#He still would never dream of going against Nine's wishes

[hadesknockedupintheunderworld]

What if I was insane again about the first thing Alpha Grim Sonic hearing when Nine creates him is his purpose—that he is Nine's friend?

Friendship as a concept in Prime is handled interestingly among its main characters. As Sonic (who thinks he knows a lot about friendship) comes to deepen his understanding of what it means to have a home/be home, I think it's safe to say his definition of friendship develops along with it. Compare this to Nine, who's learned everything he knows about "friendship" and personal relationships in general through his relationship with Sonic (at least, after his childhood of bullying).

So of course I think about Nine, who never wants to be hurt again, yet can no longer bear feeling alone (not after feeling that sense of companionship and belonging with someone else), which results in him creating a warped version of friendship for himself (one where he is surrounded by people, but people who only do whatever he wants, who have no opinions and thoughts of their own, who can't backstab him). And so I think about Alpha Grim Sonic, who is the very first robot Nine creates under this idea of frienship and companionship.

Nine is his master, and Alpha Grim Sonic is his protector, his bodyguard, his weapon

But he's also his friend.

Alpha Grim Sonic doesn’t talk back (can't even if he wanted to), but his purpose has always been clear to him: be Nine's friend. That's what he was created to be.

So I imagine Alpha Grim Sonic performing his purpose to the T at first under Nine's framework. He's Nine's friend, so he does whatever Nine commands, he never talks back or challenges authority, he protects Nine at all cost. And then, perhaps unbeknownst to Nine, he begins to shift ever so gradually. Sure, he's never insubordinate, he never offers up opinions, he still can't speak, but the lines of devotion begin to blur.

Is it in his code? Is out of a real sense of feeling?

Alpha Grim Sonic does not understand friendship, no matter whether it believes it does or not. But it's ironic to me if, despite being created under Nine's warped idea of it, the robot slowly grows their own soul, witnesses other displays of frienship and care, and drifts outside the bounds of that idea (a carefully crafted painting begins to leak out of its frame, expanding the masterpiece). They protect Nine, they do only what he commands, and yet they hate to see Nine in pain, they wish to bring Nine comfort (and so it feels good to him when Nine commands him to do such things that might bring his master comfort).

Does this make any sense? To believe that friendship means to hold one person on a pedestal, to protect them, to only listen to them, to never talk back, to never have opinions, and yet, despite believing what your creator tells you of friendship with them (your very purpose in this existence), to slowly fall further into those feelings that true care and love for another person brings, to wish to comfort someone the way one might describe a true friend would, despite not realizing any of this.

[hxney-lemcn]

Late Night Chaos — Daisuke x gn! reader

summery: things aren't looking too good, so the crew decides to open the cargo hold and find out just what you were delivering.

tw: nothing that isn't in the game.

a/n: Updates might be a bit more spaced apart, but I'm gonna see this to the end. I refuse to give up on it.

wc: 2k

Master List

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven | Part Eight | Part Nine

“I didn’t even wanna do this stupid internship.”

An admission into the night you're sure you weren’t meant to hear. Your insomnia grew worse, unable to get Curly’s painful screams out of your head or the plight you all found yourself. Only two months have passed, and you weren’t sure if anyone was even looking for you. Did Pony Express even have any tracking system to see if ships were down? Would they search when it was already too late? 

Your pessimism was shining through, but you tried to keep it to yourself, not wanting to smother Daisuke’s hope. It seems even he was prone to dark thoughts, but you’d be more concerned if he wasn’t worried at all. 

“If I just told my mom no I could be home right now,” Daisuke continued to mutter to himself. “Who am I kidding, I could never tell my mom no.”

“I wish you did,” you replied, eyes still closed and curled up in a ball.

“Y-you’re awake?” Daisuke gasped, but you made no sign of movement.

“Hmm,” you hummed, pressing your face farther into your pillow. “I wish you weren’t here.” Your words were harsh, causing the brunette to hesitate. You had gotten harsher after the crash, becoming more blunt.

But you had also gotten softer somehow. Sending him mixed signals, your harsh words softened when you gently stroked his cheek, eyes finally opening to meet his own. Anger, fear, sympathy, regret, so many emotions spun in your jewel colored eyes he almost felt dizzy. 

“I wish we met before this,” Daisuke said, voice cracking as he felt pressure form behind his eyes. Shit, he didn’t wanna cry, he had to be strong, for you and the rest of the crew. 

Your fingers brushed under his eye, catching a tear that was threatening to fall. Your silence felt warm, inviting, your gaze broke him, the dam breaking as his wishes spilled past his lips.

“I wish we were back on Earth. Hanging out in my room and this all just ended up being a bad dream. My mom calling us for dinner and everything is okay.” 

He was crying now, fat tears falling down his cheeks as you continued to stroke them. Daisuke wrapped his arms around your form, burying his face in your neck as he let out strangled sobs, not wanting to wake the others.

“I’m sorry,” You murmured into his hair, gently running your nails up and down his back in a soothing manner. “You don’t deserve this, none of us do.” 

…

“We ain’t touching the damn cargo,” Swansea argued. “The hold is locked down for a reason. The only thing worse than dyin’ slowly is not gettin’ paid.”

The whole argument seemed redundant. It seemed that Swansea was the only one against opening the cargo hold. He was a stubborn old fool in your opinion. If your speculation is right, and you won’t be looked for until your ship doesn’t come on time, then you’ll all have died from either starvation or lack of oxygen. Both those options seemed terrible to choose from, but a long, drawn out death was worse than a short painful one. For all you knew, you all were shipping food, or water, or something that could keep you all going just a bit longer. Especially since the cryo chambers were out of commission (not like there were enough for the six of you anyway. Besides, Curly had no chance to survive the freeze due to his wounds). 

“But it could be something useful,” Anya argued back. “I think-”

“Could be what?” Swansea cut her off. “Hopes, dreams and marzipan? Hah!”

“Could be food,” You interjected, glaring at the oldest of the crew. “Protein bars, chips, hell maybe we’re lucky enough to be carrying canned goods.”

“If it helps us survive it’s worth it,” Jimmy added with a nod. 

“Man,” Daisuke spoke up. “Pony Express bosses really aren’t chill at all, huh? C’mon, a quick look won’t hurt.” 

You nodded in agreement before Swansea brought up a good point, “How exactly is this group therapy committee planning on gettin’ in there?”

“Oh, right here boss,” Daisuke pointed to himself with a smug grin. “You’re looking at the meanest swing of the regional junior baseball team! Nearly straight up corked a kid once! I can take the utility ax-” You couldn’t stop the snort that came out of you, hiding your face behind your hands as everyone looked at you with various emotions. 

“You were goddamn born fully corked,” Swansea glowered, face twisted in a harsh sneer. 

“That’s enough, Swansea,” Jimmy intervened. “There has to be an ‘in case of emergency’ way inside.”

“If I remember correctly from reading the safety protocols…” Anya trailed off. “The doors should have an alternate access code, but it can only be uncovered using a code scanner device.”

“And only the captain has access to the scanner,” Jimmy continued. 

“Of course! Go ahead, just ask him all about it then,” Swansea mocked. “Maybe he’ll sing ya the blues too.”

“We can just look for the scanner,” You brought up. “It’s probably either in the captain's quarters or the cockpit.”

“I’ll figure it out,” Jimmy waved you off. “For better or worse, I’m captain now.” You tried your best to hide the offended look that fell on your face, but it was hard to do so when Jimmy rubbed you the wrong way. Sure, it made the most sense for him to be acting captain since he was Curly’s co-pilot, but you didn’t like the way he acted like he had to do everything himself. It was giving you ‘I need to do everything my way and feel better about myself’. 

“Right on!” Daisuke cheered, before you all split your ways. Anya ran off to medical, Swansea stopped Daisuke from following him while Jimmy probably went towards the cockpit. That left you and Daisuke to sit in the rest area, the led screen shone an image of a warm sunset, permanently stuck after the crash. 

“You really think there might be food in the cargo?” Daisuke asked, resting his head against the top of the chair.

“It’s probably wishful thinking,” You grumbled, taking the seat across from him.

“Damn,” He sighed. “I was kinda hopin’ for something other than soup.” 

“You dissing soup?” You asked, raising your eyebrows. “I’ll take your portion too if you don’t want it.” Wait! No!” Daisuke exclaimed with a chuckle. “I take it back, I mean I love love love soup and want to eat it every day!”

“You’re such a dork,” You laughed, gently kicking his foot. 

The door slid open, halting your conversation as Jimmy walked up to you both. He stared at you both intently, and you felt a bit uncomfortable at the irritable stare in his eyes. You slowly realized he always looked that way.

“Looks like it’ll be soup again for dinner,” Daisuke spoke up first. “You wanna rock paper scissors for the chicken noodle?”

“That’s my favorite,” You pouted. Daisuke tended to make you feel more relaxed, no matter the situation.  “Ah, nevermind then,” He sighed. “It’s theirs.” Gosh, he never failed to make you feel warm either, even in your dire circumstances. 

“How much food do we have left?” Jimmy cut in, ignoring your banter altogether. 

“I’d say four months-ish,” Daisuke replied. 

“Hmm, less than the remaining air supply, but we can make it last,” Jimmy muttered to himself holding a hand up to his chin. “In theory. We’ll be poking new holes in our belts to pull that off.” The thought of starving unsettled you, but it was an unfortunate possibility. But then the question is how much air supply is left? That was something you couldn’t conserve…well, unless someone died…but even then it wouldn’t be much.

“Man, my mom will straight up stuff me when I get back,” Daisuke laughed, trying to keep the atmosphere light. “I’ll look like Swansea!” You chuckled bittersweetly, shaking your head amusedly. “We’ll have a rad story to tell,” Daisuke continued, looking between you and Jimmy with a strained smile. “They might even write articles about us. We could be on TV!” Once again there was a pit in your stomach. No matter the outcome, you were sure to appear on TV…

Jimmy also seemed uncomfortable, eyes shifting, and posture ridgid, “Uh, it’ll impress the ladies too.” You nearly broke out laughing at how awkward Jimmy was, coughing into your fist to hide it. Even funnier was it seemed he didn’t realize you and Daisuke were already in a relationship.

Daisuke looked confused, glancing at you briefly before uttering a confused, “Uh…yeah…the real problem is running out of toilet paper. Fatal stuff, man.” This time you couldn’t smother your laughter, hiding your face from the two men before you. 

“Seriously!” Daisuke emphasized, grin turning brighter at your laughter. “We should leave that part out for the press.”

“Totally,” You agreed. “Wouldn’t want the ladies to know.” This time Daisuke snorted, Jimmy nodding uncomfortably before leaving. The two of you cackled for a few more seconds before calming down.

“I thought everyone already knew we were dating,” Daisuke said, confused. “Not like we’ve been hiding it.”

“Just goes to show how much he cares,” You shrugged with a sigh. 

“You think he got the code scanner?” He asked, tilting his head slightly.

“I’d think so,” You nodded. “Wanna head to the cargo hold?”

“Yeah.”

…

Mouthwash. 

You were hauling fucking mouthwash. 

It felt like a tiny bit of your sanity slipped away. You weren’t the only one though, everyone looking at the contents of the box in disbelief. 

“Mouthwash?” Anya asked in a shaky voice.

“Un-fucking-believable,” Swansea cursed. 

“There’s gotta be an ocean of the stuff in here!” Daisuke exclaimed. “The room looks freakin’ endless!” You felt dizzy staring at the rows upon rows of shelves, boxes stacked to the brim on each one. 

“This is what they’d have six people hauling for over a year?” Jimmy scoffed in disbelief. “All of this…for mouthwash?!” You tensed slightly at his shout, but quickly focused on Anya as she spoke up.

“The sugar content probably offsets any potential as a disinfectant…” Anya informed, reading the ingredient content. Great, this was completely and totally useless-

“Disinfectant? What’re you-” Swansea grumbles. “Let me see that!” Snatching the bottle Swansea reads the contents as well. “Fourteen percent ethanol.” Suddenly he bursts out laughing, seeming a bit manic. 

“Haha?” Daisuke gave a confused laugh, clearly not understanding the implications. “I s’pose we’ll smell good at least…?”  “That’s right kiddo! You can bet your ass on that!” Swansea continued to laugh. 

“W-what are you doing?” Anya stuttered, eyes wide in concern. “Stop that!” Instead, Swansea starts to chug the blue liquid, causing your stomach to churn. 

“Whew-whee,” Swansea, sighs. “Ohhh, shut up. I’m just an ol’ codger taking care of his dental hygiene.”

“You hear that?” Swansea continues, glancing at you all. “That’s the sound of fifteen years of sobriety popping like a cyst. A glorious, magnificent, red hot cyst. Good riddance and cheers! To Captain Curly! Hear, hear!”

“Guess anyone could get seriously blasted off of this stuff,” Daisuke mutters loud enough for us all to hear. 

“Yeah, and give you a seriously bad stomach ache,” You grumbled. 

“And kill you in the process,” Jimmy huffed. 

“This can’t be real,” Anya bemoans. “I-There’s no way…”

“Now we can go out in style,” Swansea grins nihilistically. “Daisuke! Come here! Anyone ever teach you how to drink like a man?” 

You felt your stomach drop, one alcoholic was bad enough, you would be damned to let Swansea drag Daisuke down with him. 

“C’mon,” You muttered, grabbing Daisuke’s hand and dragging him past the rest of the crew, head down. 

“Somthin’ wrong?” Daisuke asks once you're both back in the main hull. 

You blinked at him like he was dumb, “Seriously? This whole situation is wrong! And now Swansea’s out of commission if he’s gonna nurse that goddamned mouthwash!” You let out a frustrated sigh, running your hand through your hair. 

“And he’s trying to take you down with him.”

“I won’t drink it if that’s what you’re worried about,” Daisuke mumbles softly, eyes filled with concern. 

You side-eyed him, feeling anxiety claw at your chest, “And how do I know you’ll keep that promise?”

Daisuke opened his mouth, but nothing came out, confirming your fears.

[fqreverwinter]

“enchanted”

— — — —

relationship: loki x fem!reader

summary: you meet loki in a chance encounter at the winter ball, and he absolutely steals your heart. but the encounter ended much too soon, leaving you wondering if he ever felt the same way.

warnings: none! :)

word count: 3.2k

notes: WOW has it been a while! i honestly lost interest in posting, but i never lost interest in writing. i finally had the energy to finish this short that i began after speak now (tv) was released last summer, and i couldn’t not share it. so please enjoy!!!! it is inspired by enchanted (tv) by taylor swift!!

masterlist

The grand ballroom of the Asgardian palace was aglow with warm lights and excited chatter. The golden walls radiated from the energy of the party. The floor was filled with men and women: talking, dancing, laughing, and drinking.

It was the annual winter celebration ball. Royalty, politicians, and socialites from all nine realms were invited to Asgard to celebrate the winter season and accomplishments from the past year. It was an exclusive yet highly-anticipated event. Everyone dreamed of an invite to the party. Ladies commissioned dresses months in advance, hoping to be the most beautiful girl there.

It was your first year in attendance. Your parents had gone ever since you were born. Your father was a consult to the Asgardian throne, hailing from Vanaheim. He traveled across the realms at least twice a year, always including this illustrious event. You dreamt of going since you were little. You constantly daydreamed of the dress you would wear, how you would do your makeup, and all the boys that you would dance with.

At sixteen, you were finally of age to come. Your mother helped you pick out the dress you were currently donning: a stunning dark green ball gown, draped in velvet and adorned with gold pearls. It was everything you could have ever dreamed of. You felt absolutely stunning.

However, the ball itself was dreadfully boring to you. You expected to be blown away by the crowd, having the most enriching conversations and dancing until dawn with a handful of young men. But you were stuck against a pillar, crossing your arms as you scanned the floor.

You were let down. In your mind, this ball was a scene for magic and ultimate grandeur. It was a fairytale - something you would have read in a book when you were little. But now that you were here, you realized it was nothing like that. It was a political scene, a show of wealth. There was nothing for you to do; no boys to whisk you away or girls to gossip with in the corner.

A few people spoke to you in the beginning when your parents were still by your side. They asked you about basic things, such as your studies and your interests. Nothing deeper than surface-level information. You faked smiles and laughs during these conversations, ignoring the pit of disappointment deep in your stomach. As your parents disappeared deeper into the party, so did your social interactions.

The golden walls once lit with excitement became dull. Everything seemed like a facade. There was no real beauty in this room. It was a show, an insincere display for you to judge others and for others to judge you. It no longer seemed like a privilege to be invited, more like a formality.

You sighed and leaned further into the pillar. You looked around, noticing others faking laughs and making faces at those they did not like. You wished you were home in bed with a book, not hiding in a corner in a dress that was feeling gradually more suffocating.

Suddenly, you saw him. A pair of striking blue eyes met yours from across the room. Your heart skipped a beat as you locked in on him. Unable to look away, you took in his features: those beautiful eyes, raven hair, pale skin, sharp cheekbones. He was tall, thin, and utterly graceful. But his eyes—oh, those eyes. They were bright yet broken, sparkling yet sad. You felt like you could see his whole life in his eyes. They were fixated on you, as you were fixated on them. He seemed to be searching his mind, perhaps wondering if he had seen you somewhere before.  Your mind began to race when you noticed his silhouette moving closer and closer to you, pushing past others in the crowd. His eyes were still focused on you.

He made his way up the steps, now just a few feet away from you. You reached for the emerald charm on your necklace and began to nervously fidget with it as he approached you.

"You don't seem too pleased to be here," he said with a smile.

Your mouth ran dry. His voice was smooth and deep, cutting through the chatter like a knife. It was so attractive and charming, but shocked you at the same time. And that smile. He seemed so sincere in a place filled with falsities. Yet, he still came off playful and fun. You cleared your throat and collected your thoughts.

"Yes, well, it's awfully dull if you don't get off on gloating."

He laughed, "Says the girl in the green gown that takes up half the room."

"I had different expectations for tonight," you muttered, looking down. He chuckled and extended his hand.

"Loki."

You looked back up at him, his hand still out but yours still gripping your necklace.

"Like the prince?"

"I suppose so," he replied. Your eyes widened as you finally took his hand, shaking it lightly as you said your name.

"To be quite frank, I am also bored out of my mind. What do you say we get out of here?" Loki asked with a mischievous grin.

You furrowed your eyebrows. "To where?"

"Not far. Just around the corner. We'll still be close enough to keep an eye on the party."

You nodded hesitantly. He tightened his grip on your hand and began to lead you out of the ballroom. He took you through a small door just on the other side of the wall. You were both outside now, the cold winter wind biting your skin. You tensed up in the chill.

"Are you cold?" he asked with a puzzled look.

"Yes. Aren't you?"

"Honestly, I've never been bothered by the cold. But here, let me help you."

He dropped your hand and flicked his wrist. You suddenly felt a weight on your shoulders, followed by a warm sensation. You looked around and noticed that a cloak appeared out of nowhere and was wrapped around your body. Your jaw dropped in disbelief as you looked over at him.

"How did you do that?"

Loki smiled. "Just some light magic. Do you feel better?"

You nodded. Your stomach was filled with butterflies. How was this happening? Just a few minutes ago, you were facing the reality that there was no magic, no princes, no dreams coming true. Was this in fact a dream? Had you fallen asleep against that pillar?

Another cold breeze snapped you into reality. This wasn't a dream; this was really happening.

"Are you from Asgard?" he asked.

"No," you answered. "Vanaheim. My father is a consult to the throne. This is my first year at this ball."

"Ah. Well, it doesn't get any better. I can assure you that," Loki said, making you laugh.

He guided you to a golden bench in the middle of the gardens. It sat amidst all of the bushes and flowers that went without blooms in the winter. It also overlooked the windows of the ballroom, allowing you to peek in and see everyone still talking and drinking. It was the perfect place to escape the party.

You sat next to Loki as he began light conversation. You talked about basic things, but then you slowly realized how similar the both of you were. You shared a love of literature, of nature, of horses, of magic—though Loki practiced it while you were just fascinated by it. He showed you a few tricks, such as conjuring a butterfly or making the few falling snowflakes pause mid-air.

The conversation grew deeper and deeper. He confessed his feelings of self-doubt and disappointment from living in the shadow of his glorious older brother. You confessed your feelings of loneliness and longing from being an only child with two busy parents. You found solace in this conversation, finally knowing that there was someone out there who felt just as dissatisfied as you did. It was like you found your missing puzzle piece.

Loki was just absolutely charming. He made you feel wonderstruck; you were completely enthralled by him. From his quick quips to his heartfelt words, you hung on every sentence he spoke like it was the most beautiful thing you ever heard. You wanted nothing more to than just sit here forever listening to him talk while looking into his gorgeous blue eyes.

You lost track of time. You had no idea how long the ball lasted, but you honestly did not care. All you wanted was for this night to last forever. You did not want to stop talking to Loki.

"Hey, I think they're playing the waltz," Loki said mid-conversation. You both turned to look inside and noticed couples joining together. Soft music began to play. You smiled when you spotted your parents in the back, holding each other and spinning around.

Movement in your peripheral caught your attention. You looked up and saw Loki standing with his hand extended.

"May I have this dance?" he asked with a cheeky grin.

You laughed and took his hand. Before you even had a chance to stand, he pulled you out of your seat and into his arms. You gasped as you fell into him.

"Heavens, Loki!" you said through laughter.

"Oh, loosen up," he replied.

You got in position and began to dance together. The faint sound of the orchestra carried through the bitter cold wind. But you didn't mind.

Loki's blue eyes were once again locked with yours. Your heart was beating out of control. He was so charming, so beautiful, so perfect. No one ever listened to you like he did tonight. No one ever talked to you like he did tonight. He made you feel wanted, seen, and absolutely adored. It was hard to believe that you didn't even know him six hours ago. Now, your thoughts would be consumed by him for days to come.

It was a chance meeting, but it completely changed your life. This was the ball you dreamed of. You were so glad you finally found it.

The dance came to an end. The music was replaced by the sound of applause and the Allfather making an announcement. But the two of you didn't care. You stayed in his arms, gazing up at him. He was smiling down at you.

"It was so wonderful to meet you," he said softly.

"You too. Thank you for turning my night around."

"Of course. You made mine a million times better."

You smiled as he began to lean in. Your eyes fluttered shut as you began to feel his breath against your lips. You leaned in to finish the kiss, but were stopped by someone calling your name.

"There you are!" your father yelled as you stepped back from Loki's embrace.

"We've been looking for you!" your mother said. "The ball is over. We must be going home."

"Oh, well—," you began.

"No. Say goodbye before we miss our carriage back to the Bifrost."

You sighed and turned back to Loki. "Thank you, again."

"Surely. I hope to see you again soon."

He gave you a soft smile as your mother grabbed your wrist and quite literally dragged you away. You stumbled with her quick pace until you caught up, yanking your wrist back. You looked behind you one last time as the palace grew distant, trying to see if you could spot the beautiful prince. But unfortunately, you were too far away. Your heart sank as you sighed, following your parents into your carriage.

“Who was that? Was that one of the princes?” your father asked as the carriage began to drive away.

You nodded, “He and I were both bored, so we decided to go outside and talk.”

“Bored?” your mother said with a laugh. “Isn’t this the ball you’ve been looking forward to since you were a little girl?”

“I guess the actual event just wasn’t for me,” you shrugged.

Eventually, you reached the Bifrost and took your journey back to Vanaheim. When you got into bed that night, the memories replayed in your mind. Your heart warmed but longed for the prince that whisked you away so elegantly. He was handsome, charming, intelligent…. just simply enchanting. You fell asleep with the hope that you would actually see him again.

Over the next few months, Loki never left your mind. Though it was one small interaction, it left a lasting impression on you forever. You were completely enamored by him. His voice, his striking blue eyes haunted you in your sleep. So many nights did you fall asleep praying that he still felt the same way, that he wasn’t in love with anyone but you.

The spring came and went on Vanaheim. Since the realm was known for its exquisite nature, the outdoors were absolutely gorgeous. The trees were in full bloom; the hills were adorned with bright flowers and green grass; the lakes sparkled in the afternoon sun. You spent so much time sitting in the garden of your family’s cottage, just reading and daydreaming about the Asgardian boy that stole your heart. Everything was about him; you even read his name as the male protagonist in all of your romance books, picturing that those were your story that got the happy ending.

Your father went to Asgard again at the beginning of summer for a few days to deal with some business. You begged and begged for him to take you, but he repeatedly refused. It broke your heart to know that you were so close yet so far from seeing Loki again. You did not want to wait for the winter to finally have another dance with him.

When your father returned, he had a bright smile on his face. He sat you and your mother down at the kitchen table for a big announcement.

“Family,” he began, “we are moving to Asgard.”

Your mother’s face dropped as you gasped, a smile forcing its way onto your lips. Did he actually just say that?

“What do you mean, dear?” your mother asked him.

“Old Vidar has finally decided to retire as the live-in ambassador from Vanaheim. They have elected me as the replacement. In two weeks, we will start our lives in Asgard.”

You cheered and ran to give your father a big hug. He laughed and hugged you back, albeit a little confused by your reaction. You immediately ran to your room as you started to pack while your mother pried him for more information.

Two weeks later, you were loading up the carriage to travel to the Vanir palace to access the Bifrost. You were more than excited; you could not wait to finally see your prince again. As happy as you were, there was some sense of doubt still stuck in you—What if he didn’t feel the same way? What if he had moved on? It had been nearly seven months since you last saw Loki. A lot can change in that time.

But you chose to remain hopeful as you began your journey to Asgard. You felt the warm sensation of the Bifrost and suddenly, you were back in the golden room of Heimdall. A carriage was already waiting on the rainbow bridge to drive your family to the palace, where a feast was to be held to honor both the outgoing ambassador and your father.

Once you had your luggage arranged in the carriage, you began the drive to the castle. It felt like the drive was taking ages. Your knee bounced with excitement. Your mother placed her hand on it, and you turned to look at her. “Sorry,” you muttered under your breath.

Finally, you arrived. Your heart was in your throat as you spotted the royal family on the golden steps of the palace. They came closer into view as your carriage approached the castle. Then, you saw him.

His raven hair was slightly longer, he was a little bit taller, and he stood with more confidence. Finally, his striking blue eyes locked with yours again. You saw right through him again—all the happiness and pain that he’s experienced. But you couldn’t quite get a read on how he was feeling. Did he move on? Was he still as infatuated with you as you are with him?

Your head hurt with anxiety. You prayed that he still thought about you as much as you thought about him.

The carriage slowed down and pulled alongside the steps. Your father stepped out first, offering his hand to help your mother out and then you. The three of you stood in front of the royal family. You nearly quivered underneath their intimidating stare.

“Welcome, Henrik and family. We are thrilled that you will be joining us in Asgard as diplomatic figures from Vanaheim. We look forward to working with you,” Odin declared.

The three of you bowed. Guards escorted you up the stairs as you began to follow the family inside the palace. You looked at Loki with a smile, but he remained stoic, turning around and following inside. Your heart shattered in your chest. Holding back tears, you looked down and kept walking.

Something grabbed your arm and pulled you back. You gasped as you fell right into a familiar pair of arms. You looked up, meeting the blue eyes you longed to see after nearly seven months.

“Loki,” you whispered, a small smile growing on your face.

“Did you think that I’ve forgotten about you?” he said with a playful grin. “How could I forget the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen?”

A heated blush rose to your cheeks as you giggled, shocked by his forwardness. You wrapped your arms around him and pulled him close, enjoying the feeling of being in his arms again.

“I was so scared that you had moved on,” you confessed. Your face vibrated against his chest as he let out a deep chuckle.

“I couldn’t possibly have moved on. Your name was the only one in my mind ever since that night.”

You pulled back, looking at him with disbelief. “Really?”

He laughed and nodded. “Really. I could not get your face out of my head. It drove me quite mad, honestly.”

You laughed, mostly still in disbelief. This couldn’t be real. How could this beautiful, charming prince—one that definitely could have any maiden he desired—be so infatuated with you?

“My parents will probably be taking yours on a tour of the palace before dinner, so that gives us about an hour to do whatever we want,” Loki said with a smile.

“A tour? Shouldn’t we join them?”

He shook his head dismissively. “I’ll give you a tour some other time. Why don’t we catch up first?”

You nodded with a big smile. He went to remove his hands from your waist, but you stopped him, placing your hands on top of his.

“Wait,” you said, moving your hands to cup his face. “I want to try something first.”

Loki grinned, then he leaned in and closed the gap between you. Finally, you felt your lips on his, and it was magical. You draped your arms around his neck as he deepens the kiss, moving his lips against yours. After a few moments, he pulled away, leaving you absolutely breathless. He smiled at your flushed face, then released his grip on you and grabbed your hand.

“Follow me, I want to show you the courtyard.”

With a smile, you let him lead you away from the steps. He talked to you, but you were still in a daze. You couldn’t believe that you got so lucky; you felt absolutely enchanted to meet him.

[mirisss]

Chapter 9

Stray Kids OT8 x hybrid! afab! reader

Warnings: anxiety, mentionings of a breeding facility, verbal and physical child abuse, neglect, spiked collars, blood, injuries, scars, suicidal thoughts, being apathetic, panic attacks, low self-esteem, I think that's everything,

This chapter involves flashbacks into (Y/n)’s past, so it’s a lot of angst but there are also fluffy moments in the chapter. 

Wordcount ≈ 3.2k

Thank you guys for your patience! I hope you like this chapter! 

Please reblog! 

Taglist: @ayoo-bangtan, @lose-lose07, @kingcarrot-thecarrotking, @starjane312, @reighlee-greaves, @hi-39024, @queenmea604, @septicrebel, @justayoungandwisefangirl, @imasimplol, @k-p0p-4ever, @detectivedoodle, @hehe-24-hehe, @jinnie-ret, let me know if you wanna be added!

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 10,

“He’s here, come on, (Y/n), we can go home and watch a movie and maybe draw some more,” “That -” YAWN “- sounds nice” “Haha, tired I see,” And so we got in the car, I barely sat down before my eyes were closing. The last thing I remember is hearing a low humming from Hyunjin as I rested my head against his shoulder before I fell into a deep sleep. 

Hyunjin’s POV

As soon as we sat down in the car, (Y/n) fell asleep with her head resting against my shoulder. I managed to move around to buckle her seatbelt without waking her. I leaned my head against hers as I lowly hummed an unfamiliar tune. Every now and then, (Y/n)’s body would twitch a little, not enough to wake her but enough to keep her from being comfortable. I recognized the twitching, Jisung does it sometimes too. I have done it a couple of times. 

Anxiety. 

Her anxiety is making her twitch, shiver, flinch even. That explains why she’s tired all the time, the anxiety twitches are keeping her from resting properly. I wish we knew more about what she has been through so that we can help her. 

Her ears twitch every once in a while too, though after doing some research on bunny hybrids, that was a normal trait for them. Her breathing was slightly too quick to be relaxed, but the way she nestled into my shoulder made my heart race. She was so cute. I loved her just as I loved the other members. She might not have been with us for that long, but it didn’t matter. Now that she’s in our lives, everything feels complete. 

I looked up and out of the car window, seeing that we were only about two minutes away from our apartment. “(Y/n), sweetie, bunny, wake up, we’re home,” 

(Y/n)’s POV

“(Y/n), sweetie, bunny, wake up, we’re home,” Home. That is such a nice word. I slowly came back to consciousness as I heard Hyunjin’s sweet voice calling my name. As I opened my eyes, I noticed that I was resting against Jinnie’s shoulder. As I understood what I was doing, old habits took over me and I jerked myself away from him. “Sorry,” “It’s alright, bunny. I don’t mind. It was cozy. Now, come on, let’s go home,” “Home,” Before I could stop myself I repeated the word home, Hyunjin looked down at me, his eyes looked glassy, almost as if they were filled with tears. “Yes, home.” 

The car came to a stop and we got out of the car. Hyunjin stretched out his hand and smiled at me, his eyes darting almost nervously between his hand and my eyes. I carefully took his hand, afraid that this was all a dream and if I moved too quickly, it would disappear. We went into the building, the elevator was empty for the first time since I came here. Elevators usually spike my anxiety. Reminding me of my past. 

Flashback

When I was nine years old I was still with my first owner. The breeders who had my parents. They weren’t exactly mean, but neither were they nice. They only cared about the hybrids they had of the highest quality. I was not one of those. They fed me enough to keep me healthy, but they gave me no love. They never spoke with me, they never pet me, they barely even looked at me. 

I hadn’t seen my parents or siblings since I was three. I felt isolated and lonely. The only friend I had was a desert fox who lived in the cage beside mine. He was also an outcast like me. The breeders said his personality wasn’t good, it didn’t fit his species. I didn’t understand what they meant, he was the nicest person I knew, before I got to know SKZ that is. 

One day, one of the breeders came up to me with a scary man. The unfamiliar man stared at me with a weird, creepy look in his eyes. I backed away as far as I could in my cage. My whole body shivering, my instincts screamed at me to run but I was stuck. I couldn’t escape. “I believe this one fits everything you wanted. Quite, small, obedient, ugly.” The breeder and the man laughed loudly, the creepy man agreed, saying he’ll take me. I began crying. Begging the breeder to let me stay. The fox boy in the cage beside me raised his voice trying to stop them from taking me. 

“No! Don’t take her, take me. Please, I’ll do anything, just don’t take her. Please, please, let her stay. NOO!” “Please, I want to stay. Please, I don’t want to go, please, help,” “(Y/n)!” That was the last time I saw him. He screamed my name as they dragged me out of the room filled with cages of neglected hybrids. 

The creepy man dragged me out of the breeding facility with a spiked collar. The spikes dug into my neck, causing permanent damage to my skin. Silent tears ran down my cheeks as no sound would leave my throat. It was my first car ride, and I didn’t want to ever get in another car, at least not with this man. I was nine years old, and he hit me, laughed at me, called me names, and told me how he would cut me and torture me for his own pleasure. 

When we arrived at wherever he was taking me, he once again dragged me along with the spiked collar. There was a tall building in front of us, and we were walking straight toward it. I tried calling for help as I saw many people around us, some of them looked but after seeing the man who was dragging me they all looked away, others didn’t look at all. 

When we came inside the building, we went into a strange small room, a loud *ding* could be heard as the doors opened. The tiny room was packed with people. I didn’t want to go, but the man pulled me inside, the spikes had now penetrated my skin completely, and drops of blood ran down my neck. “Nice toy you got there boss,” A few people said the same thing, as they all stared at me. Their voices harsh on my sensitive ears as they all laughed loudly. 

“Yes, we all will be able to enjoy this one. I made sure to buy a young one, so it will last long,” They spoke about me as if I were an object and not a living being. “Mm, so many fun things to do with such an ugly toy. I know it’s young but I hope it becomes prettier in the future,” My heart hurt from hearing what they said. It was true. I wasn’t pretty, that’s why the breeders didn’t keep me. It was why I didn’t deserve love. 

During the five years, that I lived with that man and his friends, the elevator was a common place for verbal and later on, physical abuse. Whenever someone saw me walking around the building, they would drag me into the elevator, hitting me, kicking me, spitting on me, pulling my ears, my hair, or my tail. They would curse at me, scream at me, and tell me why I didn’t deserve to live. After five years, they kicked me out after I became numb to their advances. 

I stopped speaking. I stopped crying, I stopped eating, I didn’t react to anything anymore, no matter what they did, I never reacted. I felt nothing but emptiness. I wanted nothing more than to die. If this was all my life was worth, I didn’t want to continue. When I stopped reacting, I stopped being fun for them so they kicked me out. Hoping I would die on the streets, all alone. Alone. That was all I knew how to be. 

Elevators always remind me of the scars around my neck, the scars that littered my body from the abuse it suffered all those years, and most importantly, elevators remind me of how ugly and worthless I am in the eyes of many. 

End of flashback

As I was pulled into a flashback, my breathing picked up, I couldn’t breathe, my eyes couldn’t seem to focus on anything, my knees felt weak, I found my own eyes in the mirror, it felt as if I looked into the eyes of my terrified nine-year-old self. 

“(Y/n)! (Y/n), bunny, hold on, it’s okay, just breathe, hey, I’m here,” Hyunjin’s voice seemed far away as if he was in another room. I felt his gentle touch on my arms, I knew it was him, I knew I was safe, but my body didn’t understand. The doors to the elevator flew open with a *ding*, I used my full strength and pushed myself out of the elevator, landing on the floor outside. My arm hurt from landing on it awkwardly, but all I focused on was getting as far away from the elevator as possible.  

“(Y/n), please breathe, please,” My eyes slowly stopped darting around, they focused on Hyunjin’s eyes which were filled with tears as he looked down at me. Worry was written all over his handsome face. I didn’t want him to cry, especially not because of me. 

Third Person POV

(Y/n) looked up at Hyunjin as he leaned over her. The hybrid was lying on the floor, shaking, struggling to breathe, teardrops running down her cheeks. The dancer leaned over the scared hybrid, trying to calm her down, his own eyes and cheeks stained with tears, his heart hurt from seeing (Y/n) like this. 

One of (Y/n)’s arms reached up and gently caressed Hyunjin’s cheek. Her hand was cold against his warm cheek. She still trembled as she tried to catch her breath. Before she knew what she was doing, she leaned her head up, her hand gently guiding Hyunjin’s head down. Their lips barely met, the kiss so gentle it almost didn’t happen, but it did. Hyunjin’s heart raced a thousand times quicker as he realized what they were doing. He was kissing (Y/n). (Y/n) was kissing him. 

Hyunjin broke away from the kiss, a surprised look on his face as he looked down at the bunny. (Y/n) too looked surprised. She hadn’t realized what she had done, it seemed to be pure instinct. “I’m sorry,” (Y/n) whispered as she looked away, her hand falling from his cheek. “It’s okay. I liked it. Um, how about we get off the floor and go inside the apartment, to talk about what happened,” (Y/n) nodded in response, too embarrassed to speak. 

They went inside the apartment, first going into separate rooms to change clothes. (Y/n) got dressed in the fuzzy pajamas that Jeongin reminded her they had bought, it was warm and cozy. It smelled of Jeongin and Felix. (Y/n) inhaled their scents, it calmed her down. She still felt embarrassed over kissing Hyunjin, she had never done something like that before. Her first kiss. Her first kiss. 

Hyunjin was changing into some comfortable clothes too. His mind completely focused on what happened only minutes prior. (Y/n)’s soft lips against his own. Her cute eyes opened wide as she realized what she had done. Her small hand against his cheek. The way she pulled him in. It was intoxicating. He wanted more, but he had to hold himself back. (Y/n) probably didn’t mean to kiss him, she wasn’t ready, he thought. Especially after what happened in the elevator. 

Hyunjin walked into the living room and found (Y/n) sitting on the couch. One of her legs bounced anxiously on the floor. “Hey, do you want some water or tea, or maybe some hot chocolate?” “Water please,” “Alright, I’ll be right back with it,” (Y/n) was nervous, and anxious, thinking that she had truly ruined this now. She kissed Hyunjin without his permission, he was probably going to call the others and tell them that she couldn’t stay. That was what (Y/n) thought. 

“Here you go, bunny,” (Y/n) carefully took the cold water bottle from his hand, opened it, and took a sip. The cold water calmed her burning throat from the panic attack she had just a few minutes ago. “Would you be okay with telling me what happened in the elevator?” “It sparked some old memories,” “Could you tell me more about these memories? You don’t have to but I want to be able to help you, we all do, if you don’t feel ready to talk about it now, that’s okay, but please don’t be afraid to open up about what you’ve been through,” 

He spoke with so much sincerity in his voice and so much love in his gaze as he looked into the hybrid’s eyes. (Y/n) took a deep breath before she told him of the flashback she had. New tears clouded her eyes, Hyunjin embraced her in a calming hug as she cried and told him of all the horrible things the man had put her through. 

“Oh bunny, I’m so sorry, no one should ever have to go through such things,” Hyunjin held (Y/n) tighter as he did his best to calm her down. They stayed like that for a good 20 minutes until the door opened. Minho, Felix, and Jeongin stepped inside. Once they came into the living room they found Hyunjin and (Y/n) curled up on the couch together. The hybrid was still slightly shaking from crying and going through all of those memories twice. 

“What happened?” Felix said as soon as he realized that (Y/n) had been crying. “It’s a long story and I don’t think (Y/n) has it in her to tell it again or be present for it to be told,” Hyunjin answered, Minho noticed that the tall boy’s eyes were glossy, he too had been crying. “Alright, we’ll talk later. Now, do you want to watch a movie, eat something, sleep, or something else?” (Y/n) sniffled a little before she leaned away from Hyunjin’s warm embrace. “I’d like to take a bath if that is fine,” “Of course, come on, I’ll set it up for you,” Jeongin said as he gave her the wide smile she loved. 

Jeongin tried to cheer (Y/n) up by joking around and smiling. His presence did make her feel a bit better. Once again, he reminded her of that fox from the breeding facility. Warm, safe, familiar. His eyes were kind, with so much love and adoration in them. His touch was warm and gentle. Jeongin was happiness to her. “Do you want some bath salts in the bath?” “What’s that?” “Oh, they’re like tiny crystals that make the bath smell nice,” “Do you like those?” Jeongin smiled even wider at the question. “Yeah, they’re nice, we have a couple of different scents, this one’s my favorite!” He held out a little bottle with blue crystals, opened the lid, and let (Y/n) take in the scent. The hybrid inhaled the scent, it instantly reminded her of Jeongin. 

“Do you like it?” “Yeah, it, um, it smells like you,” “I’ll put some in the bath then,” Jeongin poured a few of the crystals into the warm water filling the tub. “There we go! Your towel is here, the same spot as always, and you have your clothes here, and I think that’s all,”  Jeongin was about to walk over to the door and leave (Y/n) in the bathroom. “Wait,” (Y/n) took a hold of his hand. 

“Hmm, what’s wrong?” “Can you just stay with me for a little while longer, I don’t want to be alone just yet,” “Alright, I’ll stay with you as long as you want me to,” They sat down on the floor, (Y/n) still held onto his hand. Jeongin kept an eye on the water in the tub, making sure it didn’t fill too much. “Can you hug me?” “Of course,” Jeongin turned off the water before he opened his arms and (Y/n) scooted closer into his embrace. 

“(Y/n), remember what we talked about earlier?” “About all of us facing challenges in the past?” “Yeah, you don’t ever have to be ashamed of what you’ve been through, none of it was your fault. We won’t ever hurt you, nor will we let anyone hurt you,” (Y/n) held onto Jeongin just a little tighter. “Can I tell you something about what happened today?” “Of course, if you want to tell me, then I’ll gladly listen,” “I’m embarrassed and worried about it,” “It’s okay, whatever it is, it will be fine,” “I kissed Hyunjin,” Jeongin looked down at (Y/n), not believing his ears. 

“What?” His voice was shocked, yet his eyes still held nothing but love and adoration. Making (Y/n) feel a little less worried. “I kissed Hyunjin. I didn’t even notice, I didn’t know what I was doing, it just happened,” “Okay, do you regret it?” “Um, I don’t know. I liked it, I think. I’ve never done anything like it before. I’m just scared that he’s angry with me,” “I promise you, that he is not angry. I’m certain he’s over the moon with joy. We all love you, and kissing is a sign of love, so none of us would be angry with you for kissing us, we just want you to do it when you want to, we don’t want to pressure you into anything,” 

(Y/n) listened intently as Jeongin spoke, his voice brought the bunny comfort. Her eyes explored his face. From his warm eyes to his nose, to his sharp jawline, and stopping at his lips. Something within her, yearning to feel his lips against hers. Even though the kiss with Hyunjin had barely happened, she yearned for more. She yearned to feel love in its purest form. 

“Can I… Can you, kiss me?” Jeongin smiled widely, his eyes seemed to sparkle as he leaned a little closer. “Are you sure?” (Y/n)’s eyes once again darted between his eyes and his lips. She felt safe. She felt loved. “Yes, I’m sure,” Jeongin leaned even closer, his heart racing. He was nervous and excited. The bunny felt the same as she leaned a little closer. Their lips were only mere millimeters apart. (Y/n) closed her eyes, fully trusting Jeongin, just as she would with any of the eight boys she now called her home. Jeonging couldn’t help but smile as he too closed his eyes. 

~ To be continued ~

Thank you for reading! Please reblog!

[hollandorks]

haven

battinson! bruce wayne x f! reader

chapter nine

Summary: After the sudden deaths of your mother and grandmother, you’re forced to return home to Gotham…and to the man who broke your heart three years ago. Back in Bruce Wayne’s inescapable orbit, you vow to get to the bottom of your former best friend’s new cold personality. But Bruce’s secrets aren’t what you’re expecting. a

a/n: Nobody told me that chapter 8 was labeled chapter 7 again lmaooo (I fixed it). Anyways, thanks for reading and for the uptick in comments/ messages etc, I love it!!!! Slight NSFW themes at the very beginning of the chapter!

Series Masterlist

word count: 2.6k

He said something she didn’t catch on her way out. 

It sounded a lot like, “It’s always been my business to keep you safe.” 

But she knew those words weren’t true.

There was warmth against y/n’s back. She hummed and arched into the decidedly male body. There was a delicious hardness against her ass. A hand traced her hip and splayed against her bare stomach under her shirt. A mouth brushed against her neck, hot and wet and teasing. Everywhere he touched trailed fire. 

She pushed herself against him and gasped as the hand on her stomach dipped below her underwear. 

She rolled over, hands greedily reaching for the hardness that had been pressed against her, and Bruce’s eyes met hers. 

Y/n jerked awake. Her body was slick with sweat, her legs clenched tightly together to try and alleviate the ache between them. 

She rolled onto her stomach and groaned into her pillow. “Fuck.” 

It would be a lie to say she’d never had a sex dream starring Bruce Wayne. But it seemed like heartbreak had put a stop to it. Three years and her dreams about Bruce were usually more like nightmares, reliving the worst night of her life.  

Until now. 

She tried not to remember how it felt for him to look at her with desire, something that had never and would never happen in anything other than her dreams. 

“Stupid Bruce Wayne walking around shirtless,” she muttered into her pillow. She rolled back over and pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes. She could see the barest hint of daylight behind her dark curtains. Her heart still raced. She took several deep breaths to no avail. Her hands fisted in the sheets. 

With nothing else to do, she got up to take a shower. It was already six in the morning, and she knew she wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep. The dream was already haunting her, and closing her eyes again would only make it worse.  

And haunt her it did. All day, the ghost of Bruce Wayne’s warmth followed her. Thankfully, she didn’t see him or Alfred and have to pretend to be normal. She was afraid, if she looked Bruce in the eyes, he’d be able to see straight through her. 

But she couldn’t stop remembering the dream. Wishing it was real. Aching with want. 

She had known staying in Wayne Tower was a mistake. There were too many memories. There was too much of Bruce’s presence, even when he wasn’t around. 

The dream that was the final straw that pushed her into insanity. 

Ten o’clock that night, and she had practically paced a hole in the floor of her bedroom, hallway, and library. Since she’d already spent a week straight deep in a research hole for the article, she really didn’t have much else to do. She couldn’t focus on reading or watching anything and she wanted to wait to hear from Gordon about the pub before digging into anything else. 

Every time she turned a corner she preemptively jumped, half-expecting Bruce to be there and able to see her sex dream written on her face. 

She glanced at the time on her phone. She had made the mistake of taking a nap earlier in the day and was wired all over again. She knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep and she had absolutely nothing else to do. And she didn’t want to wait around for Bruce to appear from thin air, which would only make matters worse. Besides, what if he was shirtless again? 

If she didn’t get away from Wayne Tower, she really would lose it. 

She called Gordon. 

He answered with a sigh and, “I’m looking into it.” 

She couldn’t help but smile. She stared at the study windows but was too afraid to go near them. Mobsters probably had snipers in their employ. “That’s not why I’m calling, but thank you. Do we just not say hello anymore?” 

“Hello. What can I do for you?” His voice was teasing. Poor Gordon had gotten the brunt of her boredom the past week, especially when Martinez was working and couldn’t send her memes. 

“If I don’t get out of Wayne Tower in the next five minutes I’m probably going to jump out of a window, or go outside with a neon sign inviting the Gallo family to tea.” She said it in one rushed breath. 

“Cooped up too long, huh?” Gordon said, a noise like a car door shutting in the background. “Surprised it took you this long to lose it.” 

“Yeah yeah, you’re a riot. I’m serious though. I really am losing it. I don’t care if you take me to the fucking corner store and back, I can’t be here another second.” Desperation bled into her voice. The walls felt like they were closing in on her like they had all day. 

All because Bruce Wayne had forgotten his fucking shirt. 

“I just got off a double shift with Martinez. Let me see if our other friend is nearby, alright? I’ll call you right back.” 

“Thank you,” she said, relieved that he was willing to send someone to get her out of there. Even if it was a guy who dressed like a bat. She probably would have preferred Martinez’s easy company, but at least if she met with the vigilante she could sate her unending curiosity. 

Gordon was calling back in two minutes. Y/n already had her shoes on, camera around her neck, and her pepper spray in one hand. 

“He’ll be there in five minutes. Do not go outside before he gets there. He’s going to text you when he arrives.” 

“Text me? Wow, I must be special.” She felt giddy. A vigilante was about to text her and take her…she didn’t know. Out of Wayne Tower. That’s all that mattered. She wondered if he’d let her take photos of him for her article, then imagined her camera being chucked off the top of the tower with the bat signal. 

“Only because we need you alive. And before you even try it, he uses different burner phones.” Gordon paused, then added, “You sure you’re alright?” 

She almost laughed but bit her tongue. Because she had planned on looking up the phone number and seeing what she could find. How nice would it have been for the Batman to use his own personal cell phone? 

“I literally just told you I was about to jump out of a window or invite mobsters to tea. I’m not great.” She shrugged even though he couldn’t see it. “I…the tower is just too full of memories.” 

Gordon was silent for a long moment. “I get it. Just–don’t try to dig too much into who he is, okay? Respect that boundary. The city needs his anonymity.” 

She bit her lip because that was exactly what she had planned on doing. “Okay,” she finally said. 

“I mean it. I know the temptation for a reporter like you is going to be hard to resist, but he’s a good guy. There’s a reason I haven’t tried to find out who he is, even after three years.” Gordon was passionate about this, she realized. “Promise me.” 

The fire in her gut banked slightly. She felt the oily slickness of guilt in her stomach. Because now she was imagining the guy underneath the mask–the one so desperate to do good in Gotham. A guy willing to risk his life, night after night. Gordon’s words had suddenly humanized him. She swallowed hard. “I promise.” 

“Good. And don’t push his buttons too much.” 

She snorted. “Now you sound like a dad again. I can’t make any promises about that. Can’t just turn off this amazing personality.” 

Gordon chuckled. “Whatever you say. I’m going to bed. Don’t kill each other.” 

They hung up and her phone buzzed almost immediately.

A text from an unknown number. Outside. 

How do I know this isn’t a murderer? she sent back immediately. I’m not supposed to talk to strangers. 

She silently apologized to Gordon as she walked to the elevator. She just couldn’t help it. Something about a guy dressed up as a bat made her want to push his buttons. 

First alley to the left. 

She stuck her tongue out at the new text. Party pooper. It was no fun if she couldn’t get a rise out of him. 

After checking in with the security guy–Alfred had told her his name was Blake–y/n stepped outside and turned left. Blake seemed loath to let her go. She wondered if Alfred had threatened him. But she wasn’t a prisoner, even as much as she felt like it. 

The Batman materialized out of the shadows of the closest alley. She tried to hide her flinch. 

“You’re kind of a creep,” she said instead of hello. He stayed where he was and let her get closer to him. She could see him eyeballing her camera. 

“Where to?” 

“Wow, great service.” She ran a hand through her hair and glanced around. “Um. I don’t care. What were you going to do? Could I do, like, a ride along?” 

“A ride along?” he repeated skeptically. She thought that one of his eyebrows was probably raised, hidden behind the mask. “Don’t you need to…?” He seemed uncertain how to finish the question. 

“I told Gordon my options were to get out of Wayne Tower or I was going to jump out of a window. Or, if neither of those panned out, get a neon sign and stand out here inviting the Gallos to tea.” She shrugged and glanced around again. It wasn’t too late that the city had gone to sleep, but no one seemed to notice them in the darkness of the alley. She was jittery, nervous. She wondered if Bruce or Alfred knew she’d left. But she didn’t owe them an explanation. 

Batman frowned. “I was going to take a look at that pub. Maverick’s.” 

She perked up immediately. “A stakeout?” 

“That camera could help.” He nodded towards it. “But if there’s any hint of danger, I’m bringing you back immediately.” 

“I never thought I’d say this, but a stakeout sounds way better than what I had planned.” She was giddy. Gordon had given her the best gift without even knowing it. He’d given her a night out of Wayne Tower and a way to be involved in the investigation. 

Batman just grunted. “Come on,” he said in that low, low voice of his. She wondered if he was deepening it on purpose and had to bite down to keep the question from coming out. She made a promise to Gordon, after all. 

He led her further down the alley to…a motorcycle. 

“What if I refuse?” she asked, just to be difficult. 

“Then I guess I can walk you to the corner and back.” 

She sighed but had to press her lips together to keep from smiling. “Fine. Do you at least have an extra helmet?” 

“Here.” He held one out. 

She raised an eyebrow. “What about you?” 

He lightly knocked a fist against his mask, which was also basically a helmet. “Bulletproof. Probably safer.” 

Without waiting for her, he swung a leg over, the bike dipping under his weight, and turned a key in the ignition. It roared to life, the sound of it echoing down the alley and back. 

She slid the helmet over her head and gingerly got on behind him. 

“Alright?” he asked over his shoulder, his voice slightly muffled through the helmet. 

She nodded and accidentally thunked her head against his back. 

“Hang on,” he said, and that was all the warning she got. 

Her arms tightened around his waist, the armored pieces digging painfully into her. His cape was squished between them, providing a little bit of padding, but her thighs ground into the armor on his legs. 

He was like a cactus or something, she thought, then snorted to herself. Cold wind whipped through her clothes. She’d dressed warm on purpose but it was no match for the wind. 

The movement on the bike came naturally to her even though it had been years. 

Bruce had taught her how to ride and…when they were seventeen, they had ridden together, just like she was riding with Batman. They would sneak out, take the bike through Gotham’s streets or sometimes out into the suburbs. 

Tears pricked her eyes at the memory of Gotham at night speeding past them. She had felt alive, free. Bruce had laughed, so loudly she could hear it through the helmet. His skinny waist had been warm in her arms and she’d pressed herself as tightly to him as she’d dared. She had pretended to be scared just so she could cling to him. 

The tears fell and caught in the helmet padding. 

She couldn’t escape Bruce Wayne no matter what she did. 

When the bike slowed to a stop, she yanked the helmet off so she could breathe. She hastily wiped her eyes, but Batman noticed. 

“Are you alright?” he asked. Again something in the journalist part of her brain gave a quiet nudge at his voice, but she pushed it away. She had promised Gordon not to try to figure out his identity but it was hard to switch off that part of her. “Too fast?” 

She shook her head, then nodded. Better for him to think she was afraid than learn she was crying over a man she had never even dated. 

“I’m fine. Let’s go.”

Batman surprised her as he grabbed her waist and lifted one arm. 

“Hold on,” he said, his voice in her ear. There was an odd noise like a muffled gunshot and a distant clank from above.

She shouted as their feet lifted off of the ground. She left her stomach somewhere down by the motorcycle. 

Her feet touched solid ground seconds later. She stumbled away from the Batman and landed on her ass. They were on the roof of the building they’d just been standing under. 

“You fucking bat bastard,” she gasped. She was close to the edge, too close. Her gaze snagged on the motorcycle several stories below them, tucked into a hidden dead end of the alley. She groaned and put her head between her knees. “I thought we were going to switch to a car and have a normal stakeout. Fucker.” 

A low chuckle reached her ears. “Not a fan of heights?” 

“Or unexpectedly flying!” she snapped. She knew to keep her voice low, but it was hard. Her heart or maybe her stomach was trying to come out of her mouth. She swallowed thickly. If she barfed in front of Batman she was never going to forgive herself. Or him. 

“Sorry,” he said, but didn’t sound sorry at all. 

“I’m only forgiving you because you’re doing me a huge favor,” she muttered and got unsteadily to her feet. She stumbled and bounced right into his chest. 

“I won’t let you fall,” he murmured and the swoop of fear in her gut changed into something else entirely. 

She looked up at him. But he turned his face and stepped away. 

“Will you be able to take pictures?” he asked after a moment. “You’d have to be closer to the edge.” 

She pushed away the strange feeling he had unexpectedly created in her. 

“Yeah. I should be fine. Just–seriously, don’t let me fall.” 

A ghost of a smile then he was facing away from her again. 

Y/n cursed silently. She used every word she knew and made up a few. 

Because, for a moment, she had thought about kissing Batman. And her brain hadn’t immediately tossed the thought away because he wasn’t Bruce. 

For the first time, she wanted to kiss someone who wasn’t Bruce, and the thought didn’t make her ache.

Next Chapter

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[helpimstuckposting]

I’m a ghost and you are a shadow

Part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part six | part seven | part eight | part nine | part ten | part eleven

—

When the doorbell rang at 8am, Steve realized that he, Eddie, and Robin had been talking for four straight hours - laughing, shrieking, goofing around - and Linda Harrington had still not descended the staircase. He was kind of glad for it, still didn't know how to react despite the tears and hugs they shared yesterday. He wondered if she was deliberately giving them space to make him feel better, or if she was doing what he'd known his own mother to do and just staying away. He knew he'd see her again, had to face her the same way he faced everyone in the party, but he tucked that away in the 'For Later' box as well.

This time he was the one to open the door — Dustin and Lucas rushing through the archway. Will tossed him a hesitant smile, walking past more gently, and Mike stayed on the steps, taking Steve in with a scrunched up face still full of disbelief.

“So weird,” he muttered as he shoved past, following the other kids into the house.

Steve scoffed and rolled his eyes, glancing to the driveway to see if anyone else had arrived yet.

“Good morning to you, too, Mike,” he called after the teen, shutting the door and following them to the living room.

The hours he spent with Eddie and Robin in the dark dredges of early morning light had passed. As the first handful of the party took their places on the warn white couches in the living room, Steve glanced over at them. New mugs steaming with a fresh brew of coffee held tightly in their hands and Robin’s lips were pursed in a look she’d definitely stolen from Nancy. Steve shouldn’t be looking forward to the kids leaving, shouldn’t be looking forward to an empty house that he’d always dreamed would be full to the brim, but he was already wishing to go back into the dimly lit kitchen with Robin chasing Eddie around the counter.

A bit ashamed of his thoughts, and in need of distraction, Steve trudged back to the kitchen, pulling ingredients to make the group breakfast. He wasn’t sure if they’d eaten already, but knowing how teenage boys were, he was sure they wouldn’t mind more. Really, he just needed to stall. Stall the incoming talk about what they were going to do, how they were going to fix this, how they were going to send Steve back into the wasteland of his own Hawkins. He wanted to bask in the easy laughter of the early sunrise again, pretend that his two favorite people were there to stay, that they’d never left.

But Steve’s always learned quickly that happy moments were fleeting, that even happy memories could squeeze his chest and fill his lungs with a bitter sadness at the realization that he can’t go back. It’s just forward, always forward, into a dark abyss that sometimes contained more happy memories he’d never be able to go back to. Forward, forward, forward into the unknown, away from where it’s safe, away from where it’s warm and gentle and nice.

Steve put a pan of eggs on the stove, lighting the gas to scramble up a large plate. If it were just him, he’d add some other ingredients to the mix but Will didn’t like onions, Mike didn’t like tomatoes, Dustin wasn’t a fan of peppers, and Robin was lactose intolerant so he couldn’t put cheese in it. He knew she’d eat it anyway, but she shouldn’t, even though she never listened to him.

Instead, he left them alone to cook on low and started chopping the veggies to plate on the side. He could hear the group talking over each other in the living room, arguing about what to put on the TV while they waited for the rest to arrive, and Steve let their voices wash over the silence he’d hid himself in, flooding the room with a comfortable static.

The tap of a knuckle knocking against the countertop behind him broke through the hum of their voices. Steve turned to find Dustin awkwardly leaning against the kitchen island, arms crossed against his chest, watching Steve prepare a full breakfast that no one had asked for but Steve had felt compelled to make anyway. He glanced back toward the hallway, slightly bouncing in place like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to be there.

“Hey, kid,” Steve greeted, turning back to the eggs once the veggies were cut.

“Do you… do you need help?” Dustin asked. Steve didn’t really, but one look at the lost expression on Dustin’s face told him he shouldn’t say no.

“Yeah, could you start plating everything for me while I cook the bacon?” he asked lightly, putting the large pan of eggs next to the veggies so Dustin had easy access. The boy nodded silently, unwrapping his arms from around himself and heading straight for the cabinet that held the serving dishes. Steve tried not to think about the Dustin in his world who’d never been around long enough to know Steve’s house like his own.

They worked in tandem silence for a few minutes, Steve making sure to cook the bacon with at least three levels of done-ness, because Max liked her bacon cooked in the fires of Hell itself, but El preferred it less crunchy. He listened to Dustin shuffling around behind him, the clanking of ceramic on granite and scrape of utensils blended again into the din of conversation leaking in through the living room.

Steve was just about to scoop the last of the bacon out of the pan when he felt arms wrap tightly around his waist. The movement startled him, and he almost dropped the spatula into the grease-filled pan before he righted himself and set it down. He glanced under his arm to find Dustin clinging to him with his eyes shut firmly tight, the weight of his arms constricting like a snake squeezing the breath from his lungs. The tightness settled into his bones in the same way his conversations with Eddie and Robin had the day before, like he needed them, like spider veins of gold piecing all of his cracks back together.

“What’s up, kid?” he asked, voice barely a whisper.

“I know you’re a different Steve, but I’m still glad you’re here. I missed you. I didn’t say it yesterday,” Dustin whispered back, just as softly, like a noise too loud would break the moment and shatter the bubble they’d made for themselves. "I just... I just wanted to tell you, just in case..." he trailed off.

Steve’s eyes pricked with emotion once again, and he brought a hand up to scratch at the bridge of his nose. He didn’t need to cry again, it was ridiculous at that point, but he wasn't the only one who thought this was all a dream and that made something squeeze in his chest. It seemed like that would happen a lot while he was here.

“I missed you, too, Dusty-Buns.” Dustin huffed at the nickname, his warm breath seeping through the back of Steve’s shirt, but he didn’t give a retort.

Once he let go they bled back into silence, putting the last of the bacon onto a serving platter, and carried all the food out into the dining room. Mike, Will, and Lukas were arguing on the couch while Eddie and Robin whispered their own argument to each other off to the side. Eddie cut himself off when he met Steve’s curious eye, a thin smile drifting over his face that didn’t quite meet his eyes.

Before Steve could toss over a questioning look, Eddie turned away with a flourish to entertain the teenagers. He didn’t finish his conversation with Robin, but a glance to her didn’t give Steve any idea what they’d been talking about. She looked annoyed. With a roll of her eyes, she walked over to Steve and Dustin to help set food on the table.

They’d just placed the last dish down when a dull thud of a car door eased through the house. A few more followed, and then the door opened, the gentle voices of Jonathan and Nancy leaking through to the living room.

Max and El came barreling through the foyer, taking Steve by surprise as they wrapped their arms around him. He’d expected them to treat him the same as yesterday afternoon, the way the boys had when they’d entered the house earlier. The attention from them and from Dustin just a few minutes prior were gnawing their way under his skin.

“Careful, Mayfield, I’m gonna start thinking you’re glad to see me,” Steve said, the humor in his voice a desperate attempt to cut through the sentimentality like a knife.

“Yeah, yeah, don’t let it go to your head,” she mumbled, extracting herself from the hug and snatching a strip of bacon from the tray with her bare hands before even sitting down.

“I’m glad to see you,” El said, smiling up at him. She gave him one more squeeze tight before letting go, finding herself a spot at the table to load up a plate of food.

He shook himself from the stupor that held him since he wandered into the kitchen. He shouldn't be avoiding anyone while he had them, while they were right there in front of him. Steve clapped is hands to grab everyones attention, gesturing down to the food filled table.

"Breakfast is ready for whoever wants it!" he called, watching amusedly as the boys scrambled over themselves to find a dish before he even finished his sentence. As he watched over all the teens yelling and fighting over utensils, he couldn't help but notice the feeling bubbling around in his chest. It felt carbonated, like the bubbles could fiz up past his throat in a scream, or bubble up enough to carry him away, right off his feet. He'd been trying to dampen his emotions and drown them all out for so long that it took him a while to realize it was contentment, happiness.

Steve cleared his throat looking over the party, trying discreetly to cough all the bubbles out of his system like he could shake a soda until it was flat. This was dangerous, getting attached was dangerous, and right after breakfast they were all going to make plans to send Steve back, he couldn't be feeling happy right now because he'd just feel worse later — later when he has to march through whichever gate spat him out here, later when he has to look at everyones face as it closed forever and he never saw them again. It would be much worse later if he let himself bleed into these feelings and let them wash over him like he desperately wanted to. Instead, he fit a mask over his face he'd spent so long crafting and tried to let the conversations at the table wash over him instead.

He caught Eddie's eye for a moment, the man still seated on the couch, and looked away before he could read past the mask. The Steve Harrington of this world didn't seem to have one, maybe Eddie wouldn't be able to tell. There was a tap at his shoulder, and Robin stepped up beside him with a small plate of food.

"I know you didn't eat anything," she whispered, like it was a secret. She nudged the plate into his arm, urging him to take it. He was fizzing again, but only let it go so far as to bubble up into a soft smile, taking the plate and smothering the feeling with food.

They all sat and ate, Eddie wandering over once the kids seemed full. It didn't escape Steve that he was left with the scraps, whatever bits and pieces were scattered around the table. He wondered if that was a piece of Wayne, just like Steve couldn't hide the pieces of him he'd unwillingly stolen from his own parents. Sitting at the table, the morning bled easily into the afternoon, just as the pre-dawn light had bled unforgivingly into the chaos of the morning.

The kids were always bickering or chattering or throwing things around, it was easy to let it all fill the house and fill any stray thoughts Steve didn't want to take hold. That was, however, until Nancy cleared her throat and reminded everyone they were here for a reason.

The din was gone, the cacophony thoroughly stifled. Everyone in the room seemed to look at him, like he knew what was going on. Steve was never the plan guy, had always been the 'just stay here and watch the kids' guy, though he could never even do that.

"So, first we should check and see if any of the gates are open and then, if there aren't, see if any new ones have popped up," Dustin started, thankfully taking the attention away from Steve.

"I mean, obviously it would be one of the gates around here. It's probably either the gate near the pool, or the gate in the woods the demogorgon opened to get to Steve's house," Mike said, leaning back in his seat. He looked earnest, though his voice had a thorough overtone of 'duh' to it, as if any of this had a precedence.

"Well, okay, first, we don't even know if it's a previous gate to begin with! I just babbled a little about scars and like, what kind of metaphor even is that, really. We don't know if that's how the gates actually work!" Robin butted in. She looked a little panicked, like reality was setting in and she was getting nervous. Steve selfishly hoped she was nervous to lose him, like he was to lose her.

"It's a good theory," Nancy said firmly, daring Robin to contradict her. "Do we really know how this works? No, but we do know that Steve wandered in from the woods. Mike is probably right, and that means you are too. We should check the woods first."

They continued for a while, Dustin suggesting they check out the other gate locations around town just to make sure there aren't multiple open. Steve obviously couldn't join any team wandering around town, what with wearing a dead man's face and all. It looked like he wouldn't be on babysitting duty anymore, though obviously the only kid at this point was Erica, and she wasn't there. Steve wanted to keep it that way. The least amount of people they could tell before he left, the better. He hoped Hopper and Joyce wouldn't find out either. Not until after. He wasn't sure he'd be able to look them in the eye after what happened in his world.

They ended up agreeing on three groups. Jonathan, Will, and Mike would start at one end of the town; Dustin, Lucas, Nancy, and Max starting on the other. They would take compasses to see if it reacted to any of the previous gate locations, and meet somewhere in the middle. Steve, Robin, Eddie, and El would take the woods, since that was where they expected the gate to be and El would be able to check it in person. If no one found a gate, they would walkie and figure it out from there, El could try her void mind trick and surf the TV static or whatever it was that she did. If someone did find a gate... they would walkie and figure it out from there.

They still needed to know if it was safe, if it really was connected to Steve's world, if it was possible to pass through again or if it was even possible to close.

Steve let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. At least, it seemed, that it would take a while to fix the problem no matter what happened. Maybe he'd be able to stall more. Maybe he'd have more time. He hoped he would have more time.

—

Thank you thank you thank you to those still reading! I know we're kind of pattering out here, but I am still having so much fun writing this even though I've slowed down a bit lol I know how I want to end this now, which is exciting! I'm buzzing to get there

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[tsunami-of-tears]

A Court of Shadows and Sunshine — Part Nine

Azriel x Aurora (OC)

Summary: Cute mating bond fluff and chafing. Most filler chapter. 

A/N: SHE’S BACK!! Sorry for the hiatus - I’ve been struggling since the holidays. It’s been hard to get back into it, I lost my uncle recently so I think there will be some self-insert to come.

Wordcount: 900 

Warnings: Fluff, slight angst/pining, sexual themes

Part Eight

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧

Azriel

It’s just past dawn when Azriel slips back into bed, the dim morning sun illuminates the room in a hazy glow. Aurora stirs, reaching out for him. 

“Where’d you go?” she asks sleepily.

Azriel sinks into the warmth and wraps his arms and wings around Aurora - in both protection and comfort. “I had some business to attend to, I’m here now. I’m not going anywhere.”

Aurora gently grabs Azriel’s bandaged hand. “Who did you beat up?” she questions, turning her head to look into his eyes. 

“No one that didn’t deserve it,” Azriel answers, kissing Aurora tenderly on her forehead.

Aurora sighs, relaxing further into Azriel’s chest. “Are we training with the others today?”

“I planned to give you some time off, I don’t want you to push yourself.”

“I know, but it gives me something to focus on. It helps to channel everything more healthily.” 

Azriel rests his chin against the top of Aurora’s head and sighs deeply. He completely understands where she’s coming from, but in the same breath - his protective instincts were firing and he didn’t want to put her at risk. 

“How about we train together, just the two of us? That way, you won’t lose any progress and I won’t worry so much.”

“Okay, deal,” Aurora agrees.

———— 

The next few days were like a dream. 

No, they were better than anything Azriel could have dreamed up. He had his mate, and she was everything and more than he’d ever hoped for. 

Their days were split between exercising and lounging around together - either chatting or simply enjoying each other’s presence. 

Azriel taught Aurora new fighting techniques and after, she taught him new yoga poses. 

With all the training, Azriel was working one muscle harder than the rest - his self-control. 

Gods…

The way she moved, how she looked up at him with those big beautiful eyes and that innocent little smile. 

Azriel had never yearned for someone like this. 

Still, there was one thought that played over and over in his mind. ‘It could have been worse.’

Azriel guessed what Aurora meant by that, but he wasn’t sure Prythian would still exist if his worst fears were confirmed. 

Regardless of that glowing thread and the tug in his chest, Azriel would wait for Aurora to make the first move. He’d rather go without those touches forever than push her too far, away from him.

———— 

Aurora 

Ever since the mating bond snapped into place, Azriel had barely left your side. And, he’d never pushed for more intimacy than you were ready for. You truly didn’t understand how you got so lucky, but you thanked the Cauldron every day.

Helion, your uncle, was staying in Velaris to assist in your magic training, alongside Rhys and Amren. 

It was strange to spend time with Helion knowing the truth of your heritage, you wondered how you never noticed the resemblance. It seemed so obvious now. It was bittersweet - you were grateful to have him in your life again but it made you wish you’d had more time with both of your parents.

Once you understood how your powers worked and what they could do beyond creating light - it was much easier to start to harness them. It wasn’t long until you were breaking small wards created by your High Lord and his Second. 

As well as spell-cleaving, you discovered your magic made a great shield - one that could protect you from even the harsh blast of a Siphon. With your budding confidence and your growing grasp of your powers - everyone agreed it was time to rejoin Valkyrie training. 

———— 

Despite the cold wind rushing around you, you felt warm and at peace. You always did with Azriel. In his arms, you soar above Velaris, making your way to the House of Wind for training. Your first training session with the group since the bond snapped.

You hadn’t seen much of Cassian or Nesta in that time, and you were worried they’d been avoiding you since you revealed your powers. 

That worry faded quickly, as you’re met with big smiles from everyone. 

Cassian steps forward, moving closer to you and Azriel. “Good to see you, Rory. Let’s see if you’ve kept Az in shape.” Cassian smirks at you and playfully slaps Azriel on the chest. Azriel straightens his back and his wings flare slightly, making him appear even taller. 

You glance between the males, and you scrunch your nose, slightly confused. “What do you mean?” You question. “We’ve been training every day.” 

“Training eh, is that what you call it?” Cassian chuckles. 

Wings flare, and glowing beams of red and blue flash in front of you. The movement stops as Azriel pins Cassian to the ground on his back. Cassian raises his hands, conceding defeat. “I’m sorry Az, chafing much?” he laughs.

Azriel glares as he offers Cassian his hand, helping him to his feet.

From beside you, Nesta rolls her eyes and crosses her arms across her chest. “Illyrian brutes,” she mutters.

Cassian turns to address the group, “Okay, let's warm up and then Rory, you can show us what you’ve learnt in your special training.” One glance at Azriel’s face has Cassian backtracking and raising his palms again, “Oh no, Az, I meant the training with Helion. I promise I won’t joke again.” 

The remark makes Nesta scoff, and the pair begin bickering. You smile softly and look up at your mate. Love pours down the bond in both directions. It took a while, but you’ve finally found your family. Both of you have.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧

Tags ♡ @mis-lil-red

Part Ten

[thelostmagicians]

Delicate | Eddie Munson

Summary: Eddie Munson's reputation has never been worse, but you must like him for him. [2.8k]

Fluff, comfort, slight angst, sad boy Eddie

♡

This ain't for the best, my reputation's never been worse, so you must like me for me

Eddie’s always had a bad reputation, in high school he was known as The Freak, which soon morphed into Devil Worshipper, but the worst label he’s had so far had to be Murderer. It’s been almost a year since he’s been cleared for the murders of Vecna’s victims, but Hawkins has yet to move past it and believe in his innocence. 

His friends stay strong by his side and even Hopper has a soft spot for him now, but it still isn’t easy. He’s taunted and harassed relentlessly, everywhere he goes, fired from jobs, rejected by girls, and his once dream of going on tour with Corroded Coffin squashed when he lost their slot at the Hideout. Some days, he thinks about packing it all up and moving away, leaving behind his past and the trauma, but he wants to be strong. He wants to show people that their words can’t break him any more than the Upside Down already has. He’s made peace with the fact that his reputation will never change and that he’ll lead a despairing life in Hawkins, but at least he’ll do it with pride. 

-

The first time Eddie sees you, it’s storming outside. Wayne is getting ready to close the garage while he’s checking the register. He sees you running towards, your worn out purse doing nothing to cover you from the pouring rain. Your shoes squeak as Wayne ushers you in, gently pushing you to stand near the heaters.

“I’m so sorry, I know it’s closing, but I just moved here and my car keeps making this weird noise, and tomorrow is my first day of work and I don’t want anything to go wrong and…” you keep rambling, frustration seeping through your words.

“Take a breath darlin’, you’re okay,” Wayne reassures.

You nod, hands clutching your bag as you take deep breaths. Wayne’s gaze meets Eddie over your shoulder as he gestures at him to bring the office chair around. Eddie grimaces when the chair squeaks against the tile floor, hoping you won’t notice, but his wish goes ignored when you meet his eyes. 

One look into your eyes and he’s a goner, his heart fights to jump out of his chest, his hands clam up on the chair, and he forgets how to breathe. You shoot him a soft smile and he nearly topples over, legs having a mind of their own. He hurriedly drags the chair near you while Wayne gestures for you to sit. 

“What’d you say was wrong with your car?” Wayne’s voice breaks Eddie out of his trance and the smirk he gets tells him Wayne knows more than he lets on. 

“I’m not really sure, it just makes a chggg… chggg…” you trail off, cheeks heating up in embarrassment. 

Eddie chuckles under his breath, god you were so fucking cute. 

“What time does your work start tomorrow?”

“nine a.m.,” your eyes light up with hope at Wayne’s question. 

“We’ll have it done by eight, you can come pick it up then. Do you need a ride back here?”

“Oh no, It’s only a five minute walk away from my place. I’ll be okay, thanks.” You glance out the door, the storm barely visible now, you thank both of them profusely rushing out the door, squealing with giddiness when you think they can’t see you anymore. 

“That was awfully nice of you,” Eddie accuses. 

“Yeah it was… only for my favorite nephew though.”

 “I’m your only nephew,” Eddie huffs, “Still didn’t think you would volunteer to work late because I have a crush.” 

Wayne smirks at Eddie’s admittance, “I didn’t. Have fun working and don’t forget to double check the doors before you leave.” He shrugs on his leather jacket, bustling through the front door, leaving a very confused Eddie in the lobby. 

_

Eddie stays up until three in the morning, fixing everything wrong with your car. He goes home sluggish, but doesn’t forget to set an alarm for seven, so he won’t miss you when you come to pick up. 

He’s awakened by a loud pounding at his door, instead of the shrill of his alarm. He trips over clothes as he shuffles out of bed, grabbing his old hellfire t-shirt before swinging open the trailer door. 

Wayne’s frantic face appears before him, hands grabbing his shoulders and checking him over, while repeatedly asking if he was okay. Eddie runs his hands through his hair finally fully waking up at Wayne’s distraught voice, “Wha’s going on, somethin’ happen?”

Wayne’s eyes turn dark, “The shop… someone came over and…”

Eddie doesn’t let Wayne finish before he’s grabbing his jeans and shoes and running towards the building. He can spot the words from nearly a mile away, crimson paint making it unmissable. Murderer covers the entire side of the building, the dripping of the paint being a near perfect replication of blood, the windows are smeared with the same paint, handprints accompanying the paint strokes. The sight itself was gruesome and cruel, the situation wasn’t anything new to Eddie or even Wayne, but it was still distressing when it happened. It was the same viscous cycle over and over again, Eddie and Wayne reporting the incident to Hopper, who would then catch the perps, but release them just as fast because he had no power against the rich of Hawkins, and then Eddie and his friends would spend the next few days helping Wayne scrubbing down the shop. This has happened so many times that Eddie doesn’t even flinch anymore, but today was different, you’re coming in to pick up your car in under an hour and he doesn’t think he can get the shop cleaned up by then. A disgruntled sigh leaves his lips as he grabs the nearby mop and bucket to start scrubbing. 

-

Time passes by quickly, Eddie’s arms sore from tirelessly scouring, but he isn’t even a fourth of the way done. Just as he’s about to head in for a quick water break, he spots you flitting over in your pretty blouse and flouncy skirt. You reach his side before he can hide and he busies himself with wiping off the red paint on his jeans.  

“What happened here?” Your soft voice sets his heart aflame and he tries to think of any excuse to explain all this away, but his mushy brain forces him to tell you the truth.

“I-I don’t really have the best reputation in Hawkins and people are… um v-very keen on reminding me of that,” he stammers. 

You glance up at the wall, the r at the end of murderer being the only thing that’s almost gone. Wayne was able to spray down the windows with the hose, but some of the handprints remained stubborn, similar to the scars he’ll never heal from the night he saw Chrissy die. You frown looking at the mess and Eddie feels like he’s suffocating, your silence heavy in the air, filling his mind with intrusive thoughts of despair. 

“Your car’s ready by the way, it shouldn’ give you anymo’ trouble,” he whispers.

You nod and head inside, returning momentarily with jingling keys. “Wayne said you stayed back late to work on my car, thank you.”

He shrugs, “It’s no problem.”

He’s expecting another awkward silence, but you surprise him, “Do you need help? I mean I can’t help right now because I have work… but I can come back after and help you out.”

“You want to help me? Did you not see the murderer written across the walls?”

“I did. I just don’t believe you’re as good of a murderer as Hawkins thinks considering I’m still alive.”

Eddie laughs loudly, head thrown back, brown curls flying on his face. “I don’t know I did work on your car, so maybe I’m trying new methods, you know, straying away from the usual stabbing.”

You smile at him before getting in your car, you roll your windows down as you back out, yelling out, “I’ll be here at five!”

-

We can't make any promises, now can we, babe? But you can make me a drink

You stayed late that night, helping him until Wayne’s shop glittered clean, what would have taken him a few days to finish, only took him a few hours. It felt like everything was easy when you were next to him, your presence alone giving him a new outlook on life. He talked to you for hours and hours, words flowing out like quick sand, sharing every thought and experience and you were no different mouth moving a mile a minute, eager to learn about him, but also teach him about you. 

Although you exchanged numbers before parting ways, you hadn’t had the chance to give him a call, work and a new environment getting in the way. Eddie on the other hand found excuses to not call you in fear of what you might say. Maybe you only gave him your number to be nice, or you hadn’t called him yet because people’s opinions on him finally got to you, or maybe you just didn’t like him. He knew the excuses were a shield to protect his heart, but no matter how many times he tried he could never find the courage to dial your full number, always stopping before the last digit and hanging up. 

-

He’s genuinely surprised when you walk into the Hideout at 2 a.m. on a Thursday morning. You look rundown and tired, but your eyes light up when you see him, smiling so bright it blinds him momentarily. 

“H-hi.”

“Hey, Eddie. I didn’t know you worked here.” That was a lie. You knew he worked here once your co-worker let it slip that she avoided the Hideout because of Eddie. You started frequenting the bar almost every night hoping to catch a glimpse of him, until finally one of the other bartenders showed mercy and told you the time for his next shift.

“Yeah, I work the dead shifts, when people really aren’t around,” he looks down sadly, busying himself with dirty scotch glasses. 

You smile softly, hand reaching to squeeze his, “You’re not who people say you are, I hope you know that.”

His neck heats up, blush blossoming its way towards his cheeks, “you know I never thanked you properly for that night, helping me out with cleaning the shop.”

“How about you make me a drink and we’ll call it even.”

-

Sometimes I wonder; when you sleep, are you ever dreaming of me? Sometimes when I look into your eyes...I pretend you're mine, all the damn time

Nowadays, instead of nightmares keeping Eddie awake it's you. You're always in his dreams, keeping the bad memories at bay with your sweetness. Sometimes he dreams of the day you first met, but most nights he dreams of a future together. He isn’t brave enough to ask you out, but he can feel his heart get stronger and stronger the more time he spends with you, the usual taunts and threats being easily brushed off now instead of sticking to him like honey. He doesn’t know what a future with you looks like, but he hopes it’ll always feel like this, safe, happy, and serene. He dreams of holding your hand, whisking you away on dates, and charming you until your heart gives out and you finally shut him up with a kiss. Waking up from a dream about you is more painful than waking up from a nightmare, knowing that everything he dreams to have with you can only be achieved when he’s asleep.

_

You wake up everyday eager for nightfall so you can see Eddie in your dreams. It hasn’t been long since your first meeting, but you’re addicted to him, his laugh, hair, charm, wit, everything and anything about Eddie is your favorite thing in the world. You feel at peace just thinking about him and you’re eagerly counting down the minutes for when you can see him next. You dream about lying in bed with him, waking up late, cooking breakfast, doing laundry, all the chores you hate doing, but you want it all with him, even the boring-ness of life. You have to set your alarm an hour early now, otherwise you’ll keep snoozing it just to bask in your dreams longer and soak up as much Eddie as you can before facing the reality of him not being yours. 

-

Is it cool that I said all that? Is it chill that you're in my head? 'Cause I know that it's delicate  Is it cool that I said all that? Is it too soon to do this yet? 'Cause I know that it's delicate

You and Eddie hang out almost everyday now, whether it’s an early morning at the hideout or late nights in his trailer, you talk about anything and everything, conversation flowing easy and warm. He looks happier than he did the day you met him, almost boyish and young, eyes full with hope. You hope it stays that way. 

You feel different too, lighter on your feet, a smile permanently etched on your face, and love blossoming in your heart. You know you have feelings for Eddie, strong ones at that and you know he feels something for you too, but you see the hesitance in his eyes almost like he’s scared to believe you’re real. Every time you reach for his hand he pulls back, fearful his touch might burn you, he shuffles farther away from you when he sees a passerby hoping to save you from the ridicule that accompanies him. You’ve told him you don’t care what others think, but he thinks it’s too good to be true, which is why, today, you decide you’re going to sweep Eddie Munson off his feet. 

Your first stop is flowers. Eddie has never said anything about his favorite flower, but you think sunflowers are the most fitting for the boy who warms your heart. You stop by Benny's for his usual order before heading to his trailer, your palms sweat and your knees shake, walking the short distance from your car to his front door seems like a battle, your heart as heavy as the bags you're carrying in. You're nervous, sure, you're pretty confident that he likes you like that, but change is still nerve wrecking, even if it can be good. You knock fast and loud before you lose your courage, part of you hoping he doesn't open so you can go back to wallowing, but another part, a bigger part, of you is giddy with anticipation. 

He swings open the door, sweats hanging almost too low, and an old band t-shirt falling off his shoulder thanks to the stretched out collar. 

"Hey, sweetheart. What brings you here?"

The speech you had prepared vanishes, mind becoming blank as his stare looms over your face, you act before you speak, hands shoving the sunflowers roughly in his chest. "These are for you. I didn't know your favorite flower, but I thought you'd like sunflowers... 'cause, well... you're my sun, I guess." You shyly meet his gaze.

His eyes are tender, oozing love, but it's his tone that makes your heart plummet. "Sweetheart, this is nice 'n all, but we... you and I can never work. You don't wanna be with someone like me."

You sigh, dropping the Benny's takeout on the floor, you reach out and let your fingers brush back his curls, and then slowly trace down his forehead to his cheeks, then lips. He sighs softly, eyes closing as the ache in his heart is replaced with bliss, your fingers stop at his chin gently cradling it, encouraging him to meet your eyes. 

"Eddie, I don't care what people think.. or say.. or do. All I know is that I'm my best when I'm with you, you make me feel alive and safe. I like you for you. If I make you even half as happy as you make me, then..."

He chokes back a sob, bringing you chest to chest forcing you to share the same breath of air. "I'm my best when I'm with you too. You've changed my life for the better, you're my first thought in the morning and my last one at night."

You laugh through your tears bringing his face close to yours hoping you can finally taste the lips you've dreamed of, but he beats you to it, pressing his lips to yours, giving you a kiss as soft and tender as him. 

Eddie‘s delicate heart finally mending with your love.

[kli-kli]

Any song can be curtwen-coded if you're delusional enough BUT for me, the most saf-related song will always be Working for a Knife by Mitski, and listening to it again roday hit me with a lot of thoughts and feelings.  Because 'working for a knife' itself means working towards something that will destroy you. It shows the correlation between what you have to do and what leads to your inevitable end. 

So, like, pre-canon espionage? Fits. Curt's return to the profession? Fits. Owen as a DMA? Fits!

It also fits Tatiana and her past, although she is the one who manages to get away from it (all the best for our girl <3).

I cry at the start of every movie I guess 'cause I wish I was making things too But I'm working for the knife I used to think I would tell stories But nobody cared for the stories I had about No good guys

It's about Curt and Owen pre-canon, when the work ceased to be what brought them together and began to get in the way (along with other factors) of their future together, or any future for that matter. Maybe it's the moment when Owen gets fed up with spying and starts to consider all the ways his life could have turned out if he'd made a different decision in the past. It's when he sees all the 'what ifs...' that never got a chance to become reality. Or maybe those are the short moments when Curt—the one who loves what he does because it's his dream and because it's cool as fuck—begins to see that it made his alcohol problem a little bit bigger and his wellbeing worse—even if he'll never admit it out loud.

It's the final realisation of what their end will be. They'll die on a mission at some completely unexpected moment. They're working for the knife — for something that will get them killed one day, without giving them any chance for a normal life together.

Tatiana, whose life has been marked by violence since childhood, who is thrown into this environment against her will, with no control over it. Until she finally manages to regain this control, but even then she cannot be fully free and is forced to act on behalf of her blackmailer. 

I always knew the world moves on I just didn't know it would go without me I start the day high and it ends so low 'Cause I'm working for the knife I used to think I'd be done by twenty Now at twenty-nine, the road ahead appears the same Though maybe at thirty, I'll see a way to change That I'm living for the knife

Curt is returning to his profession after four years of grief and stagnation, but despite taking that step, he is still in the same place, dwelling on what he did, when the whole world moved on like nothing happened. But eventually he goes back to being a spy, something Owen would have wanted for him. His healing journey can begin, right? Even if he's returning to something that was slowly destroying him in the past — things will be different now, right??

Owen is so committed to his revenge that it's impossible for him to move on completely (no matter what he says in the finale, like be for real). And of course, he has his goal, and everything will be fine once he achives it. But for that to happen, he has to work for another organisation. They can present themselves as a better alternative to government organisations all they want, but we don't know how they really treated Owen. But what we are sure of is that, at the end of the day, he ended up dead.  So, in the end, it is always dying for the knife, no matter which one. 

I always thought the choice was mine And I was right, but I just chose wrong I start the day lying and end with the truth That I'm dying for the knife

So maybe going with Chimera's plan was the biggest mistake. Or maybe 'the knife' was just his relationship with Curt all along. Maybe in his mind that was the wrong choice that he made, that got him killed twice.

And Curt, during his grieving period, tried to pull himself together, get out of alcoholism, and move on. But that strong resolve to get back on his feet came every morning, only to disappear every evening, when he no longer had the strength to lie to himself that things would get better. And Curt post-canon, who gradually, more and more clearly, sees that he cannot destroy Chimera alone and that attempting to do so by himself was not the best choice.

Or maybe the worst choice was killing Owen on that staircase. 

[separatist-apologist]

Cowboy Like Me

Never thought I'd meet you here

Summary: When Nesta is stranded in rural Montana, she finds herself rescued by an unlikely pair.

Day 1 of @sjmromanceweek: Meet-Cute

Also, check out this art of Cowboy Cassian from @melphss

Read on AO3

Nesta was in hell. 

Who got married in Montana? Montana seemed like the sort of place you exiled people to die in lonely misery. She didn’t give a fuck about all the open sky, the clean air, or the nature that quite literally ambled up to her rental car looking for a snack. Nesta wasn’t built for this sort of life and maybe it said something about her that she couldn’t imagine anyone else who was.

She’d made a mistake, though. When she’d rented her airbnb, she’d just assumed it was an actual home, like the pictures had depicted, and not some ramshackle hovel with a literal hole in the ground for shitting.

For fifty dollars a night, she supposed she deserved that. Nesta thought that maybe she also deserved her twisted ankle. Heels on a gravel road had been an obvious mistake—was she supposed to go barefoot? She hadn’t brought anything else. Nesta emitted a soft scream of hatred for this new, cheerful place before propping herself up on the hood of her car to look at her swelling ankle.

All this for a wedding. The minute Nesta managed to get back into her car, she was going to book a flight home and block this friend forever. Why was she even trying to have friends outside of Gwyn and Emerie, besides? Nesta maneuvered her phone from her black skirt pocket only to find that of fucking course she didn’t have service.

She screamed again, irate with the whole endeavor.

“All right, ma’am?” a masculine voice called. Nesta whipped her head to the side of the long, gravel drive, intending to give that busybody man the middle finger for his trouble.

She hesitated. To start, the man in question was astride a large black horse. She had no quick comeback for a man who was pulling towards her shiny red sedan like he’d stepped straight out of eighteen forty six. 

He swung one of his long, powerful legs off the creature with ease, revealing himself to be at least six foot-five. Nesta had never considered herself a small woman, standing at five-nine without heels, but as he approached, his rough stubbled face hidden beneath the brim of his cowboy hat, Nesta felt positively dainty. 

He swept his hat off his head and Nesta wished he hadn’t. Holding it against the blue and green flannel of his shirt, he was like something out of a magazine ad for country living. Warm brown skin, hazel eyes, and dark brown hair that fell to his shoulders was a lethal combination on this man. His chiseled jaw, the stubble grazing his cheeks, and his rough features made Nesta think he had no trouble picking up women.

And that irked her, even as she swallowed with desire. He was absurdly stunning, the absolute dream of anyone hoping to marry a cowboy from a long-forgotten age. Those eyes of his, framed with ridiculously long lashes, swept over her, and then her surroundings.

“Tricked, huh?” he asked in a rich, deep drawl. “You wouldn’t be the first. Won’t be the last.”

“Someone should burn this place to the ground,” she hissed, one hand still gripping her hurt ankle. 

He chuckled. “I don’t think that would stop someone from tryin’ to sell it. You hurt?” he added, his eyes falling on her ankle. 

“I twisted my foot,” she admitted. He knelt, the sight emptying out all of Nesta’s thoughts. She could only stare at his thighs, bulging in his tight jeans. His hand was large enough to wrap fully around her ankle, and ever so slowly, he pulled her foot from her scuffed black heel.

“This is your problem,” he said, holding up her shoe with a frown. 

“Well I know that now,” Nesta hissed, “you must be a psychic.”

His eyes flashed. “Can you drive?”

“No,” she admitted, crossing her arms over her chest.

"I wouldn’t go around insultin’ the only person who can help…but that’s just me,” he replied. 

Nesta hesitated. “Are you a doctor?”

He snorted, rising to his feet again. His large, muscular body blocked the bright sun the way a tree might, and Nesta couldn’t pretend she wasn’t grateful.

“Cattle rancher,” he replied, “but I know a thing or two about tapin’ up a sprain. We’ll get you iced up and bandaged and on your way Miss…”

She sighed. “Nesta Archeron,” she half grumbled.

“Miss Archeron—”

“Nesta. Don’t be ridiculous.”

He smiled, setting her heart racing. “Miss Nesta, then. I’m Cassian, and I’m walkin’ towards you real slow because I don’t want to spook you.”

“Why would you—put me down right now!”

He shook his head. “And let you finish breakin’ what you started? No offense, darlin’, but carrying you is a lot safer than letting you hop on the horse—”

“Why can’t we drive?”

He looked down at her, his amusement plain. “And what would I do with Bryaxis?”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Nesta breathed, gripping Cassian’s neck until her nails dug into his skin. “I’ve never been on a horse.”

“He doesn’t bite,” Cassian replied. “I’ll be right behind you.”

She couldn’t help her squeal as he hoisted her up into the fine leather saddle. Nesta’s bare thighs touched the material, spreading her legs obscenely, though Cassian didn’t seen to notice or care. He merely swung himself up behind her. He put one hand on her hip, the warmth seeping through her silken skirt, before reaching for the reins.

“What were you doing out here, anyway?”

He nodded towards a saddle bag. “Needed a few things in town.

“And you took a horse?” she replied, trying to imagine where he’d even park it.

Cassian’s laugh rumbled through his chest. “Where are you from, Miss Nesta?”

“Chicago,” she replied, well aware she was proving every city slicker stereotype true. “Have you ever been?”

She felt him shrug. “Nope. I’ve been to cities before, but not so far south.

So far south. Nesta didn’t know how to respond to that. “You’re not missing much, honestly.”

“No? Is Chicago not home sweet home?”

It was Nesta’s turn to shrug. “It’s where I live.”

If he had thoughts about that, Cassian kept them to himself. That was just as well—Nesta didn’t want to fight some stranger when she was currently on his horse, unable to even run. He’d left her shoes on top of her car and her suitcase in the trunk. Nesta was literally at his mercy, given the small, two-lane road they were currently traveling down had no hint of civilization besides the two of them. 

She’d done such a shitty job picking an airbnb. 

“What are you doin’ up here, then?” he asked after a moment. His voice had the most pleasant gravel, deep and dark like a star-flecked sky. Nesta knew she was leaning against the broad plain of his chest and found she didn’t care. 

“My friend is getting married,” she said. “I guess her fiance grew up out here.”

“Oh yeah?” he replied, an obvious smile in his voice. “Married on a ranch?”

Nesta twisted in her saddle. “Don’t you dare—”

“Lots of people rent out my barn on the edge of the property. You can stay up with me, if you need a place. I’ll charge you a real fair price.”

She rolled her eyes. “What’s that?”

“You ever mucked out a stall, Miss Nesta?”

She poked him in the ribs, turning back to face the endless expanse of cloudless blue. “Is that your thing, then? Humbling the city girl by making her clean up shit?”

“Maybe I think you’d be real pretty with a little mud on your face.”

Nesta swallowed. “I don’t do mud,” she said, looking at her immaculate nails.

“What do you do, then?” Why did he sound so suggestive? Nesta’s hands were clammy–nervous. When had a man ever had that effect on her? 

“Law,” she told him. “Corporate law.”

He made some soft, noncommittal noise that was, honestly, a lot better than a lot of the finance men she dated. Cassian acknowledged he’d heard her without feeling the need to cut her down in service of his own ego. 

“I don’t know much about that,” he finally admitted. Nesta could have kissed him for it, though she wouldn’t. 

“It’s pretty boring,” she said, earning another of his soft noises.

“I don’t believe that for a minute,” he replied. “You don’t strike me as the type to spend your time sufferin’.”

“Well…I do get to humble really rich men with a fair amount of regularity,” she admitted with a smile. His grip on her waist tightened. 

“That’s what I thought,” he murmured, his breath fanning against the back of her neck. She shivered, unintentionally leaning further into him. She was acting like a cat in heat over a man she’d known for fifteen minutes.

“I’ll pay,” she breathed. Behind her, Cassian went stiff.

“Pay?”

“For a room,” she clarified, wondering what he was thinking. “If you were serious about your offer, I’d pay you for it.”

“Oh, darlin’, there’s no need for that. Just a little hel—”

“I told you I don’t do dirt,” she snapped. “You can have money or nothing at all.”

“I’m not takin’ your money,” Cassian drawled. “Just keep after yourself and don’t disturb the cats.”

Her heart stuttered. “Cats?”

“Yeah. My girl just had kittens and she’s real skittish, so if you see her, be real quiet and soft.”

Nesta could have died. “What's her name?”

She wanted a cat so badly. Her landlord expressly forbade any animals at all, and Nesta was too much of a rule follower to risk a secret cat. The thought of spending three days surrounded by a mama cat and her little kittens seemed like heaven.

“Cheddar,” Cassian admitted ruefully. “She’s orange. Dad must be black, though, because half her little beans are black, too.”

A soft squeak slipped from Nesta’s throat. “Do they have names?”

“Not yet. Maybe you’ll help me out with that,” he added with what sounded suspiciously like hope. 

She didn’t dare unpack that. Not as Cassian pulled off the road, steering his steady horse down another gravel path. Untouched grass stretched for miles in every direction until the sky met mountains in the distance. 

“Your friends will be down there,” Cassian told her, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. Accident, she swore, watching the point of his finger. “But we’ll be up here. I’ll walk you down for the wedding…keep you from wreckin’ that other pretty ankle of yours.”

“Does that work on the women around here? Your folksy charm, your aw shucks—”

Cassian laughed. “Are you askin’ if being nice gets me laid?”

“Does it?”

“My good looks get me laid, darlin’.  My folksy charm, as you so eloquently put it, is just called manners outside of the city. No need to pretend.”

“You’d be surprised,” she told him dryly. Cassian merely held her close, his eyes fixated on the two story ranch just in the distance. Nesta could have wept with relief. The saddle was rubbing against her inner thigh, chafing her delicate skin and the woodsy scent of smoke and pine coming off Cassian was threatening to throw all Nesta’s good sense out the window. 

His home sprawled against the Montana countryside. Built to look as if it was made of wood—and maybe it was, for all she knew—the house had to be worth a cool million in Nesta’s estimation. She didn’t dare look over her shoulder at him, though. Didn’t dare acknowledge she knew this man wasn’t the simple, rural cattle rancher he was trying to embody. 

And Nesta certainly didn’t let him see that she was weirdly relieved. She liked an ambitious man. And unlike all the men she’d been dating back home, Cassian wasn’t slick. Nesta would have put all the money she had on Cassian being the sort who had his heart on his sleeve for all to see. She had no business thinking about that.

This wasn’t a date.

Cassian swung off his horse and gently pulled her back into his arms.

“Don’t you go runnin’ off,” he warned Bryaxis.

“Will he?”

Cassian merely shrugged as he took her up a stone laid path towards his glass and wood front door.

“If he goes anywhere, it’ll be next door to his girlfriend.”

She couldn’t help the giggle that escaped her. “Your horse has a girlfriend?”

“He’s a good-looking horse. Why shouldn’t he have a girlfriend. I catch him all the time down by the fence nuzzlin’ her with his nose.”

“Like you, then?”

Cassian chuckled. “I am very single, Miss Nesta—”

“Just Nesta,” she interrupted, breathless as he brought her inside. “The Miss makes me feel like someone’s kindergarten teacher.”

“Fine, Nesta. I, unlike my horse, am very single.”

“Any particular reason?” she asked, wishing she sounded snide and not interested.

Cassian set her on a long, dark leather sofa, He swept his hat off his head as he knelt in front of her again. 

“You want to know why I’m single? Maybe I work too much,” he said softly, sliding her his hand up  and then back down her knee. “Maybe I’m a shitty kisser.”

“I’ll bet it’s the second,” she replied. Cassian’s hazel eyes met her own, a smirk curving over his sensual mouth.

“And you? Are you a shitty kisser?”

“Terribly deficient.”

“I figured,” he murmured, turning his gaze back to her swollen ankle. Cassian grabbed a red pillow from the corner of his couch to prop up her foot. “Why don’t you stay here and I’ll get us all set up, hm?”

“Okay.”

Cassian vanished long enough for Nesta to fire off several quiet texts and otherwise study his really nice home. The living room had a wall made of pointed windows, and though everything had that wood cabin aesthetic, it was cozy and cheerful and bright. She flipped through her work emails while she waited, dragging a knitted blanket off the back of the sofa over her lap. 

Was she insane for hanging out in a stranger's house? She would never have dared back home—her friends thought she was insane. And yet she was at the right place, and if Cassian wanted to hurt her, surely bandaging up her foot wasn’t necessary. She doubted his neighbors would have heard her scream if she stood outside and emptied her lungs of air.

Cassian returned nearly an hour later, balancing a glass of water and a plate in one massive hand, and her suitcase in the other.

“You got my things?” she asked him, surprised he’d bother. She’d assumed she’d have to hobble back out there for it.

“Of course, darlin’,” he replied, setting a nice sandwich and two ibuprofen down on the wood coffee table right in front of her. “Unless you plan on wearin’ that skirt the entire time? I don’t mind, but…”

Her cheeks flushed. “Thank you. That was really nice.”

He ducked his head. “Have somethin’ to eat before you take the medicine. You look like you haven’t had anything but coffee today. Pain killers won’t settle well on an empty stomach and while you’re cute, you’re not cute enough to clean up puke.”

Nesta was rendered speechless. That was for the best. Everytime he casually said something nice about her, Nesta was far too tempted to crawl into his lap and repay him for his generosity in a different sort of way. Instead, Nesta remained perfectly still while Cassian wrapped up her ankle with a beige colored bandage and pressed a bag of frozen green beans against the aching bone. 

“Keep this elevated,” he insisted, taking a spot close enough that Nesta could have scooted forward and put her head in his lap. She was far too tempted. 

“Want to watch something?” she suggested. “Or are you busy?”

“Not too busy for you,” he teased, reaching for the remote. “How do you feel about history?”

Their eyes met, and in unison, they said, “Ancient Aliens.”

Cassian smiled with satisfaction. “Fuck yeah.”

They wasted the afternoon that way. Nesta inched closer and closer until her head was propped up against his thigh. Cassian kept his arm casual against the back of the couch, unconcerned as they giggled their way through each new show. He didn’t stop until the sun dipped low, bathing the room in shadow.

“Want to help me make dinner?” he asked, his voice gruffer than before. She looked up at him.

“No eating out?”

His lips curved into a sly smile. “Are you asking to be eaten out?”

She smacked at his stomach, heart racing all the same. “You don’t seem like the cooking type. Isn’t that something for your little wife?”

“Are you offerin’?” he joked. “I accept. C’mon, lazy bones. At least come talk to me.”

“Does anything bother you?” Nesta asked, unconcerned when Cassian lifted her back into the air. She winced at the jolt of pain lancing through her ankle, though she couldn’t pretend she didn’t like the ease with which he carried her through his house. Cassian was careful, setting her atop a granite kitchen island so she could watch over his attempts at cooking.

“So tell me, Miss Nesta—”

“Just Nesta.”

“Nes,” he grinned. “Miss hot shot attorney. What do you think about my humble home?”

She looked around, pretending to survey with an arched eyebrow. “It’s a little rustic—”

Cassian’s fingers were between her ribs before she could stop him, tickling until she thrashed and gasped for a breath of air. 

“Stop it, stop—”

“Rustic,” he chuckled, pulling out a nice creuset pot and setting it atop the range. “You’ll have to work on your insults.”

“I think you just wanted an excuse to touch me,” Nesta replied. Cassian smiled.

“Maybe,” he conceded. “It’s not everyday a beautiful woman is waitin’ for me on the side of the road.”

“I wasn’t waiting. I was stuck.”

He shrugged. “Sure felt like you were waitin’ for me.”

“Maybe you were waiting on me.”

“Almost certainly,” Cassian agreed cheerfully. “Do you eat pasta?”

“I’ll eat anything,” Nesta agreed. Cassian nodded.

“You and me both, sweetheart.”

And God, but Nesta wanted to find out if that was true. Cassian had a box of recipes he’d inherited from his mother that he’d been more than happy to show her. While Nesta pulled the cards out one by one, Cassian made his own tomato sauce. She knew it shouldn’t have impressed her and still it did. 

He was nearly done when his cat, Cheddar, slunk into the room. Three black and orange kittens flopped just behind her, the third tumbling face first over the threshold from the hall to the tile. Nesta gasped.

“Oh my God,” she whispered.

“Where are the other four, mama?” Cassian asked his cat as she wound her way through his legs to rub against him. “What are those little demons up to?”

Nesta carefully hopped off the counter so she could scoop up one of the babies.

“Probably peeing in my boot,” Cassian grumbled, stirring his sauce with a wooden spoon. 

“Babies,” Nesta breathed, delighted when the three that had ambled in with their mother immediately bounded towards her. Her favorite, for no reason at all, was the one with the split black and orange face. She had the brightest blue eyes and when Nesta lifted her up to really look at her, the small creature meowed loudly. 

“Well now you’ve done it,” Cassian teased as Cheddar trotted over to see what the fuss was. “Be careful–mama cat has claws.”

Nesta scratched behind her ears. “Maybe for you.”

“I suppose like calls to like,” he grumbled. While he plated their food, Nesta played with the kittens until there was a snag in her skirt. Cassian offered Nesta a hand and when he pulled her up to her feet, balancing on one foot, he yanked just hard enough that she fell into his chest.

Into his lips. 

“Oh,” she whispered, unsure what to do. Cassian kept her steady with one arm, the kiss polite and chaste and just enough to make her want much, much more.

“Sorry,” he murmured, brushing a strand of her hair off her face. “Probably shouldn’t kiss the woman rentin’ one of my rooms, but…”

“It’s alright,” Nesta assured him, letting him lead her to the blocky table just outside the kitchen. It might have been awkward had Cassian not been so charming. So laid back and nice. He’d made her spaghetti and didn’t care when his cat spent the entirety of the meal winding her lithe, orange body through his feet and purring so loud Nesta felt like she was competing for his attention. 

Cassian kept the conversation going as if nothing had happened, but Nesta couldn’t get the feel of his mouth against hers out of her mind. He’d smelled crisp and clean and when her hands had pressed against his chest, he’d been all hard, toned muscle. 

“Why don’t I clean up down here, and you can get settled in your room?” Cassian suggested when Nesta had been silent a little too long. She was undressing him in her mind, and when she looked up at him, the little smile on his face made her wonder if he wasn’t aware. 

“Sure,” she agreed, if only to get out of helping with the dishes.

“I’ll carry you up,” he added, his eyes flashing. Nesta shook her head, her pride unable to stand being taken up and down the stairs.

“I can do it myself.

“Are you always this difficult?” he asked, rising to his feet. Cassian was a big man. Nesta had never felt small in comparison, had never once looked at a prospective lover and thought herself little. Cassian, though. Cassian exuded strength. In another life, he might have been a warrior prince worshiped by the masses. 

Nesta offered him a feline smile. “Maybe.” Back home, that refusal to yield would have earned her nothing good. With Cassian, though? A slow smile spread over his rugged face.

“Wouldn’t be any fun if you weren’t, I suppose. Go on then, Miss Nesta. Yell if you need me…I’ll come runnin’.”

Nesta suppressed a shiver at his sensual tone. “Is that a promise?”

He looked her up and down, his expression suddenly ravenous. If Nesta had less pride, she might have hopped over to him, pressed her hands to his chest, and let him finish what he’d started. 

“It is,” he said simply, those hazel eyes finding her face again. 

It was shree will that made her turn. As if she had something to prove. And Nesta made it all of four little hops before Cassian was coming behind her and sweeping her up off her feet. Nesta gasped, unprepared to be so close to him again.

“C’mon,” he murmured, holding her like she was something delicate.

Something fragile.

And no one thought that about her. Nesta swallowed hard, biting back the urge to snap at him. He didn’t know what she was like and maybe that was a blessing, because Nesta didn’t have to put on a show for him. She could press her head against his chest and sigh, “Thank you,” without needing to scowl, to stare him down so he knew not to ever try such a thing again.

“Tell me if I’m wrong,” he drawled softly, taking that first wooden step. “But I’ve got the feelin’ that back home, you’re somethin’ of a ball buster.”

Nesta tightened, her hackles raised. “Is that such a bad thing?”

“No, ma’am,” he chuckled. “It’s just…I’m thinkin’ that most of those men up there don’t know how to act right when it comes to you. And because they can’t make hide or hair of you, they treat you bad. Try and break you, make you small? So you’ve gotta be real tough, don’t you baby?”

Nesta swallowed. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said crisply, careful to enunciate every single syllable which she knew only proved his point. 

“That’s what I thought,” he said softly, taking her upstairs. Nesta didn’t want him to let her go. I was a strange thing, to be so seen. To be laid bare by this man she didn’t even know. 

“Don’t get mad at me for sayin’ this, but you remind me of Bryaxis—”

“Your horse?”

“He was mistreated too,” Cassian explained. “Screamed at, whipped…you name it, he endured it. But all he needed was a soft hand. A little patience. I figure you probably aren’t too different.”

“Where are you taking me?” 

Cassian had opened a bedroom door that absolutely belonged to him. The dark masculine reds and blacks of the bed were a dead giveaway, along with the half-full glass of water on a wood bedside table and a stack of books dog-eared haphazardly. A leather jacket was hung from a chair near the open closet door, and though it was dark, Nesta could see an adjoining bathroom at the far end of the room.

“Where, I think, you want to be tonight. Tell me if I’m wrong—I’ll put you somewhere else.”

“This is your room, Cassian.”

She could see he was trying not to smile. “Yes, ma’am.”

Tell him he’s stupid. Tell him he’s wrong. Demand he put you back in your own room and—

“Okay,” she whispered before she could talk herself out of it.

Relief all but crumpled over his features. He murmured something that sounded suspiciously like Thank the good lord, and set her atop his neatly made bedspread.

Nerves shocked through Nesta, rendering her silent for a moment. Cassian, for his part, seemed to have realized that he, too, had her in his bed and didn’t quite know what to make of that.

“I ah…why don’t I wash up the dishes and you can take a shower?”

“That sounds good, Cassian.”

It sounded better than good, and though Nesta swore she wasn’t going to say so, she called, “Unless you think I need help in the shower?”

Cassian froze. For all his bravado, it was obvious he’d never thought he’d get this far. Nesta crawled toward the end of his bed with exaggerated slowness, holding his stare. He took a slow breath, those eyes of his darkening to almost black.

“Is it safe for me alone in there?”

The knot in his throat bobbed. “I reckon it’s not, Miss Nesta—”

“Just Nesta,” she reminded him, rising up on her knees so she could touch the hard planes of his stomach. “Do you think you could call me that, Cassian?”

“I…” his voice trailed off when her fingers found his belt and tugged. 

“You know,” Nesta continued with far more bravado than she felt, “I don’t think I’ve properly thanked you for coming to my rescue today.”

“You..” he cleared his throat. “That’s not necessary. I—Nes—”

“That’s better,” she crooned, having undone the button of his jeans. A lump was forming—hard and thick and Nesta was desperate to see what the cowboy had hidden in those black pair of briefs. 

“Nes,” he tried again, his hands resting on her shoulder. He wasn’t stopping her, and given the way his fingers curled against her, she thought he was trying very, very hard to be a gentleman.

That wouldn’t do. 

“I’d be a poor guest if I didn’t thank you,” she said, slipping past the waistband of his underwear. Nesta gasped when she curled around him—or, tried to. As she pulled Cassian out, she realized she’d need to rethink her plan to thank him with her tongue. Cassian was enormous, both thick and long. Hardly a grower, given he was still stiffening in her curled hand.

Neither of them spoke for a moment, each waiting for the other to do something. Deciding he was erect enough, she pumped him. Her fingers just barely fit around his shaft, and even with two hands she couldn’t have fully covered him. Nesta certainly wasn’t going to be able to fit him all in her throat.

But god she wanted to try. 

He exhaled a breath when she stroked him again, earning a chuckle from Nesta. “Tell me how you like it,” she murmured, softening her grip. Nesta had to hope that the cowboy liked it rough, because she wanted him to fuck her within an inch of her life. 

“Nice and slow?” she tried, making a sweet pass over that large cock of his.

Cassian shook his head, his dark tresses, whispering against his broad shoulders. What was he like out of control? 

“What about this?” she tried, pumping him harder, squeezing tighter. He shook his head again, allowing her to make a third, rougher pass. Nesta twisted her wrist against his head, her nails grazing the sensitive vein trailing his now very erect cock jutting from between two powerful legs.

“That's what I thought,” Nesta murmured, looking up through dark lashes. “Just like me.”

“Nes—” 

Nesta silenced him by taking him into her mouth. She had to use her hand to make up the difference and she didn’t care. A soft, strangled noise escaped Cassian as his fingers plunged into her hair. 

Yes.

This was what she needed. Nesta took him until she gagged, and then she took a little more, teeth grazing his sensitive skin, hand punishingly tight. Cassian moaned, tugging at her hair. Nesta sucked again, trying so hard to communicate that she could take it. He was holding back, practically shaking from the effort. 

Nesta took more of him, widening her jaw in order to accommodate the sheer size of him. That was all it took. Cassian made a rough, snarling sound, pushing her off him.

“You’re a lady,” he panted, reaching for the buttons of his shirt. 

Finally.

“And in my house, ladies come first,” he continued, eyes flashing as he shrugged out of that shirt. Nesta swore softly at the sight of all that gleaming, corded muscle. Nesta had never seen someone so effortlessly toned, so big.

Powerful.

“I seem to recall something about eating out,” she said breathlessly, swallowing hard when Cassian prowled toward her.

“I haven’t forgotten, darlin’,” he promised, hovering over her with his unbuttoned jeans and a smile that made Nesta’s heart race. “But first, I think I’m owed a kiss.”

“Just one?” she asked as his lips ghosted over her own.

“Let’s start with one and go from there,” he said, sliding his hand around the back of her head. Nesta had only her ripped dress between them, which provided no protection against Cassian when he pressed the weight of his body against her. 

In another life, she might have kissed him nice and slow—teasing it out, exploring him thoroughly. Right then, though, Nesta thought she might explode if she didn’t have his mouth directly on her, his tongue stroking, thrusting, tasting. He was just as excited, grinding himself into her while she pulled at the strands of his hair.

He tasted like snow kissed wind, somehow. Like the crackling of a fire and a frosted window—like some memory she’d long forgotten. Nesta dug her nails down the back of his neck and against his shoulder blades until he bucked into her, wild and nearly unrestrained. Nesta could not remember the last time she’d wanted someone the way she wanted him.

“Off—get this—off,” Cassian panted between messy, hungry kisses. He was pawing at her dress, trying to figure out how to take it off. Nesta arched her back into his chest, earning matching moans from them both as she yanked down the zipper

Nesta would never know how she managed to get that dress off her body given Cassian never stopped his frantic kissing. Nor did she figure out how her bra joined her clothes on the floor. She only realized she was nearly naked when Cassian licked down the column of her neck before burying his face between her breasts.

“Fuck, Nes,” he breathed, both hands covering them entirely—no easy feat, given how large they were. Cassian massaged them, callused thumbs dragging over her aching nipples until Nesta was certain she was making a mess all over his bedding. 

His mouth latched around her and Nesta was lost, ripping at his hair as her body bowed off the bed.

“Responsive,” he teased, his tongue tracing around the sensitive bud. “I wonder…”

“Cass—” she gasped when his hand made its way between her legs. Nesta writhed when he began drawing circles on her clit, teasing touches that weren’t even close to what she needed, even as he switched between her breasts, sucking and licking. She could feel it all in her pussy, like every nerve in her body was intimately connected.

She could have come from that—for the first time in god knew how long. At least, without her own hand, without assistance from a toy. Nesta couldn’t recall the last time a man had pleased her so easily, so effortlessly.

Cassian pulled back, wild and impossibly sexy. Holding her gaze, he nipped his way down her body until he found the red pair of panties still clinging to her hips.

“Aw, for me?” he teased, kissing against the fabric. “Sweetheart, you’re soaked.”

Nesta pushed herself against his face, but Cassian was still licking against the lace. 

“I’ll bet you could come just like this. Couldn’t you?”

If he was doing it? Probably. Nesta merely whined, arching when he hooked his fingers into her underwear and peeled them off her.

He whistled softly. “You’re so fuckin’ pretty, baby. Do you know that? I feel sick at the sight of you.”

She didn’t have a chance to respond. Cassian’s tongue slid down the center of her, rendering speech impossible. Nesta reached for something to hold on to, and found his hair for purchase. Cassian groaned, the sound vibrating against her. Her thighs tightened around his face, earning another groan of pleasure. 

Cassian’s tongue was everything. She realized, after a lifetime of thinking she was just difficult to get off—too fussy, too particular, too exacting—that what she really needed was someone who knew what they were doing. Cassian had her spread apart, licking and sucking her clit with the sort of expert precision that told Nesta he liked what he was doing. 

She regretted not sucking him more. Nesta was going to come apart in record time and she knew she was going to beg him to do this again in a few hours. All weekend.

For fucking ever. 

Release was gathering on her spine, burning hotly through her blood until Nesta didn’t recognize the noises coming from her throat. Cassian, too, was rolling his hips into the mattress, trying to alleviate his own arousal. Nesta nearly stopped him, if only to have that long, thick length in her body.

As if he could hear her thoughts, Cassian pushed one of his fingers into her. Nesta tightened around him and Cassian swore at whatever he felt, though he didn’t stop. He fucked and sucked in time, working her like she was an instrument only he knew how to play. Nesta built up, up, up, until she was fucking his hand, rolling all over his face like a wild animal. 

Nesta broke apart with a scream she couldn’t control, bucking against him as she shattered into fractals of starlight. Cassian didn’t stop, riding her through wave after wave with clear, obvious excitement. It was only when pleasure became edged with pain that Nesta released the grip her thighs had around his face and Cassian came up for a deep breath of air.

“Fuck,” he said, his lips gleaming from her arousal. “Fuck, Nes—”

“Come here, come here,” she panted, scrabbling for his shoulders. Cassian obliged, kissing her frantically. His tongue was coated in the taste of her, pushed against her own. Nesta liked it, wanted more of him.

“Condom,” he breathed, finally shucking his jeans to trip over to his dresser. Nesta propped herself up on her elbows to watch, admiring his firm ass as he went. Cassian was quick about it, rolling the condom onto his cock with what she swore were shaking hands. His eyes shone, and if she didn’t know better, she would have sworn Cassian could not believe his good luck. 

“You sure?” he asked, hesitating at the end of the bed. Nesta nearly laughed, given she was spread out and still trembling from his mouth. Any other man would have jumped on her, would already be balls deep buried in her.

He was sweet, she decided.

She wanted to keep him, though she had no idea how. She’d figure it out later. “I’m sure.”

“Good,” he said with another heart stopping smile. “I don’t know what I would have done if you’d said no.”

“Sure you do,” she offered in what she hoped was a sultry voice. “You’d have gone into the bathroom and used your hand.”

“That was my plan to start,” he agreed, settling between the cradle of her thighs. “But this is much better. Have I said how pretty you are?”

“Once, at least.”

“Well.” He pushed himself an inch or so into her. Nesta gasped loudly. “You’re fuckin’ beautiful, darlin’.”

He’d punched all the air from her lungs. Nesta didn’t think she’d ever been stretched against anything half as large as Cassian. It was the sweetest pain that, with each shallow stroke inching him in deeper, became wholly pleasure. By the time Cassian had fully seated himself within her, a bead of sweat was trailing down his temple from the effort it took to go slow.

“Good?”

“Good,” she agreed, gripping the back of his neck for a kiss. “Cass?”

He hummed in response.

“I’m not fragile. You can fuck me, if you like.”

Cassian pulled himself out before snapping his hips so hard the headboard above them rattled. “Like that?” he grunted.

“Yes—yes, Cassian—”

He did it again, groaning loudly when she tightened involuntarily around him. This was Cassian unrestrained, his hair wild around his rugged, handsome face. His muscles bunched and shifted from the effort, held over her just enough that she could incline her had and watch his cock slide in and out of her body. 

He wasn’t finished, and Nesta already wanted to have him again. 

And again.

Cassian reached for her knees, bending them up by her shoulders to drive himself deeper. Nesta moaned, eyes rolling up into her head. The balls of her feet were pressed to his chest pushing him with each slide out, only for him to return with twice as much force. When she’d said she’d wanted it rough, well…this was exactly what she meant. 

“Nes, fuck—” he panted, eyes rolling up into his head as she came on his cock. Nesta arched hard, every muscle in her body going taut all at once. She clamped around him and Cassian came too, clearly unbidden and unprepared for the force of his own release. She wanted to drown herself in the noises he made, in the frantic thrusting of his body driving himself deeper on instinct. 

Cassian collapsed on top of her, dropping Nesta’s legs carelessly. She hissed when her bruised ankle hit the bed. 

“Sorry,” he whispered, lips against her jaw. “And I’m not, at the same time. Nesta, I…”

“I know,” she agreed, because she was certain they were thinking the same thing. Something else had happened between them, something they couldn’t so easily walk away from.

“We’ll figure it out,” he said, perhaps guessing those words were never going to come easy to Nesta. “I can hear you worryin’. Baby, you don’t have to worry about me.”

Nesta brushed her fingertips against the rough stubble of his face. “Promise?”

Cassian grinned. “I promise.”

[fromkenari]

A mass of fools and knaves

The full email exchange between Alex Claremont Diaz and Prince Henry Fox Mountchristen Windsor from Chapter Nine of Red, White and Royal Blue by Casey McQuiston. Put here for my best friend to read.

A mass of fools and knaves A agcd@eclare45.com                8/10/20 1:04 AM to Henry H, Have you ever read any of Alexander Hamilton’s letters to John Laurens? What am I saying? Of course you haven’t. You’d probably be disinherited for revolutionary sympathies. Well, since I got the boot from the campaign, there is literally nothing for me to do but watch cable news (diligently chipping away at my brain cells by the day) and sort through all my old shit from college. Just looking at papers, thinking: Excellent, yes, I’m so glad I stayed up all night writing this for a 98 in the class, only to get summarily fired from the first job I ever had and exiled to my bedroom! Great job, Alex! Is this how you feel in the palace all the time? It fucking sucks, man. So anyway, I’m going through my college stuff, and I find this analysis I did of Hamilton’s wartime correspondence, and hear me out: I think Hamilton could have been bi. His letters to Laurens are almost as romantic as his letters to his wife. Half of them are signed “Yours” or “Affectionately yrs,” and the last one before Laurens died is signed “Yrs for ever.” I can’t figure out why nobody talks about the possibility of a Founding Father being not straight (outside of Chernow’s biography, which is great btw, see attached bibliography). I mean, I know why, but. Anyway, I found this part of a letter he wrote to Laurens, and it made me think of you. And me, I guess: The truth is I am an unlucky honest man, that speak my sentiments to all and with emphasis. I say this to you because you know it and will not charge me with vanity. I hate Congress—I hate the army—I hate the world—I hate myself. The whole is a mass of fools and knaves; I could almost except you … Thinking about history makes me wonder how I’ll fit into it one day, I guess. And you too. I kinda wish people still wrote like that. History, huh? Bet we could make some. Affectionately yrs, slowly going insane, Alex, First Son of Founding Father Sacrilege

McQuiston, Casey. Red, White & Royal Blue: A Novel (pp. 239-241). St. Martin's Publishing Group. Kindle Edition.

Re: A mass of fools and knaves Henry hwales@kensingtonemail.com                8/10/20 4:18 AM to A Alex, First Son of Masturbatory Historical Readings: The phrase “see attached bibliography” is the single sexiest thing you have ever written to me. Every time you mention your slow decay inside the White House, I can’t help but feel it’s my fault, and I feel absolutely shit about it. I’m sorry. I should have known better than to turn up at a thing like that. I got carried away; I didn’t think. I know how much that job meant to you. I just want to … you know. Extend the option. If you wanted less of me, and more of that—the work, the uncomplicated things—I would understand. Truly. In any event … Believe it or not, I have actually done a bit of reading on Hamilton, for a number of reasons. First, he was a brilliant writer. Second, I knew you were named after him (the pair of you share an alarming number of traits, by the by: passionate determination, never knowing when to shut up, &c &c). And third, some saucy tart once tried to impugn my virtue against an oil painting of him, and in the halls of memory, some things demand context. Are you angling for a revolutionary soldier role-play scenario? I must inform you, any trace of King George III blood I have would curdle in my very veins and render me useless to you. Or are you suggesting you’d rather exchange passionate letters by candlelight? Should I tell you that when we’re apart, your body comes back to me in dreams? That when I sleep, I see you, the dip of your waist, the freckle above your hip, and when I wake up in the morning, it feels like I’ve just been with you, the phantom touch of your hand on the back of my neck fresh and not imagined? That I can feel your skin against mine, and it makes every bone in my body ache? That, for a few moments, I can hold my breath and be back there with you, in a dream, in a thousand rooms, nowhere at all? I think perhaps Hamilton said it better in a letter to Eliza: You engross my thoughts too intirely to allow me to think of any thing else—you not only employ my mind all day; but you intrude upon my sleep. I meet you in every dream—and when I wake I cannot close my eyes again for ruminating on your sweetness. If you did decide to take the option mentioned at the start of this email, I do hope you haven’t read the rest of this rubbish. Regards, Haplessly Romantic Heretic Prince Henry the Utterly Daft

McQuiston, Casey. Red, White & Royal Blue: A Novel (pp. 241-243). St. Martin's Publishing Group. Kindle Edition.

Re: A mass of fools and knaves A agcd@eclare45.com                8/10/20 5:36 AM to Henry H, Please don’t be stupid. No part of any of this will ever be uncomplicated. Anyway, you should be a writer. You are a writer. Even after all this, I still always feel like I want to know more of you. Does that sound crazy? I just sit here and wonder, who is this person who knows stuff about Hamilton and writes like this? Where does someone like that even come from? How was I so wrong? It’s weird because I always know things about people, gut feelings that usually lead me in more or less the right direction. I do think I got a gut feeling with you, I just didn’t have what I needed in my head to understand it. But I kind of kept chasing it anyway, like I was just going blindly in a certain direction and hoping for the best. I guess that makes you the North Star? I wanna see you again and soon. I keep reading that one paragraph over and over again. You know which one. I want you back here with me. I want your body and I want the rest of you too. And I want to get the fuck out of this house. Watching June and Nora on TV doing appearances without me is torture. We have this annual thing at my dad’s lake house in Texas. Whole long weekend off the grid. There’s a lake with a pier, and my dad always cooks something fucking amazing. You wanna come? I kind of can’t stop thinking about you all sunburned and pretty sitting out there in the country. It’s the weekend after next. If Shaan can talk to Zahra or somebody about flying you into Austin, we can pick you up from there. Say yes? Yrs, Alex P.S. Allen Ginsberg to Peter Orlovsky—1958: Tho I long for the actual sunlight contact between us I miss you like a home. Shine back honey & think of me.

McQuiston, Casey. Red, White & Royal Blue: A Novel (pp. 243-245). St. Martin's Publishing Group. Kindle Edition.

Re: A mass of fools and knaves Henry hwales@kensingtonemail.com                8/10/20 8:22 PM to A Alex, If I’m north, I shudder to think where in God’s name we’re going. I’m ruminating on identity and your question about where a person like me comes from, and as best as I can explain it, here’s a story: Once, there was a young prince who was born in a castle. His mother was a princess scholar, and his father was the most handsome, feared knight in all the land. As a boy, people would bring him everything he could ever dream of wanting. The most beautiful silk clothes, ripe fruit from the orangery. At times, he was so happy, he felt he would never grow tired of being a prince. He came from a long, long line of princes, but never before had there been a prince quite like him: born with his heart on the outside of his body. When he was small, his family would smile and laugh and say he would grow out of it one day. But as he grew, it stayed where it was, red and visible and alive. He didn’t mind it very much, but every day, the family’s fear grew that the people of the kingdom would soon notice and turn their backs on the prince. His grandmother, the queen, lived in a high tower, where she spoke only of the other princes, past and present, who were born whole. Then, the prince’s father, the knight, was struck down in battle. The lance tore open his armor and his body and left him bleeding in the dust. And so, when the queen sent new clothes, armor for the prince to parcel his heart away safe, the prince’s mother did not stop her. For she was afraid, now: afraid of her son’s heart torn open too. So the prince wore it, and for many years, he believed it was right. Until he met the most devastatingly gorgeous peasant boy from a nearby village who said absolutely ghastly things to him that made him feel alive for the first time in years and who turned out to be the most mad sort of sorcerer, one who could conjure up things like gold and vodka shots and apricot tarts out of absolutely nothing, and the prince’s whole life went up in a puff of dazzling purple smoke, and the kingdom said, “I can’t believe we’re all so surprised.” I’m in for the lake house. I must admit, I’m glad you’re getting out of the house. I worry you may burn the thing down. Does this mean I’ll be meeting your father? I miss you. x Henry P.S. This is mortifying and maudlin and, honestly, I hope you forget it as soon as you’ve read it. P.P.S. From Henry James to Hendrik C. Andersen, 1899: May the terrific U.S.A. be meanwhile not a brute to you. I feel in you a confidence, dear Boy–which to show is a joy to me. My hopes and desires and sympathies right heartily and most firmly, go with you. So keep up your heart, and tell me, as it shapes itself, your (inevitably, I imagine, more or less weird) American story. May, at any rate, tutta quella gente be good to you.

McQuiston, Casey. Red, White & Royal Blue: A Novel (pp. 245-247). St. Martin's Publishing Group. Kindle Edition.

[whatsk-poppinhomies]

When Winter Turns To Spring Pairing : non!idol Han Jisung x F!Reader TW : none really ; general angst ; the beginning is based on true events (if you know, you know) ; reader is a boss ass bitch and I love that for her ; Word Count : 3.0k Requested : Nope A/N : Still feeling angsty even though the spin the wheel series is over. I'm always feeling angsty!

You’re everything I could have ever wanted… You’re the most amazing girl in the world, I’ll never let you go. You’re the only person I want to be with from now until forever is over. 

It was foolish to fall in love with someone that you didn’t really know, to fall head over heels for someone that you only talked to over text or over the phone. It was foolish… But was it really any different than falling in love with a character in a novel? A person can feel love for a fictional character through words on a page, they can come up with this amazing image of this character just through what the author has written… Is it any different? He was the author of his own character, the character that he wanted you to see, to conjure up in your imaginative mind and fall in love with what he wrote himself to be. He was nothing like his character though… He wasn’t even close. 

Day after stress filled day led up to the moment where you’d finally get to meet him, a day that the both of you were excitedly counting down to. Was he really as excited as you were? He made it seem that way… He made it seem like his entire life had led up to this one moment where the two of you would finally get to meet. Your heart was racing and you felt like you were on cloud nine, imagining just how perfect it would be to finally be held in his arms the way he said he would hold you, to feel his lips press against yours, to finally share that one kiss that you felt like you had been waiting years instead of months for. He was the one for you, at least that’s the way he made it seem through the phone. 

Day after stress filled day led up to the moment where you’d finally get to meet him, a day that the both of you were excitedly counting down to. Was he really as excited as you were? He made it seem that way… He made it seem like his entire life had led up to this one moment where the two of you would finally get to meet. Your heart was racing and you felt like you were on cloud nine, imagining just how perfect it would be to finally be held in his arms the way he said he would hold you, to feel his lips press against yours, to finally share that one kiss that you felt like you had been waiting years instead of months for. He was the one for you, at least that’s the way he made it seem through the phone. 

The cold chill of winter crashed against you as you opened the front door, and there he was… He was more perfect than the pictures he had sent you, he was everything and more, and the smile that he greeted you with had your stomach fluttering and your knees buckling as a whirlwind of nerves stirred up inside of you. Excitement, anxiousness, a little bit of self consciousness… Did he think you were as pretty as he said you were when you sent him pictures? 

His arms wrapped around you in the tightest hug, the warmth of the embrace warded off the cold instantaneously and it was like your entire body was on fire, but you loved the heat of it, you relished in it, you had been waiting so long for this moment and now it was here and you didn’t want to let it go, you didn’t want to let him go. He was even more perfect up close, and the sound of his voice, unfiltered by the phone, flowing right into your ears, it was like music, the perfect song and you swore that you could listen to him talk for hours. 

Christmas had been the day before, but this was by far the greatest gift that you had received, and it had only come a day later. To finally be able to be with the man that you had fallen so carelessly in love with, it was like a dream come true. Did he feel the same way? You wished that you had asked him, you wished that you knew how he was feeling, but the smile on his face made it seem like he did… Like he was just as happy as you were in that moment. You wished that your assumption was correct… But wishing never got anyone anywhere… Did it? 

You loved him, and love made people do foolish things sometimes, especially if one was under the assumption that the person they loved loved them back just as much. Sadly, you were under that assumption, and why would you not be after everything that he had told you, after everything that he had promised you? 

Giving yourself to someone is such an important thing, it means so much more than what most people think it does. You gave yourself to him, and you could still remember the feeling of his hands on your body, the way his lips felt against your skin. It had felt so wonderful, to finally be so close to him, to finally be with him that way… But now the memory of it only made you sick to your stomach. You had given him everything, your heart, your time, your body… And he had taken it all knowing that he’d just throw it all away, throw you away once he had gotten what he wanted. 

It wasn’t immediate though, and maybe it would have been easier to deal with, an easier pill to swallow if he had just told you right after he had gotten what he wanted from you that he didn’t want you anymore. Maybe you wouldn’t have been so upset… But he waited, he made you think that he was the one, that he wouldn’t hurt you, that he hadn’t used you. He left you with dreams of a future that revolved around him and the life that you could have together only to shatter them completely. 

I think I still have feelings for my ex… I’m conflicted… It took being with you to realize I still love her. 

Were you strong or had you just wasted so many tears on other people that you didn’t have any to waste on him? You weren’t sure, but you didn’t cry, even though you felt like you wanted to. There was the lump in your throat and the painful beating of your heart that sounded a little too loud in your ears. The nauseating feeling in your stomach as you read over the text over and over again, hoping that you hadn’t really woken up, that you were just lucidly living in your nightmare. Why couldn’t he have told you that in the car? Why couldn’t he have told you that when you had gotten home? Why would he promise to come see you again when that’s how he was feeling? It didn’t make any sense, he didn’t make any sense. 

He wasn’t worth the argument, you knew that, but that sadness quickly turned to anger as you thought about all the time you had wasted on him, all the excitement filled conversations you had with your family and your friends about being able to see him and be with him. He hadn’t just made you feel like a fool, he had made you look like a fool as well. He didn’t even care, he was selfish, he only cared about himself and what he wanted and what he felt. He didn’t give a shit about you, and he probably never did. 

Winter soon turned to spring, passing time and a busy schedule had all but washed your mind of any memory of him. Sure, he lingered there and certain circumstances would arouse the image of his face or play back the sound of his voice as if he were there, but you’d quickly block out those thoughts, focusing on literally anything else to save yourself the sadness that was bound to come along with the thought of him. 

The skies seemed bluer in contrast to the bright green budding leaves that clung to the branches that had been bare for what felt like forever. What used to be a crisp cool that chilled your bones was now more pleasant and welcomed with the rising temperatures and the sun that refused to be hidden behind the clouds beat down on you, filling you with a warmth that could only be brought about by seasons changing. 

Work was picking up again, things were busy, and you welcomed the pace change, it was just another way for you to keep your thoughts from roaming to less important matters.

“Y/N, your phone is ringing!” One of your coworkers called out to you and you quickly ran over to it. Your family and friends new not to call you at work unless it was an absolute emergency, and your heart sank at the thought of what it could be that would have them calling you right now, but when you read the caller ID, you could only roll your eyes at the lack of information that showed up on your screen. “Who is it?” She pondered, standing beside you and trying to catch a glimpse of your screen. 

Your shoulders shrugged as you turned off your screen, sliding your phone into your back pocket where it would most likely go untouched for the rest of your shift. “Probably a scam caller. Don’t know what they’re calling me for, it’s not like I have any money to give.” You joked, picking up right where you had left off before you had gone on your break. 

Then you felt your phone vibrate, and you knew that scam callers usually didn’t leave messages, and your face must have given away what you were thinking as your coworker nudged you with her elbow. “Go check it, just in case it is your family calling from a different number.” 

Her words worried you because there weren’t many reasons why your family would have to call from a different number, and you couldn’t even think of those reasons right now as you rushed to the back room to listen to the voicemail, your heart and your stomach sinking with each step you took, unlocking your phone with shaky hands and pulling up your phone app to listen to the voicemail. 

“Hey, Y/N… I know that you probably don’t want to hear from me… Or I’m the last person you thought that you’d be hearing from right now. I wanted to know how you’re doing… I hope you’re not still working at that shit job… I know how much you hated it, how it made you feel, and you deserve better. Uhm… God, you’re probably going to hate me… And you’ll probably curse me out if you even respond, and I deserve that… But… I miss you. I miss you so much, I miss talking to you every single day… And… I tried to work things out with my ex… But, it didn’t work. I couldn’t stop thinking about you… Maybe I’m just fucked in the head… I don’t know… Can you just call me back when you get the chance… Even if it’s just to curse me out, I want to hear your voice again.” 

It was the last thing you thought you’d hear, and he was the last person that you thought you’d ever hear from considering the way things ended. You had worked so hard to clear your mind of any kind of thought of him, and now here he was, calling you while you were swamped with work and you couldn’t think straight and for some reason you felt like you were going to cry. Damn him and his perfectly imperfect timing. 

You weren’t going to call him back though, not right now, and you truthfully didn’t want to call him back at all. You should leave him wondering, leave him confused, make him question whether you got the message at all. But then you wouldn’t be able to tell him how you feel, how you really feel, and right now, you felt really fucking angry. 

With heavy steps filled with aggravation, you stormed back into the room where your coworker waited expectantly for you to tell her what was going on, but you only shook your head. “It was the fucking asshole from Christmas time.” Was all you had to say, because she knew all about it, she was the only person you could vent to at the time that it happened, and she had heard every bit and piece of what he had done and she had felt your secondhand anger as you ranted to her. 

“Oh hell no! You better not give him the time of day, he doesn’t deserve that.” She said, shaking her head and tsking her tongue. She was older than you by a couple of years, but she was like your work mom, someone that you could go to when you were feeling stressed and you weren’t at home to talk to your real mom about it. “That fucking asshole! I can’t believe he’d actually call you back up. Don’t you dare be the rebound for him. Let him suffer in his loneliness.” 

She was right, she was absolutely right, you knew she was, but you were still angry, and you wanted to lash out on him, you wanted to yell at him, so while you nodded your head in agreement to what she was telling you, you were mentally preparing the argument that you’d have with him as soon as work was over. 

There was no reason to be nervous as you called back the number that he had called you from. If anyone should be nervous, it should be him, but there was a swarm of bees that were filling your stomach and stinging at your insides as you listened to the rings, counting them down. If he didn’t answer by the fourth ring, you’d just hang up and block his number completely, and you were partially hoping that that’s exactly what would happen. 

“Y-Yeah! Hey! Were you working? Did you get home safe?” He stammered loudly through the speaker, and the sound of his voice had you wishing you hadn’t called him at all. “I know what you’re probably thinking, and I just want to let you know that it’s wrong… And I’m not lying to you… I just couldn’t stop thinking about you and how much I hurt you… And how much I care about you…” 

You scoffed, shaking your head as you listened to the pathetic little sob story that he was giving you. “How about you cut the shit and tell me the truth, Jisung.” You stated flatly, knowing damn well that he was lying through his teeth. “You weren’t thinking about me the whole time, you only thought about me now because I’m the only person that you think would actually take you back. And let me guess… It’s because your ex realized how much of an asshole you really are, how selfish you are, or maybe… Maybe she just found someone better.” 

His end of the line was silent for a moment before you heard a soft sigh and the sound of rustling. “She… She did find someone better… But that’s really not the reason I came to you. She found someone who was better for her… Someone who wanted the same things she did, and… It took me being back with her… To realize that you were the one who wanted the same things as me, and I was stupid for giving that up.” 

Did he really just use the same line that he used on you to leave… in an attempt to now get back with you? It was comically annoying, and you couldn’t help but laugh at it. “You’re fucking pathetic, Han Jisung, you know that?” You huffed, closing your eyes and falling back onto your pillows, already exhausted from the conversation. “I’m not your rebound bitch, and I’m definitely not the backburner bitch that you think you can come back to and pull to the front when you’re feeling a little bit hungry. Go try to play that shit on someone else, because it’s not gonna work on me, not again. Maybe you can find some other girl and do to her what you did to me, and then tell her you’re feeling a little bit conflicted.” 

And then there was more silence, and then the sound of a sniffle, and if he thought that you’d believe that those tears were real, he was sorely mistaken. You knew better, but there was something so gratifying in the thought that they could be real, that he could actually be crying, it would only be fair. “Y/N… You’re… You’re everything I could have ever wanted… You’re the only person I want to be with from now until forever is over…” 

The whispered words through the speaker of your phone had your heart hammering, but not in the way it was on the day that you met him, it was the kind of racing heart that one would get before throwing up, and you felt your stomach turning to the point that it truly felt like you were going to be sick. “Yeah well… Maybe you should find someone else to use that recycled line on, because I heard it once from you, and I’m not going to fall for it again. Goodbye, Jisung.” 

The call ended before he could say another word, before he could say anything else to try to rope you in. There were no tears, at least not on your end. You wouldn’t let him swindle you or sway you, you wouldn’t let him hurt you again, you weren’t going to let anyone hurt you that way again. You had been led on, you had been filled with a glimmering hope that you had finally found the one, but you had been let down, you had your heart broken, but you also had become stronger from it. That was the last time you’d let something like that happen, and now, as your phone vibrated with incoming messages and calls from his number, you could only smile, hoping that he was as hurt and let down as you had been. 

[justviwriting]

'Sick' - for @remadoramicrofics October Prompts

Rating: G Words: 738 A/N: Set shortly after HBP.

Tonks carefully knocked on the bedroom door. When there was no reply, she opened the door as quietly as possible, peaking inside the room. Remus was lying in bed, apparently still fast asleep. A smile appeared on her face at the sight of him, peacefully sleeping inside her bed.

It had not even been a month since they got together, and as Tonks had remained in Hogsmeade for a while longer and Remus had been occupied with trying to keep the Order alive, they had barely seen one another. Still, almost every night he had joined her in her rented room in Hogsmeade. And after the school year had ended, he had decided to move in with her.

Last night had been the first full moon since then. Although Tonks had made the potion for him, Remus had insisted on spending the night far away in the woods. When he had returned this morning, he had looked tired and pale, almost sick. Tonks had then convinced him to rest for a while. She did not know whether he had slept throughout the entire day, as she had left for work then, but it seemed like it.

While Remus had told her about the horrors of a full moon, she had never seen him directly after one before. Tonks had always believed that the transformation into a werewolf once a month was awful on its own, but that the potion might bring some relief. Yet there had been no relief on his face this morning, only pain and exhaustion. She wished there was a way to ease his suffering, but she knew that there was nothing she could do – and it pained her.

With a sigh, she quietly closed the door again as she left to grab something to eat and to prepare for bed. As she returned some time later, Remus was still asleep. For a second, she was almost afraid that something might be wrong, but his breathing was steady, and he looked peaceful, although his face was still rather pale.

She tiptoed around the bed, careful not to make any noise, and then quietly lay down next to him.

It was almost like a dream. Just a month ago, she would have never even dared to hope for something like this. Of course, she had dreamed about it; had thought about him constantly, imagining him lying by her side. But she had accepted that this might never happened – accepted that this would never be anything more than a dream. Now, it was reality.

She reached out her hand to gently brush aside a strand of hair that had fallen into his face. That had been a mistake. At her touch, he moved slightly before his eyes opened, slowly. It took him a moment to recognise her, but when he did, a smile appeared on his face. Instinctively, Tonks smiled as well.

“How late is it?” he asked, his voice sleepy.

“Already past nine,” Tonks told him, and could immediately see the surprise and slight shock on his face. “Did you sleep the entire day?” she asked.

“I guess I did,” he replied, clearly confused, and still partly asleep, with the smile now gone. “I don’t remember ever sleeping throughout the entire day after a full moon.”

“Did it help?”

Now, the smile was back. “Yes. I feel a lot better than I did this morning.”

“You still look quite pale,” Tonks pointed out then.

“Well, I did not eat anything today,” he told her. “And it usually takes a couple days to fully recover.”

“All that just to do it again in a few weeks,” Tonks muttered, biting her lip. “Is there anything I could do to … make it more comfortable?”

He gave her another smile, but shook his head. “No. But having you here is already more than enough. I don’t think I ever felt this … relaxed after a full moon before.”

At that, she returned his smile before she reached out her hand to caress his cheek. “Well, thankfully I am not planning on going anywhere else.” Then, she pulled him in for a kiss as Remus wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight. She smiled against his lips, closing her eyes at his warm touch. The world was falling apart, but at least they had one another. And as long as they could give each other comfort, nothing else mattered.

[shadouge01]

I’m back.

My discombobulated thoughts now that I have finished Sonic Prime SPOLIERS!!!!!!!

********

Okay so I watched season 1 in parts and season 2 when it came out and just watched season 3 today. I binged everything, so if I don’t remember something 100% correctly, that’s why.

Sonic prime is good.

I know, shocker.

Okay, I haven’t watched any of the other shows so I can’t compare it to X or Boom or whatever. But this seemed to have a darker tone than most other sonic media and I enjoyed that a lot. (I know I need to watch SATAM, don’t yell at me.)I’ve dipped in and out of this fandom a lot. And my participation is all over the place (I won’t be posting about Ken spenders anymore, I took my Kenspiracies too far when I had that stupid twitter account yeah, that was me) but ANYWAY

This show was great. Not perfect, the main flaw I found was the pacing is very fact paced and action heavy which is good for a Sonic show and good for a person with ADHD like me. However I found the first season took awhile to get going and was more episodic. I know it was to introduce the characters but I got bored a bit. I’ll say again I liked the episode in Season 1 with Thorn Rose but the Boscage Maze and especially No Place never felt that fleshed out to me. I still wanted them to be saved because I cared about Sonic and his friends, but the worlds weren’t very interesting.

I. Love. New. Yoke. The aesthetic of this place is perfect and VERY Sonic CD bad future-seque which is PERFECT. I only wish we spent more time there. Especially in season 3 which takes place entirely in the Grim after the first two episodes, which I get, I do, but the pacing again, I felt was too fast and too much action and not enough character moments. The he ending felt rushed, because I really wanted to see the rebels rebuild New Yoke after the Egg Council was gone (assuming the other shatterspaces didn’t freeze in time like Green Hill did, but I got the implication that was a unique case.) and I wanted to see the others return home as well. I guess this leaves it open to a sequel or expansion of some kind, comics, some kind of spin off media, I’d even love an animated movie if they fixed the pacing issues, but yeah, that was my only gripe. I guess I wanted more time with Sonic and Nine reconciled too before everything happened but that’s the painful thing in life, sometimes you don’t get that. We know the prism still exists so then interacting again some way in the future might be possible, if they know how to control portals and such, hell with the chaos emerald they might be able to go to other worlds anyway. I wonder where Shadow is keeping the prism. I wonder if Nine stays on the Grim by himself or if he goes back to New Yoke. He deserves friends, and I’m sure some of the others would come around to him given time. renegade Knucks was up there fighting with Sonic after all. It could work. I just want him to be happy :((

I guess those are small nitpicks in the grand scheme of things because I want to say that the tone and storytelling was GREAT, the music was epic and cinematic and fit the tone of the show very well, the contrasting color palettes of different worlds really helped make it pop. The 3D animation was fantastic and felt perfect for a show like this. Characters were VERY expressive. (Hey Sega, can you update your in game models please thanks, you know it’s bad when the SA2 models have more dynamic facial expressions). Anyway, I thought the voice acting was great. Shadow’s voice felt a little wrong but I’m probably just used to Humphrey and Griffith, I don’t like his voice in forces either but I digress. It worked for this. Sonic’s VA was amazing and really able to convey a wide range of emotions and I thought the other characters had good VAs. Nine was great. I do wish maybe he’d had a redemption earlier against a greater threat a la Zuko style but one can dream. Nine is still easily the best version of Tails, ever. I was lukewarm on Tails as a character before and Nine made me appreciate everything about all versions of Tails. Incredible. What I love about Nine is he takes things too far because he has serious trust issues and him and Sonic fail to communicate which as a neurodivergent person is very relatable. I think Tails in general and especially Nine, is very autistic coded, and I love that. I just wish season 3 Nine had more development before the end because his arc was perfect until the end of season 2 but I’m at least glad he did realize and did the right thing. He’s really just a scared kid who wants a safe place, don’t we all? Again I REALLY want to see more material with him in the future and what becomes of him with Sonic gone.

My other favorite side characters were Thorn Rose, Rusty Rose, and Dread, but I thought they were all great. I loved that the roses had a great character moment, as did Dread when he finally realized that saving his friends was more important than treasure. The Egg council was awesome, taking different traits of Eggman and turning them into a squabbling family was PERFECT. The fact that they met their demise because they were arguing over the prism was so real. Great stuff.

I want to talk about Sonic himself because this is one of the best Sonics I’ve seen. I haven’t decided if this is better than Movie Sonic, but I love both a ton along with Adventure. This Sonic is one of the most expressive Sonics with the most emotional range. Yeah, he’s still overly cocky and hilarious, and mostly always optimistic, but I love that he actually learns from his mistakes and comes up with new ideas. The fact he even took inspiration from the Egg Council to never give up was great. I loved the robots of all the main characters as well. Sonic was well written, VERY in character but still serious when he needs to be (unlike Archie Sonic (sometimes) and 06, which is bad).

Speaking of 06, this is the best written Shadow we have gotten since 06. I mentioned very early on in this blog how I love his arc through Shadow 05 and Sonic 06. Sonic is way out of character and the Elise thing is stupid, BUT, Team Dark was perfect in 06. It’s sad we don’t have Team Dark anymore, but Rouge on team sonic was cool, I just like Rouge in general and if they’re gonna make her part of the main cast, good. Okay, back to Shadow. His development in game is that he goes from being angry at the world and wanting revenge, to being emotionally numb and trying to figure out the truth, to finally realizing his purpose and knowing not to give up and kicking the bad guys when it hurts. He’s hard to crack, but he DOES care about his friends, as you can see through subtle actions, rather it be Team Dark, Sonic, whatever. He’d never ADMIT to Sonic that they’re friends, but I do genuinely think he cares for Sonic.

Anyway, Shadow has been stagnant as a character since then, the best writing was in Forces with him vs. Infinite but it didn’t do much to further his character. He hasn’t been in a lot of media lately like Frontiers (although maybe they knew they couldn’t write him well for games and wanted to see how he went over in prime and the upcoming movie). Prime Shadow made me more excited for Movie Shadow, because if we got one of, if not THE best Sonics ever in Prime as well as the movie, I’m expecting good things from Shadow in the movie, considering they really nailed Tails and Knuckles in Sonic 2, imo, and now knowing that Shadow is allowed to have feelings again is so good. He’s very in character, overly serious, and cold, but he is incredibly dedicated to the cause and unquestionably a hero, like 06 Shadow. Prime Shadow reminds me a LOT of 06 Shadow and that’s GOOD. He’s also just great with his subtle nod to Sonic when Sonic talks about his friends, their excellent back and forthing with Sonic cracking jokes “I didn’t know you were a hugger” and Shadow responding with his straight man persona “do you want me to save you or not?” It was great stuff all the way through. I thought he was decent in Season 2, but Season 3 was AWESOME. I guess I had to trade Nine for Shadow, sigh. Nine did come back around in the end which GOOD, if they kept him as a villain the whole time I would’ve been pissed, but I digress. This might be the best Shadow since SA2, he’s SO GOOD YALL and I could keep raving about Prime Shadow all day. I loved when Dr. Deep called him an edge lord, it’s great meta humor, and in character for Deep who actually is an edge lord. Really hope SEGA takes the positive feedback from this and makes Shadow better in upcoming games/comics. LET FLYNN WRITE A GOOD SHADOW FOR GOD’S SAKE!

Ahem.

Anyway, I’m glad I watched Prime, it gave us the best Sonic Shadow and Tails maybe ever and it took the darker tone that Forces tried and really fleshed it out. Good job guys.

[bubbleteycosplay]

What if Sigyn's stories

Part 26

So many different universes, so many different possibilities. And in some loves Sigyn and their different stories. Pictures and brief information have been written about some of these possibilities.But what is her full story, we don't know. But we can spin them further in our thoughts ^^

The whole project here serves to show the possibilities and potential that Sigyn would have had within the Marvel Universe. How she could have been reintroduced, her story made new and more exciting. #JusticeForSigyn stands for creating Sigyn content because Marvel doesn't give us any.

Inspired by @fauna-and-mythos @dailylogyn @dank-art @jonquilclegane @sigynthevictorious @thewitchysystem @shenanigans-and-imagines @sigynoffidelity @timeladyjamie @therese-lokidottir @puckwritesstuff @sigynappreciation @sigyn-obsessed @ellecaterina @roruna @sigyndottir @marvelentertainment @mistress-of-words

My Queen

Treason. Destruction. Truth.

He says you can only get up when you've reached the bottom.

Only when you are completely broken can you rise again.

I don't know if there's anything left that can be broken.

I'm running out of time. The enemies are getting closer and closer to me from all directions.

But this time I won't be alone.

A brother swore to protect me. The other person emphasized how much he hates me.

And yet they both want me.

But something dark is unfolding inside me.

A horrific event forces its way into my consciousness.

And even if the situation between us changes, it is these memories that could doom us all.

Loyalty and Mischief by (WIP)MermaidAriel13

When the beautiful Lady Sigyn arrives in Asgard, the Trickster-God, Loki, is determined to use her for his next scheme. But not all is as it seems, and Loki may just get a lot more than he bargained for.

***

What if... Loki had a wife? This is the story of the only woman who ever loved the God of Mischief.

Lady Sigyn arrives in Asgard as the betrothed to the Crown Prince, Thor Odinson. But there is another who seeks her out. Loki, the God of Mischief and Thor's brother, means to use Sigyn in his scheme to shame Thor before all the Nine Realms. But something unexpected happens - Loki finds himself falling in love with his brother's fiancée and sets all in motion to be with her, even going against the King and Allfather himself.

But others fear the immensely destructive force that resides within Sigyn, as well as Loki's influence on her. As she struggles to keep hatred and desire for vengeance out of her heart, the all-consuming fire within her slumbers beneath the surface, waiting for that one fateful day to sprout forth and eradicate the universe... or save it from another certain titanic event.

Tangled Victorious Affair by discocompacto

While Loki is still struggling to wrap his head around the concept of the TVA, he is introduced to someone who, though now a complete stranger, will turn out to be (and, most importantly, to have been) far more significant than he could ever imagine— and yet still deep down remembered.

Be careful what you wish for

She should hate him, betray him, kill him - and under no circumstances fall in love with him!

But the dreams and wishes from childhood are over now!

Don't love me

Chaos lies throughout Asgard. Power struggles and intrigues decide the fate of the Aesir. A true master of manipulation ascends to the throne of Asgard - allying herself with the supernatural powers of the Raven. Above all, the words of a woman cursed to death: "You should never have loved me, Loki."

Gender fluid Sigyn

In the remote village on Midgard near the Veiled Mountains, life is peaceful and uneventful. Although one hears rumors of a war in the West, one pays little attention to them. Only the young farmer's son Sigyn wants to find out more about his world. He is fascinated by the old stories about the Dark One, who wanted to bring eternal night to the world.

He soon learns in a terrible way how much truth there is in these legends: bloodthirsty Trollocs, the elves of darkness, attack the village and burn down Sigyn's family farm. The magician Loki saves the boy at the last minute and travels with him to Asgard. There, Sigyn learns more about the legendary Dragon Reborn and understands how closely his own fate is linked to that of his world...

Verity Willis is Sigyn

Verity Willis would have expected everything, but not that she is a reincarnation: She learns from Lorelei that not only does an ancient magic slumber in her, but that it is also Sigyn's reincarnation - and in order to train it, she is supposed to go to Lorelei accompany. Between witch spells, mystical legends and legendary beings, Verity must now find her way in this new world. In doing so, she repeatedly finds herself in a conflict of interest because she has no memories of her past life. But unfortunately that's not all... Everything that was clear, their fixed goal in mind, is totally turned upside down. Because Verity gets on the track of a dark conspiracy that not only puts her life in danger. Revealing the truth about her identity through Lorelei's actions will reignite an old hatred.

Amora my Love

When Sigyn's parents suddenly die, she is left penniless and alone on the streets of Asgard.

And what makes her already difficult situation even worse: she is half dwarf, i.e. a member of the people who enslaved the Aesir centuries ago.

Outcast and hunted, all she has left is a special coin as a glimmer of hope, which can gain her entry into the famous Magic Academy, the recognized center of magical and martial training in the Asgard.

But her joy is short-lived when she learns that the magicians refuse to teach her. And so their desperate eyes wander down to the ruins at the foot of the Storm Rocks, hoping to find something there and thus a future for themselves...

Caught in her own darkness, she meets a young sorceress who takes care of her. With all the time that passes and stones in their path, they get closer and their adventure and love story together begins.

They lost 3 years by @jonquilclegane

They lost three years

After the battle of Ragnarok, Loki and Sigyn had agreed. No more crowns, or thrones, or Tessaract. Who cared about birthrights, when it was destroying their family and tearing them apart?

So once everyone was safe, they ran away, very, very far. Thor knew, of course, and had given them his blessing. Though they had not needed it, they had appreciated it.

They found refuge on a little watery planet, with lots of sunny islands and beautiful waterfalls, that reminded Sigyn of Vanaheim. What a lovely place to start their lives and raise their children!

But alas, it did not last long. One day, while they were having dinner, Loki felt suddenly sick. Sigyn rushed to his side, asking him what was wrong with him, but he could not answer. Instead, he turned into dust in front of her helpless eyes.

She screamed, cried, begged for him to come back, but it was in vain.

Loki was gone.

She contacted Thor and he explained that Thanos had won and that there was nothing they could do.

Sigyn refused.

She would get him back.

By any means. Had she to force the Norns to change their fates, she would.

Had she to sell her soul to all the demons of Muspell to bring him back, she would.

During three years, she looked for Karmilla, their Queen, but she seemed to have disappeared. All the Norns seemed to have died, vanished into thin air, and she wondered if it was also the design of the Purple monster, or some other dark, unknown threat.

Finally, she arrived at the roots of Yggdrassil and admired its beauty for a long time, before she heard a very familiar voice.

“Oh, what do we have here? Hello little one”

That’s when she saw him.

Loki.

Loki was inside of the tree!

What in Helheim was he doing there?

“My love!”, she called, but he stopped her.

“Not your love, I’m afraid, dear”, he corrected her, “Only one of their variants”

“Variants?”, she asked, confused at the whole situation.

“Your husband will come back in two more years”, he said, “But I can bring him back now, if you’d prefer”

Sigyn let a little cry escape her lips, and she breathe again for the first time in three years.

“Yes, please, my Lord”, she wailed, “I beg you, bring him back to me”

And so the God of stories did.

Loki and Sigyn woke up, in their little house, on the planet they called home, in the arms of each other. Loki did not remember what had happened, but was relieved he was back with his wife, once again. They might have lost three years, but they had the rest of eternity to enjoy their happy ending.

At the end of time

Loki hadn't noticed Sigyn running after him and through the protective door. When he turned around and saw her, he pushed her against the nearest wall with the help of his magic. "I have to do this alone," he said and looked over at Loki and Sylvie, who were standing behind the protective door and giving him worried looks.

Loki opened the floodgate "Finally knows what kind of god I must be, for you" he said and smiled at her and went outside.

While he was still grasping all the threads of fate, a hand fell into his. It was Sigyn who picked herself up shortly after Loki magically threw her against the wall and went after him. He starts it.

"I told you that I would stay with you until the end and if I followed you to the end of all things. "I will stay by your side no matter what happens," she said with a determination and love in her voice that made Loki, who was already very close to tears, now stream down his face. How much he loved the woman, how much he always surprised him and how much he sometimes just drove her stubborn head crazy.

"I'm right behind you," and released Loki's hand and summoned her magical bowl. And they both walked towards the throne where Loki sat down and wove destinies with one another, becoming the god of history. His wife at his side who, with the help of her bowl, let healing and help run through all the threads. United together for all eternity and never alone.

Part 27 is in progress ^^

Here you can find the last part

[ms-katonic-of-tamriel]

The Man Called Uncle

Uncle Cicero as the Herald of Andraste. AU where Justinia brings him along to the Conclave... and he's the one who picks up the orb using telekinesis. The orb's power is already reversing Tranquillity, and Uncle gets a good look at the mysterious orb that's healing him, and starts going a little Gollum over it.

"Sacrifice the Divine if you want, Nine know I'm not putting myself out for the Chantry after what they did. I'm keeping this. Now, I'm no wizard but how does this work. Like this?"

Manages to trigger the explosion, but with a twist. No Anchor in his hand as he wasn't physically holding it... but the power activates his dormant dragon blood, and a Dragonborn can take the power like a dragon's soul. So here he is, in the Fade, newly Dragonborn, Tranquillity broken, and the Anchor's power has done two other noteworthy things: rejuvenate him physically and give him knowledge of the Shouts to open and close the Fade. And it's him they find sitting out in the Temple ruins, having just Shouted the Fade shut.

Leliana was not OK with him being here anyway. She was not coping with having him around, not OK with him being there every time she wanted to talk to Justinia, and then she saw the explosion and thought he'd died and felt horrible... and now he's prime suspect in the Fade explosion. Thankfully, no one else knows he's her father. He does though, and he's not Tranquil anymore and he's staring at her and...

Thankfully he's better able to control himself against Cassandra and snaps at her that they'd better not kill him, he's the only one who can seal Fade rifts. Which they saw him do, and so Cassandra ends up escorting him to the summit. Much against Leliana's wishes because he's an old man!

More suspicion because how are you suddenly so healthy, Cesaire.

"Perhaps Andraste healed me when she handed me out of the Fade and taught me the words to close Rifts."

Cassandra would have hit him if Leliana hadn't been right there. As it is, she's stuck with the mouthy little gobshite all the way up the Temple path. These two will never get on.

Solas can tell, just tell, he's absorbed the Anchor somehow. He just doesn't know how, and Cesaire's telling no one. So he pretends friendship and tries to get closer to find out, but unfortunately for him the one-time finest bard in Orlais can tell he's asking too many questions. Cue a lot of verbal fencing around each other, several dream sequences in which they visit each other, and much suspicion on both sides as they try to figure the other out. Cesaire's near certain Solas knows what was behind all this.

(If a Tamriel link is required, a certain other Dragonborn who can dream-walk might start sliding into both Solas and Cesaire's dreams. Whether it's the one from Cicero Dragonborn or Prodigal Dragonborn is unknown, but either might work rather well. We can assume Those Across The Sea are active and faithfully sending details on all this to the Ruby Throne which is Definitely Taking An Interest.)

Cesaire actually does remember what happened in the explosion, because the worst had already happened to him and he just plain wasn't scared, just hyped on adrenaline the whole time. Is he telling anyone? Hell no. (Leliana doesn't need to know about the abuse he might have screamed at Justinia in the Fade, or the stabbing threats.) Does this mean we can skip the Fade sequence in Here Lies The Abyss? Hell yes.

Varric gets on with him like a house on fire, as expected. They do actually have stuff to do other than write musicals, but the friendship is still there. Cesaire is extremely fond of the dwarf who didn't want to be there either. Varric's fascinated by the cheerful rogue who reminds him of Hawke. They both bond over complaining about Cassandra.

Cullen is far too easy for Cesaire to drive up the wall, and he does. Repeatedly. This will change once Cesaire's officially Inquisitor - Cesaire isn't about to make his life a misery once Cullen is officially his subordinate. He has some principles... and is surprisingly understanding about the lyrium addiction.

Josephine! Cesaire adores her. Cesaire is the epitome of charming gentleman from day one and flirts constantly. They bond over a shared hatred of the cold and taste for the finer things in life, and meet regularly to gossip about the Orlesian nobility. Leliana is horrified, needless to say.

Sera? Recruited immediately, Cesaire thinks she's hilarious. Vivienne... he's a bit suspicious of but recruits her anyway despite himself. They do actually start to get on. Shared sense of humour, it turns out, plus they're both skilled at the Game. Mutual respect does develop.

Blackwall - something is off there, but he doesn't suspect the truth about him until it happens and is livid he got blindsided by it. Despite that, they were friends once. Despite that, Blackwall gets liberated. Despite that, they end up still friends afterwards. Blackwall figures expecting the most disreputable rogue in Orlais to be a paragon of virtue and upholder of the law was too much.

Iron Bull - well, of course he's a spy. Of course! And he just... that is not how it works, Iron Bull. You're not meant to tell the organisation you're spying on that you're a spy. Sighs and agrees to the deal then has to face Leliana who... thinks it's a good idea and something they can use to maybe feed information back to the Qun. Cue bonding experience. As for Bull, he's very entertaining to have around, but Cesaire is always watching, watching, watching for the dumb merc mask to slip. (He tells Bull to save the Chargers. He saw enough to realise the whole thing was a setup, and decides he's seen enough of the Qun to reach a conclusion. It's in keeping of the general theme of the story that personal connections trump abstract principles.)

Dorian - DORIAN! Kindred spirit right there. If Cesaire wasn't straight, he'd have kissed him, as it is, Dorian is his son now. Witty comments all over the place, elaborate roasting before sharing a laugh over their purloined liqueurs, these two are having a fine old time.

Cole - Cole knows Too Much. Suspicion! All the same, he's young, sad-eyed, alone in the world, in need of guidance... Cesaire doesn't exactly trust him but doesn't dislike him either.

Sides with the mages. Offers them full allyship, flirts with Fiona even. She's not having it. He actually respects her more for that.

Cure for Tranquillity - he's not letting that one go. Pieces it together from what Cassandra's willing to share, discusses it with Dorian and reluctantly Solas, starts curing a few Tranquil in Skyhold. Mixed results, but overall they're ride or die for the Black Rose after and all hate the Chantry.

High Dragons - help, why do the High Dragons all seem to like him. One of them licked him. Do they think he's a baby dragon or something?

Halamshiral - Someone is having a Great Time! No, don't bother with secrecy, just have yourself announced as the Black Rose, get everyone's attention immediately, what do you mean now the entire ball wants to talk to me. Goodness, is that the Dowager, I haven't seen you for years, madame! How this goes is anyone's guess, but he always had a soft spot for elves, so perhaps he does go with his daughter's idea. Court approval is through the roof within five minutes of arriving, so basically he can do whatever he wants.

Cassandra's max disapproval scene might actually activate at the ball.

Of course, the real meat here is Cesaire and Leliana's relationship as father and daughter try to come to an understanding. It's not easy but he does love her. He doesn't stop trying. They do have conversations, both about spywork, the Game, Orlais past and present, Leliana's mother... and Leliana's pet nugs. Cesaire loves nugs, they're so stupid with their little hands and stupid little faces. Leliana promptly gets some of hers sent to Skyhold and gives him a pet one. She wasn't expecting to see the Black Rose cry over a nug, but he adores it.

The Unhardening of Leliana has been going on as a Thing all story, but it comes to a head at the Chantry, where we get a rerun of AoD and Cesaire telling her not to turn into him... and her hugging him and telling him a man who loves nugs cannot be all bad. Also he has been making the world a better place all this time, no?

"I have been trolling the Chantry out of spite. It is NOT the same thing!"

Leliana smiles and kisses him on the cheek. She tells him it needed it. He does end up supporting her for Divine, but only after a long discussion about her plans and does she really want this. Otherwise he'd have supported Vivienne because it would be funny.

If we go the Tamriel inclusive angle, Miraak may well turn up in person... or may just remain acting via dreams instead, but either way he'll figure out fairly quickly the link to Cicero the Younger, and an uncle-nephew reunion might happen too.

After it's all over, the Slayer of Corypheus who is also the Divine's beloved father could go anywhere he wants, but it's probably retirement to Antiva for him with Josephine. The Montilyets never in their wildest dreams expected the Divine's father to turn up and ask for their daughter's hand in marriage but they can hardly say he's not got standing. Also their financial status changes overnight what with half of Thedas wanting to curry favour.

Cesaire LaRose lives to nearly 120 years old and dies surrounded by Montilyet children and grandchildren. Just long enough for the elderly Divine Victoria to name the next age the Nug Age.