#IN SECRET might i add because …… if any of our soldiers saw us it would be over (we fail miserably. the general and the captain having the

[vultursvolans]

was feeling low energy earlier but then i thought about the first date with jiyan and how funny and mildly awkward it was because the series of events leading up to it were out of order

[soulmate-game]

Daughter of wonderwoman au where marinette finds out her mother is actually Diana and somehow it ends up with her meeting/being introduced to the batfam maybe because she has super strength and is seen yeeting some bad guys who tried to mug her... Or something.

“... you are running from your problems, Mari,” Adrien’s exasperated voice reminded his best friend. Again. She ignored him, and he threw his hands up in exasperation. “Look, you don’t have to do anything about it! Nobody would hold it against you if you decided to just, ignore that you found anything out at all. But you need to actually think about what we just found out and decide whether or not you’re gonna do anything—“ he side-stepped a piece of trash that went flying in his direction. “—or if you’re gonna move on and pretend nothing happened.”

“Isn’t that what I’m doing?” Marinette shot back, pushing her bangs out of her face and tying her hair back with one hand.

“No, you’re currently hiding away in Gotham to avoid your parents while you beat up every random group of idiots who thinks you’re an easy mark,” he retorted. Another wannabe kidnapper went flying in his direction, making him sigh and side step again. She had thrown that one with only her one free hand, showing just how upset she was. “You’re ignoring everything in your life, which is not what we meant we said you should get a little space.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Marinette dropkicked the last criminal into unconsciousness before stepping back and putting her hands on her hips. She looked over at the now seven passed out men in the alleyway, and the one very frustrated ex-model pinching the bride of his nose. “I think I’m coping just fine.”

“It’s better than being forced to suppress all of your emotions, sure,” Adrien reluctantly agreed. “But not by much. Your angry rampage through Gotham has already attracted more attention,” he raised his hand to point at a nearby rooftop. Several shadows lurked there, looming over the building’s edge. “Which, might I add, is exactly why I told you not to come to Gotham.”

“You’re the one who followed me here,” she shot back before turning to the shadowy figures above them. “Go ahead and come down! But it was self defense, and you can’t arrest or beat me up for defending myself!”

The first figure to drop down straightened your just as quickly, revealing the imposing figure of none other than Batman himself. The little white eyes on his cowl seemed to narrow on their own as he looked down at her.

“That might be true, but I’m sure you know my policy on metas in my city,” he grumbled back at her. He wasn’t necessarily threatening, but he definitely wasn’t welcoming either. With all of his limbs hidden behind the cocoon that was his cape, Marinette would never be able to predict his next move if he did decide to fight. Not that she seemed particularly worried about that as she crossed her arms over her chest and met his glare evenly.

“Oh, do you own this city now? I wasn’t given the memo,” she retorted. “And considering I didn’t even know I was a meta until last week? I think I deserve a little slack. I’m angry and if people think the tiny little girl in pink is an easy kidnapping target, then it’s their fault for making themselves into the perfect practice dummies for me to try out my newly discovered strength on.”

Adrien saw the eyes on Batman’s mask narrow even further. Marinette wasn’t exactly at her most charismatic at the moment, and Adrien didn’t wanna get the both of them into a bad relationship with the experienced superhero who always seemed to know things he shouldn’t know. So he stepped up quickly, getting in between Marinette and the Bat and holding his hands up in a placating gesture.

“Okay, Monsieur Batman,” Adrien started slowly, making sure his posture was impeccable and his smile bright. “She’s telling the truth, even if she’s not... the most tactful about it right now. She just found out some very concerning things about her origin and Gotham is the best place for her to hide from her problems and let loose a little pent up aggression. But— well,” he grimaced. “We didn’t intend to run into you guys, but maybe it’s a good thing we did.”

“How so?” Batman was clearly still incredibly suspicious of the both of them and wasn’t giving an inch. So Marinette rolled her eyes (she was still very moody) and leaned around Adrien so she could get a good look at the monochromatic hero.

“I thank my lucky spots that we ran into you, Batman!” She said monotonously. “Me and Adrien are paw-sitively excited at this opportunity.”

Batman. Froze.

Not only were those two lines the very first lines ever spoken to him by two foreign heroes a few years ago (with a few key words changed to protect identities), but they had become their code phrase for whenever they made calls to one another outside of their costumes. All at once it seemed to hit him— the golden hair and bright green eyes on the boy, the blue-black hair and normally super-focused bluebell eyes on the girl that were currently sporting very uncharacteristic frustration. Their heights. Their builds. All of this info flowed through his mind and compared to the information stored in his memory, and it only took the span of two seconds for everything to click.

Suddenly Batman was at full attention, back straight instead of looming over them and eyebrows clearly raised high under his cowl.

He knew Chat Noir and Ladybug would never take a random vacation to Gotham. Ladybug herself had nearly waxed poetic about how much the city depressed her just from the pictures she saw online. If she had willingly come to visit, it was more than to just blow off some steam.

“Batcave?” He asked, earning a relieved look from Adrien and a moody silence from Marinette.

“Please,” Adrien agreed. “You can probably help us, actually.”

—*—*—*—*—*

Marinette leaned back in the metal debriefing chair, legs up on the table and looking for all the world as the picture of pure teenage rebellion and angst. Coincidentally, Red Hood was in the exact same position in the chair next to her.

Batman and all of his other bats and birds were in the cave with the two off-duty Parisian heroes. Everyone except Adrien and Marinette still had their masks on, since the two Parisians were still not privy to their identities. Yet.

To be fair, the bats hadn’t known the identities of the two miraculous users either before today.

“Cha Noir,” Batman started, only to get a head shake from the blond boy.

“Just call me Adrien. Chat’s out of the bag—“ he ignored the groans at the pun and soldiered on, “—so might as well use my real name.”

Batman nodded. “Adrien, then,” he amended. “Why are you and Ladybug really in Gotham?”

Adrien sighed. “I wasn’t lying, before. Marinette,” he gestured to his hero partner. “Just found out some distressing family news. Since HawkMoth is gone, she doesn’t need to repress her negative emotions anymore. But she also didn’t want to be around her parents while she processed everything. I told her to choose any other city— really, I begged— but she insisted on coming to Gotham.”

“The never ending cloud cover and constant rain seem thematic,” she finally spoke up, reaching into her big over-the-shoulder bag and pulling out a large envelope. She threw it to Batman, making the thin package slice through the air like a knife. To nobody’s surprise the seasoned hero easily caught the projectile between two fingers. He looked at the envelope and back to Marinette, silent questions floating in the air between them. Marinette decided to answer at her own pace.

“That’s what we found out. You see, one of my friends is a huge science nerd. A genius. And he wanted to compare DNA samples between us to see if there were any genetic components that determined a person’s suitability towards certain Miraculous or other magical artifacts over others. It was supposed to just be a fun side project that he didn’t expect any breakthroughs on. He mostly just wanted to satisfy his own curiosity. But instead of finding out if our DNA was linked to the miraculous, he found out that my parents are not biologically my parents.”

“Hence the whole just finding out that you’re a meta thing, right?” Nightwing spoke up, fully invested in the story. “Did they never say you were adopted before?”

“It’s not in the system,” she replied easily. “My parents have all the documentation to prove that I’m their biological child, except I’m not. When I confronted them about it, they caved and admitted that they had adopted me in secret and covered it up. Apparently a friend of theirs was involved in something illegal, and,” she waved at the envelope that Batman was now opening. “The details of what we were able to dig up are in there. The summary is this; their friend was part of a secret, illegal experimentation to create clones that could defeat the Justice League—“ the air seemed to get sucked out of the room as soon as those words left Marinette’s mouth. Everyone seemed to know exactly what she was talking about. “—a group called CADMUS. They made me, as apparently one of their early attempts. But I didn’t exhibit any of the powers they were looking for, or any meta traits at all, and my body refused to mature at the rate they wanted. They had no use for a seemingly normal human baby that they managed to clone, so they were preparing to kill me and start over. That’s when my parent’s friend stole me, not wanting to kill an infant, and begged my parents to take me in and pretend I was theirs. Low and behold, it turns out that my DNA just needed a very specific series of emotions to unlock it’s latent abilities.”

“Those emotions being..?” Red hood trailed off, earning a wolfish smile from Marinette.

“Intense anger, betrayal, and confused frustration closely followed by the desire to punch other people’s faces in.”

“That last one is just an assumption,” Adrien chimed in. “And maybe not accurate. But the first three, our scientist friend was able to confirm. The rapid experience of a lot of negative but action-oriented emotions released whatever had been holding back the powers in her DNA from expressing themselves,” he had switched to French so that he could explain everything exactly as Max had told it to them, but he knew all of them were fluent anyway so it was fine. They nodded along, processing the information.

The crinkling of paper drew everyone’s attention back to Batman, who had been flipping through the detailed break down of everything they had found about Marinette’s situation and how she was made by CADMUS.

“Uh,” Red Robin nervously spoke up. “What’s up, Batman?”

“Your genetic donors...” Batman breathed, getting a wink and finger guns from Marinette.

“Yup. Isn’t that just the most fucked up thing you’ve ever seen? They were clearly trying to make someone who could destroy the world.”

“That makes me nervous,” Nightwing admitted, getting up and going to get a look at the papers himself. “It can’t be that ba—“

When even Nightwing was left agape, everyone else who wasn’t in on it found themselves squirming.

“Just tell the rest of us, already!” Robin demanded after the silence stretched just a bit too long.

“The unknowing genetic donors that CADMUS used to make me,” Marinette spoke up, still with her legs up on the table. “Are a very mad-scientist’s-wet-dream combination of Lex Luthor, Bruce Wayne, and Wonder Woman.”

“We don’t even know why they added Bruce Wayne’s DNA,” Adrien admitted. “Although our scientist friend thinks it’s because of physique. His hypothesis is that, in order to support the genes of Wonder Woman, they had to add male genetics that could support the production of a very high muscle mass and would lean towards easy development of a very athletic body. Lex might be evil-scientist smart, but he’s a string bean. But if he added the DNA of another multi millionaire who just so happens to maintain a ridiculously fit body without putting any obvious work into it,” Adrien shrugged. “Then maybe the clone would be able to support Wonder Woman’s genetics and that of two human donors without falling apart.”

“So I’m ‘the clone’ now, huh?” Marinette snarked, earning an exasperated eye roll from her friend.

Batman just stared at the both of them for a moment. He walked away without a word, and came back with a fresh needle and a box. He placed it on the debriefing table.

“Can I do a paternity test myself?” He asked, his voice suspiciously less gruff than normal. “I trust the both of you, but I rather be safe than sorry with something like this.”

The both of them just stared at him in confusion. They traded a glance, and finally Marinette shrugged and moved to sit in her chair properly. Her shirt was already short sleeved, so she just held her arm out so Batman could easily get a blood sample.

“Sure, why not. But do you just have Lex Luthor or Bruce Wayne’s DNA sitting around to compare, or—“ she shut up when she watched Batman take off his glove and roll his own sleeve up. Realization slowly sunk in as he asked Nightwing to take a blood sample from him.

“Holy shit,” she breathed, eyes wide. “You’re— and Luthor doesn’t know— holy shit this is even worse than I thought,” Marinette rambled, not even noticing as Red Hood moved forward and took a small blood sample from her.

Adrien put a hand over his face and just laughed for a moment hysterically. “Oh my god,” he looked over at Marinette. “You could take over the world.”

“I have the blood of Batman AND Wonder Woman on MY side,” Marinette joked back, also hysterical.

When the bat’s high tech equipment was able to come back with a positive result only a few minutes later, Marinette and Adrien had to sit on the floor and just let it all sink in. Which Batman did not at all help by immediately unmasking himself and trying to make a proper introduction.

“I wanna go beat up random thugs again,” Marinette whined, pulling at her hair. “I’ll put on a mask, whatever, but just please let me punch people. I need to punch people right now.”

[watchmegetobsessed]

Hey Daddy - Bucky Barnes

a/n: so this one is a little more... lighthearted? idk but it was based on THIS request!

pairing: Bucky X Reader

word count: 1.9k

summary: You join Peter and his friends for a game of Truth Or Dare but you wish you stayed in your room when MJ challenges you to do a task that will definitely out your secret relationship with Bucky.

masterlist

You totally forgot Peter would have his friends over for the night, so you’re slightly surprised when you find him with Ned and MJ in the kitchen, but it’s a pleasant one. You’ve been spending a lot of time with him, being the youngest of the adults in the tower, you developed a great friendship with the youngster and his friends.

“Oh, hello guys! Good to see you again!” you beam at the three of them, Ned greeting you with a little wave and a stunned smile on his face. Peter has recently revealed that Ned might have a tiny crush on you, which you find cute. Though you’re more than a decade older than him, you find it endearing he is crushing on you out of all the amazing women on the team.

MJ nods in your way as she munches on her sandwich, if you didn’t know her better you’d think she is annoyed by you judging by the look on her face, but you’ve learned by now that this is her default expression, almost a happy one.

“Hi Y/N!” Peter greets you smiling. “How was your day?” he asks lightly. He is such a good kid, knows his manners and cares so much for others. The men in the tower like to tease him about his soft behavior, but you think it’s such a great trait.

“A little tiring. Training kicked my ass today, but it was fine. What are you guys up to?” you ask, grabbing yourself a canned soda from the fridge.

“MJ wants to play truth or dare, but only because she wants to make us do embarrassing stuff,” Peter huffs looking at the girl who just smiles with a shrug.

“Oh, I love that game! Used to play it a lot at parties too!” you smirk, remembering the times you played with your friends in the basement of your mom’s house.

“You want to play with us?” MJ offers.

“If you don’t mind…”

“Not at all!” Peter smiles, happy to have another person join their little group. Glancing at Ned you see that he is now blushing, the tip of his ears turning red as he keeps his eyes fixed on the screen of his phone. Poor kid will have to learn how to function around women sooner or later.

The game starts out quite innocent, it’s not even the wild version where you’re drinking, though it popped into your head to pour yourself some wine. But then you decided to keep it PG rated for the kids’ sake.

But as more and more rounds go down, the tasks and questions are getting a little… spicy. When MJ turns to you and asks you the question of the game and you answer before you could even think about it, you know you are in trouble.

“Dare,” you answer and want to take it back right away, but you don’t want to look like such a pussy. But then MJ smirks at you devilishly and you consider just walking out before she ruins your whole life.

“Alright, text all the other Avengers ‘Hey Daddy’ and read the responses out loud.”

The boys gasp as you press your lips into a thin line, knowing well it won’t end good on your side. Especially because there is one person whose response you would rather not read out loud.

You’ve been close to Bucky since day one and though you both were a little ignorant towards your feelings, a few months ago you finally moved your relationship a little further than just being friends. However you both agreed it’s better kept as a secret, at least until you figure out where you really want to head together as a couple.

Now, if you text that message to Bucky there’s no way he won’t write back something that would bust your asses right away, but you can’t back out now, you can only hope he is busy doing something else and won’t pay attention to his phone.

Pulling your phone out of your pocket you lean onto the kitchen island as the kids start cheering for you being a badass and accepting the task.

“Just hey daddy, that’s all?” you ask as you open your contacts.

“Maybe add a winking face,” Ned suggests and you shoot him a glare that immediately turns his face red as he shuts his mouth.

“The winking face is a good idea,” MJ nods.

“Thanks, Ned,” you mumble under your breath as you start opening the text threads, sending them all the same message. Tony, Nat, Steve, Banner, Clint, Sam, Strange, even Rhodey and at the end of the list… Bucky.

“And what, now we wait?” Peter asks.

“Place the phone here so we see when you get a reply and you’ll read them, we can move on until then,” MJ tells you, bossing you around like you’re not even a highly trained special agent who could take her out in a blink of an eye.

The first reply comes from Nat who just asks if you’re drunk. Then comes Banner, who sounds offended that you think he could be your father, totally missing the point of the text. Tony teases you about always knowing you had a thing for him, Steve kindly tells you he only sees you as a sister, Clint just reads the text and doesn’t reply. Sam just sends a simple “control yourself” message back while Strange threatens you to block you if you send another text like this again. Rhodey doesn’t even reads it.

You start to feel relieved when about twenty minutes pass by and no reply comes from Bucky. The game moves on and you almost start to forget about the whole task when your phone lights up again and your breathing hitches when you see Bucky’s name appear on the screen.

“Oh, another reply!” MJ beams as she urges you to unlock the phone and read the reply. When you do so and see his text, you almost just hop off the stool and run out of the kitchen. You consider saying something else, pretending like he didn’t write what he did, but MJ doesn’t take the bullshit and her patience runs short so she simply snatches your phone out of your hand and reads the text herself.

“I specifically remember you saying you’re not into that stuff. What else are you keeping from me about our sex life?”

You let out a long and tired sigh as the room falls silent and they all just stare at you in confusion before MJ slowly slides the phone back to you.

“Our sex life? There’s… there’s a you and Bucky?” Peter asks quietly, not sure what to do with the new information. An anxious chuckle slips from between your lips as you try to find a way to get yourself out of this massive trouble, but nothing comes to your mind. You’ve fought aliens, assassins, you were captured, tortured, went on a hundred mission in your life, yet now three kids defeated you with a game of Truth or Dare.

“Well, um… It’s a funny story, you know—I don’t… fuck,” you mumble, scratching the back of your neck.

“Are you like… together or is it just a friends with benefits thing?” MJ question, shooting you a curious look.

You don’t get to answer, because just as you are about to open your mouth, the man in talk walks in, a puzzled look on his face, phone in his hand, probably still dwelling on your latest message. His eyes spot you first, but then he realizes that you’re not alone and he freezes. It’s not that Bucky doesn’t like Peter or his friends, he just feels so far away from people these days, let alone teenagers who are about a century younger than him.

“Oh,” he breathes out, slowly walking closer to you. “Hello guys,” he murmurs shyly, trying to put the picture together as his eyes fall back to you and he sees how uncomfortable you are. Before he could get another word out, MJ speaks up and just as always, her raw style doesn’t disappoint any of you.

“Don’t worry, your girlfriend is not really into the Daddy stuff.”

You almost choke on your own breath as you turn to shoot her a glare, your hand moving to grab Bucky’s arm gently, sensing him growing more and more anxious with each second.

“MJ, I don’t think Sergeant Barnes is the right person to joke around with,” Ned mumbles, avoiding to even look at Bucky as you let out an airy chuckle.

“G-Girlfriend? We are not—“ Bucky starts, but you cut him off.

“No use to deny, Buck. They know it.”

Bucky huffs, closing his eyes for a moment before he moves closer to you, his hand coming to rest on your lower back. Despite the absurdity of the situation, this small little gesture makes your heart pitter-patter in your chest.

“Is there any chance this could stay between us, kids?” you ask with a charming smile, turning to the three troublemakers.

“I don’t know, what do we get out of keeping it a secret?” Peter purses his lips, pretending to have the higher ground, but you already know what’s about to come.

Bucky’s vibranium arm snaps to the counter top as he shoots a death glare over to the poor kid and though he definitely looks like he is ready to kill any moment, you know that it’s all just an act.

“How about I don’t rip your guts out, kid? That enough?” Bucky growls and while all three of them take a step back with wide eyes and dry throats, you just shake your head chuckling, placing a hand to his hard chest.

“Buck, no need to go all winter soldier on them. They’ll keep our secret, right?” you ask with an innocent smile and all three of them start nodding wildly, as if they just saw a ghost.

Seeing their reaction you realize it’s better if the game ends here and you let them be on their own. You thank for the fun time before grabbing Bucky’s arm and pull him out of the kitchen, heading up to your rooms.

“You shouldn’t have scared them that badly, Buck,” you scold him, but you still actually find it kind of funny, seeing their pale faces and fearful eyes at your boyfriend’s tough guy act.

“Well, they scare me too sometimes,” he mumbles shrugging. “Especially that MJ girl… she is just… weird.”

You can’t help but laugh at his words, a six feet tall super soldier with a metal arm being scared of a teenage girl with a big mouth, that’s quite an interesting concept.

“Hey,” you stop him before the two of you would part in the hallway. He turns back and his blue eyes soften on you. “Do you want to… sneak into my room?” you ask, biting into your bottom lip as you smirk up at him, sliding a hand up his chest, cupping his cheek in your palm. “We could have some fun… Daddy.”

“Wait, are you really into the daddy stuff?” he asks with wide eyes, making you cackle with your head falling back.

“Just shut up and come to my room,” you chuckle, pressing your lips against his as you pull him into your bedroom, shutting the door closed behind you.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed it!

[iam93percentstardust]

Hi, happy Shared Birthday Month, cause it's my birthday month as well!! Can I please prompt you a WinterIron, where Bucky and/or winter soldier is a science nerd and a massive Tony Stark stan? Happy with setting in any era, any rating 😄 Thank you! You are amazing and I love your stuff!

Happy late birthday! Sorry it took me a bit to get to this prompt but here is a cute no-powers au, featuring some minor Natasha/Steve and some science from a paper my lab group read in group meeting yesterday (check the ao3 story for the paper citation). Sorry I didn't come up with something more original for the science but this was on my mind.

As always, everything I write is also on ao3.

~

“Okay, Steve, this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for me—for us,” Bucky quickly corrects when Steve shoots him an amused look. “So what are we going to do?”

“We’re going to sit quietly in the audience,” Steve says.

“And what are we not going to do?”

“Shout that our best friend would like to bang Tony Stark like a screen door in a hurricane,” Steve dutifully repeats what Bucky has been telling him for the whole drive to the studio. He gives Bucky a sly smile. “Even if it’s true.”

Bucky swats his skinny arm lightly, enough to sting but not so hard that it’ll bruise Steve’s arm, which bruises like a peach. He still can’t believe he managed to win the tickets to watch the live taping of the one hundredth episode of Tony Stark’s show, It’s Only Science If You Write It Down. He’s been following the show since its first episode five years ago. Growing up, Tony Stark was to him what Britney Spears was to other kids. Stark was always in the news for his innovative inventions for his father’s company. Everyone had thought he would take over SI after his parents’ deaths, but instead he’d handed the company over to Pepper Potts, a then-unknown young woman working in SI’s financial department. Stark still held the majority of shares in the company but he’d turned his focus to becoming the next Bill Nye, along with his best friend. Bucky had stumbled across one of the articles about him when he was young and immediately developed one heck of a crush on him that hadn’t at all disappeared with age.

And now he’s here, attending the first ever live taping of Stark’s show.

It’d be a dream come true if only Steve wasn’t the one attending with him. Don’t get him wrong, Stevie’s great, but he’s also convinced Bucky needs to date more often and he’s very… enthusiastic about making sure that everyone they meet that Bucky thinks is even the slightest bit cute knows that.

Stark is the crush to end all crushes. He knows that Steve knows it. He also knows what Steve is like, and he thinks he’ll die of shame if Steve feels the need to let Stark know it too.

“You have your inhaler, right?” he asks as the line creeps forward.

“Yes, mother,” Steve sighs, patting his pocket. “And an EpiPen in the other pocket and my meds in my wallet.”

They’re reminded to keep their phones firmly in their pockets by the surly security guard—incongruously named Happy, according to the badge he’s wearing—at the front door and then ushered inside the studio, only to be stopped by a young woman with a clipboard as they’re climbing the risers.

“Hi,” she says with a sphinxlike smile that makes Bucky want to check that his wallet is still in his pocket. “Which one of you is Bucky Barnes?”

“Uh, that would be me,” he says, raising his hand slightly.

Her eyes catch on the silver sheen of his prosthetic. They don’t register anything other than idle curiosity, but Bucky still awkwardly tucks the arm away. It’s been almost ten years since the accident, but he’s still not used to the looks he gets when people see it.

“I’m Natasha,” she says. “Mr. Stark’s personal assistant. JARVIS noticed you when you entered the studio. Mr. Stark wanted me to inform you both that there’s been a change to the contest winnings.”

Dread starts to pool in Bucky’s stomach but it doesn’t have long to settle before her smile gentles and she adds, “Don’t worry, it’s nothing bad. He just wanted to invite the two of you backstage after the show is over.”

Bucky’s mouth drops open. Steve reaches over to close it and asks, “Why?”

To Bucky’s surprise, Natasha gives Steve a clear onceover, seemingly pleased by what she sees. “Mr. Stark wouldn’t like me to give away his secrets, but I’d imagine it has something to do with the way he spilled his coffee all over his front when he saw your friend’s picture.”

“Really?” Steve asks skeptically. “A notorious playboy tripping all over himself for this yahoo here?”

Natasha laughs, hard enough that Bucky mutters, “It wasn’t that funny.”

Once she’s calmed down, Natasha says, “He’s not as bad as you think. A lot of it is just reputation. And yes, as soon as he got a look at him, he was demanding I figure out a way to get him backstage.”

“What am I, chopped liver?” Steve demands, taking an indignant stance.

Natasha hums, eyes going dark. “Oh no, you got invited backstage because I wanted to meet you,” she purrs. “I’ll come find you boys later. Enjoy the show.”

She saunters off, putting just enough of a sway to her step that Bucky suspects if he were attracted to women, he’d be mesmerized. As it is, he’s the one who has to reach over to close Steve’s jaw this time.

They take their seats and a few minutes later, Tony Stark and James Rhodes walk on set. They’re quietly talking to each other as the crew bustles around them, makeup artists darting up to make sure their faces look perfect. Stark is dressed in a t-shirt that says Engineers do it on the test bench—which is a terrible joke really and shouldn’t make Bucky want to laugh as much as he does—and well-worn jeans that perfectly mold to the shape of his bubble butt. Rhodes could be dressed in a paper sack for all that Bucky notices him.

Steve leans over and whispers, “You sure that I can’t yell that you want to bang Tony Stark like a screen door in a hurricane? Natasha made it sound like he’d be open to it.”

“You do,” Bucky hisses back, “and I’ll tell Natasha you were looking at her rear when she walked away.”

Steve makes an indignant noise and sits back in his chair, sulkily crossing his arms.

“Quiet on set!” the director yells. “And… action!”

“Hi!” Tony Stark says, smiling right at the camera. “I’m Tony and this is Rhodey and you’re watching Disney Channe!”

“He’s kidding,” Rhodes says long-sufferingly. “You’re watching It’s Only Science If You Write It Down.”

Later, Bucky wouldn’t be able to tell anyone what the show had been about. He’d spent the entire show too entranced by Tony’s voice and charisma to pay any attention to the actual science, which is a bit of a shame. He really does like science—he wouldn’t be getting his PhD in physical chemistry if he didn’t—but he can’t tear his eyes away from Tony long enough to actually watch the experiment. It’s fine; he can always watch the show later when it’s released (and maybe, if he’s lucky, he’ll have Tony to watch it with).

It seems like both an eternity and only a moment before the show wraps. Tony and Rhodes leave to thunderous applause, only coming back out for quick bows before disappearing backstage again. Bucky and Steve stay seated while the rest of the audience filters out slowly until Natasha comes to get them. She and Steve chat quietly as she leads them backstage but Bucky can only listen with half an ear; he’s too nervous about meeting his personal hero.

Rhodes is leaving the room Natasha leads them to. He breathes a sigh of relief when he spots the three of them. “Good, you’re here,” he says, specifically looking at Bucky. “Maybe you can calm him down. He’s been bouncing off the walls since he saw your picture.”

“Really?” Bucky squeaks. He clears his throat and tries again. “Really?”

“Really. He read all your papers last night—twice.”

“He has?”

Rhodes nods. “He really likes your piece on inelastic electron wave packet scattering.”

“Yeah? What did he—”

“You’ll have to ask him,” Rhodes interrupts. “I might be a rocket scientist but chemistry isn’t my preferred field of science. If you don’t mind, I’ve got a date to get to.”

He pushes the door open, letting them in, and leaves. Natasha slips through the door, followed immediately by Tony saying, “Where are—oh god, they left, didn’t they? I knew this was too much. Nat—”

“They’re right outside,” Natasha says smoothly. She opens the door further, revealing the two of them awkwardly standing there. Bucky’s gaze darts around a fairly nice dressing room before finally landing on Tony, who is blinking back at him with a wide-eyed, slightly stunned look.

“Hi,” he breathes out.

The corner of Tony’s mouth twitches up in the tiniest of smiles. “Hi.”

“Great, now that that’s out of the way, get out,” Natasha says, giving Tony a shove so that he stumbles out of the room, right into Bucky’s arms. She reaches out and grabs Steve, pulling him inside. “Don’t disturb me for the next hour.”

“Uh,” Steve begins, but he doesn’t actually look upset by this turn of events, so Bucky doesn’t worry—too much, anyway.

He does, however, turn to Tony and ask, “Is he going to be okay?”

“Oh yeah, he’s fine,” Tony says breezily. “Natasha’s just very direct.”

“Right.”

Now that it’s just the two of them alone in the hallway, it’s a little more awkward. Bucky opens his mouth twice to say something, only to shut it again as soon as he realizes his question is stupid. For his part, Tony shoves his hands deep into his pockets and rocks back and forth on his feet.

Then the sound of what is obviously Steve moaning floats through the door. Bucky cringes and jerks his thumb in the direction of the door. “We should—”

“Yep,” Tony agrees.

They get all the way back to the set before they stop. They look at each other for a beat before dissolving into giggles. “Oh my god,” Tony says, clutching his sides. “I knew she moved fast but—”

“Well, Steve doesn’t move fast at all,” Bucky says, “so you can see where I’m a bit lost.”

That sets Tony off into another round of laughter. Bucky is calming down a bit so he takes the moment to admire the way Tony laughs with his entire body. It takes Tony a moment to realizes he’s being stared at. When he does, his laugh tapers off as he gives Bucky a lingering look.

“I’m Tony,” he says eventually.

“Bucky.”

“Wow, that’s really unfortunate.”

“You’re not wrong,” Bucky agrees. “Blame Stevie for that one.”

“Childhood friends, huh?”

“Literally played naked together in the kiddie pool.”

Tony grins. “That sounds familiar.”

“You and Rhodes—”

“Oh no, but if you ever get the chance to meet Janet Van Dyne, remember to ask her about the time she thought she could make a living selling mud pies.”

Bucky takes a moment to marvel that this is his life now, that Tony thinks nothing of giving him dirt on the most prolific fashion designer of their generation. “So, uh, Rhodes told me you read my papers?”

Tony’s eyes light up, and, wow, he looks really pretty when he’s excited. “Yes!” he exclaims. “I want to hear your thoughts on the—uh—the time-dependent density functional theory model.”

“I’d love to,” Bucky says honestly. He bites his lip. “Maybe over coffee?”

A delighted smile spreads across Tony’s face. “I’d really like that.”

He holds out his hand for Bucky to take, which he does. Tony’s hand is small and warm, fitting perfectly against his. They stand there, smiling at each other like idiots, until the surly security guard pokes his head around the corner and asks, “Boss, do you need me to drive you?”

Tony jumps. He shoots Bucky a sheepish grin and then calls over his shoulder, “No, I think we can walk, Happy.”

“Are you sure? There’s—”

“It’s only two blocks.”

“Yeah, but—”

“You know what, Happy. You should go see if Natasha needs you to drive her somewhere. I think she’s got a date too.” While Happy is distracted, Tony tugs Bucky towards a side door he hadn’t noticed earlier. “Come on,” he mutters. “Before Natasha decides to kill me for sending Happy to interrupt her.”

“You could not antagonize her,” Bucky points out.

Tony shoots him a mischievous grin. “Where’s the fun in that?”

[wiypt-writes]

Leave No One Behind

Chapter 16: Endings Beginnings

Co written with @icanfeelastormbrewing​

Summary: Ari and Hannah settle into life back home, but it isn’t all as smooth as they’d have hoped…

Warnings: Bad Language words.

Pairings:  Ari Levinson x OFC Hannah Horowitz

Word Count- 4.5k

A/N: It was recently brought to our attention that in a few other chapters there have been a couple of things that Ari has said/done that are not technically accurate for someone of Jewish heritage. First up, it was reference to Ari observing a ‘Sunday Roast’ when he visited Mama Navon. We just wanted to remind people that Hannah is of Catholic Christian and Jewish heritage (Spanish Catholic Mother, American Jewish Father) and her and Sammy’s upbringing has always been a combination of the two. So, when Ari visited Mama Navon when he was home from Sudan, clearly this was her tradition he was observing. Secondly, in another chapter Ari was praying to the ‘God and the Saints’. Of course, Judaism does not have saints, so there’s a slip up on our part with that one. As with the third point, when we described Ari rushing Sarah to the alter. He would have rushed her to the hoopa.

Regarding all of the above, we would hasten to add, that Ari grew up in the USA, leaving when he was 18. From what little we learn of him in the film, we know was taken by a British Soldier, who married an American Nurse. From the way he talks about it, we don’t get the impression his ‘adoptive’ parents were Jewish, so that alludes us to suspect he had a largely Christian upbringing, whilst clearly  being aware of his heritage. Therefore, we don’t think it is beyond the realms of possibility that he would pick up the odd little thing such as the above three points.  

That aside, we hope the above didn’t distract anyone else from the narrative as it did the reader who brought it to our attention.

Now, just a personal plea from myself in general. Myself and Storm do this for free, and not being a person who pays much attention to religion at all (that’s another debate in itself) it is for this reason I was VERY nervous about continuing this storyline beyond the plot of the film. We certainly don’t have the time, nor brain capacity to be researching things into any kind of huge depth. It’s why most of my story lines centre along similar types of things that I have a good background in. This fic was never supposed to focus on the ins and outs of a particular race of people, just the lives of two dumbasses in love. As all writers on here, we do this for free, and the moment it becomes hard work or unenjoyable, we won’t be continuing. So any other little slip ups, please, unless they’re offensive, give us a little leeway and put it down to Ari being exceptionally Westernised as pointed out above.

Sorry if this comes across as being a little harsh, but this has been playing on my mind a lot over the past few days, to the point I was seriously considering if we ended the fic where it currently stood. That said, I think we have a lot left to tell of Hannah and Ari’s story so, I’ll shut up now and let you read it…if you want that is.

Leave No One Behind Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Part 15

“You haven’t forgotten tomorrow?” Hannah heard her mother ask, as the woman stood up from the table while holding the teacup and saucer to place them in the sink. “You do remember you have to pick Sammy up from the airport tomorrow afternoon, right?”

 Hannah rolled her eyes at her mother’s back. “No, I haven’t forgotten,” she sighed as she played with the crumbles of the pastry she had been nibbling on, “I mean, it’s not like I’ve got anything else going on, is it? Seeing as Ari is with Maya and according to Sarah’s stupid rules I can’t be there with them…”

 At that, Maria Navon turned, giving her daughter a sympathetic look and Hannah snorted in anger.

 It had been four months since they arrived back in Tel Aviv, and Hannah had to concede that for the first few weeks it was fine. She and Ari settled nicely in the apartment Mossad rented in Ari’s name once all the paperwork following the end of the mission had been sorted. Ari had asked Isaacs for an upgrade of his living quarters, given he was now having Maya over to stay every other weekend, plus numerous nights of the week. Not to mention the fact Hannah was moving with him. When Isaacs had asked Ari to put a justification forward, he had simply shrugged, “I fucking earned it, Isaacs.”

 So he got it. Just like he usually got what he wanted, one way or another.

 Hannah was back working at the clinic. Her hands and the experience she had acquired while in Africa were needed more than ever now that it was only her mother and her to run it, although how long it was before her mom decided to retire fully was anyone’s guess. It had been a couple of busy months, what with interviewing for new nurses and locum staff, but Hannah would be lying if she denied having enjoyed every minute of it. She might have Mossad secret agent skills, obviously passed down by her father, but she was a doctor at heart. And that hadn’t changed in the two years she had been away.

 The team had split up within a month of arrival back in Tel Aviv.  Ari and Max had been working to help the refugees. Many of them had simply melted away post their arrival, still not trusting the mysterious white men who had come to their aid. However, some had stuck round; being housed temporarily in hostels, and was those who Ari and Max were tirelessly working for. They focussed their efforts on obtaining them permanent, legal status along with finding them better places to live and jobs of sorts to help them fit in their new reality. 

 Jake had headed back overseas to continue work as a diving instructor, this time in Jamaica, whilst Sammy had been in the States with Rachel for almost two and a half months now, and was, as Maria just reminded Hannah, due back the following day. Hannah suspected, however, not for long, fully expecting him to move there permanently to be with Rachel.

“Sammy is lucky, you know? He has none of this shit with Rachel’s ex.” Hannah grumbled, “Sarah is just being a pain in the ass. And I know for a fact it’s because we told her we got engaged. She was fine with me being there when Maya was until that point.” Hannah finished her rant as she placed her teacup and saucer on her mother’s extended hand. 

“You can’t be sure about that, sweetheart. Maybe there’s something else."

“No, she’s being a bitch.” Hannah quickly stopped her mother’s attempts at justifying Sarah’s behaviour. “She seems perfectly fine with us having dinner during the week and going out and stuff but won’t let Maya stay when I’m there on a weekend, basically just preventing us from spending those days together, for no reason other than she’s bitter.”

Maria Navon sighed. She knew where her daughter was coming from but, being the gentle and caring woman she was, she couldn’t help but try to put herself in the other woman’s shoes. She saw Hannah bite her lip and twirl her engagement ring round her finger, a rounded blue sapphire as deep as the ocean set against a halo of smaller white diamonds on a white gold band, before she spoke again.

 “I wouldn’t mind mama but they’ve been legally separated for years! The terms of their divorce are basically already been agreed. All they need to do is sign the damned papers but recently, well, Ari seems afraid to even raise the issue in case Sarah starts making it all awkward again and stops him seeing Munch.”

“Hey, sweetheart. Listen to me.” Hannah’s mother caught her attention as she pulled out a chair to sit next to her. “Everything is going to be ok, she’ll sign eventually. She knows there isn’t anything she can do about it, she’s just grieving.”

 Hannah’s brow creased at her mother’s choice of words. “Grieving for what? She left him, years ago!”

“She left him because she couldn’t cope with his lifestyle anymore, and he wasn’t winning any awards for being husband of the year, Han. That doesn’t mean she didn’t love him,” Maria woman spoke softly as if to appease her daughter’s raging tone.

“So, basically, I’m just stuck here waiting until she gets her head out of her ass?” 

“Have a little patience, honey. You two have waited over a decade, one way or another, to be together. You sure can wait a few weeks more.” Maria smiled as she reached out for Hannah’s hands who were fiddling with a teaspoon. 

“That’s the thing, Mama.” Hannah sighed as she looked up to meet her mom’s eyes. “I don’t think it’s just going to be weeks.”

“You don’t?” The woman frowned. “Well maybe she’s more stubborn than I thought.”

Hannah shook her head and then noticed her mother’s features had suddenly softened into a smile and she was looking straight over her shoulder. Hannah turned to see Ethan walking into the kitchen in his signature crisp work suit.

“Hi Ethan,” Hannah smiled at him and then looked up at the clock over the fridge before standing up and shrugging. “I should go. Spend the night with my fiancée before I’m banished back to my childhood home for the weekend like a love sick teenager.”

As she left the kitchen dramatically, she heard Ethan ask Maria. “That bad?”

“She’s pissed off,” Hannah heard her mom whisper back, “can’t say I blame her but she needs to make an attempt to see this from the other side, so to speak.”

With an angry growl, Hannah slammed the door and set off walking back to their apartment, in even more of  bad mood than she’d been in when she arrived at her mother’s. 

 Why was anyone treating her like she was the spoiled brat?

****

Ari was getting ready for Hannah’s arrival. He had been cooking, or sort of, making an attempt at dinner for a while and was now setting the table for two. He wanted to make tonight special as he knew this week was going to be the third weekend out of six that he and Hannah would be apart thanks to Sarah and her fucking rules. 

He was finding it hard himself. He’d gotten used to sleeping besides his Firefly since they had got together in Sudan, especially at night. But he knew Hannah was finding it harder. He was sacrificing their time together so that he could spend his allotted weekends with his daughter, which lessened the blow a little, but Hannah was basically being banned from living her life as it was for two days every two weeks, and that make his heart ache. 

And the worst bit about it all, was that he had seen it coming a mile off, and had been powerless to prevent it.

It was a bright Friday morning when they told Maya about their engagement. The previous evening Ari had proposed to Hannah for a second time after buying her a lavish ring. Thus, they had decided to take Maya for a walk and ice cream to break the news to her.  The little girl had been over the moon with the idea of her dad and Hannah getting married, which hadn’t surprised Ari seeing as his daughter had been all over his fiancé ever since they had met at Mossad headquarters the morning they had arrived home.

Now, as he approached Sarah’s apartment to take Maya back, he was about to tell his ex-wife and he was not particularly looking forward to it. But, he was being cautiously optimistic. Sarah had, after all, been amendable since they’d gotten home and seemed okay with Hannah being a part of Maya’s life.

Still, he felt his stomach churn as Maya walked up the apartment they had all shared once upon a time, and rang the doorbell.  No sooner had Sarah opened the door, Maya bounced in blurting the news out without hesitation.

 “Mom, guess what? Dad and Han are getting married! He asked her yesterday and she said yes!”

Ari groaned internally to himself, “Sarah, I didn’t ask her last night,” he smiled bashfully as he explained himself, “and I certainly didn’t do it in front of Maya.”

Sarah shook her head and brushed it off.  “Don’t worry, Ari and … erm, congratulations, I guess.”

“Erm… thanks.” Ari blinked. “I just thought you should hear it from me first… even if you technically did hear it from Munch.”

Despite the civil exchange, Ari could tell that Sarah was hating she didn’t have time nor the privacy to digest the news, and that wasn’t what he’d planned at all. He’d wanted to tell her, quickly, and leave, but Maya had put paid to his plans. Ari could feel coldness of his estranged wife’s stare, along with the tell-tale faint twitch of her nose and upper lip. He knew Sarah well and he, also knew how she deep down felt about him and Hannah. 

“She seemed cool about it but I know her, Han. Too cool for Sarah.” Ari told Hannah that night over dinner. “I can’t help feeling this is going to be bad…”

For once, Ari wished to God he’d been proven wrong. But, Sarah ended up doing what he feared, reverting back to being petty and petulant. She called him the next day to announce from that moment on, when Maya stayed with him, be it during the week or on her agreed weekends, Hannah wasn’t to be there overnight because, as Sarah had put it, it wasn’t appropriate for Maya to be around when they were… well, “up to stuff.

Hannah went ballistic, telling Ari his estranged wife was being ridiculous and she could go to hell, but Ari knew Sarah well enough to know she needed to get this out of her system. He tried his best to explain to Hannah that until she did, there was nothing he could do but roll with it, certainly for the time being. Making Sarah angry would not only risk her going back on terms of the divorce they’d set out in their separation degree, but also, he feared, make her get pissy about him seeing Maya. And that simply wasn’t something he was prepared to risk. He’d already missed too much of Maya over the years, admittedly through his own fault, but he didn’t want to miss a single second more than he had to.

Just as Ari was turning down the heat under their dinner, Simon’s ears pricked up and a second later Hannah’s key was heard in the door. Air smiled at the dog, who let out an excited whine, and leaned to give him a scratch behind his ears.

“Mama’s home, buddy.”

The pooch looked up at his master almost like he was pondering his words and Ari scoffed. 

Yeah, home. Bar the weekends when she’s banished to her mother's…

 Simon trotted off and soon after Ari heard Hannah greeting him. A moment later she walked into the living area and gave him a tired, but genuine smile. 

“Hey Lobo.”

 Ari beamed at his fiancé as he walked to meet her and without warning, he grabbed her face with both hands and stamped his lips on her plump ones, kissing the hell out of her. Hannah moaned in surprise but melted into his hold, her hands instantly reaching for Ari’s bearded cheeks.

“Hey Firefly.” He whispered when he broke the kiss.

She smiled at him as her hands travelled upwards and tangled in his hair. “Something smells good.”

“Thanks, I just showered.” Ari drawled, a cheeky smile on his face.

“I meant the food, you ass.” Hannah laughed as one of her hands slapped Ari shoulder, but his grin never faded.

“I’m a whole meal, honey.” He continued, playfully. Hannah rolled her eyes and stepped back. “But yeah, I’ve been cooking or rather mixing things in pots and pans.”

“Hmmm should I be worried?” She shrugged off the light jacket she was wearing to shield her from the summer showers.

“Well, Simon tasted everything and he’s still breathing.”

“Simon used to eat jellyfish, Ari. That’s not a bar to measure your cooking with.”

“Hey, I tried, okay? Give me some credit. I’ve never cooked for a woman before.” He grabbed her hips and pressed her to his body, one of his big hands splaying over her back.

At that Hannah smiled at him lovingly. He was right. She suspected he had never cooked for Sarah and he certainly hadn’t cooked for her, not once. Never in the brief amount of time they had been secretly dating, and at the resort it had been Chef Aziz's job to cook for everyone.

“I’m honoured, and I’m sure it’ll be great. Give me five to go wash up okay?”

“Sure, babe. I’ll plate the food and open the wine.” He winked at her and Hannah stood on her toes and gave him another quick peck before she headed into the bedroom, Simon following her.

True to his word Ari had done a pretty good job and thirty minutes later they were both sat at the table after having enjoyed a dammed passable and tasty attempt at a beef stroganoff on Ari’s part that left Hannah pleasantly surprised. 

She sighed with satisfaction as she left her fork on her plate and when she looked up she noticed Ari was looking at her intently, his eyes shining under those long eyelashes.

“You trying to seduce me before my carriage turns into a pumpkin tomorrow, Levinson?” Hannah asked before bringing her glass of wine to her lips.

“Hannah...” he sighed.

“What?”

“Please don’t, sweetheart. I don’t want to argue.” 

It was her turn to sigh, heavily. Ari’s words were more of a plea than a warning to her, but she couldn’t help the way she was feeling. Granted, she wasn’t quite as pissed as when she had left her mother’s house, but she still had a sour feeling which was nagging at her. 

“I don’t want to either, Ari. I just don’t like the prospect of spending my weekend away from you. Again.”

“And you think I do?” He asked, reaching for her hand over the table. “Honey, this won’t be forever. Sarah just needs to get her stupid tantrum out of her system.”

“Yeah, I know and I don’t want you having trouble with Maya because of me, I wouldn’t keep you from Munch, ever. But you’re my fiancé and I just...” she trailed off, shrugging, “I don’t want us to be apart.”

Ari licked his lips and pondered for a moment as he looked at their entwined hands. “Okay, I’ll talk to her when I pick Maya up tomorrow.” He nodded with determination when he looked up at her. “See if I can reason with her and...”

“Don’t Ari. You’ll only set her off.” Hannah rapidly cut him off.

Ari groaned and let go of her hand, his look and voice growing harder. “Well then, what do you want me to do? You literally just said-“

“I know, but I don’t want you to poke the bear! I just want this fucking ridiculous situation to be over.” Hannah shook her head. She knew she was riling Air up, but she was sick of everyone trying to get her to accept the situation they were in without so much as a word of complaint. “I’m not blaming you, it’s just…forget it, can we just pretend we are a normal couple who are having a normal evening dinner?”

“We are a normal couple. Well, as normal as most anyway.” Ari took her hand again, his features softening. “Look, I’m sorry. I really am. I just don’t know what I can do.”

“Love me.” Hannah stated after a while.

Now that puzzled Ari. Was that a request or was she doubting him. She couldn’t be doubting him, right? With concern written all over his face he pushed his chair back to stand up and hurriedly crouched beside Hannah, his hands grabbing her thighs firmly as his eyes searched for something in hers. 

“Firefly, I do love you. You know this… I mean, at least, I hope you do.”

“I do.” She nodded as she looked down to him. “Just don’t stop loving me, no matter what crazy ideas Sarah comes up with.” 

“Hannah, that’s not gonna happen.” He assured her after swallowing hard. “I promise you. Nothing she says or does is gonna change the way I feel about you.” 

****

Ari meant what he said and took it upon himself to make sure his Firefly was left with no doubt as to his feelings for her all through the night. And then again he made sure she hadn’t forgotten the following morning too before she left to pick Sammy up from the airport.

Ari collected Maya, as arranged, from the summer holiday camp run by her school and then, throwing caution to the wind, took her to Maria’s to see not only Hannah, but Sammy and the family. Hannah was surprised, but pleased to see them both and hugged Maya tight as the girl threw herself at her, chatting away about her day. They ate a lovely dinner, courtesy of Maria, and later, retired to the shared garden in the warm, July air. 

As Maya sat with Sammy, who was telling her stories about the states and Rachel’s kids, Ari found himself watching Hannah. She was sat with her mom and Ethan, the three of them sipping wine as the dusk drew in. It wasn’t long before the first little twinkles around the tree flashed through the darkness, signalling the fireflies had come out to play. 

Ari’s mind quickly travelled back to when he first met Hannah, how those little bugs had been present in the garden, earning her the nickname. His nickname for her, which had stuck and become a term of his love for her, symbolised by the pendant round her neck. It was that pendant, or more specifically how he had given her that pendant, which had fixed the idea on how to present her with the sparkling sapphire and diamond ring on her finger…

It was a Thursday morning, and Hannah walked into the bedroom after her morning shower. Ari looked up from where he was fastening up his short sleeved shirt and smiled as she grinned back at him. 

“You really do suit that colour, pretty sure Ethan’s secretary will approve.”

“Ethan’s secretary?” Ari continued, stopping two buttons under the collar.

“Yeah, that’s what I said Lobo.” 

“Ethan’s secretary is nearly a hundred years old, Firefly.” Ari rolled his eyes with a chuckle, his hands on his hips as Hannah frowned.

“Well who was the young, blonde girl at her desk the other day when I called in?” She picked up her hairbrush from the top of the chest of drawers that served as her vanity unit.

“Lorraine? She’s an intern, Mrs Goldman is training her.”

“She likes you. I can tell.” Hannah hummed, combing out her locks which had been piled on top of her head to prevent them getting wet.

Ari rolled his eyes as Hannah pulled her hair back into a neat ponytail. “Whatever.”

“You can whatever me all you want,” Hannah sang as she picked up a bottle of lotion and sat on the bed, “I can sense these things.”

Ari snorted, looking down at his girl as she sat on the bed applying lotion to her legs. “You getting all territorial on me?”

“Do I need to?”

“Don’t be an ass!” Ari snorted, leaning down to kiss her. 

As they moved around the room, Ari took his time, a lot longer than usual, dragging his morning routine out as long as possible. If Hannah noticed he was making a meal out of tidying his beard up, something he had taken to doing since returning to civilisation, she didn’t notice.

He was stalling for one reason, and one reason only. The surprise that was waiting for her in her underwear drawer.

After what seemed like an age, she crossed the room and pulled it open. Ari held his breath as she reached in for a pair of panties, but instead she gasped, he hand flying to her mouth.

Bingo.

When Hannah spun around, the red, velvet box in her hand, Ari was waiting on one knee, beaming up at her. “Still wanna marry me, Firefly?”

Tears brimmed in her eyes and she nodded, her voice thick with emotion, “yes, you know I do!”

“Had to ask with a ring, sweetheart.”

He watched as she opened it, her mouth dropping open once more as she stared at the ring. 

“Lobo, it’s gorgeous… I… I love it!”

As Ari rose to his feet, he sighed with relief, “good, ‘cause I had a hard time finding something worthy of my girl.”

“It reminds me of the ocean,” she smiled up at him, “and your eyes.”

“Kinda why I bought it, the ocean that is.” Ari smiled as he took the ring from the box, slipping it over her knuckle, watching as the sapphire settled at the base of her finger. “Hannah Maria Navon, I love you, baby girl.”

Hannah glanced at the ring before she beamed, her hands cupping his cheeks, “and I love you, Ari David Levinson.”

Ari smirked a little at the memory, they were totally late for work after getting a little ‘distracted’ so to speak celebrating their engagement once more, only this time in a bed and not the back of a shitty jeep in the Sudanese desert. 

“Dad?” Maya bounced into his lap, drawing a huff from him as she accidentally elbowed him in the ribs, “Are those fireflies?”

“They are Munch.” He nodded, kissing her head as she watched them zipping around. “Can you see now why I call Hannah my Firefly?”

She grinned, “yip!”

Hannah, who had been watching them, cleared her throat. “Ari, it’s getting late. Shouldn’t you two be heading back to your apartment?”

Ari looked at her pointedly. “Our apartment, sweetheart.”

Hannah was about to shoot a response back but then remembered Maya was there so she merely sighed. “Ari, look, you shouldn’t even be here now anyway. It’s not worth the argument if she finds out.”

“Why can’t we stay here, dad? I wanna stay with Han!” Maya piped up and Hannah groaned a little, shooting Ari a look.

“Because Han needs to stay with Sammy tonight, she’s not seen him for a while. You can stay some other time, okay?”

“I’m not gonna say anything to Mom if that’s what you scared of.”

At that, Ari and Hannah exchanged a look. “Why do you say that? Why would we be scared?” He asked and Maya shrugged.

“I heard Mom say some things.”

“What things, Munchkin?” Ari smoothed her long hair back and waited for her to reply.

“Well, I was upset, because at first I thought Hannah didn’t like me anymore as she always left when I stayed over. But one day last week, I heard Mom tell Grandma on the phone she had made you and Hannah spend the weekends apart because I was with you.” Maya paused and looked at Hannah, “Is that why you don’t stay with us at the apartment?”

Hannah blinked, she was stuck. She didn’t want to lie but also didn’t want to start bad mouthing Sarah in front of Maya, no matter how tempting. “Erm, it’s, well it’s complicated, sweetie. You and your dad need to spend time together. But I promise you it’s absolutely not because I don’t like you. I do, I love you very much.”

At that Maya stood up and launched herself at Hannah.  “I love you too, Han.”

Ari and Hannah could do nothing but exchange a look, which Hannah broke as she leaned down to hug Maya, tears visible in her eyes.

And it left Ari feeling even more like shit than he already did.

No, he had to fix this, even if it meant pulling Sarah up on her attitude despite Hannah asking him not to. Whilst he understood Sarah’s anger, and that she had every right to direct it at him, the fact that it was clearly having an impact on Maya was something he couldn’t let slide.

With a sigh, he stood up, instructing Maya to bid everyone good night. Before he left, he pulled Hannah into a kiss, his hands cupping her face.

“I’m gonna fix this,” he whispered against her lips, “trust me, baby.”

“I do.” She sniffed a little, her nose bumping his. “Go, go on. I’ll see you Sunday.”

As they walked the few blocks home, Maya’s hand locked in Ari’s, he was only partially listening to his daughter as she spoke. 

“Dad!” Her voice drew him from his thoughts about how exactly he was going to approach the subject with his soon to be ex-wife. He glanced down at her.

“What?”

“We’re you listening to a word I just said?”

“Honestly, no!”

“Daaaaaad!” She whined and Ari chuckled.

 “I’m sorry baby, what were you saying?”

“I was saying that I should get Hannah something for luck.”

“What do you mean?”

 “Well, Mom was talking to Auntie Louisa, and she said that Hannah was going to need plenty of luck being married to you so…”

Ari took a deep breath, anger flashing through his system, rolling his eyes. “Oh, did she?”

“Yup.” Maya nodded.

“And, do you think Hannah’s gonna need luck?”

Maya looked at him, and grinned cheekily. “Well, you are an idiot!”

“Rude!” Ari narrowed his eyes playfully, “mind you, technically, you might look more like your mom but you’re half me. Guess that makes you half an idiot, huh?”

Maya went to dig him in the ribs and with a chuckle, Ari swung her up and onto his shoulders. Her hands tangled in his hair as she giggled, before she leaned down, fingers threading into his beard.

“Han’s right, you do look like a wolf.”

Ari laughed, his hands tightening around his daughter’s ankles as her heels lightly bounced against his chest with each step he took.

[problematicfavesareproblematic]

I See You, I Know You- and I’m Not Going Anywhere

You're All I've Ever Wanted, All I Want to Know, part 2

Warnings: SMUT! THERE IS LOTS OF SMUT AHEAD!, oral (fem receiving), p in v sexy sex, shitty fiance of reader being shitty, slurs against the french (frog/froggy), angst, LOADS of feels, infidelity, gene mooning over reader to potentially OOC levels, tiny bit of innocence kink referenced, reader gets chatty when horny, untranslated french (bc it’s Gene’s POV so he wouldn’t think process and translate french in his head (let me know if you want me to add them)), unprotected sex (let’s just pretend there’s no risk, yes?), guilt, lots of potty words.

(My fancast for Peter Kelly is Pablo Schreiber but feel free to ignore it.)

Title(s) come from Duet by Penny and Sparrow and Only You by Matthew Perryman Jones

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

It had been a relatively calm day in Schoonderlogt. The day was sunny- cold, but sunny- and everyone was taking advantage of the well-deserved break from the frontlines.

Gene was drinking some of the best coffee he’d had in months while watching a handful of Airborne and Army soldiers play some vaguely ruled interpretation of basketball, his eyes darting every so often towards the table a few yards away where you and the other nurses were casually sterilizing the linens and strips of fabric. 

You looked beautiful- your hair loose and your smile radiant as you laughed and joked with your friends. It wasn’t often that all of the company’s nurses were at the same place at the same time, so when the stars aligned and you got to see each other it never failed to bring you joy that would last for days afterward.

Your eyes caught his, and Gene couldn’t help but smile when you shot him a wink.

The merriment didn’t last much longer for you.

While Gene had been lighting a cigarette, he was dimly aware of another Jeep-load of Army men arriving at the mouth of the courtyard, not really concerned with the new arrivals.

Until you screamed.

When Gene and the other Easy men whipped their heads over towards the sound, he saw that someone- some man- had wrapped their arms around you from behind and lifted you off of your feet, a broad smile on the man’s face as he spun you around bodily.

“Froggy!”

Gene hadn’t realized he’d already gotten up and begun rushing for you until he saw Liebgott sprinting past him with balled fists and a fixed jaw. His blood was cold in his veins, heart thrumming anxiously as he catches sight of your pale face when the man sets you down, quickly turning in the man’s embrace and staring up at the grinning intruder.

Everyone comes to a halt when the man grips your bottom and pulls you into him for a deep kiss.

“Hey, Y/N!” Liebgott shouts, Gene watching with angry confusion as you quickly pull out of the kiss but don’t continue to shove the man away. “This guy bothering you?”

With your cheeks blazing, you offer a smile that doesn't reach your eyes, eyes still wide and flickering between Easy and this stranger.

“No,” you manage to say before the man wraps an arm around your shoulder and pulls you back into him.

“You gonna introduce me, Froggy-girl?”

Gene doesn’t like the way this man is bodily handling you, but what he really doesn’t like is how you seem to be letting him.

You clear your throat before shyly meeting Gene’s eyes.

“Guys, this is Peter Kelly,” you quickly look away from Gene and look to Joe Liebgott. “My fiance.”

You might as well have yanked Gene’s feet from under him.

~

Peter was everything Gene wasn’t: loud and boisterous and gregarious and extroverted, his jovial attitude initially winning over most of the guys.

That approval dissipates the more Peter drinks that night.

For Gene, he’d hated the man instantly. Not only because he was already half in love with you- although that was certainly a contributing factor.

No, Pete lost any respect from Gene the moment he saw the clear hickies hiding just beneath the collar of the man’s shirt. 

One time, when the two of you had been rolling bandages for restocking the soldier’s med-kits, you’d insinuated that Peter had a wandering eye. You hadn’t elaborated, but there had certainly been a tone of sad acceptance in your voice as you’d said it.

Judging by the way your eyes kept lingering on Peter’s throat, Gene knew that you knew exactly what had caused those marks.

It made Gene furious, but for your sake, he kept his seething to a minimum.

You seemed to shrink in on yourself, as if Peter’s presence made you wither from the inside. The more he spoke about you, it was clear to anyone listening that he didn’t respect you. Several times, Peter had referred to your nursing as ‘endearing’, ignoring your reminder that you weren’t doing this as a hobby with a look of faux apology and an admonishment for ‘upsetting your delicate frog-feelings’.

When Guarno had finally taken the bait and asked what all the frog references were about, you’d frowned and excused yourself with a grimace- a glower staining your face when Peter��s arm shoots out to pull you into his lap.

“Well, just look at her face- Doesn’t she look like the poutiest widdle frog?” 

He said this like a praise, Gene’s blood boiling as he watches you glare at a spot on the ground. With a bit of the fire you normally showed, you detangle yourself from his hold and announce that you’re going to refill your canteen- ignoring his childish whine and yelping when he smacks your ass as you leave.

“Also,” Peter says like a secret while hungrily watching you walk away. “Her mama’s second husband was one of those Frenchie types- so sometimes she acts a little spoiled- and all of us used to tell her to stop bein’ so froggy.”

When Peter shoots a wink Gene’s way, Gene gives him a glare before getting up and going the opposite direction you- not wanting to make your life any more difficult than Peter was clearly making it right now.

A little bit later, after Peter and some of the other Army guys invite Easy to join them at their basecamp, Gene overhears you and Peter arguing behind one of the stone buildings.

“I’m basically your husband, how am I supposed to explain to the guys that my girl doesn’t even want me to spend the night with her?”

“Because I know what ‘spending the night’ entails, and that is certainly not happening—”

Gene hears Peter groan, the beer he’d had earlier making him act more immature than before.

“I’m not getting tested. Why can’t you just trust me—?”

“Because you’re not trustworthy!” your voice is shrill, disgust lurking below the surface. “You clearly have been with someone recently, and I refuse to risk my job- my life- because you want to get off.”

Peter scoffs at that, and Gene creeps closer to hear better.

“You’re a nurse, Y/N. it’s not like you’re a medic—”

“Fuck you.”

Gene retreats quickly upon hearing your footsteps, only stopping when he hears a smacking sound. Before he can rush back, he hears you snarl.

“Don’t think you can ever put your hands on me like that ever again- on anyone. Next time, I won’t go easy on you with a slap. Now go away.”

~

With everyone else gone to the Army’s basecamp, Gene joins you in your temporary quarters, where you’re scribbling inventory reports with an angry grip on your pen.

It’s tense- and Gene wonders if you’d somehow known that he’d overheard your spat with Peter earlier. Your shoulders are up by your shoulders, leg bouncing beneath the table as you sit on the seat’s edge.

Gene knows you’re upset, but selfishly he’s upset too and knows he won’t be able to leave you to fester without at least trying to talk to you.

With obvious frustration, you all but throw your finished report towards the pile of completed paperwork by your feet, clearing your throat a few times as you stare at the wall in front of you.

Suddenly you sigh, your head tilting upward as your shoulders slump in defeat.

“Just go ahead and say it, Eugene.”

Gene frowns, staring at the back of your head. “Say what, Y/N—?”

“Whatever you’re trying so hard not to say, I can feel you ruminating all the way from over here.”

He pauses, feeling as if he may be walking into a trap that could make things infinitely worse. 

Screw it.

“You deserve better.”

You scoff sadly, a bitter sound that makes his chest ache in empathy.

“You sure about that?”

“‘Course I am. You deserve someone who doesn’t talk to you like you’re nuthin’. Someone who is kind and good and wants to make you happy—”

“What makes you think that he isn’t all of those things?”

“He’s a pig, Y/N….he is nuthin’ but mean and cruel and you’ve gotta see that—”

“How do you know that I didn’t used to be like him- just like him?”

Now he’s getting angry too, all of his rage from earlier coming back in full force without his permission.

“Stop bein’ contrary jus’ for the sake of it! Jesus, Y/N, you clearly don’t love him, why’re you still married if—?”

You slam down the pen you’ve been tapping aggressively, whirling around to turn the full force of your scowl upon him.

“What makes you think I haven’t tried to end it?!”

Carelessly nudging the chair out of your path, you storm across the room to stand before him and jab your index finger into the center of his chest.

“I hate to break it to you, Eugene, but some women don’t get to change their minds! Some of us could beg until we’re blue in the face and we’ll still be forced to tie ourselves to men who we hate, just because our parents want to reap the benefits of such arrangements!”

Your lip has begun to quiver, eyes shining with unshed tears as you look up at him.

“Some of us don’t get to be happy, don’t get to marry the people we love!”

Guilt makes his stomach feel sour, especially when you bury your face in his shirtfront and bite back a whimper of heartbreak- your breath hot through the layers of clothing as you choke back more cries.

“Hey,” Gene whispers, the anger he’d been feeling sizzling out like a drenched flame. “‘M sorry, Y/N- please don’t cry….”

You allow him to encourage your face away from his chest, taking your face in his hands and brushing the hair out of your face.

You look so defeated, so goddamn hopeless that it almost makes him want to cry, too. 

Unable to bear the sight of you upset for one more moment, Gene interrupts you mid-sob to catch your lips in a reassuring kiss.

It’s rougher than he intended, his desperation to quell your sorrow causing him to pull you into him a bit too quickly and causing your noses to press together uncomfortably for a moment. To his surprise, you don’t make any move to pull away- your hands coming up to grip at the front of his shirt with an anxiousness he hadn’t seen from you in years.

It reminds him of the first time he touched you.

Your lips are slightly trembling as you lean into him to deepen the kiss, and when Gene’s other hand comes up to cup your face he can feel the stick of drying tears on his palm. Seeing how your fiance had possessively gripped your face in his hand earlier had Gene’s blood boiling earlier- the lack of reverence the man had for you painfully clear in the way he spoke to you, the way he seemed to grope at you as if your flesh solely existed for his pleasure.

As if Gene didn't have enough reasons to hate Peter Kelly, the son of a bitch didn’t even appreciate the gift Gene knew you to be.

You were better than any of them, and he was sure that if he were to ask anyone else in Easy they would say the same. And, if the tension between Peter and the rest of the men were anything to go by, the general consensus was that the man didn’t deserve you. How he’d gotten you in the first place was a marvel that Gene couldn’t even begin to fathom.

Right now, all he knew was you, you, you.  

Your hands fisted in his hair offered the most comforting sting of passion, and Gene would be lying if he said that having you so fervent for him didn’t drive him to the brink of insanity. Heightened emotion was something the both of you seemed to have lost throughout this god-awful war, something you’d both had to relinquish in order to survive. 

Any time you showed these sparks of life, Gene felt a warmth in his chest that envied the most golden sunshine.

It reminded him that you were alive and he was alive and there was still a chance for something good to happen after all of this.

All of his thoughts return to you, feeling guilty for reflecting in a moment that demanded- no, deserved all of his attention and gratitude. He could admire you privately after you fell asleep, in his arms.

Right now, he needed to remind you that you were something worthy of worship.  

You whimper against his mouth when he slides his hands up the planes of your back beneath your sweater, breaking away from your lips momentarily to pull the sweater over your head and toss it to the floor. 

“I need you,” you’re whispering, your hands coming to tear at the buttons of his jacket as if it is personally offending you. “I’m so sorry, but I do….Please, Gene! I fucking need you—!”

Gene is quick to shush you, quickly helping you finish divesting him of his jacket so he can swallow your apologies in another toe-curling kiss. Growing up, he’d been taught that marriage was a life-long commitment, that anyone who broke that promise was ungodly or impure.

Of course, he’d also naively believed that people only got married because they were deeply and wholly in love with one another. It wasn’t until he had met you in Toccoa that he’d realized that love sometimes had nothing to do with it, that those sort of things weren't necessarily as clean-cut as he’d been led to believe.

Taking your face in his hands again, he tilts your face up so he can kiss at the warm skin beneath your jaw, liking the way your moan vibrates in your throat as he walks you back to the table you’d been working at and presses your backside against it.  The sound of your open-mouthed panting had him painfully hard already- it’s almost embarrassing how little you have to do to get him like this.

He hadn’t even realized one of your hands had been working at the fastening of his pants until you’ve begun to scratch your nails softly down the skin of his lower stomach, and when his hips jump in surprise he can feel your breath hitch in your throat with heady amusement. When you do it again, he can hear the smile in your exhale.

“Such a perfect cock,” you nearly coo, your touch light as your fingertips brush over the head of him. “Can’t believe how perfect you are….”

You get like this sometimes when you get turned on, Gene has come to learn.- all lust-drunk and babbly as your words switch from thoughtful to stream of consciousness. It’s endearing, so wildly endearing that Gene would go as far as to call this habit cute. 

Cute was the only term you ever showed resistance to, even in jest. Your reaction to the word was so viscerally negative that it had even surprised him- the person who you had frequently insisted knew you the best.

After meeting your fiance and his degrading attempts at ‘praise’, Gene was now able to understand why. 

Your hand was stroking him in earnest now, having used his precum to coat your hand so your movements were smooth and confident. Despite the fact that he’d managed to get your trousers undone and loose around your thighs, Gene hadn’t been able to actually do anything else other than clutch at your hips and gasp into your neck as you rhythmically ruined him.

Normally, this is as far as you two would get- one of you getting the other off with your hands (and sometimes mouths) before someone or something would interrupt the other’s attempt at reciprocation and you’d both have to dive back into your duties to the Company. It was deeply unsatisfying- particularly for Gene because he wasn’t afraid to admit that making you cum wasn’t one of his favorite things to do. Each and every time he didn’t get to return the favor made him feel terribly guilty- like he had somehow exploited your feelings for him.

It made him feel sick. It didn’t matter how many times you insisted that you didn't see it that way, he always was left feeling as if he’d been inexcusably selfish. 

He hated it.

But tonight was different. For once, the two of you weren’t the only medics available for the dozens of men who seemed to have a near-constant stream of injuries and festering wounds. The Army was there with their fourteen medics and nurses and the majority of Easy company had gone to visit their camp in order to mooch some of their beer and US-funded entertainment.

No one would be interrupting his time with you tonight. 

Not even your fiance, who was no doubt dishonoring his vows of fidelity right now.

It didn’t have to stop. He didn’t want it to stop.

“Wait, Minette,” Gene chokes out, reaching down to stop your sinfully-sweet touch before he lost himself in it. “Jus’ wait a second…..”

You make a sound of disappointment in your throat, and when he pulls back enough to look at you he can see a small pout on your lips- as if he’s deprived you of something. The sight makes him feel lightheaded, the implications almost enough to….

Focus, focus.

“You were so close,” your voice holds an undertone of frustration, your other hand attempting to sneak down and finish what the other had started. When he takes that wrist as well, your eyebrows furrow almost comically. “What are you doing, Eugene—?”

You cut yourself off when he suddenly drops to his knees, hands hooking in the waist of your pants and underwear as he does so and shucking them down to your ankles. Your eyes are wide now, cheeks flushed and eyebrows high in surprise.

Keeping his gaze on you, he leans forward enough to press a kiss to your freshly bared thigh. By the time he moves to give the other the same treatment, he can see that your eyes are becoming soft once more.

“I wanna take your boots off,” Gene says as evenly as he can, electricity crackling in his veins at the smell of you. “Can I do that, Y/N?”

At your hurried nod, Gene kisses a ‘good girl’ to your skin quickly before bowing his head to unlace your boots with shaking fingers. He’s thankful for the time it takes him to do so- it gives him the opportunity to get his thoughts together and regain some semblance of control over himself.

Maybe one day he could be impulsive when it came to you, when neither of you had the threat of death hanging over your heads like a heavy cloud.

But now, with each moment commonly understood as having the potential to be your last, Gene couldn’t afford to leave you as anything other than satisfied…..worshipped.

By the time he has your boots removed and one of your legs freed from your trousers, he wants nothing more than to make you come apart beneath him. Because of him.

Looking back up at you, he can see that you’ve unbuttoned your shirt and thrown it open so he can see your nipples harden beneath your once white t-shirt- the weather was far too cold to consider undressing to complete nudity. Your mouth is pink and swollen, shiny from your tongue having recently darted out to wet them.

For a moment, Gene is stuck- too awed by your beauty to risk moving and missing a moment of it. Your heated whisper of his name is the only thing that shakes him free, and he can’t help but lean into your touch when you card a hand through his hair again.

Bringing his rifle-roughened hands to your knees, he purposefully slides them up your thighs until he can rub his thumbs over your hip bones. When he presses on them lightly, you follow his touch and perch yourself on the edge of the table with a quiet curse. The action parts your lower lips slightly, a movement he is quick to chase with his mouth. 

He wastes no time shouldering his way between your thighs, using his hands to guide them over his shoulders as he starts to lick gently at the seam of your sex.

“Fuck,” you whimper, your other hand coming down to scratch lightly at his scalp. “Fuck, Eugene….you don’t have to—ohh!”

Your unnecessary reassurance is lost in a sigh of arousal the moment his thumbs open you up more for him so he can circle the tip of his tongue around your clit before laving it more purposefully. You always tried to reassure him that using his mouth on you wasn’t necessary, clearly not accustomed to having a partner who enjoyed doing so.

Not that Gene was an expert, not by any means.

But, between having mapped out your sex with his fingers and the limited experience he’d had before the war paired with his- er, considerable knowledge of the human anatomy- he knew enough to take out most of the guesswork.

He hasn’t had many opportunities to go down on you- three on the boat ride to England, five times during your time in Alderbourne, twice since dropping into Normandy. You’d dropped to your knees for him far more than that, and now that he had more perspective on what your relationship with Peter had probably entailed Gene was determined to make up for each and every indulgence you’d offered him.

The tremor of your thighs tells him that you’re getting close, and he can tell by the way the muscles of your stomach clench beneath his greedy palm that you’re starting to have a hard time keeping yourself up as you watched him devour you. He hadn’t realized how vigorously he’d been attending to you, too lost in your taste and smell to hear the interspersing chant of his name being showered upon him as praise spilled from your lips once more.

With a groan, brings you to orgasm, refusing to cease his suckling despite the blooming ache in his jaw. It isn’t until your foot raises to press at his shoulder that he allows you to push him away, and he can tell that he’s exhausted you by the way you fall back and writhe while your release works itself through your bloodstream.

“Oh my God, Gene,” you keep repeating, chest jumping with adrenaline. “Why are you….how are you so good?”

He chuckles at that, his cheeks darkening at the praise. Gene watches as your eyes skate down his body to look at his cock, swallowing audibly before looking into his eyes once more. Before he can assure you that he understands if you don’t want to keep going, you carefully sit up and look up at him bashfully, biting the inside of your lower lip and bringing your hand to his cheek.

The look you’re giving him starts to make him nervous. He’s about to ask you what’s wrong when you clear your throat and tell him.

“I...I don’t know if I’m good at it.”

Gene frowns, searching your face for clarification as to what you’re trying to say.

“What’re you mean, ma cherie? What’s got you so worried?”

Your shoulders nearly slump as you sigh, giving him a weak smile as you clear your throat once more. 

“At sex, Gene. I’m worried—I don’t know how to make it good for you...”

With a shake of his head, he brings his crooked index finger under your chin to stop you from hanging your head in embarrassment. You look so lost right now it breaks his heart.

“Minette, you are the best thing to ever happen to me.”

When you open your mouth to rebuke his statement he’s quick to kiss you, using his free hand to bring yours from his cheek to press against the middle of his chest. It takes you a moment, but you do kiss him back, inhaling sharply as he nips carefully at your bottom lip.

Pulling back, Gene traces his thumb over your lips and gives you a soft smile.

“Never worry about me, ‘cause there isn’t a damn thing you could do that wouldn’t make it ‘good for me’.”

You narrow your eyes at that. “I doubt that’s true—”

Gene snorts and shakes his head admonishingly. “Doubt all you want, darlin’. Don’t make any of what I said change one bit.”

You look at him for a bit, eyes softening again and your hand smoothing down his chest with a hum. He thinks you’re going to require further reassurance until he watches as you purposefully part your mouth enough for his thumb to slip between your lips. The sight of you watching him paired with the drag of your tongue along the pad of his finger goes straight to his cock, reminding him of just how hard he’s become.

When you release him with a gentle nip to his fingertip, Gene stares at you in disbelief.

“Jésus Christ, cherie,” he can’t help but murmur. “Vous ne jouez pas juste…”

You tilt your head slightly, clearly aware of what he’s said but seeming to understand the gist of it.

“Show me what you like,” you whisper, scooting your hips to the very edge of the table and brushing your lips against his. “I’ve wanted you for so long….”

Gene kisses you as he slips inside of you, your gasp of pleasure sweet on his tongue. Unprompted, you bring your legs up to find some purchase around his hips and squeak as you take all of him in at once.

Bon Dieu, tu te sens comme le paradis….

You are clutching at him, your hands dancing for the best place to grip him before settling on one arm hooking around his neck and your other hand bracing at his left bicep. It’s an awkward position- probably because neither of you had ever tried to fuck on a table before- so Gene tries to get past the near blinding pressure building in his loins and wraps one of his arms around your hips to slightly adjust the bend in your spine.

“Shit, I’m sorry—!” you being to apologize before he cuts you off.

“Non, non, non, non Minette….just let me try and—”

You both cry out as he suddenly ruts deep, your nails digging into his flesh through his shirts you gape up at him in surprise.

“Oh, oh!”

“‘S that okay?” he grits out, resisting every fiber in his body that is begging for him to piston his hips and just fuck you already. You nod quickly, rolling your hips experimentally and kissing him quickly when he keens before he can stop himself. Gene grits his teeth at the sweetness you’re showing him. You’re just so good. “I’ll stop if it’s—”

“More than okay….do that again- please don’t stop!”

There’s something so…. overwhelming about the way you’re looking at him, with your eyes wide and lips parted. The whimper that comes from the back of your throat at his next thrust combined with your bewildered expression makes you appear so beautifully innocent that Gene momentarily forgets how to breathe. Maybe innocent is the wrong word. 

Honest. Yes, that was it.

It was your honesty that was overwhelming him, the lack of theater in your reactions to him and his touch so genuine and open that he almost didn’t know what to do with himself. Having you- the most glorious creature he’d ever met, would ever meet- gaze at him as if he’s hung the stars in the sky was just so bewitching and unexpected, particularly because of how highly he regarded you.

Your eyes have a glossy look to them, almost as if you were drunk. Rather than the babble he’d anticipated hearing from you, you’ve gone almost silent aside from the sighs and gasps of pleasure that accompany each piston of his hips into your tight velvet heat. Head lolled back, you watch him from under heavy lids while meeting his thrusts with careful pitches of your own, your eyelashes fluttering in response to his punched-out breath washing over your face.

If he didn’t know any better, Gene would say that you had undersold your experience on purpose. You had to know what you were doing to him.

How devastatingly close you were to unmanning him.

“Is it good, Ma Chatounette?” he can hear himself ask, his head already swimming with the initial signs of orgasm. “Am I making you feel good?”

You nod shallowly, mouth opening to reply but no sound coming out. The hand you’ve braced on his arm now has started to claw, and he can feel you tighten around him. 

You’re close, too.

“Please,” you nearly weep, your hips starting to rut against him. “Please please please please—!”

“D'accord,”’ he nods, taking your words as permission to allow his body to chase that fire that’s been burning him alive for quite some time now. “Je te donnerai ce dont tu as besoin, chérie. Je vais le rendre meilleur….”

Gene moans as you allow him to put a hand on your shoulder and press you back so you’re laying back on the table, your back arching sinfully as you mewl for him. Your legs tighten around his waist, and he feels his jaw go slack at the sight of your rolling hips coming to meet him thrust for thrust. You’ve begun to chant his name again, the sheen of sweat on your skin making you look like some carnal divinity sent to him for the sole purpose of ruining him.

And who was he to deny an angel?

Your arms wrap around him as he hunches over to brace his elbows by your shoulders, pressing your hot cheek against his - nibbling at his earlobe as his rhythm becomes punishing.

“Ma ruine, mon ange, je ne veux jamais être sans toi—”

“Come for me- please, please, I’ve never felt so good—”

It’s the catch of his pelvis against your clit that snaps both of you into oblivion, Gene’s vision going white as he clutches at whatever parts of you he can get his hands on, choking on his own breath as the bite of your fingernails adds the perfect amount of pain to his release. He’s aware of you crying out in release, but it’s swirled into the sound of blood racing in his ears as your tightening walls milk him for all he’s worth.

As his vision returns to him, he laboriously removes his head from the curve of your shoulder to look at you, his heart freezing midbeat when he sees tears streaming down your cheeks.

“Y/N?”

You’re shaking your head, hands finding his cheeks to bring his mouth to yours so you can kiss him syrupy-slow, the action throwing him for a loop.

“I’m happy,” you insist between kisses. “It was so good…. I-I don’t know why I’m crying, I’m sorry—”

Gene calms instantly, kissing you back and sighing into your mouth.

He understood what you were trying to say, knew exactly what you were experiencing. It made him stupidly happy that he wasn’t the only one overwhelmed by this….connection you two had.

He’d never had a lover who had reciprocated his feelings so fully. Then again, he’d never felt this with anyone else before, either.

“Don’t be sorry, Minette….I feel it, too.”

It takes the two of you a while, but you do eventually manage to move to the small mattress in the corner of the room, tangling yourselves together beneath the moderate warmth of the blankets and coats you’d scavenged earlier while avoiding Peter.

You must’ve thought he was asleep, because he has a feeling you wouldn’t have dared to say the words aloud.

“I love you,” you whispered against his shoulder in the darkness. “However terrible that makes me, I’m in love with you Eugene Roe.”

Gene is thankful for the pitch-black surrounding you. That way, he can allow himself to smile without fear of you seeing it.

Je suis amoureux de toi depuis des années, (Y/N).  J'ai hâte de te le dire un jour.

But for now, this was enough.

~ ~ ~

(*hides under covers for the rest of the day* OK THANK YOU FOR YOUR TIME THIS HAS BEEN MY FIC DO WITH IT WHAT YOU WILL)

Taglist: @mrseasycompany​ @itswormtrain @mrsalwayswrite​ @happyveday​ @sunsetmando​ @ricksmorty​ @liebgotttme​

[trekkie-in-space]

Request : Berlin flirt with OC/Reader and Marsella/Marseille is jealous - La Casa de Papel / Money Heist

Title : To envy the sun

Author :JackB

Resume : Berlin flirt with OC/Reader and Marsella is displeased/hates it.

Requested by : @ahsxual

Warning : Some violence against women (mild), slur

Word : 4929

____

For how perceptive and clever Andrès is, he can be terribly oblivious to some things which can make it very frustrating. It’s not intentional on his part, Marsella knows, it’s just how Andrès is. He is one to take a lot of places in a room, to take the center like a sun, and he does that with such a natural that few people can compete with him. His confidence radiates around and sometimes it feels like you can exist only because he has more than proper manners or because he wants something from you. Most of the time at least. He never knew Andrès to be beyond or shy to go dirty if he feels it’s required in one way or another. But it’s not the case here.

“How are things going with Tatiana ?” He asks as Andrès serve him coffee.

The morning is warm with a gentle sunbeam that promise to become something to endure later that day. If their meeting around breakfast today is supposed to be to talk about some details for their current ‘business’ partnership, Marsella know Andrès likes to initiate the matter himself. So, in the meantime, it’s just friendly conversation or debate.

“Fabulous !” He answers with a warm smile. “She is amazing, things are going above and beyond. Why ?” His question is asked with this peculiar tone Marsella know to be careful around.

“Just thought, you’ve been flirting quite obviously with Athena last night, I believe Tatiana is not one to appreciate such gesture.” Andrès breaks into a laugh.

“I was hardly flirting.”

“Would you ask anybody at that party, they would say you were flirting.”

“Okay, maybe I was flirting.” He admits he bit too proud of himself. Marsella is thankful to takes a sip of his coffee at this moment, hiding any expression he could be making hearing that. “But it’s all in good friendliness. Tatiana knows I’m all for her, she has nothing to be afraid of. Plus, there is nothing more ugly and weak than a man who cheats. Unsatisfied bastard who don’t deserve what they are given. And women love when we give their friends’ attention. Athena was extraordinary last night, my compliments were genuine and I thought she could relax a bit too.”

Marsella nod.

“Why ? Does it bother you ?” Andrès has this peculiar smile on his face which let Marsella know just how much he is screwed.

_____

“May I present you Athena Clementelli, La Prima of the Ballet de La Scala, in Milan.” Tatiana says, the woman at her side smile shyly and bow to him. He return the gesture with a nod. She seems intimidated, and he guesses he is pretty tall and broad compared to her small size, without necessarily looking overly worrying, he knows he is not very inviting at first glance.

The presentations are cut short as Tatiana takes the arm of her friend and they walk away, immediately launching in what seems an interesting conversation. Andrès give him a tap on the shoulder and gently push to invite him to walk behind the two women with him. Even if the private jet will wait for them, passing too much time in a busy and loud airport is never pleasurable.

“She is amazing on a scene, a brilliant dancer and a very good friend of my love.”

“And since you said we were going to Milan, I suppose Tatiana gives a representation there.”

“Exactly, it’s a partnership. Tatiana will play, and Athena will dance. And us, we will steal. But first, Venice, we have ten days before the representation, we want to make the most of it.”

That’s one of the advantages to work with Andrès, beautiful city, fancy places and good times are always of the party at some point or another.

This private plane is quite nicely sized. There’s a lot of room and the two women quickly take up the front side, close to the cabin and continue their chatting.

“It’s been a long time, they have a lot to tell each other.” Andrès says as he sits closer to the back, leaving the girls some privacy.

He sat near him, the crew that will take care of them during the trip prevent them from talking about the heist they are planning, so after a bit of small talk Andrés decide to take a nap.

Marsella find himself dragged to the jovial conversation ahead the plane, the current article he found to occupy his time is too uninteresting to keep his attention. And at this point ear dropping anything and everything has become a habit, an instinct he doesn’t even intentionally think about.

The conversation contains nothing capital in itself. Athena just explain to an overly please Tatiana how she ousted her competitors for the place of Prima and secured her position. She might not look like it, but if what he hears is true, she is ferocious when she wants something or when someone pissed her off. Her tale is brutal and for a second he wonder how he expected less of a friend of Tatiana and Andrès.

Times passes and Tatiana joins them in the back. Or rather join Andrès. He knows it’s time to head out and leave the couple be extravagant together as only them know how and dare to be. So he joins Athena in the front, he smiles at her as he sits on the other side of the corridor to her, and she answer with a small smile, quickly returning to her occupation.

He notices her without observing, if he is to work with her, potentially, he is not sure of all the details yet, he needs to know more about her.

For what he can see, she keeps to herself, she is kind and polite with the staff and tends to be more reserved with the man than with the woman that she easily chats up with.

When he gets up to relax his legs and take a few steps he accidentally let the magazine he had hardly been reading fall, as he bends to pick it up he is outpaced by Athena, picking it up for him.

“Oh, let me.” She says in Italian. She hands him the magazine quickly.

“Thank you.” He answers back in her tongue.

She is pleasantly surprised.

“You speak Italian ?”

“I do.”

“Is it just a few words every tourist knows or.. ”

“Or am I able to hold a specific conversation ? Feel free to try me.” He continues while stretching a bit. “But apologize my regionalism, it is a bit poor.”

She smiles and invites him to sit in front of her.

“Where did you learn Italian ?”

“I’ve studied over in Naples, I was terrible, but I couldn’t afford to be in the army.”

“You’re a soldier ?”

“Was.”

“Did you ever kill someone ?” He gives a nervous laugh.

“Going straight for the delicate question I see.”

“Just curious I suppose.”

“Be careful, next she will ask you miliary secret.” Tatiana says as she passes beside them to go talk to the pilot.

Athena blush slightly, her eyes lower. Tatiana is not long to come back, and in the back Andrès call for her loudly with loving and erotic suggestions that she answer positively to, which only make Athena blush further.

“Don’t worry, there is noise canceling headphone if they can’t wait to arrive at the hotel.”

“We don’t have that luxury in our training studio, but maybe I should require it.”

“As a prima I’m sure you could.”

“Definitely.”

“How did you meet Tatiana ?”

“In a gala representation in Moscow, it was one of the most terrible and chaotic nights I ever had, ask Tatiana she tells the tale better than me. And let’s says it didn’t go well at all with her at first, but that night or rather morning, we found ourselves outside, drinking vodka to keep us warm and we made friends over the chaos of that night.”

“Found you had more in common ?”

“Absolutely. I wasn’t a Prima at that time, took me a lot of work to achieve it, that world is harsh and unforgiving. I found the same determination in Tatiana.”

They can hear the couple get more excited in the back.

“I think I’m going to take those noise canceling headphone and takes a nap.”

Marsella open the drawer on the side for her. She thanks him in a tone that seems too grateful for such a small and inconsequential gesture. He regains the other side of the plane, giving her space and privacy.

____

Upon arriving in the Marco Polo airport they are approached by a small group, Athena walk slightly faster to meet with the older woman that seems to be the one in charge. It just strikes him upon seeing them smiling, that they must be dancers too. Their stance and physics similar to how he saw Athena be.

Tatiana and Andrès present themselves easily and himself feel a bit clumsy around, though it goes unnoticed.

“Thank you so much Madame Bartolotti for letting me train.. ”

“Nonsense, you know you’re always welcome here. Though I do have a favor to ask of you.” She asks as she takes Athena arm in hers and start walking, leaning the way for their little group.

“Of course, anything.”

“The city receives conservators from all around the country for a conference on the Italian renaissance, I would like you to give a representation for them at the opening party.”

“It would be my pleasure.”

“Of course your friends are invited.”

“It’s more than appreciated Madame Bartolotti, if I may, my cherished wife is an extraordinary pianist.” Andrès says, holding his hand in the air for Tatiana to take, he brings her so naturally on the scene, letting her use her charm.

“It would be my pleasure to offer you my service for this party.” She says. “As a way to thank you for your hospitality.”

“Tatiana and I have been working several times together, she is talented.” Athena adds. “More so than Regazzi.”

“I see no reason not to accept, I will speak with the orchestra of your participation. I’m very curious to discover your performance, not many people can compete with Regazzi, but I know Athena never hand out such compliment on a whim.”

“Oh I know she is never one to brush an ego just to be kind.” Tatiana confirms.

“Exactly. It will take place in the Palazzo Ducale in four days, I hope it’s enough time for you to rest and prepare.”

“Of course. More than enough.” Athena affirms.

“Good, may I present you to Nicolo, Manfredi and Cirillo, you will work with them, they are at your disposition and you will be the one to choose who come with you for the duet at the party.”

She nods at the three men, slightly in retreat, careful as they all present themselves to her once more.

“It would be to pleasure to work with you. The trip has been long it will have to wait tomorrow morning for repetition, but I would like to see how you dance today. If you don’t mind.”

That being set, they all embark in a boat to join the main city. Athena and Tatiana head for the theater La Fenice with Bartolotti and the dancers, while him and Andrès head for their hotel. They have a lot of things to discuss for the Heist in Milan and details to sort out. He is not even surprised to see how luxurious the Monaco & Grand Canal hotel is, nor to be paid a room for the time of his stay. Andrès love luxe and always treat his trusted collaborators well.

____

Athena is quick to leave in the morning, the sun is only peaking in the horizon and the air is fresh from the breeze. She does not notice him as she passes beside the terrace, her brilliant brown hair flow with her movement and she tie them in a near perfect chignon without thinking. The way from the hotel to the theater is not long but her pace is dynamic. Though, she is stopped when a woman comes toward her with an even quicker pace and a palpable determination.

He focus back on his coffee and the news in the journal. But his ears are sharp as he listens to what he can.

“ … mistake, you can perform to that party only because I don’t have time for it. You are no more than a convenience for Madame Bartolotti.”

“Not my fault if you can’t assume multiple project at the same time Olivia.”

“Keep low, I lend you my theater by respect but don’t come strutting on my field.”

“Madame Bartolotti is the one to lend me La Fenice.. ”

Marsella can feel the tension between the two women, it wouldn’t take much for it to escalate.

“..But thank you for lending me your dancers, they are talented.” Athena softens, calming the electric heat between Olivia and her.

“That conference is important, the representation need to be perfect, I wouldn’t risk it with a low tier dancer, now it’s up to you not to screw it up.”

“I never do and you know that. Personally even. I will make sure to address how generous you were though.” Olivia nod.

“If we’re clear.”

“We are.”

The woman leaves promptly, not without a dry glare that Athena return with more restrain. Once out of sight she relaxes and breath out before storming back toward the hotel. It’s at this moment she notices him. He salutes her and invite her to his table.

She takes on the offers and sit carefully in front of him, nervous.

“You seems pissed off.” He comments.

“One coffee please, and add a bit of whiskey in it please.” She asks a passing waiter who nods to her request. “Yah.” She answers him, untying her hair who fall back on her shoulder.

“Whiskey right in the morning ?”

“Just to take the edge off. She’s.. ” She starts but stops herself to calm a bit. “She’s the Prima of La Fenice, and in my world a Prima hates other Prima. We are in constant concurrence. And it’s without counting ex-Prima who are bitter to be on the bench and those who wish to take our place.”

“Coexistence is hard I see.”

“It is. She is even more bitter because I was supposed to be the Prima of La Fenice, she was the backup option in case I didn’t take the position.”

The waiter arrives with her coffee and she takes a sip or two of it.

“I’m not here to take her place, she doesn’t need to freak out and put pressure on me.”

“If she does it’s because you still represent a threat to her. You’re the one putting pressure on her just by being here.”

“True.” She smiles and gets up. “I’m sorry, I have to leave if I don’t want to be late. Thank you for the talk, I needed to calm down.”

“My pleasure. Any good place I wouldn’t dare to miss while I’m here ?” He asks.

“Try the Castello District and try to find the garden. It’s beautiful.” She says after a bit of reflexion.

“I will. Thank you.”

She quickly leaves. He knows he has a few hours to kill before he meets Andrès again, plenty of time to visit some places, the last time he came in Venice was for a contract and he didn’t have the leisure to enjoy the city. So be the Castello District then.

____

That evening, as he is about to leave the hotel Marsella see Athena in the lounge, a nearly empty drink in hand and a bored expression on her face. He goes to salute her and she smile at him.

He quickly learn the reason for her poor mood. Tatiana and her were supposed to go out tonight, but she canceled their plan in favor of her husband, which in itself is understandable.

“I’m going out to eat, care to join me ?” He offers. He is used to being alone but wouldn’t say no to the bright company of Athena.

She hesitates an instant but accept.

“The garden was indeed beautiful.” He says.

“I’m glad you found it, it’s a sight to see. Especially since green space are rare and private most of the time in Venice.”

On their way for a restaurant they cross paths with a dog, Athena is quick to go to pet it, forgetting what is around her and Marsella himself. Only remembering his company when he lower down to pet the animal too.

“Dogs are the best.” He comments, memories coming back to him.

“Do you have one ?”

“Had.” She nods, he can see in her eyes that she is curious but restrain from asking. “Do you ?” He asks back.

“I wish I had, but I’m traveling too much, I would never see it and my heart would break.”

“You always have time later.”

“When someone takes my place, sure. I may have more time then, but I don’t want to think of it. The sooner you think it will end the sooner it end.” She refocus on the dog who is more than happy to be getting attention. “I don’t know much about you, so tell me a bit about your dog.” She finally asks. He laughs,

“Alright, she was called.. ”

The evening goes well, their dinner is passed to talk about their past animals for the most part and in those tales are woven some details about their life.

Back at the hotel, they are about to split back in their respecting room when she proposes :

“If you like, come to see me rehearse tomorrow. La Fenice is a sight to see from inside and I like to have a public.”

“I will come.”

“Good. Only if you want, of course, and you don’t have to stay for long if you do come.” She adds quickly.

“It’s fine.” He reassures. “I’m curious.”

“Good then. Just says your name when you arrive, I will warn them to let you enter.”

“Noted. Good night.”

“Good night.”

____

As he enters the theater, he is humbled by the beauty of the place. He is not really used to that kind of environment, it’s not his primary point of gravitation, though he learned how to blend in most places.

He is guided in a few corridors then shown directions to the backstage by an obviously bored receptionist. He apparently arrived at the moment where they took a break as nobody had been on the scene when he was guided there at first.

It’s not a problem for him, he makes his ways in a few steps and follow the sound of voices.

It’s unclear at first, but he quickly recognizes the tone of a conflict. If he speed up, he does so as quietly he can. Listening carefully.

He easily recognize Athena voice and what must be one of the dancers that were at the airport.

“.. Picked Manfredi, my decision is final, stop arguing.”

“I’m a better dancer.”

“You can keep repeating that it’s not going to make me change.”

“You’re just an entitled bitch, Manfredi will drop you tomorrow.. ”

“You’re the one who nearly dropped me yesterday.” She snaps back.

“I need that position, what don’t you get about that ?”

“I don’t car.. ”

“I need the money, I need the publicity for my career, some recognition, it’s simple. What you don’t get about that ?”

Something is thrown on the wall and break loudly on the floor. Marsella is getting closer, but still out of sight, and can pick up Athena fearful gasp.

“Leave. I didn’t pick you. Give it up.” She tries again with force yet her tone is full of anguish.

“I’m a good dancer, I was Olivia’s main.. ”

“Yeah ? Well, I get why she dropped you.”

“You.. ”

Athena back up to find herself cornered on a table as he raises his hand against her. He finds himself firmly stopped right in the air. She raise her eyes toward Marsella and let out a relieved breath. The man tries to free himself, but he is firmly held and any attempts drop flat.

“I believe she told you to leave !” He says firmly.

“Who the fuck are you ?” He tries to free himself again, in vain. Marsella place himself between him and Athena. Making him back up.

“You can think of me I some sort of guard dog if you want.” The other man snort.

“Who the fuck he is ?” He asks Athena directly.

Marsella snap his fingers near his ears, his grip tighten on his arm.

“It’s with me you’re dealing now boy. Better calm down, it would be unfortunate for you to get injured, don’t you think ?”

“What ? You’re a psycho.”

“You can’t dance with a damaged knee I believe, or I’m thinking, maybe an ankle.”

“What do you want ?”

“For you to leave just like Athena asked.”

“Fine.” He tries to free himself but Marsella still don’t let go. “I’m leaving.”

“And if something were to happen to Athena or hm.. Manfr.. ” He turns toward Athena.

“Manfredi.” She answers.

“Manfredi.” He repeats. “I will hold you personally responsible, and well, let’s says you don’t want that. Are we clear ?”

“Clear.” The man has a smaller voice now as he takes in the threat.

Marsella let go of him and the man leave promptly, cursing lowly.

“You’re alright ?” He asks Athena.

“Ye.. ”

“Where is this bastard ?” Andrès exclaimed as he enters the backstage, Tatiana following him closely. Marsella point out a direction he immediately follows.

“You’re okay ?” Tatiana asks her.

“Yes, it’s fine, it just got a bit heated.”

“More than heated, he was getting violent.” Marsella correct.

“Did he touch you ?” Tatiana asks.

“Was about. Thank you for your help. I’m glad you came.” She directs at Marsella.

“He’s always there when you need him, that is true.” Andrès says as he comes back.

They all, but Athena, exchange a knowing glare, that man will get some repercussion.

“Do you want to go out, relax ?”

“No, I’m waiting for Manfredi.”

“We can leave a note and he can join us when he arrives.” Athena thinks an instant.

“Okay, yeah, taking some air will do me good.”

On their way out Athena turn to Marsella. He is already way bigger and taller than her but at this moment, she seems so small as she looks up.

“You wouldn’t have hurt him do you ?”

“Only if necessary.” He answers and his tone comes out a bit too coldly.

In a second he had passed from a helpful friend to a scary stranger. Feeling her sudden unease Tatiana grabs her arm and they take the front.

“Don’t worry.. ” He hears her says.

“It’s good you were here to help her.” Andrès tell him.

“You want to do something about the boy ?”

“Nicolo Virona, and yes, I believe he deserves a bit more than a threat.”

They end up taking a small walk on the street, before having a coffee on a terrace. The mood lightens up and earlier worries are forgotten. Manfredi do join them and conversation come to turn around dance and the many interesting stories that come with working within a ballet of worldwide fame.

“We should go back and rehearse.” Manfredi says after a bit of time. “You can both come to watch us if you want.” He directs at him and Andrès.

“I would like that.” Athena says, any worries she had, had disappeared from her sharp brown eyes which reassure him in accepting the proposition.

____

The party is grandiose. The Doge’s Palace is extraordinary, beautiful painting recovers the walls and ceiling, ornated with golden moldings and wood, it’s a masterpiece like you rarely see one. A superb white piano awaits for Tatiana to start playing. Place has been made in the center of the room for the arrivals of the dancers and a grounding choir of whisper can be heard, all eager and curious to see what will follow. It calm down as light focus on the scene, plunging everyone in a gentle darkness.

“Look at her.” Andrès tell him, watching Tatiana as she starts playing. Full of admiration and love.

Everybody goes quiet as notes rise in the room.

Manfredi come, his steps are fluid and elegant and give an impression of languor and sadness. Slow and yearning. They’ve seen him do those steps in training but it hit different tonight. The note of the piano follow the mood, and when it accelerates they know Athena will make her entry soon.

She doesn’t come from where Manfredi emerged but from the crowd around where she squeezes her way with smooth movements.

She jumps and her partner catch her easily, like it’s nothing. He holds her high and turn and when she goes down he embraces her as if they were lovers finding each other again. Lowering her down nearly to the floor. In a quiet and peaceful move. There’s a reverence to it.

Then she finds herself on her feet and they separate for a few moves to find each other again. Every movement is fluid, elegant, and with a natural and a sensuality that is mesmerizing.

It’s beautiful.

The room goes dark when they finish and all light lighten up back for the final salute, applause raise high in the room and many are coming to congrats them on their performance and exchange a few words. He stays in retreat until he can himself go and present his admiration.

“Athena, you were.. ”

“MAGNIFICENT.” Andrès cuts him and pass in front of him catching all of Athena attention. She can barely glance at him before Andrès catch her attention by a flow of beautifully worded compliments. His would be pale in comparison. Not that his feeling and intention would be less, but the form would be poor compared to Andrès.

Sublime, grandiose, opulent, splendid, elegant, sumptuous, majestic.. Andrès spare no compliment. He makes her laugh and manages to eclipse everything around them.

“Do you want a drink ?”

“A flute of champagne would be perfect.” Andrès turn toward him and he knows the task to go pick one fall on him.

“You were resplendent, I’m humbled by such beauty.” He tells her as he hand her the flute when he comes back.

“Thank you.”

“I agree, nobody could look away from you.” Andrès takes her hand and kiss the top of it which make Athena giggle.

In a second, Marsella is forgotten again. He looks at Andrès in disbelief, annoyed by his lack of tact.

“I hope you will grant me the pleasure of a dance tonight.” Andrès asks.

“It would be my pleasure. But I need to change first.”

“Of course.”

Marsella doesn’t manage to offers more than a few words to Athena, her attention caught by the effervescence of the party. After a time he doesn’t really try anymore. It’s not his place, not his world. He doesn’t have Andrès talent and charm and he can’t help but feel a bit bitter about it. Andrès know how to stand out while he is an expert in blending in the crowd to never be seen. A bit too much to his tastes. It doesn’t really matter, Athena seems like she enjoys herself, his presence or not wouldn’t change anything.

____

“Why ? Does it bother you ?” Andrès has this peculiar smile on his face which let Marsella know just how much he is screwed.

“No.” Andrès laugh gently.

“Yes, it does.” He seems very pleased with himself. “It does. You like her.”

He doesn’t answer, this is escalating to a way he doesn’t like.

“Difficult not to, she is brilliant, intelligent, beautiful. Everybody had her eyes on her last night.” Marsella raise his cup to this. “But you could have stood out. Invite her, catch her attention for yourself.”

Difficult when you’re already on the scene. He thinks.

Andrès catch the hint in his eyes. “Oh, because of me ?” He laughs, and Marsella hates it, he feels like being mocked.

“I’m hardly going to compete with you, it’s your field.” He answers calmly.

“I’m taking your envy as a compliment, but you need to be more outstanding, a bit more.. ” He searches his words, a hand on his shoulder. “A bit more.. A bit less proper and a bit more confident.”

Andrès touch bother him and he moves slightly, thankfully his working partner take the hint and removes his hand.

“You’re giving me advice now ?” He can’t help but feel bitter and slightly humiliated.

“Look at me, I get everything I want, I take everything I want. I can help you.” Marsella snort. Andrès come to sit at his side. “No, it’s true. Athena appreciates you. You, the one who came to her rescue. Make a grand gesture, she will appreciate it.”

“She’s not like Tatiana.”

“Exactly, I’m a bit too much for her, she needs someone a bit more subtle. Here what I think.. ”

The preparation for the heist in Milan is forgotten as Andrès expose his idea.. Marsella previous bitterness fade in favor of amusement. Alright, maybe he can learn a thing or two.

End.

[solesurvivorpaigeargot]

HOLY HELLO Sketchy friends, followers, and fans! It's that time again, time for...

SHIPPY SATURDAY!

The heck is happening here? Here's an FAQ~ Wanna support the event? Here's my Ko-fi!

That's right, it's FINALLY the last Saturday of the month... and I've decided it's high time our Quotable prompt evolved into a Dialog prompt! This is gonna work a lot like previous Quote prompts, but with an extra twist, so please make sure you read the guidelines for a valid request before sending in!

ONWARDS!

To make a VALID Shippy Saturday request, please send me the following in an ASK to my ASKBOX:

The COUPLE you'd like me to sketch up ---- OC? Heck yes! Canon? Hell yeah! All characters welcome, so long as they're from Fallout ---- OC x OC? Cool! Canon x Canon? SWEET! OC x Canon? DAMN RIGHT.

The NUMBER of the dialog snippet you'd like me to art them saying ---- Got more than one favorite? You may list up to THREE in your ask, in order of preference, to help the artist avoid repeats <3 ---- Still can't pick? Send in 'Dealer's Choice!' and the artist will pick one for you.... oooor possibly make up some fresh dialog on the spot ;3

What KIND OF RELATIONSHIP your couple has with each other ---- Romantic? Platonic? Professional? Familial? Rivals? Neighbors? Despite it's name, Shippy Saturday is about all kinds of human connections, not just the romantic ones! ---- Is your couple part of a larger OT3 or poly group? Tell me who else is part of the relationship; they probably won't get arted, but they might add their two cents to the scene from off-frame XD

IF YOU'RE SENDING IN AN OC!! ---- Send your request ask FIRST, without reference information ---- THEN send your OC's reference information to me via my Tumblr IM ---- Don't have any reference pictures, but you can type of a written description? Great! I love working from written descriptions! :D [ No, really, I do. Give them to me :D ]

After that, you can leave all the rest to me! :D [ I.e Please do not request poses or specific actions ]

Hokay? HOKAY! With all of that out of the way, let's get onto the dialog snippets! These are taken from various things I enjoy, as well as some of my own work. These quotes have been modified to gender neutral pronouns, to remove most proper nouns, and for brevity.

[ Some of these quotes have multiple speakers! That will be shown like this! "Speaker A" -- "Speaker B" ]

"Yeah, well, I'm a victim of circumstance" -- "... I thought you called it your pecker."

"Here, you look cold."

"You are so lucky I love you." -- "Damn right."

"You know the routine." -- "Yeah! WE do all the work, YOU get all the credit!"

"I want you with me, but... I'm scared." -- "Trust me. Trust me to take care of myself." -- "I trust you, it's the rest of the world I'm terrified of!"

"No breakfast?" -- "I did it yesterday-- bologna and beans, it's your turn." -- "No... It was eggs. I did eggs... over easy." -- "The hell you did! Bologna and beans, it's your turn!"

"I like the kind of person who can handle themselves... think on their feet."

"So you were ahead of me." -- "I don't know about ahead, but I've been behind you ever since you fried those mannequins."

"Don't make me say it out loud..." -- "... I can say it first, if that'll help."

"Nooooooope... five more minutes." -- "We were together all night." -- "Didn't count... I was sleepin'."

"Well, this is very serious" -- "IT IS!" -- "You, you destroyed a door." -- "Colonel, we're talking about a test on an armored vehicle, that will carry people into combat." -- "Right, but this door is property of--" -- "The shell barely penetrated the door." -- "okay, but now it's all bent out of shape. How are you gonna get it back on its hinges?" -- "I'LL BUY THE ARMY A NEW GODDAMN DOOR!"

"Sorry, I thought... I thought you were trying to buy something I'm not selling."

"I'm busy." -- "Too busy to look up?"

"You can't kill people just because you don't agree with them." -- "You see, that was the ONE point me and the doctors could never agree upon."

"Would you ever consider having a drink with an enlisted solider?" -- "Depends... does the enlisted soldier think I need one?" -- "What are they gonna do? Kick you out?"

"Thanks" -- "No problem, anytime."

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up-- one day it's gonna happen to you. Someday someone is gonna ask you, who is it? And a face is gonna jump to the front of your mind, and it's gonna completely sandbag you... I can't wait to watch!"

[to a peacefully sleeping person ] -- "Good moring, Mx. ___, this is your wake-up call. Please move your ass."

"I say we run for it" -- "Running isn't a plan, runnin's what you do when a plan fails!"

"... Normal Illinois, is that on the map?" -- "Yes, Sergeant, it is." -- "... is it normal in Normal?" -- "... Uneventful, I think, is the word."

"Now-- how many brahmin does it take to make a stampede? Is it like... three or more? Is there a minimum speed?" -- "Wish a stampede up your ass."

"I don't mind being a secret of yours."

[Right after THE BIG FUCKING KISS] ".... let's not make it a year before the next one, okay?"

"If we were serious about money, we'd quit being hired hands--" -- "Handymen! We are han-dee-men." -- "Oh whatever! We'd quit this and go find some real money."

"Please... don't go where I can't follow."

"Alone is fine! I can do alone, it's worrying after them that's got me all wound up!" -- "Have you considered that's because alone is NOT FINE and you don't wanna do it anymore?" -- "---!!"

"This is not the first time you've been here." -- "We've been down this road before, that is correct." -- "Several times, in fact." -- "I hadn't been keeping count."

"And you must be ___, I've heard all about you." -- "I deny everything."

"First time I saw you? I thought to myself, that's the kind of person BRICK WALLS jump outta the way of." -- "Figured you'd be safer behind me rather than in front of me?" -- "Damn right."

"Just keep looking at that beautiful sky; that's the sky that'll be over our roof when we're done." -- "What if we don't finish the roof? Then we can look at the sky all the time."

"Yeah, well... maybe a friend is what I need right now."

"Next thing you know the Feds will be at our door; Sorry, time to move out, Eminent Domain." -- "Down honey, down."

"Even a heat-seeking missile can miss a target." -- "... you taped so many hot-plates to the test target you could fry an egg at 20 feet, and it STILL missed by a mile."

"My dear, my darling, love of my life...." -- "What do you want?"

"What I mean to say is... you make here a better place to be. For me. Easier. Does that make sense?"

"Calm down, you make it sound like a war." -- "What do you people have against being prepared?!"

"This is not just a report, it's a deadly weapon." -- "Sir, an M-16 is a deadly weapon. A report is just a pile of paper, unless you plan to inflict a lot of extremely vicious paper cuts."

"Stupid son of a bitch, knocked himself out cold..." -- "Cold my ass, he's dead."

"Y'know, in baseball, a guy who hits .400 is consider pretty damn great." -- "In baseball the losing team isn't killed by their opponents."

"Hey... I love you. Did I tell you that today?"

This post is going online at 8 PM, June 24th, 2021, US Pacific time. The askbox will open for requests until 6 PM, June 25th, 2021, US Pacific Time. Get yours in now!

Arting will begin at 9 AM tomorrow morning, see you then! :D

-Loor

[cathrrrine]

RUN | Pietro x Reader

Originally from my Wattpad

CHAPTER 18: SAFE HOUSE

—

A/N: I hope you guys like this one ! I just wanted to add a little bit of fluff after all that angst-fest. Happy reading my loves! :)

———

"Enigma." I mumbled, the strange woozy feeling in my chest expanding as I shifted in my car seat to turn to Pietro.

"What?"

"I figured it out. I'm your enigma. Everyone has one." There was a lightness to my words as I said them and oddly enough, I didn't really mind. "You said you couldn't figure me out, therefore I'm your enigma."

I could see his hands on the wheel tighten just a little bit. The whole car ride, I'd been observing him. I just couldn't get his words out of my head.

You're driving me crazy, Y/N.

My head felt like it was about to explode by the sheer amount of force it took for me to figure out what he really meant. I felt...perplexed. I was wracking my entire brain out by trying to decipher the whole point of our previous conversation. Why did I drive him crazy? Why did he feel the need to tell me that?

Why did I feel like I should trust him?

"My enigma?" He scoffed, throwing a playful, cocky look my way. "You are nothing close to anything I'd call mine."

I rolled my eyes, "You know, it's no wonder you've got a head full of grey hair, you grouch."

"Hey!" He gasped, genuinely shocked at my comment. "I am most definitely not a grouch."

His accent made his reaction much better than I could've imagined. The way he rolled his R's made me laugh a little, so I copied it just for kicks, the letter teetering on the edge of my tongue. "Yep, a grouch would most definitely say that."

I scanned his face for any signs of annoyance, waiting to see if my words left any impression on him. Instead, I saw his expression grow heavier. I'd miss it if I blinked, but I swore I saw a flash of that same expression he wore when he confronted me before in my cell. Seriously, I have got to figure him out, and soon. Before I'm too vulnerable.

"We're here."

I turned around, looking out of the window to see the building I'd been dreading to return to. My heart felt like it had been dipped in acid and encased in lead. Suddenly, I knew why Pietro grew quiet.

Getting out of the facility had been fun, exhilarating almost. Steve had helped me escape just as he promised and left me with Pietro in the garage, handing him the car keys and giving him strict instructions to drive away while remaining incognito.

Pietro had a dazed look on his face then, part-confusion and part-anxiety, but I knew that we had one thing in similar; roguery in our veins. Pietro is a little troublemaker, I had mused as I eyed his way-too-giddy movements. He had no trouble following his Captain's orders, he was eager almost.

I told Steve that we could hide in an old safe house of mine, a tiny studio located somewhere in a sketchy town that was close to the facility so it was reachable by car, but far enough so that it wouldn't be a problem if any of his teammates were to come looking. At least we'd have enough time to escape if they did.

The last time I'd been here had been 2 years ago. Back when I thought I was still running from The Winter Soldier. Everything the Captain had revealed to me made me want to throw up. How else were you supposed to feel when someone told you that you'd been running and hiding for years, from a ghost? I felt like I'd been on an unprompted wild goose chase, except that instead of chasing the 'goose', I'd been chased by it. What a joke.

"You alright?"

Pietro raised an eyebrow, nothing but that disgusting kindness in his eyes. I wanted to strangle him right then and there. Was he offering me pity?

I threw him a half-hearted scowl, "Why wouldn't I be?"

"I'm just asking. This can't be easy for you, no?"

His words hit me like a truck, and the realisation that he wasn't offering me pity, but simply just inquiring, soon came after. It was an odd question to be asked. I'd rarely been offered that luxury, of someone caring enough to ask if you were alright or not. It felt weird to be on the receiving end of that kind of sincerity, something I thought only existed out of my own realm. Yet here I was, trying to figure out the answer to his question.

I shook my head in an effort clear my thoughts, sort of like an etch-a-sketch. "I've been through worse."

We entered the building quietly, ignoring the looks thrown our way from a few bystanders. It was a rather rundown building, just as I had remembered it to be. I'd never made company with any of the people who live here, because how could I have? What kind of shit assassin would do that?

"They must not be used to new faces, huh?" Pietro tried—and failed—to ignore the man eyeing us from our right, clearly uncomfortable with the unwanted staring.

"I'd assume not. It's a pretty small town."

Pietro cleared his throat, "I see."

He looked a little uneasy, shifting from foot to foot. I followed his line of gaze and oh my god, the man was still staring.

"What the fuck are you looking at?" I snarled. He scurried away immediately, eyes averting from us either in shock or in fear. Though it was most likely the latter, considering the way he kept looking back with wild eyes to see if we would chase him down.

I turned back to my speedster companion, and sure enough, he looked much better than he did before. "It's fine, he's just a creep."

He nodded, "I was never fond of creeps."

We climbed up the flight of stairs that lead to the studio apartment, silent the whole way up with Pietro taking in his surroundings and with me being a bit preoccupied with the thoughts swimming in my head. Memories from my past kicked in violently, and I tried to swallow them down.

"Is this it?" He said as I stopped in front of a tattered door with the number 42 on top of it, pointing to it with his right hand.

"Yep." I walked closer to the door, reaching up to the number 4 and trying to detach it from the wall. Apparently though, it was too high for me, sitting just at the tip of my fingers. Either someone had moved it higher, or I'd grown shorter since

Heels. I'd worn my goddamn heels when I last set this thing up. I'd have slapped myself by now if my hands weren't occupied.

Annoyed, I groaned and stood on the tip of my toes. Just a bit more.

"Here."

My breath caught in my throat as I felt his voice reverberating through his chest which was now level to my head. Pietro came up behind me with his taller stature, his height enabling him to reach for the 4 in less than a second, his hand brushing against mine in the process. I blinked, hard, trying to steady myself and grab hold of my thoughts. I felt my face grow hot, warmth spreading through my skin like fire.

I tried not to make it obvious, how much his skin contact had bothered me. I felt stupid for making such a big deal out of it, and even more so that it was caused by him. What the hell? My throat felt tight, so I cleared it with a cough and put on a neutral expression seamlessly.

He backed away as soon as he grabbed hold of the number, twirling it around his fingers with a playful, lopsided smile. Holy shit, I want to rip it off his face. Just punch the living shit out of him.

"Hmm, maybe you're not that useless after all." I scoffed.

He grinned, "Well, if the grouch hadn't been here, it would've taken you all day to reach for this thing."

"Huh, so you admit you are a grouch."

"I didn't—Whatever you say, gnome."

"Wow, look at you." I snickered. "Practicing sarcasm are we? Pray, do tell, was I your inspiration?"

He shook his head in defeat, then he flipped the 4 over, eyebrows meeting in the middle. "What is this anyway? Some sort of secret hidden in here?"

Classic topic changer.

"Yes," I snatched the sign from him. "A very important secret actually."

I turned the thing around and pressed hard on the back of the long vertical line with my nails, breaking the plastic cover. It gave in with a little bit of pressure, and I dug my fingers in to pull out the slender, metal object that I had hidden 2 years ago.

"Ah. The key." Pietro looked impressed.

"Smart, isn't it? It's an old trick that I stole from a woman in Amsterdam."

He moved closer, and I felt myself flinching a little, afraid my body would have the same reaction that it did just a few seconds ago. Luckily, he didn't notice how distressed I was.

"Why bother though, if you weren't going to keep the key with you? Why not just kick down the door or climb in through a window or something?"

There he goes again, with his perpetual rambling.

"We're 4 floors up idiot, climbing in through the window is too risky, people might see and I might fall and die, which is not very ideal, in case you haven't figured that out yet." I inserted the key into the lock and twisted it, hearing the clack of the latch and bolts as they moved.

"Plus, I just did it for fun. I never even knew if I'd come back here or if this building would even still be intact by the time that I did."

He didn't take up the trouble to reply, or even if he did, I didn't hear him. The moment the door opened and I stepped foot inside the room, I was immersed in the haze of my past. A version of my life that was drastically different to the one I had now.

My emotions were all over the place.

A cloud of dust covered the room from years of vacancy, our shoes creating imprints onto the floor. I was surprised no one had broken in for the whole 2 years. Somewhere in the back of my head though, the memory of me threatening the landlord popped up.

"If I come back and I find out that my house got fucked up, I won't hesitate to drive this knife through your chest."

It's a wonder how far a knife and few sharp words could get you.

"Looks like it needs a bit of vacuuming, just a bit. But that's just my opinion."

I fumbled around for something hard and chucked it at Pietro's head with full force, earning an 'Ow!' immediately after.

"What was that for?"

"I've been meaning to throw something at you for a while now." I shrugged, then continued to explore my previous home even further.

It was exactly as I left it, minus the accumulated bits of dirt and the herd of dust bunnies. I walked to the small kitchen space, opening the cabinets and finding the slightly dented kettle and the 2 mugs I had kept there, untouched. Then I fished around the drawer beneath it and eventually found the box of—hopefully unexpired—tea packets and some Sweet'N Low's.

My fingers clasped around the faucet knob and turned, waiting for a good minute for running water. "Come on, come on..."

After some violent sputtering and grumbling from the sink, out came the water flow. Yes! I cheered mentally.

Then I turned to the silver-haired grouch, gesturing to the tea packets I held between my fingers. "Care for some tea?"

He shrugged, "Only if you won't poison me."

taglist: @ifilwtmfc

[sasa-gay-yo]

Levi Reassuring You

Request: Here 

Summary: You weren’t a Scout. You weren’t talented in ODM. You’ve never killed anything in your life. You were so unlike her in everyway possible, and you knew Levi knew it too. Why did he pick you? 

Warnings: None, some kissin here and there 

You never knew why he liked you. You seemed to be the opposite of the people he surrounded himself with. You weren’t a Scout, you could barely kill a fly, and you lacked confidence in your ability to even lift a brick. Because you couldn’t rationalize Levi’s feelings for you, you always had those doubts in your mind. Not about him, but about yourself.

Those doubts were exaggerated every time you had to deliver a new round of uniforms or equipment to the Scouts HQ. You would sit there while your father bargained with Erwin, watching this new elite squad fly through the trees. Your eyes would mostly be on Levi, watching him expertly work the ODM gear, but they also trailed off to Petra who was always behind him. She would make jokes with him, talking about titan killing strategies, and was the first to volunteer to do anything for Levi. It made you feel like the lesser one in his life... and you hated that fact that there were two of you. 

On that particular day, the first mistake was allowing you and your father to eat dinner with them. Because you had made such a rushed order, Commander Erwin wished to give thanks in the only way he possibly could. You were even welcomed to sit at the officer’s table to talk about like inside the walls. Levi’s hand dropping underneath the table to gently stroke along your leg, letting you know that he was really there. However, the problem started off as a fun conversation, but soon turned into you seeing every possible fault in your own self. The from earlier in the day came full force. Even when Levi gripped your thigh, trying to get you to look at him, you ignored it. 

“So, (Y/F/N), what else do you do at home? Do you just sew our uniforms together?” It was a simple question from Squad Leader Hange, and it was cute for them to want to know more about your regular, normal life, but in your mind, you went over your hobbies. They killed titans and tried to save humanity in their free time, but you only read books, sometimes baked bread, and attended local commerce meetings with your father. The only thing outside of your normal routine was when Levi showed up to visit you in secret or when he would pull you along to the Scout HQ under the cover of the night. It made you seem so… so miniscule next to them.

“I just live a normal, city life in Trost. Just… normal, yeah.” You looked down to your hand that were sitting in your lap, disregarding Levi’s trying to get your attention so he could see what emotion was running through your eyes. You refused to look up at him for that reason. You didn’t want to talk about it, but you knew that if he saw a problem, he would strive to fix it. Another thing to add to your own downfall list. 

The table was composed of the most elite soldiers in all the Scout regiment, and your father who was lucky to retire out of it. Still, he could tell stories of fighting titans or Shadis that would interest the whole table. Anything you said, you could guess no one wanted to listen to, not even Levi who was subject to it all the time. After you had answered Hange’s question the way you did, there were no more asked to you. You didn’t see that it was because Levi glared at anyone who wanted to mention something to you. He’d seen how you reacted to Hange and knew you didn’t want to talk to anyone, so he was protecting you from that fate. You thought it was because they’d lost interest in you, so you sulked even further. Then, Levi took his hand off of you and that stared the spiral.

Did he find, when he visited you, that your conversation was boring? Were you boring to him? Was he now getting frustrated that you were showing off your plainness to every one else in his squad?

“Captain, when are we doing the obstacle course again? I just want to know how long I have to work up my skills to beat you.” You had missed the conversation they were having at the table, but she spoke up again. You’d witness the obstacle course today, the one where Petra was so close behind him. 

You liked Petra, you really did. She would always greet you and ask you about your day, sometimes even filling you in on the Scouts gossip, but there was always something stirring inside of you whenever she was near Levi. She would help him put his coat on, she was always first in line during their squads training, and before Erwin had offered you the seat next to Levi, she was the one sitting there. You then drew the conclusion that she must always sit there for dinner. More doubt. It wasn’t her fault for harvesting feelings for Levi when she had no idea you two were starting a relationship, but it still hurt.

Yet, Levi never did anything about it, that was the part that hurt the most. He never shrugged her away, not even when he knew you were looking.

It made you think. She was strong and smart and and elite fighter… why not her? Levi wouldn’t have to listen about your boring life in Trost when he could easily talk to her about expeditions or common interests. She was even in the same building as him and they saw each other every day. You were lucky to see Levi twice a week and that was him working hard to carve time out for you. If given the option to choose, you or her, who would he pick?

Obviously, you, dumbass. I already did, didn’t I? Levi’s voice went through your head. You looked at Petra again, laughing between Miche and Oluo. She was beautiful and pretty much perfect for Levi. Why you?

Levi noticed your distress at dinner from the first moment, but he chalked it up to being something about Hange’s tangent of whether or not titans have organs. They had just captured their first titan on the last expedition, and you didn’t know when or how to tell Hange to stop. Maybe you were getting asked too many questions. Levi knew that you didn’t like to talk about yourself that much and they were forcing you to do that since you finally got to stay for more than a thirty minute delivery. That’s why he glared at them to stop. Levi had to do it for you. When dinner was over, you and your father both got up to leave, but since it was late Erwin offered two rooms till the morning. You father had also been drinking, reminiscing too much about his times with Shadis, so to Levi it was logical and welcomed. He wouldn’t have to go get you tomorrow, and you might be able to sneak away to his office for tea or something more. It had been a while since you and Levi were alone together. He remembered the last time he’d snuck away to see you, thinking your father was out at Mitras picking up the textiles for their uniforms, your Aunt was staying over. 

“I can drive the cart back, Commander, it’s fine. You don’t have to kick two people out of their rooms for us.” You waived Erwin off, but he still continued to pushed that you stayed. You knew that Erwin was also offered a look into your relationship, so he probably thought he was helping Levi as well. He argued that the horses were already tired and in the stables, and by the time you have left to Trost, the night guard might be too drunk to let you in. Everything would be better if you waiting in the morning.

Truthfully, you wanted to stay, but you also didn’t want to be in this atmosphere anymore. However, it seemed that Erwin wouldn’t let you, regardless of any excuse you made. He was too much of a gentleman to let a woman go off at night with her inebriated father. He was also set on helping Levi see you. So, you stayed.

Levi wanted you to stay too and was shocked when you had declined Erwin four or five times before you caved. Something was really wrong. You always liked when he took you to the HQ, and now you two wouldn’t have to sneak up and down the stairs evading night watch. What had happened over dinner that changed your attitude? It couldn’t have been just the questions. When you were packing up the boxes in the afternoon, he was able to sneak you away into the training forest to have some alone time and a heated exchange against a tree. He had evidence of that hiding just below his shirt collar. Now, you didn’t even want to stand near him with Erwin was leading you to the extra rooms.

You put your father to bed first, and then went right into the room next to yours. Even if Erwin was still there, Levi almost pulled you to his office so he could see why you were acting that way towards him. It infuriated him he didn’t know what was wrong so he could fix it. He wanted his normal seamstress back. The one that was able to make him laugh for the first time since Isabel and Furlan’s deaths. The one who always hiccupped after he’d kissed your breath away.

“If you need anything, I’m sure Levi will be ever willing to help. His room is just down that hall connected to his office. If it’s urgent, you can wake me up too.” Erwin smiled at you and you returned a fake one back before closing the door to the room. Levi and Erwin just stood there for a second, before Erwin turned to walk back to his office. 

“I don’t think she’s going to let you in tonight. She seemed different at dinner.” Erwin said over his shoulder to Levi who clenched his jaw at the commander. 

“You don’t think I noticed?” He spat back. He was regretting telling him about you two. This was personal business, he didn’t need to make comments about this apparent “fight” you were having. Erwin just walked away as Levi stood there, staring at the dark wood of the door. When were you going to open it for him?

You were just there sitting on the bed, yet to dress into the gown they gave you. Your mind was sabotaging itself, thinking about everything you’d seen Levi and Petra do together. Thinking about how, if you counted the pros and cons, it was Petra over you. It was anyone over you really. You were so boring compared to Levi that it didn’t make sense as to why he was with you. You weren’t skilled in anything other than sewing, unlike him, who was always the best at whatever he did. You couldn’t kill anything, much less a Titan, and you cried at the drop of a hat. Petra, she was skilled, on his elite team of Scouts, she had killed over fifty titans, and you were sure she was strong. Strong in body and in mind. She probably had so much to talk to him about, too. You’d seen her talk to him. With you, he’d just sit there, every time he visited you, a cup of tea in his hand, not saying a word. Was it always because he just couldn’t find anything to say back? You huffed, laying down on your bed.

What did he even see in you when he came into the shop that day? 

You had given him the wrong size uniform, and there weren’t anymore to go around, so he had to trudge his way into Trost and into your shop. His gaze almost scared you as he shoved the too small garment in your hands. You were sure you got his measurements right, but he said the pants were too tight and the cape wasn’t the proper length.

“If you sit here and wait for a bit, I can take out the pants and then make a new cape quickly. Actually, it you’d like to go get lunch, when you come back I can have it ready.”

“No, I’ll sit. I need to make sure you do it right this time.”

Even then, he met you only because of an error you made. You found the order measurements and had given him the wrong pants size. The length of the cape was just a personal preference, but you made sure to write it down on his file. When he sat there in your shop, you talked to him about the most random things to fill your time and the awkwardness he left by staring at you. Even then, he rarely interrupted you or talked unless you prompted him with a question. If you were that boring from the get go, why did he come back more and more until you found yourselves kissing outside of Trost on the grass for the first time?  

“(Y/F/N), it’s me.” You didn’t move to open the door, knowing that he would soon let himself in. A few seconds later, the door opened a bit, the light from the candles lining the outside hallway filtering in. He craned his head around the door, seeing you laying on the bed, and quickly shuffled in, leaning on the wall looking down at you. You turned the other way, on your side, so he could only stare at your back. This made him sigh, but he didn’t move from his place on the wall.

Truthfully, he didn’t know what went wrong for you to ignore him like this. Nothing had ever happened like this before. You would always greet him with a smile, pulling him into your body whenever you could. You would talk to him about your day or week and show him everything you were working on with passion in your eyes. His mind only went to one thing and one thing only: Did you not like him anymore? What had he done? He couldn’t let you try and end things without an explanation.

When Levi first let himself go into your arms, he told himself that if you wanted to end things with him, he’d accept it, no matter how much he hated it. He knew how hard it would be on you to be with him. He’s always gone, always working, and always dancing around with death. He fell for you partly because you didn’t care about that. You didn’t care about how many he’s killed or how broken he was inside. Whenever he went to your shop and sat on his chair, you made him feel important, not because he was a Captain, but because he was a human being. You made him feel human. You gave his world light, but he also knew that he was adding darkness into yours. If it would get to be too much for you, because he loved you, he’d let you go. Levi never wanted to hurt you. So, now that you were hurt, he was preparing for the worst.

“What’s wrong?” He tried to let his voice soften out so you knew he wasn’t upset. Something stirred in you when you heard how soft he was trying to be. It hurt, for some reason, they way he tried to twist and turn himself to react to you.

“Why do you like me?” Mistake number two. You knew Levi had problems expressing himself in that area. He either didn’t say anything, or rushed into something he had no idea how to finish. It took months of you having conversations for him to be comfortable saying your first name, but as soon as you went on a picnic with him, he had you pushed against the grassy meadow outside of Trost, lips locked with yours. Maybe it was the same with letting you go. He didn’t know how to tell you that he didn’t like you anymore.

“What?”  Levi was shocked at your question. Did he really have to tell you? Did he not show you daily how much you meant to him? How you made him feel? Every time he was with you, he had to hold you in some way, whether it be your hand or just touching your arm, you grounded him. When you read to him, he would lay so that he could see your face, reacting to the story and the characters actions in time with the words exiting your mouth. One time, you got so mad, you threw the book to the opposite side of the bed. He’d never had such side-splitting laughter erupt from him before. He thought you saw that. Witnessed the same devotion as he had. Where did he lose you?

“Petra… she’s beautiful, smart, strong, tactical. She’s an amazing soldier and she has confidence. Tonight, at dinner, she kept talking to you and challenging you in training. She’s a Scout and part of your world, but I know nothing about being a Scout or about titans. Why not her?” You could hear his breath catch in his throat. Had you caught him? You curled up in a tighter ball, trying to push down the tears welling in your throat. You felt him sit down next to you, but you didn’t turn around. You didn’t want to face him when he told you the things swirling in your mind. 

Petra. There it was. It was after she challenged Levi to the obstacle course that your feel completely silent. He could pinpoint it now. Even though Petra was a top soldier, he had only seen her as family like the other Scouts. They were apart of his life, but not to the same degree you were. If anything, you were what he lived for. They’re the ones who he helped and who helped him live. They were two different relationships. 

He put one hand on your back, “I don’t like Petra like that. She’s a comrade in arms.” You nodded once at his words, but they didn’t make you feel any better. He wasn’t denying anything you had said previous. When what he said didn’t seem to help, he racked his brain, trying to find something to say. You were the one who said all these things to him, not the other way around. He loved you through action, not through words.

“Do you remember the one time I held you while using ODM through the forest? Your first time off the ground?” You didn’t move, but you just nodded once again. How could you forget? You were terrified for the first thirty minutes, holding on to him for dear life while he just trusted the two wires to hold him up as he flipped around and around showing you, first hand, the skill he possesses from years of using the illegal ODM gear. Only when he taught you how to use the contraption, and went a whole lot slower through the trees, did you become comfortable in his arms. It was fun, floating through the air, if only the reasoning for it wasn’t to kill titans.

“When I held you in my arms, the first time, you almost choked me to death because you weren’t used to it. I couldn’t see your face since you had it buried in my neck… but it made me realize why it had to be you. Your pure reaction to the ODM, I never... I’ve never experienced someone react like that. They’re either hiding the fact they want to throw up, or they already know how to use to ODM, so it’s second nature to them. Your emotions were so loud, so open. You screamed at me to go slower,” a low chuckle went through his body, and that’s when you started to open up a little bit, “Then, once you realized I wasn’t going to drop you and you started enjoying it, the look in your eyes was like nothing I’d ever seen before either. You smiled, wide, and when you threw your hands up like you were on some children’s ride… that’s when I fell in love with you.” You froze and so did he. It was the first time he’d said it. The first time either of you said it. You never thought it would be Levi to say those words. It made your eyes widen and fill with tears for a different reason, but you didn’t interrupt him. You wanted to hear what else he had to say.

When he continued, his heart was racing, realizing what he just said. He had never said that to anyone before. He just got ahead of himself, not caring where he placed his words, and his true feelings came out. That’s what happens when he’s with you.

“You made me feel like it was my first day ever using ODM. Your eyes wide with wonder and excitement just made me feel so free. I don’t think I’d felt like that in years; carefree, swinging through those damn trees like that. Every time I do it now for training or for killing titans, it’s never the same. It’s the same with everything else, (Y/F/N). You give my life such emotion that when I’m not with you, it doesn’t feel the same. It loses color. Meaning. I don’t want to be here, I want to be in that green chair in your shop, just listening to what you have to say forever. No one here, not Petra or Hange or Erwin or, I don’t fucking know, or Miche, has ever made me feel like that. I’ve never wanted to stay with someone forever, just sitting, wasting the world away. You make me forget that titans exist. You make me forget that I’m a Captain or a Scout. You make me forget that a world other than the room around us exists. With you, I’m Levi. That’s… that’s why I love you. You make me feel alive. You make me feel like I’m truly me, whatever or whoever that is. I-“ You sat up quickly, pulling him towards you to give him a bone-crushing kiss. The way he just expressed everything to you was mind numbing. Levi never said things like that, not if he didn’t truly mean it. You knew how much he was digging in his heart for these words. He could taste the tears that mingled in between your lips, and when he pulled back, your emotion hit him again. Every time your eyes would flicker with some feeling projecting through, he felt like it was hitting him tenfold. You made everything so vivid to him, so much so, that he had to lean over and wipe off the tears from your face because he couldn’t stand it.

“You…Y-you’re not bored with me? T-that I’m just normal?” He rolled his eyes, grabbing the back of your head to pull it towards his chest. You listened to hear his heart beating, noting that it had sped up from it’s normal pace. You grabbed his shirt, trying to get as close as possible to him.

“You’re not boring, but you’re not normal… to me. Normal people annoy me and make me feel nothing. I don’t think I’ve ever experienced what I feel around you with anyone else. You aren’t normal to me. You’re…you’re special to me. It doesn’t matter that you don’t kill titans or wear a green cape, in fact I like it that way. I can pull away from that when I’m with you. When I’m with you, I don’t focus on anything other than you. I couldn’t stand to be with any of those brats outside, they’d make me want to yell at them to run laps.” You laughed a little into his chest and he played with your hair as you started to feel better. You were stupid, you knew it. If Levi didn’t want you, he wouldn’t be near you. He wasn’t the type of person to stick around someone he didn’t like.

“I think I fell in love you with you when you kissed me in the rain that one day. You told me I looked beautiful in the rain.” He snorted, trying to hide the flush on his cheeks as you made him face his romantic actions. Like he said, when he was with you, he was in his own little world. Sometimes, he forgot what he even said or did until you brought it back up to him and he started stuttering. If the brats found out that Captain Levi was a sap, he’d never live it down. He’d only be like that in front of you.

“And you thought that I had an interest in Petra? Even though I say things like that to you?” You laughed a bit again, the sting of dinner almost completely wearing off.

“I just… At dinner, it just emphasized how much I’m not like you. I just thought that…if I couldn’t talk about killing titans or something that you were unint-“

“Do you know how much I have to talk about titans in a single day? I’d much rather hear you ramble on about how hard it is to dye something dark blue. You will never be uninteresting to me, (Y/F/N). And if you think that you have no skill, just remember that every member in the Survey Corps is wearing something you made when they use ODM. You’re the one who makes the straps that allows us to do our job. Who cares if you can’t use ODM? I couldn’t use it without you.” You blushed as he whispered that into your ear. It did something to you, him saying how he needed you to preform the skill that he was famous for. It was definitely the ego boost you needed.

“You said you loved me?” You looked up to him, the slightly annoyed look plastered on his face again. You were going to make him face his emotions again right after he gave you such a display.

“Yes, I did.” You sighed and grabbed his check, pulling it. He made a noise in protest.

“Are you feeling that emotion now?” He pulled your hand off of him, holding your wrists together so you couldn’t attack him anymore. When he looked at you, he still smiled though. You were looking up at him, the spark back in your eyes. Even if it was to terrorize him, he could look at you like this all day. In fact, he would do it all night. He already got his daily 3-hour sleep, so he could stay up and look at you.

He leaned down and kissed you again, pulling back only a few centimeters to look in those eyes again. God, it was so addicting.

“I love you, (Y/F/N).” Your expression morphed again into one that made his heart race. You always looked like this after he kissed you, that’s why he’d do it so much and at such random times. He wanted to see you like this, looking up at him like he was the only one who mattered. This is what he meant by you making him feel alive. Your expression told him he was the only one. You didn’t need to use your words to reassure him.

“I love you, too, Levi. Even if I doubt myself sometimes.” He nodded, leaning in again. Before he could kiss you again, and before he went back to his normal, semi-stoic self, he let out one last line of reassurance. He wanted you to know, in all seriousness, that if he wasn’t going to end up with you, he wasn’t going to end up with anyone. Not with how you make him feel.

“There’s no reason to doubt how I feel about you. You’re the only one for me. Always.”

xx I hope you like it! This one was hard to write haha 

[kitkatopinions]

The ethics in RWBY are really weird. I mean, I’m not a professor of ethics and I don’t know much past what I’ve seen on Wikipedia and the Good Place (such a great show,) but it’s so weird to see a show that seems to switch between virtue ethics and consequentialism at random.

(Virtue ethics) may be identified as the one that emphasizes the virtues, or moral character, in contrast to the approach that emphasizes duties or rules (deontology) or that emphasizes the consequences of actions (consequentialism). Suppose it is obvious that someone in need should be helped. A utilitarian will point to the fact that the consequences of doing so will maximize well-being, and a virtue ethicist to the fact that helping the person would be charitable or benevolent.

Of course, it’s a lot more complicated and in-depth than just that, but I’m not going to get into specifics (again, I’m not qualified to do that lol.) But let’s look at some examples of these two ethical beliefs in RWBY.

“Stealing is wrong no matter what,” sounds like virtue ethics at play, and that’s how Blake saw things. That was one of the reasons that she left the White Fang, that was always framed as one of the many things that made it so they were villains, that had to be taken out. Blake regretted her acts of theft in her early life no matter how justified they were. The message is that stealing is always wrong even when you’re stealing from oppressors.

“Stealing is justified in circumstances where you feel you have no other choice,” sounds like consequentialism, if your actions are justified and have good consequences, they’re good. This is put into practice when the group illegally stole the airplane in Argus (although this is actually badly portrayed consequentialism, considering that they didn’t need to do that, but I think we’re intended to perceive it as necessary, but I’ll keep talking about that later.)

“Violence is wrong, even when it’s precautionary or reactionary,” sounds like virtue ethics, and once again, that’s directed towards the White Fang. Despite being oppressed for centuries, even Sienna’s more minor violence is framed as completely wrong, and the Faunus are lectured about how they need to stop committing acts of violence if they want equality. The Ace Ops fighting Team RWBY is meant to be perceived as wrong, despite the fact that Team RWBY had broken the law, proven themselves untrustworthy, and were trying to stop them and Ironwood from doing something that would save people.

“Violence is justified in circumstances where it’s precautionary or reactionary,” sounds like consequentialism. Since the White Fang is hurting others, it doesn’t matter what their goal is (Faunus rights,) it’s totally fine to rip them to shreds, throw them off moving trains, even kill, etc. Since Team RWBY thought it was wrong to move Atlas, they were perfectly justified in beating up the Ace Ops for trying to arrest them. Qrow is perfectly justified in fighting Clover for the same reason.

“You always need to be honest, no matter if you don’t know if you can trust someone or not and no matter if you have good reasons to lie,” sounds like virtue ethics. This is applied to Ozpin in the show, his lying is deemed one hundred percent wrong, full stop, no excuses. He isn’t treated with any sympathy and has to apologize, which is seriously and begrudgingly accepted. Our main characters forcing his secrets out of him is framed as right, their angry responses are framed as totally justified. The message is clear. Lying and mistrusting is wrong. Honesty and trust is right.

“Lying is understandable and even right if you think you have good reason to lie and if you think you can’t trust someone, and Ruby was right about Ironwood, therefore her lying was fine,” sounds like consequentialism. Ruby’s lying is framed as reasonable and understandable. She didn’t have to be honest because she was reacting cautiously instead, putting a virtue on the back burner because she thought being honest might hurt people and wasn’t sure if James could be trusted - as in, she acted in mistrust. Although Yang suggests this was wrong, the show quickly hastens to tell us that Ruby was very right, having Yang walk back on her statements, and having Ironwood turn evil. The message is clear. Lying and mistrusting should be done if you think it will hurt less people. Honesty and trust aren’t always good.

“It’s never okay to willingly sacrifice a life, you must do whatever you can to save everyone no matter the cost,” sounds like virtue ethics. This is the central conflict between Team RWBY and Ironwood in volume 7. Ruby and co considered it wholly wrong to sacrifice the remaining people of Mantle in order to save Atlas and the Mantle citizens already evacuated, they considered the idea unacceptable and we (the audience) are meant to believe they’re entirely right and that Ironwood is - with this action - turning into a villain. The Ace Ops are also seen as wrong for wanting to destroy the whale even though they know that Team JORY is still inside it, because despite the fact that it would save thousands upon thousands, it would result in the deaths of four people.

“You have to do what is right, even if it requires sacrifice,” sounds like consequentialism. Pyrrha goes to fight Cinder despite knowing she can’t win, which is framed as heroic and good. Jaune, Nora, and Ren leave their mission defending the non-evacuated people of Mantle in order to try and rescue Oscar. Our group of protagonists trap a city full of civilians in Salem’s direct line of fire and cause many soldiers to die so that they can try and evacuate the citizens of Mantle. The show frames this as the right choice that the team made in the pursuit of saving everyone they could, and the dead soldiers are a sacrifice that the protagonists couldn’t avoid and therefore aren’t responsible for.

“Being a good person who tries is the most important thing,” This feels like virtue ethics. This is applied to Team RWBY and Ruby particularly all throughout season eight. What really matters is that is that they’ve been trying. What really matters is that they’ve had good intentions. What really matters is they’ve stuck to their guns, stuck to their moral code. The morality of their actions is judged by who they are, what virtues they embody, and what they intended. Ruby is constantly assured by the people around her that she hasn’t really done anything wrong because she’s a believer, she’s kind, she’s brave, she’s optimistic, she’s well-intentioned... She - and we as the audience - are assured that she was still good, even if nothing she did was effective, even if nothing she did even helped people This is also applied to Robyn. She might steal from the government, start fights, and not fix the wall with her stolen resources, but she has good intentions and wants to help, so she’s a good person.

“Your intentions and effort aren’t important, what matters is what you do and if it helps people.” This feels like consequentialism. It’s obviously applied to Ironwood - It doesn’t matter that he’s trying to save Atlas and the evacuated people of Mantle, it still doesn’t excuse what he did even pre-bomb threat. Hacking Penny, shooting the councilman, shooting Oscar, all of that is treated as horrible in the narrative whether or not he’s doing it to try to save thousands upon thousands of lives. Even the things he was doing in V7 were considered not good enough because they weren’t helping enough people. But it also applies to the White Fang yet again. Sienna Kahn might’ve had good intentions (ending Faunus oppression,) but her actions are judged by the harm they do to others. Ilia might’ve had good intentions (again, ending Faunus oppression,) but her actions were considered firmly bad and she had to decide to change her ways in order to be redeemed. On top of this, let’s add Whitley to the pile. Whitley is treated dismissively and coldly by Weiss, but then when he does something good that helps people, Weiss is affectionate with him and starts treating him well. 

This is all very contradictory and weird. It doesn’t matter if you lean more towards virtue ethics or consequentialism, the story keeps waffling between the two and expects its audience to do the same. When they want Team RWBY to do something that might be considered wrong in the terms of virtue ethics (stealing, lying, using violence, etc,) they use consequentialism to justify it, but whenever they want Team RWBY to be morally superior to the people around them even if those people aren’t evil (Ironwood, Oz, Ilia,) they use virtue ethics to do that. Stories that include both as points of contention between characters, but both are framed as justifiable can exist and can be really good, but that’s not what we’re given. Stories that make it clear that they prefer one over the other can exist, but that’s not what we’re given either. RWBY is full of whiplash moments, where you have to go “Wait, wasn’t this framed as wrong just an episode ago?” and “Wait, wasn’t this framed as right and justified just an episode ago?” Because RWBY as a show doesn’t bother to believe in either of them. RWBY as a show is only concerned with saying what they can to make the protagonists look good, which is hard.

When you look at it, they’re bad at being consequentialists.

Let’s look at the first relevant consequentialist action I noted, where I used the example of stealing the Atlas ship to establish that the protagonists considered stealing justified and necessary, therefore morally sound. This was not only avoidable (Cordovin had given them the option of sending Weiss through and she could’ve contacted Winter as soon as her scroll was able to reach her,) but it caused a dangerous Grimm attack. As far as I know, no civilians were hurt. However, this was still an avoidable act of theft that caused negative consequences. Looking at them trapping Atlas is even messier. They do it to save the remaining people of Mantle, putting the people of Atlas (and the evacuated Mantle citizens) at risk so they can save the most people despite the soldiers lining up to die facing Salem and the possibility of Grimm getting in the city of Atlas and killing civilians before they can finish the evacuation. But you quickly realize that they literally can’t evacuate the people still in Mantle because they have no resources to do so. Then they start moving the remaining people of Mantle to the Crater where they won’t freeze to death (logical,) and JORY and the HH start trying to defend them (logical,) but then they don’t send Penny to move Atlas. They know that they can’t evacuate the people in Mantle to Atlas, have a temporary solution to the cold, and know they aren’t going to get more help in defending the civilians in their care and must take care of it themselves. But they continue to keep Atlas trapped there despite knowing that the consequence might be thousands dying. Looking at launching Amity and sending out the broadcast is even messier than that. The broadcast is ill-planned, sloppy, confusing, and hits several of the beats of Cinder’s broadcast, which kick started the Fall of Beacon. This could have terrible consequences in a world where the Grimm are drawn to negativity. People could panic, it could launch Vacuo (the last remaining fully functioning kingdom) into a state of emergency, it could cause people to lose all hope in the establishments or the Hunters themselves, it could make people go out looking for ‘maidens’ to help them. And no one should be able to just travel to help Atlas within a couple of days anyway, which Ruby seems to fully understand at times in how she frames things, but she also asks for help that logic says can’t come. This was something that might endanger people and cause mass panic and Grimm attacks, that didn’t actually do much good. In terms of consequentialism, this was a failure, this wasn’t the Right thing to do.

But when you look at it, they’re bad at virtue ethics too.

Of course, there’s the obvious. They lie, they mistrust, they steal, they’re violent. They point their weapons at Qrow in V6, Weiss points her weapon at Whitley, an untrained teenage civilian, Weiss throws a man in a dumpster for being anti-Faunus to Blake, Qrow punches a teenage body for lying to him about something important. But there’s also the fact that in V8, Ruby and Weiss and Blake don’t do much to help anyone. Ruby sends out her hopeful sounding message that could do very little (if logic means anything in this world,) and then sits in a mansion drinking tea, waiting for Nora to recover. Of course this is wrong from a consequentialist mind frame, the consequence of sitting around doing nothing when you can help save people is that those people might die. But from a virtue ethics standpoint... This action is selfish, maybe even cowardly. Ruby is meant to be selfless and brave, and remember that she’s the one who made it so Atlas civilians and the evacuated people of Mantle couldn’t escape, and then despite the fact that she’s a powerful fighter with a rare super power that can take out tons of Grimm at once, Ruby sits in a mansion and despairs that no one is coming to save her. Look, I’ve heard every excuse. It doesn’t matter if she’s wanted by the Atlas police. It doesn’t matter if she’s trying to take care of her friend. It doesn’t matter if she has no plan. The virtues Ruby is supposed to embody like kindness, bravery, resolve and selflessness would dictate that all of that has to take a backseat when she can save human lives.

This is a big reason why I’m so frustrated with RWBY. They keep waffling between these two conflicting ideas of what’s right and what’s wrong, and they’re failing to make our heroes properly fit into either category. They just then tell us that they fit. They always do what’s right for the most people and don’t look behind the curtain to see them fail to do just that. They always follow their virtues and don’t look behind the curtain to see them make excuses over and over for themselves while they expect everyone else to adhere to the standards they won’t reach for.

And honestly, fans do the same thing the show does, which is one reason why it’s so frustrating to talk to mega-stans that won’t recognize the main casts flaws while they refuse to see that Oz deserved better or that Ironwood wasn’t evil pre-end of volume 7. “Of course Team RWBY lied to Ironwood, they didn’t know if they could trust him!” “Whether or not Oz knew if he could trust them, he never should’ve lied to them.” They’ll say these things even sometimes in the same posts or comments and not even realize the problem. The show and the fans will use anything and any justification to pretend that Team RWBY was right and inculpable, but they’ll use anything and any justification to make anyone who opposes them - friend or foe - seem entirely in the wrong and at fault. That’s why Oz apologized to them, but they didn’t apologize back even though they treated him horribly. The show runners don’t care what Team RWBY did wrong, they’ve already jumped through all the mental hoops to pretend they were right.

Looking at Team RWBY through the lens of virtue ethics, they fail to meet a good standard, and looking at Team RWBY through the lens of consequentialism, they still fall short. And the show needs to stop acting like they’re inherently better than the people around them when they’re not. The show writers are using the excuses of consequentialism and virtue ethics whenever they think it can distract us from the fact that behind their fancy feel good words, they don’t know how to write good protagonists.

[morganaseren]

WIP Meme (Warden Inquisitor Niamh/Warden Bethany)

Tagged by: @illusivesoul Many thanks!

Tagging: @this-is-something-idk-what, @noeldressari, @jellydishes, @w-h-4-t  As usual, I suck at telling who has or hasn’t been tagged yet.

So this WIP is from prompt #3 I made off this list. It doesn’t tie into the other Warden Niamh/Warden Bethany AU I’ve already written; this is something wholly separate. No knowledge of it is needed to read this.

Granted, this is a much rougher draft than what I’d normally post here, but given I’m already more than a month behind on updating OtSttCA, I thought you guys would appreciate the treat. :)

Things you might want to know:

As with any AU where Niamh is a Warden, she’s the one who undertakes the Dark Ritual with Morrigan in order to spare anyone from being sacrificed once the Archdemon is slain. Through magic, Kieran is born as a result of their union. While both women carry a great deal of respect for one another, they aren’t and were never in a romantic relationship although there’s gonna be a whole separate AU for that once I get around to writing it.

Niamh is the Warden-Constable for Ferelden while her sister Saoirse is the Warden-Commander and Hero of Ferelden. Saoirse and Leliana are married sometime after the end of the Blight.

As a result of going on the Deep Roads expedition with her sister, Bethany contracts the taint and has to undergo the Joining in order to save her life. She is transferred to the Fereldan branch of the Grey Wardens by Stroud not long afterward.

Niamh and Bethany are in an established relationship by the time the events of Inquisition begins.

While Niamh would normally be off searching for the cure by then, I'm just going to headcanon that she and Morrigan weren’t able to find a suitable lead in their research until much later—enough that they start hearing about the mass disappearances of Wardens across Ferelden and Orlais.

Out of concern, Niamh and Saoirse convince the remainder of their comrades (except for Bethany obviously) to head toward Weisshaupt for help, but Niamh senses that's enough wrong about the situation that she also tells them to journey there in secret. Vigil’s Keep is pretty much closed down at this point until they can figure out what’s going on.

Niamh and Bethany head out toward the Hinterlands to follow up on reports of some Warden sightings in the area. It's when they're stopped in the Crossroads area (where you meet Mother Giselle) that Niamh has Bethany to ask the villagers for any leads while she heads up to the Temple of Sacred Ashes to follow up on a tip there. The usual stuff happens, and she ends up waking up in Haven's dungeons, where she gets interrogated by Cassandra.

Honestly, this follows pretty closely to how OtSttCA unfolds as far as the major decisions being made within it goes. However, because she wasn’t in self-exile for a decade, Niamh’s a lot more laidback and confident in her ability to lead, especially with Bethany by her side.

Along that same vein, Bethany is also more self-assured in her abilities as a mage now that she no longer has to fear hiding from Templars. As such, she’s much quicker to speak about what’s on her mind rather than bottle them up as she used to in the past. She confronts Cassandra like an absolute badass several times during the beginning of the story in defense of her lover, which you can check out below the cut with the rest of the content. ;)

Like in her canon world state, Niamh isn't treated well when she’s imprisoned. The guards merely know that she's a mage, so they're operating under the assumption that she caused the explosion at the Conclave. It doesn't help that Niamh's been essentially undercover to search for the missing Wardens, so she's not wearing her usual uniform to signify her status. Cassandra does her whole intimidating interrogation as per usual when Bethany—in all her Warden regalia—bursts in with Leliana.

---

"She leaves with me," she leveled at the Seeker coldly before turning to Leliana with a deep frown. “Why did you not put a stop to this?”

“I arrived here at the same time as you. I didn’t know she was here until she was already imprisoned.”

Niamh couldn't help but chuckle under her breath, utter relief filling her. “I think you may invited utter ruination upon your heads with those two."

Cassandra frowned. "What? Why?"

“What do you mean why?” she parroted with a roll of her eyes, unimpressed with what she had seen of the woman and her colleagues thus far. "Leliana’s my sister-in-law, and the Warden next to her is my fiancée, whom—might I add—you've actually succeeded in making angry.” The corners of her lips turned up into a languid smile. “Not an easy feat, and not a fate I would normally wish upon anyone.”

“Hush,” Bethany muttered as she brushed past Cassandra—all but shoving her aside with a pointed shoulder—as she knelt at Niamh’s side to begin healing the wounds she’d received from her captors. All the soldiers began backing away uneasily, especially as Leliana walked alongside her. “I’m already upset that you sent me down to the Crossroads while you went up to the Conclave alone.”

“It was the easiest way of scoping out the area," Niamh defended even as she sheepishly shrank back beneath her lover’s glare. "If the individuals we were searching for were still down in the village, you would have seen them, and if they were up at the Temple…Well, I suppose that’s a moot point now, given what our new acquaintances have just revealed to me.”

“Do you remember seeing anything at all?” Leliana asked then in concern.

“I can’t recall much of anything before the explosion.” Niamh admitted with a frown. “I thought I remembered someone screaming, but then there’s just... nothing.”

“And...” Leliana gestured toward her hand. “That mark?”

She shrugged as much as she was able to, especially given her heavy shackles. “It certainly wasn’t there when I went to the Temple.”

“What is going on here?” Cassandra demanded then, perhaps confused as to why their supposed prisoner had proven so much more forthcoming with Leliana than anyone else thus far. 

“You’ve met my wife before, yes? This is her younger sister Niamh Cousland. She is also the Constable of the Grey here in Ferelden, Cassandra,” Leliana stated gravely. “While the Wardens may not regularly involve themselves in politics, Niamh’s high enough up their chain of command that this country’s branch would fight to the death to get her back, and that’s not even involving what Saoirse herself will do once she finds out her sister's been hurt.” She rubbed the bridge of her nose wearily. “Not to mention the Teyrn of Highever…”

---

After the demons upon the frozen lake had been defeated, Niamh felt the brush of a warm hand in the crook of her elbow gently pulling her back before all she could see was Bethany’s back as her lover marched right up toward Cassandra, heedless of the obvious height difference between them.

"Point your sword at her again, Seeker! Kindly test my patience right now, and see what happens!"

Niamh was mildly amused when Cassandra actually appeared to be a bit startled and had to move back a step so as to not accidentally stab the woman. The Seeker’s dark brows furrowed in confusion. "Are... Are you threatening me?"

"Only because you’ve threatened her repeatedly!” Bethany scowled. “Niamh's very life is in danger so long as that portal in the sky exists; she has no reason to put yours in harm's way. She’s made it more than abundantly clear she’s willing to cooperate even after the mistreatment she received from you and your colleagues." Amber eyes narrowed, and despite their bright depths, there was little mistaking the ice within them. "I haven’t, however, and I’ve no reason to if you’re going to blatantly ignore your own words to the contrary simply because she’s a mage."

Cassandra sheepishly sheathed her weapon. "I’m—"

"If you ever think of drawing a sword on her again, your friendship with Leliana or no, I swear it will be the last time you ever draw breath," Bethany spat, tilting her chin up defiantly. "I’ve lost enough. I will not lose her too." She turned then to hold out her hand for Niamh, allowing the first bit of tenderness to enter her expression as she called out to her. "My love..."

Niamh chuckled quietly even as she weaved her fingers through Bethany’s. “Still so quick to defend me?”

Her lover smiled. “Always.”

Afterward, Cassandra was left to follow behind the two women, who proceeded to lead the rest of the way up the mountain.

"I did tell you not to make her angry," Niamh quipped to Cassandra later upon reaching the first outpost, grinning when she earned a soft sound of disgruntlement.

---

Nothing had really prepared Bethany for the sight that greeted them upon reaching the Temple of Sacred Ashes.

There were so many bodies scattered across the immense crater, expressions twisted in permanent states of terror as they tried to guard themselves against a danger beyond all earthly imagining. Horrified with such evidence of the Breach’s power, it was then that she realized that if Niamh hadn’t somehow received the Mark, she likely would have—

"Bethany?"

She jerked in place, turning to see her lover’s concerned eyes watching her.

"It's nothing,” she mustered up with a weak smile. “I'm right behind you." 

Bethany saw, however, that Niamh couldn’t be convinced, as was evident in the tender way the other woman had taken hold of her hand. Niamh said nothing else, as was always her way. She never pressed her to offer anything more than she was ready for. She sighed.

"I should have been there with you," Bethany murmured at last, looking at the strange mark still glowing upon her lover’s palm. It was nothing that even with all her healing magic can hope to fix, but Niamh merely shook her head.

"No.” She brought Bethany’s hand up to her lips to press a kiss reverently across her knuckles. “Were you there with me, I fear you would have died with everyone else," she admitted solemnly. "My heart would not have survived such devastation."

---

Bethany was beside herself with worry when Niamh fell unconscious upon the first, unsuccessful attempt to seal the Breach. Niamh was brought back to Haven to recover, but Bethany refused to leave her side despite Leliana's attempts to get her to take care of herself as well.

"Bethany—"

"You know as well as I do that your colleagues would have killed her down in the dungeons if we hadn’t arrived when we did," Bethany said flatly from where she sat by Niamh’s bedside. "Everyone in the village knows she’s a mage now, and I don’t need to remind you of how well-liked we are on a regular basis..."

"I’ll have my agents watching her. What nearly happened outside the chantry will never happen again."

Bethany bristled instantly at the memory.

---

She’d still been inside the building to relay some information regarding Saoirse to Leliana when they heard the first outraged cries beyond the doors. As the uproar grew louder in volume—all demanding the death of the one who had supposedly killed the Divine—Bethany had rushed outside immediately just in time to see civilians and more than a few soldiers attempting to stone Niamh.

Infuriated by the blatant injustice, Bethany reached over her shoulder for her staff and immediately slammed its point into the ground. At the moment of impact, a wave of force magic traveled violently across the ground, taking the mob entirely off their feet. She had been mindful to curve the energy away from Niamh—and inadvertently Cassandra, who had sidled up to aid the other mage, just as she unleashed her magic—so her lover had remained unharmed and even grateful for her arrival if her relieved smile was any indication.

Still, Bethany steeled her features to utter impassivity as she coolly strode through the crowd. Those within it seemed to be in various states of bewilderment as they tried to regain their bearings, but she took note of the many widened eyes that recognized the blues and silvers of her Warden regalia.

“You will show Ferelden’s Constable of the Grey the proper respect she is due,” Bethany said lowly as she placed herself alongside her lover, her gaze searching for any signs of rebellion to her words. “Anyone who would dare accost her in spite of her title will sorely live to regret it...”

---

"Can you really make such promises?" Bethany asked dryly.

"I can certainly try. Niamh’s family. Saoirse would never forgive me if something happened to her, especially if she knew there was anything I could have done to prevent it." She sighed. "Nor would I be able to forgive myself for that matter. Niamh’s a kind woman, and much like you—and any mage—she’s so undeserving of the treatment she often receives from others.”

---

Anyone who knows me knows that I LOVE mages; thus, it should come as no surprise that I always go to get the mages at Redcliffe as allies.

It should also go without saying that Bethany also would have gone with Niamh to deal with Alexius and the Venatori. Per the events of In Hushed Whispers, it's canon that the companions who went with you there become prisoners in the twisted, future version of Redcliffe.

While Warden mages are more susceptible to Corypheus' influence, I headcanon that Bethany was so furious with the loss of Niamh to Alexius that she fought against the mind control even to the point of torture like Leliana. When Niamh sees her in the future, Bethany's so pained, broken, and exhausted but so very thankful to see her lover again.

There's hope again—no matter how small—and Bethany's determined to help her set the world right again.

What little happiness they have at their reunion obviously doesn't last long, especially with Alexius’ death. With the Elder One beckoning at their door, Bethany goes off with the other companions to stall the demons and Venatori outside to give Dorian time to cast his spell.

I’ve always headcanoned that mages have auras unique to the type of magic they specialize in and that they’d be able to subtly influence the world around them based on their emotions. You see evidence of that a lot in OtSttCA, especially in those moments where Niamh’s angry or upset.

In any case, per my headcanon, mages would be able to sense one another although the distance at which they could detect such magic would be dependent on the senser’s overall power or their relationship with the other mage. As close as both women are, Niamh absolutely feels the moment Bethany dies... :(

---

She felt the absence of Bethany’s magic like a dagger to the heart.

It had been there, burning as bright as the sun, and then it had stuttered—dark clouds eclipsing its light—until it simply settled inside her like a dead weight. Left bereft of that familiar, constant presence that had been her very reason for breathing for so long, it was as if water had pooled into her lungs, threatening to drown her. The sensation immediately brought her to her knees, leaving her gasping for breath.

"No..." Niamh whispered out brokenly, anguish and horror overtaking her even as Leliana tried in vain to urge her back up to her feet again. She couldn't hear the other woman's concern past the shattering of her own heart. In its place was simply an aching emptiness that slowly began to consume her whole...

---

Let’s just say that Niamh’s not happy with Alexius when she and Dorian manage to return to the present...

---

The fighting between the Inquisition and rebel mages against Alexius and his Venatori was brought to an abrupt halt by the presence of the Fade rift that appeared overhead. The force with which it easily tore space and reality asunder was enough to take everyone within the audience chamber off their feet, especially as stifling heat and wind spilled from the portal along with two figures.

“Give her back..."

Bethany blearily looked up when she heard Niamh’s familiar voice, and relief filled her when she saw that she was standing beneath the now sealed rift. Even with its disappearance, however, she realized all too soon that it had done nothing to quell the storm that had now taken residence within the room, sending banners and tapestries flying with whipping gusts of wind. At its center was her lover, who was standing so still amidst the chaos around her, regarding Alexius with such apathy in her expression.

“What?" the old magister uttered in confusion, shakily rising to his feet only to have his progress nearly undone as lightning struck the ground next to him with a deafening peal of thunder.

Bethany saw how his throat undulated as he swallowed in nervous regard of the mage slowly making her way toward him. His fingers trembled with the effort to form flames between them.

"...Who gave you the right?” Niamh asked, voice as low as the rumbling thunder, as she strode toward the dais.

The pressure within the room escalated once more as an aura of absolute fire surrounded her. Like vines, they rose from the floor up in spiraling patterns before enveloping her entirely with almost playful licks of flame. Nothing in Niamh’s expression indicated the display of power was in any way exhausting to maintain whereas Alexius was already weakened from his initial spell to destroy her along with his efforts to keep the Inquisition at bay.

But it was not a woman who sought to meet him.

It was death.

As if aware of the sudden danger he was in, Alexius threw forth several barrages of fire at Niamh, but her smooth, relentless advance couldn’t be stopped. She made no attempt to even bat away the bursts of magic. If anything, the flames just seemed to absorb themselves into her. Her aura flared higher, burning more brightly beneath each attack, and as Alexius tried to back away, he inadvertently tripped himself into the throne behind him. He flinched as another peal of thunder made itself known, and as he reflexively turned his gaze to the dark storm clouds coalescing above them, he didn't see Niamh Fade-stepping forward to close the distance between them until he was choking from the fingers around his neck. With her enhanced Warden strength, Niamh was able to lift the magister off his feet entirely, leaving him to dangle helplessly.

“Who gave you the damned right to take her from me?!” she demanded.

With her cry, the fires along the sconces and the hearth behind the throne went out entirely, gone with the sudden gale of wind. As such, the only light to be seen came from the flashes of lightning above them and the fiery aura surrounding her. In the sporadic moments the room illuminated itself, there was little mistaking the utter hatred in Niamh’s eyes.

She was going to kill Alexius.

It would have been well within her right, given the magister had attacked her first within their meeting, but Bethany’s eyes widened when she saw how the staff on Niamh’s back began to rattle violently. Against the sheer heat emanating from her body, the silverite wolf head adorning the top of the staff began to melt entirely onto the floor in thick dregs of liquid while the shaft bowed and arched until it creakily bent in the middle, angling itself with the sharpness of an arrow.

Oh, no... With dread, Bethany scrambled to her feet and darted over toward Niamh. Without her staff to act as a catalyst, if Niamh burnt too much of her magic away, she could cause irreparable damage to herself and those around her.

Upon reaching her lover’s side, she placed her hands on Niamh’s face, desperately trying to draw her attention from Alexius. For a moment, nothing could sway her from trying to squeeze the life out of the magister, and she winced when she felt Niamh’s magic already begin to fluctuate erratically against her own.

"No, no, no! Look at me!” She jerked her lover’s head toward her. “Look at me, Niamh! Please!"

And as Niamh did, she watched in confusion as the woman’s expression froze. The lips that had been pulled back in a sneer of bared teeth slowly went lax, forming an ‘o’ of awe and disbelief, as recognition began to dawn in her lover’s gaze. With it, Alexius gradually slid from her grasp to collapse at her feet with desperate gulps of air, but Bethany paid him little mind. With relief, she saw Niamh’s fiery aura dissipate along with the glow of her eyes until they returned to the pale grey she adored.

"That’s it. Come back to me,” she encouraged. “Just breathe." Bethany took one of her lover’s hands in hers, placing it over her own chest, allowing Niamh to feel her breathing. “Slow and steady. Just like that.”

As each breath fell into sync with her own, Niamh's expression gradually softened into something so reverent and sweet that it almost hurt to see—as if salvation had finally blessed her—but Bethany smiled when she saw the battle rage finally leave her.

“There we are."

Niamh used her other hand to gently cradle the side of Bethany's face. “You’re still here…” she breathed, utter relief in her voice.

“Yes.” Bethany frowned in concern at her reaction. “Always."

---

When they returned to Haven, where Niamh gave her official report to her War Council, Bethany was horrified to learn all that her lover had endured from Alexius’ spell.

Afterward, Niamh suggested they spend the evening in their cabin together rather than explore the trails out the village as per usual, and Bethany didn’t object. She understood her lover’s need to reassure herself that she was still there with her—that she wasn’t simply caught in a dream that she could never wake from.

“Is... Is this okay?” Niamh asked quietly, wanting permission to seek such comfort.

Niamh was always thoughtful in everything she did for her—in bed or otherwise—and while she never treated her like glass, Bethany could count on one hand the number of times she saw her magic unfettered like in Redcliffe. She had felt subtle traces of it occasionally with their intimacy although it was usually with purposeful design—heat, ice, and tickling traces of lightning—that were meant to tease.

But rarely was it ever so close to the surface like this—a conduit of power coiled so tightly within mortal form—waiting to burst beneath Niamh’s skin.

“It’s okay,” Bethany said, gently lacing the fingers of Niamh’s marked hand in hers.

The other woman had been reluctant to let her touch it although it hadn’t shown any notable effects toward anyone—or anything thus far—save for its ability to close rifts. Still, Niamh had been skittish all the same, fearing that it might harm her.

...Or perhaps she believed it was a damning mark of shame—of guilt—much like it had been when the people of Haven had attempted to stone her to death.

---

“There’s no denying that this mark is tied to the Breach. You saw the wreckage at the Temple of Sacred Ashes. You saw how many people died, and I still can’t even remember what happened before or after that moment beyond waking up in the dungeons. What if I did do something to cause that explosion?”

“If you had, it would not have been intentional,” Bethany insisted with a frown. “The mark is unlike anything we’ve ever seen, yes, but that you bear it all does not mean you were the one who created it.”

But Niamh couldn’t be swayed as she paced back and forth before the hearth of their cabin. “How can you be so certain?” she murmured.

“Because I’ve known you for years, Niamh. You would never purposely hurt anyone without provocation. Trust in me if you can’t yet trust in yourself.”

---

With permission given, Bethany found herself gently laid out against their bed as Niamh sought to touch and bring her pleasure all throughout the night.

Over the years, she’d become remarkably acclimated to Niamh’s magic that felt so much like a forest caught beneath a winter storm of ice and lightning. It was normally as calm as it was now—crisp as the first intake of breath beneath a cool dawn—but there were times where it could be provoked. The incident in the audience chamber was proof enough of that, where it had settled over them all like the tolling bells of judgment—an inevitability inviting the nascent danger of death.

Bethany had been beyond concerned when she had seen the first bits of viridian energy springing across her lover’s eyes then. There had been an almost disturbing beauty to them—a ring of vines gathering just at the outside perimeter of silvery irises—but that they had pulsed in time with the mark upon Niamh’s hand...

Bethany had feared for her, especially when it seemed to flare all the brighter with the fury that had overtaken her.

She was glad to see no evidence of that now as Niamh laid contentedly next to her. Even though Niamh was sated at last—the burning, restless energy within the other mage having finally simmered down to faint embers—she seemed reluctant to drift off into sleep. Winter-grey eyes continued to lazily rove across her face and form, as if cataloguing every detail less she forget later.

In response, Bethany reached out to tangle her fingers through the dark mane of tousled hair, letting her nails gently rake across her lover’s scalp. Pale eyes had widened imperceptibly at the sensation, but like always, they soon became half-lidded with the soothing nature of it. She heard the quiet hum of disgruntlement, as if protesting the notion of Bethany’s attempts to lull her to sleep against her silent vigil, but she merely shushed her.

“Shh… Rest, my love. I’ll still be here in the morning when you wake.”

---

And that’s basically it.

Again, since this is still in its rough draft phase, it’s not as polished as I’d like it to be, but I hope you enjoyed it! If you did, leave me a like, comment, or send some love to my inbox! Until next time, dear readers!

[hafanforever]

Panic Attack

As we know, King Runeard had the dam constructed in the Enchanted Forest as part of his conspiracy to bring down the Northuldra people, since it would weaken the forest and limit their resources, forcing them to turn to him in their desperation.

But then, how exactly does the dam’s purpose work into his premeditated plan to eliminate them? What were all of his steps in carrying out his plan the day he started the war between his people and the Northuldra, and died during it?

First of all, let me make this clear: Runeard did not want to incorporate the tribe into his kingdom and rule them; he wanted to DESTROY them! I mean, he saw them as a threat to his monarchal rank and power all because of their relations with the magical spirits, so he wanted to wipe them out to extinction in order to remove this "threat"!

Second of all, I don’t think Runeard brought Agnarr, his whole army, and the citizens of his kingdom to the celebration in the forest just to start a war with the Northuldra...at least, not on that very day. Remember his memory figure in Ahtohallan tells the second-in-command, “We bring Arendelle’s full guard” and then "They will come in celebration, and then, we will know their size, and strength.” These quotes make it sound to me as if Runeard planned this gathering with both groups of people just so that he could determine the exact number of Northuldrans that resided in the forest, and just how much they outnumbered the Arendellians, or vice versa. Perhaps he planned to instigate a war between them at a later time, but only after he counted the Northuldra’s numbers so that he could know exactly what he and his kingdom were up against and make future preparations.

So for a while now, I had been trying grasp the whole picture on how Runeard plotted to eliminate the Northuldra using the dam...and then I remembered the kind of person he was. Runeard was a selfish, arrogant, ruthless tyrant, yet he hid this true nature of his extraordinarily well by presenting a false, artificial image of a generous, peaceful, noble king to his subjects and the Northuldra. He used this facade to gain everyone’s trust and respect, and it worked. Since he fooled everyone into believing that this was real nature, it was an image he had to keep up, one he had to protect, and ESPECIALLY because he projected it with his building of the dam.

On a motivation to protect his false image and keep his real nature under wraps from everyone, and especially to make the Northuldra completely unaware of his true intentions, I have a headcanon that Runeard decided that the best approach to bringing them down was to do it subtly rather than with direct force. As the dam was put to work in weakening the forest, perhaps Runeard thought the limitation of their resources would slowly kill off the Northuldra, significantly reducing their population size. Perhaps in his arrogance, supremacy, and superiority, he thought the people wouldn’t be smart enough to realize the dam's true purpose right away. When they finally would and come to him for help, maybe he thought it would be when their population size was greatly declined with few members remaining, leaving them in a very susceptible state.

Considering how much damage the dam could do to the forest and affect the Northuldra population over a certain period of time, perhaps there was a more direct part of Runeard’s plan to eliminate them. Perhaps when any of them would finally turn to him in their desperation, it would be in their greatest moment of vulnerability (as I described above), when their size has greatly declined and very few of them are remaining. Perhaps when they would come to him for help, they would do so as a whole group. And when they did, Runeard would lure the unsuspecting remaining Northuldrans into some kind of trap, and kill them all in one place at one time. In doing so, he would catch them completely off guard, making it so much easier for him to have them killed.

However, I believe that Runeard’s entire plan began to fall apart once the leader confronted him about the dam on the gathering day, then more so after he murdered him and started the war, and that is what led to him to his death.

Observe Runeard very closely in the gifs below from the scene when the Northuldra leader confronts him about the dam: after he is told “The dam isn’t strengthening our waters” and then while being told that “It’s cutting off the north...”, he glances behind the leader, over his shoulder, where there are people nearby, close enough to be within earshot.

Despite looking calm and composed (as well as we can make out from a blue/purple snowy figure of him), It’s all too obvious that Runeard twice looks past the man because he is terrified that the Northuldrans and Arendellians nearby will overhear the latter’s complaints. So he gently interrupts him, acting as if he’s really listening while claiming that they can discuss the matter in private...when all he’s really doing is shutting him up so that NO ONE will hear the dam is doing the exact opposite of what everyone else believes it is doing.

We know what comes after this, but I want to add something before I dive into that: any beliefs Runeard may have had about using the dam to bring down the Northuldra subtly, with it taking a long time for them to realize it was weakening their lands, reducing their numbers, and turning to him for help as a whole group at once, are instantly put to rest during this scene. The Northuldra leader clearly caught on to what the dam was doing very quickly, a lot faster than Runeard anticipated. He was obviously not expecting to be confronted about the dam too soon, and this might explain why he subtly frowns when he is told that the dam isn’t strengthening the forest’s waters.

Like I said before, Runeard had to keep up appearances by protecting his false image as a generous ruler from everyone, especially since he projected it with the construction and presentation of the dam. He had everyone fooled into believing that he was a good man, and a good king, who did an utmost good deed for the Northuldra. But once the leader voiced his suspicions about the dam harming the forest instead of helping it out loud, Runeard secretly panicked, and especially so because of how many people were close by in the forest. If someone else heard the leader talking about the dam, or if the leader had the chance to tell his tribe and the Arendellians about the dam, not only would Runeard’s long-term plan to destroy the Northuldra have been ruined, but his ENTIRE cover would have been blown. He would have been exposed as a liar and traitor to the tribe, as well as his people, staff, and Agnarr. This would have made him immediately lose the trust and respect of everyone in his kingdom, and he would have faced utter humiliation, wrath, and disdain; essentially, the revelation of the dam’s real purpose to everyone present would have destroyed Runeard’s reputation and legacy.

And Runeard wasn’t going to take a chance on having his reputation, image, and legacy being ruined. So the instant the leader tells him the harm the dam is causing, Runeard quickly concluded what his next move was: murder, and he had to do it NOW!

Again, on the day the forest fell, I honestly don’t think Runeard had a plan to start a war against the Northuldra and start by killing the leader in secret. Yes, he planned to eradicate the Northuldra tribe for sure, but on said day, he carried out his acts because things weren't happening according to his exact plan. Runeard’s act of killing the leader was premeditated, but also a simultaneous act of impulsion. He did it to prevent him from telling everyone else about how the dam was actually harming the forest. It was a spur-of-the-moment decision Runeard made in order to keep the truth a secret from rest of the tribe, and from his soldiers, people, and son.

After his deed, though, Runeard instantly realized that the Northuldra would discover their leader’s absence, much sooner than later, and be searching for him. Without a doubt, this realization drove him into another state of panic, so he had to act fast again and make another attempt to cover his tracks, to divert any possible suspicion away from himself...and that attempt was made when he instigated the battle between his people and the Northuldra. But this step was entirely carried out on impulse; it was not premeditated. It was a feeble and poorly executed attempt to wipe out the whole tribe, which Runeard was only trying to do now just because he had to cover up his deed of killing their leader before any of them found out.

In summary, Runeard panicked that his plan to eliminate the Northuldra started to fall to pieces when the leader voiced his suspicions about the dam, so it led to him committing murder on the spot...and since that act caused him to go into further panic, he instigated an attack on the rest of the tribe to try and eliminate them.

Runeard’s improvised, spontaneous attempts to cover up his crimes and keep his original plan intact were poorly done...and that, combined with his prejudice and arrogance, is what drove him to his death.

[jummyjammy]

I'm not that much into Riverdale these days and no ship gets to me the way some still used to like a few weeks ago but time jump made me a little curious to watch two new episodes and I might say that I have no idea why people are so scared their favorite couples won't get back together. For me, RVD writers wouldn't be any more obvious. Archie Andrews is clearly still not over his high school sweetheart. In fact, as desperate as it sounds, he could not get into relationship for years because he couldn't forget about his former lover. And of course he was enlisted so it's a given that he didn't had many girls around but now let's not act like military soldiers are celibates. He could've get with someone but he couldn't because he hoped for eventually reuniting with his ex. That's dumb but that's how Archie always was. And even after somehow reuniting with her and finding out she's married to, at least for his knowledge, a nice guy, he still tries to check his ground by mentioning that he wasn't in serious relationship with anyone since high school - he didn't and actually shouldn't have said it to a married woman but he still did and I find it hilarious how she just brushed him off and adviced him to live his life and hook up with people. That was a rejection and this rejection is the only reason why Archie turned to Betty Cooper - the first person who was there, single and willing. Betty was the one flirting first, he just went along with it. No, I'm not defending Archie. I don't have too. We all saw it, Betty's awkward attempt to flirt, their hook up in the shower and the scene after where it's Betty who seems to be more into Archie than he's into her. She's the one saying they wanted to have sex since high school, he said nothing. However he's the one who wanted to keep it a secret from his former lover and best friend. Why though? It's 7 years later and his ex girlfriend is married to someone else, she wouldn't mind, it's not her business anyway, right? Yet for some reason he doesn't want her to know, he wants to keep it between them and why? Because he doesn't want to be with Betty, he doesn't want a girlfriend, he wants fun, quick no string attached fun but at the same time he's still not over Veronica and cares about what she thinks about him and this, whatever it is with Betty is not important for him, Veronica is. So who's Betty for him? People call it rebound and that's exactly what it is. Whether Archie is only a rebound for Betty too or not I have no idea but with Archie it wouldn't be more obvious. He's not over his former lover but he can't have her so he takes her advice and decides to live a little and tries to forget about Veronica and his feelings for her. But you know what? After Chad'll come to Riverdale and Andrews will learn what kind of man he actually is, that Veronica's marriage with this man is not a happy one at all, you might all expect Archie Andrews' hero complex kicking in and he and Veronica will get much closer than one certain fandom would like them too.

And about Bughead? I'm not that invested in their story and Betty as for now is the character I dislike the most so I can't say anything about their relationship. It might take them more time to reunite especially since Betty changed a lot and they seem to be much more disconected than Varchie. Betty seems to be over it but this girl is known for hiding her feelings well and putting on a mask so maybe her hooking up with Archie is just her way to cope with seeing her former flame after so many years? Who knows. Maybe. Or maybe she's just a serial cheater? No matter the reason, Jughead deserves better than this. Either Betty sorts her shit out and changes or I'm all for supporting Jughead and Tabitha instead.

Don't fear everyone, we are getting our endgame couples and writers wouldn't be more obvious about that. The thing that scares you so much is only temporary and there's nothing to worry about. If there was something serious coming out of this why making them have this sexual relationship so soon? Fanservice? Possibly. Or simply just something to stir things up a little and add more drama. After all getting Varchie and Bughead back right after time jump would be a little boring, don't you think? So it's all right people, Bugvarchie will be back. For now just enjoy the show, skip things you can't stomach or take a break from the show and come back once this will change for the better and trust me when I say that they will change for the better very soon. We survived near a year or uncertainity and rudeness from one fandom, so we can handle the next two-three weeks.

[whatapunk]

Holy butts I wrote a second chapter!! I am soooo thankful for everyone who liked or reblogged the first chapter because truly, truly, truly you gave me more motivation than you could possibly realize! 

A couple things: 

I’ve included dialogue from the s02e01 scene where Kanan and Hera have a very Han/Leia hallway argument and I definitely don’t want to take credit for such things (I only wanted to add it to help me with my flow a bit)

Right now I’m firmly trying so very hard to fit it perfectly into canon (it’s just something I like doing, idk) but eventually it might go a lil more AU, I just haven’t decided yet

This shit had me on wookieepedia searching the most random stuff, but rest assured, there is garlic in the Star Wars universe

Enjoy!

Title: Endings

Fandom: Star Wars Rebels

Relationship: Kanan Jarrus/Hera Syndulla; Kanan Jarrus/female OC

Rating: t for now, m in future chapters (I'm guessing) for language and some non-explicit intimacy

Word Count: 2446

Previous Chapters: Ch. 1

Chapter 2

Kanan sat on the step ladder leading up to the Liberator’s control panels. His presence was a silent mark of informality in the middle of the crew’s debriefing meeting with Commander Sato. The rest of the crew, plus Ahsoka, stood around the holo-console in the middle of the floor. Sato was saying something about the Ghost crew- his crew- but Kanan was barely half listening. For one, every other word that came out of Sato’s mouth was some military formality and, thus, not something that interested him in the slightest. But the main reason he wasn’t listening was that Rhia Denley’s image was still burned into his thoughts.

Seven years. When you hadn’t seen someone in this galaxy for seven years, you started to assume you never would again. At least, that’s how Kanan had felt. 

However, suddenly she was here again- she existed again, something Kanan had tried hard to convince himself wasn’t even true. It was easier to convince himself she was something he’d imagined than for him to remember her and the way she’d crushed his young heart years ago. Besides, thinking about that heartache had always made him feel guilty once Hera was in his life. Now, however, he was feeling so many things he didn’t even have room for guilt.

What he did have room for was a hefty amount of bitterness, and for more than one reason. First of all, he was already bitter before Rhia showed up; he’d hardly hidden his feelings and had become almost spiteful about how they had been sucked into a military operation. But even that wasn’t totally separate from his thoughts about Rhia.

Rhia and Kanan had become a “thing” on Gorse, very soon after Kanan had set up what passed as a life there. Their meeting was by chance, but they had run into each other briefly when he was even younger and worked with a smuggler named Janus Kasmir. It was actually Rhia who told him about low-profile jobs on Gorse then, so he wasn’t altogether surprised that she ended up there eventually too. While he wasn’t much more than a kid when they first met, when they reconnected on Gorse, he was older and far more interesting to Rhia. They quickly became infatuated with one another for the better part of four months, which was practically a lifelong commitment to Kanan. Before Hera, Rhia was the longest relationship he’d ever been in. 

Rhia, however, had bigger goals than being a bartender’s girlfriend and working as a miner on Cynda. Rhia, much like Hera, was interested in the Rebellion. She’d made this clear early on, but she didn’t try to preach to Kanan, and he’d liked that about her. However, once she’d found a connection to a group of Rebels on the Holonet, she had tried- more than once- to get him to come with her. That’s what made running into her here, of all places, all the more exasperating and awkward. He’d ended up here anyway, despite his countless protestations- and he didn’t even want to be.

Seeing Rhia again reminded him, among other things, of all of the reasons he told her he didn’t want to join the Rebellion. And that reminded him that they were all still true.

Kanan heard Sato say something about the Spectres being “invaluable,” and then suddenly Chopper burst into the meeting, much to Commander Sato and Hera’s dismay. He was going on about an emergency incoming transmission, and, frankly, Kanan welcomed the change. His bitterness with this situation, this Rebellion- this meeting had reached its peak.

***

Less than ten minutes later, Kanan’s bitterness had already gotten him into trouble, and with Hera, no less. 

After telling Chopper to play his transmission during a “secret debriefing,” Hera had scowled at him for the rest of the meeting. He’d tried to rush out and get out of her line of fire once they were dismissed, but she’d caught him in the hallway and firmly let him know he wasn’t authorized to do that.

“Authorization! Procedure! That’s what’s bothering me!” he’d raised his voice, uncaring of the people that were attempting to walk past them as they argued. 

Hera put her hands up gently, sighing at having finally gotten him to drop the passive aggressive quips about their work lately. It wasn’t hard to guess what had been bothering him, but he was a grown adult who should be able to talk to her, of all people.

“All right. Talk to me,” she said, lowering her voice. Kanan sighed and did the same.

“After this mission, I want us to go back on our own,” he said firmly. “Fighting alongside soldiers isn’t what I signed up for.” At that, Hera frowned at him and shoved him into an open doorway, pointing a gloved finger in his face.

“You seem to be forgetting these soldiers helped save your life,” she said, looking at him with those big eyes that could be both demanding and softening at the same time. After that remark, he couldn’t meet them.

“And I’m grateful,” he started, “but that doesn’t mean I want to join their little army. When you and I started together, it was ‘Rob from the Empire, give to the needy,’ a noble cause. Now we’re getting drawn into some kind of military thing! I don’t like it.” 

Somehow Hera’s voice became more serious and more earnest.

“We are fighting a bigger fight, but it’s still the right fight,” she said, all but pleading with him to understand that they’d been fighting in the name of the Rebellion all along. Kanan wasn’t having it.

“I survived one war. I’m not ready for another one,” he said, turning away from her. She grabbed his arm. “I saw what it did.”

“To the Jedi?” she asked, almost whispering. He looked back at her.

“To everyone.” He left the doorway and continued walking down the hall, hearing Hera’s exasperated sigh behind him. 

Kanan loved virtually everything about Hera, even her flaws. She was incredibly stubborn, but since he was so go-with-the-flow, it never really got in their way. In fact, it practically complimented his own personality. She would get adamant and obsessed over something, and he would follow her anywhere and do anything she asked of him. At least, that’s how things had gone for them for the past seven years, right up until the formal Rebellion had rescued him from the Grand Inquisitor. Now it was suddenly a reality of Kanan’s world that he was part of a military operation and that could only lead to one thing: war. 

Hera had been familiar with war her whole life, but not in the same way Kanan had. He’d fought in battles as a young teen alongside his master, Depa Billaba and seen the realities of it all over the galaxy. Hera’s own world was war-torn, for sure, but her role in that war was far different than Kanan’s. For the first time since he’d met her, he felt like she was incapable of understanding him.

Kanan headed to the only place he really wanted to be right now: his quarters on Ghost. He felt like meditating, if only for the quiet. He lost himself in his thoughts there for maybe an hour, and eventually his sour attitude had at least subsided. He remembered his harsh tone with Hera and his obvious instigation of Chopper in the meeting. He still didn’t care about what Sato thought, but he felt bad for making Hera look bad. Now, it felt like such a childish thing to have done.

He left his quarters and, once seeing the Ghost was still empty, he went back out into the bay. It was less busy now, as most of the cargo that littered the area earlier had been taken elsewhere by now. His eyes scanned for Hera; he knew he should apologize to her. When he didn’t see her, or any of the Spectres, he set off down one of the hallways that he believed led to the commissary. He hadn’t taken the time to get to know his way around this ship (by design) so he honestly had no clue where to start looking for her. He’d gone pretty far without seeing anything resembling a commissary and was about to turn around when an amazing aroma hit him and made his stomach growl: garlic. 

Something told him to follow the smell, which led him down a corridor that opened up to a large galley. Standing in front of a pan sizzling on the stove, as Kanan had expected, was Rhia. She looked up at him, surprised, but then smiled.

“I should have known this would attract you,” she said with a smirk, then turned her attention back to the sizzling pan, stirring the contents with a wooden spoon. 

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were trying to get me here,” Kanan added, grabbing a seat at an empty table near the stove. “You know how I feel about your cooking.” She looked up and grinned at him.

“The same way everyone does,” she said, confidently. She left the pan and attended to a cutting board with what looked like an onion and some kind of pepper on it. 

Kanan’s stomach growled again. Rhia was an amazing cook and loved every piece of food he’d ever seen her hold. She only ever ate ration bars or drank nutritive milk when she absolutely had to. Otherwise, she kept her own stock of spices and quality ingredients and went well out of her way (and budget) to get fresh produce. Kanan’s mind drifted back to memories of watching Rhia cooking in her kitchen on Gorse. He remembered breakfast with eggs and some sort of mushroom, watching her move her hands skillfully around knives and pans and the ingredients, often wearing nothing but-

“So,” Rhia started, pulling Kanan out of his memory. “You finally joined the Rebellion.” Kanan’s brow wrinkled.

“What do you mean by finally?” he asked, already feeling himself becoming defensive. Rhia rolled her eyes.

“Nothing,” she said, slicing into her pepper, grinning.

“And no, I did not join anything,” Kanan said, putting extra emphasis on “I” and jabbing his thumb to his chest. She looked back up at him as she scraped ingredients from her cutting board to the pan. 

“That was Hera Syndulla, wasn’t it? Captain of the Ghost? You’re part of Ghost crew, right?” she pressed, confused. Kanan was more than a little surprised.

“You’ve heard of us?” Kanan asked, his vanity getting the better of him and nearly allowing a smile to creep onto his face. Rhia rolled her eyes again and laughed.

“Don’t flatter yourself, Kanan. I’ve heard of Captain Syndulla, not her first mate,” she joked, laughing more at the fall of Kanan’s expression. Then realization struck her. “Wait, are you the one we just blew up a star destroyer for?” Kanan grimaced.

“Yes, but that wasn’t my fault. I didn’t tell them to- and it was Chopper who-” Rhia held her hand up, seeing him getting defensive.

“Kanan, I don’t really know anything about what happened. I wasn’t here for it, I just heard about it. I was on a freighter headed to a rendezvous. I don’t even know who Chopper is,” she said, going back to her pan.

“He’s our droid,” Kanan said flatly. “Anyway, my crew performed the rescue. I was aboard Tarkin’s destroyer.” Rhia looked up at him again, this time a little more serious.

“What was that like?” she asked.

“Not fun.”

Rhia didn’t push the topic further. She grabbed a pan of noodles that had been sitting over to her right and mixed them into the skillet with some oil. Kanan was suddenly fascinated by the chipped edge of the table in front of him. 

Satisfied with the meal in front of her, Rhia reached into a cabinet behind her and pulled out two plates and then matched them with two forks. She set them out on the table Kanan was sitting at and then divided the noodles in half. Before she sat down, however, she went back to the cabinet and grabbed two glasses. When she set them down the table Kanan looked up at her, arching his eyebrow. She went to a backpack that sat on the floor behind the counter and pulled out a glass bottle with no markings and a familiar light brown liquid sloshing inside. She poured herself a drink, placed the mouth of the bottle over his glass and paused, looking at him, silently offering the drink. 

“I can’t think of what goes better with your dinners,” he said, and she poured. 

As soon as Kanan took a bite, his memories were triggered all over again. He was pretty sure he’d never even eaten this specific dish before, given her access to such a wide variety of ingredients. But it didn’t matter. Rhia’s meals were memorable for some sort of shared quality that bound them all together, even when they were drastically different. Not only that, but he realized how long it had been since he’d eaten, and how much longer it had been since he’d eaten something of this quality. For a few minutes they ate in silence, Kanan unavailable for any and all conversation. Eventually, Rhia spoke.

“So explain to me how you haven’t joined the Rebellion?” Kanan sighed, but the food had made him quite amenable to discussing just about anything. He did, however, take a drink before he replied.

“I didn’t know we were a cell. I didn’t know there were cells. Hera was the only one who spoke to Fulcrum and knew of the larger operation. I found out when I was… rescued,” Kanan ended quietly. Rhia could tell that being rescued and needing so much from so many, made him uncomfortable. 

“That had to be quite a shock,” she said, sensing the need for a new subject. “So you and Hera, when did you two meet?” she asked. Kanan looked at her, surprised. He could tell by the way she asked, she knew that they were together. Rhia gave him a “give me a break” look.

“Kanan, really- my ‘pilot’? Shit, I’ve seen explosions that were more subtle.” She chuckled and took another drink, emptying the glass. Kanan did the same. Rhia offered up the bottle again.

“Another?”

Kanan looked at it, hesitating. He hardly drank at all anymore, let alone like he did when they were living on Gorse. However, depending on where this conversation was going to go, Kanan felt like he would need something more than blood in his veins. 

“One more.”

[bellatrixobsessed1]

From Chin To Yon Rah (Part 13)

It was really only a matter of time before he saw her for what she really was. A mess. A disaster. An unsettling freak. And thank Agni that Atsu wasn’t home.

She supposes it was a day like any other. Really there was nothing different about it. Nothing even slightly different from the cozy routine that she has managed to fall into and yet here she is… She supposes it has just all caught up with her...

It was a bright morning. She’d gone to the market--closed her eyes and savored the kaleidoscope of morning scents; the first batches of bread for the day, much less poignant Earth Kingdom spices, herbal teas wafting from restaurants, and the jasmines resting in window sills among others.

Just as she has every day for the past year, Azula made her way to the town library. It had become something of a passtime to consume scroll after scroll, text after text. She is fond of the debate events that the library holds every now and again; they assure her that her mind isn’t growing dull. And when she can, she steals off and deep into the treeline to work on her bending. She won’t let herself weaken, even if she has no particular reason to fight anymore.

And it was going smoothly as it ever had, more than smoothly, really. She thinks that her fire has more power these days, more control. She finds that without the pressures of war and high standards, that she has more energy to put forth. And without judgment she has no constraints. Nothing to keep her from experimenting with forms and stances of her own.

That afternoon was another spent mixing earthbending forms with firebending forms. The weeks prior had been about observation; watching them bend and imitating them without fire. It had drawn some looks and plenty of questions. Mostly from Atsu and mostly about why a firebender would want to practice earthbending katas.

Her studies had come to pay off that afternoon. She supposes that she’d felt accomplished but that sense of achievement...it was somehow skewed. Off and in a way she couldn’t place. And perhaps that should have been her first clue to tread carefully.

All in all, her day had come to pass in a half haze. Harvesting turnips was an absent-minded task, around turnip six she had drifted. She thinks that Seukhyun might have conversed with her for some time.

“Are you alright?” She remembered him asking. “I can ask my old man to let you have the rest of the evening off.”

She hadn’t taken him up on the offer. When she looked over her shoulder she saw a full wheelbarrow. “What time is it?”

“About an hour into sunset.”

Azula had tensed. She had started several hours before sunset. She opened her mouth and closed it again. She remembers Ojihara insisting that she went home with a few extra coins and an assurance that she’d done more than her share of work for the day anyhow. She doesn’t remember walking home but she remembers Seukhyun telling Hajime to, “watch your fiance.”

She doesn’t hold it against him, he had only left her alone for perhaps five minutes or so. But that was plenty enough. She doesn’t understand, it had been such a good day. Such a productive day.

Yet she is curled up on the floor weeping. They are back. It has been so very long since she’d seen any of them. But they stand around her; Zuko, Mai, TyLee and her mother, uncle, and father. All of them. And they all tell her that she doesn’t deserve what she has.

“You ran away.” Zuko points out.

“That isn’t the same as making things right.” TyLee elaborates with a frown.

Azula claws at her hairline. “I needed to leave.” She mutters. “You didn’t want me around anyways, I know that you didn’t.”

“Yeah. We wanted you to stay put in the asylum with the rest of the lunatics.” Mai quirks a brow. “Do you really think that you should be talking to Hajime?”

“And the kid!” Zuko adds. “You’re going to hurt them.”

“Just like you hurt everyone you care about.” TyLee nods.

Azula’s stomach drops, she can’t speak past the lump in her throat. And maybe that is a mercy, because she hears footsteps. She isn’t sure if those are real either.

“He only offered to marry you because he’s scared of you.”

Azula shakes her head. She glares at her mother. The woman doesn’t help. She never helps. Just as always she leaves. Vanishes right when she could use someone the most, right when she needs someone to help her save herself.

“He doesn’t love you.” Ozai sneers.

“Rikka?”

“You’re a waste of his time.”

“Rikka?”

“And he’s a waste of yours.”

She feels a hand on her shoulder.

“Get rid of him and make something of yourself.” She sees the fire come to his palm and bunches in on herself.

“Rikka what’s going on?” He carefully rolls her over to face him. He doesn’t quite get her there. She lies on her back staring at the ceiling, at the things swirling around on the ceiling. Tears drip down her cheeks and make trails towards her ears.

Her body feels limp and heavy. Weighted and somehow distant. And why now? Why now, when everything is going alright?

The shadows on the wall twist. She doesn’t feel real. For a moment she doesn’t remember where she is. For a moment it doesn’t matter because it isn’t real anyways. That would explain it well--why she had been so happy. Because it wasn’t real. None of it. Likely she has been alone this whole time and Hajime is exactly what she wants so he is exactly what her mind has conjured up for her...

“Can I hold you?”

She isn’t sure why he would want to. It is because he isn’t real. She makes some sort of attempt to put herself in his arms. He does the rest for her, scooping her into his grasp and propping her up against his body. He holds her head against his chest. His heartbeat is nice. It’s steady. It’s rhythmic. It isn’t hectic and crazed like her own.

She feels his hand. It smooths over her hair and rubs up and down on her back. It is real. It is there. They--the hallucinations, she forces herself to admit--can’t touch her. They can reach out but they never touch her. They never try and when she tries to touch them, friendly or otherwise, they disperse. Hajime is real. He has been real.

He kisses her forehead. “What’s going on?” He asks again.

“I…” She swallows back a sob before it can come out again. “Where’s Atsu?” Agni, she hopes he isn’t home.

“Don’t worry, he’s spending the night with his friend Minko.” He gives her a little squeeze. For a moment she can better hear his heartbeat. She closes her eyes and listens to it. He brushes her tears away with his thumbs. She tries to match her breathing up with the beat of his heart. Slow and steady. Even and level. He is quiet. Patient.

He waits for her to lift her head from his chest before saying anything more. And when he does speak it is much more light-hearted than she anticipated. He cupping her face in his hands and holds her formerly drooping head up. “That position looks terribly uncomfortable.”

He isn’t wrong. She has legs bent back in an awkward ‘w’ and her arms between them, just barely propping her up. She pulls her legs in and draws them up to her chest. Some of the tension loosens.

“Better?”

She nods. “A little.”

“Do you want to sit on the deck, get some fresh air?”

She nods again.

“You don’t have to tell me what that was, but you can if it will help.”

She is still somewhat shaky when she gets to her feet. Her head still dizzy and foggy. She thinks that it might help. She is keeping enough secrets from the man as it is. She bites her lip. Maybe they are right. Maybe she doesn’t deserve him if she can’t even tell him the truth.

“I’m insane.” She mumbles.

He brings her to a halt, stands before her, and firmly clasps his hands around her shoulders. She can feel her head dipping again but she is too tired to hold it upright. “You aren’t…”

“I hear things that aren’t there. Sometimes nothing feels real. Sometimes I feel like everyone is plotting against me. I’m insane.”

Hajime inhales. “I’ve known you for a year now. I think that it’s safe to say that this sort of thing isn’t exactly character defining.”

“This is the first time I wasn’t able to ignore it well. I see them a lot. More often them you know. I can just block them out…”

“Come on.” He hoists her into his arms and carries her outside. He finds his favorite  porch bench and sits, cradling her in his lap. “You can tell me when you see them, you know that right? Even if it’s something little.”

“There’s something wrong with me…” If only she could be normal. If only she could have held out just a little longer. Held out until a day when he wasn’t around to witness it.

“You don’t have to be okay all the time. You’re allowed to be hurt.”

She bunches her hands up in the folds of his shirt.

“I can’t imagine you’re the only one who has some…” he furrows his brows. “Some damage. I’ve heard of soldiers with a lot of similar struggles. War does things to people, Rikka. Especially if you just keep it all inside.” He lightly taps the side of her head. “That’s not good for you. Even if you’re happy, really happy, that stuff is still sitting there in the back of your head waiting for an excuse to come up.”

“But nothing happened! Nothing brought it up!”

He nods, “yeah, sometimes if it sits for too long it just happens.”  He rubs his face. “I never talked about how my wife died. I saw it happen and I pretended like I didn’t. I was always happy for Seukhyun and our crew because someone had to be. I didn’t think about it...until I did.” He pauses. “And then it just hits. I let it sit quiet for so long that it hit hard.”

“My name isn’t even Rikka! How am I supposed to talk about this when I can’t even tell you my real name?” She feels the heat on her palms and, Agni, does she want to unleash it. Her mind. Agni, it is in such disarray that she can’t even…

“You can try. You don’t have to tell me your real name. You don’t have to tell me anything about your past that you don’t want to. Just tell me something so I can help you.”

Maybe it is because her mind has betrayed her once more. Maybe it is simply because he is Hajime. Because he didn’t push her.

But she tells him about her mother and about her father. About Mai and TyLee. And something about Zuko, changing names where she sees fit. Thank Agni no one ever truly knew Azula. He doesn’t put the pieces together. Somehow she feels as though she has only secured her secret. Princess Azula is perfect. Nothing is wrong with Princess Azula. But Azula is unstable, hurt, and worn. Azula is lost. And Rikka is all of that. But Rikka is cared for. Rikka is loved.

Hajime hugs her tighter. “You haven’t told anyone else any of this, have you?”

She shakes her head. “You don’t have to fix me Hajime. I need to…”

“That’s why you wander, isn’t it?”

She nods.  “Something like that.”

“I guess that you’ll have some people to wander with you then.”

“I want to stay here. I like it here. I think that…” She trails off. “I have a family?”

Hajime smiles. “You have family and friends and a pet mongoose-lizard.”

“I’ll tell you  one day.”

“Tell me what?”

“My real name.”

He laughs, “I don’t mind waiting.” He reaches into her pocket and draws out the stone, a small betrothal gem now fixed upon its center. “We have quite a while, yes?”

Azula nods.

She may not have been able to tell him her name, but he knows who she is. He knows Azula better than anyone who does know her name.

That day she learns what it is to be loved. Accepted. She learns to let her walls down, even if it is only to a single soul.

.oOo.

She is surprised to see him standing in her doorway again. She supposes that she shouldn’t be, he has visited her at least once, usually twice, a day. Even still, she was certain that her impulsive antics would have driven him well away.

“You told Zuzu about the other night.” She remarks.

He shakes his head. “Not me. There are kind of a lot of people talking about that.”

Azula cringes.

“It’s not all bad stuff.” He grins. “They said that you inher...are a great actress.”

“They said that I inherited my mother’s acting abilities.” She replies plainly. “Be forward with me, Sokka. I’m not delicate.”

“I know that.” He smiles. “It’s just that Zuko mentioned that you don’t like talking about that.”

The man’s face is fully flushed, she ought to show him at least a little mercy so she gives the discussion a dismissive wave. “What did you come here to tell me?”

“I was actually going to ask you if you, maybe wanted to go do another activity. But this time it won’t be weird.”

“Sure, Sokka. We can do another activity. What do you have in mind?”

“I thought that I’d let you pick this time.”

“My idea of a good time is going to the library and…”

He perks up. “It just so happens that I enjoy a good library. As long as it remains above ground.”

Azula quirks a brow. “And why wouldn’t it?”

“Oh you know, because it’s in the middle of a desert!” He gives a wide and exaggerated sweeping gesture. “And it’s guarded by a crazy, angry owl spirit.”

“Right. Well we don’t have ‘crazy’ owl spirits in our libraries and we aren’t in a desert so I’d wager that we’ll be staying perfectly above ground.” She rises and pushes her chair in. “I’ll send for you when I am dressed.”

.oOo.

By send for him, he didn’t realize that she meant she’d send herself. “That was quick.”

Azula shrugs. “I didn’t bother with the spa this time around. I’m not in a pampering mood today.”

“Then what kind of mood are you in?”

She is quiet for a moment. “I’m not sure exactly.” There is something in her eyes, something distant. He doesn’t think that she is lying but he isn’t sure that she is being entirely truthful.

“You sure about that?”

Another silence. “I’ll be fine, Sokka.”

Curious word choice. He doesn’t call her on it. “Alright, so let's go to this library.” He follows her through the crowd. “What are you planning on reading about?”

“I haven’t decided.”

“I’m planning on trying to read about Fire Nation swords. Maybe learn a thing or two about the stuff like what Master Piandao taught me!”

“Okay.”

“You’re quiet today.”

“I’m always quiet, Sokka.”

“Not when you’re talking about battle tactics and Zuko’s newly implemented policies.”

“We aren’t talking politics or strategies right now. I like to think that I’ve learned to separate that talk from small talk.”

He laughs. “Yeah, according to TyLee you’ve gotten a lot better at talking to people.”

She nods.

“So why don’t you show off your new social skills?”

“They aren’t exactly new anymore.” She replies. “And I’m not in a talking mood.

Sokka frowns. “Is this about the other night? You don’t have to pretend like you had a good time if…”

“It’s not about the other night. It’s not about you at all.”

.oOo.

As charming and semi-comforting as his concern is, she wishes that he would stop pushing. Spirits, the man is persistent in his badgering. Though she supposes that she understands his concern. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” She reiterates.

His expression doesn’t lighten up any.

“Don’t get so gloomy.”

“Sorry.” Sokka mumbles. “It’s just hard for me to be happy when…”

When she’s sucking the joy from the atmosphere around them. At this point even if she faked a smile he’d know that it’s all bullshit. Though he did say that she is a perfectly capable actress. “I’ll...try to enjoy myself. I won’t make any promises though.”

This is enough, the tribesman is smiling again. “Great, because I was planning on making sure that you had a good day.”

She manages a small smile of her own. It has been some time since anyone has so deliberately tried to lift her mood.

He wiggles his brows. “I think that it’s working.”

“Don’t push your luck.” She rolls her eyes as she leans into the large door of the library. “The books on Fire Nation swordsmanship is in the military section. I can show you where that is, I’ve read most of those books already.”

They wander past a grumbling man with frizzy, greying hair reading a scroll about mechanics and past a pregnant woman and her wailing daughter. The disheveled old man cuts mother a glare while one of several librarians bumps into a scrawny teenaged boy.

Sokka stops to help her pick up the scrolls.

“Oh! Princess!” She gives a slight bow. “Is everything to your liking? If I’d have known you’d be coming by I would have had your usual spot reserved. I can get it ready for you.”

“That’s fine Quin-Mei. I’ll be showing Sokka around.”

“Well if there’s anything that I can do to make you comfortable, let me know.”

“Of course.”

“You don’t have to be so formal…” Sokka says after the woman leaves.

“It’s called politeness. Do you have that in the tribes?”

“We have so much politeness in the tribes!” He declares.

Azula cringes, her cheeks flashing a slight pink. “Quiet, Sokka, we’re in a library.”  The man truly does have a habit of embarrassing the both of them.

His face goes red but not quite as red as the fizzy-haired man’s. He picks up his scrolls with an agitated grumble and shuffles to the check out desk.

“Hey Azula, look what I found!” Sokka declares. “Someone hid this scroll in with the military ones.”

He unfurls a children’s tale. The Dragon & The Crane. Azula swallows, it is more than enough to deliver the final blow. It just so happens that he has found the first Fire Nation children’s tale that she had read to Atsu as she tucked the boy into bed.

She tries to keep the conversation going, but she can feel herself fading. Fading until she is only partially engaged in the conversation. She doesn’t quite remember reading anything neither does she really recall walking home.

.oOo.

He has to admit to himself that he is nervous. He isn’t even sure what he has done this time. But then, he gets the suspicion that he hasn’t done anything at all. Earth Kingdom travels or none, she is still Azula. She still has her moods and her reservations. He stuffs his hands into his pockets, if all it takes to upset her is to get a little too loud in a library then maybe she hasn’t changed as much as he had anticipated. Or maybe it is that she can only handle so much secondhand embarrassment.

He ought to leave her to fume silently, but he can’t bring himself to leave the situation so open. She can at least tell him why she went so abruptly cold and silent. He thinks that it will drive him mad if she doesn’t.   He hears her before he even reaches her room. Her cries aren’t muffled, not even slightly masked. His heart drops. Why had he assumed that she was mad? Raava, he is dull minded. Why hadn’t he even thought that she might simply be having an off day? He slaps his own forehead, she had told him that it had nothing to do with him. Thank the spirits that he hadn’t just thrown her door open and prattled off his grievances.

He hesitates in the doorway, she has left it wide open. She is curled up on the bed clutching that stuffed badger-mole tighter than she has gripped anything. Her face is partially buried in the worn fabric. He wonders if he should turn around, he very clearly remembers Katara mentioning that the last time she was ‘off’ she blasted lightning at Zuko and breathed fire. But that was then. That was a long time ago.

Against his better judgement he clears his throat.

Azula looks up from the badger-mole. He expects her to chuck the thing at him, to tell him to leave. Instead she squeezes her eyes shut and grits her teeth.

“Can I sit down?”

She pats the mattress next to her.

“I didn’t do anything, did I?”

She rolls onto her back and her shirt hikes up ever so slightly. Just enough for him to see the edge of another scar that runs across her belly. She drapes the badger-mole over her eyes and takes a sharp breath.

“It’s alright, I’m not judging.” He says. Though it is strange to see her so openly vulnerable. Even still he can see her trying to slow her tears. “I promise, I’m not. If you want to cry, just cry. I won’t even tell Zuko.”

And she does. He thinks that she might be crying harder still. He has an urge to reach out, he lifts his hand from the mattress but stops short, thinking better of it. She was never the touching, cuddling sort.

“They’re dead, Sokka. They’re all dead.”

He cringes. Clearly the wound has reopened. He doesn’t think that had ever been stitched. With a hard swallow he asks, “who are they and what happened?”

She squeezes the badger-mole, her lower lip quivers. “Hajime. They killed Hajime. And Atsu. And...they’re all dead.”