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spookysanta · 3 years

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The TA - two. (h.c., c.e.)

Summary: everything about this situation is...weird.

Pairings: Professor!Chris Evans x Black!Reader, student!Henry Cavill x Black!Reader

WARNINGS: none

here’s part two! she’s a bit lengthy, fyi. enjoy! :)

UNEDITED

After a couple of days, she’d gotten used to the formality that is Professor Chris Evans (and company). She’d gotten used to the emails that open with, “I hope this message finds you well”, even though it rarely did.

So thanks, Chris, for the well-wishes but no thank you.

The first day of Fall classes was stressful, to say the least. She woke up later than she intended for her 8 a.m. class, then she got lost on her trip from one lecture hall to another, and by the time she had to get to Franklin for Chris’ class, she was practically running across campus. She burst into the lecture hall two minutes before class was set to begin. Walking to the main podium where Chris stood preparing for that day’s lecture, she breathed out, “Sorry I’m late.”

He turned to her with a smirk. “You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine. Just a bit of a rough day is all.” She waved him off, completely ignoring the loud slam of the lecture hall’s doors. A figure emerged next to her holding a tray of coffees from The Bistro.

“Good morning!” Henry greeted, clearly having a better day than she was. He offered Chris a cup, then set the tray down on the desk that sat adjacent to the presenter’s podium, taking the other two and offering one to her. She thanked him quietly. “You ready?” he asked Chris.

Chris laughed. And for the first time, she laughed along with him. And seeing it firsthand, she could tell they had a good relationship by the way they interacted. She could tell that Chris genuinely enjoys Henry’s company as his TA, and not just for the things that he does to be helpful—they have a good thing. “Yeah, I’m ready—I’m excited. Thank you for the coffee, by the way.”

“No problem. It was on my way here.”

She felt out of place as they engaged in banter.

She looked around the steadily filling classroom and saw students from all walks of life; she’ll admit, that’s one of the only perks of college in her mind—there was always someone for everyone. There are all kinds of people from different races, religions, creeds—all gathering to pursue higher education. In that respect, she found college to be interesting. But in any other regard, she hated it.

Henry took note of her silence, “Are you excited, (Y/N)?”

She turned to him sharply, not having anticipated him addressing her so suddenly. She nodded curtly, “Yep.”

“You don’t sound like it.” Chris retorted as he set up his laptop to broadcast a slideshow on the projector screens that took up nearly all of the space on the wall behind them. “C’mon, this is going to be fun!”

She offered them a dry chuckle as she watched the screens illuminate with a bright white background and black lettering that read:

WELCOME TO CHEMISTRY 120, SECTION D346-0

PROFESSOR CHRIS EVANS, D. SC.

HENRY CAVILL AND (Y/N) (Y/L/N), GRADUATE AND UNDERGRADUATE TAs

Yeah, that’s totally not intimidating. “Ooh,” Henry nudged her with his elbow, “look at that—you’re official.” He turned to her, pointing an index finger at the screens. “Listen, this is going to be no big deal.”

“You sound like him.” She pointed to Chris, who was hooking up a small microphone that he would connect to his shirt.

“Well I mean it. You’ll be fine. The most we’re going to have to do is pass out papers and introduce ourselves—easy peasy.”

She hummed in understanding. “Mhm.” She took a big gulp from her coffee cup, its liquid now only warm from Henry’s commute. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Henry shrugged, “I’ll hold you to that.”

“Good morning, class.” Chris spoke into the microphone, his voice projecting through the speakers in the room. The chatter among students died down quickly. “I’m Professor Evans and welcome to Chemistry 120, section D346-0.” She noticed that he was like her—he fidgeted, too. His hands were behind his back, but she could see him fiddling with the remote that was in them. One hand was wrapped around his opposite wrist, and his free hand twirled the remote between his fingers.

“I’d like for my TAs to introduce themselves. They’ll be helping you a lot this semester.”

He took a handheld microphone from behind the podium and turned it on, handing it to Henry. “I’m Henry, I’m a graduate TA studying microbiology.” He stated with a muted wave. “I’ve been working with Professor Evans for about four semesters now, so I’ll be happy to answer any questions you may have.” He handed the microphone to her, his thumb brushing hers when she took it. Their eyes met briefly.

“Hi, I’m (Y/N). I’m an undergraduate student studying bio. This is my first semester as a TA for this class so I’m very excited to work with all of you.” There. That was easy enough. Henry looked to her with a small smile.

“Alright,” Chris spoke up after she handed him the microphone to be put away, “so I’ll be quick with the introductory stuff—I know no-one wants to hear me drone on about safety procedures for the next ninety minutes.” He gestured to a stack of papers that sat on the desk. “Could you pass those out?” he asked Henry and (Y/N) politely.

Henry nodded, effortlessly picking up the large stack of papers. He approached her and instructed in a whisper, “Take half.” She grabbed a substantial stack of papers, making her way across half of the lecture hall and handing students a sheet of paper going by rows, mimicking the movements that Henry made. They both made it to the middle; there they stood on a walkway that connected to the path that led to the front of the room. He followed behind her back to the podium as they awaited their next tasks.

“So, what you just got are information forms. We’re going to read them, go over the most important stuff, then at the end, you’ll sign them, and they’ll be collected.” Chris cleared his throat, beginning to read from the page, only really emphasizing the important aspects of the course.

She took a page off the stack, reading as he spoke.

COURSE POLICIES:

No food/drink/snacks in the lecture hall or lab (water in a clear container is allowed)

No electronics of any kind are allowed in the lab

Late work will not be accepted in any capacity

All paper assignments must be turned in at the end of each class to TAs

Online work must be submitted before deadline—pages will close after the assigned time

Attendance (especially on lab days) is mandatory

All absences are considered unexcused unless otherwise authorized with a note or confirmation e-mail

Now it’s all come full circle for her. She can clearly see why a lot of his previous students called him a hard ass. And majority of the policies he listed, she doesn’t even plan to uphold herself. So how could she expect three-hundred students—freshmen, at that—to comply?

The policies were reasonable, sure, but hard to enforce.

He made sure to emphasize the dress code, late work, and attendance policies; it was apparent that those were real issues among his classes over the years. “Additionally,” he continued after having spoken without stopping for twenty minutes, “this is the only introductory chemistry class I’m teaching this semester, which means everything you submit will be read and graded. There are no grades for completion or participation.”

She heard several students groan. She leaned to Henry, “Wait. He teaches other classes?” she whispered.

He nodded. “Yeah,” he whispered back, “He also teaches upper-level biology and organic chemistry, and he taught a statistics class last year but I’m not sure if he still does.”

Damn. No wonder he was so organized.

And she found that interesting; that definitely explained why he would have her and Henry do a lot of the grading for this class’ assignments. He probably didn’t have time to breathe in between classes, let alone grade three-hundred lab reports.

By the end of his class that seemed never-ending, she was absolutely exhausted. She was having daydreams of her cozy bed when Henry approached her after he finished collecting signed forms from his side of the classroom. “You alright?” Henry asked.

She stifled a yawn, “Yeah, I’m good.”

“Good class today, guys. I’m really excited for this semester.” Chris gushed, visibly happy with their help.

“Me, too.” Replied Henry. “I think this batch will be better than last semester’s.”

“Ugh. Don’t even get me started on last semester’s class.” He shook his head as he began to gather papers and his laptop into his bag. “I’ve never wanted to rip my hair out more than I did last semester.”

Henry laughed. “Trust me, I know.”

The two assistants prepared themselves to leave. Before they said their “goodbyes”, Chris asked them to meet with him in his office (as there was another class filing in).

“So,” Chris closed the door to his office, muffling the bustle of the room outside that was quickly filling up with the literature class that started right after theirs. “I wanted to know what you’ll be doing this weekend.”

“Um…” (Y/N) was confused. “Why?”

“Because I want to get a head start on grading these papers and entering everyone’s information into the database.” He pulled the stack of forms from his bag and clamped them together with a binder clip. “So, if you and Henry are free this weekend, that’d really help me out.”

“I’m not busy,” Henry shrugged. “I keep my weekends open anyway.”

She wasn’t busy either, but the weekend to work? This couldn’t wait until later?

“I’ll be free this weekend.” She kept her voice cheery but really regretted not lying when she had the chance.

“Great.” He clapped his hands together. “We’ll plan for a time for you to come over and we’ll knock it out in an hour or two.” Come over?

“Come over where?” she asked.

“Oh! My house.” Chris clarified, “When Henry and I had a lot of papers to grade, he usually comes over to my place early in the morning, we grade papers, and we go about our day. That’s not an issue for you, is it?”

“No, not at all.” It was a bit odd, though. But she’ll be honest in saying that she found all of this…odd in one way or another.

“Cool.” Henry looked at his watch. “I’ve got to get going, I don’t want to miss tonight’s game.”

Chris’ eyes widened in realization. “Dammit.” He swore, “I forgot there was a game on tonight.” He stood and grabbed his things, going around his desk to the door, and ushering us out of his office. He shut and locked the door behind them. They walked swiftly and quietly across the front of the classroom and out the door to converse in the hallway. “Alright, you guys. Have a great rest of your day, and don’t hesitate to call me if you need me.” He waved, then turned and left through the faculty doors.

Henry looked at her. “You ready?”

She nodded. “Yeah.” Together, they walked leisurely down the stairs and out of the lecture hall, through the hustle of the “afternoon class rush”.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked for what seemed like the thousandth time today. “You’re quiet.”

“Do you think…” she paused, wanting to pick the right words to say. “do you think it’s—I don’t know—odd that Chris wants us to meet at his house to grade papers?”

“What would make you think that?”

“I don’t know, it just seems weird to me.” Someone who was on their phone bumped into her causing her to drop the books she was carrying. “Shit.” She went to grab her book, but Henry picked it up for her. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He opened the doors to the lecture hall, where they looked outside and saw that it was pouring. “Wow, it’s really comin’ down out there.”

“Yeah, and I didn’t bring an umbrella.” She groaned out loud. “Fuck my life.”

Henry laughed at her misery, “You need a ride?”

“Your car’s fixed?”

“Yeah.” He fumbled in his pocket for his car keys. “I took it to the shop after our meeting. Obviously I had to call a tow truck before I could get it to the mechanic’s, but I got it there eventually. It’s doing great now in case you were wondering—it almost runs perfectly.”

“I wasn’t.” she gave him a thin-lipped smile. “Thanks for the information, though.”

“Whatever.” He scoffed playfully. “You want a ride or not?”

She really shouldn’t. This guy, as holy as he is in the eye of the Almighty Chris, could be a monster. He could be a serial killer. He could be plotting to attack her—she’d lost count of how many news stories she’s read about kidnappings on college campuses—and who knows, she could be on his list.

But then again, it was pouring outside, and the walk back to her apartment was long. The air was getting cooler and combined with the darkness of the sky and the time of day, she’d end up with the flu by the end of the afternoon.

“Fine.”

He took his jacket from his shoulders and handed it to her. “Here.”

“What am I supposed to do with this?”

“Put it on.”

“I don’t want it.”

“You need it more than me, okay? So put the jacket on.” He commanded.

She didn’t like that he didn’t ask nicely, but she did it anyway. And she wouldn’t tell him out loud, but goodness, his jacket smelled good. Like every kind of good smell that someone would want on a man combined with the smell of men’s shampoo in the hood, she was in heaven. She tried not to let it show but she made sure to take deep inhales through her nose as they journeyed to his car.

They exited the lecture hall, running down the slippery cobblestone sidewalk like the rest of the students in their avoidance of getting wet from the impending storm. He guided her to his car, opening the door for her, then climbed in the driver’s seat. “Whew,” he breathed, buckling his seatbelt. “that was interesting.”

His car was quite nice. She’d expected it to be really junky and out of shape—because of the godforsaken breakdown—but it was surprisingly clean and smelled good, too. Not in a cologne way, but in a “detailed car” way.

“Yeah, it was.” She replied, also trying to catch her breath from running, “You have a nice car.”

“Thank you. I was trying to tell you that earlier, but you didn’t want to believe me.”

“No, I didn’t.” she laughed. “You proved me wrong.”

He revved the engine. “So, where to?”

“Brookwood Heights.”

“Shut up.” He all but exclaimed, his eyes widening to the size of Mars. “I live there!”

Oh, that’s great.

“Really? That’s so cool.”

“Yeah, that’s so funny!” he pulled out of the parking lot, turning onto the busy street. “What a small world.”

They managed to get to their apartment complex without issue. He helped her get all her belongings out of the car, then grabbed his and locked his car before they went inside, the cool air of the complex’s lobby almost smacking them in the face. They trudged to the elevator, entering the small box and leaning against the guardrails in exhaustion. She pressed the 3 on the keypad. “What floor?”

Not looking up from his phone, he mumbled, “3.”

Are you kidding me?

“That’s my floor.”

His head snapped up. “So, we’re floormates, huh?” he smirked.

“I guess so.”

The elevator dinged and they stepped out. It seemed like they were deliberately walking slowly down the hall so that they could see where the other person would drop off, but they just kept walking side-by-side until they got to the very end of the hall. She stopped in front of her door. “Well, this is me.”

He stood at the door across the hall from hers and pointed at the number, “This is me.”

So, they’re neighbors.

They’re co-workers…and now they’re neighbors.

Because of course, life can’t get any more cliché than it already is.

“See you around?” he called to her once he unlocked his front door.

“Yeah, see you around.” She waved with a small smile, opening her front door and stepping into her abode.

Damn, she missed her apartment today. She tossed her keys in the bowl by the door and took off her wet shoes. Then she set her bag on the adjacent counter. She shuffled off her jacket—

Wait.

This wasn’t her jacket. She didn’t wear a jacket today. It was Henry’s jacket.

She wanted to yell. She didn’t feel like being social anymore today. She decided to set the jacket on the coat rack by the front door; that way she’ll be able to bring it to him in the morning. She went to her bedroom and stripped from her wet clothes, going into the restroom and starting a shower.

Finally.

The following days were surprisingly good. She didn’t gripe and moan about the weather—it was rainy every morning that week—Henry rapped on her front door at the same time and offered to drive her to Franklin Hall. Some days, she accepted, and they even stopped at The Bistro if they had the time. Some days she didn’t, and those were the days where Henry seemed more on edge, only to visibly settle when he saw her enter the classroom or laboratory.

Today was Saturday; today was the day that she had to meet at Chris’ house to grade the lab reports from Tuesday and Thursday’s classes.

She wasn’t particularly excited about it.

She had to get up early because Chris wanted to get started at nine a.m., which was ungodly early for a Saturday—or any day, really.

Three knocks sounded sharply on her front door, “You ready?” Henry’s voice bellowed through the wood.

She rushed, opening the front door. “Almost.” She shuffled on a hoodie over her t-shirt, stepping aside. “Come in.”

He entered wordlessly and sat on the first chair he saw, which just so happened to have his jacket laying across the back. “So, I’m assuming this is yours now?”

She looked at the item he was holding. “Shit!” she exclaimed. “I meant to give that back. I’m sorry.”

He chuckled at her demeanor, “It’s fine. It’s bad out today, so I don’t mind if you need it.”

“I should be fine, thank you,” she forced her feet into a pair of sneakers, fighting to get her index finger from between the shoe’s fabric and the heel of her foot. “plus, I don’t want to hog your stuff.”

“You’re not hogging anything. If you need it, wear it.”

“But it’s yours.” She threw on her backpack, grabbing her keys, phone and wallet from the bowl by the front door. “Take it.”

“No.” he laid it back in its original position on the chair. “Give it back once the storm passes, okay? I’m just looking out for you.”

She rolled her eyes, but it made her smile anyway, “Fine. Thank you.” She opened the front door and practically shoving him out of her apartment and down the hall.

“You’re welcome.”

She’s not sure what’s happening. She’s started to like Henry’s company. Her goal when everything started was to remain polite and formal, and now…she thinks of him as a friend—which was not her plan.

They rode in a comfortable silence to Chris’ house. He could tell she was stressed. “Are you okay?”

“I guess.” Her shoulders shrugged, the fabric of her hoodie rubbing against her seatbelt. “I still think going to Chris’ house to grade papers is weird.”

“Nah,” he retorted, “it’s really casual. He makes a pot of coffee, and he even made me breakfast once. It doesn’t usually take long either—in and out.”

“So, I have nothing to be worried about?” she asked, their eyes meeting when he stopped at a red light. “This isn’t a setup for the two of you murder me, right?”

“If I wanted to murder you, I’ve had ample opportunities before today to do so.”

As if that’s reassuring.

“Thanks for sparing my life, I guess.” She muttered.

“Seriously, though. Don’t worry. Everything will be fine. And if you get uncomfortable, I’ll say my apartment flooded and we’ll leave. Okay?”

She snorted, “Flooded?”

“Flooded. On fire. Intruder. My cat died. I’ll make something up.” He turned into a neighborhood of houses, pulling into a driveway behind a blue SUV, and shifting the car’s gear into “park”. “Say the word and we’ll leave, no questions asked.”

She nodded. She felt the slightest bit better about the situation. She didn’t really know if it was because he was so willing to drive her home, or if it was because he was so willing to drive her home just to keep her comfortable. Nonetheless, she appreciated it. “Okay.”

He reached behind him and pulled his shoulder bag from behind her seat. “And then, when we’re done, we can go to The Bistro and load up on cookies.”

“Their cookies are good…”

“Easily the best cookies I’ve had in a while. So, don’t do this because we’re required to, do this for the incentive of sugar.” He looked at her. “Lots and lots of sugar.”

They got out of his car with their bags and trudged up the driveway’s pavement, him following behind her to the front door. He emerged next to her and rang the doorbell.

Chris opened the door with a smile, “Hey.”

Not to mention, he wasn’t dressed like a professor at all. He was wearing grey sweatpants along with a cobalt blue zip-up jacket that was opened, showing off the white tank top he had on underneath.

And let’s not forget about the cross necklace—a minor addition, but still very important to the outfit.

“Good morning!” Henry cheered.

“Morning.” She greeted timidly.

Henry allowed her to step into the threshold of Chris’ home first. He entered, too, commenting, “Ooh. It smells good in here.”

“You caught me while I was making myself some pancakes—are you guys hungry?”

“I could eat.” Replied Henry as he plopped himself onto the couch in the front room, setting his bag on the coffee table before he sat down.

Chris looked to her, “Pancakes?” he asked simply with a point.

“Sure.” She shuffled off her backpack and sat next to Henry on the opposite end of the couch. “Let’s get this over with.” She muttered to herself. She unpacked her bag and set her laptop on the coffee table.

Not a few moments later, the two of them heard Chris shout from the kitchen, “Pancakes!”

Henry hopped up from his seat. He held out his hand in front of her, “C’mon.”

She took it and allowed him to pull her up…his hands were soft. Calloused at the knuckles, but soft, nonetheless. She almost hesitated to let go. But she did, regrettably. She followed him into the kitchen and took a plate from the stack on the counter next to the stove. Henry wasted no time in stacking his plate high with pancakes, scrambled eggs, and bacon, drowning everything in sticky maple syrup.

She, however, was a bundle of nerves, so she didn’t grab much—only two pancakes and two strips of bacon for herself. Henry balanced his plate, a handful of silverware, and a cup of coffee in his muscular arms and walked carefully back to the living room.

“You sure that’s all you want?” Chris asked, pointing to her plate as he poured the hot coffee from the carafe and into a large mug. “There’s plenty to go around.”

She shook her head politely, “I think I’m good for now.” She took a mug from the counter and held it out to him. “Could you pour me some, please?”

“Of course.” He poured the coffee into her mug a bit more than halfway. He offered her milk from the refrigerator, and she took it, pouring into her mug leisurely. He watched her and said almost in a mumble, “So…how are you liking things?”

“What things?” she replied.

“The position. The class itself—hell, your classes. How are you getting on?”

“Good, I suppose.” She shrugged. “I like the job a lot, and working with you guys. My classes are hard this semester—I don’t know what it is, but for some reason, Calculus seems so much more difficult than I remember.”

“Who do you have for that class?” he took a long sip from his mug, leaning his back comfortably against the countertop. “Mackie?”

“Yeah.” She nodded. “He assigns so much work, I can barely keep up. And his class is in Jackson Hall—on the other side of campus—so I basically have to run to his class in order to get there on time if Henry doesn’t drive me.”

“Henry drives you to class?”

Out of all she said, that’s what he clung to?

“Yeah, most days. Apparently, we’re neighbors in the same complex, and he has a class in Jackson at the same time as mine. I don’t have a car and he does, so it just made sense.”

Chris hummed. “Well, I’m good friends with Mackie; he and I were actually roommates in undergrad. So if you need me to, I can put in a word.”

“A word?” she repeated.

“Yeah. Your studies are important, but so is your job. So if you need to be excused from his class every now and again, or you need help catching up, I can help you.”

“Oh.” She pondered for a moment. She needed this job, yes, but not so much that she feels the need to fall behind on her schoolwork to keep Chris company. “Well, I think I’m fine for now, but thank you for the offer.”

“Sure. Anything to help.” He patted a hand on her shoulder, squeezing her flesh, then left the kitchen.

She sat back on the couch next to Henry and timidly ate her breakfast while he and Chris engaged in conversation about the upcoming events in the area.

We do shoulder rubs now? She asked in her brain. He seemed almost…flirty? And when I mentioned Henry driving me to class, he visibly almost tensed. What was that about?

“Yeah, I think it’s a great idea for the two of you to go.”

That’s when she started to pay attention. “Go to what?”

“There are student tutoring sessions in Hampton Hall for all undergraduate classes. Generally, I don’t make my students attend because there aren’t any undergraduate TAs in my class. But now, you’re here, so my class is on the roster.” Then, he muttered, “And Henry can take you.”

She nodded, taking her planner out of her bag. “When are they?”

“Thursdays at three. I’ve been told that they usually run about an hour, so it won’t take up all your afternoon. Then, you and Henry can do…whatever.”

Henry raised an eyebrow, eyes glancing to her, then back to Chris.

That was strange.

She didn’t question it. She was eager to finish grading her set of papers so that she could shove Henry out the door, get their cookies—that he suggested, and thus, will pay for—and head home to sleep the rest of her day away.

It took them a total of two hours to finish grading that week’s lab reports and put them into Chris’ online gradebook, and put the students’ information into a spreadsheet. After they cleared their trash and put their plates and silverware into the kitchen sink, she all but threw her belongings into her backpack. Henry put his bag over his shoulder, bushing a piece of hair behind his ear. “Well,” Henry began, taking his car keys from his front pocket and twirling the keychain around his index finger. “we should get going.”

“Sure. I don’t want to keep the two of you busy.” Chris replied as he ushered his two assistants to the front door, his tone not displaying any care for taking up the early part of their afternoon. “Have a great weekend, guys. See you Monday.”

They left and walked quietly side-by-side to Henry’s car. He backed out of the driveway and sped out of the neighborhood and down the street. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?” he asked her.

“I guess.”

“You guess?” he repeated, “What makes you unsure?”

She almost hesitated to mention it. But there was no logical way Henry didn’t pick up on Chris’ comments throughout their time there. “Chris was just acting weird, is all.”

“Define weird.”

“He kept saying things about you and me carpooling, and he even offered to excuse me from my Calc class with Mackie.” She suddenly found her fingers much more interesting to look at than the road in front of them. “And he touched my shoulder. He squeezed my shoulder, actually.”

“You think he was acting out of the ordinary…because he touched your shoulder?”

“No! Well, yes, but he seemed upset when I told him that you and I carpool, and that’s what caught me off guard.”

Henry shrugged. “Maybe he doesn’t think it’s professional.”

“If he didn’t think it was professional, he would’ve said so, instead of making snide comments.”

He parked the car in front of The Bistro, then turned it off and turned to her. “Maybe he doesn’t like us hanging out.”

Hanging out? Is that what he called it?

The two of them got out of the car and walked into the cold coffee shop, standing in line behind the last patron. “I don’t know,” she said lowly so as to not disturb the other customers with their conversation. “I just think that it doesn’t make sense for him to be so…intrusive.”

He looked at her. “Do you want me to say something?”

“No!” she exclaimed. “If it’s not what I think it is, he may get offended.”

“I don’t think he will.” It was soon their turn to order. “Six chocolate chip cookies, please.” He pulled out his wallet and paid for their snacks in cash, then moved to the other side of the counter to pick them up. He handed them to her, “Here.”

“Thank you.”

The two sat at a table—a similar table to the one they first sat at together, but this one was by the floor-to-ceiling windows. He opened the parchment bag the cookies were in and handed her one. “I will say,” he started with his mouth full, “he seemed off today.”

“See? I knew it—”

“But that doesn’t mean he’s being gross, alright? Everyone has an off-day every now and then.”

The two sat in silence after that. He watched students and professors alike walk past The Bistro, some of them entering the café to enjoy pastries and coffee like they were. He began to bounce his leg on the ball of his foot; something, she noticed, that he couldn’t help but do when he was deep in thought. Either that, or sitting cross-legged and wiggling his foot back and forth.

He cannot sit still. Neither can she usually—but it’s apparent that since she’s met him, he made her feel more comfortable…safe, even. She doesn’t pick at her fingers nearly as much.

“Does he make you uncomfortable?” he asked her after a few moments of them silently people-watching. “Are you uncomfortable around him?”

“Not really.” She replied, not knowing exactly how she felt about Chris. She was intrigued by him, yes; she found him attractive, certainly; but she still didn’t know him. And because of that, she seemed to be more on edge when speaking to him. Henry wasn’t anything like that.

“A part of me just has a feeling that he’s coming onto me.”

He coughed, almost choking on his lemonade. “Like, romantically?”

“Yeah. That’s what it seems like.”

He hummed in response. He got up and threw away his trash and hers, offering a hand to help her stand. They soon left The Bistro. He opened the car door for her, then pulled out of the parking lot.

The atmosphere shifted. She knew that there was some form of attraction towards him from her, but was it reciprocated? She didn’t know, but judging by the way his eyebrows were persistent in their angry furrowing, there was something wrong with what she said at the restaurant.

They eventually got back to their complex. He didn’t say a word to her on their trek from the lot to their hallway. “G’night.” He said simply, unlocking his front door and shutting it behind him.

***

Tags (DM to be removed): @lady-x-red @justtwhst @lokisbitch27 @boundtomyfate @cyberdoshee @liquorlaughslove @heroine-of-color

#Chris Evans #chris evans fic #chris evans x reader #chris evans x black woman #chris evans x black reader #henry cavill #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill x black woman #henry cavill x black reader #chris evans x poc!reader #henry cavill x poc!reader #the TA #the TA fic #professor!chris evans #college student!henry cavill

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cosmicjoke · 3 years

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Alright, on to chapter 126 of AoT!

I’ve been waiting to get to this chapter and talk about it a bit!

It’s, in a lot of ways, kind of the climax of the development we’ve seen between Levi’s and Hange’s character’s since the start of the time skip, and really since Hange took over as Commander of the SC.

One thing I want to talk about is Hange’s reaction at the start of the chapter, after they shoot that one soldier dead. They’re crying, and while obviously this is in part because of the pain of having to turn against one of their own, the pain of having to choose, and pick one life over the other, this being Levi’s life over the soldiers pursuing them, when I first read this chapter some months back, my initial impression was that Hange was crying, also, because of the tragedy of the entire situation, in which both they and Levi, two veteran members of the SC, who had dedicated everything they had, from the beginning, to the salvation of humanity, were now being hunted by the very people they’d tried so hard to protect. It’s an incredibly powerful image of Hange, their expression one of hardened determination, while a tear slides down their cheek, and it’s the next two panels, Hange going back to Levi, and telling him “There’s no one after us now. Levi...” which really gave me the impression that their tears were for him too, for the helpless, vulnerable state Levi is in, for him being at deaths door, for the tragedy of their being betrayed by their own people, and how it’s led to this. It strikes me as particularly heartbreaking, that Levi and Hange both were the most dedicated and selfless of soldiers for the Survey Corps, the two that in many ways most embodied the ideals of that group, to fight for and protect humanity, no matter the sacrifice to themselves. Levi especially never expressed or conveyed any desire for himself, not even something as simple as curiosity, but fought only for the hope of one day giving humanity back it’s freedom. I think Hange’s tears are shed here because of that, because they have to look at Levi like this now, broken, almost dead, ravaged and betrayed by the very people he fought and risked his life for again and again and again, unable to fight back as those same people now come to kill him. That Hange had to kill two of those very people in order to protect Levi’s life is what, I think, is so tragic to them, what brings them to tears.

Hange’s entire dialog in the forest, when they think Levi is unconscious still, reveals a lot too, I think. They talk about how they’ll be on the run for the rest of their lives in the Yaegerist’s take control of the island, how they’ve now become “enemies of the state”, and that reflects, again, the tragedy I think Hange feels over their situation. How it’s them specifically, them and Levi, who are now being hunted, all their previous contributions and dedication to humanity’s cause forgotten and thrown in the trash. It’s reflected too in how we see the Yaegerist’s take up the chant of “Dedicate your hearts” twisting it to fit their own, deluded views and beliefs, perverting it until it loses all of his previous meaning. “Dedicate your hearts” was what the members of the Survery Corps cried out in service to humanity, in service to humanity’s survival, it’s hope and freedom. And now, the Yaegerist’s are using it as a cry for the destruction of humanity, for the eradication of everyone but themselves. What Levi and Hange both fought for in their military service was to save humanity, they both represented that ideal in pureness and conviction, never wavering or straying from it, and so the Yaegerist’s specific persecution of them really highlights just how corrupted and perverted their own driving philosophy is. That they wish to destroy the two soldiers who most encompassed in themselves the genuine ideal of the Survey Corps, the salvation of humanity, the desire to make a better world, a better future, a hopeful future, for the most people possible. The Yeagerist’s want to stamp that out, and Levi and Hange are like the last, real bastions of that ideal in living, tangible form.

I think that’s only emphasized in how neither Hange nor Levi ever consider for even a moment the possibility of giving up and letting Eren have his way. Every other member of the SC, Armin, Mikasa, Jean, Connie, at some point, contemplated and even for a brief moment, accepted, that there was nothing they could do, and were going to stay on the island and just let the Rumbling happen. They give up, even if only for a moment, and try to logically excuse that decision. But Levi asks Hange in that forest, “If we keep running and hiding, what will that get us?”, and reminds Hange that he knows them too well to buy that they were ever genuinely thinking of staying there and doing nothing. It isn’t an option, for either of them. Inaction has never been something either of them could abide. Levi specifically was drawn to Erwin because of his refusal to do nothing, to have the guts to make a decision, no matter the outcome, and Levi himself has always strived to act, to do the same and make a choice, and to commit to that choice fully, and accept the consequences. So neither of them were ever going to give up, were ever going to just sit there and let the Rumbling happen. Both Levi and Hange really affirm beyond doubt in this moment how deeply they embody the ideals and goals of the Survey Corps, to dedicate your heart, body and soul, for the sake of humanity. To sacrifice your own hopes and dreams, even your very life, for that ideal. It’s never even a question for them. And them being the last two surviving members of the SC veterans, it only feels appropriate. They were there before everything changed, when it really was just a pure and simple attempt to defeat the Titans and win humanity back their freedom, and there they remain, even after everything has changed, the circumstances, the stakes, the enemy, still fighting for that same goal, to save humanity.

I also just want to point out the look of total despair on Levi’s face when Hange asks him what happened with Zeke, and later on in the chapter, when they’re talking to Pieck and Magath. I think Levi is burdened by a deep sense of regret here, which is something he always tries his best not to be, and it’s because he allowed Zeke to escape, which led to him making contact with Eren and setting this entire disaster off. Levi chastises himself, saying “I screwed up. I wasn’t able to figure out if he was truly ready to die... I let him get away again.”. I think Levi is blaming himself for what’s happening, even though it’s really not his fault, it’s Zeke’s and Eren’s. But Levi’s almost obsession with making choices without regret is born from, I think, a deep struggle to hold to that philosophy. He tries so hard to believe in it, to live it, But I think Levi struggles with believing in it, with making a firm and unyielding choice, and pushing past whatever the consequences are to keep moving forward. He’s someone who’s experienced so much pain and loss in his life, and because of that, because of those experiences and that grief, just over and over again having everything he’s ever loved and cared for ripped away from him, its made it only more of a struggle for him to carry on and not regret. For all of Levi’s seemingly stoic, harsh exterior, it’s plain, I think, that inside, he’s in actuality the most deeply feeling, sensitive and compassionate character in SnK, and the most deeply affected character when it comes to the suffering and pain of others. He understands it, and empathizes with it, more than anyone. In some ways, Levi strikes me as almost brittle inside, so easily hurt, so easily moved to compassion and understanding. He has a terribly soft and vulnerable heart. It’s why he’s so non-judgmental, too, I think, when he sees someone else struggling with their own choices, why he refuses to ever try and force others to agree with him, or convince them that he’s right and they’re wrong. Why he tries, in his awkward but kind way, to comfort them. Why he says again and again that he doesn’t know what is or isn’t the right choice. Because he knows how hard it is. Because for Levi, despite refusing inaction, and despite striving to always act and not regret his choices, he still has to live with and carry the weight of those actions consequences, the outcomes of his decisions, and he isn’t ever able to divorce himself from that, from the feelings of pain and sadness and heartbreak that comes with each loss, each defeat, each failure. He feels too much, and too deeply, and he’ll always struggle to continue on, even as he refuses not to, even as he dedicates himself to it. It’s precisely BECAUSE it’s hard for Levi to not regret, to keep fighting and acting, and push through his pain, that makes him so heroic. He never succumbs to what I think are obviously real, probably at times overwhelming feelings of depression and despair. He always keeps fighting, even as he’s drowning. I think Levi is drowning all throughout this final arc, the waves of his sadness and struggle against feelings of hopelessness always threatening to drag him under. But he never lets them. He never stops swimming, never stops pushing towards the shore. And that’s Levi’s true strength. That refusal to give up, even when he’s filled with despair and regret.

One last thing. I’ve never seen anyone else mention how Levi saved himself from dying when Zeke detonated the thunder spear by shielding himself with his own blade. Levi tucked himself up against it and braced for the impact of the explosion. If he hadn’t thought and acted quickly enough to do that, he probably would have died. Well, just another example of Levi’s refusal to give in to hopelessness. Anyone else probably would have.

#shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan #Levi Ackerman #hange zöe #snk 126 #meta #thoughts

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chuckaf · 3 years

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Chuck Fic Rec List: Updated

So my fic rec post was in my notifs again the other day, and I noticed a while back that the formatting on the post has gotten all messed up and it’s also had like three reblog additions to it anyway meaning there are three versions out there lol. so, I wanted to do another list of chuck fic recs! I’ll keep the other one up still, so I’m not gonna repeat every fic here, just some I really recommend. I’m also adding the fic summaries, which I didn’t on the old post, and some more of my own opinions so, buckle up for a long post!

Chuck Versus the Steampunk Chronicles | Steampunk.Chuckster

1896. A world powered by steam, where humans and machines coexist, and airships are the fashionable mode of transport. The US Empire's deepest and darkest secrets arrive at Chuck Bartowski's doorstep. Have they fallen into the wrong hands? Or will the inventor prove his mettle, even while he's forced to hide from the very people he's protecting? AU, ongoing chronicle, Charah.

A genuinely incredible AU story, with an entire crafted world and universe, so detailed it frequently blows my mind. There is heart and family and infuriatingly brilliant slow-burn, plus a buttload of danger and super fun historical/steampunk action. Oh how I LOVE it.

Chuck vs the Charade | somedeepmystery

When computer nerd Chuck Bartowski returns home to an empty apartment and a dead girlfriend he finds himself embroiled in a deadly game of espionage and deceit. Everyone around him is playing a part to get what they want and when he starts falling for the new woman in his life, he can't help but wonder if he can trust her or if she's the one he should fear the most.

An action and twist-filled AU based on the movie Charade, which is just such a brilliant fic concept I absolutely adored it from the start.

Two Sides of the Same Coin | dettiot

When you're a spy, there's all kinds of occupational hazards when you work with another spy. For Sarah Walker, though, one mission becomes a life-changing experience. Because working with Charles Carmichael leads to protecting Chuck Bartowski.

The first time I read this fic my mind was just blown to its genius. Such a brilliant interpretation of what the Intersect and its concepts set up in the show could be, and ooooof the Chuck/Sarah interactions, my HEART. Related to it, its companion piece:

A Flip of the Coin | dettiot

What made Charles Carmichael agree to become Chuck Bartowski? Well, to start, it wasn't as much of a change as you'd think. A companion to the early chapters of Two Sides of the Same Coin from Carmichael's perspective.

Chuck vs The Butterfly Effect | n7agentbartowski

Chuck Bartowski is a normal guy who just hit rock bottom. No girlfriend, no career and no super computer stuck inside his head. It isn't until Chuck meets a gorgeous stranger on the beach that he begins to think his life is about to change for the better. An AU Chuck fic without the Intersect. "Change one thing and it changes everything."

I said it on the OG post, but this story has one of my top 5 Chuck/Sarah fic meetings. So funny, so... very Chuck. The story is a little angsty overall, but a great read.

Chuck vs the Rogue Spy | Crumby

When a rogue spy from Chuck Bartowski's past shows up to help him during his first solo mission, Chuck hopes that he'll finally find out what happened to Sarah Walker. Post-S2 AU.

There’s a lot of Season 3 fix-it fics out there, which I don’t usually read bc I actually love season 3 lol, but this one’s a good one! A twisty deviation from canon, but still feels really true to character.

Chuck Versus the Nerds Rewrite | Steampunk.Chuckster and David Carner

What happens when two nerds talk endless hours about their favorite TV show? A new take on the show you know, but with the flair, twists, and turns you've come to expect from Steampunk . Chuckster and david . carner. Somewhat canon. Charah.

As the summary says, a different take on the show, which honestly makes a couple changes I would too, but also adds a bunch of fun twists and plots that make it totally new and fresh. Seeing Chuck and Sarah’s thoughts in the more canon sections is just delicious, too.

The Trapped Assassin | SarahsSupplyCloset

After a mission goes awry, the CIA's most lethal assassin is ordered to take vacation while her superiors figure out what to do with her. But when she meets a disarming tourist, their immediate connection only adds to her disillusionment with the agency and her career. Will he be enough for her to finally take the plunge and leave the only life she's ever known? Charah AU

A warning for the very justified M rating if you don’t like that sort of thing, but this is definitely a plot-heavy fic, too. A really neat Sarah-heavy AU, with a whole lotta Chuck/Sarah fancy French vacationy goodness.

Chuck vs the Second Chance | malamoo

AU from mid-season 2 and onwards. Chuck and Sarah part ways only to be reunited years later. COMPLETE.

Literal, crying-at-my-screen angst. Not even a super happy ending. But a brilliantly written, part-reflective/flashback fic, exploring what would’ve happened if Chuck and Sarah’s relationship really was an assignment all along-- and the aftermath. It’s heartbreaking. But if you want a little heartbreak, this is your fic.

Ready at Your Hand | dettiot

In the reign of Queen Elizabeth I, a Catholic plot against the queen comes to the attention of spymaster Sir Francis Walsingham. To protect Elizabeth, he develops an unusual plan: hide the passing of intelligence between two agents by a false romance. When Lady Sarah Walker and Chuck Carmichael meet, though, their pretend flirtation becomes much more.

I love Chuck fic for the very reason that it’s inspired such adventurous and totally unique AUs. Here’s some Elizabethan fake-dating Chuck and Sarah! They have to be so Proper, it’s like that hand moment from Pride and Prejudice but Elizabethan and times a billion. The pining!!

Sarah Versus Getting Married | Steampunk.Chuckster

Sarah Walker is getting married. Canon. Charah.

I’d recommend all of SC’s fics if I had the room, and I’m already recommending a ton sksks but most of my fic recs are AUs, and this one isn’t! It’s canon, and covers some of in the gap in 4x24, with Sarah just before the wedding itself. Super sweet, heart-tugging, brilliant.

A Chuckmas Carol | Mikki13

A new twist to Dickens' beloved "A Christmas Carol". When Sarah begins to shut out the world around her, three spirits come to show her the error of her ways. Season 3 AU.

Another Season 3 AU, this one written pre-series so it definitely doesn’t fit to canon, but it’s still wonderfully rich in character depth and angst and it also made me cry. Plus, festive!

Chuck Versus Thin Ice | Steampunk.Chuckster

On the doorstep of the Olympics, top American curler Sarah Walker has lost her mixed doubles partner and her boyfriend in one fell swoop. Her coaches throw newbie Team U.S.A. curler Chuck Bartowski onto her team and thrust them into the Olympics, hanging America's curling hopes on two people who only have a short amount of time to learn to trust one another. Charah AU.

Do you like curling? Or the Winter Olympics? It doesn’t really matter because somehow this fic made me extremely invested in both of those things, as well as Chuck and Sarah and them being INSUFFERABLE. Catch me now knowing a ton about curling thanks to this fic.

Walker’s Eleven | Moonlight Pilot

Not the same plot as the movie. Sarah Walker never got out of the con game or became a spy, and now she's on her final con. What happens when true love and betrayal get added to the mix? Twists, turns, and Jeffster!

Con!Sarah always interests me, and this fic is full of her. Lotta con plot, lotta Chuck and Sarah.

The Detective and the Tech Guy | thecharleses

Sarah Walker is a Pinkerton detective. Chuck Bartowski is an electronics genius. They wouldn't have met except for a case of mistaken identity and murder. Will the detective and the tech guy solve the mystery, distracted by the riddle in their own hearts? An homage to The Thin Man film series. Formerly co-written by Steampunk . Chuckster and dettiot, now ONLY Steampunk . Chuckster.

Everyone in this fic is so damn cool. There are so many martinis. But also great heart and family and like, standing up for who you love, and later also Chuck with Baby Clara content which frankly the show robbed us of. Also, PI!Sarah!!!

Gravity | Poetic4U

AU. Sarah makes a decision that altered her life forever.

This is just a one-shot, which many of these stories are not, so a good one if you don’t fancy a big read! Just because it’s short, though, doesn’t mean it’s lacking; a really awesome what-if AU, and heavy on the Chuck and Sarah.

A Yuletie Tale | Steampunk.Chuckster

Sarah Walker was dumped the day before Christmas Eve, and her Plus One at her work’s annual Christmas Eve Soiree is now officially a Plus Zero. Her best friend Ellie Bartowski has a solution to her problem, and Sarah finds she isn’t quite as sure about it as Ellie is. AU Christmas Charah.

I’m particularly in love with this fic because, instead of beginning with a meet-cute, it involves Chuck and Sarah already two years into a friendship-- Sarah is Ellie’s best friend. And she’s been crushing harrrd on Ellie’s brother. Also Chuck is in a tux. It’s pretty.

Set, Spike, Dive! | Frea O’Scanlin

Chuck never expected to even make it to the Olympics. Everything is working against him: he's too tall for a diver, too inexperienced for a medal, too much of a wildcard to really make his mark. But an unexpected meeting at the airport, some intriguing new friends, and a whirlwind romance on the sand just might set up London 2012 as the time of Chuck Bartowski's life.

A London 2012 AU, because why not. This is just a fun Olympic-y ride!

OTP (One True Pairing) Prompts | David Carner

A series of Prompts I found online about different times and places in Chuck and Sarah's life. Mostly AU, mostly one-shots. I assume mostly fluff, but I might get deep. I doubt it, it's me. Charah...ALWAYS (It says complete, but if an idea strikes me...)

If you’re not so into long stories, this fic is perfect. Individual set-ups and stories, all Chuck and Sarah, and all super cute. You could dip in and out and just pick a scenario you enjoy.

Chuck vs The Frontier | ninjaVanish

AU: Chuck was enjoying a simple life as a 19th century watchmaker until an encounter with a beautiful Secret Service agent thrust him into a world of intrigue and adventure he never wanted. But then, with Agent Walker around, it can't be all bad, can it?

This fic gets props for being historically-set but still including the Intersect. Again, a historical AU, so the pining!! the need to be Proper!!! But besides all that, there’s a lot of action fun as well.

Chuck Versus The Crosswalk: Remastered | WvonB

Will a last minute mission help our two favorite characters finally get together? This is the remastered version of my first story.

The original version of this fic is on my first list; this is the updated version! It’s not a complete AU, instead a story that diverges from canon, so if you’re more into canon characters and setting than a new AU scenario, this is a great fic for that.

Little Girls, Paper Wreaths, and Choc Chip Cookies | DanaPAH

Very AU: Sarah Walker is a single mother whose Christmas spirit needs a boost after a tough divorce. She isn't quite ready to go looking for romance, but her little daughter's affection for their new neighbor may lure it right to her doorstep, anyway.

An incredibly sweet AU one-shot where Chuck and Sarah are new neighbours, and Sarah has a super cute little girl. So much sweetness and love and hope. I love this fic so much it literally led me to write my own neighbour-kid-AU, so, not to toot my own horn but I’ll link it here anyway.

May Your Walls Know Joy | halfachance

Looking for a fresh start after some tough times, Sarah and her three-year-old daughter move to LA. When they meet a sweet curly-haired nerd who lives next door, though, Sarah realizes they might just find more happiness than they'd ever imagined, if only her past doesn't catch up to her first. AU.

It’s what the summary says; if you wanna read, feel free!

Chuck vs the Sound of Music | quistie64

AU. Chuck, nerd extraordinaire, is a man with seven children and Sarah must protect them all from Fulcrum's evil designs. Warning: there will be singing.

I mean. Not much mystery as to the concept with that title and summary lol, but this is a super fun, soft ride with a lotta sweetness, and yes, singing.

Just Two People | David Carner

Meet Sarah Walker PhD, Psychologist, specializing in personality traits. Meet Chuck Bartowski, man who has left THE electronic company of 2020. When Burton Consultants tries to figure out what is wrong with the morale of Orion Industries, what happens when a guy named Chuck meets a woman named Sarah. I'll give you a hint, it's me writing.

David’s done something pretty special with this fic. It’s Chuck and Sarah centric, but very much an ensemble piece, too, with a lot of Team Bartowski and other familiar faces throughout.

Chuck Versus the Con Game | Steampunk.Chuckster

AU. Chuck and Sarah are partners in the con game. It's an existence wrought with danger and violence. Every day could be their last. Every mission could be the end of the line.

This is where I freak out SC and declare this fic the reason I ever got hooked on Chuck fic and then wrote Chuck fic, and the reason I still love it today but. that is true lol. Just so. so good. It’s also written with the chapters out of chronological order, which is super fun from a reading perspective. But con!Sarah AND con!Chuck?? Best. The kind of fic you will be thinking about for days (if not, y’know, years).

As you can tell by the repeats, I highly recommend just about anything by Steampunk.Chuckster, dettiot, or David Carner, but there are a TON of amazing Chuck fics and authors out there. I’ve never known a writing community so wildly creative-- there are so many unique AUs and canon explorations and story concepts that this show has manifested, and it’s all so much fun.

Most of the Chuck fic community is still over on FFN rather than AO3, so if any of these whet your appetite, feel free to have a browse there for more stories. I’m sure you’ll find something great. Personally, all the incredible writing there has also led me to write a buttload; I’m at halfachance on FFN, so if you see any of my stuff or wanna chat fic, feel free to message me there or here.

Happy reading, folks!

#chuck #fic rec #chuck fic #nbcchuck #praying if i edit this to add to it or i reblog it to add to it all the links stay and the line breaks don't disappear sksks #the old one still looks okay on desktop but it's messed up on the app and on mobile and it's just all generally messy #so i've been wanting to make this for aaages lol yay to finally doing something! woo!

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aspoonofsugar · 4 years

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Selflessness and Selfishness

Hello anons!

These asks can be answered together.

First of all, I will say that my feelings about the chapter changed with every different translation I received, so I think some things are purposelly left ambiguous and not completely solved because they will be later on.

As @hamliet mentioned in her meta, I think that the chapter is contrasting two different POV:

On one hand there is Hange and the alliance’s POV. They are not fighting for their loved ones. The SC have betrayed former comrades and their hometown to save their enemies. In this chapter, the Warriors too are asked to give up on their hometown and their families, so that they have a chance to save the rest of the world. They are asked to make a very selfless choice, they will be no rewarded for.

On the other hand there is Eren, who claims he is ready to destroy the rest of the world, so that his loved ones can live happily in the lie he will create afterwards, thanks to the Founding Titan powers. He is extremely selfish not only in what he is trying to obtain (destroying the world to let few people live), but also in the way he is pursuing it. As a matter of fact Eren is completely ignoring his loved ones’ feelings and pov.

At the same time, this panel:

Can be contrasted with these other two panels:

I pointed it out here as well:

Eren is so sure of his own future that he has stopped searching for an alternative. He can push forward because he only sees one thing. Mikasa and Armin have been more passive and reactive to the point that they almost stopped moving, but they are still looking for chances and for alternatives. Their vision is struggling against a deterministic perspective and this in itself adds to the idea that their path is different from Eren’s.

The panels above make it explicit. Eren is obsessed with moving forward and sees one single path. This makes him stronger in a sense, but also limited and dangerous.

In short, I think these two thematic conflicts will be solved by the end of the manga. Was there really only one way? Is it right to sacrifice one’s loved ones for the sake of the world? These questions tie to the central theme of freedom. How can humans be free if the future is set in stone? How can they be free if their loved ones are lost to a cycle of hatred? What does it even mean to be free?

In this meta I will mostly focus on the first conflict I underlined because I think it is the main one highlighted by the chapter itself. When it comes to the dychotomy selfishness/selflessness, Historia’s character is a key-one because she plays with these two concepts.

When she first appeared in the manga, Historia projected a selfless persona, but deep down her motivations were selfish. She was looking for a heroic way to die and Ymir pointed out to her how wrong that was. Throughout the Uprising, we explored Historia’s trauma and the reason behind her actions is explained. Historia was abused as a child and was taught she had to be a “good girl”, so that others would love her.

The Uprising was about her...well...”rebelling” against this mindset and fighting back. It was about her becoming a “bad girl” in the sense that she would have acted for herself. In this way, the dychotomy selfishness/selflessness, which had been present in Historia’s character since the beginning found a beautiful synthesis. In the end, Historia’s way of living for others was an unhealthy kind of “selflessness” rooted in a weak sense of self. Her willingness to live for herself was instead a positive kind of “selfishness”, which let her help others in a more genuine and effective way. This is because, all in all, people are a mixture of selfish and selfless traits and must find an equilibrium between them.

What about this chapter? In this chapter we see the lines of Historia’s new found equilibrium becoming muddled.

First of all there is this:

This line is a reference to when Levi told Historia to either run or fight. Here, Historia says there is no need to do either because she has accepted her role of queen and has chosen to do what she can to protect the island.

In short, it is as if Historia is going through the Uprising again, but in a reverse way. At the beginning of the Uprising, she had no idea what to do and by the end she chose to make the role of queen hers. It is not a role she wanted, but she still managed to make use of it to realize what she wanted. In short, she used what life gave her as better as she could.

At the beginning of the conversation with Eren, she is still trying to do the same. She sees no other option to save the Island than to go along with the MP’s plan. However, Eren challenges her and puts Historia’s whole perspective of herself into a crisis:

As people noticed, these two phrases are references to past moments. Historia is referencing Ymir when she told her to live with pride. Eren is referencing Historia herself, when she announced she would become a “bad girl”, who saves her friends.

In the cave scene, these two lines went together. This is because Historia becoming a “bad girl” is her way to fulfill Ymir’s request. However, in this chapter these two lines are juxtaposed. On one hand Historia says that she won’t be able to live pridefully if she does not stop Eren. On the other hand Eren asks her to be a “bad girl” and to save him once more.

In order to live her life with pride, Historia should stop Eren and save the world, even if this means she will go through a high personal sacrifice (losing a friend and becoming a titan herself). However, Eren insists she should just be a “bad girl” and live her own life as if the genocide of the world did not happen.

Who is right?

As one can see, the resolution Historia gained after the Uprising is being challenged. She can’t protect the world without sacrificing herself and she can’t protect herself without sacrificing the world. At the same time, she is asked to choose between a personal connection (Eren) and the world.

The choice Historia seems to make is to help Eren. Just judging by the chapter, she seems to be regressing and to give up on the idea of living with pride. She accepts the role of “bad girl” instead.

This ties with what has been an ongoing motif with Eren after the time-skip. Eren seems to take and twists ideas and concepts, which have been with the readers since the beginning.

Things like “freedom”, “moving forward”, “saving one’s friends” used to be inspiring, but right now they have been emptied of all their meaning. They have become slogans Eren keeps repeating to himself and to others. In a sense, Eren keeps facing the world with the same two or three ideas he has had since he was a child. However, the world has become too complex to be experienced with those same mechanisms. Still, Eren refuses to change his mindset. Because of this, what made those ideals inspiring in the beginning is absent from what Eren does and says now.

In this chapter, Eren is doing the same with what Historia said in the cave. The point of Historia’s arc was not to become a selfish girl, who would sacrifice others for her sake. The point of her arc was to live not for others, but for herself. She had to become proud of who she was. This is why since the cave she has been trying to live pridefully. However, here Eren is using the words, which were symbolic of her change, to ask her to fulfill another role for him. Eren wants Historia to be a “bad girl”, but this is not qualitatively different from being a “good girl”. It is just a different adjective and a different role, but it is still a role. It is still not what Historia wants. Historia does not want a genocide, but she seems to be giving in to the fear for her future and to the feelings Eren’s words provoke in her.

Historia and Eren are the two protagonists of the Uprising and they are the two people, who changed Paradis. However, right now they are discussing of bringing Paradis back to how it was. Eren, who used to despise people accepting their peaceful lives, wants to reduce his friends to “cattle” without will of their own. Historia, who wanted to stop with the lies of the First King, seems to be supporting a plan, which will end with a huge lie.

The world envisioned by Eren is the same world we started with. It is a world where humanity is almost gone and only the people of a tiny island have survived. Eren rebelled against that world, but when all is said and done he is going back to it because he is not able to accept a more complex world than that. Ironically, he is not moving forward, but he is going back.

What does Mikasa have to do with all of this?

It seems that in Eren’s mind, his feelings for Mikasa are connected with Historia’s line. The nature of the connection is still unknown. We can’t infer it from the chapter alone because we still lack a part of the conversation. Why does Historia immediately think of having a baby to escape the MP? There were tons of other ways to succeed at it. And why does Eren connect that moment with Zeke’s question?

We still don’t know.

What is sure is that both Historia and Mikasa are important for Eren. What is more, they will probably end up representing different things, when it comes to his character.

After all, they have been associated before in Eren’s mind:

However, it is still too soon to properly explore this juxtaposition. As for now, if what the chapter shows is to be taken at face value, Mikasa and Historia’s reaction to Eren seems to be opposite.

Historia seems to be choosing her connection with Eren (the moment in the cave) over everything else, even her promise to Ymir.

Mikasa is instead going through an arc, which will probably lead her to kill Eren in the end:

In a sense, this is the same conflict of the serum bowl through a different lens. Once again characters are asked to choose between their loved ones and the bigger picture.

There might still be more to Historia’s choice than what was shown this chapter, so I won’t comment on her anymore. I will say instead that the difference between Mikasa and Eren, which emerged in the serum bowl is showing itself fully in this arc.

Mikasa accepted the inevitability of loss and also that there is more than her and her loved ones. Eren did not. What is more, Eren also missed Levi’s teaching in that situation. It is true that Levi chose Erwin over the world, but he still did it selflessly because he understood what Erwin wanted and gave it to him, even if that was not what Levi personally wished.

Not only is Eren choosing his loved ones over the world, but he is also choosing his own personal version of the world over his loved ones. Mikasa is instead willing to stop Eren from doing what is wrong. Moreover she is willing to stop him precisely because she loves him:

Similarly, she is slowly breaking free of the ideal image she used to have about Eren. She is coming to a full understanding of who Eren is as a person. Despite this, she still cares about him.

When it comes to this, it is interesting that Eren is so conflicted about Mikasa’s feelings for him. As a matter of fact, it is as if Eren is not fully able to grasp how and why Mikasa cares so much for him.

This is why he asks her about it in Marley and later on questions Zeke about the Ackermans. A contrived genetical explanation seems to him more plausible than Mikasa simply being in love with him.

At the same time, Eren is trying to refuse these feelings and to force Mikasa to hate him. He deeply hurts her in chapter 112 and apparently even tells Luise to destroy Mikasa’s scarf.

This has probably to do with the fact that Mikasa reminds Eren of a part of himself he is trying to repress:

Mikasa loves the kind side of Eren, but this is a side Eren refuses because it is also his most vulnerable one.

These are my main thoughts on the chapter and they answer many questions by the anons. To some of the more specific asks, I will give short and individual answers.

#snk #snk 130 #snk meta #eren jeager #historia reiss #mikasa ackerman #my meta

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clumsyclifford · 3 years

Text

i can’t focus when you’re with me (i can’t sleep when i’m alone)

hello i wrote some jalex because i had XO by nightly stuck in my head and this came from that

thank you @tirednotflirting and @reveriesofawriter for the love i love you guys so much all the time

title from XO by nightly

read it here on ao3

It’s on a pink sticky note on the fridge.

back soon. xo

The sign-off is familiar. The sticky note is also familiar, though Alex doesn’t really see why Jack leaves them anymore. There’s no point to the sticky note when Alex already knows Jack will be back and is no closer to figuring out his system for deciding when. Maybe there is no system. Maybe he truly just appears whenever he feels like it.

Alex knows about variable-ratio reward schedules; he knows how the lottery works, promising an eventual reward and paying up just often enough to maintain the ruse. He isn’t an idiot. He can understand he’s not really winning the lottery when he spends every single night wondering if this will be the one Jack decides to grace him with his presence. One victory is nothing when it’s borne of a thousand failures. But Alex will take one night with Jack for two weeks without, and Jack knows that, too.

So maybe Alex is an idiot, but it’s worth it to be. Nights spent with Jack are some of Alex’s favorites. Mornings waking up without him are just an occupational hazard.

Jack doesn’t belong to him. That was never part of the agreement.

The spontaneity of Jack’s visits also cause a lot of problems in Alex’s life. He can’t plan his work around Jack when Jack has no schedule. And if Jack shows up while Alex is in the middle of something, forget it. As soon as the lock clicks and the door swings open — as soon as Alex hears the familiar footsteps and the toneless humming of Jack’s entrance — everything else becomes static.

It’s distracting. It’s infuriating. It’s intoxicating.

A cool breeze edging on warm sweeps through Alex’s open window tonight. He has a textbook open on the desk and his laptop beside it. The contents of the textbook are entirely failing to stick in Alex’s brain, and he doubts taking notes is helping in any way. It’s important that he learn this, especially when they’re moving on so swiftly from this section of the material; Alex can already foresee the late night he’s going to have trying to reteach this chapter to himself once he finishes reading it.

Three excruciating pages later, Alex decides the textbook can wait for a cup of tea.

It’s quiet around Alex’s place as he treks into the kitchen to put the water on. It’s quiet more often than not these days, as Alex has gotten more and more entrenched in his coursework. He’s had less time to play music. When he has free hours now, he typically uses them to sleep. It’s not an exciting life, but it’s the one he needs to lead so he doesn’t collapse from exhaustion at any given moment.

Still, the staticky hiss from the kettle as it starts to boil is comforting. Alex leans against the counter with his eyes closed, somehow simultaneously trying to refresh his memory on everything he just spent two and a half hours reading and trying not to think about that. As much as he knows he needs a break from all the studying, he’s not sure he can really afford it.

Naturally, this is when the lock clicks and the humming starts.

Alex’s eyes fly open. He stares out across the kitchen. The kettle finally reaches a loud conclusion and clicks to let Alex know it’s officially done boiling the water. And through the open doorway, an off-key rendition of ‘American Idiot’ announces Jack’s presence.

He’s humming the guitar solo. Of course.

Warring parts of Alex’s brain fight to react to this unexpected arrival. He wants to groan, because this is the worst time Jack could have fucking chosen, on tonight of all nights. He’d like to spin Jack by the shoulders and push him back out the door where he’d come in before he gets too comfortable. Sorry, not tonight, too much stuff to do that I can’t afford to let you distract me from, he’d love to say.

But the other part of him is imagining pushing Jack by the shoulders against a very much closed door, and Alex, in his weary state, isn’t disciplined enough to ignore that thought.

Jack won’t come into the kitchen — he says it’s too domestic for him. Alex pretends he hasn’t heard the door open and close and makes himself a cup of tea anyway, fully prepared for it to go cold. Maybe Jack will understand if Alex lays it out for him. Maybe if Jack sees the textbook he’ll latch on.

Not that Alex thinks Jack doesn’t understand how much work Alex has. Jack is an intelligent person. He knows. It’s just he doesn’t care.

And Alex has to take some responsibility, because it’s not like he’s trying very hard to express that it matters to him if he passes his classes. When Jack shows up, Alex gives up. He could try harder to focus on his work, to send Jack away, but he doesn’t want to. He likes when Jack is here. He’d just like it not to overlap with nights when he has an entire textbook chapter to read, memorize, and internalize.

Steam is rising off Alex’s mug like wispy cirrus clouds. He brings it to his lips, burns his tongue taking a sip, and sighs.

Jack is sitting in Alex’s desk chair when Alex finally returns to his room.

He looks up with bright eyes when he sees Alex come in. “Hi, finally.” As he clocks the mug: “Ooh, whatcha drinkin’? Did you make me any?”

“Tea, and no,” Alex says. “I made it for me, because I’m trying to study.”

“Operative word being try,” Jack says.

“Yeah, and hopefully soon I will be succeeding,” Alex says. He’s not sure why he insists on pretending to refuse Jack when they both know with one hundred percent certainty that this is not what Alex wants nor a hill he plans to die on. For his own dignity, though, he has to at least look like he’s making the effort to be responsible. “You wanna learn about childrens’ development in their first year of life?”

“Such a hard no from me,” Jack says. “But be real. Do you want to learn about that?”

“No,” Alex says. “But I have to.”

Jack sighs. He holds out a hand and Alex places his mug in Jack’s grip. “What’s this? The usual?” Alex nods. Jack brings it to his lips, barely drinking any before exhaling harshly. “Fuck, that’s hot.”

“Yeah, I just made it. As you came in.”

“You want me to go?”

Alex sighs. “Obviously I don’t want you to go. I’d love to get some advance notice for when you’re gonna show up, though. Tonight’s such a bad night.”

“Tonight’s a bad night so far,” Jack corrects him, setting the mug down on Alex’s desk. It’s dangerously close to the laptop; Alex nudges it further away, and Jack just shakes his head a little, smiling.

“I mean tonight is a bad night for you to be here,” Alex clarifies.

“Then I’ll leave.”

“But I don’t want you to leave.”

“So I’ll stay.”

“Yeah, but then I’ll be distracted.”

Jack shrugs. “I’m honestly okay with that.”

“I’ll be distracted from my work,” Alex says, although he’s sure Jack had understood the first time. “By you. Like always.”

“And I’m okay with that too.” Jack tilts his head, stretching his neck to look up at Alex, deliberately baring his throat. He drives Alex insane, in whatever way is most accurate to the moment. Alex wishes he had more self-control, but thinking about turning Jack away and instead spending several more hours at a desk reading page after page of information he won’t absorb makes him want to cry.

And it would be rude, after all this time, to mess with the rules of the game. Jack shows up expecting that Alex will surrender, and Alex being taken aback and generally inconvenienced by this is all part of the guidelines for playing. He signed his agency away the first time he kissed Jack against the door. It’s too late to ask for it back.

(It’s not really too late — if Alex wanted it, he’d have it. He just doesn’t want it.)

Alex holds up one finger and with his other hand he lifts the mug to his lips. It’s still too hot to drink but he lets the liquid scald the tip of his tongue and the roof of his mouth as he swallows.

“You could call me,” he says.

“I don’t have your number,” Jack says.

“You could ask for it.”

“I don’t want it.”

“It’d make my life a lot easier.”

“But way less exciting.” Jack stands up, and he’s taller than Alex, and he’s so close now that Alex can count his eyelashes as they flutter shut and then quickly open again. “You can’t plan for everything, Alex.”

“Okay, I realize that, but I could definitely plan for you,” Alex returns. “Like if you just told me when you wanted to come over I could plan for that to happen. Instead of just appearing out of nowhere and—”

“What, ruining your night?” Jack casts his gaze to the open textbook. He looks back at Alex, quietly smirking. “I��m so sorry for distracting you from the absolutely fascinating timeline of child development.”

“Yeah, you should be.”

“Alex, this is a rescue mission.” Jack’s fingers land feather-light on Alex’s wrist and travel up his arm, pushing his sleeve up to his shoulder and bracing against the slope of his neck. His grip tightens as he massages the tense muscles under his fingertips. “I’m like your guardian angel. I show up when I can tell you need saving.”

“Saving from the horrors of developmental psychology?” Alex mutters, posture slipping like a landslide. Nobody on the planet can ease the tension permanently at home in Alex’s shoulders, but Jack is welcome to try.

“Yes,” Jack says seriously. “From the horrors of developmental psychology. And because I can literally feel the tension in your shoulders. When’s the last time you relaxed?”

Last time you were here, is Alex’s real answer. “I’m not clear on the relevance of this.”

Jack frowns. “I don’t want you to be stressed.”

“Then stop showing up out of the blue,” Alex huffs.

“Really? I’m the biggest stressor in your life?" Jack sounds genuinely incredulous at this.

“No, you’re not.” Alex sighs, looking anywhere except Jack’s face. “But you’re not not a stressor. You know I’m busy. You know I like to have a schedule. A little warning goes a long way.”

Jack is quiet for a moment. His fingers dig into Alex’s skin, working muscles that ache under his firm touch. It feels improbably good for something that kind of hurts. Alex closes his eyes.

“Forget I said that,” he mumbles. “We’re not gonna get anywhere. I’ve made my peace with it. You’re just going to be absolutely unpredictable and I’m just gonna be fine with it, I guess, because I like when you’re here, even if you never want to tell me when that’s going to be. It’s fine.”

Jack’s hands still. “I just think you’re overthinking it. I’m not complicated, Alex. I’m so easy. This is easy. If it were that important to you, you would kick me out, and I’d go. But you never do.” He resumes his massage, this time on the back of Alex’s neck. “You’re always working. And I’m here on a rescue mission, like I said. To keep you from drowning in it. It’s just a question of if you’re willing to be rescued.”

Alex groans. Even he’s not sure if it’s from the frustration of knowing he won’t get through anything else tonight or an effect of Jack’s halfway massage, though he figures it’s probably both. They’ve exhausted this topic and they’re making no progress. Alex is out of patience.

“Okay,” he murmurs. “Rescue me.”

Jack’s warm hands move to Alex’s face, and he’s still smiling a little bit when their lips meet.

The sticky note is gone from the fridge. Alex is not surprised.

Sleep is still clinging to him, weighing from every limb. There’s a stiffness in his neck that has returned from wherever Jack apparently banished it to last night. Out the window, a blanket of clean morning light covers everything it can reach. Inside, a blanket is still dragging on the floor around Alex’s shoulders.

It’s when he’s reaching for the kettle that he remembers his cup of tea.

The blanket drags behind him as Alex treks back to his room, and there he halts in confusion. The mug is gone. He’d definitely left it here last night, and now it’s not here anymore. It had been completely full and now it’s missing.

Huh.

Alex glances at the textbook, open to exactly the page he’d left it at the night prior. There’s a pink sticky note he’d failed to notice earlier.

good luck, this seems boring as hell. xo

p.s. put your tea in the fridge xoxo

A smile crawls into the corners of Alex’s mouth and stays there.

He returns to the kitchen and finds his mug of tea in the fridge, as promised. There’s aluminum foil over the top, which seems pointless but a nice gesture. A confusingly nice gesture. Why is Jack changing the rules of the game all of a sudden? It’s unusual for him to move anything around, for him to leave any indication of his presence other than one single sticky note stuck somewhere for Alex to find.

Now, not only has he moved Alex’s tea, but there’s another sticky note. Alex finds it on top of the mug.

you’re cute when you sleep. xo

Alex stares at the piece of paper until his fridge starts beeping at him that the door has been open too long. He pulls the mug from the fridge and closes it. And then he stares some more. What is happening? What is Jack doing? Is this just going to be another new rule to which Alex is oblivious?

As the microwave reheats last night’s tea — Alex wondering as it spins how Jack had known that Alex is the kind of person to reheat the tea rather than toss it and make a new cup — Alex shuffles into the bathroom to splash some water on his face and deem himself presentable for the day.

And there, on the bathroom mirror, is another pink sticky note.

It reads:

I want to make your life easier. no pressure. xo

Underneath the words, there’s a phone number.

Alex smiles.

#jack barakat #alex gaskarth #jalex #jalex fic #all time low #atl fic #fic #my fic #im so sorry about the tea thing #guys i am 100% alex in this fic #and do you know how much i would kill to have someone just randomly show up at my door #and give me a massage #im literally dying #anyway #enjoy this #i figured id make it a real post because. yknow. fuck it why not i have the time #i have so much free time now that i dont have to worry about fic exchange #mmmmmmmm

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yellowocaballero · 3 years

Note

ok so I know you said you weren’t gonna explain daisy and then you did, and I want u to know I love when you explain your stories, almost as much as the stories themselves. I both envy and admire the way you think about characters and the way you build your stories and put all these elements together. bc this was a silly story and I laughed almost the whole way through, but there were moments with genuine meaning (ok gertude and jon conversation and about being a very nice boy and all that really got me bc like when am I not having feeling about jon lmao). So then I have Many Feelings about this silly story that are both heartfelt and just pure amusement and I go to you tumblr and then you talk about this story in a way that just makes me love it more. I think it’s bc you write stories where the pov is generally from only one character and when I read the story it’s like I can tell the other characters are having thoughts and feelings deep enough as the pov character, but for the most part, these rich inner lives or just lives separate from the pov character can’t really be perceived. Like it’s all there, but bc we are only seeing it from one characters pov, then there are things we aren’t going to see. And that’s really cool bc like, your characters are real enough that even tho things aren’t outright stated, I can tell there is so much happening “behind the scenes” so to say. It’s neat bc to read what your processes that went into writing a story is satisfying bc it’s like, ok here is what’s happening without the unreliable narrator. Idk as someone who is perpetually confused on why people do what they do (even myself sometimes lol), I like coming here where you explain things so well. Idk this is getting too long so just gonna say that I just really like what you do haha

;_______; Thank you so much. I’m always stressing out that I talk too much and go on too long about stuff nobody cares about lol. I’m also always pretending that I’ve thought stuff out or that I know exactly what I’m doing when I really don’t. I do objectively talk quite a bit about stuff here, but in my defense almost nobody irl knows that I write, at all. They think I don’t have hobbies.

I’m glad it heightens the experience, though, I didn’t think about it that way. Rise of Skywalker Rule: people shouldn’t need to hear your word of god to understand what’s going on. But I really do hate writing multiple POVs (I only do it when it’s absolutely necessary) for a lot of reasons, but definitely it means that a lot of the behind the scenes character work you do goes unseen. But...even if you don’t see it, you know when it’s not there. A lot of technique in art is like that - invisible unless it’s bad lol. Take Daisy in TCF - it is blindingly evident that I did not really know what was really going on with her until much later in the story. My #1 frustration with that fic - just because Daisy will never tell Jon what’s going on, that’s not an excuse for me not knowing.

But I do think a lot of a story is a supporting cast. I really sincerely hate it when a story is winnowed down to Main Character and Love Interest, and everybody else is a flat prop for that. I was reading a super fabulous Stucky fanfic the other day that was gorgeously written, but...none of the supporting characters had conversations with Steve that weren’t about Bucky. It was like some kind of terrifying Lotus Eater Machine hellscape. Imagine if nobody around you had rich inner lives, that they didn’t have their own rationales for what they did, that they had lives outside of you - that literally their only role in your life was to get you together with your boyfriend. Disturbing. (This was another parodied thing in Sucker’s Bet) A lot of Jonmartin fics are guilty of this too, frequently even worse.

So, it’s kind of this dual thing for me - I have to know 10 things about a character and only 1 of those things will appear in the story. This is why I spent so long going on about how I know character’s religions lol. And even if you don’t know these things, it’s obvious when it’s not there. My stuff gets bloated because I insist on giving every major character a character arc and it is terrible of me (Solitaire was a hellscape). Even in the joke arson story - Jon, Sasha, and Tim all needed their individual character arcs, and even though Gerry and Daisy were more plot based characters you still got a strong sense of their lives.

But the flipside is that as I’ve mentioned I don’t do OCs and I just adjust everyone based on the needs of the story. Character is fluid and flexible for me so rarely anything is set in stone. I’m always spinning a ton of plates. I think when you know too much about your character and their background you end up stubbornly forcing a square peg into a round hole sometimes. For all I’ve talked about knowing characters - sincerely please don’t think about it too hard it’s useless. I don’t get too attached to any one characterization. Most of the time, the characterization in the story organically grows as the story develops. Some of the time I only really get a character as I write the final scene, then I have to go back and rewrite a bunch. There is a tremendous amount of characters who only really clicked for me as I wrote a final climactic scene (HR!Jon, TCF!Daisy and Web!Jon but specifically in Evilcon are the worst offenders, but also TCF!Annabelle, BBC!Gerry, SC!Daisy...).

Anyway if you want the reason why I write so many side stories it’s because I finish a story and I just GOTTA tell you EVERYTHING I know about Agnes and Gerry or whatever (how did they meet? Jon will never know!). Legitimately for anyone who’s read Solitaire I highly recommend the Tim side story because Melanie is probably the most unreliable narrator I’ve ever written and there is this entire fucking storm of shit going under the surface of that Tim. Just because he got so complicated. I’ve been churning out a shitton of HR!Jon stories just to fucking try and get the character to click for me. It just goes on and on. As usual I’m both putting too much thought and not enough thought into things - the only way I really hammer out these things is by writing just an insane quantity of words, which is not the most. efficent way.

Sometimes I feel as if I’m hindering myself by not writing multiple POVs but also fuck that. Thank you for the super sweet ask I loved it!

#my writing #me crying over being validated for my insanely long posts:#yeah honestly the best POV characters are the ones like Melanie and Jon who are just so oblivious to everything #yes if I write a martin story I can have him notice things #but where's the fun in that #Melanie is the single most influential person in her universe and she has no idea #she has an archive defense squad and she has no idea #every time she talks daisy is standing behind her flashing her gun and she has no idea #tim and sasha individually swear loyalty to her WHILE SHE'S BULLYING THEM and she has n oidea #solitaire was so traumatic it burned out all desire to write side space cadet stories but #haha unless?

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gentle-sins-d · 3 years

Text

Transactional

Description:

Despite your relationship with Tony Stark, you catch the eye of Bucky Barnes, who seems to appreciate you much more than your boyfriend. He can’t seem to take his eyes off of you.

TW: angst, smut, a tiny bit of fluff, kinda a little dub con. I make Tony a tad of a d-bag in this story. He and Pepper break up at one point in the mcu. That’s what is going on in this story.

beefy!bucky

word count: 4,400

| Transactional |

A sigh fell from your lips as you watched Tony walk off to answer his fourth call of the evening. So much for a special dinner together. The two of you hardly got any time alone. Last week, Peter needed his help repairing a suit. The week before, Bruce stole him away to pick his brain when it came to Vision. And three weeks ago, Steve Rogers came in barking orders at everyone and ruining Tony’s mood. It was hard to have an evening alone. You didn't know what you preferred. Being with him even though he was snappy or being left alone on Tony’s floor for hours at a time.

After his split with Pepper Potts, Tony knew he was lonely. He knew he needed someone to fill a void without getting attached to them. Or more likely, having them get attached to him. So he did what any billionaire would do. He bought affection. He found you, an unsuspecting, pretty young woman and offered her a deal. It wasn't love. It was payment for you to stay with him, sleep with him, live with him, and be by his side at public events. It had been months stuck in a miserable relationship.

Your phone buzzed, a text from Tony tell you that General Ross had him on the phone and he wasn't planning on letting him off anytime soon. He told you to eat without him. But that wasn't what you wanted. You were upset. You were mad. So instead, you walked downstairs to the main floor, kicking off your heels in frustration as you headed to the wine rack next to the fridge. You grabbed a bottle of red wine and popped it open, angrily mumbling curses and insults to the Avengers you lived with under her breath. You poured her glass of wine, nearly brimming it. You leaned against the counter, taking one long swallow of the wine. Your eyes fluttered closed as you did so, the drink that would soon make your body start buzzing being the only comfort to you.

When your glass lowered and your eyes opened, Bucky Barnes was standing across the counter, watching you try to drown your sorrows with a glass of wine. You gasped at the sudden sight of him, swallowing your alcoholic comfort quickly.

“Barnes... I didn't see you in here before... How long have you been standing there?” You asked, watching the man purse his lips to hide a chuckle before speaking. “I was sitting at the table before. So yes, I heard you cursing us all out under your breath. Colorful names. What was Steve’s again? Beady eyed, Captain Dumbass?” He teased, leaning against the counter with one hand while his metal hand rested upon his hip. Your breath hitched in your throat, you eyes widening. It took but a moment for your cheeks to be as red as your wine. He had heard you the whole time. “How come I haven't gotten my colorful nickname yet?” Bucky asked as if he were offended. But his grin gave him away. “You’re the only one here who hasn't pissed me off yet.” You mumbled honestly, watching him step closer. He was a mountain of a man towering over you. Tall, muscular, and his chest was as wide as a dream. His very presence made you feel minuscule.

“But Vision has?” He asked, to which you replied a short and annoyed ‘Robo Bitch’, reminding Bucky of Vision’s nickname. “He interrupts dinner all of the time with philosophical theories and questions.” You point out to Bucky, who nodded in agreement. That was definitely true. Vision was quite the character.

“I thought you and Tony were having dinner together upstairs.” The blue eyed man said, making you furrow your brows. You silently questioned him as to how he knew.

“Steve- I mean Captain Dumbass told me.” He said, his words making a small laugh fall from your lips that were previously frowning. He couldn't help but smile at the little sound of joy coming from your mouth. Forget Steve. He already knew... He kept a close eye on you. Bucky’s infatuation with you was borderline obsession by this point. “Yes, well, it seems as if Tony is a bit too busy for me.” Your smile relaxed into a look of disappointment. Bucky didn't seem pleased to see you upset again. He watched as you gulped down more wine and then set your glass down. “I thought you were happy with Tony. You seemed happy.” It made his blood boil. He was so obsessed, so interested in you. And to see you laughing with Tony, by his side at parties, it made him mad. Like Tony didn't deserve you... “It’s not love. Our relationship... its transactional.” You whispered, a helpless, hopeless tone in your voice. The discouragement you often felt. Tony showed you off like a trophy and that was all. He didn't care for you. You were there to be his arm candy and please him when he was needy. Nothing more. Nothing less.

Bucky furrowed his brows, moving closer to you. He looked genuinely concerned for you. It was a rare look. One you hadn't seen from Tony in quite a while.

“What do you mean? How is it like a transaction?” The charming brunette man asked, crossing his arms over his buff, defined chest. “He found me when I was unsuspecting and offered me money to accompany him to an event. A few drinks later and he was insisting I stay the night with him. So I did. And thats where we’re still at. I thought something could come out of it. But he doesn't love me and he never will.” You rambled, your hand reaching for your wine glass again, but a firm hand reached out and grabbed your wrist before you could grab your glass. “Doll, if you drink that too quickly, your head will be spinning in no time.” He said, refusing to let go of your wrist. “Do you mind?” You fired at him, your eyes locking on his.

“Yes, I do mind. I won't stand here and let you get drunk out of self pity. I’ve tried that. Trust me, it’s a nasty habit you don't need to develop.” The man said, stepping closer to you. His grip on your wrist remained, as he trapped you between the counter and his body. “Perhaps what you need is someone who will appreciate you and treat you how a woman like yourself deserves to be treated.” He whispered. His words were like poison. His offer sounding enticing, exciting, and downright naughty. But you just couldn't. Whether your relationship was real or not, you made Tony a promise. Now you had to keep it. “Mr. Barnes, what kind of fool do you take me for? You think I believe that you care for me? I hardly know you.” You chuckled at him dryly, pulling your wrist from the tight grip of his metal hand. His eyes narrowed as your skin left his grip.

“I don't think you’re a fool.” He said softly, sticking close to you. He refused to let your body move from under his.

“What do you think of me, Mr. Barnes?” Your words were tempting to him. The man was so interested in you. Your soft, airy tone made him want to take you right there, make you feel better than you’ve ever felt here in his arms.

“I think you're the most beautiful woman that has ever graced this world. I think you deserve to be appreciated.” He whispered, moving his face closer to yours so the two of you were nose to nose. “I think you deserve to be pleased. You deserve to be the center of attention. You shouldn't be pushed to the side. You should be his priority. You ought to be worshipped like the absolute fucking goddess you are...” He whispered. His hot, sharp breath hit your face. It was like he was starving for you, like he’d eat you up if you would just give him the chance.

“I...should go...” You breathed out slowly, breaking eye contact with him. You waited silently for him to let go of you until you felt his weight being removed from your body. Immediately, you began to walk away, but he stopped you. His hand wrapped around your forearm, pulling you back to him once more. Your eyes locked again. “I mean it.” He whispered before letting you go.

“I have to go. Goodnight, Sergeant Barnes.”

***

As far as things went for you and for Tony, nothing had changed for the better. If anything, he had gotten worse. You had tried to talk to him about it, hoping that discussing it would mean that he'd make an effort to change. But he didn't. He screamed at you, reminding you that this relationship was completely transactional and nothing else. He yelled at you and made sure you knew that you were nothing more to him than a rebound when Pepper left him.

And then that same night, he was throwing another party at the Avengers compound, expecting you to be there by his side despite all the things he said to you earlier. But that was the last thing you wanted.

You had strayed away from the party, walking towards the training room. You just wanted to punch something, to get all of your frustration out without causing an even bigger fight with Tony.

With you heels kicked off, you stepped into the training room, tossing the expensive stilettos on the ground. Your lips let out a frustrated huff, arms crossing over your chest as you approached the punching bag.

‘The relationship between you and me,’ Tony gestured in between the two of you.

‘It’s nothing special. Stop smothering me. You’re a place holder. I thought you knew that. If you didn't want to be a part of this, you should have said no.’

Remembering the fight you had just had with Tony only made you angrier. You began to punch at the target, letting out annoyed grunts. You looked like you wanted to cry, but you weren't going to let yourself do that. You kept punching at the target until your knuckles were red. You stepped back, proud of the aggression you had managed to get out without hurting anyone. It was then that you heard someone clear their throat behind you.

A gasp fell from your lips as you turned around and found none other than Bucky Barnes.

“Don’t stop on my accord.” He grinned, his eyes scanning your figure. The way your skin moved and bounced softly in your tight party dress as you punched the target made him even hungrier for you.

“Wouldn't dream of it.” You huffed, turning back towards the target.

“It’ll be a more effective hit if you straighten out your stance a bit.” His voice was a few feet away, but in less than a few seconds, you felt his hands on your hips, adjusting them into a better stance. You could feel his body pressed up against yours, holding you close. You didn't expect it, however you made no effort to push him away.

“Why are you in here instead of at the party? I thought you liked parties.” He whispered in your ear, his face pressed up against your hair. He took in your sweet scent, how perfectly your body sunk into his.

“I tried to talk to Tony. He didn't like that very much. I should have never agreed to be his girlfriend. He pisses me off. I feel like I’m trapped here with no one who actually cares about me.” You whispered, giving in to the advances he had been making on you.

“You’re wrong, you know. People do care about you here. You just let yourself get caught up with the wrong guy.” He said softly, letting his hand trail down you hips, resting just over the front of your short skirt. Your breathing grew heavier. He was relentless with his attempts to win your attention. He wanted you to feel the way he knew you deserved to.

“And you're the right guy for me then, huh?” Your words came out sarcastically, but Bucky simply nodded his head, letting out a husky growl in your ear. His lips parted, pressing against the soft skin right beneath you jawline. He started littering your jaw and your neck with the forbidden kisses, feeling you get more tense against his chest.

“When is the last time he’s made it about you, hm? Instead of always making you take care of his needs.” He seemed annoyed by the idea. The thought of you wanting to please him made him weak with desire, but what excited him beyond words was caring for you. He was so thrilled by the idea of having you underneath him, eating up your moans and naughty words as he pushed you to your edge time after time. Such a waste. He was so angry at Tony for letting such a beautiful girl be left on her own.

“Bucky... We can't do this.” You whispered, but as a reward, you were met with his metal hand sliding up you hips, over your chest, and up your neck. He wrapped the metal around your throat, tilting your head up a bit so he could look into your eyes.

“Why not? You deserve to have someone who care for you. You don’t deserve to be pushed off to the side. He doesn’t want you like I do.” He whispered in your ear. He was always so furious with Tony for neglecting you. He wanted you to forget all about Tony and focus on him instead. His hand firmly grabbed the fabric of your skirt, lifting it up slowly. His warm finger tips trailed up your thigh, softly squeezing at the flesh. Your breath became shaky, and he felt it. He felt how small and helpless you became under his body. It made his hunger for you grow.

“You have no idea how many times I have dreamed of this...” He whispered, looking down into your eyes as his hand slid further up under your skirt. He grinned as he saw your eyes flutter closed. Your head would have fallen back had it not been for his tight grip on your throat.

“You want this, don't you? I know you do...” He whispered. Bucky pushed aside your underwear in one quick movement, slipping a finger inside your folds. You felt his chest rumble with laughter, a teasing sort of snicker, as he felt the moisture growing between your legs.

“What a good girl.” His words made you melt completely. Of course you wanted him. You wanted someone to care for you, someone to show you the affection and the attention you deserved. And here he was offering. How could you say no?

“You want this as badly as I do.” He whispered, but you didn't answer. You couldn't. You didn't know what to say. You were frozen there, leaning into his chest. The more he talked, the more your arousal grew.

Bucky started gently rubbing your clit, whispering all the things he desired to do to you in your ear as he worked. He basked in how your moans were all for him. He was fueled by the fact that you were giving into him. He finally had you. He didn't intend to let you go.

Without much of a warning, he pushed one of his fingers inside you, adjusting your stance so you were facing him. He lifted one of your legs up over his waist, holding it there. He began pumping his finger in and out of you, so slowly that it was antagonizing you.

“Bucky...” You whispered. “Someone is going to see us.” You were concerned that someone from the party would walk in and find you in an awfully compromising position with him. He pulled his hand from between your legs, picking you up off of the ground completely. Despite what you said, you wrapped your legs around his waist, holding onto him. He walked to a part of the room that was more concealed, pressing you up against the wall. Your legs stayed around his waist. His metal hand found your throat again, pulling you in closer to him. He pressed his lips against yours, listening to the small hum of contentment that fell out of your lips. He kissed you until your lips were red and swollen.

“Y/N, I have thought about nothing more than pleasing you and making you happy since the day you came here. Please, let me.” He whispered, pressing his forehead against yours. You smiled softly, letting out a breathless laugh.

“To hell with what Tony will do. If you want me, I’m all yours.” You whispered. And that was enough to make him lose his mind over you.

He set you down, prying your legs off of him. Bucky’s hands slid down your curves, squeezing gently here and there. He was in awe of every part of you. You always looked so pretty next to Tony, holding onto him while he showed you off. Now, finally, he had you here. He was ecstatic. In one quick movement, he grabbed the hemline of your dress, pulling the tight, stretchy fabric up over your head. He tossed it aside, taking a moment to admire you. His eyes said it all. The blue pupils that normally looked so soft and inviting were darkened, filled with lust and desire. His eyes trailed over the undergarments that covered you, as if he were trying to memorize your body. Your hands went for his shirt, wanting to pull it off, but he grabbed your wrists as tightly as he could without hurting you.

“Ah ah ah.” He taunted, pinning your wrist up over your head with his metal hand.

“So greedy, doll. Just hold still and let me take care of you, yeah? You can do that for me, can't you?” His tone was husky, making the wetness between your legs grow. You could only nod your head in response, too overwhelmed by everything he was offering you. With his free hand, his caressed your breasts, running his fingers over the soft fabric that kept you covered. He just had to see you completely bare for him. In one quick movement, he ripped the lacy bra right off of your chest. A gasp from your lips followed. What was left of the bra tangled around your arms. He dropped his grip on your hands long enough to pull the bra off of you completely. You mustered a groan seeing one of your favorite bras being torn to shreds, but he only chuckled.

Bucky’s eyes trailed over your breasts. Nipples hardened and perky, just begging for his touch. He licked his lips, in love with the feminine body in front of him. He bent down, capturing your left breast in his mouth. The sound of pure ecstasy that your produced made him grin against your skin. He left wet, sloppy kisses all over your breast, sucking and biting here and there while his hand reached for your other nipple. He knew just how to pinch and twist it. Your back arched off of the wall as you moaned. You stayed there, your wrists above your head, your body vulnerable to him until he let go of your hands altogether. He got down on his knees before you, wrapping his arms around your waist. He pressed kisses against your skin, trailing down your stomach.

“So fucking perfect.” He whispered, his hands reaching for your ass. He kneaded the flesh gently, admiring the smooth skin on your stomach as he kissed it.

“You want this?” He whispered, looking up at you. You looked down breathlessly, a smile coming to your lips. The Winter Soldier, by far one of the strongest men who lived in the compound, large, handsome, and dangerous was here on his knees for you. If nothing else would make you feel empowered, he did.

“Just fuck me, Barnes.” You whispered back, needing more from him. His laughter rumbled against your skin. He left a few more kisses below your navel, just above your hemline of your panties. He grinned, taking the fabric between his teeth. He went teasingly slow as he pulled off your underwear, his hot breath hitting your sensitive, throbbing core. Once he had successfully dragged your panties down to your upper thighs, he ripped them off with his metal arm as far as he could. Your hands gently pulled at the sleeve of his shirt.

“Not fair.” Was all you could muster. He snickered, nodding his head. He finally gave into what you wanted. He wanted you to be comfortable. He pulled off his shirt, groaning as you immediately ran your hands over his arms, admiring the smooth metal of the left and the rippling muscles in his right. You were so distracted admiring him that the quick, harsh lick against your folds caught you off guard. You froze, inhaling sharply as he did it again. All the strength in your legs gave out. You leaned against the wall, grateful for him holding you there to support you. It was only second before he pushed his tongue past your folds and straight into your pussy. He knew he was driving you crazy.

Your hands found his long, brown hair, tugging on it just hard enough that he growled against your sensitive skin. The vibration sent a ripple through your body that made you moan loudly. Bucky lapped up every drop of wetness, but didn't allow you a release. He knew how good it would feel if you could just wait a while.

He stood back up, his hand slipping into your folds once more. His thumb immediately found your clit. He began slowly rubbing it in circles, grinning at how fast your wetness returned.

“Such a good girl.” He whispered, praising you for your behavior. He smiled at the small mewl of pleasure that fell from your lips. He knew this was something you hadn't had in a long time. How could Tony just neglect you when you were so perfect? He went on rubbing your core, slipping one, then two fingers inside you to stretch you a bit so you’d be ready for him. This was what he had wanted for longer than he cared to remember. It made him feel elated to know you wanted it just as badly.

“Doll, are you ready for me?” He asked, getting a small nod from you, but it wasn't good enough. He pulled his fingers out of your dripping folds, smiling at you.

“I need you to put your pretty mouth to good use and use your words, sweetheart.” He whispered. You opened your eyes that you clamped closed only moments ago. The pleasure was overwhelming. It was something Tony never gave you. As your gaze set upon him again, you found him sucking your arousal off of his fingers, his smirk growing at your hazy eyes.

“Please... I’m ready.” Was all you could whisper. With his metal arm, he scooped you up, your legs reattaching around his waist. With his other hand, he unbuckled his belt and pulled out his cock.

“Tell me if you need me to slow down.” He whispered, kissing your forehead. He broke his lustful stare for just a moment, offering you the tender care you so desperately wanted. You couldn't help but smile, your eyes filling with determination as the lust returned to his. You didn't look down, but you could feel his size as he pushed himself inside you inch by inch. He held you tightly between his body and the wall, throwing head back as you took him all. Your body grew tense, appreciating the moment he gave you to adjust. But it didn't last long. You knew how badly he wanted this. Waiting much longer didn't seem like much of an option.

Bucky began to move slowly at first, small movements. But it lasted for just seconds before he began to speed up his thrusts. He’d pull so far out that when he rammed himself back in, it sent a tingle up your spine each time he moved.

“Oh god, Bucky... don't stop.” You would whisper to him. The pleads, the dirty things, and curse you whispered in his ear fueled him with more desire than he knew what to do with. He switched hands, supporting you with his flesh hand while his metal hand reclaimed it’s place around your throat. He kept going, grinning at you.

“Who is making you feel this good?” He growled, squeezing your neck a bit tighter. He didn't care if you were Tony’s girl. Like you said, it was transactional. But this, between you and him, he’d make sure lasted a long, long time. He wanted it to be real.

“Y-You, Buck.” You whispered, clenching around him as you focused on your upcoming release.

“That’s fucking right.” He grunted out as he felt your walls clench around him. He knew what you needed.

“Come on, doll. Cum.” He whispered, giving you the permission and encouragement to have your release. Your arms wrapped around his neck, your fingers becoming entangled in his brown hair. You began to pull at it gently as you finally came. He kept moving quickly inside you, holding himself back so he could help you milk your release for every last, delicious drop.

“Holy... fuck.” Bucky whispered as one of your hands slid down his chest and into his pants. Your hand softly stroked him as he would slide out and then back in. Your touch drove him mad. He pulled out quickly as he released, the warm liquid hitting your stomach instead. You both stayed as you were for longer than you realized, trying to catch your breath. He stared at your face, smiling softly as you finally met his eyes.

“I think...” Your voice trailed off, exhausted. He raised his brows, patiently awaiting your words.

“I think there is no way I’m going back to the party.” You whispered. The man before you chuckled, pressing a kiss against your lips.

“Good. Then we’re not done, sweetheart.” He gently smacked your ass, listening to you giggle softly. It was a sound he always longed to hear come out of your mouth. He knew this was real. He knew the sound couldn't be bought.

A/N:

This was really long. I hope y'all enjoyed it! Leave me requests!

I am posting this in my wattpad one shots book and on my Tumblr!

wattpad: gloriouslyburdened

Tumblr: gently-sins-d

#bucky x reader #bucky fic #bucky barns x you #bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky smut

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roseapothecary · 3 years

Photo

I’m posting this several hours past the deadline, but it’s okay bc I posted a single bingo a couple days ago (so that one counts). This has been an incredible fest! It’s my first EVER as a member of this fandom and I’ve enjoyed all of the wonderful, creative stories that came out of it... not to mention, I really enjoyed writing the three that I contributed myself! Thank you to the mods for organizing this, and to all of you that submitted work.

I decided to come back and fill out a full bingo card with recs.

The one line I did before just wasn’t enough.

... And, this time, I’m going to properly gush. 🥰

Featuring Art: you know what they say: better late than never

This is literally so fucking pure.

Rare Ships: everyday the hold is getting tighter (and it troubles me so)

Do Ruth/Stevie count as a rare ship? They’re not ~technically canon, so I’m counting it. This piece is REALLY sweet and features one of my favorite tropes (“there’s only one bed!!”)

Character Archetypes: breaking open the game

This is a GORGEOUS exploration of Patrick’s experience as a queer athlete.

Alexis’ POV: Rollin' With the Homies

YA’LL. This fic tho. Like. Not only does Alexis’s POV really shine when read through this lens, it also blends so well with Cher’s tone that it’s... like... It’s perfect. It’s the perfect mashup. The author’s choice to write it in first-person was a boss move and I read the entire thing in Alexis’s actual voice in my head. AND TWYLEXIS KISS IN DISNEYLAND? COME. ON.

Audio/Podfic: [Podfic] Never Felt This Way Before

This is one of my favorites from @schittposting, given new life. Such a beautiful transformation of an already beautiful fic.

Patrick’s POV: What's New Pussycat?

There are literally no words to explain this. David is a cat. Literally. I never realized how on brand that would be, but... dude, David Rose is a cat.

Less Than 2k: lost mittens and dryer lint

Not only did this lead me into a spiral watching the original House Hippo advert and reading about that whole thing (fucking fascinating), it also had me giggling and smiling. So cute.

Romantic Tropes: You Look Like a Movie, You Sound Like a Song

SUCH a unique take on rom-com tropes and David’s love for them. I can’t say much more without spoiling the magic of it because it truly is an original concept. Just... take my word for it. Read it.

Set in SC: Budd is a dud! Vote Sands.

Love, love, love this view of Stevie/Twyla’s relationship. There’s a great mix of comedy, romance, and general sweetness.

Over 20k: I Waited My Whole Life

I mean, I love weddings and this has SEVERAL of them, so obviously it’s gonna be on my rec list. It’s a great story and a beautiful ride, from beginning to end. There’s a great balance of comedy and fluff... and tbh the banter? [chef’s kiss]

Fantasy and Fandom Tropes: Captive on the carousel of time

There is so much to love about this fic. Seeing David and Patrick from Twyla’s perspective is absolutely adorable, for one, and Twyla’s perspective IN GENERAL is delightful. There’s also a time-loop AND Stevie/Twyla.

Canon-Compliant: to the end of reckoning

This is a cool take on Patrick and Ronnie’s dynamic and I’ve frankly accepted it as part of my personal head-canon. It’s so spot on.

Free Space: More Than a Bird

At no point in my life did I think, “You know who would make a great superhero? David Rose.” Then I read this, and I haven’t stopped thinking... You know who would make a great superhero? David Fucking Rose. It’s a great exploration of his character and Patrick’s character... and also David’s familial dynamic with Stevie and Alexis. I would read another 20k of this, to be totally honest with ya’ll.

Free Space honorable mention: Make a Wish

Okay, I couldn’t choose between this one and the above one for my free space, so you’re getting both. I fucking love this concept and how the author incorporated the rings into the genie mythos... and the mythos the author created in general for how genies work? The Aladdin references were lovely, but there’s also a fresh, original sorta vibe. And the background of HOW David ended up a genie in the first place is just... gold. Such a good story overall.

Platonic Tropes: Gonna Watch You Shine

Johnny and Stevie are family now. 🥺

That’s it. That’s all you need to know. Read it.

Rare POV: didn’t ask for this--you freely gave it (so now i watch your mouth for both of us)

This fic takes you on the journey of Twyla and Alexis’s relationship over the course of the show through Twyla’s eyes and it’s stunning.

Based on a Movie: Taste of a Poison Paradise

It’s Alexis as Harley Quinn. Do I need to say more? This is so so good. I love ALL of the author’s choices re: character alter egos. Rachel as Black Canary? Stevie as Catwoman? STEVIE/RACHEL??? And, obvi, the Twylexis of it all. My favorite part (and why it gets this bingo slot) is the way Alexis’s thought bubbles actually made their way into the text, ala Harley’s voiceovers in Birds of Prey. It worked really really well.

David’s POV: Flying Coach

Genuinely a fucking delight. David’s characterization here is flawless, first of all, and... honestly, whoever you are, author person... I’d really like to see what happens next in Paris. So, if you could get on that, that would be great. [David Rose voice] Thanks so much.

Multiple Tropes: You Happened

High school David/Patrick and Stevie/Twyla? Sign me the fuck up. This is one of my favorite takes on the “David works at Rose Video” concept (which is already one of my fave SC tropes), and it seamlessly folds in so many different nods to canon. It’s sweet and it’s funny and it’s angsty and it’s just a lot. It’s so good.

Canadian Tropes: Close Encounters of the Alces Kind

This had me giggling basically the entire time. Who wouldn’t love a text-based fic about a moose? ...David, probably... but that’s it.

Featuring Music: favored nations

I will never shut up about this fic for as long as I fucking live. I’m literally tearing up writing this stupid little rec and thinking about it. David’s whole story with his galleries translates SO well into what the author set up for him here... and humble!famous Patrick is just Correct in every way. It’s a brilliant, brilliant AU... and tbh? I wish David and Patrick were real so they could actually create this play together. I’d love to see it.

Set Outside SC: how it's gonna always be

This one stole my heart. It’s SO beautifully written, first of all, and it’s a great story. Both David and Patrick have the habit of running from their problems, but it’s with each other that they finally dive in headfirst. Also, y’know, the fic is 🔥🔥🔥.

WLW Fic: If You Could See The Other Side Of Me

This had me fucking cackling. By now, ya’ll know how much Stevie/Alexis mean to me and dksvjioehgo dude this take is just... [chef’s kiss]. The author even wrote lyrics. Like. That ALONE sends this fic to the next fucking level. Quebecky Stan 4 Lyfe.

Stevie’s POV: In the Running

Another take on the “Stevie and Twyla compete for a council seat” prompt. I loved how this brought out their competitive sides. A delight.

Multiple Chapters: four four four two

SOFT!!! ALSO THERE ARE BAKED GOODS!!! AND INCREDIBLY FLIRTATIOUS NOTES!!! AND PEEK-A-BOO STEVIE/RUTH TOO!

Gen Fic: The Guestbook of David and Patrick Rose-Brewer

The voices are so spot on. Just. So perfect. I wish I could hear the actors read this.

#fic rec #tropefest #schitt's creek fic rec

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buddha-in-disguise · 4 years

Text

This is how it's done

Episode 5.15 at last.

While the emphasis has been on Nia's story in this episode, the synopsis made it clear Alex, Kelly and J'onn had a secondary storyline running as well. So again we were eager to watch knowing they were finally getting more than a token few minutes together.

Did it deliver?

Oh hell yes.

You just have to look on Twitter to see the praise being heaped on it by fans.

But first let's get the elephant in the room out of the way. William.

The opening sequence as Kara is fighting with Nia, and Nia has to be the one reminding Kara she has a date? Already covered by me and others, but to reiterate: that does not give a vibe of someone excited to be going on a first date. You can't even use the excuse of her mind was on the fight, because so was Nia's.

As to Kara at her apartment with Alex prior to the date?

Those words, "Cancel it for me."

Lets say (for arguments sake) it is nerves again speaking. Maybe it is, but that she is even having those thoughts? That she completely forgot about the 1st date, and needed reminding? If Kara can't get invested in the date, how are the audience expected to become invested?

As for the date itself. Kara arrives.... having been told by Alex to wear the blue top because .... well reasons .... and she is wearing the purple? So, not wanting to go with the best look then?

I didn't mind the date per se, although I did wonder if Kara was simply trying to not show pool skills, because I can't believe for a second, with Alex as a sister, and the control Kara now has on her powers (worry over lack of control would be the only other reason for her hesitation that I can think of), Kara hasn't been pulled into playing many times.

Did I get a date vibe? No. I felt more bonding yes (like why has it taken until now to even vaguely have that much), but date? Nope. Still not feeling it. If any of the above was a one off instance, you could shrug it off. But all of them? Sorry but as I say, if Kara isn't that invested in a first date, then we can't be expected to be as invested. However, that isn't to say that William annoyed me. In truth having him more on the sidelines was a relief as it finally allowed others to get some much needed screen time.

The Nia storyline.

This is obviously one extremely close to me, as my husband is transgender, and we have other family who are also transgender.

Nicole's input was definitely felt. Some of the lines she spoke were ones we have said ourselves almost word for word.

This is a topic that is one I've been extremely vocal about, and one in particular I have spoken about (in the William and Kara at CatCo scene) is the figures for transgender people killed in the last year alone in the USA, but more importantly that this number is likely not a true representation as many who die are misgendered after death.

It was so important to show just how bad for the transgender community it is. And no, it wouldn't necessarily be a fact Kara would know. Even those in the LGBTQ community aren't always aware of these figures. As for William being the one stating the figures back to Kara, again in the context I had no qualms about it. In fact having a CIS straight man write the piece and be a supportive ally is an important message in it's own right. I was worried that wouldn't come across, but I felt it did.

If ever there was a line that spoke volumes in this weeks Supergirl episode it was this:

"They want us to be invisible because of their own fears, they want to erase us so...... we need to shine even brighter." - Nia Nal

And shine Nicole Maines (and Roxy Wood, because the additional line about being a Black transgender woman - take my heart, stomp over it, then expect me to function), did. Both deserve so much praise on the way they delivered their performances.

I genuinely cried at some of this weeks episode, because the experiences have been ones we have faced as a transgender household. Being white does afford us a privilege that Black transgender people (especially the women) don't have. But as I say, it has been something I've been vocal about for a long time.

Lastly Kara and Nia on the balcony. Holy mother of god (or goddess), tears. Again. Nicole and Melissa once again were so good it felt like a punch to the gut. Kara wiping that tear off Nia's cheek. Big ugly sobbing from me. Gah! Just ....

Now Alex and Kelly. While I'm still craving a nice intimate atmosphere at home with them, having had so little of Dansen (and Kelly) it was a relief that for once Kelly wasn't given diminished screentime. Not only that, she was instrumental in helping Alex navigate through the VR world.

Alex having that PTSD flashback to being in the tank. Whoa, finally acknowledging it affected her and obviously still does. I loved how Kelly is so good at helping Alex maintain her equilibrium. You could tell it wasn't just because of her training or profession, but as a girlfriend who knows and understands how to communicate to Alex in that moment of stress, much like Alex was able to realise Malefic was manifesting as Kelly in the earlier part of the season, simply because she knew her girlfriend well enough.

Watching Alex train to get used to the Martian weapon, felt very reminiscent of S1 where Alex was training Kara early on. It was good to see her off balance for once in her training, as she has always shown a confidence in her ability until now. For those who complain she brought up wanting to be back at the DEO, as someone who has heavy military presence in our family (for at least 4 generations on my maternal side), I can safely say, going from military (and remember the DEO is recognised and spoken about in canon as being a military operation), and suddenly and unexpectedly thrown back into civilian life is one heck of an adjustment. It's an adjustment for most even when they know it's coming. To be so abrupt, so unexpected? Alex is going to want that structure back, and have that support around her. It is absolutely not unrealistic for her to feel this way or to talk about it. I would've been more surprised if she hadn't.

"And this is my gun."

Alex giving no crap. The whole rescue sequence was a joy to watch.

If I had a complaint, as I mentioned, I would've loved just a moment of real quiet intimacy between Kelly and Alex. We've barely seen anything of that sort. I hope we get something next episode (which also looks amazing from the trailer).

I could go through the episode and pick up so many times on how good it was. It was so much, I know I will have forgotten something I wanted to say. But I'm exhausted (almost no sleep will do that to you, damn being in the UK and these stupid o'clock viewing times), and it was so much to unpack.

Brainy, was barely in the episode but damn, so lovely (& heartbreaking) to see him give the information to the NCPD to help against transphobic attacks.

Onto a side plot, but finally we have more about Leviathan.

Leviathan have those bodies suspended.

What if William dies in 5.19 and becomes one of those suspended bodies for 5.20 or was supposed to, as Nicole mentioned on her Instagram story they still had scenes to film, and a couple were pretty amazing? With Staz back, would it have involved him, possibly as a sleeper agent? I've touted this idea before. While I would prefer that a MOC isn't cast into being a bad guy again, or killed off, I would more than happily see him simply go back to London and The Times. But I guess we wait to see what happens there.

But if, like Russell in 5a, he becomes an unwitting agent of Leviathan & a bad guy, cue fight scene, possibly in a VR setting? Maybe? Who knows.

Last but by no means least - they killed off Jeremiah. Since we're not entirely sure if Cadmus operated in the same way on Earth Prime as they did on Earth 38, we don't yet know the circumstances behind his death.

Will we get more explanation about it? Honestly I'm not overly bothered unless it helps serve a current storyline. Merely because episode numbers are running out, and it does at least bring us closure on his character one way or another. Something a lot of us have questioned for so long now.

As for complaints, the only ones expressing any real disappointment have been fans who have either regularly attacked other fans (especially those of in the SC or Dansen fandoms), or the outright transphobic users (I won't call them fans), who as the episode makes clear, are everywhere. The transphobes come out in force everytime with Nicole, so it isn't a surprise to see them again. As Nia says, it what transgender people face on a daily basis.

Plus with no Lena in the episode, it helps show that fans didn't need a Lena/Kara centric episode for this to garner such positive reactions, particularly from the LGBTQ fans. In some ways, as many have been saying (yes even SC fans), this Lena drama has long since gone by its sell by date and not having Lena once more stuck in her laboratory wasn't missed. And god, I say this as a huge Lena fan. I still want her on screen of course, but we need progression on what is happening with her. Both Lex and Lena have felt stale of late, and while I know it changes as we get into the last few episodes, I can truly say neither was missed this time. And before anyone jumps in, no this isn't bashing SC (I still ship both Dansen and SC, as well as Brainia), or saying SC shouldn't happen, or Lena is evil, or not needed. I don't think that at all. I merely am getting tired of a merry-go-round on Lena in her laboratory that we've had of late, & the only interaction has been with Lex. Time to break her out of that cell!

I don’t know what they were putting in the water in Vancouver when they did the Batwoman and Supergirl episodes this week, but they both had me simultaneously laughing & crying! It looked ugly for a minute there.

Both were outstanding episodes.

As much as I've had my criticism over some of this season, when Supergirl get it right like they did here, they soar! This was one of my top episodes for the entire series.

And despite all the news in the world right now, Supergirl trended on Twitter again.

Gif courtesy of @ Daily_danvers on Twitter.

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cosmicjoke · 3 years

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Another interesting and heartbreaking thing to consider, I think, is how just... depressed Levi looks all throughout the final arc of SnK. And I was wondering what it was that was contributing to his obvious grief. Part of it is just the messed up nature of everything that was going on, with Eren turning into what he did, the overthrow of the military by the Yeagerist’s, all the death and destruction. Another part, though, that I don’t think I’ve seen brought up, is Levi’s own sense of guilt in having let Zeke get away, and how that led to him making contact with Eren, which set off the Rumbling.

This wasn’t Levi’s fault, at all, but he probably still felt horribly responsible for it, because he didn’t kill Zeke when he had the chance. It’s doubly awful, because Levi genuinely believed he was making the right choice in keeping Zeke alive and bringing him back to the Capital. I think the weight of that choice must have been weighing heavily on him throughout the final arc, and everything that happened with the Rumbling, so much death and destruction, etc... Levi just looks so terribly resigned and SAD throughout the entire thing. Part of it also must be a sense of futility, in how hard he, and all the SC members fought to win their freedom, to protect Eren and keep him alive because they all genuinely believed he was their greatest hope, only for it to come to this, them chasing Eren across the world in a desperate attempt to stop him from destroying almost all of humanity. All those sacrifices, all those friends lost, all those soldiers dead to keep Eren safe, only for them to be forced into a position where Eren had become their enemy. I think this must have been incredibly painful for all of them, but Levi’s entire demeanor throughout this arc, the really, deeply HURT expression on his face throughout, tells me he must have been more deeply affected by it all than anyone.

The thing about Levi is, he’s such an idealist. It’s a weird thing to say, because he’s also extremely jaded from the hard experiences of his life. But he wants and strives so ardently to believe in a better future, a better world, a freer world. And it must have seemed to him then that it was all crashing down around him, all those hopes and dreams. It must have felt to him like it had all been for naught, all those lives lost. And there’s nothing worse to Levi than people dying for no reason at all. So I think that must have been just pure torture for him, having to witness all of their efforts culminating in such a devastating betrayal by someone who had been a friend and an ally, and such horrific destruction of human life.

When Levi says at the end “I guess this is the result of all your dedicated hearts”, and we see him crying, I think part of that too is Levi probably feeling an awful uncertainty as to whether any of it had been worth it. All his friends are dead. All of the other veterans. He’s alone. The other SC members are all reuniting with their loved ones, they have a shared, long history together, their friends are, more or less, still alive. But everyone Levi had held a history with is gone, Hange being the last to go. Levi makes a point throughout the entire series of saying that he never knows if the choices he makes are the right ones, and how he tries to make them with no regrets, despite that not knowing. Here, I think he must be struggling with whether all his choices leading up to this moment were choices he can live with, without feeling regret. I think the sad looks of his dead comrades in the vision that he has are also reflective of this. They see Levi’s struggle here, and his pain. They know the burden he now must carry, as the sole survivor from among them, thus making him the sole custodian of their memories, and the sole representative of what it is they all fought and stood for. Levi always tries so hard to do the right thing, because he cares so deeply, and has so much compassion for other people. Levi’s aim was always to try and prevent as much death as he could, to take whatever road he could that would prevent further death, protect and better the lives of the most people, to save humanity, at first, from the Titans, and then later, to save the people of Paradis from being destroyed by the rest of the world. Even when it meant sullying himself and resorting to sometimes violent means, as long as it would help more people live, then he could do it. For it then to come to a situation where one of their own goes on a genocidal attack, killing the vast majority of the rest of the world, it must have been like Levi’s worst nightmare coming true. It just must have been really hard for him, sitting alone among the rubble of mass destruction that Eren had caused, to hold on to his belief in their cause. He believed still in the sacrifices of his comrades, and their dedication to that cause, but he must have struggled with whether, in the end, their dedication and sacrifices had been worth it. It’s just such a sad thing. Because Levi was fighting all this time for humanity, for the survival of humanity, for humanities freedom and right to live, and in the end, so many ended up dying anyway.

#attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #Levi Ackerman

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benisasoftboi · 4 years

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Unorganised thoughts on Trails in the Sky: Second Chapter:

Unorganised thoughts on the first game are here

No longer spoiler-free, sorry

So tl;dr I loved this game and I love these characters and this world and I’m so excited to play through the whole rest of the series. What an underrated gem

I liked that everyone’s status portraits were updated, FC’s were a little rough. Except Olivier’s - his original art is miles better, good lord. The updated one is so generic :(

Speaking of updates, here’s some on how I feel about the major characters:

Estelle: Estelle deserves the world. I love her and her development, she’s just so great. What I especially love is that I cannot think of any other JRPG hero I’ve seen who reacts to the villain’s grand monologue like she does. Most of the time it’s like, huge declarations of justice, and how evil will never win, but Estelle’s reaction to Weissmann ranting about the inherent evil of man was just, like, ‘nah, actually that’s stupid, I love my friends and we’re all nice people. You just suck dude’. And that works so well, and it was really refreshing, honestly. I just... love her. I really love her.

Joshua: This poor traumatised boy who also deserves the world, my god. His backstory was so much darker than I was expecting (if I understood right, there were some implications that sexual assaults occurred in the Hamel massacre!? And that it nearly happened to his sister!? Which made me have to sit back for a moment because I did not think this game was gonna go there and it threw me for a loop). I like how his whole arc is about learning to not define himself by his trauma, I haven’t really seen that in a game before. I also love him.

I think Estelle and Joshua cute together and I support their romance, but if the game could stop reminding me post-get together that they used to be pseudo-siblings that would be great thank you

Agate: I did the Agate route mostly because I prefer using him in combat, and goddamn if I thought I liked him before. I think his arc is one of the best in the game, and I love him, and are you seeing a pattern? His friendship with Tita is also so sweet. I want to be friends with Agate

Schera: Might have had more to say if I’d done her route. I appreciated getting her backstory, and I thought her relationship with Luciola was well done, if not incredibly fascinating. As it stands, I like her just fine, even if I’m not as passionate about her as I am some of the others

Olivier: I still love this guy. I had his twist spoiled, but let’s face, it wasn’t the hardest to guess anyway. His rivalry with Bleublanc was funny, as are most of his interactions with other characters. He’s good comic relief in general, and I love using him in combat - on that note, though, I’m very angry with him for leaving in chapter 8, because he was the character I had invested the most into arts-wise, so I had to go fix up Schera just for that chapter (and then swapped to Zin as we lost ZFGs, for obvious reasons). I will say that he seems to have become a little more... creepy feels like a strong word, but I don’t think he was so forwardly suggestive in FC. It felt to me like he sort of went from Yusuke Kitagawa to Yosuke Hanamura, in a sense. But all the same, I still like him

He should have stayed in his prince look at the end though, it suits him better

Side note, I really love Mueller, and I love his and Olivier’s interactions, and I want more Mueller, why does he have to be a minor character :(

Kloe: So I wasn’t super into Kloe in FC, but I actually really loved her this time around - I thought her arc about deciding whether or not to accept the crown was well done, and the little conversation she and Estelle can have on the stage at the academy is one of my favourite scenes in both games. Also GOOD LORD do I love her outfit change at the end, she’s so pretty I want to cry

Tita: Most of what I like about Tita is her friendship with Agate, and also how smart she is. I’d probably have more to say about her if I ever used her beyond when the plot forces me to (I don’t like using glass cannon characters in games), as the unfortunate nature of SC is that you don’t get much dialogue if you’re benched. But yeah, I still like her as a character

Zin: I don’t dislike Zin, but I still find him kind of dull compared to the others. He’s fine, he’s there, he’s got a backstory with Walter and Kilika and that’s neat. Honestly the main thing I remember about all that is Zin revealing that their master had terminal cancer because I kind of just... didn’t think cancer existed in this universe, I guess. It threw me

Kevin: Firstly, I find it really, really funny that such an important and mysterious character who looks the way he does is named ‘Kevin’. But yeah, I like Kevin, I’m excited to learn more about him in 3rd. I liked his relationship with Estelle (It’s nice to see a guy who’s capable of backing off without being an ass about it. Shame there’s such a low bar). I am, though, honestly very creeped out by the mere concept of the Gralsritters, ngl

Bleublanc and Campanella were easily my favourite Enforcers. Bleublanc especially gets points for keeping himself relevant for the entire game

Renne is a character who I think I’m probably meant to feel more sympathy for than I actually do, to be honest. You can’t make me like someone just by making them a cute little girl, Falcom, I’m sorry. Maybe I’ll feel differently after playing 3rd, I know she’s in it

I thought Loewe was well handled and I love that scene where he and Joshua hug at the end

I love the Ravens. I love that they got actual art. They’re amazing. I would play an entire spin-off game about the Ravens

And the Capuas! Can they all team up? Please?

Especially Josette, I came to really like her

A thing I’ve kind of realised about this game and its characters is that it’s a really good example of how tropes and cliches are not inherently bad - everyone in this game is based on some kind of mostly-unsubverted cliche, but they are incredibly well-executed cliches. You can have the most original characters in the world, but if they’re not written well, then what’s the point? I think a lot of writers conflate ‘unique’ and ‘surprising’ and (ugh) ‘subverting expectations’ with ‘good’. This game doesn’t make that mistake, and I appreciate that

Don’t get me wrong, unique and surprising and expectation subverting is also not inherently bad - just that it’s all in the execution

I like that Richard came back! And reformed! To be honest, though, (maybe this is controversial? idk), I thought he was a better antagonist than anyone in Ouroboros. His motivations made a lot more sense than those of most of the Enforcers

Honestly (excluding Renne and Campanella because those haven’t been fully revealed to me yet) Bleublanc was really the only one with a motivation I liked - I can respect a villain who does crimes just for the sake of being an asshole

Oh yeah, there’s also Anelace and her team - they’re all great. I would like to know more about Grant, he doesn’t get to do much

The side quest in chapter 8 at the academy where we get Kurt and Anelace is one of the best quests in the game

Oh, and that reminds me, Gilbert! I love Gilbert, he’s so lame. Fighting him is hilarious

I was very happy to see minor NPC Clive on the Arseille at the end. It’s what he deserves

I love that this game got me invested in the lives of the random NPCs

Screw that Abyss Worm bounty hunt, and also that fight with Renne on Ambryl Tower

I don’t know whose idea it was to fill this game, in this setting, with GIANT ROBOTS but it grew on me and I kind of love it now

I’ve decided Ruan is my favourite region, but Rolent is my favourite city

The Liber Ark is such a cool setting, I’m sad we only saw a tiny part of it for one chapter

I knew they weren’t going to kill off Joshua and Estelle, but I still cannot describe the rush of relief I felt when the dragon saved them at the end. I care about these kids, damnit!

There’s that one section in Grancel where everyone’s talking about Crossbell and then it never comes up again - set up the next arc of games a little less subtly, why don’t you?

(And then Cassius being like ‘the adventures will continue! But with other people!”)

I read all of The Doll Knight and I genuinely enjoyed it

This game has maybe the best end credits I’ve ever seen

...think that’s all my thoughts expunged! Now to play 3rd :D

#trails in the sky #trails series #trails in the sky sc #trails in the sky: second chapter #long post

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sweetlangdon · 5 years

Text

Reckoning: Part Five (Michael Langdon x Reader)

Notes: AU of the Outpost plot of Apocalypse. A Gray accidentally finds Michael while he’s performing the ritual. Things take an interesting turn.

Warnings: Blood, violence, murder, all the usual stuff you’ve come to expect from this fic.

Word Count: 5.0k

You can find the previous parts here.

Her dreams were filled with Hellfire and devils and a world ravaged by the darkness. She heard it whispering to her as she slept, voices that seemed so much closer, so much clearer once she’d taken Langdon’s knife in that blood-soaked room. In her dreams, the sky was scarlet, a fire left burning. Everything else had drowned in ash and smoke except for the heap of bodies. They were pale, nearly withered away to bones. Left in twisted, macabre shapes with blood running from the corners of their mouths.

But she knew their faces. Every single one.

The Outpost, a hulking, black shape, loomed over them, awash in gold and orange from the fires. And then there was Langdon—impossibly, frustratingly perfect, dark and immaculate all at once. Not a drop of blood on him, not a speck of dirt on his clothes. She’d been distracted by the way the wind stirred his hair. His eyes were two deep pools of obsidian, an unforgiving black. And then he was moving toward her, dust and sand and ash swirling around his shoes, every movement more graceful than the last.

And he was grinning at her. That slow, arrogant crooked grin that took a while to curve his lips, the one that she tried to tell herself she hated. His molten black gaze drifted from her eyes to her hand as he closed the distance between. She hadn’t noticed it, the knife clutched in her fist, the crimson dripping from her fingers that didn’t belong to her.

But he did. Of course he did, because Langdon knew everything. Knew whatever darkness was locked away deep inside her soul. Knew what it took to coax it out and set it free.

And it was beginning to scare her, how much she wanted it.

His long fingers wrapped around hers still gripping the knife. His knife. Her breath hitched as his knuckles brushed her hair. He took her face in his hand, his thumb tracing the swell of her cheek. Langdon’s grin widened, and she decided that the abyss in his eyes wasn’t so horrifying anymore.

But he could keep the fucking snakes.

“Chaos becomes you,” Langdon whispered. A low growl that rumbled through her bones like thunder. Cataclysmic.

She’d been afraid the first time he told her that—terrified and angry and attracted, which seemed to be a package deal when it came to the fucking Antichrist. And now, once she heard the words echo through her thoughts, filling up her dreams, whispered against her skin in the blazing red light of the apocalypse, she believed it. She felt it, as real as she felt him.

And damn, if it didn’t feel good.

The knife slipped from her fingers when he kissed her. She barely heard the metallic thud of the blade dropping into the dirt, so lost in his touch. Langdon drew her to him, holding her face in the searing warmth of his hands, his rings lightly grazing her skin. He held her with a needy desperation that she didn’t expect. She forgot about the blood coating her hands, too eager to taste the chaos on his tongue.

There was scarlet where she traced the sharp lines of his jaw up to his cheekbones, wherever her fingers tangled into his silken hair. When he parted from her, she brushed her thumb along his lower lip before his head dipped toward her throat. And then she couldn’t hear anything else, nothing but his ragged, panting breath against her neck and the moan that echoed when he left a trail of kisses down to her collarbone. His lips were soft, but every time they swept across her skin, it felt like an inferno. He’d set her soul alight and now she needed him to stoke the flames, to keep that wildfire burning. Langdon smelled of smoke and darker things she couldn’t name—some kind of ancient power that tinged the air around them.

She didn’t care what the hell it was. She wanted it.

And if Langdon wanted chaos, she’d give it to him.

***

She was unceremoniously awoken by someone jostling her shoulder.

It wasn’t pleasant. It was actually so goddamn irritating that she tried to shove them away while still holding tight to sleep. Even after she’d groaned and swore loudly, rolling over on her paltry cot to escape, her fellow Gray shoved nearly her entire body weight into her shoulder. The Gray was lucky she wasn’t awake yet, otherwise she would’ve found herself sprawled on the floor. Her reflexes used to be quicker; it hadn’t mattered back then if she was half-asleep. For whatever reason, some of those survival instincts had worn off while they’d been trapped in this miserable pit.

“Fuck off.”

“You have to wake up.” Her roommate—whose name she always forgot despite the two of them spending eighteen months together in servitude—sounded completely done with her shit. “You can’t oversleep. I mean, it’s your business if you want Venable to starve you again, but I wouldn’t try her patience.”

“She can fuck off, too.” The long-suffering groan was muffled into her pillow until her fingers closed around the knife resting under it. Her muscles tensed. She’d almost forgotten about Langdon’s knife. “All right…I’m getting up. Stop hovering.”

If she had to guess, she’d gotten a few hours of sleep, but it didn’t feel like it.

Letting go of the knife’s sleek hilt, she made sure it was still safely hidden. There wasn’t any way to carry it around without her roommate noticing, so she pulled the blanket up over her pillow and hoped that the Gray didn’t get nosy while she was off doing the day’s chores. Her roommate eyed her, a mix of suspicion with a noticeable smugness that she didn’t really care for. She dressed quickly in a new, clean uniform without saying a word, trying to shake the last of the stubborn grogginess from her limbs.

Her heart slammed against her ribs when she saw Langdon’s coat tucked away in her wardrobe, the black striking among the drab shades of gray and white. She took a fistful of the fabric, gently, almost reverently, fingertips settling against the red silk lining. Something had been left in one of the inside pockets. Her thumb caught the edge of it, and with a little careful, discreet maneuvering, she found the clear vial of white pills Langdon had shown to the Outpost. The pills, he’d said, that would cause a painful but quick death.

Careless wasn’t his style. They’d been acquainted for about twenty-four hours if she had to guess, but after seeing him up close, she realized he never did anything without a reason.

Damn it, Langdon. What kind of fucked up nonsense is this? She stashed them in one of the extra pairs of shoes at the bottom of her wardrobe as she heard the approach of her roommate’s footsteps.

The weak, golden light from their fireplace tossed strange shadows onto both of them. She listened to the drumming of her pulse in her ears. It wouldn’t quiet down.

“You talk in your sleep, you know.” The Gray folded her arms over her chest. She hated the smug grin that pulled at one corner of her roommate’s mouth. That amount of arrogance wasn’t attractive on anyone—except, maybe, for Langdon. With the population of the world blown to hell, he practically had it trademarked.

It had been too late to hide the coat.

Well, now I’m completely fucked.

She squeezed her eyes shut. “No.”

“Well, you do.”

She was positive her fellow Gray had seen the coat before she tried to tuck it back between her uniforms and sparse personal belongings. More than enough time for her to catch the scent of something to throw into the Outpost’s rumor mill. It was the only form of cheap entertainment the Grays had to pass the time. Part of the reason why things spread so fast around here was her hawkish gaze and penchant for eavesdropping. Her interests usually involved tearing apart the Purples—and after catering to their every goddamn need, she had to admit it was cathartic—but if her roommate figured out that was Langdon’s coat…

She’d be the first casualty of the Grays. They’d rip her to fucking shreds.

…But would their jealousy be such a bad thing? She’d never been on the receiving end of anyone else’s envy. Maybe it was petty as fuck, but she had to admit that maybe it would be fun for once.

“Sounds like you and Langdon—”

She looked up sharply, eyebrows knit together. “Sounds like it’s none of your business.”

“You don’t have to get defensive,” her roommate answered. But the smugness was still there, and fuck, it annoyed her. “I doubt you’re the only person who’s fantasized about Langdon since he got here. I mean, have you seen the way Gallant looks at him?”

Actually, she’d forgotten about Gallant. But her roommate had a point. Langdon liked to sow chaos, liked to play with people’s minds. She had proof of that now. What would stop him from fucking with all of them? Was she just another pawn to him, a complete dumbass charmed by a pretty face and the allure of doing whatever the hell she wanted without consequence?

How could she trust any interest he’d shown in her as genuine?

“Whatever,” she replied. “It was just a dream.”

An omen or a prophecy? Hell if she knew.

“Oh, I don’t think it was just anything,” her roommate persisted. “Care to share? Come on, I thought you would’ve been dying to spill the details—”

She scowled. Yeah, like your bloody corpse thrown in a pile of bodies.

“I’m really not.”

The creak of the door’s hinges saved her from her roommate’s interrogation. Neither of them had heard the tap of Venable’s cane until she appeared at the threshold of their shared room. She wore a frown as severe as her hair, the cloud of perpetual disappointment following in her wake along with a sense of impending doom. Her mere presence could suck the life out of anything that was still breathing around her. She’d met a lot of uptight authority figures in her life, had a couple sets of foster parents who were stricter than the nuns at the Catholic school she’d once attended. Somehow, Venable put every single one of them to shame in their eighteen months together.

“Ladies.” Venable’s tone was even but firm, carrying a hint of exasperation. “Have I not been clear about the schedule? I’m sorry you don’t have the luxury of late mornings, but that’s not how things run around here.” Venable’s dark gaze fixed on her, and it felt like the woman had slapped her across the face. She caught herself before she rolled her eyes. Mornings, as a concept, were a thing of the past, another lifetime entirely. “You were warned about this, were you not? If I have to tell you again, there will be harsher consequences.”

That was Venable Speak for I’ll throw your ass out of here faster than you can blink. She would be left to the radiation poisoning if the desperate cannibals didn’t get to her first. She’d thought about it a lot while doing her chores, all the ways it could happen, while counting the minutes until curfew. She often debated which was worse, weighed her options. Of all the shit she’d been through in her life, nothing had made her feel more pathetic and hopeless than this. Venable had been lecturing her with the same warning for about two months, if she’d counted right. She suspected they couldn’t spare any more Grays or her own corpse would’ve been rotting in the wasteland outside by now.

She held her tongue, even though it nearly killed her. This was about survival, after all. “Yes, ma’am.”

***

Doing laundry for the Purples was the most thankless, mind-numbing job on this ruined planet, so of course the second she’d been put on Venable’s shitlist, it was the task she’d been assigned. It wasn’t that she hated being invisible, because she had been used to that before the bombs dropped. The Purples, as a specific tax bracket that could actually afford survival, were extremely high maintenance. And the fact that life as everyone knew it had ended did not change that. Venable’s weird ass Victorian Gothic aesthetic seemed to make it worse. Somehow, she never thought surviving the apocalypse would involve a future—or lack thereof—washing rich people’s dirty clothes.

But, survival was survival. She was lucky to be here, even if people like Venable and Mead made her constantly question her worth. If she was such a goddamn nobody, then why would she ever catch the interest of the Antichrist himself?

Her thoughts were traitorous bastards. Every time her mind wandered off throughout her monotonous work day, she always found herself thinking of Langdon. Whatever she’d felt when he gave her that knife and asked her to wound him—and the power she’d had, even though it had been fleeting, when she thought she’d mortally stabbed him. The intensity of his gaze, the preternatural heat of his body. She actually fucking missed that pretentious asshole, which was wild and ridiculous and maybe a little bit pathetic.

She was the only one in this miserable place who knew his secret. That had to be worth something.

After she dropped off the last of the clean towels in Coco’s room, narrowly avoiding some kind of argument between her and the Gray, Mallory, who was attached to her hip, she slipped away to Langdon’s suite. She told herself it was because of the bloodstained towels she’d left all over his bathroom floor last night. Anything else would’ve been pitiful.

When a knock on the door didn’t elicit any kind of response, she found it unlocked.

“Langdon?”

The door shut with a soft click behind her once she’d slipped inside. She didn’t have his coat with her—she’d have to return it after curfew, the only time that was relatively safe—so it was pointless to be here without him. The bathroom door was open this time, the room empty. Nothing but the flicker of candlelight, splashing like gold on the walls. Unlike a lot of the Purple suites, this one was kept tidy, the bed made as if it hadn’t even been slept in. Like she’d noticed last night, there were no personal touches to the room except for the laptop on the desk, which wasn’t even there anymore.

The room was so much colder without him in it.

She ached to know more about him. Any sort of hint about who he was outside this place before the world fell apart. Before he made it this way. What kind of life led to bringing about the apocalypse? She wondered if he had a family. A spouse. Parents. Her only frame of reference for the Antichrist was The Omen, and she doubted that was any help whatsoever in this situation.

Her life was so fucking bizarre.

“All right, Langdon,” she said to the vacant room. “Let’s see…”

Her fingers trailed across the top of the desk. Sitting in the chair, she pulled open the drawers, only to find every single one of them empty. No Cooperative files like she’d seen in Venable’s office. No letters. Not even a worn photograph of his family. She lingered there a moment longer, drumming her fingers on the glossy wood, wondering if Langdon would know she’d been in here without him. Maybe he would; he seemed to have eyes everywhere, an eerie omniscience. A satisfied grin tugged at the corner of her lips, knowing he was probably somewhere in the Outpost conducting interviews while she had the run of his private suite.

A soft gasp broke the quiet when she pulled the armoire open and discovered it overflowing with his clothes. “You are a fancy bastard.”

It was mostly a sea of endless black, a few pieces of dark or bright red lost in between. Her fingers skirted over silk and satin and velvet, neatly pressed pants, waistcoats, and jackets kept in impeccable order. A row of dress shoes and ankle length boots sat on the bottom shelf, all of them polished. The scent of him, dark and cloying, drifted into her senses the longer she stayed there snooping through his personal wardrobe.

And the absence of him was downright maddening.

She could almost imagine him here with her, silent as a phantom. Keeping watch.

A small drawer held his silk cravats, but that wasn’t what caught her attention. Next to the tangle of expensive silk sat a crystal bottle, the cap gilded with a decorative flourish and a serpent winding around it. She took it out, eyebrow inching upward. Two tiny rubies flashed in the candlelight, the serpent’s intense, angry gaze fixed in the middle distance. It was nothing more than a cologne bottle, except it happened to be so vague and yet so elegant that she wondered where the hell it had come from. Whatever scent it held turned amber in the light.

“Pretentious,” she muttered. “Hedonistic. I can’t say I’m surprised…but if I had access to anything I could ever want, I’d flaunt it, too. Being Satan’s son must have its perks.”

Once she uncapped the bottle, the scent hit her immediately. Rich and warm and earthy with a hint of bergamot and citrus. There were some darker notes hidden in there, some things she couldn’t place. Alluring. Decadent. She closed her eyes and breathed in deep, letting it fill up her senses as if Langdon had been hovering right behind her, knuckles grazing the back of her neck, his chest flush against her spine. She was lucky the room wasn’t occupied because the sound that it provoked was probably the definition of unholy.

She sprayed it on her wrists and the hollow of her throat, the scent blossoming on her skin, following her even when she left the bottle where she’d found it. With the armoire shut, she went to the dresser. The top drawer had an orderly pile of black dress shirts; to her shock—because she thought he would’ve burned them along with the bloodied towels that had gone missing—she saw his ruined shirt tucked into the corner. The only thing in this room that wasn’t perfectly arranged. She pushed the drawer closed once she wrenched it out of its hiding spot.

It took her a minute to find the tear in the shirt, the place where the blade of his knife had pierced him. But it was still there, the only reminder that it hadn’t been some feverish nightmare. Her fingers worried at the ripped fabric, stumbling over where she could feel the dried blood. She stared at it for a long time, remembering how odd it had felt when the blade sunk into him, how easily she could do it again. There was the absence of him, but the absence of that power, too; she felt it fading and wondered if she’d ever be able to summon it again.

Maybe she was better off being a nobody. A shitty worker ant under Venable’s shoe.

“Sorry, Langdon.” She rolled up the shirt and shoved it into the pocket of her apron. “Old habits and all that. Though, I don’t think you’ll be missing this much.”

The door closed softly again behind her, and she stayed for just a moment more, her forehead resting against it as the scent of him drifted into the hallway with her. When she spun around, she caught the edge of a shadow darting around the corner. Her heart leapt straight into her throat, thinking it was Langdon. But it was so much worse than that.

Her roommate locked eyes with her from across the hallway, the two of them separated by the wide expanse of one of the main staircases. The Gray had captured her gaze long enough for her to know that this time, she was completely and utterly fucked. There were no lies to tell now, no excuses to explain this away. Her fellow Gray didn’t say anything, just lifted her chin in a sort of childish, condescending manner before she disappeared down the stairs.

Shit.

***

She awoke sometime past curfew, a feeling weaseling into her subconscious to wrench her out of a dreamless sleep. It felt more like a warning than her internal alarm clock, now set to the formless passage of time down here. Wrestling her way out of the fatigue that threatened to drag her back into the blissful dark, she sat up and blinked against whatever still blurred her vision.

Her roommate was awake. Wide awake. The doors to her own wardrobe had been thrown open, her fellow Gray, dressed in one of those horrible vintage nightgowns, stood there rifling through her personal shit. She’d found what she was looking for, though, because Langdon’s coat was in her hands and she recognized the pool of black fabric at her roommate’s bare feet as the shirt she’d stolen from his room earlier. Now she knew why her roommate had been asleep already when she went to bed, why her gossipy ass hadn’t said a word about what she’d seen. The Gray had been waiting instead. Biding her time for the right opportunity.

She swung her legs over the side of her cot. The floor was chilly under her toes. “What the fuck are you doing?”

The Gray’s smile was slow and rather triumphant. “I should be asking you that. Is this Langdon’s coat? How did you get this?” She took a few steps forward, trampling over the shirt she’d left on the floor. It made her irrationally angry, the way she kicked it to the side.

“I think he would say that’s classified.” She couldn’t help the smart comeback, despite the anger in her blood. “Why are you going through my shit? Who gave you the right?”

Her roommate’s grin dissolved into a deep frown. “I saw you,” she accused. “In Langdon’s room earlier. And I saw you hiding this.”

“I know you did.” Without thinking about it, her hand slid beneath her pillow, fingers curling around the handle of Langdon’s knife. “Now put that back where you found it.”

The Gray’s eyes narrowed. “So, what’s the story between you and him, then?” Her roommate threw the coat at her chest and she caught it with one hand, letting it drape across the cot where her blanket had been left in a tangle. “The secret visits, his clothes in our room—Mead said you were a thief. For the record, I never believed her.”

Well, maybe you should have.

“He asked me to do his laundry.”

“Right.” Her roommate scoffed. “Do you expect me to believe that?”

“Not really.” Her fist tightened around the knife.

“Are you fucking him?” the Gray asked. “Is that what this little arrangement is about? You give him everything he wants, and he’ll let you into the Sanctuary?”

“If I was,” she slipped the knife out from under her pillow, the blade flashing silver, “would that make you jealous?”

The Gray let out a trembling breath. “What are you doing?” She stumbled back a few steps, her eyes horrifyingly wide as she rose off her cot.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

She advanced on her roommate, the knife clutched in her fist. The Gray wilted into a corner, a frightened whimper springing free from her throat. She wanted another taste of that power so badly, wanted the feeling of chasing after the chaos Langdon had unleashed inside her. It disappointed her a little that the Gray didn’t fight back, didn’t so much as scratch her or make a desperate grab for the blade. Once her roommate sunk into the wall, recoiling, silent tears dripping down her face, she leaned over the Gray with one hand splayed above her head.

“Would you be jealous,” she asked again, “if he wanted me?”

“Stop,” the Gray yelled. “I’ll tell Venable what you’ve been doing. And she’ll tell Mead, and they’ll throw you out and shoot you—”

It was quick. Not a second thought spared, just a swift, violent motion and the blade of the knife disappeared into the soft flesh of her roommate’s upper torso, slipping between her ribs. The Gray went slack with terrified shock, eyes wide like a deer caught in the headlights, one last pained whimper left to give. Another violent tug and the blade sliced upwards, a rush of blood spurting down the Gray’s white nightgown. Scarlet dribbled from her roommate’s chin, and she felt the splatter of her choking cough hit the side of her face. The Gray’s blood was warm, running down between them, her own nightgown stained from the aftermath. She pulled the blade out and watched the Gray crumple to the floor, the pool of blood growing bigger and darker around them. It was sticky and familiar between her toes.

She was panting heavily from the adrenaline, her exhales shaky. She dragged her sleeve across her forehead. “Shit.”

The blade had turned red, the air in the room tinged with the familiar scent of iron. She lowered into a crouch, eyes fixed on the Gray’s still body. Her sightless eyes. Rising to her full height, she gathered up Michael’s shirt from the heap on the floor and stowed it away in her wardrobe. She’d still have to return the coat to him, once she figured out how to deal with this mess. On the bright side, maybe he’d let her borrow his shower again.

The fire in the hearth behind her flickered wildly and then almost extinguished as if it had been smothered by a strong wind. The change in the air around her was immediate; the sharp rise temperature caused the hair on the back of her neck to stand up, a bead of sweat to trickle down the side of her face. She heard herself exhale, but it was more than that—the tension in her muscles dissipated, and she could take a deep breath. The ache lessened.

When she turned around, Langdon had his arms folded calmly behind his back, dark amusement on his lips. He cut a tall, lithe figure in tailored pants and a waistcoat, and the casual way he’d rolled up the sleeves of his shirt caught her off guard.

“This is becoming a habit between us.”

She listened to the measured cadence of his footsteps. He moved past her to have a look at the body growing cold at her feet, his arm brushing against hers, his skin searing hot through the sleeve of her nightgown. Hearing the low rumble of his voice again made her stomach do another embarrassing somersault. His head turned toward her again, icy gaze drifting to the knife still clutched in her hand.

“You stole my knife.”

She threw him a pointed look. “Bullshit, Langdon. You let me take it.”

The slight rise of his chin, the mischievous, barely perceptible tilt of his head told her that she’d been right.

“I knew the temptation would be too much.” Langdon stepped closer, all languid elegance, that arrogant grin overtaking his face. “I knew the moment you turned the blade on me you wouldn’t be able to let it go.” His fingers closed around hers, wrapped around the hilt of the knife and smeared the blood. When she tried to let go and push the knife into his hand, he held tight to her fingers, his thumb tracing her knuckles.

“No,” he whispered, nudging her forehead with his, so close that the warmth she’d missed seeped through the thin fabric of her bloodstained nightgown. “I think you’ve earned the right to keep it.”

The knife slipped from her fingers and buried itself into the floorboards. Langdon hadn’t let go of her hand; instead, he brought it between them like he had last night, except now the blood was still warm and new on her skin. She watched, her breath catching a little in her throat, as he flipped her hand over to inspect the inside of her wrist. The pad of his thumb was soft, curious, as it followed the veins there. He ducked his head, nose skirting the delicate bone where the blood started to congeal. A flutter of his long eyelashes, the sharp intake of his breath told her that Langdon had discovered the remnants of his cologne on her.

He didn’t say anything, just pressed his lips to the inside of her wrist. The touch was gentle, so fleeting that she could’ve imagined it. But it was enough to ignite the fire in her veins, enough to make the room spin just a little. She wanted to reach out and tangle her fingers in his hair like her dream, but she stopped herself. Fucking hell.

She struggled to speak. “I don’t know what I’m going to do.” Her voice shook more than she would’ve liked. “How am I going to explain this? Venable’s going to notice one of us is missing and I don’t—”

“You won’t have to,” he assured, voice dropping to a whisper. When he looked up, his smirk had returned. Langdon let go of her wrist and she hated him for it. “Leave that to me.” He searched her gaze and held onto it with an intensity that made her cheeks flush. “Anyone willing to kill to protect their secrets—and mine—is worthy of my trust. Do I have yours?”

She crouched to wrench the knife from the floor. “If you clean up the mess first.”

Langdon reached out a hand, fingers curled, his rings catching the weak light from the fireplace. The blood that had been spilled on the floor started to leach back into her corpse, not a trace of it left behind except for the red she’d managed to, yet again, get all over her clothes and hands. And then the Gray’s body ignited, the flames summoned from nowhere and producing little smoke. Together, they watched the body burn until there was nothing left except a few singed floorboards.

She supposed there were perks to earning the Antichrist’s trust, too.

***

Tagging my usual list, but if you want to (or don’t want to) be tagged, just let me know!

@lastregasolitaria @mylippo @zeciex @lvngdvns @langdonsdemon @wvntersldr @sojournmichael @gabnelson98 @antichristlangdxn @keavysmithxoxo @batgirlbride @dead-witch-boy @boofy1998 @gentianea @cryptid-coalition @kinlovecody @yuriohoe04 @electricurie @marvel-rpdr-and-ahs @gallxntdean @jcshadowkiss-blog @frozenhuntress67 @sebastianshoe @dixmond-taurus @bookobssesed99 @sassylangdon @queenie435 @holylangdon @angsty-otters-blog @denaexr @mr-langdonn @micheallangdons @lostin-fern @crazedcatcuddler @michaelsapostle @wroteclassicaly @monsucre @ritualmichael @queencocoakimmie @bluelancesredswords @theharvestgirloffire @punkysouls @sevenwondr @prettykitten123 @zoebensvn @kylosbabe @sloppy-little-witch-bitch26 @readsalot73 @americanhorrorstudies @tiny-ruby-seeds @confettucini @xavierplympton @kaetastic @blakewaterxx @marvel-imagines-yes-please @forever1313 @anacerta @imagines-oneshots-blog @tothetardissterek @vixi3303

#michael langdon x you #michael langdon x reader #michael langdon x fem!reader #michael langdon x oc #michael langdon imagine #michael langdon fanfiction #fic: reckoning

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peachymess · 5 years

Text

On Eren

If it’s not one thing, it’s another. Snk, you keep me up at night. It’s 7am and I can’t sleep. It just hurts too much. All the fears hitting me at once. I need the next chapter, just to further the in-verse present time. Yet at the same time, I can barely read another word or I might perish.

Listen, Eren might have had a very black-and white sort of tunnel vision all his life. He may always have been rash and headstrong and quick to decide what he deems as right and wrong. And he might come down on what he deems “injustice” very hard. But that’s not all there’s been to him. He’s also always cared about strangers in need, his friends, the freedom we’re all born with and deserve to have. He cries for people’s fates, he smiles at others’ joy.

He felt hate, yes, but he also felt love. I’m just gonna go ahead and pick a side. I refuse to accept that we’re meant to land on the far-evil side of his spectrum. If his plan is exactly what he says it is, I actually accept it as IC, because given Eren’s circumstances, we can understand what lead him to become this consumed with hate and misguided action. However, even so, I don’t think that’s where he’ll be by the end of this story. He’s swinging, and he’s gonna land somewhere closer to the middle. I’m not talking redeemed, I’m just talking understood and hopefully reawakened from his hate-consumed state - unless we’re just gonna have a straight up “this had to be done for best ending” twisteroo.

The thing is. If his plan is what he says it is, it’s nuts. But it’s *so* nuts that it’s... almost cartoony. Because not only do we get the plan like he says, it also means that the bleak as hell narrative Mikasa gave this chapter, is meant to be correct. Paraphrasing to a dangerous degree, we can sum it up like this: “Eren is a monster and I’m starting to realize he didn’t become one; he’s always been one”. This, canonized, would erase the weight of any smile, care and love Eren’s shown to give from earlier years. It would mean that beneath care for his friends and laughter at the dinner table, his thoughts and goals were so ugly and selfish that it even at that point outweighed the “shallow” good he projected into the world. Not only does that set the bar extremely low for what people we are meant to consider “evil”, but it also flips the script of the entire story to be one of hatred and fake beauty from start to finish. If we’re told Eren’s meant to be evil masked as good from the get-go, 1. If we accept it, every happy interaction looks empty and pointless as hell and strips the story of its stakes to some degree, or 2. We realize it honestly doesn’t fit because his “good” feelings being genuine is why entire plot points work and the story developed in the way it did.

What I’m trying to say is this: Mikasa’s temporary conclusion that Eren might have been a monster* all along, isn’t correct (and it’s meant to be seen as a wrong read imo). But if his plan is what he says it is, he IS one, thus her conclusion would be correct. Which it isn’t.

Side note: while I believe Eren’s plan and Mikasa’s conclusion need to coincide (plan true = M conclusion true VS plan fake = M conclusion fake), there is an argument to be had that Mikasa could be wrong about Eren always having been a monster while Eren still truly having become one by this point in time. But I don’t believe so. For instance: if Eren wasn’t a monster before but has become one now, Mikasa’s closing conclusion (him being one NOW) is still correct - but the reasoning/buildup used to arrive at that conclusion, is wrong. It would be like solving a mathematical problem incorrectly but arriving at the right answer by luck. She’s asking herself if, looking back, she can actually see the seeds of his true form, where she previously saw him through rose tainted goggles. But if he truly was a good boy before, it would be unfair (and a waste of time) to put on the table, a plot point that’s synthetically explained/constructed, when there is a true calculation/formula to the conclusion since (if) it’s correct. And the other way around, if her conclusion is right, but the plan is fake, the “monstrosity” she’s caused to reflect on, is fake to begin with, so how can she still be right he’s a monster?

So, back on track, I don’t feel like Eren is meant to end on this 100% villain note. His plan of genocide, his on-the-nose villain final titan face, PLUS Mikasa’s “sike, he’s ALWAYS been a monster”... it’s just too much evil. Especially for a story like SNK. It feels to me, like this is the “the night is darkest before the dawn” part of the story, where we go from “he’s a pure boy”** to “my god... no... he’s actually a demon boy, god help us”. Mikasa’s narrative says this, and Armin is having that exact themed melt-down when his desire to see Eren as good, physically stops being compatible with what he sees around him. They’re both so scared of acknowledging Eren’s flawed, that having to accept it, initially feels like a much bigger deal, a much longer fall from grace. So we swing with them, from one outer point to the other. Panic mode... but it won’t end there. It’s too cartoony, too black/white still. Looking back, the good times they shared, they were real. And the pain he’s later caused, is also real. But he’s not setting out to do damage for the sake of damage. He’s not evil to the core. I refuse to believe that’s what we’re meant to be left with at the end; redeemable or not, his goal isn’t pain. A lie is best wrapped in truths, and Isayama is fueling our own fear of Eren’s monstrous side by making us do callbacks to things in the past that could be seen as seeds of evil. And to a degree he’s right. Eren is violent. To be honest, it never say well with me how he killed those men at age nine. I understood the “the end justifies the means” aspect of it, and I think that’s why I was able to let it slide despite the discomfort. Yet it never quite... fell to rest. A nine year old being able to stab other humans to death with no remorse and such violent words... should a nine year old child be able to do that, even if it’s for the greater good? I’m sure I’m not alone. And Isayama intended it this way, to be able to do this callback. It spreads uncertainty. You start to buy into it... Becayse it’s true to some degree: it’s messed up. Your regular kid couldn’t do something like that... But it’s not proof that Eren is evil through and through. It’s just presented in such a way that it makes for a compelling argument. And in the heat of the moment, it provides the “holy shit fuck” the story needs to make the stakes as severe as possible. Taking a step back, I refuse to believe it’s a true revelation, but an intensional gaslighting of his person, presented so we’ll swallow the bait. Eren having always been a monster incubating, is too cartoony to be the final note.

So the question becomes: is the plan true or false? Depending on the answer, we’ll have three different proceedings. In neither scenario, he’s means to be the evil monster he’s seen as right now, though. If the plan is true, he’s become this way through being misguided and lost in perpetual hate and pain caused by all the knowledge and visions. With this backdrop, EMA/SC will have to either take him out despite realizing/finding out the pain that corrupted him - so not hating him but having to end him all the same. Or, they manage to win through to him by countering the hate with love (he could still die though, we might be past the point of no return, ngl).

On the other hand, if Eren’s been playing the long game and about to throw them for a loop, the cast members will all learn this in time and come to accept the bittersweet outcome that after all will be the best ending they can ask for in a world with so much hate. Eren can still die, I’m not delusional (but here’s hoping he won’t).

*when I use the term “monster” - and “evil”/“villain” - I’m pinning that to a personality that intends harm with the end goal of harm. Just because he’s not a monster (if this turns out to be the case), that doesn’t mean he isn’t still in the wrong, antagonistic, irredeemable for actions done in the name of good, etc. This ramble meta is about Eren being a conscious agent of pain versus a bringer of pain yet an agent of “good” (not considering his performance as an agent of such).

**He was already tainted from the attack in Liberio, so while I say “pure boy”, I mean in terms of us/the characters still seeing him as originally good (possibly - but “I refuse to believe it” - bad).

Edit: while I say at the start that if the plan is true, he’s a monster, and later say it could be true and he’s still not a monster for it, what I mean is this: if the plan is true in the sense that he knows how evil and selective it is, and will fight for it till the end, then yes, he turned out to be the monster that Mikasa correctly realized him to be. If, on the other hand, erens goal isn’t the pain but the greater good, he’s a misguided “good boy” who caused more bad than good out of mistake. If this is the case, I also believe he will realize it before the end, to swing that morality pendulum back towards the middle. Hope that clears it up. It’s about intent.

Thus concludes my late night/early morning rambles. I’ve said it before, I’m fine with anyone calling me a naive idiot for still holding out hope, but I’m just not accepting that Eren going full Satan and us accepting that “surprise, he always was Satan” is what Isayama wants to leave us with.

Isayama say sike right now.

#snk #snk 123 #eren yeager #snk meta #snk 123 meta #’you never go full retard’ to quote a good movie lol #save me jesus

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seungcheolsbodyharness · 5 years

Text

heart shaped: IV

wc: 6.3k

warnings: mild violence

summary: you and jihoon make your way to soyoung’s NYE party. everything is going just fine, until a pair of someones make a surprise, unwanted appearance.

genre: fake dating, angst

part 1 || part 2 || part 3 || part 4 || part 5 || finale (in progress)

nine o’clock comes quicker than you anticipated.

you and jihoon had spent the last few hours huddled together in his studio while jihoon showed you how he did his job - producing, songwriting, a little bit of everything.

the smile on his face as he explained everything had been electric, drawing you in with every word and gesture. you tried your hardest to follow along, but jihoon spoke quickly when excited. it was obvious how much he loved his work.

nine o’clock rolls around with a timely text from soyoung, confirming your attendance since no one had heard from you or jihoon since lunchtime. you text her back to soothe her worry and apologize, saying that you and jihoon had been busy and you’d see her soon.

“guess we should get going.” you stand and stretch, muscles stiff from sitting too long. jihoon does the same, letting out a content little sigh. “do you normally sit for that long? it can’t be good for your back.”

he hums, rolling his shoulders. “i try not to, but…i have a tendency to get sucked into my work. i see a chiropractor pretty regularly, and i uh…stretch and go for a walk for food, usually.” he twists to one side and you hear a small ‘pop’ and does the same in the other direction. he gathers his things and you yours, and then he leads you out of the studio and back down the hallway.

“besides, seungcheol always comes down from upstairs and makes me get up and walk around with him so he can talk stuff out.” jihoon nods to the guard at the desk - dongsoo has left for the night, and the guard here looks much less friendly. but perhaps he’s just mad about working on new years eve.

“so you and seungcheol are close?” you ask as you enter the elevator. jihoon’s face pinches up like he’s thinking too hard, and you can’t help but laugh. “i just didn’t get to meet many of your friends at the carnival. and i already knew woomin, obviously.”

“seungcheol isn’t a baseball friend. actually, of my like…friends that i see regularly, none of them play baseball with me. which is probably for the best.” he steps out of the elevator when you come to a halt in the garage and leads the way towards the car. “i’ve known him a long, long time though. since high school. we were in choir together, actually.” without hesitating, jihoon opens your door before walking around the front of the car to the driver’s side.

you hop in and close the door as he does the same, starting the car. “so he works here with you? what does he do?”

“he’s a personal trainer for the idols and actors in the company.” he pulls the car out onto the street, joining the evening traffic. soyoung lives not too far from the city center, so even with traffic you’ve arrived pretty quick.

before you can go in, though, jihoon says, “uhhh,” which catches your attention, so you look at him expectantly. “so, i don’t really drink, so if you want to get like, you know, shit-faced, i’ll make sure you get home safe.”

your eyes go wide, thinking for a moment maybe he’s giving it up for your sake. “are you sure? i can contain myself.”

he waves you off, though. “i really, genuinely don’t drink that much so holding off isn’t a huge deal.” he shrugs and looks away, flicking an invisible piece of dust from the steering wheel. “and i think that, yknow, as your ‘boyfriend’, i should make sure that you’re safe.” he laughs nervously. “soyoung will kill me if i let anything bad happen to you.”

your face softens and you pat his arm gently. “yeah, i guess you’re right. sounds good. i’ll try to keep myself under control anyway.”

jihoon nods and gets out of the car, hustling around to your side to open your door. you step out and onto the slick ground, arm instinctively reaching for jihoon’s when your feet slide underneath you. he wraps an arm around your waist to steady you, and you blush softly, thanking him.

“don’t worry about it.” he replies. once you’re steady, he releases you and takes your hand in his own, the two of you walking side by side towards soyoung’s door.

jihoon doesn’t bother to knock, twisting the doorknob and walking straight inside instead. you follow him, announcing loudly to soyoung that you’d arrived. her head peeks out from the wall separating the kitchen from the living room and she smiles at the two of you, face already a little pink.

“hey lovebirds.” she coos as the two of you leave your coats and shoes at the door. “have a nice day together~?“

"yeah, nosy, we did.” you glance sidelong at jihoon and smile softly, which he returns. you lead the way to the living room- hands now rejoined having shed your layers - where a number of people have already gathered, drinks in hand. most of them you recognize, some of them you don’t, but jihoon seems to be familiar with the faces you are not, so you assume you’ll get to know them eventually.

you and jihoon snag a spot on the giant beanbag soyoung has pulled out from the computer room, ending up somewhat snuggled together - jihoon leans back against the wall, one leg pulled up beneath him, one arm wrapped around your back and his hand nestled gently on your waist. the two of you manage to seamlessly join the conversation, and being with jihoon like this feels comfortable. feels easy, even pressed up together like you are. once again, you think about how glad you are the two of you came together like this, how you seemed to find each other right when you really, really needed it. if you had to do something like this with anyone, it feels right that it’s jihoon.

you’re pulled from your thoughts when jihoon leans in towards you, saying, “hey, do you want something to drink? i’m gonna get a coke."

you nod, asking him for a cup of whatever concoction soyoung has brewed up, and he nods back as he pulls himself up off the beanbag to make his way into the kitchen. more people pour in through the door while he’s gone, and you follow along with the story soonyoung - a childhood friend of woomin and jihoon’s who you’ve met before - is telling about finding his boyfriend face down in a pile of snow first thing that morning, laughing when soonyoung reveals that he’d gone out there, drunk, crying about frosty the snowman. jihoon comes back to you, balancing your drink, his drink, and a plate of snacks that he sets down on the beanbag between you after handing you your drink.

sometime later, after nearly everyone has arrived, someone (likely seungcheol, who you’ve been properly introduced to now) suggests playing a drinking game. you’re excited to play, actually, considering your confidence in your ability to follow things along even intoxicated. jihoon also seems excited, and when you question his thrill he tells you it’s always fun to watch people get really shitfaced and make fools of themselves.

"you won’t let me make a fool of myself, will you baby?” you ask, pouting up at him. he flushes and laughs, running a hand over the back of his neck.

“no, baby, of course i won’t.” he says softly, sipping at his drink.

“are you going to play too?” you ask. he raises his eyebrows, shrugs.

“i mean, i’m not drinking, so…no?” you pout at him, more dramatically, and he turns away from you. “what? don’t give me that face.”

“you can play with your soda.” you whine. “i want you to play, hoonie. please?”

“yeah, hoonie.” comes a chorus of voices. jihoon turns a glare at seungcheol, soonyoung, and hoseok in turn, who are all laughing together at the kitchen counter. “play with us!” seungcheol whines, and jihoon’s jaw tenses. you reach out to him, about to tell him not to worry about it when he sighs.

“fine.” he looks back at you, pointedly ignoring the cheers coming from his friends. “i’ll play along for you, baby.”

you smile at him, bright, grabbing his arm and squeezing. “good!!! it’s going to be fun, just you wait.”

the game, it turns out, is truth or dare. there is a mixed chorus of groans and cheers, but you all settle into a circle as best as you can in the living room, everyone with either a fresh drink or one at the ready. it is quickly decided that the game will be played with an app from soyoung’s phone - spinning a bottle seems almost too juvenile.

the first few rounds pass quickly - you and jihoon both manage to escape the randomizer’s grasp while some others aren’t so lucky. sohee - seungcheol’s girlfriend - has somehow managed to be picked three times, two of which she’d chosen to drink instead of answering the “truth”s that she’d been asked.

it’s on the seventh - maybe eighth? - go-round that soyoung laughs heartily and calls out your name. your eyes go wide, and you nod, and turn slowly to face soonyoung, whose smile is too wide for your liking.

“truth or dare?” he asks, eyes slowly flitting between you and jihoon.

“truth.” you respond quickly, clutching nervously to the rim of your cup. you can feel jihoon’s hand at your back, thumb rubbing idly back and forth.

“what is something about jihoon that you like better than your ex?”

jihoon’s hand freezes on your back and soyoung squawks something about how “that’s not cool, soonie,” but you respond before anyone can kick up too much of a fuss.

“he doesn’t make me second-guess how he feels about me. with my ex i was always…yeah. i know where jihoon and i stand.” you take a sip of your drink to have something to do, but you feel good about your answer. soonyoung seems pleased as well, and the game continues. jihoon’s hand resumes its idle motion at your back.

he takes a sip from his drink as he watches the game, staying mostly quiet except to quip or laugh at something someone else says. every now and then he leans over to check in on you, whispering “doin’ okay?” and waiting patiently for you to nod.

the game continues and as people drink more, the dares and the questions grow more ridiculous and scandalous. seungcheol gets dared to stand outside in just his shirt and underwear for a full minute, soyoung confesses that before meeting woomin she had never thought she’d settle down and love one person forever. you laugh when she says that, because you know for a fact that it’s true. before woomin, soyoung had insisted she would never be tied down, no man would ever come between her and her goals. hoseok gets dared to call the person he wants to sleep with the most, and with a chorus of hollering in the background, he steps into the kitchen to make the call.

he steps back out a few minutes later, cheeks tinged pink from more than just alcohol and a big grin on his face.

“i’ll see you guys later.” he says, bringing the bottles and cups he’d used into the kitchen. “i have someone special waiting for me.”

jeers follow him to the door, shouts of “use protection!” and “get it!” among other things until the front door closes behind him.

the group erupts into gossip, people wondering who he could have called, shouting out names of possibilities.

jihoon stands and goes into the kitchen for a new drink and brings one back for you as well, setting it down next to his feet for whenever you were ready for it. he leans over close to you, turning his face away from the rest of the group to whisper, “they’re all wrong. he met someone at the gym last week that he’s been losing it over ever since. he’s gonna be embarrassed by this story later, that he only got the courage to call on a drunk dare.” he pulls back and laughs under his breath, and you giggle too. “it’s a secret for some reason though, so don’t tell anyone.”

you nod, solemn, and jihoon laughs again.

everyone settles down and soyoung starts the game back up.

the thing with drinking games is that no one ever drinks only when their turn comes - people sip absentmindedly from the drinks in their hands, getting drunker along with everyone else, and because of that everyone in the room - save for jihoon - was already well on the way to being smashed.

11:30

the game breaks a couple more times, and when it comes back together now, soonyoung’s face is pinched and geared towards jihoon, eyes full of suspicion.

“how come - hic - this whole time, hoon hasn’t - hic - gone yet? m’gon ask somethin’ real good.”

soyoung squints and scrolls through the app on her phone, mouth drawing into a tiny ‘o’. “i forgot!!!!” she cries. “i didn’ put him on the - the list.”

around you, everyone groans and complains and jihoon tenses beside you. slowly, you look up at him and see his brows drawn and his mouth in a tight line. “hoonie?” you whisper. he looks down at you and blinks, smiling reassuringly after wiping the annoyance from his face.

“i’m fine, baby.” he says.

“jihoon has to answer three because he hasn’t gone!” seungcheol demands, lifting his beer into the air dramatically. jihoon rolls his eyes as everyone seems to agree.

“fine. go ahead, drunkards.” he puts his hands out as if to say “do your worst.” you hope for his sake that they don’t, but soonyoung and seungcheol look much too pleased.

“truth or dare, hoon.” seungcheol takes it upon himself to nab one of the three questions.

“truth.”

“what,” seungcheol starts, is the most embarrassing thing that’s ever happened to you?”

jihoon sighs and rolls his eyes. “finding out minji cheated on me through social media. from someone else.” his tone is cold and distant and he finishes the though with a sip of his coke. “what’s next?”

seokmin - an actor friend from jihoon and seungcheol’s company - shoots his hand into the air. “truth or dare!” jihoon looks at him with something resembling fondness and responds this time with dare. something bubbles in your stomach, nerves maybe, but jihoon seems unworried. “i dare you to look into your girlfriend’s eyes for a full minute and say something romantic.”

a few boos sound out at this, but there is also laughter, and jihoon huffs out a sigh as he thinks about it.

“fine.” he decides. “someone get a timer.”

someone announces that they’re on it, and jihoon turns his body to face you straight on. his cheeks are the slightest bit flushed, almost as if he’d been drinking, but you know better. whoever has the timer says “start!” and jihoon’s eyes meet yours.

you’re not sure what you’re feeling. you’ve had quite a bit to drink, and your head was already feeling fuzzy before you found yourself staring into the eyes of your fake-beloved. but now, seeing the warmth there, you feel your body heat up and your heart pound faster. he says nothing, not yet, but he smiles at you softly and you smile back, muscles moving on automatic.

whoever’s holding the timer announces, “30 seconds left!”

jihoon’s heart feels like it’s going to hammer out of his chest - he wonders if anyone else can hear it. of course seokmin would think up a dare so sweet, and soft, and jihoon knew better than to take a drink in the face of a challenge so seemingly easy. it wasn’t a secret that jihoon wasn’t the most romantic- not in the loud, typical ways, anyway. the ones society deemed more important. looking directly into your eyes spurs a number of thoughts in his head, but he isn’t sure how safe it is to say them out loud.

“10 seconds!”

jihoon takes a deep breath and lets it out. he blinks a few times, bites his lip. “i’m so happy that i met you.” he says softly. “i hope this - this thing we have - works out in all the ways we want it to.”

you smile at him, fond. the timer goes off and people start to complain that his words weren’t enough, but you turn to them sharply and say that it meant a lot to you.

“and i’m his girlfriend, so my opinion is the one that matters.”

jihoon reaches out and squeezes your hand before settling himself back against the edge of the beanbag, his arm wrapping around your waist.

“who’s next?” he asks. his eyes flit over to soonyoung, who seems lost in thought. sober, that’s usually not a good sign. but drunk and in the middle of a game of truth or dare makes jihoon nervous.

“truth or dare?” soonyoung asks. jihoon takes his time before deciding, considering soonyoung with a heavy look.

“truth.” he decides, eyes narrowed, hand clenching around the drink he held.

soonyoung smiles, more of a smirk, and jihoon’s stomach sinks. “tell us, jihoon.” he drums his fingers together, pausing surely for effect. “if you had to pick between one month into your last relationship, or the one you have now, which one would you say has been better so far?”

jaws around the room drop, and jihoon nearly crushes the can in his hand.

soonyoung’s eyes pop, and you’re not looking but you’re sure the look jihoon is giving him isn’t pleasant.

seungcheol starts to speak up, but soonyoung is already backtracking. “nevermind it was a bad idea, i’ll -”

“now.”

soonyoung’s mouth hangs open, surprised. a chorus of “huh?” makes its way around the room and back to jihoon, whose jaw is set and cheeks are red.

“now. i would pick what i have now over anything with minji. it doesn’t matter how good things were before, she ruined that.” jihoon stands abruptly, walking towards the front door. as quickly as you can on unsteady legs, you stand yourself and follow him. he pulls his coat on and says nothing until you do.

“are you leaving?” you ask quietly. despite what you’d said earlier, you suddenly feel very unsure of yourself.

jihoon looks up at you, almost as if he hadn’t noticed you there. “no - no, i just…need to step outside for a minute. i wouldn’t leave without you.”

you nod slowly and reach for your own coat, your scarf and shoes. jihoon protests, if only mildly, but you ignore them and lead the way outside.

11:45

you and jihoon stand outside together in silence, leaning against his car.

it’s you that breaks it.

“she really hurt you, huh.” it’s less of a question and more of an observation. jihoon hums in response, but you hadn’t expected much more than that. “i’m really sorry, hoonie.”

jihoon hums again, then lets out a short bark of laughter. “the only one who should be sorry is my ex. and yours, i’m assuming.”

you sigh. “haejoon is the last thing i want to think about right now.”

jihoon nods. “right, right - sorry.”

the silence returns, and you play with a loose string on your glove.

“i wasn’t - i would pick our fake relationship anyway.” jihoon says suddenly. “i know i made it sound like it was only because she cheated on me, but really, what you and i have is way better. even if it’s…fake.” there’s something in the way he says in that has your heart clenching, but you’re not sure what.

the icy weather has done well to sober you up, but you’re still definitely drunk. too drunk try and parse out what jihoon might or might not mean.

“we should kiss.” you say, eyes trained on that damn loose string. jihoon makes a choking noise beside you. “at midnight, i mean. the other couples definitely will.”

jihoon stares at you for a few moments before he says anything. it seems he, too, is trying to decide if it’s worth it to find any deeper meaning in your words. “are you sure?” is what he goes with, instead.

“yeah, i think we’ll get too much shit if we don’t.” jihoon reaches out and plucks the loose string off clean, laying it in your palm. “thanks.”

“if you really think we should…” jihoon says softly.

“if you’re worried i’m just….dunno, drunk, i’ve been thinking about this for a while. just…forgot.” you shrug.

jihoon’s chest caves in. you’ve been thinking about kissing him? he clenches and unclenches his fists, urging himself not to look too deep. it makes sense. these things needed consideration for your ruse to really fool anyone. of course you’d thought about it, it was a logical thing to do. nothing more.

“okay.” he says. “sounds like a plan.”

“cool.” you return. “glad we’re on the same page.” you shiver, lips trembling, and suggest going back inside. “do you feel better now, hoonie?”

he nods. “yeah, yeah i do. thanks for coming out here with me.”

you nod back and reach out, taking his hand in yours.

11:55

once returning inside, soonyoung plies jihoon with apologies, reaching out with attempts at hugs that jihoon maneuvers himself away from. the beanbag has been taken over by two people you don’t recognize, locked in a heated kiss, so you manage to squeeze onto an empty spot on the couch. there’s only room for one of you, really, so you end up in jihoon’s lap.

soyoung has turned the tv to the channel homing the ball drop, a counter at the bottom of the screen detailing only three minutes left now until the end of the year. you hold your drink in your hand, other arm wrapped around jihoon’s shoulders for stability.

11: 59

the final countdown begins.

the thirty second mark sparks a cheer amongst the crowd in soyoung’s living room.

you toss back as much of your drink as you can handle. the closer you get to kissing jihoon the tighter your stomach and chest begin to feel. it’s almost worse that the feelings aren’t bad, necessarily. you almost welcome them.

you take another swig.

ten seconds left.

nine.

eight.

seven.

six.

five.

four.

three.

two.

one.

around you, the room erupts into cheers as music starts playing, fireworks to be heard from out on the street.

your heart pounds in your ears, and you turn to face jihoon. he looks calm, and it calms the restless beating. you lean down as he tilts his head up, and you press your lips softly to his.

you’re not sure why you were so worried about this kiss. kissing jihoon, much like every other part of your fake relationship, feels fine. feels good, even. you might almost say it feels natural, but you’re drunk so you don’t dwell on it too much. the kiss is soft, and sweet, and reminds you a lot of first kisses you’ve had in the past. jihoon’s lips move gently against yours, and you respond in kind. the cheers from the rest of the party continue as you pull away from him. you laugh, and he laughs too, bright sounds bubbling up from both of you as jihoon wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you closer. soyoung and woomin are still going at it near the kitchen counter, and numerous other couples can be spotted doing the same as you glance around the room.

“jihoon.” you say softly, tugging at his arm, “i need to pee, let me up.”

“ah.” he releases you and helps you stand on wobbly legs so you can wade through the crowd towards the little hall where the bathroom is. a few jeers follow you, but you ignore them - the pressure in your bladder is much more important.

you finish and wash your hands, opening the door to, surprisingly, find jihoon waiting.

“do you have to pee too?” you ask. he has had a lot of soda to drink, to be fair.

“no, no.” he shakes his head. “i um -”

jihoon doesn’t get to finish what he wanted to say.

from the living room you can hear soyoung screaming obscenities, and alarm bells go off in your head immediately, rushing from the hall with jihoon at your heels to see what was wrong.

you immediately wish you’d just stayed in the hallway.

there, standing in the living room, is soyoung, held back by woomin who looks as if he’d much rather let her go. standing opposite your best friend is someone you thought you’d never see again. someone you’d spent so much time trying to move past after he’d made you question everything you’d ever done.

standing opposite soyoung is haejoon. your ex-boyfriend. who’s decided not only to crash soyoung’s party, but to bring his girlfriend with him.

“how fucking dare you,” soyoung is screaming, “what makes you think i would let you into my home after what you did?”

“that goes for you too, minji.” woomin seethes, eyes narrowed at haejoon’s girlfriend.

the aura of the room is filled with hate, and anger, but you’re just filled with unbelievable sadness.

then haejoon sees you, and he smirks. “well, fancy seeing you here.”

“i was invited.” you say meekly. you hate this, hate the way he makes you feel even after all this time. small and weak and unsure of yourself.

he shrugs. “well, the party we were at before was a bust, and soyoung has always thrown a good party, so i thought we would drop by.” the girl he’s with smiles, something full of spite and malice, her eyes narrowed at you.

“that’s your ex, babe?” she simpers. “no wonder you broke up with her.” she titters a ridiculous little laugh behind her hand, and haejoon chuckles before telling her to “behave.”

you feel like you’re going to throw up. soyoung looks like she’s ready to claw this girl’s eyes out - her name is already gone from your memory, she isn’t important, she’s not - and several of the men in the room have stood and are moving closer to haejoon. you don’t want things to get violent, not at all, but you do kind of wish someone would punch haejoon’s lights out.

and then jihoon is stepping out from behind you, making his way through the crowd until he’s standing face to face with haejoon. haejoon’s girlfriend is staring at him, eyes wide and face gone pale like she’s seen a ghost.

“so you’re haejoon.” jihoon’s voice is eerily calm and your heart is pounding so hard it feels like it might burst out of your chest any moment.

haejoon nods, looking jihoon up and down. “and you are?”

jihoon’s eyes glance towards the girlfriend, who won’t meet his gaze. “i’m surprised she didn’t tell you.” he turns back to haejoon. “i’m minji’s ex-boyfriend. the one she cheated on to be with you. did she ever tell you that? that she had to lie and sneak and hurt people to go out with you?”

you feel like your world is going to explode. you need a drink. you need ten drinks. but jihoon doesn’t seem to be done.

haejoon scoffs.“she told me, yeah. right after she dumped you. by then you guys were over, so what does it matter to me?”

jihoon sees red. “you’re a piece of shit. both of you. you deserve each other.” his fists are clenching at either side and the whole room seems to be holding its breath.

“what’s your fucking problem, dude?” haejoon raises his eyebrows. “i didn’t do anything to you.”

jihoon considers this. his fists clench tighter. “no, i suppose not intentionally. you did, however, hurt someone very important to me.”

haejoon seems thrown off by that. and then his balance is thrown off when jihoon rears back and punches him straight in the jaw, knocking him back towards the wall.

“jihoon!” minji screeches. he ignores her and stalks towards haejoon.

“you both need to get out of here while i’m still being nice.” jihoon seethes. “you’re a piece of shit boyfriend and a piece of shit altogether, so i guess i’m glad you two found your way to each other. but,” he points back towards you, eyes locked with haejoon. “before you go, you owe my girlfriend a fucking apology for how you treated her.”

you start to tell jihoon that it’s fine, you’re fine, but he turns back towards you with determination in his eyes before turning back to haejoon.

“i’m waiting.”

haejoon is, by all means, much larger than jihoon. regardless of this, he’s always been a coward with only self-preservation to drive him, so he glances over jihoon’s shoulder at you and nods his head.

“i’m sorry.”

“that’s not good enough.” jihoon bites out.

“i’m sorry i was a shitty boyfriend, okay? i treated you bad and i was talking to other girls while we were dating and i should have broken up with you sooner.”

jihoon punches him again, right in the gut. “that’s not a fucking apology, i ought to-” jihoon stops speaking when you let out a choked sob, and makes the choice to leave haejoon doubled over and instead move back towards you. woomin takes the opportunity to let soyoung go, and she rushes forward to grab haejoon by the ear and drag him towards the door. minji makes to follow, but you call out to her this time.

jihoon, much like everyone else in the room, looks surprised.

“you owe jihoon an apology too, you bitch. i know you never gave him one.”

she narrows her eyes at you and walks away, and now in addition to the unbridled sadness there is unimaginable rage boiling under your skin. you start to walk towards her but jihoon holds you back, wrapping his arms around you and whispering into your ear.

“it’s fine.” he murmurs. “i’m not worth that kind of trouble.”

you scoff before wrapping your arms up around his shoulders. “what, and i am?” you whisper back, laying your head in his neck.

“of course.”

you chuckle, but it ends up paving the way for a sob. you’re still reeling from everything that just happened, and seeing haejoon had been enough of a slap in the face before he’d opened his goddamned mouth and -

“sweetheart.” comes soyoung’s voice, soft. “why don’t you let jihoon take you home, okay?"

you turn your head to look at her, and she looks like she’s ready to cry herself. you hate that the party has turned out this way. you can’t help feeling like it was all your fault.

"i - i want to stay.” you reply. “i just - i need a few minutes.”

soyoung shakes her head. “i think after all that excitement it’s best we call it a night. go home, drink lots of water, and call me tomorrow, okay?”

behind her, woomin is rounding everyone up and herding them towards the door. no one seems upset, but you still feel awful. your lip wobbles and soyoung reaches out to tuck some hair behind your ear.

you promise to call her and release your hold on jihoon, sniffling and rubbing at your nose. everyone else is gone now, you notice. jihoon takes you by the hand and brings you to the door, helping you back into your shoes and coat. now that everything is over, you just feel…numb. it’s probably shock, you think.

you say goodbye and once more promise soyoung you’ll call her, waving goodbye to woomin. jihoon does the same, and then you’re back out into the cold and heading for his car. he helps you up before getting in himself, and there’s only quiet between you other than the sound of the car engine turning over and music playing from the bluetooth. he pulls out of their driveway and onto the street, and it’s not until you’re out on the main road that he says anything.

“are you hungry?”

you look over at him, not really sure. you shrug. the two of you had eaten a light dinner, and there’d been food at the party, but you find yourself sort of…craving something, if only so you don’t have to talk.

“do you mind if we stop somewhere on the way - “

“i don’t want to go home, jihoon.” you say softly. “not - not right now. can we just - drive around for a while?”

jihoon blinks, caught off guard, but nods. “sure. then we should definitely eat something.”

you end up at a 7-11, which works just fine for you. jihoon peruses snacks and sandwiches while you bee-line for the liquor - desperate to distract yourself from the ache beginning to gnaw fiercely at your insides. you grab three bottles of soju - surprised that there are any left - and march up to the counter, handing over your id and your money, thanking the clerk before wandering back to jihoon. he has a few bags of chips and some instant ramen tucked into his arm, and when he sees your bag his brows draw together.

“i’m not trying to tell you what to do, but is that - are you sure that’s a good idea right now?” he asks, trying his best to show that he’s concerned, not bossy.

you sigh. “i wanted to drink more anyway. it’s - i would have drank more at the party.”

jihoon nods slowly. “if you’re going to drink, why don’t we go back to -”

“i don’t want to go home.”

“go back to my place,” he finishes. “i can take you home later.”

you sniffle and shrug your shoulders. “okay, i guess we can do that.”

“okay.” he nods, mostly to himself this time. “let me pay for this and we can go.”

once he’s done so, you get back into the car and open one of the bottles of soju. jihoon makes a face but doesn’t ask you to stop, so you take a deep gulp from it before replacing the cap and sliding the bottle into the cupholder. the drive is silent, this time. neither of you say anything until jihoon pulls into his own driveway, hopping out of the car and waiting for you to do the same before heading inside.

you settle onto the couch after shedding your layers at the door, and jihoon disappears into the kitchen only to show up a few minutes later holding two steaming bowls of ramen. he hands you one, and you’re surprised by the familiar container. “my favorite.”

he hums, sitting down beside you with his own. “you told me about it when we were at the carnival. do you want to watch a movie?”

you nod slowly, taking a small sip from your soju - now onto the second bottle, you were taking things slower. you let him pick, something from the mcu, but you’re not paying any attention. you can’t help it. you can’t stop thinking about the way haejoon had shown up after all this time and only made things worse, how could he have possibly made anything worse after the way he’d treated you? and to find out he’d cheated, too - you don’t notice the tears streaming down your face or the way your chest is heaving until jihoon has pulled you close to him, wiping your eyes with a tissue.

“please.” he whispers. “that piece of trash isn’t worth this.”

“it’s my fault, jihoon.” you sob. “something is wrong with me. why else - why else would he be like that towards me when he’s - he’s perfectly fine with her?” your entire body shakes as sobs wrack through your body, barely able to see jihoon through your tears.

“no.” jihoon insists, firm. “it’s not you, it’s him, he’s not worth a rotting piece of shit, he’s less than that, please just - there’s nothing wrong with you.”

“i made him stop loving me.” you whimper, chewing at your lip.

“someone like him isn’t capable of love.” jihoon pauses. “and he isn’t worthy of yours, either.”

you reach for the bottle of soju before jihoon can stop you, downing the rest of it. “i loved him so fucking much, hoonie.” fresh tears fill your eyes. “i loved him so much and he didn’t give a shit about me, and it hurts so much.”

“i know, baby.” jihoon whispers. “i know exactly how you feel.”

the nickname strikes you in a funny way, knowing there’s no one here for him to pretend for, but you take it. “i hate him so much.”

“good.” jihoon grabs a new tissue to wipe your face with. “he deserves all that and more. i should have - i wish i would have -” he lets out a frustrated noise and clenches his fists. you reach out and unfurl one of them to intertwine your fingers.

“thank you for what you did, jihoon.” you say softly, unable to look at him. “i’m sorry the party was ruined on my account.”

“stop that.” jihoon squeezes your hand. “it’s not your fault. it’s theirs, for showing up where they know they aren’t wanted. they knew something like that would happen. it’s what they wanted, i’m sure.”

“but -”

“no buts.” he insists. “eat your ramen.” he stands for a moment and walks back towards the kitchen, returning with a glass of water. “and drink this. your head is going to be pounding tomorrow.”

you take the glass from him and sip slowly as he sits back down on the couch, noticeably closer than he was before. he’s pressed up against you almost as if he’s trying to remind you that he’s there, if you need him.

you wonder if he knows how much it means to you.

#Seventeen #seventeen imagines #Lee Jihoon #seventeen woozi #woozi imagines #svt woozi #seventeen fanfic #woozi fanfic #seventeen jihoon #svt jihoon #lemon drop

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