, "Maybe wear something less formal."

At that, you grinned wickedly at him. So much for avoiding trouble with you.

-end of part 2-

*I used “you” here, but since my character is Gojo’s little sister who is established to be his female clone for reasons essential to the plot, she possesses the same blue eyes and white hair. I did not exactly want to create an OC (although technically, I did by describing Y/N), but I opted for the best of both worlds in this fic, leaning more towards the literary aspect of it as opposed to it just being reader/you-oriented. I hope this isn’t iffy to anyone, and yeah, i’m not being exclusive or whatever.

If you want to be included in the tag list, please DM me :)

Thank you so much for reading. Likes, comments and reblogs are deeply appreciated! Hope you enjoyed it.

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firelxdykatara · 3 years

Note

If you interpret Katara’s aggression towards Zuko as romantic affection, then you have some serious issues of your own. Is a very dangerous message for teenage girls indeed. People who ship Zutara have to seriously analyze how unhealthy the message of the pairing would be. Katara hated Zuko for a valid reason, and to twist it into something it’s not is massively disrespectful to both the character. The outdated and ridiculous notion that a girl who acts like she doesn’t like a guy is simply “confused” and “denying her feelings” is so sexist and degrading. Take her emotions at face value. It's never been

Yawn. Boring. This is the same old tired argument I’ve heard a million times before--the one that proves a) you don’t actually understand how relationships work, and b) you’ve never read a single zutara meta in your life, because that’s the only way you could seriously get the ‘good girl is secretly in love with the bad boy and hopes to fix him’ read of a relationship that bares absolutely no resemblance to that particular collection of tropes either in the show or in our fandom.

But ok! I’ll bite, since you clearly want so badly to be educated and evidently don’t have the time to watch the show yourself, nor the reading comprehension necessary to understand the sort of media analysis that goes on in a lot of atla and zutara-focused meta in this fandom.

Which probably means that anything I write here will fly right over your head, but oh well, what can you do?

At any rate, the first mistake you’ve made here is assuming that I (or zutara shippers in general, but since you came into my inbox, I’m going to be taking this just as personally as you clearly intended me to) interpret Katara’s aggression towards Zuko as romantic at any point in the series prior to their reconciliation (after which point, there is no aggression from Katara aimed at Zuko for anyone, me included, to interpret romantically in the first place). I don’t, and I never have, and neither does a vast majority of the zutara fandom in the spaces I frequent (which encompasses tumblr, occasionally twitter, and the very large zutara discord server I’ve been an active part of for two years now). Pointing out oddly suggestive tension in early parts of the series (such as the “I’ll save you from the pirates” and “you rise with the moon, I rise with the sun” lines, or the fact that Zuko wore Katara’s necklace around his wrist for like nine episodes when there was absolutely no need for it) is just that--pointing out tension.

There doesn’t need to be feelings for there to be tension, antagonistic or otherwise, but that tension is the foundation from which their relationship arc throughout the series grew, developed, and eventually evolved. This is what is generally known as relationship development, and it occurs when two characters go from having one kind of relationship to another within the course of the story.

For example, enemies, who become friends, who become lovers.

Now, your mileage may vary on this next part (although I really hope not, cause Y I K E S), but I, personally, think that ‘if a boy kisses you without your consent, but he really really loves you, then you owe it to him to love him back, especially if he just saved the world, and you should never expect an apology because since you suddenly decided you return those feelings, that means the violation of your boundaries was ok since clearly you really liked him all along’ is a much more damaging message to send to young girls--and boys, to be frank, especially since learning about consent is hugely important at young ages--than ‘if a boy who was your enemy goes to great lengths to better himself, to the point where you forgive him for when he hurt you and become close friends with him, then it’s normal for those feelings to grow and change, even to the point of becoming romantic, and it’s ok to explore them’.

And guess which one of those is canon to the AtLA finale?

Next, you say ‘Katara hated Zuko for a valid reason’ as if that was ever in dispute. It wasn’t--certainly not on my blog. I know there are some people who hate Katara because she was ‘too mean’ to Zuko, but I don’t agree with them, nor do I associate with them, since I have no time, energy, or room in my life for Katara slander. However, do you know what the operative word is in that sentence? Hated. As in past tense. As in, ‘Katara used to hate Zuko, but by the end of the show that is no longer the case, and they are extremely close friends with a deep bond and multiple life-debts between them’.

Why are you so insistent on not only denying Zuko’s hard-earned and bitterly fought for redemption, but also Katara’s emotions and feelings, which you end this weirdly disjointed ask by insisting they be taken at face value?

And it’s actually really funny (ironic funny, not so much ‘ha ha’ funny) that you use the word ‘confused’ there, followed by the phrase ‘denying her real feelings’, and then call that ‘sexist and degrading’, as if that isn’t exactly what happened in Katara’s canon endgame in the show.

She said point blank that she was confused, she showed with her words, tone, and body language that she was not open to Aang’s romantic advances, she had completely forgotten about the last time he’d kissed her without her consent, rather than reflecting on her romantic feelings as one would expect of a girl who’d been kissed by someone we’re supposed to believe she’s had feelings for since book 1, and was completely taken aback by Aang’s reaction to the play and his weird believe that they ‘were gonna be together’, when she had never once indicated that she wanted to be with him in any romantic sense. And yet, he kissed her--and while she got angry about it and stormed off in the moment, he never apologized for crossing her boundaries, and they also didn’t have a single significant scene together between that moment and the epilogue.

What happened to taking Katara’s emotions at face value? What happened to how ‘sexist and degrading’ it is to assume that if a girl says she’s confused, that must mean she’s ‘denying her feelings’? What happened to caring about Katara’s agency, even a little bit?

Anyway, I’m gonna wrap this up by saying: I do not believe Zuko and Katara should’ve been making out in the finale instead. I actually hate the fact that the final shot of AtLA was a romantic kiss (particularly for such a poorly written pairing), rather than a shot of the gaang together like it should have been to show what the series was meant to be about. I think that focusing on the romantic relationships in the finale undercut an already weak ending to an otherwise great (not perfect, but certainly good enough that it deserved much better closure) show.

That said, I also think a Zutara kiss would have been more earned, at that point in both of their narratives. Because Katara’s feelings had been the focus of their relationship throughout its entirety. Zuko’s feelings mattered, too, of course, (in stark contrast to how they were treated during his relationship with Mai), but Katara was the one who got to choose when and why and what she felt about him. She got to choose when to forgive him. She got to choose to help him, and to save his life, and her emotions were frequently the focus in a way they never were during her relationship with Aang, so nudging those into a more romantic light not only would have fit better with her character arc, it also would have been far less jarring to see that as the culmination of their respective storylines, rather than a romantic kiss coming out of nowhere when her very last scene with him was being kissed without her consent and storming off about it because it upset her.

My most fervent hope, anon, is that some day you actually watch the show, Avatar: the Last Airbender. Because Katara and Zuko are amazing characters, they have amazing storylines both separately and together, and it’s really a crime whenever someone misunderstands both of them so badly. I hope that when you do watch the show, you pay attention. You may see something amazing.

#atla #zutara #katara #zuko #kataang salt #not a ton but yk it's there so #salt for ts #asked #try harder next time anon #this doesn't even rank a 'you tried' star #Anonymous

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jengajives · 3 years

Text

Got Haleth and her man on the mind

When another night of butchery came and went, Haleth decided at last that, while she might be suited for war, she could not understand those who loved it, or those songs she’d heard from the bold among her people telling of the valor and glory of battle. What glory was there to be found in blood, pain, and death? When the enemy came to destroy you, and all you had to fight for was a life you could never get back?

She asked those still willing to bear arms to stop the ones who went to the river, but she understood why sometimes they didn’t.

Another night of half-sleep, when she laid in the dirt and closed her eyes and wondered if this was rest or if she’d entirely forgotten the feeling, until a few meager hours had passed and she rose again to defend the wall, fearing all the while to be woken by the cries of “they’ve broken through” or, worse, that there would be none left to cry, and the thing to wake her would be an orc sword in her gut.

The people said they would follow her even to death, but that was the only place she could possibly lead them. The orcs were endless and they had barely a fifth of their original number left. It was not enough to repel the enemy. To save the children and the aged from the saws and teeth of Morgoth’s butchers.

When Haleth rose from her rest, the air was thick with fog and fume, and the smell of rot was stronger. The chill of hell was on the wind. She tied her father’s old hunting cloak around her throat, over the top of her leather and mail, and stepped back into the endless slaughter.

It was quiet today. Less of the screams. Less of the constant throb of bowstrings. Haleth looked to the battlement, and saw no one.

“Where are the archers?”

Heru, the old widow who’d taken up as second in command, pointed to a small group of people standing near the gate.

“The orcs stopped trying for the wall,” she explained in a scratchy voice. “I pulled them down to the gate.”

Outside, the low, guttural sound of a goblin chant rose on the icy wind.

“I think they mean to finish us,” Heru said with hollow calmness. “This is our last sunrise.”

Haleth squinted through the fog. Was this sunrise? It just looked grey.

“We have strength yet,” she said, though she could not see it. “Get everyone to the gate.”

Every one of the people able to bear arms gathered around the gates as they shuddered and cracked. They were reinforced, with entire oak logs hammered across to keep them shut, but the orcs were pounding so insistently now it seemed no amount of extra fortification would stop them.

She could see grey sky through the gaps in the wood.

Haleth twisted her sword in her hand and stepped in front of the small group of Men. There couldn’t be more than two hundred left. So few.

“Spears and shields up front,” she said, pointing. “Archers behind. We will hold them back as long as we can. They mean to destroy us- our people, our way of life, the great pride of the Haladin- but we will leave them a burning memory to remember us by. The pain of their losses will stay with them, and the next time they choose to try their might against the swords of the Edain, they will remember the way we hewed them down, and how the river ran black with their blood. We scar the Enemy today. If we can never return to our homes and our groves and orchards, then we will ensure that even fewer of them go back to their foul Master.”

She turned to face the quivering gates.

“Stand with me, Haladin. Today we stand and die together.”

The logs cracked and arrows came through, whistling on tattered fletchings.

Haleth’s line closed tight around the splintering wood, and she stood at their head with Heru and her spear proud and grim by her side.

When the orcs at last pushed bodies through, tearing flesh and wood away without care or concern, and fell on the defenders streaming blood and howling, they were met with the horrific desperation of a people without hope, and they began to fall.

The hours were not kind to the Haladin. The orcs were endless and swarmed through the broken gates like insects, clambering carelessly over the bodies of their fallen to renew the assault in constant waves. There was no rest for the defenders, only the ring of metal and the constant grim hacking of blade against bone.

They were losing numbers. Not nearly so quickly as their enemies were, but fast enough. Their forces being whittled away slowly and surely, forced to retreat further and further from the gates until they were pressed to the walls on the other side of the fortress, hewn mercilessly and without pause.

Haleth had taken an arrow to the arm, but it was her right one, and not particularly useful when she wielded weapon with her left, and the bleeding gave her no great bother- not nearly enough to hinder her. She couldn’t see Heru and she was almost certain the woman had fallen to the goblin’s butchery, but she had lost so many others that she was almost blind to it now. No emotion would rise in her but the horrid, numb rage of battle.

She would fight to the end. Give her people something to believe in, even in the grips of absolute despair. She would give them everything she possibly could before it all finished.

They were backed to the wood, standing on piles of their own fallen, when a strange sound rose over the snarls of the goblins and the dying screams. Haleth had never heard an Elf-horn before, but she still knew it. There was nothing else it could be. It was just too loud. Too clear and beautiful to be the Enemy’s, and too fell to belong to any mortal Man.

Haleth paused her attacks and squinted. Beyond the splintered gates and swarms of ironclad orcs, she could see gleaming silver and dark violet banners that bore the mark of Caranthir, lord of Thargelion.

It was about time.

Haleth took especially grim delight in taking limbs off the orcs she killed, letting them have a taste of what they had given to her father and her brother but seven days before, though more merciful by far. And driving the forces intended to destroy them into the river was morbidly satisfying. Watching the waters drag them under and take them away.

As she tugged her sword out of a goblin’s torso and took a glance around the battlefield, she noticed one face among the glowing Eldar that gave her pause.

Caranthir was tall and had a face that looked like it hadn’t spent much time smiling. He wore no helmet and kept his dark hair pulled back to fall over his shoulders, where its color seemed to mingle with the cloak he wore on his shimmering black pauldrons. He wielded a thick sword with one hand, and a narrow shield on the other forearm, and fought with a grim scowl on his face.

He was close now, fighting in the shallows of the rivers, so Haleth decided to shout at him.

“You are late, pointy-ear!”

Caranthir looked up like he was alarmed to be spoken at, and his dark eyes narrowed.

“Pardon?”

The stories of Caranthir’s temper did not paint him kindly. But at that moment, Haleth felt her wrath was far greater than any the pretty Elf-lord could conjure up, and she was not shy of showing it.

“Late. We needed you a week ago, Princeling.”

Despite the fact that he currently had an orc skewered on the tip of his sword, he turned to look at her, brow furrowing.

“Who are you?”

She helped him out by taking the head off his enemy for him, and leered closer with flame in her heart thinking of the ones she’d lost. Heru. Her father. Haldar. Because the mighty lord of the Noldor was late.

“I am Haleth, lord of the Haladin,” she snarled. “Do not forget it.”

Then she turned back to her bloodshed and vendetta and tried not to think about how much she truly hated Caranthir, Fëanor’s son.

“Haleth, I have done you a disservice.”

The air was cool but there was warmth now in sunlight, as Haleth stood proud before the lord of Thargelion’s tent. He and his soldiers had set up at the riverside once the orcs were destroyed, distributing supplies and attending to the wounded. The sun was high on the second day since their victory, and Haleth had yet to dress, or wash, or see to the wounds that surely were past dressing now. She had other business. Children to comfort. Cuts to bind. Dead to bury. It was the custom of her people to plant young trees over the graves of the fallen, but there were so many now piled to be entombed in the earth, and she didn’t have the numbers to send gatherers for saplings and acorns. It would have to wait until more of the injured had been cared for. It would have to come later.

Caranthir stood in front of her, still dressed in his battle attire, though his hair was down now and braided with lengths of fine silver. Haleth hadn’t ever seen any of the Noldor’s mighty lords; she couldn’t tell if she was disappointed or not. She thought she liked the Grey-Elves that they had traded with sometimes better. Caranthir didn’t look like the kindly Sindar. He didn’t look happy.

Even now there was a resolved anger engrained on his face as he spoke to her that went beyond any wrong-doing she could think of, though his words remained clipped and polite.

“I misjudged the nobility of your people,” he said gravely. “I left you to fend for yourselves when I should have stood as your ally.”

Haleth scowled at him but said nothing.

“Is there anything I can do to help ease the suffering of your people?”

She put back her shoulders to deliver her answer, looking the Elven-prince directly in the eye.

“We have suffered greatly because of the orcs your armies did not hold back. My own father I lost before the gate, and my brother who went to save his body from their savagery. And we have lost many more besides- children, mothers and fathers, the oldest and wisest among us. Too many have fallen here, in despair, seeing no hope of rescue from the Eldar. No more can we return to the peace of our homes and live without fear. That has been taken from us.” She softened her scowl. A vein twitched in Caranthir’s forehead, but he restrained himself and listened patiently as she spoke using the confidence she had adopted when giving orders. “Is it important for trees to grow over the fallen. Seedlings and acorns that can draw their strength from the hallowed earth. We cannot gather these ourselves. I would ask you to send scouts into the woods to bring us back young trees to be laid over the mound.”

Caranthir nodded and spoke through gritted teeth. Obviously he was unused to being insulted.

“It will be done, lady.”

“Thank you,” said Haleth, in the way that meant he was good for doing as he was told. “We did not ask for your help, but we do thank you for it. Now, I have matters to attend, so if you-“ She turned to take one step to go and missed her footing. The minute she hit all fours on the ground she felt a red-hot shame overlaid with a sudden pain in her arm, in her side where she’d taken a warhammer, down the dagger slash just below her knee.

It took her too long to gather the energy to stand. It was more of a hunched stagger when she finally managed it. In front of a King of the Noldor.

The shame coursed like hot venom through her core, until she felt a hand on her shoulder, cool and firm.

“My lady,” said Caranthir, “can I tend to you?”

Haleth shrugged it off on instinct, but when she looked back and saw genuine concern in Caranthir’s eyes, like he was worried she’d fall to pieces if she didn’t get help immediately, it gave her pause. The thorny retort she had planned died on her lips.

“I didn’t know the lords of your people had any skill in healing,” she said slowly, almost suspicious. Caranthir looked offended to hear it.

“I spent much time with the mighty in Valinor, and I learned many things, healing not the least. Let me help. You will need strength to lead your people.”

For a moment longer she studied him, then huffed and looked away.

“I don’t trust you.”

Immediately a weight came into the air. His words gave off the heat of molten metal.

“Now you have done me a disservice, Haleth, Haldad’s heir. I admit I was wrong. I repent of my foolishness and I will not undervalue the Edain again. But you should not undervalue me.”

When she glanced back, his eyes were burning. She could actually see flames moving deep down behind the pupils.

“Let me tend to you,” he said in a tone that made it non-negotiable.

She got the sudden and distinct feeling she should bow to him. She didn’t.

“Very well,” she said instead, arms crossed. “Tend to me.”

And as Caranthir unbuckled his gauntlets and motioned her into the tent, she decided he was beautiful after all, but in such a joyless way it almost made the beauty feel wasted.

It turned out she had no reason to worry over his skill; the prince worked more efficiently than any healer she’d ever seen, and the store of herbs he consulted contained plenty Haleth didn’t recognize, strange flowers or leaves that gave a sharp and strange perfume when he crushed them under his pestle or threw them in hot water to soak. One of these, a smooth strip of grey bark, he even chewed for a moment before he pressed the paste to Haleth’s arm and held it there. It stung so sharply she couldn’t suppress a wince, which at first she thought he didn’t notice, as he didn’t look up- though, of course, she was wrong.

“You’re lucky,” he said softly. “The stinging is good. Means the arrow wasn’t poisoned.”

“If it was poisoned,” Haleth replied flatly, “I would have died by now.”

Caranthir frowned at that. After a moment he shook his head and mumbled to himself.

“So fragile.”

Haleth chose not to challenge him on the assertion. It was not worth the fight.

Once the bruise on her side had been washed in sweet-smelling water, and her cuts were all neatly cleaned and bound, she was about to stand when he abruptly held out a small silver cup. She stared at it, eyes immediately drawn to the dark sapphires set in its sides, and when she hesitated he looked hurt, and pushed it into her hands.

“Drink.”

“What is it?”

“Tea. To help with the pain.” Finally he glanced at her face and realized that wasn’t what she meant, and his gaze followed hers to the jewels.

“Oh,” he said with sudden understanding. “Do you like it?”

“This is what you give tea to the sick in?”

“Well, I don’t have any other cups laying around. What’s wrong with it?”

Haleth lifted the small vessel into the sunlight, and shook her head when she saw the way the sapphires lit up with an inner flame beneath the light.

“I’ve never seen anything like this before.”

She was so busy staring at the thing, she almost missed the way his expression shifted. First pride, then a sudden bashfulness that made his cheeks lose a little of their color, and at last a cautious trepidation. He cleared his throat and when he spoke it was more strained than she’d heard his voice so far.

“You ought to come north. I have entire roomfuls of vessels like these. This is nothing.”

Haleth lowered the cup to give him a skeptical look. Obviously there was something here he didn’t want to say. And obviously Caranthir wasn’t too good at keeping secrets, because it was shining right there in his eyes.

He wanted her to come north with him, for whatever reason.

Actually, no. She could guess the reason, too.

Haleth drank his tea, and handed back the empty cup with definite resolve.

“I owe you my thanks,” she said simply, and stood up to go.

Caranthir didn’t try to stop her.

Haleth expected Caranthir to move on after just a few days, but he didn’t. His healers stayed to tend to those who were badly hurt, and his soldiers continued to patrol the surrounding woods. And he himself continued to lurk around making everyone uncomfortable.

The people didn’t like Caranthir very much, but Haleth had decided she didn’t mind him. He was definitely off-putting, no mistake, but she didn’t think he was all that frightening- all bark, very little bite. Just a gloomy, angry person who was secretly too nervous to do much about it.

She thought it was a little funny, to be honest.

It was strange he wasn’t leaving, though.

“Haleth-“

“Shh.”

Her fingers moved down slowly, tracing the line of his spine, feeling the gentle warmth of his dark skin- how soft he was, despite the harsh exterior he tried to put on. He was pretty when he let the mask melt away. Very pretty here underneath.

“I’ve got you,” she said softly. His shoulders quaked. “You can relax, Caranthir. I’ve got you.”

He shuddered again, but he turned his face to her when she reached for it, and gave her the softest, most vulnerable look she had ever seen from one of the Eldar.

There was beauty in it. True beauty there behind his dark, gleaming eyes.

Still she hadn’t ever seen him smile. She thought he would be even more beautiful if he smiled.

“I... Haleth...”

“Yes?” she said, as soft as she could manage. “What’s wrong, love?”

He suddenly buried his face hearing that. He was shy. Very cute, and shy, and sweet. Pretending to be tough for his people, when really he was on the verge of tears because a woman called him “love” in bed.

“Are you embarrassed?” she asked with a singsong tease to her voice. “When’s the last time you-“

“Haleth!” he said again, louder now, cutting her off. When she took a pause to give him space, he uncovered his face just enough to meet her eyes.

“I want you to come north with me. You, and all your people. We have space, plenty of it, you can have free lands of your own, and riches beyond your imagination, and the armies of the Eldar to protect you...”

Haleth looked at him, silent now. This was not what she had imagined discussing while she shared a bed with Lord Caranthir, but she couldn’t say she was surprised.

“Now isn’t a good time.”

“Even if it was just you! I-I want you to stay with me. What can I do to convince you to stay?”

It was his turn to pause then, because she rolled over to straddle his middle and put a finger to his lips.

“Caranthir. Now is not the time.”

He looked up at her wild and almost afraid. It made her smile.

“You’ll let me do the talking now,” she said firmly. He nodded, overeager, and again her face warmed with a grin she couldn’t hold down.

He covered his face, but she was absolutely determined to win a smile from him before the night was out.

#jenga makes junk #fanfic #fic #writers #silmarillion #haleth #caranthir #Haleth x caranthir #tw gore #haladin #sons of feanor #some spice would be nice #peg your men ladies

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spoiler1001 · 3 years

Text

Percy wanted children once he settled down. Vex seemed to want them too. After Vax died, Vex wanted them more, Vesper was a surprise. Vax’ildan was planned, to the extent that they wanted children, but the exact date was a surprise. Vesper was 2 years old at the time. Sophia was planned. Timed and everything. When she was born with her tail wrapped around herself and two bumps where the horns would grow, he was surprised.

The chirping was a surprise. Percival had known about Tieflings’ purring. He was a bit thrown when his child chirped before she cried.

Most of Vox Machina had thrown names at Percival for this kid and he liked them all. Vex arranged the name order.

He almost felt bad for laughing when he noticed.

There was a long time between Sophia and the Twins. They wanted to take a break after Sophia to get used to raising children with magic. Ten years passed between Sophia and the twins. They were not expecting twins. They didn’t expect a lot of things.

Like the invasion onto their property when the twins were just born.

Percical was reading a book on the porch, not quite seeing the words and mostly listening to the area around him. His time as an adventurer gave him the skill of listening for all potential dangers and logging them in his mind. He knew what sounds were from his children.

He knew what sounds weren’t.

He was forced to his feet before he realised something was wrong. His son was running out of the woods, scared out of his mind. He was scrapped up and bloodied but otherwise fine.

“Go to your mother.” Percival commanded, his heart sinking. The sound of crunching leaves was absent, but there was a loud bang and a pained screech. The screech was echoing. Percival felt it in his chest more than he heard it. Trees shook from the...sound? No this was some kind of spell. Snow and leaves fell off the trees and wood creaked. Percival ran towards the sound, his footsteps were muffled by the recently fallen snow.

The trees were bent towards the perimeter of the makeshift forest that Keyleth had planted to help rejuvenate the land. The younger trees had broken completely at a 90 degree angle and the older trees were cracked.

Sophia was on the ground, half on her side, her hand clutching her face. Blood dripped from between her index and middle finger. She seemed to be looking blankly ahead of herself, not quite looking at anything. Small little sounds left Sophia as she was frozen against a dead stump.

Three men stood in the wooded area. They had cheap mockeries of the weapon that he had created. The weapons did not look like they were strong enough to fire the calibre that Percival used to fire, but they could still do damage. Percival was pissed.

Black smoke built around Percy. His anger seemed all consuming. All of his grief from losing his family seemed to be resurfacing.

Percival knew what he did on a basic level. He just couldn't remember it. His memory went from seeing his daughter injured to black smoke to holding his daughter and stumbling out of the area. Percy knew that he had broken those men when they were blinded by the smoke.

He knew that those men were still alive when he left them there. He just knew that they won’t be getting up again. Too many crushed bones and bloodied wounds.

Sophia clung to Percival’s coat, the cold seeming to be getting to her. Her tail hung limply and she just seemed to shiver.

“It’s ok, Sweetheart. It’s all ok.” Percival whispered. Sophia just hummed. The blood seemed to soak through the coat. It was near boiling against the cold. The steps seemed to get heavier and heavier for Percival.

Vex seemed to be waiting for them outside for them to return. A snowstorm was building on the horizon. The air crystallized around them. Precipitation fell from the sky. It stung against them. Vex placed her hand on Sophia’s back. Sophia turned to face her mother, blood still dripping down her face. Percival put her down, both of them now soaking wet and shivering.

“Sophia, look at me, darling.” Vex kelt down to look at her daughter, the child still clutching at her eye. The self-comforting sounds she made as an infant were audible. Vex grabbed her wrist and gently pulled the hand away.

The eye was gone. It was a gory mess and even with the best magic, there was no saving it.

“Get the doctor.” Vex looked up at Percy. “It’s going to be a long night.”

The operation was long and despite the fires, the wait seemed to make the room colder. Hours seemed to fly by and seemed to take lifetimes to pass. Night seemed to arrive with Keyleth and Pike traveling to show their support. Percival numbly relayed what had happened, at least what he remembered. Shame made itself known on his face.

“What did she see, Darling?” Vex asked. She knew what exactly Percy was scared of. He was letting his fears eat at him. Keyleth picked it up too.

Finally the surgeon went to them.

"She'll live. The bullet didn't go far. She'll wear a patch for the foreseeable future, but she'll be fine." The doctor promised. Vex made it to Sophia's bedside first.

"Oh, darling." Sophia was deep asleep. She had a cloth covering over her eye. The whole room smelled of sanitary cleaners, and she seemed so still.

Logic told Vex that Sophia was alive. Vex's emotions told her that Sophia was too still. There should be a chest rise. Vex had to get close to hear Sophia breathing. Percival sat by the other side of the bed. Her skin was burning against their hands.

“This cannot be allowed to happen again.” Percival frowned. “I will look to see where they got in.”

“I will go with, Help build something to fortify the wooded area.” Keyleth spoke up.

“I’ll have Trinket keep watch. I want to see where this happened.”

Keyleth and Vex were surprised that the trees had been knocked over. The snow had stopped falling and the sky was painted orange as the sun was setting. It reminded Percy of the fires of his forge.

“This is very powerful magic.” Keyleth noted, looking at the downed trees, the stumps stained black from the smoke of Percy’s fury.

“This was panic and a call for help.” Percy stopped right at the clearing. Snow covered the bodies, but it was obvious what they were.

Ketheth looked for a moment and took a deep breath summoning vines to cover the bodies and pull them into the earth, tiny tree saplings covering the whole area.

“How badly beaten are your knuckles, Percy?” Vex asked, grabbing his hands. Even through his gloves, she could feel the swelling around his joints and he made a small pained grunt. Keyleth sent a healing spell his way. The gloves were no longer clinging to his hand.

“It’s nothing. I just-” Percy shook his head. “I made an effort to try to keep my cool around my children and now-”

“Percy are you scared of our children being frightened of you?” Vex turned to face him in the eyes.

“I want them to not be afraid of me.” Percy admitted.

Keyleth looked around asking various critters that were brave enough to return to the flattened area. They led her to a heavily damaged wall, probably from the revolution more than fifteen years ago. Age had made the structure weaker, more climbable.

Keyleth easily fixed it with a tone shape spell, turning dirt around her into stone for more material to work with. As she was working, three small pieces of parchment fell out of the wall. They were notes for loved ones explaining why this happened. She frowned at the thought of this. This was premeditated. These men planned on dying over this. Keyleth brought the letter to Vex and Percy. Percy crumbled them for a moment.

“Let’s leave them where we found it, hide some guards to keep watch. Let’s see who picks that up.” Percy walked away to talk to Casaundra.

The younger De Rolo sibling made her way to the door.

“Was this Briarwood?” Cassandra asked.

“Nothing so composed. Some of the people in our city seem to group my daughter with the Briarwoods and don’t want another ‘monster’ as they put it ruling them.” Percival spat. “Forget the fact that I-”

“You are not a Briarwood. You Are a De Rolo and so is Sophia.” Cassandra countered. “If they want to attack our family, we will deal with it. Should we send-”

“I don’t want to send my daughter away, what if they go after her.” Percy ran his fingers through his hair.

“Then what?” Cassandra asked. “We have to be careful. Where are the people who attacked her?”

“Dead.”

“What?”

“I beat them to death.”

“Oh. did she-” Cassandra gasped.

“See? I don’t know. Frankly I’m scared to ask.” Percy sighed, his voice cracked.

“Do you want me to talk to her? Acknowledge and make an official statement?” Cassandra hugged herself.

“We’re waiting for some conspirators to come around, let's put them on trial.” Percy’s mind was moving many miles an hour.

“Percival. Talk to your child.” Cassandra grabbed his arm, which was shaking.

“What if she sees me as a monster?” Percival whispered.

“She won’t.” Cassandra promised. “You see yourself as the monster. She’ll see her father.” Percival followed her advice.

He went to the room where Sophia was resting. The bed was empty. Percival’s stomach dropped. He looked around to see her bent over a small pot, her tail squeezing around herself and her whole form shivering. Retching sounds came from her small form. She seemed to be gasping and damn near hyperventilation. She wasn't aware of his presence, and her back was to the door. Angry hissing noises came from her.

“Sophia?” Percy asked, his voice soft, the sound a mere ghost of his usually quiet voice.

She turned towards him, not quite facing him. The spade of her tail twitched and the tail loosened its grip around herself. He had her attention. He couldn’t see her face, but he could see that she was tense. “About what happened…”

“You melted.” Her voice was strained. “And there was yelling.”

“Is that what you saw?”

Sophia nodded.

“Why did you vanish?” Sophia looked at him head on, a bit of bile still on the corner of her mouth. Her eye was wide and wet. The other was covered in cloth.

“It’s just something that I can do. You know that black smoke that was there?”

Sophia just nodded.

“That was me. Magic. Like your Aunt Keyleth.” Percy knelt down and looked at her. Sophia stood up shakily. She used a sleeve of her nightgown to wipe at her mouth.

“You didn’t leave?” Sophia asked.

“No. I was there. I got you out.” Percy sighed.

He felt the full force of Sophia as she made her way as fast as she could and hugged him. He hugged her close.

“Don’t just disappear again.” Sophia demanded.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Percy promised. “Now let's get you to bed.”

Percival picked her up and placed her in the bed, placing blankets on top of her. The high temperature had gone down, but rest definitely helped. Percy pulled up a chair and sat next to her.

Soft childish snores filled the room. She was back to sleep, but with heavy chest movements this time. She was doing better.

“How did it go.” Cassandra asked, sticking her head through the door.

“She thought I had vanished on her.” Percy’s jaw clenched.

“Oh. poor thing. She probably needs more rest.” Cassandra smiled sadly.

“She’s stronger than me.” Percival sighed.

“She’s stronger than a lot of us. We found someone picking up the notes. Two women.”

“Sisters or…”

“Wives”

“Put them on trial.” Percival declared.

“And their children?”

“Put them through school. Don’t let their parents’ mistakes be their own.” Percival nodded.

The next days were tough. The fever came and went. Sophia was tired and could barely keep broth down. The trial was had and went. There were veers at the women and some tomatoes were thrown at Sophia. Percival frowned at this.

Sophia didn't talk much after what happened. She was quiet, constantly thinking and taking in her surroundings.

“Sophia, have you considered what you want to do with your eye?” Vex asked. Percival was at a distance but was listening in on this conversation.

“I want something that’s obviously not an eye that looks super cool.” Sophia nodded.

“Aren’t you worried about-”

“Not really.”

“You really are something else, darling.” Vex smiled and played with her hair.

“I think it would be cool.” Sophia shrugged.

The next day Percival, sweaty and exhausted, gave Sophia a white eye with bubbles where the pupil will be.

#tw blood #tw corpses #tw eye damage #percival de rolo #critical role #percival fredrickstein von musel klossowski de rolo iii #vex'ahlia #keyleth

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wouldduskwood · 3 years

Text

Jake's POV Descendants of Despair Part 9

Duskwood - JakexMC fanfic

Contains swearing and references to abuse types

Note: Much of this fictional backstory is improbable but was needed to give depth to the MC character (intelligence, street smarts/survival skills, manipulation and trust issues)- to make her reactions more understandable and leads on to explain other details later.

—————————————————————————————————

I found myself gazing at her in a mixture of frustration and awe. She was an incredible mixture of clear transparency, allowing me to read deep into her soul...and a complex wall that, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't breach. The more time I spent with her, the closer I felt...but her mystery remained. I tried to analyse every micromovement. Under the intensity of my gaze, she lowered her eyes. I wondered if she was as consumed in thought and emotion as I was. I hated to admit it to myself, but I was scared. Terrified.

I cleared my throat, deciding it was pointless to delay the inevitable. “Sorry,” she mumbled. She was sorry... I should have been taking control and she was sorry. I sighed.

“Don’t be, I could start talking too but…let’s just say I get where you are coming from.” My fingers grazed against the table top in an attempt to release some frustration. “It is like we are on a fucking knife edge. It is impossible to just sit back and ignore this, but…what I have to tell you… it could have you running for the hills and permanently ridding yourself of me. I may have a few tricks up my sleeve, but from what I have witnessed these past few days, so do you and I have absolutely no doubt in my mind that if you don’t want to be found, it would be damn near impossible for me to do so.” I lowered my eyes, watching my fingers grating against the rough surface of the table. 'What if she does leave?' I questioned. When this first began, I would have been thankful for that...but now I wasn't so sure. However, I was sure of one thing, that I wanted her to be happy. “I would willingly let you go…if that was what was best for you…but not knowing you were safe…how the fuck could I even function with that possibility.”

She had remained silent during my outburst and I found myself wondering why. Had I scared her off already?

“You realise that everything you have just said is the same pressure I have right now. My past isn’t exactly rainbows, unicorns and fluffy kittens you know.” she groaned.

“Touché,” I admitted. “So,what? Paper, scissors, rock to see who starts?” I suggested with a wry smile, trying to lighten the mood a little.

“No, I’ll begin. Look I already know a bit more about you than you do about me. During our conversations on the phone, I put more pressure on you to reveal information than you ever did to me. That was manipulative of me…” She took a deep breath as I waited as patiently as I could, my gaze flicking between her and the tabletop. I didn't want to make her feel uncomfortable.

“Okay, remember a while ago when we were making small talk. You asked a specific question and it was the first and only time I have ever logged off before you…especially without answering...” “Mm” I mumbled. At the time I had thought I was getting too personal with my questions.

“You asked about my family and at the time I didn’t tell you. It isn’t a short story and it isn’t exactly something I am quick to admit to. I have to tell you now.” she began. I stopped moving my fingers over the tabletop for a minute and looked at her. “Okay, uh I guess I will start at the beginning” she grinned as if buying herself a little time to get her thoughts in order.

“A wise place to start” I muttered dryly and was thrilled when she laughed.

“Smartass” she groaned. That was something I doubted I'd ever get used to. It separated her from all the other females I'd ever known. She swore, got angry and called me out for my shit. She was the most real person I had ever met.

“Okay, I don’t exactly have a family. At least not one I know. The day after I was born, my parents walked out of the hospital and never came back for me. The nurses kept me there for a while as they tried to find where my parents were. Anyway, somehow I contracted an infection from the hospital and I was kept in until that was resolved. Unfortunately this had the negative impact of being classed as potentially being a sickly child…Foster care parents don’t generally willingly take a sickly child, unless they are really serious. There are several kinds of foster care parents. The genuine ones that aim to one day adopt, the ‘kid collectors’, the ‘save the relationships’, the ‘have a gifted kid’…” The list does go on a bit. Anyway, abuse is fairly commonplace in the majority of these homes. The abuse could be emotional, physical or sexual in nature….” her voice cracked as she spoke, indicating how deep her hurt had been. I cast her a concerned look and hesitantly reached a hand towards her but pulled it back before we touched. I wanted to support her, hold her, make everything okay. But the reality was, it wasn't okay and I didn't know if my closeness would make that fact even more raw for her.

She swallowed sharply then began her story again. “By the time I was 6, I was in a pretty dire situation…I won’t go into much detail here, maybe one day but…not yet. I remember staying awake late into the night contemplating. I cried a lot that night. Before dawn, I packed the few belongings I had and left. I had made the decision to try and make it on my own. It was a terrifying thought. I knew the world outside would be dangerous but I also knew I wouldn’t survive long where I was. I was glad I had left when I did, the sun was beginning to rise so my surroundings weren’t quite as scary. I made my way to the “ghetto” part of town and people watched for a while. I saw an elderly woman sitting on the bench near the railroad. I watched her for a bit and established she likely had a drinking problem. I recognised the telltale signs from watching my foster carer drink. I knew what alcohol could potentially do to somebody but she seemed safe enough so I approached her and asked if I could sit with her for a while. She took a look at my appearance and must have decided I needed help. She became my only caregiver and first real teacher. She taught me to read, write and simple math using things we found lying around. I maintained a cool and wary distance from her. I knew she wouldn’t hurt me herself but I also knew she would sell me for a drop of alcohol if it came to that.”

Pain mingled with awe. At such a young age, to recognise she needed to choose between the uncertainty of life on the street or she faced death...I had met plenty of adults that would have pissed themselves with lighter situations than that.

Part 10

#duskwood mc #duskwood fanfic #duskwood jake x #duskwood jake pov #duskwood jake x player #duskwood jakexplayer #duskwood jake x mc #duskwood jakexmc fanfic #duskwood

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celestialmark · 4 years

Text

Solitude - Epilogue

Characters: Mark Lee x reader, members of nct

Category: sniper!mark, mafia au

Word count: 4.9K

Warnings: death, cursing, violence

Author’s note: ahhh! this really does mark the end of this series ;; I felt emotional writing this I had to stop every now and again hahaha but I just wanted to say thank you to everyone who have been patiently following this series from the day the preview was released. I had so much fun working on this and I hope I did the plot and characters justice. love you guys, and I really hope you like this.

The sun shines brightly above Johnny, the cloudless skies giving it all the space it could possibly need to spread as much light as possible. Still, the wind that blows occasionally is cold, sometimes even biting his skin, but nonetheless, it’s a beautiful day to be out and about. Too bad, the weather just didn’t seem to fit Johnny’s mood, no matter how much it would’ve lifted his spirits on any other given day.

Johnny sighs for the umpteenth time in the day, too early for his liking to be sulking when he hasn’t even gone through half of it yet. His hard eyes are trained below him, re-reading and re-reading the words engraved on the cold stone. Lee Taeyong’s name shouldn’t be on it, it really shouldn’t because Taeyong was still so young and still had so much ahead of him, still so much to patch things up with Johnny. Yuta was gone, but Taeyong was too. It’s been weeks, it’s been long agonising weeks after the incident but Johnny remembers it all so well, like it was just yesterday. But what he remembers the most is his best friend, slipping away right in his hands where he vowed to save him, to save his life, because Johnny swore he couldn’t deal with another loss of someone he wanted in his life forever.

But Lee Taeyong is gone. Forever.

And Johnny isn’t so sure exactly he’s holding up because he’s always known that being a part of this kind of world, of this kind of a job even when he left ages ago, that lives are bound to be lost. He just didn’t expect it to be Taeyong. And he most definitely didn't expect it to be so soon. At the back of his mind, Johnny was for sure convinced nothing would be worse than losing the love of his life, that maybe nothing would ever compare to that kind of loss, but being here now, standing right in front of a dear friend’s grave, reminds him that losing anyone you hold so close to your heart will always be just as heartbreaking and as painful as the first.

Johnny bends down after a good fifteen minutes to set the bouquet of flowers he’s been holding in his hands since his arrival, setting it down beside the others that had already been put there by previous visitors of the group. Johnny’s eyes are empty when he stands up straight again, releasing a big sigh. It’s a pity, he believes, how his last moments of Taeyong weren’t pleasant, how he’s grown all too complaisant the past two years of always believing Taeyong would be around, and that there’d always be a time to make amends whenever the time was right and when he had properly healed himself.

That’s when the guilt sets in.

“Hey.”

Johnny finds Jeno to his left with an arrangement of flowers in his hand. He smiles at the elder as he walks towards him and Johnny tries to return it. Johnny watches as Jeno sets the flowers down next to his, falling into the space beside him as he breathes in the fresh air of the hills. There’s silence for a good two minutes, each of them unconsciously studying Taeyong’s headstone laid flat on the ground. When Jeno sees Johnny sigh again from the corner of his eye, that’s when he decides to talk first.

“I hope you’re not blaming yourself,” he starts lowly, not really sure how to address such matters to the elder who’s always been the one on the giving end of advices. “You’ve been here every single day for the past two and a half weeks.”

Johnny should have expected this from Jeno by now, his sharp personality literally not missing a single thing without even trying. It’s no surprise he’s noticed something even he didn’t, for coming here every single day didn’t feel like anything to him at all anymore. “I don’t know.. I just.”

“Yeah,” Jeno agrees even when Johnny doesn’t finish his sentence. “We.. the boys still can’t believe it either.” Jeno kicks lightly at the ground, tearing his eyes off Taeyong’s name for the first time since he arrived. “But, it’s not right to blame any of ourselves, I think.”

Johnny shrugs his shoulders. “I just feel like I should have done more to keep him alive. Maybe if I’d just taken him out of there sooner-”

“Okay Johnny stop,” Jeno interferes, twisting his body to face him. “We were all there, alright. And if you had done that, who knows, we would have lost more than just Taeyong that day.” Jeno sighs, his shoulders dropping, “Taeyong is already so much to lose... we can’t afford to have lost you either.”

Johnny doesn’t answer, still too lost in his own thoughts.

“Look,” Jeno huffs, but feels for Johnny. “There is nothing Taeyong wouldn’t have done to protect all of us, to make sure we’re safe, right? It’s always been his utmost priority to keep us alive and knowing him, he wouldn’t have hesitated to do anything to stick to that.” Jeno reaches a hand out to pat Johnny on the shoulder. “Yes, it’s a shame to have lost him in the process, but Taeyong... he would never want any of us to point fingers because it was no one’s fault.”

Johnny sighs again, the last memory of Taeyong too similar to his last memory of Ari and he thinks that’s why it’s killing him inside.

“Just..” Johnny murmurs. “His last words to me were “I’m sorry”... I wish it was something else. Because knowing he died feeling sorry to me, just makes me regret so much, makes me feel like there was definitely more I could have done to save him.”

Jeno gives Johnny’s shoulder a squeeze, seeing him vulnerable for the first time ever since Ari’s incident. “You know, for the past two years, Taeyong has wanted nothing other than to say sorry to you.” Johnny looks lifts his head from the ground and looks at Jeno.

“And the fact that he finally got to say it you, already meant so much to him.”

Donghyuck heaves a sigh to himself when he sees Jeno, Renjun and Jaemin all slumped on the couch on a Thursday evening, right before they’re about to set out for a transaction that’s been planned from way before. Nothing feels right, his chest too heavy sometimes it’s too much for him to bear. But knowing he’s next in line after Mark, he couldn’t help but shoulder all the responsibility that’s suddenly thrown in the air after Taeyong’s passing. It’s cruel, he thinks, how the world continues to revolve even after something so tragic occurred. But it’s a reality he knows they’re all going to have accept sooner or later. Sure, they’ve lost members before and have definitely put their lives on the line to secure deals and payments, but this time it was different, because it was Taeyong they’re talking about, the very alpha of the mafia, the very person who breathed them into life from years back. It felt weird not having him around, despite the constant fear he elicited in them, because at the end of the day, Taeyong always looked after their wellbeing on the down low even if he didn't show it.

Donghyuck’s never seen the boys so sullen before and now that he’s suddenly in charge for the time being, he needed to be the one to pull them altogether, otherwise, they’d all fall down together and that was the last thing he wanted.

Life had to go on.

“Alright boys,” Donghyuck half yells as he claps his hands together once, the sound echoing in the almost empty room. “Let’s get this done fast so we can all go home and plan for our next.”

Jeno rises from the couch quietly as Renjun follows almost begrudgingly while it takes Jaemin a little bit more effort to get up. Donghyuck sighs again, walking over to Jaemin and grabbing his hand so that he can pull him up. Jaemin grumbles, his body flimsy from not wanting to get up.

Donghyuck is about to snap, his short-tempered nature threatening to show but he figures it’s not what the boys needed today. So he sympathises instead, “Look, I know it’s hard. But we have to do this. We can’t sit here and mope around all day. We have to keep going.”

Upon hearing this, Donghyuck gets the most response from the boys for the first time in a while. Jeno had been doing well up at this point, but seeing Renjun and Jaemin acknowledge him and his instructions, makes him a little relieved and a little less on edge, the determination on their faces evidence of the need to do well.

They were going to be back in business in no time.

It takes no less than thirty minutes for Jeno to drive to their destination with the crates secured in the boot. From what they’ve gathered, it’s a small transaction with a group they’ve almost never heard of but upon research, are supposed to be very brutal with exchanges. Donghyuck’s not too worried and he can tell the others aren’t either when Jeno pulls up to a secluded area right in front of an open gymnasium. It’s the perfect place be, no people around, dim lights flickering over the whole building, and just three people waiting in the middle for them. Donghyuck steps out of the van first, followed by the rest of the boys who take it upon themselves to grab the crates from the back. But what surprises Donghyuck is not by what he sees, but by who he sees.

He runs his tongue across the inside of his cheek and a smirk follows when he realises who he’s about to make a transaction with. He raises a brow as a he rests his hands on either sides of his hips, tapping his foot on the gravel three times.

“You’re Charlie?”

The woman in front of him tips her head upwards, raising her chin as she inhales a breath, crossing her arms across her chest in the process.

“And you’re eighteen minutes late.”

Renjun and Jaemin stop right behind Donghyuck as they place the crates on the ground in front of them. He’s just as surprised as Jeno when their eyes widen, their attention falling on the woman who appears to be the leader of the two men on either side of her.

This was definitely a first.

Donghyuck frowns when she retaliates, not only was she meeting a female leader of a mafia for the first time, she was calling into question his authority of the situation too. Donghyuck suddenly feels threatened, and it hasn’t even been five minutes yet and she’s barely spoken a few words. But Donghyuck is convinced it’s because of the way she’s looking, no, glaring at him from where she stands, facial features sharp that make her look extra aggressive. Her orbs are dark, the dark shadows on her lids adding to the intensity of her stare with her black hair tied up neatly in a ponytail, loose curls falling just past her shoulders. When Donghyuck eyes her up and down discretely, he realises they’re wearing almost the exact same clothes, all black from head to toe, topped with a leather jacket that hugs her body perfectly that he can't seem to take his eyes off of her.

Jaemin blinks from behind Donghyuck when he notices how long the silence has stretched on and how his friend is just only ever gawking at her. So Jaemin nudges Donghyuck using his elbow to hopefully snap him out of his trance.

Donghyuck’s throat runs dry and he coughs when he finally comes back to his senses. Straightening himself up, he reminds himself what he’s here for and that he wants to finish strong, just like how he always does.

“Better late than never, right?” Donghyuck challenges, his voice mocking.

But Charlie does not look amused, she doesn’t even twitch a muscle, just continues to stare at Donghyuck like he’s the most absurd creature she’s ever seen. And this puts Donghyuck on edge even more, more than he’ll ever admit.

“Either you arrive on time or never come at all,” Charlie replies calmly, pulling the sleeve of her jacket to briefly glance at the watch on her wrist. “My time is too valuable for people who can’t respect it.”

Renjun makes eye contact with Jeno and they both share unsure looks with each other, already knowing Donghyuck was going to have a hard time dealing with the lady who’s probably making him sweat by now.

Donghyuck is never nervous nor intimated, and absolutely never both at the same time. But Charlie has made history tonight because those two are exactly what he’s feeling. And it feels so unfamiliar it makes the hairs on his skin stand.

Donghyuck clears his throat again and it only makes the three boys behind him even more nervous. “So then why don't we get this transaction on the road so that we no longer “waste” your time?” Donghyuck attempts to fight back, making sure to use quotation marks as a way of obviously mocking her in attempts of masking what he’s feeling.

“Thought you’d never ask,” Charlie mumbles but loud enough for Donghyuck and the boys to hear as she rolls her eyes.

Renjun and Jaemin push the crates to the middle, in between where Donghyuck and Charlie stand. Charlie walks over to it, tapping both boxes with her foot before signalling her two men to step forward and examine the contents of each wooden crate. She doesn’t take her eyes off the two even for a second and when they're done, both looking back up at her with a nod to let her know everything in there is everything that was initially agreed on, Charlie nods back, the two falling in place behind her again.

Charlie throws a black duffel bag on the ground and it lands right by Donghyuck’s foot. Donghyuck, taken aback by how laid back this person is, especially considering she might have a good idea of who he was and which mafia he belonged to, looks back up at her slowly after watching her toss the bag to him.

“The exact amount is in there,” Charlie says, unbothered and clearly bored. “See you around.”

There’s something about this woman that Donghyuck can’t seem to point his finger at, something about her that makes it almost impossible for him to take his eyes off of her and he’s annoyed with himself for feeling so... mesmerised by her, by her every word, by her every move. No one, and he means no one, has ever caught his attention this much before. So he continues to watch her, continues to examine her to try and find what it actually is about her that's gotten him in a tongue-tied mess, as she lowers herself, readying to pick up one of the crates from the ground, pulling both the sleeves up of her jacket in the process.

Donghyuck’s eyes almost pop out of their sockets in that second.

Because that’s when he sees it.

The dragon etched on her right arm.

The exact same one as his.

Mark keeps you close, as close as he could possibly have you, pressed up against his body as you become oblivious to the world around you when you fall into slumber. He still can’t fathom that you’re here, with him, right beside where he can hold you like this, arms wrapped around your frame, your breath against his skin. And what’s even better is that every now and again, you’re scooting and shuffling in your spot, needing to feel more of his warmth unconsciously. He’s never been this close to you before, not even during all those times you shared shelter in the same roof and to finally be able to embrace you for as long as he desired, for as long as you needed him to, feels too good. Too good it doesn’t seem real.

But when you jolt under his arms, he knows it’s real.

And as much as he loved the idea of you right beside him like this, he hated the fact that you were suffering and hurting right before his eyes.

You startle in your sleep again, a jolt that’s stronger than the first, your body trembling from its after effects. You’re having another nightmare, Mark believes, and he’s almost sure it’s a replay of one of the events you’ve had to witness in the past few weeks. Nights have consisted of these, of him losing sleep just to he can make sure you’re getting yours, of him holding you close because you’ve told him it helps you sleep better, of your nightmares seeming too real you jolt awake in tears.

Mark begins to rub your back with his palm in a soothing manner in hopes of putting your nightmares to rest. The shaking stops momentarily and that’s when your consciousness brings you back to life, making you flutter your eyes open only to be greeted by Mark’s orbs that are already staring at you.

“Nightmare?”

You force a small smile before you move closer to rest your head against his chest, “Mhm,” breathing a sigh of relief at his warmth. “Taeyong, this time.”

Mark has apologised to you a thousand times before, so much so that you’ve had to stop him from ever saying those words to you because even without vocalising how sorry he was, you already felt it. You felt it in the way he tended to all your needs during the aftermath of it all, in the way he looked at you with sad eyes and in all the ways he’s made extra effort to look after you even in the smallest ways. Mark didn’t have to say he was sorry, his body gave him away too much, it always has.

But Mark has never felt even more compelled to say sorry than now, at times where you can’t sleep at night. Because at the end of the day, he will still always feel responsible for your suffering now, no matter how many times you’ve reassured him.

“Please don't say sorry,” you murmur into his chest, Mark’s eyes widening at your words that correlated with his thoughts. “Please,” you lift your head away from his chest and crane your neck to look up at him, “Don’t say it.”

And Mark understands.

“Okay,” he breathes. “I won’t.”

You let your eyes linger on his sparkling ones, captivated by the thousand galaxies they held, even in the darkness of the room. They’re searching yours, looking for something, anything he can possibly hold on to so that he doesn’t feel the need to say sorry any longer, something that can tell him you’re okay now.

“I feel safe with you,” you almost whisper, meaning every word, gazing straight into his painfully crystal eyes that are reflecting you.

Mark doesn’t move, letting the words sink in because if there was anything else in this world he wanted you to feel around him, it would be safety and security. And knowing that now, those words coming right from the deepest part of you, relieves him in so many ways he didn’t expect, from having been on edge the moment he chose to drag you into his life.

He knows you mean it, but a small part of him wants to make sure, “You do?”

You nod, bringing your thumb to swipe across his cheek repeatedly. “I do,” you smile, feeling him lean into your touch, “I feel the safest with you.”

Mark doesn’t remember the last time he cried because he isn’t the type to and never in a million years did he imagine he’d be on the verge of tears from having heard those words come out from you. But then again, they’re words he’s been longing to hear, and it’s coming from the one person he’s always wanted to hear it from.

“You don't know how happy that makes me,” Mark whispers back, a smile now lifting on his face, his cheekbones appearing in the dark. “That’s all I ever want.”

You mirror his smile, content to have put his worries and doubts to sleep, his smile reaching his glistening eyes. “Hey, what time is it?” You ask.

“A little past two in the morning.”

“Let’s go for a walk?”

Staying in Johnny’s for the meantime house had a lot of pros, and one of them was that you had access to the beach in no less than two minutes. It’s a full moon tonight, the bright light it emits shining through the few clouds and reflecting right onto the gentle waves lapping by the shore. You’re warm in Mark’s hoodie, one of the many things you missed during your time apart and he reaches for your hand and laces it with his fingers, like it’s the most natural thing for him to do. But you smile anyway, because his hand feels warm in yours and he’s smiling gently at you with a gaze so soft it can melt your entire being.

It all feels nostalgic, remembering the very last time you were here was with Mark and with the discovery of him being your soulmate. You remember how scared and confused you were then, wondering what the future had in store for you. But tonight, there was none of that. It felt right to be here, to be here with Mark and even though you still had no clue what the future held for you, you didn’t seem to mind it too much anymore, because you knew that you weren’t going to be fighting for your life anymore.

You let your bare feet sink into the sand as you traipse along the shore, the stillness of the air soothing you, untying the knots in your muscles you weren’t aware had formed. Mark falls in step with you and you feel his eyes linger on you, not even one short moment passing where you don’t feel his gaze on you.

“Mark, I’m going to melt if you keep staring like that,” you say without even looking at him, catching him off guard.

Mark chuckles bashfully and finally tears his eyes off of you, “Sorry.”

The sound rings in your ears and it makes your heart stop momentarily, remembering just how endearing this man was. No one speaks for a few moments, allowing the gentle sounds of the waves take over and that’s when you realise you’ve never really talked about soulmate aspect of your relationship with Mark, the only time it ever really came up was when he confessed. So you decide to ask him tonight.

“Mark?” You call out, making his head turn. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

You purse your lips together as Mark anticipates your question before you finally muster the courage to ask, “When... you found out, about, you know, about me being your soulmate,” you pause, looking upwards to see him react. He only nods at you with a smile, urging you to continue. “How.. how did you feel?”

Mark draws in a breath as he looks away from you, looking straight into the distance to help himself find an answer. He begins to think back to that time, when he unintentionally came across that picture of you and your mark. “I felt curious, I guess. I mean I never really believed in the whole soulmate thing you know? Or, well, I mean I didn't believe in it happening to me. I just never thought about it up until that point.. that I actually have one. But-- it’s not that I didn’t believe in them completely, Johnny found his.”

“And then I found out you were mine. I felt shocked because wow, I actually do have one, someone out there exists for me. But then you turned out to be the person I had to...” Mark trails off and looks at you with a shrug of his shoulders and you get what he’s trying to say. “Fast forward, we began to live under the same roof, I got to know you over the few weeks that we had and if I'm being honest with you, I slowly started to understand why you’re my soulmate.”

Your brows shoot up, your curiosity growing, “Mhm?”

Mark laughs to himself awkwardly, avoiding your eyes as he uses his free hand to rub the nape of his neck. “This is going to sound really cheesy. Are you sure you want to hear it?”

You chuckle and urge him to continue speaking with a nudge, “I’m sure.”

Mark blows air out of his cheeks and braces himself, pretending to stretch his muscles in the process. He gives your hand a light squeeze and you return the favour to let him know you're all ears. “Okay, here goes. Have you ever noticed the way I've never talked about my family before?” You blink and then nod when you have no recollection whatsoever. “Well, that’s because I don't have any. I’m an orphan. I used to live on the streets y/n, for a really long time until Taeyong found me. And that’s how I got into the mafia.. the boys have similar stories, and that’s why we owe everything to Taeyong.”

You feel Mark hold your hand tighter and you prepare yourself for what he’s about to say next, comforting him by using your free hand to rub his arm. “That mafia, the guys, this thing that I do, that was all I ever knew growing up. I didn’t have anything else. And I guess, a part of me, there was always, kind of, some place empty, you could say. I was looking for something I didn’t even know, just because, I didn’t feel enough. I- I, didn’t know what it was like to feel.. complete.”

Mark stops in his steps and turns to face you, your heartbeat pounding and your knees growing weak because you see something in his eyes you haven’t noticed before. “But then.. you. You changed all that. You’re my soulmate because, you,” Mark pauses to smile, bringing both of his hands to cup your cheeks. “You fill all the empty spaces. You, you make me feel complete. And for the first time I'm not wondering what I'm missing, because I finally have it,

I.. finally have you.”

You’re not sure how you’re not crying yet but you can definitely feel the tears brimming your eyes. “God, I'm so glad you feel the same way,” you blurt out in a breath, half laughing to yourself incredulously.

Mark’s eyes widen, “What?”

You chuckle as your first tear falls, “It means I like you too, idiot.”

Just when you thought Mark’s eyes couldn’t get any bigger, they do, “You do?”

“Mark, I’ve lost count of all the times I thought I was going to die..” You start, just as Mark runs a thumb across your cheek to wipe away your tear. “And then I met you and a part of me, a big part of me wished and hoped my soulmate would’ve been you because God, everything with you just felt so right. I felt so safe and secure and it was a feeling I never knew existed but couldn't get enough of..”

Your breathing starts to become uneven when the tears don’t stop, but Mark doesn’t drop his gaze and never stops catching your tears.

“After years of running away, for the first time, I, I felt at peace,” you muster a weak smile, your vulnerability on full show.

You step away from Mark, using the back of your hand to wipe away the remainder of your tears. You turn your back to him and bundle up your hair to one side before you're tugging down at his hoodie to show him your mark on the nape of your neck. Mark, having seen it for the first time in real life, thinks it’s beautiful, that tonight, you've proven him it was actually possible for you to be even more beautiful than you already were.

“This mark,” you say, your back still facing him. “Our marks, do you know what they symbolise?” You turn to face him again when he doesn’t answer, fixing his hoodie on your body. “It symbolises peace Mark, and it fits so well because you’re my peace.”

Mark falls for you even harder than the previous times.

“Why are you crying?” You ask with a breathy laugh, another set of tears falling when you see Mark’s.

Mark laughs and is quick to wipe away his tears. He shrugs his shoulders after, “I don’t know. I'm just really happy.”

You reach to embrace him and he holds you tight by the waist, nuzzling his nose into your shoulder and hoping for this moment to never end. You run your fingers through his hair, a sigh of relief and contentment leaving you to finally have everything off your chest.

When Mark pulls away, his hands never leave you, lifting them both up to hold carrels your cheek and neck. He’s looking straight into your eyes, his orbs shining like they always do, and there’s so much adoration and affection in them and knowing that they’re all for you makes you feel overwhelmed all over again.

“Can I kiss you?” he whispers, leaning forward to lean his forehead against yours.

You close your eyes to relish in the feeling of having Mark so close like this, “Yes.”

Mark takes another moment to study your features, mentally thanking the heavens for blessing him with someone as painfully amazing as you.

Then he kisses you.

And you swear that nothing has ever felt this right in your whole life ever.

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tosikoarts · 4 years

Text

SFW Alphabet | L Lawliet

L is here too, wow. You can check tosikowrites tag for more. Warning: there’s a lot, again.

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Here is the thing: сhildren receiving inadequate affection may manifest stunted physical growth despite receiving adequate nutrition, so you can imagine what it can do to the emotional growth and perception of other people. Watari tried to cultivate kindness, mercy, love equally in his wards but it is impossible considering how many orphans reside in Wammy’s house. Little L was more interested in the world’s famous inventions, books, riddles than in other children, and now you have to face the consequences.

He has to start from scratch. In the beginning L sticks to mimicking affection given to him. You bought him a box of chocolate, he will buy you a box of eclairs. You ruffled his hair, he will play with yours, twisting it on finger. You hugged him and he will hug you whenever feels convenient. At some point he will find new ways of showing his love.

Understanding that he can do other things too gave him insight. He can try this, and that, and ask you if you liked it or not, wow. L’s curiosity will take over: different types of kisses, various cuddle positions, playful fights, nights out, nights in – he wants to do it all.

Well, not everything is so rosy. During work, he forgets what he has learned and goes back to his old self. Sadly, this won’t change no matter what.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Where to begin? How do you even get this man to be your friend? You don’t. He chooses you and then suddenly, - boom! – you’re best friends forever, it is established fact. But before it happens, he will study you like an ant under a magnifying glass.

There is not a lot of places where he can find a person with an IQ close to his. High chance L will look for a friend among the best FBI agents or fellow detectives.

Friends who judge people together stay together. He is a person who likes to spill some tea and throw a little shade for entertainment.

Sarcasm and irony are things that no conversation can go without, so L wants a person who doesn’t get offended right away and can keep up with it.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

The best way to make L shut up is to cuddle him. No way he will refuse a good cuddle session when in private, but will hesitate if someone else is around.

He’s 100% touch-starved. All cuddle positions are fine, but if you want to knock him out completely go for face to face cuddle while on his lap. Now he can’t sit in frog-like position (so his IQ has already dropped) and there’s person playing with his hair? Congratulation, L has fallen.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

D stands for domestic and disaster when it comes to both cooking and cleaning. Even though he would love to settle down and retire from detective work, he has no skills when it comes to the most basic things. His whole life someone else took care for those little unimportant tasks so he could push human mind to its limit, and now it’s too late for relearning. When he tries to cook it never ends up well, you just have to accept this man’s futility and move on.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

There was nothing surprising that he had to break up with you. No other possible ending for such relationship, absurd and strange, and with someone like him. L will choose cruel ghosting because explanation is for losers and emotionally mature people. One day he vanishes from your radar: no more messages, no more calls, nobody knows him because L never met your friends. Conscience continues to nibble him for two weeks or so, he has to continuously fight desire to contact you and he would miserably fail if there was no Kira to occupy all of his free time.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Two to three years are enough for him to pop a question. Those months were spent in careful study and relationship viability assessment. Let’s be real, he will put person he likes in tricky situations just to evaluate their reaction. Manipulative? Yes. Cruel? Yes. Weird? Yes. He won’t allow anything extreme though. After all, he learned a lot about human interactions and developed undoubtedly strong feelings for them. In addition, he will propose during trip to Kyoto, when visiting Kiyomizu-dera with its famous Love Shrine. Right after “Why would I walk between these stones if I already found you?”.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

In the beginning his level of gentleness is somewhere between a log and jar of jam. Day by day, week by week L realizes that all of his actions come down to the will to care, love, protect, - and guess what? – these three have to be gentle in order to fit the definition of healthy relationship. He allows himself to grow emotionally. If we talk about physical sphere, he is very cautious from the beginning and tries to fight his natural stiffness so another person can feel his love.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

It’s another of his weakness. L wasn’t properly hugged as a child and it took a toll on him: when you hug him for first time, he is stiff and awkward. Second time is better, but his hands on your back still feel like a mannequin’s grip.

L grows fond of warmth and comfort pretty fast and he starts to initiate hugs himself. His favorite part of the day is when he tiptoes to you from behind, grabs you in bear hug, and you both fall on the sofa/bed/anything soft enough to leave you without bruises.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

He suddenly blurted it out after only 3 months of dating. It sounded so innocent, affectionate, sincere, that he shut up for a minute to rethink what just happened. He totally meant what he said, of course, but at the same time, he was not sure it was the right moment, the right tone, even the right choice of words. L will try to explain what he wanted to say in trembling voice but will not say anything coherent because L.exe stopped working.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Because of how hard it is to let new people in, L becomes very attached to those who have overcome all obstacles and decided to stay in his life. Thus fear of abandonment arises, and so does jealousy.

He is not paranoid about where you are and who you spend your time, but he doesn’t mind knowing it. You don’t want to use a tracker on your phone? Too bad, maybe, he’s already installed it. For your safety only.

Easily jealous and will need a lot of reassurance despite immediately becoming distant and silent. It is another way of manipulation because what if you do leave him all alone?

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Again, he didn’t have a lot of practice so L’s kisses are sloppy and a little rough. His lips are always chapped because of constant licking and biting during intense thought process, and they feel a little dry on your skin. Because of this (and awkwardness, of course) L will quickly shift kisses into cuddles or hugs. He both prefers to kiss and be kissed on the forehead, since, in his opinion, it is the gentlest expression of love.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

The God is dead, house is on fire, Watari maneuvers between flames, trying to save the day. No, seriously, kids love L, he looks like a character from their favorite cartoon, but since he is not the most energetic person, to say the least, they quickly lose interest in him. The best solution for L is to babysit with someone who is more experienced and can guide him through this complicated process. Otherwise, he will make sure all dangerous objects are out of reach and leave children to themselves (if their age allows, of course).

Afraid to have kids of his own. Living in orphanage, he had no real functional family so a thought of parent's duty scares him.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

· Morning routine depends on L’s messed up sleeping schedule:

If he went to bed last night, it means sleep deprivation finally got to him. Next 12 hours or so he will spend in blanket cocoon, tossing and slightly snuffling. No human power can wake him up, there’s no point in trying.

However if he stayed up all night, you will find out your kitchen turned into delicious sweet buffet. TV is still turned on with weird movie playing, but no sound is coming out of speakers. A tower of empty teacups is about to collapse. L is sitting in the chair, eating two cupcakes at once, lost in thoughts. He will offer you to join him in feast and raise his head a little, exposing his cheek for a kiss. It’s 5 am. Sun is rising and erasing last stars from the sky. Life is good.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

·Nights out are rare, most of the times you stay inside, eating take-out and watching true crime documentaries. He still cannot decide whether they are dumb or interesting, so he keeps watching and changing his opinion with every new episode. After you go to bed, L will lay down next to you. Sometimes he will fall asleep, cuddling you and nuzzling into your neck. Sometimes he will get up and do God knows what.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Well, he gives you fake name, always lies about his job, and holds back many details about his life… L wants to open up, he really does, but there’s no way he will do it. To every question he has a prepared half-true answer. Everything related to detective work is hidden behind seven seals and will be never presented to you unless you’re from FBI.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

The embodiment of serenity, L never gets angry in classical sense. He may sulk, turn to sarcasm, shower your with stinging comments or, on the contrary, suddenly stop talking, but you’ll never see him red-faced, screaming, swearing right and left. He doesn’t have time to waste energy on such silly thing. It takes a lot to make him mad. After he calms down, L will continue make bitter remarks about thing that pissed him off for weeks.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Not that attentive, really. You would expect him to remember a lot but he is always busy chasing exceptional criminals and his brain erases many details, both minor and major. For example, he can easily forget your Birthday and congratulate you both before and after it.

L never fails to remember anniversaries thanks to phone reminders. However, if he doesn’t check his phone that day, he will forget about them as well.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

No matter how trite it may sound, his favorite moment is their first kiss. L clearly remembers his heart beating deafeningly loud and palms sweating like he’s kid who got in big trouble. There is no picture left in his memory, only feelings and crazy thoughts, terribly matted together. After it happened, L couldn’t even make a witty remark. Later that day he sat in front of overflowing cup of tea and slowly realized how little happiness he had felt before.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Since he did everything to protect himself first and then, - just in case, - put a spying app on the phone of his loved, a satisfactory sense of security drowns out all of his possible fears. If anything happens, there’s already a rescue plan waiting to be executed.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Let’s say he is trying, he is trying his best every day.

When it comes to presents, L will go for advice to Internet, rarely to Watari, and choose gift as close as possible to your interests. Dates are all on you though, because he feels so strange when he has to plan something for you two. On a subconscious level, he is afraid to ruin everything.

Tries even harder on anniversaries (if he remembers about them) and you either have the best day of your life, when he does whenever you want, or you are all alone wondering what the actual heck. In short, it’s all or nothing situation.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

L is obviously manipulative, you can’t justify him. Some manipulation techniques are so integrated in his thinking and speech that it is impossible to get rid of them. Like if gaslighting was an Olympic sport, he would have all golden, silver, and bronze medals.

It seems like the opposite to the first point, but L also loves to be inappropriate straightforward. You know, moments when you understand what you feel but when another person vocalizes it or comments on it, you absolutely lose your shit? That’s what we talk about.

Quirkiness. I don’t really think this needs explanation. The totality of his strange habits can be a very repulsive sight to an ordinary person.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Watari is more concerned about his looks than he is. L never buys his clothes, his wardrobe is minimalist’s dream and consists of few pieces of monotone clothes, three pairs of shoes, and warm jacket for a fall/winter season. He doesn’t like brushing his hair, bites his nails to the blood, but absolutely adores hot bubble bathes. Looks do not matter when all people see is the letter L in Gothic font.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Depends on time spent in the relationship:

It’s stupid to expect L to suffer tremendously if you leave in first two months. When you are here he is a little bit happier, when you are not he is not that concerned. There’s still a high chance you’ll see him as he sees himself and leave, so why would he bother? It’s almost a painful expectation for another person to give up. If it ends, nothing will change, end of story.

Later L starts to catch himself worrying that someone finally climbed over the wall of his alienation, and it doesn’t seem like they are planning to leave any time soon. The closer they get, the scarier it is. If you suddenly cut all ties, he will be heartbroken, his face is emotionless like always but he is still hurt deep inside.

If anything happens a lot later in relationship, like year or two, L’s reaction will be calmer. He is grateful for everything they had and shared with him, for every moment of happiness, so he doesn’t feel like they can leave completely now. They will remain in his memory and his heart and because of it he won’t feel “incomplete”. A little bitter, but not hurt or emotionally torn apart.

If there’s any possibility that his loved one was killed by Kira, L will be furious. He will turn over every stone, use everything he can to avenge them and bring a peace to their memory.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

It’s scary how much time L spends in frog-like position with back hunched. Therefore I feel like he will be ecstatic if someone offered him a good back massage to relax those tense muscles.

Overall, he loves random spa days when you two spend time in sauna, hot springs, yoga class etc. This probably would be his present on your first anniversary.

Some children were obsessed with dinosaurs, some were obsessed with superheroes, but L was obsessed with occultism, urban legends, haunted things, unexplained disappearances, and ghosts. His obsession died but its influence didn’t. Why else would he be so scarred and intrigued after hearing about Shinigami?

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Just like Light, he wouldn’t stand blatant stupidity. Even if there’s something to compensate it, he will grow tired of dumb questions or over-all behavior. Oh, and he will give his comments on it whenever possible too.

Nosiness and bad boundaries. If he keeps some information to himself, it is not because of luck of trust. As a world’s best detective, he has many reasons to dodge personal questions to protect his work from interference and himself from possibility of getting killed.

He doesn’t like loud noises but can put up with it if needed with his collections of different ear plugs.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habit of theirs?)

It’s a common knowledge L’s sleeping schedule is non-existent. It has been like it since the day he took his first case and nothing has changed since. Watari keeps an eye on how many hours L stays awake and suggests him to rest from time to time but it rarely helps. Once L got so exhausted he straight up started hallucinating about having an adopted child and it scarred the hell out of him. After this incident he takes Watari’s advice more seriously.

L tried different versions of polyphase sleep at least once. Non of them worked, he ended up even more tired and frustrated, lost feeling in one of his arms, then broke a cup because of it.

Also L can sleep everywhere, no matter how uncomfortable he is. In the chair, leaning on the wall, on the floor – it all works for him unless there’s a loud noise in the room.

#death note #l lawliet #death note headcanons #l lawliet headcanons #L #death note headcanon #tosikowrites

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ricinbach · 3 years

Text

mercy. | chapter 4 - flame

the makeshift trio make their way to a safe haven.

Joel Miller was a man of many words.

Relentless when it came to bringing down hordes of infected lunging at him, or when he was raining bullets down on whatever hostility ended up in his sights. One simple glance at him would be enough to make an ordinary survivor run five times back. A resourceful man, finding ways to walk out, to get information, to somehow get through when no other could. Cold, cruel and when all else came down to it, when he had no other choice, a downright savage.

Merciful had not been a trait he got associated with often.

In this world full of unknowns at every rotten corner, the gruff man had been another enigma on his very own - as someone who endured so much loss and so much pain would rightfully become. It had taken him many cheap mistakes and scars on his taut skin along his years of surviving to learn how to slowly, painfully construct walls in his mind that kept the flooding memories sealed, along with demonstrations of emotion - yet every single line on his tan skin and every little glimmer of light amber in his eyes told otherwise, now and then, succumbing to his human nature. A hardened survivor like him knew damn well that one second of losing yourself into your memories, one short moment of tapping into your emotions could lead to a shiv lodged inside your throat with your own blood leaking on the floor. Life and death, both tied by the same thread to a sheer moment of humanity.

Why he helped out a woman who was bound to die sooner rather than later, while risking everything that he stood for and swore by, had been the most recent piece - albeit the most interesting one - to add to the puzzle.

It had been the one question he had been asking to himself for the past days, although his other, much smaller companion might have been wondering about it even more than he was, judging by the constant looks thrown at their newcomer’s way accompanied by the colorful curses that hung from her mouth every time you would stumble slightly.

The fourteen year-old, regardless of her impressive maturity despite her young age, had been the one not taking so lightly to the old man’s methods of spilling blood to get through to begin with. He had been a much better observer than his companions would often give him credit for - he would see the occasional wince running through her features every time he would stab a shiv into a neck, the mutters of curses, groans at a hunter’s guts flying out of his ripped flesh. In a brutal world comprised of few moral lines, taking care of a little girl, his cargo, across the horrors had been no easy feat.

Maybe it had been the hollow in his stomach he chose to bury deep inside every time he would see the girl sadden, that made him carry a helpless woman. How she wanted to see him do some good in a world full of bad, so much that made him give a second chance to someone in desperation. Could have been that he wanted to have as much protection shielding Ellie as possible, to make up for those brief moments he had to take his eyes off of her to clear a safe path.

Maybe it had been the look in your piercing eyes that awaited the cold arms of death had it not been for him.

For the time being, the Texan just could not place a proper answer to that one question that has been burning in the back of his mind, no matter how many gazes he would throw your way.

Oh, those olive orbs were always on you as you advanced through the slight hills with a slight stumble to your gait. That stare bearing daggers was on you every time you stood too close to the girl for his own liking or every time your hand went to your revolver holstered on your good leg. It had been a hard decision to make, giving you the handgun. The man had only put in couple of bullets, stating it would be just for emergencies, his own hand moving to his gun whenever you would pull out yours out of sheer instinct. His trust would be the hardest trophy to earn on that scorched earth, and only a handful had gotten close to the final round - it did not look like you were reaching that level anytime soon with his rare words directed at you. Instead, those eyes would watch, intently, as the orange and red lights of the small fire shone against your skin during a night when you all camped in a meadow on the outskirts of the state.

It had been almost a couple of weeks since you had found yourself awakened in that molded room and mere days since your wounded leg let you travel on foot - granted they were only educated estimations. Time had not been a notion that interested you for the past years, only discerning the ends and starts of the days by watching the sun, reduced to only judging the months by the changing weather.

The infected did not keep the time, so why would you need to?

One thing you surely could tell about the time was that yours spent with these survivors you knew close to nothing about had been too much for your own liking. The escape out of state and onto the damned highway had been so close - your haste got the worst of you as you got tricked by the stray group of hunters on the outer perimeter, huddled up in the last quarantine checkpoint.

The bastard that sat couple feet away from you just had to find you and haul you out of your grave.

Your luck had to run out sooner or later, just like the others before you. Just like the ones you tortured and saved alike. The messed up fate of yours had to pull another stand, saving you from your demise a little earlier at the arms of this man sitting across from you, dragging you to protect the pair as they made their way to a safe zone. That was what you were reduced to out of so-called debt - a mere bodyguard for a little girl in the damned apocalypse out of all roles, an extra pair of eyes protecting the duo that you could probably do without.

When you expressed your thanks to the man, what you expected was for him to trade in some supplies, something that would feed the little girl and him and set you on your way. Never before did you pay off a good deed like this - how could you refuse and expect to live? Being indebted to strangers was not exactly one of the situations you wanted to get yourself into in this dog-eat-dog world. With every move you made, you had to feel the burning gaze of Joel on the back of your head, ready to unload some lead right in your skull with one single slip-up. Wondering when he would decide it was time you paid him off for saving you and killed you in your sleep for good. The sliver of trust that enabled you to catch a little shut-eye at nights came from the mere fact that the man was taking care of a kid in the damned apocalypse - children were always the biggest liability in the new order, and if he had the strenght to keep her alive for so long, that meant something.

It was a newfound feeling that you could not decipher correctly - something in you relished in the fact that you were with people and you were somewhat safe. It was clear as day if you did one fuck up, he would not hesitate to shoot your brains out, but nevertheless - you had company.

Only thing you knew about the father and his daughter was that they were capable. Capable enough to carry you to a safe house and tend to your wound. Capable enough to slit your throat once you have exceeded their uses. Grouping up with people you did not know the motives of was like playing some sort of roulette - someone got shot in the end, and you sure as hell was not looking for that person to be yours truly.

You did not know much about them, and they did not know anything about you in return - the way you liked to keep it. With your leg feeling a little bit better every passing day, you only could hope their destination was closer so you could get away and not owe a soul a damn thing.

The girl reached over to the small fire, warming her hands in the cold of the night as her father sat close to her, his eyes torn off of you for a moment as he looked around the landscape - a rare feat. Sitting on the grass with your bad leg extended, covered in the cargo pants you had changed into with your back against a tree trunk, you did not speak much. The trusted, a little rusty switchblade of yours was in between your nimble fingers, toying with the metal as your gaze focused on the moonlight it reflected.You would be damned if the stray infected around the meadows was not attracted to this, the cracks of the fire and the ramblings of the girl to Joel, talking about this joke book she had acquired somewhere.

“What is the leading cause of divorce in long-term marriages?”

Ellie, that was what her name was, you had overheard Joel call her. Had she been a handful - solely based on your couple days worth of observations as she would barely acknowledge your existence, you could not help but sometimes admire the father Joel was. The girl barely needed the protection from you, judging by the way she held onto the handgun while you traversed the state border, how she carefully avoided your close presence. She surely had learned all of those from his teachings. That, you could respect and to some extent, admire.

No one had been there to teach you how to hold onto your own but yourself.

“A stalemate.”

Overhearing the exchange, a small yet audible chuckle went past your lips, shaking your head in a breathy laugh.

“That’s terrible.”

Two pairs of green eyes with unknowns swimming in them landed on your frame, with you undoubtedly looking like a deranged woman scoffing to herself. Feeling the stares on you, your own eyes would rise yet the slight twitch on your lip did not falter. Joel’s face had been devoid of emotion as per usual, but you could swear you saw Ellie’s lip curl up in amusement ever so slightly, to which you could only shrug. If horrible jokes were the last and only choice of entertainment left around you, you would take it, regardless of who it came from.

As expected, the only non-hostile interaction you had with the girl that did not involve any taunts thrown your way had been cut short by a certain tall man standing up with a huff after dimming the fire a bit. Ellie followed his lead, leaning her back against the tree closest to him, no doubt getting ready for some shut-eye. The residual red and orange lights coupled with the ambient moonlight were what illuminated his bearded face as he gave you a short nod, his large hand reaching out towards you.

“I’ll take over in a couple hours. Watch us good.”

His instructions simple and concise, making you clench your jaw a little. Looking up at his brooding height, you would give a nod over his way, adjusting your body with a groan emitting out of your lips when you had moved your wounded leg, slipping the revolver out of the holster. Reaching up, your much smaller hands would place both your blade and handgun into his palm. With a low huff, he did not watch you suffer through your leftover pain, instead opting to make his way towards Ellie’s side. What you did not see was that he would usually stay up anoher hour or so, pretending to sleep, making sure you do not even attempt to do something stupid.

Left alone for the time being to contemplate the darkness under the sparkles of stars above, you sat down on the grass, senses on high alert as per habit. A little peace and quiet, some company albeit not the warmest, safety in numbers, helping each other survive were things that you could get used to in the long run.

It was only a matter of time till you could no longer run and someone recognized you.

#mercy #val writes #tlou #the last of us joel #tlou joel #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller deserves love

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cherrysung · 4 years

Text

mon amour

pairing: jisung x reader

genre: strangers to lovers au / fluff

warnings: mucho fluff

prompts: none

summary: a short walk to the convenience store paired with your clumsy feet gifted you the world’s biggest heart, and an answer to the question that had always haunted you.

not requested.

word count: 1.6k

note: this is my first scenario, I hope you enjoy it!

cherrysung’s navigation

Love is a very strong word, with many different meanings at that. One people use too much sometimes, and one people regret not having used. How do you know when you love someone? Do you mean it? Do people mean it? How do you even know when you mean it?

You often wondered as a kid what the word and action—love—meant.

Strangely enough, you weren’t thinking about love that one day your mom sent you out on your way to the convenience store in need of some eggs for your dinner. You also weren’t aware of how clumsy your feet generally are as you mindlessly walked back home, the sun that set behind the mountains providing you with a last bit of warmth before cool nighttime took over.

And so; your mind somewhere else, your feet struggling to find a nice pace, and the bag of eggs in your gentle grip dangling from side to side—you tripped.

Not surprising.

What was surprising, though, was the fact your body never hit the ground, but was rather caught by what felt like two strong, lean arms.

“Are you okay?” The person who was once nonexistent in your life, and then suddenly a stranger, asked with genuine concern. He looked young, almost your age, but his beauty was definitely something out of this world. His face was flawlessly highlighted by the last rays of golden sunshine, thin rimmed glasses resting on the bridge of his nose, and his white earplugs dangling by his ears after lightly taking them off.

Quickly pulling away from his grasp with tinted cheeks, you nodded, avoiding the stare that was calmly taking in your flustered expression with a hint of amusement.

“You... dropped this?” The boy smiled sheepishly, realizing the bag you were previously carrying, was full of eggs... that unfortunately cracked.

If anything now your face was completely red without a doubt, unable to deal even with the smallest amounts of embarrassment. “Don’t worry about it.” You managed to speak up. “I can buy more.” But your worries only increased as you noticed the sun had completely set, and your mind began filling with thoughts of your stressed, preoccupied mother that pondered over your lack of early arrival.

The freakishly tall boy smiled again, his narrow eyes creasing ever so slightly and his nose scrunching up in an attempt to push his glasses up. “Here,” your eyes watched as he raised his arm a tiny bit, noticing the bag of eggs that his hand, unlike yours, actually held tightly. “Don’t go to the store, it’s late already, which is not safe at all. Take these, I have more at home so it’s fine.”

Your mind was telling you to decline his offer. Yes, it was only a bag of eggs, but your mom always warned you to not talk to strangers, much less accept something from them. But, something in your heart told you to take them. He looked like a very kind boy—timid, but very nice. Also, why not? Your mom was going to beat you if you got home without them.

Reluctantly, your hand reached out, grabbing the bag of white and beige eggs before a smile etched its way onto your face, “what’s your name?”

“Park Jisung.” Your new acquaintance, or at least you hoped he was, answered as his lips mirrored your own, quickly throwing in a small folded, ripped paper into the bag held by your much smaller hands, unknowing to you. “I have to go, but I hope we can meet again.”

Your eyes watched as who used to be nonexistent in your life, then a stranger and now an acquaintance, calmly turned around and began making his way home. You panicked, wondering if you’d ever actually meet him again, “wait! My name is Y/N!”

Now you find yourself here, laying in bed, remembering how you met the boy who you once thought was only someone you randomly crossed paths with on the streets because he offered some of his help.

You didn’t know you’d get home that day only to be yelled at by your mother, or that you would find the ripped piece of paper Jisung smoothly dropped into the plastic bag when you weren’t looking. Much less did you ever think his phone number would be messily written down on it.

More so, you did not think you would actually text him.

As you stroke the sleeping boy’s hair next to you, you realize that’s one of the best spontaneous options you’ve decided to choose. A simple action brought so much joy into your dull life.

Little did you know so much would follow; little hangouts—whether it be at his house or yours, a couple parties and late reunions at shady diners. Your life became so colorful with Jisung in it, so interesting and so full of happiness, you didn’t even notice the day you caught feelings. Even Jisung himself didn’t notice when he caught feelings for you either.

After many hangouts, parties and late meetups at shady diners, same routine after same routine—followed little, cute study dates neither of you dared admit were really just dates, with the study excuse excluded. Eventually came your actual first official date arrived when Jisung finally found the courage within his system to ask you out.

By your fifth romantic occasion, followed your first kiss, a day engraved in your mind you will never forget and certainly one of the most special. Maybe it was the innocence of the moment and how you both were inexperienced with no idea on how it worked, or maybe it was the millions of butterflies that created chaos in the depths of your stomach as Jisung leaned down to press his lips to yours. He was intoxicating, the faint scent of strawberries and baby shampoo in his messy locks filling your entire senses as your lips molded against his slowly.

It was a very short and sweet kiss, with accidental teeth clashing initially due to your lack of experience. Even still with many small mistakes, it was full of trust and love and pureness that you wouldn’t change for anything else.

Yet again, you didn’t notice the day you fell in love, neither did he.

Realization eventually dawned upon you, when you started hearing in your ears how your heart thumped crazily against your chest every time your eyes landed on him no matter how many times you had already seen him before. How you felt like your world was complete if he was in it, and how you felt sad when he was sad, or happy when he was happy. Every single little thing he did was enough for you to burst out into excitement; but most importantly, his presence or voice alone could make your heart do so many consecutive leaps.

You came to the conclusion that it was indeed love, when anything that you did together took a special place in the secrecy of your fragile heart and emotions. Jisung could take you to a cheap restaurant, write down adorable letters instead of gifting you expensive jewelry or Valentine’s Day chocolates. The two of you could simply stay at home after ordering questionable takeout from the corner chicken shop while you watched cringey movies with awful scripts, the list could go on. In spite of any of those things who anybody would deem wrong, you love him. At the end of the day, you’ve saved and appreciated all of those memories sincerely; and still do, like now.

As your fingers kept running through his brown locks gently, you finally understood this was the meaning of love that you had been searching for all along. Love for you wasn’t what you heard in the movies or read in the books. Love, for you, is Jisung. Your love lives in him, he is your love.

A soft whine brought you out of your endless thoughts, your head turning to look at the very sleepy boy beside you as his eyes opened slowly to look up at you.

Your heart did a leap, as always. Even with a tired, swollen face, messy hair and an angry pout, Jisung still looked flawless in your eyes.

“Y/N, what are you doing awake at 4 in the morning, it’s so late?” Your boyfriend slurred, his eyes struggling to remain open.

You sent him a small smile, shifting on the soft mattress until your arms were carefully secured around his waist and his head rested happily on your rising chest with every breath you took.

“I was thinking about something called love. it used to be a mystery to me.”

His head turned to look up at you slightly, hair sticking in all directions and some covering his forehead, it was a sight you never wanted to forget. “Used to? Did you find your answer?” He asked, but spoke up once again with a playful glimmer in his honeyed eyes, “oh, I know. You love me.”

An unsurprised chuckle left your lips at your boyfriend’s cocky words, but you nodded your head anyways, “I don’t only love you, Jisung. You are quite literally the love of my life, I’m sure of it.”

“I don’t only love you either. You are also the meaning of love, to be frank, I am impossibly infatuated with you.” Jisung answered with blushing cheeks. “Love really is unpredictable and can come from nowhere, even from meeting a strange girl whose eggs cracked because she wasn’t aware of her ungraceful walking.”

You cracked a laugh, jokingly smacking his head softly. “Yes, and because of a boy who basically slid into my DM’s in real life.”

Gentle snores sounded throughout the room as they slowly left Jisung’s slightly parted lips, head still on your chest as your hand resumed with its massage on his scalp. You whispered quietly before closing your eyes.

“It was you all along. The one you love defines love.”

That’s how your journey on ‘what does love mean?’ came to a finish.

The answer was very obvious. It was your boyfriend, Park Jisung. Your love.

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lennydaisy · 4 years

Text

EPIPHANY SERIES // OUTER BANKS // CHAPTER FOUR.

(n.) a moment when you suddenly feel that you understand. or suddenly become conscious of something that is very important to you.

“Care to seize the day, my friend?”

Outer Banks Season 1- FEM OC! and ?

Warnings! This chapter does have mentions of violence and panic attacks.

Here’s the link to Chapter 3 in case you haven’t read it already <3 Check it out!!

The Outer Banks isn't exactly a big island. With a population of 50,000, what do you expect? Everybody knows everybody. Kooks know Kooks. Pogues know Pogues. And unfortunately, Kooks and Pogues know each other too.

They might have tried to divide the island, but they can't divide the people.

There are no secrets in the OBX and if there is, they get found out eventually. That's what tends to happen when you're at each other's throats constantly. Anything can happen, especially when someone's reputation is on the line. Also, when you live in a community where the only thing to do this work, fish, and then work some more, even the most unsuspecting people will begin to buzz with excitement at the chance of an interesting day. Even if what they're talking about isn't true at all.

I learned this first hand when my dad went missing. Anyone and everyone will jump at the chance to start rumours, wanting to be the first one to claim they know for a fact what happened. Shocker, but these people don't know shit.

"I heard he was abducted by aliens."

"No way. Did you not see his beard? He was obviously an addict."

"Maybe he followed the mom. With children like that, I'd jump at the chance to leave too."

"Maybe they did it."

It feels like history is repeating itself.

Irritation rips through my body as I tug off my shoes, hopping in an attempt to see the damage done to my heels. Grimacing at the blister that has found its home on the back of my ankle, blood spotting around the brim of my now white, stained socks.

Pushing forward through the streets of the cut, just wanting to get home, I keep my head ducked down, walking on the balls of my feet in hopes of dodging the small stones that litter the path. The summer sun now at its highest point in the sky, beating down on me overhead as it burns my scalp, leaving a painful tingle at the crown of my head.

It's the start of the sunny season. The best time of the year. Endless nights filled with drunken rushes and hearty emotions. You lose yourself in the blaze and are completely content with never finding your way out. Shopping cart races down the uneven streets. Dancing freely on the dim-lit porch. Getting attacked by an army of mosquitos. And watching the stars twinkle from the comfort of a scratchy hammock. That's summer.

Some residents of The Cut spend their summers fishing and having disorganised garden parties. Others still have the misfortune of having to work through this obnoxious heat and have to deal with even more obnoxious Kooks.

Believe it or not, it's not the teenagers that are the biggest hassle on the island. It the elderly. And we have plenty of them. During the winter they're like hermits, never leaving the comfort of their homes. Delivery services and the postman become their best friend for four months of the year.

When summer arrives it's game over, especially for those Touron families who just wanted to get away from the bustle of the in-country. Only to be welcomed by off-the-rails pensioners.

The cliché for Fireman is to save cats from trees, right? Not at the cut. A few summers ago I had to call the fire services to collect the 83-year-old lady who managed to get herself stuck in the tree just outside the Château.

It was a weird experience. All most cult-like. The old lady laughing her head off as a group of elders cheered her on. I did try to get her to come down, but I got told to 'live a little,' and got a shoe to the face courtesy of the lady in the tree.

Point proved. They're batshit. The tiniest bit of sun drives them insane after being hauled up inside for no one else's fault but their own. Someone should tell the poor dearies that winter in the Outer Banks isn't like the ice age.

That's why what I'm currently looking at is terrifying.

In a freshly mowed lawn, all seated in orderly rows beholds what appears to be the street's resident elderly. Perfectly placed garden tables covered with toppers, bottles of wine fully on display, even though they appear to be drinking out of teacups, and the mouth-watering smell of BBQ meat. It seems like the perfect way to spend the summer afternoon.

Diverting my confused gaze from surprisingly stable elderly, I pick up the pace, limping my way past the garden. Hoping that my grumbling belly doesn't sound as loud as I believe it too.

"Did you hear about Scooter Grubbs?"

"Oh yes. Poor soul. He didn't deserve to die, he was a good man."

"Good man!? If he's a good man then Peter here's a Godsend."

"Hey!"

"I caught him in a Grady White the other day, probably stole it."

Grady White?

"It's just a coincidence. It's just a coincidence. It's just a coincidence." I thought out loud, now practically run back to the Château. My brain working a mile a minute, the conversation that I heard playing on repeat.

'Scotter Grubbs.'

'Die.'

'Grady White.'

'It's just a coincidence!'

Slowing to a walk when I spot my house, lightly as possible I tiptoe down the dirt path, my feet hating me for every stone and stick that I seem to stand on. My hands swinging back and forward, the laces of my shoes slapping against my thighs as I voice my thoughts, "It just some freaky coincidence. Maybe I've been voodooed? Maybe I just heard wrong? Yeah! That's it, I should clean my ears, I'm hearing things wrong-"

My tangent of self-explanations ease to whispers as I catch sight of Pope, alone, at our small dock, appearing to be securing the 'HMS Pogue' from becoming adrift. About to call out to my friend, wanting to tell him about the crazy gossip that I heard on my walk home, but Pope sees me nearing the Château and makes a mad dash back into my house.

'It's just a coincidence?'

Brushing off the boy's odd action, I continue my walk to the front door, wanting nothing more than to just kick my aching feet up and chill.

"Deny, deny, deny."

Pushing open the sheer porch door, the room falls into an abrupt silence. Pope finding interest in his hands. JJ flicking his lighter. John B throwing an empty beer bottle from hand to hand. And Kiara finding interest in her shoes.

Not even standing in the house yet, the door still being held in my hand, I just gaze at my friends in amusement. Licking my dry lips, I toss my trashed shoe's beside the coach that is being occupied by Kie and Pope. Not even blinking an eye, I make my way over to the straw chair, next to the recliner that holds JJ.

The usually satisfying noise of the distressed straw under my weight echos around the room with an unsettling crunch. I wait. Picking my chipped nail posh off my nails, wincing as I place my feet on the small table in front of me.

I finally close my eyes, embracing the silence of the Château. The sound of distant crickets and the odd screaming of the gulls that roam the skies bring me to an oddly calm state. My body seems to sink into the surprisingly comfortable seat despite the uncomfortable looks that I can feel being sent my way.

"JJ stole a gun and money from Scotter Grubbs' motel room!"

There it is.

Pope finally cracking under the pressure of my laidbackness. Slowly opening my eye, I catch the glares been shot in Pope's direction. The boy has never been very good at keeping secrets, I don't know what they expected.

Turning to the blonde beside me, "You have a gun?" I ask warily. Not that I don't trust JJ, I just don't know how to feel about a firearm being in my house.

He doesn't answer me. No one did.

Placing my feet back on the ground with a painful wince, I look bored at my friends, "Is no one going to talk to me? You're going to keep me in the dark?"

I still get no answer, not even a look in my direction. The air suddenly becoming too heavy for my liking, I push myself up from my chair and make my way through the house. I can read the room and clearly whatever happened they don't want me to know so, that's that.

My room hasn't changed since I was four years old. My once pink curtains now faded with the constant sun shining against them. My lopsided wardrobe that is hanging onto its hinges for dear life, overflowing with the unnecessary amount of clothes I have. My oak bedside table stained with coffee cup rings and the head of my bed that is taken over by the herd of stuffed animals that I have accumulated over the years.

Everything in this room has a memory.

Like the glow in the dark stars that I stuck to the ceiling above my bed. JJ and I had a fun time that day. Bouncing on the bed in hopes of getting at least one to stick. From time to time the odd one will fall off and slap me in the face during my slumber, but that's expected when you're roof has been leaking since you were born.

Or the name that is carved onto the windowsill. That was a long time ago. It was a different time back then. I was a different Mason back then. Over the years I've tried to convince myself to cover it up, but I can never follow through. Despite how much I hate the way it stares at me in the dead of the night, they once used to be the reason the sun would always rise the next day.

The stuffy air seeming to follow me into my haven, I push open the window inviting the sound of the rustling trees and subtle waves in my room. Taped to the window is the many memories that I have captured in time.

There's me and John B on our third birthday, with obnoxious party hats with even more obnoxious tassels. Birthday badges that are bigger than our heads, and party horns in our mouths. Our eye sparkled with nothing but innocence back then. Those two had no idea what they'd grow to be. I hope they'd be proud if they saw.

There's one from the day I met Kie. My dad took it without us knowing, both of us to busy squealing and flailing away from the lobster we had just caught. It's not my best picture, my hair blowing in every direction as I wore wellingtons that were two sizes too big. I made a life long friend that day.

My favourite photo, against my better judgment, is one taken from the day of the boat race. My friend and I holding onto each like our lives depended on it. The sides of our faces smushed together with a laughable look of discomfort in our eyes at the idea of being forced to take a picture in front of the honourable boatmen.

I've never moved house. I was born in the Château and I'll probably die in the Château. My point is, I know this house inside out. Like, to get the hot water in the shower to have to tap the back of the showerhead three times. Or how if you want to sneak out and not get caught, there a loud floorboard right in front of the door. I never snuck out though so, I wouldn't know, I've just heard about it.

I know this place like the back of my hand, from every corner to every inch. And also every sound. When the all too familiar scream of the door breaks the beckon of silence I wished upon myself, I make my way to my bed. Getting comfy, my legs in a basket, my back pressed against the headboard as I stare out the window with my floppy elephant teddy placed in between my hands.

The patter of feet entre my room. My bed dipping with the newly added weight. The windowsill humming as it's used as a seat. The subtle strumming of my guitar. And the turning of my rusty, swirly, desk chair. They're all here.

I just frown my eyebrows at each of them, refusing to be the first one to talk. I don't know what happened, that's up to them to explain it to me.

"What do you know about Scooter Grubbs?" John B, being the first to speak up, asks.

"His uh- married to Mrs Grubbs?" I guess, but it has proven that I don't know how to read a room either, my joke falling short, "I've had to kick him out of Save-A-Lot a couple of times. He was creeping out Mrs Adams after she caught him shaking the charity boxes."

Letting my serious reply linger in the air, I ask the question that I need to know the answer to, "What happened to Scooter Grubbs?" What I heard couldn't be true, I had just seen him last week, perfectly healthy.

"His body was found in the marsh this morning," Kie whispers, her fingers still gently plucking the strings of my guitar as she refused to look anywhere else.

Shit.

"It was his boat we found this morning, wasn't it?" My words echoing through the silent room. Everyone minds seeming to be running with the news. What do we do?

"It just doesn't make sense. How does a marine rat get a Grady White?" John B throws the question that everyone is thinking out. It's true, Scooter Grubbs was never seen with more than $40 in his pocket and now he's cruising around with a boat cut out for a Kook. It's odd.

"Prostitution," Pope inhales sharply, not missing a beat to voice his opinion. I click my fingers nodding at the boy who is sitting comfortably beside me on the bed, "Or a sugar daddy?" I reason but then grimace at the thought of Grubbs being a sugar baby.

"Square groupers," John B states like its obvious. Turning to Pope who pretends to understand what John B is talking about, I nudge his shoulder, "I liked ours better."

"What does that mean? JJ?" My brother points at the blonde boy who has occupied himself with my jar of shells, inspecting them closely, "Straight smugglin'," he says, placing the jar back in its place, his attention now on the conversation.

"And I guarantee there's a serious amount of contraband in that wreck," John B promises. It makes sense. Who goes out for a boat ride during a hurricane? Someone who knows that there is no aerial surveillance and they could just fly right under the radar. It's a smart plan, but too smart for someone whose smugglin'.

"For the record," Pope starts, pulling out a wad of 100 bills that I can't help but gape at with large eyes. Scooter Grubbs had that kind of money but acted like he was homeless? Each to their own, I guess?

"If that is a smuggling ship, with illegal contraband on the inside of it... It probably belongs to someone else," Pope speaks the truth, waving the money around like its nothing to have this much cash in your hand.

'How much is there?' I thought. Deciding to find out, I snatch the wad from Pope's hand and begin to count it, "I'm glad you're here Pope," I muse, now at $2,000, "You guys have clearly never dealt with smugglers before. They're dirty pigs. Once they find out that..." finishing my counting, I place the notes on my bed, "$10,000 is missing there stash... Sorry to break it to you, but we'll be the prostitutes after that."

The four pairs of eyes on me causes me to shrink back slightly, "What?" I blink, "Did you guys forget about the Komodo Dragons? I can't get caught by smugglers, I'm probably already on a hit list."

"Minor details," Kie chips in, brushing off the hit list comment. "Taking it would be catastrophically stupid," Pope argues, siding with me, not being fond of the idea of being on a smuggler's radar with the way his body shakes at the thought.

"Right. Well, stupid things have good outcomes all the time," speaking of catastrophically stupid, JJ throws his pennies worth on the table, reaching forward for the cash, "All we need to do is figure out a way to get into the cargo hold of that wreck."

I can't believe we're even considering this. Stealing from a man who was just found dead not even a few hours ago. When did we stoop that low?

"Until then, we just lay low," JJ suggests, sitting comfortably against the windowpane with this dirty boats resting on the foot of my bed, "Just act normal."

Having enough of the discomfort, I shove his feet off my bed and look him straight in the eye, "As normal as we can with a gun, right?" I ask, referring to the firearm that is just casually hanging out his back pocket.

Nodding my head at the boy, "Promise me you'll use it responsibly?" Smiling tightly at JJ as I hold out my pinky. He just laughs out a breath, looking around for any help from the other three in the room. Each just giving him the eye, all agreeing with what I had asked.

I don't think he understands. He has a gun. A firearm. They're dangerous and it's not that I don't trust JJ, it just makes me uncomfortable and scared that one slip up with that thing and JJ's future could be uncertain. All our futures could be on the line if he doesn't handle it like an adult.

Locking his pinky with mine gently, he looks me dead in the eye, straight-faced, "I promise."

Satisfied with this, I nod my head, getting comfortable on my bed again, "Oh, and before I forget," I start, making sure every one of them is paying close attention to what I have to say, "Don't leave me in the dark again. Do not trust me?"

Jumping up at my question, "No. No, it's not that," John B, now sitting in front of me, quickly shooting down my assumptions, "It's just... we know you'd want us to do the right thing," he spills gently as the other three just nod at what the boy said, heads down in thought.

"At least we acknowledge that we're doing the wrong thing," I laugh lightly at the irony of the situation. It's true, I want us to do the right thing. I was hoping that they would report the wreck to the coast guard and we'd get a finder fee. Fair, it wouldn't have been as much as they found in that motel room, but it would have still been more than we had before.

At the word 'we' their eyes snap in my direction and I can't help the small smile that is creeping its way across my face, "Yes, I said we," I confirm, "I'm not letting you guys take all the glory for our downfall.

Little laughs being shared, seeming content with our resolve. Pope is the first to speak up, "So, what do we do?"

Exchanging glances with Kie, both having the same thought in mind, "Kegger!" we cheer with happiness. Sensing no objection against the idea, especially after the conversation we just had.

Besides, what's the worst that could happen?

The Boneyard. Misleading name because as far as I know there are no bones in the Boneyard. I think everyone on the island has heard about the boy who broke his jaw because he fell after attempting to climb the dead trees that litter the beach. It's similar to that story your teacher tells you about the boy who swung on his chair and split his head open.

Keggers at the Boneyard are a summer must. Something about an aluminium keg filled with cheap beer is very appealing when you're under the blazing sun and being swept away with the winds of the waves. Chugging away your worries as you dance with someone who you'll most likely never see again.

You can't fully understand the Outer Banks without understanding the Boneyard, its like a right of passage. If you're in, you're in, and if you're not, well, see you later.

It's like a three-layered burrito. There are me and my friends, the working class who put their blood, sweat, and tears into this island. There's the trust fund babies, the Kooks, who have never seen a hard days work in their life. Mostly likely just been dropped off in their stepdads range after a tough day at a 5-star boarding school.

Lastly, there are the Tourons. Or airheads, if we're being realistic. They come here for a week's vacation with their families and all of a sudden they claim that they want to spend the rest of their lives in the OBX. They're the chum for the sharks, fresh meat that everyone seems to throw themselves at.

"It's kinda weird when on T.V, we see people die, and they just sitting there," I overhear Pope attempting to flirt with a cute, blonde Touron, "but in actuality, they would be shitting and farting up a storm."

My nose begins to burn with the beer that just shot up it, as I hunch over myself coughing up a lung. The Touron boy who I was just casually talking too before, is now patting me on the back, asking if I'm okay, "I'm fine," I croak, my throat stinging as I swallow the rest of my beer.

"If you'll excuse me," I apologise to the boy, still cough as I speed walk over to my friend who fails to see the look of discomfort that is smeared across the girl's face.

Tapping Pope in the shoulder, interrupt his tangent about unrealistic standards of dying in movies, "Can I steal him for a minute, I'm so sorry," I excuse, as the girl nods her head rapidly, running at the chance to getting out of the conversation with Pope.

"What are you doing?" Pope whines, tugging free his arm from my grip that pulled him away from the blonde girl.

"No offence Pope, but we have to teach you how to flirt," I sympathise at the boy's failed attempt to impress the girl. "What's wrong with my flirting?"

Does he really want me to tell him why talking about people shitting after they die is not the best conversation starter? The boy looked genuinely looked confused, his doe eyes not seeing the picture. It's kinda cute.

"Absolutely nothing Pope," I pat him on the shoulder, not having the heart to tell him, so I won't, but I know someone who must definitely will, "Why don't you go talk to Kie about how great of an Aquarius she is?" I suggest, not giving him time to reply, pushing him in the direction of our friend, who too, just scared of a Touron. Fitting.

Empty cup in hand, I make my way over to the keg. Stepping over those lounging on the cold sand and bumping into those who drunkenly dance with their spirits high. Saying the odd 'Hey' and 'How's it going' here and there to the wasted teens that crowd the beach.

Standing patiently behind the person who is filling up their cup, I look around the beach spotting John B and JJ chugging their beers with a small circle cheering them on. I grin at the sight of JJ smashing his cup on the sand in victory, whilst Kie slaps him on the arm, probably ordering him to pick it up.

Turn back to the keg, I see the person just standing there, raising their cup to their mouth as they gaze out at the ocean. Clearing my throat, hoping they would move out the way, but they didn't. So, I try again. Nothing.

"Excuse me," I say, now standing beside the figure as I grab the streamer that they refuse to move from blocking. Looking up expectingly at the person, it doesn't surprise me in the slightest who it is. Shaking my head, I keep my attention on my cup.

"Good turn out," Topper comments, still not even glancing in my direction as he observes the beach.

Frowning, not understand why he is trying to even make conversation with me. I just shake my head, "Yeah," my voice laced with uncertainty, spinning around wanting to get away from the boy.

"Hey Mason," he calls out before I could leave, he attention now on me, "I want you to stay away from Sarah, alright?"

Tilting my head, not understanding why he's asking me this, "What?", but then it hit me, "Oh," I can't help but laugh. Toppers face twisting with irritation, jaw locked, as I try to compose myself after my drink spills on my hand.

"You don't have to worry Topper. I don't swing that way," still giggling as I reassure the boy that I don't want in on his 'territory', "Not fully anyway," I shrug, gulping my drink with raised eyebrows.

"I'm serious, Macy," he huffs, moving closer to me as I take a little step back halting his actions. About to question the boy's intentions, I spot the islands princess clad in a flowy summer dress, climbing onto the washed-up buoy.

"And I'm serious when I say you should probably get your girlfriend before she hurts herself," pointing him in the direction of the girl before waltzing past him, not wanting to be in his presence any longer than I need too.

"What did he want?" JJ asks, not even giving me the chance to sit down first, ahead of him spitting his distaste towards the Kook. "Nothing," I say, sliding in next to him on the dead tree, "Just Topper being Topper," my response being enough to ease his mind as he goes back to his beer.

The first Kegger of the summer was going smoothly. Everybody was having a good time, just drinking and getting to know each other. We had many beer chugging competitions, all of which triggered my acid reflux. We played limbo, which Pope surprisingly was an expert at. We even had a bootleg karaoke machine, where everyone had the pleasure of listening to me sing Céline Dion's 'My Heart Will Go On'.

The warm, long, summer day just as quickly turned to night. The shining sun saying 'Goodbye' as the full moon said 'Hello', illuminating us with its white light. People were calling it a night, exhausted after a day worth of drinking. The others, however, just seemed to come more alive. The magic of the moonlight fuelling their desires to dance all night long.

"Your hair," I giggle as JJ fills up three cups, his hair sticking out in every direction as the cold breeze blows his mane over his forehead, "What's wrong with my hair?"

The alcohol now running wildly through our bloodstream. JJ has had to practically hold me up after nearly falling at least five times in the last two minutes. I don't care. I was having fun with my friends. I'm letting loose. I deserve it. Not sure my dad would be too happy with the underage drinking, but I know he's glad that I'm having fun.

"Can you at least fix it for me?" JJ asks with the gleam of the moon reflecting in his dilated eyes. Nodding, I reach my free hand up, hesitantly, but gently, beginning to brush my fingers through his knotted hair. The blonde seeming to be closer than before, causing my hand to slow to a stop. I can't help but just take a moment to wonder, 'when did his eyes get so blue?'

My cheeks tinting pink at my thoughts. I blink away from his steady eyes that seemed to call for mine like a two magnets call for each other. Hoping he didn't feel the sudden change that I notice lingering in the cool air, I attempt to act normal as I erratically rub my fingers through his locks, making them messy again, before darting off laughing as I hear him call for me, "Get back here, May!"

Swaying, just like the liquids in my cup, I, not so steadily, making my way over to John B, who had found fascination in staring out at the tides. "Johnny B," I squeal, using his body as a shield from JJ.

The blonde had easily caught up to me, pulling me away from behind my brother, he tucks his arms under mine, spinning us around quickly. My legs flying around wildly as my beer splashes onto the sand, "JJ!" I beg, but can't help the rumble of giggles that pass my lips.

Stumbling as my feet are placed gently back on the sand, I watch as JJ snatches the half-empty cup from my hand, "What is in this?" he grins, pulling an unsure face as he takes a whiff of my drink, going to pass it to John B, "Hey bro, your sisters drinking this shit."

Missing my buzz, I try to grab the cup out of his hand. JJ just moves out of my staggering reach, his eyes seeming to be elsewhere, "Oh, wait. Hey, hey. Hey, Sarah!"

What is he doing?

I watch as JJ calls out to the Kook girl who was trying to walk past us, hand-in-hand with her boyfriend. The girl smiles slightly at the obviously drunk boy, "Hi," she greets and continues to walk away.

JJ is very persistent. It's one of his many traits. Now, when you mix his persistence with a bit of alcohol, you either end up agreeing to things you usually never would, courtesy of his constant need for adventure and thrill. Or he'll push too far, not knowing to stop when it comes to certain people.

"Sarah, can I interest you in a tasty Milwaukee beverage?" he pitches like a salesman, holding the cup like it's a rare and expensive delicacy. When in reality, it’s just a mix of vodka and sprite that some Touron mixed for me.

"No, thanks," she declines politely, not really for a conversation, noticing herself that the boy was drunk. 'That's probably why he was talking to her,' I reason.

Drunk JJ is unpredictable. It can go one of two ways; He's either extremely attached or extremely disattached. He'll either want to hold you or you have to hold him. It's either you crying or him. There is no in-between when it comes to JJ. He's either on one side of the scale or the other. Even when sober, his emotions still run high, but give him a little bit of happy juice and you've just signed up for a foggy night.

"Is it not fancy enough for you?" he asks, now slightly pushing it as John B subconsciously eggs him on with drunken chuckles. I can't help, but just watch, as Sarah reaches back her hand for Topper to take. The boy has just been standing with his chest puffed up at the fellow blonde who is addressing his girlfriend.

"Hey, you know what? I'll take it," Topper suggests, his voice sounding deeper as the stumbles slightly, placing a friendly hand on JJ's shoulder, "Thank you, man. I appreciate it," he slurs, trying to grab the cup from JJ's hand.

"That's nice of you, Topper, but I didn't ask you," he points out laughing, moving the drink from Toppers reach as he points at him accusingly, "If you said pretty please, maybe?" he pretends like such simple words would change his mind.

"Oh, pretty please?" Topper laughs along, his jaw clenching at the joke.

I can tell Topper is drunk. Topper's a weird drunk. Kinda like JJ, but also completely the opposite. When Topper drinks he gets angry at everything, thinking that everyone wants to pick a fight with him. I don't know if its a guy thing? but it's definitely a Topper thing. He can't handle alcohol, I've told him this before. His emotions won't allow him to just drink and that's it. He always has something to prove when he's drunk, and it frankly ticks me off.

"Sarah," JJ tries again, holding the drink out for the girl to take, "You can have it," completely ignoring her red-faced boyfriend. It’s no surprise that JJ is proud of himself, he struck a nerve in Topper. Pissing off Kooks is what he was born to do and frankly, he does it well.

I've never told JJ this, but Kooks are scared of him. It easy to see. Every fight JJ has had, I've always had to clean up the mess. He always jokes that 'you should see the other guy', but I don't have to. JJ can hold his own and is willing to throw it down anywhere if anyone disrespects him or the people he cares about. They're always unfair though, 4 on 1, 6 on 1, it doesn't matter, because JJ always wins in the end, despite coming out looking the worst sometimes.

Right now Topper is the perfect example of that. Having enough of JJ's persistence, he shoves the cup back making me gasp was the cold liquids splash over my shirt and sticks to my hair. That was enough for JJ. Clenching his fist tightly on the front of Topper shirt, lifting him off the ground slightly with clouded eyes and a set jaw.

John B, Sarah, and I were all watching the scene unfold between the two blondes, being quick to jump in when it gets physical. Placing a firm hand on JJ's shoulder I push him back with John B, who blocks his vision from Topper, who too, is being dragged away by Sarah.

"You're so funny, man" JJ shouts over to Topper. John B trying to calm him down, snapping him out of it.

The tide had made its way closer to land, meaning we're all in close quarters with each other, all seated at the same part of the beach. It was no surprise when the small inconvenience caught the eyes of the party-goers. Pope is one of them, as he quickly rushes over to his friends.

"Diry Pogues!" Topper insults, breaking free from Sarah's grip, just to spit in our faces. John B wastes no time, shoving him harshly away from us, earning more attention.

I didn't see it coming, and I assume neither did John B. Topper marches his way over to my brother, swinging his fist at his face.

Choking on the cold breeze, I go running for my brother who fell into the waves at the force. Pope being busy holding back the thrashing JJ, Kie quickly jumps in, wrapping her arms around me tightly from behind, stopping me from moving closer.

"We're supposed to be incognito, remember?" I think that plan went straight out the window when we decided to have a kegger and openly allowed our sworn enemies to join. There is nothing incognito about anything that is happening right now.

'Fight!'

I wriggle in Kie's arms as I helplessly watch Topper kick John B in the gut, pushing him into the ice-cold water again.

'Fight!'

The crowd around us seems to be getting bigger and bigger. My ears ringing at the excessive chanting.

'Fight!'

John B tumbles around the waves, trying to get up to his feet again, but Topper won't let him. Kicking him again whilst he's still down.

"Hey, John B, don't make me drown you like your old man, alright?"

'Fight!'

Call it blind rage or whatever the hell you want, but I cannot describe to you the way that Topper's words stopped my heart. It felt like I was stabbed. My constant thrashing caused Kie's arms to give in with tiredness.

Maniacally, my wild eyes search the mob as a preditor would their prey. I spot it, grasped between the fingers of a stranger. Pulling the bottle harshly from their hands, my breathing becoming erratic as I stumble my way down to the oceanfront. My sight set on my target.

"Mason!"

"No! Macy stop,"

"May!"

The calling of my name went in one ear and out the other. The only sound I could hear was the smashing of the bottle as it collided with Topper's head. The beach seemed to fall into silence. For a moment all I could hear was my blooding pumping through my veins. I can feel my heart in my throat.

I feel frozen in time. Unable to move as I watch the shards of glass dance under the yellow moonlight. The water rushing past my ankles. My feet sinking into the wet sand. My breath is uneven. The sharp bottle top that I was clutching tightly, slips through my fingers, getting washed away by the tide.

Topper, after a few seconds of blank staring, feels the crown of his head. Turning around, fingers stained red. His dead, black eyes piercing into mine, filled with unwavering bewilderment.

I want to blame the alcohol, or the cold, for the way my knees are chittering, but after seeing my brother get punched, I became stone-cold sober. I refuse to blink, not wanting to look away from the boy that is making his way slowly over to me.

My voice seems to be gone, holding my hands out pathetically, not wanting him to come any closer. My cheeks flushed red at the cold whipping winds. My eyes stinging with moisture as I wait for him to react.

The crashing of the waves and the chanting of the crowd become audible to my ears again. My face being pushed into someone's chest, pulling me away before John B could tackle a distracted Topper to the ground.

Fists smashing with flesh. Grunts, groans, and drunken cheers polluting the air. It was too much.

My lungs struggling to grasp a sliver of air, all in a state of panic. My ear pressed firmly against the person's chest, listening to the drumming of their heartbeat. My hands tucked tightly around the fabric of their shirt, just wanting to feel something.

My vision blurred as I watch Topper push my brothers face into the water, "He's drowning him," I swallow the lump in my throat, whispering in horror, watching my twin thrash around helplessly. It doesn't feel real.

A shiver dances it way up my spine, barely registering that it was JJ that was holding me before he passes my quivering figure over to an accepting Kie.

"Yeah, you know what that is," I hear JJ say, but I had enough for the night. Hiding my face in the crook of Kie's neck, forcing my eyes shut, not wanting to see anymore. But I didn't have to see it. I heard it. The gentle click of the safety seemed to echo across the silent beach, "Your move, broski."

'He's got a gun.'

The sound of pounding footsteps falls into rhythm with my erratic heartbeat. I could hear the blood rushing to my ears. My whole body feels like its on fire. My chest feels like it's going to explode. I can't breathe.

'Don't make me drown you like your old man.'

Something's wrong with me.

I can feel it welling up inside me.

It won't go away.

I didn't realise I was standing on my own again until my knees gave in. My head pounding on beat with the gunshots.

"John B!"

"May!"

Chapter Four: FIN!

A bit of a long chapeter, but I didn’t want to split it.

This was fun to write. Clearly Mason has some insecurities when it comes to being left out, or thinking that people don’t trust her. And this with be explored the further we go. There is a reason behind this fear.

I really struggled to write the fight scene, but I hope I got the general point across.

What did you think?

The next chapter will be the end of episode one. I feel like I’ve been writing for ages, but we still have another 9 episodes to go...

I hope you enjoyed that chapter <3

Also. if anyone would like to be tagged in future chapters just let me know and I will for sure do that!

*TAGLIST*

@xshinytrashcanx @prejudic3 @annoylinglyaries @obxlife @bananasfromtarget

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ainabaina · 4 years

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While I’m in an emotional mood - from BEING SO FOCUSED I COULDN’T SEE PROPERLY - HAVING MY HEART PLUMMET when SUNWOO FELL TO HIS DEATH, my heart RIPPED from all the high notes they were all spitting- Hui, Seonho etc (sorry I can’t remember my head’s like blank), to the sweat coming out excessively from my eyes during those interviews and THEN MY HAND HAD SOMEHOW BECOME ROGUE AND STARTED ACTING UP and IT’S ALL THE MC’s FAULT - ADD TO THE DRAMA WHY DON’T YOU?

But seeing these boys cry and perform their hearts out and on a programme that’s attentive to this, I’m really proud of them. I’m proud of all of them.

I haven’t watched passed The Boyz performance in episode 3 yet because I’m still waiting for my friend to watch it together so just a heads up why I won’t mention anything after that!

Golden Child - I was honestly so surprised to see they got eliminated and so fast too! But I hope everyone sends them love regardless. They’re absolutely excellent artists so please give them love. I first saw these guys on the Weekly Idol episode they did with Weki Meki and fell in love with Donghyun but could never pick him out anywhere else because he just blended so well with blue. Also TAG’s reaction was so cute. Like their performance told a story. It was so artistic. My bias is Donghyun and TAG. PLEASE GIVE GOLDEN CHILD LOVE. ALSO WANNABE is an amazing song, please check out and stream their music. When Jangjun was on the phone with The Boyz, oh my god, he’s so funny but man if he did that to me he’d probably get a hiding. Not gonna lie :D

TOO - Before RTK, I knew of them. I knew Magnolia but not enough to be familiar with the beat or lyrics. I knew Kyungho but only by face. The dance battle video too came frequently on my dash on Youtube and I regret not watching it sooner. The fact that they literally debuted in April just amazes me. Their Rising Sun performance was just so amazing, like I’ve watched it so many times. Also Donggeon, underrated vocalist, he’s become one of my favourites and literally just with that single performance, the power. TOO underrated everything. My biases (well at this point in time, I still need to get familiar with them) are Kyungho and Woongi.

ONEUS - I was so happy seeing these boys on RTK and I hoped they would be able to grow their fanbase and their skills in the way they deserve. These boys are absolute treasures and literally all are some of the sweetest boys I’ve ever seen. I was already a fan of ONEUS before RTK and they really did not disappoint. My bias in ONEUS is Ravn and that did not change, although I did have difficulty finding who my biaswrecker was because they kind of all have that title at the moment. I love their new song too. Like give me more please. Also when the concept movie thing came out, I just wouldn’t leave my seat for a good half hour because I just kept getting immersed in it.

VERIVERY - Now this is the group I probably feel the most apologetic (?) to because in comparison to other groups, I’m not too sure I can differentiate anyone and I know I could literally look up their names but it kind of feels more authentic (?) I guess this way. I know who Kangmin is and I thought we were the same age but nope he’s younger than me, way younger than I thought. I also really like their leader, Dongheon (I couldn’t help myself and looked up names and am just checking out their profile) and the way he organises his members and leads his members is absolutely amazing and diligent. Also - Hoyoung? Studied in New Zealand? AHH, wow it’s so weird hearing his accent cause like it’s also mine and I don’t know why it’s so strange to me. Fuck I want to find out what part of New Zealand he's from and I want them to perform here. Shit now I want to talk to him. Okay guys please send recommendations of what I should watch because I can’t let this group slip from my fingers when I have them in sight so-

Pentagon - AHH! Pentagon! I’m so fucking proud of them. They always hold themselves high throughout anything and they stay confident and everything no matter what happens. Seriously they’re boys that you could put all your trust, love and support in and know that it’s in a safe place and that with them it’s valued and I’m not saying that other groups aren’t like that, I just feel like it’s a thing with them. I mean, just look at Kino and that’s all the validation you need. But wow, their themes are absolutely amazing and Hui’s high note fucking killed me tonight. I knew who Pentagon were before RTK and stan them (kind of casually - I watch their videos and content often) But I have four biases in Pentagon and can’t choose between them and like there’s also another member that keeps snapping his fingers in front of my face and I’m tryna stay loyal. But I’ve got four possible biases, Jinho, YeoOne, Kino and Hui and there’s just a warm feeling with these guys. Like help, I can’t choose a bias from Pentagon to save my life and I’m kind of sad that Jinho has gone to serve military enlistment so soon but that just means he’ll be back sooner.

ONF - Wow, ONF. That amount of things I’ve heard about them like literally a couple of weeks/months before RTK has been outstandingly large and I always seemed to see them with ATEEZ often. But their performances are so hard to get over, it like captures you in the moment with an ecstatic amount of dimensions and it’s just all really thought out. They’re also hilarious. Like I had to rewind a lot of the time because I find this one particular bit so funny. Their reactions were what I lived for. I’ve also come to realise I have a massive crush on Wyatt. Like damn. But can’t wait to listen to their music more and to find out more about their members. Right now all I really know is Wyatt and I’d like to get to know more.

The Boyz - YAY! Congratulations my boys. So fucking proud of you you have no idea. Fucking freaked me out a lot (Sunwoo I’m looking at you you little sh*t) but I was in awe just watching you completely in your element. I used to be only a casual fan and knew most of the members but not all. I watched a couple of fan edits and liked a few pictures. I was so upset when Hwall left (and I hope he knows how proud of him I am as well). He was my bias and everything too so it was kind of a double hit. But 2020 must of been the year that I would eventually stan them stan them, stan them so much that they become top 3 on my personal kpop group bias list. Like I’m watching a lot of Youtube with them and their concepts and their ideas are so creative and open-minded. Like a concept is just a word to them and not a concrete ‘must do this’. But since becoming a stan, my love for Sunwoo grew again (I used to struggle between choosing between him and Hwall and also double biased them) and he’s actually my ideal type out of kpop idols. I also grew a love for Hyunjae and let me tell you, he fucking intimidates me and a massive part of that is because I have a crush on him. It’s just like-man. I remember first stanning them or trying to at least and like it feels like a faraway dream because it feels like it’s been forever supporting these boys and like they’ve become part of my heart and soul now. Like I love them so much and like world domination.

#road to kingdom #long post #golden child #oneus #onf #pentagon #the boyz #too #verivery

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need-a-fugue · 4 years

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We Grow Together (7)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OFC

Summary: Relationships can be tough, especially when one person is a recovering-from-being-brainwashed-and-tortured former assassin and the other is an overworked mutant scientist. But hey, every couple has their struggles. Right?

Warning(s): some angst, some emotional and mental turmoil… some bad language words… much fluff

Chapter Summary: After getting mind-fucked by by Ultron’s little friend, the team comes face to face with a secret that somehow Tessa had been privy to... And then they head out to go, you know, save the world.

“We could really use you,” he’d said. “I know how you feel about… fighting. But –”

“Steve,” she’d responded simply, throwing up a silencing hand. “Let’s go to find the crazy killer robot.”

What a mistake that was. It’s not like she turned out to be particularly useful. Just like the others, she got mind-fucked by that science experiment in a dress. In fact, she was the first to go down after making the mistake of thinking that she could take the girl out on her own. In her defense, she probably could have if the other freak hadn’t flown in at a million miles a minute and knocked her silly.

None of them were prepared. Not even a little bit.

And that… that… mind-fuck. What the fuck was that? Clint had called it mind control, but that didn’t quite seem to fit. They weren’t made to actually do anything. It’s not as though she had turned them into her puppets. They were just… mentally incapacitated.

It felt a lot like when Professor X would reach into her mind to help settle her – only this, of course, was anything but settling. But the feeling was the same, an odd sort of tickle at the back of her skull, a push and a pull deep in her center. What she saw… it was a dream, but it was also reality. A vision? Sure, that’s a better term, she supposed. But weren’t visions supposed to tell you something? Weren’t they supposed to warn you of something to come, or remind you of something you needed to remember? There was no portending… at least not for her. This vision just seemed to… hurt.

No one had said a word about what they experienced in their visions. Actually, most of them had said very few words at all since arriving at the safe house. And they all knew that it was only partially because an angry robot was hellbent on destroying the world.

“Hey,” pulls her out of her reverie and she turns to see Steve looming beside her. “Are you gonna eat?” She looks confused for a moment, but when he sits down next to her on the porch – Clint Barton’s porch, if you can believe that – she notices that he has a plate of sandwiches in his hand. He extends the platter out to her, and she shakes her head no.

“Get all that wood chopped?” she asks him with a put on grin.

He shrugs. “Most of it.”

“Can you believe this is all Clint’s?” she mutters, staring out into the open space in front of them. The sun was just beginning to set, the sky taking on a full array of pastel colors as it butted up against the trees in the distance.

“You knew about this, didn’t you?”

She turns and sees him looking at her with a knowing smirk. “I knew he had a family. I never knew where.”

Steve nods his head. “You didn’t really seem too surprised when we got here. And Laura, she acted like she knew you.”

She pulls her hair over her shoulder and begins picking at the edges of the long, thick braid. “We met once. Had dinner in Rome.”

“Rome?”

“A second honeymoon,” she says with a smile. “Laura always wanted to go.” She lets out a long sigh. “I was in Milan. Clint set me up with a contract position with someone who worked in SHIELD’s biomedical department. He said he wanted me to meet her. Laura, that is.” She looks at him, squinting a bit at the setting sun behind him. “She’s great, right?”

His lips quirk into a smile and he nods. Then they both turn to silently stare off into the distance. “Why did he tell you?” he asks after a few minutes.

“When we were in Minsk… he saw what I could do.” She drops her head to frown down at her hands, begins pulling at her fingers, bending and working them in an uncomfortable way. “I begged him not to tell anyone. But I figured he would. SHIELD had starting keeping tabs on me as soon as I went into the system. Monitoring potential threats, they called it. Me, my family, my friends and classmates. All of us who were… different. We were all potential threats.” She pulls her fingers apart and actually sits on her hands, knowing it’s the only way to keep from messing with them. “Anyway, Clint pulled me aside and showed me a picture of his family… his wife and kids. And he said, We all have secrets, Doc.”

Steve looks at her assessingly. “And you never told his.”

“Of course not.”

“And he never told yours.”

She shrugs. “You think SHIELD would’ve trusted a mutant to do any kind of work for them? Think they would’ve asked one to treat Captain America?” she asks with a twinkle in her eye.

“But,” Steve starts, suddenly confused. “Fury knows. He didn’t know then?”

She shakes her head. “It wasn’t until he asked me to come in to help you that they actually did a complete check – fingerprints, facial recognition, all that. That’s when Nat found out too. Fury told her to keep an eye on me. When she told Clint, well, he almost blew a gasket. Told me that they knew. Told Fury that I was cool, I guess. Told Nat that he trusted me…” She sighs. “He felt bad… terrible. He was the one who recommended me to Fury.”

“Clint was?” he asks, surprised.

She turns to him with a crooked smile. “Yeah. You didn’t know that?” He shakes his head. “He knew I was interested in the effects of the serum – from a strictly research-oriented perspective, not, you know, to replicate or anything.”

Steve laughs lightly. “Yeah, I know.”

She looks off into the distance again, watches as the sky grows darker by the minute. “He told Fury that he trusted me. He thought that’d be enough. That’s what he said… when he apologized.” A small chuckle escapes her. “He looked so guilty. And Natasha… I remember her saying something like, I don’t care if you turn out to be a shapeshifting polar bear. If Clint says you’re good, you’re good.”

“A polar bear?”

“Something like that,” she says with an amused grin.

“And you said they weren’t your friends,” he teases, bumping her with his shoulder.

She gives him a small smile. “Yeah, well… I still don’t trust Fury,” she says, tossing a glare over her shoulder and towards the farmhouse that the former director himself walked into less than an hour ago.

“Few people do,” he counters. “Come on,” he says, rising with a groan. “Let’s go hear what the old man has to say.”

She slowly rises to follow, wobbling when she gets to her feet. “Are you allowed to call people old?” she asks, leaning her hip against the porch railing for balance.

He reaches down and grabs a sandwich off the plate he’d been holding. “Eat,” he orders as he hands her the sandwich and opens the screen door. “And technically, the man you’re dating is four months older than me, so maybe you shouldn’t age shame.”

Three hours later and she can honestly say that she regrets eating that sandwich. Or maybe it was the two that followed. No one understands needing energy to function better than her – well, maybe understand isn’t the right word, as there’s so much about her odd mutation that truly perplexes her. But as a doctor, at the least, she gets that you need to eat to survive. But if the jet hits one more air pocket, she’s going to hurl into her lap. “And Tony just had this suit cleaned,” she murmurs to herself, rubbing lines into the leathery fabric on her thighs.

“What?” Bucky asks from across the aisle.

She looks up and sees him staring at her with a furrowed brow. He’s been tense since Africa. Well, they’ve all been tense. But his shoulders have yet to relax, and on his face lay a seemingly permanent frown. “Nothing,” she replies, shaking her head and dropping her gaze down. She takes a deep, steadying breath in through her nostrils, closes her eyes, and tries to think of anything other than the way her stomach feels. “I might throw up.”

He moves seats so that he’s next to her, runs his right hand in soothing circles along her back as she rests her elbows on her knees. “Probably shouldn’t have gotten so drunk the other night,” he mutters.

Was that only two days ago? “Probably not.”

“And you haven’t slept since then.”

“No one has.”

“And I bet almost everyone here feels like they might puke too.” She turns to look at him and he offers a small, reassuring smile. His hand snakes up to the base of her neck and she leans back into his touch as he gently kneads the muscles there.

“I can’t believe we just let Helen go back to Seoul,” she breathes out.

“We were supposed to know what was going to happen?”

“No.” She pauses, twisting her head to roll out the muscles he’s massaging. “But she’s not like us, you know? She hasn’t been through things like this before.”

“Things like the end of the world?”

She snorts out a laugh. “Yeah, things like the end of the world. Or killer robots. Or alien attacks. Or Hydra, or SHIELD, or anti-human mutant conspiracies. Or anti-mutant human conspiracies.”

“Those last two are new to me too,” he says with a grin.

She twists in her seat so that she can face him. “Did you see her face on Sunday morning? Before she left to go back home? She was terrified. Traumatized.” She shakes her head a bit, still maintaining eye contact with him. “He’s coming for her. For the cradle.”

“When you say she’s not like us, you mean she’s just a person, right?” His hand drops from the back of her neck onto her shoulder. “She’s what? Normal?” Tessa doesn’t answer, she just drops her gaze as if in thought. He moves his fingers to her temple and plays with the loose curls that sprung up after escaping her tight braid. “She’s smart,” he tells her, voice deep and firm. “She might not have powers, but that doesn’t mean she can’t handle whatever it is that comes her way.”

She shrugs. “Maybe.”

He watches her closely, sees her forehead wrinkle, her brows scrunch together. “You gonna tell me what else is going on up here?” he asks with a small tap on her temple. She looks up, her eyes lost in confusion. “What are you thinking about?”

She twists around and then leans back into him. His right arm drapes around her and she takes his hand in hers and begins playing with his fingers. “It’s the thing Bruce said… about Ultron. He wants us to evolve.”

“Yeah?”

She scoots further back and he instinctively wraps his other arm around her, holding her close. She can feel his chin on her shoulder, his breath in her hair as she says, “We have evolved. Some of us.” She stares down at Bucky’s fingers, rubs firm lines into the calloused skin. “I think he’s right. It’s right.” She shakes her head. “Does that make me an asshole?”

His chest rumbles with a soft chuckle. “No, I don’t think it makes you an asshole.”

“To be clear, I do not agree with his methods.”

He laughs a bit more. “That’s good.”

She lets out a long sigh. “People… humanity… everyone’s so afraid of change, of what bad things it might bring. They forget about the good. Instead of embracing the possibility of something better, they shun what’s different, cling to what they know.”

“Fear is a powerful motivator.”

“And everyone’s more afraid than ever. Especially since New York, since the invasion. Even Hydra and SHIELD… fear. That’s what Project Insight was really about.” She feels him tense at the mention of the project. “How much worse is that going to be now?”

He lets out a tight breath and nuzzles her hair. “I don’t know, baby,” he whispers to her.

“It’s true, though,” she says, folding his fingers into a fist. “He’s right. If we don’t evolve, we die.”

#bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x oc #bucky barnes fanfic #marvel fanfic #marvelau #avengers fanfiction #avengersau #xmen fanfiction #Supernova #bucky imagine

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ohwereusingourmadeupnames · 4 years

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"Sunday mornings make me nervous"

do the thing - send a number and i’ll write a little ficlet

I had a good time with this one - thanks for the prompt, nonnie!

warnings: minor character death, pain, angst, canon divergence, hurt!tony

Nothing good ever happened on Sunday’s – Peter felt more than sure about that. In all of the craziness of his life, Sunday seemed to be the day when all the shit hit the fan, when the worst of the worst came out to play. If he could obliterate the day from the week, he would – the calendar without Sunday had to cut down on some of the terrible things that continued to happen in his life.

His parent’s car accident happened on a Sunday – the early morning still something that Peter can remember vividly. He clung to his mother’s leg the night before, Peter was still at the age where not having her around felt like torture – the only relief coming when he got to be back in her presence. Aunt May pulled him back and tucked him into her chest, soft lips pressing against his forehead. “They’ll be back, Petey,” she said to him, her words sounding so true, so believable. It took another minute or two for him to calm down and let them walk out the door.

They laid them to rest exactly a week later – that Sunday morning rainy, the skies a dark grey and battling between letting the sun come out to play and subsiding to the storms that were gathering. It seemed appropriate – even at 6, Peter understood that this was only the beginning, that life was long and hard; there’d always be a battle waging.

It sucked having to learn that so early – but in a way, it hardened him a little, made the soft-looking world sharp and crisp like it actually was. He wondered how the rest of the population managed, how those rose-tinted glasses didn’t fall to the floor and reveal all. From that point on, he came to expect bad things.

Which – in his case, turned out to be a good thing. The day that Ben died, Peter was coming back from a Saturday night sleep over at Ned’s. It took them late into the night to get the Diablo stage complete and he was tired. When he walked in to find May and Ben completely done up for Sunday brunch, Peter shook them off – his eyes already heavy from the lack of sleep.

His cell phone ringing not even two hours later woke him up – a feeling of dread sweeping over him with each successive chirp of the phone. May’s broken voice on the other end of the line shook him to the core – the Sunday morning curse.

Making his way down to the hospital to watch Ben die in May’s arms was not how he expected the day to go – the break down that followed bled late into the evening. And when he resurfaced, Peter got his shit together and stood by May’s side. They laid him to rest a week later – the weather this time beautiful, the exact way Ben would have wanted it.

Superpowers and becoming an Avenger came next and for a while, it seemed like things were going to be okay. Sure, sleepless nights and bruises were a commonality – but so were patrols and missions with Iron Man and Captain America. Every battle scar he collected only made Peter stronger – for the first time in his life, he felt like there wasn’t a black cloud over his head

Then, Thanos happened. It didn’t take a genius to realize that things turned to shit on a Sunday morning – the subtle snap of fingers tearing the entire world apart, not just Peter’s. He doesn’t remember much about the dusting – he was in Tony’s arms and then all of the sudden, he wasn’t. The look on Tony’s face when they managed to reunite told him the journey to get to that moment in time was long and hard – the Sunday curse multiplied by a thousand.

When Tony slumped against the rock with all of the infinity stones powers absorbing into the Iron Man suit, the early morning sun was rising – the sky was filled with purples and pinks, the orange right before the sun came up really juxtaposing the scene. They’d done it, the world was just a little safer now that everything was set right. But – everything wasn’t set right. As he kneeled down in front of Tony, he felt his heart shatter.

In the time between coming back and that very moment, he and Tony grew so very close – like maybe Tony worked so hard to bring Peter back for reasons they hadn’t had a chance to get around to talking about. There were shared glances and touches – intimate quiet in the labs and in the seconds when they could sneak one or two alone together. Nothing happened – of course it didn’t, there wasn’t time for that. Tony carried the world on his back and Peter needed to do whatever he could to help with that.

His hand trembled when Tony slumped into it, his eyes sliding shut slowly. He looked around wildly, the rest of the crew standing behind, looking on with sad eyes. “We have to help him – someone, please!” Peter exclaimed, his arms already working to pick the man up, the lifelessness within him frightening – Tony Stark shouldn’t feel like a rag doll in his arms.

The improbability of Dr. Cho keeping Tony alive pushed the doctor harder than ever before – with every passing day, Peter could see more of a hopeful glint in her eyes. They stabilized Tony after a couple of days of uncertainty – and he’d been in a coma ever since. All of the others came and went throughout the day, but not Peter – no, he stayed by Tony’s side day and night, talking to him, holding his hand – hoping with everything within him that this, someone so special, didn’t get taken away from him, too.

A weird sort of feeling settled over him when Tony’s eyes blinked up at him at 1AM on a Sunday morning. It’d been a solid five weeks of worrying, helping Dr. Cho whenever he could, and holding Tony’s slowly diminishing hand in his own. Time’s passage took a toll on Tony’s body, he was thin, the hair on his face course and thick – but he was alive, and that’s all that really mattered.

After waking up and finding out about how much time and care Peter put into being there for Tony and keeping the faith alive, it was pretty easy for the two of them to transition into something a little more permanent – something that could grow and build between them.

Tony and Peter met the rest of the Avenger’s out in front of the hospital, the entire group of them finally looking whole now that Tony was back. They all knew he’d never be able to be the action hero that saved the world again – his entire right side was riddled with scars and nerve damage, the tissue littered with the remnants of the infinity stones powers in the form of long black streaks. Never mind the fact that he was frail and weak looking – Peter missed it the first time around but understood how much Tony’s body had already been through.

They only wanted Tony Stark back, anyway – Iron Man be damned.

Getting Tony home and into a routine that didn’t make them want to throw the other out the window took a little while – Tony was healing, and Peter still felt so drained from everything. They slowly found a way to make it work, though – Peter loved Tony enough to understand and did what he could to keep both of their nightmares at bay. The job was a lot harder than he thought, though – there were so many things they both carried, so many demons that chased them through the night.

Peter woke up from a particularly bad nightmare after a long Saturday night of soothing an aching Tony – the man finally falling to sleep a little before midnight after an entire evening of muscle aches and tremors. When sleep finally overtook Peter a couple hours later, he dreamed of losing Tony, of darkness overcoming him – the man just out of Peter’s reach. It wasn’t new, either. Most nights Tony struggled, Peter’s subconscious played around with his weaknesses and vulnerabilities.

Despite so much loss in his life, losing Tony still ranked number one. His worst fear. His ultimate downfall.

After gasping awake in a cold sweat and making sure the man was still snuggled into the mattress next to him, Peter got up out of bed, his limbs still shaking from the aftershock. There’d be no sleep for the rest of the night – there never was after that dream. Without making too much noise, he crept out of the room and wandered down the long dark hall into the tower’s living room. Maybe the Switch would take his mind off of the thoughts still lingering in the back of his mind.

He never managed to even turn the thing on – Peter fell into the cushions and let everything wash over him, instead. The pull of his emotions too great.

It didn’t register that tears were streaming down his face until the collar of his shirt was soaked through – he couldn’t be sure about the amount of time that past, either. The sound of footsteps had him sniffling, the sleeves of his shirt becoming the perfect tissue.

“Tony, what are you doing up?” Peter asked, his voice still tear heavy and thick, like he hadn’t used it in a while. There was no disguising the red streaks on his face or the puffiness of his eyes – but he tried anyway, a half smile sliding across his lips in an attempt.

Tony didn’t try to move any closer to him for a few minutes, the older man leaning heavily against the wall. His left hand moved to scratch at the longer hair on his chin, Tony’s eyes never leaving Pete’s. “I felt the bed move when you got up. I thought maybe you were gonna head to the lab – but I heard whimpers and decided to come out to investigate. What’s the matter, baby?”

A part of him wanted to laugh, there were so many things wrong – so many parts of him that didn’t feel real, or right – so many fears were swimming within him, superpowers be damned. The one good thing he could claim stood in front of him calling him baby, those amber eyes looking at him so sincerely. Sighing, he got up and walked until he was standing right in front of Tony, his shoulder leaning against the wall in the same fashion as the other.

“Sunday mornings make me nervous,” he whispered, his free shoulder shrugging, trying for nonchalance. “I had a bad dream and just – I guess I was still stuck in it a bit.” When he finished speaking, he took a step closer and pulled Tony into his arms, Peter especially careful with the still healing right side of the man’s body. “I didn’t mean to wake you up.” Lips pressed against the shell of Tony’s ear and lingered, both men content to be in this familiar embrace.

“It’s okay. I missed you,” Tony mumbled back, his body sagging into Peter’s, the fatigue from earlier so very evident. “Stay next time – I’ll help make it better.”

Peter didn’t understand how much he needed to hear that until the words sounded in his ears. Eyes wide, he pulled back just enough to lock gazes with Tony, the softness in the other’s glance making the sincerity evident. Nodding, he enjoyed the weight and sureness of Tony in his arms for a couple minutes longer, the earlier anxiety seeping away bit by bit.

Tony leaned up and pressed a sleepy kiss to Peter’s lips, his hand lingering on his cheek.

“Come back to bed.”

#starker #peter parker/tony stark #tony stark/peter parker #tony stark x peter parker #peter parker x tony stark #ironspider #spider-man #iron man #ask prompts #sunday mornings make me nervous #canon divergence

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