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iouinotes · 4 months

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Heroic Betrayal | Luke Castellan (part 1)

SPOILER FOR THE PERCY JACKSON AND THE OLYMPIANS SERIES AND THE BOOKS

pairing: Luke Castellan x female!reader

show: Percy Jackson and the Olympians

warnings: dark!character, betrayal, implied sexual content, heavy angst, kidnapping

word count: 5,8k

summary: When Luke switches to the dark side, he tries everything possible to win you for him.

a/n: so as the show comes to an end (dont cry dont cry dont cry), I thought I would finally post this :)))

read part 2 here

"I'll find you!" his voice echoes through the forest, my laughter much louder than I intend to. But that´s just how it always goes. It's our own little tradition.

Every year when the camp starts again and we meet after the holidays passed, we play hide and seek in the dangerous forest of the half-blood camp. The creatures usually don't come across our path, in recent years it has rarely happened, that we actually had to defend ourselves against them.

Once it was an angry dryad, who threw branches at me (she had a crush on Luke and wanted revenge, but since I could understand her feelings and felt sad for her, we sorted it out).

Another time we were spotted by some camp members, who made fun of us, but Luke must have said something to them later, because we haven't been bothered by these troublemakers since.

It is always the same pattern, but each time there is still something special about it. We have grown, became more mature (I think), and have more and more experience about the struggles in life.

So being able to just let go for a few moments and being completely alone with him is probably the best thing to keep myself sane (even if he drives me a little bit crazy with the love I hold for him).

But a lot has changed recently.

It all started when rumors spread, that Zeus' lightning bolt had been stolen by Poseidon's son. And then the most supportive, bravest, sassy kid in the world showed up here. Percy Jackson. Ever since I met him, even though it's not his fault, there's been war going on. The gods are angry, the monster attacks became worse and again, rumors about the oldest, most powerful titan Kronos reached the camp.

It scared and frightened many people, including me. That's why we've been training harder and stay awake, even when the stars are shining, so that we can prepare for any catastrophe. To be able to fight.

My mother is the goddess Demeter, my father a simple man. I adore them both, even though my mother isn't one of my closest contacts. But I never really held that against her, because at least she decided to acknowledge me as her daughter. After all, it's a privilege that not everyone gets. My siblings and friends at camp are important to me, but the world is changing and so is everything around it.

The only stability I have left is my boyfriend Luke.

If I had to rely on one person in the whole world (and by that I also mean the underworld), it would be him.

He's been my best friend since I arrived at this camp. We've been together through ups and downs, I know every side of him and he knows everything about me too. Many of the people here are like blank pages to me, but not him. He is like my favorite book, that lays open to me and allows me to read each letter individually. Just as I know every of his dreams, every secret, every truth and every lie. He is my protector, my hero in every dark night and every bright day. Without him, I don't even know who I am. He is a part of me and my heart wouldn't be whole without him.

I watched him grow up. From the small, thin boy whose eyes hid so much pain and sadness to the strong, soulful leader he is today.

His beauty cannot be influenced by anything, he is like my very own sun, without him I could not survive.

I wouldn't want it any other way though.

Now, I'm hiding behind a tree with my back pressed against the bark and I am able to hear the cracking and swinging of the branches.

I smile so wide, that my cheeks start to hurt, when I hear his voice calling. My heart is beating in my throat, but it's not just the adrenaline of not getting caught. It's because of my love for him, which is so strong that sometimes I'm afraid of it. But only in the moments when I realize that nothing, but him is my biggest flaw. I think I would do anything for him.

Then I concentrate again and listen to the sounds around me. But his voice has fallen silent and I don't hear his footsteps anymore.

My eyebrows furrow, confused I try to look around the tree and search for an orange t-shirt. Likely together with his slim body, biceps, beautiful face and wonderful personality.

But when I want to withdraw again, it's already too late. A branch breaks behind me and before I can move I'm pushed against the tree from behind.

I immediately feel his body against mine, hear the laughter in his voice and listen to his strained breathing. His hands wrap around my body and turn me towards him, so that we are now face to face.

He's taller than me and as I look up, I feel the familiar fluttering feeling in my chest. I am so in love with him.

He grins triumphantly at me and I lean against the tree, smiling kindly.

"Found you, princess." The light reflects in his brown eyes and some of his curls are laying wildly on his head. He looks like an angel.

"I made it easy for you." My voice teases him and when he leans in so close to me, that our lips almost touch, I forget how to think properly. A habit I can't change. He's just so captivating.

"Yeah? You think I wouldn't have found you otherwise? Funny. I remember that in the last few years, I always was the winner of our little game." His lips brush mine, I want nothing more than to kiss him. But he knows that, which is why he slowly pulls back, when I start to lean forward.

When I want to complain, he puts his hand around my waist and pulls me into his chest. My knees almost give out, I feel so intoxicated by his presence.

"I-I wanted you to find me." My voice whispers quietly.

His eyebrows rise in mock surprise.

"Then I guess, I can claim my prize without feeling bad." In the next second, his lips are on mine and I'm unable to do anything, other than kissing him back. I wrap my arms around his neck and enjoy the warmth that radiates from him. He sets my heart on fire.

While pushing me against the tree, I've completely forgotten about, he lets his hands wrap possessively around my waist. Digging his nails into my hips, to keep me grounded. Otherwise, I would probably get lost in those sensations.

Luke kisses in a way, like it's the last time he'll have the chance. (As if I would ever want to keep him from doing that).

He's passionate, my body feels like it's on fire and the heat inside me feels so good, that I want more. I can never get enough of him and he knows it. He grins against my lips, but he doesn't break the kiss. I think he secretely loves knowing how much he can mess with me, with just a few kisses.

My hands find his hair and pull him closer to me, our chests touch and his breathing mingles with mine.

It is wonderful and so precious, I would refuse any gift from the gods just to be close to him.

When he pulls away from me, our bodies are still close. My eyes open and look dreamily into his, our gazes reflect a familiarity and love that is like nothing I have ever experienced.

He smiles at me, pushes a stray strand of hair behind my ear and leans himself against me. His fingers stroke the exposed skin of my pulled-up shirt.

"I've missed you." If my heart hasn't melted before, it has now. I give him a kiss on the cheek and hug him, we stand in our embrace for a moment. Enjoying each other's closeness, the calm feeling until the next chaotic situation happens.

"Now we are together again. Only that matters." It's quiet around us and when I close my eyes for the second time, I hear his fast heartbeat. I have to supress a smile.

The wind is the only thing I hear until his voice breaks the silence.

"Something will happen soon. Something big." The peaceful atmosphere is threatened by his words and when I look at his face again, I see his worried eyes.

I sigh, but then nod to agree with him. "I thought about that too, it feels different. Like something is coming our way, that we can't control."

His fingers stroke my cheek and for a moment, his face holds an expression, that I can't understand. It resembles regret.

But before I can ask him about it, he smiles tenderly at me again.

"Nothing will separate us. The world is just a game. It's a matter of time and making the right moves." That is his motto. But I'm not always convinced of this. Even though I trust him to do the right thing.

"I'm just worried we'll get seperated, you know? Evil can be sneaky and traitors always exist. You never know who you can trust." Something I said must have really bothered him, because he looks like I just stabbed him.

This time I ask him about it.

"What's on your mind? You can tell me. Two people who worry about something are better, than one who is alone with it." I take his hand and stroke his skin, it feels cold even though we have summer.

"Nothing, just- I don't want to lose you. I couldn't be here without you. I need you. I mean...I-I love you. You know that I would do anything to keep us together, right?"

His words surprise me. I know he loves me. I can sense that, everyone probably does. But he has never worn his heart on his sleeve and the three magical words only come out of his mouth on special occasions. The fact that he's telling me now surprises me.

"Of course. I trust you. We will survive together, I know that. Are you worried because of the rumors about the Titan King?" This topic is always very critical and he usually doesn't like to talk about it, but this time I decide to address it directly.

"He will come. I just want you to be safe, when it happens." He sounds so confident it gives me goosebumps.

"Perhaps. His followers will definitely try. But love is stronger than anything else. Especially our love. We will get through it." He doesn't look convinced, so I turn his face towards mine and kiss him.

My voice sounds soft, when I speak again.

"Luke, I love you. I could never leave you. Not even the King of the Underworld will be able to keep us apart. I promised to be by your side in every moment of our lives. You are my soul and without it I am damned."

This seems to reassure him, but I feel like he's not telling me something of great importance. But I don't want to push him, I know he will tell me when the time comes.

He always does.

⚔️⚔️⚔️⚔️

As the day comes to an end, I say goodnight to my siblings and report for my night watch duty. The situation has been a lot more worse the recent weeks. Kronos exists, my worst fear was confirmed. And he is building an army, that is so strong that it will be difficult to fight against it. But what I'm really worried about are the rumors about our people, who have also joined his cause.

Nobody knows who, the spies have been hiding ever since. I've never felt like I was paying more attention to my words than I am now. The only person I don't have to hold back to is Luke.

But even with him I notice the effects of the bad news. The circles under his eyes are darker than ever and his nerves are so frayed, that every little thing makes him want to explode. His temper is hanging by a thread, that is increasingly threatening to break. And I'm trying everything to prevent this.

No matter if I try it by making him laugh (which has become difficult), massaging his tense shoulders, trying to kiss him to the point of forgetfulness (usually it's the other way around) or when he takes out his frustration by burying himself deep inside me. With every thrust of his hips, I feel him relax, his hand so tight around my body as if I would run away, if he didn't hold me close enough.

He's changing and I'm trying my best to maintain his good sides. That he doesn't completely lose himself in his responsibilities and the pressure, that he has, because he is a member of the camp council.

Besides, I can't complain, when he fucks me until I can't breathe aynmore and I block out everything around me. When he comes, he whispers the sweetest things in my ear. Even if sometimes they sound so protective, that I could almost come from his voice alone.

When he whispers to me how good I am for him or how much he loves being able to have such a power over me like that - maybe it should scare me, but I trust him like no one else.

My mind concentrated his best for my shift, but when I finally go to bed after quiet some time, my eyes quickly close.

Looking back, I wish I had never let myself sleep that night.

Because, when I close my eyes I see waves. Hear the seagulls screaming in the sky, the fish swimming in the water and the distant cries of strangers.

It's all unusual and the bright light would blind me, if I didn't avert my gaze. And as soon as I do it, I see a ship. It's huge, rust shimmers in the sunrays, the anchor shows that it's been in the same place for a while now.

I feel something pulling me towards it, pushing and burning in my chest, leaving me with a tremor that I can feel, even in my deep sleep.

As I flit through the window like a ghost, I feel paralyzed. My blood freezes, I want to disappear immediately and in my mind I scream at myself to wake up.

But it's no use, whatever is here, someone decided that I have to see it. Only then, my wish will be fulfilled and I can wake up. So, I hide in a corner, there are scratched picture frames above me and broken glass is scattered on the floor. The monsters that loudly crush the glass ahead of me seem unstoppable.

I tremble as I look at at least seven dracaenae, several shaggy hellhounds and set my eyes on gigantes, that take up almost the entire room.

But that is nothing compared to the terror, that grips me when I see my classmates. My friends. People I trusted, who I fought alongside, for who I cared about. People I would have sacrificed myself for. They all betrayed me. And I feel close to tears. When I want to turn away, I hear a voice that almost brings me to my knees.

It's Luke.

My faithful and caring protector, my heroic love. Someone, to which I had dedicated everything. He was my life, with every single breath I took. The motivation behind my every action. The reason I wanted to survive in this cruel world. He was everything I had and everything I will ever have and in that moment it was abruptly taken from me.

I didn't have the strength to concentrate, it was as if every fiber of my body was on fire, triggered by the torment of my suffering heart. Seeing him like that, in black armor, Kronos' silver mark glittering around his neck, instead of his colorful necklace. A stoic, hostile expression on his face, his hands gripping his sword, it all hurt too much to watch.

And as I sank to the floor and covered my eyes with my hands, I was still forced to listen. I couldn't understand why he was saying such things.

"With every day he becomes stronger, with every participation in our army, we become stronger. Everything is planned, the camp is weak. Just like all of its residents. The surprise is on our side, because we will show no mercy. We will kill anyone, who does not confess to us. Do you hear me? No hostages will be taken. Only Hades population will be expanded."

The screams around me are so loud, so angry and horrific that I feel tears running down my cheeks.

I don't want to see any of that. The person infront of me is not my Luke.

A kind of fog creeps around me and I feel cold, it seems too late to forget it now. When I notice the golden coffin and Lukes hunched posture, the scar on the side of his face, I realize he is praying to him.

To the fall of Olympus. Kronos.

I want to cry, to scream, to be angry - but I just feel like every part of my heart is breaking and will never be whole again. Luke will never again be the one to heal it.

My consciousness leaves the ship until I finally wake up, but I can't move at first. I feel lost, my muscles are stiff and after a few seconds I notice that I'm shaking. But it's not because I'm cold, the summer air is wafting in the air.

Such dreams are rare, but are like the own scary predictions of the future.

And then it comes all back so me, the memories, that have just turned my whole life upside down. Traitor. The word appears in my mind, I feel like I almost can't breathe. And then there is a finger on my cheek, gently stroking the skin and my chest immediately becomes warm.

I know this gesture.

When I open my eyes, I see his loving eyes and the smile that covers his mouth makes my heart clench in sorrow.

It was just a nightmare. Luke would never betray me.

But the whispers in my head say otherwise.

As we continue to look at each other in silent, I notice his furrowed eyebrows.

"What's wrong, my love? Did you have a nightmare? You look scared. Don't be afraid, I'm here. I will always protect you." His voice is so calm, so usual loving and it makes the butterflies in my stomach fly around like crazy.

He is so beautiful.

As he briefly turns his head to tighten the blanket around me, I see his side profile and the scar. Reminders of my dream crash onto me like a lightning strike from Zeus himself.

I sat up abruptly. Luke is a servant of our enemy. How could I ignore that? I feel like I'm almost starting to hyperventilate. The thought, this nightmare, Luke's appearance, this evil feeling - it makes me sick. And I'm suddenly so afraid, more than I have ever been in my life. But I can't tell if it's the fact that I just found out he joined Cronos' army or that he broke my heart doing so.

I see him tense, my panic seems to be affecting him too.

My thoughts are so confusing, I don't know what to do, I have to tell someone. I have to-

His hands find their way to my cheeks, cupping them gently to direct his gaze towards himself. I would have preferred not to look at him, but I have no choice. His eyes search mine.

Then, as if the weight of Atlas punishment was put on his shoulders, he lowers them. His lips tremble slightly and his eyes look at me, as if I am the most valuable thing in the world and he is about to lose it.

"You know it." He doesn't have to say what he means by that. We both know.

I want to break away from him, but he won't let me. He's always been much stronger.

But everything still feels so different, light surrounds us and I can't really feel my body.

"Listen to me, please. I can explain it. Please-" The world goes silent, before he can finish his sentence.

It is too much.

I stifle a scream. I want to jump out of bed, but his hands hold me close. I only manage to fall to the ground, breathing heavily, but his arms are much stronger and I'm still weakened by my dream. He trys to hold me in a position, so that his back hugs me. His hands grab mine and one of them covers my mouth to silence me, when I want to scream for help.

With any other person, I would have known what to do. With anyone but him, I could have defended myself without any problems. But it wasn't just anyone and what he had done to me, the betrayal he had committed, was nothing I could handle.

I tried to wriggle out of his grip, to kick him, but the more I cried and the more hysterical I became, the easier it was for him to have control over me.

And for the first time, it scared me.

"Please calm down, I have to explain it to you- you have to know, that I never wanted to deceive you, please-" I notice how his voice is failing and he has to pull himself together, to not to lose his composure.

When I shake his hand away and want to yell again, he grabs my neck with such a warning force, that no sound escapes me.

I tremble in his hold. Tears stream down my cheeks and I literally feel my heart breaking.

Then he starts whispering in my ear and his grip feels like a tragic prison.

"Nobody can know. I never wanted you to find out. Not until I convinced you, that it is the right thing to join him. Because he will win, sweetheart. I want us to win by his side." His voice sounds so confident and at the same time, as if he was a completely different person.

Tears continue running down my face and he slightly let's go of me, so he can comfort me.

"If you would just listen to me, you will understand my actions. Please, just listen to me-" but the world blurs infront of my eyes and I am only able to whisper three words, before darkness surrounds me.

"You betrayed me."

⚔️⚔️⚔️⚔️

When I wake up, my head hurts so much, that it takes me several minutes to open my eyes. When I finally do it, I almost have a heart attack.

I recognize the similarity of this room from my dream. When I stand up, I run to the round window and look out, being only able to see the blue sea. Feeling empty and alone.

When I want to step out the door, I expect it to be locked. But instead the handle turns and I step out of the room. I'm so surprised about that, that I'm acting without thinking twice.

As I walk around the next corner, the deck creaks and I see an ugly creature in front of me, that makes every instinct to escape kick in.

I run in the other direction, but every turn makes me more desperate and, without any consideration, I run into the hall, I was so afraid of.

It is filled with all kinds of ciders, and I also see the figures of my classmates, wounded and unhappy.

It's all so overwhelming, that I dont even see him standing on the podium, in the first place.

But as the monsters try to grab me, his voice echoes through the room with an affable authority.

"Nobody touches her. You hear me? Nobody. She is under my protection." I almost freeze into a stature, as he comes towards me and I have no way of avoiding him. No weapon is within my reach, his eyes notice my growing panic.

"Everyone leaves the room. Now." Nobody discusses it, even if some roll their eyes or quietly protest. His authority is unquestioned, it sends a cold shiver down my spine.

When the last doors slam shut, we stand a few meters opposite each other.

"The doors are guarded." It's the first thing he says.

When he tries to approach me, I lose my nerves and run to the corner with the broken glass, that I saw in my dream. I take them in my hands.

I see his eyes widen and he stops in his tracks.

"You- you want to fight me?" He actually sounds surprised and sad. Like I was the one who betrayed him and not the other way around.

"Don't come any closer. I may not have been able to do anything last time, but if you take one step closer then-" I don't know what to say. In no scenario did I ever think, I would have to threaten him.

But despite my warning, he comes towards me with his hands raised, the panic within me so palpable, that I can feel every muscle in my body.

I dodge, when he is only a few meters in front of me. Right into the next corner. As far away from him as possible.

"Princess, you can't keep me away forever. I've always loved that about you. You need me as much as you need to breathe."

It's supposed to sound sweet, but his words make me feel sick

"I'd rather suffocate." He didn't expect that. My words hit him so unexpectedly that he is almost speechless. Almost.

"I won't hurt you. You just have to let me get to you and I'll show you everything. You will understand, believe me." He really thinks, I'll just stay by his side and let him explain.

"Are you crazy? You're a traitor, Luke. You- you betrayed everyone. You betrayed me. How could you do this?" I suppress my tears, because that's exactly what he's waiting for. That my defense becomes weaker. I can't allow this.

"You dont understand. I always told you I would protect you. And I can only do that, if I'm on the winning side. And I am now. We are." His eyes flash with a craziness that makes me tremble. I don't recognize him.

"Why are you acting this way? You are doing the wrong thing - you give up everything. You're giving up on us." Tears leave my eyes and I see him take a few steps in my direction.

"I'm doing the right thing for us. You'll see. You just have to trust me, please. You know I always win. With the power he gives me, I will be invincible. You don't have to worry about one of us dying in this war anymore." I can't move, even if I wanted to, I wouldn't have a way out now. He's too close.

"You are wrong. I would rather die in this war than join this monster and his deceitful army." The shards in my hand hurt, but I don't let them go. They're the only thing I can use to defend myself.

"You would leave me?" His eyes are staring into my soul.

"Would you fight me?" Every word is more intimidating.

"Would you stop loving me?" His words are like his own shards, leaving deep wounds in my heart.

He's standing right in front of me now, looking at me like I'm fragile.

Then he whispers "Would you kill me?"

In the next second, he suddenly has my hands in his, making me drop the glass. Be is only a few centimeters away from me now, his eyes are looking into my own.

"Would you, princess? Then show me." Suddenly he does something, I would have never expected. He takes out his sword and puts it in my hands.

His own hands go behind his back, his eyes tempting me. I feel all the blood in my body drain.

"Do it. I can't live in a world, where you don't love me anymore. In which you are no longer by my side. I am yours. That will never change, just like my love for you."

I can barely hold the sword, it's so wobbly in my hands. He stands in front of me and gives me every chance to defeat him. But I can't move.

It's quiet for a moment, then I see new hope in his eyes and when he speaks again, the tone of his voice melts my heart.

"What did you say a few months ago, you would always let me win? Let's win together this time. Please, just listen to me." His hand strokes my cheek. Wipes away the tears.

Then he drops his hand and grasps his sword, letting it fall to the ground.

He takes my hand instead.

"Follow me." He pulls me behind him, closer and closer to the golden coffin, it's like I'm in a trance, but when I finally feel the cold aura of something cruel, I'm able to think clearly again.

"No-" I don't want to be one step closer to this thing.

He turns around so quickly, that I can only slap his cheek, before he grabs me again.

"That was for kidnapping me. Let me go now!" I want to avoid his grasp. But again he does something I don't expect.

He holds me still, catches my gaze and then, kisses me so gently that the feeling alone makes me almost completely defenseless. His hands cup my cheeks, grip my hair, hold my body.

This is probably his worst trick. I've never been able to resist one of his kisses. And he knows that. He uses it against me.

Then he murmurs words against my lips, that barely reach my ears.

My heart is pounding in my throat.

"You feel this? We belong together. It is not written anywhere on which side we need to be. As long as we are together." His fingers stroke my lower lip, his figure towers over me and for a moment my surroundings fade. It's almost like always.

But he's not wearing his orange t-shirt, his expression isn't relaxed, and I don't hear any insults from the camp members in the distance.

"You're manipulating me." I am powerless against him. I thought we were on the same team, that no one had more power over the other one. But I was so wrong.

His eyebrows furrow again, and when his hands try to pull me against him, I hit his chest, without thinking, with the only piece of glass I hid in my pocket. But unlike I expected, nothing happens. The shard bounces off his skin and falls loudly to the ground. I can only stare at him in disbelief.

"How-" He just looks at me worried, no anger is visible in his eyes.

"You can't hurt me. I have the curse of Achilles upon me." I suddenly become aware of the effect the lake Styx in the underworld hast and I almost fall to the ground at the realization, my knees weaken.

"That was a test earlier. You wanted to see if I would kill you-" my voice fails.

He just looks at me sadly and smiles in regret. My heart becomes heavy.

"And I knew you wouldn't hurt me on purpose. You would never hurt someone you love. Not if you'd kill me in the process." What can I do? He knows me better than anyone, he can see right through my every thought.

"I can't do this, Luke. I-I can't be together with you, if you are like this." I'm serious, but he doesn't believe me.

"That's what you think, but it's a lie. The sooner you admit it to yourself, the more pain you avoid. Our souls are linked together, without me you are not able to live. I know, that you will continue to love me, no matter what I decide to do. That's how much you love me. You would rather die than not loving me."

I can't listen to him. I can't.

But his eyes are like all the promises in the world. He is my world. How could I ever forget that?

"Please come back with me, Luke. I-I won't tell anyone, but please. Let's go, let's forget everything, please-" I cant deal with this anymore. It's like he's draining all the energy out of me. More with every word, that leaves his lips.

"I can not do that. It will stay the way it is now. Don't fight against me, fight with me. You are so smart and loyal, you will be convinced. He will show you." His eyes now flash with something that frightens me. I see his hunger for power, something that has always been dormant within him.

"Luke, the only thing I ever really wanted was you. No power, no war, no prosperity. Only you. But I'm about to lose you. Don´t do this to me, I beg you." My hands find his face, stroke the skin and I look into his eyes. But they are no longer the same ones I fell in love with.

I never thought he would love having power more than he loves me. It breaks my heart.

"I have decided. Nothing will change about that. Not even your pleadings. I'm sorry." His eyes reflect my desperation.

"What's holding you back? All you need is me." He says it so confident, that I almost wonder, why I don´t agree with him.

But my conscience has always been my greatest strength.

"I won't betray them. I couldn't live with myself, if I did." He takes a step back.

"But you could live without me? You would rather be by Jackson's side than mine?" His words hurt me. But he speaks the truth.

"I love you Luke, more than I ever thought was possible. But just as you put power before me, I put loyalty first. And I'm not sorry about that."

Frustration finally seeps through his perfect facade. I wonder how long he's been playing with me. The thought of it makes everything inside me tighten.

"I am not letting you go. Our fate is set. You will recognize it too and when that happens, you will be on my side."

His conviction frightens me, but this time it doesn't freeze me into a statue. Now, I'm running away.

And luckely, he didn't expect that.

For a few minutes now I've noticed one of the windows, that doesn't look very stable. I just have to jump against it to open it.

"NO!" Luke's voice echoes across the room, loud and warning, but it doesn't stop me. Before he can catch up with me, I jump towards the window, my shoulder hurts, but I was right, it breaks.

But I didn't think about the height difference and I realize it might be too late to do something about it now.

As I try to hold on to the wall outside, two thoughts repeat in my mind.

Either I die or I'm trapped.

Then I hear Luke's voice. He sounds desperate and at the same time angry, like I have never heard him before.

The wall is slippery and it takes every bit of strength in me not to fall, I know it would be my death. I hold on to the broken wall.

"She is outside. Get her back, NOW!" My muscles hurt and I don't know what to do. Then I hear the loud beating of wings. Before I can see who it is, I hear Percy's quiet voice. I feel like crying.

"Drop down, I've got you." I have to trust him. So, I let myself fall without thinking.

Then I feel myself landing on something soft, I hold on to it and my knuckles turn white.

The screams and shouts of the monsters make me tremble, I just want to get out of here. Even if it means, that I perhaps will never see Luke again.

"Come on, now. They'll be here soon." As the wings of the Pegasus move towards the sky, towards freedom, I let the tears fall. The wind is beating around my ears and I can only see in the corner of my eyes that we are getting closer to the clouds.

"I'll find you!"

Luke's threatening voice is the last thing I remember as I close my eyes from the grief of leaving him.

#percy jackon and the olympians #luke castellan #x reader #greek gods #love #betrayal #angst #percy pjo #percy series #annabeth chase #percy jackson

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barblaz-arts · 8 months

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You might not read this from the many comments you get, but thank you for portraying Enid so beautifully. This might be an unpopular take, but despite how people outside her family treat her, Wednesday is privileged beyond belief to have a family so considerate and warm in their love for her, the kind most of us (and moreso in real life, because the bar is so low) can only dream to have been born in.

I’m autistic and I work in adult psychology, so clients who lash out at the world and lack empathy because of the hurt they received from their families or their environment are a dime a dozen. It’s a common saying that we can always choose to be kind no matter our circumstance but I can’t tell you how rare it is to find someone that actively chooses to be kind and mature in their empathy on their own despite their family not providing them with the affection they deserve. Enid is the fictional embodiment of that to me, at least in how I interpret it, and it’s wonderful to see how you depict her in your art.

I adore your time -travel story so much since it shows how Enid returns the love she’s entitled to but never been given, to her own daughter in such abundance because she’s grown them on her own with the people she chose to be her family.

I’m obviously rambling because you have such a way to explore this admittedly mid show into stories of your own that are so profound. Thank you so much for the constant works of art you’ve given us.

I assure you, I read and treasure every kind word I receive in my inbox :) I'm just not really able to reply to all of them as quickly as I would like, and I'm sorry about that

And thank you so much for sharing your thoughts! There are people involved in making a show, and although I've constantly said that this one is honestly not one of the best I've watched despite how attached I've come to it, I'm really grateful to the people involved in creating Enid, including of course Emma who brought her to life. For all it's flaws, one of the best thing to come out of it is Enid Sinclair. She's such a fascinating and darling character. As The Addams Family is an IP that has been prone to many incarnations, I really hope that in the future when it gets more adaptations, Enid is also along for the ride.

#asks #it's really quite impressive #Wednesday has been such a beloved character #and enid is a new original character that held her own beside such an iconic character likw Wednesday #that's pretty amazing

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ciaossu-imagines · 17 days

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For the sleepover

Ronin Warrirors

Character Talk, or really anything. Admin choice. Big into the fandom and love to see thoughts, character talk, ship ideas, anything and everything.

Oh my gosh! I am almost screaming on the other side of this screen because you don’t even know how happy this ask makes me! Nobody else I know has ever watched the show or is interested in checking it out, where it’s so old. I love it dearly though, but have never really met too many other fans or been able to find people in the small fandom it has who are interested in talking to me. So this is just very exciting for me! Do you have any favourite characters? Moments? Thoughts on the characters? While I don’t really ship, do you? Do you have OC’s for the fandom or are you canon only? I’m so interested. I’ll do the character talk meme, at least some of them, because you mentioned it, but always up for any talk!

Why do you like or dislike this character?

So, I will say there’s really no characters that I actively dislike fully from this fandom. Even Talpa has his charms and while Yuli can piss me off at times, he’s a literal child and he’s acting like a child would in a scary situation.

I really like Ryo. I think that while he’s stubborn and a little foolish at times, he’s very brave and he does genuinely care about people. He’s got a big heart and I personally have always just gotten the vibe that he’s very simple as a person, not very materialistic or judgmental about others based on class or looks.

Sage is an interesting one because honestly, I remember hating him as a kid when I first watched this. He was easily my least favourite character but he’s grown on me through the years. I think it really was just how stoic he is in comparison to some of the others that threw me off him as a kid but as I’ve aged, I really love how mature he is as a person. Learning the story of how he got his armor also endeared him to me, because that’s just a really cool story.

Cye is adorable. I love how calm and even-tempered and just kind he is, and his affinity to water has always appealed to me. Despite moving around a lot, I’ve been blessed in that a lot of the places I’ve lived have only been, at most, a couple hour’s trip to either large lakes or to the ocean. Currently live close to water – it’s something that relaxes me and that really appeals to me as a person, so he’s always been my second favourite probably because of that.

Kento amused me the most as a kid when I first watched this and there hasn’t been any rewatches where he hasn’t made me laugh at least once or twice. While he can definitely be stupid, you can tell he genuinely cares about people and he comes across as one of those well-intentioned, slightly stupid extrovert himbo friends and as I have the extreme privilege of having a couple of those in my life, cannot say how much that energy can make a life better.

I’ve made no secret of the fact that Rowen was among my first fictional crushes and has been one of my longest fictional others. I love everything about him, plain out, and though I see his flaws, he’s perfect.

Mia got the short end of the stick because of the time Ronin Warriors came out. Honestly, she got a little better writing than a large majority of the female characters at that point because her story wasn’t made a huge romantic thing and she did have some use and was shown to be very intelligent. It’s just that well-rounded, incredibly fleshed out female characters with goals, dreams of their own, and lives outside of the boys of the story weren’t really part of straight shonen in the 90’s. I think she deserved better but I see a lot of positives as she is.

Yuli, as I mentioned, does piss me off at points but at the same time, I do see him as being an interesting character. He had a lot of potential but again – he’s a kid in a very scary situation and honestly, it’s amazing how brave he could be at times.

The Ancient One…always been kind of neutral. Extremely plot important but I really wish we’d learned more about him.

I want White Blaze as a pet.

Talpa had that voice and I loved it.

I remember, again, as a kid, hating Lady Kayura. Kind of felt jealous of this really pretty, super strong, badass girl. I’ve grown to really enjoy her over the years though and I think having a strong female who could fight and had this great storyline was really great for the show, especially as (kind of mentioned) the female representation at the time wasn’t great all around.

Anubis had one of the first ‘villain redemption’ arc that I remember ever seeing and he’s a large part of why I love that trope and those types of story arcs.

Kale is…just kind of there for me. Honestly, he’s cool enough, but he’s not someone I think a lot about.

Sehkmet had one of the coolest character designs of the show. Also love his snarkiness.

Dais had the coolest powers. I remember thinking that, despite being a bad guy, he was one of the coolest characters and honestly, his power set is still really great to me. I found his fighting scenes really enjoyable, probably the most out of all of them.

Favourite canon thing about the character?

I love the fact that Ryo is more of an introvert than you’d expect someone of that character archetype to be. He definitely comes across as the guy who needs his alone time the most and I think he gets that alone time by being in nature.

Sage really has this incredibly rare and wonderful sense of honor and a real strong sense of right and wrong and I wish at times that I was more like him. He’s also not too proud to take the fall for someone else, to save their honor.

Cye had the most gentle heart and he really felt like he was the one who kind of facilitated and helped build the friendships I do see the Ronins having with each other. I feel like he’d be the guy that all the others would share their secrets with.

I adore the fact that Rowen enjoys mystery novels, but that’s coming from someone else who really enjoys that genre and likes imagining recommendations he’d give and talking about our favourite mystery stories together.

Kento seems like someone who really does try to make everyone happy and comfortable. He feels like the guy who would notice someone being left out in group gatherings and who would go out of his way to include them.

Mia really is insanely smart and hard-working and I admire that greatly about her.

Yuli really did want to be helpful and he was always trying his best to be brave.

The Ancient One tried his best.

White Blaze is perfection.

Talpa had a great voice and wonderful hair.

Lady Kayura was the first really bad-ass female character I remember.

Anubis had a great story arc all around. I recommend watching just for that alone.

Kale’s character design was actually pretty cool.

Sehkmet never gave up. He definitely seems like the kind of person who doesn’t let anything keep him down, at least not for long.

Dias would have made a killing as a Vegas magician, just saying. He seems like he’d have the charisma and showmanship to really rock that career too!

Least favourite canon thing about this character?

Ryo had a real issue, at points, with being almost borderline arrogant and stubborn.

Sage was almost too proper and needed better communication at times.

Cye definitely needed better communication skills.

Rowen, for someone really smart, had a real annoying habit of just blurting out super obvious stuff (I like to blame it on some maybe subpar writing at points).

Kento needed to learn to look before he leaped because he pulled some stupid shit that he would have realized wasn’t for the best if he’d thought for just a couple moments.

Mia needed to stop putting herself in danger.

Yuli REALLY needed to stop putting himself in danger.

The Ancient One could have stepped in a lot more than he did (I have always held that he was kind of under-utilized and I would have loved to see him explored more).

White Blaze is perfection, fuck finding a flaw.

Talpa was obviously a crazy megalomaniac, so there’s that.

Lady Kayura…okay, but she’s 12, why did we need a shot of her bare ass.

Anubis obviously had some arrogance issues, however, he was able to work on them so go him!

Kale was too loyal to someone who he had no right to be that loyal to, but I actually love that. It’s just the only flaw I could really find to talk about. I think it makes a lot of sense for his character and for the kind of relationship the Warlords and Talpa had.

Sehkmet felt a little one trick at times in his attacks but that’s okay, he was trying his best.

Dias….needed to be explored in terms of his personality more.

If you could put this character in any other media, be it a book, a movie, anything, what would you put them in?

Short and sweet, not going to lie, I put every fictional character into a KHR! Crossover-verse at some point. I definitely love thinking about the Ronins and the Warlords as part of Mafia family, with the Warlords in particular being a family of elite assassins who kind of have a rivalry with the Varia. The Ronins are a smaller family being targeted by this group of assassins who turn to the Vongola for help and protection.

What’s something you have in common with this character?

With Ryo, we are similar in that we are more introverted and we both love nature and animals. I don’t have a lot in common with Sage, though I’d like to think I act with honor and have strong morals. I feel I have the most in common with Cye, not just the love of the ocean, but the gentle personality and the slight tendencies to go along with our friends and to keep things calm and peaceful and happy with them. Me and Rowen share a love of science and books. Kento is pretty much my opposite, though I like to think that, though shy, I’m quite friendly and try my best to make others feel happy and at ease. Like Mia, I’m hard-working. Like Yuli, I can sometimes run off at the mouth without thinking about it. Like The Ancient One, I’m not around a lot. Like White Blaze, I’m quite silent. Like Talpa, I stick to my goals even when I suffer set-backs. Like Anubis, I can learn to admit I’m wrong. Like Kale, I have some cool looking scars. Like Sehkmet, my makeup game is strong. Like Dias, I love magic.

What’s something the fandom does when it comes to this character that you like & 8. What’s something the fandom does when it comes to this character that you despise?

I honestly have not been able to be in the fandom enough to really see what’s largely done with the characters, so no opinion here!

9. Could you be roommates with this character?

I feel like I could easily be roommates with Cye, Rowen, Ryo, Mia, and maybe Kale. The rest of them maybe not.

10. Could you be best friends with this character?

I feel I’d have the closest friendships with Cye, Rowen, Kento, Ryo, and Mia.

11. Would you date this character?

I would date Cye and Rowen!

12. What’s a headcanon you have for this character?

Ryo takes really fantastic photographs, thanks to living with his father. It’s just that photography never ended up sparking any passion for him but given a good camera, he can take good pictures. It’s only the crappy quality cell phone cameras that he just can’t seem to grab good pictures on.

Sage follows his father into the legal sphere in a way when he grows older, getting into law. He becomes a criminal prosecutor.

Cye knows how to sail, can paddleboard, and has gone white-water rafting.

Rowen has hypoglycemia that gets worse as he ages and in his later years, he has to use a glucometer and properly treat the condition.

Kento really loves pro-wrestling.

Mia honestly has a real guilty pleasure for young adult romances, especially things like Twilight. She was definitely Team Edward.

Yuli makes good grades in his school years and graduates in the top three of his class in high school.

Talpa gets songs stuck in his head super easily and hums when he thinks no one can hear him.

Lady Kayura, at some point, learns to ride a motorcycle. She really loves seeing just how fast she can go on them and has had some close calls, though she has never actually crashed.

Anubis, despite having really long and thick hair, doesn’t really do anything special to take care of it. He’s definitely one of those ‘3-in-1 shampoo, conditioner, body wash’ guys and because of that, his hair is really dry and prone to split ends.

Kale, despite how fearsome he looks, has a real soft spot for cute baby animals.

Sehkmet would be a fan of celebrity gossip.

Dias would be a huge Pen & Teller fan.

13. What’s an emoji, an emoticon and/or any symbol that reminds you of this character or you think the character would use a lot?

Ryo and Rowen both call more than they text and when they text, it’s very minimal. Ryo sometimes uses the thumbs up and 100 emojis.

Sage never uses emoji’s. He types very properly, with proper capitalization and punctuation.

Cye uses very basic, starter emoji’s, like the smiley faces and hearts that he knows for sure what they mean. Some of the emoji’s people send him he gets really confused by.

Kento uses gifs way more than he uses emoji’s. He’s got anime reaction gifs for everything.

Sehkmet throws together the most random combinations of emojis just to fuck with people, so they’ll try super hard to try to figure out what he means.

14. Assign a fashion aesthetic to this character.

Ryo dresses really simply, honestly. He’s very much a jeans and t-shirt, maybe a henley long sleeve shirt in the fall, a sweater in the summer. He’s drawn to reds and other vibrant colours. He doesn’t really like socks a lot and wears a lot of sneakers. He’s the type who wears his clothes completely out before he thinks about throwing them out and replacing them.

Sage has a more proper, almost preppy sort of style. He’d be the type to throw a blazer over a t-shirt and some well-fitting jeans, to fancy up an outfit. He wears a lot of natural fabrics too. Polyester and cheap materials don’t appeal to him and he doesn’t really bargain shop. However, like Ryo, he does wear his clothes until they’re in such a bad state that they need to be thrown out, so it’s not like he’s wasteful with the money he spends on clothing.

Cye has a very pastel, beach-casual sort of style. He likes capris, linen, blue hues, and dockers. He prefers pull-over sweaters to hoodies, and has no problem wearing board shorts around town.

Rowen switches his style fairly often, honestly. He can’t settle into one particular style but just kind of buys what he likes, making an eclectic mix of different styles. He’s not really all that great at colour coordination though, so some of his outfits kind of aren’t that great, not going to lie.

Kento’s very relaxed in his style. It’s muscle-tops, t-shirts with the sleeves rolled up with jeans or overalls. He lives in his sneakers, loves crazy socks, and has a couple different baseball caps.

Mia has a sort of preppy style. I honestly feel like she’d wear anything Blair wore on Gossip Girl.

Yuli kind of copies the style of the older boy’s a lot. He goes through phases with all of those styles until he really figures out what he likes and what suits him the best. He’s very experimental with fashion and it takes him a while to figure that out.

Lady Kayura seems like she’d rock leather pants, just saying. I feel she has two moods – goth girl or dainty princess and sometimes she even mixes those two together. It’s really all down to how she feels that day.

Kale seems like he’d kind of dress like a biker. Like, that’s really the vibe I get from him.

15. What’s your favourite ship for this character, 16. What’s your least favourite ship for this character & 17. What’s a ship for this character you don’t hate but it’s not your favourite that you’re fine with?

I honestly don’t really do canon shipping. I admit to having some self-ships in the fandom and I used to have a friend who was into the fandom and whose OC I really shipped with Kento! Honestly, I cannot not ship my friend’s OC’s with their canon characters of choice because I love my friend’s OC’s and seeing what they do with them.

18. How about a relationship they have in canon with another character that you admire?

I have to say that I really love Cye and Kento’s friendship. I find Ryo and Sage’s friendship interesting, along with Ryo and Rowen’s friendship. I wish we’d seen a lot more of the dynamics between the different warlords as well, because that’s something I’ve always been really interested in and would love to hear people’s opinions on!

19. How about a relationship they have in canon that you don’t like?

I know a lot of people see Ryo and Mia as a couple but I just never saw it and really don’t feel it, but that’s just me.

21. If you’re a fic writer and have written for this character, what’s your favourite thing to do when you’re writing for this character? What’s something you don’t like?

I really love writing self-inserts for this fandom, though I keep those only for me because I know they won’t interest the other fans. I love doing headcanons for any of the characters, getting the chance to dive into who they are, what they enjoy, all the different parts of their characters. I also love thinking about and writing the platonic little things in between the characters and trying to figure out what relationships they would have between them, both platonically or who wouldn’t get along, who would be kind of frenemies, rivals, etc.

22. If you’re a fic reader, what’s something you like in fics when it comes to this character? Something you don’t like?

Honestly, I love all fics, though I do tend to skip the super shippy ones that focus only on romance, with no other plot points. I will happily take any and all fic recommendations for this fandom, not gonna lie.

#admin chatter #character talk #ronin warriors #ryo sanada #cye mouri #rowen hashiba #sage date #kento rei fuan #kale #dais #sekhmet #lady kayura #mia koji #yuli #anubis #talpa

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mollykeaneyviscom · 1 year

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Major Project - Contextual Research

Growing Up Too Quickly

Social media, pampering parents, increased pressure to succeed – ‘kids these days’ deal with a lot. But is it making them grow up faster or slower than previous generations?

Kids these days don’t get to be kids anymore, say the adults who remember a childhood free from the rules, oversight and digital pressures today’s young people navigate. In some ways, it may be true. The average parentallows their child a smartphone at age 10, opening up a world inaccessible to previous generations, with unlimited access to news, social media and other privileges previously reserved for adults, forcing them into emotional maturity before they reach adulthood.

There’s a term for it: ‘KGOY’ or ‘kids getting older younger’, meaning children are more savvy than previous generations.

Rooted in marketing, the idea is because of KGOY, kids have greater brand awareness, so products should be advertised to children rather than their parents. The theory has been around since the noughties, and ever since, experts have attempted to prove out the early demise of childhood by pointing to causes ranging from the age at which they get a smartphone, to the fact that kids are now watching more adult television programmes, to the problem of teenage girls being pressured to think about their appearance due to greater exposure to beauty ideals on social media.

Yet though many worry that kids may seem to be growing up too quickly, there’s also evidence that they could, in fact, be maturing more slowly. Gen Z are consistently reaching traditional markers of adulthood such as finishing education and leaving home later than previous generations, and studies have shown that teenagers are engaging in ‘adult’ activities such as having sex, dating, drinking alcohol, going out without their parents and driving much later than previous generations.

Technology may be exposing kids to more, making them intellectually savvier. Yet whether they are actually growing up more quickly may be a matter of perspective. It may also be time to update what we think of as the milestones of maturation, and what it really means to grow up fast.

What is childhood?

To understand how we measure growing up, it’s important to think about what most people mean by “childhood” and “adulthood”. Excluding biological measures such as when children hit puberty, our understanding of childhood is largely a social construction. People have different views of what it means depending on when and where they’ve grown up, making it difficult to measure or quantify.

In most countries, people are considered adults from the age of 18, but this varies. In Japan, you are legally a child until you are 20, while in other countries such as Iran, individuals as young as nine years old can be treated as adults in law. Definitions of childhood have also varied historically: in the 19th Century, it was common for children under the age of 10 to work, and the idea of being a “teenager” didn’t really exist until the 1940s. Before then, adolescents were simply seen to transition straight from childhood to adulthood.

How, then, do we understand the idea of growing up more quickly – and is it really the case? “The basic stages of children’s development aren’t changing,” says Shelley Pasnik, senior vice president and director of the Center for Children and Technology, a research group based at the Education Development Center, New York. “The external world is constantly shifting, but children’s cognitive and emotional milestones stay the same.

And Pasnik points out, it’s difficult to measure and quantify the idea of “growing up” in a social and cultural sense. There are so many cross-cultural, linguistic and developmental aspects to childhood that it’s almost impossible to pinpoint any one thing as being the primary influence on how quickly children grow and age.

There’s also evidence people tend to idealise their own childhood, imagining it as a more carefree and happy time. It’s possible adults who complain that children today are maturing more rapidly may well be comparing them to a skewed and nostalgic view of their own youth that doesn’t quite compare to reality.

‘Media-delivered ideas’

“What has changed is [kids’] exposure to information,” says Pasnik, “through video platforms to caregiver phones; social media platforms and interactive speakers with unlimited capacity to push content.” Children are now constantly getting what Pasnik calls “media-delivered ideas” – content aimed at adults and viewed mostly over the internet – much sooner than previous generations.

“There is increased exposure to violent or sexual content at a younger age, which causes a desensitisation and normalisation, because children’s brains aren’t fully developed to process this in a way that an adult brain can,” says Dr Willough Jenkins, an inpatient director of psychiatry at Rady Children’s Hospital, San Diego. “Of course, part of the exposure is to other people, too. Children can communicate with strangers without supervision, which leads to an increased risk of cyberbullying or adult conversations that they are not equipped to handle.”

All of this, says Pasnik, can lead to children confronting adult realities before they are developmentally ready to do so – something that is often interpreted as ‘growing up too quickly’.

Jenkins is quick to point out, however, that technology is neither bad nor good, and that there’s plenty of scaremongering around youth’s increased access to social media. It’s an oft-cited anecdote that in previous generations parents worried about their children watching television, and now social media has become the new societal ill for people to fear.

In fact, exposure to content not available to previous generations can be a good thing. Technology enables children to independently seek knowledge and to think critically, due to their access to a wider range of sources. For children in remote areas, the ability to find more knowledge and social connections outside their immediate family can be invaluable, as can accessing support and community for minority groups.

Or staying young longer?

Technology is far from the only social force affecting how children develop, and at what pace. Over the past few decades, parenting has become more intensive in the USand many other countries, and children today can expect more structured play, extracurricular activities and parental supervision than previous generations.

The topic of how this affects children is hotly debated – one argument is that heightened expectations placed on children to optimise their time in adult-like ways lead to unnecessary stress (and a loss of an important, carefree stage of childhood), while another argument is that they lead to a generation of pampered young adults unable to think for themselves (and a prolonged and unhealthy childhood).

“There’s been quite a bit of discussion especially in recent years, about children’s lives becoming more institutionalised and controlled,” says William Corsaro, a professor emeritus of sociology at Indiana University. He points to hovering parents and children’s involvement in extracurricular activities and lessons outside school, and to “overstated” fears about children’s safety and lower birth rates (meaning fewer at-home playmates) as factors that make children mature more slowly.

This theory is echoed by Jean Twenge in her 2017 book iGen. Based on a survey of 11 million US-based young people, Twenge argued that kids born after 1995 are, contrary to much popular wisdom, growing up more slowly, engaging in milestones traditionally considered “adult” far later than their older counterparts.

This is, in part, because smartphones allow children to socialise from their own home, making them less likely to engage in activities such as drinking with peers or sex, but she also points to an evolutionary idea known as ‘life history theory’, which classifies maturation of species into “slow” and “fast” strategies – the safer the environment, the more slowly they have to mature.

Today, in an age of low birth-rates and high life-expectancies, children tend to be closer to their parents and grow up in a safer environment, and thus can mature more slowly. This means that they aren’t pushed towards independence in the same way that children growing up in a fast maturation environment – what previous generations experienced – might be.

Although something of a wildcard, the pandemic also seems to be exacerbating this trend. Children stayed at home instead of going to school, weren’t able to travel to attend university and were furloughed from the jobs that offered a first taste of independence. By most traditional measures they were unable to grow up at the rate that children just a few years ahead of them had done – yet by other measures they were exposed to uncomfortable truths and social responsibilities such as mask-wearing that forced them to confront the adult world more quickly.

A matter of perspective

Though evidence indicates that in a cultural and social sense children aren’t growing up any more quickly than they ever have, this may be to do with how we understand what it means to grow up.

Viewed one way, children really are growing up more slowly, seemingly kept young by a socially distanced and digital world where their parents are their closest real-life companions. Viewed another way, children are simply showing how it looks to mature in today’s world. In fact it could be easy to argue that a broader view of life outside a hometown and local friendship circles given by technology, or an ability to navigate an online world, is just as valid a set of milestones and markers of growing up as having sex, drinking, driving and moving out of the family home.

Ultimately there are many factors that influence the rate at which children mature, and the circumstances are highly individual. Our understanding of where childhood ends and adulthood begins – and the line that separates them – is blurry, and subjective. Society isn’t static – it’s constantly evolving, and so what childhood looks and feels like is constantly evolving too. Getting ‘older’ might seem more complicated these days, but kids don’t know the difference, just as their parents didn’t know a life without the internet or television or telephones – or whatever it was their own parents worried was making them grow up too fast or slow.

Thoughts:

This article talks more about growing up quickly or pace generationally, and the debate surround if kids grow up more quickly today due to prevalence of technology or if they are more sheltered etc. While I think this debate is incredibly interesting I think it is too subjective and there are too many factor to consider for me to pursue it as a route. People will always disagree of have their own opinion on the debate and people are stubborn and with projects like that it tends to result in issues and arguments and getting stuck a lot and I would just prefer to avoid this.

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dontbipanicjonsa · 3 years

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I’ve been reading Sansa fanfic and honestly I am so fucking tired. What is up with people making her out to be some selfish, mean, vindictive, I-don’t-even-fucking-know-what-else little kid????? Where the fuck does this come from???? What books are you reading??

How is it that in a book where characters are committing murder, rape, and even fucking baby exchanges, it is SANSA who needs to repent for her ‘crimes’?

Tell me again how Sansa is a shit person because of one mean thing she said to Arya in a fight but Jon, canonically called a ‘bully’ was the fucking paragon of good behavior as a child. Who’s gonna write the edgy Jon-was-a-pre-canon-bully fanfic huh?? That’s right. Fucking no one. Because we know Jon’s poor behavior at the Wall was driven as much out of his lack of awareness and appreciation of his privilege as it was by his struggle to reconcile the Wall of his dreams with reality. His behavior was an anomaly for him.

Tell me again how Arya’s seeming class blindness in AGOT is so much better than Sansa’s raging classism. Who’s gonna say it was Arya’s fault Mycah got killed, because she didn’t recognize or appreciate her own privilege? Fucking no one. Because she’s nine, a child, and we’re not monsters.

Sansa was selfish for expecting things that were already promised to her, but Arya wasn’t? Sansa is selfish for wanting to go to a tourney that’s being held in her father’s name. Sansa is selfish for expecting to be...married to her betrothed? Sansa is selfish for romanticizing/building up the life she is already expected to live? Sansa is selfish because she says Arya will ‘ruin everything’? Lemme tell you I have an older brother and I sure as fuck have ruined plenty of things for him as a kid stuff his friends lent him, that one time he went to watch some Hunger Game movie with his school friends and thought I would be mature enough to tag along and I really really wasn’t. That’s kind of what siblings do???? If Arya comes across as less ‘selfish’ than Sansa, then that’s because she’s hardly ever denied, and even when she is she’s made to understand why. Arya wants to learn to fight? Arya wants to flout expectations? Arya wants to take Syrio along on the ship? She gets it all. Is she selfish? NO. She’s a child. THEY ARE BOTH CHILDREN.

Sansa is mean, for having sibling fights with Arya? Never mind that she’s grieving the death of a part of her, Lady. Jon lashing out at the Wall may be an anomaly, but Sansa lashing out isn’t? WHY. Sansa is vindictive? Sansa who cried when fucking Joffrey dies? Sansa who is repeatedly described as sweet? Innocent? Courteous?

When exactly is Sansa vindictive? When she doesn’t trust her father- who has been a pretty shit parent to her and fully deserves her distrust- to make the best decisions for her (as he hasn’t in the past) and decides to break one (1) rule in her life to...go to another adult to explain her problem? When she lashes out at Arya in her very valid grief because no one seems to give a flying fuck about helping her deal with it? When she utterly and absolutely ices out Tyrion, the fully grown Lannister man she has been forced to marry? Fuck you.

Ok no. I know. She’s power hungry. Just dying to be queen. I quake in my boots when I read her POV, honestly. Never mind that she is not the one who makes or even influences the decision to betroth her to the prince. (Alright she does in the show. But hey, Arya of the show is a misogynist, Jon is an absolute moron and Tyrion is the good guy so I won’t put a whole lot of stock in show characterization.) Never mind that Sansa’s desire to marry a ‘prince’ is driven more by her romanticizing and wanting to have a life like the songs, and less to do with power. But nooo. Sansa wants to marry a lord even as late as ASOS. She’s willing to marry Willas because he’s a lord.

Right. Because it is so much more terrible for a girl to want to marry a rich, powerful, upper class guy to get her out of her current shitty situation where she is utterly powerless, than it is for a slave owning girl to order the massacre of 13-years-old, upper class children. People forget that their fave wouldn’t be the character she is now if she hadn’t been married off to a powerful man all the way back in the first book, who unwittingly gave her a position of power of her own for the first time in her life. Or there wouldn’t be any dragons, there wouldn’t be any khaleesi. Isn’t that how patriarchy works??? Fuck Sansa for daring to want what Dany got- control over her own life via marriage.

I’m just so tired. The point of Sansa’s character is that she’s empathetic. She’s soft. She’s polite and courteous. She’s nice to Sandor when he doesn’t deserve it. She calls Jon half-brother because that’s the politest term she can use. She stands up for others (Dontos, the people right before the riot, Tommen, fuck she even warns the Tyrells about Joffrey) even when she’s at her most powerless. She cries and feels bad and prays for her abusers. She’s unwilling to play ‘the game’. She chooses to continue to believe in and place value in the songs and stories as ideals that deserve to be lived up to in the midst of a harsh reality that has driven lesser people to nihilism and bitterness. This is who she is. To dismiss these things for the sake of making her out to be some mean and petty little girl is to misunderstand her entirely.

But who would deign to lower themselves to the perspective of a pre teen girly girl anyway, right?

#sansa stark #sansa stark defence squad #anti daenerys #i guess #anti fandom maybe #someone recc me jonsa fics that don't butcher my girl #NOT #anti arya #tagging it anyway because apparently some people think I'm criticising arya???#I'm not but ok

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keijislove · 3 years

Text

Challenging Fate: Tom Riddle X Reader

A/N: warnings: LONG ASS

“S’cuse me Professor!” a timid looking first year poked his head in through the door of your Potions class, “May I borrow a Y/N L/N?”

“Well, yes, of course.” Slughorn said impatiently, “Miss L/N, you may go.”

You rose to your feet and left after the first year in confusion: what did he want you for?

As if he’d read your thoughts, the tiny boy squeaked, “The head boy’s been asking for you... he said he’d curse me if I didn’t call you.”

You scoffed in utter disgust: how very like him. You crouched down to the boy’s level and spoke gently, “I’m sorry... but I don’t exactly think it’s a good idea for me to see him right now. If he dares to curse you, I’ll jinx his tongue off.”

Seeming frightened, yet not wanting to argue with a full-grown sixth year like you, the boy scurried off down the corridor.

Watching him leave, you muttered to yourself, “Nice try, Riddle.”

------------

“Y/N!” your friend Margot chanted, “C’mere!”

“What?” you asked, walking over.

“Your rounds have changed,” she explained, “We’re not together any longer. I’ve got to be with that swotty Hufflepuff prefect and you’re set with the other Slytherin prefect. Head boy.”

“What?!” you groaned loudly, “What for?! I know he’s perfectly capable of doing his rounds himself! He just wants to - I dunno what he wants from me!”

“I reckon he fancies you, mate,” Margot seriously spoke, “And I don’t see what you’re complaining ‘bout, he’s perfect.”

“A perfect arse, yes,” you said dismissively, “And he doesn’t fancy me.”

“Maybe he wants to be friends with you?” she asked.

“He’s lost his chance,” you fiercely said, “And these rounds are going to be murderous.”

-----------

As predicted, your prefect duties made you want to commit murder. To kill this stupid, arrogant, full-of-himself Slytherin standing beside you with an irritating air of superiority and smugness.

“Did you honestly think that you could evade me forever?” he asked you in what you thought was more of a sneer than anything.

“You’re exploiting your privileges as a head boy,” you pointed out in anger, “You’re supposed to take care of the school, not annoy some poor girl to death with your endless ‘peace offerings’!”

“Why have you been ignoring me for the past five years?” demanded Tom in a voice that shook the corridor.

“Because you’re an arse,” you said indifferently.

“You-” Tom drew his wand and made a sort of strangling gesture.

Your eyebrows rose up questioningly as you stood your ground, unflinching and not intimidated by his superior persona.

“Touché, Riddle,” you said, “Threatening people to get what you want. Real mature.”

Tom made a sort of hoarse grunt, dropping his arms limply to his sides before speaking, “I don’t know what I’m supposed to have done.”

“That is exactly how I felt five years ago,” you deadpanned, checking your watch, “And our time’s over. Goodbye, Tom Riddle.”

----------

“But I don’t get what he is supposed to have done.” Margot muttered as you climbed into your four-poster bed.

“That is something strictly private,” you curtly said, wrenching the hangings closed and burying yourself into your blanket.

Lying there, you thought back to the torturous year you had endured after what seemed like an unbreakable friendship suddenly went horribly wrong.

Your next few rounds with Tom continued smoothly, him bugging you and you refusing to talk to him.

“What’re you gonna do after school?” Tom had abruptly asked one day when you were patrolling the corridor.

“Certainly not what you are going to do,” you muttered.

Tom looked confused, “Huh?”

“Oh, you know,” you dismissively said, “Lord Voldemort.”

“How do you know about that?” he demanded furiously.

“I may be a year younger than you, but we’re still in the same house,” you coolly spoke, “I didn’t see you fancying the former when you were in your second year.”

“I told you, that was not my fault!” Tom angrily snapped at you. He hated it that you were pointing out his faults. Because you were right.

“Was it mine, then?” you asked, “My fault?!”

“I never said-”

“Oh really?” you spat, “You didn’t say? Because if I recall correctly, Tom, you did say. You said a lot of things.”

“Do not shout at me,” Tom’s face morphed into a snarl so revolting that even you had to take a small step back.

Pleased that he had frightened you, he spoke, “Come do your rounds like you’re asked to. Time’s over for now, you can leave. And take this.”

He thrust a lopsided package at you. You furiously opened and closed your mouth several times, Tom’s sneer widening with each one, before you gave up and glared straight into his face before whipping around and out of sight.

Tearing open the package once you had reached your dorm, you found the shard of a mirror, as if it had been cracked into two. You had a sneaking suspicion what it was and that theory was confirmed once you saw a single, dark eye whip in and out of sight. Roaring with fury, you threw it into your trunk, ignoring Margot’s snap of, “Really now!”

What had happened between you and Tom, nobody knew. In fact, you didn’t think there was a soul at Hogwarts that knew what had happened. Thinking back to the days when you were both young, tears often stung the corners of your eyes.

You and Tom were best friends. Perhaps even closer – like a half without which the other always remained incomplete. What happened? Where had it gone so horribly wrong? Easy. Magic.

----------

Your school day were finally over – you were a full-grown witch who had come of age. As you had told many people earlier, it was your ambition to become a Healer. Yet you sat here in a small yet comfortable house with your house elf, Hokey.

“You is looking nervous today miss,” Hokey remarked. You were kind to house elves in general, leading to this bond between you and Hokey.

“Anxious, Hokey,” you muttered, “I don’t feel so good.”

“Is you ill, missus?” Hokey worriedly asked, “Hokey can make tea-”

“No, no,” you tried mustering a smile, “I just... my cousin Hepzibah is meeting someone today, and I don’t have a very good feeling about it.”

“She is upsetting you,” Hokey angrily said, “That miss Smith is upsetting my mistress.”

“Nobody’s upsetting me,” you hurriedly said, “The man she has asked for... I... I know him.”

“The young Master Riddle?” Hokey asked, interested, “Hokey likes master Riddle. He always knows what to say to Hokey.”

“Yes, he does that,” you muttered in distaste.

Finally deciding that you couldn’t take it anymore, you sat up, “Hokey, I have a job for you. You will hide in Ms Smith’s Manor and tell me exactly what takes place between her and Tom Riddle.”

And with a sort of gratifying salute, Hokey disapparated with a loud crack.

---------

After about two hours of nonstop pacing and wringing your hands together, your elf apparated into your living room.

“Well?” you asked, “Did you hear anything?”

“Yes, miss, Hokey is hearing lots, miss!” she squeaked, eyes shining with excitement, “The young master Riddle has asked Ms. Smith to show him her two prized possessions!”

“Er, what were these possessions?” you asked, steadily growing more anxious, terrified your suspicions might be correct.

“A locket, miss,” Hokey earnestly said, “And a cup. She – she says the locket is his, miss, Salazar Slytherin’s! And the cup! Very pretty cup, miss, she says it belongs to-”

“Helga Hufflepuff?” you asked in a horrified voice.

Hokey nodded.

“Hokey, was he.... was he wearing some sort of bracelet or- or a ring or...?” you breathlessly asked.

“A ring, miss,” she answered, “Black stone, miss, looked expensive to Hokey.”

Trembling slightly, you nodded, “Thank you Hokey, you may leave.”

TWO DAYS LATER

THE DAILY PROPHET

RESIDENT OF DIAGON ALLEY – HEPZIBAH SMITH, 54, FOUND DEAD INSIDE HOUSE

“Oh my god,” you whispered, laying the newspaper feverishly in front of you. You buried your head in your hands, thinking back to the time you’d been extremely confused to have found a talking diary in your friend’s trunk. It all added up now, what he was doing, where he was, what he was.

Grabbing the shard of a mirror you had sworn to never use, you desperately looked into it. You were uncertain as to what you should do, so you resorted to lamely calling, “Um, Tom?”

No response.

You could’ve sworn you’d seen a small dark eye flash into sight, but you couldn’t be sure, for it was gone the moment it came.

“I don’t have time for this!” you whispered angrily to the wretched mirror, “I know you’re there! I know you’re listening! And I... I know what you’ve done.”

A flash of brown – gone.

“Tom,” you desperately said, “Tom, please listen to me. If maybe we could just... talk this out?”

For the first time in what felt like hours, a pair of cold, dark eyes flashed into the mirror.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The voice was monotonous, constricted and cold as the eyes on the handsome face it originated from.

“I think you do,” you quietly said, “You did it, didn’t you? You killed Hepzibah Smith.”

“How did you-”

“Because I know you, Tom, I know you. I know what you’re really like!” you angrily cried, “You think you’re so secretive, which is true, I doubt your ‘Death Eater’ friends can tell if you’ve done something. But I know you. I know how you go about things; I know what you’re up to, I know what you’ve done and what you’ve become. And I know what this will lead to.”

“You don’t know anything about me!” his voice snarled with fury, “You, sitting there, you-”

“Tom, please just – just come over to my place for, even a few minutes if that suits you,” you desperately said, “Please.”

“Whatever you’ve got to say won’t change me-”

“I’m not saying it will,” you quietly said, “But I want to do what a friend does-”

“Now she wants to be friends,” Tom furiously bellowed, “Six bloody years of trying to convince her – but no! Let me tell you this, L/N, Lord Voldemort does not have friends. Lord Voldemort is a frankly terrible friend-”

“But Tom Riddle is not,” you spoke.

This statement seemed to have some impressive effect on him, for he said nothing for a solid five minutes. Then, voice quavering in the slightest, he said, “Don’t freak out if I Apparate.”

--------

Sure enough, a few seconds later, there was a crack and a man wearing the Borgin and Burke’s employee T shirt appeared in your living room.

“Make this quick.” Tom said seriously.

“You have something to do?”

“No, but I’d rather not stay too long with you,” he snapped.

Ignoring this unnecessary jibe, you guided him to the couch. After a few minutes of a deafening silence, you spoke, trying to keep your voice even, “I know you’ve been making Horcruxes.”

If there was anything he’d expected you to say, it was certainly not this. His eyebrows rose to a point where they disappeared into his neat, dark hair and he asked, “How in the name of Merlin’s saggy left trouser legs-”

“Secrets if the Darkest Art,” you explained, “You left it open on the common-room table one night.”

Tom swore loudly.

“And, I found your ‘amusing’ talking diary.” you snapped, “D’you have any idea how long it took for me to find out what you were up to?”

“You did though, that’s amazing in itself,” Tom breathlessly said. Suddenly, his face shifted into the grin you knew so well, “I knew you were smart.”

“And I though you were too!” you spoke, “Apparently not, if you think this is what you’re going to do with your life!”

Tom’s grin faded instantly.

“I don’t-”

“- want to listen to reason,” you firmly stated, “Come with me.”

Several protests later, you had managed to wrench the boy out of his seat and into your bedroom.

A shallow stone basin lay there, with odd carvings around the edge: runes and symbols. A silvery light was coming from the basin's contents, neither liquid nor gas.

“A Pensieve?” Tom asked inquiringly.

You placed a finger on your lips and dragged him over before extracting a long, silvery, thread-like substance. It swirled in the basin menacingly as Tom saw a younger version of himself floating in it.

Giving you a questioning look to which you nodded, he ducked inside the Pensieve.

A small boy was sitting on a bed in a greying room with a book in his hand. This mundane occurrence was maddening and he found himself constantly glancing at the door, as if waiting for someone.

Sure enough, the door opened and a small girl of around ten with H/C hair and E/C eyes walked inside.

“Hi,” the boy grinned, “What do we do, then?”

“I wanna eat something,” the girl pouted, “They gave us horrible food for lunch today.”

“Rightfully said,” the young boy muttered, “Let’s sneak out, the old cat’s got sandwiches stashed up inside her personal pantry.”

The girl gasped, “Tom! We’ll get caught!”

“You doubt me too much, Y/N,” the boy faked hurt.

A woman was shouting at two meek children at the top of her voice.

“Sneaking out! What were you thinking! No supper for both of you-”

“But Mrs Cole,” the young boy called Tom interjected, “Why does she not get any supper? I led her here myself. It was me.”

Mrs Cole and young Y/N gasped at the same time.

“You – you nasty boy!” Mrs Cole yelled, “You trick all my poor children into your little schemes! I’m telling you, you’re not right in the head!”

A slightly older and more-haughty looking version of Tom Riddle was striding up the orphanage’s hallway, disgruntled.

Upon entering his room, an eleven-year-old Y/N flung herself upon him in a hug, saying, “Oh Tom! “I missed you so much since you left!”

“Get of me!” Tom shouted, throwing her off with all his might, “Don’t talk to me, you filthy muggle!”

“Filthy mug- what are you saying?” the girl asked, “What-”

“I don’t know you,” he coldly stated, “And get out of my room.”

A much more reserved eleven-year-old Y/N was moodily stabbing her potatoes at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall.

Beside her, a dark-haired boy occasionally kept poking her side to get her attention.

Refusing to listen, she resumed a deadpan stare at the plate in front of her, disgusted at the boy next to her.

How could he think all was forgiven when he had said such horrible things to her?

Landing straight onto the bedroom floor, you pointedly looked away, refusing to meet the eyes of the man next to you.

You could practically hear the cogs turning over in his head as his eyes bore into your stiff figure.

“I-” he thickly began.

“You don’t have to say anything,” you waved off, “But that was just part of it. I showed you a bit of your past... now let me show you a bit of your future.”

Tom looked mildly confused for a few minutes, but his expression cleared as you pointed to a glass ball on the table.

“Ah,” he spoke, “You were always good at Divination.”

“Thank merlin I was,” you muttered, “Look in here.”

Muttering an incoherent incantation under your breath, you watched, satisfied, as a face swam into focus inside the glass ball.

Well – if someone was kind enough to call it a face, that was.

It’s skin was paper-white and tautened, with two slits for nostrils, a thin mouth and a pair of cold, red eyes with vertical slits for pupils. The cruel-looking mouth opened and whispered an unfamiliar name – “Harrrrrrrry Potterrrrrrrrrrr.”

There was a sharp gasp next to you as the ball nearly went flying. Not caring, Tom looked at you in a mixture of disgust, revulsion and horror, “What – what was that thing?!”

“That was you,” you quietly said, “It’s where you’re going.”

“That was me?!” he asked in a horrified whisper, “That – that – monster?”

“Yes,” you moaned into your palms, “It was.”

“What did it – what did I say?” he asked, “A name... I don’t recognise it...”

“Harry Potter,” you spoke.

“Who?”

“He is born about forty years later or so,” you explained, “I looked into his future as well.”

“And?” his patience seemed to be wearing off.

“And you attacked him. Every chance you got, because he deprived you of your power when you tried to kill him. You know why? Because of love. Love, Tom, this baby showed you sense when you were too blind to see it. And you know what happens in the end?” you whispered in anguish.

“What?”

“He kills you, Tom, he kills you,” you miserably said, “You ruined your own life and this poor boy’s as well – I – Oh, just look!”

Repeating the incantation, you gestured Tom to look into the ball once again. The adorable smiling face of an eleven-year-old swam into focus – one which quickly morphed into horror and uttered out a bloodcurdling scream. An innocent boy.

“Please tell me this isn’t true,” Tom whispered, “No, it can’t be, it-”

“It is Tom, it is you!” you said desperately, “This is why – I’ve been telling you all along that-”

“I think.” Tom said loudly, voice shaking, “I told you that nothing you would say would change my mind?”

And you watched in absolute horror as your once childhood best friend, now unrecognisably inhumane, Disapparated out of your house.

------------

Working as a Healer in St Mungo’s was fairly fun, just as you’d expected, and you were perfectly content tending to your patients all day, buzzing from ward to ward.

"Healer L/N." a crisp, abrupt voice startled you out of the little daydream. "New patient. It's extremely critical."

"Can't it-" you asked, gesturing to the occupied beds in your ward.

"Wait?" the head Healer asked, "Afraid not, Y/N. This one insists to be attended to by you."

"Well, okay." you muttered, nonplussed.

Following her into the magical maladies ward, you gasped at the sight of the frail body in the bed. The head Healer swooped out, slamming the door as you took in what you were seeing.

Tom Riddle was lying down, thin as a twig, pale as a sheet and trembling, but his features still forced into what was evidently a pained smile.

"I-you-what on Earth?" you sputtered.

"The cu-" he winced in pain, trying to sit up as you rushed to help, "The cup is the only one left."

Realisation washing over you like an icy wave, you nearly burst into tears.

"Oh - god, not so much as a warning, Tom..." you muttered, "I could've helped and-"

"And nearly died in the process?" he scoffed, "Haven't I put you through enough grief?"

He stated right into your eyes with a blazing passion. You didn't know what happened, somehow your lips were now glued together and moving in sync, not a care in the world.

FIVE YEARS LATER

"Daddyyyyyy!" your bubbly daughter, Merope, was speeding around the room on a toy broomstick. "Daddy look, I did it!"

"Amazing, sweetheart." Tom smiled at the child, "You'll grow up to be a proper woman like your mother, one day."

"Daddy, how did Mummy and you fall in love?" Merope abruptly asked out of nowhere.

"Ahh..." Tom muttered in embarrassment as you stuffed your knuckles into your mouth to suppress your giggles, "Daddy made a lot of bad choices, darling. Mummy helped him see that."

"Ooh, so you were like the mean Prince?" Merope asked excitedly.

"Yes, exactly. And your mum was the princess." Tom smiled.

"Yayy." Merope squealed, "I'm gonna get married one day, watch!" she ran upstairs, humming loudly.

"Princess Y/N?" you asked, cringing.

"Oh cmon what else was I supposed to say?" Tom demanded.

"That's true." you agreed, "But try not to call me that. Like, ever."

"Alright, beautiful." Tom pressed a swift kiss to your temple.

"Princess." he added before running for it as you scrambled furiously after him.

A/N: WHOOO I HOPE YOU LIKED THATTT. Also, I’ve noticed that the most popular oneshots are my Tom Riddle ones...

#Harry Potter #harry potter x reader #tom riddle #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle x you #tom riddle x yn #oneshot #angst #fluff

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jjungkooksthighs · 4 years

Text

Claws of Carnality | jjk (3)

Pairing: alpha jungkook x omega reader

Genre: smut, fluff and angst, abo/werewolf, fantasy

Rating: 18+ / nsfw

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: alpha!jungkook, possessive!jungkook, omega!reader, mentions of breeding/ruts/heats, mentions of a mark, slick and pre-ejaculatory production, scenting

Summary: Denial is a crude adversary in how it battles your want to accept the alpha that has no shadings of doubt that you are, in fact, his mate. He intends to clear things up for you using the one surefire thing that will, however, prove him to truly be yours and you are utterly helpless in denying him.

A/N: So, here we are with part three already. Goodness, I can’t even believe how much attention this has gotten so far. Please keep it up, you guys! It really feeds my creative juices and encourages me when you guys let me know what you think of the stories I put out! Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this next part. Things are gradually going to begin to heat up from here on out and I can’t wait to see how you all react!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

You try to swim through the flurry of thoughts, the floundering disbelief heavy as you wade through it in spite of the amused alpha that watches you with interest as a myriad of expressions pull at your features. It’s difficult to keep yourself afloat amidst the frenzy of emotions that cascade over you and your alpha notices this in the way that you fidget where you stand in the intensity with which he regards you, your hand clutching at your skirt as you inhale through your mouth to attempt to replace the air that eludes you.

One side of his lips curl upward in the effect he’s already had on you that only deepens in your silent refusal to acknowledge the final piece of the puzzle that would complete the missing segment of conviction still lost to you.

Unlike you, Jungkook has not an inkling of doubt that you are, without question, his mate. He just hadn’t known up until a few moments ago that you are to become something so much deeper than that to him that will extend into his very being, for even he’d had no idea that you are destined to be his soulmate in which there hasn’t been a pair of wolves like that for many thousands of years.

It all made sense to him in how his eyes had found themselves magnetized to the opposite pole that was you, the constant holder of his attention whenever he’d had the privilege to watch you frolic gleefully with your omegean friends outside your den whenever he passed by through the cover of the trees after a successful hunt, his own scent masked by the carcasses of his prey.

He’d never been able to explain the inexplicable pull toward you that had grasped him unrelentingly until he’d managed to catch sight or smell of you to, nor had it made sense to him why he’d wanted to express himself to you so much so that he’d danced in effort to satisfy the need to bask in the warmth of your intrigued gaze.

Nothing has ever quite compared to the way that his blood races when you so much as glance at him now that he thinks on it and gods, he longs for you to welcome him now as eagerly as you had in the supposed safety of dreams. Even now the inebriating scent of you coils around him insistently as it begs for him to come closer to the source of his desires he’s yearned for years.

It’s not as easy for you to accept this, though, no matter how much you want to. Gods, do you want to.

In light of the bright, flashing signs that your wolf begs for you to heed, there’s a very critical and very crucial element that would immediately clear away the lingering shadow of denial that this creature before you who looks to have been crafted by the gods is meant to be yours. Despite your purebred omegean blood that distinguishes you as the most desirable of candidates for alphas and betas alike in the rarity of such a pedigree amongst your dynamic, Jeon Jungkook could have any bitch in the pack he wished. There were many others who you believed looked better and gave back to the clan more than the likes of you.

And in the self-consciousness that shackles you, you had not breathed through your nose ever since he’d brought himself near to you.

You know that the moment that you do, there will be no question that he is truly the alpha from your dreams who boldly claims to be your mate, for the intoxicating scent of him that had incensed itself within you was deliciously unforgettable in the way it had had the power to have you glistening with slick upon a single whiff. Because of that, there is a reason that you are actively choosing not to use your olfactory sense around him.

Only within the old tales written in the aged tomes of the compound’s archives which are guarded by the elders has there been recollections of the legendary lupi antiquis, who were the progenitors of the werewolf race. These creatures were incarnations of nature manifested into the bodies of wolves that were guided by the moon’s phases in the celestial body’s wish to bring life to the earth in the decay of other mythical creatures who had grown sad and lifeless without a companion in the rarity of which they’d roamed.

To ensure the strongest and most virile of the moon’s creations found a partner that would belong and be designed solely for them, it was said that the celestial body preselected the companion that would remain loyal to them through the entirety of their life by choosing for them a soulmate.

The word has always been held close your heart in the romantic radiance of it, for it had been said that a bond unlike any other in the lupine world burgeoned inside two destined mates of the moon’s selection among the abilities that allow such a pair to share thoughts and feelings with one another telepathically across insurmountable distances in addition to each wolf becoming stronger where the alpha would gain physical strength while the omega would be granted bolstered mental fortitude.

Beyond that, the wolf’s kiss could cure their mate of any ailment or injury in the profound love that the very essences of each kindred spirit were vested with as they longed ardently to remain together forever and always.

As time had passed, the word had begun to become diluted in the diminished occurrences with which it happened as more and more werewolves began to populate and once pure bloodlines became soured by excessive mating between different partners in the uncontrollable ruts and heats that drove them to couple with any wolf in the vicinity under the influence purely of instinct to breed and be bred.

Many lives had been lost during the violent, territorial battles over both alphas and omegas for a partner that often ended in death to one or both participants, the lessons of the past yielding guidance to the future generation in the written accounts left behind so that the fledgling pups that came after would not suffer as the earlier wolves had.

It is why your pack has such defined rules now upon the presentation or period of peak maturity for omegas in particular because they have always been the desired mates of alphas.

It is also how the entire compound knows when the last happening of two soulmates was, which had been a couple thousand years ago when the moon had aligned with the rest of the planetary bodies in the meticulously structured history courses that all maturing wolves are mandated to take and in the stories that are told by the elders over annual bonfires celebrating the bonding between two wolves.

Perhaps it is all of these reasons that have every wolf in your pack still able to discern and recognize the defined series of circumstances that present themselves between two lupine creatures fated to be each other’s soulmate.

The first is the gift of sight, which allows each lupine creature to see the eyes of their mate. The second is the gift of olfaction, which is the amalgamation of scents naturally produced from the scent gland of each wolf that have the ability to draw the undivided attention of their destined other so temptingly that it causes sudden production of either slick for omegas and pre-ejaculative fluid for alphas. In addition, this one is powerful enough that it acts an effluvious vice that impulses each lupine creature in how desirously their mate can waft into and draw out their counterpart’s instincts.

Each are granted only after the moon lights a path for them both to meet, but that hadn’t happened for you, had it? After all, it’s not like the stream of dreams every night after the last eclipse could have-

Your eyes widen bigger than the largest star as your cheeks color themselves redder than a ruby in mortification as the links join together and that has the alpha relishing in the adorable sight of you as he croons, “There it is, pretty. I knew you would come around soon enough,” he fixes his sight on the edge of a reddened petal he’d caused to fall over your skin in your supposed fantasy that peeks out from under the edge of your silken choker that he wishes he could tear off of you and add more of his marks to as he continues, “Did you think I would allow my mate to suffer with how desperately you whined and how loudly you howled for me?”

You fumble for words in the embarrassment that soaks you as you try to speak past a mouth that is dryer than the desert while you shake your head like you’re in a daze and you might as well be in how incapable you are of rationalizing at this point.

“This can’t be… it can’t be possible.” You whisper quietly as if thinking aloud and Jungkook finds that he appreciates the sound of you, that he is pleased in how you’ve finally chosen to use that cute voice of yours and let him into your thoughts.

The alpha coos, “Oh, my pretty omega, but it can,” he takes one calculated step closer, “Come on, little omega, smell me. Do not think that I have not caught on to the fact that you haven’t used your nose in your efforts to deny this, to deny me.” His honeyed voice slathers itself over you, as you melt under its thickness, “You asked your alpha to come find you and I have, pretty. Now, it’s time for you to do the same. Scent me and see that I am the one the moon has promised you to, that I am the alpha you belong to.”

He delivers his words to you in the form of a command as he takes another step toward you only to have your heart beat faster against your ribcage, your wolf lowering its head in submission as you try to make yourself smaller under his searing, prompting gaze and the longer that you dangerously surrender yourself to those golden irises that are still speckled with the silver that mirrors your own, your resistance cracks and folds gradually under his increasingly prominent pressure. It can only be compacted and compressed so much until nothing remains and, unable to disobey his directive, you swallow a thick lump of nervousness down your throat before clearing it as he looks on expectantly.

His avid attention sears into you doggedly and, under its power, your omega blood boils in need to heed him and, purely driven by your body’s desideratum to yield to him without the input of any cognizant thought, your hand finds itself slowly and tentatively lifting toward the exposed neck that he has bared torturously against the obscenely opened shirt. The fluttery wings of anticipation flap animatedly within you as the alpha watches with intrigue, allowing you to slowly near him.

Your fingers do not stall as they ghost over the notch between his collarbones as you dare to allow yourself to touch the skin that tries to reach for you in the waves of heat that roll off of him and when you turn your hand so that the soft underside of your wrist just barely manages to rub against his sensitive scent gland that all but strains and pulses against you, your breath hitches as a deep rumble of a growl tumbles from his throat in response.

It is not a sound born of aggression, but of satisfaction that has your omega preening under its euphoniously low trill and when his fingers close around your forearm to possessively drag your radiocarpal joint back and forth over the intimate area that secretes pheromones wantonly for you, your wolf sings at his hot touch, at the way that his fingers curl deliciously over your delicate skin.

The whole time, his irises flash tellingly in gratification that has you helplessly falling for the way he looks at you like you’re the only thing that exists, the only thing that matters as he greedily drinks in the way your mouth has parted dazedly while he coats himself in your own essence that is produced richly from the glands in your wrist.

The scent glands of the neck were far stronger, far more potent, but right now, he will take from you what you decide to give. There will be time for more later, he is sure.

Your delicious scent is quick to consume him, the sound that drips from his lips deepening in pitch as your aroma drapes itself over him in its entirety before sinking into his very pores until he’s momentarily drunk off you, his pupils enlarging until there is only you.

“Gods,” he utters, “you smell like sin, pretty. You’re like a fucking aphrodisiac in how you tempt me.” Somewhere in his pants, his cock twitches to life at the mere scent of you as your carnal essence awakens something far too primal within him.

“J-Jungkook,” you whimper, your wolf baying in delight at his admission and wantful actions.

In response to him, your own irises dilate as your heart pangs wildly against your chest, breath a hard companion to come by in his overbearingly alluring presence that seeks your own in the warmth of his skin that reaches longingly for you.

You can’t begin to rationalize how long he slides your wrist sinfully against him as he makes a point of trailing your radiocarpal joint over the vast expanse of muscles that line his neck as they all but jump at your touch as the sound that tumbles from his lips darkens impossibly more only to draw out a whine from you. Minutes or hours could have passed since this started, but you have no care in the world because of how caught you are under his simmering stare.

Once he’s secure in the knowledge that succulent scent of you has smeared him to the point of no return, that’s when he pulls your hand back until he holds it under your nostrils while his mouth waters at the delectable waft of you through his own that sets his very blood on fire.

His fingers sink wonderfully into your skin and it is positively unholy in how his heat permeates you until you’re filled gloriously with it he orders, “Go on now, my pretty omega. Breathe me in until every last doubt is torn from you and all you can think about is me,” his breath is hot against your cheek as he inches impossibly closer in the need to be impossibly closer to you as you shakily exhale while he finishes, “Drink me in until this little body of yours is sated in the sweet recognition of the alpha that owns it.”

His words settle viscously over you and in the command of the alpha that you are helpless to resist with your omegean blood, you do. You did not want to fight this, did not want to fight him. It went against your baser instincts and nature to do so. It was all just your self-consciousness that had bound you back and away from him, but under his attention that does not waver in the imposing neediness of it that glints with a savage saturation dripping from his very being, you can’t withstand it. So, you obey.

The change is immediate.

Upon the first whiff of him that drizzles up through your nostrils to trickle fluidly like that of a delicious philter through you, your every cell is flooded with stimulation that is guided by the heady essence that is decidedly and uniquely him. He tastes of newly dewed grasses that are accented by an earthly underlayer and somehow it is all bolstered by the overwhelmingly delicious amalgamation of blooming gardenia, black vanilla and freshly matured pear.

A sudden deposit of slick finds itself between your folds that glisten to life and it earns a sharp growl from him as he brings one lip between his teeth.

He reeks of pungently dangerous desire that beckons your very being and your eyes roll to the back of your head at in its insistent invitation as he fills you with his quintessence and soon your body can no longer bear your weight in the way that his strong incense curls around you to have your limbs grow weak under its inexorable consummation of you.

Your weakly whisper, “Alpha…my alpha,” the concession quick to run through your veins as you yield to him.

Your legs begin to tremble precariously with each breath you take in effort to collect as much of him as you can, the familiar smell exactly alike to that of the one belonging to the wolf from your dreams as understanding and recognition saturate your being.

“Omega,” Jungkook breathes, satisfaction washing over him as he watches your body react so affectedly to him.

And when your body is no longer able to bear your weight in how quickly the alpha has drawn away their strength through his own power, he is there.

At the same time that your head falls back and your sense of equilibrium leaves you through numbed legs, one of his large hands finds its place along your nape while one muscled arm wraps around your back to pull you against the built planes of an aureate chest as he croons, “My beautiful omega. You’ve acknowledged me at long last. Such a good girl for me, you are,” he angles his head low so that his heated breath once more billows against you, “I’m going to take you with me to the forest now, pretty. Once we’re there, you’re going to watch me shift so that I can hunt just for you. When I return,” his pink tongue darts outward to wet his lips as his gaze surges with hunger, “I expect my mate to be waiting for me before I let every wolf in this fucking compound know that you’re mine when I claim you at the ceremony tonight.”

Your breath stutters at that and when his arms dip to collect you like his bride as he tucks you against the muscled chest that you subconsciously lean into you in the safety that pours from him that your wolf relishes in. Through it all, you can only barely utter, “As you wish, alpha.”

As he holds you close, you nuzzle your alpha and there’s a high-pitched, satisfied purr that easily cascades through your throat in the warmth and security that his able body offers. You care not how far your song of satisfaction is carried in the winds that swell against you only to roll tauntingly over all the alphas in the distance that Jungkook is in charge of as the pack alpha’s son who is meant to one day lead the compound.

All that matters is that you’ve found your alpha and that he, in turn, has found you.

High in the sky, the moon hides behind the awakening sun as golden rays begin to filter searchingly through the thick underbrush of the forest lining the horizon as far as the eye can see.

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nightswithkookmin · 3 years

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Hi Goldy, JK was bold in the past, around 2017-2019 (to me, gcf & rosebowl can be considered as ‘coming out’). But it seems he now prefers to stay closeted? E.g. he snatched JM’s hand in the Xylitol x BTS shoot, then looked at the camera. Holding hands is normal among members… a lot of his interactions with Jin, V and other members are more intimate than holding hands… his reaction makes me feel like he wants me to pretend I didn’t know…?

Sorry I've been a bit AWOL lately...

I'm busy being the man of my woman's dreams in a cis het anti black capitalist world

Fun times.

I saw that bit, uWu-ed and kept it pushing.

It's nothing new really. I think a few months back when I was out here screaming Jikook are toning down, acting super professional around the cameras yadda yadda people out here were looking at me like I'd lost my two delulu heads- but this segues into that theme for me and since I've exhausted the topic I don't know what else to add.

I've said before they've both been very conscious of the cameras within certain periods post October- again nothing new, they be like that every now and then every season every phase and the whys will always be up for debate in these ship streets- on that subject, I've read a lot of opinions yet I think like mine better and will stick to it. Thanks Kimberly of Delulu precinct. Walk along now. Lol.

Jimin was like that during the Coway behind the scene shoot too when he noticed the cameras and quickly elbowed Jk to draw him away from the gaze of the cameras.

I don't think it's because they stopped being 'bold' or want to pretend. It takes a lot of courage to even pretend or even perform the gay in front of the world and your peers. I think they are just awfully aware and conscious of the people they work with as well as corporation's growing awareness, intentions and interests in them. You just never know which saessang is moonlighting as a brand PA or marketing director for a company they are working with. You just never know who is watching especially whenever they have to work with these 'outsiders.'

Think of Dispatch. Were they not allies or business partners, they'd be careful around them too if they worked with them. Know what I mean?

Toning down and exercising caution is necessary sometimes. I don't know why some people think that's absurd or Tuktukkerish when I say stuff like that. Especially with the kind of reputation they have as a ship and just how commercially attractive that image is. It's common sense at this point if you ask me.

Jikook sells. Argue with the analytics. I don't know who thinks they don't. Must be the clowns and penguins. They sell period. BigHit knows this, BTS knows this, companies know this. We don't scream Jikook is a brand within a brand for no reason.

And a lot of the toning down in recent times has perhaps inadvertently mitigated that growing power and demand of them as a marketing resource- who knows, that could have as well been by design, intentionally instigated for obvious reasons which I argue is the case but don't mind me. I'm delusional, gay and apparently the man of my woman's dreams uWu. Gotta wear that pants in my relationship. Ayaya Hwaiting.

When you say he prefers to stay closested- I thought they are both closested already?? They both have never been fully out in our opinion. Yes our opinion because I feel we are like minded. Let's be delulu mates.

On the topic of closets, I want to save that for a separate post. What I can say though is they are both growing and maturing and learning and unlearning. Jungkook's desire to 'come out' or act reckless with his glass closet in my opinion stemmed from him placing more value on his personal happiness over other values perhaps because he was young and hadn't fully grasped the full and complex nature of happiness or understand the privilege he has as part of BTS.

We make decisions based on our values most times. It's how I make sense of their actions really. I'm more likely to assume things that are consistent with the values they each have expressed openly and tend to reject any theory that contradicts or is inconsistent with those values. A guy who values his career is less likely to act in a way that puts that career at risk. And I'm well aware their values evolve over time.

These days he has never quit as one of his mottos next to rather dead than cool- do you see the contradictions in those values? Rather dead means quitting life. Yet now he says never quit. Don't mind me. I'm in a grumpy mood.

But what I'm saying is, the desire to want to show the world who this person means to him is not fixed or a priority all the time. Now i think he values his career a lot more than before which means he is more likely to compromise and less likely to do things that may put that career in jeopardy.

Transferring that to his relationship, I don't expect him to be breaching the glass closet anytime soon. And if he do, it might be incidental and may carry with it consequences which I believe he is well aware and concious of now. Will that change? You bet. Again it depends a lot on what his values in a given moment are and which ones he prioritizes.

It's their relationship. They chose which aspects of it they want to share with the cameras. Some of it get written off as fanservice. Fair enough. But the nonfanservice passing moments has always been questionable- although I must say, I find all Jikook moments and interactions questionable lol.

It's just skinship. Holding hands I mean. Why would he be conscious of that right? II'vetalked about consequences and repercussions of their actions. Sometimes I think it's the off screen scolding that gets to him. The ones silently whispered at his back. I mean we saw his reaction when Jimin was getting scolded by the hyungs for sleeping late. He's talked about skipping sleep too if I recall correctly. Jimin is hyung and I know the hyungs expect him to know better and do better. I'd Imagine Jimin would equally scold JK if his actions reflected poorly on him too.

So why the hell would he not say anything to Jungkook for posting on his birthday when he hadn't posted at all for any hyung's??? Sigh.

It's sad his guards are back up- but it's for good reason I believe given the context of the situation.

I don't think dramatizing his dynamic with Jimin makes him bold. Nor does Jimin's propensity to over express himself with Jungkook mean he loves Jungkook more than. Both are extreme takes for me.

Nevertheless, I contrast that moment with a Tae Kook moment which is one of my favorite tuktukk moments. In this moment, JK is staring at Jimin, his whole body turned towards him. Tae notices the cameras and draws JK's attention to it. I think there are two such moments like that from the recent contents? I don't know I have to cross check.

Tae in that moment reminded me a lot of Jimin. Jimin does this too- play out their relationship infront of the cameras to the point one might say he likes to show off their bond- which is such a BTS thing to do too so no big deal. I mean they like to show off their bond and chemistry as Tae said a while back.

It's one thing for JK to hesitate to act with a member because of the cameras, it's another for him to act self conscious only after the fact.

And JK has always been him like this with Jimin as Jimin used to say- JK acts different with me off cameras than he is on camera. He had a history of suppressing himself around Jimin owing in part to his personality

He's talked about putting on a mask around people and in a recent interview Jimin have talked about pretending and acting one way when he's not- I mean I've ever talked about the boy being in love with the Maknae being a facade- one of many.

They have public personas which, from what BTS themselves say, looks slightly different or similar to what we see on screens- or that they've grown to be more like what we see on screens.

I guess what I'm getting at is that 'pretending' isn't exactly a new thing or out of the ordinary. Personally I'd say he's being conscious of his surroundings like Jimin was and not that he is 'pretending.' If you know what I mean.

If he's pretending he has good reason to I believe and we can only speculate on that- we can't know for sure why.

If Jikook is fanservice then there's no need for either of them to worry about the cameras picking up on their interactions or who's watching them.

What goes on in Tae's head? I wanna know.

I don't know where to direct this post because you didn't really ask a question.

I'm fine thanks for asking. I'm really fine. I'm thinking of joining Jimin in the gym at 3am to bench press and build some biceps to match my role in my relationship😒

And no I don't need any advice. Keep it.

This is going to be my attitude until we switch back😐

I'm gonna be a boyfriend from hell and a blogger from satan's ass.

Also I think I overshare💀

GOLDY

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lesetoilesfous · 3 years

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For DADWC: from the Florence + The Machine Prompt List list > "And the heart is hard to translate, it speaks a language of its own". You're my favorite fenders writer 💙, so fenders fic, pretty please!

Aaaaaaaah so I got this twice and I love it SO much so thank you both! @contreparry - I really hope you enjoy it!

(If you’d like me to write you a dragon age fic, send me a prompt from here!)

@dadrunkwriting

Pairing: Fenders

Characters: Fenris, Anders

Tags: canon-typical graphic depictions of violence, Anders was right, anti-chantry, fluff

Rating: Mature

“And the heart is hard to translate It has a language of it's own It talks in tongues and quiet sighs And prayers and proclamations in the grand days Of great men and the smallest of gestures In short shallow gasps”

- All This and Heaven Too, Florence + The Machine

It started on a beach in 9:30 Dragon. It was raining, and Fenris, Hawke and the rest of their companions were hot and sticky with blood when the clouds had burst. They’d left a litter of broken slaver bodies in the sand dunes behind them, stumbling down to the grey waves of the Waking Sea beneath a cloudy sky.

And then it had begun to rain, and the mage: a foolish, willful man utterly ignorant of his own privilege, had yelped and begun to take his clothes off. Fenris can still remember the way the sand had felt between his toes, and hear the buzz of insects in his ears as he’d stared at the tall, blonde man, and the sand between them had grown dark with water.

Anders had stripped down to his smalls, blood streaked up his forearms in long vivid slashes, and dropped his staff carelessly into the long, stiff silver reeds. Admittedly, it was a cheap thing: clearly scavenged or stolen, and nothing that any self-respecting magister would have been seen dead with. Still. Fenris had never seen a mage just drop their staff like that before. Just to the right of Anders’ chest, half hidden by thick red-blonde hair, was a deep and jagged scar directly above his heart. His belly was almost concave, hip bones jutting in a way that could only be unhealthy. There were more scars, but Fenris barely had a chance to see them before Anders was running at the freezing sea.

From behind, Fenris saw that his long back was latticed with more scars than he had previously imagined. The mage yelped as he got into the waves, feet hopping as if the water were burning hot, not freezing cold. And then he got past the shallows, and dove in beneath the cresting waves. Behind him, somewhere between the beach and the horizon, seabirds leapt squawking into the grey sky. Anders had burst up out of the blue water, laughing, tossing his hair back from his face in a whip of antique gold, tipping his long, crooked nose back and shutting his eyes as he raised his face to the watery grey sunlight.

And then Isabela and Hawke, laughing, had pulled each other’s clothes off and followed him, and Fenris had been left standing uncertainly on the beach, watching them, unable to decipher the ache in his chest as he waited for them to rejoin him on the shore.

It started in the Alienage in 9:30 on Wintersend. Anders had just delivered triplets, which was a labour that was exactly as harrowing and arduous as he had worried it would be. He hadn’t slept in 48 hours, and for weeks after he’d ascribed the events of that night to a waking dream. The elvhen women whose children he’d delivered had attempted to press what silver they had into his hands, and Anders had pressed it back into the mother’s wife’s hands, dizzy with the expenditure of his magic and the sheer weight of fatigue. Then he’d taken his staff, more as a cane than anything, and slowly left the narrow confines of their home.

His knee had been blistering with pain: and he’d known before the first kiss of snow that the weather had changed. His worst scars always warned him before the sky broke. Still, the coat he’d armoured over the years with reinforced leather and what other supplies he could scavenge provided little warmth against the night, so Anders was shivering as his breath fell in white clouds into the dark. Around the Vhenadahl, candles flickered against the wind in a way that only magical fire could, and Anders sent a silent half-hearted prayer to the Maker that the templars would stay inside their barracks tonight, and not make any midnight excursions into Lowtown.

The last person he had expected to see leaving Merrill’s home was Fenris, and he certainly hadn’t expected to see the elf wrapped in a mossy green, knitted woolen scarf. For a second the pair of them stared at each other, caught like apprentices out of bed past curfew. Then Fenris had flushed, ruddy against his dark skin, and marched past him. Anders had expected it to end there, but when Fenris got to the foot of the steps to the alienage he stopped, greatsword strapped like steel lightning to his back.

He turned on the steps, and frowned at Anders. “Are you coming?”

Anders had followed. Fenris said nothing for the whole journey, but he walked Anders to the door of his clinic, and when Anders swayed as he tried to heave open the heavy doors, Fenris had caught his elbow. Anders had stared at him, more startled by the unexpected gesture than he would have been by the Darktown floor, and Fenris jerked his hand back like he’d been burned. In one of the undercity taverns, a chorus of festival goers were singing. Fenris gave him a short, sharp nod. “Good night, mage.”

Anders nodded back, speechless. Through the broken walls of Darktown, snow drifted in silent clouds and disappeared into the blue ink of the Waking Sea. Anders was convinced for years that he imagined it when Fenris stopped again, on the staircase outside the clinic, and spoke in a murmur. “Happy Wintersend.”

It started on Sundermount in 9:33 Dragon. Fenris had fallen, feet slipping in the mud, right calf failing him thanks to a slice to his leg that felt like it had split a ligament. His leg was a screaming burn and the rest of him was little better. The fog on the mountain was thick and white as dragon’s breath, and much colder, seeping through his armour and into his skin, and making the lyrium sewn into his flesh numb the veins around it in a bruising ache. Fenris couldn’t see Hawke, or Isabela, and he did not trust the mage to be anywhere than at Hawke’s side, for all that she had clearly long since promised her heart to Isabela. It was with a grim certainty that Fenris had looked up into the bloody, snarling face of his would-be killer, even as his mind ran through every formal strategy and dirty tricky he could think of. His fingers scrabbled in the dirt for mud to throw into his eyes, but his fingers were weak and stiff with the cold. The slaver’s sword fell.

Which was when six feet two of mage tackled him. Fenris stared as Anders charged at the slaver who would have killed him, throwing him down into the dirt. The mage’s staff was nowhere to be seen, and his hair was almost brown with the rain. His pale face was streaked with blood, and his coat and shirt were torn and scorched in places, exposing his bare, newly healed skin. Fenris stared as Anders tackled the slaver down into the mud and then reared back and punched him, hard, breaking his nose before punching him again, and again, and then taking a dagger from his belt and slitting his throat with brutal efficiency.

When the act was done, Anders dropped the knife into the dirt and scrambled to his feet, long legs skidding in the wet mud like a newborn colt. Fenris almost laughed, but in the absence of mortal peril his injuries were attempting to set his nerve endings on fire. His efforts to sit ended in him collapsing back onto the hill and praying to a Maker he struggled to believe in that Hawke and Isabela had dealt with the rest. And then Anders was there, face covered in blood and mud, hair clinging like kelp to his newly freckled and faintly sunburned cheeks. “Oh no you don’t.”

Magic fell over Fenris’ ruined leg like holy fire, and Fenris’ pain evaporated, washing away from one heartbeat to the next until it was merely a distant, terrible memory. Slowly, stiffly, Fenris managed to sit up, and for the first time in three years, Anders gave him a warm, honest smile. “There you are.”

Then he’d stood, and Fenris had been dizzily reminded exactly how tall he was. And then there was a long, calloused hand, red with blood, fingers crooked with breaking, thrust into the foggy air between them. Despite himself, Fenris took it.

It started on the Wounded Coast in 9:33 Dragon. Aveline was attempting to woo her soon to be husband, Donnic, and Anders was struggling to understand exactly why that required Hawke and her friends to put their lives on the line. But the summer was late and hot, and the days were long, and Marian’s eyes were very blue. So he’d found himself in the shifting, midge-ridden dunes of the Coast, killing slavers and Tal-Vashoth, and only occasionally cringing with second hand embarrassment at Aveline’s attempts at flirtation.

They’d dispatched most the ne’er-do-wells stupid enough to show their faces between the sand dunes, and were waiting for Aveline and Donnic to catch up in an appropriately concealed spot beneath the hissing reeds. Soon enough, their voices came down the path, not quite smothered by the close crash of the ocean and the whistle of the wind.

“So I think it’s always best to start with a quick downward slash, and then follow up with a parry. It’s predictable, sure, but I think it’s good to get recruits started on what’s tried and trusted.”

Fenris had laughed, and for a second Anders thought the wind dropped. The elf’s voice was rough and low, and his laugh was too. He’d curled his lyrium-twined fingers at Isabela, and Isabela had rolled her eyes and presses a silver into his waiting palm. Fenris had pocketed it. Then he’d caught Anders staring, and cleared his throat, colour rising to his high cheekbones. Isabela had leaned across him, and Fenris’ flush had risen up the back of his neck and into the tips of his ears. Anders had tried very hard not to stare at it.

“Do you want in? Fenris thinks it won’t be until the third path.”

Anders had spoken, as he so often did, without stopping to think. “I wouldn’t have figured you for the romantic type.”

Fenris had met his eyes, then, and the elf’s were deep and green and beautiful. “There is a great deal that you do not know about me, mage.”

Anders had not been able to think of anything else for the rest of the night.

It started in 9:37 Dragon. They were in The Hanged Man, and Fenris was staring at the monster that wore the face of his nightmares. Corff was nowhere to be seen, nor were Maraas or any of the tavern’s other regulars. Fenris was trying to beat back the tide of cynicism in his mind telling him that he should have known they would betray him, all of them. That he should never have trusted anyone but himself.

His sister stepped back, and his blood roared so loudly in his ears that he barely heard what Hawke said. But he heard his domi - Danarius - talking about his affection and his skills. It took everything Fenris had not to vomit on the tavern floor, and his mind revolted in a dizzy kind of horror as the impulse conflicted with memories of merrier disasters on these same stained floorboards. Then there were demons, and his mouth was thick with sulphur, and Fenris was fighting for his life.

It was like being back in the Provings again. Danarius had found his way onto the wooden staircase of The Hanged Man: the staircase that led up to Varric’s rooms, the staircase on which Fenris had once kissed Isabela and been pleasantly surprised by her response, the staircase where he’d found her kissing Hawke and told them it didn’t matter. Danarius had desecrated this place that despite the best efforts of Fenris’ anxieties had become like a home to him. Danarius had stood there, and watched, and Fenris had heard his friends’ screams as his master’s demons had ripped into their flesh.

Fenris had lost track of time, arms burning with the searing remnants of dismembered spirits, hands slippery with sweat and blood. But at some point the familiar relief of healing had disappeared, and he had belatedly looked up through sweat-stinging eyes to see Anders’ body arched in a translucent prison of blue light. Danarius had been watching the mage with an expression of terrible curiosity that Fenris knew well and feared more. His expression had been almost impassive as the mage shuddered and spasmed, blood oozing from his ears and flowing from his nose and down over his chin.

Isabela was clutching a gash in her side that was turning her white canvas tunic cherry red, and Hawke was dragging a mangled leg through the broken furniture as she made her way towards her. Fenris stood frozen in the smouldering wreckage, trapped like the butterflies his master liked to collect on pinned boards in his study. Anders had collapsed in a heap at Danarius’ feet, and Danarius had stepped forward. Fenris’ heart lurched.

But then Anders had surged abruptly to his feet and punched Danarius in the balls.

Fenris laughed, a shocked bark that was too loud in the tavern following the battle, and Danarius had wheezed, and blood had spun about his fingers, and Anders had grabbed the back of his head with one hand and slammed his knee into Danarius’ nose with a jarring crunch, chest heaving as he panted.

Then he’d picked up Danarius with all the strength promised by his tall, muscular frame, his training as a Grey Warden and the hearty meals Varric had spent nine years coaxing him into. Anders hurled Danarius down the stairs, where he landed in a heap at Fenris’ feet. Anders had looked at him, beard red with blood, body trembling with fury or pain or both.

“He’s all yours.”

And just like that, Fenris was free.

It started in 9:37 Dragon. Hawke and Isabela had fled across the sea, and Anders didn’t blame them. The Chantry was gone, and he was still getting used to the idea that he was meant to survive this. He still wasn’t entirely sure that he should, and Justice had been all too silent on the subject. So he spent his days in a waking dream, trekking for days and then weeks into the Vimmark mountains in the vague direction of Nevarra.

He hadn’t seen another living person for three weeks when an elf emerged from the fog, wreathed in white light like a ghost. Anders had stopped. His body and mind had long since become stretched too thin with hunger, horror and grief. Fenris’ countenance, for all its grim finality, came as an abrupt relief. At least he could stop running, now.

He’d dropped his staff, slowly, and held up his hands. “If you’re here to kill me, I won’t stop you.”

Fenris had not drawn his sword, but he hadn’t let the light die in his lyrium, either. When he stepped closer, he didn’t make sound, and for a moment Anders thought perhaps he really was a ghost, summoned by his imagination and too many nights in a decade spent longing for a man he couldn’t have.

Around them, birds had sung in the early morning, and not far off a stream made its laughing way down the cliffs. “Why did you run?”

Fenris asked the question as if it held the secret to the restoration of the Golden City itself. Anders laughed, stepping forward and stumbling over his own feet and the thick mass of pain that was his long since ruined knee. Fenris moved toward him through the long, dew-soaked grass, but didn’t quite breach the space between them. Anders swayed into a mostly intentional sitting position on a moss-covered boulder. “Does it matter?”

Fenris had met his eyes, and his own were dark and green and beautiful. “It does.”

Anders shrugged, and shut his eyes, leaning his head back and up into the fog. Water kissed his cheeks, and he thought: it would have been worth it, for this. It would have been worth it, to feel the weather again.

Something skittered in the bushes, and Anders opened his eyes and watched Fenris turn, bristling, to scan the trees. After a moment Fenris’ shoulders lowered, fractionally, and he turned back to Anders. He’d asked the question again, patiently, persistently. “Why did you run?”

Anders shook his head. “Because I didn’t want to bring you down with me.” Fenris’ eyes had widened a little, and Anders hurried on. “Any of you. I knew what I was doing, but the consequences were mine alone. I wasn’t going to subject you to them.”

Fenris had tilted his head, and the lyrium in his skin had sent shimmering refractions of light dancing iridescently through the fog. “I did not think you bore me so much good will.”

“More like I didn’t bear you so much ill.” Anders had corrected, before sitting forwards, feeling abruptly the weight of too many decades of exhaustion lying heavy on his aching shoulders. “It’s alright. I think killing me is the best decision, too.”

The glass had rustled, then, and Anders thought it must have been deliberate. But then Fenris’ feet were in front of him, stained green with the grass, and the light of his lyrium faded, leaving them both wreathed only in the sunlit fog. Anders looked up at Fenris, and he looked like some ancient king, backlit by the bright sky, skin dark and olive against the shimmering silver of his lyrium. “I’m not going to kill you, mage.”

And then there was a dark, calloused hand, silver with lyrium, fingers slender and elegant, thrust into the misty air between them. Anders stared at Fenris, and Fenris’ poker face cracked as he gave him a small, crooked smile. Despite himself, Anders took his hand, letting Fenris pull him easily to his feet.

“I’m going to help.”

It started in 9:40 Dragon, when the Circle of Dairsmuid was annulled, and over five hundred mages between the ages of six and seventy were murdered because they were allowed to see their families. It started in 9:40 Dragon, with the rebellion of the White Spire. It started in 9:40 Dragon, when Lord Seeker Lambert declared an end to the Circle of Magi.

It started in a tavern in Nevarra, at a meeting of former slaves and runaway mages. It started with elves, and second-hand weapons, and an apostate with a Fereldan accent who looked like an Ander. It started with an elf from Tevinter with white tattoos that looked like Vallaslin.

It started with rebellion. But that isn’t where it ended.

“No, words are a language It doesn't deserve such treatment And all my stumbling phrases Never amounted to anything worth this feeling All this heaven never could describe Such a feeling as I'm healing, words were never so useful So I was screaming out a language That I never knew existed before.”

- All This and Heaven Too, Florence + The Machine

#dadwc #fenders #da2 #fenris #anders #my fic #barbex #contreparry

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literaphobe · 3 years

Note

Two questions:

1. What do you feel about CorpsexSykunno ship?

I feel like it's MarkiplierxJacksepticeye all over again, starts out innocent and turns uncomfortable.

(Also I think real people shipping is gross in general)

2. Dream smp makes me so nervous, not necessarily because of any of the members but due to (1) the history of online teams dominated (and lead) by male influencers, (2) minecraft youtube's general history of exploiting fans. I feel like it's going to end badly. You seem to be enjoying it tho, and it's definitely up my alley, should I get into it?

1. Corpse and Sykkuno are not comfortable being shipped! Neither of them are okay with being shipped with ANY of their friends in general, so like, don’t do it, or if u do like. i guess just don’t say anything about it? it’s really not hard to just enjoy their friendship. like it’s an endearing friendship n there’s nothing wrong w liking it. but. nothing more u know. plus both of them have made it clear on several occasions that they’re both straight and my gaydar agrees JFKDKDK like they’re just. Friends. Who care about each other :)

I definitely think it’s not like the markiplier x jacksepticeye situation, because for one u have jack himself telling people not to ship etc etc and also BECAUSE of that u have people actively policing any form of shipping. it’s honestly gotten to the point where it’s annoying but i genuinely don’t think it’s that big a problem, plus the rising popularity of the amigops puts less pressure on one-on-one corpse + sykkuno interactions, since people now wanna see all four of them play games together n not just corpse n sykkuno!

2. I get why Dream SMP would make u nervous. An interesting thing I realized when I started finding out more about people on that server is that there’s marginally more poc on it than I previously thought and also A LOTTTTT more lgbt+ people than i previously thought. Like genuinely why are so many of u so gay. And like that affects the stories being told obviously. Like. I don’t think it’s perfect n I don’t follow EVERY person on the SMP, just like i obviously don’t know everything about every minecraft YouTuber like fkdkdkdk i would say the only people i watch are dream, george, quackity (and even then i haven’t seen most of quackity’s YouTube videos) and like I’ve seen a couple of tommyinnit’s videos Fjdjdjdj and sapnap obviously but he has like 10 videos and i watch Karl’s streams if certain people are on it. yeah i think that’s about it like i do like the feral boys (dream george karl quackity sapnap) and i have seen maybe one or two skeppy videos

Anyway I get ur concerns about online circles dominated by male influencers too. but quite frankly compared to past circles ive seen its genuinely not that bad and also. In terms of holding them accountable, I think mcyttwt makes VERY sure of that (which honestly has devolved into a problem. because privileged haters will dig up stuff on creators that either a. has been addressed properly or b. is just. several years old and i don’t like how minorities are being weaponized. also i cannot stress how little i care that some minecraft YouTuber said the r slur 10 years ago when they literally never do it now. like. i worry so much because so many of these stans who think they’re ‘educating’ are just wearing themselves out n burning themselves out. so many of them are minors too)

but like. the people i am kept up w definitely do take responsibility and accountability. like dream especially gets accused of stuff that’s either fake/not him or something that’s just like out of this world (e.g. accused of queerbaiting. w george. interestingly no one ever accuses george directly of doing this) and no matter what he like addresses it properly and accordingly. like looking at his journey as a creator over the past year he’s grown a LOT and changed so much and matured a lot and i think like. looking at how much he’s blowing up and how much more of a following he’ll gain. I feel much better that it’s him who has this following as compared to. Certain people. And like. It’s upsetting to see how a lot of people have this impression of him that’s objectively false? Due to all the fake stuff that gets spread by haters (most often white for some reason???)? Because genuinely he’s not the creator we need to be so worried about?

Anyway in terms of getting into mcyts in the dream smp. I knew who Dream was because he’s played among us w the amigops a lot n they all like him because he’s just a good natured amicable person. I vaguely knew who george was because of dnf n also people putting his stupid face on my tl all the time. I thought he was pretty n hated that I thought that. I don’t care anymore tho. Like what’s wrong w looking at pretty people. I deserve it. Anyway! I got into their videos through GEORGE first, funnily. I think Minecraft, But I’m Not Colorblind Anymore was the first one I watched and it’s very very good. It’s endearing because it’s George trying out colorblind glasses for the first time n he’s nervous but Dream is there with him to make him feel more comfortable. And also Dream is so happy n emotional (he talks about tearing up at the thought of George being able to see colors properly) and their friendship is just very endearing. The video starts w george taking a colorblind test and we find out he has protan colorblindness (severity: STRONG which makes them crack jokes about how George is SO strong 😤)

anyway these losers. Decide to test the colorblind glasses on colors in MINECRAFT because of course that’s the whole video and it’s really heartwarming to see George learn how colors look like again n Dream just being excited about it the whole time n then George taking the colorblind test again at the end but with the glasses on... n then u go on to watch more george videos but it’s the ANIMAL CHALLENGES. like George Speedruns Minecraft But His Friend Is (Insert Animal, This Animal Is Always Dream) and like...... yeah so I watched a bunch of George’s videos n I went onto dream’s channel out of curiosity

And i was like. What the fuck. These videos are so WEIRDLY named. What the fuck is Finale, Finale Rematch, Grand Finale???? But dream has adhd too and in hindsight I absolutely would’ve titled the videos in a similarly confusing way. Anyway dreams manhunt videos are...... a work of art. I swear to god like even if u don’t know jackshit about minecraft they are very entertaining and weirdly impressive.

Basically in Minecraft Manhunt: Dream has to beat the game, but his friends are there trying to kill him. If they kill him even ONCE, they win n the video ends. He’s allowed to kill them repeatedly though. Manhunt started with one hunter (George, to one’s surprise), then two hunters (Sapnap and George), three (Sapnap, George, BadBoyHalo), and now four (Sapnap, George, BadBoyHalo, Antfrost). The next stage is possibly 5 hunters but idk who is the fifth yet. Anyway the thing that’s so entertaining about minecraft manhunt is:

1) Dream’s Parkour & PVP skills, which he developed and trained over such a short period of time n got REALLY good, it’s satisfying to watch him do risky maneuvers n succeed, the ways he’ll jump from a high place but clutch w either water, blocks, horses, boats, scaffolding, etc, to escape from the hunters

2) Dream’s TRAPS, like he actually does research for possible plans n traps he could do to counter the hunters, since there’s so many of them and only one of him, and he can’t just fight them in combat exclusively, since he’ll lose eventually if he gets ganged up on. I won’t spoil any of his traps, but they’re very good and also very dramatic. It’s amazing

3) The banter and taunting!! The lies and tricks!! They’re all really close so it’s easy for them to crack jokes during a lull where neither party is engaged in a fight, they’re all on the same VC so they can potentially say stuff to trick each other, or they can hear the other team say stuff that gives them an edge

4) The editing. Like the pacing is incredible, and all the bgm used is SO good at setting the atmosphere n making things more tense n exciting etc. like “dream’s manhunt music” is honestly a meme at this point but he actually unironically uses it and it unironically makes the videos better. Also dream edits all the manhunt videos by himself!! he doesn’t hire editors to do it for him or anything

idk what else to say but yeah I watch most of dream n george’s YouTube videos and they’re in most of each other’s videos and I like their dynamic a lot!! Especially since they still have not met in real life but already know they want to like live together (forever, according to George), and it like reminds me of the friendships I have because most of my close friendships have been made online. And like. They remind me that online friendships aren’t actually inferior. That’s it :) sorry this is so long

#ask #mcyt #dnf #dream smp #amigops #corpse husband #sykkuno #dreamnotfound #georgenotfound #dreamwastaken #sorry so sorry I just #never have that many ppportunies to talk about this #n I realized I had the energy to answer this ask apparently #fjdjdjdjd #askplus

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sinisterlyhan · 4 years

Text

02. bang chan / 3883 words

dom!chan who is both hard and soft, a tinge of fluff, daddy kink, a little size kink + corruption kink, oral (m receiving), the smallest amount of cumplay at the end, female reader

a/n: i am probably going to write a part two for this.

chan stopped seeing you as a younger sibling sometime ago.

you used to just be minho's little sister. the girl who occasionally appeared in the living room when he had sleepovers at the house, the girl he only talked to when it was under minho's presence, the girl he never felt any form of sexual attraction towards.

but then times changed. he grew older, taller, and bigger while you... well, you definitely did grow older. not so much taller, though. it felt as if only him and minho managed to sprout some height after puberty while yours went completely neglected in your genes. and definitely not bigger—actually, yes. some part of you grew bigger, in a very arousing and distracting way if chan could admit. but you were still quite small compared to his much broader shoulders.

chan never thought too much of it. he had made too many petty jokes about you staying as small and weak as a midget for years, his mindset was stuck at that childish thought. it was only until christmas gathering last year when he joined your family for the holiday did he finally realize how much more attractive you have grown.

you have always been pretty. chan would not expect anything less as you are lee minho's little sister, and minho was one hell of a good-looking man. the big doe eyes with the perfect nose bridge, and of course pretty pink lips that makes a pretty smile—you were always pretty. chan never verbally acknowledged it but he never verbally denied it either.

over time, your beauty has matured. you innocent eyes learned how to act tough in front of strangers and your pretty smile knew to come to the rescue in awkward situation. you have grown to learn how to benefit yourself in a society that, unfortunately, ran on a system that relied heavily on appearances.

but chan hasn't seen your tactics be used on him before. when he arrived at your house last year, you looked at him the same way you had always looked at him—a little distant but still with faint fondness, a gaze that screamed friendly and comfortable.

in terms of expressions and attitude, you were small when it came to him. and something about that special treatment (which wasn't exactly special) made his insides churn.

what made it even worse was the night of christmas dinner, when you three decided to sit down in his room to hang out while the adults gathered in the living room to chat the night away.

you had stolen minho's hoodie, that chan knew because it was one size too big on minho and therefore two sizes too big on you. you wore a pair of polyester shorts that only faintly peeked out the hem of the cuddly hoodie, and your tiny feet was covered by a pair of ugly, green fuzzy socks.

but what stung him the most was how careless you acted around him, as if he was your brother as well.

you had been eating chips at that time, happily smacking your lips away as you ate up the family portioned chip bag on your own. and chan could not care less about you never sharing the snacks at that time. he just knew you were sucking on your fingers a little too hard and moaning at the taste a little too loudly for him to concentrate on his phone.

and the way your legs flaunted around on minho's bed as you munched on the food, spreading them in a comfortable position but not spreading enough for him to catch a glimpse into the gaps of your shorts. and you looked so small with your legs thrown over the pile of dirty laundry on the edge of your brother's bed, your back against the mattress and your breasts perking up at the cursed angle.

chan was going insane, he had to snap his head away when minho threw a random pillow at you, scolding you to sit up properly.

he was told—threatened—later by minho to stop having perverted ideas about you. but chan didn't listen, obviously. for the rest of that night, all he had thought about was shoving his fingers down your throat and fucking you in your brother's hoodie. he could imagine all the ways you would whimper and moan under his weight when he's got your legs thrown over his shoulder, and the thought alone made his chest burn.

chan was unable to see you the same, platonic way ever again since that christmas.

"bang chan!"

your irritated voice snapped him out of his thoughts and he quickly looked away from the dark corner he was staring at. you were frowning at him by the television set, your hands rested in a box of movie cds.

chan's eyes casually scanned your figure, as if it wasn't all he thought about after you walked downstairs, drowned that oversized shirt and pajama shorts he took a generous peek at as your shirt rode up your ass upon you reaching upward.

"yeah, what's wrong?" he asked, sitting up from the couch and leaning his elbows on his knees to look at you with an arched brow.

you felt slightly intimidated by his change of stance; he was just sulking at the corner of the sofa looking exhausted and small, how did he manage to change his aura with just a change of position?

and his duality was always so damn hot to you for some reason! the way he could smile at you one second and glare at an uncomfortable stranger the next was none other than seducing.

"are you kidding me–do you want to watch a movie or not, chan?" you asked as you pulled your hands out of the box, preparing to put it back into the shelf and let it gather dust there until the next holiday when minho didn't get called up to spend the night with his girlfriend instead. "i am actually okay with just being on our phones, we don't have to watch a movie."

chan blinked at you, surprised by your fed-up tone even though he had done nothing but sit on the couch after dinner. perhaps you were mad at minho for ditching you both? but why would you be mad about that unless you didn't want to spend alone time with him? maybe you just had an argument with your parents, that was why you felt extra grumpy.

as chan drowned in his thoughts and assumptions, he had not realized you plopping down on the couch across from him. you breathed out a heavy sigh as you unlocked your phone, sliding against the cushion and throwing your extended legs on top of his lap.

oh, there you were with the carelessness again. twisting your legs and only barely brushing across his groin each time you swung your feet his way. and if he saw clearly, you weren't wearing a bra as well, you little brat.

chan glanced down at your bare feet then, and something about your slim ankles in comparison to his much bigger hand fueled the hotness in his abdomen. he could just grab them and pull you to him, spreading your legs wide for him. and what could you do? he was so much stronger than you.

manhandling you would be both an effortless and pleasurable experience.

you huffed out a sigh, distracting him once again. he turned to find you frowning at the ceiling, your arm dangling to the side with your phone gripped tightly in your hand.

chan gulped down his lustful mind and asked, hoping to start a normal conversation. "you've been acting grumpy all day. what happened to you, hmm?"

you peered down at him, your chest heaving and, unbeknownst to you, nipples protruding through the thin fabric of your shirt. "i met this guy on campus last month. he was helping out with some fraternity shit and i was walking past, and then he stopped me to get my number," you said. "we have been texting a lot, and recently he asked me out. we planned to hang out sometime this week, actually, since it is the holiday and all."

chan furrowed his brows. the word fraternity definitely did not stick well with him and he had not taken you for someone who would be obsessed over attractive and irresponsible frat boys. turning to you, he asked, "is it not working out?"

you groaned under your breath. "no, it is for now," you muttered, glancing to the side shyly when you realized what you were about to say. "it's just... i'm not sure if it will be fine after the date."

"why?" he pressed on, finding the reddening of your cheeks very amusing.

"it's just... he said he is going to make a move on me and he told me to prepare for it..." you replied quietly, finding the once arousing words to be sappy and cringey once you repeated them. "but i have never had... i've–i haven't done anything before, like i don't even know the first thing about sucking someone off."

chan clenched his jaw. he was just slightly angered at the idea that some stupid boy would have the privilege of having your mouth wrapped around his useless dick when all he has ever gotten were temptations and imaginations. your big, innocent eyes looking up at him in confirmation and waiting for him to guide you through it all—fuck, he could cum just thinking about it.

"i can teach you," he suddenly suggested, shooting his shot and taking his chances. he looked over at you, eyes burning holes at your head. "if you want to, i can teach you. right here, right now."

his voice went an octave lower, the metallic hotness of it sending shivers down your spine. how would you fend if he whispered next to your ear, just inches apart with his hot breath blowing against your skin? you squeezed your thighs together at the thought, knowing very well he noticed how squirmish you were becoming because his was smirking with a devil laced on his lips.

"h–how?" you stuttered out.

chan poked his tongue to the corner of his lips. what a desperate bitch, you were willing to suck another man's dick to make sure the real deal would be mind-blowing. something about that was thrilling to him, the fact that he was the first one to take it from you instead of that ill-promising boy in your phone.

"on the floor, kneel," he beckoned you to him by pointing at the space before him.

you quickly dropped onto the ground and scurried over to kneel between his legs, your heart pounding in your chest as you watched him move his sweats down by a little. his cock sprung out upon release, standing long and thick against his tummy due to how hard he was. you bit back a gasp but your widened eyes told him everything, and your fascination only fueled his dominance impeccably.

fuck, you looked so breakable like this.

"i'm sure you have seen a dick before so i am going to spare you the details," he said as he gave his dick a few pumps. then, he leaned forward slightly and grabbed you by your chin, tilting your head up to look at him.

his eyes grew soft for a moment and he rubbed his fingers at your skin comfortingly. "you can stop this anytime you want, okay, (name)?" he said, smiling faintly at you.

you sent him a timid nod, your lips pursed adorably and your eyes sparkling up at him. frankly, you were too occupied with lusting over thing massive thing in front of your face for you to really process your thoughts, but what does it matter?

if you were thinking about it so much then you knew you wanted it.

upon your agreement, chan's eyes switched to something different. they were cold now, hooded with a sea storm of lust, overwhelmingly icy yet he seemed to be melting at the sight of you succumbing to hits authority. it was a gaze that made you feel both inferior but anticipated somehow.

"you're gonna suck me off well, baby girl?" he asked, but it sounded more like a demand. it sounded as if he expects nothing less than worshipping his cock from you, that you will suck him off good because that was all you're here for.

"i... i don't know how..." you muttered.

chan exhaled through his nose, his lips still quirked up. he gripped your chin just a tad bit tighter, causing you to look at him with wide eyes.

"don't worry, you will get to hang of it," he mused before lowering his voice. "but daddy's gonna need you to speak a little louder than that next time, got it?"

a blush crept up your cheeks, the heat in your core magnifying when chan just manifested a guilty pleasure of yours in real life. you have only heard it in porn and read it in fanfiction, perhaps you also did imagine yourself saying it once or twice in a sexual context, but imagination could never be associated with the truth. what if you sounded awkward saying it? that would be horrible.

"baby girl?" chan tugged at your chin, faint impatience laced in his voice as he peered down at your. "were you daydreaming?"

"no, daddy–" you clamped your mouth shut at how easy the word flew out of your lips.

chan held back a groan. how perfect you were, calling him such an endearment that has been tainted with filth. he would not wait to hear you gag around his cock, your voice unable to punch out any words because your mouth was stuffed.

"well? do you want to start now or do i have to tell you to lick?" he gave you a welcoming gesture, leaning back against the couch and waiting.

you gulped down a nervous breath and reached out tentatively to grab his dick in your hands. it was hard, with a surprisingly soft but veiny surface. bringing it over to your lips whilst leaning in, you let the tip stop at the entrance of your mouth and you looked up at chan, as if asking for permission.

"go on," he urged you. "try and make daddy feel good."

he said that like it would be a challenge for you, but he had lost from the start when you agreed to do this. a hiss left his lips when you experimented with licking his tip. and when you realize it was not as rough as you thought it would feel, you continued with it, your tongue pressing flat against the surface as you dragged it down and around the sensitive bub.

this was a different kind of sexy. chan has been used to sloppy and fast blowjobs all his life because the few people he had had sex with were all much more experienced than you were. they were good, he had to admit, they had been good.

but you—oh, you. you were just especially and irresistibly hot. there was something about the way you kneeled in front of him, your careful hands wrapped around the base of his cock like a bottle too big for your hands to hold as your tongue flicked along his tip and his shaft with calculations, aiming to do nothing but pleasure him.

you were slow and sensual with it due to how uncertain you were with what to do. and god, was that painfully seductive. the way you were taking your sweet time giving his cock your undivided attention, forcing him to feel everything and ink down all of your movements in his head—the hotness of your tongue as you curved around his shape, the infuriating fire he felt when your tongue traced up his veins and leave once you were close to his tip, the egoistic dominance you were making him feel when you looked up at him with those big, obedient eyes.

it was like you couldn't live without his validation. and you were willing to sit in front of him for hours with his dick in your mouth, pleasuring him just to get a hint of approval. and it kept reminding him that he was in charge here, that you have to wait for him to tell you what to do and when to do it.

when you were finally getting a bit braver, watching the way chan bit his lips and how his chest heaved, you decided to hollow your cheeks to suck at him for the first time.

and chan groaned—a borderline growl—when you took more of him in your mouth to pull at his dick, your tongue stuck over your bottom lip and flapping against his shaft. as you released him from your mouth, you pressed a tight kiss to his tip and spit your saliva down to make it look like cum, then you lathered his length with the filthy wetness, still sucking on him like you would a popsicle or a lollipop.

and god, he was trying too hard. he was trying so damn hard not to grab you by your hair and just fuck your throat like a fleslight. he still wanted to give you the chance to do whatever felt comes to mind, and so far you have really been doing phenomenal things to him.

"fuck, baby girl," he grumbled through clenched teeth, feeling pleasure override his senses. "that was good, keep doing that."

your eyes lit up at the compliment, a mini giggle falling out your lips and sending vibration down his skin. chan moaned at the feeling as you went just a tad bit faster in your repetition, mixing the rough sucks with baby licks and creating a symphonic contrast that soon pushed him close to the edge.

the knot at his swollen tip was building and chan could not resist anymore. he needed you to go at his pace, something faster and rougher. with a groan, he let his hands move the back of your head before he pushed you down on his cock, a breathy moan leaving him when you squealed in surprise.

you could not breathe, his length was too big for your little mouth. the feeling of his tip touching your throat was overwhelmingly unsatisfactory, but somewhere deep within you, you knew you wanted it. because chan's voice has never sounded better all breathy and feral like this, and it was all because you put your stupid mouth to good use for once.

your hands gripped his flexed thighs in support while chan, for a second, forgot you were a breathing human being and just snapped his hips up at you like you could take it all with no trouble. he was going fast, pushing your head down and thrusting up to meet your throat while he threw his head back at the heavenly vibration you sent him through letting out struggling noises.

fuck, your mouth felt so good. the feeling stuck at the tip of his cock released when a certain suck pushed him over the edge and burst his control. he shot his heavy load down your throat and coating up your inner cheeks before pushing your head away with a pop and slumping against the couch.

his chest was panting, you could see. and when he peered down at you, he arched a brow and smirked at you.

you waited from him to regain his energy. when he did, he leaned forward to your face and hummed in thoughts, as if accessing what other ways he could possibly wreck you up. you widened your eyes when he reached out to touch his thumb to your lips, his fingers tilting your chin up to face him.

"open up," he ordered, and you did with your tongue sticking out slightly for show. he almost laughed; you learned that from watching porn, didn't you?

his cum was still on your tongue, he wondered if you were reluctant to swallow them. he could deal with you not doing that, you have already given him such a mind-blowing blowjob despite it being your first time. however, even then, he still wanted to see something he had always wanted to try.

reaching his thumb into your mouth, he gathered up some of his cum and slowly, plastered them over your lips like he was applying your lipstick. when he was done, he let his thumb stay in your mouth and he gestured to you.

knowing what he was asking for, you first grazed your teeth over his skin before you sucked on it like a binky. his cum smacked together and left trails all over his hand and your lips, messy but so fucking hot at the same time.

and then he pulled out of you, removing his hand and going back to himself. he stared at you for a moment, once again contemplating. and when he reached over for you again, instead of another round of shoving and pulling, his hand moved to the back of your head and he rubbed the spot he just yanked at. then he gave your head a gentle pat.

he smiled at you softly. "you did so great, baby girl."

you wanted to smile at his compliment, but something about him speaking as if this was the end of it made disappointment settle in your chest. chan could sense your dismay through the pout, and his heart jumped slightly at the knowledge that you might want more than just sucking him off.

"why are you pouting, hmm?" he asked then, squeezing your cheek and looking directly at you. "do you want daddy to do something?"

his finger was trailing an alluring line down your cheek and your neck now. he knew what he was doing, and you knew you had to be the one to say it in order for him to keep going down to where you wanted him the most, the heated pool right between your legs.

"yes, please," you said, still shy about doing a minimal amount of dirty talk.

"hmm?" he raised his brows in amusement. "what is it that you want me to do, baby girl?"

oh, there were so many things you wanted him to do to you. but one of which took up the most space in your desires was to have him fuck you raw and open on whatever surface he so pleases. you would give anything to feel him inside of you.

"i..." you sucked in a breath, your cheeks reddening uncontrollably at the thought of having to verbalize your filthy fantasies. "i–i want daddy to make me feel good."

chan smirked, his finger that is was once trailing down your neck finally made its way to the center. his hand palmed over the area of your collarbones before he raised the position of his hand a little. he squeezed the base of your neck, loving the bobbing of the breathy throat.

oh, you pretty, little thing.

he's gonna fuck you so hard you won't even remember the boy who made you do this in the first place.

#skz smut #skz dark hours #stray kids dark hours #stray kids smut #bang chan smut #chan smut

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sharknadoslutt · 3 years

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Not that I ever wanted to watch it because of the era it plays in, but what was so awful about Star Wars resistance?

Oh Okay this ask got me GOING so Welcome to my Tedtalk on my feelings on Star Wars Resistance; a story of Disappointment.

So Mr. Dave Filoni, the story telling Prince, left the show like halfway through production of the first season for other projects (For TCW season 7 and The Mandalorian). This left what was a promising show with characters Dave himself had created, in the hands of very inexperienced story board artist and writers. Personally, I think they panicked and half assed it so that Disney could make money on toys. Because.. idk. It just doesn't even come close to the emotional story arcs that TCW and Rebels gave us. and that's what Star Wars is supposed to be about. Changing for the better. Hope or some shit, am I right?

What was most disappointing in my opinion.. is that the protagonist, Kazudo Xiono, is UNBEARABLE. He is the EMBODIEMENT of privilege. This punk has had everything handed down to him from the moment he was born. He was born like 14 years after the Empire has been brought down and the New Republic reigns, so he has never known war. AND HIS DADDY IS THE SENATOR OF HOSNIAN PRIME FOR FUCKS SAKE! THE CAPITOL????? WHERE THE SENATE IS???? YOU KNOW HOW RICH THAT MUST MAKE HIs FaMiLY??? His dad literally gives him an allowance even though he is a grown ass man in the military when the show starts.

To put things into perspective for those not up to date on Sequel Era Lore and I envy you greatly tbh bcs not to be that person i do not like the sequels that's the equivalent of being the Senator of Coruscant in the Prequels!!!!

Not to mention he is a BUMBLING idiot. Like. This man has ADHD on steroids. As a person with ADHD it's.. lord, it's cringe. He is clumsy. He is loud. He says inappropriate things at the wrong time. He doesn't know how to do anything for himself. AND HE IS SUPPOSED TO BE A SPY FOR THE RESISTANCE UNDER COVER AS A MECHANIC???? HE KNOWS NOTHING ABOUT MECHANICS and really doesn't really learn anything about it by the time the show ends. And don't come at me saying this is a kids show so I cant complain about things being silly bcs I'm not the target audience. I can and I will bcs no one was NEARLY this obnoxious in TCW or Rebels. Kaz is Jarjar Level, but I ACTUALLY LIKE JARJAR!

DUDE IS A DAMN SPY HE DOESNT EVEN LIKE GO BY AN ALLIAS!!! HE DEADASS USES HIS REAL FULL NAME. BCS KAZ IS AN IDIOT.

I'm not saying he isn't a good person. Kaz is very sweet tbh. He's just an unknowing spoiled ass man-child who NEVER REALLY DEVELOPS INTO ANYTHING ELSE?????

It would be okay if he entered the show like this and exited a more mature, capable man. But he really doesn't. There are never any consequences for his actions. Ever. Other than when he becomes a spy and, again, IS USING HIS REAL LEGAL NAME as a spy for the Resistance... to avoid a scandal and to scold him for LITERALLY DESERTING THE NAVY his daddy cuts him off from his allowance. So instead of half assing his cover job as a mechanic, Kaz has to actually apply himself so he can make money for food. He doesn't improve much. His co-workers (Who are MUCH more interesting than him) constantly complain about him messing things up and making their jobs more difficult.

Man, FUCK KAZ. MY HOMIES HATE KAZ. BEING HOT CAN ONLY GET YOU SO FAR!!!!!

At the Season one finale there is a moment where you think he is finally going to grow as a man! Grow into the protagonist we deserve! Tragedy, for the first time in his life, strikes Kaz! It's during the events of episode 7, when The First Order blows up Hosnian Prime. His home planet. Where his FATHER LIVES. He has a moment of humanity and he is devastated. He almost cries. But he sucks it up to finish the mission and get his friends off base for their safety. He is a man now. and the audience feels a sense of comradery for Kaz. After all, Star Wars is about Fathers. Kaz has lost his father forever. His father was KILLED by the First Order. He now, first hand, has experienced real loss for the first time and this is going to help him grow and toughen up. he has to live on his own now. Our hero has a reason to be doing what he's doing. Fighting against the first order.

BUT NAH. FAM. then the very next fucking EPISODE YOU FIND OUT HIS DAD IS FUCKING ALIVE AND THAT HE DIDNT ACTUALLY EXPEIRENCE THE LOSS THAT HE HAD THOUGHT, AND HE GOES RIGHT BACK TO BEING HIS GOOFY ASS CHILDISH SELF. NO. I HATED THAT. THERE WAS NO REASON FOR GROWTH. MAN FUCK RESISTANCE.

FUCK. IF ANYONE DESERVED THEIR FATHER TO LIVE THROUGH A DAMN PLANETORY DESTRUCTION IT WAS MY GIRL LEIA, NOT FUCKING KAZUDO THE CLOWN XIONO. FUCK. guys I'm sorry I just really hate this god damn character.

Like. Lemme break it down, folks.

TCW started and Ahsoka enters. I HATED Ahsoka for a long time. Bcs she was young, cocky and annoying. But that was on purpose. Narratively, she experiences loss, she experiences pain and GROws as a character while navigating her Jedi life during the war. Our girl grows into the capable protagonist that we EXPECT out of a Star Wars story.

Same for Rebels. We meet Ezra, and he's not quite as annoying as Ahsoka was at first in my opinion (I cannot stress how much I did not care for Ahsoka yall) but he was young. He was childish. But he was more capable at 14 than fucking Kaz was at 20. By the end of Rebels, not only is he more wise and capable, but he is selfless. He has found his own path and it's only because of what he has gone through. His journey has made him stronger. Ezra is my favorite Star Wars journey, if I'm being honest. He is the perfect example of character development.

KAZUDO XIONO ENTERS SEASON ONE AS A 20 YEAR OLD MAN-CHILD USING DADDY'S MONEY WHO IS LOUD AND DOESNT KNOW WHEN THE STFU... AND EXITS THE FINALE... AS A LOUD MAN-CHILD WHO CAN NOW USE TOOLS. He doesn't' experience REAL FAMILIAL loss. He doesn't really experience a lot of character development at all. Things just happen around him, he helps, but he doesn't learn. He doesn't grow. I fucking hate that.

Literally every single character in the show BESIDEs Kaz is more interesting than him. and EXPEIRENCE CHARACTER GROWTH!!!

Jarek Yeager, Kaz's boss in the mechanic shop, was in the Rebellion and LOST HIS FAMILY. He is a sexy ass man too. HE starts the show not wanting to help the Resistance at all bcs he's experienced loss since his days in the Rebellion, and his heart is hard and he's comfortable. By the end of the show he is risking not just his career, but his VERY LIFE to help the Resistance.

Tam Ryvora, Kaz's co-worker. Daughter figure to Yeager and a total bad ass woman of color. She is the one on the show who experiences the most character development and struggles to find her identity while the First Order is taking over the galaxy. I LOVE her.

There are these 2 kids who are force sensitive and orphaned after Kylo Ren comits GENOCIDE on their planet. This arc set up is never fully addressed nor does it have a conclusion, like most story arcs on this show tbh.

There's a literal witch for some reason??

There's this fucking rad ass sexy Mirilian Pirate girl named Synara who FOR SOME REASON is suggested to be Kaz's love interest. Gross. Girl, you gay. Move in.

I could go on and on and on. But I wont. Fuck this show. Fuck Kaz. It literally adds NOTHING to the bigger Star Wars lore. TCW and Rebels do this beautifully and this show is a hot mess of ideas and characters that never come to a satisfying story telling conclusion.

Thanks for coming to my tedtalk, dont watch Resistance.

#I know a lot of people on tumblr think Dave is problematic but he is VERY good at story telling and yall cant deny this #otherwise we wouldnt be here on Clone Wars tumblr now would we?#Also Rebels is art at its finest and no one can tell me otherwise #ask #anon #hollyspeaks #star wars #star wars resistance #star wars rebels

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re-diesirae · 3 years

Text

7. Leon

Leon had watched Claire like a caring friend the whole night. The woman had fallen asleep so fast that Leon knew she was exhausted. He let the woman rest on his lap, and he found his eyes wandering absently to her face.

She looked pale under the dim light, and her auburn-hair locks fell lazily over her face. Leon pushed one behind her ear, and she barely moved under the light touch.

Leon froze, fearing that he had awoken her, but the woman continued to sleep quietly.

"You must be truly tired if you let your defenses down like this," Leon whispered with a smirk.

It was not the first time that they shared sleeping quarters. During the early months after the Racoon City incident, Leon, Claire, and Sherry had stayed together. The trio had remained hidden, fearing that Umbrella would try to catch them. In those days, Claire and Leon alternated their guarding duties, and he remembered that the woman was a very light sleeper. The slightest sound would send her on her feet and ready to shoot. He had found that cute and admirable.

Tonight, however, Claire was sleeping soundly, and not even his touch had woken her. He was not sure if he should feel concerned or happy that she felt safe enough to rest with him.

After some hours, he tried waking her up, as he had promised. Claire woke up when he shook her, but she soon fell asleep again, and he did not have the heart to wake her again.

Claire did not look too happy when she found out he had not woken her, but she forgave him after he explained what had happened. They left the cottage and walked through the forest. The casual chat was helping them both to stay calm, but he had not expected the conversation to turn to the subject of her luck with men.

Claire was a beautiful woman; she was not like other girls. She had grown with Chris, so she was not the sort of a woman to lay low waiting for the prince in shining armor to come to her rescue. No, Claire was the kind of girl to save herself. She knew how to stand her ground, and some men would feel intimidated by that. In his personal opinion, that was just what he had found so attractive in her.

Claire was a strong woman, and that was appealing. If someone was not able to see that, well, that bastard certainly was an idiot. When the conversation turned about him and Ada, he quickly brushed it off.

He and Ada had a complicated relationship. There was an attraction, but he doubted there was anything beyond that. When Claire pinpointed the group of Plagas infected, Leon chose to take cover behind the bushes. They were not hard to handle, but he did not have infinite ammo, and he did not want to waste them without reason.

"I think the wisest move now is to avoid conflict unless it is necessary," Leon said.

"I am with you with that. You'll want to save your bullets for the big ones," Claire nodded, looking at him.

"Big ones?" Leon asked with a frown.

"Yeah, nasty things. They took me by surprise yesterday, and I blew up the town in panic. The explosion was a little bigger than I thought, but well, I was desperate, and I wasn't thinking clearly."

Leon looked at the woman feeling a bit guilty. He had seen the woman's condition the night before. She could barely stand, and Leon hated imagining her facing those monsters. He was somehow amazed that she had managed to come out alive.

You never stop surprising me.

"I didn't meet any last night," Leon said, "but I trust your word, any idea of what it is?"

"Nope. I've never seen anything like it. I dare say it might be a new strain. I guess we get the privilege to test them."

"What an honor," Leon said sarcastically.

Leon looked around them. Considering the situation, they needed a plan to survive. The first thing they needed was knowing their surroundings. Usually, he could count on Hunnigan's assistance in these cases, but she was out of reach, which meant they would have to do it the old way.

Leon noticed a rocky formation in the distance. It was probably high enough for them to look around.

"Alright, so plan. We need to figure out the terrain, so I think we should try to find a good vantage point to look at what we are facing. There's a rocky cliff in that direction, do you see it?"

"Yup, I do."

"I hope you are in the mood for hiking."

"Leon, if you know me the way you say you do, you'll know I'll never be in the mood for hiking."

"But I'll do what I've got to do."

"That's the spirit," he said, "Don't worry. I can carry you if you get tired."

"Excuse you. I might dislike hikes, but I don't need anyone to carry me."

"Of course. It's nice to see that good old Claire is still there."

"The old Claire has always been here," she said, winking at him. "Just improved..."

Leon let out a soft chuckle. He was glad that Claire's humor was still there. He loved that part of her. How she could make things look less grim with a funny comment or two. Her manners had become more mature, and perhaps, a little reserved, but she was still herself; sweet and lovely Claire. He could not ask for a better partner in the current situation.

Leon took the lead mainly because he wanted to ensure Claire's safety. The woman assured him that she was ok, but her appearance said otherwise. She was too pale, and the hesitance of her steps did not go unnoticed to his watchful eye. Claire was coherent. He could scratch out any head damage due to the concussion, but there could be other injuries that he had not noticed. He would need to check in their next stop.

"Strange..."

Leon stopped for a moment, looking around. He listened but heard nothing more than birds and the whistle of the wind through the woods.

"I expected more hostiles, but we've barely encountered some Plagas infected. Don't you find it odd?"

He saw Claire look around them as well.

"Well, it is a very different scenario from last night," Claire agreed, "Perhaps they are more active at night."

"That's not a common trait when it comes to Plagas, but you might be right," Leon reasoned, "Well, then maybe we should restrict our moves to daytime. It might slow us down, but between speed and safety, I vouch for the latter. Especially if there's limited ammo in the equation."

Making stops during the night and limiting their moves to the day would make them lose some time, but he had reasons to prefer to go slower this time. Claire could use the rest breaks.

"Yeah, that might be the best," she sighed.

"Don't worry. We'll make it out of this one."

"Yeah, I know," she nodded, "Leon..."

"Yeah?"

Leon looked at her. Her cerulean eyes locked with his. They were the same blue eyes he'd met that night in Raccoon, but for some odd reason, there was something different in them now.

"Thank you."

That caught Leon by surprise. A thank you was not something he expected to hear from her now.

"What for?" he asked, confused by the sudden thank you.

"Eh, well. I don't know. For being here now, I mean," Claire said shyly, "I suppose it was hard to reach me, and you didn't have to, yet...you are here."

So that was what she meant. Leon did not know why she felt like she had to thank him. They were friends, and he would have never let the terrorist take her like that.

"Don't be silly," he said, "You don't need to thank me for that. If it hadn't been me, it would have been your brother, but neither of us would let them take you away so easily."

Claire smiled.

"Yeah, you might be right."

Leon snorted. He reached out and put his hand on her shoulder. Claire was silly to be thanking him for something as simple as that. She was cute without even noticing it, and that thought made him remember something that had been bothering since all began. Why were those bioterrorists after her?"

"I wanted to ask you," he said as they began to walk again, "Do you have any idea of what they would want to kidnap you?"

"Your guess is as good as mine," she sighed. "I receive a lot of hate mail, so maybe it is someone who holds a grudge against me. I don't know. It could be someone targeting Chris, too. Both of us have rubbed some people the wrong way for a while."

That was an understatement, especially if they were talking about Chris Redfield. Leon could easily list all of the people who were plotting any possible revenge on Chris, but Claire was different. Even though Claire worked as hard as he and Chris did to fight bioterrorism, she was a lot more discreet. Claire kept her name as low profile as possible, but she was a Redfield, and the family reputation preceded her.

They reached the base of the cliff, and Leon let out a displeased sigh. It was practically a 90° vertical climb up. Even with equipment, the climb-up was dangerous. Now, without equipment, the climb-up was technically suicide.

Leon could probably handle it, but he feared for Claire.

"Well, I guess that will be an intense hike," Claire sighed, looking at him.

Leon smiled at her. He looked around, trying to find an alternate route, but he found none.

"Don't look at me like that, Leon," Claire said. "I can tell what you are thinking. I am fine. I can do it."

Leon disagreed, but he knew Claire, and if she had something in common with her brother, it was her stubbornness.

"Look, I know you can, but it is still dangerous. So I want you in front, in case you fall, I can catch you."

Leon knew that Claire was not happy with the arrangement, but she accepted and did as Leon asked her. Leon helped Claire up the cliff, and he made sure she had a good grip on the rock before following her up. The climb was not easy, even for someone with the physical condition that Leon had. He watched her back carefully as they ascended.

When they finally reached the top, Claire left herself fall on the grass gasping for air. He could see the sweat drops forming over her unusually pale skin, and he kneeled by her side.

"Are you ok?" Leon asked, rubbing her back.

"Barely," she smiled, "I hate hiking..."

"Yeah, sorry that I made you go through that."

Leon smiled apologetically. He stood up and looked around. At least their effort had not been in vain. The cliff gave them a clear view of their surroundings, but they only saw trees, kilometers, and kilometers of trees and greenery.

"Well, at least it isn't an island this time," Claire signed by his side.

Leon frowned.

Think, Leon. This time it isn't only your ass you are trying to keep alive. You must get Claire home safely.

Leon snorted. If Claire could hear his thoughts, she would be mad.

"Hey, Leon. Look over there!"

Claire's voice snapped him out of his thoughts. The woman was pulling his arm and motioning her head at something behind them. The agent looked back and immediately understood.

There was something that stood amidst the leafy sea of forest, and its shape reminded him oddly of a tower.

"Why aren't I surprised?" he said bitterly.

"Looks like trouble, but it might be a good place to start."

"Guess we won't know until we check."

"Yeah, and that usually leads us to more monsters."

"I am sure you are used to that already," Claire smiled, patting his back. "Judging by the sun, it is almost noon. If we are planning to stop for the night, we should think of looking for a place to hide, and maybe something to eat and water."

"Luckily for us, we are in a forest. There should be a water source nearby, and how good are you in botany again?"

"Good enough to not poison you. I'll keep my eyes open for eatables."

He smirked at her comment. Claire was simply adorable sometimes.

"Ok, let's go then."

NOTE: if you guys want to come and chat about the fic, or just about CLEON in general. Feel free to drop by the discord and say hi! JOIN SERVER

#my fanfiction #my fanfic writing #Cleon #leon x claire #leon s kennedy #claire redfield #claire x leon #Resident Evil

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izlaria · 3 years

Text

Someone you like (part 5)

This is the fifth chapter of my “Someone you like” inspired fic. It’s also available on AO3 in case you prefer that platform.

This and the fourth chapter are also inspired by the “Distance” and “Talk to me” animatics by @suerakocy, so please check that out and give the artist some praise. They deserve it so much, because those pieces are beautiful.

Summary: It takes Lance years to come back to the Garrison but, when he does, his friends are there for him.

We finally get Lance pining hour!

Trigger warning: Talk of PTSD and mention of blood, but no description of violence. The story really just starts right in it.

24 and 22 years old

Lance woke up to a dark, quiet room and for a moment he couldn’t move. He could barely breathe. The air felt stuck in his throat, because as soon as he inhaled the sound of his haggard breathing would break the silence and alert whatever awaited in the shadows.

But there’s nothing there, Lance told himself.

He had dreamt of the war, again. In his nightmare, there was another explosion and Lance hadn’t been quick enough to shield whoever was with him in the room. The darkness that followed was oppressing, dense enough that he’d felt like it was water flooding his lungs.

And then the water had turned into blood.

He sat up in bed, trying to control his shaking. It had taken years and a lot of therapy, but Lance had managed not to fall into panic attacks every time such memories made their way into his dreams. Still, he was glad to have built his own house on the farm grounds. His parents deserved a good night’s rest, especially after what Lance had put them through during his time with Voltron.

He reached for his cellphone with unsteady fingers. After their last battle against the Galra, Lance had learned to leave it on during his sleep, just in case he woke up like this: with adrenaline running through his veins and the vague sensation that something was terribly wrong.

He hesitated over his contact list, before finally scrolling down and pressing call. It didn’t take long for the other person to answer.

“Is anyone hurt?” was Keith’s greeting.

“No.” Lance swallowed once, trying to erase the grit from his voice. “Nightmare.”

There was a second of silence and then the rustle of sheets. “Okay.” He heard Keith exhale harshly, but Lance knew it wasn’t in annoyance. The whole team had gone through this more times than they could count. “Okay.” Keith seemed a little calmer now. “Are you all right?”

“Not really,” Lance confessed. He leaned against the headboard and pulled his knees up. It was easier to concentrate on his breathing when he wasn’t lying down. “It was Sendak’s first attack, again.”

“You’ve been thinking about that one a lot lately.” Keith’s observation made Lance grind his teeth. It was true, but he didn’t need to say it.

“Could you call her?” Lance breathed out. His voice sounded pained and he winced, thankful that only Keith was privy to it.

“Lance, we can’t keep doing this.” His friend’s tone was weighted with his own share of hurt. “If you want to know how she is, then you need to call Pidge.”

“I do call Pidge. Just not…”

“Not when you are feeling vulnerable?” Keith sighed into the phone, sounding more tired than normal.

“You weren’t sleeping, were you?” Lance latched onto this realization. He felt stupid not to have recognized it earlier, with how quickly Keith had answered the call.

“Don’t change the subject.” The reply came harshly and it only served to confirm his suspicions.

“I’m not! We made a deal to call one another if the flashbacks started again.” He lit up the lamp on his nightstand and frowned at the pictures he kept on the opposing wall, as if it could make the real Keith feel his irritation. “Would you have talked to anyone if I hadn’t called?”

“My mom is here with me,” Keith admitted after a moment. “She and Kolivan have kept me company while Xitry is away.”

Lance let relief replace his anger. “Are both Xitry and Acxa on a mission?”

“Yeah… My leg still isn’t completely healed, so I couldn’t join them. Acxa will take another phoeb to come home, but Xitry should be back in a few days.” Keith paused and there was the sound of other muffled voices. “Mom says you should call Pidge.”

“You are a traitor and a hypocrite.” Lance scowled, despite how no one could see him.

Keith scoffed and Lance could feel the mockery in his expression even so many miles away. “I have called my partners every day they’ve been gone. Can you say the same?”

“Pidge is not my partner!” he protested, feeling heat rise up his neck.

“No, she’s just the first person you think about when waking up from a nightmare and then you call me, because if you called Hunk he would just spill it to her first chance he got.” Lance did not appreciate all the sarcasm Keith was giving him.

“I just want to be sure that she’s okay!” He frowned down at his knees, picking at a piece of lint that stuck to his pajama pants.

“Then ask her yourself!” Keith, too, was being too loud for the middle of the night. His vexation almost felt like a victory to Lance. “Pidge is smart, she can tell there’s something strange about my calls.”

“How are you a spy with this kind of acting skills?” Lance chastened.

“I’m no longer a spy, remember? I’m part of a humanitarian organization!” He heard Keith take a deep breath. “This would be much easier if you just told Pidge you’re in love with her.”

The words gave him pause. Lance didn’t yet know how to describe what he felt for Pidge. She was one of his best friends, the person who had stuck around the most after the team went their separate ways. Shiro had his own family to rebuild, and Keith and Hunk had a whole universe to help stabilize.

Pidge and Lance had found their own goals, but staying on Earth allowed them to check in on each other much more often.

“She doesn’t see me like that, Keith.” Lance hadn’t meant to sound so defeated, but it came out that way.

“Yeah, well, neither did Allura, but you wore her out.”

The reminder didn’t bring the same pain it would have a few years earlier.

Lance knew that he would always love Allura, but his feelings had settled into a more comfortable kind of affection. With the privilege of hindsight, Lance was able to see that their relationship didn’t have the same base as his friendship with the other paladins. Even if she had lived, Allura would have left to be queen, too invested in the rebuilding of Altean society.

And Lance would have stayed on Earth. That had never been in question. He had put his family through enough suffering while with Voltron.

He had seen the greatness in Allura when he was only eighteen, but that also meant he would have stepped aside if he thought their relationship was putting a strain in both of them. He didn’t regret the time they’d had together, but her continuous rejections had also taught Lance to value himself.

Keith’s voice snapped Lance out of his thoughts. “I didn’t mean to bring up Allura.”

“No, it’s fine.” Lance rubbed his eyes. “I just… I don’t want Pidge to think of Allura if I ever do ask her out.”

“I can’t promise you that.” He respected Keith’s honesty, even though it did nothing to calm his worries. “But she will never see you as a romantic prospect if you don’t make things clear to her. As far as Pidge knows, you’re still in mourning.”

Again, Keith was right. Lance had been ruminating this notion for quite some time. There were times when he still felt indebted to Allura, like he was the one responsible for maintaining her legacy, but the years had given him enough maturity to understand that was a burden Allura would wish on no one.

It was difficult to take the first steps towards a new future when he’d spent so long wallowing in the darkness of the war. In the middle of it all, Pidge had been a beacon of light, a safe port for him to rest his mind. It was no wonder that he had fallen for her.

“I’m thinking of going back to the Garrison.” He swallowed thickly, the fear of this confession rising up to knot at his throat.

The line went silent for a moment. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah.” Lance chuckled. “I’ve been working with Shiro and Doctor Holt, because the quintessence Allura left in me allows me to interact with Altean technology a little better than most. And since I’ve put my pilot license to good use in my travels, Shiro said the officers are ready to reinstate me.”

“That’s amazing, Lance!” It was weird to hear Keith sound so enthusiastic.

“I think that’s why the memories are coming back again, actually.” His next exhale came out shaky and forced. “I keep thinking of the Garrison and I just – I’m afraid that I’ll get there and it will be too much.”

“The place has changed a lot since the war,” Keith assured him. “Even if something happened, though, Shiro and Pidge are there to help you through. This could be really good for you.”

Lance snickered at his directness. Keith didn’t hide his opinions, didn’t coddle him like so much of his family. “So you think it’s a good idea?”

“I think it’s the best idea you’ve ever had.” His friend’s voice was blunt, without the dramatics that Lance himself would have added to such a statement. “Which is not saying much,” Keith teased.

“Hardy har har.” But Lance felt a smile pull at his mouth. “Does that mean you will call Pidge for me?”

There was a groan from the other side of the line. “Lance, no. I’m putting my foot down.”

“What? Why?” he complained and, with his movement, one of the pillows slipped to the ground. Lance glared at it.

“Because I’m sick of watching two of my closest friends dance circles around each other.” Keith sounded increasingly exasperated. “Talk. To. Her. Pidge is a tough girl, but she has grown a lot. She won’t be mad at you for calling.”

“I know that!” Lance grumbled.

“Then do it!” Before he could disagree, Keith had already hung up the phone.

Lance stared at the screen in discontentment. The display told him it was just before 4 am in Varadero, meaning that it wasn’t even 2 am in Arizona. His talk with Keith had distracted him from the nightmare, but now that Lance was alone with his thoughts images of it had begun to flash in his mind.

Against the dimly lit wall of his bedroom, he could almost see the silhouette of Pidge’s younger self, her body contorted by the force of a blast Lance hadn’t been quick enough to protect her from.

His need to know Pidge was safe overrode his anxiety over disturbing her sleep.

The phone rang more times than it had with Keith, which was a bit nerve-wrecking, but also a relief. Lance hoped she was having a better rest than he was.

“Lance?” The breathiness of her voice made him swallow. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he replied, at a loss of what else to say.

“Nightmares?” From her low volume, Lance could tell that Pidge must have been at her parents’ house. He felt bad for disturbing them.

“You’re okay, right?” His words were jumbled together. “I didn’t mean to wake you up, but– You are safe, aren’t you?”

“I’m safe, Lance.” He closed his eyes, feeling the last of his distress leave him with the sound of her voice. “I’m glad you called, actually.”

He tilted his head back until it hit the headboard. “Were you dreaming of me, Pidgey-Pidge?”

“No,” she cut him off brusquely, “but I imagine you were dreaming of me.”

“Why would you think so?” He grimaced at how strangled his voice sounded.

“Because I know you have had Keith calling me for the past couple months.” Her no-nonsense attitude made Lance feel like a deer-in-headlights.

“I can’t believe he ratted me out!” Once again, Lance directed his glare at a photo of Keith on the wall. “I have some choice words for that half-alien tattletale!”

“Keep your words, he didn’t say anything.” Pidge heaved a sigh. “I just know you two. As soon as he mentioned the explosion Sendak caused, I knew he was acting on your behalf.”

Lance winced, but didn’t protest. He should have realized that Pidge couldn’t be tricked. Not only was she a certified genius, but her loyalty to her friends often translated into being more observant than one might like. She and Hunk had that in common: the uncanny ability to get involved in other people’s business.

“Keith dreams of Shiro or his father. When I do appear in his nightmares, it’s usually about not being able to grab me when we were in Honerva’s mindscape,” she went on. “That dude still harbors a displaced sense of responsibility towards us.” Her tone shifted into accusing. “Which we should not be exploiting.”

“Sorry, I wasn’t trying to do that.” Lance slipped on the sheets until he was lying down again.

“What’s going on, Lance?” Pidge sounded concerned. “Why didn’t you just call me?”

There were many reasons, but none that he felt comfortable sharing. It had been a year since Lance had realized how much of an effect Pidge had on him, how happy he was to hear her voice, how warm his chest felt when she visited the farm. It wasn’t even a new development. He had loved her for as long as he could remember, so he couldn’t really define when it had gone from platonic to romantic.

Maybe the roots of it had always been there, hidden by the flashiness of other infatuations.

A part of him had resisted the urge to call Pidge because, despite how she probably knew him like the charted universe, he had hoped she would see strength in his recovery. Lance still wanted to be perceived as the hero who survived the war with a smile on his face and his psyche intact, no matter how far from the truth that might be.

“Shouldn’t it be easier?” he asked, so low that he hoped Pidge couldn’t hear him. “Shouldn’t I be over it?”

“Lance…” Even the way she sighed his name sent a shiver down his spine. “No. It shouldn’t be easy. We’ve talked about this.”

He had heard this from a number of therapists, as well as every other member of the team, but it was difficult to go against the ideals he’d created in his head.

“But you’re doing good,” Lance argued and his gaze fixed on the ceiling, without really seeing it.

“So are you, most of the time.” When Pidge said it like that, full of confidence, he could almost believe it. “When I feel like the memories are hurting me, I reach out. I come to see my parents, I stop by Shiro’s office.” She paused to take a breath. “I call you.”

Lance turned on his side, sticking the phone between his ear and the pillow. He badly wanted her to be there. They had slept side by side once, though he couldn’t remember the details of it. Even then, what had stuck out the most was the softness of her presence and the calm she provided.

He closed his eyes and focused on Pidge’s voice. “I really miss you.”

“I’m right here, Lance.” Like this, he could pretend she was in bed with him. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“I can’t believe you put a firewall to keep me out of your virtual diary, Pidge. It’s rude that you would think so low of me.”

Lance stopped short. It wasn’t the content of the conversation that surprised him, but the fact that it was Hunk’s voice, coming from the laboratories. His best friend had been on a diplomatic mission of two months and was supposed to contact Lance when he stopped on Arus to refuel his ship.

“I was clearly right, because you wouldn’t know of it unless you had tried to hack in.” And this was Pidge, sounding more incensed than he’d heard in quite some time. “I learned my lesson during our Garrison days, Hunk!”

“Shouldn’t you be buttering me up? You called me for help on this aircraft, young lady.” Lance almost snorted at this. He could already imagine the indignation on Pidge’s face.

“If I had known you’d be like this, I would have found a way to neutralize drag simply to negate your role here!” she spit back. From behind the glass walls, Lance observed the redness of her complexion and how her freckles disappeared into the color.

He expected Hunk to back down, but the man crossed his arms stubbornly and looked down his nose at Pidge. “You’re only saying that because I’m right.”

Lance knocked against a metallic frame on the door, which had been open.

“Team Punk is back at it?” He raised his hands in mock despair. “I knew I should have stayed home.”

“Lance!” Hunk rushed over to him, engulfing Lance in a hug. Over his shoulder, he saw Pidge hang back, but the anger had melted away from her expression. “Sorry I didn’t call you earlier, man. This little menace caught me on the way back from Firilar and she wanted me at the Garrison ASAP.”

“Yeah, I regret it now,” she retorted with a glare.

Hunk let Lance go in order to direct another exasperated look at Pidge.

“Hey there, Pidgeon.” Lance scratched the back of his neck, unsure of what to do. She didn’t move from her spot on the workbench and he approached almost without thinking. “Long time no see.”

As soon as he was within reach, Pidge pulsed on the balls of her feet and threw her arms around his neck. Lance’s arms were around her with no hesitance, holding her up against his chest.

“Hello,” she muttered into his shoulder. “Aren’t you supposed to be in the Cabul complex with Shiro and Curtis?”

Even as she talked, Pidge didn’t give up her grip on him. It made laughter bubble up Lance’s throat. He’d been all around the world, assisting the Garrison centers in completing Earth’s first fully functioning planetary defense system, so it had been months since he’d last seen Pidge in person.

“I flew over once the installation was done. They needed me to activate the shields with quintessence, but then Arizona called.” She slowly slid down back to her feet, putting some space between them. “Something about needing their star pilot to test a new jet.”

He watched as first confusion, then realization dawned on Pidge’s face. To the side, he could see that Hunk was also grinning.

“Are you back? Don’t you lie to me, McClain!” She pushed at his shoulders, but there was excitement in her eyes.

“I’m back. I got the go-ahead earlier today.” He felt awkward under the combined stares of his two best friends. “I do remember telling you I wasn’t ready to retire. Guess my vacation ran a bit long.”

“Oh, man, we’re back together! The last time it was just the three of us in the Garrison we were still cadets.” Hunk jumped in, waving his arms widely. “I still couldn’t go on a simulator without getting motion-sickness! Lance still thought Pidge was a guy!”

“Yeah, I’m not making that mistake again.” Lance gave Pidge a cheeky once-over, making her flush.

She had let her hair grow out again. It was tied back in a long braid, but some strands had already escaped and framed her face in a reddish halo. She looked pretty like this, but Lance thought she was always pretty.

It had taken her some time to find middle ground between the androgyny of her adolescence and the femininity of Katie Holt. Lance hadn’t always been the most tactful during this period, but Pidge had known he meant well and that he was supportive of however she felt like expressing herself. It was nice to see her feel good in her own skin.

Pidge socked him on the arm. “We’ve talked about this, loverboy. No flirting with me unless you want a new bruise.”

“But, Pidgeon,” he put a hand over his heart, “this is how I show my love.”

“Okay, that’s enough!” Hunk put a hand on their shoulders. “We don’t want to start a fight right next to the billion-dollar prototype.”

“Fine,” Lance drew out his vowels, making a show of it. “Honestly, though, you two look good.”

He wasn’t just saying this. Coming back to the Garrison allowed him to juxtapose the images of who Pidge and Hunk had been with their current selves.

Hunk hadn’t grown much taller and he had maintained the same robustness from their first meeting, but the anxiety that had followed him as a teenager now gave way to self-assuredness. He didn’t curl into himself anymore when going past other groups of students, nor did he cower in the face of Garrison officers.

They were all still young and maybe a little broken up after Voltron, but it had also taught them a lot about themselves and their worth. It was nice to see.

And then there was Pidge. With her long hair, her high-tech glasses, her unconventional wardrobe. She was nothing like what younger Lance had thought he wanted in a girl, but that didn’t stop her from occupying all of his thoughts.

“You do too!” Hunk exclaimed, clearly a little embarrassed. “I haven’t seen you this excited in years.”

“Yeah.” Lance chuckled, unable to stop himself. “It feels good to be back. We’ll see how things go with the other MFE pilots, but I’m not too worried.” He wiggled his brows at Hunk. “I’m pretty sure I can charm the pants out of them.”

“And if that fails, you can always count on Shiro and I to intimidate people,” Pidge cut in, a teasing smile on her face, but there was a deeper current of truth to her words. They had his back and Lance was grateful for it.

“I’m pretty intimidating myself.” Lance smirked. “We just need Keith and then the gang will be completed: the Garrison bad boys, who stole a prisoner and disappeared into the night!” He made a motion in the air, like a ship cutting through the sky.

“I take it back, I don’t want to be associated with you.” Pidge’s dry comment earned a laugh from Hunk and a pout from Lance.

“Oh, come on, Pidge!” He draped an arm around the girl to pull her closer, but Pidge didn’t react as he’d hoped. She leveled him with unimpressed eyes, making no move to acknowledge their proximity. Lance found himself as the one feeling flustered and hurried to mask his discomfort. “You could at least say you’re happy to have me around.”

“Of course I’m happy, Lance,” she conceded with little fanfare. “That doesn’t mean I feel like contributing to enlarging your already massive ego.”

Pidge was looking at him over the top of her glasses. Uncovered from the greenish tint of the lenses, the honey brown of her eyes appeared strangely expressive. There was an emotion in them that he had seen a lot through the years, when they were on video calls at night, by themselves, but that he hadn’t had the opportunity to see in person yet.

Lance felt his own expression soften as he stared down at Pidge.

Before he could figure out what to say, Hunk, who had been preoccupied with a series of beeps from his communicator, had turned towards them and snapped his fingers. “We have so much to show you, now that you have the clearance!” His smile was even more contagious in person than through a screen. “I don’t know how much Veronica has told you–”

“Told me?” Lance interrupted with a laugh, trying to seem as innocent as possible. “As if my sister would spill transnational secrets.”

Hunk’s mouth twisted disbelievingly. Pidge, too, shook her head.

“I know how it is to have a family in the Garrison, Lance,” she admonished, slipping out of his hold. “Everything is confidential until something slips out in the middle of Sunday lunch.”

“Well…” Lance squinted at the LED lights on the ceiling. “If something did slip out, like the existence of a certain wormhole-jumping craft that is supposed to make teludavs obsolete, then you couldn’t really blame Ronnie.”

“Especially since the only one with a high enough rank to know about that is Shiro.” Pidge groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. “A lifetime in the military and he’s still the most trusting person I’ve ever met.”

“It’s not like he’s broadcasting it to the rest of the coalition,” Hunk pointed out good-naturedly. “It’s just Lance.”

Pidge didn’t look appeased. “I’ve seen Lance reveal all our identities because he wanted to impress an alien groupie.”

Lance grimaced at the memory. It had been a little after the war, when the Garrison was still arranging diplomatic meetings with the liberated planets. As a result of his words, he and the other paladins had been mobbed and Coran had to create a diversion to get them back in their ships.

“That was a long time ago,” Lance whined. “Besides, the so-called groupie was a child and you know I can’t resist children!”

Pidge fixed her glasses, her expression a mixture of aggravation and amusement. “If you ever have kids, you’re gonna spoil them rotten.”

Lance had to bite back his immediate response. His mind had come up with an image of what his and Pidge’s children might look like – brown haired and brown skinned and too smart for their own good – and the idea warmed him to the core. He had almost said that his kids would be fine, because of their mother’s genius.

His thoughts must have shown somehow because Lance caught Hunk looking at him with a smile that promised no-good.

Lance cleared his throat. “What were you two fighting about, anyway?”

“Hunk has been trying to access my daily annotations,” Pidge explained, moving to one of the nearby computer monitors.

Over her head, he and Hunk continued to share looks and mouthed words. He couldn’t really tell what his friend was trying to say, but Hunk pointed at Pidge, then at the computer, making exaggerated facial expressions that would have been comedic in any other circumstance.

At their apparent silence, Pidge’s fingers paused over the keyboard and she whipped around to look at them in suspicion.

“She means her diary,” Hunk interjected quickly, only to receive the brunt of her glare. “How am I supposed to know what’s going on over here if you won’t let me read it? I spend half my time out in space!”

“Can’t you just believe the things I tell you? Like, I don’t know,” this Pidge grumbled with a sour look on her face, “a normal person?”

Hunk snorted. “You want to talk to me about being normal?” He glanced at Lance, as if to ask if he had actually heard her correctly. “Pidge, we had to build you a dorm in the Mecatronics Advancement building, because you kept falling asleep in the lab.” Hunk turned back to Lance and pointed a thumb at Pidge. “She would be passed out with the new Rover just constantly knocking against her back.”

“So what?” She crossed her arms and jutted out her chin in defiance. “I like what I do. At least I’m not a busybody!”

Lance could feel a new fight brewing. Or maybe it was fairer to say that it was an old fight, one that every paladin had already had with Pidge.

“Katie.” His use of her given name made Pidge’s attention snap to Lance. “We’ve talked about this. Your therapist has talked about this.” He put a hand on her shoulder, then slid it down until their fingers intertwined. “I know you like feeling useful, but we’re not at war anymore. You can rest.”

“Exactly.” Hunk sighed, thankfully not making a big deal of Lance’s touches. He reached out to ruffle her hair. “We worry, girl.”

Pidge let go of Lance to bat Hunk’s hand away from her braid. The smile she gave them was tight-lipped but fond. “Then just say that, you idiot.”

“Why should I?” Hunk shrugged, sending her a sly look. “You only seem to believe it when it comes from Lance.”

He was saved from Pidge’s cold fury by his communicator going off. It sounded more like an alert than the normal message, filling the lab with high-pitched beeps that could have awoken even Pidge in her days of all-nighters working on the lions.

“Shoot!” Hunk frowned at the device. “I have a meeting on the other side of the complex!” He looked around with wide eyes.

Pidge picked up a folder that rested on her workbench and thrust it into Hunk’s chest.

“I hope you’re late,” she said in a deadpan, making both Lance and Hunk laugh.

“I’ll see you in the taxiway later, right?” Hunk asked, already half-out of the door.

Lance gave his friend a thumbs-up. “And we can go into town after the demonstration!”

When he turned to face Pidge, she was back at the computer, shaking her head at the screen with a smile still on her lips. He leaned against the table and simply stared at her as she worked, knowing full-well that part of her attention was still on him.

“What?” she caved after a few seconds. Lance batted his lashes at her. “Ugh, stop! If you want me to go into town, then I have to finish this calculation.”

“Eight years since we were cadets here and you’re still a stick-in-the-mud.” He watched her roll her eyes. “Please, you gotta come! I don’t know any of the cool spots anymore and Hunk has been off-planet!”

“As if that could stop Hunk from knowing the good restaurants,” Pidge muttered under her breath, frowning at something on the computer. She clicked one final key, before fixing her gaze on Lance. “Also, it’s actually been twelve years since we were cadets. Time might not have gone by for us, but things here certainly did change.”

“Quiznack, don’t even remind me of that!” Lance ran a hand across his face. “Rachel has finally shut up about how we’re the same age now.”

“Did she?” Pidge raised a brow at him, leaning her hip against the workbench in much the same way as Lance had. “Cause she still called me hermanita the last time I visited the farm.”

“Yeah, you ain’t getting rid of that nickname.” He chuckled. “It’s better than mami and pop-pop calling you Palomita, though.”

Machines whirred around them, a distant sort of sound that barely registered in Lance’s mind. His thoughts were stuck in the contentment displayed across Pidge’s features, like talking about their adventures on the farm filled her with as much warmth as it did him.

And maybe it did. The paladins and their families had grown closer during the years following the end of Voltron. They had all needed support in ways that only those who had also gone through the same grief could understand. His mother had talked to Colleen and Krolia multiple times, looking for advice on how to handle his PTSD, and Lance himself had reached out to Matt when he didn’t feel like speaking to his siblings or to the team.

It was odd to look back and remember how lonely he would feel back in Castle of Lions, when there were so many people now who he loved and who had gone to the ends of the universe for him.

“What are you thinking about?” Pidge tilted her head to the side, her eyes glinting with curiosity behind those glasses.

“About the team,” he answered, because it was partially true. “About how long we’ve known each other.”

Pidge nodded, but her gaze had shifted to the ground. Hesitance furrowed the line of her brow.

“Does being here–” She paused, then seemed to gather her courage. “Does being here remind you of Allura?”

The question caught him a little off guard. It was inevitable to think of Allura when looking back at their time as a team, but Lance hadn’t expected Pidge to focus on that. Keith’s words from a few months ago echoed in his mind, that Pidge couldn’t know he had finished mourning for Allura if Lance never told her.

“A little, I guess, but it’s not bad.” He made a humming noise, considering what to say. “It feels strange to realize we’ve been without her for longer than we ever knew her.”

She pushed away from the table, just a little, so that they were facing each other. “Time doesn’t have to limit how significant a person is to us.”

“I know, but no matter how important Allura was to me, I know now that she wasn’t the love of my life.” Lance let Pidge catch his gaze, willing her to recognize that he wasn’t lying. “Because my life goes on.”

“Which is why you’re here?” There was doubt in her tone, as well as something that Lance wished he could call hopefulness.

“Which is why I’m here,” he repeated with more certainty.

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