#I wonder if erik will return those clothes

[thrwne]

So not the point but I’m obsessed with how small Mathias’s hoodie was on Erik. The sleeves didn’t even reach his hands 😭 oh I love me some height difference

Whaaat I thought the exact opposite! Erik was drowning in that hoodie and especially in those jeans

[starcrossedxwriter]

Unbreakable Part 4 (Erik Killmonger x OC)

A/N: So... we're getting into the thick of the plot here! So a lot happens in this chapter - maybe too much LOL but two parts were holdovers from chapter 3 that weren't quite ready lol so this chapter ended up jam-packed. Enjoy!

***

“You know we have staff to do that?” Nakia asked while she nursed Wakanda’s new princess and Naja moved at lightning speed folding all her clothes and straightening up her nursery.

Naja merely smiled and waved off her sister’s statement. “Yes I know. But the staff could use a break every once in a while. Besides laundry and organizing are the few domestic tasks mama taught us that I actually enjoy. How does such a tiny human make so many dirty clothes? She already has more clothes in this closet than I do.”

Nakia merely shook her head and laughed. “We have to change her outfit no less than 5 times each day. And she’ll outgrow 90% of that closet by the time you leave in a month.” 

Naja’s shoulders sagged a bit as she realized she only had about four weeks left in Wakanda. She had been so disgruntled about coming and now she did not want to leave. She knew she had to, there was much work waiting for her in Niganda and she missed her life there. But for the first time in a long time, she wondered whether she would miss what she was leaving in Wakanda more. Particularly her sister, her niece and her nephew. The Queen of Wakanda was incredibly busy with the new baby and her regular duties but she and Naja still made time for sister bonding, even if it was merely fawning over the baby together. 

“Who knows how big she’ll be when I am able to return again. Those five years with TJ went by so fast.” 

“Yes, this time will be very different though. Thank Bast,” Nakia whispered. Naja abandoned her task and squeezed her sister’s hand. 

“Yes, it will.” Naja pressed a soft kiss to the baby’s head before returning to her task. 

“You ever think about having one of these one day?” 

Naja was thankful her back was turned to Nakia as that question hit her ears. Her eyes clenched shut for a moment as if she could block out the avalanche of emotions that started barreling down at her at the question. She had to force her fingers to loosen around the baby onesie she was holding, her tight grip wrinking the pristine fabric. However, she did not let it show beyond that as she quickly schooled her expression into one of pained laughter. 

“Nope,” she asserted with a tone that made it seem like the suggestion was laughable to her. “Don’t think years of murdering people make you the mothering type. Hardly a nurturer.” 

“I disagree. You were amazing with TJ during his first 5 years. You were always the more nurturing of the two of us.” 

“Even if that were true, it would require me to be attached to a man for more than a night.” She winked at Nakia who merely rolled her eyes with a chuckle, always amused by her sister’s flippant attitude about sex. “And there is not a single man on this continent or Earth I am interested in saddling myself with for a lifetime.” She ignored the vision of a certain prince that popped into her head. 

“There’s not a single man whose company you enjoy in Niganda?” 

She scoffed. “There’s barely a man who can give me an orgasm to enjoy on a regular basis. I certainly don’t enjoy their company. They are merely a necessary means to an end.” She chose to leave out the part where many of her late night callers were men she wanted information out of for the rebellion… her sister hardly needed to know that part. 

“You can’t run from love forever, sister.” 

Naja rolled her eyes. Here we fucking go… A lecture. 

“I’m not running from it. I’ve actively decided I don’t want it. I love this life for you, Nakia. But I… I want something different.” 

Naja knew Nakia was not foolish enough to actually believe that lie. Naja had always been the one who wanted what Nakia now had, not being Queen, but to settle down and build a family once she had the adventures she and Erik discussed. While Nakia had yearned for the life Naja now had but had fallen in love with the King, which came with responsibilities she could not ignore. 

Sometimes those plans haunted her as vivid nightmares of the future she and Erik planned together when they retired from their posts as War Dogs and returned to Wakanda to serve T’Challa and Nakia as advisors and raise a family together. Fifteen years later and she could still see that future clear as day, only now it mocked her for ever believing it could be a reality, for putting so much stock into childhood fairytales and fantasies that could never happen. 

“Love can fit into your lifestyle, Naja. You can have the life you want and make room for love.” 

“The only people I love are in this palace right now. You, your children, T’Challa, Shuri. And our parents… most the time,” she muttered under her breath. “That’s all I need.” 

“I understand. I just don’t want what happened with N’Jadaka to close you off from love forever.” 

“It has nothing to do with him!” Another lie. “Not every decision I make in this life has to do with what he did.” Another lie. She despised just how much of the person she fashioned herself into was because of Erik. But there were some hurts… some wounds she simply could not let go. And no one on this planet, even Nakia, knew how deeply Erik had cut her. Everyone knew he abandoned her and broke off their engagement but their last conversation? That nail in the coffin of their love and friendship? Naja had never breathed those words aloud to another soul. Every time she tried, it felt like the poorly constructed stitches holding it together ripped open and pain flowed as if he had just hurled those words at her. 

“I am not saying it does. I had just hoped… since you have clearly forgiven him and you are becoming friends again, perhaps it had softened some of this. I know a future with him is not possible but that doesn’t mean getting to a better place with him will not open doors for others.” 

Naja paused but this time for some introspection as she tried to find the words to describe her increasingly complex relationship with a certain prince. She had two hearts where Erik was concerned and she had no idea which one would win out each day. One was held together by duck tape, still shattered and reeling from his actions. While the other, the heart that she tried her best to ignore, yearned for him as she did air to breathe and sustenance to survive. For that heart, he was as critical to her survival as the blood it pumped through her veins. And the control over her actions and her brain ebbed and flowed between the two, toggling back and forth in ways that made her increasingly frustrated.

She wanted to hate him, her hate for him was fuel and she was not ready to let it go. Today or ever. Once those feelings were the most clear and easy aspects of her life. And now? They were murky and she found herself wanting to forgive him so she could experience the once-in-a-lifetime love he offered her again. Since he held her the other night, she could not shake the feeling it left her with, the reality of how much she had gone without in the last 15 years. But she could not pretend that the mere idea of giving into that made her feel ashamed of herself. How could she forgive him so easily? He had not even really worked for it yet. She had to make him work for it, she could not let go that easy. She would hold to the tether of her rage and pain until it broke. Because he did not deserve easy this time. 

“I haven’t forgiven him… not yet anyway and I wouldn’t use the words friends. And whatever we are was not intended, believe me. I planned to go to my grave hating Prince N’Jadaka. I still might. But he’s… I don’t know. Every bit the same as I remember and completely different too. And he sees me? In a way no one else really does. So I am willing to give him a chance to earn my forgiveness, prove he’s changed. We are going out together on Friday.”  She glanced over her shoulder expecting to see an excited look on her sister’s face. Instead, she saw an expression she could not read fully. Partially shock but under the surface, Naja could not help but wonder if she saw a hint of anger. Of course, Nakia was able to school her face to throw on a fake smile but Naja noticed it too fast. “What’s that look?? You think I’m completely stupid, don’t you??” 

Nakia cleared her throat and shook her head. “No, no. You’re far from stupid. I just… Just be careful, Naja.” 

Naja scoffed. “I’m surprised you aren’t jumping for joy. Am I to believe the ulterior motive of this whole visit was not to get us back together? Was your husband alone in those intentions? It’s not gonna happen, I don’t want that,” Not really, she added silently in her head. “I just… there’s a part of me that has to know if he really has changed? And I lost a bet,” she admitted. 

“T’Challa and I merely want you and N’Jadaka both to be happy. And be able to coexist for the sake of this family. And perhaps that is best done apart. I just don’t want to see you hurt again. There are things you don’t know about him a-” 

“I’ll never be hurt like that again,” Naja answered sharply, cutting her sister off. She became immediately frustrated by the insinuation that she was anything like the 17 year old girl Nakia and T’Challa had to nurse back to health like a broken bird. As if Erik or anyone could break her again. She was stronger, she was different. “I know everything I need to know about who Erik is now. We’ll never be more than friends.” 

Nakia fell silent and merely nodded, though Naja could tell there was more she wanted to say. “You’re right, you’re right. Sometimes I just get overprotective.” 

Naja immediately felt bad for biting her head off. This was Nakia’s job as her older sister. But Naja already felt rubbed raw by N’Jadaka’s clear advances and effort. Old woulds were open and now her own sister was questioning whether she was strong enough to withstand the inferno that was Erik once again. If Nakia could not see how much she had changed, had she really at all?

“I know and I appreciate it. But I don’t need you or anyone else to protect me anymore. I’ll be ok. I promise.” 

***

Naja barely laid her head down to attempt to sleep when she got a call on her kimoyo beads. She glanced down, surprised to find a voice message from N’Jadaka. 

“Meet me outside. Bring your notes and journals. Got somethin’ to show you.” 

Naja could not help but stare at her beads in confusion. She had seen Erik several times throughout the day and he had not mentioned wanting to see her tonight or that he had anything to show her. 

Despite all of her questions and annoyances about having to leave the palace so late, she still forced herself out of bed and back into the first set of acceptable clothes she could find. Since she worked late nights at the bar and often did her recon and other illegal activities in the dead of night, all of her clothes were designed for stealth and to hide weapons. It was all the clothes she had so even tonight, when there was no stealthing or defending to do, her light black jacket was still home to four well hidden knives and her soft black leggings held spots for two guns, which she chose to leave at home. She stuffed all of her notes and journal into a small backpack.

She slid on her soundless shoes and out of her room with a mere nod to the Dora assigned to her room. She walked through the palace and out to the landing pad, Erik arrogantly leaning against the Royal Talon. 

“That was quick. When I didn’t get some smart ass response, I assumed you didn’t get it.” 

“It’s not too late if you need a dose of smart ass. I always have a few in my back pocket for you.” 

Erik surveyed her body, taking in her perfect curves and toned ass in her leggings. He licked his lips and winked at her. “What else you got back there for me?” 

Naja stopped in front of him and smiled sweetly. “A gun… though I’d prefer a knife. But trust me, you wouldn’t.” 

“How you know knife play ain’t a kink of mine, baby girl?” 

Naja almost choked before she recovered with a shake of her head as Erik burst into laughter. “You’re my least favorite person on this continent, you know that right?” 

“Don’t believe that for a second. Come on,” he gestured toward the Talon as the ramp opened for them to climb on. 

“Does our King know we are stealing his plane?”

Erik merely shrugged as he slid into the driver's seat. “More or less. Not my first time takin’ it out for a little ride. But don’t worry, we’re just going to Shuri’s lab. So we won’t be far.” 

“What’s at Shuri’s lab?” Not that she did not mind going to Shuri’s lab, she enjoyed learning from the Princess and getting to try out new gadgets before anyone else. However, she did not understand why he wanted to go there with her or what he would have to show her. 

“You’ll see.” 

Naja rolled her eyes before sliding into one of the seats. The short plane ride was virtually silent though the tension between them, in such a small space, was palpable. Things had somehow both become more difficult and more effortless between theme since he spent the night two days prior. The vulnerability they shared broke down a few barriers in a way Naja had not expected but she did not know what to do now. She was not accustomed to gray space when it came to Erik. They were not friends, they were not lovers but they weren’t enemies anymore either. They were just something else that she was not prepared to decipher or understand. 

“So are you going to reveal the big secret?” Naja asked as they entered Shuri’s private workspace. She was surprised to not find the Princess in her usual spot. Everyone knew she did her best work in the middle of the night when she should have been resting like everyone else in Wakanda. The Wakandan Palace was filled with night owls.

“Shuri told me we could use the space at night for a while cause she’s working on a different project downstairs. Wanted to show you this,” he took her over to the giant work table which was usually covered in completed or half-finished gadgets. However, tonight, it was filled with notes and papers, treaties, aerial photos, and a giant 3-D map of Niganda. 

“Whoa.” Naja’s hands started grabbing random pieces of paper. There was enough material here to keep her busy for weeks. “What’s all this?” 

“Notes from the other three War Dogs in Niganda from the last year, I didn’t tell them why,” he added at the freaked out look on her face. “I just asked all War Dogs to send an update to make it seem routine. After our talk the other night, I pulled some recon photos we had from before the peace treaty talks started. Figured we could use all this and your notes to piece together some more information. And T doesn’t really come down here unless Shuri invites him so it’s a good spot to do shit we ain’t supposed to be doin’.” 

Naja glanced at him with wide eyes. “You did all this to help me?” 

“There’s nothin’ I wouldn’t do to help you. I know you don’t believe that but it’s true. And you ain’t in this alone, this ain’t just on you to figure out.” 

Erik did not have the heart to tell her that his actions were not totally altruistic. He had his own motivations for finding a reason to end these peace talks with Niganda. His future, or rather the future he wanted, was as tightly wound in discovering what Niganda was doing as Naja’s was, if not more so. 

She sighed, grabbing more papers. “I do now. Thank you, N’Jadaka. Seriously. Also a bit old school don’t you think?” She gestured to the printed papers. 

“Less likely for T’Challa or anyone to notice on our tablets and shit. And stop thankin’ me and let’s get to it, aight?” she nodded with a smile before putting on her game face. “So you said the King is definitely behind the kidnappings? Any theories as to why?” 

“Definitely. Witnesses report soldiers taking the kids. It’s possible it is a rogue faction of the guard doing something nefarious and they are getting away with it because most of the people will think it is the King’s orders. But King Bisi runs the guard with an iron fist, hell, most do not breathe without his command. There are claims that his mental health is waning so perhaps someone in the palace is taking advantage of that? But there are few in his court with the skill to pull something like this off besides him.” She sighed. “And I have several theories but none of them are particularly good and haven’t panned out.”  

“Ok well let’s hear 'em anyway.”  

She started pacing up and down the length of the table. “First I thought intimidation? You know taking the children to keep their parents in line. But that doesn’t explain the first four kids who were all orphans. And the entire country, save the rebels, are already terrified of him. And those with parents… none of them are part of the Front or involved in illegal activity. They are just regular people so that would not make sense. It could be trafficking or labor for the fields? It’s the poorest village of the Capitol and in the country so outside of those of us who live there, no one would know or care that these kids are going missing. The wealthier villages are just happy to remain in the King’s favor. The first few were from the local orphanage, the man who runs it is who sounded the alarm to Dayo initially. But Dayo ruled out trafficking. The kids aren’t showing up in those channels either. Whatever he is doing with them, they are still in Niganda.”

“Yea, and there are a lot easier ways to get bodies… prisoners, rebels. What else?” 

Naja glanced up at him with a helpless expression. “That’s it. If we were finding bodies, we’d have more to go on but these kids are vanishing without a trace.”

“Anything else suspicious happened since this started?” 

“Not really. Two doctors were kidnapped about a week before the kids started. But we found one of their bodies the same week so we assumed they were both dead and fell into something they shouldn’t have. We never found the body of the second one so maybe that’s something?” 

“Yea but most people kidnap adults or kids… kidnapping both is uncommon. What’s the deal with this rebellion anyway?” At her skeptical look, he smiled. “Don’t worry, ain’t gon’ rat you out to T.” 

“How else do revolutions and rebellions start in this world? The people have nothing and King Bisi brutalizes them while leaving them destitute. Dayo… he and a couple rebel leaders were once in the King’s court but he escaped after the King murdered an entire village who was ‘harboring’ a father who had stolen from the palace. He realized that the freedom we deserved was only possible if the king was not in power. He created the Nigandan Liberation Front to overthrow the Royal Family and install a true democracy.” 

Eek could not help but hear how she used the word “we” to describe Nigandan citizens as if she was not a spy masquerading as one of them. Nor could he stop the smallest kernel of hope from blossoming in his heart. If the rebels succeeded, that nagging reminder of the promise he made that he desperately tried to forget, the reminder that his future did not belong to him at all, would be null and void. 

“How likely you think that is?” 

She scratched her forehead. “Honestly, I don’t know. We’re inching forward but it could be years. The King loves his grip on power. Many refuse to join the rebellion because they hold hope that his heir will be different but…” 

“You disagree? You know her?” 

She laughed humorlessly. “No, never met her. Gotten a glimpse of her a few times. She’s been to the village more than once. She’s known for her charity work, feeding and clothing those in need.” 

Erik could hear the disdain in her voice. “That’s a good thing, ain’t it?” 

“Not when she has the power to ensure there are no poor in the country to begin with. Niganda has the money for everyone to live in prosperity. Her father has chosen policies that hoard resources for him, his council, and the wealthy while the rest of the country starves. Many of the country may love her for it but I won’t celebrate someone saving lives when they are the reason the people are dying to begin with. All Princess Imani is doing is keeping the people on life support so they can continue to serve her family and eventually her interests. As far as I’m concerned, she is as soulless as her father.” 

Erik’s eyes grew wide. “Damn, tell me how you really feel. Who knows, maybe she’ll be different.” 

Naja did not look up from the written accounts of one of the war dogs she was reading. “Why do you care so much? It’s not as if you have to live under her rule. You met her?” 

Erik fixed his face to seem as disinterested as he should be. “Only once at an event. She was a bit vain but hella independent. I’d hardly describe her as soulless. Her father? That nigga definitely. But she seemed like she wanted to do some good.” 

“I’ll believe it when I see it. But that’s a ways away, unfortunately. According to the palace, King Bisi is in perfect physical health by all accounts. And despite his age and ailing mental health, the ancestors will have to drag him to whatever heaven or preferably hell is waiting for him before he willingly gives up that throne.” Silence fell for a few minutes before she paused. “Wait… this could be something. Did you read this one from… M’Badu?” 

“Haven’t had a chance to read any of them. What’s it say?” 

Naja stood and walked over to where he sat to hand him the papers, sliding to sit on the table in front of him. “His cover is a doctor at the biggest hospital in the Western Province, smart cover… that’s were all the wealthy go. A life of comfort as you put it. He reported that half of their supply of medications and drugs was stolen the day after the first child was stolen. Things like anesthesia, blood supply… opioids.” 

“So? Could be for a black market or somethin’.” 

“No, I know every major player in Nigandan’s underground… none of them have the manpower, capitol, or balls to pull this off. And they are all egotistical men so they would’ve bragged about a score this big. I never even heard this happened, which is saying something. They still small amounts with the help of doctors and nurses in their pockets to avoid attention. Whoever did this has all those things and sophistication.” 

“Why you say that?” 

“Because… I didn’t think it was relevant but this same hospital houses the country’s largest scientific research center and they had a break in not long ago… about a month before the first child was taken. I don’t even live in that Province and I heard about it. It was the biggest breach of security they’ve ever had. They redid the security for the entire facility and hospital afterward. So this person had to get around all of that and M’Badu said Princess Imani had been there earlier that day visiting sick children. So they had to avoid additional palace guards too.”

“Ballsy to hit the same hospital twice.” 

“Not really when you know the health care infrastructure is crumbling. Biggest hospital in the country and the only significant research facility. If you want as many chemicals and drugs as you can get your hands on, this is your only option.” 

“What chemicals were taken?” 

“They took a bit of everything the facility had. All raw chemicals and drugs that could be used to make a million different things. Dayo and I check the black markets every night to see what will turn up but nothing of note has.” 

Erik raised an eyebrow. “Does T know you frequent black markets this much?” 

“He knows I check to see if there’s vibranium floating around. But does he know I go almost every night and sell what I can get my hands on? Nope.”

“What do you even have to sell?” 

“Whatever I can buy with my War Dog riches without raising attention… and whatever I can steal from the King and the wealthy and give back to the people where it belongs.” 

Erik was shocked, and admittedly aroused, at how nonchalantly she talked about theft. A ruthless spy indeed. 

“How’d you get into that? Also you must not do much bartending on your shifts with all this extra shit?” 

She let out a barking laugh and waved her hand dismissively. “No. Truth be told, I’m a terrible bartender, which Dayo figured out fairly early on. But Dayo is not a fool and recognized I had skills that were far more important to him so he keeps me around to bookkeep for him, manage the bar… flirt with men to get information. And some talents that he appreciates but won’t dare ask how I got. My speciality in the Hatut Zeraze … besides torture and murder, of course, was infiltration. When he realized, Dayo helped me start to steal from the trucks that supply the palace and wealthier restaurants with food and other delicacies. Sometimes from the houses of the wealthy. I take whatever I can and sell it.”

Erik let out a low whistle. “Infiltration… that shit’s hard. I was good at gettin’ niggas to talk but the gettin’ in and out was always my weak spot.” 

She shrugged as she looked down at him from her spot. “I’m surprised. All it takes is being a good liar. And you’re the best one I know,” she mumbled under her breath before she could stop herself. She clenched her eyes closed as she saw the hurt flash across his face. “Sorry, habit.” She stood up from her perch she had taken on the edge of the table by him and moved to the giant screen they had in the room. She started writing the information they had on it. 

Erik let the papers he was holding fall back onto the metal table. “My feelings for you weren’t a lie, Naja. The things we talked about, the life we wanted to have together… none of it was lies… I just… shit happened and I handled it all wrong a-”

Her hand stilled as she heard his words, painfully clashing against the narrative she had created for over a decade. Her heart wanted her to leap and fall but her brain forced her feet to remain planted where they were until he proved he could be trusted again. All of this was a good first step but that was all it was: a first step. 

“Don’t.” 

“Don’t what? We need to talk about what happened. Let me explain.” 

“Look… I want to trust you… get to a place where we can, at least, be friends again, Erik. Because as hard as I try to hate you with my entire soul… part of me will always care for you more than I should. You caught me at a weak moment the other night and I appreciate you being there for me. But nothing that’s happened should make you think the door is open for that conversation. I don’t want to hear you excuses and reasoning… whether or not what you felt was true doesn’t matter anymore. Why you left… why you said those things, none of it matters because it doesn’t change the fact that you left. All that matters is that you did it and you said it. And because of that, we can’t go back. But we can create something new… a new friendship. So all I want to see and hear from you now is something different. That’s all I have space for.” 

Erik’s head fell in disappointment at her words. He knew he should not have gotten his hopes up, that he should have listened to T’Challa and not gotten his heart back invested in Naja because she would never feel the same. He knew that was not the only reason T’Challa had cautioned him to stay away but he had not listened. He never listened. And though he knew he should take her words as fact and accept the friendship she offered, he knew it would not be enough. Whatever time he had left of freedom, he wanted to spend what time he had left with her, choosing her. He also knew her better than any other soul on this Earth, there was more than just care for her too even if she did not want to admit it. 

Luckily for him, Erik was as patient as he was committed. He would not stop trying and he would play the long game to continue softening that barrier between them for as long as he was able.  

“Ok so…” she turned back to him, a determined look on her face as she quickly changed the course of their conversation. “We have missing kids, a doctor, drugs, chemicals, and medication. But no obvious links between any of them. So we have nothing.” 

“The links are always there. We just gotta find them.” 

***

Nakia stalked through the palace, an aura of anger radiating off of her so strong that the few servants walking about immediately moved out of her way as she raced to her husband’s office. She did not give Okoye a chance to knock or announce her presence as she walked inside. She had tried to not let her overprotective nature get the best of her since her conversation with Naja that morning. However, when Ayo alerted her to Erik and Naja taking the Talon for a late night joyride, she could hold her tongue no longer. 

T’Challa glanced up from his tablet as the door opened and she swept in. However, his fatal error was not noticing the look of rage contorting her features. 

“I will come up to bed soon, my love. I need to finish thi- what’s wrong? Is it the baby?” T’Challa immediately jumped up as he realized his wife was not there to drag him from his office to get rest. 

“What part of ‘Tell Erik to stay away from Naja,’ did you not understand, T’Challa??” she exploded. No one except Nakia could yell at the King of Wakanda and the Black Panther. “Because what is happening right now is NOT staying away!” 

T’Challa grimaced. “I told him to stay away.” 

“What did you say exactly??” 

“That she despised him and that she would never forgive him, which is true. Naja won’t forgive him so there is nothing to be concerned about.” 

She shook her head as she paced up and down by his desk. “No it is not true! They are currently Bast knows where in the Royal Talon. He spent the night in her room a few days ago and they are going out on Friday.” 

“Nakia…” his voice took on a chastising tone. “You can’t spy on your sister.” 

“Do not take that tone with me as if you do not spy on N’Jadaka too. You knew this was going on and you’ve said nothing. You’ve DONE nothing to stop it. I will spy on her all I want when she is in harm’s way. Someone has to protect her, no one else in this country seems to.” 

The jab hit exactly where she wanted it to, T’Challa’s face twisting up in indignation. “That is not fair, Nakia. I protect Naja just as I do my own sister. She is my sister in every way that matters. But I cannot stop N’Jadaka from trying to mend fences with her if that is what he wants to do.” 

Nakia shook her head. “This is more than mending fences and you know it. He is in love with her and making her fall in love with him again. And you and I and he all know that cannot happen. The only person who is going to get hurt is Naja.” 

T’Challa shook his head. “What we are talking about is a hypothetical situation that is 10… maybe 15 to 20 years down the road, Nakia. The King will have to die and she would have to choose N’Jadaka among a list of eligible princes. We have years before it is even a conversation and even then, it is only a possibility. The Princess does not even want to get married.” 

“You and I both know that King Bisi did not raise a fool. There may be a list… but every nation on it knows that Wakanda, thus Prince N’Jadaka, is the list. If she is forced to marry someone, which she will have to according to Nigandan law to be queen, there is no one else who would give the Nigandans the power and resources they want and need other than him. Just because N’Jadaka chooses to play the fool and pretend that is not the case does not mean we have to. I am not ok with my sister’s heart being broken in 10 or 20 years either when I can stop it now. Since N’Jadaka and you have clearly forgotten, remind him of the promise he made to this country or I swear to Bast, I will tell her myself.” 

“Nakia… Erik offered his life and future for this country and for us. The life he has led… what he has endured because of what Wakanda took from him… he deserves happiness. He deserves hope even if it is only for a short while. Do not ask me to take it from him. I have faith that N’Jadaka will tell her when the time is right. Before it progresses to anything serious.” 

“No one deserves happiness at the expense of someone else’s. My sister deserves happiness too… with someone who can actually dedicate their entire life to her, not years with an expiration date stamped to them. I love N’Jadaka like he is my own brother and I wish for his happiness as I wish for Shuri’s and everyone else I love. But I will not allow your guilt for what your father did to hurt my sister. He broke her once and I lost her for years because of it but if he does it again, I don’t think she will be able to get back up. Tell him to stay away from her, T’Challa. I mean it. Before this ill-fated date on Friday. And do it properly this time.” 

She did not even wait for him to agree or respond before she swept out of the office, Okoye peering in as if waiting for an invitation. 

“I suppose you heard all of that?”

Okoye nodded. “Our queen’s voice does certainly carry when she is impassioned and angry at you. Did you really believe what you told the Prince that first night would stick?” 

T’Challa’s head thudded back against the soft material of his chair, his hand rubbing his eyes. “I had hope… foolishly perhaps.”

“Seems as if there is a lot of foolish hope floating around this palace since Naja returned.” 

“Do you believe it is my guilt?” T’Challa asked as Okoye handed him a glass of rum from his stash. He sought counsel from precious few people but Okoye was most certainly on that list. 

Okoye sighed. “What did you tell me your father said when you saw him in the Planes? You’re a good man, T’Challa… and it is hard for a good man to be king. You want to do right by him to make amends for what your father did and I understand that. But you, who seems determined to carry the weight of his triumphs and mistakes, aren’t accountable for what King T’Chaka did, the fate he allowed to befall his own family. That was his choice and is it a shame that he did not live to take accountability for that, yes. But that how Bast saw for his life to play out. What Prince N’Jadaka lost? That is not a debt you will be able to repay, my King. Even saving his life won’t do it. And you would be a fool to try… and you are not a fool. Prince N’Jadaka must make peace with what he lost and you, my king, must make peace with your father’s role in it. But denying Prince N’Jadaka hard truths because it makes you feel better about what happened to him will do nothing but hurt him when those hard truths come to call. And they always do.” 

And with those words, Okoye returned to her post outside his office and left her King alone with his thoughts. 

***

“Fuck!” Naja’s frustrations got the better of her as she and N’Jadaka spent another night pouring over all their notes and information. She threw a knife at the wall, the very tip of it lodging into the vibranium. “This is hopeless.”

“We have a good startin’ point. Seems like experimentation of a new drug or chemical or somethin’ is the most likely bet.” 

“Yes but what good is that if we have absolutely no way of determining what they are testing and why?” 

Erik stared at her for a moment and sighed. It did not matter how many nights they spent working on this, it would never satisfy Naja until they… she found each one of these kids and returned them to their parents. 

Naja was fascinating puzzle to him. Depending on the setting and context, he saw a different picture every time he looked at her. When they trained, he saw Naja, the ruthless assassin. She was everything T’Challa said: a lethal beauty… Killmonger’s equal in every way… just as cunning, pragmatic and unemotional as he - maybe more. That night in her room he saw the Naja he used to know, the soft second daughter of the River Tribe who could not wound a fly, much less murder a person. And when they stood among the low blue lights of Shuri’s lab, he saw the Naja he imagined she did not want anyone else to see: a ruthless assassin who was still felt everything far deeper than she should. 

He knew the real Naja was the latter version. Just as Killmonger was not the real him nor was the 18 year old he was before he fled Wakanda. It had taken a brush with death and a year to finally come to terms with the fact that it was not an either/or calculation. The real him was the best and worst parts of all of the hats he wore. He prayed to Bast it would not take the same thing for Naja. 

“Let’s get out of here.” 

Naja looked at him like he had grown several heads. “You’re joking right?”

“We’ve been staring at this shit for hours every night and recycling’ the same theories. Let’s take a break. You know one night ain’t gon’ make a difference.”

“And go where?” 

“For me to know and you to find out. Come on.” And with that, he walked out of the lab. 

Naja stared at his back for a few moments before letting out a soft chuckle and following after him. She followed his footsteps to the elevator, which took them up to the panther opening of the Great Mound. 

“When’s the last time you saw a Wakandan sunrise?” He asked as he walked to the edge of the cliff and sat down, his legs dangling off the side. A small sliver of the sun was visible over the horizon. 

“You remembered?” Her entire body stilled as she looked at him. 

“If I remember correctly, it was the sunrise over the falls specifically but I figured this would do too.” 

While sunsets were always Erik’s favorite thing about Wakanda, Naja’s was the sunrise. Different sides of the most beautiful coin Wakanda had to offer. Naja often snuck out as a child, when she needed to calm her spirit, to the falls to watch Bast bring a new day across all of Wakanda. 

“I forgot how beautiful it was,” she muttered as she sat down next to him. “Niganda has a different sort of beauty to it. But it’s not this.” 

In the distance, she could see a herd of antelope racing by, the sun only barely peeking out. They sat in silence as they both stared out into the distance. Erik could tell that the picturesque landscape was not doing much as her shoulders still hunched forward with the weight of everything she felt. 

“What are you thinkin’?” 

“That I can’t find them…. That all these kids are going to die because I’m too much of a failure to connect the dots. ‘A wallflower who will never be quite good enough’ indeed.” The words of her father rang loudly in her head. Aside from her rage for Erik, he was the other man whose words fueled this version of her, fueled her desperate need to be the best. 

Erik sighed. “You were always too hard on yourself, Naja. Never saw your potential.” 

She wrinkled her nose. “Nobody here saw my potential… my father made sure of that. Nakia’s shadow and nothing more. You know he tried to stop me from becoming a War Dog? Tried to get T’Challa’s father to decline my application.” 

Erik bowed his head. “Yea T told me.” 

“Of course he did,” she chuckled. She brought one knee to her chest and hugged it. “I passed the trainings and tests and he still tried to go behind my back to stop me from doing it. You know that’s why I became Hatut Zeraze? Wasn’t the route I intended when I applied, even Nakia didn’t go that route. But I just wanted to spite him, prove I could do it. That I was built for it. That’s all my entire life has been. Proving I’m worthy… that I’m something to the people who claim to love me. But maybe all of you were right. I should’ve just stayed in Nakia’s shadow.”  

Erik pressed his palms into the warm surface of the mountain’s cliff and scooted himself closer to her so that their shoulders were touching. He placed a tentative hand on her thigh, right above her knee, gently rubbing it. 

Her breath nearly stopped at his touch, tender and loving just as she remembered. She felt everything in that simple touch. It had been too long since she let someone touch her for comfort and in the last week, she had let him do it twice. And this time, she had no desire or inkling to pull away from him. 

“Nah we were all wrong. I ain’t just sayin’ this, Naja but you can figure this out. Your father’s words… my words… they don’t gotta be what you believe about yourself. You can choose to believe that you’re the woman who took all her pain and fashioned herself into a weapon, someone who people quake in fear when they see comin’. You think I ain’t heard stories about you since I got back?” He nudged her with his shoulder causing her to laugh. “You might’ve started down the road cause of me and your dad and whatever else but where you are now? That’s all you. So own that ’n use it to figure this out. You’re the smartest person I’ve ever met. Always were.” 

She sighed and glanced at him. “How is that you always know what to say? It’s extremely annoying, in case you were wondering,” she added with a teasing smile. 

“I always know what to say with you. But only because I’ve always seen all of you.”

“Oof… all of me? Quite the dark picture I imagine,” though she tried to keep her tone light, Erik could see it. The shame in her deep brown eyes that she tried to hide by dipping her head, avoiding his stare. 

“Nah, parts of it are dark… but those parts were always eclipsed by light and vibrancy. There were just too many people contributed to dimming that light. Me included. But from where I’m sittin’, the only person dimmin’ your light ‘n doubtin’ you right now… is you. Can’t hide in the darkness forever, baby girl. Gotta let that sun rise at some point.” 

She rested her cheek on her kneecap, his words settling into her mind. She did not have the words to respond to that. Or rather, she had so many words, so many feelings bubbling to the surface that she did not know where to start. Tears pricked the back of her eyes, forcing them away from him as she pushed them back down where they belong. 

He did not say anything, thank Bast, he merely just took her hand, lending her as much nonverbal support as he could. She squeezed his hand gently, praying that the small gestured conveyed what her words could not. Her thanks for always seeing her even when she desperately tried to hide. 

***

Only T’Challa was at breakfast when Erik arrived, an additional pep in his step despite the somber tone this day usually had for him each year. Today was finally his date with Naja and he would be lying if he said he had not strategically picked today in hopes she would distract him from the painful memories and rage he usually felt. Naja had always been his peace and solace, his place to retreat to. She still was. 

Though she would never call it a date, it was close enough to one for him. To an outsider, it might not have seemed like much. But to him, it was everything. Spending the night with her, working with her every night, solidified one fact he had always known: he was madly and insanely in love with her. And her friendship was not enough… he’d do anything in his power to get her back. 

“Morning,” he offered as he settled into the seat across from T’Challa. 

“How are you today? I know what today is.” The words were simple, T’Challa did not even look up from his tablet as he offered them. 

Erik shrugged. “Just another day like any other day.” As much as he loved T’Challa, in his own way, his father was not a subject he would discuss with his cousin. Ever. “What did you want to talk about?” 

T’Challa glanced at Okoye who merely offered him a dead pan expression that demanded he get on with it. He closed the cover of his tablet and lifted his eyes to his cousin. Erik could immediately since the tension… a power imbalance that was not usually present when he spoke to T’Challa. He straightened up slightly, he was not speaking to his cousin today. Today, he was speaking to his king. 

“You and Naja have been spending quite a lot of time together. Daily sparring sessions. Late night rides on the Talon. You spent the night in her room?” 

Erik raised an eyebrow in confusion. “Is that a question cause seems like you know already?” He and Naja’s sparring sessions were no secret around the palace, they were often a spectacle for training Dora and War Dogs alike. Everything else was not common knowledge, though Erik knew he always had eyes on him. But Erik did not understand what that had to do with him being called to the proverbial principal’s office. 

T’Challa sighed. “Do not do this, N’Jadaka. You will only end up hurting her.” 

“Do what? Stop beatin’ around the damn bush ‘n just say what you need to say.” Erik’s patience was running thin, as it often did when T’Challa clearly had something on his mind but did not want to confront him. Save Naja perhaps, Erik was the only person in the entire palace T’Challa handheld like a child. Like he would pick up and run the moment T’Challa did his job as King and ordered him or told him something he did not like. But Erik was no stranger to hard truths, his life had been shaped by them. There was nothing T’Challa could say that would make him run, not anymore. 

“Stop working her! Naja is not a mark or a challenge to conquer. You are falling in love with her and trying to convince her to do the same because you believe you have time. Time to undo the mistakes of the past, time to try again even if it is fleeting. You made a promise and I expect you to keep it. So stop pursuing something that can never happen.” 

Erik stilled. He had made that promise to T’Challa and the Nigandans in service to Wakanda, a promise that he was assured may not even happen. Had he foolishly held onto that too tightly? Maybe. 

“You told me she didn’t even want to marry. That it was unlikely given Niganda and Wakanda’s relationship.” 

“Plenty of monarchs don’t want to get married, N’Jadaka. But she will because it is her duty. And marriage alliances are one way to cement peace, which puts your name at the top of the list. Frankly,” T’Challa sighed. “You might as well be the only name on the list. I’m sorry… I should’ve been more clear when Naja returned about this. That is my fault.” 

“Wait, wait. Nah, nah, nah. T, I’m just… I’m just gettin’ her back. This is a once in a lifetime shot. Don’t ask me to give her up. Retract my name from consideration. Please.” 

Erik Stevens had never begged another human being in his life, his pride would never allow him to do such a thing. However, for Naja? Pleas were all he had to over, pleas that T’Challa would give him this reprieve as his cousin and not his King. He could not give Naja up, would not give her up. 

“The peace between our countries is fragile as it is, N’Jadaka. Any perceived or real slight could tip the scales. I know it is not fair, I know it is not right. And I am sorry. But you made a promise when we offered up your name that you would serve Wakanda’s interests if chosen. And as your king, I expect you to uphold that. Whether it is 5 years or 20 before she is queen, you are as good as engaged to her. You need to start acting like it.” 

“So what do you want me to do?” 

T’Challa sighed and clenched his eyes closed before saying, “Stay away from Naja. Temper your feelings for her so you can fulfill your duty when the time comes. You can do whatever you want with your life and your heart until then but Naja is off limits.” 

“That an order?” 

T’Challa stood up and walked over to Erik, placing one hand on his shoulder, which he immediately shrugged off in frustration. “I tried to warn you once as your brother and hers. I hoped the knowledge that she still harbored such anger toward you would be enough to keep you away. But I was wrong. I give you a long leash, N’Jadaka and I do it because you have proven yourself worthy of it. But yes. On this subject? This is me ordering you as King. Do not continue to foster feelings you know you cannot act on. Stay away from her.”

Erik’s hands curled into fists. Those were two things he could not do. “Why’d you even offer up my name when you knew she lived there? If she had not come home, were you ever gonna tell her that the man she despises would be her King consort one day? That I would be leading the country she calls home. Were you ever gonna tell me that the woman I loved more than anyone on this planet was living in the country you offered me up to like a prized horse? I didn’t know where Naja was when I agreed to this but you did… and you said nothing.” 

“At the time, I did not owe either of you that information. And I did not say anything because your dedication to this country should outweigh whatever childish feelings you still harbor toward her. Beyond that, Nakia wants Naja here… home with us. I will not pretend as though I do not see this eventuality as a way to push her toward returning here for good.” 

“You’re talkin’ about me workin’ her like a mark? As if you aren’t usin’ this shit to manipulate her into comin’ home. Just like you did to get her back here in the first place. She deserves the truth. She can handle the truth ‘n make her own damn decisions.”

T’Challa scoffed. “Bold of you to say as if you did not abandon her and throw a grenade behind you as you went.” 

“That was different,” N’Jadaka rose from his chair, his rage getting the better of him. “And you fuckin’ know it.” 

“Hardly. You found out the truth of what happened to your parents and instead of trusting Naja with it and what you wanted to go do, you destroyed her to ensure she would not follow. You did not see what Nakia and I saw after you left. It took months to piece her back together. Nakia refuses to see that happen again. Better you hurt her now before she grows too attached to you again.” It will hurt her but it will not break her.” 

Erik shook his head, finding his cousin colder than he had ever known him to be. He was not talking to his cousin who was basically his brother. He was talking to King T’Challa, son of King T’Chaka indeed. “That’s cold, T.” 

“I know… and I take no pleasure in it. I would love for you and Naja to be what you once were. I will even admit that I may have considered it a blessed side effect of her return when I invited her back. But I am King and that means I must often act contrary to my whims of my heart and do what is best for Wakanda. And whether T’Challa, your cousin and brother, likes it or not, what best for Wakanda is that you are free to secure this alliance between Wakanda and Niganda when the time comes. You and Naja’s feelings and complicated relationship do not supersede what Wakanda needs to survive or what this continent requires to avoid another needless war.” 

Erik could not stomach to hear another word. He stood up with such force, his chair screeched loudly against the marble floors. “Yes, my king,” he sneered before marching toward the door, his breakfast forgotten. However, when he got to the door, he stopped. “Your father chose Wakanda and politics over family ’n we all know how that turned out. Thought you would’ve learned from that nigga’s mistakes but I guess you’re more like him than I thought.” 

And with that, Erik stormed out. 

***

Erik fiddled with his kimoyo beads, dreading what he had to do. Words could not describe how much he hated T’Challa in this moment. He was well within his rights as king and things had only gotten this far because Erik allowed himself to have hope - a fool’s errand really. But here he was and now he was going to have to break his own heart and Naja’s again. He hated himself for it. But he had forced himself to hurt her once to fulfill a selfish need for vengeance. He could do it again for his country. He had no choice. 

This was not how he wanted today to go. On today of all days, to have to lose another person he loved, it was too much. 

He pressed the button of his kimoyo beads, calling Naja. He hated how quickly she picked up, a soft smile on her face. 

“Hey,” he offered. 

“Hey… you ok?” She asked. “You sound weird? You better not be calling me to cancel. I let Shuri drag me to get a manicure and pedicure for this…. Painstaking shit if you ask me. I adore her but that girl basically wants to dress me up like a damn doll. I drew the line at her taking me to get my make up professionally done.” At his silence and the grimace on his face, she frowned. “Oh you are canceling.” 

“Yea, I’m sorry.” She clearly tried to hide her disappointment, the deep frown that overtook her features. He did not understand how he did this all those years ago. It felt like the worst form of torture to make himself do this again. And as he struggled to find the words, he realized he couldn’t. So like the coward he was, instead of telling her the real reason he needed to cancel, he said, “T’Challa just dumped a bunch of shit on my plate for the peace talks and it’s pretty time sensitive. Will keep me busy ’n workin’ late for a while. A-and honestly… just havin’ a really shitty day. Wouldn’t be much fun anyway.  Figured it’s only right to free you from your debt.” 

She chewed on her lip for a few minutes before saying, “No worries. Your work and Wakanda comes first and I’m sure you’ve been falling behind since spending every night helping me. All good.” 

“I am… really sorry, Naja. I hope you believe that.” 

“I do. Still have time for our sparring session tomorrow?” 

He could hear the hopefulness in her voice. And that hopefulness felt like a beacon of light in a hopeless situation for him, proof that she felt everything he felt. He lowered the beads so he could not see his face and clenched his eyes closed. He knew he should say no but he heard himself say, “Yea, we’re still on for tomorrow.”  

He could see the small sigh of relief she let out. “Good. See you tomorrow, Erik.” 

He offered her the same refrain before ending the call and tossing the beads across the room in frustration. 

***

Naja paced back and forth outside N’Jadaka’s wing. She knew the Dora stationed there was eyeing her as if she were a madwoman as she muttered to herself while holding a picnic basket and a backpack. 

“What are you even doing here?” She whispered to herself. It took all of two minutes after hanging up with N’Jadaka to realize why he had cancelled, to remember that today was his dad’s birthday. She did not even know how she remembered it, a memory so buried deep in her brain that she was shocked she was able to retrieve it. Every year on this day, Erik distanced himself from everyone and everything without a word. 

One year, when they were 15, she found him at the Great Mound watching the sunset. He had disappeared and T’Challa, Nakia and Naja were sent to find him and bring him back to the palace. Naja, who knew him best, was the only one who knew where he’d be. She did not approach him at first as he sat there quietly, she just watched him. Like a creep, admittedly. But she watched him, took in every bit of his lean teenage form as her heart ached for him more than it should at that age. 

Her heart broke as she heard his deep youthful voice, cracking with the strength of his sobs, offer a prayer to Bast on behalf of his parents, prayed they would come back to Wakanda soon, that they would return to him. She remembered bowing her head as she prayed for the same thing on his behalf. She had never met Prince N’Jobu a day in her life, just knew him as a traitor that most of the country hated, who was likely on the run to avoid facing the consequences of his treason. But even back then, Naja could not believe that was the full story, could not believe that N’Jobu stole what he did for selfish reasons, that he was just a traitor.

And that’s why she was now standing outside his door with a picnic basket feeling rather foolish. But resolved to do what Erik had done for her a few nights ago, show up for him. Because everyone deserved someone to show up for them in their darkest moments. 

She bowed her head to the Dora who shifted to the side to allow her to knock. It only took a few moments before he swung his door open. 

Naja lost the ability to speak as she took in his perfectly tone chest, the deep V that led down to his most formidable and tantalizing weapon. Her brain and the reason for her visit disappeared as a cloud of lust hazed everything. 

“H-Hi.” 

“Hey, everythin’ ok?” He wanted to scream at her that she should not be there. She could not be there. This was the opposite of distance. But try as he might, those words refused to surface. 

“Y-Yea, yea. Everything’s ok. I just… well, I know you didn’t cancel tonight because of work. I know what… I remember what today is. Your dad’s birthday. And if you want to bury yourself in work, I understand. But I figured you could use a friend while you do it. So I brought snacks and liquor and work of my own. And I have Boyz in the Hood queued up on my tablet, which I doubt is still your favorite movie. But I do remember you mentioning your dad liked it so… I thought we could watch while we work.” 

She lifted the backpack and basket in her hands as if to ask him if she was allowed inside. 

This woman, he thought to himself. Something inside him wanted to break down in tears at her thoughtfulness. And before this moment, he was not even sure his body still produced those. 

“Guess it’s my turn to be shocked you remembered all this?” 

“Well… tell anyone and I’ll have to kill you,” she joked. “I remember everything about you too. Much to my chagrin, I suppose. So can I come in?” She asked as she balance back and forth on her heels. 

Right then and there, Erik knew he had an impossible choice to make. He could do what T’Challa demanded and be the Erik that destroyed her or he could be the man he wanted to be. And the man he was and wanted to be loved this woman beyond comprehension, adored her beyond comprehension. 

It was a gamble, a gamble that could cost him her and everything he wanted. But a relationship with her was worth risking everything for… war, damaging his relationship with T’Challa… he did not care. She was worth every risk in this world. 

So then and there, he decided to hell with T’Challa. Fuck his orders, fuck marrying some woman he did not know because of a promise he made years ago. Even if it took every day of the next 20 years until King Bisi was with the ancestors, he would dedicate his life to finding a way out of that promise so he could be with the only woman that mattered in this world. The only person that mattered in this world. 

“Only if there’s some lime cake in that basket?” 

Her entire body, which was weighed down by her nervousness, seemed to lightened as she walked in past him. “As if I’d bring anything else??” 

“You didn’t have to do this. I’m sorry… for canceling on you.” 

Naja waved her hand. “I know I didn’t have to. Probably shouldn’t have. But I lost a bet. Besides, this is way better. What would the Wakandans say if they saw their most feared assassin at dinner with their beloved prince? We’d never live the rumors down. Can’t have anything destroying my… how do you Americans say it? ‘Street cred?’” 

“I thought I was Wakanda’s most feared assassin?” 

Naja tilted her head as if she had to think about it as she sat down on the giant couch in his living room. “Second… did you forget how I was beating your ass on the mat everyday?” 

“You forgot what bet you lost to earn this date, baby girl?”

“Beating me twice hardly means anything when I’ve beat you no less than 30 times.” 

“Touche.” 

He settled on the couch next to her as she pulled out all of their supplies and poured him a drink and hit play on the movie. “Remember when we used to sneak bottles of rum from my dad’s collection?” 

He let out a barking laugh. “Yea I remember you bein’ scared as fuck too. Goody two shoe ass.” 

“One of my endearing qualities back then. Afraid to steal,” she threw back her head and laughed. “Oh if the 15 year old me could see me now.” She straightened up and raised her glass. “To our 15 year old selves? Maybe they be forever shocked and dismayed by our crimes and debauchary.” 

“Cheers.” He chuckled, the first genuine laugh he had all day before clinking his glass against hers.  

They did not talk much as the movie played and they both did their “work,” which really was stealing glances at each other and Naja commenting on the movie, which she had not seen since she last watched it with Erik. 

“Can I ask you something?” She asked him as the movie credits rolled. “It’s ok if you don’t want to answer.” 

“Shoot.” Erik brought the glass to his lips. 

“Did you ever find them? Or at least what happened to them?” 

His hand stilled. He did not know how to answer that without opening a conversation that she explicitly told him was off limits. He never talked about the truth about his parents, let everyone save T’Challa, Queen Ramonda, and Nakia believe what the rest of the country believed: that his parents had dumped him at the border and disappeared with their fortune from stealing vibranium and selling it to the highest bidder. When he thought about the real story, he found it difficult not to fall back into that vengeful 18 year old he was when he left. 

“Yea,” he cleared his throat and sat up. “Didn’t have to look far, they died not long after they dropped me here.” 

She did not seem deterred by the sharpness in his tone as she grabbed his hand and squeezed it. “I’m sorry. I know you doubted it back then but I… I believe that they would’ve come back for you if they could have. Would have faced up to what they did for another opportunity to be with you.” She paused. “Everyone’s fighting to get back to something. And you were worth fighting to get back to.”

Naja did not let go of his hand or break the stare between them as they gazed at each other, their work long forgotten. Erik tugged on her arm, Naja offered him no resistance as his superhuman strength pulled her gently into his lap. His hand cupped her face as he stared into her eyes and saw his future. As breathtakingly beautiful as a Wakandan sunset and sunrise, he saw everything he wanted in this world, his first real shot at happiness. 

“You’re what I’m fighting to get back to. No matter what gets in my way or how long it takes. Rhoqo ukutshona kwelanga nokuphuma kwelanga ubomi bam bonke.” 

Tears glistened in Naja’s eyes as she heard his words. 

Every sunset and sunrise for the rest of my life. As long as she lived, she never forget those words. The words he had said when he proposed, an eternal reminder that they were two sides of the same perfect coin. 

“N’Jadaka…” she breathed. 

The sound of his Wakandan name on her lips drove him insane. Whether a plea to stop or continue, he could not hope to care.

Every fiber of her being, down to her very cells begged her to fall. The sea was right there, the water felt warm and safe and like everything she had ever wanted. And yet, her feet were still planted. Something still made her hesitate. 

And Erik could feel it, every ounce of her that warred with the other. Every cell in her body that pushed her lips to meet his and every other one that begged her to retreat. She was not ready yet, he could feel that… see that. And that was ok. They would have time, he would make sure of it. 

He forced himself to muster superhuman self control and stop himself. He pressed his forehead against hers for a moment, Naja letting out a deep exhale. 

“I want…” she whispered, her voice breaking with the weight of everything she felt for him and wanted to feel for him. She wanted him so badly but she did not want to regret it tomorrow. “I want you so badly. I’m…” she lifted her eyes to the ceiling. “F-fuck if you ever tell anyone I uttered this, I’ll kill you. But I’m scared. Fucking t-terrified. A-nd I’m j-just not…” 

“I understand.” he pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. “For as long as it takes. I meant that shit.” 

“I’m sorry… I should go.” She started to move when he halted her. 

“Stay.” At her weary expression, he amended. “I don’t need that. But I do need you… stay.” 

Naja nodded, there was no resistance left. Erik shifted so he could lie down and Naja laid between his legs on his chest. He pulled a blanket around them and pulled her in tightly as he cued up another movie on her tablet for background noise. 

“And I know… no one can know ‘n this don’t change shit between us,” Erik’s deep baritone filled her ears. 

“No, this time… it changes everything,” she whispered back before closing her eyes to go to sleep. 

Erik watched her sleep for almost an hour, her soft snores reaching his ears. He did not need much sleep so he merely let movies continue playing while he watched her, committing every feature on her face to memory. Once she was deep enough in sleep, Erik slid out from under her. He lifted her into his arms and carried her to his bed. He was surprised she stayed asleep through all of the movement, most spies he knew could wake up at mere shift of a body next to them. 

However, before he joined her, he quietly snuck to his front door, easing it open. He leaned out, getting the attention of the Dora assigned to him. 

“Teela, remember that favor you owe me?” Erik asked lowly, referencing a mission he and the Dora went on to recover vibranium not long after he returned, a mission in which he saved the young Dora’s life. She said she would be indebted to him, a debt he never thought he’d need to call in until now.

“Yes, my prince.” 

“As far as Okoye ‘n that nigga T are concerned, you ain’t seen Naja here tonight or any other night. You got me?” 

The Dora sized him up for a few minutes, Erik could tell she was weighing the pros and cons of keeping a secret from her superior and King for the prince. However, thankfully, she merely nodded and saluted him, her nonverbal agreeance to his words. 

“Preciate you.” 

And with that, he closed his door and returned to his bed. Tonight, he would not think of how he would hide what he was doing, tonight he would not think of how he was going to help overthrow the very monarchy he was promised to, tonight he did not think of how he was going to hide a potential engagement from the slumbering woman next to him. Tonight, he merely reveled in the feeling of Naja in his arms and the peace she brought, a night where his heart was calm and at ease.  

Tag list: @miyuhpapayuh @pipsqueak-98 @injerafiend @themakingsofdion @lishabaybee @certifiedlesbianbaddie @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @dangerous-history @roguekiki @mysteryuz @shyblackgurl

***

A/N: le sigh... everybody's lying to our girl smhhhh lol so hopefully you caught the couple hints in chapter 3 that Erik was keeping some secrets. But hopefully you also caught the hints that his impending nuptials are not the only secrets he is holding back. So what do you think? How do you think this is going to blow back on him? Cause you know it will lol Drop a comment and let me know what you thought! Thanks for reading!

[squaric-acid]

Rewatching PotO (2004) in 2024

~ A needless commentary. Please note that I first watched this movie seven years ago, in 2017. ~

I like the Wizard of Oz thing they do by having the prologue scene in black and white.

Is the Madam Giry in the prologue supposed to be Meg or her mother, it is unclear.

The costumes are decidedly not bad for a piece of historical fiction made in the early 2000’s.

I adore the chaos and attention to detail of the establishing shots of the Opera Populaire during a rehearsal.

All the costumes in this movie are good except for Christine’s during Point of No Return, like what the fuck was that.

I like that Raoul is introduced in person during the rehearsal scene and that Christine gives us some background on their relationship. Her saying they were childhood sweethearts makes the set up of their love story stronger, like they both obviously still harbored feelings for each other during the interim of their childhood and the events of PotO. In the stage production this is less obvious.

Was it really necessary to have the new managers make lecherous comments about Meg and Christine?

Emmy Rossum is very stiff during Think of Me, in contrast to the scene of her dancing just prior where she is very expressive. I’m not sure what to make of this, it’s only an observation. I want her earrings from this scene though.

The Phantom’s lack of a hat makes his head look small and Gerard Butler does not have a small head.

You can tell that the theatre they are in isn’t actually very big.

The dubbing does not sync well to the mouths of the actors.

Meg Giry is adorable.

Christine’s dress during Think of Me looks suspiciously like a wedding dress.

How can you not ship Christine and Raoul in this movie? They’re so cute together.

Not the slow-mo of the candles blowing out.

The arms holding the candelabra are weird, like icky weird, and remind me of the Haunted Mansion.

I do have to admit that Gerard Butler in that cape is really something, he does look good as the Phantom, even without the hat during Phantom of the Opera. I appreciate the electric guitar during that scene too.

It’s not subtle that they used the same archway more than once. And what happens to the horse, where did he go?

Erik’s lair really gives Pirates of the Caribbean ride vibes.

Was the dramatic cape removal necessary?

Why does he just leave her sitting in the boat?

RAMIN KARIMLOO WAS GUSTAVE DAAÉ?!?!!!! And I was supposed to find about this on my own?!?!

Gerard Butler as the Phantom is peak early 2000’s pathetic sad boy.

The dubbing continues to be bad which really impedes the impact of Music of the Night. The blocking isn’t bad though so I’ll focus on that.

Bro, not the mannequin! And the way he sets her in the swan? Hilariously creepy.

The scene of Meg discovering the passage behind the mirror is so interesting to me. What a great piece of character exploration! I wonder how much this version of Meg knows about the Phantom and inner workings of the opera house, surely she isn’t blind to her mother’s association with the Opera Ghost.

Madam Giry demonstrating the use of lasso was a girl boss moment.

How on earth did he not feel Christine prying at the mask?

I wish they would’ve used more drastic makeup and prosthesis for the Phantom’s deformity. Or at least let the camera focus on it for a tiny bit longer. We get basically nothing of it in this scene.

I forgot that they cut back to the black and white of the prologue (a continuation of it).

Just how much is 20,000 francs in 1870 worth today?

Those skull wax seals are cool.

Was the mooning of Carlotta necessary? Funny though

Minnie Driver is hilarious. The Prima Donna scene is fantastic.

Erik doing dastardly deeds in his fancy clothes is iconique.

Where is the musical cue for “Did I not instruct that Box Five was to be kept empty?”?! It sounds like an announcement at a train station!

Where on earth was Buquet to have seen the Phantom standing near the chandelier?

Only in the movies does cutting back and forth between the ballet from act three and the Phantom chasing Buquet around the flies really work. It makes the scene much more tense but is also amusing because we seen the Phantom doing stunts in his fancy clothes.

They really wanted to make this into a movie musical but did a poor job of integrating the music into the action of the movie.

I love the set design in this movie if nothing else.

If anything Gerard Butler’s Phantom has the least awful face of any rendition of the Phantom.

I can’t imagine this movie being made today, it would be an auto tune nightmare.

What is it about well-dressed pathetic sad boys of the early 2000’s variety?

You can’t fault Gerard Butler’s acting when he cries into the rose.

I take it back, why was the dramatic run so popular? It looks ridiculous.

I love Christine’s dress for the Masquerade scene. And Raoul looks dashing too.

The silver and gold fan choreography is neat. I also especially appreciate that only Christine and the Phantom are wearing shades of red.

Where are the fics of the Phantom and Madam Giry as children? That’s the story I want to hear.

Raoul sleeping, obviously on guard, outside the ballet dormitories is so endearing.

Showing that the Phantom knocks out the guard and is the one to take Christine to the graveyard closes the plot hole about how he knew she would go there. And it demonstrated just how obsessive he is about her.

I don’t know a lot about how funerary monuments worked in the 1800’s but how could the Daaé’s afford such a mausoleum?

The reprise of Angel of Music was very good. Excellent use of lighting.

The Phantom jumping down from the roof of the mausoleum is rather ruined by the fact his cape flipped over his head and he had to put it right.

The fight scene wasn’t the most coherent but it wasn’t outrageous either. I like the skull shaped guard on the Phantom’s sword.

Erik saying “let it be war upon you both” is undercut by the fact he didn’t say that it would be war between him and the managers earlier.

They cut back to Raoul coming up with his plan to ensnare the Phantom after the scene in the cemetery. I think it’s narratively out of place given the events of the scene of the graveyard. Christine’s lament, Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again, which both about her missing her father and about gathering the courage to bid goodbye to her angel of music. Which Christine felt she had to do because of the plan Raoul came up with.

Christine’s protestations about Raoul’s plan being spoken rather than sung works well in my opinion. But there’s a certain angst to how hysterical Christine sounds in the stage production.

Seriously, the Don Juan costume for Christine sucks.

The reveal in the stage production was better. They mention the hood of cloak in the song, the hood hides the fact that it’s so obviously not Piangi, anyone with eyes would’ve been able to see it wasn’t the same guy.

The background dancers, lol.

All the shots cutting to Madam Giry lowkey make it seem like she was secretly in love with the Phantom.

They could’ve made Point of No Return more tense.

Why does the Phantom’s wig look so bad before Christine pulls off his mask?

Now his disfigurement actually looks appropriate.

Madam Giry literally brought him to the opera house and he went willingly, the Phantom calling it a prison isn’t super accurate.

Erik has too much hair in this version. But props to Gerard Butler for killing it in the final scene in the Phantom’s Lair.

I like the detail that the cut on Raoul’s arm starts bleeding again due to all the action. It looks weirdly real though so maybe it was unintentional. I have not seen any behind the scenes footage to confirm this.

Why is Meg at the forefront of the mob? Why was she so interested in the mask? Is it supposed to be a hint about Love Never Dies? There is too much focus on Meg and Madam Giry’s involvement with the Phantom to just be as it is explained.

I adore the implication of the rose at Christine’s grave. Perhaps the most emotionally impactful moment in the whole movie.

7/10

Love the costumes and the aesthetics. The final scene at Christine’s grave was a very nice extra bit. Not as good as the stage production but enjoyable. The acting seemed a bit stiff and underwhelming but lots of movies from the early 2000’s were. I prefer the 25th anniversary performance but who doesn’t?

I can’t speak to how it compares to the book because I haven’t read it (I will sometime)

[aquared46]

Heat Wave

It was an unbearably hot summer, even by South Carolinian standards. Sweat pooled on Neil’s skin despite having taken another cold shower less than an hour earlier. The air conditioning died, so they had half a dozen fans blowing air around the living room; lights out and curtains drawn.  

Neil long since moved from the couch to the floor, rolling to a cooler spot when the laminate beneath him felt too hot and sticky under his bare skin. It was just him and Andrew; Nicky travelling in Germany to visit Erik, Kevin spending time with his father, and Aaron studying for yet another exam. He and Andrew had been looking forward to this trip. Neil didn’t expect anything just because they were alone, but he certainly didn’t think he’d spend the weekend melting into a puddle on the floor.

Andrew called many times to have someone come for repairs, but apparently many were having problems and thus they were put on a wait-list. He was waiting for a call back, dressed in a loose tank-top and steadily working through a melting bowl of ice cream.

Neil reached for his glass of water, the ice cubes almost melted. He took a sip and them pressed the blessedly cool glass against his cheek.

Andrew peeled his legs from the leather couch and finally joined Neil on the much cooler floor. He put up a valiant fight.

“Nicky has a kiddy pool in storage somewhere,” Andrew said. “And a hose.”

Nicky had a lot of things in storage at the house. Neil was amazed he managed to cram so much into so little space with the minimal storage they had in the garage and closets. Sitting in water in the shade of the backyard sounded like a wonderful idea, but they’d need to find the pool first. It also meant Neil would have to put his clothes back on.

“Do you have any idea where it is?”

“I haven’t seen it for a couple years. Try under the tarps.” Andrew stole Neil’s glass and downed the rest of the water, then began chewing the ice cubes. “I called the company. It’s your turn to be useful.”

With a groan, Neil rose to his feet. He dressed in a fresh t-shirt and some thin, ratty jean shorts before heading out to the garage. The heat permeated even there. He dug around in some of the junk Nicky had stored, noticing that some of it should’ve been in the garbage instead, included the holey tarps repaired with enough duct tape that even Neil considered them a lost cause. Sure enough, underneath those Neil found a light blue pool with assorted cartoon sea creatures covered in dust. The hose was thankfully close to the door, although it was kinked and knotted from not being rolled up properly.

He dragged everything outside and wiped the sweat from his face with his t-shirt. He spotted Andrew watching him from one of the windows, the curtain pulled aside just enough to show a sliver of this face. He didn’t emerge from the house until Neil already successfully connected the hose, washed the dust off the pool, and began filling it under the shade of one of the two trees in the yard.

Andrew walked up and tossed his phone and keys to the side. He grabbed the hose from Neil’s hands and doused his head with it. Water splashed in Neil’s face when he shook his hair out like a dog. Without warning, he turned the hose on Neil.

Neil sputtered as it caught him in the face, but he turned around so Andrew could drench his back as well, the cool water a relief against his overheated skin.

The pool was hardly big enough for both of them, but they made it work, pressed shoulder to shoulder, wet clothes clinging to their skin. When the pool was full, Neil had to get up to turn the water off and Andrew took the opportunity to claim more space for himself.

Neil splashed him when he returned. “Shove over.”

Andrew didn’t move.

Fitting himself into the leftover space, Neil cupped a handful of water into his palm, then let it slowly run through his fingers onto the top of Andrew’s head.

“I’ll drown you,” Andrew said.

“You can try.”

After a mad scramble of limbs, Andrew managed to grab the back of Neil’s shirt and dunk him in the small amount of water left in the pool. Andrew released him immediately afterwards, mouth only twitching in response to Neil’s laughter.

One of Andrew’s legs was thrown over Neil’s during the struggle. Neil waited for Andrew to pull away, but he stayed where he was, fingers idly trailing up Neil’s side where his shirt rode up. Neil relaxed into the touch, sighing when Andrew traced the dip of his waist.

Neil’s clothes clung to him uncomfortably, the water was starting to warm up and feel more gross than cool and relaxing, but Andrew’s eyes were dark and when he leaned in for a kiss, Neil couldn’t up but rise up to meet him.

They couldn’t do anything much in the backyard. It was private enough with the neighbour’s fences, but was still far too open. Neil wished for the privacy of a vacant roof or the four walls encasing their bedroom, but the roof wasn’t available and the bedroom was a sauna.

“It’s too hot,” Neil complained against Andrew’s lips.

Andrew ducked his head to kiss Neil’s throat, his hum reverberating against Neil’s skin. “I’m going to start burning things if they don’t get our air conditioning on soon.”

“Fire would only make the problem worse.”

“That’s not the point.” Andrew pulled back and ran his fingers through the water. “This feels like a warm bowl of soup. It’s disgusting.”

“It was your idea.”

“You’re the one that executed it.”

“It was also your idea to come to Columbia. If we stayed in Palmetto, we could be at the court. Which has air conditioning.”

“We could also be playing Exy. I’d rather be soup.”

With the pool needing a refill, Neil got up to get the hose running again. It wasn’t so bad with the fresh water, and Neil figured he’d need to keep replacing the water in the pool consistently for it to be bearable.

When Neil rejoined him, Andrew went from running his fingers though the water to running them over Neil’s skin instead. Casual touch was nothing new to them – especially when they had privacy. Neil was familiar with stolen kisses in the kitchen before anyone else awoke in the house in Columbia. He was delightfully accustomed to caresses along the small of his back when Andrew passed him, quick and subtle while everyone else remained oblivious. A tap on the wrist, a tug on a sleeve, a nudge with a shoulder.

This was similar, but different. These touches were charged with the frustration of not being able to take them any further. Neil draped an arm over Andrew’s shoulder, tangling his fingers in damp hair as Andrew explored his body with deceptive innocence.

A touch on Neil’s collarbone under his shirt, pressing against a fading hickey Andrew left days earlier. A touch on Neil’s knee, fingers splayed the same way they were on Tuesday when Andrew pushed Neil down on the dorm bed and gave him a blowjob before Kevin returned from his classes. A tug on Neil’s hair, followed by a soft caress of his jaw – reminiscent of the first time Neil sucked Andrew off a month earlier.

Neil couldn’t help but shiver, meeting Andrew’s lips again, moaning quietly. He was about to suggest they go inside despite the heat when Andrew’s cellphone finally rang.

Andrew pulled away to answer, voice tinged with impatience as he answered questions. When he hung up, he gestured for Neil to get up. “Fifteen minutes.”  

Neil was torn between being glad their air conditioning would be on and being frustrated that they had to interrupt when they did. He wrung out his clothes the best he could before heading inside. He ended up having to mop up the floor after Andrew anyway, who left his sopping clothes on the bathroom floor while he put on fresh ones to meet with the technicians. One day of heat and they already had a full load of laundry they’d need to do.

He heard voices while he was in the middle of filling the washing machine, and he investigated only enough to see Andrew talking with a guy and a girl who seemed to be the technicians. Neil just finished cleaning up when he felt blessedly cool air blowing from the vents.

Neil was heading back to the living room when Andrew intercepted him in the hall, grabbing the waistband of Neil’s shorts to pull him towards the bedroom.

“They’re gone,” Andrew said. “Yes or no?”

Neil’s ‘yes’ was murmured against Andrew’s throat. He didn’t care that the air conditioning had only been running for a couple minutes. It was still too damn hot, but Andrew’s mouth was hotter. It’d cool down by the time they were finished with each other.

[night-unfurls-its-splendour]

When the Longing Returns (Phantom of the Opera 2004 Fanfiction) || Erik x Christine

Ch. 6 Author's Notes

Read the Fic here on tumblr or on AO3

◇ She glanced down and admired her ring, which had taken on a unique colour in the dank, low light of the canal; not red, nor green, nor gray but something which bridged all of them and bound them into one indescribable hue.

Imagine an effect like this

◇ I don't doubt you take wonderful care of him, and I know the stables for the stage horses are in the cellars in any case, but... only he must be awfully lonely, without the other horses..."

Book Canon: Chapter 7, "Faust and What Followed”: "What stable?" "Why, yours, sir. The stable of the opera." "Is there a stable at the opera? Upon my word, I didn't know. Where is it?" "In the cellars, on the rotunda side..."

◇ The little ballet brats to whom she gave sweets and told fairy tales idolised her; the aged seamstresses and tailors, who always found in her good taste and a helping hand, thought her the dearest creature in the world.

Leroux Reference: Chapter 12, "Above the Trap-Doors", another reference to Christine's relationship with the lower-ranking denizens of the opera:

"It is the dancing school, for those girls ages seven to nine or ten. Already they wear low-cut bodices, fluffy tutus, and pink stockings, and they work and work, their little feet aching, in the hopes of becoming ballerinas, or prima ballerinas, covered in diamonds. In the meantime, though, Christine gives them candy." "And so she took him all over her empire, which was artificial, but immense [...] and inhabited by an army of subjects. She passed among them like a popular Queen, encouraging their work, sitting in store-rooms, and giving good advice to those seamstresses whose hands hesitated to cut the rich cloth that was to clothe heroes. [...] They had all come to like her because she took an interest in their troubles and their little quirks."

◇ "I don't remember her very well... a professor’s widow who was very fond of Papa's music. Madame... Valerius..."

Book Character!: In the book, Madame Valerius, and her husband the Professor, are a wealthy couple from Gothenburg who discover Christine and her father performing at a fair. Mme. Valerius considers Papa Daae a musical genius and the couple immediately become the patrons of the fiddler and his daughter, bringing them to Brittany when Madame must move there for her health. The widowed "Mama" Valerius, as she becomes to Christine, then funds Christine's education at the conservatoire following Papa Daae's death, and Christine lives with her as her ward/adoptive daughter in an apartment on the Rue-de-Notre-Dame-Victoires. — In the canon of my story, Mme. Valerius was already a widow when she discovered Christine and Gustave. She would happily have taken Christine as a ward as she does in the book, but Christine is significantly younger here and the aged dame was too ill to take in a child; she did, however, pay for Gustave's funeral and burial, and left Christine an inheritance to be held in trust until her twenty-first birthday or until she marries. She's passed away by the time the story begins.

◇ That had been at the end of August, when the trees were still green...

ALW Reference: No one has yet commented on the reference to "Beneath a Moonless Sky" I sneaked into in Chapter 4, and that's fine. This one, however I do want to actually draw attention to. This is, of course, a reference to the most common lyrics to "Think of Me" in the stage version of PotO: "Think of August when the trees were green Don't think about the way things might have been" These lyrics were not used in the film, however; as with most of the songs, the older libretto from the original cast recordings was used. Because this line got axed from "Think of Me" in the film, I thought it would be a great opportunity for me to reference this here. "Think of Me" is often regarded as foreshadowing the "inevitably" ill-fated romance between Erik and Christine. And yet "Think of Me" has very little association with Erik. It's never referenced in any of his leitmotifs. It is, however, majorly featured with Christine and Raoul. Raoul recognizes Christine as she sings this song, and launches into his nostalgic recollections of their brief, youthful romance/crush over a single summer in Brittany. Immediately following Raoul's interruption solo, Christine resumes with this line: "Flowers fade, the fruits of summer fade They have their season, so do we" "Think of Me" is referenced during "Masquerade", as Christine and Raoul have their little moment off to the side regarding their engagement, which Christine insists on keeping secret. So if this song indicates an ill-fated romance between Christine and anyone, isn't it really Raoul?

◇ She had poured the depths of her soul out to her good genius.

Leroux Reference: In the book, Madame Valerius is the only person who knows of Christine's secret lessons with "The Angel of Music". In fact, it is she who reinforces Christine's belief in the divine nature of "the Voice".

This phrase, which is rendered by Lowell Bair as "guiding spirit" and by Leonard Wolf as "Good guardian spirit", is used by Mama Valerius several times to refer to the Angel of Music (so called). The translation I have chosen to use is the phrase found in the original 1911 version.

Though Erik certainly is a genius by the best known definition of the word (an individual possessed of great talent or intellect. Alternatively, the talent or intellect belonging to such a person), its use here is in the more archaic, spiritual sense of its Roman origin (an attendant manifestation or spirit similar to a guardian angel.)

◇ Her poor wrist! God, what if he'd bruised it? If he'd marked her blameless skin with his unworthy hand? That alone would deserve death.

Leroux Reference:

In Chapter 22, “In the Torture Chamber”, during the book's climax, Christine (having clumsily attempted suicide by banging her head into the walls) is bound to a chair by Erik to prevent her from further harming herself.

In the course of events, she convinces him to untie her (an attempt to assist Raoul and the Persian, trapped in the torture chamber next door), and upon freeing her, Erik makes this utterance: “Oh, Christine! Your poor wrists! Have I hurt them? That alone is deserving of death.”

◇ When she, with tearstained face, but steady hand, had offered his mask back to him, those months ago in the lair, in that moment, Christine had become fully real to Erik. Neither a perfect angel, nor a mocking vixen, but a real woman; prey to curiosity, but capable also of understanding. And though—shaken as he was by her exposure of him—he had pushed it down so that it would not show on his face, his love for her, his desire to wed her, had never been so resolved.

This is a little homage to a quote by Hal Prince, the original director of musical, in reference to his interpretation the unmasking in the First Lair:

"She sees his face. We don't—the audience doesn't—but she sees what's behind that mask early in the evening. She recoils—wouldn't we all?—but then she does something very sensitive [she gives the mask back to him], and that's the moment when, I think, he falls in love with her."

I don't know that I fully agree with Hal here; I suppose his implication is that Erik's motivation up to this point has been primarily sexual.

It's my perspective, though, (especially in movie Canon, where Erik's emotional relationship with Christine has a lot more history) that Erik, of course, already loves Christine, but that this is a turning point: though Erik seeks to draw out Christine's confidence in herself and her desires as a woman, he is guilty of idealizing her in his head. Up to this point, she is a perfect fantasy angel who will love him for his voice and his music so much that what he's hiding behind his mask won't even be of import to her.

The Unmasking, though unquestionably a trespass by Christine, was a vital occurrence which shattered Erik's Fantasy Christine (embodied by the bride doll) and allows him to see her as the flawed human she is. In the moment of shattering, Erik lashes out at her for breaking these expectations and seemingly confirming his worst fears—she is a viper, a demon, a vixen; but when she, in an act of silent apology, returns his mask to him, the two Christines in his head resolve into one and he is able to see her as a whole person, a Living Bride, so to speak, and that depth only makes him lose himself to her more completely.

◇ That ring he had offered her as the token of himself and all his worldly goods suddenly weighed on him, for it was also a souvenir of the time of his greatest sins... the rosy hours of Mazandaran...

Leroux Reference: This ominously idyllic phrase "The rosy hours of Mazandaran" is used frequently in the book by both Erik and the Persian to refer to Erik's time working for the Shah—especially when concerning his work of torture and assassination.

Both recall this period negatively: Erik with resentment, The Persian with horror.

There's a cryptic mystique to this very specific phrase, and neither its origin nor meaning are ever fully explained in canon.

Depeche Mode References:

◇ The pain had been unbearable, the echoes of their joyous voices creating a beating in his brain....

From "Barrel of a Gun" off of Ultra:

“An unbearable pain A beating in my brain That leaves the mark of Cain Right here inside”

I imagine this is exactly how Erik felt listening to "All I Ask of You".

◇ “He seemed to crumble in front of her, uttering a pitiful sound.”

From “In Chains” off of Sounds of the Universe:

“I know I crumble when you are around Stutter, mumble a pitiful sound Stagger, stumble, shackled and bound In chains…”

This one is very out of context. It wouldn’t even count if I hadn’t added the line about him making a pitiful sound, but I was re-writing this paragraph and I saw the potential and couldn’t resist.

◇ He did not deserve her, but he suffered enough from greed that he would not refuse the mercy she offered him.

From "Mercy in You" off of Songs of Faith and Devotion: “You know what I need When my heart bleeds I suffer from greed A longing to feed On the mercy in you”

[free-pool-trash]

happiness - peter maximoff

yay a new peter fic <3 i was feeling a little unmotivated for a few days (since our boy wasn’t in episode 8 at all :/) but im back 😎 although im back in school so i might be on and off for a while 😩✋🏻

!!!it’s not a songfic those lyrics at the start are just my inspo!!!

word count: 5k <3 😳

warnings: maybe swearing but i dont think so i cant remember, peter being sad, angst, but mostly fluff, WandaVision spoilers maybe??? I pretty much made up this plot so idk, endgame spoilers, reader was an avenger, kissing but it’s not graphic😽 probably some mistakes yk how it is

feedback is appreciated <3

tagging: @enchantedcruelsummer (should i make a peter maximoff taglist? let me know and I’ll do it)

masterlist

haunted by the look in my eyes that would’ve loved you for a lifetime

leave it all behind

& there is happiness

Loneliness had always been something that plagued him. That and a plethora of other negative emotions.

There wasn’t a day that went by where Peter Maximoff wasn’t made to feel like a loser. Admittedly, he’d never held himself to a high standard, he grew up thinking that he’d never fit in anywhere and eventually that thought mutated into a lifestyle as he began isolating himself from the world around him, either far too good or heartbreakingly not enough to be a part of that crowd.

He liked spending time with himself. Nobody else knew him the way he knew him, and still, he found nothing but an overwhelming hollow space where his deepest most important hopes, aspirations, dreams and self discoveries should have resided.

Peter had always put this feeling of exile down to the fact that he was a mutant, it was the most likely explanation, right?

It was only when he’d decided to join the X-Men that he finally came to the conclusion that maybe the rest of the world wasn’t the problem, nor was his mutation the problem, but that he himself was the problem. For even in a school full of people exactly like him he was still the same loser that he was in his mother’s basement.

And he was under no illusions that that was exactly what his teammates saw in him; nothing. No potential. Just a space holder to bring the numbers up.

Super speed was incredible. That’s how Peter acknowledged jobs well done, he praised his speed but never himself. He just saved Charles and Erik from a room full of armed guards? No that wasn’t him, that was simply his speed. He saved an entire mansion full of people from a potentially fatal explosion? Nothing special, Kurt probably could’ve done the same.

Forget all of the good deeds and saved lives because the bottom line of it all, to him at least, was that all he was good for was cheeky one liners and hopeless kleptomania.

His life took a turn for the worse when he found himself being mind controlled in an alternate universe. And even then, he was playing the part of someone that wasn’t him, the thought humbled him, reconnected him to his roots and reintroduced him to his life long philosophy that he’d never be anything more than a social pariah. Not even an alternate reality could accept him for who he was. There wasn’t a warm welcome and despite not knowing what was going on, the definition of “imposter” or the weirder, “recast”, still shot to kill.

He settled on the notion that he was an inter dimensional waste of space. At least in WestView he could be blissfully ignorant, let the real him be drowned mercilessly in favour of being an integral part of someone’s life- to feel important, even if it wasn’t real.

When WestView fell apart he was completely lost. In every sense of the word. In a new world with no way home and as it turned out, nobody was looking for him. Although he didn’t expect anyone to care, it still stung that nobody did. He always hoped that one day Erik would step up as a father figure for him, this; getting kidnapped and smuggled into a different dimension, seemed like the perfect moment for that epic father son moment, but it wouldn’t surprise Peter if his father has yet to notice his disappearance.

But then, seemingly out of nowhere, he came into contact with a beacon of hope. A guiding star that might possibly lead him to an existence consisting of something other than misery and self loathing.

It offered him a choice; return to being the self proclaimed loser he was known as or start fresh as someone new and mysterious, with first impressions yet to be made and conclusions about him yet to be drawn. Peter had known himself to be rash in the past, when it came to making decisions he had the tendency to act impulsively, never putting too much thought into how his decisions would affect his life in the long term. The choice before him now is no different, he knew exactly what he wanted going forward, however selfish the choice may have been, the second he realised it was an option his heart was set on it.

That previously mentioned beacon of hope arrived to him in the form of a girl, in the form of you. An ex-avenger and close friend of Wanda’s, you were hired by S.W.O.R.D to help them clean up the more ‘sensitive’ fallout that the fall of WestView brought about. Obviously, they were sticking you- the only other avenger with magik- on babysitting and rehabilitation rather than letting you go after your best friend who had gone completely off the rails. Having said that though, you didn’t want anyone else handling him.

You hadn’t watched WandaVision, nor were you even aware that any of it was going on until it had reached a boiling point and you got a call from Monica Rambeau, she’d begged you to come and wait on the edge of town while she went in and act as her eyes on the outside along with Jimmy Woo.

That’s where you stayed until the hex broke down.

As soon as the barrier came down the base you manned was overrun by an armada of terribly confused and distressed citizens, Monica and Wanda were not among them but in their places stumbled in Darcy and the man playing the role of Pietro.

Jimmy appointed himself to Darcy, who in all honesty seemed relatively unscathed by the situation while you made a beeline for the dirty blonde charading as your former, dead teammate.

Peter was, to put it simply, completely enthralled by you as soon as you’d strolled over to him and in the moment he’d put his almost magnetic attraction to you down to the fact that you were the first friendly face he’d seen upon breaking free of Agatha’s possession.

But one thing in particular struck him; you’d asked him his name. You hadn’t immediately assumed him to be some knock off Pietro, as everyone else had. You acknowledged that he had his own personal identity and despite how often he caught himself hating the person he was, he found that when it was torn away from him that he wanted it back. The simple question you posed gave him the opportunity to regain his identity.

“Peter. My name is Peter.” He answered you, almost unsure of himself and you found your interest in the man piqued even further.

He remembered with perfect clarity the way you’d offered him a grin, tilted your hand, extended your hand and said, “Well it’s nice to meet you, Peter. Come on, I’ll be your babysitter for the next while.” There was something about the way you’d laughed after saying the words and the slight, yet unmistakable, glint of mischief in your eyes that had him captivated from the get go.

With you came a whirlwind of new emotions. After only a few weeks of knowing you, Peter noticed he wasn’t as lonely as he had been back home. He didn’t hate himself half as much either, he wasn’t entirely free of self deprovative tendencies and maybe he never would be, but undoubtedly, he likes himself more in this world than he ever had in his last. He thanked you and your determination to make him “a functioning member of society” for that.

It didn’t feel belittling, the way you helped him. You hadn’t dragged him to your favourite mall every weekend just to taunt him about how he couldn’t stop himself from stealing something. Even the very first time, when he’d sped away from you and returned within a second adoring a pair of freshly stolen sunglasses. Your only reaction had been to laugh and casually place your hands on both sides of his face.

“At least remember to take the tag off next time, speedy.” You’d muttered, subtly pulling the tacky stickers off the arms of his shades. No, you weren’t dragging him sight seeing or forcing him to help you go clothes shopping because you thought he was a loser who needed reforming you were doing it because you were a true friend who wanted him to succeed.

The pair of you seemed like two peas in a pod. Which to be fair, you were. Peter Maximoff intrigued you in every sense of the word. He was new, quite literally other worldly, he was kind, he was funny, he was perfectly mischievous and completely wonderful.

What caught your eye the most was the way he held himself, as if he wasn’t entirely comfortable in his own skin. It became apparent to you that he lacked confidence with the phrases he usually tacked onto the ends of his sentences. When you’d invite him to hang out in the beginning his response would always be something along the lines of, “Sure. If you want me to.” But the excitable puppy dog eyes told you that he was dying for someone to want him to tag along some place.

There was a certain understanding between you. You were both more than accustomed with the harrowing feeling of being alone and even though you’d never exactly voiced those thoughts with each other, you couldn’t deny that his was a spirit kindred to your own and he felt it too.

Since the Avengers has disbanded, one of your best friends, Natasha, was dead and your other best friend, Wanda, was gone completely off the rails and the people chasing her wouldn’t let you anywhere near her or even attempt to help pull her out of her darkness. You were being kept as a wildcard in case they needed her taken down. Peter was no stranger to the feeling of being cast aside and so he quickly responded to your frustrations, and in doing so, forced himself out of his comfort zone to be there for you. To his complete shock though, you’d been so appreciative of his efforts.

You never failed to thank him for the little things he did for you, always complimenting his mutation when he’d use it and giving him the recognition he never received at home. The friendship he formed with you was so… two sided, again, something he wasn’t accustomed to before. It didn’t involve him giving everything he had to offer and receiving nothing in return, you matched his energy meticulously and never left him hanging.

In a series of firsts, he didn’t wonder whether or not you genuinely liked him, never feeling the need or want to question it as you’d left him with no reason to doubt.

As he walked around the mall with you now, his mind brought his attention back to the question you’d asked him rather casually a few nights ago. You were both lounging on your couch, watching some ridiculous reality show (a favourite of yours and Peter’s) when you’d turned your head to look at him, a thoughtful look on your face. “Do you think when S.W.O.R.D figures the technology out to crack into other realities, you’ll go back to yours?”

The question had taken him aback for a second, in all honesty, he hadn’t thought about going home, not when he was with you at least and considering he’d become your roommate about three weeks after he got out of WestView, the thought of returning to his old life had barely crossed his mind.

Being an ex-Avenger you were fairly well off, you lived alone in a two bedroom apartment in New York that you’d bought to be closer to Stark tower. Peter had nowhere to go and aside from having a spare room to offer you’d also been sort of lost in the current of the busy city with everyone you once loved in the area either dead, on the run or busy elsewhere.

While the question hadn’t crossed Peter’s mind, it had crossed yours on several occasions. He’d been staying with you for six months and the moment you realised that he was becoming one of the most important people in your life, the thought of him leaving you too weighed on your mind but at the end of the day you wanted him to feel happy. He deserved to feel happy and if going back to his reality brought him that happiness then you’d support him.

“Dunno,” he’d replied, turning to face you, chucking a handful of popcorn at you when you looked incredulous at his response, “To be honest I haven’t really thought about it, m’way too busy babysitting you anyway.” He joked, effortlessly dodging the few pieces of popcorn you attempted to throw at him.

For the last few nights, the question haunted him, but it wasn’t just the question that was bothering him. You were at the forefront of his mind as he replayed the past six months of his life which also happened to be the best six months of his life. WestView put him through hell but coming out the other side of it and meeting you felt like heaven.

He weighed up the pros and cons of returning to his native timeline. The cons: he’d have to leave you behind, he’d go back to being the loser who nobody took seriously, his talents would be downplayed and disregarded and he’d inevitably end up revisiting his lifestyle of solitude. Then there was the pros: he’d get to reunite with his pac man machine. He couldn’t manage to think up anything else.

If he stayed he’d have everything he ever wanted and needed. You’d be there and he knew you always would be, besides he couldn’t leave you knowing that you needed him. If he left who would wake you up when you had night terrors about the catastrophe that your reality was still recovering from? There would be nobody there to comfort you when you woke up from the nightmares, reliving the deaths of Natasha, Tony or Vision and the experience of being snapped out of existence? If he wasn’t there to make you laugh when you were about to cry then who would be? In his heart of hearts he knew you had a huge support system at your disposal, he’d met most of them. Even though he was well aware that Sam visited you as often as he could, that Bucky wrote you letters on a monthly basis and sometimes tagged along with Sam on his visits, that Stephen Strange appeared in your apartment whenever the urge struck him, that the literal god of thunder invited you out for beer whenever he was visiting Earth, that the little spider-kid, also named Peter, swung by your apartment at least once a week to tell you all about school and his good deeds. Despite knowing all of this and knowing all of these people loved you dearly, Peter wanted to be your main source of support, he didn’t want to be someone who came and went, who’d love you then leave you. He wanted to be with you through anything and everything and the feeling that you’d love him for a lifetime had him satisfied with the decision he was about to make.

If leaving his old life meant he could stay here, with you, and experience happiness for more than a fleeting moment then he’d simply; leave it all behind.

“I’ve been thinking about what you asked me the other night.” He spoke through a mouthful of curly fries. You were sitting in the food court of the mall when he decided to let you in on his desire to stay with you indefinitely.

You raised your eyebrow, “You? Putting thought into an answer? Peter, I think I’m starting to become a bad influence on you.” You told him teasingly, taking a long sip of your drink as he rolled his eyes humorously.

“You’re a terrible influence which is exactly why I’ve decided to stay here and put you on the straight and narrow.” The glee you felt at his statement was undeniable, your eyes lit up and your lips curled upwards.

“You’re staying? Really staying?” Your smile was contagious, Peter’s face now painted with a wide grin as he nodded his head.

In a moment of weakness he frantically added, “Y’know only if you want me to though. If you don’t that’s completely cool.” He rushed through the words, feeling more embarrassed when the fond look on your face never faded.

“Of course I want you to stay. You mean a lot to me.” You reassured him, a gentle smile on your lips as you reached across the metal table, intertwining your fingers with his.

Peter squeezed your hand gratefully, holding it in his grasp securely and allowing his smile to return to his face, “I know. You mean a lot to me too.” It was somewhat of an understatement, he was starting to understand that you didn’t just mean a lot, but that you meant everything.

His resolution lifted a huge weight off your shoulders that you wouldn’t be losing yet another best friend. You were glad he’d be with you when everything blew over with Wanda, the two of them definitely had the potential to develop a beautiful sibling relationship and they both deserved that. Of course, Peter would never replace Pietro and having known them both it was obvious just how different the two men were, the only thing they had in common being their powers and last name. Still, he and Wanda would still be able to work on it. He didn’t hate her after WestView and you knew Wanda well enough to know that she was kind hearted and she’d be more than willing to give him a chance. When she eventually comes back to her senses, that it.

As the months went on, life with you and Peter seemed to only get better. You never stopped laughing, your nightmares died down and Peter had taken on a whole new lease of life. Yourself and Peter were the perfect example of meeting the right person at the right time, you balanced each other out and accentuated the other’s good qualities.

Peter could now say with complete confidence that he was happy and what’s more is that he was finally sure that he was making someone happy.

Up until nearly eleven months of living together your relationship had been purely platonic, save for the constant flirting but flirtation pretty much ran in yours and Peter’s blood. Peter wasn’t going to lie to himself, he’d fallen for you the second you’d peeled the security tags off his stolen sunglasses.

You, on the other hand, had been fighting with yourself because yes, you love Peter but you couldn’t have told him when there was the possibility he’d eventually leave and now so much time has passed and you’ve got such a good thing going you didn’t have it in you to ruin it.

However, all of that changed when your original Maximoff best friend came knocking on your door.

Wanda was on the run. She’d caused an amazing amount of chaos but Stephen Strange and S.W.O.R.D were hot on her trail and now she needed a place to lay low with the twins. She figured there was no place more reliable to go than to the always open arms of her best friend, who conveniently had a divinity for earth magik and could muster up a protective barrier without raising suspicions. And that’s exactly where she found herself; outside your door.

You’d been chasing Peter around the apartment when you heard the knock on the door. Peter was on the opposite end of the kitchen to you, using the bar as a shield from you. “You better get that.”

“Oh you’d like that wouldn’t you?” You glared as you spoke, it was his own fault really. What sort of idiot jumpscares a witch while she’s mid-meditation? He’d frightened you so badly you accidentally blasted a ball of your signature green energy and ruined your favourite couch throw pillow. When you were ready to pounce on the scared speedster the knocks sounded again, more frantic this time.

With one last glare towards Peter you stomped towards the door. Your anger melted away completely when you saw her. Her hood was up and she looked completely exhausted, two small hooded little boys by her side.

“Wanda…” You breathed out, relief flooding your system at the sight of her alive. She didn’t get a chance to speak before your arms were pulling her against you tightly, hugging her as if your life depended on it. Wanda returned in your embrace, allowing herself to relax for the first time in nearly a year, she sniffled against your shoulder, holding back tears as she realised how much she’d truly missed you.

Billy and Tommy watched in confusion as their mother cried into your shoulder. They didn’t know who you were, all their mother had told them was that they were going somewhere safe.

It was the yell of one of the boys that caused you and Wanda to separate, “Uncle P!” With that you felt a familiar rush of air across your leg but instead of Peter appearing one of the kids was gone.

You shared a perplexed look with Wanda, although your confusion was for different reasons.

“Hey hell raisers!” Peter responded, catching the mini speedster who all but threw himself at him barely regaining his balance before the other child had flung himself into the hug.

“Wanda? Those two… are they...?” You started, at a loss for words Wanda cut you off quietly, her tone as disbelieving as yours.

“My children? Yes. Is that…?” You nodded your head numbly, anticipating the end of her question.

“Your fake brother? Yeah.” Quickly, you realised you and a wanted woman catching up with the door wide open wasn’t ideal and you ushered Wanda inside, shutting the door when she walked in.

“Hey.” Peter greeted her simply, as if he hadn’t been used as a meat puppet in her altered reality. It wasn’t in his nature to hold any grudges.

“Hi?” Wanda replied, her voice still twinged with confusion.

“Peter, will you keep an eye on the kids for a bit? Wanda and I have some catching up to do.” You asked him with a nervous laugh, just thankful that Wanda was too tired to argue with your suggestion.

Peter ruffled the boys’ hair and gave you a grin, “Only if you stop trying to kill me.”

You rolled your eyes as you began to lead Wanda into your bedroom, “You’re on probation, jerk.” You called over your shoulder.

Once you were securely in your bedroom, the door locked and sitting comfortably you fixed Wanda with an amused look, “I’d ask you what’s new but I’m not sure I even wanna know.”

Wanda gave you a sad smile while she shook her head, “No, you probably don’t. I will tell you tomorrow, I don’t want to get into it tonight. I’m so tired.” She admitted, her voice overcome with sadness.

“I’ll pump up the air mattress and you and the boys can sleep in here for however long you need. I’d offer you the spare room but that’s where Peter’s been staying and I don’t think empty food containers are the kind of decor you’d be into.” Wanda nodded, squeezing your hand gratefully.

“So his name is Peter?” She asked, curious about the man Agatha had used to trick her in WestView.

You nodded in confirmation, “Yeah. Peter Maximoff, actually.”

Wanda’s brows came to a furrow at that, “Maximoff? So he’s a relation?”

“Yes and no. Peter is from a different reality but he’s still a Maximoff and he’s got super speed. So, and this is just my theory, while you’re not directly related he could still be your brother- if you wanted him to.” You explained, as gently as you could, not trying to push her too far but to nudge the idea in her direction.

Wanda, to your surprise, didn't seem to hate the suggestion, “What is he like?”

A genuine smile made it onto your face then, as you shot into your description of your roommate, “He’s caring, funny, a little bit of a kleptomaniac but he’s working on it. He’s understanding and moronically selfless, moronic in the sense that he doesn’t even realise he’s being selfless. Huge pain in the ass too.” Wanda had a soft smile on her face by the time you’d finished.

“You like him.” Was all she said and you let out a laugh in disbelief, standing up and opening the door.

“Go grab a shower. I’ll have Peter blow up the air mattress while I go introduce myself to my god sons.”

“I thought you’d at least wait until I actually asked you.” Wanda laughed as you walked out of the room.

Things moved fairly quickly after that. As promised you introduced yourself to Billy and Tommy as their god mother, which they seemed more than thrilled about and you assumed that excitement had to do with whatever description of you Peter had given them. Wanda and the twins were all cleaned and fed and had all but collapsed into bed, foregoing the air mattress and huddling together in your double bed instead.

“Where are you sleeping, mother Teresa?” Peter teased as he noticed your eyes drooping where you stood.

“On the couch probably. Or the air mattress.” You mumbled, cutting yourself off with a yawn.

Peter, unimpressed with your options, scoffed, “No way. Come on, you can bunk with me.”

Much like Wanda, you were too tired to argue and you let Peter pull you to his, surprisingly clean, room by the hand.

You both crawled into the bed, lying close together despite the amount of empty space on the mattress.

“How are you feeling about all of this?” Your soft voice broke through the silence and Peter turned his head to look at you.

“About Wanda?” You nodded your head, watching him intently as he rolled onto his side, facing you more comfortably.

Peter shrugged lightly, “I’m feeling ok. Just glad the twins still see me as their cool uncle.” You let out a small laugh at his response.

“Wanda was asking about you. Seemed interested in getting to know the real you.” You informed him, your heartwarming as you watched a hopeful look fall across his face.

A lull settled over the room once again and Peter caught himself staring at you. His eyes drifted over every visible part of you, reminding him of most of the points on his pros list for staying in your universe; your eyes, your lashes, your nose, your lips, you.

“What’re you thinking about?” The sound of your tired voice pulled him out of his thoughts and ultimately pushed him to bite the bullet and tell you how he’s feeling. With you curled up beside him, in his bed, fighting sleep just to stay in his company for as long as you could; he knew there would be no better time.

“Just about how happy I am to be here with you.” He answered you honestly, the butterflies in both of your stomachs fluttering in sync at his words.

You trailed a hand under the duvet and onto the bedsheets between your bodies, feeling around until you found his hand and gently intertwined your fingers. “I’m happy you decided to stay.”

“What you’ve all gone through in this timeline sucks- don’t get me wrong-“ Peter started sincerely, scooting closer to you and dropping his head back down on the edge of your pillow, leaving the pair of you practically nose to nose as he went on.

“And I hate that Wanda had to go through so much… but I’m really glad that it led me to you.” Peter swore in that moment, right after the confession left his mouth, that he could die right now and be completely content knowing that you now knew how he felt.

His heart stopped, and he thought that maybe he was about to die, when you gave him the softest, sweetest smile he’d ever been on the receiving end of and whispered, “I feel the same.”

Time moved in slow motion as he felt you moving your intertwined hands towards your lips, your lips pressed gently against the back of Peter’s hand before you brought them to rest against your chest.

It was a fact to say that Peter Maximoff had never felt intimacy quite like this before. But, experiencing it now, with you, led him to wonder how he’d ever survived without it. He wasn’t sure whether it was natural to crave more, especially when the affection you were showing him was so gentle, but he didn’t care as he let the impulsive side of him take over.

Not sparing another word, Peter closed the small distance between your lips and his. His free hand cupped your jaw while yours wasted no time in getting tangled in his silver hair.

His lips moved softly and surprisingly slowly over yours and he savoured the feeling of your hand holding his while your other got lost in his hair, your body pressed up against him, the way your jaw moved against his palm as you reciprocated the movement of his lips and the taste of your lips, promising himself he’d never let the memory slip from his mind for as long as he lived.

With complete clarity, Peter could say he had felt true, genuine happiness and he had no doubt in his mind that there was absolutely nothing Charles, Hank, Scott or anyone else from his original timeline could say to make him leave this happiness behind. Because in the process of forgetting his old life, he couldn’t deny that he has undoubtedly found himself in the position of a man who had so much more to live for.

[rapsgoddess]

Washing Machine Heart Part 1. (Erik Killmonger x OC)

This is unedited so please have mercy on me in the notes 😭

Nahla knew she didn’t mean a thing to him. Next to being a mercenary, Erik was a player. He came and went as he pleased, spent his nights with more than one woman, and didn’t feel a single shred of regret whenever his girls would pour out their hearts to him. 

Nahla knew she didn’t mean a single thing to him, yet she still somehow fell in love. 

It was a painful realization. One that she came to during one of Erik’s many long term absences. It was another sleepless night for her and she was sitting in bed with her laptop open to her right and her keyboard directly in front of her. For the past week, the same melody had been on loop inside her head. A broken tune that conveyed so much sorrow that it nearly brought her to tears whenever she hummed it. Each day after she got home from work, she would add onto the melody bit by bit, putting in different instruments and sounds to create a beautiful symphony. 

When it came time to write lyrics for the song, all she could envision was a tune about unrequited love. The same unrequited love that she had been feeling for a while. 

It wasn’t until she put a name to that feeling when she finally realized how she truly felt about Erik. 

She decided to try and keep things suppressed for a while, hoping that her childish feelings of romance would disappear after a few days. 

They didn’t. 

When Erik returned a few weeks later, she didn’t, know how to act. The man made it known that he was not committed to anybody, and Nahla was no exception. On the rare occasion Nahla would catch a glimpse of him on social media, she would see him surrounded by women who looked as if they could be models. Women who were leagues ahead of her. The photos never failed to resurrect her insecurities. They made her question why Erik even bothered to give her the time of day. Yet those insecurities melted away whenever he came to visit her. 

Flash forward to the present, and Nahla found herself laying next to Erik’s naked frame in her bed. The faint sound of her washing machine echoed throughout the house, giving a sort of rhythmic banging as her shoes tussled around inside. The night was still fairly young, having only been a few minutes past seven, but all of the plans that Nahla had for that evening were discarded the moment Erik showed up on her doorstep. 

It didn’t take much for his words to lull her into bed and for his lips on hers to enrapture her. His low, smooth voice was like music to her ears, and her moans being music to his. Each praise that left his lips was like a toxic lullaby. Nahla knew that he had repeated the same words to dozens of women in the past, yet in the moment, they made her feel as if she were the only woman in the world. 

“You feel so good around me baby…”

“You don’t know how much I missed this pussy.”

“Say my name so everybody know who’s fuckin’ you right.” 

Thinking back to his words sent shivers down her spine. She was wide awake, restless and too excited to fall asleep. It was rare for Erik to stay after having sex, let alone fall asleep before her, but her inner turmoil prevented her from falling asleep. 

She turned back to look over at Erik, taking in every aspect of his being as if it were the last time she would see him again. No matter how many times she laid eyes on him, she would never be able to find the words to describe how beautiful he was. He had a smile that could light up a room and warm eyes that made her heart flutter each time she looked into them. It often left her wondering why exactly he even entertained the thought of her when he was way out of her league. 

A heavy sigh left Nahla’s lips and she threw the covers off the lower half of her body. She looked back at Erik one last time while putting on her robe, making sure that he stayed asleep. Slowly and quietly, she crept out of the room and down the hall to her makeshift studio, closing the door behind her and turning on the lights. She used her studio as an escape from both the real world and her own mind, and right then she needed an escape from both. Turning on her equipment and opening up her laptop, she opened up the file that held her latest project. The one that helped her come to her realization in the first place. She made sure the speakers were low as to not wake Erik up and pressed play, listening to her voice blend with the gentle melody. 

She had only written a few lines so far and could feel the next verse just on the tip of her tongue, but lyricism had never really been her strong suit. Muttering random words under her breath, she opened up the notes section on GarageBand and began writing down whatever sounded nice, replacing and adding words where she deemed fit. 

“Might as well give it a go,” she sighed, getting up from her chair and walking over to the small corner where her mic and the rest of her recording equipment was set up. She pressed record on an empty track and began singing the second verse, her voice coming out soft and almost broken in contrast to her usual strong, belty tone. She was tired, both physically and emotionally, but she couldn’t walk back to that room. Not with him still laying asleep in her bed as if the two of them were a couple. 

After a few more takes, she had finally gotten her voice warmed up enough to where it didn’t sound completely like shit and she walked over to her work station to edit the track on top the music. 

With her mind now completely engulfed in her music, she didn’t noticed the sound of her toilet flushing or her bathroom sink running down the hall. She didn’t notice the sound of footsteps leading to her studio and her door opening slightly. 

It wasn’t until the feeling of a hand snaking its way around her neck drew her from her work as she jumped in her seat while clutching her chest in panic.

“Whatchu scared for? It’s just me,” Erik muttered, his voice still laced with drowsiness. “What are you doing up? Any other day you’d be knocked out.” His fingers gently squeezed at her neck and he leaned down to plant a kiss on the top of her head. It was weirdly intimate of him.

“I couldn’t sleep so I decided to work on something.” Nahla spun her seat around to face him. He had on a pair of low hanging shorts. She recognized them as being one of the pairs she bought for him whenever he decided to stay over. She mentally scoffed at the thought; buying clothes for a man who she wasn’t even in a relationship with. 

“You’re not leaving?” She asked. It had just dawned on her that, miraculously, Erik was still there. 

“Nah. I haven’t seen you in a while so I figured I’d stay for a little bit.” 

The sentiment made her heart flutter but she quickly grounded herself back to reality. She couldn’t afford to get her hopes up. 

“So, what are you working on?” He asked, his arms folded across his chest as he looked past her and at the open editing software on her computer. 

“Oh. Well I had a melody that was stuck in my head for a while so I put it down and write lyrics. I lowkey wanna find a mini orchestra to record it though.” 

“Well can I hear it?” He suggested. 

Nahla’s eyes widened and her heart skipped a beat. Despite knowing each other for the better part of two years now, this was the most he had ever expressed genuine interest in her music. 

“U-Uhh, I’m not sure… I get really sensitive about my stuff. Plus it’s not what you’d expect it to be,” she said, swirling her chair back around to face her work station as she hesitantly placed her hand on the mouse  and moved the cursor over the “play” button. After taking a deep breath, she played the song and closed her eyes as she waited for it to be over. Throughout the entirety of what little she had to play, Erik was silent, giving no response, comment, or critiques. When it was over, she reluctantly turned around to face him. 

“So? What do you think?”

“Yeah, I can definitely hear an orchestra going behind that. Maybe start off with piano first, then bring in strings or some shit during the hook,” he suggested, walking over to the other chair in the corner of her studio and sitting down. 

“Okay. Thanks.”

For about an hour or two, the two of them stayed up in her studio talking about random things while sharing a blunt together. They eventually migrated back to the bedroom and made their way beneath the covers together, Nahla’s body molding perfectly into Erik’s as they cuddled. 

“Nah, I’m deadass. I thought I had locked his cage, but he always finds a way to get out,” Nahla giggled, referring to her pet chameleon who always managed to get out of his cage. “I remember a few day ago I had just woken up and went into the kitchen to get some juice and I see him inside the sink just sitting there. Then he have the nerve to look up at me like ‘what are you doing here?’ No sir, what are you doing here.” 

Erik laughed softly while shaking his head. “Nah, I don’t think I could handle an animal just freely roaming my shit like that.”

“You get used to it after a while. I was low-key thinking about getting a snake too, but I gotta figure out where to put the tank.”

“Oh hell nah. If you get a snake, I’m not coming by anymore.”

“What?! You used to be a whole Navy Seal and you’re scared of snakes, E?” She asked, a bit surprised that he even shared that information with her. 

“Girl, I don’t know how you can even stand them things,” he mumbled, “slithering around and shit. What if it gets out when you’re sleep and starts choking you?”

“Then we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it,” she giggled, earning an eye roll from Erik. 

Though it didn’t seem possible, she pressed herself against Erik even harder, somehow managing to get even closer to him. Resting her head in the crook of his neck, she had a perfect view of the many scars and keloids that littered his body. She could tell some of them are new. Whether or not they were accidental or self inflicted, she didn’t want to know. 

It was times like these where Nahla wished that her outlandish fantasies of romance weren’t fantasies at all. Having never been in a real relationship before, she constantly longed to be loved by someone in a romantic sense. Though she knew that Erik probably never thought of her as more than a fuck buddy, it was nice to feel his warmth underneath her. Even if it was an illusion, it was nice to imagine him as her lover while he was holding her close. 

“What’s on your mind?” He pried, letting out a deep sigh before closing his eyes and relaxing his muscles. 

“Where do you go when you disappear?” She partially lied. Even though that wasn’t what truly was on her mind, it was still a question that lingered over her head for a while. 

“That, I can’t tell you ma. At least not right now.” 

She wasn’t satisfied with how curt his reply was. Sitting up, she supported her head with her hand, her elbow buried into the pillow beside his head as she peered down at him. 

“You can tell me,” she pried. A childish grin spread across her face. “If it’s something illegal I promise I won’t tell.”

Erik peaked one up up at her, a smile of his own taking over his featured. He pushed his hands behind his head and stared up at the ceiling. “Mm… Maybe I could tell you a little bit. I don’t even know where to begin though without you thinkin’ I’m crazy.”

“I won’t think you’re crazy.”

“You say that now.” There was a pregnant pause, and then, in the most serious tone ever, he said, “I’m apart of African royalty.”

“So there’s this country in Africa called Wakanda. At first glance, it seems like a small lil third world country, but in reality, they’re the most advanced civilization on the planet. They got this metal called Vibranium that allows them to all sorts of things, but they keep it hidden from the rest of the world.”

“How? And if they kept it hidden from the world, then how do you know about it?”

“They have a dome that surrounds the entire country. It’s practically impenetrable. And the only reason I know is because my father was the prince. He was sent here on an undercover mission in America but quickly saw how shitty thing were here, so he wanted to change it. “

“Wait, your father is the prince of an African country?” Nahla couldn’t believe her ears. Despite being secretive and mysterious, she knew that Erik wasn’t one to lie. After all, what could he possibly gain from lying about something as far fetched as this?  

“Was. He was killed before he could enact any change; by his own brother no less.”

She could hear a pain and vulnerability in his voice that she’d never heard before. Now she definitely knew that he wasn’t lying. 

Erik’s face had turned to the side in a fruitless attempt to hide the tears that welled up in his eyes. He’d never brought up his family or much of his life before he met her in a conversation, and now she could see why. 

Hesitantly, Nahla reached up to wipe away the tears that left his eyes. “So you plan on going back and getting revenge?” She pondered. It would make sense why he’d want to stay under the radar,  having no social media accounts, no permanent phone number, and constantly disappearing for months at a time. If he wanted to infiltrate an entire hidden country, then he’d have to be the closest thing to a ghost a person could be. 

“It’s on the list,” he replied, sitting up in bed while resting back against the headboard. “But, my main goal is to change the world. Wakanda has technology and weapons that people can’t even begin fathom. If our people were able to get their hands on that kind of fire power, we wouldn’t have to worry about the White man oppressing us any longer.” 

The sadness that was once present in his eyes had long disappeared, instead being replaced with a burning passion. It filled her with joy to see him get passionate about something, but it also put her on edge. Nahla knew what his plan implied, and she didn’t put it past him to sacrifice countless lives in order to see his vision come to life.

Staying silent, she simply nodded, too afraid that she’d say the wrong thing if she opened her mouth. Tearing her gaze away from the man, she began contemplating on everything she had been thinking about prior to his arrival. Her feelings for him were still unwavering, but now she was starting to ponder on whether or not being with him was a wise decision. It didn’t take being a genius to know that Erik’s path was a set one. He was a determined, goal-driven man, and when his mind was made up, there was no convincing him to go back on his decision. 

If she followed him down that path, she wouldn’t be able to turn back. 

“Do I scare you?” 

Nahla looked back up only to be met with obsidian eyes boring straight into her deep brown ones. His question threw her for a loop, no doubt, considering how Erik was never one to be considerate of other people’s feelings. 

“H-Huh? What do you mean?” She knew exactly what he meant. 

“That look in your eyes… You’re scared of something. What is it?” He demanded in an eerily calm manner. 

Attempting to spare his feelings would be a futile decision; Erik read people like his favorite novel. Yet, for some reason, Nahla had no control over the words that left her mouth. 

She almost never did when she was around him. 

“Nothing. I just get a bit spooked in the dark,” she chuckled. 

Erik simply blinked at her, a look of uncertainty and doubt dancing around in his eye before he shrugged it off and laid back down in the bed, facing her completely. 

“You should get some rest. Goodnight,” he said softly, his eyes never leaving her. 

Upon hearing his words, Nahla felt an immense tiredness wash over her as if he casted a sleeping spell over her. She glanced over at the clock and noticed how it was nearly 4 AM. She had only three hours before she needed to get up and get ready for work. 

She was tired, but fear kept plaguing her mind. A fear that he wouldn’t be there when she woke up. Or, even worse, a fear that she had dreamt the entire night. 

“Don’t worry. I’ll be here when you wake up,” he whispered. 

Nahla wanted to believe him, so she did, closing her eyes and drifting off to sleep. 

[iztarshi]

Leroux's account of Erik's life in the epilogue is amazing and, really, I have to quote the whole thing for you.

According to the Persian's account, Erik was born in a small town not far from Rouen. He was the son of a master–mason. He ran away at an early age from his father's house, where his ugliness was a subject of horror and terror to his parents. For a time, he frequented the fairs, where a showman exhibited him as the "living corpse." He seems to have crossed the whole of Europe, from fair to fair, and to have completed his strange education as an artist and magician at the very fountain–head of art and magic, among the Gipsies. A period of Erik's life remained quite obscure. He was seen at the fair of Nijni–Novgorod, where he displayed himself in all his hideous glory. He already sang as nobody on this earth had ever sung before; he practised ventriloquism and gave displays of legerdemain so extraordinary that the caravans returning to Asia talked about it during the whole length of their journey. In this way, his reputation penetrated the walls of the palace at Mazenderan, where the little sultana, the favorite of the Shah–in–Shah, was boring herself to death. A dealer in furs, returning to Samarkand from Nijni–Novgorod, told of the marvels which he had seen performed in Erik's tent. The trader was summoned to the palace and the daroga of Mazenderan was told to question him. Next the daroga was instructed to go and find Erik. He brought him to Persia, where for some months Erik's will was law. He was guilty of not a few horrors, for he seemed not to know the difference between good and evil. He took part calmly in a number of political assassinations; and he turned his diabolical inventive powers against the Emir of Afghanistan, who was at war with the Persian empire. The Shah took a liking to him.

This was the time of the rosy hours of Mazenderan, of which the daroga's narrative has given us a glimpse. Erik had very original ideas on the subject of architecture and thought out a palace much as a conjuror contrives a trick–casket. The Shah ordered him to construct an edifice of this kind. Erik did so; and the building appears to have been so ingenious that His Majesty was able to move about in it unseen and to disappear without a possibility of the trick's being discovered. When the Shah–in–Shah found himself the possessor of this gem, he ordered Erik's yellow eyes to be put out. But he reflected that, even when blind, Erik would still be able to build so remarkable a house for another sovereign; and also that, as long as Erik was alive, some one would know the secret of the wonderful palace. Erik's death was decided upon, together with that of all the laborers who had worked under his orders. The execution of this abominable decree devolved upon the daroga of Mazenderan. Erik had shown him some slight services and procured him many a hearty laugh. He saved Erik by providing him with the means of escape, but nearly paid with his head for his generous indulgence.

Fortunately for the daroga, a corpse, half–eaten by the birds of prey, was found on the shore of the Caspian Sea, and was taken for Erik's body, because the daroga's friends had dressed the remains in clothing that belonged to Erik. The daroga was let off with the loss of the imperial favor, the confiscation of his property and an order of perpetual banishment. As a member of the Royal House, however, he continued to receive a monthly pension of a few hundred francs from the Persian treasury; and on this he came to live in Paris.

As for Erik, he went to Asia Minor and thence to Constantinople, where he entered the Sultan's employment. In explanation of the services which he was able to render a monarch haunted by perpetual terrors, I need only say that it was Erik who constructed all the famous trap–doors and secret chambers and mysterious strong–boxes which were found at Yildiz–Kiosk after the last Turkish revolution. He also invented those automata, dressed like the Sultan and resembling the Sultan in all respects, which made people believe that the Commander of the Faithful was awake at one place, when, in reality, he was asleep elsewhere.

Of course, he had to leave the Sultan's service for the same reasons that made him fly from Persia: he knew too much. Then, tired of his adventurous, formidable and monstrous life, he longed to be some one "like everybody else." And he became a contractor, like any ordinary contractor, building ordinary houses with ordinary bricks. He tendered for part of the foundations in the Opera. His estimate was accepted. When he found himself in the cellars of the enormous playhouse, his artistic, fantastic, wizard nature resumed the upper hand. Besides, was he not as ugly as ever? He dreamed of creating for his own use a dwelling unknown to the rest of the earth, where he could hide from men's eyes for all time.

Isn’t that amazing? I'm amazed.

[flowercrown-bard]

I Scream a Truth, You Hear a Lie - part 1/ 5

This is a gift for the most amazing @ban-aard <3

pairing: Geraskier

summary: When some bigoted man insists that Geralt can’t feel love, Jaskier blurts out that they are married - which they very much aren’t. So naturally, Geralt and Jaskier have to pretend to be husbands to convince people that Geralt is lovable, though no one doubts that more than Geralt himself.

word count:~3k

content warning: some self-deprication

read on AO3

next

Alright, so it hadn’t been Jaskier’s most brilliant idea. One might even go so far as to say it was one of his worst ones, but in his defence, he had been tired, a teeny tiny bit drunk and majorly pissed off.

All throughout the evening Jaskier had to listen to stupid comments about witchers. No matter how many tales of Geralt’s heroic deeds he sang, Erik, the man who had given Geralt the contract he was currently risking his life on, kept insulting witchers, the fucking hypocrite.

Throughout it all Jaskier was forced to clench his teeth and continue singing. The most he could do was through death glares at the man and hope he choked on his ale. It wouldn’t do to disrupt his performance, not when they still needed the money to rent a room once Geralt came back, even though it made Jaskier’s blood boil to know people still spread lies about his friend. He came far too close to just stopping his performance and call the contractor out on his lies in front of the entire tavern.

As luck would have it, he didn’t need to.

Just as Jaskier’s last song came to a close the doors opened and Geralt came in, heading straight to the bearded man whose eyes grew wide as he took in Geralt’s black eyes and blood-splattered skin.

He must have been too scared to protest or swindle Geralt into giving him less coin.

Jaskier watched on in smug satisfaction, though he couldn’t pretend not to feel a pang when Geralt didn’t even spare him a single glance before leaving the tavern. As the doors fell close behind him Jaskier hurried to follow him, but he stopped dead in his tracks when the hated voice chimed up once again, louder now that Geralt had left the room.

“Thank the gods we’re rid of him now. Gives me the creeps.”

Jaskier whirled around and fixed him with a raging snarl. “Maybe next time, he should just stay out of this town and not help you when your people are dying then?”

The man scoffed. “You know that’s not what I mean. I don’t mind his kind, but I don’t want them here for Marijan’s Day. No one does.”

“He just risked his life for you. If anything, you should be throwing a feast in his honour. The least you can do is not be arseholes and let him stay for your festival.”

“Listen, bard, this is a celebration of love. What does someone like him even want there? Everyone knows those mutants don’t –

“Finish that sentence, I dare you.” Jaskier’s eyes narrowed and he prayed Geralt was already far enough away to not hear any of what the man was saying.

“It’s true though isn’t it? Witchers don’t feel and no one would love them anyway so what would be the point?”

“Excuse me.” Jaskier’s voice became deadly cold. “Geralt is living proof that that’s a load of bullshit.”

Erik took a swig of his pint and fixed Jaskier with an almost pitying look. “Sorry to tell you, lad, but just because it’s painfully obvious that you adore the mutant like a loyal puppy doesn’t mean he feels anything for you.”

Jaskier could barely stop himself from flinching back. Those words hit too close. They were too true. How many nights has he lied awake wishing it were different? Maybe it would have been easier if it were true and witchers really didn’t feel. Then at least it wouldn’t have been Jaskier’s fault that Geralt couldn’t love him.

The thought hurt and it set his blood on fire and it made him lose all control over what his mouth was saying.

“Are you telling me my husband doesn’t love me? Is that what you’re saying?”

A wheezing sound left the man as he choked on his drink, but the small amount of satisfaction Jaskier got from it was short lived. “Your what?”

“My husband,” Jaskier said, firmer this time, consequences be damned. It’s not like sticking with what he had said would make this mess any worse. “And I will take him with me to your oh so wonderful festival and you can all see just how loving and brilliant and lovable he is!”

As soon as the words had left him, he regretted them. This could only end in disaster.

Convincing Geralt to accompany him to a celebration was hard enough, but with what Jaskier had just said? Geralt would rip his head right off when he found out. But like hell would Jaskier let these people continue slandering Geralt. He would do what he could to make them take back their poisonous words and if it tore his heart out in the process, so be it.

--

Geralt kept his head down as best he could as he entered the tavern. He had heard the whispers as he had approached and he felt his chest tighten as they all came to a suspicious halt once he entered the room. He didn’t need to smell the fear to know he wasn’t wanted here. Bitter guilt rose up in him. Only moments before, Jaskier had put on a performance and captivated the audience and now all eyes were on Geralt, no one caring about Jaskier the way they should.

He hurried to get his money and leave. It took all of his will power not to look at Jaskier. The thought of him waiting for Geralt’s return had gotten him through the fight and coming back to him was the best part of any contract.

And yet, despite all the times Jaskier had seen him dirty, with torn clothes and the toxins pumping through his blood, he couldn’t look him in the eyes now. Not in front of all these people. It was different when it was just the two of them in a room far away from prying eyes, but with everyone looking at Geralt … Jaskier wouldn’t want to be associated with the sight of him like this. It would expose any lies he told about Geralt’s valiant character.

So he left without chancing a glance at him, though he felt Jaskier’s eyes burning into his back.

Leaving the crowded tavern and the disgusted stares behind was freeing, though there was an insistent part of him that told him to go back. He didn’t, but he couldn’t stop himself from lingering just outside the door. Maybe, if he was lucky, he would get to hear Jaskier strike up a new song, would hear the excitement in his voice as the rush of a performance overtook him.

What he heard instead made his heart sink like a stone.

“Thank the gods we’re rid of him now. Gives me the creeps.”

Of course. What else could he have expected? Geralt was used to hearing such things, but it didn’t make them sting any less. For years he had been able to just lock those comments away and pretend they didn’t bother them, but ever since travelling with Jaskier this seemed impossible. Because one could only hear so many times that the man they travelled with was a monster before starting to believe it themselves. One day, Jaskier would begin to doubt. He would realise that if so many people agreed on what Geralt was, maybe he was in the wrong saying that Geralt was anything better.

With a bitter taste in his mouth and a painfully tight chest he listened to Jaskier defend him. It eased something inside him, dislodged a strangling heaviness in his lungs that made it hard to breathe.

Until –

“It’s true though isn’t it? Witchers don’t feel and no one would love them anyway so what would be the point?”

Geralt staggered backwards. He couldn’t think, he just left -fled – those words ringing in his ears. He couldn’t stay to listen what Jaskier would say, if there even was something he could say.

For while the first part couldn’t be more untrue – the pangs shooting through Geralt’s heart all the proof needed that witchers could feel – no one, not even Jaskier who stood up for witchers where he could, could argue with the second part. Not when merely a minute ago Geralt had stood before him, his black eyes and unnaturally pale skin an unmistakable reminder of what he was. Not even Jaskier who was so full of love to give every one – everyone but him - would ever be able to love him.

For a sick second Geralt was almost grateful for hearing those words that had been said with such condescension and conviction. He had needed to hear them, needed the reminder. Too close had he gotten to letting himself forget. Too close to letting himself hope that Jaskier could –

He shook the thought off before thinking it fully and entered the inn, storming off into their room and shutting the door much louder than he would have if Jaskier had been there.

The loud bang of the door snapping shut did nothing to disrupt the thoughts still swirling in his mind. Even now with distance and walls between him and the venomous words he couldn’t shake them off.

What would be the point?

He scoffed into the silence of his lonely room. Yes, what was the point of all of it? Of letting Jaskier travel with him, of relishing every laugh shared and every moment spend together as if he could keep Jaskier in his life, when he knew that he didn’t even have him – would never have him. Not in the selfish and impossible way that he wanted.

His mind still hadn’t quieted down when the door opened again and Jaskier peeked into the room. Geralt’s heart skipped a beat at how carefully quiet Jaskier was.

“The potion’s still making everything too loud?” he asked softly.

Geralt grunted in denial.

Jaskier let out a relieved sigh and went over to him, sitting down on the bed. Geralt’s chest grew tight when he saw how much space Jaskier had left between them, how he avoided Geralt’s eyes and how his hands never stayed still. Geralt wanted to reach out and lay a hand on Jaskier’s to calm his fidgeting. Instead he balled his hand into a fist at his side.

All he had hoped for was some peace and quiet. Some rest, with Jaskier talking about his day while Geralt let his voice lull him off into sleep.

Now though it seemed he would get none of it. Jaskier was obviously nervous and uncomfortable with Geralt around. The words of hate and bigotry had finally seeped into Jaskier’s mind now that he hadn’t been able to find any plausible reply to the claim that witchers were unlovable.

“So,” Jaskier said after a long stretch of uncomfortable silence. “there’s a festival in a couple of days.”

Geralt grunted. Of course he knew about that. As if the bustling preparations hadn’t been enough to tip him off, Jaskier’s unceasing rambling about the festival and its renown that had people travel from neighbouring countries just to see the festivities made sure that Geralt knew about it. The knowledge that the festival was threatened by the presence of the monsters Geralt had been told to get rid of had only made him more determined to finish the contrast as fast as possible. There was nothing as motivating as the excited way Jaskier was grinning when he spoke of something he was looking forward to and Geralt hadn’t been able to risk the festival falling through.

“And – as I’m sure you can imagine – I would very much like to go.”

“Then go,” Geralt said, though his heart clenched painfully. “I won’t bother you, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“I- what? Of course you won’t bother me. You never do. I was just… you see the thing is…” Jaskier’s voice trailed off uncertainly and his eyes flickered over to Geralt for a brief moment. It was enough to see the hints of anxiety in them.

He had never been afraid of him. Not until now apparently.

“You don’t have to explain. It’s all quite clear,” Geralt said and turned his face into the impassive mask that he had hoped he wouldn’t need around Jaskier anymore. “You want to have a good time at the festival and me being there would make that impossible.” When Jaskier opened his mouth to protest, Geralt added, “I heard what that man said. I’m not wanted there. Or in this town at all. So I’ll leave.” I won’t ruin this for you, he didn’t say.

Jaskier’s brows pinched together and he turned to face Geralt completely, suddenly sickly pale. “Geralt….how much exactly did you hear?”

Geralt shrugged, though his throat had gotten tight. Don’t make me say it. Don’t make me say out loud that you can’t love me.

When he didn’t receive a satisfactory reply, Jaskier huffed. “Because I think you missed a crucial part of that conversation. Yes, I want to go to the festival – one might even say I need to – but I can’t go alone.”

Geralt huffed. “Because it’s a ‘celebration of love’? I didn’t think finding a partner would be a problem for you.” The words came out more bitter than he had intended and he risked a look at Jaskier, praying that he hadn’t noticed.

Jaskier rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. “Very funny. If you need to know, there were in fact at least three lovely people in that tavern who I’m sure would love my company for the feast.”

“Go ask them then.” Geralt forced the words out from between his teeth. There went all hope of having a restful sleep that night. How could he sleep when he knew that other people needed to do no more than look at Jaskier to gain his heart?

“I’m afraid I need you specifically to come with me.”

No matter how much his heart ached or how much Geralt fought against it, he couldn’t keep the smirk from tugging at his lips. “Have you somehow managed to piss off someone already? Jaskier, we’ve been here for two days.” The smirk grew wider when offended noises left Jaskier’s lips. “And I told you I’m done playing your bodyguard. That was a one-time thing.”

Jaskier perked up. “Well, then it’s a good thing it’s not me we’d be protecting.”

Something sharp and ugly reared its head inside Geralt. “No,” he said, voice hard. “I am not going to protect one of your dalliances. Who you decide to bed is your business, as is what happens to them.”

Don’t ask this of me. Don’t make me watch you flirt and kiss and be happy with someone else, even if only for this one day.

And yet, even as Geralt said it, he knew he would do it if Jaskier asked again, if he shifted closer and his eyes took on that pleading look that Geralt wasn’t strong enough to withstand. If Jaskier looked like he really needed this of him, he would give it to him like the fool that he was, even as it would tear into his heart like the claws of a beast.

Jaskier let out a frustrated sigh and shut his eyes tightly.

“I need you to be my husband.” The words were rushed and quiet, as if speaking them like this would make Geralt miss them.

Geralt’s thoughts came to a screeching halt and his mouth went dry. He couldn’t have heard correctly. All of those stupid wishes and hopeless dreams must have made him mishear.

“Jaskier?” He couldn’t say more than that. Anything but that one name might show the whirlwind of emotions inside him. He feared the name alone could have been too much already.

“Not really, of course,” Jaskier added hastily and rubbed his fingers together. “I… please don’t be mad at me, Geralt.”

Geralt’s brows knitted together and his heart sank. “What did you do?”

“I – I might have said that we were married.”

“Us married?” Geralt let out a sharp laugh that held no mirth. “Us married. I thought you were a master of words, how can you come up with such an obvious lie?”

The words stung as he spoke them and the dagger they plunged into his chest twisted when Jaskier winced. How else could Jaskier react, having thrown his stupid lie back in his face, probably only just now realising how horrible being married to Geralt truly would be.

“You said you wouldn’t be mad.” Jaskier’s voice was barely above a whisper.

Geralt raked a hand through his hair, frustration eating at him. “I never said that. But I’m not. I just don’t understand why you would do such a thing.”

Jaskier’s eyes blazed. “Because they were being arseholes!” His voice got louder with each word. “No matter what I did, no matter how often I told them about how good you are, they just kept saying things and I – I’m sorry, but I panicked and the words just slipped out.”

Just slipped out. As if the sole idea of them being anything more than friends wasn’t enough to drive Geralt mad. But saying it out loud, letting the words just slip out, as if it wasn’t something earthshattering…

“That won’t change anything,” Geralt said as evenly as he could. “Just because you said that doesn’t mean you’ll have to take me to the festival. I’m sure you’ll come up with some excuse as to why your husband isn’t with you and you can still have your fun.”

“That’s not what –“ Jaskier bit his lip and a hint of red tinted his cheeks. “It’s not about me having fun. It’s about proving to them that you are not what they say you are.”

Geralt was almost tempted to ask him what exactly that was, to hear Jaskier say the words that dug into Geralt’s chest out loud, but Jaskier looked so crestfallen, as if the thought of what people said physically pained him.

And why wouldn’t it? The wonderful idiot had made it his life’s work to improve Geralt’s reputation, and out of all the things that could be said about Jaskier, he was stubborn beyond compare – likely the main reason why he was still suffering Geralt’s company after all these years. Of course Jaskier wouldn’t like hearing people slander the thing he had dedicated his life to. Though those insults and scoffs were aimed at Geralt, they too hit Jaskier, told him he wasn’t good enough at what he was doing.

Geralt sighed. “Jaskier, you don’t need to do something that would make you uncomfortable just to proof something to them. They – it’s not worth it.”

“It is.” Jaskier’s eyes were determined. “Geralt please. Just for the festival. Please pretend you’re in love with me.”

Geralt’s breath hitched. There were reasons why this was a horrible idea. There were consequences that would surely come off this.

But the thought of being allowed to show even just a fraction of what he felt for Jaskier, even if just for one day, overshadowed all rational thought. It would hurt, it would break him, but just for that one day it would be worth it if it meant knowing what it would be like to feel that look that Jaskier gifted everyone else on him.

Afraid of the emotion that he wouldn’t be able to hide if he opened his mouth, Geralt only nodded.

Jaskier beamed at him and Geralt’s stomach clenched uncomfortably. He was not going to make it thought this with his heart in one piece.

But he could do it even if it was torture. It was just one day.

[nikkoliferous]

Phase One: Avengers (Part One)

With everything being about the LOKI series right now and me dreading it, I figured I'd distract myself by finally posting my thoughts on the Phase One: Avengers novel, which I seem to recall somehow being way worse than the Thor novel? I'm not completely convinced this thing wasn't ghostwritten by Taika Waititi; that's all I'm saying. Anyways, here we go.

(Quick note: please be aware that this overview is significantly Thor-critical. If that sort of thing bothers you, I do not recommend proceeding. You've been warned. Lol)

Let's start off with a friendly reminder that SHIELD had four hours to evacuate before Loki showed up, shall we?

Dr. Selvig read an energy surge from the Tesseract four hours ago,” Coulson was saying.

“I didn’t approve going to testing,” Fury said.

Coulson nodded. “He wasn’t testing it. He wasn’t even in the room. Spontaneous event.”

So either they're grossly incompetent or grossly negligent, but either way those deaths are on them at least as much as they're on Loki. If not more so.

“It just turned itself on?” Hill sounded skeptical. Fury, as usual, was less interested in how they’d gotten there than in what they were going to do next.

[...]

Selvig acknowledged him briefly and then returned his attention to the monitoring equipment. “Director, the Tesseract is misbehaving.”

“Is that supposed to be funny?”

“No, it’s not funny at all. The Tesseract is not only active, she’s… behaving.”

Fury didn’t comment on the doctor characterizing the Tesseract as female. He also wasn’t interested in Selvig’s notions about its personality. It didn’t have a personality. It was a cube containing energy, and all Nick Fury wanted was to know how to control that energy. “I assume you pulled the plug.”

Fury having no intellectual curiosity explains a lot, tbh. Like how he thinks Loki "kills because it's fun", even though nothing about their prior interaction indicates that. Like, at all. Loki killed only the agents who were attacking him. Because he felt threatened. If he indeed killed for the fun of it, he would have taken them all out and been done with it. Doing so would have both entertained him and made for a much smoother getaway.

“She’s an energy source. We turn off the power, she turns it back on. If she reaches peak level—”

“We prepared for this, Doctor. Harnessing energy from space.”

“We’re not ready. My calculations are far from complete. And she’s throwing off interference radiation.”

Fury watched the Tesseract in its circular containment shell. Eight separate energy sensors built into a frame supporting that shell were designed to measure and conduct that energy. Those sensors in turn rested on stainless-steel support scaffolding. The whole setup sprouted cables and conduits. These were there to supply energy to the Tesseract in a controlled fashion so Dr. Selvig could analyze its reactions. Now they were all shut down, as Dr. Selvig had said, but even so, the Tesseract glowed with a fierce blue energy. It was starting to spill onto the sensors, arcing like electricity. But it wasn’t electricity. It was something much more exotic.

I also find it curious/amusing/something that Fury later accuses Loki of "stealing a force [he] can't hope to control". YOU'RE DESCRIBING YOURSELF, NICK. YOU'RE THE ONE WHO CAN'T CONTROL IT AND HAS BEEN ARROGANTLY PRETENDING YOU CAN.

The man looked up at them and smiled as he stood. He was not a large man, not remarkable in any particular way. He had long black hair and wore black leather clothing, similar to what Fury was wearing. However, he wasn’t a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent. Fury didn’t know where he had come from.

I beg to fucking differ lmao

Fury had the Tesseract in a steel carrying case and was taking a step toward the door when the stranger turned to him and said, “Please don’t. I still need that.”

Kudos to Loki for not forgetting his princely manners even while completely off his rocker. Lol

“This doesn’t have to get any messier,” Fury said. He glanced quickly around, trying to figure the fastest way out.

“Of course it does,” the stranger said. “I’ve come too far for anything else.”

TELL US WHAT YOU'VE BEEN THROUGH, LOKI. INQUIRING MINDS WANT TO KNOW.

“Loki?” Dr. Selvig said. He stood up from helping one of his fellow doctors, who was barely conscious. “Brother of Thor?”

“We have no quarrel with your people,” Fury said.

Loki acknowledged Selvig and then returned his attention to Fury.

By "acknowledged", the author means he rolled his eyes so hard he saw his own brain lmao

“I come with glad tidings,” Loki said. “Of a world made free.”

“Free from what?” Fury asked.

Turning back to him, Loki said simply, “Freedom. Freedom is life’s great lie. Once you accept that in your heart…” As he spoke the word “heart,” he turned and touched Selvig’s chest with the tip of his scepter, just as he had with Hawkeye. Selvig gasped, and the same change came over his face that Fury had seen in Hawkeye’s. “You will know peace.”

He's not simply deranged, you know. For Loki, this is actually true. He has never been free in his entire life, and won't be at any point after this either. Yes, there was also the torture and the mind control at play, but even underneath all that, is it any wonder he was vulnerable to the Thanos cult's brainwashing?

Hawkeye had been looking around the complex. Now he stepped up to Loki. “Sir, Director Fury is stalling. This place is about to blow and drop a hundred feet of rock on us. He means to bury us.”

Loki looked back at Fury, who said, “Like the pharaohs of old.”

“He’s right, the portal is collapsing in on itself!” Selvig called out from the monitors. “We’ve got maybe two minutes before this goes critical.”

Friendly reminder, once again, that Loki wasn't even aware the PEGASUS facility was on the verge of collapsing—let alone the cause of it.

“Well then,” Loki said. He glanced over at Hawkeye.

Without a word, Hawkeye drew his gun and shot Nick Fury once, dead center in the chest.

Two things:

1) Every time I see this scene in gifs, all I can think of is, "Pull the lever, Kronk." 🤣

2) So how does the direct mind control of the sceptre work anyway? Because Loki never actually gives Barton a command here. So does he sometimes communicate with his minions telepathically (sort of like The Other does with him), or does Barton just intuit his intent here, or what?

Maria Hill saw Hawkeye come out of the lab into the garage with Selvig, a liaison officer, and a stranger carrying a spear. He looked more like one of the people they’d been recruiting into the Avengers Initiative than an ordinary technician or S.H.I.E.L.D. agent. “Who's that?” she asked.

*sigh* In a just MCU, this would have been foreshadowing.

She jumped into a jeep and headed after them. Other S.H.I.E.L.D. vehicles followed, filled with agents. They roared along the underground access road that led up to the surface in the New Mexico desert. She was gaining on them and firing as she drove. Sooner or later, she’d be close enough to have a good shot at the stranger.

He had other ideas, though. When he saw the pursuing convoy get too close, he pointed his scepter at them. The tip of it flared bright blue, and a bolt of energy lashed out from it, striking the vehicle in front of Hill and shattering the right side of its passenger compartment. The vehicle slewed around and flipped, rolling and landing sideways across the road. They were blocked.

Interesting of Loki to go for the passenger compartment instead of the driver. Was anyone even sitting there? Just one more example in a long string of Loki being inexplicably merciful to his enemies, I guess. 🤷

They got around ahead of the truck, and Fury leaned out of the helicopter’s side door. He fired, emptying his clip. He could tell from the sparks that some of the bullets had hit, but he was too far away to see if they’d done any damage.

His real target was Loki, but he was protected by the cab of the truck. Fury couldn’t get a good shot at him.

Did Fury already forget that Loki is bulletproof, or...? I mean, I guess that's fair. Earlier, Hawkeye goes to draw his sidearm only minutes after the narration points out that the bullets already fired at Loki had bounced away harmlessly.

Leaning over the truck’s roof and keeping low, however, Loki could get a good shot at the helicopter. A blue bolt lanced out and struck the helicopter’s rotor assembly. All the control mechanisms went haywire, and the helicopter spiraled down out of the sky. The truck drove underneath them as they were about to crash, close enough that Fury could see the gloating expression on Loki’s face.

Haha, good for him.

“Coulson, you know that Stark trusts me about as far as he can throw me,” she said.

“Oh, I’ve got Stark,” Coulson said. “You’ve got the big guy.”

Oh, Natasha thought. That big guy. She said something in Russian. It wasn’t polite.

This has nothing to do with Loki. It just made me laugh.

Nick Fury had called an emergency meeting of the World Security Council. They needed to know what had happened with the Tesseract, and they needed to know what he planned to do about it. He brought up holographic images of all the WSC members, with their faces and locations hidden. He did not know who they were, but S.H.I.E.L.D. reported to them.

Well, that doesn't sound problematic at all, does it?

“The Avengers Initiative was shut down.”

“This isn’t about the Avengers.” That wasn’t strictly true, but Nick Fury was no idiot. He wasn’t going to show all his cards to the World Security Council when he didn’t even know who they were.

I'm glad he at least recognizes the stupidity of working for people he doesn't know, but uh... debatable, otherwise. Lol

“This isn’t about personality profiles anymore,” Coulson said. He wasn’t giving up, and that irritated Tony even more than the fact he’d showed up right when the celebration of Stark Tower was supposed to be starting.

*cough*DIVA*cough*

Loki watched Dr. Erik Selvig work, preparing the Tesseract for the next phase of his plan. Technicians and soldiers scurried about on various errands. Loki did not know the details and did not care. They were beneath him. He had his eye solely on the greater prize. It was time to consult with the Chitauri and begin the next phase of the preparations.

Really? You expect me to believe that Loki, the master tactician with "a cunning mind far exceeding Thor and Odin’s", couldn't be bothered to know the details of his own plan? Um, how about no?

Deep space and a field of stars surrounded this rocky world. Pale blue lights glowed where the Chitauri had built their fortress. They gleamed in a set of stairs that climbed to the topmost tower. That was where Loki had made his bargain with the Chitauri: They would be his army and he would open a path to Earth for them. Once Earth was his, and Asgard as well, he would turn the Tesseract over to them.

At least that was what he had promised.

1) Who said anything about Asgard...?

2) Indicator that Loki never planned on actually turning over the Tesseract? I don't know why you'd include this line otherwise.

“Let them gird themselves,” he said. “I will lead them in glorious battle.”

“Battle?” the Chitauri warrior snorted. “Against the meager might of Earth?”

“Glorious,” Loki repeated. “Not lengthy. If your force is as formidable as you claim.”

He had intended to anger the Chitauri, and he had succeeded.

Personally, I saw this less as intending to anger and more as "Loki has no self-preservation instinct and literally cannot help himself". What's to be gained by intentionally pissing off The Other here?

“You don’t have the Tesseract yet.” The Chitauri leader rushed at Loki and stopped just short of him, claws raised. Loki did not move.

“I don’t threaten,” he said, though he was doing exactly that.

LOL

The Chitauri leader backed down but only a step. “You will have your war, Asgardian,” he growled. Then he too decided to make a threat. “If you fail, if the Tesseract is kept from us, there will be no realm, no barren moon, no crevice where he cannot find you. You think you know pain? He will make you long for something as sweet as pain.”

Loki flashed back into his awareness of Earth. He took a deep breath. The Chitauri did not frighten him… but he would have been a fool if he had not possessed a healthy respect for their leader, the mad Titan known as Thanos. For it was Thanos who had given Loki the scepter, and Thanos who had rallied the Chitauri to Loki’s cause… and Thanos who wished to possess the Tesseract for his own monstrous ends. One did not bargain lightly with Thanos—and one certainly did not fail to meet the terms of such a bargain.

Love how this book just repeatedly glosses over the obvious fact that Loki was tortured. In the first chapter, it makes zero mention of his stumbling or other signs of being weakened. Here, it completely omits the pain WE ALL SAW The Other inflict on him. Fuck this narrator, seriously.

Steve had a moment to look around. The commanding officer appeared to be a woman with short dark hair reeling off orders from near the center of the bridge. “S.H.I.E.L.D. Emergency Protocol 193.6 in effect,” she was saying after a series of status orders and acknowledgments. Steve didn’t know what protocol that was. At the moment, all he knew was that he was on a flying aircraft carrier… and wasn’t that enough? Amazing.

[....]

The Helicarrier disappeared from view. From the inside, it didn’t look any different, but Steve saw monitors from satellite feeds, and on those, the Helicarrier had simply become invisible. He corrected himself: He wasn’t just on a flying aircraft carrier. He was on an invisible flying aircraft carrier. The future was pretty… cool, was the word everyone used now.

I'm not the biggest Steve fan, but I will admit to finding his childlike awe over the Helicarrier slightly adorable. Lol

Side note: is someone on this thing coordinating with Air Traffic Control? I... really hope so.

“What did it show you, Agent Barton?”

Barton turned to look at Loki. “My next target,” he said.

Loki nodded. “Tell me what you need.”

Barton took one his bows out of a case and snapped it into shape with a flick of his arm. “I need a distraction,” he said. “And a biometric ID.”

Why the change from "eyeball", I wonder? Seems random. Lol

Inside, Loki had been mingling with the crowd, taking on the appearance of an ordinary man with a walking stick. But as the president of the museum, one Doktor Heinrich Schäfer, began his welcoming speech, Loki decided it was time to make a dramatic entrance. He tapped the walking stick on the floor and it became his scepter. Immediately, to get the crowd’s attention, he aimed it at the nearest museum security guard and fired.

This... didn't happen?? At all??

Loki strode the rest of the way down the stairs and manhandled Schäfer over to a stone altar that was one of the museum’s prized ancient Norse relics. He slammed Schäfer onto his back, forcing a machine over his face. Schäfer cried out in pain and surprise as the machine shone blinding light into his face, holding his eyes open.

On the one hand, confirmation that Loki did not actually shred this dude's eye and he's probably fine. On the other hand, the author completely made up what just happened literally two sentences ago, so their credibility is a little suspect at the moment. Lol

A police car, alerted by the commotion, raced toward him. He blasted it with his scepter, and it spun out of control and crashed.

ACAB!

The crowd froze. Slowly the crowd knelt, and Loki reveled in their submission. “There,” he said. “Is this not simpler? Is this not your natural state? It’s the unspoken truth of humanity, that you crave subjugation. The bright lure of freedom diminishes your life’s joy in a mad scramble for power, for identity. You were made to be ruled. In the end, you will always kneel.”

He's talking about himself here. We all get that, right?

An old man in the middle of the crowd stood. Loki paused in his speech to regard this individual. Around him, all the copies of himself also looked at this old man.

“Not to men like you,” the old man said.

“There are no men like me,” Loki said.

No lies detected.

But Loki was tougher than he looked. He struck back with the scepter, forcing Captain America to parry until Loki found an opening and slammed the butt of the scepter into Captain America’s midsection, knocking him down. Captain America threw the shield again, but this time Loki was ready. He knocked it aside. It fell ringing to the stones of the plaza, and Loki had the tip of the scepter against the back of Captain America’s neck before the soldier could get back to his feet.

Correction: If he'd actually been trying to win, he would have used the tip. (Narrator: he was not trying to win).

A sudden storm rose around the Quinjet. Natasha looked at the instrument panel. There’d been no warning of heavy weather. “Where’s this coming from?” she wondered out loud.

At first, she thought that Loki was responsible. But that didn’t appear to be the case. He looked more nervous than anyone else on the jet.

Loki has Thor-induced PTSD. Understandable, tbh.

Thor let Loki fall well before they got to the ground.

Because Thor is an asshole.

So hey, as long as we're here, let's review how each member of Loki's family responds to the realisation that he's survived his suicide attempt.

Thor- manhandles him, angrily demands to know where the Tesseract is

Odin- refuses to even use his name, implies he should have either slaughtered him as an infant or left him to die

Frigga- tells him not to make things worse (fucking rich coming from the woman who exacerbated his trauma immeasurably by thrusting the throne upon him when he was at his most vulnerable)

Wild, man. I wonder why Loki's convinced his family doesn't give a shit about him. They seem like such loving people to me.

“I remember a shadow,” Loki said bitterly. “Living in the shade of your greatness. I remember you tossing me into an abyss. I who was and should be king!”

Because you would have destroyed Asgard, Thor thought. Just to impress our father, you would have annihilated all the Nine Realms. “So you took the world I love as recompense for your imagined slights? No. The Earth is under my protection, Loki.”

1) Actually, he was trying to save Asgard... from a war that YOU started, numbnuts. He went about it all wrong because he was having a fucking mental breakdown, but at no stage did he even really endanger Asgard, let alone come close to destroying it.

2) Um, what? Where the fuck in Loki's plan was annihilating anything other than Jötunheim? I see Thor shares his friends' impressive conclusion-jumping skills. Not surprising.

3) Thor, I mean this truly and without reservation: go fuck yourself.

Loki chuckled. “And you’re doing a marvelous job with that. The humans slaughter each other in droves while you idly fret. I mean to rule them, and why should I not?”

He... has a point.

“You think yourself above them?”

“Well, yes.”

At least Loki is honest about his condescension, Thor. You should try it sometime.

Suddenly furious, Loki raged at Thor. “I’ve seen worlds you’ve never known about! I have grown, Odinson, in my exile. I have seen the true power of the Tesseract, and when I wield it—”

“Who showed you this power?” Thor interrupted. “Who controls the would-be king?”

And he will never bring this up again. Ever.

Stepping right up to his brother, Thor shouted back. “Not here! You give up the Tesseract! You give up this poisonous dream!” Then he softened. “You come home.”

“I don’t have it,” Loki said. Furious, Thor brought Mjolnir to his hand, ready for battle.

Thor's sort of a one-solution kind of guy, huh? Somebody help me out here, because he's "changed" but his first instinct when he's not getting his way is still to react with intimidation and violence. Funny how that works.

Tony braked and skidded to a halt as the Asgardian rolled away from him, tearing up trees and brush as he went. He got to his feet and extended a warning hand. “Do not touch me again,” he said.

Oh, what's the matter, Thor? Do you not like being manhandled? That's weird because you sure do seem to enjoy doing the manhandling. 😕

“If he gives up the cube, he’s all yours. Until then…” Tony’s faceplate clamped back down. “Stay out of the way.”

He turned to walk back to a place where he could make a clean takeoff. “Tourist,” he muttered.

That was the last straw, apparently, because the next thing Tony knew, the Asgardian’s hammer had hit him about as hard as he’d ever been hit in his life. The force of the blow carried him through the trunk of a tree and laid him out flat in the dirt.

Please note that Thor was not being attacked. He once again used offensive violence against someone who hurt his feelbads. "Changed", my rear.

“Then prove it,” Cap said. “Put that hammer down.”

“Uh, no, bad call,” Iron Man said. “He loves his hammer—”

The Asgardian interrupted Tony by smashing him out of the way with a backhand swing. “You want me to put the hammer down?” he roared, and leaped high into the air, bringing his hammer down toward Captain America.

And again—not in any immediate danger, simply reacting with violence to something that made him angry.

“Oh, I’ve heard. A mindless beast. Makes play he’s still a man. How desperate are you, that you call on such lost creatures to defend you?”

“How desperate am I?” Fury echoed. He walked slowly over the catwalk to stand in front of Loki. “You threaten my world with war. You steal a force you can’t hope to control. You talk about peace, but you kill because it’s fun. You have made me very desperate. You might not be glad that you did.”

This is called 'projection', kids. Projection, and making up stories about your enemies so they're easier to hate. Fury needs to show his work.

Loki knew he had been heard throughout the ship. He could hear the echoes of the speakers, and even if he had not, he always knew when people were listening to him. That was part of his power, to make them listen… and to make each of them hear something just a little different. Just what he wanted them to hear.

This doesn’t mean anything, does it??

Perhaps he was in a cage right now, but he had been in cages before. Not once had one been able to hold him for long.

This... has to be a reference to his time with the Black Order, right? There's certainly no basis for such a statement pre-2011.

Or the author is just on crack. That's very possible.

Thor took a step toward Bruce. “Have a care how you speak,” he warned. “Loki is beyond reason, but he is of Asgard… and he is my brother.”

“He killed eighty people in two days,” Natasha pointed out.

Citation needed, please.

“Well, I promise a stress-free environment. No tension, no surprises…” As he spoke, Tony walked behind Bruce and gave him a little zap with an electrical instrument.

“Ow!” Bruce said.

Tony looked closely at him. “Nothing?” He’d been testing Bruce to see how well he controlled the Hulk. The little shock hadn’t provoked any kind of unusual reaction, which Tony seemed to find a little disappointing.

Ok, but what exactly was Tony's plan if Bruce had Hulked out here? lmao

“Steve,” Bruce said, “tell me none of this smells a little funky to you.”

Cap looked back and forth between the two scientists. Bruce could tell he was struggling with something… but he also wasn’t going to share it. He was too much of a good soldier for that.

🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄

“Yeah. I’ll read all about it.”

“Or you’ll be suiting up with the rest of us.”

Bruce shook his head with a regretful smile. “No, see, I don’t get a suit of armor. I’m exposed. Like a nerve. It’s a nightmare.”

Bruce has BPD. Lol

No, you guys don't understand. That's literally what it feels like.

Thor watched over Coulson’s shoulder as the agent showed him S.H.I.E.L.D.’s current files on Jane Foster. When he had learned that Loki had captured Erik Selvig, his first thought had been of Jane. Thor had destroyed the Bifrost to save the Nine Realms, but he had also cut himself off from her… or so he had thought. It was a terrible decision to make, sacrificing love for duty—yet Thor had done it. If necessary, he would do it again. He hoped it would not be necessary, though, and that was one reason why he had asked Coulson about Jane.

Oh my god, Thor. You spent like, three days with her, max. And people call Loki the dramatic one...

Thor looked out into the sky, gathering his thoughts. “When I first came to Earth,” he went on, “Loki’s rage followed me here, and your people paid the price. Now, again. In my youth, I courted war.”

“War hasn’t started yet,” Fury said.

1) Correction: when your daddy threw you to Earth like a sack of trash down a cosmic garbage chute. You were not here on vacation, bro.

2) No, Loki's rage followed your treasonous friends.

3) LAST YEAR. YOUR 'YOUTH' WAS LAST YEAR.

4) *committed mass murder over an insult

“You think you could make Loki tell us where the Tesseract is?”

This possibility hadn’t occurred to Thor. “I do not know,” he said. “Loki’s mind is far afield. It’s not just power he craves. It’s vengeance, upon me. There’s no pain that would pry that need from him.”

1) Opposing Thor = being crazy. Noted.

2) Not everything is about you, buddy. At the risk of repeating myself, this is the guy I'm supposed to believe learned humility? Really? Where?

3) Please note that Thor does not object to torturing Loki because it's immoral or because the thought of hurting Loki pains him. He objects because he doesn't believe it will work.

Thor held Fury’s gaze. It was not the first time he had looked at a one-eyed man who posed him a difficult question. “What are you asking me to do?” he asked, wanting Fury to be clear and to own his words.

“I’m asking what you are prepared to do,” Fury said quietly.

“Loki is a prisoner,” Thor said. He thought Fury was testing him, seeing if he would violate his ideals to find out something they all needed to know. But Thor would not.

"I'm okay with physically assaulting prisoners if they make me mad, but I suddenly draw the line at torture. Even though my 'ideals' didn't appear to be a concern two sentences ago."

If I feel like being generous to Thor, maybe he initially hoped Fury would back off if he just said torture wouldn't work, and then Thor wouldn't have to risk appearing... soft? Weak? I don't know.

“But you figured I’d come,” she said.

“After,” Loki said. “After whatever tortures Fury can concoct, you would appear as a friend, as a balm. And I would cooperate.” It was a typical approach. Cause misery, and then let someone appear as a friendly face. The miserable person would say anything to keep this friend. Loki had seen strong men break this way, many times.

I'm not sure why the author felt the need to depersonalize this by talking about other men. Loki knows this experience intimately. It's what he's endured his entire life at the hands of his "loving" family. The torture just wasn't physical then as far as we know.

An interesting story, Loki thought. She has much to atone for. He could hear some of her memories, from before her first encounter with Barton. Little girl, he thought, you’ve done some very bad things. And now you think you owe Clint Barton your life… but there is more to it. Loki could tell there was something in her mind that he was not quite uncovering. He pushed a little more.

Is... is this text implying that Loki can read people's minds/memories even without touching them?

“Can you?” he asked. “Can you wipe out that much red?” He listed for her some of the things he knew she had done. “Dreykov’s daughter… São Paulo… the hospital fire? Barton told me everything.” This was a lie. Barton had told Loki certain things about Romanoff, but he was also guessing some others.

He... guessed the details of these very specific incidents? What? lmao

He pushed ahead. Now that he understood her, he could break her. “Your ledger is dripping, it’s gushing red, and you think saving a man no more virtuous than yourself will change anything? Pathetic. You lie and kill in the service of liars and killers. You pretend to be separate, to have your own code, something that makes up for the horrors, but they are part of you and they will never go away.”

He's talking about himself again. 🥺

For some reason, this book skips right over the part where Loki threatens both Barton's and Natasha's lives. Not sure why; the author clearly has no problem depicting Loki as an unhinged psychopath most of the time. Oh well, whatevs.

Loki couldn’t understand how she had gathered her composure so quickly—and then he did understand. She was a superb actress! Or not even an actress, for he could see through a conscious performance. She was something else. She had been broken down and remade so many times, with so many identities, that she could put them on and take them off at will. And Loki had gotten lost in those emotional costume changes.

He had been outwitted by a mortal. Unthinkable.

Yeah, phew, it's a good thing Natasha figured it out in time. Otherwise, something terrible might have happened—like Bruce Hulking out and rampaging through the Helicarrier. Oh, wait...

“I was wrong, Director,” Cap said. “The world hasn’t changed a bit.” He looked angry and disappointed. Captain America was a big believer in shooting straight and telling the truth. He didn’t like spies and he didn’t like lies, and now he saw he was knee-deep in both.

This novel's hero worship of Steve Rogers is going to kill me. 🙄

“I’d like to know why S.H.I.E.L.D. is using the Tesseract to build weapons of mass destruction,” Bruce finished.

“Because of him,” Fury said, pointing at Thor.

“Me?”

“Last year, Earth had a visitor from another planet who had a grudge match that leveled a small town,” Fury said. “We learned that not only are we not alone, but we are hopelessly, hilariously, outgunned.”

Has anyone figured out yet how this line doesn't conflict with Captain Marvel? Is Fury lying to hide her existence for some reason? Or is this just one of those things that we're supposed to shrug and pretend wasn't retconned?

“A nuclear deterrent,” Tony said. “Because that always calms everything right down.”

“Remind me again how you made your fortune, Stark,” Fury said coldly.

On the one hand, yes, good point. But on the other hand, he... stopped making them? So clearly, he no longer thinks they are a good thing?

And also, not to gloss over his past sins, but wasn't Tony born rich? Lol

“I thought humans were more evolved than this,” Thor commented.

Tony turned on Thor. “Excuse me, did we come to your planet and blow stuff up?”

Didn't Fury say this in the movie? Why did the author give the line to Tony instead? There are all these... weird changes in the story that are so minor I have no idea why the author made them. Very confusing.

Just like that, all of them were arguing. Cap and Tony were nose to nose, while Bruce and Natasha fired remarks back and forth. Thor stood off to the side, contempt plain on his face.

'Cause he also thinks he's superior to humans. 🙃

Tony and Cap squared off over an argument that they couldn’t even remember starting. Tony was still mad about the last thing Cap had said to him… whatever it was.

In case there was any doubt about the sceptre being the reason everyone starts losing their shit with one another.

Cap stood his ground. “Big man in a suit of armor. Take that off, what are you?”

Tony had an answer ready for this one. “Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist.”

Hey Steve? You know he invented the suit, right? Like. The suit is literally him.

“Put on the suit,” Cap said. “Let’s go a few rounds.”

Steve putting out big Joe Biden, "listen, fat..." energy here lmao

Thor laughed. “You people are so petty… and tiny.”

Thor, my dude. You literally started a war over being emasculated in front of your friends. I don't think you get to judge other people for being petty.

Fury could see things were spiraling out of control. He started trying to get them all back on track. “Agent Romanoff,” he said, “would you escort Dr. Banner back to—”

“Where?” Bruce interrupted. “My room? You rented my room.”

Nobody had said it out loud, but they all knew the cell currently holding Loki was designed for the Hulk.

What was their plan for containing the Hulk if necessary after sticking Loki in his cage, anyway? Did they even have one?

“Dr. Banner,” Cap said. “Put down the scepter.”

Bruce looked down. He hadn’t even known he’d picked it up.

Why does that sound familiar...?

Even though he could see what was going on, the hostility in the air was still thick enough that Bruce didn’t know whether he could back everyone down… or whether he could back himself down. He could feel tension rising inside him. He could feel the monster trying to get loose.

And yet none of them so much as considers the idea that the sceptre might be having a similar effect on Loki? Ok then.

But even though he was now refocused on the mission, the others still bickered. Loki had gotten into their heads, sowing discord and setting them against each other.

lmao I'd just like to note that Loki didn't actually do anything. This was all them and the effects of just being near the sceptre. #ThanksLoki

“The Tesseract belongs to Asgard,” Thor said.

Why, though?

“I’ll go after it,” Tony said.

“No you don’t,” Cap said, stepping into his way. He wasn’t ready to forget the way Tony had insulted him.

Ok, first of all, you started it. But also, seriously, Steve, that's your number one priority right now? Earth's mightiest heroes, ladies and gentlemen... lol

I have apparently managed to hit the paragraph limit, so we'll return after this short break, I guess. 🙈

↪️ On to Part Two

[gerec]

AU-gust 2021 Prompts

1. Ancient Gods AU - Part 1

Thank you to all for the wonderful suggestions for today's prompt; though I ended up doing something else, it was partly sparked by @falconowl's Orpheus and Euridice idea so thank you :D Instead of that particular Greek myth I went with a different one - Medusa the Gorgon. I've always loved the interpretation of her transformation by Athena as a way to protect her from predation and not as a punishment. This is my take on the story with Erik as Medusa and Charles as Perseus - though the ending won't be as it was in the myth. (Also, Charles doesn't show up until the next Part).

Warnings: Erik/Shaw, noncon (not explicit)

----

Inside the White Queen’s temple, Erik hid, believing foolishly that he would find safety and shelter within her hallowed halls. For she was the goddess of the orphaned and downtrodden, bent and broken by the whims of fate and the hands of men.

He prayed for her help; for her to intervene, and yet…He came.

“Why do you hide from me?” The Black King’s voice reverberated within the marble walls, and made the temple shake on its foundation. The god was mighty, and beautiful, and yet he filled Erik’s heart with terror and dread. “I wish only to honor you with my presence, child, and bequeath to you a simple…gift.”

Erik trembled, and his throat closed as the immortal touched him, tilting his chin up, up, up, to gaze into those stormy eyes. “I am nothing, oh Lord God of the Seven Seas. Please…I’m unworthy of your majestic company.”

His words only made the Black King laugh, and then he was made to kneel at the god’s feet, watching in horrified awe as He shrank down to Erik’s height, taking on the countenance of a mortal man in his prime. “And yet I choose you, Erik son of Jakob, for you are most comely to my eternal eyes. Submit to me, or all that you love will suffer my wrath.”

And so, Erik laid still on the cold stone floor, as the Black King defiled his virgin body, eager to elicit from him the greatest extremes of both pleasure and pain. He was made to shed tears and blood for hours beyond counting, until the Black King finally grew bored and withdrew to his domain. That is how the White Queen found him when she finally returned to her sacred temple; Erik, his clothes torn and tattered, body ruined beneath the statue bearing Her face.

“I called for you,” Erik said, as the White Queen looked upon his pitiful state, eyes bright with a fury barely contained. “You’ve forsaken me.”

“I come too late.” Her gaze softened as she bent to cradle his head. She was a goddess, and would never deign to explain or apologize to a mortal, and yet Erik could see clearly the sorrow in her eyes, and the burning desire to make things right. “This travesty shall not go unanswered.”

It mattered not, what the gods and goddesses did to one another in their home above the clouds, and nothing the White Queen intended would give back what was taken. “Mercy…please. Grant me a swifter death, for my body is broken.”

“I cannot. I will not,” She answered, and Erik almost screamed aloud in frustration and despair. “You carry within you the Black King’s seed, and your body will birth his children upon your death. Twins…monsters great and powerful to do His bidding. I would deny Him such gain at your expense, child.”

“And yet I will die,” Erik said, and he did weep then, for himself, and the family he would never see again – his parents, and his sisters Raven and Ruth. “I feel it, the breath in my lungs slipping as the blood drains from my body. Please…if I have ever pleased you…I beg you to end my suffering.”

The White Queen brushed the matted hair from his forehead and smiled. “Erik, my beloved child and faithful servant; you will live and you will endure, for one day, the Fates will bring you one truly deserving of your kind heart and fighting spirit. Now, sleep, and wake to a new life.”

Erik slept, and woke in a body, utterly changed.

[masqueradeball]

How about number 3? Like, tell us all about it if you want :)

Oh my gosh 🥺 thank you so much for giving me my first ask! 💖 I'm eternally grateful I get to spill all my pheels out.

3. What is my favorite Phantom tv/film adaptation?

My absolute favorite Phantom is the 1925 Lon Chaney silent film. He just embodies everything that I like about Gaston Leroux's Erik for me and he is both horrifying and pitiable. I dislike the ending but I can live with it given it's what test audiences wanted at the time. I truly love his Red Death costume. You can find it on Youtube and the Tubi app for free.

My first runner up would be Claude Raines in the 1943 because his Erique so soft and tragic in that film I cannot help but love him. This was one was my grandma's favorite 'classic monster' movies that she loved, so I have a special place in my heart for this one. I love his hair and appreciate that he was one fine silver fox before the revenge and jealousy issues set in. The opera parts are a little boring, but the costumes and the sassy diva rival to Christine are worth the watch. We get 2 handsome Raouls who end up going to dinner together at the end of the movie and a Christine who gets to bask in the limelight of her career while not choosing any suitor, which is the best possible outcome for her. Double play for the win in my book! You can watch it for free on the Peacock app.

My next runner up is a 3 way tie between Robert Englund, Gerard Butler, and Charles Dance.

I honestly enjoy all their performances because they each bring something unique to the role.

I cannot stress enough how violent the Robert Englund version is if you want to give it a go, but Erik Destler is insane, twisted, and fabulously murdertastic in this. I love the creepy, evil vibes the man gives off. Think of this film as a time travel AU of the original novel. I feel like he nailed Leroux Erik's darker, snarky personality that some people tend to forget he had and the gothic horror parts of the original novel are there. Bonus: they keep the Faust parallels like in the novel!

I'm gonna say it: I love the Charles Dance miniseries. I know it's not the best, but damn, he is so dry and sarcastic I cannot help but enjoy his performance. I want to pinch his cheeks and smother Cherik with the love his father never gave him everytime I see him. Again, this one focuses on the operas a lot, and for me it's a bit boring. But the backgrounds, settings, and props in this thing are fantastic and the costumes are wonderful too.

That leaves Gerard Butler in the 2004 movie. No he is not the world's greatest singing Phantom, but I don't care. I absolutely love his facial expressions and body language. The Phantom is an emotional, expressive dude and the Red Death costume scene is pretty good. I love how kind and sincere Emmy feels in this film and I appreciate she's not overracting and doesn't feel fake compared to some other Christines *coughSierracough* Being the film version of the ALW musical, this Phantom story focuses on the romance and Gerard excels at that. When he and Christine are singing Past the Point of no Return, I FEEL THEIR PASSION! And that's what counts more so than hitting the same notes we've all heard a million times before.

Now for the versions in the 'I will eternally like this' category 😊 :

The Phantom of the Paradise from 1974. This is also a very violent and dark film so fair warning if you haven't seen it. It's a bizarre rock musical, but if you're weird like me and enjoy Rock & Rule or the Rocky Horror Picture Show, this might be a film you'd like too. I don't want to spoil it too much but the Faust/devil parallels are here too, as is various pop culture references. His teeth and mask are terrifyingly cool, and so is the electronic voice box he uses. It makes sense Daft Punk was inspired by this film. Maybe G1 Soundwave was inspired by this film too, but that's a debate for another day 😉

Next is the animated 1988 film. This one features animation on par with other 80s tv cartoons of the time. I love that they kept the Persian and the torture chamber from the novel. The Phantom's death scene is pretty damn epic. Christine is kind of a flake, but animated Leroux Erik is hilariously insane and terribly charming, especially when he calls himself a Don Juan. It's worth watching just for his antics and his dialouge.

You might not expect a Goosebumps episode to do a Phantom story any justice, but here we are: 1995, The Phantom of the Auditorium is a spooky fun take on the story and honestly, I'd like to see the full play the kids at that school are putting on cause it looks better than some of the live Phantom stage scenes I've seen. Both young boys playing the Phantom are fantastic actors and the plot twist at the end is great.

I absolutely have to give a shout out to Wishbone's Pantin at the Opera. He is the best, cutest, most adorable Raoul de Chagney ever and I will fight you if you dare talk smack about this version. I'm not even a Raoul stan by any means but like, this dog is precious and I enjoy this episode so much.

Also in the animated category and cute dog category is Scooby Doo Stage Fright made back in 2013. This movie is one of my fave Scooby Doo films (yes I own almost all of them on dvd) and there are multiple Phantoms, a reality tv show contest, and Fred and Daphne finally kiss each other! Lots and lots of hidden Phantom references in the background and lots of voice acting talent for those of us who appreciate that.

Now for the versions I intensely dislike 😏

The 1962 Herbert Lom version. UGH where to start. The sets are so small and everything looks dirty and of the wrong time period. The color in the film looks washed out. The clothes look too modern somehow (maybe it's their hairstyles?) and it bothers me. It feels low budget in a bad way and it shows. This phantom is not likeable or pitiable even though his backstory is similar to the Claude Raines version. He has no romantic interest in Christine, so it feels off. This guy is such an old a$$ piece of sh*t, he literally slaps Christine as she's singing for him for no damn reason. His paper mache mask looks like a Kindergartener's botched art class project. His personality is like somebody locked up cranky grandpa in the basement and he's PMS-ing because y'all forgot to give him his daily prune juice. This squatter's lair lacks creepiness, and his bizarre sidekick is annoying and yet somehow more interesting than the Phantom. The pervert manager trying to bang Christine aggravated me and simultaneously made me want to vomit. Raoul is the only likeable character in the whole damn movie. The Joan of Arc opera scene makes up for some of the film, but it's still terrible.

Next on my meh list is the 1983 made for tv movie starring Micheal York and Jane Seymour. Now, this one has some likeable and applaudable scenes: the various murders and general creepiness of the Phantom, and the lair scene when she wakes up in his bed and the Phantom gets all up in her face is so intense and so Leroux I absolutely love it. The rest of the film is a jumbled hot mess at best, but Jane Seymour is 🔥 and she gets some damn good sex, so hell yeah to that!

And lastly, I do not like the Royal Albert Hall 25th anniversary recording. I should preface this by saying it is Sierra I don't like. I like Ramin, I love Hadley, everyone else is wonderful but I cannot stand Sierra. She tries too hard to make Christine a Disney Princess- and that doesn't fly with me. It comes off as insincere or mocking the source material at best, and at worst it makes Christine look like an airheaded ditz. Apparently Sierra played Ariel at one point which is hilarious because of all the Disney princesses, I dislike her the most. But that's a different rant for another day.

And finally, the one I hate most of all:

The 1998 Argento film. This is the worst Phantom adaptation I've ever seen. It is a whole lotta nope for me. Between the rats, the unecessary and pointless telepathy, the r*pe scene, and the unfunny weird vibe from the murder going on in this film it's a disaster from start to finish. Honestly, it's the rats and his hair that bother me from a visual standpoint alone and it's beyond disgusting the way this a$$🤡 treats Christine. I don't like any of the characters in here and for good reason. It's not worth watching and if you do, be ready to bleach your brain afterwards.

💖 Sorry if this was a long read! Thanks again for giving me an ask and I will cherish it forver!!!! 💖

[thadelightfulone]

All I Want... 25 Days of Christmas Challenge, Day 6

November 21st - Part 3

DeeDee heard both her phone and computer go off at the same time. She sighed, turned away from the computer and picked up the phone. She decided to see what the girls had to say first. 

Phyll: DeeDee. We can just hit the hookah spot tonight. No club.

Bev: Yeah, and you know you love the wings from Hakeem’s place. It’s a win-win for all of us.

“Ooooh, Hakeem’s wings.” Her stomach gurgled at the thought. “Ok, maybe not.”

DeeDee: Sorry ladies. I have a bottle of wine and a very interesting book calling my name. But you two have fun. 

Bev: Fine. Next week, then?

DeeDee: Yes, Bev. Definitely next week, I have no class or work. 

Bev: Great.  

Phyll: Punk. 

DeeDee: Love you both. Night. 

Bev: Night.

Phyll: Yeah.

DeeDee slid the phone on the coffee table and picked up the computer. Now, back to her book. She clicked on Erik’s email and started to read. 

SUBJECT: RE: ‘MgYHeArTaNdSOULa’

Ms. DeeDee, 

There is no need to pout. I promise you that. 

So, you want a career in teaching. You love to see it. I think that is amazing. 

It reminds me of the work I started when I first came to the Center. I used to run an afterschool science program for the local kids. With the same goal as you, I wanted more of us in STEM careers, looking out for us. 

Reading. I wish I had more time to do it. A good book is always a great escape. 

Speaking of which, what are you getting into tonight? 

Mister Erik

“My night? Oh, just in front of my computer. Talking to a man, I didn’t even know existed until a week ago. Just spilling my guts.”

DeeDee never told anyone that her parents met at Southern, but something about Erik made her want to share that with him. Then realization dawned on her. It was another perfect set up for him to talk about his love life and he smoothly dodged it again.

“This damn man.” She rolled her eyes and got up to put the rest of the pizza away. 

“And of course, he used to work with kids.” Like he couldn’t be anymore interesting. DeeDee sighed as her smile returned. She grabbed another bottle from the fridge. It was definitely about to be that kind of night. 

DeeDee came back to the couch and picked up the notebook. She pulled out the neatly folded note, spread it flat and read it for the umpteenth time. 

On paper, he seemed like a dream. Talking to him, even better. There is no way that he was not happily taken by some extremely lucky woman.

DeeDee wondered what it would have been like if she had met him while he was still at Southern. She was on campus back then. A shy and soft-spoken junior who lived in the chemistry labs on campus. And Erik obviously would have been in and out of those same labs, too. 

It’s funny that they never did meet. “I would have remembered crossing paths with him.”

But then again, she didn’t meet Dr. O until he was a Grad Assistant for one of her organic chemistry classes. And she never thought, he would be her mentor when she joined the Ph.D program.  

And then there’s that part. One degree of separation and it just has to be that he is friends with Dr. O. Erik is obviously entertaining her for professional reasons, and not because he could be interested in her romantically.

“Get it together Dee. He is taken.” And yet, somewhere deep inside she kind of hoped that he wasn’t. That maybe he could see her for more than just his friend’s student. 

DeeDee looked back at Erik’s email, quickly wrote her reply and closed the laptop. She popped the cork on the new bottle and started drinking directly from it. With wine in hand, she got up and started swaying to the soothing sounds of Alex Isley and Masego’s ‘Good and Plenty.’ 

--- 

It had only been 15 minutes, but to Erik it felt like forever and he worried that maybe she did have other plans. He ran upstairs to change into some work out clothes and came down when his email chimed. He ran over to read it immediately. 

SUBJECT: RE: ‘MgYHeArTaNdSOULa’

Mister Erik, 

I am sitting on my couch, enjoying pizza and wine. Although, my bottle is gone. 

Other than that, I have no plans for the night. 

I let my best friends drag me out last night, so indoors it is for me. 

What about you? Any plans for the evening, like with someone special? 

It’s pretty early over there; like 7 in Cali, right? 

Anyways, I should probably let you enjoy the evening. Don’t be a stranger.

Miss DeeDee

“Wait! What?” Erik rapidly typed his response and sent it to her. He dropped down onto his couch. “I really lost my touch and can’t even talk to a woman anymore.”

He only asked because he didn’t want to assume she was gonna be available to chat via email all night. Erik knew he would do it, too. He was fascinated with her. He wanted to hear whatever she was willing to share with him. And yes, that meant even if he eventually had to answer the question. 

Erik went to the kitchen and got two bottles of water. From the living room, grabbed the tablet and headed to his downstairs gym. If DeeDee stopped responding at least he could work off whatever feelings arose. He set everything down besides the punching bag.

---

DeeDee had danced and drank all around her living room. But once she started to spin, the dance party came to an abrupt halt. The wine finally caught up with her and she plopped down on the couch. She slowly leaned over to set the quarter full bottle down on the table and opened the laptop. 

She had a new email. She squinted at the screen. From Erik. 

Her chest started pounding, so she took a few deep breaths and opened it. 

SUBJECT: RE: ‘MgYHeArTaNdSOULa’

Miss DeeDee,

It is a rare night in for me. I usually work on Saturdays, but I have had the whole day to myself. 

I played ball with some kids from the neighborhood this morning. And I cooked earlier this afternoon and was planning to watch a movie before turning in. 

However, I have been having a wonderful conversation and don’t really want it to end. 

Would you care to join me on a video call?

Erik

“WHAT?” DeeDee threw her laptop down on the couch. She stood up and paced the floor, slowly. “He’s gotta be kidding. Right?” She looked at the message on the screen again. 

She sat back down and sent the first thing that came to mind. Was this actually happening? What is going on? Her thoughts were circling around in her head and all through a wine-induced fog. Just her luck. 

“He --” DeeDee giggled, “Oh my god.” She dropped her face into her hands. 

---

Cool, calm and collected, he was not. Erik’s stomach was in knots while he waited for DeeDee’s response, if any. He hit the punching bag a few times in jest before the nervous energy kept him going. He stayed there for 15 minutes before moving to the free weights in the corner. 

As Erik laid back on the bench to start lifting the barbell, he heard the email alert. He slowly sat up. His heart couldn’t race any faster since he had been working out anyway. But it felt like it was gonna just fly out of his chest. He wrung his hands while he sat on the bench. 

He stood up and made his way over to the punching bag where everything was. Erik grabbed a nearby towel and wiped himself off before he picked up the tablet. 

“Now or never.” He unlocked it and opened DeeDee’s email. 

SUBJECT: RE: ‘MgYHeArTaNdSOULa’

Uh Mister Erik, 

I am enjoying our conversation as well. But I am not camera ready. And I am definitely not changing to get ready either. 

Let’s do it some other time. 

DeeDee

Erik released the biggest breath. He didn’t realize that he was holding it as he read her answer. Then he started to chuckle. And that small chuckle grew into a big full body laugh. It even echoed off the walls, but he could not help it. He was relieved by what he read, and knew exactly how to respond to it. 

He grabbed all his stuff and left the gym. He went upstairs to his bedroom. Erik sent the email and dropped his tablet on the bed. 

SUBJECT: RE: ‘MgYHeArTaNdSOULa’

Now DeeDee, 

Did I say anything about being all dressed up for this call? Doesn’t matter if you are in a hoodie and some sweats. 

I just wanted to have the face-to-face interactions while we chat because I can imagine you pouting about a silly question. And I am sure you want to see my reactions to you calling me Mister after I told you not to. 

No pressure, though. You have my email, so use it to connect to me if you want. I’ll be around, you know, since it’s early over here. 

Erik

Taglist: @teakturn​ @ghostfacekill-monger​ @shaekingshitup​ @nahimjustfeelingit-writes​ @woahitslucyylu​ @ladymac82​ @bugngiz​ @eyeknowmywrites​ @ajspencer1892​ @arafatih​ @issimplyaamazinggg​ @tchallasbabymama​

[kurt-nightcrawler]

destress

Scott Summers x Female Reader

request: OMG, I love your page so much. It’s so pretty and beyond beautifully thought out. 💕 i was wondering if I could please request a Scott Summers x reader. Something where she helps Scott adjust to everything when he first arrives and she’s always checking up on him to make sure it’s all good, they become quick best friends and on one of the nights where he’s most stressed, she takes him out to get his mind off of things. Thank you for your time and consideration! 🥰♥️

a/n: I am so sorry this request took so long! I am one of the slowest writers in history, I am so sorry! I hope you enjoy it

Word Count: 3.4k

 Being the new kid sucked, everyone knew this. Even if you ended up popular as the new kid it sucked.

It was even worse if you had laser eyes that could kill people, and you had to wear sunglasses all the time. 

That’s how it was for Scott Summers, younger brother of Alex Summers. Scott was a mess— he just moved from Ohio to Xavier’s in New York, and he barely knew anything about it! His brother didn’t say much to him about Xavier’s— hell he wasn’t even around much. When he was though, he tried to spend time with Scott and be a good big brother, make his parents proud and crap. 

So when Scott got a mutation and destroyed the boy’s bathroom at his school, Alex picked him up and took him to New York.

-

Scott’s first night was rather… odd. He couldn’t see, and he bumped into some weird chick who could read minds. Not to mention the building shook during the night. 

Scott didn’t have a roommate, so he had no one to ask questions. No one to help him around the building. No one to be his friend. 

Okay, he wasn’t that lonely. He didn’t need a roommate to make friends at school. He just needed to get out. Except he couldn’t see.

-

The next day he was taken outside by Dr. McCoy. 

“I made you some glasses… They should help you reflect the beam and trap them in the ruby quartz, so you can see.”

Scott didn’t want to get his hopes up, but he was desperate. To see again would be a goddamn miracle. 

He slipped them on and opened his eyes. He saw the sky… the clouds… the trees— it was breathtaking. How he took everything for granted! He was a fool.

“Thank you, Professor. Thank you!” Everything was red in some way, shape, or form, but he couldn’t care less about that. He could see and that was the most important thing.

“I’m not a professor…” Hank mumbled. “Yeah, no, of course. Of course. I’m glad they worked.” 

“Dr. McCoy! Alex said you needed me.” 

Scott looked at her. She had all normal features, so her mutation had to be something mental or along those lines. 

“Did he say what for?” 

She didn’t confirm or deny his question. “He said you’d be outside with Scott and I had to help him out since he was new and stuff.” 

Does she think I’m a charity project? Does Alex Think I’m that dependent? “You don’t have to do that.”

“Uh, I kinda do… It’s either me or Jubilee at the moment, and trust me, Jubilee is not the match for you. You pissed her best friend off so now she kinda hates you.” 

“I’m sorry?” What did he even do? Was Jubilee’s friend the girl Scott ran into yesterday? 

“Jean Grey, you bumped into her yesterday. She’s over there by the tree.” (Y/N) motioned to the tree. 

“Oh.” Scott felt sheepish. He didn’t mean to snap at her. He just wasn’t in the best of mindsets. Also, he really didn’t want any enemies at his new school.

“We can go talk to her if you want. I’m sure she won’t be mad, just tell her it was a misunderstanding.” 

“You sure?” 

“Yeah, come on,” (Y/N) made her way over to the tree and Scott followed.

“Hey, Jean.”

“Hey (Y/N).” She didn’t look up from her schoolwork. “Scott.”

“Hi. Hi, um… look I wanted to apologize—“

A group of smaller kids was standing a ways away from the tree, but near enough, so they could be heard. 

“Look, it’s her!” 

“Careful she might cause an earthquake!” 

“She’s dangerous.”

Scott saw the kids and thought they were afraid of him and his eyes, as he scared a couple of people yesterday. “Hey! It’s okay now. I got special glasses. I can see.” 

“It’s not you, they’re afraid of,” Jean stated. 

(Y/N) tried to hide her eye roll. “It’s not that bad. They’re little, they’re scared of everyone.” 

“What are you guys talking about?” Scott asked. “Wait… last night…”

Jean frowned, “Yep, that was me.”

“You made the building shake.” 

Jean nodded, “you’re not the biggest freak in school.” 

(Y/N) looked between the two. Did Jean have a crush on Scott already? He’d only been at Xavier’s for two days!

“Guess not… Um look, about yesterday—“

“It’s fine. I get it.” She waved him off.  “When your mutation first happens it’s a lot of stress and stuff.”

“Yeah but, I was a dick. I was wondering if we could start over?” 

Jean was taken back by Scott’s request. She never thought he’d apologize. 

“Oh, yeah. Of course, we can.” They shook hands and exchanged names. 

“And I’m (Y/N).”

“Um…” 

“(Y/N), we know that…” Jean stated. 

“Yeah, well I wanted to feel included.” 

“Okay.”

-

Scott, you had decided, was going to be so much fun. He knew his way around the mall and wasn’t half bad at Pac-Man. He liked Star Wars and cherry slushies, however, he could only see red due to his glasses, so you had to tell him which was cherry. 

Once you got back to the mansion… it was gone.

Everyone was standing out front, but as soon as you arrived it blew up and everyone was outside in the blink of an eye. 

Scott pulled over and jumped out of the car, running and screaming for his brother. 

“I got everyone.” A guy decked out in silver leather said. Scott glared at him. 

“Where’s my brother?” 

“I dunno man—“ 

“WHERE IS HE?” You had to hold Scott back from hurting the silver man. “No, no. No, no… No! NO!” 

Jean tried to soothe him with her telepathic abilities, but it didn’t do much, it just got him to shut up. You couldn’t even bask in the silence, as a military helicopter landed on the campus grounds. 

“Guys, hide!” Jubilee instructed. You all ran over and hid behind a hunk of stone wall. 

“Why are we—“

“Shh!” Jubilee put her hand over your mouth. The helicopter shot a sound wave of some sort, causing everyone closest to it to get knocked out. A man in military gear shouted at soldiers to collect certain people. He only wanted adults and you could only recognize one of them— Hank McCoy. 

-

Kurt got you all into the helicopter, but couldn’t get you out. You thought you were going to die, but that wasn’t the thing on everyone’s minds. 

Scott was grieving over his brother whom he presumed dead. He was crying silent tears. 

Comfort him. Jean urged you. You weren’t sure how, or if that’s what he needed, but you had no other options. 

You placed a hand on his shoulder in an attempt to show support and in return he hugged you tightly, still crying. You were slightly taken aback at first, but you returned the hug, rubbing his back to try and calm him. 

“He was supposed to do great things… Do something with his life. He shouldn’t have… He didn’t deserve to die!” 

“That’s not what he thought. He thought you were going to do great things, make something of yourself. Why do you think he brought you here?”

He wiped his nose with his sleeve, “How do you know that?” 

“Scott, he told me. He told Hank and Hank said I was the best kid to show you around, and then Alex went on and on about everything great about you and how smart and talented you were and how proud he was of you. He was so proud of you.” 

Scott wiped his tears away and nodded, trying to stop crying and pull himself together for whatever would happen next in the helicopter. 

-

Then Apocalypse happened. The fight with Apocalypse, where you were told to go batshit crazy with your mutations and fight. You felt alive, even with the weight of the world resting on you winning. 

There was so much happening, you couldn’t keep track of anyone but yourself. You had gotten hit badly a few times, but you had to trudge through. 

Jean and Xavier defeated Apocalypse with their powers— it was cool what Jean did. Scary, but cool. They both nearly passed out due to the strain it took on them. 

You ended up back at the pile of rock left of the mansion, most of the students in a state of panic, but all in awe when seeing everyone in the armor, mutations on full display. 

You didn’t want to get Scott’s hopes up, but you couldn’t find Alex, no matter what you did. He had to be dead, under the rock somewhere. 

You held his hand, giving it a caring squeeze. “I’m sorry.” 

“I’ll have to tell my parents once Jean and Magento finish rebuilding the mansion.” 

“Yeah…” 

-

The mansion was almost finished, and there was no sign of Alex. You and Scott had given up hope, but for some reason, Hank persisted. “He can’t… He can’t be dead! This wasn’t supposed to happen!” 

And then you realized Hank wasn’t completely crazy after all. 

A body was trapped under the basement when Jean and Erik were rebuilding. Everyone thought it was Alex. It was Alex, but you weren’t sure if he was alive. 

“He’s unconscious, but he’s alive.” 

Scott jumped up and hugged Hank, thanking him for everything and for finding Alex. 

“He means a lot to us both. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for him.” 

Obviously, an unconscious mind takes time to wake up, and Scott wasn’t allowed to stay at Alex’s side all day. Charles made sure he knew that wasn’t allowed, and he used you to keep track and make sure he wasn’t sneaking down at odd hours of the night or skipping class to see him. 

You offered to help Scott set up his room, mostly because you didn’t care much about yours for the time being. 

“You have a lot of old rock albums.” You stated while placing them all on his bookshelf.

“Most of them were Alex’s.” 

“That’s cool. Did he give you all his old stuff?” 

“Uh, yeah. Most of it, anyway. I have some of his old clothes— leather jackets and stuff, mostly.” 

“Oh, that’s really cool. I guess you guys were close.” 

He nodded, “Yeah, close as we could get, anyway, with the large age gap and all. I really care about him.” 

Peter, Scott’s new roommate and the silver guy who saved everyone from the mansion explosion, came in with some of his own stuff. 

“Hey, guys.” 

“Hi, Pete.” You greeted back. 

“Look, Scott—“

“It’s okay. I know what you’re going to say.” 

“No,” Peter shook his head, “I feel awful about it. Forgetting your brother like that. I’m so sorry. If it were me and someone forgot my sisters in a situation like that, I’d get super angry.”

Scott shrugged, “It’s okay. You got everyone else though— and that’s a lot of people.” 

“Alright… Friends?” He held out his hand for Scott to shake. 

“Friends.” 

They shook on it, and you tried not to laugh at how cheesy the motion was, but you still let out a comment. 

“You’re roommates. You kinda have to be friends.” 

“Huh, I guess so,” Peter mused. 

-

Alex woke up almost two months after the Apocalypse battle. You and Scott were the first to run down and see him. He was in rough condition, but he was alive nonetheless.

“Hey, Scott.” Alex croaked out.

Scott hugged him tightly, “You’re so stupid! I was so worried! Hank was worried, we all freaked out— never do that again.” 

“You don’t have to worry about me. It’s supposed to be the other way around.”

“You almost died! Of course, I’m going to worry about you.”

Alex mumbled something back, but you didn’t hear it.

Hank was there too, contributing to the conversation until Xavier came down and told you all to leave Alex alone so he could rest. 

-

As time went on, you kept an eye on Scott. You were in the same friend group, so that was inevitable. 

You got extremely close— closer than almost anyone else in the group, minus Jubilee and Jean. You told each other about your worries, secrets, past troubles, and your crushes. Scott, despite his persona of a douchebag with sunglasses, or token white guy in an action film, was sweet and empathetic, and smart. He took two AP classes and spent more time training than anyone else. 

“I just want to get control of my mutation and throw better punches.”

“I know. Just don’t overwork yourself.” 

He always said, “Don’t worry about me. I won’t.” But you always worried. He was probably your best friend at the mansion, of course, you’d worry!

-

Winter break came closer and closer with every passing day, which meant midterms were right around the corner. 

Everyone was stressed— downing immortal amounts of caffeine, watching the sunrise and set every day, and rereading notes until their brains exploded. 

Scott was not excused from this, and the night before his first final he was up way past any reasonable hours, studying. 

There was a somewhat-quiet knock on the door, and Scott barely acknowledged it. 

“Hey, dork.”

“Can’t talk.”

You huffed, “You’re no fun.” 

“Sorry, but I really cannot fail any finals.” 

“Scotty, you’ve been studying every second for the past month… C’mon…” You whined.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. You grinned, knowing you’d won. 

“Come on, 7/11 is open late. You can get some food and water. Relax from all this stress… Please?” 

Scott closed his book and got up out of his chair. “Fine.”

“Yes!” You cheered. 

“Let me grab my jacket.” 

You were thrilled you got Scott away from his books for a little bit. You needed a break and it felt like you hadn’t seen him as much as usual. 

-

You talked the whole walk down to the garage. Scott just listened. He liked listening to you speak— about your day, petty drama with your friends, plus anything and everything in between— Scott likes the sound of your voice, and even if you didn’t know what you were saying, it sounded right. Or it did to him, anyway. 

And that was a part of having a best friend, right? 

Scott couldn’t tell, but he thought so. He’d never been this close with a friend before, and he had also never had a real crush on anyone before. 

Crush? I don’t have a crush on, (Y/N). We’re just close. She’s my best friend…

But how many times had that cliche been fulfilled? 

“Scotty?” No response. (Y/N), also couldn’t read his face due to the sunglasses, so she really didn’t know what he was thinking. 

“Scott?” 

“What?”

You chuckled a little, “You zoned out there, buddy.” 

“Oh…” His cheeks were tinted red. 

“You, okay?”

He nodded, picking out keys to one of the cars.

“It’s my turn to drive!” You told him. 

“Yeah, but it’s my turn to pick out the car,” He retorted. 

You rolled your eyes as he tossed you the keys and you unlocked the car. 

Scott climbed into the passenger seat and immediately turned on the radio. “So where are we going?”

“7/11. I want a slushie. Plus—“ You glanced at the clock for a moment. “—It’s the only place open.” 

Scott hummed in agreement. 

You drove in silence for a little bit until you caught Scott staring at you.

 He quickly looked away.  

“Is there something on my face?” 

“No.” He was curt with his answer.

“Why were you looking at me then?” 

“I’ve missed you…” 

You smiled. “I’ve missed you too, Sike.”

 You pulled up to the gas station. It was well lit, considering the late hour it was. There were only two or three cars in total parked there. 

“I’m gonna get some gas first,” You told Scott as you turned off the car. 

He stood there and waited for you. 

“What’s Mystique said about our next mission?” 

Scott sighed a little, “A lot… there’s a chance we’re going to Germany to bust up the mutant fighting ring, but nothing’s for certain.” 

You put the gas pump back in it’s holding spot. “Really? That’s pretty big…” 

“Yeah, but, we fought Apocalypse, so—“ 

“Not everything has to compare. Sure, we don’t have to go local, but we’re allowed to not stop every big bad. It’s just not physically possible.” You held the door open for him. 

“Thanks— It’s our responsibility. If we don’t do it, who will?”

You browsed the snack isles, not giving him an answer. Scott stood there, waiting for one, but knowing you probably couldn’t give it. 

“Oh! Um, look— you’re one person, Scotty, and we’re a team of like, 12 people. What we accomplish is huge! But we won’t win every battle. Losing sucks, I know, but you can’t stress yourself out over it…”

“I just don’t want to regret anything.” He finally picked out a bag of chips. They were plain as could be. 

“I get that, but you can’t spend your whole life doting on ‘what if’s’.” 

You put your items on the counter to be rung up. You pulled your card out of your pocket, but Scott stopped you.

“Here, I got it.” 

“You sure?”

“Yeah, it’s only a couple of dollars.” He handed his card to the cashier. 

“Do you guys need a bag?”

“No, we’re good. Thank you though.” You grabbed your drink and snacks and bid the cashier goodnight. Scott did the same.

“So, now what?” Scott asked once he got in the car.

“Let’s just eat in the car. It’s a change of scenery from the mansion.”

“(Y/N), this isn’t a change of scenery, this is a murder scene!” 

You laughed, “It’s not dark enough for that!” 

Scott huffed.

“Look, if you really wanna die, I can drive us to the park, or Target parking lot.” 

“No, no,” Scott said in between sips of his slushie. “This is fine— perfect actually.” 

You were smug. 

You ate your food in silence for a little bit, exchanging weird glances with Scott. 

“What?” You asked, laughing out of confusion. 

“You’re really pretty,” Scott admitted.

“Pfft…” You scoffed.

“I mean it… You’re a great friend too…” 

“Glad to know we’re best friends cause you think I’m hot,” You joked.

Scott rolled his eyes, knowing you’d never accept the compliment and it was stupid of him to say.

“You know who else is good looking?” You asked. 

“Who?” “Rob Lowe.” 

“From The Outsiders?” Scott asked in disbelief. 

“Mhmm.” You nodded. Scott chuckled. 

“Hey! You had a crush on Sara Anne from third hour for the longest time. You have no room to judge.”

“Yeah, and then we went on a date and I got over it… I also had a crush on Jean—” 

You nodded, and Scott swiped his drink back. “Yeah, but she’s dating Ororo…”

“Speaking of boys…” You laughed at Scott’s poor attempt to change the subject. “You went out with Warren for two months.”

“What’s wrong with Warren?” You asked defensively.

“Nothing! It was just weird, only two months.” 

“I told you.” Scott shook his head. “No? I thought I did. Well, anyway— He was like actually kind of into Jean, and like subconsciously in love with his childhood best friend… Her name was Candy South, I think?”

“Candy Southern?” Scott asked, leaning his chip bag over to you. You took a handful and set it on the center console.

“Yeah! That’s her name.”

“They’re dating right now, she’s nice.”

“Good for him.” 

-

You drove back to the mansion around midnight. You went up to your rooms quietly, trying not to wake anyone up and get caught sneaking in. 

“I’m sorry for being so busy lately.” 

You offered a sad smile, “Not your fault, Scotty.”

“We could hang out this weekend? See what’s at the movie theatre?”

“It’s a date!”

Scott’s mouth gaped open. Your eyes widened in shock. Why did I say that? 

“Uh… It’s not like a date date, but like we’re two people, going to the movies alone—”

“It can be a date if you want.” 

Your mind went blank. Surely you misheard him. 

“Uh, what?”

“I just meant, um, we could— never mind—”

“Do you want it to be a date?” You tried sounding confident in your words, but you were nervous.

“I don’t wanna ruin our friendship…” Scott looked down, avoiding your gaze. 

“Scotty, it’s okay.” 

He nodded, a little unsure.

“It’s a date.” 

“Yeah,” He decided.  “It’s a date.” 

Your face moved forward, lips slightly puckered. You placed a kiss on his cheek. Scott’s face turned red like a tomato. 

“See ya later, Scotty.”

[emptymasks]

Finding something worth taking

Pairing: Erik / Raoul de Chagny

Words: 7401

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Tags: 5+1 Things | Basically | Highwayman AU | Thief Erik | First Meetings | Horsemen | Guns | Horses | Fluff | Class Differences | Robbery | Sexual Tension | Romance

Read on Ao3 @ emptymasks (can’t link it or tumblr will block this post)

Notes: Prompt from an anonymous asker in @fallenidolandfalsefriend​ ‘s askbox. I do not know who you are but thank you for the idea. And thank you Fi for giving me your blessing to use a prompt you got.

Summary: "Well, what do we have here?" The man had to bend considerably to fit through the doorway of the carriage, neck bending harshly against the ceiling as he towered over Raoul. "Such a pretty little thing all alone so late at night. Some little lord? Surely nothing more important with no one here to protect you-"

"A Vicomte, thank you very much. And I need no one's protection other than my own," Raoul was retorting before he could stop himself.

"Someone with some spirit. How... refreshing. Well, little Vicomte. What do you have for me?"

(Alternate title: 5 times Erik robbed Raoul's carriage, and 1 time he got more than he intended to steal.)

Moonlight flickered in and out between the barren branches of the trees that lined either side of the road, light cascading against Raoul's cheeks in small glimpses before being snatched away again. The wheels of the carriage rolled smoothly against the dirt road, only occasionally bumping over some small stone.

It was quiet. Perhaps too quiet.

The lack of birds and wildlife scurrying about and crying was not unusual in the winter months, but even still...

"I know it's a shortcut you seem most fond of gazing at when it's in bloom, but Raoul I would caution you about going down that way. The cold tends to bring out all sorts of vagrants and miscreants," Philippe, his older brother, had warned him before he left.

Raoul felt a little awful for it, but the idea of some danger only had made him more intrigued. He had no death wish, of course not. But as a child he'd been so drawn to stories of fantasy, of pirates, of vigilantes on horseback. He remembered his uncle telling him stories of the famed highwayman Dick Turpin after Raoul's parents had gone to bed and the two of them would sneak downstairs and sit by the fire.

The curiosity was starting to twist a little in Raoul's stomach as they continued down the road. It would only be a minute or so before they would turn off the wooded lane onto a more open road and then another few minutes more until the horses would be clattering against cobblestone and there'd be streetlamps craning overhead. Just a few minutes more.

Moonlight once against vanished from Raoul's face, but this time seemingly with a gust of wind as something seemed to fly right past the window. He slid against to the edge of the bench where it met the wall and pressed his cheek against the glass, straining his eyes as he tried to see to the front of the carriage. But he couldn't see anything. His blue eyes almost glowed with his blonde hair a dusty halo as the light glinted across his face.

Then all of a sudden a whiny broke out and Raoul wondered if one of his horses as the carriage came to an abrupt stop. He was about to rush out of the door when he heard the thud of something, or someone, landing on the ground. Perhaps Nicolas, his driver, was sorting out whatever had happened. Maybe there was a fox in the road.

But Raoul knew those footsteps were too quiet to be Nicolas'. It was as if the owner almost was skirting along the dirt, maybe billowing it up around his feet.

Raoul slunk back away from the window to the middle of the bench, his heart unsure whether to start pounding in his chest, or freeze like a stone.

The door to the carriage swung open to fast it almost swung all the way around and crashed against the outside wall.

A thing leg clad in a heavy black boot clacked against the wooden floor of the carriage. Then another one. And then a tall back mass slunk into the room, a great black cape billowing around him as he raised his arm to show the barrel of his gun. He had a black hat tipped against his head and an equally dark mask covering his entire face. There was something draping down the back of his hat that looked too odd to be hair. Fabric, that's what it was, an extra precaution to protect his identity?

He moved slowly, almost methodically, across the carriage. His long thin limbs cut darkness across the now moonlit full carriage as he craned his head around.

"Well, what do we have here?" The man had to bend considerably to fit through the doorway of the carriage, neck bending harshly against the ceiling as he towered over Raoul. "Such a pretty little thing all alone so late at night."

A gloved hand reached out and pressed itself harshly against Raoul's skin as a thumb griped his chin, index finger digging into the hollow of his cheek. Raoul could smell that the gloves were made of leather and the velvet voice that came from behind the dark mask made Raoul's heart finally decide it wanted to speed up.

"What are you then? Some little lord? Surely nothing more important with no one here to protect you-"

"A Vicomte, thank you very much. And I need no one's protection other than my own," Raoul was retorting before he could stop himself.

"Someone with some spirit. How... refreshing. Well, little Vicomte. What do you have for me?"

Raoul blinked up at him. Forgetting for a moment as the man withdrew his closeness what the man would want with him. He soon remembered how to move though as the man rolled his shoulder and his cape moved allowing the light of the moon streaming through the open door to catch against the silver of its cylinder. Raoul recognised the model of gun; A Chamelot-Delvigne 1873 revolver. It was the gun issued to all members of the French army, and back at home Raoul had hidden own slight variation of it from his time in the Navy.

If only he had brought it with him. Philippe had asked why he never carried it around with him and Raoul had said it was just a bit of a hassle to fit under his clothes. That had been a lie. Philippe would have called Raoul too sensitive and told him to grow up if he's replied with how his hands shook at the idea of having to hold that gun again.

Raoul slid his hands into the coat that was cast aside on his seat as the man sat down opposite him. He fumbled blindly to find his coat pocket, not wanting to take his eyes off the man, before finally clutching his coin pouch. The man seemed to perk up at the noise of the coins clinking together and quickly outstretched his hand. Raoul hesitated for a moment before dropped the coins into the stranger’s palm.

He watched as the man took the coins out, counting them and inspecting them.

"They're not fake coins," Raoul said, indignity.

"Oh forgive me," He could hear the man's smirk. "I didn't mean to offend your delicate pride." He chuckled and pouch vanished beneath his dark cloak.

"Anything else?" The man leaned forward, perching his elbows against his thighs.

"I'm not some pretty maiden with a neck full of pearls and jewels."

"Not a maiden no... But who knows what you'd look like draped in pearls."

"Must you tease me as well as steal from me?"

"It's hard not too when you flush so much. People either fear me or hate me, and yet you sit there talking back to me but making no attempt to stop me, with such a dusting of pink across your nose and cheeks."

Raoul didn't know how to respond to that. It surely couldn't be true and yet he could feel the heat on his face. Maybe it was just the excitement or adrenaline. Maybe he could make believe that it was, since it was unlikely he'd ever see this man again.

Oh god and what would be tell Philippe? He really didn't want an 'I told you do' talk when he arrived home. He could just not tell Philippe? And maybe he could convince Nicolas not to tell? They wouldn't want to worry Philippe, of course.

Lost in his worried thoughts, Raoul didn't notice how the man had gotten up.

"Wait, what's your name?" Raoul blurted out, causing the man to freeze, one of his feet already out of the door.

"Why," He snarled. "So you can try and report me?"

"I have would have very bad luck with that, considering I have no idea what you look like. I'm simply... curious."

"About my name?"

"About you."

The man blinked. Raoul could tell as the moonlight caught against the man's eyes as they tried to hide away with the mask, but they glowed almost golden. He looked all at once not like a fearsome thief, but a confused cat being offered a plate of milk as it sat shaking in an alleyway, pondering and pondering about what possible ulterior motive this could have.

"Erik," He said at last.

And before Raoul could respond the man hoped out of the carriage, shut the door behind and in mere seconds was riding back past the window in a flurry of shadow

-----

Nicolas had promised not to mention last week's unplanned stop to Philippe, worried that it might put him at risk of losing his job. But he hadn't been able to hide the fear from his eyes when Raoul asked them to go back down that road on his return from his next trip to the opera.

"But Monsieur what if he is there again? I've heard others talking. They call him The Phantom, for how he seemingly appears out of nowhere and disappears back into the night. They say his body is made of pure shadow."

"He won't harm you Nicolas, the worst he'll do is take my coin, and I have plenty of it to spare. I assure you he's just a mad made of flesh like you and I"

Nicolas had looked at him strangely, but knew Raoul well enough to not fruitlessly try to change his mind.

Raoul wondered if Erik would recognise the carriage. He'd seemed to have found Raoul strange, not that Raoul could blame him as he had been acting a little out of sorts but... he'd just been so intrigued, he couldn't explain it. But perhaps Raoul had embarrassed himself too much last time that Erik wouldn't approach them.

They were only half way down the road when Raoul felt the carriage come to a stop and his heart started beating harder in his chest.

The door opened delicately and Raoul's heart sank as he thought surely it must be Nicolas. But his vision was clouded in black and as the shape settled Raoul saw Erik's cape fall about his shoulders as he sank into the opposite bench.

He started at Raoul for so long Raoul wondered if he was being dared to speak first. Maybe Erik wanted him to explain himself. Well, he would have to wait then.

Eventually, which was really just a minute or so, Erik crossed his legs, annoyed and agitated.

"Why are you here again, little Vicomte?"

"Well," Raoul shifted in his seat. "I always prefer to take this route. It's more scenic. And it is technically a short-cut for me, so..."

"You forgot about me so quickly then," Erik said it with a tone of jest, but underneath Raoul sensed that thought it was true.

"No, of course I didn't forget you."

"Then why are you back here on my road? Did you think after one robbery I would let you pass a second time?"

"Actually I... What if I hoped that you would...?”

"That I would let you pass? Foolish boy-"

"No, I meant... I meant what if I hoped that you would show up. That we would meet again."

The black mask stared at him as two tiny pinpricks of gold vanished and returned.

"Why would you want that? Not taking pity on me, I hope. I'm not some sort of charity."

"Oh not at all. I have a feeling you wouldn't have any fun with that."

"What makes you think I'm having fun now?" Erik stood and lent over Raoul, his cape swinging down around them both.

"Well," Raoul's gaze flickered from between Erik's hand and his face. One of Erik's hands was pressing against the bench in the spot between his legs, his other hand supported against the wall next to Raoul's head.

"You haven't left yet," Raoul breathed out, as he remembered breathing was a thing he was supposed to be doing.

"I'm just waiting for my prize," Erik's voice was deep and Raoul swore he could feel hot breath from where Erik's mouth would be.

Oh god Raoul could feel himself swallow hard, hyper aware of where Erik's hand was and how close it was to his thigh even as Erik seemed to lean in closer. What prize was he talking about... For surely he couldn't mean...? He had called Raoul pretty last time, but that had surely been a jest? But he seemed to still be getting closer.

Raoul blinked as a jingling sound rang out at the side of his head. Oh. Right. The money. He could feel Erik's grin as Raoul shifted awkwardly, pulling on the bottom of his honey yellow waistcoat. His eyes shifted down.

"Your gloves have a hole in the thumb," Raoul said absentmindedly, eyes drawn to the pale skin peeking out from the dark leather.

Erik drew his hand back from the seat as though he was ashamed. "Erik tore it, he didn't mean to..." He muttered, voice becoming something almost childlike, as if he thought Raoul were scolding him. He seemed to realise it himself and his eyes flashed with anger.

"What is it to you anyway?" He hissed, yet still hiding his hand from Raoul's view.

"Nothing, I'm only..." Only what? Was he just curious? Or concerned?

Why was Erik reacting like that anyway? Raoul was only trying to be polite. Kind. Was that odd? He supposed in his line of work Erik wasn't used to kindness. The only people he interacted with would be those who he robbed and why would they show him kindness. So why was Raoul showing him kindness.

It was unexplainable. There was something about Erik that Raoul just felt drawn too. Perhaps that was unhealthy, for him to find the danger exciting. Erik had a gun for Christ's sake. How could he say he had a feeling Erik wouldn't use it.

How many other people had Erik shared his name with though? He had given it on their first meeting and yet... No one else seemed to know it. Maybe no one else had asked.

He thought to apologise, but for what? Erik's back was already turned.

"Good night, monsieur," Erik said before he hoped out of the carriage, back into the night.

-----

"What is it that you want from me?"

Erik stood in doorway of the carriage, one foot pressing inside and the rest of his body hunched and twisted to try and look at Raoul without having to actually come inside.

"Three weeks in a row, twice already I have robbed you, and yet you keep coming here?"

"Where else would I find you?" Raoul said with a look of ease but inside felt slight nerves.

A week had passed in agony. Every nightfall with the knowledge Erik was out here on this road had started to drive him mad. It was pure madness and nothing more. To be intrigued by this man, this Phantom, to desire him. With every evening Raoul felt it more and more and had to come to terms with the realisation that it was not some mere thrill of danger he felt in Erik's presence. There was no childhood boyish fantasy about meeting a highwayman, or evening joining him on an adventure. It was the reality of realising that less than romantic reality of Erik's tattered clothing, the thinness of his bones, the unfamiliarity with basic human kindness, paired with that mystery, those eyes, that voice which teased him so, that made Raoul's skin grow hot as he laid in his bed.

"Aren't you going to come inside?"

Erik lifted the weight off his foot that was inside the carriage, before pressing it back down. He rocked back and forth as he contemplated to himself, before planting himself across from Raoul.

An awkward silence filled the air as Erik shuffled among the seat.

Finally he turned his head and folded his arms over his chest. "So, what do you have for me?"

"The same as always," Raoul tossed his coin pouch at Erik. "Oh, and these."

He reached out his hand for Erik to take the items from him. Erik was cautious, as if somehow this could be a trap, before grabbing the edge of the fabric and sliding them out of Raoul's hand. They were turned over and back again as they were inspected.

"Gloves?"

"Yes, gloves," Raoul nervously bit on his lip. Why should he be feeling nervous?!

"These seem too large to fit you."

"Well, yes of course. They wouldn't make a very good gift for you if I bought them in my own size."

Raoul hadn't thought it possible the night could get any quieter, and yet...

Oh he wished he could see what Erik's face looked like behind his mask. His entire body had frozen on the spot, not even blinking. Was he shocked? Was he disgusted? Was there a flush across his cheeks? Raoul knew he could feel his own burning up the longer the silence progressed.

"A... gift?" Erik choked out.

"Yes, they're a gift, Erik. I noticed last time that yours had a hole in so I thought..."

"That you would bribe me away with fine leather gloves?"

"What? No, not at all. I just thought, well I just hoped that... you'd like them."

Erik squinted at him, and Raoul felt a little pleased at being able to make out some emotions Erik conveyed. He leaned over Raoul, slightly raising from his seat, as he seemed to be trying to wring out the truth from Raoul with just his glare, and then his eyes widened as if seeing and daring to believe Raoul was already telling him the truth.

He sat staring down at the gloves that hung limply over his hands. Raoul sucked in a breath and slowly, as if approaching a deer that might spook, took a couple of steps across the carriage and quietly as he could fell to his knees in between Erik's parted legs.

Erik didn't seem to realise he was there until Raoul tentatively reached up and brushed his hands against Erik's own. He tried to recoil but Raoul gripped his hands, stroking his thumbs against them until Erik seemed to calm down enough for Raoul to peel the aged and falling apart gloves off his hands.

As the leather peeled away Raoul stared at Erik's hands even as they twitched. Out of nervousness perhaps? That was... a little adorable. What a strange word to use to describe such a man. Raoul chuckled slightly to himself as he became distracted by running his thumb down the length of Erik's long, rather elegant looking fingers.

Clutching at the fabric of his trousers, Erik tried to pull away again. "You laugh at Erik's skin."

Raoul blinked in confusion. Was that something Erik was insecure about?

"If you must know, I was actually thinking they were quite beautiful. I only laughed at my own oxymoron of thinking of your demeanour now as almost adorable contrasted with your usual imposing one."

He looked down again at Erik's hands again as he once again felt Erik's eyes staring at him with such confusion. As Erik slowly unclenched his hands, Raoul could now see harsh lines of scars that began at the backs of Erik's knuckles and disappeared up his sleeves. Of course... no one with a happy upbringing would probably find themselves in this line of work. But then Raoul thought of the high collar, the mask... Was all of Erik's skin covered in such scars?

Raoul took the new gloves he had bought, something of far better quality than Erik could ever afford, and slid them up Erik's fingers. He did the same with the other hand, not before indulging himself and placing a kiss to the back of Erik's hand, his pink lips plush and soft against the hard and cold skin.

He looked up and felt as though Erik's eyes were burning into him. The second glove slid up Erik's hand and Raoul maintained eye contact as Erik's fingers twitched and caught against his chin.

"I hope they're comfortable," Raoul's voice was quiet, not wanting to shatter the moment.

The leather crinkled as Erik flexed his fingers, screwing them up into fists and then straightening them out again. Raoul wanted to say something more, he wasn't sure what, but he wanted to open his mouth to speak again but the words lost themselves as the carriage suddenly rocked to the side and the moment was gone.

"Cesar, no," Erik made to get up.

Raoul had the dreadful shameful feeling that they'd been caught by some companion of Erik's. But as he turned around he heard a strong puff of breath and the carriage rocked as a beautiful white horse rocked into the carriage, his head already peering through the door. Erik fussed over the stallion, shooing him outside and seemingly giving him a stern talking too.

Trailing behind them into the cold night air, Raoul stared at this strange tall skeleton of a man draped in nothing but black talking to horse or pure white as though it was a badly behaving dog.

Both of them turned to Raoul as he started laughing at the absurdity of it all.

Erik seemed almost flustered as he brushed down his cloak and fiddled with his hat. Outside the carriage was only slightly brighter, but Raoul could make out a little more clearly the layers of cape and coat and waistcoat,. He could see the line where Erik's boots laid against his trousers just below the knee. He could see how the mask wasn't some cheap piece of cloth and was something sculpted as it sat neatly against Erik's face. Had Erik made it himself?

"Doesn't a bright white horse make you stand out a little?"

"It wasn't really ever in my plan," Erik huffed. "But Cesar is a good boy. Loyal. And his previous owners were not too kind to him. I suppose I saw some of myself in him."

Erik's voice trailed off somewhere farther away as he seemed to forget himself, then he quickly and effortlessly pulled himself atop Cesar.

"Good night. Your home is not too far away, no? You might be lucky enough to get back before the rain starts."

"You didn't follow me home one night, did you?" Raoul laughed and then stopped as Erik turned his head. "Erik?"

The cape nearly hit Raoul in the face as Erik swung up onto Cesar. "Good night, Vicomte de Chagny. Safe travels."

The bastard had the audacity to tip his hat before he rode away.

-----

"I wonder what your driver must think. The young Vicomte de Chagny fraternizing with a common thief. Surely someone is wondering what is taking you so long to get back home?" Erik said as he stretched his legs out, seemingly content to start treating the carriage like a sitting room.

"Nicolas wouldn't tell anyone. And if he had the inkling too, I can appease him as I appease you."

"Is that what you do? Make a habit of paying people to get what you want."

"Of course not," Raoul snapped. "If I were to slip him an increase in his wages it would only be to protect the both of us from any scandal."

Erik sat up straighter. "I meant no offence... How strange you are, little Count, to think you must protect me from others and not the other way around."

"My name is Raoul," Choosing to avoid answering Erik's probing statement as he didn't really want to think of the moral implications of any of this, Raoul blurted out something he'd been mulling over for a while. "You knew though, probably, I mean you already figured out who I was so... But I just meant that, well, you can call me Raoul. I always call you Erik."

"I didn't give you any other name."

"Something tells me perhaps you only have the one."

"Something did?" Erik perched his elbows on his legs and lent forwards to rest his chin on his hands. "So there is some perception going on in there. What exactly makes you think that?"

Raoul felt all of a sudden embarrassed. "I don't rightly know... And I don't mean to offend, I just... You seem not like someone who doesn't have a home, but perhaps someone who has never had one. And orphans don't usually have surnames."

"You could not offend me."

"You say that as if you aren't easily offend."

"Oh, unlike you?"

Letting his back hit against the wall, Raoul conceded. "Will you tell me if I was right?"

Erik shifted his in his seat, his fingers on one hand rubbing up at down the other's knuckles. "I was not an orphan."

"Oh?" Raoul wasn't going to be surprised if he had been wrong about everything. He was very well versed with people from lower classes so everything he said could have been wrong. It was mostly ideas drawn from lone wanderers from tales he had heard growing up, granted they were works of fiction.

"But," Erik continued. "You can take some pride in thinking I'd never had a home. I'd at least never been in a place that felt like one."

Oh well... Pride wasn't really what Raoul was feeling now. He thought if he worked things out about Erik, or Erik began to like or trust him enough to tell him, that he would feel joyful. But he supposed the reality of growing up alone, or at least feeling alone, wasn't something that should be romanticised.

Erik seemed to not know what to do with himself as he kept shifting and when he coughed Raoul thought he was going to ask for Raoul's money, but he simply went quiet again.

"You don't have to sit over there, you know," Raoul's heart fluttered in his chest. This was it. He was going to find out Erik's true intentions. "There's plenty of room on this bench."

"And this one is equally comfortable."

"Oh the great Phantom of the roads, afraid to sit next to me."

"I'm not afraid," Erik snarled.

"No?" Raoul raised an eyebrow up and smiled cheekily, a smile that only widened as Erik got up and grumbled under his breath.

"Insistent boy. I have half the mind you'll be the death of me," Flicking his cape up so it did not get as caught up underneath him, Erik sat next to Raoul with a huff.

"Oh, how so?" Raoul turned, sliding a little to close some of the distance between them and hoping Erik wouldn't notice.

"You keep letting yourself get robbed so often, people will think you're an easy target."

"Well then people will have the misfortune of finding out quite the opposite."

Erik laughed. "Oh will you fight them away with your feistiness, my little Vicomte."

"I'll have you know I was in the navy," Raoul puffed out his chest and squared his shoulders. "I could take a robber or two if I had the mind too."

There was silence as Erik started at him.

"Then why haven't you?" He asked, his voice soft all of a sudden.

"Why haven't I what?" Raoul furrowed his brow.

"Had the mind too."

Raoul's mouth went dry. Erik seemed impossibly close and he wasn't sure when or if either of them had started sliding down the seat.

He wondered then what it would feel like to have those leather clad hands pining his own wrists against the wall behind him. What it would feel like to have a leg shoved between his own, as Erik bore his weight down on him. Maybe both of his wrists would be captured in but one hand, long fingers grasping him like a rope, as Erik would grab his chin and tilt it upwards to claim his mouth. Would he have to tell Raoul to be quiet less his driver hear them? He wouldn't want a scandal, would he? He'd let himself fall open on the seating as Erik would remain swathed in black, undressing him and claiming another prize for himself.

Or would Erik let himself be pushed back. Raoul thought about the previous week as he had knelt between Erik's legs to put his gloves on and how Erik had seemed so unused to the touch. Would he let Raoul guide him backwards, limbs tangling in the small space, as he let someone take him apart for the first time? Had anyone ever touched Erik in that way?

He reached out, mind running with scenarios, and traced his hand over Erik's, giving him the opportunity to turn away. But Erik stood still as a statue. Raoul grew bolder, his fingers skimming along Erik's shoulders, until they reached under his jaw and slid under the edge of his mask.

That seemed to snap Erik out of the moment as his hands were suddenly around Raoul's wrists, squeezing painfully like a vice.

But Raoul did not want to give up. Erik's panic only fuelled Raoul's curiosity. He seemed far too fearful to be solely worried about his identity being discovered. Raoul thought back on the scars he'd seen along Erik's hands.

"I won't be scared," Raoul whispered, his fingers tracing lightly against the dry skin he'd managed to find.

"You will be horrified," Erik's voice echoed against the mask now longer pressing taut against his mouth.

"Then, just a little..." Raoul pressed still, half expecting to be thrown across the carriage, but half not caring. If Erik would give him this little leeway.

He pressed the mask up just enough to see Erik's mouth, stopping as he saw what would had had to be the start of Erik's nostrils, but Raoul saw no dip of flesh between them. He let his hands rest of the mask there, simply holding it up but not pushing it, until Erik realised Raoul meant that he would reveal no more of his face. The grip on his wrists loosened, but the hands did not leave, for they could not trust Raoul to keep his word.

Raoul traced his thumbs up the pale skin of Erik's sunken cheeks, they were hollowed out and yet Raoul could sense the strong cheekbones above. His skin was dry and cold, not soft but not rough either. His thumbs drew closer together as he found paper thin lips set in a hard line, but they trembled as Raoul touched them.

Having found his mark in the darkness of the carriage, Raoul slide his hands back against Erik's cheeks, brushing against the fabric that was drawn down over his ears. The skin around the back of Erik's head was smooth, the only hair catching on Raoul's nails being nothing but tiny wisps.

Erik gasped as Raoul kissed him, as if with Raoul so close he still didn't expect it would happen. Raoul was suddenly struck with the question of whether Erik had ever been kissed before and the idea of this being his first made Raoul want to make it all the more enjoyable. His hands slid against Erik's skin as he moved his lips slowly, parting them for a second before kissing Erik again. And then again. And again and he wanted to keep going but felt that Erik's hands had slipped from grabbing his wrists to clutching at the fabric of his sleeves as his whole body shook.

"Erik, I'm sorry, was that..." Raoul panted as withdrew. "Was that alright?"

He could see Erik's chest heaving and Raoul's hands pulled themselves back forwards and couldn't resist a final slide across Erik's lips, now slightly slick and wet.

His fingers pressed down despite trying to have some self-control and Erik jumped, head almost knocking against the ceiling, as he scrambled to pull his mask back down so quickly that Raoul's' hands were almost trapped underneath it, oh to be forever trapped between parted lips and porcelain.

"Erik, wait-"

But Erik had already pushed himself away and flung himself out of the carriage and as Cesar's white hide flashed past him Raoul felt the weight of his coins safely nestled in his pocket.

-----

The road was quiet as always and Raoul's heart pounded over and over and over again in his chest. It was as though the sound of it was the only thing he could hear. It seemed to rise and fall as the carriage finally turned onto the road, but as they got further and further down it... Raoul's heart only sank lower and lower.

Had he scared Erik off? He'd kissed Raoul back so... He wanted Raoul too, hadn't he? Wouldn't Erik be pleased to see him again?

But he had also run off right afterwards. Was he ashamed? But Raoul could give him so much. He could give Erik safety and security. Wouldn't Erik want that? He wouldn't have to stalk about in the cold and the rain. Or they could continue this? Whatever this was? Raoul only knew that he hadn't wanted to see anyone else this badly before.

They were past the middle of the road now, and there was still no sign of Erik. The night air seemed dead and stale as the wind blew shadows of gnarled fingers across Raoul's cheeks. Raoul didn't know what to do. They'd be at the end of the road soon, leaving Erik's domain, and he didn't know what to do.

He could just shout out of the window and ask Nicolas to stop... But he was already counting on Nicolas for his trust with enough of these visits. If he did that, how long should he wait? How embarrassing would it be if he stopped and Erik was out there just standing and laughing at how pathetic he looked and never approached the carriage at all?

Raoul pressed his hands against the window, peering out at the nothingness. And he said nothing, letting Nicolas take the carriage straight home.

-----

Raoul stayed up tossing and turning, before giving up on trying to sleep at all. He couldn't stop thinking if he'd made a terrible prideful mistake. He was so worried about what Nicolas would think, and what Erik would think, that he'd just let Nicolas drive on. What if Erik had been somewhere else and hadn't shown up yet? What if he'd thought Raoul just hadn't shown up?

Though what kept his stomach twisting was the idea that he'd read everything completely wrong and that Erik wasn't interested in him at all.

Pale sheets slid of his body as Raoul's feet padded against the cold floor so he could fetch his dressing gown. The deep maroon fabric kept him warm as he opened the doors to the small balcony window and let the wind chill his bones. He wondered if he should pick up smoking like his brother as he imagined doing anything other than just standing staring at the moon. Not that it wasn't a beautiful sight. But it wasn't going to bring him any comfort.

Sighing with resignation, Raoul shut the doors behind him and flopped down onto his bed. He'd not closed the curtains to the balcony, letting the moon shine down on his face. The light might keep him awake, but it wasn't as though Raoul thought he'd get much sleep now anyway. He closed his eyes and wondered if he could imagine being laid back against the seat in his carriage, the moonlight flickering in and out of view from behind his eyelids.

That... was only meant to be in his imagination though.

His entire body tensed as he realised he couldn't see the moonlight anymore.

He tried to keep his breathing as quiet and slow and consistent as possible as he started to slid up to his elbows. He knew if it was some burglar it was safer to act like he was asleep. But what would be the chances of a random burglar picking his bedroom window of all of them. Hadn't Erik followed him home one night? Had he followed him again and watched Raoul come to bed after they'd kissed?

As slowly as he could he turned his head to the side and opened his eyes.

Behind the glass doors was a tall shadow, a silhouette that was unmistakable with its long cape and hat. Raoul turned and sat on the edge of the bed, not breaking eye contact with where he was guessing Erik's face was.

The shadow didn't move. But neither did Raoul. No, Erik needed to be the one to decide here, Raoul was not going to chase him. There was... perhaps... the chance that Erik was here to kill him... That... hadn't even been anything he'd slightly considered. For all he knew Erik had killed before. And if he felt like he'd let Raoul see too much of himself, then Raoul was a threat to his secrecy.

Wood screeched as the balcony doors were slowly pushed open. It was like an ink etching from one of those books, this pure black shape standing out there as the curtains billowed out as the doors opened, the moonlight behind everything... Raoul held his breath.

"Why did you come back again?" Erik's voice seemed to rumble.

"So you were there!" Raoul shot to his feet. "Then why didn't you come over?"

"You answer my questions first, little Vicomte," Erik stalked a couple of steps towards him. Raoul swallowed as he realised the two of them had never been stood this close, only sat, and it allowed him to take in Erik's height more as he looked up at him.

"Why wouldn't I have? I wanted to see you."

"Why?"

"Erik, for God's sake I kissed you," Raoul hissed the words out as he noticed himself getting louder. "Why would any man do that to someone?"

"Maybe you thought it could spare your purse forever more. Maybe you thought it would make me soft you."

Raoul closed all the distance between them, almost stepping on Erik's toes.

"Aren't you already?"

Erik didn't reply and Raoul wanted to keep pressing.

"Aren't you, Erik? Erik? How many people have you shared that name with? How many people have you let get that close to you? How many people have you let have any slight peak under that mask?" Raoul's hands came up and hovered by the sides of Erik's face and watched as he flinched. "You want me."

"You're a vain, foolish little boy," Erik's voice slid out of his teeth as Raoul pushed the mask up once more, until he snapped, pushing Raoul's arms out of the way and tearing the mask of himself. His hat went fluttering to the floor.

Raoul gasped as he stared at Erik's face, but he steeled himself not to look away. His cheeks were not the only part of his face sunken in. His cheekbones and his temples stuck out, and down under his brow bone Raoul could barely tell where Erik's eye sockets started. Those eyes that had seemed black with pinpricks of yellow, were really a deep brown. Quite a pretty colour. But his skin was so dry it almost looked as though it had been sucked tight against his bones, and his nose... Or whatever was left of it. A little way down from between his eyes his face just seemed to opened up onto this hole that stopped where ones nostrils would. His mouth Raoul had already made himself quite familiar with.

"Is this what you wanted to see?!" Erik tried to shout out the words but with Raoul still gazing up at him they seemed to get stuck in his throat. "You can now say that curiosity of yours is satisfied and leave me be."

"No!" Raoul gripped his hands down without thinking, right against Erik's cheeks.

"No? Did you want a closer look?" Erik snarled, his hands starting to make fists in Raoul's dressing gown.

"My curiosity isn't satiated. Erik I... Won't pretend this isn't... shocking..."

That was a little bit of an understatement. Raoul had suspected something was wrong with Erik's face, though he'd thought scaring at worst. This was... Raoul didn't even know how to describe it... And yet he couldn't take his eyes of Erik. Was there something wrong with him to find something handsome in that face, even still? And it didn't change who Erik was.

"It... will take some getting used to," Raoul said. "But it's just a face. And a face that happens to be on a man I'm very interested in."

Erik gazed down at him, the hands clutching Raoul's robe were trembling. "Even still?"

He said it as if he dared not hope. But the fact that he'd said it at all, rather than shoot Raoul down with another insult or scream... That was progress.

"Even still."

Raoul pulled Erik's face down against him and as he kissed Erik again he felt Erik's tears sliding against their cheeks and he pulled Erik harder against him, slowly giving him the confidence to explore Raoul back. And slowly but surely, Erik's hands unclenched themselves and began to move and slide around Raoul's waist, brushing over his hips, until Erik's lips moves and pressed harder against him and Raoul felt himself tipping as Erik pushed him down onto the bed and knelt over him, their lips still connected.

He didn't know what they parted, but they had too eventually, less they suffocate one another. Raoul breathed out a laugh as he pulled himself up his bed, trying to aim his head to land on his pillows, and groaning as Erik just let himself go boneless on top of him. For such a slim man, he still had a fair bit of weight to him.

But he let Erik lie there, afraid that if he were to disturb Erik this would all shatter. That Erik would fly out off the balcony, into the night, and never to be seen again.

So he let Erik lay there, bony hips pressing awkwardly against Raoul's thigh, until Erik felt comfortable to say something.

"You should leave your driver behind next time."

Raoul laughed and shook his head.

"Ah and already so sure they'll be a next time. What should I do? Will the horses to go the right way with the power of my mind?" He mockingly pressed his fingers against his temples and Erik huffed, lightly slapping at his hands.

"You do know how to ride, don't you?"

Raoul sat up. "You expect me to ride out all that way on my own?"

"I'll protect you."

The words ran up Raoul's spine with a pleasant shiver.

"Well, at sweet as that is and as thrilled as those words make me, it doesn't change the fact you wouldn't be with the whole time. I'm not wishing for anyone else to start robbing me," Raoul paused and lent back against the headboard. "Though... You are right. I can't exactly keep making Nicolas an accomplice to this... Whatever this is... And I don't know how much longer he'll want to keep his mouth shut. Although, you know what?"

Erik rolled so that his stomach was pressing down over Raoul's outstretched leg. "What?" He asked, already sounding pessimistic.

"Well I have been making Nicolas stay out awfully long hours, it's not very fair to him. He can drive me around all day as much as he pleased, but perhaps... Well for the sake of not overworking the man, perhaps I could employ a new driver? Just for very late evening appointments?"

Sliding up to his knees, Erik's eyes blinked at him. "Would this new driver be paid?"

"Oh, quite handsomely. Though I would hope, there'd be other things he found enticing about the position rather than just the coin?" Raoul couldn't help the slight hint of a question leak out in his voice.

"My little Vicomte," Erik slid up his body, black fabric pooling everywhere and sinking against Raoul's cream bedspread. "It has not been just about the coin since you asked me my name."

And Raoul let himself sink into the bed with all that fabric, as he tried to the ties that kept it all together.

"You know this does not mean Erik is quitting his regular job?" Erik panted between their mouths.

Raoul grinned, knowing it was wrong. "Well, I always did fancy someone stealing my heart."

[persephonesinfernos]

constellations | part two.

summary: there are only 88 officially recognized constellations, a small number considering you and your soulmate would have the exact same constellation on your skin. how can be sure if it was really them with so few of them? you could mistake your soulmate. 

word count: 1225.

pairing: bucky barnes x reader.

constellations masterlist | masterlist

The alarm of your phone went off at 6:00 am waking you up as a slightly burn was felt all over your upper body. Nerves, stress, anxiety. You took a deep breath as you got up from the bed, a shower was much more needed after your non-study night due to Erik.

When you finished your shower, Erik has already left for his dorm leaving you a plate of pancakes with a note saying “Go get them girl, love you”. You smiled as a blush covered your cheeks, Erik was one of the best things that had happened to you and you couldn’t be more delightful to share your life with him.

You went back to your room to prepare for the interview, more like a trial from what your professor has told you and not knowing what you were against to was making you bloody nervous. The burning sensation on your skin was only getting stronger and a bad feeling started to bubble on your chest.

The room was filled with people from your college, some of them you knew and others you did not. You let out a sigh and went to sit next to one of your classmates from your Criminal Psychology class, he seemed serene as opposed to you and you couldn’t help to wonder how he was keeping this calm façade.

Some minutes passed and nothing was happening, the burning sensation on your skin became an itching sensation and you didn’t notice how your fingers started scratching your ribs almost obsessively.

Your professor and a dark-haired woman entered the room, making all of you quiet and to stand still. “This is Miss Hill, she will be guiding you through this test for the internship.” Professor Stewart said looking to all of you.

“Thank you, Professor Stewart, I can get it from here.” She smiled thankfully to your professor. “Well candidates, my name is Maria Hill and I will be the one to decide whether you are or are not the best fit for what my agency wants. As you know, we haven’t given you much insight at the requisites for landing the job, but that it is because we want to know how you react to unexpected events while working on a case, your reactions times, how quickly can you make a decision based on the data that’s placed on the table.”

Fuck it, you were not ready for this and you needed to get the hell out of here before you embarrassed yourself in front of your colleges. Panic was rushing through your veins and your fingers were scratching your side so violently that if someone saw you, they would think that you needed to get to a psychiatrist for obsessive behaviour.

Before you could get up to leave the room Maria Hill said your name, you were the first one to start the test. Of course, you were, just your luck. Now you couldn’t back off, so you just closed your eyes for a sec trying to calm yourself and followed Hill to an adjacent room.

Three hours later you were returning home, the test was hard enough to mess with your perception of the world. You knew bad things, horrible things were happening around you every day and those had been happening since the beginning of humanity but you lived in a secure place and now you began to doubt your major. Were you really the type of person to live and work in such a dark world? Were you strong enough?

When you arrived home you stripped all of your clothes to change into something comfier and then you noticed all the redness on your ribs. Running you were to the bathroom to take a better look, a warm sensation coursing through your fingers, something you haven’t felt since you learn about the soulmate thing.

There it was, a constellation of freckles on your ribs, something you just assumed would never see or feel. But when did it happen? When did it form completely? You haven’t felt the burning sensation neither your skin has glowed.

Shaking off this last thought, you opened your laptop and searched for the constellation name. You were edgy to know more about it. “Antlia, the Air Pump”, a faint constellation but all the stars that formed the constellation shared a common envelope meaning that there were so close that one day they will merge to form a single star.

As you opened another tab to investigate more about the constellation someone knocked on your door, Erik. You opened the door, he seemed in shock but you couldn’t think much about it as he hugged you tightly. “I know I should ask you about the test, but something happened this morning. I felt it (Y/N), look.”

Your boyfriend unbuttoned his shirt, showing his biceps as your eyes widened. A freckle constellation, so similar to yours, it was the Antlia. It all makes sense to you now, but why it didn’t happen the first time you two met? Why now? It didn’t matter, Erik was your soulmate.

You lifted up your shirt, showing him your own constellation earning a deep and heartfelt laugh from him as his hands cupped your face. “I knew it, I knew the first time I met you that it was you. Gosh (Y/N), I love you so much”. He said with teary eyes as he kissed you passionately.

A few days had passed since Erik revealed that Antlia was on his skin too, but something didn’t seem right. You couldn’t think of what, but definitely, something was off about that revelation. Well, at least for you. He was so over the moon, always next to you as if you were a possession, something that has never happened before. Maybe it was because you were soulmates.

Because you were, right? Gosh, your mind wouldn’t stop nagging you about it, about this change of behaviour but you did nothing. Your boyfriend was happy, incredibly happy about and bothering him with your thoughts was not the best idea.

A phone call snapped you out of your feelings, you didn’t know the number but a small smile appeared in your face. “Hello? Yeah, this is her” You answer.

Maria Hill welcomed you as you stepped in your professor’s office, this place was going to hold the meeting but no one was there yet except for Hill and yourself. Oddly enough you were calm, your mind was at ease as the clock was ticking and your future team members were nowhere to be seen.

Then, someone came in. “Rogers, you’re late.” Hill said.

“I know and I am sorry but Sam and Bucky…” He said apologetically. “You must be (Y/N), pleasure to meet you. Your trial test was one the brightest I’ve ever seen, amazing future ahead of yours.” He smiled at you as you shook hands.

Then something happened, as the door was opening for the second time today you felt it. An air pump that left you cold followed almost immediately by a burning sensation that started on your belly to spread to every inch of your body and finally you felt as the skin on your ribs was glowing as you looked down to your body ‘cause you felt yourself ignite.

After that all became dark.