cain hcs with some sprinkle of cain x reader + luna lovegood!reader
CW: might be ooc, but I'll try my best
` cain would be a girl dad. yes. i will die on this hill. but, considering his upbringing and certain things abt his character, developed or not, hed never have a child. (seeking the truth and exploring illegal areas while having a family isnt always the best idea [if he does continue to do so in the epilogue])
` hed name his child something that relates to 'protection'. (like Anselm (german origin): means "with divine protection" or "protected by God".)
` he often uses those free pens people just give away or store on the shelf in poorly managed drug stores.
` matching pfps is a concept he will never understand, but if you wanted to (deep into your rs), he MIGHT. on a good day.
` he would def 100% asf af go SO WELL with a luna lovegood adjacent mc. he would be weirded out by them at first, but then start to form a solid connection with them cuz they both are seen as peculiar + outsiders, and dont tell me they wouldnt be so knee deep into random 3am research sessions. (yes im projecting my w2t mc, wait) + luna is so brutally honest and emotionally intelligent.
` cain would like gimbap. made methodogically and ingredients visible.
` if mc could draw, he would keep their little doodles either as a bookmark or a charm of some sort. he'd never admit it though.
` mc wearing anything that he owns would boost his ego.
` has a book or two of the HP series but deeply resonates with harry (...prophecy..chosen one..used and different) and maybe snape.
` he would be so irritating if he were to get jealous. making snide comments like "you shouldve just stayed with them." or he'd js be so quiet and pushy about it that it would make his s/o question their sanity and drown in endless guilt
` he got a free anime tshirt once while passing by a local convention (the hosts just shoved it in his arms and walked away). It had kawaii on the back. pink text, black tee
` he would like jinramyeon lowk.. Im not sure if he would like enoki mushrooms with it though.
` he likes his boiled eggs hardboiled.
` he would pour the milk before the cereal
` he's ticklish/sensitive around his nape.
` hes physically unable to jump rope. like. holy shit
` likes being the big spoon, loves being the big spoon with a taller s/o
just a little drabble for cain.. because im starving .. for w2t fics.. uuuuehhge... im rusty okay dont judge illwrite more soon
tw: none, maybe some bad grammar and bad symbolism but whatever, its been 2 years since i last wrote, cain, crammed this in 2 hours since i needed to get this done before my assignments, yes my life choices count as a trigger warning. this is what you get take it im one of the few people feeding the w2t fand- cain is barely directly mentioned, but take it as you wish genre: angst(?)
you run through the rough cobblestone floor-
was it cobblestone? you dont remember. your body is heavy, bleeding, maybe. but you dont know where exactly. whispers and shadows follow you, but you keep running. feet bare, hands wet with something far beyond your understanding.
mud, dirt, wet, blood, red, wet.
solid, rough, .. wisdom. truth?
you shouldve never went with them.
CAIN was right. you shouldve just skipped town. never ripped off a tab, never talked about that silver haired man, never mentioned the ripples of false reality inside the odd moments of your boring, episodic life. never shouldve went to the museum, never shouldve confided in him---never shouldve deemed yourself as his friend within 2 days of barely knowing him, never...
you breathe through your heavy lungs, you crouch. (or rather, fall to your knees. you crawl over to his body like a lovesick undead)
they stare at you, in horror. their faces contorted into the same ones they wore when they saw it. your subconscious begins to form thoughts, filling your barren yet occupied brain.
'mustve been the stupidity of your actions. the desperation behind them curling into your soul as if it were natural. a path you were destined to follow. it might also be the way you look right now, your hair dangles from either sides of your face, crimson draped around you like some sort angel that witnessed carnage , seeking shelter within its master.
but it doesnt matter.
you slide the palm of your hand to his carotid, you whisper. incoherent to others, clear to him.
his eyes dont open, but the wound that shaped the side of his neck slowly fades away, a fleeting mark.
you heave a sigh, then laughter (?) begins to spill from your throat. it hurts, now, all of a sudden.
it burns. where? when did it-
you wrap your arms around yourself, then slowly turn your head down. you hear muffled sobs, the shallow breaths of traumatized men making itself known.
ah. you attempt to form a crooked smile. the same one you gave him, on the day you all decided to come down. to face a fate too distinct to be anyone elses. it hurts. it hurts. does it matter?
you retch, your own shaky hands cup your mouth. you hear static, then the recording of a woman singing jazz on the radio with an unknown frequency .. his voice.
ringing--then, finally, nothing.
you wander through the domain, hands trying to grasp whatever is in front of you. a second passes by until, your vision clears. you start to charge towards his figure, your body is light, you can breathe (?) now.
tears barely escape your eyes before youre in his arms, again. let your colors bleed, and blend into mine.
you reach for eachother, souls intertwined, and it feels right. it feels warm, and safe, and true. those who are lost tend to tip over their own scale, bringing down their love with them.
but you two were always peculiar, and outsider for an outsider. the weight of his past heavier than any kilogram of matter, yet.. lost, reunited, now a return to balance.
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