#''was introduced as nothing more than a wrench to throw into a couple's relationship''

[pulisicsgirl]

home for the holidays - mason mount

summary: just when nothing seems to be going right for Mason and Y/N, her Christmas plans are foiled for the second year in a row, leaving her unsure of how to approach the topic with Mason

pairing: Mason Mount x reader

word count:

warnings/tags: a little bit of angst at the beginning but it all turns fluffy for the rest of it, pre-established relationship, mentions of Mason’s recent injury, hurt/comfort, interrupted beauty sleep, Christmas celebrations :))))))

based on a request from @raremasey as a part two to christmas on my own

notes: Merry Christmas to all who celebrate!!!!! I wasn’t planning on posting another fic before the New Year, but when I got this request, I knew I had to write it in time to post before the holiday season was up! Thank you all for sticking with me through this year 🤍 You all mean more to me than you’ll ever know!! I hope you’re all getting to spend some time resting and enjoying your family/friends!! Please enjoy the fic!!

As Christmas Day approached rather quickly, you thought to yourself that you must never have experienced a holiday season that was quite so dreary.

You had done your best to bring the festive holiday spirit into your home—even into Mason’s as you forced him to join you in decorating his house on the very first day of December, dragging him into a few shops to buy extra decorations to fill his house. He had only pretended to be a little bit annoyed, his aversion to shopping completely overcome by getting to watch the joy on your face while decorating for the holidays. You had spread lights, tinsel, ornaments, and little snowman figurines all over the rooms of his home while you shuffled your Christmas playlist in the background.

Since your addition to his family’s Christmas celebrations last year had been impromptu, this was the first time Mason had gotten to see how much you loved this time of year. He truly thought he had never met someone who was as enthusiastic and joy-filled at the mere thought of Christmas.

However, Mason still couldn’t help but feel a pang of disappointment each time he remembered that you wouldn’t been spending Christmas morning with his family. He tried his best not to show it— he knew how much it meant to you that your family would be traveling to see you this year.

Your relationship with your parents had felt a bit… well, strained over the last year. Ever since the incident of last Christmas, when they had failed to give you an advance notice of their plans to travel to see your brother for the holiday and leaving you to celebrate alone, you couldn’t shake the feeling of being quite low on their list of priorities. It wasn’t just Christmas; it was a host of other incidences as well. You had done your very best to repair what seemed to have been damaged, and the fact that you would get to see your family for the holiday left you overjoyed. With a couple promotions at work this past year, you had been able to move into a nicer, larger flat, and Mason knew you were excited for them to get to see it—not to mention how glad you were to be together with them on Christmas Day and finally get to introduce them to Mason.

Despite this throwing a wrench in his holiday plans, Mason couldn’t help but think life was starting to look up for the two of you. After another brief spell out of the United squad following his head injury, he was back to getting regular minutes on the pitch, and the new gaffer seemed to be working him in as a more important part of the team. And with your successes in your career, you had been more optimistic than ever. And as the two of you approached your first dating anniversary, you both truly couldn’t have been happier together.

But all of that seemed to come crumbling down in the matter of a few days.

When you had gotten the call from your mother, you almost couldn’t believe your ears.

Your brother had unexpectedly received the news that his work schedule had changed, and he would be expected to work on Christmas Eve—meaning he, his wife, and your 2-month-old niece would be unable to travel to visit you. But your father and mother couldn’t possibly bear to miss the little one’s very first Christmas, so instead they would remain at home and your brother (who lived nearby) would host Christmas instead.

Too much in shock to form much of a thought, you had asked if she was sure. But it was final— the flights had already been cancelled, and they were firm in their decision.

Your stomach sank to your feet, and the only thing you could bring yourself to do was end the call without another word to her. Standing in your kitchen, you cried silently, the tears streaming down your cheeks as a million thoughts ran through your mind. You felt that you would never be enough for your parents, wondered what you had done to deserve such treatment from them.

The news felt like a sharp object had been driven into your heart and you spent the rest of your evening curled up on your bed, wallowing in your feelings and ignoring the calls and texts from your mother after you had unexpectedly ended your conversation.

When you awoke the next morning, your first thought was of talking to Mason about the previous night's events—a conversation that would unfortunately have to wait as he had a big game to play today: the highly anticipated Manchester derby. It was a huge game, not only because of the longstanding rivalry between the two teams, but because Mason was expected to be in the starting eleven.

Knowing you couldn’t bear to serve as a distraction from such a huge moment for him after the months and months of hard work it had taken him to get there, you decided your problems would have to wait. You couldn’t talk to him before the game and risk shifting his focus. But you also couldn’t talk to him after the game—if United lost, it would just be rude to make things about yourself instead; but if they won, you couldn’t possibly bring down his good mood with your complaining.

So then, you decided, you would have to tell him tomorrow… or maybe the next day.

You took a hot shower, hoping to wash away the heavy feeling in your chest and the puffiness of your eyes. You had donned your kit with Mason’s name printed across the back and made your way to the Ethiad stadium.

The crowd was buzzing as they awaited the start of the game. You settled into the private box, greeting Mason’s family, and you knew Lewis could tell there was something off with you, but he didn’t mention it. Everyone was overjoyed at the news of the starting lineups, bringing with it the confirmation that Mason would be starting for the first time in quite a while.

You were overjoyed for him, able to put aside your own sorrows for the time being, eyes shining with happy tears as you watched him walk out onto the pitch while the anthem played.

But for the second time in less than 24 hours, your stomach sank as, 14 minutes into the game, you watched Mason wave the physios over as he sat on the grass. He was too far away for you to be able to make out his facial expression, but there was no mistaking the posture of the rest of his body. As he spoke with the physios and they looked him over, his shoulders slumped, a resigned look taking over him.

As if this day needed another disappointment.

The rest of your day had been spent looking after Mason, bringing him anything you thought he could possibly need so he wouldn’t lift a finger and holding him tight in your arms to ease the disappointment of yet another setback in his recovery.

Surely now you couldn’t mention everything with your parents to him just yet. It would be so cruel to make him feel sorry for your when he was facing such a disappointment of his own. Perhaps you would just have to wait until his spirits were lifted—even just a little.

But as days passed and time got away from you, Christmas Day crept closer and closer, and Mason’s mood didn’t seem to be improving at all. You did everything in your power to cheer him up— bought him little treats and left them with notes for him to find, sending sweet little text messages throughout the day to let him know how proud you were of the hard work he was putting into recovering. You even went so far as to take a couple days off of work to make a long weekend for yourself and spent the time off pampering him with a bit of a spa weekend as best you could.

And though he always expressed his appreciation for your efforts, the smile he gave you was all too forced, and you knew he was still hurting inside. He had apologized to you a few times now for “being a right grump,” afraid he would ruin your excitement for Christmas time— and after that, you just didn’t have the heart to tell him that someone had already beat him to it.

So you had resolved to keep it to yourself. He just didn’t have to know, and you decided that was for the best. It tore you up inside to keep something from him, but you told yourself that it would be for his own good, allowing him to focus on his time with his own family instead of on comforting you.

For the next days, you carried the secret around like a weight sitting on your chest, feeling a small pang of grief each time you remembered that you wouldn’t be seeing your family. But you did your best to keep those feeling under wraps, so as not to worry Mason.

It was only 2 days before Christmas, when Mason had decided to stay at yours for the night and you slid under the covers behind him, pressing your chest up against his back ad tangling your bare legs with his. Many months ago, Mason had confessed that he liked to be the little spoon when he was feeling a bit more vulnerable. And after his most recent injury a couple weeks ago, it had become a staple in your nighttime routine with him. You loved the feeling of cuddling up close to his warm skin, and you couldn’t help from pressing a barely-there kiss to the base of his neck, sending a gentle shiver down his spine.

Tucking the blankets in around the two of you, you settled into a comfortable silence, and Mason intertwined his fingers with yours, where your hand was resting on his tummy, giving it an appreciative squeeze.

“Were you able to wrap everything up at work today?” Mason asked softly, knowing you had a few things you needed to get done before taking a few days off for the holidays. You felt a warm feeling in your chest at the fact that, no matter what he was dealing with, Mason always made an effort to ask questions about you—about your day, your work, the friends you had seen recently.

“I was,” you smiled, peppering a couple kisses across his shoulders, overwhelmed with the need to show him a bit of love while you held him in your arms. “Ari helped me get the last of it finished right before I had to leave, so I don’t have to worry about a thing over the break.”

“Good, good,” he breathed, and you could tell he was enjoying the attention you were giving him. “Your parents get in tomorrow, right? Are you excited to see them?”

Your breath hitched in your throat before you could stop it and you froze, trying to come up with a good enough excuse to not talk about the situation.

But you hesitated a moment too long, and Mason caught on easily to the way you’d tensed up behind him.

“Y/N? What is it?” he tried to turn in your grasp as he spoke, but you only held him tighter, pressing your face between his shoulder blades so he couldn’t see the tears that had sprung to your eyes before you had a chance to stop them.

He wriggled in your grasp for a moment, but you knew it was no use, allowing him to pry your arms off his waist so he could turn over and look at you. Your hands flew to your face, covering it as some last-ditch effort to conceal your emotions, but it was far too late, and you knew that.

“Y/N, angel…” You felt Mason’s fingers gently pull at your wrists, and you were left with no choice but to stare back at him with tear-filled eyes. “Talk to me, what’s going on?”

Mason’s brow was furrowed with concern as he reached out to stroke a thumb across your cheek. His mind was reeling, trying to figure out what had you so upset.

“Is it your parents?” You could only manage a nod in return.

“They’re not coming?” Another nod. You watched Mason’s face fall in genuine hurt for you.

“Again?” It was barely a whisper when he said it.

With that single word, it was like the dam had burst, and all of the emotions that you had been holding back for weeks sprung to the surface. You curled yourself into Mason’s chest, no longer able to think about anything other than seeking a bit of comfort in his arms. His hands slipped under your shirt, tracing circles and gentle lines across your skin the way he knew you loved, as he could do nothing else but listen to your soft cries.

It didn’t take long for you to quiet to soft sniffles, and Mason pulled back slightly from you, cradling your jaw in his hand so you’d look up at him.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Mason did his very best not to sound accusatory, but in his mind, he couldn’t think of any reason why you would have kept this from him.

It took you a moment to respond, still working to calm your breathing. “Well, they... um, they told me about the night before the derby,” you started. “And before the game, I didn’t want to distract you, so I decided to wait. But then, you got injured, which meant you already had so much on your plate, and you seemed so down that I didn’t think I could possibly bring myself to add even more to it, so…”

“So you’ve been carrying this around for the last couple weeks all alone?” Mason finished for you. You shrugged in response. He could only hold you a little bit tighter, heart clenching in his chest at the thought of you being so weighed down by these emotions without him even knowing.

Mason couldn’t help but feel like kicking himself over the way he had been wallowing for the last week or two since his injury. He had been so caught up in himself that he hadn’t even noticed how you were feeling, and it made him appreciate everything you had done for him just that much more. Despite facing your own disappointment, you had put all your energy into cheering him up and making him feel better.

Gone was the feeling of self-pity over his recently poor luck with injuries at the United, and taking its place was the warm feeling of gratitude—for you and the way that you loved him so deeply, so sacrificially.

He pressed a few kisses onto your forehead, the gears in his mind turning as he thought of ways to make you feel better—one in particular stood out as the obvious choice among the rest.

“Tomorrow morning, I’ll help you pack a bag so you can stay at mine for a few days,” Mason stated matter-of-factly. “My family will all be arriving in the evening and they’ll be so happy to see you—Mum and Jazz especially, they were so disappointed when I told them you wouldn’t be spending Christmas morning with us.”

“Mason, I couldn’t,” you retorted, but Mason had expected this resistance from you. “I sprung everything on you so last-minute last year, I can’t—“

“You didn’t spring anything on me last year,” Mason shushed you softly. “I invited you. And better yet this year, you already know just how stubborn I am, so you know this conversation isn’t ending in any way other than you agreeing to go home with me tomorrow.”

Mason’s soft smile was infectious, the sides of your mouth curling upward as he awaited your response.

“You are quite stubborn…” you giggled quietly.

“So is that a yes?”

A beat more of silence passed before you replied with a soft “okay,” and Mason burried his face in your neck, squeezing you tightly in excitement and you couldn’t help but giggle at him, your mood instantly lifted. The hurt and disappointment was still there, but it was significantly dimmed by the knowledge that you would get to be a part of the Mount Christmas for the second year in a row.

Mason finally pulled back after scattering several sloppy kisses across the base of your neck, his eyes sparkling as he propped himself up on an elbow and hovered his face over yours. His eyes darted around your face, a look of unmistakable excitement on his features as he took you in.

“You have no idea how excited I am to spend Christmas with you again,” he whispered, his nose brushing yours.

You cradled his jaw with your hand, your eyes going misty as you thought about how lucky you were to have him in your life, through all of the ups and downs.

“Thank you, Mason.” Your voice was so quiet, if he hadn’t been right up next to you, he might have missed it.

His only reply was to press his mouth to yours, trying to pour all of his love into a single kiss. You pulled him closer by the back of his neck, pressing your body as close to his as you could manage, feel safe in the warmth of him.

After a moment, he pulled away, both of you blushing and breathless—nearly a year together, and every kiss still felt as thrilling as your first.

“C’mon, let’s get some sleep,” he said, pressing one last quick peck to your lips. “We’ve got a busy day tomorrow.”

You nodded, smiling at the thought of the holiday celebrations you had in store; no longer dreading the time spent alone, but excited to get to see all of Mason’s family again.

The two of you settled underneath the duvet, holding each other close. And with the promise of a family-filled few days of Christmas joy, you both got the best night of sleep you’d had in weeks.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The next day passed in an absolute whirlwind of events. The two of you had a bit of a lie in, sleepily discussing your plans for the next few days until long after the sun had risen. Lying in Mason’s arms, tucked warmly under the covers, you felt remarkably more settled than you had the day before. As you lay there with your eyes closed, listening as Mason softly explained that his family would be arriving later that afternoon, you basked in the feeling of his warm skin against yours—your legs tangled together, you chest pressed up against his, and his fingertips trailing lightly over your back.

Before it got too late, the two of you decided it was time to get up, sharing a quick shower together before Mason helped you pack a bag for the next days and the two of you were off to his house, with a brief stop at the store to pick up a couple last-minute necessities.

Late in the afternoon, Mason’s family arrived, and the Christmas Eve celebrations were in full swing. The house was full of life (and noise) as Summer and Mila ran around and Mason’s parents and siblings got their things settled into the guest rooms. A magical trip to Lapland’s made for the perfect evening and left the girls exhausted, so it was fairly easy to put them down once you had all made it home.

Once everyone was in bed, you and Mason got to work setting out all of the presents that had been carefully hidden in Mason’s large closet. Mason watched with admiration as you carefully arranged the gifts and filled everyone’s stockings with the little bits and treats you had picked up over the last few weeks. The care with which you sorted everything left him feeling warm inside, thinking once again how thankful he was to have you with him on Christmas Eve.

And once Mason had finished the glass of milk and taken a large bite out of the cookie the girls had left out for Santa, you and Mason headed up to bed for the night, buzzing with excitement over the next days festivities.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

It felt like your eyes had only just slipped closed when you were awoken abruptly by the sound of the bedroom door being flung open and banging into the wall.

“Uncle Masey! Uncle Masey!” a tiny voice shouted, sprinting over to the bed as fast as her little legs would carry her.

As you rolled onto your back, you spotted Summer scrambling up onto the mattress, crashing onto Mason’s chest as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

“Uncle Masey, wake up!” Summer shouted again, exasperated. She took hold of one of his arms and shook as hard as she could manage.

“What is it, sweetie?” you feigned confusion, as you tried to get Summer’s attention, giving Mason an extra moment to wake up.

“It’s Santa…” she whispered, eyes wide. “He came. Here.”

“What?” you dropped your mouth open, mimicking her look of surprise. “You’re kidding.”

“He really did! He really did! Come and see!” Summer wriggled off of Mason’s chest, leaping to the carpeted floor and padding out of the room, leaving the door wide open as she went.

You rolled onto your side to face Mason, giggling at his furrowed brow and squinty eyes, clearly wishing he could just sleep for a couple more hours.

“You’ve got to get up,” you beamed at him, splaying a hand across his chest as you leaned forward to kiss the corner of his mouth. “Didn’t you hear? Santa’s been.”

Mason’s heart swelled with affection for seemingly the hundredth time in the last few days as you bent forward to press a proper kiss to his lips. For a moment, he got lost in the feel of you, hoping the two of you could spend just a few minutes more together in bed. However you, painfully aware of the open door behind you, pulled back and dropped one last kiss to his forehead. Slipping quietly out of bed, you popped to the bathroom to brush your teeth before you and Mason went downstairs to join the rest of his family.

The silver lining of Mason’s recent injury was that he didn’t have to train on Christmas morning. While most of his United teammates would be reporting for one last session before the Boxing Day matches, he was settling down on the couch next to you, surrounded by his family as Tony began handing out the stockings to everyone.

Much to your surprise, yours was no longer hanging on the mantel empty, as you had left it the night before. Instead, as you took it from Tony, you pulled out a variety of face masks, bath salts, and pleasantly scented soaps. You looked over at Mason, whose face held a satisfied smirk—he must have snuck back down last night after you had gone up and filled your stocking without you knowing.

You whispered a soft “thank you,” tucking your face into his neck as he squeezed you into his side. It meant more to you than he’d ever know that he always went out of his way to make sure you were looked after—even in small ways, like making sure to fill your Christmas stocking.

The morning continued, and Summer had declared that she should be the one handing out gifts this year. So, with a Santa hat atop her head, she ran back and forth between the tree and everyone else, dropping the presents in everyone’s laps before returning to the tree to grab another.

She approached you with a small box in her hands, mumbling a soft, “here you go, Auntie Y/N,” before spinning on her heel and returning to the tree.

You froze in shock for a moment— it was the very first time Summer had ever called you that. You cared deeply for the little girl and her sister, and her clear acceptance of you as a part of the family meant a great deal to you. Mason, sitting with one arm behind you on the couch and on resting on your leg, squeezed your thigh as he saw your eyes go misty at Summer’s words.

You sniffled, trying not to cause a scene by getting too emotional as you carefully tore the wrapping paper off of the small box. Inside, you found a gold necklace with a round pendant engraved with your birth flower and Mason’s intertwined. One the back, the date that the two of you had met was engraved—above it, the words Forever and Always.

“Oh, Mase. You shouldn’t have,” you exclaimed, tucking your head into his neck once again. You could feel his chest shake with laughter as he wrapped his arms around your shoulders, holding you close.

“It’s perfect, Mason. I love it. Thank you.” You had pulled back to look at him, and you watched as a warm blush spread across his cheeks.

You spent the rest of the morning with your head on Mason’s shoulder, watching with enthusiasm as everyone opened their presents. You received several other thoughtful presents from Mason and the rest of his family—a tote bag you had mentioned wanting to get from Jazz and her husband, a wax warmer and a few different sweet-smelling wax melts from Tony and Debby, among others.

It really was the perfect morning, spent curled up in Mason’s side, and you felt so full of love for your boy and the family that had made him who he was today.

Eventually, all of the presents had been opened, and Summer and Mila sat on the floor with their new toys spread across the room. Before long, everyone started to make their way into the dining room to eat the breakfast that Debbie had apparently been up cooking before anyone else was even awake.

It was a feast beyond comparison, the table covered in cinnamon rolls, bacon, fried eggs—everything a hearty breakfast could possibly need. And as everyone tucked in, you were sure to tell Debbie how good everything tasted.

Once everyone had finished, you and Mason cleared the table and loaded everything into the dishwasher, deciding to deal with the rest later that afternoon. Lewis was working on setting up their traditional Christmas Day movie, having decided on “It’s a Wonderful Life” over breakfast.

With everything sorted and the leftovers in the fridge, you turned to go join the rest of Mason’s family in the living room when you felt Mason’s hand on your wrist, spinning you around and pulling you into his chest.

Mason’s eyes sparkled as he looked down at you.

“Huh, would you look at that…” Mason spoke with an air of mischief. “Mistletoe.”

For a moment you were struck by confusion, seeing as the two of you were standing in the middle of his kitchen with no real place to hang mistletoe. But your confusion was short-lived as you looked up to see Mason’s hand dangling a sprig of mistletoe above your heads.

A grin broke out on your face as you quirked an eyebrow at him, trying to shoot him an unimpressed look, despite the butterflies that were swarming in your tummy.

“We wouldn’t want to break tradition now, would we?” Mason tried again. “It’s probably bad luck… or something like that…”

By now the two of you were grinning like fools at each other, and you couldn’t believe your luck at having Mason in your life. You slipped a hand onto the back of his head, tangling your fingers into his hair as you brought his face down to yours.

Mason pressed his lips to yours in a delicious kiss as your eyes slipped closed. Mason dipped his tongue cheekily against the seam of your lips, and you pulled back slowly before things could get too heated in the middle of his kitchen.

“I’m so in love with you,” you breathed, nudging his nose with yours.

Mason beamed, eyes sparkling as he looked down at you. “I’m so in love with you,” he repeated your words. “And even though it isn’t how you planned your Christmas to go, I’m glad you’re here today.”

“Thank you, Mason,” you breathed. You must had said it a thousand times over the last couple of days. “For this, for everything. I’m so grateful for you. I love the way you love me.”

Mason pressed his lips to your forehead, holding your body close to his. “You don’t have to thank me, angel. I love getting to love you. It’s as easy as breathing for me.”

Your tummy did a somersault at his words, and you couldn’t help but press one more, quick kiss to his lips.

“You ready to go watch this movie?” Mason asked, grabbing your hand and intertwining your fingers with his. “You’re not allowed to fall asleep this year.”

You couldn’t stop the giggle that fell from your lips as he pulled you toward the living room, as you spoke. “Now for that, I can’t make any promises.”

tag list: @hischierswhore @thoseboysinblue @lovelynikol7 @swimmingismywholelife @masonsrem @brasiliangp @neverinadream @lizzypotter14 @notsoattractivearenti @chilwellsancho @sid-vii @captainpulisic

[byunbaekby]

title — a chaotic christmas pairing — doyoung x male reader genres — angst, fluff, soulmate au, christmas! warnings — language word count — 3.5k summary — you’ve finally come to terms with the fact that you have a crush on your friend, doyoung. but something throws a wrench in your plans, and all of a sudden nothing is going right anymore. additional — this is a very late and very belated fic release gift for my favorite doyoung simp @puppywritings​​. it’s me! i’m your secret santa and i come bearing gifts of soulmate!doyoung. when i saw that i had gotten you, i was so excited to write for you and our favorite boy! i’m sorry that i released this so late, but it’s here now. you requested a mix of angst and fluff, plus chaos and “everything would be solved if they just talked to each other.” hope you like it! may 2021 bring blessings and more doyoung content for you, love. 

“So, you like Doyoung.”

Ten’s bold statement causes you to choke, spitting out the hot cocoa you’re currently consuming. Heat covers your throat, but your coughing interrupts the sweetness of the chocolate. In your fit of coughs, Ten doesn’t even laugh.

When you finally come to, you sputter. “What—What makes you say that?” Now, your friend laughs, but it’s a dry chuckle that leaves his lips as if he’s laughing at you. “I don’t—” You cough again. “—like Doyoung. I mean, he’s nice, and tall, and funny—especially when he’s making fun of you, but, no! Well, I like him as a friend, I mean.” 

The look on your friend’s face is not at all convinced. “Sure…” 

You lean forward. Clearly your act is done and the curtains are closed. Now, your voice suddenly dips lower into a whisper, as if anyone in the mall food court would be listening to you. “How did you know?” 

Ten scoffs. “Sweetheart, everyone knows. Everyone except you and Doyoung, apparently.” A groan leaves your lips as you sit back in the seat, placing your cup of hot cocoa onto the table with a disgruntled expression. “Why don’t you tell him?” 

“We’re not soulmates, and everyone deserves to be with their soulmate,” you answer, eyes sad as you play with your cup mindlessly. Ten shoots you a pointed look before saying, “Not everyone has to be with their soulmate, Y/N. You know that.”

It’s true. Everyone is born with a soulmate, whom they must find because they share a tattoo somewhere on their body. Though the world loves to push soulmates together, it’s become commonplace for people not to pursue their relationships with the ones the universe had deemed them perfect for. Sometimes those relationships don’t work out, or people are unhappy with who they have. In any case, it’s fairly common for people to choose their own relationships. But, that’s not the case with your friend group. Though it had been just you, Doyoung, Ten, and Kun since the beginning of university, the group had been expanded when the latter two introduced their soulmates into the friend group.

“Easy for you to say, you have Johnny,” you scoff, crossing your arms across your chest. “And Kun has Seunghee. You guys are the perfect couples, and I don’t want to mess up what Doyoung and I have because we tried to date but weren’t soulmates.” Your voice is sullen as you shake your head, as though the action could dispel any lingering thoughts and romantic feelings you had for your friend Doyoung. 

“Listen,” says Ten, voice suddenly serious. “He likes you too.”

“Don’t give me false hope.” 

“I’m not!”

The look you give him is enough to make him do a double take. “Did you ask him, or hear it directly from him?”

“... No.”

His answer brings about a roll of your eyes. “Then you don’t know that he likes me back.” 

“It’s obvious! Just like how your feelings are obvious,” he exclaims, downing the rest of his coffee down his throat (along with a shake of your head). When you ask why he cares so much, he sighs. “Because it’s so goddamn frustrating! You guys have known each other for years now, and you’ve been tiptoeing around each other for so long, it’s so annoying.” His hand comes out to rub his forehead, as if your mutual (?) pining with Doyoung could bring about physical pain. 

It’s true that you’ve hidden your feelings for Doyoung for a while now… When the four of you met at your university’s freshman orientation, you and Doyoung had instantly clicked. Of course, you were all close but it seemed that you and Doyoung always had an especially close bond. You do like him; he’s intelligent and well-spoken (and perhaps a little blunt), but his gummy smile makes your heart melt every time. You just hadn’t realized that it had been so deathly obvious to your other friends. Hopefully… Doyoung hadn’t caught on either. 

Biting down on your lip, you look up from where you had been staring at the ground in thought and back to Ten across the table. “You really think he likes me?”

“I’m about 89.45% sure. I should talk to him about it.” 

“No!” You suddenly exclaim, not realizing how loud your voice rose in the public food court, attracting a few eyes from nearby shoppers. “Wait—maybe… maybe you should. You can talk to him and then tell me what he says. But don’t make it obvious! Don’t tell him we talked about him.” 

Ten rolls his eyes at your dramatic worry. “I’m not completely conspicuous like you are.” Then he stands, tossing his empty Starbucks paper cup into the nearby trash can. “Now hurry up, I have to get Johnny’s gift before they run out of maid’s outfits.”

Your hand meets your forehead in a facepalm. 

-

It seems like nowadays Ten’s mission is to annoy Doyoung to the max. 

“Is Johnny busy or something?” asks Doyoung through gritted teeth as Ten spins around in his desk chair. The former had been trying to study when the Thai man paid him a visit at his apartment to disturb his peace. Ten simply continues to spin in perpetual circles on Doyoung’s chair, seemingly not a care in the world. 

“No,” replies Ten. “I just wanted to hang out with you, bro.”

Doyoung grimaces at his friend. “Please don’t call me that.”

“I could call you mom like I call Kun.” 

“No thanks,” responds the dark haired male with a quiet chuckle as he grabs a packet of ramen from the pack atop his fridge. As Doyoung begins to pour some water into the pot on the stove, Ten suddenly stops spinning and he’s seemingly not dizzy at all, seeing as he walks forward to lean on the kitchen counter. 

“So, how are you, buddy?” He suddenly asks, trying to remain casual but failing poorly. Ten’s never been the type for small talk. 

Doyoung knows this, so he cocks an eyebrow over his steaming pot of ramen. “I’m doing just fine, buddy.” Ten nods in understanding, thoughtfully rubbing his chin. At this point, Doyoung has given him a clearly confused expression. “Okay, what do you want? You only show up unannounced to steal my food or complain, and you’re doing neither.” 

The man in question fakes an overly dramatic gasp, hand on his chest. “How could you accuse me of something like that? I just want to catch up with my friend.” 

Pouring his ramen into a bowl Doyoung rolls his eyes. “Are you here to gossip then?” 

“Ask me how I am first.”

A dry laugh leaves Doyoung’s lips before he capitulates. “Fine. How are you?”

“I’m doing great, thank you for asking. You know why? Because I found out some spicy information.” 

“Do share,” drawls Doyoung as he blows his ramen, though he seems not at all interested. Oh, he’ll be interested after this, thinks Ten mischievously. 

“I found out that Y/N has a crush on someone.” 

A sputter is heard from Doyoung’s end as he chokes on the few ramen pieces he had been slurping during his friend’s reveal. Wow, thinks Ten. The two of you are more alike than you think. After he clears his throat, he speaks, “Y/N has a crush on someone.” Ten nods proudly. Doyoung blinks, running a hand through his dark locks. “Okay, um… that’s good for him. Why are you telling me this though?”

The man in question shrugs, a mischievous grin on his lips. This is exactly how he wanted it to go. “Just thought I’d let you know. So you can prepare for having another person join the group.”

“Oh, well… I guess that leaves me as the only single person in the group, then,” says Doyoung, voice softened as he looks down at his noodles. 

“Yep,” responds Ten with a tone much too cheerful for his friend’s previous tone, popping the ‘p.’ If he hadn’t been so occupied with staring thoughtfully into his food Doyoung would have noticed. Ten’s plan is working just as desired. 

“Oh,” Doyoung suddenly speaks up. “I forgot to tell you. I found my soulmate.” 

Oh, shit. 

Ten blinks. “W-What? You met your soulmate?”

Now Doyoung rubs his nape, looking a bit sheepish. “I did…” With the slight smile that Doyoung wears on his lips, Ten can see that the man must be enamored by his new soulmate. When had he met them? How had he found out? Did he see their tattoo? Ten is seeing his plan crumbling right before his eyes. 

Of all their friends, Doyoung was the most hopeless romantic. He romanticized the idea of finding his soulmate, someone who held half of his soul. He would surely much rather pursue his soulmate, but Ten hadn’t taken that into consideration. After all, he hadn’t expected Doyoung to find his soulmate right as he planned to get his two best friends together!

“Well, that’s… good, isn’t it?” 

Still looking down, staring deeply into his bowl of noodles, Doyoung nods. “Yeah, I guess it is.” 

Oh god, Y/N will be devastated to find out, and it’ll be all his fault. 

-

The look on your face when he tells you is one he’d like to forget. You’ve liked Doyoung for so long, even if you had only come to terms with it a while ago. Ten knows this, and so he feels even worse for being the one to give you hope. 

“Y/N, I’m s—”

“Don’t apologize,” you cut him off, wearing a cheery smile on your lips. Even from a mile away, Ten would be able to tell how fake it is. “This is good, right? I told you, he’s supposed to find his soulmate. That’s how the universe works.” 

Today instead of the mall, you’re both sitting on the couch in Ten’s apartment and now you hug the couch pillow close to your chest. You look sad, and Ten almost feels pain from how defeated you look. “I’m sorry, because I gave you hope and you told me not to.” 

“It’s okay,” you say, suddenly standing from your spot on the couch. Next, you give a dry laugh, but it comes out strained. “Since when did you ever listen to what I said, anyways?” 

“Y/N, it’s okay to be upset.”

“I’m not,” you deny, beginning to walk out of the living room. “But I have to go get some more Christmas gifts before the mall closes. I’ll see you later, okay?”

“Y/N,” he calls once more. There’s no stopping you, he knows, so he follows you instead. “It’s snowing outside. Let’s go together, at least.”

“No,” you say, giving him a small smile as you slip your shoes on. “You’re one of the people I have to get gifts for. I’ll just take a taxi or something. Bye, Ten. Thanks for… trying, I guess.” And then you leave, and he swears that as you disappear from his home and out onto the snowy cold street, he sees the ghost of pain on your face. 

-

It’s a week of avoiding Doyoung and practically everyone when he finally calls you. Seeing his name light up on your phone makes you bite down on your lip in fear. You don’t know what it is that’s made you ignore him and the rest of your friends for a week, but… you needed time apart. 

“Hello?” You ask, trying to keep your voice natural.

“Y/N,” says Doyoung on the line, and you have to physically stop yourself from sighing into his tone. His voice is dark and deep as usual, you’ve missed hearing it. “Why have you been avoiding me?” 

He’s always been straight-forward, and you don’t even have time to be surprised that he’s caught you. But, you can’t tell him the truth. “I haven’t been avoiding you,” you lie. “I’ve just been… busy. Christmas shopping and stuff. Plus, it’s really cold outside, I don’t really like going outside.” 

There's silence, then Doyoung sighs. “Is everything alright?” 

No, not really. “Yeah,” you tell him. “Everything’s fine, I promise.” 

“Is it about that person? Ten mentioned that you liked someone, and were considering telling them.” It’s you, you dimwit. You want to tell him that, but you can’t. It’ll only ruin everything he’s supposed to have with his soulmate. “You know, you can always come talk to me about it. I’m not experienced in dating, but I’ll give you all the advice I have.” His words are accompanied by a small laugh.

You can’t help but smile. That’s why you’ve always liked him so much. Despite being blunt and sometimes brutally honest, he is always there for you. “Thanks, Doyoung,” you respond gratefully. “I’ll be in touch, I promise.” 

“Okay, good. I miss having you around, anyways. You left me to fifth wheel the couples,” he says, referring to your friends and their significant others. 

You laugh, and it’s a happy sound albeit dampened by the reminder that you can’t like him anymore the way you do right now. “Sorry about that. I’ll be around soon.” 

“Okay. Talk to you later?”

“Yeah.” 

Then he hangs up, and when he does, he’s left staring at Kun’s face from across the table. “I don’t know what to do,” he admits to his friend.

-

“What the hell did you do, Ten?” Kun says as he bursts into Ten’s apartment, having just finished meeting Doyoung at the coffee shop. The man in question is sitting on his couch watching a movie when he looks up at the sudden appearance of his friend. “How can you be sitting on the couch when your friends’ friendships are falling apart?”

Ten’s eyes widen. “You mean Doyoung and Y/N?” The Thai man suddenly jumps up to his feet, knocking over his bowl of popcorn. “I don’t know what I did! I was just trying to get them together and then everything went to shit!” 

He runs his hands through his hair, making it run crazy. Even without the appearance of Kun to scold him, he’s clearly been torn up by the situation as well. 

“Just… tell me what you did,” says Kun calmly, for he had always been the calm and level-headed mediator.

“Okay.” Ten takes a deep breath, recalling all of the events of the past few weeks. “Y/N told me that he liked Doyoung.” At Kun’s pointed look he retracts his words. “Okay, I tricked him into confessing it to me, but that’s beside the point! Then, he asked me to talk to Doyoung about it and find out if Doyoung liked him too. But then Doyoung told me that he found his soulmate! And when I told Y/N he got really sad and upset about it, and now he’s been ignoring me for a week!” 

“Y/N is Doyoung’s soulmate, you daft twit!” 

Ten stops in his tracks, eyes wide. “Wait—what did you just say?”

“I just met with Doyoung, and he told me that Y/N is his soulmate. He said he didn’t tell anyone because you told him that Y/N likes someone else, when we all know that Y/N has been heart-eyes for Doyoung since the beginning of time!” Kun exclaims at him, rubbing the space between his eyes where a headache has formed when he finishes. 

Ten simply stands there in the mess of popcorn and couch pillows, blinking with his crazed hair. “Oh god, I’ve created a shit show.” 

“Everything would be solved if they just talked to each other,” whines Kun as he collapses onto the couch. Ten follows beside him, simply staring into the space before sighing. “We have to fix this.” 

Then suddenly, as though possessed by a strange energy, Ten asks, “Why did Doyoung tell you and not me?” 

“He was asking me for advice. And obviously he wouldn’t tell you, look at the mess you made!”

-

Your fingers are freezing as you type out a text to Kun on your phone. He had asked you to meet up with him at the cafe you often frequented in the town square to catch up over hot chocolate, and despite the fact that you had been ignoring your friends for quite a while, you figured… you’ll have to face them eventually. The only problem is… he’s late. 

The snow crackles beneath your shoes as you rock back and forth on the balls of your feet outside the cafe. Kun isn’t one to be late, always favoring punctuality, so you’re perplexed. But it’s only his first time being late, so you’ll go easy on him. 

“God,” you sigh. Tapping your hands on your cheeks, where the cold has begun to steal your sensation of feeling from them, you look around again. “Where is he?” 

“Sorry to keep you waiting.”

You turn to find the owner of the voice, but it’s not Kun. A breath leaves your lips, seen in the air. “Doyoung? What are you doing here?”

“You’ve been ignoring me,” he says, straight-forward as always. Though you haven’t seen him in a short while, he still takes your breath away upon first glance. He’s dressed today in a black coat atop a black turtleneck, and you see even the bulb of his nose has become reddened from the cold. Now there’s really no avoiding the situation. “I figured you wouldn’t respond if I asked, so I had Kun set it up.” 

He’s caught you in the act. “I…” You don’t know what to say. “I’m sorry.” 

“Why?” He asks, hands tucked into his pockets. The way his eyebrows furrow into his forehead make him look even more hurt beyond understanding, and you feel horrible. 

You can’t tell him… It will ruin everything he’s supposed to have with his soulmate. You’re sure by now, that he must have already had time to spend in the presence of his soulmate, learning their ins and outs to savor for the rest of their lives together. But even against your common sense… it comes out. 

“I like you.” 

Doyoung’s lips fall open just the slightest, but you continue. “I like you, God, I like you so much. But Ten told me that you found your soulmate, and I didn’t want to ruin anything. I know that soulmates are just stupid excuses for the universe’s matchmaking, but even so, you should be with your soulmate… Doyoung, I like you so much, and knowing that I couldn’t have you just hurt even more. I know, it was selfish of me to ignore you but I just… can’t look at you and accept that.” You sigh. “It doesn’t matter anyways. I… I’m sorry.”

You begin to turn away, figuring you’ve all but ruined your friendship with your favorite person, but a force tugging on your hand causes you to stop. Doyoung has wrapped his nimble fingers around the circumference of your wrist, and he speaks firmly:

“You are my soulmate.”

You stop in your tracks. Eyes wide, you turn back to him. “What did you just say?”

The eyes that he looks at you with are warm, like a blazing crimson fire in the cold night of winter. “You’re my soulmate. And if you were hurt thinking I found my soulmate, imagine how I felt being ignored by my soulmate.”

“How do you know?” You ask. You’ve been friends with Doyoung for years; there’s no way this information of him being your soulmate has evaded you this long. “How do I know you’re not lying?” 

“Do you remember that night, a few weeks ago? When we got caught in the rain walking back from the library, and ran into my apartment? I gave you a shirt so you could change, and then I saw it.”

Your soulmate tattoo. 

“A rabbit, on the side of your torso.”

Your tattoo (which had been the source of your embarrassment for many years) had never been seen by any of your friends before. Now, it’s your time to be surprised, lips falling open. Despite the cold, you feel heat rise in your body and your heartbeat begins to quicken. 

“You’re…” You start, but find yourself speechless. He finishes for you, a sweet smile on his lips.

“Your soulmate.” He takes your hand in his. “And you’re mine.” 

“Oh my god,” you sigh, free hand coming to meet your forehead in a facepalm. “I’ve been such a shitty person the past few weeks, I’m so sorry. You’re… You’re really my soulmate.”

“Yeah, I am.” He smiles, gums showing proudly as you finally let him in.  Now, he holds up a finger. “And I’ll forgive you for ignoring me, on one condition.” 

“What is it?”

“Go into this cafe with me, let me buy you hot chocolate, and tell me everything about my soulmate.”

A laugh leaves your lips, delighted and emotional as you nod. “We’ve been friends for years, you already know everything about me.” He begins to pull you by the hand into the cafe, the ringing bell of the door sounding familiar to his laugh.

“Well, tell me again. I’d love to hear it.” 

[princeoftheroses]

Since you want asks, PLSSSE I want your Utena TH0ughts. WHAT is your favourite black rose episode? actually how do you feel about the black rose arc in GENERAL

black rose arc, black rose arc, oh black rose arc!!! by you adding how do i feel about the arc in general you are unleashed me to make a long post giving my very disorganized thoughts about this arc.

a couple of people call it a filler arc? i guess technically it is because it does not directly contribute to the main storyline and it wasn't in the manga and also the ending of the arc sort of makes it so the whole arc kind of didn't happen???

but also i think if a person labeled it as a filler arc they are kind of missing the point?? even if it doesn't contribute to the main plot (which it absolutely DOES but i'll get to that) it adds so much nuance to the characters of utena.

you get to see side characters and how they tick!! some of which like kozue and shiori become very important later as they become miki and ruka's rose brides in the akio arc! (side note : what was up with ruka he just kind of showed up and disappeared lmaooo)

also, it adds to akio! (tw warning for only the next paragraph, i'm talking about akio so you can except me talking about grooming and abuse)

not only is this where akio is introduced, but he is always so omnipresent. it was ... honestly really terrifying to see how chill he acts with utena here. of course the real grooming begins in the akio arc but you can see how he starts here. how he kind of builds himself as anthy's cool older brother that utena can trust and ask for advice for... but we the audience know that he CANNOT be trusted as even know we see him being shady af in the background. i really feel like if we skipped straight from the first arc to akio arc a lot of the creepiness of akio would not have been realized because of ... just how NORMAL he akio acts to utena. he's charming, he's smart, and he overall is somebody utena SHOULD be able to trust bc we should all be able to trust an immediate family member of a best friend , but of course the world doesn't really work that way. anyway akio tangent over because BOOOOOO akio (he honestly terrifies me so much because of how many predators like that exist and you can meet without realizing their intentions)

BACK TO BLACK ROSE ARC

one of the main reasons i feel like this isn't a filler arc, at least not in the traditional sense of the phrase, is because it builds a lot character relationships. something that i didn't like when i first watched revolutionary girl utena but now is one of my FAVORITE things is that for a while we don't really get a straight forward utena/anthy episode. because their relationship doesn't need to build in an episode, it just slowly builds over time. we just see these two causally existing and they just start to trust each other.

in the akio arc we get to see just how close utena/anthy have gotten over the series because of their late night conversations. like how if the black rose arc didn't exist akio wouldn't have been as impactful, if the black rose arc didn't exist it would feel more sudden how close utena/anthy have grown imo.

this arc adds a lot to the world as well. as long as the students stay inside of school they will not grow. dead people wander the halls thinking that they are still alive. these two facts contribute a lot to utena theorizing and analysis (mainly, the ideas that ohtori exists within a plain of frozen time literally because of anthy's magic and metaphorically because the cast is very cozy in their coffin) and i could not thank this arc for that enough. not only are these very cool ideas that may or may not have inspired elements in my own story (i can neither confirm or deny that one of my oc story is heavily inspired by utena) but they just add so many layers!

this arc also felt necessary because of the new duelists??? if we went straight from the first arc to the akio arc then it would've kinda gotten very tiring to see the student council constantly duel and lose to utena (with the exception of touga's sole victory to utena in the first arc before she duels him again and wins) but these new duelists possessed by the black rose are very interesting!

if i did have to make a compliant about this arc, though, i will say that at times the stories felt very disconnected to each other. while it was very funny for utena to not even know who keiko was when she dueled her, it would've been nice if sometimes the arc of the black rose duelist intertwined more with utena. as the arc goes on, the student council is on alert and is trying to figure out where the black rose is coming from, but they never really try to ask utena about it and utena never really tries to get involved? she just is chill until she gets the note to go to the duel arena to fight the black rose duelist. i don't really have a solution on how to fix this? maybe have the student council member that the black rose duelist takes the sword from be more involved? idk.

the villain of this arc mikage also really fascinates me??? i... really like him??? but not even as a villain ... i just really pity him. the realization he has in his duel with utena that everything he has been doing is for nothing because mamiya is already dead .. that always really hit me? the horror in his voice when he starts to recall the truth in his false memories.... for some reason, this is one of the most terrifying parts of the show for me. the realization that something you were doing, something you were doing that might've been awful but you were doing it because of somebody you care about deeply and love, it was all for nought. how much time he has wasted...

even before his duel with utena, there's this moment when after he got punched by utena he says something like "if she hadn't seen my duelist ring and challenged me to a duel, she could've killed me" or something like that, he's just so pathetic and i feel very bad for him but at the same time am too disconnected to him to truly feel empathy for him... that's some TOP TIER shit

overall, this part of the show is one of my favorites. the only part i like more is the last few episodes because it makes me very emotional.

NOW FOR THE SPECIFICS

favorite black rose duelist: honestly? wakaba. the girl deserves it this is stress relief for her. not only is this duel very emotional as i don't think we've ever seen utena refuse to duel somebody (at least not in the way that she does in this episode) but just the SHEER emotion.

i'm a real sucker for fighting the person you care about the most which is why the dark signer arc in yugioh 5ds is the best yugioh arc and this just really takes the cake in this arc. utena always shows concern for the black rose duelist because they are clearly people in pain who were not able to properly duel with their grief which let mikage manipulate them, but it's taken to a new level here.

the way that after the duel is completed, wakaba comes home to her empty dorm where saionji used to be but now isn't always gets me. she's just such a lonely girl and that's never really resolved for her. a lot of the other duelists have a optimist note to end on (kozue asking miki for a milkshake, shiori and juri saying hello to each other as they walk past, keiko being friends with nanami again, etc.) which is why the fact that wakaba is more alone now then she is ever... it is a feeling i can relate to an almost embarrassing amount.

favorite episode: COWBELL OF HAPPINESS, NANAMI TURNS INTO A COW-

ANTHY YOU GLORIOUS TROLL-

favorite episode that isn't cowbell of happiness: i'm very torn between the landscape scaped by kozue and thorns of death. shiori and kozue are both very interesting characters that i like a lot. but i'm going to go with thorns of death for now, as while i really like the landscape scaped by kozue, i think my preferred miki/kozue episode is their episode in the akio arc. meanwhile i like thorns of death way more than i liked whispers in the arc (mostly because i just do not really care that much for ruka, but azure paler than the sky was a banger and he was in that?) i just loved the feeling of seeing shiori the girl juri loves so much and juri's reaction to seeing her. the way my heart was wrenched when black rose shiori mocks juri... it really did hit different. but the hopeful ending did make me feel a lot better. i do like the way that juri out of all the student council members is the one closest to self actualization and this really sets that up even if there is still a bumpy road until then.

honorary mention: the boys of the black rose and kanae as a black rose duelist are both really great. i feel like if this wasn't the arc opener it would've had more room to stretch its legs and show how horrific it could've been. kanae is a girl i feel really bad about and similar to wakaba, i don't really think her episode was a very optimistic ending for her especially since akio probably killed her later in the show?

honestly the minute akip appeared on screen, engaged to a girl who HASN'T EVEN GRADUATED and is also emotionally manipulating her so much and having his little sister manipulate her too... throw the whole man away

tl;dr - the black rose arc is very good and i like it a lot, the ending of the arc really fucks me up, somebody give mikage & all the black rose duelists therapy, throw akio in the garbage, and this show probably exists in some sort of time loop / frozen time space as a metaphor for the whole coffin thing but you can probbaly find people smarter than me talking about that.

oh and go rewatch cowbell of happiness it's great

[headcanonthings]

Bakoda + Propsal

This is gonna be a bit long so buckle up!

This is tangentially connected to my Zukka Proposal post mostly using the same type of background to establish engagement practices

Background: the Southern Water Tribe doesn’t use betrothal necklaces after the start of the Hundred Year War; instead it becomes tradition to propose with a specially made item that can be used in everyday life ie Sokka uses a hand carved dagger/hunting knife to propose to Zuko

Hakoda and Bato have always been close and there were whispers about their relationship as there’s always been a current of will-they-won’t-they to their friendship but nothing really happens

It really falls away once Kya joins their village and it’s practically love at first sight between her and Hakoda

There’s a little jealousy on Bato’s side at first that is a mix of feeling like he’s losing his best friend and the love of his life but as he gets to know Kya and sees how happy the two are together he becomes genuinely happy and supportive of the relationship

Kya and Bato’s friendship really clicks into place where they find themselves commiserating over how they can love a guy who makes such terrible jokes

Bato is not the sit around and pine type so he does have a couple romantic relationships with others; Bato is a naturally guarded person and it can take a lot to get past his walls and many don’t want to put in the effort (a lot know about assume that he’ll never love them because of Hakoda so they barely try)

Bato’s longest romantic relationship ends up being a casual on-again-off-again relationship with another warrior who lost their true love to a fire nation raid; the two have an understanding where they recognize their not each other’s first choices but they still have their own kind of love and when they try they can be pretty happy and content together

Bato and his guy (let’s call him Yuka) are on again when Kya is killed and Hakoda falls into a deep depression; Yuka can see how it tears at Bato trying to decide where he needs to be so he sits Bato down and basically say “he needs you more than I do.”

Bato helps to lift Hakoda out of his grief and take some of the pressure off of Kanna by helping out with Sokka and Katara

Bato is pretty content to slip fully back into the right hand/best friend/Uncle Bato role and it doesn’t ever really cross his mind to ask for more

Hakoda throw a lot of his energy into taking care of the village and then taking care of his men while being active soldiers in the war so romantic relationships are literally the last thing on his mind

UNTIL Bato gets injured and he has to make the awful, gut wrenching, heart breaking decision to leave his best friend behind

As they sail away from the convent and Hakoda contemplates that he may never see Bato again it forces all the feelings he’s been unwittingly suppressing to the forefront and he promises himself that when, not id because he can’t lose him too, when he sees Bato again he’ll tell him that he’s in love with him

Surprisingly to Hakoda he actually follows through with that when Bato makes it to the rendezvous point and as they settle down from the impromptu celebration to welcome Bato back Hakoda confesses his love and Bato easily returns the confession

it might not be the best time to confess or try for something but they’re at war and a best time doesn’t really exist but they’ve been best friends forever and they both recognize that they’ve been walking a think line for literal decades and no one will really fault them with finding a little bit have happiness in the messed up world

Turning their platonic relationship into a romantic one is honestly barely noticeable to the others; maybe they sit just that little bit closer and their looks a little more lovesick but they’re careful to keep the PDA to a minimum one part because they want to keep a little separation/be professional and one part because Bato really isn’t the demonstrative type

They make it work all the way up to the Day of Black Sun and then they’re captured by the Fire Nation and it hurts so much more than the first time to be separated again

Then the twelve year old avatar and his gang of teenage friends, including Sokka and Katara, bring down the Fire Lord and basically end the war

Zuko becomes Fire Lord and like the first thing he does even before his official coronation is to release all POWS and have someone bring the Black Sun prisoners to the palace as his personal guests

As Hakoda watches this 17 year old boy get crowned the leader of his nation and declare that he will be working with the returned Avatar to bring peace it really settles in that Hakoda can actually think about his future and plan past tomorrow he realizes that everything he imagines doesn’t always include his kids (because he can already recognize that after all this it’ll be hard for them to stay at home when there’s so much they can still help with) but does always include Bato by his side)

He doesn’t propose right away as there’s a lot to take care of they both need to adjust to not being at war anymore and being back home but he does start to introduce the idea of full commitment and the possibility of marriage and they have a lot of long conversations about if and maybe when they’d be ready for it

A year or two post war Hokkaido feels they’re in a good place and while he’s seen how the tribe has started to accept some of the traditions the Northern Tribe has reintroduced he’s not a big fan of necklaces himself

He’s been raised without it, he’s been the Southern Chief for a long time, and he liked the idea of keeping their newer traditions because it’s a sign of how they adapted and survived

It takes a few months for him to figure out what to make for Bato before deciding that he would create a jar for Bato’s burn lotion/salve

Kanna helps him with creating the ceramic pot; getting it to the right shape and size and supervising as he creates the design

He very carefully etches in a design that speaks to moments in their lives; little wolf cubs to show their childhood together; a canoe & iceberg from when they went ice dodging having been apart of each other’s crew; larger boats set to resemble a fleet for their time at war; and finally their home newly built with the help of Katara and Sokka

He finishes the whole thing a few weeks before the Winter Solstice and with the Northern Tribe they have reintroduced the Glacier Spirits Festival and Hakoda wants to make this special for Bato

So after he gives his official closing night speech he drags Bato off to a private spot where they can see still see the lights and presents his gift already filled with the special fire nation recipe salve Bato likes (courtesy of Zuko) and asks Bato to Marry him

Bato doesn’t cry, he’s not the type, he laughs instead and quickly pulls out from his under his cloak a battle club

The bone has been carefully treated to shine bright white and instead of the traditional blue orb a dazzling green stone (undeniably imported from the Earth kingdom), the hilt is wrapped in leather that is dyed a light sky blue color Hakoda has always been fond of; instead of carved the design has been painted on, one side resembling the lush sun filled green forests that had been a common sight in the earth kingdom that had also continuously amazed them both the other side reflects their village as they had known it with the full moon shining bright above

“The one time I planned to make the first move and you still beat me to it”

“...Is that a yes?”

“Yes, Koda, that’s a yes!”

Hakoda definitely sheds some happy tears as he wraps his arms around his fiancé

[scalesandredroses]

A Long-Time-Coming Rant About Will-They-Won't-They TV

It probably says a lot about me that I'd rather see characters be allowed to be together in a story and show them navigating the challenges life throws at them while trying to preserve and nurture their relationship, rather than be kept apart by random plot twists constantly. I did a medium distance relationship thing for years — just close enough that we could see each other on weekends, just far enough apart that it was only weekends and it was an all-or-nothing commitment to do so — and all the artificial separation does is put you in a holding pattern. You can't progress when you aren't allowed to be together: you're stuck in a holding pattern of constantly wanting that overdramatizes the faraway state of being together, like a real couple, that prevents you from seeing and working on the issues you're inevitably going to have when you are together.

So many stories end at the point where the couple finally gets to be together, as though that was the hardest part and the greatest challenge is now over. It gives me an ever-increasing amount of respect for OG Charmed showing Piper & Leo progress through dating to marriage, having children, going through marriage counseling, and ultimately overcoming it all to stay together and be a family. Sure, there was plenty of plotty separation BS in there, too, but all that does to my mind is confirm that you don't need to keep couples from marrying or having families and lives together to throw plotty wrenches in their plans of Happily Ever After. HEA's are not givens in real life, they don't have to be givens in fiction, but you can take a chance and show some of the interpersonal challenges to staying together to keep audiences on their toes, and they don't have to be artificial challenges like marauding demons or secret government agencies. Honestly, I feel like the audience is less likely to question it if it's a real relationship issue than Random Plot Twist #47 (but by all means, do throw Random Plot Twist #47 at them to exacerbate the situation, we love some good doubling down!)

I give Lucifer a pass on this because they've done a great job of making their characters genuinely seem like they aren't ready to be in a relationship with each other every time they get close and something gets in the way — every event that drives them apart again highlights a very good reason why they aren't ready, shows them working through it, together or separately, and they're closer when they come out the other side, all without ever letting you question whether they really love each other, or, if they love each other so much, why they aren't just past all these little things already. Beauty and the Beast does an okay job with this, in that every excuse the show throws at them to question their relationship highlights an issue one has, or the other, or they both have together that they need to work through, but sometimes these insecurities do seem to come out of nowhere, or the thing that causes them to rethink things is random paranoia that had very little reason not to exist the episode before, or my personal favorite: Vincent did a thing that was Not Careful (tm) and gave himself away to someone, and now he's convinced himself that he can't have nice things after all, and is trying to convince Cat of the same. Sometimes Vincent doesn't have to convince anyone, because he is actually in trouble and physically incapable of having a single nice thing for a time. I take a lot of issue with these particular turns of events only because the show seems to contradict itself by introducing him to us as Mr. Paranoia, the legally dead man who lived outside society and without detection for ten years before he officially met Cat, who will only rendezvous with her on rooftops and in sewers, but then he will randomly decide that he can walk around a crowded street in broad daylight with his face uncovered, or that fire escapes take too long so he'll just jump down from five floors up when people are still awake and there's still traffic on the street below. I try to rationalize it away with the reasoning that he knows how to be careful, but he must at heart sometimes be an impetuous person, otherwise he wouldn't have ditched a career as a doctor to enlist in the army in a fit of anger and grief, let alone signed up for a medical experiment that he didn't question, nevermind go out and play vigilante when he should be a shut-in keeping his head down. They do try to paint a picture of pre-Beast!Vinny as a normal, mischievous, rambunctious guy, and I should give them kudos for that for rounding his character out instead of leaving him a perpetual unrealistic angst-monster with no other history or ties, but sometimes I wish more characters would question each other or call each other out for doing things that are blatantly unwise — or at least rant about each other to others when they're dumb — because it breaks immersion to question why someone suddenly goes against character so completely, even if it's something a normal human might do because the way Vincent has to live is not natural unless you're in a pandemic maybe. Lucifer may have made their titular character inconsistency-proof by writing him expressly to be flighty and spontaneous, but they still go the extra mile to have Chloe get mad at him, rant to other people about him, and try to figure him out when he's baffling, rather than just presenting him as baffling, shrugging, and letting it drive the action of the next 2-3 episodes without examining the crap out of it.

Of course all of this has nothing to do with the fact that I was completely ready for Catherine & Vincent to commit to taking a leap together and leaving their old lives behind, meeting new challenges of starting new lives head-on, seeing if their relationship actually holds up once there's nothing keeping them apart, and what they do with the fact that they left everything they had for each other whenever they hit a major bump and rethink things, rather than Plot intervening once again. Nope, nothing at all.

[one-leaf-grimoire]

"the knight who pierced the king's heart"

Chapter 6

Synopsis: The plot arrives! Lisa worries about her relationship. A mysterious intruder throws everything into chaos.

Pairing: Julius Novachrono x OC

Note: Enjoy!! I am introducing a new little "arc" here... they needed a wrench thrown in their plans. Let me know what you think!!!

A03 LINK

“Thank you all for coming!” Julius raised his glass of wine, a smile on his face as the dinner was coming to a close. Everyone was happy and fed, and Julius was happier than any of them at the moment. “It’s been too long since we’ve done something like this…”

The rest of the guests loudly agreed, all smiles as they raised their glasses as well. But a moment later, as everyone started to sip, a familiar scold came from one side of the table.

“Lisa! Don’t chug it down like that, that’s rude.”

“Oops, sorry, captain.”

Lisa giggled to herself, putting her glass down. She had never been at a meal this fancy before, and had enjoyed it immensely.

Fuegoleon let out a sigh, exchanging a glance with Sei. “Maybe I need to start teaching the others in the squad manners… and you’re far too young to be drinking that much! Don’t you remember what happened last time you were tipsy?”

“Oh, yeah I do.” Lisa couldn’t help but look at the head of the table, catching Julius’s eye for a brief moment. He smiled, then gave a subtle wink.

“Everything turned out okay…

...

…

“So, we have to keep this secret, right?”

Lisa had been the one to mention that problem as their tour of the castle came to an end.

“Yes… I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright. I get it… if someone finds out about us, I’m dead meat. But, you know-”

To Julius’s surprise, Lisa winked playfully.

“It’s kind of fun to do something against the rules… and in a way…”

Her smile softened a little, becoming more genuine. Her cheeks heated up a little.

“...It proves that you actually like me… otherwise you wouldn’t go through the trouble.”

“Oh… I suppose that’s true… But-” Julius stopped walking, reaching out and taking her hand. He grinned, pulling her close for one last, sneaky kiss.

“I’m going to prove that I care for you in many other ways too… I promise.”

Lisa nodded, closing her eyes as she enjoyed the taste of his lips for that brief moment.

…

…

That’s right… everything turned out okay.

Once everyone was gone, Julius skipped up to his room, grinning to himself like an idiot. As far as he was concerned, the hardest part was behind him; Lisa had accepted the risks and had accepted him… although, there was something still bothering him about the way she reacted.

Lisa… she always seems so confident and sure of herself. Yet, she doubted that my feelings for her were real, because she believes herself to be so far below me. His grin faltered a bit at the thought. But she’s wrong… I’m still just a man. I have feelings like everyone else. Lisa, you would be worthy no matter who I was. A man, a king, a knight… it doesn’t matter. Because, like you said, we were meant to meet each other.

Once locked away in his room, Julius gleefully pulled out his journal and flipped to a page in the middle. It was a long list, and at the top the title read “ Things to buy Lisa.”

Well, at least now I don’t have to hold back on gifts…

…

…

…

“Lisa! Those are some nice earrings you’ve got there.”

Lisa looked up, her one good hand awkwardly holding a broom as she attempted (key word: attempted) to sweep out the dust in the corner of this hallway. She had been hard at work with chores for the past two weeks, and Fuegoleon still hadn’t given her the ok to go on missions or even patrols any more. Fortunately, this gave her a lot of free time�� lot’s of time to indulge in other activities.

“Oh… thanks Captain.” Lisa smiled, panicking a little already but keeping a smile on her face. “They were- uh- a gift.”

Fuegoleon raised an eyebrow, eyeing up the jewelry. Eeeek- I knew I should have worn this around the base- Lisa thought to herself, trying not to seem on edge in front of her captain. But they’re so pretty! The earrings were gold, shaped into little clovers. Lisa was absolutely enamoured with them, the first gift Julius had brought her. Every time they saw each other since that Captain's meeting two weeks ago, Julius brought her something small as a gift, but these earrings were her favorite. Wearing them outside of a date or her room was a risk, but she just couldn’t help it.

“Gift? From who?”

Fuegoleon’s eyes suddenly widened as he started to connect dots.

“Are you... “

Before he could finish his sentence, Lisa decided to speak up and put herself out of her misery.

“-Yeah! I’m seeing someone.”

Fuegoleon’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. “OH-” He exclaimed loudly, cutting himself off. The man gulped, then lowered his voice. “When on Earth did you have time for anything like that?! Is he on the squad?”

Lisa couldn’t help but giggle a little, but was still feeling very nervous. “You know… he’s not on the squad, but I’ve had time lately to get to know other people, too! And it’s not that weird. You have Sei, after all.”

“Yeah, but Sei and I are together all the time, it was easy to have that relationship…” His brow furrowed a bit. “I don’t want you to stretch yourself too thin-”

“Don’t worry, Fuegoleon-” Lisa assured him, flashing a little smile. “It’s easy to have this relationship too…”

… I wish.

Luckily, Fuegoleon dropped the subject after that. Lisa finished up her chores and headed up to her room for a couple minutes before dinner. The sunlight was dim outside her window, her room shadowed as well. Almost glum.

What am I doing…

She reached up and started to take out her earrings, carefully removing the backing and placing the item carefully by her mirror.

I need to be more careful… I don’t really care about getting in trouble, but if Julius got in trouble because of me…

Lisa looked up at her emotionless reflection, who offered her no comfort.

… I couldn’t live with myself.

With an angry sigh, Lisa turned away and flopped down on her bed, one arm spread out beside her. Her ceiling was not the most interesting thing in her room, but she couldn’t tear her eyes away from it.

Everything has to be so complicated… and Julius…

Was it worth it?

To dance with danger so closely, where one wrong move would mean humiliation for him and doom for her?

Lisa had no doubt of what would happen if they were caught. Interclass relationships were basically taboo. It didn’t really matter when it was between two knights, since most knights were seen as equals to each other… but for someone like Lisa to taint the hand of the King himself… it was on par with sin. She would be kicked out of the knights, sent home, and never allowed to see him again. And Julius would be humiliated for ever speaking to her.

And yet… I can’t help but want to push us further… and further…

She loved how it felt to be in danger. Fighting, and her whole career as a knight, lent her much experience with danger. But before, only her life was on the line. For this particular case, something far more precious was at risk.

Him…

Getting to meet Julius was the most wonderful thing to ever happen to Lisa, she was smart enough to know that. And despite all the doubts she had in herself, there was never a moment that he wasn’t able to reassure her. To have someone so kind and understanding in her life…

I can’t lose him… I can’t-

But how on earth were they supposed to last?

There was no world in which they would be able to reveal their relationship.

So… no matter how much Lisa wanted him to stay…. One day, Julius would leave. No matter what he said, he would leave.

And she would be alone once again, with nothing but memories and a pair of earrings left behind.

Lisa couldn’t see the ceiling any more. It was warped by the water pooling in her eyes. Her arm came up to cover her face, even though she was alone, as the tears let gravity take over and streak down her cheeks.

I’m sorry…. I’m sorry I can’t be enough…

………

………

Far away, Julius was also laying in bed, staring at the ceiling. But he was smiling.

...I can’t wait to see Lisa tomorrow.

It was almost dinner time, and he was ready to go, but the king couldn’t help but get caught up in his daydream. Julius felt like a different person around Lisa, a person that he felt more comfortable being than whatever everyone here in the castle wanted him to be.

I want to be that person all the time… somehow…

Would he be able to keep being King if he changed? Or… did he already feel ready to sacrifice that part of his life to make room for Lisa?

I’m sure I’ll figure something out. I’m the King after all… I’ll use my authority to protect her when the time comes. He closed his eyes for a moment, his smile widening. Ooo, don’t get ahead of yourself, Julius… that won’t be for a while. For now, I just want to enjoy everything… and wait for her cast to finally come off…

He was jolted out of that fantasy as a familiar banging rang out from his closed door.

“JULIUS- your dinner is getting cold!!!!”

“Ach! Sorry, Marx!”

It wasn’t long before Julius walked into the dining room, relieved to see that only one place was set at the table, meaning that Augustus wasn’t joining him. “Enjoy- I have some work to do, so I’ll see you after. Eat quickly! You have work too!” Marx commanded before turning and running out of the room before Julius could even answer.

“Oh… alright.” Julius sighed before taking his seat, his hand immediately going for his glass of wine. Marx would make a better King than me. He’s always on top of everything! Maybe I should quit altogether…

He cut into his steak, still lost in his thoughts. One of the servants stepped forward to refill his wine. Julius mumbled thank you, still lost in thought.

Quit… that doesn’t sound so bad. I finally could take the time to travel the country… it’s been a long time.

Bite after bite after bite. Julius worked his way through his meal, and another glass of wine. Once again, the servant refilled it. This time, Julius didn’t just sip, he gulped until it was gone. By now, a pleasant buzz had overtaken his mind. The wine was so sweet, yet savory… with a strangely enchanting bitterness underlying it all. The servant didn’t step away this time, watching and waiting for Julius to be done. With a last happy gulp, Julius put his glass back on the table, smiling to himself. “This wine is amazing… what’s the secret ingredient?”

The servant didn’t answer for a moment, taking the moment to fill up the glass one last time. Julius didn’t complain, smiling up at the man before starting to drink again.

“...tranquilizer.”

It took Julius a moment to realize where that word came from. He paused his drinking, then slowly put the glass down. He blinked slowly, just now realizing that this buzz wasn’t the kind he usually got from alcohol. He considered himself to have a very good stomach for wine, so maybe it was strange that just 3 glasses got him feeling like this…

“...what did you say?”

“Tranquilizer.”

Julius blinked. Yes, he heard that right. Slowly, he turned in his seat, his vision warping, to look up at the face of the servant.

“You… you don’t work here…”

The man chuckled, completely unfazed as Julius struggled to stay sitting upright, his voice already slurring. The tranquilizer was quick, and he knew the end was near. “No, I don’t… don’t you recognize me, Julius?”

Julius did not, but that wasn’t his concern right now. His hand suddenly grabbed his steak knife, and in one smooth move, swung it up at the man’s neck.

But, it was no use. Julius was weakened, and his wrist was quickly grabbed and the attack halted. Panting, Julius felt sweat start to bead on his forehead and his stomach turned. What? What’s going on- why is this guy drugging me- Am I about to be kidnapped?

The man chuckled, wrenching the king’s wrist until the knife clattered to the ground. “Look at you… the great Stag, felled by just one little chemical.”

Great Stag… that’s me, right?

Everything started to fade away. Other people were in the room now, emerging from nowhere.

“I’m going to enjoy this… Captain.”

…

Captain?

Everything went dark.

The night was dark.

“We’ll survive this together… I promise.”

…

…

“Captain… Patri…”

“He was taken by the enemy.”

"We can't just leave him behind! Let's go save him!"

...

...

That was... the hardest decision I ever made...

…

…

“There’s nothing we can do for him now.”

…

…

"I'm sorry."

OH NO!!! What happened to Julius? And who are his mysterious captors? And most importantly... what will Lisa do once she finds out?

[terreisa]

Love Down the Line: Epilogue

The last thing Indie musician Emma Swan needs is a gigantic wrench thrown in the workings of her biggest tour to date weeks before its launch.  When her backing guitarist that caused the problem says she has the perfect solution Emma is skeptical but left with little choice but to accept.  Unfortunately she isn’t really prepared for said solution to be former Rock Star and leading man of Emma’s teenage fantasies, Killian Jones.  With no other options and a month of performing across the country ahead of her Emma just hopes she doesn’t come to regret letting Killian onto her stage and into her life.

Ch 1, Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4, Ch 5, Ch 6, Ch 7, Ch 8, Ch 9, Ch 10, Ch 11, Ch 12, AO3

~*CS*~

Los Angeles, Three Years Later

“You know, the last time I was here they only gave me those itty bitty bottles of water.”

Killian laughed to himself but kept his eyes trained to his phone.  He knew if he looked up the love of his life would be scowling at the unnecessarily large bottles of expensive water lined up along the counter of the green room they were waiting in.  Emma Swan was prone to many wonderful things but graciously giving up on a grudge was not one of them.

“The last time you were here you hadn’t won five Grammys in one fell swoop.  When I was doing the first interviews with Realm of Jewels we were lucky to get cups of tap water.  We thought a slice of lemon was the height of luxury.”

“Yeah, well that was what?  Three hundred years ago?” She teased, moving across the room to flop down beside him on the couch with a huff, “They should at least have a water cooler or something.  Reusable bottles are the way of the future.”

“First you complain about the water they’re providing and now you’re complaining about the one their not?  Can they do nothing to please you?”

He looked over at her with a raised brow and she gave him a smirk.

“They fired Walsh so that’s a step in the right direction.”

“Thank bloody fuck,” he growled, turning back to his phone with a scowl.

Emma had eventually told him the full extent of what had happened the day of her interview with Walsh Hoakley.  Not only had the wanker reported gossip as though it were truth, which caused the brief falling out between him and Emma that had made them both miserable, but the berk had hit on her not ten minutes after.  When she finally had told him, only a few days after they had reconciled, it had taken an hour for him to calm down and at least a week for her to convince him not to fight her battles for her.  The news of Hoakley’s firing less than a year later had been celebrated with a sparkling cider toast.

“So-” Emma peered over his shoulder and he felt some of his tension melt away, “What’s got you paying more attention to your phone than the expensive goodies they’re trying to get on our good side with?”

With a snort he tilted his phone towards her, “Just going over the contract one last time.”

“We have a fancy lawyer for that don’t we?” She asked crossing her arms as she sat back, “And Ruby wouldn’t try to scam you.  I mean, look what’s happened since she decided to become my manager instead of staying in my backing band.”

“Well, aside from those five Grammys I mentioned-”

“What?!” Emma’s brows shot up and her mouth dropped open in clearly feigned shock, “I won five Grammys?  I had no idea!”

“Hush, love, you deserved them and I’m honored to brag on your behalf,” he chided though he gave her a wink, “Although, I don’t rightly think we can give Ruby the credit for that.”

She scoffed and burrowed further into the couch, “If she hadn’t forced me to let you audition then we wouldn’t have met.  Then we wouldn’t have had our grand romance that in turn inspired In the Middlemist and I wouldn’t have won those Grammys.”

“I believe that we would have met eventually, love.  If not through our careers then we would have certainly been invited to Ruby’s wedding where I would have been immediately smitten with the blonde in the crimson bridesmaid dress,” he said lowly, pleased to see her cheeks flush.

“And I probably would have freaked out even more meeting you for the first time there than at the studio.  You know how much I like seeing you in a suit-” she said huskily, leaning up to press a soft kiss under his jaw.  Then she sat back and smiled wide, “Even then Ruby would still be the reason we met.  That’s why I dedicated it to her and not you.”

“Is that why?  I thought it was because you were still upset with me over the tiny misunderstanding over your choice in vehicle.”

He gave her a knowing look and she glared right back at him.  When he raised his brow in challenge she rolled her eyes at him.

“Fine, that was part of it,” she conceded, “But I did mention you in every acceptance speech.”

“Which was wonderful aside from the camera they kept shoving in my face to capture my every proud tear in HD,” he grumbled, remembering the repeated messages from Will that were just the GIF of him crying after Emma had said she loved him onstage holding her third award of the night.  He blew out a breath, “As I was saying: aside from all that I will admit that your career has flourished under Ruby’s care.  She has become quite the adversary of Regina, stealing her best clients away.”

“Regina’s over it now,” she dismissed with a wave of her hand, “Ever since you reintroduced her to Robin in a non-business setting and then moved to that corner office things have been great.”

Just as he was about to make a somewhat lewd comment as to exactly why both those things would put Regina in a good mood there was a knock on the door.  It was opened a moment later by the intern that had initially led them there.

“They’re ready for you, if you’d like to follow me.”

He let Emma proceed him as he stowed his phone in his pocket.  She was right, of course, Ruby wouldn’t dream of sneaking in last minute changes to the contract making her his new manager.  If anything she would have been fine with a verbal agreement and the promise of making her the godmother of whatever child he and Emma might have.  Unfortunately all of their fancy, and expensive, lawyers required things in writing and in triplicate.

The intern led them to a broadcasting studio that looked like every other one he’d ever been interviewed in.  One glaring difference, however, was the radio host who squealed when she saw them and practically skipped towards them with open arms.

“Finally, you guys!  I’ve been waiting all week for this!”

Emma laughed and accepted the hug easily, “Us too, Tink.  Killian’s had it marked in all of our calendars the second Ruby booked it.”

Tink pulled back from Emma and gave him a wide smile, “I’d heard she finally got you to make it official.  There’s no stopping her now.”

“As though there was a chance before,” he chuckled. “Lovely to see you again, TInk.”

“If you guys lived here I’d see you more,” she chided gently before stepping forward to wrap her arms around him, “Everyone’s still on for dinner tomorrow, right?”

“Of course, Will wouldn’t let us hear the end of it if we didn’t,” he scoffed, giving her a light squeeze before letting go.

“Great!  I still can’t believe he ditched Emma to be in your band,” She said with a laugh, grinning broadly at Emma’s frown.  Something over his shoulder caught her eye and she nodded before focusing back on them, “Alright, my producer’s about to throw a fit if we waste any more time.  Go ahead and get settled while I do my thing.”

As he and Emma moved to the seats awaiting them Tink bounced over to her chair and donned her headphones.  With a bit of awe and intimidation he watched Tink easily slip into performance mode, softening her accent and dialing up her enthusiasm as she introduced herself and the start of her broadcast block.  She hadn’t been a DJ for long but he could clearly see she had found her calling.  When she teased their interview she gave them an overexaggerated wink that had him stifling a laugh.

After two songs and a small promo of Enchanted’s other stations Tink gave them a thumbs up as her producer let them know that their mics were live.

“That was the latest from The Killers and I don’t know about you but I’m more than ready for their new album to be released.  I’m Tink and this is Rock Alt, home to all the alternative rock hits here on Enchanted XM.  Today is a very exciting day because in the studio with me, right this very moment, are two people that you should be very familiar with: five time Grammy winner and indie darling Emma Swan and two time Grammy winner and alt rock god Killian Jones.  Once upon a time I toured with Emma as part of her backing band and on one of those more memorable tours Killian decided to join us.  Welcome, welcome!”

“I can truthfully say we’re excited to be here,” Emma chimed in brightly, her grin wide and happy.

“Yes, thanks for having us, love,” Killian said warmly. “Though I feel it’s only right to mention that those two Grammys were won with Realm of Jewels.”

“Aw, it’s only a matter of time before they’ll be joined by plenty of others, especially with this new album-” Tink waggled her eyebrows and he had a feeling she wasn’t going to go easy on them just because she was their friend. “There’s no question that you two are more than just friendly collaborators, with a couple of writing credits on each other’s albums and a duet on Killian’s acoustic cover album of Realm of Jewels’ greatest hits.  We’ve also seen the red carpet photos and Instagram glimpses of your romance.”

He looked over at Emma and received an eye roll in return.  When they’d first truly started dating they’d kept it hidden from anyone that wasn’t close friends or family.  They had both felt that they wanted to start their relationship without the hounding from the press and scrutiny from the gossip mongers.  It wasn’t until nearly a year and a half later, when Emma had clearly been his date to American Music Awards, that they’d gone public.  Even then they had both agreed that they’d keep their personal lives as private as possible and continued to do so.  Including the fact that they’d been married for two years.

“But now you’ve released a surprise album as a duo,” Tink continued, “going by the name Charles & Leia, which also happens to be the title of the album.  It’s amazing by the way and if any of you out there haven’t listened to it yet I suggest you do so, but only after this interview is over, of course.  So, how did this come about and why Charles & Leia?”

Emma gave him a shrug and a nod and he leaned closer to his mic, “As you mentioned earlier we’ve been playing together for some time now.  After that tour I was a part of we were both starting on our next albums and would often work through arrangements or fine tune lyrics, using the other as a sounding board.  This has, as evidenced, continued through the years until one day we thought we might try our hands at creating a whole album together.”

“We didn’t want it to be an album of my songs featuring him or vice versa though,” Emma chimed in. “Then it would have just been the same thing we’d already been doing which would have been fun but kinda boring at the same time.  We wanted to challenge ourselves to create something new together from the beginning.  Luckily our label was open to the idea and let us run with it.”

“And the name?” Tink prodded.

“A bit of an inside joke, really,” he said with a chuckle, reaching over to clasp Emma’s hand in his, “Whenever we made reservations or had to give a name for whatever reason I used Charles and Emma used Leia.  I don’t even remember why-”

Emma snorted, “When he made the reservations for our first date and they asked for a name he panicked.  We’d been watching The Crown and he blurted out the name Charles.  At least he didn’t completely lose his shit and say Elizabeth.”

Emma’s eyes widened at the curse and clapped her hands over her mouth.  Tink waved her hand in dismissal.  Not a moment later the producer let them know through their headphones that cursing was fine but to keep it to a minimum if possible.

“Anyway,” Emma said evenly, though her cheeks were pink, “When it was my turn to make reservations I kept it going.  Princess Leia was my hero when I was a kid.  Still is actually.”

“As she is for us all,” Killian jumped in, “Of course we no longer use those as our aliases but when we were trying to decide how we wanted to present ourselves for this album this seemed appropriate.”

“We also figured it would give people the chance to listen to the songs without already having an idea of what they thought it should sound like because they knew it was us,” Emma explained, “I mean, it’s not like we’re trying to deceive anyone or anything but a lot of times people don’t try something out because they think they know exactly what it’s going to be.  I know I’m totally guilty of it sometimes.”

“I’ve been listening to the album non-stop since it came out last week and you’re absolutely right, if I hadn’t already known that it was you two I wouldn’t have even been able to guess.  Now, I’ve played alongside both of you and have been a fan of each of your music since both of your beginnings and I have to say, Charles & Leia is nothing like the music you’ve released before.  What would you say were the biggest influences on how you approached the creation of this album?”

Killian took a moment to consider Tink’s question.  He immediately dismissed sharing the long convoluted answer that began with innocent questions about one another’s past that led to a months long search into the mystery of Emma’s beginnings that came up empty while he nearly spiralled out of control once more over the unhealed pain of his borderline abusive and neglectful father.  They were still working through some of those issues in therapy and even with the personal nature of the songs they’d written he didn’t feel it was necessary to elaborate on what the lyrics already implied.

“I can’t speak for Emma but for me it’s a look to the past and what influence it has on the present and the future.  Take the title track for instance, my mother was Irish so I looked to the old Celtic folk songs and the instruments used, mimicking the flow of the music before playing around with more modern sounds.  The result was entirely unique but still felt familiar, like an auditory deja vu, if you will.”

Tink was nodding furiously while Emma rolled her eyes at him, “I definitely won’t be that eloquent but yeah, we both have things in our past that sometimes takes a toll on who we are today.  Our music was already pretty personal.  I mean, I’ve written songs about growing up in foster care or when I was in jail but this was something else.  Every day when we finished recording whatever song we were working on I felt like I’d been turned inside out and then wrung out but in a good way?  It makes no sense but I’ve also never been this proud of one of my albums.”

“Well you should both be damn proud!  I may be the tad bit biased but I think this may be the best album to come out this year and we’re only halfway through,” Tink effused.

“Thank you lass,” he mumbled as he scratched behind his ear at the compliment.

He caught Emma’s eye and she gave him an indulgent smile.  She was well aware that sincere praise always tended to discomfit him, as he felt he was undeserving of it, especially when it came from someone he knew well.  It was something he was working on getting better at accepting, with her help of course.

“Since the album was a surprise release there hasn’t been any confirmation of a tour yet.  Any chance we’ll be seeing you two taking this act on the road?”

“We’re doing a kind of a mini tour on the east coast and then a couple of dates out here,” Emma explained, her eyes sparkling, “We didn’t want to get too ahead of ourselves and book a bunch of dates and then not have anyone show up.”

“I doubt that will be a problem,” Tink dismissed with a bright laugh, “From what I’ve been told nearly every show is sold out.  So if any of you listeners out there want to see Emma and Killian perform songs from this brilliant new album I’d say don’t wait to buy your tickets.  I already have mine.

“Now, I know this album is only weeks old and you both have flourishing solo careers but I have to ask: can we expect even bigger things from you two in the future?”

With a smile he had no hope of quelling he gave Emma a wink, though he was reasonably sure that it was nowhere near subtle.  It didn’t matter though, as no one had a clue what it could mean since she had only shown him the positive pregnancy test earlier that morning.  Emma gave him a beaming grin of her own and he kept his eyes on her as he spoke into his mic.

“I think you can, Tink.  In fact, I’m quite certain that this is merely the happy beginning of grand things to come.”

[dontcare77ghj]

Alone

Steve x reader x Bucky x Peggy

Your relationship was unexpected. This was the type of relationship that you unfortunately had to hide from the world. They weren’t ready for your relationship and, honestly, they didn’t deserve to know about it.

You’d been friends with Peggy for years and it was her who introduced you to her friends, Steve and Bucky. You were the first to know that these three weren’t just friends and you were the first to accept this because you loved the three, as friends, and you wanted them to be happy.

It wasn’t until months later that you realised that you didn’t love them as friends. You loved them loved them. At this realization you distanced yourself from the three because you weren’t supposed to feel like that. You were supposed to be their friend. Their supportive friend.

But the three wouldn’t let you go so easily. When they noticed you were distancing yourself, they made you see them and forced you to tell them what was wrong with you.

When it was all out in the open, you were shocked to find out that your feelings were more than reciprocated. Cut to a year later the four of you were together and you couldn’t be happier. You were with people you loved, you finally got the job of your dreams and nothing seemed to be going wrong.

Then the war happened and suddenly everything was different. Peggy was gone, Bucky was quick to join the war and Stevie had changed so he could fight too. All three were gone and suddenly all you had were letters, a call here and there and if you were incredibly lucky, you saw them for what felt like a minute.

You didn’t realise how much you wanted them in your life until they were gone.

It was raining by the time you made it back to your empty home. You had been working all day and for most of the night because another girl had gotten sick and couldn’t make it. All you wanted was to get out of your dress and heels and make yourself a cup of tea.

You picked up the letters from the ground as you entered the dark place. You’d just sat down on the sofa and kicked off your heels as you opened a letter from Steve.

Y/N,

I don’t know how to start this letter and I don’t really know how to end it either. So, I’m just going to say what I need to say, Bucky is dead.

He fell from a train and I couldn’t get to him in time. I’m so sorry doll.

Me and Peg are going to be coming home in a couple of days and we’re going to stay for as long as we can.

We’ll see you soon, doll.

Love Steve and Peg.

The rain must have got to the mail, you thought as you saw some of the ink smear. It was only when the ink began to run and the letter became damper as you watched, you realized you were crying.

As you came to the realization, tears began to flow down your cheeks and violent sobs ripped their way out of your throat. Some part of you acknowledged Steve’s letter falling to the ground but you could barely hear that part over a part of your heart breaking.

You didn’t leave the sofa that night. You didn’t move from that sofa until late the next day. The first thing you did was call your boss and tell him you’d caught a nasty virus and wouldn’t be able to come in for a while.

And then cleaned yourself up. You looked like you felt, a mess. Once you cleaned yourself up, you tried to act as normal as you could. Steve and Peggy would be home soon and you needed to be strong. You wanted to be strong for them.

They came home the next day. The three of you spent the first day embracing each other and crying. Mourning the loss of your lost Bucky. The three of you didn’t leave the bedroom for the first two days, only sat together in the bed you once shared with Bucky and shared memories and stories of the brunette.

Days three through five, included the three of you finally leaving the bedroom but remaining inside the house. You were all moving through the grieving process at your own pace but it still wasn’t easy. Steve’s eyes had seemed to dim, Peggy was constantly lost in her own thoughts and you felt heavy.

They had to go back on the sixth day and you were alone once more. Alone in a home that held reminders of Bucky, alone in a home with reminders of what the war had stolen from you.

Months went by and you were still alone. Letters continued to come, a phone call once a month and you got a two day visit from the two of them but then they had to go back. When they left you went back to your routine.

You went to work. You smiled and you laughed. And you talked to people. Well, as much as you could.

There was only one person you could really talk to and that was Howard Stark. He was the only person in your lives that knew about your relationship and he was your friend. Everyone else in your life was under the impression that you were single and didn’t have any potential partners.

You had just gotten back from a lunch with some friends when you saw your surprise guest standing on your porch.

“Howard, how long have you been waiting out here?” You questioned as you embraced the man in greeting. 

“Not long.” He told you. “Probably ten minutes.”

“You should have called me and I would have been here when you arrived.” You said, opening the door. “Come on in, Howard, I’ll get you something to drink.” You invited, gesturing for him to enter.

“That’d be great, Y/N.” He said, entering your home. You took off your coat and gestured for Howard to do the same before leading him into the kitchen.

“Is tea okay for you?” You asked as he took a seat at the bar.

“Yeah, tea’s great.” He nodded and began fiddling with his fingers. “Y/N, there’s something we have to talk about.” He started.

“Hm?” You hummed, putting the kettle on the stove.

“Y/N, I hate having to be the one to do this but, Y/N, Steve and Peggy are both dead.” He told you. The coffee cup in your hand carelessly fell and hit the ground.

“Shit!” You exclaimed, stepping away from the mess. “Damn it.” You sighed, grabbing a broom and sweeping it into the pan.

“Y/N here let me do it” Howard said, standing from his seat.

“No it’s my mess.” You said, raising a hand and gesturing for him to sit back down. “What happened?”

“They’re plane crashed into the artic.” He explained, watching you closely. “They left you these.” He said, placing two letters on the counter. “They wrote them months ago as a just in case.”

“Right.” You said, grabbing the letters and holding them for a second. “Thank you, Howard.” He stayed for a while. He sat with you, drank tea and tried to get a read on your emotional state. He left hours later with a sorry and an assurance that you could call him whenever you wanted.

When he left, your body was on autopilot and it walked you into your room. The room you used to share with three other people, and then two people, and now it was just yours.

There was going to be no more waiting for them to come home. There would be no more excitement as you saw one of their letters had arrived. There would be no more late night chats. Or moments between the four of you because they were gone.

A laugh escaped your lips. A little, quiet, breathless sounding laugh. A laugh, which became a sob.

A loud, painful, sob that tore through your chest and hurt your throat as it ripped its way out of your mouth. And that sob became a scream.

A violent, loud, gut wrenching scream that made you crumble to your knees. The sting was a dull sensation as the world faded out and your grief flooded you.

You couldn’t breathe as you continued to scream and sob. You couldn’t see past the tears flooding your eyes. You couldn’t think as images of Peggy, Bucky and Steve’s smiling faces flashed to the forefront of your mind.

Now, now, you were well and truly alone.

It had been months since the deaths of Steve and Peggy, and almost a year since Bucky’s own, you hadn’t been doing well. You still went to work and did your job but you didn’t leave your home otherwise.

Until today, today when Howard had dragged you out of your home and forced you to join him in his lab. 

“Why are you trying to fix this again?” You asked as he tinkered with the serum. “You know it works. It worked on both Steve and Peggy.” You said, making him turn to you.

“Yes, it did work, and that’s the point. It worked. So, if I can modify the formula, who knows what it could do?” He explained, pouring another chemical into his beaker.

“Is there a possibility this could kill someone?” You questioned, watching him with slight trepidation. 

“I mean possibly.” He said with a shrug. “Who knows, that’s why I have to try and see what happens.”

“You’re kind of crazy. You know that right, Howard?” You laughed, making him smile at the noise.

“I haven’t heard that in a while.” He commented with his own smile.

“I haven’t been around you in a while and I haven’t really had a lot to laugh at.” You said, shrugging one shoulder. “It feels kinda good.”

“I’m glad.” He told you, patting the back of your hand shortly. “How are you doing?” 

“I finally got around to packing up most of their things.” You admitted. “I cried for most of it and then I packed the rest of it away.” You told him.

“It’s good you're trying to move on.” He said.

“I’m not doing it to move on. I’m doing it because with their things around, the place feels lonelier than without them. I’d just rather be lonely because the house is empty not because it’s full of their things.” You shrugged.

“Well, if you ever find yourself becoming bored or need something to take your mind off it all, you’re more than welcome to hang around the lab.” He said, making you smile gratefully.

“Thanks Howard.” You said and then your eyes widened. “Howard!” You exclaimed, pointing to the beaker near his hand. The beaker was bubbling and the liquid was beginning to spill out of the glass.

“Shit!” He yelled, throwing his hands away from the glass. “Quick hand me the tongs.” He said, reaching a hand out to you. You pushed the tongs into his hands and he attempted to pick the beaker up with the object.

The liquid began bubbling over the he picked it up and the beaker slid out of the tong’s grip, and spilled all over you.

“Shit! Shit! Shit!” He swore, dropping the beaker and grabbing some rags to and clean the liquid off you. “Is your skin burning? Is it melting off? Talk to me Y/N.”

“It’s tingling. Howard what was in that?” You asked, taking a rag out of his hands attempting to wipe some of the liquid off. Before he could continue the tingling turned into a light burning sensation and suddenly you weren’t sitting on your chair.

Howard let out a surprised noise as you fell. Looking up, you noticed your view of the man was obstructed by the stool.

“What the hell?” You questioned, looking down to make sure your skin hadn’t had any other reaction to the liquid when you saw it. You hadn’t fallen off the stool, you’d fallen through it. You went to touch to leg when your hand went through the metal. “Howard what’s going on?”

“I don’t know. I must have added the wrong balance of chemicals and that reaction to your skin must have caused- “

“English, Howard!” You demanded, still unable to grasp anything. “Why the hell can’t I grasp anything?”

“When I changed the formula, I changed it wrong.” He said, kneeling down next to you. “I wanted to create something that could render someone or something invisible, instead I seemed to have created something that allows you to phase through solid objects.”

“Well how do I turn it off?” You asked, watching as he moved your hand through the chair leg. Before he could answer you felt your legs beginning to slip through the floor. “Howard!” You said, pointing towards your slipping legs.

“You need to calm down. I think this is tied to your emotions. Calm down, Y/N.” He commanded. You closed your eyes as you tried to centre your breathing.

You thought of things that made you happy. Bucky’s morning voice. Steve cooking breakfast. Peggy and you dancing.

“Pull your legs out of the floor, Y/N.” Howard said and you complied. “I’m going to lift the chair off you and we’re going to see if this works.” You felt the pressure lift from your chest and you opened your eyes to see the stool gone.

Howard offered a hand to you and as you stood you waited to feel yourself slip through the floor. When you remained on solid ground you let out a sigh of relief.

“You know when you offered to let me hang around the lab for as long as I want?” You questioned, letting out a long breath.

“Yeah?” He asked, also letting out a deep breath.

“I don’t think I want to anymore. It’s a little too much for my heart.” You said, patting your chest.

“You had fun though admit it.” He stated, making you laugh.

Oh, how good it felt to laugh again. What you wouldn’t give to laugh with Steve or Bucky or Peggy again.

After that incident, Howard had run a lot of tests to see what had happened to you. You couldn’t remember all the fancy terms he used but even after all these years you remembered what he meant.

His variation on the serum had caused your cells to mutate. And stop. You hadn’t aged since 1945. It was 2013 and you looked the same as you did back then. With Howard’s help you were able to gain control over the phasing and live what could almost be called a normal life. As normal a life any 94-year-old, who looked 27-year-old and could phase through solid object, could have.

As Howard aged and you didn’t, you watched as he lived his life. He made his company successful, married a beautiful woman and had a gorgeous baby boy who was your godson. As Tony grew, you were Aunt Y/N. He knew all about what happened to you all those years ago and as he got older, he went to you for advice.

Especially after the accident. You watched as Tony spiralled and tried to help him as much as he would allow. When he finally began to change and became Iron Man, the two of you sat down and had a drink.

You talked. About a lot of things and the night ended with him convincing you to take that trip you’d always wanted. He knew you’d stuck around to keep him safe but he wanted you to focus on you for a while.

And so you did. You packed a bag, took out some money you’d saved and bought a plane ticket. You travelled all over Europe and had the most amazing time, feeling happier than you had in years.

You checked in with Tony at least once a week and he told you about his life and you told him about your travels. You’d been gone for almost two years and it was time you returned home; you’d decided.

It was the day before you were booked to go home and you were sitting in your hotel room, calling Tony as you packed.

“Tony’s phone.” A woman answered. “This is Natasha.”

“Hi Natasha. Is Tony busy?” You asked, folding a shirt and shoving it into your suitcase.

“No he’s not. Let me get him for you.” She said before yelling, “Tony! There’s someone on the phone for you.”

“Who is it?”

“The I.D. says Y/N.” She responded.

“Thanks, Nat.” He said, coming closer. “You didn’t call me last week. I almost sent a drone to make sure you weren’t dead.” He said as a greeting.

“I know, I’m sorry. I was climbing this mountain and my phone almost got eaten by a bear. Along with the rest of me.” You told him, attempting to close your suitcase.

“So a normal day for you then.” He commented, only sounding the slightest worried.

“Yeah, pretty much.” You laughed, sitting on your suitcase and then locking it. “What are you doing in two days.”

“Oh you know the usual. Might blow up a lab, break some hearts, save the world. Why?” He questioned.

“How would you feel about me visiting?” You asked, getting off your bulging suitcase. “Actually, how would you feel about me coming back permanently?”

“I want to say yes but I feel like if I sound too excited, you’ll say it’s a joke.” He responded.

“No, not a joke. I am done with Europe. I’ve done everything you can do here twice and I’m ready to come back.” You said honestly, sighing as you saw more things you needed to pack.

“Then yes. When are you flying back in?”

“I’ve got a flight booked for like six a.m. tomorrow. So I figured I get back, I sleep and we catch up the day after.” You told him.

“I can do you one better.” He said. “Cancel that flight and there will be a private jet waiting for you there.” He promised.

“Tony you don’t have to.” You protested. “I can take a commercial plane, it’s not that big a deal.” 

“I am not letting my favourite person in my family take a commercial plane. Just get to the airline at six and the jet will be there.” He said in a similar tone his father used when he wanted to get his way.

“Okay. Thank you, Tony.” You said, opening the suitcase to shove more of your belongings into it.

“Of course. Now just get there on time for me. I remember how bad you are with getting somewhere on time.” He teased.

“Hey leave me alone. I’m supposed to be 94 or something.” You said.

“And you look younger than me. I’ll see you soon, I love you.” He told you as your suitcase threw up.

“Love you too, Tony.” You replied and then hung up. Turning towards the bed you sighed. It looks like you were going to be here for a while.

The next day you made it to the airport on time, barely, and you were directed to Tony’s private plane.

“This is much nicer than a commercial plane.” You said aloud as you sat on one of the couches.

“Why thank you.” A familiar voice said as Tony walked into the cabin. “I’ve worked hard to ensure all my planes are better than any available to the public.” He cockily said.

“Tony!” You exclaimed, jumping from your seat and embracing the man tightly. “It’s so good to see you.” You sighed as he wrapped his arms around you.

“It’s good to see you too.” He said.

“Let me look at you.” You demanded, pulling back and holding him at arm’s length. “You look good, Tony. Your parents would be proud.”

“Thank you, Y/N.” He smiled. “But look at you. You’re glowing, you look happier.” He said, sitting you both down on the couch. “Is there someone new in your life I should know about?” 

“Tony, I haven’t dated anyone since the 1940’s, there’s no-one new. ” You told him as the plane took off.

“You know, you’ve never told me about this mysterious relationship.” Tony commented. “Am I ever going to find out?”

“It was a long time ago.” You mused. “It was the best part of my life and your father was the only person to know about it.”

“How come?” He questioned.

“Because it was an incredibly taboo relationship.” You told him. “Not only was I involved with a woman, but there was two other people in that relationship with us.”

“You were in a polyamorous relationship.” He whistled. “You’ve got game, Y/N.” He told you with a smirk. “What happened to them?”

“They died.” You shrugged. “Before the experiment. I never got to say goodbye.” You told him. “Enough about the past. Tell me about Pepper.”

For the first hour of the flight the two of you spoke of things in his life. Pepper, his protégé and his team, all of whom he referred to in nicknames. And then you fell asleep. You slept the rest of the flight, curled up on the couch of Tony’s plane.

“You know I’m not one for parties, Tony.” You said, watching Tony search through your closet. You’d barely been home for a day and Tony was already forcing you to come to a party he was hosting that night.

“That is a lie and you know it.” He denied, not looking back at you as he tried to find something suitable. “You were singing in nightclubs for years.”

“Okay, I’m willing to come this party of yours, but if you make me sing, I will stab this heel in your throat.” You threatened semi-seriously. 

“Relax, you’re the guest of honour. You won’t be singing tonight.” He promised, grabbing a dress off its hanger and throwing it at you. “Now get dressed we’re going to be late.” He said as you moved towards the bathroom.

“You can’t be late to your own party. Everyone knows that.” You said before shutting the bathroom door. “You’re never allowed to dress me again.” You told him, exiting the bathroom.

“You look nice. Now add these and let’s go.” He handed you a pair of heels ad you rolled your eyes.

“You might actually be trying to kill me.” You commented, putting the shoes on. “First the tight dress and now these stilts.”

“I am not trying to kill you, I promise. I am just trying to show off my awesome aunt and maybe get you a date.” He said.

You gave your godson a smile and kissed his cheek. “You’re sweet, Tony. But don’t get your hopes up about that date. I’m very out of practice.”

“You’ll pick it up in no time. You’re related to me, how could you not?” He questioned as the two of you walked downstairs. Tony drove the two of you Tower and led you into an elevator. When you made it to the designated floor everyone was already there and having a good time.

Tony quickly scanned the room and then led you over to the bar.

“Legolas, Rushman, I want you to meet Y/N.” He introduced you to a blonde man and a redheaded woman.

“Nice to meet you.” You greeted, shaking the twos hands.

“You too. I’m Natasha and this is Clint, since Tony doesn’t seem to remember our names.” Natasha said.

“I said your names, Rushman and Legolas.” Tony shrugged, grabbing a drink for you and him. “Where are the others?”

“They’re here, I don’t know where, but they’re here.” Clint told him.

“Even the oldies?” Tony questioned, raising an eyebrow.

“They’re not here yet, actually.” Natasha said. “They said they’d come but just a little bit later.”

You enjoyed Natasha and Clint’s company. They were very friendly once they got comfortable with you.

“So, Y/N, how do you know Tony?” Clint asked as you all got another drink.

“I’m his godmother.” You said, sipping your cocktail. “I’ve known him since his mother was pregnant.”

“But you look younger than him.” Natasha said, cocking her head to the side.

“Yeah. Long story short, I met his father in the 40’s and an experiment went wrong in the lab. I haven’t aged since.” You explained.

“The 40’s?” Clint asked. “So you should be in your 90’s?”

“Yeah technically.” You nodded. 

“Oh we have some people we think you should meet.” Natasha smirked.

“Who?” You asked. Before either could respond, Tony called something out.

“They’re right here.” Natasha said, sitting her empty glass down. She stood and took your hand and led you over to the elevator. “You three missed introductions.” She said once you all got close enough. “This is- “

“Y/N.” The man closest to you breathed out. You turned to look at the man who said your name and felt your blood turn to ice.

“Bucky.” You breathed. 

“Oh god.” You heard. Turning away from Bucky it was as if you had suddenly been turned to stone. Steve and Peggy stood there, alive and looking at you in shock.

Your flight or fight instincts kicked in and you phased through the floor. You phased until you made it to the lobby and then you ran for Tony’s car. You drove like a mad woman until you made it back to your apartment.

As you began packing up your belongings Tony’s name flashed across your screen.

“Y/N where did you go?” Tony asked as you grabbed a rack of clothes. 

“Home. I came home and now I’m leaving.” You told him, aggressively folding your clothes and shoving them into your bag.

“Y/N, why did you leave? What happened?” He demanded. “Why did Steve, Peggy and Bucky shoot off like bats in hell?”

“You remember that story I told you on the plane?” You questioned. “It was about them. They’re the ones who died.”

“Y/N none of them died. They were never dead. Why don’t you come back to the Tower and talk to them?”

“Because I can’t!” You exclaimed, throwing the shirt you were holding to the floor. “I’ve thought they were dead for years and then they’re at your party. I thought I was going crazy and then they spoke.” You said, sitting on the floor.

“You’re not crazy, Y/N. They’re really here.” He told you.

“And that’s the problem. They’re alive after all these years and I’m not the same person they left behind. I’m a freak. I haven’t aged in over 70 years and I can do things I couldn’t before.

I’m a freak, Tony. They’re not going to want me when they see what I’ve become.”

“Aunt Y/N, do you love them?” He asked.

“Yes. Yes, I love them.” You admitted. “I never stopped loving them.”

“And did they love you?” He quizzed.

“Yeah. Yeah they did.”

“Then what’s stopping you from talking to them and being with them again?” He questioned.

“I’m scared.” You told him. “It broke me when they died and I don���t want to feel that way again if they decide to leave because I’ve changed.”

“Do you remember when I was a kid, you used to tell me to never let fear hold me back from following my heart?”

“Yeah and do you remember when you used to tell me the head is mightier than the heart?” You retorted, finally standing up to continue packing. 

“I was wrong. And now you are because you’re letting fear stop you from following your heart. So just remember I did it with good intentions.” He said as someone knocked on the door.

“Tony what did you do?” You questioned, walking towards the door.  

“Love you, Aunt Y/N.” He said and hung up. You sighed before opening the door, fully expecting to see Tony there.

Instead you saw the people you were running from.                                                    

“That man is more like his father than he would like to admit.” You sighed, turning away from your three visitors. “I’m assuming Tony gave you my address. Well, don’t expect to get the next one because I won’t be giving it to him.” You told them as you continued to pack. 

“Doll, why are you leaving?” Bucky asked and you had to close your eyes to not cry at the voice you’d nearly forgotten.

“Because I would rather leave than have you leave again.” You said, folding another item. You heard someone walk across the room and stand behind you. You gasped lowly as you felt arms wrap around your waist. 

“We thought you were dead.” Steve murmured, pulling you into his chest.

“You thought I was dead?” You laughed, pulling out of his hold and turning to face the three of them. “You’re the ones who have been dead for 70 years. You two know how it felt when Bucky fell off that train.” You said, pointing at Steve and Peggy. “And then when the both of you died, I was destroyed.

You were all dead and I had no-one.” You told them, turning back to your bag. “Were you ever really dead or was it all just a cruel joke?”

“None of us were ever dead, darling.” Peggy said, her footsteps echoing as she approached. “Bucky was kidnapped by HYDRA until three years ago and we were in a state of suspended animation until we were found and unfrozen.”

“When we reunited, we searched for you. But we didn’t find much so we assumed you’d passed.” Bucky told you. 

“We talked on the way over and if you’ve moved on, we’ll leave you alone if that’s what you want.” Steve said. 

“Do you remember that conversation we had when I joined the three of you?” You asked without turning around. 

“You were scared, darling. Scared to ruin our friendship.” Peggy said. 

“I’m scared again.” You admitted, wiping away the tear that escaped your eye.

“What are you scared of, doll?” Steve questioned, placing a hand on your shoulder. 

“I’m scared that this is all some cosmic joke and if it’s not and you’re really here, that you’ll leave anyway." You told them. 

"We’re not leaving, baby doll." Bucky promised. "Please can you just turn around and look at us?" 

You let out a shaky breath but turned anyway. 

You began to cry as you finally went to took them in, really took them in, and you felt all three sets of arms wrap around you. 

"I missed you so much. I love you all so much." You cried, gripping onto to whatever part of them you could. 

"It's okay, darling."

"We missed you too." 

"We love you too."

It was there in that moment, while being held in their arms, that you felt yourself repairing and that last bit of loneliness disappear. 

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[garbagevanfleet]

Learn To Leave A Room (series)

PART ONE

Pairing: Jake & female!Reader Warnings: general sexiness, but nothing too risque yet Summary: Balancing relationships is hard work - God forbid someone throw a wrench into it. Notes:  This whole fic is long af because I have a lot to say about Jake Kiszka, but each chapter will be digestible in size. Bless @lantern-inthenight for beta-ing the first chapter for me. ;__;  We are all taking my descent into being a Jake Girl as best as we can. 

“I am not ashamed, the story goes. I swear I will learn to leave a room without touching every part of your face.” — Marcelo Hernandez Castillo, “How to Grow the Brightest Geranium,” published in Breakwater Review   

You are many things. You’re a good daughter, a loyal friend, and a mother to four houseplants. You are not, however, a morning person, which is why being ripped away from your warm bed at 6 am is less than ideal. You’ve never been able to say no to Lucy though (not that she’d give you any choice), which is why you’re sitting across from her in her favorite diner as the sun rises outside. 

Lucy has been your best friend since middle school, through thick and thin, and you love her to death. She can find the right words in any situation, and she always manages to look beautiful, even at this ungodly hour. 

Her curls are always soft and shiny and at first, you think she might be glowing but the closer you look, the more convinced you become that she’s wearing highlighter. You frown. You could barely manage to throw your hair up in a bun this morning, let alone think about makeup- 

“Hey, hello?” Lucy is leaning in, grinning expectantly. “Are you listening to me?” 

You shake your head apologetically. “Sorry, Lu. I’m still waking up.” 

“Want some more coffee?” she asks, but she doesn’t wait for your reply before waving the waitress over. You think most people couldn’t get away with something like that, but she’s so sweet and soft-spoken that everyone melts - even the busy waitress. Lucy kindly asks for a refill for you both so you take that moment to finish the rest of your cup. You’re not sure whether to be grateful or a bit embarrassed when the waitress takes a look at you and then decides to just leave the carafe.  

“Also, is now an okay time to tell you Josh is joining us in a couple of minutes?” Lucy asks sheepishly, cutting you off from your thoughts again. 

“I had expected nothing less,” you say, giving her an assuring smile, though it’s not entirely true. You’re not upset at all, it’s just that you can remember a time when it was just you and Lucy against the world. You used to eat lunch together every day and study every night in high school. When she met Josh, it had somehow seamlessly started to become Lucy, Josh, and you. Third Wheeling. 

Josh is impossible to dislike, you think, no matter how badly you wish you could. He’s simply too charming and handsome, despite being a bit too loud and a lot less funny than he thinks he is. 

“You can invite your guy,” Lucy suggests excitedly. You shake your head instantly, huffing a nervous laugh. 

“No way. It’s too new,” you explain, fiddling with the handle of your mug aimlessly. “It would be awkward.” 

You’re not facing the door, but you can tell the exact second that Josh steps through it, both because the little bell rings, and because Lucy’s face lights up like a Christmas tree. You lovingly shake your head and take a sip of the fresh coffee. 

“Oh, he brought Jake,” she says offhandedly. Your heart skips a beat, and despite telling yourself not to, you turn your head to look. Josh is oddly put together for this hour as well, and you silently wonder if he and Lucy are turning into the same person. You hear that can happen when you’ve been dating long enough. 

When your eyes catch on Jake behind him, you snap your head back around and groan under your breath. 

You had not been prepared to see Josh this morning. You had not even been well prepared to see Lucy this morning. You were absolutely not prepared for Jake. 

It’s not like you don't see him often enough. Lucy drags you along to the Kiszka house nearly every time you hang out, and you can’t say you really mind. Their house is always warm and cozy. It’s just that...

You shoot a glare at her, but she just laughs and shrugs her petite shoulders.

“I swear to god, I thought he was coming alone,” she assures. 

You’d never tell Lucy, but you’ve always thought Jake was the more attractive twin, even well before she had started dating Josh. He was just so effortlessly cool and collected in comparison. 

On a whim, you quickly stand and slide in next to Lucy, ignoring her questioning look. In a hushed tone, you turn your head to her and say, “If Josh sits next to you, then I have to sit with-” 

She cuts you off with a laugh and just as the boys reach your booth, she subtly reaches over and locks her fingers with yours under the table. The little squeeze she gives lets you know she understands.

“Hi, babe,” she greets, pulling her hand from yours. She leans across the table and strokes her fingers down Josh’s cheek. “Good morning.”

“Oh my god,” you whisper in slight disgust as Josh turns his face to place a kiss against Lucy’s palm, but they either don’t hear you or don’t care. You pull your cup of coffee up to your face to try and hide the unavoidable eye roll that follows PDA of that level. Over the rim of your mug, you catch Jake smirking across at you, seemingly reading your mind. He’s got his arms folded over his chest, instantly looking relaxed into the vinyl seat. 

“Jake,” you say in way of greeting, as you push the warm carafe across the table towards the boys. “Coffee?”

Josh is far too busy talking to Lucy to hear you. Well, that’s actually not quite right, you think. More like talking at Lucy, at the speed of a mile a minute. Lucy certainly doesn’t look like she’s suffering for it though - she’s got her elbows on the countertop, her chin resting in her delicate hands. She seems to be lapping it up, eyes a little dreamy. 

Jake seems to be even better at ignoring them than you are. You try not to stare at his fingers as he reaches forward and turns the unused mug in front of him right-side-up, but if your eyes linger, you can’t be blamed.  

The four of you fill the morning with small talk, consuming more coffee than you think could possibly be healthy. The diner only gets busier and the smell of warm maple syrup and bacon makes your stomach growl. 

When the sun rises completely, it shines in through the windows and warms your face pleasantly. It casts a comfortable, golden light across your table, and you don’t realize that you’re staring at the way it hits Jake’s face until he raises his eyebrows at you. 

You’ve tuned out completely again - who knows for how long this time, so you try not to look startled when Lucy takes your hand to get your attention. 

“Doesn’t that sound fun?” she prompts expectantly. You nod at her, although you’re sure she knows that you have no idea what she’s been saying. 

“A party sounds fun, right?” she reiterates sweetly. 

“Oh, yeah. Parties are always fun,” you agree. You go to take a sip of your coffee, but find that it’s gone cold. “When?”

Josh huffs a laugh at you, presumably because all of this has already been said. “Tonight. Our place.”

You smile sheepishly back at him. “Sorry, I’m really not used to existing outside of my bed at this hour.”

“You can invite your boyfriend,” Lucy suggests excitedly, causing the smile to drop right from your lips.

“Boyfriend?” Jake quips, eyebrows raised at you. You try not to look like a deer in the headlights. 

“You never mentioned that you have a boyfriend.” The tone of Josh’s voice is a little too coy for your liking. 

You can feel your face starting to warm, and you furiously try to will the blush from setting in. “It’s really recent. And it’s way too short notice to invite him for tonight.” You direct the last part at Lucy, trying to convey how much you don’t want to have to introduce your new man to your friends yet.

But Josh smells blood (or in this case, intense dread) in the water, and he’s on it like a shark. “We can move it to Friday night then.”

“Oh, no,” you quickly object. You wish you could figure out why your stomach is in such tight knots, but you’re drawing blanks. “Don’t reschedule on my account.”

No sooner are the words out of your mouth before he’s cutting in again, his lips turned up into a wicked-looking smile. “We insist. No trouble at all.” 

You know you must look like a cornered animal, because Lucy presses her shoulder against yours, and in the most comforting voice possible says, “Hey, it’ll be fun. I’ve been looking forward to getting to know him better anyway.” 

Neither of them gives you a chance to think of a reply before they continue on about the party. You think they’re talking about what kind of alcohol to get, but you’re already considering what disease you’re going to say you’ve contracted. You think there’s no way they’d let you attend a party if you had - say - leprosy. 

When you glance up, Jake is already looking at you from across the table. He’s wearing that smirk again, but this time it’s smaller, more subtle. You can’t tell if he’s just mirroring his brother’s energy, or if he can tell how badly you want to throttle Josh and he thinks it’s amusing. You hold his eyes for a beat longer than you should, but you manage to rip them away as Josh puts a twenty on the table. 

“Coffee’s on me this morning, ladies,” Josh says, but there’s not a single hit of devious energy in the smile he gives you and Lucy now. 

You scowl at him and huff annoyedly. “As long as you’re handing it out, I’m suing for emotional distress.”

You wish you could prevent it, but the way Josh tips his head back and laughs makes you crack a smile.

+++

You put it off for the next couple of days. You don’t want to think about the impending party, and you don’t want to think about your boyfriend. Picking up a couple of extra shifts at the cafe keeps it all out of your head, for the most part. You tell yourself it’s because you’re too busy - you’ve got lots of things to do. But secretly, although you would never admit it to anyone, you were hoping that if you waited until the very last second to invite him, he wouldn’t be able to come. His name is Mitch. You’ve only been seeing him for a month or so, and you had never made a conscious decision to move from “talking” to “going out” to “boyfriend”. It just kind of happened, the same way the seasons slip by without your permission.

He was just a fun guy that you met at work. He ordered a black coffee, and even though he had seemed like he was in a hurry when he walked in, he sat down at the counter and sipped on it as he talked to you. You had done next to nothing for him but pour him a cup, but when he left, there was a ten and a napkin with his number scrawled across it under his empty cup. 

He wasn’t particularly kind or handsome, but you gave him a chance - had a drink with him once and things just went from there. He never gave you any reason to stop seeing him, so you didn’t. One date had turned into two, and then three, and before you knew it, he was sending you emoji hearts and dick pics that weren’t unpleasant. 

It’s Friday morning, and you’re sitting on the edge of Lucy’s bed. Your feet are stuffed into a warm pair of slippers as they dangle just above the floor and you’ve been watching her go through her closet for at least half an hour. She keeps pulling out skirts, holding them in front of her form and assessing them in the mirror, only to decide that she doesn’t like the top she’d attempted to pair it with. 

You run your hand over her blankets, still messed up from where you’d both slept last night. You hadn’t been intending to stay over, but you had a pair of pajamas and a toothbrush there for this specific purpose. 

She turns to you, a dress on a hanger in front of her body and she looks distressed. “What do you think of this one? Is it too much for a house party?”

You shrug. “Maybe, but you always look perfect in everything, so I don’t think anyone would notice. Can we get coffee?”

She waves you off. “In a minute,” she agrees, turning around to hang the dress back onto the rack. “What are you wearing tonight?”

“Not sure,” you admit, laying back and staring up at the ceiling. You don’t see her expression, but you’re positive that her pretty face is scrunched up in a frown. 

“You haven’t thought about it? Do you want to borrow something of mine?” She doesn’t give you enough time to agree before she adds, “Maybe you should see what Mitch is wearing so you don’t clash.”

You can’t help but suck in a sharp breath as your stomach sinks, and you see her head whip around out of the corner of your eye.

“You did invite him, right?” she blurts, but her tone suggests that she already knows the answer. 

You groan at her. “I completely forgot.” It’s not actually a lie, but you don’t add that you had been trying to forget.  

“Oh my god, you should right now!” 

You nod, staring at the little glow in the dark stars on her ceiling. It’s silent for a beat before she speaks again, this time a lot quieter like she’s trying not to say the wrong thing. 

“Unless. Are things not going well?”

You sit up, shaking your head. “No, everything is fine,” you assure, forcing your voice to remain level. “I’m not like. One hundred percent invested in it, but everything is just fine. I think I’m just nervous to introduce him to everyone.”

“I get it. I’m sure everything will go smoothly though,” she assures. “We’ll go easy on him.”

You are positive that she’s not speaking for Josh, but you thank her anyway. She turns and dips her hand into the closet. You can hear her moving hangers around for a second before she pulls out the shortest dress you’ve ever seen. “Now how slutty do you want to look?”

+++

You had texted Mitch while you were in the shower, waiting for your conditioner to set in. You thought you were going to get lucky because at first, he had said he had plans, but he quickly texted that he would absolutely blow them off to party with you. You tried to tell him not to - that it was totally cool - but he insisted, and that’s why you’re sitting next to him on the Kiszka family couch. Lucy is on your other side, leg pressed against yours, and Josh is sitting on the ottoman in front of the three of you. Lucy was right; things seem to be going fine so far. It’s somewhere around 11 pm, and you’ve even felt comfortable enough to get a little loose on whatever pink shit she keeps giving you. 

Josh is leaned in, chatting easily with Mitch about...some kind of sport? You wish you could hear better, but the music is too loud. You briefly think that maybe letting Sam DJ was a mistake. You’re pretty sure that the eclectic playlist is not in the same tastes as most of the other attendees, but you completely understand how Sam ended up in charge of it. He was far too pretty to say no to.  

Lucy is significantly more drunk than you are. You can tell because she has adopted a hazy look, and her body is entirely more relaxed than usual. She leans in, speaking loud enough you can hear her. 

“You wanna dance? I’m bored,” she asks and her pout forces a laugh out of you. 

“Maybe a bit later. I need to be drunker for that, I think,” you reply, giving her shoulder a nudge with yours. Lucy frowns back at you, but it isn’t seconds later that she’s physically dragging Josh into a standing position and onto the dancefloor. He tries to object, but it’s weak and half-hearted, and you guess it’s only for the benefit of not offending Mitch. He gives your boyfriend an apologetic smile before taking Lucy by the waist and you watch with a slight pang of envy as they start to sway, hips pressed together tightly.

The song changes to something not quite as abrasive, and you give a little sigh of relief. It’s just quiet enough that you finally feel like you can have an actual conversation, so you turn to ask Mitch if he’s having a good time, but he’s not paying you any attention. He must be more intoxicated than you thought because he’s so melted into the couch that his drink is threatening to spill out of his cup. You go to reach for it, trying to avoid staining the cream-colored fabric below. When you slip it easily out of his hand without any objection, you realize why - his eyes are glued to a girl across the room. She’s beautiful, scantily clad, and dancing so low that you’re truly impressed with how strong her legs must be. 

Mitch realizes that you’ve caught him only a beat later and he flashes you a cocky smile. 

You aren’t angry - maybe closer to annoyed. You roll your eyes, but he doesn’t let you make any kind of comment. In one swift, abrupt motion he pulls you over him until you’re straddling his lap, and the shocked yelp you let out is luckily lost in the music. You are suddenly immensely grateful that you didn’t let Lucy talk you into that sinfully short dress, because if you had, your whole ass would be showing in this position.  

His attempt at doubling down is obvious, but that doesn’t stop you from sharply demanding, “What are you doing?”

You may not have been that upset before, but you are now that you’re looking at his stupid face. He laughs at you, hands on your hips and leans in to press his nose against your neck. You hear him talking to you, lips directly against your skin, but you’re so embarrassed that everything sounds like static. 

You go to push off of him, but over his shoulder, you catch Jake leaning against the door frame into the kitchen. He was chatting with a group of people, but when he looks over and sees you, his body tenses. You instantly feel your face run hot when you meet his eyes because you’re acutely aware of what it must look like you’re doing. 

You’d seen him earlier when you first arrived, but you didn’t realize how good he looked until right now. His long hair is pushed back, letting you take in his whole face at once. The chiseled features are even more sharpened by a light sheen coming off of the string of fairy lights that Lucy had been intent on hanging. 

His outfit isn’t complicated, just a dark pair of jeans and a black leather jacket, but he’s making the ensemble look exactly as it was meant to be. 

 He’s giving you a look that you can’t place, but it’s somewhere between smug and shocked. Whatever it is, it’s intense enough that it makes your breath catch in your chest.

Mitch picks that moment to press a hot kiss against your throat, sucking the skin and causing your lips to fall open. You whine as you feel his teeth scraping your skin because it stings. Any evidence of a smirk has vanished from Jake’s face; his eyes flick away like he can’t watch anymore. He shoves off the doorway and disappears into the kitchen, leaving his friends to shrug and continue their conversation without him.

The second he’s not there any longer, you push away from Mitch with admittedly too much force. You stand, but your legs are wobbly, both from the alcohol and from the odd sitting position you’d just been in. You try to head toward the kitchen, but Mitch’s hand is suddenly around your wrist.

“Where are you going?” he asks, and you almost feel bad because he looks truly confused, and you think maybe he’s too drunk to really figure out just how he’s fucked up. But the thread of guilt quickly unravels as your fingers find your neck, pressing into a tender spot that you can only guess is going to be an unwanted love bite. 

You rip your hand away from him, giving him the meanest look you can muster.

“What am I supposed to do? I don’t know anyone here,” he objects, frowning back at you with a look of shock.  

“Then get lost,” you suggest coldly. The hurt puppy look on his face tells you that you should regret being so harsh, but you just don’t. You leave him there on the couch as you start weaving your way through people. Lucy is giving you a concerned look from across the room, probably having just seen the whole display, but you offer her an assuring smile back. You hope she doesn’t worry too much, but you really can’t focus on anything other than making your way through the house. 

The kitchen is crowded with giggling girls and the overwhelmingly sweet smell of perfume and alcohol but is noticeably missing the one person you’re looking for. The people around you seem to get less and less sober the closer you get to the end of the kitchen, and you think the spread of booze and mixers across the kitchen counter might be to blame. 

The only other way out of the kitchen is through the back door, which is naturally blocked by a whole crowd of people. You try to politely signal that you’re trying to get past, but when that fails, you decide you’re not above shoving your way through. Everyone is gawking at you as you pass like you’re disrupting them, and you guess you are, but you’re too determined to care now. You wonder if Jake had to elbow his way through too, but no - you’re one hundred percent positive that they parted easily for him.

The autumn air hits your face as you open the door, and the not unpleasant smell of tobacco smoke on the wind tells you that you’re not alone. Your stomach lurches. Jake is standing a couple of feet from you, a cigarette between his lips. You’re not sure what you were expecting, but it certainly was not the humored look painting his face. It’s silent for a moment too long before you realize you’d been so intent on finding him that you hadn’t even remotely thought about what you’d say when you did. Lamely, you land on, “There you are.”

He exhales a cloud of smoke through tight lips. “Here I am,” he agrees. His eyes flick down to your neck, and your hand instantly reaches up to cover the spot you’re positive he’s looking at. 

He breathes a laugh. 

“I’m sorry.” You’re not sure exactly what you’re apologizing for but your voice sounds more pained that you’d let it if you were sober. It feels like an eternity as he takes another drag, leaving you anxious. 

“That’s my family couch. We watch movies there,” he says, but his teasing tone puts you just slightly more at ease. He cracks a smile at you and you exhale a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding. “We eat meals on that thing.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I didn’t appreciate it either,” you assure. Without allowing yourself to think twice, you reach out and pluck the cigarette from his fingers. A stunned look washes over his face as he watches you raise it to your lips. A warm feeling rises in you as you realize you’d never seen him look so earnestly shocked, and you’re the one that made it happen.

It’s fleeting though - he fixes his expression quickly and steals the cigarette back from you, giving you a faux-scolding look. “Didn’t you pay attention in health class? These are bad for you.” 

You can’t help but laugh, leaning back against the railing in front of him. You try to keep your tone light. “You saw everything then?”

“More than I was supposed to, I would imagine,” he agrees with a nod. “Where’d you dig that guy up from anyway? He seems like an asshole.” He takes one last drag and then drops the cigarette. It leaves behind a tiny char spot on the wood where he stamps it out with his boot. 

You give a quiet laugh and look away, but you can feel the intensity of his eyes on you. “He’s a nice enough guy.” You’re not positive why you still feel the need to defend him, but it makes Jake roll his eyes amusedly. 

“Please,” he starts through a smug smile. “If you really liked him, I can’t imagine you’d be out here right now. Did you just leave him in there?”

Your eyes widen, shocked by how forward he can be. Feeling rather small under his brazen judgments, the most you can muster is a nod in confirmation. 

He gives a low snigger, shaking his head. “You should get back in there before he leaves then. Since you’re so into him.” 

The wind picks up, which is good because now you have something to blame for the goosebumps rising all across your body. You’re staring at him silently, not sure what to say, and not sure about how you feel. Well, that’s a bit of a lie - you’ve never been less concerned about Mitch in your life, and you’ve never been so wracked with the need for someone’s approval.

“I’m not,” you admit quietly, leaning back against the wooden railing. 

When you look back at him, he’s wearing that smug smirk again - the one that’s almost signature to the Jake Kiszka brand. 

“I know. What are you going to do about it?” he challenges.

You shrug your bare shoulders, and it’s quiet for a beat before you try to speak again. “I blew up at him and told him to leave.” 

Jake gives you an impressed look. “Wow, good.”

You frown at him. “Why wow?” you ask, the suspicion in your tone making him laugh.

“I don’t know, you just seem too nice.”

Annoyance causes your frown to deepen, you go to say something, but he cuts you off.

“Don’t look at me like that. How long would you have let that relationship go on before you finally put it out of its misery?” Your lips purse in agitation at his patronizing tone.

Dodging his question, you scoff. “I’m not that nice. I do plenty of bad things.”

He looks all too pleased with himself, like the conversation ended up here by design.

“Like what?” His voice is lower now. Quiet. “Take a drag off of someone else’s cigarette?”

You’re close enough to him that you could lean in and kiss him with ease, but you’re fairly sure that’s what he wants you to do. If he expects it, it won’t be satisfying enough. The urge to truly impress him is stronger than you’d like to admit. 

You reach down to take his hand in yours, and he lets you.  

You aren’t normally one to misbehave - as much as you hate to admit he’s right - but he makes you want to.  

You pull his hand up to your face, and he cups your chin in his cool palm. He looks collected, but you can tell he’s waiting to see what you’re going to do next. You don’t want to disappoint him - you want to give him a good show. Before you lose your confidence, you wrap your fingers around his wrist, holding it there in front of your face. Infuriatingly slowly, you tilt your head down, parting your lips and taking his thumb into your mouth. It’s completely silent, save for the sound of the breeze and the muted music from the house, so you can hear the exact second that his breath catches in his throat. You feel electric, but you honestly can’t tell if it’s from how sexual the moment is, or how satisfying it is to see him struck silent. 

All the Kiszka boys are gorgeous, but the way his face looks as you run your tongue along his skin makes your muscles weak. You let your eyes flutter closed, so you’re not expecting it when his other hand finds your hip, holding you exactly where you are.

“Jesus,” he says on an exhale. You hum around his skin, and a moment later, you pull his hand away from your mouth. It leaves a light, smokey taste on your tongue. He looks like he can’t find a single thing to say for a few moments. You can feel him start to pull you in, but both of you jump as the door swings open. You manage to step far enough away from him to not look conspicuous just as Lucy pops her head out.

“Oh my god, I finally found you.” Her words are pretty sloppy, but you smile and nod. “What are you doing out here?”

Your heart is pounding, but you try to keep a relaxed pose.

“Just needed some air after all of that,” you reply, voice quavering, but Lucy is far too drunk to notice.

“Did you know that Mitch just left?” Her brows are tipped up in a look of utmost concern. 

You shake your head no but quickly change the subject. “It’s cold out here, Lu. You should head back inside.”

Her frown deepens, and you realize that she isn’t going away unless you go with her. 

“I’ll come inside in one second,” you assure, tone taking on a bargaining nature. “And I’ll take you up on that dance.”

She suddenly beams at you, nodding so quickly that you’re not sure how she doesn’t make herself dizzy. “I’ll make you a drink.”

You laugh and go to tell her to slow down, but she’s gone before you can utter another word. 

To your slight dismay, when you look back at Jake, he has completely collected himself. It feels like progress lost. If you didn’t notice the way his eyes linger on your lips as he pulls out another cigarette, you’d think everything was perfectly normal. There isn’t anywhere on Earth you’d rather be right now, but you acknowledge that Lucy will be back out to get you if you take too long.

You consider staying - trying to find all the ways you can convince him of your mischievous side further - but you settle instead for reaching down for his lighter, and he lets you take it from his hand. He’s staring directly into your eyes, which makes it hard for you to focus on lighting the cigarette in his mouth, especially as the flame illuminates the high points of his lovely face. When it’s ignited, he instantly takes a drag and breathes it out through his nostrils. You tuck the lighter into the front pocket of his jeans.

As you go to open the door and head inside, you catch him shaking his head with a smirk. 

The feeling in your stomach is strange and foreign as you make your way into the living room to find Lucy, but as you sway back and forth with her on the rug, you realize that it must be some form of relief. You know you should feel guilty, but you don’t, even in the slightest.

PART TWO

[blog-sliverofjade]

Hearth Fires 15: Conflicted

Pairing: Remi Denier x OFC

Summary:  Lorel Maddox just wants to live as a human, run her bakery in peace, and forget. Unfortunately, the alpha of the local leopard pack has very different ideas.

Remi Denier doesn’t know what to make of the female changeling who wants nothing to do with him or the RainFire pack. He does know that he has a driving need to protect her. Even if it’s from herself.

While they’re embroiled in a battle of wills, there’s a war brewing on the horizon. The outside threat could not only destroy everything they hold dear, but tear apart the fragile new bonds of the Trinity Accord, plunging the world into bloodshed to rival the Territorial Wars of centuries past.

Word count: 3685

Hearth Fires Masterlist

Beta read by the precious @pandabearer​

          The small, green valley was thrown into early twilight by the forested mountains that protected the Arrow settlement.  The children were playing their hearts out, as if trying to eke out that much more life before the day’s end.  Judd Lauren, inarguably a lethal blade of a man, made a mix of cubs, pups, and psy give chase before allowing them to swarm him.  Remi shook his head; he was still amazed that the assassin was capable of laughter, let alone could play with children with such care.

       “I’ve asked around and a couple of other packs around the country are experiencing the same issues, mostly in places where there was already anti-psy sentiment.  Word is they’re running militia training camps,” he said to the man who led some of the most dangerous people in the world.  “Have the psy been having similar problems?” 

      Before Aden could answer, a baby leopard bounded up to bat playfully at Remi’s boots, tail swishing back and forth.  He scooped up the cub for a tap on the nose and a quick cuddle before sending her off to rejoin the game.

       “No,” Aden answered when they were alone again, watching his wife clean up the aftermath of a sugar-fuelled feeding frenzy.  Even though Halloween was still a few weeks off, Zaira had brought candy; the cubs and pups enthusiastically introduced their psy playmates to the concept of Halloween and trick-or-treating.  Remi suspected she didn’t grasp the concept of the holiday and was just using it as an excuse to spoil the children.  Heaven knew the baby Arrows could certainly do with the occasional spoiling, and she knew that better than anyone.

      Envy sank its claws into him.  The Arrow pair weren’t mated in the changeling sense, yet they had an unbreakable bond that was obvious even to the non-telepathic races.  He yearned to know what it was like to be so intimately connected with someone who suited him on every level.  A predatory changeling alpha needed a mate by his side, someone who knew when to bend and when to show their claws, someone who would help their pack grow and thrive.  He wanted someone he could trust enough to let his guard down and just be.  No duties, not dominant, not alpha, just Remi.

      Compared to most alphas, he’d taken some time to wake up to his alpha instincts.  Once that need overrode his reservations, he’d gone about it with the laser-like focus of an apex predator. However, there were some aspects he hadn’t anticipated.  At first, some of the women tried to climb the hierarchy by climbing into his bed.  He’d shut that down right away, making it crystal clear that intimate skin privileges between packmates would in no way impact one’s position either positively or negatively.

      Ever since then, he’d been sure to never pay too much attention to any one partner when his need for intimate skin privileges grew too much.  He’d inherited too many of his father’s traits that had turned dark after his mother passed.  He would be driven to take and possess a lover entirely, demanding complete sexual submission.  Dominant changeling women weren’t exactly known for their surrendering natures, and any paramour he took would have to be dominant.  Any other personality would be crushed by him simply being who he was.  The fragile equilibrium of the new pack couldn’t handle such an imbalanced relationship.

      A submissive couldn’t fight against a dominant, especially against sexual aggression from someone in a position of power; it was against their very nature.  And he would slit his own throat before he shed the blood of any of his people, before he turned into the monster that stalked his darkest nightmares.  He’d simply come to accept that being alone was the price he had to pay in exchange for the family he’d built.

      “On top of that, we’ve had a perimeter breach in the eastern and northern sectors.”  The second occurrence had been reported when Remi’d been arguing with Lorelei; he’d had to see her safely home before going to investigate.  He’d bullied her into shifting to her other form by threatening to throw her over his shoulder and carrying her if she didn’t.  The obstinate ocelot went into the change still wearing his shirt.  His scent, already coating her in a superficial layer from wearing his tee, spread more evenly on her body when the fabric inevitably disintegrated.  That had satisfied something primal, deep below the conscious level.

      Coming of age in a brutal pack had irreparably changed him.  He managed the violence that lived in him by directing it at those who would harm his people, but those same drives darkened to a sexual hunger when it came to her.  He was rapidly becoming addicted to her.  Unfortunately, his drug of choice was touch averse, specifically his touch.  He hated the loss of control, feeling like a juvenile fresh from his first kill again.  The pack needed him to keep his head on his shoulders, not lose it sniffing after a female.

      “You’re getting harder,” Tien had said as he’d driven her home.  It wasn’t a criticism: it was concern from one packmate to another.  His touch hunger was already causing friction and there weren’t enough mated pairs at the higher end of the hierarchy to counteract the instability.  And the only person he wanted to sate that need with was dividing his attention.

      “She’s a liability.”  If they thought he wasn’t doing right by the pack, especially if he was focused on an outsider to their detriment, he’d soon be facing challenges, and that would tear them apart when they were already facing outside dangers.  

      “Not everyone’s built for combat, that doesn’t mean they have nothing to contribute.”  She misinterpreted his flat statement and defended the submissive, an arch statement reminding him that neither end of the power hierarchy was worth more or less than the other.   That was what maternals did, protective in their own way.

      He knew that better than most.  Lorelei’s strength shone whenever she was in the same room with him; annoying as it was, he respected the hell out of her for standing up to him.  What his father had forgotten, or perhaps never known, was that strength wasn’t always physical; a person’s value couldn’t be calculated in terms of how much blood they could shed.  He would never understand how his father could have treated their most physically vulnerable as unworthy of respect.  It ultimately led to his downfall.

      “That’s not what I meant, Tien,” he’d growled, hands tightening on the manual controls until the wheel groaned in protest.  “She poses a security risk.  I never should have let her so deep into our territory.”  They had changed the site of the autumn barbecue at the last minute to one more distant from where they made their homes at the heart of their land.  But with several non-predatory changelings disappearing in the area recently, his instincts were driving him to keep his people protected deep within their territory and ban anyone who wasn’t fully allied with RainFire. 

      Changelings of any stripe needed freedom; too many restrictions, even if they were for protection, stifled them.  The proper balance of safety and freedom gave cubs a firm foundation and the safety to develop their strength and personalities.  It was an alpha’s honour to ensure cubs have what they need to flourish, not crush them by keeping them tightly confined without room to grow.

      “She’s a baker, hardly a master spy.  What’s she going to do?  Steal Avery’s cheesecake recipes?” she’d scoffed.  “What she is, is scared.  I don’t think she knows how to stop protecting herself; it’s why she’s short-tempered.”

      Remi had a different interpretation on that.  He’d kept his reservations about her stability to himself, not even warning his sentinels.  That was the true risk she posed: he was already keeping secrets from the soldiers who shed their blood in defense of RainFire because he wanted to protect an outsider when all his energies should be focused on safeguarding his people, not divided between them and a woman he couldn’t have.

      When she went feral, and there was no doubt in his mind that she would if she didn’t learn to balance her two aspects, he would be the one to take her down.  It would be his responsibility because he would have failed both her and his pack, which meant he could not permit that outcome to come to pass.

      “Physical reconnaissance?”  The question wrenched Remi from his musings.

      “Seems like,” he said grimly.  They still hadn’t been able to pinpoint who was behind the incursions and it was maddening.  A stray breeze blew his hair back into his face and he shoved it back with one hand; he needed a haircut otherwise he’d soon need hair ties.

      “I could have the squad monitor for any related activity, although the possibility of finding any evidence is minute.”  A smile lit up Aden’s face as he watched his mate attempting to settle a squabble between a cub and a baby Arrow with cool logic.

      “Don’t waste manpower, but I’d appreciate any intel passed our way.”  The elite military unit protected the heart and conscience of the psy race: the empaths.  Aden would never sacrifice their greater mission for RainFire’s sake; it was an unspoken understanding between the two men.  Despite their differences, they both had an adamantine core of integrity, and both had been forged in crucibles of the cruellest kind.  “I’ll send the info on the missing changelings.”  

      A wolf couple roaming in the area had disappeared sometime over the past week; he’d only known because they’d failed to check in during the window of time they said they would be leaving as arranged when they’d asked for permission to be in his territory.  Two of the most powerful Tk’s he knew, one of them a true teleporter, had already tried to teleport to the two missing, using their faces as a lock and both had failed, which meant that they had either been disfigured or were dead.

      Normally spending time with the cubs soothed even his worst moods, yet today it sat uneasily on him that he was on a playdate instead of searching for the wolves; his overdeveloped drive to protect was punishing him.  Logically, he knew that the children needed to play with their friends before the semi-monthly gatherings would be disrupted by the holiday season.  The pups and cubs were more flexible and would be fine until the new year; it was the psy who needed the foundation of routine, and even though they weren’t his in the strictest sense, it wasn’t in him to hurt a child, no matter how obliquely.  

      Aden Kai, a scary motherfucker who could create an impregnable shield that could deflect bullets back along their trajectories, smiled, hard eyes softening as Zaira climbed the rise towards them.  A faint line between her brows was the only indication of her apparent puzzlement, and held up two identical cups.

      “Tavish and Jasper are in disagreement over who gets the blue cup.  These are both blue.  I’m not familiar with Logan’s medical history, but no visual impairments were noted at Owen’s last physical.”

      Remi’s shoulders shook with laughter as the two lethal Arrows looked to him for advice, perplexed.  If only all of his problems were simply bickering cubs.

 FROM: Zayaan Derici <email redacted>

TO: Lorel Maddox <email redacted>

October 15, 2083  2:30PM

Subject: RE: Fion and Mila Caine, RedRock

       I cannot express my gratitude for your parents saving my life from our rogue member nor can I convey the depth of sorrow I’ve carried with me all these years, yet I know that it’s merely a drop compared to your loss.

       Your parents were fine, courageous people.  If you would like to know the details of what happened, I will gladly provide them, but I didn’t want to burden you with the knowledge before you were ready.

       I’m ashamed that I didn’t look for you; I’d forgotten they had a little girl.  Please forgive me, you would have been “a baby” in my 10-year-old mind.  When I was older, I tried to find their relatives, but RedRock’s records were destroyed in a fire that night.  I was astonished when your alpha reached out to me and elated when I received your email.

       You may wish to move on and not re-visit this tragedy.  I would not fault you for that, but I hope to hear from you again.  I’ve attached a picture of my two cubs, Fiona and Mila; they are named after your parents.

       Gratefully yours,

       Devon Gutierrez

        Two days passed without incident: no ultimatums, earth-shattering maxims, moments of bloodthirsty madness, and definitely no arguments with a certain autocratic leopard.  One would think that would be restful, and yet, no matter how many times she gave herself a firm talking to, Lorel found herself restive.

      The longing she felt for him was stronger than mere lust, which was something she’d more or less dealt with on her own since puberty.  It was like her very skin ached for touch and without it, she felt untethered from the earth, like she didn’t exist without tactile contact to anchor her.  His touch had fanned her ever-present hunger to a voracious need that kept her awake at nights no matter how many times she used her battery-operated boyfriend.

      Lorel was grateful that Irena, who was across the workspace from her, didn’t appear to have the same sense of smell that cat changelings had, otherwise she’d never be able to look her in the eye again.

      “Irena, could you please pass me the passionfruit?”

      “Depends, will you get me that gorgeous cat’s number?” she asked, handing over the bowl with a mischievous grin.

      “I don’t think he’s looking,” she shook her head with a rueful smile and began to cut the purple fruit.

      “Damn.  Wouldn’t mind getting eaten by a cat, if you know what I mean.”  Looking up briefly from the sugar cookies she was cutting out, she waggled perfectly manicured eyebrows.  This week’s designs were ghosts, pumpkins, and witches’ hats.

      “Irena!”  Her knife slipped and juice squirted down her apron.

      The crow laughed gaily at Lorel’s shock, the sound filling the kitchen.  It was still early and they were preparing for the day; they didn’t have to worry about scandalizing customers yet.

      “Can I ask you a personal question?” she asked once she’d recovered from the embarrassment.  “And if you so much as breathe a word of this to anyone, I will make sure you get all the early morning shifts during the holiday season.”  She jabbed a warning finger at Irena; SweetCheeks would have to start baking at 3 am, two hours earlier than usual, to meet projected seasonal demand.

      She shuddered and nodded acquiescence, waiting for Lorel to continue. 

      “Do alphas, or wing leaders,” she added, remembering the avian-specific term Irena used, “have certain… expectations of packmates?”

      “Uh, depends on the person and the needs of the flight, or pack.”  Her dark brows drew together when she looked up briefly from the dough.

      “No, I mean single pack members.”

      “What, you mean like one of them cults where the guy in charge sleeps with all the women?  No, that is not normal.  I won’t say it’s never happened, but people can be evil.”  Hazel eyes aghast, she shook her head furiously.  “I haven’t heard anything like that about RainFire, and we’re on good terms with them.”

      Lorel had not only heard of instances of alphas becoming corrupt and taking advantage of those they were meant to care for, she’d also been forced to watch documentaries on them.  Ostensibly, it was to protect her from becoming a victim of the depraved culture of changeling packs.  While she didn’t think that authoritarianism was the default culture of packs, neither had she known exactly how abhorrent such occurrences were considered among changelings.  She could smell Irena’s scent sour at the thought despite the competing aromas coming from the ovens.

      Face warming, Lorel sketched in with broad strokes what had taken place in the woods the week before, never looking up from her work.

      “Kissing between packmates is usually more like kissing a sibling.  That sounds more like he’s looking for intimate skin privileges,” frowned Irena.

      The kiss between them had been the farthest thing from that.  It had been wild and sensual and like nothing she had ever experienced before.  When she woke from fitful dreams in the bits of sleep she did manage to get, she swore that she could still taste him on her lips.

      “And if there was a misunderstanding, like someone thought he was abusing his position as alpha?”  The words he’d used were imprinted in her brain, they’d been so full of restrained fury.  Once the hormones and adrenaline had faded, she’d nearly thrown up she’d been so disgusted with herself.  Conflict of any kind usually left her feeling deeply discomfited, or at least it did whenever her ocelot wasn’t complicating matters with its temper.  And it was always worst when she was in the wrong.

      “You did not,” winced Irena.  “In that case, I’d say it’s a damn good thing you’re not in the pack yet because his pride will not take that well.”  Eyes wide, she shook her head and blew out a breath, golden-brown cheeks puffing up.

      “He said I was ‘touch hungry.’  How was I supposed to know it wasn’t just a line?  Like when doctors used to say, ‘I diagnose you woman, the cure is medically induced orgasms’!” she threw her hands in the air in frustration, sending green bits of pulp flying, even as she pinked at her own words.  In fact, she was pretty sure that was the first time she’d ever uttered the word “orgasms” aloud; Chloe and Irena were definitely bad influences on her.

      Giggling, Irena pressed the back of her forearm to her forehead.  Since her hands were covered in flour and bits of dough, it was the equivalent of clapping a hand over her face.

      “Flights- packs, whatever- are good for that, and no, I am not talking about group sex,” she said once she had breath again, sniffing back tears of mirth.  “Mind you, some of those cats…” she trailed off with a slyly speculative expression.  “Anyhoo, there’s different skin privileges between packmates, family, and lovers.  Any might help alleviate touch hunger, but all the hugs in the world won’t cut it if you’re in dire need of a good dicking.”

      “Do you enjoy making me blush?” Lorel mock glared.

      “Yep,” she chirped unrepentantly.  “One of these days I expect to see blood spurt out of your nose like in anime.”  She waggled a hand near her face to mimic a spray of blood.  Lorel flicked a passionfruit pit at the crow who giggled and batted the airborne seed towards the sink where it landed with a plink.  “If he’s offering as a packmate, there’s no strings attached.  It’s just fulfilling each other’s need.  You set your own boundaries when it comes to skin privileges, all you have to do is say no and they’ll back off entirely.  If he wants a relationship, that’s a whole nother kettle of wax, and I don’t know what big cats are like.  Now if it was a corvid, I could give you a crash course.”

      “How can I tell?”

      “Ask him,” she said, hands spread wide, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

      Lorel stared at her like she was speaking another language. 

      “Communication?  You know, the basis of all healthy relationships?” 

      Unsure how to respond to that, Lorel busied herself with straining the passionfruit pulp.  She’d had few healthy relationships and even fewer romantic relationships, none of which had qualified as healthy.

      “Lorel, are you a virgin?”  Irena tilted her head in a way that was distinctly not human.

      “No!”  Her voice was so high it could have shattered glass.  Then, in a calmer register, but not looking up, “Not technically.  Besides, I don’t think he even wants to look at me; I’m half-surprised he hasn’t given up and banished me entirely.”  Inexplicably, the thought made her chest ache till it felt like she couldn’t breathe.  “I haven’t known him very long, but I feel like he’s mine.”  This last she whispered to herself, confounded by the sudden realization.  She hadn’t meant to say it, hadn’t even known she was thinking it until the words tumbled out.

      Irena crossed the workspace to enfold Lorel with a hug, face set with lines of sympathy.  Instincts told her to maintain her guard, to hold some part of herself back, but she was so tired that after a moment she released the tension she carried.  Slowly wrapping her arms around the crow, she laid her head on the taller woman’s shoulder and breathed in the scent of friend, allowing herself to relax.

      Lorel made acquaintances easily, but she’d never clicked as deeply as she had with the friends she’d made in the short time she’d been there.  She’d always kept herself apart to protect the people around her from the violent madness she’d seen as an inevitability.

      To hold that at bay, she lived by rigid rules to keep her other half, the one ruled by needs and emotions, under control.  Being good and demure and all the things she was taught to be had gained her nothing, certainly not the approval of her grandparents; if anything, it put her more at risk of going rogue, if Remi was to be believed.

      Now she knew differently because he was trying to show her a different way.  He’d never demand that she silence herself or hide her wildness, on the contrary, he challenged her to embrace it.  Such an attitude was a stark contrast to the people she’d called family for so long.  He didn’t know that she would have to give up everything she’d ever known, including the people who raised her.

[missmonsters2]

Drive Her Crazy || Part II

PAIRING: Wanda Maximoff x OFC/Reader

Summary: AU. Meet Wanda, the new ‘It’ girl. She’s built her social standing as a social influencer through Instagram and vlogging on Youtube. Queen Bee in her social circle, she’s got everyone wrapped around her finger. She’s perfect, you think. Girls like that require a little finesse, and you’re ready to play the game.

Warnings: Non-healthy relationship, psychological games, smut(?)

Note: Welcome to a Tumblr exclusive! PM me if you would like to be added onto the tag list for updates.

PART I 

PART II of X

Count: 2691

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The sun felt good on your skin. You kind of liked it after living somewhere rainy all the time. You had driven your car to LA and David was able to hook you up with a place to stay since one of his clients was out of town for the next 6 months and didn’t mind having someone there as long as the place wasn’t trashed.

The place was nice and decently sized as you set your equipment down and went back to your car to get your bags.

You had a gig to play at some trust fund kid’s 21st birthday (usually you’d decline these types of requests, but he was paying you enough to buy a liver on the black market), so you needed to drive out to the Palm Desert in two days. 

After you put all your things away, you sat on the bed, pulling out your phone. This was the tricky part. You needed to find an organic way to meet Wanda. You didn’t want to come off as a fan, nor did you want to meet her through work because it would be difficult to discern if she liked you, or if she liked your connections.

You needed to find a way to be in her social circle, without being someone she just networks with.

You were scrolling through her Instagram more in-depth this time, being careful to not like any of the photos.

You discovered that she had a fiancé, some nobody indie singer named Jarvis, but only went by his stage name, Vision (you had to roll your eyes a little at that).

You discovered regular places that she liked to frequent. Book stores, restaurants, bars, beaches, etc.

You tapped your fingers idly at your side. How were you going to bump into her? Her latest Instagram post shared that she had a new partnership with Biologique Recherche and was repping their skincare line, but there wasn’t anything you could really do with that.

You sighed and put your phone away. Closing your eyes, you opted to take a nap, being so tired from the drive.

Maybe you would just have to meet her in a work setting, it would just be harder to move away from just networking friend.

But you weren’t against hard work. 

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By the time you had woken up, it was pretty late. You were a little miffed knowing that it was going to mess with your sleeping schedule, but there wasn’t much that you could do about it now. 

Your stomach growled hungrily, and you got up getting ready to grab a bite to eat since there was no food in the house. You were thinking about heading to that fast food chain that served healthy food bowls. Wanda had posted a photo of it, and you had to admit it looked pretty good.

It was a relatively new chain, so they didn’t have any more than two locations. It was a pretty walkable distance from your place, so you just put on a light cardigan and left.

You were tinkering away on your phone when you walked into the shop, standing in line, not looking up. You shuffled a little as the person in front of you moved up to the counter to put in their order.

“Ah, sorry, hold on. I swear my wallet is in here.” 

The voice makes you look instantly. 

It’s the only voice you’ve been hearing for the past two days.

There she was. Standing in front of you, back turned as she was in yoga pants, a tank top, and a sweater. Probably just coming from a workout. 

You watched as she aggressively looked through her large bag, digging for what you presumed for is a wallet. She sighed disappointedly, letting you know there was no luck in finding the wallet.

This was your organic moment, you thought. It was too good, you were too lucky to get this moment. And you weren’t going to waste it.

Just as she was about to tell the cashier to cancel the order, you stepped up.

“Hey,” you softly greeted, surprising her to look over. You grinned lightly, trying to look a little sheepish and non-threatening. “I couldn’t help but overhear you can’t find your wallet. Happens to me too. If you’re okay with it, you can put your order with mine.”

Wanda eyes you for a moment but then smiles. “Yeah, if you’re okay with that. I can pay you back.”

You chuckle, waving her off and stepping up closer to the cashier to put in your order. “It’s no problem. It’s an $8 bowl, you’re hardly breaking my bank.”

She laughs, bringing you to smile a wider. You pay for the order, and the cashier tells you to grab a seat, and they’ll bring it out to you. 

Wanda turns to you. “Thanks again for that, I swear I brought my wallet with me. Since you don’t want me to pay you back, did you want to eat together? I mean, if you’re not busy and all.”

Your inner voice can’t help but celebrate at how well it’s going, but you put on a happy grin. “Sure.”

You grab a corner table that’s next to the window. Wanda’s hair is in a messy bun before she pulls it out, curls falling over as she pushes her bangs over to one side.

She’s too gorgeous, you think. 

“I’m Wanda,” she introduces herself. 

You introduce yourself back and set your phone facing down on the table. 

“Late night workout?” You ask, eyeing her attire again. She nodded, sipping on her water.

“Yeah, it’s been a crazy hectic day, and I’m trying to be really good about not skipping.” She says with a mischievous smirk making you laugh lightly.

“What about you?” She asks about your day. 

You shake her head, “Nah, I just got in town. I did kind of put some of my things away, but napping kind of put a wrench in getting anything else done and potentially getting any sleep tonight.”

Wanda giggles and you feel like a lovesick puppy trying to get her to laugh again.

The conversation stays polite. You both trade funny stories and anecdotes to get to know each other a little better.

Wanda is trying to not choke on her food as you finish your story.

“No way,” she snorts a little, and you sigh in almost a shameful way.

“Nope, it really happened. I had to scale down her freaking balcony, couldn’t even get my shoes. Guess I was lucky to have my underwear at least.”

Wanda just bursts into a fit of laughter, eyes watering up as she wiped them.

“I can’t believe that happened to you,” she says, still laughing.

You shrug your shoulders, throwing your napkin into your finished bowl. “Me neither. What are the chances of an ex-girlfriend becoming roommates with someone you’re banging?”

Wanda’s laugh has died down, but she grins at you. The night is coming to an end, you’re not really sure how to go from here. You don’t think this warrants asking for her number, and you think she would reject it anyways since she has a fiancé.

You both get up, chatting a little more as you exit. You think you’re about to separate ways, but then you’re both walking in the same direction. You both chuckle, although a little awkwardly.

“Do you live this way?” She asks. You nod.

“Yeah,” you say and then tell her what community you’re living in. Her eyes brighten up happily.

“No way! We live in the same community! Wouldn’t it be crazy if we were neighbors?”

Your eyes widen slightly in surprise. This was insane. This was too coincidental and lucky. You’re starting to get worried you’re going to use up all the luck you have in this lifetime.

You chuckle, almost nervously as you both walk together home. She’s sharing with you about a bookstore she recently went to and loved as it was tiny and unorganized, but every book you pulled out was interesting.

Eventually, you come to her stop. She lived in a nice house as you predicted from getting paid to rep brands. 

“Well, this is my stop. You any further from here?” She says, turning to you. You shake your head. You can’t believe you actually only live a couple blocks from her.

You point down the block and then up the road to where you're staying. “I’m just a couple blocks down and then up that road.”

Wanda’s eyes widened slightly and then her eyebrows furrowed. “Oh, wow, those are the really nice houses. I don’t remember anyone from there put any listings up for sale.”

“Yeah, I’m actually just here for maybe a couple months. I have a friend who knows the owner of a house up there and is letting me stay while they’re in Europe for like, 6 months.”

Wanda nods, understanding more of the situation. With nothing really left to be said, you’re saying goodbye to her, thinking about how you’re going to produce another organic meeting.

At least it would be easier now since you knew where she lived. You could pretend to be on a run and pass by. She said she goes to that new book store on Thursdays, so you could do that.

Just as you’re turning to leave, she calls your name again. You turn back around, wondering if you maybe dropped something. She’s holding her bag strap a little tightly and shifts from one foot to another.

“Did you, um, did you, maybe, want to come inside for a drink?”

You try to make sure you don’t make a surprised face because you think that might put her off and make her backtrack. So, you simply gave her a lopsided smile and nodded. She beamed at you and led you into her house. It’s pretty dark, and you’re wondering where her fiancé is since it’s late.

“Thanks for this, my finacé is out of town visiting a friend, and I hate staying in the house alone.” 

Ah, that explains that. You tell her it’s not a problem. She gets you to sit down on her couch as she turns on a lamp and lights a few candles. Soon the room starts to smell like salted caramel, and you love it. 

Wanda comes back with some wine and hands you a glass as she takes a seat.

“Is this okay? My fiancé hates it when I put on candles, the smell is overwhelming to him.”

You shook your head, taking a sip of the wine. “No, I love the smell. It reminds me of fall.”

“Same!” Wanda grinned.

“So,” Wanda started, swirling around her wine a little. “You haven’t actually moved here then?” 

You shook your head again, leaning back a little more to get comfortable. Wanda is sitting facing towards you, her side leaning against the back of her couch as she has her legs tucked in.

“No, I’m actually just here for work. Though, I suppose if I enjoy it enough, I may decide to move here permanently.”

“What do you do for work?” Wanda asked, eyes piping with curiosity.

“I’m in the music industry,” you say cryptically with a smile. Wanda seemed to take it, though, smiling as her eyes spark.

“Oh! My fiancé, Jarvis, but goes by his stage name, Vision, is also in the music industry. He’s a singer.”

You try to keep your lip from twitching as you ask, “Anything I would’ve heard?”

She pursed her lips, pulling out her phone and loaded SoundCloud on it. 

“Probably not. Vision just likes putting his music out there, he doesn’t really care about making it big.”

Doesn’t care about making it big, or unable to make it big, you wonder.

You hear soft guitar music playing, and you think it’s not bad. Until he sang.

His singing voice itself is pretty good. It’s just his lyrics.

God, you don’t think you’ve written such bad lyrics since you were 13. The song continues to play and you will your face to not cringe. When it finished, you give a smile to Wanda because she’s beaming like she’s so proud.

Your gut clenched because that was so bad and if she’s beaming like that, is she seriously in love with Vision?

“That’s...insane...” you say. 

“I keep telling him to give his demos to agents out there, but he’s not into that. He keeps saying he just likes posting his music and if some hotshot finds him, then it’s meant to be.” Wanda said with a roll of her eyes. 

You chuckled for lack of what to say and then changed the topic. “What do you do for work?”

You already knew, but it would be interesting to see what she would say about it.

“I suppose Vision would say I’m a photographer,” she mused, and you fight the urge to raise your brow. She wasn’t wrong, though, in a way.

“It’s nothing really, I post vlogs and brands pay me to represent their stuff.”

You weren’t really surprised by the humble approach, but you decided to give her what she wanted to hear.

Your eyes widened in surprise, “No way! That’s seriously amazing. So, you’re kind of famous?”

Wanda laughed bashfully, slapping you on your arm a little as she blushed.

“Oh god, no, not like famous, but I’ve got some loyal followers. It’s nothing really, pays good money.”

You take this moment to ask her what her Instagram and Youtube it so you can freely look at it and not worry about accidentally liking anything. You trade social media handles and start chatting again before her phone buzzes multiple times in a row. She gives you an apologetic smile as she checked her phone.

“Oh, man, are you fucking serious?” She groaned, putting her phone back down and throws her head back onto the couch, hand over her eyes.

“Everything okay?” You asked curiously.

Wanda sighed and lifts her head back up, expression dampened by whatever she read. “Yeah, sorry. I have a photoshoot in two days. My friend was supposed to give me a ride since my car is in the shop right now, but she just bailed.”

You watched as she pulled up her phone and scrolled through it, mumbling to see which person might be able to drive her. 

It doesn’t sound promising.

“Where’s your photoshoot?” You ask her. She puts down her phone, looking a little defeated as she looks up at you.

“Palm Desert. Ugh, I think I’m going to have to cab it there.” She winced like she’s thinking about how much it’s going to cost to take a 2-hour taxi ride and you winced too.

You’re going to offer her a ride. It’s a little weird you think since she’s only known you for about 2 hours, but if since the universe keeps giving you these opportunities, you might as well take it.

“I can give you a ride there,” you said, watching her reaction. Her eyes widened, mouth opened a little. 

“What, really? Are you sure?” She asked you, and you’re nearly concerned that Wanda doesn’t seem even slightly worried she’s going to be locked in a car with a person she’s only just met.

You nodded. “Yeah. I actually have to head to Palm Desert for work, so if you don’t mind tagging along, I can give you a lift. What time is your shoot at?”

Wanda looked so grateful as she replied, “It’s at noon.”

You nod, thinking if you have anything to do in the morning, but you don’t.

“Alright, I’ll come get you at 9AM? We can get some breakfast on the way and head out?” You asked, and she nodded her head up and down rapidly, a broad smile on her face.

“Oh my god, you’re a lifesaver! I’m so glad I met you today.” Wanda says, sinking to the couch a little more, drinking her wine leisurely now that her problem was solved.

You tilted your head to the side and smiled.

“Yeah, what a coincidence.”

PART III 

[xxisxxisxxis]

Gateway Drug | Part Twelve

Part Eleven

Pairing: Douglas Booth!Nikki Sixx x OC

Words: 3k

Warnings: Mentions of drug use, implied sexual situations, language

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———————————————————————

She was out of her ever-loving mind.

I watch from the corner of the loud penthouse suite as Tansy dances provocatively on the bar of the kitchen island with Sparkie, a sea of bodies surrounding them and having their own raunch fest as loud pop music blares out over the stereo system.

Every girl here is a model of some sort, everything from Vogue to the cheap porn magazines you get at a check out line of a grocery store, and I'm pretty sure every guy here is a drug dealer judging by the excessive amount of narcotics laying around, and I've witnessed Tansy doing every single one after another.

Worry builds a home in my gut, my eyes watching as the bleach blonde escapes to her own world and zones out, keeping her eyes closed as she clings to Sparkie to keep from losing her balance.

Tansy never touched drugs when we were in high school and she didn't drink that much, yet here she is, acting as if she could be the long lost member of Nikki and Tommy's Terror Twin duo.

I take a swig of my water, watching Tansy start pulling at her tight, Sky blue dress. Knowing better than to try to stop her, I'm left watching her strip down to absolutely nothing. I learned quickly that she's mean when enough drugs get in to her system, trying to stab me with her keys when I tried to get her to keep her clothes on. She knows how she acts when she's messed up, and she's not ashamed of it in the least, so I let her do as she pleases.

I do, however, avert my gaze as Sparkie starts trying to get his pants down to screw her.

Inevitably this will turn in to a huge orgy like every other night we've partied. Plenty of parties in L.A. get this nasty, but Nikki usually keeps stray hands from groping at me. I'm defenseless here, so I know to slip to the balcony out by the master bedroom.

I kick my heels off as I step through Tansy's room, sliding the glass door open at the balcony and step on to the cement, looking over at the shining city.

I look up, unable to see a single star in the sky due to the brightness of the neon lights.

"Well, that's stupid." I mumble, rolling my eyes, looking down at the city over the side of the railing.

"Don't jump," A woman's voice says and I snap around, seeing someone I recognize immediately, not only from Tansy's modeling circle, but from Vanity 6.

"I'm not, I just needed some air." I explain to her, looking back to the city. She stumbles to me slightly, gripping at my shoulder with a shaking hand as she stands next to me before holding on to the metal bar in front of us for support.

Denise Matthews a.k.a...

"Vanity," she introduces herself, extending her hand with the energy of an excited puppy.

Judging by her fidgeting and slight jitteriness, it's drug induced.

"I know." I say back, glancing at her. "I'm Vivian."

"Tansalyn's told me about you." She states with a nod. I frown at her using Tansy's government name, not able to recall the last time I actually called her that. "Why aren't you inside having fun?" She blatantly asks me and I smirk.

"Has she not mentioned I don't do sex parties?" I ask innocently, waiting for her answer.

"Ha!" She laughs humorously, her eyes squeezing closed as if I just said the funniest joke she's ever heard.

"What?" I furrow my brows and she calms down with a hum, her dark red nails pressing to her lips.

"It's pretty impossible to be in this industry and not have a thing, is all." She shrugs and I look at her, confused.

"A thing?"

"A thing to distract you. Like relationships or drugs or alcohol or money...or all of it, if you're like Tansalyn." She suggests, still chuckling. "A thing to help kinda numb you from everything once they strip away every ounce of innocence you have left and turn you in to their pretty little dolly and have you dancing up on their strings." Her dark words are said with a light as air touch to them and I slightly shake my head.

"Oh, I—I'm not in the industry at all. Tansy and some friends back home are my only connections to the entertainment world." I tell her gently.

"You're pretty. They'll snatch you up in the blink of an eye and get something outta you, too, before you can stop any of them, I promise." She tells me, relentless in her attempt to warn me, still speaking as if what she's saying isn't a big deal. She even giggles a little and waves her hand a couple times, dismissively.

"What's your thing?" I ask.

Her candidness fades quickly and she's putting her mask back on, smoothing down her dark hair and licking her glossy lips.

"I don't need one. I just really like what I do." It's bullshit coming from her lips as she gives me the same fake smile she probably gives everyone else to try to help her deny the fact that she’s trapped.

I thought she was a lunatic when I met her. I thought she was a lunatic when I found out she taught Nikki how to freebase cocaine. And I thought she was a lunatic when she and Nikki started hanging out when I wasn't home. Of course all of that happened years after I met her, but had I known I was having a conversation with the one woman who would go on to make my marriage even more of a living hell, I would've thrown her off the balcony.

However, I always felt sorry for her because she reminded me so much of Tansy. And Tansy was in a similar situation as Denise, except Tansy was way too prideful to even hint that anything was wrong. She didn't want to burden any of us with her struggles. I suspected something was off when she informed me of her heroin usage, but she denied it had anything to do with her modeling, so she continued to be used and abused but didn’t reach out for help until she and Sparkie broke up in ‘87.

The next few nights consist of the same type of parties, just at different locations. It isn’t until I sit one of them out and stay at the apartment by myself that I’m actually able to have time for phone calls.

“Viv?" Nikki's voice sounds through the other line once I answer.

"Hey!" I pipe out enthusiastically, glancing at the clock to see it's 2:00am here, which means it's 11:00pm in L.A. "I figured you'd be out with the guys by now." I add.

"Uh, yeah, me and Tommy are about to head out, I was just calling to check up on you." He explains, a quiet moment settling between us before he clears his throat. "You know, I tried calling last night and the night before and you never answered."

I squeeze my eyes shut and rub my forehead with my free hand, breathing out.

"Yeah, we haven't been here very much, actually." I say to him truthfully. "Tansy's a hell of a lot more busy than I think any of us thought she was. She has to wake up at eight o'clock in the morning and she works all day and parties all night. We only come back to her apartment to make a quick clothing change, and then again when we get back in the middle of the night to go to bed."

"Tansy parties all night?" He asks me skeptically and I scoff.

"So badly that the Terror Twins might have to turn in to the Terror Triplets." I state.

"Oh, damn." He chuckles and I rub my lips together.

"Also," I start nervously. "Tansy's asked me to stay an extra week."

The other line is silent, and I begin to think I lost his call or something, but I hear his heavy breath sigh out.

"I know I've already been here for over a week and I said I'd only be gone for two weeks but I never get to see her, Nikki." I point out.

"Well, we don't necessarily see each other as much as we use to either, Viv, even when you're here." He argues.

"And neither of us can really help that. Unless you want to quit music and work a nine to five while I go back to school."

"I just thought the point of you quitting school was to avoid leaving us but none of us have gotten to see you much any this past month." He argues.

"Because you're working on an album and I have my own things I want to do, like visit my friend when she needs me to." I try to keep from getting too defensive. "If you can't go three weeks without seeing me then how are we gonna raise a baby with you traveling everywhere because I'm not taking a baby all over the world, Nikki."

"That's not even anything to be worried about. We'll cross that bridge when we get there a very, very, very long time from now." He's matter of fact and I roll my jaw, about to throw a wrench in to his plans.

"Well, then God has a sense of humor because I'm pregnant, Nikki. And I would like to cross that bridge before I'm in labor with my husband in a completely different country."

I can't stop myself from blurting it out, and the line's an ear shattering silence for God knows how long before he suddenly hangs up the phone.

I didn't blame him for lack of communication after that. I had basically told him, over the phone, he couldn't afford to be a Rockstar the way he dreamt of for years. It was the one time I had told him I was pregnant, out of seven pregnancies, and it wasn't in the way I had wanted to tell him, and that was my fault. I couldn't blame him for it.

I got through half of the next week, which was the third week I had been in New York with Tansy before the unattempted phone calls from Nikki and blatant ignoring of my calls to Nikki, got the best of me.

I head to the doors of the airport, my bags in hand as I step outside and see Vince's car, with him leaned against it with crossed arms. I let out a relieved breath that he didn't forget about me.

He gives me a closed mouth grin as I approach him with a similar expression. I'm not sure if Nikki's told him or not, but he doesn't seem to make a big deal about it if he does know.

I set my bags down as he takes a step closer to me and hugs me.

I'm used to Vince's playful little passes, like randomly holding my hand for a few seconds, putting his arm around me, biting me, trying to lick me, and hugging me with the same energy of a horny Chihuahua humping a pillow. But this is a genuine hug without teasing intentions, which is something I don't recall ever getting from him.

He smells like tanning oil and light liquor, his exposed arms, chest and abdomen from his opened white button down shirt, are extremely warm and he has the tiniest hint of a sunburn on his nose.

"You left the beach for me." I state, pulling away to look at his freshly sun-kissed skin.

"I was your only hope being that the other guys are in the studio." He explains with a shrug, grabbing my bags and putting them in to the trunk of his car.

"Oh, I bet Nikki loves the fact his singer isn't putting forth any effort." I add and he rolls his eyes behind his brown tinted aviator sunglasses as the two of us get in to this car.

"Once Nikki stops bitching and actually writes me some fuckin' music to sing, I'll get in the studio." He says and I buckle my seatbelt and hold back a laugh. "So, what're the wedding plans, now?" He asks me casually after a moment of driving.

"If we even get married. Nikki might just run for the hills and pretend he doesn't know I exist while chasing his dreams." I comment, rubbing my eye and Vince takes in a sharp breath. "Probably end up getting married this month like he wanted to do originally. I don't want to be fat at my wedding."

"There's always Vegas." Vince suggests, trying to lighten the mood. "Holy shit your mom's gonna stroke out, Viv." He laughs at the realization and I eventually join him, the two of us sadistically finding humor in my mother's disapproval.

"...Is he mad at me?" I ask after we calm down and he shakes his head.

"I've been needing an excuse to kick his fucking ass and him being pissed at you is a good one."

"The hell happened between you two?" I ask him and he scoffs.

"He's just being an asshole."

There's a pause that passes between us and I think of one thing that's against Vince if he and Nikki are to ever get in to a physical altercation.

"He's a little taller than you, Vince." I remind him.

"Which means I swing low, Viv." He assures me and I raise my brows.

Once we get to the parking lot of the studio, he pulls a flash from his glove box and takes a few sips, offering it to me.

I raise a brow and look at him, then at the flask, and back to him.

"Oh," He closes it. "I forgot you don't drink."

I want to say, "I'm also pregnant" but decide against it, letting him have his moment.

We get out of the car and head inside, seeing Doc and

one of the sound engineers heading back inside the studio.

Doc stops when we get to the door, holding it open for Vince and greeting him.

"Vivian," He says to me next as I'm about to walk in to the room. "Congratulations."

I don't say anything in return, only giving him a small smile as I prepare to face Nikki.

My eyes catch on him before he even notices I'm here and I watch with cut eyes as he and Tommy cut up a couple of lines together and take turns snorting it, being adored and doted on by two incredibly scantily clad women hanging off each of them.

A part of me wants to knock Nikki and the brunette in the back of the head, but another part of me doesn't feel like she's worth the wasted breath it would require to tell her to screw off, if Nikki clearly won't reinforce it. And the fact that he won't pisses me off.

"Down, kitty." Vince mumbles teasingly as he pats my shoulder before brushing past me to get to the sound booth and Doc glances at me, noticing my discomfort.

He deliberately hits the intercom before clearing his throat, catching Tommy's, Mick's and Nikki's attention just as Vince walks in.

Like a toddler, Tommy's squealing when he sees me, discarding the blonde woman next to him as he trips over the back of the couch, trying to jump over it in order to get in here to me.

He's snatching the door open in a heartbeat and attacking me, nearly taking me to the ground with his weight as he clings to me as if for dear life.

I close my eyes after a second of him squeezing me to him and telling me how much he's missed me, trying to fill me in on what all's happened here while I've been away.

My calmness is short lived as I open my eyes and see that Nikki hasn't even given me a second glance, continuing to strum at his bass as he shows something about it to Mick.

"You excited or what, Viv?" Tommy nudges me with his elbow, showing me a wide smile. Of course Tommy's stoked. I didn't expect any less from him.

"Very." I tell Tommy. It's a partial lie, but I can't bring myself to ruin his positivity.

When Nikki and Mick finish up, Mick's kicking at his leg, causing Nikki to finally look at me.

He brushes it off and goes back to work, shaking his head a little.

Everyone seems to be oblivious about what's going on, aside from Mick, who just gives me a glance and says something to himself, picking at his guitar and scribbling another note down.

I just want to go home.

I step to the door of the sound booth and swing it open, causing Vince, Mick and the two girls to look at me as I step towards Nikki, holding my hand out to him.

"Keys." I say blankly, raising a brow as he stops playing.

He finally acknowledges me, looking up at me blankly as I start tapping my foot on the floor, knowing it'll piss him off if I do it enough. Ignoring me, he turns back to strum on his bass and ask Mick's opinion about a lyric.

"May I have the car keys, please, Nikki." I ask him venomously, knowing he's ignoring me to be spiteful about my attitude.

"You're not driving my Porsche." He states and I cross my arms.

"You mean the Porsche I begged you not to buy?" I ask.

"I mean the Porsche I've worked my ass off for." He snaps around to face me.

"Well, I want to go home." I argue.

"You can always walk." The brunette, that was practically dry humping Nikki earlier, speaks up from the couch she's seated on.

"You can always suck my clit." I shoot back and she rolls her jaw.

"Better yet, go back to New York." She's borderline raising her voice at me.

"Better yet, go back to the street corner you were scraped off of."

"Cunt." She states.

"Hey! Shut your goddamn mouth!” He yells at the girl, pointing his finger at her.

She closes her mouth, glaring at me, and I wait for Nikki to give me the car keys so I can leave.

He looks at me, letting out a frustrated breath before handing me the keys to his Porsche.

“Just go.” He says as waves me off, irritated.

“I'll see you when you get home, then." I tell him, giving the strange girl one last cut of my eyes before storming out and slamming the door.

[artemis-entreri]

[[ This post contains Part 6 of my review/analysis of the Forgotten Realms/Drizzt novel, Boundless, by R. A. Salvatore. As such, the entirety of this post’s content is OOC. ]]

Genre: Fantasy

Series: Generations: Book 2 | Legend of Drizzt #35 (#32 if not counting The Sellswords)

Publisher: Harper Collins (September 10, 2019)

My Rating: 2 out of 5 stars

Additional Information: Artwork for the cover of Boundless and used above is originally done by Aleks Melnik. This post CONTAINS SPOILERS. Furthermore, this discussion concerns topics that I am very passionate about, and as such, at times I do use strong language. Read and expand the cut at your own discretion.

Contents:

Introduction

I. Positives I.1 Pure Positives I.2 Muddled Positives

II. Mediocre Writing Style II.1 Bad Descriptions II.2 Salvatorisms II.3 Laborious “Action”

III. Poor Characterization III.1 “Maestro” III.2 Lieutenant III.3 Barbarian III.4 “Hero” III.5 Mother

IV. World Breaks IV.1 Blinders Against the Greater World IV.2 Befuddlement of Earth and Toril IV.3 Self-Inconsistency IV.4 Dungeon Amateur IV.5 Utter Nonsense

V. Ego Stroking V.1 The Ineffable Companions of the Hall V.2 Me, Myself, and I

VI. Problematic Themes (you are here) VI.1 No Homo VI.2 Disrespect of Women VI.3 Social-normalization VI.4 Eugenics

VII. What’s Next VII.1 Drizzt Ascends to Godhood VII.2 Profane Redemption VII.3 Passing the Torch VII.4 Don’t Notice Me Senpai

Problematic Themes

No Homo

Boundless continues to perpetuate some long-standing regressive to outright harmful ideas, as well as introducing new ones. There are two that are the biggest. The first is something that's existed for over two decades in the Drizzt books, and something that I've criticized Salvatore for for a long time: the fetishization of sapphic relationships. While Boundless is an improvement (and a bit of an oddity for Salvatore) in that it doesn't include any gratuitous lesbian sex scenes or allusions, it still very much perpetuates an imbalanced representation, such that it wouldn't be fair to describe it as true representation. Yet again, despite it being canon that the default sexuality in the Realms is pansexuality as opposed to heterosexuality in our world, the only people that we see in Boundless that are capable of same sex attractions are female. Ever since the token gay guy Afrafrenfere's epiphany that everything else he'd been engaged in, which includes his deceased boyfriend, was a distraction from enlightenment, there hasn't been so much of an implication that men could be attracted to other men in Salvatore's Realms. There exists more chemistry between Harbonair and Zaknafein than between Zaknafein and Dab'nay, which is rather sad given that the latter pair are actively sexual with each other. There's of course the possibility that Salvatore just doesn't know how to write gay male chemistry, but to be fair, his heterosexual chemistry is pretty bad. Most of it is just sex or another physical act spontaneously happening that triggers a change in the nature of the relationship, for instance, the start of the relationship between Entreri and Calihye. There's so much background "everyone is heterosexual" stuff going on that to be inclusive, Salvatore just needs to mention that there's more than one man in an orgy rather than it always being one man to many women. Or, better yet, use an example directly from the world canon that other authors have used, namely, that the workers of a brothel or attendants in a temple of Sune are of more than one gender and that a male client is greeted by both male, female, and other gender-identifying attendants. Casual inclusion of this nature isn't difficult, and we see Salvatore do it with sapphic stuff enough that leads me to believe that it's a choice on his part not to be fully inclusive. 

An example of when Salvatore could've gone for inclusion, but instead went for fetishization, is in the scene of Dahlia infiltrating a Waterdhavian nobles' ball:

This isn't much better than gratuitous lesbian sex scenes at the total exclusion of gay men. It's completely unnecessary for Salvatore to have specified that women also drooled after Dahlia; simply stating "people" would've been sufficient. It's not like Salvatore doesn't have many chances and setups where he can drop a hint that gay men exist in the Realms like he does so frequently for gay women. Oftentimes, Salvatore's writing feels very much like he realizes that there's "too much" chemistry between two male characters, such that he has to throw in a "NO HOMO" wrench. For instance:

While there isn't anything inherently gay in this passage, there isn't anything inherently gay in so many places where Salvatore artificially injected "these women are sapphic" indicators. Yet here, between two male characters, it's specifically clarified that it's brotherly love. Love is love, it shouldn't have to be clarified like this. Sure, some people might jump to romantic love, but so what? This was a good opportunity to at the very least, leave it vague, but apparently Salvatore can't stomach it enough that he has to cross the possibility out with a bold black marker (maybe its the same sharpie he uses on the tapestry of Faerûn). It's as though the possibility of romantic love between two men somehow taints the sacredness of their bond. Salvatore's writing style is very old-fashioned and set in its ways, but that's no excuse not to change. Despite his espoused views on social media, Salvatore's lack of representation in his writing suggests a discomfort that he doesn't want to address. This is increasingly problematic as we try to push to a better world with more acceptance and equality. Inclusion isn't truly inclusion if it's done with only a portion of the population. 

Disrespect of Women

What Salvatore does with sapphic women is fetishization, which is additionally problematic because it's a short hop from objectification of women. This point is one that I haven't touched on much in the past, but it's glaring in Boundless because in this novel, Salvatore also tries to demonstrate respect of women. Salvatore has a long history of poorly-written female characters. In his books, a female character's most redeeming characteristics were that she was hot and young. For a while, I could tell which female characters were there to stay, which were doomed to die from the get-go, and which would suffer horribly as they met their inevitable end. It always had to do with how physically attractive the character was, and usually with respect to how she measured up to Catti-brie's beauty. Not counting female villains like Sheila Kree who were not coincidentally unattractive, protagonist characters weren't spared this treatment. For instance, Delly Curtie didn't hold a candle to Catti and could barely find happiness with Catti's rejected suitor. By the same token, Innovindil, who, despite being a full-blooded elf, wasn't as beautiful as Catti, and was subsequently very short-lived. Dahlia, another full-blooded elf who wasn't as beautiful as Catti, admittedly didn't die (yet), but what she went through is arguably worse. Dahlia is portrayed to be very much second best to Catti, from her looks to her rejection by Drizzt to Catti outright beating Dahlia in a fight. So, of course, Dahlia gets stuck with Entreri, who's frequently portrayed as second best to Drizzt. Salvatore does deserve credit for trying to break the mold with Penelope Harpell and Wulfgar, but Penelope's appearance doesn't leave much of an impression. We're reminded multiple times that she's an older woman, and the focus is on her personality, but with how often younger female characters' physical appearance is mentioned and re-mentioned, it gives the impression that Salvatore doesn't believe older women can be physically attractive. As always, Catti-brie was an exception to the rule, for even in her mid-forties, "her form, a bit thicker with age, perhaps, but still so beautiful and inviting to [Drizzt]", a characterization that follows another sentence describing how beautiful she was barely a page prior. But we don't hear such about Penelope, instead, we're told about the strengths of her personality, which are admirable, but only become the focus for her, rather than for a young-appearing strong female character like Yvonnel the Second. This is not to mention that someone's form probably shouldn't be characterized as inviting, as that is something the person should do, not something done by the person's looks. The objectification of women is problematic enough on its own, but instead of addressing the issue, Salvatore appears to consider it sufficient to put in a significant anecdote featuring a temporary character to prove that he is an ally to women. The mysterious "demon" possessing the little girl Sharon is painted as a moral adjudicator, entrapping the evil in its unbreakable cocoons filled with wasps that have human faces. Before this "demon" entraps Entreri, it ensnares an old man, whom we're simply told is an old lecher, with no insight about what makes him such and what wrongdoings he'd committed. All we know is that he and his wife attempted to kidnap Sharon and threatened to kill her if she resisted. It's not very clear what's going on in that scenario or what the couple's intentions were. The man's description shifts suddenly from nothing to "old lecher", and he is damned to an eternity of suffering. But how was he a lecher? Was Salvatore trying to imply that he intended to sexually assault Sharon? Or was human trafficking one of his many sins, with the "lecher" part referring to how he is towards women? While all of these crimes certainly warrant harsh punishment, the message that Salvatore's trying to convey isn't clear. Furthermore, the anecdote gives the reader zero satisfaction in the guy's punishment, because we're only marginally invested in what's happened. His anecdote is nothing more than a cheap and lazy setup to illustrate what the "demon" can do.

Social-normalization

The second of the two worst among Salvatore's long-standing problematic themes is the simplified and social-normative qualifications of what makes a person worthwhile. To put it simply, one is good and just if they are the Companions of the Hall and/or act like them, despite the many many ways that the Companions behave unheroically and hypocritically. On the flip side, one who doesn't subscribe to or follow the model of the Companions is evil, bad, or not worthy of existence unless they change to become like the Companions. Of the latter group, it isn't sufficient to change to become a different version of themselves. For instance, during the demonic assault, Zaknafein throws himself into the fray of battle, risking his life, yet again, for his ungrateful son. Yet, Drizzt's takeaway from watching his father do this is, "joy to see his father so willingly risking his life for the cause of the goodly folk of the Crags". There appears to be a subconscious inconsistency here on Salvatore's part, for he even writes that Zaknafein helps the dwarves because Zaknafein knows it's what his son wants him to do, so removing Drizzt from the picture, Zaknafein wouldn't be doing it solely on behalf of the dwarves. Zaknafein isn't Drizzt, and that's a good thing, for not everything needs to be a Drizzt clone, but Salvatore doesn't seem to agree with that assessment. 

Salvatore doesn't seem to realize that Drizzt is the problematic one. Boundless represents a point in time in which it's been awhile since Zaknafein has returned. During this time, while Zaknafein has been trying to adapt and adjust his worldviews, Drizzt's perspective hasn't changed at all, despite Jarlaxle spending a great amount of time talking to him about Zaknafein and presumably helping Drizzt get past the initial emotional turmoil of the return of Zaknafein and his own struggles with reconciling the past and the present. There's also a double-standard here, for while Entreri is forced to change because enough time has gone by, Drizzt isn't. 

It really seems to be the message that the only characters that are good and valid need to be as close to Drizzt as possible, and this belief applied to Entreri has been the cause of the assassin's increasingly poor characterization. Entreri has become a "better person" by the narrator's approximation, a quality that is, yet again, not coincidentally synonymous to being an ally to the Companions of the Hall. Artemis Entreri may very well have become a better version of himself, but that is not, and should not be, becoming more like the Companions of the Hall. By whose definition is "a better person" anyway? By Drizzt's? By the Companions'? It's often the case that those that believe that they are the definition of what's right and define others' morality relative to themselves are the least qualified to do so. 

Eugenics

Although not as prominent as the two themes already mentioned, one final consistent problematic theme of Salvatore's in the Drizzt books that I'd like to discuss is the idea that mediocrity and excellence are inherited traits. Boundless reminds us yet again that all of the offspring of Rizzen are as unpromising as he is, and while it isn't specifically stated that all the offspring of Zaknafein is very much otherwise, we have over thirty books basically telling us that so it probably doesn't need to be repeated. While it is true that genetics do play a role in determining what makes up a person, genetics do not lock in guaranteed results. Yet, the undistinguished Rizzen sired "the mediocrity of Nalfein", and as though that insult wasn't bad enough, "His pants fell down, too. Again, and as expected, unimpressive." Dinin "would do Rizzen proud", but that's not saying a whole lot because it was in the context of the total failure of Nalfein. There's a further level of problematic theme here, for perpetuating the stereotype that a man's worth is at all related to the size of his genitalia. All of that aside, not everyone is privileged enough to be born to top specimens, and those that weren't inherently already have a struggle on their hands. They don't deserve to have the idea that they'll be mediocre no matter what perpetuated. Genetics might be what makes an individual, but what defines them is the actions that they take.

[some-cookie-crumbz]

Another Set of Updates

Okay, gonna try to keep this as brief as possible!

My poll regarding which Kidge-a-Palooza AU I should turn into a story proper is still available: [here]. I’m gonna leave it up for another week or so, so please give it a vote if you haven’t already!

Chapter 4 of Here (In Your Arms) is up and available: [here].

Chapter 2 of Paint me in Trust is up and available: [here].

Chapter 2(6) of Time, Space and Everything Between is up and available: [here].

Since the update for Time, Space and Everything Between is up, I wanted to clarify a few things about where it’ll be going from hence forth. That information (spoiler free) can be found below for those that are interested.

Okay, so, confession time! This fic wasn’t supposed to become what it is now. Originally, I planned for this fic to be about six/ seven chapters and go in a somewhat different direction than it has. There was going to be an entire chapter dedicated just to the Kogane and Holt families bonding. The rescue of Shiro was going to go almost the same as it did in the series canon, with Keith being kept on Earth with his father using his camouflage device and entering the Garrison in hopes of snuffing out who the Blue Paladin was. The only big changes to it that I intended to make was Keith and Pidge knowing each other prior, Keith actually being a Galra, and when they head back to the shack, they’re greeted by Papa Kogane. From there, I was planning to end the fic with them going through the wormhole and implying events played out mostly the same as canon. But, then I decided I didn’t really like that idea either, so then I thought I’d go the route of letting Keith grow up with the Holt’s. Like, Ethan moving out there and Krolia leaving Keith on Earth to have a tradional human childhood.

As you can see, I didn’t end up doing any of that. And you may be wondering why.

Because the last season of Voltron left me that disappointed but I will admit I had issues with the show even before that Spit-in-the-Face ending but we’ll get there and I was raised by parents who said “If you don’t know how you’d improve something, you shouldn’t be the one to complain about it.”

Well, fine then. I’m gonna do just that.

ALSO I WANT TO CLARIFY that I am NOT saying I could have written the show better than the show runners themselves! I’ve never been in the position(s) they were in. I do, however, have the benefit of hindsight, which allows me to look at where the show succeeded and failed respectively, and take steps that I think would offer a more cohesive, enjoyable story-telling experience as a whole. I am taking the things that I, personally, took issue with, as well as some of the bigger things I’ve seen the fandom at large take issue with. At the end of the day, though, most of these decisions will be made from my own personal desires/ whims (since, you know, ship-feels and all that jazz). I will, however, be open to criticism from any and all who read my fics, so please feel free to tell me what you think does or doesn’t work as we go along.

I’m gonna break this down into four main categories down below; Things I’m Adding, Things I’m Cutting, Things I’m Adjusting, and Cut Fic Content. All but one of these is pretty self-explanatory, I think, but I promise to explain that little oddity when we get there. I’ll also touch on what and why I chose to approach certain things the way that I did.

Things I’m Adding

Melenor and Garett

Queen Melenor is kind of an anomaly in the series, don’t you think? It was kind of implied throughout most of the series proper that she died while Allura was still pretty young, which would have made a lot more sense for both Allura’s relationship with Alfor, as well as why Alfor was so distant from Zarkon when Daibazaal began tattering at the seams. But then Season 8 happened and threw all that out the window! All of a sudden, Melenor’s death suddenly carries this great significance for Allura, to the point she has a hallucination about her. Plus, it also kinda throws a wrench into scenes from the earlier seasons. Allura specifically says “Zarkon killed my Father and my Mother!” but… If Melenor was killed by Zarkon, where was she during the fall of Altea? Why wasn’t she with her daughter and husband in the final moments? And it makes even less sense when you look at that first scene where Allura and Coran were introduced. There were eight pods there. You mean to tell me Alfor didn’t think it might be a good idea to save an extra body or two to help guide Allura as she steps into the role she will have to take once he’s gone? Or even to help with maintaining/ rebuilding the Castle of Lions?

So, I’ve decided to add Melenor as a way to give some more characterization to not only she herself as a character, but also Alfor. Plus, I decided to make use of Garett (whose name I spell differently for reasons), Coran’s son from the original series, too. I think it’d be more fun to have an extra set of hands on board to help maintain the Castle of Lions and teach the Paladins, but maybe closer to their age range. So, we’ll see how things go with adding him to the roster. :3

Backstory for the Blades

This was something that we should have gotten a little bit of exposition on, considering how inflated their importance got. Like, the Blade became instrumental to the functionality of both Voltron and the Rebels due to their intelligence gathering. I think it’d have been kind of cool to see where it all started and what events in specific triggered it into becoming.

More Focus on Team Relationships

I didn’t really feel like the big victory against Zarkon was earned at the end of Season 2. I also didn’t think the team really earned any of their bigger victories, such as against Lotor and Honerva. They never felt like a real team that meshed because they just kinda stuck the same pairs/ clicks together. This was my biggest issue throughout most of the show and I really want to explore the dynamics we never really got to see. There are a few standout relationships that definitely needed some retooling, but I’ll mention those farther down. 

More Alien Worlds

Sci-fi and Fantasy are my big genres because I. Fudgin. Love seeing the designs for different technology, worlds and races. And while we did get some interesting ones with the series proper - which I’ll be mostly still including - I wish we’d gotten to see more. So, because I have no self-control, I’ll be planning to do that here!

Shiro’s Love Life

Shiro deserved better. I feel like that’s kind of something that most of the fandom can agree on. I don’t say this from a place of hate for Curtis, though, because… Well, what is there to hate? He was a literal background character who did nothing, said maybe two lines of dialogue, and that was it. Considering how much they pushed Shiro being the rep for the LGBT+ crowd, they did literally nothing with his love life. Hell, Adam was only revealed as his fiance because Bex fought tooth and nail for them to say it! If they hadn’t pushed the way they did, it would have all been subtext.

So, Shiro is going to have a romantic side plot in this fic, where we’ll focus on him and the character I’ve picked to be his partner.

Minor Side Romances

Some other little side pairings are gonna get a bit of love, here, too, since Voltron really only did the romance side of things well with, like, two couples. All the main couples are also gonna get plenty of spotlight, but I also think it would be fun to do some smaller side ships every now and then, too.

Things I’m Cutting

Villain Roulette

There was way too much jumping back and forth between who our main villain to focus on was. Bam, it’s Zarkon! No, wait, now it’s Lotor! Just kidding, here comes Zarkon again! Except that it was actually Lotor! Or so you thought; it’s actually Honerva haha great prank amiright? It was exhausting and I think it’d be a lot simpler to just… Stick with one villain who controls the smaller monster-of-the-day bad guys for an extended period of time and, once they’re for reals defeated, then move on to the next. I’ll be taking this approach for the sake of not only having a more focused story, but also my own sanity. I’ve never been good at gambling so trying the same thing as the show would probably turn out even worse for me.

Keith’s Excellent Blade Adventure with His Mommy

This is all unnecessary in this story, so we won’t be doing it at all. Keith’s sorry purple tail is staying with Team Voltron; no buts, no fuss, no coconuts.

Shiro’s Illness and Adam’s Death

Adam’s death is something I could go on about for hours specifically because it seemed unfair and kinda petty. Like, I feel they killed him specifically because they couldn’t kill Shiro, and they wanted to amp up the Tragic Backstory for our prior leader. So, instead, that’s getting the boot, as well as Shiro’s illness, since it’s also unneeded for plot convenience. Plus, it could have been nice to have a character that was willing to call Shiro out on the Atlus. Shiro always got treated like some kind of flawless entity, and I think it’d been nice to have someone call that Nice Guy Schtick out.

Allura and the Entity Plotline

This whole thing made no sense, got no proper development because of how late into the game they introduced it, and ended up being nothing more than a tool for them to kill Allura off. So, that can GTFO of my house post haste.

The Ending as a Whole

Some parts of the ending worked, but most of it just sucked. When the ending is so bad that it makes me feel obligated to stan characters I was ambivalent/ outright disliked? Yeah, gonna need to walk that back a bit.

Most of Seasons 3-6

The pacing in these seasons really was terrible. We derailed working on the team dynamic, building up the Coalition and Rebel forces, and developing the Paladins’ characters to instead focus on all that shit with Lotor. That… Was infuriating. Especially considering it was all basically a waste.

Additionally, we had Keith sidelined and his arc - which was clearly going to be center around him learning how to be a leader - completely pushed aside and then treated as if it did happened when he showed up late with Starbucks at the end of Season 6. That felt really unbelievable to me.

Time Skips

There were way too many time skips, for serious. Especially when those time skips didn’t include any kind of change in development/ character for the team. There’ll be smaller time skips, but nothing as egregious as what we got in seasons 6 and 7.

Things I’m Adjusting                                                              

Lion Swap

This’ll still be happening, but the circumstances that trigger it will be different. I may also shift around who gets to take which Lion when we get to that point. I haven’t decided just yet, but I’ll have it figured out before we reach that point. Most of this fic is already planned out and, honestly, the Lion Swap will be finalized once I figure out what I’m doing with a few of the other characters.

Shiro and Keith’s Relationship

This, right here? This was one of my biggest issues with Voltron. Keith was completely codependent on Shiro, while Shiro clearly cared about Keith’s well-being but it always felt like he’d have been just fine if something similar to what happened to him happened to Keith. It’s just… Really gross to me. It doesn’t help that I also find the whole “Dying for Your Lover” Trope – which I’ve seen a lot of people praise The Black Paladins for implying - to be incredibly disgusting and unhealthy. Also Keith’s flagrant hypocrisy never getting called out bothers me a lot since I actually like when a character behaves in a hypocritical manner, since it feels organic, but it has to be called out because hypocrisy can lead to double-standards and create harmful environments and I need to stop for now

So, Keith and Shiro are still going to be close, but they aren’t going to be that close.

Keith and Allura’s Relationship

Oh, look! Another potentially interesting aspect of the show that they kinda dropped the ball on! I really hated Allura’s heel-turn on Keith when it’s revealed that he’s Galra in S2 because a) It’s not like Keith himself knew this and was actively hiding it, and b) It felt out of character for the way Allura had been presented thus far. Her lashing out at Zarkon when she was captured made sense since he directly killed her father, her people and her planet. And I could understand being wary of the Blades – to the extent that she was in the first half – but after Keith’s heritage is revealed, she’s completely cold to him and only seems to decide he’s a good guy when he’s willing to take on a potential suicide mission! They either needed to drag the animosity out and show it effecting Allura’s ability to work with the team as a whole and also show the team sticking up for Keith because the fact that Hunk was the only one that said anything is kinda messed up like where tf was Shiro if he and Keith are oh so close? or they needed to tone Allura’s attitude towards him back a bit more, have her approach him in a manner similar to how she addressed the Blade members; acknowledging he is there and contributing, but not praising or thanking him outright.

And since Keith presents and knows he’s part Galra from the start in this fic? Well, we’ll actually get to play around with that dynamic a little more. And while I’m on the subject of our favorite Altean princess…

Allura’s Character Inconsistencies

Allura’s character jumped around a lot in some of the earlier seasons and I’d be willing to wager that this is because the writers never settled on an age for her. And I don’t mean during the big changes like her becoming a Paladin or Lotor’s betrayal, since it’d make sense she be shaken by situations that drastic. One minute, she’s this composed, confident and well-spoken young leader doing the best she can. The next, she’s a more temperamental sort who has low self-esteem/ confidence in her own abilities to even successfully contribute to a team. Now, I think I kniw what they were trying to do; they were trying to show that the more impulsive side of her is more genuine while the composed side is her trying to be the leader she is expected to be. I get it. They fixed this and improved on it later down the line, but they could have done better by maybe addressing it and using it as a chance to develop her relationship with another member or two of Team Voltron.

Season 2’s Ending

The defeat of Zarkon happened way too soon. Especially since then, because they wanted to play around with Lotor’s intentions, they had to bring him back as a cyborg-zombie fueled by quintessence. Zarkon should have only been defeated once and then we should have been allowed to move on to the next main villain. As such, I’m moving Zarkon’s defeat further down the line and will be modifying some of the consequences there in.

P Much Everything About Lotor’s Acr/ Motives

Lotor… Man, Lotor was confusing and a lot of wasted potential. They painted him as if they wanted him to be a morally grey villain, where he does terrible things for what he considers the betterment of others, but then, once it’s revealed that he was keeping secrets, he just… Goes full ham. He becomes Evil McAwful incarnate and it felt unrealistic. There were about 20 different directions they could have taken Lotor – before and after the reveal – and I just didn’t care for the approach they took. So, I’ll be doing things a little different and seeing how that goes.

What I’m Keeping from Seasons 3-6

Very, very little things are going to be kept from each of the aforementioned seasons and implemented in the fic. I’m not planning to keep too many of the big plot moments because they all bled into the issues I had with the story as it stood on its own. I will, however, take some of the small things from those three seasons and include them here. This also applies to certain elements from the other seasons as well, but we’ll get there when we get there.

Adopting Kosmo

Kosmo will be in this fic, come Hell or high water. He is the Best Boi and deserves to be here.

Cut Fic Content

Okay, so here’s the weird one in this line up! As the title implies, there’s some content that I have cut from the fic, even this early on. I actually have some of the Kogane-Holt bonding scenes still drafted up somewhere in my files. I removed them because I was worried that they’d feel too much like filler. There’s also some scenes I started to work out from when I planned to have Keith grow up with Pidge and Matt; specifically including a scene where Krolia and Ethan talk about the idea and decide to commit.

Some of these ideas won’t work in the fic as it stands now, though. I also, however, like the idea of putting it out for everyone to read. So, I’m debating on making a separate one-shot collection of things that could have happened, or just adding them as the occasional buffer between the arcs of the story. I’ll make a poll when I get closer to the point of deciding how to proceed, so keep an eye out for that. :3

That’s all for now! I hope you all enjoy the updates and I’ll hopefully be updating again sooner than this time!

[hereticpriest]

Reap your Rewards

Warnings: Dubcon, brutal NSFW

@lvngdvns

Mischa Tarasov, the eldest of the Tarasov children, had always been everything her father wished. She was brilliant, with a keen mind for business, strategy and tactical defense. She was charming, a brilliant liar, and able to think on her feet. She spoke multiple languages, had been tutored in tactics since she was a child, and had been taught varying forms of self-defence since she was a toddler. Ballet, gymnastics and acrobatics had rounded out her training, giving her versatility and instilling an almost unhealthy work ethic in her. She was everything her brother wasn’t; driven, focused, able to lead or follow in any given situation. Mischa could take a punch, could endure torture, and could inflict it effectively. She was everything that Viggo wanted. Which was also likely why he lost her.

John remembers the day he met her. Viggo was having her perform for him when he called John in for a task. Ever the proud father, Viggo had gestured to his pride and joy and told John to stay and watch. She was skilled, John had to acknowledge it. Even The Director would have approved of her skill, though she likely wouldn’t have shown it.

“John, this is my daughter, Mischa. Mischa, dorogaya, this is Mr. Wick. He works with us.” Viggo introduced them.

“I know who he is, papochka. He killed my boyfriend for you.” The eighteen-year-old hummed, locking eyes with John and blowing him a kiss. Viggo laughed, clapping John on the back and getting him to sit so they could talk while Mischa danced.

Later that same day, John had laid Mischa across her lavish four-poster bed and eaten her out. He had the pleasure of being the first man to make her squirt, the first man to fuck her mouth, and the first man to make her cum without touching her clit. He still remembers the day that, after completing a job, Mischa had crawled into his lap with a stiletto and told him to carve his initials into her thigh. That was also the second-last time he saw Mischa. By then she was twenty-one, in university, and she was leaving in a month to visit her family in Russia.

He remembers her golden blonde hair that always smelt like violets. He remembers her peridot eyes, truly the window to her soul. He could always read her by her eyes, though he was aware that was a talent all for him. He remembers the way he fucked her in the ass, just to say he was the man who had so many firsts with her. She’d bit down on his belt, screaming bloody murder at him despite the fact that he was well aware he’d prepared her enough to take it. Maybe he hadn’t asked for permission, but he rarely did with her. They were toxic that way. Always fighting for the next scrap of eachother. He had scars on his back from her nails ripping into him, and another on his shoulder from her biting into him while he took her on her father’s desk. Perhaps that’s part of why they never worked out.

She left for Russia, left him, and the next and final time he saw her was an accident four years later. He came in to get the details for a job, and she was visiting her father and brother. He knew she had left the mob a couple of years back and had been working for the Bolshoi Ballet in Moscow, but he didn’t know she would be back. He fucked her again in her hotel room, forcing her up into an arabesque and making her scream so loud they got a noise complaint. He took a necklace with him, one that her father had given her when she was little. Maybe part of him knew he wouldn’t see her again.

Which brought him to his current situation. Iosef was dead, Viggo was dead, and he was still angry. Without Helen, his impulse control was shot, and he did the only thing he could think to do. Finding her took the longest. She was back in America, living and working in New York City at the American Ballet Theatre School. Aurelio ended up being the one to give him an address, as he had worked on her bike only a couple of months ago. According to Aurelio, she was assisting a sommelier on the side, designing custom weaponry and modifications. Otherwise, she didn’t have her hands in any business anymore.

Despite the fact that she hadn’t been in the game in at least ten years, he packed enough heat to handle anything. She hadn’t changed her name for some reason, so she clearly could protect herself still; if she couldn’t she would be dead.

Mischa has a pretty regular routine. Up at four AM to be at practice and geared up before six, lunch at eleven, teach classes from noon to four, practice from four to five-thirty with a half hour cooldown, dinner, and then custom work for Hephaestion’s clients until bed at nine or ten. She rarely deviated from her schedule, and only when she didn’t have design work to do. She didn’t have a boyfriend, and only had a couple of friends, one of which was her roommate, Mallory. Mal rarely was home, spending most of her time with her lover, an older man who retired from the life before Mischa and Mallory met. Duncan was one of the few people who knew who Mischa was, but he didn’t bring it up beyond a quick conversation when they met that ended in Mischa reminding him that she knew how to kill him if he crossed her friend.

Mallory and her boyfriend were an odd pair, but they fit, and they left Mischa with the apartment to herself most of the time, so she wasn’t complaining. It was nice having company when she needed it after living a lonely life for so long. It was also nice having someone who understood Mischa, who shared her life and herself and her boyfriend with Mischa. It had been a bit of an accident the first time. Mal was teasing Mischa about never going out and getting laid, legs draped over Duncan’s lap while they shared a bottle of bourbon and a pizza. Mischa was sitting on the floor, her head leaned back against Mallory’s stomach while Mal played with her hair. Duncan had told Mal not to tease her, that Mischa was clearly not someone who could give herself to people she didn’t trust, but also didn’t want any attachments.

“You trust us.” Mal argued when Mischa agreed with him. She agreed again, and Mal thought about it for a moment before giving Mischa’s hair a gentle tug. “You need to get off, Mischa. All you do is work. You’re so tense you make my shoulders hurt just looking at you.”

“Find someone I trust, who also won’t get attached and just wants fun, and I’ll be all for it.” Mischa retorted, and Mal shut her up with a kiss. The trio ended up in Mischa’s bed, as it was the largest, and the next morning, everything was as normal as any other day. Duncan and Mallory continued their relationship without Mischa, without any pressures, and their relationship as a trio was reserved for days when Mischa needed them, or Mallory needed her, or Duncan felt like spicing things up. It was the most comfortable life she could have ever imagined for herself, and she wasn’t sure what she would do when Mallory moved in with Duncan and left her.

Mal and Duncan had been at his place for nearly a week straight, so Mischa took advantage of the massive bathtub that had sold her on the apartment, then walked around in her robe for the night. Standing in front of the window with the night sky behind her and the skyline of the city, she opened her robe enough to offer a tantalizing view of her body and took a picture, sending it to the couple with a text saying she missed them. She was feeling tense again, and she missed Mallory’s voice echoing through the apartment.

She had the weekend off of work, and only had to do her stretches to keep herself limber, so she popped a bottle of red and took two large gulps. She draped herself over the couch, kicking her feet up and closing her eyes. The bottle went to her lips again, and she chugged down a fair amount, but a crunch from the other room alerted her and she threw the bottle in that direction before flipping over the back of the couch. Grasping a knife from its hiding space under the couch, she eyed her exit points and crawled along to the side table to fetch her bronze knuckles.

“Mischa.” His voice sounded from the kitchen, and she swore, peaking out to catch a view of him then throwing the couch in his direction. It knocked him, and she took the chance to bolt into her bedroom and slam the door behind her. The lock wouldn’t hold him off for long, but it gave her the chance to arm herself with the TTI TR-1 Ultralight that she had hidden under her bed. The door comes off of its hinges easily, and Mischa catches her first sight of him in years. He’s still beautiful and it infuriates her that he still sends a pulse of heat straight to her core at the mere sight of him.

“Mischa, stop.”

“I know why you’re here, John. Finish off the family, huh? Doesn’t matter that I had nothing to do with my brother or father’s actions, and it doesn’t matter that I haven’t come after you despite you taking out my only family. I’m not stupid, lyubimiy.” Mischa throws the knife at him and smirks when it buries itself in his shoulder. From his shout, it went deep. However, he knows where she is now, so she begins to crawl under the bed to get to the other side, only to be grabbed by the hips before she gets more than her shoulders under. John wrenches her out, slamming her head against the frame and stepping on her hand to get her to release the SMG she’s clutching.

“Mischa, stop fucking struggling.” John curses, hand wrapping around her throat and yanking her across the floor.

“Let go of me, John.” Mischa claws at his hand, then rotates and hooks her legs around his body. One around his neck pulls him off-centre, while the other gives her leverage to knock him over and get herself up. She gets atop him, pinning him carefully and striking him in the face with her modified bronze knuckles, leaving the imprint of her name in his cheek.

“I won’t go down easy, John. I didn’t take revenge, but if you want to pull this shit with me, I’ll make sure you fucking work for it.” Mischa growls. She fights his attempts to get up, but he jabs his thumb into the spot where he had carved his initials all those years ago, and she goes off balance. He throws her down, straddling her, and she struggles harder, rolling onto her stomach and trying to pull herself from beneath him.

“I certainly want to kill you now, printcessa.” John hisses, slamming her face into the floor again to disorient her, then yanking her robe off. She fights, but he is stronger than her and she can’t see straight, so he is easily able to overpower her, yanking her legs apart to make room for him.

“John, you fucking piece of shit, don’t you dare!” Mischa shouts, and he slaps her, her ears ringing from the impact. He’s inside her before she can say another word, and the entry is made easy by how soaking wet she is.

“I’m not here to kill you, Mischa.” John growls in her ear, yanking her back into brutal thrusts that make her gasp for air. He wraps his hand around her throat, pulling her back so he can kiss and suck at the sensitive skin of her neck. When he sees a DV tattooed behind her ear under an MS, he feels a sick sort of rage build in his gut. He shoves her face down against the floor and fucks her brutally, pulling her back into his thrusts to make sure she will feel him for days.

“Scream for me, Mischa. No one is coming to save you. Not from me.” John groans as she clenches around him and bites back a cry, “You’ve been mine since I first saw you, printcessa. You’re still mine.”

Mischa gasps, clawing at the floor, hips pushing back into him like she isn’t sure if she wants to get away or not.

“Who are MS and DV?” John asks, nipping at her ear, fighting the sick desire to slice the foreign initials out of her. Mischa shakes her head, biting into her wrist to hold back an answer and her screams. He drops his hand to circle her clit in the pattern she used to like, rutting into her until she screams around her skin and shatters to pieces around him. He fills her moments later, her clenching cunt milking every drop from him.

Mischa twists her head to look at him, mouth red with her own blood and eyes hazy, and then her world is darkness.

[jennifersylvesters]

set in ink

Pairing: Tom Holland x reader Word Count: 2.7k~ Warning: potentially a swear, but that’s it? A/N: ah! this is so late! but i guess better late than never? anyways - surprise! this is my valentine gift to @grandmascottlang~ it was so much fun sending you anons and getting to chat with you! thanks so much to @gottaletgopete for setting this valentine’s event up! i hope you enjoy, louise! 

They say that everything changes when you become a teenager. And in some ways, they were right. On a person’s thirteenth birthday, they received a tattoo on their body. No scrubbing or surgery could remove the mark for it would forever remain on your skin. It was a tattoo that connected someone to their soulmate.

When you were twelve, you repeatedly went over all the facts of finding a soulmate. After all you longed to find that special person who was linked solely to you and you alone. You knew it was a symbol that only you and your soulmate had, usually signifying an important point in your life with them. Soulmate tattoo sizes varied, but it was always the same size on each person. The only downside was that it wasn’t always in the same spot.

As your thirteenth birthday rolled around, you were ridiculously giddy for the special day. You woke up, scanning every inch of your body in hopes of finding it. But you couldn’t find it anywhere.

Frustrated, you whined to your friends that you didn’t have one. Were you a special case? Someone designed to be alone for the rest of their life? You moaned that you’d die miserable and without anyone to love you. It wasn’t until your best friend came over to help that you finally saw your tattoo. She tapped underneath your right shoulder blade, announcing that she found what you’d been desperately waiting to see.

Rushing over to a nearby mirror, you stood with your back facing the glass before twisting excitedly to see. Your face fell flat upon looking at the tattoo. It was small - the size of a quarter - and a strange shape. One side was curved while the other side zig zagged. What the hell was that supposed to be?

“I think it’s half of a heart” your friend deciphered as you bewilderedly stared. So it was. But what did that mean? Would you only find out your soulmate after breaking up with someone? Hopefully not. But there were no ideas you could fathom that made this tattoo seem like anything but a bleak choice of design.

Still you did your best trying to find someone with the same tattoo as you. But searching for your soulmate got harder every year. You could flirt with others, find people that you had a semblance of a connection with, only to find out that they didn’t match. What was worse is their tattoos were beautiful, magnificent designs. Some of them were vibrantly colored, almost bursting off the skin. Others were detailed, as if they were inked so delicately with precision. It made you wonder why yours was so simple and well, heartbreaking.

You would try your best to make relationships work, even if you knew they weren’t the one. Yet it got harder pretending to be alright knowing they weren’t destined to be yours. And when you would break up, you would wallow and hope that this wrenching pain would mean that your soulmate was finally coming. But they never did.

Eventually you decided to hell with this. If you never found your soulmate, it didn’t matter anymore. You felt like you’d been through enough. The heartache never got better, never got easier. And your tattoo was just a reminder of that excruciating feeling.

You friends insisted you needed to stop stressing. If you waited long enough, you’d end up with the perfect match. All those words sounded so enticing and warm that you wanted to have such patience. The reality was you couldn't stand this loneliness any longer. It was exhausting and unbearable difficult playing this waiting game.

Time made you hard to the idea of finding love, and there was no holiday that you despised more than Valentine’s Day. It was as if it mocked your pain, teasing how you would never find love. Well, screw that.

This year you decided to throw an anti-Valentine’s Day party. To hell with the mushy love. You’d boo the holiday that only reminded you of your suffering. You managed to rent out a large room in a restaurant, decorating it with black streamers and a heart piñata to smash up. You even commissioned a heart cake that read “suck it”.

While some showed up for moral support, others full heartedly agreed with your statement. They hadn’t found their soulmate either, and some of them didn’t want to at this point. They’d gladly join in on the merriment of hating love if that included a bit of alcohol and fun.  

Even though you would never admit it out loud, you were glad that Tom Holland came to the party as well. You weren’t sure if he came for support or for agreement, but it didn’t matter; either way you enjoyed seeing his handsome face.

You met him through Harrison, who you’d known for as long as you could remember. The moment Harrison introduced you to Tom, your stomach was filled with butterflies. His smile seemed to light up the room and your heart. Tom was a fresh air of breath that you hadn’t realize you needed until he showed up in your life.

Every time the two of you hung out, you found more reasons to like him. What wasn’t there to like? You wanted to be around his kind and endearing presence forever. A part of you wondered if it was possible these feelings were because he was your soulmate. There was nothing wrong with hoping, right?

Except sometimes hope does nothing but bring misery, especially when things don’t work out in your favor.

You had been hanging out with Tom and a couple of friends at Harrison’s house when you noticed it. There Tom was, laughing at something his brother said, when you spotted on the sole of his foot was a small inkling. So somewhere in the world someone special was connected to Tom through a spider tattoo. Unfortunately that person wasn’t you.

Your heart sank, wishing that it had been different. How wonderful it would’ve been to know that someone as sweet as Tom was connected to you. So you decided to give up on Tom. You would stop thinking about him, how his laugh was so lovely to hear and how he could always make you smile. But it was hard not wanting more.

You reminded yourself constantly that he wasn’t your match. But you didn’t feel like there was anything wrong with at least looking at Tom. You could admire Tom for afar knowing it wouldn’t hurt anyone.

But when he smiled with his co-stars or shared a joke between one of the production assistants, you wondered if that was who his destined person was. After all, that tattoo must’ve symbolized that his soulmate had something to do with Spider-Man. The jealousy would slowly creep up on you, making you wish you could forget about this crush.

So when Tom came to your anti-Valentine’s Day party alone, you were secretly thrilled. The last thing you wanted to was to feel miserable at your own party. He greeted you with a hug and complimented you on the decorations. Despite him knowing most people at your party, he kept to your side for most of the night. It was nice being a part of his company even if you weren’t meant to be.

Taking a brief moment outside, you let the wind wash over your face as you sat on the steps of the restaurant. Hearing footsteps approaching, you didn’t bother turning. You could recognize who it was from how he paced and muttered under his breath.

“You can sit if you like, Tommy. Just getting a bit of air.” You waved him over while taking a sip from your bottle of soda. Following your suggestion, he plopped down next to you letting one of his knees bump against yours. The two of you sat in comfortable silence, both of you nursing your drinks as you contemplated what was going on in his mind.

“Do you ever wonder if your soulmate is searching for you as much as you’re searching for them?” Tom wondered out loud breaking the silence. He stared off into the distance before heaving a deep sigh.

You snorted in response. “Obviously mine isn’t trying that hard” you dryly laughed. You looked over at Tom lost in his own thoughts. “At least you kind of have an idea who yours is.”

Confusion overtook his face as he stared at you. “No, I don’t?”

You blinked, raising an eyebrow. “I mean, it’s probably one of the people you work with, right?” Had he never bothered to connect possible clues the way you had? Or perhaps you had more free time on your hands than he did.

He shook his head. Cocking it he continued to look at you quizzically. “How do you figure that?”

“The Spider-Man tattoo?” You gestured to his foot.

Something clicked in his mind as he let out an “oh”, letting the word stretch out.“You saw that? I actually got that done myself.”

“What?”

“That’s not my soulmate tattoo.”

What?

“It’s actually a different one.” This was news to you. After all, you had been so sure that he already narrowed down his candidates, trying his best to spot the spider tattoo from anyone on set. Now it turned out he was just as clueless as you.

Once again, the thought that you pushed away returned once more. Was it possible that Tom was actually your soulmate?

You knew it was a long shot. After all, your success rate was abysmally low.

Still it was possible.

But you didn’t want to ask him. Not here. Not now. The whole point of the party was to wallow in the misery of not having anyone. You didn’t want to raise your chances just to have them simultaneously dashed once more.

So you tried to enjoy the rest of the party without thinking about it. Not that you really could. Because it kept popping up, pestering you about a potential future. “Just ask him” the voice would bother you, and you would wave it off.

It a bit presumptuous to assume that he was your soulmate. Plenty of people got along well with others the way that you did with Tom. Just because he made you heart race and consistently brought a smile to your face didn’t mean he felt the same way or that he was even remotely your soulmate.

Even though you didn’t want to ask him personally, it didn’t stop you from trying to get others to help you out. You attempted to recruit his brothers which was a major bust. Harry burst into laughter at your request, pointing out that you just needed to do was ask him. “Tom’s so honest he’d probably just show you the bloody thing” he laughed.

“That’s not the point” you insisted. “I can’t just ask him to show me. That’d be weird.”

“Weirder than asking his brothers to show you?” Sam asked. Both of them smirked. You let out a groan before shaking your head, muttering about how much you couldn’t stand them.

Meanwhile Harrison proved to be even worse than the boys.

“Haz” you called out sweetly, holding out an iced coffee for him. You figured you could butter him up before requesting your favor. That would hopefully work.

Not bothering to look up, he swiped the drink and took a sip. “No.” You frowned at his response.

“I haven’t even-”

“I know. And no.”

“How can you-”

“Sam and Harry told me. No. Go ask him yourself.”

You tugged on his shoulder, whining that you couldn’t ask him. It was far too embarrassing.

“More embarrassing than begging other people to do it for you?” he quipped. God, you couldn’t stand him sometimes.

“I hate you, Haz” you grumbled as you gave him a soft push on his shoulder.

“Love you too, Y/N” he called out as you left his room.

It seemed as if no one wanted to help you out with your quest, which meant you were forced to take matters into your own hands. Maybe you could trick Tom into telling you about his tattoo. That seemed possible, right? So you texted him asking to hang out, which he responded by saying he would love that very much.

Your knuckles rapped on Tom’s door a couple days later. Silence. You knocked once more, tapping your foot nervously. Still nothing. Remembering how he told you about the spare key under his mat, you lifted up the mat and opened his door.

“Tom?” you called out nervously. Rather than the man you were searching for, Tessa greeted you at the entrance. You scratched the back of her ears to her delight before locking the door behind you.

You called out Tom’s name once more, curious about where he could be. And that’s when you saw him napping on the couch. He looked so peaceful, almost angelic even. You figured you should leave, not bother him while he rested. Yet you couldn’t help but think this was a good time to try and spot his tattoo.

Tiptoeing over to him, you scanned trying to see any ink. Nothing was obvious that you could tell from hovering. So you crouched down, leaning in ever so slightly to see if it might be on one of his arms.

“What’re you doing?” Busted.

You yelped, surprised to realize he was awake. He opened one eye, peering at you curiously. “I-Erm-Well” you stuttered, unsure of how to go about the whole situation.

“Y/N” he said softly, taking your hand in his as he finally opened both eyes. “Just tell me. It’s just me, darling.”

You wished you could just lie to that face, make up some flimsy excuse. But you were weak when he called you by that cute nickname that you didn’t know how to fib around him. So you told him the truth: how you were curious about his soulmate tattoo but you didn’t want to seem too intrusive.

“Oh? That’s it?” He made it sound so simple like no big deal. “I can show you if you want.” You sucked in your breath, not expecting him to take off his shirt. “It’s on my back” he explained. All you could do was nod your head, trying not to let your eyes roam too much.

Your heart pounded as anticipation built inside you. And when you looked for it, you sucked in your breath once more when you finally spotted his tattoo. Because it was the same as yours.

You fell to your knees, overwhelmed as you came to the realization that he was your soulmate. It was what you always wanted, to be connected with someone as amazing as Tom. No, you didn’t want someone like Tom but the actual Tom because you knew no one else would compare. And now you knew the truth: you were and had always been connected with him.

“It’s not that pretty, I know-” Tom nervously started. Obviously he didn’t like the design either. Maybe the two of you would laugh about that later, how this simple illustration that neither of you preferred still had its charm since it brought you together.

“N-No” you tried to stop him to explain what you now knew.

“I mean, obviously it’s not as cool as some others.”

“It’s not th-”

“Like I know-”

“Tom, I have the same tattoo.”

He stopped rambling, going silent at your reveal. For a brief second you worried that he wasn’t excited about this like you were. Maybe he preferred someone else. But a moment later you saw the way the corners of his mouth turned up slightly and his eyes sparkled.

“Can I see yours?” he requested softly.

Nervously you wriggled your shirt up so he could see it. You shivered feeling his fingers trace your skin.

“I was hoping it’d be you.”

And for the first moment in your life, you didn’t resent the tattoo. In fact you were thankful that it brought you to Tom.

Pushing your shirt down, you turned and took in Tom’s features once more. It was a different view this time, the two of you now sharing this extraordinary circumstance you waited your life for. He looked at you in a different light, the same gaze you were giving him.

“You’re my soulmate.” It was strange to say it out loud, but the words resonated with you. It felt like it was settling home.

“You’re my soulmate” he repeated, taking your hand squeezing it tight. He couldn’t help himself as he kissed your forehead before beaming at your flushed face, just ecstatic that you finally found one another.

tags list: @sleepybesson, @tomhaz, @sophiatomlinson23, @supernatural-girl97 | @almostrosadiazz, @tomshufflepuff