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soulmate-game · 3 years

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Curiosity Killed the Exorcist

“And then, see here? You have to be on the lookout for subtle signs like these. This indicates that he’s…” Marinette nodded as Tim continued explaining, pointing out various body language and other clues out on the Batcomputer. It had only been about six months since the Batfam collectively adopted the little ladybug into their menagerie of heroes, and started teaching her deductive habits and skills. She would not allow them anywhere near Paris on pain of death (some of them had already tried, and Bruce was still recovering from the bruise to his ego. The bruise on his ass from being teleported out of the city and onto the stone of the Batcave was gone, though) but she welcomed any help they could give from within Gotham’s city limits.

Usually, at least in the beginning, they did their mentorship at a distance over video call. But then Tim found out her identity, and Marinette made the excuse of wanting to meet with them in person to gauge their trustworthiness for herself and erase their memories of her identity if they failed her test— and, well, it all snowballed from there until she was teleporting to the Batcave every few days for detective lessons. She was practically a Bat herself, if not for her out of theme codename. And she found herself surprisingly comfortable with the thought of them being a… very eccentric extended family.

Tim was flipping to another saved video in the Batcomputer archives to show another example of his current lesson, when Tikki flew up to Marinette in a hurry. She was holding Kaalki’s glasses. The little kwami whispered something in Marinette’s ear, instantly making the teen blanch and force on the glasses.

“Sorry Timmy, gotta cut this short! I’ll come back tomorrow to make up for it! Okay? Okay! Awesome, you’re the best, bye!” She ignored all of Tim’s protests and rapid fire questions, instead opening up a portal and jumping through it as fast as humanly possible. The portal has barely disappeared before an all-too-familiar voice rose up from behind Tim.

“Maybe I’m still drunk, ‘cause I could’a sworn I just saw a portal closing in the damned Batcave, of all places,” the British-accented drawl was accompanied by the flick of a lighter and accompanying fizzle of a flame. Tim groaned, mentally making a note to ask how in the world Marinette had known that John “Annoying asshole” Constantine was showing up soon, and if he could be in on the warning next time. Bruce, cowl still off, walked over from where he had been sparring with Damian and crossed his arms. He had also heard Marinette’s hasty exit, and made a few mental notes of his own before focusing on the exorcist in front of him.

“What do you want, Constantine?” he grumbled. Any time the blond brit showed up, things only got far more complicated than he ever enjoyed. And he always gave Bruce a migraine, to boot.

“Two things actually, Batsy,” John held up to fingers as his free hand tucked his lighter away in his pocket. His unlit cigarette stayed in his mouth though, probably just for the familiar feel of it. “One; I’m gonna need you to tell me why there was a portal closing when I walked in, because I’ll be honest. The implications there are way more interesting than what I came here for in the first place.”

“None of your business. What’s the second thing?” Bruce immediately shot him down, but John was not one to be deterred. He never fucking was.

“But you hate magic! You make sure I know that all too bloody well every time I pay you a visit, so why the sudden change in heart? Huh?”

“Drop it, Constantine. What. Do you. Want?”

“Fine, fine. I need your help with…”

— * — * — * — * — *

A week later, Marinette was sitting with Jason and Damian in one of the manor’s sitting rooms, the three of them just minding their own business and silently enjoying one another’s presence. Even if two of them would never admit it. Jason was reading Jane Eyre for the millionth time, Damian was leaning against Titus on the ground as he sketched, and Marinette was embroidering a sunhat. Unfortunately for her, Alfred the Cat was currently asleep on her lap and thus holding her hostage.

Even as Tikki flew up to her ear in a panic and whispered, making Marinette prick herself with her needle. She hissed for a second but shrugged off the familiar pain, much more concerned with whatever news Tikki had given her. Damian and Jason were already on high alert from the second that a whispered curse had left her lips, and were staring straight at her and her kwami and Marinette frantically tried to find a way to get up without awakening the cat sleeping on her.

“Uh, what’s wrong?” Jason asked, feeling thoroughly confused and left out. On one hand, he knew that if they were in physical danger she would have moved Alfred the Cat without hesitation. On the other, he did not like the sheer amount of anxiety he could see her experiencing. Marinette’s frantic eyes shot over to him, pupils mere pinpricks and hands mouth agape as she tried to form some sort of plan.

“Uh— “

“Ah! You must be the fair maiden that the Bats are comfortable with using magic around them,” John goddamned Constantine threw the door to the sitting room open wide, making it bounce off of the wall and lightly smack back against his shoulder. He ignored it as he grinned at the three younger people in the room, waltzing in casual as anything. He wagged a finger at her playfully. “I’ve been awfully curious about you, ya know? Brucie boy knows a shit ton of magic users, but he never likes seein’ any of us do our thing. And to not only allow you to teleport without any apparent discomfort but to actively protect your identity from me? Now that’s a damn accomplishment and I really gotta applaud you for it,” he mockingly clapped his hands a few times. “So what’s your secret, huh? I won’t tattle.”

“No thanks. Kaalki, a little help?” Marinette carefully pushed Alfred the Cat off of her lap before diving into the portal that Kaalki whipped up for her, the entire process happening so fast that Constantine couldn’t even get out a proper “hey!” before she was gone and the portal closed. He just nodded, hooking his thumbs in his pockets.

“Ya know what? Fair. That’s fair.”

“Goddamn it, Constantine!” Jason threw up his hands in frustration. “Why the fuck do you have to scare away one of the only sane people in this family?”

“Part of my charm, little red riding hood.”

— * — * — * — * — *

“You know, I’ve been pretty damn nice not teleporting right over to you whenever you disappear. So why don’t you just tell me why you’re avoiding me now that we happen to be in the same room by complete accident, huh?” John asked from where he sat in one of Bruce’s lounge chairs sipping on a beer. Marinette mimed choking him, clearly fed up. He had been trying to have a conversation with her for the past three months, ever since that one time he caught the tail end of her portal closing in the Batcave. Three. Long. Months. And he hadn’t given up, because something about this little Parisian teenager intrigued him. She was sixteen, that much he had gathered from the Bats. But to be sixteen and not only in possession of the Horse miraculous but also clearly the Ladybugs, since he had seen Tikki more than once as well, now that was interesting.

Anybody being in the possession of more than one Miraculous was already cause enough to be keeping an eye on them, which was why he had been keeping an eye on the Paris situation and had pieced together on his own that the presence of Tikki meant that this little parisian teenager was none other than Ladybug herself. Now, that? That was a whole new level of concerning, especially since he knew firsthand that the old Grand Guardian was gone and passed his title down to— yeah, Ladybug.

After that deduction, his interest in Marinette had swiftly switched from curiosity to fuck-I-need-to-know-what’s-going-on-here. Because no kid should have to deal with that kind of weight, and Constantine always looked out for kids when he could.

But right then, Marinette was glaring at him. She had been just coming over for a normal “family” dinner with the Waynes, which she attended from time to time. And apparently they had decided to have Constantine already over so that they could chaperone a meeting between them that would hopefully appease the stupid british magic user enough that he left them all alone again until the next time he needed help.

“Believe me when I say, you’d rather not know,” she replied sharply, glaring Dick. He was the one who had convinced her to come despite her recent close calls with Constantine in the past few days. He studiously avoided her gaze. “I just would rather not cross your path, and there’s no reason for us to interact. Why do you care, anyway?”

“You see, now that is an excellent question!” he chugged the last of his beer and gestured to her with the empty bottle. “Normally, I wouldn’t give a flying rat’s ass. But I’ve put two and two together, since I know who Tikki is,” he nodded to the red and black Kwami. “And maybe I just wanna keep an eye on the new Grand Guardian to make sure she’s doin’ alright. That’s an awful lot of magic and responsibility that you don’t deserve, but I’m not about to try to take it away. Keepin’ an eye on you is the next best thing.”

“Try again,” Marinette shot back, crossing her arms. “You were interested in me before you learned about me being Ladybug.”

“I’m nosy, what do you want me to say? I saw a portal in Batman’s man-cave, I get curious. Sue me.”

“Well. I have Bruce and everyone else already watching out for me, so you can leave me alone now. If I need your help, I’ll make sure to ask every other magic user first before contacting you.”

“Woah, now what’s all this venom for?”

“Uh, maybe we should go and actually eat dinner?” Dick tried to step in, hands up. Constantine had stood up from the chair he was in, which was usually a cue to change the subject as fast as possible. “Before Alfred has to come get us?”

“Maybe I’ll be less venomous if you let the subject drop and leave me alone!”

“Context would be nice, though.”

“Seriously guys, let’s go! Food!” Dick was once again ignored.

“Context is the last thing you need in this situation,” Marinette’s voice was suddenly soft, her arms dropping to her sides. “We’ve had this conversation so many times in so many now-deleted timelines. Just drop it this time.”

“If those timelines are now-deleted, then I obviously don’t remember what’s so bad about telling me why you’re acting like I’m some hated family member you’re avoiding!”

Silence.

Pure. Fucking. Silence. As they all watch with front row seats as Marinette flinches at the word ‘family’.

Pure silence as Constantine’s shoulders drop at the sight of her flinch, realization slapping itself on his face.

“No.”

“See? I fucking knew you would— that this would happen. This always happens, you always hate finding it out, but you’re so— so stubborn!” Marinette was blinking away tears, digging in her pockets and bringing out Kaalki’s glasses. “You’ll drop it now, at least. You always do.”

“Now what is that supposed to mean?” Constantine rubbed his forehead, still trying to sort through his amalgam of emotions. Marinette just shook her head, turning to Kaalki.

“Do you mind showing Monsieur Constantine the way out, Kaalki? I’ll grab you a load of sugar cubes afterward.”

“No, wait, hang on a second!”

A portal opened up under him, making John “Stubborn Idiot” Constantine drop ten feet down onto the hardwood, polished floor of his house. His bruised tailbone would take a while to heal, but his frazzled mind was by far the more concerning development. He staggered to his feet, reaching for the nearest bottle of tequila.

“Ugh, fuck my damn life.”

— * — * — * — * — *

“Marinette..?” Damian nudged the girl with his shoulder, frowning. It was after dinner that same day, and as much as he hated to admit it he had grown to actually like having her around. She was a good friend to have. And seeing her slumped back on one of their sofas, sketchbook covering her face and not a single rambling conversation to be had or heard? It was very concerning. She just made a groaning sound to answer him, prompting his frown to deepen. “Are you alright?”

“I just can’t believe that such a sweet, adorable thing like you is half made up of Constantine’s genes,” Jason mused bluntly from the opposite couch, where he tossed a rubber ball up and down out of boredom. “But now I see where you get all of your Disaster Bi-ness from.”

“Shut uuuuup,” She groaned, chucking her sketchbook at him. He caught it in midair, replacing his rubber ball with it and tossing it up and down in the air. “I’m just frustrated. This timeline is still perfectly stable, so I can’t erase it. And I can’t exactly ask ‘hey, can someone commit a horrid atrocity that makes this timeline split from the main one so that I can erase it and we can start over from four months ago?’ because that would be horribly irresponsible of me. But seriously, Jason. If you’re gonna ever commit, like, city-wise arson? I’d probably condone it right now if only so I have an excuse to use time travel to get out of this situation.”

“Not committing arson unless you give me a better reason for it, Pigtails.”

“Damn.”

“But are you okay?” Damian asked again, seeing as she had completely ignored him.

“I’m fine, Damian,” she finally sighed. “And I know how this is gonna go. He’s going to totally ignore me now, until we meet during some magical crisis and he only interacts with me when necessary. Then he pretends we never met, we have a private little one-sided whisper-argument about how he will never make a good father figure and I would be better off leaving him alone, blah blah blah. Avoidance is a coping mechanism I guess I inherited from him.”

“Guess it’s a good thing I’m trying to bite that in the bud then, eh?” Marinette startled out of her sitting position, seeing John stumble into the room…

Drunk off his ass. But apparently still at least mildly coherent.

“I agree with deleted-me’s, I’m not gonna be a dad. Not me,” he tripped, landing on his still-bruised ass and hissing in pain before continuing from the floor; “So if you’re looking for another Daddy dearest, that ain’t me.”

“See, I knew this is how you’d—”

“Let me finish,” he interrupted. “I don’t know how long the booze is gonna last and I need it’s courage here. ‘Kay? ‘Kay. Where was I? Right. But I know magic, ya know. The kind that doesn’t rely on little bobblehead gods to do. I got— like, a million books. Shit ton of books. At my place. Ya can read ‘em. My books. At my place. But I ain’t gonna parent, but I can lend ya books. Maybe give magic advice. Teach a little. Little bit. Didn’t think I’d have a child, but apparently I do and she’s the fuckin’ grand guardian and a damn hero, and I don’t know how the fuck I was able to help make someone like that. But whatever, it’s not like the world’s ever fuckin’ been easy on me,” He pulled out a sample-sized bottle of whiskey from one of the pockets on the inside of his trench coat and chugged it. After a brief wince and hiss at the burn, he kept rambling. “My door’s open, is what I’m tryin’ to say. No guarantee I’ll be in any state to talk to when you walk through it, but it’s open.”

Deciding to steadfastly ignore the tears streaming down her face, Marinette just swallowed thickly and nodded.

“I, uh. I think I can work with that.”

John barely made it to the nearby bin in time to vomit into it.

— * — * — * — * — *

I hate my imagination sometimes, guys. I started imagining a convo between Mari and Constantine at like 4am and it wouldn't leave me alone until I got it down. but by the time I wrote it, I kinda forgot like 60% of the original convo and just winged it. And this was born. I 100% blame @multifandomscribette because their Bio!dad John Constantine headcannons are amazing and even though this isn't in that universe, those headcannons are exactly what inspired this. So blame them, lol.

#dc x mlb #ml x dc #mlb x dc #maribat fanfic #maribat #maribat fic #miraculous ladybug x dc #bio!dad John Constantine

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cyndavilachase · 4 years

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I’m Looking Forward Now 💖Thank you and good bye

So, it’s been a little over a week since Steven Universe Future ended…

I’ve been hesitant to write this, honestly, but I’m tired of holding myself back from properly expressing myself in fear of appearing overly invested in the media I consume, even in private. Writing helps me organize my thoughts and feelings, and I feel like these thoughts in particular may resonate with many, so I want to share them. I want to talk about what Steven Universe has done for me personally, both as an artist, and as a person.

I’ve been around since the day the first episode of the original series aired. I actually remember when Steven Universe was just a logo on Wikipedia’s “List of Upcoming Cartoon Network Shows” list, back when I was a freshman in high school. It piqued my interest, but when commercials finally dropped for it, I thought it was going to be bad because of the way marketing handled introducing Steven as a likeable character. There was still something about it that made me want to give it a chance though, so I went online and watched the pilot before the first episode's release. I was hooked immediately. I knew I was going to love it, and I did. I fell so absolutely in love with Steven as a character, and the world that he and the gems lived in. I became obsessed. I was always so excited for new episodes to come out. Little did I know what else it would do for me as I went through my adolescence alongside it.

As the show progressed, it was evident that what I wanted out of a western animated childrens’ cartoon was finally coming into fruition: this show was becoming serialized. There was continuity, there was plot, there was character development-- it was getting deep. It was pushing the groundwork that Adventure Time laid out even further (thank you, Adventure Time).

I will give credit where credit is due: earlier western childrens’ cartoons I grew up with like Hey Arnold, and Rugrats, among others, also touched on heavy topics, but Steven Universe was able to take similar ideas (and even more complex ones, concerning mental health and relationships) and expand on them outside of contained episodes and/or short arcs. These themes, which were a part of the show’s overarching story, spanned across its entirety. Continuity was rampant.

What did this mean? It meant kids cartoons didn’t have to be silly and fun all the time and characters weren’t just actors playing a part in 11-minute skits. Steven and the gems would remember things that happened to them, and it affected them and how they would function and play a part in their story. This was a huge deal to me as a teenager. I always wanted the cartoons I grew up with featuring kid characters to feel more. In my own work, I often felt discouraged when combining a fun, cutesy western art style with themes as dark or layered as anime would cover. I always thought it had to be one or the other because an audience wouldn’t take a combination of the two seriously enough, based on discussions I had with classmates, friends, and online analysis I read at the time. Steven Universe proved to me otherwise. This show was opening the door for future cartoons exploring in-depth, adult concepts. I felt so seen as a kid, and was inspired to stick with what I love doing.

I was actually very worried about the show’s survival. It was in fact immensely underrated and the fandom was miniscule. Then in 2014, JailBreak dropped, and it’s popularity exploded. Part of it was because of the complex plot and the themes it was covering like I mentioned, but also because of its representation.

I remember when fandom theorized that Garnet was a fusion due to grand, tragic reasons. Turns out, she’s simply a metaphor for a very loving w|w relationship. This was huge. I cannot stress how important it is that we continue to normalize healthy canon queer relationships in childens’ media, and Steven Universe finally was the first to do that proper. Introducing these themes offers the chance for a kid to sit there and ask themselves, “Why is this demonized by so many people?” I asked myself exactly that. Ruby and Sapphire were my cartoon LGBT rep. They were the first LGBT couple I ever ecstatically drew fanart of. I was dealing with a lot of internalized homophobia at the time, and they showed me that I was allowed to love women and feel normal about it. The process of overcoming this was a long one, but they played a part in my very first steps into becoming comfortable with my sexuality. I could go on and on about it’s representation in general-- how it breaks the mold when it comes to showcasing a diverse set of characters in design, in casting, and in breaking gender roles. It’s focus on love and empathy. Steven himself is a big boy, but he's the protagonist, and the show never once makes fun of his weight, or any other bigger characters for that matter. It wasn’t hard to see why the fandom had grown so large.

Fandom was always a joy for me. It was a hobby I picked up when I was in middle school, like many of us here did. I would always cater my experience to fun, and fun only. I only started getting more deeply involved in SU’s fandom when I had just turned into an adult. During the summer of 2016, between my first and second year of college, I drew for the show almost every day non-stop when the Summer of Steven event was going on and posted them online. This was a form of practice for me in order to become not just more comfortable with experimenting with my art, but also to meet new artists, make new friends, and learn to interact with strangers without fear. I dealt with a ton of anxiety when I was in high school. When I was a senior applying to art school for animation, I decided I was going to overcome that anxiety. I made plans to take baby steps to improve myself over the course of my 4 years of college. Joining the fandom, while unforeseen, was definitely a part of that process. I started feeling more confident in sharing my ideas, even if they were fan-made. I fell in love with storyboarding after that summer, when I took my first storyboarding class, and genuinely felt like I was actually getting somewhere with all of this. I remember finally coming to a point in my classes where I could pitch and not feel hopelessly insecure about it. I was opening up more to my friends and peers.

But this process, unfortunately, came to a screeching halt.

My life completely, utterly crumbled under me in the Fall of 2017 due to a series of blows in my personal life that happened in the span of just a couple weeks. My mental health and sense of identity were completely destroyed. All of that confidence I had worked for-- completely ruined. I was alone. I nearly died. My stay at college was extended to 4 and half years, instead of the 4 I had intended. I lost my love for animation-- making it, and watching it. I could no longer watch Steven Universe with the same love I had for it beforehand. It’s a terrible thing, trying to give your attention to something you don’t love anymore, and wanting so desperately to love again. I dropped so many things I loved in my life, including the fandom.

Healing was a long and complicated road. I continued to watch the show all the way up until Change Your Mind aired in the beginning of 2019, and while I still felt empty, that was definitely a turning point for me with it’s encapsulation of self-love. I was hoping James Baxter would get to work on Steven Universe since he guest-animated on Adventure Time, and it was incredible seeing that wish actually come true. The movie came out and while I enjoyed it and thought highly of it, I was still having issues letting myself genuinely love things again, old and new. It was especially difficult because cartoons were my solace as a kid, when things got rough at home. I remember feeling sad because the show ended, and not getting the chance to love it again like I used to while it was still going.

By the time Steven Universe Future was announced, I was finally coming around. I was genuinely starting to feel excitement for art and animation again. I wasn’t expecting there to be a whole new epilogue series, but happily ever after, there we were! Prickly Pear aired, and the implications it left in terms of where the story was going did it. I was finally ready to let myself take the dive back into fandom in January of this year. My art blew up, something I wasn’t expecting considering my 2-year hiatus. Following this, I was invited into a discord server containing some of the biggest writers, artists, editors, and analysts in the fandom. I had no idea there were so many talented people in the fandom, some already with degrees, some getting their degrees-- creating stuff for it on the side just for fun. The amount of passion and productivity level here is insane, and so is the amount of discussion that has come out of it.

I didn’t realize it at first, but it was actually helping me gain back the courage to share ideas. I lost my confidence in pitching while I was taking the time to heal, and graduating meant there would no longer be a classroom setting I could practice in. This group helped immensely.

I have made so many friends through this wonderful series, and I have so many fond memories talking to like-minded creatives, getting feedback and a myriad of sources for inspiration, as well as all of the memes and jokes and weekly theorizations that came about as we all waited on the edges of our seats for episodes to air. I needed this so badly, I needed to get back in touch with my roots, when I would go absolutely hog-wild over a cartoon I loved with people who loved it as much I did. Future has been a blessing for me in this way. I graduated feeling like I was back at square-one, but now I feel like I’m on my way again.

It’s 2020 and while I’m doing great right now, I am honestly still recovering from the total exhaustion that followed after graduating a few months ago, and finally leaving the campus where my life fell apart behind. Needless to say, watching Future was like looking into a mirror. Watching one of my favorite characters of all time-- one that grew up with me-- go through so many of the same things I went through not too long ago was absolutely insane to watch unfold. It’s such an important thing too, to show a character go through the process of breaking down over trauma and all the nasty things that come with it, and to have them go on the road to healing. Steven got that therapy. He wasn’t blamed. The gems were called out. The finale was everything I could have ever hoped for. The catharsis I experienced watching it was out of this world.

As I continue my own healing journey, I will always look up to the storyboard artists, revisionists, and designers that I have been following over these past 7 years, as well as the new ones introduced in Future. It's been such a joy watching these artists release their promo art for episodes, talk about their experiences working on the show, and post the work they've done for it alongside episodes airing.

Thank you Rebecca Sugar, the Crewniverse, and the fans, for making this such a truly wonderful and unique experience. Thank you for reminding me that I am, and always will be, an artist, a cartoonist, and a fan. Thank you, my followers, for the overwhelmingly positive response to my artwork. I have had so much fun interacting and discussing the show with you all again over these past few months. Steven Universe and it’s fandom will always have a special place in my heart, and it will always be a classic that I will return to for comfort and inspiration for decades to come. I am sad that the cartoon renaissance is over, but so many doors have been opened thanks to this show. I am so, so excited to see what this show will inspire in the future, and I hope one day I get the opportunity to be a part of that.

Goodbye Steven, thank you for everything. I wish you healing, and I wish Rebecca and the team a well-deserved rest. ♥️

-Cynthia D.

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danteinthedevildom · 3 years

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A Royal Pajama Party “Analysis” - Part 1 (of 7)

I mentioned (a while ago, oops) that I had a lot of thoughts on Diavolo’s character as revealed in the A Royal Pajama Party Devilgram. I ended up with so many screenshots, I couldn’t contain them all to a single post - so I’ve had to split it up into seven parts (ironically).

For this first part, I’m focusing on the free chapter. Spoilers under the cut, of course!

To start off with, I’m going to focus on this one, single screenshot. Despite how short it is, there’s a lot that’s revealed in just six words.

My main point of focus? Diavolo is so genuinely excited to spend time with you - actual time, not time he’s tried to slot in with some pretend event to trick you into hanging out with him - that he’s been actively waiting for you to turn up.

This is something I’ve noted before, but we know from previous Devilgrams that Diavolo doesn’t often get to spend time with other beings simply because nobody really wants to. He openly admits that he has to trick his friends into it by planning parties - as seen in the Concealed in Colour Devilgram - and that he struggles to get out of that habit now that he’s found someone (you) willing to visit the castle just to see him. No other alterior motives required.

And here he is, finally setting something up without trying to trick you into it! He doesn’t feel as unsure about your friendship with him anymore; he’s aware - and accepted - that you are there for him, to see him, and that he really can just ask for your time and have you willingly show up. So he’s created this little, private sleepover just to hang out with you. That shows a heck of a lot of improvement in his confidence with you and the strength of your friendship (or relationship, depending).

It also just shows the sheer excitement he has towards it. He’s anticipating the moment you arrive with such ferver that he’s been actively waiting for you. I’ll go over this a little more beneath another screenshot, but this really does highlight A) just how much it means to him that you’re coming over for a hangout and nothing more, and B) how rarely this happens for him that it’s an event worth waiting for.

This is, mostly, just exceedingly cute, in my eyes.

Firstly, the onesies are canonically a gift from Diavolo due to his enthusiasm for the concept of sleepovers and his enjoyment at having everyone wear one (which he believes makes it feel like a festivity). He’s so into the idea of everyone doing something together that, even if they aren’t specifically there with him, he’s had these outfits made for the beings he considers friends to unify them in fun and merriment.

These are things he’s never been able to do before. With his isolated and sheltered childhood, the experience of sleepovers with friends - something more than normal for most (if not all) of us - would have been something he completely missed out on due to the impossibility. He couldn’t get anyone close enough to him to even make friends, let alone have them spend the night with him playing games and having fun.

So, this act of making onesies and sending them out? This is probably his own way of replicating that experience. He’s aware that a lot of the demons - and possibly the angels - won’t be too enthused with the events he has planned, and might begrudge even showing up. Doing this instead - letting them have their own sleepovers but with his gift - is like giving them that freedom and distance from him while still being involved.

It also shows the sort of relationship he wants to have with them. Yes, he canonically needs to send everyone an outfit since that’s how outfits in these events work - but the devs could have just as easily come up with some other reason for them all having onesies. Considering the main event, it could’ve literally just been “these are outfits forced on them as part of the curse, and are retained afterwards as a reminder of the experience”.

To state, then, that Diavolo had these made for everyone - and combined with another screenshot I’ll show later, where Diavolo announces that he believes onesies to be part of the sleepover experience - shows that he wants the other main characters to be the kind of friends comfortable and happy enough in his company to willingly spend extended time with him.

(It also shows, I think, that they’re the friends he always hoped for as a child. You often find that people who were isolated as children or forced to grow up too quickly try to recreate moments they never got to experience in their childhood once they’re adults. I fully believe Diavolo is doing this. He’s always doing this; it’s why he can be so immature at times. He wasn’t allowed to be a normal kid, so he’s being a big kid now to make up for lost time. It’s why it’s so important to him that he does this sort of thing with others.)

Secondly, I love the wording of the second screenshot: “I’ve had yours specially tailored”.

This is a way around not showing MC with a onesie, and allowing all of us to create our own, sure. However, it’s also Diavolo openly admitting that he’s put extra work (and no doubt time and money) into having MC’s outfit created. After all, it’s not likely due to us being human; Solomon’s a human too, and he got his onesie without issue (Simeon explains that Purgatory Hall get theirs at the same time in his SSR Devilgram, Purgatory’s Pajama Party).

The implication? Diavolo didn’t just want to give us a onesie; he wanted to give us the perfect onesie.

Do you recall that I said I’d come back to Diavolo’s waiting later? This is why. (Please excuse the shoddy editing to remove my own MC’s name-)

This exchange says so much about Diavolo’s relationship with you. Not only is he anticipating your arrival, he’s anticipating it with such unrestrained glee that he - the Prince of the Devildom; most powerful demon in his entire kingdom - ignored typical royal protocol and sat down in front of the castle entrance, impatiently waiting for your arrival, so he could be the first person you saw as you entered.

The way he words it, you can imagine him bubbling with excitement, eyes constantly flickering over to the clock, shifting in his seat until the need to pace drew him to his feet, counting down the minutes until your scheduled arrival. Then, maybe fifteen minutes early - or thirty, or an hour - he can’t contain himself anymore. The sheer excitement - the knowledge that you’ll be there soon, there of your own free will, there to spend time with him - finally gets the better of him, and he sneaks away to stand before the grand front doors, eagerly awaiting the moment they open to reveal your much-loved form.

I’d definitely say it was a substantial amount of time, too. Fifteen minutes at the least, and maybe an hour at the most; Barbatos seems genuinely shocked, and the fact he says “all this time” implies Diavolo’s been guarding the door for a while. Longer than any reasonable demon - let alone a royal one - should have been.

This childish excitement really does show just how much of that lost youth Diavolo is getting back through MC. You let him experience things he never got to; things that were utterly normal for everyone else. He gets to replace those memories of loneliness and isolation with these moments of exhilaration and unrepentant joy - all because you treat him like someone normal. Someone worthy of care.

Additionally, the extent to his feelings towards you? Fully encompassed in that screenshot: “For [MC], no amount of time is too long.”

He cares about you and enjoys your company to such a degree, he’ll wait however long it takes just to see you. Every moment spent counting the minutes and seconds is worth it if, at the end, he gets to spend time with you. You - the one being he’s fully confident enjoys his presence as much as he enjoys yours - mean so much to him, you’re fully capable of making the Prince of the Devildom wait for hours, and he’ll be perfectly content to just sit there until you arrive.

What other being in all the Three Realms can claim the same thing? That they made the Prince wait for their arrival, and rather than be met with annoyance and disregard, they walked in to a veritable man-puppy so overwhelmingly enthused to see them he had to be scolded by his butler for breaking protocol?

The best part, of course, is Barbatos’ response. He sounds so resigned, so disbelieving; like a mother sighing over their child’s ridiculous behaviour.

This isn’t the first time Diavolo’s done something like this. This isn’t the first time Barbatos has had to reprimand Diavolo for acting in an un-princely manner over you. It’s something we’ve seen before, of course - in the aforementioned Concealed in Colour Devilgram, Barbatos teases Diavolo for constantly inviting MC over just to see you - but in this instance? When it’s not just Diavolo making up some scheme to lure you to the castle? It implies something else.

Firstly, it implies Diavolo’s behaviour regarding you is completely different to his behaviour regarding anyone else. That sort of childish, gleeful, almost puppyish excitement? The enthusiasm that makes him lose his poise and authority, and drives him to do such expressive things as wait to greet you at the front door? That’s very likely reserved only for you. It’s only you that he so wholly loses his shit over, to be absolutely blunt about it. It’s only you he feels so strongly for as to make such a bold declaration over.

Secondly, though? It implies this sort of... length, I think, is the best way to word it; the lengths Diavolo will go for you, even in really small, insignificant ways. “Whenever anything concerns [you] in the slightest”, Diavolo will forego all set boundries and standards. That feeling of resignation is Barbatos chastising Diavolo’s utter willingness to do... pretty much anything for you.

He’s just so excited that you’re there, he overreacts. From the tone, the sprite, and the wording used, I could fully imagine that, when it comes to you, Diavolo isn’t above diving out windows just to keep good on a promise. He isn’t above going the extra mile for your sake, whether asked for or not.

And though it’s done in a humorous way here - really just implying that Barbatos is a bit done with Diavolo’s sillier antics when it comes to you - it does make me wonder just how far that goes. It’s when anything concerns you “in the slightest”. Not just directly, but anything that has you in it even tangentially.

How much has Diavolo done, or planned, or changed, solely because it might have a glancing side-effect that makes you smile? How many times has Barbatos had to mention your name in something to get Diavolo to take an active interest in it? How many times has, “I believe MC would benefit from this...” actually worked to get Diavolo to consider a proposed deal?

More than that, however; if these are the lengths Diavolo goes to when you’re only slightly involved... what lengths would he go to if you’re more directly involved? What lengths would he go to if your involvement was something dangerous? Something that could have a rippling effect across the Three Realms?

You’re the only true friend Diavolo really has. He’s admitted before, more than once - both in the main game and in Devilgrams - that he’s aware both Lucifer and Barbatos don’t consider him as much of a friend as he considers them, and although we know of someone like Queen Rose, we don’t actually know the full extent of their friendship. Certainly not all too close, if the Dame event was anything to go by; it still felt stiff and formal, and Diavolo was still putting on airs.

You’re the only friend he can really let loose with; can laugh and play and spend time with, without having to do so through a veneer of formality.

He can be himself around you. Not the Prince, but Diavolo.

How far would Diavolo go to preserve the only friend he’s ever had?

+++

This post is the longest one of the lot, so if you made it this far - thank you! Hopefully it’s been an enjoyable and easy read.

The next set of screenshots are a bit more clear and don’t require so much in-depth thinking, but still provide plenty food for thought regarding Diavolo and his relationship with MC. They also go into content that you have to use Story Keys to unlock, so if you’re unwilling to see spoilers, you’ll have to end your reading here.

That said, if you’ve already unlocked the Devilgram (or are curious about what happens next/how much we learn about Diavolo in the next chapter), you can hop right over to part 2!

#obey me diavolo #obey me analysis #Character analysis more like but... you know #obey me

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modernpaw · 3 years

Text

Endorphins

Dan Jones x Female Reader

Summary: While running around The Capitol one morning, you chance upon Dan from work.

CW: Mentions of sex, a little swearing, implied unsafe sex, AFAB reader

Words: 1.8k

This day is not going well, and it's barely even begun. You sigh as you hobble over to the steps of the Lincoln Memorial, keeping most of your weight on one ankle. You came here at the break of dawn to get some exercise, to stimulate the production of those elusive endorphins, which you were then hoping would help you manage the mounting stress at work. But because you're not an active person in general, and because you're still getting used to your new running shoes, you ended up landing awkwardly on your left foot and twisting your ankle. So much for stress relief.

Maybe it's just slightly sprained, you think as you carefully lower yourself on the steps. You try to rotate the affected ankle and wince when you feel a twinge of pain.

Okay, definitely sprained.

You're not sure how you're going to walk back to your car, much less drive back home. The worst part of it all is that you haven't even been running long enough to make the injury worth it.

The view of the Washington Memorial looks beautiful though.

You lean back on both hands, deciding to enjoy the peace and quiet, before you allow yourself to continue worrying. After all, it's not like you can change anything. What was that quote you saved on your Pinterest board just the other day? The only thing you can control is how you react to things out of your control.

At 5:30 in the morning, and on a Saturday at that, the entire area is devoid of the usual tourist crowd. There are a few early birds, but because they know how not to hurt themselves within the first 20 minutes of their run, none of them linger around in one spot for too long.

Certainly none of them are paying you any attention. Except maybe for that one person who looks like he's headed your way.

Great. Maybe if you make yourself look as nonchalant as possible, he wouldn't realize that you've twisted your ankle. The last thing you want right now is to be given unsolicited advice. You already get a lot of that from work, thankyouverymuch.

He gets closer and closer, and to your mortification, you realize that it's not a stranger at all, but someone you actually know.

Oh for heaven's sake, you think exasperatedly. You came here hoping to find a solution to your work stress, not to exacerbate it. Why the fuck is the universe sending you Dan Jones right now?

It's probably too much to hope that he hasn't seen you.

Dan is one of the staffers at the Senate office. You may have harbored a tiny bit of a crush on him when you first started working in an adjacent office, but that kindling of a spark was promptly extinguished when he challenged you to rethink your stance on an environment policy and basically implied that you were naive and idealistic. The thing is, he wasn't even rude or obnoxious about it. He was just right.

And you didn't like that. Well, not specifically the fact that he was right, but that you were wrong. You still don't. You worked your ass your entire life just to avoid being in that situation, and it took Dan all but one minute to dismantle all your hard work. Okay, that's a bit melodramatic, but he did shake your self-confidence a bit. I mean, it was your first week at work!

Had he been mean or awful about it, your ego might have forgiven him more, might have found solace in the fact that there are one or two things that are deplorable about him, but he wasn't and there aren't. And so you tamped down on that crush hard. Made sure it never reared its ugly head again and worked your ass even harder to make up for that initial embarrassment.

Now, though, it looks like you're being served another slice of humble pie.

"Hey," he greets out in a friendly tone. "I thought that was you."

"Hi, Dan," you greet back. "Er, fancy meeting you here."

You try not to cringe at the response you just gave. It sounds like lazily written dialogue in a spy movie, or worse, the first 20 seconds of a cheap porno.

Dan is, of course, unaware of your private turmoil. "Oh yeah, I come here most mornings," he answers, casually pulling his right leg up from behind with his opposite hand to stretch his quads. "I didn't know you run as well."

You try not to stare at his thighs, but you can't help it when they're right in your line of sight.

"Oh I don't run often," you say. And then not knowing what possessed you, you add, "To be honest, I don't run at all. This is probably my first time running in, I don't know, five or six years."

Dan does the same quick quad stretch with his other leg before settling down next to you with his knees to his chest. As he interlocks his hands over them casually, you turn your head to look back at the Washington Monument, so that you don't accidentally get caught staring.

Jesus, does this man ever not look good? Anyone can look dapper in a properly fitting blazer, but Dan is just wearing a nondescript hoodie and running shorts.

He says something, but it doesn't register, so you ask him to repeat it again.

"I said would you like to run together?" he says. "No pressure though."

Reminded of your predicament by his choice of words, you wonder if you should just tell Dan that you sprained your ankle.

"I can't," you answer weakly.

You can tell that your own choice of words has confused him, but he doesn't press, only nods his acceptance. He moves to get up, and your brain, probably drugged up due to a belated release of endorphins, pushes you to say something.

"I twisted my ankle!" you blurt out.

A look of concern passes over his face and he moves a few steps down to sit right beside where your feet are currently stretched out.

"Which ankle?" he asks.

"The left one," you answer and you wince again as your injury makes itself known. Is it just your imagination or did the pain get worse?

"You should have said something earlier," he murmurs. Before you can react to that, he hovers his hands over your left ankle. "May I?"

Once again, your traitorous self answers and you nod your head.

Dan carefully unties your shoelaces, taking the time to loosen them all the way up before gingerly cradling your ankle with one hand and oh-so-gently removing your shoe with the other. As he proceeds to remove your sock, his fingers lightly brush against your skin, and a gasp escapes you.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs softly, mistaking your response for one of pain. "I'll be fast. I just want to see how swollen it is."

You give him the green light, and he continues to divest your foot of the white cotton. The more skin he unveils, the more the two of you realize just how serious the sprain is. Your ankle has practically doubled in size, confirming your earlier suspicion that you won't be able to drive back home.

"We should get this iced and then elevated," he says, looking back up at you.

"I don't really have anything with me," you answer.

He gently lowers your foot back down, but doesn't take his hand off it. In fact, as he takes a moment to contemplate something, you feel him caress your ankle reassuringly. The pain on your foot gradually blurs, and you barely manage to hold in a moan of pleasure, pumped up on endorphins as you are.

"I have an ice pack in my car," he volunteers. "It's not that far. I can go get it now, but I also think it's best if I drive you home, so you can rest properly."

Oh, you think to yourself, surprised. While a part of you probably knew that he wouldn't just leave you alone, you didn't expect him to go so far as to take you home. Then again, it's also the most Dan thing he can do. Your mixed reaction must have shown on your face because he quickly backtracks.

"But, uh, perhaps there's someone we can call to pick you up?'" he asks, a bit of red creeping up the sides of his ears. "I'm sorry I didn't mean to overstep."

He looks adorable like this. Dan is normally such an infallible force at work. In the last 12 months since you met him, you've never seen him appear this flustered once, and your stomach can't help but flip flop at the possibility that this is all because of you.

"No, I'm good," you say with a smile. "I did bring my car though."

He still looks a bit red, but you see some of his composure returning. "We can come back for it later. Right now, though, this foot is our priority. It's criminal how long we've allowed it to remain untreated."

Is Dan Jones flirting with you? You decide that the only way to find out is to flirt back. "That's a serious allegation, Mr. Jones," you remark coyly, not missing the way his breath hitches ever so slightly at the way you addressed him. "Perhaps this warrants an internal investigation"

"Oh I'll even lead it, ma'am," he answers, his eyes darkening as he meets your gaze. "And I'll make sure to be very thorough."

You shudder at the implication of his words. There's something about Dan that makes you think that he could be a gentle lover, but would also not hesitate to literally fuck you six ways into Sunday if you ask for it. You feel yourself getting wetter by the second. God, it feels like the endorphins are really working your body double time.

Dan turns his back to you and bends his knees slightly. "Get on," he says, tapping his shoulder with one hand, further cementing your theory that this man will absolutely ruin you in bed. "I'll give you a ride to the car."

You lick your lips and do as you're told, resisting the urge to recommend a better preposition. Once he's certain that you're secure, he extends both of his hands behind his back to hoist you up, and slowly stands back to his full height. He then tugs his elbows closer to his hips, so that not all your weight is on his arms, inadvertently making you rub your already sensitive folds against his back. A soft whimper escapes your lips, one that you're certain did not go unnoticed seeing as you practically moaned right into his ear.

You hear him swear in frustration and he gets a move on. Each step has you rubbing up against him, giving you some modicum of relief one second and then wrenching it away the next, but you bite your lip and you hold you tongue. You know it'll be absolutely worth it when you get to his car. You just hope to fucking god that he's parked it in a secluded spot.

Tagging: @paper-n-ashes

If anybody else wants to be tagged in future adcu stories, just let me know! :)

#Dan Jones x Reader #Dan Jones x Female Reader #mentions of sex #swearing #adcu #adcu fanfiction #the report movie #implied unsafe sex

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jamespotterthefirst · 4 years

Text

Fake Wife (Ethan x MC)

AKA: Fake Husband III

Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Lilac Allende) Word count: 2.7K Warning: Language Summary: A certain young doctor comes to his rescue when Ethan runs into an old flame. Part 3 of Fake Husband and Fake Husband, Part 2.

______________

The crowded banquet hall buzzed with laughter and conversation, the sound alone unnerving enough for Ethan. Add to that the countless doctors who vied for his attention and Ethan felt the need to escape at once.

In fact, he was desperate enough to do the unthinkable.

With the conviction of a suffocating man, he pulled out his phone and started to text.

Are you coming, Rookie?

It took him less than a second to realize the double entendre and to picture the tantalizing reply she would undoubtedly send. In a rush, he tried to send a second text to clarify. He was, of course, too late because a blip announced her reply.

I love it when you talk dirty to me, Dr. Ramsey.

She attached an emoji, as was customary, one that looked as though it was smirking in the same way she would have done if she was standing before him. Regardless, his throat went dry at the implication.

This is why I don't text, he returned, hoping to sound unaffected. He knew better than to expect her to buy that.

“Dr. Ramsey!” An older doctor approached him. “Enjoying the conference?”

“God, no,” he replied truthfully, which only prompted a belly laugh from his companion.

“Ramsey, you haven't changed a bit! Don't think I didn't notice you haven't missed one since Miami,” he pointed out with amusement. “Surely, they can't be that awful.”

Ethan took a swig of his drink, dispassionately watching their surroundings. Every year, he found himself convinced to attend, for old times sake, as Lilac liked to tell him. Despite the indifferent and irritated front he put up, Ethan enjoyed them.

He enjoyed them with her.

Inevitably, his mind traveled to that legendary Miami conference and to his favorite memory of her. The reminder of her full lips, moving against his for the first time and coaxing a yearning he hadn't felt until that point, made him restless to have her at his side. Without much pretense, he excused himself from the presence of the jolly older doctor and found a semblance of peace by the dessert table. He glanced at his phone, where her reply awaited.

Liar. I bet you're smiling right now.

A broad grin spread across his face despite his best efforts.

Are you ready to join me? I can't stand another minute being alone with these vultures.

Ethan could picture her in the hotel room upstairs, rolling her eyes upon reading his dramatic reply.

Almost ready… You can't rush art.

It was Ethan's turn to roll his eyes at that, though not without a smile. His poor, unprepared brain had only just begun to picture how tantalizing stunning she would look, when his phone pinged with an incoming photo from her.

It took everything in him not to choke on his drink. Hell, it took an insurmountable amount of sheer will power to remain where he was, instead of dashing upstairs to pin her to the wall.

Are you okay over there?, she replied.

There was no time to lie in his reply because a bout of loud laughter erupted from a group nearby. Ethan briefly glanced on instinct, ready to dismiss the interruption with a small huff and return to the tempting picture on his screen. His attention, however, snagged on the person at the center of the small crowd, the one who spoke with a lively cadence and who no doubt had been the one to make everyone laugh.

It had been over ten years since he had seen her last, and though she wore her blond hair much shorter, there was no mistaking those glacial silver eyes and the charming, effortless way she enraptured those around her. Statuesque and confident as ever, Dr. Fiona Bellington looked every bit like her former self, the girl both Ethan and Tobias had fallen desperately in love with.

His phone buzzed in his hand, bringing him back from over a decade ago in a rush. Ethan didn't read whatever it was Lilac had replied, instead, he quickly texted:

Never mind, don't bother to come down. I'm leaving.

Blood rushing loudly at his hot ears, Ethan hurried towards the door. The sight of Fiona set off a fight or flight response and Ethan gladly chose to flee, much too eager to avoid the specter of his past. He didn't make it far, however, before Fiona herself was standing right before him, impeding his path.

“Ethan?” she asked, though the recognition was evident in her heart-shaped face. “I thought that was you.”

Nothing in her perfect posture suggested she felt as uncomfortable as Ethan did. He, on the other hand, felt his face burn as he wished he could disappear into the tacky carpet of the banquet hall. Then again, that had always been their dynamic. Fiona, ever confident and graceful, and Ethan, quiet and awkward in her presence.

“Dr. Bellington,” he acknowledged at last.

Fiona laughed pleasantly at the formality of his greeting. “You know you can call me Fiona.”

Ethan didn't respond. His phone buzzed in his hand with Lilac's replies.

“How have you been?” She looked unfazed by his lack of response. Perhaps Ethan took a beat too long to reply, or Fiona was still in the habit of asking questions she did not care to hear the answer to because she added, “It's funny I ran into you. I just read your case study on Primary Hemophagocytic Lymphohistiocytosis in the NEJM.”

“Oh?”

What else could he say? In his hand, the buzzing became more frantic to match the content of Lilac's responses, no doubt.

“Very impressive, as always,” Fiona went on, undeterred.

They spent the next few minutes catching up, even if Ethan's side of the conversation was brief and detached.

“What a career you've had these past ten years.” Her silver eyes sparkled, making her look almost ten years younger. She fixed them on Ethan in a manner that was too calculated to be casual.

“All a result of hard work and dedication,” he deflected. His eyes abandoned the silvery spectacle before him—from Fiona's white blonde hair, to her eyes and dress—to instead find an escape route. Ethan had no moral qualms about being rude, but even he couldn't just leave mid-conversation. Then again, could it be called a conversation when his responses were short and noncommittal?

Fiona, seemingly oblivious about his escape plans, smirked and continued, “And an unmatched genius, Ethan. There is no need to be humble with me.”

Fiona moved closer to him, almost imperceptibly. His instinct was to step back, but the dessert table behind him prevented him from doing so.

Her sharp face lit up with determination and a hint of playfulness. “It's no surprise. You were always so…” Fiona allowed her gaze to fall to his chest, before slowly dragging it up to meet his eyes. “Driven.”

Completely unaffected, Ethan said nothing. The only source of discomfort stemmed from feeling trapped between the pastry-laden table and a woman whom he hadn't thought about in a decade. A woman who was determined to lay it on real thick with a charm that might have worked on him in another life.

Fiona, clever as ever, must have realized the lack of effect on her audience because she tried for a new approach. “I've thought a lot about you these past few years,” she confessed in a soft whisper. “I've always wondered if that mess with Tobias hadn't happened, if we could have…”

His jaw clenched reflexively.

“There's nothing more detrimental to progress than foolishly dwelling in the past,” he replied, face taught with tension, fist clasping his drink with formidable force. The words were the gentlemanly alternative to what Ethan really wanted to say, something along the lines of, “You fucked up, Fiona. And now Tobias, proving to be smarter than he looks, doesn't give you the time of day after he got bored. So now you're back, with your tail between your legs to chase after the now-famous alternative.”

As it turned out, his words were perhaps too gentle because Fiona considered them thoughtfully. Something akin to hope bloomed in her face, much to his dismay. “I absolutely agree,” she said. “Perhaps the best way forward is to break through any walls.”

At least she had the decency to look almost bashful, if a bit hopeful. Though utterly incredulous, Ethan scrutinized the woman he once fancied himself in love with. Had it really been love? It would be a disservice to his younger self to write it off as anything else. Fiona was intelligent and fiercely ambitious, not to mention charming and exceedingly beautiful. Anyone who knew her then would inevitably fall in love with her. But, as Ethan moved on and mended the fragments of a broken heart, he understood the ambition that drove her had always paired with a cruelty that tore down everyone in her path. He understood now that the love he had felt for her then was a tumultuous torrent, untamed and almost destructive but gone as quickly as it had appeared.

Misinterpreting his silence, she said, “Maybe we can get out of here and—”

Fiona did not finish that sentence because her icy grey eyes swiveled to something over Ethan's shoulder. Before Ethan could turn to look too, a pair of warm, familiar hands appeared from under his arms, sliding up his chest in a lazy line. Soon after, the lovely face of Lilac Allende appeared from over his shoulder.

The way she looked up at him was so adoring that something tugged at his chest.

“There you are, babe,” she murmured, her voice unfairly sultry, as if his heartbeat hadn't already spiked to astronomical levels at the way her hands touched him. “I've been looking all over for you.”

Ethan said nothing, unable to speak through the haze she effortlessly cast over him. How was she always so good at that? His eyes fell on the emerald green dress that hugged her pristine body. Ethan repressed a groan as he took in the revealing neckline and equally ensnaring leg slit. It was the very same dress that tormented him all the time ago through a social media post.

At the extended silence, Lilac's eyes widened slightly, prompting him to say something. In the most discreet way, she gestured toward Fiona and it hit him.

They were doing this again.

Ages after their initial fib, there they stood, about to sell the lie again, their roles reversed.

Without wasting another minute, he snared his arms around Lilac’s waist and pulled her to him, as naturally as the rhythm of the ocean. Her high heels compensated for their height difference and as Ethan leaned down, their noses were mere inches apart. “I was only gone for twenty minutes,” he informed her, swaying them slightly as he held her. “It's nice to know I am so thoroughly missed when I leave.”

Lilac raised her brow imperceptibly at him, no doubt taking his words as a challenge. The most wicked smile pulled at her lips, made more dangerous still with the way her body pressed tightly against his. She lowered her voice conspiratorially, “Speaking of thorough, you promised we could leave to our room upstairs so we could—”

Lilac made a show of noticing Fiona for the first time. “Oh, hello.”

The blonde looked at them through thinly veiled shock and disappointment. They disentangled though Lilac remained at his side, hand casually resting at his chest. The tiny gesture made it entirely too difficult to concentrate.

“Lilac, this is Dr. Fiona Bellington,” Ethan said at last. Lilac was not acting when she tore her eyes from Fiona before quickly glancing at Ethan. “Dr. Bellington, this is Dr. Lilac Allende,” he paused to kiss the top of Lilac’s forehead. “My wife.”

Uttering the word, even if it was a lie, sent his pulse into chaos.

Lilac shifted slightly to extend her hand in greeting but all pleasantries were forgotten as Fiona gaped at them.

“Wife?” Fiona said to Ethan in apparent disbelief. “I thought you didn’t—” she stopped and cleared her throat, regaining some composure. “I never took you for the marrying type, Ethan.”

“He wasn’t the conference type and look at him now,” Lilac returned cheerfully.

Fiona blinked. She seemed to remember her manners only seconds later because she plastered on a pleasant enough smile and offered her hand to Lilac.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she said as they shook hands. “Ethan and I are old friends. We were at Johns Hopkins together.”

He fought the urge to grimace. He would hardly call Fiona his friend.

“Yes, he mentioned that before,” Lilac returned just as politely.

There was a slight twitch in Fiona’s smile, sending it from passably agreeable to almost forced. “Forgive my initial shock,” she said. “I never knew Ethan to believe in marriage. What was it you said about it being a senseless institution?”

Ethan’s shoulders stiffened, entirely too annoyed by Fiona’s petty maneuvers. He opened his mouth to bluntly refute her, but Lilac laughed beside him. “The speech about there being no scientific basis for soulmates? You were already that cynical in med school, love?”

Inspired, Ethan smiled lovingly at her and pressed a kiss to the tip of her nose.

“I hadn’t met you yet.”

Lilac froze at the words and he was delighted to see a blush tinge her face. Fiona, meanwhile, struggled to conceal her crestfallen expression, her smile appearing painful now.

“We should go if we want to make dinner,” Ethan said to Lilac, deciding that any minute they spent in the company of others instead of alone was a waste of time. “Dr. Bellington,” Ethan said with a nod as mode of farewell.

“It was good to meet you,” Lilac added before Ethan whisked her away, leaving a dejected Fiona behind. They were successful in concealing their amusement until they reached a deserted hall several doors away.

Lilac's fit of laughter was contagious and he joined her without reservations.

“We should go into acting in case this medicine thing doesn't work out,” he commented.

“You make it very easy to act.”

All traces of humor were gone from her face. Unable to fight back the pull any longer, he hooked an arm around her waist and pulled her until their lips met. She responded at once, her body conforming to his as though it was designed to do so, a little moan escaping her when his tongue traced a trail along her lower lip. By the time they pulled apart, completely breathless, his tongue and lips stung pleasantly as a result of her ministrations.

“Are you okay?” she murmured, her arms still wrapped around his neck. Her fingers caressed the angles of his face and Ethan closed his eyes.

“I'm fine. How did you know I needed a save?”

“Your text,” she explained. “And the terrified look on your face when I found you talking to her.”

Ethan raised his brows to his hairline, waiting for more. Lilac rolled her eyes and relented. “And I also heard her trying to get you to leave with her.”

He chuckled. “You're cute when you're jealous.” Lilac opened her mouth, cheeks ablaze. “You've nothing to worry about, Rookie. I'm interested in one person and one person only.”

“Who? Your wife?”

“She's not my wife yet,” he replied with a grin, aware it probably made him look sheepish. He didn't care. “But I do like the sound of the word.”

“Good. Get used to it because it will be true in a few weeks.”

The thought alone exhilarated him. Very gently, he took her hand in his, bringing his lips to the engagement ring he had placed there a few weeks prior.

“I'm counting down the days.”

Their lips met again in another passionate kiss. Ethan's hands fell to the swell of her hips, his fingers quickly descending to the slit along her thigh.

“This dress,” he breathed when they pulled apart. His eyes took her in shamelessly, marveling at how a mere piece of fabric made her look entirely like a goddess. “Did you wear it for me?”

“Yes,” Lilac allowed with a wistful sigh. “I was hoping to finally get some use out of it.”

Ethan flashed his fiancée a devilish lopsided smile. “Night's not over yet,” he whispered, pressing a hot lip against her neck. “And besides, I think its true purpose is to be a heap in our bedroom floor.”

____________

Prompt: Thank you anon!

Also, thank you to the anon who wanted Jealous!MC (kinda)

____________

Author’s Note: Oh how the turn tables...

THANK YOU SO MUCH for reading this series. Let me say this is not the last time I will use the fake dating trope because I love it so much.

Apologies for that god awful summary!

Finally, I hope you don’t mind me adding extra scenes for the Miami kiss rewrite. May the writing gods be with me because I am so excited!

- Bree

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@dulceghernandez | @lion-ess24 | @emotionalswift2 | @the-soot-sprite |

#open heart #ethan x mc #ethan ramsey #my writing #Playchoices

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mightbewriting · 3 years

Note

So I came to W&H and B&E in an odd way. I'm a long time Dramione fic reader who like many of us doubled down on in 2020 to find comfort in a bananas year. I kept seeing W&H on everyone's rec list, but for whatever reason kept putting it off. Then I heard about the prequel and decided to wait for that to be finished, read it, then do W&H. But once it was finished, I saw you recommended W&H first so I was like okay I'll do that. I struggle with impulse control but am trying to do better so when I saw the audiobook for W&H I was like perfect, I'll listen rather than read that way I won't gobble it up in a day. Ha well that did not work, I listened to the first 3 chapters (at that time those were the only chapters they had recorded) then instantly ran not walked to A03, reread said chapters, then continued on. At Chapter 4 of W&H, I thought hmm maybe I'll read them simultaneously. I continued that way maybe through Chapter 13 of B&E and Chapter 7ish then fully committed to W&H first. I cannot imagine reading these fics in real time because reading them in full, back to back was the most intense glutenous binge and it's taken over my life in the best way. I have been living in your fictional universe for the past two weeks. I started a list of all the parallels and callbacks and eventually had to call it because they are innumerable. I'm awed. In literal awe. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Your writing - the individual words of your vast vocabulary, the way you string said words together into hilarious, heart breaking, heart stopping, beautiful, and visceral feelings is astounding. It's hard to explain but even good writers (and/or an intriguing plot) sometimes do not create an overall immersive feeling. But the feelings your words evoke are all encompassing and truly universe building. Like it's not just the wording or the plot or the charters but all of it together come to make something even greater than the sum of their parts. Your writing, your universe of W&H, S&S, and B&E live in my mind and heart and in an embarrassing amount of screenshots of passages on my phone and in voice memos to myself as I don't have anyone irl to fan girl with. When I think of your words and the world you built, I'm reminded of a Taylor Swift lyric: "it cut deep to know you, right to the bone". That is how I'd describe your writing's effect on me, but in the best way.

Your brain's capacity to plot, plan, and flawlessly deliver W&H THEN B&E? Idk how you kept all the threads and plot points and moments and timelines in check. My head aches just thinking about how you wrote these stand-alone but also inextricable works of art. Like how does one's brain function in such a level? And it's especially telling in B&E because we knew where we were going but I still gasped, screamed, squealed, giggled, had to put my phone down, clutched it to my heart, fist pumped, stopped half way through just for a minute to breath and take it all in, and overall looked and acted as an utter idiot during each and every chapter because while I knew where we were going I also had no idea! I'm just floored you managed to keep us at the edge of our seats with a prequel? Who does that? You do!

The texts in the final chapter of W&H devastated me, literal chills. I think about that daily. It's exactly what H and we needed. Just like a reminder of what they went through. It reminded me of Chapter 41 of B&E. Like a summary of where they had been and where they are now.

The other thing that rattled in my brain is the motifs of choice and time, life kind of boils down to those two things huh? But choice especially. It's funny because choice is so prominent but at the same time how W&H and B&E give off soulmate vibes even though this is not a soulmate fic (also are the rumors true...?!) because despite time turners, breakups, and lost memories, they always come back together. But more on choice: it's just as Draco says - in a million scenarios he'll always choose her and he feels lucky she chose him just once. But of course with W&H, she does it twice. And she does it in both timelines of B&E, and of course that's the problem when Draco realizes he has not done the same hence heartbreak 1.0. And just god - he wants her to have a choice with the potion, a choice with her memories, and stops the timey wimey madness by realizing he's taking her choice (and in a way H started it by taking away his choice and leaving the first time). And then those parts about how he chose her, she chose him, but they could not chose each other. This motif, these callbacks. I'm flabbergasted. It's just hitting me now that you extend the choice to us as readers - we get to choose whether H get her memories back or not.

Theo in all your Wait and Hope universe, but especially S&S broke me. Blaise asking who is taking care of Theo when he's taking care of everyone else? Theo's literal and figurative demons? Yikes. Those were unpleasant looks in the mirror for me. I'm glad Theo has his Blaise. Where's mine haha? Also just shout to your underrated Blaise. The fact that he might be my favorite of the Slytherians in your stories says a lot since he doesn't say a lot haha. But he packs such a punch in all your works.

Okay, after singing your well deserved praises and fan girling and marveling at your works (god this is so long, I'm so sorry!), at long last my ask. I still cannot get this out of my head: what did Theo mean in Chapter 1 of B&E when he suggests to Draco “I know that. Maybe you could—tell her some of—” some of what? I zeroed in on this as soon as I read it and it's been rattling in my brain ever since.

um. hi? holy shit. i dont know how to process this. i am resisting the impulse to cringe away from the level of praise happening here because i really need to learn how to take a compliment but oh my god? i am not...this is just...wowzers. you are very literally too kind to me. i have melted into a puddle of feelings in my reading chair here.

so, first things first: thank you. these are some of the nicest things i’ve ever heard about my writing and i can guarantee i will come back to this ask when I'm feeling like i suck and need a motivation boost. i can’t deny...it feels really nice to know that at least one person out there caught and appreciated some of the insane attention to detail i forced upon myself lol. so thank you. truly, thank you so much for saying such amazingly kind things that have short circuited my brain!

and im sure my friends at @etl-echo-audiobooks will be over the moon to know that their recording work was such a hit! your trajectory reading these stories is so fun and hilarious and probably the most unique reading experience i’ve heard so far xD

also, please be advised that your analysis on choice in these stories is probably going to live in my head rent free for the rest of my life. i feel seen, you know? you just...picked up what i was putting down and it feels really nice to know that it worked for you!

and ok. your question. that little dash of ambiguity i was planning on leaving open ended. but let it be known i can be plied with compliments. i can’t just *not* give you something in return for such a lovely and kind and thoughtful dose of joy you had absolutely no obligation to give me today.

so, in my mind, after draco’s house arrest ended and before he went abroad for his mastery, he and theo had an extensive (most likely drunken. also blaise was probably there too) night of reflection where they kind of just looked back at their childhoods and the war and the history of blood purity and just sort of went: “what the fuck?” i imagine draco probably confided in theo that when he went abroad, he planned to just try and pretend like none of it mattered, to see if that was really true. and draco probably kept him updated via owl (even though draco did not write enough and theo had feelings about that) so that by the time draco returned and we have theo asking that sort of trailing question, the implication at the end is “what if you told granger some of your realizations about it all?” so...not all that exciting? but there you have it!

in conclusion: thank you! you are too kind! i appreciate your thoughtful commentary SO much! i’m so happy you enjoyed these stories. and i hope the explanation of what theo was going to say wasn’t too underwhelming.

#thegirlwhowatchedeverything #asks #death by kindness #my death #i am dead #oh also yes #they rumors are true #im writing a soulmate story next #i intend to hurt you #you being ALL of you #*evil laughter*

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snarktheater · 3 years

Text

Ready Player Two — Opening Cutscene & Chapter 0

Hello again.

It’s been a while. I haven’t been active on this blog since, fittingly enough, Ready Player One. I was going to do this sooner—even had an alarm set up and everything—but then, it turns out, I’m feeling so much negativity about the world in general that a book just pales in comparison.

Seriously, I had to scrap this post’s entire intro because it’s not even 2020 anymore as I write this. And you know, maybe that’s for the best. I’m not really in the mood for doom and gloom and bitching anymore. I uninstalled Twitter from my phone a while back, I’ve been doing good at my daily writing sprints, my biggest fanfic project concluded on a positive note from people I didn’t even realize had been following it for years.

So I don’t know what this is going to be like. My commentary, I mean; I’ve heard echoes of what the book is like, so I’m not expecting a surprise there.

The book opens right after the end of Ready Player One, in a “Cutscene” where Wade recounts to us what happened after he won Halliday’s contest. It also assumes you remember exactly who the main characters of the book are, which is a bold move for a sequel that came out almost a decade after the original.

Technically, I could just look up the details I’m fuzzy about. But also, I think it’s more authentic if I don’t. I trust my memory enough that if I’m wrong, it’ll be in subtle enough ways that it’ll almost be a private jokes between all of us. An “if you know, you know” sort of error system. And I don’t think there’s anything more true to the spirit of this book than that.

Shoto had flown back home to Japan to take over operations at GSS’s Hokkaido division.

So Wade starts his tenure with nepotism. Wasn’t Shoto really young? Why is he qualified to run anything?

Aech was enjoying an extended vacation in Senegal, a country she’d dreamed of visiting her whole life, because her ancestors had come from there.

You know what, I’m not touching “send the token black character back to Africa.” This isn’t my lane.

And Samantha had flown back to Vancouver to pack up her belongings and say goodbye to her grandmother, Evelyn.

Why is she saying goodbye? Why, she’s moving to Columbus to be with Wade, of course! It’s not like there was anything else in her life. Was there? And why isn’t she referred to as Art3mis? I’m pretty sure Wade found out all of their offline names in the last book, and the inconsistency mildly bothers me.

These three sentences are back to back, by the way. Someone—I forget who—once described Ready Player One as a book that’s fun to write a wiki about, because it’s got fun concepts to summarize about until you realize that all the emotional connective tissue you need to turn a list of things into a story is missing, and that’s roughly how this first page feels.

Hell, the first line of the book is Wade telling us he remained offline for nine whole days after winning the contest, but by the end of the second paragraph we’re already to him logging back into the OASIS to "distract himself from [his and Samantha’s] reunion.

I’ll give Ernest Cline one thing: it feels like he wrote this opening nine days after the first book and did about as much maturing as a teenage boy would do between the two books.

Way more time is spent describing Wade’s OASIS rig, or the in-game planet where the climax of the last book happened, than anything else in this introduction. He is immediately greeted by a crowd of adoring fans who have been waiting over a week for him to come back in the game, because they’re all grateful that our protagonist and his friends restored their avatars after they were annihilated by the Sixers.

You’d think the adoring fans would serve some kind of purpose, or that something would happen, but no. Wade immediately goes “ew, people” and teleports away, since he essentially has ultimate powers within the game. With a caveat: the powers are actually coming from the Robes of Anorak he’s wearing, and I’m mentioning that in the hopes that it will pay off sometime in the book’s future, assuming Cline at least learned to do that. But still, let’s not skip too fast the fact that we introduced that crowd of adoring fans for no other purpose than to tell us they’re out there, because it fits right in with the last book’s attempts at saying as little as humanly possible in as many words as possible.

Anyway, Wade went back into Anorak’s study, where he arbitrarily checks out the Easter Egg he got at the end of the last book, and finds an inscription on it. I was dreading another riddle, but no, it’s just straight-up instructions to a vault in the GSS archives, so Wade logs off and goes to check it out.

Of course Halliday had put [the archives] [on the 13th floor]. In one of his favorite TV shows, Max Headroom, Network 23’s hidden research-and-development lab was located on the thirteenth floor. And The Thirteenth Floor was also the title of an old sci-fi film about virtual reality, released in 1999, right on the heels of both The Matrix and eXistenZ.

I’m equally shocked that it took two whole pages (on my ereader) to get to the first slew of references, and that one of these references is from 1999. I didn’t know we were allowed to think of anything that isn’t the 80s. Speaking of which, I’ll spare you the whole paragraph, but the book does feel the need to explain why it’s vault 42.

Inside the vault, there’s another egg containing a super-fancy and advanced OASIS headset. The egg also has a video monitor that plays a video message from James Halliday shortly before his death.

But despite his condition, he hadn’t used his OASIS avatar to record this message like he had with Anorak’s Invitation. For some reason, he’d chosen to appear in the flesh this time, under the brutal, unforgiving light of reality.

That oh-so-important message? An infodump about the headset’s working. He called it an OASIS Neural Interface, ONI for short. It basically lets you experience the OASIS through all your senses with sensory input just like the real thing, you know, that thing Wade had to get a fancy suit and massive rig to do in the first book. And yes, Wade does spend a paragraph or two comparing it to other works of science fiction. Of course he does.

More importantly, it also records all the sensory input into a separate file, which can then be replayed over to re-experience said sensations, or live someone else’s experiences. Halliday tries to frame it as a tool to generate communication and empathy, seemingly all without acknowledging the potential creepiness of that. But hey. Who knows. Maybe that’s because this is the setup stage, and it’ll pay off eventually.

I also wondered about the name Halliday had chosen for his invention. I’d seen enough anime to know that oni was also a Japanese word for a giant horned demon from the pits of hell.

Add “reducing Japan to anime” to the list of things the book has failed to improve upon. By the way, the narration insisted on spelling out ONI letter by letter earlier, so it’s weird to make that link now. It’s also just kind of inelegant to just tell us “this is the symbolism behind the name”, but that’s just the sort of thing I’ve come to expect from this book.

Anyway, the reason Halliday kept this for his successor to find is he wants Wade to test out the technology and decide if humanity is ready for it. Why Halliday thinks the most glorified pop culture trivia / video game competition qualifies you for such a decision should be a problem, but sadly, a lot of billionaires have said and done a lot of dumb and eerily similar things in the past few years since I read Ready Player One, so actually, I can’t fault the book for that one. Tragically, our fates really are in the hands of people who should rightfully be cartoon villains.

To his credit, Wade does question Halliday’s motives in keeping this under wraps at all rather than releasing it himself. So hey, maybe it really is setting something up.

Wade goes back to his office with the ONI, and we’re treated with this lovely piece of narration:

I was grateful that Samantha wasn’t there. I didn’t want to give her the opportunity to talk me out of testing the ONI. Because I was worried she might try to, and if she did, she would’ve succeeded. (I’d recently discovered that when you’re madly in love with someone they can persuade you to do pretty much anything.)

There’s a lot to unpack about the implications this has for their relationship, but it’s way too early in the book for me to editorialize when one character hasn’t even been on the page yet. So I’ll just leave it here for the record. Hopefully you see the problem without me needing to point it out anyway. If not, feel free to hit my inbox.

So Wade, confident in the fact that Halliday would have warned him if there were any risks to using the ONI, decides to try it out. Even though he immediately follows up that statement with this:

According to the ONI documentation, forcibly removing the headset while it was in operation could severely damage the wearer’s brain and/or leave them in a permanent coma. So the titanium-reinforced safety bands made certain this couldn’t happen. I found this little detail comforting instead of unsettling. Riding in an automobile was risky, too, if you didn’t wear your seatbelt…

Wade. My dude. What the fuck is this simile. And why don’t you see that maybe a machine where you’re forcibly trapping yourself inside a virtual reality might be dangerous? Hell, when I said this was setting something up, I was expecting something vaguely interesting about the potential breach of privacy, or how you don’t need to literally walk in someone’s shoes to feel empathy for them, or anything substantial, but now I’m worried it’ll just end up as “man, sometimes science fiction machines will scramble your brain, isn’t that weird”?

Like, I don’t know, to me “it will put you in a coma” sounds like a good reason for Halliday not to release the ONI. Maybe we can still make it into a commentary on how corporations will sell stuff they know is directly harmful if it can make them a profit. Who knows.

The book waffles on about more risks, and the mechanics of how the ONI activates, and the warning disclaimer when it does turn on. Specifically, there’s a time limit of twelve consecutive hours, after which you’ll be automatically logged out, because yes, using the thing for too long can also cause brain damage.

Gregarious Simulation Systems will not be held responsible for any injuries caused by improper use of the OASIS Neural Interface.

See, now there’s the sort of thing that could be a source for commentary, but no, instead it’s thrown in there like it’s nothing and Wade glosses over the entire warning, and instead keep wondering why Halliday didn’t just release the ONI if even the safety disclaimers were in place.

By the way: this whole system has apparently gone through several independent human trials already, so I’m finding it hard to imagine that it’s actually a secret Halliday took to the grave as Wade says. Unless he also had everyone involved in those trials killed afterwards. Or maybe they all ended up with brain damage which rendered them incapable of talking about it.

And before you think I’m being unfair and maybe we’re supposed to understand that ourselves even if the protagonist doesn’t, I’ll remind you that the book didn’t trust its reader to know what the number 42 is a reference to, or what an oni is, even though I don’t think anyone in the target audience wouldn’t know about these two things.

There’s also the fact that, since this book came out, a video game did release with a scene intentionally designed to cause seizures, and it had countless fans flocking to defend it over that fact. So you’ll have to excuse me if I’m not assuming this book’s stance on whether your video game console causes brain damage and possibly coma is actually a bad thing, or just an acceptable risk.

Wade certainly seems to think so, since he agrees to the terms of service.

As the timestamp faded away, it was replaced by a short message, just three words long—the last thing I would see before I left the real world and entered the virtual one. But they weren’t the three words I was used to seeing. I—like every other ONI user to come—was greeted by a new message Halliday had created, to welcome those visitors who had adopted his new technology: READY PLAYER TWO

Well now that’s just silly.

And that’s our opening cutscene. And while this post is already long enough, I feel like I have to go on to chapter 0, because it feels like barely anything has happened so far. We didn’t even introduce any new character motivation or conflict, or a mystery to set the plot into motion, unless I’m supposed to think “why didn’t Halliday release this?” counts.

So Wade is back into the OASIS, and tells us about how much more real it all feels thanks to the ONI. I especially have to question how he can smell or taste anything—both of which he tells us he can. Like, who coded that? Did Halliday implement every single smell and taste himself, without anyone noticing? I hope you don’t need me to tell you that’s not typically how features are added to a large-scale video game.

If it feels like I’m nitpicking at the logic of the book, even though I always say I’m not very interested in that and would rather talk themes, it’s because I am, because there isn’t much else to discuss so far. Wade is happy about tasting virtual fruit. That’s the scene.

He tests out if he can feel pain, but no, the ONI reduces pain (a gunshot is translated as “a hard pinch”). On one hand, good, it would be a nightmare otherwise. On the other hand, I sort of hope there’s a setting for that in there, because otherwise, you just lost an entire clientele of kinksters.

This was it—the final, inevitable step in the evolution of videogames and virtual reality. The simulation had now become indistinguishable from real life.

Ah, now we have some juicy themes. Because if you think this is the inevitable final step in the evolution of video games, I invite you to look at literally any other art form, and what happened to them once hyperrealism became easy. Hint: they didn’t stop evolving, because it turns out realism isn’t the only goal one can achieve with art.

The realism discussion is not a new one in video games, mind you. In case you’re out of the loop: most of the big-budget blockbuster games (“AAA” as they’re known) are aiming for hyperrealism nowadays, and it results in development teams being forced to work in horrible conditions (known with the equally horrible euphemism of “crunch”). And, because it turns out that 1) humans working themselves to the bones isn’t healthy and 2) racing for realism with little to no vision besides it makes for poor creativity, a lot of these games come out as disappointments. Oh, there are hordes of Gamers™ who will defend them to the bitter end, but inevitably, in the months following release, the defense cools off while the criticism keeps on going, because the defense was a knee-jerk reaction born of a mix of people hyping themselves up for a game they hadn’t seen that much of yet, then attaching a part of their identity to liking that thing.

Anyway, what I’m trying to say is that this throwaway line feels like it comes from someone who is so out of touch as to accidentally support a world view that has in fact resulted in the biggest part of the industry stagnating artistically while growing more toxic for the people working in it. All the while, more and more independent games come out every year, proving that that realism is nowhere near the most important thing to making a game good, and that you can achieve much better results with a small team.

What I’m trying to say is: watch Jim Sterling’s channel, they’ve been bleeding out subscribers since they came out as nonbinary and make much better commentary on this topic than I could, and play Hades.

Back to the book, which sadly hasn’t become any more interesting since I decided to go on a tangent. Wade tests the ONI functions some more, all the while musing on how he knows Samantha would disapprove but that he doesn’t care, because what loving relationship doesn’t consist of that?

Among the functions, he tries the ONI files, the aforementioned recordings of someone else’s experiences. Specifically, a woman, which Wade tells us by telling us he suddenly has breasts, I suppose because Ernest Cline saw that subreddit about men writing women and went “I want a piece of that”. Oh, and also, those sample files were recorded from real people, in the real world. And yes, this goes exactly where you think it does.

SEX-M-F.oni, SEX-F-F.oni, and SEX-Nonbinary.oni

Look, I actually started writing a complaint about the boobs thing, and I deleted it, but now Cline is doing it on purpose. So, here goes: I saw a quote from this book on Twitter that looked like Cline attempting to make up for Wade’s casual transphobia in the first book. It wasn’t good, but it at least sounded like he was trying. So to immediately get this is…a lot? Let’s go for a lot.

I can almost excuse the use of “M” and “F”. You gotta name your files and you could excuse a non-exhaustive list. But…nonbinary? On one hand, I want to know what Cline means. On the other hand, I don’t think he can come up with an answer I’ll find satisfactory.

We are thankfully spared from finding out because Wade has just lost his virginity to Samantha a few days ago and he’s 1) not ready for this and 2) pretty sure this counts as cheating. You could make a case that this is more like porn, but I can see that this is more of a personal distinction anyway, and I can respect that one. Plus, you know. I don’t want to find out.

Wade logs off, and he can’t tell the difference between the OASIS with the ONI, and decides this will change the world. And then it’s back to the “how did he do it and keep it a secret”, even though Wade now finds out in the documentation that this had been in development for twenty-five years, basically since the OASIS launched. So it’s not really that it’s a secret, so much as there are a lot of people under very strict NDAs out there. Or, again, they’re all dead and/or otherwise incapacitated.

The ONI is the product of the Accessibility Research Lab, and Wade tells us about other stuff that the lab has produced using similar technology, mostly for medical purposes.

GSS patented each of the Accessibility Research Lab’s inventions, but Halliday never made any effort to profit from them. Instead, he set up a program to give these neuroprosthetic implants away, to any OASIS users who could benefit from them. GSS even subsidized the cost of their implant surgery.

Look, it’s nice that you want Halliday to be the good guy through and through, but it’s kind of hard to take any social commentary seriously when you think this is how a billionaire is made. Hell, even when he shut down the lab and fired its entire staff, he gave them a big enough severance package to set them for life. You know. Capitalism!

Hey, remember when Samantha said she was going to end world hunger if she won the contest, a thing billionaires right now could be doing, but aren’t, and she is now the co-owner of GSS? Yeah, I kind of hope the book remembers that too.

Speaking of the co-owners, the book just completely skips over the debate that our four main characters have over whether or not to release the ONI to the world. All we know is that they voted, and the vote goes in favor of releasing it. I mean, why have characters who could have opinions and feelings that could create a discussion? That might make us care about them! And who wants to care about characters in a story?

We put them on sale at the lowest possible price, to make sure as many people as possible could experience the OASIS Neural Interface for themselves.

What exactly is “the lowest possible price” here? Your company literally owns money. Like, OASIS money is real money. There is literally nothing stopping you from giving them away, especially because what you’re giving away is access to the platform you’re already running for a profit.

It’s almost like, even trying to make “good billionaires” out of its protagonists, the book can’t stop and actually make them significantly good.

Oh, I should mention. If you thought my Ready Player One review was angry at capitalism, wait until you see what the past couple years have done to me.

Anyway, once they his 7,777,777 simultaneous ONI users, a new riddle shows up on Halliday’s website. Because yep: our plot is apparently not about the implications of releasing the ONI, or any of the potential ideological discussions associated with that, it’s another riddle. Oh boy, do I wish I’d known that.

Seek the Seven Shards of the Siren’s Soul On the seven worlds where the Siren once played a role For each fragment my heir must pay a toll To once again make the Siren whole

I cannot wait to have the book give me just not enough information to solve the riddle until it’s solved by the book itself. That was so much fun the other…what was it, five times? Six times? Something like that. Wade already tells us the Siren might be Kira Morrow, because her alias was named after one of the sirens of Greek myth, so I can’t wait for that plot point to stick around. It was so fun to hear all about this man pining for another man’s wife the first time!

So this is the “Shard Riddle”. People are apparently convinced it was made by Wade and his crew as a publicity stunt, but of course, they know that that isn’t the case, and they also don’t know what that riddle is supposed to lead to. So, that’s great. We have a puzzle, and we also don’t know what the stakes are. All we know is that Wade wants to solve the puzzle essentially because it’s a challenge.

We skip over a year, and Wade tells us about how IOI collapses and gets absorbed by GSS because of the ONI’s launch. Remember IOI? They were the bad guys, so I guess we have to cheer?

GSS absorbed IOI and all of its assets, transforming us into an unstoppable megacorporation with a global monopoly on the world’s most popular entertainment, education, and communications platform.To celebrate, we released all of IOI’s indentured servants and forgave their outstanding debts.

On one hand: good for the slave. On the other hand: not gonna cheer for a monopoly, you guys.

Another year’s skip, and now 99% of the OASIS users are using the ONI, and yes, that includes trading their experiences with one another too. And I guess we’re still hand-waving any possible problems associated with that technology, because the technology is made so that all recordings must be shared and played through the OASIS.

This allowed us to weed out unsavory or illegal recordings before they could be shared with other users.

How? Do you know any of the problems associated with content moderations on the current platforms? I don’t know if I want to point to Youtube’s extremely faulty algorithm, Twitter’s complete apathy towards its Nazis, or Facebook doing moderation by making underpaid staff watch all potentially problematic content, which resulted in serious psychological damage to said staff.

You can’t just say that as if it solved everything. The chapter later says this is handled by an AI called “CenSoft”, and as an AI engineer myself, let me tell you: this is not going to work. Again: Youtube is the way it is for a reason.

It also let us maintain our monopoly on what was rapidly becoming the most popular form of entertainment in the history of the world.

And again, monopolies are totally a good thing as long as it’s in the right hands!

When I’m implying that the book does not care for any of these potential problems, I mean it. These enormous ethical issues are sidestepped in cold narratin, and we just keep going on introducing new slang that I hate, but have to quote so help you keep up.

“Sims” were recordings made inside the OASIS, and “Recs” were ONI recordings made in reality. Except that most kids no longer referred to it as “reality.” They called it “the Earl.” (A term derived from the initialism IRL.) And “Ito” was slang for “in the OASIS.” So Recs were recorded in the Earl, and Sims were created Ito.

There. You have been infodumped.

In the midst of all this (still extremely dry) exposition about how this changed media, we also get this tidbit:

You could take any drug, eat any kind of food, and have any kind of sex, without worrying about addiction, calories, or consequences.

Now, I was going to rant about this, but then, a page later, this happens and spares me the trouble:

I’d struggled with OASIS addiction before the ONI was released. Now logging on to the simulation was like mainlining some sort of chemically engineered superheroin.

So, you are aware that addiction isn’t just possible, but extremely facilitated by this. But sure, no worries! It’s perfectly safe! Because our protagonists are good.

Also, remember how the last book ended on a weak attempt at having a moral that maybe the real world is good, actually? Yeah, Wade tells us the ONI helps poor people live enjoyable lives in the OASIS. So. Fuck that message, I guess. It only applies if you’re the literal wealthiest man on Earth.

And me? All my dreams had come true. I’d gotten stupidly rich and absurdly famous. I’d fallen in love with my dream girl and she had fallen in love with me. Surely I was happy, right? Not so much, as this account will show.

Aside from the aforementioned returning OASIS affiction, there’s the Shard riddle that Wade is now obsessed with, to the point of offering a billion-dollar reward to anyone with information about the riddle’s answer.

I announced this reward with a stylized short film that I modeled after Anorak’s Invitation. I hoped it would seem like a lighthearted play on Halliday’s contest instead of a desperate cry for help. It seemed to work.

On one hand: good, Wade finally has a character flaw that the book actually acknowledges as a character flaw. I can work with that. On the other hand: this is all told to me in such a dispassionate that I am dreading how the book will handle this character flaw. Which is to say, I’m not expecting it to be very good.

(For a brief time, some of the younger, more idealistic shard hunters referred to themselves as “shunters” to differentiate themselves from their elder counterparts. But when everyone began to call them “sharters” instead, they changed their minds and started to call themselves gunters too. The moniker still fit. The Seven Shards were Easter eggs hidden by Halliday, and we were all hunting for them.)

Especially when this is something the narration feels is more important to tell me about.

Anyway, skip another year, and a gunter finally leads Wade to the First Shard. Solved that riddle, I guess. And wait, wasn’t part of why IOI was ~evil~ in the first book that they were paying people to find the Easter Egg for them? How is this any different, Wade?

And when I picked it up, I set in motion a series of events that would drastically alter the fate of the human race. As one of the only eyewitnesses to these historic events, I feel obligated to give my own written account of what occurred. So that future generations—if there are any—will have all the facts at their disposal when they decide how to judge my actions.

And that is the end of our chapter 0. And can I just say: what a mess already. I don’t think my snark can properly convey how utterly devoid of emotion this book’s writing is, and that alone is honestly more of a turn-off than anything else in the book so far. Even, knowing that I railed about it in the first book, I still feel newly unprepared for it. And it’s not like this double-prologue is making me hopeful that the book will show an ounce more critical thinking—or decent fucking humanity towards marginalized groups—as its predecessor.

So, that’s a lot to look forward to! For the sake of my sanity and schedule, don’t expect me to do such big posts every time. I’ll probably do one chapter a week from now on, if that. We’re in for a long ride, but I hope it’s worth it, at least.

#ready player two #ernest cline #st: ready player two #book reviews

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bangstanfics · 4 years

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Ode to Safe Travels || JJK

☆ Pairing: Knight!Jungkook x Princess!Reader

☆ Word Count: 4.8k

☆ Rating: 17+

☆ Genre: Medieval au, royalty au, star crossed lovers, romance, angst, and more angst

☆ Warnings: Major character death, implications of smut

☆ Summary: It was a forbidden romance that was bound to end up in tragedy. You both knew that, and yet that didn’t stop you from falling hopelessly in love with your metaphorical and literal knight in shining armor, Jeon Jungkook.

☆ A/N: My first ever fic, oh gawd I wasn’t sure when (or if) I was going to post this, but Valentines Day seemed like a good day. This short story is part of my “A Second Chance at Love” series (a series about lovers whose circumstances caused them to not end up together during their first life, but are given a second chance when they are reincarnated) and is the prequel to my main story “Chasing Stars.” Also, all the italicized writing is the present, and the regular text are flashbacks of the past. Yes! That was done with a purpose and no I won't directly say why (unless you figure it out owo). Enough of my blabbing, I hope you all enjoy!! :)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

I’ll be with you, forever.

It was his promise to you as he sat in his barren cell, deprived of the basic necessities of life - food, water, human contact. The shackles around his arms denying him access to one last touch of your skin, to caress your cheek and brush away the tears that you couldn’t stop from falling. His big doe eyes that reflected stars now reflected your contorted expression, overtaken with grief. Despite his circumstances, he managed to smile and attempted to ease your fears with his words.

God, how you hated yourself in that moment. There he was, waiting for his moment to come on death’s vendetta, yet he was comforting you. You, the princess who spent her sheltered life behind the castle walls, ignorant to famen, war, and poverty. You, the princess who was always draped in the finest silks and gold and carried herself with too much pride. You, the princess who was always pampered by servants and knights alike, adored by the entire kingdom.

Finding solace in his words was a privilege you would not allow yourself to have in that moment.

“Would you like to have a different meal prepared, your Highness?” the voice of the servant cut through your heavy thoughts, pulling you back to the present. You glanced down at your untouched food before turning your attention back to the girl. She was new, you noted, and unaware of the fact that your lack of appetite had nothing to do with the food, and everything to do with the memories of him that constantly flooded your mind.

“No,” you answered after a moment of silence, “This will suffice.”

She waited, as if expecting more, but when you offered nothing of the sort she bowed her head respectfully and left the dining hall, leaving you alone to replay that fateful day over and over again.

He was right, though. Even after his passing, you saw and heard him everywhere you went. His hushed voice in the wind, calling your name. His shadow trailing your footsteps of abandoned corridors. His lingering scent in the sheets of your chambers. Even now, in this massive hall with the long table stretched out before you, you could feel the weight of his presence sitting in the empty chair across from you. The ghost of his smile barely visible to your eye and yet you can remember it so distinctly. However, rather than comfort, it only served as a bitter reminder of the future that was abruptly taken away from you.

You closed your eyes once again and allowed your consciousness to drift back to that day, resuming from the point where you hopelessly reached your hand through the bars in an attempt to seek refuge in the warmth of his arms. He did the same, extended his hand out towards you, but the chains that restrained him to the wall only allowed him to move a few feet. Your desperate attempts to reach each other proving futile against the cell bars.

“Please don’t leave me,” you pleaded through your sobs, “Please don’t leave me all alone. I can’t do this without you.”

His smile was weak, but reassuring, “My love,” his voice barely above a whisper, all the might and confidence you were so accustomed to hearing had disappeared, “Don’t say that. You are the strongest person I know. Hell, the strongest person in this nation. Do what you always do when you fall, jump back up and keep moving forward.” You shake your head, unable to speak through your broken sobs. You wanted to tell him he was wrong. The truth behind your unwavering nature was not an iron will, but the knowledge that if you fell, Jungkook would be right there to catch you and help you back up.

“Jungkook please,” you tried again, “Let me fix this.”

“But there is nothing to fix,” he tried to reason, “Our destiny had already been mapped out in the stars long ago. I know you do not believe in these myths and folklore, but sometimes there are moments in this lifetime that are meant to happen to allow others destinies to fully take course.”

This destiny he was so fixated on, meant nothing to you if he wasn’t there to take part in the journey with you. You wanted to tell him that, but the words stayed as a lump in your throat as you stared into his brown orbs. The unwavering determination was set ablaze in his eyes, as he sent you a silent message - he was doing this for you. In that moment, you were faced with a burden so great that the mere thought of it left the impression of the universe’s vast loneliness coursing through you.

You had to leave him.

Turn around and allow him to take part in fate’s cruel plans.

“I love you,” were the final words you had to offer, “I love you so damn much,” your cries growing louder with each passing declaration, knowing it will be your last.

“And I love you,” he projected what little strength he had into this confession, so they would never leave you, “Even after my time in this world has come to an end, my love for you will not end with it.”

You felt your hands tremble at your sides as the desire to embrace him one last time overwhelmed you. To brush your lips over his and murmur sweet nothings into his ears to reassure him that your heart was forever his and nothing, not even death, could break that bond. Your lover, your best friend, your world. He was it all and so much more.

With a heavy heart, you rose from your spot on the ground and left without a second glance. Too afraid that if you did, your resolution would break and you would run back to Jungkook’s cell. Instead, as you traveled down the dimly lit hall, you broke into uncontrollable sobs. The force of your whimpers reverberating through your chest, causing the halls to echo back your sorrows. Your hands found their way to your hair as you began rummaging through your locks, searching your head for an answer. A swarm of profanities whirled your mind as they attempted to escape through your mouth. You physically had to bite your tongue to prevent yourself from revealing your location to the castle guards. But the insanity of the situation was getting too much and with each passing second your hope continued to dwindle close to nothing. You frantically shook your head, forcing the negative thoughts away. Jungkook already had given up, so you knew you couldn’t do the same.

You were at a loss for breathe as you found yourself hyperventilating, knees succumbing to the reality of the situation. Was there really nothing you could do to save him? You clawed at your chest, desperate for air as your head sunk lower and lower, eyes meeting the concrete floors. Your vision was filled with nothing but the gray cracks and crevices, hoping to find a silver lining in any one of its imperfections. But there was nothing and when you realized this, you screamed. An ear curdling scream meant for the heavens, hoping they would hear your plea and allow Jungkook to live.

“Your Highness, are you alright?” a heavy breathe brought you down from the memory you were reliving and you realized you were no longer seated at the dining table. To your side, the familiar face of the Head maid with a look of concern etched onto her features. Of all people you had to encounter, you just had to encounter her - Mrs. Kim. The same woman who helped raise you and feed you when your parents were busy managing their kingdom. The same woman who kissed your wounds and was your shoulder to cry on. The same woman who gave birth to one of your closest friends, Kim Namjoon. The same woman who betrayed you.

“Don’t touch me!” you immediately recoiled from her touch, the momentum of your movements, bringing you down to the floor as a result.

“But Your Highness--” Mrs. Kim reached out to help you up, but you responded by scurrying further back, until your back hit the end of a wall.

“Don’t touch me! Don’t look at me! Don’t help me! Just get away!”

Mrs. Kim was visibly hurt by your words, you could tell by the way her eyes clouded with tears, but you couldn’t stop the words from spilling from your mouth. Afterall, she was the one who revealed your relationship with Jungkook to your parents.

“What if… we ran away together?” you whispered to Jungkook one night after love making. Your naked bodies intertwined between the silk sheets of your bed, as the soft rays of the moonlight peeking through your windows enhanced Jungkook’s features. His doe eyes seemed to sparkle more, his smile was bigger and brighter than you’ve ever seen it. Then again, you could attribute that to the fact he had an orgasm not even ten minutes ago, but still - he seemed different. A radiating glow. You wondered if you had one too.

“Where would we even go?” he decided to entertain the idea, although deep down he knew it was impossible. Your parents would spend whatever resources necessary to bring you back here to Reeva. Afterall, you were, not only the eldest, but the most qualified of your siblings to inherit the throne. Your younger sister, a carefree spirit who would rather spend her time exploring the city than learning how to write eloquent letters to convince an enemy kingdom to decrease their tariffs, did not have the knowledge or skill to be a bridge between the people and the law. Your younger brother, a fool most people would describe him, but you saw him as a man with no ambition. He was indifferent to the world and would rather spend his time exploring the beds of the young maidens in the castle. That left Reeva in your hands.

“Anywhere. Everywhere.” You finally decided as your answer, “The world has so much to offer us, Jungkook. Why stay in a place that forbids us to love each other just because I’m seen as heir to the throne and you’re seen as my protector.” Jungkook loved hearing you talk about your immense love for him. The way you would sacrifice everything for him. He had never known a love so deep and pure. Growing up as an orphan, he thought love was a concept that didn’t exist. People would abandon each other eventually, it was only a matter of time. Yet, with you, no matter how many times he failed or made himself look like a fool, you remained by his side and encouraged him to get back up. He reached out his hand and gently stroked your cheek, admiring the way you released a content sigh at the physical contact.

“A place where we could love each other freely…” he tested the idea with his tongue, saying it out loud for the first time. He had to admit, a swarm of butterflies invaded his chest at the mere thought of being able to hold your hand freely in public. Without any spectators giving him dirty looks, or covering their mouths to point out how you carried an air of grace, while he carried himself with the mannerism of a commoner.

“Mmhm… Doesn’t that sound nice?” you smiled sleepily, your previous activities with Jungkook draining you of most of your energy, but you still had enough power to lean forward and press your lips against his in a soft, sweet kiss. You could feel him smile against your lips before releasing a low hum of agreement.

The moment, like every beautiful moment in life, did not last.

The door to your chambers was forced open with a great kick. Startled, you and Jungkook pulled away from each other, as your first instinct was to cover yourself up with your linen. Guards came swarming into your space and surrounded the bed you shared with Jungkook. You couldn’t even process everything that was happening. The motion of the clustered bodies moving like a blur, until two distinct presence made themselves known. Your blood ran cold as you noticed the fire that ignited in your father’s eyes as he took in the scene before him - you and Jungkook in your bed together, naked and covered in love bites. He didn’t even give you time to explain yourself before he was marching over to Jungkook’s side and drawing the tip of his sword to your lover’s neck.

“Father wait--” you tried to reason with him, thinking he was about to drag the blade against Jungkook’s throat, but he proceeded with words rather than action, much to your surprise.

“You will be tried for high treason against the royal family. You will be stripped of your title as a member of the Battle Triumph Soldiers. And you will no longer be known as a knight of Reeva. Should you be found guilty of your crime, there is only one punishment fitting of such betrayal - death. Do you have any objections?”

You sucked in a deep breathe at the word “death” knowing well that the council (comprised of your father, mother, your father’s advisor Sir Lee and Commander Bang) would unanimously find Jungkook guilty. The hard stare your father sent Jungkook was meant to be intimidating, you could tell, but all you could see in his eyes was pity and despair. He was, after all, the one who took Jungkook under his wing and trained him to be the man he is today. Despite the tough front your father always portrayed, you always knew he had a soft spot for Jungkook. He was every inch of what the king wanted your brother to be, but could never achieve. But at that moment, he was casting all emotions aside and using his head to make every decision. The King couldn’t risk a scandal like this being exposed to the other kingdoms. They would seize it as an opportunity to cast doubt over his authority and possibly overthrow him. Jungkook was no longer a boy orphaned by war, he was a man who had to take responsibility for his actions.

“No, I have no objections.”

Wide eyed, you whipped your head to the man next to you and looked at him in disbelief. Was the post-orgasm high interfering with his brain? You sat up straighter, carrying an air of dignity that had been instilled into you since birth - you weren’t about to let these men make you feel ashamed for making love to the man you love - and started to protest on his behalf, “On the contrary, he objects to every statement you just made!”

“You will hold your tongue until--” your mother began, but your father raised a hand to silence her.

You decided to use the opportunity to continue talking, “Father, I beg of you, hear me out. None of this was Jungkook’s fault. It was I who initiated this- this- this whole thing. He refused all of my advances, saying he knows his place, but I convinced him that his rightful place should be with me because I--” you paused, unsure if your words was making the situation better or worse for Jungkook, but you were desperate to cling onto anything that would resolve this mess, even if it meant revealing the truth, “Because I lo--”

“I’d hate to reveal my intentions in front of everyone like this, Princess, but I thought I should save you the embarrassment of your next words by speaking my truth.” All you could do was blink inquisitively at Jungkook, whose demeanor and attitude had suddenly transformed into one you had never seen before, “And that truth is… I used you. Well, used your body more specifically.” It was like choking on air as you listened to Jungkook’s confession. Nothing was holding your throat hostage, yet you were finding it difficult to breathe. Why are you doing this? You wanted to scream at him. Why are you lying so effortlessly in front of everyone? Why are you trying to take all the blame? “You made it so easy for me too. With the way you practically flung yourself at me every time we were alone. I almost felt bad stringing you along... Almost. Then again, sleeping with you did also pose some benefits seeing how I got to sleep in these luxurious chambers rather than my worn out closet space.”

Jungkook’s “confession” landed him a swift blow to his face, courtesy of your father who either believed his story or wanted to believe his story just so he could portray Jungkook to be the villain in this entire mess, “Father, stop!” Your first instinct was to jump in front of the dark haired boy and use your own body as a shield, but the guard closest to you captured your arm, preventing you from doing so. Your father took another swing at the knight and the momentum of his hit threw Jungkook to the floor with a loud thud. You watched in horror as the King pulled his leg back and swiftly landed a kick to what you presumed, judging from the suffocated groan, was Jungkook’s abdomen. “Enough!” you finally yell with a force so great, that even the guard gripping your arm was startled. With a ragged breath, and tears on the brink of escape, you yanked your arm from the guard and crawled to the other edge of the bed to where your father was standing, “Please, have mercy on him,” you begged, head hung low and hands clasped together as if you were praying to a saint. From the corner of your eye, you focused on Jungkook’s remorse expression and apologized mentally that you couldn’t do more for him. You couldn’t gauge your father’s reaction, but you knew he must have been furious seeing his heir to the throne on her knees, for a man who didn’t possess an ounce of royal blood.

Your father cleared his throat, a sign for you to raise your head. His eyes lacked emotion so you couldn’t tell what he was thinking, “Guards, dress him and lock him up in the dungeons. I don’t want him in my sights for another second,” he finally commanded. Two men quickly found Jungkook’s discarded articles of clothing and dressed him before dragging him out of your room. Your eyes followed his body’s movement, even when he was out of sight, all you could do was stare helplessly at the door, “Leave us,” your father commanded the remaining guards, who quickly scurried away from his tone.

“How did you know?” you finally decided to ask after a moment of silence. Your eyes were still transfixed on the empty doorway, waiting for his answer, until a new figure came into view. She hung her head low in shame and her shoulders slouched forward to make herself seem as small as she felt at that moment.

“I have eyes all over the castle, my dear. As loyal as they are to you, they will always prioritize their loyalty to me, their King.” You couldn’t even process his words as an overwhelming sense of denial rushed through your system. Not her. Of all the people to betray you, please not her.

“Mrs. Kim?” you called out weakly, afraid that speaking her name out loud would confirm your fears. However, as soon as her name was called, she took the remaining steps to enter your room and make her presence known, “How- How could you?”

She bit her lip back in guilt, seemingly a loss for words to justify her actions. However, what came out next only made your hatred for the woman grow, “I’m so sorry. I have nothing else to say except that I’m so terribly sorry and that I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me.”

A harsh tug on your shoulder brought you back to reality as you realized that Mrs. Kim pulled you back to your feet and began shaking you frantically.

“I know you can never trust me again after what I did to you, but all I ask is that you listen to my reason for doing so.”

“I refuse! No explanation can take back the consequences of your actions. You have betrayed not just me or Jungkook, but Namjoon and the rest of the Battle Triumph Soldiers. Do you not see the pain in their eyes during war tactic conferences as they stare at the empty seat that once belonged to Jungkook? Or how Namjoon still expects Jungkook to pull one of his antics right before training? Maybe you’ve seen how Seokjin still sharpens and polishes Jungkook’s sword every morning? Or noticed how Yoongi still eats half his meal because he thinks Jungkook would ask for the rest of it? Can you tell Hoseok is still the first to take off his gear because he expects Jungkook to jump on his back? Do you see Jimin linger at Jungkook’s door? Longing for a friend to confide his struggles to? Have you watched Taehyung visit Jungkook’s grave with flowers and just cry uncontrollably? Because I’ve seen it Mrs. Kim. I’ve seen it all. And seeing them go through that reopens every wound Jungkook’s death has caused and refreshes every ounce of hatred I have towards you.” Mrs. Kim can’t even think of a response to your confession. Her grip on her shoulder fell as she stood motionless in the middle of the hall. A quick observation of your surroundings helped you determined that you were in the middle of the West hall, the hall that leads to the battle arena.

Your blood ran cold as the gates of the arena stared you down, taunting you with the knowledge of what that place represented. As you expected, Jungkook was found guilty of treason sentenced to death. How you wish your father showed mercy by making it a quick execution. Rather, he chose to spark a flame of hope within you by sentencing him to a duel - a battle to save his life. Jungkook was a talented knight, that was an undeniable fact that the entire kingdom knew, but his opponent, Sir Hyun, was exemplary. As the Head Knight, nations quaked in fear when they crossed his path and would rather be met with a death by a blade than at the hands of Sir Hyun. He was relentless when given a task and always made sure to leave no victim behind. A madman is what most would call him, and they would be completely justified in their beliefs. The bottom of your lip began to quiver as flashes of that day played out.

Jungkook dragging his practically lifeless body to the center of the arena.

His opponent’s merciless attacks on his weakened body.

Jungkook’s poor attempts at defending himself.

The battle ending with a fatal blow to your lover’s chest.

“Princess?” Mrs. Kim tried capturing your attention when she noticed your rigid state, but it was no use, you couldn’t escape the image painted inside your head. The only man you ever loved lying in a crimson pool, choking on his own blood. The way you ran to him and held his head in your lap as your tears decorated his pale face. The quiet hush that fell over the crowd as they watched you cradle your lover back and forth. The heartbroken wails that escaped your lips as you desperately yelled for anyone to help him. The audience only offered silent murmurs of what they speculated was going on. Your parents, the King and Queen of the kingdom, astonished by the events unfolding in front of him.

“Mother! Father! Please, I love him!” Their silent judgment only brought fresh tears to your face as you realized they would offer no aid to the dying man. His voice called out what sounded like your name, so you focused your attention back to him, leaning closer so he wouldn’t strain himself trying to speak up.

“D- Dont be afraid of go-goodbye.”

You frantically shook your head, refusing to believe this is where it ends for the both of you, “No, no, no. This isn’t goodbye, it can’t be. I refuse to accept it.”

His weak smile caused you to grimace, knowing how much effort it must take for the small action, “It’s okay…” he muttered, his voice notably getting fainter, “Because I promise you… I’ll find you again.” Your brows knitted together in confusion at his words.

“Wha-What do you mean you’ll find me again?”

He broke into a smile at your inquisitive stare. How is it that even as death lay waiting at his door he could still see every detail etched into your face. From the small crease in your brow, to the small crinkles around your glassy eyes as you tried to decipher his words. Knowing that it would be Jungkook’s last time seeing your face he made sure to take in every detail and appreciate the beauty that you are, “One day…” he began, the throbbing pain in his chest was slowly subsiding. He wasn’t sure if that was a good sign or a bad one, but he welcomed the peace, “We’ll be together again.”

Still confused by his words, thinking his wound was making him confused, you shook your head once again, “I don’t want to wait until one day. I want to be with you right now. Now. I wanted to live the rest of our lives together. Have children together along the way and start a family. To grow old and watch our generations prosper. Doesn’t that sound nice, Jungkook?”

His smile turned into a painful one. Not because of his injury, but because he could perfectly see the future you described. Two children, one boy and one girl, running around a small cottage as you sat in his lap with eyes full of love at the children you two had created. At night when the children were in bed, you and him would be awake, confessing your heart’s desires through touches and kisses. He could see it so vividly in front of him that he almost convinced himself that he wasn’t currently dying, but Jungkook knew. He knew it was unattainable.

“It sounds wonderful.” he confessed, voice growing weaker, “And we don’t have to say goodbye to that dream, just… until next time.”

At the mention of ‘until next time’, you understood what he meant. Reeva had a tradition when seeing their knights off to battle in foregin territory. From a young age, every inhabitant of the kingdom was required to memorize a stanza entitled an Ode to Safe Travels. You always found it ridiculous because you thought it was nothing but a poetic way of saying goodbye. As you grew older and wiser, you realized it was not a poetic goodbye, but a promise to be reunited once again, whether it be in this life or the next one. And so with a tear stained face, you inched your face closer to Jungkook and whispered your farewells.

“For honor, you part from this kingdom,” your voice was broken from tears as you recite the lines you have spoken countless times to Jungkook before he was sent off to battle, but this time it was different because you knew he would not return from the place he going to, “In glory, you find victory in the next.” He raised a hand to brush away a few of your tears and hold your cheek in the palm of his hand. You welcomed his touch by leaning into it and holding it firm against your face, “Safe travels wherever the wind carries you.” You watched as tranquility took over his features and his eyes began to flutter close. Your heart clenched painfully at the sight and you squeezed his hand that was resting against your cheek in hopes of transferring some of your life force into him. However, dragging on the seconds into minutes would not extend Jungkook’s life so you forced yourself to finish the rest of the poem, “And may the stars guide you back to me,” He used his remaining strength to force a smile, sealing his promise to be reunited with you once again, whenever that may be.

“For honor, you part from this kingdom. In glory, you find victory in the next. Safe travels wherever the wind carries you. And may the stars guide you back home.”

-Reeva’s parting ode to their knights

#btsbookclub #jungkook au #jungkook x reader #jungkook angst #reader insert #bts #jungkook fanfic #bangstanfics #Ode to Safe Travels

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dismalzelenka · 3 years

Text

Dawn

Heyyy! I'm breaking my DA hiatus to submit this brief moderately lengthed ok maybe it got a little out of hand fluff idek anymore anyway it’s for @dapolyshippingday!

Takes place as sort of a postlude in the Your Arms Feel Like Home universe. Cullen/Amell/Jowan, 4500 words. Explicit. AO3 Link Here.

Enjoy!

There was always something otherworldly about seeing the dawn through the skylight windows. Solona was plenty used to seeing those telltale streaks of color from the other end of the day, usually following hours of binge drinking or manic painting.

Waking up to them was much, much rarer.

It took a minute or two to shake the sleep from dream clouded eyes, transfixed as she was on whatever weird liminal feeling this bizarrely early morning instilled in her. Piece by piece, memories of last night returned.

For once, she had agreed to keep the apartment booze-free for a full twenty-four hours. Jowan had insisted. She'd protested thoroughly, of course. "Come on, it's my birthday!" she'd begged through pleading, sparkling eyes, but he'd remained firm.

"Cullen? Back me up here!"

He'd merely shrugged, carefully adjusting the glasses her flailing had knocked askew. "There's a first time for everything, isn't there?"

His flat response drew a rare chuckle from Jowan, who up til that point had been nervously smoothing the front of his blue and black striped button up with unsteady hands.

This was new territory for all of them.

"I swear, love, you'll be happy to have remained sober for this," Jowan promised. The quickly masked wince on his face further highlighted the unprecedented nature of the situation. An unfamiliar familiarity. A pet name she hadn't heard in months, one that felt as foreign now to her ears as it seemed to taste on his lips.

Cullen cleared his throat and broke the uncomfortable silence. "Shall we be off then? Wouldn't want to be late."

"Says you," Solona grumbled. She grabbed her signature leather jacket and bent down to finish lacing up her boots. "Neither of you have said where you're taking me."

"That's what surprises are," Jowan said, affectionately ruffling her hair.

There it was again. A telltale stiffness to a familiar motion, a measure of distance to something that used to flow as naturally as moving water.

The cab ride was silent, but not entirely uncomfortable. Cullen had passed the driver a crumpled slip of paper that presumably contained the address, muttering an awkward thank you in broken Orlesian before clambering into the back seat.

Jowan sat to her right, plaid green and brown scarf clashing horribly as usual with his shirt, shaggy hair unkempt alongside what was at this point a perpetual five o'clock shadow. He had a way of looking thoroughly uncomfortable in almost every setting imaginable, but the warmth of his hand on her thigh told her he was trying his best today.

Cullen sat at her left, curly blonde hair styled back neatly with gel. He'd chosen a maroon sport coat to wear over a black polo with a golden lion stitched onto the pocket. Tucked into dark grey jeans, naturally. Solona doubted the man had ever owned a nice pair of slacks in his life. She'd seen his wardrobe. It was one set of dress blues, two officer uniforms, a single, raggedy set of khakis, and fifteen identical black shirts next to exactly three pairs of jeans: blue, grey, and black, all cut the exact same way.

Maybe she'd get him a suit tailored for his birthday next year.

His boot knocked softly into hers, and when she looked up he was smiling softly at her with something strangely close to adoration, and now it was her turn to shift uncomfortably in her seat.

“Everything alright?” Jowan murmured.

There was an odd sort of energy in the cab between the three of them. It was as though no one wanted to be the first to speak above a whisper, like the slightest increase in volume would shatter these small and tentative beginnings slowly unfolding across their laps. There would be no first kiss tonight; no, it was far too late for that. There had been a myriad of kisses over the years, a plethora of just plain fucking with the occasional lovemaking sprinkled in, all punctuated by explosive fights and violent nights alone. She had words for all of those things, but this? She didn’t know what to call this. There was nothing in her vocabulary that described the kind of energy that surrounded them.

“I think so,” she said, the words barely a whisper by the time they made it to her lips.

“Alors...” the cab driver began tentatively. “Lequel de vous est l’amant?”

Solona’s head shot up, the suspended stillness shattered by his gravelly voice as the words sank in. “Um,” she began. “I don’t...what...” She felt her cheeks turn pink and she elbowed Jowan in the ribs for confirmation. “Hey, did that mean what I think it did?” she whispered.

Jowan’s face was beet red. “He...ah...yes, probably,” he stammered. “He wants to know which of us is...you know. The um.” He lowered his voice to an even quieter whisper. “The lover.”

A nervous giggle shot out from her lips. “Oh. Oh! Right. Yep. Hah, I um.” She scrambled for both of their hands. She didn’t even have to look at Cullen to see the flush of crimson on his cheeks.

Maker’s balls, how old was she, twelve?

The driver, to his credit, seemed to pick up the implication. “Ahh,” he said, eyebrows waggling. “Ménage à trois, eh?“

Jowan sank further into his seat. “Maker,” he muttered.

“Yes?” she squeaked.

“Ah, très bien,” he nodded sagely as he pulled the cab into a cramped parking space. “Bonne chance!”

“Maker’s breath,” she heard Cullen mutter. He clambered out of the cab the second the driver parked it. Jowan quickly followed suit, offering her a hand to help her out. He refused to meet her eyes.

“So...” she began, fighting the laugh toying at the edge of her breath. “Who’s supposed to be paying him?”

“Oh!” Cullen dug through his coat pocket and pulled out a crumpled wad of bills he then promptly thrust in through the open window. “Um. Yes. Right. Thank you.”

The cab driver laughed. “Merci!” he said. He winked, rolled the window up, and drove off, leaving the three of them standing, rather flustered, at the curb.

“Well,” Solona said finally. “Alright then, where the fuck are we--”

She trailed off as she looked around. In front of her stood the spiraling marble columns of the Musée de Montsimmard, carefully chiseled marble steps rising elegantly to a massive glass entryway where crowds of well dressed people milled about. A smile broke out on Jowan’s face. “Well,” he said finally. “We’re here.”

She’d been to the museum plenty of times already, of course. Between research for her coursework and the occasional casual tour, she was intimately familiar with its layout. Lately, however, embroiled as she was in her writing, she hadn’t been in quite some time, and the familiar delicate wire structures gracing the front pavilion felt like a warm welcome home.

“I hope you like the exhibit we’ve come to see,” Cullen said. She was suddenly aware of him standing behind her, warmth radiating across her back as he gently rested his chin on her shoulder. She glanced tentatively at Jowan, bracing herself for his reaction, but for once, he seemed oddly content, not even a whisper of a grimace on his features. He simply extended his hand again, smile never leaving his face.

“It is quite striking,” he said, eyes crinkling with mischief as he laced his fingers with hers.

She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “What the fuck have you two been up to?”

“Patience, my dear,” Cullen whispered into her ear, sending a warm prickle straight down her spine. He enveloped her other hand with his, a much rougher grip than Jowan’s but no less gentle, and the two of them tugged her forward.

The foyer awaited her, the familiar cream colored walls, plaques, paintings, and sculptures welcoming her in with soft familiarity. She paused for a moment to take it all in, drinking in the comfortable, muted stillness with an almost desperate sort of need. She could come here every day and never tire of it.

Cullen and Jowan, however, had other ideas. “Come on, this isn’t what we came here for,” Jowan said with a grin.

Solona pouted but relented as they tugged her toward the reception counter. Jowan strode forward, and Solona took a moment to appreciate the uncharacteristic amount of confidence he had gained since they’d moved to Orlais. She spoke the language, yes; she had to, for her degree, obviously, but Jowan was the only one of the three of them who was comfortably, conversationally fluent so far.

It was nice, seeing him like this. He’d never been particularly confident in social situations back in Kirkwall. Neither of them had been, really; she was always just better at hiding it behind humor and dismissive indifference, but it was hard to relax in a city filled with the ghosts of so many of her worst memories. Montsimmard was a fresh start for them all, and Jowan was beginning to thrive in the freedom of it.

She and Cullen approached the counter after him. The woman behind the desk, a willowy, freckled, mousey-haired woman with soft brown eyes and an even softer voice stared at her for a moment, wide eyed. “Madam Amell!” she exclaimed, jumping to her feet. “We are so excited to have you here with us today! Please, follow me!”

Solona felt her eyebrows climb her forehead. “Okay, seriously you two, what the fuck is going on?” she said finally.

Cullen said nothing, simply nodding his head after the woman with a faint smile playing on his lips. Solona pouted but relented.

The main exhibition hall branched off to several smaller rooms. They followed the receptionist into one of them, and what Solona saw knocked the air straight from her lungs.

“Thank you all for joining us today!” a guide announced from the podium. “As many of you know, the Musée de Montsimmard rose from the ashes of what was once, for centuries, the largest Circle of Magi in Orlais.We are forever grateful for the patronages that have allowed this incredible undertaking, and continue to allow it to this day.

“For centuries, our city has shined a beacon for anyone with magic shimmering in their veins. In recent decades we have stood firm against countless onslaughts against the personal freedoms of those once caged within these walls. Today, we are showcasing works by a remarkable woman, an artist of incredible talent who has overcome so many of the very challenges this city has striven to eliminate since the Circles were first dissolved. This exhibition is a tribute to mages everywhere: the celebrated, the hated, the many survivors of untold tragedy, and the memories of those who never saw the sun rise on their liberation.”

“Jowan?” Solona felt tears in the corners of her eyes. “Cullen? What is this?”

Cullen said nothing and simply wrapped an arm tightly around her shoulder. Jowan stood at her other side and slipped an arm snugly around her waist.

“Everyone, in honor of the survivors of the horrific Tranquil Solution, in honor of mages everywhere, we present: Liberté!”

“That’s...I...”

In the center of the exhibit was a painting, her painting. A crumbling tower rose in the background. A girl in the foreground stood in rags, a girl with dark curly hair, a girl that represented everything she wished she could have had in her childhood, stood in the forefront, one arm outstretched overhead, triumphantly shooting a beam of light to the heavens as the sun peeked over a horizon of brilliant blues and purples and twinkling stars.

The guide was now reading a brief biography of the artist, of her, but his voice faded into static as she stood in shocked silence. She could recall every moment of painting that image with sparkling clarity, every sleepless night and lyrium binge and emptied bottle of liquor swept to the wayside in manic obsession.

The finishing touches had been done without electricity, by candlelight and mage light, in despairing silence while the streets of Kirkwall burned.

Tears streamed down her cheeks. “I don’t understand. I don’t understand, we left all of that behind, I thought it was lost forever, how did you--how did either of you--”

“The rest of the precinct helped,” Cullen said wryly. “We went and salvaged it all from your old apartment after the dust settled. It came over with me when I finally packed up and met the two of you for good, and the rest of it was all him.” He gestured at Jowan, who was beaming.

“I may have pulled some strings with some colleagues here,” he admitted. “I was hesitant at first, and certainly not very hopeful, but the director here was, ah, quite enthusiastic about the collection once she saw it and heard your story.”

Solona sniffled and leaned her weight into their arms. “I don’t know what to say,” she whispered.

“Would you like us to give you some space?” Jowan asked softly.

She shook her head. “No,” she sniffed. “No. Don’t go.”

The rest of the evening passed in a daze. At some point, the curator approached her and had a conversation that must have been coherent, given the business card that went home with her after the fact, but she would have been lying if she said she remembered what sorts of words were exchanged.

The cab ride home was an equally hazy affair, one with much less decorum than the trip there. She watched the street lights tick by as she lay in Jowan’s arms, feet propped up in Cullen’s lap, taking solace in the weighty feeling of his hands on her calves. It was strange, this feeling settling into her limbs. It was intoxicatingly euphoric, whatever this was. It felt like sinking into a warm bath at the end of a long day, like putting on a familiar, well-worn sweater that smells faintly of someone you love--

The soft edges slammed into focus.

She sat up immediately. “Stop the cab,” she said abruptly. “Stop the cab, I have to get out, I have to--”

The cab driver shrugged and pulled over, and she scrambled out over Jowan’s lap, almost tripping directly into the pavement. The world suddenly felt too small, the walls were closing in and her chest was gripped by an alarmingly familiar ache and an equally intense, crippling fear.

This was wrong. This was wrong, because there was no way, no way on this earth this was the correct version of her life.

She felt her knees hit the sidewalk and squeezed her eyes shut. She couldn’t open them. If she did, she would be standing in Kirkwall again, and she wasn’t sure if that was something she could bear the weight of right now.

“Solona.”

Jowan’s voice tugged at the edges of her consciousness. She shook her head. She felt her chest heaving with sobs. Distantly, in the back of her mind, she was aware she was making a scene, but she didn’t know how to hold any of it in. She never had.

“Solona, what’s wrong?” Cullen’s voice this time, floating over her, filled with a familiar confusion.

“I don’t want to wake up,” she gasped through the splitting ache in her chest. “I don’t want to go back. I can’t.”

“We don’t have to, love.” Jowan wrapped her hands in his and helped her stand as Cullen supported her from behind. “This is home now.”

Solona opened her eyes. She could see the street lamps reflecting on Jowan’s cheeks, also wet with tears as he brushed her cheek with his fingers. “This is home,” he repeated, more firmly this time.

“He’s right,” Cullen murmured behind her. She turned and met his gaze, the air slowly returning to her lungs in tiny increments. “Last I checked, we’re all here to stay.”

She nodded slowly, incredulously, looking around at the shops and traffic lights, and at the handful of onlookers glancing over in apparent concern. The air smelled like lavender and magnolia and nothing at all like Kirkwall’s murky blend of industrial smoke and stale saltwater. The signs were all in delicate Orlesian script with the occasional translation beneath here and there. Somewhere to her right, a woman unlocked her car with a dismissive wave of her hand and not a single other person seemed to take notice.

“This is home,” she murmured.

Jowan wiped the tears from her face as Cullen planted a kiss on her forehead. “Home,” Jowan repeated.

“Which, incidentally, is only three blocks away, if you both fancy some fresh air,” Cullen pointed out. “At least, I hope I’m reading that sign correctly.”

The laugh exploded from Solona’s chest, so suddenly she almost didn’t recognize the sound. She turned and planted a kiss square on his lips, then whirled around and kissed Jowan in turn. Reality was shifting again, as it so often did for her, but for the first time in her life, it didn’t feel so bad.

Her shoes were off before she even made it to the front door. Cullen helped her out of her jacket as her fingers made hasty work of the buttons on Jowan’s shirt. Jowan’s lips met hers, softly at first, with only the slightest hesitation, as Cullen slipped her blouse off of her shoulders. The sounds of two more pairs of shoes hitting the floor rang behind her as she leaned into the kiss. She scraped her teeth across Jowan’s lip and drew a weak moan from his throat that sent shivers of anticipation shooting through her core.

She felt Cullen’s stubble graze her shoulder as he planted a string of hot kisses down her shoulder. Her bra came undone, and she flung it clumsily away from her without a single care for where it landed. She almost tripped over her pants as the three of them stumbled to the bedroom, and she cursed quietly as she kicked them away.

Cullen’s hands trailed down to her hips, then back up to her chest, his touch rough and warm as Jowan buried his fingers in her hair. Cullen rolled a nipple between his fingers and she gasped into Jowan’s mouth, every nerve on overdrive as her body craved more.

Her body crashed onto the mattress. Cullen clambered on the bed with her, cradling her head in his lap as Jowan pulled away and positioned himself between her legs. It was Cullen’s turn to kiss her now, fervent and passionate. He smelled like mint and aftershave and for a moment all she could focus on was the way his tongue felt against hers.

Jowan parted her gently with his fingertips. Solona shuddered and gasped when he closed his lips around her clit, warmth blooming between her thighs with the sweet ache of arousal.

Cullen swirled his fingers around her nipples as he cupped her breasts with both hands, pinching with just enough pressure to send lightning through her spine. She reached up, blindly, to touch him, any part of him, but he pulled his hands away and closed them over hers. “Not yet,” he whispered into her mouth. “This is for you right now.”

She could only moan in assent, eyes squeezed shut as Jowan’s tongue between her legs sent her spiraling higher and higher.

“There we go,” Cullen murmured, gently stroking her hair. He shifted his legs slightly as he leaned in to kiss her again.

“Fuck,” she whimpered. The static began to build. “Please.”

“Let go,” Cullen whispered.

And she did. She hit her peak and cried out, body trembling under wave after wave of euphoric bliss as Jowan gently brought her back to earth. She slumped back in Cullen’s lap, letting her fingers trail up his torso as he ran his fingers through her curls.

Jowan kissed his way up to her navel, cradling her trembling body with his arms as he planted delicate kisses along her stomach, trailing upward until he gently captured one of her nipples between his teeth.

Cullen slipped out from his position beneath her head and took Jowan’s place at the foot of the bed as she writhed under Jowan’s touch. “Kiss me, please,” she whispered. She could taste herself on Jowan’s lips, was drowning under his touch, losing herself in the sensations of hands and fingers and lips.

She gasped when Cullen entered her, agonizingly slowly, both hands gently grasping her by the hips as he sank into her with deliberate, measured intensity. The friction made her body sing, and she felt her hips moving almost of their own accord, begging him to move faster.

She would have asked out loud, but Jowan’s fingers trailing down her collarbone, his lips ghosting hot kisses down her ear and across her neck, had left her incapable of finding words for much of anything.

“In my mouth,” she finally managed to gasp, fingers closing around Jowan’s wrist. “I want you in my mouth.”

“Anything for you,” he whispered.

She tipped her head back and let her lips close around the tip of his length. It was his turn to shudder as she swirled her tongue around the head. She reached up and wrapped her fingers around his shaft, closing them just tight enough to slowly pump him as Cullen drove into her, each stroke intentional and methodical and filling her with a need so intense it was almost painful.

Where her end was vocal and filled with explosive fireworks, Jowan’s was gentle and quiet. He instinctively moved to withdraw, but she tapped him on the thigh and shook her head ever so slightly, mentally pleading for him not to move. She needed to taste him, needed it so badly it was driving her frantic with desire. She caught his hand in hers and squeezed it, gentle and reassuring as she met his eyes a split second before he gripped back tightly, eyes closing, hips bucking into her mouth as he came.

And Maker, was he a beautiful sight when he did, the way his tousled brown hair stuck to his forehead with sweat, his freckled chest heaving as he caught his breath. The way the corners of his eyes crinkled when he squeezed them shut, the faintest shy smile blooming across his face.

He was breathtaking, and in this moment she wondered how she had ever pushed him away. She prayed she never would again.

Cullen paused then, withdrawing from her and drawing a whine of protest from her lips. He held out a hand and pulled her gently upright into a deep kiss. “Sit on my face,” he murmured teasingly against her lips. “I want to taste you too.”

She wasn’t sure what possessed her to ask it. She’d never really speculated overmuch on the nature of their relationship with each other at this point; she’d never seen them be particularly affectionate with each other without her involved. Part of her, truthfully, feared the answer, feared what it would do to this fragile sense of tranquility she’d finally managed to grasp, but the question slipped from her love-drunk lips before she could hold it in:

“Can you kiss each other?”

Cullen’s eyebrows raised, and she heard Jowan shift on the bed behind her. Anxiety gripped her suddenly, and she nervously began to shrink into herself. “You don’t...you don’t have to,” she stammered. “It would...I think it would...”

“I think it would be nice,” Jowan finished. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders.

“As do I,” Cullen murmured reassuringly. He took her hands in his and squeezed them, and when she looked closer, a shy flush had crept into his cheeks.

She scooted back on the bed then, equal parts reassured and transfixed as their lips met. Jowan’s kisses were always tentative at first, each brush of his lips a question softly begging for an answer. Cullen kissed back firmly, decisive and precise, one hand nestling gently along Jowan’s jawline, the other winding into Jowan’s hair.

It was one thing to kiss Jowan. It was another thing entirely to watch Jowan be kissed. Jowan melted into Cullen’s arms, gripping tightly to his back as Cullen claimed his lips, then pulled away and nipped gently at his jaw, trailing kisses down his neck. The way they moved together, hands seeking purchase, bodies aligned, filled her with a need she didn’t even know she had, and she reached between her legs and slipped two fingers into herself with a breathless moan.

She pumped in and out of herself, rubbing furiously at her clit with her thumb, letting out an audible gasp when Jowan disengaged and slowly sank to his knees, hands gripping Cullen’s hips and thighs as he slowly took Cullen’s cock in his mouth. “Oh, fuck,” she whispered. “Fuck, that is. Maker. You’re both so beautiful.”

“Wait,” Cullen murmured. He ran his fingers through Jowan’s hair before reaching down and gently tugging him to his feet. “I want both of you.”

Solona couldn’t keep her hands off of him as he positioned himself on the bed beneath her. Jowan knelt between Cullen’s legs, and when he looked up at her through sweat soaked hair she almost came right then.

How was he so beautiful? How were they both so beautiful?

How close had she come to losing them both?

And then Cullen’s tongue swiped her clit and her thoughts sank into blissful surrender. She fought to keep her eyes open as she rode him, shuddering when he moaned into her. Jowan’s head bobbed up and down on Cullen’s cock, one hand wrapped around the base of it, the other pressed into the mattress. Her breathing quickened as Cullen traced shapes into her slit, teasing at the tip of her clit until she felt her limbs would catch on fire.

She couldn’t keep her eyes open anymore. It was too much, everything was too much, and she was lost without an anchor in a wash of sensation and emotion. She searched for Jowan’s hand on the mattress. Jowan laced his fingers into hers and squeezed, and she wondered if it were possible for her heart to explode with the intensity of it all.

“Please,” she murmured again. She clung to them both, Jowan’s hand in her right, Cullen’s gripped tightly to her left, thighs aching as she climbed into the stratosphere. “Please, please, please.”

She felt Cullen shudder and jerk beneath her, moaning into her as he came, and the vibrations sent her teetering over her peak, plunging into a wave of color and sound and oh, Maker, oh fuck--

When she opened her eyes again, she was cradled between them both. She lay there for a moment in disbelieving silence, listening to them breathe on either side of her, drinking in the warmth of their chests as Cullen nuzzled her forehead with his lips and Jowan whispered soft “I love you”s into the nape of her neck. Twinkling orbs of mage light danced lazily on the ceiling.

This was home, she realized. It was home on a level that shook her to her core, in a way she’d never, ever experienced, because this was a home that would be here when the dust settled. This was a home that could exist for good, a home that came with so much more than the desperate but empty promises of a morning that had never before been guaranteed.

But morning would come.

Morning would come, and she would still be home.

Fin.

Thanks to my partner in crime @laraslandlockedblues for creating this particular AU with me, and an extra big thank you to all of my new fandom friends who gave me the space to let this muse out. I love and appreciate every single one of you.

#dapolyshippingday #lemon #so much lemon #probably a little over a third lemon #solona amell #cullen/amell/jowan #cullen/amell #jowan/amell #cullen/jowan #equal opportunity banging #ot3 #poly triad #amell sandwich #modern au #this was honestly supposed to just be three paragraphs of fluff #idk what happened there #solona's just got big feels all the time ok

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airquietworks · 4 years

Text

Moving In, Moving On, Moving Up

Summary: For Izuku Midoriya, moving in together with Ochako seemed like the most natural thing in the world to do.

But advancing to the next phase of his life - and saying farewell to everything that came before - was far more heart wrenching and confusing than he imagined.

Thankfully, he has just the right person to give him a lift.

_________________________________________________________

Izuku Midoriya had faced many challenges in his life. He competed at an extraordinarily difficult school, fought deadly villains, and even survived the many humiliations of dating.

But as he stared between the piles of boxes in the back of the truck and the massive, gray, 20-storey apartment building behind him, he knew nothing had prepared him for this.

Moving day, under a scorching summer sun. Quite possibly one of the greatest foes he had ever faced.

“This is really, really…” the energetic voice of his partner in life, love and heroics sounded from behind him. “Really a lot.”

Despite the daunting task, he couldn’t help but smile at Ochako Uraraka’s surly expression. It was strangely adorable, her rosy cheeks puffing out in a small pout.

“It didn’t look like it would be so bad when we were loading this up,” Izuku observed, before staring back up at the place that would be their home. “But now…”

“This is what we get for wanting a view,” she grumbled, stepping forward to grab onto a box. She scrunched her face up before donning a mask of determination, her eyes burning with sudden intensity. “Alright, let’s do it!”

Izuku grinned, her psyched-up energy infectious. “Right!”

With that, the two began the arduous journey of bringing each of their belongings into their apartment at the top floor of the building. Between their two Quirks, they thought better than to spend on movers. It was not the most glamorous home out there, but though they had started earning some money from internships, they wanted to keep things modest.

After a non-eventful elevator ride for their first run, they found themselves in front of their apartment, blocked by a plain, wooden door. Izuku stepped forward, wrestling the key from his pocket while holding a pair of boxes in one arm.

“We’re really here, huh?” Ochako said as he twisted the key, unlocking the door. “Our first day in our new home.”

“Hard to believe it,” he replied, his hand freezing on the door handle. They had already scoped the place out long before this, but stepping into it now seemed far more monumental.

This was his home now. Not his mother’s apartment. Not U.A High School. Those tearful goodbyes were behind him now. This is where he would try to become a real, professional hero.

He suddenly felt a warm hand over his frozen one.

“Together then,” Ochako suggested brightly, spurring him forward.

Izuku nodded, smiling back, snapped from his thoughts. He always appreciated her little pushes when he needed them. “Together.”

They twisted the handle and crossed the threshold to their new lives side-by-side.

Despite some anxiety, Izuku still felt blessed to be moving in with the love of his life. After everything they had endured, he knew it was right to take this step. The thought of getting to be with her was what had given him the strength to make those farewells in the first place.

Besides being on the top floor, their new apartment was humble. A small, open kitchen area overlooked their shared living space, which led out onto a large balcony. A side hall extended out into a basic washroom and two bedrooms. For now, it was an open and empty space, plain as could be. But that would quickly change throughout the day, as the heroes made their mark.

They both stepped forward at the same time, bumping their boxes into one another. Izuku laughed nervously, Ochako joining him after an awkward beat.

“After you,” he suggested, shifting out of the way.

She gave him a smile and a nod before taking a step, the sound ringing around the empty space. “Thanks. Going to be tricky moving stuff in this tight space.”“Yeah. It’s a little small.” Izuku let the word hang in the air. His mind whirred and he suddenly became nervous, wondering if the honest descriptor might offend. “But small is good! It’s cozy. Intimate, even. I love intimate!”

He realized the implications of the phrasing as soon as the rambling words left his mouth. He blushed and sputtered, trying to find something to say to regain his composure. He saw Ochako paused at his words, her cheeks also getting a bit pinker, as she turned to him with raised eyebrows.“Can we just forget I said that?” Izuku pleaded, smashing his face onto the top of his boxes. They were very close, but innuendo usually still tripped them up.

“Yeah, let’s do that,” she responded with a bit too much energy, sprinting forward to deposit her boxes in their future bedroom.

With a relieved sigh, Izuku walked forward, shaking his head, trying to calm his frayed nerves. What exactly was his malfunction? Why was he so tense?

Eager to distract himself and calm down, he stared grimly at the boxes in his hands and put all of his focus towards the task of moving.

It was not a simple process. Although he had super strength and she could make things weightless, the sheer volume of items and furniture to bring in was time-consuming. They frequently bumped awkwardly into one another or other people passing by. The summer heat did not help, and they quickly built up a sweat.

Stopping only for a hearty lunch of parent-made bento boxes (which they both shed a few tears over), they worked throughout the entirety of the day to get their belongings inside. They finally got started on unpacking in the early evening, slowly filling the empty rooms with pieces of themselves.

Izuku found himself pulling out a box of framed photographs in their shared bedroom. He was eager to place them somewhere before anything else; they were such a comfort to him as his school days became more difficult, and he felt he needed them now. The world might be hurtling ever forward, but he could take some solace in the preserved moments of the past.

He pulled out one picture featuring their whole class, gathered outside their dorm, beaming towards the camera, their faces filled with joy. It was a lot sillier than the formal class photograph they had taken earlier that day. This was a keepsake for all of them to remember each other by. He smiled down at the photo, fondly recalling the laughter-filled days living at those dorms, where he found the friendship he sorely missed growing up.

Placing it on a bedside table, he pulled out a completely different image of him and Ochako, pressed together with their faces glowing, dressed up in fancy outfits, wearing identical blushes. U.A. had mixed things up with a formal event in their third year. It was a fun evening, even if he was a bit clumsy when it came to dancing and ended up stepping on Ochako’s feet. Mina had forced them to take a photo together, and though it had felt awkward at the time, he had come to treasure it.

He still wondered how he had been so fortunate to find his relationship with Ochako. After mutual confession in their third year, their romance had been a breathtaking, chaotic whirlwind. Despite all the hardships they had to endure, they had lived to get to the other side of it, hand-in-hand.

The next photo he pulled out surprised him. He did not remember putting it in a frame, but it was certainly a treasured image. All Might, haggard as ever, beaming towards the camera. Embracing him, dressed up in cap and gown, as he held up his diploma proudly in his scarred hands. Tears flowed freely from both their eyes, the happiness of reaching that point overwhelming them, transforming them into blubbering messes.

It had been the last time he had seen his hero, mentor and father figure in person. They had talked it out, hugged and enjoyed their last hours together. Then All Might pushed Izuku out into the world to face it alone.

“You okay, Izuku? Oh, I love that photo!” The picture’s photographer came up behind him, resting her head over his shoulder. “I don’t remember seeing this in your room before.”

Izuku blinked, suddenly realizing his eyes were watering. He let out a breathy chuckle, rubbing a hand across his leaking eyelids. “Mom must have snuck it in.”“Aww, that’s sweet,” Ochako cooed, giving him a quick squeeze from the side before stepping back. “Do you need anything?”

“No, I’m okay,” Izuku sniffled, shaking his head to dispel the strange feeling of loss rolling around inside him. “Got a lot to unpack.”He noticed Ochako frown for a moment before she stepped away, turning her back to him. “Well, alright, if you say so. I’m going to go grab a drink. It’s way too hot. Let me know if you need a hand with anything in here.”

Izuku felt a sudden surge of affection towards his partner giving him some space. He was normally happy to be open with her, but he could not even process his feelings for himself.

He looked around their room, still empty except for the furniture. Eventually, the walls would be plastered with decoration. But for the first time, he knew his bedroom would not feature the visage of All Might at every corner.

Izuku pulled at his chin, pondering the situation. When he thought about it, it was the first time All Might would not be watching over him - not as a symbol, not as a hero, and not as a mentor.

Now, Deku walked alone, ready to begin carving out his own path as a professional.

He sighed, feeling the overbearing heat Ochako mentioned. Suddenly needing to cool down, he trudged out of the room, leaving the memories stowed away.

Izuku returned to their living area. He noticed Ochako was leaning back against the counter in the kitchen, her eyebrows furrowed, looking deep in contemplation as she idly ran her thumb along her phone’s screen.

Figuring it alright to leave her to her own devices, he headed out toward the balcony, eager to get some fresh air and time to collect his thoughts.

He took a deep breath as he walked outside, immediately leaning against the railing, feeling relieved as the breeze brushed across his forehead. The sight of Tokyo down below had been a big draw for them when they chose to live here. He appreciated the sights of the urban sprawl beneath him, with its bustling streets and impressive buildings. But the sweltering rays of the sun made the city of his destiny far hazier than he had pictured. After everything, he was finally here. A hero turning pro. Out in the world in Japan’s largest city, the centre of the action. The day was bright. The future should be even brighter.

But as he considered all the people below, that anxious, nagging part of his mind chimed in again. Millions were down there, counting on heroes like him. He would have to help them, working harder than he ever had before. This was it. No more time, no more tests, no more room for mistakes. No All Might over his shoulder, his mentor now ready to let him fly under his own strength. Now, he had to try and be the Symbol of Peace on his own. This was the real world. Everything here counted.

The moment engulfed his entire being, his mind getting lost in storming clouds, making it hard to keep calm. He stood on the edge of the world and his destiny. He knew he would need to plunge forward, but taking that step seemed all the more daunting.

“Oh, there you are,” a warm voice said from behind him. “Admiring the view?”

In a heartbeat, the spell ended, and Izuku found himself back in the present moment. He was merely a man standing on a balcony, with company approaching.

He did his best to push his melancholy aside and remain unphased by the intrusion. He knew he needed to just enjoy the present and not get too lost in spiralling thoughts.

“Yeah, definitely. The best part of the place,” Izuku replied quickly, eyes still staring forward as Ochako slid up next to him. He glanced at her, suddenly feeling smitten as he watched how the wind played with the bangs of her hair.

“It is really nice. But it’s still too hot,” she complained, wiping sweat from her brow. “I didn’t think this is what people meant by housewarming.”

Izuku could not help but guffaw at the lame gag which came so suddenly, and she soon joined him. He felt relief, pushing himself fully into the mirth, trying to let it blow the clouds in his mind away. “Well,” he began after a moment. “What did that article about our class say last week? That we were the ‘hottest new heroes around?’”

“We’re a couple of trailblazers, after all,” she replied with a grin, facing him.

“What’s the word they used for you? ‘Hot-blooded?’”

“Well, they called you a ‘blazing meteor.’”

Izuku paused, face scrunching in thought. “Okay, I think I’m out of puns.”

“I wish the writers had been,” Ochako muttered with a laugh, shaking her head and turning back to the gorgeous skyline.

The conversation fell away for a moment and content silence came upon them. Izuku watched her movements, curious, fascinated to see her thinking. She always could find a way to surprise him, and it made her one of his favourite people to study.

“What’s been bothering you today, Izuku?”

The tone in her voice was gentle, but he felt the energy between them shift, the easygoing mirth dissipating as quickly as it came. He groaned, realizing how silly it was to think he could hide anything from her.

“That noticeable, huh?”

“Well, you’ve always worn your heart on your sleeve. It’s not hard to tell.” He sighed, peering out over the edge of the railing to the streets directly below. “I guess it’s just weird, being here, you know? After all that time, all that work, to finally be moving and going pro, it’s just … a lot to take in.”

“I know what you mean,” Ochako nodded. She leaned her cheek into her hand, staring out. “This is really it. Things certainly didn’t happen the way I imagined them.”

“Me too,” Izuku muttered, looking towards the clear sky and picturing his idol. “All Might was always a solitary pillar of hope. I wanted to be just like him. Now, I’ll have to prove I can be.”

Ochako went quiet at that. She buried herself further into her arm, putting more of her weight over the railing. She murmured something unintelligible in her sleeve before poking her head back out.

“Are you…are you worried?”

Izuku frowned at that, his heart rattling in his chest in answer. He nodded. “I want to do everything I can to live up to him. I guess a part of me is still wondering if I can do it. Wondering how well I’ll do now that I won’t be seeing him often.”

From the side of his vision, he saw her head rise, her focus now intently on him.

“Do you want to know what I think?”

It was a simple enough question to answer. “Always.”

“That you’re going to do great tomorrow, Deku, and every day after that. Because you’re you. You’ve got this.”

“Ochako…” he felt his cheeks flush at the unabashed praise. They were never shy about giving that to one another, but he still felt bashful when he was on the receiving end.

“It’s okay that you’re feeling a little nervous now.” She stood up straighter, facing him head-on, a beautiful fire igniting in her eyes. “But I know the second you’re out there and someone needs your help, you’ll act without thinking. That’s just who you are. That’s Deku. Whatever you’re up against, I know you’ll win in the end.”

“I…thank you,” he whispered, his eyes starting to water again under her verbal onslaught. He wished he could convey his appreciation better, somehow.

“You know why I wanted to change that name for you, right?”

Izuku froze at the sudden question. It had been such a meaningful point in his life, but they had not talked much about her inadvertently giving him his hero name. It had helped create a powerful bond between them, that did not require words.

His mind flew back to them as school kids; naive, innocent, full of belief. So much had changed since then, yet Deku remained.

“I gave you that name because I thought you needed it. Because you couldn’t see yourself clearly. You couldn’t see how bright you shone, even back then.”Ochako stroked his cheek, holding him in her palm. He leaned in, his skin tingling at the contact, a pleasant chill making his way down his spine. He watched as her hand wandered down, over his shoulder, his chest and then right over his beating heart. “I’ll be there to remind you of that. Every day we’re here together. Every day of my life, if I have to. That you’re Deku. That you are the world’s greatest hero.” Her smile up at him was positively radiant. “And that you can do it.”

Izuku’s body moved on instinct, hugging her to him as he cried, trying to convey his appreciation with actions after she had taken his breath away. She chuckled beneath him, but melted within the embrace, sighing happily.

He realized despite all the fears that came with great change, he would make it through. Even if he no longer had All Might, his other teachers or the rest of their class with him on a daily basis.

Because he still had a guiding star, brighter than any other in the sky. He would grow and learn from her, as he had since the day they met.

The future was a scary thing. But knowing his hero would be there for him made it seem far less intimidating.

“And, you know, if you wanted to…to be more like All Might, I get it. Maybe we could try and keep some distance out there.”

Izuku’s eyes flew open at her words, his mind utterly befuddled by the shifting rack of the conversation. “What?”

“Well, we don’t have to tell people we’re a couple or we’re living together. We’re not working at the same agencies, either. We could make sure to hide our relationship if it would make you more comfortable. If you still wanted to stand more on your own like All Might, we could-”

“Ochako.” He stopped her by disengaging, holding her at arm’s length, looking at her downcast gaze. He saw now how his anxieties had spurred some of her own, her old nerves about their relationship coming to the forefront. But she pushed them aside to try and help him. It was so sweet and kind, but he hoped she could be more open with him in time.

“We’ve talked about this. I’m not having second thoughts about moving in together or being by your side.” He stared deeply into her eyes, imploring her to heed him. “My dream to help people, to be a pillar of hope, to become the world’s greatest hero - I want to do all of that with you. I never would have made it this far without your help. And I don’t know how far I’ll make it from this point without you.”

“Izuku…” she gulped, her mouth trembling, her eyes shining brilliantly beneath the setting sun.

“We’re going to help the world. Bring smiles to people’s faces, right?” It was a dream they shared and had discussed so often, it had become deeply ingrained in their memory.

“Rescue people,” Ochako continued, getting back into the spirit of it. “Including reckless heroes who need saving.”

Izuku chuckled, scratching at the back of his head at the pointed statement. “We have to inspire the next generation, too.”

“And make lots of money so our parents never have to worry again!” Ochako exclaimed, bouncing on her feet, never losing sight of her original motivation for heroics.

“And we’re going to do it….” Izuku continued, extending his fist toward her.

“Together!” she finished the pronouncement, bumping his fist into his with a flourish. They were friends, lovers, and most importantly, partners. They were Deku and Uravity, an unstoppable, unbreakable duo. They could both lapse in remembering that sometimes, but always found kind ways to remind one another.

“Now, I guess we should get back to unpacking,” Izuku suggested, before wiping the moisture from his brow. The intensity of the conversation, though fairly brief, was enough for him to work up an even heavier sweat. “I wish it hadn’t been quite so warm today.”

“I’d just rather cool down after all that,” Ochako grumbled, sticking her head out over the balcony again to absorb more of the breeze. She closed her eyes for a moment, focusing on the cool brush of the wind. They flew open suddenly, a wide smile lighting up her face, instantly capturing Izuku’s attention. “I have an idea.”

“Oh?” he perked up an eyebrow, listening intently. Her bursts of inspiration were always fascinating.

Without a word, she gently tapped herself in a practiced motion, before leaping over the edge of the balcony with ease thanks to her newfound weightlessness.

“Ochako?!” he cried out.

She responded with loud laughter, grasping to the railing from the other side and sticking the rest of her body outward, her hair blowing haplessly around her. “That’s way better! Come on Deku!”

She extended a hand out to him, her padded fingertips calling to him. A gateway to freedom and escape.

“I don’t know…” Izuku muttered, his eyes reflexively darting across the horizon - only lingering a moment to appreciate how brightly she shone. “What if someone sees us?”

“We’re on the top floor,” Ochako noted, staring up at the open path to the sky. “We’ll get high enough to avoid that. Come on, it’ll be fine. Just for a little while?”

It was difficult to resist her beckoning grin. He was reminded of how often she had pulled him forward, helping him break out of his social shell as one of his first true friends.

“Alright, you win.” Izuku grabbed her hand, letting her trigger her Quirk, delighting in the exuberance of her victorious cry. She pulled him over the ledge and kicked their weightless selves off, letting the rush of the wind surround them.

Izuku breathed a sigh of relief as the air brushed over his warm skin, instantly soothing it. The skyline below was even more beautiful as they began to rise higher, giving a better view of the sun starting to crest the horizon, bathing the cityscape in a pleasant orange glow.

“This is so much better.” Ochako giggled as she lifted the two of them towards the roof, giddy as the wind started to blow them about. As the breeze picked up, Izuku motioned for her to release him from weightlessness, triggering his own float Quirk to better stabilize them. His power was usually more draining than hers, but he wanted to be cautious and keep better control in the air.

But Ochako used it to her advantage, grabbing onto him tightly to anchor her weightless body, unabashed in pressing herself into him. She let out a shuddered breath, pushing her head onto his shoulder. Izuku responded in kind, holding her close, letting his eyes fall closed, content to float aimlessly. It felt wonderful to hold her.

Times like this were too rare. For just a moment, their worries about the world below faded away, and it was just them. Not Deku and Uravity. Izuku and Ochako. Two people in love.

Suddenly, he could feel her fingertips shove something deeply into his left ear, disrupting the tranquil moment. He opened his eyes quickly, startled by the intrusion. Her gaze was mirthful, a devious little grin plastered on her face. He noticed a long, white cord sticking between them, one end leading up into her right ear, the remainder plunging into the pocket of her jeans.

Then the music started.

The song was bubbly and up-tempo, some top pop number he had heard out on the streets patrolling a few times. Izuku blinked rapidly, his analytical mind short-circuiting as he struggled to put the pieces together.

“Dance with me?” Ochako asked, beaming up at him from beneath her eyelashes. She was irresistible.

He gulped, his heart beating fast, a powerful warmth overtaking his cheeks. In complete awe, he could only manage a question: “You planned this?”

“I thought it would be nice to do something memorable for the first night at our new home. Getting away from the heat was just an upside.” She spun herself around in the air in a show of flair, keeping within his arm’s reach. “And I realized we had never had much fun together in the sky like this.”

That was true enough. Floating was for travelling to scenes faster or getting an advantage over villains, not playtime. They had honed their Quirks to serve society; anything else was secondary.

But as the sun finally crested the horizon, bathing Ochako in a glorious, almost ethereal glow, Izuku realized he wanted this as much as she did.

Surprising his partner, he grabbed onto her hands, swinging her in close, enjoying the little squeak she let out at the movement.

“I’d love to,” he replied sincerely, placing a chaste kiss on her forehead. “Thank you. This was a great idea.”

She twisted herself around, pressing her back against his chest, pushing them towards the building.

“I’m glad. I really didn’t know how well my plan would work,” she whispered honestly in his ear, voice faint amidst the wind. “Just remember to watch your step this time.”

Izuku chuckled, smiling from ear-to-ear. “At least it won’t hurt if I step on your feet up here.”

“You better not anyway!”

The two moved together in the darkening sky, their bodies flowing with the freedom of flight. They improvised their dance, lacking any cohesion, but so long as they could be close to one another, neither of them cared. Their worries seemed so far away now, the weight on their hearts lifted.

As night fell and they became bathed in the star’s light, they came even closer, locking themselves in an embrace. They twirled slowly together, the music getting replaced by each other’s breaths and heartbeats. Izuku was sure the starlit city was beautiful, but he had eyes only for her.

On top of the world, the heavens shining down on them, Izuku and Ochako found peace.

They both knew: when they returned to the earth, they would overcome, so long as they were together.

——————————————————————–

AN: Written for the IzuOcha Temple Discord Server Summer Writing Contest. Prompt: Keep Your Cool. Thank you to the organizers for putting this on and motivating me to write.

This one went through quite a lot of changes; it was 6,800 words at one point before an overhaul. I may have more to add to this later.

Sorry it has been a while since my last fic! Writing blocks abound these days.

But I hope you enjoyed this one! ^_^ Please leave a like and/or reblog if you did!

#my hero academia #IzuOcha #fanfiction #one-shot #Izuku Midoriya #Ochako Uraraka #romance #shipping #angst #introspection #character study #fluff #so much fluff #enough fluff to reach the heavens #manga spoilers

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hopelessromanticspoonie · 4 years

Text

Helping Hands - Chapter 2

Series Masterlist here

Chapter Summary: Loki shows Haley a bit more of the world she hadn’t had the opportunity to discover. Tony and Bruce begin testing and a painful truth comes to light.

Chapter Warnings: Needles, Implications of neglect, light descriptions of injury

A/N: I was absolutely stunned by the response for the first chapter! It definitely motivated me to get this next bit out to you! Thank you again to @vodka-and-some-sass for Betaing for me!

“Um, FRIDAY?”

“Yes, Haley?”

It was odd to address a room like it was a person, even after Tony had explained in the simplest terms possible the AI that lived in every fiber of the tower that would be her new home. She hadn’t left her room yet, choosing to stare out of the tinted windows at the bustling city below. It was awe-inspiring, to know that so many people existed, going about their lives without any knowledge of the horrors behind her eyelids. Now the city sparkled with glowing lights darting around beneath her, chasing away the darkness from the overcast sky. Did anyone sleep?

Odder still was to be given a name for her own. A moniker not meant to harm her, insult her, or one based solely on the powers that were both a blessing and a curse. Maybe the introduction of a name could be a new start for her. Perhaps a chance to become more than just what she could do for others?

“There isn’t any food in here, and I’m starving. What do they do for food?” she asked, closing her hands over her almost concave stomach as it rumbled loudly as if seconding the meekly asked question.

“In the common area there is a communal kitchen used by all Avengers living on-site. During business hours, various restaurants and the cafeteria are operational for faculty, staff, and visitors on campus,” the pleasant female voice responded, sounding from somewhere over her head.

Haley ran a hand over her spiky short hair, staring at the door as if it would bite her. “And is it business hours?”

“Unfortunately not. But if you follow the map currently on your television screen, it can get you to the kitchen.”

It wasn’t like she had any money, anyway. Didn’t you need money to buy something from a business? Tony had said that whatever she wanted, all she needed was ask, but she doubted that extended to the entire tower. Glancing once at the screen that flickered to life against the wall, she committed it to memory before slipping her socked feet into a brand new pair of sneakers that Pepper had dropped off a few hours ago - along with enough clothing and toiletries to last her an eternity.

Using the hand scanner to leave her room, she hovered in the doorway of her temporary sanctuary, staring out at the shadowed black hallway. Soft light illuminated one end of it, trickling in from the same direction FRIDAY had indicated for the kitchen. She steeled her nerves and anxieties with a deep breath before slowly making her way in that direction, ears perked for any sound that would send her scurrying back to her room. Her body had known hunger before, and it could wait.

A high-pitched whistling sounded from the kitchen when she stepped into a large room which appeared to be solely for relaxing. Various couches and plush armchairs were scattered about in loose formations, some facing bookshelves stacked high with more books than she knew existed, others televisions bigger than her wildest imaginings. She froze, her heart leaping into her throat, large eyes darting to the source of the sound.

Soft footsteps sounded on the shining marble floor, interrupted by the clanking of dishware and a heavy sigh. Her stomach chose that moment to growl loudly at an enticing aroma that drifted her way through the air conditioning, and she cursed softly under her breath when the domestic sounds ceased for a split second.

“I will not harm you, little one.”

She was almost positive that voice belonged to Loki, the more outspoken of the group with the intelligent eyes. He hadn’t given her any reason to fear him - yet. Balling her hands up into fists at the shiver of anxiety that coursed down her spine, she stood up as tall as she could manage and followed the sounds and smells into the warmly lit kitchen.

Her assumption had been correct. Loki stood in the middle of the room, swirling a spoon in a steaming cup that clinked quietly with each minute movement. He had exchanged his daunting leather outfit for something much more comfortable. The black, soft-looking pajama bottoms hung low on his hips to reveal a sliver of pale skin just below his fitted white t-shirt. It was startling to see such a change in the intimidating man, who peered at her with a quirked brow.

“Anyone with ears would be able to hear your stomach complaining, and your cheekbones are so sunken it appears painful,” he commented, a hint of sadness lingering on his velvet voice. It wrapped around her, a caress to her frazzled nerves that lowered her hackles just a bit. “What do you like to eat?”

What did she like to eat? Any food she had been given was meager and tasteless, the scraps leftover from Mr. Shaw’s meals or unwanted food to be tossed to the dogs. Food wasn’t meant to be enjoyed, but for fueling her body, keeping her strong enough to heal her owner. Embarrassment flushed down her face and neck as her thoughts came up empty, and her hands twisted together unseen in the confines of her sweatshirt.

If he was bothered by her lack of an answer, he didn’t show it. She got the sense that he didn’t reveal much behind his finely sculpted features. Indifference suited the straight line of his nose and the press of his thin lips. It was… nice to watch the straight line of his back as he bustled about the kitchen, gathering various foods on a plate and pouring a second cup of his steaming beverage. He said nothing, merely tilted his head in her direction before setting the spoils on a vast table with enough seats to fit all of the faces she’d seen earlier on the Quinjet.

She sat at the seat in front of the food at the wave of his hand, shoving her hands beneath her thighs as she watched him take the seat opposite her. He pulled a book from thin air, and she gasped, shrinking back into the wooden chair as if it would swallow her whole. Had he…?

“My apologies,” he purred, the words a warm caress to the fear that had her heart thudding against her ribcage. “Simply a bit of magic, pulling my belongings to me should I need them. Eat.”

She hesitated, her hand hovering over the selection of brightly colored fruits and thick, buttered bread, waiting for him to take the plate from her and laugh at the gall she had to hope for fair treatment. He reached over and plucked a glistening green grape from the bunch on the plate, popping it into his mouth and chewing slowly before cracking open the book to peruse the pages.

Magic? He mentioned it so casually, as if it was an understood fact about him. But with how little she knew of the world, it could very well be so. She could take the injuries from others, and that certainly didn’t seem natural. Quickly, she picked several grapes and pushed them into her mouth, resisting the urge to moan at the delicious sweetness that exploded across her tongue. Before she knew it she had the plate held to her chest protectively and she couldn’t eat fast enough. Never had she been given such a veritable feast of such exquisite flavors.

Only when the plate was empty did she look up. Loki acted as if she hadn’t just devoured her meal like a wild animal, regarding his book with quiet curiosity lighting on the furrow of his brow. Her slightly shaking hands gripped her own impossibly delicate cup, warm to the touch from the fragrant beverage within, and she sipped it delicately, afraid of getting burned. The warmth flooded her body, reaching the tips of her toes and unfurling within her with a comfort she was wholly unused to from something as simple as a drink.

“Earl Grey,” he supplied, looking up at her briefly over his book. “The tea. You enjoy it.”

Enjoy. She never got to enjoy anything. But this tea - Earl Grey - and the filling fruit and bread he’d gathered for her, she’d thoroughly enjoyed that. She enjoyed the foreign feeling of fullness in her belly and the layered aroma wafting up from her cradled cup.

She could even see herself enjoying Loki’s presence, stoic and calm and wholly unbothered by her existence as he allowed her to sit in his shadow. He radiated a strength that she longed to glean for herself.

“I do.” She hummed quietly after taking another warming sip. “Thank you.”

“We just want to draw a bit of blood and give you a routine physical. There will be a needle for the blood bit, and then I’ll take your heartbeat with this,” Tony held up a device hanging around his neck, “and check your overall health by just taking a good look at your body. At the end, I’d like to hook up a few monitors and have you do a bit of healing, but only if you’re up for it. How’s that sound?”

Haley shifted uneasily on the cold metal table, casting a quick glance at Loki, who stood still as a statue against the far wall, watching Tony and Bruce with narrowed eyes. He had quietly inserted himself into her presence whenever she had left her room, and it felt right to trust the mysterious man. Loki gave her a quick nod before watching the two men in front of her again, his face lowered so that his long, raven hair framed his face and cast a shadow over the planes of his cheekbones.

“Okay.”

The two men were respectful as they worked around and on her, asking permission before Tony touched the cold metal disc to her chest or Bruce gently squeezed her leg with what looked to be a set of pliers. None of it hurt, and she didn’t even blink when Tony drew several vials of blood from a needle he slid into her arm. Were these men doctors? They didn’t look the part, with Tony’s perfectly styled hair and trimmed goatee, and Bruce’s threadbare button-up shirt that hung on his frame.

A monitor beeped out the drum of her anxious heartbeat for all to hear from sticky pads connected to her chest. Tony had also attached a few to her scalp, all while muttering to himself, “At least she doesn’t have a lot of hair to get in the way.” All of the eyes in the room settled on her, and it took everything she had not to curl up from the weight of their gazes on her bony shoulders.

Bruce stepped in front of her, rolling up his shirt sleeve to reveal a small, raised red line across his forearm. He offered her a smile that begged her to relax. “I burnt myself on the oven the other day. Should’ve known better than to try to cook,” he gave a self-deprecating laugh full to the brim with warmth. “Can you heal this?”

Of course she could. But burns were her least favorite to handle. They weren’t any harder for her to heal than any other injury, but the raw, itchy skin was her least favorite. Still, these men had offered their home to her, given her food and clothing and medicine and a place of her very own without demanding entrance to it. This small burn that hadn’t even blistered wouldn’t take long to dispatch at all. A small price to pay.

“I’m going to touch you. Okay?” she asked quietly, mimicking the permission that they had asked of her for the entire time she’d interacted with them. Everyone she interacted with had taken to asking her before doing anything, a luxury and kindness she wasn’t accustomed to. How long would that last after they saw the extent of her abilities? Just until one of them got injured beyond what they were willing to deal with. That was how it worked.

“Bruce.” Loki’s warning came from over her shoulder, thick with veiled threats that she wasn’t certain she wanted to know how he would uphold. Even as he had chipped away at the protective shielding around her heart, she still felt the danger that he posed, carried in his confident stride and unhurried movement. So averse to the showy bravado she was accustomed to, guns waved around and threats growled over hands clutching the collar of her shirt. He didn’t need that. His reputation was enough, it seemed.

Bruce nodded and offered her his arm. His breath quickened beneath his shirt when her thin fingers slanted over his skin, and his pulse practically matched her own ringing in her ears. It was all too easy to direct the rush of electricity beneath her skin through her fingertips in the golden glow she’d come to dread for the pain it promised. Sure enough, she bit her bottom lip between her teeth at the stinging sensation that scratched at her forearm where Bruce’s burn once was, hidden by the thick sleeves of her new favorite sweatshirt.

“Incredible,” Bruce breathed, rubbing his hand over the freshly healed skin as if it were some parlor trick. A common reaction when she first healed someone, before they got greedy and jaded to her powers.

Tony pulled out a pair of yellow-tinted glasses and leaned over a computer, typing away furiously as his eyes darted over all the data he could consume.

“Leave us,” Loki commanded, and the heat of him practically pulsed at her back.

“But, I, this is my lab!” Tony stammered, chest puffing out as he stood up and pulled his glasses off to glare at the man whose breath fanned over the top of her head.

“Come on, Tony, we can have FRIDAY send the data to the other lab.” Bruce dragged the other man out with a hand on his arm, closing the door behind them to leave a deafening silence in their wake.

Loki stalked around the metal table until the front of his thighs almost brushed her knees, staring down at her with too many emotions warring on his face to name. He moved slowly, his hand reaching out to encircle her wrist and seize the fabric tucked beneath her clenched fingers into her palm. His fingertips were calloused, rasping against her skin with the heat of his touch as he slowly pulled up the baggy sleeve despite her pulling away in protest.

“Don’t-”

He flipped her now bare arm over to reveal the burn that had etched itself into her skin, dragging his finger just beside it to make the shiny skin catch the light. “You do not heal them. You take their wounds for your own.”

There wasn’t any use denying it with the evidence grasped in his careful touch. “I do.”

A growl ripped from his throat, feral and animalistic and so terrifying that she pulled her knees up to her chest and held them with one arm wrapped around her shins. He released her from his hold, allowing her to cradle her arm to her body against the conflicting singing of her skin from his touch and painful burn she’d brought upon herself.

“Unacceptable.”

And then he stormed away, leaving her curled in on herself on the table, staring at the door with the intoxicating masculine musk of his cologne still teasing at her nose and the incessant beeping of the monitor betraying her conflicting emotions she couldn’t even begin to place.

~~~

Series taglist: @kneel-before-queen-loki @alexakeyloveloki @from-hel-i-with-love @cleocc @cateyes315 @coldbookworm @rjohnson1280

Little Bit o’ Loki taglist: @myownviperroom @grahoundart @darealbellabelleoftheball @boubouinscarlet @iamverity @rt8815 @lots-of-loki @otakumultimuseoc @ms-cellanies @rosierossette @thathedonistgirl

Whole Shebang taglist: @just-the-hiddles @yespolkadotkitty @nonsensicalobsessions @vodka-and-some-sass @he-is-chaotic-she-is-psychotic @myoxisbroken @blah666 @brokenthelovely @myworddump @polireader @wiczer @littleredstarfish @the-broken-angel-13 @arch-venus25 @xxloki81xx @jessiejunebug @tinchentitri @sllooney @devilbat @vikkleinpaul @bouquet-o-undercaffeinated-roses @angelus80 @wolfsmom1 @kthemarsian @toozmanykids @princerowanwhitethorngalathynius @sabine-leo @lovesmesomehiddles @peterman-spideyparker @wegingerangelica @bluefrenchfries604 @catsladen @silverswordthekilljoy

#loki fanfic #loki #loki x ofc #slow burn #angst #protective!loki #protective loki #helping hands #hopelesswrites

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basketballandtextbooks · 4 years

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Speaking of analyses, what's your interpretation of Kenny? (I feel like he's the one character that really doesn't get talked about in the same manner as other characters. Sure, he gets praised often for being a good boi and there's discussions/theories of his curse, his homelife, sex... But as far as him as a WHOLE, as a person, I don't tend to see that a lot. I think that's why his fanon interpretations feel like a disconnection: He's quiet, his hood being down doesn't mean he'll "talk more")

To even begin delving into all of the aspects of Kenny’s personality, we’ll first have to divide up subsections to how he behaves in certain circumstances, ascertain his motives for doing so, and then finally combine all of that information into a cohesive assessment of his thoughts, feelings, and agendas. And as a bonus, I’d like to discuss how these traits would most likely change and develop over time. All that said, I just really like his character so instead of doing all that fancy essay work, I’m just going to babble about him. We’ll start with what is both the most and least important aspect to Kenny; his relationship with death.

Death has haunted Kenny for his entire life so far as we, the viewers, are able to tell. The current in-series explanation for his ceaseless bouts of death involves his parents in a cthulhu cult before he was even born. The details here are vague, but the implication that leaves us with is that this is a lifelong affliction. Flashbacks as early as preschool support this theory as we’ve seen Kenny die in a firecracker accident back then. Kenny’s feelings towards death are made clear in several lines and yet more nonverbal cues. He’s scared of death. It’s painful and he hates it. Even knowing he’ll come back, or at least assuming he’ll come back, that doesn’t stop him from screaming, running, crying out, hiding, and outright declaring how painful and unpleasant he finds death. This at least tells us one thing about Kenny’s personality going forward that will be important to understanding further aspects: He hates pain. He’s had plenty of pain, pain beyond what a normal person could ever imagine, and he hates it. One conjecture we can make from this knowledge is he’s extremely unlikely to self-harm in a violent or painful way, such as cutting or punching himself. He has shown a brief interest in pain for sexual pleasure though, as seen with his stint of asphyxiation for masturbation. The attempt killed him but we never get a follow up on whether or not he found it enjoyable, therefore it can be read as either “Kenny enjoys pain for pleasure, specifically asphyxiation” or “Kenny tried pain for pleasure once and as it resulted in his death, he doesn’t want to do it again” or “Kenny will try anything sexual at least once”. Among these readings, the third is most likely the most accurate while the first two can be entirely up to the opinion of the interpreter. They have equal canonicity behind them.

His hatred of death and pain has led him to become bitter and angry towards the people around him on many occasions. For example, when Kyle was dying Kenny was incapable of feeling sympathy for Stan’s sadness over it when Stan was so consistently apathetic towards his own death. It’s clear that Kenny doesn’t want Kyle to die and cares about the well-being of all of his friends (sacrificing his life for them on many occasions) but it was particularly painful to listen to Stan talk about how sad he was that a friend of his was dying in the hospital. If we pay attention to the timeline, this happens before Kenny dies in the hospital and Stan refuses to visit him, which would solidify every feeling of resentment he felt when Stan was worried over Kyle. During that time, Stan had had no trouble visiting Kyle in the hospital so from Kenny’s perspective, Stan just didn’t care. Still, he clearly cares for Stan and his other friends which is why we hear the repeated “Where’s Stan?” that breaks our hearts every damn time. It’s worth noting that Kenny has a teddy bear in the hospital that is never seen before or since, it’s very likely a bear from the hospital gift shop given to him by one of his visitors. So either Chef, his parents, or Kyle bought him the bear. A personal favorite headcanon of mine is that Kevin stole the bear for him but there is absolutely no evidence to support that hypothesis. Logically the culprit is either Chef or Kyle, considering the McCormick’s money troubles, and it would be very in character of Sheila to insist he buy something for his friend at the gift shop. Another thing to note is that Kyle is the only one of his friends, aside from Cartman, who visits him in his hospital room. Butters sends a card and there are visible gifts that build over time. We know for a fact during the episode where Kyle was dying that the teacher would have the students make cards for a sick classmate, so the card and gifts are most likely a byproduct of that. It is worth noting that while Kenny was dying such a slow and painful death, Kyle was the only one who was able to stay at his side. Stan found it too painful to watch him die and Eric was off on his mission to ‘save’ Kenny. I believe this impacted the way Kenny viewed his friends in the future, distancing himself from Eric and opening up to Stan less and less. His relationship with Kyle remains dubious and the other kids in his class he keeps an emotional distance between.

One cannot address the issues of this episode without also delving into the issues regarding the length of his death and revival. It’s implicit in the show that Kenny has no idea how long he will be dead for, a few hours or a few years, and there is very little consistency in how he is revived. Most frequently he revives via a literal rebirth (one notable instance of this causing his mother to have a miscarriage), but he’s also had instances of reviving back into his own corpse or literally appearing out of thin air. This leads us to the explanation that he doesn’t know how long he’ll be dead, where he’ll go, or how he’ll revive. This loss of control in his life causes him to put a significant distance between himself and anyone he might care about, for fear that his condition would ruin any chances of maintaining the relationship.

This is especially apparent in his complicated relationship with Cartman (which we will address in more detail later). During his extended period of death, Cartman was the driving force in finding a ‘Kenny replacement’ and Kenny’s self-proclaimed BFF. Both Stan and Kyle joined these attempts cheerfully, but Cartman was the most determined. He tried with both Tweek and Butters, succeeding in finding a best friend in Butters and making Butters an on-again-off-again addition to the ‘main four’ while also maintaining a close (and complicated) friendship to Cartman. Butters was compared to Kenny on several occasions during this transition and showed both agitation and resentment over the comparison. Eventually putting Kenny up on a pedestal as someone ‘great’ because of all the times the guys assured him that “Kenny would do it if he were here”.

It’s worth noting that the two individuals within canon who clearly and canonically remember Kenny’s deaths are Cartman and Timmy. While an explanation for Timmy’s knowledge is still left up in the air, there are a few potential explanations for Cartman’s retained memories. One explanation that I normally prescribe to is that Cartman has Kenny’s eyes and by taking a body-part of Kenny’s, he can now see Kenny’s deaths. This explanation isn’t perfect, as Cartman showed signs of understanding Kenny’s condition prior to that episode, but its one potential explanation. Understanding his condition could have been a basis for the initial development of their friendship or it could have been a secret shared when they were still close that Eric was naïve enough to believe. Although, Eric’s understanding of Kenny’s condition could very easily be an explanation for his own apathy towards other people's deaths (like how he murdered Scott’s parents). Ever since he could remember, his best friend had died and come back, at the age of 8 or 9, how could he possibly have a complete understanding that Kenny’s case wasn’t normal. He could have very well expected Scott’s parents to return the next day the same way Kenny did. While it’s also possible he committed those murders knowing full well that their deaths were permanent, it is still hard to believe that he’d even be capable of taking death seriously after seeing Kenny die so many times.

Continuing further, Kenny’s fear of death does not make him cowardly, quite the contrary. Some stand out sacrifices that he made while scared would be during the meteor shower trilogy (he owed nothing to those people and still gave his life to protect them) and during the hunt for Eric’s parentage, sacrificing his life to save the hospital. He was scared both times and they were ultimately selfless acts. What makes them stand out even more though is how dependent his friends were on him during both instances. They had full and complete faith and trust that Kenny would save the day. Even without cognitively remembering Kenny’s condition, they still trust him with their lives and know he’s the sort of person who would save them.

It’s very likely that this is a reason that Kenny grew into a more and more protective person as the seasons go by, in a way this faith that he’d save them is some of the purest positive feedback he gets from his asshole friends. Whether intentional or not, there was a part of Kenny and his friends who viewed him as a protector above all else. These sorts of implicit expectations can really affect a person’s development. It is most likely due to a combo of this aforementioned expectation and Kenny’s growing cynicism about his own deaths, that he accepts the role so whole-heartedly.

Kenny has a strong association with drugs from early seasons, where rumors of him sniffing paint were prevalent and an instance of him snorting alien coke occurred. His hedonistic personality and inability to die seemingly leading him to believe that he was invincible. And therefore he doesn’t need to worry about the negative effects of recreational drug use. This all changed after the events of major boobage. It should be evidence alone that by the end of major boobage, all rumors about Kenny and drugs ended and he was never again referenced to indulge in recreational substances, especially considering their earlier prevalence, but the series goes even further to show us that he not only got clean, stayed clean, but has developed a dislike for recreational and addictive substances.

Kenny would never do recreational drugs of any kind as a teen or adult and he is unlikely to drink alcohol either. It is very likely he dislikes weed, meth, and beer in particular. Kenny exhibited addictive behavior during Major Boobage and he was addicted to cheesing. However at the end of Major Boobage, Kenny stated firmly that he did not want to be addicted, would quit immediately, and he decided firmly to avoid drugs henceforth. His entire character arc for the episode was learning that he did not like the recreational use of drugs. It’s interesting that the fans interpret this episode as proof he would do drugs considering the entire plot of the episode was about his character growth in that specific regard. It’s like watching an episode where Stan learns to accept his gay dog and saying he will always be homophobic and never change because he started the episode not accepting his gay dog. It’s boggling.

However it is worth noting that Kenny relapsed at the very end of the episode by 'getting high on life'. While this could be evidence that he’d ‘never’ get clean (again disregarding all other evidence to the contrary) but it actually shows something that is quite telling for his ability to stay sober. His friends were quick to help him and pull him back from it. This alludes to him continuing to have support from friends and family during recovery. Recovery is a hard and difficult thing that is nearly impossible without a support network. This is a shockingly optimistic moment when understood through the lens of how difficult it is to fight for sobriety.

However the evidence that Kenny has chosen to stay clean doesn’t stop there. Aside from all rumors about him sniffing paint and other implications dying down all together, we have an extremely telling scene with his parents in a later season. During the superhero trilogy Mysterion startles his parents while they are getting high (specifically on weed). His parents state, fearfully, that Mysterion has been threatening them to stay off drugs and attempt to hide the pot from him, knowing he wouldn’t approve. This is telling in a few ways but one that is significant is that Kenny hated his parents' use of drugs, including ‘harmless drugs’ such as marijuana so much that he would go as far as to threaten them. We very rarely see an outright aggressive or threatening Kenny and we almost never see him show any ill will towards his family. Kenny is shown over the course of the series to be very fond of his family. His hatred of recreational drug use would have to be quite intense for him to go as far as to threaten his parents. The implied subtext of this scene is that Kenny considered what they were doing to be an extremely bad thing. So bad that he would threaten people he loves enough to terrify them that badly. This shows that since the Major Boobage episode, Kenny's attitude towards drugs has definitely grown negative. Moreso, the threat of staying off drugs was paired with the threat to ‘treat their children better’, leaving the heavy implication that he views those two as linked.

Even further evidence provided for Kenny’s continued sobriety and dislike of recreational abuse of addictive substances. During The Poor Kid, when Kenny was out of options with his foster family, he resorted to providing them with alcohol. Showing that he firmly believes that the best way to destroy people is to give them addictive products like alcohol. Further evidence that he feels negatively towards the drugs and alcohol. It’s played off as a joke in the episode but it’s clear that Kenny has strongly associated alcohol with destroying people.

Despite drugs and alcohol playing a major role in several plot lines that follow, Kenny is never shown to have an interest in them. As stated above, in early seasons he’d happily snort alien coke and now he never so much as approaches drugs positively. It’s extremely indicative that this change and interest in sobriety is long-lasting.

Finally we also see Kenny joining Stan's band that he created out of frustration with his situation on Tegridy Farms. Stan has grown to hate weed and what it represents and it is currently causing his family life to be much worse than usual. Kenny, as shown in episodes like The Scoots, loves his friends a lot Stan included. Watching his friend in so much pain can only cause him to view the substance as even worse. It is very likely that while they were working on the band and practicing he heard Stan's complaints as well. Kenny is actively watching as marijuana tears the Marsh family apart. He also watched Stan’s struggles with alcoholism and Stan’s fathers struggles with addiction as yet further examples of how these substances can destroy lives.

During TFBW game, there is a drug subplot that Mysterion actively works to put a stop to. Again, never once part-taking in drugs and actively fighting against their spread in his city. It doesn’t get any more blatant that that. Kenny is far more likely to join the DEA than he is to get high behind the gym. Kenny would never indulge in recreational drug use, specifically meth, weed, and beer, because of his experience watching them ruin families and strain friendships. As well as his own experience with drugs when he decided that he did not want to live that kind of lifestyle.

There’s a bit more evidence that delves into the realm of headcanon, but it is a logical extension of deductive reasoning based on the canon content we are provided with so I will include it as well. We know that Kenny and Satan developed a friendly relationship during Bigger, Longer, and Uncut. We also saw Satan give Stan a very simplified and child friendly lecture on addiction, as though he’d given the same lecture before. While there is no evidence of this, it isn’t a stretch to imagine the person he’d previously helped through their addictive tendencies was Kenny.

To be clear, this isn’t an anti-drug PSA. I don’t care what characters do or don’t do drugs, this is merely establishing that for Kenny specifically with the character arc he’s had, it is very unlikely and borderline insulting to his struggles for sobriety. However Kenny’s connections to drugs also open up some interesting relationship details as well.

During the major boobage episode in particular all of his friends join forces to get Kenny clean, Kyle in particular spear-heading the effort. Stan was there and Butters was there but neither showed as much passion or commitment for assisting Kenny’s progress to sobriety as Kyle did. Even putting his own neck on the line by hiding a cat in his room (with Sheila Broflovski as a mother, is he suicidal?). It’s yet another case, like with the Kenny Dies episode, where all his friends offer very passive support and Kyle offers a very aggressive and consistent support. It’s shown a pattern thus far of Kyle feeling in some way responsible for Kenny’s wellbeing. Which could be explained by a few things, Kyle’s obsessive and passionate personality or perhaps he feels subconsciously guilty for all the times he’s left Kenny for dead. Really we have no way of knowing why he’s doing this but we do know he’s starting to develop a pattern of protectiveness towards Kenny. What’s even more interesting is during both instances Kenny is too far gone to notice. During Kenny Dies he’s frequently asking for Stan and during this episode he’s angry and belligerent that Kyle is taking away his high. Making both tasks thankless endeavors on Kyle’s part (which is also a little unusual because Kyle loves to be praised for his hard work). Kenny’s relationship with Eric is at a low during this episode, Eric caring more about cats than his old BFF and Kenny now knowing that Eric won’t even make an emotionally dishonest attempt to be there for him. I would be interested to see how Kenny in specific felt about Eric facilitating the drug trade during TFBW considering his sobriety and the fact that Eric was never there for him through it. Butters and Stan just don’t stand out as particularly good or bad friends during this episode, they’re just sort of there and listening to Kyle’s instructions.

However, it’s worth noting that when there were rumors about Kenny getting high in early seasons, Eric was a mentioned accomplice, which makes it even more interesting to think about how Kenny’s sobriety might have solidified the growing rift between the two. Perhaps they used to be the kind of friends who got high behind the gym together and now Kenny won’t and Eric thinks he’s a pussy with sand in his vagina. It’s just an interesting nugget of characterization to explore. How specifically did Kenny’s sobriety impact his relationship with Eric? It’s an engaging question I wish more fans would ask because I would love to see the potential answers and hypotheses’. It’s also worth noting that after Stan’s own struggles with sobriety and addiction in later seasons, it’s possible that Kenny could have become Stan’s sponsor or perhaps that the two of them connect over this unique struggle in their lives that their other friends wouldn’t have as complete an understanding of.

There’s a lot and a little to be said about Kenny and his relationship to his siblings. The clearest picture we get of his relationships with them is his obsessive protectiveness of Karen, even going so far as to deny her own wants and needs (as seen in the TFBW dlc) in order to protect her from all perceived danger. Even if the danger is as mundane as ‘being lame’. But to get a better idea of his relationship with his siblings, I’d like to start from the beginning.

Namely, before Karen even existed within the narrative. In the early seasons with Kevin and Kenny as the only two McCormick children, we see a passive and friendly relationship (a stark contrast to the Marsh family siblings). Kevin does nothing aggressive towards his brother and he is seen peacefully playing with Kenny as well. While this does not make it impossible that Kevin isn’t a friendly sibling, from the context we see him in for the early seasons, there’s no reason to assume he isn’t a kind older brother to Kenny.

Which brings us to the impossibility of Karen’s birth. As stated above, Kenny revives most frequently through rebirth and he dies far too frequently to allow Carol a successful pregnancy. And we know that, to Kenny’s knowledge, he was the youngest McCormick child during the episode that confirmed he gives his mother miscarriages. He tried to give her a miscarriage before doing so on accident, hating the idea of having a younger sibling more than anything.

This is something that also lends to the idea that Kevin is a kind older sibling and that he is fond of his parents, regardless of their flaws. It’s explicit within the episode that Kenny doesn’t want a younger sibling because he doesn’t want to share that love. He wants Kevin to spoil him and his parents to spoil him and he doesn’t want to lose that to someone younger and cuter. Perhaps his attachment to being spoiled could be because he’s so relied upon by his friends as a protector that he is loath to lose the one type relationship he has in his life that places him as someone to be protected rather than doing the protecting. This is conjecture, but it would make sense with the characterization we’ve seen thus far.

But how did Karen come into being? The ongoing theory in fanon is that she was born during the year Kenny was dead and his friends replaced him but going through the aging timeline, it’s unlikely he was dead a full year (more likely only a few months) and even if the timeline matched up, Karen is six years old when she is first introduced, only 3 years younger than Kenny. Which means she had to have been born long before this incident. Another ongoing theory is that she’s adopted or a foster child, but those are relatively unlikely as well. The McCormick household has a fucking meth lab in the back yard. There is no adoption agency that is going to give them a child. And this theory ignores her clear resemblance to both Kevin and Stuart.

This is why I believe the most likely source of Karen is through a third party and Stuart. There are no adoption hoops to jump through if Stuart is her biological father and it explains the familial resemblance. It’s not difficult to believe Carol would accept her as her own due to how desperately she wanted another child.

As for how Karen was conceived, that’s up for interpretation. She could have been a product of infidelity or a case of someone else carrying her for the McCormick’s as Carol is effectively baron. I will say that Stuart’s infidelity is more likely purely because of the age. If they’d asked someone to carry Karen to term for them, Karen should have started living with them when Kenny was three and yet, she doesn’t join the family until the age of six. There could be a myriad of reasons for this that can be left entirely up to the interpretation of the viewer but the only logical way for Karen to exist as she does is that she is Kenny’s half sister.

When Karen showed up, Kenny clearly grew immediately attached and began to mature quickly. Taking part in less shenanigans, taking responsibility for her well-being, protecting her from bullies, playing with her in his free time. Kenny didn’t want to be an older brother but when push came to shove, he accepted the responsibility whole-heartedly and fully embraced his younger sister. Even more meaningfully, he didn’t care about whether or not she was fully blood related and treated her as a sister just the same. It’s possible one of the reasons he didn’t see any need for blood to create familial ties is growing up with Kyle and Ike nearby and knowing that it wasn’t blood that made them brothers. It’s also possible that he just has too much integrity to treat her as anything less than his baby sister.

One thing that should be noted about children Kenny’s age is modeling. Children, especially under the age of ten, are extremely susceptible to the behavior modeled for them. For example, children who have older siblings who mistreat them are far more likely to mistreat their own younger siblings. It’s a monkey-see, monkey-do time of life. Therefore I would like to present with this as my evidence that Kevin was just as kind and protective as Kenny is to Karen. He’s at an age where he models what he sees around him, treats others how he is treated. The other sibling relationships he’s close to is Kyle and Ike, which while loving took awhile and is significantly less overtly affectionate at times, and of course the Marsh siblings who have an overtly negative relationship until very recently in canon.

Meaning it’s possible he modeled how to treat a younger sibling after how Kyle treats Ike but it’s difficult to imagine him playing kick the baby with Karen. It’s more likely that he grew up with a protective older brother who spoiled him and he is now passing down the behavior that he received.

In short the McCormick siblings have a complicated but interesting relationship. There’s a lot to be said about how while Kenny was being conceived (with Stuart and Carol constantly getting high at a cult and subsequently arrested) that Kevin was only three years old and he wouldn’t have been able to fend for himself at this time. He might have attached onto Kenny so strongly out of loneliness over the severe neglect his parents subjected him to.

It’s worth mentioning that one place Kenny remains determined to indulge is with his hobbies, specifically with magic the gathering, his psp, and nascar. Kenny has for the majority of his characterization been defined by his hedonism. Doing what felt good, when it felt good. It’s why he has such a striking and intriguing character arc over the course of the series. Going from a pure hearted and selfless hedonist (an interesting combo in itself) into a more mature and more reserved individual who denies himself those simple easy pleasures (such as drugs).

But he still has a desire for escapism and so he pursues his hobbies with a passion and protective zeal that can be alarmingly violent. He doesn’t just love his hobbies and desire to indulge in them, but he also wants them to be respected and he despises a mockery being made of them. He doesn’t just enjoy them, he becomes masters at them. He pours all of his passion into being an amazing Magic player, into achieving the highest score in his favorite game, into murdering the one who mocked Nascar.

Wait, that last one doesn’t quite belong. We’re going to put a pin in that one for further exploration in the Cartman section, but it’s worth mentioning that his passion for that sport is so intense that he would be willing to commit murder. While the characters in South Park are outright murderous by nature, Kenny is one of the least homicidal in town (it’s a relative term) and as such, his turn to homicidal rage in defense of his hobby is notable.

He knows Cartman, he knows this is probably a phase and Cartman will get over it, if it was any other circumstance he’d probably be laughing his ass off at home that Cartman was making an idiot of himself on live TV and driving a vagisil car while eating the cream. It’s objectively hilarious and something that Kenny would normally have laughed at and moved on. He’s shown discomfort with Cartman’s escapades before but he’s never taken it so personally. Even when it was a direct attack against Kenny.

There is a part of Kenny that just can’t tolerate his hobbies being so openly mocked and made a sham of. Even during cock magic, he felt deeply uncomfortable with the spectacle the game he loved was turning into, doing everything he could in his limited capacity to continue to treat it seriously and play with integrity. Kenny loves his hobbies with a passion that we don’t see from him for much else.

One potential explanation for this is the emotional distance he has with other people that I alluded to before. He has a lot of love to give and a passionate personality but he dies. All the time. No one remembers, those that do only use his death for their own gain, and while he’s dead even his closest and dearest friends will attempt to replace him or actively resent him. People can replace him. People can betray him.

Playing cards? They have no autonomy. They can’t change after his death; they just wait for him in his room until his revival. Nascar? Sure, he might miss a few races but he can always catch up or just watch new content. Kenny has found an outlet for all the love that bubbles up inside of him that doesn’t rely on people who he’s learned to mistrust.

There is also something to be said about his addictive personality and it’s very possible that he uses his hobbies as a replacement for drugs. Indulging in healthier hobbies in an attempt to replace the ones he now views so negatively. A strong support of this theory is that before Kenny’s sobriety he was less passionate about hobbies and after his sobriety, he is clearly and consistently more obsessive about his hobbies. (further evidence of his continued sobriety, fucking fight me fanon. don’t even tell me you do it for the angst, a struggle for sobriety is way more angsty than a momentary high. ya’ll just want him to do drugs/alcohol because you do and you kin him.)

Kenny’s love for his hobbies is quickly becoming a defining trait but also it’s worth noting that his hobbies are social in nature. He didn’t pick up drawing or writing or origami, things he’s shown an interest for in early seasons, he picked up Magic and Gaming and Nascar, all three when indulged as hobbies are inherently social. You watch Nascar with people, you play Magic with people, especially in this day and age, you play videogames with people.

Even though he’s given up on connecting with people on a deeper level and puts a distance between himself and others, he still pursues hobbies that connect him to them. This indicates that he could still be trying to reach out to others and wants a deeper connection. But on his own terms. He doesn’t select hobbies that the others are already into to attract them to him, he’s pursuing hobbies he likes. Stubborn and selective boy. I haven’t listed all of his talents, skills, and hobbies here, mind you, just the ones relevant to my points (meaning I left out details about his passion for singing because that appears to be a natural talent and sports because he enjoys them but shows no real passion for them)

I’ve probably put off talking about his friendships for too long at this point but a part of me wanted to save this for last, as so much of what there is to say about his friendships with others is indicated in other segments. But the as this is an entirely unstructured attempt at explaining my thoughts and headcanons about Kenny McCormick, I don’t believe it matters the order I go in so here is an overview of his relationships with a few key individuals in his life.

We’re going to start with Kelly. Not because she’s the most influential or most important, but because her impact on his personality is striking in a way that I have to wonder why more people don’t address it. Prior to meeting Kelly he didn’t have as much resentment towards his friends over his condition and after meeting her, for reasons that will become obvious soon, the seeds of pain grow into something larger.

For those of you who are largely unfamiliar with her, she is Kenny’s first girlfriend. She developed an immediate attraction towards him and began to pursue him with a hesitant intensity. Kenny, as he does with most people who approach him so passionately, treats this with confusion and hesitance. She’s hyper logical, goes at her own pace, and treats the fact that Kenny would like her as a matter of course.

Her pursuit of Kenny isn’t what’s most notable but it is worth noting how he responds to someone pursuing him. It’s the confusion that strikes me the most, he’s not used to being treated like something special, and he doesn’t know how to reply. It’s a far cry from the smooth talking flirty Kenny of fanon. Kenny is far more likely to respond with hesitant interest, confusion, and eventual flustered flattery to a romantic pursuit based on how we’ve seen him respond in canon. This isn’t to say he couldn’t develop a more flirtatious personality with age, but it’s worth noting that within canon we don’t see a hint of that as of yet.

The impact that Kelly truly makes on Kenny’s personality isn’t a romantic one though. Although it is my belief that he will grow to view it and gestures like it as romantic ones in the future, but that’s a headcanon digression. Her contribution to his development is simple:

She saves his life.

While no one else would, no one else tried, no one else thought it was possible. It’s very likely that his friends all have a sense of subconscious learned helplessness in regards to Kenny’s death and therefore don’t fight it because, to them, it’s an inevitability and Kelly was only able to do this because she was not previously exposed to the multitude of Kenny deaths.

But the fact is that a person claimed to care about him, wanted to date him, and then when the worst thing about his life was going to happen again, she saved him. In this moment Kenny associated on some level caring about him to saving him. The fact that Kelly saved him meant she cared and by extension, the fact that no one else saves him or even holds him in his dying moments, means that they do not care about him.

Let’s return to that moment of lost empathy and sympathy when Stan was grieving Kyle’s illness. Perhaps on some level he’d just grown to understand that Stan wasn’t the sort to try helping his friends when they’re in mortal peril, made an exception that it’s not that Stan didn’t care, it’s just that Stan wasn’t the type to try saving another person’s life. Or grieve. Sure, it frames Stan as an awful person but to Kenny, Stan being an inherently cruel person was far less painful than the horrible knowledge that Stan did care. He just didn’t care about Kenny. In this moment he’s able to see the moment that Kelly saved him, because she cared about him, and all the moments that neither Stan nor his other friends even tried to save him. To add insult to injury, he dies right then and there and Stan still doesn’t care.

He’s left with the horrible implication that his worst fears about his friends are right. It’s not that they don’t remember because they can’t, it’s that they just don’t give a fuck about him. It’s terrifying, worse than even the prospect of a friend dying.

Which is another matter, as Kenny is semi-frequent in the underworld(s), it’s difficult for him to fully empathize with the idea of Kyle dying. Normally the terror of a loved one dying is that you’ll never see them again, but for Kenny it’s likely he’d still see Kyle every Tuesday. While he words to protect his friends and clearly loves his friends, when they’re lives are in peril like this, it’s sometimes difficult for him to empathize. He doesn’t want them to die but there’s a bitter part of him that’s unable to grieve if they do.

Kelly’s selfless and kind act, one that showed Kenny a moment of what it was like to feel loved, left such a terrible lasting impact that we can see seasons and seasons later. "ALL THE TIME! I die all the time! And you assholes NEVER remember!! Remember! Try and fucking remember!"

Now this can’t be entirely attributed to Kelly, obviously, but I think she’s an important contributing factor to his descent into bitterness that is entirely under-explored. And I also find the way he continues to pursue the relationship with her after she’s left back to her home state to be really telling about how loyal he is within a relationship. Even with his own financial and logistical issues in dating a person who lives so far away, he does his best to visit her whenever he can. She clearly meant a lot to him and it will forever taunt me that we never got an onscreen breakup. It’s also notable that he shows the same level of respectful loyalty to Tammy while dating her. This showcases a clear pattern of treating his significant others with kindness, patience, loyalty, and respect.

Now that I’ve spent ages talking about a girl most fans don’t even remember existed, let’s start in on Stan. Stan seems to hold a special importance to Kenny, it’s difficult to say exactly why (but I’m sure if I dig more I can find out) but moreso than Eric, Kyle, or Butters, Kenny seeks out Stan’s approval in one way or another. It’s very subtle, sort of a ‘blink and miss it’ thing but it can be blatant. The aforementioned moments regarding Kyle’s hospitalization and his own hospitalization. In more subtle moments, we can see Kenny gravitate towards Stan while Kyle and Cartman have their tiffs.

One possible explanation for his attachment to Stan is his horrified “oh my god, they killed Kenny!” frequently by the time Kyle has joined in with “you bastards!”, Kenny is already too dead to hear it. So it’s possible that he puts a lot of weight on their friendship because he views Stan as one of the few people who react to his death at all.

(I can’t help but wonder how gleeful Kenny must have felt that Stan chose his side during the Black Friday trilogy)

Regardless of the reason, Stan appears to be the one among them that Kenny has distanced himself the most from. He’s shown to be very compassionate in most situations but in later seasons when Stan is struggling, Kenny is frequently distant or unresponsive towards it. This seems to be mending in the most recent seasons, with episodes where it shows that they’re fond of one another but even then, there’s an undeniable rift. Despite being Stan’s friend for longer and what most would consider closer to him, during the band episode Stan interacted more with Butters and Jimmy than he did Kenny.

This is also possibly explained by Kenny’s under-explored shyness (something I don’t know if I’ll even get the chance to dig into because I’ve already been going on for so long and I’m barely through half of the things I want to talk about). But I believe that Kenny has put some emotional distance between himself and Stan due to the moments that led him to believe that Stan does not ‘care’. One example of this is during the Cthulhu trilogy, when he explodes in response to his friends questioning, he gets upset with Stan’s reactions but only explodes to Kyle’s, despite their questions being equally ‘offensive’. Perhaps he’s put up more emotional walls with Stan and he’s more prepared for him to be insensitive than he is with Kyle.

Kyle is a complicated relationship to define. On one hand they’ve both had moments of cool apathy towards one another (Kyle during ookie-mouth and Kenny during Cherokee Hair Tampons), although both of those situations are easily understood under the lens of the other stressors. Kyle claimed to “not care about Kenny” but it was only in response to being asked to spit in one another’s mouths. Kyle is a canonical germaphobe (in weirdly most regards other than poop, which he is strangely very comfortable with) and being asked to let someone else spit in your mouth would be trying even if you had no issue with germs. As for Kenny’s moment, as explained above, he was far more concerned with the implications of what it meant for his friendship with Stan at that moment. And not entirely unreasonably.

Kyle’s strange because despite not being Kenny’s closest friend by any stretch of the imagination, he’s been there for Kenny during most of his pivotal character moments in one capacity or another. In a way, Kyle is the one constant in his life. He holds Kenny as he dies in Wing, he stays by his side in Kenny Dies, he fights for his sobriety in Major Boobage, he invites him to become a Jew Scout in Jewbilee, helping him out in The Coon, there are weirdly numerous examples of their friendship and yet there is no explicit focus on it. It’s also worth noting that among all his friends, Kyle was the one Kenny chose to view the meteor shower with and this was during a time where he was still objectively closest to Cartman. And the same can be said for the Coon episode, Kyle was the one Kenny went to for help.

It’s difficult to define their relationship because while they have a strong pattern of a deep and supportive friendship, they also never even attempt to be one another’s ‘favorite’. Although Kyle does seem to be the most protective of Kenny among the main boys (this is of course only a relative, the bar is really low). For example, despite all the boys having lice in Licecapades, Kyle was the only one who came forward to save Kenny from the sock bath. It would take a whole other essay to fully dissect how their relationship works but to simplify it, it appears that they rely on one another.

During Jewbilee, Kyle has complete baseless faith that Kenny will save them. There’s no reason for this other than he just knows that Kenny will. Moses is captured, an all powerful figure, and Kyle still thinks his parka wearing little friend has got this covered. Conversely Kenny comes to Kyle when he needs help, like with Mysterion’s “You’re the smartest kid I know”. It’s just interesting how much they rely on one another and never make a big deal of it. Their friendship is based on an understated mutual trust.

Cartman on the other hand takes any and all trust, and throws it in the bin. If Kyle requires an essay to explain, Kenny’s relationship with Cartman needs a dissertation. That said, I’ll make an attempt to keep this short and to the point. Eric and Kenny do seem to at one point have shared a mutually beneficial friendship, with both of them liking Kyle and Stan more than they liked one another but still clinging to one another in a strange and desperate loneliness. One of the ways they bonded over the course of their friendship was a similar sense of humor. They both enjoyed crude and childish jokes more than either Kyle or Stan did and therefore they were able to indulge in them with one another. The trouble was that Eric had a malicious edge to his humor and Kenny did not. Eric was willing to take things farther than Kenny ever was, potentially purely to prove to the world that he would. A perfect microcosm of why this aspect of their friendship fell apart is found in How To Eat With Your Butt. They both found the ‘butt’ school picture to be hilarious in the beginning but when real people were looking for their son, Kenny dropped the joke immediately but Eric pushed further. These sorts of moments increased in frequency, leading Kenny to pity Eric above all else and Eric to both love and despise Kenny in equal measure.

Eric was still the person Kenny reached out to more than most people, like during Bigger, Longer, and Uncut, but the strain on their friendship began to show more and more and then… Kenny died. Eric knows about Kenny’s deaths, possibly the entire reason he spent all his time trying to make a clone Shakey’s rather than actually saving Kenny’s life. But more time passed between this death than any other and Eric, who has abandonment issues but that’s a whole can of beans to explain, decided he needed to replace Kenny. The trouble was his first attempt, Butters, wasn’t the same. Neither was his second attempt in Tweek. And while Butters did eventually replace Kenny as Cartman’s ‘best friend’, it still wasn’t the same. Eric had lost that friendship for good and still longing for a taste of it, he’ll often still seek out Kenny’s opinion on things. Kenny meanwhile came back to life (we’re going to skip over the sharing a body possession arc, not because it isn’t relevant but because it’s just WAY too much to cover in a short span of time) and found that his best and worst friend had replaced him. In some ways it was a relief, being Cartman’s number 1 friend (especially when Cartman clearly wanted Stan and Kyle’s approval more) was never a great role. But at the same time, being replaced is never a pleasant feeling and it really bloomed that horrible terror that had begun to grow with Kelly and Stan. His friends don’t actually love him, he’s replaceable, they don’t need him. He begins to close off more and more through this and starts to focus his attention on spiting Cartman in small ways (like as Mysterion). He can’t help but be a little resentful and a little uncomfortable.

This discomfort can also explain a lot of why Kenny appears so uncomfortable around Butters during Going Native, not wanting to be called Butters’ best friend and not wanting to go on the trip with him to begin with. Overall Kenny seems to veer from apathetic to Butters to uncomfortable with him. There’s no single scene in the show where he actually seems to show any affection towards Butters. He was forced to go on the trip during Going Native, he had to listen to Butters call Nascar ‘stupid’ endlessly with Cartman, and he just… doesn’t spend time with Butters. They’re seen in the background together, but so are Clyde and Kenny or Annie and Kenny. This isn’t to say Butters has had no impact on his life, but even when he’s on a trip to Hawaii with Butters, he spends his free time writing letters back to his friends or hanging out at a bar alone instead of spending it with Butters. Butters does seem to hold a certain level of affection for Kenny though, whether this is due to Cartman’s influence (the constant comparisons that put Kenny one pedestal as the ‘best’ kind of friend) or due to an actual affection for Kenny, that’s up for debate. I lean towards the former because it’s more consistent with Butters’ overall characterization and it also gives the progression of their relationship a… progression. In the latter interpretation Butters’ fondness for Kenny seems to spring from nowhere within the scenes we’re provided with. In the former, Butters’ fondness is based on his own insecurities and the significant trauma that Kyle, Stan, and Cartman put him through. There really isn’t anything worth dissecting with the Fun Times With Weapons incident, Kenny doesn’t appear to be particularly apologetic nor does he do anything to protect Butters from the hell that follows. Strangely Stan seems to be the most obsessed with getting Butters’ help, although in the most misguided ways possible. Furthermore, during the Cthulhu trilogy Butters is imprisoned and forced to eat his own poop to survive throughout the entirety of it and Kenny just… didn’t care at all. The initial imprisonment was clearly Cartman’s doing but even after Cartman was kicked out and Kenny assumed leadership, he made no effort to free or protect Butters. Whether this was out of resentment or apathy is left up to interpretation. Put plainly, Butters and Kenny do have a strange connection although that connecting piece appears to just be Cartman and without Eric, that bond is nearly nonexistent. (istg if i get another message calling me a bunny hater… guys, im not being mean or an anti, this isn’t about ships, this is about talking about how kenny actually feels and behaves towards other characters within canon. and no, kenny did not invite him to game night. it was very clearly a joke that no one invited him… that said, if someone did invite him, it’s more likely to have been kyle who invited him due to kyle’s response when butters first entered the house)

Kenny also has some interesting relationships with the secondary cast that is worth mentioning (Craig, Timmy, and Bradley in particular) but I’m not sure how long I’ve been typing for so we’ll put a pin in that.

Fuck, I had a lot more bulletpoints I wanted to get to in order to expand fully on his character and I haven’t even gotten to the ‘conclusions’ section but my fingers fucking hurt. Here are the bullet points I didn’t get to, if you’re really curious feel free to ask for more details on any of them:

Anger issues

Mischief

Wisdom and foolishness

Growth

Prostitution

Sex

Parents

Work

Protective

Shyness / Quiet / timidity

Loyalty

Resentment

Hedonism

Pride and poverty

#Anonymous #meta #this is why people shouldn't ask about my favorite characters or ships #i have lots to say #too much to say #ugh i probably should have waited until the end to address the butters thing #writing it just reminded me of the shit anons #and then i just lost my steam #sad caws

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rainythefox · 4 years

Text

Nightfall (CH.12)

Synopsis: Pre-Resident Evil 1, slight-AU/Canon Divergence. Claire Redfield comes home to visit her brother Chris for the holidays but gets caught up in a dangerous game of cat and mouse with Albert Wesker, the Captain of STARS, after stumbling upon dark secrets. She can’t call the law; Wesker is the law, and she can’t tell Chris. She is trapped…Claire/Wesker & Slight Chris/Jill. Rated M for eventual smut, language, violence, adult content.

AO3 Link

Chapter 12: Complicit

Claire couldn’t believe this was happening. After two days of “late night babysitting” preparing for this…mission, she was about to actually undergo it. She was kinda freaking out deep down, but her Redfield nerve and composure never broke a sweat on the outside.

She lingered, eyes firmly set on the double glass doors and the welcoming signs, faint traces of snow dancing around her. Would she be able to do this?

“Losing your nerve already? Pity. Thought you redheads had more spunk than this...”

Wesker’s velvety voice crept through the tiny headphone hidden in her right ear. It wasn’t the only thing he attached to her. There was a video camera, the smallest and most advanced she had ever seen, and some kind of tracker, like he needed another way to keep her under his thumb. All to “help” her during this important task at hand that he so generously gave to her. And by generously, there were implications if she didn’t go through with this, that Chris would have a bad “accident”.

“The only nerve I’m about to lose is my last one with you,” she muttered, careful to not talk too loud as a few people slipped by her to enter the building, eager to get out of the dark evening's cold. “I’m ready when you are.”

Wesker’s low laugh through the earpiece made her shiver more than the icy wind blowing the snowflakes around. “I’m always ready, Claire. You should know that by now.”

“Whatever.” Ignoring the dark implications behind his words.

“I have the utmost faith in you, my dear. Do not disappoint me. You know the consequences.”

The younger Redfield took a deep breath. This was it. She would do this…she had to, for Chris.

She headed up the concrete steps and entered Raccoon University, bypassing the positive and welcoming signs advertising “Exclusive Open House for Umbrella’s Future Leaders!”

Claire immediately took notice of all the college students her age and even some older people here. The large, fancy lobby was decorated up for the occasion. There were balloons, finger foods and drinks, more signs and several tables for information on Umbrella programs, internships, scholarships, and grants. Distracted by all the dress up and people, Claire paused to get her bearings, only for someone to bump into her.

“Oh…sorry,” a girl around her age mumbled, wearing a green jacket and looking of Japanese descent. She smiled apologetically and readjusted her backpack strap. Claire noticed right away she seemed a little spacey, but didn’t think much on it.

“All good,” she replied and allowed the girl to pass. Claire watched her walk over to the corner by some of the many leather lounge chairs and tables, sitting with a girl in a yellow hoodie with a long braid and glasses.

“Hello everyone, and welcome to Umbrella’s Open House!” The voice immediately drew Claire’s attention and she turned towards the front desk of the lobby, where three men stood in suits. She immediately recognized them from the research and planning she had gone through for the past two days in order to do this assignment. The man speaking was Greg Mueller, a professor here at the university that also worked for Umbrella. On his right stood another professor and Umbrella researcher, Simon Lowery. The man on the left was well-known Umbrella researcher and medical doctor, Nathanial Bard.

“We hope you are enjoying the delicious food and beverages catered to us by our local favorite restaurant, Grill 13,” Mueller continued. “And of course, staying warm from good ‘ol RC snow. Now, before we begin with tonight’s exciting tour of our historical university, introductions are in order! I’m Dr. Greg Mueller, head of the Research and Lab department of the University and I teach several courses. With me is my colleague and good friend, Dr. Simon Lowery. He’s essential to my team here and makes sure that everything runs smoothly and you have him to thank for some amazing programs to help you on your journey to a brighter future here. Last, but certainly not least, our special guest tonight is the revered Dr. Nathanial Bard of Spencer Memorial Hospital, whose achievements are nothing short of ground-breaking, and he will help you get started on which of Umbrella’s programs will serve you best. I’m going to hand the mic to Simon now.”

Lowery looked to be the younger of the three and wasn’t shy when he took the mic from his colleague. “Thanks Greg. Hello everyone! You know, this is the third year Greg and I have helmed this open house in search of bright pupils with a future at Umbrella Corporation. We have fun every year, and it’s always great meeting every single one of you. Now take your time, visit, mingle, get to know each other, make yourself at home and help yourselves to all this delicious food - I personally recommend the smoked sausages, they’re my favorite! - and please check out each booth we have set up for more information on what programs Umbrella has to offer for you, and we will go into depth later on after the tour. Dr. Bard, would you like to say anything?”

“Of course,” he said and snatched the mic with a wide, fake grin. “There’s something for everyone here. You absolutely will not leave empty handed. Umbrella cares about each and every one of your futures, and we are here to help. It’s my personal mission to make sure every individual will get the help and information they need to ensure a prosperous future. You have my word! Welcome to Umbrella’s open house!”

The three men put up the microphone and split up to join the chatting groups of visitors. Claire kept her cool, getting herself a cup of spiced cider and checking out the information booths just like everyone else.

She could certainly understand why Wesker was using her in this infiltration. There was no doubt she blended right in with the crowd of college ready young adults. She could tell by overhearing bits of conversations that many were already students here at the university while others were newcomers.

The hardest part was waiting. She couldn't get to the next step of the plan if they didn’t go on the tour around the university. So the younger Redfield put on a charming smile and worked the crowd, pretending to be one of them, fishing for information as she waited.

"Such a charmer you are, dear heart. But be careful of whom you charm. Some snakes are immune to the flute."

"Like you?" Claire whispered.

"I'm impervious to the charms of nearly everyone. Most people are just so predictable and boring. Thankfully, you are not ‘most people’...”

Is he really flirting with me over the radio or am I just hearing things? Claire sighed. As if she didn’t have enough on her plate at the moment!

“Oh! Tell her to sneak some shrimp into Nate’s food. I wanna see the dickhole swell up like a balloon and choke.”

She stood corrected, instantly, after William talked smack on the other side. But his big mouth didn’t get to say anything else before a loud yelp rang her eardrum and all became quiet again.

Claire shook her head, but soon a tall figure slipped around from behind her and greeted her with a smile that was more lecherous than cordial.

“Good evening! Dr. Nathanial Bard, how are you, Miss?”

He extended his hand. Claire panicked for a moment because she never came up with a fake identity even after Wesker’s insistence upon it. He had said the chances of her being approached were slim, but not impossible.

“Do not give him your real name. You’ll want to drop conversation with him as quickly and as inconspicuously as possible.”

As Bard frowned, the name finally hit her and Claire eased a fake smile that looked natural. “Elza. Elza Walker. Nice to meet you, Dr. Bard.” She took his hand and shook it, internally gagging.

His eyebrows rose high. “That is such a pretty and unique name. You from Raccoon City?”

“No, sir. In town visiting family. I was thinking about transferring to Raccoon University and a friend told me about the open house. Figured I’d give it a try and see.”

She could feel his eyes skim over her, not near as clandestine as Wesker was, and, dare she admit, not near as tantalizing as him either. Claire squeezed the cup of hot spiced cider in her hand, restraining herself from splashing it in his face.

Bard’s smile widened. “Well, I think you’re in luck, my dear!”

The younger Redfield didn’t realize how much she secretly liked Wesker’s pet names for her until it came from someone else’s tongue. She internally shook her head. Now was not the time to start having the warm fuzzies for that asshole. Claire could hardly believe she was even thinking in this direction. Had to be the stress of going undercover while quite literally having Wesker breathe down her neck...yes, that was it. It had to be.

Get it together!

“There’s a program for everyone! Umbrella Corporation wants you to succeed! Grants, scholarships! Umbrella will even pay for everything for you to transfer. There is no shortage of bursaries here. What kind of field are you looking to get into?”

Bard leaned in closer, suave and friendly. It would’ve fooled anyone else, but not Claire. This man was digging for something. She could only hope that he was being a lecher and wasn’t seeing through to her true motives.

“You’re stalling. Get out of there.”

Wesker sounded annoyed, but she couldn’t determine why. It wasn’t as though she had messed up the mission...yet.

“You know, I’m still on the fence,” Claire made up, slowly backing away.

Bard chuckled. “One of those, huh? No worries. When I was your age, I didn’t have a clue either. But do not fret, Miss Walker, my colleagues and I are here to help. There’s no need to decide right now. After the tour, we can sit down and talk it over. We can still find something right for you even if you haven’t decided on a major.”

“Oh, the tour...right,” Claire faked ditzyness. “I better go to the little girl’s room before it starts!”

She beelined for the restrooms just to the side of the information center in the lobby, even as the doctor told her directions. She sat her cup down on a table as she passed by, glancing over her shoulder. She spotted Dr. Bard motioning her way to the younger Dr. Lowery, the two men speaking quietly.

There were a few other girls in the restroom. One student flushed a toilet and came out, washing her hands and leaving quietly. A couple fixed their makeup while gossiping. Since Claire didn’t need to go, and wasn’t about to while Wesker was able to see everything, she pretended to check her face over too. She fluffed her hair, left down in long waves for the occasion.

“Worried about looking good enough for me, Claire? Don’t be. You still have work to do, and it doesn’t matter to me what your hair looks like while doing it. Just do it.” Wesker mocked. The biting humor in his admonishment was hard to miss.

“Geez, you really need to be nicer if you want to get laid, buddy!” William muttered in the distance. “OW! Fuck…”

Despite the wheeze of pain and cursing, distant chuckling sieved through the earbud. But Claire ignored it, instead nearly bristling and turned on the tap to wash her hands as the girls left back out to the lobby.

“I am doing it, asshole. Even with lecherous old men hitting on me, which wasn’t a part of the plan, by the way! No need to be so pushy. If you want me to go under cover here and make it believable, then let me handle it. It’ll get done, stop riding my ass!”

There was a moment of silence before William snorted loudly in the back, laughing. “That’s what she said!” He cackled loudly in amusement. “Man, I like her more and more every day...the girl has balls.”

Wesker's laughter was quieter, colder. “If you insist, dear heart. I’m just offering my humble assistance to make things go over smoothly. Just get the job done and we’re fine.”

Humble, my ass! Claire thought sourly.

The Redfield sister heard them announcing the tour. She quickly dried her hands and exited the restroom, melding herself into the back of the group. This would be the slowest process, she knew, but kept her wits about her even as she only half-listened to the doctors as they rattled off trivia and history over the university.

They took the upper floors first, pointing out classrooms that covered the liberal arts and the professors who taught them. Dr. Mueller told them the history of the iconic bell tower.

“Jesus, Greg, you’re putting me to sleep over here, put some life into it!” William huffed. “You seriously make me want to shoot myself.”

At least Lowery had a bit more spunk and spirit as he raved about the college’s sports teams, particularly the football team, the Raccoon Sharks. Which Claire never understood why they chose “sharks” and not, well, “raccoons” for obvious reasons. But hey, at least the sharks were colored up like raccoons.

They returned to the first floor and continued the tour. There was the fancy cafeteria, the huge library, and more classrooms. The doctors talked about more of the programs and classes, semester activities, and the following herd asked questions in return.

They left the main establishment to take a walkway to a neighboring building. It was still lightly snowing, but the walkway was covered. It was also illuminated by soft, yellow lights. Claire could hear the Circular River rushing nearby, as the institution was built along its path.

This was the building she had been waiting on. It was essentially its own facility, running classrooms, laboratories, and other departments, doubling as a school and a research center for Umbrella.

Claire used to not think anything of it, even admired how much Umbrella helped out the city between their programs at the university and hospitals, as well as their charities and large scale employment. Now, the deeper she went down this rabbit hole being dragged by Wesker’s leash, she started to wonder what was really going on.

Men like Albert Wesker, William Birkin, and Sergei Vladimir were not the type to work for “good guys”. Even the three doctors Mueller, Lowery, and Bard were all hiding something, that much was certainly clear.

So, what was Umbrella hiding? What were they hiding that required the Captain of the elite S.T.A.R.S. force and the Police Chief to control the city? That required them to murder people once they knew too much? And what about that top-secret underground Umbrella facility that William reigned over?

Claire had a flashback of Wesker pulling the trigger on Finley’s head, the blood spraying across fresh snow; how his fate was completely covered up with no one to question or oppose it. She recalled watching the news just the other day reporting on how his body was discovered and ruled a suicide in his car.

What happened to Mr. Finley back there will never be brought to light. He died in a car crash, you see. Committed suicide, or simply disappeared. His fate is whatever I decide to make it. You and your brother are no different, same with all the others who thought they could expose me. Wesker’s voice echoed in the back of her head from that fateful day.

Maybe Umbrella were still the good guys. Maybe Wesker, Irons, William, and Sergei were the infestation of corruption, growing and taking control, like weeds strangling a fruit tree from its roots. Yeah, surely that was it.

But deep down, she didn’t believe herself.

Once they were inside Dr. Mueller’s state-of-the-art laboratory that connected to a classroom laboratory through two automatic sliding doors, the professor slash researcher began boasting with a lot more pride and spirit than his lecture on the university’s trivia earlier. He showed off some equipment in his place between Lowery and Bard.

Again, Claire only half-listened, her eyes scanning the area for her objective.

“In short, there is no other research department like this in the country. My laboratory is vital to Umbrella’s key studies on disease prevention and cures.”

“C’mon Greg, you’re a glorified babysitter with a sandbox! Mine’s way better!” William hollered, sounding like his mouth was full. Coffee break between two sessions of unethical lab work, she supposed. Just another day at the office, between blackmailing and killing people. Nothing to write home about.

Wesker sighed. “If you wish to do a dick measuring contest with someone, at least choose some actual competition.”

“My dick’s bigger than all three of theirs. I got pics to prove it. Don’t ask. I have my sources. Courtesy from their parties with the senator. I will nail those dick pics to their corpses when we’re done with them too.”

And yet I wondered how these two are best friends…silly me.

“Claire, as soon as they leave the laboratory, the power failure will engage. Be ready. The laboratory’s backup power will switch on, but the security systems will remain down.”

“Got it.”

Still, William’s words hung her up. There was nothing stated in all the planning that anyone would be killed...but what if she was setting it up for these three men to die? No, she specifically remembered Wesker wanting to gain control over them. They were useless to him dead. But that didn’t mean their value to him didn’t have an expiration date…

Claire shook out the thoughts and trailed after the rest of the group once more. The double doors to the neighboring classroom laboratory slid open and the mass of people passed through, the doctors taking turns to address their followers. Some of the crowd whispered amongst themselves, but they were mostly quiet.

As the last few went through the doorway, Claire purposely slowed herself down to where the door slid shut inches from her. The power instantly went out. Total darkness and stillness swallowed her for only a moment before the laboratory’s backup power switched on. But just as planned, the double doors were locked, glowing red above.

She barely heard the mumblings of surprise on the other side before turning and speeding towards the main computer in the back, located near a single locked electronic door with a sign that stated, “Authorized personnel only!”

Claire reached inside her parka pocket and pulled out the computer disk. The same, unmarked one she got the other day when Wesker was using her to fetch from his informants. She pushed it into the drive, fingers itching to get this over with.

“You have just under four minutes, Miss Redfield. Don’t drop the ball now.”

She ignored him and typed away, putting in the passwords and entries she had memorized from the planning process of this infiltration.

The spyware program uploaded onto the mainframe in a timely fashion. What took a bit longer was it copying information back onto the disk, whatever that was. While it processed, the younger Redfield moved to a nearby set of drawers.

“You sure it’s the bottom one?”

“That is what my source informed me.”

“They better be right.”

Claire retrieved her lockpick from her pants pocket, the one gifted to her from Jill, the same one she used to break into Wesker’s house. She carefully worked the lock, listening, feeling, remaining focused. It finally gave and she pulled the drawer open. Inside was what she was looking for.

"Looks like the "master of unlocking" taught you well. Shocker. Guess you stumbling into my affairs paid off in the end, in more than one way... "

The sealed yellow envelope inside looked harmless enough. But the label printed on it in red ink chilled her to the bone. Requested research for THANATOS PROJECT.

The name sounded ominous to her, and she couldn’t help the shiver running down her spine. She had a bad feeling about this.

Claire retrieved it from the drawer, looking it over. It was heavy, full of papers and what felt like maybe a USB drive. There was a white sticker in the bottom right hand corner that read, “Paid in full. - AR.”

Those initials had to be Aaron Roth. If only Wesker wasn’t spying on her and she had the time...she would’ve ripped into the envelope to see what they were all hiding.

She slid the drawer shut and returned to the computer. The disk was ready to be removed. She took it back and returned it to her pocket. Taking a step back, she looked it over once more. Everything was in place and didn’t look disturbed.

“Finished in a timely fashion. I’m impressed. You’re certainly talented in more ways than one. I’m almost tempted to hire you again, dear heart. I’m sure I could find some use for you...”

“You didn’t hire me, asshole, you blackmailed me.”

“Semantics. What matters is a satisfying outcome...wouldn’t you agree?” Wesker purred in her ear.

Oh God. Was it just her or was there a double entendre somewhere in there? Sweat broke out on Claire’s forehead even though she had managed to keep her cool until now, but Wesker making ambiguous remarks was getting to her. Nervously (and not just a little bit annoyed with herself), she discreetly wiped her sweaty bangs from her forehead.

Let’s get this over with, she admonished herself. The sooner her dealings with the corrupt STARS Captain were over, the better.

The college student stuffed the envelope inside her jacket and under her arm since it was too big to put in a pocket. She hurried over to the double doors, knowing time was almost up. If it all went according to plan, the doctors and their party would still be in the dark locked in the next room. The backup power in this area would be cut off and the doors would open just long enough to allow her back with the others before all power returned.

When the lights went out, Claire barely heard the doors skim apart, courtesy of whoever was controlling the university’s power system. She stepped over the threshold into the classroom, moving further in, careful not to run into anything. This particular laboratory for regular classes had large windows on the opposite side, but it was so dark outside, it barely helped light anything.

But soon it didn’t matter. The power returned in an instant, back to normal, as though it had never been touched. Claire wasn’t far from the group and quietly joined them as everyone got their bearings, blinking to adjust to the sudden bright lights. Startled voices talked over each other.

“Everyone, everyone, settle down. Everything is fine!” Mueller announced. “Just a small power failure. Let’s return to the lobby and I will have someone look into it!”

Relieved, Claire followed along as Mueller and Bard escorted everyone out of the classroom while Lowery remained behind by the door checking on the visitors. That was normal and understandable enough until his brown eyes pierced her. Watchful. Suspicious. She kept her composure, offering him an innocent smile as she slipped by him and out the door. He didn’t say anything, but Claire felt his eyes on her back until she caught up with the others, heart slightly racing.

Surely, he wasn’t onto her. There could be no way.

"Think he's onto me," Claire whispered as voices boomed through the massive hallways, the herd migrating back to the lobby.

"Irrelevant," Wesker answered. "As soon as you return to the lobby, make your leave. Without notice, preferably."

"Don't worry, Claire. Lowery's a nerdy bag of stress and paranoia. Nothing to fear there," William added.

"Like you?" Wesker mocked.

"You know, I’m half-tempted to empty one of my petri dishes into your coffee next time you’re not looking. Don’t push your luck, jerk. Annette always says you wouldn’t like me angry. And you know how Anne’s always right. Even she says so!"

Amused chuckling was all he got as a reply from Wesker.

Claire rolled her eyes at their continuous banter. God, she swore these two were like old marrieds.

Once they all filed into the lobby, most visitors either took a seat or went and got more food. She soon noticed a couple heading for the front doors, sliding on their coats, and took advantage, inconspicuously joining them.

"Hold on, please, you three," Bard hollered, making the trio pause and look. "Before you leave, let us make sure everyone is accounted for from the power outage. A small safety regulation we must abide by."

Claire inwardly groaned and moved away from the doors with the others. Bard and Mueller finished speaking together in a hushed huddle and went opposite ways.

"What are you doing?" Wesker asked.

"You said to leave without being noticed. Did you not hear him?"

"Then find another way out. Do it quickly."

Claire ground her jaw but didn't answer. She looked around, thinking of a way she could escape. More university workers were showing up now from other hallways, probably disturbed by the power failure. Lowery had yet to return.

She watched Dr. Bard set a plate of food down on an empty table and left it to go introduce himself to another pretty face, using the same charm he had used on her.

Apparently, the prick was only interested in helping students he found attractive. The girl obviously looked uncomfortable but smiled to be nice, and that didn't sit well with her one bit.

But since kicking him where it counted would cause a scene, the younger Redfield soon found herself scheming up something better.

Casually, she went over to the buffet of refreshments, picking up a plate and grabbing a few random foods. She sat down at a table close to Bard's plate, eyes scanning. People were talking or reading while they ate. She de-shelled one cold shrimp and broke it up into chunks.

She had only a tiny window of opportunity here, and it all determined on the selections of food on his plate. Pulse racing but outwardly composed, she discreetly took a stroll over to his plate. From afar she analyzed what was on it, and what would best conceal her ticket to freedom.

“HOLY SHIT, SHE’S GONNA DO IT! I LOVE THIS GIRL!” William squealed in delight.

She winced, retracting the urge to rub her eardrum. Her deft hands quickly stuffed the pieces of shrimp into a club sandwich triangle. It was pressed back into place with the toothpick and then she was off, glancing around to make sure she hadn’t been caught. Everything went on as normal. Claire got some more spiced cider and returned to her seat to wait.

“Don’t tell Anne, but If I wasn’t already married...” William softly laughed in her ear. She could tell he was trying to whisper, but the eccentric, mad scientist didn’t realize he was louder than he thought. “She’s a keeper, Al. Don’t screw this up!”

Screw what up? Keep me...for what exactly? Stop giving him any ideas, William! God, this is really getting out of hand...

Claire facepalmed as she started to feel hot under her collar and blamed the thrill of committing a heist under everybody’s noses for it.

The Redfield sister didn’t have much time to dwell on it before she spotted Dr. Lowery emerging into the lobby. She instinctively made herself smaller as he marched across the room, going straight to Dr. Mueller.

He pulled the older man aside, whispering urgently. Claire started sweating in serious now. Especially when their eyes scanned the full lobby until Lowery pointed her out.

“Shit,” she hissed under her breath. She pretended not to notice them, her nerves beginning to rattle a little. She reluctantly called for help. “Wesker…”

“What is it?” Claire wasn’t sure if it was just her hearing things, but he actually sounded a little concerned.

And then she was saved. Not by the bell but by commotion. People shouted and pointed, some moving in closer to watch or help as an individual choked. Dr. Bard was turning red, red like the shellfish he had just unknowingly consumed. Mueller raced across the lobby for him, Lowery right behind him after giving her one glance.

Claire took her chance. She sprinted for the doors and was out, taking the concrete steps two at a time and bolting across the front courtyard through the snow flurries with only the college ground lights to guide her.

When she made it through the opened gates and took a sharp turn on the sidewalk, she collided straight into another person and nearly lost her footing. She dropped the enveloped stashed inside her coat.

“Sorry, Miss. I should’ve been watching where I was going,” the young man said with a charming smile, stooping to pick up the envelope for her.

He slightly flinched when he picked it up and noticed the label, as though he recognized it. But it was gone in an instant and he presented it to her with a warm smile and twinkling green eyes.

“What the hell is he doing there?!” William demanded.

Wesker ignored him and promptly spoke to Claire. “Take it and leave, do not engage in conversation with him, Claire. That is an order.”

“Leave?! This may be our only opportunity to kill the bastard!”

“Are you okay, Miss? Do you need help?” the man asked.

She silently obeyed Wesker, snatching the yellow envelope back and hurrying past him. The redhead didn’t look over her shoulder, but she could feel the man watching her until she turned down the next block.

Panting, the icy wind cutting her throat, she finally slowed to a walk, heading for her next destination. Traffic rolled by her, beams of headlights stretching down the streets and making the falling snowflakes sparkle. There weren’t many other pedestrians out walking the streets, but she did spot many inside buildings shopping or having a coffee.

“Who was that?” she asked.

“Aaron Roth,” Wesker answered nonchalantly. “He’s not someone you should involve yourself with.”

“Oh, but I should involve myself with you?”

Wesker chuckled mockingly. “Wishful thinking, Claire? I’m flattered. Then again, I’ve been known to have that effect on redheads...must be genetic.”

Claire bit her tongue. She pulled her parka hood over her head, bundling up from the cold. After passing by the empty elementary school, she cut across the parking lot to the bus barn next door.

Her ride would arrive here to pick her up. Unfortunately, Claire wouldn’t be going home just yet. She had to meet Wesker in person first. She just hoped that Chris wasn’t getting worried...or worse, suspicious.

The bus barn was a large depot and mechanic shop for all the schools’ buses. Rows and rows of parked long, yellow buses slept quietly. It was dreary and quiet, with snow falling lightly all around. A person could easily get spooked by themselves here, as though they were trapped amongst sleeping giants.

“There’s been a change in plans,” Wesker announced. “My main liaison will not be picking you up. Instead the collaborator that worked the power outages at the university will. He should be there shortly.”

“Okay,” Claire mumbled through chattering teeth.

“I’m going to sign off for now, dear heart. Well done. See you soon.”

She was relieved for the silence. Claire waited with her hands in her pockets, back against a cold bus, shivering, watching the snowflakes swirl around. The lights of Raccoon City at night were beautiful to look at, some of the skyscrapers in the distance were lit up in Christmas colors. The younger Redfield was so lost in observing the serene scenery around her that she did not hear the pair of feet that had slowly walked closer to her.

"Found you!"

The voice startled her and she pushed away from the bus, whirling to confront them. Shocked, she didn't say anything as Lowery cautiously approached, encased in shadow from a looming bus nearby, and sounding a little out of breath.

"The hell?" Claire hissed. "What do you want?" She reached for her knife in her pocket.

As Lowery stepped into the light, speckles of snow in his brown hair, she noticed the gun pointed at her chest.

“Lucky shot!” Chris whined.

Jill laughed, moving around the pool table to take her next move. “Suck it up, buttercup! You’re about to lose to a girl!”

“It’s these beers. They threw me off my groove.”

Jack’s Bar was crowded tonight. The bar was full and so were most of the tables. Music played on the radio, but it could barely be heard from all the talking and laughter bouncing around. The bar-and-grill was decorated up with Christmas decor and lights, looking quite festive and bright.

His partner made the winning shot that cost him this game of pool. She won the last time they were here too.

“Whoo!” Jill exclaimed, arms shooting in the air and grinning at him. “You know what that means, partner!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Chris grumbled, fishing for his wallet. He looked around him and then spotted the familiar face he was seeking. “Hey, Cindy! C’mere!”

The favorite waitress of J’s came over, an empty tray under her arm. The young, pretty blonde smiled and giggled. “Let me guess, lose again, Chris?”

“Hey, I’ve won before, okay?!”

“A Mai Tai then?”

“Yeah,” Chris answered, giving her a $10 bill. “Here’s for another plus tip...because I know Miss Sharpshooter here’s gonna want seconds.”

“Why wouldn’t I when your pouty ass is buying?” Jill snickered.

They made faces at each other, and then Chris spotted the rest of their party arriving. “Oh, bring the drinks to our usual table, the guys are finally here.”

Cindy nodded. “Will do. You want your usual?”

“Yeah, add it to my tab.”

Chris and Jill joined the others at their usual table. The STARS teams came here often to wind down and have fun, different mixes of teammates each time from differing schedules. Hell, even the Captains came once in a while.

Wesker was a pro at pool, too. And Jill had been on his team a few times. She said he taught her tricks...something about math and trajectory or some shit. Who does that? Didn’t people just point and shoot at the balls with their cue sticks?

The gang tonight consisted of Chris, Jill, Barry, Joseph, Forest, and Richard. Tagging along with Barry was Robert Kendo, which wasn’t uncommon. They ordered their food and drinks, a perfect view of the hockey game playing on the hanging box TV. While waiting, the group of friends and colleagues joked and small-talked.

“So, Kendo, how’s that new assault shotgun model coming along?” Richard asked.

Kendo cracked a grin as he took a swig of beer. “You ask me that every damn time you see me, Rich. Look, I’ll personally call ya when I make a breakthrough, alright?”

“You better! I’m excited!”

“Coulda fooled me!”

Cindy and her friend and co-worker soon brought their food and drinks. Chris could never remember the young lad’s name...Bill? No...Will. It made him think of William Birkin again...the mysterious man that Claire was babysitting for. The past couple of nights she had stayed out late babysitting, and it seemed as though tonight would be the same. He just hoped that’s what she was really doing…

“Cindy, babe, could you please turn the station? I cannot stand these damn Christmas tunes anymore!” Forest complained.

“Aw, c’mon, Forest. Get into the holiday spirit!” Cindy exclaimed. “Don’t be a grinch!”

“Don’t insult the Grinch like that,” Joseph joked.

Cindy gave him a look. “Don’t be a meanie, Joe.”

“Eh, he’s just jealous of my hair, Cin. That’s why he fucking hides his under that stupid bandana all the time.”

“You wish.”

Cindy casually shook her head, used to their antics, and left them to their meals. The gang discussed their plans for the upcoming holiday, after work of course. Most of the STARS team had family here to celebrate with. If Chris remembered correctly, only he (other than Claire), Jill, and Captain Wesker didn’t have any family.

Soon, they got on the topic of gifts.

“I finally found Claire’s Christmas gift. She’s gonna love it. I picked it up the other day. She’ll never find it!”

Jill laughed beside him. “That’s because it’s at my house!”

“Your house is the safest place! She’s a sneaky little brat and will find it!”

“Speaking of which,” Barry interrupted, dipping a couple fries into his ketchup. “I figured you wouldn’t be coming tonight because Claire’s in town. She make you come out?”

“Probably,” Richard snorted. “I’d need a break from him too.”

“Nah, she’s been babysitting for someone. Last few days she’s had to babysit well into the night.”

Joseph snickered. “That’s what I’d say too if I was messing around with a guy I didn’t want my big brother to know about.”

Chris shot his colleague a glare that almost dropped him dead. Joseph stuffed his mouth with a big bite of hamburger.

Kendo cleared his throat, pushing his empty beer bottle up to the middle of the table. "Oh! That reminds me, Chris. Did Claire get into trouble?”

“Huh? No, why?”

“I was on the other side of town yesterday evening picking up Emma’s medicine and I saw her with the Captain. He opened his car door for her and she got in.”

“Which Captain? Enrico? Or Wesker?” Richard asked curiously.

“Yeah, cuz that determines how much trouble she must’ve been in,” Forest teased.

Kendo half-rolled his eyes, sighing. “THE Captain, ya idiots. Wesker. I saw her with Wesker. She got into his car and they drove off.”

“See? I told you there was a guy she didn’t want you to know about!” Joseph laughed. “They must’ve hit it off after she went down to the station to give him a piece of her mind. Bet now she’s giving him a piece of something better!” Barry slugged him hard in the arm. “Ow!”

This was new information to Chris. He sat there, dumbfounded, at a loss for words as his mind processed exactly what Robert had said. “She didn’t get in trouble...that I know of. Wesker would’ve called me, for sure.”

Barry frowned. “For sure…But then why else would Claire be with him?”

“Chris, buddy, I love you, but let’s be honest here, they’re probably doing the nasty.”

“Jesus, Forest,” Jill growled, facepalming. “Don’t be starting those kinds of rumors.”

“Where there’s smoke, there’s fire, s’all I’m sayin’.”

Chris glared at Forest. “Between you and Joseph, I’m gonna shove those beer bottles so far up your backdoor you two won’t be walking straight. Ever. Again.”

“Sorry,” Kendo interrupted. “I didn’t mean to get everyone so riled up. I was just curious. Looked harmless to me.”

“Dumb and Dumber here like to start shit,” Barry explained, glaring at Joseph and Forest. “I’m sure it was harmless. It is Wesker, after all. Maybe she just needed a ride.”

“Or maybe he offered her one,” Jill added. “He’s quite the gentleman.”

“Gentleman?!” Forest scoffed. “The guy’s a hard ass and a dick to us most of the time!”

“I mean, yeah, he kinda has to be. He’s our boss. But really, he isn’t that bad to most of us. You two just get on his nerves all the time,” Richard admitted.

“Hey, who’s side are you on, Aiken?”

“I’m j-just s-stating the facts!”

“Alright, alright, knock it off, all of you,” Jill ordered in her “mom voice”.

“It’s all harmless joking,” Joseph defended. “And Chris knows it, right bud? I mean, how often do I joke what if Wesker is actually a sociopathic supervillain on a quest for power? Of course he isn’t...but I sometimes wonder!”

Chris shook his head. Joseph and Forest were frustrating at times with their nonstop jokes, but he knew it was never mean-spirited. They all ribbed each other all the time; it was their clique’s twisted way of showing they cared about each other.

“You and your weird conspiracies, Joe...But really, let’s just drop the subject, okay? I don’t care why Claire was with Wesker,” he lied. “Because I know it doesn’t mean anything. Got it?”

“Got it,” they all agreed.

“Good. Now can we all please get along, drink some beer, and talk about something pleasant? Like the weather or something?”

They all looked to the front of the bar, where the windows were. Snow fell just outside, looking to have picked up since they arrived at the bar.

“Oh yeah, pleasant RC snow...love it,” Jill quipped dryly.

Chris scowled, rubbing the back of his neck. He had even more worries on his mind now, thanks to their earlier discussion. And no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t push them away.

His overreacting, protective brotherly instincts had continued to gnaw at him, making him wonder about the integrity of this “babysitting job”. Claire had never given him a reason to doubt her, but still he worried.

There was something going on with Claire. She was definitely hiding something, and his innate detective instincts kept putting together the clues, all starting over a week ago. Some kind of worry or panic she hid from that jog on the mountain hiking trails, her quiet, wandering thoughts, some questionable explanations, the injuries she hid on her hand and ankle...and then this Wiliam Birkin came out of nowhere with a babysitting job for her. “A friend of a friend.”

And now she was with Wesker on the other side of town when she was supposed to be babysitting? That set off a whole wave of bad thoughts and red flags in his mind.

No, he told himself firmly. It’s Wesker. There has to be a logical explanation! I bet it’s all harmless and I’m worried for nothing.

Captain Wesker may have been a hard ass at times, and he and Chris bumped heads occasionally, but they respected each other and got along great most of the time. He was one of the best men he knew. A damn good leader and boss, too. After his big screw up in the Air Force, not many were willing to give Chris a chance, and Wesker did.

There was absolutely no reason to worry about Claire being with him. If anything, it should have relieved him...knowing his little sister was in good hands. Wesker would take care of her.

But deep down inside, something small, some miniscule but insistent doubt ate at him. A growing part of him was questioning whether everything was as innocent as it seemed...

#resident evil #resident evil fanfiction #resident evil fanfic #Albert Wesker #Claire Redfield #William Birkin #clairexwesker #claire x wesker #fanfiction #fanfic #Chris Redfield #Jill Valentine #chris x jill #ChrisxJill

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fe-husband-heaven · 4 years

Text

Commission! Niles X OC

Commission for @pompurii ʚ♥︎ɞ

Thank you so much for being my very first commission! I loved making this and your OC is absolutely adorable, no wonder Niles is after her ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Once again, thank you! You've been so understanding that I wanna cry dndndnfn

4,685 words in total!

1k requested + 3.6k free of charge!

If you find it unsatisfactory, please notify me!

I hope you enjoy!

_____________________________________

The halls were warm with filtered sun, the sounds of lone footsteps reverberated through the quiet air. The distant tweeting of birds and the exhausted sigh of a tired summoner were the only sounds to be heard.

Holding her beloved book close, she took solace in one thing being a constant in her life. Shaking her head, Nana brushed away negative thoughts, choosing instead to remember that no matter how many villains appeared, from Surtr to Hel, her heroes were always with her.

Lost in her thoughts, Nana let out a surprised squeak when she ran into someone, nearly dropping her book. She let out a flurry of apologies before realizing who it was she was speaking to.

"O-oh...it's just you, Niles."

Standing there with an impish grin forming, Niles looked Nana up and down before leaning forward into her space.

"Just me? You weren't expecting someone else were you?"

His sly smile made the lewd implication of company quite clear. Turning a darker shade of pink than her already rosy cheeks, Nana turned her head away, leaning back a bit so he wasn't so close. Pulling her hood up, she hid her face under the cloth, it felt like Niles was undressing her with his eye and she knew exactly where it'd end up if she riled him up accidentally.

"N-no…"

His grin grew as he pressed even closer to her, with a hand gently holding her chin, he turned her to face him, leaning just close enough to have their lips barely brushing.

Dipping a little under her hood, he purred against her lips,

"My little summoner, why do you insist on hiding your face from me? You know I love seeing every expression you make."

"Niles…" Nana made a pitiful expression, internally waving goodbye to any work she might have gotten done before Niles's arrival. He smiled at her before ending the tease and engulfing her lips with a kiss.

His hand slid from her chin to the side of her face, a thumb gently caressed her cheek, while his other hand went to sneakily pulling down the hood she'd rose seconds ago.

Watching intently, Niles grinned into the kiss the redder Nana got, he always wanted to see her face during things like this, to watch the shy and sweet sink into the depravity that is his touch.

What a naughty summoner…

Hands that sweetly touched the blushed skin of her cheeks 3 seconds ago began their teasing descent down the curve of Nana's sides. Adept fingers ghosted their way to the ends of her skirt before sliding under the fabric to run along the stretch of her thigh.

Niles knew exactly what he was doing and where he wanted to go, he only needed to seduce Nana into bed for him to have accomplished what he set out to do.

It only took a small squeak from Nana when Niles squeezed her thigh to have him gathering her up in his arms in spite of her surprised yelps.

"Niles! Please…Oh, how embarrassing…"

Niles allowed a huff of amusement to leave him, despite Nana's seemingly shy reluctance to being carried in bridal fashion, she certainly wasn't making any effort to squirm out of his arms.

She'd been carried before, by strong muscled heroes who thought it easier to have her manhandled than to risk her being struck in battle. Heroes like Draug and Hector, heroes who Niles found he was not too fond of…

But Niles noted how she'd constantly beg for them to put her down, wiggling every which way she could to try to escape their hold. In his arms, Nana stayed still, simmering in mortification but she made no attempt to be free of his touch. Choosing instead to just play with her hair, she allowed herself to be whisked away. Niles could almost feel her heart thundering in her chest and the nervous bite of her lips.

Niles licked his lips, it's almost like she knew exactly what would make him want to press her against a wall, slide that skirt up, and-

"Niles..."

Niles drove his divine thoughts away in favor of humming out a Hmm? in question of her call to attention.

"Can we…" Niles' eyes shone with a predatory gaze when he looked down at Nana who looked up at him earnestly and pleading,

"Can we at least do it in my room?" She was beet red and Niles thought she looked delectable like this. Taking on a cat like smirk, Niles cooed,

"What? You don't like the library? Or the garden? Not even the closet outside of the little prince's door?"

Niles knew he was being cruel, and he hadn't even started the real fun yet. Meanwhile, Nana had to simmer in remembrance of events that happened in each of those locations where Niles had already had more than enough fun ramming himself between her legs at the expense of Nana never being able to return to those places without remembering his touch.

Memories of having to quiet her moans with the back of her hand as other Heroes walked past, Niles doing everything in his power to get a loud cry out of her. Memories of quivering knees with driblets of white running down her thighs, and worst of all, the memories of aftercare baths meant to care for her that only ended in another round of Niles' games.

Niles felt a wave of arousal run down his navel, and apparently, he wasn't the only one as his eye focused keenly on the subtle shift of Nana's legs, pressing tight before subtly rubbing together once. The shaky breath that followed gave her away.

Stepping forward, Niles began his trip to Nana's room. Just this once, he'd allow one wish of hers to be granted, considering what he was about to do to her in bed, it was only fair.

It wasn't long before he stood in front of her door, smoothly, he raised a foot to the handle and twisted it up before entering. Closing the door with the side of his hip, he looked down at Nana.

"I hope you're ready, Summoner. You haven't been very good lately, ignoring me in favor of work and all. I think it deserves a nice punishment."

Opening her mouth in protest, Nana was cut off with an "Ah-ah-ah" before she was ceremoniously tossed onto her bed.

The squeak she gave out would only be a small sample of everything Niles had planned.

Closing the door, he purposefully avoided locking it. Nana noticed and pointed a finger at the door but Niles only let out a chuckle with a shake of his head. Frowning, Nana sat up on her elbows, pink strands being tucked behind her ear as she reasoned with him.

"Niles..!.You can't leave it unlocked...someone might come in."

Once he kicked off his shoes, Niles sunk the bed under his knee as he drew closer to Nana,

"That, my dear Summoner, is the point."

Nana blinked up owlishly at him, her round eyes the color of yellowed daisies were filled with confusion before shock took over at the scandalous implication that Niles would be more than fine if someone walked in on the two of them.

But before she could get a word in otherwise, Niles had already made his way between her legs, holding them apart as he pressed himself against her, her skirt flipping backwards as fair skin presented itself like an offering to him.

She shuddered at the cold air.

"Now, Summoner, what do you think I did while you were busy?"

Nana swallowed thickly and eyed warily the bulge that Niles pressed against the fabric of her underwear.

It's true she hadn't seen Niles in a little while, but she didn't think it'd been that long. Niles usually wouldn't allow for him to be ignored for extended periods of time...was he busy as well?

Typically, even when she was hounded by work for the Order, he'd tag along making whatever salacious comments he could, but she couldn't recall him doing so as of late…

Niles watched the gears turning in her mind, admiring a change in expression. He wanted to see everything about Nana, know everything about her, outside of all those duties of a timid summoner, he wanted to unravel her.

"I couldn't help it, you know. It was much too painful a wait, I had to give myself a helping hand."

Niles maintained eye contact as he grinded his hips up into Nana, not missing the way her breath shook a little at the movement.

"Oh?"

Niles pulled himself away just far enough to look down at Nana's undergarments.

"What do we have here?" he purred, pressing a finger to the fabric before running it down along the slit that it hid. It was clear that he was more than pleased at the dampness of the garm.

"We haven't even started yet and you're like this? How unfair, Nana."

Drawling out her name, he repeated the motion, pressing just a little harder than before. Niles couldn't help the little bit of adrenaline that rushed to him when Nana arched her back a bit at his touch.

"Niles.." It sounded like a whine, "Don't tease me too much…"

Niles laughed, she could be so earnest sometimes.

"Impatient are we? Very well, just this once.."

Slipping his index fingers under the sides of her underwear, he pulled the cloth off, making a show out of undressing her. Leaning forward to support his weight on one arm, he caged Nana partly, under him.

He himself wanted to keep a very close eye on whatever delectable faces she makes, but he also knew Nana would want to be able to kiss him during whatever sinister nonsense he was up to.

He locked eyes with Nana, and he could almost see his own hungry expression in them.

Finally, a finger dipped into Nana, Niles's thumb coming up to press & rub light circles against her reddening nub. If Niles's grin could get any wider, it would have at the way Nana's hips rose up from the bed into his hand.

Her eyes trailed down to his working fingertips, she almost wanted to hide her face from the squelching sound that was emitting from his touches. She nearly felt ashamed, he hadn't even started his ministrations more than 20 seconds ago and she was already this wet.

Turning back to Niles, Nana reached for the belt looped around his pants.

"Uhm..you too…"

She barely managed to get her hands on the clasp before Niles sat up, holding her wrist.

"Ah ah ah, not yet."

Nana's lips parted, a "But-" on her lips before Niles went back to caging her beneath. Sliding another finger into her folds. Nana made a small squeak at the sensation.

"Don't you have bigger things to be worried about, Summoner?" he cooed into her ear. His innuendo for what's to come wasn't at all missed, another wave of heat resonated through her stomach, Niles was beginning to pick up the pace.

His thumb was pressing down harder, and his fingers were jutting in and out, eager to earn whatever reaction he can garner from the pink haired girl. The bed groaned softly at the movement from Nana, who's hips kept rolling up, searching for more.

She shuddered out his name the more she felt herself pulse, in response, Niles licked his lips… before pulling his hand away completely.

Nana made a confused sound at the sudden cold air between her legs, feeling empty, she turned quizzically to the one eyed thief.

"...What..?..You didn't think I'd let you finish so soon..did you?"

Nana felt herself flush with embarrassment, she'd forgotten who it was she was dealing with. It's never in Niles's repertoire to simply let her finish.

He's like a cat with a toy in the bedroom, and she, the mouse who kept coming back.

"Awww...Niles!" She was whining, yes, but she also knew Niles was a big fan of begging and wouldn't let her go without a couple of "please"s. She didn't know what he found so enticing in it but she's done it with him enough times to know his mannerisms.

He hushed her before sitting up on his knees, the bed springs squeaking in response. Nana watched as nimble fingers, some with a sheen from being pushed in and out of her earlier, unclasped his belt and unbuttoned his pants. Nana gulped at the bulge protruding through the cloth.

"Now, do tell...what is it that you want me to do to you?" Niles was playing with her, knowing how flustered he can make her through his lewd comments alone. His question lacked innocence, it was the same as if he had said "Tell me that you want me to fuck you into this bed."

He was only looking for one answer.

Nana, who covered her face with her hands at the question, peeked at him through cracked fingers. Pulling down his pants, and undergarm along with it, he gleaned expectantly at Nana in a silent "I'm not moving till you beg."

Nana felt a bit of her die inside, she'd never get used to having to say outloud what she wanted from him. Niles would never tire of watching her face morph through various emotions due to his actions. It was addicting.

It hadn't started like this, he'd mentioned it before but he wasn't always Nana's biggest fan. You see, he very much does not like being told what to do, especially by absolute strangers that summon him out of a rock. He completed his tasks of course, but he didn't like it.

He of course continued his salacious comments back then, he enjoyed watching Nana squirm, but at that time, it was out of spite. Over time, he enjoyed watching Nana squirm out of affection instead.

With the number of shenanigans Nana found herself in all the time, he couldn't keep his eyes off of her. What had originally been a duty done at the behest of Lord Leo, was instead done out of a need to keep her nearby. He dreaded the idea of her being out of his reach, and lately, she had been.

Through no fault of her own of course, she was bombarded with the tasks of a summoner despite the plethora of heroes who could be of aide. Anger bubbled at the surface when he heard things like "Leave it to the summoner, she can do anything!" without thinking that it might be shoving her down a deeper hole of sleepless nights.

Regardless, this was much more than a fuck because he managed to find Nana in the hallway. She'd accepted him long ago but he wondered if she knew just how much he was attached to her.

"Do I have to..?"

Nana tried, never hurts to, but she knew the answer before she had even asked the question. Pressing himself between her legs and rubbing himself against her mound was the only answer he gave, Nana could feel how hard he was and it only made the room feel hotter.

She murmured something, not loud enough for Niles's ears to pick up on.

"Hmm...I can't hear you." He sing songed, "I hope you don't mind repeating yourself?"

Niles knew he was only making her heart pound faster by the way the blush on her cheeks travelled down her neck.

He leaned over, purposefully pressing himself against her, and pried her hands from her face.

A hungry smile graced his lips as he looked at her, awaiting.

But it seemed Nana had other ideas. Rather than begin her usual "No way, that's too embarrassing…", she reached up to tangle her fingers in his hair.

Suddenly being hit with the feeling of wanting to be close, she just wanted Niles near. Niles felt the change in mood and sighed into her touch.

He closed his eye and leaned into her hand as it travelled down to hold his cheek, fair skinned fingertips held him so tenderly that an uncharacteristic swell hit his heart.

She gently guided his face down, and leaned up to press a sweet kiss to his lips. Niles in turn returned the kiss, and began melding their lips together, briefly, before Nana pulled back just enough to look him in the eye.

Murmuring against his lips, her eyes took on a soft longing look rather than the dishevelled visage from before.

"Niles..please…please put it in…"

Niles almost wanted to laugh as she had avoided completely naming what exactly she wanted inside her but he was feeling much too connected to Nana at the moment to care.

His length twitched painfully at the unfairly adorable straightforwardness she'd displayed.

Beads of white leaked out from the tip of his member, and he took a moment to regain himself.

Humming quietly, he gave a "Because you asked so nicely" before burying his face in the curve of her neck. Shifting, he pushed her legs further apart before positioning himself, ready to sheathe himself inside her.

He gave her a second to prepare herself before slipping in, still drenched and sensitive from before, Nana gasped softly and wrapped her arms around Niles's neck and torso.

She attempted to take the lead, rolling her hip up onto him but Niles placed a hand on her side, stopping her movements.

"You didn't think I'd forgotten did you? You can move only when I say so."

His voice was laced teasing so Nana whined halfheartedly, but he frowned into her skin.

He was trying to get a hold of himself, Nana's insides were hot and wet, if he moved even an inch, he'd finish before he'd even started.

He's been in this position many times before but her earlier affection had riled something inside him, and it was having trouble not spending itself inside her right then and there.

To keep her from beginning to worry, he pressed a kiss to her neck, before licking a spot, intent on maring it.

"If you're good, maybe I'll consider it."

She didn't know what constituted "good" but at this point, she just wanted Niles to move so she sat still, awaiting whatever dubious instruction he'd come up with.

Niles himself focused on the spot he'd kissed before, lips hovered over it briefly before he took the skin in his mouth and began to suck before taking the area between his teeth, nibbling just enough to leave a noticeable bruise.

Nana, who knew she had to be patient, tried to keep still against him but it was getting more difficult by the second. It only grew worse when she felt Niles hand run up her side before reaching up to begin undoing her blouse.

Shoving her bra up, his mouth soon found its way onto her chest rather than her neck. He took a nub into his mouth while his hand kneaded her other breast. Sucking it perk, he swirled his tongue over the hardened tip as fingers tweaked the other.

Nana believed she deserved an award for keeping her hips still, Niles was touching everything sensitive and it with the heat of Niles being inside her, it was almost becoming too much.

Niles figured he'd waited long enough when he felt her clench around him, if she kept it up, he'd be in trouble.

He rolled his hips into her once, and the way Nana wrapped her legs around him to push him deeper inside her was all the incentive he needed.

His hip pulled back for a deep thrust before he slammed himself inside her, registering the mewl that fell from Nana's lips. His arms circled around her waist, holding her in place as he thrust himself hurriedly into her. The bed creaked with each thrust, and the sound of skin slapping against wet skin was beginning to fill the room.

Nana's lips were parted in a silent gasp, Niles's mouth was still working her chest as he shoved himself in and out of her, digging her hands in his hair, she cried out his name.

It only served to rile Niles up more as his flurried thrusts only increased in speed.

The thought of stopping when Nana was close crossed his mind for a brief moment, but the protest from his aching cock begging him to fill her and spill himself inside quickly cast those thoughts aside.

Some part of him wanted to claim her, every inch, inside and out. He wanted to stake his claim, to defile and corrupt her with his touch to have her cry moan out the name of someone as twisted as him.

He wanted Nana to say she loved him.

"Niles..mmhaah..please..harder..!"

He laughed in between thrusts, "What a greedy summoner..!"

She'd been good this entire time, he figured this is as far as she could go for today. Nana's own hips were snapping up to meet his, and the familiar feeling of a knot forming in her stomach was beginning to mix with white heat.

"Niles-" she could barely choke out his name through a desperate moan.

Her hands shook as she reached to cup Niles's face and pull him up to her, smashing her lips to his, teary eyes were squeezed shut as his tongue darted into her mouth, returning the kiss and swirling his tongue around hers.

She moaned into the kiss and Niles's own grunts were growing more frequent with each buck of his hips. Her chest bounced from the force of his movements as she began seizing around him, she pulled her lips just enough to cry out.

"I love you..!..I love you, Niles-..!..I lo-"

She was cut off by lips crushing hers, and the furious pounding of frenzied thrusts. She clenched around him a final time before she felt herself spasm and slip into a haze of ecstasy. For a moment, she could feel nothing but Niles's warmth and a burning hot white that overtook her.

Niles followed suit, jagged and erratic thrusts came to a halt as a final slam into her pushed him over the edge. Thick white hot cum spurted out of his cock as Nana relaxed against him, leaking down the curve of her skin, a part of him found satisfaction in being the only one to be able to fill her like this.

His cum mixed with her essence, and he briefly admired the way the sticky substance connected them as he pulled himself out. Both of them feeling the loss of each other.

He would crush this little petite summoner of his if he just collapsed on them now, so he slipped off to the side before encasing her in his arms.

She looked absolutely tuckered out, completely spent, as if all her energy had gone into lying below him and letting him use her body as he pleased.

He knew that was not the case but he found it amusing nonetheless.

She'd shut her eyes now, no doubt exhaustion had dragged her off a nice long sleep.

But not before she muttered a tired,

"..l..ove..you..Nil..es.."

________________

He'd been lying of course, he'd never once touched himself in her absence.

Firstly, why would he? It was much more entertaining to watch her struggle to look at the general vicinity of his length and gingerly grasp it while making the most nervous of expressions.

It felt much better in her hands than his sullied ones.

But second of all, he wouldn't have the time. Even as Nana lay beside him, exhausted by his teasing, she was left unaware of his going ons while she had immersed herself in her work.

It very much annoyed him.

It annoyed him how much work was shoved onto his Summoner, overrun, and without a moment's reprieve, it bore a gnawing feeling of disgust in him.

She shouldered so much he was surprised she hadn't broken yet, he didn't like so much being placed on her, if anyone was to break her, he preferred it to be him.

He spent a good portion of the night just watching her chest rise and fall, not a bad way to spend his time, he's used to seeing it making sharp movements in between gasps but a restful steady breathing was a welcome sight.

Good, all his work hadn't been for naught. He hadn't been gallivanting off to play with himself as he'd suggested, but rather to handle some of the responsibilities Nana had no business undertaking.

That timid nature of hers while absolutely divine in bed, often led people to attempt to push their chores on her. The meekness and kindness in her did nothing to reject other heroes unwelcome requests.

So he undertook those in her place, he'd keep that little bit to himself though, he wasn't searching for praise. In fact, he could hear her now, "Niles..Why didn't you say anything..?" in a squeaky little voice overcome with emotion. She'd always been a little bit of a crybaby, and he found no fault in it, it was always a delectable experience so long as he actually hadn't hurt her feelings.

He tucked a loose strand of light pink hair behind her ear, feeling it between his fingers before he did so. How shattered a being he was and yet she never once turned away from him, unfortunately for her, he's grown attached and refuses to let her go now.

He'll continue working unnoticed on the sidelines, the puzzled face she makes when she finds that someone has already done what she set out to do was a reward in itself. No expression on Nana went unappreciated, though his heart did like to twist and turn whenever she was truly upset.

Pressing a small kiss to her forehead, he smiled against her skin. He'd worn her out, got her to sleep after running her out of energy. Though he'd love to continue the fun, he accomplished his mission, getting her to take a break.

When he found her walking the halls earlier, she ran straight into him, probably preoccupied with whatever task she had next.

He thought his method rather effective, seducing Nana into bed for rest, would he daresay he might be a genius?

Niles sighed, as mushy and lovey dovey as this all was, she was going to get up tomorrow with that same dutifulness she thought her heroes needed of her, and it would be the same cycle all over again.

Nana shifted in her sleep, curling further into Niles. It was almost as if the world was teasing him, for a moment, he almost considered waking her for another round.

...Oh...Oh.

Niles couldn't help the quiet chuckle that escaped him.

Yes...what a perfect idea, tomorrow he could just...

His epiphany was brought short when he felt something poking at him under his shoulder. Letting an arm release Nana to grab the object netted him a...white clip?

He recognized it as Nana's and he looked down at her, he hadn't noticed when, but her hair was loose, it had come undone. A quick eye scan of the bed revealed a couple of white ties scattered across the sheets.

He felt a puff of air escape him in amusement, he'd been entirely to focused on whatever face she made to notice the mess he'd made of her hair. It stuck out in a couple places but he found it endearing, her cowlick had stayed in place the entire time funnily enough.

He pressed another kiss to her temple, and in her sleep, she shifted a little closer to him.

He gathered whatever he could grab without disturbing the sleeping summoner and set them closer to the headboard of the bed.

There was no use putting them back in her hair, tomorrow morning, he'd simply make them fall back out again.

Shutting his eyelids, the warmth of Nana's body lulled him into sleep. A smile on his lips as he imagined Nana's protests come morning sun.

#commission #my first commission!#Im so happy!#lemon #djnfbf thank you so much!#I hope you like it!

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