#I think I’ve been so used to them making minor appearances or having side roles in eps

[creativity-deficient]

Thinking about how if you don’t count Tweek x Craig (since that mostly takes place before they become a couple), we only have one creek centered episode 😔😔😔

[zephyrchama]

(Mentions/descriptions of minor injuries, present and past.)

“There, all good.”

“Thanks, Satan.”

Your leg looked much better now that it had been disinfected and bandaged. Not that it was in bad shape to begin with.

Anyone would have thought a dire medical emergency occurred by the way everybody had leaped into action when you fell. Six of the brothers somehow managed to carry you together - one for each limb and another two on the sides to support your back - because they couldn’t pick just one person to help you back to the classroom.

It was incredibly embarrassing. You closed your eyes to avoid making eye contact with any of the other students, but you still heard the hallway whispers and Thirteen’s loud laughter.

Once back inside, Lucifer immediately evacuated his seat behind the podium at the front of the room. You were placed down like a precious glass ornament. Each brother played a different role in patching you up, but you would have been fine on your own.

“This cut kind of reminds me of one I got as a kid.” You twisted your leg around a few times to look it over. “It’s in the same spot.”

Mammon leaned against the back of the chair and grabbed your shoulders. “Are you tellin’ me you cut your leg before?”

“…yes?”

“First time I’ve heard that.” Beelzebub frowned.

Satan nodded thoughtfully, hand on chin, “you’ve never told us this before.”

“Yeah, ‘cuz I just remembered it.” It happened so long ago that you completely forgot.

Asmodeus buried his face in his hands. “How could you be so irresponsible?”

“I was a kid! Kids get scrapes all the time. I probably got it the same way, too.”

“You fell? Well… At least it didn’t scar.”

“Asmo, how d’ya know that?” Mammon asked.

“Because I know every inch of their skin very intimately.” Asmodeus smirked.

Mammon gripped your shoulders tighter. “Ok! Well! So do I!” he growled.

Leviathan came to sit on the floor next to you, looking worried. He fiddled with your pants leg to make sure the hem wouldn’t roll down over your bandage. “So there were other times you got hurt as a kid?”

“I mean, yeah? Bruised my arm pretty badly one time, right here.” You pointed to the spot.

“How come you never told us?” Belphegor asked. He was craning his head up to look at you while laying on the table, which Lucifer hadn’t noticed until that moment. The eldest gave him a push.

Belphegor muttered some choice words and slunk off to get a chair of his own, which he relocated closer to you. It screeched loudly as he dragged it along the floor. Beelzebub just stared and the others flinched, but Satan and Lucifer looked ready for violence until the youngest finally plopped down.

“We’re supposed to know everything about you,” he stated.

“Since when?”

“Since forever,” Leviathan was quick to clarify. “You have to tell us everything, and don’t spare any details.” His sentence ended there, but you swear you heard “the lore…” whispered almost imperceptibly.

“You better not be holdin’ back on us.” Mammon shifted a bit. He appeared to be getting tired of standing, but didn’t want to give up his prime real estate by your side.

“So I have to tell you everything? Like… when a butterfly poked me in the eye?”

A couple of them winced.

“Did it hurt?” Asmodeus asked.

“Did you tear it apart?” Belphegor asked.

“No, I think I was more shocked than anything? Maybe a little? And no!” You glanced down. “Levi, stop taking notes about me.”

Leviathan tutted and swiped out of the notes app on his D.D.D..

These demons and their theatrics. You couldn’t help but smile. “You’re all just overreacting, as usual.”

Satan shook his head. “No, I think you’re under-reacting. There are lots of dangers to humans in the Devildom. You could have gotten a nasty infection.”

Asmodeus gasped, “you could have lost your leg!”

”Or attracted predators,” Beelzebub added.

“On school grounds? Please. At worst I’d only attract Mephisto sniffing around for a scoop for his newspaper.”

Lucifer crossed his arms. You had faith he was going to say something sensible. “At least this isn’t as bad as that time you bruised your rear in the bath.”

There were seven scandalized gasps, including your own. “I told you that in confidence!”

Mammon was yelling in your ear, “how come I wasn’t the first to know about this? Hah?”

Asmodeus lept forward, “show me where!”

“Is it still there?” Satan inquired.

“Do you not trust us anymore?” Beelzebub looked deflated.

“That’s not it, Beel, I just- ack, Levi!” You shouted and shook your bandaged leg as the third-born clung to it desperately.

“It wasn’t my bathtub, right?” he practically sobbed. “Aahhh, I knew I needed to fill it with more pillows. Ahhhh.”

“Why would they be anywhere your tub?” Belphegor took hold of Levi’s collar and wretched him back. By the way he fell, it wouldn’t be odd for Leviathan to get a butt bruise, too.

“If it happened in your room, you would have been there,” you assured, knowing this would start another round of arguing.

The bell signaling next period mercifully rang. You’d never been happier for class to start again. All that was left was to get to your usual seat, which you stood up to do.

“Woah, whaddya think you’re doing?” Mammon put an arm in front of you.

“Going to my seat…?”

“You’re in it, sit back down.” Lucifer said.

You hesitated, giving them a puzzled look. For a moment you considered running past them. A simple cut wouldn’t hold you back, but there were no scenarios where you could outrun them without magic. You narrowed your eyes and sat down as the seven surrounded you again. You got a bad feeling.

“Just make it quick.”

Other students were already starting to filter into the room. You didn’t particularly want to be seen being relocated by these overly doting brothers. You grabbed the edge of the seat as four of them lifted it up, with the others griping about there being insufficient space for them to grab hold anywhere.

[jerreeeeeee]

Balance fic recs

some of my favorite balance fics. various ages, popularities, and lengths. i’ve been wanting to do a rec list for a while!

caramel by nevereverever

The first time Taako is left alone, it isn't pretty. But their lives are stuck in a loop and people come back and die again and again and he wonders if there will ever be a time when he doesn't have to fear being left alone.

2.7k, Taako & Lup Lup dies one cycle and then, years later, she dies again. But she always comes back. Hurt/comfort of the best kind.

Warmth by noxic

"It was a well-known fact among the residents of the Starblaster that Lup, Barry, and Taako slept in the same bed more often than not. It was one of those things that they just did without really talking about it."

2.1k, Barry & Lup & Taako The BLT fic of all time. Quality platonic adult sleepovers.

Taako the Matchmaker by @fantasysamsclub

In which Taako tries to set up his sister. Events take place during Stolen Century.

11.1k, Blupjeans & Taako Taako tries to set up blupjeans. Miscommunication ensues. Very sweet and funny.

red fishing line by @anistarrose

A routine performance of Sizzle it Up goes nightmarishly wrong, and at Lup’s bedside, Taako feels helpless. And when a red-robed guest appears before him, Taako doesn’t know how or what to feel at all.

3k, Barry & Lup & Taako Also the BLT fic of all time. Excellent subtle Taako characterization, and my favorite depiction of the familiarity-but-not of being voidfished. Warning for major character death.

Sunny-Side Up by @barry-j-blupjeans

And the world? The world loved Taako. For once in his gods-damned life, people loved him. They didn’t care about all the flaws, they didn’t care where he came from or who he was before. They loved his food and they loved him. No one would ever quite be at Taako’s level and that was something he thrived on. There would never be anyone who could measure up. Taako deserved this happiness. He worked for it. He wasted his fucking life away for it.

5.7k, Taako A wonderful character study, revolving around the role food plays in Taako's life. Fairly minor but impactful characters like Sazed and Taako's aunt are utilized in a very meaningful way. So well-written and warm. Warning for brief suicidal ideation.

On the Deck of the Starblaster by @papergardener

“What the… what are you all doing? We have work to do!” It’s a justified reaction, Lucretia thinks, to finding your entire crew literally lazing about on deck not an hour into this new cycle. “This one's on me,” Taako says. “It’s a new trend I like to call: taking a fucking break.” Cycle Nintey-Five. Everyone’s maybe not doing so good and could use a little warmth.

6.5k, Lucretia & Taako Near the end of the century, Lucretia is feeling rough. Taako pulls her out of her funk and initiates a much needed rest. Fantastic characterization, of Lucretia as a whole, and the loyal, warm side of Taako. Warning for mentions of a suicide attempt and suicidal ideation.

leaving, as an injustice by @anistarrose

When Mavis is eight, she starts finding her Dad asleep on the couch in the morning. Sometimes, he’s even all the way out on their tiny patio, with his head slumped onto a pillow atop the chess table, and bags beneath his eyes. In one of their following games, he tells her about tactical retreats.

4.7k, Mavis & Merle A study of Mavis and her relationship to Merle. Incredibly insightful into criminally underrated characters. Excellent Merle characterization.

Permission by vaguenotion

She’d been doing this on and off for the last hour, as if daring the men to catch up to them. Daring them to fight her. Every time seemed like a final stand. Here is where I will meet them, her shoulders said, hiked up around her ears. Here is where I’ll make them pay for what they’ve done. But then Taako would grab her hand, and she would turn and see the bruising on his throat, the blood drying on his brow, the tear in his shirt. And she would grip his hand in hers and together they would keep running.

12.6k, Taako & Lup My favorite depiction of the twins as children, both in character and realistic. Beautifully atmospheric, with so many small details that make the setting feel so real. Warning for assault and harm to children.

Come Hell or High Water by @nillial

“Taako,” Hurley asks, “where’s your magic umbrella?” Taako looks behind him. He had tossed the Umbrastaff in the path of a neighboring vehicle, which was beginning to catch up to them. He sees them now, far in the distance, and he sees his Umbrastaff, too, lying dangerously close to its wheels. As if on cue, he watches the tires crush it to pieces. “Whoops,” he says. - Lup is trapped. And then she isn’t. --- In which Taako breaks his umbrella during the Petals to the Metal race, unknowingly freeing Lup, who is almost immediately captured by Kravitz. After becoming a member of the Raven Queen's retinue with Kravitz as her trainer, she has two missions: 1) find her family, and 2) ruin Kravitz's afterlife. A story about enemies becoming friends and lost families finding their way back to one another.

197k (currently), Lup & Kravitz Incredible characterization. I love the way Lup is written. Hilarious shenanigans, sweet friendship-building, and terribly sad sometimes, because it dives deep into the reality of Lup existing in a world that's forgotten her.

Very cold water on a very hot day by @keplercryptids

Sometimes a family is a nerd who can't swim and the crunchy-haired watersport inventor who teaches him how. Surfer lingo required.

3.1k, Barry & Taako Deep dive into the beach year. Excellently in character, well-written dialogue, and a beautiful depiction of their growing friendship.

Children of Atlas by @papergardener

They’ve survived the apocalypse and now as far as they know, they’re the only ones left. Perhaps it was inevitable that they’d consider… repopulation. Lucretia writes up a weekly schedule to try and address that. Absolutely no one is happy with this.

76k (currently), IPRE crew The premise for this one is incredibly offputting, but I'm so glad I gave it a chance. The characterization and quality of writing is absolutely wonderful. I also love the attention to detail of the realistic difficulty of just surviving. Fantastically atmospheric, this fic dives deep into the uncertainty and fear of the first cycle, when the crew are all strangers, and the love that turns them into a family. Warning for extensive discussion of sexual assault.

Emissary Davenport by DragonWrites

A series of stories where Captain Davenport is secretly an emissary of Garl Glittergold, Gnomish god of pranks. And when you're a serious-minded captain on a mission to save all of reality, having a cheerful trickster god as your unexpected patron can get a little strange...

300k, Davenport A series of four works set in an AU where Davenport is an emissary to the leader of the gnomish pantheon. My absolute favorite depiction of Davenport, ever. The first three works are explorations of Davenport as a character and the relationships between people and gods in a DnD world. The last, Lost Gods, is the best fanfiction I've ever read. I can't express how good it is. The attention to detail among myriad plot threads, the building of themes, the characterization across just about every single character in Balance, all come together to create 223k words of a genuine masterpiece.

[noahschnappinfs]

The guy Noah followed recently gives off Will’s new love interest vibes. I genuinely don’t think Will’s going to end up with this hypothetical character, but it still makes sense for them to show a boy being interested in Will and them interacting a couple of times, with other people around potentially to witness it, like Mike and the party or Jonathan. 

Apparently Noah followed him a couple days ago, and while he does follow Noah back, I don’t know if he did it recently. The only other cast-members he currently follows are Caleb and Jamie.

What makes me think this might be a possibility is that he does have the kind of resume that I think would intrigue the Duffers/Carmen. He had a minor role in The Black Phone alongside Ethan Hawke, which is based in the late 70’s and gives off ST vibes. And just a couple weeks ago he finished filming a horror movie in ATL where he starred alongside the actor who played Elliot in E.T. This movie also appears to be based in the 60’s. So he’s definitely got the calibre to pull off an 80’s look.

I know Noah is random, but this is a little too random to me. This actor is fairly unknown right now? He just so happens to have a resume that would interest the Duffers? Not to mention, he’s 17 so even if he was just playing a random role in s5, it couldn’t be someone Holly or Jon’s age. He’d likely play a character around the age of the party.

Now we just have to give him a name.

i also noticed the follow and had similar thoughts about what his role might be but let me now say why i think that maybe it’s not that. i do think he’s been cast in s5, it makes sense because he’s located in atlanta and his resume fits the show just like you mentioned but i don’t think he’ll be playing will’s love interest.

i don’t know how to explain this but i feel like at this point noah follows people on his main that he’s okay with people checking out, if you get what i mean. we know because of the leakers that will is supposed to have some kind of love interest in s5 but that to me seems like is an important piece of information that says a lot about the plot. i checked and it’s not a recent follow from that guy’s side and the caleb and noah follows are really spaced out, so on his side i think it’s not a hint of anything. i feel like noah would be advised to keep it really under wraps and this follow kind of gives us a hint that he’s working with him so that’s why i think he’s in the cast playing a character that interacts with the party but i’m not really sure if he’ll be will’s love interest, i feel like they would keep it more secretly instead of it just taking us a little trip to imdb to figure it out. so i think he just befriended the actor given that it’s a usual thing he does bc i’ve seen him follow some of the crew that he’s friends with too but maybe the duffers don’t care that much about ig follows giving away parts of the plot and i’m overthinking it, either way i hope you get why i think he’s not specifically will’s love interest, obviously i could be wrong but this is what i see right now.

[bastart13]

I’ve had a lot of fun recently coming with with female mercenary characters for TF2. I really liked where the concept art was going with making them all individual characters rather than simply “if the characters were women”

The design style is fantastic for distinct simplicity so I tried limiting myself to basic colours and shapes to make these

and I’m pretty confident they pass the silhouette test!

Character names/bios under the cut!

Heavy

Name: Marie Jarrett

Age: Mid 30s-40s

Height: 6’5

Nationality: American (Hawai’i)

Bio: Raised in Hawai’i, growing up she developed more and more drastic measures to fend off the tourists swarming her home. Land mines, electric gates, guard dogs, none could stop them for long until she picked up her trusty minigun to send her message. But even still, she hears the click of cameras in the night.

Eventually, she left her home to explore the world. Enthralled with the image of seeing different wonders across different countries, she’s always disappointed. She’s travelled every continent and still finds nothing that lives up to her expectations. No place, no person. She’s outgoing and open to new experiences, only she usually hates them.

Mercenary life is a great opportunity to earn money, see sights, meet new people and kill them after they don’t meet your expectations. She hates New Mexico and takes every opportunity to destroy the buildings and insult her employer’s tastes. She finds some people she tolerates within the mercenaries as she hasn’t yet visited where they live. However much she hides it, she has a deep, instinctual fear of the Engineer.

  Soldier

Name: Linda Smith

Age: Early 40s

Height: 5’10

Nationality: Canadian

Bio: Canada’s perfect woman… or so she claims. The star of war propaganda posters and clearly decided for the role because of her great tactical assets. She’s there to motivate people into the fight. To spread the glory of Canada and inspire her allies. She believes she has higher orders than anyone else she’s working for (ignoring the fact she hasn’t heard from them for a good few years) and is determined to follow them to the letter. She may have lost the letter but she remembers it good enough.

She represents the ideals of Canada: polite, friendly, apologetic, and pacifistic. None of these are contradicted by how she throws around rockets. That’s not what Canada means. She’s superior to everyone around her and graciously educates them on how to improve through example. She loves her French and British allies and will kindly tell the Americans how to be better.

She’s motivating and actually fairly competent, it’s just that competency might be misdirected. She’s damn good at rocket jumping, shooting her shotgun, and supporting her team, it’s just that you really need to get it in her head when she’s meant to be doing it.

Scout

Name: Patricia “Pat” Herald

Age: 50s-60s

Height: 5’4

Nationality: English

Bio: In her years, Patricia has learnt fear… and she’s learnt to laugh in its face. She wakes up at the crack of dawn, ready to leave at the drop of a hat, boots polished and laced the night before. Her years have taught her that with a gun and Jeremy by her side, she can survive!

The postal route of Appleby-in-Westmorland.

She’s been chased by geese, dogs, cows, elderly ladies, and when her postal route had her delivering post during the war, she developed a taste for blood. Nothing will stop her from delivering her post on time. Every day before 6am, every postbox will have their letters and parcels. One chucked across barbed wire, another house jumped over a river, another house miles into the country with dogs on her heels, she WILL get there and she’ll get there FAST.

But after a couple of decades, she needs a change of scenery, and the Gravels wars are just the holiday she’s needed. With her trusty black and white cat by her side (ignoring the yowling and scratches) she reckons it’ll be great time to enjoy herself.

Quotes: “Oh, hello, Human Jeremy.”

“Bloody fucking Ethel! Building her house out in the country… surrounded by bloody hills and rivers!”

Pyro

Name: Nikephoros Papadopoulos

Age: Late 20s

Height: 5’11

Nationality: Greek

Bio: Survival of the fittest. Nature gives and nature taketh away. If you’re not prepared for that, well, Pyro is more than happy to teach you the lesson. They embody the old values of the Greek gods: f*ck or fire. She indulges her every whim and unfortunately for the people around her it often involves arson.

One year for the Olympic games, she was given the noble title of torchbearer. On complete coincidence, the Olympics shifted to primarily water sports. Underwater sprints became the hot new trend!

She’s merry and chatty, never missing the opportunity to talk to other people about herself and her world view. She can’t wait to spread her gospel to help other people improve themselves (though she always gets a laugh out of those who go out screaming in the flames). She can’t help it if she has a sadistic side.

Engineer

Name: Mikawo Kojima

Age: Early 20s

Height: 5’0

Nationality: Japanese

Bio: Japan’s early-rising industrial revolutions in technology are best exemplified in Mikawo, a young upstart determined to rise to the top, learning everything she can and building the best of the best. Unfortunately, she’s never been the most creative but when you happen upon other people’s blueprints and happen to construct them first, what does it matter who came up with the “concept”?

At first, she appears to be every bit the quiet and demure young woman people expect, only when silk hides steel, that steel is a massive automatic sentry gun. She’s motivated by a distinct contempt for the people who get in her way. Especially those who try to be better than her. She enjoys the flexibility of English, especially the cusses, and she has no reservations about swearing up a storm, even if she still refuses to give a straight rejection, preferring instead to give a small “I’ll think about it.”

Quotes: “This GUN is fair use on your head!”

Demo

Name: Qingzhao Zeng

Age: Late 40s

Height: 5’3

Nationality: Chinese

Bio: The Zeng family has a long-standing family trade in demolitions and explosives, traced down the line all the way to the Song dynasty. Luckily, Qingzhao has sisters so, you know, it’s not all that important. She doesn’t even have to stop smoking and drinking. She hasn’t blown herself up (that much) so clearly, it’s working. Precision is for other people to worry about. She’s apathetic to a T, having seen everything. Measurements come from the heart. A pinch of gunpowder there, a splash of paint there.

Her family has a deep-seated rivalry with the DeGroots. Long ago in ancient China, a Zeng matriarch woke up in a cold sweat, a message from the stars to let them know of their Scottish rivals. Due to being a continent away from each other, the families have actually met each other only a handful of times, but the hatred needs to be kept up because, what if?

Turns out, Qingzhao has met Tavish even before finding employment under the Mann brothers. One drunken night, the two of them had a short, whirlwind friendship, sharing secrets and declaring each other to be their best friends. Luckily for them, they both forgot the night, merrily hating each other as tradition dictates. However, headaches and flashes of this terrible night haunt them both. Could they really get over centuries of hate and become friends?

Absolutely not.

Sniper

Name: Ansa Aaltonen

Age: 27

Height: 6’2

Nationality: Finnish

Bio: Snow. Sugar. Cocaine.  Her life is run by many white powders. Ansa is a professional sniper, with a sharp eye and a steady hand… when she isn’t also high as a kite, lost in the snowy wilderness of Finland and screeching to the sky. When you’re up in the dark and cold, you need something to give you a little pep in your step. It just so happens Ansa liked having a bit more pep than most.

She’s there for a THRILL. There’s nothing better to get your heart pumping at 200 beats per second than a good headshot, embracing the chill, and a hit of sugar. She no longer feels the cold or heat or even pain, shrugging it off until she collapses. It just makes her feel alive. She’s efficient, fast, and determined to get her kicks.

She has an unusual taste, living off fermented fish and tree bark. To most people around the Finnish wilderness, she’s nothing more than an urban legend, but she’s very real and she’s looking for some excitement, happily found in employment in the Gravel wars.

Spy

Name: Yvonne Pleshette [Real name N/A]

Age: 30s

Height: 5’8

Nationality: American (California)

Bio: The silver screen calls to his woman and she’s happy to answer. She trains herself to act in every possible role she can, having a wide range of accents, body languages, and backstories. To truly test herself, she gave up her identity long ago. Lately she’s been going by the name “Yvonne.”

The world of Hollywood is cutthroat and full of backstabbers so she learnt to cut throats and stab backs. While some people tell her the terms are metaphorical, nothing else has given her more roles. Living the mercenary life is simply gathering research for her roles (and earning some much-needed money in the process).

She presents herself as a classic film star, despite being a minor name at best, mostly because she’s always changing it. She has high standards but a cheapskate personality. She’s a bit of a bitch, happily criticising others, especially if they’re working with her. What can she say? She’s a diva.

[Slutshames other spy]

Quotes: “Ugh, actors these days, they know nothing about getting into character. They still have names.”

“’AHHHHH—’ Wait, no. Once more from the top. Scream in agony.”

Medic

Name: Susan Monks

Age: 30-40s

Height: 5’7

Nationality: American (New Jersey)

Bio: The American Healthcare system. Is there a more glorious sight? The exploitation of pain. The money. The debt. The fear it strikes into the entire population it’s designed to help. To Susan, there’s nothing better. She squeezes every last drop from the people she helps, working on a purely transactional lifestyle. She’ll never help someone unless she has all of their insurance information and the payment secure in her bank, and god forbid she ever accept help. It’s not like she can afford her own prices.

She’s very self-aware of her own corruption and proud of it, though she refuses to be exploited in the same way, suspicious of anything “free” but also doing her best not to pay for anything.

That said, she doesn’t much care for how good a job she does. In her eyes, asking for surgery is one thing. Asking for successful surgery is another. She has a variety of skills in both cosmetic and military medicine. She just wishes the license board would stop sending her “malpractice” letters. Ugh, stick to your own business. “Disappearing” all their messengers is becoming a pain.

Quotes: “Why get someone else to do something for you when you can scrounge a way to do it yourself?”

[hogwartsmarvelmommy]

dreams H.H

 🌸🏵️ Masterlist 🏵️🌸

Summery: you run into your ex boyfriend after having a reoccurring dream of him, he asks you to catch up and your finally able to let out your feelings about the past.

Warnings: Little angst, some fluff, smut (Oral F receiving, Unprotected sex) {wrap it up folks} Minors DNI

🥀

🥀

🥀

🥀

The first time you had the dream you brushed it off as nothing. He was a distant memory, one that you had no intention of revisiting. But the dream happened more than the one time, it was a frequent occurrence. And it always felt so real. There you were in a car, inside a car wash, his twin brother Sam next to you, talking like no time had passed, and then suddenly you were in a restaurant sat across from Sam, phone in hand and typing out a message to Harry, confessing the feelings you still felt, and then as soon as you saw his face you’d jolt awake. Every. Single. Time. Except tonight, once his face came into view in the little restaurant you could nearly feel yourself melt. Only a couple meters away, and he didn't even notice you.

“Y/N?” Your roommate and best friend said exasperatedly trying to get your attention. 

“Huh? Sorry i uh…” your words trailed off as you glanced back over at where he was sitting, along with Sam. Realizing this was in fact NOT a dream.  

“Is that Sam Holland from secondary?” She asked you, following your gaze to where the two boys sat. a small gasp left her lips as she ducked her head down. “Y/N, is that Harry?” All you could do was nod. Years had passed without seeing the curly haired boy, but the breakup still felt like a fresh wound. 

He had been it, or you really thought he had. But then his brother landed a huge role, and he had to go with him, following along for press tours and things like that, leaving you a small thought in the boy's mind. And then after a few months of that, you received a message. 

Harry: ‘It's better that we just end this.’

You were seemingly crushed, while it seemed Harry was living his best life. You never wished him pain or anything, but you did wish that the breakup itself would have at least bugged him, you had been seeing each other for years practically since you were kids, and then suddenly he just threw you away? It hurt. It hurt like no other. 

You ducked your head down in the booth, to avoid being seen, your food hadn’t even arrived yet, but you were ready to get out of this building. Your phone buzzed and you glanced at it to see a message that made your stomach flop. 

Sam Holland: I see you. 

Your eyes grew wide and your palms seemed to get overly clammy. You peaked over the booth to see his brown eyes looking directly at you. A small smile on his lips, Harry must have seen his brother looking at something cause his head began to turn, but you ducked down hoping he wouldn't notice you, or ask his brother who he was smiling at. Your phone buzzed on the table again and you looked over.

Sam Holland: ‘He knows you're over there. He saw you as soon as we got here.’ 

Y/N: ‘Oh.’ 

Sam Holland: ‘He wants to come over and talk to you, but he doesn't think you want to speak with him’. 

You felt your eyes start to water with just the thought of talking to him. Against your better judgement you peeked over the booth towards them, except this time he was turned around and looking directly at you. You felt your cheeks flush red and your eyes grow wide. He looked perfect, even more so than he used to if that was at all possible. His red curls were more tame than they used to be, and his soft brown eyes were even more inviting than you remembered.  A small smile graced his lips making the birthmark on the corner of his mouth nearly invisible. Were you supposed to smile back? Act like this was a pleasant surprise instead of an anxiety attack waiting to happen? 

You were able to gain a moment of clarity and nod your head slightly and flash a smile before turning back to your roommate whose eyes were directly on you, full of worry. “You okay?” Her words rang in your head. Were you okay? 

“I think i'm alright,” You mumbled, the waiter approached your table with the food you had ordered, and you attempted to forget that the only boy you had ever loved was sitting just a ways away from you. 

You had lost most of the appetite that you had originally had when entering the restaurant, so your food laid on your plate picked at but practically uneaten. Lilly was rambling about something that you had zoned out to. You looked up to see the waiter approaching with a small basket in his hand. Placing it down in front of you on the table. 

“Oh, um we didn't order-” You looked down at the basket realizing it was fried pickles, your favorite. 

“We didn't order that,” Lilly finished for you.

“The two gentlemen over there sent it,” the man said before walking off. You felt your heart flutter. How on earth did he remember these were your favorite after so long? You glanced over to the twins and both seemed to be focusing on their food. You felt a genuine smile creep on your lips as you picked up one of the round golden disks, sticking it in your mouth and enjoying the taste of the dill. 

The rest of dinner seemed to pass by quickly. Lilly picked up the bill as it was her turn, and the two of you got up to leave. You glanced over to the table where the Holland twins had been sitting and felt your face fall once you saw that it was now empty. “Guess he didn't want to say anything too badly,” You mumbled under your breath as you exited the building to the practically empty street. The two of you had walked as it was not a long ways away from your apartment.

You barely made it away from the restaurant building when you heard a familiar voice shouting your name from behind you. 

“Y/N” He yelled as he jogged up to you, his curly hair bouncing up and down with every stride he took. He stopped once he was a few feet away, and bent down to catch his breath. He stood back up and smiled at you, causing wrinkles to appear by his eyes, one of the things you had loved most about him. “Hi.” He glanced behind you seeing lilly standing a few feet behind you “Hi lilly,” He added.

“Harry,” Lilly said.

He looked back at you and smiled a nervous smile, waiting for anything from you. He was sure a ‘Fuck off’ would have been better than the silence you were currently giving him. He was relieved when you finally spoke, your voice sounding as angelic as he remembered. 

“Hi Harry,” It was nearly a whisper, you were surprised you were able to get anything out at all, passed the lump currently lodged in your throat. Harry looked you up and down before his eyebrows lifted and he took his bottom lip between his teeth.

“You, look.. Amazing,” He told you, making your cheeks grow redder than they already were. Sam came into view, walking up besides Harry. 

“Y/N, it's good to see you,” Sam said, stepping forward and grasping you in a hug, it was easy for you to return, Sam had been one of your closest friends, for so long, and after everything with Harry you had been the one to distance yourself, not wanting to cause any awkwardness. “Hi Lilly,” Sam walked over to your roommate after letting go of you, leaving you standing alone in front of Harry. 

“Thank you, You look good yourself,” You told him, his eyes widened, realizing you were willing to talk with him. 

“How,” He cleared his throat “How have you been?” He asked, stepping slightly forward, closer to you. 

“I've been surviving,” You told him, “And you?” 

“Been busy. Lots of projects I've been working on. Feels like I haven't really had much time for myself lately,” He chuckled before letting his guard fall again. “I've uh, I've really missed you,”

Before you could even think you responded “Really?” you could have smacked yourself for that. If someone says they have missed you, especially Harry Robert Holland you don't ask ‘Really’.

“Really, really,” He whispered, taking another step closer to you. 

“I've missed you too,” you whispered. You weren't sure what was happening, you weren't even sure this was real anymore, bringing your fingers to your arm and pinching yourself. You winced at the pain. Not a dream. 

“I'm home for a while, you think maybe we could get together for tea and breakfast one morning?” He asked you. You didn't even have to think about it, of course you wanted to, but you didn't want to seem desperate. So you looked at your phone and then back to Harry, who looked almost as nervous as you felt. 

“Yeah, I'd like that. Just uh, text me, I guess.” the smile that appeared on his face with your acceptance was enough to make you nearly melt. 

“Yeah I'll text you,” He stood there, smiling, contemplating what was appropriate. A hug? A handshake? An awkward nod of the head? He took the chance, stepping closer to the last step and offering his hands out for a hug. You of course moved in, your arms fitting around his shoulders, your face resting against his curls, that smelled of mahogany and teakwood, a familiar smell. His arms wrapped comfortably around your waist, his head going into the crook of your neck. It all felt so familiar, so natural, like you had done it everyday, and years ago you had. It had been years though. The hug lasted probably too long, you could feel his breath on your neck and he could feel your heart nearly leaping out of your chest with every beat. Sam's voice saying their ride had arrived made the two of you break away. You smiled at Harry and nodded slightly before he went to walk away. “I'll text you,” He said for a second time, before sliding into the car. 

You turned back to Lilly who had a knowing look on her face. “What?” You asked her,

“That was some hug,” She told you, nudging your side with her elbow. 

“It was just a hug Lil,” You argued, knowing it was not ‘just a hug’ thankfully she let it go as the two of you walked silently back to your apartment building. Once inside you went directly to your room, hoping to avoid any talk about your run in with the Hollands. 

The next few days were busy, so you don't focus too much on the lack of texts you had received. It's not until you're in between finals a few days later that you see you have a message. 

Harry: Want to get lunch?

Y/N: Busy with finals. Dinner?

You realize after you send the message that dinner is more of a date meal than a catch up meal and you're kicking yourself in the shin for even asking. But your nerves are settled when Harry responds almost instantly. 

Harry: Dinner is perfect. I'll pick you up at 8?

Y/N: I'll send you the address. 

You finished the day and went home to get ready for your night. After a shower you rummaged around your closet finding an outfit that was nice without looking too much like a date night outfit.

With only a few minutes until 8 you were pacing  around your living room. 

“You okay?” Lilly asked you from where she was sitting on the couch. 

“Was this a crazy idea?” You blurted out, panic setting in. Why did you think this was a good idea? What were you doing? Before she could even answer there was a knock on the door, and you rushed over to open it. 

Harry stood in the doorway, in a light blue button up shirt and a pair of dark jeans accompanied by white converse. He looked great, unbelievable, and you were staring. “Sorry,” You mumbled as you walked through the door, shutting it behind you. “Hi,” You said as you turned to look at him. He smiled his wide toothy smile at you.

“Hey, are you ready?” he asked. You nodded and followed him down the hall and out the door towards his car. He opened the passenger side door for you, and you slid in and buckled up before he climbed into the drivers side. You felt strange sitting next to him as he drove down the road. “So, I have to ask,” Harry started. You looked over to him waiting. He was focused on the road in front of the two of you but you could tell he was nervous about whatever was on his mind. 

“Okay,” You said, urging him to continue. 

“Did I hurt you?” The question comes as a surprise. You had not expected him to ask something like that. “We don't need to talk about it if you don't want to, but I feel like I owe you an explanation and an apology,”  You're a bit taken aback, but you are curious to know why.

“Okay,” You say again. 

“Yeah?” He asks, sounding about as surprised as you felt. “Well, um I guess once we left on the press tour, I just got so caught up in it all, the speed, the excitement, the fun, and I forgot about everything else.” He was biting the inside of his cheek. “It was always the goal, you know, to build my way up, and Tom gave me an in and i had to take it, and then once i realized how important it was to me, and to make sure my focus was on it, the filming, the editing,” he parked the car in front of the restaurant and turned to face you. “I knew that i wasn't going to be able to give you the time or the attention you deserved, I didn't want to but i felt like breaking up was something i had to do for the both of us,” You took a deep breath, knowing it was probably time to finally say what had been on your mind, for the last few years. 

“It's better that we just end this,” He looked at you confused for a moment before you continued. “I had no warning, no reasoning, nothing. You sent me that text and then never spoke to me again. You avoided every call, ignored every message, and then you sent Sam to drop off the few things you had that were mine. Putting me in such an awkward position. Did you hurt me? Yes, you did. You threw away years together over a text. Did you not think I would understand? That I would be supportive?” His eyes were wide and he was silent. “All you had to do was tell me what was going on, tell me how important it was, i would have understood, i would have respected your dreams, and i would have waited, if that's what you would have wanted. But instead, I was left feeling like I never meant anything to you, that years and years of friendship and a relationship were all for nothing,” you could tell now that he was seeing you and hearing you. 

“I didn't even.. I didn't..” He stuttered trying to find some sort of reasoning.

“It's ok Harry. It's all in the past,” it wasn't okay, and it wasn't in the past the whole thing resonated with you frequently. Making you question everyone and everything, if Harry, who you were so close to could toss you to the side, everyone else most certainly could as well. And that is the thought that stuck with you over the years, you would never be enough. 

“Y/N, I'm so sorry,” He sounded so genuine, so much like the Harry you knew years prior, he reached over and grabbed your hand taking it in his own. You wanted to forgive him, you could try, but deep down, the type of forgiveness that would require would take work and you weren't sure he was even that interested in your forgiveness. If anything tonight was just for him to clear his conscience.

“Lets go have dinner and catch up,” You smiled at him, trying to push away the tears that had pooled up in your eyes. 

And catch up you did, you spent the majority of the night telling stories back and forth, exchanging jokes and sarcastic comments. It was almost as if you fell back into things so easily, like the last few years had not happened. Harry shared all of the great accomplishments he had achieved and the things he had planned in the near future, and you told him about Uni and how you were set to graduate in less than a month. You hadn't even realized you had been at the restaurant for four hours until you left. 

You noticed a message on your phone once you got into Harry's car. 

Lil: Have a date, don't wait up. Tell me everything in the am xx

You rolled your eyes at your roommate's slutty tendencies, this would be the third time this week, maybe it was the same guy each time? But you highly doubted that, Lilly had made a pact to herself after a heartbreak to never let another guy in, in her eyes they were just take and toss orgasms, and that was what worked for her. You on the other hand were a hopeless romantic, convinced that life was just waiting to bless you with the special someone you'd spend the rest of your life with, someone who you once thought was Harry.

As Harry parked in front of your flat, getting out and rounding the car to open your door for you, you had an idea. Probably your worst one ever. “Do you want to come in for a drink?” Lilly's out for the night,” after the words left your mouth you realized how much it sounded like you were throwing the opportunity of sex on the table, and maybe you were, but in that moment you seriously regretted your ability to speak. 

“A drink sounds nice,” He told you. You nodded and led the way to the inside of your building. You opened your door and held it open for him to enter, you felt odd having him in your place. This was your home, your private, safe place. And to have the man that single handedly wrecked you was odd, to say the least. You opened your fridge pulling out two of the beers that had been left after one of Lilly's impromptu parties. 

“Here you are,” You handed the beverage to Harry who nodded his head in thanks. You cracked yours open and sat there in silence, the only sound in the air was the buzz of the refrigerator. 

“I listened to all of them,” He said, finally breaking the silence.

“I'm sorry?” 

“The voicemails, the texts, I listened and read each one. I could never bring myself to respond because I hated what I did. I never even deleted them, I have them all saved, along with every picture and memory,” he told you as he tapped his fingers on the side of the beer bottle. He turned so he was facing you now, looking directly into your eyes. “I've never, not loved you Y/N,” And you're not sure if it's a feeling that's always been inside of you or if it's due to Harry's sudden admittance to you, but your body grows warm and weak. 

“Prove it,” You whispered to him, a doubt in your mind, because this could not work a second time if it didn't the first. For a second he’s still, eyes focused on you, your breathing, the way you are looking back at him. You're sure he has nothing to prove because there is no way he was being truthful, but then his lips are on yours and you're being pushed against the counter, in what is very simply the most passionate kiss you have ever had. 

Your hands are tangled in his curls and he is grabbing your waist, lifting you till you are sat on the counter, him between your legs, lips never leaving yours. 

Usually this kind of thing would be slow, light kissing and then making out, which could maybe lead to more, but he's Harry and your Y/N.. 

You grabbed the hem of his shirt pulling on it, until he broke away from your lips to tug it over his head, grabbing the hem of yours to do the same. Somehow in the mess of stripping each other in your kitchen you made your way to your bedroom. Harry pushed you onto your bed as he grabbed your legs, spreading them apart before dropping to his knees between them. He kissed your inner thigh making his way towards your center. His warm breath ghosted over your throbbing center as he moved to kiss your other thigh. 

“Harry, please,” You groaned, feeling unbelievably frustrated by him. His lips attached to your clit, sucking lightly and causing your hips to buck up, but Harry had a hold of you so you went nowhere. Slowly he moved his wet muscle up and down and in and out of your slick center, spending the most attention on your throbbing clit. His fingers moved to your inner thigh slowly teasing up it until he was teasing your entrance. All the while you were a moaning mess, fingers tangled in his curls, back arching up with every flick of his tongue, and then he slid his finger in curling it perfectly to hit that one spot. “Oh Harry,” You moaned out loudly. He continued that motion until you clenched around his fingers, a quivering mess, completely undone by him.

“So fucking gorgeous,” He praised as he brought himself back up to you, lips meeting again. You could taste yourself on him, and it just left you wanting more, sure the orgasm was nice, but you wanted him, no you needed him. “Harry,” You whispered between kisses.

“What is it love?” He asked as he moved his kisses down your neck.

“I need you,” You let out, hands wrapping around his biceps and pulling him back to you. He got the hint quickly and pushed himself to his knees, grabbing his aching cock and pumping it a few times before lining it up at your entrance. 

“You sure?” He asked, as he rubbed his tip up to your clit, brushing it gently.

“I'm so sure,” you told him, as he pushed in, he started slowly, not wanting to just bottom out in you, but to cherish the fact that this was actually happening. After an agonizing few seconds your hips sat flesh against each other, you rolled your hips, as the lack of movement was unbearable. 

“So needy darling,” He said as he began to move in and out of you, slowly at first, but soon gaining momentum. He had one hand against the wall and the other holding your thigh as he pounded into your sweet pussy. He pushed your leg up more, and the new angle let him reach deeper inside you, now brushing that sweet spot with every thrust. 

“Oh god,” You moaned out, your hand flying down to touch your clit, searching for your high faster, but Harry caught your wrist just before and did it for you, you felt the tightness building with each thrust of his cock and flick of his finger. 

“Come around me darling, i want you to fall apart for me,” He cooed. And it was enough to send you over the edge with the most mind blowing orgasm you had ever experienced. He continued his movements, them soon getting sloppy as you felt him twitch inside of you a sudden warmness as he stilled. He dropped down beside you, arm nestled around your waist as you both laid there, naked and panting. He was the first to speak. “That was..”

“It was,” You told him, a smile creeping up your lips.

“You're incredible,” He whispered. You felt your eyelids get heavy, as you were laid out in Harry's embrace.  

Maybe life was one big jokester and it was Harry all along. 

Regardless, you would deal with the consequences of tonight's actions tomorrow, for now, you were going to sleep.

[alj4890]

I got an ask we know Riley gets kidnapped by Anton but what if Anton was in love with her and he didn’t wanna kill her but makes her his. What if Olivia killed Claudus for shooting drake.

I love the way you think, Nonny! I actually would have eaten this up with a spoon if that had happened in canon. To be honest, I really liked Justin in book 2. If he had been a new love interest, I would have done a play through just to see what happens if Riley chose him 🤦🏻 Of course then we find out he is behind all the bombings and such so...oops, LOL. When I first saw your request, I made an aesthetic with just Justin/Anton and Riley in mind. I completely forgot to add a definite OTP of mine, Drake and Olivia, to it. Smh. The story though will definitely include them along with Riley and Justin. I am so tempted to turn this into a series 🙊

@gkittylove99 @krsnlove @kingliam2019 @texaskitten30 @yourmajesty09 @mom2000aggie @ofpixelsandscribbles @twinkleallnight @lodberg  @amandablink @neotericthemis  @mm2305 @sfb123 @iufilms

Masterlist

True Intentions

It had happened when he had not been paying attention. It shouldn't have happened at all. He had one goal. One mission. Nothing had ever come to mean more to him than that. Nothing. No one.

Until Riley.

He knew he shouldn't have spent so much time with her. He shouldn't have helped Maxwell in picking the right dresses for her. He shouldn't have stuck around to see her come out of dressing rooms, an excited smile upon her face, as she twirled around for them to give their opinions.

It had taken all his will power to keep from telling her what he truly thought. Riley's beauty was simply stunning, not because of her outer loveliness, but more that he saw her inner beauty shining through each trial she faced. Her strength amazed him. Her wit brought a smile to his face. Her kindness touched his heart.

It made him begin to long for things he shouldn't. They shouldn't be a part of any dream or plan he had.

And yet...she was beginning to crop up in his thoughts. In his dreams.

In his plans.

He winced as he tried to get comfortable.

His plans hadn't exactly gone as he had hoped. In fact, he should have talked to his men and explained that Riley was not to be a target.

Thank God for Drake. If he hadn't jumped in front of her, she would have been taken from me.

His lips twisted in another painful grimace.

"Are you in pain?"

Justin looked up and tried to smile. "Just a little."

His nurse shook her head. "I told you to buzz before it got too bad." She gently checked his wound.

"I don't want to be a bother." He mumbled.

"You aren't." She patted his hand. "You aren't any trouble at all." Her nose wrinkled. "We had a few nobles cause unnecessary problems when the attack happened."

"Really?"

She rolled her eyes. "Some were knocked down during the chaos and demanded they be admitted."

He chuckled softly. "Sounds like something they would do."

"It's a shame that good people like you were seriously hurt while those spoiled nobles try and take all the attention." She readjusted his covers after administering some more pain medication in his IV. "I don't know why King Liam is so hellbent on bringing them back to court."

"What do you mean?" Justin tried to fight the effects of the pain medicine. "What's he doing?"

"He and Lady Riley are going on some type of tour to some of the major houses to personally invite them to their wedding."

His brow furrowed.

A unity tour. That would work on these small minded individuals. It was a smart move. The public were already Team Riam. Once the royal couple convinced the most powerful houses to come to their wedding, all the other minor lords and ladies would follow suit.

"Well played, Liam." Justin's eyes drooped closed. "Well played."

**************

He couldn't believe that they not only convinced Madeleine's entire family, but also somehow got all of Portavira on their side.

"What's the plan?" Claudius asked.

"We need something big to remind everyone that we aren't a one trick pony." Justin told him.

He looked out the window. Leaves were beginning to change with the first hints of autumn in the air.

A hint of a smile appeared as a plan began to form.

"It would be a shame if Cordonia's apple orchard had a bad year, wouldn't it?" He eyed his second in command.

Claudius chuckled. "It really would."

******************

Justin watched as every channel showed the devastation of the orchard near Applewood. He couldn't help but smile over Riley making the people love her even more for her righteous anger. Her promises to bring those responsible to justice along with making the orchard bigger than before made him nearly burst with pride.

She had grown into her role more so than he had ever imagined. Gone was the timid young waitress from New York who uttered no comment when reporters surrounded her. She was a confident woman now who could think on her feet.

Justin thought she was more attractive than the first time he had seen her floundering in front of the cameras, in desperate need of a hero. It hadn't been a bother to rush to her side then and put his arm around her. Her wide eyes had lifted to his and he had nearly melted from her beauty.

He still couldn't believe that she forgave Liam for choosing another over her. Granted Madeleine impressed him with how she could manipulate reporters into spinning a story to her advantage, but Riley was so many things that the cold countess was not. She deserved better than what she got.

And he planned on giving it to her.

*****************

A week after the orchard burning, he turned to see the one rarely far from his thoughts.

"Justin!" Riley rushed over to engulf him in a hug.

"How's my favorite media darling?" He asked.

She leaned back and gave him that smile that was brighter than flash bulbs. "Much better now that I know you're recovering." She playfully glanced about before whispering, "Save me from Madeleine!"

He laughed as he hugged her once more. "I don't know. I've seen her work and can't find fault with it."

Riley pouted. She linked her arm with his as they walked down the hospital hallway. "I prefer your guidance to hers." Her nose wrinkled. "It's weird being told how to act by Liam's former fiancée. I know there wasn't anything between them, but still."

Justin patted her hand. "Tell you what. If Madeleine is unable to do her job or you decide to fire her, then I will gladly step back into my old position." He dug around in his pocket for the earpiece she had used during Liam's engagement tour.

Her smile reappeared. "Old faithful."

"I'm always Just-in-time." He teased.

*****************

It had been too close. He hadn't expected Riley to go anywhere near Constantine. And there she was, by Liam's side, graciously accepting some necklace from the old man who had destroyed her initial happily ever after.

His heart had nearly stopped as he watched rubble fall around them. Riley had frozen in fear over Liam's safety. It was a nightmare come to life as pieces of the wall and ceiling began to collapse.

At least one good thing had come from this: one king was dead.

It sadly wasn't the king he needed to die.

Justin began to plan how he would comfort Riley once Liam was gone. He wouldn't have to tell her it was he, himself, who orchestrated his death. But he would make certain to enjoy the benefits of it.

His eyes narrowed over another slight problem he had.

He was going to have to kill his own wife too.

******************

Lythikos...

It had been almost too easy. Madeleine was already in need of a distraction after hearing Liam gush over how excited he was to marry Riley in a few weeks. Once she requested a fruity cocktail, he knew then that the poison could go undetected taste wise.

The bartender left to go replenish the champagne. Madeleine's irritation over having to wait on a refill was drawing attention.

"Here." He grinned at her. "Allow me to make you another."

Her eyes widened. "Aren't you that press secretary that helped Riley?"

"I am." He began to mix a strong cocktail for her while adding the poison, all right under her nose. "And I must say you are the best I've ever seen."

Madeleine's irritation disappeared over the compliment. "I am, aren't I?"

"Riley's lucky to have someone so knowledgeable in ways of both the court and public like you." He added.

"Yes, she is." Madeleine muttered. "I'll do anything for my country, even if it is a thankless job."

"You should be recognized for your sacrifice." Justin handed her the deadly drink.

"Yes, I should." She took a gulp.

"How is it?" He asked.

"It's the only good thing here." A tipsy grin appeared on her face when she saw Riley. She grasped Justin's hand and pulled him in her wake. "Let's go say, hi."

"Boooooo!" Madeleine giggled when Riley turned around. "It's the ghosts of press secretary past and present."

"The what now?" Riley lips trembled with suppressed laughter as she looked up at Justin for clarification.

"I'm the ghost of press secretary past." He winked at her.

"OoooOooo!" Madeleine swayed where she stood.

"Whoa, there." Riley tried to steady her. "You okay?"

"She's had a little too much." Justin mimed drinking.

"It's a party!" Madeleine slurred. "It's in the worst place ever but it's a party and I'm going to...going to..."

"Enjoy it?" Riley offered.

"Extractly!" Madeleine's brow wrinkled over that not being the right word. "Expactly?"

"Exactly." Justin corrected.

"That."

The crowd quieted around them when Olivia took the stage to offer a final toast of the evening to Liam and Riley's wedding.

"Woo!" Madeleine cheered.

Riley and Justin tried to shush her.

Her giddy smile fell as her rosy cheeks drained of color. "Somefing's not..."

"Madeleine?" Riley lost her grip on her when she swayed violently to the right. "What's--"

Madeleine hit a table, causing the plates to clatter and the vase of blood red roses to fall over.

"I hate this place." She collapsed on the floor.

"Madeleine!" Riley dropped to her knees and tried to bring her to. "Liam! Mara! Come quick!"

Justin stepped back as the two came to see what was wrong. He watched as Olivia made her way through the crowd to find out what the all the fuss was about.

"What's wrong with her?" Riley asked.

"She's been poisoned." Mara whispered.

*******************

Justin loved seeing the delighted surprise once more on Riley's face when he said he would take over Madeleine's duties for the rest of the tour. It would have been a perfect moment if Liam had not been standing there. He was ashamed to think of his nearly giving himself away when he panicked at the sight of Olivia walking in behind him.

He wished Lucretia would quit trying to push Olivia into going into the family vault. She had a sick sense of humor in wanting her niece to discover she was already married. For some reason, she did not approve of the way her niece depended on her friends for support.

Justin knew the power friends could have. Had he not been trained by his own parents' friends, he wouldn't be the worthy man next in line to the throne. His comradery with his own men inspired their loyalty and willingness to die to make him king.

He needed to distance himself from Lucretia the moment they got out of Lythikos.

****************

She was supposed to come alone! Why did she bring Riley? I can't kill her. I need her. I deserve to have a choice in the one I want ruling by my side. The people already adore her, much more so than they admire Olivia. I was supposed to become free of this marriage. Once she and Liam are dead, I'll be able to be king and have--

"Justin?" Riley's eyes were clouded with confusion as she looked first at a picture of him dressed in a royal uniform. "What is this?"

"I'm sorry, Riley." His voice cracked on her name.

Justin reached in his pocket and pulled out a revolver.

Lucretia cackled with glee as she told her niece the truth about her marriage.

Justin stood there silently as the woman he loved shook her head in denial.

She's so incredibly sweet to doubt a friend could be the bad guy. I hate that I can't pull her away from all this and simply explain why I should be the ruler of Cordonia. I deserve it. I worked for it. My entire life was made for me to take the crown. She would be able to understand that. Look how far she's come in her own life. Who could imagine a waitress from some dive bar in America would come to be the next queen of a small European nation?

"Do it already!" Lucretia hissed. "Shoot her!"

He couldn't do it. Even as he held the gun steady, pointed directly at the woman he loved's heart, he couldn't shoot Riley.

"Get away from her!" Liam ordered.

Justin spun around to see the king and guards filling up the narrow passageway.

"I thought you said this was secure." Justin snapped at Lucretia.

"It was." She held her hands up in surrender.

Justin watched as she stepped forward, pretending to stumble.

His eyes widened as once again his love was trapped within a collapsing room.

He managed to see her safely end up in Liam's arms before escaping through a hidden passage.

He left Lucretia to the guards. She had served her purpose and was sadly of no use to him any longer. Now he could plan what he truly wanted to happen.

*******************

Liam and Riley's wedding day...

"I don't care who you kill. Olivia and Riley are to be taken alive." Justin told the small team of men he was sending in. "If you have to wound them to get them here, make certain Riley's is non life threatening.

He ignored the questioning look Claudius sent his way.

"Bring them both to our stronghold." His eyes narrowed. "Do not fail me."

****************

Later that night...

"Good work." Justin straightened his jacket. He wanted to look his best when he saw Riley again.

Claudius smirked at him. "Just think of all the men we would still have if you had let me go alone."

Justin chuckled. "True, but at least we are free of our weakest links." He smoothed his hair back. "Now take me to our guests."

***************

"I know the real Justin is somewhere in there." Riley leaned as far forward as her bindings allowed. "You helped me gain the love of the people. You know that if you kill me, the people will not readily accept you as king."

He couldn't help but smile. "I know and that is why I don't intend to hurt you."

"Then why kidnap us?" Olivia demanded.

He turned toward her. "If I'm to be king, then I have to take the necessary steps to claim the throne." He motioned for Claudius to come in.

"You're the one who shot Drake!" Olivia shouted, struggling against the ropes biting into her tender skin. "You'll regret that."

"And you tried to kill me!" Riley added, narrowing her eyes.

"That was a mistake." Justin quickly said. "You were never to be harmed."

"Then why all the attempts?" She asked. "Why do you persist in--"

"You weren't supposed to be here, Riley." He knelt down in front of her. "You should have stayed in New York until the time was right"

Her eyebrows drew together. "What are you talking about.

Justin asked Claudius to remain with Olivia while he took Riley somewhere private.

"If you think for one second that I will remain with this man while you take her away go do only God knows what," Olivia's chair creaked at her straining to break free, "then you don't know what a Nevarkis is truly made of!"

Justine rolled his eyes over her rant as he untied Riley from her chair. He kept her ankles and wrists bound together. He swept her into his arms and carried her out.

Olivia's shouts were silenced by the sound of a hard slap.

Riley struggled in Justin's arms. "What did he do to her? OLIVIA?!" Tears streamed down her cheeks. "Justin, please don't--"

"Nothing's happened to her." He took her into a surprisingly clean, yet drab, sitting room.

Riley was dropped on a chaise lounge. She eyed the door then Justin.

"I'm not going to hurt you." He repeated. He gently cupped her cheek, fingers brushing along her jaw line. "I love you too much to ever harm you."

Riley stilled. She looked up at him. "You what?"

He knelt before her. "I'm in love with you. It didn't hit me until you told me you had accepted Liam's proposal on the train. I didn't plan it, but I refuse to hide my feelings any longer." He smiled at her. "You've proven yourself as the rightful Queen of Cordonia. Once Liam and Olivia are dead, you and I can rule this country as we see fit. We'll--"

Riley shook her head. "Justin," she believed he was deranged and knew she had to handle this carefully, "I'm flattered. Really I am. I mean, we both know I would never have gotten this far without you."

His smile grew at her realizing she owed him for her meteoric rise within the court.

"But if you kill Liam and Olivia, the people will not feel any love or loyalty for you." She tilted her head as she studied him. "Surely you see the problem with this plan."

"People respect power." He explained. "They respect someone who fights for what is rightfully his. Since my birth, I have been meant for something greater. My parents, Olivia's family, even my soldiers realized that I alone am worthy to rule over this country." He focused once more upon her. "And I've seen that you are the one to do so by my side."

Riley shook her head. "Justin, I am honored," her voice cracked on that lie, "to have your love but I can't accept it." Her eyes filled with tears. "I'm in love with Liam."

"Riley, he didn't choose you." Justin argued. "He left you on your own to fight against nobles, the press, even his own father. You deserve so much more than being an afterthought."

Tears slipped down her cheeks once more. "That wasn't what he did. He was trying to protect me. And I--"

He leaned down and kissed her.

She froze at the touch, refusing to participate.

"Once Liam's gone, you will see the truth." Justin promised.

"I won't." Her eyes narrowed. "As long as I live, I'll hate you with everything within me for taking him from me."

"You don't have it in you." He shook his head in amusement. "You've forgiven everyone. Olivia, Penelope, Madeleine, even Constantine. You never hold a grudge."

"You'll be my first." Riley vowed. "Liam is the love of my life. If you ruin my chance to finally be with him, I will never forgive you. As long as there is breath in my body, I will find a way to destroy you."

"You are amazing." He murmured, knowing she was speaking from her heart. He couldn't wait for that devotion to be for himself.

"Anton?"

The two turned to see Claudius in the doorway. "Liam should be here any moment."

Justin nodded and told him he would meet him and the rest of the men downstairs.

He lifted Riley in his arms and placed her back in the cell with Olivia.

His wife had the bruised imprint of Claudius's hand on her alabaster cheek. Blood had dried on her bottom lip. No tears had fallen from the force of the hit. Her left eye was bloodshot as she glared up at him.

"Liv?" Riley choked out. "Are you--"

"I'm fine." Her harsh answer echoed in the chamber. "It will take more than some two bit thug to hurt me." Her eyes did a quick scan to make certain Riley wasn't hurt.

"If you will excuse me, I have to go prepare for Liam's last night on earth." He retied Riley to her chair.

She threw her head back with all her might to connect with his face.

His glasses broke from the force of her strike. Blood poured out his nose as he stumbled away from her.

"Don't ever," his voice dropped to a hiss, "do that again, my love." He gripped her chin and jerked her face up toward his. "You will learn how to behave soon enough."

He slammed the cell door and left them alone.

"Did he hurt you?" Olivia whispered.

"No." Riley bit her bottom lip. "Not yet."

*****************

"Where is my wife?" Liam demanded.

Justin couldn't help but be impressed. The young king was standing before him, completely outnumbered, yet didn't show the slightest flicker of fear.

He asked the one question that he himself would have asked if Riley was taken from him.

"She is well." Justin replied. "Which is something I can't promise about your own well being."

"I want to see her." Liam bit out. "Now!"

Justin's chuckle was interrupted by a hastily whispered message from Claudius. His head jerked around to search the dim hallway as if doing so would reveal the missing prisoners.

How had they escaped?

"You don't get to make demands here." He snapped at Liam.

"Let Riley and Olivia go." Liam ordered. "And I will take their place." His eyes narrowed. "I know it is a temporary one."

Justin couldn't help but smile. The man was indeed brave to trade his life for Riley and Olivia's.

"No!" Riley screamed out from the stairs.

Chaos broke out as she led the charge to attack the Sons of the Earth. Justin watched as she ran over to protect Liam's back.

The couple were doing their utmost to protect the other from harm.

Their friends were taking his well trained soldiers out one by one. It was embarrassing to see how pitiful his men fought.

Olivia moved into his line of sight. Fury blazed across her delicate features.

"I'm impressed." He told her, unsheathing his sword. "I should have searched you myself."

"Trust me." Olivia circled him. "It will be the last mistake you'll ever make!"

She lunged at him. He easily parried her attack. "I think you've forgotten that it was your parents who gave me the same training you had."

"I think you talk too much!" She twirled about, bringing her daggers up to stop his sword from meeting her shoulder. He grunted from her heel piercing his leg as she pushed off to break his hold.

They continued to try and deliver punishing blows to the other. She was desperate to kill the man who was after her friends and country. He was anxious to be free of their marriage.

He noticed from the corner of his eye Claudius and Drake fighting. His second in command stunned the commoner with an uppercut to his jaw, causing Drake to stumble back into a wall.

Olivia heard the scuffle and followed Justin's line of sight. Her face paled at Claudius moving towards Drake to end him once and for all.

With a flick of her wrists she not only slashed Justin but threw her other dagger at Claudius. It struck true along the side of his neck, cutting into his jugular. He let out a garbled scream as he fell to the floor.

Justin hissed at the deep gash she had made along his ribcage.

Seeing that it was a lost battle, he hopped the banister and began to rush upstairs. He would have to go into hiding once more before orchestrating another attack.

"This ends now!" Riley yelled out at him.

He spun around to see both her and Liam rushing toward him. He raised his sword, determined to put an end to the man who stood between him and the throne. He hesitated when Riley jumped in front of her husband.

"You're not taking him from me!" She raised her battle ax. "Every time you try, I will stop you."

Does Liam know how lucky he is? She waited on him to choose her. Twice! And now she stands here, ready to defend him to the death. How could any man not fall in love with Riley?

His refusal to fight her was his downfall. He was pushed over the banister by the royal couple. While his breath was knocked out, Maxwell and Hana bound his hands together behind his back.

He looked about at his fallen and captured comrades. His attention was drawn toward Olivia and Drake. The pair were covered in blood and bruises, yet they were leaning against each other. Drake had his arm around her while softly speaking. Whatever was said caused Olivia to press even closer to his side. Her arms slipped around his waist. Her eyes were closed tight as she allowed him to hold her.

Justin had suspected something more between the pair. It looked like his coup for the throne had accomplished something for them.

Bastien and the rest of the King's Guards rushed in. After talking to the king and new queen, he collected Justin and hauled him outside.

On the way, Justin met Riley's eyes.

There were so many things he wanted to explain to her. He believed she would have been on board with his plans for the kingdom. Once he had killed Liam and Olivia, he would be the benevolent king the country needed. Gone would be the purpose for pompous nobles. He would have established a council of Cordonia's citizens from all walks of life to advise him. People would be rewarded and honored for their service instead of simply being born to the right parents.

And she would have been his queen, guiding and protecting all she deemed worthy.

"Riley, I..."

"You will never ever hurt those I love again." She hissed.

"Take him away." Liam ordered, keeping his arms locked around his wife. "He will be dealt with in the morning."

Justin knew then that it was pointless to try and explain. She would never give him a chance after all that had occurred.

For the first time in his life, he realized that his intentions didn't matter to the one he loved most.

[mrkcore]

𝐃𝐑𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐄 - 𝐥.𝐦𝐤

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: mark lee x y/n (ft. minor appearances of johnny)

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: college!au, aged down mark

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: mark said forever, even in his songs, but you should have known better. based off of olivia rodrigo’s new single, drivers license.

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: angst, i’m sorry in advance

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠(𝐬): cheating/infidelity, heartbreak  

𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐨: drivers license - olivia rodrigo

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.2k 

𝐚/𝐧: this was finished at 2 am again, so please excuse me if this is incoherent 😌 also, i changed around the order of some lyrics and deleted some sections to fit the story, so it’s not 100% the same. feedback is always welcomed!

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @nakamotocore​, @astroboy-lele, @infnteen (comment here to be added!)

it was always so simple. even though mark was a year older, you guys planned it out. same university, same program, just different years. as simple as that. or so you thought.

i got my driver's license last week 

just like we always talked about 

'cause you were so excited for me 

to finally drive up to your house

but today i drove through the suburbs 

crying 'cause you weren't around 

mark started meeting you less often when he entered college. you didn’t think much of it, people always said the first year of college was the hardest. you just assumed the workload was catching him off-guard and he was too busy.

you didn’t tell him about getting your driver’s license. you wanted to surprise him. and you thought that if he was too busy, you’ll just go and visit him instead. before mark graduated, you guys would always be sneaking out at the crack of dawn in his white volkswagen, driving to the nearest mcdonalds, ordering whatever you craved. no cares or worries in the world. 

“hey, when are you going to get your license anyways?” mark asked you one night. “i’m always the one driving, am i your personal chauffeur or something?”

“hmm, what if you are?” you tease him. mark shoots daggers at you. “i’m kidding, i’m kidding! maybe next year, when i turn 18.”

“i’m excited.” he leaned back into his seat. “you’d be able to visit me whenever.”

“i’d annoy you.” you snort. he chuckles and playfully hits you.

“you know you’d never.” he looks at you, like he really meant it.

but he didn’t. because now, tears flow down your face as you drive home in your car from mark’s university.

and i know we weren't perfect, but i've never felt this way for no one 

and i just can't imagine how you could be so okay now that i'm gone 

guess you didn't mean what you wrote in that song about me 

'cause you said forever, now i drive alone past your street 

mark was always super passionate about songwriting. and when you guys were introduced to each other in guitar club of your freshman year, he finally found a companion to confide his interest in. when you guys snuck out, he would always bring his computer, speakers, and guitar. he’d play you the demos and songs that he had made and would want your opinions on them.

“how does it sound?” he asked you, pressing pause on his computer. it was the last day before the summer of freshman year for you, and he said he wanted to show you ‘something special’.

“yeah it’s pretty good, i think you could do a more complex guitar riff though? it would sound sick if you used E minor and riffed off onto the E major.” you suggested and turned to face mark’s smiling face. “what are you staring at?” you poked him.

“i wrote this about you, you dummy.” he flicked your forehead. “could you not tell?”

“ow, no?” you rubbed to soothe where he flicked you. “its too cheesy, and ‘that sun shining on me, my heart alive and breathing i want only one with you, all the things you make me do for you’? nah, mark lee has a little crush on someone.” you wiggled your eyebrows.

“yeah,” you whipped your head around. “you.” your brain stopped and all you feel is your heartbeat racing. you had never been romantically interested in mark, only friends. but that day changed it all.

“ayo, stop playing the innocent freshman girl.” you huff out. “i have a weak heart.” he taps your chin and turns your face back around.

“dude, i’m not playing.” he gazes into your eyes. “i’m serious, no joke.” your heart starts beating faster, the butterflies in your stomach are wild and your breaths are accentuated by the silence in the car. 

and that’s when he leans in. pressing his soft, watermelon chapstick flavoured lips onto yours. 

you close your eyes and you feel like you’re dreaming. 

“did that prove it?” he says when he pulls away, grinning at you.

“you’re pretty bold making a move on a freshman, bro.” you roll your eyes but your insides feel warm and fuzzy. “and you stole my first kiss!” you exclaim as you push him lightly and he puffs out in disbelief.

“what else do i gotta do to prove to you that i’m for real?” he says, crossing his arms.

“pinky promise me,” you say. “that you won’t leave and you’ll love me forever.” reaching out your pinky. mark laughs, his pinky intertwined with yours.

“now who’s the one who’s cheesy?” he teases. laughing as you angrily attempt to hit him. “i’m joking, i promise, forever.”

you should have known better, promises were made to be broken. but the sticky sweet watermelon flavour stuck on your lips blind you.

and all my friends are tired 

of hearing how much i miss you, but i kinda feel sorry for them 

'cause they'll never know you the way that i do 

yeah, today i drove through the suburbs 

and pictured i was driving home to you 

you know your friends are tired of you rambling about mark. even though they’ve endured it for 3 years already, they don’t see why you’re still talking about him even when he’s gone. you don’t really blame them though. you ditch them to hang out with mark all the time, it was like he was the higher priority than they were, but you were just realizing.

but could they blame you? mark was the definition of dreamy. anyone in your position would understand and agree. all of the fun, secrets, journeys, songs you shared, you felt like nobody knew him like you did. you felt like you were on cloud 9. 

but now is too late, as you realized after mark left that there was no one else that you would, could drive and feel at home with. you feel empty.

and you're probably with that blonde girl 

who always made me doubt 

she's so much older than me 

she's everything i'm insecure about 

yeah, today i drove through the suburbs 

'cause how could i ever love someone else? 

you felt like you had been stabbed in the chest. you stood there frozen, heart aching and numb. 

mark told you the address and room of where he was living before he left. when you arrived, you met johnny, mark’s roommate. he said mark was at the production studio probably and he could walk you to where it was.

when you arrived, you saw the back of mark’s head and the back of the sweater you gave him before he left. and right beside him, a blonde girl. sitting comfortably with her head rested on his shoulder. you stood there shocked. forgetting that johnny was standing beside you, he notices the change in your mood and asks if you were okay.

“oh, yeah i’m fine. i was just checking up on him, his mom wanted me to, haha.” you tried to laugh it off. “he needs to call them back to reassure them he’s not dead yet.” johnny’s laugh echos in your ears as you reassure yourself that they’re just friends. nothing’s going on between them, mark is just a super nice person.

“that’s kim aera by the way. the TA for mark’s producing class. i think she’s in her third year? anyways, mark really enjoys working with her. it’s like he lives in the studio, he’s always asking her for suggestions and other stuff.” johnny explains. you tense up, you were the only person that mark had wanted to ask suggestions from. pause, you were. not anymore. but it makes sense, she’s the TA, she obviously had more knowledge and experience in the studio. and she’s more, accessible… “what’s the deal between you two though? mark never mentions anything to me, what’s your name?” johnny snaps you out of your daze. 

“oh, uh, i’m y/n, mark’s family friend.” you try to cover up the nervousness and cracking in your voice. “yeah. our parents are close, so her mom can count on me to report on him. haha.” you laugh lightly. “i’m going to get going now, mark is obviously intact, so that’s good. i’ll catch you around.”

“oh cool. see you.” johnny waves, and you walk out the door.

you try to convince yourself that there’s nothing going on between mark and this aera, but reassurance won’t make the truth disappear. 

you come back a few weeks later. you thought that after finals, he might be more free, and you guys could finally hang out for once. you thought that after hanging out again, everything would go back to normal. he’d go back to texting you, showing you new songs, and maybe hanging out more often as well.

“oh hey y/n, you’re back?” johnny answers the door once again. “he’s at the studio right now, do you need me to walk you there?”

“i think i’m good, i remember where it is. sorry for disrupting you. bye.” you smiled, and after johnny waves back and closes the door, you walk towards the studio.

you think of many different scenarios of how this will play out, but this isn’t what you expected. 

you walk into the studio, about to call mark’s name, but you see the blonde locks again. 

“thanks for helping me out with the lyrics, you’re really good with words.” mark says, smiling. “i think you’re a great role model.” 

you feel a little jab at your side. lyricism was never your strong suit. you could write beautiful melodies and harmonies, but the words never seem to come out.

your heart stops. right when their lips lock. with the way her arms are pulling mark in by his nape, you can tell that she’s more experienced. you felt like you had been stabbed in the chest. you stood there frozen, heart aching and numb. you bolt out the door, you feel suffocated. you really were naive. if this is what heartbreak feels like, you don’t think that falling in love is worth it anymore.

you don’t look back. that’s the last time you ever see mark again. 

apparently johnny asked mark about you.

“hey mark,” johnny calls out. “how was your meeting with your family friend y/n yesterday?” 

mark stops dead in his tracks and his heart sinks. you came to see him? how come he didn’t see you? how did johnny know your name? and, why were you his family friend?

“oh uh, yeah it went well, thanks for telling me anyways.” mark escapes to his room.

mk.l

hey

did you come to see me?

you

no

why?

mk.l

oh, nevermind then.

johnny probably got the name wrong.

red lights, stop signs 

i still see your face in the white cars, front yards 

can't drive past the places we used to go to 

'cause i still fucking love you, babe 

sidewalks we crossed i still hear your voice in the traffic

we're laughing over all the noise 

god, i'm so blue, know we're through 

but i still fucking love you, babe 

the world was quieter and stopped spinning. that feeling of being on top of the world all the time stopped too. you stopped going on your phone, you stopped socializing with people in general to be honest. you didn’t know how to face anyone. everywhere you went, everything you did, reminded you of mark. mark’s laugh, mark’s random nose scrunches, mark’s favourite songs, mark’s guitar, mark’s self-written melodies. you can’t go to mcdonalds, you can’t watch the sunset inside your car at the parking lot behind your local church, you couldn’t even pick up your guitar anymore. your melodies and harmonies didn’t come as smoothly anymore. you felt sick, you didn’t want to do music. it’s just not the same anymore. you didn’t feel like you had a purpose. 

but you slowly got back up. music became your way of coping. listening to other people’s songs about heartbreak, you felt like you weren’t alone. your first heartbreak, no one there to teach you about it, and no one there to comfort you. so you did it yourself. you had no musical purpose, but now, your music was for you, your own personal expression. all the harmonies, melodies, colours, came back to you. and unexpectedly out of the blue, the words came to you too. 

i know we weren't perfect, but i've never felt this way for no one 

and i just can't imagine how you could be so okay now that i'm gone 

'cause you didn't mean what you wrote in that song about me 

'cause you said forever, now i drive alone past your street 

yeah, you said forever, now i drive alone past your street

the backing instrumentals fade out and the emotion in your voice trickles into the darkness of mark’s room as he closes his laptop. 

you found your words. he thinks, smiling sadly. finally.

©mrkcore, 2021.

[taramikealson]

Just a sort of canon-ish Drabble that I got a little carried away with.

Set after the events in TVD excluding the “Hell” storyline in Season 8, the miracle babies, Caroline dating Alaric, Marcel taking the serum, and a few minor changes that are hopefully recognizable.

He could feel the irritation crawl along his skin like a serpent slithering itself up and around a tree. With the irritation, came anger.

Sometimes he enjoyed the challenge that came with others riffling with his plans. He has theories as to why he does but deep down he knows the true reason. His wolf. The thrill and excitement that came with the thought of the hunt. Predators such as wolves are born hunters who thrive on such games.

But, he is not only a wolf. No, he is a strategist- a remarkable one at that. There had been no plan, no despicable machination of his that hasn’t had a fail-safe.

Except for this one.

He had gotten himself into a situation where he finally became comfortable again after nearly ten centuries of running. And when he got comfortable, he began to lose his edge.

After successfully re-stabilizing the Quarter and allowing his brother to take a leading role in the peace treaty between the factions, New Orleans fell quiet. Of course, every so often there’d be a dispute between a couple of the factions that rose a concern within his elder brother, but that was always unavoidable. Werewolves, witches, and vampires alike have fought for centuries, that type of violence and warfare doesn’t automatically stop with a peace treaty. His brother may hope for that positive outcome but Klaus had always been a realist. And, unfortunately as he predicted, the peace was temporary.

“Niklaus, this is not a situation that we should ignore.” His brother’s voice sounded through the phone that he had pressed against his right ear.

No, this isn’t something we should ignore. He thinks, tentatively keeping his lips pressed together to keep himself from speaking of something that perhaps his brother shouldn’t know.

“Should Marcel make a regretful move, this treaty we’ve formed could very well be null and void.”

If Marcel were to make a move, it may start a gruesome war between the vampires and werewolves. If Klaus knew Marcel well enough, his former right-hand man is most likely planning something rather ill-conceived. He hasn’t theorized whether the harsh consequences will weigh the heaviest on either the vampires or werewolves, or even the whole Quarter all together. No matter what they may be, he’s most certain his brother won’t be quite pleased with what he has planned.

Although Klaus once held a tight hold over the vampires, it came to his attention that Marcel continued to be respected amongst both the day and nightwalker community. Thus, why in the time of tension, they clamber to him in search of a leader to choose the decisions that will benefit them. Which is why Klaus has chosen to keep the werewolves as an ally. The werewolves have proven to be loyal to Hayley and his daughter because they both are seen as part of the pack, which unnerves Klaus but gives him the relief that those wolves will protect his daughter. The connection that Hayley holds with those werewolves is bound to be manipulated, might as well be him to do so in a beneficial way. For both the stability of New Orleans and the safety of his daughter.

“Brother, do you understand me?”

His shoes crunch against the small layer of gravel underneath his feet.

“Yes.” Klaus tries his best to keep the irritation out of his voice but his answer still sounds short.

The hybrid immediately ends the call, noting that the conversion was to be continued in person. While pocketing his phone, he takes a few steps further along the rooftop and then steps up onto the ledge, giving him a grand view of the Quarter from a few buildings away.

A rough shuffle and a few voices could be heard from a little farther down the alley below him, but he didn’t much care about the happenings within the alley. From what he could hear, there were two men speaking in hushed tones, their heartbeats slower and more quiet indicating their undead nature. The fast and erratic heartbeat that was a few paces in front of them was a clear indication to Klaus of what the vampires below were planning to do.

His lips turned up slightly. He, himself, was feeling a bit peckish, perhaps he’ll grab a quick bite before he returns home to his disapproving older brother.

The vampires eventually closed the woman in, murmuring to her about where she was going and why she was out at such a time. He found it interesting that she stayed quiet. Ninety-nine percent of the time, the women would say something whether it be a plea to let them go or an angry curse.

Wanting to stay out of the house- more like away from his brother- for as long as he can, he turned his head to look down the alleyway. If this ends to be unentertaining, he’ll most likely grab a drink at Rousseau’s.

There, he could see both the vampires crowd into the blonde woman’s space. She has her back pushed up against the rough brick.

“I don’t think it’s very safe for a lady like yourself to be out here.” The vampire states before his eyes transform and fangs replace his blunt teeth. Usually, this is when the victims begin to scream or mutter that modern saying, oh my, God. But the woman doesn’t seem as scared as a normal human would be.

“You’re making a mistake.” She murmurs and Klaus’ eyes widen a hair, recognizing the voice. But before he can think of anything else, the woman is thrusting a wooden stake into the vampire’s stomach.

The vampire doubles over and the other vampire goes to attack the human but he’s no match for Klaus’ speed. Without a second thought, Klaus appears before the vampire, shoving him back before he could get to the woman. The other vampire has now pulled the stake from his torso and was looking to kill but Klaus turned toward him.

“Enough.”

The vampire pauses but scowls at him, a look of disgust and anger apparent in his eyes. His hand rises and points to the human. “She stabbed me! She’s a tourist! Tourists are fair game-,”

“And you would be in the right if it weren’t for her being under my protection.”

The vampire looks a little surprised at Klaus’ declaration and is about to protest once more but Klaus beats him to it.

“Now, I suggest you scamper off to Marcel before I’m tempted to rid you both of your hands.”

Both vampires share a glance and Klaus continues to stand his ground confidently. Eventually, the vampires figure out that it’s probably best for them to avoid any conflict with an Original, the Original Hybrid no less. Thus, they both give the human one last threatening look before flashing away into the night.

With the vampires disappearance, Klaus had began to turn around and quip something sarcastic but his whole expression changes when Caroline’s knees give out. His hands come out at vampiric speed as he catches her by her upper arms and kneels down as he slowly lowers with her.

It’s then that he sees her clearly. Her hair isn’t as perfect as she normally used to keep it, almost like she hasn’t had access to the proper equipment. Her clothes were a little wrinkled and two small dark red dots bled through her white shirt indicating that a bandaged wound was leaking. Concern now flooded through him as his eyes connected with her face. It was as beautiful as ever but there was a deep exhaustion and a line of stress etched into her forehead. Oh how his heart now aches. He thinks that he hasn’t felt as worried for someone as he is with Hope, but yet here he is, holding her just enough so she doesn’t slump over.

He now realizes that she hadn’t just lost most of her strength, but had been keeping herself from showing any weakness towards those vampires. If he wasn’t so concerned with her health, he’d be praising her for her stubborn strength.

“Caroline, look at me, love.” He aides her by tilting her head up gently by her chin. Her eyes are tired and look so vulnerable.

She looks as if she’s about to say something but Klaus shakes his head. “Conserve your strength. You’re alright, I’ve got you.” If those words were spoken to anyone else, they’d have a right mind to be worried but she seemed to feel relieved. He takes that as permission to pick her up, holding her from underneath her legs and shoulders.

His thoughts of what his brother will think of him are completely wiped away when he races to his home. It’s quiet but he knows his brother is lurking somewhere. He’s not quite concerned about Freya, Rebekah, and Hayley’s absences. Ever since the incident between the werewolves and vampires, Hayley has taken it upon herself to help with the remaining pack. Freya is most likely working on another miracle to save this city’s peace and it’s no surprise that Rebekah is with Marcel.

Klaus contemplates taking Caroline to a guest bedroom but the closest one to his is farther than he’d like so he figures that taking her to his bedroom won’t be the worst idea. At least he’d be able to keep a close eye on her for the time being.

He sets her down gently to the dark grey covers and takes a sharp turn into the bathroom. Klaus comes back out a few moments later with a wet washcloth and a couple different sizes of bandages. Caroline shifts a little and grazes her hand against the side of her torso where the wound was which seems to instantly sober her up. She lets out a small gasp and grimaces in pain. Her hand hovers over it as if it’d take the pain away. Klaus walks back over to her and sits on the edge of the bed, a few inches separating himself from her.

Extending his hand, his eyes travel up to her face seeking silently for any sign of rejection before pulling the edge of her shirt up to reveal a blood-soaked bandage. His hands slowly peel away the bandage and Klaus didn’t know what to expect but he hadn’t expect something quite as brutal as this. No, this was not a wound from an accident, this was intentional and by someone who was trying to harm Caroline. In fact, he was quite knowledgeable about this particular wound, or had been when he was human. By the sharp angles of the shape of the wound, he could tell it had been an arrow tip that pierced her skin. When he was human, Kol had been recklessly playing with his father’s bow and accidentally shot Finn in the shoulder. He had kept that arrow shaped scar for as long as he could remember. But just because Finn had survived, it only made Klaus more concerned.

By the tear of the wound, it seems to have been reopened due to stress. Although, he imagines that it’s good news that it’s not infected. Klaus is as gentle as he possibly can be when he pays the wet washcloth along her wound. She bites her lip hard and grasps his arm in a painful grip but he allows her to do so, hoping that if a fraction of his pain can dull hers, then so be it.

After a few moments, she slowly takes her hand away and he begins to clean around the wound.

“Klaus-,”

“Don’t.” He begins, “not now.”

His words come out a tad harsher than intended but she knows he’s just concerned and doesn’t know how to healthily deal with it like a normal human.

“I need you to listen just for once.”

“Caroline, let yourself rest before we speak of anything.”

She appreciated the notion that he valued her safety and well-being more than an explanation of why she showed up in his city as a human. But this couldn’t wait, for her safety and his own.

To truly get his attention, she places her hand on top of the one that was still cleaning the blood off her skin. It pauses its movements and he looks up to her.

“I- I didn’t want to do this. I didn’t want to use you for your contacts but I didn’t have anywhere else to go.” She hesitates to continue because after she asks, his involvement becomes concrete. Because she knows that he’ll help her. “I need a witch, someone powerful. Someone who can do a cloaking spell that can’t be broken by another witch.”

His face doesn’t express as much emotion as she thought it would but she doesn’t think that it’s a bad thing. He obviously seems to be contemplating something as his eyes bore into hers.

Setting aside the washcloth, he straightens out and takes a sleek black phone out of his jacket pocket. Without hesitation, he clicks a few times on the screen and places the phone against his ear.

“Freya, I need you at the Compound immediately.” With that, he puts his phone away and reaches for a bandage. Taking the plastic off, he softly places it over her wound, pressing along the outside, securing it to her skin without causing her pain.

His eyes refocus onto hers and she spots the anger that has now manifested within those blue orbs. “Who did this?” He asks and Caroline Knew she should have known better than to think the wound wouldn’t show any foul play.

“Silas.” Klaus’ lips part in confusion. For all he knows, Silas had been put in a safe and thrown down the quarry. God, things got complicated since he’d left. Much more complicated than she would have liked.

“For a while he pretended to be Stefan. We didn’t know because we thought he could only mess with a couple people’s perspectives but turns out he’s a doppelgänger.” She mentally cringes when remembering how Silas continuously terrorized her and her friends. She also remembers how Silas had made everyone think he was dead when Stefan killed him but had used it as an out to chalk up another plan that revolved solely around revenge. Against her.

Caroline begins to pull herself up into a sitting position so she’s resting against the headboard and is thankful when Klaus helps her. “Before you came back, we thought Stefan killed Silas but he’d used some last resort spell and it gave him the perfect out to recollect himself.”

“I guess he waited for a few years for things to settle down and for us to be off our guard.Damon was as happy as he could be considering Elena, Bonnie was back, and Stefan and I were getting back on good terms. Silas approached me on the last day of my Senior year.” Klaus notices as she bites her lip and looks down at her hands that have begun to twiddle in slight nervousness. “Silas made me think we were making some kind of deal. I leave my friends behind and never go back to Mystic Falls, or he kills me and everyone I care about. I chose to leave.”

Swallowing, her eyes darted from her hands to Klaus’ face to gauge what he might have been thinking but he wasn’t showing any sign other than that he was just listening to her, allowing her to pour whatever worries she had onto him.

“I don’t know if he thought that I would just settle down in some other place to get the opportunity to know my whereabouts while he tried to kill my friends but he called negotiations off when I skipped the third town I went to. So, he went after me.” When the single tear fell from her eye, she was a little surprised at how vulnerable she was allowing herself to be. “I told everyone that I was taking off for a little bit to go travel since I had finished college. I didn’t want them to try to find me and end up as one of Silas’ next victims.”

She pauses and wipes the stray tear away, trying to recollect herself. She must look like hell, crying would only make it worse. Caroline needed to man-up. There was no doubt that what Klaus had gone through with his father, or step-father, was worse.

Klaus leans forward and takes her hand into his, letting him drop a feather-light kiss along her knuckles. “You are safe. If I ever promise you anything, I will certainly promise you that.”

Caroline can’t help the small smile that forms on her face, knowing that he is being truly genuine. His lips turn up as well.

A small knock on the door interrupts them and Klaus rises from the bed. A taller dirty blonde woman stands in the doorway, analyzing both of them. Klaus crosses the room and pulls the woman further into the hallway, speaking to her in a hushed tone.

After a moment of back and forth conversation, they both advance into the room. Klaus pauses for a minute, watching as the woman approaches the side of the bed. She offers Caroline a reassuring smile that tells her she’s most likely a friend of Klaus’ or at least someone in his good graces.

“Caroline, right? I’m the older and wiser Mikealson sibling, Freya.” Caroline blinks for a moment and looks to Klaus in confusion. Although, she assumes what the woman, Freya, is saying must be somewhat true because all Klaus does is slightly roll his eyes in such a brotherly manner before turning towards the liquor tray.

“Niklaus tells me you need a little bit of a complex cloaking spell.” Caroline nods. Being that Freya must be a Mikealson, it is always safe to walk on eggshells around the ones she’s not very familiar with, no doubt the ones that she never knew about.

Freya turns towards the hybrid who was sipping his drink. “Will you fetch my grimoire and my herb bowl from the study, brother?” Klaus doesn’t seem all too eager to be ordered around but he does as asked and walks out of the room. Freya turns back towards Caroline and motions to the space when Klaus had sat before.

“May I?”

Caroline gives her a short nod and Freya smiles.

“Why are you being so nice to me? I thought all Mikealsons were kinda bordering on the ‘I don’t help anyone but my family’ ideology.” Caroline was going to be more subtle about it but she’s injured and doesn’t feel well, might as well rip off the band-aid.

Funnily enough, Freya laughs. “I’d agree with you but I’m quite aware of who you are.”

Now, that was surprising. Did Klaus say anything about her to his siblings? It didn’t seem like something he’d do. Her mouth opened to say something but she couldn’t find her words. It seems like Freya had an idea of what she was thinking and thought to correct her.

“I saw you when I entered my brother’s mind. If it weren’t under life and death circumstances I wouldn’t have done so. Trust me, I’ve already heard a mouthful from Niklaus.”

That made Caroline even a bit more nervous. Did this woman know everything about her and Klaus then? Had she watched some of their interactions? “How much do you know?” She asks.

“Just enough to know how important you are to my brother.”

That’s not cryptic at all. Caroline isn’t sure if that means Freya knows a little too much than she should or not but she imagines that she can’t push the woman any further than she’s willing so she shuts her mouth. And she also really doubts that Klaus is out of earshot, he can probably hear almost anything from the other side of the house so it’s best not to speak out of turn. Or maybe just not too much about him.

Speak of the devil, because he then walks through the door not even a few moments afterwards, carrying a grimoire and a small bowl with a few items in it that looked close to medical supplies.

He comes up behind his sister and sets her grimoire down on the bed and intentionally hands her the bowl, making her notice the extra supplies within. A sterile needle with surgical string and a couple other medical supplies. As he hands the bowl over to her, he murmurs, “perhaps you should also take a look at her wound, sister.”

By the look in his eye, she could tell he was a bit more concerned about the girl’s physical wound than the cloaking spell being down. Then again, both siblings knew that with all of the magic surrounding the Compound, it would take a highly skilled witch at least a couple hours to work through a location spell for anyone who was there.

Freya nods and takes the bowl from him. Klaus steps back and takes a seat directly across the room from the bed in one of the leather chairs, still allowing Caroline to see him.

The witch silently asks for permission to have a closer look at Caroline’s wound before pulling the new bandage away. Caroline watches Freya’s eyebrows furrow as she inspects the wound. Freya’s eyes look back up to her.

“Have you had this looked at before?”

Caroline shakes her head lightly. “But I tried to keep it closed.” Her lips turn up into a ghost of a smile. “You only learn so much in high school and college level health classes.” Freya understands the lightheartedness within the statement and offers her a smile.

“Well, it seems like you at least kept it clean.” Freya begins. “But I’ll need to stitch it up a little and possibly do a proper cleaning just in case. It’ll probably be easy to put you to sleep for that.”

Caroline’s eyebrows furrow at the lack of a surgical syringe. “Like a witchy anesthesia?”

Freya seems to enjoy her lack of magical knowledge and find amusement in it. “Something along those lines.”

“You’ve done it before, right?”

The witch lets out a small laugh. “Yes, but I can certainly do a demonstration.” Her head turns over her shoulder towards her younger brother but Klaus seems unimpressed.

It was a little reassuring seeing him naturally take up his brotherly role. She hadn’t ever really seen that side of him and never saw him actually interact with his siblings before. It was nice to know that even the Original Hybrid could act like a typical brother once in a great while.

“I promise it’s safe and when you wake, your wound will be patched right up.” Freya reassures and Caroline nods. She knows that Klaus will go just about as far as he possibly can to keep her safe which tells her that Freya is trustworthy. So, she doesn’t think about it too long before she murmurs, “okay.”

———————————————-

Upon breaking the fog of sleep, she doesn’t feel as weak as she had before Freya had put her to sleep which was a good sign. She begins to lift her head off the pillow and suddenly feels a warm hand help her sit up.

Looking over, she sees Klaus hovering beside her. “Easy, love. No need to tear your new sutures.”

His words remind her and she looks down, pulling her shirt up and the bandage aside to see her wound stitched up neatly with a strange light paste spread on top.

“My sister assured me that her little remedy,” he nods towards the paste on her wound, “should have healed you just enough to allow you to shower, if you wish to do so.”

The thought of a steaming hot shower is so appealing to her right now. “God, yes.” She sighs. It’s been so long since she’d been in any type of shower that wasn’t in a hotel or had some sort of modern day technology.

It seems Klaus enjoys her enthusiasm and takes it as a good sign for her health. “Would you like me to fetch my sister to help you?”

Caroline shakes her head. “No, it’s okay. I’m okay.” She silently thinks that should anything happen, he’ll most likely be listening in on her. It was a little creepy to think about but also made her feel a tad safer knowing that he’d always make sure she was safe.

He respects her choice and helps her stand. Waiting a moment to make sure she gets her bearings, he keeps a hand on the small of her back and leads her towards the entrance of the bathroom. She silently thanks him before he closes the door to a crack after her.

Looking around the bathroom, she’s not surprised about how lavish it is and how neat it’s kept. She never really took Klaus as the person who kept his personal space in disarray. As clean as it was, it still held the feeling of being used daily. One of the medicine cabinets was left cracked open a little, a small tin and classic shaving knife was left on top of a white cloth, and a bottle of cologne sat on the counter. If Caroline had possibly thought of a bathroom Klaus would ever call his, this is probably as close to it as she’d get.

Caroline decides that if she takes too long, Klaus may think something is wrong so she strips quickly and turns the water on. She’s pleased when it takes a whole couple seconds for the water to warm. Stepping into the shower, she sighs at how good it feels. The water runs down her, rinsing away all of the dirt and grime from the past couple days.

After getting her hair wet, she reads the minimalist labels on the three bottles that sat on the shower shelf. Thank God they weren’t the typical soaps that guys used nowadays. She shivers at the thought of two-in-one products. These were just simply packaged products that were obviously a little more on the manlier side of things but it’ll have to do.

Rubbing the shampoo and conditioner in her curls, she almost felt a weight lift off of her. Once she finished up basking in the warmth of the shower, she turned the dial off and stepped out. Grabbing the white towel, she wraps it around herself and tries to dry up as much as she can.

Upon walking back over to the bathroom counter she notices that she can’t exactly wear her old clothes but she does choose to wear her bra and underwear again. Hopefully she can ask Klaus to rile her up something for her to wear.

When she exits the bathroom, she immediately notices that the French doors that had led to the balcony outside were now closed with the drapes shut and the sliding door to the bedroom was almost shut all the way. She could hear a little movement in the next room over and assumed it was Klaus.

Stepping further into the bedroom, she sees that she doesn’t even need to ask Klaus for clothes because there’s a pair of yoga pants and t-shirt folded neatly on the bed. It was also accompanied with a hairbrush. Her heart warms at the thoughtfulness but then again, Klaus had always put thought behind a lot of things that involved her.

She’s quick to take the precious privacy that he allowed her and got dressed.

He finally emerged when she was finishing up brushing her hair. He held a plate of food and a glass of water. Caroline places the hairbrush down and into the drawer of the nightstand before scooting herself further back on the bed to give him enough space. Klaus sits down on the edge of the bed and places the glass of water on the nightstand, then handing Caroline the plate. At the sight of the scrambled eggs, bacon, and assortment of fruit on the plate, she was almost worried her stomach would growl. She doesn’t even remember when she last had a proper meal.

“Thank you.” She murmurs when he hands her a clean fork.

His smile is genuine and tells her that he doesn’t find helping her to be a chore. When he watches her carefully as she began to eat, she knew that if he’d done so a few years back she’d find it extremely creepy, but now she’s come to find out that it’s his way of communicating his reassurance. He’s silently telling her that he’s here, he’s going to protect her.

“I’ll leave you to eat. Perhaps get a few more hours of sleep, it’s only a quarter after six.” He states as he rises from the bed. His eyes drift for a moment down to her torso where her wound is covered by her shirt. Something in his eyes changes and he leans down close to her head. She pauses as his lips softly connect with her forehead. He pulls back a little and looks deep into her eyes.

“So long as I have a say in the matter, Silas will never get close enough to touch you again.” He then rises to his full length and exits the room.

——————————————

After eating and getting a couple more hours of sleep she’d ventured out of Klaus bedroom to find him again. When she did he was insistent about getting her at least a week’s worth of clothing for herself. She didn’t make a second objection, knowing that either way Klaus will get her clothing, it was just a matter of if she’d pick it out or have some compelled vampire do it. Thus he’d taken her to a few local shops. In typical guy fashion, Klaus hadn’t been too animated about watching her pick clothing out. In most of the stores, they’d parted ways- her towards anything that caught her eye and him to any empty seat he could find.

Caroline tried to be as time efficient as possible knowing that even a man who has waited a thousand years to break his curse, he still had his limits of patience. As much as she thought he dreaded chaperoning her, because he refused to have a possibility of another vampire thinking they could harm her, he still offered her considerate smiles. There were a few instances where she could feel the heat of his gaze as she walked out of the dressing room. She didn’t know what to make of it and brushed it aside.

This is hopefully the first and last time Caroline thinks this, but she is thankful that Klaus has the ability to compel vampires. He had a vampire, she forgot her name, retrieved Caroline’s brand new clothes and took them to the Compound so they could continue to stroll down a few of the streets.

If Caroline hadn’t spent the last couple years skipping from city to city, she thinks she may have been a little more amazed at the New Orleans architecture. But still, it was truly stunning. She liked that Klaus didn’t directly guide her but just allowed her to wander. Soon, they’d found themselves in a bar. The bartender that approached them seemed very familiar with Klaus and when he’d introduced her to Camille, the woman was welcoming.

It didn’t escape her notice how Camille had laid eyes on Klaus for a few seconds too long before walking off to let her and Klaus enjoy their drinks.

Caroline smiles a little at the situation. “You know, she likes you.”

His lips turn up and he sips his whiskey.

“You may not be aware of this, Caroline, but you are on the exceedingly short list of women who have rejected me.” His head turns towards her with a smug smirk. “You should feel lucky, most of those women are dead.”

Caroline rolls her eyes lightheartedly. “So lucky.” She breathes and looks away from him. His chuckle is rich and deep, making her crack a small smile.

“Quite a number of women find me charming, you surely had at one time.”

The statement brings out an instinct in her to say something snarky or quip something a little harsh but she chooses not to. Instead, her teeth catch her bottom lip as she lowers her gaze to the vodka soda. She doesn’t exactly know what to do. All she’s ever done with him was constantly impolitely reject him with statements about who he killed or what bad things he’s done.

Her eyes go up to see the bartender come out from the kitchen in the back. The girl gives them a small glance and Caroline offers her a friendly smile. Camille seems a little surprised by Caroline’s friendliness, almost as if she was expected to be ignored or brushed off. Caroline has no doubt that the crowd that Klaus would spend time with would be most certainly supernatural, thus their lack of interest in simple human servers. Although, Klaus seemed a little keen of her. Truthfully, she didn’t know what to think about it. If it was a few years ago, she would have rather drowned before admitting that she was a tad jealous when it came to Klaus, but she was older and more mature. So, yeah. Maybe she felt a little jealous that the girl’s feelings towards Klaus could be mutual. But she also wasn’t going to be spiteful of it.

Stirring the small straw that floated in her untouched drink, she murmurs, “If you want to go talk to her, there’s nothing stopping you.” Her voice is as neutral as she can make it.

Even now without her vampire senses, she could still feel his fiery gaze in the side of her head. He lets out a low chuckle.

“Camille is a close friend of my family. She’s sacrificed quite a bit to aid my family’s survival and I’ve repaid her loyalty with protection.” He begins. “Our relationship may have developed into somewhat of a complicated friendship since she’s known me, but that is simply it.”

Caroline turns her head towards him and his eyes are as clear blue as ever. “But by no means do I wish to be in anyone else’s company other than yours.”

There’s a brief moment between them where both of their solid barriers were dissolved and their eyes just simply met. They said nothing but their eyes communicated plenty. But, that moment was only brief.

The bell over the door to the bar chimes when it opens, the noise from the street could be heard for a moment before the door closes again. Both Klaus and Caroline are shaken out of their moment when a voice chimes.

“Now, this is interesting.”

Caroline is a little taken aback even though she should have expected to come across another Original. Hell, she wouldn’t doubt that the whole Mikealson clan was crawling around New Orleans at this point. It seemed to be almost like a hub for them.

Klaus is the first to turn in his seat and greet his sister. “Sister, a bit of a surprise to see you on this side of the river. Has Marcel finally bored you enough?” His tone has dramatically changed from the genuine one before to something more smartass-y.

When Caroline scoots on her stool a little to look more properly at the female Original, she notices how annoyed Rebekah gets because of Klaus’ comment.

“No, I came to visit my niece. Whom, in which, has noticed your lack of presence.” Rebekah then gives Caroline a disapproving glare. “But I think I know why.”

Klaus sighs quietly and Rebekah is about to say something but pauses. Her eyes scan Caroline carefully. After a moment, her eyes widen and she flashes towards Caroline, aggressively yelling, “who the bloody hell gave you the cure!?”

Caroline stumbles out of her stool as fast as she can and takes a few steps back. Rebekah is about to get into her face again but Klaus zips in front of her, blocking her way to Caroline.

“I-,” Caroline doesn’t know what to say or how to even start to calm down the Original. She’s not as strong as she once was. One little neck snap and she’ll be done.

“Rebekah.” Klaus growls in warning, earning a glare from his sister before her gaze goes back to the blonde.

“Why do you get the choice? You, of all people?”

Caroline is beyond grateful that no one else was in the bar because she’s sure that there could have been a bloodbath if there were.

Klaus is about to say something but Rebekah beats him to it.

“How is it that you get to have a normal life?”

Those words seemed to trigger something in Caroline. Something emotional.

“You think I want this? Do you think I chose to have a normal life where I’d meet some regular guy, marry him, have a few kids, and work for the rest of my life?” Rebekah frowns and Klaus turns his head just enough to look at her. “I didn’t. I don’t want that life and I didn’t choose to become human again. So, blame me all you want for being a bitch to you or whatever, but don’t blame me because you didn’t get the human life you’ve always wanted.”

It seems like Caroline’s words have an effect on Rebekah because she shrugs her brother’s hand away from her and takes a step back. Caroline can’t exactly know for sure but she thinks that maybe Rebekah can somewhat relate to her. Rebekah had always wanted to be human but was stuck as a vampire. Now, Caroline wants to be a vampire but is stuck as a human.

When Rebekah takes that step back and Klaus is sure she’s not going to try to attack Caroline again, he fully turns his body towards the blonde human. She can’t gauge exactly what he’s thinking but it could have been a cross between surprise and sympathy.

The younger Original looks almost a little guilty when she casts a glance towards Caroline but instead doesn’t say anything before flashing away. As the light breeze wafts over them from Rebekah’s exit, Klaus takes a step forward towards her.

“Caroline.”

She shakes her head. “I-,” her eyes shut for a moment. “Please don’t make me talk about it.”

She fully expects Klaus to struggle with her request but he quickly proves her wrong and gives her a short nod in understanding.

————————

Caroline’s fingers drum silently against the cold metal of the railing she’s stood behind. The city has now been cascaded in darkness but people still mull about on the street beneath her. The very idea of the liveliness of this city brings a smile to her face. The neon lights of shops and street lamps were now lit up to shine down on the passerbyers below, their drunken ramblings slightly muffled due to her human hearing.

She finds that Klaus was right. There was something about this city that not only attracted the party-seeking humans, but also the darker creatures who lurked in the shadows. She may not be a vampire any longer but that doesn’t mean the connection she holds with the darkness was shaken. There is not just history in this city, it is the home of the supernatural. Caroline bets that if she were still a vampire, she could have spotted a couple dozen supernaturals that had walked by in the past thirty minutes she's been up on Klaus’ balcony.

She only hopes it doesn’t attract a different kind of supernatural.

Out of the corner of her eye, she can sense movement just as a figure joins her. Their hand grasps the railing casually and when they sigh, a white cloud escapes their lips from the continuing dropping temperature of the night. He doesn’t attempt to make a move to slide closer to her and she appreciates the space he’s giving her, along with the time of silence.

As they stood in silence, listening to the noises of the city before them, she could recall how nervous she used to get during long periods of silence. She had always tried to fill them up with mindless chatter or something to that nature. But now? She finds that she sort of enjoys it. His presence may be a little nerve-wracking at times of tension but, as of late, Caroline seems to feel at ease knowing he’s just right there- not totally offering her comfort but the reassurance of his presence.

“You’re cold.” His voice murmurs smoothly through the air. It’s only then that she notices the goosebumps that trek along her arms. The light breeze flows around them once more, reminding Caroline that she doesn’t have as much tolerance to the weather as she once had when she was a vampire.

Her eyes lifted towards him to watch as he slid the casual high-collared blazer off just to then gently place it over her shoulders. Caroline’s arms cross and grasp the sides of the coat, pulling it closer to her body before offering him a smile in thanks. Although his eyes seemed to be light, there was a hint of concern to be seen.

“Caroline, what aren’t you telling me?”

The words surprise her, not because he’s asking them, but because he’s asking them now. She should have felt lucky that he hadn’t asked her earlier or even within the first ten minutes she was in New Orleans.

A lot. She thinks.

When she doesn’t speak, he sighs and shifts closer to her.

“You should be aware that I will do everything in my power to keep you safe, but I can’t very well do it if I don’t know any of the details.” He pauses for a moment before continuing. “I understand that these past few years haven’t been as undemanding as you’ve hoped, but you need to tell me something- anything- so that I can help you.”

Caroline contemplates just shrugging it off and telling him there’s nothing to talk about but that would be a lie. A big lie. She came to him for help, slept in his bed, and ate his food. It would have been foolish of her to think that she could take full advantage of his protection and not have to give him a detailed explanation. But, she doesn’t know exactly how to start and how to proceed. There are specifics that he doesn’t want him to know about, but if she were to leave them out, she’s sure that he is intelligent enough to put a few pieces together, or at least tell that she’s leaving a few key details out. She had two options. Either she tells the truth or she omits, telling him that she doesn’t have the courage to give him an explanation. The last option would be the easier route, but one that would most likely drive a wedge between them, thus possibly compromising their safety.

If she were younger, she would have grappled for a third option. But she was older and more mature now. Even though the prospect of what Klaus may think of her afterwards held a sizable weight over her head, she knew that she couldn’t avoid telling Klaus the truth.

“Silas isn’t just chasing me because I helped in the plan to kill him.” She breathes.

Klaus’ eyes blink in surprise, as if he’s shocked that she’s actually opening up to him. But he allows her to continue.

“When you came back to Mystic Falls, I didn’t tell you the whole truth about what happened with Silas. When Stefan lured Silas outside, I was left alone on the far side of the boarding house. Someone had grabbed me and I acted on instinct because I knew Damon, Elena, and Qetsiyah were in the parlor, so I assumed it was Silas.” Caroline looks away from the Original and out towards the night sky. “It turned out to be Amara.” Her eyes slowly drifted back over to him to gauge his reaction. He stood still, eyes just taking her in and processing the information that she was offering him.

“Silas’ one true love.” Her eyes hold guilt and a sadness within them as she remembers the events that occurred nearly five years ago. “She was innocent and I killed her.”

A stray tear begins to form in her eye and bubbles over, making a thin wet trail down her cheek. Klaus’ hand doesn’t move as fast as it normally does when he gently wipes the tear from her face, making sure not to make any moves that she wouldn’t be able to reject. The heat of his palm against her jaw and the pressure it holds gives her an odd sense of comfort that she wouldn’t have expected.

“I don’t know how he found out after he faked his death, but he-,” she begins to struggle to speak, the emotions beginning to take advantage of her. “He approached me in my dorm one day and I’m not sure if he planned it or not, but Tyler happened to walk in.”

Caroline lets out a small exhale to try to keep her emotions slightly underwraps but she can’t help the couple tears that escape her eyes. Turning her head away, she feels a shade of guilt run through her. “He- he killed Tyler right in front of me.” She also tried to explain how after Silas left her with his ultimatum, she had to find a place to bury Tyler and come up with a story for his absence, but she thinks she would have totally broken down if she spoke another word. It didn’t take much longer than a couple seconds before his arms had brought her closer to him and she didn’t shy away from pushing her head into his shoulder and wrapping her arms around his torso.

The heat radiating off of him almost felt like it began to wrap around her, comforting her in her grief. Klaus kept one arm around her back and another in the hair on the back of her head. His head craned down and he gently pressed his lips to her temple. He doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t have to. She feels the most safe she has ever felt in the past two years in his arms. The sandalwood cologne fills her lungs when her nose digs deeply into his shirt, surely ruining it with her tears but she's not too worried about that right now.

After a few long moments of being wrapped up in his body, he halts the slow brushing of her hair that she had just noticed he was doing. Klaus’ head pulls away to get a better look at her and she tilts her head up to do the same.

“Come. Let’s get you inside.”

Caroline nods and lets Klaus guide her back into his bedroom. He shuts the French doors behind him and closes the cream drapes, the sounds of the city now greatly muffled by the extra barrier. Caroline walks over to the bed. Once she’s sat down, Klaus is already over by the fireplace and starting the fire. She tries to catch her breath. Although she wasn’t sobbing, she still finds it hard to regain herself. A crackle comes from the fireplace and when Klaus stands from his crouched position, she can see the small flames of the fire begin to lick at the wood inside. In no time, Klaus is right there, taking the coat from her shoulders and silently encouraging her to lay down on the bed. She pulls the soft covers over herself as Klaus’ eyes rove over her.

“Will you stay?” The words escape her lips before she can understand what she had said.

Klaus studies her for a moment but his attention is pulled towards the sliding doors that are cracked open just enough for him to see his brother. His brother’s presence now reminds him of the factions meeting they were supposed to attend tonight in light of the recent events between the witches, werewolves, and vampires, but Caroline is in a sensitive emotional position. Although he finds it surprising for her to feel comforted by him, he doesn’t feel as inadequate for the job as he would with anyone else. He decides then what he will do. New Orleans can wait. If anything, his brother is more than equipped with handling tonight’s meeting without him.

His head turns back towards Caroline. The deep blue of his eyes already indicate his answer to her and she slides to the other side of the bed to give him room. Klaus toes off his boots and just before he lays down, his eyes glance up to see the sliding door closing all the way and his brother’s footsteps retreating away.

When he’s settled onto his back, Caroline quickly tucks into his side. The move isn’t unexpected with her trying to seek a source of comfort. He slowly pulls his arm out from under her and instead wraps it around her body, placing his hand just above her hip as she buries herself into his ribcage.

Klaus lays there for a while, listening to the changes in her heart beat and studying the way it slows when she falls asleep. He only allows himself to shut his eyes when he hears his brother return an hour later, feeling more comfortable being asleep when at least one other Original is awake. He won’t take any chances with Caroline. He won’t risk losing her.

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

When Caroline wakes up that next morning, she isn’t shocked that she’s alone and the place where he had once been was vacant of his body heat. She never assumed Klaus to be the type of man to sleep in by any means being as paranoid as he usually was but it had seemed like he’d been gone for quite a while. As much as she wants to think that maybe he had some weird bout of inspiration to paint or do whatever artistic thing he prided himself with, she has the better judgement to know it was business related.

From what she could tell, he and his brother were the main one’s calling the shots in the French Quarter. Not unexpected, considering Klaus is, well, Klaus. But he has subtly mentioned from time to time whilst they were out yesterday that there was some tension between a few of the supernatural factions. Caroline imagines that it's more of a regular occurrence and something that comes with ‘ruling’ (Klaus’ words, not her’s) over the supernatural community within New Orleans. Thus, it doesn’t take a genius to understand Klaus must have a decent amount of business to conduct most of the time. She wouldn’t be all too surprised if he was out handing threats out like flyers first thing in the morning.

The mere idea that Klaus has probably been awake for at least a couple hours now prompted her to get motivated for the day. Although she didn’t directly have any plans other than possibly not getting her throat ripped out by Rebekah, she still needed to eat.

It didn’t take her long to get dressed and make her way out of Klaus’ bedroom. But when she made it to the hallway outside of Klaus’ study, she was a little torn on what she should do next. Klaus hadn’t exactly shown her around the Compound so she really only knows the way in and out of the Compound from his living quarters.

There were a few doors on each side of the hallway. She chose the route she was more familiar with and decided to start there. Fearing that she might be interfering in his family’s privacy, she only ventured into the rooms that were already open. She first found a parlor room with dark red couches and a small wet bar, next she found a very extensive library where she read a few of the titles of the books. Some were familiar and some were totally unknown to her, but she imagined that she wouldn’t know any books that were written in other languages like the French one she decided to flip open. After finding a few first editions, she thought it best to move on and keep her human, clumsy hands away from books that could be worth more than a couple thousand dollars. When exiting the library and finding the courtyard, she climbed down the stairs and got lucky when she found the kitchen.

Walking over to the fridge, she crosses her fingers that she doesn’t just see blood bags. Upon opening the fridge, she’s satisfied to find a tray of eggs, milk carton, a drawer dedicated to fruits and vegetables, a couple bottles of water, some condiments in the door slots, and a couple other assorted food items that were relatively healthy. She would do just about anything right now to satisfy her sweet tooth that she woke up with but she’s also grateful that the Mikealson’s even have food in general, so she’ll take what she can get. So, Caroline takes the grape jelly out of the door slot and then goes to search for bread. Surely if they had food in the fridge, they had to have some non-refrigerated items too, right?

Looking through a couple of the cabinets, she mentally notes which cabinet held the plates, glassware, coffee grounds, and such. She finally finds the bread and limits herself to two slices. She may be hungry but she’s also human.

Grabbing a plate and spotting the toaster conveniently placed on the counter next to the coffee machine, she places the slices of bread inside.

In that moment, she thinks of the simple weekday mornings just before school. Those so easy and simple times where she had convinced herself could be the worst for her. How wrong she was. Now, she misses those mornings where all she had to worry about was boys and if she was going to pass that week’s pop quiz. In fact, she can even say she misses the times where the worst that could happen was an unexpected visit from a particularly moody Original hybrid in which had a 50/50 percent chance of ending with a pair of toxic hybrid teeth in someone’s throat.

Now, Caroline realizes that Klaus must have either grown to enjoy watching her and her friend’s failed attempts to end his life or preferred to use ‘kid-gloves’ because if he were to kill any of her friends, he knew better than to think she’d ever forgive him. Either way, she feels somewhat lucky in an odd way that he hadn’t reacted as badly as she now knew he could have. Unlike Klaus, Silas had no attraction or reason to extend any amount of mercy towards her, which was extremely terrifying. Silas may be mortal now but he is also a very powerful witch. One that was able to keep up with her when she was still a vampire.

The ding of the toaster brings her out of her reverie. Caroline reaches into the toaster to carefully pull the slice of bread out. The front of her finger grazes the hot metal inside and she pulls it out as quickly as she can on instinct. “Damnit!” She whispers heatedly, knowing there were other vampires within the house. In the process of taking a step back as the pain still sizzles underneath her skin, she could see something in her peripheral vision. Turning her head quickly, she yelps.

“Shit!” She curses, jumping slightly in her own skin when she finds an unexpected figure in the entranceway of the kitchen.

A smirk graces his features and a deep chuckle escapes his lips.

“God, you can’t do that. I can’t exactly sense when you’re creepily stalking me anymore.”

He doesn’t respond but she thinks he gets the point. Klaus walks over to her and easily deposits both slices of toast onto the plate she had out. Fishing out a butter knife from one of the drawers and opening the lid to the jam.

“I’d like to take you somewhere.” His eyes glance over to her as she watches him spread the jam over the slices of toast before placing the used knife into the stainless steel sink. He then slides the plate closer to her and walks back over to the fridge to put the jar of jam away.

Caroline takes the plate and takes a couple steps over to the island counter where a couple stools sat. She sits and takes a bite out of her toast. “Now?”

“As soon as you are ready.” He then grins at her, clearly hiding something from her. “Although, I recommend you wear something you don’t mind getting dirty.”

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

They’ve been in the car maybe five minutes before Caroline began to question him on where he was taking her.

“Seriously?”

His eyebrow rises and he glances towards her with lighthearted eyes that tell her he was certainly enjoying her irritation. Caroline just resorts to glaring at him but it doesn't hold nearly the same weight that it had a few years ago when she’d glare at him then and he clearly knows it. Klaus’ eyes return to the road and Caroline sighs, settling further into the leather seat of his luxury SUV.

“If you can’t tell me where we’re going, can you at least tell me something?” She asks, thinking that maybe he would want to play the ‘hint game.’

A sly smirk puts the edge of his lips up. Instead of giving into her, he decides to veer off into a different topic altogether.

“Do you recall the period of time when Alaric helped train the doppelganger in the ridiculous hope that it would somehow keep her safe from my siblings and myself?”

Caroline is a little taken aback by his question. Obviously, she remembers. Elena had once tried to get her to join her and Alaric. What surprised her about it though was that he even knew about it in the first place because Elena had thought they’d kept it all ‘hush hush’ specifically so he wouldn’t find out. Although, Caroline now thinks that he would most likely know from pulling the information out of Tyler or having a hybrid tail them once in a while. Both scenarios are equally as realistic.

The Land Rover slows and turns down a dirt path that is cascaded with tall trees. Clearly, he was taking her somewhere in the countryside.

“Yeah, but I don’t see how that’s relevant unless you plan to drag me out into the middle of the woods and kill me.” She turns her head to look at him. “Because I will put up one hell of a fight.”

His chuckle is low but not in a dark way. The blue in his eyes gets a little brighter when he parks the car at the edge of a large clearing. There’s a few fallen logs and if Caroline squints just enough, she can make out the shape of a couple makeshift tents a couple hundred yards away. She feels the Original turn towards her after shutting the car off and she looks his way.

“Trust me, sweetheart, if I were to make you my victim, I wouldn’t need to take you to the Bayou.” The tone in his voice is as casual as if he were talking about dinner plans and the smile he dotes is edging on the side of diabolical.

She raises a brow and turns away from him as she opens the passenger side door. “Because that makes me feel reassured.” Caroline knows his lips tug higher up into his cheeks, enjoying her slight sarcasm and their back-and-forth banter. Sometimes she thinks he likes making her angry, she can’t really think of a reason why, but he seems to always draw that emotion out of her at times when he doesn’t really have to.

Upon getting out, she notices he rounds the back of the car and opens the tailgate. Klaus pulls two objects out and closes the tailgate before meeting her a few paces away from the black vehicle. Her eyes widen a hair and her eyebrows rise dramatically when she sees what he took out for the back of his SUV.

He holds two long medieval looking swords, one in each hand. Stepping up to her, he readjusts his grip on one of the swords and holds it by the blade, offering it to her by the leather wrapped handle. She physically hesitates, clearly confused about what his end goal was.

Klaus seems amused by her reaction and tips his head to the side.

“Go on, it won’t bite you.”

Her eyes shift from the sword in his hands and his eyes. Slowly, she grasps the handle of the sword and Klaus lets go. Caroline struggles for a moment, the sword being heavier than she had anticipated. Not knowing what to do with it, she lets the end of it sit on the ground.

On the other hand, Klaus holds his sword by the handle and holds it out diagonally in the air.

“Strike it.” He orders.

Caroline does nothing except look at him strangely before rolling her eyes. “Seriously? You brought me out here for your own amusement? Newsflash, I’m not exactly some minion you can drag out to weird places and play ‘swords’ with.”

Klaus sighs and lowers the sword down, expertly thrusting the point into the grassy ground.

“This is no game, love. As much as I’d like to be showing you my city, I have a vested interest in your safety and to keep you protected. From what I have come to realize within the past years in residing in New Orleans, I can’t be in multiple places at once. Thus, why we are here.” His empty hand motions along as he speaks and his eyes glance around the clearing at it’s mention. “I’d like to be able to say that I will be by your side at all times, but that would simply be false. Which is why I think it is pertinent and rather of astronomically great import that you have some ability to defend yourself.”

Caroline glances down at the sword in his hand. “With a sword?” She asks with a stifled laugh, almost amused by the thought of using a sword in an actual realistic fight.

“No, but it gives you a starting place and the ability to learn how to use spare objects as weapons.”

Klaus then raises the sword again and nods. “Now, strike it.”

[alltheselights]

Doesn't that mean Larry isn't a thing though?

First, let me note that this is something Harry and everyone around him has been saying in not so many words since November 2019, and if you were in doubt then, the music video could not have been more obvious about the intent of the song, or at least the marketing.

But to answer your question, no, it doesn’t. I feel like one of the main reasons why Harry's comments from last night would make you freak out or question your beliefs about Harry and Louis or double down in your denial about what the song is intended to be is if you've defined your existence as a Larrie around this idea that Harry is 100% a gay man who could never in a million years be attracted to a woman. And unfortunately, I think a lot of people have done that.

I feel like there has always been this very strict belief that 1) Harry hates his womanizer and fantasy boyfriend roles, that 2) he has despised and been unconvincing in every PR relationship and stunt he’s ever had, and that 3) he is not attracted to women and could never be attracted to women. And I used to fully believe all of these things too, but I feel like with time and perspective, I don’t necessarily anymore.

I think that Harry's womanizer image while in One Direction went several steps too far to the point where he and the other boys were uncomfortable with it, but there were moments where Harry had fun with it. One example is when they were doing that interview in Australia with Liam and Louis and Harry went over to snatch the woman's phone number. Eventually, however, I think it reached a level where he was disgusted and frustrated by it because it came to define him and made him seem like a bad person, which is not accurate, and at that point, he was not interested in playing along with the image they assigned him. I also think it was started at such a young age when he had no power to consent to it truly, and that was never going to be acceptable in any way.

Now that Harry has gone solo, I believe that he has significantly more control than he ever did then. He could have gone in many different directions and he has definitely embraced a more open, ambiguous image, but I think it's hard for people to admit that he's also embraced a new role as a fantasy boyfriend. It's not the same as before, as he's able to be more ambiguous about his sexuality and with his clothing, but he markets his music as being about women, he publicly dates only women, and he takes actions to appeal to the female gaze. I often see people talk about how Harry isn't trying to appeal to women because he doesn't fully embrace a stereotypically masculine look, but as I've seen discussed more and more often lately, those stereotypically masculine looks actually appeal more to the male gaze. This article talks about that. Many men think women are attracted to intimidating, uber macho men, but a lot of women are actually often attracted to men like Harry who are in touch with their feminine side. When Harry is shirtless and sweaty in a music video but also not afraid to wear feminine clothing or to talk about his feelings, that DOES appeal to women. They do find that sexy and attractive, and Harry and his team know that and they play to it when they can.

This role isn’t the only one that Harry embraces now that he's solo, but it is something that he and his team have chosen to do. After so many years of us defending Harry against a womanizer image that took things way too far at a young age while Harry was still figuring himself out, that can be a tough pill to swallow. However, we have to realize that both things can exist in the same universe. Harry can have been uncomfortable with where the womanizer image that he was given at age 16 when he had little power to change it and also choose to embrace a kind of fantasy boyfriend role now that he's a solo artist, older, more comfortable with his sexuality, and able to make decisions for himself. He can take control of a narrative that previously harmed him and use it to benefit him and to sell more music, more merch, and more tickets.

When Harry stunts with women, even when he's very convincing (like with Kendall on the yacht when she was laying on top of him and kissing him, or with Olivia on the yacht recently where they were dancing and kissing), you see people claim that it's a "gay yacht" or that he seems miserable even when he doesn't. Do I believe both are absolutely PR relationships and not genuine? Yes. Do I believe that Harry acted convincingly as someone interested in women in both instances? Yes. I think part of the reason why yachtgate with Kendall was so upsetting to me at the time because even though I never believed it was genuine, it LOOKED genuine, and I’d never thought Harry could pull that off. I think part of the reason why the Olivia yacht stuff didn’t bother me at all is because at this point, I do believe Harry can convincingly appear to be interested in women, even if he’s also interested in men, and so when he did, I was fine with it and didn’t feel threatened by it. It’s the same thing with Harry’s acting in DWD where a lot of Larries tried to claim he was unconvincing after seeing a two second clip of him making out with a woman. I thought he looked fine, as did most of the random people who watched that clip, and it did not threaten my beliefs about Harry because I recognize that he can be convincing in heterosexual roles and it doesn’t impact whether he likes men or not or whether he’s in a relationship with Louis or not.

Now don’t get me wrong - I don’t think he’s convincing in every instance, not even in every instance with Olivia or Kendall, but I’m just saying that I think he can play the role with them when he wants to. I don’t think he appeared uncomfortable in either instance. And I think when you admit that and acknowledge it, it’s easier to be a fan because you’re not living in denial and trying to act like Harry is DISGUSTED by these women and could never in a million years convince anyone he’s attracted to them, or attracted to women in general.

I don’t know if Harry is attracted to women, but based on his behavior and the types of things he writes in recent years, I do believe that it’s a possibility. I know I’m in the minority on that, just as I am with most of my beliefs, but even if people don’t agree with me, I feel like it’s really important that people realize that your existence as a Larrie should not be so rooted in Harry only liking men that your theories are all threatened or you’re enraged by a comment about a song being about female orgasms when they’ve been clear about that since day one. Harry can like women and still like men. Harry can like women and still be with Louis. Harry can write a sexual song about women and still like men. Harry can write a sexual song about women with numerous co-writers and still be with Louis. These things are not mutually exclusive, and when you treat them like they are, that’s when the denial starts and that’s when people start getting angry and upset with Harry over something that is not a big deal.

[queen-ofsunflowers]

Monsters and Magic Line-Up

This is just my way of outlining the... installments in the series. I don’t summarize what happens, but it’s more so my thoughts on them so far and what I want to do with them. Also title reveals.

...I have no idea what I’m doing.

Dreaming in Daylight: Persona 1/Revalations. I definitely need to put this out some time before I release Persona 5/Strikers, mostly due to the fact that Naoya has a role in both. It’s fairly minor in Persona 5, and he makes a minor guest appearance since… ya know, he is Ren’s father in this universe. He plays a major role in Strikers, though. Need to redownload the emulator I had for PSP, though so I can play through it. It seems so much easier to do that then to look up a walkthough, which I have done for a couple of these to make things easier on my life. I’m also going to be taking elements from the manga for this one.

The Past That Binds Us: Persona 2: Innocent Sin. If we’re being honest, I already have the first scene for it typed out. I forget why, I think I was just trying to get the dialogue and its choices I needed when I had the emulator. Anyway, I really do love P2′s story, so it would be a shame if I skipped it.

From the Other Side: Persona 2: Eternal Punishment. The same as the previous one. It’s angsty, and I’ll have fun with that. It also serves as an explanation as to why everything is kind of the way it is going forward without actually explaining it. Maybe. I dunno. We’ll see how things go. It might also be combined with Innocent Sin depending on the length of both.

Make Every Moment Last: Persona 3, and the one that’s currently ongoing. I started out with Persona 3, despite the fact that it’s in the middle of the series but it’s one that I know people are extremely familiar with, so it’s more likely to draw in the reader’s eyes and build a fanbase for the series. It also gave me the chance to work on and write out the P3 cast, which I struggled to do in the beginning. I think I’ve gotten better since then.

Lives on the Line; Winner Takes All: The Answer. Make Every Moment Last is long enough at seventy chapters, but the events that take place during The Answer are important at explaining why what the hell happens at the end of Make Every Moment Last ya know… happens. This is gonna explain why that happens and wrap up some loose ends. It also goes a bit in depth with some backstory events that I bring up in the previous installment.

Free to Just Be Me: Persona 4, with some Golden events and elements. It has to do primarily with how I deal with the TV World and such. TBH, the TV World probably is the only one that underwent a massive change to fit in with the supernatural world because I found a way to do it in a way that makes sense and didn’t fuck up with the plot. If I decide to go with ships for this (outside of the canon ones at least), it’s going to be done in such a slow burn that they won’t even confess or get together in the fic itself, but a later installment instead.

Shadows of Fate: Persona Q. Mostly just a filler fic, TBH. And includes most of my own gameplay since I got to the ninth floor of the clocktower before my computer killed itself. It also has a bit of foreshadowing towards the end considering the next installment/spin-off. It’s just gonna be a fun bit of writing that will help me establish what relationships will be like for Arena, as well as a bit foreshadowing for that installment towards the end. I also plan to incorporate scenes from both routes, so it’s not defined who is the main lead here. Kids deserve to be dumbass kids, and this lets me do that. That, and it’s already been hinted at happening in Make Every Moment Last.

The Hollow Hour Tournament: Area/Ultimax. They were short enough, so I decided to combine the two together. That, and Arena didn’t feel complete on its own. It’ll be a chance for me to lore-dump a little bit more concerning the Anti-Shadow Weapons and some minor stuff that got glossed over in Make Every Moment Last If I decide to do the slow burn ship for P4, then it will finally have it’s payoff here.

Tied Together by Truth: Dancing All Night. Not entirely sure if I’m going to do this one, TBH. If I do, it’ll be entirely self-indulgent since I love the story that goes along with this. There’s also a little nifty detail I wanna do with those who use magic and how it effects dance moves. It’s mostly visual though. That, and Yu’s parents. I enjoy Shin and Tomiko’s dynamics. I also adore Kanami. She’s gonna be human, though. Maybe. Or not know what she is. It’s still up in the air.

Break Away From Limitations: Persona 5 Royal. Yes, I’m going the Royal Route on this. I love Sumire too much not to. I’m excited for this one for a lot of reasons, one of them being that the Awakening scenes are just the cast snapping and going apeshit. Also getting to write an older and more responsible Minato. He’s still the little shit we all love, but he’s relaxed and fits into a more defined leader/mentor role because of it.

Shattering the Cinema: Persona Q2. Again, just another filler fic. It’s also a chance for me to have some fun with dynamics, as well as fuck with Ren a little since he knows nearly everything that’s going to happen in the future but can’t tell anyone about it for fear of messing up the timeline. There’s also the deal with Minato, Kotone and the Investigation Team – who are used to Ren as a kid as much more happy-go-lucky than the teenager they’re looking at now.

A Guide to Personal Prison Break: Persona 5 Strikers. Due to me using the Royal Route, it will be different compared to the game aside from the obvious adjustments. I do plan to involve Akechi and Sumire in this. And as explained at the beginning of the post, Naoya’s going to be a major character as well. His relationship with Ren is kind of not so hot after his arrest, and yeah, there was some mending that happened in P5R, but there’s still some tension. So he tries to use the road trip to help repair it. I do have a lot of the dialogue typed out for this already because as I was waiting for my replacement computer back in August, I was playing through Strikers again. So I thought I might as well.

[worstloki]

please read the article 'How White Fandom is Colonizing "Character-Coding"' by Shafira Jordan and quit while you're ahead

Okay, so I read it and see the problem, and I’ll try to address all their points in order because I don’t wholly agree with the article. I know it’s a lot to read so I’ve put tldr; sections at the end of each :)

Misusing the Term Reinforces Negative Stereotypes for Marginalized People 

The article essentially argues that labeling characters which are villainous as POC-coded is bad because they’re not morally pure and doing so "reinforces the idea that people of color are naturally dangerous and not to be trusted.”

Which is fair as you don’t want all the representation to be of ‘bad’ characters, but I also don’t believe all representative characters have to be ‘good’ either as it would be equally racist to divide good/bad in such a way. Not that I would place Loki under ‘bad’ to begin with, but arguing that characters shouldn’t be labelled as POC-coded for reasons unrelated to what’s presented in the narrative or because they did bad things is :/ even if lack of good representation is a prevalent issue in current Western and influenced media. 

Ideally there should be a range of representative characters that fall into ‘good’, ‘bad’, and ‘anywhere in-between’ because variety and complexity in character types should, in theory, be treated as common practice (which can only happen with a multitude of representation!).

And a bit unrelated but... within the fictional context of Thor 1, all the Jotnar (sans Loki) are presented to the audience as ‘bad’ by default. They desperately want to get their Casket back to the point of attempting stealing it (from the ‘good’ characters), they fight the heroes and even when the gang and Thor (’good’ characters) are enjoying or going overboard with taking lives it’s inconsequential, Laufey wants to kill the opposing king (who just happens to be a ‘good’ character) and will resort to low-handed methods to do so, etc. The narrative itself is from the frame of reference of the ‘good’ and we only see warriors of Jotunheim though so we understand why it’s like this, because regardless of their race/experiences the narrative carries, even if it most definitely would be seen as racist from our real-life perspectives if the ‘monstrous’ race were presented by actual people of colour, even if it would make sense for the people on on different realms living in different environments to be different from each other, and realistic even for that to be the root of some conflict. 

tldr; not using a specific label to prevent negative presentations of the characters seems a bit strange to do when the coding would be based off the text, but with limited representation available I see why it would be done, even if I still believe minority-coding is free game to expand/interpret.

Improperly Labeling a Character as “POC-coded” Suggests the Experiences of All People of Color are the Same 

The article argues that labeling Loki as POC-coded “suggests that all people of color have the same experiences, when in reality, people of color come from different places, have different cultures, and have different traditions.” And while it’s true that the term doesn’t go into detail about which particular experiences (and these experiences can vary vastly due to diversity!) the appropriate measure would be to remove the umbrella term POC altogether as people of colour tend to also vary. But that’s also exactly why it’s an all-encompassing general term? It’s a way to denote anyone who isn’t “white” and has the associated cultural privilege that comes with the concept of white supremacy.  

And, obviously, in the fictional setting presented, the concept of white supremacy is not prodded at, but cultural supremacy is definitely one that makes recurring appearances, right next to the parts about Asgard being a realm built on imperialism with ongoing colonial practice. 

My take on this is that Loki’s narrative features a struggle with identity after finding out he’s of a different race and was being treated differently his entire life and being Jotun was presumably a part of the reasoning even if he didn’t know it. He’s basically treated as of less worth for inherently existing differently. I do believe that racism is a common-enough POC experience, but that while Loki was born with blue skin he passes/appears white which is why I don’t say that Loki is a POC, just that he has been coded/can be interpreted this way. 

There’s also the entire thing with Loki trying to fit in and prove he belongs by trying to fit the theory and be The Most Asgardian by committing genocide (which ultimately makes no difference as he’s still not the ‘acceptable’ version of Asgardian), and the denial/rejection of his birth culture in destructively lashing out towards them (which even Thor is confused by because Loki isn’t typically violent), and the fact his self worth plummets and he is passively suicidal upon finding out he’s Jotun (internalized racism? general drop in self-worth after finding out he’s adopted and has been lied to? Bit of both?), but what do I know, I’m sure none of those are, at their base, common experiences or relatable feelings for anyone or decent rep because we see such themes on-screen presented wonderfully in different lights all the time. 

tldr; every set of experiences could be different, some types of discrimination could overlap, if you limit an umbrella term to only very specific circumstances then it’s no longer an umbrella term.

Suggesting that White Characters are Meant to be Seen as People of Color Ignores the Actual Characters of Color that are Present in these Stories

I don’t agree with most of this section, but that may just be the way the arguments are put together, which I don’t blame the author for.

“ Implying that Loki is a person of color completely ignores Heimdall and Hogun, the only Black and Asian Asgardians who appear in the movie. ”

Characters such as Hogun and Heimdall which are played by actual people of colour have smaller roles in the films and any prejudice they could face for being POC in-universe isn’t made apparent, while Loki at the very least comes to the realization that something he couldn’t change (race, parentage,) was having him treated differently his whole life and had to come to terms with it. The Vanir/Aesir are also both treated similarly on-screen, and Heimdall having dark skin isn’t plot relevant, whereas Jotnar are treated as lesser consistently and are relevant through the movie (breaking into the vault, Thor and co. attack Jotunheim, Loki’s deal with Laufey, the attempted regicide (and the successful one XD), destroying jotunheim, Loki saying he’s not Thor’s brother,). 

I also see including characters as POC-coded as... more representation? In all canon-compliant interpretations of the characters Hogun being Vanir is always explicitly mentioned because it’s a fact that just is, up to the appearance and even the world-building of Vanaheim in some fanworks use particularly East Asian culture as inspiration. I have never come across a Marvel fandom Heimdall interpretation where he’s not Black... but because these characters are more minor/side-characters of course they get less attention! 

“ In Loki’s fandom, Heimdall’s name sometimes gets thrown in to suggest that it was he all along who was the real villain due to his “racism” against Loki and the rest of the Jotun. It is, of course, ironic to suggest that somehow the only Black Asgardian to appear in the movie can oppress the privileged white prince. “

I... don’t know where to start with this. But the example of theorizing given in the article wasn’t suggesting Heimdall was bad or trying to explain his actions in Thor 1 by saying he is Black... and just looking at a character’s actions shouldn’t be done less or more critically because of skin tone in my opinion. Heimdall may have been trying to do what was best and protect the realm but if the audience didn’t know that Loki was up to dodgy things then the coding would be switched around because he was trying to spy and committed treason and then tried to kill Loki. People... can hold feelings towards others... regardless of skin... and suspect them... for reasons other than skin... although I do still have questions about whether Heimdall knew Loki was Jotun or not. (Even if I personally don’t think it’d make a difference to how he’d treat Loki?)

Some Loki fans have also suggested that because Jotuns have blue skin that this alone makes him a person of color (even if the audience is only allowed to see Loki in his true Jotun form for mere seconds of screentime). This, again, shows a lack of understanding when it comes to race. It doesn’t matter what skin color the Jotuns have. 

Race can differentiate between physical and/or behavioural characteristics!! Not being blue all the time doesn’t make him any less Jotun!! He’s got internalized stuff to work through and is used to being Aesir!! At least 1 parent is Jotun so even if Loki was passing as Aesir he’s probably Jotun!! (I don’t know how magic space genetics work for sure but Loki being Jotun was an entire very important jump-starting point in Thor 1!!). It’s a fantasy text and typically things like having different coloured skin indicates a different race or is sometimes if a species has multiple then is just considered a skin colour. That’s how coding works!! The Jotnar are very specifically the only race we see in the movie with a skin-tone not within the ‘normal’ human range, which alienates them to the audience from the get-go!! They’re an “other” and on the opposite side to the ‘good’ characters.

Both Loki and his birth father, Laufey (Colm Feore), are played by white men, and it is impossible for a white man to successfully play a character of color. 

The specification of men here bothers me, but yes, you don’t get ‘white’ people to play characters of colour if it can be avoided. (And it can be avoided.)

This also connects with the previous point made that people of color come from various places. There is nothing specifically about the Jotun that could be traced to any specific person of color, and even if there were, there would be no way for white men to portray them without being disrespectful.

This is where arguments about the definition of coding and how specificity/generalizations and do/don’t come in. I know I’m subjective and lean towards the more rep the better, but while I agree ‘white’ people wouldn’t be able to respectfully play a POC I don’t think that rule should have to carry over into fantasy-based fiction. I know texts reflect on reality and reality can reflect within texts, but if contextually there is racial discrimination and there are similar ideas which resonate with the audience’s own experiences I’d say it’s coded well enough to allow that.

tldr; Thor 1′s narrative revolves mainly around Thor and Loki, of which race is kinda kinda a significant theme in Loki’s part of the story. Not so much explored with less-developed side characters such as Heimdall and Hogun, even though their actors are actual people of colour. 

How Much of this is Really Well-Intentioned?

In the fantasy space viking world Heimdall and Hogun don’t face any on-screen prejudice and their appearance is not mentioned (which is nice, for sure! good to have casual rep!) but adding on to the roles they play in the narrative the explicit fantasy-racism in the movie isn't aimed at Asian/Black characters, but towards the Humans -to a lesser extent- and the Jotnar, including Loki, who only just found out he comes under that bracket.

The article mentions how fandom space toxicity often “reaches the actors who portray the characters,“ which is true, and it’s shameful that people have to justify their roles or presences are harassed for the pettiest things like skin tone/cultural background, but I don’t see coding characters as removing the spotlight from interesting characters such as those which are actually POC, rather expressing a demand for more rep, since well-written complex characters which are diverse are often absent/minor enough in the media, and therefore can get easily brushed aside in both canon and fandom spaces.

tldr; It’s obviously not a replacement for actual representation, but, if a character is marginalized and can be interpreted as coded, even if they would only be considered so within the context of the textual landscape, I don’t see why spreading awareness through exploring the coding as a possibility for the character shouldn’t be done, even if the media is being presented by people who are ‘white’ or privileged or may not fall into the categories themselves, as long as it’s done respectfully to those it could explicitly represent.

[kellyvela]

GRRM has said in interviews that he’s purposely played with the romantic tension between the hound and Sansa. What do you think the endgame purpose of the unkiss and that playing is meant to be for?

This is all what he said about the matter in question so far:

The Hound and Sansa, romantic or platonic? It could be very different things to each of those involved, mind you!

JUNE 24, 1999 THE HOUND AND SANSA

Moreta12: I understand, I’ve heard your opinion on that. In ACOK, it seems that the relationship between the Hound and Sansa had romantic undertones. Is that true?

GeoRR: Well, read the book and decide for yourself.

Moreta12: I’ve read the book and I’ve debated those particular scenes with a few others. Half say that it’s romantic and half say it’s platonic. I’ve taken the romantic stance.

GeoRR:  It could be very different things to each of those involved, mind you

Moreta12:Yes, but it seem like evidence points towards romantic undertones. Will the Hound appear later?

GeoRR: Yes, the Hound will be in STORM OF SWORDS. In fact, I just finished writing a big scene with him.

[Source]

When will Sansa be “legal”?  **ºª@”¡¿x<%$!&?

OCTOBER 05, 1999 AGE OF SEXUAL RELATIONS IN WESTEROS

The nature of the relationship between Sandor and Sansa has been a hot topic on Revanshe’s board. Sansa’s youth has been one focus of the discussion. What is the general Westerosi view as to romantic or sexual relationships involving a girl of Sansa’s age and level of physical maturity?

A boy is Westeros is considered to be a “man grown” at sixteen years. The same is true for girls. Sixteen is the age of legal majority, as twenty-one is for us.

However, for girls, the first flowering is also very significant… and in older traditions, a girl who has flowered is a woman, fit for both wedding and bedding.

A girl who has flowered, but not yet attained her sixteenth name day, is in a somewhat ambigious position: part child, part woman. A “maid,” in other words. Fertile but innocent, beloved of the singers.

In the “general Westerosi view,” well, girls may well be wed before their first flowerings, for political reasons, but it would considered perverse to bed them. And such early weddings, even without sex, remain rare. Generally weddings are postponed until the bride has passed from girlhood to maidenhood.

Maidens may be wedded and bedded… however, even there, many husbands will wait until the bride is fifteen or sixteen before sleeping with them. Very young mothers tend to have significantly higher rates of death in childbirth, which the maesters will have noted.

As in the real Middle Ages, highborn girls tend to flower significantly earlier than those of lower birth. Probably a matter of nutrition. As a result, they also tend to marry earlier, and to bear children earlier. There are plenty of exceptions.

[Source]

Unreliable Narrator

JUNE 26, 2001 SF, TARGARYENS, VALYRIA, SANSA, MARTELLS, AND MORE

[GRRM is asked about Sansa misremembering the name of Joffrey’s sword.]

The Lion’s Paw / Lion’s Tooth business (*), on the other hand, is intentional. A small touch of the unreliable narrator. I was trying to establish that the memories of my viewpoint characters are not infallible. Sansa is simply remembering it wrong. A very minor thing (you are the only one to catch it to date), but it was meant to set the stage for a much more important lapse in memory. You will see, in A STORM OF SWORDS and later volumes, that Sansa remembers the Hound kissing her the night he came to her bedroom… but if you look at the scene, he never does. That will eventually mean something, but just now it’s a subtle touch, something most of the readers may not even pick up on.

[Source]

(*) It was Arya who misremembered the name of Joffrey’s sword tho…

Unreliable Narrator 2.0

OCTOBER 05, 2002 SANSA’S MEMORY

[Note: This mail has been edited for brevity.]

… this is an inconsistency with ASoS more than an outright error. In ASoS, Sansa thinks that the Hound kissed her before leaving her room and King’s Landing. In ACoK, no kiss is mentioned in the scene, though Sansa did think that he was about to do so.

Well, not every inconsistency is a mistake, actually. Some are quite intentional. File this one under “unreliable narrator” and feel free to ponder its meaning

[Source]

Unreliable Narrator 3.0

NOVEMBER 27, 2007 GEORGE R.R. MARTIN ANSWERS YOUR QUESTIONS

Here’s a really particular question (which I realize means it probably won’t get asked in a general interview): In A Storm of Swords, there is a chapter early on where Sansa is thinking back to the scene at the end of A Clash of Kings when The Hound came into her room during the battle. She thinks in the chapter about how he kissed her, but in the scene in A Clash of Kings, this actually didn’t happen. Was that a typo or something? —Valdora

GRRM: It’s not a typo. It is something! [Laughs] ”Unreliable narrator” is the key phrase there. The second scene is from Sansa’s thoughts. And what does that reveal about her psychologically? I try to be subtle about these things.

[Source]

Sansa may be dead but Alayne is alive

APRIL 15, 2008 FUTURE MEETINGS, POVS, ARYA’S ROLE, EASTERN LANDS, AND ASSASSINS

[Will Sandor and Sansa meet?]

Why, the Hound is dead, and Sansa may be dead as well. There’s only Alayne Stone.

[Source]

A lot more dangerous than romantic

AUGUST 2, 2009 AS SER JORAH MORMONT…

weltraummuell: The Hound Oh please don’t cast an old guy for the Hound, his scenes with Sansa are so romantic and erotic, I couldn’t bear if it’d feel creepy all of a sudden. Well, that’s me making demands. LOL

GRRM: Re: The Hound Old guy? No, but… the Hound is still a whole lot older than Sansa, and was never written as attractive… you know, those hideous burns and all that… he’s a lot more dangerous than he is romantic.

kestrana: The Hound Yeah its a “girl always wants the bad boy” kind of thing although Sansa seems to pull something else out of him. It feels so wrong sometimes but I want to see them together again tee hee.

weltraummuell: The Hound Hehe, George, maybe you didn’t intend it, but he turned out to be a very erotic character to female readers. Especially since he’s mutilated and dangerous. Makes him unpredictable and vulnerable which is the most explosive aphrodisiac for a girl’s fantasy. ;)

weltraummuell: The Hound And I know from discussions on other board other women feel just the same about Sandor. He’s an absolute favourite with the ladies!

halfbloodmalfoy: The Hound LOL, you’re such a man. To many of us women, dangerous *is* attractive.

GRRM: The Hound But no one has any love for poor old Sam Tarly, kind and smart and decent and devoted…

[Source]

I played with it but I didn’t get the answer I was waiting for

JUNE 22, 2012 SWORD & LASER VIDEO PODCAST

GRRM: I am sometimes surprised by the reactions, of women in particular, to some of the villains. The number of women over the years who have written to me that their favorite characters are Jaime Lannister or Sandor Clegane [the Hound] or Theon Greyjoy… All of these are deeply troubled individuals with some very dark sides, who have done some very dark things. Nonetheless, they do draw this response, and quite heavily, I think, in the case of some of them, from my female readers in particular.

Veronica Belmont: I’m a big fan of the Hound, myself, actually.

Tom Merritt: Of Sandor? Really?

Veronica Belmont: Yeah, the Hound… Maybe it’s not because I feel any compassion towards them, I’m not really sure what the attraction is. Ah, I’m not going to call it attraction, actually. Let’s just say it’s a fascination, perhaps.

GRRM: [Chuckles] Well, I mean, fascination is one thing, but some of these letters indicate that there really is like a romantic attraction going on there. And I do know there’s all these people out there who are, as they call themselves, the “San/San” fans, who want to see Sandor and Sansa get together at the end. So that’s interesting, too.

Tom Merritt: The TV show has sort of played with that a little, and probably stoked those fires.

GRRM: Oh, sure. And I’ve played with it in the books. There’s something there, but it’s still interesting to see how many people have responded to it.

[Source]

I played with it but I didn’t get the answer I was waiting for 2.0

JUNE 23, 2015 GRRM Q&A AT THE SCIENCE FICTION BOOKSTORE IN STOCKHOLM

Question: “Is there any fan reactions that you have been surprised by, like is there a character that’s more popular than you thought or have people been shocked by something you didn’t think we would be shocked at?”

GRRM: “I’m reasonably certain what people will be shocked by. I knew that the Red Wedding would provoke a big reaction and it did. I was pretty confident that, you know, throwing Bran out the window and then killing Ned in the first book would get reactions, and indeed they did. All of those worked exactly the way it did to the extent that things that have surprised me, they tend to be smaller things. I guess I… Maybe I should not have, I don’t know. How do I phrase this without getting myself in terrible trouble… I guess I don’t understand women, but I was definitely, you know, way back when, surprised by the number of women who reacted positively to characters like Theon and the Hound as dashing, romantic figures. The san/san kind of thing took me by surprise, I must admit, and even more so the women who, and there are some, who really like Theon. So that surprised me.”

[Source]

Unreliable Narrator 4.0

DECEMBER 2016 ASKING GEORGE R.R. MARTIN ABOUT S@N/S@N

My question is regarding Sansa Stark. Her sexuality has evolved through every book and yet the memory that seems to stick the more with her in this regard is the night of the Blackwater. So I was wondering if you can expand on your view on what this is, since as before that night her interactions with Sandor Clegane weren’t really physical.

The night of the Blackwater, yes. Ahhh… Well, I’m not going to give you a straight answer on that hahaha… Uhmmm, but I would say that ahhh… you know a television show and a book each has its own strengths and weaknesses; there a re tools that are available to me as a novelist, that are not available to people doing a television show. And of course there are tools available to them, that are not available to a novelist, I mean they can lay in a soundtrack, they can do special effects, they can do amazing things that I can’t do, I just have words on paper. What can I do, well I can use things like the internal narrative, I can take you inside of territories… thoughts, which you can’t do in a TV show… Ahhh… You just have the words they speak, you see them from outside because the camera is external, while prose is internal, and I have the device known as “unreliable narrator”… Ahhh… Which again, they don’t have. So, think about those two aspects when you consider that night of the Blackwater.

[Source]

Do with it what you will.

[deadinside-butstill-horny]

The Night We Met

Part Three - Most Of You

Pairing: Javier Peña/ Female Murphy!Reader

Words: 10k - Word count got away from me.

Summary: We learn a little about Y/N’s past. Tequila is involved and inhibitions lowered. 

Content Warnings: Mentions of death, themes of PTSD,18+ SMUT warning, oral, fingering, dirty talk, penetrative sex. Lots and lots of consent, cause consent is sexy and you know our boy Javi is nothing if not respectful.

MASTERLIST

AO3

Author Note: I really enjoyed writing this. It’s absolutely just porn with minor plot but I have no regrets.

Got the gif from this photo set during the week because THAT’S THE SMILE I’M ON ABOUT. That cute as fuck half smile; it melts my heart. 

Part One   -  Part Two 

It just so happened that when Javier decided to stop trying to seduce you, the two of you could actually be around one another and have a good time. Well, not quite as good as that night. But in the grand scheme of things; good-ish. 

After the debauchery that had occurred outside of the church the two of you had ceremonially agreed to a ceasefire on all hostilities with your second meeting. You were equal parts surprised and disappointed that Javier had been on his best behaviour, the two of you had successfully bought the ingredients and were currently producing what was sure to be a decent breakfast without either of you ending up naked. 

He was the picture of domesticity as he sat on the counter top with a beer in his hand at 8:15am as you whisked some eggs in a bowl using a fork, you paused for a moment, taking a sip of your own beverage, then resuming your task as you threw the eggs into the too hot pan making them sizzle on the skillet. 

"No, no, no, no." Javier cried and pushed himself off of the counter as he tutted, coming to your side and placing his hand on the curve of your waist to move you out of his way. His hand slithers forward and lingers a second on your own fingers before he takes the spatula and puts space between the two of you to manage the task at hand. 

For a moment, you're perplexed. The movement itself wasn't particularly invasive or breaking from the gentlemanly persona he had adopted in the last two hours, but rather it was an act of, well, familiarity. Which reason dictates simply shouldn’t exist between the two of you. 

You had known each other for a grand total of 48 hours and that was being generous as you had been comatosed for easily 15 of those. He had a bad habit of popping up when you least expected it and disarming you with an easy smile. 

You didn’t like how he made you feel. Everything you said, you measured his reaction, a pull of his lip, a flash of his teeth or a narrow of his brow; these were his tells, well his obvious ones. 

You tried desperately to convince yourself that this was platonic analysis. It would seem you could kid Javier but you couldn’t trick yourself. You felt things for the man that you really shouldn’t after knowing him for two days. You were frustrated with the situation, he’d slept with another woman hours after your encounter. You were jealous, sure, but not betrayed.  

It was a matter of pride, that evening had somewhat extinguished the fire for the bronzed man who was currently trying to save the eggs you’d flash fried. What you were experiencing were embers. Yes, embers. The fire hadn’t completely been doused and all you had was a residual heat. A deep glowing burning heat, sure. But eventually reality would be sure to dump some more water on this fire and you wouldn’t feel this lingering need for the man, right?

“¡Espero que te gusten los huevos calientes!” Javier hollered over the sizzling with a smirk on his face as he scraped at the pan with the instrument he’d stolen from you. 

“Eggs and Hot? That’s all I got!” You question a smile warming your face, apparently his enthusiasm was contagious. 

He chuckled at your words and nodded, “Tu español no es tan malo linda dama!”

“I got nothin’ besides español,'' you shrug. Javier let out another snicker, he seemed to laugh a lot but he was missing the soft wrinkles bracketing his mustache which made you think that maybe this wasn’t his natural state. There was a light silence whilst he sliced the loaf of bread you’d picked from the store. As you were setting the table your book caught your eye from its place on the coffee table and you couldn’t resist trying out some of your newly learnt infant level language. 

“Hola Javier, mi nombre es Y/N. Mi color favorito es el Y/F/C.¡Me gustan los perros!” 

(My name is Y/N, My Favourite colour is Y/F/C. I like dogs!)

Javier turned around his expression; a picture of incredulousness. His eyebrows met in the middle of his forehead, his mustache almost touching his nose as you got a view of his brilliant white teeth in a genuine honest to god grin. If you had a camera, you’d have captured that moment.

“I’ll have to be careful around you, huh, sunshine? These new Spanish skills of yours could get me into trouble.”

“Bailar es divertido!” You exclaim using the only Spanish phrase you know.

“What?...Dancing is fun?... Where the hell did you learn this stuff?”

“Español … para... niños”

“Española para niñas” Javier corrected helpful “Unless you’ve got something you need to tell me...” 

“Damn! The masculine and feminine, they briefly touched upon the theory in Spanish for Kids. It wasn’t as in depth as you might think though.” You joke with a huff. “Hey, do you know where I can get a better translating book?”

“Learning Spanish, huh? How long are you plannin’ on staying exactly?” You jump at the addition of a third voice, Steve appears looking thoroughly rested with his voice two octaves lower than it should be.

“Well ya’ know Stevie, it’s pretty ignorant to not learn a little of the language of the country you’re in.”

“You didn’t answer the question.” Steve points out, you’d hoped he would give in and let it go considering Javier was here. Though seeing as he greeted his partner whilst grabbing a cup of coffee before turning expectantly towards yourself, your chances of skirting around the subject seemed slim. 

“I don’t have any commitments at home, not like I got the hospital waiting for me to come back. So... I’mma stay… ya know … live a little!”

“Gillian? She’s not waiting for you?”

“Nah, I quit.”

“You quit?! It took you fuckin’ ages to get that job.”

“Stevie, If I have to clean up puke in a fucking grocery store once more. I honestly don't think I can take it- don’t look at me like that. Three times is three times too many!” 

“You’re fuckin’ out of your mind. This isn’t a holiday.”

“No, but I need some change, you clearly need to get your ass kicked back in line. We both win! If you help me get a job it’ll be great… I can practically speak Spanish already....” 

“I dispute that.” Javier piped up.

“Shut up.” You say as you throw the tea towel at him. “Look Stevie. Everything’s fine. You were fine with Connie and Olivia being here. I’m a grown ass woman.” There was silence as Javier continued moving around the kitchen, only this lull was a little heavier, you chalk it up to you being the youngest and the only girl in a family with three brothers. God knows they’d been benching you your entire life. 

“Fine.” Steve huffed and sat down at the table as you and Javier served up. The man in question gave you a conspiratorial wink as you passed one another. Nothing more was said on the matter as you tucked into breakfast. Infact, pleasant conversation was kept up all through the meal until it came time for Javier and Steve to go.

“We gotta get into the embassy. Heard rumours the new boss starts soon and we need to get our ducks in a row.” Steve nodded to Javier's words. “You ready to get back in the ring?”

“Been ready for the past two weeks, man. This leave of absence was bullshit”

Steve grabs his coat as you watch expectantly, waiting for your invite to the boys club, that inevitably doesn’t come. Instead you receive a much more in character; “Stay in the apartment, for god sakes Y/N. Just for today. I’ve left my number on the pad if you need me.”

You nod noncommittally and combined with a shrug the action hits its mark as Steve sighs.

“This isn’t funny. Bogotá isn’t safe for you.” You repeat your action, this time without the shrug. He huffs but carries on out of the door, he must have realised that was as much as an acquiescence as he was going to recieve, Javier follows him but stops on the threshold. 

“Te encontraré ese libro, Guapa.” He calls out before closing the door behind him.

“no hablo español, motherfucker!” You shout after him, you vaguely hear his warm chortle as he descends down the stairs. With your legs propped up on the chair in front of you, you huff and look around the room.  The absolute assholes had left you with the washing up. Yeah, feminism was definitely taking a hit during your time in Colombia. 

Apparently the agents hadn’t got the memo about the change in gender roles, you cursed their names as you turned on the radio to some latin music and began the arduous process of cleaning the entire kitchen, including the appliances and counters you hadn’t even used. 

You then moved onto the lounge, hey, if you were going to play the role of housewife, you were going to at least be a good one. You hoovered, reorganised and dusted your ass off for at least three-ish hours before you got bored, abandoning your work for snooping, you were only human after all.  

First you looked in the medicine cabinet and found nothing good, I mean, you don’t know what crazy drugs you were expecting your brother, the DEA agent, to have in his possession but you were crestfallen with the dull discovery of a spare toothpaste, American xanax and ‘aspirina bebé’.

With a lamentful sigh you took your sleuthing into the bedroom, pulling his bedside drawer open with a hesitant hand. You don’t know what dark sexual preferences your brother and Connie may or may not have and you didn’t want to risk permanent scarring. As you open it fully you glance inside remaining tentative, your eyes first fall on the badge left behind. He must have forgotten it. You take it out and place it on the bed beside you as you continue to investigate.

Your hands find a wad of folded yellow notepad paper, the jagged edges have been ripped from the main pad in frustration. Unfolding the wad, you do a once over of the sheet in front of you. The words ‘Dear Connie,’ make you halt in your sted.  Finding a gimp mask or weed was funny, this however crossed a line. So you placed the notes back where you found them, you turned to grab the badge and place it back on top of the pile but as the light shone on the metal an idea sprung to mind.

To say you were famed for your impulse control issues was an understatement. You often acted first with no regard for the consequences, hence your presence in Colombia and your extensive shoe collection. But as you drove your brother's Jeep through the streets of Bogotá, you realised that you may finally push Steve over the edge. Already in too deep you took the final turn, following the map you had spread out on the passenger side and were greeted with the American flag. Eureka. You had taken an embarrassing amount of wrong turns but had finally arrived.

You pulled up to the barrier and smiled at the Colombian guard donned in a dark green uniform. 

“Hola, Agent Murphy DEA asked me to drop off his badge.” You wiggle the object of your deceit in his eye line. 

“Identification?” The guard asked in heavily accented English.  You shut off the car's engine as you turn to your purse and pull your driver's license out and hand it over. He inspects the plastic, looking between you and the ID before nodding and handing it back to you, definitely not a social butterfly.  He then waved to the gentleman controlling the barrier, allowing you access.  

“DEA office is to the right. Personnel only.”

“I’ll be in and out, quick as a flash.” You reassuringly smile at the man and receive only a stony glare in return. Deciding to stop pushing the apparently limitless bounds of your dumb luck you pull through the barrier and into the car park on the right. You park up in what you hope is an unreserved space and hop out of the tall vehicle.

“Right, what's the plan again?” you mumble to yourself as you pause for a second, before starting towards the cream building and hopping up the stairs. You cling to the badge like a life raft, terrified you’ll be stopped as the imposter sight-seerer you are. Now in your defence, you knew this was dumb. Steve had an important job and distracting him wasn’t helpful in the least, but you couldn’t help yourself. Stay inside- like that was ever going to happen.

So you scoured the offices of the embassy for about fifteen minutes before you decided to break and ask for help, finally stopping an american looking woman with large stylish shoulder pads and even bigger hair. 

“I’m looking for the DEA office? Steve Murphy, Javier Peña?”  She seemed to bristle at the mention of the latter.

“Take that elevator to the third floor and it's the third door on the left, but watch out for Peña, he’s a real- '' She cut herself off with a huff, before nodding your way and walking off.

No shit, sister. 

Following the potentially scorned woman's instructions you found yourself in the DEA Bogotá headquarters; only Steve and Javier were nowhere to be seen.  

Fuck.

You looked around the room taking a slight step back getting ready to turn on your heel as an older white haired man entered the room. 

“Hey Newbie, I need two copies of each of these and I need these faxed to the team in Medellín.”

“Uh-”

“I needed them there yesterday, so get to it.” He dumps the two huge piles of files into your arms as you stare at him bemused. Looking back you still don’t know why you didn’t say anything, but you rolled up your sleeves and whipped out that can-do attitude and got to work, at what was apparently your new guerilla admin job. And that is how Javier and Steve found you two hours later, fighting with a fax machine and on the phone to the office in Medellín.

“No- I understand how the machine works… Yes… Yes I’ve turned it off and on, I think the problems on your side… No I don’t- Well Weaver needed the case file there yesterday so you need to figure something out! Yes… Yes I’ll hold. “ You turned when you heard steps behind you, pressing the receiver between your head and your shoulder and holding the fax machine manual. 

“Hey Guys!” You say cheerily, pretending like this was completely normal, like you hadn’t just dropped into Steve’s life and then surprised him every step of the way. 

“What in the hell are you-” Steve started, however the woman on the other side of the phone decided to pick up, you held up one finger to the two of them as a pause. 

“Oh, Hey Salome, It’s no problem… that’s great, I'll give it a try.” You drop the manual and press the green button on the fax machine, the machine begins making the whizzing sound you’d been chasing for the past twenty minutes. “Sounds all good on my end. Right, that's great I’ll send the rest across now. Thanks, have a nice day!”

“Am I high, right now? What the fuck is going on?” Steve’s tone matched his face with the disbelief painted upon it.  He had taken a seat at the desk which just so happened to be next to the fax machine and copier. Javier sat at his own in front of the typewriter with a smirk on his face lighting up a cigarette.

“Uh, well... I came to give you your badge cause’ you forgot it at home and then Weaver asked me to do some copies. Turns out that security here is pretty lax, cause’ I’ve been copying and faxing classified case files for the past two hours and no one seems to know or care that I don’t work here.” Steve’s eye all but twitched as he rubbed at his face. He reached into his bottom drawer and pulled out a bottle of whiskey and began pouring himself a glass.

“Fine.” He actually shrugged after downing the drink in one. Damn, You weren’t sure which had broken him, yourself or Colombia. “Better you’re here where I can keep tabs on you...Javi, can we get her an actual job?”

“I’ll run it by Messina,” Javier shrugged as he stood from behind his desk. “Probably best not to mention the perusal of classified cases though.”

So that’s how the three of you ended up at dinner celebrating your new job four days later, you were officially an office administrator for the DEA in Colombia, heading to the CNP base of operations in Medellín alongside your brother and his partner as their administrator, well, from what you understood, you were their dogsbody.  Your Spanish speaking ability had been greatly exaggerated but you were undeniably overqualified for the position, so, pending a background check you were through doors. 

Your interview with Steve and Javi’s boss; Messina, had been nerve wracking and your Murphy name had won you no favours. 

You’d given it your best and from what you could see you’d managed to convince her you were worth your salt. 

Yep, you’d proved yourself totally capable and more importantly, completely willing to move around 8 hours away to Medellín to live on an army base where a drug cartel was incredibly active. According to Javi this had apparently made you a very appealing hire to the DEA.  As such you were being sent along with the boys to help out on the front line, well, as close to the front line as an admin/dogsbody gets.

The three of your glasses clinked in unison, before you drained your shot with a regretful gasp, Tequila was the devil. 

“Thank you to Javi, for not only saving my sister from her stupidity once, but twice… or is it three times now?!” Steve lifted his second shot as he gave his heartfelt speech. Picking up the lime you’d just sucked the juice out of you launched it at him, missing by some margin. He let out what could only be described as a snigger as both him and Javi threw their second shots back.

If you were completely honest with yourself, you were wasted. 

The three of you had enjoyed a meal and many, many subsequent drinks. Knowing full well the two men had a distinct advantage of having had at least a year to pickle their livers in whiskey from the stress of this place, you had insisted that for every two drinks they had, you had one. . 

Still, six drinks in with no sign of stopping you felt better than you really had any right to. The room had yet to start spinning and for those small mercies, you were thankful.

“Nah, Thankyou to you both! I’ve heard Medellín is lovely this time of year!”

“Well, you won’t know. You’ll be spending all of your time on base, where it’s safe.”

“Steve-”

“Non-negotiable. You wanna come to Medellín, fine. But you do what I say, and no Y/N’s day out like in Bogotá.” 

“Dude, you’re such a buzz-kill!”

“Dude? What are you 15?!” Javier jokes with a cigarette between his lips. You’d been here only a week and yet he’d managed to navigate how to defuse an impending Murphy fight from a mile away.

“You should’a seen her at 15. Those teeth!”

“Ya’ got any pictures?” Javi asks, half distracted with flagging down the waitress and showing her five fingers.

“Really Steve, you wanna go there? After the earring incident?” Javier turns his full attention on you. 

“Murphy had an earring?”

“No-” Steve tries to interrupt.

“Yep, a nice little hoop.”

“I didn’t…”

“It got caught on his windbreaker and he ripped it out of his ear, it got infected.”

“Wind breaker?” Javier was biting his lip and staring at your brother, not really trying so hard to contain his laughter.

“Can’t think why I didn’t want you around, Sis. Look- I was trying something out; It didn’t work, so I moved on.” You wait a beat, allowing Javier to take in the information before you helpfully and without prompt drop a nugget of information for the Hispanic man.

“... He had to go to hospital.” A chortle burst unintentionally from Javier’s chest as your comment caught him by surprise. 

“Y/N!” Steve burst out in frustration, making you cackle with glee.

“Okay, Okay.” You hold your hands in mock surrender as the waitress drops another round of drinks on the table.

“Let’s head over to the discotheque, live music- no Sicario’s. Big with Bogotá policia so very safe.” Javier pitched like he was speaking to a child as he tried to convince Steve. He knew you were in from the excitement that lit up your form.

“I don’t know, dancing-”

“Would be good for you! Come on Steve, this place is closing soon anyway-” You counter, only to be cut off as he frantically looks at his watch. 

“What time is it- I promised I’d phone Con tonight- FUCK!” He stood quickly grabbing the table to steady himself and ran to the phone box just outside of the bar, you could just about see him from where you sat in the window booth besides Javi.

The two of you looked at one another for a moment, you weren’t quite at the level where conversation came easy, but you weren’t uncomfortable by any means.

“Thanks for talking to Messina for me… honestly. You’ve done so much for me since I got here.”

“Like I said, it’s no problem, guapa.” He smiles at you, not a smirk for once but a delighted easy smile that rarely graces his face. “I saw your CV.”

“Oh.” The smile drops off of your face, his eyes analyse your reaction, the easy smile replaced by a sombre expression. 

“Yeah, Oh. You were a doctor, a surgeon? I thought you mopped up vomit in a grocery store in Miami?”

“It’s complicated.” You gave him no further explanation, you expected him to move on, except Javier wasn’t like other people, he didn’t make things easy. He stared at you expectantly with those deep brown questioning eyes.  “Christ, okay. Yes I was in my final year of residency, not quite a surgeon.”

“How does that happen?”

“How does what happen?” You question, you know you’re being difficult but this isn’t something you’ve talked about with Steve, for Godsakes. He did that trick once more, hitting you with those soul-full eyes. 

Honestly, it was lucky you weren’t working for Escobar, forget waterboarding, all Javi would have to do was look at you to get you to give up your darkest secrets. “Things didn’t go my way, I wasn’t happy there. The hours were long and that shit was heavy.” 

He didn’t seem satisfied with your answer but he didn’t push any further, finally respecting your reluctance, he nodded. Stubbing out his cigarette and tilting his head towards the shots he asked “...Another?” 

“Why not?” You reply hesitantly.

Taking the salt you go to shake it onto the back of your hand when a tanned one stops your movement in its wake.

“No, no, no. Let’s do it a little different.” His eyes shot up to where your brother was leaning against the phone booth before he took your hand in his. Adjusting his grip he lifts your wrist to his mouth. Your heart is beating in your ears as you watch as his pink tongue pokes out and laps one, twice at your pulse point. A long line of saliva is left on your wrist as he shakes the salt over it. His eyes meet yours for a moment, as if asking permission. 

You don’t know how you even instruct your brain to nod, but regardless you carry out the action. Javi brings his mouth to your wrist once more in one solid stroke of his talented tongue, your eyes clamp closed as he finishes swiping up the salt before draining both the tequila and lime.

You’re breathing heavy as you open your eyes, to find those mahogany ones laser focused on you.

“You missed a step.” You mumble, your eyes never leaving his as you hold the lime up to his mouth, rind first. His teeth close over it and his lips just barely graze your fingertips. You turn to check on Steve, thankfully your brother has his back to the two of you, deep in conversation with Connie. Probably for the best, given your plan.

You turn sideways to face Javi, lifting one of your legs up onto the booth and bending it at the knee to get a vantage point. The alcohol coursing in your veins gives you the courage as one  hand wraps around his neck and the other his shoulder, you lean forwards to give one long solitary lick up his neck, right on the pulse. You taste his sweat stained skin, salty and warm on your tongue. 

Reaching for the shaker, you apply it liberally, smiling as you drop some of it down his t-shirt. Though from the stare he seemingly refused to remove from you, you don’t think he much cared.  Once you considered your job done, you turned back and pushed his head to the side and began licking the salt from his neck, this time you tortured him with three small cat licks along the flesh, you felt his neck tense as his hand moved from its place on the pleather booth and wrapped around your thigh. 

You reached back to the table and sank your shot. Wincing you turned back to Javier, leaning forward to grab the lime from his mouth. As you did so, he dropped it purposefully, staring directly into your eyes, a clear challenge, before he grabbed the back of your head and pulled you forward locking your lips in a devastating kiss. He tasted of lime, tequila and just Javier; that unexplainable component which was both sweet and smoky. His tongue plundered the depths of your mouth, seemingly uncaring of your brother who was mere metres away. Your hands roved his chest before locking in the short hair on the nape of his neck. 

Unexpectedly it was Javi who broke the kiss. The two of you paused with your foreheads meeting, much like the night you met.  He seemed to be trying to regain control.

“Meet me in the bathroom?” You whisper, rubbing your nose against his beautifully angular hooked one. He breathed out heavily through his nose, his eyes opening and pushing you away by your shoulders.

“No, I’m not gonna fuck you in the fucking bathrooms of a filthy fucking bar- are you crazy?” Behind his eyes a rage and arousal battled, apparently you had rattled him with your question, he reached forward for his whiskey, and took a sip whilst shaking his head and trying to centre himself. “I’m giving you whiplash? Yeah that’s real cute. You change what you want every single fuckin’ day, then look at me like I’m a dick.”

You supposed he had a point, after all you had been the one to ask for the redo and then stared at him longingly every day since. “It’s not an easy situation to navigate, ok? I came here for Steve-”

“You didn’t come here for Steve.” He uttered under his breath, staring straight ahead with his elbow perched on the table and holding the glass to his mouth.

“Excuse me?”

“You didn’t come here for Steve, not completely. You came here for you.”

“That’s not-” Javier turns to you, locking you down with his gaze. It was easy to forget he was a cop; observative and attentive to a fault, he could call your bullshit from a mile away. 

“Everything you’ve done since you got here, that’s not for him. You’re desperate for some life back in those veins. You don’t just give up being a fuckin’ surgeon and feel fulfilled with your position at a fuckin’ grocery store, Sunshine.”

“Wow, you’ve got me pegged, huh? No wonder they’ve got you after Escobar, best detective on the fucking case.” You roll your eyes refusing to look at him, sipping a beer as a way of hiding how he’s unnerved you. Everything he’s saying true and you’re ashamed of yourself.

“You don’t come down to the embassy if you’re trying to make your brother's life easier. I’m not criticizing Guapa, but how about cutting the bullshit messiah complex.”

You’re embarrassed and trying to look anywhere but him. His hand reaches for your own as Steve rounds the corner, the tanned fingers instead lock around the shot glass in front of you. 

“So, what’d I miss?”  Your voice is lodged in your throat, you don’t think you could speak even if you could think of the words you wanted to use. Javi answers in some nondescript way you don’t even really listen to before ordering another round of drinks.

“Y/N/N, You alright?” Steve asked, ever the concerned brother.

(your nickname)

“Yeah, Javi- uh, he saw my cv.” It wasn’t a complete lie but you still feel bad for using past trauma to make your brother skirt around the issue in the way you knew he would.

“Oh, Uh… Drink?” Steve stared at you, uneasy. 

“Yeah, a drink would be great.” Your voice is monotone to even your ears, you reach forward and down the beer in front of you, desperate for this awkwardness to be over and the feeling in the pit of your stomach to vanish. You’re happy to say after around ten minutes of the two men holding up the conversation, it atleast eases slightly.

There’s a lull as you all wait drinks arrive and you have managed to regain your basic motor skills. This is the selfishness Javi is talking about. Steve needs a good night, without feeling crappy about his damaged sister stealing the lime-light. So putting your best foot forward you look across to Javi and smile.

“So, how was Connie?”

“She’s good! She’s enjoying getting back to work, her sister’s having Liv during the day.” Guilt swells in your stomach once again. You should be there making Connie’s life easier, but instead you abandoned her to play the hero in Colombia. The shame spiral is slowly clawing at your stomach, as you force yourself to take a deep breath. 

“That’s good…” You’re saved by the bell, or rather the waitress bringing over the tray of beverages. Taking your beer first, you reach across and controversially take two of the shots. Both men chuckle at your bravado as Javi asks the woman for an extra shot.

The night continued on much like that, minus the regret whirlwind as the tequila seemed to help get rid of any real self reflection. The three of you didn’t even make it to the discotheque, as by the time the bar closed, the three of you began the short walk home, you were carrying the large box of pizza that you had insisted on ordering.

Surprisingly, Steve was the drunkest of your trio. His phone call with Connie had sent him into his own spiral. He began drinking tequila like it was water, to the point Javier had thrown in the towel, deciding he’d much rather like to live to see tomorrow. So with your pizza in one arm and your other wrapped around your brother's waist, you and Javi half carried Steve home and up the stairs into the apartment. 

The two of you unceremoniously dumped him on his bed, carefully you placed the pizza box you had cradled to your breast on the chest of drawers before you stepped forward past Javier. 

You pulled Steves boots off of his feet and pulled his legs up onto his bed, taking his belongings out his pockets; yes, including his gun, you placed them on the bedside table. You then placed a glass of water and an aspirin next to them, feeling sympathy for his head tomorrow morning. 

Happy that your job was done, you shut the light off and went into the living room, once again cradling the pizza. Javier was slouched on the sofa/your bed flicking through your Spanish introduction book, as you entered the room he threw it back on the table and pointed at the empty whiskey bottle on the coffee table.

“Got any more?”

“Think, that was his last one…” you shrug.

“Come down to mine for a drink? I don’t like how we left things.”

“No more talking?” Javier looks at you reproachfully, scanning your body as if the direct proposition you’d accidentally given him was the last thing he expected. “Uh- I mean- no more hard questions and no more...touching.”

“Alright.” He nods, pushing himself up with a sigh. “But if there’s no more touching, I get half of that pizza Sunshine.”

You nod and smile, following him down the stairs to his apartment. As you cross the threshold emboldened by tequila, you don’t dwell on your self destructive tendencies as Javier’s recent comments would’ve made you if you were sober. 

You’re tired and all you want is a drink of whiskey, some pizza and for Javier to give you that smile, the one that makes the side of his mustache raises and reveals the pearly white of his teeth. Dropping the pizza down on the coffee table you make yourself at home, sitting very deliberately on the couch he hadn’t screwed someone else on. If he notices, Javi didn’t say anything. 

He hurried over, cigarette balanced in between his lips as both hands were taken up. One holding two glasses and the other cradling the whiskey. He sits himself down with considerably more grace than you had, on the other sofa. You reach down the side of the sofa where you spy the remote peeking out from beneath the leather cushion and begin skimming through the channels until you find the telenovelas you'd unironically begun watching since arriving in Colombia.

Opening the box of Pizza, you take a slice and begin devouring the meal. It’s not quite like pizza as you know it, but it's tasty and full of carbs to soak up the alcohol so you can’t find a fault with it.  The two of you eat in silence for around half an hour.

It seemed neither of you were eager to break the silence after the daunting conversation from earlier. It’s as you’re taking your first sip of whiskey watching two women argue in Spanish on the television you decide to speak.

“I figure I owe you some answers.”

“You don’t owe me shit, Sunshine.” He’s leaning back in his seat, whiskey balancing on his knee and a fresh smoke in his hand.  “Sure I’m intrigued, but I'll figure you out in the end. Miami’s own angel of death?”

You chuckle at how close to the mark he is as he makes a shot in the dark. “I’m gonna need a refill if we’re gonna talk about our feelings…”

“Feelings… woah, woah, woah. I didn’t sign up for that.” He has a brazen smirk on his face, as he takes the now empty glass from your palm and fills it up. You down a second and he repeats the task.

“I killed a kid,” You wheeze as you wince from the burn turning your head towards the television and nursing the now full whiskey glass between your hands. “You asked why I gave up becoming a surgeon. I... I was the lead resident on a fuckin’ appendectomy. I could do that shit in my sleep. I perfed the abdominal wall as I was geting ready to close him up; a tiny fucking knick. There were no bleeders and his vitals remained normal, didn’t even notice I’d done it.  It was as they were taking him back to the ward, he just crashed.”  

You finish another glass and as your eyes water, you pretend it's the burn of the alcohol. You breathe heavy, your upper lip quivering. You’ve heard of the sensation but never felt it. 

“I froze. I opened him up in the lift, by the time I got back in there, he’d bled out. A twelve year old; Justin Miller. Just a fucking kid.” Javi doesn’t try to interrupt or make you feel better, which honestly made the whole thing easier. 

“His mom sued the shit out of me and the hospital, can’t say I blame her. I took a sabbatical and when it was time to go back, I couldn’t. Couldn’t go into the OR without having a fuckin’ panic attack.” You hadn’t met Javi’s eyes for the entirety of the one-sided conversation, scared that when you looked up you’d no longer find those treacle eyes filled with warmth. 

Silence fills the air for a devastating second whilst Javier digests your words.

“You fucked up.” He mumbled finally,  your eyes shot up to his own and within the pools of chocolate you found his usual warmth, though his customary jovial expression was suddenly somber. Such an expression looked strange on the gentle man you’d come to know, but you knew it was far from out of place. “In our line of work, you mess up; someone dies. It’s not fair or easy, just is what it is.”

You don’t have a word for the noise you make, somewhere between a scoff and a gasp. You chuckle as his response to years of complex trauma you’ve never recovered from is boiled down to five simple words.

“It is what it is.” You repeat disbelieving.

“Can’t change the past. Useless to try.”

“Stuff it down with the brown?” You ask, lifting your empty glass in a cheers.

“Exactly, Guapa.” He unscrewed the whiskey bottle and began pouring you a generous portion. As he’s screwing the lid back on he sits back down, this time though he’s on the couch next to you. “Maybe someday I’ll get teary and we can talk about my fuck ups.”

Your only response is to punch at his hard thigh next to you as you take a long sip, thinking about the information you’d willingly just divulged to Javi.  “I’ve never talked about that before.”

“Not with Steve?”

“Not with anyone. I was ashamed for a long time, still am. But it’s different now; more manageable.”

“Ready to operate then, Doctor Murphy?”

“Asshole.” You say with a reluctant smile to the joke at your own expense.

“pendejo” he leaned back on the sofa as he translated. 

“pen-dejo?”

“Si muy bueno.”

“Another!” 

“Coger!”

“Co-g-er?”

“Si insistes…” He trails off with a smirk.

“You’re a dick.” 

“Yes, I am.”

After placing your drink on the coffee table, you lean over to Javi slowly, refusing to break eye contact, all the while and you lay your head on the plush leather of the sofa; nearer his shoulder than his own face. 

“Thankyou, Javi.” 

“I keep telling you, Sunshine. It’s nothing”

“It’s everything,” You close the distance and place a kiss on his lips. It’s neither heavy nor chaste, like when he initiated them. This is full of meaning, It speaks of letting go of the past and welcoming the future, it's deep and warm and delicious. Your tongue licks at his own as your hand rises to rest on his cheek holding him there, you explore the depths of his mouth instead of conquering them. He tastes of the whiskey and somehow residual tequila, you find yourself getting drunk off of the taste of him. 

Pulling away you rest your forehead against his own. “I’m so tired… and drunk.”

“Sleep with me.”

“Javier, you said- I mean, I don’t think-”

“No, sleep. Just sleep... with me. Gotta be better than the couch up there,”

“No funny business?”

“Scouts honor.”  After a moment of contemplation you decide that this was specifically breaking the rules of your selfishness, the tequila may have altered your perception of the rules somewhat but you had wanted this man for so long. After your emotional confession, falling asleep next to him seemed cathartic.

You take the remote once more and click the red power button, the screen goes black as Javier has already disappeared into his bedroom. You hear him rummaging around in his drawers as you cross the threshold. Once he’s seemingly found what he was looking for, he holds the article up to your inspecting eye. 

It’s a plain olive green v-neck tee, nothing particularly special about it, but it would do as pyjamas, so you accept it gratefully, much preferring a tshirt to the sundress you’d worn out to dinner. You push the straps off of your shoulders, letting them fall under your armpits as you clutch the dress to your front. You pull Javier's t-shirt over your head and are greeted by the fragrance you’d come to love. It smelt like washing powder, spice and cigarette smoke, you wouldn’t say smoke was on your top tier of smells list but it reminded you of Javi so you couldn’t bring yourself to turn your nose up at it. 

Once the shirt was covering all the important bits, you lowered your dress and stepped out of the offending cloth. 

“A little late for modesty, eh?” He smirks as he lights his cigarette, leaning against the pillows of the bed. He was referring to the morning after you’d arrived in Colombia, where you’d walked through this very apartment, bare as the day you were born. 

At some point Javi had rid himself of his dress shirt and dropped onto the bed still wearing his jeans. You shimmy your bra down the sleeve of the tee, to make a point. Winking at him as you finally pull it free. You fling it on top of where your dress lay abandoned. 

“You’re still a perv for that.” You smile fondly at the man as you clamber over to your side of the bed. He’d taken the left, closest to the door. He doesn’t reply as you make yourself cosy, under the thin blanket of the duvet.

You roll over to face him, he seems to be miles away. 

“Where’d you go?” You ask softly, though he startles still. 

“I’m right here,” He deflects, leaning over to the ash tray to stub the smoke out.

“Ok…” You roll your eyes as he turns off the lamp and lies flat on the bed next to you. The two of you are silent for a while. It’s not quite awkward but it's definitely not comfortable silence, the two of you know the implications of your decision tonight. Even if Javi is being a perfect gentleman. Your eyes have yet to acclimate to the dark as you stare out trying to search for his form. 

“Stop staring at me.”

“It’s dark, I’m not staring at anything.” You reply to his childish remark. You hear a chuckle catch in his throat. He seems then to have finally made his decision, he reaches forward and wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you to his chest. You go to stop him, but there's nothing to stop. He makes no further move as he holds you there. Your cheek rests on the overheated skin of his pectoral, it has just enough give to be comfier than any pillow you’ve ever encountered. 

“Maybe, I’ll tell you about my fuck ups one day.” He whispers into your hair, despite the way he says it being non-committal there's a promise behind the words. You don’t reply, already drifting off into the best sleep you’ve had since arriving in Colombia, or perhaps ever. 

A part of your brain registers Javi placing a kiss on the crown of your head as your eyes finally shut, though it is quickly replaced by the singular thought of ‘God, I hope I don’t drool all over him.

                                                       “You sober?” You look up at the clock on the bedside table that reads 5am. You’d been asleep for about four hours. You make a non committal noise in your throat. 

“Javi?” You mumble sleepily, the man behind you is peppering kisses on your neck.

“You want this?” Again you groan, this time however, you nod your head. His arm rises to wrap around your neck, arching your back to get you closer to him. “Do you want this?”

“God yes.” You gasp, pushing your hips back against his bulge. His hands release your stomach as he kisses down your neck once more. His hands are hard on your flesh as they map out your body in the dark.

His hands continue to roam your body as they slide under his shirt, they land on your breasts, he can’t help himself as he weighs them in his hand. He groans in your ear at the feel of them in his palm. You’d always had Javier down as an ass man, he’d nearly burnt a hole through your jeans the night you’d met. But apparently Javi was a man of many tastes as he worshiped your nipple with the pads of his fingers, rolling the sensitive bud through his thumb and forefinger. 

You groan at the sensation and push yourself back into him, desperate to feel every inch of his body against your own. You pull away suddenly and he makes a guttural sound in the back of his throat, though all of his questions are answered as you pull his shirt over your head and throw the offensive fabric across the room. As Quick as a flash he’s back on you, his mouth attached to your neck, giving you absolutely no quarter. 

He’s the one bucking into you this time and that seems to awaken part of your brain, your hands reach behind you they’re clumsy from sleep and the angle you have is awkward, you struggle with the button of his jeans for a second before his hand leaves one of your breasts to undo it for you. His hand returns as quickly as it left though it doesn't stay there for long as it slowly roves south, stroking the flesh of your stomach and making your entire being tighten up in anticipation as he feels you through your boy shorts. His touches are light at first, testing and exploring your body, before his fingers begin teasingly rubbing at your clit seeming to delight in the way, your wetness seeped through your underwear.

You force your brain back to the task at hand as your hand finds his abdomen and lowers through the hair lurking below his zipper, mimicking the actions he had performed on you moments before, however you have no intention of teasing. 

They find their mark, and you have to stop yourself from gasping. You’d felt him on the sofa that night but my god, your imagination hadn’t done him justice as your hand just about closed around him as you pumped him awkwardly behind you. He groaned in your ear and began whispering in a blend of Spanish and English.

His hands rise to dip under your panties, they brush across your mound before they find their home. His fingers barely touch you at first, seeming to be getting the lay of the land. After a moment of teasing, a single solitary finger swipes slowly along your slit, gathering the evidence of your arousal on his fingers. 

He groaned in your ear. “So fucking wet, that sweet little cunt is so ready for me…” Instantaneously you lose all motor skills as your body goes into shock, Javier’s dirty mouth would be the death of you.

Fucksake Y/N he wasn’t even inside of you, yet here you were writhing in his arms like a wanton whore from a single sentence. 

Your reaction seemed to spur him on as he let go of your body and rolled you onto your back. He swung around on his knees to fit between your legs. His hands rested on your hips, gripping onto the panties that lay there before he rolled them down your legs and threw them behind him. He leaned forward on his elbows, to stare at the most intimate part of you. 

Javi began kissing down your thighs, placing small bites along the sensitive skin along the way, getting closer and closer to the throbbing warmth of your pussy. 

“I meant what I said, cariño. I want to know how you taste.” Your mind is brought back to that church, the way he had you pushed against those bars, you didn’t think your body could constrict any further. You were desperate for any kind of contact. And you knew right there and then that you had been right; This man would destroy you. 

He struck then, much like a cobra towards his prey. His tongue flattened against your warmth, breaching your folds and catching on your clit.  The tip of his tongue was skilled as it danced along your bud, drawing cry after cry from you as your hands grabbed at his short ink black hair. 

He takes one final lap at your swollen clit before his tongue goes lower, he pushes through and sinks his tongue inside of you. His nose, that you’d appreciated for its character bumped perfectly against your clit making stars shoot behind your eyes.  You clenched around his tongue, desperate to be filled, he seemed to get the message as two fingers were quickly buried in your aching hole. 

“So fucking tight,  Guapa, I don’t know if I can fit three...te lo vas a tomar tan bien.” His tongue had risen back up to your clit, the combination of the vibration and filth of his words made a whimper drop from your lips, before he started rotating his tongue in circles around your swollen bud as his two fingers pumped in and out of your cunt at a thundering pace drawing you closer and closer to the edge as the minutes went by.

Finally, his fingers curled inside you as he sucked your clit into his mouth and all at once you were pushed off the cliff. You couldn’t tell what pushed you over that first peak so quickly, maybe it was the fact that it was Javier, the man who had been plaguing your dreams since you arrived in Colombia, currently between your legs devouring your cunt like a starving man, perhaps it was a culmination of five days of foreplay, but whatever the reason, when you fell, you fell fucking hard. 

You clenched around Javi’s fingers like a vice, so much so he hissed into your pussy and began thrusting his fingers faster. Spots clouded your vision as your whole body curved upwards and around the man giving you this pleasure as your legs clamped around his head and your fingers must have scratched his scalp as your hips thrust, riding his face to your peak. You were as taut as bowstring before the tension finally snapped and your body exploded in euphoria. You let out a cry as you crescendo on Javi's talented tongue.

He didn’t stop straight away, even after your body slumped back against the bed, he coaxed you through the aftermath of your orgasm, lapping at your entrance and drinking your come like it was the most delicious wine he’d ever sampled, groaning all the while.

Finally, he pushed himself forward, kissing at your thighs, your mound and finally your stomach as he came to rest over you, holding all his weight on his elbows. His face met your own as he kissed you deep, fucking your mouth with his tongue as he had done your pussy moments before. He leans back rubbing at your stomach, at your hips, at any flesh he can get his hands on. 

“Sabes mejor de lo que podría haber imaginado precioso.” He whispers against your breast as his mouth locks around your nipple. Javier Peña speaking Spanish did things to you, even if he hadn’t been stimulating your breasts you knew for a fact you’d be just as wet from hearing him speak in what you could only assume was a first language from the ease with which it left his mouth. You wished more than anything you could understand what was undoubtedly the filth coming from his mouth. 

You had recovered enough from his assault on your clit, to move your hands from your sides. They raised up and traced the tanned skin on his chest. He really was beautiful. He pulled back to stare at you, giving you a clearer view of his body.

He was muscled yet lithe and you took a self indulgent moment, committing the sight of him to memory, before your hands wrapped around his cock, which was standing to full attention through the undone zip of his jeans. He was what must have been unbearably hard, if you’d have had light to see, you had no doubt the head of his cock would be purple, straining with need. You pushed his jeans further down, recruiting your feet to push them down over his ass. Your hands roamed down to squeeze at the bountiful offering of meaty flesh. 

He chuckled as you pinched his cheek, before lifting his knees one at a time and kicking his jeans off of the bed and before you knew it he was lining himself up, brushing the head of his cock through your wet folds. Despite his groan at the contact, he had the discipline to check a final time. “This is what you want, Y/N?”

You didn’t bother to answer, you pushed his hand away from his cock, and pushed it towards your hole. You pushed your hips up against him in lieu of an answer, welcoming the head of his cock inside you. Even though all you could manage was shallow entry, the feel of him inside of you was glorious. 

 His hands, those talented, glorious hands found your own, wrapping his significantly larger ones around yours above your head. He pushed forward with one strong thrust of those lithe hips and he buried himself balls deep inside of you, rooted so deep you swear you could feel him in your cervix. He was everywhere, he was plundering every inch of you as his body surrounded your own, heat built between the two of you as sweat began coating both of your bodies. 

Every thrust brought you closer to your second peak, turning your head you couldn’t resist trying to get him to claim your mouth too. Though you couldn’t quite reach far enough to make contact, as if reading your mind Javier bent his elbow pushing his torso forward, coincidently pounding deeper into your body as your lips joined in a messy kiss.  He was fucking into you slow and deep, his tongue began following the rhythm of his cock as he claimed every single part of you as his own. 

The pace was brutally slow, just enough to get you to that edge and keep you on it, you could barely speak. You felt like you were drowning in Javier and every time you came up for air he bottomed out, meeting your hips with his own and the wave of pleasure cut off the oxygen all over again.

“Please… Javi…”

“W-what do you want Sunshine?” He panted out continuing with his slow tempo.

“Faster...please... God.” He ignored your cry for speed and continued fucking you into the matress at his own pace, though his thrusts were just as slow but they were harder. His hips hit against your own, as he put all of his power behind them, getting as deep as he could. If you didn’t know better you’d think he was trying to tunnel through to your womb. You clenched at the thought as he fucked you deep and hard. 

“... Javi…” You cried his name, a desperate plea as he kept you suspended over your peak, refusing to let you free fall. Finally he huffed, taking your legs and throwing them over his shoulders.

“You want me to fuck you properly, huh, Guapa?” He began thrusting into you at an arduous pace, the room was filled with your cries, his grunts and slapping of your connecting skin. Those telling black spots were clouding your vision, your second orgasm of the evening was fast approaching. Once again you clenched down on Javi’s thick cock. 

“I’m gonna’ come.” His hand lowered and began rubbing at your clit, not pausing for a moment as he fucked you thoroughly. 

“ven por mí...ven sobre mi polla… fuckin’ Sunshine, fucking taking my cock…. buena niña, podría follarte todo el día.” The second he lost his brain and began muttering in Spanish was the moment you were gone. You came for the second time as he was relentlessly hammering into you, drawing your orgasm from you. Your whole body braced against him, your eyes squeezed shut as you clamped down around his cock, milking him tightly.

“Fuck!” He growled at the tightness surrounding him. 

After a few moments he pulled out, quickly grabbing your and flipping you onto your stomach, after placing a pillow under your hips. He then buried himself back inside of you to the hilt his groans mixing with your own at the sensation. He kept up the pace he had before but this time the angle was deeper as he forced your legs together with his thighs. 

Javi’s hands grabbed at your ass (perhaps he was an ass man after all) slapping the meaty flesh which resided there and then instantly kneaded the tissue he’d just abused. His hands rose to carresse the skin of your hips before he took a punishing grip on them and began fucking you in earnest. Javier taking his pleasure from your body whilst you lay a drooling mess from the orgasm he’d already gave you was an image you didn’t know would turn you on, but it made you clench around his shaft as it plundered your depths. 

He began speaking again, though they were lost in a mix of Spanish and English, so much so you couldn’t differentiate. His pace was relentless and finally you felt him begin to shake as he gasped above you

“¿dónde?...w...where?”

“Come inside me, Javi.” He groaned at words and continued pounding until his hips stuttered and he brought it home and buried himself deep inside, filling you to the brim with his seed.  

The two of you lay there breathing heavy trying hard to get your breath back, half of his weight on top of you and the other half resting on the mattress.His cock was slowly going soft inside of you, yet you felt no urgency to move.

“So much for scouts honor, huh?” You ask from behind a veil of hair, turning your face which had been buried in the mattress moments before. Your voice is hoarse; completely wrecked much like the rest of you. 

He’s silent for a moment of consideration, before he leans forward in the moonlight and pushes your hair from your face. The action makes his cock shift inside of you and a little of his release spills out onto your thighs. He continues anyway and places a soft kiss on your lips before whispering “... I was never a boy scout, cariño.”

TAGLIST - Leave a message if you’d like to be added homies.

@drinkingwhileblogging @va-guardianhathaway  @jedi-jesi @obsessivelysearching @cannedsoupsucks @wantingtobekorra @littlemissoblivious @linnie0119 @pascalesque @pedrosmustache @sir-lili @obsessivelysearching @fairytale07

A/N: Fuck me that was the steamest shit I’ve ever written. This was especially for @drinkingwhileblogging and her turquoise titties, hope this makes up for me blue balling you all. 

[cassandraclare]

Jessa/Wessa ship wars

teenagefunbouquet said:Isn't it enough Tessa&Jem got a wedding comic, two kids (and you say more), a lifetime as the only mates for each other and your most explicitly written sex scene After the Bridge? Wessa are the most popular and we get nothing, every wessa moment is shared with Jem while Jessa get to be alone, Wessa fans got no "anticipation" like jessa fans are getting now everyday you give them a book in jem's pov or a short story or a new kid. it feels like wessa is dead.

I’ll be interested in people’s thoughts on this. (I left the username as is since it’s a blank account, probably created to ask this question, so no one’s really getting hurt in this minor drama.) Most of my long and somewhat crabbish post is under the read more.

First, let me reply with the obvious, which is the Jessa rebuttal: “Isn’t it enough that Will gets to be Tessa’s first love and Jem only gets to be her second? Isn’t it enough that Will and Tessa had sex when they thought Jem was dead? Isn’t it enough that there’s a whole series about Will and Tessa’s kids but we only find out that Jem and Tessa had a kid in a short story? Isn’t enough that Jem and Tessa have spent half their relationship looking for a kid who’s related to Will, not either of them? Isn’t it enough that Will and Tessa got two biological kids they got to spend eighteen years raising and Jem and Tessa only get like two years with Kit? Jessa are the most popular, but half the stories in Ghosts of the Shadow Market happened while Will was still alive! And now Wessa fans are getting content every day and have two more books of Wessa being married and doing cute stuff to look forward to. Every day they’re getting a special edition of a book with a whole short story about their wedding. It feels like Jessa is dead.”

Not that I believe any of that either: I think both complaints are equally silly and selfish. But they are complaints rooted in the same logic, which is “My ship is the best and most popular, and every time I see something that in my mind supports the ship I hate I feel angry and diminished, and rather than perhaps examining those feelings I’d like to vent them on other fans and the creator.”

So. My feeling about this is: I am sad to see there is still some kind of a ship war here. As far as I am concerned...

the Wessa/Jessa ship war ended in 2012 when we found out Tessa loved both boys equally and would spend a lifetime with both of them. The end. Quibbling about irrelevant details like how many kids each couple has subsequently or examining closely the explicitness of their sex scenes seem bizarre and pointless. It has nothing to do with how books and stories are made, or how they work, or what functions they serve. At this point it’s like you decided your favorite football team could definitely beat another team, and you spend all your time obsessing about it even though they will never play against the other team because the other team is a hockey team.

When I see people say that “Wessa got” something or “Jessa got” something, it makes me cringe. It reduces stories that are about other things, often friendship, to being about a ship war I am not a part of. (Not every story or book in which a couple appears is a story about that ship. Sometimes they’re just grouting their shower or fighting a demon.) Wessa and Jessa are not dueling pop stars fighting over who gets to perform on the Tonight Show. In fact, they are not fighting at all, which is part of the underlying problem. People are used to love triangles where two guys are fighting over a girl and are jealous of each other. Will and Jem are not jealous of each other. They are not fighting over Tessa. To believe that it lessens Will and Tessa’s relationship that Jem is around and alive, or that it makes Jem and Tessa’s relationship better that Will is dead, is a fundamental misunderstanding of these characters and the story they are in. You are trying to shove a square peg into a round hole, and it will cause you endless misery and frustration.

For instance, claiming that “every Wessa moment is spent with Jem.” Well, that’s ridiculous. Obviously, Will and Tessa spent an enormous amount of quality time alone together in TID. (Otherwise, you would have no investment in this relationship in the first place. There’s a reason you’re attached to it.) Jem did not attend their wedding. He is around in Chain of Gold mostly in his role as a Silent Brother: tending the sick, helping James, bringing news. He is not around during the scene where Will and Tessa make love, or when they kiss and cuddle in the drawing room, grossing out their kids. (I had to fight very very hard to retain even one scene of Will and Tessa alone: in a normal YA book, you would never see a sex scene between the parents, from their point of view.)

The problem is not that there is no “Wessa content” to “anticipate.” The majority of Wessa fans are happy to enjoy stuff like the wedding story or the Wessa moments in TLH. The problem is that the person asking this question will only accept a TLH book in which Jem isn’t mentioned at all as “Wessa content,” and since that would be a fundamental and appalling betrayal of the story and characters — something I would never write and never consider — they will forever feel they are not getting what they deserve.

Asker: if you think that it’s somehow better for Jem and Tessa that Will is dead, that they “get” something that Will and Tessa don’t by having had something awful happen to them, then I do not even know how to begin to speak to you. What has always been meaningful to me about Will, Jem and Tessa is that they all loved each other equally. If that is not the case, then they are not people I am interested in writing about. If that being the case makes you not want to read about them, then you are free to stop — please do — but the story is not going to become something other than it is because you feel your ship is the “most popular.” (Which it is not in my experience, the ships are about equal, and I don’t know why it would matter if it was.)

In After the Bridge, which is not an explicit sex scene but rather a short story that contains sex (they exist!) Will is mentioned thirty-two times. Here’s an example:

“Jem swallowed, running his fingers up and down the blade. “He had only just died,” he said. She didn’t need to ask who he was. There was really only one He when it was the two of them speaking. “I was afraid. I saw what happened to the other Silent Brothers. I saw how they hardened over time, lost the people they had been. How as the people who loved them and who they loved died, they became less human. I was afraid that I would lose my ability to care. To know what this knife meant to Will and what Will meant to me.”

If you think Will isn’t present in Jem and Tessa’s relationship just because he’s dead, you’re wrong. He’s mentioned constantly. (And if someone thought that made it not Jessa content, I would have the same discussion with them: If Jem and Tessa didn’t care about Will, I wouldn't care about them.)

As long as there has been fandom, there have been ship wars. Social media has added a new dimension to that, which is what you’re doing here: the ability to run to the creator and complain, hoping they’ll side with you or give you what you want.

Here’s the problem: it’s really really toxic to have been involved in a clearly vicious ship battle for years. It will destroy utterly your ability to read or enjoy the canon you’re arguing about. I’ve been there, I’ve had friends be there. If you think it’s a point for Jem and Tessa that Will is dead, if you went into Last Hours thinking Jem wouldn’t be in it, that is a sign of a profound detachment from the actual reality of the canon books. You are not interacting with what I am writing or the characters as they are. You are interacting with the fight you are having. That is why your discourse has spun so far off from the books it no longer resembles what is actually happening in them, and demands such extreme gestures to be appeased — like leaving Jem out of Lost Book when he’s actually from the city the characters are visiting, or cutting him from Last Hours even though it would be unrealistic, cruel, and a disappointment to the vast majority of readers.

Dismissing every single moment Will and Tessa have together in TLH because Jem is alive somewhere and it’s bothering you is a recipe for you to be miserable. Clearly you didn’t enjoy the Wessa wedding, or the Will and Tessa love scenes in Chain of Gold. Clearly you consider Jem and Tessa having children not to be a reason for happiness but rather bitter rage even though it is totally irrelevant to Will and Tessa’s past relationship. The only thing that would be satisfactory would be a rewrite of Clockwork Princess in which Jem was run over by a tank and Will and Tessa didn’t care and were happy and got married and we never had to hear about Jem again. But because that would require time travel and a rewrite of Will and Tessa as vile assholes, that is not a thing you are going to get. If you are determined to always be miserable about the reality of what this story is, than the only result of that is that you will always be miserable.

There is never going to be a winner of this love triangle. It isn’t that story. No amount of anything I do is ever going to change that: no short stories I write, or content I produce, or books or sex scenes or longform poems about either couple will change the fact that both Will and Jem ended up with Tessa and she loves them equally. If you want a “somebody wins” kind of love triangle, there are other books that will provide that for you. These will never be those books.

So why did you write this long screed, Cassie, the rest of you might be wondering, and fairly. Three reasons. One is that there are other questions that are carbon copies of this one (as in, written by the same person/small group of people) cluttering up my inbox, and I want to put a stop to the idea that this kind of thing is going to be acknowledged as a valid comment or complaint. It’s not. Second, we have all been driven bananas by quarantine and I am no exception. The third is that this is the last time I am going to address this kind of ship-fight-disguised-as-question. Any further demands for me to favor one Tessa ship over another will be responded to with a link to this post. In the end I’m hoping this will be a time saver once we’re all allowed outside again.

[thebmatt]

FFXIV Write Day 1

Foster – “encourage or promote the development of (something, typically something regarded as good)”

“I still cannot believe you built a bloody airship! I mean, I’ve done maintenance work on them under Cid or Stephanivien’s tutelage, but you BUILT one, from practically nothing!”

Tataru looked up from the pile of paperwork she was dealing with and grinned at Franks. “What, you didn’t think little old me could do it all by myself? No, wait, that’s not it, is it?? You’re JEALOUS!”

Franks threw down the cloth he’d been using to clean his gun and tools only moments before. “Of COURSE, I’m jealous! You know how many times I’ve tried to make time with either one of them to learn more about magitek engineering? I’ve lost count, because every time, without fail, either I have to cancel because the star’s in peril again or one of them has some company emergency or other to deal with! And now here you are, buildin’ an entire AIRSHIP! Hells yes I’m jealous!”

Tataru spasmed as she tried to hold back her mirth, covering her mouth, but there was no hiding the look in her eyes. First a few giggles escaped her, growing more numerous and loud, until she released peals of laughter, falling over in her chair. Franks eventually joined in, the pair enjoying a simple moment together.

Eventually Tataru managed to get herself under control. “Well, hopefully one day, this will all be in our pasts and you can spend the rest of your days building and maintaining magitek, if you wish. Think you’ll open up Cid’s first competition? Or maybe work for him? Wait, can you stand to be around Nero that much?”

Franks chuckled as he resumed cleaning a wrench.”Honestly, once you recognize and accept that his boundless arrogance is an attempt to mask both his profound fear at having to essentially restart his life in a formerly-hostile land AND trying to sort out exactly how he feels about Cid, he’s really not that bad. But while working at the Ironworks would certainly be enjoyable, I think my place is in Ishgard, in the Machinists guild. I want to be at the forefront of that discipline, both training new recruits and helpin’ Stephanivien come up with new tools for them to use. I foresee workin’ closely with the Ironworks to make that happen, though, so it’s really the best o’ both worlds.”

Tataru nodded. “I don’t know what the Scions will do once this is all over. I don’t even know if there’s really a place for us once the world is saved, if such a thing is even possible. But I might quite like working for Cid, I think. There’s a lot of upsides. Good pay, constantly getting to learn, don’t have to leave Mor Dhona…”

“Not to mention being in constant proximity to a certain Lalafell engineer…” Franks added, smirking as he looked over in her direction.

Tataru flushed and quickly looked away from his knowing gaze. “Y-yes, I suppose being near my good friend Wedge would be a nice perk!”

“Uh huh” Franks replied, not at all sounding like he was buying that description for one second. He finished wiping down the last piece of his aetherotransformer, and with practiced ease, began reassembling the components. With a final click, the device came together and lit up from within. Giving it a final examination, he returned it to its place at his hip and began reassembling his gun. “So…this next question might seem cruel, and if it’s hurtful please tell me so I can apologize, but I’m curious. You’re clearly a good engineer, which means math isn’t a problem for you. So why have you had such a problem with arcanima?”

Tataru had returned her attention to her paperwork, but the question stopped her mid-sentence. She looked back at Franks, her expression one of sad acceptance. “Thank you for saying it like…. that”

“Tataru, I’m so…”

“No no, it’s not bad. It’s nothing I haven’t asked myself and wrestled with, but I came to an answer a while ago.” She picked up a small clock that adorned her desk. “When I’m building, anything from constructing an airship to something simple like sawing wood…the math is there, a physical object in front of me. When I can see, can feel, the results right then, it all makes sense in my head. But with Arcanima….it was all in my head for me to unravel before it would manifest the magic. That’s harder for me. Not impossible, I don’t think I could have manifested a carbuncle or a Ruin spell otherwise, but I was a lot less confident, doubly so when I had to fight with it. I think that confidence, or lack thereof, is why my carbuncle didn’t do what I want.”

Franks nodded. “That absolutely is understandable. Everyone learns differently after all.”

Tataru’s smile brightened. “And really, I’m somewhat glad it didn’t work out! I wouldn’t have been able to find my talents as a crafter and intelligence gatherer for the Scions if I hadn’t accepted defeat with a grimoire!”

Franks laughed. “Absolutely true. I’ve no idea what would have become of the Scions if you hadn’t! We probably would still be wondering how we’d pay for the fare to Kugane! Definitely wouldn’t be eating as well, that’s for sure!”

She had to laugh at that. “Oh, I get it, I’m just your bank lender and chef, is that it?”

“In all seriousness, do you still wish you could join us in the field? Fight alongside everyone?”

She paused, a thoughtful expression crossing her face. “I won’t deny the idea doesn’t STILL have some appeal, but I know I’m way more valuable to the Scions in my current role. I do wish I had a more reliable way of defending myself, especially should the Garlands attempt another Waking Sands massacre, though. I suppose I’ll just have to hope the people of Revenant’s Toll are more capable of defending us than the citizens of Vesper Bay were.”

Franks looked back down to his gun, nodding. “Mmm, makes sense. Even if you aren’t in enemy territory, as it were, traveling around isn’t always safe. We might just have to….” he stopped, nearly dropping the assembled firearm.

“Have to what, Franks?”

“I can’t believe I never thought of this. How did it not occur to me?”. Franks stood up, slinging his weapon across his band into the holster that held it in place. He looked to Tataru with an almost manic gleam in his eye. “Go get something warm to wear, Tataru! We got someplace to be!”

Tataru looked confused “W-where??”

Franks grinned. “Ishgard!”

A bell later, the air around the Ishgardian aetheryte gave a slight pop as it was suddenly displaced by the appearing forms of Franks and Fearless. Both shivered, if only briefly, before their bodies re-acclimated to the colder temperatures that they had grown used to those many moons they’d spent in the city.

Both were quickly recognized by practically everyone they passed by, and while Franks had little hope of recognizing most of the people who spoke to them, Tataru seemed to know everyone, able to call them by name and ask personal questions that she’d had to have learned about on those random evenings in the Forgotten Knight. More than once, she was able to recognize fully helmed Temple Knights by voice alone. Franks, for his part, hurried them both along, seemingly eager to reach their destination.

“So where ARE we going, exactly?” Tataru asked in between a conversation with one of Hilda’s people in the City Watch and a noblewoman of a minor house. Franks didn’t reply aside from a grin on his face until a few minutes later when he stopped in front of a building and pointed. “There!”

Tataru bid one more person farewell and stopped to take in where the pair had arrived at. Sounds of rhythmic thumping filled the air, which smelled of flame and metal and soot. She looked up at the building. “Skysteel Manufactory? What are we doing here?”

“You’ll see!” Franks called back, already having made his way to the corner where one needed to turn to enter the Manufactory’s font door. Tataru squeaked and started after him as quick as her smaller legs could carry her. By the time she rounded the corner, Franks had already thrown open the wooden doors of the entrance and strode in.

“Franks, my old friend!” a voice cried out from within. Tataru quickly ran to catch up, and as she entered the door, the eyes of an Elezen man quickly jumped to her. “And mistress Tataru! What a surprise!”

“Good to see you too, Lord Stephanivien!” she replied, smiling.

“Whatever brings Ishgard’s savior, and most importantly my best machinist, and the Scion’s….erm…what IS your official role within the Scions of the Seventh Dawn these days, milady? If half of what Franks tells me is true, “secretary” would seem a woefully inadequate title! Perhaps ‘the very hull on which the entire ship is built’? No? Too long?”

Tataru giggled. “Oh no, milord, ‘secretary’ is just fine. I like it, makes people underestimate me! And that’s how I get em!”

“Who’s come calling, milord?” came a voice from the upper levels of the Manufactory. A woman’s head peaked over the railing, her blond ponytails dangling from the sides of her head. “I thought I heard….TATARU!” With that, she bolted for the stairs that led to the entryway, sliding down the rails. Tataru ran for the woman and lept right into her arms, hugging.

“What’re ye doin here, girl? I thought you were busy keepin’ them Scions from fallin apart!”

“I don’t know, rightly! Franks dragged me….” Tataru trailed off as she noticed that Joye’s braids had somehow completely undone themselves, and her hair was a wild mess. “Are you ever going to tell me how you do that??”

“Dunno what yer on about! FRANKS!” she turned and yelled at the man who’d been quietly conversing with Stephanivien. “Why you dragged this poor lass all the way out into the cold arse o’ this time o’ night without tellin’ her what’s goin on?”

Franks smiled, leaning away from Stephanivien, and crossed his arms. “Well, Joye, I’d like to introduce you to someone that, well, you don’t really need introduction to! That lady you’re hugging is Tataru Taru, Scion of the Seventh Dawn, the glue and rivets that keep the very organization held together, and-“

“We know who she is, ye daft sod!” Joy interrupted, setting Tataru back on the ground. “Ya literally just watched us have a mini-reunion!”

“-AND, assuming she’s amenable, the newest member of the Machinist’s guild!” Franks continued, as though he hadn’t been interrupted.

THAT got everyone’s attention. Both Joye’s and Tataru’s jaws dropped. Stephanivien simply smiled.

“Wait…this is your solution to me wanting to increase my martial skillset?” Tataru asked.

Franks threw his arms out, gesturing around to the manufactory around them. “It’s a perfect idea! Think about it! You’re already proficient with magitek, you’ve certainly proven that by now! You already know what I’m guessing is about 80% of the members already! You don’t need any extensive training in magic or heavy melee arms, all you really need to learn is how to shoot! I don’t doubt you can get the hang of that, especially with Joye teaching you!”

Joye looked down at Tataru. “Aye….aye I can! Tataru, this’ll be great!”

Tataru still appeared in shock. “But…I don’t…I don’t have a gun! And I bet they don’t keep ones sized for Lalafell around!”

Stephanivien knelt down to face her. “As it turns out, my dear, we actually made a custom one for a colleague of ours from Garlond Ironworks. He frequently comes to collaborate with our fair guild and commissioned a carbine with which to recreationally shoot. He keeps it here, as well. I believe you are acquainted with one Wedge? His weapon should suffice for you to practice with until we can build a custom one for you. I daresay he will not object either, would you not agree?” He winked almost conspiratorially.

“I know where it is! Come on Tataru, let’s go blast some training dummies!” Joye practically dragged Tataru behind her as she ran outside. Tataru didn’t require TOO much prompting, however, as pretty soon, she was running full steam out the door behind Joye under her own power.

Stephanivien turned to Franks. “Seems you have a knack for fostering talent in people, my friend. I heard of the fortune that befell the Baroness de Jervaint, and now you’ve added a new member to our guild’s ranks as well! I know you must wear any number of metaphorical hats, but I am quite glad the Machinist’s goggles are among them!”

Franks smiled. Whatever the future held, he was glad to keep building towards making it better.