#every single time i start reading this comic again i am filled with emotions too big for my body because there's just. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

chasingpj · 3 years

Text

𝐂𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐫𝐨𝐚𝐝

"You only want to stay because of your little boyfriend. Is he more important to you than us?“

pairing: percy jackson x child of hecate!reader

words: 5,297

warnings: angsty, mentions of breaking down

timeline: post sea of monsters

if you want to be tagged every time I update this story click here

a/n: i'm so fried after editing this, if i missed any typos, i'm sorry. as always, let me know what you think! i love getting feedback from you guys!

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five

Your siblings sit in a half-circle at the back of the Hermes Cabin, ready for their lesson. James lays out the materials you’ll need for the potion he was demonstrating today: the mortar and pestle, herbs, spell books. He has almost everything except for the sand, which was the most crucial ingredient. So, he had sent you to retrieve some from the dunes since you were the only one who didn’t need the lesson Ernest was teaching.

Ernest stands in front of Sage, Alice, Lou Ellen, and Atticus, lecturing on the properties of sand. Your siblings listen attentively, taking notes in their notebooks, all of them but one. Ernest looks up from reading a part of his book of shadows, noticing Atticus is distracted by his familiar.

"Atticus, are you listening?" Ernest asks, raising his eyebrow as he closes his book. Atticus cradles Harvey in his arms as if he is a newborn baby, his finger scratching his tummy as the animal curls up towards his chest. He doesn’t notice the other staring at him for a few seconds, looking up after realizing he had stopped talking.

"Me? Yeah, dude. I'm listening," Atticus bluffs, and Ernest squints, leaning back on the desk behind him.

"So what did I just say?"

"Atticus, are you listening?" Atticus repeats, smiling as his sisters giggle beside him. The corner of Ernest’s mouth tugs into a slight smirk as he rolls his eyes.

"What did I say before that?" He clarifies. Atticus sways in his place, continuing to soothe his tired familiar, and he hums, trying to recall what they were discussing. He’s quiet for a while before grunting. He really wasn't listening, too distracted by his surroundings to focus. Ernest pretty much lost him at “alright guys, today…” However, he remembers you volunteering to get sand after James realized he forgot to get some himself.

"Ehm… I don't know. Something about sand?"

Ernest sighs, "Yes, I was talking about sand. Can anyone catch Atticus up on the properties for sand?"

"Different sands have various spiritual properties, but the lake sand that you're using today can be used in spells for self-reflection and grounding," Travis chimes in all of a sudden. He's laid down in his bed, holding a comic book over his head as he looks at the group.

James turns away from the materials, amused that the other has probably been listening this entire time. It was the middle of the day, so the Hermes cabin was pretty empty since everyone was out doing their own thing. The only other people in the cabin were the Stoll brothers and a handful of their siblings. James chuckles,

"Travis, you want to be a witch too?" He jokes, and Travis shrugs,

"I practically am already. I'm always listening to your lessons," he admits amused, returning his attention to the comic book he was reading.

"Everyone has a little witch in them. See Atticus; even Travis was listening," Alabaster teases.

Atticus grunts, "Yeah, yeah. I was trying to put Harvey to sleep!"

“You act like he’s a baby that needs to be coddled!” Sage raises her eyebrow. Atticus had always been super affectionate with Harvey. She swears she’s never seen Atticus and Harvey separated for long like the way you and Ambrose have periods where you’ll be apart. When Ambrose knew you were safe, he’d usually wander off to find your siblings or mess around with monsters in the forest, so he wasn’t with you 24/7. But Atticus managed to have Harvey with him all the time.

“Do not judge my parenting! He likes being held,” Atticus defends Harvey, and Lou Ellen rolls her eyes.

“Parenting? You sound like a single dad.”

Alabaster snorts, “anyways," he cuts in, grabbing both of their attention. "we can start the potion whenever Y/n decides to come back with it," he says as he sits down in a nearby desk chair.

Lou Ellen hums, "she's been gone for almost 40 minutes now. The dunes are on the other side of camp, but it shouldn't take her this long?"

"Maybe she got sidetracked?" James shrugs. "We can go look for her if she doesn't come back in another 10 minutes, but I'm sure she's fine.”

"I'm here!" You announce as you burst through the cabin door, Ambrose running next to you. He runs through the wall, rushing to join your siblings. You sigh, your arm coming up to wipe your forehead that was a little damp from sweat, and your cheeks are a little flushed from being in the summer heat.

"Look who decided to come back," James announces, shaking his head in playful disapproval. You smile sheepishly, too caught up in your breathing to say anything as you pass the jar to him. You return to your spot between Lou Ellen and Atticus, hoping they wouldn't ask too many questions.

"What took you so long?" Lou Ellen asks, her voice concerned. You clear your throat, attempting not to sound hesitant as you come up with a lie on a whim.

"Oh uh, I just got distracted… some of the girls from the Aphrodite cabin were hanging out at the dunes, and I got caught up in conversation," you stutter a little, suddenly feeling nervous as Atticus squints at you. You accidentally meet his stare before looking away fast, turning so that your back is facing him.

"You're lying," he declares. You scoff,

"No, I'm not!"

"I'm your twin, y/n. I know when you are lying!" He reminds you, and you groan.

You and Atticus have always had this weird twin sense. You both can tell when the other is lying because you could pick up on each other's emotions really well. You thought maybe if he didn’t see your body language, he wouldn’t be able to pick up on your lie, but of course, he didn’t need a visual to know that you were nervous. You could also feel each other's pain to a certain extent which has always been annoying. Atticus was pretty accident-prone when he was younger and, well, still is. This meant any bumps and bruises he managed to obtain, you would always get dull aches in the same area. The most annoying part of it all was that the more severe the pain, the more you felt. Once you had period cramps so bad, you both had to call out from school because he was also curled up in his bed, declaring that he’ll never make period jokes again in his life.

You weren’t sure why you had this connection with your brother. Since you’ve had it your entire life, you had thought this was a regular thing, but you’ve recently found out that it wasn't normal at all. You just assumed that it came with the quirks of being children of a sorceress goddess. You had to admit that it was cool, but at times like this, you wished you didn’t have it because Atticus called you out a lot.

You didn't want to admit you got distracted by Percy in the combat area. On your way back, you saw him practicing with the test dummies. You watched him practice for a few seconds, and you had no intention of stopping to talk to him initially, but when he caught you walking by, he called you over.

"Admit it, you were nervous," Percy laughs, continuing to tease you about how you ran away from him during Capture the Flag. You scoff, nudging his shoulder,

"Of you? Please,” you deny even though you were nervous about going head-to-head with him, but he didn’t need to know that. “It doesn't matter if I ran away because I still won!” You stick your tongue out at him, and he smiles,

“You should still practice your sword fighting, Y/n. You can’t always run away from a sword fight,” he points out, and you frown,

“I’m not a close-range fighter. It’s just how it is.” After declaring that you “failed” in sword fighting, you were a bit insecure about your abilities. It was a good and bad thing because after your “failure,” you delved into your magic studies, and you were proud of how much better your abilities have gotten. You could confidently say that you are now a more powerful and seasoned witch than you were at the beginning of the summer. The bad part was that you never stepped foot in the combat area again. The dagger you carried around barely saw the light of day, strapped in its holster most of the time.

"Well, one day, you might not have a choice… c'mon Sabrina Spellman, show me what you got," he jokes as he gets into his stance. You smile, putting the jar of sand down before taking your dagger out of its casing.

"I don't got much to show," you say playfully.

You thought that you'd just go one round with him, but the next thing you knew, he was giving you an entire lesson. He sparred with you a few times, analyzing how you fought and he gave you tips here and there. He was helpful and patient, and you did walk away knowing a few new things.

You swallow as you feel the stares of your siblings, now interested as to why you lied. You try not to become more flustered as you recall the feeling of Percy standing close behind you. His touch was gentle, hands slightly calloused as he adjusted the way you held your dagger, and with light fingertips, he moved your limbs, putting you in a stronger stance.

You shake your head, fiddling with your fingers, “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you trailed off, hoping Atticus would drop it. You turn to your brothers, James preparing everything, but Alabaster and Ernest were just as interested as the others regarding where you could have been.

"She was probably with Percy,” Connor mocks, a sly smirk on his face as the whole cabin filled with Ooo's and amused chattering. Your shoulders slouch, head hung low, and you felt like you wanted to crawl in a hole.

"Were you actually?" You hear Atticus asks with amusement in his voice. You don't move from your place, keeping quiet. You knew there was no use in denying it because Atticus would easily sense the lie.

"She definitely was!" Alice squeals when you don’t say anything, and you glare at your sisters, making them giggle.

Lou Ellen nudges your shoulder, "what were you guys doing? You looked flustered when you walked in here,” she teases and winks.

"Probably making out!" Connor butts in before you could answer, and you gasp, snapping your gaze to him.

“We were just sparring!" You blurt out, and Connor laughs at how defense you suddenly became. The last thing you wanted was rumors leaving the cabin, and you groan as your sisters start pestering you with questions, along with the assumptions of your other cabinmates.

"Okay! Okay," Alabaster shouts a little over the chattering. "We need to focus. You guys can talk about that later," he says, and silence falls amongst your siblings. You nod, relieved that you get to avoid the topic for now. You watch as they exchange looks, silently communicating something to each other. You had an idea that it had something to do with you as Ernest’s eyes flicker in your direction and Alabaster’s face hardens. James gave them a dismissive wave with his hand as if he was telling them not to worry before continuing to sort out the materials in front of him.

"Let's start this potion. Some of us have chores to do," James cuts through the silence as he grabs the mortar and pestle and sits down in front of you and your siblings.

As James puts the potion together, carefully showing you how to cut and crush certain herbs, Ernest sits beside him, explaining the steps carefully. You lean a little forward, focusing on the lesson, and you diligently write notes in your notebook, trying not to miss any crucial details.

“Take good notes; I’m copying those,” Atticus whispers in your ear, and you squint at him playfully. His arms were too occupied with Harvey, so he was just watching the demonstration, confident that you’ll take thorough notes for him to copy. You shake your head, turning your attention back to Ernest as he speaks. After demonstrating it, they pass on the materials to you guys, and it was your turn to try it out.

The potion was a little too easy for you, and you find yourself growing a little bored as you put everything together. It annoyed you because you felt like your brothers were going easy on you and you were itching to get into the more advanced stuff such as healing potions or something like a disguising potion.

Out of your three older brothers, Ernest was the most knowledgeable about potions. He was always helping out in the infirmary, making healing potions for the Apollo kids to use. Sometimes the Hermes kids would ask him to make potions for pranks, and you’ve even seen some of the girls from the Aphrodite cabin begging him to make love potions for them. Usually, Ernest would decline their requests, giving lectures, especially to the Aphrodite girls, why a love potion is a terrible idea. But in the times that he has agreed to do them, the results were always hilarious. Once, he made a Hilarity Potion for the Stoll brothers that turned the Ares cabin into a bunch of giggling messes for 24 hours. Until that day, you’ve never seen someone giggle aggressively before.

You were the first to finish the potion, bottling it up in a miniature glass jar before pushing the cork into the top. You carefully wired wrapped the jar, attaching it to a necklace and fastening it around your neck. After being praised by your brothers, you were off to do the chores that were given to you by Connor as repayment for not ratting you out to the Aphrodite Cabin about your spontaneous meeting with Percy at the docks.

You were done right in time for dinner, the time passing as usual as you and your siblings talk and laugh at the table. Soon, you were singing along to the songs at the campfire, and by the time it came to an end, your eyelids were heavy with fatigue. You knew then that you were not going to study into the night as the soreness from sparring with Percy started to settle in your muscles. When you arrived at the Hermes cabin after washing up for bed, you could barely keep your eyes open. The last thing you remembered was mumbling a good night to Atticus and turning over in your bed.

Your dreams were always weird, so when you’re taken to a meadow in the middle of nowhere, you weren’t surprised. Actually, you were pretty content, preferring this scene instead of the bizarre settings you often came across.

You swore you could feel the soft summer breeze blowing on your face, and you take a deep breath, basking in the fresh air. You look out at the grassy land ahead of you, noticing you were standing at a crossroad. Two gravel roads stretched in either direction, one path seemingly identical to the other. You turn around to study your surroundings further. You squint, hand hovering above your eyes to protect them from the shining sun that's beginning to set behind the hills. The valley was still; the only sound you could hear was the wind whooshing past your ears, and you felt safe.

“Come with us, y/n.” A familiar voice cuts through the stillness, and you gasp, looking in the direction it came from. You find Alabaster standing on the left road, James and Ernest standing beside him. You felt your stomach turn as their eyes darken. Your arms wrap around your frame as the once warm wind turns cold. Dark clouds roll in, splitting the sky in half as the right side remains the same sunny meadow. Groans of thunder echoed throughout the land, and you can sense an eerie presence lingering in the air.

“What?” You whisper to yourself, noticing Atticus standing on the right road.

“No! Don’t,” he shouts, his expression glazed over in fear, and you step back.

“Don’t listen to him. We know what’s best for you,” James says, his arm extended out for you to hold, and you shake your head. “Come with us.”

“No! Come with me!”

“Come with us!”

You feel your heart racing in your chest, the screams of your brothers sending goosebumps to your skin. Their voices become more desperate, and you can hear the grief and panic in their voices.

“No, no, no. It’s a dream… you can change it,” you whisper, becoming overwhelmed as the thunder grows louder and so the desperation in your brother’s wailing. You stare down at the ground, and your hands are pressed firmly over your ears. You try to concentrate on shifting into another dream, but before you could, you felt as if your body was sucked into a vortex. A distant voice calls your name, and you groan, your vision blurry as your eyes flutter open.

Alabaster stands over you as he nudges your shoulder softly, whispering your name until you finally wake up. “C’mon, get up.”

You lazily sit up in your bed, your surroundings fuzzy as Alabaster guides you to stand up. You assume that it must be morning as you slip your feet into your slippers and you rub your eyes. It didn’t take you long to notice that it was still night time and you whine softly, confused and annoyed that you were woken up from your slumber.

“Al? What’s going on?” Alabaster doesn’t answer, grabbing onto your wrist, and you were too groggy to protest, following him to the back window of the Hermes cabin. You stumble a little when you land on the grass, Atticus coming to your side and grabbing on to your other hand. You don’t even notice the nervous look on his face or the way his hand was shaking, too busy attempting to stay awake.

Your vision was still fuzzy, and you lay your head against your brother's arm, feeling Ambrose’s mouth tugging on your shirt frantically as Alabaster leads you into the forest. You don’t know what it was, but you had this feeling that something was wrong and a soft sigh leaves your lips as you gather your strength to get out of your grogginess.

“Wait… wait!” You snatch your arm from Alabaster's hold. “What’s going on?” You ask as your brothers turn around.

“We’re leaving,” Ernest says, and you furrow your eyebrows. “We’re going to join Kronos’s army.”

“We? Are you insane?” You felt your heart drop to your chest, and you tried to look for any sign that they were joking.

“Come with us, Y/n,” Alabaster pleads, and you feel goosebumps forming on your skin as you get an overwhelming feeling of deja vu. The tone of his voice, the way their eyes darkened, was the same as the dream you just had. Your brothers glowered down at you, waiting for your decision.

"No… no, this isn't right,” you whisper. You let go of Atticus’s hand, just now noticing how tight his grip was. You wipe your shaky palms on your pants, and for a moment, you thought you were still dreaming. At least, you were hoping that you were still dreaming. You scan your surroundings, trying to find a sign that would tell you that this wasn't real, but you don't find one.

“There is no reason to stay here, to fight on this side. Kronos will win the war. The camp doesn’t stand a chance,” Alabaster declares confidently. Your mind wanders, recalling the dark stormy clouds that loomed over your brothers in your dream and the eeriness that took over. You could practically feel your pulse in your ears, grasping the fact that your dream was a warning.

“And how are you so sure?” Your voice quivers, and you sigh in disbelief.

“Because mother told me,” Alabaster says, and your head jerks back, your eyebrows furrowed.

“Mother? She spoke to you?”

“Yes. She’s fighting for Kronos, and she believes it is in our best interest to join her.”

A wave of emotion washes over you all at once. You were shocked, furious, even a little jealous. Your mother never came to speak to you. You knew that she tended to favor your more powerful siblings. Your older brothers have talked to her a few times, and the reminder made your chest feel heavy. You knew she looked after you, obviously. She had saved your life by sending Ambrose to you and your brother's aid. You prayed to her daily, and she occasionally sent you signs that made you feel she was there with you — but coming to see you? That was a privilege that you weren’t worthy of; at least, that’s what it felt like.

Your fury came from the fact that your mother was the motivator of all this. Why would she persuade your brothers in her own interests? Weren’t there rules that your godly parent couldn’t interfere with certain things? You weren’t sure what the rules specifically were, but this didn’t feel right. You shake your head,

“Mother isn’t omniscient. She doesn’t know who will win.” Your fist is clenched hard on your side, and you watch as Alabaster’s expression hardens,

"You're only fighting on this side because of your little boyfriend. Is he more important to you than us?"

"Boyfriend?! What are you talking about-”

"I'm talking about Percy! Don’t think we haven’t noticed you hanging out with him. Sparring together? In the strawberry fields together? You guys were practically flirting at the campfire, and Connor told us that you’ve been meeting him at night. Is that true?"

You feel your face get hot, but it wasn’t at the accusation of Percy being your boyfriend but the rage that was swirling in your chest. You hated that he thought you would compromise your loyalty to your siblings for a boy. That wasn’t true. In the right circumstances, you would always put your siblings first because you knew they would do the same. But this wasn’t about Percy; you haven’t thought of him until Alabaster brought him up. This was about loyalty to the camp.

"He's not my boyfriend. It doesn’t even matter what side he’s fighting on. I couldn’t care less. Al… this- this is about family!"

"Family?! What?”

“The camp,” you say shakily, and you shift on your feet as a sarcastic laugh leaves Alabaster’s lips.

“The camp? You mean the camp that doesn’t deem our mother worthy of her own cabin? We’ve been trapped in that Hermes cabin since the beginning. Half of us didn’t even have a bed to sleep in the first summer we arrived. You and Lou Ellen had to cram in a twin-size bed the first couple of weeks until you got lucky and something opened up. Y/n, they don’t care about us. They toss us to the side, barely give us a space to learn our magic. This camp isn’t family. We're your family, Y/n. We understand you the most. We share the same powers, the same mother. We care for you."

You look down at the ground, hating that you were unable to deny that the words he spoke held truth. The children of minor gods were treated differently. You didn’t have a cabin dedicated to your godly parent, and that was enough to make you feel lesser than. You remember Ethan Nakamura saying in passing that being forced to sleep in the Hermes cabin was pretty much an odd punishment for not being a child of one of the 12. You remember laughing and brushing it off, not thinking much of it at the moment, but now, it suddenly occurred to you that he wasn’t joking at all. He was dead serious.

You have to admit that the living situation wasn’t ideal. It affected how you were able to study your magic and came with annoying inconveniences. You slept in a sleeping bag for your first summer, tucked away in the corner of the room with Atticus. The system in place for who gets a bed was set up by seniority. The longer you've been at camp, the more secure your sleeping arrangements were. You only got a bed because, at the beginning of the summer, a good chunk of kids had left to join Kronos’ army, which bumped you up on the waiting list.

You almost gave in, only so that you'd be with your siblings. If you stay, most of them will be long gone, and you'll be forced to fight them on the battlefield, but you couldn't leave. It didn’t feel right to compromise your loyalty to the camp. Though there were days where you did feel like an outcast, you couldn’t ignore the times you didn’t. Your friends here were important to you too, and you’ve always seen the camp as your haven. It was the only place where you didn’t have to worry about monsters or entities. Sure, some people at camp saw you as some freak, but you never felt as much as a freak here as you did in the mortal world. In the end, it boiled down to one question. Did you want to fight alongside your friends for a camp that brought you a sense of comfort? Or will you fight for a bitter, greedy titian who’s only using you so he can have the throne?

"No, I’m staying,” you say with a tight jaw, looking up to meet Alabaster’s eyes. You kept thinking of the dark clouds, the thunder roaring in the background, the way the valley darkened. That was a warning. That was a clear sign to run the other way, to not walk into the storm.

"Atticus?" Alabaster shifts his gaze to your brother, who stands beside you. Your entire body tenses up, your teeth chewing at the inside of your cheek.

He couldn't go. You couldn’t bear the thought of being without him. Though you were sure that he would be on your side, it was then you decided that if Atticus left, you were going to leave too. You hated that you were second-guessing him, but you weren't sure what to believe after this whole thing being pulled by Alabaster.

"... I'm staying.” His voice is more confident than you expected it to be, and you sigh out shakily, feeling the weight of dread lift from on your shoulders. You’ll still have your twin, and right now, when you felt like your whole world was falling apart, that’s all that mattered.

"You both are fools," Alabaster hissed, and your fist clenches, gaze snapping up.

"You’re the damn fool. How are you so sure that if Kronos wins, everything will suddenly be better? Alabaster, he’s feeding off your anger for his own agenda. You really think if we fight in his little army, he’ll care about us?” Your voice cracks, you scan the crowd of your siblings looking at you. You peer over at your sisters, who were huddled behind your brothers.

“Sage, Alice, Lou Ellen? This isn’t right. We- I- don’t go, just stay here at camp,” you plead, hoping that if you could persuade them to stay, maybe your brothers will forfeit their plan. “I have a bad feeling. I had a dre-”

“Stop,” James barked. You couldn’t help but cringe; the way his eyes narrowed at you was something you’ve never seen before.

“The odds are in Kronos’ favor. He has a bigger army. His allies are strong. This camp doesn’t stand a chance. You asking them to stay is the same as asking them to die,” he declares. “Mother says if- when he wins, she will take care of us. We can live and study with her, she promised.”

Your eyes sting with tears, and you close them, fingers anxiously peeling the skin around your nails. It was way too good to be true. That’s probably something you’ve always wanted, to live as a coven with your siblings. You only wished for a conversation with your mother, but the opportunity to learn from her directly was tempting. Still, you thought about the chaos that would reign across the country, across the world. You didn’t understand how a world under the rule of Kronos could be any better than the world you had now. And you deduced that it would probably be even worse.

“It’s all bull,” you spat, and you scoff. “I’m asking them to die? Take a look at where you’re taking them! This is mad. Guys, please,” you plead again. You frown as Alice and Sage refuse to look at you, huddling close beside each other.

“I- I’m staying,” Lou Ellen suddenly breaks the silence, and you feel a rush of hopefulness. Her head is lowered in a bow, avoiding the stares of your brothers as she walks to you. You reach out your arms, grasping her hand the moment she was close enough. You hear Ernest scoff, turning around to look at Sage and Alice.

“Anyone else would like to stay?” His tone is harsh, cutting through the night and Alice and Sage stare at the floor. You could tell from their trembling hands that they were scared. If they felt any conviction, any second thoughts, they didn’t dare to speak up.

“Let’s go before we get caught out here,” Alabaster announces, and you meet his eyes one last time.

“We’ll see you on the battlefield, sister.”

The walk back to the Hermes Cabin was silent. You hold on to Lou Ellen’s equally clammy hands, the three of you shaken up from what just happened. A part of you still couldn’t even believe that this is how your night played out. You glance at Atticus, his face expressionless, but you knew his mind was scattered with a million thoughts. If your own grief wasn’t enough, you were met with the burden of the grief radiating off of him.

Atticus coped with things differently than you did. You were quick to cry when you’re sad, scream when you were angry, but he bottled it up. He would bottle it up until all his emotions boiled over the limit. Even then, he was private, never letting it out where people could see him, but no matter what, you felt it, and no matter what, you were there comforting him.

He meets your gaze, and you take in the sadness on his face. The sight of his sorrow made it hard to hold back your tears. You knew that when Al called his name, he felt your panic. He felt your dilemma. You didn’t exactly know his stance on the impending war, but you knew at that moment, Atticus made his decision because he didn’t want to be separated from you. He manages a sad smile as there is a mutual understanding of this between the two of you. He slings his arm around both you and Lou Ellen’s shoulders in a failed attempt to lighten up the situation. He swallows hard,

“We’ll be okay,” he musters out, and as confident he wished to sound, the weakness in his voice was unavoidable. You suppress the sob that threatened to leave your lips, a tear falling down your cheek, and you nod,

“Yeah, we- we’ll be okay.” Your voice falters.

and hopefully, they’ll be okay too.

masterlist taglist: @nct127bee @xxyrr

#my writing #percy jackson #percy jackson x reader #percy x reader #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson and the olympian fanfic #percy jackson fanfiction #percy jackson imagine #percy fanfic #percy jackson au #percy jackson oneshot #percy jackson and the olympian fic

252 notes · View notes

docockbrainrot · 3 years

Text

i think i want you (to leave)

Summary: We’re all running from something. Sometimes, metaphorically. Sometimes, literally. Literally running, from the very strangely hypnotizing supervillain that seems hellbent on ruining every bit of your life he can get all eight of his limbs on.

Pairing: Doc Ock X Reader/ Otto Octavius X Reader

Content: Slow Burn, NSFW eventually, 18+

AO3 link here.

Previous Chapter

Chapter 5

anathema// former vandal

The next several days are an uneventful blur. You barely leave your apartment, except for brief dog walks and grabbing food from the bodega across the street.

It’s 9 pm on Saturday and you’re fresh out of the shower, tucked away in a very fuzzy robe, lounging on the couch and watching YouTube on your television. You almost miss the subtle taptaptaptap sound coming from your window, you're so engrossed in the cooking show you’ve been binging. Gotta fill the void somehow, right?

You can’t see anything outside from where you’re sitting. The lights are on and make it impossible to peer through the reflections on the glass. Maybe it’s a bird. Or a branch is caught on the fire escape. Either way, you certainly can’t be assed to check it out and you take another sip of your chamomile tea- you’ve been trying everything under the sun, just about short of literally snorting lines of melatonin, to try to sleep better at night. Nothing’s been working. But you have been making a very valiant effort.

A few moments go by and you forget all about the window disturbance until,

TAPTAPTAPTAPTAPTAPTAPTAPTAP.

It’s jarring. It’s loud. Above all else, it’s annoying. Chekov spares you a look, like you’re the one making a racket. Effectively exasperated, you make an effort to set, not slam, down your mug, feeling decidedly not Calm and Relaxed as the tea promised. Suppose it’s not miracle shit though, is it? You would not be a good candidate for a horror movie because you fearlessly storm over to the window and throw it open (it wasn’t locked in the first place; you’re quite terrible at remembering to). You stick your head out and glower at whatever irritating mischief is happening out here, ready to rip the fire escape off the side of the brick building.

You’re greeted by something cold and hard (and indubiously metal, judging by how it felt against your sternum) shoving you back into your apartment, sending you sprawling unceremoniously to the hardwood floor. A string of profanities ready to leave your tongue, you sit up and adjust your robe in an attempt to preserve a modicum of your modesty. The rant dies in your throat as red eyed claws grip the threshold of your pre-war window and it’s almost comical the way He maneuvers himself in, far too large to be making these sorts of entrances. Standing up to his full height before you while you’re still sitting dumbfounded on the floor reminds you of just how impressively built he is. You manage to pick your jaw up, but your ass remains firmly planted on the wood.

“Uh… you could have just used the buzzer, dude. I have a front door, you know,” you sputter out, brain blitzing in pretty much every way possible. Your thoughts are racing and eventually they settle on the most important thing you can think to ask in that moment: “... Why aren’t you wearing a shirt.” You can't help the way your eyes are drawn to his broad chest, gaze lingering on the vast scarring that spills out from the metal contraption clamped around his midsection.

Otto very graciously closes the window behind himself. Or at least his little robot accomplices do it for him. You still aren’t sure what’s going on with that- the whole AI thing. Not even a blip on your radar of concerns at this point. “Didn’t want anyone to see me come in. Your building has a camera on the front, facing the street.”

“That’s why you’re shirtless?” You ask dumbly. Interesting method of camouflage. “What? No- what? It doesn’t matter- listen to me. I need you to do something for me. A small favor.”

He doesn’t seem to notice the compromised position he put you in. Typical. Gathering up your broken pride, you get up and tighten the tie of your robe a bit. It isn’t until then that he has the decency to look a smidge embarrassed and you hope you didn't just give him a free show on your way to getting to your feet. “You literally just broke into my apartment and now you’re asking for a favor? We barely know each other!”

“Less complicated when there's nothing personal involved yet, plus- you let me in,” he corrects you. You wish he would stop doing that. You wish he would stop meeting with you like this, under weird and mysterious circumstances. Even though it's only been like twice. You're already over it.

“You threw me across the room!”

“Touche.”

Otto does not apologize and you did not sincerely expect him to. The look on his face reads more like the cat that got the canary than regretful. You feel as though you’ve come to recognize that expression on his face and you also feel as though you don’t much like the fact that you’ve enough encounters with this man that you can recognize a damn thing about him. “What… could you possibly need me to do for you? I am not robbing a bank.” You just want to get that out into the open as soon as possible.

“I don’t need your help robbing a bank,” he snorts as if the idea is preposterous and you take a moment to feel insulted. Wow. Okay. You could totally rob a bank if you wanted to. Deciding to not comment on your wounded ego, you let him get to the point. Otto pulls something out of his inner coat pocket. It's some kind of rolled up paper and you think at first maybe it's a newspaper or magazine. He unfurls it onto the coffee table and holds it open with two metal claws on either side so it doesn't ravel itself back up.

You realize it's a blueprint. "This is… Oscorp," you point out stupidly, brow furrowing in confusion. There's levels to what's happening here. Layers upon layers, melding together with rot and decay and you can all but smell it. But there's something missing, something that would tie all of the wackjob shit that's been happening to you and around you together. It feels like when you have a very particular thought and then walking into another room makes it dissolve from your head. You're trying to grasp for it, to fit the puzzle pieces together, but it's just out of reach.

"Yes. It is. I have a small task I need you to do," Otto starts off, metal phalanges pushing his glasses up onto the top of his head as he looks over at you. For the first time, you can see his eyes in the light. The warm amber feels like a mockery- you have seen his cruelty in action.

"Where did you get this?"

"Does it matter?" Of course he'd say that.

Your fingertips brush against the metaphorical wayward chain link. It's right there. You just have to grab it and pull it back to you, like the anchor of a ship before it can set sail.

He's talking. You aren't listening. He's tracing a finger over the schematics. You don't see it. Realization washes over you in a heart-dropping tsunami. The voicemail you got from Oscorp plays like a broken record in your mind. 'Hello, Y/N. We're calling in regards to your employment status here at Oscorp. Unfortunately, due to a breach of security, we are having to make staffing cuts and are going to have to let you go. We appreciate your time and effort and wish you the best of luck in your next endeavor.' It didn't make sense at the time. A lot of things didn't. You replay the scene of poor David, desperately pleading for his life at the hands of the man hunched over here, just in your living room. You mentally re-run it over and over like bad 80s sitcoms on late night television.

"Lab Coat Guy…"

You don't realize you whispered it out loud until Otto goes silent.

"What?"

You slowly look at him and take a single step backwards, shaking your head. The company embroidered on David's lab coat hadn't been clear to you in the moment- but it's crystal in hindsight. Oscorp. "You got me fired." Your tone is flat, until anger flashes through you, like a streak of lightning through a dark, moonless sky, illuminating all of things that didn’t make sense before.

"It doesn't matter. What I need you to do-" He's so nonchalant, so blasé that it only stokes the embers of frustration until there's a roaring blaze burning beneath your skin. It's all about him, what he needs, what he wants. He has the nerve, the audacity, to keep traipsing into your life, kicking you while you're down and then ask for favors? You want to say all of that to him but unfortunately for you, you're an angry crier. Your outburst of bravery at him the last time you saw each other had surprised even you- but now there's so much more emotion roiling around inside you.

"No. No, no. Fuck you. You got me fired! I can't- I can't not have a job, I have to pay rent! You could get me arrested for just talking to you!" Oscorp had you canned to tie up any potential loose ends before anymore Davids could slip through the cracks. You think about how scared the poor dude must have been, threatened into stealing blueprints from the biggest corporation in the city, for one of the most infamous criminals. You don't know how they found out you were even remotely involved and you don't want to know.

Tears are streaming down your cheeks and once the floodgates have opened you're very familiar with how long it's going to take to close them again. After all you've been bottling this up since you found out, too disappointed to even tell any of your friends or family.

Otto appears taken aback, to say the least. He even looks like he's at a loss for words; that's a first. You know he could kill you where you stand in the blink of an eye, but in that moment you don’t even care. You’ve been trying so hard for so long to get on your feet, to do things for yourself and get away from the past. You moved across the country, you left everything behind, you got a damn dog. It seems like every time you manage to take a step forward in life, you’re knocked flat on your ass, apparently literally sometimes. It isn’t fair. Things don’t come easily to you, you’ve always had to work for them. You aren’t wealthy, you aren’t a supergenius, you’re just… you. The job at Oscorp was good money and you really felt like you were getting your shit together for a while.

“They’re not who you think they are,” he says finally, so calmly, with such carefulness about his words, that you sniffle pathetically and look up at him. He doesn’t look nearly as pleased with himself as you thought he might. And here you’ve been, under the impression that he gets off on hurting people. “Oscorp. I’m not… I’m not just doing this for me. You have to understand that.”

The schematics are furled up and tucked away. You make the mistake of meeting his eyes. Maybe it’s just the tears that blur your vision, but you swear you see a softness there before they’re hidden away again by his glasses.

He lingers at the window.

“I hope you’ll reconsider.” And then he was making his exit, even taking care to gently close the window on the way out. But he raps on the glass with his knuckles from where he stands on the fire escape and you know the look of confusion on your tear-streaked face speaks for itself. Otto points to the latches on the window. ‘Lock it.’ He mouths before he’s gone, presumably to wreak havoc and harass other unsuspecting young women that don’t want anything to do with him.

You thought everything had come together- but the more sense you make of it, the less you seem sure of the bigger picture. You aren't even sure exactly what he wanted you to do.

You’re left with an endless bounty of questions, and not enough answers to satisfy any of them.

#otto octavius x reader #doc ock x reader #fanfiction #otto octavius #doc ock

59 notes · View notes

jadedxrealityw · 3 years

Text

-Courage- Draco Malfoy x Female Reader

♡~🐍~♡

Request: hello there 😃 can i request a draco x gryffindor! reader where draco is kind of secretly in love with her and he finally takes the courage to ask her out on a hogsmeade date?? just draco being super cute and a gentleman and maybe he gives her his coat because it's cold??? just something super cute (the kind of rotting teeth lol). an e ways, i love your work and i hope you are doing well ❤❤

Kody- yeah fluff!

Warning: A little bit of cursing, nervous Draco and the fluff overload.

House: Gryffindor

♡~🐍~♡

the Slytherin boy hushed his fellow housemates as he spots your H/C hair as you turn into the hallway him and his friends were standing in. His eyes study each step you take as you walk. You were casually chatting with Hermione Granger, a conversation that he couldn’t hear.

as you past by him, you turn your head to face the Slytherin boy. He feels his body freeze as his grey eyes meet your E/C ones. You smile at him and wave politely. His body couldn’t function properly as he saw your beautiful smile. The tall Slytherin Blaise looks at his lovestruck friend and lifts Draco’s arm.

he moves the pale boys arm side to side, to simulate a wave. You giggle and feel Hermione nudge your shoulder, she gave you a knowing look and you rolled your eyes before the both of you left the hallway. Blaise let go of his arm and sighed “You are pathetic”

Draco groans in annoyance and crosses his arms “Shove off. I’ve never done the emotions thing okay? It’s-” “Different” Blaise finishes. The young Malfoy nods slowly. It was strange really. A gryffindor girl had stolen the heart of the cold boy who people feared because of his wealth and status.

but you weren’t intimidated by him in the slightest, you treated him like every other person and chatted with him whenever he was around. When no one was around, you knew him as the soft Draco who talked about how much he liked Alchemy and Quidditch.

while others knew him as the bully who picked on anyone who got in his way. God forbid he was in a bad mood and someone accidently bumped into him. It wasn’t a pretty sight to say the least. He tried his hardest to be good around you, the way he would switch up attitudes when you walked by was comical.

even when your fellow Gryffindors told you about Draco’s bully, you would always say “Well we don’t know what happens in his home life, it could just be the way he was raised or how he deals with his emotions. We have no room to judge”

it was inevitable the way he fell for you.

♡~🐍~♡

“Okay, now remember what we practiced” Blaise spoke as he patted the pale boys back. Draco was sweating bullets as his hands gripped the white roses in his hand. “How in the hell did you convince me to do this?” Draco sputters out as he runs a hand through his platinum blond locks.

Blaise shrugged “Simple actually, i called you a pussy” Draco narrowed his eyes “Right” he grumbles and feels Blaise nudge his shoulder. He points to a group of two Gryffindors and one Ravenclaw. You, Neville Longbottom, and Luna Lovegood.

as soon as Draco saw you, his little to no confidence drained from his body completely “I can’t do it” he goes to turn around, but Blaise grabs his by the hood of his robe “Not going to happen. Now man up and go ask her out. Who are you? I thought you were Draco Malfoy? Not some wuss”

Draco rolled his eyes “i am not a wuss” he snaps. “Oh really? Then go ask her out” Blaise grins and gestures to your little group. Draco takes a deep breath and shakes his hands a bit ‘Don’t screw this up’ he thought and began to make his way over to you.

when he was a couple feet away, you looked up from Luna’s book and see your other platinum blond friend and feel your heart skip a couple beats. “Hey Draco” you say with a polite smile. You could tell he was anxious by his demeanour, you just didn’t know why he was. ‘was he holding something behind him

he smiles nervously and points in the direction behind you. “Can i talk to you in private?” he asked. You didn’t mull over your answer much and nodded, breaking away from your group of friends. The Slytherin boy leads you to the other end of the courtyard.

when he stops, he turns and face you, holding a single white rose. Your eyebrows furrow slightly in confusion “Um- So the Hogsmeade trip is this saturday and i- well. I wanted to know if you wanted to go with me?” he sputters out. It was quite amusing to see how much he spiraled.

your lips turn up in a amused grin “Are you asking me out, Draco Malfoy?” he seems to study for your face for any signs of disgust or resentment before answering “Yes. Yes i am” he says a bit more confidently. Your heart rate picks up a bit and you nod slowly “I’d love to” you spoke.

his grey eyes lit up a bit at the world love and he coughed a bit, trying to keep up that confidence. “I’ll see you Saturday, in front of The Three Broomsticks” he speaks, his signature smirk gracing his pale features. You nod once and take a step forward, closer to him.

he seemed a bit shocked and his body tensed up again. Holding in your laughter, you grab the rose from his hands and smell it, the sweet fragrance filling your nose. A calm feeling spread through you and you look up at him, giving him a smile. “Thank you, Draco”

you lean up and plant a quick kiss on his cheek. You could very easily see the dark blush against his pale skin and pull away “Goodbye” you spoke and turn away, holding the rose between your thumb and index finger, leaving Draco stunned in your wake. He let out a deep sigh and crouched down

“Merlin i am pathetic” he mumbles.

♡~🐍~♡

“I can not believe your going on a date with Draco Malfoy. I can’t believe he asked out a Gryffindor half-blood as well.” Hermione exclaimed from beside you. You laugh as you continue walking along the path of Hogsmeade adjusting your outfit hear and there. “You’ve said that three time now since we left the train ‘Mione. Now i have to get going”

you point to The Three Broomsticks and give her a polite smile before walking into the establishment. You gaze around until your eyes land on the familiar Slytherin sitting down at a table. You walk over, saying excuse me to people who were in your way. When you got to the table, you sat down abruptly.

Draco looks up at you and gives you a nervous smile “Hey” he breathes out. Immediately regretting his choice of introduction. “Hi” you reply back with a small chuckle. “Um i ordered two butterbeers for us, they should be here any minute” he says and you nod slowly.

‘This is so awkward’ you both thought.

soon enough, like Draco said the butterbeers came and the waiter place both glasses on the table. You both reach for the same glass, your fingertips graze against each other and Draco pulls back instantly and goes for the other glass. You chuckle lightly and pick up the butterbeer, bringing it up to your mouth.

he does the same and takes a sip before placing it back down at the table “You are so tense” you say, making his grey eyes widened to the size of saucers. “I am aren’t i?” he says, a nervous smile playing at his lips. You nod “You are never this nervous when we talk before. Is it because it’s a date?”

he didn’t like how well you read him, but at the same time he loved it. He was conflicted at the moment actually. “Yeah” he spoke. You smile kindly “Then don’t think of it as a date and think of it as us casually hanging out like we always do." Draco smiles and nods his head “Okay”

“Now if you see me with hair dye on Monday, you didn’t. Me and the twins are turning Snape’s hair pink” You grin and watch as the boys face turns into one of astonishment “Your such a troublemaker” he laughs and you raise a brow “Would you expect any less?”

♡~🐍~♡

with your advice. Draco became less tense around you, just enjoying your presence. After ‘The Three Broomsticks’ you both went to a couple other places. Now it was late in the evening and the both of you missed the train back to school and were walking along the path.

“I can’t believe we missed the train” you laugh before taking another lick of your sugar quill. He laughs along with you, popping another flavor bean into his mouth. “Good thing were almost there” he spoke and you nodded. The wind started to pick up and a harsh breeze blew against you.

goosebumps dotted all over the exposed skin on your arms and a bit of your stomach. You shivered and wrapped your arms around yourself, trying to sheild yourself from the wind. Draco turns his head and looks at you, noticing your shivering body.

without hesitation he starts to take off his black jacket. He goes over and drapes it over your shoulders. You look at him and go to take it off “I don’t want you to be cold-” “-nonsense. I have a sweater on anyway.” he shrugs, gesturing to his emerald green Quidditch sweater.

you smile lightly and put your arms through the sleeves and zip it up. It was definitely too big for you, but was indeed warm. Draco looked at you and felt his heart race. In his eyes you looked absolutely adorable in his jacket and his heart melted at the sight.

you catch his gaze and tilt you head “Is there something on my face?” you ask and he shakes his head rapidly “No. Of course not, you just look good in my jacket” he says, regretting his words a bit. A cheeky grin decorated your face ‘did he just compliment me?’ “Thanks” you nod and both go back to walking.

♡~🐍~♡

you both had just walked into Hogwarts and were walking down the halls. Your hands were at your side as you made your way through the halls and during your stroll you felt a hand graze yours. Draco wanted to hold your hand, but was too much of a wuss to ask.

after doing that a couple more times with no response, he went to pull his hand away and was shocked to feel your fingers interlocking with his. A stupid grin was plastered on his face as you both now walked hand in hand. Soon enough you made it to the Gryffindor common room.

“Well thank you for the lovely day Draco. I had a lot of fun” you spoke and he nods in reply “I did too” he says and feels you let go off his hand and open your arms out for a hug. Draco wraps his arms around your waist and embraces you. The smell of green apples fills your nose as you dig your head into his neck.

his scent calms you in a way and you smile. He smiles as well, trying to ignore his increasing heart rate. After a minute or two, you pull away slightly and observe as Draco’s grey eyes flicker to your lips and back to your eyes. You could tell that he wanted to kiss you. Hell, you wanted to kiss him.

you could see the conflict flicker in his eyes. Weighing his options you presume. You felt his grip on your waist loosen “Draco Malfoy, if you don’t kiss me right now” you narrow your eyes a bit. Draco sighs in relief and smashes his lips onto yours.

you respond by kissing him back and smile into the kiss. He does as well, using one hand to cup to your face while the other traveled to the small of your back to pull you flush against his chest. A kiss did get a little sloppy towards the end, but you both couldn’t control yourselfs.

something called oxygen interrupted your kiss and you both pulled away. Heavy breathing was heard between the both of you. “I- wow” Draco breathed out, a laugh following. “yeah wow” You repeat and the both of you let go of each other. “I’m really glad you said yes to the date”

“Me too. Considering your hopelessly in love with me right?” you say, quoting a conversation you heard earlier in the day. His eyes widened before he looks down in shame “Oh merlin, you heard that” he sighs and you chuckle. “Good thing i’m also in love with you too right?”

he looked up quickly when he heard that, hope filling his eyes again “yeah. It’s great actually” he spoke a little loudly and you laugh, hushing him “Sorry” he mutters with a sheepish smile and you give him a reassuring smile. “Well it’s late. I’ll see you tomorrow right?”

he nods and you turn to whisper the password to the fat lady “You still have my jacket” you heard him say as the portrait opens. You take a step in and turn around giving him a cheeky smile “Oh i’ll give it back. On our second date of course.”

before he could say anything the portrait closed and he smiled “I’m going to marry her”

♡~🐍~♡

Kody- This is hella fluff. Just a shit ton of fluff dude. Anyways, peace.

280 notes · View notes

hp-imagines-07 · 4 years

Text

Only You

Sirius Black x Fem!Gryffindor!MuggleBorn!Reader

Universe: Harry Potter; The Marauders era

Type: fluffy and ANGST (but with a happy ending, u'll love it, i swear)

Summary: [y/n] and Sirius' relationship is in danger... the request really

Request: YES|no - "Great so the idea I had was a Sirius x reader - regulus threatens the reader and says he will hurt Sirius or whatever if reader doesn’t break up with him . the reader doesn’t tell anyone and don’t listen to begin with then something happens so she feels she has no choice . Sirius is suspicious since lily told him that the reader said he is the one and also the fact she is avoiding everyone . Find out about it when they see regulus threaten reader and then Convinces the reader to get back together. Also the reader is muggle born." @rebsx thank you for the perfect request, hope you cry with me at the sad parts

Prompt: xxx

Warnings: cursing probably, heartbreak in slowburn(?) and threats maybe

Song: xxx

Word Count: 5.6K (i can't believe it's this big, i swear it wasn't my intention)

Posted: 28th of September 2020

A/N: i'm sorry that i took so long to write it... but i really hope you like it as much as i loved it (probably my best work until now)

My Others Accounts: @imagines-07 (Principal Account) | @obx-imagines-07 (Outer Banks) | @mcu-imagines-07 (Marvel Comics Universe) | @stit-imagines-07 (Stranger Things & IT) | @cm-imagines-07 (Criminal Minds)

MY MASTERLIST

"See you after Charms, my love." Sirius says and kisses [y/n]'s forehead, before pecking her lips and walking away to his next class. She just smiles to herself and starts to walk up the stairs to the Fat Lady Portrait, going to spend her free period reading a book or doing nothing alone in the common room.

Having free periods like this are the worse, [y/n] can't even spend time with her boyfriend or any of her friends because she was the lucky one to have a free period on the last class of Wednesday while all of them were on Charms together.

As she was getting to the next staircase, it decided to change with all of the other ones. Her eyes rolled when the entrance of the Gryffindor common room just got more and more distant, and then she saw something weird...

Slytherins. Wait, not just ordinary Slytherins or one of the ones she shares tables at Potions, but Blacks. Regulus was in front of the other ones, walking down the stairs with Narcissa and Bellatrix just behind him. All that [y/n] was wishing was that the stairs they were while staring at her, wasn't going to meet with the one she was at. But luck wasn't by her side.

[y/n]'s hands held her up by holding the handrail at her right when the stairs stopped moving - even after 6 years, she couldn't get used to it - and her eyes founded the three Slytherins at the same staircase as her, going down the stairs with light steps that she wouldn't be able to listen if she wasn't looking at them.

'What in bloody hell would a Slytherin be doing at this part of the castle?'

[y/n] shook her head and all the weird thoughts went directly to the back of her mind, where they should stay and never get out. Her feet started to bring her up the long stairs she still had to walk to get to the common room and even with her huge and heavy bag filled with books of all the classes [y/n] had today, her legs were moving fast. It was probably the need to stay away from a few people that just hated her existence and stay in a safe place, but just maybe...

As they walked straight to each other, [y/n] could feel her heart beating at her throat and ears, chills going up and down her arms and legs, and a weird feeling in the deepest part of her heart. Her gut was screaming to her that something was off and that she should get to the common room as fast as her legs could take her up the almost infinity stair.

And with the fact that the unique people that she could see all around her were the Black cousins, [y/n] knew they were up to something. And just the thought that they were up to something while looking at her, made her hands cold and sweat and her knees feel weak.

As they finally got to each other, Regulus just took his hand out of his pocket and stopped you with a warning hand in front of your chest without even the need to touch you. [y/n]'s face turned towards them and the three of them were already looking at her with their characteristic expressions.

Regulus had one of his eyebrows raised and the corner of his lips that, if you squinted your eyes really hard, you could notice that it was a little upwards in a sly smirk. Narcissa had her serious face, without the slightest of emotion letting through her face, and even her eyes were as deep as the end of a maze can be. And Bellatrix had her wide smile, that could stay in any child's worst nightmares, with her big eyes as wide as her smile was.

"Uhm, hello?" [y/n] said with a delicate voice, just above a whisper, but even this low, she showed confidence. It doesn't matter if the girl was dying on the inside, she would never let anyone - especially them - know that they got under her skin. Never...

"We need to have a little chat with you, sister-in-law." It was Regulus strong and deep voice that cut the insides of her ears in fear with his sarcasm while using the nickname.

"Spill." Sirius' girlfriend said and crossed her arms across her chest, in a position of authority while she pretended to not notice Bellatrix's eyes that went directly to her bobs and the way the girl was shifting on her foot.

"The thing is that it's kinda complicated what I have to say to you. But it is an order from my parents, so I will have to say it in any way..." Regulus started and [y/n]'s left eyebrow raised without her even think about it and her right hand moved to put his hand down. "So, I need you to break up with my big brother."

The words seemed so funny that [y/n] tried she really tried to not laugh at it, but a chuckle got out from the back of her throat as the sentence hit her.

"Excuse you?"

"I am serious. And I didn't want to get in details, but my mother says that you are a terrible influence for Sirius and that you can't date him." Regulus explained to [y/n] but her head just shook in disbelief.

"Look, I'm so sorry to disappoint you. But if you think that I'm going to break up with the boy I love, all of you are dumber than what I thought you were." [y/n] said and started to walk upstairs again, just wanting to go back to her dorm or the common room and read the book Remus gave to her last weekend. "Thank you for your attention, but I won't."

"Ok, do whatever you want to do," Regulus said and his cousins looked at him with surprised faces, probably not expecting the way he accepted [y/n]'s decision. "But I should warn you that, my mother's orders were to do something with Sirius if you just decided to not listen to us. And that's what I will do." Your body froze five steps upwards the one he was in and four from the girls. "So, I am giving you until Friday. You have two days to break his little heart, or we will hurt him physically and we won't hesitate."

[y/n] gulped loudly with the words of the brother of her boyfriend and felt her fingers starting to shake. No, they wouldn't do this to Sirius... His own family? No, they couldn't. Right?

The thing was that she didn't know the answer and was afraid to find out.

Friday.

It was finally Friday and [y/n] didn't have the guts to break up with Sirius. She just couldn't.

And since the threaten, she has had a billion eyes to look out for Sirius. Every single second that he was away from her, she was worried sick about him, and all of their friends noticed the way that [y/n] couldn't stay mere seconds without her boyfriend, or she would start to freak out and look for him at every corner of the castle. [y/n] got paranoid when it was still Thursday.

And now, at her last class of Friday, she couldn't bring herself to change her gaze from Sirius to the professor, neither pay attention to the new subject. Lily's eyes were focused on her since the start of class, but [y/n] didn't even notice the redheaded strong gaze on her. And it was worrying Lily.

As the professor dismissed everyone, Lily ran behind [y/n] like a lost puppy, that was already outside the classroom looking around her like a mad man.

"Hi, babes. Can I talk to you?" Lily's voice was the sweetest she had ever heard but [y/n] still jumped scared with the sudden voice.

"Sorry, I can talk right now..." The other girl said and tried to turn around and run - probably to Sirius - but before she could breathe a little bit far from her best friend, Lily held her wrist and didn't say a word while she brought [y/n] to another corridor, an empty and quiet one. "What are you doing, Lily? I said I can't talk right now!" [y/n] hissed at her but Lily just rolled her eyes at the stubborn girl.

"Look, you've been acting weird since your free period on Wednesday, but today you're looking like you're paranoid. What's going on?" Lily asked with an expression of empathy and held both of [y/n]'s hands on hers, softly caressing her best friend's hands with her thumbs. "You can tell me."

[y/n]'s shoulders started to relax under her friend's warm touch, she felt her tense forehead starting to release of this tension and her vision being blurred by tears as she realized what she had gotten into. "I- I..." She didn't know how to tell for Lily about what [y/n] have been feeling lately, it was just too much to take care of alone. And then she let herself open up to her best friend, because if there was anyone that would listen to [y/n], was Lily. "I don't know how to say this, but-" Her weak voice was rudely stopped with a loud noise coming from a corridor close to the one they were on.

'Sirius!'

[y/n] ran away from Lily as fast as her legs could take her tired body from all the sleepless nights since Wednesday and the redheaded one followed just behind her friend with plenty question marks flying around her head.

As they got to the corridor, there were confused, scared and disgusted people with what was happening. [y/n] excused herself and passed through everyone that was on her way to the middle of the circle while people sent her rough looks.

When [y/n]'s eyes met Sirius, she felt the air finally coming back to her lungs, the color of the world coming back to her vision and the control of her moves coming back to her brain, with the view of Sirius completely fine.

"Oh, my Godric Gryffindor. What happened?" Lily's voice beside [y/n] brought her back to reality and she noticed Peter with a broken arm, just at Sirius' left.

"W-We don't know..." Remus said and fell on his knees to help Wormtail to stay up, when he noticed no one was going to help him, he looked around with raised eyebrows. "A little help here?"

James and Sirius didn't wait a second to help their friend in need and in a few seconds all of you were taking Peter to Madam Pomfrey.

[y/n] and Lily were holding Peter's broken arm in the air, so it wouldn't hurt any more with any touch or sudden move, while James carried Peter by his left side, Remus by his right and Sirius was guiding them while holding Peter's waist to make sure he wasn't going to fall.

"Don't worry, Wormtail. You're not going to die." Sirius said joking and just James laughed.

"What? I'm gonna die?"

"Nah, don't worry about it, Pete. It's just a broken arm." James said back but Peter's eyes just got bigger and as he turned his eyes to look at his arm, Remus put one of his hands on his friend's eyes before he could look at his arm in a position that it shouldn't be. Well, if looks could kill, Prongs would be six feet underground just by the glance Moony gave to him. "Sorry..." He whispered back and focused on trying to hold Peter on his feet.

As soon as Madam Pomfrey saw them, she thanked for their help, said that what they did was smart - bringing Peter to her directly and not trying to solve this by themselves - and asked for all of them to wait outside.

"My love," Sirius called [y/n] the same moment the both of them stepped out of the room. "can I talk to you for a second?" He asked and she just nodded as an answer while he held her hand in his and brought her to as far as they friends couldn't hear them. A second before Sirius could open his mouth to say what he wanted, [y/n] jumped on him.

Her arms hugged his neck and her forehead rested on his shoulder, it took a little bit to Sirius understand what was happening but not even a second after, he hugged her back with such as love and caring as she was.

He couldn't actually understand what was happening and even with [y/n/n] loving to hug him at all the times she could, Sirius knew there was something else there. "Hey, what is all this for?" He asked a few seconds later in the embrace and when he felt [y/n] starting to release her tight grip on him because of his question, his arms just held her body closer to his (if that was possible).

"I don't know... I was just worried that you were the hurt one." [y/n]'s voice was just above a whisper and Sirius felt his heart clench with the worry and sadness on her delicate voice.

"Well, I'll just let you worry because it was almost me.." Sirius trailed off and [y/n] felt her whole world stop as she sank the words in. She raised her head to look on Sirius' eyes and hoping to find that little glow from when he was joking or pranking someone. But it wasn't there. "The spell hit Peter because he accidentally stumbled and ended up in front of me..."

Oh, no...

"Sirius... I need to tell you something." That was it, [y/n] was going to tell him how his family was threatening her to break up with him or they would hurt him. This was going to end now. But then she saw him. [y/n] saw Regulus behind a group of people looking at her like he could read her mind - well, maybe he could... He knew she was going to tell Sirius about it. But she couldn't, or they would hurt him. "I-I-I..." She looked back at Sirius' gorgeous face, filled with love and empathy towards her. [y/n] couldn't do it. When her eyes looked at her feet she did it... "Sirius, I-I want to b-break up..."

Three days, eight hours, twenty-five minutes and ten seconds.

It's been three days, eight hours, twenty-five minutes and eleven seconds since [y/n] broke up with Sirius.

And they couldn't be worse without each other.

Neither of them left their dorm room for the weekend and if it wasn't for James and Lily, they wouldn't have eaten anything in those two days. Remus was starting to actually worry about Sirius and Marlene was worried like crazy about [y/n]...

But the problem was that, even Sirius was talking to his friends that he didn't know what to do without her, [y/n] wasn't...

She closed the curtains of her bed the second she sat at the bed but even after three days, eight hours, twenty-six minutes and four seconds, she didn't open it. And she wasn't going to until she could keep them closed.

The first night was torture to all of her friends. [y/n] tried, she really tried, but the loud and agonizing sobs were coming out of her in any way... She cried for the whole night all by herself. On the first ten minutes, Lily, Marlene and even Alice were trying to find a spell to open her curtains so they could help her friend and hold her, but nothing seemed to work.

After a while, they all went to their beds and when they thought she was going to stop crying, with a couple of seconds in silence, [y/n] wasn't able to hold it and she started crying harder. Marlene was silently crying on her bed with her face on her pillow, Alice went to her dorm and Lily tried to stay, but she couldn't take it, so she went to James' room. When she got there, Sirius bed was empty and they were all sleeping, Lily felt bad by coming here but as she turned around to walk away, James stopped her.

Anyone had ever seen Lily cry so much because of something...

Marlene was the unique one on the room with [y/n], she even thought of going somewhere else just to not listen to her best friend cry on that way, but she couldn't let her alone there.

[y/n]'s heart was aching like it was never before. Her first heartbreak, when her family forgot her birthday, when Sirius appeared with scars after summer break... Nothing compared to this moment where she had to hold herself while crying because she had a broken heart that would never be fixed again, and it was all her fault.

Well, that's what she was telling herself. Even with [y/n] wanting to stop thinking about anything - because literally had a way to get to Sirius Orion Black -, her brain was repeating like a mantra that it was happening because she wasn't the perfect girl for him.

While Sirius was bad...

Oh, the boy was heartbreak.

But he didn't want to think much about it, because he was still so confused about how everything just seemed to have collapsed after just a blink.

Because it felt like it, a second he was holding her and then he blinked and she broke up with him... All Sirius wanted was to understand what made [y/n] break his heart the way she has done, but he couldn't.

First of all, he could remember pretty well of when he was worried about her breaking up with him last month (when she was just doing a surprise for him) and Lily told him about how [y/n] said once how she knew he was the one. The one she wanted to be engaged with, married, live together, have kids with and have the happily ever after.

Lily also told him how [y/n] loved Sirius more than anything in this entire world and how she would do anything for him... So, it didn't fix it.

And he also thought about everything his brain could possibly think of that could be in any way a reason for her to break up with him and he wasn't understanding why nothing fixed!

Because even when [y/n]'s mouth was telling him she wanted to break up, her eyes couldn't even look inside of his and Sirius was able to read her better than a book. He saw by how her shoulders were down that she was already depressed before finishing her sentence, the way she started hyperventilate that she was trying to not cry in front of him, how her voice was failing on the middle of the words that she was holding down her sobs, the way she was nervously playing with her own fingers, her trembling lower lip, eyes that were screaming how she loved him... Everything was telling him that she didn't want to do it.

So, why did she?

That was the question that was haunting his thoughts since the first second he took to think about what had happened there.

Sirius thought that staying at the Astronomy Tower would help him to think about it, just like it had always helped [y/n] to study, but nothing was helping him...

Then he got frustrated with all of this bullshit. All he had to do was talk to [y/n], right? Then she would explain to him what actually happened and everything would be alright again because they would get back together and be happy just like they were.

And, while Sirius was thinking about what he was going to say to [y/n] so she would explain everything to him, Marlene, Lily and Alice woke up really early and ran to Professor McGonagall's classroom. If there was someone with more experience in heartbreaks than the girls and that would be willing to help [y/n] was Minerva.

It wasn't a lie to anyone that [y/n] was one of her favourite students - but if you ever told this to McGonagall, she would deny - and she would be happy to help.

So, when the girls explained to her why [y/n] wasn't there at class, why she also wasn't on the great hall for meals and how she was trying to stay distant from everyone, Minerva went right away with the girls to their dorm to check up on [y/l/n].

The same second the professor passed through the Fat Lady portrait, all the students at the common room during their free period looked at McGonagall like she was an alien inside of Hogwarts, maybe it was because she was supposed to be teaching Transfiguration to fifth years, but just maybe...

As they got close to the dorm's door, Marlene - that was the last one to leave - noticed that [y/n]'s sobs had finally stopped and all that they could hear were soft sniffles, heavy breathing and her bed creaking as [y/n] moved around to find a comfortable position that she hadn't been on the last days.

When the girls opened the door for Minerva, the first thing she noticed was the spell around the girl's bed so no one would bother her and if it was in another situation, the professor would be proud of her by such a well-done spell.

[y/n] was crying in a typical way without tears. Because there weren't any more tears to fall from her eyes.

"How long has it been?" Minerva asked while looking at the girls beside her that just shrugged her shoulders.

"Three days..." [y/n]'s raspy voice came out as a whisper but was stopped by a quiet sob. "Three days, ten hours, seven minutes and third-six seconds."

All the girls (and the woman) in the room felt their hearts clench with [y/n]'s hurt voice and how she knew exactly the time that had passed since the breakup. McGonagall, with just a shake of her wand and a whisper under her breath, made the spell open [y/n]'s curtains and in just a second they saw [y/n] wearing Sirius' quidditch jersey and her arms tightly holding one of her pillows to her chest as her legs tried to get closer to herself. She looked so vulnerable there, sitting alone at her bed, with swollen and red eyes...

Lily could feel that, if Sirius saw her like this, he would go back in time and make her sit at the right table on Potions Class, so she would never see how he was struggling with the potion, she would never have helped him to do it and they would never fall for each other.

Marlene was the fastest one to jump on [y/n]'s bed and hold her like their both lives depended on it.

Her soft arms wrapped around her best friend's body as [y/n]'s arms begrudgingly let go of her warm pillow, soon wrapping around Marlene's neck and gold blond hair. A single tear feel from [y/n]'s left eye, softly laying on her friend's shoulder.

Lily and Alice followed Marlene just right behind her and the three girls held their friend as close as they could. Minerva couldn't hold back the little smile that appeared on her face while seeing the girls caring so much about each other.

"Miss [y/l/n], I think you should get ready for your next class." McGonagall said softly and all the girls looked at her. [y/n] looked at her favourite professor with a grateful glance, that Minerva answered with a little nod.

The girls helped [y/n/n] get dressed, but even with her friends helping her, the girl just didn't seem to say anything to them about what happened between her and Sirius... But they knew that she was going to share with them every detail of her thoughts as soon as she was ready, and they just couldn't push it, even if they wanted to - which they didn't.

Sirius had been looking everywhere for [y/n].

Since he decided what he wanted and needed to say to her, Sirius ran downstairs from the Astronomy Tower and started to look for her at the corridors, classrooms, bathrooms, basically everywhere she could be, he had looked for.

His right hand went through his dark black locks in frustration as he looked around himself to see if he could grab a glimpse of [y/n]'s gorgeous [y/h/c] hair or anything that would make his mind scream to him that she was there and he should talk to her. But not even a red, gold blond or almost-white blond from any of the girls to give him some kind of hope that the love of his life could be any close to him.

All he noticed was a jet black hair, just like his, being followed by two other long dark hair. Regulus, Bellatrix and Narcissa. "What?" Sirius muttered to himself under his breath as he saw three of his family members walking to the staircases that led to the Gryffindor common room but the exact opposite way to the Slytherin one, with narrowed eyes...

Sirius didn't need to read minds to know that something was wrong. Something was telling him that he should go after them, that nothing good could come from it. So he did.

Sirius' black boots were tapping the castle floors through the crowds of students as silently as he could to not be seen by his family relatives as he followed them at the corridors. He was feeling like one of the spies from the muggle movies [y/n] had showed him before while hiding behind people, pillars, trash cans and anything he could use to not be noticed.

And then, the trio suddenly turned on an empty corridor, almost filed with fully darkness and Sirius stopped on the right side of the entrance to the hall. Just as he looked at it, Sirius felt his eyes shine with the beautiful sight that [y/n] was to his eyes. She didn't need much to be stunning...

'Wait...' He's thoughts stopped on the second that the reality fell upon him. 'Why are my brother and cousins talking to my girlfr-, ex-girlfriend, on a empty hall? And why does she look so scared?'

"[y/l/n]..." Regulus said and stopped in front of her, blocking her way and the light vision Sirius had of her.

"Look, I did exactly what asked me to, ok? Just let me be..." She snapped back with a trembling and weak voice that made Sirius want to run and just hold her in his arms again.

"We know and I just came here to say that my mother would be thankful for your help... If you weren't a mudblood, you know." Regulus said and Sirius' forehead frowned with anger and confusion. 'My mother asking [y/n/n] for a favor?'

"I didn't do it because your mother asked me to, I just broke up with Sirius because you were up to hurt him if i didn't do it. So, shut up because I don't need your mother's 'thank you's or anything else that comes from her." [y/n] said while poking Regulus' chest. "You should bother someone else with your puppies."

[y/n] passed through them, hitting her shoulder with Regulus' left one and Sirius felt like there was a light bulb above his head being turned on. It all finally made sense, the way that [y/n] didn't want to break up with him, the way she was worried sick with him the whole week, the way she almost freaked out when she thought that the spell hit Sirius and not Peter... And it was all his family's fault.

Sirius didn't know what to do to fix this hugeous mess that was happening just under his nose, but he knew that he needed to take his family threats and intentions far from him and his love before he went to talk to her.

He silently thanked Godric Gryffindor when [y/n] went to the other side of the corridor and didn't notice him there, eavesdropping on their serious conversation. Sirius would take care of this talk with her later...

Just when Regulus started to walk out of the scary corridor, Sirius stopped in front of his little brother, that nervously gulped loudly with the sight of the last person who should hear about their mother's plan.

"You know I love you, Reg. And I know it's not your fault, but if I ever see you talk to [y/n] again, you'd wished you never listened to mother for once." Sirius said calmly. "And don't forget to tell her that there's no way I'm gonna let this girl go, I love her more than anything in this entire world and any of you will take her away from me."

Sirius turned around and walked away from a scared and disappointed - with himself - Regulus and ran to find the unique girl who could make him do those crazy things and don't regret anything after...

Sirius even felt himself starting to hit a few people while he tried to pass through the slow people walking around but he didn't bring himself to stop and care about them while he had to look for her as fast as he could. His heartbeat was in an almost impossible speed, his hands sweating and lightly trembling with anticipation, his mind running around the whole castle while his body was trying to follow his thoughts... Until he saw her.

His whole world froze and all he could see was [y/n] calmly walking to her next class, just like everyone else around her - who his eyes didn't bother to focus or pay attention to. All Sirius was seeing was [y/n].

And before he could notice his movements or think of what he would do when he got to her, his legs were bringing him the closer he could get to her. And, when he thought that the world wasn't moving already, Sirius felt everything else disappear when [y/n] turned around by his hand touching her shoulder.

[y/n] have never looked more gorgeous to him before...

Even with the sore eyelids, the dark bag under her eyes, her without-life skin, her pale lips, her tired eyes and the frown on her forehead when her eyes captured the sight of him... [y/n] couldn't be anymore gorgeous even if she wanted to.

"Sirius?" Her surprised and confused whisper fell upon dead ears as Sirius grabbed the sides of her face and glued his lips on hers.

They've done it so many times before, but after passing days thinking that they would never do it again, made it as special as the very first time, two years ago, in their fourth year.

[y/n] didn't kissed back in the first seconds, but she didn't pull away neither. [y/n] knew she shouldn't, actually, she couldn't do it, but she just couldn't bring herself to stop it and pull away from Sirius' touch. And in a few seconds, she felt her whole body melt onto the kiss as [y/n] finally kissed him back.

Sirius felt a wave of relief pass through his body as it was a shock while [y/n] felt all her organs burning from inside out. At that moment, neither of them knew how they survived the last three days, fifteen hours, forty-three minutes and six seconds without feeling each other's touch.

Sirius' hands fell from her face to her waist like there was the place they belonged to and [y/n]'s hands ran in the direction of his dark hair, getting lost in there like it was the maze she was used of going every single day.

When [y/n] felt her mind dizzy with one of the best kisses they ever shared, she separated her lips from his, but just enough for them to be felt almost touching, their foreheads touching and their hot breathes mixing.

"Sirius, wh-" [y/n] started, but before she could keep going, Sirius abruptly interrupted her.

"I know the truth." [y/n] could have opened her eyes wide as a fish if they weren't glued closed with tiredness. "And I don't care. They took a lot from me, but they're not taking you, just over my dead body..." Sirius said and took a breath to keep going. "I love you, I want you. I only care about you. I don't care about what they think is right for me, because it's you. Only you, [y/n]."

"I love you too, Siri." That was all that [y/n] could let out with a trembling voice but with the biggest certain that she ever had about anything in this world.

They needed each other and nothing would be on their way to happiness and love.

☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎

+ bonus: (Sirius' letter to his mother)

Dear Mother, hope you and father are going well, even if you don't care about me. I think you heard from someone (probably Reg) that your master plan wasn't so good and it didn't work out... I just wanted to say that I'm sorry if you think I'm ever going to stay away from [y/n]. I love her more than I've ever loved anything in this world and I don't care about her blood status - which just makes me love her more. I think you won't understand me because your marriage wasn't pretty much your choice, but all I'm asking you is to let her alone. Every single choice I've done until now were decided by me, and anyone else should take the consequences for it. If you ever have a problem with me, I don't want you to make Regulus do your dirty little job, I want for you to talk to me. Thank you for reading so far and I won't be coming home anymore, neither receiving any letters from you. So, enjoy this picture of me and my gorgeous girlfriend, being happy on a beautiful sunset, just the two of us. I love her and only her, hope someday you'll understand that she's an amazing woman and deserve all the happiness and love the world can give her. Goodbye, mother... Sincerely, Sirius Orion Black.

☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾

Taglist:

@cheapglitter @weasleysmuch @missmulti @writtenbypics @littlemaladaptivedaydreamer @dralf0yy @buff-bork @rd155 @seppys-return-to-madness @luciferedits @old-soul-young-mind @pxtrickhxckstettxr @sleep-i-ness @marauderswhisperer @liberty01 @gweaslvy @weasleytwins-41 @siriuslysirius07 @turtlepad @ilovewinter101 @monimillion @simonsbluee @smokey102 @aberette13 @yourbloodyqueen @loverboyreid @eeshea @susceptible-but-siriusexual @weareloserstogether

#Sirius Black #sirius black x reader #sirius black imagine #sirius black x you #sirius black x y/n #ben barnes #the marauders #the marauders era #marauders era #marauders fic #marauders x reader #sirius black headcanon #sirius black fluff #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black fic

319 notes · View notes

taetaespeaches · 4 years

Text

“The strings are attached already.”

namjoon x reader (or oc) genre: angst word count: 1.8K

a/n: Alright lovelies, all of Daisy’s contradicting actions and words has resulted in a frustrated Joon and it all comes to a head here. Poor babies :( this takes place about a week after Daisy meets the members. Thanks for reading and I hope you all enjoy! :))

NO matter how many times you told yourself you had to start putting distance between yourself and Namjoon, you always ended up back in his apartment. In his bed. Curled up against his warm frame, his strong arms wrapped around you as he held you close.

His snoring filled the room, comically mixing with your heavy thoughts. Namjoon was in this with you. Passionately, wholeheartedly.

How long could you keep doing this to him? You couldn’t keep stringing him along. It wasn’t fair to him. The sun was usually peeking through the window at that time of morning, casting his exposed chest in a warm glow. However, that morning, the sun was hidden behind an overcast sky.

Observing the rise and fall of his chest that corresponded with the obnoxious snores that you found to be adorable, you felt your tired eyes prick with tears. I can’t do this anymore.

Sitting up, as gently as you could as to not disturb him, your eyes pointed toward his still sleeping frame resting against the mattress. Your gaze dragged over his toned but perfectly soft midriff, his strong frame, those shoulders that would carry the weight of all your problems if you let them, and his heck that provided the perfect fit for your face. Appreciating his facial features, you painted them to memory, not wanting to ever forget a single detail. You didn’t want to forget a single aspect of Namjoon.

The alarm clock sounded suddenly, startling you as you looked toward his phone, watching as his hand blindly felt around for the device. Taking a deep breath to calm your emotions, Namjoon’s eyes fluttered open at the absence of your body pressed to his. When his puffy eyes met your own orbs, you quickly averted your gaze to the opposite side of the room, wiping the side of your face to rid your cheeks of the tears that had unknowingly fallen.

Observant as ever, Namjoon quickly sat up, placing a hand to your back as he tried to peer at your face. “What’s wrong?”

Me. Pushing the blankets off your legs, you shook your head. “Nothing, Joon,” you dismissed as you stood from the bed, quickly retrieving some clothes as Namjoon watched you in concern.

“Why are you crying?” He pressed. “What are you doing?” There was an edge of panic in his tone. The mood was off and he could sense it. And the tone in his voice furthered your belief that you needed to stop this. The man was living in constant uncertainty. It sounded as though he had been waiting for the phone call you didn’t answer, or the morning you got out of his bed and left, never coming back.

The truth was, you didn’t really intend not to return again. You knew you couldn’t stay away. You just knew something had to change. Maybe you needed to implement distance between the two of you so the extra feelings cold subside. These fucking feelings. They were real, and they were strong and sincere.

“It’s nothing,” you tried to assure him through your shaky voice. “I just need to head out, I have errands.”

“Ok, well, let me get ready real quick, I’ll walk you out,” he told you, rising from the bed as he watched you intently.

“No,” you shook your head as he pulled on some underwear, “that’s ok, you take your time.” Silently, he observed you as you hooked your bra, your back to him. He continued watching as you slid your jeans on, your head scanning the room. “Do you know where my shirt is?” You asked, turning around to face him, his expression nervous and worried.

“Uh,” he slowly realized he was staring at you. “I’m not sure,” he said as he glanced around the room. “You can wear one of mine.” The suggestion was sweet and you wanted nothing more than to accept the offer, but you couldn’t.

“That doesn’t change the fact that my shirt is missing somewhere in this room,” you pointed out, trying to avoid having to wrap your body in his scent because you knew you’d like that far too much.

Nodding slowly, he looked from the floor to his dresser and finally to you. “Right, well, if you would use the drawer I offered you then you could wear your own clothing until we find the missing shirt,” he told you, a bitter sadness finding its way into the words.

Staring at him, you choked back the sob that threatened to slip from your throat, blinking quickly to hold back any tears. You knew this frustration was within him, it was only a matter of time before it came out. Every bit of anger he threw your way was deserved, and you could take it. What you couldn’t handle was the sadness that was apparent in those same handsome features you studied so intentionally only a few minutes earlier.

That fucking drawer. The empty space serving as another symbol of your failure to commit. “Or we could just find my shirt,” you said quietly, though neither of you made a move to find the shirt or retrieve a new one.

Standing in his boxers, Namjoon ran a hand through his slept-on hair. “Why are you really leaving so early?” He was reaching a breaking point.

“I have things I need to get done,” you lied in defense, only to be met with a skeptical look.

“At 7 am?” He questioned, you sighing with a shrug. “Come on,” he threw his hands up before letting them hang down on his legs.

“What do you want me to say?” You asked him

“How about the truth?” He suggested in frustration. The truth. It was simple enough. I’m scared and I’m tired of hurting you.

Breaking eye contact with the man, you looked around the room again. “Where the fuck is my shirt?”

“Are you serious right now?” He asked in anger.

“What?” You asked dumbly.

“Why do you need to find the shirt right this second, are you not planning on coming back?” He asked, the man jutting his jaw out as his adam’s apple bobbed against his neck.

Holding back your own tears at the sight of him you exhaled slowly, the breath shaky as your bottom lip quivered. “I am,” you whispered.

“I need to know what’s happening,” he told you firmly, causing you to shrug at him. “God, you confuse me,” he admitted for the first time, your guilt stabbing your heart at the way his pain laced his tone. “And I like you so fucking much, but falling for you hurts because I don’t know if you’re with me in this.”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice barely audible before you cleared your throat. “I didn’t plan on all of this,” you gestured between the both of you.

“I didn’t plan on this either but it’s happened, it’s- it’s happening,” he pointed out to you. “And I don’t want to let you go.” At his admission, his voice cracked just slightly, causing a sob to leave your lips.

“You don’t have to let me go,” you defended through your forming tears. “Why can’t we just do this without strings attached?”

“The strings are attached already,” he told you bluntly. “They have been from the start.” You knew he was right, but why was it still so hard for you to accept?

“I-” You shook your head, not sure what to say because you knew any negation of strings or feelings would be a lie, and he’d see through it immediately.

“Stop hiding behind this shield of feigned indifference,” he told you. “I know you care. We do all the things the other guys do with their girlfriends. You visit me in the studio, you sleep over, we’ve gone on dates, we text all day, you’re the first person I want to tell about my day-”

“Why does all of this matter?” You asked, fully aware of the idiocy you were putting on display.

“Well, what’s wrong with m- why won’t you let me call you mine?” The question had a sense of desperation to it. As if he trying to figure out what was holding you back from something that he knew would make him happy and believed would make you happy as well.

“Why does a label matter so much?” You asked the man, staring into his wide eyes from across the bed.

“I don’t know,” he said with a defeated shrug. “It just does. Or maybe it doesn’t, I don’t fucking know.”

“We have a good thing going, why ruin it?” You asked, Namjoon breaking eye contact with you as he directed his gaze toward the floor. You watched him carefully as he nodded to himself, walking to his closet to pull out a shirt.

With a sigh, you sat on the edge of the bed, your hand neatly tucked against your thighs as he got dressed for his day.

“Ruin?” He suddenly spoke, breaking the tense silence. “Being my girlfriend would ruin things?”

Shaking your head, you felt the tears gathering along your bottom lash line. “That’s not what I meant,” you breathed out shakily.

“I don’t know why a label matters,” he admitted honestly. “I just know that I like you a lot and I want only you, and I want to be together, and sometimes I think you want that too,” he paused for a moment, looking into the closet to avoid your gaze. “But you give me so many mixed signals and I’m confused and I’m tired of you holding yourself back from me,” he finished.

“Joon,” you spoke, not sure what to say. Your inner supposed logic reminding you that you’d just lose him eventually was conflicting with your heart, which was urging you to get up and wrap your arms around him and tell him how badly you wanted him too.

Fully dressed, he turned to look at you, eyes glistening as he shamelessly bared his emotions to you. He was showing you himself. Unfiltered and true.

And it was seeing the visible effects of his frustration and disappointment that pushed you over that edge that you’d been balancing on for the past couple months. You had to stop doing this to him.

Approaching you, he held out one of his t-shirts for you. “I like you. And I think I could love you,” he told you, and when you didn’t take the shirt, he set it on the bed next to you. “If you would just let me.”

Turning his back on you, he made his way to the bedroom door. “I have to get to work,” he said without looking at you. “If you want to do this with me, then please,” he started, his voice breaking, causing you to flinch as you stood, nearly taking a step toward him but freezing in place. “Please just- be here when I get back.”

As he moved through the door frame, he stalled, looking back at you to see you standing defeated in nothing but your jeans and a bra. “Stop lying to yourself.” And with that, he left the room, his footsteps leading him all the way to the front door where he left without another word.

345 notes · View notes

doorsclosingslowly · 3 years

Text

Hell is just a beat away (4/9)

Despite early promise, young Maul has turned out to be a disappointment, willfully delaying his training with secret attempts to make himself friends from scrap metal. He must be properly motivated, and so Darth Sidious sends him to a slave market on an impossible mission. It backfires. Star Wars: Darth Maul (2017) comic AU | 4.9k | warning for slavery, sexual assault of a teenager (non-graphic), body horror (implanted bombs)

Closedown

“Jedi. Move.” Maul bites his lip before the please slips out, and he is grateful for the mask that hides that sign of his pathetic inexperience. Master wouldn’t have been tempted to say please. Master wouldn’t have been this nervous, either.

Master would have felt at home in this place. He would have charmed everyone.

Luckily, the padawan obediently speeds up a bit when he tugs the heavy chain running from her manacles to a loop in his belt. She even bumps into Maul at times, each kick and jostle a fleeting rush of connection. It makes him flinch. It makes him angry. After the first accidental touch, she mumbled an apology at least and stayed out of his space for a few seconds, but with each time he recoils from unfamiliar sensation the fear she’s broadcasting abates. She keeps jostling him. She looms. She’s more than a head taller than him, and the length of her legs means each of her strides—unfairly—cover more ground than Maul’s, unless Maul starts jogging, and then he’ll really look like he is in a hurry to get away from the slaver palace. Which he is, admittedly. He is very eager to complete this mission. That’s all. But he is also too clever to let anyone see.

He is almost tempted to inquire about her lightsaber, because finding and corrupting a Jedi lightsaber on top of his mission would surely impress his Master, but… As great as the opportunity is, the air here is too putrid.

It’s hot enough in the bursting-full domed giant room to make him sweat-sticky and lightheaded by now, under his vocoder-holding jaw-mask that lets in too little air and the heavy shirts and the sunglasses that threaten to slip off his nose and need to be pushed back too often, but he cannot take anything off. He would rather faint than be looked at. He needs the insulation. Being touched without layers and layers of fabric would be—and anyway, in here, in this palace, he cannot be seen for what he is. Every bob and ebb of the force against his mind screams it. He remembers the zabrak. He cannot be seen, even though he doesn’t quite understand why his species should matter beyond the deep-hidden loneliness of being unmirrored.

There is something crawling in the air, something foul, and it’s not the fact that he is in the company of a Jedi. She’s terrified, anyway, as she should be—though not yet because of him, sticking far too close-by—and that does not make him uneasy. It doesn’t. He’s meant to bask in his enemy’s fear. He’ll bask in it soon, he promises himself.

As soon as they’re out of here.

The bright light and loud peripheral awful conversations mingle with the gross aftertaste of last night’s stupid drinks. The air is thin. Maul’s head pounds.

The crowd has swollen in the short time he fetched the padawan. To get to the exit he must pass through a fleshy mass that covers every single tile on the expansive floor. And once he steps forward—all around him, hands waving tiny bites of food. Maul’s entrails squirm. Delicate glass flutes of ill-smelling fluid, too, held loosely against bellies covered in diamond-encrusted dresses and crisp suits. Everything is too close and much too tall for him to see any face, even if he wanted to. He doesn’t even crane his neck to try. He doesn’t need faces to know that he hates them. Carefully, he weaves through the thick crowd of giants, or normal-sized people anyway, because without stilts he is the strange one in here; the crowd of expensively-dressed adults who are standing around and chatting idly and looking at the other people. The many new people standing rigid and being touched. The people who are on sale. Just like the pretend-fighter zabrak. There is no honor here; no fair battle, no chance of freedom, no death and no glory, only handcuffs and guards bearing shock-prongs to keep one side from grabbing for victory or power or strength or even passion. From doing anything at all. The slavers are looking at the padawan, too, eyeing her hungrily but not approaching, and she shudders and bumps into Maul again.

He hurries. A tug in his belly tells him: he must get out now, or have his life irreparably changed. He must escape.

Maul’s eyes dart around, in search for the least peopled path to the exit, and then they get stuck.

The zabrak’s still here.

He hasn’t even moved, or just barely. Maul remembers his posture from before, even though he shouldn’t. Even though he thought so desperately that he immediately forgot. He remembers the cold swirling around him, refreshing and hard. He shouldn’t have cared enough to remember. He shouldn’t even have noticed him back then. It’s irrelevant to the mission, after all. Superfluous. It’s only a zabrak slave. (It’s only the one other person in the entire galaxy who is like Maul.) Maul remembers him, remembers filling up at the sight of his yellow-black swirled face and his dead eyes with judgment and joy, guilt-ridden and furtive and bright. It’s the exact same stance. Legs a shoulder-width apart, arms raised, face downturned as if he wasn’t there. As if he was a shut-off droid.

The same empty expression, even though a human woman is currently touching his biceps. The woman is new. She must be looking to buy him.

Maul approaches them slowly, only distantly aware that the padawan is dragging her feet in confusion. With every step, the feelings that draw him get stronger: there is still no expression on the big zabrak’s face, but he hates the woman. There’s no cold in the area anymore. No ice shales of controlled aversion. Instead, the force around him is a sea of boiling anger and disgust. (It’s not contempt—and why does Maul so desperately want it to be contempt—it’s not, but something eerily familiar and hidden deep deep inside: it’s the hatred that comes when you are small and cannot leave. It makes no sense. The zabrak isn’t small, just as Maul has grown so much that he moved on to better, stronger loathings, and he can almost pretend he doesn’t remember it.)

The force around him is a bottomless well of the dark side, and the other zabrak is strong in the force. Maul’s hearts pitter quickly. He’s not just a zabrak. He’s a darksider! He’s like me!

It’s incredible, beyond inexcusable, that Maul overlooked such a foundational trait when he looked at the zabrak before. A darksider, and Maul was preoccupied with judging his stance and his grooming!

There is confusion, but it doesn’t douse the excitement. It’s hard for Maul to keep up his nonchalantly slow speed. Thoughts cartwheel inside his brain: Why does the zabrak just stand there? Why pretend to be a fake fighter? He’s force-sensitive. He could kill them all. Cold, heat: they are his emotions leaking into the living force, reshaping it, perverting it, strong enough to be picked up from many meters away. He’s a darksider. He’s powerful. He could have killed them all hours ago. He controlled himself, though. Is he, too, on a mission? What kind of mission would be this humiliating? Why is he posing as a slave? Why doesn’t he fight? He should fight. Chains and electric shock wouldn’t be enough to keep Maul down. The zabrak is like Maul. He’s like Maul. He’s… Did he come to take the padawan? The one Master wants? Will I have to fight him? That’s... a thrilling idea. A tiny bit worrying, too. The zabrak is very tall. As incredible a fighter as Maul is, he might not be able to take him down. The zabrak is a darksider. His useless appearance is only pretense. He’ll… I won’t win quickly, Maul corrects himself. I am Darth Maul. I am the apprentice of Lord Sidious. I won’t be able to take him down quickly. I’ll win, eventually, but it’ll be an impressive fight.

Is he another Sith? No, there are only two, but… there was a whole Sith Empire once, Master said, when he took Maul to the ruins and the ghosts. Maybe the Jedi did not kill all of Maul’s people but one; maybe, another branch has survived. Or maybe—Maul’s read of acolytes. Of Masters taking more than one than one apprentice. He doesn’t really believe that Lord Sidious would betray him like that, and if he did… why did he not tell me about the other zabrak? Maul would have loved to meet another zabrak, even if he was competition. Maul has always been so alone.

Master would have told him. He would, at least, have wanted to witness Maul’s pain at being replaced, and his subsequent death. He would have wanted to laugh at Maul. It can’t be that.

Maybe… maybe the zabrak is untrained. Undiscovered. Unclaimed by a Master.

Maybe Maul was meant to find him.

This mission was too easy. Lord Sidious sent Maul to find a Jedi padawan for him, but He has hidden meanings in all He does. Maybe that was only a pretext. Or… is it possible that… that Lord Sidious Himself was led by the force, to send Maul here today, where he could discover this other zabrak who is strong in the dark side? Maul’s hearts claw against his ribcage, trying to fight their way out with excitement. He has felt the force pushing and flowing and tugging at him for years, but this is so much bigger.

This is destiny.

Maul was meant to find him.

It makes sense. It makes so much sense. Why else would there just happen to be another zabrak in this room, where Maul can see him? Another person just like Maul? A potential apprentice?

Now that he’s decided the zabrak is probably not a trained Sith, he can taste the truth of it in the other’s force presence. Anger, but unharnessed. Helpless. Impotent.

Ready to be stoked.

(Nonsense, another voice argues. Stop now. This is just a coincidence. Master will be so angry if you—and then Maul cuts it off. He already knows the conclusion he wants. It’s only a matter of thinking the right thoughts to get there. He refuses to get side-tracked.)

Maul was meant to find this zabrak. They were meant to meet.

Just one more look. I’ll get up close, but I just want one more look.This is just a dream. He can convince himself he just wants to look at the other zabrak, one more look before he is alone in the galaxy again, bargaining with his shivering sense of self-preservation, because deep in Maul’s galloping hearts he knows that this is the jump off a cliff-edge. He isn’t dreaming. He’s moving. Acting. He’s making the mistake he refused to know he would, the second he saw that face. He’s contravening orders, even if they’re orders his Master hasn’t spoken aloud. Why would He? He never expected this to happen. Master never expected Maul to want to talk to anyone here on Nar Shaddaa. He never expected anything but success. Anything but utter devotion. He especially never expected Maul to want to bring anyone from this slave market, apart from the padawan He sent off for. He doesn’t know Maul has thoughts like that. He doesn’t know the dreams. Master wants Maul to be alone. He has always forced Maul to be alone.

But the force sent Maul to this zabrak.

Just one look. That’s all it is. That’s safe, right?

He mustn’t draw anyone’s attention, though. Slowly, he walks closer. He drags his feet against the floor, even though they want to fly.

Just one more look—and then what?Now that he’s allowed himself to come again within mere meters of the zabrak who is the only other person in the entire galaxy who is like Maul and nothing immediately disastrous has happened, it feels insufficient. Just one look will never be enough. Maul is greedy, and out here disobedience hurts less than he expected. It’s even… exhilarating. He is in freefall, and the air is rushing against his skin. He is weightless. He is not alone anymore. He looks at the zabrak—what’s his name? will he be surprised? will he like me?—and for the first time, he can see a future that isn’t just longing. He doesn’t want it to stop.

I could take him with me. That’s what he’s here for. What the force wants. He would follow me then, Maul thinks giddily. It’s only a dream, he knows, but it’s warm and new and hope. Maul wraps himself deep inside. He’d stay and be grateful and I’d teach him everything I know. I wouldn’t even lock him up in the training complex, or if I did—I’d be there too. He wouldn’t be alone. I would give him everything I have, and he would help me. I would…

How much does a slave cost, anyway?

The zabrak is strong in the force. He’s like Maul, like someone who Lord Sidious himself chose to carry the legacy of the Sith. He must be incredibly expensive.

It doesn’t really matter, Maul decides. It’s like when he had to slice the computer in order to make everyone think he bought the padawan. He doesn’t have any credits. The stolen ones are spent, and Master never gave him any money.

That was because Lord Sidious wanted to test Maul, just as He wanted to test Maul by sending him to the wrong location. It’s why he told Maul the wrong date, too. So many tests, and Maul proved his worth. He failed none of them.

He didn’t fail yet.

Ice pools inside Maul’s veins. Is this zabrak another test? Will Master know? Will he be angry if—and then Maul bites his cheek until there is blood and the voice shuts up. Maul just wants to look at the zabrak. He wants to stay inside the dream for a little longer. That’s all it is. That’s safe. He will not get distracted. (He’ll be alone again soon.)

I could take him with me.

Maul doesn’t have any money. He could repeat the computer trick, though. Quickly sneak into the server room.

(Is this a test?)

He could just steal credits from the well-dressed buyers standing around.

(Is this—focus.)

Maul could just wait until the human woman buys the zabrak and leaves with him, or someone else does. He could follow them. He could challenge her. She doesn’t look like she has many blasters or an entourage of bodyguards, and even if she does… Maul is a Sith. He is powerful. He is fast. He is deadly. He—

A shudder. This is a test. It must be.

The zabrak is here in this room where Maul can see him. He is here in the place that Master sent Maul to, or didn’t, but that was just a test. Master must have known he would be here. Master must have wanted him to be here. There’s only one reason why he’d want that.

What Master is looking to ascertain here, Maul doesn’t know. Arrogance to weed out, maybe. Temptation. Obedience. The joy of dangling the one thing Maul’s always wanted in his face. But it must be a test. Master knows everything. Master has to have planned it.

Maul must leave. He must leave now. He really, really should, if he wants to survive. He should turn back. Master knows everything. Master would kill him for—

No don’t not this please not again don’t don’t—

Wet oil on Maul’s skin. Inside his mouth it wells and flows into his nose and he tries to sick it up until it dribbles down to the floor but—

Don’t please—

The air, sucked out of the room. No oxygen, not anymore, only a wave of revulsion and boneless terror to replace it, completely unexpected and so physical it almost makes Maul fall over. It makes him retch and gasp. Something stings his cheek. A slap, and he goes rigid. He isn’t allowed to hide from punishment. He waits, but the next hit doesn’t come.

Slowly, eventually, he rubs the burning spot. He tries to, anyway: his glove catches on the thick mask and bumps the sunglasses. His face is covered. He is far from Mustafar. He is safe.

He blinks furiously to make the black streaks in his eyes go away.

Then, he looks up. Back at the zabrak.

He sees: the human woman buyer is between them now, reaching up. She has moved on from the arms to touching the zabrak’s muscular bare shiny stomach. She’s lingering on it.

The zabrak is breathing heavily now, like Maul is; he’s retreated a single step backwards and is looking straight ahead and there is no air and then the slave seller is gripping a horn and forcing his head down and his back into a hunch and then the woman touches the face too and the mouth opens obediently and Maul’s skin crawls and everything feels too tight, a thousand times worse than it did when the man in the convenience store looked at him, even though it’s only secondhand.

Probably.

It must be only secondhand, he decides once he’s caught his bearing again. Once he’s turned oil slick and hyperventilation and panic back into anger, the way he was taught. Into power.

It feels like it’s everywhere, like it’s his, the terror and humiliation, but that must be because the zabrak is very strong in the force. Maul’s not the one being touched. He’s not even afraidof being touched. It’s the opposite. He lives on an empty base, and at night he often wishes he had a pet to cuddle close to, or someone to hold his hand. Useless dreams.

She does something to the zabrak then that Maul cannot see, and the force whimpers. Maul tastes bile.

“You will give me the zabrak,” he shouts, putting all his Will into it. He doesn’t think about what he’s doing. He doesn’t remember the order about staying hidden, about under no circumstances using the force. He doesn’t remember his Master’s laughter. He doesn’t remember punishment. This is not the time to think. Maul feels sick and like he wants to cry—can’t, Master will hurt me—and he needs everything to stop. Taking the zabrak away from here will stop it.

He feels the truth of it: the zabrak will be safewhen Maul’s taken him away. He will not be afraid anymore. That’s the only thing that matters.

“I will give you the zabrak,” the woman says, caught in the mind trick.

“I will give you the zabrak,” promises a gamorrean waiter.

“I will give you the zabrak,” chorus three muuns holding champagne flutes a few meters away, and Maul’s probably overdone it. He couldn’t help it: he is filled with fear and disgust and compassion, and the dark side eats it greedily. Right now, he could move mountains. He could smother all these minds, wrapped up and subdued by his Will, and he wants to. He hates them all. He wants to stop the connection, to stop touching them, wants their slimy thoughts and their pleasures gone. He can’t, though. He started this, and he needs to see it through. He needs to save the zabrak.

More people join in, a discordant canon of blank-voiced slavers, and those who don’t because they were too far away to be caught in the mind trick turn their heads curiously.

The zabrak himself doesn’t say anything, or even look at Maul. Being force-sensitive, he is not bespelled, and the only reaction is a slight up-flicker of his eyes. A different flavor of fear in the force, but just as strong. It hurts.

Why is he still afraid? Why doesn’t he like me? Maul was so happy to see another zabrak.

Then, Maul sucks in stale air through the mask and remembers: he’s in disguise. The zabrak cannot actually know that it’s Maul who has saved him. This is not a rejection. For a second, Maul wants to reassure him, but then he catches a glimpse of an advertisement poster that hangs behind them—twi’leks! wookiees! zabraks! freshly caught or gently used—and shivers deeply into the heavy layers of his cloaks.

“I will give you the zabrak,” says the human man who owns the zabrak, finally. Mercifully, he does not appraise his assets again. He rummages around in a suitcase for seconds that feel too long and pulls out a small datapad and two remotes. Proffering the switched-on pad, he says, face still distant, “This contains a list of his past owners, and a buyer’s contract, which I have presently called up. Please read carefully and then sign—”

“You see that I have signed,” Maul says. Then, in case it’ll help, he parrots phrases he’s heard other slave buyers use. “You know I have paid in full. Take my business card. Everything’s in order. Congratulations on a great first quarter at the stock exchange. How is your wife? Have you tried the salmon sliders? Pleasure doing business with you.”

“I see that you have signed,” the slaver replies. “I know you have paid in full. I take your business card. Everything is… in order?” He blinks. “Yes, it is. His name is Savage, by the way.” He pats the zabrak’s slack face and smirks, as if he just made a funny joke and wants Maul to join in, but Maul doesn’t understand. It’s a good name.

Savage. That’s not a name like the ones the people who owned the ships had. It’s better. It’s like the names Maul gives his droids. It’s like Maul’s name.

The force led Maul to this zabrak.

And Maul shall free him.

“Don’t lose these remotes,” the slaver adds. “This one contains a proximity sensor. The safe radius for your slave is one hundred meters. The datapad will let you change the settings as needed, though. To protect your investment, we have placed four explosive charges within your zabrak, set to go off at staggered distances. The first one will slow him down if he runs. It will not mar the looks. Merely very painful. The replacement charge only costs a few thousand credits, so if you want to test it… The next one will tear off a leg, although to prevent bleed-out we have placed blood-clotting agents inside. The slaves we sell are well-trained, so this is merely a—”

“Shut up,” Maul whimpers. Mumbles. Begs, and the faithful vocoder turns it into an order.

“I will shut up.”

Maul stuffs the datapad and the horrible remotes into his satchel, and then he tries to find something to say that will sound completely normal to the slavers who are watching them curiously, while also saying to the zabrak, don’t worry and I am totally prepared for this it wasn’t an accident and I didn’t know I wasn’t alone in the whole universe and, hoarse-voiced and small,please like me. That will say, join me, apprentice. That will impress the full glory of the promise of the Sith. He fails. What comes out is, “Hello. I am Darth Maul. We will leave now.”

The zabrak doesn’t move.

That’s… not good. Maybe he’s deaf. He is old, after all—he is so tall—and Maul’s read that old people lose their hearing and that sounds plausible even if his Master shows no sign of it at all. Maybe the zabrak does hate Maul. Maybe he’s paralyzed with fear. Maybe he’s just taking a chance on petty disobedience again, the way Maul learned long ago accomplishes nothing but pain. It’s not unreasonable to suspect that the zabrak doesn’t know that yet though. He doesn’t have a teacher like Lord Sidious, after all. He won’t be able to control or harness his panic.

In any case, the why doesn’t matter as much as the ways to work around it. The zabrak is safe now. He’ll get away from here. Maul will take him away, needs to drag him out, and they really need to get going now.

The people who weren’t mind-tricked are approaching curiously. They are building an impenetrable circle.

Maul walks up to the zabrak—to his new friend, his future apprentice, to his dream, not-dream, angry and shuddering and real. To Savage. He’s even more massive up close, Maul’s head at the same height as the elbows, and Maul reaches up to take his hand. It dwarfs Maul’s own so much he can only get a good strong grip on two fingers. He imagines, though he can’t really feel it through his gloves, that they are very warm and soft. The small startled jerk, though, he feels even through leather, and he rubs his thumb against the index finger in what he hopes is a gentle, reassuring way.

Savage is very tall and old, but it’s probably at least slightly understandable, maybe, that he is scared. He will learn better, once he knows of the path of the Sith. To be honest—and it hurts, to admit to his failure even in the confines of his own head—to be honest, Maul might be scared too, if he was made to stand around and be looked at and touched like a thing, with bombs put inside his body. Not allowed to fight. No honor or death or glory. Maul doesn’t have bombs in him and he is a Sith apprentice, is much more powerful than all these slavers, and still, he is very, very nervous.

I am Darth Maul, Maul reminds himself, and then he notices he’s forgotten again. Not his title yet. I will be Darth Maul. I’m not afraid. I am fear. Lord Sidious himself chose Maul to succeed Him, to aid in bringing down the entire Order of the Jedi, and this dressed-up gaggle of slavers is nothing. They don’t even have the force guiding them. Maul is so much better than them. He has been training, alone, for so many years.

He will be strong now. He will prove his worth as an apprentice. He will concentrate. He is Sith.

The slavers won’t touch him. He will get out alive.

He will get himself, and Savage, and the padawan too out of here alive.

Alive.

He repeats it with every shaking breath, with every tremble of his hand: alive, alive, alive. They’ll make it. He is strong. Master wouldn’t have sent Maul if He hadn’t known that—

Master. They won’t survive.Maul shudders. Alive? They’ll live for a few weeks, if they’re lucky. A day and twenty hours is realistic. That’s how long the journey to Mustafar takes. That’s all they have.

They’ll live, until Master sees.

This was a mistake. Maul was distracted by the emotions floating in the force, he let himself be distracted—he wanted it—and he made a terrible mistake. This was a test. One of Master’s tricks. The yellow zabrak was a test, and Maul chose wrong, and it’s too late to stop now.

Maul used the force—he risked discovery, he disobeyed—and it won’t matter now whether he brings the zabrak with him or not. He can’t do anything to hide his failure. Not even killing—no—not even killing the zabrak will hide Maul’s actions. Master knows everything. Sometimes it feels like he is in Maul’s head, which he can’t be, because Maul still has dreams and Maul still lives, but it doesn’t matter. Maul will tell Him. One way or the other, Maul will tell Him. Master might only punish Maul, because Maul’s succeeded in finding the padawan after all. Maybe. Hopefully.

But Savage… Savage is superfluous. Master already has an apprentice. He already owns Maul.

Master will be so angry.

Thinking won’t help, Maul knows that. He’s never found any way to think his way out of punishment. Master is too wise. Maul’s already disobeyed. He was stupid and rash and he failed. Once, twice… it doesn’t matter. The lightning will bite the same. He will be punished. Savage will die. (Maul will be alone again.) Or Maul will, Maul who disobeyed and brought his Master another force-sensitive zabrak, another possible apprentice, one who is old and tall and hates and is probably much better than Maul. There is no way out. There is no way but forward. No way but Mustafar.

“We need to go. Please,” Maul whispers.

Finally, Savage allows himself to be tugged towards the exit.

⁂

Eldra puts one foot before the other, but that’s all she is capable of still. Walking. Looking calm. Biting her lip to keep from crying. Following the short black-cloaked being who bought her, and the zabrak they bought too. Shivering self-disgust for the way she clung to them, before; the way she hoped it might be all-right. The walls fall away, and soon the slaver palace is out of sight. No consolation. Nothing is, anymore. Not since the title the slaver revealed, talking to the zabrak with incongruous tenderness. The title that confirmed what she knew the moment of the mind trick. Nothing since the slaver had touched the force.

There is nothing left in her but movement and terror.

“You will give me the zabrak,” Eldra’s slaver had ordered, throwing off all shielding, and in the force she had felt, faintly and distant but unmistakable: corruption. Sickness.

Sith.

#darth maul #savage opress #savage oppress #eldra kaitis #dimtraces makes things #hell is just a beat away

7 notes · View notes

incidentreport31 · 3 years

Text

Episode One: In the Middle of the Street TRANSCRIPT

[You can listen to the show wherever you get your podcasts.]

[Intro music players.]

ANNOUNCER:

Three-Eyed Frog Presents: Incident Report Number 31.

[Theme song fades to a stop.]

[click recorder on]

ARCHIVIST:

Test. Test. One, two, three. (mutters) Bloody hell, why does it smell like something died in here? Well, guess we can’t prove something didn’t, eh? The recorder seems to be working, at least.

My name is Val West. I’m the newly appointed head archivist at The [REDACTED] Institute, which documents people’s possible experiences with the supernatural for both emotional support purposes and to get recovery time off of work, school, et cetera if the trauma is deemed severe enough by their employers or other supervisory staff.[beat as they scoff] Supernatural doctor’s note, innit...

The Head of the Institute, Mr. Neil Banks, has asked me to record these accounts because, well, there actually isn’t really a good reason. [mutters] Didn’t spend eight years getting a masters in library sciences to read stories into a dusty tape recorder, but, we all have to get by.

I do, at least, have people to assist me: two researchers: Zach Zamuel-Imogen Baker, and Christine Lewis, along with, I’m told, a very well-respected psychologist: one [hesitant] Dr. Oliver Possum, who will be advising me on any cases where there is necessary psychological follow up. I haven’t actually met any of them yet, but hopefully they will be helpful.

I was also explicitly told not to look behind the bookshelf to my left, so I will be looking behind the bookshelf later today...right. Guess I should get started, then.

[Sound of papers tapped on desk to organize them]

ARCHIVIST:

[They clear their throat.] For the consideration of Ortolan Bunting Law Firm: Ayla Stephenson’s encounter with a house that did not exist and her subsequent request for thirty hours of paid time off. No date given. Fine by me. Not gonna lose sleep over improperly filled out paperwork. Well. Start? I suppose? Yes.

[ACCOUNT.]

I feel the need to start with this, so you fully understand what I’m trying to say. I have a feeling you’ll just dismiss my story otherwise. I’ve lived here going on ten years now. Moved here on the promise of a job from the same company that I still work for today: Ortolan Bunting Law Firm. I drive the same route to work every day. I mean, I looked up the quickest way on the map when I first moved to town, and hey, who am I to question that? If it works it works. No need to make something difficult when the map’ll just figure it for you that first day, right?

I guess I’m getting a bit off topic here, but my point is that I’ve been going the same way for a decade, which is to say that I know the route to and from work like the back of my hand. Sure, maybe I don’t pay attention to every detail every day, I mean after ten years, the drive is almost an unconscious thing-

ARCHIVIST:

(mutters) Not a great way to build up your story’s credibility but, I digress.

[ACCOUNT.]

-but I still know all the road’s quirks, even if they don’t stick out to me after all this time. I know that the first left turn light on the way lasts for about two seconds and if you’re more than two cars behind in line, you’ll have to wait a whole cycle to go. I know there’s a business center that, god knows why, has their logo done in comic sans just off to the right before I merge onto the highway. Once I’m on that freeway for about fifteen minutes, I can see this drive through coffee place on one of the adjacent streets. Every single morning the line’s backed up out to the street- you’d think there’d be a better way to do that, but that’s more of a personal gripe and certainly not the point. On my way back from work, I take a few side streets to avoid rush hour traffic on the main road- just the way the map recommended on my first day, of course, I’m not looking to get lost in the backroads. There’s a few old houses, sometimes I see elderly couples sitting out on their porches. Sometimes they wave and I do have the decency to wave back, though some of my colleagues might not believe you… I’m afraid I’ve been a bit put off by this whole experience and have been taking it out on some of my coworkers. All the more reason to give me the [THE ARCHIVIST sighs this last part out as they are once again pulled out of the story] time off that I so kindly requested.

ARCHIVIST:

That last line is crossed out. It appears that Ms. Stephenson was reluctant for her Firm to read that bit if this ever got back around to them. To be honest, the way that this is going, I’m not so sure that plea would have done anything for her, but I am, of course, to remain the impartial academic in my work here, so I suppose I’ll allow the defacing of Institute paperwork just this once, even if the scribbles are rather unprofessional.

[ACCOUNT.]

There're a few empty lots there too. I think at one point, the city wanted to buy them up and make a park, but I don’t think they ever got around to it. Really don’t think they will now. I’m getting ahead of myself. I guess what I’m trying to say is, I’ve been going the same way day in and day out for ten years… I’d notice if something was different.

ARCHIVIST:

I’m assuming… that is the point of this report yes? [beat] Continuing on.

[ACCOUNT.]

Nothing that day was really any different, I’d say. Just drove to work, hit all the usual landmarks: waiting to turn at the light, glancing at the comic sans sign, thinking that that coffee shop is definitely obstructing traffic, the usual. Went to work, got through the day with… minor amounts of stress… I mean it’s legal work, it isn’t fun, but somebody’s gotta do it. Got off right at five, gathered up my things and left. I took my usual streets, not really minding anything, but I noticed no one was out on the porches. That’s not unusual, I know, people can be inconsistent, it’s not a big deal, but looking back? Maybe they knew something was off… I mean if I’d lived in that neighborhood I certainly would have.

[Eerie music begins playing.]

I always drive with the radio on, can’t stand being alone with my thoughts on a busy street where road rage can make its way into my thoughts. Guess I should’ve mentioned that earlier, huh? Either way it seems important that I say it’s part of my daily life. I do it every day, and I’ve never had a problem with reception in that area, so when the sound started to glitch out, I thought something was wrong with my car. It was frustrating, sure, but not a big deal, even if I don’t necessarily enjoy the sound of static more than the average person.

I went through the usual useless attempts to fix it, of course. Smacked it a few times, turned it off and on again, but nothing changed. In the end, I just turned it off as I kept driving. Figured my own thoughts were better than the white noise that faded in and out of my speaker at an unpredictable volume. Things were fine for a few minutes. I’d almost gotten to the end of the street when I realized something wasn’t quite right.

At first, I thought maybe the light was just reflecting into my eyes weird. Maybe I’d just seen something out of the corner of my eye that there was a fine explanation for. Because… I knew this road. And there had never been a house there before. I was sure of it. A whole house isn’t something that could go up in a night, but you know that, you aren’t an idiot.

[Record scratch, cutting the music off.]

ARCHIVIST:

[pretentious bastard] I’d certainly like to think so, yes.

[ACCOUNT.]

But there it was. It wasn’t right next to the other houses, a few lots down the road instead. Other than my knowledge that it wasn’t there before, though, it could have blended into the neighborhood without anyone noticing.All things considered, it was a pretty nice house. Sure, it was done up in that fancy Victorian style and therefore inherently a little unnerving, you know how those old places just seem a little haunted even if they’re perfectly put together?

Still, beyond that, it was fine. Not broken down in that sort of creepy ghost way that you see in movies, or anything. The paint was pretty well done, only a little aged from the sun, and all the wood on the wrap-around porch was together. I mean if I was building a murder house, I would’ve splintered the boards and peeled up the exterior wall a bit, something along those lines, you know? It looked like someone could have been living out of it. Totally normal.

I know what you’re thinking, that I got out and had a look, but I can’t say I did. As the sun was going down? While I was all of a sudden unsure of my own thoughts? Really? No way in hell. I’m not an idiot either. So I kept driving. As I passed by, I got this strange feeling… like I wasn’t alone on the street. I don’t know if I imagined it or not, but with how much I was already questioning what I knew, I wasn’t sure I wanted the answer, and I sped away, not wanting to stick around any longer than I had to. Now, when I got home, I went through stages of denial before realizing that, hey, it wasn’t my damn neighborhood, and therefore not actually a problem that I would have to deal with.

At least until I was driving back from work the next afternoon. Funny how that works… your problems don’t just disappear because you’ve chosen to ignore them. Although ignore is a strong word considering I spent all day at work worrying about whether or not I should trust myself and whether or not I would see the house again when I drove home… I could’ve gone another route, of course. Could’ve gone even one street over and left it at that.

But that isn’t how it works, is it? I was so unsure of my own thoughts that I’d rather put myself in a situation that seemed potentially harmful than not know if I was wrong or not. [beat] So I went down the same route, just like I’d been conditioned to for the last decade. Once again, the couples were inside. They had to know something was wrong, I mean I was able to realize the house shouldn’t have been there and I didn’t even live in the neighborhood. I slowed my car to a snail’s pace as I inspected all about the street that I could. Not really sure what I was looking for if I’m being honest, but when I got to the house, I’d convinced myself that, yes, in fact, it was as real as the rest of the places on the block.

I don’t think it was really a conscious decision when I stopped the car. I’d just been going so slow already and… well I’d reached my target, hadn’t I? I sat and gazed over the house for a few moments. Looking over the perfect condition it seemed to be in, to no avail. It seemed to be perfectly normal. Maybe… Maybe I was really just in my head about all of this. Was it really that hard to believe? I should’ve just left, stopped staring at this place. Sitting there wasn’t going to change the fact that it was there, whether or not I could really trust my mind.

But… then I saw the curtains in the front window move. I snapped my gaze over to where I’d seen the motion and there was a little boy staring at me through the glass. He looked off to something behind the curtain before looking back over and waving, grinning a gap toothed smile at me. I... Well I wasn’t quite sure what to do with that so… I waved back. What else was I supposed to do? In an instance, I became convinced that I’d really just made the whole thing up. If there really was someone inside and nothing untoward seemed to be going on, the kid had seemed perfectly happy after all, then it had to be a real house. And really, if it had been some big spooky master plan, then why would he have acknowledged me? I’ve been to the movie theatre. I know children in horror flicks can be creepy, but just straight up waving at me like I was just another neighbor and nothing was going on? Didn’t exactly set up the sinister mood that I figured would have come from the place.

And then a hand shot out and. The kid recoiled as it shut, looking disappointed that he’d been caught doing something it was evident he wasn't supposed to. And I snapped back into trusting myself and sticking with my gut. I didn’t like the look of that. At all. Unfortunately, my whole life, I’ve generally been prone to the third fear response rather than either of the useful ones: I freeze. This time was no different. I couldn’t bring myself to drive away.

[In the background, eerie music begins playing.]

I sat there in dead silence for what felt like hours with a vague feeling of unease hanging in the air when the door opened. A man stepped out, wearing this fine tailored suit that I’d seen clients wealthier than I would ever be wear into my office and carried himself with the confidence of a person that knows no one is going to cross them. Despite all that, his face was soft. Approachable. Kind, even. Seemed like the kind of guy that knew he had money, but was willing to help you if you’d just say thank you afterwards.

As he approached my car he called out to me: “Hello there!”

Nice and friendly. Even with the strangeness of a few moments ago and my lingering unease, I could hardly bring myself to believe that this man would do anything to me. Sure, I was still stuck to my seat in fear, but he seemed perfectly safe. Maybe that’s just what it’s like to be charismatic though, looking back. I wasn’t sure what to do at that point, but my pre-programmed social response got the better of me and I rolled down my window to meet him.

“Hi.” I said. Just a simple greeting until I could really figure out what was happening.

He put one hand on the top of my car and leaned down to meet my eyes. As he spoke, his smile never faded: “So… I take it… you can see this place?”

Well, I was so taken aback I wasn’t really sure what to say, so I just nodded. And the next thing he said, well… threw me a bit off. He stood up, brushed off his pants calmly, turned back to the house, began walking, and he just said-

[Record scratch, cutting the music off.]

ARCHIVIST:

Now there’s a profanity here that I will not repeat, but it seems Ayla’s statement finishes there.

[The Archivist sighs and shuffles their papers.]

ARCHIVIST:

There’s not much followup to be done here. Ayla gave us a street address, but didn’t actually tell us which house it was. [mutters] Perhaps she’s more of an idiot than she claims to be.

Regardless, upon investigating the street, nothing appeared to be out of the ordinary, though none of our staff were familiar enough with the area to tell which houses should and shouldn’t be there. In my personal opinion, this is a mere case of a poor attention span. I can’t blame Ayla, I suppose, but was it really worth coming here and telling a whole dramatic story over it?

[scoff] There are some other areas of this statement that leave room for questioning and research, such as the radio static and the house’s residents. For now, however, I will be filing this one under “Irrelevant” in my mind. End recording.

[Recorder clicks on.]

[Recorder clicks back on.]

[There’s footsteps as HR walks down the hall. They knock on the Archivist’s office door. Meanwhile, the Archivist can be heard moving something.]

HR:

[muffled] Uh, hello? I’ve got something for the Archivist.

ARCHIVIST:

Oh, uh, yes, of course. Just let me— [They curse as they are heard tripping over piles of statements.]

[A pause.]

HR:

...should I come back at a later time, or—?

[The door suddenly swings open.]

ARCHIVIST:

Right. Blimey. Sorry about that, mate. What’s all this, then?

HR:

Er, are you the head archivist?

ARCHIVIST:

That depends, who’s asking?

HR:

Your HR. I’m also an intern under Mr. Banks, which brings about a whole array of other useless titles, but for your purposes, I’m just HR. My name is Luca.

ARCHIVIST:

Oh! Lovely. Mr. Banks told me I’d be seeing you. Um, pleasure to meet you.

HR:

Thanks, you—wait, wh—?

ARCHIVIST:

[trying to change the subject] Say, why are you here, Luca? Any plans for after your internship? I mean, surely, you have a field of study, a career plan?

HR:

[slowly, growing increasingly confused] Oh, um, yeah. I, um—well, I started here—um, yeah, after my internship, I. Uh.

ARCHIVIST:

It’s alright if you don’t have a plan, y’know. Took me a while to figure all my stuff out, and, well, I got out alive, didn’t I?

HR:

No, it’s just—I know I have something, I just. Um. [desperately trying to change the subject] What are you doing in there, exactly?

ARCHIVIST:

[beat] Oh, just some housekeeping.

HR:

...and that required you to move an entire bookshelf?

[A long pause.]

ARCHIVIST:

Listen, I know what this looks like.

HR:

Doesn’t he have a weird thing about that?

ARCHIVIST:

[passionate] Which is exactly why I did it! I mean, they’re not the heaviest bookshelves in the world, so it’s certainly not a matter of safety.

HR:

[mutters] As if Mr. Banks has ever valued the life and safety of his employees.

[Both are heard walking back into the office towards where the bookshelf was.]

ARCHIVIST:

[cont.] Which means there must have been something weird about the bookshelf—and I was right. See, look, there’s like a weird...hole. Thing.

HR:

...I’m guessing that’s why Mr. Banks made me bring you a shovel?

ARCHIVIST:

Hm? Oh, right, the shovel. Kind of forgot I had asked for that.

HR:

How did you not notice I was carrying it when I came here?

ARCHIVIST:

You see, within the hole, there’s this big mound of dirt, and I have reason to believe that there’s something hidden beneath.

HR:

[They sniff, then, disgusted] Oh god, why does it smell like something died in there?

ARCHIVIST:

That’s what I’m trying to find out.

HR:

Look, can’t you just...I don’t know, leave it? Like, just put the bookshelf back, spray some air freshener, and then be done with it? I really don’t want to have to write this up.

ARCHIVIST:

You expect me to work under these conditions? Having a mysterious hole in my wall with no idea what’s lurking within?

HR:

Look, I just think this is a really stupid idea. If Mr. Banks finds out—

ARCHIVIST:

He’s not going to! You— [they huff a sigh.] Would you just hand me my shovel? I’m going in!

HR:

Whatever you say.

[HR hands the Archivist the shovel.]

ARCHIVIST:

Thank you.

[They are heard shoveling for some time, before the Archivist finally seems to hit something.]

HR:

Is...is that…?

ARCHIVIST:

My god.

HR:

That’s a dead body.

ARCHIVIST:

Appears to be. [beat.] Do you know who it is?

HR:

I mean, they’re sort of hard to recognize now.

ARCHIVIST:

Perhaps the previous archivist?

HR:

I dunno, I never knew them.

[A long pause.]

ARCHIVIST:

Right, then. Back to work. Mind helping me move this bookshelf?

HR:

(under their breath) God, I’m gonna have to write this up, aren’t I?

[Recorder clicks off.]

[Theme music plays.]

[CREDITS.]

Incident Report Number 31 is a podcast made by Three-Eyed Frog Presents. This episode, “In the Middle of the Street,” was written, directed, and produced by Val West and Luka Miller with sound design by Luka Miller. This episode featured Val West as the Archivist and Luka Miller as HR. Music is produced by Luka Miller. To keep up with the show and find transcripts, make sure to follow us on our Twitter at @IR31Pod and on tumblr at @IncidentReport31. To contact us with any questions or concerns, feel free to email us at [email protected]. Thanks so much for listening!

#ir31pod transcripts

5 notes · View notes

phantomrose96 · 4 years

Text

Ghost Speak: The Teacher Part 6

part 1- part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - part 5

A secret santa gift for @thickerthanectoplasm - who asked for something with an OC of hers (I chose Annie!)

...

When Annie Fenton got home from school, she shut the door a bit harder than usual, and wriggled off her shoes a bit more forcefully than usual, and stomped to the kitchen to start eating cereal out of the box a bit more angrily than usual.

“How was school, Annie?” Danny asked over his shoulder. He kept his words light, hands still tinkering with the ecto-earpiece he’d been trying to sync to his phone’s bluetooth for a while. The gadget was meant for communication during battle, but Danny wasn’t about to pass up the opportunity for ecto-powered (therefore, him-powered) running headphones.

Annie only huffed. The sounds of fist-being-shoved-into-cereal-box and angry-cereal-crunching got louder.

Danny set the ear pieces down, and sat up straight on the living room couch, now properly angling his body around to see his daughter standing on the other side of the kitchen counter – phone in hand, angry-cereal-grabbing with the other. “Not great then?”

“School was stupid. I wrote an awesome essay and Mr. Flannigan failed me on it.”

James, seated at the kitchen table, perked up a touch. “Mr. Flannigan’s an asshole. You probably shouldn’t worry about it.”

“Hey, language,” Danny chided, now fully rising from the couch.

James looked up. “Dad I’m 15. I can say asshole.”

“No you can’t. I was 15 once and I definitely couldn’t say asshole.”

James grumbled. Danny smiled. He rounded the couch and stopped just shy of the kitchen counter. He lowered his elbows onto the countertop and leaned in. “So, that essay?”

“Look!” Annie tossed the cereal box down, yoinked her bag from the floor, tugged the zipper hard enough to risk snapping it, and rifled through the scores of smashed and stashed papers in her bag before emerging with a crumpled, stapled-at-the-corner document. “Read it!”

Danny took the paper from her. A half-sheet rubric was stapled on top. At a glance, Danny could see all categories of the rubric had been slashed-through. Scrawled at the top in black ink it said, “Not legible. Cannot grade. Please write neatly next time.”

Danny flipped the rubric. He cleared his throat and began reading. “In F. Scott Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby, numerous types of symbolism are used throughout the story. Such things as Gatsby’s car, the green light, and T.J. Eckleberg’s eyes all are symbolic of the themes in the story.--”

Annie slammed her hands on the counter, then threw both arms out. “See! You can totally read it!”

James nudged his way into the kitchen, ducking under Annie’s outstretched arms and sidling up behind Danny to glance at the essay.

“Annie I can read this too. I don’t know what the hell Flannigan’s problem is.”

“Language, James.”

“What the heck Flannigan’s problem is,” James amended.

Danny focused back on the essay, a bit of righteous indignation rising in his chest. He continued to skim, and not a single word was illegible. Annie’s handwriting wasn’t perfect, perhaps, and the ink had smudged in a few places. But it was neat enough, and clear enough, and certainly readable.

The front door clicked open, a gust of crisp fall air funneling in as Sam wiggled her key loose, a complicated effort with both arms wrapped about brown bags of groceries. Danny, Annie, and James all turned to watch her as she kicked off her shoes, and kneed the door shut, and set the bags down on the counter.

“You would not believe the lines today. I’ve never seen that place so crowded on a Tues—what?”

Sam paused mid sentence, eyes flitting among her family members all gathered in the kitchen, hunched over a sheet of paper. “What did I walk in on?” Sam asked, more than a little used to catching her whole family conspiring to do something stupid, dangerous, or both.

“Mr. Flannigan failed me because he’s an asshole!” Annie shouted.

“I said language,” Danny responded.

“What?” Sam asked.

“He said my writing ‘isn’t legible’,” Annie continued with air quotes. “But that’s bullshit because Dad AND James can read it no problem. Flannigan’s just a jerk and too lazy to read the essay I SLAVED over.”

“Annie’s totally right like it’s not even that messy,” James chimed in, head angling past his father.

“Yeah I skimmed the whole thing and nothing’s wrong with it,” Danny said.

“See?! Validation! And corruption in the system!” Annie banged her fist on the counter top. “I will not stand idly by as the oppressing teaching class tries to tank my grades!”

“I think we should call the school, maybe,” Danny said.

“Or I can talk to Flannigan. He knows me, and I think kinda likes me,” James offered.

“And I’ll kick his butt!”

“Or we could—” Danny started.

“Give it,” Sam said, hand outstretched and fingers curling in twice in quick succession.

“Huh?”

“The essay in your hands that you’re waving around. Let me see it.”

“Oh, right,” and Danny handed the paper over.

Sam set her eyes to it. Annie pounded one fist into her open palm.

“Whole Fenton family’s got my back,” she said. “Flannigan’s ass is grass!”

Danny cuffed her lightly on the shoulder “Language.”

“Yup, it’s exactly what I hoped it wasn’t,” Sam declared, hefting a sigh that could be felt across the room as she set her free hand to her forehead and dragged it down her face. “It’s been what, 20 years maybe? Since I’ve seen this stupid language.”

“Wait, language?” Danny asked.

“What language Mom? This is my English essay.”

“Maybe she means all your swearing?” James proposed.

“Why the hell would I swear in an English essay James? I’m not stupid.”

“Annie for the last time you better watch it with that langu—” Danny stopped cold. “…Oh. Oh. Oh no,” he said with a single quiet breath. “Wait, give it back. Give it here.” He motioned for the paper, which Sam handed to him. He smoothed out the wrinkles, and began skimming the essay again.

In F. Scott Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby, numerous types of symbolism are used throughout the story. Such things as—

No, Danny stared closer, squinted at the paper, willed himself to see the words one-at-a-time. Dissect. Isolate. Read. Really read.

Im F. Scott Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby, hyrrelt num krechnor fa knurriert gan tepeirier van flyrr. Grakk kann nyrut—

“Oh no,” Danny muttered. “Oh no Annie, not you too.”

“Oh thank god!” Sam declared, throwing her arms up in the air. “Some sweet sweet English!”

“Some sweet—wait—wait was I--?” Danny motioned to himself, fingers spread, palm toward his face, hand waving up and down. “Have I not been speaking English? This whole time?”

“Nope,” she poked Danny in the chest, “not a single English word until ‘Oh no Annie’.”

“…Really?” Danny asked.

“I walked in here. Put the groceries down. Asked ‘what’s going on?’ And all three—all three of you—just went off. None of it was English. I’ve been working off context clues.”

“Hang on what do you mean not English?” Annie grabbed her own paper back, skimming through. “I only know English. What other language could this even be in?”

“Danny, please, answer whatever she just asked, because I don’t have the first clue what she said,” Sam said, turning to rifle through her grocery bags. “I already did this whole dance with you. I’m clocking out on this one.”

“Ghost, Annie,” Danny answered, angling his shoulders just slightly to face his daughter head-on. “Ghost Speak. Ghosts and half-ghosts just kind of, know the language, I guess. We slip into it sometimes without meaning to. Well, I usually don’t. Anymore, at least. But I did right now, I guess, accidentally.”

Annie squinted at her paper. “I wrote an essay in Ghost? I can speak Ghost?”

“You’re speaking it right now.”

“This is Ghost???”

“Listen to yourself closely. You can like, hear it on the fringes of your words.”

“Are you messing with me?” Annie shut her mouth, suddenly tingling with the feeling of sharp edges and enunciations from her mouth that she wasn’t used to. Weird curves and curls of her tongue. A hiss. A light growl. Her smile spread across her whole face. “Oh wicked. Hell yeah, hell yeah! Also, um, how do I stop?”

“With practice. And with training. And with… help… unfortunately,” Danny muttered, seeming to go a little pale.

“Oh no.” Sam paused, letting the groceries sit. “Danny, you’re not going to.”

“I am. For Annie’s sake, I’m willing to make this sacrifice.”

“What sacrifice?” Annie asked.

Danny pulled his phone from his pocket. He thumbed through his contact list and settled on one, and raised the phone to his ear, and the sound of muffled ringing filled the room. A click. A muted hello?

“Hi. Mr. Lancer? It’s Danny. Yeah. Yeah. Good, and you? Yeah, so, I need a favor from you. And before you ask, yes I’m serious—”

…

Hardly 40 minutes had passed when the doorbell rang. Annie opened the door to the sight of an old man almost too tall for the frame, and yet comically too lithe for it as well, almost like she had opened the door for a tree sapling. The old man tipped his bowler’s hat, and seemed to roll and bounce into the house with limbs made of springs.

“Yo! Danny! It has been ages! How the kryypt are you?!”

“Ryan, language,” Danny said, his tone every ounce defeated.

The bean pole man wrapped Danny in a hug, gave him two quick pats on the back and shoved him back. “Yes, language for sure. What’s the damage? Where’s the culprit? I need details.”

“This…” Danny started slowly, motioning to Annie, “is my daughter, Annie. She slipped into Ghost today and hasn’t yet been able to unslip.”

Annie blinked, trying to catch up with the conversation. She got a good look at the newcomer for the first time, as he had finally stopped moving: The man was definitely in his 70’s, his graying hair spiked up front, smushed and disheveled slightly from the bowler hat. His face was deeply wrinkled, skin practically carved into puzzle pieces from—Annie could only speculate—the way his face seemed to bend to an absurd degree with every single emotion that crossed it. He wore square-frame glasses that magnified his eyes, bug-like. His outfit was thrift store chic: hawaiian palm unbuttoned shirt, graphic T beneath with a winking cartoon alligator, tie with stacks of library books printed on it, military camo pants, socks, sandals.

“Your outfit…” Annie spoke slowly, almost in mirror of her father. Her eyes lit up. “absolutely fucking rules.”

“Ha!” the man struck a pose, superman-like, and then flipped his tie over his shoulder. “Thank you! Someone who appreciates fashion!” He stuck a comically-too-large hand out for Annie to shake. “Ryan Finn, spectral enthusiast, and long-time-Fenton-family-friend!”

“More of an acquaintance,” Danny interjected.

Annie took his hand and shook it vigorously. “I didn’t know my dad had any cool friends. Besides maybe Aunt Val.”

“I set a high bar, that’s for sure!” Ryan angled his head over his shoulder toward Danny, still shaking Annie’s hand. “Danny, this child is fantastic!”

“I’m gonna take a nap,” Sam said, rising from the couch and shutting the book she was reading. “Wake me up if anything’s on fire.”

Danny watched her go, staring at the creaking staircase until she had vanished entirely. He looked back on the room, eyes a bit wider, as if suddenly much more afraid of his current company.

“Yeah I’ve um… got to go… patrol… actually… Box Ghost… you know… yeah…” Danny rose too, much more suddenly and tensely than Sam, and transformed on spot. “If you two need anything, don’t hesitate to call Mr. Lancer.”

“Good ol’ Edward!” Ryan chimed back.

“Wait, as in Zelda’s dad?” Annie asked.

“He owes me like, a million times over. Ryan’s kind of his, anyway.”

And with that, Danny shot through the roof, disappearing as a pinprick on the horizon already several hundred feet away. Ryan watched him disappear, then turned back to Annie with a grin.

“I’ve got plenty of experience teaching Ghost, so trust me you’re learning from the best of the best. I also had plenty of time to iron out the wrinkles with my lesson plans when I was running this course on your dad.”

“Wait, you taught my dad?”

“Oh he taught me plenty too. It was mutual! It’s the mark of real life-long friends to bring out the best in each other.”

“How long ago?”

“Oh, man, 20 years ago at this point.”

“So like, you taught him as a teenager? As in when he was my age?”

“Yup and yup.”

“Do you have embarrassing stories about him I can use as blackmail? Can you tell me?? Dad acts like he was only ever cool growing up, and I need to know these things. I need dirt.”

“I will tell anything to anyone who asks with enough enthusiasm! I can keep no secrets, ever! Except one, which is your dad’s identity. I kept that one. But you already know that so I am sworn to no one and nothing! And I can confirm your dad was an absolute mess as a teenager. But still, you have to earn embarrassing stories. Do well with these lessons and we’ll see what I can dish out on your dad. So! Ghost Speak Lesson One! How to stop speaking Ghost! Are you ready kid?”

Ryan struck another pose, and with a grin, Annie mirrored it.

“Oh fuck yeah I’m ready,” she answered.

“Hey!” Ryan stuck a finger out, pointed at Annie. He paused, and the grin on his face spread wider. “I like your fucking language, Kiddo.”

#Danny Phantom #Ghost Speak #dp #dp fanfiction #Ryan Finn #Annie Fenton #boy its been a while since i dusted off this disaster au #good times

326 notes · View notes

nikibogwater · 4 years

Text

The City Never Sleeps--a Tales of Arcadia fanfiction

“Moving to New York City is no easy task, and Douxie's been burning the candle at both ends for the past month in order to make ends meet. Fortunately, he has a family waiting for him every night when he comes home.”

Special thanks to @poetryinmotion-author for beta reading and providing me with the title!

So yes, this is my coping mechanism after the emotional trauma of Wizards. A little Found Family fluff to ease my screaming soul. Read on AO3:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25830517

Or under the cut:

Why the hell was living in New York City so expensive?

Douxie had started this latest venture with at least some optimism. Protect the tiny sorceress and keep an eye out for any suspicious magical activity that could point to the return of the Arcane Order, all while remaining as inconspicuous as possible. It wasn’t that different from what he’d been doing for the last nine-hundred years.

Except for the damn cost of living.

Arcadia Oaks hadn’t exactly been low-rent either, but at least he’d been able to manage by juggling two part-time jobs and occasionally passing himself off as a streetside fortune teller (humiliating as that was) whenever finances got particularly tight. He’d had plenty of time to do his nightly patrols of the streets, chase down any rogue magical creatures, set new stasis traps, and be home in time to microwave dinner and pass out on his sofa-bed for seven hours before the routine began again the next morning. But New York City was a different monster.

He’d chosen this place for a few very good reasons. First, it was on the other side of the continent from Arcadia. Provided he’d covered their tracks right, the Arcane Order would have to scour any number of miles of the country before they could even begin to narrow down his position here. Second, the presence of magic in New York City was borderline undetectable. The area was so choked with noise, pollution, traffic, and people that picking out a magical signature from the chaos would be practically impossible. Third, (and perhaps this was the weakest reason, if he was being honest with himself) he had never been there before. Douxie had done some traveling in his centuries-long life, but somehow New York City had never ended up on his itinerary. If he was going to be immortal, he wanted to make the most of it and see the big sights. Up until now, he’d been stuck in Arcadia, trying to keep an eye on the magical stirrings there (and fuzzbuckets, there were a lot of them). Once he was free to go where he pleased, of course he was going to pick somewhere he genuinely wanted to be.

At least two of those reasons had been good ones, but that didn’t change the fact that paying for a studio apartment in New York City and feeding himself, Archie, and occasionally Nari (she only ate on days when she could not simply absorb energy from the sun) with no high-demand career skills to speak of was a herculean task. He’d had to take on three minimum-wage jobs just to make ends meet, and sleep? Well, he counted himself lucky if he got four hours in a single night.

Which landed him here, stumbling up to the door of their ramshackle apartment, fiddling with an ordinary keyring in order to keep up appearances should anybody walk by while he undid the twelve magical seals he had placed when he left this morning. He let himself in with a groan, slammed the door behind him, and somehow dredged up enough energy to replace the seals before he slid to the floor, utterly spent. What time was it? He’d gotten off work at 1:30, right? Or was he mixing up tonight with last night? Wait, was today Thursday or Friday? Fuzzbuckets, he could barely string two thoughts together in his head. He groaned again and pressed his fists against his bloodshot eyes. It was pitch black inside the apartment, and the only sound came from the small heating unit in the corner.

But he wasn’t alone. He felt a familiar form brush against his folded legs, and heard Archie’s welcoming purr close to him. Douxie sighed and blindly reached out, groping for a moment before his Familiar pressed his furry head against his waiting fingers.

“Did anything happen t’day?” Douxie slurred quietly. At this point, Archie no longer needed him to specify “anything magic related that could potentially be dangerous.”

“Nothing. All clear,” the cat told him, stepping into his lap. “Though I can’t say the same for you. I haven’t seen such a breakout since the fifteenth century.”

“What?” Douxie raised a hand to his face and felt his cheek, which was peppered with tiny red bumps. “Fuzzbuckets,” he moaned, letting his hand fall. “Think it’s the stress. I don’t remember the last time I slept through the night.” There were a few minutes of silence as Douxie stroked his friend’s fur, knowing he should move to his mattress in the corner, but too exhausted to care if he just passed out here.

“Douxie?”

His eyes slid open as he heard a small voice at his side (when had his eyes closed?) and saw Nari crouched beside him. She was wearing one of his old t-shirts, which was comically large on her tiny frame, and a part of him suddenly wished he could afford to buy her nicer clothes. He was her guardian now, he should at least be able to provide her with that. Then again, she had spent most of her considerably long life wearing enchanted armor from the Eternal Forest, so maybe she didn’t care about not having brand-name PJs. Right now, her eyes were sweeping over his face critically, her brow pinching with worry. Oh right, she was probably waiting for him to say something.

“H’llo,” he mumbled, his eyes closing again.

“Your aura is so weak,” Nari whispered, her hand coming to rest on his chest above his heart, where she could feel his magic give a pitiful, fluttering pulse beneath her fingers. “You are pushing yourself too far.” There was an element of reproach in her soft voice.

“Got no choice,” Douxie replied. “Have to keep you safe.” He heard her take in a sharp breath as though he had struck her. His lids flew open and he saw her fiddling with her hands and looking ashamed. “I....I didn’t mean...” He forced himself to sit up, pausing for a moment when his vision swam and his brain flopped around his skull like a dying Nyarlagroth. “Nari, this isn’t your fault. I just....It’s hard to make ends meet, that’s all.”

“You came here because of me,” she argued quietly, still refusing to look at him. “Because you thought I would be safe here.”

“I....Yeah. But it’s not your fault the rent’s so high. ‘M fine, I just need to sleep.” He shooed Archie off his lap and somehow managed to get to his feet, though the world spun around him and his knees wobbled like jello. Nari reached out to help him, but he ignored her offer (it wasn’t like she could provide much support, seeing as she only came up to his waist), and stumbled over to the mattress on the floor in the corner, falling onto it with a rough sigh.

“Your shoes are still on,” Archie informed him, coming to sit by his head. Douxie hummed noncommittally and did nothing. A moment later, he felt Nari untangling the laces of his hightops and sliding them off of his feet. Archie curled up in the crook of his shoulder, his purring filling the wizard’s ears and silencing his disjointed thoughts. Nari draped a blanket over him, pausing for a moment to rest her small hand on top of his uncombed hair. He felt her thumb rub a few circles against his scalp before she pulled away and stood up to return to her own bed on the other side of the room. Douxie was asleep before she’d even crossed the floor.

*****

Douxie found his eyes opening twenty minutes before his phone alarm was set to go off. He felt oddly rejuvenated for someone who had worked himself to the bone yesterday and only fallen into bed at quarter past two. He double checked the time on his phone, wondering if he’d somehow slept through his alarm. 6:13 am. He rolled out of bed, careful not to disturb Archie, who was sprawled out next to him, paws twitching as he dreamed. He glanced over at Nari, who was barely visible within a tightly-wound cocoon of blankets, her antlers the only easily distinguishable part of her. He could sense her aura, but it was dim, and scarcely pulsing, which meant she was quite sound asleep. Satisfied with the knowledge that his family was comfortable and at peace for the moment, he slipped out onto the tiny balcony, shivering as the cold embraced him. He left the door ajar a few inches in case Archie woke up and decided to join him, and zipped up his rumpled hoodie, before casting a glance around him.

The sky was a silvery grey, and he knew that the sun was peeking over the horizon at his back. The balcony faced west, and had a less-than-stunning view of a dank alleyway. It was barely wide enough for three people, and nearly half of it was occupied by Nari’s rapidly growing collection of houseplants and herbs. Douxie sat on the floor, crossing his legs beneath him, and leaned back against the brick wall of the apartment building. He gazed up at the slowly lightening sky, mind curiously blank, though not for want of energy. There was something about the stillness of the early morning that put him in a state of silence. Almost as though he were listening for something.

Or someone.

His heart twisted sharply in his chest, and for once, he let himself acknowledge it. He’d spent many early mornings like this in Camelot, perched on a battlement, watching the sunrise, waiting for the sound of his master calling him to his chores. Back then, he had dreaded hearing Merlin’s voice, knowing that it would be the end of the brief momentary peace he had carved for himself from the stillness of the morning. But now....Now he’d give anything to hear his master calling his name again.

Something pressed up against his knee, and he looked down to find Archie’s bespectacled gaze meeting his own. Without a word, Douxie opened his arms and let his Familiar settle into place on his lap. Douxie wrapped him up in his arms, clinging to his presence, suddenly acutely aware of how much his heart was aching, and Archie purred in understanding. The cat was warm against his chest, a physical reminder that although he had lost a great deal these many years, he wasn’t alone.

The door creaked, and Douxie looked up to find a very sleepy-looking Nari stepping out to join them.

“You’ll catch a cold out here,” Douxie scolded wearily, taking note of her bare arms and legs. She responded with a disinterested hum and rubbed one of her eyes blearily. Douxie sighed and held out an arm to her. She flopped down next to him and curled up against his side, one hand coming to rest above his heart, feeling his magic swirling and pulsing within.

“Your aura was twisting. You were sad,” she mumbled as he tucked her closer with his arm.

“...Maybe a little,” Douxie admitted. “I didn’t think you could feel that in your sleep.”

“Never try to hide anything from an ancient sorceress,” Archie advised from his place on Douxie’s lap. “Especially one who likes you.” Douxie breathed a quiet chuckle and gave his Familiar a scratch behind the ears. There was a moment of companionable silence between the three of them.

“...You enchanted my sleep, didn’t you?” Douxie said suddenly, looking down at Nari. She shifted, almost guiltily, and nodded.

“She does that several times a week, actually,” Archie put in. Nari opened her eyes long enough to send him the most resentful glare she could muster.

“Tattletale,” she muttered. The cat merely shrugged.

“...Thank you,” Douxie murmured. “I don’t think I could’ve survived this past month without either of you.”

“We’re going to be okay, Douxie,” Nari said through a yawn. “I believe in you. You’ll find a better job soon, and the Order will never find us.”

“You think?” Douxie asked lightly. The wood nymph nodded sleepily against his chest. “Well, I suppose there’s no arguing with you, is there?” He squeezed her shoulder fondly.

“You argue with me all the time,” Archie pointed out, turning a few circles and settling more comfortably on Douxie’s crossed legs. “If I were any less gracious, I might accuse you of playing favorites.”

“Oh, I do play favorites, Archie. You’re my favorite person to argue with.” Archie huffed and flicked his tail, but Douxie knew he was smiling without having to look.

The mage held his small family close, staring up at the sky that was turning more blue with every passing minute, no longer feeling the pervading chill. He couldn’t say what the future would bring. He couldn’t promise that everything would work out. But he did know, beyond the slightest shadow of a doubt, that he would fight to save the world a hundred times over, work himself until he was nothing but skin and bone, if it meant he could have more moments like this.

#tales of arcadia #toa #wizards: tales of arcadia #wizards: toa #fanfiction #self-indulgent fluff #found family #the bean goddess is a good little sister

47 notes · View notes

pretendrocketships · 4 years

Text

What Am I Now?

A/N: I suck and so do guys so this has been floating around in my head so lets go

About: How do you explain a relationship you don’t even understand? The one where being away from each other hurts but staying together isn’t what it used to be. 2.5k, Lil thing, part 2? angst warning

Song: Falling by Harry Styles

The sun was hot and unforgiving, and the heat did nothing to help your mood. It seemed like everyone was out. People littered the cafes along the sidewalk of the city. Everyone toasting to whatever and laughing about jokes you probably wouldn’t find funny. Scents of pizza and pasta wafted through your nostrils. You swatted at your nose to remove the scent, and lingering flies, from your area. It always seemed like everyone around you was at their best when you were feeling your worst. Isn’t that something? You rounded the corner with a purpose, to get away from everyone who was making you feel more shitty then you felt when you left your house.

It wasn’t anything particular, just a bad mood. Yup, that was it. Just the wrong day on the wrong side of the bed. That’s all. There was nothing in the world that would make you admit that the headlines kept cycling around your head, that you didn’t skim, but read the full articles. “Harry Styles Seen Sneaking Girl Out Of Bavel Late Last Night,” “Who Could Style’s Girl Be? Here Are Our Guess,” and your favorite “Are You Harry Styles’ New Girl? Take Our Quiz and Find Out!” It was a circle. Headline after headline popped into your head. Snippets of articles flashed before your eyes. They were saying they haven’t seen a girl on his arm since you. They were saying she was the new you. They were saying that she was replacing you. Then, articles stopped mentioning you all together. That hurt. You felt that.

Another block zoomed by. You wanted to wear yourself out, to the point where your mind could only think about sleep and not stories you’ve read. The run keeps your mind everywhere but where it wants to be. One foot in front of the other. Don’t step on that crack, might break your mother’s back. The beat of this song is really good for keeping my mind off -- fuck. The next half a mile was a constant battle, to turn round and go home, giving up on a weak attempt at a distraction, or to power through and hope the next mile would keep your mind off your thoughts. By the time you reached the next stoplight, you were over it, submitting to your thoughts and turning home. Head down, feet to the floor you flew yourself home, desperate to get back to safe space where you could let yourself feel hurt.

“I’m allowed to be upset.” You kept mumbling those words over and over to yourself on the way home. “I’m allowed to be hurt and upset.” Tears threatened to fall. You ignored them. “I choose when and how long it takes me to heal.” The bastards fell. Oh like a flood, they fell. ‘No Crying in Public,’ a rule you actually had framed on your wall, was already broken. So, once you locked your door, you let the tears flow as freely as they wanted. For five minutes. Five minutes to mope then get up and go. The little saying seemed even stupider when you were upset, but you needed a reason to stop crying and get up. And that’s what you did, got up, got in the shower, and started the pile of work you’d been avoiding all week. A shower is usually your restart button, but with a desk full of papers that held no meaning, you couldn’t focus. You shook your head, rolled your shoulders and pressed your pen to the paper and attempted to “just get over it” like every friend who offered you unwarranted advice said. If your professors didn’t care about heartbreak, why should you?

It took a while, an hour and twenty-four minutes to be exact, to get your first assignment done, wandering thoughts occupying most of your time. The stack beside you was still overwhelming, much like your mind at the moment. You wagered a deal with yourself. Ten minutes to think through the situation, then twenty minutes doing work, a back and forth deal that appeased your mind.

No, he technically wasn’t in the wrong because technically he didn’t do anything since you technically aren't together. That was too many technicals. You always thought you were special. Special enough to think the whole “friends to lovers” thing would work out for you and a mildly famous popstar. Fuck, were you wrong. You remember laughing in your kitchen. Sunday morning and teasing him. Calling him “mildly” famous was always your thing. You would grab at his belt buckles and pull him closer, or brush past him to start the Keriug and remind him how much you loved your “mildly famous boyfriend”. Your rationale: making sure his ego didn’t get too big for your shared apartment. A place only you two shared when you were both in the city. He would laugh. A big one. The kind where his eyes were squeezed shut and one, or both, of his large hands were gripping the counter. Soon, he’d be wiping tears from his eyes and pulling you flush against his chest, whispering about how he loved his “little star.” The memory stung, like a fresh paper cut; the moment was small, but the pain mighty.

This is how your days went, seemingly productive until you got hit with the past. The smallest things could set you back months, stuck seeing a replay of what you thought was the greatest love story ever told. While coming back from grocery shopping, you remembered when you backed into the garage door and left your mark on Harry’s first home with a sizable dent. You told Harry about your accident, nervous as hell, while he doubled over in laughter, wondering how anyone could not forget to open the garage door whilst backing in at 25 miles per hour. You get into your garage and you’re attacked by the memory of Harry yelling up into the house that he found the succulent he’d lost, and that it was in the corner of the garage surrounded by boxes you’d been meaning to go through. He came upstairs, sheepishly holding a very much dead cactus. “Those things are so hard to kill, so tha fact that ‘ve managed to do so, quite impressive on my part, dont’cha think love?”

As days turned to weeks and weeks to the following weekends, you felt yourself less and less haunted by memories of what used to be. Going out for a run was starting to be just that, a run, not an escape from a mental prison you and your past love created. Things felt right --

HARRY STYLES SINGLE. CONFIRMED

This. This is why you hated twitter. Four words threatened to pause your progress. I mean, if this were a movie, he would’ve confirmed this weeks ago. And you would’ve been back together and everything would have been perfect. But this isn’t a movie. You logged out of twitter and deleted the app. You never liked it anyway, so why let it suck you back into a place you just crawled out of on your hands and knees? You can’t lie to yourself and say that he didn’t pop into your head late that night while you were surrounded by pillows on all sides. You weren’t sure if you missed him or the feeling of comfort his arms provided. Did you really need someone or were you just being weak. Did you need someone to hold you at night, or did you just want it. Your heart was racing with the possibility of any of this being your fault. You needed to stop. You needed to sleep. So, you turned on a podcast specifically about sleep and forced your mind to be filled with stories about someone else.

Last night threw you off. You had to admit that. It wasn’t the end of the world, wasn’t the end of weeks of progress, but it just made you realize you needed a schedule. Something to stick to that wouldn’t fail you. Wake up. Work out. Shower. Eat. Work. Free. You needed some freedom to breathe and not follow order, but the repetition kept you sane, kept you going. Wake up. Work out. Shower. Eat. Work. Go Out With Friends. Shower Sleep. Wake up. Work out. Shower. Eat. Work. Drinks with The Girls. Sleepover. Sleep. Wake up. Work out. Shower. Eat. Work. Family Game Night. Dinner. Sleep. Wake up. Work out. -- Answer the Doorbell?

Sticky. Sweaty. Gross. Your run felt good at the time, but left you itching for your shower as soon as you stepped inside. Whatever telemarketer or Jevhovah’s Witness that was at your door was about to get a version of you you didn’t even like. You contemplated just letting them ring the doorbell until they got the hint, but the chimes kept ringing through your house, now following by incessant knocking. You wanted to pick up speed so the noise would stop, but another part of you wanted to walk as slow as possible torture whoever was behind the door.

You should’ve peeped. You shouldn’t have just swung the door open thinking it was someone just trying to take your money or your time. You should’ve listened to every muscle in your body screaming no, because it wasn’t just from the workout. It was your body trying to protect you from someone who was trying to steal your heart.

“What the fuck.” The words fell from your mouth before you could even register the whole situation. He looks up, hands shoved in his pockets. That sheepishly smile he usually wore was plastered across his face, only this time the corners of his mouth twitched with nerves.

“Hi, (Y/N).” You laughed. Nothing. Absolutely nothing was funny, but it was almost comical how he thought he could come to your house, as if seeing him didn’t make you sick with emotion. You could almost feel his discomfort, or maybe it was yours, who could say.

“So again, why the fuck are you here?” You could feel your stomach bubbling, like a witch’s cauldron. You felt yourself getting red, hot, angry without any way to control it.

“I have three things to tell you, then I’m gone,” he blurted out quickly. Smart boy. You squinted at him, trying to guess what he would say before he could say it, so you could avoid a conversation all together. He sensed your hesitance. “Just hear it from me, I owe you that much.” Did you catch a whiff of Harry admitting his faults without you prompting him? The words were sickenly sweet to your ears. You moved aside, barley, admittedly finding joy in his large frame squeezing into the small entry you provided him. “Thank you,” he whispered.

He stepped in and looked around, taking in all the changes since he was last there. Your TV was bigger now, funny considering you always said he was the only reason you used your TV. The couch was pushed up against the back wall, instead of angled facing the tv. You moved around the loveseats. His favorite blue and white bean bag chairs were no longer hidden behind the couch. Harry had a bad habit of sitting too close to the tv, so you bought yourselves bean bag chairs, insisting he didn’t sit on the floor. He saw all the cook books he bought you from every country he visited no longer called the coffee table home, instead you had autobiographies of various artists, world leaders, and celebrities surrounding your candles and coffee mugs. His gaze landed on every single detail that changed since he last called this place home, your voice pulling him out of his trance.

“And you waited so long to come here… why?” Your attitude, the one he learned to love so much was oozing out of every word you spoke. He wished you would just drop the act and open up to him, but he also knows he deserves it. He wants to laugh and see the corners of your mouth twitch up into a smile, but he knows he doesn’t deserve that.

“I don’t know. --” he started.

“No, don’t. Don’t do that!” Your hands were up in the air. You were frustrated. The anger was radiating off you in waves, far enough to reach every part of the house. You knew him. You knew he had an answer he was afraid of saying. You turned to him, your eyes pleading with him to just let you hear the truth.

“I didn’t think you saw them, didn’t think you cared,” he mumbled, playing his favorite game: tracing the patterns on the brown, granite countertop while avoiding the impact of his words.

“You didn’t think I would,” you laughed, bitterly, humourlessly, “didn’t think I would see it?” Your voice got lower, and he got scared. Scared because he knew it meant your anger was not dissipating. You didn’t have to name drop the articles. You both knew what you were talking about, the emotion in your voice making that clear.

“I didn’t think you still kept up with me. I didn’t. . .” His voice trailed off. He didn’t know whether or not he should say it, because if he did, it would make everything he’d felt these past few weeks real. And he wasn’t sure he was ready for that.

“Didn’t think what.” You whispered this. To be honest, you were tired. You were tired of just how much you cared, tired of what feeling anything for him did to you. To hate him meant you had to harbor all of this anger and remind yourself of everything he did to piss you off. You had to keep that hatred bottled up inside you, shaking up your feelings every now and then so the feeling never died out. To love him? God. To love him you had to reach inside yourself and pull out the months of sheer adoration; the nights in the sheets; the blood, sweat, and tears that went into your most beautiful relationship yet. Everything and anything you felt for him took pieces of your heart you just wanted back. You wanted to feel again, feel anything that didn’t have to do with him.

“(Y/N)....”

“We have to talk, for real this time.”

#harry styles imagines #harry styles imagine #harry styles #harry styles one shot #harry styles blurb #harry styles blurbs #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles angst #fan fic #harry styles drabble #harry styles drabbles #styles #hs

157 notes · View notes

lovelyladyventress · 4 years

Text

Tell me which one of these AUs sounds the most interesting and which one you’d like to read more about? (uhh rep0st?)

I’m reposting this since TUMBLR HATES MY POST/TAGS OR SOMETHING, SORRY IF YOU’VE ALREADY SEEN THIS!

Here I am, back at it again with my AU bullshit. Complete with my ugly ass dauntingly long list of AUs that I’d love to write about but can’t seem to

decide which one to start writing. This has been going on for the past week, dammit! If it’s not too much trouble, could you please help a girl out and let me know either on here or in a PM which one of these you’re curious about or would like to see implemented in an actual story.

Here are four Cloud-centric AU ideas which include (multiple) gay, bi, and (some) straight main/side pairings. Regardless of which one I decide to write first, I (wistful thinking) want to eventually complete most or all of them, even if some of them only end up being one-shots. Thank you! <3

Mercenary Zack and Delivery Boy Cloud AU

Zack, a mercenary, and Cloud, a delivery boy, have been best friends since they were youngsters. Zack is straight but is undeniably (and confusingly into Cloud. Cloud is bi (with a strong leaning towards males) and he’s only recently started to explore that. One day, while Zack and Cloud are hanging out, Zack’s PHS dies and he asks to borrow Cloud’s laptop to check some work-related emails. Cloud says sure, completely forgetting what he’d been “researching” before Zack came over to hang out.

Cloud, suddenly remembering the content of said “research”, screeches out, “NoOoOoO!” whilst comically tripping over himself as he races to stop Zack from opening his laptop.

Zack, being Zack, laughs good-naturedly at Cloud’s behavior and says, “What, don’t want your bestie to see all your fReAkY sHiT LOL?”

Before Cloud can stop him, Zack unlocks the laptop (he knows the password, because, hello, besties) and proceeds to open up about ten tabs of LOUD GAY LEMONY YOU KNOW WHAT (all with actors that are blond and black-haired, hmm s u s p i c i o u s).

Cloud is fucking mortified and literally RUNS out of his own apartment and disappears (disintegrates) into the void while leaving Zack sitting there like a stunned D U M B A S S *insert shocked Pikachu meme here* Hilarity, fluffy romance, and “LeMoNs” ensue.

Main ship and only ship will be Clack/Zakkura. Syrupy sweet, comical, with only a pinch of plot-related angst. Will most likely be a one-shot/two-shot.

Vampire Slayer AU

Set in a world where Shinra keeps the existence of vampires and vampire covens a well-guarded secret from the general public of Midgar in order to keep its citizens calm, orderly, and manageable (see controllable).

Due to the frequency of recent vampire attacks in Midgar’s slums and outlying towns and villages, they charge their best slayer, Cloud Strife, and his partner with the task of finding and killing the progenitor of all vampire-kind in order to end the covert war between humans and vampires and kill off their kind, for good.

That is, until Cloud is double-crossed by his partner, who wants the title of Shinra’s best vampire slayer for himself, and Cloud is left for dead in a forest miles away from civilization. Cloud thinks he’s finally done for this time, until he’s saved by a half-vampire named Vincent, who then proceeds to take Cloud to his maker, Sephiroth, the son of the first progenitor.

Cloud’s only shot at making it out of this alive is playing at Sephiroth’s personal interest in him in a game of cat and mouse until he can get the vampire to trust him enough to let him get close to the progenitor in order to (finally) end the war once and for all and return to his former life.

Main ships are Sefikura with a possibility of some Strifentine. Side ships are Aerti, Scarlet x Elena, and a bunch of others. Angsty, passionate, romantic, and dark. Will probably be a six-shot or more. Who knows?

Life After Meteorfall Canon Divergence AU (I’m excited about this one)

An AU in which both Angeal, Zack, and Aerith (although, just barely) live and help kick Sephiroth’s ass in the final battle. Sephiroth has been defeated by the gang for good (no really, for good y’all), and now the world has turned to healing, mourning, and attempting to rebuild itself after the scars Sephiroth has left behind in his monstrous wake.

Cloud still has lingering feelings for Zack leftover from his time as an infantryman, but desperately hides this fact from both Aerith and Zack because he knows how long they’ve waited and how much suffering they’ve had to endure in order to be with each other. He also cares deeply for both of them and wants them to be happy, despite his own conflicting emotions.

Although Aerith is (slightly) suspicious, Zack is oblivious to it all because he’s finally got the girl of his dreams and has his love-addled goggles on (god dammit Zackary) and asks Cloud to be his best man at their wedding (ugh angst me upppppp baby).

Angeal, however, is not oblivious to it in the slightest. He sees the overly forced smiles, the longing stares, the glances of complete and utter h e a r t b r e a k Cloud shoots Zack when he thinks no one is watching/paying attention to him. And finally, fed up after months of sitting back and just silently observing Cloud falling into emotional ruin, Angeal finally intends to do something about it, honor be damned.

Main ship is Cloudgeal. Side pairings are Zerith, Rude x Tifa (don’t judge me, y’all, I ship SO MUCH this fandom), and possibly many more. Angsty, fluffy, romantic, and with a ridiculously happy ending where everyone reaches a happy, healthy understanding. Will most likely be either a three-shot or a six-shot.

Omegaverse SOLDIER AU (let me liveeeeeee, dammit!)

After failing to get into SOLDIER three times in a row (the max amount of times one can attempt in their lifetime) and having his childhood dream of becoming a hero shattered like glass, Cloud, a Beta cadet, is more than done with SOLDIER and everything to do with the corrupt Shinra Corporation (Uh huh. Suuuuure).

This opinion is only further solidified when Cloud discovers the tragic fate of his hometown: Nibelheim, in an “unprecedented” explosion of its Mako Reactor, burns to the ground, resulting in the deaths of Cloud’s mother and every single person Cloud grew up with. With no home to return to, Cloud, following his best friend Zack Fair’s advice, begrudgingly decides to join the Shinra military as an infantryman and work as a menial grunt for the military’s more prominent SOLDIER members.

That is, until one day during a mission Cloud’s entire unit, including a group of skilled Third and Second Class SOLDIERS assisting them, are slaughtered in a brutal, bloody conflict, leaving Cloud the only one left alive after the mission’s end.

This not only catches the eye of the Director of SOLDIER himself, but several of its First Class members, who are so impressed with the Beta’s strength that they wish to assess Cloud’s capabilities for themselves, personally. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

This leads Cloud down a path filled with convincing lies and hard truths as he discovers the reality of his origins, unveiling secrets about Shinra and his past that he could have gone a lifetime without knowing. He realizes the hard way that sometimes what you dream for, what you desperately wish for, isn’t always something you want in the long run.

Main ships are a tie between Sefikura and Clack/Zakkura (possibly Sephiroth/Cloud/Zack or maybe even a love triangle, ew). I also really wanna try writing out Strifesodos, but I’m leaning towards Banorashipping as a side ship in this cuz its cute and passionate.

A S T R O N G side ship in this is going to be Aerti (featuring Turk!Tifa and Full Cetra!Aerith), along with minor ships like Scarlet x Elena, Tseng x Rufus, and honestly who knows anymore, lol. This will most likely be the longest story on the list, I’m planning for at least ten+ chapters.

Also, not shaming it in any way, but just FYI for the people who are interested, there will be no pregnancy in this story. It’s just not my thing. <3

Again, all of these AU’s are subject to change, but I’d love to bounce ideas back and forth and see what certain shippers would like to see in the fandom. I’m really receptive to discussing fics in general, even if its an idea about one of your own stories you wanna talk about. :)

If you actually read all of that, THANK YOU KINDLY! <33333

#Sefikura #SephCloud #Clack #Zakkura #Cloudgeal #i'm seriously so angry about this tagging thing #WHY IS IT NOT WORKING #*SCREAMS*#IM JUST TRYNA LIVE DAMMIT #why did this post disappear #I THINKS ITS BECAUSE OF CERTAIN KEYWORDS #this is a travesty #I NEED ANSWERS #the text is wonky too #UGHHHHHH

64 notes · View notes

centuryofdean · 4 years

Text

Of Food and Comfort - Part 12

Author Note:: You guys, this is the last part! I honestly do not feel 100% great about it, as if I could have ended it better but unsure how. I still hope everyone enjoys it! There is something else in the works now that I am excited to start sharing soon!

Here shortly I am going to take a small hiatus. I need to finish my Hobbit story (it has been neglected too long), and once it is finished I want to get back more into Marvel. I will be working in the background, but not posting until I have gotten everything else squared away. In the meantime, please tag me in Marvel stories you think I would enjoy! I want to read more fanfics and support writers on Tumblr, so I will be sharing more works as well.

Author Disclaimer:: Marvel and its characters are not mine. I take no credit. Instead I claim the maybe not so great plot, writing and characteristics of the reader insert character. I am not a die hard Marvel fan, I haven’t read all the comics, but have watched the movies. I may get some things wrong, so please don’t hate me. I also have been incorporating Old Norse as terms of endearment.

Summary:: You worked for Tony Stark as a…mechanic of sorts. Anything around the Avengers compound that needed a technicians touch, you handled. With working and living there, you had grown to be friendly with the super heroes. Of course you had grown to have feelings for one of them. The muscled Thunder God to be exact.

Rated:: M for Mature. Please do not read this story unless you are 18+. Smut. NSFW

Pairing:: Thor x Reader

He looked different. The usually shiny bright warm blonde locks you loved running through your fingers was longer, darker and tangled together in messy strands and braids. It was the longest you had ever seen it, coming down just past his shoulders. Some of it was still bundled in braids behind his head. His beard was completely dark, and also very long. It came down past his neck and onto his chest in more intricate braiding. The new look, although a little ragged and dirty, was something you found you liked.

Everything else about him screamed different. It appeared he was dressed in oddly dirty large Earth clothing.

The only concerning thing you did notice was the once bright mirthful ice blue eyes were now dull dark blue like a stormy sky. One was even noticeably darker than the other, oddly…perfect? Now, these new hopeless eyes were starring right back at you.

Even with noticing all these things, you couldn’t help to feel significantly happier. The past months seemed to slowly fade into a blurry bad dream you had woke from. The ache didn’t matter anymore, what mattered is that he was back—home.

Steve had jumped to action, reaching down to pick up the broken mug at your feet and trying to hush Mjölnir who was still growling from the floor a little ways off.

The tremble started in your jaw before the tears. In one swift movement you were posed on your feet, mouth opening to say anything and everything all at once.

“Thor,” another feminine voice called out from the hallway, “I can’t find the bathroom. You said it was at the end of the hall?”

The happy warmth that had just filled you moments ago disappeared with such quickness you were convinced someone doused you in ice water. Your skin prickled with the change, eyes turning to take in the woman, the same woman you passed in the hallway on your way to the kitchen.

Without conscious thought, or ever seeing her before today—you knew who she was—she looked just as you envisioned. Taller, thinner, big eyes and plush lips with flawless skin and sleek brunette hair.

Jane Foster looked as you imagined. Though standing in your kitchen talking to Thor with ease is not what you visualized.

Your hands were shaking as they grasped the island, holding on for dear life when Steve’s head popped up with his stance.

“Steve Rogers,” he offered quickly, making his way around the island to meet Jane. “Let me show you where the bathroom is ma’am.”

The look of awe covered Jane’s face as she smiled awkwardly. Steve started to lead her from the room, but then popped back in a moment later, “If you need anything sweetheart, I’ll be in the living room.”

Just like that you were alone with this new Thor, just a handful of feet away from each other and awkwardly starring at one another.

He didn’t look excited to see you; he didn’t look even remotely happy. Instead he looked upset and forlorn. Why would he be happy to see you, not when he had Jane back? Why else would she be here, with him?

For five months you sat on this base, mourning him every single day—trying to remember the love you shared so that it would get you by until he returned. He finally returned and now you are trying to remember if the love was ever real.

Unconsciously you grasped at the collar of your shirt, checking to make sure the necklace he had given you was hidden underneath the fabric. You had worn the keepsake every day, wearing it even when you showered. It wasn’t uncommon for you to play with it throughout the day either. At this moment you didn’t want him to see it. For some reason it felt as if it were a weakness for him to see you cling to it so tightly.

The only conclusion you could reach was that you were a stand in for Jane. Everything had been a lie, especially when Thor had told you that he no longer cared for Jane in that way, he only cared for you, only loved you. It was confusing, because Thor never lied, but how could you believe it when it looked like he had been back on Earth for more than a few days and came back with Jane in tow?

You tried to picture how your reunion with Thor would be when he returned. You would throw yourself into his arms and tell him you missed and loved him very much. You would tell him that you didn’t care about how upset you would be separated from your friends and family—you would gladly move to Asgard because you couldn’t go without him like that again.

This isn’t what you pictured; heartbroken sitting across from him and rethinking everything that had happened within the past year.

“What happened?” The words came so softly from your lips, you coughed to clear your throat and croaked them louder when he didn’t reply.

Thor’s eyes fluttered close, hands coming up to cover his face while he took a deep breath.

As he spoke, more tears fell from your cheeks. The deep timber that you thought you forgotten brought back a rush of emotions, goosebumps crashing to the surface of your skin. His voice was just as deep as before, but full of defeat. It was like listening to an old sad country song you hadn’t heard since you were younger.

Once he returned to Asgard, he was immediately needed across the realms to fight another battle. Once one battle was over, he needed to go to another. It was as if wars were breaking out all around him. He was trying to prevent the downfall of the realms and Ragnarök.

Eventually he found himself imprisoned by a fire demon. He defeated the demon and returned to Asgard to find Heimdall missing and Loki posing as their father and leading the kingdom.

Forcing Loki to help, they left Asgard and found their father in Norway. Odin revealed that the brothers actually had a sister; one Odin locked away for becoming too powerful and using her powers wrongly. He was dying, and once he passed their sister Hela would be released from her prisons. Even though Thor fought hard to prevent Ragnarök, it was going to happen, and Odin wanted New Asgard to be in Norway on Earth because he thought it was beautiful.

It happened so fast. Odin passed on, and Hela appearing in his place almost. The Bifrost opened, leading Thor and Loki back to Asgard—but Hela followed.

The story began to become garbled as he spoke, almost as if he were grasping to remember the finer details himself in his grief and the order that they happened.

Hela destroyed Asgard’s armies. Thor’s friends were killed at her hand—and she had plans to destroy and conquer the rest of the realms.

Somehow in all this Thor and Loki found themselves separated, Thor on a ship and crashing on another planet. After emerging from his ship, he was captured and taken to the leader to be used as fighting entertainment. Not surprisingly Loki was there becoming good friends with the leader while pretending not to know Thor.

“Mjölnir was left behind on the ship,” he sighed. At his words, the dog perked up a bit, tilting his head in confusion on why a stranger was saying its name. “After I had freed myself and a few others from the fighting games, I was unable to get back to the ship I arrived on and retrieve it. I had tried summoning it, but it never returned.”

Since you needed to know the rest of the story, you kept silent. After he finished telling you what happened, then you would tell him you had the hammer.

The ship Thor found himself on with the other imprisoned fighters was intercepted by another ship. One that housed a talking furry animal named Rocket and a talking tree named Groot?

Thor admitted early on in his retelling of the past five months, that he lost track of days after his father passed away. So, when he and his other escaped friends were taken in by Rocket and Groot, he said he wasn’t sure if it had been months or years when that he had been gone. Time always traveled differently in space. If you didn’t pay attention to how many times you fell asleep and woke up, it was hard to keep track. The time with their new friends blended together so much and went on so long he had felt as if he would never return to Earth.

Thor described his time on Rocket’s ship as endless. They hardly ever stopped anywhere because their food supplies never seemed to deplete. He had vocalized that he was needed back to Asgard to defend it from Hela, even though it was so long ago. Before he could go back, he had needed a weapon since Mjölnir had been left behind.

The new group found themselves at a forge in space, getting assistance from a welding dwarf to create Thor a new weapon, one strong enough to defeat his sister since he sensed she was stronger than even him.

As he was talking about it, he lifted the large axe from the floor for you to see. It reminded you a lot of the hammer but had a wooden handle instead of a metal one. The handle looked like it was just chopped from a tree and slapped together. The carvings etched in it screamed familiarity, though were completely different than the ones on Mjölnir.

It was named Stormbreaker.

Your fingers traced the sleek metal of the weapon, eyes drinking in everything about it while Thor continued to speak.

He explained that their travels back to Asgard were just if the travels to the forge seemed. He still was unsure of how much time had passed.

After they arrived on Asgard, everything happened quickly. They found that Heimdall was trying to help the rest of the Asgardians escape to Norway with the Bifrost. Hela was fighting back, wanting the sword that controlled the Bifrost so she could start her plans to rage war against the rest of the realms.

Thor jumped in the thick of it, battling his sister while his friends and Loki were fighting her army of undead. In one particular moment, Hela stabbed Thor in the eye. This action led him to a vision of how to defeat her. Even with Stormbreaker, he was unable to wield the new weapon efficiently to land a deadly blow on her.

Thor told Loki to put a crown on a flame, knowing that this action was going to rebirth the fire demon who imprisoned him and bring on Ragnarök—bringing the downfall of Asgard.

As the demon and Hela battled, Thor helped Heimdall usher the surviving Asgardians through the Bifrost and to Norway, where Odin said New Asgard should be.

At those last words Thor said, you sat starring at the countertop, trying to take it all in. It sounded like a lot. He must be heartbroken over losing his father and his home. You found it unsurprising he was gone for five months and unable to get back—but was he gone for five months? He probably has been on Earth longer than a few days, especially if Jane Foster was with him.

“When did you get back to Earth,” your voice tried to break as you asked.

Thor coughed to clear his own throat, eyes latching onto Mjölnir the dog at your feet. You looked as well, to try and see what he was seeing. One very large black dog with thick fur, barring his teeth slightly towards Thor and a soft rumble.

That a boy, you thought, smiling softly. Protect your Momma.

“Ten days ago,” Thor said softly. “We arrived to Norway ten days ago.”

Thor had been on Earth for ten days. Clearly, he sought out Jane, why else would she be with him? The realization ate away at your chest, leaving you in pain and short of breath. So why were they here? All he really had here were clothes, clothes he could easily get anywhere else. He did have some belongings, but they were things you had given him.

A pair of sunglasses that were big enough to fit his head and cover half of his face for example. He found them amusing. You had bought him a handful of books about Asgard, and together you both read them (even the children’s books) and discussed what was fact and what was fiction. There were a few Nordic bracelets and clothing, maybe even some beads and hair ties you had gotten for his hair when he braided it.

Everything he had that wasn’t clothing, you had given to him. Thor didn’t keep materialistic things on Earth, because Earth was never really his home. All the thoughtful and meaningful items were in his room in Asgard. He had shown you’re his room once when you were there. It was decorated and personalized. Paintings of his family hung on the walls, old weapons or toys from his childhood. He even had a few Poptart wrappers hidden under his bed.

All of that was gone now. It burned with the rest of Asgard when the fire demon destroyed itself and Hela.

“I have something of yours,” you whispered, finally rising from the stool you sat on. You could give him one last thing that he hadn’t completely lost at least. Without having to ask, Thor trailed behind you as you lead the way back through the hallways towards his room. When you both passed the door to your old room, you took made a mental note to start moving your things back in there as soon as he and Jane left.

Thor made a weird grunting noise but didn’t say anything as he followed. Mjölnir put much needed space between Thor and you. As you both reached his room, you took one more deep breath before pushing forward.

Ever since you moved into it, it had been a state of mess. Dirty clothes littered the floor—well the clean ones did too. You were only able to tell what was clean by sniffing them. Mjölnir’s dog bed sat on the farthest edge of the room, covered in dog hair. Again, everything was covered in dog hair from the clothes on the floor to the sheets and blanket on the bed. Hell, even some dog hair was on the clothes you were wearing and surely in your hair.

You couldn’t help but think that this is what depression looks like.

The hammer was leaning against the vanity dresser you had brought into the room the first week you moved in. It hurt to look at all the photos of you and Thor when you walked towards it.

As your fingers touched the leather on the handle, goosebumps trickled across your arms and chest. This was the first time you touched it since bringing it home. Although you never said anything to the others, it scared you slightly with how you called the power of electricity and thunder like Thor would have. You weren’t Asgardian, you weren’t a God—you were lucky it didn’t kill you.

The hammer swung up with your arm as you presented it to him.

His eyes grew wide, a soft smile hinting at the corners of his mouth.

“Mjölnir,” he exclaimed excitedly.

The sight caused your heart to snag and pull. The last time you had seen that beautiful smile was just before he left. Just before the both of you had gone to bed that night, you found yourself settled on his chest, starring down at him while you both talked about anything and everything. You told him you loved him—and that’s when his face lit up brightly with excitement and joy.

At that moment the dog was on the bed, watching quietly until he heard his name. A sharp bark met the air, causing you to snap out of the trance you slipped into watching Thor smile.

Once he took the hammer off your hands, you stepped over to the bed and sat next to your dog, hugging him tight.

“How,” Thor asked confused.

“A month after you left Tony let me get a dog,” you started, taking a deep breath. You didn’t want to talk forever, you wanted to say as little as possible and leave. Running your fingers through Mjölnir’s thick fur helped you stay grounded. “I went to the park with him one day and he got loose. I called for him over and over again. The hammer showed up just before he did.”

Thor closed his eyes and gripped the handle on the hammer tightly. Then, he quickly turned and started to take in the room. Before he arrived, this room became part of your comfort. Now you were embarrassed that he was here witnessing your distress over him, especially since he moved on.

“You named the dog after the hammer,” he said quietly. “You moved into my room. You wear my clothes… You did not—you did not move on with Steve?”

“What,” you asked sharply, a little confused. “Move on with Steve?”

Thor sat the hammer on the floor, soon settling onto the ground with it. Now that he was in front of you without an island separating you, you could see he had gotten bigger—he wasn’t just wearing baggy clothes.

“When I arrived,” he said. “the Captain was not happy to see me. Your room was empty. He had your tea prepared for you and—and he called you—”

Thor stopped talking suddenly, hands clenching into fists on the tops of his knees. At a loss, you starred back at him. Was he getting jealous that Steve called you sweetheart?

Finally a little fed up with it all, you wanted to explode. You wanted to yell and scream and tell him to take his girlfriend and get the Hell out—but it was Thor. Even if you were heartbroken, you couldn’t ever treat Thor like that; you still loved him.

“I cried—I cried every damn day since you left,” you started off softly. With each of your words, your voice and anger showed itself. “Every. Single. Day. When that fucking hammer came back and you didn’t follow; I thought you were dead. I mourned you Thor! I still tried to hold out hope you were alive and would return. For five months, I never stopped missing you. Steve has been a great friend to me, keeping me company and making sure I’m okay—but only as a friend.”

The waterworks started when you told him you thought he was dead, and they didn’t stop. The dog had gotten up and off the bed when you started yelling about mourning Thor. Mjölnir hid in the closet and whined softly.

“Here I was, for five months, waiting for you to come back! And when you got back, you came back with Jane Foster,” you bit out scathingly.

Those are the words that broke Thor from his silence. He jumped up off the floor and stood before you with heat in his eyes.

“Jane brought me here because I asked her to, I didn’t know how to come back to you,” he hurried out. “I would have returned the moment I came back to Earth, but my people needed me. They needed a leader to talk to the Midgardians in Norway to gain assistance to build and regrow. Jane showed up four days ago. She sought me out when her science things told her the Bifrost opened for a long period of time. I did not seek her out schat.”

Even as the said the word, a broken sob left you. It had been so long since you heard it, you never realized you craved to hear him say it again. He had once told you it meant you were a very rare and good person. Even if it was a compliment that could be given to just anyone, he never used the word for anyone else but you.

He stood. You sat. Both still starring, both with tears in each other’s eyes.

“You weren’t happy to see me,” you cried out, hugging yourself from the bed while you tried to wrap your head around it all. Was it true? Thor had never been one to lie, but you couldn’t help but hesitate to believe him.

Suddenly Thor’s shoulders hunched in on themselves while he ducked his head.

“When I first arrived, I went straight to your rooms to find them empty. Then when you woke and came to the kitchens…I assumed you moved on with Captain Rogers. Seeing your beauty again reminded me that I am unworthy of your affection even if you had not moved on—even after I was gone for so long,” he said quietly.

It was like everything he said was confusing you. Thor sensed your confusion and looked away while gesturing to his middle and grabbing at his hair. “I have grown lethargic and heavy in my time on ships,” he muttered.

A sudden laugh ripped from your chest, a little hysterical in the mist of it all. Thor was implying that he had gotten fat and unappealing? You gestured to everything in the room and then enthusiastically to yourself. The last time you got on the scale a few months ago, you discovered that all the depressed eating had caused you to gain twenty-five pounds. You could notice it when you looked in the mirror. Your clothes were a little tight, so you wore Thor’s clothes more than your own. Self consciously it bothered you some, but not enough to actually care. The only thing you truly cared about was his absence.

Finally, you grasped at your hair that hadn’t been brushed in days. “I’m a mess Thor,” you cried softly. “I have been since you left! Do you see the room? It’s a pig sty. I can’t remember the last time I put on real clothes, I have left the base six times! Not to mention I haven’t stopped eating to fill the void, and I got fat—”

“You are a Goddess,” Thor’s deep voice commanded through the room loudly cutting you off. “You look more radiant now than the last time I saw you.”

The tears that had started to slowly wane suddenly burst forth again, eyes and face hurting from all the energy that went into crying. Being overwhelmed by everything wasn’t helping, by the fact that Thor was here, and he didn’t love Jane. He still loved you then?

He at last approached you, touching your shoulder softly and hushing you. “Please do not cry drottning,” he murmured. “We are together again. I have missed you.”

Without hesitation you crushed yourself into his front, hugging yourself to him as tightly as you could. This only caused you to cry harder. Getting tears and eventually mucus all over his already dirty sweater. It was worth it when his arms came around your shoulders to hold you closer to him.

It was odd, being pressed up against soft giving flesh instead of hard muscles you were used to as you leaned into his hug more. Other than the first note of the difference since the last time he hugged you, you felt completely at ease. This is where you were meant to be, where you craved to be for months. The warmth from him seeping into you. Soon your tears stopped to small hiccups, and you held him closely as you breathed slowly.

“You probably want to shower,” you said pulling away, fingers playing with the ends of his tangled hair, taking in the state of his clothes and feeling the grime in his hair.

“Will you be alright,” he asked, fingers coming up to tilt your chin up to meet his gaze. The first blush you felt in a long time dusted your cheeks at the action.

“Yes,” you breathed out. “I’ll be fine. We can talk more later. I really need for us to talk more later actually.”

He looked a little uneasy as you said this, arm wrapping around your middle again to urge you closer to him.

“Don’t worry,” you smiled softly. “I just what to know more about what happened…and more about Jane showing up. Trust me, I believe what you’re saying but I just feel like we should visit that conversation again. Is that okay?”

“Anything you want to ease your troubles,” he murmured, pressing his lips to your forehead quickly.

After you pulled away, you didn’t attempt to kiss him. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to, but that you felt that there was too much going on in your head to try and deal with the next emotional hurdle. Thor didn’t attempt to kiss you either, which you were thankful for.

“I’ll bring you some clean clothes in a second and set them by bathroom door,” you told him. “Are you hungry?”

Thor paused by the door to the bathroom, looking at his hands on the knob before answering, “That would be nice, I have not eaten today yet.”

You left to go look for clothes for Thor. Thankfully Tony Stark thinks of everything. In the training rooms on the ground floor you found all sorts of workout clothing from shorts, sweats, shirts and sweaters in various sizes. Tony usually kept it stocked in case new recruits were coming into train or simply if someone needed something to change into real quick and didn’t bring anything.

Not sure what size to grab, you selected a couple of different sizes in different styles for Thor to choose from before trekking back upstairs to drop them off to him.

Mjölnir was jumping excitedly and whining the whole trip. The poor dog probably really needed to relieve his bladder and you had stopped his whole morning routine when Thor appeared in front of you.

When you finally made it to the living room, you found Steve sitting across from Jane on separate couches and talking softly. “I’m going to make some breakfast,” you said after making an entrance. “Are either of you hungry?”

Steve smiled up at you and then glanced at Mjölnir, who was almost whimpering. “That would be great Y/N, thank you. Do you want me to take Mew-Mew out,” he asked.

At the word out Mjölnir completely flipped sideways in excitement.

“Please,” you replied in gratitude. “I would appreciate that.”

“Come on boy,” Steve clapped, “let’s go water the flowers.”

Just before you left for the kitchen, you turned to Jane. “You can come with to the kitchen if you want,” you offered, “or you could watch some TV. Not sure where the remote is.”

You were surprised when she smiled and got up to follow you.

It was a little awkward at first. You went about grabbing all the dishes and ingredients you would need to make breakfast while Jane sat silently at the island. Every once in a while, you would get and eyeful of her. She was dressed in jeans and a soft looking knit sweater, her hair clean and brushed with minimal makeup. All the while you were barefoot, in just an oversized Thor shirt and underwear. Messy hair and lack of shower aside, you felt a little gross in comparison to her.

“Sorry that I’m still in my jim-jams. We don’t get a lot of company in the living quarters,” you called out over your shoulder.

Jane laughed lightly, “You’re fine. This is your house, I’m sorry for showing up unannounced.”

A soft smile quirked your lips at her words, at least she was polite.

“Do you have a preference for breakfast? I was planning on making waffles with fruit, sausages and biscuits and gravy—but if you want something else, I can see what we have,” you asked her after putting some more mixing bowls on the counter-top.

“Oh! Thank you,” she said surprised. “I could go for waffles and fruit, that sounds wonderful.”

The conversation died out a little after that, which wasn’t the worst thing. Even if you held no ill feelings for Jane—because why on Earth would you—she still made you feel a little uncomfortable. Did Thor tell her about you, or did Steve?

Soon Steve let Mjölnir into the kitchen before disappearing. The dog was—as always—excited to see you. While he danced around you and tried to get pets, you would nudge him away with your hips because your hands were full of food or ingredients. “Go lay down,” you said with a laugh, “you will get your breakfast after we eat.”

Dejectedly, he walked off to the corner of the kitchen where he slid to the floor and rested his head on his paws.

“It’s really hard to hate you,” Jane said suddenly.

After throwing the biscuits in the oven, you turned to her somewhat shocked. You liked to think of yourself as a blunt person, but Jane seemed to take the cake and then some on the subject.

“Erm, I’ll take it as a compliment,” you asked confused.

“I just mean,” she sighed, playing with her cuticles on her fingers. “That—I—I ended things with Thor a while ago, because I couldn’t handle him being gone all the time. I knew eventually he would want me to move to Asgard with him, and my life was here on Earth. When I noticed the Bifrost open for more than a few minutes I knew something was wrong and flew to Norway without thinking about it.”

Trying not to be rude, you continued to prepare breakfast, but showed her you were listening to what she was saying but nodding and saying ‘okay’ softly.

“That told me I wasn’t over him,” Jane said with a broken laugh. “Who drops what they’re doing and flies across the world for their ex-boyfriend? He was really surprised to see me, and I tried to tell him I missed him—and all he said was that he needed to get back to you.

“I wanted to be jealous, to dislike you just for the fact that he was coming home to you. I was sure that the moment I walked in with him you were going to dislike me too—but, here you are, cooking me breakfast without a care in the world and being a genuinely nice person.”

Knowing that Thor just wanted to get back to you made you feel a little at ease again. The words tried to mold in your mouth before you said them. “Thor told me why you broke up with him,” you said. “I don’t dislike you Jane; you did nothing wrong to Thor. You were honest with him about your feelings and ended things, a very hard but mature decision. Unless you do something to hurt him or hurt our relationship, I have no problem with you at all. You seem like a good person, so I don’t see you doing either of those things.”

Soon she changed the subject and was telling you about some of the research she did. A lot of it was a little lost on you with her technical terms and some of the Astrology. You were more in tune with mechanics so some of what she was saying was familiar, at least with the machinery she uses. In turn you told her of some of the work that you did for Tony. It wasn’t as prestigious as the kind of science she was doing, but you enjoyed doing it.

Most of the food was done when Thor and Steve returned.

Thor looked much better than before. His hair was clean and brushed smooth, pulled into a bun at the base of his skull like normal. The beard that adorned his face was completely different than what you were used to. Simple braids pulled the beard together and down his neck.

Without thinking, you started to put a few waffles on a plate and placed it in front of where he sat at the island and then slid the bowl of mixed fruit to him. In return you received a small smile and nod of thanks from him. Soon he started to repeat his story about Asgard and traveling with his new companions to Steve and Jane.

Eventually his story melted into the here and now, discussing what they had accomplished so far in New Asgard and what, yet they still needed to do. Thor then started to lose enthusiasm for what he was saying, his words getting quieter and forlorn.

“When I return,” he sighed, “I must go trade with the people of Norway to acquire more food and supplies for Asgard. I only was able to break away after there was enough for a few days.”

That means he needs to go back soon. Maybe in a day or so it seemed. Dread started to fill you again at the thought, he only just came back to you—

“When do we need to leave,” you asked, pushing your half-eaten plate away.

“You will come with me,” he asked quietly. Thor’s hands had risen to rest on top of one another on the counter, fingers clenched together tightly.

“Of course,” you said easily, anxiety rushing through your veins at the thought of being without him again. “I’m sure if we ask Tony, we could borrow a quin-jet to get there faster. I don’t own a lot of stuff to pack so if I start now, I could get everything together by the end of the day. Just my clothes and some odds and ends, the furniture is Tony’s anyway. Whatever I can’t take right away I can come back for in a few weeks. We could leave tomorrow morning—”

“You want to move your things there,” Thor asked with surprise lacing his tone.

You had already gotten up and was bending over to lay a plate of food on the floor for the dog. Mjölnir bound over happily to start licking at the sausage gravy.

“Yeah,” you sighed standing back up. You had already committed yourself to moving to Asgard with him, what was the difference to moving to Norway to be with him. At least you would be on the same planet and could still call your parents. “I’ll need to notify Tony that I’m going to have to stop working for him, but I think—”

“You will leave here and come live with me in New Asgard,” Thor interrupted you again.

A little laugh escaped you at his antics. Although you were still an emotional wreck, you wanted to do everything you could to give your relationship with him a fighting chance. “Yes Thor,” you said. “If that is where you need to be, then I’m going to be there too.”

Thor’s arm slipped behind your back and pulled you down to settle across his lap. Warmth seeped into you from all around, his arms coming to squeeze you tightly to him. “You do not realize how happy this makes me schat,” he murmured. “I did not want to leave you again.”

It happened pretty fast after that. Tony and you had a long conversation about your work. When Thor had disappeared your work around the base decreased by half, so you felt bad when Tony was trying to offer you a severance pay for leaving. That is what took up most of the conversation at least—you fighting on taking the money. Other than that, you packed up all of your clothes and the little odds and ends you had collected over the years.

Even though you had said that you and Thor could leave that next morning, Thor insisted that you have another day to see the rest of your friends and bid them goodbyes. Not all of them were around much anymore, having moved out or going on more and more missions. With every teary hug and promises to call often, you reminded yourself that you would come visit and they could come visit you.

It wasn’t out in space, just over the ocean in Norway.

Tony graciously gave you a quin-jet and spent a handful of hours going over the controls and logistics of flying it. Since you refused to take a severance pay, he strong armed you into accepting the ship instead. All he had to do was tell you that it could be used to fly back over to New York in just a handful of hours; and you caved.

It took a little enticing with lunch meat to get Mjölnir to get on the jet. Once on it and you started up the engines, the dog howled in fear and cowered on the floor shaking. Thor held the dog close for the long four-hour flight it took to get to Norway.

He guided you from the co-pilot chair the entire trip, murmuring suggestions on how to handle the ship and directions. After landing, he slowly stood with the large dog in his arms as if Mjölnir weighed nothing and helping the dog to the floor gently.

The cool air touched your skin as soon as he opened the doors and lowered the ramp. It wasn’t as hot as it was in New York, but a nice spring-like warmth. The view took your breath away.

Bright green hills and cliffs lined the shoreline, making the ideal image of a small quaint fishing town. There were a handful of houses that had been built while some were still half built. Some older buildings were already established, but people were milling in and out of them with tools and cleaning supplies. Down the shoreline you found a handful of men and women tossing nets into the water and pulling them back in rhythmically.

Thor walked to the end of the ramp, looking back at you and offering his hand. “Come schat, let me show you our new home,” he said smiling.

Mjölnir barked, taking off down the ramp in excitement to get off the ship.

Suddenly you felt a little weightless. Maybe it was a giant combination of the weight of everything falling off your shoulders at once, the beauty of New Asgard, Thor finally here with you—offering you a new life with him.

The previous night you both stayed cuddling in bed whispering back and forth—the talk you wanted to have about what happened when he was gone. There were some more tears as you explained how heartbroken you were to see Jane there, that he was gone and how you were extremely happy to be home and so overwhelmed. Thor answered all your questions about his time gone and his thoughts on Jane. After the talk you felt more assured in his feelings for you, and lack of romantic feelings for Jane.

You were still a little overwhelmed, but as you slid your hand into his and took the first few steps off the jet—every breath you took was fresh and exhilarating. All while leading you, he pointed to some buildings and explained what he had planned for them. Numerous Asgardians waved in hello when you both passed.

After a time of walking he stopped in front of a white house with a lot of windows. It rose up slightly higher than the rest of the houses on a smaller hill, one large window facing the water. It looked partially finished. There was no roof, but different patched colored tarps covering the top.

“Some of the people of Norway offered to help build with us. The wood and materials that they gave us—we were unaware how to construct with it,” he said. “This…this in our home. It is not finished, but—”

“It’s perfect,” you interrupted him, smiling brightly. “It’s so beautiful here.”

“No drottning, it is perfect now that you and Mjölnir are here with me,” he murmured pulling you close. The words caused you to smile and run your fingers through Mjölnir‘s fur. Thor had grown to care for the dog as much as you had, it warmed you to know he was accepting of your fur baby.

“You never told me what drottning means,” you said teasingly he gazed down at you.

Thor laughed and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “It is a term of endearment; it translates roughly to ‘my queen’.”

“And schat,” you asked more breathless than anything.

“My treasure,” he murmured before pressing a quick kiss to your lips. “Come, I want to show you the view of the water from our home. We can make it our bedroom if you want.”

Previous Chapter << Part 11: French Toast

Next Chapter >> Epilogue: Peanut Butter

Taglist:

@thorfanficwriter @lancsnerd @jennie22feona @captainamericasbeard @ruthoakenshield @jumpingmanatee @alyssatjuhhh @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @thebitchiestnerdtowalktheearth @wonderlandfandomkingdom

#Thor Odinson #thor x reader #thor fanfiction #thor fanfic #thor #reader insert #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #of food and comfort #thor x y/n

30 notes · View notes

flossy2003 · 4 years

Text

This post might get a bit long and rambley, so just be prepared for that 😂😂😂😂-

This is basically going to be a post about how The Captain and Cassandra’s relationship is possibly one of the best parent-child relationships in Tangled The Series, in my opinion.

For starters, the fact that they are not blood related is brilliant, as for years and years, fairytales and Disney themselves, in their early days, with characters like, The Evil Queen and Lady Tremaine, pushed the message that only a birth parent can care for a child, which isn’t true. The Captain, clearly, deeply cared about Cassandra and treated her as if she was his own flesh and blood. He was strict, stern and made several mistakes in his parenting techniques but was never once cruel or horrible to her, like Gothel was. He never had bad intentions for her and loved her dearly, which she did in return.

Next, he took her under his wing and raised her as his own child, despite her troubled background. He didn’t care that Gothel was her birth mother, he took her in and loved her all the same.

He was also willing to go to great lengths to protect her. I’ve noticed this in Cassandra vs Eugene the most, when he finds out that the Stabbingtons have captured Eugene and Cassandra.

When the Stabbingtons take the bag off Cassandra’s head, you can see the shock and fear in both the Captain and Cassandra’s eyes and it’s honestly quite upsetting. What makes it worse (although not surprising), was that the Stabbingtons were willing to split the family up and use Cassandra to get back at the Captain, once by threatening her life in front of him, and the second by planning to hold her hostage for ransom. At that moment they’re both fearful of losing each other.

Also, as you can see by the screenshots, below, he has to think about his decision to fire his weapon, realising that doing so, could put Cassandra in danger, especially after the threat the Stabbingtons had just made: “I would call your men off, if you know what’s best for your precious daughter,” all the while, holding a halbert to her.

He could’ve fired and restrained the Stabbingtons, but he didn’t, because he didn’t want to lose Cassandra, (I’ll expand more on that, later.)

Also, when Cassandra is being dragged away, you see the Captain react-

He looks worried, at first but quickly gets angry.

Angry that his daughter has been put in danger by two men, he already had a hatred for in the first place. To me his face just screams: “you’ve crossed a major line!”

Finally when, Cassandra and Eugene are rescued by Rapunzel, he asks her if she’s ok and you can hear the worry in his voice and see it in his face.

There are so many examples of him being protective and worrying about Cassandra’s safety, but this one is the first one we see and honestly it’s pretty hard-hitting, from his point of view. He was literally faced with the near loss of his child and couldn’t protect her, without the possibility of injuring her in the process.

Ok, the next point I’m going to make is just going to be a quick one, before I go more in depth, talking about season 3 and all the Gothel stuff.

This comic, Guardian’s day is so sweet and wholesome and I love it so much!

It’s about Cassandra feeling bad because she has only ever made homemade crafts for her dad for Guardian’s day and wants to buy him something, because she thinks the things she makes are rubbish. But by the end of the comic she finds out that her father actually loves what she makes and has kept every single one of them, throughout the years.

It’s just so adorable and I wanted to talk about it real quick.

Anyway, I think I now need to address everything that happened in season 3 and how, for me, it is one of the key factors of making their relationship one of the best in the show. .

To start with, we learn that, the Captain never told Cassandra about her birth mother and although, I think he should’ve, because if he had, then none of season 3 would’ve happened, I can understand why he didn’t.

He didn’t want Cassandra to grow up feeling different or guilty for being Gothel’s daughter. He didn’t want her to feel as if she had to own up for her mother’s actions. Also, I can imagine that he was afraid that if the word got out, then Cassandra might’ve been treated terribly by the public, since they wouldn’t like sharing the town with their Princess’ kidnapper’s daughter (try saying that 10 times fast 😂). So I can understand why he didn’t tell her.

But that just begs the question of, when was he planning to tell her, if at all? Surely he must’ve planned on telling her at some point, or was he planning on just shielding her from the truth forever, scared that it could hurt her? Again, I can understand, but, Cassandra still has the right to know and there are ways that it could’ve been broken to her gently, earlier in her life, instead of Zhan-Tiri, dropping it on her, when she was already at a low point in her life.

I’m going to talk about Island’s Apart for a little bit too. I remember seeing this episode for the first time, and while it’s not my favourite, it made me feel so bad for the Captain.

In the episode, he admits that he went searching for Cassandra, and when he found her, he could no longer see his daughter, his little girl, in her, he specifically says: “that wasn’t Cassandra.”

In his eyes, she no longer wants or needs him and feels like a failure because of that, so he goes to the Lorb island and decides to start a new, with a version of four-year-old, Cassandra, the Cassandra he adopted, believing that everything was all his fault for not bringing her up properly.

He wanted to start all over again, to try and be a better father to her, not realising that his real daughter was still in there somewhere and needed him.

Ok, before I end this off, I am going to expand on why I think the Captain is so protective and terrified of losing Cassandra.

1. She’s his daughter and in his eyes, will always be his little girl (obviously) (because, dad’s, am I right 😂)

2. I think that he lost his parents at some point and when he adopted Cassandra, it filled a hole in his heart. He was afraid of losing her, because he didn’t want to lose anyone else in his life. (This is just an idea, but it could be possible.)

3. Think about this for a second: the Captain of the guards saw King Fredric and Queen Arianna go through 18 years of suffering, after they lost Rapunzel. He was probably afraid of having to go through that too, if he lost Cassandra, which he did when she had her villain arc in season 3, maybe not as extreme, since he didn’t lose her for very long, but the pain was still there.

To finish this off, I want to talk about the finale and where I think their relationship will expand from here.

At the end of Plus Est En Vous, we see Cassandra and the Captain finally embracing, after all that’s happened, showing that they have forgiven each other for their actions and are ready to move on.

I actually believe that The Captain went with Cassandra on her journey, so that he could look after her, if she was going through emotional trauma from her experiences with Zhan-Tiri, watch his daughter grow into the person she was always meant to be and help her find her destiny.

I think that now that they’re free, out in the world together, they will build a stronger bond than ever before.

Thank you for reading this ramble 😂😂

#tangledtheseries #cassandra #captain of the guard #why did I write this at 3 in the morning?

31 notes · View notes

hellyeahheroes · 4 years

Text

Marvel Teen Romance: Girls Edition Part 1

Solo Boys Edition

Romance is a dying art in superhero comics.

In a medium rife with sexism, the idea of romance becomes tainted with unfortunate cliches in a wave of women’s empowerment. Terms like Damsel-in-Distress becomes less of a person benefiting of a hero’s altruism to ranging from the unfortunate burden of being the one who needs to be saved as a sign of a weakness.

Marvel best example of the romance is Peter Parker and Mary Jane. A romance rife with editorial backlash that never liked the former and did their damnest and are doing their damnest to demean the character for their own ideal partner for Spider-man or Peter. MJ was making grown ass men who resented their wives and marriages project onto Peter. If you want to see an example of the sexism of Marvel, look up Christopher Priest’s opinion of Peter Parker and MJ and then after you pick up your jaw, keep reading.

Now women in Marvel have to appeal to the girls reading them. They have to be strong and strength is often interpreted as independence from men. There is rarely moments of weakness or yearning for these characters. They do not fawn for men or anyone at all and if they do long for anyone, it is for another woman, Today’s Marvel female youth opt for solitude and hyperfocus on the mission because writers refuse to even approach the hormone addled teenaged girl which has been derided as a stereotype. There is no swooning or rarely hint of attraction towards anybody, especially the opposite sex.

The pros are that stories are more varied and page space is not wasted on smitten teen girls being smitten on useless boys.

The cons is that it creates an archetype of stereotypical strong independent female in which their only characteristic is that they are strong and/or independent which contrasts men because men can be more varied in attitude and personality while women writers opt not to even engage in romance while also not addressing the character’s sexuality. They are not allowed to be young or be emotional.

Also, because of classism, the superhero woman opts for her equal in terms of status and usually only date men or women who are also superheroes while men, again are more varied. Men in romances with superheroic women are never powerless and usually fill an utility role. There is a need for them to want to help a perfectly capable woman. There is only one teenaged hero with a solo and a non-superhero partner and even then most of the male partners who aren’t have to be of use to the heroine in their vigilantism. They cannot just have their own lives separate from what the hero is doing like a Mary Jane Watson. They have to be hyper-competent and be apart of the heroines lives. Again, it wouldn’t be a problem if it weren’t for the implied sexism/classism. Spider-Gwen does not get the same fantasy as Peter Parker(will get to that later).

On a side note: To Mayday fans, Anya fans, Pei from Iron Fist fans, Moon Girl fans, Squirrel Girl fans, and any girl that I excluded from this post, they will definitely be in part two. I am sorry, but I just couldn’t. You will see how long this post is and this isn’t malicious on my part, but I hope you understand and forgive me. I mean I have to go back and update the boys edition. Cut me some slack. Anya and Pei were part of the original draft but shit got too long and it didn’t feel right to include them as a footnote.

Here are Marvel’s main solo teen women, romances, and romance history:

Kate Bishop a.k.a Hawkeye

Gender: Female

Orientation: ...Questioning? We’ll just say questioning

Love Interests: Johnny Watts aka Fuse(current), Noh-Var, Tommy Shepherd, Eli Bradley(retconned), Clown

We are starting with Kate Bishop because she is the closest to a modern woman’s love life. She has a cult following made of predominantly white women because Kate is empowered white girl embodied. And her dating life is modern in that Kate is one of the few women in Marvel that has relationships like men and is never shamed for it. Of all the women on this list, Kate was never not the focus or seen as codependent one. In fact, she is the capable and strong personality in her current relationship with Johnny Watts. He plays the supporting role for her. However varied Kate’s romantic history is, it is the prototypical love life of a teenaged Marvel woman. Every single one of her romances are by definition superheroes or vigilantes or villains. She does not have ordinary men in her life.

Now you are probably thinking that Kate is a team character. You would be right, but I think I speak for all Kate fans is that she is exceptional in that she can and has held books before alone where her other Young Avengers can’t be assed to have an appearance. And I like Kate. She is my favorite white girl in Marvel. So here we go.

And no, I am not going to consider her rapists in Central Park as love interests, but I will say that her relationship with men and her overall independence from them even while she is in relationship with them is because of this assault. There...I said it.

Eli Bradley aka the Patriot. Kate and Eli started off from a rocky place. Kate wanting to be super strong and independent rich girl and Eli being super prideful and somewhat sexist. Eli wants to fulfill his grandfather’s legacy and feels that he has to immediately live up to him no matter what probably did not like Kate upstaging him, and Kate mistook what Eli was saying as sexist. It wasn’t that Kate was a girl that was the problem. It was that Kate was a rich white girl who chose to make rescuing herself and then making he and the Young Avengers look like idiots that was the problem. So they argue and fuss at each other all of the time.

Kate misinterprets Eli’s reluctance to have her and Cassie on the team as sexist when in fact, the team was constructed for a specific purpose and have a specific roster pool to draw from. Cassie and Kate just aren’t in it.

So Eli and Kate take each other apart and both take shots at each other.

So Kate and Eli have this tic for tac relationship which is something Kate seems to relish in while Eli seems to be abrupt with her about it.

And also, the two both have Strong Type A personalities. They both want to be the leader of the Young Avengers.

But during a fight with Kang the Conqueror, both Kate and Eli reach an impasse.

Kate’s and Eli’s relationship starts to develop a bit and after some revelations about Eli come to the surface and the Avengers disband the Young Avengers only for the team to regroup out of spite of the Avengers. They start recruiting again, then come across Tommy Shepherd, Billy Kaplan’s brother and son of Wanda Maximoff.

And Eli doesn’t like him because Tommy seems to be a little too okay with murder and wanton acts of violence.

Kate and Eli start getting along to an extent. Eli is more of a stern individual and cuts Kate no slack. But Kate often challenges him.

And eventually they go on a date.

Uh. Excuse me. Not a date.

After getting jumped by Ronin on their Central Park, Not-A-Date carriage ride, Kate tried to calm him down after a disastrous evening.

So enough about Eli, let’s move on to Tommy.

Tommy Shepherd is the prototypical fun bad boy. He doesn’t challenge Kate to be better. He dares her to keep up. So after Kate loses her bow and arrow to the original Hawkeye aka Clint Barton in a shooting contest, she goes home feeling ashamed. Eli, still raw from their not-a-date, starts relentlessly criticizing her. Kate did not need that on-top of her embarrassment so she told Eli to fuck off and walked away. Tommy, being less stringent than Eli, talks to Kate. Tommy flirts with Kate, in front of Eli, and they both decide to go out. Tommy was not there for Eli’s and Kate’s fight so he has no idea what is going on. Kate catches him up to speed and well...

Tommy is such an awesome dude when he isn’t murderous. So Kate and Tommy break into Avengers manor and steal back her bow and arrows.

Fun and exciting, bad boy.

The two steal back her bow and arrows and it was a fun date.

Now this triangle business and Kate’s indecisiveness plays a role because eventually she starts teaming up with Clint Barton and she witnesses first hand how disastrous his love life is. But I’ll get to that later. But just to be clear, she doesn’t choose to be with either, Tommy or Eli.

Eli quit the Young Avengers after accidentally having a role in the death of Cassie Lang? It’s confusing. So with Eli’s departure, Young Avengers disbanded and thus Kate decided to team up with the other Hawkeye, Clint Barton, when the other members decided to quit.

Kate Bishop takes up an apprenticeship role under the tutelage of Clint and she helps him out on missions from time to time. There is some hint that Kate is somewhat attracted to him, but she realizes that is nasty and Clint is like twice her age. Clint, however, likes teaching her because Kate is a fast learner.

So this pairing of the Hawkeye’s became somewhat of sensation that propelled Kate to mainstream attraction. The crime busting duo became the bane of low level street thugs all over Brooklyn. But under his mentorship, Kate also saw how much of a wreck Clint’s life was. More specifically, his love life.

Clint was dating Jessica Drew at the time. But he slept with Penny, some woman he rescued, while he was dating her. Natasha is more of his work wife in a sense, you’ll have to ask Hawkeye fans if they ever dated, but she is more concerned with the fact that Clint robbed some gangsters and got arrested. Bobbi was Clint’s ex-wife...well at the time of the comic, she was his separated wife. She wants to find Clint to finalize their divorce. So Kate is dragged into this mess.

Kate witnesses what a mess Clint’s life is, and she gains one fear: to not be like Clint Barton.

Fast forward to the Young Avengers relaunch.

Kate wakes up from a booty call. And it is not some ordinary booty call. No-nonono.

Enter Noh-Varr. Like the narration says, she met Noh-Varr and he collectively kicked all of the Young Avengers asses. And I guess she is over that now and Kate and he hooked up. Noh-Varr is the silly himbo. Stupid but pretty as heck to look at.

It is hard to classify what she and Noh-Varr were because to me, they weren’t really an item as he was more like a one night stand that became a multiple night stand... Good dick is hard to find so if you find one, might as well hold on to it for awhile, am I right ladies?

Anyways, I couldn’t tell you the plot of Young Avengers 2015 because...even I was confused by it. Regardless, we are here for Kate’s love life.While facing the final...whatever the fuck they are fighting, Noh decides to confess to Kate.

And telling Kate that he was semi-seeing someone else on the side kind of drove the relationship to hell.

Anyways, we moving on. Also, America suggests something to Kate.

Another oddity in Kate’s love life is that most, if not all, of her lovers are bi. Juries out on Eli(and will probably stay that way), but both Johnny(we’ll get to him) and Noh-Varr, her only serious relationships, are bi and are attracted to each other. The irreverence that Kate has for dating should be dating because she rarely pontificates on her partners. There is no, “I wonder what X is doing.” It is all business, and rarely play. Also, we are not suggesting that women dating exclusively bi-women are bi by association. We are saying that Kate Bishop isn’t as straight as she thinks she is.

What she fears is having a love life like her mentor, Clint Barton: A fucking mess. Kate is the only young woman who has had multiple booty calls and has pulled the, “Well last night is fun, but you got to get the fuck up out of here” on a dude.

And by doing this, she is acting as self-destructive as Clint who is notorious for doing the same thing. Kate declares that she doesn’t need attachments and that the above boy was too clingy for wanting to hang out after knocking boots. He was a distraction for Kate. Miss America points out the irony of her saying something like that.

On top of everything, Kate decides to get away from Clint and heads out to Los Angeles to start a detective agency. She gets up to some high class hijinx there and in the midst of the chaos, she meets a boy.

Johnny Watts.

What I like about Johnny is that he isn’t overstepping of Kate. He is lax and is perfectly willing to step aside and let Kate be a hero and not let his male ego get wounded by the fact that his girlfriend is a kick ass superhero. Johnny also unlike Eli can keep up with Kate’s wit so their banter/flirtation is quick and rapid.

He is also supportive and understanding.

They hook up after Kate defeats Madame Masque again.

Johnny seems like a normal dude, right. There is nothing strange about him at all. So what is with the above preamble if the first Marvel heroine you mention has a normal boyfriend? Well...

Johnny absorbs the matter of anything he touches and can briefly become the item. It ranges from concrete to even vibranium. Why vibranium? Well he has a nose ring that is made of vibranium. Why does he have a nose ring made from a precious Wakandan resource? Johnny and his sister are Wakandan exiles and they kept a piece of vibranium as keepsakes.

So Johnny has powers like all of Kate’s other boyfriends and exes. When Kate forms the new West Coast Avengers, she enlists her boyfriend as her first recruit. He has issues adjusting into being a superhero, but he is learning. He takes up the alias as Fuse and he and Kate continue with their relationship without much trepidation. Until Noh-Varr comes back.

And Noh-Varr being a himbo doesn’t necessarily jive well with the relationship because Noh-Varr has no tact or grace. He is also really attractive and a pretty boy.

And then it dons on Kate that her boyfriend and her ex are attracted to one another.

All and all, Kate is the standard for super-heroine women in Marvel in.

Miss America Chavez

Gender: Female

Orientation: Lesbian

Love Interests: Ramone Watts(current),Lisa, Ultimate Nullifier

Yes, she is lesbian. Ultimate Nullifier was simply an experiment that she didn’t like after the first kiss. Like one kiss with a guy and she said, “umm nope.”

She is lesbian. She likes girls and from the general reception of the character, girls like her too.I am not going to bother covering her relationship with Ultimate Nullifier because who the fuck really cares about that guy?

I can’t tell you much about Lisa other than America isn’t necessarily a good girlfriend.

Well she isn’t? Like there was this whole convoluted thing that made America break up with Lisa for a reason I can’t really explain and the narrative tried to paint America as in the right when she was a shitty girlfriend. I just wanted to put Lisa in there because I like to confirm that she existed and still doesn’t have a last name.

Anyways, on to the good shit.

America and Ramone met through mutual colleague and also shared friend, Kate Bishop. Kate was dating Ramone’s brother and America kept Kate around so Kate could ogle her. Anyways, Ramone was trapped in a collapsing building and America saved her and caused Ramone to have what could only be described as gay panic. So naturally, the two decided to date because...well have you seen Miss. America Chavez. If one could describe her, she would be the one woman “reason why I’m gay” justification for women.

That image alone just created like 10 lesbians.

Anyways, the two are just cute. Like I can’t even describe how the two are just cute around each other.

But no one wants to be like deadweight as Nero from Devil May Cry can attest to. So Ramone, like her brother, turn out to be exiles from Wakanda.

And then this happened.

And Allow was born. So after Alloy rescues America and the West Coast Avengers, let’s just say that America was very excited about the new development that her girlfriend has powers just like her.

And they lived happily ever after and are still the item until this day.

Laura Kinney aka X-23 aka Wolverine

Orientation: Indecisive

Love Interests: Julian Keller, Warren Worthington(ewwwwww)

tw: sex trafficking, rape, and incest mentions

I don’t know what I expect out of franchise spawned the likes of Wolverine being with anybody or the idea that Wanda and Pietro practicing incest or Professor Xavier being in love with Jean Grey. I honestly don’t know why I hoped they would handle this character with tact as she is the most popular X-character made in the past 20 years. God forbid I expected that the franchise that insisted on Emma Frost mind raping Cyclops and then being an item would actually think about Laura Kinney as a character and not do some inappropriate shit...but here we are.

Let me explain the life of one Laura Kinney in the Marvel comics and why everything about her being in a relationship with a man who is the same age physically as her father is a bad idea. We all know about the X-periment and how she was the gender flipped clone of Wolverine...or is she her biological daughter? Who the fuck knows or even cares, let me get to the point.

Laura Kinney is a victim of sex trafficking. She was pimped out and did some weird dark shitty shit and yes, it involved her claws. So her history with sex in general should be handled tactfully. Her life has been nothing but violence and death and dismemberment. And I am not saying that Laura should not find love. I am saying that a girl like Laura should not be with older men, but what do I know. It seems the X-men franchise seems to be looking for writers whose only criteria is that you have to have a creepy fascination with Kitty Pryde.

Granted, Julian Keller aka Hellion had a relationship with Laura that allowed her to express emotions like a teenaged girl should be allowed to express without the influence of an older men. Julian’s relationship was born of resentment because Laura was not a real mutant, whatever that mean to fear that Laura was nothing but an assassin to admiration after witnessing how much Laura endured. Notice how Julian could never push or influence Laura to do things that she did not want to do.

Warren is the same fucking age as Cyclops. If you are going to make a stink about Rachne being with Josh Foley, then why in the fuck is this 30+ year old man with a fresh faced teenaged abused girl?

I’m just saying that any character with rape and/or sex trafficking as their backstory should be handled as gracefully as possible in regards to romantic interests and sexuality. Her being with Adam is not handling gracefully.

Gwen Stacy aka Ghost Spider

Gender: Female

Orientation: ?

Love Interests: Peter Parker, Harry Osborn, Miles Morales, ...fuck it, I am going to go ahead in put Mary Jane Watson in here

Okay.

“But, Gwemj isn’t canon so why would you put that in here?”

First off, Spider-Gwen is the quintessential pinnacle of everything that is wrong with how Marvel deals with superhero romances with solo women. There is no reason why in the 4 years as of this writing, that you have yet to introduce a love interest that is Spider-man viable in the 50 issues she has starred in. There is no excuse that her first kiss was not with anybody within her supporting cast, but with another established hero. Spider-Gwen, you have an underdeveloped supporting cast and setting, and it fucking shows.

Second, it was clear that the original plan was Gwemj, but Gwen Stacy became popular and marketable so they derailed the sapphic train and landed on the most forced and out of theme romance in recent comic book history. Like for fuck’s sake, she is Spider-man for girls and women. You know how many superheroes Peter Parker dated, 3-4 if you count Kitty Pryde and every time it never worked out because they could never relate to Peter Parker.

That is the fucking point, Marvel/Latour/McGuire although the last person isn’t the biggest offender.

Giving Gwen a superhero love interest negates the fucking point of Spider-man. It is against theme and it is really sexist as shit because every male hero has a love interest that is not superpowered. Not a one woman can hook up with a non-powered boy if they are in hetero romances.

Miles Morales and Gwen Stacy is the most cynical pairing shill that I’ve ever seen.

The fact of the matter is that Gwen has the most chemistry with Mary Jane and most of her romances have been bouts of forced heterosexuality. And it is not that she is possibly heterosexual that is the problem. It is that you refuse to develop said romances and try to make sure the man involved is just as empowered as the girl for no fucking reason.

It’s pure laziness.

Anyways, it’s hard to pindown where I should start this because the comic creates Gwen’s origin out of flashbacks so it’s hard to figure what came first.. And I guess it begins with Peter.

I’m working with assumption in trying to nail down the chronological order. Okay, Peter noted Gwen’s music in her headphones and identified it. Gwen was on that Neku Sakuraba tip except without the angry at the world attitude so she was this disheveled girl who listened to music openly and isolated herself from cast. But she wasn’t bullied or anything like Pete.

She was a cool loser.

So after their shared taste in music, Peter and Gwen become fast friends, but it is hinted that Peter had a crush on her and it more than platonic feeling for her. Anyways, Gwen’t and Peter’s duet became a 3 man band as they added residnet outcast, Harry Osborm to the crew.

Now do the math, two boys and one girl.

It is obvious that both boys have a crush on the one girl. Now it is hard to discern Gwen’s feelings for either of the two boys because there isn’t a lot shown. But the main takeaway is that Peter was broken down by bullying. He channelled his inner Vergil because he wanted power. This universe’s Peter is the Peter we see in Ditko’s early Spider-man run without the powers and none of the growth he received later. Harry, on the otherhand, is well aware of how broken Peter is and resolves to not be like him while hoping to move in on the cute blonde.

“...They won’t break me like they broken [Peter]”

So Peter is not exactly the kid you’d say after a school shooting, no one would expect that he was the culprit. I’m pretty sure no one at Midtown would be surprised. So guess what sends Peter over the edge?

No surprise here that Peter Parker without the character growth of becoming Spider-man becomes an incel asshole.

Anyways, some time passes and Prom happens. Guess who is going stag?

No that is an actual question because I am not sure who went with whom. Did Gwen decide to go out with Harry? Are they dating? Who the fuck knows because there isn’t a lot to infer from these panels.

Judging by the clothes, Gwen isn’t dressed up or gussied up. She is wearing a white T-shirt at Prom. She doesn’t appear to be with anybody. Harry isn’t with anybody either and Peter definitely isn’t. And this is why when you make a character, you start at the beginning. This shouldn’t be background or filer. This is essential information because I assumed that we had a love triangle going on with two wayward boys pining after the same girl. It’s clear that Harry has a crush on Gwen. It’s implied that Peter had a crush on Gwen as well with his reaction and calling Harry a traitor.

It’s really unclear and it is a situation that defines Gwen’s story and stories going forward. We really don’t know what happened at prom and the first Midtown attack. We really don’t know exactly what led to Peter turning himself into the Lizard. There are inferences and implications, but nothing is concrete. This series is built on the idea that Peter Parker’s death matters without giving a reason why to care about Peter Parker. And just to remind you that while the Night Gwen Stacy Died didn’t focus on Gwen Stacy, you had nearly a hundred issues to care about her prior to her death. Gwen is not just some iconography and symbolism. She was an actual character. A bad one, but nonetheless, she had more than a few pages to get represent a character.

So after Prom was a murderous incel Lizard shitshow and Gwen stopped and accidentally killed the Lizard(Key word: accidentally because it’s not clear if Gwen killed him because it was weirdly effective punch and she toyed with him like she usually does), Spider-Gwen goes on a severe depression and isolation streak and doesn’t talk to anyone ever...possibly. Again, it is the case of Gwen’s origin not exactly being clear. We don’t know much and what we are shown was presented through flashbacks.

Until she gets wrapped up in Spider-verse and she meets several Spider-folks with most of them looking like her Peter Parker and falls into a depressive episode realizing that maybe her Peter should have been the one who was bittem and she was destined to be miserable all of her life. Following a confrontation with a grief-stricken 616 Peter Parker stating that she isn’t ‘his’ Gwen, Gwen just doesn’t want to deal with any Spider-men that look like Peter Parker or are Peter Parker. And also, she is still being tormented in her own universe by a smear campaign that unfairly places the blame of Peter’s death on her shoulders. Because of said campaign, Gwen is a fugitive and her enemy, Matthew Murderdock, is extorting her for her own powers that only he has access to and her father’s life in exchange for working with him.

In summary, Gwen is stressed and is at a breaking point. She is miserable and facing an existential crisis that every adaptation of herself has died or suffered horrible consequences and questions if she is incapable of experiencing happiness. She has lost her Spider-power and has to rely on her sworn enemy to have them. And her whole city sees her as a murderer.

Enter Miles Morales.

I already explained why Miles was in E-65 in the previous post. I don’t need to repeat myself. But I can elaborate on why Miles was attractive to Gwen Stacy. For one, he is a Spider-man that doesn’t remind her of Peter Parker. So she isn’t feeling guilty and at least he isn’t a literal anthropomorphic pig. Two, Miles is around her age. This is debatable because in spite of what Bendis says, Miles was 15 at the time of this arc and he clearly aged Miles up so Gwen didn’t look like a cradle robber for daring to be interested in a kid4-5 years younger than she. And finally, this.

Miles presents the one alternate dimension where she is happy and with children. So combined with Miles being a nice if not horny kid and being overwhelmed with guilt and stress in her daily life. Miles starts becoming more attractive to Gwen. Which leads to....

Okey-doke.

I have made myself clear about how I feel about this ship. If you want a summary, I wish it never existed but here we are.

Anyways, Miles goes back and immediately starts pursuing more interesting love interests and Gwen continues to deal with being stressed. I am going to stop it here. But I want to posit a theory.

Spider-Gwen was supposed to be with Mary Jane or EmJay. For the longest, the tension between Mary Jane and Gwen was honestly the only non-superheroic related with the most tension and description outside of her own father and EmJay seemed focused on Gwen to an absurd degree. It wasn’t until it was reported that Marvel pinned Gwen for her popularity that they didn’t want to damage her marketability so being a lesbian superhero in Marvel is kind of a no-no in terms of profit. But GweMJ was and still is a popular ship so to appease fans, Latour basically threw MJ at Glory in a random and spontaneous manner if only to appease those fans.The issue is that Glory and MJ aren’t super prevalent in the book. I mean Glory Grant isn’t even that important to Spider-man mythos as a whole. So it became a case of pandering to the base while simultaneously throwing the lesbians away.

That is all I am going to say on this.

Kamala Khan aka Ms Marvel

Gender: Female

Orientation: Heterosexual

Love Interests: Bruno(current), Kamren, Dante Pertuz, Red Dagger, Miles Morales(one-sided), Sam Alexander(one-sided)

Ms. Marvel is a teenaged love story with superheroes. It is a romantic literature geared towards Muslim women or girls. It’s true. And I have earned the right to fucking say it. This is going to feel like I am harping on her religion, but Ms. Marvel’s religion is the core of her character and her story. Believe it or not, it is what makes her a hero. It is her “Great Power, Comes Great Responsibility.” So it’s important that we discuss how Kamala’s religion has to do with her love interests.

Anyways, let’s start from the beginning.

Bruno has had a childhood crush on Kamala Khan. This subplot is intertwined throughout the book. The struggle however isn’t because Kamala is irreproachable. Her religion is the obstacle.

Kamala’s parents would never accept Bruno Carrelli as a viable partner. In fact, homegirl is not even allowed to date without male supervision.

Kamala initially only sees Bruno as a friend. Her best friend. Don’t say ‘friend zone’ because...grow up honestly. Kamala didn’t care for boys, but she does care about her independence. Freedom that her cultural mandated patriarchy did not afford her or at least was regimented. I am not Muslim nor a woman, but I would surmise that a lot of teenaged Muslim girls would rebel or want to rebel against such a strict culture especially when they live in America. Kamala strikes the core of conformity to the West being seen being against the Uniformity of Islam and she struggles with being too anti-Muslim to the point that she risks allowing Islamophobia or allowing the cultural misogyny of Islam to guide her and restrict her. That is the internal conflict or religious conflict that Kamala somewhat addresses and part of it has to do with marriage or partnership.

But what makes Kamala heroic is her religion and what makes her strong is her drive to be free.

“Whoever kills one person, it is as if he has killed all of mankind and whoever saves one person, it is as if he has saved all of mankind.

-the Quran

This part sticks with me because while she is quoting a heroic purpose from her religion’s text, she is using patriarchic language so that that quote isn’t referring to who she is not does it apply to her exactly.

Kamala takes the good of her culture and applies it to a purpose to be a hero while somewhat resenting the implied patriarchal stances. This is why Ms. Marvel took off and became the quintessential Muslim Western Hero and Sooraya sadly didn’t. Kamala addresses the internal conflict that a teenaged Pakistani American would have.

I am going to assume that almost every Muslim American girl knows that exact line Kamala’s mom is saying or at least a variation of it.

“But this has nothing to do with her love interests”

It does. Because if her parents control and has the final approval who she is allowed to see, that man is more than likely going to perpetuate the same cultural traditions onto her.

Feminism is a big thing for Kamala so she respects a man that doesn’t overrule her like her father does his mother and her. Which is why Bruno not being a superhero and also being her sidekick is something that she respects and desires. She wants him to assist her and not much else at first when she gained her powers. Bruno becomes her confidant and also her conduit to being Ms. Marvel.

For the bulk of the first volume of Ms. Marvel, Kamala is oblivious to Bruno’s feelings towards her. In fact, Kamala sees him as part of her aesthetic of being a superhero: he is her sidekick. I suspect Wilson didn’t want to have a girl portray a stereotype that girls constantly think of boys.So she flips it on the genders. It is Bruno whose every interaction has to do with Kamala. He is the smitten boy while Kamala is doing her Shounen hero routine. And it is not that she is oblivious to romance. She is just having too much fun being a superhero.

“Down goes Frazier! Down goes Frazier!”

I know it sounds bad and Bruno is absolutely correct, fellas. There is no such as a friend zone and seeing anyone like that shows that you really don’t care for them.

Apologetic moralizing aside, Kamala just did not see Bruno as anything, but a friend.

So Kamala simply is unaware of Bruno’s feelings. And Nakia kind of reinforces how her family feels about Kamala’s future prospects.It is less about the person and more about about the status.

Enter Kamren

Kamren came with a bit of controversy. The idea is that Kamren was supposed to be a classic villain love interest. The implication was that Muslim men are controlling and white men are liberating.

Normally, Kamala’s father and her brother, Aamir, would be seen as protective if they were in any other culture, but being Muslim and arranged marriages are a well-known and often scrutinized practice in Islam, Willow who is a white Muslim woman, unintentionally opened another can of worms: Commentary on Muslim men being evil.

Look, I am not Muslim and I know the bullet points of Islam. Never read the Quaran, but I understand that the Quaran is supposed to be read in Arabic which given the ideas of the Haj and other Muslim traditions, the religion focuses on tradition and a fidelity to that tradition. Coupled with Western Cultural Imperialism, Ms. Marvel faces the problem of delving into some muddy political waters that in every other book,would just be a typical romance trope.

So I suspect Willow meant no harm because she has been a substantial Muslim feminist champion in a political climate in which that would be an oxymoron to a lot people(Not me, but again, I understand 3rd World Feminism ideals of not seeing feminism in the same lens as the west). You can’t escape the notion that depictions matter and having Bruno, white Italian, being seen as the chief romantic interest while depicting the Muslim one as evil and controlling is going to raise an eyebrow or two.

Kamren was set up as an inevitability cultural and the narrative during this arc was made for the reader to sympathize with Bruno.

Bruno is Emineming this shit and Aamir gives him the cold hard reality.

Up to this point, Kamren has been portrayed as an otherwise decent guy. His only flaw was that he wasn’t Bruno. So of course, the facade of him being the perfect Bollywood male lead begins to come down.

“There’s no reason for you to keep wasting your energy to protect people who don’t believe what you believe.”

That is not an obvious parallel that implies some sort of cultural insensitivity. He is talking about Inhumans, but the cultural parallel to other Islamist radical groups is intentional. So swap Inhumanity with Jihadist Islam, then Kamren’s character becomes even more unsettling.

He uses victim-blaming tactics on Kamala in that she chose to be part of this InHumanist movement the moment she enetered the car with him as if he didn’t zap her body unconscious after he revealed his true intentions. Kamren is a disgusting individual and of course Kamala whoops that ass, but I wanted to point out the unfortunate implications of this romance before I moved on.

Meanwhile Bruno gets an SOS from Kamala and tries to save her. He fails miserably, but at least he has this moment.

This cover encapsulates everything about Kamala’s and Bruno’s relationship in Ms. Marvel Volume One.

And just before the end of the world, Bruno finally spits it out.

So that’s it, right? They are just friends, right?

It’s a love story, you dumbasses. Read this like a teenaged romantic sitcom. This is just phase one.

So Volume 2 of Ms. Marvel kicks off and the world didn’t end. So you think after that awkward but somewhat romantic confession on the rooftop, Kamala and Bruno would hit it off, right?

Brno/s gay? He is with Mike now? Bruno just skyrocketed in popularity with Yaoi fangirls.

Oh, Mike’s a girl and her full name is Michaela Gutierrez ....AND SHE THICK

It’s over Kamala. You lose before you even knew that there was a game. Bruno took that no and went on and found Barbie Ferreira. Bruno figured out what a skinny girl can do that big girl can’t. Answer: Not a goddamn thing! Ahead of his time, really.

Nothing against Mike, she is delightful and honestly, I’m cool with it. Sure, she is destined for failure because she is in the way of the OTP, but goddammit, put both hands up for the big girls.

Kamala takes it personally and decides to give her not-boyfriend the cold shoulder.

Now, if you are a guy and you think Kamala is being a bit of a hypocrite, you are not thinking about this optically. Bruno confessed that he loved her on that rooftop. That is not some shit you just say capriciously especially to your best friend. It looks like on the surface that Bruno just happened to have a backup just in case Kamala said no thus making his confession not as genuine. If you are pursuing someone as much as Bruno was to the point that he confesses love to that person, you don’t have back-ups like that. It makes his confession seem less genuine.

And yes, Kamala is being jealous and she hates that Bruno unintentionally made a scenario to make her jealous. Because if she had known about Mike instead of being blindsided like she was, then maybe she could have managed that moment on the rooftop better, but it feels like to her that Bruno just gave up and it drives her crazy to see it rubbed in her face.

In defense of Bruno, there is no set time when you are expected to get over someone that rejected you after confessing something. And maybe 6 months is too soon for Kamala, but if she had a problem with him being with anyone and needing to be told, then maybe she isn’t being honest with herself.

Also, sidenote to all writers of superheroines: this dialogue about a sub-plot is what you miss out on if you refuse to approach romance.

Anyways, It sucks to realize that you love someone and possibly took them for granted when you see them with someone else.

Oh and now your best friend who confessed his love for you is now having safe sex with another woman(implied).

Yeah, I’d be a little miffed too.

Since Kamala and Bruno are on break, I’m going to touch and go on their situation because at this point, Kamala’s popularity afforded her several appearances and a lot boys from outside her comic book did a double take.In summary, Kamala’s milkshake brought all the boys to the yard.

First is Miles Morales.

Let me just say that Sara Pichelli draws a gorgeous Kamala Khan. I mean she just makes beautiful teenaged girls in general for some reason. The boys are always ordinary looking, but the girls are always trendy or fashionable or bombshells if not all three.

Anyways, Miles has a definite crush on Kamala, but unlike Sam who I will get to later, he is mostly lowkey about it when they interact. He is also a very supportive friend of hers and honestly her and Kamala are like Peter Parker and Johnny Storm.What is weird about it is that there is no on-page formal first meeting between the two. So we never see when or why Miles revealed his identity to Ms. Marvel. I guess there was a miscommunication between Bendis and Waid and Wilson.

There isn’t much on page thoughts from Kamala about Miles as she mostly kept the air living up to be a hero she admires the most, Carol Danvers. Again, Karol is the model of typical Marvel heroine. As far as I’ve read, Carol doesn’t really have much in the way of romance compared to Spider-man who as @traincat would say, is a Himbo(yes, I am going to keep plugging her so you guys can follow her because she is the only Peter Parker expert that I respect). So her and Miles relationship is professional friendship. There was a time when Bruno mentioned something that implied Kamala gushes about a Spider-man’s abs, but that could be just jealousy and it never states which Spider-man he was talking about. All in all, she is not interested in Miles and Miles is interested in her, but respects her too much to act on it. Until Miles confuses an Infinity Stone for a mood stone and spills the beans to her.

Kamala doesn’t return the gesture and it is seen as a way to lightly put Miles down which is okay because he handles it like a champ.

Next is Sam Alexander aka Nova.

He is a little less tactful than Miles about his attraction to Kamala since he immediately hits on her upon first meeting.

Kamala of course thinks he is a brash idiot who shows-off too much.

Sam is persistent in their first meeting, but keeps on hitting the wrong marks and saying the wrong things at inappropriate times.

Sam pretty much can’t take a hint and eventually catches Ms. Marvel in the middle of changing costumes.

*insert the sound of an airplane falling and crashing*

So Kamala and Sam don’t initially like each other as initially, Kamala thought she was being mean to Sam unintentionally and Sam thought he was being idiot. They are both right in their own way, but in the end, Sam sees Kamala as an uptight do-gooder personality and Kamala sees Sam as a reckless jerk. Which has a lot to do with their powersets because Sam is not really meant to be doing street level crime or protection.

And finally we have Dante Pertuz aka Inferno. Now this is one time where Kamala’s interested in a guy and not the other way around or at least it is implied by a third party.

Over the course of Secret Warriors, Kamala and Dante interact and while nothing is initially made out of it, Dante and Quake hook up and Kamala appears to be jealous and annoyed that Dante likes Quake mainly because Kamala does not like Daisy Johnson.

Now we could take Daisy’s word for it, but again, she is kind of a jaded jerk so take it with a pinch of salt. Kamala also denies it.

Ms. Kamala not only shoots down her own ships, but she also bombs other people’s, sheesh.

Now that is done, let’s get back to the main attraction.

Kamala and Bruno and now Mike pretty much go back and forth. Bruno makes kissey faces at Mike, and Mike returns them while Kamala dies a little inside. Bruno is pretty much that guy from the meme who is with his girlfriend, but he keeps looking at the girl they pass and Mike is not a moron and knows that she is pretty much the Cyrano and is conscious of this fact. It hurts because Mike is actually a cool character and her and Kamala become good friends in spite of having the same romantic attraction to Bruno. While Bruno did care for Mike, he could not help but be jealous of the men Kamala encounters as Ms. Marvel such as Spider-man(not sure which).

Point is that this entire comic is a delicious mess and should be read with the same intention as the audience of Dawson’s Creek.

Eventually, Kamala starts to realize that her idol has a huge authoritarian streak and implements her version of Hitler Youth to patrol Ms. Marvel’s turf. And I think this is a something we need to address in regards to Carol. Yes, she is good, but she is socially aware as a....white woman. No really, she does not stop to think as to why people of color would not be too for a system that arrests people because they are foreseen to commit a crime. It’s profiling or in this case assisting in racial profiling. I always found it weird that of all people, a Pakistani first generation born American would idolize her. But that had to do with Kamala’s own self-hatred than anything Carol was.It is like being a Mexican Trump Supporter.

Anyways, Kamala is reluctant, but she joins Carol’s little SS and starts putting people in detention camps. And people are pissed. People like Bruno are pissed.

So Bruno decided to break Josh, who was wrongfully detained on the suspicion of wanting to bomb a school. Kamala goes and tries to stop him from breaking in the detention center.

Well....

Shit.

This haunts Kamala. You see, Bruno and Kamala are close obviously, but for once, it was her ambivalence that nearly got him killed. She wants so desperately to be her own ideal hero that she completely neglected her own support system in pursuit of being accepted by Carol.People like to point to Kamala’s fandom in superheroes as a main characteristic, but neglect to mention that it was Bruno introducing her to the world superheroes that started it in the first place. It was Bruno who introduced her to Ms. Marvel.

Bruno becomes paralyzed on his left side.I haven’t mentioned this, but Bruno is an inventor. He creates things and he is also left handed. So his dream was in jeopardy because he was willing to help Kamala out with her dream. So Kamala feels guilty as fuck.

Bruno decides to take a trip to Wakanda and get some schooling. Thus making Bruno the first white boy to be legally allowed to learn in Wakanda.

I’m as surprised as you are. I mean Wakanda gives a scholarship to some white boy in New Jersey, but rejects Lunella Lafayette. Ain’t that some shit?

So just to recap on this drama, Kamala turned down Bruno in favor of superheroism. Bruno got with Mike. Kamala becomes jealous, but Mike is cool so can’t bring herself to hate her. Bruno is jealous that Kamala is hanging out with superhero studs like Spider-man. Mike is just tired of being overlooked for an apparently nice girl. Bruno is annoyed that Kamala is siding with Carol’s harebrained George Orwell fanfiction idea over her friends and decides to break everyone out. He gets injured in the process and leaves New Jersey, but not before lashing out at Kamala for not appreciating him.

A fucking teenaged love story, I tell you.

And the only person happy is the gay one. tsk...

So the two are basically apart at this point. Bruno is on a no-speaking terms with Kamala and Kamala is respecting that. This cover pretty much sums it up.

Kamala took Bruno for granted and Bruno resents Kamala for taking for granted. And of course, it did bomb his relationship with Mike because he is resenting a relationship with a girl that is not currently his girlfriend. But with Bruno in Wakanda getting reverse affirmative action, that means Ms. Marvel is taking a break from romance, right?

Kamala’s milkshake be bringing boys from across the ocean.

Okay, this is Red Dagger aka Kareem. Kamala first met Kareem when she visited her cousins in Pakistan with and without costume. Get your head out of the gutter, they met eachother while they were in civillian identity and superhero alias without connecting the two. Lareem eventually moved to New Jersey because he studied abroad from which Kamala quickly deduced that his identity.

So the two have a team-up from which Kamala feels uneeded so she runsaway and attends a private school without anyone, even her parents knowing(and people wonder why I felt that Wilson’s Ms. Marvel read like a Saturday Morning Cartoon). Eventually she comes out of it with absolutely no consequences for abandoning her superhero duty because she felt unneeeded and forcing her friends to fight crime in New Jersey in her stead. Whatever, Red Dagger feels bad for making Kamala feel unappreciated and...

This is nice.

That is right, Kamala, You get over your ex, by getting underneath another person. I mean, girl you bold. You went to your boy interest’s former place of employment and hangout spot, and made out on top of the roof. Extra thot points for making him watch another man’s tongue down your throat.

I’m kidding, but yeah, ackwarrrrrrd.

Of course, Bruno and Kamala talk about that situation and Kamala swears that it didn’t happen to spite him in spite of it happening on top of Circle Q. They eventually reconcile and get back on speaking terms and then...

Mike catches the pair holding hands. Actually not what it looks like. Kamala was helping Bruno up the stairs. So much drama.

Kamala freaks out because she thinks she is a two timing thot because she out here kissing men and thotting and shit. So she runs to her Masjid in hopes to get some spiritual help for her crisis.

So Kamala has a confessional with a third party and surprisingly, he subverts the entire stereotype of Muslim religious patriarch.

He tells her that he laments not teaching young Muslim people in his Masjid to not know how to properly be themselves and not know how to deal with their feeling. He also laments not teaching their parents to not give stern warnings in place of recalling what is like to feel like you are in love for the first time thus giving kids an echo chamber because they don’t feel safe to talk to their parents about this for fear of admonishment.

He tells Kamala to be true to herself unleash the inner thot....I’m kidding.

He tells her to be true to herself and be real with Bruno.

I think this is the most important scene in Ms. Marvel because too many times, media has used the Muslim patriarch as this oppressive tool to admonish Islam as a faith.Is it sexist? Yeah. I can’t lie about that shit, but ultimately it is up to those women who practice it to reform it and modern male muslims tend to be more open to feminism especially if it doesn’t come from white feminism brand that loves to target those cultures.

Anyways, back to the drama, Mike and Bruno break up. Kamala and Red Dagger end things amicably. And now it is a rat race to see how long it takes for Kamala and Bruno to finally hook up because why not? If you have been reading up to this point, you know what is about to happen so I’m going to get straight to the point.

Nadia Van Dyne aka Wasp

Gender: Female

Orientation: Not interested in boys in the very least, but girls who like science....that is a jam so...sapiosexual lesbian

Potential Love interests: Amber

So Nadia Van Dyne is the daughter of Hank Pym who took after the last of Hank Pym’s abused ex-wife, Janet Van Dyne.You should all read the first two volumes of Unstoppable Wasp because Nadia in general was a welcome, wholesome surprise for me. Regardless, I am not just here to gush about Nadia, but explore her love interests, but to be honest, she doesn’t have any so this will be pure speculation and subtext until otherwise stated.

So what is different about Nadia is her disinterest in all things of the opposite sex and her interest in all things about science. She was raised in an Assassin/Scientist school where Nadia was trained to be a super scientist assassin along with other young people. She is a genius, but Nadia developed a love for science. When she was freed from the Red Room, Nadia kept her love for science and sought to make sure all girls like herself could be allowed to express their love for science without a glass ceiling. So she wanted to recruit a science girl gang of sorts.

You could make an argument that Nadia is ace and I wouldn’t argue against you. However, as you can see, it is easy to write off character interactions as that when in actuality they are underdeveloped. I think Nadia is a sapiosexual lesbian because her attraction directly correlates with how intelligent a person the person is. And she hates overly intelligent scientific men like Peter Parker and somewhat resents her abusive father as they kept a glass ceiling in the intelligencia of academic science that chased women out. However, any woman with a compelling interest in science immediately piques her interest. And sure, we could say that this attitude is fostered due to her mission statement of uplifting women of science and girl geniuses in the place of attraction towards said girls, but sometimes we forget that no matter how wholesome Nadia is, she is still a teenager.

This Amber and I’d say that this was the first and only time Nadia exhibited an actual crush on somebody.And sure, Nadia’s innocence could be taken to mean that she was just being her normal bubbly self, I want to take note that she really didn’t ask about Amber’s scientific prowess. She complimented her looks first and then her tattoos and then she saw the Teleforce Tattoo.

But just like the others on this list, Amber could not just be a normal girl. Nope, she had to be a supervillain.

I am just pointing out a pattern. Boys need their love interests to be non-superpowered and not necessarily the physical equal. Girls have to have their romantic counterparts be just as physically capable as them.

Amber aka Seeker becomes a rival to Nadia until they realized that they aren’t necessarily enemies of each other as the real threat was an Ultron merged Hank Pym who wants to take over the world or whatever does Ultron want to do anymore. Who knows?

So Seeker and her AIM Anti-Ultron think tank joined Nadia’s GIRL. And we never knew what happened between her and Nadia.

Riri Williams aka Ironheart

Gender: Female

Orientation: ?

Love Interests: Xavier King, Viv Vision

Okay, Riri is a bit complicated because her story goes as this:

Girl goes to school.

Girl becomes bored with school.

Girl starts acting out because she is bored with school.

Girl gets tested and it is revealed that she is a super genius.

Parents of girl freak out because they realized that by boring her, they could have made the next super-villainess.

Girl is then handled with care to ensure that she is not alone all of the time thinking about her inventions and struggles to make human connections because she is smarter than everybody in her neighborhood.

Girl meets another girl who becomes her best friend.

Girl’s best friend and her super nice step dad die in a drive-bye shooting.

Girl decides to close herself off again and be stuck working on her inventions.

So it makes sense that Riri has problems making connections with people. Or Bendis didn’t really bother to give the girl a romantic interest so he hastily came up with one. Xavier King.

Xavier King didn’t get much characterization until Eve Ewing took over and he went from boy that Riri Williams might have fancied to being Riri Williams’ Ron Stoppable to her Kim Possible.

She is the hypercompetent woman and she is pretty much the silly sidekick. I can’t say that the two are dating or romantically inclined, but I can say that I love their friendship

Xavier doesn’t necessarily become a boyfriend. He has a better role: he is her best friend.

He makes her laugh and most importantly, she feel comfortable around him. Which leads us to someone who isn’t as warm....physically....or is she? What is the temperature of synthezoids?

When Riri joined the Champions, her communication skills continued to be sorely lacking. She kind of kept to herself and really only got along with Nadia, Amadeus, and Viv Vision. Just to be clear, she only got along with the geniuses as Miles was too friendly and somewhat got on her nerves. Kamala simply avoided Riri and gave her space and everyone else except for Miles apparently followed suit. Viv on the other hand doesn’t quite have a grasp on social cues yet.

And the two socially awkward girls connect. Riri and Viv get along quite well. The girls didn’t really advance their friendship until Riri did something monumentally stupid: she tried to take on Thanos.

So after that humiliating shitkicking, Riri pretty much developed PTSD and our favorite synthezoid decided to check on her teammate.

And Viv consoled Riri and the two decide to make Riri a new Iron Man armor.

The end result.

Girls don’t want flowers. They want cool power armor.

Viv and Riri sort of connect more with Viv letting her pet synthezoid hang our with Riri and Riri being the most open to her. And Viv read too much into this cordial relationship between her and Riri...and well...

now I’d like to point out that this isn’t because Riri doesn’t swing that way. On the contrary, it isn’t the gender that Riri had a problem with in regards to Viv. It is the invasion of space that turned Riri off. You have to ask Eve Ewing and Jim Zub, but Riri never explicitly stated that it was orientation incapability that turned her away from Viv. It was because Viv made her feel uncomfortable.

And Viv’s unawareness as to why exactly kissing Riri was distressing to Riri didn’t help.

And this is why Riri actively stayed away from Champions’ related activities for the majority of the run. Viv made her uncomfortable and Riri decided to keep her distancing while still reaching out to Kamala and Nadia.Later Riri was mind controlled by Blackheart who brewed those fears and emotions towards Viv and made those insecurities toxic and violent. So under his manipulation, Riri knocked out Viv and the rest of the Champions.

Riri went for the killing blow, but Viv 2.0(long story) rebooted and took over for the then comatose Viv.

THE GIRLS ARE FIGHTING!

Viv rounds up the remaining Champions and Blackheart mind controls the Champions that Riri took out. There was a final battle and Viv eventually took control of her own body and finally confessed to Riri and apologized.

So after the battle between the Champions and Blackheart, Riri and Viv have a heart-to-heart.

So this is all for part 1 for now. It took forever. I may do some updates on characters because it is a growing and developing story for characters. But this is mainly for Marvel. I don’t know if I want to tread the minefield that is DC love interests because that shit is crazy. I also have been trying to figure out wht to do with inner team romances like X-Men, Inhumans, Avengers Academy, Runaways, and etc. So those Nico and Karolina fans, I am aware of y’all and I didn’t forget. It is just that this takes time. Be patient.

Thanks for reading and I hope you have a great day.

@ubernegro

46 notes · View notes