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#reflection • but i'm still learning to love myself.
graveyardcuddles · 3 days
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Some rambling personal thoughts on Astarion's endings since I can't sleep.
I find myself really loving Astarion's spawn endings and ALL of their variations even more the more I think about them (the exception ofc being the cursed af endings where you don't help him AT ALL and he either gets turned into a zombie or is still being hunted by cazador even after the game, but I'm obviously not talking about those).
I think I, like many others who grew very attached to his character, were left feeling very torn over his initial spawn ending before the added epilogue. Because Astarion being free from cazador and learning to truly relish in that freedom AND use it towards more positive ends is the entire point of his spawn endings. But we don't really get the chance to see that fully paid off in the narrative. One could argue that we do see the very beginnings of it with the graveyard scene and the morning after scene and how he makes several comments about never being a slave again after he kills cazador. But then we get a rather painful reminder of the fact that he's still been forced to give up something he's come to love and cherish so much over the course of your journey. And then we just kinda end on that note.
I definitely didn't regret keeping Astarion a spawn, even after that. But I will admit there was a part of me that still really wanted to see more for him. And that's why I really do adore the epilogue. I know people have their issues with it and say it's unrealistic for Astarion to be so "healed" after only 6 months but I disagree with this take because we're literally only seeing a glimpse of him on one really good, happy night, it's not necessarily a reflection of how he usually is. He could very well still be having days where he struggles, and he almost certainly does. But comparing his previous 200 years to his possible (good) spawn endings, it's not really surprising that he's thriving. Same with the "counterweight" comment. He's not saying the 6 months you've been together completely negates and erases the 200 years of torture. He's saying his freedom and your love have been such a HUGE contrast to what he's had to live through for so long that they feel like a counterweight to the horrors.
I think about how far he has to come for him to actually get to those endings. His bounty hunter/adventurer ending? Amazing! He's relishing in violence and living his best rouge life. Leading the spawn in the Underdark? Speaks so much to his character development that he actually cares enough about them to even attempt such a massive undertaking. Lots of potential for healing of course but also: Holy shit the potential for unhinged shenanigans as well. Going to the hells with Karlach? Incredible! He's not just getting to enjoy tearing up cambions all day he's devoted to Karlach and helping her it's literally so beautiful.
Something else I really adore about his spawn ending vs. his ascended ending is that he burns down cazador's palace in his spawn ending. Burns it to the ground and destroys it for good. Whereas ascended Astarion literally moves into the palace and like...sure you can headcanon that maybe he eventually has a new, even grander palace built. But the mental image of Astarion wandering those halls is just so fucking sad to think about. He could go anywhere and do anything but he's still physically occupying the space that hosted so many horrors and tortures for him. And it to me that just screams that he's still there mentally.
I'll always defend people who like the ascended ending because I understand the appeal of it. As a dark romance enjoyer, I very much understand the appeal of the dark consort ending. And I don't even think this is the "worst" ending for Astarion because there's at least still potential for him (as opposed to the endings where he dies or is still being hunted, which ARE the worst endings for him). But it does feel like a step backward for him. And I think the people who go "Well this is just NATURAL character progression for him he's selfish af of course he would want this" Think too little of him or at least underestimate his capacity to care for others.
Because he very obviously DOES care. And allowing him to get to a place where he can foster that sense of compassion for others is truly so beautiful and so profound to see. I'm someone who is easily moved by fiction already but Astarion's story really touches my heart just because of how rewarding it is to see how far he comes in those endings.
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rainswolfs · 3 months
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steviehcllis · 9 months
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tag drop!
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joycrispy · 9 months
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I wanna talk about The Angel Who Would Be Crowley.
Because I had a certain set of expectations, which got thoroughly trashed in the first five minutes of S2, and my genuine response is, "Oh, fuck, yup. You're right. That's WAY better."
Looking around at GO fandom, I'm not alone in this. So let's talk about it.
Basically, a lot of people (myself included) believed that he was a high-ranking angel, and therefore as chilly and remote as every other powerful angel we'd seen at that point. We pictured Crowley-To-Be as long-haired, regal and imposing --and the fanart at the time reflected this. I'd link some if Tumblr didn't hate links.
Something like this:
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We were collectively drawing on a few things --mostly, Crawly's appearance and general bearing in the Biblical scenes of S1--
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--But also scattered hints of his importance, backed up by conspicuous absences in Heaven and a few profound displays of power. That's all better covered elsewhere, so I won't reiterate the arguments here. All I'm saying is: I think our headcanons were justified.
But it turns out he was this:
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!!!
With his curly little--!!
And his neat white--!!
IT TURNS OUT, he was an angel who squeaked and squealed when he was happy; who flailed his arms around and made explosion noises with his mouth to explain nebulas; who preened when told his stars were pretty. Furfur, who knew him before the Fall, says:
"You used to jump on me back, little monkey in a waistcoat..."
(The use of a diminutive there, 'little'...oh, that fascinates me.)
In a pretty huge subversion of expectations, we're given these glimpses of an angel who was sweet, and joyful, and heart-meltingly silly.
In sum...an innocent.
(Perhaps innocent to a troubling degree.
We see how he troubles Aziraphale, during their first conversation. He starts looking around and behind them, checking to make sure that no one can HEAR the blithe and reckless things coming out of this angel's mouth. This angel who talks like he's never been reprimanded in his life; like it's never occurred to him that anyone would want to hurt him.
Before the Beginning, Aziraphale understood Heaven better than he did. The danger is plainly occurring to Aziraphale.)
So now, we the viewers are in on a cruel joke that Aziraphale has known all along, which is that this --THIS-- is the angel who--
*checks notes*
--did a million lightyear freestyle dive into a boiling pool of sulphur. For asking questions.
...Imagine you are Aziraphale, and everything inside you wants to believe Heaven are the Good Guys, and God is Good and Everything She does is capital-R Right...and now try to reconcile that. Keep trying. I don't think he ever totally managed it in 6000 years.
All this gets further complicated when we learn that, despite all of the above, we were still right. That sweet excitable babby up there?
He WAS a powerful and high-ranking angel.
That much is explicitly confirmed, with significant evidence that he could have been among the mightiest of archangels...
...Who apparently accosted his fellow angels for piggyback rides. And was remembered millennia later by those (now fallen) angels as something 'little.'
What does that tell us about who he was? Is?
Hell, Aziraphale has known to be wary of the archangels (and the judgements of Heaven in general) since before the Fall even happened. He chooses to believe they are Good; he can't fool himself into thinking they are Safe.
Yet he's absolutely certain that Crowley won't hurt Job's children. Enough to stand in a burning building and say to them, "I can't save you, but don't be afraid. I won't need to."
And what reason does he give?
("I know you."
"You do not know me."
"I know the angel you were.")
What does that tell us about who he was? Is?
("The angel you knew is not me."
But how is Aziraphale supposed to believe that, when he can see him all the time?)
tl;dr --yes, this is better. I love the tragedy of it.
'Innocence died screaming' and all that.
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musical-chick-13 · 11 months
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#sometimes it just. hits me. that she's not in my life anymore. and it seems stupid to say that because like. she's not dead.#she doesn't even hate me. we just don't have any kind of relationship anymore. and it's better that way because who I am & what I want was#never going to match up with who she is and what she wanted. but I still lost my friend. in some ways the closest friend I'd ever had#if it was possible for me to have that back and keep it without losing what's left of my mind I would take it IMMEDIATELY#all I ever wanted was to be understood and even though we were so different she ALWAYS made every effort to do that#she was committed to understanding me in a way no one else ever had been and the absence of that is...it hurts a fucking lot#and I'm so tired of reflecting on this experience I'm so tired of being afraid to get close to anyone else for fear this will happen again#and mostly I'm tired of hearing how it's better to love and lose than never love at all because it's REALLY not#everyone keeps saying how heartbreak will help you learn things about yourself but that didn't happen! I didn't learn anything about myself#that I didn't already know! I did NOT gain strength or self-awareness or a better outlook on human connection as a whole. it just hurts!#that was all that happened!! I didn't grow I didn't change it didn't open the door for something better. I just feel like shit.#sorry y'all something unrelated crossed my dash and then I just. started crying.#personal#mc13 is a mess
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onlyhuis · 4 months
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pro bono
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member — lawyer!wonwoo x lawyer!reader genre — smut, fwb to ?? word count — 1.1k synopsis — you and your coworker jeon wonwoo have been working on this case for months. now that it's finally over, he shows you that "for the public good" doesn't mean that he can't be good for you, too. aka: lawyer wonwoo fucking coworker reader after winning a case smut warnings — descriptions of female anatomy, prone bone (the title is a pun hehe), creampie (shocker i know!), spanking, hair pulling, dacryphilia, mirror sex, coworkers fwb!wonu, gratuitous descriptions of how wide wonu's shoulders are just because i can notes — requested by @junhuisms sorry this took so long bff </3 — lots of love to @onlymingyus for proofreading !! — probably some legal inaccuracies bc i know nothing about the law i'm just here to fuck the hot man so go easy on me pls. i really meant for this to be a longer fic but it's been in my docs for almost a year and i've been trying to not pressure myself to write a certain amount so i hope this is still able to live up to your expectations :) i know i've been pretty mia recently but i'm trying to get back into the swing of things so feedback is super super appreciated! hope you enjoy! note #2 — tumbly still hates me and is super finnicky about putting my posts in the tags so i haven't been able to use my regular divider image bc it bugs out :(( i've tried everything i'm sorry but pls lmk how you like this new one!
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you’d been working on this case for months, and it had been one to make or break your career. weeks upon weeks of research, reviewing documents and studying laws to make sure your arguments were seamless.
the upside to all this work, however, was that you got to know your coworker wonwoo better, who you’d been assigned to work on the case with. and by “get to know him,” what you really meant was “get railed every night after work”.
and tonight, after the trial had wrapped up and the court’s final decision had ruled in your favor, you found yourself where you’d grown accustomed to spending all your nights: in his penthouse apartment, and more specifically, in his bed.
the floor-length mirror in his room was one of your favorite things, because no matter what position you were in or how you were angled, you could always see wonwoo. see his broad shoulders, see his muscles flexing, see his abs tensing right before he cums; and god, it drives you crazy.
but it drives him even more crazy as he fucks you into his mattress, watching in the mirror’s reflection how your eyes are squeezed shut and tears stream down your cheeks onto his pillowcase. 
it’s one of his favorite positions, as you’ve learned over the past few months, to have you lying flat on your stomach as he fucks you from behind. with your body at this angle, he can get so much deeper into you, you can practically feel it in your stomach, and with only just a handful of thrusts he can make you fall apart on his cock in a matter of seconds. 
tonight, however, it’s taken less than that to make you cum. the pride of winning the case has him on a high, and he barely even needed to get you stretched out first. but he did anyway, his face buried between your thighs for what felt like eternity until you were pushing his head away and begging him to stop teasing.
you yelp as he twists his hand in your hair, yanking your neck back so you can see your reflection in the mirror.
your eyelids droop heavily, jaw hanging open as wonwoo meets your eyes in the mirror. “you see how well i fuck you, baby?” he groans, squeezing your hip with his other hand. “taking it so fucking well… i’ve fucked you stupid, haven’t i?”
all you can manage is a moan as tears begin to form in your eyes from the pleasure. you whimper quietly, noises muffled by the pillow as you struggle to catch your breath in between thrusts. you can already feel the burn of another orgasm in the pit of your stomach, and wonwoo’s hands pushing down on your lower back are making it impossible to hold back.
“my good girl,” he coos and he lets go of his hand in your hair, barely giving you a chance to catch yourself as your head falls forward and back down onto the pillow. “don’t hold back those pretty sounds. let everybody hear how you like to celebrate your wins. you deserve it, baby.”
“just as much a win for you— as it is for me,” you manage to gasp out. you struggle to keep your eyes open but you force yourself to, determined to see the way his face contorts in the mirror. his eyebrows furrow as he adjusts the angle of his hips, staring down at your ass, back arching into him and forcing his cock deeper with every stroke.
he leans down over you, caging your body with his own, his mouth brushing against the back of your neck. “we both know you did most of the work. and this… this is your reward.”
“wonwoo—” you moan out brokenly as his hands knead your ass roughly, grabbing at your skin and spreading you apart so he can push into you with more force. you clench around him and he curses, his hips starting to stutter.
without warning he pulls out, rolling you over onto your back. you whine at the sudden loss and at the ache in your muscles, but wonwoo just leans forward over your body to kiss you and suddenly you forget everything you were thinking about. you’re so caught up in his mouth on yours and his hands sliding over your body that you barely even notice when he pushes his cock back into you, never breaking away from your lips as he starts out a steady rhythm, gradually building back up to his pace from earlier.
finally he pulls away, sitting up to put his hands on the back of your thighs and push your legs up to your chest. your breath catches in your throat with each thrust, your mind reeling as you concentrate on the feeling of him so deep inside you, pressing against that sweet spot over and over again.
his broad chest is the only thing that fills your vision as you cum, and your brain barely registers the words that leave his mouth in that deep, gravelly voice you’ve become accustomed to hearing nearly every night. 
“taking every inch so fucking well,” he grunts, forehead glistening with sweat. “god, you look so good taking my cock.” his movements become more and more desperate as he starts to chase his high, his fingers digging into your skin so roughly to the point that you know you’ll find bruises there in the morning. 
still breathing heavily, you whine out his name one last time, sending him over the edge right behind you in a matter of seconds. he lets out a guttural groan, continuing to snap his hips frantically as your walls squeeze around his throbbing cock.
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wonwoo chuckles, handing you your purse and helping you shrug your coat on as you attempt to wipe the smudged mascara from your cheeks with your thumbs.
“same time, monday night?” you ask as he walks you down the hall to the elevator, holding the doors open with one hand.
he nods, not even making an attempt to hide the grin on his face. “you keep winning cases like you did today, and you might as well just move in. save you the trouble of calling a taxi every night.”
you laugh, knowing he’s not serious but your heart races at the thought anyway. “you keep fucking me like that, and i might take you up on that offer.”
he hums and raises his eyebrows, but you can tell he’s pleased. “i knew having that mirror installed was a good investment.”
you might not be getting paid for taking on pro bono cases, but just knowing that you’re helping people makes up for it. and of course, the compensation you get from your coworker is more than enough to keep you coming back for more. 
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i hope you enjoyed this!! if you did, consider reblogging or leaving a comment or an ask :) it shows me this is something people want to see more of, and knowing people like this makes me want to write more of it! thanks for reading!!
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fernandamaya · 2 months
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Scarring Passion 10.03.2024
Kaveh was an immediate favorite of mine when we learned about him in the game. It dawned on me pretty fast afterwards that the favoritism was stemming partly from feeling reflected in him, which is sweet and emotional but also a tough realization. Kaveh is an idealist and too empathetic for his own good, a creative soul and big heart whose life experiences have irredeemably affected his mental health. Will Stetson's Writing on the wall is an amazing approach to Kaveh's character, the song was on a loop multiple times while I drew this piece. It's hard to put into words just how much this character's existence means to me, since, despite of the blows life's thrown at him, he still continues to be his own form of soft. I feel like he makes me realize that I, too, have remained my own form of soft, but that the inherent guilt of not being the soft I think I should be has made it difficult to show up for myself sometimes and it derives into unhealthy coping mechanisms (although I'm not an alcoholic but gaming and oversleeping are their own form of worrisome escapism lmao). He reminds me of the passion for the craft and the world itself overpowerng the instinct of preserving oneself. Kaveh lacks boundaries because he doesn't respect himself over the benefit of others, and at least, thankfully, I've started to learn that lol. I think the character personality design team did a wondeful work with him. There's a lot of nuance in genshin characters, hoyoverse in general for that matter, and I truly appreciate that we get to enjoy these fictional character's lives and find the light they so beautifully keep in themselves, maybe to be able to find it in ourselves as well.
Ah man, too many things I'd say as well but I'd express myself better in Spanish and even then it would be a bunch of rambling because mind goes faster than hands lol
I really loved doing this artpiece. I've wanted to draw Kaveh for months and started two other drawings before this that I didnt really like and scrapped. I hope I draw him again in the furute 💖
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herebutnothere · 1 month
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This scene in S7 E5 is so so important to the bridge between who Rick and Michonne were as people before each other and who Rick and Michonne are as individuals and a unit once they find and learn each other.
At this point in their journey they're at a crossroads. The Saviors have just murdered their friends and have put their community under a constant state of danger and strife. The very life and freedom they walked the extra 100 miles for is at risk.
And yet...
Rick is willing to accept it. He's already lost so much and he can't see a way out that doesn't include more losses that he's not sure he can handle.
But Michonne is willing to fight. While she too has lost so much, she can't see a way forward that includes rolling over.
Rolling over like Mike (who cost her her son).
Or rolling over like Andrea (who cost her the trust and friendship she carefully opened herself up to).
So here, when Rick says that he's going to go find things to appease this force weighing on them, that he's using his time and energy and power to essentially surrender, they're at odds.
For Rick, this comes with self-doubt, self-consciousness, and embarrassment. Maybe he can't keep them safe.
For Michonne, this comes with self-doubt, fear, and hesitation. Maybe she'll lose everything again.
But it's important to note that they're at odds with the method, not at odds with each other.
So. Back to this scene.
Rick says that if you change your mind, you can join us. You can join me. (Please don't leave. Please don't doubt me. That's a pain I can't handle.)
For him, Negan's presence is the manifestation of all his internal doubts. And we've seen what happened before when those internal doubts were presented in human form (Shane x Lori).
Lori turned from him. She doubted him. She lost faith in him. She, for all intents and purposes, left him.
So when he sees Michonne's doubt and hesitations, he thinks it's happening again. That she's turning from him. That she's doubting him. That she's lost faith in him. That she'll leave him. That she's disgusted by his "weakness". That she's at odds with him because we know that he internalizes his decisions as a reflection of himself.
That she can't handle, accept, or love this side of him.
But Michonne isn't even focused on that. She's stuck on her way of doing things. Of not being able to trust anyone and needing to be the only person who can step up. She's trying to not lose Rick and Carl and the others the same way she lost her son. She's reverting to hyper-independence.
So when she shifts his peck on the cheek to kiss him fully, when she holds his face and looks into his eyes, it's her saying "I see you. I understand. And I still need to do this for myself." (I'm not at odds with you. I'm trying to prove myself wrong. I need to see it through.)
His "thank you" is for her wordless affirmation. For her grace. For her love. For her acceptance of what he thinks he needs to do and who he thinks he needs to be in this moment to keep them all safe.
And with this, the bridge between them is strengthened. The Rick who still struggles with the weight of leadership that's been thrust upon him and the Michonne who hasn't fully trusted this new world around her begin to settle. And when each comes back at the end of the day having played out their individual methods and seen the proof they need firsthand, they have a new understanding of what they're facing.
Because this time is different.
Rick didn't have her before and Michonne didn't have him.
But now, they have each other. That's why she says that together they can defeat the Saviors. They need each other. His strength and hers. Different forms of strength made more powerful and amplified by the individual experiences they've had.
Le sigh.
This is one of my favorite scenes of theirs and in my mind lays the foundation for how everything in TOWL played out, from his escape attempts to her being able to break through his trauma. Simple perfection.
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tarotwithavi · 4 months
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3 things you need to let go of in order manifest your dream life
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1. Fear of Rejection
Do you realize that your fear of rejection is holding you back from doing so many things? Also why do you fear rejection ever thought about that? Yes we all fear something and rejection is a really scary word. Nobody likes rejection but the truth is the fear of rejection is what is holding us back and those who have let it go of this fear have achieved great things. Everybody is afraid of rejection so to say but what kind of rejection? Societal rejection that the society won't accept you for who you are, romantic rejection that your crush won't like you back or rejection from your own self? Why do you reject yourself? Why do you reject your thoughts? Why do you think that you are not capable of what you desire? This may not be a big thing but in order to evolve and grow you need to go through these questions and ask yourself why you fear rejection.
3 things to do to let go of this fear
Understanding Impermanence: Recognize that rejection is a part of life, and it doesn't define your worth. People's opinions and circumstances change, and rejection doesn't necessarily reflect a permanent state.
Focusing on Growth: Embrace rejection as an opportunity for personal growth. Learn from the experience, adapt, and use it as a stepping stone towards self-improvement.
Building Resilience: Develop resilience by realizing that not every rejection is a personal attack. Building a strong sense of self allows you to withstand setbacks and move forward with confidence.
2. Expectations
Sometimes you expect too much from people and from yourself too and when you cannot fulfill those expectations you feel upset. You have a great heart and there is no doubt about how pure and innocent your energy is. You do your best in everything you do, if you love someone you love them from all your heart and you will do everything for them. You expect others to do the same for you, expecting is not a bad thing but being upset over others not fulfilling YOUR expectations is not good. You need to let go of those expectations. And you don't have to live up to others expectations also. As a human we always expect others to do something for us or we just expect something in return. It's in our nature. You don't have to fulfill others' expectations and others don't have to fulfill yours. So you just need to let go of “expectations”.
Mindful Awareness: Be conscious of your expectations and question whether they are realistic. Sometimes, expectations can set you up for disappointment if they are too rigid or dependent on external factors.
Embracing Flexibility: Cultivate flexibility and openness to different outcomes. This doesn't mean lowering standards, but rather being adaptable to the twists and turns that life may bring.
Communicating Expectations: Clearly communicate your expectations to others when appropriate. This reduces the chances of misunderstandings and aligns everyone involved.
3. Self-Doubt
We've all been there, right? Dealing with self-doubt is like a universal thing and is a common human experience. But, let's be real for a moment, when did we let that self-doubt become the boss of our lives? Like, where did it even come from? Because, let's face it, it's not like self-doubt runs in the family or is scribbled into our DNA. Nah, it's more about what others toss at us. I used to doubt myself and still do actually(sometimes). But hey, I'm putting in the work. The more I do, the clearer it gets why the wise ones always say, "Who cares what anyone else thinks?" It's like, do you, be you, and forget the noise from the peanut gallery.
Positive Self-Talk: Challenge negative thoughts with positive affirmations. Focus on your strengths and past successes to counteract self-doubt.
Setting Realistic Goals: Break down larger goals into smaller, achievable steps. This allows you to build confidence gradually and see tangible progress.
Seeking Support: Share your concerns with trusted friends or a mentor. External perspectives can provide valuable insights and encouragement, helping you overcome self-doubt.
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people-wxtching · 2 years
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Yeah, I know many people have talked about this already but I need to say it as well before I explode.
I love visually seeing how the campers are all age accurately cast. In the books, it didn't hit me as hard because it was something I read when I myself was around 12. Even upon rereading I just go back to my 12-year-old body and the age is just this textual evidence that I KNOW exists but it doesn't truly impact me as much as it really should.
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With this still, though, it's clearly visible how young all of them are. And it's scary. It's just the teaser trailer and it's already scary to think just how tiny and innocent they are, and how many hardships they have to go through at such a tender age.
But the scariest part about the scary part?
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The youngest campers. That little girl (sorry for the bad quality) who's sitting right behind the girl with glasses looks around 7-8 at most. She's so small, so tiny, and yet she's at a camp where she has to learn how to survive and fight off monsters 100 times her size.
And the essence of all this is exactly what the movies failed to capture. The movies had a mostly adult cast, with zero ideas of what they were doing with the plot and characterization that could make the movies as impactful as the books, and focused a little too much on getting their Percabeth ship going, with absolutely no buildup of trust or slowly falling for each other or anything.
But with this show, I'm sure it'll be a lot more emotional and real because while it is sad that they're all just little kids, it's also a reflection of reality. Not every kid has a wonderful life; we all have to fight our own monsters no matter how young we may be, because life doesn't wait to see how old you are to throw problems at you. It doesn't have an age limit for trauma and hardships. The younger you are, the harder it impacts your life, and them being this small has a much more impactful meaning to it than watching almost adults go through the same problems that often get solved in an underwhelming manner.
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im-this-kind-of-girl · 8 months
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Aziraphale and Crowley's unhinged character analyzis (pt1)
Controversial opinion:
Aziraphale and Crowley at the end of Season2 managed to accomplish the main goal they each had since the beginning of time. Only to realize that what they wanted no longer made them happy.
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It sounds crazy, but to explain myself I have to do an in-depth analysis of their personalities and the possible transformation arc that both characters are probably going to have at the end of the Good Omens story.
Disclaimer: I have no idea about what is going to happen in Good Omens. This analysis could clearly be considered a theory since I'm not Neil Gaiman, but as someone who knows about narrative and character structure, I'm going to elaborate. Also, English is not my first language, so sorry in advance.
Aziraphale
First let's talk about Aziraphale. For two reasons, firstly because he is the one who seems to deserve the most defense right now; and second because Aziraphale, in my opinion, is the main character of Good Omens. This is because Aziraphale, out of the two, is the one who is likely to have the biggest change in his personality once his arc ends.
In a story, especially one like Good Omens with many characters, it is common for there to be many arcs, as every character has something to learn. Crowley, as a co-protagonist and love interest, is clearly going to have a change at the end of the plot, but his change won't be as big as our angel's.
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First things first, what is a transformation arc?
It is the transformation that a character undergoes from the beginning to the end of the story. Basically, at the beginning of a story, a character is in a certain state of equilibrium, he lives and thinks in a certain way until he is exposed to a situation that forces him to act outside of his comfort zone. During this, he will undergo different changes that will be reflected in actions that take him away from his natural state until the climax, where the character will make a decision that will change his normality forever. This is important. In every story, the climax marks a before and after in the protagonist's life: whatever he decides at this moment has no turning back and will mark his life forever, so that after the climax, the character may again have a state of equilibrium but different from the initial one.
What is the climax of Good Omens? Well, in the 1st season we have the bodie swap and in the second season the separation of Crowley and Aziraphale. But of the story itself? It's still a mystery.
Neil Gaiman has already confirmed that Good Omens is a three-act story, so its climax will be located at the end of season 3. We still don't know what definitive change there will be in our characters… although throughout the series we have enough clues to at least know what they probably have to work on changing.
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Aziraphale's Role
In order to analyze Aziraphale we must begin by understanding his role within the angelic hierarchy. Aziraphale was created as a Cherub and then, after Eden, became a Principality. Both ranks have one thing in common: they are guardian roles.
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Cherubs are second in the highest circle of heaven, below Seraphims. They are described as "guardians of the universe from a divine plane and without direct contact with humans, although they positively influence them". On the other hand, Principalities are seventh within the last circle of the angelic hierarchy, and the highest rank within it. They are the guardians of nations and countries, overseeing global events within politics and commerce.
So, Aziraphale was created with the main purpose of being only one thing: a soldier. His function is to obey and protect objects, places and beings. That is why he was the angel who received the sword of fire, his task was to protect Eden. But he also has a very strong sense of intrinsic goodness that has led him to make erratic decisions throughout history that question just how much he is willing to obey orders.
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If Aziraphale feels that something is wrong, he won't do it. It doesn't matter if he has to go against Heaven or sin. It doesn't matter if killing a child saves the rest of the world, he won't do it. It doesn't matter if God will grant Job new children, he can't stand idly by. These actions make him stand out from the rest. A simple soldier just obeys while Aziraphale has a critical mind, he has too strong of an opinion about right and wrong. If an event happens that he considers evil, Aziraphale will go to great lengths to prevent it.
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It is remarkable that the first thing he did having free will was to give his sword to Adam and Eve. Of course he did it with the function of protecting them but, by giving them his only weapon, Aziraphale was left in a serious state of vulnerability. He did it because he is good and kind, but it could also be considered an act of sacrifice. Here enters another important issue when talking about Aziraphale that relates to religion itself.
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The Martyr Hero
One of the most basic conceptions about the Christianity is that without sacrifice a person cannot really be good. Jesus was crucified to free us from our sins; Job sacrificed his whole life to prove that his faith was genuine. Even centuries later, the ecclesiastical institution maintains that the more you suffer, the poorer you are, the more chances you have of ending up in Heaven.
All the sacrifices made in life will eventually be rewarded in the Kingdom of God. It is the eternal figure of the martyr that is worshipped in Church, the idea that to really love, to really do good, sacrifices must be made.
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Aziraphale believes this blindly. Now, he is an angel, not a human. He will not have an eventual reward of any kind, and that does not matter to him, because he considers himself lucky to be able to be a being of light who brings happiness to others no matter the price he has to pay. He was willing to fall only to save the lives of Job's children just because it was the right thing to do.
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Performing actions for your own happiness without thinking of the consequences is frowned upon throughout the Bible. It is considered selfish and is a great source of guilt for all its faithful.
There is a line from the Good Omens Musical that has always stayed with me. When they argue, Crowley tries to talk some sense into Aziraphale by claiming all the reasons why he should help him avoid Armageddon, to which Aziraphale replies "you and I are not important."
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Why didn't Aziraphale quickly give in to the proposal to stop the end of the world? Why didn't he tell Crowley where the Antichrist was without hesitation? Why did he help Gabriel in spite of everything? Why didn't he kiss Crowley back although he wanted to?
Truth be told, Aziraphale does not prioritize his own happiness because he does not consider himself important.
At the center of it all is God, good and ineffable who would never let anything happen unless it is not amenable to the greater good, then there is all the rest. Aziraphale believes he is just a soldier with a mission: to protect the Earth and everything he considers worth saving. He is not on this list: his welfare does not matter to him because, in the grand order of things, Aziraphale does not believe he is important.
There is no afterlife reward for him, though that doesn't stop him from feeling guilty about wanting it.
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Aziraphale's dilemma
Aziraphale's great dilemma ould be summed up as:
Do I do what I want or do I do what I must?
Should he obey the rules or get what his heart yearns for now that it is within his grasp?
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Throughout Good Omens, we learn Aziraphale has given into various temptations such as food. But these sins are small in comparison to what he really wants. For how does he explain to God that what his heart desires the most is to be able to love the Serpent of Eden?
He is madly in love with Crowley. He could lose everything: his bookstore, restaurants, music, art, but the feelings he has for him will never go away. It were years of repression, believing that if he loved him in silence, everything would be okay.
Now, in the season finale, Crowley expresses it, confesses and kisses him, offering him what he has always secretly wanted on a silver platter.
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But Aziraphale was also offered a place in Heaven, finally being accepted by the family he misses. Aziraphale spent the entire 2nd season getting involved in trying to save Gabriel, in bringing Maggie and Nina together, getting perhaps a little too invested because he clearly missed having a purpose.
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He was not well emotionally. He missed feeling that he does good because, despite everything, he believes in the potential that Heaven has. Aziraphale knows that if he is in charge, if he gives up everything that makes him happy, if he stops being selfish as he was all these years, he can make the necessary change to prevent the End of the World.
Aziraphale is a soldier whose main goal has always been to protect. Becoming the supreme Archangel he is able to protect everyone he loves. Because of this, he decides to sacrifice his earthly happiness and make the most difficult decision but the one he feels is right: to leave Earth, reject Crowley and become Head of Heaven.
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The end of his arc and Crowley
Like any arc, Aziraphale's is clearly at the end of the story. He's already changed a lot, and he's done mostly so because of Crowley. Not just because of love, no, Crowley manages to awake something in him. Crowley is the driving force that encourages change in him, that reaffirms or questions his beliefs whenever he is in doubt about whether something is right or wrong. He inspires something that Aziraphale, an obedient soldier of the Lord never had: freedom.
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Obviously, our angel always had that spark of freedom, though repressed, hidden in the darkest part of his being because he knows it is something that makes him different from the rest and he doesn't like to admit that he doesn't fit in Heaven.
Because this means that he doesn't fit in Hell either, nor on Earth completely. Ergo, admitting to being different means confirming his suspicion that he doesn't fit in anywhere. But he never had to pretend this with Crowley.
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Knowing all this, how will Aziraphale's arc end?
Well, he's going to have to choose between heart and duty again. Aziraphale is going to want to save Earth at the Second Coming, that's obvious. He is going to be forced to disobey Heaven once again as he realizes that he cannot change them. In this way, he will confirm something tragic: his sacrifice was in vain.
But it is necessary that he can assume this in order to understand that he is wrong:
It is not necessary to suffer in order to deserve love.
It is not necessary to sacrifice everything that makes you happy to prove you are good.
Eternal sacrifice is not the solution. Aziraphale has to learn that being happy and being loved is not a reward that has to be given, no, it is something he is worthy of without the need to sacrifice his life. Aziraphale must understand that he does not have to prove that he is a good person by martyrdom. He is a good person because he is empathetic, smart and sweet.
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The secret is to find the balance between love and duty, between good and evil, to embrace his freedom and find happiness by accepting his mistakes that make him different from the rest. The easiest way is to learn to love in the most genuine way: the human way. Discovering that love does not necessarily have to be painful or repressed, that he can do it openly, that what he feels is not a test of faith, but the reward he has been waiting for all these years.
Aziraphale will ultimately become free through Crowley's love.
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623 notes · View notes
vroomvroomcircuit · 1 month
Text
From all four corners of the world comes my love 4 you
(A/N): This has been written with the inspiration @foreveralbon brought me. I love you and your incredibly mind, honey
Summary: Lando's girlfriend is a seamstress working at a tailor shop. She is repairing his clothes, he is cutting holes into his sleeves. Together, they release the cutest merch
Pairing: Lando x fem!reader
Warnings: None, this is so fluffy, I'm crying myself to sleep. I need a Lando like this
Wordcount: 2.9k
🏎Masterlist🏎 __________________________
(Y/N) thinks she is about to go crazy. Manic even.
Over and over again she patches up holes in her boyfriend’s long sleeves.
And over and over again new holes appear. It’s like this is her Sysiphus task. Just repairing Lando’s clothes day in and day out.
Don’t get her wrong. (Y/N) does this for three different reasons.
The first being that she is a seamstress, working in a tailor shop. This craft is how she pays her rent and food.
The second reason is that she really can’t have her boyfriend go out looking like he just got picked up at the side of the road begging for a warm meal and shelter.
The third reason may be less obvious than the previous ones. Acts of services is (Y/N)’s love language. She is not particularly good at letting people around her know of the appreciation she holds for them. Verbally at least. It’s not the way she grew up. She learned that actions speak louder than words can. So patching up her boyfriend’s clothes gives the young woman the opportunity to prove how much she loves him. She just hopes that Lando understands the meaning as it is intended.
Little does (Y/N) know, Lando really appreciates her patching up holes. What he isn’t a big fan of is when she repairs those that are intentional. The ones in his long sleeves are put there on purpose.
While (Y/N) is meticulously sewing, Lando goes snip snip in the other room with a pair of scissors. He just loves having sleeve paws, but it’s annoying when his thumbs are jailed in.
“Lando, have you seen my scis- What are you doing there?!” He turns around, looking at his girlfriend like a child being caught with their hands in the cookie jar. “Freeing my thumbs?” He tries to explain in a small voice, scared that she is about to go off on him for ruining his clothes.
(Y/N) sits down next to him on the ground. “If you have told me you want thumb holes, I could have done it for you. I would hem them for you, so they won’t fry. If you want me to, can I take some of your shirts to the shop tomorrow and work on them during slow times?” The way Lando’s eyes light up makes her wish for a camera to keep the memory of it.
(Y/N) not only fixes the holes in his sleeves.
“Love, would you put another patch on my jeans?” Lando saunters into her little crafting room. When she moved into his apartment in Monaco, he insisted on transforming a guest room into her own sewing cave. It was only fair. He got his gaming room as his hobby room, so his girlfriend needs her own territory too.
The room is filled with different sewing machines, one wall is decorated with threads of all kinds, colors and thicknesses. Several shelves are overflowing with different fabrics of any kind imaginable. Every shade, pattern or reflection that any crafter would kill for. Lando really spoils her and happily let’s (Y/N) run loose in a craft store, draining his credit card to her heart's fullest content.
(Y/N) would feel bad, if it wasn’t for the big difference in salaries they sport. Also, it is Lando’s way of treating his girl. Instead of flowers or a bag he buys her a new Bernina B 325, which is not something she is exactly complaining about. They share most of their expenses, but still, working at a tailor shop will never make you a millionaire.
Currently working on her own project of making a quilt out of scrap fabric for Max’s upcoming birthday, (Y/N) barely looks up to her boyfriend. “Yes, of course, sunshine. Just put it over there and I’ll have a look at it in a bit. Do you have any preference for the new patch? I ordered city themed ones a few days back and they arrived today.”
Without having to be pointed into the direction, the Brit already goes through the drawer that is solely dedicated to the patches (Y/N) accumulated during the last few years.
If he is being honest, that kind of work of hers is his favorite. Lando is just amazed by the different shapes, colors and themes her collection entails and how her delicate efforts bring a new individual mark to his favorite pair of jeans.
“I think I want to go with this one,” he mumbles after sifting through the drawer. Lando places a small rose next to the currently used sewing machine for her to not have to search for it in the midst of the chaos that is going on on the several desks in this hobby room.
He actually loves spending some down time here, especially when his girlfriend is working on her own projects. Lando hides under one of the desks, sometimes scrabbling away on pieces of paper for the next helmet sketch, sometimes answering some important emails on his laptop and other times he lies down between different piles of fabric and takes a nap. Having (Y/N) hack away with the machine, occasionally cursing under her breath when she pinches herself sewing something by hand or the music playing on a low volume brings Lando great comfort.
Spending quality time this way is secretly Lando’s happy place that he visits mentally during stressful patches when he is away.
A couple days later the door to the tailor shop (Y/N) works at rings the bell, alerting her of a new customer. “I’ll be with you in a second!” She calls from an adjoining room, cleaning up her work space from the trims that have been left by the jeans she just shortened.
“How can I hel- LANDO!” The young woman exclaims, rounding the register to jump into his arms. “I thought you’ll return from Australia tomorrow”, she murmurs into his shirt. The thumbs are, of course, able to escape through the holes she recently cut and hemmed like promised.
He laughs into her hair. “I wanted to surprise you and pick you up from work like the good boyfriend I am. I also got you something from ‘Straya.” Out of thin air (his back pocket actually) Lando procures a small stack of Australia themed patches.
“Oh, honey, they are perfect. Thank you so so much!” She kisses him all over the face until finally putting her lips onto his. “Just let me close the shop and we can go home and enjoy our evening.” Lando presses another kiss onto her lips, “Hurry up, I can’t wait holding you in my arms again.”
While (Y/N) packs her things up, Lando goes through a stack of different fabrics. One in particular catches his eye.
“Hey love, where did you get this heart patterned fabric? What do you have planned with that?” (Y/N) pops her head in to see what her boyfriend is pointing to. “Oh, that one. The owner was negotiating a deal with a new supplier and wanted to check out the quality. We wanted to see if this one is durable enough to make shirts out of it.”
An idea is forming in Lando’s app, that he quickly puts down in the notes app on his phone.
She emerges from the side room with her back and something else. “Would you try this on for me?” (Y/N) asks innocently, handing Lando a jean jacket. It is a bit oversized on him, just the way he likes.
“It’s pretty nice. What do you need me to model this fo- This is one of the patches I just gave you!” Lando admires the kangaroo that looks like it’s taking a jump on the sleeve. “I thought this would be a fun little project for the season. After every race I’ll put a patch from that country on the jacket. I can also stitch some additions onto it as well for when you get a podium or win or are voted as driver of the day and so on. Just, I thought this could be something cute.” (Y/N)’s face heats up the more she talks about her idea.
Lando pulls her into his arms, squishing his girlfriend as close as possible to his body. “Thank you, you don’t know how much I appreciate the work and thought you put and are putting into this.”
Like the proud trophy boyfriend he is, Lando loves modeling whatever his girlfriend sewed, patched up or created and pimped up in some other way while entering the paddock. Just as he predicted mentally, the fans are going crazy about his jacket online as he wears it on Wednesday for media day.
“I see, (Y/N) loved the patches you bought her. At least dragging me through every craft store in Melbourne that I know of has paid off for you”, Oscar remarks dryly as he watches Lando hanging up the jacket in the hospitality.
“Yeah mate, she sewed it on immediately. It’s her newest project, putting on a patch for every country we race in during this season after the race. She also wants to add a bunch of things for special occasions during the races.” Lando explains fondly the thought process behind the jacket.
As he is leaving the paddock later that day and signing several cards, caps and other merch, some fans ask him where he got the jacket from. “Oh, that old thing? I’ll gatekeep this one. Good luck on finding the store.” He answers a young woman while putting a bracelet she handed him on his wrist.
He hasn’t gone public with his girlfriend yet. The people know that he is in a relationship with Lando having started an already several months long soft launch, that includes their socked feet during movie nights and her backside in beautiful sunset scenes. So nobody knows what she does for work and the two of them want to keep the little bubble of secrecy they have so far going for a bit longer. Out of the public eyes without the pressure of fans and media.
It felt like a scavenger hunt going online and seeing fans and other media outlets trying to find Lando’s particular jean jacket. For the two of them it becomes their evening entertainment, reading up how everyone and their mother are losing their minds from not being able to detect where it is from.
“The chat is asking about that dumb cloth again. Just tell them where you got it.” Max groans, even his own chat during the stream isn’t safe from the assault. Lando, who chills on his bed while waiting for a message from his girlfriend about her being done with work, just smiles. “Come one, please lift the secret. I can’t even roll my eyes often enough times, that is how annoyed I am by this whole thing.”
The Brit loves the suspension around the subject, but gets up and saunters over to the monitors. “Ok Chat, I will only say it once and never again. Get your pens and papers out and write it down. So, this jean jacket with the patches is a designer piece. You can’t get it anywhere else, it was custom made and no, the designer doesn’t want to go into mass production with that one. But I am cooking something up. Just be patient, I feel like I will be able to make a deal for you. I just need to work my magic, but that takes time. My name is not Tinkerbell.” 
His little sass tirade is broken up by the ping of his phone, making Lando scramble for it to see his love’s text. “Chat, do you see how down bad that man is for his girlfriend?” Max ridicules Lando, giving him payback for all the teasing against himself.
While the chat is going insane, with the certainty that this moment has been clipped and will be used for edits by the fans, Lando just smiles at his phone, shooting a quick reply of picking her up. After that he packs his stuff and throws a quick goodbye to Max and the stream, onto the way to the tailor shop.
There she stands, his love in all her glory in front of the closed store. “Didn’t I tell you to wait in the building for me? It’s dangerous to be out alone, especially for such a beautiful person like you!” Lando scolds her lightly when he reaches her, taking her bag from her shoulder, throwing it onto his own back.
But (Y/N) presses a kiss to his lips, trying to soothe him. “It’s all ok. When I saw the headlights of your car, I stepped out and closed the shop behind me. I knew that my Tinkerbell was close by in case I needed saving.”
Lando wants to reciprocate the kiss, but stops mid air when he processes her words. “You watched the stream?” That shocks him a bit, because (Y/N) usually keeps out of this part of his life. It’s not really her world, streaming and gaming. So that’s one of the hobbies they don’t share, being the healthy couple, without a horrible codependency, they are.
“No, a friend sent me that clip a few minutes earlier”, she snickers, “Were you talking about me? About wanting to work a deal out?” Lando throws his arm around her shoulders, leading the young woman into the direction of where he parked his car. “I did. Originally I planned on woohing you by a nice candle light dinner and after that I wanted to ask you if you were open with making a few designs for LN4. The fans are going crazy over the pants and jacket. You also have the eye for the details that I love on clothes. It would make me so happy to hold something in my hands that we both worked on, to know that people in the whole world will wear it.”
(Y/N) looks up at her boyfriend, watching his side profile while he is rambling about the meaning of a collab between the two of them. How he can’t stop smiling over the excitement of the prospect of their merch line together, the way his eyes light up, his free hand gesturing while explaining a few ideas he has saved on his phone. She can’t help but press another kiss onto his cheek, effectively quieting him down.
“I will make that collab with you happen. I already have a few things drawn out in a notebook, I was just too scared to show you the sketches, not wanting to intrude or impose myself onto your business.”
Instead of saying anything, he just picks her up and throws them in a circle. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” He repeats over and over, both laughing about his childish antics.
A couple of months, several trial and errors as well as creative differences later, they stand in a studio, overseeing the photoshooting with the new collection.
“Wouldn’t this be the perfect way to launch our relationship to the public? With your face visible in the pictures?” Lando muses out loud while looking over a rack with hoodies. (Y/N) throws him a shocked look. “I mean, we can take a couple of pictures together with a few articles and also take a few of you individually too. The world needs to know the mastermind of these designs. You need to take credit for all the hard work you have done.” He explains, taking her hand and gesturing to the set up with the other.
She lets the idea rummage a bit in her head. It would be the perfect way to go public, especially since this is the first time her designs are commercially sold. (Y/N) breaks out into a smile, nodding rapidly. Lando can’t help but also smile, getting infected by his girlfriend’s happiness.
Weeks after that the new merch drop gets released to social media. The press and fans are eating up the couple's pictures, finally having a face to the woman, who is able to fluster Lando through text messages alone.
The clothes itself also get the best feedback.
A variety of the jean jacket and patched pants are now available for fans to buy, being able to kind of replicate Lando’s paddock look, coupled with a heart patterned hoodie from the collection.
But nothing gets close to the original with the many hand sewn details on Lando’s jacket, even when fans try to imitate them. A nice side effect is seeing other people picking up the craft of hand sewing and stitching.
Many people swoon over the long sleeves with cut out thumb holes. They especially love the heart shape of the holes.
It’s a perfect detail to the name of the new line.
‘From all four corners of the world comes my love 4 you’ is printed in one way or another on every piece.
Because no matter the distance between Lando and (Y/N), they can feel the love for each other over any distance.
260 notes · View notes
yesimwriting · 8 months
Text
Promise
a/n yes im using the princess! reader who's about to be forced into a political marriage with anakin again,, and what about it the vibe is so fun to me, also i love jealous anakin
warnings: 18+!!! smut (he broke me down) written by someone whose only experience comes from fanfics, so pls be nice,, also written in 1st person bc that was the vibe when i started and i didn't realize this was going to get smutty (i'm sorry yall😭 it's still my best tense)
Summary: As a princess, your future is set in stone. You'll marry someone your father picks for you to aid your country. All of this you've accepted...until you befriend Anakin Skywalker, who was originally assigned to guard you during a time of political unrest on your home planet.
----
He's still near the door, arms crossed and expression as stoic as it was when he first interrupted my meeting to escort me to an urgent consultation with my father.
I understand that publicly we need to remain as indifferent as physically possible and that any sort of friendliness we display needs to seem completely surface level. But we're not in public anymore and usually the transition from appropriate indifference to something much warmer is instant.
"...How urgent is urgent?"
The question is more for our sake than anything else. I want to hear his voice outside of the stiff way he interrupted the meeting with that last suitor. He had barely looked at me as he mumbled something about my father. I want it to feel light the way it usually does between us. I want him to make one of those jokes that always has me rolling my eyes or to smile or--or to do anything that makes him feel like Anakin.
The urge to study him begins to make it hard to just stand there so I turn towards my vanity. What I'm wearing isn't exactly inappropriate for a closed door meeting, but it's more formal than I'd like and a little itchy. If I have time to change into something more standard, I'll take it. "If I call Raina in here I can be in something a lot more comfortable in five minutes."
No response. I smooth my hair back with my palms, eyes subtly shifting towards his reflection in the mirror. Anakin's taken the slightest step forward. "Anakin?"
His head tilts downwards, eyes briefly meeting mine in the mirror before darting away. There's something about the way he's holding himself that would feel bashful it was less stiff. "There is no meeting."
"What?" My head instinctually snaps in his direction. Anakin's already watching me. "You--you made up an emergency?"
This is--Anakin interrupted a meeting with the first suitor that didn't make my skin crawl. I wouldn't have been thrilled to walk down the aisle with him, but I could have likely learned to be content with him. At least he believes that women can do more than just be brides and raise children. He'd allow me to participate in some community work to bond with his people and I'd be able to visit home.
But that's besides the point. He could have been the most repulsive candidate my father had found for me and it still wouldn't have justified what Anakin did. I don't walk out of meetings. Ever. If my father finds out about this...
"Do you have any idea what my father will do if he finds out?" I sit the edge of my vanity's seat with a tired sigh. There has to be some excuse. I could blame it on sickness or a misunderstand or--
"Then I'll take the blame." Anakin's words pull me out of my thoughts. His voice is still stiff and lacking its usual warmth in a way that only adds to my unease. Why is he acting like this? "I'll tell him that it was my fault and that I misunderstood your schedule debriefing."
My fingers dig into the soft fabric of my dress that's pooling over the seat. "Don't." My voice sounds so small, so vulnerable I have to hate myself for it. "He might take that the wrong way and--" I exhale slowly, forcing myself to cling to rationality. "And he might arrange your removal."
Anakin scoffs. What is his issue? "Like that'd bother you."
My throat tightens. After everything we've been through, after telling him things that I've never been able to tell anyone...How can he just dismiss all of it? And why is he being so mean? "What?"
"You've found your ideal suitor and now you can get married and be sent away and never--" Anakin cuts himself off, eyes tearing away so quickly like there's painful about looking at me. "You don't need me anymore."
Oh. That's what this is about. "Anakin." He's staring at some distant point on my wall. "That's not true. You know it isn't."
Everything about him remains stiff. "You were smiling." He briefly glances at me, eyebrows drawn together so sharply it tugs at something in my chest. "A real smile, not your practiced one." Anakin lets out a sigh that feels as pointed as a sarcastic laugh. "And you laughed."
"What?" I'm not miserable in one meeting and now he's acting like I hate him. "I--I might have been making the best of it because he's the first suitor who didn't spend the entire time listing off the requirements for his bride, but that isn't the same as liking him." And even if I liked him, would that be such a terrible thing? Would it really undermine our entire friendship if I found a way to be married and not miserable? "I'm going to have to marry one of them at some point, and I d--"
"Don't marry him." Anakin blurts the sentence out in one wavering breath. The letters run together so closely it feels more like a single word.
For a moment, all the shaky request does is sit between us. I've been on several outings and meetings with potential suitors and Anakin's never reacted like this. What was so wrong about this last one? "Don't marry him? What do--"
Anakin's eyes finally meet mine. The way he's looking at me stings, all glossy eyes and a pouty frown that's trying its best to be harsh. He seems more pained than angry and that's somehow worse.
Don't marry him. The words too strained and small to be about just the man from earlier. Don't marry him means don't marry any of them.
Oh.
I scratch the back of my wrist as Anakin's eyes drop to the ground. He knows that I have no interest in marrying for my father, but even if I did, why would that bother him?
With a sigh, I push myself to stand. Why it upsets him doesn't matter. So much is already weighing on him.
Anakin doesn't look up as I start walking towards him. "I--I can't promise that." My nails dig into the skin of my palm. "I wish I could." The words leave a bitter taste in my mouth. "But it doesn't matter." Anakin's rigid as I carefully extend my hand and bend my fingers against his forearm. "You're always going to be important to me."
He pulls his arm forward instinctually. My hold on him loosens, but before I can take my hand back, Anakin adjusts his to squeeze mine. He's holding on just tight enough for it to feel uncomfortable, but I don't mind it. It's grounding.
"Until you're married." He's staring at where our hands sit between us. There's something I should say, something comforting and easing. Nothing's coming to mind. The reality of the situation is set in stone. I'll have to marry eventually and that--that will change things. But it'll never change the way I feel about Anakin.
Anakin, who always listens when I need to purge all of the resentment about the rules that control my life. Anakin, who sits with me when I can't sleep. Anakin, who has the worst sense of humor that can always pull a smile from me even when it feels impossible.
He moves our hands, releasing my hand at my side. The brief loss of contact makes my ribs feel cracked. "No." It's instinctual. "It's--" I reach forward, hand reaching for his arm. "You're the only person I can tell anything to, the only one that never expects anything from me and just--just likes me for who I am."
The realization that Anakin might be the only true friend I've ever had hits me hard and fast. All of that and a part of me has always been selfish enough to imagine what it'd be like to live in a different world that could allow for more. Though, that's barely been a thought that I've allowed myself to have. Neither of us are in a position to get attached to anyone in that way, and even if we were, Anakin wouldn't see me that way. Besides, his friendship is no small thing, so it definitely takes the sting out of the impossible.
"Who wouldn't?" The comment comes out so soft, so absentminded I nearly melt on the spot.
A lifetime of being a daughter instead of a son has a reflexive a lot of people attempting to crawl up my throat. I swallow the bitterness like bile before I can make this about me and settle on a much lighter, "You'd be surprised."
Any lift in his expression falls again. "You don't see it."
I do try to think about it, but nothing that makes sense comes to mind. "See what?" Anakin pauses, lips pressing together. I'm expecting some kind of response. Instead, Anakin shakes his head once dismissively. "Tell me." His lack of response has me gently shoving his shoulder. "I thought we didn't keep secrets."
He lets out a small breath, we're so close I can feel the warmth of it against my skin. "It's nothing." When my only reaction is to glare, he reaches for my hand. "I don't want to talk about them anymore."
Strange. What does whatever he's talking about have to do with what we were talking about? Yes, the suitors want to court me but they want me the same way they want an ornament or my father's leniency in a business deal. Before I can remind him of this, his hand finds my shoulder.
If Anakin notices the way I freeze, he gives no indication of it, he just trails his thumb up and down the start of my collarbone. It's not the first time he's done this, but until now the gesture has been reserved for late nights when I can't sleep. I'm so used to it being soothing that it immediately gets rid of any fight in my system.
"You've had more meetings recently."
I nod, still too focused on the feeling of his hand on my shoulder. "It's a busy time...celebration season is always elaborate, and things are...tense."
He nods. If there's one thing he knows about, it's the precariousness that seems to be reaching everyone these days. But my time with Anakin is limited. He's been assigned to be my personal guard during the celebration season since the year a political protestor took my mother's life. The season always feels like it will be long, but time always slips away quicker than it should when it comes to Anakin.
I know I shouldn't do this. He doesn't need any type of encouragement after what happened at today's meeting, but something's clearly been weighing on him and I do miss him. The additional events, the public outings, the suitors...all to save face as the threat of war continues to become a more pressing issue. "My father had most of my afternoon blocked off in case that last suitor wanted extra time."
Anakin frowns, his thumb stopping its outlined path across my shoulder. He is so dramatic. "I shouldn't be telling you this because it might sound like I approve of you making up an emergency, but if you don't have anything to do, we can catch up."
He tilts his head, a hint of a smile turning up the corner of his lips. "Catch up? We're together all day."
I extend an arm, gently pushing him. First, he basically throws a fit because he convinced himself it was possible for me to like a suitor more than him, and now that I want to do something with him, he's trying to make fun of me. "I mean about before you came here. We've barely had time to talk since you've gotten back."
"Okay," his thumb brushes back down where my collarbone meets my shoulder, "We can talk." He squeezes my shoulder before retracting his hand. "The garden or the library?"
Our two most frequented spots. I grin. "The garden, the weather's nice today." He smiles, taking a step back. "Give me a minute to change. I turn away from him, walking towards my closet. "I've been ready to take off this dress since Raina put me in it this morning."
Raina spent longer than a minute trapping me in between scratchy fabric and a stiffly structured top. All of those ties and buttons that I still can't reach. Ugh. I wonder if calling Raina in will lead to more attention being drawn to the fact that I left early. Technically, the official meeting would likely be over by now but my father wanted it to go well. He kept things open in hopes of it lasting a little longer.
It's probably better not to ask. Drawing any attention to me and Anakin isn't the best idea in general. We're good friends, which is okay in front of some people but wrong in front of others. Raina is a little skeptical. It's nothing personal against Anakin, she just knows me too well, which means she reads into things.
I stretch my arm back as far as it'll go and manage to undo the bottom of the lacing and a few buttons. Anything that's more than halfway up my back is impossible to get to. I twist and turn and push and I can't reach.
"Everything alright?"
Anakin's voice carries through the short hall. I sigh, giving the fabric one last desperate tug. "Everything's fine I just..." I squeeze my eyes shut before pinching the bridge of my nose. "Can you come here?"
A brief wave of silence that leaves my face burning lingers until the sound of footsteps ends it. Anakin appears in my closet's doorway. "You're okay?"
"Yeah," I mumble, "Yes, I just--I can't get the buttons." As if to make my point, I try again in vain, trying again to reach the tiny clasps.
"You need help?" Anakin's voice comes out lower than usual.
Maybe he feels just as awkward about this. "If it'd be easier, you could just call in Raina."
"No," I can hear his weight shifting off the doorframe, "I can do it."
He takes a few steps forward. Before I know it, he's directly behind me. Anakin smooths a hand over my hair before gently moving it over my shoulder. The way heat begins to crawl up my neck makes me glad that my back is to him. His hand settles against my back.
I pull my arms forward, crossing them in front of my chest. He takes over, fingertips grazing against my back. The longer he works, the looser the dress begins to feel. I should be feeling cooler now that I'm getting closer to just being in my thin layering dress, but all of my earlier warmth and discomfort is now rising up my face.
"Raina put you in this this morning?"
I nod, "Raina woke me up earlier than usual today to make me up." The final button is pulled apart. I have to keep an arm at my chest to keep the dress from pooling at my feet. "I think this might have taken longer than my hair."
The comment is meant to be lighthearted. Instead of taking it that way, Anakin lets out a breath as his hand settles against my hip. "Won't things be easier when you don't have to worry about finding a husband?"
Now it's my turn to sigh. I make a point of pulling his hand off my side. I wander further into my closet. "You know I want nothing to do with this." My grip on the dress tightens, my sudden movement making it harder to keep the heavy dress on. "And if you honestly think I find any joy in being packaged in suffocating fabric and bodices so structured that they stab into my ribs every time I breathe, then you don't know me."
I turn around and let go of the dress, allowing the gown to pool at my feet. I step out of the puddle of fabric before reaching for one of my hangers, a casual day dress that I've barely looked at.
"I didn't mean it that way." His voice comes out low, almost reluctant. It's not enough to ease me, so I make a point of scoffing. Something warm pulls on my forearm. Before I know it, I'm facing with him. Oh. Anakin's closer than I thought he'd be. "I'm sorry." He exhales, voice tight, "Don't be mad, princess."
I keep my expression neutral. Though I'm in no mood to be reminded of my title, Anakin has a way of making it feel like a term of endearment. "If you're bothered by my situation, I understand that." He's staring me with such intensity I have to make the conscious choice to not look away. "I really understand that, but do not treat me like this is my choice. Not all of us are meant for more and can do whatever we want."
"Not whatever I want," he whispers, voice strained.
Now it's my turn to wish I had bitten my tongue. Anakin's told me enough of the stories for me to know that while sometimes the fact that he gets to leave and be an active source of good makes me wish my life was different, his isn't exactly easy.
His eyes hold mine for a beat before drifting downwards. For whatever reason, that makes me aware of the fact that this is likely the least dressed I've ever been in front of anyone. Sure, Anakin's seen me in pajamas and casual wear, but the silk dress under my gown is thin and low cut.
"And don't say that this is what you're meant for." He pulls my arm down with his hand, letting his fingers interlock with mine. "I've seen you in meetings and the way that you care about your people. You don't need to do this."
Again, it's like he's trying to convince me to change my mind. Like this is something that I want. I don't understand what he's trying to convince me to do. "Try telling that to my father."
I'm not sure what it is, but something about Anakin's expression looks a little flatter. Maybe even disappointed. I get it, this isn't exactly a fun topic, and we have no reason to dwell on it now. It's not like I'm getting engaged tonight. And I rarely get time to just be around Anakin, my future marriage has already taken enough from me, it doesn't need to take this too.
"Why are we still talking about this?" I pull my hand back, ready to grab my dress. "It's not like anything's happening now, let's just go to the garden like we--"
Anakin reaches forward before I can turn around, his hand finding my shoulder.
"I--" He cuts himself off, "There's been a rise in meetings with potential suitors, it's not as easy to ignore as it used to be."
I know exactly what he's talking about. All of my energy has been focused on not thinking about that. But that's because it's my inevitable future. How could this possibly matter this much to Anakin? "Ignore what?"
"Do you have any idea how difficult it is to know what they're feeling? What they're thinking about you?" Anakin's breath catches itself in his throat, his thumb slipping beneath the strap of my dress. "What they're thinking about doing to you?"
Heat rushes to my face. I try to swallow to clear the lump in my throat but my mouth has gone dry. "Anakin?"
"I've spent so long trying to let you go."
What? Is he--is he saying that he-- "What?"
He tilts his head downwards, "You don't need to do this. I--"
"Don't say it." My hand is quick to grab the one he has on my shoulder. Push him away, I should push him away. My hand won't move. The one person I've always known I won't ever be able to have.
"Why not?" He asks the question so innocently, like he couldn't ever fathom a reason for me to shut this down. After a moment, his eyebrows pull together, a small frown playing at his lips. "You don't want me?"
If this was any less serious, that would have made me laugh. That is, most definitely, not the issue. "That's not true."
He relaxes slightly, his thumb trailing down my shoulder. Before I can explain issues that we both are definitely aware of, he leans impossibly closer. His weight on mine is nearly enough to make me forget the concept of logic entirely.
"Anakin," it's meant to be a warning. The breathiness of my voice takes away all of its severity. "We can't." I'm arguing for more my sake than his. He already knows all of the reasons that we need to agree to remain just friends before things get any more complicated. "What I want doesn't matter. Nothing I've wanted has ever mattered." He hasn't moved away, but at least he isn't trying to get any closer. "And even if it did, it's not like we'd suddenly be able to be together."
Anakin's hand adjusts on my shoulder, his grip tightening. He has the audacity to look like he's not sure what I'm talking about. "The Jedi code?" He blinks, still giving no indication of understanding why everything about us is impossible. "I'm sure I don't need to remind you why that matters, chosen one."
He scoffs. "I don't care."
I place my free hand on his chest, willing myself to create some distance between us before my judgement finally lapses. "You can't--you can't say that." My eyes squeeze shut, "I know that it's unfair, but time will pass and you'll feel rational again, and it'll be easier."
"Don't do that." The harsh quality of his voice nearly makes me step back. "Don't treat this like it's a political compromise."
Something about me trying to keep things together the only way I know how is hurting him. I don't know how to get through this without taking the emotion out of it. Still, I don't want to make this harder on him. My hand moves up his chest and rests on his shoulder. "I didn't mean it like that."
He nods slowly, visibly relaxing at my touch, "You're only pushing me away because you're afraid."
"What?"
Anakin's thumb drags across my skin. "You're afraid that if you let yourself even admit that you might want something that your father hasn't decided for you, and that if you're selfish for even a second, your entire world will fall apart."
If it came from anyone else, I'd be offended, but coming from Anakin, it just makes the real reason why I can't just say it and give in hurt more. "That's not it." Anakin doesn't respond. He wants me to say more and I'm not sure that I can. "It's--" What I'm afraid of is that I let myself admit that I want Anakin out loud, I'll have to decide whether or not I want him more than everything I've been working towards my entire life and that I won't like my own answer.
"It's that," I start over, staring at my hand on his shoulder in case looking at him directly will make the confidence I've gathered to wither away. "That if I let myself think about it, about you--like that--for longer than a moment, I might want you more than any of this."
He pauses, likely thinking through his words. Maybe he'll try to promise me that he wouldn't make me choose while not understanding that being with him at all makes that decision for me. Or maybe the amount of care I'm implying will scare him into second guessing this.
His hand slowly moves off of my shoulder. If my deep, dark secret has finally gotten him to understand why we're better off as we are, then maybe it's worth how hard it was to get out.
His fingers settle against my jaw. Slowly, he gets my head to turn. I look at him, expecting some kind of rejection to be written across his face. Instead, all I see in his eyes is a pool of emotion ready for me to drown in. "Would that have to be a bad thing?"
This time, the softness of his question doesn't feel like an attempt to dismiss our reality. It's so genuine it turns into a physical ache between us.
I'm reminded that despite all of his talent, confidence, and sense of humor that I've tried so hard to enjoy less, he's still a boy who's experienced so much heartbreak. The council constantly dismissing him and refusing to grant him the title he deserves, the loss of his mother, all of the expectations on his shoulders...
Would it be such a bad thing to want him more than anything else? To love him more that much?
I tilt my head back, just enough to press my lips against his. Anakin's quick to reciprocate, turning the barely there press of lips into something else with no warning. He shifts his weight so that he's fully against me. My back hits the wall of my closet before I realize what's happening.
It's heavy, my bottom lip being pulled between his teeth. The hand that's not still cupping my jaw settles on my hip, the silk of my slip dress crumpling between his fingers. I pull my head back, Anakin attempts to follow, teeth tugging on my lip one last time before letting us separate.
He doesn't let me get far, resting his forehead against mine as we both struggle to catch our breaths. "I'm sorry, I should have--"
"Don't be sorry," I manage between slow pants, "Not for that."
Anakin smiles, and for once, I don't mind feeding his ego. "I can feel how much you need me." The urge to squirm away and hide any potential embarrassment is strong, but I have no way to act on the impulse. I'm pinned between Anakin and the wall of my closet. He slowly pulls my dress, exposing another inch of skin. "Do you think any of your suitors could make you feel like this?"
I shake my head, "No." That's an easy thing to get out, "Only you."
Another tug that has more fabric pooling around my waist. "Promise you won't marry him." His head dips forward, his lips brushing against the end of my jaw. "Any of them."
My eyes instinctually shut. I need to hold it together. "You--you know I can't just--" He places an open mouthed kiss against my neck. "Anakin."
"Promise." An order.
I exhale, struggling to focus. "It's not--" Another kiss. "It's not f--air." My voice cracks on the last syllable as Anakin moves further down my neck. "You know I'd never break a promise I made to you."
"What's not fair is having to watch you meet with men who look at you and to know that this..." He pulls the strap of my dress off of my shoulder, exposing more skin that he immediately presses his lips against. "Is what they want to do to you."
What? I had never thought that my suitors fantasized about anything, everything about those meetings always feel so cold and political. I'd question it if I could bring myself to care about the revelation with Anakin's teeth pressing into the pulse point of my neck. "To have to watch them look at what's mine."
"Anakin..."
One last shift of fabric and the hem of my dress is now over my hips. His hand leaves my jaw and skims the waist of my underwear. "Promise."
His fingers finally reach where I need him most. My eyes instinctually shut at the sensation, a wave of pleasure I've never felt before nearly making me jump. Noticing my tension, he presses a gentle kiss against my cheek.
I have to give him something, and maybe that'll be enough to at least put this conversation off until I'm in a position to negotiate. "I'm yours." My ability to form sentences is quickly fading as his finger presses into me. "Can't that be enough?" A small part of myself hates how easily I'm cracking. "For now?"
Anakin does the meanest thing imaginable, he stops. "Promise me."
A pathetically desperate whine escapes me. He can't be serious. He won't walk away now just because I can't immediately promise to never marry anyone.
He straightens enough to pull away from the crook of my neck. "Anakin." I meet his gaze, and behind the harshness of his eyes, I see that he means it. "You know I--I can't--"
"We can work it out." That genuine side of him returns, softness bleeding back into his expression. "All that matters is that you want to."
"Of course I want to."
He leans forward again, forehead pressing against mine, "Then promise me..." Anakin's eyes briefly shut, "Promise me you won't marry anyone else."
I let myself take him in, how it feels to let him consume me entirely. It's too late for me, anyway. I wouldn't be able to will myself to walk down the aisle the same way I couldn't force myself to push him away. "I promise."
His lips are on mine in an instant. When I don't part my lips fast enough, he hooks two fingers between the waistband of my underwear and tugs them down my legs in one, swift motion. I gasp, giving him all the access he needs to drag his tongue against mine.
He moves back, beginning to press his lips against my jaw. "Anakin."
"Say it again." His fingers find the spot that makes me see stars. "Promise me that you're mine."
A whiny breath slips past my lips, "I promise." His teeth drag against my throat and my nails instinctually dig into his shoulder, "Only you."
A rough sound escapes from the back of Anakin's throat. He removes a hand from my hip to adjust his own robes. I'm too distracted to realize what he's doing until it's obvious. "Again."
I reach my hand forward until my fingers are wrapping around his length. "Only you, Anakin." He groans. "I--I won't marry anyone else." Anakin places his hand over mine, guiding my hand up and down his length. "I'm yours."
He buries his face in the crook of my neck, "Maker, you're--" The rest of the sentence is murmured into my skin at a pitch that I can't make out.
His fingers press into me even harder. "Anakin," my whininess would be embarrassing if I wasn't so distracted by the coiling feeling in my stomach, "I--I--"
"Tell me," he lifts his head enough to speak the words into my ears, "Tell me that you want me."
My eyes screw shut, "I--It's more than want." It feels like a confession. "I need you."
Another strangled breath escapes him. Anakin pulls away enough to line himself against my entrance. He presses in slowly, the feeling in my stomach reaches a height I didn't think possible. "Anakin."
"You're so," he's getting the words out through gritted teeth, "Tight." Anakin pushes in even more. A gasp escapes me. "Say it again." I'm too lost in what I'm feeling to form the words. He pulls back before pushing his entire length in with no warning. Anakin shows no reaction to the pitchy whine he forced out of me. "Again."
"It's--it's only--you," I pant. "I won't marry any-one else--just--just please, Anakin."
His thumb presses against where my nerves are at their most on edge. I can't breathe or focus on anything. "Please what?"
"I need you."
He rubs tight circles against me and picks up the pace. My head falls against his shoulder, eyes squeezing tight. "Look at me." I--I can't keep my head up. Anakin's hand tugs at my hair, forcing me off of his shoulder. "Look at me."
I force my eyes open. "Anakin."
"Feel good, hm?" All I can do is nod. "Can't even talk anymore?" His lips find their way against my jaw. "What would all your suitors say if they could see how easy it was for me to get you like this?" His lips find a spot on my neck that leaves me dizzy. "First breaking all the rules and now you can't even talk." It's hard to focus on anything that isn't how he feels. "Who has you like this?"
I take a shaky breath, "You, Anakin." My voice is shaky, "Only you."
His lips press against mine. Hard. I give in entirely and it's all teeth and wanting a closer that doesn't exist. He pulls away just as quickly, "I've got you, princess," he exhales, "come for me."
My body knows what to do more than I do. I cling onto him. Anakin's thrusts become less even without losing speed. He continues until an all consuming pleasure has my body practically shaking. My orgasm hits so fast and hard I can barely hold myself upright.
"Oh, you're squee--" Anakin cuts himself off, pulling out before he can finish inside me. "Maker, you're perfect."
After it ends, I expect to be filled with some kind of regret or remorse. Instead, all I feel is a sense of peace as I recover with my forehead pressed into Anakin's chest. He keeps his arm around me loosely. "It's just you and me, princess."
I nod against him weakly, desperate to accept what he's saying. "Just you and me."
He smooths circles against my back. "We'll figure it out together."
It's not an easy thing to believe, but trusting Anakin is natural. I finally lift my head to look at him, "We have time." I don't know how much time, but it's definitely not happening today, and if I can push this until our political crisis becomes the ultimate concern, my father won't bring it up until this is resolved. Maybe if I prove myself as a leader, he'll see that I can be more. "I'm tired."
He smiles lazily, "You're saying I tired you out?" I roll my eyes. "Come on, we have some time before you have to meet with your advisors." Anakin squeezes my shoulder, thumb soothingly tracing a pattern against my collarbone. "Stay with me?"
I have to bite my tongue to keep a much too emotional always from coming out, so I just nod. He takes my hand and leads me into my bedroom. Anakin helps me into bed before laying next to me.
Drowsiness pulls at my eyelids. I fight against the exhaustion as best as I can, but Anakin's gentle touches and whispered terms of endearment aren't making it easier.
"You can sleep," he finally whispers, "I'll make sure you're awake with enough time to get ready for your next meeting."
It's tempting, but after all of this, all I want is to be near him and to--to talk to him and absorb his presence before I can't. "But--"
"I'm not going anywhere," he says, reading my hesitance easily, "We have time."
My eyes are already closed, "Promise?"
Anakin's head dips forward as he presses a chaste kiss against my temple. "I promise."
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noxtivagus · 2 years
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that spoken word i wrote back in gr 9 for english class about relating to the moon is still to relevant in the present n i love it so much
#🌙.rambles#i'm still proud of being able to write smth like that back then#i was relating us all to the moon w our imperfections n beauty but#i loved how around the end i wrote like. 'we don't have to be as beautiful as the moon' bcs 'we're only human after all'#i really love the thought in that. being the kind of people that we humans r capable of being bcs we're mortals#'the world is vast and the night is still young.'#honestly wnvr i think about how fast time's going by. when i look deep into my heart n soul i still see a young dreamer#no matter how old i get i aspire to always keep those dreams n words alive.#if i keep the curiosity of the kid with me then i think i'll be able to really learn n understand life in the way that best defines me#i love the poetry in this spoken word tho of#relating ourselves to these celestial beings. but in the end it's incomparable yet bcs we're human. n that's enough. that's alright#one day i hope to be well enough to write again. i do write from time to time but i'm a bit tired to really complete stuff#that's alright. i can be kind to myself. it's enough to go at our own pace#it hits different reading old stuff from before bcs i wld rlly just dream#but as i'm growing older n older i see how it reflects more n more on my reality#'before I know it / it’s already dawn.' i wrote that metaphorically back then but now i literally even stay awake till dawn ;;#even in pain i always write about how beautiful the world is. n that makes me realize that i'm still a kind n good person at heart#i do need to work on accepting my faults n a healthier n kinder manner but. yeah. i love people like me after all.#there's a reason why i love the moon so much as well. it's just rlly so poetic n beautiful to me#around the world there's ppl i've met n known that have associated me (a stranger from somewhere out there in the world) w the moon#i'm thinking abt life again n how beautiful it is. of all its possibilities n of all the connections n meaning we make#n us all as well. i know for me i really am a dreamer at heart. i'll always keep that. even if i'm weird or wtvr then who cares?#i'll be myself. /i/ am the one in control of my life n i'll decide how i choose to see my world. and live the way i want#sure it's lonely bcs most ppl out there aren't like us in this particular way but. we'll find that comfort. we deserve that.#who are we to be confined and restrained in this wide vast world?#how tragic it is to wish to hide. we don't have to be so open but we're all deserving of being known and understood#aaaa i'm probably still gna be a bit distant bcs i'm tired still but that's alright! it's ok to focus on myself!#i'll do the rest when i'm ready. for now this is the next step i choose to take. small steps at a time. that's enough for now.#oh yeah this is the certain peace in myself i feel that makes me perform my best. i feel like myself again right now#n honestly all this keeps on cycling n repeating but it's alright. i learn more each time. n i'll keep on forging ahead unto tomorrow
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libraryofgage · 5 months
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PJO Steddie Seven
One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six
PJO show is living rent free in my head everyone. I love that funky little fantasy show
Anyway, welcome to part 7, where we learn more about some of the kids' powers, get a peek into Steve's growing troubles with his powers, and Steddie get a fun little development too
As always, if you see any typos, no you didn't ;)
Oh! And a meme, another meme for you at the end lol
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While the kids have no problem adjusting to Camp Half-Blood and making friends (several of the other campers have asked El to freeze them if only because they think it's funny), Steve runs into a few bumps. He's not used to relaxing. He's not used to letting his guard down and having the children out of sight for so long. And he's definitely not used to his powers feeling beyond his control whenever Eddie is around, which is...well, always.
Don't get Steve wrong. He likes being around Eddie. In fact, he looks forward to it. Steve hasn't smiled or laughed this much or been around someone his own age in a while. It's new and kind of weird and just a little scary.
But it doesn't at all help with his growing nervous energy. He keeps waiting for a shoe to drop, quickly followed by another. It never does, and Steve fully realizes what a problem this is when Eddie is in his room one day and casually says, "Your clouds are different."
Steve blinks, looking over at Eddie in one of the chairs. He has a guitar in his lap, idly strumming as Steve's phone plays music for them. Steve had just been nodding off, feeling relaxed and sleepy when Eddie spoke. "What do you mean?" he asks.
"They changed again." Eddie says, frowning slightly as he points at the clouds drifting along the ceiling. They're a slate color now, not exactly brewing up a storm but looking ready to start pouring down on them. They aren't gloomy, though. It's more like...like the tension you feel when a natural disaster is about to strike and the clouds are the only warning you'll get of its arrival. "They were starting to turn white, but they're grey again."
"Oh," Steve says, flopping back on the bed with a sigh. "They're supposed to reflect my mood."
He hears the chair shift and steps coming closer to the bed before Eddie sprawls across the mattress next to him. "What's got you so grey, sweetheart?" he asks. Their hands aren't touching, but Steve can feel that now-familiar buzz at his fingertips, the little arches of lightning begging to reach out if he'd only let them.
Steve curls his fingers into a fist, refusing to succumb to the urge. He considers lying, just brushing off the question, but then he makes the mistake of looking at Eddie. He looks right into Eddie's brown eyes, and his resolve crumbles. His fist uncurls, their fingertips brush, and he allows a harmless spark to pass between them. "I'm just on edge," he says, looking back at the ceiling and watching the clouds. "Restless, I guess."
"You're used to fighting monsters and moving across the country, Stevie," Eddie says, sliding his hand closer to Steve's so their fingers are tangled together and a current begins to pass between them. "Being all...still is getting to you."
"Yeah, no shit," Steve says with a quiet snort. "Can't do anything about it."
"Well...there is Capture the Flag next week," Eddie points out, shifting closer, like their hands aren't enough. Now their arms and shoulders are pressed together, and Steve inexplicably feels some of that nervous energy disappear, like Eddie is taking it from him. "It can be an all-out bloodbath, you know."
Steve huffs softly, getting a wry smile. "I'm not sure anyone's gonna want to be on my team," he says. The other campers avoid him. Despite his best efforts, his attack on the patrol campers spread fast and mean, and everyone is a little wary. "So, unless I can be on a team by myself, it probably isn't gonna happen."
A few beats of silence pass, and Steve is about to assume he's somehow fucked up the conversation when Eddie says, "You wouldn't be alone. There's me. And the kids. And I could get the Hermes Cabin to partner with you. Plus, you know, you're a Zeus kid, Stevie. You ask to be in charge and nobody's gonna argue."
He...hadn't thought of that. Steve frowns slightly, letting the idea turn in his mind. It would be a challenge, of course, especially if all the other cabins decide to team up. But...a challenge means pushing himself, reaching limits he's never come close to, letting go completely and losing himself in the battle, whether he wins or not.
The clouds above them start to roll, broiling with the energy of a storm that's all thunder and lightning, and excitement surges through Steve. He doesn't even realize he's letting it get the better of him until Eddie yelps and jerks his hand away.
Steve blinks, jerking up and reaching out to Eddie but stopping halfway. "I'm sorry," he says, frowning slightly as he watches Eddie look at his hand. "I'm really sorry. Are you hurt?"
"No, no, it was more...," Eddie trails off, and then he gets an obnoxious grin and looks up at Steve. "It was more the shock of it."
A beat passes before Steve groans, grabs his pillow, and whacks Eddie in the face with it. Eddie dramatically falls back on the bed, lamenting Steve's cruelty and superior fighting skills as Steve laughs. When Eddie finally stops hamming it up, he pushes the pillow away and says, "So, I'd guess you're excited?"
Steve rolls his eyes, his cheeks hurting from smiling. "I...have an idea already, yeah," he says, looking at Eddie and leaning closer. "Wanna hear it?"
"Hell yeah," Eddie says, his eyes lighting up as Steve lays it all out.
And so begins a week of planning.
It's a week (most of which was spent convincing the Hermes Cabin to join his team and agree to just sit back and guard the flag) that leaves Steve buzzing with energy on the day of Capture the Flag. Eagerness makes his limbs tingle and his body beg to pace as he looks over the demigods in front of him. It's just the Hermes Cabin, Eddie, and the kids, meaning they're facing off against the rest of the camp.
He can't blame the Hermes kids for looking like they've already been defeated. The only reason they're still hanging around, Steve is sure, is because he and the kids promised to do all of their chores for two months if they lose.
Steve takes a deep breath, rolls his shoulders back, and consciously lets go of the Mist around him. He's used to holding it close, using it to cover himself and make him look, well, weaker, that he has to purposefully send it off. He knows the moment it's completely abandoned him; the demigods all stand straighter, only the kids and Eddie dare to meet his eyes, and the snakes poking through the hole in El's beanie start tasting the air with interest.
"You've put your faith in me," Steve says, his volume normal but his voice still booming in the otherwise silent clearing. "You probably think we're fucked, but you'd be wrong. So, listen up. I will be offense. Eddie, Will, and El will be extraction. And you, with the strength of numbers, will be defense. Guard this flag with your life, and we will win. If any of the enemy manages to slip past me, hold steady. You are the final line of defense. Your job is the most important, and I expect you to give it your all."
The hesitant expressions have become impassioned, if not a bit confused by the fact. Steve grins at them, feeling the air crackle between his teeth as his excitement grows. He exhales sparks, his fingers buzzing and his skin close to bursting.
Steve doesn't often pray to Zeus. He's never felt a need to, and several goddesses have made themselves better known to him. But now, as excited for the fight as he is, Steve thinks to Zeus, If you've never watched me before, then watch me now.
He puts on his Blue-Team helmet, the distant horn ringing in his ears as the lightning floods through him, and heads into battle.
-------------
Eddie's role is simple: keep El and Will from getting hurt. He'd be offended at the simplicity if he weren't already plenty aware of his inability to fight well. He's built for defense and retreat, which is why he's got his shield at the ready and is preparing himself to jerk the kids back at the slightest hint of danger.
They're crouching behind some dense bushes, Will and El peeking through the gaps at some Red-Team campers, the first line of defense for the red flag. "So, what's the plan?" Eddie whispers, shifting slightly as he looks between the two kids. Thunder rumbles, and it takes every shred of Eddie's self-control to not look at the gathering storm clouds above them.
"Will makes them daydream," El whispers back, her beanie squirming as though the snakes can feel their imminent freedom. "If that does not work, I will turn them to stone."
Eddie slowly nods, glancing at Will as he cups his hands to his mouth and whispers unintelligible words into them. "And, uh, how is making them daydream supposed to help with distractions?" he asks.
"They are very strong daydreams," El replies.
Will finishes whispering, and a purple dust-like swirling mist is nestled in his palms. He nods to El, waiting for her to carefully make a larger opening in the leaves before gently blowing the mist from his hands. Eddie watches as it twists and curls around the Red-Team campers, slipping under their sleeves and floating to their ears and eyes. The mist settles there, a thin and nearly imperceptible film that Eddie wouldn't know to see if he hadn't watched Will make it.
A few seconds pass as the campers slowly relax, their grips on their weapons loosening until a few swords fall to the ground. El waits a few more seconds before picking up a sizeable pebble and throwing it at a tree across from them. Despite making a loud thud when it hits and falls to the ground, none of the campers blink or move an inch. The only movement Eddie can see is a slight sway and the occasional twitch of fingers, like their body is trying to follow through on movements they make in their daydreams.
"Metal," Eddie whispers, keeping pace with El and Will as they move out from behind the bush. If everything is this easy, they'll get back in time to see Steve fighting. Eddie would love if he could see Steve fighting again. "How did you do that?"
Will flushes slightly, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's not a lot, really," he says, his voice quiet and a little embarrassed. "I mean, I just use dream-speak to give the daydreams specific emotions and then send it over."
"Dream-speak?"
"You know how you can't read in dreams? And if you try to remember exact conversations, you can only get snippets or a word or two? That's dream-speak," Will explains. He thinks for a few seconds before adding, "It's, um, supposed to feel intangible."
"How long does it last?"
"Usually," El says, her voice soft as she pauses and gestures for Eddie and Will to follow, "around twenty minutes. But it depends on the person." She leads them to large boulder, all of them ducking behind it in time for some Red-Team campers to walk by.
"Holy shit," one of them says, looking in the distance at the gathering storm clouds as she slows down. "Man, I am fucking glad we're not fighting that Zeus kid."
"No kidding," the other mumbles. "He's a monster."
Eddie has heard plenty of people call Steve a monster in the past week. Most of them say it with awe in their voices, unable to find any other word to describe the sheer power they saw from Steve. But others, like the one here, say it like Steve is a monster for them to defeat for the glory of it.
He clenches his jaw, grip on his shield straps tightening some. Before he can do anything, El reaches up to her beanie, and Will slaps a hand over Eddie's eyes. He hears the hiss of a writhing mass of snakes, aborted shouts, and then nothing. When Will takes his hand away, the two campers are statues, shock and terror contorting their expressions. El, with her beanie back in place, considers them for a moment before turning. "We should keep moving."
Eddie doesn't argue, but he does hold up a fist to El, grinning when she slowly bumps it with her own. She then turns to Will, her expression expectant, and she flashes her own tiny smile that matches Will's when their fists gently bump together.
Of every game Eddie has participated in, this game of Capture the Flag is by far his most relaxed. Will and El seem to have plenty of experience sneaking around and launching sneak-attacks. The closest Eddie gets to seeing any kind of action is when a Red-Team camper happens to stumble across them on their way back from the bathroom. Even then, before Eddie can raise his shield to block their sword, El slides in front of him and rips off her beanie.
"Thanks," he says, keeping his gaze away until the beanie is back on.
"You are welcome," El replies, staying quiet for a few seconds before adding, "Steve would be sad if you got hurt."
With that statement dropped on him, she continues leading the way to the Red-Team base. By the time they reach it, several Red-Team campers have been deployed to support the other campers fighting Steve. Between those, the ones stationed on the other side of the forest, and the campers they've disposed of, only twenty remain to guard the flag.
"I'm surprised the Athena kids aren't more prepared for you," Eddie whispers, glancing at El. She's the kind of secret weapon everyone knows about and prepares for, but he hasn't seen any of that so far.
El glances at Eddie, considering her response for a few moments before looking at Will. When he nods, she says, "I have not told Steve, but the Head Camper for Athena approached me two days ago. She offered me a personally-designed weapon if I did not use my powers during the game."
"El agreed," Will says, picking up the explanation with ease, "and promised not to use her powers to steal the flag."
"I am not stealing the flag," El finishes, a proud smile tugging at her lips, "I am capturing it."
"You're a little devil, you know that?" Eddie asks, grinning brightly.
"No. I am a little gorgon."
-----
They leave a garden of statues in their wake, and El takes a few moments to sigh and say it's not as good as her mother's before they leave with the Red-Team flag carefully hidden under Will's shirt. As they approach the border between the team territories, the sounds of battle grow. Swords clash, fighters shout, and lightning cracks between them all.
"We can take the long way," Eddie offers, his tone reluctant as he glances in the direction of the fight. They're close enough that a few trees are singed on the edges from lightning strikes, and Eddie holds his shield tighter. Letting the kids get anywhere near that fight isn't protecting them, and he should direct them in a wide circle around it.
But something is calling him, urging him closer to the fight in a way he's never felt before. He's not an Ares kid---Eddie has no desire to enter a blood bath---but he gets the feeling that Steve is going to need him soon.
"El and I can make it by ourselves," Will offers. "It's only a few feet away, and the game ends once we cross, right?"
Eddie nods, frowning before taking a deep breath. "No, it's okay," he says, waving for the kids to keep moving. "We'll try to head straight through and end the game sooner."
It's a choice he was expecting to regret, but doesn't get the chance. Nobody notices them, even when they get close enough to see a swarm of Red-Team campers surrounding Steve. None of them glance in their direction, too distracted by the fight to spare any attention to three insignificant campers sneaking by. Thunder rumbles endlessly above them, a deafening soundtrack that's only broken by cracks of lightning striking the ground and knocking campers back a few feet.
"Steve is having fun," El observes, sounding happy for him as they approach the Blue-Team border.
"He's never really let go, huh?" Eddie asks, getting a quick peek at Steve through the swarm. He lost his helmet at some point, leaving his feral expression and static-raised hair in full view, and arches of lightning jump across his body, occasionally reaching out to strike any Red-Team campers that get too close.
"No," Will says, his voice soft as they approach the border. The moment Will steps over, the horn sounds in the distance, and Eddie waits for the fighting to stop.
But it doesn't. Nobody in the swarm seems to realize the game is over. They continue to attack Steve, and Steve continues to fight against them, the air churning and sparking and ready to burst. A few seconds pass before Eddie realizes they won't stop until only one side is left standing. He gets it. Kind of. Steve carries the air of royalty; a challenge. If you can beat the son of Zeus, a literal Prince of Olympus, the glory of that achievement is untold. And it seems his fellow campers have fallen prey to that glory, utterly lost to it
Eddie feels that urge to join Steve surge through him again. He swallows around a sudden lump of nerves in his throat, searching for any other peek at Steve he can get as he says, "You guys go ahead. I'll help Steve. We'll catch up."
He doesn't bother waiting for El or Will to answer. He just rushes into the battle, something he never expected himself to do. Somehow, he doesn't meet any resistance. Lightning strikes the ground around him, pushing Red-Team campers back and urging him on, and Eddie wonders if Steve knows he's coming.
When he finally reaches the center of the battle, he sees Steve swing his bat against someone's side, the nails dragging painfully before he kicks the person back. Steve has lost his chest plate as well, and the only armor he has left are the wrist guards. There are slashes in his clothes and the edges are burnt. Eddie is almost distracted by the sight until he sees a daughter of Ares rush Steve from behind, her sword raised to bring down on his back.
In a move of unprecedented grace (seriously, Eddie will look back on that moment and never understand how he managed to not trip over himself), Eddie springs into the battle. He rushes at Steve, sliding behind him, twisting, and raising his shield in one smooth movement. The sword comes down on his shield, sending vibrations down his arm but otherwise causing no harm to him or Steve. Eddie pushes back as hard as he can, sending the daughter of Ares sprawling before pressing his back to Steve's.
"Thanks," Steve says, his words crackling and sparking against Eddie's ear. He thinks it's just a phantom sensation at first, but Eddie soon realizes lightning is literally arching between them, jumping across their shoulders and through their hair and buzzing down Eddie's chest.
He licks his lips, electric ozone lingering on his tongue, and Eddie is fascinated by the taste. "No problem," he says, his body following Steve without thinking. It's easy when he can feel the bolts of lightning between them start to shift, telling him which way Steve is going so he can keep up. "You know the game is over, right?"
"This is the most fun I've had in years," Steve replies, his tone implying that should explain everything.
And, yeah, it kind of does. He sounds genuinely happy and thrilled, his voice teeming with eagerness that's punctuated by the sound of his bat hitting a Red-Team camper in the head hard enough to make their helmet ring.
Eddie knows Steve would stop if he asked. Eddie knows he could talk Steve down from this lightning-fueled battle high. Eddie decides that wouldn't be nearly as fun.
"Okay," he says, pressing closer to Steve's back and blocking an arrow headed straight for Steve's shoulder. "Have fun, sweetheart."
Eddie didn't know it was possible, but Steve's power surges again, like it was just simmering under his skin, waiting for permission. And Eddie gave it. Bolts strike from the clouds above while arches jump across Steve and Eddie, running down their arms and leaping at Red-Team campers who get too close. They don't stop; the lightning continues to jump from camper to camper, electrocuting whoever it touches, and Eddie realizes he should have been electrocuted, too.
He blocks another sword, lightning crackling along the edges of his shield and shooting off sparks when its hit, and looks at the white-blue arches running along his arm. Without thinking, Eddie touches one, a gentle buzzing spreading through his hand as the arch transfers and jumps around his palm. It tickles more than anything else, and Eddie would think it's harmless if a Red-Team spear didn't get close enough for the lightning to jump and shock the camper unconscious.
It's not that the lightning jumping between him and Steve is harmless, Eddie realizes, it's just that it won't hurt him. He feels like some of the lightning has settled in his chest, crackling and warm and soothing. Eddie glances over his shoulder, taking in Steve's breathless smile and the way light splashes across his face with each bolt that hits the ground and the sparks that jump from his bat.
That feeling he got when he first saw Steve, the breathlessness and awestruck realization that the whole prophecy was just him, hits Eddie all over again. He lingers in it for a few seconds, letting it wash over him and settle in his limbs, before getting yanked out by a particularly close lightning bolt that makes his ears ring.
Right. A fight. That he's part of.
Eddie forces himself to focus on defending Steve's back. He blocks arrows and swords and shields and, once, a battle axe that makes his shield groan. That one pisses him off some. This shield was a gift from Hermes, a gift that showed surprising knowledge of Eddie's interests, and he'll be damned if it breaks. As though fueled by his anger, the lightning on his shield crackles and shoots down the battle axe, converging on the camper until she drops the axe with a yelp.
He doesn't get to linger on that too long; another arrow comes straight at Steve again, and Eddie is far more occupied by blocking it. And so it continues. Steve fights, lightning strikes, and Eddie defends him the entire time, giving Steve the space and security to just let go and release all the energy that had been building since he arrived at camp.
It's over sooner than he expects. One moment, Eddie's arm is buzzing from a particularly strong hit to his shield, and the next, the field is silent. Thunder still rumbles above them, lightning still crackles around them, and Eddie's heartbeat is pounding in his ears. Campers are scattered around them, all breathing but most knocked out for a while. Eddie takes a deep breath, feeling the air spark harmlessly in his lungs, and slowly lets it out.
He rolls his shoulder and retracts his shield, placing it around his neck again before turning around. "You good?" he asks, looking Steve over for any obvious injuries. His clothes are even more singed, the hem of his shirt blackened, and his hair is sticking up wildly but still somehow perfect. Steve's tense, his muscles strained as he pants, looking around them before his gaze finally lands on Eddie. He's still gripping his bat tightly, his knuckles white, and Eddie is about to gently pull it away when Steve just drops it.
Eddie blinks, frowning slightly as he starts to ask Steve if he's okay. And then he can't speak at all, because Steve's hands are cupping his cheeks and Steve's chest is pressed against his own, and Steve's lips are thoroughly occupying his. Lightning shoots through Eddie, jumping down his throat as Steve's tongue licks past his lips.
It doesn't hurt, though. Nothing from Steve could actually hurt him; instead, it makes his fingers tingle and his lips buzz and his heart jackrabbit against his ribs. Eddie is filled with an inescapable energy, and there's only one way to expel it.
So, he kisses Steve back. Eddie wraps an arm around Steve's waist to tug him closer and pushes a hand into Steve's hair, finally feeling the soft strands tangling between his fingers. He tilts his head and lets Steve have the quiet groan that slips from him when tiny bolts jump from Steve's molars to Eddie's tongue.
Eddie is breathless and floating and completely under Steve's spell and...and...and he's confused. Because Steve yanks himself away, a panicked noise in the back of his throat as he takes a step back. His chest is still heaving, but Eddie knows it's for a different reason now. Steve starts to say something, his lips swollen and red and begging Eddie to kiss him again, but no words come out.
And then he does something Eddie never expected Steve to do. He runs. He panics so badly that he runs back toward the Blue-Team base, leaving Eddie in the middle of the Red-Team carnage with a floaty brain and a stupid smile.
Maybe, if it had been anyone else, Eddie would be panicking, too. He'd be worried about the person actually liking him, worried about what the kiss meant, worried about any number of things, really. But it's Steve. Eddie knows Steve. He knows Steve's laugh and his walk and his lightning and now his kiss.
There are only two possible reasons for Steve running away: either he panicked because the kiss was too sudden, too heat-of-the-moment, or he panicked because of the literal lightning he sent through Eddie. Both are easily addressed, easy to soothe Steve down from freaking out about so they can get to kissing again.
Eddie's smile widens some, and he takes one last look at the campers around him before carefully making his way past them, figuring he should tell Chiron they'll be needing ambrosia and nectar.
-------
Tag List
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For those who made it this far, a meme:
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megu-meow · 1 month
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take my breath - sukuna
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Part 4 of my Hockey Player Sukuna Series - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3
Lmk if you want to be added to the tag list! :D
This part is shit, I'm sorry. After TTPD I found myself unable to write fluff, but I've kept people waiting, so I had to force myself to write this.
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When Sukuna says soon, he means the next Thursday. He calls you on Wednesday after practice to ask you formally whether you could keep your schedule open for the next evening and you agree, because you have been waiting for your date for a few days now. However, you find yourself frustratedly trying on every piece of clothing you own, being indecisive about what to wear. You want to look good for him, because as you shyly admitted to your brother, you really like Sukuna. He's rough around the edges, but he seems like a good guy, unlike all the other people you've dated before. You contemplate calling one of the girls, but Senna and Akane love to gossip, and for the time being, you'd like to keep this little date with Sukuna a secret. So you call the only person you can trust in this situation.
Sophia arrives ten minutes after calling her saying you need help getting dressed for a date. She's the only one of the girls who knows that you have something going on with Sukuna, it makes total sense to reach out to her in your current circumstance. You already made her swear on your brother's life that she's not going to say anything about it to the girls, so you're safe in that regard. Plus, she has a keen sense of style, which comes in handy considering you want to impress the pink-haired centerman with your looks. You noticed already how many pretty girls were wearing his jersey to games, you know that he could have any of them at his disposal in a second. It still seems sketchy that he became so fond of you in such a short period of time, but you're not complaining.
"He was so nervous when I left, Kento thought he was going to explode." Sophia says as you try to put socks on, balancing on one foot.
"Who was?" you look at her and you nearly kiss the ground, regaining your balance at the last second.
"Sukuna, of course. He's been pacing around the apartment like a maniac all day."
"Really?" you ask timidly.
"Yeah. Kento said he had never seen him so stressed." for some reason hearing this makes you smile and your heart warm. Sukuna doesn't strike you as someone who would be nervous about dates, but you already learned not to assume anything about him, because he always surprises you with the way he acts.
"I'm kinda nervous too. I want this to go well." you explain and you try to put your earrings in. As you look at yourself in the mirror, wearing the outfit your sister-in-law put together, you're content with your reflection. You look amazing and you feel confident in the pieces you're wearing. Your makeup and hair are done in your usual way, you don't want to look like a completely different person. Apparently, Sukuna agrees that you look good. Because the moment you open your door for him, he freezes in place, with his eyes wide and glimmering. For a second you think something is wrong, but those thoughts are quickly dismissed as he speaks.
"You look beautiful, y/n." he states, his voice softer than you've ever heard. He is wearing a burgundy suit, one that complements his skin tone. His hair is sleeked back, but it still looks effortless in a way. You can smell his usual cologne, the musky scent that lingers. It suits him.
"Says you, handsome." you compliment him back and you swear a blush appears on his cheek. Suddenly, he remembers something, and he gives you the flowers he was hiding behind his back all this time. "Thank you! What happened to all flowers are stupid?" you ask as you smell the peonies in your hand.
"Well I got you some sunflowers, but your brother told me I was insane, so he dragged me to a florist to get 'ones that girls actually like'." he explains.
"He's right, you know? You made me wait four days for this date, the least you can do is give me some girly flowers." you joke and he rolls his eyes. Nonetheless, he reaches out for your hand. You slip it in his palm, which is calloused from holding a hockey stick most hours of a day, but very warm.
"Listen, woman, I made you wait because I wanted to take you to a 3 Michelin Star restaurant that specializes in your favorite food." he explains as he opens the door of his car for you to hop in.
"What?" you ask in shock before he closes the door after you. He leans down, looking into your eyes with a smirk across his face.
"You heard me, y/n. Now, don't be so shocked, I told you I would go all out for our date."
"You didn't have to though. You could have taken me to a hole-in-the-wall ramen place and I would have liked it." you say, slightly feeling bad "How did you manage to get a table anyway? These places are booked months ahead."
"The owner is a huge Wizards fan and apparently I'm his kid's favorite player. I had the team sign a jersey and got them season tickets, so they were glad to do me a small favor in return." he explains like it is nothing, but it means the world to you. No one has ever done something so grand for a date with you. It makes your heartbeat go nuts and you can't help but stare at him as he drives. You observe his tattooed hand that is on the armrest, shaking slightly. You smile and instinctively take it in yours, laying your intertwined hands in your lap. He turns his head towards you in shock, but he quickly looks back to the road. The blush from before returns, even his neck turns pink, and you smile, adoring his reactions.
The dinner goes by fast, despite lasting for hours. The food is exquisite, as expected. Most importantly, there's not one dull moment. You and Sukuna talk like you've known each other your whole lives. He asks about your interests, what you like to do in your free time, where you went to school, and about your friends. He seems interested in everything you talk about, he listens with an intensity you find rare. He drinks up every single word that leaves your mouth, he asks questions, and he's genuinely curious about how you perceive the world. You ask him plenty of questions yourself and he answers them gladly. He seems very fond of his brothers, he shows you pictures of them and you observe how Yuji has the same color hair as him and Choso has a very similar line tattooed on his nose as Sukuna's.
"They're coming to town soon, by the way." he comments and your eyes light up.
"How come?"
"It's Yuji's draft year and it's held here in Tokyo. Choso just tags along because he clings to that brat like a leech."
"That's so rude!" you exclaim, but you're smiling. You're aware that Sukuna probably shows his love towards his brothers a little bit peculiarly.
"Well, it's true."
"Do you see a chance of Yuji being drafted by the wizards?" you ask.
"Not really. He is prospected to be in the top three of the draft and we are clinching the playoffs this next game as number one in the league. We probably won't have a pick in the top ten."
"I'm sorry to hear that. It would have been cool for him to have you on the team he's drafted to."
"I don't think so. If I'm being honest, I'm glad there is little to no chance for that to happen as of now."
"Why is that?"
"He won't have a target on his back. Otherwise, people would be mean to him and would rough him up with the sole purpose of pissing me off. This way he can become a professional player without being concussed every game."
"You're very protective of your brothers, huh?" you ask and he smiles.
"You could say that." he smirks "I'm protective of everything I own, you know." he adds looking into your eyes deeply. You know there is a deeper meaning behind his words. He's implying that he would be just as safeguarding about you if you were his girlfriend. You find it hard to believe that a guy like him exists. He is so charming but respectful. He is attentive, you mentioned one time what your favorite food was and he remembered, moreover, he went out of his way to get you the best version available of it.
"Where were you my whole life?" you ask, not realizing that you blurted out your thoughts just like that. You feel embarrassed as your hands fly to your runny mouth, covering it. However, Sukuna just laughs. He rarely laughs like this. It comes deep from within, the type that shakes your whole body and you're sure you're red like a lobster as you observe him.
"Sweetheart, I've been asking that question about you since December." he answers, his charming smile never fading.
"December?" you question.
"Oh, I thought your brother told you about that too." he seems shocked, but he continues "I've spotted you in the crowd at the Family Game in Kyoto. I was mesmerized, I even ran into one of my teammates on accident, I was too preoccupied with looking at the angel in the Wizards jersey."
"Oh, I remember that. I was laughing about that with Akane." you recall and Sukuna frowns "So you've had your eyes sat on me since then?"
"Well, I didn't know I was going to meet you on my first day in Tokyo while I was shirtless, but destiny has its way, I guess."
"You believe we were destined to meet?"
"I told you before, sweetheart, I am superstitious. Take that as you want, but I do think we are here having dinner for a reason." he explains.
Your date ends when the restaurant staff asks you nicely to leave because they've been closed for two hours already. You didn't even realize that all the other customers had left and the staff was ready to close. Sukuna pays for the bill and he sends you a death glare when you offer to pay for your part. "Woman, you won't have to pay for anything while you are out with me." he states, irritation evident in his tone. He also drives you home and walks you to your door. You're wearing his suit jacket, because you were a bit cold, although he turned the heater on in the car.
"Thank you for tonight! I had a lot of fun." you smile up at him, as you're trying to say goodbye on your doorstep.
"There is nothing to be thankful for, you got what you deserve, princess." he says and he seems a little bit disappointed, but you're not able to determine why. Maybe the date didn't go as well in his perspective as you thought.
"Is something wrong? Did I say something to offend you?" you ask in panic and he quickly shakes his head, dismissing it. Suddenly the redness returns to hiss tattooed cheeks and he suddenly seems nervous.
"I just thought I deserved a kiss after that." he whispers shyly, his face down, gaze locked on the tip of his shoes.
It's your turn to laugh at his awkwardness, but you still cup his cheeks in your hands and pull him in for a kiss. You don't quite understand where all this fearlessness came into you from, but you're glad it did because the kiss is magical. It's soft but eager and you can feel him smiling into it as his large hands find their destined spot in your hips. You're the one to break the kiss, but Sukuna pulls you in closer, resting his forehead on yours, and looking deeply into your eyes. His smile reaches his ears and he whispers to you softly:
"I hate to break it to you princess, but I don't think I can go on with my life without doing that every day."
You smile, and respond with a smile just as wide as his "Good, because I don't think I can either."
The next day is game day and you arrive at your brother's apartment beforehand. You usually drive with them to the arena. Sukuna emerges from his room in his game-day suit, his eyes glowing up the moment he sees you there.
"We're gonna be down at the car, Bambi." Sophia says as she and Kento leave in a hurry.
Sukuna steps closer to you, embracing you, his muscular arms around your shoulders.
"Hello, princess! How are you?"
"I'm great, Sukuna. Thank you for asking! How are you?"
"Better now that I know you're coming to the game to cheer me on." you smile, stepping away from the embrace, and you look into his eyes. "Are you gonna give me a good luck kiss or what?"
You're surprised by his boldness, but you leave a peck on his lips nonetheless.
"If I do good today, you're gonna have to do that before every game." he states.
"Alright. You've got yourself a deal." you smile and you urge him out the door, before your brother and his wife could start thinking that you're doing something inappropriate in their home.
Good does not describe the way Sukuna plays that night. He has one of the best games of his life and after the first goal, as his celebration, he looks towards where you're standing and points at you with a wide smile on his face. This is your sign that from now on, you're gonna have to keep your promise of giving him a good luck kiss before every game.
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