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seyaryminamoto · 3 years

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Do you think canon Zuko has any understanding of the idea of duty? That he, especially given that he aspires to political power, should act like his status as Prince gives him certain responsibilities? That doing what's best for the for Fire Nation or the world might require him to do things which make him unhappy or uncomfortable or require him to make grave personal sacrifices? Does he even understand duty as a concept?

Oof. Complicated questions, thus, this sat in my inbox for a veeeery long time.

I honestly, seriously, genuinely... don't think Zuko truly understood, at any point in canon, what it really meant to be a leader. I know many of us (and I think you, too?) don't particularly like the comics, but in my opinion, The Promise did a surprisingly decent job at highlighting several problems left in the wake of the end of the war, and perhaps unintentionally, this is one of the problems: upon becoming Fire Lord, Zuko is remarkably erratic, unsure of his choices, even seeking advice from his FATHER, of all people, because he has no idea what he's doing.

In the most favorable possible view of Iroh, he taught Zuko to be a better person. I don't entirely adscribe to this belief, but fine, let's concede that he did, or else this answer would never end: not just because you're a good person, however, are you guaranteed to be a good leader. Zuko, as we both know, is far from the best person in the world, and he is prone to making impulsive, emotional mistakes that can cause harm and trouble, and typically, Zuko doesn't face the consequences of most his actions, or the narrative just pins the blame on someone else. When we see this sort of behavior in a real-life politician, the immediate reaction we would have is "this guy is awful at his job", and sadly, I find myself thinking that quite often when it comes to Zuko's canon tenure as Fire Lord.

So... what is Zuko's concept of duty? Going by his pursuit of Aang in the first two seasons, duty is a task given to him by someone whose approval he seeks (in this case, Ozai) and he must pull it off, no matter what, to gain said approval. By Book 3, this logic still applies fairly easily to how Zuko acts over Iroh: I've highlighted in the past that the main motivation for Zuko's redemption is Iroh, doing right by Iroh, making amends to Iroh, regretting how he treated Iroh. He points that out explicitly in Ember Island Players, he does it as well indirectly by bringing up Iroh first of all, when confronting Ozai: this is his main priority. Ergo... I'd honestly say it's safe to judge that this is what Zuko regards as duty, as what he has to do. Iroh wants him to be Fire Lord? That's exactly what he becomes. The difficulties and complications in this particular line of work are taken for granted, and so, we have an outcome that was remarkably well depicted in The Promise, despite that comic's many glaring flaws: Zuko gets swept back and forth, twisted left and right by all the pressures and responsibilities, because he has no idea what he's doing as Fire Lord, and no idea/experience in how to be a real leader.

As far as I can tell, the core of the matter is that nobody really seems to have taken Zuko all that seriously as future Fire Lord. Ozai, evidently, wasn't training Zuko to be his personal heir. Ozai himself is a questionable source of information regarding learning what it means to be Fire Lord, considering he, as well, wasn't raised to take that role, just as he didn't raise Zuko for it. Yet Iroh didn't exactly teach Zuko how to lead anyone either, as far as I can tell: his lessons were meant to be of a more personal nature, and even then, Zuko had lots of trouble accepting most of them. Iroh's firebending lessons to Zuko were typically stunted in the basics because he was hot-headed and rash about getting to the intense and interesting stuff...

So: neither Ozai nor Iroh gave Zuko actual responsibilities. Ozai gave him a punishment Zuko was trying to endure however possible, a punishment he wanted to prove himself unworthy of by finding the Avatar and "regaining his honor". Then, Iroh punished Zuko as well by giving him the cold shoulder in Book 3, then he escaped and Zuko did everything he did, after betraying Ozai, to prove himself worthy of Iroh's kindness once again. It's not actual duty, the way it is in Azula's case: no doubt, Azula wants Ozai's approval too, but she has the madman's trust when it comes to finding her brother and uncle, to taking down the Avatar, and to conquering Ba Sing Se, as far as anyone can tell. I do doubt Ozai gave her all these missions at once, but he gave her the resources through which she pulled off ALL of them: she had the firebending procession, she had a ship, she had a train-tank, she had mounts... Zuko had a rundown ship that looked like a 1:10 scale version of every other ship in the harbor back in the very third episode: he was being punished. In contrast, Azula is entrusted with a mission, with LEADERSHIP, while Zuko has no visible, tangible, objective experience with the latter (consider how Azula steals the Dai Li's loyalty from under Long Feng: when did we see Zuko pulling off something like this? Even with Jet, Zuko was more of an associate to the Freedom Fighters, and Jet was still the leader).

I've always thought Zuko wasn't prepared to be Fire Lord, and the main reasons are the ones you indirectly point out through this ask: Zuko doesn't seem to treat the throne as a responsibility, but as his right. I won't get tired of pointing out that this was NOT Zuko's birthright, he was NOT born thinking he'd be Fire Lord: he was born to the second branch in the Fire Nation family. We literally SEE the day in which Lu Ten's death is revealed to him. According to somewhat official sources? He's ELEVEN in Zuko Alone's flashbacks. I, personally, think he looks a little younger than that, but I think that's the official wikia age, no idea where they got that info but that's what it says. Meaning...

Zuko, objectively, only had been crown prince for FIVE YEARS.

Zuko was NOT raised, not by his mother, not by his father, with the belief that the throne would one day be his (Ursa is gone before Ozai is crowned and Ozai clearly wanted Azula for the job rather than Zuko).

And yet, when you backtrack to the show? It seriously looks like that was the case. He clings to the throne in Books 1 and 2 as though he had no other purpose in life, as though this was everything that was promised to him (in contrast, Azula only ever indicates wanting the throne in Sozin's Comet: Part One). Even when he's an outlaw, discarded and cast out, he STILL talks about the throne, as though most his identity were built upon the notion that he must become Fire Lord: why? How come? Within five years, he's crafted his entire existence around being the heir to the throne? That's... a bit weird.

And a bit wishful, too. Which is why I commend that the comics show him struggling as Fire Lord, if anything they should've had him struggling MORE than that, because Zuko is simply NOT prepared for these responsibilities. He never gave any indication, any sign, of seeing it as such. He sees it as his right, his birthRIGHT. Why? Why more people don't ponder how utterly strange this behavior is, beats me. But it really does bother me that Zuko built his entire existence around being Fire Lord in a very similar way to how Korra built her own about being the Avatar. I have very little praise to give LOK in general, but the premise of Korra learning she was a person, a human, and not just the Avatar felt like the perfect parallel to Aang's story, where he was very much anchored in his humility and belief that he was just "one kid", and his rejection of his duties as the Avatar was meant to change gradually as he learned to accept himself as he was. Korra, however, never fully hit the mark with this subject, in my personal opinion... much as Zuko doesn't hit the mark either, since the show's only direct attempt to "deconstrue" Zuko's clinging to the throne happens in one dialogue, and his attachment to the idea is built up again, right afterwards:

Zuko: And then ... then you would come and take your rightful place on the throne? Iroh: No. Someone new must take the throne. An idealist with a pure heart and unquestionable honor. It has to be you, Prince Zuko. Zuko: Unquestionable honor? But I've made so many mistakes. Iroh: Yes, you have. You've struggled; you've suffered, but you have always followed your own path. You restored your own honor, and only you can restore the honor of the Fire Nation. Zuko: I'll try, Uncle.

And there we have it. The only point in the show (that I can remember) where Zuko seemed to not feel worthy of the throne and questioned he should be the one sitting on it (RIGHTFULLY!), buuuuuuuut he goes right back to wanting it, right afterwards, based on how this single exchange was enough for him to be 100% determined to take down his sister, merely a few lines later.

As for his willingness to make personal sacrifices... some might say he was outright willing to die for Katara in the finale -- though I'll point out he was trying to redirect the lightning anyway, didn't do it as well as he should have, but he wasn't exactly, consciously, trying to DIE for her... --, some might say that he left Mai behind in the FIre Nation, and that as well was a sacrifice... but was it? We don't see him missing her, or suffering about her fate, at any point in time after SHE sacrifices herself for him in the Boiling Rock (my biggest gripe over this particular canon couple is this, tbh). I feel like the show generally presents Zuko's situation as somewhat... self-sacrificial? Especially in Books 1 and 2, and yet that's really not the case: it isn't Zuko himself who makes the choice of traveling to find Aang, it's a punishment inflicted upon him.

This particular view upon his circumstances makes it so Zuko is never responsible for... well, any of his choices? It's always someone else's fault, therefore, whatever he suffers through, there's always someone he can (and usually does) resent for it. Therefore... I can't genuinely think of anything Zuko sacrificed in order to come as far as he did. He was forced to let go of things by his father, typically, by Zhao as well, maybe, but even then, it's not like we saw that he has a super healthy and happy relationship with, I don't know, Earth Kingdom people (his only meaningful positive EK bond was with Jin, which went nowhere and goes forgotten after a single mini episode)? The Palace staff? The commoners of the Fire Nation (they just treat him like a hero and he seems awkward and distant about it anyway, like he can really just do without their worship)? He doesn't have other friends beyond Azula's own friends... thus, he doesn't sacrifice anything that really matters. And in a sense, some people might say he doesn't have to sacrifice anything at all: he already went through so much strife and struggle that why would he need to sacrifice anything else? But the thing is... you DO have to learn to make such sacrifices if you're going to be a good king.

So often, people who devote themselves to their jobs have to consciously neglect their families, to name one thing: Zuko neglects Mai and she explodes at him for it in The Promise, then he just tries to get her back at all costs in Smoke & Shadow, with no thoughts given to the fact that maybe he isn't ready to juggle both a relationship and the throne, that maybe Mai could be happier with someone other than him, someone who can give her the attention and relationship she's looking for... THOSE are the sacrifices I'd be referring to, personally, sacrifices where his happiness and peace of mind have to be set aside for the sake of something much more important than himself, and I expect that's the kind of sacrifices you're referring to, too. I seriously don't think he's ready to make them, and with the comics as reference, there's seriously no evidence to suggest he's prepared to accept these burdens that come with the heavy mantle of leadership and ruling. I've never seen any signs of him being ready for it, myself. Maybe I need to reexamine the show and see if maybe I'm missing something... but I don't really think I am.

The worst part, for me, is that Zuko isn't even doing the bulk of the things he's doing in pursuit of genuine happiness: he's doing it over a sense of destiny. He never stops to reason with that destiny, to wonder if maybe he doesn't need to be Fire Lord, if maybe he could have a life beyond that role. Book 2 veeeery briefly suggests he MIGHT be on his way to questioning that destiny, but as I've said before, I don't see the sense in Zuko's big change of heart after the Appa incident considering we don't really understand what he's learned, other than how to be the perfect nephew for Iroh, apparently. Zuko never really is happy, as he says in the show: his happiest moments are with Mai and they're only like a 25% of his relationship with her, everything else is a mess (and his relationship with her isn't exactly the core of his character, either). So, the way I see it... Zuko is even worse off than it looks at first glance. He's out to fulfill a destiny he has never stopped to reason with, a destiny he's 100% sure is his, despite he has only been on that path, objectively, for five years? Despite he wasn't raised all along under the belief that this was what he was supposed to be? If given a chance to be genuinely happy, what on earth would he even do? A lot of the growth I gave him in Gladiator was based on that particular question: is the throne really what Zuko needs to be happy? It doesn't look like it, even in canon. If it's not... then it's not happiness he seeks, it's some sort of sense of assurance that he's doing the right thing, according to the figure of authority he follows at a set point in time: by Book 3, said authority is Iroh, and Iroh wants him on the throne. His motivation, as far as I can see it, is as simple as that.

Long story short... I don't think Zuko really has a strong grasp on many concepts that he absolutely should have reasoned with and worked out in order to become Fire Lord. In a sense, he's way too young for the role he's given, for the heavy burdens he has to deal with, and I'll NEVER see the sense in not having Iroh taking the throne (beyond how "poetic" the creators and writers found it to crown Zuko to finish his story, of course), at least for a short time, before Zuko can be ready. This is exactly why I wrote things that way in my oneshot where Azula takes Zuko's role, more or less: Iroh serves as regent while Azula prepares for taking the full role of Fire Lord when she's ready. I love her, she's awesome, I absolutely adore her character... but I don't think an Azula who was sidelined and sent on a long voyage with her uncle for YEARS could possibly be ready for the responsibilities of being Fire Lord right away.

Meanwhile? Iroh was given leadership of military missions enough times that he became a general in the Fire Nation forces. By all evidence, he was Fire Lord Azulon's pampered and spoiled son, whom he DID prepare for the duties of a Fire Lord for as long as Iroh was born: Iroh literally had fifty-ish years of preparation, as far as I can tell? How is he NOT the better suited person to take the throne, if just temporarily, while his nephew learns what it really means to rule by watching him, or by maybe learning leadership by managing smaller duties first, a specific town or city, and then putting his knowledge to good use by becoming Fire Lord properly?

Eh... because it wouldn't be an epic enough finale for the show, I suppose. That's the only answer I can find for this particular question.

So... yeah. That got long :'D but in short... I don't think Zuko has a strong grasp on responsibility and duty, let alone on the burdens inherent to these concepts. Yet more reasons why his character's arc can't hit all the marks it should, imo, to make it as great as the whole fandom is already convinced it is.

#zuko-always-lies #more zuko meta #and it got long #:'D #if anyone needs a read more #let me know and I'll add it #but for now #it is what it is #you know it really is sad to write all this when I'm more or less making peace with Zuko via Gladiator #and actually making him reason with soooo much stuff #that he never really had to in the show #*siiiiigh*#he'll never be my fav #that much is obvious #but he could be MORE #and it's sad that he's not #very sad

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nomtterwhere · 3 years

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come back to me || marco peña x reader

a/n: now that we have an official announcement for kissing booth 3, i figured i’d finish this little fic that has been sitting in my drafts. i combined two requests because they were kind of similar and i had an idea that would work the both of them in. hope you guys like it!

request: @dystopianchic13 requested: “Going on a date and finding someone better after Elle!” and @mansaaay requested: “marco befriended a girl before the elle thirsting over marco incident, and the kissing booth, marco and the girl sorta start talking again?”

summary: when marco starts at your school, the two of you quickly become friends. but when elle gets involved, your relationship takes a turn for the worse...

word count: 4.4k

marco valentin peña.

newest school heartthrob, with good reason, and very quickly set to possibly be the most popular guy in school. and yet, here he was sitting and eating lunch with you and your friends.

it’s not that you weren’t well liked or anything, but you and your friend group were nowhere near the status of the omgs. and considering the way everyone talked about him from the moment he stepped into the building, you had assumed that would be the direction he would flock.

but alas, on his first day at this school, he ended up standing at your table, tray of food in hand. your friend nudged you until you looked up from your lunch and saw him standing there. up until this point you had only heard of marco. you hadn’t shared any classes with him earlier in the day but throughout all of them you could hear bits and pieces of conversation about how attractive this guy was. and now that he was standing in front of you, those comments didn’t do him enough justice.

he was wearing the same uniform everyone else was, but he had rolled his sleeves up so they just passed his elbows, drawing your attention almost immediately to his forearms. trailing your eyes up his body, your eyes followed along his broad shoulders and up the length of his neck, glancing at his strong jawline.

you made eye contact with him, your breath quite literally leaving your body. his brown eyes were kind and inviting, friendly even, as if you hadn’t just been shamelessly checking him out.

“um, hi.” you say.

he smiles at you, nods to the empty seat across from you. “hey, i was wondering if that seat was taken.”

oh god, his voice.

you try and ignore the pinch that quinn delivers to your thigh underneath the table and shake your head. “no. um, it’s all yours.”

he gives you a full smile now, his perfect teeth on full display and you can’t help but smile back. he takes a seat, setting his bag down beside him.

your friend grant sits at his right side and places a hand on his shoulder. “you’re marco, right?”

marco nods.

grant squints his eyes at him and shakes his head, looking across the table at you and quinn. “unbelievable.”

he turns back to marco. “do me a favor and stay away from my girlfriend.”

“grant!” the girlfriend in question, jen, exclaims and gives him a look before turning to marco. “excuse him, he’s an idiot.”

grant releases marco with a laugh and takes a bite of his sandwich. “i was kidding! mostly.” he mumbles the last word through a full mouth.

marco laughs, waving it off. “it’s okay. trust me, i’m not here to steal anyone’s girlfriend.”

you take a drink from your water bottle, laughing at your friends. “yeah, this may have not been the prime table for you to choose to sit at.”

marco shrugs, giving you a half smile. “i like it. you guys seem very...”

“loud?” quinn finishes as one of the boys down the table shrieks as someone else pours water down his shirt. “disruptive? unfiltered?” she aims that last word at grant, who’s too infatuated with his sandwich to notice.

marco laughs again and you smile. he seems very open, you note. willing to go with anything.

“i was gonna say entertaining.” he shrugs. “but those work too.”

you and your friends quickly introduce yourselves and the rest of the lunch period resumes like it always would have.

marco quickly slips into the natural system of you and your friends, not even a little bit fazed when the entire cafeteria turned to see the commotion that you had caused when someone flipped their entire lunch tray off the table. he simply laughed along with you guys, giving himself into the moment. too soon, lunch is over and you and your friends are cleaning up your table and throwing out the trash. faintly, you hear quinn arguing with the boys, telling them you were the ones to make the mess so of course you have to clean it up! as you came back to your table from returning your tray.

marco looks at you when you return and stands. “hey, could you tell me where mr. peterson’s room is? i would have asked one of them but...” the both of you turn your heads to where quinn is supervising the boys picking up after themselves and the girls sneak off as best as they can before quinn gets to them as well. “...they seem a bit busy.”

you laugh, picking up your backpack. “just another day with this bunch, trust me. but lucky for you, i also have ap physics next.”

the bell rings and you turn to quinn, but she hasn’t let up on the boys so you just let her be. being late on the first day isn’t that big of a deal anyway.

you lead marco to the physics room, all eyes on the two of you as soon as you step into the room. you almost forgot that you had spent the entirety of lunch with the school’s newest crush up until this very moment. you could feel the glares directed at you radiating throughout the room and watched as heads of those who hadn’t seen him yet perk up as he entered.

“is it just me, or is everyone looking at us?” marco had bent down and was whispering in your ear.

you decide not to inflate his ego anymore and shake your head. “it’s just you.”

you take a seat at one of the lab tables, marco sitting beside you. you zone out as the teacher speaks, it was the first day so it was mainly rules and the expectations for the year.

so you don’t pay much attention until one sentence catches your ear:

“the person you’re sitting with will be your lab partner for the rest of the year.”

you and marco turn to look at each other and he grins.

“hi, partner.” he says, quietly since mr. peterson is still speaking.

“you should know, i have been yelled at in every lab class i’ve ever taken because i always forget the directions.” you warn him.

“well this should be fun. so have i.” he winks and you both laugh quietly.

the period passes slowly as most do on the first day. the bell rings but everyone stays in their seats since lab was next anyway.

you go over lab rules and discuss the first lab you will be doing next time and you raise your brows as he hands out the instruction sheet.

“yikes, this looks like a lot of steps.” you say to marco and he shakes his head.

“mm, yeah. next lab class should be fun, don’t you think?” he gives you a knowing look.

you can’t help but laugh at the thought of you in a lab class together, but the laughter is also for the fact that you found marco.

never in your life had you met someone who was so ready to quickly adapt and go with the flow. you had had no doubt that your lunch table would be enough to scare him off but he had already decided he would be coming back tomorrow. and so, that became the beginning of your friendship and many screwed up labs. marco inserted himself nicely into your friend group and the two of you especially started becoming really close. that was, until one fateful day.

“...hot.” is the only thing you hear over the loudspeaker in the middle of your english class and everyone around you looks up in confusion. “he’s just a guy...woah!”

you quickly recognize the voice as elle evans and also realize that she probably doesn’t know she’s being broadcast to the entire school right now.

“the omgs were right, this guy is a snack!” you hear her say and everyone in your classroom laughs, the teacher’s eyebrows raised.

you wince on her behalf. you’re not friends, but still. that’s embarrassing for anyone. everyone gathers pretty quickly that’s she’s talking about marco and you internally roll your eyes. obviously you know marco’s hot, you have eyes. but to have another girl describe just how hot he is over the loudspeaker during class makes you bubble over with annoyance.

and besides, doesn’t she have a boyfriend?

eventually, her tirade stops and your teacher tries to calm the class down so you can get back to work. but even as you leave your class, everyone is still taking about it and elle has been given the new nickname get it girl.

“ah, there he is, our very own full course meal. or was he the dessert?” grant asks as marco sits at the table.

“no, grant. he’s a snack, remember?” quinn joins in.

“how about all of the above?” you say and the table erupts into laughter.

marco shakes his head. “alright, alright. enough jokes.”

you get a deadpanned look on your face. “oh, no. we’re dead serious marco. you’re just that hot.”

grant wraps an arm over his shoulders and starts making kissy faces at marco which he laughs at and shrugs off.

“seriously, though. where does elle get off saying that kind of shit? doesn’t she have a boyfriend?” jen asks.

“she does, indeed.” you point a fry in her direction before popping it into your mouth.

“huh,” marco says as he takes a sip of his water.

“what’s that’s supposed to mean?” you ask him.

“nothing.” he sets down his bottle. “i just didn’t know she had a boyfriend is all.”

you give him a wary look but decide to drop it for now, hoping that elle evans was behind you. and she was, until...

“you what?”

marco sighs, sinking his pool shot before standing up straight.

the two of you were at the arcade, making the most of your last day of the weekend. the arcade was mainly empty except for a mother and her two kids who turned to look at you when you shouted. you gave her an apologetic look before turning your attention back to marco.

“i felt bad. lee can’t do the competition and she really wants to enter. what was i supposed to say, no?” marco says in response.

apparently elle and lee were supposed to enter a dance dance mania competition together, but since lee sprained his ankle, elle needed a replacement partner.

you don’t say anything, simply watching as he misses his next shot.

he looks up at you when he realizes you aren’t going to respond. “why do you even care if i help her?”

you feel your face get warm but you ignore it as best as you could, setting up for your own shot. it was your first shot of the game considering you hadn’t realized he was apparently a pro at pool.

“i don’t! its just that we have a take home lab due in two weeks and i don’t want to be stuck doing it myself cause you’re off dancing with get it girl.”

you call her by her nickname solely to spite him. why did you care so much? who knows, but you enjoyed seeing marco roll his eyes at the mention of the name.

“you won’t. and hey, relax.” he says.

you shoot him a glare. “don’t tell me to relax when you’re abandoning me.”

he chuckles. “no, relax.” he nods to the pool cue in your hand which you have in a death grip.

“oh.” you didn’t realize you had been taking out your anger on the poor stick. you take a deep breath, relaxing your grip and line up your shot.

“here.” marco walks over to you, disappearing from your vision as he stands behind you.

you quietly take a sharp intake of breath as you feel his body behind yours, his hands coming around you to lightly rest on the cue, shifting it slightly.

“what are you doing?” you ask, quietly but make no move to exit his embrace.

“considering i’m three shots away from winning and you haven’t made a single one yet, i figured i could help you out a little.” he says and you can hear the smile in his voice.

“oh, shut up.” you mumble, but you don’t put any power behind your words.

marco adjusts your grip on the pool cue, lightly setting his hands over yours. his chest presses against your back and you can feel the heat radiating from his body to yours. your stomach clenches as his hand grazes yours ever so gently as he settles in. he leans forward a bit as he helps you line up your shot and you try your hardest to focus on the task at hand. but his lips are right by your ear so you feel his breath as he whispers:

“and shoot.”

you tap the ball with your pool cue, watching as your striped 10 ball rolls into the left corner pocket.

marco lifts his arms in victory and you found yourself saddened by the sudden loss of his body against yours.

“there it is!” he exclaims. “alright, next shot is all you.”

you groan playfully, trying to ignore the butterflies that have arisen in your stomach. you spend the rest of your day in the arcade before calling it quits and heading home to finish homework.

when you get home, you mull over what marco dancing with elle in the ddm competition means. you try to remind yourself that marco said things weren’t going to change now that he was helping out elle, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that it wasn’t going to turn out like he hoped.

and you were right.

ever since they started rehearsals, you have seen less and less of marco. he even eats lunch with her, leaving his spot across from you vacant. you saw him during ap physics but that was the only time you talked.

and as for your lab, guess who had spent the past two weeks working on it herself? everytime you called him to get him to work with you, it was always “sorry, elle and i have a practice” or “elle needs me right now.” it was as if your friendship meant nothing to him.

“alright guys, labs are due friday. i want them on my desk by the beginning of the lab period.” mr. peterson says at the end of lab on tuesday.

“oh shit, i totally forgot about that.” marco says, turning to you. “how’s—”

“it’s fine. i’m almost finished.” you cut him off, packing away your stuff without making eye contact.

“okay...” he says this with a twinge of confusion in his voice and you can feel the anger inside of you. “there’s nothing i can do?”

“i don’t know marco, why don’t you ask my dozens of phone calls and text messages i’ve sent you regarding the lab?” you lock eyes with him, angry now. “does i won’t let you do this lab alone ring a bell? or have you forgotten about that too?”

he sighs. “y/n, you know i’ve been busy. and i’m sorry. i really didn’t mean for you to do all of the work.”

your teacher clears his throat. “mr. peña, ms. y/l/n. don’t you have a class to get to?”

you look up with a smile. “yes, mr. peterson, sorry. have a good day.”

you leave the classroom without another look at marco.

and so the continuing weeks followed as such, marco spending all of his time with elle and the two of you only speaking when you had class together. there were times you tried to reach out, to be a peacemaker, but he always responded to your requests to hang out with sorry, i’m busy. next time?

to no one’s surprise, there was never a next time.

and as much as you were mad at marco for essentially ignoring your presence ever since he started dancing with elle, you couldn’t help but tune in to the competition since it was being streamed live.

“give me a second!” you call to your mom as you sit in front of your laptop and watch as elle and marco are called to the stage.

you sit through the performance, unable to help the proud feeling spreading through your body. you and marco may not have been as good of friends anymore, but you were still happy to see him thrive. even if it was a result of ignoring you for so long. your proud smile quickly drops from your face though, as you watch elle kiss marco. your eyebrows raise and you inhale a sharp intake of breath when she wraps and arm around him and pulls him closer.

you shut your laptop quickly, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. you press your hands against your eyes, refusing to let the tears fall. what would they be falling for? some guy that hadn’t shown interest in you and then abandoned you when you needed help? you were better than that.

so you left it alone. you didn’t know what was going on with elle and marco and it wasn’t any of your business. you had put it past you. you and marco were still friendly, but after the kiss with elle, he seemed even more distant than usual. and you couldn’t figure out why until the night of the fundraiser.

you were walking through the carnival, looking at different booths with jen when elle ran past us, accidentally bumping into you. she turned when she noticed it was you who she had run into and you notice her red rimmed eyes.

“oh my gosh, are you okay?” you may not have been her biggest fan, but you also weren’t a bitch. it was obvious she had been crying.

“i’m really sorry. just talk to him, okay? please.” was all she said before leaving the carnival.

“what was that about?” jen asks me.

“i’m not sure...” you say, looking after her retreating figure.

but it didn’t take long to figure out because as we walked further into the booths, we saw marco walking away from the kissing booth. with his head slightly bowed and his hands in his pockets, it was obvious he was upset about something.

you and liz exchanged a look and she raised her eyebrow at you, nodding over in his direction.

“well? go talk to him!” she shoved you forward a little bit.

you sighed, knowing that you should. you assumed that’s what elle had been talking about. so you approached him slowly, just as he reached the outside of the kissing booth crow.

“hey.”

he looked up when he heard your voice, an almost grateful look on his face, and gave you a small smile. “hey.”

“can we talk?” you asked him and he broke into a relieved smile.

“yeah, i’d like that.”

you followed him to the outskirts of the carnival where the two of you sat on a bench right outside the exit. you sat first, crossing your legs as you faced the opposite side of the bench and patted the space beside you.

marco chucked and sat down, turning to face you as well. he drummed his fingers on the back of the bench, and you noticed his knee was bouncing. he was nervous. because of this you thought you would have to guide him into conversation, but to your surprise he began with no hesitation.

“i know i owe you an apology. ditching you like that because of my stupid crush on elle was not cool, especially after promising i wouldn’t let you do all the work yourself.” you winced at that, hoping it wasn’t too visible. you had known that marco liked elle, obviously, but to hear him say it aloud still hurt. “i’m so sorry. and not only about the lab but about our friendship. you were the first people that was actually real to me when i came here and you were my best friend. i let elle get in the way of that and i feel terrible.”

he fidgeted a bit in his seat. “i know i haven’t acted like it but...i miss you. a lot. i miss our terrible labs and arcade days and having lunch with you. i miss all of it. and i know it’s my fault that none of that has been happening. i really just...want to be friends again.” he looked up at you with sad eyes and you could tell he meant it.

and as much as you appreciated his apology and his honesty, you couldn’t just let him off the hook. “you really hurt me, marco. i get it, okay? crushes can make you do crazy things, but i told you that she had a boyfriend. you knew that and you still decided that she was worth risking our friendship over. while you were off dancing with elle, i was losing my best friend.”

“i know. and i’m so sorry. you’re right, i should’ve backed off the minute you told me that. but i really thought...” his voice trailed off and he shook his head. “but it’s not. and that’s done okay? she’s made it pretty clear i’m not the one she wants. and i hate that it took this for us to finally talk again, but i really just want to get back to the way we were.”

you smiled. “i want that too. and of course i’m upset but i can’t say i wouldn’t have jumped at an opportunity to hang out with someone i liked as well.”

“so?” he looked hopeful.

you laughed and stood. “so...marco valentin peña, you are officially forgiven.”

he smiled and stood up as well, pulling you into a hug. wrapping your arms around his waist, you squeezed him tightly as he did the same to you. you stayed like that for a moment before heading back into the fair. and just like that, the two of you were good again.

over the next few weeks, you and marco started hanging out again, he returned to your lunch table, and of course the two of you screwed up more labs than you could count. and over those few weeks, marco was getting over elle and he couldn’t help but think about you. the way you said his name, how you grabbed onto him whenever you were excited about something, your kind heart, and he especially couldn’t stop thinking about when you hugged him.

due to his height, his whole body ended to engulf you hen the two of you hugged, but you loved it. and you were an affectionate hugger. he wished he was the only one who received your hugs became they always made him feel so comfortable and at home. and when you let go, there have been more than a few times when he would pull you back in saying just a little longer. and you would laugh and snuggle yourself further into his chest. and there was nothing better than that feeling.

he really liked you. and he couldn’t believe he had wasted all that time on someone already in a relationship when you were right in front of him. so one day when you were at his house studying for your upcoming physics test, he decided to short his shot. sitting beside you at the dining table, he put his notebook down and turned his attention to you.

“hey, so y/n.” he said, his voice shaking a bit.

“mm?” you said, not looking up from the flash cards you were making.

“i, uh–” he cleared his throat. “i had a question.”

“shoot.” you said, highlighting the important information in your notes that you would copy onto your flash cards.

“um, do you–i mean, would want to go out with me? like, on a date?”

you paused your highlighting and slowly turned to face him. “i thought your question was going to be about physics...”

marco let out a short laugh. “yeah, well.” he just shrugged. when you didn’t say anything else, he got nervous. “is that a no? did i just make this weird? i definitely did, didn’t i?”

now it was your turn to laugh. “no, no, it’s fine. um, i would like to go on a date with you, really.” his face lights up but then dims again at your next words. “i just–i just don’t want to be your rebound from elle.”

“i can promise you right now, that is far from what you are. elle is in the past, i promise. i really like you, and i’ve just been too much of an idiot to see it. but you are not a rebound, y/n.”

“really?” he nodded. “because i really like you, marco. like, a lot.” you laugh and so does he.

he reached across the table and took your hand in his. “well that’s good to know.”

you watched as your hands intertwined, his hand squeezing yours lightly and you smiled. you looked back up at him.

“so yes, i would love to go out with you.” you said with a grin.

“perfect.” he whispered, leaning in.

you smiled and turned your head at the last moment, so that his lips touched your cheek. you felt his lips curve into a smile against your skin and he kissed your cheek again.

“physics first.” you said when he pulled away. “we do still have a test you know.”

you slid your finished flash cards over to him and he bit his lip, shaking his head. he took them, glancing over at you again.

“since when are you all about the work?” he asked.

“since we’ve almost failed every single one of our labs and need a good grade on this test.” you said teasingly.

“touché.” marco said, tuning back to his work.

but as soon as that last definition was memorized, marco took you by the hand, leading you to the doorway from the kitchen to the living room where a mistletoe hung. the peñas had decorated the house for christmas together but you could guarantee that this one had been marco’s idea.

you could only smile as he cupped your face in his hands, leaning down to meet your lips. you stop on your tiptoes to meet him in the middle and when your lips touched you felt the butterflies burst in your stomach. this boy you’ve had a crush on liked you back and now you were kissing him under the mistletoe. the thought made you smile and marco noticed.

“what’s got you so smiley?” he murmurs against your lips.

“marco peña is kissing me.” you said in response and pressed another kiss to his lips. “what’s not to smile about?”

a/n: idk about y’all but the best friendships for me came out of science labs, they are so funny for some reason.

taglist: @devilishdior @write-from-the-heart @minnyvees @lover1307 @sonnyalice @caro1115 @psg-for-life @mansaaay @thebookwormlife

#marco peña #the kissing booth 2 #marco peña x reader #marco peña imagine #marco peña x y/n #taylor zakhar perez #marco x reader #marco pena #marco pena x reader #marco pena imagine #the kissing booth

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mooniefics · 3 years

Text

— the hands that beckon me

pairing : zeke jaeger / reader

word count : 1.9k

tags : emotional hurt / comfort, relationship discussion, pillow talk, insecure zeke :(

summary : zeke is finally home, on a brief layover from the war, and you both finally get around to having that tough discussion you've been putting off for far too long.

— originally posted 1 / 21 / 21 on ao3 —

"what do you do while i'm gone?"

your skin was still hot from being pressed over his when he asked, thrumming with a warmth you hadn't felt yet craved so deeply for months. you turned to face him from your place on your back in bed, pressing into his side, peering curiously at his profile. you'd missed seeing him like this, out of his ironed, pristine uniform, hair messy from your fingers running through it, sharp features warmed with the flush of passion, unobscured by his glasses, eyes and voice sleepy and relaxed rather than alert and tight with self-awareness.

"what do you mean?" your reply was soft, almost playful to counter his matter-of-fact delivery, reaching out to draw your fingers across his firm, bare chest.

"i mean what keeps you busy? what do you do for fun?"

>readmore<

the war with the mid-east allied forces had been dragging on for just about two years now, and there seemed to be no end in sight, but after the marleyan army managed to snatch a victory from the jaws of defeat on foreign soil, the news came to your internment zone that the soldiers would be returning on a brief layover as the countries' political leaders decided whether or not they'd be willing to smooth things over in a more peaceful manner.

this afternoon you had been there at the gates with his grandparents, barely able to stand still beside them as all three of you waited wordlessly with baited breath, balancing up on your tiptoes, straining to peek over the crowd to catch a glimpse of him. while others were stood by with looks of unmasked dread—men with clenched jaws and stiff shoulders, women with tears brimming their eyes, children tugging at sleeves and already crying with impatience—you felt an uncontainable joy. it was humbling to look around at all the panicked faces, to remember that not every family had the luxury of your confidence, the almost guaranteed certainty that the one you loved would return. but you couldn't help the blinding smile that broke out across your face as he ambled through the crowd, tired, well-kept, but looking warmly down at you and his family.

you had let him to greet them first, they were his blood relatives after all, but only after he'd finished giving his grandmother a tight hug and exchanging affectionate words did you allow yourself to throw your arms around him, burying your face into his shoulder and breathing in his rich scent of gunpowder, pine, just a faint hint of cigarettes, melting easily into his strong embrace. you and zeke had wandered back alongside the older couple to their home, sharing a calm, easy dinner where zeke relayed what information he could to them about the status of the ongoing battle, but you were just itching to have some time to yourself with him.

you'd spent hours cleaning your quaint little home a few streets down, agonizing over every little detail despite how you knew he didn't mind whatever state it was in, just that you were there. and as soon as you'd both said your friendly goodbyes and made it through the door of your home, he was pulling you along to the bedroom, legs having memorized the path of weaving through the living room and kitchen and down the hall to the door on the left.

he was impatient, as he always was when he was tugging you out of your clothes, but sensual all in the same when he pressed his lips onto yours, murmured soft, longing words in your ear, hands squeezing and grabbing, reacquainting themselves with your soft figure. you both didn't last long—how could you when you were so eager—but felt satisfied all the time after everything was said and done, lowering back onto the mattress, flushed and panting, a faint sheen of sweat shimmering over your skin. his question just now had puzzled you. it was simple, but you knew it hid something deeper, he'd never asked something of that nature in all the time he'd been coming back and going away.

"well.. not much really. i go to work at the jewelry shop, have tea with your grandmother on thursdays, wander around the market if i feel up to it, help mary from down the street with her boys if she needs it."

you faltered at the mention of her, not remembering whether you'd seen her husband when you'd met with zeke at the entrance to the zone. you forced yourself not to frown. how selfish of you, you didn't even bother to check on her before you allowed yourself to be whisked away for the night.

he seemed to notice your sudden dismay, wrapping a comforting arm around you as he spoke, "you mean aksoy?" you nodded. "he made it back on the train alright. drunk off his ass, but alive."

you breathed a small sigh of relief, offering up a small smile at him. "good to hear."

and though his lips curled back in a similar expression, it didn't quite reach his eyes, and you only felt further perturbed by how his gaze briefly flickered elsewhere. "why do you ask?" you prompted, fingers trailing up his neck to rest at his jaw, gently turning him to face you again.

"just curious, is all.."

you could sense that he was lying, but about what you didn't quite know. "come on, zeke, we've known each other since we were kids. you don't think i know when you're hiding something?"

he hummed, the corners of his eyes creasing as an easy, genuine grin graced his features. "i apologize for underestimating your lie detecting skills."

you couldn't help but giggle softly at his words, thumb stroking over his warm cheek, body fitting perfectly against his. he was really here. finally, after all this waiting, he had come back to you, even if only for a few weeks that would surely fly past in an instant.

"i don't really know how to say this.." he seemed uncharacteristically sheepish, grey eyes traversing over your face, onto a far wall of the room, then up to the ceiling for a brief moment before it finally wandered back to you, "i guess you could say it started with me feeling a bit guilty, leaving you here all by yourself."

"i can bear the wait, you know that. as long as i know that i'll get to see you." for now, came the silent addendum.

he had three years left, barely a quarter remaining in his term, but you didn't broach the topic, and he seemed just as content putting off the discussion as you were. your relationship was easy, in a sense. there was never any squabbling over when the two of you would move in, or when he would retire from his position and settle down, milestones such as marriage and children were never issues. but there were days where you wished they were, though you'd never admit it.

just like how you'd never admit to the warm burn of envy that sparked to life when a man came into the shop you worked at searching for a ring for his partner, a spark that inevitably gave way to a cool emptiness settling deep into your chest, swallowing up your heart and balling an uncomfortable lump in your throat by the time you'd helped him choose out just the perfect jewel and sent him on his way.

"i know that, but," he swallowed, licking his lips, "sometimes i'm afraid that you're getting bored."

"bored?" the word felt strangely odd on your tongue, your own eyes blinking at him.

"bored." he reaffirmed, frowning slightly as he continued, "you see other people your age—our age—every day, don't you? when you go to the market, when you're at work, hell, even when you're spending time with your friends, you see people with lives, with structure." you knew the exact words that were coming next, but the impact of them hurt all the same. "people who don't have the thought of how time is running out hanging over their head."

it was you who turned away this time, feeling your lower lip tremble, eyes suddenly watering despite how you wished not to cry. all those complicated feelings you'd pushed down in favor of relishing in your feigned ignorance, of pretending that zeke was just a normal soldier with normal duties who was just lucky enough to come back each time. you'd always politely brushed your friends off when they'd pestered you of the absence of a ring on your finger, asking when you'd have children of your own rather than always being there to help them take care of theirs, you swept their concerns aside with a rehearsed smile because you didn't want to come to terms with the fact that you wanted those things for yourself.

the pill of zeke's looming mortality was hard enough to swallow on its own, all without mentioning how the love you shared was so rich yet so fleeting, fruitful yet futile all at once. you had no words to offer him, but your silence seemed to be enough of a reply, a forlorn, almost remorseful look settling over his handsome features.

"perhaps— perhaps you should search for someone else." you felt your stomach knot and twist, sorrow bubbling up like a geyser from below, biting at your cheek as to not let your shaky breaths spill from your mouth, "you're beautiful, it would really be no trouble at all for you to find someone—someone who can give you a good life. a fulfilling life."

"but.. there's still time left, isn't there?" your voice was quiet, thick with restrained tears, "there's still time for us."

"it isn't fair to you."

"it wouldn't be fair to you either if i left now." your brows knitting together, expression strained as you felt warmth trickle down your face, dripping down your chin onto his shoulder. "do you want me to leave?"

he looked away, hesitating just enough to make more droplets bead at your lashes before he shook his head, drawing a crooked finger across your cheek to catch a few stray tears. again, that disdain at your own selfishness came. he was worried for you, ruminating own his own impending death, trying to soften the blow of it for you at the expense of his own happiness, yet all you could do was cry at the thought of parting with him in any voluntary way.

"you're the one i want." you whispered, sniffling, "i knew what i was getting into at the start of all this, the things that i would miss, the things i would have to give up on, but they can wait. i can't be without you, not if i know that i can spend a single moment longer like this, loving you."

the sun had sank low in the sky, light abandoning the two of you in the dark of your room, alone with your shared, trembling breaths, his frown and distant eyes, your tears and imploring gaze. you felt weary in many ways as you allowed yourself to settle back onto his chest, closing your eyes at the feeling of his arm tightening its grasp around you, holding you close, a silent plea to stay just as you were.

he didn't speak, not another word of uncertainty exchanged, but you knew that he understood. he was here, and as long as that was the case you would always wait, keep turning down the hands that beckoned you, rescind your domestic desires for the sake of clinging to this one rare, importunate, lovely thing you had—clinging to him.

#zeke yeager #zeke jaeger #zeke yeager x reader #zeke yeager x you #zeke jaeger x reader #snk zeke #zeke yeager angst #zeke jaeger angst

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didon · 3 years

Text

Rashta, Navier and the true villain of The Remarried Empress

Listen, I don’t like Rashta. I don’t think I really need to explain why as most people clearly don’t. I think that she’s using very underhanded techniques to get what she needs and more. Because we all need safety and she comes from a place and status where she clearly need reassurance and that’s understandable. I find her annoying though because of the way she act and how she manipulate people. That’s my opinion. Navier clearly isn’t the only one she has hurt though so we can maybe stop using a sexist term like “Mary Sue” to describe her. The same way we need to watch our language about Rashta.

Now, I do believe that most of the hate should go on the Emperor even though it won’t because fandom is always more willing to hate on a “handsome” man rather than on any woman no matter how beautiful they are. Especially if they uses that beauty like Rashta does which was very common and still is. Not only is he the one truly being an ass to his wife, but he could have easily had people teach Rashta how to behave from the get go. Instead, he enjoys her ignorance because it satisfy his idea that he is this great person that everybody would love if they met. He cannot understand why Navier hasn’t fallen for him, despite not loving her himself, and need someone to reassure him that he is the gift to humanity he was probably told he was a thousand times growing up. He’s the true villain because he hurts both of the women, uses them to get what he wants, etc. For those that have read to the right part, let’s remember what is divorce plan actually is and how ridiculous it is.

I don’t think though that people should blame Navier for being “cold” (not that I’m seeing it here but still). She’s a young woman who was raised with an immense amount of pressure on her and she was probably taught that every single one of her actions have consequences. They actually do because whoever she talks to can be seen as favored and therefore will probably boast about it. The clothes she wear have an influence, her hair, etc. She can’t even unburden herself on anybody because that would be seen as weakness and as the Emperess she’s not allowed to have any. She has “everything” but not really because she is alone and not allowed to truly want or need for anything. Heck, people would probably talk if she were to express anything because how dare she need/want for anything, her who already has everything. She’s not even allowed friends that don’t work for her per her husband driving them away. She’s a bird that’s locked in a cage at all time and yet isn’t allowed to sing because it would make the free birds outside cry. She didn’t choose her life either, she was forced into it by her family.

That wasn’t my point while starting this though. I wanted to ask since when did slavery = bad become a hot take? I get that this is fiction, etc. but what is fiction but a reflection of our world and our values. Yes there are places were men can have multiple wives and mistresses and the women can’t say anything about it, but that’s not the case in South Korea. We’re also not talking about adultery. We’re talking about the very fact that somebody can “own” another’s life and impose their will and desire onto them. No matter if it’s fantasy or anything like it, it’s never okay. I don’t know in which universe people live but seeing an abject crime against humanity done and go “but it’s fiction” isn’t a good reasoning. The same way pure racism isn’t okay because of “fiction” or abuse isn’t okay for the same reason. I get that Rashta isn’t the most pleasant character but still. Especially since we are told here that she might be paying for someone’s else crime. Imagine how ridiculous that is. Your ancestor stole a loaf of bread or flirted with the wrong woman and the leader of your country decided that generations after them must pay for them. I know we are told that only a true “horrible” crime result in slavery but that all depend on the leader and their view of what categorizes a horrible crime. For some historical leaders, being born was a crime. That’s not counting a mad leader deciding to make their enemies disappear by selling them into slavery. Does someone really deserve to be treated as less than human because they or their parents did not agree with the political leader?

Rashta is a victim of that and is a villain sure but at least we have actual reason for her doing what she does. She evolved from the naive and trustable person we met at first, but how can she not when she’s trust in a political world with no idea how to swim in it. She’s also very much aware that her origin make her less in everybody’s mind around her. Now, does everything she does is okay or the right course of action? Of course not it isn’t. She quickly loses her innocence and start playing the game just like everybody else but she doesn’t deserve hate for that. The same way she doesn’t deserve hate for trying to survive in a world of sharks. It’s not a question of not trusting the Emperor, which she is right to do by the way seeing how he’s treated his wife and how others are treated for doing less than she is, but a question of trying to come out of all of it with her head on her shoulders and enough to live on. Does she eventually get greedy? Maybe and in my actual opinion yes, but she didn’t start wanting to steal a husband and a kingdom from someone else. Men are constantly manipulating her and using her for their own wishes and she can’t turn toward any of the ladies either because she is very much aware of how precarious her situation is. Unlike Navier, she can’t rely on being raised for the role of mistress or even her losing her status causing a political problem. She’s a nobody being used by rich men as a plaything and trying to not come out as a loser. She might be going at it wrong, but she was never taught how to do it right and you have to remember all the men that are filling her with lies and mistrust. Because pretty much every single of her “schemes” have come from a man telling her a lie or giving her a bad advice.

What I think is very interesting in this webtoon is the duality of Rashta and Navier because in a way, they end up in similar situations. They are both women that have to survive court and nobles being faker than plastic while men are trying to use them for their own gains and who have nobody to truly be able to turn to. Eventually, Navier gains people like that, but the tragedy of Rashta is that she doesn’t. She might think she can trust some people, but none of the people around her truly have her best interest at heart. The best thing for her would have been for Navier to take her under her wing while Rashta refuses to be the Emperor’s mistress (I can never remember his name sorry). By having the very same position that grants her the “security” she so need and desire, Rashta put her best ally in an enemy position and that’s what’s going to be her downfall. She might be annoying and pushing it sometimes, but we know she will drown because she’s never been taught otherwise. That’s why the true villain will always have to be the Emperor because he’s not only the one who pitted the two women by taking one as a mistress while married to the other one, but he never took the time to truly help his mistress, expecting others and especially Navier to do so for him. He could have brought her back to the palace as a guest only and Navier would have probably taken Rashta under her wing like she does for many others, but by making her a rival to Navier, he destroyed any chances she had to be able to leave him and survive which I think was something he did deliberately. There’s no way he wouldn’t have known that this would be the actual ending. He wanted to keep Rashta bound to him until he was done with her otherwise he would have asked Navier to help set her up with housing and maybe even a job. Instead, he probably held her status and her gender against her and decided to use her beauty for himself.

The lesson of this story in my opinion isn’t that beautiful women shouldn’t be trusted or that you have to be pure of heart and your history a blank slate to be worthy or anything like that but instead a lesson for women on who to trust and that we are stronger together than separated. It’s also a very clear lesson on how appearances can be wrong and it asks us the reader to truly wonder what makes someone a villain. Does wanting to survive in a hostile world make you one? Does not wanting to let someone take what is yours and what you have worked for your entire life does? Or does wanting to use others for your advantage, control them and force them to need you make you a villain?

#the remarried empress #tw: slavery #cw: slavery #navier #rashta #emperor i can't remember #Rashta isn't being painted in a good light for sure #but she's not the true villain of the story #she's not the real antagonist here #she's just another one of his victims

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honeybeezx · 3 years

Text

Armor - Oberyn Martell x Reader x Ellaria Sand - Part 4

Author’s Note: Sorry I’m getting this out so late, but It’s time for our girl Ellaria! I love her so much, but I don’t feel super confident with writing her. It might take me a while to find her voice, be patient with me guys lol. Anyways, hope you enjoy and as always, feedback is welcome!

Word Count: 4.0k

Warnings: crude language, mentions of sex

At this point, you weren’t even shooting to challenge or better yourself. You hit every target without fail, you weren’t even paying attention as you did so. Shooting helped you think, allowing you time to process your thoughts, you had a hard time doing so while being still. Well...sometimes it was hard sitting still in general.

“I always feel sorry for the unfortunate man that crosses one of your arrows.” Tyrion’s voice rang from behind you. You turned and gave a small smile before walking away a bit to retrieve said arrows.

“I’m surprised no one here has crossed them yet.” You joked, forcefully taking out the arrows from their targets and gathering them into your sling. “Was there something you needed?”

“Yes.” He replied, but still seemed hesitant to tell you.

“Tyrion?” You asked warily.

“You’re not going to like it. Oberyn is here again, but this time he brings his paramour, the Sand woman. But she insists on leaving the prince and I to our devices. However...Oberyn does not feel comfortable having her roam the palace alone. He asked if you might be able to accompany her?”

Bull fucking shit.

You were not stupid. Ellaria seemed like a capable woman who could more than defend herself. No, this was too deliberate, too planned. Ellaria wanted to get you alone. How convenient that she didn’t want to step on Oberyn and Tyrion’s toes when she was nearly attached to Oberyn at the hip the last time you saw the two of them together.

“I was paid to guard you, not the prince’s paramour.” You grumbled, but truthfully? After your talk with Oberyn, you were curious about the captivating Ellaria Sand. Equally as beautiful as her lover, and equally as passionate. If anything, you may be able to learn a bit more information about the guests from Dorne, and even more so, how to convince the prince not to kill the Lannisters.

“Fine. But next time Bronn gets babysitting duty.” You huffed. If you made it easy for Tyrion he might get suspicious.

It wasn’t as if you thought the prince’s lover was incredibly beautiful.

No, he wouldn’t guess that.

Right?

“They both asked for you specifically, but I will try to convince them next time.” Tyrion said, almost as a joke. “Tell me, why are they so taken with you? First Oberyn visits the palace only to converse with you, next Ellaria asks for you to keep her company.” Tyrion eyed you suspiciously. He was far too clever for his own good, and while it amused you most of the time, it was also extremely annoying.

“Now, are you going to tell me what really happened in that brothel?”

You punched Tyrion hard in the arm.

“Ow!!! You just punched me!! How dare you!! I ought to arrest you for treason!” Tyrion whined dramatically, but none of his words scared you.

“I didn’t sleep with either of them if that’s what you’re implying, you fucking bastard.” You spat. Tyrion often teased you, but this was a new low for him. “What I told you was true, I did as I was told.”

Tyrion was still holding his arm and wincing as he processed your words. “Oh come now, you must have done something for them to like you so much. Even I didn’t like you the first time I met you.” He teased.

“Fuck off.” You grumbled, holding back your urge to shove him. You knew Tyrion and you knew he would find out one way or another. And if he and Oberyn were going to meet today, Tyrion was sure to ask him about it. You’d rather tell him yourself than have him hear it from Oberyn. Only the gods knew what sort of version he’d give. “I gave them the girls, but they just weren’t as interested in them. They were...They were interested in me.” You tried to say as nonchalantly as you could, trying to keep your voice steady.

To say Tyrion was shocked was an understatement. “Really?” He asked, clearly amused.

This was not going to go well for you.

“And what did you say to that? A handsome prince and his beautiful woman want to fuck you, and you just said no?”

You punched him in the arm again, causing him to wince once more. “You she-devil! Will you please stop hitting me, you vile, terrifyingly strong woman!”

“Stop making jokes about this!! This is serious Tyrion!! They insulted me. I am a skilled assassin, known throughout Westeros and all they wanted to do was fuck me, thought I was another girl for purchase. And to make matters worse, I don’t think their feelings have changed on the matter.” You huffed, plopping down into the grass. You knew you would have to get back up soon, both of you couldn’t leave the Dornish waiting, but you wanted nothing more than to lie there forever and forget your troubles.

Tyrion softened and pulled you up into a sitting position to look at him as he sat across from you. “Is that why Oberyn visited you yesterday?”

You sighed but nodded. “We...have a better understanding now. They know why I was angry and they are smart enough to not press it any further, but they don’t hide their desire. I’m watching both him and Ellaria. I still don’t trust them. I think they want to use me to get to you and the rest of your family. It won’t work.” You promised confidently. Even Oberyn’s pretty words could not break you, and you planned on keeping it that way.

Tyrion looked sad and you could not, for the life of you, understand why. Surely keeping your guard was a good thing? Surely the fact that you were starting to get a hold of this little game was something he should be proud of. So why did he look so remorseful?

“We better get going. Don’t want Oberyn stabbing another Lannister while he waits for us.” Tyrion joked half-heartedly.

You eyed him suspiciously. He knew that you knew something was up with him, but he wasn’t going to relent. You decided to drop it. After all, you were keeping royalty waiting.

But before you could re-enter the palace, Tyrion grabbed your wrist. Your head snapped back to him at the sudden gesture. “Don’t let them in too much, but don’t dismiss them as an ally. They may be useful to us...and you need friends.”

This sort of sentiment didn’t suit either of you, but especially not Tyrion. You were confused by his words. “I have friends. I have Bronn, and Shae, and-“

“That’s different.” Tyrion cut off. “I hired you and we all became friends in the process. These people may want to befriend you just because they like you. I’m not telling you to bare your heart to them, I’m telling you to be open-minded.” He clarified. You weren’t used to seeing Tyrion so...serious, at least in this regard. He let go of your wrist and composed himself as if nothing happened.

You didn’t really know what to say to all of that, so you did the same and followed behind Tyrion into the palace.

“Prince Oberyn, Lady Ellaria, welcome to King’s Landing.” Tyrion smiled softly before giving a small bow.

The Dornish returned the favor. Both of them were once again adorned in the colors of their homeland. Warm tones of yellows, golds, and oranges draping loosely against their toned frames.

But when their heads came up from the small bow, both pairs of eyes settled on you.

“It is good to see you again, little hawk.” Ellaria cooed.

If her voice wasn’t so soft you might have been angry. You were not little.

“The pleasure is all mine, my lady.” You replied with ease, keeping your cool.

“As much as I would love to enjoy your company once more, I’m afraid Lord Tyrion and I have business to discuss.” Oberyn said sadly, but gave you a small smile anyways.

“Keep Lady Ellaria company. Shouldn’t be long.” Tyrion instructed, but his eyes still bore into yours. Remember what I said.

“Give me a tour?” Ellaria brought you back to the present, her mischievous eyes dancing over you. You had a feeling this was not just going to be a tour.

“Of course, Lady Ellaria.”

The Dornish woman cackled with laughter, as if to prove a point. “I am no lady. Ellaria is fine. I am not wed to Oberyn, therefore I have no royal status”

You quirked an eyebrow at her response. “Not married? But you two are so...close.” And the fact that they stayed together when they both preferred having several lovers was certainly saying something as well.

“We are wed in everything except name.” Ellaria explained. Oddly enough, it made sense. Dedicated to each other, but also able to seek pleasure with others. They could be attracted to several people, but love was another matter entirely. It went deeper than just fucking around. They were each other’s person.

You tried not to think about how easily you understood that.

“Oberyn is the love of my life. I love him, and he loves me, completely. There are no barriers with us. We take what gives us pleasure as long as it benefits both of us.” Ellaria smiled to herself. It was easy to see how much she loved him and vice versa.

What an incredible thing to know someone so completely.

“However,” she began, “Life in our homeland calls to us. Oberyn and I wish to see more of our children. We have seen enough of Westeros to last us a lifetime. We want to...settle down, to only leave Dorne on matters of business.” Ellaria explained. It seemed hard to imagine the two living a domestic life. They were so bold and free, and they possessed the power to go anywhere, do anything.

But you remembered your talk with Oberyn and about his eight daughters. So much was uncertain about the prince, but his love for his family was unquestionable. He was willing to kill Tywin Lannister, the most powerful man in all of Westeros because he believed him to be involved with his sister's murder. No one could fake that level of love and dedication. If you loved someone that much, you imagined you’d stay in one place for them too.

“Oberyn and I still love each other, very much, but we sometimes wonder if there is one another person who may join us. Someone more constant. Oberyn and I have been with each other for so long. To know someone else as well as we know each other could make things interesting.”

You really didn’t like that she was staring at you so intently.

Or maybe you did, and that was the problem.

“There are many people who I’m sure would be honored to receive the affections of Dornish royalty.” You replied easily, trying to draw the attention away from you.

“Not so many as we might have thought.” Ellaria teased before linking her arm with yours. How she had managed to do that so easily was beyond you. You looked around and were relieved to see that no one was around, but you were still on guard. Spies were everywhere in this palace. But when you thought about it, there was no way the queen could use this against you. She may tease you about it, sure, but she could not hurt Ellaria and start a war just because she didn’t like you.

So while you hated feeling your heart in your chest...this was safe.

“Don’t look so frightened.” Ellaria chided. “You are simply escorting me, yes?”

You eyed her disbelievingly. That was not all that was going on here, and you couldn't help but notice her choice of words. “I think we have different ideas on what makes a person an escort.”

Ellaria hummed and smirked. “Very different ideas.” She flirted.

You narrowed your eyes in warning and she got the hint...sort of. “I like a person in armor. Oberyn has dashing leather brown armor, but I very seldom see women with such attire, a shame really. It’s flattering in a different sort of way.”

You rolled your eyes. “My armor is not for appearances. It keeps me safe.”

“Safe and beautiful can coexist.” She smirked. “I know it was not your intention for the armor to be beautiful, but it is.” Ellaria used her other hand to trace the ornate design. There wasn’t much additional detail, just your crest, an arrow intertwined with a feather on your shoulder pieces. It was subtle enough for someone to notice at such close proximity, but otherwise, the crest was for you and no one else. You didn’t need people to know your crest, you kept it as a reminder of who you were.

“Your armor is a piece of you. I don’t pretend to understand what it is to be you, but I do understand what it is to be a woman. Not many women can say they are feared warriors or assassins, you’ve earned the stories they say about you, you’ve earned your reputation. You have every reason to wear it with pride.” Ellaria smiled at you before...seven hells was she cuddling into your arm????

You were glad Tyrion and Bronn were nowhere in sight.

But as quickly as she did it, she resumed her previous position, simply perched on your arm, as if nothing had happened.

“And it suits you because it does not hide your pretty face.”

You were sure the compliment was only meant to make you more flustered. “If you wish to catch me off guard, Ellaria, you will have to try much harder than that.” You snipped.

The striking woman chuckled and her laugh, her true laugh, was the sweetest noise in all the realms. Joy and life were in that laugh. Warmth. That was the feeling. You almost didn’t recognize it. It had been so long since you had felt anything close to it. It settled in your chest and forced you just...feel.

And you couldn’t run away from it, not with her arm locked around yours. You wondered if that had been her game all along.

“Do not tempt me, Silver Hawk. You forget that I stood before you in a brothel. I could very easily arrange for you to meet us there again.”

“No.” You replied before you could even stop yourself. Your mind reeled, trying to recover, to say anything that could give you at least some of your dignity back. “I only go where Tyrion tells me to. Otherwise, I am at his side or within reach.”

“And what if I ask Tyrion to just...have you visit a while?” She teased.

You rolled your eyes.

“Then I will acquiesce, but that doesn’t mean I have to do what you tell me.”

“Hmmm...We’ll just have to convince you then.”

You snorted. “It would be amusing to see you both try. I am paid to assist Tyrion, but even then some of his demands do not go without question. If I truly didn’t want to do something he asked of me there is not a man alive who could make me do it.”

Ellaria’s eyes darkened as she looked at you.

You didn’t know it, but she could have taken you right there on the palace floor.

“You are a fearsome thing to behold, do you know that?” Ellaria laughed. “Believe me when I say I would not do anything to push you away, not when I am enjoying your company so much. I believe my prince spoke to you of friendship, yes?”

“He did indeed.”

“That is what we both want. But at least let me compliment you. A pretty face as yours deserves at least that.” Ellaria grinned.

You sighed, but her deep brown eyes were impossible to deny.

“Only when we’re alone. I don’t need Tyrion or Bronn giving me any trouble over it.” You grumbled.

“Deal.” Ellaria agreed.

“Ellaria.” A familiar voice called from behind you. On instinct you pulled away from her, even though you were sure the Dornish prince did not mind. What you were worried about was the hand of the king that trailed behind him. You hoped he hadn’t seen you with Ellaria draped all over you.

“My prince.” Ellaria greeted, returning to her favorite place, at her lover’s side. “She is nice company when she’s not so defensive.”

“You should see her when she’s drunk.” Tyrion chipped in. “That’s the only time she seems to like me.”

Somehow you managed to glare at both of them.

“Oh stop now, just a bit of fun. The prince and I were actually just speaking fondly of you.” Tyrion had that familiar, mischievous glint in his eye that made your heart palpitate faster in your chest.

“Oh really?” You were not amused. Now the prince was the object of your glares. What did he tell Tyrion? Did he betray you? Tyrion knew the prince and his lover were enamored with you, but Oberyn didn’t know that Tyrion knew. Not to mention you told Tyrion nothing about your little threats you gave upon meeting them both. If he told Tyrion, you would never hear the end of it, and you would be even more on guard around the prince than you usually were.

“We were discussing the idea of a tournament.” Tyrion proposed. “The king is fond of...violent delights and your skill with a bow would most certainly amuse him. I made a bet against the prince here that you would beat any challenger.”

“I intend on losing.” Oberyn laughed. “That is why I did not bet a lot.”

“Still,” Tyrion smirked, “I would very much like to be in possession of more money that I have to do nothing for, so I was wondering if you could help me.”

How Tyrion thought he would be able to convince you so easily and propose this idea for his own benefit was beyond you.

“And what do I get from this?” You weren't one for showing off your skill. There was some sort of advantage to people underestimating you, you could always take them by surprise. But by now your reputation probably ruined any chance of surprising anyone. Not to mention you could change your mind if money or something of value were involved.

“The adoration of the king, the hand of the king, and the high society of Westeros.”

You snorted. “Forget it.”

“Fine! You can have the winnings too.” Tyrion huffed. “You rob me of my own winnings from my own bet. You wound me, my dear.”

“You’ll get over it.”

Both Oberyn and Ellaria laughed.

“Do you two always act like this?” Ellaria asked.

“Unfortunately her skill comes with a mouth and an attitude. She sometimes succeeds in making me question if that is worth the protection she provides.”

“If my protection wasn’t worth it, I would still be in the North right now.”

“Hmmm...yes sometimes I wish you still were.”

You gave Tyrion a playful nudge. “Don’t listen to him. He’d miss me.”

“I can tell.” Oberyn grinned. For a second you forgot all about keeping your guard up around the Dornish visitors. Tyrion always brought that out of you, the real, unguarded version of you. You supposed you could allow yourself some fun, just this once.

“This is so exciting! I’ve been dying to see the Silver Hawk in action.” Ellaria grinned something mischievous. In any other circumstance, it might have made you nervous, but the chance to actually get some shooting in was actually exciting.

Definitely didn’t have anything to do with showing off in front of Oberyn and Ellaria.

Definitely not.

“I hope to live up to your expectations, Ellaria.” You smiled, just a little.

“I’m sure you will exceed them.” She winked

Tyrion glanced between you and the Dornish. “It seems like she already has.”

If looks could kill, Tyrion would have dropped dead under the heat of your glare.

“She has been more than obligating in making us feel welcome here.” Your eyes widened at Oberyn, but you quickly concealed your shock. He hadn’t told Tyrion about your threats and less than warm welcome. But why? Why would he lose the opportunity to get back at you for insulting a prince, a prince who was an honored guest nonetheless? “You have a very loyal friend at your side, Lord Tyrion. You’re very lucky to have such friendship.”

Neither you nor Tyrion knew what to say to that. At least for a moment. Tyrion eventually had a response to everything.

“I choose my friends and allies well.”

No one could deny the double meaning in that. It was an offer to them more than it was a compliment to you.

“You do indeed.” Oberyn agreed.

Two more pieces to Tyrion’s game.

“You both are welcome to peruse the palace as you please, though I’m afraid I must steal away our Hawk. Please make yourselves welcome and do not hesitate to bother any of the servants should you need something.” Tyrion offered respectfully, ever the host to his new allies.

“Your hospitality is most appreciated, Lord Tyrion.” Both men have a small, respectful bow.

“We hope to see you soon.” Oberyn once again kissed your knuckles softly.

Tyrion had to do everything not to chuckle. That didn’t stop a stupid grin from forming on his face.

When the couple was out of earshot, you pointed a finger at Tyrion. “If I hear a single word about any of that I will be using you as target practice for the tournament.” You huffed.

Tyrion smirked. "Come now, my dear, having two incredibly attractive people want you like cats in heat is nothing to be ashamed or embarrassed about."

You huffed and stormed away. If Tyrion actually did need you, you would punish him by making him wait until tomorrow for whatever it was.

Curse them. Curse them with their stupid charm, their incessant flirtations, their dumb, pretty faces, their kind words, their alluring charisma...

What the hell were they doing to you?

————————— Cersei waited patiently in her room. She had neglected a few royal duties all for this. Her nails tapped on the table, then quickly stopped when she heard the door to her chamber open.

“Well?” She asked sharply.

The blond-haired boy failed to control his nerves under the queen regent’s gaze. “The Silver Hawk has captured the interest of Prince Oberyn and his paramour Ellaria Sand. The assassin has not outwardly verbalized her affection towards the Dornish, but she was seen in the courtyard on Lady Ellaria’s arm.”

Cersei took a moment to consider this. You never showed any outward affection towards anyone except her brother, and she couldn’t do anything about that, not while her brother was being protected under Tywin. But she could do something to you. You were only under the protection of Tyrion, which meant very little to her. Her father she had to obey, her brother she did not.

“Keep track of her. They don’t call her the Silver Hawk for nothing. She has a sharp eye, make sure you stay out of sight while you spy on her. If she finds you, you run. If I find out she spotted you, you will be executed. Do I make myself clear?” Cersei asked, having no concern for the man who was her own blood, her cousin.

“Y-yes, my lady.” The boy gulped before taking his cue to leave.

The queen stirred about in her chamber, her thoughts were only composed of how best to take revenge on you.

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Tag List (if I’m missing someone please let me know!)

@ilikechocolatemilkh @rpcvliz @janelongxox @evyiione @grogusmum

#armor #oberyn x reader #oberyn x you x ellaria #oberyn x reader x ellaria #ellaria sand #game of thrones #game of thrones fic #got #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fic #prince oberyn #oberyn martell imagine

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potter-imagines · 4 years

Text

George Weasley Dating Ravenclaw!Reader Would Include...

- George loves to take photos of you

- Like absolutely adores it

- His side of his dorm has at least ten different pics of the two of you taped to the walls

- Fred never misses an opportunity to taunt George for this

- “Jesus, George, you’d think you’re an obsessive stalker with the amount of photos you have of Y/n. Kinda of concerning…”

- George brings you home for Christmas break

- Molly adores you- like is way more excited to see you walking through the front door, rather than her actual children. “Y/n! Oh, Y/n, dear, you look beautiful! Come inside! Out of the cold you go- I’ve got a warm cup of tea waiting for you, dear.”

- Fred would walk in behind you rolling his eyes mumbling, “Good to see you too, birth giver. I missed you as well, love you too.”

- Pulling all nighters with him

- Some were for studying, some just to spend some more time with each other, and some because you two couldn’t seem to uh, ‘fall asleep’ or rather, keep your hands off one another

- If you didn’t know how to already, George would teach you how to play Quidditch

- You’re typically the little spoon and even though he’d never mention in aloud, he secretly loved when you were the big spoon

- When you first started dating, George’s friends would tease him for being with a Ravenclaw

- They classed you as a stereotypical Ravenclaw, before even speaking with you

- Fred reassured them they’d like you but Ron was skeptical

- Mostly because he couldn’t understand why a Ravenclaw was dating his brother

- Although you were a true Ravenclaw at heart, that didn’t mean you were a bookworm ‘nerd’ who only cared about school and had your nose to the sky

- Most Ravenclaws you knew were more honest that stuck up, you had a tendency to say exactly what you thought

- And George loved this

- He had never met a girl like you before- one who served it the teasing and flirtatious wilderness right back to him

- He’d plan extravagant jokes with his twin to try an woo you

- Your friends would giggle and whisper whenever George came around, all staring at you knowingly

- They had all placed bets on how long it would take George Weasley, the jokester Gryffindor, to ask you, the clever and competitive Ravenclaw, out on a date

- It only took about two weeks after that for him to make the first move

- After Potions class, George would walk with you in towards the Great Hall, complimenting you the entire way

- You two would sit together, much to your surprise and by the end of the meal, he would ask you out on a proper date for that weekend to Hogsmeade

- He’d buy magical eternal flowers at Hogsmeade on your first date

- Flirting doesn’t die down with George just because you’re a couple

- If anything, he becomes cheekier and touchier

- He isn’t huge on PDA, but he likes when you sit on his lap in the courtyard or either of your common rooms.

- PDA for the two of you is more hand holding, forehead kisses, arm around your shoulder, small pecks, tight hugs before class, etc.

- Snape had scolded the two of you more time than you could count “There will be no embracing of any sorts outside, or inside my class, Miss. Y/l/n and Mr. Weasley.” “Yes, professor. We’re sorry-” “No we’re-“ Having to drag George away before he gets you two into more trouble.

- He’d call you sweet names like; love, darling, princess, and angel (His favorite name to use in the bedroom.).

- But his absolute favorite nickname for you is “little Ravenclaw”

- He loves buying you maroon presents

- He likes to think he’s secretly converting you to a Gryffindor, but he knew you had too much pride for your house and would never fully switch to his side

- You two will play childish games like hide and seek around the castle during the weekends

- It’s more fun when you include your other friends

- But when it’s just you and George playing

- The game typically ends with the two of you half naked in an empty classroom

- Walks behind you up the stairs so he can pinch your butt “George- knock it off!” “But it’s so cute and I wanna touch it.” “Not now.”

“So you’re saying there will be a later, right?”

- Studying together

- Despite common assumption, George Weasley is exceptionally brilliant

- You two have competitions on who can score the highest mark

- George was usually a point or two away from you but it didn’t stop you from gloating

- “Ha, ha, Georgie. Take that! Now you owe me a back massage and a butterbeer this weekend!” “I can give you more than a backrub, darling.” “George!”

- Sneaking him into the Ravenclaw towers past curfew

- He loves that you are willing to break rules for him

- It exhilarating to you both

- You’re very close with his friends- especially Fred and Hermione

- Fred and George would convince you to help them with pranks, little at a time

- But soon enough

- You’d basically becoming a trio

- They’d find a way to drag you into planning and executing nearly all their pranks with them

- It made you extremely nervous at first

- You had never been in real trouble before, and it wasn’t something you desired

- But George would reassure you constantly “Love, you don’t have to help if you don’t want to, we won’t be upset. But if you do, I won’t let anything happen to you or let you get caught. I promise, darling.”

- And he never failed to keep his word

- Until one day

- There was one time, late winter of your final year

- Fred and George were readying to leave Hogwarts to open their shop, Weasley Wizard Wheezes, and had invited you to join them

- You contemplated the thought for a week before deciding to finish off the end of your year, then move in with George and his brother once summer came

- The twins’ pranking antics had grown more intense since Umbridge arrived

- Everyone despised her- well except the Slytherin’s who she favored

- The twins’ landed themselves in detention with her on more than five occasions and they had enough

- Late one Saturday in February, Fred and George had enchanted a portal swamp outside Umbridge’s office door, a spell you had taught them

- Right as the swamp appeared, footsteps began to approach quickly from behind

- Fred darted left and George took off after him, both assuming you’d follow

- But panic hit and you ran in the opposite direction, smacking right into Filch, Umbridge emerging not long after from the other corridor

- You were caught red handed, Umbridge took the wand in your grip as enough evidence to prosecute you

- George had reached the end of the corridor when he turned around and realized you weren’t behind him but by the time he and Fred stealthily snuck back to Umbridge’s office

- The door was swinging shut

- And the once bubbling green swamp was gone

- Not long passed before George could hear your voice and his chest stiffened at once

- The twins hid behind a wall, until George ushered Fred off to monitor the hall leading towards their common room

- Ten or so minutes passed until the door squeaked open and you quickly rushed off, salty tears threatening to spill over your eyes

- George yanked you softly from behind a wall before you could make it up the first step of the shifting stairs

- You hissed in pain when his fingers unknowingly wrapped around your fresh wound “Ow, my hand- George it hurts.”

- His eyes would widen, then soften with comfort as he studies your hand “Darling, I’m so sorry. I should’ve taken the fall- I should’ve realized you weren’t following us and went back sooner. I’m so sorry, Y/n.”

- You’d cry, not because you were mad at him or blame him but because of the never ending burning sensation in your bloodied hand

- You’d reassure him and insist it was your own fault

“I froze, Georgie. I’m the only one to blame. I don’t know why I didn’t go the same way as you guys, I just got scared of getting caught… and now this happened cause I was dumb.” “You’re not dumb, darling, don’t say that. I promised to never let you get hurt because of one of our pranks and I broke that promise. Umbridge is a cold bitch, I can’t keep putting you in these risks situations and letting you get hurt.”

- He’d sneak you into his dorm that night

- None of his friends would oppose, especially after hearing about what happened

- Fred and Lee slept on the large couches in the common room so the two of you could have the night alone

- George is an amazing cuddling partner- like the best

- You two would lay in his bed together, snuggled under a stack of blankets

- He’d convince you to wear one of his Gryffindor shirts

- Then take a picture of you in it when you weren’t paying attention to tease you with

- “I’m going to show this to all your little Ravenclaw friends to show them that you’re really a Gryffindor!” “Am not! I’m a Ravenclaw-“ “I’m gonna put some Gryffindor inside of you tonight, princess.” “You dirty bastard! Don’t you say that in front of any of my friends, please, I’m begging you.” “I’m sure they already know, love. It’s not like they haven’t heard us before.”

- You would get annoyed beyond beliefs after being with George for years and your friends still confusing him with Fred, or assuming they were the same person

- You loved Fred, but you were in-love with George, and there were many differences between them besides your relationship status

- Fred was the friend who could cheer you up, listen to you rant, help you get revenge on a professor for poor marks, hangout with you, give you advice, and all the great qualities that a best friend should have

- But George Weasley

- George was all of the above and more

- He had a different thought process- slightly different mindset than his twin

- You loved the deep, intellectual conversations you could have with George

- One moment you two would be discussing the purpose of life and the origination of languages

- Then the next you’d be debating over the worst flavor of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans

“George, how you can you even argue this? You know vomit and rotten egg are the two worst flavors!” “Vomit, yes. Rotten eggs, no. I’d take that over earthworm. Now that one is bloody disgusting!”

- There was a connection- a magnetic pull that drew you and George together

- He understood you on a more personal level than any other person you knew

- There were secrets he’d share with you late at night that not even Fred knew

- Like how he wanted to be a Mediwizard up until his fourth year

- George would bring you books he’d read on break for you

- You two liked to start a book together right before break, then finish over break and talk about it once you returned to each other

- Fred would tease George relentlessly for reading over the holiday break “God, next thing I know you’re going to starting knitting sweaters with each other and painting your nails together.” “Jealous, Fred? A shame you can’t find an intelligent girl of your own but don’t be made that I have.”

- George will write you letters when you’re away for each other

- He’ll do cute little things like send a single dainty flower that he picked from his mom’s garden and seal it inside the envelope

- His favorite to gift you are lilacs- the smell reminds him of you and is comforting when you’re gone

- He’s always been a bit more in touch with his emotional side than his twin

- But you loved those differences

- You two hard a pretty serious relationship from the start but that didn’t mean you weren’t playful

- Both George and you knew you wanted to spend forever together the first time you walked through Hogsmeade together

- And neither of you wanted to waste anytime fooling around when you knew what you wanted

- George is a honest gentleman, always putting your needs first

- Even after you leave Hogwarts with the twins

- With all his busy work and the booming business and success of the shop, you assumed your time together would be spared

- It was in a way

- But George always put in the extra effort to keep the spark alive

- Before opening the shop, he’d usually try to set your alarm clock back three hours in hopes of you getting the extra sleep he knew you deserved

- Sometimes it worked, but other times you’d meet him in the shop at open with a smug smile on your face “Love, you should be asleep! You’re too clever, little Ravenclaw.” “You still call me that, even after all this time?” “You’ll always be my little Ravenclaw. I could never love another.”

- He’ll surprise you during work with random sweets, sentimental cards, picking you up lunch and a coffee/tea, and buying you flowers

- George can be extremely sweet when he wants to and for you, there is never a moment where he doesn’t

- The two of you would get married shortly after the second war ended, not that anyone was surprised.

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shroomcult · 3 years

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@soulxmakaweek

Day 4: Apologize

I fell way behind with Soma week because I got slammed with work and this monster of a fic took me too long to write.

Summary:

Maka comes to realize that Soul had never felt fully comfortable around Crona, and in ignoring this entirely - she unknowingly hurt her closest friend.

Special thanks to Tori @chichirichick (she betas all of my dumpster fires, bless her) for proofreading this mess of emotions and also to Zi @azroazizah for coming up with the concept for this fic.

**Disclaimer** This story is not about putting blame on Crona, but instead about acknowledging the fact that Soul went through trauma due to their actions and it was never taken into consideration by Maka before inviting them into their friend group. I'm not saying Crona didn't deserve support, but it's also completely valid for Soul - a victim of Crona - to not feel entirely safe around them regardless of their tragic background and circumstances. If Crona is a big comfort character for you and you feel you would likely be upset by this concept, then I recommend not reading it altogether. We all interpret things different and we're all entitled to our own opinions, and I'm not going to get in arguments with people over this.

It’d been a while since the Spartoi team was all together again.

After the fall of Asura, they really had no purpose to join forces as a team. No big baddie to unite them in ass-kickery.

The skies were blue again. There were still Kishin eggs to take down, and a shaky new diplomatic relationship with the witches to maintain as well.

Things were more or less … normal. Boring, even.

The only big difference Blackstar could discern was that nobody seemed to have time to just hang out and be friends anymore.

Kid was over his head with his new responsibilities, and while he was doing an admirable job filling his father’s shoes; there was a steep learning curve and his perfectionist tendencies only made it more challenging to overcome. He upheld a calm and collected demeanor in the public’s eyes, but Liz and Patty spent most of their time holding him together behind the scenes.

Soul and Maka were a different situation entirely.

It was odd enough to adjust to the recent change in the nature of their relationship. They claimed to be the same as they’ve always been - just Soul & Maka. Only, they grew much closer after the hardships they had endured both in the book of Eibon and on the moon.

They had been close to begin with, but this was a different kind of close. Stolen glances, hands reaching for each other when they thought nobody was looking. Blushing for almost no damn reason.

Something was going on between them - he could be sure of that.

More recently, however, Maka had been particularly obsessive about solving the dilemma of Crona’s entrapment on the moon. She was driving herself to a slow-burning insanity, considering every moment that she hadn’t rescued them yet to be a personal failure.

She’d been spending much of her time in the restricted section of the library, consuming every piece of relevant research for hours on end. Soul often stayed up there with her doing the same, or at the very least keeping her silent company when he was too burnt out to read anymore.

He’d also spent much of his extra time with Stein, training to perfect his sound-wave abilities into his own form of wavelength attack.

He’d been giving his all ever since making deathscythe status to hone his strength and better serve Maka. He’d even been able to hold his own for a surprising amount of time in the sparring ring against Blackstar, and that was a feat in and of itself.

All of the focus on Crona’s rescue had appeared to be wearing on him, though.

Soul may have accepted Crona into his friend group for Maka’s sake, even empathized with them - but he had never fully trusted the demon sword meister. Although Soul was outwardly friendly towards them, Blackstar noticed the way his friend had watched them like a hawk before they turned back to Medusa. He was always ready for a scenario like that because he had never felt entirely safe around them to begin with.

Not that Maka had bothered to even take Soul’s feelings into consideration before forgiving Crona on his behalf.

She couldn’t have possibly been that dense. She had to have been actively ignoring the signs of Soul’s discomfort because she couldn’t handle acknowledging them.

And now she was doing the same thing all over again even with Crona as far away as the moon. It was obvious that Soul was doing what he always did - shoving his own feelings aside in favor of Maka’s. The loyal mutt of a boy valued her wellbeing far above his own, that was for certain.

He just seemed so exhausted of it all now. Searching tirelessly with Maka for a solution that may not even exist took up much of his time and energy.

He never had the time to shoot hoops or play video games like he used to, and Blackstar was far above begging for his attention. He stopped even bothering to ask him.

Just for one night though, by some divine luck - everybody was willing to clear their schedule to have a late night dinner at the most beloved and heart-attack inducing burger joint in town.

Every member of Spartoi was crammed into the largest booth in the restaurant and their chatter was loud enough to fill the whole section.

There were multiple conversations happening at a time, but Blackstar was zeroing in on Soul who had his chin resting on his palm and that stupid, dopey look he got on his face when he was proud of Maka. Yuck. Keep it in your pants, loverboy.

Maka was next to Soul, his arm stretched out behind her on the booth, while Ox engaged her in a fiery debate over god knows what across the table from her. Judging by the redness in baldy’s face - Maka was on the winning side. He really couldn’t understand Soul’s hard-on for a bossy know-it-all personality, but whatever floats his boat he supposed.

He decided he’d seen enough of that look on his best friend’s face and crumpled up a straw wrapper, dipping it in his soda and sticking it at the end of his straw.

He blew on the other end, sending the sticky wad of paper flying across the table. The projectile hit its target directly on the cheek.

“Fuck’s sake dude, how old are you?” he grumbled, reaching over the table to grab a handful of napkins to clean his face off with.

Maka snatched some of his napkins for herself, rubbing it vigorously into the flecks of cola that stained her uniform. “You got my shirt all wet, idiot.”

Blackstar simply threw his head back to cackle obnoxiously. “I just thought I should break up your lame little debate team fight before Ox over here pops a blood vessel. You know he can’t handle losing well.”

“I wasn’t losing!” Ox hissed under his breath.

Maka only met her opponent’s glare with a shit-eating grin.

“Hey, Maka! What had you stopped to talk with Professor Stein about earlier today?” Tsubaki cut in, obviously attempting to diffuse another argument between the two competitive brainiacs.

Maka’s expression relaxed into something a little more neutral, seemingly caught off guard by the question. Debate-mode successfully disarmed.

“Oh. Well… I just had some questions about my black blood research for him.”

Blackstar didn’t miss the way Soul tensed up beside her at the mention of black blood. His face was void of any distinct emotion, but something was off in his body language. The way his shoulders squared as if he were instinctively bristling.

Anyone with a shred of social awareness could have deduced that black blood, Medusa, and Crona were not Soul’s favorite topics. It wasn’t unusual for him to shut down and discontinue any contributions to a conversation when any of these things were brought up.

Unfortunately for Soul, all of those subjects were constantly on Maka’s mind since she began her obsessive pursuit for a solution to Crona’s ordeal.

“Oh? And what did he have to say?” Tsubaki pressed, completely oblivious to the tense situation she was potentially triggering.

“As you’re already aware, there’s not really any official research on the black blood that exists. We’ve been digging through countless books - gathering as much information about madness and Kishins as we can, but it can only get us so far. It would be so much more useful if we could get our hands on a physical sample of the substance itself.”

Soul’s eyes widened in concern, but only for a second before he slipped his usual poker face back on. His Adam’s apple bobbed nervously despite the veneer of calm he displayed.

“Anyways,” she continued, turning to look at Soul, “I was going to talk to you about this later, but maybe some of the black blood still remains in your system? I know we believed it was all gone, but surely there’s some residual amount of it lingering behind? Something we could maybe isolate, extract and create a concentrate of? Stein said it was unlikely, but technically possible. We have to try for Crona, right, Soul?”

He was no longer wearing his mask of apathy. Unmistakeable, visible discomfort was etched into his facial features and he was clenching his hands, knuckles whitening from the pressure. Everyone at the table was hushed and the tension was palpable.

“He doesn’t have to try anything,” Kid’s voice cut sharply through the silence, golden eyes flashing sternly at her.

A soft gasp escaped her and her eyebrows shot up, clearly taken-aback by the sudden burst of hostility from her boss and close friend. Her eyes darkened seconds later, determination setting in.

“I think that’s his decision to make, and I’d like to hear what he has to say,” she turned her attention back to Soul, hope still shining in her eyes.

He fidgeted with his necktie, loosening it and clearing his throat. “Yeah, s’fine. Whatever you need, I guess.”

Maka’s face lit up into a bright smile that turned Blackstar’s stomach and she pulled Soul into a brief hug. “I knew we could count on you, Soul! You’re the best partner ever.”

“Whatever, it’s no problem. Just try not to drain me of all my blood, alright?” he chuckled weakly, avoiding her eyes in favor of staring a hole in the middle of the table.

She gave an easygoing laugh in response, and went back to conversing with Tsubaki as if she hadn’t just pressured her partner into volunteering himself as a guinea pig for the sake of someone who had literally sliced him open from shoulder to hip and infected him with black blood to begin with.

Is she fucking serious?

Blackstar was practically vibrating with fury from the interaction he’d just watched, and Tsubaki’s normally soothing hand on his shoulder did little to calm him down. When he glanced at Kid, he instantly knew the death god had shared his frustration with Maka’s obliviousness.

It wasn’t long before Soul abruptly stood from his place at the end of the booth, pulling a twenty out of his wallet and placing it on the table in front of him.

“Soul? What are you doing? The food hasn’t even gotten here yet,” Maka blinked at him in confusion.

“I’m not feelin’ too great - gonna head out, sorry guys. Could you just bring my food back in a to-go box?” he said with an apologetic quirk of his lips. He squeezed her shoulder gently before turning on his heels and making his way out of the diner in long strides.

Why does she look so shocked? Does she really not understand that she’s been hurting him?

After that, the night passed by in a haze for Blackstar. He hardly spoke for the rest of the meal due to the fact that he was using all of his mental capacity to keep his impulse to stand up and loudly call his friend out in front of everybody in check.

The only thing truly stopping him was the knowledge that Soul would likely be embarrassed and more than a little pissed off if he’d made a big scene over something that he wasn’t even willing to talk about.

So he waited - held his tongue until he could lash out in private.

As everyone was saying their goodbyes, Blackstar watched her rise from her seat gathering her to-go boxes carefully and giving him a nod of acknowledgement before she headed out.

His eyes bore into the back of her head as she left, and Tsubaki’s hand clamped gently on him for the second time that night. Her eyes were crinkled with a gentle concern.

“I think you should leave this between them. If Soul wanted all of this out in the open, he would have had that conversation with her himself.”

A heavy sigh settled in his chest, “You know how he is. He’s the suffer in silence type and he always does her bidding. If nobody says anything, then nothing’ll change. I just want to talk to her - not like I’m gonna beat her ass or anything … unless she gives me a reason to.”

“Blackstar,” she chided, fully aware that he would make good on that threat.

“I know, I know. I won’t be long, see ya at home,” he said, throwing up placating hands before stuffing them in his pockets and striding in the direction Maka had gone.

_______________________________________________

Maka set her walk home at a leisurely pace, dragging her feet slightly as she watched the sunset bleed into the sky above.

It wasn’t that she was trying to prolong seeing Soul, or that she wasn’t worried about the way he’d acted back in the diner - like something was eating at him.

She was pretty positive that he wasn’t physically ill, which only left the option of it being an emotional issue.

And getting Soul to talk about emotional issues was like trying to pull teeth from a temperamental bear.

She had to figure out a way to go about this delicately, and she had to figure it out soon because their apartment block was fast approaching.

She stopped in her tracks when she felt the presence of a familiar soul behind her. His steps had been so quiet, she wouldn’t have even been aware he was stalking her from behind if it weren’t for her exceptional soul perception abilities.

“I know you’re following me, Blackstar.”

In moments, he was stepping out in front of her. “Wasn’t trying to hide. I need to talk to you,” his voice was uncharacteristically stern.

She wasn’t stupid. She knew Blackstar had some kind of problem with her since dinner. He was deathly quiet and glowering at her for most of the night; very unusual behavior from someone who never shuts up or hesitates to start a fight.

“Okay, I’m listening,” she said, already preparing to defend herself against whatever absurd argument he wanted to pull her into.

“The whole situation with Crona - have you ever once thought about how Soul feels about it?”

Whatever she had been expecting to come out of his mouth - that wasn’t it.

“What? I mean, I know how Soul feels. He wants Crona to be safe, just like I do. What are you trying to get at?”

“I’m not talking about what he thinks about Crona being stuck in the deathdamned moon, Maka! I mean have you ever thought about how he felt when you forced Crona into his life to begin with? After being sliced open?”

Maka’s eyebrows shot up to her hairline and her mouth opened and closed a few times, baffled by the question.

“Soul understands why I welcomed Crona as a friend. He trusts me,” she answered, hoping her voice conveyed the confidence that she couldn’t find in this moment.

This entire conversation was throwing her off.

“Yeah, okay. He accepted your decision because he trusts you, or loves you or whatever the fuck. We all know that - but that doesn’t mean he was comfortable with it. It doesn’t mean he felt safe. He just stuffed his own feelings down, because he knew it made it easier for you.”

Her throat tightened as her own conflicting emotions overcame her. He had no idea what he was talking about. Soul was fine. He’s always been fine.

“Did he say that to you? That he didn’t feel safe?” she choked out.

“Soul? You think he tells people things? About his feelings?” he snorted. “No, he doesn’t have to tell me shit. It’s clear on his face every time you mention Crona, or Medusa, or that fucking blood.”

“Maybe you’re just making assumptions about how he feels!” she shouted back, gripping handfuls of the front of his shirt.

He leaned in, completely unfazed by the rage burning in her eyes. “You ever noticed how when Crona was around, he was always watching them out of the corner of his eye - twitching every time they made some sudden move. You ever noticed how quiet and withdrawn he’d get around them? Or any time they were brought up? You didn’t - because you didn’t want to.”

“Shut up! Y-you’re making something out of nothing. Are you trying to tell me that I should just give up and forget about Crona? That they don’t deserve to have a friend?”

Some of his aggression was fizzling out as he released a heavy sigh, placing his hands calmly over hers, still clenching in his shirt. “I’m not trying to say that you shouldn’t have helped Crona, or that you shouldn’t keep trying to help them now. I’m only telling you that even if Soul has forgiven and moved on - he’s still a victim of Crona’s actions. He suffered trauma from that, even if he’s too fucking stubborn to admit it. Just acknowledge that maybe he needs a break from thinking about them - all of that shit that happened - every now and then. Get your head out of Crona’s ass long enough to check if he’s okay too.”

She stumbled over wordless sounds as her hands went limp and released their vice-grip on his clothing. She was trying desperately to think of a way to refute the awful things he was saying, but Blackstar wouldn’t give her the chance.

“If you gave him even half the thought you gave to Crona - maybe you would have noticed it like everybody else has. I just want you to think about it for a bit, that’s all,” his voice softened towards the end, shoulders sagging slightly as he turned away, leaving her to deal with the aftermath of his confrontation.

The heat of tears prickled behind her eyelids and she clenched her fists tightly to her sides.

She wanted so badly to swing around and scream at Blackstar’s retreating figure that he was wrong, that he had no idea what he was talking about and of course she thinks about her weapon.

But the longer she allowed his harsh words to sink in; the more she could feel the sting of truth settling into her heart.

Had she really been so blind?

_______________________________________________

Soul had been laying on his back in bed, hands resting on his stomach and eyes pointed at the ceiling, unmoving for some time. He wasn’t entirely sure how many hours, but he knew his playlist had ended long ago - no music played from the earbuds that were still jammed in his ears.

He couldn’t explain the heaviness in his heart. The anxiety that often set in whenever Maka mentioned Crona or the black blood. It was all water under the bridge, wasn’t it? There was no point in allowing himself to wallow in all the negative emotions that punched him in the gut at the mention of their name. It was selfish to feel those things - it was his job to give Maka his full support. His own feelings were irrelevant.

It was just harder on this particular night. Sure, she droned on about those sore subjects often. Their research revolved around it anyways. He’d just hoped that it could have been different just for one night.

He’d secretly been ecstatic when Maka begrudgingly agreed to shelve her research just long enough to get a late dinner with all of their friends. A break had been long overdue.

Things had been different between them, after all. They’d been sharing a bed, and they’d even shared a few kisses in the small, rare moments that they’d spent alone together - focused only on each other. They were chaste kisses, but he’d greedily take whatever he could get.

As she became more frantic about her lack of results in helping Crona, he may as well have not even existed to her.

He’d just needed that one dinner to pretend things were normal, to pretend as though he was on a date with her and she was willing to spend time with him and think about literally anything aside from her latest fixations. Instead, she’d asked him to play part in some unsound experiment - to prod for things that he hadn’t wanted to find again. It had only been made more uncomfortable by the scrutinizing presence of all of their friends.

He’d felt used.

Soul perked up at the familiar sound of the front door creaking open and slamming shut. He was immediately ashamed of the pavlovian response he had to the sound of his meister returning - the little flip in his heart that made him feel like a stupid dog wagging its tail at the sound of its master.

Just keep to yourself. She doesn’t need to interact with you in this useless state of self pity. You don’t deserve her comfort.

Self-loathing curled in his gut and he kept his eyes stubbornly trained on a water stain in the ceiling.

Suddenly, light flooded into his dark room as his door was hesitantly opened. He reflexively brought himself to sit up on his elbows only to meet a teary-eyed Maka.

All self-indulgent angsty thoughts instantly evaporated from his head, and he was ripping his earbuds out and swinging his legs over the side of the bed to get up.

She made purposeful steps across his room, throwing her arms around his neck and forcing him back onto the bed with the motion.

“I’m so sorry, Soul,” she warbled mournfully into his sweater.

“Huh? Sorry ‘bout what? What’s going on, Maka?” he tried to nudge her into looking up at him, but she adamantly refused.

She took a few shallow breaths before rubbing her wet cheek against the quickly-dampening fabric and looking up at him with dewy eyes.

“I haven’t been a good friend to you - have I?

Was that a trick question?

“I-I don’t get what we’re talkin’ about here,” he stuttered uselessly, attempting to compensate for his lack of eloquence by brushing his fingers comfortingly through her soft hair.

“I never asked if you felt okay with Crona being around you. I never asked you if you forgave them at all - I just brought them into your space, your home. I just wanted them to have a chance at a normal life so badly - I ignored your pain, and I’m so sorry,” she rushed her confession out like it had been a breath she was holding in.

He had to fight the urge to bark out a laugh. It wasn’t that he found anything that she said humorous - it was just so strange that she was addressing this out of the blue. She’d seemed completely unaware as usual back at the diner, where had this even come from?

He was so lost in thought, he’d almost forgotten to respond and instantly regretted the prolonged silence he’d left her in. “Maka, it’s fine,” he insisted, “I get why you forgave Crona. I admire you for it.”

“But that doesn’t mean you were okay. I should have at least checked on you, or asked you about how you felt - or literally anything,’ she mumbled numbly from his chest.

“Hey. Look at me,” he said, lifting her cheek from its resting place against his sweater, “Sure, I didn’t feel the most comfortable around Crona. I think it was pretty awkward for both of us to be near each other. That doesn’t mean I dislike them, or didn’t want you to be their friend. You can’t beat yourself up over something I hadn’t bothered to tell you.”

His words hadn’t brought the comfort that he’d hoped they would, and her brows remained stubbornly crinkled. “If it had been me - if I was the one who’d been cut by that sword, would you still say that you don’t dislike them? That you’re okay with us being friends?”

It was a question that he instantly knew the answer to, but he was reluctant to say it out loud. He finally caved, bringing his eyes back to hers, “No. I wouldn’t have been able to forgive them if it was you.”

She closed her eyes tightly, nodding her head in grim acceptance of that truth. She had likely known that would be his answer already, but hearing it must have been difficult.

“But I love that about you. You have so much compassion. I only care for the few people that I’ve decided I love - I don’t have room in my heart for others like you do. I’d like to be more like you,” he whispered reverently, taking her cheeks in both of his hands and briskly wiping away all of the moisture he could reach with his thumbs.

“I should’ve had more compassion for you,” she lamented softly under her breath, eyes downcast.

“You’re not a fuckin’ mind reader, Maks. It was my choice not to bring anything up.”

She nodded slowly, but the way her grip tightened on him only confirmed his suspicion that she wasn’t going to forgive herself for it.

Minutes passed before a word was spoken, but Soul eventually cleared his throat. “You know, I don’t expect you to ever stop being friends with Crona, or to give up on rescuing them. I don’t want that. I don’t mind helping you like you’d asked earlier tonight, too. If that’s what you need from me, then I’m here.”

She brought herself to her elbows on top of him to get a better view of his face.

“I know. I’m not going to give up on them. But It matters to me that you’re happy too, and if that means you need a break from all that, then I want you to know that it’s okay to ask for that.”

“Right, I’ll keep that in mind,” he said in a hushed tone, distracting himself with a piece of her hair twirled between his fingers.

“And I don’t want to use your blood for research. It was wrong of me to even think of asking you that. We’ll find another way,” she assured him, voice tightening with emotion, “I definitely got carried away with all of this. It wasn’t healthy, and I really am sorry I’ve pushed you away in the process. We can’t solve this thing if we don’t have time to properly take care of ourselves. You’ve been working so hard with me, and I think we need more actual quality time together.”

“Yeah, I could get on board with that. I kinda walked out on dinner tonight, so how about we do something - just you and me tomorrow? Movies sound good?”

“Movies sounds great,” she hummed in agreement, hands idly playing with his hair.

As much as he would have preferred for her to continue her ministrations, he stopped her movements to grasp her hand, bringing it to his chest to rest above where she knew his scar was. He pressed down on her hand lightly.

“I’m glad it happened. I’m glad they gutted me, ‘cause I hadn’t understood what you meant to me till that moment,” he muttered, pressing a quick kiss to the top of her head.

She only exhaled shakily, hand tightening against the evidence of his devotion.

“I just hate that it took a lecture from Blackstar of all people for me to realize that I’d been hurting you.”

His eyes widened a little at that new piece of information. Blackstar was the one that brought all of this on her mind? He could’ve sworn it would have been Kid if anyone. He couldn’t help but feel a little touched that Blackstar had been so concerned about him, but he was also somewhat irritated that his friend had distressed Maka as much as he had.

“Blackstar, huh? Remind me to have a conversation with him about mindin’ his own business,” he laughed half-heartedly.

“No, don’t. I’m glad that he said what he did - I needed to hear it,” she urged him.

“Doesn’t matter. He didn’t have to make my girlfriend cry from guilt over bein’ friends with someone,” he muttered, but his face immediately burned a bright red as soon as he’d caught what he’d called her.

She was a similar shade, holding her breath as well as his gaze with a tortuously difficult to decipher expression on her face.

“That is, uh- I mean… fuck.”

Very articulate. Great job, Soul.

He hadn’t needed to agonize over whether or not he’d just fucked everything between them for long because her face soon melted into a warm, genuine smile.

“Girlfriend, huh?” she said with a glimmer of mischief in her eye.

“I’d like that. If that’s w-what you want,” he wanted to kick himself for the voice crack he just experienced. Not cool in the slightest.

At least she got a good giggle out of it. The melodic sound squeezed something in his chest and he swallowed nervously as a response.

She brushed back his bangs, leaning in to place a soft kiss to his forehead. She peppered a trail of kisses down his cheek until she reached his lips.

This kiss was far from chaste. She cradled his cheek and jaw as she slanted her mouth sweetly over his, pressing fervently, constantly moving against him and eliciting a breathy moan from him that he would never admit to making.

When she tried to separate, he followed her, bumping noses for a moment and giving the corner of her mouth a few more enthusiastic pecks before backing up and allowing her room to look at his face.

“Girlfriend sounds nice, actually,” she smiled broadly, letting her fingers brush against the back of his neck.

“Glad that’s settled, then,” he laughed easily, not even bothering to feel any embarrassment over the flush of his skin or the lightness of his breath.

He crushed her to his chest, and they stayed like that for a while, just listening to the other’s loudly beating hearts until they were lulled to sleep.

He’d have to thank Blackstar with a game of basketball later.

#SoMaWeek2021 #SoulxMakaweek #soul eater #soul evans #soul eater evans #maka albarn #soul x maka

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furikakyo · 3 years

Text

a return to roots | 4

pairing: kita shinsuke x f!reader

summary: y/n is a rising star in the music industry, having almost everything you could have ever hoped for as a small-town country girl. now after releasing two triple platinum albums in consecutive years, you face the dreaded artist’s burnout… in order to recover, your manager suggests, you should return to your hometown in hyōgo for a long-deserved break.

genre: socmed/smau, slice of life

warnings/tags: timeskip!, mutual pining, slow burn? more like rekindling, slight canon divergence

masterpost

If you were to be completely honest, you'd wanted to wear a dress you’d been allowed to keep after a photoshoot. However, it wasn't a good look for someone of your status to re-wear outfits, especially statement pieces. You couldn't remember who had designed it, but it had been mostly tulle and made you feel like a princess... all things that could not be used to describe what you were wearing now. For your dinner plans, you chose to wear a simple yet smart-looking bodycon dress, one that you were regretting as you stepped out of the car. You pulled at the hem from over the long coat you wore, conscious of the fact that there could potentially be paparazzi waiting to snap a photo of you from an unfortunate angle if you weren't paying close attention. Unlike American paparazzi, reporters here didn't flock at the entrances of exclusive clubs or restaurants, but it never hurt to be cautious.

"I won't need a ride home," you told Ichiro, who nodded stiffly and then shut the door of the car after you got out, “I can get a ride home."

You adjusted the sunglasses on the bridge of your nose, aware that you looked out of place in the nightlife, and then walked to the doors of the hotel. A concierge opened the door to greet you and Ichiro, who trailed behind, scanning the area. "Welcome, Miss. Your party called ahead and made us aware of the arrangements to be made. You can follow me to the elevator, where I will escort you to your destination."

"Thank you," you said coolly, then took after them. While in the elevator, the concierge spoke nervously, emphasizing how much of an honor it was for someone like you to visit their establishment. You smiled politely, silently willing the elevator to reach the right floor faster.

A restaurant specializing in molecular gastronomy, Kuroo had explained to you on the phone the night before. He'd sounded probably the most excited you'd ever heard him. You had looked it up yourself after the call had ended. It was on the 29th floor of a luxurious hotel, one that you had never been to yourself. Only eight people max were allowed to dine in, and the chef made all of the food in front of you, four courses.

You were dragged out of your thoughts when the elevator finally dinged and the concierge guided you to the glass doors of the restaurant, where Ichiro recognized the occupants and left you alone to be greeted by Kuroo, Lev, his sister Alisa, and, surprisingly, Kenma. You took off your sunglasses and slipped them into the pocket of your coat before that too was taken by a waitress, who calmly swept them away from you and into a closet, presumably.

"Hi, guys!" you gave a bright smile and then slipped into the empty seat in between Kenma and Alisa.

"We thought you might want to sit next to Alisa," Kenma explained quietly, tugging on the collar of his dress shirt.

You smiled again, settling into the chair. "Thanks," you nodded your head. "You look nice, too, Kenma! You're all dressed up!"

Kuroo leaned back to make eye contact with you, laughing. "He almost cancelled on dinner plans with us when he heard that he couldn't wear his sweatpants. He lives in sweatpants exclusively."

Kenma sighed, muttering under his breath, "Maybe I wouldn't if you didn't make a big deal about whenever I'm not." Only you heard his comment, since he was on the edge of the table, but you didn't have any time to reply because the head chef came out of the kitchen, accompanied by a couple of workers behind him, holding the ingredients.

One by one, each round of dishes came and went. Earlier, you'd been worried about wearing a bodycon dress because of the impending food baby you were sure to conceive, but with only dessert left, your stomach felt hardly filled with the sizes of the previous dishes. The process of making each one was mesmerizing to watch, and the flavor profile of each small bite was beyond anything you could have initially imagined when the plates were gently placed in front of you-

You watched the chef spoon generous amounts of black caviar onto the dish. Not dessert, you corrected yourself. Why did you assume to get a deconstructed piece of fried dough when they had called the dish "Donut"? You eyed the tweezers which carefully placed tiny, delicate flowers on top of the spread. A single waiter poured out flutes of champagne and then distributed them to you and your friends, the only noise in the room the fizzing of bubbles in your drink. In fact, the entire affair had been silent aside from the head chef, who explained each meal to your group.

Once the waiter and chef cleared the room, Lev was finally the brave soul to break the silence, who cleared his throat and then, turning to you, asked, "So Y/N, you're moving back home, huh? Is there anything to even do there?”

You knew Lev didn’t mean to say anything offensive, but it still stung a little. He was just blunt to a fault sometimes, you reminded yourself, instead giggling and sending some witty remark back at him which made everyone burst into laughter. You shivered a little, finished the last of your remaining champagne in one undignified gulp, then stared out at Tokyo's skyline, shining and glittering like stars. It was cold in the room, you decided. Ridiculously air-conditioned to the point where you would be glad when you got your coat back and could leave.

The rest of the get-together flew by, only spending a little longer in the restaurant before exiting into the lobby. Kuroo had agreed to drive you back to your apartment, since he'd taken his own car and hadn't drank a lot. Lev gave you a bear hug and told you he would miss you, and that he would try to visit if his modeling schedule worked out in favor of it, but he wasn't sure. Alisa also hugged you tightly, telling you to take care of yourself in the countryside, to which she wrinkled her nose at playfully. When it came to Kenma you refrained from a hug, knowing that he didn't like physical contact. He gave a small smile, appreciative. "I might visit sometime; we can play Animal Crossing."

Then, just like that, the three of them left, Lev and Alisa taking the same car and Kenma having a driver. Kuroo turned to you and raised an eyebrow. "Well? Ready to go?"

You nodded, following him to the front where a valet had already pulled Kuroo's car to the curb, waiting for the two of you. Once inside, you pressed your forehead to the cool window, your breath fogging up the glass. Kuroo made no comment, the only sound to be heard the traffic in the streets.

For what seemed like a few minutes later, you felt yourself being gently shaken awake. "Y/N?" Slowly, you roused, rubbing at your eyes sleepily. You froze, sitting up. Shit, you'd had mascara on.

"Y/N?"

You turned to see Kuroo looking slightly concerned, but you just waved your hand at him. "I'm awake now. Thanks for the ride."

He stared at you, opened his mouth, then shut it promptly, stopping you from opening the car door. You rarely saw him speechless or without something to say. "What's wrong?" You frowned, trying to think of what could be worrying him or making him act like this.

Kuroo shook his head then leaned back in his seat. He scratched the back of his head and looked down. "I'm not sure how to say it, so I'm just going to say it." Immediately you felt dread in the pit of your stomach. Oh, god. Did he have, like, a middle-school crush on her? Was he tongue-tied? You did not want to lose one of your closest guy friends; plus, if you weren't friends with him anymore then you couldn't really be friends with Kenma-

"I'm worried about you, Y/N. Just... take care of yourself in Hyōgo, alright? You're there for a reason; to take a break." He ran a hand through his hair again, nervously. "You know what I'm saying? So just take care of yourself. Don't eat junk food all the time, it's not good for you. Also don't stay indoors all the time, it's good to get outside. You need to synthesize vitamin D," Kuroo rambled, "it's good for your skin, too-"

Finally you broke your silence, smiling and laughing at him. "Aw, Kuroo, you nerrrd," you socked him on the arm, evoking an 'ow' from him. "You're so sweet, what the hell? And don't worry, I'll be fine! I'm great at taking care of myself!" You gave him a thumbs up. When he looked at you dubiously, you added on, "Kaa-san and Tou-san don't live too far from where we used to live, so I can go to them if I need to, too." After a pause, more giggles bubbled out. "I thought- I was really scared that you liked me," you cackled, going into hysterics when he made a face. "I know, I know- I just got worried because I didn't know what you were going to say."

Kuroo rolled his eyes. "Uh, no, I don't like you. Not even platonically, after this," he grumbled, already getting into his theatrics. "I can't believe you're harassing me for caring. You're awful, Y/N!"

You opened your car door, still laughing. "Ok, ok, I'm awful, I'll admit it." You shut the door, and Kuroo rolled down the window.

"Whatever. Just make sure Osamu is driving safely. And text us when you get there. And," he levelled his gaze with yours, "do whatever you feel is best about Kita. Hopefully you take this break to sort through your feelings." Without giving you any time to retort something, Kuroo peeled off in his car, leaving you alone.

Quickly, you made your way into your apartment and finally took off your heels, leaving them near the entrance and sighing when you could walk flat-footed on the cool floor. Next you took off your coat and threw it on the couch, and instead of getting ready to sleep, jumped into your bed and face-planted into the pillows.

You fell asleep in less than five minutes.

You sent your Hyōgo address to Kenma and then flopped on your bed, accidentally banging your head on the headboard. “Fuck,” you hissed, clutching the back of your head. You sat there for a few moments, lamenting why you had to jump onto the bed and how the consequences of your action hurt so bad.

Then your stomach rumbled, begging to be filled, and you forgot everything you had been thinking about, making your way into the kitchen. You opened the fridge, peering in at the contents- or rather lack thereof. At least you didn’t have to worry about clearing your fridge by tonight, right?

Your stomach growled again as you shut the door, instead looking to the freezer. What did you have in there…? It slid open and you were glad to see that it wasn’t as empty as your fridge, rummaging through the frozen meals you had for a late-breakfast-early-lunch.

You pulled out a twelve pack of frozen gyoza and set it aside on the counter, pushing all of the other stuff back into the freezer. When you finally slid it shut again, you sighed in relief, and turned back to the food in question. You read the instructions on the back even though you were pretty sure it was easy to heat them up, and then turned the stove on. Pulling out a pot from your cabinet, you filled it with water and then set it on the stove, topping it with a lid to make the process faster.

Then you got to cleaning. Your apartment wasn’t all that messy since you didn’t spend a lot of time in it before going on hiatus, just a few stacks of paper filled with lyrics: some you’d tried working out, others hadn’t fit your two previous albums, but most you just didn’t like.

You checked on the pot of water to make sure it wasn’t boiling, and after seeing it wasn’t, you continued cleaning, moving into the kitchen once more. You scrubbed the plates and bowls you’d left in the sink for a couple days. Most of the stuff in the sink was silverware from eating takeout or having frozen meals, though.

When you heard and saw that the water was boiling, you added the gyoza and lowered the heat before going back to drying the dishes. By the time you were done with the task, your dumplings were ready, and so you turned off the stove and took the pot off. With a pair of chopsticks, you scooped up the gyoza and placed them onto a plate. You’d eat six and then leave the other half for dinner, you decided, putting them in a bento box for storage and then the fridge.

“Ah…” You sat down on the couch with your food and then turned on the TV, watching mindlessly and eating your gyoza one by one. After a couple of hours, you got up, washed and dried the dishes you’d just used, and then finally went to your room to pack.

Should you take all of your clothes with you? It’s not like you knew how long you were planning to stay in Hyōgo, so should you just pack everything, then? You opened up your closet all the way, clearing out the sections of your regular clothing and placing them on your bed. You turned back to your closet, now significantly emptier. All that was left were things you’d worn on tours or designer pieces you’d been allowed to keep. Most of them you could look at and remember the venues you’d worn them to; recall the quality of your performance and how big the crowd was. It would be pointless to take them with you, right? You couldn’t wear a custom Versace piece to the middle of nowhere.

You sighed and shut the closet door with a resounding thud, and then turned to face the monster pile of clothes you were going to try to fit into two large suitcases…

Ah shit, and you hadn’t even begun to think about shoes.

a/n: help the chapters keep getting longer even though i outline for this fic????? h o w

taglist (pm me to ask to be added): @papiibuprofen, @duhsies, @succulentmom

some ~fun facts~

- lev and alisa are models, as in canon

-the food was served in test tubes and other scientist apparatuses LMAO (kuroo got really excited because he’s a chem nerd)

- i based the restaurant off of an actual one in japan but changed some things about it... so for legal reasons™️ all similarities are a coincidence 🧍‍♂️

- i hope y/n doesn’t sound whiny but i find molecular gastronomy to be super esoteric,,, reminds me of that bar scene in parks and rec lmao

- kenma tucks his sweatpants into his socks like the wrestlers at my old high school do... this is unfortunately also canon...

- yaku couldn’t make it to the dinner event because he’s still in russia, playing volleyball there. he will be coming back to play for japan in the olympics!

- kuroo drives even though he drank a little... don’t do this

- kuroo is NOT interested in y/n romantically

- i made two kita shirts with my friends during a haikyuu watch party we had… my favorite one got a little messed up and i’m sad 😃 edit: i fucking hate it here they got put in the dryer without my consent and now they’re both ruined ❤️

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thoughts-on-bangtan · 3 years

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Let’s talk: Grievances and Cuteness - BTS on You Quiz on the Block

by Admin 1

Today BTS were guests on You Quiz on the Block, a very popular Korean variety show on tvN, and it was a wonderful mix of fun and hilarious, but also serious, vulnerable and honest. Seeing as we don’t have subtitles yet, merely the things our marvelous translator ARMYs managed to translate for us—the episode was 100 minutes long so there was a lot going on and being said—I don’t want to get into detail in this post and instead will wait with that until we have subs and I’ll be able to sit down and watch it properly again, focus on things that stick out to me and I would want to talk about. So that I can do their words justice.

Instead I want to use this post to air some of my grievances, directed at fellow ARMY, “ARMY” and shippers, as well as just gush a little about a few cute moments. The more serious things will be in a different post sometime soon. I hope that’s okay.

Grievances

What is the point of Bangtan going on a show like this, especially one that is broadcast on national TV and very popular with the general public? It’s to share not only their funny side but also their honest and genuine one, share stories that, though some we’ve heard before as ARMY, they’re things the general public doesn’t necessarily know. The point of them sharing vulnerable moments and memories with us is to simply be honest and transparent, something they’ve always highlighted as important to them.

What is the part we play in this, what is it that we should do? We are simply supposed to listen, understand the things they are telling us, put things into perspective so we know what they felt in certain moments and periods of their lives, understand that they’re human too with struggles, fears and sadness, and we should cherish the fact that they tell us any of it at all. They could just as well only show up whenever there’s a new album and comeback and then disappear again, share nothing personal at all and put on entirely fake personas. But they don’t. And we should be grateful for that and happy because of it.

Now, the reason why I even wanted to write this in the first place is this:

Many, and I mean many have decided that instead of doing what I’ve highlighted a moment ago, a far better course of action would be to twist their words, manipulate them, use them to victimize the members (and especially Seokjin), and try to overanalyze them in favor of their desired narratives and especially their ships, even if whatever was being said had absolutely nothing to do with any ship at all.

Before the episode even finished airing, solos/mantis were already up in arms “crying” about mistreatment and victimizing Seokjin because *insert demands they have no right to make at all* and when Seokjin, bless him, was on weverse, he actually replied to a post where he basically said that parts of what he said were too sad/depressing, so he simply asked the You Quiz staff to cut them out, which would explain why he seemed to have “less to say” during his interview section with Yoongi. Did that help? Of course not. Even though it showed not only that he did say more, that he likely said more vulnerable things, but also that he made the decision for himself that he did not want to share that yet, because he’s not ready for it or because he came to the conclusion that he simply doesn’t want to period, and that his wish for them to cut it out was met. Even though it wasn’t BH controlled content, but You Quiz.

More below the cut:

What does this tell us? The members have control over what is aired and what is not. If they feel something is too personal or would come across wrong, they can voice objection and chances are their words will be met and followed. They aren’t victims in need of saving, aren’t helpless boys with no idea what they’re doing. They are serious musicians, respected and treated well. This is a good thing and I’m glad he told us that, even if many don’t want to hear it and immediately claimed that “oh yeah BH told him to shut us up”. The mental gymnastics some are willing to do to make things fit their agenda truly baffles me sometimes.

On the other hand, I’ve seen shippers try to twist words or put others into the members mouths to push their agenda, and we’ve even had one or two asks being sent to us basically sadly wondering if maybe Tae isn’t who we thought he is for Jimin, and neither is Hobi, because of something Jimin said. Even though the thing Jimin said had quite literally nothing to do with either Tae or Hobi. In a way, I get where such vminnies are coming from, as vminnies we would love to just hear vmin talk about each other all day because it’s cute and we love their bond and stories, but it’s not like we didn’t get that. Because we did. Unprompted. Jimin mentioned Tae during their trio interview and told a story, even if we’ve heard it before to a certain degree. And yet it still wasn’t enough? Like come on, please don’t do this. Don’t reduce everything the members do and say to just ship related and non-ship related (thus uninteresting) statements and actions, as though the latter is worth less.

Here is the moment in question:

The way I see it, the only thing we should take away from this is that despite these very human fears and struggles, wonderings if people only care about Jimin because he is BTS Jimin and not Park Jimin, he still had and has good people in his life that’ll remind him that he is appreciated and loved for who he is, and not just for his celebrity status. Friends even outside of Bangtan. Why do we have to take something so incredibly personal, this moment of vulnerability from Jimin, and try to overanalyze it? To twist it to fit a ship? Regardless which one. Or to twist it to fit some kind of narrative, whatever one it may be? Please don’t do that.

Sure, Admin 2 noticed his use of ‘chingu’ when talking about this friend that told him that, and sure it reminded me of what Jimin said to Tae in the FESTA 2020 Rolling Paper, but neither Admin 2 nor I will go and claim that oh he must’ve been talking about Tae but didn’t want to use his name to avoid XYZ because we are not in his head and, at the end of the day, it’s irrelevant who exactly said that to him. That wasn’t the point of that story. Like at all. So why are some people disregarding the point in favor of speculations? Why are some completely ignoring his words, downplaying them as just potential ship material instead of appreciating the fact that he told us that at all?

It’s unfair toward Jimin, and the other members as well when they tell similar stories. Their lives aren’t fictional stories that revolve around romance. They are real people with real lives and more friends than just their fellow members and that’s a good thing since it surely gives them the opportunity to feel less isolated, cut off from the world by nature of their occupation and status. Besides, in the past Tae said something similar as well, how he used to be a social butterfly and make friends easily wherever they went but eventually he understood that people didn’t really care about Kim Taehyung and instead just wanted to know BTS V and be able to use that to brag, so he stopped being so outgoing. And we’ve also seen Jimin talk about cutting out friends in the past if they said something negative about Bangtan, then, a few years later, saying that he’s grown more as a person and learned to not allow these things to affect him as much, to surround himself with genuine people.

So, in light of what he said in that segment, we should be happy for him. And that’s it.

We also saw people use what Tae said about his dad to push the he must be 100% heterosexual because he said he wants to be a dad narrative which, where do I even start. Perhaps with the fact that this statement relies on a mistranslation? Because he didn’t say he wants to be a dad but that he wants to be a person like his dad, that’s his dream. Perhaps with the blatant homophobia this statement is laced in? The disregard for how queer people can also want to have kids, be parents, just like anyone else? Perhaps with how these things oddly seem to just be done to Tae and Namjoon, and especially Tae to use it for ship purposes?

Instead of jumping to conclusions, overanalyzing stories we are not supposed to analyze but instead to simply appreciate, please wait until we’ll have the full episode with subtitles (even though from the past we know that some of it may be simplified so reading what our translators wrote is also a good thing to get the whole picture) and even then, just enjoy their silliness and listen to their words of honesty. Listen to the fact that their fame was and continues to be a heavy weight on their shoulders, how instead of becoming cocky assholes they remained humble and genuine because that’s the kind of people they are and want to be, listen to what they want you to hear and now what you want to hear.

Also, to shippers—this isn’t the place to look for ship content of any kind, for some romantic confessions or whatever, because this was about Bangtan as seven members and their stories of the last ten and a half years since Namjoon joined BH and the idea for BTS was started.

Cute and silly things

Now that that's done, let’s talk about some fun and cute things to lighten the mood, shall we?

One of my favorite moments was when the MIC DROP ARMY came in as a surprise for the members, her confidence was off the charts and the guys looked so genuinely happy. After all it’s been so many months since they’ve last seen ARMY! And I’m so glad she was such a wonderful representative for us all, how she didn’t react with fear or shyness, didn’t scream or cry, but instead did her thing like a Queen. And the way the members reacted when she sent them a finger heart during one of the dances? Absolutely adorable!

Also, she truly must’ve saved some kind of nation, or maybe two, in her past life since she also was gifted a chicken leg pillow by Tae. He’s just so kind and lovely.

Then we had the members play a game of trying to guess a song merely by the first second (I think) and then having to sing it, though who sang which part didn’t follow the actual order in the song but was chosen by someone off screen which meant that, for example, Tae was doing one of the rap line verses as well as singing Jimin’s part in another, Hobi showed off his vocal skills, and of course, the highlight, Namjoon singing a part from Spring Day. Even though we know Namjoon’s skills when it comes to singing are not the greatest, which I mean in a very loving way, no tea no shade, and yet he still went for it. It was hilarious and cute and showed that he is willing to be silly even if others might laugh at his expense.

Sometime after the episode aired Namjoon actually came onto Weverse to talk about the episode and, among other things, apologized for not singing Seokjin’s guide all that well. One thing I’d like to point out is how, originally, he wrote Jinhyung but then changed it to Seokjinie hyung, which is just a small and precious little detail:

Another cute moment was during ‘dance mafia’ when Tae turned to Jimin to ask him if they did well and Jimin replied that yes, he did well (both using this adorably soft tone with each other), they also hugged for a moment while smiling brightly. See, I said not to look for ship moments, but this is just cute regardless if you ship vmin or not. Admin 2 though would like to comment on how they could’ve given us that hug from a camera that’s a little further away so we could have a more proper look, or a longer shot of it, please?

Honestly that game was hilarious and the members who were mafia did a wonderful job tricking the others, particularly JK was fantastic at it since the second time around no one suspected him at all. Also, the fluffy ear muffs with cat (?) ears on them were adorable. At the end of the segment they were all supposed to strike a pose but Tae didn’t manage to put his ear muffs back on, so they fell to the ground and so Jimin lightly hit/caressed his chest and turned toward the MCs to ask if they could try again so that Tae could look good in it as well.

Actually, speaking of adorable in regard to Jimin, when they were introduced at the beginning of the show as RM-jagi-nim, jagi-nim being the name used for all the guests on the show and also the name on the necklace (given to guests who are fans of the show by the producers) Jimin showed off on weverse in his selcas, Jimin corrected the MC that it’s not Jimin-jagi-nim but Mini-jagi-nim which just…my heart. Too cute.

Lastly, I want to mention how all of them were asked what the first sentence would be if their lives were a book and their answers were just so very…them.

Namjoon: Predictions in life often turn out to be wrong

Tae: I’m a chameleon

Hobi: Dear, people who’ve helped to lead me here

Yoongi: You lived life to the fullest/hard/well

Seokjin: Dope, worldwide class!

Jimin: What kind of life do you want to live?

Jungkook: Hello?

Overall it was an amazing episode that was so fun to watch even without really being able to understand any of what was being said. Still the members genuine personalities shone through brightly and I’m glad they had fun and felt comfortable, especially since it’s been a while since they were last on Korean variety shows and some of their past experiences were…not great. I can’t wait to watch it again once we have subs and to write a more proper post about it then. I hope you didn’t mind this more…serious and “angry” post and understand where I’m coming from with my complaints, but also that you enjoyed the cute moments I highlighted.

#BTS #BTS You quiz on the block #Namjoon #Seokjin #Yoongi #Hoseok #Jimin #Taehyung #Jungkook #vmin

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e-one-seven · 3 years

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(I hate being a literature student. Just know that literature students have a bad habit of over-analyzing stuff, and apparently D&D games are not exceptions.)

Normally I don't talk about ships. I think that everybody is free to ship whoever character they want with who they want and I am no one to judge them. Especially if the characters in question are from a live role playing game and one of the ships in question involves a couple controlled by a couple who is married IRL. But this one. Oh boy. Laura Bailey is an absolute beast and she deserves all the respect in the world if even a fraction of what I think it's happening/going to happen will effectively happen in game.

Fjord kissed Jester. He asked for her permission and he got it. It was beautiful. And I am genuinely freaking out because I knew that was going to happen and it's even worse than I imagined it. Why am I talking about it like it is something bad? Because it's possible that Jester is not ready to be in a relationship right now, and that Jester herself is not aware of it. Let's talk about it from the beginning.

Jester likes Fjord from the beginning of the campaign, we all know that. When Jester met Fjord for the first time, she was a sheltered girl who, in her head, just met the perfect man: a proud and strong sailor who wants to live an adventurous life just like the heroes of her novels, and she easily identified herself as the heroine the hero will inevitably fall in love with. They meet the rest of the Nein, live on their adventures and Jester keeps on acting like she is the Guinevere of her personal love story inside her head, while Fjord is blissfully unaware of what is happening inside the skull of his new friend.

Then Fjord meets Avantika, a mature woman who seems to share many traits and interests with him. Jester is clearly jealous, especially after that they sleep together to seal their alliance. That is also the moment when Jester starts to see Fjord's flaws and she seems to be willing to accept them, which is actually a point in favor for a possible relationship between them. But Fjord is still unaware of what the special attention of the blue tiefling actually means.

Then she meets a real married couple, and she starts to realize that romance is not always like she imagined it was. Nott/Veth and Yeza are married and have a child, and they are not as dependent to each other like the heroes of her novels: Nott does her own things and she is a strong independent woman and Yeza is pretty much the same, they are not allowed to be as intimate as they used to be because of "Nott's condition", but they still love and support each other through and through. And at this point, Jester starts to notice that there is a member of the Mighty Nein that seems to show her that unconditional love and support that Nott and Yeza radiate with every action: Caleb Widogast.

Caleb used to be a stinky wizard, a brash individual who joined the group just because he was too squishy to survive on his own. But ever since they are in Xhorhas, he cleaned himself, he is kinder with everyone and he wants to help her organize the Traveler Con even if the event has nothing to do with him directly. Jester is visibly touched by his newfound beauty and kindness. But he still loves Astrid. He called Jester with her name when they danced together in Hupperdook. And he seems to be interested in Essek Thyless too, so she is probably imagining it. The Mighty Nein travel, grow more powerful, and Fjord manages to set himself free from Uk'utoa's influence and becomes a Paladin of the Wildmother. He finally becomes more similar to the hero Jester imagined he was when he met him for the first time, but she seems to be only minimally bothered by his change. She needs time to think because she feels that something is changing inside her. Fjord might not be the right one after all. Caleb is always there for here with all his support, and she starts to want to be there for him.

Eventually, they stop the war, they defeat a fire god and Caleb sets up wonderful magic and illusions so that the Traveler Con is a success. But then, during the last night of the gathering, something happens and Sehanine, the Moonweaver herself is angry. She is taking Artagan away, and Jester is willing to follow him in the Feywild and share his punishment... but Fjord grabs her and begs her not to go. She has still the Mighty Nein, she has still him. For the first time Fjord is being explicit about his feelings for her. Luckily everything goes well and the Mighty Nein are free to come back to Wildemount... Where she finds out about Caleb's past and his intent to save his friend Eadwulf and his former lover Astrid from Trent Ikithon. They go dance again, Caleb pushes her in Fjord's arms, and the half-orc gives her a present. There is definitely something. But there is Caleb too, but he is too busy trying to deal with his demons to pay attention to her.

Jester meets Astrid and she antagonizes her. She is jealous, she thinks that Astrid is Caleb's ideal woman and she realizes they are not alike at all. She is a talented and ambitious wizard, while she is just Jester, the cleric of an Archfey. Astrid is just like Essek, and Caleb is attracted by Essek. Jester understands if Caleb doesn't like her after all: why should he be interested into a childish cleric whose power is not even her own? They are just very good friends. That's all. He should be back with Astrid and she will support him if that will happen once that she will be free from Trent Ikithon's influence. But Caleb is still so kind, and loving, and supportive... she is really confused about it. But he is kind and loving with all of his friends, so in the end it might not be important.

And then, there is Eiselcross with its weird ancient magic. A magic as dangerous as the one they found in the Happy Fun Ball, which contained a Blue Dragon and a trap that managed to kill Nott without them being able to prevent it. Everything is dangerous and the Mighty Nein realize as the time passes by that not everyone of them could get out of there alive, especially given what and who they are trying to stop. And Jester herself falls into a trap: she is given a vision that confirms to the Mighty Nein that what they feared is true, that the Tomb Takers' objective is to bring an eldritch floating city scary enough to cause a Morkoth into voluntary exile back to Exandria, where it intends to absorb its inhabitants into its hive mind. The price to pay for the vision are 5 years of her life. "Growing old" is different than "growing up", and it happens to her in a matter of seconds. Jester is five years closer to death now, and it is possible that she is lucky they are just five. The minor changes in her appearance are a reminder of what it could have happened if she wasn't lucky, and she has no idea about what else changed about herself and what will change in her personal life and relationships because of that accident. All she knows right now is that these might be her last days alive and she is afraid she might be missing something before her untimely death.

(And she would not be silly to think about it. After all, who they are facing is reminding all of the Mighty Nein that even if they are becoming powerful they are still mortal beings.)

And when she is in the middle of a mild existential crisis and confusion reigns inside her head, Fjord declares. And Jester, still willing to believe that she is her old self, the young woman who left Nicodronas and miraculously met the man of her dreams that will lead her to live an exciting life full of love and adventures, accepts to kiss him. It is very likely that she was not thinking about anything in that moment, but one thing: "If I say yes to Fjord it means that I am still me, right? It is happening because it was supposed to happen from the beginning, because we were supposed to be together."

There is just one little problem: Jester is ignoring the fact that she has changed from the person she used to be back then, and it did not happen because a group of stone statues magically aged her up. There is still something for Fjord, she will never forget him as he is and he will always be her first love. But she has some feelings for Caleb too, and even if she is "a good liar" they might be too strong for her to simply ignoring them. After all, Caleb "I was trained to lie and kill for the Empire" Widogast did an excellent job when he was trying to hide them. There are some clues here and there that hint that Jester might love Caleb as much as he loves her and that she wants him to be happy, even with other people... just like he wants it for her. Add the trauma she is just starting to deal with, and there is almost no way that her current relationship with Fjord is going to evolve into something healthy and angst free right now. This if that kiss was the effective beginning of a serious relationship, and not the promise of a future relationship between them if she will be still available.

But these are the vibes that the beginning of a relationship between them is giving to me right now, and nothing will be confirmed until Laura Bailey will show up to Talks Machina to talk about it. I am also curious about how she will react when she will see Essek again: when the stakes were not high she used to tease him to be with Caleb... but now she has met Astrid, she might have feelings for him and being in a relationship with another person, and Caleb states that he doesn't trust him. I guess that if she still does, it will be mostly an attempt to show to everyone that nothing changed for her and that she is fine (and that would be a huge step back into her character development, but it was her defense mechanism until the Rumblecusp arc and she is dealing with a lot of serious stuff all together right now).

I'm not saying that the ship is going to die: I'm saying that because of the circumstances behind how it was made official and the relationship between all the character involved, I would say that it is very likely that it will lead to some cute moments, but that it eventually won't last. This is especially true if it will confirmed that Jester has feelings for Caleb too, as feelings for another person are not easy to get rid off, and I am fully expecting Jester to angst and talk to someone about them at some point. She needs to achieve true clarity and accept that she is going to break someone's heart in order to be in a healthy, happy relationship. Because, let's face it, we all imagined Jester would have been much happier if she'd ever entered into a relationship, shouting about it out loud so that everyone know. There is something weird here. So, or either the kiss is a promise, or Jester's heart is not fully into it and this means trouble.

But yes, Laura Bailey promised us that she would have romanced Travis's character and she is doing it. And whatever it will be the final result, she is still a legend for having achieved the impossible once more.

PS: Obviously this post in the end means nothing, as no one owns and knows the full truth behind the intent of these characters but the actors who control them. I just wanted to give my two cents about the question. It's more likely that this development will prevent Jester to suffer from a mental breakdown in Eiselcross instead of causing her to suffer from one, but I tend to over-analyze stuff. Please forgive me for this.

PS2: As a final note, it would have been the same even if Caleb would have been in Fjord's place, if not even worse: I wrote a post about Caleb in Eiselcross too, and between him and Jester I have no idea of who is the most messed up at the moment. Poor children...

#critical role #character analysis #jester lavorre #fjord #caleb widogast #fjorester #widojest #angst everywhere #why did i even write this #i just want them to be happy #cr meta

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bybdolan · 3 years

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ANYTHING THEY WANT TO HEAR [based on cowboy like me by Taylor Swift and this edit] Word Count: 4225 ; Rating: T+ ; TW: slight mention of corruption of minors ; AO3 PLAYLIST

“I'm trying to save my money when it comes to small things like that, you know.” She pushes her sunglasses up. “This thing has an expiration date for me.” “What do you mean?” “I'm getting older, Jack. My beauty and my youth are my currency, and they won't be mine forever.” He looks at her for a very long time. “I don't think you'll ever not be beautiful,” he says after a while, and Isis knows he actually means it. His voice is almost plain when he's being honest, it's so different from his usual act.

read below the cut.

“May I have this dance?”

His voice is dark and low in all the right ways and for a moment Isis is almost lured into his sweet web, but then she remembers how he talked to the old lady with the sapphire ring earlier and she knows that he wants something from her she isn't willing to give him. So instead of answering, she lazily stretches her back like a cat in the sun and takes another sip of her champagne.

“Dancing is a dangerous game,” she replies after a while, and it's almost a bored sigh.

He laughs and exposes a perfect row of white teeth. “Cynical, aren't we?”

“Takes one to know one.”

Her eyes scan the crowd and she catches the eye of a man who is looking at her over the shoulder of the woman Isis assumes is his wife. Isis looks away. This is only her second day here. She has to give the men time to take her in first, let them see her exit the pool in her wet swimsuit and cross her long legs while waiting at the bar; so when they finally get to undress her, it feels like a relief, like unwrapping a gift you have been waiting for. It makes them feel special, to think that they of all people charmed her. Isis knows that men like that.

“You know that he's a married man?”

Isis smiles. “Hasn't stopped me before. It's their choice, not mine.”

She turns back to the man beside her. He's very handsome, all dark skin and dark hair and dark eyes. There's something rugged about him, as if he was a statue somebody had left unfinished, and Isis has the sudden urge to put her hand on his cheek and feel the roughness of his beard against her palm.

He reaches out his hand and Isis takes it. His long slender fingers wrap tightly around hers.

“Jack. Nice to meet you.”

“Isis.”

“Did your parents give you that name?”, he asks, and she laughs and shakes her head.

“No. I did.”

“What's your real name, then?” He lowers his voice and Isis has to smile because she knows what he is trying to do. There's a glimmer of disappointment in his eyes when she doesn't lean in to hear him better.

“It was a church name. A good church name for a good church girl.” She enjoys the sight of Jack's white-teethed grin for a quick second before she turns away.

“I'm sure that's what you are,” Jack says, his voice still low and dark, and it sends shivers down her spine. He's good. If she talks to him for too long, he might get her where he wants her, but Isis isn't willing to give him that satisfaction. So she puts her now empty champagne flute on a tray a waiter carries past, rolls her shoulders in a way she knows makes her shoulder blades look good, and gives him an apologetic smile that he will know is fake.

“Well, Jack, it was nice meeting you, but good girls like me shouldn't talk to young men for too long. It gives them ideas.”

Her high heels are softly clicking on the tennis court floor as she is walking away and she can tell that Jack is looking at the silky skin of her back, exposed by her sequined gown, and for once she actually feels good about it.

The gentle wind that blows across the town square tugs at Isis' napkin and her blouse, but she doesn't mind it because the breeze is making the heavy heat slightly more bearable. Jack is sitting across from her, Aviator sunglasses up in his dark curls, head thrown back as he enjoys the cool air.

“Had I known how awful this heat would be, I would have gone to England,” he groans, and Isis smiles.

“I personally prefer sunshine over constant rain, but that might just be me.”

“Of course you do.” He grins. “It allows you to wear the skimpy bathing suits you love so much.”

Isis rolls her eyes at him over the rim of her sunglasses, but she doesn't actually mean it. “If you don't like me doing that, you have done a very bad job at showing it.”

Jack chuckles and looks up into the blue sky again.

They have been spending some time together these past weeks. It's beneficial to both of them to be seen together occasionally, in situations that suggest they are romantically involved. When Isis goes out with an older man later in the day, his ego is soothed by the impression that somehow, Isis chose him over Jack, and it's the same with the ladies that Jack dines with. Isis is aware of the way they look at her. Most with jealousy, some with desire. Isis feels sorry for the latter.

Of course they sleep together sometimes, secretly, and Jack always sneaks out of Isis' room when they are done, leaving her alone in the big, cold bed. She enjoys the arrangement, it is nice to do something just for her own pleasure, without submitting to others' wishes or expecting monetary gain from it. As much as they publicly exploit their sympathy for one another, their friendship – though Isis wouldn't necessarily call it that – is genuine.

“Do you think that store over there is selling an English newspaper?” Jack asks and Isis follows his eyes to the small shop across the square. She shakes her head.

“I doubt it. But why don't you just wait until we get new ones at the hotel?”

Jack shrugs.

Every week or so, there is a fresh stack of newspapers on the receptionist's desk, and Jack is always the first to buy one. He spends the entire morning standing around somewhere, hair dishevelled, completely engulfed in whatever news he's reading, and Isis knows he actually cares about the articles because there is a spark in his eyes that isn't there when he is reading Albert Camus by the pool.

“Why does it interest you so much?” She cocks her head to the side and drinks her Espresso.

“Because I care about what's going on in the world,” he replies, “I actually wanted to be a journalist when I was younger.”

It surprises Isis. For some reason, she automatically assumed Jack was like her, with no aspirations besides getting the most out of what they were doing.

“Is that why you started doing this?” She makes a vague gesture with her hand. “To get money for college?”

He laughs and shakes his head. “I wouldn't sit here with you if that was the case.”

“Then what was the reason?” She doesn't know why it suddenly interests her so much.

“I didn't want to go to war.” There's a moment of silence. “All my friends got their drafting letters and none of their weird tricks to get out of it worked, so I figured the only way to not get shipped to Vietnam if my number was pulled was bribing the officers. And since I didn't have the money myself, I had to find somebody to pay for me.” He picks up his coffee cup, but instead of drinking he just stares at the dark liquid. “I borrowed a suit and snuck into the fanciest bar in town and somehow managed to get this widow – her name was Rebekah – wrapped around my finger. When my letter came, she gave the officer a thousand bucks to let me off the hook. I couldn't fuck her while being dead in the jungle, after all.”

The silence between them suddenly feels as heavy as the heat. Jack finally drinks his coffee, then his eyes go to Isis.

“What about you?” he asks. She looks away, gaze fixed on the child playing with a stray cat by the fountain in the middle of the square.

“I just wanted pretty dresses,” she says plainly. “My parents were very religious in an almost puritan way, my sisters and I weren't allowed to do anything that was deemed a distraction from our faith. I hated it. I wanted to be like the other girls in school. So whenever I could, I would take the bus into town and look at the dresses in the shop windows or flip through every fashion magazine I saw. And one day this guy came up to me in the streets and told me he'd buy me the dress I was looking at if I did a little favor for him.” Isis looks back at Jack, eyes all cold and icy through her tinted glasses. She puts her chin up, even after all those years. “I wore that dress like an armor. I felt like fucking Joan Of Arc. It was a fuck you to my parents and my church and my teachers and everybody else who thought they could control what I wanted in life.”

The wind blows her hair into her face. It sticks to her cheeks and her lipstick and Isis combs it back into place with her fingers angrily. It's an unusually rough motion for her.

“And then I just went with it, I guess. Always on the lookout for men who were willing to pay for my attention. It's so easy, you just look pretty and tell them anything they want to hear and that's it.”

Jack nods slowly, fingers toying with the white paper napkin tucked under his cup. “That's one of the reasons I didn't go to college with the money I made. I was scared of not being any good.”

Isis looks at him and her features soften. “That's a stupid reason for not trying.”

Jack gives her a crooked grin. “I guess.”

He looks at his hands and then at his wristwatch and makes a face. “Fuck, I've got to get going.”

“Do you have an appointment?”

Her choice of words makes him laugh. “Yes. The blonde lady who always carries those expensive leather handbags, I'm sure you know her.”

Isis nods. “She looked at me this morning when I sat with you during breakfast and I'm surprised I didn't drop dead right then and there.”

Jack laughs again and runs his fingers through his hair. “She's the jealous type. I'm sure she'll be willing to do me a lot of favors if it only means I won't look at you for a few days.”

“You won't manage that.”

“Maybe.”

They both grin.

“If you are planning on ignoring me,” she says, “You should at least pay for my coffee.”

He shrugs. “I guess it would be the nice thing to do. But let it be known that I always pay for your food.”

“I'm trying to save my money when it comes to small things like that, you know.” She pushes her sunglasses up. “This thing has an expiration date for me.”

“What do you mean?”

“I'm getting older, Jack. My beauty and my youth are my currency, and they won't be mine forever.”

He looks at her for a very long time. “I don't think you'll ever not be beautiful,” he says after a while, and Isis knows he actually means it. His voice is almost plain when he's being honest, it's so different from his usual act.

“A lot of people don't think like that.” She looks back at the child near the fountain. The stray cat is gone. She feels a tightness in her throat. “So it would be nice if you could pay for my coffee.” Her voice is a little shaky and she hates it.

Jack silently pulls his wallet from his pocket and puts a bill on the table.

“Thank you,” she says, without looking at him.

He stands up and nods his head as a good-bye.

Isis feels terribly embarrassed and uncomfortably close to him for reasons she can't quite explain, and when she watches him walk to the brown Chrysler he parked in one of the neatly marked spots on the other side of the town square, she has the urge to say something that will make him forget about how unusual this conversation was for them.

“You're really just in this for the fancy cars, aren't you?”

It's a stupid thing to say, now that she knows how untrue it is, but she hopes it's shallow enough to erase what they just shared and make them go back to the sly back-and-forth they've gotten so used to, always vague enough to be fun.

There is relief in his laugh that warmly bounces off the buildings and echoes over the piazza. He throws up his hands in an almost triumphant gesture.

“Damn right I am!"

And that's how Isis knows everything is fine between them. The smile eases its way onto her face without her noticing at first, but when she feels the warmth in her cheeks and in her gut, she bites her lip to make it stop.

Five weeks after his arrival in Italy, Jack gets sick. Isis blames it on a bad oyster, which makes him laugh because she says it in a way that allows no discussion and reminds him of his mother. There are flowers in his hotel room with Get Well Soon!-cards written in fancy ink, but it's Isis who goes to the pharmacy to buy him medicine using her broken Italian, it's Isis who comes to air out his room when he's too tired to leave the bed, and it's Isis who wipes the sweat off his forehead and reassuringly runs her fingers through his greasy hair.

She knows she has better things to do than sitting by his bed and conversing about the topics they only educated themselves about to appeal to the rich folk. The man she has slept with for the past two weeks has flown back to England (not without declaring his love for her in the form of a letter and a diamond necklace), and there are new visitors at the hotel who look at Isis the way she wants them to look at her, and she should be by the pool with her head thrown back and legs curved, or at the bar, touching their shoulders while laughing at the stories they tell. Instead, she is sitting on the cushioned chair in Jack's room with her legs comfortably stretched out, arguing about whether or not Andy Warhol is any good. Sometimes it scares her how much she enjoys his company. She'd rather spend the days with him than alone in her room, she doesn't remember the last time she felt like that about another person.

Her visits get rarer and shorter once Jack gets better and Isis finds a man that takes her to fancy restaurants and buys her flowy dresses in the shops in town, but she makes sure to see Jack at least every other day. One time, as she is about to leave, he tells her to wait and rummages through his bedside table until he pulls out the sapphire ring she had seen on the hand of the lady at the tennis court dance, all those weeks ago.

“For you,” he says, “As a thank you for your time and care.”

When Isis hesitates he cocks his head to the side. "I won't miss it. Blue is more of your color anyway."

Isis lets him slide the ring on her pointer finger and looks at how the blue stone catches the light.

“I'm surprised you actually scored that lady,” she says softly, “I would have bet she wasn't interested in you.”

It's not what she actually wanted to say and they both know it, but they let it slide, and Isis manages to hide how fast her heart is beating until she is alone in the hallway and presses her palm to her chest.

“Do you want me to light that cigarette for you, sweetheart?”

Isis nods and leans over so James can reach the tip of her cigarette with his lighter. She knows that her pose allows him a good look down her dress, and she can tell that he enjoys it.

“Thank you,” she says after her first exhale. The smoke drifts away over the town. The restaurant they are at has a nice view, but maybe she just thinks that because when she looks at the city, she doesn't have to look at James.

It's not that he is ugly – he still has a lot of thick brown hair and some of the bluest eyes Isis has ever seen – but she can't look at him without thinking about his wife, Elizabeth, who had left the hotel last week because she missed their children back home.

Usually, Isis doesn't care about the casualties of her actions, but guilt has slipped into her mind over the course of the past few days. When she told Jack about it, he just shrugged and said he doesn't care, he knows how these people would treat him if he wasn't staying at their hotel but working in his father's garage, and while Isis understands him, her skin is still the same color as theirs and so it’s not her anger to share. Besides, she doesn't feel bad for the men she lies to about her feelings, she feels bad for their wives.

She has never thought much about what it must feel like for them, to be betrayed by the ones they've sworn to dedicate their lives to, be hurt and discarded by the ones they love. Love had been a commodity to Isis, as long as she can remember, and it worries her that the term has started to feel more and more like the vague idea of ‘sacrifice’ she has read about in countless romance novels. It had always seemed so foreign to her, but she kind of understands it now.

“Is there something wrong?” asks James and Isis smiles sweetly and shakes her head. Her mind is trying to replicate how it had felt when Jack kissed her temple last week, when she asked him to stay after they had slept together. Of course he left anyway, but the tenderness of his goodbye kiss made Isis so happy that it frightened her.

“I'm just admiring the view.” She takes another drag of her cigarette and tilts her head in a way that shows off her long, pale neck.

James looks at her and grins. “So am I.”

It takes everything in Isis not to roll her eyes. Instead, she throws her head back with a laugh that bubbles like champagne, covers her mouth with her one hand and puts the other one on James'.

“Oh, stop it, Jac– James!”

The C is a full stop in her throat and she can tell by the look on James' face that he heard it. She intertwines her fingers with his and strokes his thumb to make him forget.

“I’m going back to San Francisco.”

“When?”

“In two days.”

“Why?”

Jack shrugs. “I’m bored of this place. These people. And the heat.”

Isis nods. She knows she would feel the same if it wasn’t for him, but it still feels like he punched her in the gut. She’s not reason enough to stay.

“I just felt like you should know,” he says when Isis doesn’t respond, and she nods again.

“Thank you for telling me.”

There is an uncomfortable silence. Isis doesn’t know what else to tell him, except for the truth: “I’m going to miss you, you know.”

“I’m going to miss you, too.” She can tell that this isn’t all that he wants to say, but he stays silent after finishing his sentence and she wants to grab him by the collar of his stupid yellow shirt and call him a fucking coward. But she doesn’t. Instead, she grabs her book from the table next to her and tells Jack that she has to get ready for dinner.

When he knocks on her door hours later and asks her why she wasn’t at the dining hall, she tells him a lie.

“Come to L.A. with me.” The words fall from her lips carelessly. She had a plan on how to ask him, but then the sunlight made his skin glow even more than usual and suddenly, her words were stronger than her self-control.

“What?” Jack turns around, the look in his eyes somewhere between bewildered surprise and a deep sadness Isis wasn't expecting.

“I'm serious,” she says, voice shaking, “Come to L.A. with me. Or I come to San Francisco with you. I don't care.” She presses her hands into the wall behind her back. “We can live together and sell the other apartment so you can pay for college and finally become a journalist, and I'm sure that I'd find something to do, too, and –”

“Isis,” he interrupts her, and his voice is so gentle that it breaks her heart, “I... Why?”

She shrugs and looks at the shiny tiles on the floor. “I like being around you. And I want you to like me, even though there's nothing in it for me. I've never felt that way about anybody before I met you. And I don't want it to go away.” Her back is pressed against the wall so tightly by now that she feels like the wallpaper is going to swallow her. She doesn't dare to look at Jack.

There is a long moment of silence. Jack looks at his suitcase and sighs. His left thumb is pressed into the palm of his right hand, as if to distract him from pain somewhere else in his body.

“Do you think we can do this?”

It's not a no. Isis feels like she could cry.

“Maybe. I don't know.” Her voice is barely above a whisper.

“But what if we fail?” He turns to her and his eyes are filled with worry. “We both haven't done anything besides this in our lives. Do you really think we can just stop?”

“That's a stupid reason for not trying.” She puts her chin up. “The fear of failure. I've told you that before.”

He exhales and his shoulders drop.

“My god, Jack, look at us. Have we ever failed before?”

“This is different.”

“But it's still us.” Her hands are numb by now from being trapped between her back and the wall, but she doesn't care. She feels the same way she felt as a young girl, standing in front of the storefront windows, so determined to get what she wanted.

Jack looks very lost in the middle of his room. It's the first time Isis notices how big it is. “I'm just scared of hurting you,” he says softly.

“The fact that you care is enough for me.”

There's a short moment where neither of them move, as if they were frozen in time. Jack looks past Isis through the window, out into the sky, then back at her. She holds his gaze. She wants this. She wants him. So much that it’s clawing at her from the inside. He should know that.

Finally, slowly, he closes the space between them, wraps his arms around her waist and puts his head on her shoulder. He pulls her away from the wall and Isis feels the blood rush back into her hands. She buries her fingers in his hair. Jack softly rocks her from side to side as if she was a child.

“You know, I've always wanted to go to L.A.,” he murmurs into her neck and his words are echoing in her bones, “The palm trees look very pretty.”

“They are,” she whispers, “They are.”

“I’ve forgotten how uncomfortable these seats are.”

Jack chuckles beside her. “You've been in Italy for too long.”

Isis sighs. “Yes.”

She feels her body vibrate as the plane starts to drive. It will take them to Rome, from there, they will go to Los Angeles. Her stomach starts to twitch, like it always does during takeoff, but there is more to her anxiety today. The rattling of the tires on the concrete and the roaring of the engines drown out her thoughts. She closes her eyes.

“Are you okay?” Jack's voice is as soft as ever and yet she understands him just fine.

“I'm nervous,” she replies.

“Is it because of the plane?”

Isis opens her eyes and smiles at him. It's an unsure smile, flickering somewhere between excitement and fear. She can tell from the look in his eyes that he understands what she is trying to tell him.

He reaches for her hand and starts drawing small circles on her skin with his thumb. The plane lifts off and suddenly everything feels very still and quiet, despite the engines’ constant roar.

Jack's thumb rests on the sapphire ring on her pointer finger.

“I can't believe you're actually wearing it,” he murmurs, “Considering how it came into my possession.”

Isis puts her head on his shoulder. “It was the first gift you ever gave me. It's mine now. It doesn't matter how you got it.”

Jack laces their fingers together and kisses her forehead. Then he turns his head back to the window and they both watch as the plane breaks through the clouds, into the bright sky.

#amy writes #cowboy like me #evermore #taylor swift #now excuse me for i have to scream #ahhh #i can't believe this is my first fully finished story in ages #i'm :')#i love writing #and i'm pretty proud of this #also: fun cameos by other everlore characters #i am a james is a girl truther but :/ i discarded this for this story. sorry queen <3 #this turned out more cruel summer i love you ain't that the worst thing you ever heard than intended #but alas #i'll stop rambling now #have fun!#tw sex mention #tw smoking

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