#(who will risk his own security TIME AND TIME AGAIN for house's benefit) become what it is

[marc--chilton]

hang on i'm once again thinking about house being stupid with love. stacy moved in with him a week after meeting him. that's HUGE change. could you imagine how much he'd have to be obsessing over her to make HIS home THEIR home??? and he still wasn't over her 5+ years later after everything either.

(and like. i wonder if there was ever a moment there for wilson where he's watching house and stacy be so witty and beautiful and in love together and thinking to himself, huh. so this is what that feels like.)

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Isabela Dias at Mother Jones:

Is the dream dead? And, if so, who killed it? On June 15, 2012, President Barack Obama stood in the Rose Garden of the White House to announce a massive change in immigration policy. For years, Congress had been unable to pass legislation to protect from deportation the so-called Dreamers, undocumented youth brought to the United States as children. In 2001, Sen. Dick Durbin (D-Ill.) and Sen. Orrin Hatch (R-Utah) first introduced a bill that would have granted them a path to citizenship. But, a decade later, the Dream Act had failed—again.

Obama declared that day he had taken matters into his own hands. His administration put forward an executive action to create a now-famous program: Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals (DACA). “These are young people who study in our schools, they play in our neighborhoods, they’re friends with our kids, they pledge allegiance to our flag,” Obama, facing pressure over his administration’s harsh immigration enforcement practices, said. (He had begun to be called a moniker that would stick: “deporter in chief.”) “They are Americans in their heart, in their minds, in every single way but one: on paper.” As such, they shouldn’t be expelled from the country or have to live under the “shadow of deportation.”

DACA went on to become a landmark achievement of the Obama presidency—lauded for its seamless logistical implementation led by Homeland Security Secretary Alejandro Mayorkas, then head of US Citizenship and Immigration Services (USCIS), and the economic benefits of authorizing eligible beneficiaries to work. Crucially, it gave a lifeline to more than 800,000 young immigrants raised and educated in the United States. DACA was “a temporary stopgap measure,” Obama had said. But its success, for a time, allowed the program’s original sin to be played down. The expectation, Mayorkas told the New York Times recently, “was that DACA would be a bridge to legislation.” Politicians could assume that change, albeit delayed, would likely someday materialize. Over the past quarter of a century, the issue of Dreamers has enjoyed broad bipartisan support in Congress. It has been included in virtually every immigration negotiation. And the stories of promising undocumented young people have been common on front pages and magazine covers—inspiring a rare kind of solidarity that transcended political divisions. (There was even a Broadway musical.) This year, all of that seemingly changed. 

The common-sense vision for a permanent solution for Dreamers has gone from a no-brainer to an afterthought. It used to be the case that legislative pushes for stricter border enforcement measures would not even merit consideration unless they were tied to relief for Dreamers (to say nothing of the millions of other long-time undocumented people often also included in proposals). Legislation could fail to pass, as it repeatedly did. But that signaling of support—even if in sentiment alone—made clear where Dreamers stood. Now, that tacit pact has been broken, and with little ceremony. In an effort to appease cries of “open borders,” Democrats and President Biden endorsed a controversial bipartisan Senate border deal that would have brought about one of the harshest overhauls of the immigration system in decades. Biden lauded the bill as the “toughest” in history. He also lamented that it didn’t include a pathway to citizenship for Dreamers. Still, he urged Congress to advance it. The border deal never saw the light of day. But it begged the question: When did standing up for DACA stop being “the right thing to do“? (Or a political necessity for Democrats.)

Adding to the disregard for Dreamers is the potential end of their life raft. DACA is more at-risk than ever, relegated to die a slow death in the courts where its legality and very existence is being litigated. As Congress and the public relentlessly debate immigration policy with a laser focus on the border, the fate of Dreamers and other undocumented immigrants living in the country has become a footnote.  “Congress used to care about the ‘Dreamers,'” the Washington Post editorial board wrote in January. “What happened?”

[...] The threat of DACA’s imminent demise is real. While in office, in 2017, former President Donald Trump rescinded the program, which then-Attorney General Jeff Sessions dismissed as “unilateral executive amnesty.” The US Supreme Court blocked the termination in a 5-4 decision ruling it was “capricious and arbitrary,” but left the underlying question of the program’s legality open. If given the opportunity, Trump would likely try to end DACA again. The Heritage Foundation’s Project 2025 playbook for the next conservative administration refers to it as an unlawful program. Stephen Miller, former White House senior adviser to Trump, previously called DACA “an erasure of immigration law” and his dark money-backed “lawfare” group opposed efforts to shield the initiative. “We already know what a Trump administration would do because we have had this experience,” Cecilia Muñoz, who served as director of the Domestic Policy Council under Obama and helped establish DACA, says. “You can expect DACA to shrink or disappear entirely.”

But these threats also elide the way the program is already quietly dying by a thousand cuts. A backlog of cases and months-long delays in processing applications means recipients risk losing their jobs. And short of an expansion, DACA as it currently exists will become obsolete. In order to qualify, applicants must have come to the United States before the age of 16 and have lived in the country since 2007. These requirements put the program out of reach for an entire new generation of Dreamers. “I have seen fewer and fewer DACA recipients in my classes,” Patler says. “My undergraduate students are now almost exclusively too young to have benefited from DACA, so they are facing the same barriers to pursuing higher education that undocumented students faced in the early 2000s.”  Even those who are eligible can still be excluded because of a court order blocking first-time applications. Judith Ortiz, 21, and her twin sister first applied for DACA in December 2020. A federal court ruling had just mandated that the Trump administration restore the program. Because the sisters, who came to the United States from Mexico at the age of two, share the same last name and birthday, their lawyer advised them to apply on different dates to avoid any confusion with the processing of their paperwork. Judith’s application was filed on December 23, 2020, one day after her twin sister. That one day would mean the difference between having legal status, however fraught, and remaining undocumented. 

In 2021, Judge Andrew Hanen of the District Court for the Southern District of Texas determined in a case brought by Republican attorney generals that DACA was unlawful because the Obama administration had failed to follow the formal rulemaking process. Hanen blocked new DACA applications from being considered. (He continued to allow renewals while the Biden administration revisited the program’s regulation.) The conservative Fifth Circuit upheld Hanen’s decision following an appeal by the Biden administration and sent it back to the district court judge, who ruled against the government’s attempt to strengthen and protect DACA. “While sympathetic to the predicament of DACA recipients and their families,” Hanen wrote in 2023, “this Court has expressed its concerns about the legality of the program for some time.” The case is now pending before the Fifth Circuit once more and could ultimately make its way to the Supreme Court.  When it comes to the courts, Muñoz sees a “worrisome corollary” in another Obama-era program, the Deferred Action for Parents of Americans and Lawful Permanent Residents (DAPA). Built on the same legal premise as DACA, that initiative would have offered temporary relief from deportation to undocumented parents of US citizens and permanent residents. In 2016, an equally divided Supreme Court affirmed a lower court’s ruling in the United States v. Texas case, which challenged DAPA and an expansion of DACA, and prevented the program from being implemented. 

Mother Jones has an informative article on the slow-motion death of both DACA and DAPA.

[smutsonian]

the mobster’s little girl

pairing: mob!steve rogers x reader

summary: what happens when the big bad mobster gets blackmailed by your father to marry you? (kind of fluffy kind of not. kinda dark kinda not.)

warnings: smut, violence, death, obsessive behavior kind of, poorly written smut (for real i skipped some), innocent reader (kind of?), lil bit of angst, drowning, accidents in the kitchen, reader getting burned, not proofread, a lot of mistakes for sure (It’s a long fic and im too lazy to find the mistakes), loss of virginity skskks, oral deed (f & m), fingering skksks, kind of a handie, please let me know if i skipped some, please read at your own risk, rumlow is a warning periodt, this has crack vibes i swear idk what i was typing at some point, ddlg? (is this ddlg? jesus fuck idek anymore), dub-con but like not really?, the POV gets fucked up towards the end so goodluck with understanding this piece of sheeet

word count: 11k (what da actual fuck? this is loooong)

a/n: df am i being awkward while writing them warnings for? Holy shit that’s a long list of warnings

big thanks to @buckys-forgotten-plum​ for helping me edit <3 luv u mwah

this is a combined request of a mob!steve x innocent!reader + steve teaching reader to suck his ding-a-ding-dong

this has a sucky ending. i hate the fucking ending. 

also, i don’t got no clue on how to do spacing on tumblr so im terribly sorry for that.

masterlist

Maybe it’s because they were terrified. Maybe it’s because they know what’s out there and what evil lurks in every corner of the city. Whatever the reason is, her parents hid her from the outside world. Never was she able to step another foot out of the gates of her home. No matter how huge the mansion her parents keep her in, it still feels small and lonely. Instead of the friends that she should’ve made in kindergarten, she became friends with her parents’ employees. Instead of the high school friends that she was supposed to have, she has the few cleaners in the house. She didn’t feel like they work for her because they’ve become her friends that keep her sane for being in one place for her whole life. Being able to go somewhere that’s not the garden, the gazebo, or even the lake that became her favorite place has always been in her mind but never her heart never really demanded to go out. She gets curious at times but it’s not enough to make her go against her parents’ number one rule.

 “Never let yourself be known and never talk to anyone outside this house. If possible, keep yourself away from the entrance gates.”

Being the obedient daughter you are, you followed that rule without question. You became the daughter that your parents wanted you to be. You learned everything from your tutor. The basics of economics but mostly proper etiquette. You didn’t know why you had to learn those but you did what your parents wanted you to do without question. You always do…

 That’s why when your parents told you that you were to marry, you agreed with a little bit of hesitance. “It’s for the best, princess.” Is the only thing that your father said while your mom looked at you with a small smile. You thought that it was going to be like the ones in the movies. You imagined a magical wedding but you didn’t even have one. You were told to sign some papers and just like that, you’re married to some man you don’t even know. A man that you didn’t see until a few days after the signing of papers.

  Steve never felt so disrespected in his entire life. He’s so used to being the powerful man of the city, the country even, that never did he expect some feeble man to come barreling into his business. The Y/L/Ns… He knew of them but he knew little about them. The family is so secretive but are known to be powerful. Nobody knows how they do it but now he has been graced to learn how.

Blackmail… Along with bribery. How fucking pathetic.

He didn’t know how the man managed to acquire his plans for a rival gang but somehow, the fucker did. The rival gang that he was trying to take down for so long and managed to make a plan of action until this fucker messed everything up. The bastard wanted to marry his daughter off to him for a powerful alliance. Saying something about how both of their names would benefit from the marriage. The bastard also promised a fat amount of money that he’ll receive once he marries his daughter. The bastard knew that money has always been a problem for him by the smug look on his face. 

“It’s simple. You provide us security, we give you money. We seal the deal once you sign the papers to be my daughter’s husband.” The old fucker says with such pride in his voice. Steve gritted his teeth before making a move to toss the man out but the fucker clicks his tongue at him. “Ahh, we also wouldn’t want Rumlow to know about your plans on attacking his turf a fortnight from now, do we?” The old fuck stares at him as he waits for his answer.

 Having no other choice, Steve says yes with flared nostrils. He glares at the way the man smiles giddily while walking towards the door. Before the old man could leave, he turned back towards Steve with a serious look before pointing a finger at him. “One more thing… My daughter will be your wife but you are not to touch her. You live at the mansion with her but you ain’t allowed to touch her. Do get out of her way as much as you can. You get all the money you want by following my orders. That easy. Nice dealing with you.” The man was out the door in an instant as Steve glared at the closed door before picking up a wine glass from his desk and throwing it against the door.

   “It’s a bit weird, mother.” Is your reply when your mother came to visit you in your room and asked you about how you’re feeling given your situation. She continues to brush your hair with her fingers as she hums in response.

 “It’s not like the ones in movies, that’s for sure.” You joke, earning a chuckle from your mother.

“My situation… It’s not really normal, correct?” You pull away from your mother’s hands and turn to look at her. She lets out a sigh before turning you back around and resuming to play with your hair. “No…” She says. “We might have been a bit strict with you but we only did it for your safety. The world out there… It’s not safe.” She continues. Once again, you pull away from your mother to fully give your attention to her. “But you and father are always out there. You put yourselves in danger on the daily so why can’t I?” You look at your mother who was looking at you with an unamused expression. You let out a sigh before sighing. “I know... I know. It sounds a bit silly to ask myself to be put in danger… But what about marrying me off to some stranger! You told me that father is bringing him here after he signed the papers. He’s to live here with all of us. Mother, we don’t even know him. Why would you let a stranger into our home?” You reason out, making exaggerated hand gestures to back yourself up. When your mother makes no effort to respond to you, you retort with a scoff and an eye roll. 

“You’re so hell-bent on keeping me inside this place, claiming that it’s to protect me that you failed to realize that you’re putting all of us in danger by letting an unknown man live with us. Seems kind of idiotic to me.” 

 *SLAP*

 You look at your mother with wide eyes as you hold your left cheek as it is stinging in pain. “I-I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. That was disrespectful of me. I’m sorry.” You scrambled to get away from your mother, ignoring her calls as you left your room to run down the long hallway and down the flight of circular stairs. You went out of the mansion and started running down a pathway towards the lake. You were so upset and focused on getting to your destination that you didn’t see a strange man coming out of a black SUV just as you walked out of the mansion.

 You ran down the wooden dock, frowning at what you had said to your mother. You couldn’t believe how you acted just now. First, you disrespect your mother. Now, you hide yourself away like a child that got reproved for the first time. You clicked your tongue in annoyance, an action that you got from your father, as you paced around the wooden dock. “Of course, they were just trying to protect you, you stupid idiot.” You hit your forehead with your palms over and over before tilting your head backward to stare at the sky, not caring at how your eyes hurt at the blinding sun. 

 You closed your eyes after a few seconds, sighing out as you figured that you should probably go back. Your so-called husband was supposed to arrive today. You start to walk back when your foot slipped and suddenly, water enveloped your body. 

 You fell into the lake.

 You would think that being locked up in a big mansion would give you a lot of time to learn how to swim but with your luck, no one ever thought you how so now you couldn’t do anything but drown.

 Your arms flopped around you as you kicked your legs all over the place just to get some air down your lungs but you only found yourself sinking further down. You couldn’t even scream for help because you know that if you did, you would only be swallowing a whole lot of water. 

 Before you could lose your breath entirely, something grasped your flailing hand. You would’ve screamed if you weren’t pulled out of the water. Turned out, it was a hand. Not some kind of creature from the fantasy movies you’ve watched.

 You were sitting on the wooden dock, gasping for air when the sound of an annoyed huff caught your attention. You tilt your head up to see a man looking down at you with an annoyed expression. Your brain started clicking and then it hit you. He must be your husband.

 “You’re here early.” You whisper, looking down. You weren’t sure how to act around him. Around your husband. You would base it on the movies you’ve watched but so far, those movies were nothing like your life. You were sure that if you tried to act like one of the characters there, you would look like a complete buffoon. 

 “So glad to know that I’m married to a dumbass.” He cuts your thoughts off with a sneer. 

 “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to fall and drown like that.” You remember the lessons you had. About not engaging in someone else’s hostility. You looked down in embarrassment. You’ve never been called something vile like that so you must’ve made him really upset. He scoffs before shaking his head and leaving you on the wooden floor as he walks away.

After that encounter with your so-called husband, you never really saw him again, even though the two of you were living in the same house. It was a few weeks after the drowning incident and you made sure to not tell anyone about it and you only hoped that Steve (you had to learn his name from your mother) didn’t tell anyone about it either. You and your mother are in good terms again and she’s currently in your room again, telling you how she and your father are to spend a few months in Prague to deal with a few business hiccups. You didn’t bother to ask if you could come with but you did bother to complain about them leaving. “You’re leaving me alone with a stranger under the same roof as me?” You exaggeratedly widened your eyes at your mother. “Oh, stop it. I’ve gotten to know Steve myself. I’m sure you’ll be safe with him. He seems like a nice guy. Although, I think your father gets a little bit on his nerves.” Your mother giggles to herself and you look at her with an amused grin. ���You’re closer to my husband than I am with him.” You joked which earned a sympathetic look from your mother.

 “Talk to him. He’s your husband after all.” She caresses your face. You hold her wrist as you push your cheeks towards her hold. “I’m pretty sure he hates me, mother. I have a feeling that he’s scrupulously avoiding me.” 

 “How about you bake him something, hmm? You’re wonderful at baking!” Your mother grins at your excited reaction to the mention of baking.

 “I do love to bake…” You hummed in thought before giving your mother a faux pointed look. “Alright, I will bake but only because I love to bake. So if he doesn’t want to socialize with me, then so be it. I wouldn’t care.” You huff proudly as your mother looked at you with a grin and a hint of playfulness in her eyes.

 “What is it?” You ask her.

 “Why do I get the feeling that you want to impress Steve?” She chuckles at your stunned expression.

 “You have completely lost your mind, mother. Haven’t you got a plane to catch? Go on. Say hello to Prague for me!” You push her out of your room, her laughing at your antics before placing a kiss on your forehead and leaving you to yourself.

  “Ooof!” You hissed as your finger touched the hot tray when you were pulling it out of the oven. You were making the third batch of cookies and somehow, you managed to burn your finger now. You quickly pulled the mittens off before putting the hot finger into your lips, as if sucking the pain away is possible. 

 You heard footsteps coming over and when you turned your head, you saw Steve looking at you with something you couldn’t comprehend. “H-hey.” You pulled your finger out of your mouth before hiding it behind your back like a kid. You tiptoed over the counter to reach the plate of cookies before walking over to him. “I made cookies. Would you… like to try some?” You moved the plate closer to his face but he only scowled at you before taking your right wrist and surveying your hand. He found the finger you were sucking on earlier and muttered something under his breath. You thought you heard him say ‘dumbass’ again like the last time.

 “Put cream on it.” He grumbled before leaving the kitchen. You glared at his back until he turned back around, making you wipe the glare out of your face before smiling bitterly at him. He walked towards you with a dark look until he was inches away from you. The position you two are currently in made you realize how tall he is. How he’s towering over you and how his biceps are poking out of his shirt. His crystal blue eyes are staring deep into your soul and you were almost hypnotized by it. You gulped in nervousness. You remember all the things you told your mother about this certain stranger that could possibly be a danger to you until he smirked and took the plate of cookies from the table before walking out once more, leaving you gaping at the door in confusion as your heart was beating faster than normal. From fear or something else, you do not know.

 ----

 Steve was deep in thought as he chewed on the cookies she made. It was really delicious and he hated that he liked it. He did his best to avoid the girl. He’s trying his best to avoid the girl. He did his best to hate the girl so things would be easier for him. He’s trying his best to hate the girl. He didn’t have time to babysit her. Her father is not someone he wanted to have ties with but he is. Steve didn’t want anything that has to do with that man and that includes her.

 But why is it so hard for him to keep her out of his mind?

 The first time he saw her, she had that cute little frown on her face but he found his heart skipping a beat at the sadness in her eyes. He knew he would regret following her but then he didn’t. He saw her as she fell down the dock and he didn’t know why he felt like his world stopped when he saw her gasping for air but it did. It took him his best efforts not to just dive into the lake to save her. Instead, he took her flailing hands and easily pulled her out of the waters. He wanted to keep her warm when he saw her shivering on the wooden floor but he suddenly remembered the deal. His worry was quickly converted into anger and annoyance so he managed to leave her alone, something heavy in his chest as he walked away from her.

 He hated the way she made him feel so he avoided her like a plague. Their home was big and avoiding her was really easy. It was stopping himself from going near her is the hard part. Her mother is the total opposite of her father. Her mother is a nice woman and living with the Y/L/Ns didn’t feel like a job other than her horrid father. Steve got to learn more about her through her mother. She talked about her so dearly. Steve felt his heart fall at the mention of her not leaving the mansion. It sounded like she was an animal caged in better surroundings. Steve realized why she acted so differently when he’s watching her. She seemed so… innocent. 

 Then he caught her baking cookies. It took him his best not to run towards her when he heard her hiss in pain. He watched as she tried to hide her injury from him. He didn’t know if he found it cute or annoying because she shouldn’t hide injuries from him. From anyone. If she was injured, she should get it to check as soon as possible. Then she offered him cookies. Steve swore that his heart leaped in adoration but he took the offered plate in front of him as a chance to check on her hand. He observed her fingers, internally flinching as he saw the burnt area on her index finger. “Such a clumsy little girl…” He muttered under his breath. Steve caught himself though. Why was he so worried about her? He quickly composed himself and dropped her hand. Before turning to leave. He heard her huff and he couldn’t help but to chuckle at that. He turned around to see her frowning at him only to have her eyes widened in surprise. She gave him a stubborn smile as he walked over to her, teasing her and testing her to see where her cuteness could go. Where her STUBBORNNESS could go. Did he really just say cute? 

 When he thought she had had enough, he smirked and took the plate of cookies before leaving.

 The plate of cookies that he’s currently munching on. 

 The more Steve thinks about it, the more he’s realizing that he couldn’t keep her out of his mind. It was impossible.

 The more he sees her, the more he wants to be with her. The more he sees her, the more he wants to protect her because it seems like she has a way of putting herself in danger.

 So innocent.

 So pure.

 He wanted her and he didn’t know if he could control himself anymore.

  A week has passed and things with your husband seemed to have gotten better, if one is optimistically speaking. 

 He no longer avoided you so that’s better than before. He doesn’t acknowledge you much though. He only speaks to you to correct your every move. Called you out when you were walking barefoot around the mansion, mocked you when you walked around the docks, and even demanded you to leave the kitchens alone because according to him, you don’t know how to properly use it.

 He only ever opened his mouth to speak his mind of his distaste towards you and you were starting to miss the times when he completely avoided you.

 But you ignored the insults and kept your head high up. You aren’t going to sulk. Especially not when someone’s clearly made it his goal to make you feel just that.

 That’s why you’re currently making pasta. Ignoring his demand and continuing on having adventures in the kitchen. You just finished making the sauce so now you just have to cook the pasta. You took a pot that was way bigger than your head and proceeded to fill it with water from the sink.

 You struggled to carry it over to the stove, letting out a relieved sigh once you managed to set it down. The problem though, the bottom of the pot somehow got stuck on the burner plate. You clicked your tongue in annoyance before grunting and attempting to pull on the heavy pot. It remained stuck so you exerted more effort, succeeding but managing to tilt the pot towards yourself. You let out a yelp as the cold water inside the pot spills all over you. 

 “Y/N!”

 You felt his hands before you heard his voice.

 ——

 Steve heard clanking noises from the kitchen and he just had to roll his eyes at the thought of her prancing around the kitchen. Didn’t he tell her to leave the kitchen alone? He’s just trying to stray her from the harm she could put herself in. Not that he would ever admit that out loud.

 He walked into the kitchen, just in time to see water spill over her from the boiling pot. His blood went cold as he felt his heart stopping. “Y/N!” He rushed over her knelt body, covered in water. He cautiously touched her face, being careful not to hurt her possibly burnt skin. Why can’t she just listen to him? He told her not to work in the kitchen for a reason. 

 As he touched her seemingly cold cheeks, he watched as she looked up at him with an innocent confused look. “Steve?” Her voice was so meek yet it made his ear start to ring as his heart started to beat back to life. She must’ve seen his frantic expression because her eyes widened in realization before she’s shaking her head and pointing at the fallen pot. “I haven’t boiled the water yet! See? I’m fine. I didn’t burn myself.” She had the audacity to smile cheekily at him and he didn’t know if he should be leaping in joy with her or reprimanding her for being so careless.

 Steve clicked his tongue at her, something that he must’ve picked up from her, before leaving the kitchen with a huff. Something that he’s been doing a lot whenever he’s with her.

 ——

 After he left, you took a seat on one of the chairs, recalling what just happened a few moments ago. He thought you were stupid enough to pour boiling water all over yourself. Does he really think you’re that stupid? He looked so worried though. You smiled at the thought of him possibly caring about you. 

 You let out a short squeak when you felt something falling at the top of your head. A towel. Steve wrapped it around you until your head was the only part exposed. “Whatcha grinning on about, little girl?” His voice was stern but there was a teasing tone in it. You looked up at him as he watched you. You shook your head before furrowing your eyebrows when he bought the pot towards the sink, filling it with water.

 “What are you doing?” Your voice is small as you asked him.

 “Can’t trust you with this. You might boil yourself the next time you even try.” He clicked his tongue before effortlessly bringing the pot to the stove and lighting it up. After that he walked back towards you and sat at the chair beside you, turning himself to stare back at you.

 “I thought I made it clear when I told you not to work in the kitchens?” He mockingly tilted his head before raising one eyebrow at you. You stared back at him, not knowing what to say so you just tilted your head down like a chided kid. 

 “Uh uh uh…” You felt his long fingers under your chin as he tilted your head back to face him. “What’s the matter? Did you manage to burn your tongue as well? Hmm?” You didn’t know why but the way he was talking to you is making you feel something unfamiliar in your stomach.

 When you didn’t answer, he put the hand that was on your chin to the side of your mouth, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. Your eyes fluttered when he managed to poke his thumb into your mouth and pressed it down your tongue gently.

 “Seems pretty alright for me…” He mumbles. You watched as his eyes widened in surprise when you sucked on his thumb absentmindedly. You realized what you were doing and stopped immediately. “No. No, don’t stop. Do it again.” He watched you with bright eyes as you hesitantly sucked on his thumb once more, feeling your body warming up at the current situation. 

 He slowly pulls his thumb out before rubbing it around your lips and leaning his face closer to yours. You could feel your heart panicking in fright or in excitement, you weren’t sure. You saw him close his eyes before he let out a sigh. He pulls away from you then ruffles the towel on your head. “Why don’t you go ahead and put dry clothes on? I think the pasta’s ready.” He grins before walking back toward the stove to start preparing the meal.

 You stumbled to your feet, mindlessly walking towards your room with a clouded mind.

 What was that all about?

  All Steve could ever think about was her. Her beautiful lips. Her eyes that glisten with innocence. Her nose twitches whenever she’s focused on something. The way she fits in his hold. The way she reacts under his touch. 

 He couldn’t forget about the way she sucked on his thumb unknowingly and the way her eyes became hooded from his touch. It’s obvious that she had no idea what was happening and what she was feeling and that only fueled his hunger more.

 The thought of her being hurt made him furious. It made him protective. He wants to protect her at all costs because not even the ends of her hair should get hurt. No. Not on his watch.

 Steve couldn’t take her out of her mind even if he wanted to. That’s the problem. He doesn’t want her out of his mind anymore. He doesn’t want to avoid her anymore.

 Steve accepted it. 

 He knows that he wants her and he knows that she’ll be able to have him wrapped around her precious little finger if she wants to. 

 He realized how she has a tight hold over him without even knowing it and he’s accepted that fact. 

 He’s ready to do everything for the girl and she doesn’t even know it. He’s ready to give her everything he has and everything he is. 

 He’s ready to give himself completely to her. Of course, it is if she’ll have him.

  After that encounter with Steve, you finally followed his instruction and stopped trying to make various meals in the kitchen. 

 You were craving cake so you asked one of the cooks to bake you a cake. That’s why there’s a whole cute pink cake in front of you at the kitchen counter. 

 You’re currently staring at it, thinking it’s too precious to destroy and eat but after a minute of your mouth watering, you give up and run your index finger on the sides until it is covered in icing.

 You licked your finger before sucking on it and humming at the sweet taste of the icing while your eyes are closed. When there is none left on your finger, you take your index and middle finger before sliding it on the sides of the cake to gather twice as much as the previous one.

 Your eyes are closed and lips parted slightly apart, ready to suck on your fingers one more time when a hand grips your wrist. Your eyes fly open to see Steve holding your hand while he’s looking down at your face with a boyish grin. Your eyes widened for the second time when his tongue darted out of his mouth and started licking the icing off your fingers.

 He was staring at you as he continued to lick the icing and you were starting to pull away when his lips parted wider to start sucking on your fingers. You’re frozen in shock as your eyes twitched at the sight of him sucking on your fingers. 

 You feel your heart drop when he starts groaning against your fingers. The unfamiliar feeling in your stomach made itself known again and you bit your bottom lip anxiously at the strange feelings you always get whenever Steve’s with you. 

 Your eyes follow Steve’s lips as he pulls your fingers out of his mouth with a silent pop. He looks at you with a smile before furrowing his brows. “Did you bake this?”

 “N-no! I had someone to bake it for me.” You’re quick to let him know that you didn’t make the cake. He smiled again and you just realize how giddy you feel when you’re able to make him smile like that. 

 “Really? So you finally listened to me?” He chuckles when he sees you nod shyly at him. “Aren’t you a good little girl.” He cooes before looking at the cake with a smirk. “This cake is really delicious…” He leans back to stand straight and you nodded at him in agreement. “I wonder…” 

 You let out a loud squeal when he suddenly puts his hands under your arms before pulling you up and sitting you down on the counter. You look at him with a stunned expression. “Wha—“ 

 “But I bet you taste better than this cake.” You couldn’t respond because he immediately connects his lips with yours, making your eyes pop out in shock as he continues to attack your mouth. You let out a small whimper when you feel his tongue pushing past your lips and roaming around the inside of your mouth, tickling the roof of your mouth.

 You start chuckling against his lips and he stops, looking at you in confusion. “You’re tickling me…” You point at the top of your mouth and Steve’s frown turned into a grin. His hand found their ways on the top of your knees and then he’s pushing them apart. “I know a place where I can tickle you... I’m sure you’ll like it.” He pulls you closer to him so you slide against the counter. He carefully pushes your shoulders until your back is laying on the cold kitchen counter. You feel him hiking your skirt up and pulling your underwear down before he sets your feet back on the counter, knees bent, and far apart. 

 You could feel him breathing against your skin and you could feel your body running hot while the hairs on your body stand in attention. You feel something wet run against your skin and you yelp as you sit on your elbows, looking at Steve alarmingly. His face was just in front of your core and tongue is just retreating your skin. 

 “Wh-what are you doing, Steve?” You bite your lip as you watch him stand up until he’s face to face with you. “I’m trying to make you feel good, baby. Do you trust me?” He presses his lips against yours and pulls away, waiting for your answer.

 “I don’t know…” You admit, stomach dropping at the sadness that flashes over his face.

 “Then let me show you that you can trust me. Can you let me do that?” He looks at you and smiles when you nod at him. He presses his lips on you once more, pushing you against the kiss until your back is back on the counter. He pulls away, pecking you one last time before going back to press kisses in between your legs.

 He licks up your skin, hands pressing down on your hips when you begin squirming around. You feel his mouth sucking on the bud before flicking his tongue over it. He doesn’t stop until you’re whining under him, unsure if you want him to stop or to do something else.

 “What do you want, little girl?” He breathes against your core, making your legs shiver at the sensation. 

 “I don’t know…” You whine, eyes staring at him as he stands over your body. He raises his right hand, fingers fluttering in display as he gives you a questioning look. “You want me to use this on you?” You could only nod in desperation because the feeling of emptiness when he pulled away from you is becoming too much.

 “Good girl.” You hear him whisper before going back in between your legs. You feel his fingers playing with your bud instead of his tongue and it feels overwhelming when he uses his tongue to press it against your entrance. 

 “Mmmhm” You close your eyes in delight as he continues to play with you. The familiar feeling in your abdomen makes itself known once again and this time, it’s stronger. You need more.

 “P-please…” You mutter under your breath, pulling on Steve’s hair to catch his attention. He looks at you with a proud smile before asking. “What is it? You need more? Want me to put my finger inside you, is that it?” 

 ——

 Steve smiles when she nods her head eagerly. So innocent, can’t even tell him what she wants. What she needs.

 He rubs on her clit a few more times to wet his fingers before lining a finger against her slit. He looks back at her as he starts pushing the finger in, slowing down when her hand grips her arm. 

 Steve groans at the tightness of her walls against his finger and starts to slowly pump it as he watches her face contort into a pleasured frown. When he feels her loosening up, he adds another finger that earns a low moan from her. Steve stiffens for a second when he feels his pants getting tighter in the crotch area. His cock is begging him for attention but he pays no mind, focusing on the angel in front of him.

 He spreads his fingers apart inside of her as he leans down to start flicking his tongue against her clit, smirking against it when her thighs shiver against his head. He feels her breaths starting to become uneven and he knows that she’s just about to cum so he doubles his effort, sucking her clit harshly and curling his fingers inside of her.

 Her back arches off the counter and Steve hooks an arm under her to pull her up and press her against his chest. She shakes against his hold as he helps her get through her high. She slumps against his hold, head falling down the side of his neck. 

 Steve tilts his head to look at her face, eyes hooded and forehead sweating. She looks so adorable like this. “That cake gave us such a rush, huh?” He chuckles before hooking her legs around his torso and hugging her body close to his. He feels her dozing off as he carries her to her bedroom. 

 He lays you down on the bed and tucks you under your blanket before studying your face. So peaceful. So relaxed. A smile forms on your face and Steve finds himself smiling as well.

 “Goodnight, my sweet little girl.” He presses a kiss on your forehead before walking out of your room. 

  It’s currently four in the afternoon and Steve is currently sitting on a couch in the massive living room, thinking about the night he has planned for him and his little girl. 

 After that time in the kitchen, things have been great with them. It’s been a few months and he became someone he didn’t know he could be and it was all for her. He wants nothing but the best for his girl. He gives her the ‘special treatment’ or ‘reward’ whenever she asks for it. She’ll do something nice for him to receive his special kisses but Steve knew that he’ll give her anything without her working for it. He just likes the attention he gets from her when she gets a little needy.

 Steve feels his crotch stirring under his pants at the thought of eating his little girl out. He always eats her out and makes her putty with his fingers but his cock remains abandoned. 

 He didn’t think she was ready. He didn’t want to scare his girl. He’ll wait as long as he needs until his little girl’s ready for him. For the time being, he’ll make sure to keep his little girl happy and satisfied.

 Steve’s thoughts were cut off when his little girl walked in front of him with a weird look on her face, a phone held against her right ear. He sits up in attention, his body becoming alert at the way her face scrunches up in fear as she looks at him.

 “What’s wrong, little girl?” His voice is a whisper but his tone is hard. 

 She looks at him with a frown before handing him the phone. He looks at it and listens to her as she speaks.

 “Father called… Which is weird because he never calls when they’re on a trip. Let alone a business trip. He told me that the trip would be a few months and I didn’t think they would be in some kind of situation after being gone for almost seven months… They’re usually gone longer than that. But then that guy—” She points at the phone in Steve’s hand before continuing her explanation.

 “—That guy took the phone away from my father when he’s explaining something to me about telling something to you, Steve. His name is Rumlow and he’s got a very foul mouth—” He watches as her nose scrunches up, probably at the memory of the man’s words on the phone but Steve didn’t care about that. He’s worried about Rumlow talking to you. Through your father’s phone at that!

 Steve presses the phone against his ear before asking who’s on the other line.

 “Ahh, Rogers… Where’s the little brat? I thought she’s enjoying the things I’m promising her. Told her about how my cock will make her cunt cry—” Steve feels his blood boiling at the way Rumlow is talking about his little girl.

 “What are you on about, Rumlow? What are you doing with that phone?” Steve cuts Rumlow off, voice so harsh that he sees her flinching at his tone. He smiles at her before ushering her back to her room.

 “You see… Your girl is supposed to be mine. I saw her first but imagine the surprise I got when I ask her dear daddy for her hand and he tells me that she’s married to a Steve fucking Rogers.” Steve hears Rumlow’s bitter laugh before hearing her little girl’s father groan in pain, no doubt that he took a blow from Rumlow.

 “I just want a simple deal here, Rogers. I’ll text the address and I expect to have the girl and a bag filled with… I don’t know, ten million dollars? If you’re too broke then just bring the girl. I’m sure she’ll make the lack of ten million with her pretty little cunt.” Rumlows cackle was heard along with the cries of your parents. He must’ve held them as hostages. 

 “Do that and her parents stay safe. Be here at 9 pm sharp or it’s bye-bye for her lovely parents. Tik-Tok, Rogers. Tik-Tok…” Steve almost crushes the phone into pieces in his hand when Rumlow hangs up on him. Rumlow holds your parents as hostages and dares to speak about you like that. He’ll fucking kill him.

 The phone buzzes and he sees the address Rumlow sent him. They were no longer in Prague. They’re back here...

 Steve makes a move to call his best man, Bucky, when he hears sounds coming from her room. He quickly runs over, throwing her door open to see her shoving a bunch dollar bills into a huge bag while a phone is pressed against her neck and her shoulder. 

 Steve’s heart falls at the sight of tears falling down her face. She must’ve heard everything with the connecting phone lines. He sighs before walking over to his girl and steadying her by holding her shoulders in a firm grip. “Everything will be alright. I’ll call someone to fix the problem. They’ll clear the building, catch the bad guy, and then your parents will be home in no time!” Steve gives her a smile but it doesn’t work. Her face is still wet with tears as she shakes her head in disagreement.

 “No! The b-bad guy will harm my parents if he sees your men without me! I don’t w-want anything bad happening to my family, Steve. I-I don’t want that!” He pulls her against his chest as he sobs and shakes against his hold. Steve runs a comforting hand on her back before sighing in defeat. 

 “Fine. We’ll save your parents but I have to call my friends for backup. And you have to stay as far away from the fighting. I’ll have my best guy, James, be with you the whole time. You can trust him, he’s my best friend. You need to stick with him because he’ll keep you safe, got it?” He gives her a firm yet gentle look, jaw clenching when she nodded eagerly at him before continuing to fill the bag with cash. 

 He makes his calls and in no time, they’re driving towards the address Rumlow sent him.

  Steve parks the car a few miles away from the building where her parents are being held as hostages. He looks at his little girl who’s currently wearing sweatpants and his hoodie which looks pretty big on her. He smiles at the sight before letting out a shaky breath. 

 “You gotta stay here, okay? I promise that I’ll get your parents out safely. You don’t have to worry about them because I’ll protect them for you, okay? You trust me, little girl?” He watches her as she reluctantly nods her head. He sighs at that before handing her a pistol gun. “You know how to use one?” He asks, surprised to see his little girl nod. She must’ve seen his surprised look because she looks down before explaining, “I had basic shooting lessons.”  He smiles at his little girl before nodding. 

 He gets out of the car before walking around and opening the door for his girl and helping her out. He sees James walking over to them and he nods at his friend in acknowledgment before looking back at his girl. “This is Bucky. He’ll keep you safe. Stick with him, alright?” He watches her girl as she observes his friend with her adorable curious eyes.  

 “The others are already surrounding the building. Backup is also ready. Just say something and they’ll attack. Good luck out there.” He smiles at Bucky’s words before kissing his girl’s forehead.

 “Please stay safe, Steve.” His girl mutters and he feels his heart skip a beat at that moment. “I will. Anything for you, little girl.” He turns to leave, hearing his girl one last time before disappearing. 

 “That’s a nice-looking vest, Mr. Bucky.”

  Everything was going well for Steve. Rumlow’s men are really weak and easy to take down and when Rumlow realized that, he ran. He ran away like the coward he is. He ran out of the building and that was that. At least, that’s what Steve thought. 

 He was able to see her parents and he quickly untied them, her mother thanking him endlessly while her father only grumbled his thanks once. 

 He was guiding the couple out of the building, surprised to see his little girl standing a few miles away from them with Bucky. He sees her eyes brighten in relief that made all his worries disappear. 

 He was walking with her parents when he heard the cocking of a gun beside his head. 

 “Not so fast.” A raspy voice speaks beside him.

 Rumlow…

 Before Steve could even move, a bang was heard. Followed by another bang that has his ears ringing in pain. He closes his eyes to ease the aching in his head or his body. Was he shot? 

 His eyes fly open when he remembers that his girl is also out in the open and his eyes quickly darts over towards her.

 To his surprise, his girl is holding the gun he gave her earlier in his direction. 

 Steve quickly scans the couple near him for injuries when he hears someone groaning below him. He finds Rumlow laying on his back, legs bleeding while his arms are spread out. 

 He looks back at his girl, a sense of pride filling his system. His girl just did that. 

 He watches as his girl runs towards him with her arms wide open, ready to envelop him in a hug. 

 Steve grins before he hears Rumlow muttering and everything seems to be moving in slow motion. 

 “If I can’t have her… Then nobody can!” Rumlow spits before a loud bang go out.

 Steve’s eyes grow wide when he sees the bullet piercing through his hoodie and into his girl’s chest. 

 His heart stops when he sees her falling down into Bucky’s arms and onto the cold ground. 

 Her mother’s cries filled Steve’s ringing ears as well as her father’s curses as he tried to console his wife.

 Steve quickly kicks the gun from Rumlow’s hand before kicking the bastard’s face repeatedly until he’s unconscious. He releases all his anger on the bastard who shot his little girl by bending down and throwing punches down the unconscious man. He keeps punching until he sees Bucky carrying his girl towards them. 

 He pulls back from a bleeding Rumlow before running towards Bucky and taking his girl from his best friend. He brushes some stray hair away from her forehead before observing her face. 

 “Call the fucking ambulance!” He barks at nobody but Bucky follows his order, quickly fumbling with his phone and calling their mob doctor. 

 Steve was about to rip his hoodie off his girl when her eyes suddenly flew open, gasping for air. 

 Steve’s heart stops for a second, he doesn’t know if it’s from shock or relief but he’s grateful to see his little girl alive and breathing. He feels her wrap her arms around his neck, burying her face on the side of his neck as she catches her breath. He wraps his arm around her shaking body, gripping her tight and pulling her body against his like he’s afraid that she’ll slip away from his grasp.

 “Mother. Father. I’m so glad you’re okay!” He hears his girl talking to her parents who are currently behind him. He should let her go to reunite with her parents but he doesn’t. He keeps her against his body. 

 “Are you okay, dear?” Her mother asks and he feels his girl nodding against his neck. His girl finally pulls away from him before tugging on the hoodie she’s wearing and pulling it up to reveal a bulletproof vest. 

 Bucky’s laughter fills the air and everyone turns to look at him. “You little genius!” He exclaims before pointing at his little girl. “She kept bothering me about my vest and didn’t stop until I gave her one! Ah... You got yourself a keeper and a smartass, Steve!” He continues to laugh, her parents soon follow Bucky until everyone is laughing as well. 

 Everyone’s laughter is cut off by Rumlow waking up before gasping for air just like you were a few moments ago. 

 He pulls his girl against his chest, blocking her view from Bucky who gets his gun out before pointing it towards Rumlow’s head. 

 Steve covers his girl’s ears before another bang goes out. The last one for the night.

  “I’m really fine, Steve. Dr. Banner said I was fine! No scars and all, see?” You pull your hoodie up to assure him. You watch him stare at your skin, probably looking for scars before he forces your hoodie down with a frown as he bites his lip. 

 “You can’t just pull your shirt up like that. People might see.” His hushed and commanding voice makes you gulp and nod apologetically. 

 You look around as he walks the both of you towards the lake. “But there’s nobody around, Steve.” You whisper, looking down at the dirt as you walk with him. 

 You feel his warm fingers under your chin before your head is tilted up so you’re looking directly up at him. “You really are a smartass, huh?” He smirks, feeling your body warm up against his hold before throwing his arm around your shoulders to continue walking.

 Steve holds you close as the both of you walk down the dock under the darkness of the night. He stops just at the end of the dock before turning to face you. 

 You admire his face, looking so enchanting under the light of the moonlight. “You remember the first time we met?” He asks, grinning at your embarrassed reaction which is you chewing your bottom lip. He caresses your face before running his thumb across your lips, stopping your teeth’s attacks on your lips.

 “How you’re taught to shoot a gun but not how to swim will always be a mystery.” He chuckles, smiling down at you and you watch him as he does just that. He’s just so pretty to look at.

 “You really scared me tonight, little girl…” His sad tone made your eyebrows shoot up in worry. “I-I didn’t mean to, Steve! I’m so sorry.” You frown at yourself but he brushes his fingers on the wrinkles you made between your eyebrows which makes you relax just a bit.

 “I was supposed to be the one protecting you. Not the other way around.” He lets out a sigh before looking at the water. “But thank you. Thank you for doing that. And for trusting me. I know you were a little hesitant with trusting me but you still did. So thank you for that. It means a lot.” Steve looks back at you and smiles. You feel your heart fluttering at his smile but it also breaks at his words. You wanted to tell him that he’s wrong but you are cut off by a bunch of lights.

 You gasp at the lights that start to flicker all around you. You do a slow full 360, looking at the trees that are covered with fairy lights, the side of the docks are covered with lights as well, and the darkness is soon replaced by a whole bunch of lights. Your heart starts to jump when you hear slow music playing in the background and it feels like every time you do a full 360 turn, something new presents itself. 

 Everything seems so magical, so pretty and so… Something straight out of the fairytale movies that you watch. 

 You turn to face Steve again only to find him gone. You frown before looking down to see him down on one knee, a red velvet box in his hand which he holds towards you.

 You feel yourself grinning with so much joy running through your system and you can’t help but to let out a squeal when the velvet box opens to reveal a very pretty diamond ring. 

 “Little girl… Will you make me the happiest man alive by marrying me?” He asks, uncharacteristically shy which makes you giggle. You start giggling more which makes Steve lick his lips as his eyes flash his nervousness. 

 “Steve, you’re so dumb.” You mumble through giggles. 

 “Huh?” Steve slowly stands up, looking at you with sad eyes.

 “We’re already married! We both signed the papers!” You point out the obvious, stopping your giggle fit before kissing him on the lips.

 “Don’t be sad, Steve… I accept your proposal… Even though we’re already married.” You giggle once more before letting him put the ring on you.

 He guides you until the both of you are sitting on the edge of the dock, feet dangling down the water.

 “I just wanted you to have a normal yet magical experience even just for a moment,” Steve whispers after a few minutes of silence.

 “That’s kind of useless.” You automatically say.

 “What? Why?” Steve feels his heart fall at your words. Is he doing this whole thing wrong?

 “I already feel like that whenever I’m with you.” You state, looking at him like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

 Steve feels his heart beat an extra mile but he also feels relieved that he’s indeed doing it right. 

 You grin at the sight of Steve blushing in front of you. You never thought that the man who was so hard on you the first time you met was going to be a blushing mess in front of you right now.

 “Hey, Steve?” Your voice cuts the thin air and he looks at you with a raised eyebrow. “Yeah?”

 “You know how I saved your life earlier…” Steve smiles at your bashful expression that he finds so adorable.

 “Mhmm…” He nonchalantly hums.

 “Well… I was thinking…” You bite your lip in nervousness and embarrassment at the question you’re about to ask him.

 “What is it, little girl?” His voice is matched with a chuckle as he gives you a grin.

 “Can I have a reward for that?” You blurt out.

 Steve feels his cock stir in his pants at her words. He bites his lip before standing up and helping her up as well.

 “I’ll give you everything you want, little girl. It doesn’t have to be a reward. You ask for it, you get it, is that clear?” He gives you a questioning look before smiling when you nod eagerly at him.

 “Now, what is it that you want as a reward?” 

 ————-

He trails kisses from your forehead to your nose, nose to your cheeks, cheeks to your neck. He purposely skips your lips with a grin and starts feasting on your neck. He licks and sucks on a spot he knows too well, earning an adorable squeak from you when he teasingly bites on the skin. “S-Steve!” You gasp, hands going straight to his head, fingers sliding through his soft hair. He continues nipping on your neck until your head tilts back and a quiet moan escapes your lips.

 He pulls away to look at you and then smirks.

 “You want me to give you those special kisses for your rewards?” He cocks a brow before smiling when you nod your head eagerly at him. “Y-yes please.” 

 Steve wastes no time to pleasure you. His little girl.

 He dives for your glistening core and groans in pleasure at your taste. He uses his tongue to stimulate you through your clit, enjoying the way your body shakes under his hold.

 Steve listens to your moans and whimpers like a song and uses it as motivation to keep you a writhing mess under him. “Please, S-Stevie…” He hears you cry under him, reaching your hands towards his hands and pulling it closer to his face as he tongues your clit. 

 Steve chuckles at your needy behavior but complies, not missing the nickname leaving your lips. Anything for his little girl.

 Steve easily enters a finger into your wet core, groaning at your warmness and wetness before adding another finger. He sees your face contorting into a mix of pleasure and pain. Steve leans down to kiss your clit and flicks his tongue faster to distract you from the pain.

 “A-aah” He watches your eyes rolling back when he begins to spread his fingers inside you. Another finger enters and you’re crumbling against his fingers, walls closing around his fingers as you cum undone under him. He pulls away from you before reaching for your face and kissing you hungrily. He smiles against the kiss when he feels you return the kiss with the same hunger.

 He feels you pulling away and he lets you, frowning a little when he sees you looking at him timidly. His hand carefully reaches for your face, knuckles gliding down for cheeks smoothly. “What is it, little girl?” 

 He watches you bite your lip before looking at him with half-lidded eyes. “I w-want to give you special kisses too…” Steve freezes as he feels his cock getting harder than before. He feels your hands reaching for his member, giving him a look before gulping. “C-can you teach me? I want to make you feel good too…” 

 Steve doesn’t know which is beating harder; his cock or his heart, maybe both… Probably both. You do that to him. Only you. His little girl. 

 Steve finds himself gulping as well. “You don’t have to, litt—” 

 “I want to!” You’re quick to cut him off. Almost eager, he notices. He lets out a nervous laugh before nodding. “Okay, okay… I’ll teach you.” He doesn’t miss the way your eyes light up from his approval. He smiles at you before guiding your hands that’s currently holding his hard member.

 “Just do this gently…” He guides your hands up and down his shaft, head going crazy at the sight of your hands not being able to cover his huge cock. He bites his lip, willing himself to hold on and not cum on your hands so early.

 “C-can I kiss it now?” He looks down at you, sitting on the mattress as your innocent eyes look up at him while he stands on the ground. “Go ahead, little girl. Try it.” He encourages you, smiling when you press a quick kiss on his tip. His jaw clenches when you press another kiss, longer this time. 

 Steve’s eyes flutter when he feels your tongue dancing around his tip. You begin to lick along the shaft and then under, making Steve groan wantonly. 

 Steve lets out a frustrated huff when you quickly pull away from him. “I-I’m sorry. I was just doing what you did to me. I-I didn’t mean to hurt you!” Your eyes are teary and Steve realized that his moans made you think that you hurt him.

 He sighs before leaning down to your face, giving you an assuring smile before kissing your nose. “You didn’t do anything wrong, little girl. You’re doing everything right. In fact, you’re doing so great that my friend down there couldn’t help but to go wild under your touch.” He points at his member before grinning at your widened eyes.

 “I’m going to guide you. There’s no reason to be afraid. If you want to stop, just tap me and we will stop. We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, okay?” He waits for your response and lets out a breath of relief when you nod.

 He stands back up, putting your hands on his behind and guiding your face just in front of his cock. “Open wide, little girl.” He sings and grins when you do as told. He holds the back of your head but never pushes you, leaving you to go at your own pace.

 You push yourself forward, taking him halfway before pulling back and pushing yourself back to him. His moans of pleasure push you to do more so you do. You swirl your tongue on his tip as you bob your head, smiling at the loud moan that leaves his lips. 

 “You little tease…” He breathes out, his grip on your head getting tighter but not enough to hurt you. He feels the vibration of your laughter on his cock and he lets out another cry of pleasure.

 Feeling confident with yourself, you push yourself forward until his tip hits the back of your throat, making you gag.

 He helps you as you pull away from him, looking down at you with his flushed face. He studies your face, eyes shadowed with lust, making his heart do somersaults. He wipes the tears on your face before saying, “Breathe through your nose, okay?” He watches you nod and chuckles when you go back for his cock, taking him deep at a slow pace and staying there for a second before pulling slightly away. “That’s my good girl…” He moans as you continue to take him, teasing his tip with your tongue when he suddenly pulls you away from him.

 “Did I—” He cuts you off with a kiss, groaning against your lips and pushing you until you’re lying on your back with him on top of you. “You did great. I just want my cum somewhere else…” He catches your lips when you bite on them, his tongue pushing its way into your mouth.

 He pulls away, guiding your body until he’s kneeling between your thighs, one hand on his cock while the other is on your thigh. “Is this okay?” He asks when he places the tip of his cock on your slit.

 You gingerly nod, whimpering when he slides his cock on your sensitive clit. “P-please…” You have no idea what you’re begging for but he seems to know what he’s doing. 

 “Do you trust me, little girl?” Steve asks, looking at your face with hopeful eyes.

 “Yes, Stevie. I trust you.” Steve’s heart warms up at how fast you answered his question. He nods before sliding a few more teasing thrusts into your folds and clit before slowly sliding his tip into your slit. He stops to look at your face that’s contorted into a frown. He leans down your face to kiss your frown away and kisses your lips as well, hoping to distract you from the pain. 

 Steve pushes his cock deeper when he feels you relax under him. He pushes slowly and stops when he’s fully in, groaning when your walls hug his member tightly. “Fuck!” He hisses before looking at you. “You okay?” He asks, smiling when you nod at him, eyes closed. He kisses your lips before pulling halfway and thrusting into you once more, earning a little whimper from you.

 “How are you feeling, baby?” You try to ignore the nickname, opening your eyes and looking straight at his eyes. “G-good. Please move, Stevie.” You press your palms against his chest. He pulls halfway out before shoving himself inside you again, repeating this action until you’re moaning loudly under him and clutching his biceps for support.

 Steve feels your walls fluttering around him, alarming him that you’re close. He knows he’s close as well so he helps you reach your peak by rubbing your clit with his fingers, groaning at how your walls tighten around him.

 Steve listens to your cries of pleasure as your walls clamp down on his cock as you cum, making him cum as well and milking him. Your body shakes under him and both of you breathe heavily as you try to catch your breath. He falls to your side, his arms enveloping around you to pull you against his chest into a warm and strong embrace.  

 “It’s official. We just consummated our marriage... I’m all yours just as much as you’re all mine.” He stares at your face, watching your eyes as you fight yourself from falling asleep.

 “I fucking love you, little girl.” He lazily says, brushing your face with his fingers. You stare at him sleepily, listening to the beat of his heart.

  “The fuck is he doing?” Your father grumbles as he watches Steve prance around the kitchen.

 “He’s making our daughter breakfast. I think our daughter broke him.” Your mother snickers at the way your father looks at Steve in disbelief. 

 “You tellin’ me that he touched Y/N?!” Your father fumes, getting ready to walk up to the man in the kitchen before your mother stops him.

 “Oh, hunny. Would you stop that? They’re married. And Y/N is an adult. They both are. They can do anything they want. And I can see that Steve really loves our daughter. The way he acted after Y/N got shot. Not to mention the part where he literally saved our asses. Your ass.” Your mother berates your father who just huffs in response before leaving. Your mother chuckles before following her husband, ready to give him a piece of her mind.

  “You made cookies without me?” Steve’s heart flutters as you pout at him. “I want to make cookies too…” You mumble under your breath. You just woke up from your sleep when Steve entered the room with a plate full of cookies.

 “I didn’t want you getting into any accidents, little girl.” Steve chuckles when you take one cookie before grumpily munching on it. He watches as your eyes light up before covering it up with a frown. “Will you stop calling me little girl?”

 “Never.” He simply says. You huff and Steve couldn’t help but to chuckle at your cuteness.

 “Your cookies aren't even that good. I make better cookies.” You mumble before taking another cookie from the plate and munching on it. Steve raises an eyebrow at you before shaking his head. “I know you do, little girl. I know you do.” He smiles at you before making a move to sit beside you. 

 “No! Wait! Stay there.” You point a finger at him before fumbling around the sheets as if looking for something. 

 “You okay?” Steve asks, eyes shooting open when you jump out of the bed to stand in front of him, only the sheets covering your body. You realize this and quickly pull on the hoodie from last night before looking back at Steve with a grin.

 “Hi,” You start, earning a confused look from Steve. “Hello?” He chuckles when you look at him with so much excitement that you’re literally bouncing on your toes.

 “I want to give you something.” 

 “What is it?” Steve watches your fist as you hold it against his face before opening it, revealing a gold ring that looks to be vintage or a hundred years old.

 “Where’d that come from, little girl?” Steve whispers.

 “Can I put it on you? Will you marry me too?” You ignore his question, too excited to listen to anything. Steve laughs before nodding, watching you with adoration as you giddily put the ring on him. 

 “There! So pretty! You’re so pretty, Stevie!” You continue to admire the ring on his finger when he takes your chin with said hand, making you look up at him. 

 “Thank you, little girl.” He leans down to press a kiss on your lips before pulling away with a smile.

 “My father gave it to me.” You blurt out, making Steve’s eye widen just a bit. 

 “Your father?” He asks, not sure about what’s happening.

 “Yes. He came here earlier. Told me that you deserve the ring and that you should never make him regret anything?” Steve listens to you, you obviously don’t know what your father did but it’s enough for Steve to understand.

 “Oh… And Stevie?” He looks at you, smiling and asking you if you need something.

 “I love you too.” You grin at him.

 Steve stares at you for a moment before feeling tears sliding down his cheeks.

��He makes a quick move towards you, pulling you in a tight embrace and pampering your face with kisses.

 “I love you, little girl. Thank you for saying it back.” He mumbles against your hair before pressing a kiss on your lips once more.

 “Stop calling me little girl!” You grumble against him.

 He only chuckles at you before shaking his head. “No. You’ll always be my little girl.”

 ----

a/n: omfg if you finished all that, congratulations you just wasted a whole lot of ur time but thanks for wasting it on me 3;-)

[ares-would-be-proud]

Izzy said: Fairy! Im so excited for your dark content!! Since i saw it on your other blog, may i request for yandere bertholdt 👀 i feel the would make the most unsuspecting but worst (or best?) Yandere next to armin because he's so gentle and unassuming and shy, no one would ever think he has other intentions

Yandere Bertolt pt.I

{ Bertolt x reader | tw:yandere, tw:toxic-behaviour, tw:near-death experince, tw:murder mystery? Eh kinda, tw:manipulation tw:Emotional-rollercoster | Dark romance, fluff, slowburn, lowkey funny ngl | Canonverse }

{ "Roses" 1878 by George Cochran Lambdin 1830–1896 }

Securing the last belt around your thighs before attaching it to the one near your knees, you made sure to tighten it as much as you can before sliding it in the metal head.

Having the equipment room all to yourself, you took your time in double-checking everything was in place. Making sure your gas tanks were filled, carrying spare steel blades and tightening your boot strings.

The manoeuvring gear's parts made a clinking sound against each other with every step you took. Making your way to the nearby woods acting as the training ground, the sun shining made you shield your eyes with your hands, taking some seconds to adjust to the brightness.

The road was clear, with almost no birds or squirrels in sight.

It was one of those days when the wind seemed so fast as it swept by you, so much in fact that you could visibly see the few clouds swimming by as if they're racing each other. A perfect day to spend near a lake maybe, or in a field of flowers, but you had to spend it training in the woods with the other soldiers till your fingers ached from pressing against the handgrips.

You wanted to get it over with, feeling nauseous. Probably because you managed to oversleep and miss breakfast.

It started as normally as any other training session went, pushing through till your autopilot took over. While fun at first, there's so much manoeuvring between tree branches to slash at 2d wooden cutout of titans you could do before it started getting repetitive.

And so you let your body take over and move on its own, taking you further and further towards the edge of the forest till you couldn't hear the sound of anyone else's manoeuvring gear except your own.

The high wind rustling the trees making the leaves fall distorted your visions as they fell on you, and the flashing sunlight that swept through the small openings between the leaves only made things worse.

Blinding you for split seconds, too bright in fact, that you had to close your eyes shut as it burned after the light fell directly against it.

It's only after a couple of seconds late, that the sound of something snapping registered in your brain.

You were slowly turning in the air, strong wind resistance coming from below as gravity pulled you down.

Things were moving too quickly to process, dread shot through your entire body in shivers, you could feel your heartbeat in the back of your throat as you came closer and closer to the ground.

No matter how many times your clammy hands attempted to work the pistol-shot, no hooks attached to the nearby trees despite the gears working as you heard its zipping noise.

The realisation of the situation you're in finally settled, you couldn't do a single thing, but watch the trees grow larger and larger by the second as you fell to your doom.

You've survived many expeditions and missions, you've escaped Titans teeth that were mere inches from biting your head off, and this is what will put you seven feet below? A mere fall?

...no, it wasn't just a fall, it was arrogance for taking it for granted. After all, overconfidence was a slow and insidious killer, sneaking on the second you let your guard down.

But was it?

A flash of today's morning comes before your eyes, your brain recalling the unusual spot your manoeuvring gear was placed, you were too sleepy to notice it at the time but now it's the only thing on your mind, did someone-

Before you could hit the ground, the familiar sound of pressured gas fizzling out followed by the clinking of metal swishing by.

One second you were almost slamming into the hard ground, the next you were caught by someone mid-flight.

Bertolt tightly pressed you against his chest with one arm, securing you in place while his other used his gear to reach the nearest tree branch.

Your hands wrapped around him, securing yourself even more. He didn't flinch when your nails accidentally scratched his neck from how hard you were holding him.

Despite how close you were to his chest, your own hammering heartbeat was the only sound you could hear for it was stuck in your throat as the adrenaline pumped through your veins.

You hesitantly let go the second your feet touched the ground, although still shaking you managed to find your balance again, yet, Bertolt's hand didn't leave your back.

You looked below at the wires dangling from your gear, their end visibly thinner than the rest of it. It still didn't register how a wire made out of iron could snap so easily…

Your thoughts were interrupted by the hand reluctantly turning your face back up, Bertolt's nervous eyes meeting yours.

"Don't look down too much, you'll get dizzy" he said, concern clear in his voice before stepping closer to you, his large body tucking you between him and the tree behind, as if you might slip away "are you okay? Did you get injured?"

A bit taken back by his dotting, you shook your head before thanking him for not letting you fall.

"Don't mention it please...it's nothing, really." That seemed to make the corner of his lips rise a bite, slight flushing to his ears. "Maybe you should get some rest, you didn't seem well back there."

Was he watching?

The thought disappeared from your mind as quickly as it came, the guy saved you from a head injury after all, the least you could do is give him the benefit of the doubt.

Not to mention, it was Bertolt. Has it been any other guy, Reiner or Jean for example, then your attitude towards this whole thing would've been completely different. Putting as much space as you can between the two of you after brushing off their hands.

Has it been any other guy...but it wasn't now, was it?

No. It was Bertolt, soft-spoken and easily flustered Bertolt, who got nervous in most situations and didn't reply to teasing.

Bertolt, who didn't say a thing when Eren stole his seat next to Reiner, instead settled to sit next elsewhere.

Bertolt, who always remained humble and downplayed his skills despite ranking in the top five and becoming a really valuable soldier.

Bertolt, who you've only ever said hi to before once before he seemed to panic and just awkwardly wave back instead.

Maybe that's why you didn't mind him being so close, he wasn't a threat and most everyone knew that. If you asked people to rank the top three men they'd feel safe in a room with, Bertolt would almost make it to everyone's top two.

And so when he offered to walk you back to your room, it didn't raise any red flags despite it meaning you'd be alone with him in the dorms while everyone was training.

-

The short walk went fairly nice actually, he kept a respectful space between you while making sure to walk at a slower pace so his height wouldn't force you to jog.

From the sweat collecting at his forehead and his hands fidgeting with the hem of his shirt he seemed to struggle to find a good conversation starter.

You could read him like an open book, it was quite endearing the way he commented over how nice the weather is, four times in a row while stumbling over his words. But you weren't that cruel and so you decided to grant him mercy, starting a topic yourself.

Talking about your interest, hobbies and things you'd do whenever those rare moments of peace and normalcy would arrive.

He shared his too, apparently, he's into journaling, finding it much easier to write his thoughts on paper than out loud.

One conversation pulled another, as he seemed to grow more comfortable the more you talked.

Although, he wouldn't meet your eyes for more than 5 seconds before turning his gaze away, yet you could feel them staring at you the second you turn your head.

Somewhere between your conversation, the subject switched to talking about life. Bertolt asked you if this is the kind of life you've wanted, words unusually firm that it made you pause.

The question was out of place, a huge switch from your previous fun topics.

Nonetheless, you answered, "I don't think anyone would willingly choose this life. It's more of...doing the most out of the cards you've been dealt, this just happened to be mine."

The sound of his footsteps stopped, you looked at his face, he didn't look away.

"Would you rather have a more normal life?"

The way he stood, his back to the sun with you in his shadow, an unreadable expression on his face, really brought out his height and large build that you've almost forgotten.

you unconsciously took a step back, he took a step forward.

"If by normal you mean a non-starving one where I'm not at the risk of being eaten daily, then yeah." You answered, time felt like it slowed down. The seconds stretched for too long as you watched his reaction.

He...smiled, a sincere smile, the kind that makes your eyes shine. Soft expression seemingly relieved as he continued walking, a slight bounce to his steps.

"I'd love that too, to have a normal life one day."

And then he proceeded to tell you about his dream, the normal life of peacefulness he seeks. Sharing as many details as time would allow, from the kind of person he wants to grow up to be, to the colour he wants to paint the house backyard's fence.

It was lavender.

When he mentioned wanting a dog, you couldn't decide what was funnier, the mental image of Bertolt with an equally almost as big kind of dog, or a small tiny breed that would fit in his hands. Taking him for walks and playing catch as the dog tackles him to the ground.

Some chuckles escaped your lips, and while Bertolt didn't know what you were smiling about, nonetheless he joined too.

-

Your time together was cut short when the dorms came into view. Feeling both relief for finally being able to rest and disappointment for having to end your conversation so soon, especially since you think this is the first actual talk you had with him besides saying hi before.

Bertolt, looking out for you, made sure to hold the door to your room open for you. Some part of your brain wondered how exactly he managed to guess which room was yours, the other simply couldn't wait to get into bed.

You sat on the bed, Bertolt invited himself in and closed the door behind him.

He took his time looking around your shared room with his eyes, staring at the titles of the books splayed on the table, taking in the smell of scented incense your roommate bought every month, the doodles, drawings and notes hanging by mere tape against the wall.

Finally, eyes landing on the top bunk bed, currently empty with your roommate having left too early in the morning for the preparations of their next expedition.

Well...after all you were too used to waking up by the sound of them opening and closing all the drawers in search of their glasses that they manage to lose each day, yet yesterday they made sure to sleep next to it.

Huh, maybe that's why you overslept.

Yet, Bertolt's eyes didn't move as he stared seconds too long, shoulders growing stiff and palms tightening against his side.

"They left for an expedition, a titan capturing one... I think." You explained, "it's supposed to last three days, but since it's led by Captain Hange...I wouldn't be too surprised if they still haven't left yet."

"Must be nice, having the room for yourself."

You agreed before adding "well, it still gets too lonely sometimes."

Bertolt looked like he wanted to say something, lips parting for a second before he pressed them close into a thin line.

An awkward silence filled the room, as you looked at Bertolt who seemed to revert back to his old nervousness.

"I think I should go, Reiner must be looking for me."

You thanked him again for his help, he avoided your eyes before mumbling a reply, saying it's really nothing.

Did you do something wrong? You couldn't help but think that, after all things were going so well just now. Why would he get on edge again?

As a final attempt to redeem yourself from whatever unknown act you must've committed for Bertolt to act this uncomfortable, you called out to him one last time.

"Hey, Bertolt. I know we technically just met but, just know you can drop by anytime okay? You seem like a nice person and we can be friends."

Oh god did you really say, we can be friends, what is this kindergarten again? Welp you fucked up, looks like it's another failure to add to the calendar, man and you've been keeping such a clean track of days without accidents.

You know what? No, forget it, you tried your best and you had good intentions so why should you ever feel guilty for-

"You really mean that?" Bertolt, whom

You've become aware was still in the room, said.

Not sure how to reply to this, you just gave a nod instead.

"I'd love that." He spoke with a soft tone. And despite his growing desire to move closer to you, he opened the door instead, sparing you one last sweet smile before he left.

And for a good minute there, his smiling face was all that occupied your mind, a fluttering feeling that came and went too quickly for you to acknowledge.

-

True to your predictions, the mission was apparently delayed till midnight for...undisclosed reasons. Although gossip spread faster than wildfire, and by dinner time everyone was talking about the argument Captain Hange and Captain Levi got into, the story got modified and exaggerated each time it was passed around.

"Listen, I was there and I saw it! Well...not with my own eyes but it doesn't matter." Your roommate said, too eager to spill you everything that they almost forgot to eat their food. "It was big, like Captain Miche having to restrain Levi kind of big!"

You gave them a silent look, raising an eyebrow.

"...okay jeez it didn't get this far but it felt like it did, like it almost happened." They poked their food with the fork, before deciding to try some.

Their pouting face almost made you want to tease them even more, just to see what corner you can back them into before they confess to making up half the story they've been telling you.

But a wrenching gut feeling suddenly shot through your body, coming almost out of nowhere, the kind you'd usually feel whenever a titan was targeting you.

Confusion was naturally your first response, there couldn't be any titans nearby. You swallowed down, no don't be silly, it doesn't even make sense.

Maybe...maybe it was one of those cases you studied in class? About people getting PTSD flashbacks at random times, or from small triggers?

The air seemed too cold and too hot at the same time, you forced your eyes to move around the room in an attempt to remind yourself everything is fine, that you're here.

Seeing your friends, fellow soldiers and veterans just sitting around, enjoying their food while joking with their friends, helped ground you to reality again.

Yeah...see? Nothing's wrong, everyone's having a good time so-

Your gaze met Bertolt's, dark eyes staring back but not at you. No, instead they were focused on your roommate. The knot in your stomach twisted.

Beside him, Reiner was murmuring something under his breath as he leaned closer to Bertolt, his stare following the other's gaze.

Reiner seemed unusual, drops of sweat collecting at his forehead while Bertolt was the opposite, the calmest you've ever seen him actually.

Reiner gave Bertolt one final look, lips moving too fast for you to attempt to even read. Bertolt nodded.

And then it was like nothing happened, both of them going back to their usual selves. Reiner's attention was stolen by Eren asking about his food, while Bertolt looked at Jean who sat next to him without asking before commenting on Eren.

"Hey, are you okay? You look…" your roommate said, concern in their voice before their hand found your forehead. "I heard what happened this morning, with the manoeuvring gear, I didn't want to bring it up but…"

You didn't have to be told twice, and so you reassured them it's okay, you'll get some rest, not like you'd complain about having an excuse to get a day off.

That seemed to make them satisfied, well...that and making you swear on the scouts' honour to take care of yourself while they're away.

After dinner, as you were headed to your room while your roommate had to get to the stable before heading out with their group, you passed by Reiner.

It wouldn't have been unusual, wasn't it for the fact he was fully in his uniform with gear ready that you had to do a double-take.

You swore you just saw him in casual clothes at dinner...was he also going on that mission? Huh, weird you can't remember seeing his name on the list.

-

The week passed by slower than you would've liked, with both of the survey corps Captains gone, most of the soldiers...really had nothing to do but waste time.

It was almost funny, wasn't it for the fact you were bored out of your mind.

Captain Miche rarely gave orders, the only time you'd see him is during training season when everyone had to do a round with him. While commander Erwin didn't really entrust soldiers who weren't close to him with his paperwork or even chores.

At least Sasha and Connie were making the most of it, whatever they were doing seemed fun…

Bertolt never took you up on your offer either, despite him seemingly having a positive reaction to wanting to be friends he didn't show up at all.

Yet you'd still see him hovering by, either being assigned the same chore together or simply happening to be in the same room at the same time. And despite how much you've thought about going up to him to start a conversation, you knew how to read between the lines. You didn't want to make him uncomfortable that's all.

He'll come when he's ready, is what you told yourself.

And well, you were right, eventually, he did.

Not only did he initiate talking, he even attempted to ask if you'd like to accompany him to the nearby town maybe.

With the way his hands were clasped behind his back and slight flushing to his cheeks as he summoned all his courage to ask you that, how could you say no?

-

It was almost like seeing an entirely different person.

Bertolt, in his casual clothes, as he strolled by you through the food stands, seemed a much more...healthier version of himself?

He looked at peace, the smile never leaving his lips. He even made jokes and shared his opinions without being asked.

Whenever you went to check something that stole your attention, he would quickly follow by to erase any form of distance. Whenever your eyes fell on a piece of accessories for too long, he'd suggest you try it on, putting it on you himself.

And yet, whenever his hand would brush yours by accident while walking, he'd almost stumble into the ground and quickly pull it back. Or the time you attempted to adjust the collar of his shirt and you swore his knees almost gave out when you stepped closer, reaching his neck.

Both of you tried different kinds of food, he even offered you his own if you seemed to enjoy a certain food. Saying he'd rather you have it.

Both of you being broke soldiers ment there are only so many things you can do in the town before quickly burning through your savings.

It wasn't long before he suggested going back, you agreed to take the long walk back to enjoy nature a bit more.

You've wondered how come Bertolt only seems the most comfortable when talking to you on walks, but the story he was telling you was too interesting for you to think about it now.

You listened to him talk, it felt like you could listen to him for hours on end before getting bored. For someone who rarely spoke, he surely did have a way with words when he actually did.

It was nice, comfortable and gave you a false sense of normalcy as if the world was okay for a short while.

One final thought you had just before the both of you parted to go to your separate rooms, was that if Bertolt was going to write about this day in his journal.

-

For each day of the remaining week, you and Bertolt managed to hang out more and more.

You went to the lake, a frog landed on him that you had to remove because he was too nervous he might crush it.

He took you to a nearby spot in the town, it seemed normal at first but he just told you to wait. Apparently, each after some dogs would frequent this spot and Bertolt has already made friends with most of them.

And on the last day, both of you actually just spent it...in his room. He had a really comfortable bed and feather pillows that you almost didn't want to leave. And despite sharing a bed he still would keep space between you, no matter the uncomfortable positions he had to sit in.

By the end of the week, the expedition group arrived during sundown.

Their heads lifted high, pride clearly across their faces as they rode their horses. Captain Hange especially seemed much more excited than usual, barely managing to stay still on their horse.

The mission was a success apparently, they've managed to capture two titans with zero mortality rate and minor injuries.

...well almost a zero rate.

You were called into Erwin's office in the middle of the night, when Moblit knocked on your door asking you to quietly follow him.

The night air was cold against your thin clothes, silence filling the usually busy hallways, now errly empty.

Knocking before he told you to enter, he seemed busy with some paperwork, instead offering you a seat and asking to wait shortly.

The curtains behind him were closed shut, the candle sitting on his desk seemed on the verge of burning out, melted wax collecting on the plate under it.

It wasn't till after some seconds that you realised you weren't alone in the room, Captain Levi was leaning against the wall on the other side, arms crossed.

The scratching of the pen against the papers would occasionally get replaced with the sound of dipping the metal head inside the liquid ink container, carefully wiping it against the opening to remove any overflowing liquid.

Your fingers fiddled with the red cushion on the armchair, leg slightly bouncing before you force it to stop each time.

Waiting...and waiting.

The back of your throat felt scratchy, only becoming aware of how dry your mouth was then. Attempting to swallow down as a form of relief didn't help much.

"Here, drink it." A glass of water was offered to you by Levi, handing it to you before going back against the wall.

Saying a small thank you before finishing the glass, you felt slightly better afterwards. Although the growing tension in the air didn't help ease your mind.

"Cadet." Erwin clasped his hands, "I apologise for calling you here this late, although considering the circumstances I'm sure you'd understand."

Opening one of the desk drawers, Erwin pulled out something wrapped in a napkin, the white cotton having a growing reddish stain in its middle.

"I offer my condolences."

-

[rax-writes]

Family Man

Fandom:  MCU Pairing:  Baron Helmut Zemo x OC  [basically a reader insert, because the OC’s physical description isn’t addressed or anything, she just has a name] Warnings:  None Notes:  A Sokovian woman named Irina Molnár was born with the ability to teleport, and in time, she encounters the only man to gain her trust enough to show him. It just so happens that the man in question is the criminal mastermind Helmut Zemo. // So, as I said, it’s an OC but still basically a reader insert; don’t let the OC part deter you if you prefer x reader fics. It just worked better for me on the writing end to use a name, and I have an aversion to using “Y/N,” so I just threw in a pretty name. // TL;DR: Zemo as a dad just kills me & I wanted him to get a second chance at a family.

“I will assist you to the utmost of my ability, on one condition.”

“You’re in no position to be making demands, Zemo.”

“This is both for my own benefit, and yours, I assure you.”

If someone had asked Irina ten years ago where she thought she’d be at this point in life, her answer would have been incredibly far from accurate, for nothing could have predicted the path her life took.

Not that her life had been normal to begin with, being that she was born with the ability to teleport. Sokovia was not exactly a progressive country in the late 1980’s, so her parents had endlessly instructed her to conceal her ability, warning her of the countless dangers of her power being known to others. Her parents were so protective of her that when she teleported as a reflex at age thirteen, after walking along the sidewalk of main street in Novi Grad and a driver fell asleep at the wheel and headed straight for her, they packed up and moved to Russia in the middle of the night. Yet again, the same thing happened at age eighteen, when she was caught up in a hostage situation in a bank and the perpetrator caught her calling the police. Just as he aimed his gun at her and pulled the trigger, she disappeared. Irina and her parents fled to Germany in the dead of night less than twenty-four hours later, and she knew then that she needed to suppress her powers no matter what, being that her father was elderly, and her mother was too ill for them to ever travel again.

So, Irina settled into a normal life in Munich. She worked various odd jobs over the years to support her parents, made and lost a few friends, dated here and there. Her father passed when she was twenty-two, and two years later, her mother joined him. When living in the house where both her parents passed in their sleep became too unbearable, she packed up and moved to Berlin, getting a job at a high-security prison there. Less than a year after she began working there, a newcomer arrived: an inmate by the name of Helmut Zemo.

Being that he knew so much about HYDRA, from his extensive research on them, the American organization SHIELD wished to know more about them. A few psychiatrists and some professional interrogators tried for the first couple months, but they got nothing – quite literally, as he refused to utter a single word to any of them. Irina’s boss knew that she was Sokovian just like Zemo, so she was asked to extract any and all valuable information she could from the new prisoner.

Zemo was an intimidating man; calm, cool, and collected at all times, with eyes like a hawk that bore into Irina’s very soul each time he looked at her. She spent two months talking with him every other day, trying anything and everything she could to get him to talk, but he remained silent. At first, she tried asking him questions outright, but he wouldn’t ever say a word – just stare at her with those cold, calculating eyes. So, Irina changed her approach; they would chat idly in Sokovian to build rapport via their shared mother tongue, or she would ramble about her day, what book she was currently reading, her favorite movies, dates she went on. Those topics got him talking, chatting with her about the miscellaneous subjects she brought up, and both she and her supervisors took it as a good sign. She found that they shared similarities in terms of the loss of their families, and how the destruction of Sokovia hurt them both. Despite how frequently they spoke, he still never revealed anything of importance. After two months, her boss had a few interrogation experts give her some training, so she tried their tactics for another month, but she still got nowhere with him.

Three months after Irina began trying to get intel from Zemo, she sat down in the chair outside his cell, and huffed out a sigh.

“I’m afraid this will be my last visit, Zemo.”

“Why?” His voice held surprise, and a tinge of sadness.

“As you know, they assigned me to visit you for the sake of getting information from you. I’ve been consistently empty-handed over the past four months, so they’re giving up, assigning me back to regular patrol duty.”

“Will I still see you?”

“No. They’re moving me to the women’s side of the prison next week.”

Zemo simply stared at the ground in silence, hands clasped in his lap. Irina allowed the silence to linger for several minutes, then pulled something from her bag, unlocked the small opening on the side of his cell where guards gave him meals, slid the item through, and locked it shut again. He eyed it for a moment before standing and retrieving it, sitting back down on the bed as he looked at it.

“It’s that book I told you about last month, the one you said sounded interesting. Consider it a parting gift.”

He still said nothing, gaze locked on the book cover. Irina cleared her throat and stood, putting her bag on her shoulder as she looked to Zemo one last time.

“It has been nice getting to know you, Zemo. Take care of yourself.”

As Irina pulled open the door to leave, Zemo’s voice called out, “Wait!” She turned to face him and found that he was standing, clenching and unclenching his jaw as if he were thinking, before stating, “Tell your superiors that I will give them one piece of information on HYDRA every two months if you will have lunch with me twice each week.”

Irina’s brows raised in surprise, but she nodded in understanding. “I’ll pass the message along, Zemo.”

“Please… call me Helmut.”

The higher-ups were more than happy to agree to his terms, as long as Irina was okay with them as well, since it involved her. But she wasn't stupid. She told them that it felt like quite an undertaking to agree to such a thing, she had been considering looking for another job in the near future, etcetera. Naturally, they offered to double her pay to persuade her to commit to the arrangement, and it was then that she agreed. In truth, it was no skin off Irina’s nose to do it in the first place. As deranged as it was, Zemo had become her friend, her only friend, and she quite enjoyed talking with him. And even more deranged – bordering psychotic, really – she had developed a bit of a crush on him, finding him to be dangerously handsome and intelligent, so she certainly had no quarrels with agreeing to spend time with him.

Time seemed to fly when Irina began her twice weekly visits to Zemo. She found herself eagerly awaiting their lunches, and she always stayed longer than necessary. She would have rather eaten glass than admit it, but she frequently put a bit more effort into her hair and makeup on the days she would be seeing him.

God, I’m fucking pathetic, Irina thought to herself at least once a week, and yet it never stopped her.

It was another few months later when he said something that made her stomach drop to the pits of hell, and a cold sweat to break out on her skin.

“I know who you are, you know. I have since you first introduced yourself. Irina Molnár, the disappearing girl – at least, that’s what the headlines called you. I remember reading about it when I was a teenager, but the story was forgotten within a week.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Irina replied, but Zemo could hear the quiver in her voice.

“My apologies, I did not mean to make you uncomfortable. I have no intention of mentioning it to anyone besides you. I have simply been wondering… were the rumors true? Can you really just disappear into thin air?”

When Irina hesitated, he added, “Irina, no one would believe me if I told them, and even if they did, they would have no way to prove it. Besides, we have been acquainted for nearly a year now. You are my only solace in this living hell. I would have gone mad had you not came into my life. I would never do anything to risk you harm.”

She exhaled slowly, and looked at the ground when she said, “It’s not ‘disappearing.’ It’s teleporting.”

Zemo leaned forward in his seat, visibly invested in her confession.

“I’ve been able to do it since I was four. Scared my parents half to death when I suddenly appeared before their eyes, having been across the house mere seconds before. I learned to control it pretty quickly, but that day in Sokovia… I was only ten years old, and a car was coming right at me, full speed, so I panicked. I teleported home right before it crushed me, and it would have been a non-issue if my classmate hadn’t been a few feet away and saw the whole thing. He ran his mouth to the press about my identity, so we had to leave.”

“That was why you moved to Russia, not because your father got a job there,” Zemo realized, remembering when you initially told him about your move and falsified the reasoning.

“Yes. It happened again there, when someone shot at me. No one who was around at the time knew my name, so it never made it to the press, but my parents were overly cautious, so we fled to Germany. I’ve not done it since, besides in the comfort of my own home.”

“Show me.”

“You say stupid things for such a brilliant man, Helmut,” Irina said, nodding toward the camera in the corner of the room.

“After you get home tonight, teleport into my cell.”

“Did you miss what I said about the camera, or…?”

“The camera does not have a view of my bed. It only reaches the middle of my cell, not the very back of it where the bed is,” Zemo pointed out, and Irina realized that he was right. She had been in the camera room several times; the camera there did indeed only show the room and half of his cell, never the bed.

“I’ll think about it.”

Zemo smiled brightly, looking excited, like a little kid about to see a magic trick. That alone was enough to motivate Irina to do it, just for the opportunity to see that smile again. So, when she got home that night, she changed into a flowy, deep green sundress, touched up her makeup and hair, strapped on a nice pair of sandals, and then stood in her living room, hyping herself up to take such a risk.

There was a chance that she would get caught. Teleporting in front of anyone was always a risk, no matter what, her parents had always told her. But then that damned, dashing smile crossed Irina's mind, and before she had time to second-guess herself, she was standing at the foot of Zemo’s bed.

The book he’d been reading flew out of his hands as he practically jumped out of his skin, falling to the ground with a loud whack, and he pressed a palm to his chest as he tried to calm his erratic breathing.

“We really should have scheduled a specific time for your arrival,” he muttered, and Irina laughed softly. Thankfully, the cameras had no sound, but if a guard were passing by outside, they may have heard her. When he caught his breath a moment later, Zemo sat up in the bed, letting his legs hang off the edge as he patted the spot beside him. Irina took a seat, crossing her legs and leaning back on her hands.

“So, you were telling the truth. You can actually teleport,” Zemo observed, eyeing her with amusement and interest before he bombarded her with questions. “Can you teleport anywhere in the world? Are there parameters for your distance or location? How long does it take you to travel from one place to another? What does it feel like?”

“I can teleport anywhere I’ve been to or seen photographs of. I cannot do it blindly. The distance nor location does not matter, as long as I have seen my destination before. And it feels like… a slight tingling sensation, all over my body, but it only lasts until I arrive, which takes about a half second.”

“Fascinating,” Zemo whispered. He licked his lips before asking, “Are you capable of teleporting another individual along with you?”

Irina frowned at him. “I’m not breaking you out of prison, Helmut.”

“I didn’t ask that.”

“No, but you were alluding to it,” she countered, and he shrugged. “I can teleport another individual, but only over small distances. Each time I’ve tried, the most distance I’ve gotten with another person has been about ten yards.”

“Perhaps with practice, you could go further.”

“I practiced for years, and ten yards seems to be the true limit. Besides, the only others who have ever known about my ability were my parents, and since they’re gone, I have no test subjects.”

Zemo nodded solemnly, then asked, “What about teleporting repeatedly, in ten yard increments?”

“Tried that. Can only do it about three times before I’m too drained to do it again. Teleporting back-to-back with another person takes a lot of energy,” Irina answered, then added, “And again, even if I could, I am not breaking you out.”

“I am merely interested in your mutation, that is all,” Zemo retorted. Irina shot him a look that said ‘Really?’ so he relented with, “Perhaps also because I wanted to know if you could break me out, but that’s neither here nor there.”

"That's what I thought."

It was another month before either party made a move. They were sitting on Zemo’s bed, side by side, as Irina told him about her day at work, and the man who'd tried hitting on her in the grocery store earlier that evening.

"He thought he was very Rico Suave, but his execution was a nightmare."

"How so?"

"Well, for starters, he followed me around for nearly ten minutes while he worked up the courage to say something. He waited until I walked past him and greeted me with 'Hey, sexy lady.'"

"Oh no," Zemo said, grinning as he looked genuinely amused at this man's poor tactics, although his amusement was contingent upon whether or not Irina was actually interested in him. The way she poked fun at the man indicated a lack of interest, therefore, he was enjoying her tale.

"Oh yes. He then asked if it hurt when I fell from heaven, which is the most overused line in the book, yet he said it with such confidence. And then – get this – he leaned onto what he thought was a shelf, but it was actually a stacked display of cans, which toppled over and sent a hundred soup cans flying down the aisle."

Zemo chuckled, prompting Irina to continue.

"He played it off by saying that my beauty is just so distracting that he didn't even realize what he was doing, and then asked for my phone number."

"Did you give it to him?"

"Absolutely not," Irina said, laughing softly and shaking her head. Zemo was momentarily entranced by the way her beautiful hair fell around her face, and the sound of her laugh.

"Why not?"

"Not my type."

"What is your ‘type’?"

Irina leaned back on the wall behind her, looking up at the ceiling as she thought carefully. "Confidence, but not cockiness. Intelligence. Wit. Sarcastic senses of humor. Men with a sense of passion to them; some kind of fire and gusto about something, whether it be their work, art, music." She looked over at Zemo then, and allowed her gaze to travel slowly up and down his form. "Currently, my type seems to be men I can't have."

Zemo eyed her carefully, allowing himself to absorb her words fully for several moments. She was describing him – he just knew it. Or, he was too blinded by hopefulness and desire to realize that she wasn’t, but he figured there was only one way to find out. So, he leaned forward, closing the gap between them, and pressed his lips to hers.

Irina hesitated for half a second, surprised by his actions, but she recovered quickly and kissed him back. It was gentle, sweet, and explorative, both parties simply enjoying it while it lasts. Neither had any idea how long it lasted, as time stood still. Zemo was the first to pull away, eyes scanning Irina’s face as he looked at her with sheer adoration, as well as a touch of nervousness.

"I understand if you wish for me to never do that again, and I understand if you'd prefer to never see me again. But please know that I did not do that out of blind lust, or anything other fleeting emotion. I did it because my heart has yearned for you every day since first meeting you, and finally having you here next to me, where I can touch you… it was genuinely unbearable to hold myself back from kissing you. I have not felt anything like this since losing my wife, and I did not think my heart was capable of ever feeling it again. But you proved me wrong. I know I am risking an end to the only true human contact I have while trapped inside this cell, which truly frightens me, but the unyielding desire to tell you that I love you overpowers that fear."

Irina stared at him in shock for a few moments, before leaning her head back against the wall and closing her eyes. She exhaled slowly as she collected her thoughts before speaking. "Helmut… I love you, too, but I don't know how this would even work. You're never getting out of here. How can we have any kind of relationship when you're locked in a cell for the rest of your days?"

"We will make it work, my darling," Zemo said, sitting up straighter and turning to face her. "I will ensure that we mimic a true relationship as much as possible. I cannot wine and dine you as I would like to do, but I can easily bribe the guards to have lavish meals brought here for us to share on evenings such as these. I cannot take you out for birthdays or anniversaries, but I will ensure that you are showered with gifts on those days. My angel, I cannot give you a normal life, but I can promise to endlessly strive to make you happy."

Irina stared deeply into his eyes for what felt like an eternity, and she saw nothing but genuity, longing, and adoration there. She could feel the sincerity in his words, feel how desperately he wished for her to agree to his proposal. She was no fool; she knew that their relationship would be a struggle, and she knew that it would never be any resemblance of normal. But she also knew that he made her heart soar in a way no other man ever had, and that she would die feeling like she missed out on something incredible if she walked away from Zemo now.

“Okay,” Irina whispered, mostly to herself, before repeating it in a stronger, more self-assured voice. “Okay.”

For a man who always knew what to say, Zemo was at a loss for words, overcome with joy. He simply cupped her cheek and kissed her, far more passionately than before, allowing his triumphant and ecstatic feeling to flow through the kiss. Irina gripped the front of his sweatshirt in her fists, melting into him, before wrapping her arms around his neck as his free hand moved to rest on the curve of her waist.

Ages had passed by the time they broke apart, foreheads resting against each other as they fought to catch their breaths. Irina was the first to break the comfortable silence they created, laughing quietly in disbelief at the events that had just transpired. Zemo followed suit, a deep, velvety chuckle bubbling up from his chest. He pressed another kiss to her lips before leaning back and looking at her. They gazed at each other in sheer contented bliss for a few moments more, before Irina became the first to speak.

“I love you, Helmut.”

“And I love you, darling.”

---------------

The sound of the front door opening caused Irina to immediately look up from the book she'd been reading. She frowned, then stood and headed for the door as quickly as possible, calling out, "Nikolai! You know better than to open that door, young man!" When she reached the entryway, she stopped dead in her tracks.

There stood Helmut, wearing the softest, sweetest smile she'd ever seen as he opened his arms to her. She hesitated a moment, unsure whether or not it was real, before he murmured, "Hello, my love." His voice – that alluring raspy undertone, and the gentleness it took on as he spoke to her – broke Irina from her trance, and she ran to him and into his arms, careful of her rounded belly.

Zemo stroked her hair and held her, and her arms around his neck gripped him like a vice, to the point that it hurt a little, but he'd never tell her that. A small sob fell from Irina's lips before she even realized she'd started crying, and he whispered sweet nothings in her ear in Sokovian to soothe her, about how much he loved her and how happy he was to see her. When her crying quieted down a bit, he pulled away to kiss her, a kiss full of love and longing. When he broke the kiss a few moments later, she stroked his cheek lovingly, and he wiped the stray tears from her eyes.

"How are you here? What happened?" Irina asked, and only then did she notice the two men standing awkwardly by the doorway, their faces a mixture of suspicion and surprise. "Who are they?"

"They are the men who helped me escape. James was previously known as the Winter Soldier, and Sam is currently known as the Falcon, an Avenger."

Irina raised an eyebrow at him. "But… you… the Avengers… the Winter Soldier…."

"I know, I know. I am just as surprised as you are, but they need me for something, something very important."

"The Flag Smashers? I saw them on the news. They have Super Soldiers somehow."

"Yes, darling, exactly right. We'll find them, defeat them, and I'll be back before you know it."

Irina understood the implication of his words. He'd be back, but whether that would be in her home or in his cell was yet to be determined. But she knew him. She knew that he would not take his newfound freedom as a one-time opportunity. A storm of thoughts about what that would mean for them flashed through her mind, but Zemo’s hands on her stomach snapped her out of it.

"How is our daughter?" he asked, gently rubbing Irina’s baby bump, a bright smile blooming when the child inside kicked at his hands, as she always did. She had only been in existence for seven months, and she wasn't even born yet, but she already favored him over her mother.

"She's good, she's been moving around a lot today, as if she knew her Daddy was coming," Irina replied, earning a grin from Zemo. "The doctors told me this morning that her heartbeat is strong and she appears to be the picture of health."

"Good, good. And what about –"

"DADDY!" a tiny voice bellowed from down the hall, and they turned to see a small boy running full speed toward Zemo. Irina stepped back to allow him a clear passageway, smiling as Helmut crouched down to meet him, enveloping the boy in an embrace as he collided with his father's chest.

"Nikolai, I've missed you," Zemo stated, rubbing the boy's back as he stood, still holding his son. Irina caught the way her husband's voice wavered when he said that, and she laid a comforting hand on his back.

"I've missed you too, Daddy. Are you living with me and Mommy now?" Nikolai asked, leaning back in his father's arms to gaze at him with excitement plain on his face. Zemo gave him a smile, but Irina could see the sadness in it, knowing the future was uncertain.

"Not quite, buddy. Just here for a visit," Zemo replied, and Irina rubbed his back comfortingly before pressing a kiss to their son's temple.

Their family time was interrupted by Sam clearing his throat loudly, and when Zemo turned to face him, his smile faded.

"Sorry to interrupt, but Zemo, you've got some explaining to do, and not much time to do it. Don't forget we're on borrowed time here."

"Right," Zemo confirmed, then exhaled slowly. "James, Sam, this is my wife Irina and our son Nikolai…. He is five, and Irina is seven months along."

Confusion washed over both men's faces, and they exchanged a glance before the other, James, was the first to speak.

"But… you've been in prison for eight years. Have you been escaping every few years and no one's noticed?"

"I have not left my cell in eight years, consecutively. But my wife is capable of getting into my cell as often as we wish."

"So, what? You've just been having conjugal visits all the damn time? And the prison staff green-lit that?" Sam asked.

"No, not exactly," Zemo answered, then glanced at Irina. They shared a look before she explained further.

"I can teleport. I met Helmut when I was tasked with extrapolating information about HYDRA from him, and he refused to share anything unless the prison staff agreed to let him meet with me twice a week, just to chat, in which case he'd give them tidbits of information bi-monthly. They agreed, and before long, I revealed my ability to him. I'd visit him in his cell occasionally, because the cameras only show half of it. Over time, well… we fell in love. Nikolai came a few years later, and now…" Irina trailed off, then rubbed a hand over her pregnant belly.

"Why didn't you ever bust him out?" James asked.

"I can only teleport small distances with another person, and I can only do it twice at the most, so we'd have never made it off the grounds."

James and Sam were silent for a moment, absorbing the information they'd been given. Sam was the first to break the silence.

"Zemo, you said this little pitstop would benefit me and Bucky. But it's not like she can go with us," he said, sounding a bit irritated as he gestured towards Irina’s stomach. "So what the hell was the point?"

"It does benefit you. You now possess the knowledge that a teleporter exists. Congratulations," Zemo said dryly, then looked at his wife and son for a moment, before returning his attention to the men. "Sam, the point was that I lost my family when Sokovia was destroyed, and the family I have now has only ever seen me inside a prison cell. I wanted my son to have at least one memory of his father in his home with him."

James – no, Bucky, apparently – and Sam exchanged a look, before Bucky sighed and looked to Zemo.

"You have one hour. Sam and I will be guarding the exits, so don't try to escape. If you do…." He trailed off after glancing at Nikolai. "Let's just say it won't be pretty."

True to their word, Sam and Bucky remained stationed outside the home, one out front and one out back. Zemo milked that hour as much as possible, spending most of it in his son’s room with him and Irina, listening intently to Nikolai tell him all about what’s been going on at school, his favorite shows, the trip he took to the zoo the day before with Irina, etc.. He even told Zemo about each and every one of his toys, simply enjoying talking to his dad, and although Zemo was the one to send almost every one to him, therefore he already knew about them, he didn’t mention that. He simply listened intently as his son spoke, enjoying the quality time with him, exchanging smiles and occasional kisses with Irina. She showed him the nursery she’d been working on for their daughter, and he finished putting together the crib she’d started, Nikolai happily handing him parts and screws as needed. Zemo also moved the dresser and changing table to where she’d wanted them but couldn’t move them herself, then they settled into the living room shortly before the hour was up.

Sam and Bucky reentered the house to find the family sitting around the coffee table, playing a game of Jenga. They stood silently in the doorway to the living room, watching as Nikolai carefully drew a block from the tower before placing it back on the top with a triumphant look on his little face. Zemo commended his concentration, then drew a block himself, although he intentionally wiggled it a little so that the tower came toppling down.

“I won! Daddy, I won!”

“Yes, you did, my son. Excellent job,” Zemo said warmly, then glanced at Sam and Bucky before scooping the boy up into a tight hug. “Daddy has to go now, but I will see you again soon.”

“Do you have to go?”

“I’m afraid so. But I need you to promise me something before I leave. Take care of your mom for me, will you?”

“I will, I promise.”

“Good boy,” Zemo said with a smile, then kissed Nikolai’s forehead and set him down. Zemo stood and helped Irina stand up, hugging her tightly as he buried his face into her neck. Quietly, so that no one but her could hear, he said, “I will not be going back to prison unless there is no other way, but know that yours and our children’s safety is my utmost concern.”

“I know, Helmut,” Irina whispered back, and he pressed a long, lingering kiss to her lips. “I love you.”

“I love you, my angel,” Zemo murmured against her lips, then stooped down to hug his son again. “And I love you, Nikolai.”

“I love you, too, Daddy,” the boy responded, and the way his voice quivered as he choked back tears broke his parents’ hearts into a million pieces. Reluctantly, Zemo let him go and he wrapped his arms around his mother’s leg, resting his head against her as he sniffled and she rubbed his back.

“Be safe, sweetheart,” Irina commanded.

Zemo nodded to her before walking over to join Sam and Bucky. With one last heartbroken look at his family, he left, closing the door behind him as he let out a shaky breath. He didn’t meet the other men’s eyes as he walked over to the car, and after they all piled in, they drove in silence to the airport, off to their next stop in Madripoor.

---------------

@henrysmorgan​ @clints-lucky-arrow​ @therenlover​

[chidoroki]

Norman - 22194

March 21st is here and it’s time for yet another birthday post. I already rambled on about Emma and Ray on their special days, so now it’s finally time to complete this full-score tradition with Norman. It might not be as detailed or long as the other two, since he was absent for a good chunk of the story, but it doesn’t make him any less important! I’ll be honest now, the boy isn’t my favorite character (he doesn’t place anywhere in my top ten for this series either) so I probably missed some moments worth mentioning but I did my best to praise this child anyway!

(spoilers for the entirety of The Promised Neverland, so if you haven’t read/completed the manga yet, consider this your first warning, because I’m once again going from start to finish with this.)

Since I want to stay consistent with the other two posts, this will focus on the manga timeline, as season 2 is, well.. it’s own thing. I’ll mention some things but don’t count on much. With that, let’s go.

- He achieves a perfect score on Grace Field’s daily tests, alongside Emma and Ray.

- He is, without a doubt, the smartest kid the house has ever seen, as he passes each test flawlessly and has maintained a 300 average.

- He’s a complete strategist who is capable of achieving victory (even in something simple as tag) by observing his opponents moves and analyzing their weaknesses in order to counter.

- Knows how to pick locks. The scene from ch1 was left out but we see him doing so later on in ep02.

- Stays relatively positive and calm after learning about the truth of the farm.

- Even going as far as giving Emma a reassuring smile, which I think is impressive given the literal nightmare fuel they’ve just witnessed. 

- I’m giving him half credit for suggesting the idea of there being tracking devices, since anime has him reveal this possibility while in manga it’s Emma.

- Both of them realize what determines the shipping order and that the demons favor their brains.

- This silly panel that I love dearly.

- Made sure to do a sweep of the entire house beforehand to make sure their escape planning doesn’t get pick up on.

- Figures out that Isabella only knows the children’s locations when she checks the tracker and that it can’t identify who is who.

- Has the nerve to lie right to Isabella’s face.. not that she believes it, but still gutsy nonetheless.

- Knowing the house probably wouldn’t have any rope, it was his idea to use the spare tablecloths.

- Had a feeling that Ray would reveal the harsh reality of how dangerous it would be to escape with all the children, which turns out to be correct.

- His laugh in ep02 is so precious.

- This statement being 100% accurate.

- Manages to convince the logical Ray, who we know now has spent many years coming up with a solid, safer escape plan, to join in and assist with their crazy and reckless plan instead. Having Ray on their side also grants them many advantages.

- Absolutely hates to lose, which is a good mentality to have in a world where your life is a stake and your time is limited, which eventually leads him to consider every possible opportunity to stay ahead of his enemies throughout the remainder of the story.

- Realizes that the trackers must only send out a signal upon being broken, which we found out to be true in Ray’s one-shot chapter.

- - Him looking completely terrified in this panel.

- He managed to catch all the Grace Field kids in a game of tag even after they received advice from Ray about how to survive longer.

- The goddamn intimidating energy he gives off here is fantastic.

- Despite his body being physically weak, he manages to survive and win against Krone during their game of tag.

- Just like Ray some couple chapters ago, Norman is completely serious about this idea.

- Suspects there’s a traitor among the kids and swiftly comes up with a plan to lure them out.

- This panel of him “dead” from the first side story.

- He has a feeling the spy is Ray, so he moves up the day of the escape to catch him off guard and send him into a panic.

- Even though the anime didn’t include it, he managed to throw off Krone as well with some fake footprints to keep her off their backs.

- Was honestly considering on leaving the spy behind while the rest of them escaped, though he doesn’t seem real happy about the idea, considering the traitor is Ray.

- His plan on fishing out the spy was flawless as he finally calls Ray out by revealing that the information he gave about the ropes and where he hid them were fake locations.

- Not only was Ray the first one Norman suspected, but he caught onto him way back when Krone first came to the house. All the information Ray was feeding them helped Norman come to this conclusion as well.

- Along with Emma’s words about believing that no one in their family is truly bad, Norman refrains from cutting Ray off to allow him to become their trump card. This was a risky move itself, knowing Ray could sell both him & Emma out at any time. Norman tends to prioritize victory, so while staying alive is absolutely necessary and that could’ve been achieved without Ray (as he could’ve just used Ray then ditch him later), he still decides to make the offer as realizes that in order defeat Isabella, Ray’s full cooperation is essential.

- Realizes that it was Ray who hid Little Bunny in the first place and lead Norman and Emma to investigate the gate that night, which leads him to believe that Ray isn’t really an enemy.

- He’s also left handed. Yes, that’s important. Not only for later in the story but because we’re superior. I’m sorry y’all had to find out this way. 

- This stupid, little face he makes.

- Suspects that Ray doesn’t actually plan on escaping at all and intends to kill himself.

- Just like Emma and Ray, Norman also recognizes and understands morse code.

- Look at this precious child, not even angry after getting punched and knocked over. (because i certainly would be)

- Finds Ray’s hidden supply of oil which confirms the method for his future suicide. This also helps Norman later on when he comes up with a refined escape plan by using the fire Ray plans to start.

- Figures out Krone’s true intention about why she wants to join forces with the kids in the first place. 

- He ends up accepting Krone’s offer anyway, because despite the large risk, any information that can snag out of her would benefit them.

- You mad lad, look at you, taunting the bringer of death yet again while a smile on your face.

- And he still manages to find some strength to smile while upon death’s door.

- Not for long though, as once he’s given the chance to be alone, he finally breaks down. Having the cup overflow with water really helps demonstrate how impactful the thought of dying hit him as Norman was overcome with so many emotions that he didn’t even have the strength to hold onto the cup or his facade. It’s then he starts to feel scared and sorry for himself but away from Emma and Ray’s eyes as to not worry them.

- His entire internal monologue as he comes to terms with his unfortunate situation and flips back to his determined “I can’t lose” attitude to help everyone else escape. Also, his theme ‘22194’ hits especially hard.

- For someone with weak, physical abilities, he manages to climb the wall on his own.

- Though the cliff stopped his escape, he used that opportunity to survey the surrounding area of the entire farm to rely his findings to the duo and provide them a safer escape route.

- Completely adamant about his decision to accept his shipment in order to give the rest of his family a chance to escape. (hell, id’ be terrified right now)

- This hug that is sure to break everyone’s hearts.

- Quick to react to Emma’s last ditch effort and prevented her from slamming her already busted up leg into the ground.

- Not only did he predict that Ray would start a fire to distract Isabella and on which day, he also left behind the pen and key he received from Krone along with a new, detailed plan (which he managed to come up with in only a few hours by the way) that would allow the kids to cross over the cliff.

(post season one spoilers below. again, focusing on the manga timeline, so any new season 2 events will be mentioned sparingly.)

- Like Ray, Norman was able to figure out how the pen worked well enough to see Minerva’s message regarding B06-32.

- Since he doesn’t show up again for quite some time post-escape, there isn’t much to talk about.. but at least I can make fun of him thanks to extra pages, like how he wouldn’t have enough strength to use a bow.

- But hey, props to s2ep10 for actually giving us Norman shooting an arrow. He was pretty decent with it too, as he hit his target on the first try behind a darn smokescreen. The manga did show him holding a bow in ch161, but that’s it.

- Not relevant to the actual story at all, but his smarts certainly make anything possible.

- I’m sorry but these tiny failures of his bring me great joy.

- Though the tests at Lambda are harder than those at Grace Field, Norman still managed to get every question correct. Every single day he was there. Even when the facility manages to increase the difficulty of the tests, he continues to pass each one with flying colors.

- Since he noticed someone who’s right handed also takes the same tests he does, he makes an attempt to communicate with them via a Rubik’s cube. He waits patiently for five months until he finally gets a response from Vincent around Christmas 2046. 

- Dealt with the experiments/drugs that were forced onto him and the seizures that resulted from them.

- Even with the tight security and surveillance, he somehow acquired explosives and successfully blow up Lambda and escapes with the survivors.

- Again, not significant to the story, but seriously dude? You just fainted and yet you still get this crazy question right effortlessly?

(post time-skip)

- Contacts Lucas moments before the B06-32 shelter gets blown up and gives him the numeric code that eventually leads Emma’s group to the “Jaw of Lion.”

- Destroyed numerous mass production farms since his escape from Lambda.

- As well as save countless children from other farms and used the Paradise shelter found by Smee’s network to give them a sense of safety and taste of a normal life.

- The darn glow-up he receives, like sweet lord child, are you sure you’re still 13??

- - His cute, squishy cheeks though!

- He may look like he’s in his thirties, but still has the strength of a child. (see anime? this is how strong ray’s slap should have been!)

- Learned a great deal of demon history and gave that lengthy lesson about the demon’s genetics and how they inherit the characteristics of whatever they eat and evolve accordingly. 

- With Emma’s wish about saving everyone and lively happily still on his mind, he thought of a safe and certain method in order to create such a future for all the children raised as food.. which ends up being complete extermination of all the demons caused by a civil war. His plan also includes ending the Ratri clan as well. How cheerful.

- Are you surprised to learn that Norman getting tackled by the younger kids is my favorite panel of him?

- You weak, little bean, I’m sorry I enjoy making fun of you so much.

- Successfully forms an alliance with Lord Geelan and his clan by offering revenge on the royal family, the five regent houses, as well as the Ratri clan, thus putting Geelan in full control. In return, it would grant Norman the full release of farm children, permission to self-govern and some much needed power in terms of demon strength.

- He knows full well that the entire alliance is a lie and both parties are only using each other, though in works in his favor, as it will send the demons to destroy each other without the lose of any human lives.

- This absolute powerful panel that the anime decided “nah, we’re gonna change this too” because they’re cowards.

- Narrowed down possible locations on where to find Sonju and Mujika. Sure it was with the intention of killing our demon friends but his map was accurate.

- Survived who knows long with his seizures at level 4, and because of his severe condition, he’s completely set on following through his plan and succeeding before his time runs out.

- Seems to enjoy blowing stuff up, such as the imperial city’s bridges to send the place into a panic and trap all the citizens.

- Advised the Lambda crew on how to effectively fight against the queen by attacking relentlessly.

- Let loose a poison that causes not only normal demons to degenerate, but the royal family as well, such as the five regent heads and the queen who’s name is too long and complicated for me to ever remember, who all have the cursed blood. (at least that’s how effective it was in manga, in anime it did absolutely nothing to vylk)

- He somehow managed to learn, speak and understand the demon language, which, according to Shirai (vol16 author notes), is actually an uncommon language nowadays. (and we’ll unfortunately never know how this language actually sounds, thank anime..)

- Do I even praise him for killing a demon and well.. all this? Sure in the anime he tried killing Vylk, but old demon was fair more innocent compared to the royal family, so I have no idea.

- I will give season 2 some credit and say I prefer their take on the “right now you look like a small child, shaking with fear” panel.

- But not too much credit, as they didn’t give us the full trio hug as the manga did!

- Then again the anime did have him about to apologize to Vylk and Demon Emma for his actions, which is something, I suppose? since in ch154 he says he didn’t regret killing the queen and royals, which I guess is justified because they were the bigger problem, but oh well.

- Might have apologized to Ayshe for killing her father? Can’t be sure but that’s the unanimous consensus in the fandom right?

- Instantly comes up with counter moves and directions for the entire group upon hearing the enemies locations from Vincent during the GF raid.

- I honestly can’t look at this panel anymore and not laugh about it.. because reasons.

- He just keeps on winning. (also he looks real good here, i’ll give him that.)

- He and everyone else are skeptical about there being no “reward,” and for rightfully so.

- Upon learning that Emma is missing after everyone crossed over to the human world, they all adopt her optimistic attitude and swear to find her no matter where she might be.

- After a stressful two year search, the kids finally find Emma and Norman is so overcome with emotion that he busts out into tears of joy, despite finding out that she lost her memories due to the reward. All that matters to him is that Emma was safe and happy and he accepts her just the way she is.

And I guess.. that’s it. I’m sorry again, I know this is truly the weakest post out of the trio and I have no doubt I glanced over a whole bunch of great moments but it still had to be done! Making fun of him probably wasn’t the best thing to do on his special day either, but I assure you this child is very powerful. Who else do you know that is capable of sending an entire fandom into a panic and rage furiously by just simply showing up?

Ah ha okay, now I’m done. In all seriousness though, this lad is great and through everything he has endured, he definitely deserves to be celebrated today, so happy birthday to our boy Norman!

[sunbeams-and-honey]

Hello!! First off I just wanted to say that your blog is so amazing like I have learned many great things about astrology so for that thank you 🙏☺️ I want to know your opinion about my chart, in fact I am a Sagittarius sun/mercury/venus/pluto (2nd house) , capricorn moon (3rd house), virgo mars(11th house), pisces jupiter (5th house) and scorpio rising. Thanks already 🙏💕

Hi darling! Thanks for the question and sorry about the wait. Also I’m so glad my blog has helped you learn about astrology! It’s such a beautiful subject, I think we can all agree.

Anyways, I've already gone over the following placements! Click on each one to find each respective post:

Sagittarius Sun Capricorn Moon

Sagittarius Pluto

Virgo Mars

Scorpio Rising

Moving on, your Sagittarius Mercury makes you constantly on the lookout for opportunities to try new things, and oftentimes you are successful in doing this. You always want to push the boundaries of your own knowledge and abilities, which is good because you are never accepting limits, but can put you at risk of overworking yourself. You want to move around as much as possible, expanding however you can, but this makes you incredibly restless. You shouldn't settle for anything less than you deserve, but you do run the risk of just never stopping for a moment and taking time to relax. To you, life is an adventure that you want to make the absolute most of at all times.

Your Mercury in the 2nd means that you absolutely think before you speak. You aren't really the impulsive type when it comes to how you communicate. You know the impact your words can have, whether that's for better or worse, and so you choose them carefully. You have a natural affinity with anyone related to financial matters. You put all your efforts into your studies, always wanting to work hard and to achiever the best possible results. You have an innate thirst knowledge, constantly looking out for new information you can accumulate. Your curiosity is insatiable, and while this does have its benefits, it can get the better of you, leading you to learn things you'd much rather forget as soon as possible.

Your Sun is in the 2nd too, which makes you someone who always keeps their word, no matter what. Promises are very important to you, as well as trust in general. The only thing you hate more than making empty promises is other people making them to you. You are very practical and driven, always striving for success. This is another placement which promises a keen eye for financial matters. You can be quite materialistic and even greedy, always wanting to accumulate as many things as possible. You can be rather power-hungry because you crave the security and status that comes with that kind of power. You also have a talent for business.

You have your Venus in Sagittarius, which means you would absolutely take risks, no matter how big, just so you can have a little more fun and excitement in your life. This can be good because it means you're unlikely to ever be bored for too long, but it can mean that you unknowingly hurt others for the sake of your own entertainment. You want to explore the world around you and uncover all of its secrets. It may sound extreme, but you're more or less repulsed by the mere idea of settling down one day. In terms of romantic partners, you have to be with someone who you have things in common with. You desire relationships that allow you the chance to become a better person or to learn a new skill. You love people who can teach you something about pretty much anything.

Your 2nd House Venus makes you appear materialistic and greedy to others, when in reality you are actually very empathetic and kind. You are fond of your physical possessions, but it's not the most important thing to you in the world. You're an expert in matters of the heart, despite what other people may think. You have a great appreciation for all things beautiful, whether that's in a physical or metaphorical sense. You probably like to collect things that make you happy when you look at them. You are very elegant and want the best that life has to offer. Your love language is probably giving and receiving gifts. You're not shallow, you just like to be appreciated in that way. You don't want to settle for any less than what you believe you deserve.

Your Pluto in the 2nd means that you are rather business-like in more or less everything that you do. You are hard-headed, taking no shit from anyone. You hate wasting time, which does help you to be a very productive person overall, but does put you at serious risk of overworking yourself. Learning to allow yourself to take breaks is going to be a very valuable lesson for you. I know that resting can make you feel very guilty, but you need rest, and you don't have to work for it and 'earn' it. You might go through a lot of emotional distress throughout your life, but please don't let this scare you. It all depends on the rest of your chart, and even then, astrology is not, and never will be, a guarantee. You will always have the power to control your own life.

Your Moon is in the 3rd House, which makes you rather balanced, in that you are rational while also taking your emotions into account. You highly value your personal relationships with the people you love, and you want to forge real connections with anyone in your life. You hate being fake. You're quite open when it comes to your thoughts and feelings. You voice them when you feel the need to and you don't tend to feel uncomfortable doing it. This placement combined with your Mercury in the 2nd can mean that you sometimes overshare, though you shouldn't let this discourage you from being open with your loved ones.

You have your Mars in the 11th House, which means you are enthusiastic, energetic and capable. You love to take part in a wide variety of activities, often surprising people with how broad your interests are. You have many dreams that you would love to achieve in your lifetime, and have enough faith to at least try to make them come true. You have great leadership skills and you usually know exactly what you're doing. You tend to pick things up pretty quickly. You like to work on your relationships in order to strengthen them, but you can be quite ignorant of the actual people you are friends with. Both you and your friends are at risk of being taken advantage of by the other person(s), so it's vital that you make yourself aware of this so you can prevent it before it happens.

Your Pisces Jupiter makes you a very intuitive person who would definitely use that ability to get what you want in life. You play around with the subconscious of yourself and of others frequently, which is something that interests you deeply, but is something that can make you somewhat manipulative. You are very invested in the dreams of others, always interested in what they want to achieve in life and very dedicated in helping them get there. You can sometimes neglect your own though so be sure to pay attention to yours from time to time. You should also practise setting healthy boundaries, even with the people you love. You may feel guilty because of it but I promise that it will be for your own benefit and the people around you should understand. Don't be afraid to say 'no' if you feel you need or want to.

Your Jupiter in the 5th means that you love expressing your identity in any which way you choose, especially if it involves being creative. You don't like to dwell too much on decisions, but this can mean that you make choices carelessly, potentially causing extra problems down the line as a result of that. You are quite a fun person, always looking for the next adventure. You're eager to get everything you can out of life. You are quite confident when it comes to your relationships with others. You may be good with kids unless there are other placements that say otherwise. You have the courage needed to express your true identity to the world.

Words Of Advice:

Make sure you take the time to show your good intentions.

Don't give up too quickly.

Don't let your pride cloud your judgment.

Don't waste your energy on short and passionate affairs all the time.

Things become much easier when you calm down.

Don't let money be the only thing that drives you.

Think before you act and speak.

Try not to bite off more than you can chew.

Listen to what the people around you have to say for themselves.

Work on feeling more comfortable with who you are as a person.

Thanks for the question darling and I hope this helped! Sending good vibes your way and have a wonderful rest of your day! And just a reminder for everyone else, my inbox is currently closed (I received this ask long before I closed my inbox) so please don't send in anything else! Thank you and I'll let you all know when it's open again!

[magioftheseas]

Sonia & Yasuke

Summary: Sonia Nevermind’s FTEs in the SDR2 Protagonist Matsuda Yasuke AU. FUCK YES. A slightly divergent take on the originals.

Rating: PG

Warnings: Language. Brief discussions of cults and kidnapping.

Notes: Sonia was neck and neck with Tanaka for the poll and I was going to do hers soon anyway, so I just went ahead. Sometimes, life just shakes out that way. I really do love Sonia so much. The bias is strongest for Sonia, so I really hope I did her justice. Only the best for our kween. (Btw, the formatting for this couldn’t fully carry through so some stylistic choices on Ao3 are absent here.)

Read this fic among others HERE

Main story is HERE

Commission? Donate?

He supposed he had been in an antsier mood than usual. In one hand, he read his manga. In the other, he played with and twirled around a pen. He’s practiced enough that he doesn’t need to look. It’s just something for his other hand to do. Something that would, ideally, work off some jitters.

He had almost been too worked up to read. Unfortunately, he’s still having a hard time trying to get into the book. He can’t tell if it’s because the story is dragging itself or because he’s just not in the right headspace. What a nuisance.

He catches the pen between his knuckles, tapping the end against the table. A surprised gasp. A round of applause. Matsuda glances over his book to meet the beaming face of a certain princess. Even in a hotel this cafeteria this tacky, she shone like a precious jewel.

What a nuisance. Except—

“So impressive, Matsuda-san!” she squealed. “You truly have fury skillz, yo!”

I guess of all the people here, she’s the most tolerable.

“Impressive, huh,” he mused. “I could probably twirl a scalpel, too.”

“Ooh!” Sonia clasped her hands. “Matsuda-san! Will you perform?!”

“No.” He shook his head. “I’m not going to risk cutting my fingers just to show off. I’ll twirl the pen some more.”

“Oh, I understand...” Quieting, Sonia still watched him twirl with intent eyes. It’s like he’s center stage at an opera house. Sonia hums and her fingers even twitch along. “Matsuda-san, such talented fingers... I truly do applaud you.”

Matsuda flipped the pen, catching it before it fell to the ground. Sonia let out another gasp and clapped some more, giggling.

“Bravo, bravo!”

Jeez. She’s so likable that it’s sickening.

It’s almost like he wouldn’t have a choice in the matter should the two of them become friends.

I guess...there are worse relationships to be forced into. Even if I already have a headache.

Still, the mood couldn’t help but be lightened whenever Sonia laughed. Scary.

--

His fingers were a bit aching, and holding a cold drink alleviated some of the stinging. Sonia, ever the prim and proper young lady with her mouth shut, simply sipped tea from across the table. The picture of elegance. Even in a cafeteria this tacky.

But it’s not like any location short of the azure sky and sapphire ocean could do someone like her justice.

“This island truly is sublime,” Sonia hummed. “The weather is always so serene, and the ocean is as blue as it is endless! Truly! It’s a perfect resort, wouldn’t you say, Matsuda-san?”

“I don’t know if I’d go as far as to say perfect,” he replied. “There’s a little too much fucking walking. I’m not big on sweating.”

Even if big hospitals had fancier equipment, I still hated having to rush back and forth.

“To be more contained can have its benefits,” Sonia agreed good-naturedly. “Still, I must say I am quite happy with what we have.”

Matsuda hummed right back.

Happy...

“Situation could be better,” he said. “Would really fucking love if we weren’t being held hostage by a homicidal fucking bear.”

“Indeed,” Sonia agreed solemnly. “Quite regrettable.”

Matsuda waited for her to continue, but she merely took another elegant sip. Still the picture of calm. Sonia’s eyes do flicker open and it’s then that Matsuda takes notice of the color. They’re a clear, soft green. It’s a unique shade. One he thinks he’s only seen in...

“As long as no murders take place, everything will be alright,” Sonia spoke with conviction. “What happens next...will depend on our own inclinations and choices.”

I shouldn’t compare them too much.

“That’s a reductive way of looking at it,” he said. “Even if we have the resolve, I don’t doubt that our hands are going to be forced.”

Sonia slammed her cup onto the table. It cracked just the slightest bit.

“Then, we should cooperate with one another so that we can return home as quickly as we can,” she said sunnily. “Matsuda-san, I trust you to tell me any ideas you may come up with. I shall do what I can.”

“Well...” Matsuda directed his stare towards one of the security cameras. “We’d first have to come up with something to do about those.”

“If we simply shattered them, we would get punished severely,” Sonia recalled, lamenting as she did. “We would have to act... And perhaps...”

She dropped into lower mumbles that Matsuda couldn’t make out. Perhaps out of precaution, in case they were being recorded. Matsuda watches her sink deeper and deeper into thought.

Even she can’t be serene and optimistic all the time. She’s still managing better than anyone else here.

“Do you understand, Matsuda-san?” she asked, tone serious. “Or must I repeat myself?”

“If you did, it’d have to be a little louder, so it’d be better if you could write it down discretely and pass it to me later,” he said, sighing. “It’s a little too risky discussing anything out in the open.”

Sonia clapped with glee.

“A handsome remark! This is why I know I can rely on your intelligence and wit, Matsuda-san.” She gave a few nods of approval. “It might be better for our moral to chat amiably for now.” With a dazzling smile, she then inquired, “Is there anything you’d like to ask of me?”

Matsuda blinked at her.

“Not really.” I am curious about one thing. Given the circumstances, it’s best to hold off on that. “What about you?”

“There is something! That I AM quite curious about!” Sonia exclaimed, suddenly excited. “Who has captured your heart? And who do you plan to settle on?!”

Matsuda stared.

“...?”

His head tilted in confusion, so Sonia went on to explain.

“This situation—it is similar to The Summer Story of Seven Men and Seven Women, wouldn’t you say?! The standard practice, then, is to start wavering and swapping partners!”

“The...J-drama?” he asked, no less confused but Sonia was more incited regardless.

“No just the J-drama, the legendary J-drama! The original trendsetter! Starting with an upbeat tone... Before shifting to surprisingly serious!” she swooned. “I couldn’t believe my eyes, and yet I couldn’t look away! Momoko’s feelings...! Wow, so intense!”

“Uh-huh...” Matsuda’s eyes rolled back. “Well... I’m not sleeping with anyone on this stupid fucking island, so it’s not going to be that similar. That, and there are more guys here than girls to begin with...”

“That is true!” Sonia gasped. “Someone will have to be unlucky! I wonder... Who it will be...?”

Didn’t I just say I wasn’t going to...? Not to mention some of the guys flat-out wouldn’t be interested. Although I don’t think that’ll keep someone from being unlucky, huh...

It looked like he wouldn’t get in another word in edgewise.

This still isn’t going to fix the declining birthrate.

At least Sonia seemed to be having a hella time theorizing. Matsuda just let her...do that.

--

“I managed to find a couple of books on Novoselic,” he said, setting the stack of books on the table before a sparkly-eyed Sonia. “Since we don’t have the internet, this was the best I could scrounge up and even then I don’t know if they’re all that accurate.”

“Oh, Matsuda-san, I would have told you anything you needed to know!” She does take one of the books. “That said, I recognize this author. You can trust them! Oh, but this one...” She takes another, frowning. “If I recall... No. You should not trust this one at all. In fact, I would burn every copy of this book.”

“I could kind of tell from the tone,” Matsuda hummed, setting it apart and pushing it far away. Sonia’s frown was still a deep mar on her face. “So, these books are accurate?”

“As I have said, Matsuda-san, I do not mind telling you about my country,” she said, smiling again. “Or! Is this courting? I’m afraid I will have to sadly decline, much as this feels like something out of a J-drama...”

She says while looking disappointed in herself...

“It’s more that I thought you should know what other people are writing about your country,” he said. He paused. “Ah, I guess that was pretty presumptuous of me.”

“Not at all!” Sonia shook her head. “Awareness and control of the media are essential! Not to mention you have informed me of quite the pressed issue! I will have to take care of it when I return...is what a responsible, attentive ruler would say.” She sighed. “Sadly, I will have to inform others and hope for the best.”

She has said in the past that she’s more of a figurehead than a leader.

“That’s a part of being young,” he remarked. “Don’t let it get you down too much. Just prepare for the future to the best of your ability.”

Sonia does giggle at that.

“Matsuda-san... Sometimes, you remind me of the male lead in a J-drama.”

“No comment.”

She laughs again. “In my humblest opinion, the best J-dramas are the ones aimed at women between the ages of 20 to 34. Just before Japan’s economic bubble burst! You would not believe how many times I have seen I Will Arrest Your Eyes! Why, when I first arrived in Japan, the first thing I did was run across the Spain-zaka!”

As fascinating as that all is, what gets my attention is...

“Hold it. Were you calling me mature or were you suggesting that I speak like an old man?”

“You certainly do have a worldly weariness to you, Matsuda-san,” Sonia went on to sigh. “Broody and broken down by life... While it would be attractive on the screen, it is worrisome and exhausting in person.” She perked right back up. “But have no fear! For a fairly dreamy maniac will someday come into your life! And the two of you can partake in the ritual entrapped within the blizzard!”

“I hate the cold,” is Matsuda’s only reply to whatever the fuck all of that was.

“Then when will you cuddle under a blanket in the nude?!” Sonia gasped, aghast. “Will you do so at a different temperature?! Is the blizzard not necessary after all?!”

“First off, you’re referring to a cliché rather than a ritual,” Matsuda said, waving his hand. “Shouldn’t the fact that it was happening during a damn blizzard tipped you off? Not every couple is going to go to the fucking mountains.”

“So...” Sonia quieted. “It is not like the Makango?”

The Makango? Matsuda remembered. Ah, the Makango.

“We don’t have anything like that as far as I’m aware,” he said. “Mind you, I’m...not aware of much...”

Thinking about this gives me a headache. Actually, it really, really fucking hurts right now.

“I see...” Sonia pursed her lips. “So peculiar. Oh!” She blinked, realizing. “Matsuda-san, you look pale.”

“Sorry,” he mumbles, rubbing his forehead with a wince. “I think... I’m gonna check out.”

“You should check out what’s wrong with you!” she exclaimed. “Do better for yourself, Matsuda-san!”

“...right.”

On that note, there wasn’t anything else to do but stumble out.

--

It’s another calm day at the library. Sonia, however, snaps up immediately when Matsuda walks inside. It’s scary how alert the princess is, but that was probably a good thing considering her situation. Matsuda sighed, waving and taking in how she lit up and eagerly saluted him.

He also takes notice of the book that Sonia had been reading. The cover—looks quite gruesome.

“How are you feeling?” Sonia asked kindly. “You are not in pain, yes? Matsuda-san?”

“I’m doing fine,” he said, stretching as he makes his way over. “I’ve been dealing with headache after headache since I got here, so I’ve gotten used to them.”

“I see,” Sonia murmured, downcast and sympathetic. “I will trust you to your own mechanics.”

“Devices,” Matsuda corrected without thinking as he seated himself. “Anyway, I’ll be reading. Don’t mind me.”

He does pull out a manga he brought with him—the library was just a better environment for reading than the cafeteria hence him making the trip. He cracks it open, but he doesn’t get very long to enjoy it. He gets maybe five minutes before there’s a nudge at his side.

He ignores it, but Sonia elbows him with enough force that he nearly yelps. With a now throbbing side, his gaze drops to see a folded-up piece of paper tucked between Sonia’s delicate fingers. Her nails are perfectly manicured yet polished to give off the illusion of natural beauty.

Hm.

He takes the paper, unfolding it and—

What do you know about the occult?

Sonia is feigning innocence. She’s scarily good at it. If not for the flicker of her intense stare to his, he wouldn’t have suspected a thing. That...and his side still...stings. Seriously the princess had a bony fucking elbow.

“Princess. What the hell is this?”

“Shush!” she ordered and he dutifully shut his mouth without a second thought. Sonia looked around discretely, lowering her voice as she leaned in to whisper into his ear. “Any information you have on cults would also be appreciated, Matsuda-san.”

No, seriously, what the fuck?

He does try to make sense of it. If Sonia felt the need to convey these questions inconspicuously, then, maybe—?

He takes out a pen and writes down his response. He hands it under the table for Sonia to read.

Do you think our kidnappers are part of a cult?

“Oh!” Sonia gasped. “I never thought of that! What a fascinating theory!”

Guuuuuuess not.

“If it just interests you, you don’t have to be so fucking secretive,” he griped. “Just ask me outright like a normal fucking person.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she apologized quickly. “I truly didn’t think the way I was conducting myself was...regal. They pass notes like so in the dramas. Is that not normal behavior, Matsuda-san?”

Oh.

“I...no, actually...” Matsuda shrugged helplessly. “I...guess that is in fact a way high schoolers communicate sometimes...”

I haven’t gone to a normal high school...or a normal middle school for that matter.

“It is quite—unheard of if not prohibited for a princess to have such interests,” Sonia sighed. “But even if it is forbidden, my heart still longs for more when it comes to the subject of Freemasonry! Oh, but it’s purely academic!” She looks quite serious as she insists, “I could never dream of conspiring against the government.”

“A lot of people do find that stuff interesting,” Matsuda said. Sonia lit up only to deflate when he added, “I don’t think it’s that deep.”

“No?” Her head tilted. “You think it...kiddy?”

“In a way,” he admitted. “Cultism comes about through societal failings and instability. Political turmoil, lack of education, paranoia, peer pressure... People long for a sense of community by nature and they’re drawn to a charismatic figure who knows how to prey on the insecure and vulnerable. People just want someone else to tell them what to do, what to think, like fucking children and obviously, obviously, they get taken advantage of by the worst fucking types...”

Sonia’s eyes were wide.

“Oh! Matsuda-san, have you been in a cult before?!”

Matsuda immediately jolted. For some reason, he broke into a sweat. For another, his head hurt so much that he wanted to shut down then and there.

“...Matsuda-san?”

He needed to grip his hand and will them to stop shaking.

“...I... No.” He shook his head firmly, digging his nails into his arm, would’ve raked them through the flesh if not for the sleeve of his coat. “It’s, uh, just something I read one time.”

“You are looking quite pale,” Sonia remarked worriedly. “I apologize, Matsuda-san. I—think we should drop the subject for now. I do not wish to cause you untoward pain any longer.”

She draws back from him as if he’s too fragile to be near. It’s seriously annoying, especially when not only does Sonia look stricken with guilt, she also looks lonely.

“I...” He swallowed. “While I don’t think much of it, I do think it’s important to understand. It isn’t productive to just...dismiss it wholesale.”

Sonia does perk up.

“I agree,” she says, albeit tentative as she does. “To dismiss a different sense of values due to ignorance is foolish. Such ignorance leads to bloodshed. And—it is important for a member of the royal to expand one’s knowledge.”

He nods.

“I just...” He wants to bite his tongue clean off. “I guess it’s a sore subject for me...”

But w̴̟̹̠͐̿̋ḧ̶̟́y̷̘͓͛?

“I understand.” Sonia nodded back. “I apologize.”

“It’s fine,” he said. “Just...do what you can to guide your people right.”

With that, he gets up.

“Sorry,” he said, acting on autopilot now. “I need to go.”

He doesn’t look back.

--

“Oh, Matsuda-san!”

As usual, Sonia looked delighted to see him.

“What a pleasant surprise!” she exclaimed, every word dripping with sincerity. “Come, come! Sit with me! There is much I wish to discuss with you!”

“Yeah?” The closer he comes, the more she can see her stack of books. Quite a few of them have been shoved away, but the other titles—there actually seemed to be a couple of romance novels and recognizable manga. “What about...?”

Those are titles that have been adapted into TV dramas.

“The friendship between men and women as depicted in Turn On The Heart,” she explained. “If you do not know that title, then will a different J-drama suffice? Perhaps one of these?”

She offers one of the manga. Her intentions are clear, and he truly appreciates the gesture—but he’s read that title. It was one of the worst fucking things he ever skipped through. The love interest in it was just scary. And he was a spoiled rich brat. Urgh.

But the princess really isn’t that bad. She’s really trying to get along with me. Not a lot of people have done that unless they wanted in my pants or something.

He’s not so fucking full of himself that he’d assumed a goddamn princess would be interested. That, and he’s conscientious of that shit to begin with. Sonia was just friendly, not flirty.

“I do mostly read manga,” he said. “I guess I could recommend a title or two that’s been adapted?”

I haven’t watched a lot of dramas actually. I’ve had them going on in the background, but that’s...

His sharp eyes do notice the titles that Sonia had pushed away. They were various studies on cults throughout history. And an anthology on ghost stories.

“Matsuda-san.” When Sonia spoke, her tone was low. She stood up and bowed, making him jump. “I wish to sincerely apologize from the bottom of my heart! If I could, I’d throw myself at your feet! Alas, it’s improper for a princess...! I’m so fucking sorry!”

“Wow.” He didn’t even know how to respond. “If this is about what happened last time, it’s fine. It’s water under the bridge. I...”

I actually—don’t remember what happened. I ended up taking a lot more pills than I should’ve.

“Still!” Sonia exclaimed, shaking her head. “I asked you a very inappropriate question! It was quite uncouth! Thus—I wish to make out with you for it!”

“You don’t have to do that,” he said, meaning it figuratively and literally. “It’s fine.”

“Are you sure?!” Sonia’s frown deepened. “I... Despite my status, here I would like to be equals, Matsuda-san. Is that not possible?”

Equals, huh.

“When I came to Japan, I thought I could be considered a normal girl,” she said, and it sounded like a confession. “Perhaps...that had been...immature of me.”

It is immature, Matsuda agreed with as he bit his tongue. It’s beyond fucking immature. Even if you learn the language and go along with trends, you live in a fucking castle, Sonia. That’s not normal at all. Normal people are one bad fucking month away from losing everything they care about. It’ll take more than a damn month for a monarchy to topple. Especially one that’s absolute.

“If you insist so much, can I ask you a question?” He studied the way she perked up. How annoyingly eager she was to hear it. And how he—“It’s not going to be a pleasant one.”

“As long as it is about my personal inclinations or government secrets, I am willing to speak about it,” she told him, smiling sweetly.

She really was so painfully sweet sometimes.

Ä̷̮̖͇́̅̅͝ ̷̬̎̽c̴̨̛̥̳̙̔̈̊ͅo̵͕̤͠ṃ̵̻̒ͅp̸̭͕̽͝l̸͍͈͎̀è̶̛̝̫̒͗͝t̸̗͒̂̐e̴̛̳͔̾͐ ̵̧̼̐ô̸̞͇̖͋̽̀́ͅp̵͉͗̅̍͝��p̴̖̙͑̊̒̆o̸̧͙̹̘̠͂s̴͈̀̕ị̶͇̅͛͝t̶͉͊e̴̲͈̩̫͠ ̴͔̺͔̙͗́̓̓̋f̶̺͂̚͘r̴̛̘̾͝o̶͍̭̯̖͐̐̓͛m̶̳͑̋—̷̱̘̩͙͓̇͒̏̋̉

“This isn’t your first time being kidnapped.”

It hadn’t been a question, despite himself. But a statement. A statement that drained all that sweetness from Sonia’s face, leaving behind calm stoicism. She looks so at ease and unshakeable that Matsuda could draw several conclusions if he wanted to.

But it seems tacky to make assumptions about what were traumatic experiences, regardless of those involved.

“I’ve read up on your country and there were reports of the royal family being abducted by insurgents,” he said, keeping his voice level. “It hadn’t mentioned those affected by name...but you were among them, weren’t you?”

“Yes,” Sonia spoke as if she were untouchable. “I was.”

“No wonder you’re so damn calm about all this,” Matsuda went to remark. “It’s not your first time. And...quite fucking frankly, this is literally the Bahamas of hostage situations.”

“Haha, I do not think we are in the Bahamas, Matsuda-san,” she replied, casual—but still with that flaring distance. “I believe we are in the middle of the Pacific, rather.”

...hah.

“That’s not important,” he snapped. “What was important was... Clearing the air, so to speak.”

“I see.” Sonia agreed with him like he’d kill her if she didn’t. “Then, have I been to your satisfaction, Matsuda-san?”

Matsuda stared at her. He reached out, and she didn’t even flinch. Not even when he snapped his fingers in front of her. Impressive, honestly.

She’s completely shut down.

“Do you want to talk about dramas? I kind of enjoyed Hana-Kimi.”

Sonia blinked, and it was like nothing happened at all. Especially with how she went back to smiling as she always did, dazzlingly open and amicable.

“I haven’t heard of it! Please tell me all about it!”

“If I remember correctly there were like, four adaptations, the first Taiwanese and the most recent a K-drama, actually, so...”

The two of them chat lightly like this for a while. Like a normal pair of high schoolers.

--

“Greetings, Matsuda-san! I have read the illustrious Hana-Kimi! And! I enjoyed it!”

“Good to hear...”

“There is much I wish to discuss about it!” Sonia exclaimed, but there was something strange. Her smile was so wide it looked strained. She was wearing more makeup than usual, especially on her cheeks and around the eyes. “I would also like to hear more recommendations, so...”

“Rough night?” Matsuda asked, and Sonia shut her mouth.

For a second, Sonia looked lost before she gave a weak laugh.

“Ahaha, I should’ve known that Matsuda-san would not be fooled. You’re quite sharp, after all. It’s one of the reasons I admire you.”

“Did you want me to pretend nothing was wrong?” Matsuda huffed. “I’d rather you not have to force yourself around me. With how shitty my attitude is, I’d be a hypocrite if I expected everyone on their best behavior....especially in this situation.”

“Truth be told, I do not mind it,” Sonia murmured. “In a way... I find it refreshing. Around Matsuda-san, I can just scream at the top of my lungs—Jesus Fucking Christ Bastard Of A Fuckity Fuck Bitch! And you wouldn’t bat a tongue-lash!” She took a deep breath. “That said...if we are to discuss further. I’d prefer we do so in my cottage.”

“Fine by me,” was Matsuda’s immediate response. That was all there was to it.

Without another word, he followed Sonia to her cottage. She led him inside, and the interior was so fancy that he felt like he’d be stoned if he didn’t remove his shoes right away.

Polished floors, elegant rugs, ivory silk sheets, and plush furniture—even a damn chandelier hanging about them... It at least looked like the inside of a high-end hotel suite. Even the way plants were arranged from the ones hanging from the wall to the potted plant in the corner and the vase on the table by a wide-screen television felt so prestigious and artful.

“Would you like a seat?” Sonia asked, indicating a loveseat that definitely costed more than he could get selling his ass on the street for a week. He sits down on it anyway. It’s annoying supple, and he can’t help but relax. Sonia is giggling at him, “I apologize for any messes. I am still getting a handle on cleaning as it were. And the shower.”

The rug had been a little damp under his feet. She must’ve accidentally flooded the floor. He should probably help her wash it so that it didn’t contract mold, but... There were more pressing matters.

Sonia clearly wanted to speak to him, but she was just standing there. Fidgeting and wavering.

“Nightmare?” he guessed. “Homesickness?”

“Both,” Sonia replied, chuckling a little. “As well as—that conversation we had earlier...weighing on my mind...”

Matsuda clicked his tongue but said nothing. Gave Sonia the time to take a deep breath.

“Back then, I was not permitted to show fear for my people’s sakes,” she recounted. “I was, after all, a princess before a person. But here... I do not know what I should do. Must I wait in silence for rescue? Shall I allow myself to scream and cry?” She was fidgeting. No, she was trying to distract herself from how badly her hands were shaking. “Say, Matsuda-san... You are...quite intelligent. And you never—you do not sweet talk. Tell me...what I should do.”

Matsuda stared at her. She kept her head bowed.

“Fuck if I know.” Matsuda sighed loudly. “Like holy shit, why you think I’ll know what to do? That’s illogical as fuck. You’re just being a coward by forcing someone else to make the decisions, princess.”

“I am aware,” she whispered.

“I’m not Togami,” he said. “I’m not going to seize control and tell everyone that it’s going to be fine. I’m...”

...not going to lie about that shit.

“I thought not.” Sonia laughs again. It’s almost an ugly sound. Scratchy and unbalanced, completely unbefitting and yet—perfect in this situation. “Matsuda-san, you may have the signals of a legendary hero... But, in reality, your scowling face is too remarkable.”

...

...

...

...

...

...

What the fuck did that even mean?

“The legendary hero of legend,” Sonia reiterated with the utmost seriousness. “The only fault with that—is your face, Matsuda-san! It’s not just remarkable, it’s beautiful!”

What the FUCK is she talking about?

“I would still like to take you with me to my kingdom, once we escape from here,” Sonia went on. “Even if you are not a destined one, you would make for a wonderful advisor and companion. I wish to continue our conversations—and even if it is cowardly, I also wish to look towards you in times of need.”

What the fuck is going on?!

“I...” He’s confused. He’s so hopelessly confused. And yet... And yet... “I heard the medical practice in your country is nothing to sneeze at...so I can’t deny being interested.”

“Splendid! Then—let us continue working together, Matsuda-san!” Sonia clapped her hands. Another dazzling smile, an even more radiant laugh. Just like that, she was back at peak princess. “Ho, ho, hey!”

“Hey, hey, ho...”

Despite that, there’s a lot unsaid. We haven’t really talked, either. We’re just pushing on with forced optimism, filling our heads with empty reassurances and promises in the hope that it’ll be enough to carry us through.

It could very well be. In a situation like this, keeping ahold of one’s morale was pretty fucking prudent. Even if he and Sonia knew shit all about how to lead, they had no choice but to keep stumbling and scrambling. Hoping for the best.

Sometimes... That’s all we really need.

[lovely-necromancy]

A Cure for Insomnia Ch 17

Living with the Cowell's is going about as well as you'd expected it to go. In other words it's more or less a disaster for your mental health. Which is ironic considering you didn't put this much stress on yourself when you were sure a stalker was watching you.

Maybe it had something to do with the fact that the stalker didn't own your house and wasn't in your personal space at every turn.

You'd honestly been expecting Little Jo to be the biggest space invader but Dia and Nate were constantly hovering around you. Nate had taken up the other spare room, or rather his room away from home, the minute he heard you'd be staying with the Cowells. He's made it his job drive you to and from work for the past two days and you both take breaks together now closing the store when you do. Then the second you cross the threshold Dia is right by you either asking for some help cooking or rushing you off for hobby time in the sitting room. It's like living in a 1920's story book, minus the extreme prejudice you would've faced.

It's only been two days and you can't find a way to ask for more space. You tried asking to go on a walk earlier and it turned into a partial jog with Nate. You really just need a moment to yourself it's been five or six days since you last had some 'me' time. All your nerves are shot and you are just a few minor inconveniences away from snapping at someone.

And it would not be a smart idea to nap at your boss. Your boss who's been so considerate and helpful offering his support to you through this whole mess of a situation.

Nonetheless you need space and your own clothes. Nate's don't fit you properly and they're uncomfortably itchy against your skin. His detergent is also very smelly, more in the chemical sense than in a bad sense. Though it could be a bad sense considering the headache you've had the past day from the over bearing smell. You know it won't end well for you but you desperately need to go back home and grab your own clothes and maybe even your car.

Having the illusion of more freedom would put you more at ease.

After all it isn't like you want to knowingly put yourself in harms way, you just can't stand the suffocation any longer. That's why you decided to bring it up during dinner, and why you are now sat in the tensest atmosphere this table has possibly ever experienced.

“Installation ain't done yet.” is Big Jo's gruff response.

It's as if that short sentence gave everyone premission to breathe again.

“I'm not planning to stay, I just need my own clothes.” you press.

Nate glances over to you before placing his fork to the side, “Then why do you need your car?”

“I'd just feel more comfortavle if I had it.....y'know instead of just relaying on you for rides.” you gesture around to the table trying to get someone yo come to your defense.

Big Jo pinches the bridge of his nose, it's been a stressful week for him as well. You don't mean to be ungrateful in this scenario but you are Autistic and the routine you've spent months carving out for yourself is being ruined. You are wearing smelly itchy clothes and need to have something you have control over. Not to mention you're the one who actively experienced the home invasion and were sat in a hospital for two days.

Big Jo can deal with you asking to go collect your thing, as far as you're concerned anyway. You're at least entitled to that much.

Dia puts her hand on Jo's arm and he sighs, “Fine, if Nate takes you. You can go to the cottage.”

“Tio, they can't have the car.” Nate is wildly failing his arms and motioning to you as he explains that you're a known flight risk.

Great, nothing's been resolved and you are back to a tense dinner in the Cowell's home.

“Fine I won't take the car, just lemme give it to someone to watch it for the...the what's it gonna be a week?” directing the question to Big Jo who's been handling the security detail for your home.

He gestures in a so-so manner.

“Yea, just lemme give it to someone to watch for the week.” you pause before throwing your hand up, “Because let's face it none of us have any idea where those two are now, and they could've easily tampered with my car.”

That was the worst possible thing to say because the second you finish you sentence the table erupts into chaos. Dia and Little Jo voicing their concerns over you driving your car, Big Jo and Nate all but forbidding you from driving and you trying to find some sort of compromise.

“What if we had it towed to Whistle's? Nate takes me there after work and we make sure nothing's wrong with my car.” looking around the table at the mixed reactions before you.

“I'll call Lewis for a tow in the morning and you both can go after work.”

“thank you.” you say relieved that you can finally gain back control over your life. Maybe get a little bit of space a long with it.

Everyone calms down and goes back to eating. The air is still so tense you could practically cut it but without your constant stirring it seems to settle. The rest of the night goes by uneventfully, you've changed into some pajamas and are ready to lay awake staring at the ceiling for hours.

The antsy energy you've been building up these past few days have left you without sleep. Tomorrow the hallucinations will probably start up, you wonder if they'll be worse thanks to your healing concussion. Hallucinations aside, your real problem is being alone with your thoughts for the next seven or eight hours.

You have nothing to occupy your mind with and thus nothing to help block out the invasive thoughts.

You'd finished the TAZ graphic novels while you were still at the hospital. The Cowells had taken you straight to their home after you got discharged, so you hadn't been able to grab your switch or any smaller art supplies.

Ultimately knowing that all this was for your safety and benefit you understand them wanting to keep you away from your home. The sight of you attack. Even a supply run could prove dangerous. Try telling that to your restless and bored mind. Constantly feeling like one of the undead wandering around aimlessly with no real purpose has certainly not done anything good for your mental health The lack of stimulation was definitely making it harder to mask and not just explode in  frustration. To just let loose and rage at everything: from the situation to your stalkers, hell even to Jo and yourself. The after the brief flash of rage it would be washed away by the overwhelming guilt you felt about being in this web and dragging everyone around you into it. Whether directly or indirectly.

Safe to say, it is not good to be alone with your thoughts right now.

And it is with that restless energy that your night of staring at the ceiling turns into a morning of staring at the ceiling. Until a knock at your door signals the start of breakfast. A routine you've recently become apart of while staying with the Cowells. Getting ready for the day you make your way to the dining room, not before steadying your nerves and static filled mind with a long and drawn out huff of air.

Not quite cathartic enough to be viewed as a sigh.

And with that you begin you day.

The morning fades into late afternoon and you find yourself in the shop a little before close, just looking through the isles. A vaguely human figure, much too tall to truly be an actual person, had brushed past Nate and into one of the isles. Honestly you're sure it's one of your hallucinations but you still have to double check the isles before you finish locking up the shop. Today had been really slow and you can only recall a handful of patrons throughout the day, though you haven't been with it enough to actually hace much accuracy on that statement.

Nevertheless you are searching for stragglers, thankfully you find none. Really hoping to get out and to Whistle's soon, then home to grab things that'll keep you occupied. Things that are finally yous; actual comfortable clothes, that smell like you too. Eyes blinking in rapid succession at your near giddy nerves.

For once your tic helps you vision, you're able to catch the book laid on its side. Its cover a deep russet nearly matching the shelf in color, you'd have missed it if it weren't for the inverted shapes that pressed themselves into your eyelids almost burning the scenery into your memory. Picking the book up you try to discern where it had come from.

Upon further inspection it appeared to be more of a journal. Half written in English with margins made out it – was that German? Yeah that was definitely German, the Eszetts is way too distinctive for it to be any other language. Poorly drawn out sketches littered several pages as you flip past them. Until you see a familiar but scrathy image. It's of a symbol a circle with an 'x' through it.

As you look at the jagged lines you can't really place where you've seen this symbol before. It's so familiar but the ringing bells do nothing to help you remember where you've seen this symbol. Flipping further in you catch sight of a drawing of a being that is slim and taller than the trees. Wasn't that the figure you'd seen moments before? Right as you were doing you check for customers? You're beginning to think this shop's haunted.

“Hey YN, coast clear?” The sound of Nate's voice stops you from inspecting the book any further.

Placing it back on the shelf and nestling it in between to larger books you turn and head out of the isle.

“Yea, no customers.”

“C'mon then, I don't want to be out all night.”

Rolling your eyes at Nate's exaggeration, Whistle's probably wouldn't take more than an hour tops and you won;t take long gathering your things from the house – you follow Nate out the door.

Waiting close behind him as he locks up. One thing about the attack is you've become hyper aware of your surroundings and are nearly always on high alert now when you're out in the open like this. Luckily in most spaces you had already noted the number of exits and where to find them. Having to plan escape routes ahead of emergencies might not be the healthiest mentality but it's kept you sane throughout this ordeal. Thank you American public school system.

When you get to the auto shop you see a familiar ticcing brunette talking to a group of mechanics as he leans on your car.

“Who the hell is that?” Nate says squinting at Toby who's practically laid out across the hood of your car.

Weird, haven't they met yet? Toby did hang out at the shop for an entire day. Had Nate not noticed him then? What about the picnic? Before you can say anything Nate's already out of the car and shouting something to the group. Most of the men standing around tense up as Nate storms up to them.

But you catch the dead look in Toby's eye, the other is still horribly out of commission. Honestly without your glasses faces blur from so far away but it's undeniable that there isn't a light reflecting in his eye. Nate seems to be directing his lecture to Toby who doesn't appear to do anything. He's like a big old house cat, tired and done with everyone's shit if they aren't actively feeding him.

Sighing you exit the car, your only real thought is defusing your Karen.

You aren't at all surprised when Toby locks onto the movement of you walking towards the group. The man perks right up and lifts himself off your car in one fluid motion. He's so agile, just like a cat. You can't help but smile a bit at the connection automatically reaffirming with yourself that Toby would totally push over a precariously placed glass of water.

“Hey, wh-mrrow-what'd you bring the car in for?” Toby asks side stepping Nate, completely ignoring the older man.

“Huh – oh, yea boss wanted it checked out to make sure it wasn't like tampered with – I guess. Y'know after the accident.” you know the mechanics probably know what happened to you, you do live in a small town after all. Gossip stops for no one. But you do have control over details and talking about the incident and you won't be letting go of that any time soon.

Toby's one good eye darkens as he nods, “Gotcha, well it's fine even had Jess take it for a drive. Drove fine. Fixed that weird clicky thing it did on left turns, you're welcome.”

Hah, during the drive through Franklin Toby lost it after two left turns. He noticed the clicking sound your car would make, oddly only on left turns, and started bitching about it to you. At the time you just thought he was being funny when he'd complained you needed to take it in to the shop to fix that. Guess he wasn't. But what's the point of fixing something so trivial?

You cross your arms and are about to sass Toby about how unnecessary that was when Nate interrupts.

“Well since the car's cleared we'd better go settle the bill with Lewis.”

“No need, no parts to replace plus my free labor.” Toby looks away from Nate and back to you “It w-w-was so sl-o-ow-w so I told the old man we were dating and I'd been wanting to fix up your car.”

Normally you'd protest a friend or anyone giving you free services but since this was on the Cowells' dime you weren't going to burden them anymore.

“That's sweet – really really stupid, but sweet.”

Nate's already moving around you two and motioning towards his car as he says, “Well thank you, now we really need to get going YN. I don't want to be out late.”

You nod to Nate, turning and saying bye to Toby from over your shoulder.

When you suddenly remember, “Wait, hey Tobias can you take care of my car for the week? I know it's probably a weird request, but I'm sorta “grounded” right now and can't drive till the cottage is set up. A little worried the battery will drain from disuse.”

If it weren't for the mask and swollen eye the confused sneer of his would be clear to everyone on the lot. He sputters for a moment before speaking up.

“Ok? I mean like that's valid – whoa – a valid concern...but your car's not that old. But I guess I'll watch it? I don't have Connor so it'll have to stay in the lot tonight, that ok?”

Oh this stupid beautiful boy just gave you an out. Probably not the one he meant to give you but you are taking it and running as fast as you can.

“Or, or, or-”

“No, no, and no. You can't be trusted to not just drive off in the dead of night.” Nate cuts in.

It took a bit of coaxing but after calling the house and getting Dia's blessing you obtained one night to yourself. Really it'd be one night spent at the lodge but it was still better than being a guest in someone else's house for the night, this way you're a guest at the lodge for the night. A little mini vacation if you will. And Toby seemed fine to go with you to the cottage while you packed a bag with your essentials, before you both go back to the lodge.

He even agreed to drop you off at the bookshop in the morning.

“Are you seriously going stir crazy after five days?” he asks as you pull up to the cottage.

“it's more their constant smothering I'm over. I know everyone's worried but I still need my own agency. Y'know?”

“Yea....I do.” he murmurs with a solemn look about him before he exits the car and makes his way to the front door.

Your steps falter as you near the cottage. A few flashing images pass through your mind before you shakily inhale. Fortunately Toby is right beside you squeezing your hand to remind you of his presence. You aren't alone this won't end like Monday night.

Opening the door the house is quiet and just as you had last seen it. Nothing was disrupted, even peeking into the bathroom where you expected a crime scene to be – only a toppled shower curtain and over turned bath mat remained.

It doesn't really feel like your house right now. A fuzzy sensation clouds your thoughts, like your brain is trying to protect you from connecting with this place after your recent trauma. Although you aren't sure how you actually feel there's a strong sense of discontentment.

Noticing how you linger in the threshold of the bathroom Toby gently guides you into your room, all without a word. Leaving you alone in your room to collect your things. You move around at a moderate pace, you aren't drawing this out but you aren't rushing to leave soon either. A handful of shirts, a set of jeans, shorts, and joggers later you are grabbing your switch. Before diving into your art supplies you hear a thud across the hall.

You freeze as if ice water had just been poured onto you keeping you in place.

“Tobias!” you call out not moving.

“Fuck – sorry I acc-ack-accidently kicked your trash can.”

When had he gone to the bathroom?

“Are you ok?” you receive a quick 'yea' in response.

Jittery and in no mood to sit and draw you pick up an embroidery kit you'd been meaning to rip into. Should keep your attention long enough, but maybe you should grab another kit just in case. Bag loaded with enough of your things so you aren't driven mad during your stay – you turn to leave but decide to grab your goat plush as an after thought before leaving your room.

Walking out and into the rest of your house you notice a lack of Toby anywhere. Going towards the front door you spot him as you pass the kitchen. He's messing with your garbage can before he takes out the bag and ties it up.

“Wha' cha doin'?” he's been a bit off since you both arrived but you don;t blame him. Not like you're fairing any better.

“I, I kicked it and a whole bunch of trash came out. So then I had to put it-it all back, but there's a lot here and you aren't gonna be here for a week....I, I ju-just thought it'd be better to tak-take it out now.”

Nodding, you're thankful to have such a good friend looking out for you. It would've sucked to come home to a toxic waste site because you'd left trash in the garbage for three weeks.

You probably just thought it came from the bathroom because of the echo or something. Paranoia's been a pain this past week. Maybe you should look into getting a roommate, they might help.

“They're not that helpful trust me.”

“Wow, did I say that out loud?” Toby nods, “Fuck I am out of it. How are you and Tim doing?” you might be deflecting/ignoring your own issues. But Toby had his own shit going on Monday night and you doubt he's talked to anyone.

“We're fine. Just fucking hate him.” the sharp jerk of his head keys you in that he's very much not fine.

“Wanna talk about it?”

“Who are you, my fuck-ing therapist?”

“Fine, wanna bitch then?”

He comes off the defensive like he realizes that he's talking with you right now. His good eye down cast after he relaxes his stance a bit.

You go to grab your kettle, filling it up and placing it down on the stove to warm up.

“Any preference on tea? I've got a few.” it was very much more than a few.

A chair screeches as Toby drags it out to sit down at your small kitchen table. He doesn't respond so you get one of your special blends out. This blend has rose hips which you normally dislike anything scented or flavored with roses but the ginger and cinnamon can normally over power the slightly floral sting of this tea. Plus it's made with the intention of healing the heart and promoting self love. A spell tea of sorts. Toby could probably use a little pick me up, you always did after a fight with a friend. Getting out the honey you ready the tea infuser into the cup waiting for the kettle's whistle.

“So just wanna start talking....or should I ask questions?” you turn to face Toby as you lean against the counter.

He's taken his mask off and placed it on the table, of course you remember his deteriorating face but it still surprises you to see it after a few days of not actually seeing his face. Maybe you'll get used to it and one day won't be so fascinated by his teeth.

“Tim's just a dick who thinks he has a right to act like he's my dad. Li-ike-like I'm twenty-four he doesn't need to constantly question the things I do. He doesn't have any room to talk to me about my mistakes he literally could've fucked staying here up for us....” Toby head had been snapping to the left several times during his rant and it continued as he got very quiet suddenly.

Tim could've messed staying here up? Did he mean here as in Kepler or the lodge? Barclay did have to break up the fight maybe he didn't want any of the trio in but let Toby stay out of concern for his condition.

“Hey I'm sure it wasn't that bad, I could even talk to Barclay to get you unbanned from the lodge.”

He takes the mug you pass him and spoons some honey into it/ It's weird to see half his face drawn into concentration since the other half isn't able to emote yet. Holding the cup in his hands he stares at the swirling steam rising up as you bring your own mug over to the table taking a seat. Not once does he look up at you as you stir in a bit of honey into your own tea.

Toby's neck snaps, “Am I...is it bad that I don't want you to?”

You send him a slightly pitying smile.

“No hun, you're upset. And you're having a totally valid reaction to a falling out.”

Toby rolled his eyes, at least you thin he did. Hard to tell with just the one.

“My therapist would love you. That's the kind of bullshit she tells me like all the time.”

Not knowing what to say to that you just nod as he continues to stare at you.

You both continue to talk, well you continue to let Toby rant about how stupid and dumb Brian and Tim are as you finish your tea. You still don't know the details of the fight but it sounds like the cause was just the last straw between the men and not the actual catalyst. According to Toby the other two tend to baby him or talk over his ideas and suggestions because he's the youngest of the group. Twice Toby mentioned Tim's paranoia and how that was really the cause of the tension between them. And how Brian wasn't any help because he'd always side with Tim to make sure his boyfriend was ok.

Toby was very bitter when talking about Brian's role in this more than Tim's. As if his role of passive bystander just sent Toby over the edge. Which from the way he spoke seemed like it's been dragging on for some time. All of this was painting an even worse picture of the smug asshole. Though you didn't break your silence or series of nods and hums until Toby off handily mentioned Brian getting him in trouble with his therapist by saying he was the one who started the fight.

“He fucking snitched....wait no he lied?!” Toby had to blink a few times before he finally understood what had gotten you so upset.

“Yea I mean it's not that big a deal. I was able to tell Clarise I missed a few days of my meds and she made me set reminders in front of her on the call.”

Apparently Clarise was sure Toby suffered from Bipolar Disorder, he was very flippant when he told you like it wasn't anything big. When you mentioned ADHD he kind of blanked. He got fidgety when you mentioned the symptoms you saw and  nervously told you his medication was working just fine for him. Not wanting to make him more uncomfortable you dropped the topic. Soon it was dark and you needed to leave to make it to the lodge for dinner.

“You sure you want to take the garbage out? What if Chonk is over there?” joking as you lock the door.

“Good point. Trash you live here now.” he dumps the bag onto your lawn and walks towards your kia.

“Toby!”you gasp out, which sounds weird amidst your laughter.

He stops and looks at you his expression more unclear than it's been all evening. Your heart skips a beat as you stare at each other for a moment, your laughter gone now.

“It's weird to hear you say 'Toby'.”

That's all he says before he grabs the bag and carrying it to the side of your house where your bins are.

The conversation in the car is pretty light in comparison to what it has been. Just jokes getting thrown around and sharing the gossip that you'd head in the hospital because nurses' can't keep their mouths shut. Neither of you know any of the characters in the stories but they're still pure gold. Like the man who came in after getting his hand stuck in a cookie jar. Nervous and scared his wife would find out he's been eating the new holistic dog treats. A few stories or more like vents about the auto shop got thrown in. By the time you got to the lodge both of you were in lighter spirits.

Everyone was ecstatic to see you up and about and made an extra spot for you at the table. You didn't miss how Barclay would rise an eyebrow every time you locked eyes. You just roll your eyes and continue eating. When it got time to settle in for the night you were planning to commandeer the couch but Toby offered his room.

More accurately he offered a chance to hang out with Connor which you readily accepted. The rottie was just as excited to see you, bounding over the second you stepped through the door.

“Sigh if only there was a way to see Connor everyday.” you say dramatically whistful as you hold the pup's jowls in your palms.

Toby responds in turn in a drawn out sarcastic monotone “Oh my, how sad your life must be. There's only one solution, marry me. So Connor can finally have the second parent he's always wanted” he ends with a scratch behind the pups right ear.

“I was just gonna kick you and steal your dog.”

He turns to face you, “I can't feel-”

“So if I kicked you in the back of the knee it wouldn't buckle?”

Toby goes silent before conceding to your point. A mumbled “Connor would avenge me.” is heard.

After you two settle down you both hop into bed to try and get some sleep. Toby was holding your switch hostage so you had no choice but to “sleep” now.

You really hoped he changed his sheets from the other day. You'd hate to find out you're laying in milk stained sheets. Pushing those thoughts away as your body finally starts to relax, you can feel when your mind begins to drift into the beginning stages of sleep.

“Tobes, you can crash at my place if you need to.” is the last thing you say before falling into a peaceful slumber.

Toby on the other hand wasn't able to get much sleep at all that night. He couldn't shake the feeling something bad was about to happen. And unlike Tim he didn't think it was because of you, it just had something to do with you. You were too kind to be one of The Operator's proxies, with all the clues of His presence in this town you were one of many red herrings. Looking over to you Toby only hoped you wouldn't get hurt in the crossfire. Not like Lyra did, he doesn't think he could handle something like that. Especially with how shitty Tim's been lately, he's on edge and constantly about to snap. He just needs a break from everything. Maybe then the weight in his stomach would go away.

In the morning Toby's keen to hold up his end of the deal and drive you to work. You buy him breakfast and an iced coffee from Dunkin' and a pup cup for Connor. The three of you eat in your car while you wait for Nate to arrive. When he does you say your goodbyes and head off to start your shift. Promising Toby you'd call once you've been ungrounded.

Nate's face is grim as you approach the shop, you're starting to get used to the cold sweats from these dread bearing encounters. That can't be a good thing.

Did something happen last night? Were the Cowells targeted? Was everyone alright? These thoughts and more swam through your head as Nate motioned for you to follow him into the shop quickly.

He locked the door and pushed you into the back room. His hast doing nothing to settle your fraying nerves as you stumble past the threshold.

“That Rogers kid, how well do you know him?” his eyes dart around the back looking at every shadow as if watching their movements.

“Who's Roger?” you feel out of the loop.

Was Roger one of your assailants? Had the police already found suspects so soon on what little information you had to go on?

With a groan Nate smacked his hand against his face muttering something under his breath.

“Toby, Tobias Rogers how much do you know about him?” his tone is rushed and sharp.

You didn't even know his last name until now. But maybe you had heard it before but it never clicked with you. Honestly you've known each other for a month that's not very long at all. But maybe it's long enough to learn some things?

“...ah not much?”

There's a panicked look in Nate's eyes and he does his best to control his breathing. But it's clear that Nate is either about to hyperventilate or go into an anxiety attack. You wonder what's got him so worked up as he reached into his bag and pulls out a manila folder.

He hands it to you, you can see the water marks left by his sweaty palms.

What on Earth is going on?

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

October 6, 2021

Heather Cox Richardson

Today, Senate Minority Leader Mitch McConnell (R-KY) backed down from his obstructionism, agreeing to let the Democrats raise the debt ceiling by a simple majority rather than by the 60 votes they needed when the Republicans kept filibustering their bills.

A quick recap: the issue at stake was whether the United States would default on its debts, which it has never done before. The threat to default was purely a political ploy on the part of the Republicans to try to force the Democrats to abandon their very popular infrastructure measure.

Here’s the backstory: Congress actually originally intended the debt ceiling to enable the government to be flexible in its borrowing. In the era of World War I, when it needed to raise a lot of money fast, Congress stopped passing specific revenue measures and instead set a cap on how much money the government could borrow through all of the different instruments it used.

Now, though, the debt ceiling has become a political cudgel because if it is not raised when Congress spends more than it has the ability to repay, the country will default on its debts. The cap has been raised repeatedly since it was first imposed; indeed, the Republicans raised it three times under former president Donald Trump. Once again, it is too low, and by October 18, the Treasury will be unable to pay our debts.

To meet the nation’s obligations, Congress needs either to raise taxes, which Republicans passionately oppose, or to raise the debt ceiling so the Treasury can borrow more money. Senate Minority Leader Mitch McConnell, who has voted to raise or suspend the debt ceiling 32 times in his career, including the three times under Trump, refused to allow Republicans to vote to raise the debt ceiling.

Although the ceiling needed to be lifted because Trump added $7.8 trillion to the debt (which now stands at about $28 trillion), in part with the huge 2017 tax cuts that went overwhelmingly to the wealthy, McConnell tried to tie the need for more money to the Democrats’ infrastructure plan. This was false: the debt ceiling is not an appropriation; it simply permits the government to borrow money it needs to pay debts already incurred.

But McConnell and the Republicans want to dismantle an active government, not to build it. They hope to convince Americans that Democrats are racking up huge debts—even though it is the Republicans on the hook for today’s crisis—and that they should not be permitted to pass a bill that supports children and working parents and addresses climate change.

The Democrats insisted that the Republicans should join them in raising the ceiling, since they had been instrumental in making it necessary, but McConnell and his caucus refused. Finally, with Treasury Secretary Janet Yellen warning that defaulting would crash the economy and with financial services firm Moody’s Analytics warning that a default would cost up to 6 million jobs, create an unemployment rate of nearly 9%, and wipe out $15 trillion in household wealth, the Democrats tried to pass a measure themselves.

Republicans wouldn’t let them. They filibustered it, trying to force the Democrats to save the country by raising the debt ceiling through a bill that can’t be filibustered, a process called reconciliation, which would make it harder for them to use reconciliation for their own infrastructure bill since Congress can pass only one of that type of reconciliation bill per year.

It was a remarkably cynical ploy, risking the financial health of the country and our standing in the world to make sure that a Republican minority could continue to hamstring what the Democratic majority considers a priority. Republicans have played chicken with government shutdowns since the 1980s, refusing to pass measures to fund the daily operations of the government and thereby stopping paychecks and government operations.

But defaulting on our obligations was a whole new game of brinksmanship. The greatest international asset the U.S. has right now is its financial system. To bring that to its knees to score political points would be interpreted, correctly, as a sign our country is so unstable it must be sidelined.

Midday today, Defense Secretary Lloyd Austin highlighted this international doubt when he took the unusual step of weighing in on politics. He warned that a default would “undermine the economic strength on which our national security rests.” Paychecks for 1.4 million active duty military personnel and veterans’ benefits for 2.4 million veterans, as well as payments on military contracts, would stop. Equally dangerous, defaulting on loans would devastate the nation’s international reputation "as a reliable and trustworthy economic and national security partner."

Democrats said they could not guarantee the country would not default, and they were clearly starting to consider getting rid of the filibuster, at least for this particular issue, to enable them to pass a debt ceiling bill by a simple majority rather than by 60 votes.

Then McConnell blinked (although he didn’t cave). In a scorching statement that laid all the blame for the crisis on the Democrats, he offered to “allow” Democrats to use normal procedures—that is, the Republicans won’t filibuster them!—to extend the ceiling into December. Democrats indicate they will take that deal.

There is one major takeaway from this manufactured crisis: McConnell was willing to come right to the verge of burning the nation down to get his way. In the end, he stopped just before the sparks became an inferno, but it was much too close for comfort.

Still, he stopped. Trump and his supporters did not. The former president has been pushing Republicans to use the threat of default to get what they want, and he was not happy that McConnell had backed down. He issued a statement blaming McConnell for “folding” and added “He’s got all of the cards with the debt ceiling, it’s time to play the hand.”

Trump’s willingness to burn down the country is ramping up as the January 6 investigation gets closer to him. Tomorrow is the deadline for four of his aides to respond to subpoenas for documents and testimony from the House Select Committee to Investigate the January 6th Attack on the U.S. Capitol: former White House chief of staff Mark Meadows, deputy chief of staff Dan Scavino, adviser Steve Bannon, and Defense Department aide Kash Patel. Meadows worked to overturn the 2020 election results and was in the thick of things on January 6, Scavino had met with Trump to plot to get congresspeople not to count the certified votes on January 6, Bannon strategized with other officials on January 5 to stop the count, and Patel was part of discussions about the strength of the Capitol Police.

The four are expected to defy the subpoenas at Trump’s insistence, a defiance that suggests they think he and his people are going to regain power. According to Glenn Kirschner, a former U.S. Army prosecutor, contempt of Congress earns a year of prison time; obstruction of Congress, five years; and obstruction of justice, 20 years.

The rest of the former president’s statements today were unhinged attacks on the committee.

A final note for October 6: U.S. District Judge Robert L. Pitman has temporarily blocked enforcement of Texas’s S.B. 8, the so-called “heartbeat” bill prohibiting abortions after six weeks, when most women don’t know they’re pregnant. The Justice Department had sued to stop enforcement of the law. Pitman stopped it on the grounds that it deprived “citizens of a significant and well-established constitutional right.”

—

Notes:

https://www.usnews.com/news/national-news/articles/2021-10-06/pentagon-warns-of-national-security-fallout-from-debt-ceiling-crisis

https://www.theguardian.com/us-news/2021/oct/06/trump-aides-capitol-attack-house-select-committee

Glenn Kirschner @glennkirschner2Contempt of Congress - 1 year. If prosecutors bring obstruction of Congress charges - 5 years. Or obstruction of justice charges - 20 years. https://t.co/1UXtetgiMa@glennkirschner2 Glenn, how much jail time can they get for not answering supoenas?

Deeheart4 @Deeheart99

2,055 Retweets5,855 Likes

October 6th 2021

https://talkingpointsmemo.com/live-blog/gop-sens-ready-to-blow-up-debt-crisis-in-nakedly-political-gambit

https://www.justsecurity.org/wp-content/uploads/2021/10/show_temp.pdf

https://www.washingtonpost.com/politics/courts_law/texas-abortion-lawsuit-decision/2021/10/06/ae70d946-22e7-11ec-9309-b743b79abc59_story.html

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

HEATHER COX RICHARDSON

[vampiregirl1797]

Long Time, Time to See

Jasper Hale x Reader

 GIF Not Mine

 Warnings: a little fluffy, not my fluffiest.

 Word Count: 6,556

 Click Here For Masterlist

 Summary: Y/N is a vampire that the Olympic Coven first crossed paths with after Carlisle created Rosalie. Intrigued by their choice to live by the same lifestyle choice, she stuck around for a decade, but eventually left to do some travelling on her own. Of course, she dropped in on them over the years, and over the visits a bond was formed between her and the Cullen’s—she came to see them as family. Despite her intense love for all five of them, she was closest with Edward, though she didn’t see him as family. Edward became best friend to her—though both agreed that term was pathetic in fully describing the connection they shared. While they were platonic for the most part, neither had qualms against satisfying their needs when the instinct arose, and it worked well for them because neither attempted to make it something more than it was. It’s been a while since she’s paid the coven a visit, so long in fact that she is unaware that the coven has two new members. How will she and a certain blonde vampire react when they discover that they’re mates?

 I didn’t realise how long it had been until I really stopped and thought about the last time I’d seen them. Time moves so quickly when you become a vampire that you just get used to it, it becomes meaningless because it has no affect on you—you don’t age, your friends don’t age, so what’s the point in keeping track? You have all the time in the world to see whatever you wish to see, and if your friends and family are also immortal then the same principle applies. Fifty years could pass since you’ve seen the coven you call family and it can feel like it’s only been a week.

 And it did. It only felt like a month ago when I was last with Carlisle, Esme, Rosalie, Emmett and Edward. It had been just after Rose had bought the curly haired boy to the blonde vampire, begging for him to be turned into one of us. I’d stayed for about a decade after that and remembered being happy as I observed the way Rosalie lit up for the first time in her immortal life—how she finally embraced the second chance she’d been given and started living again. It had been a relief for everyone—especially Edward, I remembered with a snort; Carlisle had been trying to subtly push his oldest and newest creation together for years at that point. The Doctor was wonderful at many things, but matchmaking was most definitely not one of his strengths.  

I’d eventually left them again at the end of fall in 1945, claiming that I wanted to see New York in winter. It had been a lie and it was something I often did. Even though I loved them all as family and I was sure they returned the favour, I worried about overstaying my welcome, and so I forced myself to leave before they could ask. I didn’t usually stay away for long, certainly not over sixty years, but like I said it was easy for time to pass by when you were a vampire. As soon as I’d become aware of how many years had actually passed, I booked myself a flight from London to Washington—just because I hadn’t seen them face to face, I’d still kept in touch via letters. They liked to joke that I was stuck in the nineteenth century due to my preferred method of communication, but I didn’t care—writing letters felt more intimate to me. In Edward’s last letter he mentioned that his family were living in a small town known as Forks in Washington—I’d been there the last time they’d settled in that particular town. As I drove my rented car to their house I idly wondered if there were still any werewolves around for them to keep the treaty with. I supposed I’d have my answer soon enough.

 I felt a sense of familiarity wash over me as I passed the “Welcome to Forks” sign and I sensed a wave of security wrap around me like a soft blanket as I caught the familiar sent that would lead me to my family. I’d truly missed them, and I swore right there and then that I wouldn’t let so much time pass without visiting again.

 It didn’t take me long to reach the familiar but updated mansion in the middle of the woods—beside some modern improvements it hadn’t changed much and as I stepped out of the vehicle I’d rented I couldn’t help but grin at the memories that washed over me. Teaching Emmett how to hunt. Helping him wrestle with Edward. Shopping trips with Esme and Rose. Playing piano with Edward. Reading with Carlisle.

 A happy sigh fell from my lips as I gracefully slung my bag over my shoulder and made my way up the concrete steps. I was about to knock, because even though I knew I was always welcome here I could sense several scents I couldn’t recognise and I didn’t want to alarm anyone, but a rustle of wind caused me to whip around. A grin grew on my face and I dropped my bag by the door before taking off at full speed, following the scent that was so familiar and comforting despite so much time apart. I knew he’d be able to hear my thoughts with more clarity the closer I got, and I thought about manipulating my shield so that I could shock him. But another scent had me thinking better of it—it smelled like he was with a human? I couldn’t be sure because the two scents were so entwined together, but I thought the element of surprise wouldn’t be best if he were with someone I could potentially send into cardiac arrest.

 I slowed when I reached the familiar meadow, and I had about two seconds to see him lying next to a very human girl surrounded by grass and flowers before I was suddenly on the ground.

 ‘Edward!’ It meant to come out as a reprimand, but that was difficult when I was so happy to see him.

 ‘Y/N!’ He mimicked my tone, pulling me up from the floor and into a fierce hug that I returned with the same enthusiasm, ‘what are you doing here?’

 ‘I can’t stop by to visit my favourite people?’ I gasped, a mock-offended expression forming on my face but it fell into mirth when he rolled his eyes.

 ‘Of course you can, you just usually give notice.’ He pointed out, winding an arm around my shoulders as we started to walk. I realised he’d flashed me about fifty feet from the meadow before he’d tackled me and I idly wondered why.

 ‘I didn’t want to scare Bella.’ He answered my thoughts, ‘she knows what I am, but she’s not met other vampires outside of my family before.’

 ‘Ah, you’re scared I’m going to bite her.’ I nodded, winking to let him know I was jesting when he looked concerned that I’d taken offence, ‘so you have a girlfriend. I’ll take it that means sex is off the table this time, huh?’

 He gave me a look that made me chuckle and after a moment, he joined in.

 ‘I guess I’ll leave then.’ I sighed, shaking my head in faux disappointment, ‘I only came for a good roll in the sack.’

 He playfully shoved me away, laughter on his expression that I’m sure was mirrored in mine.

 ‘Stop.’ His tone was still light but a seriousness entered his eyes as we approached the edge of the clearing, ‘I haven’t told Bella about you yet, and I don’t want her to get the wrong idea before I’ve had a chance to explain.’

 ‘It’s not much to explain.’ I shrugged, crossing my arms over my chest, ‘I’m your best friend that you have sex with sometimes.’

 His expression became exasperated, ‘I’m not sure she would understand or be satisfied with that explanation.’

 ‘She should be. I mean, I love you Edward, but I’ve never loved you that way, and neither have you, which is why the whole casual sex thing between us worked so well. We both knew it wasn’t anything more than satisfying our own urges, and it didn’t change anything in our friendship.’ I said, curiously looking over towards the brunette who was patiently waiting for him in the centre of the meadow, the sunlight hitting her face and highlighting the flush on her cheeks.

 ‘You’re right, I just don’t know how she’ll take that,’ he sighed, tucking his hands into the pockets of the tan leather jacket he was wearing.

 ‘Well… you don’t have to tell her, I suppose, but then you run the risk of Emmett or Rose making a snide comment around her when they realise I’m back.’ I pursed my lips as I thought it over, ‘you know how they like to tease you, and I’d imagine now you have a girlfriend she would be the perfect pressure point to get your blood boiling. I mean that metaphorically of course.’ I flashed him a grin that he reluctantly returned, ‘I’d be honest with her, Ed. If she finds out somewhere else, it’ll do more damage in the long run—she’ll think you didn’t say anything because it meant more to you than it did blah blah blah. Just be open about it.’

 ‘You’re right.’ His smile was soft then as he pulled me in for another hug and murmured, ‘I missed you. Don’t stay away so long, okay?’

 ‘I’m sorry about that, I don’t know where those decades went.’ I shook my head in disbelief as I pulled away, ‘but it won’t happen again, I promise. Now go back to your girl, she’s getting impatient.’ I gestured over to where she was now pacing, ‘I’ll let you introduce me after you’ve given her the information.’

 ‘Thanks, Y/N.’

 ‘You’re welcome, darling.’ The endearment was a habit I’d picked up in London about a decade ago, and I could see the amusement shining in his eyes before he headed back to Bella.

 I turned and ran as soon as he was back to her, figuring he deserved the privacy. Plus, if he was going to tell her about me now, I’d rather not be around encase her reaction wasn’t positive. I mean I’d basically had a “friends with benefits” relationship with her boyfriend for eighty years; I couldn’t exactly blame her if that description didn’t inspire her desire to meet me.

 It didn’t take me long to get back to the house and I noted that my bag was no longer where I’d left it as I climbed the steps once again. This time I didn’t think about knocking—I figured my luggage being abandoned on their doorstep was warning enough—so I just walked in.

 ‘Carlisle? Esme?’ I said, my voice no louder than what I used in a normal conversation. I was about to call out for Rose and Emmett when my arms were suddenly full of a female blonde haired vampire.

 ‘Y/N! It’s been so long, I’ve missed you so much!’ Rose breathed into my ear as she embraced me—if I’d been human my spine would have been snapped in half at the force she was using, but I returned it tenfold, beyond happy to see her again.

 ‘I missed you too, Rose.’ I told her, a surprised squeak leaving my lips when we were both suddenly lifted. But when his scent surrounded me I laughed loudly, ‘I forgot how much of a man handling brute you are, Em.’

 ‘Wow. Back thirty seconds and you’re already pulling out the insults, Y/N?’ He shook his head, a wide grin stretching across his dimpled cheeks, ‘I’m impressed.’

 I laughed again, the sounds of two different kinds of wind chimes echoing off the walls, along with a big booming laugh that almost drowned us out.

 ‘Is that Y/N’s laugh I hear?’ Carlisle’s voice caused Emmett to release Rose and I. As soon as I was back on the ground, I was in my adopted father’s arms, ‘I know you’ve already heard it, but we’ve missed you.’

 My eyes glazed over with emotion but I hid it in Carlisle’s chest—if Emmett saw he’d never let me live it down—as I told them how I returned the sentiment in a soft voice. After a few more moments the male blonde vampire released me so that Esme could hold me as well. I’d had to really fight to keep my composure then—the two heads of the coven had become surrogate parents to me, and their embrace always made me feel at home and safe. It was a feeling I’d never experienced anywhere else in the world, and it was something I never took for granted. I appreciated them and their love more than I would ever be able to vocalise, and I was always reminded of that whenever I returned to them.

 It took a few moments before I was confident enough that I could speak without making my emotions obvious. When that time came, I pulled away from Esme, smiling when Rose linked an arm through mine and led me to the living room.

 ‘So what have I missed?’ I asked as I sat in between Rose and Em on the sofa. Carlisle and Esme squeezed together on the loveseat opposite, ‘I’ve noticed the new scents…?’ I trailed off, the question obvious in my tone—new members to the coven hadn’t come up in any of our letters.

 ‘Yes. Jasper and Alice, they found us actually.’ Carlisle smiled at my surprise, ‘Alice is gifted with visions of the future. When she was turned, she saw the life she would come to have and after picking up Jasper along her way, they found us and have been with us ever since.’

 I suspected there was more to the story than that, but I also knew that Carlisle respected everyone’s individual right to their own background. I could feel curiosity burning in my stomach but I ignored it, knowing that the male blonde vampire wouldn’t tell me anything, if I wanted answers I’d have to ask them directly. And that was fine, it was one of the things I respected about Carlisle—he understood the importance behind privacy.

 ‘That’s amazing. Where are they now?’ I wondered, more than eager to meet the new members of the coven.

 ‘They’re on a hunting trip. They should be back tomorrow morning.’ Esme smiled and I nodded in response.

 We chatted for a little while longer about where I’d been, what I’d seen and why it’d been so long since I’d been back. They seemed to understand that I hadn’t stayed away on purpose, after all they were immortal too; they knew how fickle time could be. But as we caught up I could feel anticipation bubbling up in my gut as I thought about meeting my new family members. I wondered what they would be like, how they would react at my presence—if Alice saw the future did that mean she’d seen me coming? Either way, I was half excited and half anxious over the whole prospect of the introduction. I found myself hoping Edward would be back before then—he was my best friend and he understood me better than anyone, and would therefore help me feel calmer, but I also knew he was a little preoccupied with his human. But that was okay. I was a big girl and it wasn’t like I was being asked to set myself on fire. I was just meeting new people. That’s it. But I couldn’t help but wonder—why was I so nervous?

 //

 It was reaching twilight outside when I proposed the idea of hunting. Carlisle and Esme declined as they’d already been out earlier that morning, Rosalie hadn’t but she wasn’t that thirsty, so it was just Emmett and I.

 As most things did whenever I was alone with Em, the hunting trip turned into a competition. The one with the biggest kill would be the winner and as we began I felt the swell of excitement vibrate throughout my body. I hadn’t felt this free and slightly childish since I’d left all those decades ago and it was wonderful. Due to the circumstances, the trip didn’t last very long as we both rushed to find the perfect kill. In the end, Emmett won. He managed to take down a deer that was slightly bigger than mine and he was still teasing me about it as we returned to the house.

 ‘All that time away has really turned you into a softie, huh?’ Em goaded, his hand laying across my shoulders as he squeezed me into his side, ‘too scared to take down the really big ones?’

 ‘Shut it, brute.’ I rolled my eyes, but the smile on my face told him that I wasn’t really annoyed, ‘this is the first and only time you’ll ever win against me, so I suggest you bask in this fleeting glory.’

 He threw his head back, his signature booming laugh echoing off the walls as we entered the mansion. I tried to playfully shove him away, but the force required to break his hold on me would have sent him flying through the wall and I didn’t think Esme would appreciate it. He just pulled me tighter against him and started to ruffle my hair with his other hand.

 ‘Damn it, Emmett,’ I groaned in irritation and mirth, ‘get off me you heathen!’

 I heard a few other laughs join in with Emmett’s and I assumed that meant he’d managed to drag me into the living room—I couldn’t actually see because my hair had fallen around my face like a dark curtain due to his shenanigans.

 ‘Let her go Emmett.’ Rose chuckled and I breathed a sigh of relief when he complied. I brushed my hair back to where it was supposed to be and sent her a grateful look.

 I was just about to ask where Edward was when the sound of two pairs of footsteps approaching the house reached my ears.

 ‘Sounds like they’re back,’ Esme smiled and stood from her seat on the couch to greet them.

 Carlisle came to stand beside me, a hand on my shoulder and I shot him a grateful smile when I realised he could sense my growing anxiety. My breath ceased when they entered. Alice was small and graceful; her pixie hair cut making her look like a delicate fairy rather than a deadly vampire. Here eyes were golden and the excitement shining in them answered my earlier wonderment—she had seen me coming. But it wasn’t her that made my whole body feel like it was burning in the most pleasant way possible. It wasn’t her scent that made a tidal wave wash over me, leaving behind a feeling of warmth and security. Being on the other end of her gaze didn’t make my knees feel weak and my breath quicken.

 The vampire responsible for all of these reactions was stood beside Alice, his curious golden gaze on mine. His hair was blonde, wavy and cut to just below his jawline. His skin was covered in scars, all in the shape of teeth and the different sizes indicated they were from multiple assailants rather than just one. I wanted to know the stories behind each of them, I wanted to trace them with my fingertips and erase any painful memories with my touch.

 I shook my head, shaking away my wondering thoughts—what the hell was happening? I’d never had this kind of reaction upon meeting someone new before—like a connection had instantly been formed without a word needing to be spoken. It was odd. It was crazy. I took a deep, unnecessary breath and forced a smile.

 ‘It’s nice to meet you both. I’m Y/N, but I have a feeling at least one of you already knew that,’ I teased, winking at Alice’s knowing look.

 The small girl chuckled and bounded forward, wrapping her arms around me and murmuring, ‘we’re going to be great friends, Y/N!’

 ‘I don’t doubt it.’ I assured her, my nerves dissipating momentarily in her bubbly presence.

 When she pulled away and stepped to the side I felt my nerves return as I made eye contact with Jasper. He appeared to be concentrating on something and a moment later I felt a sense of calm spread throughout my body, that only seemed to strengthen as I took in a lungful of his scent.

 ‘Nice to meet you, Y/N.’ I had to fight to keep my eyes open at the sound of his voice—it was strong, husky and carried a hint of a southern drawl that made me want to groan. How was it possible for me to be this affected by him?

 ‘Nice to meet you.’ I managed a small but sincere smile that he returned. I had to force myself to look away, lest my breath stop again because of his beauty.

 I didn’t understand what was going on, but I did know that I needed some air. I couldn’t take an inhalation without breathing in his scent and that wasn’t helping me clear my head. That was making me want to leap into his arms and never leave. I wondered if his touch would make me feel as safe as his scent did, but I banished that thought as soon as it appeared.

 ‘I’m going to get some air.’ I said, hoping they didn’t detect the tremor in my voice as I flashed out of the house without waiting for a response.

 I made my way to the meadow I’d found Edward in earlier—it was a place we’d both discovered in the five years I’d spent with the family in Forks before I’d moved on. I remembered the night we’d found it—we were supposed to be hunting, but once we wondered upon this clearing we’d both had to stop for a moment and take in the beauty of it. It had been a clear night, allowing the moon and stars to shine through. Eventually Edward decided to leave but I’d stayed and stared up at the beautiful sky until morning; I’d always found something soothing about the moon and stars.

 Unfortunately tonight was cloudy, but that was more common than clear in Forks. But I lay back anyway, my eyes fluttering closed as I appreciated the soft breeze that blew through the flowers and grass, heightening the scents of the grass and flowers around me. My stress and anxiety had sky rocketed ever since I’d left the mansion, but being here and surrounded by nature helped quell it a little. Or at least, just enough so that I could think.

 It was interesting—now that I was alone, it was easier to separate my reaction to Jasper from the feelings of lunacy and foolishness that immediately followed. I suspected it was because having no one else around helped me separate it from reality, and so acknowledging the strength of my feelings didn’t make me feel idiotic or crazy. Instead it was easy to pretend that the way I suddenly felt connected to the blonde was normal. Even now as I lay in the centre of the rounded clearing, I was aware of the pull I felt towards him, like an invisible string now connected us together and urged me to return to his presence. That realisation should have resulted in the return of my earlier feelings, but instead I felt a wave of reassurance, as if that were completely natural.

 I had no idea what was going on, but I didn’t feel any urgency to question it in that moment. I sighed happily as the pull eased, and it took me longer than it should have to realise why that was happening. I’d been so lost in my thoughts that I hadn’t heard his approach, but his scent wrapped around me like a soft, warm blanket. As soon as I’d caught a whiff, I’d sat up, my spine straight as I focused my hearing to determine what direction he was going to come from. But apparently, my reactions had really been slow, because by the time I’d sat up, he’d reached the meadow.

 I took another deep breath, attempting to use the security that washed over me with his scent to provide me with the courage I needed to meet his eyes. But I chickened out and allowed my gaze to linger on the blue denim that covered his legs. I could appreciate the muscle definition even through the denim and the wish to see them not covered in fabric suddenly sprang up in my mind. I shook my head to clear it and noticed he’d sat down, crossed legged about three feet in front of me.

 ‘Hey, Jasper,’ I didn’t speak very loudly, wanting to keep my voice light, but it wasn’t as if he would have to strain to pick up my words, ‘what’s up?’

 ‘I was going to ask you the same thing. Why did you leave like that?’ he frowned and the sadness in his voice caused me to look into his eyes, ‘do you not want me?’

 ‘W-what are you talking about?’ I stuttered, had I really been that transparent in my attraction to him?

 ‘You’re my mate.’ He said as if it were the simplest thing in the world, ‘I thought you realised that when I felt your reaction to my presence.’

 My head was suddenly swimming with the information I’d just been given. Jasper was my mate? A sigh of relief fell from my lips, if that were the case then it all made sense. My sudden onslaught of feelings, the safeness, the security, and the attraction—I’d observed all of those characteristics as they appeared between Rose and Em. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t realised it sooner, and I was suddenly overwhelmed with such a strong bought of joy. I had found my mate. I’d never truly believed that would happen for me, that I would be lucky enough to find the person that completed me, that completed my soul.

 A sound of surprise fell from Jasper’s lips as I leaped into his arms, causing him to fall backwards; my arms wrapped around his neck and my face fit perfectly into the crook of his neck as I inhaled is scent. I felt his arms wrap around my waist and he used it as leverage to pull me tighter against him. A contented sound fell from both of us and if I hadn’t been so relaxed I would’ve laughed at the simultaneous action.

 ‘I’m sorry I ran.’ I murmured, my left hand trailed down to his chest and played with the buttons on his blue shirt, ‘I didn’t know what was happening, and feeling so much for you so soon made me feel like I was going crazy.’

 A chuckle fell from his mouth as he kissed my forehead, the gesture creating a surge of electricity to surge throughout my body.

 ‘It’s okay, I understand. If Alice hadn’t told me that I was going to meet my mate soon, I probably would have felt the same way.’ He assured me, his southern drawl becoming thicker as he spoke. I wondered if it was because he was relaxed, because we were alone, or a mixture of the two. Either way it sparked a bolt of arousal and I closed my eyes in an attempt to supress it.

 ‘What did you mean before when you said you senses my reaction to you?’ I wondered as the conversation replayed through my mind.

 ‘I can sense and influence the emotions of others.’ He said, his cool breath caressing the side of my face. I sighed at the warmth it left behind.

 ‘That sounds really… overwhelming.’ I pursed my lips as I contemplated that—it was similar to Edward’s gift in a way. Always having everyone’s emotions or thoughts just constantly buzzing in the back of your mind must have been irritating.

 ‘It was at first, but over the years I’ve learned to control it,’ his hand moved through my hair as he spoke, ‘sometimes it’s difficult, especially if I’m thirsty, but for the most part I’m used to it.’

 I nodded as best as I could with my head resting on his chest—I could relate to what he meant a little, and I told him so as I explained my abilities to him. I was a shield, which meant I had the ability to cast a shield around my mind or body, depending on the kind of attack I was facing. Edward had originally thought he couldn’t read my mind when we’d first met, only to be completely shocked when I’d felt comfortable enough to drop my mental shields around the family. For the most part I had control over when I would wield it, but if I were ever taken by surprise or felt threatened it would come forward and protect me.

 ‘Is it visible?’ he asked, curiosity shining in his tone.

 ‘It can be. It depends on whether I want people to know I’m using it or not.’ I said, rearranging our position so that he was sitting crossed legged again and I was I his lap, ‘I’ll show you.’

 I sent him an excited smile before I closed my eyes, concentrating as I willed my shield to wrap around us like a bubble. I felt the light on my face as it glowed bright blue, illuminating the meadow we were in. Jasper’s gasp of wonder made me smile and I pictured my shield rising off the ground by a few feet before I opened my eyes. I expected him to be looking at the glowing shield that surrounded us, and my breath caught when his golden eyes were fixed on me. I’d never been on the receiving end of a look so potent with adoration and awe.

 We moved together without thought, our lips meeting in a tender kiss that quickly became vigorous with passion. I had no idea if my shield was still keeping us afloat, but I didn’t care—a meteor could have hit the earth in that moment and I wouldn’t have noticed. I was completely overwhelmed with him; his intoxicating scent that was both sweet and spicy, his touch that was soft and smooth against mine, and his own skin that remained smooth despite the ridges that I felt as my hands slid down his arms. The moment was perfect and as our lips moved together as if we’d kissed a thousand times before, I couldn’t help the feeling of gratitude that joined all of the other emotions swirling throughout my body. Because I’d actually found him. My mate. My other half. And I was never going to take him for granted, because this connection, this kind of love, was a gift.

 //

 Epilogue: one year later, coming up to the newborn battle in Eclipse.

 ‘Honestly, the trouble that your mate attracts is astounding, Ed.’ I teased, twisting my body and allowing my arms to spin in circles like a child. I had to get the nervous energy out somehow—we’d all gathered for Jasper to train us on the best way to fight newborns successfully.

 I was excited to fight and nervous to potentially watch my mate get hurt, even though I knew that wasn’t likely—he was the most experienced in combat after all.

 ‘You don’t have to tell me,’ Edward rolled his eyes, recognising that I was only jesting.

 A few of us chuckled when Bella smacked his shoulder and frowned when she ended up hurting herself.

 ‘She’s going to have more anger issues than you when she’s turned, Y/N.’ Emmett teased, his booming laugh echoing around the trees as I flipped him off.

 We all tensed as the footsteps of the approaching pack reached our ears. Ten of them stepped out of the shadows and I wrinkled my nose as their scent invaded the clearing. My eyes narrowed at the sound of their growling and I couldn’t help the invisible shield that expanded from me to cover my family. I stepped forward to stand beside Jasper, my fingers entwining with his protectively.

 ‘Hey there darling,’’ he smirked, the southern drawl coating his words wonderfully.

 I didn’t answer; instead I rested my head on his shoulder, knowing he could feel my anxiety already. I took a deep breath, comforted as his scent washed over me. I wished I could bury my head in his chest—I knew his arms would make me feel completely content—but I restrained myself, as it obviously wasn’t the time.

 ‘They don’t trust us enough to be in their human forms.’ Edward translated from where he was stood behind Jasper and I.

 I rolled my eyes, sure to keep my shield in place—if they didn’t trust us then I sure as hell wasn’t going to trust them.

 ‘I have a shield around us all,’ I murmured in Jasper’s ear, my volume low enough that the words stayed between us—and Edward seeing as he could read our thoughts—the blonde’s eyes met mine, his dark eyes shone with affection and assurance. I sent him a wink before we both turned to watch as the meeting officially began.

 Carlisle stepped forward, his behaviour calm and inviting, ‘welcome. Jasper here has some experience fighting newborns; therefore he can show us the most successful and efficient ways of defeating them.’

 ‘They wanna know how newborns are different from us.’ Edward said, his tone lower than how he usually spoke as he relayed the wolves words.

 ‘They're a great deal stronger than us, because their own human blood lingers in their tissues. Our kind is never more physically powerful than in our first several months of this life.’ Our leader answered, looking over at the blonde next to me and nodding at him to continue.

 Jasper squeezed my hand and stepped forward, turning his back to the wolves without hesitation and addressing his family directly. I noticed one of the wolves take a step forward at the sight of him being vulnerable and I bit back a growl, knowing we were all safe even if they did try to attack.

 ‘Carlisle is right. That's why they are created. A newborn army doesn't need thousands like a human army. And no human army could stand against them. The two most important things to remember are, first—never let them get their arms around you. They'll crush you instantly. The second—never go for the obvious kill. They'll be expecting that. And you will lose. Emmett? Don't hold back.’ Jasper smirked, gesturing for the curly haired vampire to come forward.

 They faced off and Emmett grinned, ‘not in my nature.’

 I bit my lip, folding my arms over my chest as I tried to force myself to stay still. Seeing your mate fighting—even against someone you considered family—was something I still struggled to witness. I don’t know how the others handled it, but I assumed it was something that would get better with time.

 Emmett went to charge towards the blonde haired vampire and I winced, my hands moving to cover my eyes involuntarily. I waited for the sound that would indicate they’d crashed together but it didn’t come. I was confused, but unwilling to look until I knew the coast was clear.

 ‘Y/N?’ Jasper’s voice sounded amused and I couldn’t help but drop my hands to see what had caused it.

 If I were still capable of blushing I was sure my face would be bright red in that moment—Emmett was surrounded by a separate shield that glowed an angry red and had lifted him ten feet off the ground. I’d seen my shield appear to protect me when I felt threatened, but this was the first time it’d reacted to save someone I cared about being in danger.

 ‘Do you think you could release Emmett?’ Jasper asked, mirth still present in his voice.

 I bit my lip to hide my smile as I slowly lowered the curly haired brunette before retracting the shield, ‘sorry about that.’

 I sheepishly stepped back, hoping that if I weren’t so close it would mean I wouldn’t be as tempted to interfere. My arm linked through Rose’s and I ignored her smirk and focused my attention on the front. I hadn’t realized how protective I could be until I’d met Jasper and if he didn’t return the sentiment just as strongly as I did, I would have felt awful about it.

 Emmett was charging forward with brute strength, but Jasper was moving too fast for him to catch. He kept trying, but his hands met air, and Jasper managed to catch him by surprise and throw him to the ground. The curly haired vampire attempted to retaliate but Jasper disappeared and re-appeared behind him, his teeth an inch from his throat. I smiled, amused and a little aroused by Jasper’s abilities to gain the upper hand so quickly.

 He gestured for me to come forward and I laughed when I saw he was paring me with Edward—he knew I’d bring up my mental defenses to prevent the mind reader from having the upper hand. While the bronze haired vampire was the fastest in our coven, I was the stealthiest and evaded his grasps easily. Though I had a little too much fun letting him think he had me in his grasp, only to move away at the last second. Eventually I put an end to it, leaping onto his back, my teeth an inch from his throat.

 ‘Got you.’ I smirked and jumped down, playfully shoving his shoulder as we moved out of the way to make room for the next pair.

 ‘Not so good without your parlor trick, Ed.’ I laughed when he shoved me three feet away from him, his eyes rolling when Jasper growled warningly.

 We fell further back and watched as the other pairs fought and I found myself much more relaxed now that Jasper settled into his role of instructor. He watched the others and offered pointers to help their stance, and didn’t lead another demonstration. Eventually we reached the end of the session, and I could see Edward’s relief as Bella was practically passed out against his side.

 ‘They want to know if you’d allow them closer to take in our scents. It’ll make it easier to avoid confusion during the battle.’ Edward said, his arm tightening around his human’s waist the sleepier she got.

 ‘Very well.’ Carlisle agreed.

 Jasper came to stand beside me and I dropped my shield with a sigh, not wanting to create any tension if they tried to step towards us only to be stopped by an invisible barrier. It was incredibly hard not to flinch as each werewolf stopped in front of each of us, tentatively sniffing before moving on. I understood that werewolves were people and I didn’t resent them because of their species or because it was in my “DNA” to despise them. I was on edge because I was aware of how much they resented all vampires. I’d heard plenty from them since we’d returned to Forks a few months ago, and I hated it. But they were helping us here, so I forced down my unease, which was a lot easier with Jasper by my side.

 Being loved by the blonde vampire made me feel an abundance of feelings. In that moment I was aware of how he made me feel powerful, confident and protected, so much so that the wolves passed by without me even noticing. As we made our way back to the mansion, running hand in hand, I realized why I’d been so calm about the upcoming battle. Even before the wolves offered their help when us winning wasn’t certain, I hadn’t been afraid, because I knew I’d have Jasper by my side throughout the battle and after.

 As long as I had my mate by my side, there wasn’t anything that we would have to face alone. And there wasn’t anything that would survive trying to hurt us or our family.

[i-shall-never-repent]

If you love a femme fatale in MDZS, here is a canon one for you.

This going to be long post with pictures, please remind yourself that skim reading or read just half of a post and then kick a fuss is unbecoming of an intellectual being humans suppose to be. Any discussion after finished reading the whole post is welcome. Also I’m not an expert on Chinese culture, just amateur with passion, and English is not my first language, if any grammar, spelling, or context error have been detected, please let me know, politely. I’m always willing to learn and improve.

From my observation, there is not a small part of this fandom salivating for a gorgeous seductive manipulative duplicitous bitch. Please believe me that we already have one in the canon, even with a fan. Though the correct term would be a Homme Fatal, a male equivalent of Femme Fatale.

Some of you may think of this man [Pic Source: Manhua]

No, not him. Not Nie Huaisang. This is a plot device for shock value.

You may have ask, then it must be this man right, but he doesn’t hold a fan? [Pic source: audio drama]

Also sadly no, not Jin Guangyao either. This man need to a kick and ‘son of a whore’ commentary from Nie Mingjue to motivate himself enough to kill him, too masochistic sentimental and not enough of ‘seducing’ evidence.

Homme Fatal, by the definition from Wikitionary, is “An ultimately seductive and dangerous man; a womanizer.” 

Who fit this description most in MDZS? It’s this man, Jin Guangshan. 

Let me introduce you to the real sexy manipulative scheming duplicitous mastermind of MDZS. With a fan. [Pic source: Donghua]

Now you might want to scream, this piece of trash, a man whore, slimy power hungry scumbag of the cultivation society Jin Guangshan? Are we talking about the same man? Yes, we are. And now I will elaborate.

First, look at his face, even though it might be universal agreement that he is not a good man, his appearance and his mannerism are indeed a seductive handsome man. Let me remind you again that these are his children.

From left to right: Jin Zixuan, Jin Guangyao, Qin Su, Mo Xuanyu [All pics are from Manhua]

They are undeniably, gorgeous. Jin Zixuan was rank 3rd in the young master list, that’s enough evidence of his good look. Jin guangyao may get most of his look from his mother - according to Guanyin statue that model after his mother’s face but people still thought it was his - but he still has his father’s charm. Qin Su is a beauty, even though we know nearly nothing about her, and Mo xuanyu’s face is definitely not shabby. Jin Guangshan’s gene is indeed worthy of a Jin’s name.

Second, Jin Guanshan is a dangerous man, might have been the most dangerous one on par with Wen Ruohan, even he was the weaker one in term of cultivation, at least you will have a gist if Wen Ruohan want you dead, you mostly still in the dark and not even wondering on your dead bed that did Jin Guangshan had a hand in your downfall. 

People like to forget that this man was Lanling Jin sect leader, sit on the throne in the viper pit call Jinlin Tower. That sect full of backstabbing people, gossips, and a lot of maneuvering in the dark. I’m still curious how in the heavens Jin Zixuan grow up to be the man he was in that kind of environment to be honest.

I can’t remember that Jin Guangshan was the oldest one in his generation or not, but we could assume that he surely at least had a sibling of main family line, because we have Jin Zixun, a man in ‘Zi’ generation who close enough to main family to share the ‘Zi’ character in his courtesy name, raise next to the clan heir as a spare one, and he call Jin Guangshan “uncle” (Can’t remember which one between Bó Fù/older paternal uncle or Shū Fù/younger paternal uncle).

Which mean he already a winner of his generation, when the story start, Lanling Jin was his domain, he was the highest authority over there with no contest, we never see anyone from Jin sect disobey him. Madam Jin can only voice out her displeasure, but can’t do anything regarding of her husband conduct. Their marriage, arranged as they were, is what tied Jin clan and her family together, which mean her maternal clan also on a good term with Jin, she cannot kick a fuss, as a marriage in ancient time never a matter of two people, it’s a matter of two families. 

And he was in process of securing his legitimated son place too. He raise his nephew as a ‘second best’, making sure that Jin Zixun will not have any ambition to ‘go above his station’ as we can see in the novel that Jin Zixun is Jin Zixuan’s fanboy or his lackey, he always praising or cheering Jin Zixuan, behave obediently toward his uncle, like that was his job. Jin Guangshan definitely win this one over already.

Now, one did not become a sect leader of a Great Sect and stay in power by being an incompetent moron. His habits of sleeping around may disgust people, but here me out, this is not unusual for a man of his status. His affairs with prostitutes [i.e Meng Shi] are easiest to take care, by the contract of transection, therefore he is blameless in the eyes of gentry class, they could only scold him for being ‘overindulgent’ or ‘lustful’, and he always go for the best one around, so some people might even praise him for his taste. Commoners and gentry class ladies [i.e. Second Lady Mo] are different, sleeping with those gentry class young miss not only a pleasure for him, it also could be a great way of getting information and blackmailing people too. Because if he let the public know which young lady he had already ‘conquered’, his reputation suffer nothing, but the lady in question will be ruined beyond saving, that’s one of the reason madam Qin decide to keep her raped quiet. And the lady’s reputation is link to her family, they will do many things just to keep Jin Guangshan happy and not to be shamed in public. Or if anyone want to have a problem with him, they still need to look at the social standing he had, both from his position as Sect Leader Jin and his extensive connections from all parties he threw. And if you think he would care about non-cultivators’ opinions, you have mistaken, to quote Tywin Lannister, "A Lion Doesn't Concern Himself With The Opinions Of The Sheep". Unlink Jin Guagyao who need his reputation to be spotless or else he’ll get a canon ending, the only ones he need to at least pretend to care are his cultivator peers of the same gentry class.

Sadly, him kicking Meng Yao down the stairs also ‘acceptable’ by the society standard of that era, because it’s Meng Yao who ‘trying to reach where he didn’t belong’ in the eyes of gentry, illegitimate children, if not acknowledged, have nothing to do with their father’s family. Cruel? Yes. But nobody care, this even become a famous joke, enough that people like Nie Mingjue know.

This prove that even he was a handsome man with a bad bitch vibes, many ladies still want to sleep with him, society still on his side, what a skill to have in one arsenal.

He was the only sect leader - in the Great sects categories - to get along with Wen Ruohan or play his card right, compare to Nie sect that lost the previous sect leader to a blatant assassination plot, but could only endure, the Lan’s Gusu was burned, Qingheng-Jun’s death, Lan Xichen need to flee for his life and his clan’s legacy, the Jiang’s Lotus pier suffer a massacre, and then you have Lanling Jin who sit on the fence with no damage. 

Then Sunshot campaign happen, he let his heir lead the Jin force while stay at Jinlin Tower, he feigned ignorance over Nie Mingjue’s letter concerning Meng Yao, if Meng Yao die, he would have one less problem in his life, if he survive then Jin clan still get a soldier to be used, no big deal. And when Meng Yao become a spy, this also benefit him greatly, if the Wen wins, he could say that he sent Wen Ruohan a good tool and was force to join the Sunshot side, pulling “Look at how unwilling I was, the Jin not even try that hard you see”.

We already witness he jump in full force to reap the benefit after the Wen lost, Jin Guangshan is smart and skill enough to wait for the clear victory, legitimize Jin Guangyao to take the war credits, with a ‘Guang’ name to exclude him from succession line, with a connection to Lan and Nie clans via Sworn Brotherhood. The best of all is no one can publicly complain anything, Jin clan is the most intact great clan after war, Lan need money for their rebuild their home, Jiang need to be rebuild from scratch, Nie Mingjue lack seniority to scold a man of his father generation, Lan Qiren who is in the same generation lack a position to do so, smaller sects also need his backing to rebuild, want to be on his good side or risking annihilation when no one can help them. He rope in the Jiang clan by Jiang Yanli’s marriage, for the society, he is the benevolent man who honors the promise of two clans even when the Jiang is still in ruin, he is a kind man who help the younger generation, what a good father-in-law to be. Now do you feel that this man is scary? He come out of war, lying in his own house but still emerge with enough political power to maneuvering society, that’s an achievement on its own.

Then he look at Yiling Patriarch, his next goal. If he cannot control this dangerous man then let him be destroy and let him create the one that will belong to Jin clan. Not dissimilar to the opinion in Cold War related to nuclear weapon. First he sow a discord between Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian, play the insecurities of young sect leader who has no family backing, pressure him with society, even though losing his heir was out of the plan. He used his ‘spare son’, who has a great work resume for shady business, to do all his dirty work and supervise demonic cultivation experiment that if society found out he could have a perfect scapegoat, after all, it’s not surprise for ‘a son of a whore’ with ‘dirty blood and upbringing’ to be like that. Daggling his ‘love and legitimize’ over Jin guangyao’s head to ensure loyalty and obedience. Getting Mo Xuanyu into the clan also sent a message that ‘I can always replace you with any of my spare’. He let Xue Yang have fun with the Chang clan, a revenge massacre while tasting demonic cultivation experiment, win-win for then both, Nie Mingjue went to talk with Jin Guangshan on this matter but Jin Guangyao end up taking all the blame of his father’s conduct, wow. Correct me if I’m wrong here, Jin Guangshan was the one who order Nie Mingjue’s death wasn’t he. If yes, then his plan to establish Jin sect as the main power after the war is really clean cut, ‘get rid of the one I can’t control’.

Let’s be real, Jin Guangshan must be the best politician of his own generation, Wen Ruohan is too strong for this skill to be essential, but doesn’t mean he isn’t good (may be next essay then), Jiang Fengmian wasn’t a bad sect leader, but he just too mild for that political climate, late Nie sect leader was too careless in whatever spat he had with Wen Ruohan, and Qingheng-jun was a fail sect leader. Yes, marry for love must be so romantic, but then he just throw all his responsibility onto Lan Qiren’s shoulder, poor man, what a disaster older brother to have, madam Lan debacle must be a political nightmare. 

Jin Guangshan’s mistake was he overvalue himself in Jin Guangyao’s eyes, and underestimated how low his bastard son willing to sink to before rise up, but need to give it up to him though, poetic justice of his death is so iconic. Not many people can claim they die while doing what they love aren’t they.  

[stereksecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, kevaaronday!

For @kevaaronday. I tried to use all the tropes you liked, though I played a bit with the coffee shop!AU request. It ended up being pretty long, but I hope it pleases. Enjoy and Merry Christmas!

Read On AO3

*****

Food, Drinks, and Pings

Stiles just wanted to clear things up—he did not work for Hale Corp, and he certainly did not work for said company’s inhouse café, The Family Bean. He was a writer, who just so happened to have been roped into the gig because he was best friends with the soulmate-fiancée of the best friend of one of the sons of the company’s owners.

See, one of Stiles’ best friends from high school was Erica Reyes, blonde, vivacious, and both crazy and powerful enough to castrate someone with her fingernails. She might look like she just stepped off the catwalk, with her hourglass figure, fluffy hair, and red lips, but she had a knack for business that led to a scholarship at a reputable business school. Stiles, on the other hand, took to writing like a duck to water, thanks to his overactive imagination and ability to turn a phrase. He could write anything and so he did—news pieces, articles, blogs, reviews, as well as a modestly famous soulmate series published under a pseudonym.

Erica’s soon-to-be husband and soulmate was Vernon Boyd III, a tall, dark, and delicious drink of chocolate, who was so fit he could bench press a baby elephant without breaking a sweat. He was the perfect picture of seriousness and silence, that Stiles used to wonder how he functioned as Hale Corp’s Director of Operations. After getting to know him better, he realized just how smart and charismatic Boyd really was.

Boyd’s best friend from childhood was Derek Hale, one of the sons from the famous and powerful Hale Family, owners and leaders of the mass media company, Hale Corp.

Stiles knew of the Hale Family, and who didn’t? You’d be hard-pressed to find someone who didn’t know the famous family of business tycoons and titans, a family so rich they could buy a person’s soul even. Nor would someone fail to hear about one of the most powerful love stories that rocked the world.

Talia Hale was the eldest child of the main branch of the Hale family and was poised to take over the world. Desmond Fitzgerald, in contrast, was the only child of elderly parents, and they lived at a shabby, squat house with no electricity, scraping by each and every day. 

Talia’s father, the late and great Everett Hale, had visited the local community college as part of their charity program. Talia had tagged along, nineteen and already learning the ropes, and had tripped over the custodian who had been on his hands and knees straightening the welcome carpet.

Take a guess who the janitor was.

An accidental brush of skin, the burning of a Mark, and that was it.

Talia and Desmond turned out to be soulmates, and their Marks, her howling wolf and his crescent moon, had become one of the most romantic symbols of their time.

Now, where did Stiles and The Family Bean came in, you ask?

Aside from writing, Stiles knew his way around a kitchen. His mother had passed away when he was seven, and he had grown up with a Sheriff father who only knew the basics. Stiles had to learn how to cook a meal or risk them subsisting on fried everything and endless takeout orders.

So yes, Stiles knew how a kitchen worked. The thing was, Erica didn’t, and had spent high school eating Stiles’ meals and hanging around his kitchen. Nothing soothed her viciousness and temper like one of his desserts.

So whenever Erica was close to breaking someone’s jaw and risking a lawsuit, she’d invite Stiles over and he would come and work his magic at The Family Bean. It wasn’t like it was such a hardship. The place had a gorgeous kitchen, a full pantry, and a really comfy setup with cozy booths and colorful tables and chairs. 

It wasn’t only Erica who benefited. Stiles often found inspiration at the tail end of a whisk or in between beating a dough into submission while listening to Erica’s gossip. He had come to depend on her brand of sass whenever he was suffering from writer’s block, or dealing with annoying clients, or avoiding his editor, Danny Mahealani. 

It got to the point that Erica had HR make him a permanent guest entry pass—written down for Stiles S, Food Guy—and everyone knew him by name, the security, the delivery boys, the café’s actual employees, and some of Hale Corp’s employees.

That was what he meant by his original statement: He did not work for Hale Corp or The Family Bean. He was just Erica’s food guy and personal chef. Just another title to add to personal punching bag, platonic soulmate, best friend, and partner-in-crime, among others.

Boyd was surprisingly calm about the guy constantly hanging around his soulmate. Then again, no one would choose Stiles’ skinny ass for Boyd’s lusciousness, so Stiles could understand that he wasn’t much of a threat. Erica said that Boyd knew they were a package deal, and it helped that Boyd had been won over by Stiles’ banana bread. Either way, Boyd was cool and didn’t punch Stiles in the face for his and Erica’s weird platonic love affair.

So, in the end, that was Stiles’ life—work, his Dad, Erica, and his other friends.

Then the Hales happened.

It all started on a fine Monday morning with Kira Yukimura. She was pretty and petite, and the goddess who was actually the one in charge of The Family Bean’s kitchen. She wore floral dresses with studded combat boots, and held katana wielding lessons on Saturdays and a kids’ kitchen workshop on Sundays. Stiles adored her.

So when he walked in that day—after spending the entirety of the weekend not writing, because his protagonists, Peter and Wade, were being idiots—only to hear Kira’s cries for help, he was more than happy to tag in.

“I’m not crying.” She glared at him from where she was assembling sandwich orders, her gaze as sharp as her swords.

“But you still need help,” Stiles said. He put his laptop bag in one of the employee lockers, rolled up the sleeves of his red sweater, and put on an apron. “Erica wants to do lunch, but I decided to come in early.”

Kira nodded towards the window. “All right, because I got a purple ticket for you.”

Stiles jumped up. “Ooh, cool! I’ve never handled a purple ticket before!”

Kira gave him a relieved smile. “Well, today’s your lucky day. One of my employees called in sick, another is late, and I’ve got five packed tickets from different departments, three of them being rush orders, not to mention today’s purple ticket is a little too vague. I’m both swamped and stumped.”

“I’ve got your back, K.” Stiles gave her a salute and bounced over to the ticket tacked up on the holder.

Purple tickets were orders sent straight from the Wolf’s Den. It was the codename for the top floors occupied by the Hale Family and their closest associates. Boyd and Erica’s office were there, too. Stiles had only ever seen it through photos. There was a lot of security posted there, as if guarding the gates of heaven.

Anyway, purple tickets meant VVVVIP orders, note the number of ‘very’s. Kira usually handled those, but she obviously needed help now.

“Now, what do the Lords and Ladies want?” Stiles murmured to himself.

The Family Bean:

MH: hot chocolate

CC: pancakes

SHB: waffles

VHB: dirty chai

LH: anything 

“You know who’s who?” Kira called out.

“Yep, I got it,” Stiles replied. He learned about this from Erica.

MH was Matthew Hale, the firstborn son and heir to the kingdom. CC was his seven-year-old daughter, who everyone called by her nickname. SHB was five-year-old Spencer, and VHB was his mother Valerie Hale-Barone, the firstborn daughter, second eldest, and the lawyer of the family. LH was Laura Hale, the third eldest and the maverick of the family. She was the only one not directly working for Hale Corp, and was more involved their side projects.

“Purple tickets are usually like that,” Kira said, looking at him with amusement. Stiles realized he had been frowning in confusion. “Despite being insanely rich people, they’re surprisingly not very picky about what they eat. Laura, in particular, will eat anything. It’s just difficult to give them variety or find a balance between upscale and too simple.”

“And now you want me to take a crack at it?” Stiles asked.

“Sure. It’ll be in my name anyway, and I don’t mind if you go wild,” Kira said encouragingly. It made Stiles grin. Most would be horrified at handing over their precious menu to someone who wasn’t a baker, much less someone who wasn’t a legitimate employee. But Kira had always been a rebel.

Under Kira’s guidance, Stiles filled up a purple delivery bag for the Hales. The dirty chai latte was pretty straightforward, though he didn’t know how Kira usually made it, so he went with his own style. He also made a raspberry hot chocolate, strawberry cheesecake pancakes, mixed berry waffles, and, for the anything portion of the ticket, a berry breakfast parfait made of yoghurt and fruits and graham crackers.

“Tastes awesome and looks pretty as a picture too,” Kira said, nibbling on her own waffle as she sat atop the counter, swinging her legs to and fro. Stiles could see a hint of her soulmate Mark under her dress just on the outside of her thigh. “I still believe you should have been a baker rather than a writer.”

Stiles grinned as he hung up his apron. “I’m both, but one pays the bills and the other’s a hobby. It’s surprising how most people would think one’s the other.”

“Kira?” a voice called out.

Kira perked up and immediately slid off the counter. She straightened her skirt and stepped out the door of the kitchen. 

“Good morning, Derek,” she greeted.

Stiles peeked out unashamedly through the service window.

Tall, dark, and incredibly handsome, DH or Derek Hale was the middle child of the family. He was the Chief Financial Officer, and was said to be shyer and quieter compared to his more unruly and flashy siblings. It made sense why he was childhood friends with Boyd. The two seemed to share a calm, quiet demeanor.

Stiles had always thought that Derek was quite handsome in an already attractive family, and every once in a while, he would get front row seats—or the view through the service window—to the man in the three-piece suit with the godly shoulder to waist to ass ratio. It was quite inspiring.

“I heard Val and the others had a purple ticket sent down,” Derek was saying to Kira. “I’m on my way up and I thought I’d bring it along and save you a trip.”

“Oh, thanks, Derek. I’ll get it from the back,” Kira replied. “How about you? Do you want anything?”

Derek thought about it. “Just a drink. Anything you want to make me.”

“So long as it’s sweet?” Kira teased, which made the man chuckle.

It was like a bulb lit up in Stiles’ head. 

He met Kira at the door when she walked back in, and it said so much about how awesome she was because she immediately said, “Yes, Stiles, you can make whatever you want. I mean, you’ve already tried your hard at the purple ticket. Might as well go all the way.”

“Thanks, K. You’re a goddess.” Stiles bounced off to the machines. He had always liked a challenge.

In the end, Stiles added his specially made ‘very merry berry frappe’ into the bag. He made sure to put it in a cup cozy to hide the purple color. He wasn’t sure if Derek would mind, but it just wouldn’t do for one of the bosses to be seen with a colorful drink. He let Kira whisk the bag away and they watched Derek exit The Family Bean.

“I hate to see you go, but I love to watch you leave,” Stiles murmured, eyeing the man’s backside.

“I’ll drink to that.” Kira giggled, clinking her extra glass of frappe against his. “And you’re teaching me the recipe by the way.”

“Not on your life.”

It took eight days before Stiles could once again visit The Family Bean. He had had a burst of inspiration following his last visit and had locked himself up in his apartment. His Dad John and his editor Danny were used to these binges, so they had taken turns visiting him to make sure he was alive and eating actual food rather than inhaling takeout, junk food, and soda. 

He had sent off the first few chapters to Danny yesterday and had then slept for about eighteen hours, before Erica had barged in to make sure he hadn’t died. She had been pissed at him last week, annoyed that she hadn’t sampled Stiles’ berry-filled menu, but she’d gotten over it and had even brought groceries before dragging Stiles to The Family Bean for some fresh air and free lunch.

And if that wasn’t enough to perk Stiles up, she and Kira proceeded to tell him how well-received his menu was.

“The kids absolutely loved it, and Laura practically licked her parfait cup clean,” Kira said as they sat around the table for lunch. She had prepared honey sesame chicken, egg rolls, and sweet potato salad. She definitely had Stiles beat when it came to savory meals.

“Valerie was surprised that her dirty chai tasted great. She wasn’t biting people’s heads off more than usual,” Erica shared. She was running her fingers idly over her soulmate Mark, the three claw marks that spanned across her forearm.

Stiles felt pleased at the compliment, but he couldn’t help sending Kira an apologetic look. He didn’t want to usurp her clients and her kitchen. 

Kira just laughed. “It’s fine. I know it’s due to your magic fingers and secret recipes. Just teach me how you do Valerie’s dirty chai and we’re good.”

“Sure thing, but it’s nothing special” Stiles said. “I did bring dessert, as thanks for letting me play around last time.”

Kira bounced on her seat. “Tomato pie?” 

“With extra bacon and jalapeños, just how you like it.” Stiles grinned and showed her the pie, making Kira squeal.

“You gals eat up. I’ll mix us up some lattes, if you want anything,” he offered.

Stiles went to the kitchen to fix up Erica’s usual iced cinnamon honey latte and Kira’s vanilla almond. He was in the middle of finishing them up when he heard voices out at the main area. He recognized Boyd’s low voice and decided to make him a cup of blond roast with soy milk. He paused when he heard unfamiliar voices and took a peek out the service window. He instantly recognized the small group that had joined Kira and Erica.

There was Boyd, who immediately sat down beside Erica and kissed her cheek. His soulmate Mark was obvious, a rose on the back of his left hand. Stiles liked their marks, very beauty and the beast.

Having come in with Boyd was Derek, who looked just as handsome as he always did in a fetching dark blue suit. With him were his younger siblings, twins Cora and Cameron Hale, the artists of the family, who made music and art, played a bevy of instruments, and also drew and painted. Stiles was only two years older than the twins, but they had more talent in their pinkies than Stiles had in his whole body.

The twins’ Marks were one of the most popular, not just because the two were celebrities, but also because they were incredibly visible. Even from a distance, Stiles could see the compass between Cora’s collarbones and the lighthouse that popped up over Cameron’s collar at the left side of his neck. 

Suddenly feeling shy, Stiles stayed in the kitchen and watched and listened.

“Nice spread, Kira. Is that for us?” Cameron asked.

“No, you Hales have your own food upstairs,” Kira said. “I heard Wild Flour Italian sent lunch over.”

Cora rolled her eyes. “Jennifer Blake owns that joint. She’s been trying to get us to come over. No doubt she’ll just use it as some sort of advertisement. I’d rather take a bite of this.” She pointed at their table.

“That pie looks good,” Cameron said. “Can I have a bite?”

Stiles saw the gleam in Erica’s eye.

“Go on,” she said. “They’re good.”

Stiles watched as Erica and Kira offered the Hales a slice each. For some reason, he felt anxious to hear about how his food will be received. It had been nice to hear the rave reviews from Kira and Erica, but it was different seeing their reactions in person.

Cora let out yum-yum noises, which buoyed Stiles’ spirit. 

“Okay, that’s pretty tasty. I love the caramelized bacon.”

“Wait, is this tomato in pie? Like a tomato pie?” Cameron asked, inspecting his plate. He took a large bite.

Kira bounced on her seat in excitement. “Yes, isn’t it good?” 

“Who made this?” Derek asked. He didn’t look displeased, but he didn’t look happy either. He had a really good poker face. It might be good for business, but it was hard for Stiles to interpret. Stiles noted that he kept on eating the pie though.

“My Food Guy,” Erica said with a smug grin.

“Her Food Guy’s the one who made the berry-eautiful purple ticket that received quite the sensational reviews,” Kira added. She glanced at the service window and Stiles knew she saw him hiding there.

“The one who made my drink, too?” Derek asked.

Kira nodded. “The same one.” 

“Spence went gaga for those waffles,” Cameron said. “And Mattie couldn’t believe someone got CC to eat fruit.”

A loud ring cut through their conversation and everyone started pulling out phones to check. It was Derek’s.

“Mom’s calling. Time to go,” he said, standing up.

In reply, Cameron started shoving the rest of the pie in his mouth and also popped in a couple of egg rolls.

“Where’s the Food Guy, though?” Cora asked, head turning to the kitchen. Stiles ducked down behind the counter. “If he makes stuff like this, I wanna meet him.” 

“You can order a purple ticket if you want, but he’s not here all the time,” Erica said, and Stiles glared at her in his mind.

“He works part-time?” Derek asked.

“Not quite,” Kira said. “He’s—”

They were interrupted once more by a ringing phone, and this time Boyd spoke.

“Talia wants you all upstairs. Now.”

Stiles peeked out again. Cameron attempted to bring the entire pie tin, but settled for polishing his slice off. He then joined Cora in writing up a purple ticket order. After a moment, Derek put an order in too. The Hales left in a hurry and Stiles leaned right out of the service window just as Kira came bouncing towards it.

“There’s the man of the hour,” Boyd said, with a smirk.

Kira giggled. “Order up, Food Guy. You got a purple ticket.”

“I’m so proud.” Erica mockingly wiped a tear away. “Stiles, my Food Guy, charming the Hales off through the power of food.”

“Oh, fuck you all.” Stiles glared, ducking back into the kitchen.

At the last minute, he reached out and grabbed the purple ticket from Kira, ignoring the others’ laughter.

Over the next three weeks, Stiles prepared four more purple tickets. According to Kira, his drinks and desserts had become quite attractive to the Hales, both because of the taste and the mystery.

“At this point, they don’t even want me handling the tickets. They always ask if The Food Guy is around before they send their orders down,” Kira said. This time, she was the one helping Stiles prepare and pack. 

The Wolf’s Den was going to be holding meetings nonstop, so Stiles had to prepare a variety of drinks and snacks. It would have been easy if they had simple requests, but the Hales were a mix of eclectic and frustrating.

“I’m glad you’re cool about this, but the Hales are bound to find out that the one making all their desserts isn’t even an employee,” Stiles said, as he added an extra shot of syrup in Laura’s honey and milk iced coffee. Just like her usual orders, she had asked for ‘any drink that’s sweet’ which was such a large ballpark that Stiles wanted to clock someone over the head, maybe her.

“I’m more surprised that you keep making these for free,” Kira said.

Stiles shrugged. “It’s a challenge, and I like challenges.”

“Really, just for the challenge?” Kira asked. “Stiles, Valerie fell in love with your version of her dirty chai. I did it the exact same way you did, but she insists that it tastes different. Same with Cameron’s favorite spiced coconut coffee. Same with all the desserts you made for the kids…”

Her face turned serious. “Don’t you think there’s more to this? Don’t you think it’s a ping—”

“It’s just for fun, Kira. It’s nothing,” Stiles said, heart rabbiting in his chest. He pushed it down firmly. “Plus, it’s surprisingly inspiring for my stories. Right now, I’m writing a new story for my spy series and I’m trying to solve this thing going on between James and Quentin.”

Kira’s face fell but she smiled, if a bit awkwardly. “Ah, well. Whatever you say, Food Guy. I’m just happy I get free labor out of it.”

“So you’re the Food Guy?”

The two of them jumped up in surprise and they turned around to see that someone had come in through the kitchen doors.

“Nathan, hello!” Kira greeted. “We didn’t hear you come in.”

Nathaniel Hale was the youngest of the brood at nineteen, and with his dark hair and piercing blue eyes, he was quite the heartthrob in an already beautiful family. If that wasn’t enough, he was an athlete and a rising star in soccer.

Stiles didn’t really care at the moment, too busy wondering if the kid had heard what Kira had been saying.

Nathan leaned against the counter. “Everyone was arguing over who was going to pick up the ticket this time. I walked out while Laura was arm wrestling with Cam.”

Kira laughed while Stiles looked away, suddenly awkward.

“Uh, that’s cool and all, but I’m not remotely interesting enough to warrant an arm wrestle.”

Nathan shrugged. “Your stuff tastes amazing.” He smiled at Kira. “No offense, Kira. You’re still queen. But you… you’re interesting.” He gave Stiles a look. “You know, I’ve been ordering the same caramel vanilla iced coffee from The Family Bean for years now. You made it once and now everything else tastes different.”

Stiles couldn’t help flinching. Oh yeah. Nathan had definitely heard Kira.

But Nathan turned to Kira, breaking the stare. “Anyway, is the ticket ready? Can I take it up?”

Kira smiled and handed over the bag. “You just want to lord your victory over the others.”

“Of course. That’s what having siblings is all about.” Nathan scoffed, but grinned. “Anyway, thanks.” 

Kira smiled. “Enjoy your meal.”

Stiles watched Nathan leave and rubbed his left shoulder. He had a weird feeling about all this.

A single touch was all it took to find someone’s soulmate. However, people couldn’t just go around touching one another. Some did, but there were laws against touching people without their consent. So Nature, in all its wisdom, gave people the capability to locate their soulmates by following a trail.

The best trail was through family members. Take for example one other famous Hale love story, that of Valerie. Her husband, the Italian magnate Piero Barone, was from a family of vintners. During Talia and Desmond’s trip to Italy, they met Piero at a wine tasting event and immediately felt what Mark experts called a ‘ping,’ a connection between them that hinted at the identity of Piero’s soulmate. Piero followed the Hales to America, met the family—all of which gave off similar pings—was finally allowed a Touch Test with Valerie, and the rest was history.

There were other kinds of trails, like what happened between Boyd and Erica. They both attended the same university, though Boyd had graduated several years earlier. However, even without knowing Boyd, Erica inadvertently joined the same groups and organizations that he had, and even lived at the same apartment that he had rented when he had been a student. Then after Erica graduated, she decided to take a year off to travel. Months later, when Boyd went on sabbatical, he ended up following almost the exact same itinerary. They finally met by chance during an alumni event and got to talking, which revealed all of the things they had in common. Before the event was even halfway through, they had done a Touch Test and found their match.

Stiles’ favorite trail story was of his parents’. John and Claudia met when they were children. Having no siblings, they didn’t have the benefit of a family trail, and being young meant there weren’t a lot of experiences that could link them. However, they had always known there was something special about one another. They grew up together, grew apart, and met later on in life. They still didn’t have the same life experiences—she was a librarian, he was a deputy—but the moment they saw one another again, they just knew.

Sometimes people just knew.

“Well, well, well. I didn’t know we were serving twink in the menu.”

Ordinarily, that comment would have had Stiles lashing out with his sharp tongue, but upon looking up, he hesitated. First of all, the other person was clearly drunk and it was only, Stiles checked his watch, three-forty-seven in the afternoon. Second, the other person was none other than the infamous Peter Hale, Talia’s younger brother.

The eternal bachelor, he was called, well known for his many dalliances and relationships. He was also the Hale with the most well-known Mark, not because it was at a visible spot, but mostly because he tended to flaunt the large image of a bird in flight that was across his chest via his tendency of wearing unbuttoned shirts.

In Stiles’ opinion, Peter reminded him of one of his book characters—the rich and powerful Anthony, who, underneath all the bravado, was desperately looking for his soulmate, only to find it in the fair-haired, gentle-hearted Steven, who wouldn’t take his crap. He wondered who Peter’s soulmate was.

“Oh, for god’s sake. Uncle, come back here!”

Stiles looked up to see Derek jogging over to them, looking both pissed and worried at the man leaning against The Family Bean’s pristine counter.

Peter ignored him. “Oh, lay off, Derek. I want a drink, and this twink is going to make me one.”

Derek turned to Stiles. “Peter, do not call—” He paused, dark eyes widening.

Stiles felt his heart jerk in his chest and his left shoulder burn. He felt like he had been hit in the head, so did Derek going by his gaping.

Peter suddenly tilted sideways, interrupting their stare down. Neither Stiles nor Derek were able to catch the man before he ended up sprawled across the counter. The sight of him had Stiles dredging up some semblance of control. He sighed.

“You are very rude, and also very drunk, but because I feel sorry for you, Mr. Hale, I’ll make you a free drink.”

Derek let out a gurgle and then a cough, obviously holding back laughter. Peter propped himself up on wobbly elbows. 

“You feel sorry for me? Don’t you know who I am, kid?”

Stiles was both annoyed by Peter and buoyed by Derek’s reaction. It was probably what sharpened his tongue.

“You’re Talia Hale’s younger brother, but between the supposed—ahh, what was it—Big Bad Wolf of Media and this so-called twink, I’m not the one nursing a hangover at this time of the afternoon.”

Stiles shook his head and walked off, ignoring Peter’s angry, garbled words and the sudden chuckle from Derek. The latter made Stiles’ shoulder ache.

Stiles ignored that and prepared a quick takeout bag. He could hear Peter and Derek arguing out on the main area. It was the work of minutes to prepare a quick smoothie and throw in some crackers and fruits. He walked back out and handed the bag to Derek, but then quickly tucked his hands to himself. The other man’s piercing stare was making him sweat.

Peter grabbed his drink and took a gulp of the smoothie, before asking, “What’s your name, kid?”

Stiles rolled his eyes. Not even a thank you. How rude. 

“Not a kid, and there’s no need to know my name since you’re just going to forget it.”

Peter smirked lasciviously. “Oh, that mouth on you.”

“I’m also not into geriatrics,” Stiles was quick to bite back.

Peter’s jaw dropped. “Geria—”

Derek suddenly burst into laughter and the sound of it seemed to fill Stiles’ heart and mind, making his face flush and his body warm. Derek smiled at him and Stiles felt warmth bloom in his chest.

Stiles cleared his throat, trying to will the blush away. He rubbed his shoulder. “Well, anyway, I’m happy to help. I’ll tell Kira you guys dropped by. See you around.” He glanced at Peter. “Not you. Drop dead.” He stepped back.

“Wait!” Derek lurched forward, startling Stiles and also Peter, who, true to Stiles’ words, slid off the counter to the floor. They ignored him.

Derek leaned forward over the counter. “I’m sorry if I’m forward, but are you—”

Stiles shook his head vigorously. “I’m sorry. I have to go.” 

He ducked back into the kitchen, ignoring Derek’s calls and Peter’s drunken warbling. He leaned against the door and slid down until he could curl up into a ball. He placed a hand over his burning shoulder.

Sometimes people just knew.

Stiles was tempted to stay away from The Family Bean after that. He really wanted to. But it was hard to stay away.

Even harder to stay away from a ping.

Stiles wasn’t stupid enough to let that slip away.

Still, it was hard to face up to it and admit that he had a soulmate.

So for the next two weeks, Stiles stayed away from the front of house, always hiding in the safety of the kitchen. He kept on making purple tickets whenever they came, but he avoided coming out for any reason, especially after Derek started coming by nearly every day. Sometimes he even brought his work over just so that he could stay as long as possible.

It confused Kira and Erica, but they assumed Derek just liked the food. The other Hales also started coming by and many times, Stiles could hear them asking Derek why he was hanging around The Family Bean instead of working in his office. Always, Derek kept mum.

Because as it turned out, Derek hadn’t told anyone about the ping.

In fact, Stiles had a feeling that the only person in the Hale family who knew was Nathan. Maybe because he had already been suspicious of it. Out of all the Hales, he was the only one who didn’t ask Derek about why he kept hanging around the café.

The other one who knew was Boyd.

Derek had been called to a meeting one day, so Stiles had felt it safe to come out and work at one of the booths. He had already fallen so far behind on his writing commitments. After a few minutes, Boyd had dropped by and had joined him. Stiles knew he was typing gibberish on his laptop, but he kept on as an excuse not to look at Boyd, who was looking at him intently.

Finally, he spoke, “Looking back, I guess it wasn’t just your banana bread that won me over.”

Stiles jerked, sending a series of characters across the screen.

Boyd kept on. “I always had a good feeling about you from Erica’s stories, but when we met, that was definitely a ping.”

Stiles bit his lip. “Does Erica know?”

Boyd shook his head. “I love her, but Erica would have thrown a party if she knew.”

Stiles sighed, both in relief and in trepidation for the moment Erica find out.

Boyd studied him. “Derek’s a good guy, you know.”

“I know I got that impression from all the stories you and Erica had of him,” Stiles said. “I always thought it was surprising considering he could afford not to be a nice guy.”

Boyd studied him, making Stiles shift in his seat. “Is that the reason you won’t meet with him? Or do a Touch Test? Because he’s a Hale?”

Stiles almost protested, but he deflated. “…I don’t know.”

Boyd hummed under his breath. “Well, you’ve always played your cards close to the chest when it comes to soulmates, but I know you’ll figure it out.” He stood up. “But you better make it soon. Erica and the rest of the Hales are bound to figure it out.”

Stiles groaned and sank down on his seat. 

“Noted.”

The day after that, a still-conflicted Stiles was once again at The Family Bean. Kira had gone up to the Wolf’s Den to deliver the latest purple ticket, so he had to stay and man the counter. 

The door let out a little tinkle, and Stiles froze the moment he saw the woman entering the café.

He’d know Talia Hale anywhere.

Stiles almost panicked, but then he remembered that she didn’t know who he was. He took a deep breath.

“Um, good afternoon, Mrs. Hale. What can I get you?”

The woman smiled, quite warm and friendly despite her fierce reputation. “Just some tea, please. And are there any new desserts?”

It had been a moment of weakness, but Stiles had actually brought over some peanut butter stuffed cookies and added it to the purple ticket in the hopes that a certain Hale would like them. He still had a few cookies left, but he wasn’t sure if he should offer them to her.

“I smell cookies,” Talia said pointedly. “I’ll have some of those.”

Stiles gulped. “Ah, we have some peanut butter stuffed cookies. Let me get those for you.”

He swallowed his nerves and served the woman, who took a sip of tea and a bite of the cookie right there on the counter.

She smiled, studying the cookies. “Very tasty.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” Stiles smiled politely. He turned away to leave and maybe gather his strength in the privacy of the kitchen.

“When we started hearing about The Food Guy, I admit I was quite intrigued. It’s very rare for someone to grab the attention of my entire family.”

Stiles paused and turned to her.

He should have known.

Stiles nodded stiffly. “Nice to meet you, ma’am.”

Talia smiled, sharp and knowing. “And you, Food Guy.”

“Any reason for the visit?” Stiles asked, shifting on his feet.

“I wanted to meet you,” Talia said, taking another bite of her cookie. 

Stiles frowned. “That’s all?”

“Were you expecting anything else?”

“Uh, well, I…”

Talia shrugged and sipped his tea. “I don’t blame you for any misgivings you might have should you prove to be soulmates with my son. I’m well aware of the reputation of my family. My late father, Everett, embodied the might of the Hale name better than anyone. You should have seen him back in the days.”

Stiles held up his hands. He couldn’t help the feeling that he had to explain.

“It’s not that there’s a problem with Derek or your family. Being a Hale isn’t the problem… not entirely…” he hesitated, but then plunged on, urged by the ping he could feel inside him and the desire to make someone understand. “My mom passed away when I was seven. She was soulmates with my father. He was—I was—we were never the same after.”

A heavy silence fell, and Stiles was both nervous and intrigued. Talia’s face changed. Something in her eyes darkened and she pursed her lips.

“Forgive my sudden melancholy, but I was just reminded of something.” She sipped her tea. “I was reminded of my youth. My father, Peter, and I had never been the same after mother walked away.”

“Walked away?” Stiles was taken aback. It was rare to hear any mention of Talia’s mother, but everyone had chalked it up to grief at her passing. “But you all said she died—”

Talia interrupted him delicately. “People think of Marks as the be all and end all where the only answer is yes. But even soulmates are a choice…”

“Desmond grew up without a penny to his name, so he rejected me as he could only see himself as an embarrassment to the Hale family. My opinionated father had, unfortunately, been a contributing factor to that line of thinking. I grew up with a rather jaded view of Marks and pings, and I had seen his rejection as a challenge and not a privilege. Desmond and I, our story had been tempestuous, quite unlike the romanticizing people had done.”

She finished the last of her tea. “If I may be allowed to request one thing, all I ask is that you make a choice so that Derek can do the same. No one in this family will certainly blame you for it.”

Talia pushed her empty cup and plate towards Stiles, and smiled. “Have a good day, Food Guy.”

Stiles watched Talia walk away.

He had some thinking to do.

Stiles took a deep breath and tried not to crush the boxes in his hands. He was nervous and his left shoulder was throbbing.

“Ready?” Kira asked him. She was carrying the other delivery boxes.

“As I’ll ever be,” Stiles replied.

Kira smiled, both encouraging and proud, and nodded to the guard on duty. The man held open the double doors for them, and Stiles was instantly met with a wall of sound.

“Purple ticket delivery,” Kira called out, leading Stiles inside.

The office was spacious, as it should be if it was going to accommodate all of the Hales, and all of them were there. There was a long table at one end where Talia, Matthew, and Boyd were talking and laughing. Desmond was on one couch, talking to Piero and Erica. Laura and Cora were seated on armchairs and were arguing loudly about something. Peter was egging them on. CC and Spencer, were seated in front of a television at a kids’ play area set up in the corner. Cameron was with them, all of them singing along to whatever cartoon was playing. Derek, Valerie, and Nathan were huddled around a table, looking at blueprints.

“Oh, yes! The food’s here!” Cameron cheered, which sent the children shouting as well.

Kira navigated the area like a champ, while Stiles slowly shuffled after. “You guys ordered a lot. I had to ask for help. This is Stiles.”

Stiles didn’t miss the way Derek’s head suddenly jolted in his direction, nor Talia’s proud smile, nor Erica’s sudden screech of “Stiles!” which had everyone else turning their way. Stiles winced. He was going to get his ass kicked later for not telling Erica about this.

“Well, well…” Peter grinned. “Hello there, twink.”

Stiles shuddered. “Still not into creepy old geezers.”

“Oh, wait, wait! Is he the guy who called you a geriatric?” Laura asked, before shrieking in laughter.

“And the one who said Peter should drop dead,” Cora added, cackling. 

Laughter rang around over Peter’s protests, and it made Stiles’ heart stutter. He felt warm all over, like the pings going off in his head were doubly delighted at the Hales. He glanced at Derek, who was smiling warmly.

Stiles winced when he caught Erica’s gaze though. She looked between him and Derek and her eyes widened. But Boyd was suddenly there, hand over her mouth and whispering to her.

Stiles helped Kira take out all of the food and the ravenous Hales were quickly upon them.

“Food Guy’s stuff tastes awesome,” Nathan said, licking his cupcake’s icing. He waggled knowing eyebrows at Stiles, who bit back a grin. Cheeky kid.

“Please pass our compliments to the chef, Kira,” Desmond said, reaching for his drink.

Kira giggled. “You can thank him yourself.” She waved at Stiles with a flourish.

Stiles felt a little like a deer in headlights when all their gazes alighted on him.

“You’re Food Guy?” and other iterations of the exclamation rang around the room.

Stiles flushed. “I’m glad to hear you all like what I’ve been making.”

“Oh, wow! How wonderful!” Piero piped up. “I haven’t felt a ping in such a long time. How nostalgic, don’t you think, dear?” He turned to Valerie.

“That’s a ping?” Matthew asked, confused, before his face cleared and he rubbed his chest. “Oh, hell, this is a ping.”

“Is that the tingly feeling here, Uncle Mattie?” Spencer asked, pointing at his tummy.

Erica finally managed to get out from under Boyd. “Stiles, did you ping with Derek? Is that why you’ve both been hanging around The Family Bean? You’ve both been pining over each other!”

Stiles groaned, while gasps and shouts suddenly rang around the room.

Kira sighed. “Way to ruin it, Erica.”

“You mean I was pinged through a tomato pie?” Cameron was asking, wide-eyed. 

Cora started laughing. “Oh my god! Uncle Peter flirted with Derek’s soulmate!”

“That’s Uncle Derek’s soulmate?” CC asked.

“Yes, he is.” Nathan looked like he was immensely enjoying all this, and Stiles was starting to realize that he was a little shit.

Derek stepped towards Stiles. His face was a little red, but he was smiling and Stiles thought he was the handsomest man he had ever seen.

“My family’s a mess. Please ignore them,” Derek said, ignoring the protests from his siblings.

Stiles chuckled. “At least they keep things interesting. It’s just me, my Dad, and her.” He jerked a thumb at Erica.

“Oh, fu—dge you!” Erica said, glancing at the kids. She turned to Boyd. “And I can’t believe you didn’t tell me!”

Boyd rolled his eyes. “I was giving him space to process things.”

Stiles ignored them and turned to Derek. He only had one chance to do this.

“Ah, sorry, it took a while. I was figuring stuff out, but I thought we should get to know one another first.”

“Of course,” Derek said immediately. He reached out a hand. “I’m looking forward to getting to know you, Stiles.”

Stiles glanced at Talia, who was whispering to her husband. She winked at Stiles.

“Soulmates are a choice.”

Stiles smiled at Derek. He could feel his Mark tingling in anticipation.

“Me too, Derek.”

He reached out and took his hand.

[astonishinglegends]

Ep 204: Nain Rouge

“Suddenly across their path, trotting along the beach, advanced the uncouth figure of a dwarf, very red in the face, with a bright, glistening eye; instead of burning it froze, instead of possessing depth emitted a cold gleam like the reflection from a polished surface, bewildering and dazzling all who came within its focus.”

– Marie Caroline Watson Hamlin from her book, Legends of Le Détroit, 1884

Reference Links:

Nain Rouge on Wikipedia

“Myths and Legends of Our Own Land” by Charles M. Skinner on gutenberg.org

Antoine de la Mothe Cadillac

“Antoine de la Mothe, Sieur de Cadillac, founder of what is now Detroit” on RobinsonLibrary.com

Louis-Hector de Callière

Detroit, MI

Chateau St. Louis

Château Frontenac

“People of Detroit: Antoine de la Mothe, Sieur de Cadillac” on historydetroit.com

“The legend of Detroit’s Nain Rouge: Raising Nain” by Lee DeVito from The Detroit Metro Times

“THE RED DWARF OF DETROIT AND THE MARCHE DU NAIN ROUGE” on AbsoluteMichigan.com

1701, The Great Peace of Montreal - Part 1 of 3 on YouTube

1701, The Great Peace of Montreal - Part 2 of 3 on YouTube

1701, The Great Peace of Montreal - Part 3 of 3 on YouTube

“THE LINCOLN IMP: SURROUNDED BY MYTH AND LEGEND” on VisitLincoln.com

Will-o'-the-wisp - The Americas

John E.L. Tenney’s WeirdLectures.com website

John E.L. Tenney’s “What’s Up Weirdo” website

John E.L. Tenney’s “Realm of The Weir‪d‬” podcast

John E.L. Tenney and Jessica Knapik’s podcast on Spotify, “What's up Weirdo?”

John E.L. Tenney on Twitter

Location:

The Detroit Regional Chamber of Commerce, possibly near where author Marie Caroline Watson Hamlin in her 1884 book, Legends of Le Détroit, says Antoine de la Mothe Cadillac and his wife were strolling in the old King’s Garden, formerly “between Jefferson avenue and Woodbridge street, near the site of the present Chamber of Commerce,” when they encountered the Nain Rouge.

Related Books:

Suggested Listening:

Click here to listen to John E.L. Tenney and Jessica Knapik’s podcast on Spotify, “What's up Weirdo?”

And the What’s Up Weirdo? website

And his WeirdLectures.com website

Hear Scott and Forrest interviewed by their podcasting buddy Max Kreutzer for his comedy podcast, The Story Of, and visit his website, https://maxkreutzer.com/podcasts

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Credits:

Episode 204: Nain Rouge. Produced by Scott Philbrook & Forrest Burgess; Audio Editing by Sarah Vorhees Wendel. Sound Design by Ryan McCullough; Tess Pfeifle, Producer, and Lead Researcher; Research Support from the astonishing League of Astonishing Researchers, a.k.a. The Astonishing Research Corps, or "A.R.C." for short. Copyright 2021 Astonishing Legends Productions, LLC. All Rights Reserved.

[trillian-anders]

the harlot - iv

pairing: steve rogers x reader

warnings: descriptive violence, angst, fluff, smut,

word count: 2.8k

description: harlots inspired au;

one last run before shipping off steve rogers is brought to a brothel to love a woman in case of his untimely demise at war. he meets the reader, young and fresh, not yet tainted by the world they’d been born into. a torrid one night love affair that costs their mother greatly. a promise and years later they meet again, the reader resentful and distrustful. the charming, now captain rogers, seems as captivated in reader as ever. but it’s never meant to be. and you both know that.

His jaw was more defined. His brows fuller. Hair longer than you could remember it being. His eyes were almost dark in this lighting. Not their usual blue, but something more serious and hardened. His bottom lip was just as pink and full as before, you vaguely remember how it felt between your teeth. It was silent. Tea growing cold between you as the question hung in the air.

He swallowed, taking a sip of his tea. The sound of the cup hitting the saucer before he started, “I wasn’t lying to you.”

“But you omitted facts.” You cross your arms, “You withheld information.” He shakes his head,

“When was I supposed to tell you?” He reasons, “We had one night, I wasn’t too keen on explaining my family history.” No, he’d been far more concerned with making up for his shortcomings, having you writhe on this tongue before he hardened again. And you met twice more that night. Whispers of dreams that could never be shared between you, and a stupid promise that should have never been made.

“So explain.” He leans forward resting his arms on the table, eyes scanning the wood and he says,

“Where to start?” He shakes his head, eyes meeting yours from beneath his lashes, “My parents…”

They’re Sara and Joseph Rogers. Old money from being a staunchly military family. He shrugs, “Every member of my family has fought for the British Military.” But not so much lately. They were full of Barons and Marquess. “I’m to take the title of Lord soon.” He was going to sit in the House of Peers and with his familial status and his own Lordship…

“You’d control half of Britain.” You sit back against your chair, still fingering the piece of cheese, thinking.

“And my family the other half.” They were steps away from the palace. “And when my father dies…” He would be less than fifteen seats from the throne itself.

“So Pierce…” He shrugs,

“Wants to get in my good graces so that when it happens…”

“You’ll let him keep doing his villainous deeds, he would have a greater barrier of protection.” Steve nods.

Politics were a mess of titles and owned land. Who has the bigger property? Who has the more lavish surroundings? Who can spread their coin around? And if the gold fastenings on his shirt were anything to go by, the foregone wig and the cleanliness of him, he could do whatever he wants. Even have Brock murdered tonight, without anyone batting an eyelash.

“I don’t want to leave you here.” He admits honestly. His hand reaches across the table to still yours. “I said I would come back to you and I did.” Warm and calloused. It gave you a small bit of comfort.

“We were children.” You could feel it bubbling in your chest. The emotion. You weren’t going to cry. “We didn’t know what promise we were making.”

“I knew.” His hand tightened slightly on yours. “Y/N…” You pull away. “The only reason I didn’t come back for you more quickly was for my term at war… I’ve been working—”

“For what?” You tug on your teeth out of nerves, “It’s been almost ten years, Steve.” He sighs and looks at you with reverence.

“I was working… to first free the Americans.” Against his King’s army. “They deserved their freedom, and everyone knows it.” He softly grabs your hand again, “After that I joined a group…” Shaking his head, “I had to build these foundations before I came for you again.” He looked hopeful almost, wanting. His tongue comes and wets his bottom lip.

“Even if you did take me from here, what am I to be?”  A harsh laugh, “You’ll marry.” The corners of his mouth twitched but did not give into a frown. “You’ll marry and you’ll have children and a legacy… and I will just be your whore to visit and buy pretty jewels for.” You pull away from him, scooting your chair back and standing from the table, scrubbing your face with your hands, you turn from him.

“I don’t want anyone but you.” He claims. You scoff, turning to look at him. And in the shadows of his face you can see that boy now.

“Then you obviously haven’t grown as much as I thought.” You shake your head, the tears betraying you by slipping down your cheeks, “You need to marry, and you can not marry a whore.” He steps from the table, rounding it to meet you, softly grabbing your hands which still frame your face and taking them in his own.

“Y/N…” His lips meeting your right wrist and then your left. “I can do whatever I want.” You roll your eyes,

“And be ruined for it.” He takes a step closer, his chest brushing against yours and his forehead meets yours and he’s close, so close.

“Y/N…” His mouth meets yours and you’re unable to say no. You’re unable to do anything but melt against him. His arm wraps around your waist and pulls you harder against him as you part and meet again. Your hand gripping his bicep as your ass meets the hard edge of the table. He parts from you with heavy breath on your lips, those pink lips now red and flushed. “I would gladly be ruined if it meant I were to spend the rest of my life next to you.”

A gasp of a pant as his hands cradle your face, his cheeks flushed against his pale skin. You tremble under his gaze.

“There’s just one thing we need to do first.” He presses his lips to yours again, “And I need you to trust me.” His thumb brushing against your bottom lip before bringing you back to him in a slow and savory way, “I will never let anything bad happen to you again.”

“You can’t promise that.” His thumbs pressing into your cheeks as he presses his hips against yours. You can feel that hard familiar length of him. Your knees locking him in against you as you relish in that old feeling.

Maybe this was a mistake. How could you have let him get so close so quickly? You gave in at the press of his lips. The feeling it bred in your body like a drug you couldn’t help but find yourself addicted to. The memory pales against the real thing. The way it makes your skin shiver and your fingers tremble where they lay on his arms. He could tell you to do anything right now and you’d do exactly as he asked. A dangerous thing when it comes to your profession.

Those years of building up a guard and becoming objective and distanced. You couldn’t care less if Pierce wanted another whore for the night, something he did occasionally, or if he found his way to you. You didn’t care to be left alone for days on end in this big house with only books and a morning and evening stroll to take your time. But in this moment, you feel like you might die if he left you.

You might die if he were to let you go.

He meets your lips again, tongue brushing yours, a steady joining and parting. Soft and wet.

“I need you to help me bury Pierce.” His touch so warm and comforting, “Help me take him down and then,” A press of his forehead against yours, “And then I’ll take you to the country estate, just like I promised.”

“Is that all you want from me?” He shakes his head,

“I want everything that has to do with you.” His thumb soft across your cheek, “We need to secure your money first, everything you’re owed.” You whimper against him as his hips press further into yours, “And then you can help me take this bastard down.” A press of his lips to your throat, to where the neckline of your nightdress met your skin. And your heart raced as he pressed his mouth to the bruises on your skin. His hands gentle against your tender flesh as he sunk to his knees before you. “You had bewitched me the moment I saw you,” A gentle kiss to the skin of your thigh, “I would do anything for you.” His hands pressing your thighs further apart to settle his head between them. “Anything.”

He laid a plan out between your thighs, hand gripping your hips steady on his face as his tongue worked you to falling apart. Your fingers twisted in his hair as he let you benefit from the friction on your sex. Nipples hard beneath your shift, arching up against him in gasps and moans as he brought you to a trembling end. Mouth and tongue pressing sloppily against your thighs and hips.  

“When Pierce returns,” A whisper against your lips, “We will begin.”

With him gone and the house empty you grew clearer. Less foggy and drunk with his presence. But he said Brock wouldn’t be back for the rest of the night, right?

You powder makeup on in the mirror, covering up the bruises best you could. Maybe you could risk going to see your Ma.

The single opportunity presented itself and you would be a fool not to take it. And your Ma would know what to do. She’d be able to clear your head about this.

You did what you could to hide Brock’s handiwork, but your Ma was sure to spot a mark or two. The trepidation in that was drowned by the excitement to see your Pa and Peter again. Your steps quick and heart beginning to flutter as the prim and proper clean homes turned into the thick dark wood and the volume of the town louder than the sleepy homes you’d just left behind.

Drunks in the street and a loud row in a pub, passed by as you continued to your destination. The vibrant noise and the sounds of people stuffed in alleys sampling the wares on the streets.

You saw your Pa first. His hair greyer than you remember. Chatting outside with a man you didn’t recognize, just outside of the house you’d grown up in. He must have felt you coming. His eyes drifting over to you and smile splits his lips. The emotions you’d felt all day spilling over onto your cheeks as you run into his open arms.

A hug tight enough to squeeze the breath from you. It pushes out a sob. His hand on the back of your head as he held you to him and you felt like a child again. Scared of a storm. Weeping into his shoulder as he soothes the cracks of thunder that woke you from your bed.

“My sweet girl.” He pulls back to look at your face and presses a kiss to your forehead. “I’ve missed you so.” His hand firm in yours, “Come.” A tip of his head to the man he was talking to before your approach and he brought you into the house. The noise of creaking beds drowned out by the twinkle of keys at the piano you’d not touched in years. Your Ma was found in the parlor. And your eyes immediately went to the tall boy behind the piano. Peter.

Your heart lept in your chest as he ran to you, wrapping you in his arms. “Y/N, what are you doing here?” Happy and eager.

“I was left alone for a night,” You smile at him, looking over his shoulder at your Ma. “I have until morning.” You laugh, stepping back from Peter. “You weren’t lying Ma,” You grin at him, “You’ve grown quite a bit.”

“There’s so much I want to talk to you about.” He says, “I just don’t know where to start.” You brush a hand across his cheek and in his face, you could see the little boy who pulled on your skirt begging for sweets. The little boy who cuddled you in your bed after falling asleep reading. And you felt your heart full for the first time in a while.

“Let her breathe,” Your Ma held her hand out to you, “Are you hungry love?” And you realized you were starving. You’d forgotten the last time you had stew. Rich people didn’t eat the scraps from their table all blended together like this. They hadn’t the need to.

It was food of the poor. The indentured. And it gave you more comfort than you could put into words. A hunk of crusty bread on the side and you were being spoiled.

Your Ma’s finger gripped your chin and turned your face in the soft candlelight. “When will he let you go.” She sighs, “I thought you’d be living free by now.” With a 400 pound a year pension and living the way you’d like. “I’m so sorry love.” You pull from her, scraping your bread over the sides of the bowl.

“I need to ask you something, Ma.” Bread swallowed and belly full, you gaze across the table at her, much like the way you looked at Steve earlier. “Do you remember Steve?” Her shoulders visibly tense, of course she did.

“He swore to me he wouldn’t talk.” Her voice tight, “Did he say something to Sir Pierce?”

“No.” You shake your head, sipping your wine, “No, he didn’t.” A swallow, “But he’s come back… and he wants to take me with him.” Confusion clear on her face.

“Take you with him where?” Her fingers rapping on the table, nervous. “You’re under contract.” You tug on your lip,

“Yes,” Your Pa and Peter enter the room. Parlor cleaned up and,

“Shut the door.” Your Ma orders, blocking this conversation from the rest of the house. You look at your Pa and Peter, before directing your attention back to your mother.

“This can’t leave this room.” Your voice sterner than you thought it would be. “Do you understand?”

It was going to be complicated. You’d told Steve earlier, “I don’t want to be your whore.” Your lips both swollen from kissing, “I have my own money. I want my own home and my own things.” Soft and emotional, “I don’t want to belong to anyone.” A nod, a prayer on his lips and he said,

“I’ll do whatever you ask of me.”

You begin to explain, “Lord Steve Rogers,” Your Mother’s brow lifts, “He takes his title this week. He’s going to help me get out of my contract and help me keep my money after.”

“For what?” Your Ma shrugs, “What does he want in return.”

“What does he have to gain from it.” Your father adds. You lick your lips.

“He’s trying to take down Pierce.” You admit, “Get rid of his villainy over the city.” The murdered in the streets. The vile and wretched dirty dealings with him giving out loans and taking exceeded interest. Drowning families and destroying homes.

“And he wants you to help him.” Peter finishes.

“Yeah,” You give him a half smile, “I’ll be helping him.”

“Absolutely not.” A pound of her hand on the table and your Ma steps from it. “Peirce would see you hanged for betraying him and I refuse.”

“But Ma—”

“Your Ma’s right, sweetheart.” A sigh from your old Dad. “It’s a large risk to take, and no one knows if this would actually work.” It wasn’t a lie. If Pierce finds that you’re working against him you’d soon find your hands around your throat and your body tossed away like garbage. And maybe you were being foolish. Maybe this was a mistake.

“I could help.” Peter offers. “I mean… Steve.”

“No.” Firm and absolute.

“Listen to me,” You start, “Pierce would rather see me die than leave his side regardless of whether or not I help Lord Rogers or not. He’s shown that to me time and time again. Without fail.” Your voice rising in volume, “I’m not dumb enough to get swept away in this game, but it needs to be played, Ma.” If you were ever going to survive this.

“Send him here.” An order from your Pa. “Let me talk to him and we shall go from there, but your Ma and I want no word of either of you pursuing this.” His voice turning softer, “I want you back, not gone for good, do you understand me?” You nod.

“I understand.”

[masterofmagnetism]

a prayer like a war cry

WHO: Erik Lehnsherr, Scott Summers @firstxman, Jean Grey-Summers @jeaniegreysummers, Maddie Pryor @rxdqueens, and Lorna Dane @mistressxfmagnetism WHERE: Genosha. Erik’s house and the missile silo. WHEN: 14 days after training with Jean and Lorna went sideways. WHAT: Erik has a plan. The kids aren’t on board, this time. WARNINGS: Literally so many TWs. Major character death, abuse, alcoholism, addiction, plane crash mention, lots and lots of mentions of murder, fire, suicidal ideation, assorted mental health issues, grief, ptsd, manipulation, probably more that I can’t think to tag rn. Proceed! With! Caution! WORDS: 12k

ERIK: Lorna's pulse thumped steadily beneath his fingertips, her chest rising and falling shallowly on the bed. The wound to her chest was well-bound; the bandages that had been wrapped around her head for a few days had been removed since then. Erik had been careful to delicately clean the stitches on the back of her head every night since they were removed.

She never made a sound. She hadn't woken up since Ric carried her back from New York, no matter how much Erik talked to her. No matter how much he begged, or apologized.

He hadn't cried since the night he brought her back to his home from the hospital, since he managed to finagle the nurses into agreeing to come tend her here rather than in a hospital bed. The sterility of the hospital room made him queasy every time he visited; he'd never liked them, and Lorna hadn't either. She'd be happier waking up at home.

If she woke up.

The doctors had told him that she should. Not would, because there were some promises that just couldn't be made, but they'd sounded optimistic. Told him that she'd been through a lot. She needed time. Her body needed time. It made sense, he knew it made sense, but that didn't shake the tightness in his own chest, the fear that sat in his throat that another child was going to slip through his fingers and end up six feet under.

He had cried, after the nurses left for the night, after he'd gone through the checklist they gave him, and he had fallen asleep sitting against the side of the bed, fingers twisted in hers. And he'd fallen asleep praying. He didn't do that much, anymore, had learned along with the rest of his contemporaries during the War that g-d could not be relied on to intercede. The rabbis had tried to rationalize it afterwards, of course. In Israel, across Europe. They had come up with myriad reasons why His 'Chosen People' were left to be exterminated in the most horrific ways possible, tried to salvage their faith.

Erik had never found any of the excuses satisfactory, but that was the thing about faith, wasn’t it? Blind trust. Optimism. Hope. And he’d held onto it, or at least something like it, even as he decided that he would not wait for His hand to do anything for him that his own two hands could not, one way or another.

Lorna had been in His hands, and she was alive. Not awake, but alive, and that was something. That was more than he’d gotten for her sister. Lorna hadn’t died, and that meant something.

Her waking up would mean something, too, if Erik had anything to say about it. The idea of retaliation had been on his mind since she’d come back cold and almost dead, as Ric could attest to, but his thinking had evolved that first night. He had the means, nestled in their quickly-built silos on the coast. It’d be something swift, something clean, something that wouldn’t require anyone else to get their hands dirty as the siege had, something that wouldn’t run the risk of another Raven. It would, quite literally, be as easy as a push of the button. As easy as sitting on the coast watching the sun set behind New York, and clearing the buildings and people out of the way for the sun to shine unimpeded on Genosha.

He’d had a week to do it, and yet something had sat uneasy in his chest, something that screamed that it was as wrong as the way Lorna’s heart had stutter-stopped across the bay. There was another voice that was louder than that, too. ‘They deserve it. You’ve always known they do. Always known this would end only one way. You’ve tried to give them the benefit of the doubt, time and time and time again, and what do you have to show for it? Loss after loss after loss. Betrayal after betrayal after betrayal. The kids will understand, when it’s all over. Just like they did with the siege.’

That niggling feeling in the back of his mind had stilled his action, until now. Instead, for the first time in a long time, Erik had decided to put his next move in His hands, too.

If she wakes up, I won’t do it. If she wakes up, I will let this pass. Just let her wake up. Let her wake up.

He’d given it seven days, and Lorna’s eyes still hadn’t opened.

That was his answer, then. Erik closed his eyes, leaned forward in his chair to press Lorna’s knuckles against his forehead, letting out a slow breath through his nose and squeezing her hand.

Once more, he asked. And once more, she didn’t stir. Something steady and quiet and assured settled across his shoulders, and Erik pressed his lips to the back of Lorna’s hand before he pushed up to his feet. He set her arm gently on the bed, and brushed back a loose strand of her hair, fingers running along her cheek for just a moment.

She would wake when this was finished. He was sure of it.

Erik picked his helmet up from next to him and settled it over his head before stepping out of the room, closing the door silently behind him.

The walk to the silo building passed in the blink of an eye, and by the time Erik snapped back to himself, his hands were trailing along the shells of the missiles. He could feel the energy contained inside, a heady sensation up so close. His fingers were halfway to the first manual switch when he heard the door open behind him, and three sets of footsteps in the wake of the click. Erik’s lips thinned, and he turned, eyes almost fever-bright. “She hasn’t woken up.”

SCOTT: Erik was planning something.

Only a few months ago, the concept had been one that sparked hope in Scott’s chest, bright and hot and unfamiliar. Erik had had a plan then, and Scott had been on board. He’d been excited, he’d been ready. They had stormed the U.N., they had done what they needed to do. They had taken Erik’s plan and they had made a home of it. They had turned it into safety, into security, and for the first time in his life, Scott had been blessed with a warmth that didn’t slip through his fingers. Only a few months ago, Erik had been planning something and Scott had been behind him without hesitation.

But things were different now.

Rictor had been uncharacteristically quiet, the few times Scott had seen him around the island. He looked angrier than usual, which was saying something for Ric. He looked tense, looked over his shoulder at every turn like he was worried he might find someone he didn’t want to see standing there, and Scott knew who he was searching for. He knew that Rictor looked very much like he had looked at fourteen, with Jack looming over his shoulder and bruises hidden beneath his sweatshirt. Erik, Scott feared, had become exactly the sort of man he’d dedicated his life to fighting against. He’d become Jack Winters, become Nathaniel Essex, become Sebastian Shaw. He’d become the monster under the bed, the thing their people feared.

And Scott couldn’t let it go on any longer.

Erik would be glad for it, if he were himself. Scott knew that. Jean could attest to as much in the way she’d asked Zatanna to kill her back when she knew she’d gone too far, in the way she’d begged her family to stop her before she became the thing she desperately wanted not to be. When the people you loved turned to their own demons, when they became the vengeful spirit making the walls of their own homes drip blood, exorcism was a kindness. It was a necessity.

The Hendersons lived near the silos, and when Scott had asked them to let him know if Erik passed by their apartment, they hadn’t questioned the request. They trusted him. They asked if he was worried about Erik, looked concerned with the question. ’He’s so torn up over poor Lorna,’ Michelle had sighed, glancing mournfully out the window as if she could see Erik from there. Maybe she could --- he wasn’t sure about the limits on her ability to peer through solid surfaces. ’Hasn’t left the hospital much, from what I hear. If he’s out this way, I’ll let you know. We should all keep an eye on him together. A show of support.’ Scott had tasted bile in his throat when he’d nodded, had felt like a villain when he’d smiled. A show of support. It made his stomach clench.

He wished he were more surprised when, seven days after he’d stopped Erik from murdering Rictor in a hospital lobby, Michelle Henderson texted him with a grainy photo of Erik passing by her window with his hands in his pockets. ’He looks sad,’ was the accompanying message, and Scott tried to look hard enough to see the expression on Erik’s face in the photo, tried to determine if the set of his shoulders was grief or anger or determination or some combination of the three. Maddie and Jean were both in the kitchen when he exited the bedroom, twin expressions of grim determination on their faces. They knew what needed to be done here. They knew.

The trek to the silos was a silent one. Even their minds were quiet, like they were all terrified of thinking the thought, all nervous to be the one to put words to the act they were about to commit. None of them wanted to do it, Scott knew. None of them wanted to be here. But Erik was planning something, and the thought wasn’t supposed to fill them all with dread. It wasn’t supposed to make their blood run cold.

Erik didn’t seem surprised when they entered the silo building. It was almost like he’d been expecting them. The helmet on his head made the thought a much scarier one, the idea that he was actively hiding things from them instead of doing it passively enough to make Scott freeze in the doorway. Erik spoke, and he sounded like Winters, like Sinister. He sounded like a madman. Scott closed his eyes behind his visor, chest tight.

“She will,” he said, voice bouncing off the walls around them, echoing to fill the empty space. “Don’t you want to be there when she does? Go home, Erik. Don’t do this tonight.” Don’t do this at all. He couldn’t say it, couldn’t let Erik know that they weren’t on the same page anymore, that they hadn’t been for a while now. He told himself there was pleading left to be done. He told himself there was hope of saving this, of saving Erik. He told himself that, if Erik left this building without doing what he’d come here to do, it might mean there was hope.

He’d gotten good at lying to himself, over the years.

JEAN: When you loved someone, you ignored their worst parts. You adored them in spite of the characteristics and opinions you would hate in a stranger, that would drive you to war with an enemy. Jean ignored Scott’s tendency towards violence (the hypocrisy of that uncomfortable stone in her stomach wasn’t lost on her, either. She was capable of ripping the world apart just as often). She ignored the fact that Maddie was fashioned from fibres of the Phoenix, delivered to her doorstep as a manifestation of best intentions. She ignored how Erik walked out that door, leaving her with tear tracks running down her face and worlds they’d created crashing around her, ignored the years they’d been on opposite sides of battles.

(It went both ways, Jean knew. Kara ignored her tendency to run from problems, to box them firmly in specified areas of her brain to think about sometime close to never. Scott ignored the fact that Jean was, as she was slowly coming to admit, absolutely fucking insane. The X-Men ignored Jean burning to ashes on the front lawn of the home that was supposed to represent safety and comfort, ignored that she brought a vicious, angry entity into their lives through nothing but ignorance and naivety and a desperate clutch towards being unafraid.)

She had to make it convincing. Erik would see through her in an instant. He’d tracked her expressions since she was little more than ten years old. He knew her inside and out, knew her better than most, knew her angry and vengeful as much as he did happy and, on rare occasions, calm. He knew her -- and that meant it had to be believable. She had to be warm, had to be compassionate, had to be Jean Grey.

And that meant ignoring it. It meant remembering why she’d adored him so thoroughly. It meant putting this cold rage into a box, and bringing the flickering fire back into front and centre.

It meant flicking through photo albums, seeing the letters he wrote her as a child, reading through books they’d enjoyed. It meant practising what he’d told her, exploring her powers and feeling proud to be a mutant for the first time, not feeling as if she was passing for anything other than what she was, totally in tune with the world around her. It meant looking at Lorna, feeling that desperate pull in her chest, and remembering that this girl who she loved so completely was half of him, so at least fifty percent must be worth taking another breath.

It meant telling herself she wasn’t the monster she was becoming, that she would shed a tear when he was dead. In the back of her mind, Jean simply resented the fact that she wasn’t the one to deliver the final blow -- but she had to make it believable. She had to be his friend, his daughter. She had to be another half of him out there in the world.

Did Maddie know what they were going into? Did she know why they moved under the cover of darkness, why Jean asked her to mask their movements from the other citizens and even those they considered family? Had Scott told her -- had they talked in the kitchen when Jean was pretending to sleep, staring at the ceiling and counting how many days until she killed another piece of her own soul? Did she know, or was she following them out of love, because when you adored someone you ignored their murderous inclinations?

(It was almost funny. It was almost ironic. The Phoenix was flickering, and if she wanted this to stop, she would’ve told Erik. She might’ve already. She might have been manipulating them all, just waiting for them to get together and laugh at the cataclysmic explosion that was sure to follow. The Phoenix was life itself -- she knew what was about to happen, and she let it happen anyway. The true manifestation of evil, Jean thought to herself. All those things you ignored because you loved me, the Phoenix provided. Jean pretended it was her own mind.)

She’d been quiet with him. Nothing explosive like usual -- no arguments that led to raised voices and smashed plates. He would know she had shifted, know she had changed, but there were other things she could blame it on, other griefs. Her family were dead. He was the closest to a father she had left. She was simply protecting her own heart, or scared that she would lose someone else close -- it was a matter of preserving his life, worried for what the Shi’ar would do when they saw what he meant to her.

Any number of arguments came to mind, but Jean didn’t go for any of them. Her hand slipped out of Maddie’s (she’d held it on the way without realising, without noticing the pulling need to share her energy in that moment). Instead she stepped forward, Scott’s words still ringing in the silence between them, and reached her hand for Erik’s.

“Talk to me,” she said, voice thin (she was desperately holding it in. She wanted to scream how could you? She wanted to crack the Earth beneath him. She wanted to say Lorna was hurt because of him -- but they were both guilty of so much, the words got caught almost naturally in her throat). “We can talk with words, or we can talk in our minds. We can do anything you want, Erik, but don’t do it alone.” Her composure cracked, but it made it sound more like a plea than a threat. “Don’t block me out, please. I can’t lose someone else.”

MADDIE: There was a point when someone was faced with a decision, a scarily huge one, and were at a crossroads. Which path to take, the unknowns daunting over either option making it that much harder to make a choice. Then there were times where the decision was made for you, something so impactful it shoves you down the pathway before you can even try to think what pros and cons the other pathway brings you. Scott, Jean, and Maddie had been pushed down this path and were racing down it at a fast speed, slowing down enough to mask what impact was incoming for Erik. It had felt like since the incident at Jean’s family home they had been hurtling down a path that was set for them, dominoes falling and setting off a chain of events that fate had in mind for them, no matter how painful.

Initially, Maddie hadn’t even been aware of the plan. Her mind whirling over her own struggles with where exactly she fit into everything. There were no photos in Jean’s family home of her, it was like she was a ghost. Someone who passed through the unseen to walk among those who were tangible. It scared her, left her with entirely too many questions rather than answers. Naturally, she shoved these worries far away from the reach of Jean. Jean could find them if she dug, went searching, but Maddie knew she wouldn’t. Not unless she gave her a reason to, so she had to keep silent. Scott approaching her while Maddie took to having tea on a sleepless night was easy enough to focus on instead.

It was almost too easy to agree, to simply nod and ask when they were to move forward, to sit on standy for the inevitable. It had to be done, Maddie wondered what it said about her to be so willing to go along with a murderous plan without so much of a flinch. 

(Did sinister feelings already exist in her and were simply waiting for the excuse to finally seep out like a poison to infect her? Was it really sinister if she was doing this and it was ultimately for the best? When did she start rationalizing the lack of feeling truly anything but understanding to a murder?)

The day came, the air changed in the kitchen upon Scott entering. A grim realization dawned that there was stepping out now, no backing down. The voice in the back of her mind was silent, too silent, she didn’t know if that was a good thing. It felt ominous in itself as Maddie cloaked their movements through the night, undetected to anyone and everyone, even those she wouldn’t normally. Those she loved, but Erik was among those, the ones she loved and despite the rationalizing of it all there was a quiet ache in her chest along the fire that normally simmered there. Her fingers curled around her sister’s, grounding her as much as she was sure it was doing for the other as well. There was no going back.

Maddie wasn’t sure if the cold seeping down to her bones was from the silo or the ice that was breaching the canyon between Erik and the three of them. Her tongue bled from how hard she bit it, keeping in far too many words that threatened to flow. Not now. (She wasn’t even sure if she had a right to say them. A new addition to the family, sliding in like she had always belonged, but entirely unsure if she belonged. After all, what did it say that everyone, Erik included, initially thought her to be Jean?) .

“We’re not going to leave you alone,” Maddie finally spoke, in space of the angry words that were a threat to bleed into her tone despite her masking it all. “She’ll wake up, because she will wake up, and will want you firstmost. This can wait.” Her tone was careful, even as she could manage.

Looking at Jean, Maddie’s frown was genuine. There was a flash of the way her sister crumbled as she saw her parents lying far too still before the house was set aflame by Derry. It had stayed with her and was sure it would for a very long time. The grief had been palpable, an ache that could be felt even after they had left the home. The only difference in this moment they were all grieving for the living, for the person before them. 

ERIK: When you lived your whole life on a precipice, that looming drop became something familiar, something that settled in your blood, in your bones. Mind your step, always, and Erik did. He had survived where countless others hadn’t, instincts always on, always making sure his footsteps were sure, always ready to fight off anything that might knock him off balance.

Here, in a room with three of his four living children, Erik felt for the first time in a long time like the ground wasn’t quite steady under his feet.

It was hard to put a finger on what, exactly, the problem was—perhaps Scott’s pause in the doorway, perhaps the way Jean was suddenly in his arms after two weeks of avoidance, perhaps the way Maddie held her tongue and sounded calm in a way he’d rarely seen from her.

Individually, excusable.

Together? That creep of unease that had him put on the helmet before he left coiled itself around his spine, wound down to where Jean had taken his hands.

For all their fights, he’d never killed one of the X-Men. Not because he couldn’t; he had a mental file of the known powerset of whatever the current roster was, all the ways to get to them if need be. Not because of Charles, either—if the man saw fit to send children to fight him, well, he should be damned ready to face the consequences. Not because they were children; Erik had first taken a life (had taken three) when he was fourteen years old. No, Erik hadn’t held back on principle.

Erik had held back for Jean, who loved her team as much as she loved him.

Jean was in his arms, asking him to talk to her after two weeks of the silent treatment, taking his hands after avoiding his presence for just as long, and Erik knew something was wrong, even as badly as he wanted to believe it. Self-deception was an easy trap to fall into, for the ones you loved.

One he’d already fallen into. That was why he was here, after all. To fix what weakness had wrought him.

He couldn’t let them stop him. But maybe, maybe, he could make them understand what was so crystal clear in his mind, now.

(Charles had told him once that there was something clean to the way his mind handled plans. Setting them up involved a tangle of ideas, red strings on pinboards, but once they were finalized? It was something crisp, pure. A silver thread from problem to solution. This one had been there for a long time, behind locked doors. Had been there since that day Charles had found out Shaw’s plans from Emma and looked so horrified while Erik had quietly weighed its odds of success.)

“I know she’ll wake up,” Erik said, glancing between Scott and Maddie. “I know. But not now. Not until I do what I should’ve done a long time ago.” Alone, or with his family at his side, it would be done. “It’s been seven days. This is what needs to happen.”

And if they get in your way….

“You were right about Ric, Scott. I was wrong. I shouldn’t have taken my frustration out on him. He did what he knows how to do. He tried to help with her anger the same way I would have, and he saved her life by bringing her back here. Killing all those men. My anger should never have been leveled at him. No, it’s the people who pulled the trigger who are the problem. The humans.”

Erik’s fingers wrapped tightly around Jean’s hands, and his expression was determined but earnest. He could convince her. Needed to convince her. “It’s been long enough, hasn’t it? I’ve tried, again and again and again, to give them the benefit of the doubt. For your sake. And every time, we lose someone else. Anya, you, Scott, Raven. How many more of us need to die? Lorna is pulling through this time, but what about next time? If it’s Maddie? If it’s your daughter?” he said, gaze flicking from Jean’s gaze to Scott’s. “Because it will be Rachel, eventually. It’ll be all of us.”

That much was clear, now. So clear, he wondered how he hadn’t seen it before, how he’d settled for the siege when there was so much more to be done. “This island is a target on our backs. Why should we huddle here, waiting for the inevitable to happen? Why should we settle for this little spit of land when we could have more, when we deserve more? What is this, really? A glorified containment cell, one they will grow weary of sooner or later.”

No, his children deserved the world. And they would have it, even if it meant taking it on their behalf.

Erik’s hands in Jean’s pulled her close, twisted just slightly so that she was between him and Scott as he wrapped her in an embrace, pressed his lips to her hair.

He loved them, but he didn’t trust them.

Jean’s weakness was Scott, and Scott’s weakness was Jean, as it had been since they were teenagers. Scott might be willing to risk bystanders in a hospital, but he would never risk his wife.

The switches on the missiles flipped to ‘on,’ coordinate screens lighting up at once.

“You told me that the Phoenix shows you the truth, Jean,” he murmured against the top of her head. “This is the truth. One I’ve tried very hard to ignore for a very long time. Do you remember what I showed you of Cuba?” The reactor room. I'd like you to know that I agree with every word you said. We are the future.

“I tried the other ways, for you. But it’s time to stop lying to ourselves, schatzi. It was always going to go this way. If you don’t want to help me, go home. Let me take care of this the way I should have long ago.”

SCOTT: Jean told him once, in the cold chill of winter, that the Phoenix took everything you had and made it bigger. It amplified all the things you were, all the things you felt. For me, she’d said, the Phoenix found expression through my emotions. It made them so huge that there was no room under the sky for my joy, my grief, my love for you. When he opened his eyes in that graveyard, when he stood in front of his tombstone and realized the burning in his chest was more than just the restarting of his heart, he’d waited for it. He’d spent days with bated breath, waiting for the Phoenix to amplify his emotions the way they amplified Jean’s, waiting to feel everything so big that there was no room left for anything else.

It never came.

Instead of an onslaught of emotion, instead of joy and grief and love too large to ever be contained, Scott felt empty. He felt nothing. And it wasn’t just for current events, wasn’t just for the things as they happened in real time --- Scott felt nothing so intensely that he could hardly remember ever having felt anything at all. If he had, if he had felt the things he’d been through with the same intensity as he was meant to, he wouldn’t have been able to stomach what they did to Derry at all. It made him uneasy now, made him uncomfortable, but if he were himself? Scott would have fought harder against it. He would have refused to let it come to be. If Scott felt everything instead of nothing, it would be better. It would be preferable.

(He thought of his mother. He thought of the locked door, of the blackout curtains over her bedroom window, of the way she got out of bed so rarely that there were days Scott did everything for Alex, changed his diapers and warmed his bottles and put him to bed. He thought of how depression was often synonymous with numbness. He thought of how he’d spent so much of his childhood longing to become his father, of how he might have become his mother instead, of how neither option was a good one in the end. He thought of how this, too, should make him feel something, and of how it didn’t.)

Of course, there were some situations where the numbness was useful. Right now, standing in this room with the silos and controls laid out in front of them, Scott saw how it could be used as an advantage. The old Scott Summers, the one who existed with no spark of the Phoenix in his soul, wouldn’t have been able to do what he planned to do here. Even when Erik was his enemy, that version of Scott could never shoot to kill. He kept his blasts controlled. He kept himself from unleashing his full potential. He kept Erik alive. And maybe, in the end, this made the entire situation his own fault. Maybe if that old version of Scott had done what needed to be done ten years ago, he wouldn’t be faced with this now.

 But the past was the past. Scott hadn’t been strong enough to do what needed to be done then, but he was now. He was. He would do what he always did, what he had done since he was sixteen years old --- what was best for his people. And what was best for his people, today, meant getting rid of one of them. For the greater good. If Erik were in his right mind, he’d understand that.

Jean’s voice was soft, was gentle, was an act. They knew what they had come here to do. They knew talking was not the end goal. As much as Scott wanted Erik to come out and agree with them, he doubted that would be the end result. Magneto had always been steadfast in his beliefs, always had a mind impossible to change. (Mr. Sinister wouldn’t have been able to shape it, to mold it as he had Scott’s. If Scott were more like Erik-) Even Charles couldn’t manage it, with their history. Even Jean didn’t stand a chance. This, Scott knew, eliminated any shot he might have had. Maddie spoke next, tones a twin lie standing side by side with Jean’s, hand-in-hand. They were good actors, the two of them. Scott almost believed they had some intention of letting Erik redeem himself.

And then it was Erik’s voice, flat and steady and determined. He looked to Scott, he said you were right, and for a moment, the dull, emotionless version of hope sparked in his chest. But then Erik kept talking. He continued, he went on about what needed to be done, and it was too late. It had been too late for a long time now.

In the back of his mind, the Phoenix whispered. ’Maybe he’s right,’ the bird said. ’Maybe this is the only way. It would be easier, wouldn’t it? It would be simpler.’ And Scott shut his eyes behind his visor, drew a breath. He thought of Jean. Of how she looked at him on their wedding day, fingers intertwined with his. Of Colleen out in the chairs spread in the grass, grinning. Of Cassie, the way her hair tangled into hopeless knots when she fell asleep on their sofa. Of Zatanna and the horrible favor she’d done for Jean, saving her and ending her all at once. Of Kara when she’d landed behind him in Genosha, of the pain in her voice that he’d ignored because it wasn’t a convenient thing for him to notice. If Erik did what he wanted to do, they would all be caught in the crossfire.

If Scott let Erik do what he wanted to do, his daughter would never look him in the eyes again.

It was Rachel’s name that tore his eyes open, Rachel’s name that settled like determination in his chest. Rachel thought highly of him. She thought he was a hero. If he let the Phoenix convince him that Erik was right the same way he had let it convince him that Derry’s memories needed to fade, she would change her mind. Erik brought up Scott’s daughter in hopes of swaying him one way, but her name pushed him in the other direction. If Scott Summers had ever been a good man, it was only for the people he loved. If Scott Summers had ever been a hero, it was only thanks to his desperation to live up to their expectations. Loving them was what made him decent. Nothing else ever really came close.

Erik knew what they were here to do. Scott had no doubt. It was why he’d shifted Jean, why he’d placed her strategically between them. It was why his tone sounded as close to begging as Scott had ever heard it. He wasn’t begging for his own life --- he wasn’t begging to be allowed to live. He was begging to be allowed to destroy. Maybe that said the only thing worth saying in this entire ordeal. Maybe the truth came not in the words, but in the implications between them.

Do you remember what I showed you of Cuba? The words were meant for Jean, but Scott felt them too. He understood, remembered Jean sharing it with him. He understood what it meant.

He understood that it was too late.

“We won’t be a part of this,” he said flatly. “Jean, let’s go home.” And he reached out across the bond, touched his mind to hers. When you step away from him, he said, I’ll do it. Be ready to contain the blast. I’m going to take out the controls along with him. No one finishes what he started.

(He didn’t say what he feared --- that, if the controls were left untarnished, the one who was in the most danger of deciding to finish what Erik had started was him.)

JEAN: History repeated itself. It was a lesson that Jean learned a long time ago, perhaps sometime around the thirtieth battle between X-Men and Brotherhood. No matter what they did, no matter how they fought or what they sacrificed, the world would treat them just the same. No matter how long it had been, no matter how many Christmases she arrived on the doorstep and felt like a stranger, the Greys would never be a home like the Institute became — like the Institute had been with both of them in those offices.

If Charles was here now, would he say Jean had failed to learn from his mistakes? Would he say this felt like Cuba, like a moment where metal was flying for a beach and then into a spine? Would he tell the story with the same regret as had flooded through Jean’s mind when Erik showed her the memory — and would there be the same determination as there was with Erik, the same certainty that if the situation was repeated, he would make the same choices?

Erik had been right, of course. Sebastian Shaw deserved a coin through his head more than almost anyone else Jean had ever met — the exception being Jack Winters. It was all in the execution. It was all in the not knowing when to stop, all in Erik pushing it just that little bit too far.

Then again, couldn’t the same be said of Jean herself?

Of course, Jean knew that already. Jean knew that, and she put a contingency plan in place. She called Zatanna to her home, befriended her, trusted her, made Zatanna trust in her — and then she asked a veritable stranger to kill her, believing that she would if push came to shove. Better to lose a single life than to destroy a world. Erik would think with the same pragmatism, if he wasn’t the one being killed.

But he was. He was, and the cool tone of his voice, the way his grip tightened only slightly, the drop in his words as he spoke — Jean almost could’ve sworn he knew it would happen. She was almost positive that it was like that moment out on the lawn right before she took her final breath, when she was capable of fighting back but didn’t, because something deep down inside of her said, this needs to happen. This always needed to happen. Erik would want this.

Erik would want this, and with Lorna and Kara fresh in her mind, Jean very much wanted this too. The darkest parts of her had raised their ugly heads, and Maddie could hear them, she knew. Maddie could feel them long before they clasped hands.

And Scott could feel it too.

We can help you, Jean told Scott, letting the thought bleed through to Maddie’s psyche at the same time. We can sharpen you. I’ve been training — I can give us all the roadmap to make us stronger.

To unlock their true potential. To destroy as they were intended to destroy. To put Erik’s hours of teaching to good use. Almost ironic. Almost tragic.

Jean wished she could feel anything but anger.

She lifted her hand, pulling back only slightly to touch against Erik’s cheek. “I really do love you,” she said, “but I can’t love this.”

Now.

A step back, and Jean closed her eyes, focusing everything on that burning core at the forefront of Scott’s mind, the flames he’d always tried to contain.

SCOTT: Ever since he was young, Scott had learned to hide pieces of himself. It was something that started in his parents’ house, when his father was a retreating back and his mother was a locked door and he had learned to push down the parts of him that needed things in order to make himself easier to love. This tendency grew as he did, and he began burying more and more of himself. When he was trying to impress prospective adoptive parents, he was a chameleon. A woman wearing a cross necklace approached him holding the hand of a man in a suit and Scott found religion in the time it took them to cross the room, spoke of church as if it were a place he had been more than once in order to make himself wanted. A man with glasses and a collared shirt who Essex told him was a teacher saw him carefully reading library books and trying to look intelligent. Every person who walked through the orphanage door met a different version of Scott Summers, and they all left him just the same.

It became natural, of course, to hide his mutation as best he could when it came along, too. At first, when it was just headaches and the occasional blackout that he later discovered were due to Sinister’s experiments, this was simple. Scott could go into his bedroom and lock the door, could throw the blanket over his head and turn out the lights. The other kids thought he was weird, but only in the way kids always thought each other odd. Only in the way schoolyard bullies teased about. It wasn’t until he took out a wall that they realized there was something dangerous there, wasn’t until he was fitted with ruby quartz glasses that hiding became harder. But he tried. Lord, did he try. He pretended the glasses were a fashion choice, prayed for sunny days so he wouldn’t look different, used them as a mask to hide more and more of himself. His powers, he had learned in the beginning, were a part of him, too. And the glasses hid that. It was a familiar sort of comfort.

But now… Now, the person he loved most in the world was telling him to stop hiding. The person he loved so much that she had taught him what love was to begin with was telling him to let go, to open his eyes and let that piece of himself free. And there would be consequences. There were always consequences, when the truth came out. His parents grew more distant when they realized he was a child, full of wants and needs and a selfish desire to be loved. Those families who might have adopted him lost all interest when he dropped the act, even if only for a second. The other kids at the orphanage started treating him more like a bomb than a person when the walls came down. And if he took off his glasses... 

If he took off his glasses, Erik would die. Scott knew this. Scott had known this since the beginning, since the three of them headed here, since before that. If he took off his glasses, there would be broken controls and a body and if there was anything left of his soul, that would be done away with, too. War made everyone a murderer in the end, but Scott had never imagined it would lead him here. If he took off his glasses, he would be killing someone he loved more than anything.

And saving the rest. 

Life was full of terrible choices. It was full of plane crashes where there were four people and one parachute, full of mothers putting that salvation on their childrens’ backs and pushing them out of planes with their baby brothers in their arms and firm instructions not to let go. It was full of scientists who wanted to pick you apart but swore they loved you while they were doing it. It was full of men who found you in the streets and beat you, who told you to be grateful for their fists bruising your ribs because at least it meant someone cared enough about you to make contact. It was full of silos with bombs tucked safely inside and people you loved standing at the controls. It was full of the woman you loved begging you without words to kill her father, full of knowing she might hate you when it was over. If Scott killed Erik, he’d never forgive himself. If he didn’t, he’d hate himself just the same.

Glancing to Jean, Scott set his jaw before looking back to Erik. They locked eyes, even if only for a moment. Neither of them had the telepathy Jean or Maddie boasted and, even if they had, Erik’s helmet would have prevented any kind of connection. Scott offered a silent apology all the same.

The glasses came off. The world was red.

The world was always red.

ERIK: Death wasn’t something that was ever far from Erik’s mind.

The how of it had always been up in the air. When he’d been a child, he’d been certain it’d come at the guns of the Schutzstaffel, or in one of the many arsons that plagued Jewish neighborhoods. He’d thought it might come at the end of Shaw’s pistol, as it had for his mother, or under the man’s knife while he was strapped down for another experiment. Maybe it would come in a workplace accident at the manufacturing plant. Perhaps it would reach him while he was lapping the globe meting out his revenge on ex-Nazis. Or with Sebastian Shaw’s hand around his throat in the reactor room. Or with a bullet he was too slow to stop on a beach a thousand miles from home. Of late, he’d considered that it might come at the hands of the humans, and he’d been prepared despite best-laid plans to die for his people during the siege if that was what it took.

He’d die fighting, though. Always.

(Almost always. There’s another way, one that creeps on him on the bad nights, when alcohol and nicotine and sex or adrenaline aren’t enough to keep the worst thoughts at bay. He wouldn’t die naturally, he’d discovered decades ago when his aging had slowed to nothing more than the scarcest crawl; no, his death, like most of the defining events of his life, was going to be something traumatic. Unless.)

Erik was a survivor, even when those he cared for didn’t make it along with him.

That didn’t mean death was ever very far from reach. The constant little voice reminding him of that fact kept him constantly on edge, constantly paranoid, constantly ready to identify and destroy whatever threat was coming to finish the job so many others had failed.

He’d imagined death many times, but he’d never imagined it coming from his family. Dying to protect his family was one thing, something he would accept in a heartbeat. But dying at their hands was another story entirely. .

(Shaw laughs, somewhere, and grins that poisonous, condescending grin and chides him for being so soft. You knew better than that, didn’t you? )

Maybe he should have. Maybe this was history repeating itself, and Erik blinding himself to it because he’d never known how to care with only half a heart. Maybe love was a far more fickle thing for everyone else than he’d ever really given it credit for.

Magda, twirling with him in the cabin he’d built them with his own two hands as music crackled out of their record player, Anya standing on his toes between them, had looked every bit as in love as he was. Until she wasn’t. Until a circle of humans who had attacked their home, murdered their daughter, lay at his feet, and there was no amount of love he could’ve given that would’ve stilled her feet as she ran.

Suzanna, constantly casting her eyes at the door, murmuring how much more she enjoyed his presence than that of her husband, how much she wished she could stay. Until the clock ticked past eleven. Until she got up, issuing apology after apology, and left to return to the human man who finger-shaped bruises on her arms and throat, who left her flinching at loud noises and still was worth more.

Charles, grinning at him over a chessboard or laughing as they tossed flour at each other in the kitchen, who had told him that the Institute was his home as long as he wanted it. Until it wasn’t. Until there was a sea of humans firing missiles at his family, and suddenly his usefulness as a weapon wasn’t quite so appreciated when it was turning those very missiles at the humans. Suddenly it was we don’t want the same thing and disappointed eyes and a gentle push until Erik let his place be taken by the human who seconds before had tried to end his life.

It was all love, until it came to humans on the receiving end of Erik’s fire, and then this. And then it was Jean, looking him in the eyes and saying ’I really do love you, but.’

But.

She said it, but those words didn’t reach her eyes. There was no love there, no warmth, nothing recognizable as the little girl he’d come to think of as a daughter at the Institute or the woman he’d danced with at her wedding just a few months ago. Her mouth said ‘I love you,’ but everything else in her posture, in her face, in her eyes, said but.

’I can’t love this.’

Erik would laugh if his chest didn’t feel like it’d been cracked open at the cold expression, so incongruent with the hand brushing his cheek but perfectly aligned with the words falling from her lips. Because of course. Of course.

“Just like your father.” The words tasted like ash.

Erik wasn’t sure what line everyone else seemed to see, between the Erik they loved and this. Between whatever they always thought he was, and what they inevitably saw in the moment before everything fell apart. It didn’t matter how honest he was about his beliefs, about his intentions, about any of it. He’d tried; g-d, how he’d tried.

He loved so much, but. I can’t love this. Something in him was clearly broken, clearly unlovable, and Erik wasn’t sure when Jean had seen it. How much of the love he’d thought he saw before was an act and how much was real. Pathetic.

(How could it have been real? Why would it have been? Love didn’t just disappear, and if it wasn’t there now, it hadn’t been there at all. Had he simply been a matter of convenience? A weapon useful to avenge Scott, but not once it had a mind of its own. Useful until he wasn’t.)

She stepped back, and Erik’s gaze skipped across her and Maddie, until finally his eyes caught Scott’s, through the quartz.

He knew what was going to happen. Scott’s fingers had already slid up to the visor, and it was a pantomime of that scene in the hospital waiting room last week. A moment where Erik had to weigh his chances. .

He could stop Scott, if he tried. Simply turn off the man’s synapses, and he’d be dead before he hit the floor. He could do it to Jean too, quite probably. Maddie.

He could do it, and he could fire the missiles, and he could walk away from this silo with the life he’d managed to sustain against all odds for over ninety years. He could return to Lorna’s bedside and watch her wake up, ensure that she wouldn’t wake up alone. There would be no more human problems, and his daughter would be awake and at his side, wouldn’t be left an orphan when she woke up, and it was a possibility close enough to taste.

But love didn’t disappear, and Erik loved Jean Grey. He loved her, loved Scott, loved Maddie, despite her relative novelty and incessant annoyances, and there was no force in the universe that was going to make him murder his own children. Certainly not to save his own skin.

I’m sorry, Lorna.

Scott flipped his visor.

The world went red, pain slammed into his chest, and the red slipped into black. Erik was dead before he hit the floor.

JEAN: Just like your father.

There was one part of Jean that she knew was her own. The Phoenix came to her at eighteen, sunk its talons into her shoulders and remained an occasionally silent, oftentimes loud companion for decades after. For a long time, she thought that was a blessing — thought its influence prevented death, inspired life, protected her family. Now, she knew better. She knew she was a passenger in her own body, a prisoner to her own impulses. The Phoenix took her anger and made it bigger than compassion, bigger than logic, bigger than love. But there was one part, a part Erik had facilitated, a part that had grown in her since she was barely ten years old.

Jean Grey was a soldier. Like her husband, like her best friends, like the only true parents she’d ever known. She was a soldier, and that meant when something needed done, she could compartmentalise. She could bury emotions, could get the deed done. She could appear in Charles’ office covered in blood, could stomach his disappointment, could understand that it needed to be done regardless.

Did he know this was the outcome, all those years the X-Men faced off against the Brotherhood? Was it the Phoenix, or merely an inevitability? After all, the bird brought truth — it painted Jean as the villain she must’ve been, showed the parts of her she tried so desperately to hide. Did Charles know Erik had to die? Was that why he sent their daughter, instead of facing off on the battleline himself?

Did Charles know just how much this would hurt?

Anger, bitter and curling in her gut, had a brief flash of vindication as the silo filled with red — and then it was like the air was knocked from her lungs. She heard a screeching, loud and desperate and animalistic, felt something pulled from her chest and saw it in the centre of their circle like a flickering candle, like a flame that never went out.

A flame that could be injured. A flame that wasn’t running through her veins, wasn’t blocking her emotions, wasn’t feeding that fire of rage that had been building since Kara, since Lorna’s revelation, since she walked in and saw weapons of mass destruction pointed towards the very people they promised to co-exist peacefully with.

This was Jean Grey. Authentic. Unchanged. She sucked in a breath of charged air, blinked to remove the specks of light from her vision, and saw Erik lying before her.

Jean Grey. Authentic, unchanged, alone for the first time since she was eighteen years old. Devastated.

The power left her legs, and the skin on her knees tore as she scrambled towards him, hands bunching in the front of Erik’s shirt.

(There was dancing around his office. There were kisses pressed to the top of her head, whispered promises of safety. There were lessons of self acceptance, lessons he’d never been able to finish before they splintered. There was that absence, huge, gaping, constantly a source of pain and desperation that fuelled their confrontations. There was relief when he smiled at her in that restaurant, in the hundreds of conversations since.

She would miss him until her dying day.)

Jean’s shaking hands moved to hover over his chest, telekinesis knitting the wound that burned red together. A medic’s instinct — a trained propensity towards healing, towards fixing problems that appeared before her. A daughter’s last act, because Jean knew Erik Lehnsherr needed to die. She knew that.

It just hadn’t occurred to her that he needed to be dead.

(Death wasn’t peaceful. Jean knew this. Death meant being alone in a white, hot room, watching the rest of the world carry on in your absence. Death meant constructing visions, knowing there was no tangibility to them. Death meant being alone, and she never wanted him to be alone. There was a screeching, and this time it was her.)

Jean leaned down, trembling fingers touching against his face. He wasn’t cold, but he would be soon. He would be cold and covered in dirt, and there would be no fight or fury or argument or pounding hearts. There would be no handcrafted music boxes or father to dance with on her wedding anniversary.

A tear dripped onto his cheek, and Jean rested her forehead against his. “I’ll keep you warm,” she whispered, voice barely more than a breath. He could hear her, though. She had to believe that. (She had to be good enough, had to be loud enough, for him to hear her just one more time.) “You’re just asleep, Dad. It won’t be too long, and I’ll come. Promise.”

Soldiers didn’t die of old age. Erik always knew that.

She wrapped her arms around him just as the Force returned to her, body bracing for impact and still being taken off guard. Cracks appeared in her skin, exposed arms and hands glowing orange, and she heard the whisper.

Pray to me, Jean Grey. We can bring him back.

She was so much stronger than she had been, no longer in pieces. Through tear-filled eyes, Jean looked up at Scott, heart thudding hard when she saw he was still standing — and the same with her sister. Her sister, the machination, still alive. Maddie was real.

And Erik was dead.

Jean lay down by his side, arm around his waist. The embers flickered against his still body, but they didn’t enter. They didn’t raise him.

“I can’t use her,” Jean whispered, again to Erik. (He couldn’t hear her. Her abilities showed no aura, no pulse in his neck. He was gone, but she talked regardless. He was in the dark, and in all the times Jean had died she’d never been able to see Annie again, never been able to find her. But she wouldn’t stop trying.) “This one is on me.”

The Phoenix moved for her grief, for the guilt, and Jean turned her away. She wanted to feel it all.

He feels nothing now. Why must you suffer?

The bird still had so much to learn. (That was exactly why.)(edited)

MADDIE: Red bled into Maddie’s vision, a bright light that filled the silo and painted a picture that was inevitable, but no one wanted to see. Red turned to spotty blackness as all air was zapped from the woman’s lungs. There was an almost peacefulness to the quiet nothingness that washed over Maddie for a long moment. She couldn’t explain it, why she felt like something had splintered, cracks in the foundation that were spidering out. She didn’t know what was happening; why she felt like she had died alongside Erik.

There was nothing, inky blackness wrapping around her like a shock blanket and leaving her numb.

Was this grief? Was this nothingness to protect herself or something entirely else, wrong and foreign? Alongside a screeching that Maddie swore was so, so close but so very far away at the same time.

There was nothing to feel in this vast empty Maddie could feel herself in. No bitterness at how she knew she should be feeling a certain way, a regret or a trickle of grief to follow what had happened. There was nothing. She should feel something. Erik was a good man despite it all, a great man even. The closest thing to a dad Maddie could call, accepting her as the rest of the family had without too many questions. .

On the other hand, Maddie was filled with entirely too many of them. Was the emptiness because of the growing disconnect from those she was calling family? That when they were in the same room as her she felt like there was a silent, but clear divide between them and her? Was she the one who had put that line there or had it manifested itself? She had too many questions and no answers, a craving to find as many answers as she could without fracturing what fragile balance existed between them all.

There wasn’t much longer Maddie could linger on it in the darkness when she was forced back to the present with a rush of something slamming back into her. Air filled her lungs as her fingers twitched and she saw fiery cracks in her skin slowly fade away. Her eyes flickered over to Erik on the floor and Jean moving to lay down beside him. The quietness in the room felt deafening.

“Jean…” Maddie said softly, unsure even what she wanted to say, what she could say. Her heart should be breaking, should be filled with the grief that she saw painted over her sister’s own face. Instead, she felt nothing.

Moving towards the pair, Maddie carefully sat down on the floor behind Jean. Her fingers brushed over red hair, carefully stroking over the strands and staying silent amongst the grief. Comfort she could try, despite the pain she knew was filling every inch of the room.

SCOTT: There was a split second, when tragedy struck, where nothing happened at all. It was the moment after you jumped from the plane but before the parachute caught you, the moment after the blood blossomed over the stomach of the girl you loved but before she hit the ground, the moment after the bullet tore through your chest but before the pain struck you. The moment after you opened your eyes, but before that red blast faded. It was too late to turn back, in that moment. The terrible thing had already happened. There was no stopping it, no pulling it back in. You couldn’t go back to the plane, couldn’t force a heart to beat, couldn’t stop the blood from filling up your lungs. You couldn’t stop the blast from landing. You couldn’t make that moment last. In that split second, things were okay, but that split second always ended. The tragedy always clawed its way to the surface.

And this was no different.

Erik fell. There was no grace to it, no beauty. It was quick and unceremonious and violent, because death always was. No one ever looked pretty when they died. No one ever looked at ease. Death was a tsunami, a hurricane, a horrible and dreadful thing that put a pit in your stomach and filled you with a cold unease. Erik fell, and Scott sucked a breath. It felt like there was something hot was in his chest. When he exhaled, he pushed it out. He didn’t mean to, didn’t intend to. He might wonder, later, if he would have exhaled had he known what he would lose. He might wonder if he could have held it inside of him forever if he’d only held his breath. He might wonder if he’d wanted to. But wondering, in the end, rarely did anyone any good.

Scott exhaled. Erik’s body hit the ground. Jean fell to her knees. And everything slammed into him at once. .

The heat left him, like a forest fire exiting his lungs. He gasped a breath, desperate and drowning, and when he exhaled the fire he inhaled the smoke. Everything came rushing back to him all at once. There was no more cold voice in his head whispering to him about what needed to be done. There was no more strange disconnect from how he felt. There was no more icy anger chilling his veins. There was no more Phoenix. Instead, there was Scott. There was Scott, in a room with three people he loved and one of them was on the ground. There was Scott, with his eyes still burning red. There was Scott, feeling everything all at once.

Grief, when it was thick enough, became a tangible thing. It thickened the air around it, made it heavy and hot. It settled onto your chest, curled its hands around your throat. It suffocated you. It shoved your head underwater, held you there until your kicking stopped and the bubbles ceased to escape to the surface. It killed you piece by bloody piece, and Scott hadn’t had many pieces left. He’d already been shattered. But now…

Erik’s body was in the floor, and Scott had put it there. Jean was crouched over him with Maddie at her side, their grief as tangible as his own. In New York, there were graves with the Greys names all lined up side by side, and they had hated him but there had been a time when they hadn’t. There had been a time where they’d invited him to dinner, where they had accepted him. Derry was in a house in Genosha, and she didn’t know who he was. Lorna was in a hospital bed, fighting for her life. Scott had died, had been buried, had come back wrong. Erik was dead. Erik was dead, Erik was dead. And Scott was feeling it all at once. He was underwater, he was drowning, and he didn’t know if he wanted to make it to the surface. He didn’t know if he deserved to. .

His legs didn’t give out underneath him, and this felt wrong. It felt unnatural, like the tree in the forest that grew sideways, parallel to the ground. There shouldn’t be anything holding it up. Gravity should have an easy task pushing it the rest of the way down, but it stood. It stood still and unnatural and wrong, and you kept thinking that someone was going to take an axe to it one day just to finish the goddamn job but no one ever did and it stayed there. Scott stayed on his feet but he shouldn’t have. He shouldn’t have.

He thought Jean might have been talking. He thought Maddie might have been, too. He didn’t think either of them were speaking to him, and he didn’t know how to tune back into the world to find out. The grief was so heavy, and without the Phoenix’s cold rage in his veins, there was nothing to distract from it. There was nothing to turn to. There was grief and there was nothing else. There was no room for anything else.

(He remembered, again, the way Jean spoke of the Phoenix. He remembered how she’d told him it maximized your emotions, made them so big that the world couldn’t expand to hold them. He wondered how his felt bigger without it. He wondered how the world could possibly be vast enough to fit this much anguish, how the weight of it hadn’t knocked the planet off its axis, how the world could still turn when Erik was dead and Scott had killed him. He wondered how anything would ever move passed this moment. He wondered if they might just stay like this forever.)

The world was somehow both quieter and louder with the Phoenix gone, contradiction waiting around every bend, and Scott didn’t recognize the presence of another person in the room until the door slammed shut. He didn’t feel her approach, didn’t sense her coming, didn’t notice anything but his grief and Jean’s grief and Maddie’s grief and the way it all flowed through the bond like a river trying to go in three directions at once. .

(And had he been in a better frame of mind, he might have recognized something different about that third stream. Had he been able to focus on anything but his head underwater, he might have wondered why the things coming from Maddie felt so different than the rest.)

He turned back when he felt her, used all the strength he had just to tear his gaze away from the floor, from Jean, from Maddie, from Erik. His heart seized in his chest, and that tsunami, that hurricane, it hit him all over again. “Lorna.”

(He choked on her name. It felt more like an apology than a word, more like guilt than a person. Like her name was the closest thing to sorry his voice could manage.)

LORNA: She was drowning. Her limbs as heavy as lead, useless to her as she sank like a stone, but the pain in her chest had far less to do with the water she’d gasped in and more to do with the hole that had been punched through her. And then she’d thought it was over. Lorna had thought about death before. How she’d die, when she’d die. If she wanted to. There had been times when she’d imagined it would be something like this, taken out by hateful humans she’d picked a fight with. Or who’d picked a fight with her. She hadn’t thought it would be tonight. 

And then it wasn’t. Then there was that brief moment of air before darkness swallowed her back up again like it had under the water. But her heart beat on, struggling at first but beating nonetheless. Lorna, none the wiser. 

Until now. 

Darkness and pain were the last things she remembered. Only fitting that darkness and pain be the first things she was aware of now. The pain was far more dulled now, no longer consuming her as it had been. She lay there, in the darkness, for a few moments, as she slowly rose out of unconsciousness. Finally, a week after they’d closed, her eyes blinked open. 

As soon as she did, it was like her other senses flipped a switch. The beeping of the heart monitor and the humming of the oxygen machine filled her ears. She could smell the antiseptics used to keep her wounds clean overlaying the smells of Erik’s house and her room here. While the blankets were familiar and reassuring–far more so than a hospital would’ve been–the mask on her face and the drip in her arm suddenly felt very uncomfortable. Lorna turned her head to find an empty chair. One that was not usually placed by this bed. A vigil left empty?

She struggled to sit up, inhaling sharply at the pain that any movement in her chest caused. Never one to not be stubborn, Lorna still managed, and pulled the oxygen mask from her face. She could breathe without it now. The drip, she was a little more hesitant to touch. Better to wait for Jean. Lorna trusted that Jean wouldn’t force her to keep it if it wasn’t needed. The heart monitor didn’t like when she tried to take that off her finger and Lorna didn’t know how to turn it off–bar simply using her powers to knock it out–so that stayed too. Instead, Lorna leant back against pillows, wondering how long she would lie here before anyone would know she was awake. 

No more than a minute could have passed before she felt it. A shock wave washed through her, one of magnetic energy. Magnetic energy that was far too familiar. Something was wrong. She knew it in her gut. It startled her back up, ignoring the pain. Lorna had to find out what had happened. She pulled the heart monitor from her finger and the IV from her arm, paying no mind to the bleeding nor the way the monitor protested. Her bare feet hit the carpet, and by all accounts she should have not felt as steady on them as she did. Something fueled her, filling her with a strength she should not yet have back. The thought crossed her mind for a moment, but the siren call of that magnetic pulse was too much to ignore.  

It screamed wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Something was wrong.

That feeling carried her out of the house, pulling her like a compass to north. Neither the shock of cool air on her skin nor the damp grass beneath her bare feet even slowed her down. Her powers reached out ahead of her, trying to search for what it was that felt like the world was turning upside down. And why it felt so familiar. Like she’d been here before. Like she’d felt this before. 

Later, Lorna would come to realise she had known before she even got to the silos what she would find. Not the specifics, but her powers let her view the world as electromagnetic signals. People gave off their own energies, energies she mostly tried to ignore for the sake of her sanity living in a city as massive as New York. Some people’s energies were stronger and more familiar to her. 

One was practically just an inversion of her own.  

It was that one she had felt from her bedroom, echoing out like a shock wave. Like the aftershocks of an explosion. And if she had stopped to reach for it now, she would have known. She would have felt nothing. Well, not nothing. Even dead bodies felt like something. Lorna knew that all too well. But not the energy she needed to find.

She came to the door of the silo, footsteps practically silent. Her voice was stolen from her chest as she finally found the source of the explosion. 

Lorna stood in shock. She could barely see the way Jean grieved or Maddie comforted her or Scott stood still. All she could see was him. Erik. Dead. Not dying as she had been when Rictor brought her back, not an avenging force as he had been when he found her in the forest twenty years ago. Dead. If she could even notice anything else, she would’ve felt how that strength that had carried her here seemed to grow amongst the grief. If that grief had not been so overwhelming.

Without speaking, she reached a hand out. Metal scraped against the concrete ground, echoing in the quiet. Erik’s helmet flew from his body to her outstretched hand, where Lorna clutched it tight. The door slammed shut behind her, echoing in the heavy silence. 

Her eyes finally moved from Erik to find Maddie, then Jean, then Scott. Her eyes stayed on him, the smoking gun that was Erik’s body giving her all the evidence she needed. 

“Scott. What the fuck have you done?”