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buckyownsmylife · 3 years

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woman’s world - chris evans smut

The one where Chris pisses you off during a panel, but then finds a way to apologize

Warnings: age gap, famous!reader, oblivious Chris, smut, unprotected sex

Chris’ P.O.V.

The panel had gone well, or as well as it could go when everyone was trying to push the idea of Y/N and I together. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to pursue something with her - quite the opposite in fact. I was completely infatuated with the young actress, but the problem was just that: she was young. Too young for me, probably. So it was becoming harder and harder to deal with everyone commenting on how great we would be together when it was already all I could think about, and there was nothing I could do to make it come true without looking like an absolute predator.

Still, there was no denying that my favorite part about this particular press tour had been getting to spend time with her. She was just the perfect company, especially in a situation like this, which frankly could easily become tiresome and irritating. She just had this way of being able to read me and know what I needed, so she’d easily take over when she noticed an interviewer was getting on my nerves or overstepping some boundaries.

She was quickly becoming my favorite person, but unfortunately, the rest of our cast had noticed as much. And so that meant that for the last day or so, I’d forced myself to pull away from her, deliberately sitting as far away as possible and not even glancing her way whenever there was a camera around. I even managed to have a quick reaction when the panel moderator joked about us being the perfect couple, and I was proud of how my cry of “She’s a kid, for God’s sake!” had made everyone laugh, even my friends who had been keen on insisting I should ask her out.

So needless to say, I was in a good mood. Such a great mood, in fact, that I’d decided to ask Y/N to come back to my room so we could grab a beer and watch some movies. Asking around for where she had gone, someone pointed in the direction I thought I’d seen her head to, and after a couple of seconds, I managed to see her in the middle of the sea of people. Then it was just a matter of smoothly dodging everyone trying to lure me into pointless conversations and then she was already within ear reach.

Or so I thought, at least. I tried calling her name countless times, but she didn’t look back once. In fact, she even quickened her step, and soon enough I had to physically run so I could follow her into the elevator that could take us to the floor where we were staying.

I didn’t think too much of it, considering she probably thought I was someone else and was doing the same as I was: trying to dodge anyone who wanted to make us stay a bit longer on the crowded floor where the convention was taking place. But then we were inside the elevator and she didn’t even turn to look me in the eye.

More importantly, when I reached out to rub my thumb on her wrist, to signal that I wanted to hold her hand, the response I got was a harsh, “Is this your way of subtly hinting that you want to hold my hand? Because it’s quite cute, but I’m not in the mood for that at all.”

The attitude caught me by surprise in such a way that I was only able to snap out of it once the elevator’s doors opened, but before I could ask what the fuck was going on, she had ran out of it, walking towards her room with determination.

Oh no, she wouldn’t. There was no way I was letting her hide in her room, angry at me, when I didn’t even know what I’d done wrong. I sprung into action, running after her and managing to hold the door just before she was able to slam it in my face.

“What’s going on?” I cried out, pushing my way inside the room as she just stared up at me with hurt eyes and a pout on her lips. “What did I do?” Y/N huffed, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms while looking away from me, before I managed to pull her closer by her wrists when I pried her arms open again. “Talk to me, c’mon.”

She glanced at me with furrowed brows, quickly averting her eyes before looking back again with an unamused expression. “You’re really gonna act like you don’t know.” Anxiety coursed through my veins at a scary pace. It was clear that I’d hurt her, but I had no idea how!

“I really don’t know!” I cried out, begging her to answer me, so I could make this better. I couldn’t bear the thought of offending her, of possibly losing her… and her friendship. Since that was all I could get from her, I was gonna fight with everything to keep it. “Please, let me make it up to you.”

For a second, it seemed like she would relent. But when her eyes met mine again, it was clear that whatever she saw on mine reminded her of the reason that she was mad, because just when I started to smile, she caught a second wind, pulling her hands from me and turning her back.

“I don’t know why you’re so adamant about making me feel better. I thought I was just a kid to you.” And then, suddenly, it made sense. Flashes of what had happened not even an hour earlier played in my head, this time her face being the focus of it all. Perhaps it wasn’t perceptible for everyone else that her smile faltered when I shouted that idiotic thing, but to me it was.

To me it was, and still, back then, I didn’t see it. I chose not to see it, because I was so scared to deal with the truth. Instead, I ended up hurting her. And that was literally the last thing that I wanted.

“I-I’m sorry,” I immediately offered, raising a hand to scratch the back of my neck. “I just… I didn’t want them to start creating any narratives about us two together, you know? I mean… You know how they can get. And I can’t be… We can’t be... associated… like that.”

I knew I had screwed up even before it became clear that she wouldn’t answer. Despite how cautiously I’d tried to phrase it, it ended up sounding weird even to my own ears. And when she didn’t turn around to look me in the eye again, I didn’t know what else to do. I felt myself deflating, my heart beating desperately against my chest, terrified of losing her simply for being my stupid self.

“C’mon… You know what I mean,” I breathed out, trying to approach her and resting a hand on one of her shoulders, but she simply shook it off. “C’mon, Y/N, don’t be like that.” I made myself flinch with just how poorly I was handling that situation.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

I didn’t know what to do or say. Don’t be like what? “Like a child?” I asked, my tone icy enough to layer the tension in the room with one more level of awkwardness, and I didn’t need to see Chris to know that he was a mixture of nervous and confused, at the very least.

I knew it because I was, too. I was completely thrown off by my own behaviour, as weirdly as that sounded. I didn’t know why I was so defensive, except that I did. I did know it, I just didn’t want to admit.

“Well, this child wants to be left alone. I’ll talk to you later, Chris.” And I stormed off into the bathroom, only stopping to take a breath when I was sure the door was locked behind me. I needed to put some distance between myself and him, otherwise I was gonna lose it - even worse than I already did.

But it was too late to keep on ignoring my feelings. I was forced to deal with the reality of them, at least with myself, since I knew - especially after today - that there was no way I would ever get to reveal to Chris that I’d fallen for him.

To him, I was just a kid, and that’s all I would forever be.

Weirdly, I didn’t feel like crying as I took off my clothes and stepped into the shower, decided to wash away all of the bad feelings that this day had brought me. I just felt… disappointed, like a kid who’s been dreaming about a Christmas present only to find out they’ve been given socks. I’d been hopelessly trying to ignore my feelings for Chris, but at least a small part of me still fed into the ridiculous idea that he could possibly reciprocate those sentiments.

Now that it was obvious it would never be the case, it was like a small part of me had died on that stage.

By the time I got out of the shower, some twenty minutes later, I decided to put on a loose shirt I had kept around from some ex and take a nap until it was time to be social again. Certainly my friends would want to hit the bars or at least grab some dinner, and it would provide me with the perfect occasion to apologize to Chris.

Yes, that was perfect. That would get me a few more hours where I could manage to fabricate some resemblance of control before I had to see him. And then it would all go back to the way it was: me, pretending I don’t have a crush, while he kept seeing me as a kid.

I was so lost in my own thoughts that I didn’t even notice the massive body hidden beneath the covers in my bed until I went to uncover it so I could slide in.

“What the hell are you doing here? Get out of my bed,” I chastised, but Chris only gave me those annoyingly effective puppy eyes that had me groaning. “No. You don’t get to do this. I’m still mad at you, go to your room and we’ll talk about it later, but for now, just let me wallow in peace.”

But still, he didn’t let up. I tried to climb on the bed, but he was now smack down on the middle of it, still pouting with those perfect full lips of his.

“Get. out. of. the. Bed.”

“Not until you tell me what I can do for you to forgive me. C’mon, baby girl, just let me make it up to you.” When I didn’t answer, making sure to avoid his eyes, he simply reached out and grabbed me by my hips, forcing me to sit on his lap. “Please?” He quietly begged, one hand cradling my face while the other maintained its grip on my hip.

The movement had caught me by surprise, and my mouth fell open as I realized that because the shirt had ridden up, I was sat panties glued to Chris’ jeans. And if that wasn’t enough to throw me into a ridiculously horny state, the fact that I could feel just how hard he was certainly did.

“C’mon, sweetheart. Don’t be shy,” he pressed, and my eyes snapped up to meet his, finding a hazy lust that reflected mine and a very, very naugthty smirk that didn’t help my current about-to-get messy situation. “Tell me how I can make it up to you.”

I could hear my heartbeat in my ears as I took a sharp inhale, thinking about what I was about to say. Could I really do this? Should we even do this? I still wasn’t completely sure about what the hell had happened, but one thing I was certain of, and that was that I really wanted him to, “Kiss me.”

For all the reservation I expected Chris to have about this, he didn’t hesitate a single second before pulling me to meet his lips, and it was everything I thought kissing him would be like. His lips were soft and as patient as he seemed to try to be, there was an undeniable edge of neediness in the way his tongue swiped my bottom lip, begging me for entrance.

“You’re not gonna let me in, honey?” He whispered against my lips, warm breath making me shiver in his arms before I was able to gather my thoughts.

“I don’t think you deserve it.” I shrugged, but by Chris’ teasing smile, I knew I had just given him exactly what he wanted. In a quick move, he had me sprawled on the bed underneath him, while he hovered over me with dark eyes that I never thought I’d get to see outside of my dreams.

“Let me show you why you’re wrong.”

Chris’ P.O.V.

I started by rubbing the outside of her thighs until she opened her legs enough for me to settle in the space between them. I paid close attention to the way her breath hitched even with the softest of touches, incapable of stopping the grin that made its way into my face.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking sensitive, baby.” She whined as I lowered myself to replace my fingers with my lips, slowly making out with the delicate skin of her inner thighs. “You see? This is why I was scared to reveal my feelings for you. It’d be so easy to ruin you.”

By the way she bit on her lower lip, I knew I had reached my goal of making her even more bothered with what I had said, and slowly, I ran my hands up her legs and grabbed her hips to pull her further down, closer to my mouth. I ran my tongue over her lower lip, just barely gathering the excess moisture, and despite how clearly affected she was, Y/N managed to grab my hair and whisper, “I think you’re full of it, Evans.” It made me smirk, but before I could even offer a comeback, she just continued, “But even if you’re right… I’d like nothing more than to be ruined by you and only you.”

A sharp inhale later and a competition of stares, I pounced on her, devouring her little pussy like I’d wish to do so many fucking times before. She was sweet, but her moans were even sweeter, and the combination of sounds and taste and smell only served to intoxicate me, make me even more thrilled about finally having this gorgeous woman underneath me.

As her juices dripped from my jaw on the bed, she kept caressing my head, keeping me closely connected to her like I would ever dream of stepping away from this moment. I wanted to stay right here forever, away from people’s judgements and the overwhelming fear that she would think this was a mistake after it was over.

And right here, as my nose brushed her clit as I plunged my tongue as far as it could go inside her hole, she came right before my eyes, her honey dripping onto my tongue as I came up to toy with her clit before at last parting with her taste.

“You’re so fucking sweet,” I pointed out, stealing her lips with mine so I could share her taste with her, so she’d know I was right. “You’re sweet all over. Shit, I really want to fuck you.” My voice became nothing but a whisper, and soon her hands were cradling my face, thumb playing with my bottom lip before I sucked it. It was true. I craved to feel her from the inside, know what it was like to possess her in that way, too.

“Then fulfill both of our wishes. I really want to be fucked by you.”

Godfuckingdamn. This girl was just perfect. I knew right then, I’d made the right choice by deciding to stick around. When she appeared wearing nothing but that shirt, I forgot all of the reasons that were holding me back from simply taking her, and even now, they didn’t seem all that important anymore.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

“Your wish is my command.” I heard the words and braced myself to finally feel his cock inside of me, but still, the second that its head managed to fit, a long, drawn-out moan revealed just how impossible it was for me to restrain myself as Chris stretched me open around his member.

“Fuck!” Chris shouted, and it surprised me so much that it made my eyes widen as I stared up at him, hands still holding tightly on his muscular shoulders. “Sorry! Sorry.” He repeated as he bottomed out, forehead resting against mine as he seemed to catch his breath. “I just… I imagined your moans, but hearing them is a completely different thing altogether.”

The sentence had butterflies flying in my stomach and the reality of the situation suddenly hit me. I was lying in bed completely naked with a still fully clothed Chris Evans on top of me, and his cock was filling me in ways I’d never been filled before while he kept releasing these breathy little moans that had my heart skipping a beat every damn time my mind registered them.

“Good to know I’m not the only one who has been dreaming about this,” I settled for whispering in his ear before sucking on his earlobe, and a shiver passed through his body, making me giggle.

“Yeah,” he whispered, leaning down to kiss me quickly before deciding to do it again. “But I’m even more glad that this is actually happening right now.” What could I add to this? I didn’t think there were any combination of words possible. So I resigned myself to feel it, memorize every single thing about this moment when Chris started to pull out only to push back in again. “Let me take care of you,” he whispered, and in that moment, I’d let him do anything to me, just as long as he kept fucking me like this.

His thrusts felt like waves washing over the shore, bringing the tide of desire higher and higher and I could feel it reaching the point where it all changed, the point where my life would turn upside down because I would know what it felt like to cum around Chris’ cock, and the anticipation was enough to have me writhing on the unmade sheets of the hotel bed.

“Shit,” Chris chuckled, and I opened my eyes to find him staring at me with a soft look on his. “You’re unbelievable, sweetheart.” I could see the desire in his darkened pupils. I was sure it mirrored my own. “So beautiful, and you take my cock so well.”

Hearing him talk dirty was everything I’d always wished for, and I could feel myself getting even wetter around him, whines and whimpers escaping my chest as I held him closer to me.

“Fuck, I really wanna buy you a collar with my name on it. Make sure everyone knows I own you now.” The words, paired with the warmth of his breath had me clenching around him, and I fucking melted when I heard him meanly chuckle at my state - the state that he had caused me. “You want it too, huh?”

I really, really did. I’d never been one for external marks of possession, but something about this, about Chris and I, really had me going crazy for his proposal. Maybe because a part of me thought he would never want to admit this had ever happened. I thought he would try to deny it, and so to hear him wishing to boast about it… It really had me going crazy under him.

“Say it.” His voice cut through the haze, making me realize I was actually about to cum again. It took me a while to understand what it wanted, just enough to have him ordering again, in a tone of voice that made every single part of me tingle, “Say you want everyone to know that you’re mine.”

“I do. I want everyone to know I’m yours and only yours, Christopher.” I don’t know if it was the desperation in my tone, my use of his full name or the fact that I came again, but that finally had him losing the control of his movements, quickly pulling out of me and jerking himself off until his cum was painted all over my stomach.

For a second, it was only our labored breaths in the bedroom, staring at each other like we couldn’t believe this had really happened. “Still think I’m a kid?” I had to laugh, biting my lower lip while trying not to show that I actually was really nervous about his reaction now that we were done. But his eyes softened, a quick kiss deposited on my lips before he cradled me in his arms, cum and all, and answered, “You’ll always be my little girl. I just want to do some very adult stuff to you.”

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blu-joons · 3 years

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DATING NCT A⇴Z HEADCANON ⇴ Lee Donghyuck

A ⇴ AFFECTION

It’s well known that Donghyuck is a huge fan of skinship, but especially when it comes to you. You’ll often have to end up begging him to let you go or tapping out because he’s holding you tight, but he loves to hold you close.

B ⇴ BEFORE DATING

The elder members of the unit had spotted his eyes glancing across at you throughout the night, and after biting their tongues for so long, they finally managed to push Donghyuck into going over and saying hello to you. He was terrified, but as soon as you said hello back, he felt entirely at ease.

C ⇴ CONFESSION

Just like saying hello, the members pushed him into confessing too. Johnny especially had caught onto a rumour that another guy had shown interest in you from your workplace, causing them to push Donghyuck into letting you know how he felt before he lost you. It was a very last minute, and unromantic confession, but luckily, Donghyuck managed to get to you before the other guy which was all that mattered to him.

D ⇴ DATES

The two of you loved to mess around with each other, you always loved trying new places for your dates. It was one of the biggest advantages of being in Seoul, that there was always something around for you to try. The more exhilarating, the better, as far as Donghyuck was concerned, he enjoyed showing off to you and having a laugh. Your dates were never too serious and planned out, you were far too young to worry about all the adult things that you should do on a date just yet.

E ⇴ EXPERIENCE

Donghyuck had never even given love much thought before he met you, it always felt like such an adult thing for him when deep down he still felt like a massive child. Perhaps that was why he got on so well with you, because you still would always make him feel like a massive child, whilst also introducing him to a few more adult things in life, specifically giving him his first, and hopefully last, shot at love. He also learnt from his elders a lot when it came to love and took on board as much of their advice as possible.

F ⇴ FIGHTING

The two of you didn’t tend to argue a lot, but you always remembered one fight you did have. Donghyuck paid no attention to you one date night and played on his phone throughout the entirety of your meal together, talking to anyone but you. You couldn’t help but blow, your reaction was much more than it needed to be, but Donghyuck had never annoyed you before, and quite frankly, you were just in the mood to shout. Once you were done, he’d sit you down and apologise and promise never to make you so angry again as it was definitely a sight that he didn’t like to see.

G ⇴ GETTING TO KNOW HIS FAMILY

His family were very protective of him which often worried you, but luckily for you, seeing how happy he was with you quickly allowed you to become a huge part of their family. All the fears and worries of high expectations you had were very quickly forgotten about once you got to know them.

H ⇴ HOME

Being one of the younger members, Donghyuck was very reluctant to leave the dorm. He loved having his hyungs around him for now, and often would remind you that the two of you had the rest of your lives to live together when the band began to calm down and members started to move on with other projects and jobs.

I ⇴ “I LOVE YOU”

You were actually the first to say those three important words when a prank you tried to pull on Donghyuck had gone very wrong. When he ended up with his favourite shirt being ruined, you knew that you had a lot of making up to do, starting by admitting your true feelings for him to make sure that he wouldn’t stay angry at you anymore.

J ⇴ JEALOUSY

Being jealous around his members was something that Donghyuck hated to do, but he was the first to admit that there were definitely times he’d feel jealous towards them if one of the many managed to make you laugh or do something for you that he couldn’t do. Whilst he was happy being one of the babies of the team, he liked to stamp his authority within the group as your boyfriend, so when the others would mock him or tease him, there were definitely times when he wouldn’t see the funny side and get very jealous.

K ⇴ KIDS

Even the thought of kids terrified Donghyuck at such a stage in his life, if he wasn’t honest, he still wasn’t sure how he saw tomorrow going, let alone five, ten years down the road. If you mentioned children, you’d often struggle to get a lot out of Donghyuck, he much preferred to think of the now and living whilst he was still young rather than all the responsibilities that he’d have to take on as an adult.

L ⇴ LAUGHTER

You were the duo that often gave the other members nightmares, together you were both hilarious, but the biggest fear for the other members. You both loved to prank them and wind them up to no end, you were forever going around the dorm with challenges that you knew would wind them all up. Even if nobody else would be laughing at your antics, the two of you would often be doubled up on the floor with stitches at how successful your practical jokes had been. As soon as any members saw the two of you together, they knew they were about to become the victims of your jokes together and try to getaway.

M ⇴ MISSING

He was very much protected by the boys whenever he went on tour, they knew just how much he missed you and how lonely he often got. It felt as if the other half of him was gone when you weren’t around beside him, even though all the others were relieved that one half of the mischievous duo that you were together had disappeared. Even they had to admit they missed you causing trouble when you were with them, especially as they saw how badly Donghyuck struggled without you there too. They would rally around him as best as they could, but they knew very well that you left far too big a hole in his life for any of them to fill.

N ⇴ NICKNAMES

You’d usually end up just shortening his name as a nickname for him, neither of you were ones for super fluffy nicknames, you much preferred to use your handshake that you had together, which everyone else hated.

O ⇴ OBSESSION

Donghyuck was obsessed with your body as a whole, he just loved to cuddle any part of it. He could never pick one part of it above the rest, that was a decision he just couldn’t make.

P ⇴ PDA

He loved to continue to prank you and mess around in public with you too. He’d often try and push the boundaries to see what you were comfortable with, which would usually end up with a photo of the two of you in the headlines the following day and in hot water with the company too.

Q ⇴ QUESTIONS

Nothing made him happier then when he had your support in pranking a member, so he’d ask you quite a lot which one you wanted to help him get or what you thought the perfect prank was to get back at whoever he had decided to target that time around.

R ⇴ RANDOM FACTS

A lot of his time is spent on his phone, and so because he spends so much time on it, Donghyuck makes sure that every background that he has is a photo of you. Being able to look at you every time he changes app or switches his phone on always ends up putting a smile on his face. Seeing you look back at him goes a long way in making him feel like you’re there with him, even though most of the time you aren’t.

S ⇴ SEX

There would never be a second during intimacy between the two of you when Donghyuck wouldn’t be a complete romantic and dramatically affectionate towards you. He loved making you feel special and taking care of you as best as he could, if there was any distance between the two of you, he’d close it in a heartbeat and hold you a little bit tighter to make up for letting you go even just if it was for a moment.

T ⇴ TEXTS

Sometimes there doesn’t even feel like there’s a second in the day when Donghyuck isn’t texting you. He can’t help but open up your chat every time he picks up your phone to see if you’ve replied or if he needs to text again.

U ⇴ UNIVERSE

He loved having a partner in crime in you more than anything else in the world. Knowing that even though he was about to cause mischief, the fact that you’d be there to cheer him on was always the little nudge he needed to cause chaos.

V ⇴ VACATION

Exploring whilst he was still so young was something that Donghyuck had always been big on, but especially so now that he had someone who would be right beside him on all his adventures. Even though those times would be limited, you’d always make the most of it together and see as much as the world as you could.

W ⇴ WHINING

If he didn’t have your attention then Donghyuck would definitely let you know that he wanted it, refusing to stop until you gave it to him.

X ⇴ XXXXX

Again, he’s a huge fan of skinship, and with that, definitely comes a lot of kisses. He can never help but kiss you as often as possible, there was always something about seeing with a blush on your cheeks and being able to send you weak at the knees that makes him the happiest man in the world. Knowing he’s the one that makes you feel so loved and adored with his kisses is an absolute honour in Donghyuck’s opinion.

Y ⇴ YOU

You were his team mate, you always did everything as one.

Z ⇴ ZZZ

He’d hold you tightly every single night, only usually letting you go when you’d complain that you were struggling to breathe because he was holding you so tightly against him as you tried to get to sleep.

---

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saquashing · 3 years

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I Love You So

Wilbur’s heart thundered in his chest, slamming against his ribcage, making it next to impossible for him to focus on what Karl was saying. They were all signed onto the server, huddled around the deep red stage.

He had no qualms about singing, he had done it plenty of times on his own streams, that wasn’t what made him nervous. No, what made him nervous was the man in the other room, logging onto the server himself.

They were so close, yet so far. Wilbur wanted nothing more than to leave his bedroom and wrap him in his arms and watch a movie. But George said it was last minute, that Karl needed some support on his streams, and god Wilbur just wanted George’s friends to like him.

It was stupid, especially since none of their friends knew they were together, except Phil because, of course. They were both private, George especially, and he asked to keep it a secret until they knew they were serious. Wilbur agreed, all he wanted was for George to be happy.

But still, Wilbur found himself interacting with the ‘feral crew’ more and more. It wasn’t that he needed their approval, he didn’t give a fuck about what anyone thought about his relationship, that was between him and George. But what he did know, was that George loved his friends, and he spent most of his time talking to at least one of them. He wanted to be a part of all of George’s life, not just the hidden touches behind closed doors and turned off web-cams.

He appreciated how much George was willing to do for his friends. He never sang, not even in front of him, and yet he was still willing to come onto Karl’s karaoke stream so he wouldn’t have to scramble to find someone else.

The idea of George singing made Wilbur’s stomach pool with warmth and anticipation. He heard the overly high-pitched falsetto, but even that showed his proper control of breath and knowledge of rhythm. Wilbur would do just about anything to hear him sing, genuinely, with all of his heart.

As the stream progressed, Wilbur tried to make George feel as comfortable as possible, trying to build his courage enough for a small duet. What could he say? Wilbur was a theatre nerd at heart. He was the definition of a hopeless romantic or an ‘old soul’. There’s nothing he wanted more than to have a duet with the man he was falling helplessly in love with.

He had already slipped up on Quackity’s stream, so he knew he needed to be careful about how he interacted with him. Pink painted his cheeks as he remembered the “George, my boy,” that had come seemingly out of nowhere, based on a meme he had shown him that morning. He had to bite his lip to keep himself from groaning in embarrassment.

Sitting up straight, Wilbur cleared his throat, waiting for the current song to end before speaking, “I have a proposition,” He licked his lips, inhaling deeply as he tried to rid the uncertainty from his voice, “For George.”

At his name, George’s attention piqued, letting out a soft, “huh?”

That small action was enough to make Wilbur’s stomach explode in a kaleidoscope of butterflies, his lips pulling into a grin against his own volition. He could clearly picture George, slumped in his chair, knees to his chest and half asleep. It was incredibly endearing.

“We’re the only two European left in the call, yeah?” He asked, checking the VC, though he already knew they were, “Well, as a fellow brit, there is one song you won’t be able to say no to.”

He heard the smallest of grunts from George, making Wilbur’s grin increase ten-fold. They both knew where this was going, as Wilbur constantly tortured his boyfriend with the song.

“Are you a fan of The Killers?” Wilbur asked, fondness dripping from his voice like honey. Though he was usually confident, especially in their relationship, Wilbur found his voice cracking and his anxiety pulsing.

George giggled, and the now almost silent VC waited for his response. It had been clear they had been trying to get him to sing all night, but he remained stubborn and resilient.

“I- I don’t know about that,” George replied, his own anxiety remarkably clear in his tone. Wilbur frowned, George wasn’t shy by any means, always willing to reach out. He remembered the day of the vlog when he went up to random people asking for ‘dog content’. But in the quiet VC, he sounded genuinely distraught.

Okay, that was an exaggeration, but he did sound nervous. Wilbur’s smile melted into a frown, concern replacing his excitement. Karl was trying to convince him to sing, but the last thing Wilbur wanted was to make George uncomfortable. As much as he wanted to hear him sing, his boundaries came first.

“It’s okay,” Wilbur interrupted, trying, and failing, to keep the disappointment from clouding the conversation, “You don’t want to sing with me, that’s fine. I don’t want to pressure you.”

They eventually settled on Sapnap joining him and George. Wilbur hoped it made him feel more at ease.

The song progressed, and beneath George’s falsetto, he swore he could hear the slightest bit of effort. He was trying. Wilbur almost died from the overwhelming burst of affection then and there.

Soon, the stream ended, and they bid their goodbyes. Wilbur stood from his chair, grabbing his guitar and getting ready to put it away when his door opened, George stepping inside.

___

George had heard Wilbur’s voice many times before, in the mornings while he cooked, in the shower, hell, he played Your City Gave Me Asthma on repeat while he edited. But there was something about sitting in Wilbur’s apartment, in his hoodie, with his soft voice and giggles echoing through both the hallway and his headset.

It was extraordinary comforting, wrapping him like a blanket and suffocating him with his warmth. Though he wasn’t complaining.

He knew how much Wilbur appreciated the smaller things, the more intimate sides that George tended to not show anyone else. He wanted to sing in front of Wilbur, he really did, but it was like an invisible border in his head, keeping him from doing so. Like when he did, there was no going back, and their relationship would be real.

George wasn’t afraid of commitment, he swore he wasn’t, but he could feel himself growing more attached to Wilbur with each kiss. Quite frankly, he knew he was falling fast, and it terrified him.

If he let go of his boundaries, there was nothing stopping him from giving every little part of himself to Wilbur. It scared him more than anything.

He knew Wilbur would never hurt him, he was far too kind for that, always doing what he felt was best. He brought George food when he was busy editing. After streams he would pull him into his embrace, his head burrowing into the crook of his neck, kissing away all of his troubles and making him feel like he was the most important person in the world.

George swallowed thickly, bracing himself for karaoke. Karl’s original group had some scheduling issues, and he needed last-minute fill-ins, hence his and Wilbur’s appearances. He knew Karl wouldn’t pressure him to sing, he was excellent about respecting his boundaries when he asked, but with Wilbur in the call, the small, prideful part of him wanted to do something that would keep his attention on him.

The songs passed by quickly, each one building anticipation within him that he couldn’t seem to get rid of. That’s when Wilbur called him out, directly, asking him to duet.

He wanted to, man did he want to. But it wasn’t just them, or even just their friends, there were almost 200k people eager to clip it and ship it. He would never live it down.

“I- I don’t know about that,” His breath shuddered as he chewed on his fingernails, an anxious tic he picked up accidentally a few months prior and hadn’t been able to shake. Whenever Wilbur noticed, he always enveloped his hands in his own, before kissing his knuckles. George’s lips pulled into a small smile as he thought about it, his hands settling in his lap.

That small smile died, however, when he heard Wilbur’s very audible disappointment. It rang through George’s head, making its way down his chest and settling in his stomach like acid. He fought the urge to go straight to Wilbur and make it clear that it wasn’t him, and that he was just nervous.

He brought his hand back to his mouth.

The stream ended fairly quickly, it going by in a blur as George was lost in his head, drowning under the weight of his thoughts. The very idea of Wilbur being upset by something he did hurt him far more than he liked to admit. As soon as Karl hosted Sapnap, he shot off a message saying he couldn’t make it and went to Wilbur’s room.

Opening the door, he saw Wilbur leaning down to put his guitar away, raising his eyes when he heard the door open and giving him a warm smile. George inhaled sharply, speaking before he could talk himself out of it.

“Don’t put that away,” He said sharply, sitting on the foot of Wilbur’s bed, his fingertips padding against the soft fabric of his duvet. Wilbur raised an eyebrow, but he picked his guitar back up and sat back in his chair, waiting for George’s next instruction.

“Play the song,” He mumbled, cheeks growing hot. He would hate to see his reflection right then, as he knew that he probably resembled the complexion of a glass of Pinot Noir, “The one you always sing to me when you think I’m asleep.”

Wilbur’s mouth fell open, his own cheeks growing pink as he realized George heard his serenades in the darkness of his room. He cleared his throat, readjusting his hold on the guitar and softly strumming the first few notes.

George coughed slightly, licking his lips and looking at the floor, refusing to make eye contact, “I just need someone in my life to give it structure-” He sang softly, closing his eyes, “To handle all the selfish ways I spend my time without her.”

His voice picked up volume as he sang, and he didn’t miss the way Wilbur gasped as he continued, “-But I love you, so,” He continued, forcing his eyes open and raising them to meet Wilbur's, who seemed breathless.

George swore he could see tears pooling in Wilbur’s warm eyes, and soon he joined him, his voice soft, letting George’s take over.

His own eyes felt hot with unshed tears, his chest felt warm, and he tried to convey with every note just how much he meant the words he was singing, “- I love you, so,” his voice broke slightly as they sang the last line of the chorus. Wilbur let the note die in the air, before standing suddenly, laying his guitar against his desk as he moved closer to George.

Large hands wrapped around George’s head, thumbs rubbing soft circles on his cheeks, wiping away his stray tears. Wilbur was staring down at him like he was the most important thing in his life, like he was the sun and the moon and all the constellations in the night sky.

That’s when he finally leaned in and kissed him, his soft lips pressing against his own, moving together in tandem. The contact left George breathless, his own hands flying to the back of Wilbur’s head, fingertips running through his hair as he pulled him impossibly closer.

When they finally broke away, panting and gasping for breath, George leaned his head against Wilbur’s chest, listening to his heartbeat. Wilbur laid gentle kisses on the tops of his head, and for a moment, neither said a word.

Eventually, George looked back up, as nervous as he was, he needed Wilbur to know he was genuine, “I meant it,” he said, referring to the lyrics in the song’s chorus.

Wilbur smiled, running his hands over his back, his eyes shining with adoration George only dreamt of. He didn’t need George to tell him again, he knew.

“I did too.”

#Georgebur #georgenotfound #wilbur soot #songfic #kinda #2065 words #my writing #cross-posted on ao3 #ficlet #not edited #based of karaoke stream #i love you so - the walters

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generallypo · 4 years

Photo

[ Constellation ’Director of the False Last Act’ is looking at you. ]

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dark academia!hsy, yeeee! the white coat is fantastic, but unlike kdj and yjh, she doesn’t really switch up the color scheme. no, her bum-aesthetic purple hoodie does not count. i think she’s super hot. i yell about how much i love her under the cut.

------

yo han sooyoung is actually amazing, incredible, powerful, witty, drop-dead sexy... what makes her so irresistible? let me explain

1) yeah, kdj takes the kdj company to end of the scenarios, but please. how many times does he have to kill himself to get there? not to mention his intentional (and unintentional) kill count?

sure, he does the job, but damn is he kind of inefficient about it. say what you like about hsy’s methods or personality, but the 1863rd round far surpasses the 1864th in terms of the lives preserved while still managing to take the team to the end.

without the benefit of cheat-like knowledge, skills, and resurrections, hsy almost single-handedly orchestrates the events of the 1863rd round to a satisfying finale. kmw, problematic as he is, survives and becomes an admittedly better person, yjh finds a timeline where he can rest in peace, and the rest of the cast have their eyes set on the hopeful end of all scenarios. all this, while only being HALF of a person (hsy originally split off into two after misusing her avatar ability). do her actions lead to the happiest ending? no. but it’s the one that sacrifices the least and saves the most. for the greater good, in other words.

hsy may be an intrinsically selfish person, but unlike kdj, she has the ability to grasp the entire picture and avoid tunnel-visioning into a crappier, more convoluted and self-sacrificial solution. ironically, it ends up saving more lives. perks of being a talented writer, i guess.

and the 1864th hsy emerges as a leader in her own right as well. the epilogue arc shows her assuming roughly the same role as her 1863rd self in kdj’s absence: yjh breaks off from the main group (AND BECOMES A TERRORIST AKFDJDSLKSL HAHAHA) to assume a similarly antagonistic role to the remaining members of kdj company. as a result, she’s the most powerful lawful incarnation remaining, and once more the incarnations circle around her for direction.

2) independent, confident, competent (hot and kinda shameless about it). this woman has the most delightfully unrepentant attitude towards life -- how to defeat the man with the strongest defensive ability without dealing a single blow? summon a horde of your naked dancing clones to terrify his innocent sensibilities, and then cackle at his helplessness. the fact that her sponsor is literally the chuuni-est cringefest in the entire galaxy and she gives no fucks about him is just additional comedic gold. her undisguised disgust for what should otherwise be a highly respected/feared entity is a clear indicator of her supremely dominant position over everyone else, and i admire her consistent irreverence of everyone and everything.

hsy is the only character who can consistently bully kdj, brush off his deflections, and bully him again. 1863rd round hsy gives kdj about 50 migraines in the span of 5 minutes of conversation before confirming her superior wit. jhw comes close, but unfortunately, she actually respects the rat bastard. i wish i could mention yjh, but let’s be real: he -- and just about every existing version of him -- has been whipped for the guy for at least 250+ chapters now.

hsy, on the other hand, has no regard for anything except herself... man, i respect that so much. what a queen.

and i won’t lie! i didn’t like her in the first fifty or so chapters. plagiarism? homicide? kind-of-in-general-just-being-an-obstacle-to-kdj’s-plans? yeah, i almost fell into the trap of disliking her purely because she didn’t cave immediately in the grand scheme of kdj’s plotting -- thereby denying me the power rush that came with seeing kdj bulldoze his way through the puny attempts of small fry characters. she’s neither a friend nor a despicable foe, but rather someone who acts independently and in her own self-interest, WITH the ability to thwart major players if need be. aka, the one who frustrated kdj’s plans -- and me -- the most.

going by my previous isekai/power-fantasy trope experience, i figured she’d get pegged into the sexy-but-sassy harem candidate, or get killed off if that didn’t work out. in hindsight, i’m just pretty fucking dumb, but honestly, i can accept that with gratitude --

-- because in fact. the whole ‘she-gets-in-my-way-so-she-either-goes-into-the-harem-or-dies’ trope in light novels/webnovels and the like, is, frankly, misogynistic and boring as hell. i had some admittedly low expectations for ORV, which consequently blasted my ass to the moon and left me there sobbing for 42 years as i mourned my stupidity and paid my respects to its incredible ending and character development. hsy is a particular delight, especially in her meta awareness of these tropes -- blatantly stating she isn’t obligated to kdj for saving her life and declaring the damsel-in-distress cliche as ridiculous, for example.

and it really is, because suspension bridge effect aside, you’re not gonna want to bang a total shady stranger in the middle of the apocalypse. it’s the little statements of self-awareness, self-worth, and frankness that build up hsy’s charm. as ORV progresses, these little windows of her personality bloom as her presence takes stage center -- and then BAM! you really get to know how strong she is, how hugely capable of love she is, how subtly but wonderfully she expresses it, how she leads and protects those close to her, and how damn good she is at it. hsy is amazing. we stan an iconic queen -- no, black flameS EMPRESS. *kneeling*.

3) writes an entire EPIC, just to keep one lonely, broken fifteen-year-old alive. like. at that point in ORV, i knew. i knew. hsy is the fucking GOAT. seeing her spend the rest of her life on WOS, making sure it reaches completion because it’s the only thing that will sustain kdj until the advent of the scenarios... that hits too hard. inadvertently, it also damns the rest of the world to the terror and tragedy that the star stream brings.. but that’s the call she makes in order to save kdj’s life.

obviously, there’s no precise beginning to the timelines -- ORV is so neatly crafted in its cycle of writer, protagonist, and reader -- but i’d have to argue that hsy holds the greatest power in the trinity. creating the existence known as ‘yoo joonghyuk’ and granting life-changing hope to an otherwise forgotten boy.. is pretty powerful. yjh, for the most part, is a slave to the scenarios (until he breaks free in the 1863rd and 1864th rounds, in particular), while kdj (unwittingly) admits it himself: he’s truly the most powerless god in existence. i forget exactly where he mentions it, but it’s in response to lgy’s reverent commentary that, with all his knowledge and presumed confidence, kdj seems like the protagonist of story or a god to him. kdj’s inner monologue, of course, is appropriately self-deprecating and scarily accurate.

in a lot of ways, WOS -- and ORV itself, really -- is a love letter to readers. it’s a two-way connection, writer and reader, between someone who creates with all their passions and someone who consumes and responds with equally sincere feelings. Ways Of Survival -- the story of a man who defied death and grief and great powers far beyond his being -- is a fictional guide to surviving in a ruined world. but to a battered, bullied, and ostracized boy, it’s not just escapism, or wish fulfilment anymore. WOS is the map to navigating the hell of his reality. there’s a certain power in the right words being spoken -- or in this case, written -- at the right time, even if it’s only for the temporary burst of endorphins upon reading an especially delightful chapter. even if it’s forgotten the next day, you’ve managed to connect. you’ve touched another person’s heart. you made them think about questions they’ve never considered before; maybe, you made them smile.

what can i say but the honest truth? ORV, without a shadow of doubt, has most certainly reached me. i’m a goner for this story and its excellent characters -- long, long gone. something has changed, something that wasn’t there the previous day.

the mark has been made on the reader -- small as it is, it’s irrevocable. behold, in all of its little magnificence: the power of a writer, and their story.

#omniscient reader's viewpoint #omniscient reader #orv #han sooyoung #dark acadamia aesthetic #fanart #long ass emotional screeching #wow these are the nights i wish i had someone to yell about orv with #otherwise i stay up at ass-o-clock uncontrollably writing and groaning and writing #anyways hsy is best girl and sexy as fuck

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mariinara · 3 years

Note

Hcs for Harry Flynn when he realizes that he is in love? 🥺

Awh, fuck yeah! I love me some cocky Englishman!

Well, him realizing he's absolutely smitten with somebody would just be fucking torture because he goes through the five stages of falling in love:

Step 1) BUTTERFLIES!!

- A.K.A, the "happy anxiety".

-Typically, Harry isn't the most candid of men when it comes to showing how much he loves someone, but, boy, oh boy..

-He fucking hates it when he makes a stupid joke or throws a one-liner and you reward him with one of your genuine, bright laughs. He just watches you throwing your head back, eyes closing and crinkles forming at the corners, and you just.. laugh at something he absentmindedly said.

-Don't get it wrong; it's not like Harry doesn't know he's downright charming‐ He's a hit with the ladies! But, when he feels that flutter in his abdomen? It just feels raw. Different.

-And, jesus, when you're apart? He just can't shake you off. He's good at shrugging feelings off. Always has been. Ignoring them is no problem. But coming back home to a cold, empty bed? That's probably the worst of it. And, God, he wishes you were right there next to him, making jokes and telling him all about the things you love and– oh god – what was he THINKING!? That can't be fucking right. He CAN'T be thinking like that. He just needed a drink, right? Maybe a couple. He'll get over it. It's nothing.

-But he just can't deal. He can't fucking get you out of his head. Every little thing reminds him of you. From the warmth of the sun embracing him through his window to the shower that relieves his aching muscles before he goes to bed.

Step 2) BUILDING!!!

-You and Harry have always been out with your group of friends– The Drake brothers, occasionally Chloe and Nadine if they weren't too busy– but you rarely ever go out alone.

-But that one night you did?

-You had time for each other. All the time in the world, in fact, to really just absorb each other– bask in one another's presence.

-With a couple of beers in your systems, Harry was more comfortable confiding in you when it came to childhood stories. Some anecdotes. Straight up embarrassing first dates.

-He'd point the neck of his beer bottle at you and give you a serious stare before going on to say, "Do not snitch on me with the Drakes."

-The smile and the zipping-your-mouth motion you'd do was enough for him to spill his heart out to you.

-Only then did it seem like you really saw each other in different lights.

-Harry always thought you were pretty and effortlessly funny. You thought he was handsome but quite literally the stereotypical English douchebag.

-He was.

-But peeling away at his layers was the most fascinating thing you've ever experienced.

-And him seeing more to you than just a pretty face? It nearly made him lose his whole mind on the spot, because wow you were a completely different person to him during the moments he shared with you.

-Instead of wanting to sleep with each other meaninglessly, you grew curious and interested in gathering more information about each other.

-Especially Harry, because, Good God, when you start info-dumping on him with those stars in your eyes? It feels so good and he still doesn't know why.

Step 3) ASSIMILATION!!!

-There came a time when Harry grew a pair and finally decided to ask you out on an innocent date. Just the two of you. Someplace nice.

-It went well until your social anxiety kicked in and you decided to take it on home.

-With Harry, card games and alcoholic cocktails were a MUST, so if things escalated quickly, no one would be surprised.

-It surprised both of you that it took that long, actually.

-And after messing up his sheets, sharing hot breaths and having your bodies molding together, tethered with sweat and desire, you were finally sound asleep next to him. Right there. Like he'd always wanted.

-The realization kicked in when he sobered up slightly. And, wonder of wonders, it had him absolutely freaking the fuck out. Zero to a hundred real quick.

-He couldn't fucking believe it, really. Everything he'd been hoping for has fallen into place and it was like he didn't plan that far ahead, and at that moment, looking at how peaceful you were when you slept, hair sprawled on his pillows and face turned away from him, chest calmly rising and falling, he felt like he needed to come up with a plan. Immediately.

-And he realized how much you clicked. On every level. You saw eye-to-eye in almost everything. The essentials, at least.

-And when he lazily plopped back down on his bed to take in a calming breath, he closed his eyes and raked his hands down his face, deciding that he definitely needed to make a special place for you to fit in that mess he called his life.

-It was too real. And while he thought the reality of it would terrify him and push him away, it helped gravitate him towards you. Helped keep him grounded and humble, too.

Step 4) HONESTY!!!!

-Vulnerability.

-That was the word Chloe mentioned to Harry. The "Key Word", she'd emphasized.

-As much as something like that had never crossed his mind, Chloe made it make sense to him.

-If he wants you as the one constant in his life, he needed to be as transparent about it as possible.

-Pretty much, it was a make-it or break-it situation.

-Harry doesn't remember sitting around, staring at a wall for a couple of hours, biting on his nails in anxiety. He hasn't been this way since he'd grown out of his teen years.

-Damn. You kicked him right back to childhood. And it was high time for him to accept that.

-He was a man who set his eyes on the prize and almost always got what he wanted. It was how life was for him. If he reached high enough, he could grab the stars if he wanted.

-But, no, everything he'd been looking for was right there, on earth, sitting at the same dinner table with him for years, and he was stupid enough to only flirt with you.

-And he decided.

-He was going to call you to set up another date. An important one. Made sure to tell you to "doll up" so he could hear you telling him "bite me" with that smile in your voice that amused him so much.

-He took you to his favorite spot. Drove you to the middle of a grove. No one but you two there, sitting in his classic Cadillac, and when he was ready, he turned the engine off and turned to you.

-You didn't know. You had no idea. You were beyond confused. Because what were you doing in the middle of nowhere? He wouldn't answer you. Only told you to wait and see. But he seemed different. His eyes were glossed over, like something else had completely taken over his mind. Thoughts clouded by only one thing.

-All it took for him to stop looking at you with soft, yet contemplative eyes that were practically silently begging you not to fucking break his heart because he, frankly, would not know how to recover afterwards was a gently, concerned call of his name and your touch against his knee.

-He breathed deeply. Rubbed his temples. Mumbled a "Fuck me" under his breath before chuckling. He voiced how he didn't know how to say what he wanted to say, and you reminded him that it was just you. That he could definitely trust you. That you'd be here, no matter what it is.

-You rambled on and on about how you'd always have his back. If he wanted to break up, that's fine too. You weren't even looking at him to see the look on his face when you said that. He only stared at you incredulously, like you were stupid.

-And, as usual, you made it so much easier for him to talk. To love you like he always has.

-You forced him to lurch forward and seal your lips with a kiss to shut you up, his hands cupping the sides of your neck, thumbs caressing your jawline, his hot breath shattering against your cheek when he tilted his head to deepen the kiss to feel you melt in his grasp.

-He loved it most when your shoulders grew less tense and you sighed against his lips and he'd open his eyes slightly to watch as your brows melted into that desperate arch.

-That was when he pulled away, as gently as possible, watching you slowly descend back to earth, eyes fluttering and love-drunk, staring back at him.

-And that's when he inhaled deeply and cupped your cheeks firmly, "You are such a stupid woman, has anyone ever told you that before?"

-He was exasperated. But he was soft with you, smiling gently and swallowing, eyes bouncing between yours.

-"Yeah, I might've heard that before.." You chuckled, baring that beautiful smile of yours, cheeks squishing against his hand.

-And he huffed, not being able to take how much his chest was swelling, and he spelled it out, "Fuck, I am so in love with you.."

-You couldn't believe it. Didn't process it at first. It was every single cog in your brain stopped turning.

-But when it sank in, you almost cried out. In both relief and happiness. He wasn't breaking up with you; but he was in love with you, and you'd be lying if you said you weren't waiting for it.

-With a barrage of kisses that had him making surprised noises, you professed your requited love for the man you began to straddle in the car seat, catching him off guard, but relieving him and letting him hold you close, all the same.

Step 5) STABILITY!!!

-Shit, from that moment on?

-Everything moved so fast.

-Even the two years you'd been dating. You didn't even feel them. Celebrating your second anniversary was the weirdest.

-Especially that you realized you were celebrating it in your shared home, on that faithful fall morning, when summer had just ended and everyone could breathe again.

-Getting to discover each other, share your life, food, laughter, smiles, even the small bickering and childish arguments like "you took the whole cover last night and I had to sleep with my bum out for the air conditioning to eat out" only fortified what you had.

-Contrary to what everyone thought of Harry, he was extremely supportive and he gave the best hugs.

-He was the best person to travel with, go on adventures with, have a picture album with, and drunkily makeout with during a boring Netflix movie, frankly.

-You would literally never could've thought it would end up being so perfect for the two of you. Just two flawed humans making the best out of each other and accepting the bad, since it was nothing you.

-Neither of you tried to change the other. You only made sure to be there when needed. And you worked it out in the end, whatever it was.

-As for Harry?

-He has never felt more fulfilled.

-Nothing in this damn world would tie him down, but he realized that having someone to love and for them to love you back like you two did never tied him down, it only sort of set him free in a way he never knew he needed.

-He might've progressed through the five stages, but that never meant that he didn't go back to step one every time you did a thing he loved.

-He was just a big softie for you!

#harry flynn #harry flynn fluff #uncharted #I LOVE HIM SO MUCH #thank you for sending this in love #YOU ROCK #hc

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missorgana · 3 years

Text

everything i do (gonna think of you)

pairing: finn/poe dameron

fandom: star wars (sequel trilogy

rating: teen and up

word count: 4690

warning: swearing, alcohol

summary: Finn and Poe are on a break. Neither of them are okay. But Finn hears Poe singing about him on the radio, and they'll be okay. Always. (musician poe, artist finn, long distance break-up + getting back together)

(it’s been ages but my space bfs, it’s good to be back!! a long overdue installment in my finnpoe alphabet series. did not expect e to be the most difficult letter to work with !!! thank you to Cat / @wendigostag as ALWAYS for beta reading and supporting my messy ideas 🥰 love uuuu. enjoy??)

read on ao3

“And now for the moment you’ve all been waiting for, I’m sure!”

The audience erupts in a half-laughter, half-cheer, and the host smiles, looking a bit too tired for his age.

“Tonight’s special performance is by someone who has, quite frankly, taken the whole of America - and dare I say the world? - by storm!”

Previous cheers resurface, louder and more certain than before. Even a few wolf whistles, making the presenter laugh as well.

“Here to perform his new single ‘cardigan’ from the debut album ‘folklore’, Poe Dameron!”

Quite literally everyone in the studio goes crazy, and as the camera directs towards the stage, a light turns on and reveals the curly haired man in all his glory.

He smiles slyly to the audience. A few noises, bordering on the line of screaming, makes him chuckle, but he puts all his focus on the guitar. Snaps, strums, and as the piano starts accompanying him, a soft voice forming strange and unfamiliar words.

Finn wipes the tear away in frustration before it even gets a chance to move, just tiny droplets stinging his vision. He’s sniffling, and biting his cheek, staring at the already half-empty bottle of red wine on the table.

Never in his life has he ever felt more pathetic, that’s true.

He doesn’t know why he’s watching this. And judging by the two texts pinging in on his phone, his best friend Rey somehow knows he’s doing it, too.

His vision’s too blurry to type, he thinks. Fuck it, pour another glass of wine. Who cares?

On the screen, Poe smiles while singing each word. But Finn knows the man better than anyone in that studio to know that it’s not really a smile. It’s the kind that his boyfriend- ex-boyfriend put on at their last FaceTime call. The one where he suggested they took a break.

He figures he should turn off the television when the performance comes to an end. No need to rub anymore salt in the wound, as Rey said.

Yet Finn sticks around for the interview because… because what? He hates himself? He hates Poe?

Neither. Maybe he misses him. Of course he misses him, enough to fight back the sobs, far from sober. But he’ll fight that obvious realisation, as well.

“Thank you for coming in tonight!” the host tells the singer, who thanks him in turn for the opportunity. Always the golden boy. The image of polite, kind, heart full of love, yet so goddamn stubborn.

“Mothers love me.” Poe had told him, back in college, the smug idiot. Finn’s mother loves him.

It’s mostly questions about the album, the upcoming tour, pictures of his parents and his pearly whites gleam when he speaks of them, how proud they are of him. It envelops Finn like a warm embrace. Huh. They haven’t hugged in five months.

They haven’t seen each other in five months.

Then the host starts grinning like a maniac, and he’s got a hunch what’s coming now is what he’s been wanting to ask all along, “Evidently, you got a lot of ladies who love you here.”

Audience cheers. Poe runs a hand through his hair. He’s so nervous, it’s adorable.

“You got a special lady in your life?” a question that quiets the audience significantly, still, waiting.

The singer glances at his shoes like they’re the most fascinating thing in the universe. Finn can’t hold his glass still, because, yeah. He looks like he’s thinking about it too hard. He wants to save him from that situation.

And although it feels like a million years pass, it’s probably only ten seconds before the reply settles, “Not at the moment, no.”

The crowd is nothing less than thrilled. And not only women, as the host implied, nah, everyone in that studio recognizes what a heartthrob Poe Dameron is. Finn couldn’t agree more.

What he knows about his ex-boyfriend that the strangers in the TV don’t know is, obviously, that Poe’s not interested in the ladies.

So does his family and close friends, anyone out of show business, really.

He also knows why his ex-boyfriend isn’t out to the public about his sexuality, yet. Or he’s got an idea. Maybe. Finn convinces himself of that, because then, he can also convince himself that he’s not the only one still feeling he’s being torn to pieces by this breakup. Feels better.

Although the screen connecting to his boyfriend’s call tugs on his heartstrings with its familiar warmth, Finn is, above all, pissed.

And for some reason, he feels ashamed for that. He knows he shouldn’t.

Poe hasn’t been home in a month. He was supposed to be here two weeks ago, but due to press bookings, credit to his boyfriend’s brand new agent, he called Finn late at night apologising like a broken record and promising to make it up to him.

And it makes him feel like shit.

Every apology made him feel more guilty for… harboring his time. Which is crazy, because they’ve been going steady for three years. They talked about this, the possibility of long distance, and knew, definitely, that it was gonna be hard, especially since they’ve been attached by the hip for so long.

Thing is, this has happened three times now, and it’s made Finn question himself.

Is he good enough for Poe? then later, another thought creeps in, Is Poe tired of him? or… is he not in love with him anymore?

Finn feels like he’s going crazy.

And even when he sees his boyfriend’s soft curls and eyes full of sunshine pop on his phone, it’s those thoughts that still inhabit his head. Fuck.

“Baby!” Poe says, excitement gleaming right through him and into Finn’s bedroom. They’ve been talking about moving in together, but, well, with long distance, mostly only talk for now. He’s off chasing the fame, which he deserves more than anyone, thank you very much, and Finn’s already booked up with art galleries and auctions eagerly grasping for his paintings. It feels like they’ve made it.

Except, “Phasma’s got me on Jimmy Kimmel! Like, can you believe that?!” his boyfriend spills out everything from this week, and it warms Finn’s chest, his gut, all the way down to his toes. But at the same time, this being Poe’s first words to him stirs weirdly alongside that warmth.

His career’s important. Of course. Finn’s happy for him, like, over the moon, all the way across the solar system happy.

He wants him to be successful. So then… then why does it feel like Poe prioritises it over them? It’s probably him overthinking it, he reasons. Again.

Finn can definitely feel he’s supposed to be sleeping right now; that’s another thing, cursed with being in vastly different time zones. He listens, smiling half-tiredly, thoughts wandering to everything and nothing.

Which is why he finds himself, all of a sudden, replying to his boyfriend’s, “I, uh, I’m actually writing you another song. Don’t laugh, please,” with, “A secret kind of song? ”

It takes Poe by surprise, visibly, and it takes himself, as well.

Finn bites down on his tongue in the cringe of it all. His boyfriend’s blinking, slowly, probably waiting for some sort of elaboration, but when he has no idea what to say, Poe inquires, “What do you mean?”

He sighs. Wholeheartedly, wistfully, nostalgic.

Finn thinks about when Poe asked him out, driving up to his window in true cheesy romantic comedy style and having offered to write essays in exchange for a school marching band performance.

Their first date, eating cotton candy and the curly haired boy insisting on trying and failing to win Finn a prize, until finally facing defeat. He won Poe a prize instead, first try, so the previous grumpiness faded in a matter of seconds. The butterflies threatened to burst his stomach the entire day.

Their first time, clumsy and awkward, teeth clanging in kisses and stupid buttons in Finn’s shirt being stuck and they laughed until they were out of breath. It was more perfect than anything either of them could’ve imagined.

He thinks about this, because neither of them were out before they got together.

This coming out thing? It scared the shit out of Finn. He was so lucky to have a supportive family, supportive friends. The school was a mixed experience, but he and Poe were in it together. His boyfriend tried to play it cool, but he knew how scared he was, too. He knows like the back of his hand, almost.

And this concern, it makes him feel so guilty he might vomit.

“I just… I was just wondering if you wanted to be official.”

“We are official, Finn.”

“No, I-I mean, public.”

He gulps around the growing lump in his throat. Poe goes scarily quiet.

This is also something they’ve talked about before. Fame is so new, it’s a whole new leap, learning how to handle all this, so it didn’t bother either of them to be secretive about their relationship, so to speak.

Their close network still knew, obviously, but the music industry, Hollywood, that’s way, way different than Finn’s newly established and growing network of artist connections and colleagues.

It wasn’t a problem. Until it was.

Coming out is personal. But ever since his boyfriend said he wanted to go public, then didn’t, as they were both on edge, then decided they should move in together and go public to slam down journalists linking Poe to a member of a girl group he met last summer, then didn’t.

It’s happened a couple of times. And finally, it seems, Finn is coming to terms with being tired of being ready and then backing out.

He’s terrified. Terrified of Poe being embarrassed of him, which he knows sounds crazy, also. But fuck.

“Baby, we’re gonna do it,” his boyfriend reassures him, but he’s distraught now, “You know we are. My agent just talks about my image, you know, I need to make sure-”

“Your image?”

That… that pisses Finn off. Conclusively. Because what the fuck?

“Phasma thinks we should do it at Christmas, season of love, you know?” Poe smiles shyly, he always loved the holidays. And he just doesn’t know how to react. “She’s fine with it, like, she didn’t ask me to fake being straight, like the guy I talked with before. Just-

“Are you embarrassed of me, Poe?” he finds the words slipping out before he can stop his mouth.

His boyfriend’s eyes widen significantly on the small screen, opens and closes his mouth several times, and there’s definitely a yell from somewhere in the studio, but Poe ignores it completely, “Of course not. Finn, I’m the luckiest guy in the world because of you. I just really… really think we need to time this right.”

“I,” Finn starts, but he’s barely sure where he’s going with the sentence. All he knows is that he’s scared Poe might tell him that all this time meant nothing to him. He doesn’t know why he leaps to that, but he does. His boyfriend might find something better than him in the limelight, “I know. You’ve told me, and I get it, I do. It’s just difficult being so far away from you, and then…”

He feels himself drifting off into a cloud of numbness and nothing, but Poe interrupts the sentence, “I thought you’d be more supportive of my career.” Finn nearly jumps. The words don’t sound cold, per say. But it’s weird. The good old butterflies flutter hesitantly, sort of in question.

“I am, darling, I-” he sighs again, “I’ve always been. You’ve just seemed like you’re ready, and I got the feeling that your agent didn’t want you to, and-” “Phasma wants it.”

“But on Christmas, Poe. This Christmas. I’m just scared you’re…” Finn shakes his head at himself, decides to be completely honest, because that’s how relationships work. Right? “Waiting for the moment to end this.”

“End this?” his boyfriend’s voice raises just an octave, looking perpetually confused. He also, admittedly, looks pissed. Hurt. “Do you want to break up with me?”

“No! Why would I-

“You’re the one who brought it up.”

Finn rubs his eyes, feels like they’re on goddamn fire. Poe’s biting his lips, rummaging around after moving what he assumes is a more private room than before, and avoiding eye contact. They shouldn’t be doing this on the phone. They shouldn’t be doing this at all.

He wishes his boyfriend was next to him, so he could curl up on his chest and sleep the entire weekend. It’s all he wants.

Ultimately, Finn makes the suggestion, “Baby, I’m sorry, I just… why don’t I call you next time you’re free? Or can you… are you getting back anytime soon?”

He doesn’t know how to describe this feeling, what’s happening, in any other way than it seems like Poe’s on a different planet than him, drifting in a meteor rain.

What Finn doesn’t expect least of all is his boyfriend’s answer, “Nah, you know, if you feel like that, we should take a break. A breather.”

And Poe smiles, but he sees through that bullshit. It doesn’t reach his eyes.

He’s trying to play it cool. Fuck. Why are Finn’s eyes stinging, now?

“A break?”

“Yeah.”

That’s so much to process. Fucking process it. The protests are bubbling under his skin, boiling and ice cold at the same time, but he doesn’t get the time when the yells on the end of the world resume.

“I really should go.” Poe tells him, but he doesn’t sound like he wants to.

“Poe…” he tries to breathe around the butterflies currently panicking inside of him. He’d scream at them to stop for just five seconds, if he could. His boyfriend’s already getting up from the seat, which is why Finn pinches the bridge of his nose and tries not to look at him, “Okay. Okay.”

The silence that settles between them, then, until they end the call in confusion and boiled up emotion, is far from the comfort they’ve been accustomed to. It ends without a goodbye. Without an I love you.

So, naturally, he gets absolutely zero sleep that night.

Whenever Rey told them they were being overdramatic, she was probably right. This is no exception.

Ever since the damnation of their FaceTime call, Finn tried to get into his head what went down. Namely, him and his boyfriend speaking over each other’s heads. It settles in the morning, the realisation that Poe assumed the worst of what he said, while he himself didn’t understand why he couldn’t come home . Just one day. Just to talk this out.

But in a recognizable stubborn fashion, his boyfriend ignored his calls and texts for the weekend. Finn tried so, so hard not to get pissed again. But also, Poe actively avoiding him made him want to cry. Not being able to just hear his voice made him want to cry.

Naturally, the following week, when his boyfriend decided to reach out, Finn became the one to ignore all forms of contact. It felt like they were walking in circles.

This is new and raw territory.

Finn and Poe don’t fight. It’s a basic law of the universe.

Which is why he doesn’t blame Rey for widening her eyes in shock at this new development. He also knows that she wants to intervene, badly so, given how protective she is of them, but because she’s lovely she always somehow knows when Finn needs his own space to think. Or scream into the void a little bit, whatever does the trick.

He’s pretty sure she didn’t expect this to go on for four months, now. He sure as hell didn’t expect it.

But… they’re both to blame. Finn’s pretty much dug himself a hole in the ground filling up with all his feelings, and as every week passes by, waits for his boyfriend to make the first move. He expects Poe to do the same. Nothing’s moving forward.

So, if Rey didn’t know him as she did, she’d ask him why.

Why don’t you just call him? He could. When his boyfriend stopped ignoring him, that is. Thing is, Finn’s world is sort of crumbling right now, and a confrontation with that isn’t something he can handle, he thinks.

It’s the thought of losing Poe for good. It’s the thought of Poe thinking Finn doesn’t want him anymore, when in fact he fears the exact opposite.

After watching that interview, though, he could breathe a little easier, he’ll admit.

And it’s weird. He felt inherently about a hundred times worse during it. The day after, he just kept thinking about Poe and his stupid curls and his nervous smile and what he might be doing while Finn was helping his sister with the dishes.

Maybe it’s knowing his boyfriend- ex-boyfriend (?) is okay. Does look more okay than himself.

It calms him. The next day, it makes Finn want to burn up all their polaroids and mail the ashes to the singers’ hotel in a massive envelope. As said before, this hole is deep, too deep, making it difficult to be rational.

A week after the interview, he’s just about on the edge to complete numbness.

Maybe he’s been reading those hilarious dumb gossip magazines whenever his boyfriend was on the cover. Shut up. If he acknowledges the ridiculousness of that, it’ll only make it worse.

Finn feels weak for being this torn up after a breakup… or break. He’s had breakups before Poe, but none of them hurt like this. Does it ever just fucking stop?

Apparently not, because when he picks up the phone with Rey’s name flashing, Finn expects it to be another question of what’s going on. How he’s doing, or not even a question, but an order to let her in as she’s probably already standing in front of his building carrying ice cream and bad horror movies.

He doesn’t get why she doesn’t just use the key he got her already, but it’s still endearing. Except, “Turn on the radio.”

“What?

“Finn, turn on your radio. Trust me.”

And so he scrambles around, the determination in her voice definitely not something to mess around with. Finn eventually uncovers it underneath the mountain of Poe’s vinyl records, and while his best friend doesn’t even tell him what station she’s referring to, he’s got a feeling about it. Also, it’s the first station that pops through the speakers when he turns it on, so.

Then, he has absolutely no idea what to listen for. The hosts are making some jokes about the song they’re gonna play next, thereozing about a “lost love” , and Finn’s about to ask until he realises Rey’s hung up on him, and a text.

just wait. u won’t regret it.

It’s too ominous for his best friend’s usual shenanigans. He’s a little worried.

But unlike the last hellish, unbelievable four months, Finn doesn’t have much time to worry, before the voices announce, “We present an exclusive live performance from our new favorite heartthrob, Poe Dameron!”

Oh God. Oh God, oh shit, oh my god.

Naturally, Finn’s anxiety kicks in like a punch in his gut.

In fact, he’s about to pull up his best friend’s contact again, sick of hearing the single that Poe wrote for him and not even being able to revel in the feeling anymore. Only it’s not ‘cardigan’.

Four months ago, a few days before they decided to take a break, his boyfriend sent him a couple of voice notes, containing lyrics and guitar pieces and other bits for the album he wanted Finn’s approval on. He always wanted his opinion first. It makes him all warm again.

This song, however, is brand new, unheard to everyone’s ears. Including Finn.

“I'm doing good, I'm on some new shit

Been saying "yes" instead of "no"

I thought I saw you at the bus stop, I didn't though

I hit the ground running each night

I hit the Sunday matinée

You know the greatest films of all time were never made”

The melody has the same calm like the other songs he’s heard, an image of fairytales and bare feet dancing in the woods and stars twinkling in the night.

The melancholy is unfamiliar, though.

“I guess you never know, never know

And if you wanted me, you really should've showed

And if you never bleed, you're never gonna grow

And it's alright now”

Finn’s thumb hovers over Rey’s contact name, but he can’t bring himself to move.

It’s the alright part. Except, despite how much he tries to lie to himself, he swears to everything god that his boyfriend’s voice breaks over the word. It’s subtle enough that the interviewers could pass it on as him being hoarse, he reasons, but Poe can’t fool him.

He wants him to be okay. Actually, no, because being okay means not missing Finn like Finn misses him, and that would hurt more than anything he can imagine. But also, he’s too far away for a reassuring hand. That’s why he wants him to be okay.

“But we were something, don't you think so?

Roaring twenties, tossing pennies in the pool

And if my wishes came true

It would've been you”

For some reason, it’s only then it settles into Finn’s mind.

Oh.

The song keeps going, and his emotions keep going, from the chaotic jumbled mess he’s become accustomed to a quiet buzz. He feels like his breathing’s slowed down, and a pocket in his heart is being emptied onto the floor.

Poe feels exactly the same way, he imagines. He has to.

Finn’s abandoned his phone somewhere unknown between the couch cushions, and he’s stuck staring at the empty wine bottle he hasn’t had the energy to get rid of, his microwave dinner half eaten, until his ex-boyfriend’s song comes to an end.

‘the 1’ is the title. He doesn’t know if he’s crying or not, which sounds a bit dumb in his own head.

“Poe Dameron!” one of the interviewers yells obnoxiously, clearly trying to hold in their excited giggling, “Those were quite emotional lyrics. I’m guessing there’s a story there somewhere?”

Finn could roll his eyes into the next century at that comment. Jesus Christ.

The singer’s complained about these kinds of people before, of course, he chuckles, politely, hesitantly, probably spinning the best way to avoid opening that door of vulnerability on open air, “I think everyone writes from their own experience, really.”

His voice has the same elegance and softness and gruff that makes Finn think of home, despite the tinny speakers and distraction that vibes off of him, all the way over in the states. It’s unbelievable.

The interview keeps going in the most standard way possible, a couple more questions Poe subtly circles around (including about dating, obviously), some jokes, and they eventually get to that segment where the listeners can call in and ask their own question to the dreamy man.

Some are boring, some are weird, some are intrusive, some are just teen voices in awe of his relatability and what not, mountains of flattery which his boyfriend is all too shy and starstruck to handle.

Finn bites his lip.

They repeat the number of the radio twice. The programme ends at nine. That means about forty five minutes of fan questions.

He shouldn’t. This is ridiculous. But what if… what?

Poe’s voice somehow carries his hand to fish the phone up again, though, like a strike of magic. And then the tone sounds, one, two, three, and it’s too late to take it back now. Shit.

“You’re live! Can our next lucky listener introduce yourself and your question?”

He tries so hard, desperately so, to swallow around the lump in his throat, seeming impossibly massive. The eerie silence is simply too painful to bear, though, so Finn squeezes his eyes shut hard for two seconds, before forcing the reply out.

“Yes, uh, hi. This is Finn Solo. From Pennsylvania.”

A beat. “Pennsylvania?! Well, honey, that’s actually Poe Dameron’s home state, isn’t it?”

Two beats. The singer clears his throat. “Yeah.” Clearly, he recognizes his voice in an instant. Well, obviously, he’d be shocked if he didn’t. Still, Finn feels like curling up in a ball and hiding from the world. He wonders if Rey’s listening, right now.

The interviewer seems unfazed from Poe’s hesitated answer, or they just choose to ignore it, he supposes. “The floor is yours, Finn. Ask ahead!”

So… how is he supposed to do this, again?

This is the worst idea Finn’s had in his entire life. Seriously. And he accepted Rey’s dare to swing all the way up and around the swingset in fifth grade, he’s well aware of what reckless looks like. This is it.

Still, he’s stuck now. Poe’s listening to him. Kind of forced to.

And against his own better judgement, Finn silences the million overthinking thoughts in his inner ear by simply saying whatever hits him first, “Did you mean what you said? In the song?”

Seconds feel like fucking hours right now.

“Sorry, can you-” one of the hosts start, but he feels moved to continue. “When did you write it?”

It’s low, the feedback of his boyfriend’s microphone can just be made out. He prays that was only comprehensible enough for Poe’s own ears, because Finn could never possibly live with himself if he outed the person he loves most in the world. Seems so, given the interviewer once again asks the singer in confusion.

“What do you say, Poe? Do you need, uh… for him to elaborate?”

“No.” the man says simply, shyness seemingly having faded away in a glimpse. “Finn, I wrote this back in May.”

Four months ago. Same month as their FaceTime call.

“Only a week after our call. Took me five hours. I needed to get every word just right.” Poe says those words so steadily it shocks Finn. His hand feels numb and itchy around the tiny device, and one of the hosts gasps.

“I-” he starts, but has no idea where to go, where to turn. Finn didn’t expect any of this tonight. A deep breath is needed, “Do you mean… you wrote it about me?”

He feels like an absolute idiot for asking, even doubting it, but given the emotional rollercoaster he’s been through up until now, he’s grasping for straws of confirmation. Poe chuckles, barely audible.

“All my songs are about you, darling.”

What the fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck. Another gasp is heard in the studio, a little louder this time, but he sends a silent thanks, still, to them being too taken aback to intervene.

Okay, these are definitely tears in Finn’s eyes, now.

One rolls down, cool against his hot cheek, and he almost wants to laugh widely, processing what’s happening over and over in his brain.

What’s mostly replaying is the nickname that he’s missed… too much.

If they were in the same room, in front of each other, alone , he could say and ask a million things. This conversation is impossibly too vulnerable for open air, but Finn really thinks, really, that this step was needed. At least, it’s something he’s been longing to hear.

Instead of breaking down in the happiness and sadness he’s feeling, instead of talking about the miscommunication they’ve been the victim of, he smiles. Can’t stop. It’s hurting his whole face, actually, but his chest feels endlessly lighter.

“If… uh,” Finn chuckles at himself again, him and his stupid emotions, probably laced obviously in his voice, “Is there a chance that you still want to write songs about me?”

Poe laughs back, warmer and wobblier than before. “Of course. Of-fucking-course. There’s no one else I’d rather write about.”

Those hosts over there are probably freaking out big time, but Finn can’t bring himself to care much.

They sigh rather in unison. Him and his boyfriend. Breathing shaky and yet steadying themselves, almost. Together.

“Okay. Okay. Thank fuck,” he finds himself sniffling, “Okay.”

“They’ll always be about you.”

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wordstro · 3 years

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omg okay so here are yeosang’s and wooyoung’s more indepth backstories in the hero/villain au because in between working on my wips I’ve been thinking about this universe as a whole a LOT lol. this also includes everyone else's powers (the backstories aren't as in depth yet) as well just a little worldbuilding establishment:

yeosang’s powers are persuasion. he was always a quiet, shy boy who liked to keep to himself. he wasn’t always quiet though, not until the day he activated his powers. when he was 13 years old, he’d been upset about something he didn’t even remember, that’s how insignificant it was, and he screamed and shouted at his parents. his mother sighed, and his father crossed his arms over his chest and said stop being a brat and tell us what happened. ironically, yeosang hated being told what to do. he stomped his foot in anger and shouted, “leave me alone! go away!”

then he turned and stomped up the stairs and slammed the door shut. when he emerged from his room hours later and tiptoed to the kitchen in search of food. the apartment was eerily quiet, the tv still running and the lights still on. he’d gone to sleep peacefully that night, unknowing that his parents would never return.

to this day he did not know where they were.

he’d lashed out a boy prodding at him during gym class, still reeling from his parent’s abandonment. he remembered the boy’s insult. you’re so useless and ugly. no wonder your parents left you, he’d spat. yeosang saw red. he hissed, “go jump off a bridge, asshole.” the boy’s eyes went blank and he turned away. yeosang stared after him in confusion but the bell rang and he was herded back to the school. the next day he learned that the boy jumped off the highway bridge still dressed in his gym uniform.

that’s when yeosang knew what he could do.

he did not speak and kept to himself since then, festering in guilt, always on the look out for his parents. in high school, he met a boy with a big smile on his face and mischief in his eyes. he witnessed one of yeosang’s bouts of anger, when he cornered some bully behind the school where the CCTVs were broken and kids came to smoke and skip class and he told him to forget about his victims and leave them alone, to focus on his grades and family and stop bullying innocent people. he’d owed one of the bully’s victims for her help with keeping him from failing math. jung wooyoung witnessed it all. the boy’s blank eyes and listless nod, yeosang’s test afterwards, everything. before yeosang could persuade wooyoung to forget, wooyoung flicked a finger and blue flames sparked to life at the tip of his fingers.

yeosang suppressed the relief and a sudden onslaught of tears at the sight, the knowledge that he was not alone anymore.

wooyoung used it to light his cigarette and wordlessly offered it to yeosang. yeosang grimaced.

i hate smoking, he’d said. me too, wooyoung replied with a grin, tossing the cigarette to the ground and grinding it with his heel. he swung his arms over yeosang’s shoulder and the rest was history.

yeosang spoke again and wooyoung helped him control his powers and outbursts. yeosang promised he would follow wooyoung to the ends of the earth. and he did, to the hero-villain alliance where he acted as a villain, to the underground meetings, to the coup, to his fights with a team he’d come to love just as strongly as he loved wooyoung. he followed wooyoung through everything and he would do it again and again. still, why did he feel so guilty? why did he feel so much regret?

wooyoung can control fire. his backstory was nothing horrifying. it was kind even compared to the others. he’d simply lost control one day, overwhelmed by emotions as teenagers are, and he burned down his house with his family still in it. he’d left severe burns on his mother and brother, but no one died. when the police came to investigate, his parents covered for him.

his mother reminded him that she loved him and stroked the tears from his face, reminded him that he’d made a mistake and she forgave him for it.

his brother said he forgave him too, but the fear in his eyes remained and wooyoung saw it. he worked to remove it but he saw it. it stayed with him. the fear changed him. not death nor hatred, just the way people looked at him when they found out what he could do, even when he played a hero.

when he and yeosang joined the hero-villain alliance, he’d basked in the kindness in their eyes and though he told himself that he would stop being soft, that he only cared for the people he cared for and that’s it, just his parents who were too old and exhausted and his brother who feared him and yeosang, the team wormed their way into his heart. he loved them. he really did.

they taught him to embrace his softness. they taught him to care. he’d been chosen as a hero by management. but he saw the injustice done to his kind. he despised the fear the public felt towards his villain counterparts, his best friends. it angered him.

because it wasn’t fucking fair. though wooyoung was soft he never agreed with peaceful protests. he believed in fighting and sacrificing for the greater good. peaceful protests rarely changed anything. the ends justified the means. always. so he staged a coup. he had to. for his people. for the world. for the greater good. he betrayed the people he loved most in the world and he would do it over and over again. for the greater good.

jongho’s powers are invulnerability/absolute durability. he has indestructible skin. it’s said he could withstand a nuclear bomb, but no one lets him try it no matter how many times jongho asks. jongho likes danger. it’s the only thing that keeps him entertained and gets him through the numbness he feels every single day. they made him a villain and jongho wondered if they knew that he feigned his optimism. he wondered if they knew how much he despised himself. he wondered if they knew that he used to beat people up just to feel something.

san’s power is intangibility. he can phase through objects by vibrating his molecules to pass through objects. recently he learned to phase his body parts so when someone tries to attack him, they fly straight through him. he tries to learn the science behind it but frankly he doesn’t care. jongho asked once if he could make his molecules turn into a nuclear beam, eyes alight with hope. san would always scold him, but he could see the sincerity in jongho’s eyes. san joined the hero-villain alliance last, plucked from jail for petty theft and given a second chance.

he loved too deeply, and he grew attached too quickly. it was a fatal flaw of his.

so when they betrayed him, yeosang and wooyoung especially, he grew so angry, he was terrified of the force of it. he never knew he could hold so much resentment, but he figures that if he could hold so much love, he could hold just as much hatred too. he fought with a vengeance with anger, but more than anything, with deep, deep hurt.

mingi’s power is light manipulation. he can manipulate light, blind people, create burning heat from it, and even create entire illusions by fracturing light particles. he’d blinded people with his power and he casted an illusion of himself, forever living in his hometown, suffering the consequences of a crime he should have been, and he fled. he’d met yunho on the streets before the hero-villain alliance and they quickly became best friends, brothers even.

hongjoong’s power is dimensional storage. he can store objects and people away for safekeeping. he’s been told that if he trained hard enough, long enough, he could advance his skills. he could manipulate space itself, erase people from existence, create wormholes and paradoxes, warp reality. it would be hard for him.

wooyoung spoke of the possibilities with twinkling eyes.

hongjoong couldn’t admit that his powers terrified him. he still couldn’t bury the guilt of what he did when he couldn’t control his powers. he still didn’t know which dimension he placed his hometown in, whether they were still alive, and it’s nearing twenty years since the accident.

that’s why hongjoong advocated for peace, for treaties and regulations. he hoped for the best in people because that’s all that kept him going. he didn't want to fight. he advocated for his team every single day. he loved them.

that’s why he ignored the signs that wooyoung was up to something until it was too late. every day since then he fought to bring them back, to right his shortcomings.

bonus:

technically this ateez hero/villain au takes place in the same timeline as the astro hero/villain au i have on here on AO3. so the juxtaposition between how fluffy and how much of a fun time astro/the ioi unit/etc are having vs ateez shows how much public opinion of people with powers changed over such a short period of time. especially as super powered people began emerging in droves.

astro’s stories take place when people with superpowers just started emerging. and villains and heroes hated each other but it wasn’t ever as serious as it now is. superheroes were a commodity. no one was extremely afraid of ppl with powers to the point of murder and villains only stole for the paycheck. that’s why they were all best friends. but as the government began to start regulating people with superpowers and ppl began to protest their existence, more government-run academies opened up and all of astro joined the hero-villain alliance as a team. that’s when they joined the biochemical weapons sector. at first it was fine - they didn’t work out on the field often but they hoped with their research they could help their kind and learn more abt themselves. until the experimentation got worse, more invasive, forced. eunwoo was the sole survivor. he lost his shit, but they managed to contain him at a high security facility. when jongho broke him out, eunwoo swore he would avenge them.

#ateez #ateez scenarios #astro #astro scenarios #hero/villain au

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astrognossienne · 3 years

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tragic star: keith moon

“If you don't like it, you can fuck off!” - last words of Keith Moon

This one was a long time coming, but frankly, it took me a while to get interested enough in the subject to actually do this analysis, let alone finish it. At any rate, Keith Moon, like most of the drummers from the rock ‘n’ roll period that we still read about today, led a self-destructive lifestyle. A close friend of his once said the drummer was “like a train ride you couldn’t stop.” Not only was his drumming chaotic – so was his life. According to some, he was at his core a kind and generous soul, but to others, he was lost, lonely soul, and terribly immature throughout his adult life. Perhaps it was the sudden success, upon joining the rock band The Who, when he was only 18 (although plenty of others of the same era were as young, or younger, and survived just fine), but Keith was so eager to please and make everyone laugh that he eventually became the “Moon the Loon” character that he was portrayed as in the media. It got to the point where he wasn't sure who he really was. A true Leo, he made a circus out of everything and he wouldn't walk into any room and just listen. He was an attention seeker and he had to have it. He used amphetamines, tranquilizers, drank way too much alcohol, destroyed hotel rooms and friends’ homes, threw TVs into swimming pools, set fires, and the list goes on. He was ultimately unable to outrun or outlast his demons; whether it was the wife and child he drove away, the friend and chauffeur he accidentally killed in early 1970...whatever else haunted him, it ultimately caught up with him just as he was finally trying to improve his life. Friends were well-acquainted with the many sides to Moon’s strange personality; one minute he was insulting, exaggerating, joking – the next minute he’s a wide-eyed, innocent-looking drummer boy. The public Keith Moon was The Who’s manic drummer and hellraising, daredevil comedian; a man who only ever lived in the moment. However, the real Keith Moon was a son, a brother, a father and a deeply insecure man. A man of extremes, his was a complete shitshow of a life.

Keith Moon, according to astrotheme, was a Leo sun and Cancer moon (the moon is speculative). Moon was born to working class parents in Wembley, London, England. He was a hyperactive child by nature and a mediocre student at school. His art teacher said in a report: "Retarded artistically. Idiotic in other respects". His music teacher wrote that Moon "has great ability, but must guard against a tendency to show off." At the age of 12, he had joined the Sea Cadet Corp and was given his first musical instrument, the bugle. He left school by 15 and was in his first band, The Beachcombers. While performing with the Beachcombers, he used to attend concerts of a band called The Detours. At that time The Detours were planning to sign a deal with Fontana Records and for this deal, this band required a new drummer. The Detours changed their name to The Who in 1964. When Moon learned about the band’s need for a new drummer, he approached them for an audition. After the audition, he became their new drummer, and performed with The Who for the first time in 1962.

From the moment he joined, musically the band was complete, although adding his already volatile personality to those of the other three equally headstrong members meant that the early years of the Who's career were fraught with drama and violence, despite their almost immediate success. Much of the tension came from the fact that Keith readily joined in on popping pills with guitarist Pete Townshend and bassist John Entwistle, while lead singer Roger Daltrey (with whom Keith was never particularly close) didn't. After sacking Roger for two weeks in mid-1965, he was reinstated, band relations improved, and the Who continued to release a string of successful singles and albums before a downturn in their fortunes in 1968. However, the release of the album Tommy in 1969 turned them into international megastars overnight and from that moment until the day Keith died, they would remain one of the top rock bands in the world. Running concurrently with the Who's rise to stardom in the 1960s was Keith's relationship with his wife Kim. She first met Keith in 1965 when he was 19 and she 15, and while they fell in love rather quickly, he exhibited twin streaks of jealousy and insecurity and Moon was occasionally violent towards Kim. While his mental issues, which would now be readily (and correctly) diagnosed as a combination of ADHD and BPD, reared their ugly heads on innumerable occasions, Keith's true personality shone through enough that Kim stayed with him; she decided to marry him when she became pregnant within a year of dating, and they got married in 1966. Their daughter Amanda was born on 12 July. In those days, there was a belief that married rockstars with kids weren’t as appealing to their mostly female fans, and the marriage (and child) were kept secret from the press until May 1968. He loved his daughter, but his absences due to touring and fondness for practical jokes made their relationship uneasy when she was very young. "He had no idea how to be a father", Kim said. "He was too much of a child himself."

The chaotic sixties would not hold a candle to what the new decade had in store for him, however. Shortly after New Year’s in 1970, Moon accidentally killed his friend, driver and bodyguard, Neil Boland, outside the Red Lion pub in Hatfield, Hertfordshire. Pub patrons had begun to attack his Bentley; Moon, drunk, began driving to escape them. During the fracas, he hit Boland. After an investigation, the coroner ruled Boland's death an accident; Moon, having been charged with a number of offences, received an absolute discharge. Those close to Moon said that he was haunted by Boland's death for the rest of his life. Moon had nightmares about the incident and said he had no right to be alive. Also, compounding this tragedy, was the fragile state of Moon’s marriage. Even after marriage and his daughter being born, he was still jealous, self-centered, and abusive to his wife Kim, both verbally and physically. His mental state also deteriorated as his appetite for all manner of pills escalated and he exploded into a full-blown alcoholic. Even after separating for a year, Kim returned to him, hoping that he had finally changed, but the insane lifestyle Keith kept up at their house became too much. Kim and Amanda (nicknamed “Mandy”) finally left for good in 1973. Since his marriage was a central part of Keith's life, their divorce would come to affect him perhaps more than any other event in his adult life and it was a devastation Keith would never recover from. While most people would use an event like this as the impetus to clean up their act, Keith used it instead as an excuse to drive himself further into oblivion.

Moon's lifestyle began to undermine not only his health but his career. During the 1973 Quadrophenia tour, at the Who's debut US date, Moon ingested a mixture of tranquilizers and brandy. During the concert, Moon passed out on his drum kit during the song "Won't Get Fooled Again." The band stopped playing, and a group of roadies carried Moon offstage. After he was given a shower and an injection of cortisone, he was sent back onstage. Moon passed out again during "Magic Bus," and was again removed from the stage. The band continued without him for several songs before Pete Townshend asked, "Can anyone play the drums? – I mean somebody good?" A fan in the audience, who happened to be a drummer, came up and played the rest of the show. During the opening date of the band's March 1976 US tour at the Boston Garden, Moon passed out again over his drum kit after two numbers and the show was rescheduled. By the mid-1970s Keith was living in Los Angeles and getting up to even more insanity with John Lennon, Ringo Starr, Harry Nilsson, and other stars. Even a new love in his life, Swedish model Annette Walter-Lax, couldn't get him to slow down and take control. There were even stints in psychiatric wards after some mental breakdowns brought on by his despair at losing Kim and his daughter and his drinking. His alcohol and drug abuse was now not only affecting his health (he put on a significant amount of weight at this time due to infrequent gigging) but sadly, his drumming. In 1978 soon after he recorded Who Are You, his final album with The Who, depressed by the deterioration of his drumming and threats from the rest of the Who to clean up his act or else, that he finally decided to get some help. By the summer of 1978, he seemed to be trying to get his life in order, staying sober and solidifying his relationship with Annette. He was terrified to go into rehab or under psychiatric evaluation, however, and instead self-medicated with Heminevrin, a drug used for treating acute withdrawal from alcohol. However, he took too many on his final night and sadly died on September 7, 1978 at the age of 32.

Over forty years after his death, it's still difficult to think of Keith Moon as anything more than just a hard-drinking insane rock star who would smash his drum set on stage or destroy a hotel room. But regardless of the human being behind the drumkit, the legendary drummer should be remembered as the man who forever changed the sound of rock 'n' roll.

Next, I’ll go back to my beloved star analyses by covering a personal favourite of mine; a force of nature and an unsung pioneer of cinema whose death was ridiculously sensationalized and whose colourful life was almost as wild as Moon’s: Cancer Lupe Vélez

Stats

birthdate: August 23, 1946*

*note*: due to the absence of a birth time, this analysis will be even more speculative.

major planets:

Sun: Leo

Moon: Cancer

Rising: unknown

Mercury: Leo

Venus: Libra

Mars: Libra

Midheaven: unknown

Jupiter: Libra

Saturn: Leo

Uranus: Gemini

Neptune: Libra

Pluto: Leo

Overall personality snapshot: He may sometimes have wanted a safe, simple life where he felt emotionally contained and able to pursue his own creative interests. Then, however, the compulsion to strive for a more central, leading role reared its challenging head, and he knew he had it in him – so out into the spotlight he went. So immense was his creative energy as well as his warm feeling for others that he could become both the artistic home-maker and the home-loving artist/writer/entrepreneur. His personality was large and welcoming, colourful and theatrical because he had such an uncanny knack of dramatizing his vivid impressions and selling himself in the most genuine, heartfelt way. Both the paternal and the maternal urge was strong in him. He needed to use his will to project and establish your identity in the world, and to use his instincts to nurture and protect his emotional and material security. The Sun and the Moon are in their ‘home’ signs here, so that potentially he had the creative vision of Apollo and the lunar wisdom of Diana all rolled into one. This could make him pretty overpowering at times, and indeed he needed a partner and a family on whom he could lavish his emotions. His bearing was often aristocratic, sometimes haughty, oversensitive and self-absorbed, but he always seemed to have enough affection to go around so that no one felt left out. He also managed to remain approachable and compassionate because he was so aware of his own vulnerability and need to be loved. Thus he made a warm and understanding friend, and he enjoyed expressing his feelings with original flair and thoughtfulness.

He was protective, possessive and clannish, a stalwart member of his family, group and nation, and utterly devoted to his ideals. Deeply honourable and dependable, he brought an attitude of devotion and romantic style to all he did. He may have actually had a good head for business because he possessed an instinctive knowledge of security needs as well as a shrewd understanding of people, their desires, fears and foibles. His refined taste for comfort and beauty was part of the impetus for success – he knew his own mind and did not easily budge from his preferences and high standards. Aesthetic sensitivity was strong, and combined with his innate tenacity and quiet ambition means that he was quite successful in the arts. Even though he readily turned a bright face to the world, he did not always feel confident and strong. He had a lively sense of individuality, but his potency was sometimes too dependent on emotional familiarity, and the range of his self-expression too circumscribed within repetitive emotional patterns. Inwardly he shied away from encounters with the big, bad world, and early in life he may have needed to find ways of handling challenges that normally push the panic button. This wouldn’t have been hard for him because his creative drive was tremendous and his individuality needed recognition.

He was ambitious, sound at giving orders, carried responsibility well and was a good teacher, especially able to bring out the best in children. He believed in herself and generally knew the right thing to say at the right time, although he could show a stubborn and dogmatic side. He had a high opinion of his mental powers, and it was certainly true to say that he had plenty of mental energy. He was quite sociable and expected other people to behave well at all times. He was eager for close personal relationships, so he tended to have a wide circle of friends. Self-indulgence was a problem for him, as was laziness and conceit in relationships. He tended to be impatient with superficial details, preferring large-scale situations, and he disliked being tied down by obligations over which he had little control. Conservatism may have affected his creativity, artistic values and love affairs. This expressed itself as self-imposed restrictions or as selfishness. He often felt inadequate, which created an insidious form of oppression over all his forms of expression. He could also take herself so seriously, that people think that he was older than his years.

He was part of a generation that was strongly interested in humanitarian ideals, new avenues of communication and progress in mechanical skills. As a member of this generation, he was able to bring original ideas to both his career and spare-time interests. Crises in thought and ideology arose because he looked beyond tradition and old attitudes towards new original and inventive ways of looking at things. His active mind tended to need constant stimulation and his tastes could be quite fickle and difficult to satisfy. He belonged to a time of peace-loving idealism when the family unit and the way relationships were managed underwent great changes. He could be too idealistic and a little unrealistic when it came to matters of love, sex and romance. As a member of this generation, he tended to need to be motivated to make the most of his potential, because the line of least resistance appeared very attractive, especially when it involved pleasure-seeking. He embodied the Libra Neptune generation in the sense that he was a huge part of a time when beauty reappeared in fashion. He was part of a generation which was highlighted by the clash between authoritarianism and individualism. As a member of the Leo Plutonian generation, he wanted freedom in his relationships and demanded the loyalty of his friends as a right. As a member of this generation, he wanted power over his own life and was prepared to challenge established structures. He didn’t feel comfortable being dictated to, unless he in some way agreed to it beforehand. He was a part of excesses of the sixties. He was part of a generation that brought about a revolution in forms of entertainment, recreational activities and leisure time, as well as attitudes towards children.

Love/sex life: He was a lover so in love with the idea of love that nothing else matters. At times his whole-hearted idealism made him too optimistic and too easily deceived by people who promised to fulfill his ideals and then renege but, as delicate and unworldly as his romantic fantasy may seem, it was remarkably durable. Though he may have been misused and hurt, he never lost his faith in the power of true love. Issues of the flesh were always secondary to him and he was apt not to give them much thought. If such urges must be satisfied, then so be it. If sex proved useful in reaching other goals, that was fine too. As long as sex did not intrude on his ideal of perfect love such physical inconveniences hardly mattered. Unfortunately, most of the rest of the world did not agree with him on this point and, measured by their standards, his sexual behaviour may have seemed immoral or at least strangely naïve. He needed to learn to allow for such harsh realities even as he strove to create that grand idyll of perfect love.

minor asteroids and points:

North Node: Gemini

Lilith: Capricorn

Juno: Libra

Chiron: Libra

Vesta: Aries

Ceres: Aquarius

Pallas: Sagittarius

His North Node in Gemini dictated that he needed to prevent his idealism from influencing his thoughts to such a high degree. He needed to consciously develop a more clear-minded and analytical approach involving his thought processes. His Lilith in Capricorn dictated that he was dangerously attracted to women who had a scrappy plucky attitude hot-wired into their psyche. Against his better judgment, he liked to be around a woman who needed to be in control and to be mistress of her own destiny, because her life was in the control of not-so-well-meaning others as a child. Juno in Libra, he sought a mate who was harmonious, artistic, musical and intelligent. He liked beauty and balance at home. He believed in equal partnerships where all lived up to the letter of the law. Chiron in Libra, he often felt wounded in relationships and could wound others in retaliation. He may have felt he was constantly hurt or rejected in relationships. Through learning that he was whole on his own, he could have freed himself from this destructive pattern. He would have benefited from a partner that could have helped him heal in some way. Vesta in Aries, he was incline to initiate work for religious and humanitarian projects. Action came from a desire to improve every situation. There was a great deal of insecurity in self-evaluation. Ceres in Aquarius, at his best, he had tact and the ability to compromise, making him well liked by all. Pallas in Sagittarius, he had the ability to evaluate true personal worth enabling him to use his resources in the most advantageous ways. Other people may think he was lucky. Ideally speaking, he could have been generally positive instead of being wasteful, and he could have been confident and reliable. Nonetheless, he still used his ideas in a practical way, especially in his career.

elemental dominance:

air

fire

He was communicative, quick and mentally agile, and he liked to stir things up. He was likely a havoc-seeker on some level. He was oriented more toward thinking than feeling. He carried information and the seeds of ideas. Out of balance, he lived in his head and could be insensitive to the feelings of others. But at his best, he helped others form connections in all spheres of their daily lives. He was dynamic and passionate, with strong leadership ability. He generated enormous warmth and vibrancy. He was exciting to be around, because he was genuinely enthusiastic and usually friendly. However, he could either be harnessed into helpful energy or flame up and cause destruction. Confident and opinionated, he was fond of declarative statements such as “I will do this” or “It’s this way.” When out of control—usually because he was bored, or hadn’t been acknowledged—he was bossy, demanding, and even tyrannical. But at his best, his confidence and vision inspired others to conquer new territory in the world, in society, and in themselves.

modality dominance:

cardinal

He was happiest when he was doing anything new, and he loved to begin new ventures. He enjoyed the challenge of claiming territory. He tended to be an initiator—and a bit territorial as well. Also, he had a tendency to start more things than she could possibly finish.

planet dominants:

Moon

Sun

Venus

He was defined by his inner world; by his emotional reactions to situations, how emotions flowed through him, motivating and compelling him—or limiting him and holding him back. He held great capacity to become a part of the whole rather than attempting to master the parts. He wanted to become whatever it was that he sought. He had vitality and creativity, as well as a strong ego and was authoritarian and powerful. He likely had strong leadership qualities, he definitely knew who he was, and he had tremendous will. He met challenges and believed in expanding his life. He was romantic, attractive and valued beauty, had an artistic instinct, and was sociable. He had an easy ability to create close personal relationships, for better or worse, and to form business partnerships.

sign dominants:

Leo

Libra

Cancer

He loved being the center of attention and often surrounded himself with admirers. He had an innate dramatic sense, and life was definitely his stage. His flamboyance and personal magnetism extended to every facet of his life. He wanted to succeed and make an impact in every situation. At his best, he was optimistic, honorable, loyal, and ambitious. He loved beauty in all its guises—art, literature, classical music, opera, mathematics, and the human body. He usually was a team player who enjoyed debate but not argument. He was, at his best, an excellent strategist and a master at the power of suggestion. Even though he was likely a courteous, amiable person, he was definitely not a pushover. He tried to use diplomacy and intelligence to get what he wanted. At first meeting, he seemed enigmatic, elusive. He needed roots, a place or even a state of mind that he could call his own. He needed a safe harbor, a refuge in which to retreat for solitude. He was generally gentle and kind, unless he was hurt. Then he could become vindictive and sharp-spoken. He was affectionate, passionate, and even possessive at times. He was intuitive and was perhaps even psychic. Experience flowed through him emotionally. He was often moody and always changeable; his interests and social circles shifted constantly. He was emotion distilled into its purest form.

Read more about him under the cut.

Keith John Moon was an English drummer who played with the English rock band the Who. He was noted for his unique style and his eccentric, often self-destructive behaviour. His drumming continues to be praised by critics and musicians. He was posthumously inducted into the Modern Drummer Hall of Fame in 1982, becoming only the second rock drummer to be chosen, and in 2011, Moon was voted the second-greatest drummer in history by a Rolling Stone readers' poll. Moon grew up in Alperton, a suburb of Wembley, in Middlesex, and took up the drums during the early 1960s. After playing with a local band, the Beachcombers, he joined the Who in 1964 before they recorded their first single. Moon remained with the band during their rise to fame, and was quickly recognised for his drumming style, which emphasised tom-toms, cymbal crashes, and drum fills. He occasionally collaborated with other musicians and later appeared in films, but considered playing in the Who his primary occupation and remained a member of the band until his death. In addition to his talent as a drummer, however, Moon developed a reputation for smashing his kit on stage and destroying hotel rooms on tour. He was fascinated by blowing up toilets with cherry bombs or dynamite, and by destroying television sets. Moon enjoyed touring and socialising, and was bored and restless when the Who were inactive. His 21st birthday party in Flint, Michigan, has been cited as a notorious example of decadent behaviour by rock groups. Moon suffered a number of setbacks during the 1970s, most notably the accidental death of chauffeur Neil Boland and the breakdown of his marriage. He became addicted to alcohol, particularly brandy and champagne, and acquired a reputation for decadence and dark humour; his nickname was "Moon the Loon." After moving to Los Angeles with personal assistant Peter "Dougal" Butler during the mid-1970s, Moon recorded his only solo album, the poorly received Two Sides of the Moon. While touring with the Who, on several occasions he passed out on stage and was hospitalised. By their final tour with him in 1976, and particularly during production of The Kids Are Alright and Who Are You, the drummer's deterioration was evident. Moon moved back to London in 1978, dying in September of that year from an overdose of Heminevrin, a drug intended to treat or prevent symptoms of alcohol withdrawal. (x)

#keith moon #leo #tragic stars #long ass post #star analyses #astrology #mine

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hannie-dul-set · 4 years

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the air was cold, kissing goosebumps onto the bareness of your skin as you walked through the doors of the hotel's entrance.

eight-thirty-one. you took a glimpse at your phone. it had been thirty one minutes since your last text to jaehyun, saying that your shift was over and you were about to get ready, and you hoped that he hadn't been waiting for you for too long.

a silver clutch in hand, you passed by the front desk, sending the receptionist a smile before finding your way towards the elevator. you weren't exactly paying the utmost attention to the interiors of the lobby, but even with a single glance, you would already be able to tell the luxury that the place withheld.

it was quiet inside, nothing but the hollow sounds of your clacking heels were to be heard.

honestly speaking, the nerves from yesterday never left the traces of your veins— and once you found yourself in front of the reflective doors of the elevator, you felt your heart thrumming even harder against your ears. pressing your lips together as you took in a long breath, your fingers grazed the cold, metal buttons of the control panel. and before you could input the numbers of the highest floor, you heard the sounds of chattering, and a couple of heeled shoes clattering against the tiled hotel floors coming towards you.

"i swear, my feet are gonna kill me."

"lira, you have no one to blame besides yourself for being short."

"the both of you shut up— did you see how good jaehyun looked tonight?"

after hearing the exchange, you quickly pressed open the elevator and shuffled your feet inside, only to have them enter as well. they didn't seem to mind your presence— scratch that, they were flat out ignoring you, talking amongst themselves as their voices echoed inside the confined walls. you didn't mind, keeping to yourself as you escalated through the floors.

it wasn't your business to listen to them, and you tried your best to just let their conversation pass through your head. but when you heard the mention of a certain name, you couldn't help your ears from perking up.

"as if you'd get a bite of him now that seonha is back."

that's right. you thought. is jaehyun doing okay?

"does that bitch think she owns him, or something?" one of them scoffed. "she's been clinging onto him since she got here."

you fiddled with your phone in your hands, biting down your lip as you pondered on texting your boyfriend to check up on him, but you decided against it since you were almost there, anyways. he was probably busy handling the guests— you didn't want to disturb him.

with an accompanied ding! the doors opened, along with the trickling release of your breath.

you exited the elevator after the three other girls, seeing nothing but an empty hall and an attendant situated in front of two large doors that lead to where the event was taking place. the muffled sounds of music slipped past the cracks of the dark wooden entrance, and once opened, it got clearer, louder, until it was all you could hear.

the first thing you noticed when you got inside was gold.

schools of tiny, golden specs swirling against the dark blue tint of the ceiling and walls of the area, like make believe stars swimming inside a vast ocean. it was mesmerizing, honestly. but before you can get any more sidetracked from your agenda, you decided to look for the reason why you're here in the first place—

jaehyun.

considering the mass of people inside, you might think it would have been difficult to find him, yet it only took you one glance at the heightened stage at the far front and you already found your heart smiling at the sight of him. there were a few other people with him, of which he was conversing with, but their faces were blurred as your eyes trained on him and him only.

the girl who said that he looked good tonight— whatever her name is—was absolutely right.

you were about to march up to him, a blinding grin on your face, until a stray conversation found its way into your senses and your head snapped towards the direction from where it came from.

"they look good together, don't they?"

"who?"

"jung jaehyun and im seonha."

at the mention of their names, your gaze diverted back to the stage in front, noticing the very pretty girl beside jaehyun— clinging onto his arm as if he were her life support.

"aren't they dating?"

"who knows, but i wouldn't be surprised if they were."

there was a faint stinging in your chest as their stringed words seeped into you, squeezing your throat until you could barely even squeak out a sliver of breath. you tried your best to block them out— you really did— but as the murmurs continued, flooding into you like ceaseless surges of water, you found yourself drowning.

"with the status and looks such as theirs, you would think that they were made for each other."

"it's a bit envious, isn't it?"

you weren't supposed to be feeling like this. jaehyun told you that he didn't care about seonha, that his actions were only for keeping up appearances. he told you not to think of anything about what people might say, telling you that none of that matters. he told you time and time again that he loves you, for fuck's sake.

jaehyun loves you.

but why did it hurt so much?

"y/n, you're here!"

a voice broke through the tides, causing you to jump in surprise. quickly, you blinked away the tears that threatened to spill, and took in a deep breath of air.

"ah, mark!" you smiled at him, and he quickly found himself in front of you, burying you in a sudden tight hug which caught you off guard, but you squeezed back nonetheless. his act brought you warmth, and frankly you needed it after being exposed for too long by the nipping cold of the venue.

the both of you broke away, and you couldn't help but laugh at the excited grin on his face after seeing you. "did you just arrive?"

"oh yeah," you answered. "i arrived not too long ago."

"jaehyun hyung is up front. want me to call him for you?"

"no, no it's okay! i'll go to him myself," mark hummed at your assurance. he was about to say something else, until a loud voice started calling for him from afar, and you raised a brow at him.

he only groaned, a subtle pout on his lips after hearing that. "fuck— sorry, y/n, but i have to go. have fun with jaehyun hyung!"

that was the last thing he said before disappearing into the dark blue ocean once more, your smile leaving as he did. again, your gaze turned to jaehyun and seonha. he looked happy, that much you can tell from the faraway distance, and you couldn't help but think that—

they do look good together.

before you can do anything or think of anything else, you could see jaehyun excusing himself from the group he was talking to, dropping out of your sight. immediately after, you felt a buzzing from your phone, and you promptly opened it to check.

oh.

you wouldn't lie, you felt your heart flutter when you saw that. it tugged at your cheeks— causing you to smile to yourself as you stared down into your phone. but that was immediately cut short as the previous waters that were washing over you had tried to sink you in its depths once again.

"ah, the director left only for a moment, but it seems like seonha had missed him already."

"it must be nice to be young and in love."

the hold you had on your phone tightened along with your chest. you stared at his message— one, three, seconds passed. the exit was behind you, and he didn't know you were here yet, so it would be fine. it took a moment, but you managed to fumble out your typed response.

and just like that, the ocean was no longer.

gold painted canvas

the classic rich boy and poor girl love story but with less prejudice and more happiness

35 // an ocean

a/n: uwu

feel free to yell at me in the comments/in your tags/in my inbox HHAHAHA im terrified of the ocean but watch me make a million analogies with it

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@joshva @salty-for-suga @starlightshua @itsjynop @riverdale-kpop @lokideadontheinside @aborivin @catallergieswillnotstopme @kingalls00 @hannahdinse8 @irrelevxntstxr @junglewoos @stopitvpls @lynniac @neolights @shailaaa @elmuchohottie @bat-shark-repellant @hufflepanda221b @svteez @sehunniepot @imyourmuse @shyshybabyy @crtznstuff @rosiethefairy @junghoe

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@jaehyunsgoodthing @neocultech-baby

#jung jaehyun #nct #jung jaehyun x reader #nct x reader #jung jaehyun social media au #nct social media au #jung jaehyun texts #nct texts #jung jaehyun scenarios #nct scenarios

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aonogifreactions · 4 years

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a/n: i apologize for Luci’s hc being kinda written in general! as i’ve said, i tried to write it not too long, but after amaimon i went overboard, especially with Yukio xD also, regarding Shiro’s hc: the timeline is set when the twins are 3-4 years old, so he’s quite young there. under “read more” due to the length!

✰ Characters: Lucifer, Amaimon, Shiro, Rin, Yukio (written in that order).

✰ Words: 1,3k

Lucifer:

suspicious. VERY suspicious. resists the urge to squint at his "son", so he just keeps staring at him without saying a word and blinks occasionally. even if he looks similar to him or you, he still doesn’t trust it; he might be as well a clone that’s pretending to be his child.

actually thinks it’s a prank pulled by Mephisto, since his child mentioned time traveling.

he believes it’s his actual child once he mentions something that only Lucifer and you know - for example, the initial names you planned to give to your child.

very interested in his son’s own interests - he’d ask a lot of questions and smile proudly if he announced he helps his father reach his goal; when his child doesn’t follow his steps, he just nods and asks how his studies are going (because, quite frankly, I don't think he’d force his child to join Illuminati and do stuff related to it)

as the conversation goes, he starts to notice the features he’s inherited from his mother - both in his personality and looks. it makes him feel excited to be a parent, knowing his strong genes allowed his beloved to also create a beautiful child together.

Amaimon:

confused, a lot, but he won’t question it. he just does his thing, and to be honest, doesn’t care much.

that being said, he starts to care when he realizes his so-called “child” is following him everywhere and trying to eat chips from his bag. for some reason, he lets his son take a handful of chips, staring at him and squinting menacingly.

when his son is done eating, they both just look at each other with the same blank expression.

it clicks in his head once his kid mentions your favorite brand of sweets like it’s nothing; Amaimon looks shocked for a minute, then his usual, bored expression returns.

unlike Luci, he doesn’t ask much questions, but enjoys hanging out with him as long as possible. Amai notices his son’s personality is like his, but his appearance is exactly like yours.

he’s honestly more open to the idea of having a child; In a way that he doesn’t actually mind them existing, but when they grow up, he’ll have another person to do his shenanigans with. once he gets past the diaper stage, he’s fine.

Shiro:

literally he just

when he looks back at his son, he sees him lighting a cigarette.

“well, shit.”

Shiro looks at the exact same copy of him. both in personality, and appearance as well. and it terrifies him. yet, the only reaction he lets out is a loud laugh. (thank god that “copy” has been made naturally..)

again, like Luci, thinks that Mephisto is making fun of him.

his son, on the other hand, isn’t laughing. he looks quite unsure and almost sad; that’s when he says, “it’s good to see you, old man. it’s been a while.” he doesn’t end the sentence though, wanting to say he’s glad to see his father after a few years of seeing his name only on a gravestone.

Shiro, despite being quite some time away from death, understands what his son meant to say nonetheless; he then decides to spend some time with him, asking how things are going in the future. His son isn’t very willing to talk, but he tells him in a calm voice, “there have been some bumps here and there. but I’m fine now. they’re fine, too. so you don't have to worry about that two devils, either.” and smiles genuinely; it makes Shiro’s heart melt completely because he recognizes that smile - the smile he gets to see on your beautiful face every day.

when his son was gone, he still yelled at Mephisto. Poor demon, it wasn’t his fault this time, actually.

Rin:

opens the door and screams. the person on the other side also screams. Rin’s so shocked and confused he might pass out; he manages to stay on his feet, though. (even though,, he doesn’t know why he screamed in the first place)

when he calms down a bit, he immediately notices that the person standing in the doorway looks kinda similar to him - he’s almost as tall as he is, but his eyes and hair differ a little.

the person greets themselves with the same last name, then breaks the news - “i’m your son! nice to meet you, dad! you can call me by my name or Shiro, that’s a nickname I’ve received from my friends!” he says happily, scratching nervously the back of his neck.

Rin’s expression softens a little; he sees the way he acts and is almost sure the kid is telling the truth. He invites him inside and softly closes the door.

Meanwhile Rin tried to ask if he wants a drink, his son interrupted him whilst taking a photo frame in his hands and yelling excitedly, “oh man! that’s mom?! you have a good taste, dad!” Rin just blinked at him, mumbling a slight “thanks?”.

after the initial shock has passed, his son told him a little about himself and generally, they shared some good time together. that is, until his son asked if he knows what happened to auntie Shura.

Rin tilted his head to the side, his white locks tickling his eyes; he said a confused “no..? is it... bad...?” his worry has started to risen.

“well... she got pregnant with triplets! or.. will... get...?”

Rin choked on his spit, to say the least.

Yukio:

Yukio’s been silently enjoying his coffee, quite early in the morning. After all, that’s what he deserves after that entire bullshit with satan and his eye.

Since the order allowed him to take some time off, he decided he’s gonna dedicate it for healing - both mentally and physically.

As the clock showed 8am, the sun rays hit his face harshly through the curtains - he decided to go to a store to buy some of the products you’ll use to make breakfast later.

He felt uneasy going to the store. He felt something was not right... but he ignored it, thinking it’s probably still because of the previous events. Going through the aisles and taking his sweet time, he grew even more confused, seeing that most of the products he was gonna buy is missing - they couldn’t have bought everything. Sure, lots of people left the store when he walked in, but it’s barely 8.30am.

Leaving the store with just a few products, it was hard to say he wasn’t annoyed. That’s when he felt someone tapping his shoulder, making him ultra-aware of his surroundings.

“Are ya lookin’ for this?” another male voice asked, smirking, “Sheesh, you probably look really annoyed, and I haven’t even seen your face!”

Yukio turned around, facing a male that quite resembled him - the same height, build, the only thing he was missing was glasses. Yukio, being annoyed as it is, wanted to politely brush him off, but he was interrupted mid-sentence.

“I’m Okumura. Your son, to be exact,” his features softened, eyes gazing at the pavement he stood on, “I got this stuff for you. This is what mom always needs for breakfast, right?” the male smiled gently, handing him the grocery bag. Yukio took it hesitantly.

“I know it’s all so weird, but, do you wanna maybe go on a walk with me? I like the weather today,” he fixed his [hair color]-colored locks, smiling brightly, “and I like spending time with you, dad.”

Well, Yukio’s walk to the store’s certainly gotten more interesting than he originally thought.

edits arent mine! :3

#Ao no Exorcist #ao no exorcist imagine #blue exorcist #blue exorcist imagines #blue exorcist imagine #lucifer #amaimon #Shiro Fujimoto #rin okumura #Yukio Okumura #Headcanon #Pure #queued

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drabbles-of-writing · 4 years

Text

Bonesborough’s Resident Troublemaker

This is part of my Four Years AU

AO3

Masterpost

. . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Bonesborough, even by Boiling Isles standards, was never an incredibly normal place.

First of all, it was the home of Emperor Belos. A town housing a man with such power was bound to be recognizable by name alone.

Second of all, it seems to have a knack for attracting trouble. Even more so than other towns. Small or big, Bonesborough has it. From a thought-to-be extinct basilisk attacking the local school to a cursed owl beast appearing every once in a while to a random human girl of all people staging a prison breakout.

Speaking of the human girl…

Last, but not least, Bonesborough held some of the most powerful and strangest witches the Boiling Isles had ever seen.

The two most notable ones being The Owl Lady, a covenless witch that was once the strongest witch alive. Advanced in wild magic and sharing a half-curse with her sister, also known as the former Emperor’s Coven leader. Until her magic died out. Though there are rumors she is finding a way to regain it.

And then there was her apprentice.

A human girl who appeared out of nowhere and learned her own form of magic. In just a single month she had been banned from Hexside School of Magic and Demonics, somehow managed to enroll in said school, convinced the principal to let students study multiple tracks, befriended the Bat Queen, defeated Grometheus, and fought Emperor Belos himself. And she survived.

To the rest of the Boiling Isles, Bonesborough was a battleground of the strangest people with even stranger stories.

To Bonesborough, however, it was any other morning with the residents of The Owl House. And their most common troublemaker the past few years; The Owlet.

“Owlet, that better not be you.”

Slowly, very slowly, a black and white owl mask poked up on the other end of the stand.

“Hey,” The Owlet waved shyly, slowly pulling her purple hood off.

“Owlet, no.” The greengrocer warned, grabbing her produce at the edge of the stand and pulling it closer today.

“Please?” The Owlet begged, her mask's eyes going as big in her puppy-dog look that everyone knew Eda must have taught her.

“No, bad Owlet.” The greengrocer teased, lightly swatting at the thief's hand as she tried to reach for the vegetables. “Go steal from someone else. Or, you know, pay?”

“But I’m saving!” The Owlet whined. “You see, I had an idea--

“I hate to sound rude but I frankly don’t want to know or be involved with whatever idea you’ve concocted.” The greengrocer butt-in. “I have a business to keep.”

The Owlet whimpered and dramatically lay her chin on the table, staring longing at the vegetables. The greengrocer looked between her produce and the girl for a few moments before sighing and shaking her head.

“If you really need to steal something,” She said slowly, noticing the way the Owlet perked up. “I know of a certain someone who can definitely afford it…”

“Stealing from the rich? Even better!” The Owlet exclaimed, jumping up excitedly. “Where do I find them?”

The greengrocer, surprised and mildly amused, pointed further down the marketplace.

“He sells somewhere down there, closer to the richer side of town. He’s got a big banner that’s cluttered with saying how ‘fresh’ and ‘organic’ his produce is.” The greengrocer huffed.

“Normally I wouldn’t care so much, but the guy literally uses magic to grow his produce and only makes his son do it on the side. I’m not exactly worried about his financial status.” She grumbled.

“Well then, I will be delighted to be of help.” The Owlet grinned, pulling her white staff off of her back. “Thanks for the tip!”

“Now you be careful out there, young lady!” The greengrocer warned as the Owlet rose into the air. “You’re still just an Owlet!”

“Pfft, since when did that ever stop me?” The Owlet replied.

She saluted the greengrocer before flying off, vanishing among the growing morning crowd.

The countdown for morning shenanigans had begun.

“Miss Blight?”

“Owlet again?”

“Yes, Miss Blight.”

Amity sighed and rubbed at her temples from where she sat at her desk.

“What did she do this time?”

“Stolen produce,” The guard said. “We have her bound as we speak.”

“Is that Amity in there?” A voice called from outside the tent.

“Think you can handle her this time?” The guard asked, a smug tone in his voice.

“And what’s that supposed to mean, Keene?” Amity demanded, a little too quickly, as she stood up from her desk.

“Nothing, Miss Blight.” The guard said simply, turning his head to the side. “Good luck trying to wrangle her.”

“Thank you,” Amity growled through gritted teeth, grabbing her gray beaked mask from where it hung on the wall and slipped out of the tent.

“Amity!” Owlet grinned.

The thief had her wrists bound together with rope and was being led from said rope by one of the newer guards.

Poor guy.

“I’ve taken all of her glyphs, Miss Blight!” The young guard said happily, waving around a handful of paper cards with glee.

“Good job, Laris.” Amity sighed, knowing very well there was no way he had gotten all of her glyphs.

“Where’s her palisman?” She asked, walking up to Owlet and looking down at her, pulling her best ‘Really?’ face.

“Over here, Miss Blight.” One of the other guards said, holding up Owlet’s staff...with no palisman on the end.

“That’s a staff without a palisman, Xena.” Amity deadpanned.

“What? Where--?” The guard, Xena, began looking around frantically for the snow-white owl, who had somehow escaped her grasp.

“Where’s Snowy, Luz?” Amity sighed, turning back to the Owlet, who was looking very smug.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” The Owlet said smugly. “I’m not talking. You’ll have to torture it out of me.”

“I can arrange that!” Xena called gleefully from where she was still searching for the palisman.

“No! No, Xena, we are not doing that.” Amity said sternly.

“Aw,” Xena mumbled.

“Titan save me,” Amity mumbled. “Look, why were you stealing produce?” Amity turned back to the Owlet. “I know why you stole from that guy, but vegetables? Can’t Eda steal her own?”

“Pfft, and let me miss out on all the fun?” The Owlet grinned. “And I’m saving.”

“...is this seriously about the glyph tattoos?”

“Yeah,”

“Oh for the love of--” Amity pinched the bridge of her nose, remembering just where she was and who was watching. Best to not reveal more to a whole squadron of Emperor’s Coven guards.

“You’re impossible,” She grumbled.

“I know,” The Owlet smiled. “Anyway, it was nice chatting with you, and especially you,” She nodded to Laris. “But Lilith’s gonna be mad again if news of my capture makes the news. Again.”

“Hey, you’re not going--”

“Laris!” Keene shouted. “Duck!”

The new guard only froze up before a screech sounded from above. The Emperor’s guards all looked up just in time to see a large snow-white owl swoop down.

It knocked right into Laris’ head, almost knocking off his beaked mask as Amity wisely took a few startled steps back.

With Laris’ hold on the Owlet's bindings loosened, she managed to jerk out of his hold. She dug both her tied wrists into her cloak and revealed a hidden pocket within the cape itself and drew a fire glyph.

“Get her!” Xena shouted as Amity pulled on her mask, becoming invisible among the swarm of guards as she moved further to the back.

She’d tried ‘fighting’ the Owlet before, and it did not end well.

The Owlet only smiled and tapped the glyph, burning the restraints off her wrists and sliding out of the way of a guard lunging for her.

The Owlet darted through the crowd of guards, leaping and kicking a few to get momentum to where Laris was frantically trying to gather up all the stolen glyphs he’d dropped.

“Thanks for holding these,” The Owlet grinned, causing him to jerk his head upwards.

The white owl swooped down again, shrieking as it kicked and clawed at Laris’ mask, making him yelp and stumble back.

Owlet ducked to the side as a guard threw a spear that impaled through one of her plant glyphs.

“Hey, rude!” The Owlet snapped, grabbing multiple glyphs off the ground. “Now I can’t use that one.” She complained before grabbing a new plant glyph and tossing it at one of the guards.

It lit up upon impact and a massive vine exploded from their forehead, reaching out and entangling many of the other guards.

“C’mon now, don’t be shy.” The Owlet said, stepping back and scooping up more glyphs in her other hand and spreading them both out like fans, showing what she had to the guards.

“Who wants to go next?”

“Ten snails say that she’s late again.”

“She is not going to be late again.”

Among the many other things the residents of Bonesborough dealt with were certain...thrill-seekers. Namely kids who had discovered the newest hiding spot of the Owl House and tried to have a little fun. Which ranged from waiting to see if they could catch a glimpse of one of the residents or trying to break in. Yes, that happened.

Twice.

The Owl House may have gotten a new hiding spot every month, but it was never overly far from Bonesborough. And Hooty did his job well.

During break-ins, that is.

“Jorah, I’m telling you, Owlet is definitely going to be late. My uncle said she got caught by the Emperor’s Coven again.”

“I’m not giving up my snails that easily!” The boy snapped, glaring at his other three friends. “I still have three minutes left.”

“You stubborn idiot,” One of his friends shook her head.

“Frances, I dare you to go talk to the tube bird.” A second girl grinned.

“I am not doing that.” Frances shook her head. “First of all, I’ll be caught. Second of all, that thing terrifies me.”

“Then why did you come?” Jorah raised a brow.

“Because you guys would bully me if I didn’t,” She grumbled.

“She’s not wrong,” The fourth kid shrugged.

“It’s just because you’re a wimp.” The second girl taunted.

“Would it kill you both to shut up?”

There was a snap and a thump from far off in the trees, and all four kids went quiet. They ducked down in the bushes that were only a few meters from the house.

Frances slowly stuck her head between the bushes and looked around.

Mere moments later, a figure flew out from the trees and crashed to the ground in front of the Owl House, groaning as her staff clattered onto the front porch.

“Hi, Luz!” Hooty greeted.

“Am I late?” The Owlet worried, taking off her needless mask and hanging it around her neck.

“Hmmm, nope! You got here with a minute to spare.” Hooty said cheerfully.

“I’ll take it,” Luz sighed with relief. “Sorry, Snowy.” She apologized to her palisman, picking up her staff and stroking the birds head.

Snowy chirped and turned her head away grumpily, but didn’t refuse the pets.

“I WIN!” Jorah cheered before slapping his hands back over his mouth.

Luz whirled around, staff raised and body tense as Frances darted back into the bush as her, and everyone else, gave Jorah furious glares and terrified looks.

“Who’s there?” Luz demanded, raising her staff.

“Some kids were betting in the bushes,” Hooty said, head coming out of the door slightly. “They thought you were going to be late again.”

“Oh,” Luz instantly relaxed, looking mildly annoyed at the worst. “Well, since they’re game is over and I’ve got a certain someone who’s going to be visiting and berating me soon, do you mind escorting them off?” She asked the door bird.

“Would I?” Hooty said excitedly.

“No, no! We’ll leave, we’ll leave!” Frances shouted, quickly getting up and already backing away.

“Too late!” Hooty chirped before extending his neck straight-on towards the kids.

They screamed and began bolting back through the woods, Hooty talking gleefully all the way.

“Sorry, kids,” Luz winced, a tad regretful as she placed Snowy back on her staff. She then opened the front door and stepped inside.

“You’re late,”

Luz sighed and looked towards the couch, where Lilith was ‘casually’ having a cup of tea.

“No, I’m not. I had one minute to spare. Could you not hear Hooty?” Luz said, hanging her mask on a hook by the door and resting her staff next to it.

“It was a very close call.” Lilith said simply. “You left, what, over three hours ago? You only went to get vegetables and spoons.”

“...well I got the spoons,” Luz said, sheepishly pulling out a handful of silver spoons from a pocket in her cape.

“Good enough for me!”

King scampered into the living room and climbed up Luz’s leg to snatch the spoons from her hand. She didn’t bother to react or stop him as he dropped back to the ground and hurried into the kitchen.

“Nice to see you still alive, kid,” Eda greeted much more casually as she poked her head in. “No vegetables, though?”

“Sorry, you’ll have to get them yourself.” Luz apologized. “I kinda...maybe…” She glanced at Lilith and weighed her options for a moment. “...got caught by the Emperor’s Coven.”

“Again?” Eda and Lilith accused.

“They got the jump on me!” Luz defended. “Besides, it was only Amity’s group again. Nothing to be worried about.”

“Kid, at this point, I’m convinced you want to be caught just to bug Amity,” Eda snickered, shaking her head.

“Well, it’s not true all the time…”

“You both are ridiculous,” Lilith shook her head. “Eda, you need better control over your apprentice.”

“Says you,” Eda rolled her eyes. “In case you haven’t noticed, not every kid is like Amity.”

The front door slammed open, startling the inhabitants as they whirled around. Even King poked his head out of the kitchen.

A rather grumpy Amity stood in the doorway, mask pushed up on her head. She hadn’t even bothered to change.

“Speak of the devil,” Eda muttered.

“Hey, Amity,” Luz waved shyly.

“Again with the glyph tattoos?” She demanded, shutting the door.

“You’re still on about those?” Lilith blinked.

“They could be useful!” Luz insisted, sitting on the couch, opposite of Lilith. “I may have a lot of pockets and places I can stash glyphs, but the tattoo glyphs could be useful! Especially with the stronger ones.”

“We don’t know what something like that is gonna do to you, kid.” Eda shook her head. “This type of magic hasn’t been used in forever, it’s unlikely you could use magic with those glyphs without causing harm.”

“We don’t know that,” Luz said, scooting further into the corner as Amity exhaustedly sat on the couch between her and Lilith. “It could end up being really useful! And if it ends up being a bad idea, I can get a tattoo over it to cancel out the glyph.”

“You're barely seventeen, Luz. It’s illegal.” Amity pointed out.

“Since when has that ever stopped me?” Luz raised a brow. “And can’t I get them with permission from Eda? Or is that just a human realm thing?”

“How much have you saved for one already?” Eda asked.

“Almost two hundred,” Luz said proudly. “I wanted to try and get a less-dangerous spell first. Like a fire or a whirlwind glyph.”

“A fire glyph?” Lilith exclaimed.

“Would you rather I have a glyph that will shoot a spike of ice from my skin?” Luz raised a brow.

“Luz, for Titans sake, my parents are rich ,” Amity groaned, running a hand down her face. “I can pay for any of your tattoos you don’t have to excessively steal while you save.”

“It’s your parents who are rich, Amity. Not you,” Luz reminded. “I’m not forcing you to talk to them for snails for my sake. What kind of degenerate asks her girlfriend's parents for snails to get tattoos?”

“First of all, you’re not forcing me.” Amity raised a hand. “Second of all, I meant I would ask Ed and Em to be the ones to ask for the money. I promised I’d never speak to my parents again, and I’m upholding that.”

“Too bad, I’m paying for this myself.” Luz crossed her arms and turned on the couch so she was leaning against the armrest and lay her legs across Amity’s lap. “So take that, Miss Blight.”

“Shush,” Amity grumbled, cheeks pink as she glanced away.

“Hmm,” Eda thought, leaning on the other side of the couch armrest. “I guess a small one wouldn’t hurt…”

“You can’t be serious?” Lilith demanded. “You’re allowing this?”

“My kid, my rules.” Eda said, giving her sister a righteous look. “It’ll only be a small one, anyway. See how it goes before we try more.”

“You’re the best!” Luz grinned, reaching behind her to grasp at Eda, who stepped out of range.

“I know I am,” Eda said proudly.

“Amity, you’ve dated into a family of morons.” Lilith deadpanned, looking towards her apprentice and taking a sip of her tea.

“You’re part of the family, too.” Eda pointed out.

“Suffer with the rest of us, you fiend!” King called, trotting in from the kitchen and climbing up onto the couch to flop on Luz’s stomach, making her wheeze at the sudden weight.

“I regret a lot of my life choices, but especially the one that led me to this moment.” Lilith grumbled.

“Then maybe you shouldn’t have cursed me when I was sleeping, huh?” Eda sneered.

“I don’t think that cemented it in--”

“Irrelevant,”

Luz, Amity and King all silently watched the women continue bantering for a few minutes before they all looked at each other with faces that said ‘well this isn’t going to end soon.’

“Anyway,” Luz sat up more and picked King up to place him on the couch head. “I told Gus I’d be meeting him at the library for more studying. He said he found some old human relics that could be enchanted.”

“Actual enchantments this time, or alleged enchantments?” King raised a brow.

“Actual enchantments, King.” Luz said, swinging her feet off Amity and getting up.

“I’ll come with,” Amity said, quickly getting to her feet as well. “Since you’re going to be using my hiding spot, as per usual.”

“Excuse you, I think the correct term is our hiding spot.” Luz teased, kissing her cheek. “But don’t you have to send in a report later?”

“Keene can take care of it,” Amity waved her hand like it was no big deal. “You’re more important.”

“Aww, you’re so sweet,” Luz teased, laying her head on Amity’s shoulder.

“Hey, flirting teenagers, could you not do this in the middle of our argument?” Eda snapped her fingers, getting the girls attention. “I’m about to win it.”

“No you are not! I am making reasonable points!” Lilith insisted.

“You’re not even arguing about the curse anymore!” King threw his small paws in the air. “You're just bringing up mild annoyances that happened last week!”

“Your point?”

Luz rolled her eyes before turning and smiling to Amity. She returned her look of smothered amusement.

“Let’s hurry before they start getting into a glyph-fight,” Luz said, grabbing the witch's hand and hurrying to the door, making sure to grab her mask and staff along the way.

“You do know that people recognize you more with the mask than without it, right?” Amity asked, flipping her own mask down.

“I know, but I think it looks cool.” Luz shrugged, bringing up her hood. “Last one to the library has to clean Hooty!” She shouted before throwing open the door and racing out.

“Wha--not fair!” Amity shouted, tearing after the Owlet as she raised her staff and flew into the air, laughing all the way.

Amity summoned her own snake staff from the air beside her and leapt onto it. But by then, the Owlet was already gone, having raced through the trees and into the town.

And aside from the occasional on-looker, nobody batted an eye.

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ask-the-clergy-bc · 4 years

Note

I hope you're still accepting requests! What would the papas (including Popia pls) react to someone at their ritual having a genuine one white eye™?

Oooooh, honestly I want this to be a fic...

Papas/Copia reacting to seeing someone with the “Emeritus Eye” (TM lol)

Papa Nihil: Nihil had almost panicked when the Ritual for that night was over, and Copia had stopped to meet some of the fans. Copia was the first to go pale when he met you and felt the potency of the Emeritus Eye you possessed. Nihil himself was, quite frankly, shitting bricks thinking he had another bastard that he had no idea about... which wasn’t impossible! But Nihil couldn’t recall any wayward lovers he hadn’t seen in a while!

He was very relieved when Imperator was called and didn’t immediately rip him a new one. From what the ghouls with them have said, you were just a lucky chosen of Lucifer... either way, you were ordered to be brought back with the Grand Papa. Copia and Nihil had no idea how to accomplish this without looking and feeling like they were just abducting you. But you were happy enough to come chat in the back of the venue with the promise of meeting Copia! When you saw Nihil there too, you got the feeling this would be more than an impromptu meet and greet...

Papa I: Lucifer always communes with Papa when an important omen is about to appear. The project was small but slowly growing. In Papa’s dreams he was told of a new, invaluable member of the Clergy ready to be plucked like a forbidden apple. Papa went to the new venue for the band just grateful for the slow but steady size of their following... but he wasn’t expecting you to be in the first row! You had just discovered this really cool band, and were so happy to see them live! t

hey were still new to the music scene, but you had memorized each and every song! You’d always had this strange eye and just thought how cool it was the lead singer shared your same look, even if his was probably just a costume. Imagine your delight when Papa nearly had you fixed on the spot with his gaze- watching as you sang every song word for word with him. It almost felt Euphoric and deeply connecting like you’ve never felt with a band. Even when the set ended his gaze lingered on you... who would have thought being front row would have landed you a special VIP pass to go meet him!

Papa II: Originally you thought security was kicking you out of the venue when you were escorted off the concert floor- when the show hadn’t even started yet! But you nearly screamed out in excitement when you were shown the back area where the dressing rooms were! The tour manager met you and explained that Papa Emeritus II HIMSELF asked you back stage! And at first, you thought you were going to end up as a groupie pleasure call... but it was far from it.

Papa’s dressing room was very well furnished and stocked, and the man himself half ready for his set. He was as polite and charming as you could imagine- but he had a serious and deadly air about him. When you sat and accepted a glass of wine he was blunt with you- your eye. He tells you he knows it’s not a contact and it’s certainly not some medical defect. Papa almost commands you tell him what you know of it... and you do. Papa listens and nods before telling you it would be wise if, after this, you come back with him to the clergy. You are caught off guard since you can;’t just drop your life like this!! But he assures you... you’re going to have to as you are a chosen of Lucifer.

Papa III: Meet and Greets were always a huge deal for the Meliora tours. Papa was used to seeing fans always dress up in costume- everything from their own habits to replicas of his outfit! In and out of costume, many always bought contacts to replicate his eye. Blasphemy in the Clergy, flattery to the normal world- he loved seeing it! But when you walked in... it felt like all the heat left the room. You were shy as he eyed you the entire time you approached him and the ghouls. Even the camera crew could feel the tension as they set up.

You had no idea why everything was staring at you- were they just this unfriendly? Papa took your hand gently as you nearly began to shake and smiled knowingly. After the photo you were stopped by Papa personally and asked if you’d like to have dinner with him and the band- which made you floored. You accepted and felt a strange feeling in your gut when he smiled and said, “Good- we have so much to discuss, little one.”

Papa IV/Cardinal Copia: Admittedly, when Copia saw you and sensed that you were a chosen child of Lucifer- he was absolutely nervous and terrified. Because your presence meant one of two things. That Nihil or one of his Sons have spawned a bastard that could usurp him... or that he isn’t the ONLY non Emeritus to have gotten unblessed with the eye. Either way, this meant severe competition for him. Copia was so off put by your presence that he nearly messed up the entire ritual wondering about you. It wasn’t until he chose you to Cirice that he knew you were, undoubtedly, unblessed by Him.

You, on the other hand, were just having the best night of your life. To you, you felt like Copia was paying so much attention to you compared to other fans! Was this a dream? You even got Ciriced! The only thing that could make your night better was getting invited to meet all the ghouls! It seemed to you like a very disorganized, last minute surprise the crew made for “a few lucky people.” You were “randomly” chosen with a handful of others to get extra picks, goodies, and pictures with the whole band. You anxiously waited your turn, as you were the last in line. When you got to see the band and Copia... it felt like they were staring into your soul. Copia gave you a less than thrilled smile as he invited you to talk more... could this be real?

#the band ghost #ghost bc #Ghost headcanon #reader insert #papa nihil #papa emeritus i #papa emeritus ii #papa emeritus iii #papa emeritus iv #cardinal copia

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meet-me-in-the-kitchen · 4 years

Text

What Once Was Mine College!AU

In which Y/N and Harry are old lovers who somehow find their way back to each other amidst this chaos.

If a pandemic cancels the remainder of your spring semester, and your recent ex decides to suspend the rules of your breakup in case “the apocalypse” keeps you apart forever, and you find yourself lying once again in his bed, your faces flushed, the afternoon humming by outside, take your time with leaving. The future will charge onward, but for now you can allow the memory of other lazy days you spent in this bed to envelop you entirely. You would like to believe this feeling transcends whatever comes next. For an hour or two, it does.

It had started with a fateful cough, class cancellations, and a choice to stay.

“Aren’t you gonna get up?” Katia, one of your roommates, questioned from the room outside of yours. She wasn’t bunking with you; the girl who had been, Elise, had mysteriously left about a week ago, when you’d woken up to find no trace of her usual throw pillows or belongings in the bed across from yours. “It’s the last day of classes, you know.”

You did know. You were all too aware of this fact, following the sudden declaration of a virus more minuscule than a grain of salt’s permeation of the world. The university had decided to close classes and encourage all students who were able to evacuate the surroundings as quickly as possible, heading home before the virus spread enough to veto travel entirely. Students took to this, although a bit anxious in regards to their tuition, refunds, and housing.

You had these concerns, as well. The virus didn’t seem real at first. You went through the stages of believing the media was exaggerating the virus, and then thinking that it wasn’t really a threat to youth, but that it was one’s civic duty to stay inside so those with weaker immune systems could thrive. What had concerned you most was tuition and housing. But, right now, you were all too aware of the empty space next to your bed. The fact that you’d stayed in your dormitory all of last and this week studying for assessments and exams, only to somehow end up with a heaviness in your head, a clammy, burning feel to your forehead.

You were sick with something. And it terrified you.

“I’m thinking of just getting a head start on packing,” you answer hesitantly, trying to string the words together as confidently as possible, all too aware of how your throat felt sore trying to accomplish this. “I don’t think there’ll be any actual classes, or not much of anything substantial, anyway.”

“Okay,” your roommate piped uncertainly. “Er, do you want me to help you when I come back?”

“No!” you cleared your throat, trying to mask the horror. “I mean... it’s fine, I just need to do this alone.”

“You’ve been locked in your room a while, sweetie,” Katia said kindly from outside of the door, and you felt your heart stop. “I know with all of the stuff with Harry, it’s only natural, but I’m here for you, ‘kay?”

“M’kay. Thanks, Kat.”

You heard the door click shut.

—

Harry.

Harry. Harry. Harry.

It had been so long since you’d seen him. Since the break-up. Not all of it was about pent-up emotions, though. There was also the whole “I think my roommate gave me coronavirus before she fled the residence” which kept you from wandering outside of your room. But you’d be lying if the way you’d broken up hadn’t served as a motivator to keep you cooped up in your dormitory, completely isolated.

Tears pricked your eyes as you remembered the fight. The one you’d instigated when he’d done absolutely wrong, when it was your insecurities that had presented themselves in the privileged setting, the flirtatious looks he was on the receiver end of. The feeling that he’d never truly be yours, and that he was never meant to be, in the first place.

“You always do this,” he’d growled, alcohol in his bloodstream, but the bitter truth on his lips. “This is what you do, isn’t it, sweetheart?” the words so harshly spoken, his fingers digging into your wrist, eyes intoxicated but clearer than you’d ever seen. “You fuckin’ run...they always run.”

“Harry, let me go,” you’d said quietly, looking down while you still felt the unbearable iciness of his stare.

“Let you go,” he had laughed bitterly, throwing back another swig of alcohol with his free hand. The one that wasn’t only tightening his grip on yours. “I’m the one...”

“Harry,” you’d whimpered, face crumpling. “Harry, you’re hurting me.”

You weren’t referring to the wrist.

He had paused. His darkened gaze trained on yours, lips parting with each heavy breath, eyes intensely searching your face for anything, everything you could give him. Then, they averted. Defeated. His grip loosened.

“This time,” his voice was thick with suppressed emotion, the same storminess in his eyes. “This time, if you run, don’t come back.”

Now, you were painfully aware of how alone you were. In a dormitory thinking you were infected with something too scary to try to comprehend. Unable to go outside, because you didn’t want this to affect anyone else, but also unable to get tested, because you weren’t yet a priority. You were surviving off of granola bars you’d picked up not long before this catastrophe began, along with a bunch of cold medicine and fluids. With no one to call. No home to return to, besides one filled with people who couldn’t give a rat’s ass about you.

“I’ve driven away the only person who cared,” your voice broke, as your stomach rumbles. You didn’t have the heart to grab another stale granola bar or saltine.

—

Harry’s worried, to say the least.

After that Friday night, nearly a week and a half ago, you’ve disappeared on him. At first, he was a shell of himself, showing up to classes, a hardened aspect to him. You’d really hurt him, and he felt he had the right to be upset.

But once the third day passed with no sight of you, he’d grown a bit curious. You weren’t one to miss classes: you’d once shown up hungover out of your mind, with a killer headache, but still willing to offer your analysis of Franny and Zooey, and why it was a love story before anything else.

Were you okay?

When this question had initially circulated through his mind the first couple of days, he’d merely scoff to himself. Why wouldn’t you be? You’d toyed with his emotions, unhinged all of his trust. He thought you got some sick satisfaction out of it. He wasn’t going to keep chasing you, forever.

After the first week, he began asking people. Just casually, to people who didn’t know you closely enough to tell you. He spoke to people you knew were apart of organizations you were passionate about and in. Nada. Zilch.

He’d resorted to asking Katia, seeing as your other roommate was gone, and she’d simply huff and leave.

Today was the last of day of classes, and, quite frankly, Harry realized as he watched the professor lecture on how classes would be commencing, he was angry. Furious.

“Of course,” he whispers darkly. “Of course, she gets to be locked up in the tower, feeling sorry for herself after she hurt me.”

“Er, what?” Niall rose a bit from his cat nap, eyes trained curiously on his fuming friend, who suddenly rose, fingers clenched to fists at his sides.

Harry left the lecture hall with a straight face, and walked a ways away before picking up his cellphone and finally dialling the number he’d religious avoided for days now.

“H-hello,” your voice came out incredibly soft through the receiver, and he hated that it made him want to kiss you everywhere.

“Where are you?”

His voice comes out harsh. Clipped.

“I’m in my dormitory,” you answer with confusion evident in your voice. “Why—”

He hangs up.

—

When you hear a loud rapping against your door, you regret giving him the key to your dormitory. All that separates you now is a bedroom door.

Fuck, you think, eyes wildly darting everywhere to plan an escape. You can’t risk letting him in here, either. This means you can’t jump out the window avoiding him.

“Y/N,” his voice is deep, loud, and however cold it is, you so desperately want to let him in. “Let me in.”

“N-no,” you wince at the way your voice trembles. “I can’t.”

“Cut the shit,” he snaps, and you flinch. “You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to pretend that you’re the one struggling, when you can’t even commit to me.”

You said nothing, tears welling in your eyes. Everything he had said was the truth.

“Stay out, Harry,” you keep your voice cool and even, this time. “Haven’t I made it clear that I don’t want you here?”

The other end of the door is silent, and your face falls. You lean back against the headboard of your bed, thinking he’s gone. He’s finally left, and you don’t like the feeling that wells in your chest in response to this fact.

Fate works in funny ways, sometimes.

You cough.

It’s a standard cough: reverberating through your chest, reacting to the phlegm congesting your oesophagus almost itchingly, and disrupting the natural rhythm of your breaths. It’s loud enough. Raspy.

You think you’re alone to do it, until a voice calls from the other end of the door; and it’s hoarse, tight.

“Y/N?”

“Er,” you pause uncertainly, wondering if it really would be that dangerous for you to jump ship out of the window and run. “Yes?”

“Was that,” his voice is low, hushed. “...Was that a cough?”

You could have laughed. Although the circumstances were admittedly dire, the mental image of Harry backing up and fleeing the scene like a headless chicken at the rasp of a cough conjures some amusement.

“That’s what they tell me,” you reply awkwardly. A girl can only take so much transparency.

“Do you have any other...” he trails off.

“Harry,” you dead-pan. “I’m fine. You can leave.”

Silence.

“No.”

“Harry—“

“Let me in, Y/N.”

“I can’t,” you stress, eyes widening in panic. “Just go..okay? It’s not what you think.”

“Why can’t you let me in, then?”

Relentless.

“Has it ever occurred to you that I just don’t want you to come inside?”

He scoffs. You hear the door knob being fiddled with and curse, as he promptly swings the door open after some hankering. You bury yourself under the covers. For all the money you were throwing at this institution, the least they could do was offer a decent lock system.

Harry takes in the disorganized dormitory; steps inside with no invitation. His eyes linger with interest at the Nature Valley granola bars located on Y/N’s dorm room floor. He steps over a few boxes, sits down at the corner of your bed with confident air.

“Stay away from me,” you groaned. He raised an eyebrow.

“Why, exactly, should I do that?”

“Because,” you pause, preparing yourself to tell the truth. Your eyes stare ahead at the inside of your blanket, burning. “I’ve been coughing, and my throat’s closing up.”

“And?”

“I think I have it,” you whisper, brokenly. Eyes welling with tears.

He promptly throws the blanket upwards, slides into the bed beside you. He grabs a Nature Valley bar on his way up. You gawk openly at him as his toes dance while his fingers tear at the plastic wrapper, bringing the bar to his mouth with great interest. He bites into it, and recoils a little.

“Not my flavour,” he comments, blithely. As if that’s any explanation.

“Are you stupid,” you stress, eyes wide as saucers. “I just told I think I have COVID-19, and you’re helping yourself to my rations?”

He snorts.

“Is this why you haven’t been coming to class?” Harry asks, forest green eyes twinkling slightly with a blend of amusement, but also awe, to your dismay. Your stubborn silence causes him to let out an uncharacteristic bark of laughter. You shoot him a dirty look.

“To think I thought it was because of something I’d said,” he marvels, with another bite and subsequent recoil to the snack bar. He shakes his head. “You, Y/L/N, have a way of messing with a bloke’s head.

“Forgive me,” you spit, “for fulfilling my civic duty of—“

“Civic duty?”

For some reason, this sends him into peals of laughter.

“Yes,” you smart, crossly. “My—“

“You,” he inches closer, and you move back cautiously, until you’re pressed up against the wall, and his chest is pressed to yours. You can feel his breath warmly fanning onto your flushed cheeks. “are not sick.”

“What in God’s name do you—“

He waved the half-eaten granola bar to your face, tellingly. Thumbed over the fine-print stating ‘peanuts included.’

You blanch. Blink.

“Oh.”

Allergies. Right-O.

“Yeah,” he chews slowly, moving back so his back is against the headboard, “Oh.”

You settled, after a quiet, but not uncomfortable pause.

“Since you’re here, I wanted to apolo—“

“Splendid day we’re having, isn’t it?” He turned to you. “Want to go on a walk and eat something besides that which you are direly allergic to?”

Or stay home. What, with an offer like that?

“Please.”

—

It’s an awful shame, you think as you both step past the stone statues and into the path led by aged, looming sycamores and dolorous baby blue jays, that this pandemic hit right as things were coming alive again.

“It’s strange, isn’t it?” you voice, as Harry stops by the tree under which you’d kissed for the first time, fingers tracing the rough patterns of the branches before you both came to rest with backs against the trunk. “Life for us seems to have stopped. We stay home. Don’t come back to college for God knows how long, but things are still happening. Life exists outside of the virus. Babies are still being born, tragedy still strikes. It feels wrong, but right at the same time.”

“A little early to be pensieve,” Harry notes, but you can tell by the glint in his eyes that he’s teasing. You know he knows what you mean. He always does. Used to.

“Days spent banished to a chamber with poisonous granola bars as the only ration will do that,” you counter, and he steps up, giving you a hand. You take it. Somewhere along the way, you let it go, and narrow your eyes at his blank look.

“Last one to your dorm is a rotten loser,” you exclaim, feet working quickly to get you up those stairwells, with him hot on your heels.

Ten minutes later, you’re both sprawled on his bed, the sun peeking through the curtains and miscellaneous snacks scattered about as you feast.

At some point, mid-chew with a Wagon Wheel stuffed in your mouth rather ravishingly, you find yourself glancing curiously at him.

“Why’re you doing this?”

It hadn’t exactly ended prettily. He shrugs.

“In case the apocalypse keeps us apart forever.”

And you stay.

Because, if a pandemic cancels the remainder of your spring semester, and your recent ex decides to suspend the rules of your breakup in case “the apocalypse” keeps you apart forever, and you find yourself lying once again in his bed, your faces flushed, the afternoon humming by outside, take your time with leaving. The future will charge onward, but for now you can allow the memory of other lazy days you spent in this bed to envelop you entirely. You would like to believe this feeling transcends whatever comes next. For an hour or two, it does.

Masterlist

#was sitting in the back of my mind #harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles imagines

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butterfly-winx · 4 years

Note

Do you have any thoughts or headcanons on headmistress Griffin?

Yes I do!

- Her name is Misandra Griffin, she is slightly younger than Faragonda (so about 54-60 in my AU timeline) and she is Magics/Petrakalia mixed

- She and Stormy actually come from the same coven, but Stormy doesn’t remember that

- Her primary occupation before becoming an apprentice to the Ancestresses was “being a traveller” - meaning she was an untrained magic user roaming the lands and offering help for bed and broth

- She met Tharma on the way as the old woman was being swept up by the unforeseen consequences of her own mischief. Griffin helped her and Tharma, frankly impressed by her raw potential took her in as an apprentice

- With the Ancestresses, Griffin picked blood magic as her form of discipline (meaning the cost of Griffin’s spells are paid in her blood or other people’s). Her aspect has been revealed to be seismology, but since neither of the old three knew earth aspect magic, she was raised on quite aspect transcendent magic (aka stuff anyone could do)

- While with them, Griffin was also in charge of the Creche, the back up plan of the Ancestresses should they die at some point. This involved lineage tracing of various witch communities determining which couple’s children may be potentially suited for the Ancestresses to be reincarnated into

- While there was no Valtor in my AU at this time, the Ancestresses were preparing for some sort of Arrival, that scared Griffin. She served and assisted the Ancestresses, but their talks grew more and more incomprehensible to her and when they stopped talking about genocide and started conquering, that’s when Griffin got cold feet and deserted them to join King Oritel and his alliance, as it was his planet the witches threatened to destroy incessantly

- Griffin low-key can’t stand Saladin. They get along fine after all the battles they fought together, but it wasn’t really true friendship at first sight for them.

- Griffin considers Faragonda like a sister, someone who will always stand by her side and back her up if needed. Someone who she doesn’t need to explain herself to, because the other will implicitly understand her motivations anyway. Someone who she can rely on and who relies on her with just as much wholehearted trust

- After the war, things were hard for Griffin, as people kept accusing her of having been a turncoat one last time, not having told the Company of Light that Valtor and the witches would split, leading to the destruction of Domino (while Valtor held up the CoL, the Ancestresses went after Daphne on Domino). Saladin and Faragonda stood by her side and together with the remainder of the Red Fountain Cavalry, the three of them transformed the Company of Light from a military alliance to the flourishing federation it is at current day

- Being the headmistress is a recent career development for her. The Council of Witch*ers who oversee the education of their peers elected her only six years prior to S1. She looses the job after S6, when they deem she has had too many failings in her tenure to be trusted with the position further

- Griffin knew about the plan/possibility of the Ancestresses reincarnating. When visiting her old coven she has met Stormy several times when the other was just a baby, but she didn’t know the plan had been successful until the once chubby baby showed up at her school’s doorstep with two eerily familiar sisters by her side. Dismayed, Griffin still didn’t say anything, hoping fate could play out different this time. (the Trix announced themselves as descendants on their own, taking this decision out of Griffin’s hands, and while Griffin kept lying about her ignorance on the topic to the rest of the world, Faragonda was the only one she couldn’t obscure the truth from)

- Despite appearing righteous and frightening, Griffin is actually quite ruled by fear. Her primary aim is to protect herself, but for her that comes with protecting others as opposed to throwing them under the bus to save her own life

- She has a great love for children and considers the students of Cloud Tower to be like hers, a transient coven into which each and every graduate is welcome back to, should their paths cross again

- She overhauls teaching plans in her free time. She would rather combust than admit how much she takes students words to heart and audits the material each year to fit the learning group, mindful of cultural and personal sensibilities of the students. Her heart swells with joy every time she hears her pupils chat happily about the material, but always pretends she just reads them what had been sanctioned by the Council of Witch*ers

- In S3 she was quite afraid when Valtor and the Trix rocked up to her school, both for herself and for the children. She knew she couldn’t protect them and that Valtor would want to exact personal vengeance on her backed by the reincarnation of her old masters. She let herself be beaten, too overwhelmed to fight back

- When the Trix return in S6 she realises she isn’t facing the terrifying ghosts of her past, rather three other full adults in control of their actions and with own ambitions aside from what their old souls might have been telling them. She fought bitterly then

- The reason she is not overly resentful of the Trix after that is that she is knows they could have easily killed her after they defeated her. Even Selena’s cruelty in using her as a spell counterweight was shaped so that she could survive (She gets turned into a crow, remember?). They always left her a chance. Knowing this, Griffin can’t think of them as purely bad and beyond saving. Not when she has witnessed Tharma’s kindness on that first day they met. Not when she has to acknowledge, the Trix brought a very important topic onto the forefront of peoples minds by questioning the world’s treatment of witches. And she thinks as an educator, as a Coven Mother, she should have been there for them then, to make sure they channel their frustration into something constructive, to not let their desperation morph into poison in their hearts. To show them the future they could have had

- Griffin suffers from considerable insomnia, laying awake some nights wallowing in the mistakes of her life, praying for a chance at reincarnation to make it all right again. Faragonda often reminds her that they each have a specific role to play in the Universe’s grande stage play of Fate - humorlessly Griffin begs to be recast in this case, making Faragonda chuckle each time

- Griffin has always and will always go her own way, and there may be a day this road takes her away from her current beloved friends and beloved life. She has always been branded as a turncoat, so what’s suffering the name-calling another time?

#asks #oops this got long #I didn't think I had so many ideas until you asked me to write them down #winx club #winx griffin #butterfly fic #headmistress griffin #Anonymous

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