#I wish I could explain this deeper and with more details but language barrier is a cvnt

[r0botic]

Giskard and Daneel's bond doesn't get as much attention as it deserves.

Elijah and Daneel this and Elijah and Daneel that, but can we talk about Daneel and Giskard? The amount of attention these two get is so little it makes me want to pull my hair out, they are best friends! Everyone look at them! I genuinely think the robots' bond was way stronger and more genuine than what Elijah and Daneel had. (Btw this is fully about The robot series only)

‼️(I *DON'T * ship neither Gis x Dan or Eli x Dan, saying this just in case.)‼️

Let's not forget they are robots, their relationship can be compared to something we humans have, but the comparision will never be fully accurate, as they are machines and lack emotions. That's also one of the reasons why their relationship is so fascinating to me.

It makes me smile how they always tried their best to keep the other safe, ESPECIALLY in The robots and empire.

The part where they held hands is so important. We know that Daneel is a humanoid robot, he thinks like a human at times, Giskard said it himself. So the fact it was Daneel offering the handshake and Giskard accepting it is just so adorable, considering the meaning behind it. Daneel was with Elijah often and if it wasn't programmed into him since the very start, he for sure had many opportunities to see how humans show affection and gratitude. So just imagine two robots trying to show their trust and loyalty to one another without knowing how to actually do it, so they imitate humans.

Giskard's preference to save Daneel over listening to Vasilia's orders and then explaining why he did it is probably my favourite scene in the whole series, he mentioned this "personal need" that helped him use the Zeroth law in practice, and Daneel saying he would do the same for him if the roles were switched? Sobbinggg

And don't even get me started on how they basically complete each other, they always come together, they can't be separated, it's Daneel and Giskard always and forever. Giskard is the one who gets the ideas and Daneel is the one who turns them into reality. They both needed each other, Giskard could alter emotions, had experience and a very specific way of thinking, Daneel understood human thinking and his mind was more flexible, which allowed him to think about things that Giskard wanted to think about but couldn't due to his restricted mind. If you connect these two you get an insanely strong duo, which is (SPOILER) in my opinion one of the reasons why Asimov decided to kill off Giskard. Imagine how crazy they could go with it if they both continued living after the last book.

Let's not forget about that one robot shooter attempt, Daneel immediately jumped on Giskard and knocked him down in order to save him from being shot. He didn't know that the aggressor was a robot, so he had to decide between saving Gladia and saving Giskard, accepting the risk of the other dying, and as it was mentioned in the book, he immediately went for Giskard. He had to break the first law and accept the risk of Gladia dying, because Giskard and what they yet had to achieve is something he (QUOTING (at least from the Czech translation)) "doesn't think he could survive losing".

The Zeroth law was the work of the both of them and I'm dying on this hill, they invented it together, they both put in the effort and made it work, together.

(SPOILER) And Giskard's death? Daneel's reaction absolutely destroyed me. He took his hand again, for the first time he offered Giskard his hand as a thank you gesture for saving his life and to prove him his complete loyalty, and for the second and also the last time he took his hand as he tried to save his life aswell, he tried his best to assure him that he did the right thing and doesn't deserve to suffer, but it didn't work. He had to watch his last friend die and then let his hand go, accepting the fact that his only help he had left is gone and now he's completely alone for absolutely everything. Good lord who's cutting the onions, i'm not okay.

Now, why do I think Daneel's bond with Giskard is stronger than what he had with Elijah?

This is going to be a very simple answer from me. Daneel would always serve Elijah, simply because he's a human. Daneel would always help him, listen to his orders and protect him, no matter if he personally liked him or not. There would always be this forced urge to do what he says, because he was programmed to. I'm sorry, I just can't help myself but see some fakeness behind this, it would never be fully genuine. Obviously I don't doubt Elijah and Daneel's friendship, I loved them and no one is ever going to insult them on my watch, but a human and a robot relationship will never be as free and genuine as a robot and a robot relationship, because in their case there's nothing that is forcing one to listen to the other.

And when there was a law that was basically forcing them to be split apart, they found a way how to walk around it and save their robotic best friend. This is just so impressive, imagine you are a robot whose mind is built on three (and somewhat four) laws and you find a way how to avoid acting upon the strongest two of them, just to save a robot who you aren't supposed to care about AT ALL. Imagine the pressure they were under and the risk they had to take. If this isn't the strongest act of loyalty, I have no idea what is.

Also, the difference in their brains, Elijah is a human and has a human brain, Daneel is a humanoid robot who thinks like a human at times, but he is still a robot with a positronic brain, and guess who else is also a robot with a positronic brain. I really liked how Asimov made Giskard and Daneel talk to each other when they were alone, they were simply using some key words and they understood each other perfectly. My point is, their brains can basically somewhat connect since they are both robots, even if one of them is an older model, therefore that automatically makes them be closer to each other.

I *DO* love Elijah and Daneel's bond, I've loved them since the very start and I was rooting for their friendship. I jumped very high in the air at the end of The caves of steel, the way Elijah's view on Daneel changed made me smile so much. You could see the improvement at the start of every book, the way he greeted him was always more enthusiastic than the book before and that was absolutely adorable, because it meant he's finally growing to him. They had so many funny moments together i think about to this day.

But the way Daneel is so damn tied to Elijah by the Laws of robotics and Elijah reminding him of it every time he felt like Daneel is taking over smells just so iffy to me, and I can't do anything about it. Don't forget how the robots always reacted when someone thanked them for a rescue, especially Giskard, he said it very well at the end of The robots of dawn, he simply did what he was programmed to do, there was no will behind it, he just did it because he had to, no need to thank him, and that's exactly what i'm talking about.

-

I could talk about Dan and Gis' relationship for hours and hours and never get tired, their bond was so well written. I wish people paid more attention to these two, it's so sad, I need people to talk about them more! They avoided laws to protect each other and held hands like the bffs they are! What more could you possibly want!

- now me just rambling..

I think this should be enough to close the case with "they had the closest bond possible and deserved a break to just sit down together and relax for a bit", because they never got it and it makes me furious.

So you are telling me they realized they are something humans call friends, and then just had to work their asses off til one of them literally fkn died? Are you serious rn? They couldn't even talk about it more or anything. I get it, they had that one absolutely immaculate 10/10 moment where they held hands and i'm sure that by that gesture they told each other everything that needed to be told, BUT I AM NOT SATISFIED. I DIDNT GET TO SEE THEM HAPPY TOGETHER AND SAY "we did it", I DIDNT GET TO SEE THEM CHANGE THE "friend Daneel/Giskard" TITLE TO "best friend Daneel/Giskard" SO IM MAD!!! AUGHH!!!! IT SHOULD'VE BEEN THERE!!! ASIMOV COME BACK HERE RIGHT NOW!!!

“I know that. And yet—and yet, if it were to happen again, I believe the same anomalous change would take place again.”

Daneel said, “It is strange, but hearing you put it so, I find myself feeling you did the proper thing. If the situation were reversed, I almost think that I, too, would—would do the same—that I would think of you as a—a human being.”

LMFAOOO 😭 JUST GET MATCHING BFF ACCESSORIES AT THIS POINT LOL LOOK AT YALL!!! SO OBVIOUS!!!! (The fact they never got to be actually happy together is a mental torture for me that i'm not sure if i'll ever get over)

[sneezefiction]

untouchable | vi

Atsumu x Reader

desc: in which an accidental run-in with pro volleyball player, Atsumu Miya, at a 7/11 leads to a strangers-to-lovers situation… but the catch is, you have no idea that he’s famous.

warnings: slight language, anxiety

wc: 6.6k

part 5 ⚬ part 6 ⚬ part 7 

untouchable m.list

—

Recap:

And for the first half of this year you found yourself falling in love. Falling for this second glance of a man.

So finding out that Izumi Kenji had a partner was a punch to the gut. 

Reaching for his hand that summer was a defining moment for you. The way he snatched his hand away from yours would have knocked all the air out of your lungs if you’d had any breath to spare.

—

Laughter echoes off the sides of buildings as you make your way past food stalls and restaurants. It’s warm. A gentle breeze tussles his hair, different strands catching purple and orange light from the store signs.

There are several things that are begging to hold your attention right now. 

A new café to your right is stringing a “Grand Opening” banner across its shop doors. Bike bells ring off in the distance, the wheels gently thrumming against dusty cobblestone. Groups of teenagers snicker as they pass you by, their voices carefree and teasing. Two dogs tread loyally next to their owners on the other side of the street, their claws clicking as their paws hit the pavement. 

But even among all of those distractions and details, all you can see is him. The mop of messy hair atop his head. His umber brown eyes. A curious smile.

Izumi Kenji had stolen your heart slowly and carefully; he did so without a balaclava or a disguise to lure you in. And as you meander the downtown area with him, your fondness for him only grows.

Meeting him at that after-work party may have been the best thing that happened to you this year. You were comfortable - in the middle of a bar, talking to a stranger and laughing with him. And who were you to turn down the one good thing life had sent your way.

Although, with how nonexistent your social life was, you would’ve let almost anyone into your social circle. You just deem yourself lucky that it was Kenji who happened to be in your vicinity.

He’d ended up asking for your number at the end of the night - you rattled off the digits faster than you could blink.

“...if you ever need anything, just send me a text.”

It was an outstretched hand of a sentence. A bone thrown to a starving dog. Finally, there was a person you could rely on.

You took his words to heart.

After that night, it was almost unfair how easily he broke down your barriers. 

It was Kenji who took you sightseeing through all of Osaka in the Winter months, making sure that you’d mapped out the area so that you were more comfortable when you went exploring on your own. Your snow boots and his became well acquainted.

He’d shown you his favorite eateries and shops, rambling quietly about his favorite pastries and old, dusty memories that came from his time spent in the area. 

His jacket made its way to your shoulder when you visibly shuddered from the cold as Winter shifted to Spring. And as Summer approached, you allowed yourself to let your guard down. With distant eyes, you learned about his family and his plans. You wondered if maybe there was a place for you in that future.

Any doubts about this connection you had with him had melted away. 

He was your closest friend by far… and who’s to say he couldn’t be more?

You glance to your left, a small smile working its way onto your lips. Kenji’s eyes wander the street, completely lost in thought. His expression is serene under the violet glow of street lights. 

And his hand… his hand is achingly close to your own.

Its a position you frequently found yourself in: walking side by side, almost touching, but never quite close enough to grasp at his hand. 

You’ve never really seen yourself as someone to make first moves, but this has gone on for too long. And your fingertips are begging you to do something about this distance between you two. 

You swallow hard.

Choking back your hesitation, you brush your hand against his.

He doesn’t pull away, only sending you a quick glance. Kenji’s soft smile doesn’t budge, though he does raise an eyebrow at you.

You assume that this is a good sign. He doesn’t seem uncomfortable, the moment feels natural, and this… this could actually work.

You take one more deep breath and gingerly link your fingers with his-

But before you can even blink, Kenji snaps his hand back to his side. His head whips toward you, feet stopping in their tracks.

“What… what are you doing,” he stammers, eyes widening.

You wince. That wasn’t the reaction you were hoping for. Far from it.

“I think that’s-” You glance down at your rejected hand, eyes wide, “-kind of obvious.”

He stares at you, mouth agape. You take a step back, heart dropping. Why would he pull his hand back? Did I do something wrong-

“I’m seeing someone-” He breathes, “-you knew that.”

Like a tree branch splintering after a lightning strike, you feel as though something inside of you has cracked and split. 

Your body can’t decide if your blood should turn to ice from shock or if it should succumb to the heat of humiliation rising in your chest. How did you not know this?

And why hadn’t you just asked him first? 

That’s what normal people did. If you hadn’t acted based on a silly impulse maybe you would have spoken to him about your relationship with him first… but it’s too late now. And the pressure continues to build up in your stomach until you feel like a balloon on the verge of popping.

“...you knew that… didn’t you?”

Something sharp stabs at your heart.

“I had no idea.” Your reply is flat. Distant.

It twists.

“I- I’m so sorry, I could’ve sworn I’d told you…” He responds softly.

In a tearing motion, it rips back out.

“No. You hadn’t.” You say curtly, eyes glazing over.

You let on to the bitterness welling up in your chest more than you wish you would have… but who could blame you? 

Tucking your hands deep into your pants pockets, you try to hold your composure. 

Your mouth is uncomfortably dry and your hands are suddenly very sweaty. 

What does someone do in a situation like this? 

You’d always assumed that this was the type of thing to happen to somebody else. Thinking that feelings were mutual and then being struck with the fact that your “almost-boyfriend” was actually already deep into a relationship. It sounds like something out of a teenage romance novel... but it’s clear that the shame clouding your mind is not secondhand.

Unintentionally or not, Kenji had led you on… and here you are, feeling like you’ve just been publicly gutted.

He doesn’t owe you anything. No, not at all. 

If anything, you owe him for all of the kindness he’s extended to you. 

But that doesn’t explain everything he’s done for you these past few months. 

Paying for meals even though you’d practically fought him for bills at every restaurant you’d visited together. Spending hours together on weekends when you both had work to complete. Meeting his friends, taking the train together on days when your schedules collided, exploring the city and your past with him…

You’d wondered why he hadn’t asked you out yet.

It didn’t make any sense.

Maybe he was confused too?

A thought crosses your mind that maybe he may have been using you as some sort of support system. Maybe you were just let into his life to comfort him through his own relational instability. Were you just Kenji’s escape? Is he just completely unaware?

But now you’re just jumping to conclusions. It might not be anything of the sort. Trying to piece together a story that doesn’t add up in the first place won’t help you at all - at least, not right after such a blatant rejection.

You take another step back, effectively tuning out anything he has to say. The light on his face no longer reflects something inviting; instead, all you can see is the confusion marring his previously peaceful expression.

He’s trying to talk to you, he’s taking steps toward you, he’s even reaching a hand out… but you just can’t. Not with the discomfort in your chest and a thundercloud of tension rumbling above you.

You can’t remember what shitty excuse you’d made to get out of there, but not even 10 minutes after this awkward, messy, fucked up moment, you’re on a train back home. 

And everything is numb. 

The shuffle and shake of the passenger car is enough to distract you for now.

But the moment you get home - the very second you kick off your shoes - insecurity comes knocking at the door of your mind. 

You lay face down on the couch. The room stirs in darkness, gloom sinking into the cracks of the wall and pooling at the corners of your eyes. Because how was this fair? What had you done to deserve this? Was nothing going to be easy for you?

You let yourself cry.

Questions swim through your mind. Fears too. The pain of, once again, being alone exposes itself through heavy tears and spluttering sobs.

So you attempt to bury it all deep down...

As far from the surface as it can go... 

But as most things do, these questions and insecurities will resurface. 

It’s only a matter of time.

—

You noticed it from the moment you woke up.

The stiffness in your arms and the churning in your stomach were telltale signs… but as the hours rolled on and the sun sunk lower in the sky, it became more obvious. 

Your lungs were fine yesterday, but today they shrink and tighten with every passing minute.

In an attempt to distract yourself, you’ve switched on the TV and turned to Netflix for comfort. It isn’t much, but the modulated noise of a baking show and a warm blanket draped over your lap blocks out some of the dizzying worries in your head.

First date nerves are a thing.

The clammy palms, the jitters, the loss of appetite… you have it all. 

You’re well aware that this is a universal experience, so you try to empathize with yourself. There’s no reason to be embarrassed by it. Shame would only drag you deeper into this muddy pit of nerves that you’re so desperately trying to claw your way out of.

But this technically isn’t even a date. 

And you’re not about to assume that it’s anything like one.

Just to be safe, you’ve decided that this outing would blandly be categorized as a “sporadic meet up with a stranger.” Your words, not Atsumu’s. 

But just because it isn’t technically a date doesn’t mean you can’t be jittery… 

You grip the remote in your hand tighter. It accidentally shuts the TV off, but that’s probably for the better. You haven’t gotten ready yet and it’s getting close to 5 pm. Somehow you’d managed to snuggle the day away in your apartment. Again.

Letting out an anxious yawn, you hop up from your nestled position on the couch.

You step into the hallway and make your way to the bathroom to wash your face. As you patter the length of the hall, you finally allow your mind to roam. It immediately hones in on your anxieties like a dog chasing a delightfully peeved squirrel.

Is it pathetic? To be 20 something years old and petrified by something as simple as a dinner date? 

Your brain says “no,” but a part of you is whispering out a quiet “yes” in response. Most people would be excited to see someone after being lonely for so long. 

So why are you this bothered? What’s with this piercing fragility that makes your hands shake and your skin crawl? 

When did you become so… scared? Like you would crumble just by being in the presence of another person?

And then it hits you. Your head plummets into your hands.

Ever since you’d met Atsumu, you haven’t had the mental stamina to think about Izumi Kenji. 

Or what he’d done to you. Or how he’d metaphorically pushed you when you were already toeing at the precipice of a cliff. You’d been a step away from falling and breaking under the weight of the past few years, and he’d shattered you in a single night.

So, yes, that would explain the current twisting in your chest. It’s also probably why you’re so worried about Atsumu. Or, at least, it’s one big reason as to why, you conclude.

But, even with this epiphany, you find yourself stepping into the bathroom, wrung dry and physically unsteady. Thinking about Kenji doesn’t make you feel any better.

Your fingers grip the rim of the porcelain sink, eyes fixed on the drain in the center. 

You stare at it. 

One reminder of him and you were already weary. 

The glossiness of the bowl reflects a splotchy, humanesque blob back at you. You swivel the faucet handle, letting warm water coast around the bowl and spiral down the drain. It erases that human-like reflection.

If only it could wash away your problems. Now that’d be something to write home about.

The cool of the tile beneath your feet and a splash of warm water on your face is a welcome distraction… but short-lived. The water drips off of your face. You blindly feel around for a fresh towel and, after laying your hands on one, you gently pat your face down.

Blinking your eyes open, you stand up straight.

As you do, you find yourself studying a much clearer reflection than the blurry face in the sink bowl. Sunken features bore into you from the bathroom mirror. You sigh and turn to open up a medicine cabinet to grab a few facial products, applying them one-by-one.

If you do happen to crash and burn tonight, you figure you might as well look damn good in the process. Skincare would help with that.

But before you can further sink into the idea that tonight might turn into another nightmarish scenario, a friendly face, someone sunny and charming, enters your mind. 

The picture Atsumu’s wavy hair and that smug smile of his. While the rest of his face is a little fuzzy in your mind, you vividly remember how his mouth quirk upwards and the electric buzz you felt from the sheer warmth of his eyes.

Atsumu has been on your mind a lot these days. And, as much as it’s been a distraction, it’s also been a welcome mental detour. 

Somehow, the very thought of him coaxes your own lips to relax into a smile. You sigh, tilting your head back in defeat. So this is what 3 years of loneliness can do to a person - how embarrassing.

But you can’t deny that he gives you something to look forward to - an emotion you can’t quite put your finger on. You two share a connection; there’s some common ground that hasn’t been dug up just yet. And, for whatever it’s worth, you want to keep digging until you figure it out.

As you smooth a moisturizer over your skin, you decide that you’ll wear something nice tonight. Maybe you’ll pick out an outfit you haven’t worn before and do your best to drown your shaky hands in the fabric of a long-sleeved shirt. If it goes well, maybe you’ll have found someone who actually likes you.

If it doesn’t work out, you can just drive back home and forget he ever existed. Simple as that.

But... 

You’d like to think that Atsumu could be just as sweet as he seems; assuming the worst about him would get you nowhere.

You continue to repeat that to yourself before you leave. That all you can do is hope it goes well. 

Nothing more, nothing less. 

—

You rest your foot firmly on the brake and switch the gearshift so that your car is in park. You rub your eyes and double-check the location on your phone’s GPS. Back at your apartment, it looked like you would be arriving at a café near the park… but you’re not so sure anymore.

Did… did Atsumu really send you here?

You never entertained the idea of him being a prankster… but if this was, perhaps, a practical joke? Well, you’re not above calling him and telling him to “fuck off.” There’s nothing stopping you from driving away and blocking his number right now.

Scrolling through the map application, you notice that you’re relatively close to several restaurants, so there is that. He’d promised you dinner and there’s an abundance of food within walking distance.

But you weren’t expecting to pull up to such a secluded location. You shiver in your seat and grip the steering wheel. Does he realize just how scary it is to meet someone at a random place like this?

Whipping out your phone, you tap a quick message containing something along the lines of “why the hell did you send me to a park.” Your therapist would probably give you a high-five for being so straightforward.

You hit send and sink into your chair. 

A brief glance out your car window helps to settle your frayed nerves just a hair. 

It’s not quite as empty as you thought it was. The area is just… calm. Many couples stroll along the main path, hand-in-hand. Others are sat on picnic blankets, tucking their toes into the cool grass and chattering away. 

And, most comfortingly of all, it’s still bright outside. 

You thank the sun that it still rests above the horizon, drenching the trees tops and green grass with deep-honey hues. People and daylight mean safety. You’ve had to learn that after living alone for so long.

A text notification pings on your phone only seconds after messaging him. 

You’ll give him some credit. Atsumu is a timely texter. You’ve found yourself in more real-time texting conversations with him than almost anyone else you’ve met in Osaka. And it’s been how long since you met him? A few weeks? A month?

Atsumu’s text reassures you that you’re not at the wrong place.

At least the park was intentional, you nod to yourself. You’re doing your best to trust that he wouldn’t take you somewhere that would make you uncomfortable.

Another text informs you that he’s already seated on a bench near where you parked.

Your heart skips a beat and your head jolts upward, scanning the area. A hand also shoots up to clutch at your chest, gripping the fabric of your top. 

Yep. You’re still jumpy.

But this time, the shaky hands and pounding nerves are rooted in restlessness instead of fear… and maybe a little bit of excitement?

Suddenly, the park is far less frightening.

You step out of the car, wallet and keys in one hand, and smooth out your outfit with your free hand. The wind nips at you through the fabric of your clothes, but with the sunshine painting your skin, it isn’t too bad. 

Maybe bringing a coat would’ve been wiser than relying on this sweater to keep you warm… but it’s too late to think about that now.

Your eyes dart around and you trod through the grass and onto a graveled pathway. It crunches satisfyingly underneath your feet, but you can’t enjoy it when you’re so intent on finding him. With a few short strides, you’re quick to spot the back of someone’s head. A familiar head of blonde waves shines golden thanks to the setting sun. 

You’re almost entirely sure it’s Atsumu.

And as if he had sensed your presence, the man in question tilts a glance over his shoulder.

His face is blank until he catches your eye. 

An easy grin, one brighter than the stars, bursts into existence.

For someone so conventionally attractive, he sure looks excited to see little ole you. Raising your hand, you wave and send him a shy smile back.

He’s quick to jump to his feet and as he does, you’re quickly reminded of just how tall he is. Atsumu’s head matches the height of several tree branches. It makes you think that he’s probably walked into a number of things. Door headers, branches, signs that are hung a couple of inches too low… you’re sure he’s learned to duck and dodge over the years.

You wish you could ask him about that.

You blink.

That’s right. You can ask him about that - you’ll do that later, though.

“Hey there.” He chuckles.

His voice… it’s huskier than you’d remembered.

You spoke with him over the phone just yesterday to confirm that tonight was still happening, so why was his voice giving you chills now? It’s deep and smooth and, without the static from the phone audio, it’s actually kind of sexy.

Okay, you’ve got to calm down.

“Hi,” you reply sweetly, tilting your head.

Should you hug him? Just keep standing there? Hopefully, he’s better at filling awkward silence than you are. You’re not bad at handling social situations, but it seems safer to wait for his cues.

Atsumu keeps his hands in his pockets, “Long time, no see.” 

It’s phrased as if you were both old friends reuniting after years of distance. It kind of feels that way too.

“I don’t actually think it’s been that long.” You raise an eyebrow, keeping a straight face.

“It’sa turn of phrase, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart.

That word sounds so easy on his tongue, damn it.

A few beats pass… and both of you break into grins once again.

But before you can respond, and much to your confusion, Atsumu spins on his feels to face the pathway. The pebbles under his feet shift as he takes a few steps forward.

He turns his head to catch your eye, “Well? C’mon then, let’s walk and talk,” and juts an arm out.

You stare at him for a moment, confused. 

“Are ya gonna leave me hangin’? Atsumu tilts his head back, a coy smile on his lips as though whatever he’s trying to do is ridiculously obvious.

After a few moments of deep contemplation, realization dawns over your features. He’s extending his elbow out… for you? To hold onto?

Oh.

With a slight flush, you step forth and link arms with him. He grins down at you, perfectly resembling a fox you saw in a National Geographic magazine last week. This is a lot closer than you’d anticipated on getting with him; not that you’re complaining.

Although, for someone you’ve only met twice, you feel like you’ve known him for years. 

The few phone calls and those text conversations have given you some insight into his life, but they don’t explain why you two click so well in person. He’s illogically familiar.

You decide not to question the closeness and instead choose to spark a conversation. 

That should be easy enough; after all, he’d promised you dinner, and you were given directions to a park - you’re anything but questionless.

You lean into his side slightly and break the silence, “You smell good.” 

Considering he’s crossed that line with you already, you aren’t too worried about saying it back to him. 

“Thanks, I showered.” He smiles and shrugs as if to brush off your compliment, but you swear you see a fleeting blush on his cheeks.

“Thank God.” You sigh in mock relief, relaxing your shoulders.

He squints, clicking his tongue, “Okay, no need to tease. At least get to know a guy first,” but his voice is void of offense.

“So if I tease you, you won’t take me to dinner?” A curious tone rings in your voice.

“Oh, I will even if ya do. Where do ya think we’re walkin’ to?”

You snort, “Hopefully a restaurant?”

“Bull’s eye.” He winks.

Atsumu looks down at you and you can’t help but smile up at him. Your nerves had melted away like a popsicle under a blazing summer sun; all that’s left is a sweet, melty feeling that has you feeling a little too comfortable.

Maybe you shouldn’t be so trusting. Protecting yourself has been your number one goal since Kenji let you down…

But that doesn’t mean you can’t laugh or get to know Atsumu. 

It just means you need to keep your expectations in check. This may seem like a date, but until he says something, you won’t jump to conclusions. In the meantime, you just need to keep talking. Enjoy it while it lasts and laugh a little.

You nudge his side, “By the way…”

“Hm?”

“What’s with bringing me to a park?”

You’ve been dying to hear this explanation since you arrived. Sure, the atmosphere is perfect; fall weather is notorious for pleasant walks and colorful leaves. However, you’d like to hear his reasoning.

“I thought we could get to know each other better before stuffin’ our faces.”

You make a face, “Well, doesn’t that sound lovely. You sure have a way with words.” 

Atsumu is nothing if not blunt.

He pouts, eyes narrowing, “You gonna make fun of the way I talk now? I’ll have you know, I’ve been mocked enough to last me a life time. I ain’t all that sensitive anymore.”

You laugh and subconsciously tighten your hold on his arm. 

“Alright Mr. Not Sensitive, I won’t make fun of you anymore.”

If you were paying attention to his face, you might’ve seen another flush of pink… but your eyes are squinting from the sun and Atsumu is sure to pull himself together before you can notice it.

“But I do have some important questions for you,” You begin.

Those words are sure to spark fear into anybody. This is confirmed when his arm stiffens ever so slightly and your eyes crinkle in mischief.

He swallows, “Yeah, go for it.”

“Favorite color?”

Atsumu’s eyes flick down to yours, squinting. They seem to say, “important, my ass.”

He instantly loosens, “Easy. Red.” Confidence is clear in his tone.

You nod. You don’t have to know him well to know that the answer suits him. Atsumu is fiery and he’s burned bright in your mind since you met him. If anyone should be allowed to like red, it’s him.

“Favorite food?”

“Mmm…” He furrows his brows in deliberation, “ I gotta say fatty tuna. But my brother makes some killer onigiri, though. I think that’s a close second.”

Your brows shoot up, eyes widening. He’d never mentioned anything about his family before this.

“You have a brother?” You press, leaning in to study his face while trying not to trip over your own two feet.

“Technically, a twin. But I’m the older one...” He huffs, “...and the better lookin’ one.”

Your jaw drops. “I can’t believe you hadn’t mentioned him before this!” 

As an only child, you can only imagine what it’d be like to have a sibling, much less a twin. 

“Well,” Atsumu rolls his eyes at you, “He’s alright…”

It looks like he’s about to change the subject, but one glance at your face is all it takes for him to realize that you want to hear more. Your eyes are sparkling. Full of vibrant curiosity… how could he stop now?

You’re actually interested in him.

“We’re really close actually,” Atsumu clears his throat, straightening up a little. “I mean, he isn’t like me at all. He’s real’ calm in comparison. A great cook. Some people say he’s handsome - but he got the looks from me, y’know?”

You roll your eyes, keeping in stride with him. “Yeah, yeah, keep going.”

“He’s good with the ladies, smart, athletic...” He rambles on. “If he’d just slow down a little, he would probably be married by now...”

You just listen, fully invested in his words. 

It’s nice to hear about family - you haven’t seen your’s in a long time. 

The fondness in Atsumu’s expression seeps through his abbreviated words. 

He looks almost pained as he compliments his twin and amusement flickers in your eyes as you watch it all unfold. You hadn’t asked for a dating profile description of his brother, but you’re not about to shut him up.

“I bet you’d like him. Not as much as you’d like me, of course,” he smirks and your chest tightens. 

The butterflies you’d thought you’d left back in highschool seem to have dusted themselves off and started fluttering again.

“But, yeah. He’s a good guy.”

Atsumu’s free hand then runs through his hair, pushing the waves back. You can see a sudden onset of nerves on his face. He’s quick to hide it though.

“And, uh, just so you know… he may or may not own the restaurant I’m taking you to tonight.”

That’s enough for you plant your feet in place. Atsumu stops as well. 

He’s… taking you to his brother’s restaurant.

You gaze up at him, at a loss for words.

Is his brother going to be there? I mean, it is his place. But meeting his family? Out of the blue, like this? It’s all out of order. 

You can’t help but wonder if he’s ever going to give your racing heart a chance to settle.

“Is that too much?” Atsumu is quick to cut in. His voice isn’t gentle… but even with it’s roughness, you can hear something that resembles concern.

“A- ah, no! It’s fine!” You reassure him, “I… I’m happy to go.”

His shoulders drop down again and so do yours.

There’s no point in getting worked up about it. But it’s becoming clear that Atsumu isn’t a very conventional person. Nor is he daunted by sporadic plans. Next time, you’ll ask for a point-by-point itinerary, just to be safe.

Atsumu reveals the name of the restaurant, “Onigiri Miya,” and you find yourself asking more family-related questions as you two dawdle down the pathway…

Which naturally leads to conversations about high-school.

It turns out that he and his twin were on a volleyball team together. Which makes sense. He definitely has the muscle, the height, and the spunk to be an athlete. 

You know shit about the sport, but that doesn’t mean you don’t see the gleam in his eyes when he rattles off a story about one of his old games. It’s been a long time since you last listened to someone speak about something so passionately.

But there’s even more. 

You hear mentions of many boys’ names. 

There’s his brother, Osamu; he mentions their little spats and occasional fist fights. Although he makes sure to clarify that they’re both a lot more level headed nowadays. Next is Atsumu’s upperclassman, Kita; he’s someone Atsumu respects and fears with every inch of his being. Then there’s Suna, Omimi, Aran, and… too many others to count.

Games and nationals and several terms you can’t quite grasp swim through your head as you re-live some of Atsumu’s own memories with him.

His high-school years sound exciting, bright, and funny. Of course, those experiences would create the charming mess that is Atsumu Miya.

After padding under draping treetops, you both finally make it out of the park and onto the sidewalks. 

Restaurants and small shops line the streets and pedestrians cross in groups across the narrow roads. At this point, the sun is loosing its shine, sinking beneath the trees’ branches and ever-darkening buildings. But you, with your phone in your pocket and your arm in his, feel safe. 

Atsumu’s effortlessness and his blunt way of speaking really made for easy conversation. 

But before you can ask him if he still plays volleyball, you find yourself standing in front of a small, bright storefront: “Onigiri Miya.” The words are plastered on a wooden board in white, chalk paint. It’s sleek and cute - if you’d stumbled upon the shop before this, you’d have walked in of your volition.

“I’m thinkin’ I just talked your ear off the whole way here.” Atsumu sighs apologetically.

You shrug, “I guess that just means I’m a good listener.”

In all honestly, you’re glad he rambled. It got rid of your restlessness and calmed your racing thoughts.

He unlinks your arm from his and your side is now exposed to the cold air. It only just hits you how physical that walk had been. Even without a coat, having him at your side had kept you warm and cozy.

How long has it been since you were comfortably side-by-side with someone? It’s been months since you’d been around Kenji… years since you last slept with someone you actually liked… but when was the last time you held a hand or wrapped your arm around someone else’s? 

Atsumu’s words cut into your thoughts, “You’re easy to talk to, but I wanna hear more about you when we get inside.” 

And he’s holding the door open for you, one hand clasped around the handle and the other tucked casually into his pocket. You thank him… he didn’t give you the impression of being “gentlemanly” or whatever that word meant, but you find the gesture to be sweet. 

As you step inside the small restaurant, your senses are overtaken by the smell of freshly cooked rice and an explosion of delicious seasonings. There are bar stools open at the front counter and metal chairs surrounding worn-down wooden tables. The atmosphere is homely and diner-like; as though, no matter how often you actually visited, you would be treated as a regular.

Someone calls out from the back, “C’mon in, I cleared the place out for y’all.”

The voice resembles Atsumu’s style of speech; gruff and straight to the point… but a little smoother. Then you realize what that voice had actually said. There’s nobody else here.

“Alright, we’ll make ourselves at home then. I can take your-”

He scans you for a jacket… that doesn’t exist.

“You didn’t bring a coat.” He says flatly.

You glance down at your outfit, grasping the edge of your sweater and feathering a thumb over its seam.

“I forgot one.” You admit, looking back up to him, “Why? Is that a problem?”

“Nah, I was just gonna offer to take it.”

You hadn’t noticed what he’d been wearing before this, but now that you’re under the soft lighting of the restaurant, you realize he’s dressed up a little. 

Atsumu removes a short, tan coat and places it onto the back of a chair. A black turtleneck sweater is revealed underneath. The fabric outlines his chest and arms in the most unfair way while the dark color pleasantly contrasts his lighter skin tone. 

How hadn’t you noticed how gut-wrenchingly attractive he was before this? 

With how fast things were moving and how comfortable you felt talking to him, you must’ve conveniently glossed over this fact. It’s not like you’d planned on getting to know him.

But now that you do? Well, it doesn’t hurt that he basically has the body of Chris Hemsworth. Atsumu’s definitely not some Walmart version of him though - this boy deserves his own brand of attractiveness.

You swallow hard as your eyes trail his body.

“Like whatcha see?”

You startle, shuffling backward. If you weren’t already out of your element, you sure are now. Caught red-handed (red-eyed?) staring at your not-date. 

“Awh, c’mon I’m joking - take a seat,” Atsumu pulls a chair out for you, cringing when it lets out a shrill squeak on the floor. The sound rings through the air and you find yourself laughing.

In a swift motion, you jump up and onto the chair.

He slides the chair back toward the bar counter, except this time you both expect the screeching of the chair’s legs. It’s worse than nails on a chalkboard, but it’s perfect for loosening up any tightness in the airspace. This time, it’s his turn to chuckle.

He mutters out a quick, “Sorry,” but you just shake your head, amused.

Snagging his own chair, and this time lifting it off of the ground to avoid bursting another eardrum, Atsumu slides up next to you.

You lean on the counter, a hand propping up your cheek. “That was very smooth, Atsumu.”

“Thanks,” he rolls his eyes, “I try.”

“‘Tsumu? Smooth? Yeah, right,” that same voice travels from the kitchen to the front of the store.

Footsteps are soon to follow it and you’re greeted by Chris Hemsworth 2.0. Maybe you should refer to him as Liam Hemsworth? Nope, Osamu, you quickly decide, is also his own genre of attractive.

Although Osamu is dressed in a simple, black “Onigiri Miya” t-shirt and cap, he could probably be a Calvin Klein model. For someone who owns a restaurant, his muscle tone is absolute perfection - these brothers are really something. 

And their resemblance of each other, though twins, is almost uncanny. You thank some unknown force that hair-dye exists, because if you saw them from a distance, you may not be able to tell them apart.

“Ah, shaddup. You’re just sayin’ that cuz you’re jealous,” the blonde snorts.

“Jealous of what? Your shit attempts at flirtin’?”

“That’s below the belt, ‘Samu. Don’t be such an ass.”

‘Tsumu? ‘Samu? That’s cute, you chuckle to yourself. Of course, these guys would have nicknames for each other. It was common sense.

You sit back as they bicker, wondering who must’ve raised these 6-foot chaotic giants. You’d love to meet them just to give them a medal and a bouquet of flowers for putting up with them. They must’ve dealt with so much bullshit.

“I could say the same to you. Ya haven’t properly introduced me yet.” He nods his head toward you, cool-grey eyes warming up when they meet yours.

Your lips quirk into a smile and before you know it, you’ve introduced yourself. 

He copies your smile, though it’s much softer than your own, and begins his own little introduction; although you’re sure that, with all the information Atsumu has already listed off to you, you don’t really need one.

“I’m Miya Osamu, but that’s probably obvious by now,” he adjusts his cap, “Callin’ me Miya would be confusin’ for all of us, so just Osamu’s fine.”

He’s polite and carries himself confidently, but his voice is a little softer than Atsumu’s. Or, it is when he’s speaking to you. There’s a brotherly gentleness to his tone and it relaxes you instantly.

“Please keep in mind that I’m the better twin,” Atsumu adds, shooting daggers at his brother.

Osamu shoots them right back, but you don’t fail to notice the playful fondness behind their eyes. You can almost picture them as kids, with band-aids on their knees and mud on their clothes. They make it seem like being twins meant having a built-in best friend.

Their closeness is overwhelming. 

There’s a warmth in the atmosphere, and you’re positive that it’s not just because something’s cooking in the kitchen. It feels special, just being allowed to sit and watch them banter. 

And the fact that Atsumu is sharing this with you?

Well, you’re counting yourself very lucky to be here right now.

[avengershumanresources]

blood 9 - Strange/Stark!Reader

Relationship: Dr. Strange/Princess!Stark!Reader

Rating: M

Warnings: Adult Themes, smut, adult language, implied sexual violence, general violence

Synopsis: Reader is the daughter of the legendary King Anthony Stark, Uniter of Lands, The Iron Defender, and leader of the realm. When the king disappears during battle, hope is lost and he is presumed dead.

When the late king’s uncle, Obadiah, takes the throne until your brother Peter is of age, he quickly arranges a marriage for you with a wicked king in a neighboring kingdom.

With the realms politics in question, and rumors of an upcoming siege to overthrow Peter’s rule before it starts, you quickly learn who is loyal to the crown and who is not.

part 8 - part 10

Masterlist

Chapter Playlist

WARNING: Mention of violence/attempted assault from prior chapter

9 - a king’s arrival

Thank the gods Loki crossed Stephen’s path first, because things were happening far more quickly than the sorcerer had anticipated. He had heard a particularly chilling rumor upon his return to the castle from surveying the magical barriers with Amora and was in route to your quarters to check on you. 

Loki intercepted him and caught him up to what had happened.

Loki had told Peter the details of what he’d stumbled upon between you and Brock. Immediately inflamed, Peter started in motion the rebellion he’d been planning with Nat and the guard. With the Asgardian army’s support, Peter could easily usurp the throne from Obadiah by the end of the night. 

Especially now that the alliance between him and Brock was in question with the betrothal in a murky area. 

Less than twelve hours, Stephen calculated while Loki kept pace with him toward your room. That’s all it took for the plans to go into motion and the next steps to proceed.

“He didn’t-,” Stephen asked after they’d arrived, his anger simmering and threatening to boil based off of his companions response. He needed to keep control. He needed to kept his head or risk you falling into harm.

“No,” Loki stated clearly. “It was stopped before he finished his task. Her seidr did well to protect her. You acted in good judgment by not fully sealing it.”

“Amora?” he pressed and Loki smirked back at him. 

“She’s been tending to Brock the last hour, but I’m certain they won’t have time to rally a guard to their cause,” he explained quickly. “My men outnumber theirs two to one, and from what Natalia has told me, the majority of the guard will support Peter.” He paused and glanced around, lowering his voice.

“Besides, even if they mobilize troops, after you finish your part, Brock will have nothing else to gain from an alliance with Obadiah.”

“And the queen and younger princess?” Stephen’s hand rested on the knob of your door. Eyes shut while he listened to Loki’s report.

“James is with them now,” Loki nodded. “They’ll be moved once Peter makes the first move. I’m meeting with Thor before dinner to confirm some of the entry points to the castle in case Obadiah tries to deter us once things get.. chaotic.”

Perfect. Everything was falling into place, and you were none the wiser, which meant neither were your enemies. 

Loki disappeared once Stephen summoned a tray of stew and started through the door, unsure how he’d find you on the other side. 

Personally, Stephen wanted to rip Brock to shreds. He wanted to cut the skin off of him and sprinkle salts and other acids over open wounds and watch him scream. He wanted to gauge his eyes out, fling him from the tallest balcony, and listen to his cries for mercy. 

It wasn’t a pride thing. Stephen wasn’t the least bit upset that you’d been sullied or marked by another man, no, he was upset because he’d hurt you. 

And seeing the aftershocks for himself only further fueled Stephen’s rage. 

You were in a sleeping gown, hair pulled loose, legs curled into yourself, fully submerged in your bedding. When he set the tray of food down on a nearby table and stirred you, his heart broke at your swollen eyelids and red, glossy eyes. 

He should have been there sooner. 

“Stephen?” you asked sleepily. You clearly cried yourself into exhaustion, your cheeks still puffy from the ordeal.

“My love,” he sat on the edge of the bed and fully enveloped you in his arms. You were a bit tense at first, but immediately sank into him when he started rubbing soothing circles into your back. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there.”

“It’s not your fault-,” you murmured with a small hiccup and a sigh. Pulling away, you looked up miserably toward him. “He’s a monster... we knew that. I shouldn’t have sent Steve to find you.”

Stephen stopped, taking your hand and pressing his lips to your palm, cradling the shaking digits tenderly. 

“You did nothing wrong,” he stated firmly. “A lady shouldn’t have to fear her company- her betrothed- would... dishonor her in such a horrendous manner. You were brave and defended yourself. I’m proud of you for being so strong.”

Your eyes watered again, your bottom lip trembling. A few tears snuck down your face and before you could wipe at them angrily, Stephen caught them with his thumb, his hands moving to cradle your cheeks. 

“Loki... he said he would fix it... is everything...?” you asked meekly and despite the gnawing feeling that lying to left him, he nodded. 

“All is under control,” he assured you softly. “Why don’t you have some stew and continue resting?”

“Will you stay?” you asked, gripe tightening around his hand. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” he promised, pressing a kiss to your forehead and helping you settle into bed, before handing off the tray. 

He sat next to you while you picked at your food, listening while you told him about what had transpired in the garden earlier and how your seidr had reacted when you’d fought Brock off. 

“Loki was right,” he noted, passing you a slice of bread from the tray. “It was lucky Amora was off the grounds when that happened. She would have noticed and retaliated immediately.”

You hummed to yourself, dipping the corner of the bread into the stew and taking a small nibble. 

He could tell you were still out of sorts, the fresh exchange with Brock having come so unexpectedly and traumatically. More than anything, he wished he didn’t have to do what happened next. 

“Here,” he finally relented when you barely touched your meal, pulling the tray aside and out of the way. “You should sleep.” 

“I’ve rested plenty,” you protested, but after a pause, gave in and snuggled deeper into your blankets. 

“I’ve got something that should help,” he pulled out the small glass vial, holding it between his fingers for you to examine. The liquid inside shimmered an almost stunning cobalt blue against the light from your fireplace.

“A sleeping draught?” you guessed, reaching for the vial and examining it for yourself. 

“Not quite a sleeping draught,” he explained, plucking the cork free and letting you give the scentless liquid a sniff. “It’ll relax you enough to let you ease into a full and restful sleep.”

“So, a sleeping draught?” you teased with a small grin, swirling the liquid in the bottle with a tilt of your hand.. 

“Call it what you’d like, but it’ll help. You just drink the whole vial,” he instructed, watching you consider it briefly. 

“Am I going to fall into an eternal enchanted sleep?” you asked, joking, but unaware of how close to the truth you were. “Like the old stories?” 

“It won’t be eternal,” he assured you with a forced chuckle, settling his hands at his side so you wouldn’t see him shaking. This was it. The most crucial part of the plan. “You’ll wake with a full night’s rest. It’ll help you feel a little better.”

“At least that’ll help me face him tomorrow,” you murmured, swallowing the contents of the vial in a single gulp. You let out a yawn. “Don’t leave until... sleep..?” 

Your eyes were already fluttering shut and he plucked the bottle out of your hand before it broke on the ground. 

“Stephen?” you asked again, voice laced with sleepiness. “I love you.”

“And I you, princess,” he choked out, standing and pressing a final kiss to your head. “Please know I do this all out of love.”

You mumbled something incoherent before your body fell unnaturally still, the potions effects quickly taking over. 

He had to work fast. Waving his hands over your body, he changed your night dress to the outfit you’d worn earlier with Brock. 

The image made him sick. Your skirt was covered in blood, the corset nearly ripped off your frame- fortunately, your recent tears had swollen your face and reddened it more.

He positioned you delicately above the blankets, draping your hand over the edge of the bed and wrapping the vial carefully in your slack fingers. 

He dug through your nearby desk for some parchment and enchanted a quill to mimic your handwriting. A final goodbye, as far as anyone was concerned.

After all, the events had been so traumatic to you, you’d raided Stephen’s observatory and crafted a deadly poison to kill yourself. 

And aside from him, Tony, Loki, and Wanda- everyone would think it was effective, in turn, removing you from harms way while the castle was reclaimed.

Not even Peter nor Natalia was privy to what he and his fellow magic users had planned. 

Once the coast was clear and your body was taken to the family tomb, Wanda would bring you back to his ancestral home, now occupied by your father’s rebel army. 

Stephen couldn’t imagine you were going to be pleased with his dishonesty, particularly after drugging you and keeping your father’s survival to himself, but at least you’d be safe. 

And in the end, that’s all that mattered. 

Satisfied with the scene he’d crafted, Stephen removed the dining tray with a wave of his hand and portaled outside of the kitchens where he intercepted your personal maid, Violet. 

“The princess is unwell,” he explained, letting the princess expression of solemn sympathy flash across her features. “Could you bring her a tray for dinner?”

No one would know he’d crossed your path, and Amora would be too focused on healing Brock to notice any non-seidr magical ongoings around the castle. 

Excusing himself to his own quarters, Stephen cleaned himself up for dinner... and a show. 

(—)

“The princess-!” he heard Clint call into the dining room that evening. Pepper had excused herself from the meal to tend to the suddenly ill with pox, Princess Morgan. 

Brock had the audacity to actually join the group, with Amora smiling dutifully at his side while he and Obadiah discussed trade routes. 

Loki and Thor had graciously accepted the kings invitation, and as usual, Stephen was in his place next to Peter. 

“What is it?” Obadiah demanded sharply. 

“She’s-,” he paused looking to Brock with unease. “Your majesty, the princess has killed herself.”

Stephen waited until someone else reacted first, putting on the most confused and dismayed expression he could manage. 

“Take me to her,” he demanded with Peter hot on his footsteps.

Sure enough, you were still laying in bed. Someone (probably Violet) had folded your hands over your chest delicately, and placed the empty vial next to your note. 

Stephen made a show of checking you for signs of life, even offering Amora a chance to give a second opinion. 

Fortunately, he was that good at what he did. 

The potion mimicked the effects of death so well, even the enchantress was shocked by the sudden turn of events. He could tell she was trying to feel out any signs of your seidr, but after a brief pause, turned to confirm the truth to her king. 

Loki hissed a curse under his breath and turned on Brock, knife in hand, pressing the cowering king against the wall, demanding justice for the premature death of his bride. 

Peter, for his part remained composed. He ordered that he be the one to inform the queen, and parted with his fists clenched at his sides and his eyes filled with fire. 

“This is... a tragedy,” Obadiah knelt by your bedside, nudging Stephen aside and taking your hand into his. “So young and just before her wedding. A cruel circumstance of the fates!”

Stephen could have sworn he heard Loki snort at the dramatic scene the king was putting forth. 

Thor had managed to pry the prince and king apart, demanding Amora  “remove the villain from his sight before he changed his mind”, leaving the two Asgardian princes, Stephen, and Obadiah alone in the chamber.

“Is there no saving her?” the king asked quietly, looking up to Stephen with a desperate frown. “I know what she was to you. Tell me, is there truly no hope?”

Stephen cleared his throat, letting a slight break in his voice crackle as he spoke. 

“My grace, I’m familiar with the poison, and Enchantress Amora will confirm my words,” he looked down at you with a heartbroken sigh. “The princess was well aware of the potion she was consuming. There is no return. My most sincere apologies for your loss, your highness.”

Obadiah nodded to himself, standing back up. 

“Then the kingdom goes into mourning,” he stated decidedly. “Alert the priests, and have the maids prepare her for viewing.”

He looked at the Odinson brothers, a small sneer tugging at his expression. 

“Perhaps we can renegotiate our trade deal,” he suggested, earning a snarl of insults from Thor. 

The room now empty and the door closed while maids and servants scurried about with the news outside, the two sorcerers exchanged a look. 

“You did well, the effects are convincing,” Loki lifted your arm and let it drop to the bed. “You’ve accounted for rigor mortis?” 

“Brother?” Thor stepped forward, lips pressed together tightly as he took in the exchange. “Surely this isn’t another of your tricks?”

“Of course not,” Stephen waved a glowing hand over your body, a small spell that would mimic the effects of rigor mortis, and eventually wear off as the natural sensation would in time. “This trick is mine.”

He repositioned your hand delicately over your chest. 

“Is the princess... asleep?” Thor lowered his voice. 

“In a sense,” Loki patted his brothers arm. “Keep it to yourself, brother. We need Peter’s fury if this is to go as planned.”

“But she’ll be moved to the crypt-,” Thor started and paused, a knowing smile on his face. “I see. Let me know if I can be of assistance.”

The door swung open and Pepper swept inside with a quiet, red haired, maid behind her. 

“The loss is truly a tragedy of our time,” Thor continued, putting on a better performance than Loki and Stephen combined. “The beast that pushed this beautiful maid to an early grave must face justice!” 

He slammed a fist against your armoire, meeting Peter’s gaze with a passionate nod when the prince reappeared to comfort his mother. 

“Morgan can’t know until the morning,” Pepper stated, her eyes were wide in horro, her voice wavering. “I want that man out of my home.”

She looked between Thor, Loki, and Peter, the men nodding curtly and excusing themselves from the space. 

“Stephen, dear Stephen,” Pepper took his hand. “I’m sorry.”

It was a genuine reaction that, admittedly, startled the sorcerer. He’d had suspicions that the queen had known about the two of you- and you’d as much confirmed them earlier in the evening- but the way she looked to him with such earnest sympathy made him realize something. 

The queen had stood in his very place not even a few months prior. 

She too, had lost the love of her life to senseless violence at the hands of King Brock Rumlow. 

It was no wonder she wanted the king out of her sight. 

“If it’s comfort to know, it was painless and peaceful,” he mumbled with a nod toward the vial. “She fell asleep and felt nothing.”

“That will bring me some peace,” Pepper murmured, eyes returning to your still form. “Thank you.”

She reached for his hand and gave it a tight squeeze before asking that she be left alone with you for a few moments to mourn. 

“Take the time you need,” he stated softly, managing to blink back tears in his own eyes. 

Leaving the room, the countdown began. 

You’d be awake in four days, and he needed to ensure you were out in the family crypt and removed to safety in that time. 

Loki would prod Peter to remove Brock by force, and depending on how the king responded, would likely expedite any funeral plans for you. 

Who would have time to mourn when the castle descended into chaos? 

The queen and younger princess would be removed for their safety and then the real challenge began. 

Getting Peter onto the throne.

“Did you know she would do this?” Natalia asked, pulling Stephen aside after leaving the queen. She caught tugged on his arm furiously. “Stephen, look at me!”

Natalia would be the most difficult to convince. He knew it from the beginning. She was your oldest friend and most trusted confidant. 

“I... she assured me she was going to be fine,” he kept his eyes low, guilty even, if she looked at him too carefully. “We spoke briefly after Loki had informed me... I shouldn’t have let her out of my sight. She’s said she’d wanted to rest.”

“And then you asked Violet to bring her a meal?” Natalia questioned, eyes narrowing. “It’s not like you to leave the princess behind when she’s distressed.”

“I don’t think she was particularly pleased with my gender at the time,” he shot back. “Please excuse me, I’d like some time alone with my thoughts.”

He parted abruptly, praying to himself that Natalia wouldn’t dig around too deeply and ruin this whole charade. 

(—)

Across the kingdom, just outside of the House Strange keep, Wanda lightly touched Tony’s shoulder, eyes glowing bright crimson. 

“It’s happened,” she informed him. “The dawn truly brings a new day.”

“And a new king,” Tony grunted. “I just hope Peter is ready.”

(--)

10 - a trick

TAG LIST (message to be added!):

@ayamenimthiriel @ladynothing​ @im-a-bi-disaster-help​ @idkwhatthisislol

[lifblogs]

Livin In You: Chapter 11

Fandom: Supernatural Pairing: Destiel Rating: Explicit Chapter Word Count: 2130 Summary: Castiel is a mental health worker who is just fine with the way his life is. The only thing that really bugs him is how much his co-worker, and friend, Meg, mentions Dean Winchester, the most famous rock star in the modern age. Meg drags him to a concert, and he ends up getting tied into the wild and angsty life of Dean Winchester. Suddenly his old life seems boring, but so much calmer. Suddenly, it matters to him that he's still a virgin. Suddenly, this rock star that he despised the mention of, now matters to him. Dean Winchester is a rockstar who's on top of the world when it comes to music. Yet there's more that he wants. He misses Lisa and Ben, he craves connection, craves being himself. Any hope for that amidst his alcoholic life all changes when Zachariah, the head exec of Heaven's Records, pairs with a new exec, Michael Edlund -- the Archangel of Music. Under Michael's dominance, he's no longer in control of his own life. There are rules.  CHAPTER 1 | CHAPTER 2 | CHAPTER 3 | CHAPTER 4 | CHAPTER 5 | CHAPTER 6 | CHAPTER 7 | CHAPTER 8 | CHAPTER 9 | CHAPTER 10

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Castiel didn’t go hide in the closet. No, he was not going to do that. He wasn’t some teenage boy who’d snuck into his boyfriend’s room and now had to hide because their dad was checking up on them. And he certainly wasn’t going to treat the situation that way.

But Dean was anxious. He had had a slight flush to his cheeks, had seemed to be breathing with his mouth open a bit more.

So Castiel listened to him for now until things could get explained.

He stayed in the bedroom, away from the doors in case his silhouette would be seen. But he stayed close enough to listen in.

Castiel didn’t even stop to ask himself why he was listening in, or if he actually wanted to stick around after to figure out just what the hell Dean Winchester had gotten himself into.

He just listened.

“Michael, wow,” Dean’s voice came from the other side of the door, growing quieter as he walked away. “I can’t believe I actually get to meet you, the Archangel of Music.”

An easy laugh left the other man, and Castiel decided he did not like it. It wasn’t dread that he felt, knowing this wasn’t his situation to deal with, but there was something off about that laugh, like it had been practiced. What kind of person needed to practice a laugh? In Castiel’s mind, that just spoke of someone being either nervous or maliciously in power. He knew it wasn’t the first option.

“Can’t believe they call me that,” he said. “No need for any of that here. I just wanted to see you with my own eyes. I’ve heard about you non-stop since I joined with Zachariah. You wouldn’t believe the praise he has for you.”

Dean sounded cautious and disbelieving when he said, “Oh, really?”

“Now that I see you, it’s like you’re practically made for me.”

“Excuse me?”

“To work for me. Perfect rock star image, and your music is just genius.”

“Oh, uh… thank you.”

Sam cleared his throat — he seemed to do that a lot when he was uncomfortable — and then asked, “Uh, can we get you anything? A drink?”

“No need. I sent my assistant out to get me a cucumber mint lemonade. All the rage a few months ago with some of my other friends, and I still just can’t get enough.”

The way Michael had said other friends made it sound as if Dean was already his friend too. There was a sense of forced ownership there. Listening to it made Castiel feel uneasy. This was bordering on abuse. Maybe it already was and he just didn’t know how deep it went.

Did all celebrities live like this? Were they all abused by the industry?

God, it’d make sense.

“Oh, those are good,” Sam said, breaking the silence that Dean had seemed expected to fill. “You try any of those kale smoothies?”

There was a quiet sound of displeasure. “Kale’s uneasy on my stomach. You get me, right, Dean?”

“Uh… um… yeah. Yeah. So that the contract?” he asked.

“Sure is. Details what you can do and what you can’t do, what work we expect from you, and your increased pay.”

There was a shuffling of papers.

“So you’re saying I actually can do stuff?”

“Of course,” Michael replied, his tone suggesting Dean’s question had been absurd. Castiel didn’t buy it. “I don’t know what Zachariah told you—”

Dean’s tone was low, dangerous, as he said, “Oh, he told me plenty.”

There was silence, but it was dripping with tension. Castiel wished he could peek his head out the door and see what was happening, observe the body language.

“I don’t know what kind of sick fetish you have,” Dean went on, “but I’m not one of your other toys. You don’t own me.”

“So you won’t sign it?” That laugh again. “Come now, Dean, you’re not a toy. Think of it as you being my vessel. I use you to give the people what they want. I reside over them as an… archangel. You get it?”

“So you’re gonna use me and live through me?”

“That’s a harsh way of putting it.”

“It’s a harsh way to do business.”

“Fine. Then you don’t want to make music?”

“You know that’s not what—”

“He’ll sign it,” Sam said, cutting Dean off.

“He telling the truth?” Michael asked. “You want to sign it, or is that just him speaking for you?”

Dean’s voice was a rough growl as he said, resigned, “I’ll sign it.”

“Excellent. End of the day, alright, Dean?”

There was a noise, a grumbling of assent, and then Michael was making his farewells.

After the door closed something banged against it. That might’ve either been Dean’s fist or his head.

“How is this legal?” he asked.

Sam offered, “You want me to do some digging?”

“I don’t know. Whatever.” Then he called, “Cas, it’s safe to come out! The evil overlord is gone.”

Castiel tentatively left the bedroom, feeling as if there’d been a weight against the doors. The air out there seemed heavier, laced with tension. A part of him hadn’t wanted to come out. But he did.

Dean slammed a packet of papers down on the counter.

“Cas, come on. We’re going for a drive.”

“Is that really a good idea?” Sam countered.

Dean brushed past Castiel to go into his room and get his keys.

When Castiel looked back at him, he was shrugging.

“I don’t know,” Castiel said. “Maybe I should get back.”

“No, I got you into this mess, I can at least try and make up for it. Come on, we can do whatever you want: stop for lunch, get some drinks, uh… whatever else people like to do for fun.”

“Dean—“

“Calm down, Sam. We’ll both wear hats and sunglasses. No one will know.”

Dean shuffled through a drawer, put a hat and sunglasses on, and then came over to do the same to Cas. A darkly-tinted Dean beamed at him as Castiel pushed the sunglasses farther up the bridge of his nose.

Castiel strangely found himself wanting to agree to all this. He even wanted to find out more about him, what made him tick, what the contract was about, who Michael was, why Sam was trying to have him be careful.

But Meg…

He’d gone with her to Kansas City. He couldn’t possibly go traipsing around it while knowing she was on her own. What kind of friend would that make him?

“I’ll have to talk to my friend,” Castiel said. Dean’s face began to fall and he added on, “Before we go out. Besides, you promised me a new phone.”

He’d meant the last sentence to be joking, if it needed to be, but Dean took it in stride.

“I sure did.”

Dean took Castiel by the elbow, which startled Cas, but after last night, he supposed their barrier for intimacy had already come down. He had Cas start walking with him to the door.

“Dean, I don’t know what I can do if Crowley or Zach hear about this.”

Dean said to his brother, “Then do something now. Go figure out what the hell is up with that thing they want signed with my blood. Alright, Cas. Let’s go.”

Tension seemed to bleed out of Dean once they left the room, and the celebrity just stood there, taking a few deep breaths.

“Are you alright?” Castiel asked, not sure what he would even do if Dean was honest with his answer. What could he do? What was even appropriate?

Dean ignored him, just started talking about their plans. Castiel let him do it for now, knowing that Dean Winchester wasn’t a good person to push. Besides, if Castiel was in a situation that seemed as abusive as that, he wouldn’t want to open up to some stranger he’d met the night before.

“So, how about I get you that new phone, then we check on the car, maybe get some lunch after.”

Castiel just looked at him, questioning, wondering. Why was Dean doing this for him? Was it a sense of guilt? Should Castiel just decide to not go through with this?

Was he just a distraction?

The answer to that was something that would probably hurt under deeper scrutiny, but he decided to ignore it, his curiosity and need to help getting the best of him. Besides, Castiel was interested in other people and how their minds worked. Seeing the mind of a celebrity was something any mental health professional would surely kill for. There weren’t any books for this stuff. It was new territory, and territory that his field certainly didn’t talk about.

Besides, it wasn’t every day that a cute guy asked him out to lunch.

Really? he chided himself. That’s what’s important to you?

“What’s wrong?” Dean asked, noting Cas’ silence as they walked through the halls to the elevator towards the back of the building.

“Nothing,” Castiel lied.

He wasn’t about to tell Dean his thoughts, even if they had talked so openly the night before. Why should he tell Dean his thoughts? It wasn’t as if he wasn’t ignoring Cas’ questions either.

Once they were in the elevator, Castiel asked, “Do you usually do this?” Dean just raised his eyebrows in question, and Cas swallowed roughly at that look. He suddenly regretted asking him that while they were in an elevator. It was large, as far as elevators went, but it still managed to keep them close to each other. Maybe too close.. “Go out with fans,” he eventually clarified after clearing his throat.

Dean grinned, and there was a rogue-ish light in his apple green eyes, matching his smile.

“Are you admitting you’re a fan?”

“No.” Dean chuckled at Castiel’s words. “Definitely not,” Castiel went on.

“Denial!” Dean sang.

Castiel just blushed, not sure how to handle this situation.

“I’m gonna make you a fan,” Dean said.

The elevator dinged! They were on the ground floor. The doors slid open with hardly a sound, and then Dean was taking Castiel out through one of the back doors to the parking garage.

“Why is me being a fan so important to you?”

Dean just turned, studying him. Their eyes met, and Castiel tried to read what was in those beautiful green depths. But he couldn’t. Dean wasn’t an open book, and though Castiel knew people from an outside perspective, he wasn’t sure what was going on here.

One side of Dean’s mouth turned down in a frown.

“I don’t know,” he eventually responded. “Come on. We should hurry. I don’t want to be seen.”

“What’ll happen if you are?”

“You really want to talk about that?”

“Do you want to talk about it? You seem incredibly on edge, stressed…”

“Thanks for the diagnosis, Dr. Phil.”

They hurried through the dark shadows of the garage, and Castiel was wondering how the hell Dean was fine seeing with those dark sunglasses on. He nearly tripped over his own feet, yet Dean was walking as smoothly as ever.

They made it to his Impala, and Castiel stared at the vehicle before getting in. Anger began to boil in his stomach at the fact that Dean’s car was fine, and Castiel’s wasn’t. They’d have to pick up his car, make sure it got the repairs it needed.

Castiel slid into the passenger’s side, Dean already in the driver’s seat. He put the key in the ignition, and twisted it. The Impala started purring and rumbling beneath them. As far as the sounds cars made were concerned, this one could almost be described as soothing.

“You won’t be spotted in this?” Castiel asked as Dean started pulling out of the parking space.

“Only the rabid fans know I drive it,” Dean said.

“And what about…” Castiel didn’t know how to ask, so he trailed off.

They were making their way out onto the busy streets.

“What about what? Spit it out, Cas.”

“Michael, that man he mentioned, Zachariah — I’m assuming they know what kind of car you drive. And Michael sounded… pretty serious” — nice understatement, Cas — “so I just want to know if you’ll be okay. You didn’t take your bodyguard with you either.”

Dean sighed, as if he didn’t really want to talk about it, but then he opened his mouth to explain, “I didn’t take Clif with me because then my manager, or whoever else has their ears to the ground, will know for sure that I’m out and about.”

“You make it sound as if they intend to keep you as a prisoner.”

Dean shook his head, face furrowing, growing serious. His jaw clenched. “It sure as hell feels that way.”

[conquiistador]

THE DRAGON & THE KING | CHAPTER 1.

     The ocean glimmered in the sunlight. Gold against blue. It was too noisy to hear the soft waves sweep against the docks. There was chatter all around him. All the conversations that passed him seemed to have the same subject - excitement about boarding the cruise ship. “Regent Seven Seas Explorer” was over 200 meters long, had 10 decks, and would carry around 750 passengers. One of which would be Doflamingo himself. The ship would sail from San Francisco to Papeete on Tahiti. The cruise would take 18 days. Eighteen whole days. Doflamingo couldn’t remember ever giving himself that amount of time to devote only to indulging in his own pleasure. Nevermind the fact that while he always traveled in style, he also always traveled alone. 

     His subordinates returned from the ship, having carried his belongings to his suite ( he didn’t trust the cabin crew to handle his luggage ). They wished him a safe trip, and promptly left to return to their other duties. Doflamingo remained standing. While everyone boarding Seven Seas Explorer were certainly upper-class people, Doflamingo still stood out. His peculiar shaped shades with tinted glass, his expensive suit with subtle pink details, like his pink-gold cuff-links, and his pink-diamond collar pins. He towered over most of the people passing him with more than a head. They all walked in the same direction - towards the ship, but Doflamingo wasn’t looking that way. His gaze had left the ship and the sea, turned towards the city of San Francisco, and the road leading down to the docks.

     Normally, Doflamingo would never SHARE the feelings of those surrounding him. Like there was an invisible barrier separating him from the world, he would never feel what others felt. Never find himself in touch with them in any sort of way. However, that was not the case today. Because he too was excited. He supposed it made him only human, and he reminded himself that this was no way for a man in his 30s to feel. The fault did not lie with him though. If anyone was to be blamed for his emotions, there could only be one candidate. The person Doflamingo was waiting for.

     They could’ve spent New Year’s together, but since Kabu didn’t want Doflamingo to come to Japan for a while, that hadn’t happened. Which meant they hadn’t seen each other in over a MONTH. Today was 24. January. Doflamingo’s impatience to see him was fitting to how ( in his opinion ) long they had been apart. 

     Doflamingo’s Christmas present to him was this cruise. Not because it was hard to get the tickets or anything - anyone with the money could sort that out. Doflamingo simply wanted the man to ENJOY himself more. Doflamingo lived a life of pleasure, while Kabu... Lived a life of duty. It was what separated them, and if Doflamingo could break down that fence, if only just a little bit, then he was going to do exactly that. He had told Kabu that the cruise would last for 10 days, and he knew that even that had been pushing it. Kabu was busy. Doflamingo was busy as well, but not in the same way. He only took on the responsibilities he wanted. Thinking back to when he suggested the cruise to Kabu, he could still recall the immediate happiness he felt when the other accepted. A strange, unfamiliar feeling to Doflamingo. He supposed the other would’ve done research on the cruise, and he did think that Kabu would have found out that they were going out to sea for eighteen days, not just ten. How big of a problem would it be for him?

     Why had he chosen a cruise, when he owned a private yacht that was more than luxurious enough? It would’ve provided them with privacy, and all the comforts they could’ve wished for. Why choose to go on a cruise with other people? There was a very simple answer to this. Because a cruise was more romantic. Doflamingo had ALWAYS been a romantic. It was why he loved operas, the ballet, classical music, poetry. His need to have anything that was unique was his way of attempting to make the world before him beautiful. Rather than the disappointing reality that it was. Doflamingo was a man who would’ve loved to live his life in a fantasy. Curious, seeing as in many aspects he was also realistic. The one subject where realism didn’t play a part was with regards to Kabu. Doflamingo didn’t want to listen to reason. That their relationship had no place in the real world, and that their parting was inevitable. He closed off his own thoughts that told him that somebody - himself - would eventually get bored. Those ROSY feelings would fade away and die. Nothing lasts forever, wasn’t that the saying? But this. THIS--- This wasn’t something Doflamingo wanted to ever imagine ending.

     A black limousine with tinted windows came driving down the road. Doflamingo followed it until it stopped. A moment later, Kabu stepped out together with two men, who immediately began sorting out Kabu’s luggage after receiving orders in what Doflamingo knew was Japanese. He rarely heard Kabu speak Japanese and he thought that maybe his voice sounded a little stricter in that language, but that might be because he generally spoke in a different manner to him. They made eye-contact right away. Kabu must’ve seen him while driving down. Doflamingo knew the other couldn’t fully meet his eyes thanks to them being hidden behind his sunglasses. He knew he could’ve waited onboard in the suite, and that waiting for him by the docks was completely unnecessary. Especially considering the fact that it wasn’t exactly warm. Despite the sunshine, the temperature lay at 14 degrees. Doflamingo could thank the good quality of his suit for keeping him warm.

     Kabu walked over to him. Doflamingo looked him up and down. They were dressed similarly. Both in expensive suits, though Kabu’s outfit obviously lacked those pink details that were Doflamingo’s trademarks. He looked well. Skin as fair as ever. His hair too long to be fashionable in the Western World ( Doflamingo prayed he never cut it, the longer it got the better it was to grab ). That small furrow between his brows grew deeper as he squinted slightly against the brightness of the sun. Ah, the urge to reach out for him made itself known straight away. Doflamingo could feel it like an itch in his fingertips. He had to remind himself that they would have eighteen days to touch each other. There was no rush. Patience. Patience.

     ❝ Long time no see. Fu fu fu fu. ~ ❞ Doflamingo opened the conversation, lips pulled into that ever-present, teasing smirk. The line was a joke, of course. He was simply making fun of the both of them for not being able to go longer than a month without seeing each other. Doflamingo didn’t think that HE was the only one who craved the other’s presence. Kabu’s feelings had to be equally strong - if not stronger. Considering just how desirable Doflamingo was. Oh, but though Doflamingo prided himself on being a beautiful man, Kabu was definitely not lacking in the looks department. Those lips and that jawline. It should be a crime.

     ❝ Indeed. ❞ Kabu was smirking as well. Doflamingo was used to his tone always making others flustered and uncertain, and so he truly enjoyed how different Kabu’s reactions were compared to others. Special. He was simply special.  ❝ And you’ve been waiting for me? How sweet. ❞ 

     ❝ Fu fu fu fu, of course. ~ I want to make sure you get on board safely. Once the ship departs my complete capture of you will be insured. ❞ It was a leading sentence. Doflamingo was wondering if Kabu had figured out that the cruise would last for eighteen days, instead of ten like Doflamingo had initially told him.

     ❝ Ah, this is your way of making sure I enjoy myself ‘ for once ‘, no? ❞ Kabu was referring to their earlier talk. One they had had many times, where Doflamingo tried to explain to Kabu that it was important that he ENJOYED himself from time to time, while Kabu attempted to get Doflamingo to understand what being a Yakuza was all about. It wasn’t like Doflamingo didn’t get where Kabu was coming from, but he simply refused to bend to rules. Especially if said rules would keep them apart.

     ❝ Exactly. ~ I can’t believe I have to shanghai you in order for you to take some time off. ❞ Bringing someone onto a ship was the traditional way to shanghai someone after all. Though, Doflamingo didn’t have to drug him to get him on board. But - wasn’t what Kabu felt for him kind of like a drug? Doflamingo wanted to reach out for him more than ever now. Just like he wanted Kabu to put his hands on him. If only briefly.

     ❝ ‘ Some time ‘? ❞ Kabu repeated, and Doflamingo knew he knew. Eighteen days was a very long holiday for a Yakuza, wasn’t it? But still, Kabu was going along with it, right? For him. 

     ❝ Fu fu fu fu. ~ Yes, just some time. ❞ More time. Always more time.  ❝ Shall we? ❞ Doflamingo gestured towards the boarding area, and the two of them headed in that direction. They were walking side by side, making their small height difference evident. Doflamingo was fifteen centimeters taller. Thanks to Kabu having a broader build than himself, the other never looked that much smaller than him though. Doflamingo was leaner. His muscles were only there because he worked out to stay fit - to look good. To take care of his body which he worshiped. Kabu was fit because he had to be thanks to his work.

     The two of them boarded, and were greeted by crew members offering to take them to their suite. Doflamingo declined. He had looked at the deck plans, and knew where to go. They were going to be staying in the Regent Suite on the top deck. It was the biggest one on the ship, and would give them 280 m² of indoor space, and 130 m² in balcony, including an outdoor pool. Doflamingo was used to living in luxury, so this was nothing special to him. If he was going to be away from home for 18 days, then he needed to make sure he would be comfortable. How could one hope to achieve comfort without extravagance? They received a key each to their suite. Doflamingo already knew what kind of impression it gave off when they were sharing a place to sleep. Did he care? It was hard to bring himself to. He was well-aware that for his own safety, their relationship should be kept more or less quiet. But he didn’t think whatever enemies Kabu had were the type of people to go on a cruise. They were too BUSY for that, right? This far away from Japan and everything that was familiar to Kabu, something like that wouldn’t follow them. Doflamingo was counting on that. 

     ❝ I checked the passenger list. ❞ Kabu informed him, earning an arch of Doflamingo’s brows. Had they been thinking about the same thing?  ❝ There is nothing to worry about. ❞ Ah. Kabu had thought about his safety. He had told him once that when they were together, Doflamingo’s safety was his responsibility. Kabu took his responsibilities very seriously. Of course, Doflamingo was used to people looking after his well-being, but - only because he PAYED them. There was no doubt that people admired him, looked up to him, idolized him even. But those weren’t Kabu’s reasons for wanting to protect him.

     ❝ I’m not worried. ❞ Now he KNEW there was no reason to worry. Doflamingo would never tell him how being protected made him feel. It was something he would not even admit to himself. He wondered if Kabu already knew.  ❝ Fu fu fu fu, after all - this is a vacation. I’m sure you’re not familiar with the word. ❞ Time to tease him more about his lifestyle.

     ❝ At least I’m going to follow your example and live the next few days only for pleasure. ❞ Kabu smirked.

     They took the stairs up to the top deck, and Doflamingo led the way to their suite. With Kabu’s key they unlocked the door. There was nothing about their suite that stated that they were on a SHIP. It might as well have been an hotel. It was open and spacious, with a polished stone floor. The interior details were black, grey and gold. When they walked in, the dining area was to the left, and the living room area and the bar to the right. In both ends of the long room, there was a door leading to a bedroom. Not that they would need TWO bedrooms. There was a bathroom linked to each bedroom. There were large windows, and several glass doors from which one could enter the balcony. It was forward-facing, so that they would always be looking in the direction the ship was heading. Apart from the artworks on the walls, and the gold details - this was not Doflamingo’s taste in interior design. He had an eye for things that were more grandiose and less modern. That being said, his pent-house apartment where he lived ( he did own several houses, but they were not convenient to live in ) was very modern. It was out of practical reasons rather than him choosing the aesthetics. Doflamingo would’ve loved to live in a PALACE. Surrounded by marble and gold. He would’ve wanted dramatic oil paintings on the walls, and enormous chandeliers in the ceiling. And the most important part? He would’ve wanted a grand garden. Well, this was a home he would make for himself when he got BORED of living in the city. It would do him good to get out of it for a while. It was rare that he spent time at sea.

      ❝ I prefer your house. ❞ Doflamingo stated as he walked into the room, having a look around. There was a piano placed by one of the windows. He hadn’t played since going to university.  ❝ But I suppose that’s because I’ve only ever been there together with you. ~ ❞ His gaze returned to Kabu.

     The ship would depart at 18:00. They would probably be on the balcony by then. Kabu would smoke, and Doflamingo would drink a glass of wine. They would pass under the Golden Gate Bridge, and then after that they could go to dinner. And after dinner? Naturally they would return to their suite and Doflamingo could finally put his hands on him. That would be the logical way to arrange the rest of the day.

     They were standing next to each other again, Kabu having joined him by the window to look at the view. Or to be close to him. Their shoulders were almost touching.

     ❝ I don’t care where we are. ❞ Kabu said, as his fingers made contact with Doflamingo’s hair.  ❝ As long as we are together. ❞ There was a smirk on his face while he said it, and yet Doflamingo knew he wasn’t teasing. Or, perhaps he was just distracted by the hand in his hair. It almost made him want to grow his hair out, if only to feel what it would be like to have Kabu tug at it. In his teenage years, his hair had been longer, but he preferred it short like it was now. He hoped Kabu wasn’t going to cut his hair. Kabu’s hand brushed over his head from his hair line to his nape, and then down his neck. It was such a simple touch, and yet it was enough to set his skin ablaze. Was it impatience on Kabu’s part, or had he simply touched him without thinking? They had spent enough time in each other’s company to develop habits. Doflamingo wanted to think that Kabu, just like himself, simply couldn’t go longer without touching him. Now that the other HAD touched him, there was no way he could keep his hands to himself. Two fingers were placed under Kabu’s chin, to tilt it up slightly. Then, Doflamingo leaned in. The kiss he delivered was nothing short of HUNGRY. It wasn’t intended that way. Their lips firmly pressing against one another, before they both parted their lips as if on command. The kiss deepened within a second. A light taste of nicotine met Doflamingo, where as Kabu would find a much sweeter flavor. Doflamingo felt Kabu’s tongue brush against his bottom lip, and he knew the other would pry his mouth open in a moment, so he invited him to stick his tongue inside by willingly opening his mouth. Next he could feel Kabu’s tongue slide into his mouth. Excitement spread from where their bodies were now joined, all the way down to Doflamingo’s groin. Was he some kind of immature teenager that would get turned on from a simple tongue-kiss? Clearly that was how he appeared right now. Now that he was already in this situation, there was no reason for him to slow down. He might as well go all-in.

     The two fingers under Kabu’s jaw were turned around, and hooked under the collar of his shirt. While attempting not to break the kiss, Doflamingo pulled him down with him onto the nearest couch. He didn’t need to use much effort to do so, since Kabu was following his moves. The other’s arms were already holding him, and that possessive vibe that Kabu always gave off was shooting through the roof. Doflamingo didn’t pull Kabu into his lap - as much as he would love to - he had too much respect for him. They ended up seated next to each other on the couch, tongues still mixing in Doflamingo’s mouth. The kiss broke briefly, allowing them both a sharp inhale.  ❝ You’re eager today. ❞ Kabu commented. Doflamingo silenced him with another kiss, before the Yakuza’s expression had a chance to turn smug. Doflamingo being, as Kabu put it, ‘ eager ‘ was nothing new. Impatience had been building up in him for WEEKS. 

     ❝ Fu fu fu fu, am I the only one? ~ ❞ He knew he wasn’t. There was no way anybody could receive such kisses from him and not be affected. Not even Kabu, who was oh so good at keeping his emotions in check. Breathing into the kiss, Doflamingo slid a hand up between Kabu’s legs and palmed him firmly. The other was already hard. He would’ve expected nothing less from that man and his insane sex drive. Having his partners pleasure as a part of his own excitement was still something new to Doflamingo, and to him this was one of the things that made their relationship intimate. As Kabu’s arousal grew, Doflamingo began to map out the outline of his cock through the fabric of his pants. His size was as impressive as ever. 

      ❝ Trying to get me off through my pants? Don’t be so lazy. ❞ It wasn’t a critique. It was just Kabu showing that he TOO was impatient. He wanted direct skin contact. Kabu had a had on the back of Doflamingo’s head now, keeping him from pulling out of the kiss, despite how badly Doflamingo needed to breathe. Kabu didn’t let him. To pay him back for this, Doflamingo pushed his hand into Kabu’s pants and underwear, and curled his fingers around his throbbing erection. This made Kabu gasp a little, and he released Doflamingo from the hold briefly, allowing him to take a deep, much needed breath. With their kiss now broken, Kabu could brush his thumb over Doflamingo’s bottom lip. He briefly dipped out his tongue to meet his finger, and Kabu pushed it into his mouth.  ❝ I want you to use your mouth. ❞

     ❝ Fu fu fu fu. ~ ❞ Doflamingo chuckled after biting down on Kabu’s thumb.  ❝ And I wand to taste you. ❞ Usually, Kabu was the one to be the first one to perform this sort of service, so Doflamingo didn’t mind changing the order.  ❝ But touch me first. ~ ❞ They way he said it made it so there might as well have been a ‘ please ‘ at the end of the sentence. Kabu obliged him right away, and shoved his hand down into Doflamingo’s palm. Those ringed fingers took a firm grip of his dick, and Doflamingo moaned as he thrust into his hold.  ❝ Ah--- ~ ❞ Now distracted by his own pleasure, he began to pump Kabu’s cock with firm, quick strokes. Kabu’s thumb slid over his crown, and Doflamingo noticed how he was already oozing precum. Just from kissing him and touching him. His attraction towards this man was simply dangerous. Kabu kissed down his neck, and with his vacant hand he began to undo the buttons on Doflamingo’s shirt to expose more skin. Doflamingo pumped his dick faster to encourage him to continue. Kabu’s kisses followed down his now exposed chest. He knew what the other was going to do next, and another moan sounded from him when Kabu’s tongue brushed over his nipple. One was now being teased by Kabu’s tongue, and the other one pinched by his fingers. All while the Yakuza was working his cock at a painfully slow rhythm. Doflamingo’s pace was much quicker, and he loved how he could feel Kabu get wet for him. The other’s lips locked around his nipple, making Doflamingo moan once again when he began to suck.  ❝ Mhh--- ~ ❞ Next followed his teeth, pinching the hardened bud enough to make Doflamingo gasp. He wanted more. Kabu gave him more. Enough to mark him here in a spot that was ONLY sensitive because the one doing the touching was Kabu. Doflamingo restlessly thrust himself into Kabu’s rough hand. Wanting more. NEEDING more. If Kabu hadn’t been going so slowly, Doflamingo was pretty sure he would’ve been able to cum like this. Kabu’s mouth switched with his hand, so that his other nipple could get the SAME treatment. Lips, teeth and tongue marking him and making his body feel weak. The hand that had been joining Kabu’s mouth with teasing his nipples, was moved down to open Kabu’s pants. Clearly the other thought it was getting uncomfortably tight down there, with both his dick and Doflamingo’s large hand. Once Kabu’s cock was freed, Doflamingo didn’t hesitate to lean down to use his mouth like the other had wanted him to. The tingling, almost HIGH sensation of pleasure was making him compliant. He wanted to pleasure Kabu. Tongue slid out from behind his teeth. Wet and hungry for the other’s taste. As he brushed his tongue over the other’s head, he got what he wanted. A shiver ran down Doflamingo’s spine, and he could hear Kabu gasp again. Doflamingo was quick to lock his lips around him. Precum was mixing with his own spit and it was delicious. He swallowed. Quickly, eagerly, he began to bob his head up and down, playfully popping Kabu’s cock out of his mouth each time he pulled back.

     ❝ Ah--- ❞ Finally it was Kabu’s turn to let his voice out. Doflamingo took MORE of his dick into his mouth. He knew Kabu was watching everything, and that just made it even more hot. Of course watching someone like HIM swallow your cock like this would look divine. It made him want to put on a good show. A few more inches of Kabu disappeared into Doflamingo’s mouth, and his tongue worked around him to smear his shaft with that mix of spit and precum. Kabu had let go of his dick now, and this allowed Doflamingo to move onto his knees in front of Kabu on the couch. It was a better angle, despite how his dick was already aching to feel those fingers again. It was almost tempting to start touching himself, but he knew Kabu wanted to be the one to bring him to an orgasm. And, in any case, Kabu’s pleasure was the one in focus now. Once he was kneeling before him, Kabu’s hand was placed on his head. It was both as an encouragement, and as a small warning. Doflamingo knew Kabu liked to FUCK his mouth. He relaxed his jaw in order to take that thick cock deeper. It was hitting the back of his throat now, testing his gag reflexes which almost kicked in. They were activated enough for Doflamingo’s eyes to begin to water. Ignoring that, he hollowed his cheeks and sucked hard. It tasted so good.  ❝ Ah shit--- ❞ Kabu cursed behind gritted teeth. Doflamingo loved it when he made him curse. He began to bob his head again, but this time he made sure Kabu’s cock stayed DEEP inside his mouth, almost threatening to slide DOWN his throat. One day, he hoped he would be able to deep throat him, if only to see Kabu’s expression. Kabu’s hold on his head grew firm when both his hands were holding him in place. Carefully, Kabu’s hips nudged forward, taking Doflamingo by surprise. He pulled back briefly, only because he wasn’t expecting it. But when the next thrust was delivered, he didn’t try to get away. Kabu held his head steady while he began to rock his hips, fucking Doflamingo’s mouth just like he loved doing. Doflamingo licked his shaft and sucked while Kabu’s hips moved. The other was loud enough for his voice to sound like groans. Doflamingo knew Kabu was generally quiet in bed so this was insanely satisfying to him. He could feel his own dick throb in his pants, and precum was staining his underwear. Who would’ve thought having your lover fuck your mouth could be this hot? Kabu’s hold on Doflamingo’s head was suddenly put to use, as Kabu pushed on the back of his head, forcing Doflamingo to take him just past the back of his throat. Doflamingo gagged, and attempted to pull back. Kabu’s hold made it impossible.  ❝ Fuck--- Ah--- Shit--- Doflamingo, you look so fucking hot swallowing my dick--- ❞ Kabu told him through gritted teeth. Doflamingo looked up at him, his eyes had watered over from that gag. Kabu kept fucking his mouth. Doflamingo knew he just couldn’t control himself, and somehow, he found that hot. Knowing that Kabu was in so much pleasure that he was losing his control was pleasing beyond compare. Doflamingo could feel his mouth water even more, and he had to swallow hard to not drown in his own drool. A few more rough thrusts from Kabu and then the other moaned his name loudly. Doflamingo felt Kabu’s thick, hot cum hit the back of his throat. The other thrust into him as he came, and Doflamingo swallowed around him, drinking as much as he could. That much fluid couldn’t fit in his mouth, and some escaped from between his lips, staining his chin. Kabu pumped his cum into his mouth, all while holding his head down to make him swallow it all ( Doflamingo would’ve done this anyway ). Once he was all empty, he eased up on the hold, and Doflamingo slowly pulled his head back. Kabu’s cock slid out of his mouth, and Doflamingo was panting heavily.  ❝ You’re amazing. ❞ Kabu complimented him. He too was out of breath. There was no need for kind words, since the other’s orgasm had been enough evidence.  ❝ I almost made you deepthroat me. ❞ It wasn’t really an apology, yet Doflamingo would interpret it as once.

     ❝ Fu fu fu fu. ~ As payback, let me use your ass. ~ No penetration, of course. ~ ❞ This was one of HIS favorite things to do. As much as he wished to properly claim him as HIS, he knew he would have to wait in order for that to happen. He definitely hadn’t given up on that subject. Kabu leaned down and claimed his mouth for a kiss. He knew he wanted to taste himself on his tongue, so Doflamingo opened his mouth, welcoming him inside. The kiss lasted for a long moment, before Kabu pulled back again.

     ❝ Then let’s move to bed. ❞ He would hear no complains from Doflamingo. A bed would be MUCH more comfortable. He was so horny he could hardly wait for his release. His legs almost felt wobbly when he stood up. Kabu got up as well, and they headed for the nearest out of the two bedrooms. It was not even dark outside and they were already walking into a bedroom? This was HUNGER. 

[fresh-outta-jams]

So Far Away

So Far Away Yoongi x Reader Soulmate AU

Author: Admin Mo

Min Yoongi loved sleep. He loved sleep more than just about anything. But he’d be darned if he ever let the others know why. Like some of the others, Yoongi had no visible sign of his soulmate. No tattoo. No timer. No red string of fate. And as far as the others knew, he hadn’t manifested anything yet. But that was a lie. Yoongi’s soulmate had manifested before almost all of theirs, it was just something they hadn’t picked up on.

And it was the reason he got so angry when the others woke him up.

Yoongi knew his soulmate pretty well, actually, considering they talked every night in their dreams. It was never for very long, what with time zones and all, but they cherished the time they shared together, however long or short it was.

The first time you met Yoongi was in high school. You had dozed off during class, and suddenly you were somewhere else. A fountain in the center of a park you didn’t recognize. There was a boy standing there dressed in white, flipping a coin into the water. He had his hands shoved in his pockets, his hair a reddish brown mess.

“Hello?” You called. This place was strange. Everything had a sort of misty haze, and the sky seemed too bright. It made you dizzy if you thought about it too hard.

And then he turned around and everything felt right. His warm brown eyes, a soft confident smirk and a voice as deep as the ocean. You knew. You just...knew after looking at him for one second that this was the moment that would define the rest of your life.

“What took you so long?” He held out a hand, silently asking you to come closer.

You did, and once you were close enough, he took your hand in his own. You stood there in silence for a little while, each of you taking the other in. Both of you knew who the other was and why you were here.

“Nice to finally meet you.” You spoke softly.

He smiled and squeezed your hand. “I’m Yoongi.”

“(Y/N).”

It was simple, but sweet, as a lot of your moments had been so far. The next time you met, it was Yoongi who had shown up second. You were sitting at a grand piano in an empty room. The room itself was kind of blank, but the music you were creating filled it with life and color.

When you noticed him, you stopped, and he put a hand over his heart. “Don’t stop because of me!”

“What took you so long?” You tilted your head and smirked at him.

He chuckled and shook his head, sitting next to you on the cushy piano bench. “What were you playing?”

“I was just messing around.” You shrugged, your fingers settling back onto the keys and plucking out a melody.

Yoongi watched for a few seconds and then joined in, his hands crafting a lower harmony beneath your notes. You smiled at the way he played, the way his thigh touched yours, the warmth that seemed to radiate from him.

How could a dream feel so real?

***

Ironically, since you had lost your voice, music had become your life. It surpassed all languages and barriers and expressed any emotion, even without words. The wordless kind was really the only kind you could make these days.

You had always played piano, and you used to sing along, but those days were over. Instead, you poured your heart out with your fingers, carefully shaping melodies and writing pieces only to forget them the next time you sat down on the bench.

But there was one melody that wouldn’t leave you. And so you named it Yoongi. It floated around your head at school while you daydreamed. Your eyes drifting off into space as you thought about him, the melody playing softly in your head. You thought about his hands a lot. The way they made music so effortlessly, or how they felt wrapped around your own.

Your friend across the table waved her hand in your face. “Are you okay? You zoned out.”

You nodded and lifted up the little whiteboard attached to a string around your neck. You had been learning sign language for the past few years, but your friends weren’t quite there yet, so it was just easier to communicate that way. It took you a while to figure out what to write while you held the marker between your fingertips, but after a few moments, you wrote out: “I kind of met my soulmate?”

“You what?! No way! Tell us everything!”

You laughed soundlessly and erased the previous message to make room for the new one. Now, all of your friends’ eyes were on you as you rushed to write out what had happened as simply as you could. “I only see him in my dreams. His name is Yoongi. We both play the piano.”

“What else?”

You erased and wrote out, “I don’t know! We’ve only met like twice!”

“Mmhmm, suuure…” One of your friends raised an eyebrow suspiciously. “You better tell us everything.”

“Don’t worry, I will.”

***

Months passed, and you saw Yoongi pretty frequently. It wasn’t every night that you saw eachother, but it was often enough. On this night in particular, you were walking along the beach. Which beach, you weren’t sure. The details were obscured by what the two of you had come to refer to as the ‘dream fog’, the overlying feature that made every dream feel like the same place, despite the differences in the settings.

“I missed you.” Yoongi came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist.

You smiled and leaned into his touch. “You sound tired. How is it possible to be tired while you’re literally asleep?”

“I’m finding new ways to defy logic every day.” He laughed and pressed a kiss to your neck. His hands settled over yours. “How was your day?”

“Good. How was yours?”

“Better now.” His voice was so deep. Deeper than the ocean beside you. And it filled you with a warm feeling you couldn’t describe.

People said that meeting your soulmate in person was the best feeling on the earth, but you decided this was good too. It was almost the same. You got to see him. Feel him. Hold him. Even if it was never for very long.

You liked being able to talk to him. That was something that would certainly complicate things whenever fate finally pushed the two of you together in real life. But for now, It wasn’t a problem, so you didn’t bring it up.

After a few minutes of watching the waves together, you turned around and hugged him, arms wrapped tight around his middle. He chuckled softly, hugging you back.

“You’re clingy today, jagi.” You could hear the smile in his voice. “I’m not complaining, but-”

“Just making the most of the time we have.” You whispered into his chest. Your words made him hold you a little tighter. “We need to find a way to-”

And then you woke up, sighing at your ceiling. It was always like that. As soon as you tried to make a plan to find eachother, it shattered the dreamscape and left you voiceless once again.

But maybe someday…

***

You and Yoongi had been connected for years by this point. You had done everything in your dreams from playing mini golf to hanging out at the mall. Slowly, you learned to take more control of the dreamscape. You could influence where you went, and even change location in the middle of a dream with enough practice. You learned that talking about meeting in the real world caused whatever dream you were sharing to dissolve around you, so you made conversation of other things.

Yoongi was a rapper, you learned. He liked his coffee black, which he laughed and said was ironic, but when he tried to explain why, the dream dissolved. Yoongi reasoned that he couldn’t disclose anything about Bangtan, his stage name included. So, instead, he asked about you.

You told him that you played the piano, and it slipped out that you used to sing. He asked why you didn’t anymore, and you told him that...you were just spending more time on the piano playing thing these days. He simply nodded and pulled you closer.

The next time you saw eachother, he was playing the grand piano in the big empty room, his fingers pounding out an emotional piece. It somehow managed to be heavy and light at the same time, the contrast between his hands creating a sound unique to him. You could swear you recognized the sound of it from somewhere, but thinking about it too much made the dream haze start to falter, so you stopped trying to place it and instead sat next to him.

“White hair, huh?” You played with his hair, causing him to stop making music and look at you instead. He had that adorable gummy smile on his face. “It’s a good look for you.”

“And your hair is the same as always. Beautiful.” His words caused a flash of heat to course through your veins as you surrendered to his embrace, hiding a blushing face. “So...where do you want to go tonight?”

“Hmmm…” You stroked your chin for a second, thinking about the possibilities. You could literally go anywhere in the entire world. “Have you ever been to Disney World?”

“Disneyland.”

“It’s not the same.” You laughed, taking his hands and willing the scene to fabricate around you. In moments, the two of you were walking down Main Street USA, holding hands, eating chocolate covered ice cream pops, and wearing Mickey and Minnie ears.

Once you were there, the two of you did what you always did: you made the most of the time you had. You rode every ride you could manage, got Dole Whip, met Mickey Mouse, and now that the dream sun was setting, Yoongi stopped you in front of Cinderella Castle, both of your hands in his and looked at you. You looked so cute in your ears, and you were all his, even if you weren’t together in the real world just yet.

“Someday...I’m going to take you here for real.” Yoongi decided. “I promise.”

“Can’t wait.” You hugged him tightly, your very own Disney prince standing in the center of the place where dreams come true. And you wished on every star in the heavens that someday your prince would come.

You just didn’t realize how soon it would be.

***

Your music teacher in college had stumbled upon an amazing opportunity. He had an old friend and to make a long story short, you and a handful of his favorite students were headed to South Korea to learn more about their music industry.

You slept most of the flight, catching Yoongi’s dream waves for a few minutes, but when you tried to tell him where you were, you woke up. Odd, you thought. But you didn’t think about it too hard.

When you landed and got to the hotel, you got coffee in a coffee shop with the other students.

“(Y/N), are you okay?” Your professor asked.

You nodded and shot him a thumbs-up. You weren’t really sure why, but for some reason, you had this weird feeling. It was odd. A haze of sorts. A pull. It felt like a variation of the dream energy. Odd, you thought.

As the day continued, the feeling only got stronger, causing your heart to race. Even if you wouldn’t admit it to yourself, you knew what was coming, slowly but surely. You knew Yoongi wasn’t so far away anymore.

The car pulled into the parking lot of a building labeled with a big sign that read ‘Big Hit’. A quick Google told you this particular industry was home of a boy band called BTS. Had you looked at your screen for half a second longer before setting it down, you would have seen a picture of them, your soulmate mixed in with the six other handsome faces.

They gave you a quick tour, and then your teacher pulled you aside.

“I asked, and they said they would let you use the piano if you want to.”

You gave him a bright smile and two enthusiastic thumbs up. He laughed and gave you a pat on the shoulder.

When they brought you to the room with the piano, your heart dropped. You knew this place. This piano. The room was a little more defined here in person, but you knew that as soon as you sat down, your life was going to change forever.

You sat on the bench and reached out with shaky fingers, playing a melody you knew all too well at this point. Despite the feelings that were stirring around your heart, real and thick and warm, you still played the song effortlessly, even if it sounded empty without Yoongi’s half of the duet.

Meanwhile, in another room, the boys were rehearsing one of their dances, and as soon as the music stopped, Yoongi caught something in the distance. He perked up, listening intently. Jimin nudged him, raising an eyebrow.

“Everything okay, hyung?”

“Do you hear that?” He asked.

“The music?” Jimin replied.

Yoongi nodded. “I...I know that song.” He wandered out the door, following the sound. The closer he got, the louder it got, and finally, he was standing outside the door, his hand shaking, hovering over the doorknob.

After a few moments of standing there, Yoongi took a breath, and opened the door.

You looked up and your eyes widened. He smiled and took a few steps closer, nervously scratching the back of his neck.

“D-Don’t stop because of me!”

You were still sitting there frozen, very glad you had taken Korean as your foreign language, but unsure of what to do. You could understand him, sure, but you couldn’t say anything. This was the issue you had been afraid of since the beginning.

So instead of speaking, you stood from the piano bench on wobbly legs and met him in the middle of the room. He immediately took you in his arms, sighing and holding you tight. He felt you shaking, but it wasn’t until a few minutes later when he pulled away to look at you, that he noticed you were crying without even making a noise.

He wiped away your tears, smiling softly. “Don’t cry for me, jagi.”

You pulled his arms back around you and held onto him like it was the last time you would get to. All of the people who had come before you were right. Being here in person was so much different. So, so much different. His warmth was unlike anything you had ever felt, and the way his voice sounded in person sent your heart flying.

Finally, you pulled away and grabbed your white board from the top of the piano. You wrote out. “I’m really sorry I didn’t tell you, but I can’t talk.”

He read over the words, his eyebrows crinkling in confusion. His expression softened and he took your face in his hands and then spoke very softly in that deep voice of his. “You don’t have to keep secrets from me. Ever.”

You nodded and mouthed, “I know.” You sighed a shaky breath. “I just...didn’t know...”

“Did you think I would love you any less?” His heart broke at the very thought. When you started to shrug, nodding a little, he pulled you into his arms as quickly as he could. You had never been held so tight in your life. You could hear his voice break as he whispered, “You are PERFECT. Perfect.” His voice shook. “So, so perfect. I love you so much...”

You held him just a little tighter, burying your face in his chest in a way that let him know you loved him too. 

Link to Sequel in Masterlist

[diaryofasithchick]

Forgive Me Vader for I Have Dimmed...

...my devotion to the Force. It’s been awhile since I’ve posted anything, but it’s because I’ve been feeling overwhelmed. Not with life but with all the Star Wars stuff happening. Some of it is the usual build up to the upcoming film but that is just compounding all the stuff that currently exists out there: news about films, tributes to Carrie Fisher, podcasts, blogs, FB groups, Scum and Villainy Cantina (here in MY part of the galaxy -- a part of town I hate going to, though), fan films merchandise, and each of those explores the films, the animated series, and the books of the expanded universe -- and this doesn’t include the information on the official Star Wars website or the biggest Star Wars event of them all going on right now -- Celebration, and all its features and announcements and ultra amazing happenings of which I am not a part! (Insert tantrum, here.). So I try to pretend (not very well) for one second it’s not big deal as seen in my comments (I’m Sithsheila) to the FB post below. Sometimes I see links, and I just move along. What the hell is that behavior? I just don’t want to know what else of which I am missing out!

I’ve always known that despite my friends and family declaring me the biggest Star Wars fan, I know that compared to many other Star Wars fans, I am an amateur; this is why I chose the nom de plume, “Squire Ren” because I feel that, despite my fanaticism, I am in training when it comes to my knowledge and level of dedication to the franchise. But I am disappointed in my exhaustion in trying to keep up with everything Star Wars. I cannot accept that there would be a problem with overflowing fodder to feed my Star Wars gluttony. I can do better. I know I can.

VAGUE AND UNCONVINCING EXCUSES

Time is a huge factor when trying to keep up with all this stuff, and I’ve made time for what’s convenient: feeds that pop up on my Facebook, Twitter, and Tumblr pages.  Work, raising a kid, volunteering, freelance projects, trying to stay fit at 45, my research, my Mary Sue fiction, eating, sleeping -- I allow things to eat up so much precious time, and I squander so much time that could be devoted to my devotion for a galaxy far, far away. That is why I fail.

I have asked and received recommendations for Star Wars books so I can

venture into that realm, but have not plunged between any covers, which is horrifying because I love to read, and I love Star Wars! I have found Star Wars podcasts that sound intriguing, but I don’t know why it doesn’t intrigue me enough to actually listen to them especially when they are talking about topics by which I am fascinated, but I haven’t brought myself to listening to one.  I think that because I love written language, I want to see the words in front of me, so I haven’t allowed myself the time to have an aural experience other than listening to music or listening to radio news or sports broadcasts in the car -- which exactly what podcasts are, right, broadcasts, but I haven’t overcome the barrier, provided myself the luxury of time needed to sit still and listen, and there really are no good reasons I have to explain it. There is no try.

Coming up in my part of the galaxy is the May the Fourth Be With You Geek Meet. It’s a chance for me to do some discount cosplay and maybe meet the Star Wars nerd of my dreams (Likely not, since I am socially inept). Here is another aspect of fandom that I wish I did better at, but all I have is my Darth Vader dress and cape and some lightsaber jewelry or my Boba Fett shirt, beanie and blaster to serve my cosplay needs, dare I even use the term “cosplay” for the lack of effort in my apparel. I enable my social anxiety and talk myself out of going to these events by diminishing the acceptable state of my costume and exaggerating the inconvenience and annoyance of going to a crowded venue in a crowded part of town.

Then I see people on social media who indulge in multiple fandoms, and I am convinced there is something magical allowing them this ability. How do people manage devotion to multiple fandoms? Many Star Wars fans are also huge comic book fans and fans of other Sci-Fi franchises, and they go full bore with with their detailed knowledge and acquisition of merchandise from those franchises as much as they do with Star Wars.  I love Star Trek and Lord of the Rings not quite as much as I love Star Wars, but close to it, perhaps because I have little time to just view these, perhaps it’s merely time that hasn’t allowed me to wade deeper into these fandoms. I also have favorite bands and a passion for certain literary periods and of course favorite authors that graduate school provided a structured forum for fandom, but above all I’ve prioritized Star Wars but still feel I’ve devoted to it such little effort to it.

I feel like...no...I know that I’m missing out on so much.

REPUBLIC CREDITS ARE NO GOOD OUT HERE

Money is a huge factor when it comes to fandom. I see people on social media talking about their new collectible purchases and not just for Star Wars but for other franchises over which they obsess. I have to keep my Star Wars purchases practical. When I am in need of something, I try to get a Star Wars version of it. I need work clothes, I bought Star Wars shirts, sweaters, socks, and Vans (I get to dress casual at work). I needed a new work bag, I got the Darth Vader briefcase. I needed a new waterproof jacket, I bought the Darth Vader windbreaker. My showerhead broke, so I bought the Darth Vader one (Luckily I had just received a bunch of new Star Wars bathroom merchandise for xmas from my bestie to complete the look of the room.). I needed lipstick and mascara and nail polish and CVS had the Star Wars makeup for me to buy. I’m not always so fortunate to find Star Wars merchandise when I am in need. Like why am I not in need of Tiki Cups?

It is rare that I have it in my budget to purchase a collectible for the sake of having a collectible. It’s not that I don’t want to, I just can’t afford it. And it makes me wonder what kind of jobs Star Wars fans have to be able to afford to grow their collections. I’m sure many have well paying jobs because Star Wars attracts a unique quality of person, but then that makes me then wonder why I can’t afford to be nothing but a low-grade fan.  

DO OR DO NOT

I have heard that sentiment that if I was truly passionate, truly a fan, that I would find the time and money for all of my passions. That everything I detailed above is merely an excuse. I don’t believe that, mostly because, if I did, I would have to acknowledge that my love for Star Wars is too pale to be a passion. That I cannot do... (despite those sentiments being often accurate). I will not admit to a lack of passion because that is a terrible state to be in for a devotee of the dark side.

So, I guess I write this to now make myself accountable for my devotion. I write this with some jest, but it is my way of handling the fear of adding up the wasted minutes and the “could haves” and “should haves” and “if only I hads” that will drill me when my body is no longer fully functional, when I look back to see today was the time to make room for my passions amongst the obligations, being a nurturing parent, and still have room for serving my fellow human beings with my volunteer work. The episode VIII trailer came out today, and I am feeling renewed, motivated to drink in more Star Wars, heated up about seeing my cupcake 🤤  this winter (look at how delicious he looks!). There is time for it all and to do it all well. All is possible with the Force. The Force is with me; I am one with the Force.