#I do wish characters had last names in this series if only for tagging purposes

[elisedonut]

Me I don't think I have any sort of like type when it comes to characters

Me looking at the last three anime boys i decided to marry in my little farming games

huh i might be lying to myself

[variouscolors]

-- [muses] • [lore] • [HCs] • [art] • [tag list masterpost] • [crossovers] --

[wheel of digimuses for random picks]

[interest checker form] ← i'm testing this method, so please fill it if possibly.

Blog Status: working on re-building this blog, sorry it might be a little messy!! 🙇‍♀️🙇‍♂️ (if you urgently need me check @beginningobserver or @digitalgate02 -- both here or on bluesky.)

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⚠ This blog is not spoiler-free, so any spoilers for the film THE BEGNNING (2023) are tagged as: 02tb spoilers If you would like to not see spoilers, or don't like spoilers in general, I recommend adding this tag to your filters (be it tumblr's or Tumblr Savior's filter systems)

Welcome!!

The text below is an updated version of the rules (est. Aug/02/2024).

Rules:

[Last update: 28/Sep/2024]

Thank you for passing by and please read all of this page, because some etiquette & info are present here:

I'm Ni/digitalgate02 (She/They) and I am 20+ so I ask you If you are underage please leave because I will not interact with you & if you do not I will softblock and maybe block you if you insist.

→ Personal blogs are not allowed to reblog ANYTHING in this account that are threads, ooc posts or posts made for this account exclusively. You can follow and send asks, but if you reblog anything that's not reblogs of art on purpose you will be blocked.

→ NO BASHING/DUNKING ON ANY SERIES/MOVIES/MANGA/GAMES, OR CHARACTERS OR SHIPS. OR "DUB VS SUB" DISCOURSE -- Also I won’t tolerate hateful comments or behavior towards myself or any RPer fellow as well.

※ I have so little to zero knowledge of the American dub of any digi-series. I will only work with the Japanese version or Brazilian dub.

※ I go with JP terminology & names, but I’m totes fine with dub names. If you start a thread with them, I’ll tag along with it. But if I’m the one starting it I’ll go with what I’m used to.

※ I go by canon divergent for certain material like WS games and ▽, as example. By the way, I'd like to go by what was said by my friend Shiha when it comes to canon and non-canon stuff.

→ I don’t ship human/digimon, adult/minor, incest and I might block if you ship it. I multiship things though! Each verse with multiple muses can have different relationships (platonic, romantic, family, rivals, enemies, etc??) -- but i don't write sm/ut.

→ I'm OC, AU, Canon Divergent and Crossover friendly, but I'd like to know your muses first. [check the crossover list for stuff I have minimal knowledge about btw!]

→ Pre-stabilished relationships are only for canon relationships. Your OCs will have to be introduced to my muses first, or plotted beforehand. Non-canon ships also must be plotted beforehand, sorry. I'm really picky about that. If you don't ship a canon ship, let me know beforehand so I can avoid writing pre-stabilished romantic relationships with you.

→ I don't expect anyone with canon characters to follow the storylines/plotlines I post (or reblog) in this blog. You're free to disagree with them as you wish; however If you like them and want to join them, feel free to ask me first! And yes, I can change parts of these verses/plotlines to accommodate you and your headcanons, just let me know first!

→ Our portrayals of the same muse may differ, and that's okay. Don't expect me to write the same muse like you and vice-versa (I feel uncomfortable when people do that).

※ If you feel unsure about your own portrayals, please remember that even the canon material has different portrayals of a character because it was written by multiple people. I may block if someone comes to "teach" me or anyone else how to write my or their muses. I have had bad experiences with this in the past, and now I vouch for everyone's right to write their muses/AUs/ships the way they want, even if I disagree with them.

→ Feel free to drop threads, but let me know please. If I want to drop a thread I'll let you know. No hard feelings though! We can always make a brand new one.

※ Replies/threads length may vary, so no need to write long replies if I write long ones, or short replies if I wrote short ones. I won't judge you by it, or for fancy formats/icons/etc. Just keep in mind I'm not English native so sometimes English accents might be a little harder for me 🙇‍♂️🙇‍♀️

→ I don’t like passive-aggressiveness. If you have something to correct in my posts, please do it politely.

※ Communication is the key -- I'm awkward when reminding people about threads because I don't want them to think I'm rushing them. And I'll admit I'm paranoid and had issues with people ghosting me in the past so it makes me a bit nervous with couples or multimuses that are not full digimon-only OR multi muses from friends. If you feel uncomfortable with anything I said or had done, please TELL ME. I'd like to apologize and solve things peacefully. If we don't click, then at least we can part ways with no hard feelings.

※ "Hey Ni, are you mad/ignoring me because you didn't reply/comment in the tags anymore..." -- No, I'm not. Don't worry, the reason is simple: I'm afraid of hitting the limit of saved tags in the autosave function and getting my tags reset. So I'd like to make comments privately (if you don't mind!) or via OOC posts with said tags copied into the post.

※I also don't like drama or people posting vague things about me. It drives my paranoia crazy. Again, this is thanks to issues I've had in the past. If I catch a post that sounds like it's about me, i'll silently unfollow or block.

→ Although I'm not mutuals-only, I'd appreciate it if you could soft-block me if you plan to unfollow. So I'll understand if you don't want to write or interact with me anymore. However, you are always free to talk to me again (unless you tell me *not* to, in which case I'll respect your wishes).

→ I'm always open to plot things -- relationships, threads, headcanons, etc. So feel free to DM me if you get an idea in mind so we can discuss.

→ This blog might contain NF/SW stuff, nothing sex/ual, but swearing or mild triggering content. Please be aware before following me. If you want me to tag something, please tell me beforehand and privately.

→ No godmodding and mindreader, etc. If you want to attack my muses or do some of their actions, please let me know first. Hugging or following you on a walk -- as examples -- are OK, but kissing and other sort of actions are NOT.

→ Btw i'm uncomfortable when people use real people icons in threads, or have live action muses. Sorry （；´д｀）ゞ

→ Please don’t send me requests to draw stuff. Some replies might have art! But if you just drop me something like “can you draw [insert here some prompt/idea]” i will immediately reply with my comm. price chart :) And no, I won’t draw fetish art.

※ If you want to use my art for icons, please let me know beforehand. Some of my art and icons have a backstory or are tied to a project of mine. And please, do not use my OCs as faceclaim or roleplay them. And please please, DO NOT REQUEST ARTISTS TO DRAW NSFW STUFF WITH MY OCS ESPECIALLY WITHOUT MY CONSENT.

→ Usual common etiquette – No hatred towards people’s religions, sexual/romantic orientation, gender (or lack of), PoC, ethnicities, etc. I won’t hesitate to block if needed.

→ Please send at least one meme if you are reblogging from me...! Reblog from the source/OP or try reblogging from my meme-reblogging blog: @gogglememes

→ Do not edit my art or repost/reupload it. If you wanna use it as an icon/sidebar, ask first. And no, you cannot use my art on A/I & N/F/T for ANYTHING. If you do that, I will block you immediately. If you want to use my doodles as icons, ask first. BTW i do have an icon warehouse blog (it used to be my old RP acc, but now it's for icons + archival of past stuff written with old fellows) → @goggle-digicons

○ If you're OK with those terms, then tell me your favorite Armor Evo from 02 material (Anime/Movie/Drama CD) -- you can use either name version (i can always research for the mon's OG name on wikimon) then there ya go.✌ ○

○ Icons credits: -- Tumblr:@7digitalheroes | @goggles-and-noodles | @digimon-icons | @iconwarehouse | @ofcanalave | @qtpiecaps | @guiltfreeicons | @blujaerps | @facexclaimxcafe-blog | @fractalflare -- Live Journal:[1][2][3][4][5][6]

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About Ni:

Hi I'm Ni (She/They; 20↑), I love Digimon in general, but the series I work with more is the OG Adventure series. I'm Ace/Panromantic, please use she/her or they/them pronouns. I'm a scaredy-cat kind of person who gets nervous and anxious at first, but once we start bonding I'll drop that and be more of myself. Also, I'm not good with people/communication, so sometimes I have meltdowns and have to step back for a while. Usually I'm either cooling off on a non-roleplaying blog or just hanging out on Discord. So please be patient with me during these times.

I love to learn new things, so please correct me if needed but without yelling at me because I kind of hate being yelled at, because I had bad personal life experiences in the past. My muses, despite some being quite closer to my personality are NOT me so please be aware of the differences between muse and writer.

I get super duper fired up when talking about the things I love the most. However I can be quite harsh and critical about said stuff as well. I tend to get a lot of brainstorms so if I’m messaging you that much please tell me and I will slow down my pace. 

I also get excited when writing a thread, so I tend to reply hella quickly while I still have in mind what to say. Don’t rush me, but give me small reminders if I forget to reply since there’s a chance I actually forgot to or thought it was your turn when in fact I hadn’t replied in the first place.

I also draw. Like, a lot. Quite compulsive. Some of my non-canon-material icons are my own art. And I feel a bit uncomfortable by using other people’s fanart WITHOUT their permission. So yeah, I do my own doodled icons… When I get energy for those.

[stirdrawsandreblaws]

Ten Characters, Ten Fandoms

i got tagged by @apathetic-theme-song

Shion - King of Fighters

Sabrina/Natsume - Pokemon

Duo Maxwell - Gundam Wing

Makoto/Lita Kino - Sailor Moon

Cho Hakkai - Saiyuki

Yuuko Ichihara - xxxHolic

Count D - Pet Shop of Horrors

Vincent Valentine - Final Fantasy VII

Kimimaro - Naruto

Alphys - Undertale

i can never think of anyone to tag but if you wanna do this because you saw me do it, feel free to @ me and make me look at your list :3

also this isn't required but bc i love them i put images and brief descriptions of all of these characters under the cut

Shion, my beloved; the androgynous sub-boss of King of Fighters XI, he uses multiple weapons including a rope-dart, chinese spear, meteor hammer, and can punch air so hard it turns into a projectile. he often quotes Sun Tzu's Art of War, knows tons about cooking, and loves eating delicacies. currently wandering some kind of weird extradimensional space after his boss tried to kill him (he got revenge tho >:3 he can have little a murder, as a treat.)

Sabrina/Natsume (left) in the Pokemon anime had psychic powers so strong she splintered her personality into a grown-up half and a child half, both of which were able to exercise their own wills independently (the latter via a doll). she was scary, but eventually became more lighthearted and rejoined her split halves thanks to a goofy Haunter.

Duo Maxwell (center) is many things: orphan, gifted mechanic, and self-proclaimed God of Death--which is why he's the pilot of the Deathscythe, a grim-reaper-esque mecha. he witnessed a lot of death early in life, to the point that even his first and last names connect him to people close to him who died

Makoto/Lita Kino (right) is Sailor Jupiter; she's strong, tall, tomboyish, and self-sufficient after the loss of her parents. Her lightning attacks are powerful, but her sense of justice is even more so. She has a cute side, too, and gets flustered when someone calls her feminine. >:3

Cho Hakkai (left), problematic fave #1. the mom friend, and a stepford smiler who took a correspondence course in lockpicking, he's atoning for incest and mass-murder by....doing more mass-murder, but the gods told him it was cool this time. to be fair, he's mostly a healer now, as well as the party's designated driver (his dragon, named Jeep, turns into a Jeep).

Yuuko Ichihara (right) is a space-time witch who grants wishes. i want to say more but instead i'll just plead with you to read the xxxHolic manga (and read/watch Tsubasa -RESERVoir CHRoNiCLE- for the full experience, since they have some story linkage).

Count D gets two images for a little gallery because look at this freak. gorgeous. the way they move in the OVA is fantastic. genderless sugar-addicted ecoterrorist; what's not to love??

Vincent Valentine (left) is a gunslinger who can transform into a fanged monster and chooses to sleep off his depression in a coffin, but he's not a vampire. that's just how it is sometimes. he even joins the hero party without doing anything to fix his bed hair.

Kimimaro (center) has a bloodline ability that lets him utilize his bones as weapons. As a child, he was kept in a cage and only released for combat, despite his gentle nature. Orochimaru (the series' first main antagonist) found him after his clan was wiped out, and took him in; being valued by Orochimaru gave him purpose, and he fights like a zealot as a result... (;A;)

Alphys (right) is a cringefail otaku lesbian lizard who, nevertheless, is a brilliant scientist. she created Mettaton's mechanical body, after all. we don't need to talk about her other works. :) really. :) :) :)

[queenshelby]

THE SECRET - part one of three

Featuring: Cillian Murphy x Virgin!Reader

Summary: You are a new cast member, playing Tommy Shelby’s love interest. During filming, you fall for your co-star Cillian Murphy.

Words: 6,556

Warning: Smut, Age Gap

Notes: For the purpose of this fic, Cillian is single.

Tag List: @lilymurphy03 @deefigs

@chrisevanshoeeee @desperate-and-broken

@weepingstudentfishhorse  @fookingshelby  @livinginfantaxy

@atomicsoulcollecto  @datewithgianni @mariapaiva13

The Scene

You were nervous. This was your first role in a popular TV show.

You had been on small production TV shows in your home country of France. But this was different. The show had international success and you couldn’t believe that the producers of the show had chosen you for the role of 27-year-old Yvette L’mare for the series’ final Season.

You spoke fluent French and English and had experience in scenes with extensive dialogue due to your theatrical experience since you were 12.

But, you were by no means as experienced as some of the other candidates they had casted. After all, you were only 19.

You read the scripts over and over again after your successful audition and made yourself small rehearsal cards for each scene. The dialogue heavy scenes didn’t concern you. But, there were some scenes which were out of your comfort zone.

Your script included two intimate scenes with the actor who played the main character of the show, Thomas Shelby.

The first scene was simple enough, not much more than a kiss. The second scene, however, was to be filmed under closed set. Neither of you were going to be clothed in more than underpants, which meant that only the director, one assistant and the camara man would be present.

Before the audition, you watched the last two seasons of Peaky Blinders and you re-watched them just a week ago as part of your preparation and to give you an idea what the director will look for when filming these kinds of scenes.

Before that, you hadn’t paid much attention to the show.

From watching some of the series, it was obvious to you that your co-star was experienced. He portrayed Thomas Shelby impressively well which was something that made you even more nervous.

Will you live up to the standards of the director? Or will you fail miserably with these challenging scenes?

It didn’t matter. It was all too late now. You signed the Contract and were on your way to England.

You arrived a day before filming started in order to settle into your apartment.

The apartment was located within a hotel residence that was booked out for the cast for the entire period of production.

You shared a small two-bedroom apartment with another new cast member named Emma. Emma was from France as well and, ironically, portrayed your sister in the show. Emma was 24, slightly older than you and quite attractive. You immediately got along. She was focused, didn’t care much about partying and was down to earth.

For the first evening, after everyone arrived, the producers organised a dinner to introduce the new cast and crew members to everyone. This was when you first got to meet your co-star, Cillian.

Since you had several scenes together, the director of the show took the time to personally introduce you to Cillian.

Cillian greeted you with a big smile and you knew immediately why so many women were smitten by him. You recalled that, when you told friends and family about your audition, they wouldn’t stop talking about Thomas Shelby and how insanely attractive he was.

They were not wrong. But, what impressed you the most about Cillian was that he was so easy going and funny.

You talked to him for a while, about the most random topics, ignoring everyone else for at least 20 minutes until it was time for you to meet the other cast members.

‘Looks like you two have a lot to talk about?’ Anthony said jokingly.

‘Talking about wine’ you smiled, rather shyly.

‘Yeah, I got carried away talking about the wine production in the province. Did you know that Y/N’s parents own Bessiux Wines?’ Cillian asked, catching Anthony by surprise. ‘His sister got married at your parents’ estate last August’ Cillian added, causing Anthony to nod.

You talked about your parents’ winery for a little longer before Anthony asked you to meet the other cast members.

‘I am looking forward to working with you Cillian’ you said as you walked away and he responded with a smile and comforting ‘Likewise’.

After your encounter with Cillian you were introduced to Finn Cole and Natasha O’Keefe. You heard about Finn from your new roommate but only just then realised that he portrays Michael Grey.

You talked to both Finn and Natasha for a while and, whilst you enjoyed their company, you wished that you had some more time to talk to Cillian. Unfortunately for you, he left rather early that evening.

The next day, you picked up your schedule for the week and noticed that the scenes you prepared for were to be shot completely out of order.

In fact, your most intimate scene was scheduled for 10am on Day 2 of Production. You couldn’t believe it. You were by no means prepared for that.

Your first day on set went well and the director of the show complimented your work on several occasions. But, when filming was finished for the day, your nervousness sat in.

‘Are you alright Y/N?’ Emma asked as you were picking on your salad and looked at tomorrow’s scripts.

‘Yeah, just a bit nervous’ you sighed.

Emma looked over your shoulder to read your script.

‘Wow, they are throwing you right into the deep end’ she giggled.

‘Yes, they are’ you said with a shy smile before listening to some advice from Emma, who had more experience than you acting on screen.

That night, after reading your scripts at least ten more times and letting it play out in your head, you could not sleep and your lack of sleep was evident on set the next day.

‘Are you alright Y/N?’ Cillian asked concerned, noticing your yawning and your hands shivering slightly.

‘Yes, I am fine. I am just trying to think how to act the next scene. From reading this, it isn’t very clear to me what exactly I need to do’ you said concerned.

‘These scenes are scripted in a way to allow for improvisation. From experience, actors often fail to act these kinds of scenes directly to script, that’s why’ Cillian laughed.

‘Right, so the script is lacking the details on purpose?’ you asked.

‘Correct’ Cillian said. ‘John and Anthony will tell us what to do and in which direction to face so that you are covered. You don’t need to worry’ Cillian said reassuringly, causing you to giggle.

‘I am not worried about anyone seeing my breasts or something. I just don’t know what do, where to put my hands, my face, any of that’ you explained with total embarrassment.

‘Well, I suppose you just pretend to do what you would normally do when you are getting down to business’ Cillian said with a chuckle, not knowing how else to explain it.

‘Well, my experience in this department is limited. So, I apologise in advance for any awkwardness’ you said, your cheeks flushing even through the dense make up.

‘Y/N, these scenes are awkward even for the most experienced actors. If it gets too uncomfortable, we can postpone it, alright’ Cillian said, keeping a relaxed approach.

‘Alright. Thanks Cillian’ you said just before it was time for you to get changed into your gown.

The next time you would see Cillian was on the closed set, pretending to make love to him on the large cedar bed.

Just as you were getting undressed in the change room and put on the skin-coloured panties and robe you were given by the set assistant, you topped up your perfume.

You were going to be so close to each other, at least you wanted to smell nice.

After you were done, the set assistant applied some more lipstick and fixed up your hair before you sat down on the large bed. You were nervous, your heart pounding.

Cillian was much more relaxed sitting next to you in black Clavin Klein briefs. There was no need for a robe, his intimate parts were well covered, unlike yours.

His freckled skin was highlighted by the light which had not yet been adjusted and you couldn’t help but look at him while you made an effort to keep your small breasts covered from him at this point.

The cameraman was angling the camera while the director discussed the scene with you and Cillian.

You knew that this was going to be a disaster. The issue wasn’t so much that you were naked in front of the camera and the director, but more the fac that, as part of the scene, another man who you felt somewhat attracted to was about to see you like this, completely vulnerable. He was about to touch your naked skin and kiss you, but not out of his own accord. It felt absurd to you, yet you knew this was part of the job.

Finally, after the director gave his instructions, you got yourself into position.

With some embarrassment you handed the set assistant your robe and lied down on the bed.

You were waiting for some kind of joke from Cillian to lighten up the mood, but Cillian was very professional.

He sat down right next to you and you could tell that he was trying very hard to look away from your breasts.

Before he climbed over you to get into position, he gave you a warning. Regardless of the warning, you stopped breathing for a minute as he positioned himself on top of you.

‘Are you alright?’ he asked as he could see the nervousness on your face.

‘Yes’ you nodded, taking in a deep breath. He was so close that you could smell his skin and the scent of his aftershave.

‘Sink down a bit on the left forearm Cillian, we want to keep the rating below R18’ the director said with a laugh because your breasts were fully visible on camera.

‘We do?’ Cillian chuckled, causing you to laugh just before Cillian adjusted his position as instructed. For a short moment, his chest brushed against your left breast.

‘I am sorry’ he said politely.

‘It’s alright Cilly’ you said.

‘I think we are good now guys, I will count to three and we start the first part of the scene’ the director said.

It felt like an eternity with Cillian on top of you by the time the director called action.

In this scene, Tommy and Yvette were having sex. It was to start with a kiss followed by the obvious act.

There was no practice for a scene like this and, as soon as you heard the word action, Cillian’s lips slowly met yours. You closed your eyes and caressed his face with your hands as you let him take the lead. The kiss lasted for what felt like an eternity until he pulled away from you.

His body was soon grinding against yours, but without your most intimate parts touching. He made sure of that. Regardless of this, you could feel his legs in between yours and his chest brushing against your breasts. The sensation sent shivers down your body and small little goosebumps began to cover your chest. How embarrassing you thought and, unfortunately for you, your embarrassment was evident on your face and the cut was called.

You attempted the scene again several times. You kissed over and over again and your hands moved from his face to his arms and chest, exploring his skin while his body was grinding against you.

But, this wasn’t enough for the director who picked up that the movement of your hands and the expressions on your face weren’t giving the viewers the impression that this was real. Your biggest problem was that you were attracted to Cillian and you realised this more than ever during this scene and tried very hard to hide it, making you look nervous and embarrassed.

After a few more takes, the director suggested a break.

‘I am so sorry Cillian’ you said as you sat next to him in your dressing gown.

‘Don’t be. You are doing fine. These scenes can be tricky and really shouldn’t be scheduled for the second day of filming’ he said with a warm smile before excusing himself.

He was gone for about ten minutes while you had some water and waited for further instructions from the team.

When he returned, he informed you that he agreed with the director that the scene be postponed.

‘Cillian, I can do this, really’ you said upset about the postponement.

‘I know you can, but like I said, it’s the second day of filming and it would probably be easier once we had a few more scenes together’ Cillian suggested.

‘Is that not going to be a problem with the set up?’ you asked.

‘No, the prop can stay here for another month and one of the perks of being a producer is that I get a say in this stuff’ Cillian smiled.

‘I feel like such a failure’ you said embarrassed.

‘You are not Y/N, you are doing great, really’ Cillian said, his hands touching your arms.

‘Common, time to get ready for more scenes’ he said with a warm smile and you followed him to get changed, separately of course.

Mr Matchmaker

Later that night, some of the cast members were heading to the pub for dinner and you sat down next to Natasha and Emma when you arrived.

You told Natasha and Emma about what happened on set. You were still upset about it.

‘Oh gosh, don’t worry Y/N. Cillian is very easy going and Anthony is very impressed with your scenes from the first day so you have nothing to worry about. I remember my first sex scene with Cillian and it took nine takes and a lot of laughter to get it right’ Natasha said.

‘How do you know when it’s right though? It’s extremely awkward’ you said.

‘If it looks like you are having sex then it’s right’ Natasha laughed. ‘I actually think about the man in my life and just switch off throughout the scene. So, if you have a boyfriend, think about him. That might help with the comfort level’ Natasha said.

‘I am happily single’ you said with a smile just as Cillian arrived at the table.

‘You are late’ Natasha said, noticing the frustration on his face.

‘Sorry’ Cillian said as he sat down next to you.

‘Still dramas with Nadine?’ Natasha asked, causing you to wonder who Nadine was.

‘Yes’ he responded just before he ordered himself a drink.

Throughout the conversation you learned that Nadine was Cillian’s ex-girlfriend with whom he broke up as little as six weeks ago. Him and Nadine were together for three years and shared a house in Dublin until recently.

Your group was soon joined by some more cast members, including Finn Cole and everyone seemed in a pretty good mood.

You talked to Finn for a while until you excused yourself to get another drink.  

As you walked to the bar, you noticed Cillian following you and engaged in a conversation with him.

‘Just in case you haven’t noticed, Finn seems to like you’ Cillian said as he stood next to you at the bar.

‘Oh, what makes you say that?’ you asked.

‘I just know. My matchmaking abilities are impeccable’ he joked.

Whilst you felt flattered, you weren’t interested in Finn and little did Cillian know that he was the one you had your eye on.

‘Really?’ you asked.

‘Yes, really. You should probably consider him. He is a nice guy, down to earth, good looking, the right age’ Cillian said cheekily.

‘I have my eyes on someone else Cillian, but thank you for your efforts’ you said with slight embarrassment and a hint of humour.

‘Now I am intrigued. Who is it? Someone on set?’ Cillian asked.

‘None of your business Mr Matchmaker’ you laughed.

‘Well, if you ever require my services, you know where to find me’ Cillian said, causing you to raise your eyebrows.

‘Services as in setting you up with someone from the crew, discreetly of course’ Cillian laughed, realising that his comment may have been received by you in the wrong way.

‘Right, you got me excited there for a moment’ you said jokingly.

‘Did I?’ Cillian joked. ‘Now that makes me feel good at my age’ Cillian added.

You knew how old he was. You googled him, just before you came to the pub, because you were curious about him, his background, things he doesn’t talk about. But, to your surprise, the fact that he was nearing 45, didn’t bother you the slightest and it certainly didn’t dampen the attraction you felt towards him.

You also knew that, being 19 years old, you would have no chance with him. He wasn’t the type of actor who was chasing young models like many other celebrities his age.

You and Cillian talked and joked for another 20 minutes before he excused himself. He had a busy day filming ahead of him and needed to get some rest.

Over the next few days, Cillian and you had several scenes together and spent some of your breaks together. You enjoyed his company and he clearly also enjoyed yours.

On Day 9 of Production, you even went as far and asked Cillian whether he wanted to watch the Liverpool game with you and Emma.

He accepted your invitation and you were quite excited. Emma was confused as to why you invited him over but didn’t think much about it until there was a knock on the door and she opened it.

To both of your surprise, Cillian had invited Finn along. Was he really so oblivious to the fact that you were attracted to him that he had to bring a sidekick, you thought?

The evening went rather slow and with you sitting in between Finn and Emma, you felt somewhat uncomfortable.

The next day, on Day 10 of Production, you had another somewhat intimate scene with Cillian. It wasn’t more than a kiss and some touching. Regardless, you were nervous but not nervous enough to first ask him why he invited Finn.

‘He invited himself when I told him about it’ Cillian chuckled. ‘I told you, he likes you’ he added.

‘That’s just great because now Emma thinks that I have a thing for him’ you said laughing.

‘These Rumours. You got to love them. Sometimes I seriously feel like I am back at school working here’ Cillian laughed.

This conversation led to an interesting question from Cillian. After you had time to talk about your days at school, he brought up your upcoming birthday. You seemed to have referred to school as a recent event, so he couldn’t help but ask how old you were turning.

‘I am turning 20’ you responded, causing Cillian to look at you almost like he had seen a ghost.

‘You are 19?’ he asked.

‘You seem surprised. How old did you think I was?’ you asked.

‘Not sure, mid or late twenties maybe?’ Cillian said just as the set assistant called you both to the scene.

Your nervousness set back in as you took your position in Thomas Shelby’s office.

The scene started of with a dialogue between Thomas Shelby and Yvette which went smoothly, as expected. The next part of the scene involved Thomas lifting Yvette onto his desk and kiss her passionately while running his hands over the back of her body.

The first attempt resulted in Cillian and you both laughing as he lifted you up. It was awkward and it didn’t help that you were ticklish.

The next take went smoothly. Cillian lifted you on to the desk gently before his hands ran down your back while he kissed you. Your hands caressed his face as he did and the director had to call the cut on the kiss.

You enjoyed it, and to his surprise, so did Cillian. He felt uncomfortable about enjoying kissing you or even spending time with you outside of work. Not only were you a co-worker but you were also much younger than him.

A sense of guilt ran through his mind right after the scene now that he knew your age. Kissing you shouldn’t feel good, it was wrong.

The director was happy with the scene and you hopped back off the table before asking Cillian whether he wanted to have lunch with you.

Little did you know that your lunch date was going to be your last with him for while as Cillian was trying hard to keep his distance from you thereafter.

Birthday Surprise

But this all changed another week later, on your birthday, which was Day 17 of Production.

By that point, filming was getting to you and you were tired and, therefore, declined the offer from Natasha to organise a birthday party for you.

Instead, you and some of the crew and cast went for dinner at a nearby restaurant.

The food was amazing and you spent two hours at the restaurant after a rather long day of filming. By about 8.30pm half of the crew and cast had left and it was only you, Cillian, Emma, Sam and Finn who stayed.

Finn was going to meet some friends at a nearby pub at 9pm and invited you all to join him. Whilst Emma and Sam agreed, you and Cillian weren’t keen and made your way back to the apartment complex.

‘Would you like a glass of wine?’ you blurted out all of a sudden just as you were both getting into the elevator. This question took all of your courage after Cillian had been avoiding to spend time with you.

‘I think the hotel bar is closed already’ Cillian said.

‘Well, as it happens, I am holding a bottle of red wine in my hand’ you said cheekily holding up the birthday present from Natasha.

‘I am not sure Y/N, we have to be up early’ Cillian said.

‘Common, it’s my birthday’ you said convincingly, causing Cillian to laugh.

‘Alright, I suppose why not’ Cillian said as followed you down the hallway.

‘Your place. Emma is determined to pick up a date at the pub’ you laughed.

‘Yeah, I don’t want to be there for that’ Cillian joked as you walked further down the hallway. Your apartments were on the same floor.

You walked into Cillian’s apartment and took off your jacket before sitting down on the small lounge.

Just after Cillian poured two glasses of red wine and sat down next to you, his phone rang.

The display showed ‘Incoming Call from Nadine’ and he turned his phone to silent.

‘You should let me pick it up, it might solve all your problems’ you joked.

‘It just might’ Cillian laughed as he pressed the ‘Ignore’ button and put the phone down.

Just after the short interruption, Cillian and you began to talk about your work, travelling and some other things until he brought up an uncomfortable topic.

‘Do you remember two weeks ago when I tried to talk you into going out with Finn?’ Cillian asked.

‘Yes, Mr Matchmaker, I remember. Why?’ you said.

‘You said that you had your eyes on someone else…who is it?’ Cillian asked with a laugh, causing you to take a deep breath.

‘Oh god, are you still going on with this?’ you said with a laugh. This was the fourth time Cillian had asked you this question since you mentioned it to him.

‘Common, I have been pondering about this for weeks now. Tell me’ Cillian said.

‘No’ you giggled.

‘I promise I won’t tell anyone’ Cillian said.

‘Stop it’ you responded.

‘Alright, I will take a guess’ Cillian said before taking a pause. ‘Harry?’ Cillian asked, causing you to shake your head.

‘Daryl?’ he asked, causing you to shake your head again.

‘I don’t know then. That’s literally everyone who is around your age’ Cillian laughed.

‘Who said he’s around my age?’ you asked, causing Cillian to raise his eyebrow.

‘Paul?’ he then asked, causing you to shake your head again. Was he really that oblivious?

‘Everyone else is married, I think’ Cillian said.

‘You are not’ you said shyly after taking in a deep breath.

‘Me?’ he asked after taking a deep breath while his blue eyes looked at you, full of questions.

Your heart was pounding, your hand shaking again. There was no turning back now.

‘Yes, you’ you said nervously, looking at him almost fearful about his response.

He drew another deep breath while, in his mind, he was thinking about what to say.

‘Y/N, I feel humbled and it’s not that you aren’t a beautiful and smart woman, but I am more than twice your age’ he said.

‘Ignore the age difference for a minute and tell me that you don’t feel the same, that you don’t want me’ you said.

‘It is irrelevant what I feel and what I want, it still doesn’t make it right’ he responded.

‘But, are you attracted to me? It’s a simple question’ you asked nervously and, after drawing another deep breath, Cillian responded.

‘I’ve been trying very hard not to be...unsuccessfully so’ he sighed, causing you to smile.

‘Alright’ you said with the biggest grin on your face.

‘Alright?’ Cillian asked surprised by your response. This didn’t mean that he was going to give into you just like this and ignore his concerns, or did it?

‘So, what do you propose we do now? This will make things very awkward on set’ he said concerned.  

‘This’ you said as you leaned in and pressed your lips onto his. His lips were just as soft as the last time you kissed on set, but this time there was an intensity and urgency between you.

He gave into the kiss as if there had never been any doubt and, unlike previous kisses you shared in a professional capacity, this time, when his lips parted, you could feel his tongue slip in between your lips and it wasn’t long until your tongues moved in sync with each other.

The kiss lasted for what felt like an eternity and you wanted so much more than taste his lips.

‘This is wrong Y/N’ Cillian said as your lips finally drifted apart.

‘Do you want me to leave?’ you asked, caressing his face, staring at all of the freckles which covered him.

‘No’ he said, earning him a smile from you just as he reached beneath your shirt and pressed his lips back onto yours.

His warm hands ran over the sides of your abdomen, up and down, until he lifted your t-shirt over your head.

It wasn’t that he hadn’t seen you like this before, but it felt different. His eyes didn’t have to shy away from your breasts and the rest of your body this time.

With his hands cupping your breasts, which were still covered by your black lace bra, the kiss intensified. It became more urgent and more passionate.

Your hands soon found their way beneath Cillian’s t-shirt also and, this time, touching his skin didn’t feel awkward or inappropriate.

Within seconds, his t-shirt landed on the floor next to yours just before Cillian’s fingers had found the clip of your bra.

It didn’t take his skilled fingers long to unclip it and let it join the rest of the clothes which you had already gotten rid of.

He took a moment to look at your breasts, right there in front of him yet again.

‘What’s wrong?’ you asked concerned as you noticed him stare at them.

‘Nothing, just taking in the beautiful view without feeling guilty about it’ Cillian smirked.

‘You checked out my breasts when we were filming, didn’t you?’ you said sheepishly.

‘Of course not’ he said with a laugh before he guided you backwards and down onto your bed.

You both were quick to remove your jeans and, moments later, there you were again, on the bed together wearing nothing but underpants. Just this time, there were no cameras. You were free to touch and kiss each other the way you pleased. It didn’t feel awkward. To the contrary. It felt right.

Hoovering over you again Cillian began to gently kiss your neck while one of his hands ran over your firm breasts. Finally, he was able to touch them, feel every inch of them.

Cillian soon worked his way to the lobe of your ear, playing with it using his tongue. Lightly sucking on it as his hand moved to your other breast, squeezing your nipple gently.

You didn't want this to end, and with a soft moan, you signaled Cillian to continue exploring your body. And so he did. You had never been with a man before, but in the moment, this felt comfortable, felt right.

As he continued to cast his spell on you and work his magic, your body responded. Your lace panties were soaking and your muscles began to vibrate with an unfamiliar feeling.

As Cillian’s lips moved back to your mouth for another passionate kiss, one of his hands wandered further down your body. But he was in no hurry, taking his time explore all of your body.

Cillian’s tongue began to gently drift between your lips and you responded with yours. Your arms wrapped around him, pulling him even closer to you as his hand reached the top of your lace panties.

Pushing your panties aside slightly, he ran his fingers over your wet entrance, slowly and gently while his lips never left yours.

You moaned into the kiss just as the tip of one of his fingers dipped into you slightly.

You took in a deep breath and broke the kiss for a brief moment.

‘Cillian, I never had sex with anyone’ you said, causing him to remove his hand from your wet mound.

‘It’s alright. We won’t go that far until you are ready’ he said reassuringly.

‘That’s so embarrassing, I am sorry’ you said.

‘What is?’ Cillian asked, slightly confused.

‘I am 20, it’s weird don’t you think?’ you said shyly, your face flushed.

‘Don’t be silly Y/N. There is no rush’ Cillian said as he ran his hand over your cheek. ‘If it is any consolation to you, I didn’t expect any of this, tonight, with you and I am enjoying every moment of it even if we don’t have sex’ he added.

‘So am I Cillian’ you smiled.

‘Good’ Cillian said before kissing you again gently.

The kiss soon became heated again but Cillian wasn’t taking it further, giving you the chance to set the pace at which you were willing to move.

But, you enjoyed him playing with you, teasing your most intimate parts and, after several more minutes of passionate kisses, you guided his hand back in between your legs.

Your actions earned you a chuckle from him as his lips moved from your lips down to your breasts slowly.

As Cillian was gently trailing kisses over your breasts, your hand made it’s way in between your bodies where it found the elastic of his Calvin Klein briefs.

Cillian moaned briefly against your breasts as you slipped your hand beneath the elastic, gently taking hold of his erection.

His cock was warm and firm and his tip slightly lubricated from the precum that had pooled there.

You moved your hand up and down his shaft, stroking him gently while his fingers began to circle over your clit, making you moan loudly.

Your panties were getting wetter and wetter with each stroke of his fingers and you were grinding against his hand, wanting more.

You were panting and moaning in pleasure as he kept stimulating you with his fingers, until, all of a sudden, me removed his hand making you squirm in protest.

His mouth soon wandered from your breasts down to your stomach, forcing you to let go of his hard cock.

But, as your body responded beneath his, your mind couldn't catch up to the events unfolding between the two of you.

You surrendered and let him take control and it wasn’t long until his lips had reached the top of your panties.

‘Oh god’ you moaned in anticipation just as Cillian took hold of both sides of your panties before slipping them down.

‘Do you want me to stop?’ he asked, unsure about your reaction.

‘No, please don’t’ you said, your hands falling onto the top of your head.

Admiring the view, Cillian let his fingers run up and down your slit slowly and gently, taking the juices leaking from it and spreading them up to the hood over your clit.

You moaned loudly at the sensation as, suddenly, you could feel Cillian’s tongue join his fingers, playfully darting closer to your opening, but not quite getting there.

‘Cillian, fuck’ you moaned as energy was coursing through your body, wanting to release, but not quite getting there. He apparently had received a masters degree in how to play your body.

Suddenly his tongue was there, licking up the sides of each of your lips. Inspecting the crevices.

Your head began to thrash, your hands flew out and grabbed the bedding.

‘Let me know if I hurt you’ was the next thing you heard but didn’t pay much attention to as you felt one of his fingers enter you.

With the mildest of discomfort, you arched your back while moan after moan left your mouth.

For several minutes, his finger went in and out of you gently while his tongue was licking you, circling over your clit.

He wasn’t sure whether or not to add another finger, but he decided to try his luck after reminding you to tell him if he hurts you in any way.

Moments later, he inserted a second finger while continuing to circle your clit with his tongue.

‘Oh fuck’ you moaned. There was a slight discomfort but it didn’t last very long before you felt nothing but pure pleasure.

Cillian’s fingers began rubbing inside of you as he placed his mouth around the hood of your clit and began to suck.

‘Holy Shit Cillian’ you moaned. You could feel him smile against your mound.

You began to squirm but he would not let up and your body began its final ascent.

Waves of electricity were crashing through you and your hips were grinding and bucking under his direct tutelage as your orgasm washed over you.

You were a shaking mess by the time he was done and, when you finally came down from your high, Cillian moved up and gave you a passionate kiss.

You could taste your juices on his lips and it was possibly the most erotic moment you had ever experienced.

‘Your turn’ you smirked before pushing Cillian onto his back against the stash of pillows.

You comment caused Cillian to chuckle just before you leaned over him to kiss him.

‘You know you don’t have to Y/N. There is no rush’ he said, running his hand over your cheek as your lips drifted apart.

‘But I want to’ you said with determination. ‘I might just need a little guidance’ you said shyly before descending down on his body, trailing gentle kisses over his chest and all the way down to his stomach.

You adored his body, it was perfect. He was the most attractive man you ever met.

As you were gently kissing his stomach, your hands moved beneath the rim of his briefs before pulling them down.

His erection sprung up almost instantly as soon as the briefs cam down and you couldn’t help but stare at him for a moment.

‘I think I will just go for it and you tell me if I do something wrong’ you said with a smile as you pinned back your hair into a bun with the hairband that was wrapped around your wrist.

Your comment made Cillian laugh for a moment until he could feel your warm lips on the tip of his cock, at which point the word ‘fuck’ was all that left his mouth.

Moans soon began to escape him as you used your hands to stroke him, up and down, while the head of his cock lolled uneasily on the top of your tongue.

You took him deeper into your mouth with every stroke and, as the third inch made its way into your mouth, your lips were being stretched.

You soon managed to take him in all the way, although it was a struggle.

‘Fuck, Y/N’ Cillian moaned as his length disappeared in your mouth.

His comment made you stop and ask whether something was wrong.

‘No, you are doing it perfectly’ Cillian reassured you just before you returned your attention to his very hard cock.

By this time precum had pooled on the tip as you took him back into your mouth. It tasted sweet but yet salty at the same time.

Your tongue began circling around him and then up and down his shaft before returning to the bopping motions.

Cillian leaned back and relaxed as you improved your technique minute by minute.

Each stroke of your tongue was now driving him crazy.

Looking up at him occasionally, you could see that he was enjoying whatever you were doing.

Your tongue was moving like a snake, coating every inch of his velvety soft, yet hard cock with a fine patina of sweet, warm saliva.

It wasn’t long until you could feel Cillian’s cock throb inside your mouth and his breathing was becoming laboured.

His hand was tangled up inside your hair as you continued to bop your head up and down firmly.

‘Y/N, I am close, you might want to stop’ Cillian said, trying hard to hold back.

‘Come in my mouth’ you said confidently before you continued your movements.

Your comment caught Cillian by surprise but he didn’t dare to argue and let go.

Just as your mouth bopped down on his hard shaft again, you could feel him pulsate inside your mouth and, with one loud groan, his warm cum spurted on the back of your tongue.

You continued to bop your head and collect all of his cum until he began to relax.

‘Did you just?’ Cillian asked, and before he could finish his question, you interrupted.

‘Swallow? Yes, what else do you normally do with it?’ you asked with a smirk.

‘I hate sleeping on dirty sheets and I was planning to stay the night, so that seemed like the best option’ you laughed before laid beside Cillian, his arms gently wrapping around you.

‘Hey, I am not complaining’ he laughed as he ran his hands gently over your arms.

‘Didn’t think so’ you said before kissing him again gently.

You fell asleep pretty soon afterwards, curled up against Cillian’s chest.

You both slept well and deep until, at 6am, Cillian’s alarm went off.

‘Oh goddam, what’s the time?’ you asked.

‘6am, why?’ Cillian said as you jumped out of the bed and collected your clothes, trying to put them on as quickly as you can.

‘Y/N, we don’t have a scene until 7am. There is plenty of time’ he said.

‘Yes, but Emma starts at 6.30am. She will notice me not being there’ you explained.

[cowboy-turtle]

Show Me

Part 9 of the La Parca series

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!Reader

Words: 6.8k

Tags: Smut: semi-public sex, unprotected piv, oral (f receiving), disrespect of business clothes (lol), tie-yoinking (!!!); food mention; alcohol; brief mention of a minor character death

A/N: Happy holidays everyone! Here's another part I've had percolating for a while, there's nothing I want to do more when I see Javi in a suit than to yoink his tie in for a kiss. This entire chapter is based off that desire 😌 hope you enjoy!

Previous Part | Masterlist | Next Part

gif by @nicolethered

It happens late one evening. You’re about to call it at night, clicking the last desk lamp off in the study lounge when you’re called into an office instead. Your advisor ushers you to take a seat.

“The committee just ended their meeting,” she tells you and you freeze, unable to sink down into the awaiting armchair.

“And?”

“You’re not supposed to find out until tomorrow but,” she tries to hide a smile, “congratulations.”

You don’t believe her, not at first. She tells you you’ll get the official acceptance letter and all of the corresponding paperwork tomorrow. The work will begin then, along with all the doors you can already feel opening for you, a future uncharted in its potential now. But for tonight, your professor advises, just enjoy the excitement.

“And one more thing,” she adds when you head for the door. “A few of us have been invited to speak with the education board in Bogotá.”

She can’t help the pride that colors her voice. “The committee chair thinks it would be good for you to join us. And I agree.”

You could honestly pull her up into a hug right now but opt instead for an exuberant confirmation, hastily scrawling this Thursday morning’s train platform number to meet them for the departing journey. It’s the first thing you can’t wait to tell Javi when you’re practically bounding up the steps to your apartment. Can you believe it! your insides scream. Me! I did it!

Not even Trujillo’s tired voice could deter your joyfully overflowing words.

“Can I speak to Ja–Agent Peña?”

“He is unavailable.”

“Okay, when will he be available?”

“He is away on business for the remainder of the week.”

That stops you for only a moment. “Do you know where?”

Trujillo’s sigh crackles across the call. “That’s classified, but I’ll let him know you called when he returns.”

That’s good enough for you, wishing him a good night and running to try and compile the best business outfit from the depths of your closet. You’re at the train station at 08:00AM sharp to meet the rest of the group; the committee chair, your advisor, and another professor quickly greet you before introducing you to the two other students who will be joining you as well. You’re nervously excited at the prospect of hopefully making friends with them, filing into the train after them to their animated whispers.

It’s nice, then, how easily you slip into a rapport with everyone. As the conductor announces your imminent arrival into Bogotá, the conversation switches into the purpose of your visit and what key issues were to be discussed, the mood jovial as everyone agrees easily with which points of topic were most important. It was nice to exist for a moment in this in-between space of the cramped cabin car, to remember that the world kept turning in spite of the pace of violence you were reminded of every time you opened a newspaper.

That feeling stutters slightly in your meeting with the education board, discussing in so many words why more help was needed for children who were at risk of being recruited. Recruited into what you were careful to avoid by name, in case any on the board were sympathetic to the opposing party.

But it all ends well, the lead committee members clapping each other on the back as you make your way to the rented van. They’re buzzing with good energy as they ease into the dance of the capital’s traffic, weaving past speeding motorbikes and hoards of pedestrians on lunch break. You guess that’s why the committee chair is talking animatedly into the portable phone attached to his briefcase, yelling to the driver a moment later to turn around.

“Please,” he insists. “We have another stop!”

The driver squints at him in the rearview mirror, but starts circling the wheel towards the left-turn lane at his request. He passes a paper up to the front with the new address and then announces, “I just heard that we have thirty minutes with the American ambassador.”

He pauses for the various reactions. “The board put in a good word for us, and he wants to meet for a photo op.” He smiles at you then, nodding towards the other students seated to your right. “He’d like to welcome the scholars that will be visiting America next year.”

The group disintegrates into hushed, excited chatter and you lean forwards to address the back of your professor’s headrest.

“Why is this more exciting than meeting the education board? It’s just for a photo.”

She turns towards you and inclines her head towards the man who just spoke. “He sees this as an opportunity to really speak about our issues and concerns.”

You dart a skeptic glance away. “He wants to do that in thirty minutes?”

“I think it’s worth a shot,” she looks at you then. “If they can funnel money and resources into extraditing our youth into their prisons, maybe they can extend some of it to make sure they don’t wind up in those situations in the first place.”

You have to give her that, nodding your head and keeping quiet for the rest of the ride and up the foreboding polished steps of the U.S. embassy.

As your group is being led down the halls to your conference room, double doors in front of you burst open to the sound of hurried footsteps. Two men in business suits emerge in the middle of conversation, speaking rapid-fire English to each other as they near your group. The blonde man you vaguely recall in the back of your mind, but his companion in a navy suit makes your feet lurch into a stumbled recognition.

“Cut the bullshit, Murphy.”

“I’m serious.” This ‘Murphy’ taps the manila folder in his hand against his companion’s chest for emphasis. “They think it’s the biggest safehouse bust we’ve hit this entire year. I can already hear Messina buying us a bottle.”

They reach their crossroads with your group and you can’t stop staring, admiring the proud smile he’s sharing with the floor. If you had any doubt this was him, this closer look all but proves it, the top button of his dress shirt undone even underneath his tie. His pace slows just as yours does, glancing over your shoulder as he almost comes to a stop.

“Where in the hell did you even get this intel?” An oblivious Murphy asks his partner who is no longer in stride with him.

Javier turns around, his unbelieving eyes sparking intrigue into yours. He gives you a once-over then stops, slowly crawling up your conventional heels and pantyhose, taking in the tight curves of your pencil skirt and blouse that’s open enough to show a peek of cleavage, before glancing back up to your face. His eyes darken, thumb brushing against his puckered lower lip and it’s tragic how quickly you could combust from that one look.

“Jav?” Murphy’s reached the end of the corridor, looking towards the enraptured man who takes a step backwards, slowly departing from you.

“I have a little bird,” he responds, smiling at you before turning to catch up to a barely concealed snort.

“Well, they’re one hell of a C.I.”

Before you can watch him leave in hopes of one more glance, your name is called from inside the conference room and you have to rush in, ready for the next serendipitous moment.

After a quick volley of introductions, though, Ambassador Crosby proves to only be a caricature of the smarmy American politician you’ve only seen in cartoons, spewing empty oaths and skin-deep promises. The practiced lines fall easily from his mouth with an insincere sincerity.

“When we say no child left behind, we don’t just mean in America,” he announces with an artificial smile between flashbulbs of the camera. “We want to help raise all the children in the world to become upstanding citizens.”

You and your advisor exchange a glance. She angles herself towards the ambassador.

“Right,” she begins. “So—”

“And the children of Colombia,” he blows out a breath, looking to her, “could really use our help most of all.”

She’s momentarily too stunned to speak, appalled mouth half-open, so he continues.

“I mean, I don’t know if any of you can even imagine the type of violence that happens on your streets. But that’s why we’re here, to help clean up the mess.”

With that, he pats the back of the person to his left, giving a thumbs up to the photographer as he starts departing for the door.

“Now if you’ll excuse me,” he says with thinly veiled relief, “I have a busy afternoon.”

“Wait, sir,” the urgency in the chairman’s voice stills the ambassador as he looks back, the rest of your group looking to him as well. “That’s actually why some of us are here.” His eyes meet yours and a ripple of panic sets in.

“Go on,” he urges, “tell him what happened to your brother.”

In that one moment, it feels like the air’s socked out of your lungs in a gut punch. The idea that the personal information you shared in your interview would stay confidential suddenly felt naive, the airy high-ceilinged room claustrophobic as everyone awaits your response.

Especially the ambassador, who’s now fully turned away from the door to stare at you. “What happened?” he coaxes with a slightly impatient tone.

You search for an out, flickering across the faces of the others as fingernails dig into the clammy palms of your hands. But no one comes to your aid, not even the apologetic frown of your professor barely visible over the resolute stare of the chairman growing colder with each second of your silence.

The ambassador is about to leave when your mouth shoots open.

“Well,” you attempt to harden your voice, but it comes out like a warble. “My brother…was very young when he became involved with narcos. My parents didn’t know…but he did it to help support the family.”

You swallow thickly around the lump in your throat, dulled from the years you hadn’t talked about him but clawing up now with a vengeance. “His recruiter thought he was trading information with their rivals for more cash, so…”

“They killed him,” the ambassador finishes for you.

“Yes.”

The admission hangs heavy for a moment, then–

“I’m sorry for your loss,” his disingenuous voice offers, “Do you know who did it?”

“I think I do.” You look back over at your advisor, steering this unwanted trip down memory lane back into present day. “That’s why I decided to go into social work. So that kids like him don’t feel helpless enough to resort to that.”

The ambassador nods thoughtfully, then motions to the meeting table. “Why don’t we discuss how we can help? I think I have a few minutes.” He looks to his aide for a quick nod then sits at the head of the table, already engrossed as the chairman launches into a rehearsed routine. Your advisor squeezes the meat of your arm when you sit beside her.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispers, “I had no idea he’d—”

“It’s fine.” You glance away from her and towards the other end of the table, where the two other students are whispering together, heads bent until they catch your stare and avert their eyes. They choose not to talk to you when you file out of the conference room together.

The burn of rejection brands deep into your chest, already feeling like you’ve been outcasted before you were given a chance. To think you were wanted here purely based on merit, on the potential of where your future could go and not just from how your past connected to it, made you realize how foolish your wide-eyed optimism was. It didn’t matter if the rest of the world saw people like the chairman and the ambassador as the good guys, they were still going to use you to get what they wanted.

You can’t wait to throw in the towel, not talk to anyone else on the train ride home. That is, until you remember the other chance encounter you had today.

You only have to wait a few moments for the embassy operator to patch your call to him.

“So I’m your little bird, huh?” you smile into the pay phone when he answers.

“Cariño,” Javier murmurs into his receiver. “Are you going to tell me what you were doing in the embassy today?”

You’re calling him from the back hallway of a small restaurant, the rest of the team getting a late afternoon coffee before the train departs.

“It was a part of the research fellowship.” Your newfound shame battles with the excitement still lingering beneath. “I, um, I got it.”

His smile can be felt through the telephone line. “Of course you did, they’d be idiots not to pick you.” You look down to hide the delight creeping on your face, shifting your weight to one heeled foot.

“We should celebrate,” he continues.

“Yeah,” you agree, though you wonder when that might even be, “I’d like that.”

A brief silence falls over the line, but you can just barely gather his quiet breathing to let you know he’s here. He’s with you.

I missed you, you want to whisper, quiet enough that maybe he won’t hear but just enough for it to leave your chest.

“I felt so out of place,” you admit instead. The arch of your foot pangs in agreement after wearing painful heels all day. “I never get dressed up like this.”

“No, you looked…” a short breath, then a lowered voice, “you looked good, cariño.”

Your stomach does a little flip at the slight groan behind his words.

“You didn’t look too shabby yourself, Peña.”

His laugh is interrupted by the automated voice signalling you have thirty seconds left on the call unless more change is added.

“Are you still in Bogotá?” Javier asks suddenly.

“Yes,” you glance at the others around the table. “Our train leaves in an hour.”

“Stay. I’ll take you back.”

“What?”

“Stay for dinner. Can you meet me back at the embassy?”

“I…” you laugh in disbelief. “Sure. Yes, okay.”

“Great. I want you to—”

The rest of his sentence is cut off, a triple toned beep to signal the end of the call before it’s a dead line. But you hang the phone back up smiling, stepping away to alert the group you won’t be leaving with them after all.

When you finally make your way back up those polished steps from before, a majority of the workforce has already left for the day. A night security guard escorts you to a lone receptionist, who takes you to a long, narrow office at the end of a quiet hall. She asks if you need anything before she heads out, but you’re content perusing the space Javier occupies while you wait for him. The bookshelves are bare of any personal trinkets or photographs, the low-lit small room having as much personality as if inhabited by a ghost. The only indicators of his existence here are the crystal decanter set of amber liquid between two beige armchairs, and a lone picture frame underneath his desk lamp.

You sink into his desk chair, leather squeaking under your skirt as you lean for a closer look. It’s a simple black-and-white photo of a young couple standing on a porch with arms around each other’s waists, the woman’s other hand reaching down to hold the pudgy fist of a toddler who’s squinting at the camera from beneath his bowl-cut fringe. Neat handwriting in the bottom right corner inscribes the scene as “Laredo - 1960”. The little boy must be Javier, you realize, though it’s weird to imagine what he must’ve been like as a small child. You wonder what his voice sounded like back then.

“Making yourself comfortable?”

The gravelly, smoke-tinged lull from the doorway is at odds with the cherubic face peering at you. You look up, abandoning this glimpse into his past to appreciate the vision of him now before you. He’s discarded his suit jacket, tie hung loose on his neck and shirtsleeves rolled to the elbow, showing enough of his golden skin for you to enjoy as he brings the last of his spent cigarette between his upturned lips.

“Agent Peña,” you greet him with a nod. The last of his smokey exhale stutters out in a chuckle as he nears, snuffing the remains in an ashtray along the way.

“Candy,” he addresses you. He braces his hands against the edge of the desk, leaning down to brazenly crawl his eyes up your body. You shake your head at how unashamed he is, but a shiver still runs up your spine as a smirk quirks a dimple into his cheek. “So nice to see you again.”

“Nice to see you too.” You tilt your head up in invitation and his lips connect to yours in an instant, a small sigh escaping from your mouth when he pulls away.

“I heard you met with the ambassador,” he says, gaze drawing up from your lips to your eyes. “How did it go?”

You look away before he can catch your grimace and his brows draw together.

“What’s wrong?” he presses, hand skimming over yours.

“It’s just…” Where to even begin? “He didn’t actually listen to us, we were just charity cases to him.”

“I’m sorry.” Javi’s soft, genuine voice tells you he means it. “The guy’s a shithead, he’s a politician. Don’t let him get to you.”

If only it were that easy. The small tremble in your lip betrays you and Javier abandons his post against the desk’s edge, opting to plant a knee on the ground to get eye-level with you. He squeezes your wrist for attention.

“Cariño,” he whispers until you look at him. “Trust me, you don’t need saving.”

His words quiet the storm enough for you to huff a short breath. “No, I don’t.”

He brings your hand up to brush his lips against your knuckles as you shake your head. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Okay,” he attempts again, “then tell me what you need.”

“I just, I don’t know,” you sigh. “I just need to forget, I need to stop thinking. I need–”

“A distraction?”

You swallow. “Yeah.”

“I can do that for you.”

His eyes dip back down for a moment, but when he reaches forward it’s only to grab the folder sitting atop his desk.

“Just let me drop this off first,” he murmurs, “I’ll be right back.”

You nod slowly and stand as he does, watching as he hustles out of the room once more. A sip of something to numb today sounds nice, a small pour into one of his glasses busying your hands and quieting the static in your brain when you take the first gulp. You’re almost finished when he returns, the hand reaching up for his jacket on the coat rack stalling before it goes for the doorknob instead. The soft click of the lock echoes louder in the quiet room before he’s reaching for the remains of your drink you offer to him, finishing it with a tip of his wrist while you squint at him playfully.

“I thought we were leaving?” you ask when he sets the glass down beside you, smoothing his hands up your waist as he crowds you against the desk.

“We will,” he promises quietly, “just let me look at you first.”

You roll your eyes but it doesn’t stop the heat that’s creeping up your chest in time with his hands exploring the curves of your body.

“How could anyone pay attention when you looked like this, cariño?” he groans, gripping the front of your skirt and tugging you towards him. You swallow a gasp at the evidence of his arousal hardening against your thigh. He ducks his head to your neck, lips brushing your hot skin. “All I could think about today was you.”

“Yeah?” is all you can breathlessly manage as his kisses press up towards your jaw.

“Of course,” his breath fans across the shell of your ear. “You look sexy like this.”

Your eyes flutter close as his teeth graze against your earlobe and tug gently.

“T-thanks,” you aim to move closer but your feet protest, visibly wincing as you shift your weight. “These heels are killing me though.”

“Oh?” You can feel Javier’s devilish smile as his hands rub over the swell of your ass across the tight fabric of your skirt, stopping at the top of your thighs. “I can fix that.”

He hoists you up onto his desk, your sudden gasp quieted by his chuckle as he steps between the shallow opening of your legs the tight confines of your skirt allow. His fingers slip down the smooth sheen of your nylons, bringing your knee up for him to reach the hard plastic of your high heel. He eases it off, clattering it to the ground before he makes quick work for the other shoe to drop.

This does little to deter the onslaught of his hands rubbing up your legs, teasing your pantyhose against your fevered skin. You can feel the reaction to his touch pooling at your center, and with a sharp breath he brushes a knuckle against it.

“Cariño,” he tuts, pressing in harder, “you’re already ruining these, they’re soaked through.”

“Hm,” is all you can shudder out when his thumb replaces his knuckle, rubbing against your clit. You take a hesitant breath. “Guess I have to get rid of them.”

His hand retreats just enough for a noise of disapproval to sigh out of you, canting your hips for more. He edges to your inner thigh instead, rubbing the sheer fabric of your stockings between the pads of his thumb and forefinger.

“You don’t need these?” he asks.

You give him a questioning look. “I guess not…?”

You jolt when his hands suddenly grip the material on either side of your pussy, the fabric protesting until he yanks down and apart, ripping them at the seams. He steals your gasp in a quick, consuming kiss.

“Good.”

He tugs the ruins of your hosiery away from the apex of your legs, drawing his hand back inwards when a sharp inhale is sucked through his nose.

“You’re not wearing any underwear?” he growls, his other hand gripping the soft give of your thigh.

“N-no,” you whimper. “Couldn’t wear them without it showing in the skirt.”

He groans, large hand cupping your cunt to press against your slick folds, just enough to make you impulsively grind into the heel of his palm. You can feel his grin on your slackening jaw when you tense around his teasing finger edging you.

“Is this what you need?” he asks and you let out a pitiful whine, chasing his hand with a press forward of your hips when he moves away. You level your gaze with his dark eyes.

“Answer me, cariño.”

Your hand traces up his dress shirt, fingers circling his tie until they close around the fabric just under the knot. You watch his glance dip down to your mouth for just a moment before you’re yanking him forward by his tie, capturing his groan between your lips.

All resolve crumbles after that, his hands tugging your legs further apart to the ripping disapproval of your ruined tights. A finger slips inside you, then two, pushing and curling as he swallows your moans down his tongue licking inside your mouth. You’re fumbling for his belt when he pushes your hands away, gripping the front of your blouse to tug it from your skirt and hoist it over your breasts.

He bends, smothering his face in your chest for a moment to bite the swell of your breast before dropping to his knees, kisses descending down your stomach. You’re fumbling to help him heave your tight pencil skirt any higher, the bite of his impatient nips to your inner thighs trapped in the barrier of shredded nylon still clinging to your skin.

“Javi!” His name flows from your lips in an unknown beg – Javi not here, Javi please faster – but the next mention of his name catches in your throat when his velvet lips meet the soft plush of your exposed skin.

He groans, his grip digging into your inner knees as his tongue licks inside you, your head tipping back as he voices his desire into your cunt. The sound is obscene, his lips smacking as he presses in deeper, his prominent nose grinding your clit with every push and flick of his tongue. The feeling sparks pleasure up through your core, jittering through your trembling legs and making you grasp for the desk’s edge, other hand gripping the soft curls of his hair, mussing up the neat way he styled it for the office. He hums his approval at the way you pull lightly on his hair, guiding his mouth up until his wet lips suction around your clit.

You cry out, hips jutting forward and the vibrations of his response only intensify the feeling coiling deeper and tighter with each sloppy kiss and lick. A quick sound of irritation rumbles in his chest and his hands slide down under your thighs, a quick pull to the edge of the desk for him to dive further into you.

Your toes curl, knee jerking when his fingers push back inside, scissoring and curling and coaxing the jumbling whimpers of his name barely coherent over the sound of his tongue lapping at you. You peer down to see if you can even see him under the confines of your skirt, only to meet his blown-out pupils watching you as his jaw tenses and moves with each pass of his mouth.

It’s the way he moans into you, sucking your clit in between his lips just as his fingertips press into that perfect spot that has you seeing stars, tensing your body up until pleasure explodes in waves through your body. You shake as he works you through it, concentration only slowing as you squeeze the hair threaded through your fingers, whispering a quiet–

“Javi, please.”

He’s up in an instant, slick mouth appeasing your begging lips with desperate kisses as his hands work quickly on his belt. You can feel yourself dripping onto his desk as you tug him closer, closer, his dress pants finally slipping open as he lines himself up to you. He pulls you towards him and you groan in unison, the blunt head pressing into your entrance before his length slides into you in a single, sudden thrust. You clutch at his cheeks, his jaw, his neck when he starts moving, hot breath panting against each other with each push deeper. Everything feels tighter, the ruined seams of your stockings hardly holding together strong enough to fight the way Javier presses into you, until he grips both legs and wrenches them further apart with another satisfying rip of nylon. You cry out, louder this time, and he shushes you with his mouth covering your moans, the thrum of his desperation beating just under the skin barely concealed in the tightening grip of his hands on your thighs.

His tie is quickly flung over his shoulder, dress shirt bunched up to salvage it from the mess you’re now making at the base of him. The wet slap of him meeting you over and over fill the small room of his office, matching the tempo of your whimpers of oh–oh fuck Javi. The air is thick with the smell of your sex, the unforgiving pummel of his hips back and forth, back and forth knocking you further up the desk. He grips you tighter to him, practically hoisting you off the desk to meet the drive of his cock. His belt buckle smacks into the flesh of your ass with each thrust, but the scrape of pain is barely perceived with each yelp of pleasure falling from your lips.

A sweaty curl falls onto Javier’s forehead from his quickly-disheveling hair, matching the unraveling of your own composure as he starts fucking you harder. The creak of his ancient desk threatening to give out under you only adds to how much you’re desperately flirting with danger right now, the evening still early enough for a stray passerby to wander down the hall and hear you.

But that somehow only adds to the frenzied excitement, your bodies working in tandem intuitively, rocking your hips forward in time with his thrusts as you push each other closer to release.

“J-Javi,” you whimper, curling your hand into the nape of his neck.

“Tell me what you need.” The deep register of his voice sends a tremble up your spine. Your eyes cinch shut, a pant of breath barely escaping.

“I need…more.”

With that he reaches behind you and sweeps the contents of his desk, papers scattering to the floor as he pushes you down the cleared desktop. The curve of your neck almost hangs off the edge, threatening to push you even further with each punch of his cock. He tilts your pelvis just so, and with the next thrust his name wails out of your throat. His hand clamps down over your mouth, soft pleading sounds to keep quiet, baby, I know it’s—f-fuck, I know, I know, just like that as your whimpers are caught in the cup of his palm.

You angle your jaw and capture his thumb between your lips, sucking it into your mouth to the deep, guttural groan tumbling from the depth of his throat. He swirls it in time with your insistent tongue and pops it out, a string of saliva following it down as he brings it to press against the peak of your sex. His slick finger flicking across your clit bucks your hips up harder as Javier grips your knee for leverage, hoisting it up until it’s pressed to your chest and kept there by his steady grasp.

“Is this what you needed?” he pants into the crook of your neck, the slap slap slap of him meeting you over and over again just as loud as the moans you’re trying in vain to bite down. “Needed to be fucked so hard you forget your own name?”

A high whine pitches out of your throat, pressure building inside you again and he chuckles lowly.

“Yeah? What’s your fucking name then, baby girl?”

Your head tips back, voice gone no matter how much you pant and gasp and you need him, all of him, your hand snaking to the back of his slacks and squeezing him tighter to you. He’s caught off guard, a quick, stumbling grunt as he stutters inside you and you’re gone, orgasm washing over your body just as he comes undone. You feel the heavy, hot spurt of him deep inside you as you tense and convulse, something akin to a cry escaping your lips when he mouths at the curve of your neck, concealing his own loud, finishing response.

The office quiets to a standstill again, save for your panting breaths fighting for air as he presses his forehead to your shoulder. You card your fingers through his hair once more and he shifts up to look at you, a blissed out grin curving his mouth before he summons enough energy to move up and kiss you, wet mustache tickling against your upper lip. You share another quiet kiss, a thank you in your smile when you both jump at the trill of the phone at the corner of his desk.

Javier groans, easing out of you and leaning to answer it with a haggard expression.

“Peña.”

He says it with such a steeled composure, like he didn’t just fuck your brains out all over his desk, the scattered papers still settling on the carpet beneath you. You watch his face change at the drawl of quick, English words barking out through the receiver.

“Alright Murphy, I get it.” He gives you an exaggerated eye-roll before hanging up. “We’re late to dinner.”

Your tardiness doesn’t stop him from helping you get cleaned up, helping you out of your ripped pantyhose before disappearing to return with a pair of simple flats for you to try on.

“Colleen always keeps them in her drawer,” he explains. “Are they your size?”

You slide them onto your feet and thank whoever this Colleen is, the sensible shoes providing much needed support after wearing your heels all day. You’re impressed he’s noticed such a small action in what you assume is a normally busy office.

“Does anything get past you, Agent Peña?” you ask as he gathers his coat by the door. He gestures to the exit to let you go first, just for his hand to swat playfully at your ass when you pass.

“Only when I want it to,” he smirks, reaching into his coat pocket for a smoke.

Javier walks you to a nearby restaurant, the interior bustling with busy tables until he points out a lone, exasperated man sitting in the back corner.

“Sorry we’re late,” Javier says by means of explanation once you draw near to him. “Messina was on my ass to get that report in tonight.”

The blonde man briefly glances at your wrinkled skirt. “Right.”

Javier pulls a chair over for you, gesturing to the man who’s extending a hand. “This is Steve Murphy, my work partner. And this is—”

“Candy.” You finish for him, catching the look on Javier’s face before he takes his own seat. Though you shake Steve’s hand with a friendly smile, you’re unsure how many personal details you’re ready to share with him. Getting comfortable with one DEA agent was more than enough for you right now.

“Candy? As in the Candy?” Steve’s brows shoot into his hairline as he holds your handshake a moment longer before glancing at Javier. “So you’re the one he won’t shut up about?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Javier responds gruffly, but the glare he gives Steve is met with a shit-eating grin.

“Well, it’s so nice to finally meet you, Candy. How did you meet our Javier?”

You exchange a quick glance with Javier, trying to find the right words in English.

“We…like the same song.”

Javier barks out a laugh, failing to conceal it behind a cough as he signals the waiter. Steve peers between the two of you, unsure whether to believe you or not, but is quickly distracted when someone comes by to take your order.

Steve asks you easy questions throughout dinner, the drawl of his voice that of a practiced gentleman with only the hints of an interrogating agent around the edges. He seems comfortable in the presence of a woman, and it’s unsurprising to find his ring finger occupied. When you ask about his wife a warm smile crawls across his face, unbothered by the subtle eye roll from Javier when he starts talking about his marriage. He only deflates when he mentions she’s back in the States now, and you can only imagine how hard that distance might be in the way he sighs.

Javier goes to settle the check as Steve finishes the last of his drink, looking at you over the rim’s edge.

“So, music brought you two together?” he tries again and you shrug, smiling.

“Well, I like dancing.”

“Dancing?” Steve looks up at a returning Javier as he asks. “You ever take your girl dancing, Jav?”

You take Javier’s outstretched hand to help you out of your seat. “Just the kind you’re not good at, Murphy.” His wink is met with a quick middle finger as Steve follows you out on the street.

A slight shiver at the oncoming night’s chill is met with Javier’s jacket gracing your shoulders, a commotion the next street over causing the two agents to slow and listen. They look to one another before stepping towards the noise.

But when they round the corner, it’s not what they would usually suspect. Instead they’re surprised to find a makeshift street band set up on the sidewalk. They're playing in front of the colorful advertisements of a worn-down pharmacy, the neighborhood out on the street dancing and laughing. It feels like you’ve stumbled into a folkloric fairytale, the magic of their bright joy contagious in the bubble they’ve created amidst the stark architecture of the capital city. You watch with amusement on the outskirts of the growing crowd until Steve nudges into Javier, nodding towards the dancing couples.

“C’mon,” he urges, “dance with your lady.”

Javier sends you a questioning glance, and before the offer can even form you’re pulling him out on the street. You loop his arms around you with a laugh and he begrudgingly accepts with a lopsided smirk, muttering how he doesn’t dance. But you’re unsurprised to find him a good dancer with the way his hips move in time with yours, and you tease him as such, squeezing the ticklish spot in his side until he’s chuckling into a smile at you.

A camera shutters to your left and you turn to Steve just as the bulb flashes.

“Never thought I’d see this,” he explains as he cranks the camera roll to the next frame. Javier flips him off and guides you away from the laughing man towards the center of the makeshift dance area.

“Cariño,” Javier murmurs into your ear to grab your attention back towards him. “Do you have anywhere to be tomorrow?”

You shake your head and he pulls you closer to him, hand smoothing up your back.

“Stay the night,” he asks. “I have a place here.”

"Really?"

He nods and you seal his offering with a kiss, the crowd erupting around you in cheers at the energetic end of the song. The band bows and sets up for the next arrangement that you don’t stay to hear.

You step into the cool air of Javier’s government-issued apartment once he’s driven you there, taking in the decor you assume some poor secretary was assigned to pick haphazardly.

“So this is Casa de Peña,” you tease, laughing at the photos of two nondescript dogs you know he doesn’t own. “The pinnacle of a bachelor’s pad.”

Javier remains at the front entryway, leaning against the archway to watch you tour the room and get to know his personal space with a small smile. He pushes up when your eyes meet his, gesturing to the kitchen.

“Can I get you anything to drink?”

“What do you have?”

You hear the fridge clink open. “Water or…whiskey.” You laugh, accepting the latter with a clink of your glasses together before he’s reaching for you again.

“You’re insatiable,” you sigh, and yet you find yourself already playing with the top button of his loosened dress shirt.

“Well, what I wanted wasn’t here. Can you blame me?”

“No,” your eyes close as he finds that spot on your neck. “I guess not.”

He’s quiet, lips pressed to your throat. Then, quietly, an “I missed you,” is whispered into your skin, only brazen enough for this jolt of vulnerability now that he isn’t looking at you. You bring his face back up towards you, breathing together for a moment.

“Then show me,” you beg softly. “Show me how much you’ve missed me.”

He groans into a kiss, guiding you into a tour of his bedroom.

The next day, late into the morning when you could finally drag yourselves out of the shared warmth of his bed, you’re lounging in a small cafe together for breakfast. His eyes are scanning the local newspaper as you admire the weak sunlight across his face when his name is shouted from the entrance behind you. He looks up and grins immediately, jumping from your table to clap his hand enthusiastically into the waiting grasp of an approaching man, turning to introduce him to you as Colonel Horacio Carrillo, who’s joined by his trailing wife.

“You’re looking at the man that’s going to kill Escobar,” Javier says with a touch of pride, but Carrillo’s wife glances nervously at the declaration. Carrillo only pats him on the shoulder with a good-natured grin.

“That’s almost true,” he corrects. “We’re going to take him down together.”

He excuses you back to breakfast with the hope that he’ll see you again soon, and you look to Javier to find his attention back on you.

“Do you know how you’re getting back to Medellín?”

You shrug, swallowing another bite of your pastry. You assume you’ll take the train again, once you leave for the station to buy a ticket. Javier’s grin tells you otherwise.

“Have you ever ridden in a helicopter before?”

++

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[theonetheycallhannah]

The Treatment of Captain Syverson-Chapter 20: Second Assist

Characters: Captain Logan “Sy” Syverson, Shane Benton (OFC), various other original supporting/secondary characters

Summary: Shane reunites with friends and family, hashes out some feelings, and gets real with Sy. Can their relationship survive her trauma? And the threat that still looms above them?

Romance and Smut Abound HERE!

Word Count: 4500

Warnings: Mention of rape, alcoholic beverages, violent imagery…feels out the butt.

Author’s Note: You guys are so splendid and beautiful! I can’t thank you enough for your support and encouragement to finish this piece. First, welcome to new readers! I know poor Henry’s injury and subsequent physiotherapy has driven some of you here, and while I’m sorry for him, I’m glad I can consider myself something of a pioneer in this particular genre and provide you some help for your newfound thirst. To my OG readers, it is to you I owe this entire work, parts written and incomplete, and I hope an eventual book deal. I mean to mention you in my acknowledgements, should this ever reach a willing publisher. You’ve inspired me so supremely that I cannot quantify it, even with the words I hold so dear.

Since my last chapter was posted, we’ve said a relieved goodbye to 2020 and a tentative hello to 2021. To be honest, this year has started out worse than last year. Lots of bad weather in my area this winter, my sister is currently on her way to a new life in another state, and my grandmother, the last grandparent I had, passed away in February. Those last two things have been especially difficult to shake off and recover from, both coming to fruition pretty suddenly. Amongst all that, I’ve been pretty distracted by my other fandoms, especially Marvel, and I’ve been reading a killer book series that I’m utterly in love with. (The Throne of Glass novels by Sarah J. Maas. 10/10 recommend.) But I knew I needed to get back into Shane and Sy’s story, especially given the new and rekindled interest in the subject matter. In all honesty, I’ve had most of it written for months. It’s just been a matter of finishing it off to set up the rest of the story.

I really hope you all enjoy Chapter 20, Second Assist, and would love your feedback and notes. You are all so important to this story, and your notes, reblogs, and comments are cherished. Thank you so much for reading! Love from Hannah!

Disclaimer: Unfortunately for me, Henry is not mine, le sigh, and all mention of him, his characters, any characters from his films, or his precious doggy, Kal, are strictly for transformative and recreational use. I neither ask for, nor accept payment for the work I post on Tumblr or AO3. Unbeta’d because this is for fun and escapism. This is an original work by me, Hannah. Please reblog if you wish to share. Please do not repost either in whole or part, as the work of anyone but myself. Thanks so much for reading!

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If you want to be notified when I post a new chapter or work, I’ll be happy to add you to my tag list! Stricken blogs are getting personal messages from me when a new chapter is uploaded because Tumblr’s faulty tagging system will not stand in the way of me delivering what the people want!(?) lol! (Although…their lackadaisical notification system might…sorry for that. I have no control. lol!)

X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@

Shane woke in her warm bed, late morning sun streaming in through her sheer curtains, the heavier drapes parted to let in the light. She wished she'd remembered to close them before now. She really was not ready to be awake.

She was sore. Achy. Her sleep had been fitful and full of shadowy nightmares and muffled screams. Beyond that, she didn't try to remember images or events. She knew the general premise of the dreams. It would take a lot of time, effort, or a miracle to make her forget those traumas she'd been through in the last week. Not even forget. She knew she never would. But move on from them. Accept them. And heal from them…even that seemed a mighty obstacle. One she was not sure she could surmount.

Through the open bedroom door, she could hear Lynyrd Skynyrd and the clanging and sizzling of pans, and she could smell bacon and freshly brewed coffee. Sy had left the room, but had not, it seemed, gone far. She gingerly sat up, stood from the bed, and donned her robe as she walked out into the hall and down the corridor to the kitchen.

The sight before her warmed her heart. There was Sy. In only his boxers, daringly frying the notoriously dangerous breakfast meat. Upon her entry to the kitchen, she could also smell pancakes, and she thought syrup, as well. He seemed to be warming a bottle of the maple unction in a pot of hot water. He turned as she stepped on a squeaky floorboard, and grinned widely at her.

"Mornin' sunshine." And she was struck by the irony of someone with such a radiant smile calling her sunshine. Especially when she didn't feel much like beaming. But she couldn't help return the expression, even through her pain.

"Mornin' bear. Did you go to the store?" She knew she couldn't have any bacon in her fridge, and she doubted her eggs and milk were still good at this point. But she also couldn't think that he would leave her for any reason.

"Nah, some of the guys brought over some provisions. Matt worked on your car all night, too, and filled up the tank. It's as good as new. He and Nate brought ‘er over as well as the groceries. I just had ‘em get stuff I knew your family wouldn't be bringing later. They've had tons of food given to them this week, and they're ready to share. You should have seen your mom loading me down with sandwiches and chips and whatnot when I visited them."

"I still can't believe you met them. I really wanted to introduce you personally." Shane's face fell. She would never be able to get that back. She wanted to cry. Sy had poured her a cup of coffee and sat it in front of her with her favorite creamer.

"Darlin' I’m so sorry. I had to talk to them."

"I know." she sniffed. "I'm not mad. Not at you. Just…"she didn't want to say Elliott's name. "I'm disappointed that the experience was stolen from me." That so many things had been stolen from her. By that monster. There was no other way to describe him. Sy growled. As if he could read her mind. He really just knew her well enough and shared her thoughts.

"Well, don't worry, we'll have a nice dinner with them one of these days, and we can pretend. Sound good?"

"Yeah, and I can feign nervousness." she laughed.

"And I'll pretend too. That I'm scared to meet your dad." he chuckled. "What if he threatens me with his shotgun?"

"I'll pull the ol' 'Daddy, no, I loooooove him!' line, as I throw myself between you!"

"That oughta work." he laughed and kissed her on the forehead as he stepped toward the stove and flipped a pancake.

As they sat eating their late breakfast, Shane's mind wandered. Nothing had changed on the surface, but everything was different now. This cozily mundane breakfast with her boyfriend felt like an out of body experience. As delicious as it was, as wonderful and comforting as it should feel, her guard was up. Even through her amiable façade. She was not the person she was two weeks ago. She was not the same woman who said goodbye to Sy at the base. Maybe that was the real transformation. Maybe that was why nothing felt normal. It wasn't the world, but her own self coming back into it.

"Shane?" Sy asked, gently, but it felt like he was speaking through a megaphone directly into her ear. She was so startled, she nearly dropped the half full mug of coffee that was paused midway to her lips. A bit sloshed out onto the table and splashed her shirt.

"Shit!" she chided herself. It wasn't a big deal, but she felt stupid jumping at the sound of her own name.

Sy reached for the closest towel, hanging from the oven handle, grabbed it and started for her clothes with it. She stopped him. But she couldn't think about why the intimate act made her uncomfortable.

"No, don't, it's fine. These clothes have seen better days, anyway." She pulled the towel from him and began to mop up the small puddles of coffee around her plate.

Sy seemed to note the stains already present on the shirt, as if trying to divine their history. She was something of a messy eater, so the battle wounds of many a barbecue, spaghetti dinner, and hurried breakfast peppered the now off-white SATB club tee she'd gotten her second or third year in college choir. She thought back to a huge room with high ceilings. White, cinder block walls, flecked tile floors, a beautiful, glossy, black baby grand in front of a long whiteboard with black lines to resemble sheet music. She thought about the mnemonic device she'd learned to help her remember what notes appeared on each line, and in the spaces between them. She pondered the deeper meanings and implications of these devices. EGBDF…every good boy does fine. She thought about the "good boys" in her life. She knew many. Her dad, her brother Ethan, Sy, obviously, her many male coworkers and friends…and honestly they did far better than "fine." They were wonderful. But she was letting the "bad boys" she'd encountered dictate her mood. Permeate her psyche. Tear her down. She didn't want to be like this. Then FACE came to mind, and above their purpose of indicating the notes between the lines on the staff, they called her to action. To face these newly minted demons with all the strength she knew she possessed, and she too would "do fine." But as with almost all actions, this was easier said than done.

She felt a warm presence on her left hand which had paused it's torture of the now coffee-infused kitchen towel. Sy's hand was squeezing hers gently.

"Shane." he uttered, barely above a whisper this time. She looked at him through tears that she had not realized had formed. He continued.

"Shane, what can I do, darlin'? I'll do anything."

"Babe, you're doing everything you can, and more. This…this is all going to have to come from me. I…don't know when I'll be myself again…" she paused, tears streaming now. "I'm…I'm different."

"You're not though." he reached for her face, but she pulled away.

"I am, damn it! Sy, I was…" Words had power. And the one she was thinking of had more power than she thought was warranted. She knew that uttering it would take away it's power…and yet mustering the courage and strength to actually do so…seemed impossible. She took a deep breath, and disassociated herself from the statement, even though it was about her own past.

"I was raped." She refused to cry. She felt it all again. She had never said the words. She had never thought it necessary. Everyone understood. Sy, his friends, and she was sure her own loved ones had made the connection. But she knew she needed to say it now to drive home the points she was about to make.

Sy, looked at the table, nodding, not needing to be told in so many words something he already had surmised from the clear evidence. He remained silent. She went on.

"I love you, Sy. I have since the day we met, on one level or another, and I believe that I always will. But I…right now I can't be a proper girlfriend to you. I can't…be with you, touch you, be touched by you, in the way we used to be. In the way you deserve…and I don't know when…or even if…I ever will. Not that I don't want to. That's ALL I want in the world. To go back. To be the woman who fell in love with this…incredible man. To make love with you, but…I can't."

Sy's eyes were full of tears, their predecessors already descending his round cheeks and disappearing into his thick, dark beard.

"Sy, I don't want to lead you on and keep you tied to a relationship with no life in it. You deserve someone who's whole. Someone who can be a fully invested partner for you, and not this broken, damaged--"

"You stop that, Shane. I won't hear no more of this kinda talk. Y'hear? You're my girl. My woman. My person. No matter what. You gotta know I'd never leave ya just cuz you aren't ready for sex again. You don't think that I would, do ya?"

"Well, you went to Virginia…you took that job…knowing the distance it would put between us. Literally and figuratively."

"Biggest mistake of my life." Shane raised her eyebrows in surprise as Sy elaborated. "I couldn't focus on my classes without wishing you were there. Wishing I could team up with you for discussions and hand to hand combat training…that thought got me a little too excited, if you catch my drift." He smirked, pulling a sheepish smile from Shane. "Then in that forest. I dreamt about you every night. I thought of you constantly. I could barely breath sometimes, I missed ya so damned much. I was an idiot. I was insane to think that I needed anything other than you. Any MORE. There IS no more. You're it. You're the MOST! The most important thing in my life."

The declaration hung like vapors in the air, more felt than seen. Tangible yet ethereal.

"And when I found out that you were missing…I was…well, I think I looked like death…and not warmed over. You can ask the program director I met with after I got the news. She could tell I was just sick over it. And as I thought about it on the way home, pieced things together, started thinking about who'd taken you, I got murderous. Shane, I have been in dozens of battles, skirmishes, firefights, you name it. War. But…the sheer bloodlust I felt thinking about what you could be going through��I've never experienced anything like it. Everything was red. Everything. For days. Until I saw you, alive. And then it went red again when I saw the fear and damage on your face." she could tell he was doing his best not to talk about the farmhouse and that basement, but she still flashed back to the moments before and after his appearance there. The moments when she simultaneously prayed to live and hoped to die.

"You don't owe me anything, Shane. I just want you in my life, and I don't care what your presence looks like. Romantic, platonic, or somewhere in between. I'm here for you. And I wouldn't have it any other way."

Shane felt the urge to wrap her arms around her boyfriend, but could not seem to move more than one arm to place her other hand on top of his. She hoped the gratitude and love behind the small, but heartfelt gesture landed. It was all she had in that moment, no matter how abundant her affection.

~~~~~~~~~~

Shane's family's arrival was a complete blur to her. It was joyous, tearful, and the happiest she'd been in a long time. The moment she opened the front door for them, she was surrounded, engulfed with hugs from her parents and siblings. They stood in their affectionate huddle for several moments before Peg waved Sy over with marked insistence. He'd been standing by, observing happily, but not wanting to intrude on the familial reunion.

When they finally dispersed, John asked the two younger men to help him bring in groceries. The women headed into Shane's bedroom for a more private setting in which to talk. Shane filled her mother and sister in the best she could given the rawness of the wounds left on her mind by the events.

She leaned against the headboard cuddling with Gabby while her mom rubbed her feet. She had insisted on doing this thing that had always comforted her children, and made them feel much better when they were younger.

"Well, I'm very proud of you, pumpkin." The girls both looked at their mother, who rather uncharacteristically hadn't spoken in some time. Shane was nonplussed. Peg elaborated.

"You survived something that many women don't. You're talking about it now, which even more women don't. You may think you're broken, but you're just a tree damaged by a storm, but standing stronger than ever." Trust her mom to lay such wisdom on her. When she felt like giving up. When she just wanted pity. When she could only see defeat. Her mother had always found a way to encourage and buoy her and show her the victory.

"Mom's right." Gabby affirmed, and it was Peg's turn to be nonplussed, as the two women, though similar in so many ways, never seemed to see eye to eye. "It's true. Shane I've seen a lot of women come into the clinic in shoes very much like yours. And trust me…some of them…they don't make it to this point. You've got a long way to go before you're fully recovered, don't get me wrong, but you'll get there. You have us. And you have Sy."

"And then there's Sy." She diverted. "How am I supposed to plan any sort of future with him when…" She looked at her mom, and hesitated. Peg rolled her eyes.

"Shane, I know what the two of you get up to when you're alone. You don't have to be shy with me."

"Still…" she took a breath and spoke. "When I can't bring myself to…sleep with him?"

"Look at him, you're kidding, right?" Gabby chided, insensitively, but recanted at the pained expression on Shane's face. "Sorry, sis. Trying to lighten the mood a touch. Too soon. But seriously, I don't think this reluctance you feel will be permanent."

"And even if it is," Peg took over, "that man is out-of-his-mind in love with you, Shaney." She kissed Shane's toe before putting a sock on her foot. "He almost seems to worship you. Now, you know how I feel about using that term outside of religious context, but that is exactly the kind of love I want for you. Devout, and unconditional."

"But, mom, I can't--"

"Did you hear me? I said 'unconditional,' sweetie." Peg interrupted. "No matter what. No matter the obstacle. No matter the distance. No matter the circumstances. Love unwavering. That's what Sy has for you. I've seen it in him. Trust the momma."

The insistence her mother placed on trust had always ruffled Shane's feathers. Gabby's too, who she could feel stiffen slightly beside her. But Shane, for once, really wanted to trust her mother, hoping against hope that she was right. And that she, herself  wouldn't screw up the best relationship she had ever been in or was likely to ever be in again.

The girls had begun talking about some of the coworkers who'd brought food in the past week, and Peg couldn't resist remarking on the character of her favorites and judging the ones she didn't care for…oddly enough, getting more or less, the correct measure of them, as Shane saw it.

After what must have been an hour from the time they'd arrived, they heard a knock on the slightly ajar bedroom door. John poked his head in.

"Ladies, we've put a casserole in the oven, and completed various manly projects around the house--"

"Oh, daddy, what projects?" She cringed. She hated that the men had felt the need to "fix" things.

"Babe, your guest bathroom had not one, but two leaky faucets, your kitchen table seemed to be more of a teeter-totter, and half the light bulbs in the living room were out. Among other tiny things. You're welcome." he smirked his crooked smirk so similar to her own, and she returned it as if he was looking in a mirror.

"Thanks, dad."

"Anyway, lunch is almost ready. So, when you've finished your confab, let's eat."

Dinner passed amiably, Shane found a reserve within herself to allow some quasi-normal behavior, as long as you didn’t look too closely. She was talking animatedly with her siblings, making their parents and Sy laugh riotously. Shane noticed some odd looks passing between Sy and her father, but chalked it up to paranoia. She wished at least Gabby and Ethan could stay, but Heather would be over soon, and she deserved her own dedicated time. Shane wanted to give that to her.

She said her farewells to her family with promises to visit them the next day, and at least one more time before her siblings went back home, if she could work it out.

Sy was so wonderful the whole time. Standing by her, a hand resting lightly on her shoulder as they waved goodbye to the departing vehicle. He made her feel so safe. They went into the kitchen and cleaned up from lunch. Well, Sy cleaned. Shane was texting Heather about when she'd be over.

"Heather says she'll be here in about a half hour. She's picking up wine and pizza." Shane told Sy without looking up from her phone. She could see out of the corner of her eye, though, that he had just closed the dishwasher and was selecting a cycle.

"Sounds great. Do you want me to get out of here? Give you guys some time, one on one?" He asked as he dried his hands, wet from preparing dishes for the machine.

She thought about it, and shuddered. She played a scene in her head that startled her. In her mind's eye, she saw Sy leave and then moments later heard a knock on the door. Presuming it was Heather, she opened the door with abandon, only to see Elliott standing there under a flickering porch light, smirking maliciously at her and ready to overpower and abduct her again. She shook the thought from her head, but remained uneasy as she answered his question.

"Uh, no. Thanks. I'm sure she'll want to talk to both of us. She likes you." Shane grinned softly at Sy in an attempt to mask her trepidation over the thought of him leaving her alone for any period of time. She thought it had worked.

"Okay, well, whatever you think, sunshine. I don't wanna get in the way." He was wiping down the countertops. She felt so impossibly full of love for him, she was starting to wonder how she hadn't yet burst with it. She couldn't bear the thought of holding him back from a fulfilling relationship. He deserved everything she couldn't give him right now. And she knew she should make him leave her. Cut him loose. But she was, as she'd been since she'd met him, a weak woman. She couldn't stand the thought of being without him. Of him no longer being hers. And somehow worse, of not being his, herself. She would always need him for so many reasons, not least of which being her love for him. Maybe one day, she'd recover from this trauma, and be able to be who he deserved. To give him what he needed.

"You're never in the way, bear." She walked up behind him, wrapped her arms around his middle and squeezed him as tight as she could. He placed a loving hand over hers, sighing and smiling, though she had no visual proof of the latter. It was just a feeling.

Heather's greeting was no less exuberant than that of Shane's family, but it was more joyful and less emotional, even though she was immensely relieved to see her best friend after so long. They talked as if no time had passed, and Shane mustered up the dregs of her former self to have one more interaction for the day. Thank God it was Heather and not someone who would require more. She wouldn't have it to give.

"I am so glad you're okay, Shane! Things around the clinic have been bleak as fuck. Susan is loosing her mind, Anita is beside herself with concern, and the rest of us just plain ol' miss the hell out of you. And not just because of all of the overtime everyone has been pulling to get your patients seen."

"Oh, God, I'm so sorry! I didn't realize…wow, I'm awful. I didn't even think---"

"That you'd be missed? Think again, sister. The place would fall apart if you ever really left. But don't feel guilty. It's the least everyone can do, and they've all said it themselves. We all love you, and know that you'd do the same for any of us if you could at all. Hopefully you won't have to, though!"

Shane nodded, eyes wide in agreement. She wouldn't wish the last week of her life on her worst enemy. On the worst person in the world. Except maybe the people responsible. Tit for tat.

"Well, I'm sorry my absence has caused extra work for all of you." Shane looked into the deep glass of Chardonnay Sy had poured her from the bottle Heather had brought. She felt about as small as the air bubble making it's way up the sloping curve of the stemless vessel. She felt a guilt that she knew was fully void of logic. It made no sense for her to feel guilt for being kidnapped. But she had always had this notion, this nagging voice in her head that told her that her misfortunes were a direct result of her decisions. That she'd inadvertently stepped on the butterfly that resulted in the monsoon she was currently experiencing, and whatever cataclysmic events she would face next.

"Why in God's name are you apologizing for this, Shay?" Heather's tone was kind, but still mildly scolding.

"If I'd never been with Elliott, none of this would have--"

"Bitch, are you a fortune teller?"

"No, but--"

"Soothsayer?"

"No."

"Time traveler?"

"I wish!" Shane chuckled. But she really did wish.

"Have you any real and proven success at consistently predicting the future?"

"I don't, but--"

"No. No buts. No howevers. You had no idea what becoming involved with Elliott could have done. Were there signs, sure. But you can't look on the past as a rubric to judge the quality of your decisions. You know that. You can only learn from your mistakes. And you have."

"Heather's right, sunshine. You really have learned. You look for Elliott's behaviors in mine and shut me down quick if you see 'em. You're not going to let yourself go down that road again. And I'm proud of you for it."

Shane silently worried her wine glass. It was hard to argue with such truth. But it was hard to agree when her own feelings were in such stark opposition. So she did neither.

"Well, I've preached my sermon for the day." she laughed. "I've taken up enough of your time. Oh, your phone. It's in my purse. I think it's fully charged, but I turned it off."

Shane thanked her friend, then Heather hugged them both and took her leave.

"Y'okay, bug?" Sy asked her after what she surmised was several minutes of silence. Minutes she didn't notice as they passed.

"Mmm…" she trailed off.

"Can I do something for ya?" And she really thought about the question. He could probably do a lot of things for her. He could make love to her until she felt whole again, even if it hurt her at first. Not an ideal option. He could probably get them both some new identities and enough money to spirit her away to somewhere her past wouldn't follow. If she became someone new, literally, would she have to bring that old baggage, those old scars, with her? Again, suboptimal. But he could definitely take the source of all grief and turmoil in her life far into the Missouri back country, somewhere not even the hunters would venture, some fallow field or forgotten cistern, and end him. Snuff out his spark of life like a candle caught in a tornado. Spill a fatal amount of his monstrous blood onto the unforgiving earth and send him to the Hell to which he was undoubtedly destined. But did she want that? Did she want another soul as a scar on that of the man she so deeply cherished? He'd say it was worth it. He'd say he'd take a thousand more for her. A million. That was Sy.

"Nothing comes to mind." She lied. And he knew it was a lie, but didn't push it. She was so grateful that he respected her, not for the lie itself, but for the reason she wasn't giving him the whole truth just now.

His phone went off and he picked it up as he stood from his seat at the table. She could only hear that it was Matt, the guy she thought she understood had the car place, before she heard tension in Sy's voice. Even from the next room, she could tell something was wrong, though he was talking too quietly for her to make out words.

She heard him suddenly shout a stream of profanities that he rarely said at all around her, at least, let alone together. There was a bang, and the walls of her kitchen quaked like the tectonic plates beneath them were shifting.

Sy walked back in, his face was red, as were his knuckles. He was shaking an injury out of his hand.

"What's wrong?" she asked, deep concern at his appearance and demeanor, suddenly ominous.

"I need to fix your wall in there." he grumbled, evading, without success. She'd be doing therapy on his hand, next.

"What's really wrong?" she repeated, sternly.

"That was Matt. Elliott's…escaped, somehow. He's in the wind."

Shane's heart became so heavy, she could almost feel it smashing through the kitchen floor and burying itself deep in the cement floor of her basement.

"Oh, God! No! What if he goes to the police!?"

"Fuck that, I'm more concerned about him coming after you!"

The two stared, faces full of equal measures of concern for the other.

Up Next: Chapter 21-Patient Education

[renegadewangs]

Van Zieks - the Examination, part 4

Warnings: SPOILERS for The Great Ace Attorney: Chronicles. Additional warning for racist sentiments uttered by fictional characters (and screencaps to show these sentiments).

Disclaimer: (see  Part 1 for the more detailed disclaimer.) - These posts are not meant to be taken as fact. Everything I’m outlining stems from my own views and experiences. If you believe that I’ve missed or misinterpreted something, please let me know so I can edit the post accordingly. -The purpose of these posts is an analysis, nothing more. Please do not come into these posts expecting me to either defend Barok van Zieks from haters, nor expecting me to encourage the hatred. - I’m using the Western release of The Great Ace Attorney Chronicles for these posts, but may refer to the original Japanese dialogue of Dai Gyakuten Saiban if needed to compare what’s said. This also means I’m using the localized names and localized romanization of the names to stay consistent. -It doesn’t matter one bit to me whether you like Barok van Zieks or dislike him. However, I will ask that everyone who comments refrains from attacking real, actual people.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

It’s time to take a close look at Episode 2 of the second game, The Memoirs of the Clouded Kokoro!

Episode 2-2: The Memoirs of the Clouded Kokoro

Remember how in the last episode we vaguely got Barok on our side near the end of the trial by proving Mrs. Garrideb was actually involved in the crime? … Yeah. Forget that progress. It's being undone. Case 2-2 is the first case of the second game which features Barok, which unfortunately means he needs to be 'reintroduced' to the audience and it takes him back several steps in his growth. It makes sense, I suppose, it would've been weird starting a new game with him already being lightly on Ryu's side. Even so, it's a bit insulting how this case acts as if the chronologically previous one accomplished nothing.

So anyway, this case flashbacks to something which supposedly happened right after the first game's fourth case. The day after Soseki's acquittal, even. Turns out, Soseki awoke to find one of the other tenants in his building dead and asked Ryu for help, but (S)Holmes tagged along. Gregson is at the crime scene, keeping an eye on the place and on Soseki in particular since he's suspicious. (Sure, Gregson. Sure. Has nothing to do with the Reaper's curse, probably.) After some investigation with (S)Holmes, Gregson has enough evidence to actually arrest Soseki, which definitely feels like a step backwards. A bit later, it turns out the victim is Not Actually Dead Yet. Again! The Great Ace Attorney really enjoys throwing us for a loop by pretending we're in for another murder case.

Anyway, during the course of the investigation, I found two mentions of Van Zieks. The first is when you investigate the broken glasses and bottles in the victim's room. Susato is immediately reminded of Lord van Zieks.

And when examining Garrideb's old army uniform, Susato points out it might suit Lord van Zieks.

Haha, as if his usual outfit isn't ostentatious enough already. So we learn that Susato doesn't have a very high opinion of him at all, and I should hope it's not still related to that time he called detective novels pathetic. It's fun of them to refer to him in an investigation that he's not involved in in any way, especially when they don't know yet that he's the prosecution again.

Speaking to Soseki in the gaol, we're once again told that he's had a dreadful time in England so far. He sees foreigners everywhere and he's sure they're all laughing at him. He's been so on edge the past year that he's moved 'more times than he can remember'. So once again, we're reminded that racial prejudice in 1900s England is a focal point of this game's story. Once the conversation is over, Gregson appears to let the gang know that the victim has regained consciousness and is accusing Soseki of poisoning him. We're going to trial for an attempted murder charge, y'all!

The next day, in the defendant's lobby, Susato comes bursting in with the dreadful news that Barok van Zieks has once again taken on the prosecution. It's definitely safe to assume now that either Ryu or Soseki is the reason he's taking on these not-really-murder trials when he normally wouldn't. As I mentioned before, this is his reintroduction in the second game and so the game feels compelled to remind the player of what went down in case 1-4:

He sure did! The game also once again reminds us what the Reaper's Curse entails, and that perhaps that's the reason why Soseki is on trial yet again. He's doomed, perhaps. Susato also informs us that (S)Holmes is running late, just as he was two days ago, and Ryu thinks that's a good thing because if the Great Detective were there, Ryu might come to rely on his help.

… I suppose? He already relies on Susato for help and I feel like that would warrant far more 'preying' from Van Zieks than relying on a male, adult British detective for help. Though knowing (S)Holmes, he'd end up stealing the show and taking the words from Ryu's mouth, but that doesn't seem to be what Ryu's worried about here. I suppose the main point to take away from this remark is that Ryu wants to do as much as he can by himself. He wants to appear strong in front of Van Zieks to avoid presenting an easy target, and I think this might actually be the first time we see a sentiment like that from him. Is he afraid of Van Zieks? Does he actually care about the man's opinion? Anyway, he swears to show Van Zieks what a Japanese lawyer can do.

Inside the courtroom, Van Zieks does the usual prosecutor spiel about how the defense needs to be ready for defeat. Ryu thinks to himself that Van Zieks has a particular animosity towards Japanese people for some reason.

Good thing we got a second game in the series, eh? So because the defendant was on trial only two days ago, the same jurors were chosen where possible. The only juror not returning is Mrs. Garrideb, who's too busy being in prison. Her spot is now taken by a very fancy lady we later learn to be the wife of the Altamont Gas Company's owner. She may as well be the CEO herself with how she's acting, though. Anyway, Van Zieks addresses the jurors directly.

“However, the innocent verdict afforded to this eccentric Nipponese before... has had dire consequences. Did the accused repent for his wrongdoing in that affair? Far from it. Instead, he used his freedom to perpetrate a most blood-curdling crime!”

Van Zieks makes record time by taking off his cloak immediately after this line. He's gone straight into overdrive. The witnesses summoned this time are Inspector Gregson and... Soseki? It's very irregular for the defendant to be testifying, especially this early in the trial and especially by the prosecution's request. I can't really make much of it. It feels like the only reason Soseki is testifying is for this joke:

Also found when examining the testimony is a remark from Van Zieks that I honestly found shocking in how ferocious and scummy it is.

Unnecessary, that remark. It didn't need to exist at all in my opinion. So after Ryu shatters the testimony and scatters Gregson's fish 'n chips, Van Zieks calmly pours himself a glass of wine. I have to be honest, by now whenever he does this I'm left wondering what he'll do next. Will he crush the chalice? Will he throw it? Will he actually take a sip? The versatility of the action and unpredictable nature of Van Zieks add a bit of suspense. Turns out, his mind wandered during the testimony.

And then he ends up crushing the glass in his hand anyway. Alas, poor chalice. We knew it. So after a bit of debating back and forth about whether Shamspeare drank the supposedly-poisoned-tea after Soseki left the room, Van Zieks suddenly falls silent. We get three different, consecutive frames of him going “......” and when the judge asks what's wrong, he says this:

Supersonic hearing, this one. That is, unless the carriage entered the courthouse and literally pulled up in the hallway outside the room? Haven't we learned our lesson from the last time a carriage was driven into the Old Bailey?! So Shamspeare was apparently subpoenaed by the prosecution and has shown up to testify (with his doctor's permission). Bad news for us, since he's the one accusing Soseki in the first place. There's also a second witness to support Shamspeare's insistence there were no other visitors to the room and therefore only Soseki could have poisoned him. After that testimony is over, Van Zieks gets his wish and all the jurors vote guilty.

Van Zieks really seems to think that Soseki is a terrible person deserving of justice, huh? He was right there during the previous trial, saw Ryu prove without a shadow of a doubt that Soseki was innocent and still insists that justice will be done “this time”. Calm the heck down man, you're the one who sided with us when Mrs. Garrideb needed to testify, remember? And here comes another example of the game pretending the previous trials didn't leave an impact; when the Summation Examination is brought up, it's with disdain and this remark:

Bro, we used the Summation Examination successfully like five times already. Sit your butt down and watch the show. The jurors once again give prejudiced reasons for their decisions:

And unfortunately, instead of changing their minds by proving Soseki is a morally upstanding, innocent citizen, Ryu instead gets through this Summation Examination by basically proving Shamspeare is a worse person than Soseki. That's... not the direction you should be taking here, narrative. After convincing four of the jurors that Shamspeare is a fishy liar, Van Zieks flings another chalice of wine in frustration. The judge still thinks he could technically pass a ruling on the trial, since the new information didn't exactly disprove that Soseki is the culprit, but the jurors have been influenced so thoroughly that they can't let this new info go ignored. Testimony from the Altamont Company is allowed! Van Zieks thinks it's a waste of time, of course, and if this were reality it would be. Since it's an Ace Attorney game, we know Shamspeare's gas thievery is bound to somehow be related to the incident. Van Zieks flings yet another chalice after hearing the testimony (how many has it been already? Five?) and very shortly after, he tosses the entire bottle over his shoulder. Susato points out that he seems to be in a violent mood. I feel like someone must've pissed in his oatmeal that morning, because I've got no real explanation for why his character regressed this badly in the course of what chronologically was only two days.

Van Zieks flings two more chalices as the testimony progresses to prove that Shamspeare made fake coins to fool the gas meter. At the end of it all, he supposedly 'throws his hand up in despair and happened to catch his hallowed bottle along the way', flinging yet another one of those into the gallery. I'm starting to feel very bad for the people seated behind him now. Is the game overdoing these quirky animations to compensate for his regressed attitude? Because I'm not sure it's working... Van Zieks continues to insist that the situation hasn't changed and only Soseki could have poisoned the victim, so he calls for immediate adjucation. The game gives Ryu the option to either object or wait and see, and I have to be honest, this gave me pause. After what happened with the penalties in case 1-4, I was sure Van Zieks might dish out more punishment for waiting and seeing. Turns out, he doesn't. Ryu points out that Shamspeare likely used the tea to make these fake frozen coins of his, meaning there's still tea left at the scene of the crime which can be tested for poison.

Head in my hands right now. Again, I get it, they basically had to reintroduce Van Zieks to newcomers of the game (however few there might've been) so they had to regress him a bit, but I really don't like this. He honestly felt like he'd grown at the end of 1-4 and the game's not only undone it, it feels like they've made him even more of a scumbag. This line and this gesture honestly doesn’t quite correspond with the character established in the previous game. Anyway, court adjourned till the next day so the police can test the tea for poison.

During the investigation segment, we get a conversation that I'd quite honestly forgotten even exists. Turns out, (S)Holmes and Van Zieks are acquainted! ...or are they? (S)Holmes says he 'must pass the time of day with Mr. Reaper again, as it's been too long' and when asked whether they're acquainted, (S)Holmes replies that there isn't a person in the world who doesn't know his name, expertly dodging the question. Naturally, a new conversation topic opens up about it, so we can still attempt to needle more details out of him.

He explains the history of the Reaper's curse a bit more. Previous defendants found not-guilty would 'disappear from the capital' by falling under a passing carriage, drowning in the Thames, succumbing to a sudden fever... Etc. Susato points out that if those rumors are true, then surely the obvious conclusion would be that they were killed by Van Zieks's own hand. (S)Holmes points out that's impossible, since Van Zieks was already investigated on the matter before and for every single incident, he had a solid alibi. (This... doesn't disprove Van Zieks had anything to do with it, but okay (S)Holmes. Sure.) (S)Holmes also rubs it in yet again that Van Zieks retired from the courts five years ago and didn't return until the day Naruhodo arrived. I honestly don't know why they keep bringing that 5 year hiatus up in every single case, because as far as I can recall it was never fully explained or relevant.

I love how “foul smell” is wedged in-between those two topics as if it's also related. Anyway the conversation continues when Ryu brings up that Van Zieks seems to have a particular disdain for Japanese people. Susato demands to know whether (S)Holmes knows a bit more about it and while he's silent at first, he relents and tells us a tale (which will apparently be forgotten by Ryu and Susato in case 1-5). Van Zieks “chose to enter the legal profession ten years ago, but before that time, the man's closest companion hailed from the empire of Japan”. Which is a wording that baffles me, because it implies that Van Zieks chose to enter the legal profession at the same moment that Japanese person betrayed him, which we know is not the case. He was already in training to be a prosecutor before that, otherwise how could he possibly have prosecuted the Professor trial? Ryu is shocked and asks to know more, but (S)Holmes says the veil on the events from the past will be lifted soon enough. I'll get back to the implications of what this means for Van Zieks's backstory when we hit this exact same reveal in case 1-5.

Van Zieks is mentioned very little in the rest of the investigation segments. We only learn that he tasked Gregson with finding new clues, much to Gregson's dismay, as there isn't much to be found. The Inspector does immediately leap at new information when we uncover it, which implies he's eager to either please Van Zieks or avoid being scolded by him. I'm assuming the latter, but it's also possible Gregson feels guilty over the whole Reaper thing and Klint's autopsy, and is now compensating by working his hardest to fulfill Van Zieks's requests.

At the very end of the investigation, when evening falls, (S)Holmes reminds us that “it'll be hard to escape the grip of our friend, Mr. Reaper”. The next day, in the defendant's lobby just before the trial begins, Ryu thinks to himself that he doesn't believe in the legend of the Reaper any more than he believes in the convict's curse Soseki keeps mentioning. What's interesting here is that Ryu isn't dreading the confrontation anymore. After the McGilded trial he seemed genuinely intimidated by the concept of going up against Van Zieks (not because of the racism but because of what happened to his first defendant), but now he's not so hesitant anymore. He's beginning to see that Van Zieks can be defeated, that the Reaper thing is nonsense and that protecting his client is a fight worth fighting.

Into the courtroom we go for day 2 of the trial! When the judge asks about the results of the tea test, Van Zieks is silent for a moment. He pours himself a glass of wine, asking for a moment to “savour a liquid of a more sanguine hue”, then refers to Gregson for the full report. Gregson confirms no poison was found in the tea remains, but the prosecution wouldn't be the prosecution (and the game would be pretty boring) if they didn't have a backup plan. When Ryu proclaims Soseki is innocent, Van Zieks accuses him of jumping to conclusions, “a typical Nipponese reaction”. It's also a typical prosecution reaction to be hypocritical, no surprises here. He throws his chalice (first one of the day) and summons Shamspeare back to the stand to testify about how Soseki's unpoisoned and undrank cup of tea had been used to make the ice coins.

There's some lines here that I thought I might as well include:

“Yet on occasion, tedium distracts me and I pour more times than I intended until the bottle is dry.”

You know, it occurs to me that this drink is pretty much confirmed to be wine. He's very extra when talking about it himself, but he had his silly little wine analogies in the previous case and Susato referred to his glasses as “wine glasses”. And you would think it's obvious that it's wine, but we know Ace Attorney's long history with 'grape juice'. Either way, this dialogue leaves a pretty harsh implication that Van Zieks drinks alcohol simply to distract himself from troublesome moods. Sure, he says “tedium”, but this is a stoic prosecutor in the year 1900. They referred to depression as “melancholia” back then, and since he doesn't appear to have any friends, I expect he experiences “tedium” quite often outside the courtroom. He apparently set a rule for himself not to fill his glass more than seven times during a trial which, in turn, implies he's aware any more would cause problems. All of this is moot, of course, since 80% of the wine he pours for himself ends up on the floor between shards of glass. Still, though... Zieks, are you okay?

I don't think he is, because he pulls a very dirty trick here. Ryu proves Soseki drank all his tea and therefore it couldn't possibly have been used, so Van Zieks insinuates to Shamspeare that perhaps he misremembered using the tea from Soseki's cup and instead used tea still left in the teapot. An excuse Shamspeare happily takes, of course. Not gonna lie, I got angry, not because it's a dirty trick but because it's inconsistent. This is the very same character who all but dragged Mrs. Garrideb down from the juror bench to testify when it became clear she likely threw a knife out the window. And now he's feeding slippery excuses to a man who's very clearly lying about all sorts of things? What??? And remember this incident, because I'm going to be referring back to it later.

He crushes another chalice, removes his cloak and continues to insist that we should believe this thieving liar at the witness stand. The jurors for some reason buy the baloney served to them on a tinfoil platter and even twist Ryu's sentiments around, with some bloke going as far as to interpret the situation as 'the lawyer lad believes anyone who steals gas deserves to be poisoned'. Summation Examination gets very funky this time around, with the outcome being that Shamspeare probably blew the gas pipes (s-snerk) and the poison was laced on the pipe.

Van Zieks pours himself a glass of wine and pretty much immediately flings it, saying these are all empty assertions without a shred of proof. When Ryu presents the picture with the skin prints, Van Zieks once again breaks the rule of the prosecution staying silent during Summation Examination to point out that skin prints cannot be used as evidence, since that method is not recognized by the court (yet). Aaand he crushes yet another chalice in his hand.

Susato claims it was never meant to be used as official evidence, it was only a tool to demonstrate a new possibility to the jury. Jumping through some loopholes here, we are, since the picture is clearly in our Court Record as evidence. But, well, the prosecution cheats too so what's the harm? Some jurors vote not-guilty, but there's still one more that needs convincing on order to keep the trial going. Ryu says he has a witness who's already testified that the pipe-blowing incident did indeed occur that night, as Soseki stated the other day before the court that his stove went out in the dead of night. (Hang on, is this why the narrative made him testify alongside Gregson?) With that the majority of the jury votes not-guilty and the trial has to continue, but Van Zieks is extra rattled now. (Another bottle goes soaring.)

He once again reminds the court that skin prints aren't admissible evidence and therefore, there is no real proof Shamspeare put his mouth to the pipes (ghghhh I'm sorry this is such a silly thing to have to type out). Ryu asks for an investigative team to test the mouth of the gas pipe for poison, but since it would've evaporated by now, that's a no-go. Also, Van Zieks says that “what appears to be simple is my Nipponese friend's mind” and that's a scumbag point. Ryu attempts to turn the trial around by claiming that Shamspeare attempted to kill Soseki, making the defendant the victim, but Van Zieks ain't having it. The aggrieved being the accused is an interesting notion, but doesn't change what actually happened. In fact, if anything, it establishes a motive for Soseki to lay a trap for Shamspeare. Because who else could have known about the gas pipe trickery and put the poison there, right? Why, the true culprit, of course.

Our man Van Zieks really doesn't like (S)Holmes, huh? A tidbit which the games will never bother to explain! Either way, Ryu raises the name of Olive Green, the victim of the previous case. And I gotta say, I do genuinely like the way they integrated these two Clouded Kokoro cases together. The chronology of everything that went down is very fun to decipher, but long story short, Olive Green was at Briar Road the day she was stabbed for a reason and knows more about the 'convict curse' Soseki and Garrideb kept mentioning, so let's drag her into court! Van Zieks agrees to subpoena Miss Green in order to 'see his Nipponese friend's farce through to its conclusion'.

So during intermission some more evidence is handed to Ryu and when trial resumes, Van Zieks continues to be his usual self.

“The prosecution has tried to extend every courtesy to this amateur newcomer from dubious Eastern shores.”

Ryu sweats bullets as he meekly thanks Van Zieks “(for his backhanded consideration)”, but once again the judge is the one to call Van Zieks out on his attitude.

Amazing. It's so refreshing to see a judge who actually disagrees with the prosecution's haughty attitude problems and acknowledges it has no place in a courtroom. Nothing against Udgey, because we all love Udgey (and his Canadian brother), but this man actually grows and learns. So Olive Green takes the stand alongside Shamspeare (maybe not the best idea since Ryu just accused her of trying to murder this man) for dual testimony. When Green brings up what a dreadful ordeal the knife to her back was, Van Zieks says this:

Hang on, empathy? He's giving her advice? This reeks of humanization! Green seems taken aback and thanks him for his words, so the sentiment was genuinely accepted. This in itself is a very nice scene to see in action, similar to Van Zieks allowing Roly Beate to keep his job. Unfortunately, Van Zieks's character is in a wild rollercoaster of moral inconsistency during this particular case which sours the experience somewhat. Case in point:

YOOOU hypocrite! This actively angered me, because at the very start of this same trial day he was personally feeding lies to Shamspeare. Now he's warning Green not to lie? It gets even worse a bit later on when Green gets cornered about stealing the note, she asks him whether it could all be some sort of misunderstanding, and he says:

ACTIVELY FEEDING SHAMSPEARE A LIE. THE VERY SAME DAY. I'm all for prosecutors using dirty tactics. It helps to juxtapose them further to the honest defense attorney we play as. However, it needs to be consistent. Either a prosecutor condones a witness's lies to help their case, or they feel that they're above it. The third, most used option is for them to start off condoning it, only to learn that truth takes priority over victory. This sloppy back-and-forth morality that Van Zieks has going on here is insanely frustrating, so it's no wonder some players end up disliking him. It honestly feels as if they rewrote this case so many times, they screwed up the exact growth trajectory Van Zieks has.

Anyway, it seems Van Zieks is suddenly fully on our side now to help Ryu prove that Green was in Shamspeare's room and laced the gas pipe with poison. And I mean help help. When the judge points out that if Green had laced the pipe the very same day she was stabbed, the attempted murder would have happened six days ago. Van Zieks is the one to say “Perhaps not, My Lord” and explain Briar Road was full of police at that time. At this point, Van Zieks and Ryu (and also Susato) actively start to take turns to explain the proper chronology of events. So the defense and the prosecution are in perfect sync right now, working together to explain the whodunnit. This is the ideal outcome to any trial, usually not seen until the last case of the game, so it's curious that this dynamic abruptly shows itself in a case like this. Van Zieks does still have one moment of gaslighting when he claims Ryu may have inhaled some dubious gas, causing his judgment to be clouded, since there's no motive behind Shamspeare's attempts on his fellow lodgers. A matter that's very easily resolved, of course. Once the name of Selden is brought up, Van Zieks continues our little game of back-and-forth-truth-reveal until (S)Holmes shows his face.

“Your usual haunts are the filthy backstreets of the capital, are they not?”

To which (S)Holmes replies that it's been too long, and Van Zieks's complexion has worsened since last they met. Alright, so Van Zieks and (S)Holmes definitely have met in person before, some undetermined amount of time ago. You'd think that going by (S)Holmes's friendly attitude they might've even been friends once, but our great detective is like that towards everyone. This is evidenced by an earlier encounter with Gregson where (S)Holmes insists they're friends and Gregson says that they're not friends, to which (S)Holmes quietly agrees. So really, this little exchange tells us nothing about the history between the great detective and the Reaper.

Some shenaniganry, a breakdown and admittance to guilt later, the court is finally ready to deem Soseki innocent. Van Zieks once again has some interesting lines here:

“And one I certainly didn't envisage walking... with you.”

Considering he attempted to trip us up for most of this walk up until the very last stretch, I don't like this remark very much. It feels very unearned. This is another one of those things that would've been more suitable in the last case of the game, but instead it's being crammed into a messy mid-game moment with the pretense that Van Zieks learned a lesson about being our ally.

In the defendant's lobby, the game basically gives the exact same dialogue as at the end of the original Clouded Kokoro case; that Soseki is returning to Japan and hopes to pen his own literature there, with the rest of the cast pointing out that the Reaper's Curse must factor into his decision to some degree. So we're still holding onto that question of whether Soseki will escape an untimely death or not. Anyone who's already played the last case of the first game will know the answer, of course.

So to summarize... I genuinely didn't enjoy Van Zieks's portrayal in this case. It really feels as if something went horribly wrong and they got some notes mixed up about where his character was already headed in the previous game. It's a crying shame. There was a lot of potential for a case set between 1-4 and 1-5, but they really dropped the ball when it comes to consistency and I've no doubt that it reflected badly on people's opinions of him. Though I think when we return to the first game for The Unspeakable Story, everything will right itself out again to some degree. Stay tuned!

[thefairyletters]

Could you answer this question? I went through a bunch of Sakura fics, many recommended by yourself (many good ones, thanks for your excellent taste!) but I also explored on my own, which is how this question spurred. I was wondering why so many ppl want Sakura to have wood release? &, because it's been a while so my memory's foggy, wasnt wood release sort of a bloodline thing? They had to infuse Hashirama's cells w/ Yamato for him to use it. It seems a little...I guess radical to give it to her? I LOVE Sakura, which is exactly why it kind of throws me off. I think she's already strong as is, & I think being able to utilize genjutsu & slug sage mode are logical expansions of her abilities, so wood release seems very...Idk how to put it but it seems like erasing Sakura. I'm discovering that I truly really dont think I like BAMF Sakura fics a lot bc it just doesnt read AS Sakura. It's like the author's are ashamed of her. Also I dislike when they use Strong!Sakura as a tag on ao3 bc she IS strong that HASNT changed & there's a canonical version of BAMF!Sakura in everything before the Pein arc. Everything after the Pein arc turned the entire series in a bad fanfiction for everyone in itself.

Thank you, I'm happy to know you enjoyed my recs!

That's a good question.

This is what I think makes Sakura badass ➡ here

I love Sakura the way she is, as well. Her development, however, is lacking not in terms of her personality but her skillset. She has impressive chakra control, monstrous strength and is one of the two frontline medics and one of the best healers in the world. She has impressive feats under her belt as well, two of the most remarkable include her byakugo seal and her fight with Sasori alongside Chiyo. But it pales in comparison to her teammates, including Sai and Kakashi. I don't mind that too, because her journey is different than others, excluding Lee and possibly Tenten. She isn't seen much involved in fights, her attacks are repetitive in the show, she isn't bestowed many techniques under her belt and her best moments are in games and novels. It is not her character's fault but Kishimoto who just doesn't use her strength and intelligence which he (and other characters) have mentioned she has.

She is genjutsu type – but has she ever performed one, or even gotten out of one easily? Whats the use of such information if Kishimoto doesn't use it?

She has near perfect chakra control – she should be easily able to perform many techniques and practice different elements, especially water, but earth style and cloning is what we mostly ever see her use.

She has good foundation in Taijutsu – and that should increase her stamina and therefore her chakra coils, and that in turn will ensure she is able to use many techniques.

Her medical and research skills are only next to Tsunade – and we wish to see her revolutionize the medical field which she has but in Borutoverse. That is time skip. That doesn't really relive you much.

She has resistance to mind jutsus, thanks to her inner personality – and theoretically she should be able to even evade strong genjutsus like she did Ino's clan technique (something never been done before) but Kishimoto only used that incredible ability once. ONCE.

She has massive chakra storage and exceptional chakra control and sensitivity – she should be able to master Senjutsu, a field which is all about chakra. Anything that has to do with chakra control is Sakura's playground.

She is more or less an unofficial poison expert – but we didn't see her playing with poison expertly (a poison that even Suna's poison experts failed to break) after Gaara's retrieval arc.

She is the smart and responsible one of team 7 – but Kishi often makes her look both stupid and selfish. We don't see her use her intelligence much. I hate that more than her lacking in the expansion of the skills.

She trained under a political leader – that itself makes her and Shizune great administrators and governors. So, out of everyone, Sakura is the one of the best Hokage material. Hokage is said to be the strongest fighter of the village but that requirement failed us when Tsunade became the fifth Hokage.

She has yin seal – the strongest seals one can make, in their own body no less. It also shows her expert control of her chakra. She can summon one of the big 3 summons. Sealing is more or less code that requires high intelligence and great chakra control that can be fused into the ink. As far as I can tell, she is one of the best candidates to learn Fuinjutsu.

With all these possibilities of her growth – because it is not something we make up but something Kishi has implied she has but never explored – how can one not exploit it? It doesn't mean one doesn't love Sakura for who she is but that its because they love her that they want to give her what she has the right to. She doesn't have to be expert at something to be powerful, just her putting her skills to best use is admirable as it is. I love Sakura for who she is and who she could be.

Now, onto the question as to why people seem to favour giving Sakura wood release, this are the following reasons that I think could be it:

Does it have to be bloodline limit?

Kishimoto gave Hashirama a unique bloodline limit that apparently cannot be inherited by any other Senju. That defeats the purpose of bloodline limit. What makes Senju clan so different? Without Hashirama in the picture, you cannot distinctly identify a Senju clan member aside from their strong chakras. Tobirama is identified for his water techniques. Tsunade has perfect control of her chakra that allowed her to exhibit monstrous strength and incredible healing abilities. How come wood release is a bloodline limit but is not passed down the line?

It is complicated because Tsunade is also renowned for her perfect chakra control just like Hashirama. So, some stories make Sakura a secret Senju clan member because of her uncanny resemblance to Tsunade and Senju clan in general. Pink hair can be a diluted version of Red (Mito) and her chakra control originating directly from Hashirama's lineage.

I personally don't like this because I love Sakura being a civilian child.

It's not a bloodline limit:

So, assuming wood release is not a bloodlimit but a very hard technique requiring precise chakra control and mastery of dual elements Earth and Water, then it is possible for Sakura to practice same technique because of her prodigious chakra control. By that logic, we can also assume that Tenzo inherited Hashirama's unique chakra control to use wood release. Because Orochimaru could have used Tsunade's DNA too if it was only about clan blood. So that rules out bloodline limit.

I love the idea of Sakura practising wood release because it is possible for her to do so. So if an author gives Sakura wood release that she hones with practice and control (ref. fanfic: Labyrinthine) instead of having been gifted with it, I'm digging it.

Nature chooses the wood user:

Naruto universe has many references to spiritual entities such as gods/goddesses, reincarnation and celestial bodies. It is conceivable to make nature an ethereal entity that has its own will. Sakura looks like the embodiment of spring with her petal hair and green eyes, and Hashirama can be compared to wood with his warm personality and appearance, these attributes can make them look distinctly attractive to nature. No other characters remind me strongly of nature than these two so I suppose they can be uniquely selected to be blessed this ability. Tenzo's abilities is the result of human experiment by Orochimaru who always cheats on nature so he is an exception.

I only like this because I like the idea of Sakura being Nature's child.

Most stories that I love don't give her a special edge and only give her more techniques under her arsenal. It is very rarely that I love an OCC Sakura who has a bloodline, a clan or godlike abilities.

After Pein's arc, Naruto turned into a joke. Everyone in team 7 (barring Sakura, Sai and Yamato) and long list of antagonists seemed to get power ups left and right. Sakura got hers in the last moment as a last ditch effort to reunite team 7 as one, a moment that felt so hasty that I couldn't take the show seriously at all. I was so disappointed with the whole war arc. I cringe just thinking about it. I sometimes think if it would have been better for everyone to just die with happily ever after in their mind. That would be tragic but a fitting end because Madara became too OP and Kaguya ridiculously so.

The reason people add 'Strong', 'BAMF', 'Smart' prefixes before Sakura is the reason why people add extra qualities to Sakura's character. They are not satisfied with how Sakura handles herself in fights and many base her fights with the one she had with Sasori. After that, did you see her actively participating in any major fight, barring her attempts to make a score on sidelines? Usually, these fanfictions also justify why she is Tsunade 2.0, something the Naruto failed to show.

By the way, many stories have BAMF tag for Shikamaru, Naruto and Sasuke as well. Are they not already strong af? They don't use Strong tag for them though, and that's because their fighting prowess is already seen. Shikamaru is not much of a fighter as much as he is a strategist and a leader. He is a cool and sly character. Naruto and Sasuke have flashy moves with flashy names under their belt with absurd power levels that puts them in god tier. Sakura has none of that – no signature move that is uniquely her, no clan to back her, no move with a name (barring game moves) – and she is seen useless because she is a healer which is a non-offensive, background job even if it is the most crucial and taxing job. It's significance is even more reduced when people point out how her work is futile because they are again sent to the fight/missions once they are up to go. Most fans only care for visual aesthetics, regardless of how rare and in-demand medics are because of the lack of qualified people who can muster and use medical chakra properly.

Sakura is more than just a healer but in canon she is more or less reduced to that. To make things worse for her, both Ino and Hinata are also shown to have healing techniques. They both also have clan techniques (vastly unknown) with them which makes them appear more 'useful'. Sakura is literally in the shadow of her mentor and her friends.

In Boruto, she is said to be the most powerful Kunoichi of her generation and quite possibly the greatest medic in the world but in Shippuden it is severely undermined. This is also why Boruto fans love Sakura but a bunch of Shippuden fans don't.

I mostly don't judge BAMF/Strong Sakura fanfictions, but I mostly avoid Anbu Sakura fanfictions if I can because I personally don't belive Sakura to be an Anbu material.

.

I want to add more, but I think I got my point across. Thank you for reading this far. I hope I answered your question adequately.

[aricazorel]

OC Questionnaire

I was tagged by @enasallavellan Thank You! This was really fun!

Answering for my Dragon Age: Inquisition OC from my ongoing fanfic series on AO3.

(This got a little long so more below the cut)

THE BASICS:

Character’s name:

Anyssa McBride

Role in story:

Inquisition Historian from Earth (MGIT story; Anchor series on AO3)

Physical description:

5ft 6in, wavy honey blonde hair that currently reaches midway down her back (on Earth it was roughly shoulder length, ice blue eyes

Age:

She is 26 when she arrives in Thedas and currently is 29 in my story. (She will be 30 shortly after the events set in Trespasser)

MBTI/Enneagram Personality Type:

I took two different tests when I created Anyssa and both labeled her as ‘ENFJ’—the giver or mentor. (I would argue that while she tested as an extrovert she does appreciate introvertedness and the current situation dictates which she chooses to be)

INTERNAL LIFE:

What is their greatest fear?

Being used and taken for granted

Inner motivation:

To help others and support them, hoping to see them happy

Kryptonite:

Having her self-doubts realized

What is their misbelief about the world?

Anyssa believes that everyone wants help and they just do not know how to ask for it. Unfortunately she has found out that some people just don’t want help no matter how sincere you are.

Lesson they need to learn:

She needs to learn to trust herself. Those around her know of her past on Earth and have made efforts to help her learn that. But no matter what, she still struggles with it, sometimes to the point of questioning whether she deserves the life she now has.

What is the best thing in their life?

A group of people who love and care for her. In other words, Friends

What is the worst thing in their life?

A history on Earth of those that were supposed to care for her, using her instead…and abuse. After her parents died in a car crash during her junior in high school, she went to live with her aunt and uncle who proceeded to steal the money her parents had left her for college. Later she entered into a relationship with a seemingly charming man named Bryan who turned out to be emotionally and physically abusive towards her. After two years she worked up the courage to attempt to leave. After multiple tries, she finally succeeded only to end up in Thedas.

What do they most often look down on people for?

Taking advantage of others, being cruel/mean to others, judging other without taking into consideration what they have been through

What makes his/her/their heart feel alive?

Writing stories based on those around her, sharing her knowledge with people who appreciate it, learning about the cultures and people around her, horseback riding, rock climbing, exploring the tunnels under Skyhold

What makes them feel loved, and who was the last person to make them feel that way?

The people she had come to know as friends in Thedas. They have become her ‘found’ family—something she thought to never have again. The last person to make her feel that way is Cullen. He always knows the right thing to say or the right thing to do to let her know she is loved.

Top three things they value most in life?

Acceptance by others, support of others, friendship

EXTERNAL LIFE:

Is there an object they can’t bear to part with and why?

No personal items from Earth made it through the rift to Thedas with Anyssa. What she has come to cherish most is the small items her friends have given her in an effort to make she feel at home. Most notably is the Cullen’s coin she wears around her neck and a stuffed dragon named Puff he gave her before they ever began their relationship.

Describe a typical outfit for them from top to bottom.

For her normal duties as historian, she wears simple dresses common to Ferelden fashion as well as blouses and skirts. For more formal affaires she wears one the many dresses Vivienne had made for her that incorporates Orlesian, Fereldan, and Free Marcher styles. For when she explores the caverns below Skyhold or travels away from the keep, she prefers typical traveling clothes and pants over skirts.

Most of her clothes are shades of light blue which Cullen said matches her eyes. She also wears purple in various shades being as it is her favorite color.

What names or nicknames have they been called throughout their life?

Nyssa and Nys. Most of her friends have called her Nyssa at some point in her life. Nys is only used by Cullen. He has also been known to use the endearment “sweetling” after they began their relationship.

What is their method of manipulation?

Anyssa isn’t known for manipulating anyone out right. Most of the time, she will rephrase an argument point to make the other party believe they are making a choice freely. This is not something she employs with people she is friends with or allied with. It a trick she holds in reserve when dealing with unreasonable nobles, especially when she has been called on to aid Josephine.

However, she is not above manipulating Cullen to either ensure he does not take on too much or because she would like some private time with him. A bright smile and repeatedly saying ‘please’ usually works. The first time Cullen realized he could not say no to her was when she asked to see a real dragon. In the end, he gifted her a stuffed dragon she named Puff and then took her to Crestwood to see the dragon there (from a safe distance of course.)

Describe their daily routine.

Anyssa’s routine various from day to day depending on the work load and what other duties she’s been tasked with. Normally, she holds any meetings in the morning and she makes time to watch the sparring ring from the battlements (especially if Cullen is participating). After that she may conduct any research she can on historical items the Inquisition has acquired and writes any correspondence to allies that might have knowledge she does not. She frequently checks in with Dagna in the Undercroft and reports the archanist’s progress to those interested. (Most people tend to shy away from Dagna but Anyssa finds her fascinating and funny.) She often finds Cullen for lunch and reminds him to eat. Her afternoons might involve cataloging artfifacts and tomes recovered in the hopes of returning them to their proper owners. If time allows, she can be found exploring and mapping the caverns and tunnels below Skyhold much to Cullen’s dismay. Throughout her day though, Anyssa has learned to work in time for her friends as well as for herself (though it has been a struggle in learning to do so)

Their go-to cure for a bad day?

There a several different answers to this. One is Sera. Both Anyssa and the Red Jenny enjoy pranks. Frequently Anyssa may provide the idea or inspiration while Sera carries out the actual pranks itself.

Horseback riding alone or with Cullen.

Playing Wicked Grace with Varric and/or Bull, Blackwall, and the Chargers. (Drinking and storytelling maybe involved.)

Reading a book with Cullen.

GOALS:

How are they dissatisfied with their life?

Overall, Anyssa is exceedingly happy with her life in Thedas. It is something she never thought to have again after her parents death and the abusive relationship with her ex-boyfriend. She had friends, a family, a career, someone to love her (whom she loves with all her heart), and a new purpose in life. If there was one thing that she would be dissatisfied with, it would be the knowledge that despite all the good the Inquisition did there will still be people who still cling to the old ways. In other words, she wishes that everyone could find the acceptance and support she has found but knows that the old ways are easier for some to hold onto instead of embracing change.

What would bring them true happiness or contentment?

Finally realizing that she did nothing wrong and it was not her fault that anyone left her or treated her poorly. Those were decisions made by others and she is not responsible for that. Cullen has aided her greatly in making progress with this but it is a struggle she will always have. But then again she has found a support network and love, so in the end she is already happy/content.

What definitive step could they take to turn their dream into a reality?

This is something Anyssa initially struggled with. Cullen was the first to admit he loved her and it took seven months before she could say it back. After that, they talked circles around making concrete plans about their future. Finally, they decided to just make the plans as they went (making a list of things they wanted.) When Cullen decided to start a Templar sanctuary after retirement, that solidified things. Now all that remains to be done is see the Inquisition through to the end and then begin their future.

How has their fear kept them from taking this action already?

Her past relationship colored how she reacted to Cullen’s affections and made her question whether she could trust his words. (she learned to trust his actions first and then his words)

Haven and Skyhold were the places she first felt welcomed in Thedas, like she had a real home again.

She questioned whether she could be lead historian in a world she knew nothing of, questioning even the skills she had learned on Earth.

How do they feel they can accomplish their goal while still steering clear of the thing they are afraid of?

Anyssa has decided to focus on what she can do in the present and prepare for the future she wants. She has begun making plans for how to transfer her skills to a slightly different career path aft her the conclusion of the Inquisition and has told Cullen she will support his dream of a Templar sanctuary while pursuing her own path. To ensure that happens, she will more than likely rely on Cullen for reminders to believe in herself and trust that she knows what she is doing. In the end, it all comes down to trust for Anyssa and her Commander is the one she trusts the most.

Tagging @commanderadorkable, @shadoedseptmber, @raflesia65, @noire-pandora and anyone else who would like to play! No pressure, just fun!

[jawritter]

When The Lights Go Out

Chapter 12 (Final)

Summary: Life hasn’t been your best friend lately, you lost your job, and are on the verge of losing your apartment. Who knew when you decided to join a Sugar Daddy app that your best friend suggested ina last ditch effort to save your apartment, and not end up on the street, your first and only client would turn your whole world upside down.

Pairing: Mobster!Dean Winchester x Virgin! Reader

Word count: 1306

Series Warnings: Mob level violence, injured Dean, description of injury, creepy Godfather John Winchester, John is pretty much a douche bag, escort services, virgin reader, lose of virginity and all the insecurities and fun stuff that come with it, age gap (23 year old reader; 40 year old Dean), angst, unrequited/requited love?, language, smut, unprotected smut.

Chapter Warnings: Smut, fluffy smut, mentions of character death, that’s about it. Maybe some language.

A/N: Beta’d by @deanwanddamons! Thanks so much love!! Please don’t copy my work!! Feedback is golden! Hope you all enjoy this one!! It’s gonna be a little bit of a slow burn y’all, but just hang in there!

(This fic is based on this request: Could you do a Dean x reader where she is 23 and lives alone in her apartment, she gets fired and can loose her house, her friend tells her about a sugar daddy app, she makes a profile and Dean 40, contacts her, she is virgin and don’t offers sex, Dean is billionaire business man and needs a girl for his business parties,the reader is really shy, blushes a lot, they fall in love, he takes her to a trip and makes love to her on a private island, could it be a series?)

Want more? Check out my masterlist!!

***MASTERLIST***

***SERIES MASTERLIST***

***BECOME A PAREON***

18 months later

The warm water lapped against the ghost white sand as the light from the full moon stretched out  as far as the eye could see over the water’s surface. The warm, thick air seemed to hang lower, hugging your body better than any blanket or coat that New York City could provide you with. 

The sand felt warm under your feet as you made your way to the water's edge, even though the sun had gone down long ago, letting the waves wash up and lap at your feet as you stared out into the open. Your mind was on all the things that had happened to you this past year, and how it had changed you.

Sure, there were moments you weren’t proud of, hell that’s just life in general, but there were some moments you’d treasure forever. 

Like yesterday’s wedding for example. 

Yesterday you had finally taken that leap, and said I do to the man that had quickly become your best friend. 

Dean’s arms slipped around your waist, pulling you against his solid chest, his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear in a way that sends sparks right down your spine.

“It’s so peaceful here. I wish we could stay here forever.” you tell him, leaning your head against his broad shoulder as his lips made a trail from your ear to the pulsepoint of your throat before nipping at the skin there.

“No rush to leave sweetheart. Sam’s got everything covered back home, and he needs the distraction right now, so let’s let him run things from there, and I’ll just give orders when I need to from here. That’s the beauty of being in charge, you get to do whatever the fuck you want.” 

Dean’s breath brushed warm against your overheating skin, warmth that had nothing to do with the warm weather as his hands tightened their grip on your hips. 

Poor Sam had been through a lot this last year. Jess’s passing in what was a freak accident involving a taxi cab, one that Sam still insisted had something to do with the remnants of The Knights Of Hell, even though there was no evidence to prove it. He had refused to take a day off since her funeral, always searching for proof that her passing was anything but accidental. 

There was nothing you and Dean could do to convince him otherwise, so you just left him to it. Running things while Dean was gone on his honeymoon might do him some good, give him something else to focus on.

One of Dean’s large hands made its way from your lips to your stomach, ghosting over the skin there, and making you shiver slightly. 

“Did I tell you that you look beautiful tonight princess.” Dean said, his lips traveling down your shoulder, leaving little love bites all along the way.

“Did I ever tell you that you need your vision checked?” you tease him, causing him to jab lightly at your  side, and you to fall into a cascade of giggles. 

“Get that sexy little ass inside baby girl, Daddy needs to tuck you in properly.” Dean growled in your ear, giving your hips a squeeze as your breath caught in your throat, his tone alone sending a wave of arousal soaring through your body, and landing somewhere deep in your core.

“Yes sir,” you tell him in your most innocent voice, pulling another deep growl from his chest as he lifts you into his arms as if you weighed nothing at all, carrying you bridal style across the beach, and into the house, laying you down on the bed where you first made love so long ago. 

His body came down over your own as clothes hit the floor, nothing at all left in between the two of you. 

His teeth trailed your throat before he made his way down your body, stopping at each breast, his lips sealing around each one, sucking and pulling with his teeth until you were a moaning mess underneath him, and he was just getting started. 

His lips brushed over the skin of your stomach, as he continued his way down your body, leaving little nips as he went, making his way down each thigh before trailing his tongue back up your body, purposely avoiding where you needed him most until you were practically begging for his touch. 

When his tongue finally made one swift pass through your soaking folds you all but came right there, his name falling from your lips like a prayer as he ate at you like a man having his last meal. Your fingers weave their way through his light brown hair as your body desperately tries to get him closer to you, needing more, until it was almost too much, and your legs were shaking around him. 

Slipping two fingers inside of you easily, Dean starts to slowly pump in and out of you, adding to your delirium until you went plummeting over the edge with a scream. By the time you came down from your high Dean was crawling his way back up your body like a predator stalking his prey, his muscles rippling just under the surface of his skin with every calculated movement. 

Soft lips meet yours in a kiss that was captivating, and intoxicating  as he lined himself up with your entrance, sliding home without resistance, both of you groaning as your walls flutter around him in the remnants of the release he’d just given you before Dean started to pump into you, slowly at first before pushing himself into you at a punishing pace.

This was how it always was you and Dean, so intense, so needy, too much and at the same time not enough. Fingers leaving bruises on your thighs as he grips you tightly, pulling your body as close to him as possible as he continues to collide into you. Nails leaving scratch marks over his shoulders and back as you desperately try to ground yourself as he works you higher and higher until you are teetering on the edge, begging him to take you over. 

When your orgasm finally hits you, you come with a silent scream as he fills you with his warm seed, your walls milking him until you both collapse on the bed. His body weight on top of yours, comforting you, grounding you to what matters, him. 

Sometimes in the life the two of you lived there were true horrors. There may have never been a boogie man in your closet, or a monster under your bed. Those were all things you imagined as a kid, those things you thought were evil. 

No these monsters come in the form of man, and they worked to take everything away from you as often as they could. 

Dean made sure they never got that far, protecting you and the rest of his family. This may have not been the life you had chosen, and the universe seemed to have brought you together against all odds, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

When you were a little kid you were afraid of the dark. Now you looked forward to when the lights went out, and it was just you and Dean, shutting out the world, and all it’s problems that went with it.

No matter what comes tomorrow, what problem, what disaster, whatever, you had tonight, and that’s what you would do. Just like Dean said after Azazel was dealt with, tomorrow’s problems could take care of themselves, as long as you had Dean, that’s all you’d ever need. 

As long as you had that man you could walk through fire together, you were sure of it, and that’s just how you will deal with whatever the future holds. 

Together.

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

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[readerinsertfanfiction]

Okay okay i know i said the last request was the last request buuuuut🥺🥺🥺❤❤😳 like...... first of all i am obsessed with that series u tagged me in! Omw i am halfway through and grinning like a fool! Freaken eeeeep😳❤❤❤☺☺ Nemo darling u made my sparkle friday not only sparkle but shine!❤❤❤🌈🥺🥺 and that lil theo fic u released ❤❤❤❤🌈😳😳 Freaken swoooooons❤❤☺ hehehe like omw😳😳😳 anyways! Looks like i got carried away☺ //debates whether to carry on with original plan or not🤔🤔

Hehehe yolo here we go

Could i pretty please with sprinkles ontop

Request a fic featuring Theo van Gogh

The fics ive read have inspired

An ask i hope will transpire

Hehe okay ill stop lolol darling nemo could i pretty please request a lil fic with my darling theo❤☺ reciting some poetry hehehe i love how they just glanced over this in his route but like omw how freaken sweet and cute❤❤❤😳😳😳😳😳😳😳☺🥺 prefect man i swear!❤❤❤😳🥺

Love u lots dear! Hope u are taking care of yourself! Folding all the origami! Taking plenty of breaks and eating all the candy hehehe🥺❤❤🍨🍨🍨🍨🍨

DUTCH POETRY? Dutch poetry. I’m glad that you liked the series! I haven’t been able to sit down yet and read it, but the synopsis was really promising! 🥺🥺🥺

Hahaha, Theo would love you for the poetry! (●♡∀♡) And I adore you for always leaving me nice messages and giving me inspiration! (*˘︶˘*).｡*♡

Stay sparkly Zeta-dearest and I shall take all the rest I need knowing that I can be at peace with a darling like you around! (*＾3＾)/～♡

Fandom: Ikemen Vampire

Character: Theodor(k)us van Gogh

Prompt: Will I ever stop calling Theo, Theodorkus? Never. But the poem here is called ‘Zie je ik hou van je’ by Herman Gorter who was part of a literary/arts revolution in the Netherlands back around the time that Theo would have been alive. I like to think that Ikevamp’s Theo would approve of the man. 

That Theo was a lover of poetry was no secret other than it being an underrated fact. The framework of literature, he had called it, for it was poetry that spoke a thousand thoughts in a single word, and painted the pictures with even less. It was poetry in its earliest forms that brought forth the writers' hand and and nurtured an artists’ soul. And with the new development coming from his homeland, with the new thought developing that moved away from the old purpose of religion, Theo was all the more eager to follow and support. 

And his favourites were, as you had guessed, romantic ones. Those that described love to him, for Theo had so much of it to give. Though he hid it well, teasing with that mocking smile of his and his little endearments hidden and translated into insulting names. It made you all the more eager to ask him for a recital. For serenading he was unlikely to do, but reciting was just a question away, a request from you to him. 

When you asked Theo for a love poem the man had hesitated little, his hands clasping around your face as he pulled you closer. A twinge of mischief could be read in his face. But there was affection mostly when he held you in his gaze, thumbs running over your cheekbones as if he was about to pinch, smiling wider at the flush that built up underneath his fingers. 

[Zie je ik hou van je, (See I love you)

ik vin’ je zo lief en zo licht - (I find you so dear and so bright -)

je ogen zijn zo vol licht, (your eyes are so full of light,)

ik hou van je, ik hou van je. (I love you, I love you.)]

The words were straightforward, though still a little foreign in your ears. But it was the tone in which he whispered these words that told all of what you should know and understand about how he felt. His cool blue eyes were warm, shimmering in all what he held for you, never allowing you to escape his gaze. And as he continued he leaned in, reciting the next passage as his lips fluttered over your nose, your lips and then to your hair, in that order, the words fluttering after; 

[En je neus en je mond en je haar (And your nose and your mouth and your hair)

en je ogen en je hals waar (and your eyes and your neck where)

je kraagje zit en je oor (your collar is and your ear)

met je haar er voor. (covered by your hair.]

Your eyes were not forgotten before Theo's head dipped and he parted his lips, fangs grazing over your neck. It earned a strangled noise from you whose body responded to the promise of pleasure if he just sunk in his teeth. He didn't bite, however. Instead he moved over to your ear and kissed its shell. Deft fingers followed as he pulled out a strand of your hair and kissed that as well before returning to the spot beneath your ear, mumbling the words that belonged to the poem. 

You didn't need a serenade, or even a translation to know what the Dutchman said or felt. Not when Theo was carving every word into your skin, every move of his lips and hush of whisper followed with another fervent kiss. A confession of his love on repeat was what followed as he captured you in his arms, not intending to depart from you, or the couch on which you sat. 

[Zie je ik wou graag zijn (See I wish to be)

jou, maar het kan niet zijn, (you, but cannot be)

het licht is om je, je bent (the light surrounds you, you are)

nu toch wat je eenmaal bent. (who you are meant to be)]

[O ja, ik hou van je, (Oh yes, I love you)

ik hou zo vrees'lijk van je, (I love you so much)

ik wou het helemaal zeggen - (I wish I could say is all -)

Maar ik kan het toch niet zeggen. (but I cannot say it)]

[atinybitofau]

S E O N G H W A ⥈ mafia au series

RECAP: you finally have to close the deal with the devil and you meet with Hongjoong one last time before becoming a married woman. you also decide to postpone a honeymoon for another time.

word count: 2010+ , tags: angst

characters: ateez (ensemble), fem!reader

⤩ CHAPTER 2 ⤩

character list . prologue . one

Turns out Jongho had a thing for weeding out the imperfections, flaws in a woman. It was easy for him, arriving no later than 11 in the morning to join both you and San after your dress fitting to do your hair.

“I can fix the hair.” The city turned country gangster’s lips grimace at the dark bags under your drooping eyes. “The makeup.. you’ll have to do on your own, sweetheart.”

You clutch on the silver necklace he’s handed you before he put his hands on your head, the thought of blessing Seonghwa with an engagement gift beyond your intentional rights. You play with the small compass charm between your fingers and gaze at your reflection in the mirror.

So you look like complete shit: lack of sleep, lack of encouragement, lack of pride. This was you in your most pitiful state and the boys could only spare mercy in your absence of excitement. You’ve always dreamed about family and weddings— the trends in modern life you were never entitled to try. Seonghwa was already giving you parts of the world you’ve always wanted and you couldn’t hate him for that. The arrangement however was something you’ll have to hold against him.

“You look beautiful.” Yunho nods in your direction after Jongho fluffs at your curled hair. “Y/n, you do. Now stop frowning and making it worse.”

You let out an upheaval sigh. “Remind me again why I have to dress up for such a casual occasion.”

San scoffs from the side still nitpicking his sleek suit. “This is your wedding, y/n. Have some respect for yourself. It’s the least you can do.”

“It’s a wedding with a man I don’t even want. And he said so himself this was more a partnership than ties of love.” You force yourself to retort in the nicest way possible. “Seonghwa has good intentions and that’s great. But my place in his heart is not something I earned and I’m far from pleased.”

“You rather woo Seonghwa? Then do it, at least, after your wedding.” Yunho charmingly places his chin over your shoulder to face you in the mirror. “This wedding is passed formalities but something he sought good for the both of you. He wants you to feel comfortable and that’s leeway enough to your heart. Accept it as it is and maybe you won’t get shot.”

You hear it so many times, you ponder over thought of maybe wanting to get shot at this point. Why was Seonghwa so prideful? What else was he hiding?

“The day he ever wants to shoot me is the day I end this partnership of his he claims is good for the both of us.”

The trio behind you pause in their movements and let your answer sink in. It’s not everyday they get to see a woman get ready to marry a man they assume to be their best friend. It certainly isn’t every day they get to see a woman as beautiful as you sit in front of them with a personality as fierce as their empty hearted boss. Although they’re intimidated, they feel a particular sense of relief knowing you’re fully aware of your circumstances. They didn’t sign up for meddling in an innocent life though you’re far from innocent.

“We have to meet some of our partners..” San clears his throat as you fumble with the jewelery in your hand. “I’m sure you won’t mind if we leave you with your thoughts for a bit.”

“Not at all.” please.

They hum in response before setting out prompt, your thoughts a little more blind in your head than they think. You look in the mirror after they leave and think to yourself that you’re just a penny of satisfaction. The best way for you to accept all this is to breathe and let it go. It’s gotten you this far.

“I hope I’m not interrupting.” A voice echoes through the slit of the door. “If you haven’t tried killing yourself already.”

Your eyes light up like a child on Christmas Day. “Hongjoong.”

His lips quirk at your tone of admiration. “You look beautiful, babe.”

Your own lips quiver and you’reholding back the years of tears. “Can you hug me please? Just this once?”

He sighs softly before coming over to take you into his arms. The homey embrace of someone you trusted— no someone who trusts you was enough to end some misery. The one thing Seonghwa could grant you that you’d thank him for was this. Hongjoong was far from what you deserve but he’s someone you wished you could have. Life served you another platter and you can’t just complain and ask for a refund.

“Of all the years I’ve known you, y/n, seeing you in a wedding gown would be the last thing I’d ever imagine.”

You roll your eyes at the city mobster before turning in your chair. “I’m surprised he let you imagine let alone show up today.”

Hongjoong presses his lips together and fumbles with his tie. “There’s a lot of things you’d be surprised by.”

You sniffle mostly to undermine all the overwhelming thoughts in your head. Hongjoong sees right through you though.

“I’m sure Seonghwa’s got good intentions. Despite the fact, obviously, I’m not all for the things he does—Beyond what he does, y/n, he’s a good guy.”

You scoff his way, looking elsewhere in your reflection afraid of his words.

“Are you here to patronize the enemy some more or walk me down the aisle?”

He chuckles wholeheartedly, coming over to plant a reassuring kiss on the top of your head. Where your father lacked, Hongjoong picked up. You can’t name a single man— no person on this planet who has made you whole enough as Hongjoong does and maybe why Seonghwa is threatened. Hongjoong is a force no one is reckoned to feel accustomed to. The city monster had ties everywhere. Feeling sorry for your father was one thing; feeling sorry for you was little of what the truth was.

“You are a gem.” He annunciations through a genuine smile. “Be it Seonghwa nor I aren’t lucky to have. You’re a blessing.”

You look into Hongjoong’s eyes with a type of everlasting loyalty you can’t define. “How can you be okay with Seonghwa having me? I was already yours..”

“Your father was mine and I let you have the benefit of the doubt.” His comment sharpens at the end.

“Losing him was nothing but means to end for you. Don’t act like it was more than that.” You try to rebuttal.

“It was something I didn’t like but it sure as hell made you happy. And so I heard.”

Hongjoong’s very casual. He likes to be hands on in a moment and is, trend wise, very different from your future husband. It’s not like you loved Hongjoong romantically or anything. It just felt wrong to need to love someone else that’s all.

“Walk down the aisle.” He whispers again against the crown of your ear, hand hovering over your bare shoulders with hesitance and grace. “I’ll always be right here when you need me the most.”

It’s some misdirection partly. Also partly your fault that you’ve gotten here. Now you’re walking down an aisle with Southside’s very own devil standing at the alter awaiting you. You don’t look back on purpose. That and Hongjoong’s grip right beside is not one on par with a fatherly gesture. Hongjoong probably wanted to wring Seonghwa for what it’s worth too.

“Past formalities?” Hongjoong mumbles when you two get one step closer to the end of your suicide mission.

“Definitely past that.”

“Knock em dead, sweetheart.”

Let the party commence.

There was little shared words between you, your new husband, and the pastor. With what seemed like false devotion and empty promises, the wedding reception began. You two sat together on a podium where it’s pretty obvious Seonghwa’s treated like royalty. You were right in his district and with first impressions comes clear boundaries to be made. He wanted you to know where he stands. You two sat together as husband and wife but complete strangers. It was awkward watching the sight of men come and go to prove that Seonghwa was nothing but a merciless mafia boss. The gifts weren’t even of your benefit either.

Hongjoong left early (something you’ll press against him some other day forward) and you were stuck thinking about when this cursed day was going to end. Somehow someway it did and you were in a car fraternizing with the enemy this time.

“— So you married me instead?”

The air gets thick. It almost gets so thick you think you’re getting some type of allergic reaction to his face in the confinement of his wide vehicle. Staring at him was no gut wrenching eye sore but it’s not something you were used to just yet. Seonghwa’s eyes matched the color of war— red with fury and relent. There was something there that his calm tone didn’t quite express to it’s fullest capability.

“You’d rather be dead?”

His coldness reflected on you. It’s probably your body’s natural mechanism of defense coming to play because you’re sure as hell you’re not gonna let some man control you for the rest of your life. No, you may not get that right to speak up and say something that might as well get you killed but you still aren’t gonna let him walk all over you.

“Are you gonna get out of your dress or did you want me to strip you out of it for you instead?”

His tone persists as he emerges from the bathroom to see you sitting on solemn. You glance up tiredly at the cheeky bastard who’s lips perk at your attention. You look away without a word at all before taking your dress off without further notice.

His throat clams up at the sight, unsure of how long his self constraint would last even for the night. The sight of your broadened narrow shoulders— bare and ready to taste— was something he was definitely not prepared for. His hands tremble as the damp towel between his fingers drops and you glance to look at him.

“Tempted?” You rasp in the most taunting voice you could fabricate. “Mind me, but you asked if I was going to get out of my dress, Seonghwa. I’m showing you that I can follow basic instructions, was that not what you asked of me? Of this partnership.”

He chokes on that, jaw clenched. “Pressing my buttons, honey, is not something I suggest you test.”

You hold your dress up back to your chest as you turn to face him. “I’m just letting you know what kind of wife you gambled to marry, my sweet husband.”

He nearly screams the moment you slam the bathroom door. Not realizing on both sides that either of you were ready to combust. You shower the anger, the resentment away and Seonghwa just lays back on his bed staring at the bathroom door.

He needs to stay away from you at any time possible. Until he learns to control himself at least. Living with a woman, a woman of his absurd dreams, was proving itself difficult. You weren’t just gonna give yourself up to him just like that either.

“Sleep. You have a busy day tomorrow.” Is all he says before turning on his back when you shut the lights off.

You stare at it. Like the night before when he got in bed without even saying a word, feeling cold.

“J-Just me?” You ask propped still on your elbow in the dark.

“I have business to take care of in the city. You’ll have San and Yunho tomorrow.” His voice lulls deeper as he’s getting pulled to his exhaustion. “It’s training you have to endure just in case. Hongjoong informed me you never took part in your father’s extravaganza’s and I need to know my wife is safe while I leave.”

“You want me to learn how to fight?”

“Something like that..”

@atinybitofau

[terramythos]

TerraMythos 2021 Reading Challenge - Book 15 of 26

Title: Tehanu (Earthsea Cycle #4) (1990)

Author: Ursula K. Le Guin

Genre/Tags: Fantasy, Fiction, Third-Person, Female Protagonist 

Rating: 8/10

Date Began: 6/24/2021

Date Finished: 6/30/2021

Decades after The Tombs of Atuan, Tenar decided to settle down and live an ordinary life on the shepherding Isle of Gont. Now a farmer’s widow, she adopts a disfigured and horrifically abused child, who she names Therru. When a giant dragon deposits a grief-stricken Ged at her doorstep, Tenar finds herself in a strange situation as she cares for her old friend and her adopted daughter. But threats from Therru’s past and a malevolent force on the island soon threaten Tenar’s small family. 

Despair speaks evenly, in a quiet voice.

Content warnings and spoilers below the cut.

Content warnings for the book: Violence and death. Mentioned murder. Severe child abuse. Descriptions of traumatic injury and disfigurement. Mentions of r*pe, including of children. Trauma, sexism, and ableism are explored in depth. 

Tehanu is a much different book than the trilogy that precedes it. Perhaps this is unsurprising, considering the 17-year gap between this book and The Farthest Shore. I’d describe the Earthsea series as “grounded fantasy”. While all of them take place in a magical world, the thesis of each book is universal; the fantasy always comes second. Tehanu takes this idea to an extreme. The story is about everyday life as a common woman in the Earthsea world, with fantasy barely factoring in. The pacing is intentionally slow and introspective, which is something I normally don’t like, but Le Guin is a consistent exception. 

Key characters from the previous books make an appearance. Obviously Tenar is the biggest return, absent since The Tombs of Atuan. The Tenar in this book is older and much more mature, having decided to live a simple life in spite of her adventures and accomplishments. Ged returns, but he’s a shell of his former self, as he mourns the loss of his magic and the man he used to be. Even King Lebannen (formerly Arren, the main character of The Farthest Shore) makes a brief appearance, and is quite a palate cleanser after the horrible men throughout the rest of the book.  

Probably my favorite aspect of the novel is the fact that these characters stand well on their own without magic to prop them up. Tenar explored the terrifying freedom she won in The Tombs of Atuan; got married, settled down, had kids — but still finds herself at a loss on what to do with her life after her husband dies. Ged is in a similar boat; he’s gone from an almost mythic character to an ordinary man, and like Tenar finds himself at a crossroads in life. Other characters embody this idea of transformation and uncertainty; Therru’s escaped her abusers and now has a loving mother, but what does the future hold for someone with her appearance? Stuff like that. 

The idea of metamorphosis and new beginnings is well-trodden. But what makes Tehanu interesting is Le Guin primarily examines this with the middle-aged characters. Tenar and Ged are legendary figures in the world of Earthsea, but life has taken them to an uncertain future. The thrust of the novel lies in finding a purpose and becoming someone new. I also like that Tenar/Ged is endgame; I got Vibes from The Tombs of Atuan, but neither character was in a position where it would work. Seeing them form a romantic relationship much later in life is touching and cute. But it’s not the reason that either of them grow as people; finding one’s purpose is something one has to do on their own. Their relationship only develops once both parties have done so.   

My main complaint about A Wizard of Earthsea, the first book, is the sexism inherent in the setting, which is never examined below the surface level. Perhaps Le Guin’s outlook changed, or perhaps the publishing environment did, because often Tehanu reads like a response to this criticism. The central theme of the book is misogyny, the patriarchy, and its debilitating effects on women. Le Guin examines everything from micro-aggressions (“common wisdom” that happens to paint women as inferior) to domestic issues (“women’s work” and how much that actually is) to outright sexual assault (both in threats and actual acts; it is heavily implied this is part of the abuse Therru endured). She even goes into how powerful women are only considered as such because a man gave them that power. 

While I appreciate the fact she addresses these issues in such a frank, blatant way, at times reading Tehanu felt like reading a basic feminism primer. These subjects are all things I’m familiar with, and I feel like anyone who’s studied key feminist ideas would be aware of them also. Maybe 1990 was different? Le Guin doesn’t add any insights to the bleak reality of patriarchy and sexism, which is a little disappointing compared to previous books. That being said, this book is aimed at young adults despite its dark subject matter. Tehanu could be the first exposure to these ideas that many children receive; looking at it that way, it makes sense that the analysis comes off as basic. 

I also found the book’s examination of gender to be very cishet-normative. That’s definitely not surprising, considering the book was published in 1990, but to a 2021 reader this hasn’t aged super well. There’s a lot of discussion about the relationships and differences between men and women--whether there are any or not, how magic differs between them, the ability to bear children, and so on. There’s a weird sexual component to this, like how wizards (who are exclusively men) have to remain celibate in order to… keep being wizards? But women who are witches don’t have to do that, and that’s an advantage women have? (There’s mentions of male witches too, iirc, but it’s not expanded upon— do they have to remain celibate? Who knows.). I found this whole bit pretty odd and unnecessary, although I realize a lot of my perspective on the matter comes from a modern view of sex and gender (and, y’know, being trans). Not all the gender takes in the book are bad, but they are limited. 

I found Le Guin’s exploration of trauma and ableism through Therru to be more interesting. There’s a lot of examination about how society treats Therru, a survivor of unspeakable abuse. Her trauma is visible due to severe burns along part of her body, leaving her with a missing eye and disfigured hand. Tenar spends much of the novel wondering what future Therru has; no matter how capable she is and how much she acts like any other little girl, strangers gawk at her, or assume she “deserved” what happened to her. Therru becomes happier and more independent over the course of the novel, but relapses into a traumatized state when she encounters one of her abusers. As a survivor, it’s heartbreaking and distressingly realistic. As much as I like Tenar, I almost wish the novel was from Therru’s perspective (other than the brief jump at the end), but I realize it would spoil the ending.  

I’m torn on the ending because, while I thought it was cool and had some interesting revelations, it’s a jarring tonal shift. As I mentioned, Tehanu is a slow novel with a heavy focus on everyday life, and the trials and tribulations both Tenar and Therru experience. There’s even a climactic event a few chapters before the end; the only thing left is a persistent loose thread from earlier in the novel. That subplot explodes to the forefront a bare chapter and a half before the end of the book, and a lot of action-y fantasy stuff happens. It doesn’t come out of nowhere; it’s set up throughout the novel, but it is sudden. 

That being said, I do like that the subplot with dragons vs humans is hinted at as early as The Tombs of Atuan. When Tenar tells the legend about the origin of dragons early in the story, my mind immediately went to that one room from the Labyrinth with the sad winged humanoids painted on its walls. I’m curious if there are hints elsewhere in the series. I also figured out Therru’s true name and how she relates to that subplot based on context clues. While it’s not a shocking twist, it is a satisfying one. Though parts of it gave me a “magical destiny” vibe which is counter to much of the series so far; I do wonder how the last two books will address this. (Also… did Le Guin imply Kalessin is Segoy? AKA God? What did she mean by this. So Ged literally like… hitched a ride from God, who promptly yeeted out of the story until the end? That’s kind of funny. Maybe I misinterpreted something.) 

I probably sound critical of this book, but I did genuinely enjoy it. It just didn’t speak to me the way the previous two did. The next book is a short story collection before the conclusion to the series, so we’ll see where it goes! Tehanu set some stuff up that I expect will be expanded upon in these volumes.

[mcfiddlestan]

Fic Writer Questions

I'm bored and this was in a note on my phone from forever ago, so I must have been tagged at some point. Apologies to whoever tagged me. 🥴

1) How many works do you have on AO3?

52. Though, I used to have a few more. I deleted a few fics some years ago bc I hated that they were just sitting there unfinished. I was going through a particularly brutal bout of writer's block that affected both my fic writing and my RP writing.

2) What's your total AO3 word count?

720,782. And I was stressing about a 30-page thesis. 😂 (which ended up being over 15,000 words)

3) How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

I started writing fic in 2000 with *NSYNC, Christina Aguilera, and Backstreet Boys fics. I stopped writing a bit around 2004-2007 (because of a stupid boy) and picked it up again in 2012 after reading some awesome Cherik fics and wanting to write my own FrostIron College AU when I read one that was good, but kind of disturbing. I think I write for one fandom -- Marvel -- but, like different factions of it. FrostIron and WinterFrost mostly, with a dash of Stucky, ThunderFrost, DashingFrost, and WinterIron.

4) What are your Top 5 fics by kudos?

Black Light Special (WinterFrost) - 628 kudos

Can I Bum A Ride? (WinterFrost) - 425 kudos

Empire State of Mind (FrostIrom) - 420 kudos

Dark Side (FrostIron) - 398 kudos

A Worthy Collection (FrostIron) - 309 kudos

5) Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

I really do make an effort to respond to every single comment, even the not-so-nice ones. I want people to know I've seen and read the comment they took the time to post, so even if I just thank them for reading and commenting, I respond.

6) What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

Considering it features two -- count 'em, two! -- major character deaths, it's definitely Empire State of Mind. Though, I'd argue Dark Side is a pretty close second.

7) What's the fic you've written with the happiest ending?

Probably Ghosts That We Knew. It was the final fic in the trilogy that is the Picture Perfect Series. It follows Loki and Tony from when they meet in college and ends 30+ years later.

8) Do you write crossovers? If so, what is the craziest one you've written?

No, not really. And I rarely, if ever, read them. There's no real reason behind it other than I've just never come upon one and thought "ooh I need to read that."

9) Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Yes. I got a lot of hateful messages after I completed Empire State of Mind. People were really angry at me for killing off two major characters. I mean, a lot of the messages were "omg I hate you but I loved this!" kind of vibe. But there were a few that cussed me out and called me names for writing it.

I had some chapters of a Fools Rush In FrostIron AU posted a while ago, in which Loki was a female, the only daughter in both the Odinson and Laufeyson families. Following the storyline of the Matthew Perry/Salma Hayek movie, Loki meets Tony Stark in a bar and gets pregnant from a one night stand. Anyway, I got a lot of messages telling me that Odin's misogyny and mistreatment of Loki was unrealistic -- even though I had literally modeled his behavior after the movie that inspired it. 🤷🏽

I have some prompts done for the 100 Ways to Say ILY writer's block challenge and for one of them, I borrowed the storyline from an episode of Will & Grace when Will's father dies of a heart attack after they have a bad argument where his father basically admits he wished Will wasn't gay so he could have had an easier life. In the epsiode, the fight starts because Will's parents gift his baby blanket to Grace, who is pregnant with her ex-husband's child. Will takes offense, they don't understand why bc he never mentioned wanting children, and a fight ensues. Similarly, in my fic, Frigga and Odin offer a pregnant Natasha (his BFF) Loki's blanket. Some readers did not like this and did not understand why I would write it. In another prompt, one that was literally how my last relationship ended, got some harsh critiques. Those ones hurt especially bc it was such a personal experience I wrote about.

And I actually got into a fight -- like a screaming match -- IRL with my best friend's boyfriend at the time. One of my bestie's friends asked about my fanfiction and I gave them the gist of one of my stories where Loki has a brief relationship with Sif that results in a child and later reconnects with Tony. Later on, Sif offers to be a surrogate for Tony and Loki and eventually births three more children for them. Bestie's boyfriend could not fathom why a woman would purposely get herself impregnated and then give the child away. I tried to explain that this was a thing that a lot of women did IRL -- and some don't even use their own eggs, but the eggs of a woman who cannot conceive; Sif used her own eggs so that all four children were half related (two by Loki, two by Tony). But he just did not believe me and told me I must not be a very good writer. Worst night of my life.

10) Do you write smut?

I was just telling @teadrinkingwolfgirl the other night how when I first started writing fic I did not write sex scenes. It was always inferred or glossed over. When I started writing again in 2012, for FrostIron, it was my first time writing more detailed sex. I cite Jackie Collins as my smut-writing mentor. I've written almost exclusively M/M smut.

11) Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of.

12) Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes! Which is like the best thing ever! A couple of my older fics have been translated to Russian. I have one *NSYNC fic that was made into an audio fic. And someone recently messaged me on ff*net to ask to translate as many of my fics as they can to Spanish. :D

13) Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No, not technically. I've gotten a lot of prompts and ideas from friends and mutuals, and I started reformatting my WinterFrost RP with my ex from 2014-2015 into novel form a while ago. That's tecnically the only thing I've written with someone else and published.

14) What's your all time favorite ship?

I have two that will always, ALWAYS, have my heart and attention. FrostIron (Tony Stark/Loki) and WinterFrost (Bucky Barnes/Loki). They are the two ships that I write the most, read the most, and seek out fanart for the most.

15) What's a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will?

Probably The Flame. It's a fic that starts out ThunderFrost (not related; Asgardian Prince Thor semi-rescues an imprisoned Jotun Prince Loki) but eventually ends up FrostIron. It's the only fic I've ever written that features Loki with both male and female biology. I have a few chapters done but I haven't worked on it in years.

16) What are your writing strengths?

I like to think I write realistic relationships. And I think my dialogue is also realistic and easy to grasp. And I put a lot of humor in between all the angst and hurt.

17) What are your writing weaknesses?

I think I get too detailed with background. I just reread my Picture Perfect series (which I do like once a year), and there are literal paragraphs of background that in Google Docs is like pages and pages. But I want to make sure people understand my characters! LOL

18) What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I'm a big fan of it. I featured a lot of Norwegian in the Picture Perfect series. And French. I think as long as it flows with the storytelling and it's not forced on the characters it can be really cool. It should be natural. I always leave a translation list at the end of the chapter or explain in-text what was said. Which I think most authors I've read do.

19) What was the first fandom you wrote for?

The Backstreet Boys. LOL. Don't judge. I started writing my own fics after discovering BSB fanfiction written by an author named Mistress Lynz. She wrote a lot of fics about bloodletting, but I really enjoyed the fics where the guys were hooking up with each other behind the scenes, LOL explains why I write mostly M/M now. 😂

20) What's your favorite fic you've written?

They're kind of like my babies so at different times different ones are my faves. But if I really had to pick one, I would say Stay With Me is my favorite. I got some of the most amazing comments on this story from people that found meaning and themes in the story that I didn't even realize I'd put in there. It was one of my first WinterFrost fics I'd posted and the response was more than I could have asked for.

And now I have to tag people! @teadrinkingwolfgirl @incredifishface @incubigirl @rabentochter @marvelswinterfrost and whoever else feels up to it.

xoxo

[tobesobri]

𝓦elcome to a brand new story from me that I never thought I would be posting but here we are! This chapter is very much introductory, which is like obvious being the first chapter but tbh I don’t really do a lot of introducing characters right off the bat in a descriptive way often so this was new for me! Also, I have an old taglist from a while ago when I was originally going to post this, but I don’t want to randomly tag people who may no longer be interested SO if you’d like to be included on a taglist for upcoming chapters please let me know! Thank you! 

huge massive thank you to the incredible @youresogolden-h​ for editing ❤️

Chapter One: Where Happiness Begins (5.4k)

Harry and Y/N are friends…. with benefits, but not the kinds you’re thinking of.

🥥MASTERLIST 🌃INSPO TAG 🌻ASK TAG 💃PLAYLIST 🛌

There was something very different when she woke that Saturday morning. Maybe her breath smelled a little worse than normal. Maybe the sun shined a little brighter through her curtains than it was supposed to...

Maybe there was someone in her bed who didn’t belong there. 

“Oh my god.”

Friday night was not unlike every other night that week. There was an endless bag of chips she dug her Hot Cheeto dust covered fingers into and an over-watched series on Netflix open on her laptop in front of her. And when she wasn’t distracted by Sam and Dean Winchester, she was bawling her eyes out under the comfort of her thrifted quilt, staining her poor mismatched pillowcases.

Just like any given night.

And this Friday was no different. At least not until there was a knock on her door.

By the time she dried her face, it was almost completely unnoticeable she’d just been buried in hysterics only seconds ago.

“Harry’s coming over. You want anything from the store?” Will asked, the same Will who stuck them all together in the very beginning of splitting rent on an apartment four different ways.

He was the roommate who paid the most in rent and got the biggest room with his own private bathroom. One of the two roommates who constantly had his significant other over every night to make Y/N’s miserable time even worse. Between Will and Violet’s incessant need to take over the entire living room every weekend, Y/N was bound to end up in her own room alone crying her eyes out for no apparent reason.

Then there was her third roommate, James, who never bothered her because she was lucky to catch a fleeting glimpse of him every other week.

Y/N glanced at the phone he had pressed to his cheek, assuming Harry was on the other end of the line, on hold. Just the mention of his name sucked every sad little tear back into her skull. She didn’t know why, but having Harry around always seemed to do the trick.

Even though she barely spoke a word to him over the course of the last eighteen months she’d known him.

She buried her excitement about Harry coming over and frowned, answering as if she was she couldn’t care less even though... she cared way more than she should. “No.”

And before Will could protest, she shut the door in his face and retreated back to her bed.

Not every night was spent in agonizing spirals of self-pity and dread, but it came and went. Some days were fine. She was happy by the time she went to bed at night and didn’t have nightmares or anxiety that kept her up past her self-proclaimed bedtime. Most days, she ate regularly and went about her nightly routine with a genuine smile on her face. But recently, it had all gone to shit.

And there was no explanation. There never was. She didn’t just break up with a long-term boyfriend. No one called her an ugly bitch on the train home. Her boss didn’t yell at her for the umpteenth time about her inadequacies at work.

She was just... alone. Painfully and tragically alone.

She hated how black and white it was. That she was either happy to be alive or praying for a very large rock to fall on her and end it all. There was never an in-between and it made her feel like all her emotions were made up, like she wasn’t ever truly happy or she was sad over really stupid things.

It was a fucking nightmare.

Another agonizing thirty minutes went by before she heard from Will again. Before she heard more than just her roommate's voice through the thin walls. Before she could literally feel her

brain swell with more serotonin than she’d had in a long time when it was Harry’s voice she heard.

He was like an unusual ray of sunshine. Every time he was over at their apartment, it was like he was some kind of ancient sun god warding off all the evil spirits sitting on her shoulders. Which...she knew was quite strange, but she really couldn’t--nor did she want to--fight off how he made her feel.

Even if he wasn’t an internationally famous pop-sensation, she still couldn’t put her finger on why he made her feel like sunshine and butterflies whenever he was around. Which had been quite often recently on account of his upcoming album needing desperate help from Will.

Okay. She hadn’t heard a damn thing from the album, but the conversations they had about it weren’t always good. It was delayed, apparently, and Harry was in the middle of a massive writing block that led him to an impromptu trip to Barcelona the previous week.

And so now he was back. To work on the album, and, upon Y/N’s quiet arrival into the kitchen of her shared apartment, to pig out on junk food. Will hovered over the kitchen island while they figured out which movie, among a small stack of romantic comedies, to watch first.

Once Harry noticed her, he instantly stood up straight, shoving the last bit of a Kit-Kat bar into his mouth quickly to hide it from her; as if she cared about the Harry Styles munching on chocolate and sweets.

“What’re you doing?” Y/N asked Will, even though Harry was the only one paying her any attention. She didn’t often make eye contact with him, or even speak to him at all for that matter. But Harry was used to it. He was used to her mumbling and her short phrases. The way whenever he looked at her, she always looked away.

“Pretty Woman or Notting Hill?” Will turned to her finally, holding up both DVD boxes in his hands for Y/N to choose from, completely ignoring her previous question.

“Um... I’ve never seen them.”

Will rolled his eyes and placed the Blu-Ray boxes back down on the granite countertop, “Should’ve known that. You only watch scary shit.”

It was quiet after that for a moment. A long moment of Harry awkwardly glancing between Will and Y/N. Though his glances towards her did not come easily. Just the thought of looking at her was like his body went into fight or flight mode. Fight through the nerves and the butterflies in his stomach or fly the hell out of there.

She was like an unfriendly cat who didn’t seem to like him one bit, and it drove him insane. All his attempts to have a normal conversation with her had been fruitless. She never said more than one word to him at a time. Maybe two, if she was feeling generous. He didn’t get it at all, but he got used to it. Maybe she just didn’t have any room in her life for another person and certainly not for a person like him.

“Well, I vote for Pretty Woman,” Will said, making up everyone’s minds for them, and when he glanced at the other two, they didn’t seem to care. “Pretty Woman it is then. Y/N,” Will glanced at her exclusively while he began gathering snacks and the movie, “are you watching it too?”

“Uh.. no.” She continued into the kitchen, walking behind Harry toward the fridge and making every single nerve in his body light up. He had no idea why she, of all people on the planet he’d come into contact with, made him as nervous as she did. But, here he was. Stepping out of her way and swallowing the pit in his throat when he got a whiff of her all-too-familiar coconut scented shampoo.

And that scent just about made his head spin. It took him right back to the night he’d gotten drunk off his ass after a long day of work. She’d offered her bed to him since he was too tall for their couches, and she had been up late working herself anyways. Most of the night had been forgotten, but he very distinctly remembered stuffing his face into her pillowcases and letting the scent of her shampoo completely engulf his nostrils as he fell asleep. And it took him back to the following morning where he wobbled his hungover ass to the shower and accidentally (on purpose) used her coconut scented shampoo.

And then the entire rest of the day he smelled exactly like her and hadn’t gone a single minute without thinking of her. Thinking of her soft voice and what it would feel like to hear her saying his name just once. Thinking about the way she sometimes smiled at him like maybe she didn’t hate him as much as he thought. Thinking about her hair spread over her pillowcase and tucking loose strands behind her ear while she slept peacefully beside him...

Harry was also, very, very alone.

So alone that he spent more nights at other people’s homes, particularly Will’s, than his own. Even though he had an insanely expensive house all to himself up in the gated hills of Los Angeles, it was nothing compared to being surrounded by people he cared about instead of lifeless appliances.

He blamed it on the city. It always had a way of making him feel alienated. Even if it was the city that recognized him most often, it almost made him feel even more alone than he already was. Because none of the people he met along the way really knew him. They weren’t with him at the end of the day when he broke down on the floor in his bathroom. They didn’t see the dark parts of his life where he often wished he could take it all back just to be normal again. To have normal conversations and normal relationships with people he wasn’t constantly paranoid were trying to get something out of him.

So, in a way, he understood Y/N’s unwillingness to let him in, because he did it all the time. The thing he didn’t understand was why she had any reason to worry about the people in her life. No one was out to get her money or make themselves famous off of her. But there was a reason for it anyways, and it just about killed the curious cat in his mind every time he was at her apartment and she continued to not peep a single unnecessary word to him.

By the time he and Will had settled onto their respective spots in the living room, Harry tucked back into the cushions of their armchair and Will spread out on the loveseat opposite him, Y/N had already retreated back into her bedroom with her glass of ice water.

“Think that’s the most I’ve ever heard her talk.” Harry said, while Will skipped through the outdated commercials on the DVD.

Will’s lips turned up into a very knowing grin and he nodded, “She’s always been quiet, man. I told you not to take it personally.”

“How did you get her to talk?”

That was a question Harry had never asked before out of the countless stupid ones he had in the past. The stupidest was probably when he’d first met her and then proceeded to ask Will shortly after if Y/N was mute.

Will shrugged, “I’ve known her for a long time. It’s not like she goes on and on around me either though. That’s just how she is. And she probably just doesn’t like you that much.”

Harry huffed and sat back into his chair, giving up on it. He couldn’t force her to be his friend, as much as he wanted her to be.

The movie went on without Harry because he was completely lost in his own mind, however, Will seemed to be completely enthralled with Julia Roberts. Harry just couldn’t bring himself to focus on the television screen for more than a minute at a time.

It wasn’t until he heard a door down the hall click open that he brought himself back to reality and let his eyes wander to the sound behind him as Y/N stepped quietly out from her bedroom again. He knew she was the only other roommate home tonight and, yet, he still made the mistake of looking in her direction and, fucking finally, locking eyes with her. It was brief, but it was enough to stir up the enormous pot of butterflies in his stomach again.

Without a single word, she sat on the last unoccupied piece of furniture between the both of them, Harry still in a bit of shock and Will grinning with his eyes glued to the screen.

“Changed your mind, did you?” Will asked cheekily.

“Shut up,” she mumbled back at him before reaching toward the opened bag of untouched Hershey kisses. “Can I have one of these?”

Will finally peered over at her from his spot and then glanced at Harry across the coffee table, “You’ll have to ask Harry. He brought them.”

Her hand froze and she reluctantly turned her attention toward Harry, which had been the first time since he arrived that she voluntarily looked at him. She had no fucking clue how she was going to sit there and ask Harry for one of his Hershey kisses. Or if she even wanted them desperately enough.

The question went unasked, but the look on her face said more than enough. She was already waiting for his answer. And upon seeing the look on her face, Harry couldn’t possibly find it in himself to force her to say a damn thing. So he just cleared his throat instead, “Uh, it’s alright. You can have as many as you want.”

He watched as she grabbed a couple foil sealed chocolates and settled back into the corner of her own loveseat again, never willing to admit that he’d bought them especially for her. Because it had somehow managed to become common knowledge that they were her favorite candy and while wandering the local corner market, he spotted them and thought of her. His brain at the time thought there might be some minuscule possibility that if he brought one of her favorite foods over she might eventually start to like him.

Even if that didn’t happen though, he was still reeling from that one brief moment of interaction for the entire rest of the night. Splurging on an overpriced package of cavities had been well worth it.

It wasn’t until the movie ended that both Harry and Y/N realized Will was dead asleep. That he was no longer conscious enough to use the remote resting on his chest and turn the movie off. So, after a little while of staring at the credits, Y/N stood and grabbed it, flipping the controls until she brought up regular TV channels and then eventually settled for a horror movie Harry had never seen and had no intentions to. But, if it meant he got more time with Y/N, he’d sit through just about anything she wanted to watch.

And then finally, the sugar he’d consumed got to his head.

“Do you always watch scary movies before bed?” He asked, completely lost in his daydreams and not fully realizing he’d asked her a full-blown question until it was out of his mouth. Once he came to his senses, he wanted to shove every last word back into his mouth and pretend he never said anything.

That was, until a couple silent moments went by and she finally said something. “Makes the nightmares more interesting.”

He didn’t expect her to say anything at all, and so for her to say that, he had no idea how to respond to her. Was she being... sarcastic? He didn’t even know she was capable of being funny.

So he laughed, not too loudly in case she wasn’t joking. But all his worries were relieved when she glanced at him and giggled too.

He didn’t dare bring up any of the questions floating around in his mind in fear that she’d never speak another word to him ever again once he’d finally managed to break through the walls somehow. Now that he’d made groundbreaking progress with her, there was no way he was asking her why she never talked to him or why she was so quiet. So he kept a fine-tuned filter over what words came out of his mouth.

“Does that mean you have uninteresting nightmares then?” Harry really did try his damndest to think of anything to say that would get her to keep talking, because he wasn’t done listening to her voice or hearing bits of her brain spill out. He wanted to know everything about her, from her mouth only, but he also didn’t want to get too ahead of himself.

“Only on Sundays.”

“Why Sundays?” He asked through a muffled laugh, curious as to what she was on about.

“Because then the nightmares are about showing up at work naked on Monday morning... and that’s not very interesting.”

He couldn’t help the widespread grin on his face, or the way his eyebrows furrowed at how fucking weird she actually was. And she wasn’t even that weird. She was kind of normal, but this entire time he thought she wasn’t like him at all, so seeing her say things like a normal person was... weird.

“So what kind of nightmares does watching Annabelle at...” Harry checked his watch, and went into momentary shock at the time, but also couldn’t care less because he wasn’t leaving now, “two in the morning get you?”

She smiled, and refusing to look at him, settled for planting her eyes on the television instead. “Walking into work naked on Monday morning but,” she held up a finger in anticipation and Harry smiled wider, “all my coworkers are creepy dolls.”

“Guess at that point it doesn't matter if you’re naked then.”

She thought about for a moment before giggling at what he said, “No, I guess it doesn’t.”

There was silence between them again, but it was different this time. It was peaceful. It wasn’t full of awkward tension and things Harry wished she would say. It felt like two friends hanging out and enjoying each other’s company.

“Are you sleeping here or...” She finally asked him and he wasn’t sure if that was her way of asking him to leave or not. But something about it made him feel like she was building her walls back up again.

“Oh, uh... if that’s okay. Think I’m too tired to drive.”

“Yeah, it’s fine. I just wanted to know because I can sleep in Violet’s room and you can have my bed like before. If you want.”

“Oh, um, are you sure?” Under any other circumstances, he would have said no, that the short, uncomfortable couch would be fine. That he would get over the pain in his legs and back in the morning because he didn’t want to invade her space, again. Unfortunately for him, he already had the knowledge of what her pillows smelled like and how soft her sheets were and he desperately wanted to invade her space again.

She nodded. “It’s no problem. I’ll go clean up a little. Just let yourself in.”

She was gone before he could get another word out. And while he listened to her footsteps as she walked away from him, he stared blankly up at the ceiling, resting his neck back on the chair. It felt like he’d just been through a fever dream, like none of it was real. Not only did he have a normal conversation with her, but now she was offering her bed to him again as well.

He needed a moment to process things.

When she got done tidying up her room and replacing her blanket with a clean one for Harry, he appeared cautiously in the doorway, yawning as he watched her gather some of her things to take to Violet’s room directly across the hall.

“I turned the TV off and the lights. Will’s still quite dead out there.”

She smiled to herself and gave him a very fleeting glance before picking the last item she needed up off her side table and then finally facing him. “It’s all yours.”

Ushering him in, he stepped into her room like he wasn’t actually allowed to. Like he had never been there before. Like he hadn’t nearly puked all over her poor white bed sheets that one night.

She replaced his spot in the doorway as he sat down on the edge of her bed. He stared at her back as she walked away, not getting his hopes up about her saying anything else to him. So, when she did turn to face him again, it just about knocked the air out of him.

“Oh and Harry?”

“Yeah?”

“Could you try to not drool on my pillows this time?”

He glanced at the top of her bed where all her pillows were neatly stacked and cringed at the horrible memories he had and at the fact that he’d actually drooled on her pillows. Like a fucking animal. Like a dog who couldn’t control himself.

“Sorry ‘bout that...” He looked at her again, genuinely apologetic and completely embarrassed by his past, drunken self.

“It’s okay.” She smiled reassuringly, “Night.”

“G’night.” Harry mumbled just before she left and closed the door behind her.

And in all the talk about drool, it wasn’t until he was cuddled under her blanket and up against her mound of pillows that he realized something. She’d said his name, out loud, to his face, where he could hear it and obsess over it and never get sick of it. He repeated it over and over in his head and kept himself awake just thinking about the way it had sounded and if he’d ever get to hear her say his name again.

The faint hum of voices right outside the door woke him slightly. His entire body was still asleep except for about half of his brain and one eye that peeked open to investigate the noise. He could tell it was early, though, his eyes stung and his body ached to go fully back to sleep.

He could make out Violet’s voice, which confused his foggy brain because he swore Will had mentioned she’d be gone all weekend, and yet here she was yelling in the hallway and interrupting his sleep.

“Please just sleep on the couch then, I need to be alone right now.” Harry furrowed his eyebrows at how distressed she sounded and flinched when the door across the hall just about slammed shut.

He heard an exasperated sigh and then squeezed his eyes shut when he saw movement under the door to Y/N’s bedroom just moments before it opened. He pretended to be asleep for as long as he could, listening to the footsteps as they carefully wandered into the room.

And then a hushed, but very exclamatory, “Ow!” got him to roll onto his back and knuckle his eyes open.

She looked at him apologetically while grasping the big toe of her right foot. “Sorry.”

“S’okay.” His voice was a lot groggier and a lot more raspy than she expected it to be. And she kind of hated herself for enjoying the view, a little too much, of Harry waking up in her bed. While she got her thoughts under control, he continued. “Did Violet just kick you out?”

She simply nodded and went back to digging into her cabinets for spare pillows.

“What time is it?” He asked.

“Four-thirty.”

Then he slowly pulled her blanket off, still dressed in his shirt and joggers from last night but without his socks and rings he’d removed before bed.

She immediately turned to him, however. “You don’t have to get up. I’m fine on the couch.” “No, I would feel bad.”

“It’s okay, really. Don’t worry about it.” She got him to stop what he was doing and lay back into the bed again while she opened up more cabinet doors to find her extra bed sets.

He cleared his throat after a little while of watching her, and gathered up the largest bundle of courage he ever had, to say what he was about to say next. With nervous, shaking fingers and a cold sweat on the back of his neck, he voiced the stupidest idea he’d ever had in his life.

“We can just both sleep here... if that’s fine.”

She froze and he knew he’d made a mistake. Why in the actual fuck did he just suggest that? Maybe he was sleep deprived. Maybe he was still reeling from last night. Maybe he had some false sense of security with her and completely forgot about the fact that last night had been the first time she’d said that many words to him. Of course she wasn’t about to climb in bed with him.

“Oh, um...” She finally found a couple pillows and pulled them from the cabinet while turning her attention back to Harry. She could not deny how desperately she wanted to crawl back into her own bed. And have a warm body next to her, which she had literally never had. No one had ever slept in her bed besides Harry, and definitely not with her. Sure, she’d slept in friends’ beds before on occasion, but this was different. It was her own bed and this was Harry, not her college friends.

So maybe it was the sleep-deprivation talking. 

“Okay.”

In all forms but physical, his jaw had just hit the floor. Never in a million years or in any other infinite alternate realities would he have thought they’d end up here, with Harry sliding over to one side of the bed to make room for her while she crawled in beside him. Her queen size gave lots of room in between them, so it wasn’t as weird as it sounded. It was just two, very tired loose-knit friends sharing a bed for a few hours.

“Goodnight, again.” Harry mumbled, realizing too late that it was technically morning now.

“Mhm,” was the only response he got out of her when she curled up under the blanket they shared and went straight back to sleep with her back to him.

And once his nerves settled, he did the same.

It was a lot easier than either of them thought possible. And for a long while, they stayed on their respective sides of the bed. But once she was lost in dreamland and he was already letting out soft snores, there was no control over what happened next. She turned and cuddled right up to his side as if her unconscious mind thought he was some kind of pillow to cradle. She wasn’t all to blame, though, as his arm wrapped around her shoulders and pulled her even closer. Closer than either of them had been to another living being in a long time. As close as her forearm spread across his chest and her head nestled into his neck. Close enough to smell his cologne but not realize why or stop any of it from happening. Not that she would have wanted to if she had any clue what she was doing. Not that he would have wanted to either.

With his hand digging into her waist, they both were mildly aware of what was going on, but both were also still too lost in their exhaustion. So, it just happened. And they held each other tighter as the minutes passed and the dreams took over once again. Because they both needed it. To hold and to be held. To feel the pressure of another person and the heartbeat on their skin. And all the loneliness in their bones melting away with each other’s touch as if they’d never been alone in the first place.

The only thing that could ever separate them was the knock on her door at nine a.m. Everything was a little fuzzy at first before she blinked a few times and realized that what she’d been using as a pillow wasn’t exactly stuffed with cotton and lined in silk. With a gasp, she pulled away from him abruptly. Ceasing all contact. Not because she wanted to necessarily, but because she would rather Harry not find out she was all over him like she had just been.

“Oh my god,” she whispered quietly in disbelief, mentally punching herself in the face for what she’d just woken up to.

But her embarrassment only skyrocketed when she dragged her eyes up his neck to his chin, then his nose and finally saw him staring right back at her with furrowed brows like he was just as confused as she was. When he glanced at the door is when she moved to do something about it.

Quickly, she pulled the covers off of herself and opened her door only the smallest amount possible. Just enough to peak her head out, but not enough for Will to see Harry in her bed. Where she’d just been sleeping right next to him. Or... right on top of him, as it seemed.

“Did Harry go home last night?”

With absolutely no plan to go along with her lie, she still figured it was the better option than to admit to Will she’d been in the same bed as Harry. That she’d been all fucking over him for who knows how long.

“Um, yeah. After you fell asleep.”

From behind her, Harry quietly smacked his hands over his face and fell back dramatically into her fluffy pillows.

“Oh, ok. Vi won’t come out of her room, but I’m going to go get breakfast from Jade’s. You want anything?”

“No, I’m alright, thanks.” Her words fused together in a flash, just trying to get the least amount of information out as quickly as possible so she didn't accidentally say something suspicious.

She shut the door on him with a smile before Will could even offer her a pastry from their most loved local cafe. Once that was dealt with, and she had a moment to gather her thoughts as she stared at her door, she slowly turned around to face Harry.

Her cheeks were probably bright red and full of embarrassment seeing him there amongst her sheets; as if once she had turned around he wouldn’t actually be there, like maybe she’d dreamt the whole thing.

But no.

He was there. And he was very real. And very much looking at her like they were both insane.

“I’m sorry,” they said it at the exact same time, cutting each other off from saying anything else.

“No, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have, um...” Harry started once he found an opportunity to speak again, but he didn’t exactly know what he was apologizing for. He wasn’t sorry for how they’d ended up. He had the best four and a half hours of sleep he’d ever had.

“I shouldn’t have been like... all on you like that.” She averted her eyes when she spoke, not able to look him straight on and admit it. And she knew she was only apologizing because she felt embarrassed and like she had to. She felt like she’d invaded Harry’s space and took advantage of him.

“You don’t have to apologize.”

She just shrugged. Nothing he said at this point could make her feel any less horrible about it. And even so, some part deep down inside of her, when she finally looked at him again, wanted to get right back into that spot with him for another few hours.

It just felt... right. And even though she couldn’t remember what she dreamed about, she knew it wasn’t her usual nightmare. She had felt safe and secure, and not so alone anymore, sleeping beside him like that and she felt stupid knowing it would never happen again.

“I should get going then. Before Will comes back and realizes I didn’t actually leave.” Harry let out an exasperated laugh as he began getting up, sitting himself on the edge of her bed with his back facing her as he stretched. The fabric of his shirt tugged along his muscles as he flexed them awake, and she grew far too overwhelmed thinking about the fact that those fucking arms of his had been around her for the better half of the morning. She could still feel him holding onto her and his grip at her side.

She needed a very cold shower and some fresh air.

[malereader-inserts]

broken crown | i.

Your mother tried to keep you disciplined. But, it was hard to control a kid who was using magic as if it didn’t take time and skill - in which, to you it was. By the time you were seven, the funny old man told you that your family was Merlin.

Word Count:  1,727

A/n: HERE WE GOOO, REMUS SON SERIES IS OUT Yes, this is like the majority of characters live AU. Think we’re going with movies and there will be a lot of hindsight and flashbacks - The title was inspired by the song Broken Crown by Mumford and Sons. Anyone wanting to be on the tag list, message me! Scheduled for every Friday; 12:15am (BST).  Also, feedback is appreciated!

Next >

You were in bed, early morning with the sun beaming down upon you. You lay there still, it was the day that you were moving Harry from his home to the burrow. You could hear your dad clatter about in the kitchen whilst your step mum fiddled with the radio, hopefully finding suitable music to relax to. You got up to look out your window, sighing as you got up from the bed. Taking a quick shower and dressing for the day. 

Just like Hermione had told you to, you had packed a back for the group, promising to join them in the hunt for Horcruxes. You cleaned your room, the night before. Remus could hear a lot of shuffling in your room, he thought better to leave you alone. You put your bag on your neatly made bed with your wand next to it. You hadn’t told your dad you were joining, but you think he knows by now as you descend down the stairs.

“You’re up earlier than usual,” Remus says, surprised as he cooks up breakfast whilst Tonks smirks at you, “Are you alright? Having a fever?”

You rolled your eyes, you wished, but the truth is nerves were setting. Allowing for little sleep for you to get. You shake your head as you sit at the table, whilst Tonks ruffles your hair. Breakfast was almost silent, you didn’t say much as you finished your food. 

“Got something on your mind?” Remus asked, finally, as Tonks does the cleaning up - waving her wand as Remus rolls his eyes at his wife.

You smiled softly, thinking you’re going to miss mornings like that, and mornings when it is loud with your parents, you look at your dad, “No.”

Remus narrows his eyes, he knows you and can see right through your lies, but leaves you be, “Alright, we’ll be leaving soon. You’ll see Sirius again!”

You smiled to yourself, you like Sirius, he teased you relentlessly during the summer before the fifth year - he did live up to being family, he was your father’s best friend after all. You also get to see your friends again, after a month of no to little contact, missing Ron and Hermione dearly. You went back upstairs, slowly this time, taking time to process your surroundings.

Your father kept a lot of pictures of you growing up. You stayed with your mother life before Hogwarts. In fact, you were Harry’s first friend, and your barely ever saw him when you were a child. Your mother sent pictures to your dad, stills and moving. Your dad kept a photo album of your growing, despite not being in your life as much as he liked. 

Your mum always sent him a batch of pictures at the end of the month. Little drawings you made for your dad, creations and such. As said before, you were friends with Harry. But, you promised to your mother that you wouldn’t say anything. Harry would see you once or twice a month, your mother played it off like you were a sickly child that couldn’t leave the house and you knew of Harry’s situation. 

From a young age, you had excelled in magic at a young age. Which is why you were frequently visited by Dumbledore as you grew up. At the age of seven that is when you found out your true meaning, your true purpose. A lot of responsibility for a child.

You and your mother were descendants of Merlin, and rumours had spiralled that someone just as powerful as Merlin would lead the way, to make an example of the wizardry world. Your mother was as average as one could be, as did your uncles, aunts, cousins from that side as well. But, the moment you were born, with the eyes of your father, you had shown ability surpassing your age. 

Dumbledore would observe you when you were five, often coming around, you named him a funny old man as you played tea with him. Filling the cups up with chocolate milk without a wand and it was no accident, with the twinkle in your eye - Dumbledore knew you were something different. 

Your mother tried to keep you disciplined. But, it was hard to control a kid who was using magic as if it didn’t take time and skill - in which, to you it was. By the time you were seven, the funny old man told you that your family was Merlin. 

You knew of Merlin, your mother told tales of him before you went to sleep. The funny old man told you that you would do so many great things in life. At the age of seven, you just wanted to be a kid, and they let you. But, when you turn nine, it seemed like you were always indoors to read, to learn. You figured out you were dyslexic, and yet, you were the only one who was able to read the book of Merlin, he had written centuries ago.

His work, his spells he had created for himself, all passed down with unknown translation, and you found yourself understanding it. Whilst you sometimes struggle with English, you had excelled in runes, both Merlin’s and ancient, and Latin. Your mother died in the summer just before your first year, you were distraught. 

Death Eaters had invaded your home, you hid in the chest where Merlin’s work was kept. You came out of the chest to see Dumbledore, saying you’ll be living with your father. You never wanted to leave Harry, but there was a comforting feeling that you would see him on the Hogwarts train. 

So, here you were in your small room. Your single bed that was positioned under the window, it was cleared and neatly done up. Your wardrobe, chest of drawers and desk was cleared. Your bookshelves neatly presenting your books, your notebooks that you had been filling out since you were nine of your own spells, your own creations, following in the footsteps of Merlin. 

Notebooks you wrote in the unknown runes as well, drawings of diagrams. Notebooks you had written about the years in Hogwarts, neatly in order of what year. How you had unlocked all Merlin’s cursed vaults, also, your adventures with Harry and the other two. Some of your notebooks kept clean, others were battered. You sighed, looking in the mirror one last time, a picture of you and your father taped onto it. 

“(Y/n)!” Remus called you from downstairs, “We have to go!”

You pulled on your jacket, grabbing your bag and wand. Headed downstairs, closing your bedroom door for the very last time in a long while, to see your dad and step-mum with a small bag. You smiled tightly at them, taking a deep breath and apparating to the Burrow.

You had kept your stuff in Ron’s room, the night was slowly setting in, so everyone was going to get ready to meet at Harry’s home. You stood outside, Hermione gripping your hand.

“Ready for one last adventure?” You asked your two best friends.

Remus, Tonks, Sirius, Mad-Eye, Hagrid and Kingsley also exit the house and wait outside with you and your two best friends. They looked at you, giving you a tight smile. You found comfort within them, they had your back like you had Harry’s back with them. Arthur, the twins, Bill and Fleur all came out last.

Mad-Eye looked at the group, counting everyone, before saying everyone was present in the movement of Harry Potter. There were going to meet more aurors at Harry’s, to accompany them in the great flight. You had given Mad-Eye your broom as you looked at the people surrounding you.

After, in a hypothetical good situation, Harry defeats Voldemort. The country, perhaps the world would have to turn to look up at you. A young adult, still finding his way. You looked at the faces, faces you won’t see for many months. You often wonder if that’s what Ron and Hermione were thinking. You looked at Sirius, still the joker he ever was. He gives you a tight smile, his eyes glimmering.

Then you looked at Tonks, your step-mum. You weren’t bothered at the age gap between you and her, many were surprised at the fact. Some were not, after all, if you weren’t prioritising Gryffindor traits, your friends would vouch for you for Hufflepuff before you could even find yourself in Slytherin like Merlin. You welcomed Tonks with open arms, she even lets you call her Dora. Despite the age difference, she does hope one day you can call her mum - even if yours had passed many years before.

Then, you turn to look at your dad. The kind and gentle soul he’ll always be. And yet, he is full of rage as well. Your father was loving, he had wanted to spend your childhood with you. But, your father could not let your mother provide for him and he wanted to keep you safe from the monster he was, though you never had seen him as a monster. He was your father, and that’s all you’ll ever see him as. You’ll miss him when you leave, you won’t be able to write him letters or such. You see him look at you.

There’s pride in his eyes.

You hate it because you see a lot of pride in many people’s eyes. Whilst his pride is that you are his miracle boy, his son, the man he has raised you to be. The other look of pride had scorn you, often at times, the pride in their eyes was because you were following some powerful wizard that they expected you to act and be like.

You want to make a name for yourself, but it’s hard when no one knows that you have a name to follow. 

Responsibilities, why must they tear down the youth of some child, some teenager?

Perhaps, that’s why you and Harry had fallen in love. 

“Everyone knows the plan?” Mad-Eye asked, once more for confirmation, as many answers back with a murmur.

The plan, who didn’t know the plan? It was frustrating as all hell with all the reruns of the damn plan. You sighed as you watched everyone apparated away, you looked at your father with a smile - see you on the other side.