#I am fucking astounded. I am going to do everything possible to make sure I don't fall off meds again bc like. this shit is lifechanging

[coloursofaparadox]

i finally got my adhd med dosage worked out and also for like the first time since upping the dosage actually managed to take it consistently long enough for it to actually kick in over the last few weeks and god damn. that shit is magic.

[lillotte17]

I just woke up, so good morning, let me see if I can string any words together in a coherent pattern. This has actually been on my mind for weeks. Slowly driving me insane.

200 years. Two. Hundred. Years. 2 HUNDRED years.

That amount of time is literally incomprehensible to us in terms of personal memories and trauma. We can barely remember anything collectively as a species for that amount of time without losing bits and pieces of it. It is more than 2/3 of the time that Astarion has been alive. Well, "alive."

I am currently in my mid thirties, it would be like if I had died when I was 7 or 8 years old and then had to try and remember everything about my personality and my family and my morality from that time period. I do remember it, of course, but a lot of it is pretty vague. A lot of things that I know happened, or that I know I did, I remember because there are other people in my life who knew me then. Astarion wasn't a child, of course, but time still has it's way with things, and there is no one in his life he knew from before he became a vampire, with the possible exception of Cazador, and he's hardly a reliable source of information. Trauma also damages memories, and he has spent more that 2/3 of his life being constantly starved and beaten, and abused in pretty much every possible way a person can be.

The main point being that it is simply not possible to make any firm assumptions about the kind of person Astarion was before he was turned. Maybe he was a horrible, power-hungry, back room dealing, lying, racist, POS trash-man who deserved what he got when that group of thugs jumped him. Maybe he was kind underneath all his bluster, and had a strong sense of justice, and he was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. Most likely, he was something in between. But we can't know. And Astarion probably doesn't really know anymore either.

(I firmly believe that Cazador chose him specifically to be a spawn, and possibly even orchestrated the attack on Astarion. They might not even have really been Gur. Astarion would only have Cazador to rely on for confirmation about what really happened to him that night, and having a culture of people who hunt monsters and were likely already targeting Cazador himself be the same group that murdered Astarion seems pretty mmmm convenient.)

And for all that he is a chaos gremlin, prickly rat-bastard, dumpster fire of a man, it is honestly pretty astounding (and rewarding imo) just how much growth he can have over the course of the game, which is only a few months, tops. (assuming, of course, that you are playing a good aligned Tav/Durge) But even before that, after the first night he tries to bite you, he is the one who immediately promises that he's not going to feed from innocents, with no prompting at all from the player. He doesn't ask to keep feeding from your PC, and he only drinks from you if you offer it. (unless you direct him to in a fight, I guess, lol) That feels huge to me. He has been STARVING for 200 years. Part of being a vampire is that he's always kind of starving, but he doesn't want to be a slave to that hunger any more than he wants to be a slave to anything or anyone else.

I'm not saying that he's secretly a good man deep down, but even from the start, the potential for him to be better was already there. Which is AMAZING because, as I said earlier: TWO HUNDRED YEARS.

Like, imagine that you know absolutely nothing about yourself except misery and torture and losing things, and it fucks you up, and you KNOW it's fucked you up, and you are terrified that one wrong move could send you back to the place that you just escaped from, and you still say, "I'm still not going to attack the innocent people around me for no reason, though. Sure, I might laugh if they manage to get themselves killed in an amusing way, but it's not going to be my fault."

[feanorianethicsdepartment]

Alright, I read your recent post and need to know - what is your interpretation of Maglor’s relationship with the twins?

askjdhslkjag my biggest self-inflicted problem in this fandom is that my take on maglor, elrond, and elros' relationship is so intensely detailed and specific i am forever tormented by none of the fic i read ever quite getting it right (from my perspective; i’ve read plenty of fic that presents a good interpretation on their own terms, it’s just never mine.) it’s simultaneously way darker than the fluffy kidnap dads stuff and nowhere near as black-and-white awful as the anti-fëanorian crowd likes to paint it, it’s messy and complicated and surrounded by darkness, and yet there’s also a sincere connection within it which mostly serves to make all those complications worse. angry teenage elrond is angry for a great many reasons, and the circumstances around him being raised by kinslayers account for at least half of them. there’s lots of complexity here, and i don’t see it in fic nearly as often as i’d like

(warning: the post... feathers? i already have an internet friend called faeiri this could be awkward - anyway, the post she’s talking about includes the line ‘everyone is wrong about kidnap dads except me.’ this post follows on from that in being as much a commentary about why various popular interpretations of both how the kidnapdoption went and the way people subsequently characterise the twins just don’t work for me as it is a setting out of my own ideas. i’m not really interested in getting into discourse here, i’m just trying to get my thoughts down. i’ve read fic with these interpretations before that i’ve liked, even, don’t take this as a Condemnation, aight? also this turned out long as hell, so i’m putting it under a cut)

i can never buy entirely fluffy depictions of kidnap dads

which isn’t to say i don’t read them! sometimes all i want is something sweet, for these kids to get to be happy for once. it’s not like i think their time with the fëanorians was completely devoid of laughter

it’s just. the pet names, the special days out, the home-cooked meals, it can get so treacly it stops feeling like the characters they are in the situation they’re in and turns into Generic Found Family #272

it soaks out all the complexity - which is the thing i am here for - and acts like oh, these kids were never in any danger, they were perfectly happy being abducted by the people who murdered everyone they knew, there’s nothing possibly questionable about this relationship at all

and... yeah. that’s not the characters i know. that’s not the context i know they belong to

i just can’t forget the circumstances that led them to meet

rivers of blood, the air filled with screams, a town ablaze, a woman choosing to die. every interaction the three of them have is going to proceed from that nightmare

(sidenote: i tend to hold it was maglor that raised the twins, with maedhros looming ominously in the background not really getting involved. it’s mostly personal preference, i’ve been in and out of the fandom since before this kidnap dads thing blew up and when i joined that was a perfectly standard reading)

(also the cave thing was a dumb idea, old man, if only because it implies beleriand had streams safe enough for children to play in at that point. the way it separates the twins from the third kinslaying is also something i don’t particularly vibe with)

probably my least favourite angle i’ve seen on the situation (edged out only by ‘maglor was actively abusive towards the twins’ which no no no no no no no no NO) is the idea that maglor (and/or maedhros, append as necessary) took the twins specifically to raise them

like, i get where it’s coming from, but it makes maglor come off as really creepy

(i have read fics where it is indeed played off as really creepy, but that’s not a maglor i have any interest in reading about)

(’mags 100% bad’ is just as facile a take to me as ‘mags 100% good’)

even if you’re saying maglor took them in because they had no one left to take care of them - i highly doubt they were the only children the fëanorians orphaned at sirion. idk, it always makes maglor seem much less sympathetic than i think it’s meant to

i prefer to think of it as more... organic? something that evolved, not something that was preordained. them growing closer gradually, the twins finding an adult who might maybe be on their side, maglor becoming invested in them almost by accident

and then the twins are so comfortable with the second scariest monster in amon ereb they frequently sass him off and maglor’s gotten so used to not hurting them he’s not even thinking about it any more. no one’s quite sure how it happened, but they’ve made a Connection

‘wait aren’t they a murderous warlord of questionable mental stability and a pair of terrified small children who’ve lost everyone they ever knew? isn’t that kinda fucked up?’ yup! that’s the point! complexity!

another idea i don’t like is the idea that maglor was an objectively better parent to the twins than eärendil or elwing

other people have talked about this already, i won’t rehash the whole thing. i will say that while i don’t think elwing was a perfect parent - someone so young, in such a horrible situation, i wouldn’t blame her for screwing up - i do think she (and eärendil) did the best by them they possibly could

this is one of the few things they have in common with maglor

something i come across now and again is the idea that sure, elwing and eärendil weren’t abusive or horrible or anything, but they were a couple of basically-teenagers with so many other responsibilities, there was only so much they could do. maglor, on the other hand, is an experienced adult who could take much better care of the twins

and...

first off, it’s not like mags doesn’t have a job. he’s a warlord, he has a fortress to help run, military shit to handle, lots of other stuff that needs to get done to stop everyone from starving or getting eaten by orcs. i feel like sirion had enough of a government there was plenty of opportunity for elwing to take days off and play with her kids, but in the fëanorian camp nobody really has the time to chase after a couple of toddlers, least of all one of the last points on the command network. they just don’t have the people any more

(seriously, the twins getting a formal education with tutors and classes and shit is a weirdly specific pet peeve of mine. this is a band of renegades, not a royal household; if there’s anyone left with those kinds of skills they almost certainly have more important things to do)

more than that, though - well, a quick glance through my late stage fëanorians tag should tell you a lot about what i think maglor’s mental state is like at this point. he is so accustomed to violence death means nothing to him, he’s lost most of his capacity for genuinely positive emotion to an endless century of defeat and despair, he hates everything in the universe, especially himself, he’s only able to keep functioning through a truly astounding amount of denial, and he covers it all up with a layer of snark and feigned apathy, which he defends aggressively because he’s subconsciously realised that if it breaks he’ll have absolutely nothing left

(maedhros, for the record, is... i’d say more stable, but at a lower point. maglor may interact with the world mostly through cold stares and mocking laughter, but at least his mind is firmly rooted in the present)

(on the other hand, at least maedhros lets himself be aware of what they are and where their road will lead)

which... this doesn’t mean maglor doesn’t try to be kind to the twins, or rein in his worst impulses around them

there’s just so little of him left but the weapon

he stalks through the halls like a portent of death and gets into hours-long screaming matches with maedhros and has definitely killed people in front of the twins

not even as, like, a deliberate attempt to scare them, but because when you solve most of your problems by stabbing them it’s pretty much a given that people who spend a lot of time around you are going to see you do it at least once

and sometimes, he curls up in an empty hallway, and weeps

... suffice it to say i don’t think elwing’s the more preoccupied, or the less mentally ill, parent here

just. in general, the fëanorians aren’t cackling boogeymen, but they’re not particularly nice either

no one has the energy left for that. not these isolated and weary soldiers at the end of a long losing war and the beginning of the end of the world. they don’t really bother to guard the kids against them escaping. where else are they going to go?

the sheer despair that must have been in the fëanorian camp after sirion, the knowledge that the cause cannot be fulfilled, that they are utterly forsaken, that they’re really just waiting to die -

it can’t have been a happy place to grow up in, under the shadow of loss and grief and deeds unrepentable, and the slow march of inevitable defeat

they would have had a better childhood if they stayed in sirion, raised by people who knew how to hope

but that isn’t the childhood they had. and despite everything i’ve said, i don’t think that childhood was an entirely awful one

yeah, see, this is where the other side of my self-inflicted fandom catch-22 comes in. just as much of the pro-kidnap dads stuff comes off as overly saccharine and simplified to me, i find much of the anti-kidnap dads stuff equally simplistic in the opposite direction

the idea that maglor and the fëanorians never meant anything to elros and elrond, that they had no effect on the people they became at all, that it was just a horrible thing that happened when they were children, easily thrown in the rear-view mirror...

that’s even more impossible to me than the idea that life with the fëanorians was 100% fluffy and nice

like, i’ve seen the take that elros and elrond hated the fëanorians from start to finish. they were perfect little sindarin princes, loyal to their people and the memory of doriath, spurning every scrap of kindness offered to them and knowing just what to say to twist the knife into the kinslayers’ wounds

... dude. they were six. hell, given their peredhelness, mentally they could easily have been younger

what six year old has a firm grasp of their ethnic identity? what six year old is fully aware of their place in history? what six year old would understand the politics that led to their situation?

don’t get me wrong, i can see hatred in there. but something else that doesn’t get acknowledged alongside it often enough is the fear

some of the stuff i’ve read feels like it gives the kids too much power in the situation. they’re perfectly happy to talk back to and belittle the people who burned down their hometown and killed everyone they ever knew, like miniature adults who don’t feel threatened at all

and, like, six. i can see them going for insults as a defensive measure, but it is defensive. it’s covering up fear, not coming from secure disdain

(and a lot of those insults sound, again, like things an adult who’s already familiar with the fëanorians would say, not a scared child who’s lost almost everything. why would a six year old raised by sindar and gondolindrim know what the noldolantë is, let alone what it means to maglor?)

(... i’m just ranting about this one fic that’s been ruffling my feathers for five years straight now, aren’t i)

i mean, i write elrond as the world’s angriest teenager, who snipes at maglor pretty much constantly, but the thing about angry teenage elrond is that he’s angry teenage elrond

he’s spent long enough with the fëanorians he has a pretty secure position within the camp, and he knows that maglor won’t hurt him from a decade and change of maglor not, in fact, hurting him

but as a small and terrified child abducted by the monsters his mother had nightmares about? he fluctuated wildly between ‘randomly guessing at things to say that wouldn’t get him killed’ ‘screaming at maglor to go away in words rarely more complicated than that’ 'desperately trying not to do or say anything in the hopes of not being noticed’ and ‘hiding’

(and i don’t think the twins were never in any danger from the fëanorians, either. quite besides the point that before they started orbiting maglor nobody was really sure what to do with them... well, they wouldn’t be the first children of thingol’s line the minions took revenge on)

(fortunately for them, maglor did, in fact, take them under his wing. by this point even their own followers are shit scared of the last two sons of fëanor, nobody’s going to mess with their stuff and risk getting mauled. tactically, it was a pretty good decision for a couple of toddlers)

more to the point, i feel like a child that young, in a situation that horrible, wouldn’t reject any kindness they were offered, any soothing touch in a universe of terror

in a world full of big scary monsters, the best way to survive is to get the biggest scariest monster possible to protect you. that’s how elros rationalises it when they’re, like, eight, mentally, but at the time they were just latching on to the only person around them who seemed to care about them

that’s how it started, on their end. two very young very scared children lost in a neverending nightmare clinging tightly to the lone outstretched pair of hands

as for maglor...

i’ve called mags evil before, but i see that as more of a... technical term? he is evil because he did the murder, he remains evil because he won’t stop doing the murder. hot take: murder bad

but that doesn’t make him, like, a moustache-twirling saturday morning cartoon villain. he is deeply unhappy with the position he’s in and the person he’s become, and he’s always trying not to take that final step over the edge

it’s not that i can’t see a maglor who is abusive or manipulative or who sees the twins more as objects than people. it’s just that that characterisation is one i am profoundly uninterested in. i do occasionally read fic with it, but it never enters my own headcanons

horrible people can do good things!! kinslayers can do good things!! the fallen are capable of humanity!! people can do both good and evil things at the same time, because people are complicated!! maglor is not psychologically incapable of actually taking pity on these kids!!!!

it’s... again, complexity. the fëanorians straddle the line between black and white, which is a lot less sharp in the legendarium than it’s sometimes characterised as. it’s what draws me to their characters so much, why i have so many stupid headcanons about them. pretending they fall firmly on either side of the line is my real fandom pet peeve

and, like, this moment? this sincere connection between a bloodstained warlord and two children who will grow up to be great and kind in equal measure? i may not entirely like the direction the fandom’s taken it recently, but that beat, that relationship, it still gets me

so no, i don’t think elrond and elros’ years with the fëanorians were an endless cavalcade of abuse and misery. i think there was love there, despite the darkness all around them

an old, tired monster, and the two tiny children it protects

maglor never hurts the twins, not ever, not once. his claws are sharp and his fangs are keen, if he so much as swatted them he’d rip them in half. instead he folds down the razor edges of his being, interacting with them ever so carefully. he has nightmares of suddenly tearing into their skin

seriously, the power differential between them is so great, maglor so much as raising his voice would break any trust they have in this horribly dangerous creature. fics where he does corporal punishment always get the side-eye from me

the mood of their relationship is... i find it hard to put into words. melancholy, maybe, like a sunny afternoon a few days before the end of the world. three people who’ve lost so much finding what respite they can in each other as the world slowly crumbles around them

there are times when it feels like the three of them exist in a world of their own, marked out by the edges of the firelight. maglor telling stories of the stars, elros giving relaxed irreverent commentary, elrond getting a few moments to just be, all their troubles kept at bay

they are the last two lights in a world sunk into darkness, the last two living beings he does not on some level hate. he will tear his own heart out before he sees them in pain

he teaches them to ride, he teaches them to read, he gives them everything he still has left. the twins should never have been in this situation, maglor probably isn’t entirely fit to take care of them, but it is what it is, and they take what love they can

(maglor depends on the twins emotionally a bit more than any adult should rely on any child. he’s still very much the caretaker in their relationship, but that relationship is the only one he has left that’s not stained by a century of rage and grief. he’s obsessed with them, maedhros tells him frequently. maglor’s standard response to this is to try to gouge maedhros’ eyes out)

(that particular darker side to their relationship, where maglor’s attachment to the twins turns into a desperate possessiveness - that’s not something i think i’ve ever seen in fic. which is a shame, it feels much closer to my own characterisation than the standard ways this relationship gets maleficised. darker, in a different way than usual. horribly compelling in its plausibility)

however you want to read it, i don’t think you can deny this is a relationship that defines elrond and elros’ childhood. they were raised in the woods by a pack of kinslayers, the text is quite clear on this

but i’ve seen a lot of talk about how elros and elrond are only sirion’s children. they are completely 100% sindarin, they love and forgive eärendil and elwing thoroughly and without question, they identify with doriath over - even gondolin, let alone tirion. the fëanorians - the people who raised them - had zero effect on the people they grew into and the selves they created

and that, more than anything else, i find utterly unbelievable

look, i get what this is a reaction to. a lot of the kidnap dads stuff paints the fëanorians as elrond and elros’ ‘real’ family, and i’ve already talked about what i think of the idea that maglor-and-possibly-also-maedhros were better parents than eärendil and elwing. i think it’s reductive and overly optimistic and just a little too neat

but to say instead that elrond and elros held no great love in their hearts for maglor, no lingering affinity with the fëanorians, no influence on their identity from the people they grew up around, none at all? that after it happened they just left it behind and resumed being the same people they were in sirion?

that strikes me as just as much an oversimplification. it sands down all the potential rough edges of their identity, all that inconvenient complexity that stops them from fitting into any well-defined box, and replaces it with a nice safe simple self-conception i find just as flat and boring as declaring them 100% fëanorian

we can quibble over who they call ‘father’ (i personally find that whole debate kinda petty) but denying that it was actually maglor who was the closest thing they knew to a parent for most of their childhoods, and that that would, in fact, affect the way they thought of themselves and their family, elides so many interesting possibilities out of existence

(i’m not even going to get into the most braindead take i have ever heard on the subject, namely that because their time with the fëanorians was such a small fraction of elrond’s total lifespan it was like being kidnapped for two weeks as a toddler and had no greater significance than that. do you not understand what childhood is????)

like, i tend to think of elrond as a child as being very loudly not-a-fëanorian. elros is more willing to go with the flow - hey, if the creepy kinslayer wants kids, elros is happy to play into that in order to not be murdered - but elrond is very firm that he’s not happy to be here and he doesn’t belong with them

(this is after they get over their initial terror, of course, when they’ve realised they won’t be fed to the orcs for the tiniest slight. even so, elrond only really gets shirty about it around people he’s comfortable with, whose reactions he can reasonably guess at. naturally, the first person he does it to is maglor)

elros calls maglor their father exactly once, when they’re... maybe early preteens? this is because elrond hears him do it and immediately loses his shit. they have a dad, elrond says, in tears, and a mum, and any day now their real parents are going to come to pick them up and take them home

... right?

it gets harder to believe as the years roll on, as their memories of sirion fade, as they find their own places within the host, as maglor watches over them as they grow. elrond still mentally sets himself apart from the fëanorians, but it’s more of an effort every year. life in the fëanorian camp is the only one he’s ever really known. he can barely remember his mother’s voice

then the war of wrath starts, and the fëanorian host drifts closer to the army of valinor, and the twins come into contact with non-fëanorians for the first time in forever, and it becomes clear just how obviously fëanorian elrond is. he always insisted he wasn’t like the kinslayers at all, but he dresses like them, talks like them, fights like them

the myth cycles the edain tell are almost completely unfamiliar to him, he barely remembers the shape of the songs of lost doriath. even these sarcastic commentary and subversive reinterpretations he made of maglor’s stories - those were still maglor’s stories! he’s been trying to guess at the person he was meant to be, but it’s growing nightmarishly blatant how little elrond ever knew about him

instead, the people he was born to are as alien to him as the orcs of morgoth. he is a fëanorian, through and through

... yeah, elrond (and/or elros) having an absolutely massive identity crisis upon being reintroduced to his quote-unquote ‘true kin’ is another angle i’d love to see in fic that i don’t think i’ve ever come across. all those potential grey areas around who they are and who they’re supposed to be sound utterly fascinating, and i think it’s the complexity i hate to see elided over the most

i really, really doubt they could effortlessly slot back into being eärendil and elwing’s children. not when they’ve been surrounded by, lived alongside, been raised by the people who were supposed to enemies for most of their lives

they just don’t fit into that box any more. they can’t

speaking of eärendil and elwing, while i do agree that they both (especially elwing) get a lot more flak than they deserve, i don’t agree that therefore elrond and elros were never the slightest bit mad at them and fully forgave them for everything with no reservations

because, well, they were left behind. elwing had no other choice, but they were still left behind; it led to the world being saved, but they were still left behind. all the best intentions in the universe don’t erase the weeks and months and years of waiting, of a hope that grew thinner and frailer until it finally quietly broke

that’s a real hurt, and a real grievance. even if the twins rationally understand that their parents were making the best out of their terrible situation, you can’t logic away emotions like that. it’s perfectly possible for them to know they have no reason to resent eärendil or elwing, and yet still harbour that bitterness and pain

(i did write a thing once where elrond loudly rejects eärendil as his father in favour of maglor, but something i didn’t add in that i probably should have is that elrond later regretted doing that)

(not like, several centuries later, when he’d grown old and wise. two hours later, when he’d calmed down. but he was still legitimately angry at eärendil, because the one thing angry teenage elrond was not lacking in was reasons to be mad at the adults around him, and before he could figure out if he had anything less furious to say the hosts of the valar left middle-earth behind)

(it’s another element to the tragedy of the whole thing. in that particular story, which is mostly aiming for maximum pain, the only thing elrond’s birth parents know about their son for thousands of years is that he hates them)

(and he doesn’t, not really. you can’t hate someone you’ve never known)

not that i think they couldn’t ever make up with their parents! fics where elrond and his birth parents work past all the things that lie between them and form a functional familial bond despite it all give me life. i just don’t like the idea that there’s nothing difficult for them to work past

i don’t like the idea that elrond and elros would naturally, effortlessly identify with the mother they last saw when they were six and the people they only vaguely remember. i can see them doing it as a political move, i can see them going for it as a deliberate personal choice, but i can’t seeing it being immediate and automatic and easy

no matter how great a pair of heroes eärendil and elwing are, that doesn’t change the fact that to elrond and elros, they’re at most a few scattered memories and a collection of far-off stories. and so long as the twins stay in middle-earth, they’re never going to draw any closer

compared to the dynamic, multifaceted, personal, and deep bonds they have with the fëanorians - who, and i know i keep saying this but i think it gets tossed aside way more casually than it should, are the people who actually raised them, their birth parents must feel like a distant idea

and that’s why i can never buy interpretations of elrond as 100% sindarin, a pure son of doriath, with no messy grey areas or awkward jagged edges to his identity. given everything we know about his life, it seems almost cartoonishly simplistic

honestly it seems like a narrative a bunch of old doriathrin nobles trying to manouevre elrond into being high king of the sindar or something would propagate. it's neat and nice and tidy, something that’d be much more convenient for everyone if elrond did feel that way

but i just don’t see how he can. this narrative is easy and simple in a way real people never are, it ignores all the forces pulling him apart. elrond being uncomplicatedly sindarin with the life he lives and the people he's close to - that doesn’t make any sense to me

which isn’t to say i think he’s 100% noldorin, from either a gondolindrim or a fëanorian perspective. (i find it a little more believable, given, again, who he grew up around and who he hangs out with, but it’s still a bit too reductive for my tastes.) it’s also not to say i couldn’t believe an elrond who made an active choice to emphasise his sindarin heritage

it’s not how i think of him, but it works. i don’t have a problem with other people interpreting the complexities of the twins’ identities differently

i just have a problem with people acting like it doesn’t exist

in general i think there’s a lot untapped potential that gets left behind when you declare the twins, separately or together, as All One Thing

they’re descended from half the noble houses of beleriand, and they have deep personal ties to most of the rest. they belong to all of the free peoples even the dwarves, somehow, probably and i feel like that was kind of the old man’s point? so many peoples meet in them, to say they wholly belong to any one species is probably an oversimplification

they sit at a crossroads of potential identities, and rather than narrowing down their worldviews to one single path, they take the hard road and choose all of them. that’s what you need to do, if you want to change the world

and, to bring this back to my ostensible topic, in my estimation at least this mélange of possible selves does include them as fëanorians! it’s not overpowering, but it’s certainly there, and the adults they grow into long after they’ve left the host still bear influence from their childhood

nothing super obvious, nothing that wouldn’t stand out if you didn’t know what to look for, but there’s something almost incandescent in how fiercely elros reaches out for his dreams

there’s something almost defiant in elrond’s drive to be as kind as summer

as for who they publically claim as their family... honestly, it depends. while it’s usually more tactically prudent for elros to connect himself to his various human ancestors, on occasion he does find a use for his free in with the elf mafia, and elrond, code switcher par excellence, is famously the son of whoever is most politically convenient at the moment, which is rarely, but not never, maglor

(in the privacy of their own minds, well, eärendil and elwing may have been the parents elros was supposed to have, but maglor was the parent he actually had, and elros doesn’t particularly care to mope over what might have been. elrond, for his part, figures that after all the shit maglor has put him through, the least that bastard owes him is a father)

but honestly? i think before any of their mountain of identities, before thinking of themselves as sindarin or gondolindel or hadorian or haladin or fëanorian or anything, elrond and elros identify as themselves

they are peredhil, they are númenóreans, they are whoever they make themselves to be. that’s how elrond finally resolved his identity, figured out who he was and found something past the pain and the rage

he wasn’t doriathrin, or gondolindrin, or falathrin, or fëanorian, or whatever else. he was elrond, no more and no less

and that person, elrond, could be whatever he chose to be

... elros came to a similar conclusion, with much less sturm und drang that he’s willing to admit. being able to go ‘hey, i can’t possibly be biased towards any one of your cultures, because i’m descended from all of you and i was raised by murderelves’ makes it a lot easier to unite people around your personal banner, turns out

the stories other people tried to force on them shattered into pieces, and the peredhel twins were free to shape themselves into anything they could dream of

and as the new world struggles alive, these lost children of an Age of death begin to bloom into their full glorious selves -

i just. i love the poetry of that. despite every single shadow that hangs over their past, despite all the clashing notes pulling them apart, they harmonise it all into a greater, kinder theme, determined to make their world a better place in whatever way they can

they fail, of course, but so do all things. the inevitable march of entropy doesn’t diminish the long millennia they (and their descendants) held onto the light

and their growing up in the fëanorian host definitely had a huge effect on the noble lords they became. you can see it in elros’ loud ambition to create a land of happiness and hope, elrond’s quiet resolve to heal all the hurts inflicted by this marred reality

it wasn’t a perfect time by any means, but neither was it a nightmare. it was what it was, a desperate existence at the edge of a knife where, nevertheless, they were loved

even after years upon decades upon centuries have passed, it’s hard for the wise king and the honourable sage to separate out and identify all the conflicting emotions swirling around their childhood. they never knew eärendil or elwing, true, but they also never really knew maglor

not as equals, not as adults, not as people who could truly understand him. he disappeared into the fog of history, leaving only childhood memories of razor-sharp, gentle hands

it’s messy and it’s complicated and getting any real closure would be like shoving their way through a thornbush with bare hands even if elrond could find the shithead, and yet at the core of it all, there is light. not the brightest of lights, maybe, but an enduring one

that contrast, above all, that note of warmth amidst the shadows, is what fascinates me so much about their relationship. three screwed up people in a screwed up world, finding a little peace with each other

and the fact that somehow, it does have a good ending - the children grow up magnificent and compassionate and just, they become exemplars of all their peoples, lodestars of the new world born out of the ashes of the old - that makes it seem to me like this relationship must have contained some fragment of happiness

but, fuck, all the darkness that surrounds that love, all the tangled-up emotions its existence necessitates, all the prefabricated self-identities it can never slot into - nothing about it is simple, nothing about it is easy, and i find that utterly enthralling. especially how, despite everything, that flickering light never goes out

well, i don’t think it does, anyway. my take on this relationship is both complicated enough no one else ever quite gets it right and well-defined enough every single ‘error’ in other people’s interpretations sticks out like a kinslayer in rivendell

it is an entirely self-inflicted problem, i will admit. other people are allowed to interpret those complexities differently from me, and it’s entirely my own fault i lack the :waves hands around nebulously: to write my own hypothetical fic on the subject at a pace faster than glacial

still, though. i do wish there was more fic out there that engaged with these complexities. a lot of the common fandom interpretations of this relationship just sweep it all away

[itgirlification]

supermodel (3) | jjk

when you asked jungkook to come over, you didn’t expect it to end this way.

pairing: ex-bf!jk x thick!reader

warnings: unprotected sex, spitting, face slapping, spanking, etc.

now playing: stuck on you by giveon

part one part two

“I just didn't feel like you were ready for a relationship. You still aren’t.”, He said. “Not ‘cause you’re a bad girlfriend, it's because you’re so bad to yourself.”

After the party, you decided to message Jungkook and ask him to come over to talk things through, since there was too much between you unanswered. Now that’s exactly what you’d been doing for the past 15 minutes.

You admired his honesty even though it hurt you.

You were about to open your mouth, but Jungkook made a hand motion to let you know he wasn’t finished talking.

“Do you know how I felt when you always looked down on yourself, always picking fights because you’re too damn insecure to realize that I was only looking at you?”

You looked at him, wondering if he was expecting you to answer so you just shook your head no. You didn’t know how he felt.

Throughout the entire timeline of your relationship, he hadn’t even tried to tell you he was feeling like this once.

Jungkook sighed, clearly not trying to hurt you with what was going to come. “It just made you hard to love. I didn't feel fully loved in our relationship, because if you had so many issues loving yourself, how were you supposed to love me?”

Realizing you’ve never thought about it in that way, you made an astounding facial expression, before finally talking. “But we aren't the same, Jungkook. You’re so easy to love. But I’m not. I’m flawed and I don't think I deserve to have you in any way. Please don’t think I never loved you. It hurts me.”

He jabbed his cheek with his tongue and gazed at you in disbelief. “You missed my point. I’m telling you, you shouldn't be looking for a relationship if you can’t love yourself first.”

Now you were getting a little irritated at him. “Well, that’s easier said than done. You don’t understand what it feels like having people constantly body shame you and having a conventionally attractive partner and people telling you you’re too ugly for them, you don’t deserve them. You don’t get it, because you are the attractive one in the relationship.”

With his clenched jaw and the tightened expression on his face, you knew Jungkook wasn’t having it. “Oh, you know that’s a typical move for you, yn. You love victimizing yourself and being blind to your own faults, acting like everybody else around is doing everything wrong when you don’t even let them express their honest feelings to you. You’re unbearable to talk to, you know that?”

“Of course, I am. Because I’m confessing my fears and my vulnerability to you it’s hard talking to me, right? Like I didn’t spend a total of like what, a year? listening to your sob stories about your childhood trauma and your daddy issues and your drug problems and I didn’t even say a thing about it. I never complained.”, you hollered at him, unfortunately, your anger was getting the best of you.

You were aware of the fact that you shouldn’t have mentioned your ex-boyfriend’s childhood, let alone his unhealthy relationship with drugs. You knew it was his weak spot, but you did it out of anger, you couldn’t control it.

You remembered the first time Jungkook teared up in front of you while talking about how his father mistreated and abuse him and his mum and how he started abusing drugs at the age of 16.

“Jungkook..”, you moved closer to him after noticing his silence, trying to put a hand over his shoulder. He rejected you by shaking your hand off.

“Nah, don’t ‘Jungkook’ me, you know what you did, don’t try blaming it on the fact that you’re mad at me right now.”, He hissed with flaring nostrils. “That’s what you’ve been wanting to tell me ever since I opened up to you, don’t lie.”

You felt deeply ashamed of the fact that you were getting aroused at the side of this messed-up Jungkook who was standing right in front of you.

Despite your arousal, your ex-boyfriend’s statement had hurt your feelings. You didn't want him thinking that of you, you wanted him to know you supported him and wanted to be his shoulder to cry on. For him to know he could always call you.

“Jungkook, that's not true at all”, your voice softened and you sat yourself on one of his thick thighs, gently taking his face into your hands. “You know I love you and I’m just frustrated, that’s the only reason why I said that. You can talk to me about anything.”

You started to lightly grind against his thigh, contemplating whether you wanted him to notice or you didn’t.

Jungkook started chuckling as he felt your pulse on his thigh. “You know sex isn't gonna solve all of our problems, right?”

His demeanor always changed when he'd notice you were needy. One thing about your relationship you never complained about was your sex life.

“I know, but it would solve a lot of them right now”, you breathed out, grabbing a handful of his dick, making him hiss.

“I don't think you deserve dick after what you said.”, Jungkook looked at you with a serious gaze. “Stand up.”

You were confused at his sudden demand but obeyed regardless.

“Now lay on my lap, facing down.”, He demanded again and you did as he said.

Not knowing what was going to happen, you were just all up in his lap, trying to figure out what he was going to do. Your hair was wild as it went in all directions, while you were bent over.

Before you knew it, a firm hand was applied to your backside, giving it an unexpected slap. “I think you've been getting a little brave these days, hm?”

“Wha.. what do you mean?”, you sounded like you were gasping for air.

“Already outta breath when I barely touched you, huh?”, he chuckled at your desperate state before dragging his big hand along your ass cheek, teasing you before applying pressure and spanking it, causing it to jiggle. You loudly groaned at that.

“Shush, you’re lucky I’m only using my hand and not this belt.”, Jungkook said with a daring stare.

Your face felt flush and the burn you felt on your ass started getting pleasurable. You wondered what you looked like to Jungkook, bent over his knees like that. His spanks were getting heavier with every passing one.

“Jungkook, it hurts so bad”, you whined to him, your face burning.

He inhaled sharply and you assumed he was mad at you. “Didn't I tell you to shut up? Look at me.”

You turned your head to him, sitting on one of his thighs, which caused your ass to burn even more. Jungkook then cupped your cheeks rather harshly, collected enough saliva in his mouth, and spat on your face.

You bit back a moan, slightly startled. Jungkook always wanted sex to be as messy as possible.

He finally took off his shirt, revealing the tattoos that you loved so much. You started touching them, but Jungkook slapped your hand away and smacked you across your face.

You felt overheated by the intensity, also releasing yourself from your shirt, your black lace bra, and your tits spilling out of it. Jungkook thought it was a beautiful sight.

“I hate you”, you whispered stilly, feeling hazy.

Jungkook chuckled darkly. “Sweetheart, you might wanna speak up. Say that again for me.”

“I hate you for always making me feel like shit.”, you said dizzily as you adjusted yourself on his lap. He held your body effortlessly like you were a feather’s weight.

You started making out sloppily, not without him letting out small moans into your mouth that directly sent waves of arousal through your body.

“I hate you for always starting arguments and playing the victim.”, He breathed out between kisses, hands resting on your ass.

“I hate you for replacing me with that model when you know damn well where you belong.”

The make-out session became more intense with every second.

“I fucking hate you for thinking everything I do is to hurt you.”, he growled against your mouth, making a moan leave your mouth.

“Well, I fucking hate you f-“, you were about to come back at him, but he breathlessly interrupted.

“Shut up”, he groaned into your ear before shoving a hand between your legs and rubbing you.

The frustration in your body built up. “Jungkook, I need you..”

“Where do you need me?”, teasingly, he took his hands away from your pussy. “C’mon, use your big girl words.”

“Inside...”, you felt too dazed to complete a sentence. Jungkook’s hard dick under you was just adding to your frustration.

Before you knew it, he pushed your back onto the bed and ran his hands through his longer black hair before undoing the buttons on his black jeans and taking them off along with the shorts, and leaning forward to kiss you, his strong arms flexing as he did.

He lifted you up and you hook your legs around his small waist, still kissing him. He ran his tongue over your lips after biting them.

After gently throwing you onto the bed, Jungkook laid back and sat you down on his stomach.

You moved southwards and sank down onto his dick, moving back and forth, Jungkook watching his dick disappear into your body. To enhance things, he pulled your hips down a little harder.

Your heavy breathing and the occasional moans that left both of your mouths spread throughout the whole dorm. The pleasure was so intense, you couldn’t talk anymore. You were digging your long nails into his broad shoulders and his back. You were sure it left marks, but you couldn’t care to think about it.

Jungkook leaned in for another kiss, brushing your lips together and sucking your bottom lip into his mouth. “Fuuck, I missed this.”

You kept on going back and forth and bouncing up and down on his dick. The two of you were out of breath.

His dick was buried deep inside of you as he thrusted in and out of your pussy, your hips met and you dug your nails in his back, losing your rhythm as both of your climaxes approached.

Hips stuttering as he fucked into you while your vision faded into black, time slowed just like his thrusts.

“Shit, I’m gonna cum.”, Jungkook warned beforehand in a grunt.

You nodded, indicating you’re cumming too. “Cum inside.”

He initiated eye contact with you to make sure you weren’t just saying that. You nodded.

Your eyes rolled back as you felt his warm liquid enter your body and fire pooling low in your abdomen from your own orgasm.

Positioning yourself on the bed, you stayed there with Jungkook in pleasant silence for a bit.

After a minute or two, the both of you had the energy to stand up again. You freshened up, then made your way to your bed, not before changing the sheets, of course.

Jungkook was in the bathroom for a few minutes, later then got out only wearing his shorts, leaving the rest of his clothes on your pile of dirty clothes you were gonna wash the next day.

“Goodnight.”, Jungkook pressed a loving kiss to your forehead, before jumping into the bed with you, covering his body with the blanket and scooping closer to you.

“You aren’t leaving?”, you tiredly croaked at him with big eyes to which he shook his head no and snuggled closer to you.

Your heart fluttered more with every second that passed. “Goodnight, Jungkook.”

You knew that once you’d wake up and once she’d see you with Jungkook, a loud, disappointed Jane will be heard through the whole apartment complex. But you were too tired to care.

And lastly, when you fall onto the bed and peacefully fall asleep in his strong arms, you weren’t bothered by what's to come.

And so, the cycle continues.

_

taglist: @taeisbae13 @queenmasterxx @jkbangtan7 @jenotation @complicatedjules @gee-nee @tokyorm @yoonievrse @ggukkieland @laurynne5 @miinoongi @kb-bangtanenthusiast @1-in-abillion @sarcasmflowsinmyveins @madygswich @chieftoadturkeynickel @pjmnoir

Thank you everybody for your support. I’m sorry it took such a long time but i got school and stuff. I thought it’d give jungkook at least one redeeming quality so this part wasn’t so depressing. Hope yall like it🖤🖤

[youbloodymadgenius]

Home (Modern!Ivar x reader)

A/N: This is my entry for @maggiescarborough​‘s 400 Followers Challenge. Congrats again, love 🌺

This is another silly, fluffy thing. It’s probably boring, sorry 😔

Since Ivar is undoubtedly a Scorpio, this story takes place in November 😉

The prompt: surprising the character on their birthday.

@geekandbooknerd​, thanks for beta reading this for me ♥️ And @inforapound​, thanks for helping me out ♥️

Thanks to google translate too 😉 jeg er allerede begyndt at lære dansk: I've already started to learn Danish.

Let me know if you want to be tagged 😊

Divider by @firefly-graphics​

Summary: On his birthday, Ivar is in a very bad mood. The only present he wants is you, but there is an ocean between you two.

Warnings: Ivar’s bad temper (is that ever a warning??); soft, soft Ivar; fluff+++.

Words: 3209

When his phone rings, Ivar's first thought is to throw it across the room. Looking down, he then sees the name on the screen and closes his eyes. Snippets of his days run through his mind: how he had snapped at Ubbe – I don't give a shit about what you're saying, brother; how his outburst had brought to tears his new personal assistant – if you don't even know how to make a fucking coffee, I should probably fire you; how Harald, his longtime business partner, had hung up on him, angering him even more – you may be smart, Ivar, but when you're such in a bad mood, you're worthless. I'll call you tomorrow.

 Ivar knows he needs to calm down. He's so pissed off – at everything – that his right quadriceps is constantly spasming, his thigh as hard as rock. Inhaling and exhaling deeply, he sighs loudly, pinches the bridge of his nose and eventually grabs his phone.

 "Mor?" He's sure his mother won't fail to notice the hint of sharpness in his voice. She won't acknowledge it, though, used to his temper.

 "Hello Darling." There's a tremendous amount of love packed in those two little words, yet it doesn't bring a smile on his stern face. "I just wanted to let you know that Sven is on his way. He left Kattegat forty minutes ago. He is going to take you home."

 Clenching his jaw, Ivar stops himself from telling his mother that Kattegat, for him, is no longer home. Not anymore. The truth is, he doesn't know where home is. Home isn't his luxurious loft in in the very center of Copenhagen either. Home should be where you are. But you're so far away…

Ivar clears his throat. "I still don't get it, Mor. Why should I go with your chauffeur? You do know I can drive, don't you?"

 "Oh, honey, of course I do. But we've been over this, remember? You had to work the whole day, on your birthday, and I just want you to relax. Traffic can be brutal this time of day. Just let Sven bring you home. Maybe take a nap in the backseat, or just allow your thoughts to wander. I want you to be rested tonight, sweetheart." His mother pauses for a few seconds, and when she speaks again, her words are careful, her tone almost hesitant – so unlike her, his heart softens a little. "You did pack a bag, didn't you?"

 Ivar can't help but roll his eyes and then settles his gaze on a brown leather duffel bag right next to his mahogany desk. He knows that whatever his mother might expect, he won't stay the night. And if she doesn't allow Sven

to drive him back to Copenhagen, he will just call a cab. He won't argue about it right now, though – everything in its own time.

 Letting out a small sigh, Ivar nods uselessly, a hand running through his hair. "Yes Mor, I did."

  Sven knows better than to talk to him and, in the backseat, as the car speeds down the highway, Ivar closes his eyes and tries to relax. Anger still coursing through his veins, it turns out it's a nearly impossible task. It seems as if everything has gone wrong since he woke up and he's therefore mad at the whole world. He's mad at all those stupid, infuriating people he had to interact with. He's mad at Sven for taking him to Kattegat. He's mad at his mother for inviting him for his birthday. He's mad at himself for accepting. He's even mad at you, for not being here; for not making the impossible possible. For leaving him alone. And no matter if deep down he knows how unfair it is to you; because of course, you'd be here if you could. But he can't help it. He's mad at you because he misses you, every day a little more, to the point where the ache in his heart is far worse than the pain in his legs.

 And today, he misses you like crazy. To the point where sadness floods his mind. To the point where anger takes control. Because today may be his birthday, but it's also the anniversary of your first kiss, first and foremost. And he wants you here, right next to him, for now and forever.

  Fourteen months ago, after yet another surgery, and because even if he knew all too well that he couldn't stay by himself while recovering, the mere thought of his mother's overprotective presence made him nauseous, he had flown – fled – to Canada, to Floki's. The old fool had welcomed him with open arms, turning one of the many guest rooms of his house into a high-tech physiotherapy space. That's where he met you. At first, you had been just his physical therapist, then his date, his girlfriend, and now you are his lover. And if he's back in Denmark for nine months now, you're still in Canada. He had thought he could handle a long-distance relationship. He couldn't have been more wrong. Your absence just kills him.

 As a boat whistle can be heard, Ivar slowly opens his eye and then looks around. Frowning, he scratches his head, confused and annoyed. Since the Lothbrok mansion is located on a hill overlooking Kattegat, there's never any reason to go by the seaside to get there. Never ever. "We're on the wrong road, Sven. Why are you going to the shore?" Ivar speaks in a demanding tone of voice that doesn't impress Sven one bit.

 The obedient chauffeur barely shrugs. "I'm just following orders, Sir. Your mother's orders."

 Now riled up, irked, Ivar snorts, his nostrils flaring. "My mother asked you to drive me here?" Without waiting for an answer, he takes his phone out of his back pocket, gasping as Sven comes to a halt in front of The Nimb Hotel, the hotel palace of Kattegat.

 When his mother doesn't pick up the phone, a sinking feeling growing in the pit of his stomach, he tries to get ahold of Hvitserk, Ubbe, and even Sigurd, but to no avail. Fuming, his hands curling into fists, Ivar clenches his teeth. Did his mother organize a fucking birthday party even though she knows he hates that? She wouldn't dare. No, she wouldn't.

 Oh, fuck. Sure, she would. She totally would. And it'd explain why she had been so adamant about having Sven drive him. She wanted him here, in this fucking hotel, and not at the mansion. It explains why his brothers don’t answer the phone. Because they know that if they did, he would yell at them to fuck off. He can’t believe it!! What’s got into his mother?? What the fucking hell??!!!!

 For a split second, he hovers a trembling pointer finger over the screen of his phone. Calling an Uber and going back to Copenhagen would be so easy. But as tempting as it may be to just run away, he knows he won't do it. He can't. Because it'd hurt his beloved mother, and the thought is unbearable, even though he's angry with her right now. That's why, whatever she may have planned, he'll deal with it, putting on a brave face for her sake.

 And that's why he doesn't object when Sven opens his door, "This way, Sir," his hand gesturing toward the hotel entrance, flanked by two ostentatious marble columns. Ivar uses his hands to place his right leg out of the car and he then slowly stands up, one hand on his crutch and the other on the car door, before following the gray-haired chauffeur, a permanent scowl on his face.

As they walk through the lobby, he is surprised when Sven leads him onto an elevator, pressing the twelfth-floor button. He would have thought that his mother would have privatized the hotel restaurant. But the restaurant is on the main floor. What's on the upper floors other than rooms? A roof terrace, probably. His mother would never throw an outdoor party in the middle of November though. Nothing makes sense.

 Confused, Ivar tilts his head while the lift is going up. "Where are we going?" Sven doesn't react to his harsh tone, just repeating his reply from earlier. "I'm following orders, Sir. I am walking you to where your mother ordered me to walk you." He doesn't utter another word, getting out of the elevator as soon as the door opens.

 Ivar tightens his grip on his crutch and follows him to what seems to be a hotel room. Or more specifically, and as it's written on the door, the executive suite. More and more bewildered, he watches Sven swiftly knocking on the door before using a card key to unlock it. Holding it open, the chauffeur steps aside, "I've been asked to tell you that the sunroom is over there," waving his hand slightly to the left, Sven then gives a slight nod to an astounded Ivar, "I now take my leave, Sir. I wish you a delightful evening."

  As Ivar slowly crosses the living room, the slight thud of his crutch on the hardwood floor alerts you of his presence. Shivering with excitement and your heart pounding in your chest, you struggle but don't move, don't say a word; not yet.

 Taking a tentative step into the sunroom, which, he's sure of it, offers during daytime a breathtaking view on the bay of Kattegat, a dumbfounded Ivar notices the candles first – there are candles everywhere, their soft glow creating an intimate ambience – and then the table for two elegantly set in the middle of the room.

 "What the fuck is going on?" Ivar grumbles, irritation obvious in his voice, and you know it's time for you to show up, or he may leave. Stepping toward him and into the light, you absently rub your sweaty palms up and down your black dress, your heart now beating so hard and so fast you wonder if he can hear it. This is it. The moment you were waiting for, for weeks now. You couldn't be happier, and yet you can't help but be nervous. Could he reject you? You don't think so but with Ivar, you never know… Swallowing the lump in your throat, and even if you can barely breathe, you manage to crack a smile at the exact moment he sets his eyes on you. "Happy birthday, my love, and happy anniversary too."

 Ivar's jaw drops, his eyes widen, and a soft gasp escapes his plump lips. He wobbles for an instant and you quickly close the gap between you and him, steadying him by placing both your hands on his hips. Your touch shaking him out of his stupor, he blinks a few times, his piercing blue eyes never leaving your face. "Y/N, is it… is it really you?" With a trembling voice and tears in his eyes, he stutters, dazed and surprised. "By the gods, what… what are you doing here?" His arm finding your waist, Ivar pulls you closer. There's a whirlwind of emotions on his face, but there's mostly love. You're sure he won't reject you.

 "Did you really think I was going to miss your birthday?" Standing on tiptoes, you give him a long kiss before whispering in his ear, "And I missed you so much, my love."

 Rough fingers caress your face as Ivar looks down at you incredulously. "But… I… I don't understand… I… I thought you were busy with work. But you're here… How?"

 "By plane, obviously," you quip playfully, and your lover rolls his eyes and shakes his head, before suddenly frowning. "That's really a wonderful surprise, Y/N, and I'd love to stay here with you but we… we should go… My mother… I think she's waiting for me, for us… You know, since it's my birthday, she wanted to throw…" Ivar stops talking when it dawns on him that he has been – to his delight – tricked, and you just smile. "Mother never planned a party, did she?"

 It's your turn to shake your head. "No, she never did, you're right. She knew I was coming and since I needed a little help, she agreed to play along. Tonight, it's just you and me, my love." Ivar's eyes sparkling with joy, your smile grows wider. "She's expecting us for lunch tomorrow, though."

 Nodding, Ivar flashes you a beaming smile that falters almost immediately as he shifts his weight from one foot to the other. As he stifles a hiss of pain, you wrap his right arm around your shoulder and your left around his waist. Without a word, you lead him to a corner of the sunroom, help him to sit down on a huge nest chair and finally breathe a sigh of satisfaction as you snuggle into his side.

 His hand running up your arm, Ivar cups your face and looks at you fondly. "You being here with me is the best birthday gift ever." He then kisses you passionately, his hands roaming your back and your fingers threading through his long hair. When he breaks the kiss, he still holds you close and you lean into his warmth, your head resting on his chest.

 "When are you flying back?" Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, Ivar clenches his jaw as you pull away just enough to look at him. You know he hates the idea of you leaving him once again. You don't have time to answer him as he keeps going. "Guess you'll stay through the weekend, but when is your flight? On Monday morning?"

 A mischievous smile playing on your lips, you wrap your fingers around his hand. "There's no flight, Ivar, not anymore. I'm not going anywhere. I'm afraid you're stuck with me, my love."

 Swallowing, Ivar just stares at you for long seconds, a frown on his confused face. "What… What are you talking about? If this is a joke, it's a very bad one." He eventually manages to say, his bottom lip trembling.

 "I swear it's not a joke." You reassure him as you readjust your position, straddling him carefully. Your thumb stroking his cheek, you give him a quick peck before explaining yourself. " I hate our current situation, and I know you do too. I don't want to live like this anymore, between two flights, between two countries. I don't want to miss you anymore. My life is with you, my love. And since you can't exactly relocate the Lothbrok Company, it's up to me to move, which I'm happy to do."  

 Dumbstruck, Ivar remains speechless for a long time, but you can tell by the smile on his lips that he's thrilled by the news. Tilting his head, he finds his voice again. "You are serious? Wow! You do realize you'll have to find a new job, learn another language? That's not nothing."

 "Actually," you place your hands flat on his chest, "I've already found a job. Floki still has strong connections here, did you know that? On the same day I made up my mind, he was already making calls. He has been amazing, truly! I start working in a rehab clinic within a fortnight. As for the language…", you stop and inhale deeply before saying hesitantly, "jeg er allerede begyndt at lære dansk." Ivar's wry smile tells you that your pronunciation could have been better, but you don't mind. It's a first step. "Anyway," you exclaim, beaming, "You know me, I love a challenge!"

 "I just can't fucking believe it!" Ivar shines with happiness and it melts your heart. His next question, though, makes you wince internally. Because on that particular point, you're suddenly afraid you've put the cart before the horse.

 "Where are you going to live?"

 Lowering your gaze, you begin to fidget nervously. "I…", you clear your throat, closing your eyes, "I was thinking… well… Maybe I could… I don't know if…" As soon as you realize you're getting nowhere, you stop; you know you have to muster up the courage to be straightforward. Releasing a short sigh, you tilt your head up. "I was hoping we could live together. I mean if you want to. It's fine if you don't, I'll rent an apartment."

 Literally thunderstruck, his eyes fixed on you, Ivar swallows loudly. "You… You…" He stammers, an incredulous expression on his face. "You want to live with… with me?"

 As you nod while muttering under your breath "Only if you want to," a broad smile spreads over his lips and he blinks a few times. "Of course, I do. But you do know that", his sheepish look is unmistakable, "I'm not exactly easy to live with, right?"

 Relief floods through you and you burst out laughing as you remember what he put you through when you were his physical therapist. "I do know you, my stubborn, grumpy, short-tempered and moody lover! And guess what, my love? I wouldn't want you any other way. Plus, as I said, I love a good challenge!"

 Without even trying to hide his elation, Ivar throws his arms around your waist, giggling, "It's a deal, then," before peppering light kisses all over your face. His mouth barely an inch from yours, he's about to kiss you as your stomach rumbles. Embarrassed, you want to hide your face but Ivar, all smiles and laughing eyes, grasps your hands, squeezing them. "Guess we should feed you."

 Checking your watch, you stand up reluctantly. "Actually," you point at the table behind you, "we should be served a meal in less than five minutes." Reaching out, you grab Ivar's left hand as he hauls himself to his feet, handing him his crutch once you're sure he found his balance.

 Now towering over you, Ivar gives you a thank-you smile. "So, tell me Y/N, what's the plan for tonight? Besides dinner, I mean." The naughty grin adorning his features tells you the answer he's hoping for.

 "Well," you can't resist teasing him, "I was thinking maybe we could take an after-dinner walk on the shore afterwards, and later, there's this wonderful documentary about penguins I wouldn't want to miss, so yeah, that's the plan."

 "Ooooh, look at you!" You can't help but laugh your head off as Ivar's smile falters, a crease forming between his eyebrows and pouty lips shouting his displeasure. "I'm just kidding, my love," you soothe him, your thumb grazing his mouth, "there's this whirlpool-bath I'm dying to try in the bathroom if you're up for it. And after that, I'm going to make love to you, my birthday boy." Ivar's breath hitches as your hands squeeze his butt cheeks playfully. "And then we'll sleep. And tomorrow we'll go and have lunch with your mother. And when we're done there, you'll…" Overwhelmed with emotion, you stop, your eyes filling with tears.

 "I'll…?" Ivar asks as a crooked smile tugs at his lips.

 You swallow away the lump in your throat, intertwining your fingers with his. "You'll take me home, won't you?"

 There are tears in his eyes as well, but when Ivar nods, the smile that flashes over his face is a wide, shining one. "Yes, my love, I'll take you home."

 🛡⚔️🛡

@honestsycrets​ @lisinfleur​ @waiting4inspiration​ @saldelys​ @gearhead66​ @inforapound​ @readsalot73​ @milkkygirls​ @xbellaxcarolinax​ @shannygoatgruff​ @zuxiezendler​ @a-mess-of-fandoms​ @hecohansen31​ @lonewolf471​ @ivarthebloodyking​ @fuckindiva​ @tgrrose​ @didiintheblog​ @peachyboneless​ @funmadnessandbadassvikings​ @ethereallysimple​ @destynelseclipsa​ @coco2315​ @mlchael-guerin​ @pieces-by-me​ @xceafh​

[pascalpanic]

Pilot’s Hands (Frankie Morales x f!reader)

Summary: Frankie takes you up flying in his helicopter. You can’t help but focus on those goddamn hands of his.

W/C: 2.4K

Warnings: SMUT (18+), finger penetration/fingering, language, lots of dirty talk and innuendos, please forgive the multiple puns I made, a singular smack to the ass. afab reader. talk of flying in helicopters and being rlly high above the ground. reader is nervous about heights.

A/N: Frankie smut is the best smut. This was requested by @notabotiswear!! I hope it’s what you were feeling, love!

Your hands grip the chair as the helicopter slowly lifts from the ground. There’s an urge deep inside of you to jump from it now, while you’re low, so that nothing can happen, that you can’t be lifted up. You want to scream and shout and rip these headphones from your ears and make it all stop, but you don’t. You grip the seat even harder and squeeze your eyes shut as you feel the pressure in your ears start popping and changing.

The anxiety eases instantly as you look to your left. There sits Frankie, guiding the helicopter. He looks absolutely fucking gorgeous, as usual. Today he wears a warm flannel over a t-shirt with his favorite beer’s logo. On top of his brown waves, which were extra unmanageable this morning, sits his favorite ball cap. He’d spent an unhealthy amount of time picking out just the right outfit today, since it was technically a date.

You smile a little at how focused he is. There are lines of concentration between his two thick eyebrows, his stubbly jaw clenched in concentration. His large hands navigate around the dashboard, controlling the massive machine as it pushes you up into the sky. It’s soothing when he’s the one doing it.

Frankie has always talked to you about his love of flying. It’s something you’ve never quite understood. He talks about it like it’s beyond any other experience. Flying is his happy place. He’s never more content than when he can control the big machine and soar through the sky. You’re the opposite. Flights usually required you to take an anxiety med and pass out. The feeling of being so far above the ground makes you panic and fills your brain with the worst possible scenarios.

There’s something better about it when the man you’d trust with your life- are trusting with your life- is the one piloting the machine. He sneaks you a smile as he notices you staring, but in an instant is back at the controls. You giggle and lean back in your chair, enjoying the view. Frankie’s got you.

The ascent continues. You’re still gripping the sides of the chair with all of the force your hands can create, and the anxiety seeps in. You close your eyes and force yourself to focus on your breathing. Even this high in the air, Frankie is your solid ground. You reach over and grab his thigh, knowing his hands are too busy to hold. Your fingers dig into his leg, but it’s no distraction.

Finally, Frankie slips one hand beneath yours and laces your fingers together. “Open those eyes, baby,” he asks, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. “We’re at the cruising altitude.”

Your eyes open and are filled with nothing but blue sky surrounding you. Looking to the sides, you can see your city surrounding the two of you. Everything looks so small. You’re unconsciously beaming, and when you turn to look at Frankie, he’s grinning back. “Cool, right?” He asks with an equally big smile.

“The coolest,” you nod in agreement and laugh. It’s astounding, really.

“Just one second, babe,” he tells you and drops your hands, pressing some buttons and flipping some switches. His hands are skilled, flying across the controls with practiced ease. His voice is smooth and even in tone as he talks to someone in his headset. He continues even as he talks to the controller, reaching over you to hit a far button.

He’s good to just steer now, you can tell, and you wrap both of your arms around one of his. He signs off from the call and looks over at you, then down at the arms on your hands. “You need something to hold onto?” He asks, leaning over and kissing your head briefly.

“You look sexy flying,” you chuckle and slide your hands down to his, holding it happily as you look around. “You’re just… so good at it,” you shrug and look around the cockpit.

He laughs softly. “I wonder how it happened,” he teases, pulling his hand back to he can use it to navigate. “Are you okay? Sure you’re not too anxious?” He asks. His eyes aren’t on you- they can’t afford to be right now, while you’re in the air- but his words are sincere.

You nod, beaming. “I trust the pilot more than I ever have.”

He shakes his head and smiles, adjusting his cap before flipping a few more switches. “You just keep telling me, okay? Let me know if you wanna be done early.”

“I think I can handle thirty minutes in the air, watching you be all cute and smart.”

“Smart? I don’t know about that one, baby,” he shakes his head but smiles down at the gauges he checks.

For a few minutes, it’s silent between the two of you. The hum of the engine and the spinning blades fills the space between you. You’re content to look around while Frankie pilots the two of you, snapping photos. At one point, you sneak a few photos of him, giggling at how cute he looks. You lean over and kiss his jaw through the stubble, which makes him grin and blush slightly. “Babe, I’m working,” he whines, but it’s all teasing, you both know. Frankie loves nothing more than some physical affirmation.

You chat quietly when he has the time to do so, when the machine doesn’t require as much of his attention. He’s fantastically skilled at multitasking, you notice, which makes you smirk a little. He’s so fucking good at what he does, those calloused hands dancing around the dash like a skilled piano player reciting a sonata, like an artist creating a masterpiece. And you suppose, to Frankie, flying is like an art.

“Do you know any tricks?” You ask at one point.

Frankie nods. “I can do barrel rolls and shit. I don’t think you’d want to feel that,” he chuckles, his hand resting on top of yours, which sits on his thigh.

“Oh fuck, not now,” you laugh softly. “But that’s really cool.” And hot, your primal brain, the one that seeks the best mate, tells you.

As the time in the air dwindles down to a stop, Frankie once again has to pay full attention. You return to your previous position: gripping your chair. Your hands aren’t as forceful now, far more trusting of Frankie and his skills. You can even look around as the world grows bigger and bigger as you approach it. Not long after, the helicopter lands, and you let out a deep sigh of relief. “Wow,” you laugh, a little bit of anxiety still in your voice. “Now I can tell you everything that I wanted to say in the air.”

Frankie looks over at you, tilting his head in confusion. “And what was that, exactly?”

“That you look so fucking hot,” you grin at him. “You do, really. You know what the fuck you’re doing, and that’s hot. And your hands, you’re so good with them,” you muse as you pick one up and play with the thick fingers attached.

This time, Frankie’s smiling. “Oh yeah?”

You nod happily. “Mhm. Just look so good when you’re using them. Makes me think of other things they’re good at.”

He’s a little red, but he grins. “Really?”

“You know that. I’m never quiet about how good you are with them, am I?” You tease and laugh.

Frankie’s face tinges with red, and his Adam’s apple bobs hard with a gulp. “Don’t do this to me yet, baby,” he chuckles and shakes his head. He removes your headphones once the blades have stopped rotating, then his own, and unstraps the both of you.

Frankie gets out then helps you down from the chopper. One of the other men who works at the field comes over to say hello, and he snaps a photo of you and Frankie for you.

The picture is perfect: the blue skies in the background contrast the dark metal of Frankie’s helicopter. He has both arms around you, and you have one hand pressed to his chest. You’re both grinning, both wearing flannels and each in one of his ball caps: you stole one this morning before you left his house.

He walks away after you both thank him, and Frankie leans in close. “Gotta get some shit done in the hangar. Won’t be more than ten minutes. Go wait for me in the car, baby girl,” he murmurs in your ear. He gives you a little smack on the ass, which makes you start to scamper off.

You grab his keys from his pocket, then toss a flirty smile over your shoulder as you walk to the parking garage.

-

Twenty minutes later, you’re sitting shotgun in Frankie’s truck. He removes his cap and runs a hand through those curls before putting it back. You watch it, noticing the way the knuckles bend and fold. He looks over at you and notices the expression on your face. “You still thinking about them, baby girl?” He asks with a growing smirk.

You nod, the wetness in your panties growing. “Mhm. Think you could pilot me?”

Frankie rests a hand on your thigh, tracing circles into the skin. “Unzip those jeans for me, baby. Let’s find out.”

You’re in a parking garage, and no one else is around. It’s early on a Saturday morning, but the risk is just as exciting. You do as he says, and Frankie slides his fingers beneath your panties.

The pads of his ring and middle fingers start at the top of your folds, tracing down the damp skin until they reach your entrance. “Fuck,” he groans at how wet you already feel. His fingers swirl around just millimeters inside of you, taking the wetness and removing his hand, bringing it up to your mouth. “Gotta get them ready for me first, honey. You’re already plenty wet, but I wanna make it good for you.”

You oblige and take his fingers in your mouth, sucking on them dutifully and moaning around them. They’re so thick and strong, and the thought makes you spread your legs wider. “Good girl,” Frankie almost growls before bringing his fingers back down to your entrance and slipping them inside of you.

You cry out, your hand gripping the side of your seat once more; this time, it isn’t from anxiety, but from pleasure. They scissor you open slowly, those thick digits reaching deep inside to that spot you can never quite reach with your own. “Ah, fuck,” you whimper as the heel of his palm grinds against your clit. “I was thinking about this the whole time we were flying, Frankie. Your fingers and how good they feel inside me.”

He bites his lip, curling his toes in effort to not get hard right here and now. As much as he loves doing this, loves the risk, this is all the two of you can afford. It’s too late: he’s already got a semi tenting in his jeans.

“Yeah? That’s what you were thinking, dirty girl?” He almost purrs, his voice deep and desperate. “I’m trying to keep us from falling and dying, and all you could think about was how good it feels when I do this?”

As he says this, his fingers curl deep inside you and brush against your g-spot. “Fuck, yeah,” you nod, panting now. You’re sweating, probably through your t-shirt, but you don’t care. It feels too good. One hand of yours grips his wrist, as if it could keep him from pulling away. As if he ever would in the first place.

“Such a good girl, so wet for me,” he groans as he forces himself to stop his hips from bucking into the air, against nothing. “I could do whatever the fuck I wanted to you and you’d let me, couldn’t I?” He murmurs. “You’d even let me fuck you in that helicopter. No anxiety when you got my dick inside you, huh?”

You nod. “You could, yeah,” you groan, your other hand digging into the leather seat. “Anything you want, you got it,” you nod. “Feels so good, anything you do does.”

He smirks. “Maybe I’ll have to try that sometime, huh? Have you keep my cock warm while I fly?”

“Anything,” you repeat breathless, shuddering beneath him. The heel of his palm grinds harder into your clit and it’s all too much. “Frankie, baby, gonna cum, almost there.”

“That’s it, baby girl,” he nods, working his fingers harder. “Cum for me,” he demands, and who are you to disobey such a wonderful order?

Your walls clamp down hard on his thick fingers, the pleasure overwhelming you. “Frankie!” You cry out, head falling into the headrest of the seat.

Everything in your body is pulsing, desperate, pumping red-hot blood that feels like it’s infused with some kind of illicit drug to produce such a high. You whine his name again and again until it’s all too much, and you squeeze his wrist gently, asking him to be done.

He complies, tracing his fingers through your folds before they press against your lips again. “Clean me off, baby.”

You nod and take them in your mouth, lavishing them with your tongue the way you would with his cock, which you’re now growing more and more desperate for.

He pulls them out with a pop and dries them on his flannel, smirking over at you. “Goddamn, honey,” he murmurs as he looks at how wrecked you are just from his fingers. Before you can say anything, Frankie whips the truck into drive and peels out of the parking spot.

The sound of squealing rubber startles you, making you jump and squeal as you button your jeans and zip them. “Frankie!” You gasp and smack his arm. “What the fuck was that?”

His eyes are dead-set on the road, determined not to look at you, not to detract from his mission. “I’m getting us home as soon as I physically can so I can feel that around my dick,” he says, teeth grit in concentration.

He’s rock hard, you can see, and you offer a soft rub into his crotch. “Oh, baby,” you chuckle excitedly, staring at the road ahead of you. It’s going to be a long ride home for the two of you.

It’s safe to say that your anxiety over flying has lessened.

-

taglist:

@remmysbounty @mishasminion360 @softly-sad @blo0dangel @luxurybeskar @binarydanvvers  @sleep-tight1 @apascalrascal @randomness501 @spideysimpossiblegirl @notabotiswear @pedro-pastel @sanchosammy @lv7867

[purpureumwrites]

Homelander x Reader | Sweetheart, I’m a gentleman

A/N: The request mentioned “trying to rape” but I left it in extremely innapropriate. Justifying how reader would get to the boys didn’t make too much sense without a little cameo here. Hope you’re happy with it, I’m a bit unsure about it? (This kind of has potential for a part 2 with mainly the boys now that I think about it)

Summary: Reader is not just a human from Earth, but Homelander has no idea what he’s up to.

Warnings: None. Uncomfortable situation.

Word count: 1.2k

Weeks ago you joined Vought. It was an easy administrative job, nine to five, that provided enough money for you to live simply. A normal job like any other where you could blend in with the rest of the ever growing company. Perfect for you. Perfect for someone hiding in plain sight, in a planet that wasn’t their own.

You had been working there for two or three months when you started feeling the observant eyes of a man watching you from afar. The building was full of people constantly, from supes to their neurotic marketing teams to the poor people cleaning after them. It crossed your mind that it might be just your imagination but yours instincts rarely failed you. Not that you were concerned.

The floor were you worked was practically empty. Most of the building was already in the dark and through the windows you could see the lights of the city. You often left late. Your schedule was pretty flexible, as long as the work was done when it should. So you woke up later in the morning and enjoyed the few quiet last hours, after most employees had already left. It was such a different place at that time of the day.

It was around 8pm when you were content with your progress for the day. You turned off your computer and made a quick trip for the bathroom before picking up your things and leave. While you walked back through the dark corridor to the huge, open plan office you saw a man that wasn’t there before. Definitely not sitting on your desk, definitely not wearing a blue suit and a red cape.

He smiled when you approached him, very sure of himself.

“I’ve been looking forward to meet you”, he said, standing up. “I’m Homelander”

“Yeah, everyone knows”, you shrugged.

Big, powerful man thinking it was appropriate to approach a lonely woman in a deserted floor at night? Repulsive.

As you had planned, you started tidying up your desk and setting your bag to leave. You saw his smile falter in the corner of your eye. Your colleagues had expressed their concerns about you leaving so late, when it was already dark and unsettling and they thought anything might happen to you. You shrugged it off. There wasn’t a man on Earth that could harm you.

Your lack of attention seemed to bother Homelander. He stood there for a few seconds, surprised by your reaction. He cleared his throat before recovering his composure. He took another step forward, approaching you from behind while you shuffled through the things on your bag, that was resting in your chair.

You could hear his heart beat with perfect clarity. It was pumping faster now, probably bothered by your apathy. He could probably count with his fingers how many people would ignore him so blatantly, specially without their knees shaking afterwards. Even if he wasn’t a extraordinarily powered, famous, big man, how many women wouldn’t be smiling and playing along out of pure survival instinct?

He put a hand on your waist, turning you around and pinning you against him.

“You are a very beautiful woman”, he smiled like a someone who hadn’t broken a plate in his life.

“If I were you, I would put away that hand”

“Sweetheart, I am a gentleman”, he answered towering over you.

Before he had time to react, you took his wrist and twisted it behind his back, pushing him face down to the table with your other hand. You felt him struggle and saw his eyes light up red.

“I did warn you”

Homelander blinked, astounded. He tried to rise up again, but you were far too strong. Stronger than Homelander? That wasn’t possible. If there was a supe that powerful, Vought would have taken advantage of it a long time ago. Not just that, you would have certainly joined The Seven at that point.

And now, in the most humilliating position he had ever found himself in, he was weighing his options and the huge risk you could mean for him. But you were just some office lady, why would you be keeping your powers a secret?

“I was just fooling around. But, I have to say, there are a few cameras around us. Not that anyone checks them in the regular, but if someone reminded them like, you know, Homelander himself, some people might be very curious about you”

He chuckled when he saw the panic in your eyes, looking around for them. The same way his overconfidence had betrayed him, your own had just betrayed you. The moment they did any kind of health check, they would realize there was something very out of the ordinary. You weren’t a human with crazy powers. You weren’t a supe. You weren’t a human at all. And it had taken a lot of effort hiding it from the world. The videos wouldn’t prove anything but they would certainly be too interesting and would draw very undesired and dangerous attention.

“You will not”

“What are you going to do? Kill me?”, he faked being deep in thought. “Not likely while we’re live. Though I’m very curious to see how you would manage that”

A soft voice spoke from the door.

"Everything okey?", asked a petite blond girl dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt. Starlight.

***

You and the girl stood on the elevator. You had seen her before, from afar, and didn’t think much of her. Pretty, blond, awfully polite... boring. Without the suit, she still was your typical naive looking girl, but the change in her demeanor, the fact that she wasn’t trying to be anyone but herself, gave her a different character.

“You know he’s not gonna leave you alone, right?”, she asked looking straight forward.

“Really?”, you answered trying not to sound defeated.

She took her hand out of her pocket and spread it towards you. You took the small white piece of paper inside it. An address.

“Go there. Tell them you’ve got a… problem with Homelander and they will take you in. About being a supe… I would tread lightly, but they’re not bad guys, it should be okey. No one hates him more than they do and I think you might be able to help them”

“I’m not a… sure”, you backtracked. “I’ll keep that in mind”

***

You walked into the foul smelling back alley and found the door you supposed was the one. You knocked, not sure what to expect. The girl had walked in the opposite direction the moment you left the building. You knocked. After the voices inside quieted down, you heard heavy steps approaching. As the door opened, a tall man, with a grim face, looked you up and down.

“And who the fuck might you be… darling?”

[sunshinebuckybarnes]

Well here we go again lads! 

Here’s my list of some of the incredible fics I’ve read this month. Honestly, the talent of the people on this site continues to astound me. 

If you read any of these amazing fics, please reblog them! These writer’s are all so talented and deserve so much love for sharing their content! 

Nothing but love, hugs and gratitude to all of you! 💖💘✨

Friday night dates by @angrythingstarlight (Bucky Barnes x reader)

An all around sweet and lovely fic! And when Bucky gets protective? The SOFTNESS of him.

Paralien by @the-iceni-bitch​​ (soft!Winter Soldier x fem!reader)

So so so soft. I just want to hold onto him forever after reading this! 🥺

Baby steps by @that-damn-girl (Bucky Barnes x (cis/trans)female!reader)

Apparently I’ve been on the soft shit this month... this so soft and sweet it was like a warm hug.

An Indecent Proposal by @imanuglywombat (Bucky Barnes x reader, Dark!Steve Rogers x reader)

The layers to this story, christ! Silver fox CEO Steve is a smug menace and I don’t want to love it but I do. And Bucky? Sweet, sweet boyfriend Bucky is an angel and I just want to hold him. 

I licked it, it’s mine by @whisperlullaby​ (Sam Wilson x reader) 

LOVED this! I just want Sam to call me sugar, is that really too much to ask?

Escape by @firefly-in-darkness (Stucky x reader)

I’m such a whore for soft Bucky but then jealous Bucky shows up with a side of Steve and I just lost it! 

A tender heart by @river-soul (Alpha!Bucky x Omega!reader)

I’m so excited to see where this series goes! They’re honestly just the cutest pair so far and I am loving it!

Better than working by @angrythingstarlight​ (Beefy Biker!Bucky x reader)

As someone who has been working from home for nearly a year I have to say it makes me very sad that I don’t have Bucky to distract me. But at least this fic can let me indulge!

Coming home to you by @angrythingstarlight​ (Beefy Biker!Bucky x reader)

Continuing the biker Bucky hype. Christ this was hot. Out of the two endings I honestly can’t pick a favourite!

Neighborly behaviour by @angrythingstarlight (Beefy Biker!Bucky x reader

And more biker Bucky ❤️ This man is a menace in the best way I swear to god!

What are the odds? by @jobean12-blog​ (Bucky Barnes x reader)

I honestly just didn’t want this to end. So delicious! 

Mile high club by @gogolucky13​ (Bucky Barnes x reader)

It’s Bucky Barnes in an aeroplane bathroom. What more could you possibly want? Not to mention he’s super sweet in this and it melts me. 

Whispers of the past by @kalesrebellion​ (Bucky Barnes x reader)

I’m super intrigued by the concept with this. The reader’s power is so interesting. There are definitely some dark elements so far but I can’t wait to see where this goes!

What we see in the stars by @jobean12-blog​ (Bucky Barnes x reader)

Literally the absolute CUTEST thing! 

Seeing red by @mypoisonedvine​ (Bodyguard!Bucky x actress!reader)

This series is phenomenal! Every chapter is so damn good. It’s got everything, angst, fluff, smut. It’s a dream! Seriously do yourself a favour and read this!

The locker room by @honeysucklesteve​ (Bucky Barnes x reader x Steve Rogers)

HOT DAMN! This killed me in the best way!

Only mine by @simsadventures​ (Mobster!Bucky Barnes x reader)

I LOVED this series! The reader is so fierce it’s amazing and Mob Bucky is always a pleasure. 

Restraint by @stargazingfangirl18​ (Ransom Drysdale x fem!reader)

Pretty sure my brain short circuited when I read this and I’ve definitely read it a few more times!

Banana pancakes by @whisperlullaby​ (Andy Barber x reader)

Andy Barber is the ultimate dream and if you disagree with me then read this fic!

Play well with others by @navybrat817​ (Mob!Bucky Barnes x reader, Mob!Steve Rogers x reader)

Mob Bucky just hits different and this is so fucking hot! I love the dynamics between Bucky and Steve as well as Bucky and reader and the ending is so tender I melted. 

Barber & Weiss by @jtargaryen18​ (Dark!Andy Barber x Dark!MikeWeiss x reader)

Strap yourself in for this series because it is the GOOD STUFF. Do I want Andy? Do I want Mike? At the minute, it’s impossible to decide and I can’t wait to see what happens next.

Beg me by @jobean12-blog​ (Nomad!Steve x reader)

Oooh mama! This was an absolute treat! Nomad Steve honestly has a free pass to do whatever he wants. 

Unbroken by @constantwriter85​ (Bucky Barnes x fem!reader)

This series really takes you through every emotion. I was rooting for these two throughout the whole thing and the ending was honestly so perfect. 

Catfish by @vampy-doll​ (Dark!Andy Barber x reader)

Such a whirlwind of emotion throughout this whole series! Andy is such a conflicting character in this and it all just gets deeper as the story unravels. Can’t wait to see what happens next!

Necessary Arrangements by @stargazingfangirl18​ (Andy Barber x Fem!Reader; Ari Levinson x (Different) Fem!Reader)

This is an absolute MASTERPIECE!! Each part is incredible and the way they intertwine is magnificent! 

Morning wood by @angrythingstarlight​ (Nomad!Steve Rogers x reader)

So fun and so fucking hot! Sexy neighbour Steve Rogers is a god send!

Movie night with cap by @drabblewithfrannybarnes​ (Steve Rogers x female reader)

This starts off so soft and lovely and then descends into pure filth and I LOVE it!

Ten minute recess by @whisperlullaby​ (Andy Barber x reader)

This killed me (in the best way!) Andy Barber truly has a free pass to do whatever he wants. 

Season’s of love by @constantwriter85​ (Bucky Barnes x fem!reader)

The softest, cutest and loveliest thing!

Satisfaction guaranteed by @evansweaters​ (Stucky x reader)

This is so damn delicious! I swear to god I would lose my MIND!

Temperature control by @amythedvdhoarder​ (Bucky Barnes x reader)

Super fun and super cute. Bucky is a sly little devil!

Awestruck by @mypoisonedvine​ (Lee Bodecker x modern!reader)

Never thought I’d be a Lee kinda gal but damn this fic helped to sway me. 

Property damage by @river-soul​ (Steve Rogers x reader)

I love this! I always wonder what happens in the aftermath and this is so good!

Leave out all the rest by @avintagekiss24​ (Chris Beck x black!reader)

So stunning! The emotion, their connection, it’s so beautiful! 

Drunken sin by @whisperlullaby​ (Ransom Drysdale x reader)

Soft Ransom will honestly be the death of me. 

The lunch club by @sweetflowerdreams​ (Andy Barber x reader)

I really didn’t know what to expect with this series and so far it’s provided some great twists and turns! I’m excited to see what happens next! 

Nowhere to run by @sagechanoafterdark​ (Dark!Steve Rogers x reader)

There is SO MUCH going on in this series! They’re both so twisted in their own way I can’t figure out what’s gonna happen next but I’m excited!

Smooth by @firefly-in-darkness​ (Sam Wilson x reader)

Sam Wilson is just the softest and cutest guy around isn’t he?

Somnus by @sweeterthanthis​ (Nomad!Steve x Reader)

Trust me when I say, this is the absolute dream 🔥

Cock worship by @ozarkthedog​ (Andy Barber x reader)

It’s exactly what it says in the title. I would worship at this man’s alter every damn day!

Paper thin by @xbuchananbarnes​ (Sam Wilson x reader)

This is so so cute! Their relationship and dynamic is adorable.

Match of three by @heyiamthatbitch​ (Boxer!Steve Rogers x Ring Girl!Reader x Boxer!Bucky Barnes)

I mean just look at the warnings on this one. It checks all the boxes 🔥

Love, honor and obey by @constantwriter85​ (Mob!Bucky Barnes x fem!reader)

This series is EVERYTHING!! I’m so sad it’s over but it was such a joy to read ❤️

Easy to be loved by @infernal-fire​ (Steve x Hindu!reader)

So bloody cute! Steve is just such boyfriend material.

Love me tender by @thatfuckingweirdo (Bucky Barnes x female!reader)

Yes to all of it 🔥

Wilderness by @honeysucklesteve (lumberjack!steve rogers x reader)

I’d honestly rip the engine out of my car with my bare hands if this was the end result! 

A claiming by @wanderinglunarnights (Curtis Everett x reader)

This two parter is *chefs kiss* 

The recruit by @moonstruckbucky (Steve Rogers x fem!Reader x Bucky Barnes)

Okay I binged this whole series and it is SO GOOD! The dynamics between each of the characters are so interesting and I can’t wait to see how it all plays out. 

And literally everything @sweeterthanthis has written for her 4K Drabble celebration! 🔥❤️

[crescentsteel]

Keeping a Secret - Part 1

pairing: Tsukishima x f!manager of Sendai Frogs genre: sexual tension/crack warnings: lots of swear words  wc: 4.8k 

a/n: 

Thank you @tokyosdawn​ and @oii-sugasan​ for the betaread!

As always, let me know if you want to be part of the taglist. 

Prologue || masterlist

You notice an unfamiliar presence by the entrance. You stare at them for some time from your seat to see if they’ll leave, but after a few minutes of them standing idly there, you decide to deal with them.

“How may I help you?”

You cross your arms as soon as you reach the entrance. It’s a green-haired guy with freckles wearing casual clothes. You’re pretty sure you’ve seen him somewhere. You study him, scrutinizing his build from the loose hoodie, which didn’t give anything away, down to his denim pants which verifies your hunch.

Yep. Most likely a volleyball player. 

You probably saw him play somewhere before if he’s familiar, but you haven’t seen him in any recent games.

“I’m sorry, but this gym is closed for training,” you announce strictly. You’re not sure if he's actually from other teams, but you’re not taking any chances. You can’t have people spying on your players. Never mind that this guy is doing a bad job of making it discreet.

“Oh, sorry,” he gives you a panicked apology which doesn’t decrease your suspicion one bit. “I’m Tsukki’s friend. I just came by to return his headphones.”

Tsu...kki?

You hear Kogane use that name for Tsukishima all the time but hearing it from this guy sounds different. It’s very warm and pleasant to the ears. 

“Tsukki,” you test it out with your own lips, liking the way it rolls out your tongue.

“Yeah. Tsukishima? Is he here?” the green-haired guy asks, thinking you don’t know who this ‘Tsukki’ is.

It’s decided. From now on, you’ll call him Tsukki too. Oohhh, you can’t wait to see how he’ll react as you roll the nickname of your tongue with your very own ‘pleasantness’ reserved only for Tsukishima.

But more importantly...

You scan the green-haired guy again as he takes out something from his bag; white Sony headphones. It’s Tsukishima’s alright. He always has the thing on his neck whenever he comes to the gym, when he leaves, and on bus rides during tournaments. It’s like his part of his anatomy.

Thinking back, it was no wonder he looked off you to you when he came in that afternoon -- he didn’t have his headphones around his neck.

“I didn’t mean to intrude. He’s not answering his phone, so I waited. If you don’t mind, can you give this to him?” the guy  asks while handing the headphones at you with a very kind smile and a faint blush that accentuated his freckles.

This is Tsukishima’s friend? This is his friend? For real? How can someone so adorable and nice be his friend? Not that Tsukishima is incapable of making friends, but this guy here is so timid, adorable, kind, and everything Tsukishima isn’t. 

“I’m sorry. What’s your name again?” A subtle smile forms on your face from how interesting this friend of Tsukishima’s is. 

“Uhh. Tadashi Yamaguchi.”

Yamaguchi? You’re positive you’ve heard that name somewhere. You rack your memory on where you could have possibly seen him from.

You clap your hands in realization. “Yamaguchi! Captain of Karasuno, the float server. Oh my God, I am so sorry for being so rude earlier.”

He seems surprised as well that you know him. You didn’t remember it immediately because it was years ago, but even in high school, you’ve followed volleyball teams that you find interesting. So when you became a manager, the players of the teams weren’t really new to you. 

“Do you still play?” you ask out of curiosity since he’s not in your grid. 

“For fun, yeah,” he responds, laughing nervously.

Oh my. That’s so precious of him. You walk closer towards him until you’re at his side. You rest a hand on his shoulder and lean a bit closer. “Do you mind if I call you, Yams?”

Yamaguchi flusters from your touch. Earlier, you were so scary, looking like you wanted to throw him out of the gym. Now, you’re suddenly too close with an overly friendly smile.

“S-sure,” he agrees out of the domineering aura you give off despite the nice smile you have. 

“Cool!”

He can tell you’re really pleased, but he doesn’t know why.

“We’re cutting practice today because our coach is out. You can wait for him inside if you want.” you offer nicely to which he accepts.

You must be the manager Tsukki is talking about, Yamaguchi thinks. You’re not at all what he expected. Granted, he based only off of Tsukki’s explicit and detailed descriptions of how ‘detestable’ you are. You were a bit stern a while ago but he can understand that because he was practically a stranger.

You’re a bit weird, sure, but you’re not as evil as his best friend says you are. It’s actually nice of you to let him come in. Tsukki always tells him not to go there because visitors aren’t allowed. 

“Can I ask your name as well?” He asks hesitantly.

“Oh right! My bad. I’m y/n. I’m their manager.” You stop in one of the benches and sit. You beckon him to join you.

“So, how long have you been friends with Tsukishima?” You ask while watching the team with their spiking drills. 

“We’ve been best friends since middle school.” 

You raise one eyebrow and break into a wide smile even with your watchful gaze focused on the team. He can’t tell if it’s because of him or you saw something mirthful. “Ahhh. I see.” 

“How’s he doing here?” Yamaguchi asks, curious to know what you think of Tsukki.

“Great! I’ve seen him play in high school and I thought he’s really smart. But being his manager? He’s a fucking piece of work. He finds it fun when he says something sarcastic to others. He sucks at team spirit. Everyone will be hyped as heck and he’d just be standing there giving us nothing. I have to manhandle him 90% of the time, and he despises me with a passion because of it.” You simper with your last statement. 

Yamaguchi wonders how Tsukki would react about being ‘manhandled.’ However, from what he can tell, you don’t actually despise Tsukki. On the contrary, your eyes twinkled with amusement as you talked about him, despite the sharpness of your words..

You settle down with a smile as you fixate your eyes on the subject of the conversation. 

“Honestly though, I think he’s a great player. He’s disciplined. When he’s at his best during matches, I could just kiss his big brain from the consistent smart plays he does. And between you and me, Yams. Behind those uncaring, dead eyes he has, I know he loves it here. He loves the sport.”

Yamaguchi is astounded at how profound your understanding of his best friend’s personality is. But yeah, he can see why Tsukki doesn’t like you. Tsukishima didn’t like the mere prospect of being ‘put in line.’

“Oh look. They’re done now. Let’s go call your friend.”

You cup your palms around your lips and take in a deep breath. “Tsukki!” 

Yamaguchi and Tsukishima both flinch when you suddenly yell.

Tsukishima shudders at how nauseating his nickname resonated from your pretentious, frilly voice. He could tell right away that it was you. He could recognize that tone from anywhere. In the three years you’ve been the manager, you never called him that. 

So why now?

He turns around to see what your deal is today, only to find you beaming with one hand in the air eagerly waving at him, and beside you is…Yamaguchi?

Yamaguchi joins you in waving at him. Your obnoxiousness and the obliviousness of his friend makes it even more odious. He should be used to it by now, but you always come up with more annoying antics to bug him with. 

“Tsukki!!” You call out again. “Your best friend is here.” You announce with all smiles. 

What the hell? Why did Yamaguchi tell you that? Knowing you, you’d find ways to use it against him. As if calling him by that nickname isn’t enough.

He lengthens his strides to your direction, and even though he’s trying his best to look unbothered, you know he is. It’s pretty easy for you to tell. After all, you’ve been observing every member so carefully to the point that you can pick up the changes in their demeanor and facial expression. Especially, Tsukki who was a pain in the ass in your first year of being a manager. You had to watch him more closely than others ‘cause aside from his well thought sarcasm, there’s literally nothing else you could get from him.

Having your eyes on him for three years, you became aware of the little changes in his front, like that barely noticeable scowl in the corner of lips and the slight squint of his eyes. 

He’s pissed. 

Oh lord. Why must Tsukishima be so goddamn entertaining? It’s even funnier that he doesn’t acknowledge you at all, turning his complete attention to his friend. Your cheeks hurt from how wide you’re smiling.

“What’re you doing here?” He asks Yamaguchi disinterestedly. 

“He came here to return your headphones,” you answer on behalf of Yamaguchi. Tsukishima gives you only one quick glance before turning to his freckled visitor. “Let’s go. We’re done with training today.” Then he walks away to the lockers. 

Yamaguchi stands abruptly and bows to you. “Nice to meet you, y/n.”

You wave at him amicably. “Nice to meet you too, Yams.”

Tsukishima wished he didn’t hear that. Yamaguchi visits one time and you give him a nickname already? 

“She’s not that bad,” Yamaguchi comments once they’re out of the gym.

“Yeah. She’s worse.” He’d like to tell his friend not to interact with you, but what Yamaguchi does is not up to him. He can only warn him. “Don’t be swayed by her smiling face. She looks dumb, but something’s going on in her head all the time.” 

“She’s very pretty.”

He looks at Yamaguchi with a vexed frown. “So? That doesn’t change anything.”

Yamaguchi laughs nervously. “Yeah, yeah. Of course, it doesn’t. I just noticed.” He’s not going to deny that, but to him, that superficial shit doesn’t matter. You are a repugnant presence when you want to be, and that’s all he can ever associate your face with.

“I think she’s really looking out for the team though,” Yamaguchi points out. 

“I don’t wanna talk about her anymore.” He doesn’t need any more reminder of what he’s very much aware of. He doesn’t want to think about you when he doesn’t have to. Your presence already plagues him enough when you’re present. 

“Sorry! Anyways, I’m meeting with Yachi tonight. Wanna come?”

He wouldn’t mind going, but he has plans for tonight. “Can’t. I have a group project I have to finish.”

“It’s fine! Next time then.”

—

This is why Tsukishima hates group projects. He should’ve done the whole thing himself. Instead, he’s in a crowded bar (Or is it a club? He can’t tell the difference. Not that it matters anyway.) looking for his groupmate who thought it was best to put the data in a flash drive instead of uploading them somewhere he can access.

He can’t count the number of times someone has bumped on him. The place reeks of alcohol and cigarettes. He has trouble seeing because the lights are too dim. His ears hurt from the loud music banging on every corner.

He dials the number of his teammate again. One more unanswered call and he’s doing the project on his own from scratch.  It doesn’t matter if that means staying up all night because of it. He’d rather do that than stay in this foul place any longer than he should.

He navigates through the clusters of people, trying to spot his groupmate while ringing their phone. It’s a good thing he’s tall. If he isn’t, he’d be swept up by this sea of drunk party-goers by now.

His eyes scan the place for the millionth time, still listening to the endless ringing from his phone when he spots something in the crowd.

It’s not his groupmate however, but an oddball wearing a onesie pajama, looking completely out of place. The hood of the cloth is clad over half of their face but he has a very bad feeling who they are.

And just as he thought, you reveal your own face by pushing back the hood previously hiding it.

He’s not surprised you’re in this lame gathering organized by a fraternity in the university. But he’s not happy about it either. 

That’s it. He’s going home and he'll do the project himself. He can’t let you see him there.

Just as he’s about to step away, a guy starts getting handsy on you while you’re talking to another girl. You must have noticed it too because even though you keep conversing with the girl, you also keep swatting the hands of the guy.

Tsukishima is frozen in place. There is a busy tone on his cell now, but he doesn’t press redial right away. Right now, he’s deciding whether he should intervene or not. 

It isn’t like what you do or what happens to you outside the court is any of his business. Plus, he doesn’t want to get involved with you. Ever . But… something about the scene unfolding in front of him ticks him off. It is common sense that people should be left alone when they want to be left alone. But this imbecile… rather than being discouraged, the pervert becomes even more persistent. 

He steps closer to the scene pushing through the crowd. He decides to ‘nicely’ tell the perv off. You’re annoying, but you don’t deserve being harassed. But before he even gets close enough to cut in, you face the guy and shock everyone near you by giving the guy a well-executed jab on the face. 

Everyone stops whatever they’re doing and stares at you. Impressive, knowing how occupied everyone had been. Tsukishima doesn’t particularly like violence, but fuck . That was one mean hook delivered nicely on the guy’s lousy face. 

“I SAID FUCK OFF!” you shout at the guy who fell on his ass from your punch. The music was loud but because everyone froze from how you just sent a guy flying, your voice was heard. You take a deep breath and comb your hair back, glaring at the staring crowd.

Suddenly...

“YEAH!!” The place roars with cheers for you as you break into a wide smile for everyone. The bass drops and everyone is dancing around once more.

He sighs. Why did he even think you needed help? You manage a bunch of boys almost everyday. Good for him though. At least he didn’t have to interact with you and he can go home now. 

Or not.

Before he can make his retreat, your eyes meet - his full of charin and yours full of zest. You disregard whoever you’re talking to earlier, pushing everyone aside to reach him.

Tsukishima thinks that maybe he should have ran away when he had the chance. Maybe he could even have pretended to not see you.

Anyway, it is too late now.

“Oh my God. It really is you, Tsukki!” Your eyes are wide from disbelief and amusement from his presence in the place. “You actually go to these places?!”

He hasn’t answered yet, but you already cut him off by suddenly screaming when the song changed. “I LOVE THIS SONG!” He’s sure you weren’t talking to him. You were regarding the area eagerly like you were talking to everybody who’s there. 

Then you start moving weirdly. You’re swaying your hips in a one second late from the beat of the music. You’re banging your head side to side while you’re flailing your arms all over the place. You look like a fledgling who was just thrown out of the nest. 

“Are you supposed to be dancing?” He asks but you don’t hear it.

You look so horrendous that he’s getting secondhand embarrassment from the people around giving you second glances. This is his chance to get sarcastic with you, but you look like you won’t be ashamed of anything even if he does say something about that ghastly display of body movements. 

“C’mon Tsukki!” You grab his wrist and give him the unfortunate experience of ‘dancing’ with you while he stays completely still while you randomly swing his limb from one point to another. 

You don’t take Tsukishima as a person who’d go to parties. You don’t even have any clue as to what his idea of having fun is. You peg him to be someone who prefers the quiet rather than the chaos. Saying that seeing him here is surprising, is an understatement.

Even though you like seeing your players all serious with training, you want them to have a balanced lifestyle, especially those who are working or studying. Since there is no training tomorrow, you don’t mind seeing him here being a normal college student.

You take a peek at Tsukishima to see if he’s having a blast like you are, but only sees him standing still with an inconvenienced expression. You stop dancing and burst out laughing. Amidst all the people grooving around, he sticks out like a sore thumb because of his height and his evident discontent in being here. It’s like he’s a very tall building mistakenly built in the middle of a lively forest. 

You didn’t have the wrong impression of him. You’re spot on as you witness him getting even more displeased by the minute. 

You release his hand and put both of yours on your hips with a regaled smile. “What are you even doing here?!” 

He rolls his eyes, but he looks relieved that you finally stopped dancing. He mumbles something but is drowned out by the chatters and the loud music. “Sorry, what?!” He should know that the only reason he can hear you is because you’re basically yelling. At this rate, you expect him to walk out already. 

What you don’t  expect is for him to lean down with his mouth just an inch away from your ear. You instantly inhale his scent. You can tell that he hasn’t been here too long. He smells like citrus with a hint of mint, while everyone else smells like sweat and alcohol with a hint of vomit. You vaguely wonder what you smell like right now.

You’ve always pestered him, but this is the closest you two have been, so this is the first time you’re acquainted with his scent and find that you like it. You’ve never liked men with strong musky scents. You prefer it like this - refreshing and comforting, especially in this smoke-infested club.

“I’m looking for a classmate,” he whispers in your ear then quickly retreats back to his stoic standing position. Oh, of course. What are you suddenly flustered for? It’s much easier on your throat to be whispering than shouting your words. Yes, yes. You can really rely on Tsukishima for brainpower. 

You place your hands on his shoulder and tiptoe to reach his ear. Doing so, you only manage to reach his neck. He’s so tall that you had to gently tug him down a bit so he’d be able to hear you. 

“Who are you looking for? I know everyone here,” you mutter next to his cheeks. You retain your position so he wouldn’t have to repeat leaning and standing up from talking to you. But instead of answering your question, he slightly turns his neck to look at you, making your faces only centimeters apart.

Tsukishima thought you’re going to keep squawking your words like you were doing earlier. He didn’t think you’d mirror his action. It should’ve been a strange scenario with you gaping at him this close, but you two remain focused on each other with confusion and a hint of something completely foreign reflecting in both your eyes — a certain spark of attraction that shouldn’t have been there and neither of your expected. 

A miniscule hint of panic shows itself in your eyes, and in this proximity, Tsukishima doesn’t fail to notice it. You instantly take your hands off of him, planting your heels back on the floor to create a safe distance from him. 

You don’t completely falter though. You still have that stupid grin on your face, but he knows it’s forced.

There it is -- something he’s been waiting three years for. He waited for the moment that you’d show an opening that he could pick on and exploit as payback for the many times you’ve gotten on his nerves, but he didn’t anticipate it would be something like this. He wanted to see what riles you up and to be able to  tease you nonstop about it until he makes you uncomfortable the way you make him. 

Yet something tells him that he shouldn’t. As much as he wants to see that smile of yours completely stripped off and reduce you to flustered shambles, flirting with you isn’t how he’d do it. It doesn’t sit well with him. 

Still, he also wouldn’t scream his lungs out for you. So he dips down again, leveling his mouth against your ear. “Hiro Takahashi. He’s from our Herpetology class. Seen him?” He doesn't stand up straight as he waits for you to answer so you wouldn’t have any reason to touch him again.

He feels you nod, the soft skin of your cheek grazing against his. You murmur something but your voice is too low that even with the short distance, he doesn’t hear it very well. “Louder. I can’t hear you.”

But you don’t comply. Rather than raising your voice, you nestle your face closer to his. “Yeah. I saw him a while ago. I’ll help you look for him.”

He heard it, but his whole attention was on how warm your breath is and how your lips are ghosting over his ear. He feels goosebumps at the back of his neck and his mind starts reeling.

Fuck this. He should have started the project on his own. He shouldn’t have gone here. He should’ve left the moment he saw you. He shouldn’t be having this stupid interaction where you’re at a spitting distance. And even if you are, he shouldn’t be this affected . 

He hears rumbles of footsteps behind him accompanied by reverberating male voices which he couldn’t make sense of. “Going through!” Someone shouts but he hears it late, resulting in him getting knocked over when they pass by. 

He wouldn’t have staggered if not for you who was snuggled in front of him, which results in his footing faltering from the impact. He grabs your waist and pulls you to him to make sure you don’t fall over when you collide with him. Your reflexes probably kicked in as well as you wrap one arm around his neck and while your other hand clutches his shoulder.

“Shit!” He hisses on your temples. He would never go to a party again, even if someone pays him to do it. 

It was already bad when you two were only whispering to each other. Having your body pressed against his is three times worse. He doesn’t like anything about this, yet he can’t take his hands away from you. The crowd has long passed and the party rages on around you. He expects you to do something about it, push him away or say something stupid to irk him even more like you always do. 

You loosen your grip on him, pulling back slightly to meet his gaze. And when you do, he realizes instantly that you’re held captive by whatever’s happening right now between the two of you. Your face is too close and goddamn, everyone was right. You really are pretty, especially right now that your mouth is shut. Even in the dim lighting he can see it -- the captivating spark in your eyes, your nose, and the shape of your lips.

He wets his lips unconsciously, all too aware of the warmth of your skin against his neck, and the curve of your hips against his palm.

He tries to quiet the havoc in his head. You’re adamant to not date anyone from the team. Surely, that meant not getting into anything remotely physical with them as well. So whatever the hell this is, you certainly won’t allow it to happen. Not that he wants it to happen. It’s just that you should really get the fuck out of his hold already. 

“Tsukishima,” you mutter his name with dangerous uncertainty that alerts all his senses, rendering him to dread the next words that will come out of your mouth with anticipation.

“Can you keep a secret?”

Even like this, you’re still the sly person he knows you are. By asking him that, you’re going to make him an accomplice in your own disobedience of the rule you, yourself, strictly imposed. 

As if he’ll agree to that. Did you really think he’d go along with this just because you look slightly more adorable this close to him with your doe eyes gleaming with apprehension as you wait for his answer? Of course not. Nothing about this is appealing, not even the way your lips are parted slightly as if you’re deliberately luring him in. 

He must have taken too long to respond because reluctance takes over whatever ounce of boldness you had about the situation. The shame your question brought gradually settles in your face.

He realizes right then that you’re just as conflicted as he is, so you start pulling away when he doesn’t say anything.

Rather than relief, he secures his grip on you to stop you from completely backing out. He replicates how you whispered into his ear, but purposely does it this time as he lets his lips rest on the shell of your ear, his next words going against every rational thought swimming in his head. Maybe it’s the atmosphere of this goddamn club, maybe it’s the way your body fits perfectly with his, or maybe it’s his own selfish curiosity getting the better of him, but he gives in. Against his better judgment, he gives in.

“Yeah. I can keep one, manager.” He hums grimly in your ear, intentionally stating that you’re their manager so you’re fully aware of what consequences these whispered nothings might have with your relationship.

You drag your face back just a little bit until your lips are just a breath away from his. Your eyes flick up to his just for one second as the unruly temptation lingers heavily around you two. 

Then you give in. 

He didn’t really know what he’s looking for when he agreed to this illogical spur of the moment tomfoolery, but at the first touch of your lips on his, he regrets it. He regrets it, but he doesn’t pull away. He didn’t have any expectations, but for fuck’s sake, you’re not supposed to taste this good. You certainly haven’t been drinking tonight. Your mouth tastes like honey and milk, coaxing him to nip on it further to have more. 

He’s seething. How can a pair of lips that spat a ton of shit be this fucking delicate. It doesn’t make sense. 

Your arm finds its way back around his neck while he draws you even closer as he waits for resentment or disgust to hit him, relentlessly sucking on the softness of your lips to find anything remotely unpleasant. But he finds neither. He only finds himself enjoying this despite the lack of privacy, the blasting music in the background, and the athlete-manager relationship he has with you.

He withdraws a bit, leaving you panting against his mouth. When you raise your gaze to him, he meets your bewildered orbs that even the dimmed blue led lights weren’t able to hide. 

Then your eyes drift behind him. 

You see something that instantly snaps you back to the wild persona he knows you have. Your whole body shudders when it sinks in your features what you two just did. You retrieve your arms quickly as if his skin burns yours.  

Your eyes are scorching with both embarrassment and determination when you grab his collar and yank him not so gently. “We tell no one about this shit!” You tell him aggressively and let him go instantly.

You put the hood of your onesie back and look down before gripping his shoulders to get him to turn around. 

A few steps away is the classmate he’s looking for. Before he calls for his irresponsible groupmate, he looks behind him to catch where you’re going, but you already disappeared. Even in this wretched place kilometers away from the gymnasium, you still manage to have the last word.

He fists his knuckles with anger. Out of all the maddening shit you put him through, this the worst.

Prologue || masterlist

Taglist (those crossed out can’t be tagged):

 @ameliaxo @suikrem​​ @akaashisslave @tsumurai​​  @babythotshq​​ @loving-unicorns106​ @berna-dette​ @just4readingfics​ @suteorra​ @xxekitten69xx​ 

[theatresweetheart]

“Stop squirming, I don’t want to drop you!” + “Let me go!” with borrower roman & human virgil?

Paint Water

Summary: Roman takes an accidental dip into Virgil’s paint water. Who knew a human could be so very annoying?

Warnings: Swearing, arguing.

Pairing: Platonic Prinxiety

Characters: Roman, Virgil

Word count: 1841 words

A/n: I’ve finally done something with this prompt! I’ve been wanting to use it for ages, but writer’s block said no >:(  Though, I have finally managed to get around it! 

                                         ——————————

The artist dipped the paintbrush into the dark blue he had pulled out, before pressing it onto the canvas and following along with the penciled-in lines he’d drawn out a couple days prior. Virgil had had trouble deciding at first if this painting was going to be worth all the time and effort. After fussing with the lines enough, nearly erasing everything and then redoing it, he had decided it wasn’t going to get any better.

Besides, if the creation was atrocious and he really hated it, he could hide it in the spare bedroom for when his relatives came to visit.

His eyes followed the line of paint, his free hand absently tapping his thigh in time with the music in his headphones. It wasn’t an uncommon sight, if someone were to walk in on him like this.

A mug of lukewarm coffee sat forgotten to his side. It was half empty anyway, and Virgil was pretty sure he’d accidentally dipped his brush into it instead of the cup of water he had designated for cleaning his brushes off. So he wasn’t willing, nor was he eager, to take the risk of getting a mouthful of cold coffee that probably tasted like acrylic paint.

He could just get up and make himself another mug if he really wanted to anyway, it wasn’t difficult.

Virgil pulled back after a moment, eyes flicking over the canvas, picking out small little flaws that only he would really notice. Asking someone if they thought the flower in the bottom corner of the painting looked odd, they would most likely respond with a vehement “no! Your artwork is astounding, there’s nothing wrong with any of it!” Which was nice, admittedly, but not helpful for advancing his career or perfecting his technique. Truth be told though, Virgil knew he was the hardest person to please when critiquing his own work.

He leaned over to the side, adjusting his spot on the stool for a moment, before dipping the brush off into the water—and he knew it was his water for a fact. He pulled the brush back before forcing the water out of the bristles against the side of his easel and wiping the excess off on his jeans. They were already stained with colours, so a little more never hurt anyone.

For his next colour, he went for a charcoal black aiming to use it for the sky above the landscape. The picture itself was of a garden at midnight. The moon was high in the night sky, stars surrounded it. The light, he was hoping, would eventually look like it was glinting off of the stone fountain in the centre of the piece. Virgil was a skilled artist, he took the least bit of pride in that, but getting those minuscule details could be difficult and frustrating. Not to mention, if they weren’t done right, could make the whole piece look ridiculous.

Just as he was leaning back in to the start on the corner of the canvas, a wet splash hit the outside of his leg and soaked into his jeans. He hadn’t bumped the table accidentally, had he?

Virgil turned to see the cause of the mess, only to see the water in the paint cup rippling. He knew for a fact that he hadn’t bumped the table when little air bubbles began to surface and pop.

The artist pulled his headphones out before letting them rest over his shoulders. Leaning forward on his knees, he tried to peer into the water that had taken on a colour of its own. Mixes of grey, blue, black and purple all in one. It was a pretty ugly colour.

Not a moment later a familiar face popped out of the water, treading it to the best of his ability and Virgil had to stifle a snort. The borrower in question coughed and used a hand to wipe the paint from his face.

“Swimming are we?” The human teased, blatantly amused. Which earned an indignant noise from the man currently stuck in the mug.

“Not on purpose!” Roman snipped back, trying to keep his head above the water’s surface.

Virgil set his paint brush down on the edge of the table, making sure that the fresh paint on the end wouldn’t drip onto the tabletop. He then reached over and grabbed the cup and brought it over. He kept his hand as steady as possible, not wanting to slosh the borrower around any more than he already was. “Need a hand?”

Roman only snorted in his direction, his head bobbing under the water for a moment. “I can get out just fine,” he huffed, “just put the cup back down on the tabletop and you’ll see!”

“You keep going under, that doesn’t exactly instill me with confidence that you can actually get out on your own.” Virgil lifted the cup a little higher, silently noting that the thing itself had to be about seven inches. Which was a good three inches taller than the man currently treading within its confines. There was actually no way he could get out on his own.

“If you’d stop moving the cup, I’d be absolutely fine.”

Virgil quirked a brow. “Sure.”

With that as an implied warning, he lowered the cup back down so it was resting comfortably on the top of his knee. He then reached into the cup and, Roman, seeing what was coming, ducked back down into the water.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.” He fished after the borrower trying to evade him for only a moment. Thanks to the slippery texture of the paint coating Roman’s clothes and Virgil’s fingertips, said borrower was able to continuously manage to slip his grip a couple times.

Virgil’s brows furrowed in concentration and slight frustration. He eventually settled on scooping two fingers under Roman’s arms was the better option. It took a second before he finally managed to pull him out of the water. Before long, he had a sopping wet Roman glaring at him.

“Now, was that so hard?” Virgil remarked after a moment, watching as Roman swiped at the paint on his face as best as he could from his position.

“Don’t patronize me.” He kicked his legs, managing to fling some water into the artist’s face.

“Real mature.” Virgil scrunched his nose, eyes closed to prevent the water from getting in his eyes. He set the cup of water back onto the table before using the hem of his sleeve to wipe the droplets off. When he opened his eyes again, he saw the way Roman was smirking at him. As if he had won this battle.

Please, that was hardly a win.

“Now,” Roman said, as if this was nothing more than a slight hindrance in his nightly excursion, “let me go, you giant pain in the ass. I could have very easily have gotten out of that mess by myself!”

Virgil rolled his eyes. “No you couldn’t have.”

Roman scoffed, attempting to wrench himself free. Even though he was far enough from the ground that a fall like that would be lethal, the idiot. “I absolutely could have. You just don’t believe me because you don’t want to admit you’re wrong.”

“I’m not wrong,” Virgil told him. “You’re about this big—” He used his free hand to measure out Roman’s somewhat accurate height before putting that against the bottom of the paint water’s mug. “—and you’re about this big compared to the cup. So, I think I’m pretty safe in saying you couldn’t have gotten out.”

“You just have no faith in me,” he huffed, trying to feign ignorance. Roman then scowled, trying to budge himself again. This time making enough progress that Virgil quickly brought his second hand up as a safety net.

“Careful you little pocket prince.” The human artist could feel the way his heart rate had spiked slightly from the scare. “A fall from this height wouldn’t be good for you.”

“If you’d just put me down, we wouldn’t have to worry about that then would we?”

“If you would stop moping we wouldn’t have to worry about it either. Just stop moving.”

“I shouldn’t have to stop moving if you would just listen to me!”

“I am listening to you. I just don’t want you to die prematurely, you idiot.”

“No you’re not! If you were, you’d have put me down by now.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Virgil pinched the bridge of his nose as if trying to ward off an oncoming headache. All he had wanted to do was get at least halfway done on his painting and now, here he was, arguing with a person the size of a mouse. “Just stop squirming, I really don’t want to drop you. You’re soaking wet Roman, which, believe it or not, makes it really hard to keep a steady hold of you.” He then let out a sigh, pushing out the frustration that was welling inside him. “Are you hurt anywhere?”

That question seemed to catch Roman off guard, as he stopped trying to pull himself free and looked back at him. “What?”

“Christ help me,” Virgil mumbled under his breath, before addressing the man still in his hold. “You fell into my paint cup from who know’s how high up. Does anything on you hurt?”

Roman blinked brilliantly at him a moment, before shaking his head. “No.”

Virgil relaxed the slightest bit. “Good. Now,” he motioned back to the cup of water sitting harmlessly on the table. “Do you want to go back into the cup to prove that you can actually get out?”

When he started to move his hand over, Roman twitched away from it. “No! No, no, don’t you dare!”

“That’s what I thought.”

So, instead of the cup, Virgil let Roman off onto the table beside it. He was just about to go back to painting when he noticed the borrower beginning to shiver slightly in the cool air of the apartment. He quirked a brow, but didn’t say anything at first. Truth be told, the water was pretty cold when he’d scooped Roman out, so to have his entire body drenched like that mustn’t be comfortable either.

He wiped his hand off on his pants. “Are you cold?”

Roman’s arms tightened around himself. His shivering increased. “No.”

Virgil found a smirk creasing his features. “You’re a horrible liar,” he said, stretching to release some of the tension in his back. Sitting hunched over on a stool for hours on end probably wasn’t the best for his posture. He glanced the mug of forgotten coffee. “I was about to make myself a fresh cup of coffee anyway, you want some?”

Roman hesitated only a fraction of a second. “Yes.”

Virgil gave a nod to show he’d heard. Just as he was getting up to leave the room and get some extra clothes for the shivering borrower, he heard Roman’s voice speak up;

“Are you ever going to let me live this down?”

Virgil laughed, but it wasn’t mean. “Not a chance.”

[millennial-star-gazer]

A Fire Dragon, His Princess and The Not-So-Terrible Party Aftermath: Chapter:5

A Fire Dragon, His Princess and The Not-So-Terrible Party Aftermath

Nalu week 2020 Prompts: Voice, Flirt, Charm & Smile(All implied)

Genres: Romance, Humor, New Adult Fanfiction

Pairing: Nalu/Endlu (Natsu x Lucy & E.n.d. Natsu x Lucy)

Rating: M for language, steamy and mature/adult sexual content (all consensual) in these and future chapters. Reader Discretion is advised.(You've been warned!)

Summary: God knows it was all fun and games at an outdoor guild party until a drinking contest results in a not-so-great time for a certain celestial wizard much to the dismay of a protective dragon slayer and company. Even worse is Lucy's hangover with some kind of mild flu and busted ankle to boot . At least a doting Natsu is more-than-willing to provide his mate plenty of TLC. One of my entries for Nalu week 2020 and part of the Nalu-centric anthology series The Dragon Demon and His Celestial Princess anthology series (slight au/ canon divergent).

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Chapter: 5: Of All The Over-Protective Loved Ones And Nonsensical Health Remedies

A/N: Hey folks, it's your girl back with another installment of AFHCPATNSTPA! Apologies for the delay! My beta and I have been somewhat busy on and off for different reasons which will be explained further in the bottom author's note. Anyways, Chapter 5 is finally posted for your reading pleasure with plenty of Nalu fluff, Gray and Natsu rival-related hijinks and humor to go around! Many thanks and a special shoutout to the awesome @mannyegb for helping me edit and further develop this chapter yet again! Seriously, words can't express how grateful I am for this dude's contributions or how invaluable they are ! Make sure to hit him up on Tumblr and Discord. Now without further ado, here's the chapter-enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own Fairytail which instead belongs to the one and only Hiro-sensei instead!

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Legend

Italics: Fantasy, flashback & literary/ song quotes

Bold: First Person Thoughts

Bolded Italics: empathized word

Bolded Italics: outside of main story): A/N

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"Friends are the family you choose".

(NIN/Ithilinin: Elven Rogue)

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"Seriously Natsu? Again?! "

Lucy's exasperated voice echoed through the stairwell of the couple's duplex after returning home from a trip to the local physician's appointment and some errands. Can't believe we're having this conversation again. Little did the other nearby tenants and neighbors know that this wasn't the first time that the two disagreed over his sometimes -overprotective nature instincts or the level of " safety precautions" for the sake of his mate's well being.

Bloody Hell ...

"I'm not a porcelain doll, y' know!" The wizard grumbled, arms crossing over her chest. "I mean, really!"

"Mhmmm." Nastu merely hummed in response with a lazy smirk illuminating those sage eyes much to her chagrin.

"Are you even listening to me right now?"

"Course I am , beautiful" came his reply without missing a beat. "But damn." Difficult to miss the hint of a flirtatious purr in the fire wizard's voice or how his eyes swept over his mates form in apprecation that sent her pulse jumping into a frenzy . "Do you know what seeing ya' all flustered like this does to me? I mean you're even more adorable, gorgeous, and irresistible than you already are right now. Kissable too."

"Well, th-thank you" Lucy mumbled, heat rising and pooling in her cheeks. God knows how she couldn't but be a little subconscious over the effect of his natural charms despite being irritated. "But I don't think no's really a good time for flirting."

"Aw who says?" Natsu challenged with a throaty chuckle. Agree to disagree, princess ." Notto mention the gleam of mirth dancing in his eyes or the languidly smooth empathis on one of her beloved nicknames that he knew turned her knees to jellow .

Cocky bastard..

And damn were those supple hands currently settled on the curve of the summoner 's waist distracting in all the best possible ways.

"This couldn't be a more perfect time for flirting…"

One of the dragon slayer's hands was reaching to drag the blonde's locks through his fingertips. and Holy Hell did that blush deepen all thanks to that shit-eating of his and the way he continued to play with her hair .

Fuck ... there he goes again.

"Don't you think,Luce?" He finished, twirling, and tucking a stray tendril behind her ear as if to puncture his point further.

Damn it...

God damn did all those calculated ministrations kickstart the flustered girls heart into overdrive .

Again. So hard to focus right now. He 's that good…

As if that soft gasp tha wasn't t slipped out of her mouth wan't already enough. And pretty clear that noise undetected by Natsu if the way his sage eyes were glittering like coals was any indication.

"Someone' s flustered" His words came out as infuriatingly goading and yet velvety at the same time. " But I know you're into this as much as I am…. and you're falling prey to my charms." Natsu let his thumb lightly graze along the contour of her cheek. "Oh yeah. I can tell. Your heart's racing and everything." Now the fire dragon slayer wizard's forehead was mere inches from Lucy's. All that was needed for for her heart rate to skyrocket for the third time just as he so brazenly pointed out.

"Nastu..." the blonde started only for the words to die in her throat when her breath hitched from Natsu 's lips brushing against hers.

Shit...

"Are...you…trying…to…distract...me?" Was what she finally managed to force out, desperate longing seeping into her breathy tone.

"Me? Never." Natsu denied, the soft vibrations of his smoky timbre against her lips sending a tingle rippling across all those nerves. "Just having a little fun, is all."

"You are?"

"And I succeeded!"

Wait...what!?

Nastu was pulling back ever so slightly from Lucy without so much as a warning. God did that unwelcome disruption not fly so well with the mage who moaned in protest.

That pompous little...

"So that entailed luring your your mate in?" She eventually objected with a sour glare at her pompous -ass-of boyfriend." And then leaving her hanging? Pretty sure that classifies as some kind of entrapment! Just how much of a shameless flirt can you be?!"

"Opps.. guess you're not a happy camper right now," Natsu snickered, flashing her an awfully impish grin as if he were caught red-handed like a delinquent high school student drinking in class. "I mean I'm definitely a 'shameless flirt 'when it comes to you but I'm not going to leave you out to dry like some emotionally or romantically dead-beat loser. Knew exactly what I was doing and can't get over how cute my girl is when she's all flustered. No need to worry though." He gave a sly-yet-rougish wink that nearly left the summoner 'a heart stuttering.

Not that I'm going to tell him that.

"I promise to deliver on that promise of plenty of kisses and affection that we both crave so much. You'll see!"

"I... you ... y-you're such an ass!" Lucy stammered, entire face flushing an deeper shade of crimson. "Did you even hear what I said about... God damn it!"

"You mean about you not being made out porcelain?" Natsu was quick to supply, automatically clueing in. "Yes Luce, I did." His voice was all business now but more patient than cross. "And you're definitely right but that busted ankle of yours might as well be with how fragile it is right now. That's what having a sprained ankle means. A finger pointed down at Lucy 's sandal -clad foot with a tensure bandage .

"And why I need to carry ya'. Either way, you wanna get upstairs, right?"

"Well gee thank you for stating the obvious and what everyone already knows about sprained ankles." Lucy huffed, rolling her eyes. "And of course, I wanna get up upstairs but why is carrying me all the way up and down even necessary? You already gave me a piggyback to the clinic for God's sake! Not to mention pushing me around on a god damn platform cart while we were shopping for medicine and other supplies at the pharmacy without letting me set foot on the ground even once!

"Both were necessary to keep you from falling again." Natsu reasoned, still not budging on the matter; even when in the process of methodically removing the key holder's shoes. "Plus, I love having ya' in my arms and that cart had lots of room for you to comfortably stretch out on. Pretty practical if you ask me."

"More like total overkill!" Lucy tossed back, vein ticking above her eye. "Anyway, I might not be as fast, but can still definitely make my way up and down the stairs with a walking assist! Can't you just let me try at least?!"

"No can do, sweetheart," Natsu rebutted with a shake of his head. Good lord it was astounding how this extremely persistent man was able to unwittingly shoot down all of her ambitions for any kind of semi-independent mobility. and yet be so damn patient and even-tempered at the same time. "Can't risk you missing a step and taking another tumble down these stairs."

"Ugh...Oh My God- you're unbelievable!" Lucy couldn't help but yell; throwing her hands up in ggravation. which was met with an infuriating laugh of amusement from a certain pyro .

"The most unbelievable of them all.! Now quit complainin' relax and enjoy the ride up to our apartment!"

"Natsuuuu!"

Such a debate became a common occurrence in the Dragneel-Heartfilia household over the week with neither Natsu or visiting friends— Celestial spirits included- letting Lucy out of their sight or use stairs by herself. The extremely disgruntled mage would often gripe about her "stupid over-protective boyfriend and friends" even though ;despite secretly melting from being in the dragonslayer's arms all the time along with the rest of his "TLC." Not so much with Ezra, however, who'd often insist on personally escorting Lucy up and down the stairs herself ;when it wasn't by Natsu, Happy or anyone else.

My God is that woman overly cautious! It's beyond irritating!

Other than that, one minor pet peeve, Lucy supposed she couldn't really complain too much. Not when she was blessed with spending quality time with the love of her life and phomoneal comrades/friends who were all more than willing to keep her company. Well, okay save for that one time involving a nonsensical squabble about ailment remedies between Natsu and Gray one day.

"I'm telling you— these will help Lucy feel better!" Natsu insisted, dumping a paper bag of what could be described as god-awful-Scotch-covered-eye-sores-with-strings-attached on the counter. "See?" A hand patted the side of the misshapen bundle of items.

Uh...

Lucy meanwhile, couldn't help but steal a furtive glance of disbelief from her coral-haired soulmate; who was currently sniffing the unsightly abominations with an particularly intense focus for some inexplicable reason.

"The hell are ya' doing , charcoal-brains?!" Gray demanded, voice coming out in a mixture of incomprehension and disdain. "And what even are those things?"

"Inspecting these babies for germs," Natsu replied with an eye roll as if the answer was the most obvious in the world. "Duh! What else would I be doing'? Can't have em' infecting Lucy. And they're a supposed to be a special kind of talisman for health and good luck. Even an ice overrated snowcone like you should know that. Basically Scotch-taped covered piles of leaves and Vic patches wrapped in tissue paper. If I hang these around the apartment, then they should do wonders for Luce's health."

"You know by gradually sucking the virus toxins from her body until she's better," he tacked on with an 'exuberant grin. "Or so I heard from Nab, Maco, and Wakaba. Dudes bought entire boxes full for 20 jewel a piece from a pop-up vendor of some merchant in the market. The lady swears by them and everything. Either way, aren't they awesome?! Right, Luce? His head turned towards Lucy. "Bet you'll be better in no time!"

"I ...uh... " The blonde sputtered, still too bewildered for words." I don't…."

"Oh Good God," Erza muttered, smacking a palm against her forehead. "Of all the—-Natsu, I highly doubt those would be effective in treating Lucy's illness."

"Huh? Why wouldn't they be?"

"Well..."

"Oh jeez...How can anyone be this dense?"

Gray was shooting out of his seat at the table with an exasperated noise. "Step aside fire boy, I'll find Lucy something. Her fridge should have some suitable ingredients." A hand pulled opened the door of the fridge before rummaging around inside much to Lucy's confusion Course why a random assortment of food in the form of onions and ginger Along with some lemons were being cleared out was anyone's guess.

"Onions, lemons and ginger" The ice wizard announced, sounding tremendously pleased with himself. "Should be just what the doctor ordered for Lucy. I'm gonna chop these up and boil em' with some cinnamon in a tea for her."

Wha? Is he for real?!

"Wait….I'm sorry you want me to drink what now?"

Lucy 's brain short circuited with an owlish blink at the same time that some revolted noises could be heard from the rest of Team Natsu. More specifically Salamander 's gagging and Erza nearly vomiting in her mouth.

"Well at least Lucy gets it" Gray voiced aloud to no one in particular with a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders. "Now to find a knife and boil some water for the tea."

"Yo, you out of your mind, ice-dick?" Natsu demanded, more than a tad incredulous. "It's pretty obvious she doesn't want what you're selling and can't say I blame her." His eyes narrowed in revulsion with a flash of exposed canines poking through his lips. "That kind of 'tea 'sounds disgusting."

Just for Natsu's striking emerald eyes to immediately soften when landing on Lucy.

"Don't worry Luce," He soothed, his voice lifting to a sympathetic coo. "I'll protect ya' from that big meanie and his stupid ".

" Uh Yeah, please do," Lucy beseeched, words trembling slightly. Honest to God that the astral almost shuddered at the prospect of such a horrendous-tasting tea invading her tastebuds. "I don't even want a sip of that stuff."

"And Why would any sane person expect you to? Not me or Ezra. Can't say the same about droopy eyes here." Natsu tossed a pointed glare at Gray which was readily met with a raised middle finger. "You really that hell bent on brewing whatever nasty crap you call tea, buddy? Then be our guest and drink it yourself. But keep it away from Lucy and out of the kitchen. We don't need that shit stinking up the place."

"Tch— shows what you know" came Gray's disparaging scoff by way of a reply. "Pretty sure you wouldn't know a proper health remedy was if it hit you in the face."

Uh-oh ...

Gray's words really seemed to touch a nerve judging by Natsu's offended growl.

"The hell is that supposed to mean, stripper?" He sniped, vein throbbing in his forehead " What? Are ya really looking' to piss me off or somethin'?"

"Yeah, just maybe I am!" Gray countered with salty heat and matching his rival glare for glare. "You want to cry about it? And you heard what I said. God ... no wonder Lucy's still sick what with your clueless ass and all failing to take care of her.."

"You take that back asshole!" Natsu seethed, foaming rabidly at the mouth. Or rather smoke circumventing from his nose and mouth what with him being a fire dragon demon and "literal hothead "and all.

"Make Me—ow!"

The rest of whatever Gray was trying to say was cut off by a flying "talisman" that just struck him point blank in the face.

"Hey!" He snapped, grudgingly rubbing his temple with a hand." The hell was that for, ya damned fire hazard?!"

"What do ya think, dumbass ?" Natsu flung back without missing a beat. "You got some nerve….insultin 'a dragon's pride like that!"

"Yeah? So what?"

"Seriously?! You pretty much implied I don't know how to take care of my own mate!"

"Yes and?"

Uh-oh...

"And it was a total dick move, dingus! That's what! Where's your sense of common decency!?"

"Wasted on incompetent dipshits like you, apparently!"

"What was that, frosty?!"

"You heard me "

"That's it you, walking freezer burn! Them's fighting words!"

"Oh yeah? Bring it flame-bitch!"

"Take this!"

Oh god ….

The next thing anyone knew were that that the bickering rivals were launchimg projectiles—aka "Talismans" at each other much to her dismay.

No...

"No fighting in our kitchen!" Lucy squeaked; cadence raised to a higher pitch. " You could really break something! So stop!" The afflicted girl couldn't help but watch with alarmed eyes when her desperate pleas seemed to fall on deaf ears. Something always gets completely wrecked or destroyed when these two butt heads over anything!

Seriously, who could forget all the destruction those two left in their wake or millions of jewel racked in subsequent, property damage during their last scuffle? Like say the accidental beheading and subsequent toppling of that statue which also happened in Hargeon's beloved town founder for instance? Not to mention the scorched garden of the mayor's prized purple and white orchids. Not Lucy, that's for sure.

I really don't want them breaking anything….

Erza meanwhile. was practically frothing at the mouth from all that pent-up rage in a very-if-not-entirely-proverbial sense of the word.

"Good God—those two!" The re-equip mage ranted, vein pulsing right above her brow. "Always butting heads over one asinine matter or another! The hell is wrong with them anyways? Either way, enough is enough! I really should... no probably best not... Oh screw it!"

Erza was on the other wizards in a flash, banging their heads together with an audible crack. And good lord who could miss the stunned noises of pain that simultaneously cirumented their throats.

"OW!" Natsu and Gray whimpered in unison. "That really hurt ,Erza!"

"Yeah!?" Erza barked . "Well maybe you two dolts should've thought of that before you started acting juvenile and making a mess! I mean take you for instance, Gray! Disrespecting a dragonslayer's pride was a garbage move just as Natsu pointed out! Haven't both Master and UR taught you more sense than that? Oh, and let's not forget you doubting Natsu 's ability to effectively tend to care for Lucy despite doing more than a standup job so far for the most part! No wonder he's offended!"

"Hey, it's not my fault if the dude can't take a joke," Gray grumbled, defensive resentment leaking into his tone. "Or that he has a ridiculously overinflated and fragile ego."

"Neither helpful or okay, Gray!"

"Yeah, so there dickwad!" Natsu cut in with his tongue shooting out for good measure. "See?"

"Oh yeah... you really..."

"Oh no you don't!" Erza whirled on Natsu who shrank under the heat of her glare with another whimper. "And yes, I'm talking about you Natsu Ignatius Dragneel! Don't think for a minute that you're getting out of this scott- free!""

Oh shit ... Erza just used Natsu's full name…. She must mean business.

"What? Me, really?" Nastu spluttered, hands still raised in defense as if fend the intimating scarlet woman off. "What did I even do anyway?"

"Hmm, what did you do?" Erza questioned, rolling her eyes. Oh, and her words were just laced/ dripping/ trickling/ with just the right amount of pointed sarcasm. "Care to take a wild guess? How about those godawful abominations you call talismans for one? Look at them! Anyone can tell these are a sham! I mean really, Natsu! The hell were you thinking?! Normally, you're much better at sussing out onpossible scams and cons. How could you let yourself be duped out of your hard -earned money like that?"

"Aw- come on!" Natsu bleated "Didn't mean to, honest! All I wanted was to help Luce recover more quickly and honestly thought these things would help. That's all! I won't buy any more—swear to God! Just please don't bust my balls, Erza! I need those!

"Calm down. I'm not going to do that. It's easy to tell your intentions were pure regardless which is most important."

"Really? Thank you, you kind, merciful, woman!"

"Yes, yes,.. that's all fine and good," Erza chuckled in amusement with a light shake of her head as a response .

"Now about those talismans. They are a problem. " Erza's voice fell into a more sober tone with a hand cupping her chin in thought. "Word on the street is that Fiore is being targeted by a fraudulent band of thieves and con artists. Popping up in various towns and cities with those "vendors", posing as legitimate shop keepers and merchants —that sort of thing. and from what I've heard , these people are trying pass off bogus goods as authentic souvenirs."

"So, ya think there's some kind of link between those and what I bought?" Natsu quickly caught on matter-of-factly. "As in all that crappy stuff you mentioned ?"

"Yes, precisely that. I'm sure we can all agree that how poor unassuming customers are being ripped off by those criminals just isn't right. Something must be done."

"Okay—like what?"

"Helping folks of Magnolia getting their money back for one —yours included. And there's also the matter of filing a report with the magic reinforcement unit and other authorities . They'd want to be informed of the culprits' criminal activity ASAP. In fact, why don't the two of us go now?"

"What? Ya' mean that you actually want us to leave right now?!"

Natsu visibly balked at Erza's suggestion as if being ordered to watch Ichyia perform a strip tease in nothing but a pair of - sparkly -Leather, assless chaps.

"I.. don't…"

"Yes, I figured that would be the most efficient course of option" Erza reasoned, lifting a questioning brow at his response. "Why? Is there a problem?"

"Uh yeah..., a big one!" Natsu protested with a vigorous nod. " Going now would mean leaving Luce's side" His whole tone shifted into a whine. "Especially when she's still not feeling 100% or if it means being without her in my arms for too long. And right now, looking after Lucy and being able to spend time with her is what's most important. Not to mention what I want the most! Please… just let me take good care of my mate and queen and hold her! That too much ask?"

"No, and your feelings are understandable. That in mind, it would still be unethical to turn a blind eye to petty crimes at the expense of innocent civilians."

"Yeah, of course. But it's just…."

Sheesh… Natsu's being a bit of a drama king right now. I mean I love the guy and its always great having him around for the most part despite the fact that he sometimes gets on nerves. Completely normal for all couples even ones like us but that's besides the point. Anyways, he's being super sweet and everything but there's no need for him to blow a gasket when they would only be gone for a couple hours at most. Plus Erza's right about putting a stop to those jerks and getting those other people compensated. and it's not like I won't be okay without them or by myself a for little bit...

"Hey guys," Lucy finally spoke up after a few minutes, drawing their focus of everyone's eyes back on her. "Not that your efforts and spending time with me aren't appreciated, but pretty sure I'll be fine on my own for a little while if you want to report those people and get your money back." No real heat to her words though.

"Hmm... don't think that's a good idea, "sweetheart." Came Natsu's reply, his timbre pitched soft; though she didn't miss the pleading note in his words. "You're still not in the best shape right now. Like Mavis knows I don't really feel comfortable leaving you alone to fend for yourself right now, y' know? I mean what if ya' end up barfin' with your head over a toilet bowl or falling again?"

Not really that much of an nasty shock to say the least especially seeing how the couple were practically inseparable ever since that hazardous incident at the party.

"Don't be too surprised if Natsu's refuses to leave your side." Levy's kind voice from a recent lacrima video call echoed inside Lucy's head "or even let out of his sight-or sense range for that matter. You remember learning about how dragon slayers, demon's and hybrids are essentially hardwired to be extremely protective and territorial of their bonded, right? Well those already -fierce instincts are get an even bigger boost during certain times... like say when they're in heat . Not to mention when their soulmates are sick, injured or both in your case. In any case, Natsu's no exception especially with how you're one of the people he's been most protective of even before you two were officially an item node as we all know. Anyways, be prepared for him wanting to remain extra close to you and special attention. Think plenty of affection and physical contact like snuggling, kisses, doting on you —things like that which is always a bonus. And pretty sure he is going to hoard you. I mean the dude going isn't gonna take kindly to anyone he feels is trying to steal/snatch you away from him. Gajeels the same way. It's not so bad though."

Levy was right. Not that I'm complaining...

"We really should get going Natsu," Erza chimed in after a few minutes. The sooner these matters are sorted out the better. Either way, it shouldn't take us too long-a few hours tops."

"Yeah, I know..." Natsu replied , an unmistakable flicker of reluctance in his eyes. "But…I still don't want to leave Lucy right now…." Sage fully connected with honey-brown as a hand was reaching to gently caress Lucy's cheek. And Mavis knows she couldn't help but naturally lean into the warmth of his touch or the content smile forming on her lips.

"Pretty sure I made my reasons clear anyway."

"Yes, but…"

"Hey bro," Gray piped in —not unkindly this time."I can easily hold the fort down and keep Lucy company while you guys are out."

"Wow…Really?"

Natsu instantly seemed to perk up.

"Yeah, I'd be more than happy to. Plus, we can summon one of her spirits and Happy to help for a fun but chill time. That way, you can trust that your girl is in capable hands and won't be bored."

"Good point!" Natsu rhapsodized, bumping his fist with Gray's. "Thanks, bro!"

"Yes, I agree" Ezra concurred, an approving smile crossing her lips. "That's very gracious and cordial of you. Way to be a great friend."

"That's what I'm here for and my pleasure, Natsu."

"Guess you're not so bad after all"

"Course' not. I am pretty awesome, after all."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Sometimes... So, what about it, Luce?" Natsu went on to inquire, far more chipper now. " You gonna to be okay with Gray and some of the others taking over for a bit while Erza and me are out ?"

"Yeah Lucy, what he said," Gray followed up with a cordial smile of his own. . "You and me can kick it and chill for a little while. Maybe even break into the candy stash and watch movies with everyone."

"Sure!" Lucy chirped, heart leaping in excitement from the prospect of a low-key but fun kickback with splendid company. "And Natsu and Erza can, join when they get back from their errands, right?"

"Yup! Now here," Natsu instructed, pushing a glass of water on the table towards her." "Drink some more of your water. Anyways, Erza and I can bring back some goodies from the local bakery after too,. You good with that ,Erza?" He tossed a hopeful glance the armour- clad wizard's way.

"Sure—sounds good to me!" Erza jumped on board, eyes lighting up with delight. A trip to the bakery would be most excellent. All those delicious confections, yummy treats like gourmet cupcakes and strawberry shortcake. Ooooooh." The scarlet woman's hands clapped together in giddy enthusiasm.. "I can practically taste it now —so divine!"

"Yeah but think about lava- brains though" Gray quipped without missing a beat. "What are the odds he'll devour whatever he doesn't give or share with Lucy?"

"Ohhhh valid point" Erza echoed, lips pulling up into / a smirk. I wouldn't put it past him to cleanin out half of the bakery's front counter. Now why don't we get a friendly little wager started? Is 20 jewel acceptable?"

"Sure. I'm game."

"Ooh... why not make it ...30?" Lucy joined in with a light giggle. "I mean what's to say he won't clean out most of the shops and the other desert shops in town?"

"Hey! Not cool!" Natsu objected, though such sour words were belied by the glimmer of mirth in his shamrock eyes. "Makin' bets about whether or not I'll stockpile deserts and shit! I mean talk about takin' cheap shots at your leader! I am Salamander of Fairytail, damn it! Alpha drake of the dragon nest, and a Mighty and fierce dragonslayer -demon hybrid! I deserve your respect and praise!"

"Oh?" Erza spurred him on, clearly entertained by the salamander's theatrics. " Is that a fact?"

"Damn right it is!"

"And you, Luce!" Natsu bemoaned with extra melodramatic flair. "Even my own precious soulmate is betting against me and egging' the other two on?" Impossible not to notice how Natsu's hand clapped over the heart in a display of feigned offence. "How you' wound me, woman!"

"Opps," Lucy uttered, a teasing lilt to her words. "My bad. Are they really that wrong though?"

"Ooh, you got me there!" Natsu jibed s, lips breaking into a cheek into a cheeky grin agrin that set Lucy 's heart all pit-patter. "Touché and shit."

"Just as I suspected."

"Yeah, I figured!" Natsu laughed, mussing her hair with one hand. "Anyway, how about Erza and me pick up some dumplings on the way home? Maybe a Party pack with plenty for everyone to share? We can get some other things for dinner too— Our treat!"

"Ooh yes please!" Lucy crowed, mouth practically watering from the zesty-flavored-packed dumplings from one of many Magnolia's local fusion joints. "Can some be fried? And be filled with beef? Maybe tandoori chicken and cheese too? And could I have 3 or 4?"

"Yeah, sure." Natsu agreed, goodnaturedly as always. "Whatever you want. You really must be cravin that stuff today, huh?" And God she couldn't help how her heart stuttered at the way her grin morphed into a another kind of smile entirely; More subtle, tremendously fond, even. "Normally I'm the one askin' for all this different kind of food. Good to know that you have great taste and that I'm rubbing off on you more and more each day though."

" Uh, yeah… thanks. Though you don't think it's a bit much?" Lucy questioned, now glancing up at her boyfriend with a smidge of tentativeness. She couldn't help but second-guess her request especially seeing how it was partially driven by voracious craving for carbs. "Cuz I'm wondering if that many dumplings is a tad too many now."

Maybe something healthier would be better...

"What? Are you kidding?" Natsu refuted, bursting into stunned laughter . "Of course it isn't. Why would it be?"

"Well, when you put it that way" Lucy resounded in agreement, the corner of her lips twitching into a sheepish grin over how silly I'm being. "Guess I was overthinking it just a little."

"See?" The dragonslayer pointed out, punctuated by a light tap on the tip of the blonde's nose with his finger. "Now you're getting it! And hey, look at it this way! Whatever my princess and queen wants, she gets."

"Well, who am I argue to with that? Anyways, you guys heading out now?"

"Yeah," Natsu sighed, a touch of reluctance seeping back into his gravelly timbre. "Guess we oughtaa . Really don't like the idea of leaving your side though there are some things to take care of. And besides the sooner we leave, the sooner I can get back to you."

How the summoner's heart gave a little thump at those touching words that reached her ears!

"What you're saying is definitely true" Lucy breathed, finding herself adrift in those arresting eyes of his. Onyx with flecks of jade that always seemed to shine in just the right angle of sunlight on bright days. And did she mention the sensation of Natsu's fingertips brushing her cheek, the tucking a stray lock of blonde hair behind her ear? How it all sent sparks racing through her nerves! "And I can't wait for you to get home so that I can be in your arms again too."

"Mhmm yeah" Natsu hummed in agreement., stroking along the side of her temple now. "I'm definitely looking forward to all that too. Also cuddling with ya' on the couch of course. Should be great! Anyway, make sure to take it easy and stay hydrated, okay? And don't forget Erza and I are one just one call away if you need anything."

"Okay, Thanks Natsu."

"Anytime," he rumbled with that same affectionate smile that always melted her heart . "See you soon, Luce." Lips pressed a light kiss atop the celestial mage's crown with a hand palming the side of her head. God such a rush cozy seeping through her bones and warming her soul to the core.

I truly love him and that'll never change..

"Yeah, likewise.. Hurry back, okay?."

" You know I will."

"That I do".

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@cobblepottantrum @lovelyluce@dark0angel13 @sovay-says

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A/N: All right that's Chapter: 5 ,folks! Apologies for the delay again! As stated previously, both my beta and I have been busy for different reasons related to differing schedules, life circumstances, responsibilities, appointments, hobbies and a somewhat more active social life among other things (with increasing vaccination rates unless everything goes south again). Not that this has necessarily prevented me from writing or working on my wips but there's also been days where I haven't been feeling well, a case of writers block or there simply just not being enough hours in a day to accomplish everything I want for whichever reason lol. In any case, this chapter is posted now and I'm trying to get back into working on writing projects more often. So that's that at least.

Anyways, hope you enjoyed the chapter! Once again, please don't hesitate to drop a comment/review and share. Check out the rest of my writing and stay tuned for new projects along with updates to my other WIPS too! ((Corresponding links are above in this post, bio and navigation bar if reading this on tumblr. Also in my FF and A03 profiles.) All right. that's all I have to say for now. Thanks to all my friends, mutals, followers and readings for their ongoing show of support over the years. You all rock! Take care until next time! Bye!

[openheart12]

Epiphany

A/N: I was feeling sad so I turned it into a fic??? I’m not tagging anyone because I haven’t done an updated taglist in so long and don’t want to tag anyone who isn’t interested in reading! Also thanks for 600 followers?!?!?

WC: 2,104

Warnings: angst with a happy ending <3

Her third year residency was supposed to be exciting and instead, she found herself dreading to go into work. She rather not see her boyfriend, or whatever they were, reminiscing about some place she assumed he used to go to with his ex who she just so happened to respect. It was hard not to let her feelings come between her work.

But the thing that really upset her the most, was how easily Ethan talked about their personal history while at work. The man who separated his personal and professional life with ease had no problem talking to his ex-girlfriend about anything besides medicine.

She felt left out of their conversations, she felt inferior when she was in the same room as them and that’s why whenever she got the chance, she was the first to leave after a meeting and it went unnoticed by him.

A fight was bound to break out at some point and it did.

Ethan was supposed to be picking her up in a couple hours for dinner but she just didn’t feel up to going so she ended up canceling. He called a few minutes later to check on her.

“Are you okay?” He asked, his voice laced with concern.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Why don’t you want to go to dinner then?”

“Because I have an early shift tomorrow morning and I’m tired,” she replied, a hint of aggravation in her voice. She did not want to have this conversation right now, instead she rather be curled up in a ball on her bed with a carton of ice cream.

“You don’t have an early shift tomorrow, Allison. Now, what’s really going on?”

Crap, she thought, completely forgetting he was the one who made her schedule. “Look, Ethan, I gotta go. Sienna needs me,” she said, silently hoping that he didn’t catch her lie. “I’ll talk to you later,” she added before hanging up, not giving him a chance to respond.

She sank back into the couch cushions, her limbs too exhausted to carry her into her room. She must’ve dozed off because the next thing she knew there was someone knocking at the door. Her feet begrudgingly treaded to the door and to her surprise, Ethan was standing outside with us hands in his pockets and hair dripping wet. She didn’t even know it had started to pour.

“What are you doing here?”

“We need to talk,” was all he said. The infamous phrase was sure to interrupt whatever plans she had for the rest of the night. She moved to the side of the door to let him pass through. She was thankful that all her roommates had to work tonight and they could talk alone.

Crossing her arms protectively across her chest, she decided to ask another question. “Can it wait until the morning?”

“No.”

“No?” She asked in disbelief.

“No,” he replied firmly. “Something is obviously bothering you and for this to work, we need to be able to communicate with each other.”

“What is ‘this?’ Because honestly, Ethan, you haven’t put a label on us. Whenever I try bringing it up, you always change the subject or you conveniently get a page. You were able to be honest with Harper, why can’t you be honest with me?”

“What does Harper have to do with this?”

“Why is Harper the only thing you got from what I just said?” That stung a bit. “What am I to you, Ethan? Am I your girlfriend? Just someone you fuck on occasion? A co-worker? Because this wondering, it’s exhausting. It is mentally draining and you don’t even notice it. You’re too busy talking to Harper about what you two used to do together to even notice when I walk into the office.”

“Is this really all about Harper?” He said, astounded.

“You know what, yes, it is about Harper. You used to be so hell bent on professionalism in the hospital, that’s why we had to hide that we were fucking for two years, but now? Now you don’t even care anymore.”

“Harper is just a friend, we have his-“

“History, I know,” she said, cutting him off. But what am I?”

He stood there, mouth agape and utterly speechless. “You’re… important to me,” he internally winced at how it sounded. It had sounded better in his head which is where it probably should’ve stayed.

“I’m important to you? That’s it? That’s all I get?” Tears pricked her eyes but she refused to let him see her cry, to let him see how much of an effect he had on her.

“I- well you’re more than important to me, I just…” Come on, Ramsey, just tell her that you love her, he scolded himself.

But the words never came. The room was deafening quiet with only the sound of thunder and the pitter patter of the rain outside against the windows. They stood there facing each other, eyes glued to one another before she turned her head to look out one of the windows. When she looked at him again, he noticed her eyes glistening with unshed tears and his throat constricted knowing he was the reason behind them.

“I… I don’t think this is going to work anymore. It hasn’t been working for a long time and I looked past it, too afraid to admit it to myself. Too afraid to see that the man I love, doesn’t love me back.”

Now is the time to tell her how you really feel, she just told you she loves you, he thought but still, the words didn’t come. They were locked deep down in his heart, with no key to open it.

“Allison…”

“I think you need to leave,” she said quietly, her voice breaking slightly. When she saw he was about to protest, she asked again. “Please, I’m going to start crying and I really need you to not see me crying right now.”

“I understand,” and against his heart screaming to not leave her, his brain told him to respect her wishes. With one last glance at her, he walked out the door and after he heard the lock click, he rested his forehead against the door and within seconds the sound of her sobs filled the empty apartment and he swore he felt his stomach drop.

His own tears fell as he headed back to his car and when he got in, he immediately started to regret his decisions over the last couple months. He didn’t even realize what he had been doing but it all made sense now and he couldn’t even be upset with her. He would’ve felt the same way if he was in her shoes and it put things into perspective.

He decided he would talk to her tomorrow, tell her how he truly felt and hope it would be enough.

After a sleepless night for both of them, Ethan and Allison arrived earlier than usual at the hospital, inevitably running into each other. Awkward glances ensured but before anything could be said, Allison disappeared down the hall.

He let out a frustrated sigh, it was going to be a long day.

Ethan walked into the Diagnostics office where Harper was already seated with two cups of coffee, one in his place and the other in Allison’s.

“Good morning,” she smiled brightly. “Where’s Allison?”

“Uh, she should be here soon.”

She raised a brow in confusion. “Is everything okay?”

Allison chose that time to make her entrance into the office. “Sorry for being late, what did I miss?”

“Nothing, we were waiting for you to arrive,” Harper answered, casting a glance between the two. Something was definitely going on.

Ethan briefed them on the patient arriving from Alaska with a sudden onset of mysterious symptoms. Afterwards, Allison wasted no time in excusing herself from the team to go check on their patient.

Harper noticed the longing look on Ethan’s face as he watched her leave. “What’s going on, Ethan? Did something happen between you and Allison?”

“You could say that,” he admitted.

“What did you do?”

Her question surprised him. “What? What do you mean ‘what did I do?’”

“Don’t play dumb with me, Ramsey. There’s nothing that woman wouldn’t do for you or for your relationship. Please don’t tell me you did something to mess up what is quite possibly the best thing that has ever happened to you.”

“...I love her,” he muttered under his breath.

“What?” She asked, not hearing him.

“I love her, Harper but I don’t know how to tell her. I’ve never told someone that before and it scares the hell out of me. She told me she loved me last night and I didn’t… I didn’t say anything, I couldn’t say anything. We had a fight and she wanted to know what we are and I don’t know what that is. All I know is that I love her and she’s it for me but how do I tell her that? How do I tell her that I love her so much that it terrifies me? How do I give into my fear that it won’t work out, that she’ll figure out that I’m not what she wants after all?”

“You just did,” she smiled softly, pointing her head to behind him where he turned around to see Allison standing in the doorway.

“I, uh, forgot the file and was coming back to get it,” she stammered out.

“I’ll let you two be,” Harper said, excusing herself but not before whispering to Ethan, “don’t mess this up.” She gave Allison a smile before heading out the door.

“Did you hear all of that?” Ethan asked, breaking the silence between them, his face a shade of crimson.

“Only if you meant it. If not, then no, I have selective hearing which is why I always only hear half of what you say at these boring team meetings when it’s not about patients,” she joked, trying to lighten the mood and it worked because Ethan let out a chuckle.

“I did mean it,” he said, his face turning serious once more. “I’m sorry it took so long for me to admit it and I know you deserved better than that but I’m just… I’m just scared.”

“What scares you?”

“I’ve never felt this way about someone and it was easy for my mom to leave me, the woman who gave birth to me left me without a second thought, and what would stop you? What if you found someone better than me or someone who is younger and can give you everything that I can’t… that’s what scares me,” he said taking a shaky breath, finally opening up to her.

She closed the distance between them, taking his hand in hers. “I don’t want anyone except for you, Ethan. You are exactly what I want, you’re it for me,” she smiled, repeating his words from earlier. “And I’m promising you right now that I will never leave. Pinky promise,” she laughed, holding out her pinky to him and he interlocked them together. “I don’t break pinky promises Dr. Ramsey and I hope you don’t either.”

“I pinky promise not to break our pinky promise.”

“Good because that would suck,” he laughed at her bluntness.

“I know. Thank you, Allie.”

“For what?”

“For not giving up on me or us.”

“Speaking of, what exactly are we?” She nervously asked.

“Will you do me the honor of being my girlfriend, Allison Parker?”

“I’m sorry, I only heard the part where you said to do you,” she winked at him, earning a laugh from him. “You know, selective hearing and all, but yes, I will be your girlfriend or whatever.”

“Ahh the words to my heart,” he said sarcastically.

“Aww you know you love me.”

“I do,” they shared a smile before he pulled her to him, placing his hands on the small of her back while hers wrapped behind his neck. The embrace was warm and familiar. “I love you,” he whispered, placing a kiss to her head and she just smiled against his chest, the words setting in for them both.

The words were a promise for the future.

[flashfuture]

Okay so I have a question. Is Oliver Queen a particularly shitty dad or something? Because I've seen him in a few comics, one of them with Connor, and honestly he seemed fine. Like I know him and Roy don't have a particularly great relationship, and Ollie kinda fucked up with him, but like is this just the case with Roy?

I'm asking this because people generally ignore this thing about Bruce, who has a been a mostly shitty dad for a while now, and generally make excuses for him, citing the fact that he wasn't always like this. Most fics featuring him show him as a good parent. But fanfic authors go out of their way to show Ollie as a terrible father, and an asshole in general, especially when pitted against Bruce? Why is it this way?

PS. I haven't read many Green Arrow comics.

Okay so this is gonna get long lol

Snowbirds Don’t Fly is where Roy is on heroin and there are many many misconceptions about this particular issue

#1 this was a PSA which means certain characters have to play a role even if it seems out of character 

#2 That is the only time ever that Ollie has hit Roy. And Roy hit him back later not that this excuses it but yeah nowhere near anything like Bruce

#3 The whole kicked out of the house thing. Roy was an adult. A full-grown adult who lived on his own. Roy only got into heroin because Ollie left on a road trip thinking his kid would be fine

#4 Ollie himself is an alcoholic so say what you will but personally, I know addicts in families can get pissed when other people also get addicted to things just based on personal experience 

#5 After fucking up Ollie went out of his way to learn everything he could about addiction and recovery. He went out of his way to earn Roy’s forgiveness and then a few years later Roy agreed to reconciliation. All this happened in the 70s and by the end of it Roy and Ollie were fine and firmly in the father-son category without much lingering animosity

But then the 90s and Chuck Dixon happened. Dixon hated Ollie. He wanted to kill Ollie. So he made Ollie as unbearable as possible. For example, Ollie who loves kids, always wanted kids pushed away Connor Hawke as soon as he learned it was his real son, ran off with eco-terrorists, and blew up in a plane crash. Really dumb story

Anyways after this Roy was heartbroken he’d lost his dad. Like they were really close and people really hang on to an argument/ fuck up that happened going on 50 years ago. While conversely as you said waving away arguments that have happened consistently and recently. And Bruce started being abusive in the 80s like full-on horrible dad after Jason died. 

Then in 2001 ish Ollie is brought back to life. And he’s handed off to Judd Winick. Winick is a racist, sexist, and all-around bad writer. He’s noted for creating a black love interest for Ollie just to kill her brutally because of an argument with a Black Lightning writer. 

The other thing is Winick played Ollie like a womanizer and a cheater. Birds of. Prey also ran with this because that series had a nasty habit of bashing men. 

So basically Ollie was called a cheater for that time he was drugged and assaulted, kissed against his will by a teenager who he pushed off, and slept with a woman while he and Dinah weren’t dating. Cheating.... I can’t even explain the level of devotion to Dinah that Ollie displays. She is it for him really he isn’t even a flirt. Hal is the flirt. 

Winick also whitewashed and sidelined Connor a bunch cause screw him right. 

So that series did not shed a good light on Ollie and it’s sort of done damage to his rep when we should be ignoring it like we do with King’s work because it was that bad and ooc. 

What was valid from that series was Ollie adopting Mia Dearden after seeing she could use a hand up from where was in life. What was valid was Ollie spending all the time he could with Connor because he missed out on his son's whole life. And spending time with Roy and his granddaughter Lian. Like Ollie loves kids he loves Dinah and he loves his family. 

That’s who he is. 

New52 is another reason. So Ollie got shafted and shafted hard. 

He and Dinah weren’t dating at the start? I don’t think they were

Roy was no longer Ollie’s son but his co-worker

Connor and Mia just didn’t exist. Mia showed up for 6 issues and hasn’t since. Connor has only recently re-appeared in the Robin comic. 

Ollie and Roy didn’t get along because Ollie fired Roy for drinking on the job and that was sort of it. They weren’t father and son here so it’s a weird idea to compare them to Jason and Bruce and if you look at canon Bruce is still the worse one

But Rebirth has reset Roy to being Ollie’s son and Ollie was crushed when Roy died. Is still crushed cause i don't think he knows Roy is alive. 

Also Ollie is just like a generally good dude. He’s a genuine socialist and environmentalist. He uses his money when he’s got it to promote these things and sometimes blackmails corrupt rich people into supporting social services. 

Like you know Dick saying he wants to be Blüdhaven’s safety net? That is a page right out of the Oliver Queen playbook. 

Ollie funds most of the justice league really always has since like Zero Hour. Bruce and him probably are the two who do but it’s remarked upon multiple times that Ollie was the first (in some timelines) and main benefactor. 

I’ve noticed what you have in fanfics too and it drives me crazy. With the addition or I should say lack of Dinah and Hal. Dinah was absolutely like a mother to Roy. She’s his mama. She got him through his detox. Hal was the one who brought Roy to her. 

(Most people gloss over that Hal was like an Uncle to both Roy and Wally)

So yeah whenever I see Ollie bashing plus no mention of Dinah I know that the writer knows next to nothing about Ollie. 

Also Bruce likes to say Ollie is just as bad as him when Ollie is categorically a better person in like every way lol. 

This isn’t to say there is anything wrong with fanon-ing Bruce. But I just don’t understand why Ollie is essentially fanon-ed in the opposite direction. 

Roy will always get along with Ollie better and be safer with him than Jason would be with Bruce. But fanon wants to play off like Roy hates Ollie and is terrified of him or whatever which even in the darkest New52 pits of hell that wasn’t even true. 

I’m not sure why it’s gotten to be this way tbh. Bruce, Dick, Ollie, and Roy are the golden ages boys who got to stay young and they’ve all been slandered by writers but fans seem really only capable of ignoring when Bruce is written badly which is so odd. Like Dick gets called out for things that are so wildly ooc it astounds me that Bruce out of all people is the one people want to ignore is just sort of the worst. 

Lol yeah I got ranty. As you can tell I am very passionate about this and I just wish more people would even try to find out about Ollie before assuming things that are not true. 

Hope this helped somewhat 

[letsgetusaghostfriend]

A Green Day concert, a bloody nose and a coming out – Sunset Curve & Green Day I

Summary: Luke and Bobby got them tickets for the Green Day show in LA on November 2nd 1994, also known as the night Billie Joe punched a homophobe and Alex came out to the guys.

Friendship fic, super Alex & Bobby centred, Luke and Reggie are not straight but don’t know that yet. Also, I know most people think Alex came out way earlier, but he has to not be out for this story to work.

((warnings: homophobia, homophobic language (not fully written out except in the band name of the opening act), slight violence, mentioned: alcohol, underage drinking (I am german, so for me it’s not underage drinking but yeah), in general: swearing))

word count: 4.9k, read here on AO3 x

~

Luke and Bobby got four tickets for the Green Day show in LA on November 2nd in 1994, it was one of Green Day’s bigger shows at that time. The boys previously have been to other concerts of the band, but the last one was in a small club in ’92, of course, all four of them being way too young for that place. Luke and Reggie were the first ones out of their group to get fake ID’s, mainly to go to gigs and play gigs. In the beginning, Alex thought he would never do the same, too scared of possible consequences, but then Luke used his stupid puppy eyes. (They still work even after Alex crush died, dead and buried). And if he was being honest, it was really helpful for playing clubs if the owners can at least pretend that they believe the four boys are old enough to be there.

Alex was aware that Green Day’s opening act, Pansy Division, was an all-gay band. And he was excited and scared at the same time. He found out because this one kid in his English class, Josh, went to the San Diego show earlier that week and told one of his friends that he shouldn’t go to the LA show as Green Day was just a bunch of “f*g lovers” and not worth their time. So Alex was scared: what if his friends would say the same thing?

They arrive late and the line is massive, Alex anxiety pitches in and reminds him that if it takes too long for them to get inside, he might miss Pansy Divisions performance. Logically he knows that they wouldn’t start letting people in so late that the opening band already starts when most people are not inside yet, but his anxiety is not that into logical thinking. He can’t help being fidgety, at one point Luke noticed and asks him if the crowd is making him uncomfortable. “Yeah, a little bit” Alex responds, not wanting further questions about why he was so anxious. The boys keep close to the bar, staying in the back first, not too excited to get into the crowd just yet. Alex knows the others would be inside the first mosh pit if it wasn’t for his anxiety, but not once did they show any signs of annoyance about his hesitancy. They just patiently wait for Alex to get used to the crowd and atmosphere, never angry when he has a bad day and he never signals that it is okay for them to go into the more crowded areas. Sometimes, especially when Luke doesn’t know where to put his energy he and Reggie go, but they always make sure that at least one person stays with Alex. He probably should tell them how thankful he is for this more often (the others would disagree here since they feel like Alex thanks them too much).

When Pansy Division started playing Alex didn’t expect them to actually sing about hooking up with guys at rock concerts, loving men, having real, deep and meaningful relationships and just, in general, doing normal daily life stuff, living with a boyfriend and how it feels after a breakup. He feels so excited, almost jumping up and down to the beat, not able to put his excited energy out on the drums like he would if it was their own concert. Alex completely forgets to check the guys for any reactions, too involved in the music. He doesn’t see that the other three boys enjoy Pansy Divisions music just as much as he does. He doesn’t see Bobby eyeing him from the side, a knowing glint in his eye.

Alex doesn’t know that Bobby saw the way Alex would look at Luke when they were 14, at Brian from History when they were 15, and how he sometimes looks at pictures from Billie Joe Armstrong in magazines. Bobby also didn’t miss Alex’ obsession with the song Coming Clean. The other boys sometimes forget about how Bobby’s parents are genuine open-minded people, who introduce him to a lot more diverse people than his friends’ parents do. So yes, maybe Alex was discreet enough for Mr Luke Oblivious Patterson and Captain Reg Oblivious Peters, and his parents who anyway only see what they want to see, but not for Bobby. Bobby, who might from an outsider’s perspective looks like he is standing a bit outside this friendship group due to him being less loud and sociable than his friends, but Bobby who loves his friends with all his heart, Bobby who truly sees his friends and knows that this is where he belongs. Seeing the absolute bliss, happiness and excitement streaming from Alex like waves is contagious.

After Pansy Division finished their set and there was a short break before Green Day would start theirs, Bobby slips from their group, mumbling that he would get another beer. Instead, he goes to buy Pansy Divisions EP, because the band was genuinely good but mostly because he knows Alex wouldn’t buy it, but he will definitely want it. On his way to the little corner where they sell the Green Day merch as well as Pansy Division stuff, Bobby realises that it was actually packed, but he soon saw that it was just a long long line for the Green Day merch. Actually, there are so many people he can’t even see the Green Day merch salesperson. He manages to get to the guy who took care of the Pansy Division stuff, he greets him with a head nod and a short “hey”, while scrambling his money out of his pant pockets to count it. He’ll have to nick a bit off of Luke’s beer later, not having enough money left to buy another one. When he reaches out to hand out the money for the CD somebody joins the guy who cared for the merch. Bobby recognises that it’s the singer of Pansy Division and he smiles at him. “Great performance, really enjoyed you guys’ music!”. The singer grins at that and holds out his left hand, which Bobby finds a bit strange, but takes it nonetheless.

“Jon, nice to meet you.”

“Bobby, pleasure is all mine.”

“Ah, you’re a musician yourself!” Jon says while checking out Bobby as if he could tell whether the kid in front of him was any good based on his appearance. It took the guitarist a second to realise that Jon must’ve felt his calloused fingers from playing the guitar during the handshake. “Yeah, I’m actually here with my bandmates.” A voice in his head, that sounds suspiciously like Reggie tunes in with “We’re Sunset Curve, tell your friends.” But Bobby pretty much felt like a child trying to play in the adults’ league, so he doesn’t say anything else. Jon grabs the CD he was about to buy and opens it while asking “So Bobby, is the CD for you or someone else?” Taken aback by that question Bobby tells him without thinking “We kind of always share records. Em, so maybe Sunset Curve?” Jon who was about to sign the inside of the CD case, pauses and looks up again “You’re in Sunset Curve?”

“Yeah, rhythm guitar.” He answers without much of a thought, it takes him two seconds then he adds: “You’ve heard of us?” Jon chuckles at Bobby’s shocked tone.

“Saw you play a few months ago. Didn’t remember your name till Mike mentioned one of your songs, always called you “the band with the cute drummer” actually.” Jon casually explained to a still shell-shocked Bobby. The comment about Alex makes him choke on his own spit though. Jon smirks, but before he can say more Bobby’s mouth starts talking before his brain gave its okay: “You saw us well enough to say that Alex is cute, but you didn’t recognise me?” After the words left his mouth, he feels his face heat up.

‘Way to embarrass yourself by having too much of an ego, Robert, great job’, he thought to himself. But Jon again laughs it off, as if he made a funny joke, smirks and asks if Alex was here tonight.

“He is,” Bobby says, voice cold, “he is also sixteen.”

Now it was Jon’s time to look embarrassed. “Oh shit, never mind then.” He pauses. “Sixteen is a bit young to play that club you played, isn’t it?” He pauses again. “You guys take this whole music thing seriously, I like that!”

More at ease again after Jon’s reaction to Alex’ age, Bobby’s brain finally catches up with everything Jon said before he called Alex cute.

“Wait, Mike as in Mike Dirnt? As in Mike Dirnt mentioned one of our songs?” he asks astounded. Jon laughs at the utter bewilderment that the younger one’s face was showing. But before he could say something about it a loud voice behind Bobby sneers: “Oh look at that, Bobby the f*g lover.” He turns around and sees Andrew from his math class. “Always knew at least one of you would be a shirt lifter!”

Bobby tries to take a deep breath before he answers but Jon beats him to it. “I would really think people were clever enough to listen to lyrics, but you still find the poser ones at these concerts, especially since Dookie got Green Day so popular outside of the scene!” Bobby needed a few seconds to realise that Jon wasn’t even talking to Andrew but instead just talked about him to Bobby and the guy selling the merch.

“Don’t you dare talk to me like that you fucking fairy!” Andrew sneers, stepping closer to Jon. As soon as Andrews anger is directed towards Jon and not Bobby anymore, the guitarists fight instinct kicks in.

“Fairy? Really?” he asks Andrew with a snigger in his voice, “Didn’t know we live in the 50s, Andrew. Learned all these terms from your daddy?” Bobby tries to make his voice sound as degrading as possible. For a second it seems like Andrew might shut up and leave but then Jon starts laughing loudly about Bobby’s comments and before anyone can react Andrew takes a swing and hits Jon right on the mouth. Without thinking, Bobby copies his action and the next thing he knows is that his hand hurts and Andrew has a red square on the side of his face. He glares at the guitarist and strikes again. This time the fist hits Bobby’s nose and he sees black stars in front of his eyes for a few seconds. After that, all hell is breaking loose and Bobby is being pushed around for what feels like a few minutes before he gets pulled aside and finds himself behind the selling booth with Jon by his side who has a busted lip that is still bleeding. Jon has a hand on the teen's shoulder and looks worried at him. “Fuck your nose does not look too good!” he says. Hearing the words Bobby brings his hand up to his nose and winces when he feels a sharp pain as soon as his fingers touch his nose. “Fuuuuuuuuck, Alex is going to kill me!” he groans at the thought of how the blond will react to seeing Bobby like this.

“Hey man, good punch you got on the dickhead there!” an excited voice states beside Bobby, which makes him turn his head probably a bit too quick, considering he just got punched in the face a few minutes before. But the guitarists' instincts were right: standing beside him was no other than Green Days’ singer, Billie Joe Armstrong. The blond (with fading blue in his hair) is smiling at Bobby and continues with “but I think mine was even better” while pointing at something behind Bobby, who turns around just in time to see security carrying a half-conscious Andrew out of the venue.

“You know that guy?”

“He goes to my school!” Bobby answers, still in awe looking after Andrew.

“Oh, you need to tell me about how he looks tomorrow, man I don’t miss high school but I’d love to go to school just to see that!” Billie Joe tells him and Jon, still sounding way too excited. When Bobby turns around again to look at the two musicians in front of him, he catches Jon telling Billie Joe that Bobby is part of the band they talked about the other day. Somehow getting even more excited by the news he fully turns back to Bobby. “Love that! We need more good people in this scene so we can make sure the music stays clean of dudes like that! Well, it was lovely punching homophobes with you Bobby, but I actually have a concert to play!”

And with that Billie Joe is gone through the door leading to the backstage area and Bobby looks at Jon hoping that he can find answers with him (like is he hallucinating?) but he just chuckles at the teenagers in awe face and takes the CD Bobby wanted to buy all along, as well as the money he had already paid and hands both back at the teen with the words “I think you paid enough for this already, thanks for sticking up for me!” And adding, when Bobby tries to give the money back again, “You better go so your bandmates don’t worry and you don’t miss the Green Day show!” Bobby thanks him and with a smile he makes his way back to the other boys while putting the money and the CD into his pockets.

When Alex finally sees Bobby come back to them, he feels relief washing over him. Alex always hates it when they split especially if one of them is on their own and Bobby has been gone for way too long. The first thing Alex notices is that Bobby doesn’t carry any beer or anything else that he could’ve brought from a bar, the second thing is that Bobby’s nose is bleeding. The easing relief is instantly replaced by worry as Alex's brain catches up with his eyes. As soon as the guitarist reaches them Alex starts searching his fanny pack for tissues and anything else that can help with a bloody nose, all while berating Bobby about getting into a fight. Reggie and Luke excitedly ask Bobby about it, but when their bleeding bandmate tries to tell them about what happened Alex just shushes him and gestures for him to look up so that he can take a better look at his nose. While Alex is still cleaning up Bobby’s face the crowd starts cheering and Alex turns around quickly to confirm his suspicion that the main act finally made it on stage. He keeps on cleaning his friends face from now slightly dried blood when he hears Billie Joe's voice over the speakers.

“Sorry guys, I know we’re late, but I had to punch a homophobe…” The rest of the sentence does not reach Alex’ brain as he looks at one of his best friends, whose nose was bleeding after obviously being punched and all he can hear is white noise, while the realisation, that Bobby being the homophobe who was just punched by Green Days’ singer, sets in. He feels a sharp sting in his chest all while feeling overwhelmed by fear, cold naked fear. And his thoughts race through his brain, too fast to actually make any sense, all he knows is that his worst nightmare seems to be coming true: the people he trusts the most will eventually leave him. They will hate him. They will think he is disgusting, and they will leave him. Unconsciously he takes a step back from Bobby, taking both his hands off his friends face but before he can totally spiral into his thoughts, he is caught by Bobby who holds the drummer by his wrists and looks at him like Alex offended him deeply.

“Seriously?” Bobby’s voice comes out sharper than he probably intended, softening his tone as he sees Alex flinch at him, “You actually think I am homophobic? Fuck Alex do you really think that poorly of me?” The guitarists' words and face are both filled with what Alex can only describe as hurt. Bobby attempts to say more but he is cut off by Billie Joe's voice coming over the speakers saying his name.

“A special thanks to Bobby from Sunset Curve! Make sure you check them out they’re a local band that’ll make it big one day, I’ll promise you! I swear, give them less than a year and they’ll be playing here on this very stage! Thanks, Bobby, for helping me punch a dickhead!” And with that they start into their first song, leaving the boys standing completely mind blown in the back, each one trying to comprehend what just happened. After a few seconds, Reggie, Luke and Alex all turn to Bobby with questioning faces, but Bobby concentrates on Alex’ face. “Do you believe me now?” When Alex nods the, still bleeding, guitarist feels relief wash over him. “Good! Because I already have your Christmas present and I literally know no one else who has the same taste that you have!” He actually manages to make Alex smile with his stupid comment, feeling like they might be okay again, he holds onto Alex’ sleeve, needing something to ground him, knowing that Alex is uncomfortable with public affection. He turns to Luke and Reggie who as soon as they have his attention try to bombard him with questions, but he stops them and promises to tell them later.

___

After the concert:

When they leave the venue, a wave of, for L.A. unusually cold air, hits Bobby’s face and clears his head a little, making it easier to think about everything that had happened. As he was the first one out of the four to step out in the cold air, he takes a deep breath before turning around to see the other three boys walk up to him. He notices that Alex pulls his jean jacket tighter around his body, clearly not enjoying the cold air as Bobby does. He smiles at Bobby and then follows Reg and Luke who started walking towards the side street where they parked the van before the concert. The two boys talk animatedly about the Green Days show, analysing every detail. Seeing one of their favourite bands live did distract the two enough for them to not ask any further questions, right now. Alex smile tells Bobby that the same did not count for the blonde boy. Bobby jogs up to Alex to walk beside him, but when he tries to initiate a conversation with his bandmate, the blonde just shakes his head and mumbles, that he has things to think, but as if to calm Bobby down, Alex takes his hand and squeezes it before they reach their van. The van they brought because they actually started to be able to book enough gigs to pay for it (and to actually need it), they all paid for it, even though they don’t talk about the fact that Bobby paid the biggest part, with him having the only parents who actually support the band.

Bobby is driving, with Alex in the passenger seat lost in his thoughts and Luke and Reggie in the back, trying to get Bobby to finally tell them about what happened at the venue. The guitarist promises to tell them as soon as they arrive at the garage, but despite the impatience from Luke and Reggie to find out about everything they still have a quick stop at a small diner on their way home to get their after-concert food.

Alex, Reggie and Luke all go straight for the couch while bobby prefers sitting on the floor, facing them. For a few seconds they all munch happily but soon Luke starts bugging Bobby about what happened at the club, so he puts his sandwich aside and takes a short breath. He doesn’t know where to start, he kind of wants Alex to know that he got the CD for him, but he doesn’t want to put any pressure on Alex, nor does he want the other two to find out about Alex liking boys before Alex wants them to.

“So,” Bobby starts, “we all really liked Pansy Division, right?” he asks with a nervous laugh tinting his words. He looks at the three boys on the couch for confirmation and gets it from two of the boys while Alex looks like he gets scared by the simple indication that he might have really liked the queer band they all saw tonight. Bobby acts like he didn’t see it while deciding, that he won’t tell the blond that Jon was hitting on him. That might be a bit much information for one night. “Well, I thought,” he continues while pulling out the CD he brought earlier “I’ll get us their CD.” He waves the CD then places it on the table in front of the couch so the guys can look at it.

“And that’s where I met one of the band members, Jon, he is the singer.” He looks up at his friends who all stare at him with a mixture of shock and curiosity on their faces, even Alex nervousness seems replaced. ‘I didn’t even get to the really shocking parts yet’, Bobby thought to himself.

“Okay, so we got talking, he found out I play in a band and when he asks for a name to use to sign the CD I just said Sunset Curve, because we always share records, like I mean I don’t even know who owns what anymore!” Luke looks dead serious while nodding his head, Alex starts smiling slightly and Reggie looks like he is trying really hard to separate their shared music collection in his head.

“Anyway, it turns out he saw one of our shows earlier this year and apparently, he was talking about one of our songs with Mike, but before you get too excited, I couldn’t ask him about it because that dick Andrew from my math class interrupted us. He called me a – eh, never mind” he stops himself, giving Alex a short glance – “he started calling me and Jon names and I kind of started making fun of him for using really outdated terms and when Jon laughed about that, Andrew hit him and then I hit Andrew and he hit me back and suddenly everything got crazy. Next thing I know is that I am behind the merch booth with Jon and Billie Joe Armstrong, and Andrew is being carried outside by security.” He tries to rush the words out fast enough so that Luke doesn’t stop him because of the band being recognised and Alex doesn’t stop him because he hit someone.

“And then Billie Joe finds out I am in Sunset Curve and he says something about it being good that more good people will keep the scene going or something and then he pretty much left to play the show and Jon gave me the CD and I went back to you guys so you wouldn’t worry too much.” When he finally finishes his story, he is staring at three really shocked looking faces.

“Mike Dirnt and Billie Joe both know of Sunset Curve?”

“Who knew Bobby is such a badass!”

“You hit Andrew?”

All three started talking at the same time, but then Alex stands up and he looks real mad and everyone else shuts up. Bobby looks at him. “Alex, I didn’t plan to, it just happened. I got so mad when he started calling Jon these awful names and when he hit him, I just snapped.”

“What about our no fighting rule, huh?”

“So, when someone is being super homophobic, I am just supposed to do nothing?”

At that moment Bobby realises that Alex didn’t process until now that Andrew was using homophobic slurs against Bobby and Jon. He sees Alex anger vanish from him in mere seconds, replaced by fear and sadness settling in his eyes. Lips pressed into a thin line Alex sits down on the couch again. It breaks Bobby’s heart to see his friend like this. They all stay silent for a while.

“What did he say?” Alex asks with a voice so quiet Bobby almost misses it.

“Alex,” he sighs, “I am pretty sure you don’t want to know!”

With that Alex's eyes, which were glued to his hands before, snap up and meet Bobby’s. “You know, don’t you?” Alex asks Bobby, seemingly completely forgetting that the other boys are in the room.

Bobby does not know what to answer, not wanting to make Alex come out because he feels like he has to, or because Bobby figured it out already. “I only know what you want me to know, everything else is just a hunch.” He finally settles on.

Alex laughs. “So, you definitely know, and I actually thought I was being subtle.”

“I still love you, you know that, right?” Bobby just needs Alex to know that. Even if this is a weird one, Bobby wants this to be the reaction Alex gets for his first coming out.

It takes Alex a few seconds but finally, he looks up again, searching Bobby’s face for any trace of him lying. As Alex realises that the boy in front of him means what he said he feels like the biggest wave of relief washes over him. This, black-haired, awkward and quiet boy in front of him, who buys CD’s from queer bands, punches one of his classmates because he was being a homophobic bigot to a complete stranger and whose first reaction to Alex half-assed coming out is to tell him that he still loves him. This boy, who is so uncomfortable with most people touching him, who still wants to hold all of their hands all the time, calling them grounding. This boy, who would probably punch more people to protect them because he gets crazy protective about the people he cares about. And suddenly it’s difficult not to start crying and Alex feels like his voice will break if he tries to talk so he just nods.

And in that second, knowing he has Bobby on his side for this, he decides that he wants them all to know. So, he gets up from the couch and “gets on the runway” as Luke likes to call Alex’ nervous walking occasionally. After walking up and down three times, he suddenly stops, turns to Luke and Reg who look super confused by what is happening and he blurts out “Iamgay” so fast that there was no way that any of the guys could’ve understood a single word. So, he takes a deep breath and repeats: “I am gay” while standing there, eyes closed, and breath held.

“Oh, that…” Luke starts, but he gets interrupted by Reggie who says: “That makes so much sense, that is why you were staring at Brian so much last year! That really confused me, man!”

“I was... I was not staring at Brian Denver!” Alex sputters embarrassment creeping in his cheeks.

“You totally were, you even knew who Reg was talking about right away!” Luke laughs and gets up to pull Alex in a big hug, squeezing him tight. Reggie gets a hold of them and pulls them down on the couch where he squeezes between them, and wooshes through Alex’ hair affectionately. Alex, now half sitting on the couch and half lying on Reggie looks up to Bobby, who stands awkwardly in front of the couch. As the other two notice Bobby as well they all kind of freeze in their cuddle pile. Even as Bobby was more comfortable touching his bandmates than he was with touching his parents, or literally anyone else, he still never expressed any interest in being part of a cuddle pile before. Seeing how all of his friends stopped as he approached, the guitarist started taking a step back, but Alex stopped him by holding out his hand for Bobby to take. It takes him a few seconds but finally, he lets himself being pulled on top of Alex into the cuddle pile and even though it feels strange at first he likes the feeling of Alex’ soft t-shirt under his cheek, Reggie’s arm around his waist and the smell of Luke’s cologne.

Later that night Bobby snatches a picture of his best friends still cuddling on the couch hours later, now all fast asleep. He hasn’t shown that picture to anyone except for his daughter when she finds out about the band 25 years later and he decides to tell her about the loves of his life, even if most people wouldn’t recognise them as it since it was purely platonic love. And even though he got married, he never loved anyone as much, with the exception of his daughter, as he loved the three boys who left him when he was just 17 years old.

The next day Bobby snatches a picture of Andrews black eye. He shows that picture to Billie Joe, backstage at an event he attempts without his best friends after the man recognises him as the kid with whom he punched a homophobe. After that Bobby leaves the event early, not being able to hold up the image of Trevor, too consumed by grieve and guilt. Guilt over not being able to protect them. Guilt over not dying with them. Guilt over using their songs.

[daily-dose-of-imagines]

'𝘛𝘪𝘭 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘥𝘰 𝘶𝘴 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵-𝕟𝕤𝕗𝕨

Here is a little marriage one-shot with Kakashi x reader! It’s about tying the knot and the spicy times that come after the party~~ ( ´థ౪థ)

Always wear a condom kids.

Let’s have some FUN! Do not read of you are not of age!

>Admin 𝕋

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　 ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

It happened. It finally happened. After three years of being engaged with her, they were finally able to get married and become official. The night was magnificent; everybody from the village was there to witness the occasion, and they were all happy to finally see the two lovebirds make their vows to each other.

Kakashi was the happiest of them all, though, when he saw (y/n) wearing her wedding dress. She looked simply ethereal to him, her hair pinned up and her make up enhancing her features to make her look like a goddess. When she walked down that aisle, Kakashi thought he was going to tear up(he did). Her smile was wide and her heart was spilling with affection, and Kakashi knew he was making the best decision he has ever made.

When the ceremony was over, everybody that was at the venue waved goodbye to the newlyweds, congratulating them and giving them prayers to a long and fruitful marriage, and Kakashi knew he wasn’t going to ever let her go.

Closing the door behind him, he focused his gaze to his wife, seeing her in her cute dress that she changed into for the ceremony, with it’s short pink skirt showing off her decadent legs. She wasn’t paying attention when he tip-toed to her and wrapped his arms around her waist and gasped, but giggled. She intertwined her hands through his and questioned, “What are you doing?”

“What? Am I not allowed to hug my wife?” him whispering wife into her ear made her feel a taut pull in her stomach, her neck going red.

“That’s sounds weird.” she muttered and Kakashi chuckled, kissing her neck, making her shudder. 

“It’s sounds perfectly right to me, Mrs. Hatake.” (y/n)’s heart grew in size with love and she turned around in Kakashi’s embrace, kissing him softly on the lips.

“So, Mr. Hatake, what would you like to do, now that we are officially married?” she asked, peppering his face with kisses between which each word. Kakashi smiled, rubbing her back.

“Oh, I have lots of ideas on what I want to do, but I’m more interested in what you want.” he told her. She tilted her head in thought before smirking up at Kakashi, giving him her best bedroom eyes. Letting hom go, she started to talked to the bathroom, whiling pointing to the bed.

“You go sit on the bed while I change.” 

Kakashi did as he was told and plopped onto the end of the bed, excited to see what she had in store for him. After a few minutes of shuffling being heard behind the bathroom door, (y/n) came out dressed in a white lace robe matched with a white laced bra and panties, most of her skin exposed for Kakashi to see. Her hair was down, surrounding and framing her face perfectly.

She slowly walked over to stand in front of Kakashi, her cheeks flushed, and Kakashi was struck speechless. Looking her up and down, he gulped down his arousal and nodded in approval. “You look amazing,”  was the only thing he was able to get out. She chuckled, swaying on her feet, and did a little twirl for him. Kakashi bit his lips to control himself.

“I’m glad you like it. I asked for help from Kurenai in picking it out, though she wasn’t too thrilled about it.” she explained, now playing with the strings on the robe. Kakashi grinned, then took the robe in his own hands, tugging her until she stood in between his legs and kissed her belly button.

“You made a great choice then.” he murmured to her, and placed open mouthed pecks on her hip bones. (y/n) sighed, rubbing Kakashi’s shoulders and back, egging him on. She then lifted up a knee to rub at his crotch an noticed that he was already hard.

Smiling, (y/n) moved him away from him slightly and pushed back so he was sitting further onto the bed, then proceeded to kneel above him, her knees on either side of his hips. She arched down and kissed Kakashi’s lips, opening his mouth up with her tongue to taste him, while rubbing down his muscled body, trying to memorizing everything with her hands alone.

He was doing the same, feeling every part of her body, the best part being her thighs. He squeezed when he got to them, leaving red marks, just like how she loves. 

Leaving his mouth she went down to his jaw then his neck then down his collarbone, leaving kiss marks in her wake. She could hear his breathy groans and her core was quaking with want; wanting to feel him in her, wanting to hear him scream her name. Lifting herself up, she undid her bra, letting it fall to the side of the bed, and she saw the pure need in Kakashi’s eyes, his pupils wide.

He immediately buried his face into her chest, his mind reeling from how good she smelt. Wanting to feel her, Kakashi flipped them and put her on the bed this top, with him on top. He looked down and saw how red her face was, and how turned on she looked for him.

Fuck.

It wasn’t fair.

It was never fair with her.

His member was already aching, he could feel the cloth of his pants straining against him, a wet spot showing up. He saw as she looked down and bit her lip as she stared at his rising cock. Growling lowly, Kakashi took her lips harshly, biting and licking. He placed his shaft against her core, and slowly moved them together in a languid motion. His smooth thrusts caused (y/n)’s mind to fill fireworks and her second heart to pound uncontrollably. 

She took her hand and reached in between them, and went under Kakashi’s clothes, trying to find Kakashi’s hard cock. When she did, she soon started to stroke him, fast and hard, just how he liked it. 

He was panting above her, his hot breath hitting her ear. Kakashi was trying to hold on, but she knew all of his weaknesses, and he was too far gone already to try to keep from cumming. But, within seconds, he was spilling all over her hand with a spine tingling shudder and a hitch of breath, his orgasm hitting him like a train. When he got over his minute high, he looked over to see (y/n) was licking up his cum from off her fingers, her face showing how much she loved the taste of it.

In seconds he was hard again, and ready to get to the main dish. Sitting up, Kakashi quickly took off her panties, and saw how soaked she was. Smirking, he lifted up a leg over his shoulder and lined up his member to her awaiting hole, but didn’t put it in quite yet.

(y/n) whimpered, “What are you doing, Kakashi, come on--”

“What do you want me to do, huh?” Kakashi teased, rubbing his shaft against her. She moaned, meeting his thrusts with her own.

“Please don’t make me it say it.” she muttered, panting. 

“I won’t know until you tell me, (y/n).” she sighed and groaned loudly at one particular shove.

“Fuck me, Kakashi, for God’s sake, fuck me!” she yelled at him. Kakashi smiled widely before pushing through her walls, moaning in the process.

“Fuck...You’re so tight for, (y/n),” he moved out then in again,”so tight.”

(y/n)’s dropped her head to the bed, feeling the way he penetrated her with practiced ease, knowing everything that will make her go insane. Slow then fast then slow, a pattern that was sure to make sure she becomes an incoherent mess.

Getting bored one position, Kakashi takes her leg down and turns her onto her stomach, still inside, and begins a shallow beat, trying to as deep as he can possibly go. He laid his whole body atop of her, while pushing deep inside her, listening to her cry and mewl out in ecstacy. Kakashi wrapped his arms beneath and held onto her tightly while one hand went lower and started rubbing her clit fitfully, going faster and faster and faster, and all (y/n) could do was lay there and take it.

“(y/n), I’m close..” Kakashi grinded out. 

“K-Kakashi....Me too...” she muttered into the sheet, only hoping Kakashi could hear her. 

With one last thrust, Kakashi sputtered and yelled out, spilling his seed inside (y/n). She climaxed a long with him, loving the feel of him orgasming insider, making her feel full. 

He was panting above for a few minutes before finally rolling off her, sweating. She giggled and kissed his cheek, still feeling the after effects of their love session. “Well, that was fun.”

“Really, that’s all you have to say?” Kakashi said, astounded. She full on laughed this time before getting up, and saddling Kakashi’s hips. He could feel  his semen leaking out of her.

“Well, I’m not really that satisfied yet, Mr. Hatake. Let’s go for another round.” she said, already feeling Kakashi responding to her seduction.

She was going to be the death of him.

[youbloodymadgenius]

Free (Modern!Ivar x reader)

A/N: This is my contribution to @dreamwritesimagines 10k Challenge. Congrats again, love, you’re amazing and this huge milestone is well-deserved 🌺

Prompt in bold

@inforapound - thank you for beta reading this for me ❤️

Let me know if you want to be tagged 😊

Summary: After a long day, Ivar and you are finally home. He’s been moody all day and it looks like it’s not going to change anytime soon.

Warnings: angst I guess; a lot of swearing; NO happy ending (sorry about that); Ivar is an asshole (not sorry about that).

Words: 2139



Dumbfounded and mad as hell as it’s so fucking unthinkable, you look at Ivar with wide eyes. "You're fucking kidding me, right?"

 So, that's what it was? 

 Ivar had been in a sour mood all day, more often than not taking it out on you. It wasn't pleasant, but you were used to such things. He always was uncomfortable during  those huge gatherings – both familial and business  – that Ragnar loved so much. Today hadn't been different. Sigurd's tauntings, pitiful looks and averted gazes, overbearing presence of Aslaug, everything always was a bitter reminder of his condition. Therefore, as usual you hadn't taken offense at his snarky remarks, thinking that everything would be alright at the end of the day when you two would be back in your shared apartment. 

 Obviously, you were wrong.

 "Ivar, fuck, look at me!" You burst out, irritated by his silence, your hands on your hips. 

 Sitting on the edge of the bed, he doesn't even flinch as he slowly and carefully takes off his leg braces. Usually, knowing how sore he can be after such a long day, you would help him, but today is anything but a normal day, his last allegation running through your head. 

 Eyes averted, he keeps ignoring you, which is infuriating. With growing anger coursing through you, you step forward, putting your hands on his shoulders. You squeeze them tight, your pulse speeding up. 

 "I'm talking to you, Ivar!!!" 

 As he slowly raises his head, quirking a brow, you can see the smirk that tugs at his lips. There's no gentleness in his eyes. He keeps quiet, waiting for you to carry on. 

 And that's what you do, unable to stop yourself. It's like you're possessed, like your rage has taken over.

 "You can't be fucking serious, Ivar!!!" You shout, furious and astounded, your breathing short and loud. "How can you think I'm cheating on you? And with Olaf on top of that?!! Don't you realize how offensive it is? Fuck Ivar, you're crazy!"

 "I'm just saying what I saw, Y/N." Ivar's calm demeanor is unsettling, his stare is cold as you gasp for breath, outraged and shocked. 

 "And what did you see exactly, uh?" You manage to say, your hands now twirling and pulling your hair. "Tell me, Ivar. What did you fucking see?"

 "You were flirting shamelessly with him. That's what I saw. Sorry for just stating the obvious." There's so much disdain in his voice, you shiver.

 "I– How? I wasn't–" You stammer and take a deep breath, gathering your thoughts. "You're a fucking asshole, Ivar, you know that? Oh, for fuck's sake, I wasn't flirting with Olaf. I was courteous to a very important business partner of your father's."

 "Always the loyal employee, huh, Y/N?" Ivar spits, his lips curled into a spiteful grin, hard feelings and sarcasm obvious. You might throw up.

 The truth is, he's right. And it's nothing to be ashamed of. Even if you're not working for Ragnar anymore – you quit as soon as your relationship with Ivar became somewhat serious – you still have Ragnar's best interests at heart. You were his personal assistant for three years, after all, working  alongside him sometimes more than twelve hours a day. 

 "Yes Ivar, that's what I am, and you know that! You can't possibly hold it against me, your father's business is yours too." You retort angrily, but you can feel something else in your mind, in your heart. Helplessness, you think. 

 Two years. It has been two years and Ivar still doesn't trust you. Still suspects you, everywhere and all the time. You're so tired. Tired of that kind of relationship. Tired of him? As soon as the question pops out in your head, you know the answer. Yes. Of course, you are. You can't take it anymore. Even if it breaks your heart.

 Unaware of your inner turmoil, Ivar doesn't stop. "You were touching him!" He hisses through clenched teeth, releasing his right leg from its titanium brace. "You were fucking touching him. Don't think I didn't see it! You didn't have to, but you did it anyway. What am I supposed to infer, Y/N?" Narrowing his eyes, he snorts, his fists gripping the edge of the bed, his knuckles white.

 "Certainly not that I fuck him behind your back!" You shout, throwing up your hands. Biting your bottom lip, you shake your head in disbelief. "You are ridiculous, Ivar." Your harsh tone startles the both of you, as you're usually the sweet and patient one. But not tonight. Not when he drives you up the wall one more time. Maybe one too many… 

 "Did you see the fucking dude, Ivar?" You carry on, still shouting, because you need to make your point. It's so fucking unfair. Ivar is so fucking unfair. "He's fat, and bald, and old. And I can't even look at him in the eye because all I can see is the monster zit in the middle of his forehead and… yikes! Fuck, I wasn't touching him, Ivar!" Breathless and frustrated, you briefly cover your face with your hands before speaking again, your tone calmer, almost defeated. "You saw us, right? So you know. I was just walking him to his seat, like your father asked me to. I wasn't flirting with him, I couldn't even fathom doing that, you know? How can you, Ivar? How fucking can you??? Stop this nonsense, please, you're smarter than that! You got eyes, fuck! Olaf is disgusting!"

 Barely shrugging, Ivar looks you up and down with pursed lips. "He has two working legs, though." 

 You roll your eyes, utterly fed up. Before, Ivar saying something like that would have moved your heart, but not anymore. Every time you and he have a fight, he shamelessly pulls the disabled card on you, just to make you feel guilty. It doesn't work tonight, though. You're no fool. There's no sadness in his voice, only sourness and malice. He's stubbornly furious about something that doesn't exist, and therefore ready to push all the right buttons. And you, you're sick and tired of that kind of ploy. 

 "Fuck Ivar, we're past that point! You know I don't give a shit about your legs! You do, but it's not my fault and I won't let you make it about them! And you know what? This is not about me, this is about you! You wouldn't trust me even if you could run a hundred meters, fucking admit it!" Blinking back tears, you let out a huff of frustration.

 Ivar quirks a brow, and the brooding look of anger on his face tells you that he's not going to let go, not yet. "You're not making any sense, Y/N! This has everything to do with you! You, the ungrateful daughter of a worker, who always wants more! More money, more shiny things, more fame, and a better man than the cripple!" He snaps at you with an air of defiance, gritting his teeth.

 Your whole body starts to shake as you process his words. Ivar has never been out of line like this. "What the hell? You're a fucking bastard, Ivar!! You know that's not true! You're so fucking wrong!" You manage to say, seething at the insult.

 You're not perfect, not by a long shot. But you sure are not a gold digger, never have been and never will be. Because of your simple background, you've always been afraid of being suspected of being interested in Lothbrok's money. That's exactly why you've never stopped working, despite your lover's protests. 

 So, Ivar making such accusations is absolutely revolting, infuriating and once again completely unfair. 

 Tilting his head, he looks at you with stormy eyes. "Am I, really?" He asks in a cold voice, eyebrows raised. "Wrong, I mean. Because, you see, I don't think so." He's suddenly incredibly calm, like he's just teaching something to a stupid child and not in the midst of a lovers' quarrel. A sly smirk on his face, he scoffs, folding his hands on his lap. "I'm just stating a fact, Y/N. After all I've done for you, that's how you thank me? By blatantly flirting with Olaf Haraldsson?"

 That's the exact moment when you realize. When you know. Despite your best efforts, it will never get better. Ivar will always be difficult, you will always do everything you can to soothe him, make him happy and in the end, you will always be the one who feels hurt. 

 You thought your love would change him, but you were wrong. How naive you've been! People never change. And now, you're exhausted. For two years, you had to endure his bad faith, his tantrums, his wrath, his distrust, his jealous fits… You can't anymore. 

 Of course, there were good times as well. Sometimes – rarely – Ivar can be sweet and caring. But is it worth it? The thought has been playing on your mind these last few months. Suddenly, the answer is clear.

 So, there's only one thing left to do. It may be painful, but there's no other choice.

 Dropping to your knees, you pull a suitcase out from under the bed. Fresh tears are trickling down your cheeks and you stifle a sniffle. Ivar ducks his head and watches you, furrowing his brows. 

 "What the fuck are you doing, Y/N?" He snarls at you, his jaw clenched, barely restrained. Scooting closer surprizingly quickly, he grabs your wrist, squeezing it tight. You wince, locking eyes with him nevertheless.

 "It's pretty obvious, isnt'it? I'm leaving tonight, Ivar." Fortunately, you sound more confident than you are and as Ivar releases you, utterly surprized, you take advantage of it and move away from him, dragging your suitcase with you. 

 "WHAT???" He roars, as one of his fists hits the mattress hard. There's so much fury in his eyes that you struggle to keep your head up. 

 Swallowing, you heave a sharp breath. "I'm. Leaving. Tonight." You immediately turn away, reaching into your closet and start throwing clothes into the suitcase on the floor. 

 You can easily imagine the look on his face. Ivar must be stunned. Flabbergasted. The long silence that follows your words confirms it.

 Eventually, he clears his throat. "You can't do that. You're mine." His voice is cold as ice and you can feel his eyes on you. You shudder, closing your luggage. A small part of you is disappointed. You realize that you were maybe hoping for something different. Perhaps expressed feelings. You should have known better, though. It's Ivar, after all.

 Slowly turning toward him, you bite your inner cheek, blinking back tears. As you tilt your head, you peer into his eyes. Hiding your shaky hands behind your back, you speak with a firm voice. "You're wrong. I'm a free woman, Ivar. You don't own me, you never did, in spite of all that you did. Because that is what you did, not for me, but to me, Ivar. You spied on me, threatened me, tried to control me. This isn't how a relationship works. I tried…" Your words catch in your throat, you have to stop for an instant. "I wanted to give you time, because I loved you. I probably still love you. But it's not enough. I can't do that. Jealousy isn't love, Ivar. Possessiveness isn't love. Love is about trust, and that's something you've never given me. So yes, Ivar, I'm leaving tonight, and there's nothing you can do to stop me." Closing your eyes briefly, you exhale, feeling the weight of your words settle over the two of you. Ivar doesn't move, as if petrified. 

Grabbing the suitcase, you put your hand on the doorknob, your stomach churning unpleasantly. "Good bye, Ivar," you say softly, suddenly dispirited but no less convinced that you're doing the right thing. 

 You're almost out of the room when Ivar speaks, making you stop in your tracks. "Will you ever come back, Y/N?" His wavering voice sends shiver down your spine and you swallow a thick lump in your throat before looking at him. His eyes are wet, his bottom lip quivering. For the first time in… forever, you see the Ivar you fell in love with. The Ivar who allows himself to feel, to care. Maybe even to love. 

 But it's too late. You won't change your mind. You owe it to yourself. 

 Raising your head, you look at Ivar, still sitting on the bed."Will you ever change, Ivar?" 

 A series of emotions run across his face, but silence is his only answer. You slowly nod, blinking nervously. "That's what I thought."

 There's nothing more to say and so you leave, closing the door behind you. Your heart is bleeding, your soul is crying but you did what you had to do, finally.

 You are a free woman. 

🛡⚔️🛡

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