#after decades of hurt she would look back and realize she never truly regretted it in the end OH MY GODDDDD

[dunmesh]

can't stop thinking about dungeon meshi btw. how it comes down to being able to appreciate the hard and painful times because of the moments of happiness you experienced along the way.

it's about falin being able to forgive and look beyond the harsh way things were done- be it their father announcing he will send her away from the village or laios leaving her behind- partly due to her personality, and how she used to prioritize her loved ones' needs and emotions over her own, but also because of the positive impact that road eventually had on her. she knows her family was trying to protect her but what truly made it impossible to regret the path she had to take were the precious memories she made later on- it was learning magic and seeing new places and becoming friends with marcille and of course she couldn't hate it all, she was happy. it's about laios feeling so utterly miserable because on his end, it seemed like nothing good or enjoyable happened to him after leaving home, aside from the letters written by falin. but how long can a child be satisfied with another's happiness which he never got to experience himself?

so it really is beautiful that the series started off with him realizing that this journey allowed him to finally feel that happiness he was yearning for-

-and ended with everyone else realizing it too. when you first read chapter 11 it's just a funny gag about people not understanding laios, but it genuinely was too early for them to share his sentiment. they needed to come to terms with it on their own, with chilchuck opening up to them and senshi resolving the hovering mystery of his past and izutsumi freeing herself and joining their party and marcille facing her greatest fear. the winged lion was taking advantage of the loneliness and anger and pain lingering in laios's heart, but even it couldn't deny this. how, despite everything, he couldn't be satiated and his own happiness couldn't be complete without his friends' happiness too. how it was always about everyone enjoying a meal together.

and then there's marcille, who refused to admit it until the very end. it's in the way she had such a hard time fully accepting eating monsters despite how tasty she found them, not just due to how weird they were but also because she tried rejecting and burying her own pleasure and joy during this entire journey. from the very beginning, she was only willing to endure the pain and suffering.

as if she couldn't accept feeling an ounce of comfort, satisfaction, let alone happiness while falin was suffering on her own. and it might've been laios's reaction as well if all of this had happend a decade ago- i mean, that's exactly what he did back then. blaming himself for leaving her behind, being tormented by her loneliness and absence while falin was actually slowly moving towards a brighter future. it was him that was stuck, not her. but he kept focusing on her pain to ignore how deep the hole in his own heart had become, consumed by guilt to ignore his own agony, or to make sense of it- because maybe he did deserve it after all he had done.

and for that reason marcille was so terrified of admitting there was warmth in what she considered the depths of hell. because it would mean accepting falin going ahead of her and leaving her behind, accepting the inevitable she was trying so hard to deny and the end of her dream.

but it was learning there's joy even in her worst nightmare that allowed her to finally embrace those moments of pleasure that made her life worth living, however short they were. she realized that her pursuit would take away the things that truly mattered to her, that if she had succumbed to her fear of loss she would've been the one hurting her loved ones, just as happened to thistle. laios asking her to use ancient magic for falin's resurrection and then encouraging her to not give up on her desires during the nightmare chapter was a direct parallel to delgal being the one to push thistle down the road of destruction, while both marcille and thistle were trying to protect the people most important to their friends.

but in marcille's case, laios was able to understand her at the end, pulling her back just before she descended to complete ruin. it's truly fascinating how the story is not only about laios being understood but also getting to understand others properly, deeply- it's about mutual understanding, the balance between two people he never managed to maintain before. and i think it's only after seeing thistle's tragedy that he was able to fully realize what might become of marcille down the line. so while delgal put the weight of the world on thistle's shoulders, laios was the one to tell marcille she doesn't have to do that. because even if falin's resurrection hadn't succeeded, they both already know- there's happiness even in the dungeon's pit. and it's by preparing a hearty meal made of her loved one's remains that marcille was able to truly accept it- thus allowing herself to enjoy it to the fullest, embracing the cycle of life, no matter how weird or painful or grotesque it is.

[crystals-and-claws]

[ Mentioning: @chronicparagon 's Harmony ]

The time between each tick of the clock seemed much longer as Cyrian and Mr. Johnson stood in silence. Time always slowed down in that room.

"Harmony was not my savior," the former politician replied eventually. "She was not my light in darkness, she did not .. 'bring me out' of darkness."

Cyrian's body shifted, arms crossing at his chest as his head leaned back. He didn't saw the ceiling he was staring at.

"She was simply somebody that had no business with my grand goals. Somebody I could return to after a day of work and not have to think of said work. Somebody that I could simply talk with, free of the behavioral requirements that my work imposed. She reminded me to not act the same with those I need not keep a role up."

"But you were never truly relaxed around her, were you?" inquired the therapist, whispered voice echoing in the room. Cyrian could feel the shame being sapped from his body as the realization hit him. "You did mention a letter you wrote for her for your closure."

That dammed letter. Cyrian wanted to take it back and rip it up the moment he sent it to be delivered.

"It did anything but give me closure," he growled. "It did not feel as if I said enough in it, but I could barely say anything to begin with. By saying more, I would involve her with the work I wanted to separate her from. It would be just another person that I had no business with being hurt. Eventually I would have done to her what I did to Nerei."

"You did mention you had a dream with Nerei in it. By what you told me, Nerei and Harmony are quite alike. Do you think you approached Harmony at first in the same way you approach your work because she reminded you of Nerei?"

The living statue remembered when he met Harmony. It was during a time he was much more vicious and attempted to lean into the villain persona he tried to create. Sadistic in nature and constantly menacing in mannerisms. Not something he held up for long. It was tiring and not good for PR. But it was how he approached Harmony.

He resented himself for it. For doing the same thing - for consciously choosing to do the same thing he did so many decades ago. Despite knowing better. Outside of this room that resentment would have lingered, but not here.

"Maybe.." he sighed, but then added quickly "but I never one thought of Harmony and Nerei as the same person. Two different people entirely with just a few similar traits.

I think I wanted to prove to myself I was not the same man anymore. With Nerei I was fully aware that by doing what I had done would hurt them — yet I still regreted doing that. I thought that... managing to make somebody that was seemingly just as kind see me as a monster I identify as and not regret it would prove that I am not the same person I was before.

It only reinforced the image of my previous self."

On the ceiling Cyrian looked beyond, the therapist appeared upside down, sitting in his seat. He checked the clock and looked down at the former politican, notebook and pen in hand.

"And that image is?"

The former politician sighed and rubbed the back of his aching neck as he straightened his posture. Mr Johnson was now on front of him, rather than on the ceiling.

This wasn't the easiest question for him to answer. When does one previous self stop and a new one starts? If we are defined by our past, but need not be slaves to it, then what do we do with the past? he thought to himself.

"A person who does what they need to survive. Everything else is just keeping the borderom from being the one that kills me mentally — and I see no reason to harm, physically or emotionally, those that are not a threat of me." he responded with a shrug. "Nothing much changed between those two versions of me."

The therapist wrote down a few things as Cyrian spoke, the notebook blinking at him as if not properly understanding him. Cyrian blinked back at it until it looked somewhere else.

"Well, we're just about done here. Here is my homework for you: make a list of your qualities and flaws before, during and after you gave yourself the title of 'Jailer'. I would like a better idea of your mentality through the hole process of transition," Johnson requested, closing the notebook that folded into itself two more times.

This one would be something he'd chew at for a long time. Tedious, but hopefully not unpleasant.

Cyrian resignated with a sigh. He grabbed his mask from the table as he got up and fastened it over his head and face. "Nothing too difficult."

As he was guided out by his therapist, he could feel the invisible mouths that fed off him detach and the muffled and slowed, reverberating tick of his watch cleared itself and sped up.

By the time he was out the door and in front of the receptionist's desk, barely ten minutes passed propely during their hour-long conversation.

With a short goodbye towards Ms Johnson and his receptionist, he left the building to head back home and work on the six lists. He figured he could mentally track them while sculpting and write them down later.

[tragedyofdevotion]

Love and Loyalty

Xiao has known you ever since he swore loyalty to Rex Lapis. You were his senior, his mentor and the object of his admiration. If possible, he wanted to stay like that forever, fighting by your side and protecting the people of Liyue. However, it seemed fate had different plans for him.

“How could you, y/n? Why would you betray Rex Lapis?” holding up your shoulders, Xiao asked you again and again. As the one closest to you, he had his suspicions about this. And that’s why, he had been spying on you, but he wished that he was just being paranoid. Unfortunately, it seems that his prayers weren’t answered.

“I am sorry to say this, Alatus. But never my loyalty has lied in the Warrior God.” Supported by your spear, you stood proudly under the moonlight, a faraway look in your eyes as you reminisce about your past. Despite the situation, Xiao couldn’t help but thought that you were still as ethereal as the day he first met you.

“Are you talking about the Goddess of Rain? Her passing was truly a tragedy. But it has been more than a century since she has decreased. I thought you have become one of our comrades after overcoming countless struggles together with us, together with the people of Liyue.” It was not that he cannot understand where you are coming from. But Xiao did not want to accept that the days you have spent with him were all a lie.

“Is that the reason why you are joining Osial’s side? You, of all people should know that he is far worse than Rex Lapis.”

“That is not the only reason. But Alatus won’t the able to understand. You are too young.”

He felt irked at the term. Just because you were born a few decades earlier than him, you always brushed him aside when discussing serious matters.

“Please don’t underestimate me. Even though I can’t compare to you, I have lived my fair share of years.”

“Sorry, sorry.” You smiled a little after saying that. Perhaps you thought his response childish. “I didn’t mean to treat you like a kid. But you still haven’t experience love, do you?”

Love, that was a term he had often heard from mortals. He didn’t know or didn’t think that it is necessary to know such useless emotion. But after meeting with you, he was able to encounter both the bliss and agony this feeling had brought upon. If only he would be able to convey it to you honestly…

“I…That’s… Do you love Osial?” He felt a terrible pain from his heart when he realized your implication.

“Yes. I do.” Another pain, worse than any injury he had ever gained from crossing sword with his enemies, ran through his chest.

“But Osial has Beisht as his wife. And I have heard rumors that he has other numerous other concubines.” Collecting himself, he said the most rational thing he could possibly think at the moment. However, he quickly regretted it after seeing the hurt on your face.

“It is alright.” You said with a sad smile. “Because I do not plan for this affection to be known. I do know that I am neither as dignify and graceful as Beisht nor as soft and pretty as his shrine maidens.”

Oh… Just how much he wants to deny your words. In his eyes, there is no one as graceful or pretty as you.

“That is why I just want to help him in the only way I know, by fighting alongside him in his conquest for power as a warrior.” Your heartbroken look changed into one of determination at the last sentence.

Seeing your face, he knew it was useless to try to persuade you to do otherwise and so choose the only path left.

He summoned his spear, hold it against you and said, “That won’t happen if I stop you here.”

“But you won’t. You are far too kind to hurt your own mentor. You better fix that though. I would hesitate to harm you when we meet again in battlefield,” you said, turning your back on him as you start to walk away without a care in the world.

Even though you taught him to never show his back to the enemy, you, yourself, was not following it. Yet, he found himself unable to stab you with his spear like he would always do to his enimes.

While he was being indecisive, you looked back at him and said, “One last advice from your former mentor. Don’t trust Morax. He is not the man you make him out to be.”

At that time, he didn’t understand the meaning of your words.

…

Years had passed. People no longer know you as the proud Glaze Lily of Liyue but as the cunning commander of Osial’s army.

The time is the peak of the Archon war. But imstead of the battlefield, he looked at the terror folding in front of him.

With your spear thrown away to the ground away from you, you struggled like a mad man in Rex Lapis’s hold. However, no matter how strong you were, your strength cannot be compared to that of a God.

“Let me go you scum. Are you going to hurt my master again in front of me?”

He grimaced at the use of such language. However, his God did not seem to mind it very much or if he did, he didn't show it on his face.

But wait. You said a strange thing in your words.

Again? What did you mean again? When had Rex Lapis ever hurt your master before. Perhaps you were talking about the Goddess of Rain? There was no way Rex Lapis would have hurt her. She was his ally.

Or what if he did…

“Your master is ME. I have always been and will always be.” Holding your chin up to meet his gaze, Rex Lapis said firmly.

The God did not deny your words. But Xiao wanted to know more on the subject but hedidn’t dare interject his lord’s conversation and ask him the truth of the matter.

“No, you are not. There are only two beings in Teyvat who I ever thought of as my master. You killed one of them and are you planning to kill another now?”

Tears rolled down your cheeks. From sadness or frustrations, Xiao didn’t know. Maybe both.

“Osial is a monster. He is fated to disappear for the safety of the people.”

“Then what about my Goddess? Did she do anything to anyone? Why did you hurt her!!”

“Dear, you, yourself, know the answer best, don’t you? I thought of her as my best ally. So, I really didn’t want to kill her. But when you refused my proposal to use your service for me, I was left with no choice.”

He was beyond shocked to hear the words. He looked at the other Adepti wondering if he misheard his Lord. Moon Craver looked at him with a look of guilt and pity while Cloud Retainer did not even meet his eyes. At that, he understood that he heard everything right and that everyone except him was already aware of the horrifying truth.

“You called Osial monster. But in my eyes, there is only one monster and it is you," you said hatred bleeding not only from your voice but also from your eyes.

Stone lances rained from the sky, sealing anyone and everyone who dared to go against the Groundbreaker. You watched helplessly towards the sea where your beloved Master has disappeared and bawled like a newborn baby who has lost her mother.

If he swept you away with him, will you be able to attain a little more happiness compared to now.

“Yes, let’s steal her away,” Xiao thought to himself. He might not be able to compare to Rex Lapis in strength but he had confidence that he would not lose to anyone in speed. After he stole you away, the two of you could go to the country of freedom and live a tranquil life unknown to anyone.

When he was lost in his thoughts, Madam Ping held his hand. It seemed that he had unconsciously summoned his spear. Madam Ping looked at him in his eyes and shook her head.

“We are adepti of Liyue and our contract is to serve this country and Rex Lapis. Isn’t that right, Xiao?”

At her words, he began to remember what his duty was and what Rex Lapis has done for him.

His Lord saved him from the bounds of Ancient God.

His Lord freed him from the horrid duty of devouring dreams.

His Lord bestowed him the name “Xiao” and gave him a place in Liyue.

He couldn’t possibly go against his Lord.

After a while, you lost your consciousness. All the events that had happened this day was affecting your mind terribly.

He wasn’t able to move a single step forward as he watched his Lord carried you to his chamber.

For anyone who didn't get the backstory because of my terrible writing

I wrote this fic from Xiao's point of view who was in a "Notice me Senpai" situation with Reader.

For a long time, Morax had been a yandere but before the events in this fic, he was contented in just having their loyalty since he was a gentleman.

Osial knew that Morax killed the Goddess of Rain and recruited reader to work for him in exchange for revenge.

That is when reader fell for Osial. However, Osial only saw them as a talented subordinate until the end.

[suhtorus]

𝗸𝗲𝗲𝗽 𝗺𝗲 𝗶𝗻 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗵𝗲𝗮𝗿𝘁

⥅ eren jaeger / 1.8k words

warnings. manga spoilers, fluff and angst, gender neutral reader

a/n. my entry for anilysium's collab, don't forget to check the masterlist !! thank u sm temi for the beta ♡ @thefairywalker

hope is what makes someone hold onto a promise. and that hope it's worse than the broken promise itself.

—

845.

an autumn-like breeze cooled down the summer afternoon, and with the sky barren of any clouds, it was easier for the sun rays to land on those familiar blond strands.

"over there!"

eren's small hand—even though it was big enough to cover yours—wrapped around your wrist before it tugged you through the crowd. your rapid breaths were all you could hear while you mentally prayed to make it on time, just a couple more steps and you would be within reach, already staring at armin’s frightened face which caused your heart to jump. but what finally managed to send you in a state of despair was the sight of eren shoving the bigger kid away.

“what do you think you’re doing, yeager?!”

“are you hurt?” tears gathered at the corners of your eyes while you helped armin up on his feet, you didn’t have to turn around to know eren had received a punch, his pained wail making you flinch.

armin took your hand and together faced the scene before your eyes, holding onto each other's hands while tears dampened your cheeks.

“leave him alone!” the tremble in your voice was obvious, even after multiple fights with those kids it always ended up the same way. armin and you crying in fear for eren and mikasa's safety.

only this time mikasa was nowhere to be seen.

“shut up!” 

“don’t talk to them like that!” with a kick on the shin, eren managed to keep the bully out of commission for a few seconds. but that was enough for your saviour to arrive.

“leave before i call the garrison.”

relief began to relax your tense stance, you all knew that it wasn’t the moment to be wasting their time in a kid’s fight, the shortage of food seemed to worsen each day and keeping the people on a tight leash became harder as the days went by.

the kid seemed to finally realize he wouldn't win this time, so with a scoff he took a couple of steps back, "this isn't over," his annoyed gaze traveled from eren to you, "and try not to piss your pants next time."

the three of you watched him run away while the rush of adrenaline began to wear out on your bodies and gave in to the tiredness. had mikasa not intervened, the outcome would've been way worse.

"hey," eren was the first one to break the silence, turning towards you and landing a hand on your shoulder. unfortunately, the softness in his voice was your catalyst and soon you allowed the distress to overcome you, "oh no, don't cry!"

it was useless to try to get your tears to stop, falling one after another as your chest racked with broken sobs, "i-i'm sorry i couldn't be o-of help!"

armin watched in worry as eren tried and failed to get you to calm down. he could tell you were scared when you confronted the bully, your hold on his hand so tight he feared you would end up hurting yourselves. but even so, you had pulled through your fear and stood your ground, something he admired from you.

with a tug on your shirt, mikasa signaled you to start walking, her impassive yet reassuring gaze letting you know she was there for you.

"let's go home."

—

the warm steam that blew onto your blotchy face felt soothing, the taste of mrs. yeager's freshly brewed tea successfully relaxing the tightness in your chest as it ran down your throat.

you could already feel the tiredness hitting you all at once, begging you to lie down and close your eyes so you could rest your mind after the afternoon's occurrences. but with eren's eyes observing you, you knew you weren't off the hook yet.

"better?"

not trusting your voice, you hummed and smiled behind the cup resting on your lips, sniffling slightly when a flashback of eren being punched on the face appeared on your mind.

however, he didn't seem to be done with the topic.

"why did you stand up to him if you were so scared? you were lucky he didn't go for you." 

"'cause i didn't want him to keep punching you."

"i don't need your help," his tone gave you the wrong impression. were you bothering him? a frown pulled your lips in a wobbly pout but he was quick to realize his error, "i mean, we should focus on armin, right? he's the one always in trouble."

you rocked your feet back and forth, watching them dangle from the chair as you mulled over his words. he wasn't lying, it was armin who often ended up as the victim of those bullies. at least when neither of you were around to aid him.

"i have a plan!" eren suddenly perked up, eyes brimming with excitement and pride as he obviously found his plan a good one, "dad always says that it's his duty to protect mom because they're married. so, if we get married, i can protect you and we can protect armin—together!"

you couldn't help but gasp, "married?! but we are too little!"

"not now, dummy. when we grow up!"

"what if i cry again and can't protect armin?" you voiced out your biggest worry as you pushed the cup away and made room on the table for your arm, resting your chin on top of it after yawning.

"i'll protect all of us," he didn't even hesitate, “and we have mikasa too.”

the silly promise made so much sense to your 10-year-old brain, which is why you held onto the hope and safety it gave you and agreed.

carla yeager squealed the news to her husband once eren and you had fallen asleep.

—

850.

there wasn't a day where you didn't regret not going with them.

the lively days soon became dull without eren and armin’s excited voices as they discussed the fire and icy lands in armin’s book, mikasa’s reassuring presence gone as well. but you knew you wouldn’t make it through the strenuous military training—or at least that was what you had told yourself.

truthfully, you wondered how were they not scared of continuing with their suicide mission of joining the legion, all those sacrifices just to see what was outside the walls. why couldn’t they be happy with what you already had? it wasn’t much, but you had each other, which was more than what most people could say.

with shiganshina gone, you became one of the refugees that lurked in the streets of trost. the conditions to live growing harsher, food and shelter becoming escarse and a luxury, but eren’s promise gave you enough strength to go on with your days until you landed a job as a waitress at a pub. 

you missed them, all of them.

their names flew from the mouths of the military police and other higher ups that passed by, making you wonder what they were up to. however, when news spread about eren’s abilities to shift into one of those creatures, that old sense of worry shook you to your very core.

was he hurt? mikasa wouldn't let anyone lay a finger on him, but what if they separated them?

multiple scenarios ran through your head, many of them not so pleasing and only worsening your nerves. but if their names kept coming up in the authorities’ conversations after each and every mission, then it meant they were still alive.

unfortunately, all you could do was pray for their well-being and silently beg them to return.

—

854.

after years of not hearing his voice, it took you several seconds to recognize it.

“where– where are we? why–”

“you’ve changed,” his tone was soft yet hints of curiosity sept through as he marveled at you, “you look older..." prettier, he wanted to say.

having spent so many years without the intensity of his gaze, you realized you had grown unused to it, “you’ve changed too.”

it seemed like everyone had disappeared, except for you and him. dunes of fine sand slithered under your feet and a bright light illuminated the starry sky, converging by the horizon and causing his green eyes to shine in a way you had never seen before.

“eren… what’s all this?”

one moment you were surrounded by chaos, people screaming while an army of colossal titans walked south and eren declared war against the rest of the world; and the next it all had gone quiet, a man—eren—standing next to you while holding your hand.

"they will pay, and then we will be free," his thumb rubbed the skin on the back of your hand gently.

you caught the way his gaze hardened for a second, rage clear in his features but what confused you the most was the amount of hurt swirling in his eyes.

​​what did he mean by 'they'? you were aware of marley's feelings towards the eldians but was it truly that bad? there were so many questions you wanted to ask, but something told you that you didn’t have enough time so you chose to stick to the most important ones. 

“how's mikasa? armin... is it true? he’s the colossal now?”

eren pulled you closer to him by tugging on your hand, cradling the side of your face with his free hand as a smile took over his lips.

"mikasa's busy kicking everyone's asses," he joked and you couldn't help but laugh, relieved at the sudden lightness in his voice. your eyes closed briefly when he leaned forward and rested his forehead against yours, licking his lips before continuing, "armin... yeah, he's the colossal. looks like i need to find another excuse to marry you, hm?” 

you found it unfair how after almost a decade, he could still hold such a power over your heart, the butterflies in your stomach feeling worse than what you recalled.

“you remember?”

he didn't miss the hope in your tone, his own heart aching at the thought of you assuming he had forgotten about your existence. there wasn't a day where he hadn't wondered about your well-being, were you safe? had a titan stole your life just like they had done with his mom? it was armin and mikasa who consoled him whenever the intrusive thoughts became too much to his already stressed mind.

“i never forgot.”

it was subtle, the way that kids promise evolved into a lifetime vow—but neither of you minded.

“i need you to promise me one more thing," he murmured, his breath fanning over your lips while your own faltered at his proximity.

“you’re leaving again,” it wasn't a question.

“i have to.”

it pained him to no end, but it had to be done. the warmth of his lips touched your forehead, your cheeks, and lips; staying longer on the latter while your hearts synchronized for a moment, sharing years worth of affection.

"stay here, on the island. find somewhere safe to stay until it all ends.”

a mere murmur on your lips, that was all it took to harm your hopeful soul.

"and don't wait for me."

[knjsnoona]

Restoration

genre: smut || slice of life pairing: jin x reader word Count: 10.1k rating: 18+ warnings: language, light dom!jin, explicit sexual descriptions, choking, fingering summary: Return to your childhood hone with your partner, Jin only to discover how much it’s changed. project: this part of the bcc summer games event~ it’s was for the image prompt which is the one under the name of the fic in the banner lol this was meant to be short, but then i included this whole first half smh credits: a HUGE thank you goes to my amazing beta reader @destructiveasparagus​ ! helped me find where my weaknesses lie and super incredibly helpful in how to learn from my mistakes! thank you so so much! i hope to improve with my future works!

It had been a long time since you’d been to your hometown, so long you barely recognized it as you drove in with your fiancé. Streets you once ran around on as a child—knowing each backstreet like the back of your hand—now seemed like the paths of a maze; roads that stirred distant memories of laughter and joy. 

Eyes catching new shops where your favorite childhood hangouts once stood, a dull ache laced with both nostalgia and discomfort begins to stir within you. It seems the town had decided to be more modern… more suburban you guessed. It kind of made you sad if you were honest with yourself. You were expecting to return to the home you once loved, and to be bathed in the memories of each corner, shop, and alley.

Becoming more frustrated with each new sight you didn’t recognize, you sink into your seat releasing a sigh. Crossing your arms loosely over your chest, you look down at your knees. Chewing the inside of your cheek, you pondered what your neighborhood would look like. You hoped against hope that at least that small corner of your memories wouldn’t be betrayed. 

“You okay?”

Catching your attention, you look to the side at your fiancé who had turned to look at you as he made a stop at a red light. His handsome features twisted into concern, which brought a small smile to your lips. Softly nodding, you try to assuage his worries.

“I’m fine, Seokjin. Just realizing how long it’s been since I was home is all,” melancholy weaving into your voice, gaze forlornly sweeping out the windows of the vehicle again. 

“Changed that much, huh?” eyes still on you, every so often shuffling to make sure the street light hadn’t changed yet. 

You nod, watching as a couple of teenage girls walk with some name brand iced coffees in their hands, eyes glued to their phones, as they giggled about something mundane. Feeling like a creep for staring, you shake your head and look back at the man by your side. “It’s definitely changed.... too much.”

God, you’d never identified with a boomer harder than you did at this very moment. Words of when I was kid at the tip of your tongue, wanting to rant about all the things you remembered as a kid and how it had been ruined now. You’d never regretted leaving home before, not until this moment. All of your treasured spots, destroyed by gentrification. How depressing. 

But then you look at what you had gained from your departure from home and you realize how silly you’re being. You had found tons of struggle out in the world on your own. Learned what it was like to truly live in a woman’s world; having to work twice as hard for half the pay of a man; earning the way you had to always be cautious and on the lookout for dangers that lurked around every corner when the sun went down; learned how to pick yourself back up and work harder, when you were passed up on a promotion in favor of the manager’s son. 

But you made it through every obstacle. You were a fighter, and never shied away from fighting to get what you wanted. To deal with the dangers of walking around at night, you took self defense classes. You quit the job that underpaid you. And when the manager at that other job finally offered you that promotion, you gave them your two weeks. You decided to take a position at a startup company that saw your worth, valued your opinions and took your ideas into consideration. A company where you were promoted and given more power to help it grow. It had grown into a multimillion-dollar business. Whose technology had been implemented in every hospital in the country. And the genius behind its creation and production sat by your side.

Kim Seokjin had been a godsend. You’d bumped into him one night at a bar after a particularly rough day of work. You had dropped into the seat beside him, not sparing a single glance his way as you ordered a beer. Shoulders slumping, you rubbed at your eyes in frustration pushing your tears back in. Noticing your distress, he reached out to you. He asked after your well being, taking you by surprise. Cautiously you spoke to him that night, only to be pleasantly surprised by his kind nature. While sharing the struggles of your days with each other, he brought up his start up and how he was looking to fill the position. Handing you a card before you both parted ways, he offered you a position without even knowing your qualifications. 

Long story short, you took the position, worked your way up and fell in love with the company's CEO. Of course, there were those that always felt the need to fill the office with unnecessary drama. Hushed whispers in the break rooms, and muttered words across the cubicles of how you had slept your way to the top. But you shrugged them all off, no water off a duck’s back right? Besides, how do you sleep your way to the top of a tiny startup? There was no top or bottom. The tomfoolery of the envious, honestly.

The car jerking into motion brings you back to the present. Blinking the memories of the past decade or so out of the way. Vision returning to your present day home town, suddenly not so bothered by the changes. Your home had grown up and adapted, just as you had. That thought alone brings a smile to your face. A hand slipping over your thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze, making you completely beam as you take Jin's hand in your own ringed hand. Placing a soft kiss on the back of his hand, as you hold it tenderly in your lap, his quiet laugh filling the space in the car as you continued on your way.

Some ten minutes later, you pull up the front of your childhood home; warmth filling your chest as you notice how little it’s changed. Aside from a few cosmetic changes it was still the same. And there they were, all the memories rushing in at once. The feelings you had been anticipating finally hit you. Now you felt like you were truly home as you were surrounded by all the wonderful memories of your childhood. 

A gentle hand on your lower back brings you back, you smile up at Jin who stands by your side. A reassuring smile adorns his plush lips, as he rubs small circles on your back in a show of support and affection.

“You ready?”

Taking one large lung full of air, you hold it for a couple beats before deflating and nodding up at him. The steadying warmth of his hand on your lower back fills you with all the confidence you needed as you made your way up the stone patch. 

Worries of how your family would react to you being back niggling the back of your mind. You tried to keep in touch as much as you could but there were times it was almost impossible due to financial stability or work load. Damn, a small bit of guilt began to bloom in your chest. So you stand frozen, finger just a few inches from the doorbell. Maybe you should’ve called before showing up. 

Sensing your internal struggle, Jin wraps his arm around your shoulder, pulling you into his side. Plush lips press to the crown of your head leaving a quick kiss. “Everything’s going to be fine, babe,” he whispers into your hair. 

“How do you know? I mean- I’ve been gone so long… they have to be angry with me. What if they think I don't care?” you fret, teeth gnawing at the inside of your bottom lip, hands twisting into the hem of your shirt, wrinkling the smooth fabric in the anxiety. 

Chuckling softly, the arm around you turns you to face the tall male. Eyes roam your face, a warmth in them that always somehow seem to soothe your nerves. And sooth they did as you could feel your worries begin to ebb away. 

“Hey, none of that,” he chastises, as he presses his hand lightly to your jaw, thumb tugging your bottom lip down. “You’re going to chew yourself raw. And we don’t want that. I don’t want you hurting yourself.” He places a gentle kiss on your lips as if to soothe away any stinging there.

Your lips can’t help but spread into a smile at how he was being such a mother hen. He was always like this, not just with you but with his employees as well. It’s what made him such a good boss, and an even better partner. Lady luck was feeling extremely generous the day she led you to Jin in that quaint bar.

Returning your smile, he quickly places multiple kisses around your face—on your nose, your cheeks, and your forehead. Arms wrapping around your waist to hold you close, as you giggle at the onslaught of kisses he bestowed you with. The sound of his mirth joining yours, pulling back to hold your cheeks gently. Eyes looking into your own as he assures you, “Everything is going to be fine, so stop stressing for once. We’re here to relax okay?”

Sighing, you nod with a smile still perched on your face. “You’re the best, you know that?”

“Of course, I am. And the most handsome!” all the confidence in the world seeping out of his words, smugness painting over his pretty features. 

You scoff playfully, smacking his arm. “And yet you like claiming you’re humble,” shaking your head you turn back to the door and ring the doorbell without hesitation. 

“Well, I’m not bragging if it’s a fact,” comes his witty retort which has your eyes rolling. This was nothing new with him, the man knew he was good looking. I mean you’d have to be blind to not think so as well. But you know, can’t let his ego inflate too big. 

“I don’t know… I've seen better looking,” you shrug nonchalantly as you press the doorbell again, hoping someone was actually home. Yeah, you definitely should’ve called ahead. 

“What? Where? Who is he!? Wait, are you talking about that kid in marketing? What’s his name?” he instantly barrages you with a succession of questions, jealousy bleeding into his tone. “That pretty boy with the deep voice! You-”

He’s suddenly cut off by the jingling of a handle and the lock being turned, as the door swings open. Your mother stands before you, surprise marring her features. Features that remained the same after all these years, a few wrinkles showing her age joined the painting that was your mother’s face. You’d pictured—imagined—scenarios of seeing her again, of how it would go but the feelings you felt now were far more intense than anything your mind could conjure up. . 

You were sure the shock she wore was mirrored by you, as you stood there taking the other in. Your heart hammered away at your chest, pumping emotions into every vein throughout your body until it began to leak out of your eyes. As the first drop made it’s journey down your cheek, you stepped forward prompting your mother to mirror your actions, crashing into each other's arms. You didn’t realize you could miss someone so much and up until that point had been unaware that you had missed being held in the arms of your mother.

You could feel her tears seep through the shirt on your shoulder, happy greetings and words blubbered in excitement. Laughing you pull back enough to look at her, a watery smile greeting you. 

“I’ve missed you, Momma,” your voice trembling with the emotions overtaking you. 

“I’ve missed you too, sweet pea. I’m so happy to see you safe and healthy. I was worried you weren’t eating well this whole time. I know how you can get, you get too involved in what you’re working on and forget to eat,” your mother rambles on, word vomit just pouring out of her. All the words she hasn’t been able to share with you now fill the space between you. As a teenager you would’ve been annoyed, but now as a grown adult you were endeared by her light nagging. 

“She still does that,” Jin's voice catching both of your attention. “Not eat, I mean.”

You turn to him, a self-satisfied smile on his lips, and an incredulous look on yours. Wow, not even two minutes, and he was already selling you out to your mother. You shake your head at him, eyes trying to signal for him to stop. He simply chuckles back.

“Oh is that right?” Your mother gives you a look, before looking back at your handsome partner. “And who might this be?” Eyebrows raise in question to you. 

“Oh! I’m so sorry. Momma, this is my, um, fiancé, Kim Seokjin. Jin this is my mother,” you awkwardly introduce them. Biting the corner of your lip as you look at your mother out of the corner of your eye. 

She looks at you, surprised at your engaged status, which you hadn’t had the chance to bring up during the brief, rare calls home. You can see the message hidden in her eyes, we’ll talk about this later, before turning to Jin. “It's a pleasure to finally meet you. My, you’re a handsome one.”

You close your eyes and internally groan before turning to Jin pointing a cocky smile your way. He sure was annoying when he was proven right. Gloating prick.

He gives you a quick eyebrow wiggle before turning to smile at your mother. “You’re too kind, really,” acting embarrassed, as he rubs the back of his neck and bows in gratitude once more.

“Oh! And he’s modest!” your mothers cheers delightedly.

Wow, he pulled the fake modesty card. You shake your head at him as you quietly scoff, lips almost quirked in a smile, as he winks at you. He was something else. But he was your something else. He was worth it. Headaches, terrible jokes and all.

“So… is anyone else home?” you questioned, curious as to whether your father, or if any of your siblings, were around. You weren’t sure if they’d be as welcoming as your mother, but her warmth and acceptance of you returning gave you the confidence to continue forward. 

Your mother nods at you excitedly, wrapping an arm around yours and moving you towards the door. Jin follows behind amused as your mother explains how one of your aunts was visiting with her family, and how a couple of your siblings were in town. She went a mile a minute, spewing out even the latest family gossip—your father’s brother had cheated on his wife, your cousin had come out of the closet after being caught mid act (“What a scandalous event that was!”) and even how your mother’s eldest sister had beat breast cancer. 

You sighed happily as you let your mother lead the way, Jin flanking behind you. Man it felt good to be home.

“We got incredibly lucky,” you said loudly, as you placed a small pile of folded clothes in a drawer. Pacing back over to the suitcase on the bed, pulling out your underwear to place in the same drawer to one side. 

“What?” Jin called from the room over. 

“I said we got lucky!” you replied, voice louder than before.

“Lucky?”

“Yeah. We‘re lucky they didn’t charge a cancellation fee at the hotel.” 

Your mother, after making the rounds with the family, had insisted you stay in your old room. You were surprised that it had remained as you had left it. You were sure it would’ve been turned into a home gym by now, or a man cave for your brother that was still home. The fact that it was still intact, filled you with emotion. Your mother must have held out hope you’d come back, so when she insisted you agreed, unable to deny her request.

Of course there was the task of cancelling your hotel reservation, which everyone knows last minute cancellations come with some hefty cancellation fees. You felt bad as you had dialed the number on your cell, but Jin assured you it was fine and was worth it if you were happy. 

As Jin worked on unloading the luggage, you spoke with the concierge who upon looking up the reservation, gifted you with the surprise of not incurring a late fee. You had been surprised and tried to verify the cancellation policy to which the male on the other end confirmed there would be no charge and wished you a pleasant day. You returned the sentiment as you hung up and looked at your partner in mild stupor before relaying the information to which he raised his eyebrows and shrugged, bringing in the rest of your belongings. 

“You're still stuck on that?” he points out, humor ringing in his voice. 

“Well, isn’t it a bit surprising to you?” you huff, cheeks puffing a bit in a pout. 

“I guess…” he trails off momentarily. You could hear the gears turning before he returned with, “Maybe it’s because they saw who I was.”

“What? Why would that matter?” You had a feeling you knew where this was going, and could already feel your eyes preemptively rolling.

“Because, I’m the youngest, most handsome CEO in the nation.” A wheezing laugh following his words, almost sounding like windshield wipers.

Your eyes roll so hard, you see the back of your skull, and into an alternate universe. Why did you put up with him again? And as the sound of a door opening fills the space, you remember one of the reasons as he walks through the door. Towel wrapped loosely around his hips, muscles flexing as he rubbed his hair dry with another towel, he stood in all his glory. Your eyes chase drops of water running down his wet skin, swallowing hard where they disappear into the material knotted around his narrow hips. 

“Sweetheart, you’re making me blush with all the ogling,” he chuckles smugly. “I get it though.”

You snap out of your daze, eyes narrowing at his cocky face in annoyance. Shaking your head, you choose to ignore him—turning back to your bag, grabbing some of your toiletries to place on the dresser. Distracted by your task you don’t notice Jin walk up behind you, until you’re tugged back into his wet torso. 

“You know,” he mutters into your ear, “I haven’t forgotten that little quip from earlier.” One of his large hands slides up your body, finding its home wrapped around your jaw. He tilts your head back into his shoulder, his other arm wrapping around your waist to pull you further into his form. “You think that kid in the office is better looking than me.”

You take a few calming breaths, body becoming alert with excitement as Jin invades your space. Every word and touch begins to stir desire within you.

“I never said that. You assumed… you know what they say about when you assume,” you can’t help but gibe, lips tugging up in a smirk.

A growl rumbles through you as the grip on your jaw tightens slightly. “Don't be a smart ass… I’ve seen the way you look at him, when you think no one is aware. I’m not an idiot.” 

You chuckle, unable to help yourself. His jealous words turn you on more than they should. 

“I can’t help it if he’s pretty to look at,” you state complacently.

“Pretty?” he chuckles at your audacity, grip tightening slightly around your jaw. Swinging your jaw away from the direction of his face, the feel of his lips brushing the shell of your ear makes you shiver. “You do look at him. Tell me, do you fantasize about him?”

Your eyes shut, the warmth of his breath traveling through your trapped body; an aching starting to pulse between your thighs. Hands moving back to rest on his towel covered thighs to help maintain balance, but more importantly to assist in feeling grounded.

“You do, don't you…?” His nose nuzzles at your ear, lips pressing behind your ear. “Is that why you stare? Because you imagine what it would be like to have him inside you?” the arm wrapped around your waist loosens, hand traveling south to the apex of your thighs. 

You bite your lip, unable to answer his questions. His touch leaves trails of flames wherever they roam, burning any words from you. His words are simmering your blood. 

“Is your silence an admission?” he says with a slight edge to his voice. “You imagine him sliding into you? Taking you? As if you're his?” His grip on your jaw moves to your throat, fingers wrapping deliciously around the smooth muscle and flesh. 

“You’ll never be his,” he hisses. The hand between your thighs grips your core tightly, a whine escaping your lips at the slight pain and pleasure. “This,” grip tightening for emphasis, “is mine! Your cunt belongs to me. My cock will be the only one to ever claim it,” Jin growls into your ear, hips pressing his hard member into your ass. 

Fuck, that was enough to ruin your underwear. His words release the floodgates, slick escaping your lower lips to soak your panties. The growl rumbling against your back, and vibrating in your ear has your mind blanking for a moment, thighs clenching involuntarily around his wrist.

“Turned on by that?” he crows, self gratification filling every word. “Do you like hearing me claim you? The affirmation that no other man will ever ruin this pretty pussy like me?”

Your breath hitches, a strong pulse running through your body like seismic activity relaying that an eruption is imminent. With the way Jin is rutting into your back, hand gently petting your mound, it was only a matter of time before he had you bursting in ecstasy. 

His lips lightly trail up and down the shell of your ear, removing his hand from your throat to grip at your jaw and tilt your face up at him. Faces so close, your noses brush, breaths intermingling. He pulls back his head, looking down at you as the corner of his lip lifts in smirk just as he shoves his other hand under the band of your underwear. Long, warm fingers softly run over your lips, massaging gentle circles into them. 

Licking his luscious lips, he hisses when one his fingers swipes between your lips. “Fuck,” he groans, biting his thick lip. “You’re this wet from a few words... '' A finger swirling around your opening, spreading your juices. The digit slides up to your sensitive nub, giving it the same attention. Pressing down with a bit of pressure, rolling it around making you arch your back, eyes clenching. 

You feel Jin nudge your nose with his own, brushing his lips against yours. Eyes fluttering open, they meet his dark eyes, completely blow black from his arousal. Pink muscle slipping from his lips, sliding across yours teasingly while his hips slowly press against yours to get a bit of relief as your hands grip the towel resting over his flexing thighs. Your lips part, inviting his devilish tongue in, the prelude of you parting your legs for his length. 

Taking the invitation, Jin shoves his tongue into your awaiting mouth. The moist muscle wrestling with yours as you kiss each other desperately. Both of you beyond the point of slow and steady when he shoves two digits into your core, his mouth trapping the groan he rips out of you. With no patience, the digits set a steady pace as his palm presses into your clit. Your hips buck at the sudden onslaught of stimulation. Your lips crash against each other like waves, teeth clacking as you try to get closer. 

He pulls back from the kiss provoking a whine from you. His jaw clenches as his fingers fuck into your hole, scissoring your walls, preparing you for him. You press your ass into him, feeling how hard he is, your walls quiver around his fingers. 

“No more,” you moan quietly. 

“What’s wrong, baby? Too much?” he lazily grins down at you, grinding the palm of his palm down on your nub.

Your eyebrows pinch at the stimulation, lips parting without a sound escaping before you’re able to gather your senses again. “No… no more foreplay.” Your lusty gaze meets his, your chest heaving as you try to even it out. “I want you inside me now,” reaffirming how it was only him you wanted. 

He pulls you into a hard kiss, pulling his hand out of your pants. Releasing your jaw, he yanks your pants and underwear down your thighs. Lifting your legs to kick them off, he rotates your bodies to walk you back into the bed, nearly ripping your shirt off you. You almost fall as your legs hit the bed, ripping his lips from yours. You both gasp for air as you stare at each other for a moment. 

His hand slides into your hair, scratching soothingly at your scalp before gripping it in a firm hold. Turning your face to the side, he leans in, licking a stripe up your neck to your ear. He takes the lobe of your ear between his teeth teasingly tugging it. Pressing a kiss to the shell of your ear, he nuzzles the hair behind it, breath tickling your ear pleasurably.

“Turn around. I want you bent over this bed, with your ass in the air for me. I want to see how your cunt weeps for me.” 

His words strike a hard cord within you, goosebumps appearing all over your flesh. You bite your lip, turning your body away from him and move into position. Feeling it wasn’t enough, he uses the grip on your strands to push you down further into the comforter, back completely arched now. 

Strands slipping between his fingers as he removes his hand, the other palms your ass cheek, pulling it to the side to look at your core. The groan that leaves him makes you clench. 

“Look how pretty… so wet and inviting. Look how your hole clenches, begging for my dick.” His other hand grabs onto the opposite cheek, pulling it away to open you even more to him. Pressing his hips to yours, he slots his length against your soaked lips. Slowly rubbing his member up and down, lubricating himself with your slick.

Every word makes you clench, the desire raging inside you growing desperate for him to fill you. Every throb of the thick shaft almost makes you delirious. 

Eyes previously squeezed shut flutter open, as your hands grip the comforter. A childish print catches your attention, suddenly the realization hits you. You’re back at your childhood home, in a house full of relatives. You weren’t alone in this house, and they weren’t asleep. Now that you had awareness, you could hear them beyond the door chattering. You had let lust get away with you. 

“Jin wait…” you hiss.

He stops all movement, one of hands gently petting your lower back. “Did I hurt you? Are you okay?” worry slipping into his words.

“No no. You didn’t hurt me. I just… I realized we’re not alone. We can’t do this here. My family is right out there,” you explain in a loud whisper, trying to look at him over your shoulder.

Silence reigns for a moment.

“So?” Jin's single word pierces the quiet.

“What?” you question, baffled by his nonchalance.

“What does that matter?” He shifts before pressing against you, the head of his cock prodding at your bud. He leans over your back, hands resting on your hips. “It doesn’t bother me, and it never has to you either. You never complain when I fuck you in my office, surrounded by all of our coworkers... our employees.” 

You swallow hard.

“In fact, you love initiating it. Teasing me in front of them, riling me up.” His hips thrust, length slipping between your lower lips, cushioned comfortably between them.

“T-that’s different.” you try to argue, but his throbbing manhood against you makes it hard. “Thi-this is my family… who I haven't seen in a long time. I can’t h-have them thinking badly of me.”

He’s quiet but for a minute before wrapping a hand around your mouth. “Then you better keep quiet,” is the quick warning he hisses in your ear as he pushes his length into you.

His hand traps the sound of your yelp. Your walls stretch deliciously but sting at his abrupt intrusion as he buries himself completely. He doesn’t move, allowing you to adjust, placing gentle kisses over your shoulder. His hand massages circles into your hip. 

Unable to verbally notify him it was okay to move, you opt for using your hips as you push back against him. Getting the hint, his hips pull back slowly before pushing back in at the same agonizingly passive pace. Lips still pressing kisses to your soft skin, hips lazily snapping into you . 

You whine, wanting more. 

“Needy already,” he chuckles and places one last kiss to your flesh before standing to his full height. Both hands now resting on your hips, pulling you back so he can grind himself inside your spongy walls. “Remember, not a sound. Your family is out there.”

What a jackass, you can’t help but think as you glare back at him, that damn cocky smile on his lips. You open your mouth to retort but it quickly snaps shut as he pulls back and snaps back in. The action was so hard, you almost thought he’d speared straight into your stomach. 

He slides out slowly again before plunging roughly back in. Filling you so completely, each hard impale burning pleasurably. Hands sliding to push your cheeks apart, he watches himself disappear between your folds as he sets a steady pace. 

The sound of your sex gushing with each probe of his shaft makes you grow wetter. Slick running down the inside of your thighs, as he pushes it out of you, clit pulsing with each invasion. 

It isn’t long before he angles his hips, in search of that spot he enjoys so much. It’s with one particular push that he finds it, as you lifted onto your toes and arched your back signaling him. A whine trapped behind teeth that bite down hard on your lips as he hits it again is all the confirmation he needs.

He sets about burrowing into you, head meeting that patch of spongy tissue over and over;building an inferno in the pit of your stomach with each visit. Your legs begin to tremble as you part your lips. 

“H-harder, please,” you quietly moan, almost breathless, trying to keep your volume down. 

“Whatever my baby wants, she gets.” His thrusts turn piercing. Hips smacking into yours hard, hands gripping you bruisingly hard. Over the smacks of your hips that filled the room, you can hear him groan softly with each shove. It made you clench around him, causing his hips to stutter briefly before returning to their bruising pace.

“Your pussy is so hot and wet. You're soaking my thighs baby,” he groans out, smacking into you harder. “Squeezing me so tight, begging me to fuck you harder.” 

A smack to your behind pulls a yelp from you. Panicking, you bring a hand to cover your mouth, hoping no one heard that. Worry niggling at you again before it’s promptly fucked right out of you by Jin's hips speeding up their brutal pace. 

“I wish I could hear you baby,” he rasps, sounding just as breathless as you are. “I want to hear you moan for me… begging to cum… I want to hear you scream my name.”

You feel the bed dip beside you, as he places a foot down. Elevating his leg, he creates a new angle to spear your core. Hands finding purchase above your hips, he anchors his hold, hips pulled back. 

“Remember… we don't want to get found out.”

With those words he pushes into you quickly and roughly. Each thrust drags you to and fro on the bed, rubbing your nipples raw against the material. His hips unrelenting in their assault of you. Pistoning deep, making sure to brush your g-spot with each insertion. 

His actions have you crying into the comforter, as it catches and cushions your cries, groans and mantras of his name. Hands clenching the material so tight, your fingers were going numb. You wanted to fuck back into him, but his tight grip on you and his brutal pace allowed no room to. 

“Fuck your so good to me. Your pussy is so perfect. So tight and warm. And it's. Only. Mine.” Accentuating each word with a sharp thrust. Laying his full claim to your core.

Fingers wrapping in your tangled strands, he guides you to stand, back leaning against his chest as the other hand grips your throat, fingers pressing down on your pressure points. The pressure fueling the fire of your impending orgasm, as the new angle only adds fuel to the already roaring wildfire. 

“Who does your cunt belong to?” he growls into your ear.

You hardly breath, nevermind gracing him with an answer. But as he adds pressure to your throat, you gasp out, “You.”

“That’s right,” he moans, self-satisfied, slowing his pace to grind into you slow and deep. “Mine. Only mine to ruin. Only mine to paint with my cum.” 

His words hit you hard, as you clench hard around him, groaning in sync with him as waves pulse through you. You were so close, you knew he could tell as the fingers previously tangled in your hair, now pressed circles into the bundle of nerves buried in your folds. 

You throw your head back, gasps of air leaving your parted lips. Your nails dig into the sweaty flesh of his thighs, hips bucking back into his. You try your hardest to not be too loud, as your face twists into nothing but pure pleasure. 

You were so close, so close you were quietly pleading Jin to cum. His name becomes a prayer on your lips, that fuels his own need. The sound of his name desperately falling from your lips makes him almost feral in the way he fucks you. Plunging into you so hard and fast, that the unmistakable sounds of flesh slapping flesh could be heard through the room, the sound accompanied by the filthy sounds of your dripping arousal. 

A guttural moan leaves your lips, as he pinches your bud, which he promptly cuts off by slotting his mouth over yours. Kissing you greedly, wanting to swallow every wanton sound.

The next moment, a fire spreads through your veins, as your whole body seizes at the arrival of your orgasm. Loud moans of pleasure, swallowed as promised by Jin's mouth as he kisses you sloppily. Your hips buck into his digits as they continue to stimulate your nub. 

Jin’s hips continue to push through your ever tightening walls and begin to stutter in their assault, just before he pushes deep inside as you feel him paint your walls. Now it’s your turn to ingest all the sounds of his orgasm. The hand around your throat tightens, making you light headed with pleasure, as his other hand over stimulates your nub, thighs tightening to stop him. 

Milking himself dry, he soon slows down and comes to a complete stop. Pulling your lips apart, a string of saliva keeps your bruised lips connected. The grip around your hips sustains your standing position, as your legs feel weak post orgasm. 

Jin’s ever softening length, slips out of you making you both shiver. Gentle as he could be, he guides you to take a seat on the bed. 

“Are you okay? Did I hurt you at all?” He looks you over, checking for any bruises from his manhandling.

This is what made him such an amazing lover. How caring he is about his partner after making love to them. It was always so fascinating to see him turn from domineering to self-effacing. Always taking care to ask how you felt after, soothing any places he may have gone too far and holding you gently in his arms. 

It simply warms your heart, as you smile up at his broad shouldered form standing before you. Placing a hand over the one he’d placed on your cheek and giving it a reassuring squeeze, you say, “I’m fine, Jin. I always am when I'm with you,” 

He beams down at you just before he places a kiss lovingly on your forehead. Thumb caressing your cheek, resting his forehead against yours. A warmth radiating from his eyes as he traps you in his gaze. 

“I love you.”

Your heart skips a beat at the words said so simply, stomach a buzz with a storm of bees. You would never tire of hearing him say them to you, always feeling like the first time he’d confessed the depth of his feelings. 

“I love you more,” you return, biting your lip giddily. 

A smile reaches his eyes, as he grins widely. His cheeks puff up, giving him the look of an adorable squirrel storing acorns. His lips press to yours, no movement necessary. Just a simple press, feeling more intimate than what you had previously been engaged in. 

He pulls back with a questioning look in his eyes, when he feels you shiver, almost spilling from his lips before you speak.

“Sorry, um just felt it slipping out of me,” you murmur, embarrassed, eyes not meeting his.

He chuckles, wide shoulders shaking in his mirth. Kissing you again he mutters, “You’re so cute sometimes.” 

Slipping an arm around your back and one beneath your knees, he lifts you effortlessly. You wrap your arms around his neck, looking at him in confusion. He ignores your inquisitive eyes, making his way to the door he’d left not long before that led to your en suite bathroom.

“I think we should take a shower.”

“You just had a shower.”

“Yes, but after working up a sweat I need another, and together we can help preserve water.”

You roll your eyes, skeptical of him. “Sure, but no funny business!”

“No promises.”

You disappear into the bathroom with you protesting and Jin laughing.

You had been back home for a couple of days, and it had been enjoyable to say the least. Getting settled in, introducing Jin to more of your family that stopped by when they heard about your return, catching up with the extended family, and even some of your friends who still lived in town. 

Jin seemed happy to be able to relax, your family welcoming him completely. He had admitted to you how much he appreciated being welcomed with open arms. He loved how large your family was, and the affection they shared so easily, compared to his small family of just his parents and himself. 

You knew he also loved that they ate up his terrible jokes like hotcakes. Not to mention how your mother seemed to love cooking him meals, always blushing when he praised the meals and asking for seconds. It was also obvious how much your family stroked his ego when they complimented his looks. You knew this would be bad once the time came for you to go back to your shared home, ego so inflated you weren’t sure you’d be able to fit in the car with him. But you’d be lying if you said you weren’t content at how things had turned out. 

You had only gone out once since arriving, taking a stroll through the new town center, hands held in his as he listened attentively to you recount tales of your childhood. Every so often you’d stop and point out a location, describing what once took up residence in the spot of a newly erected business or apartment complex. You had stayed out till the sun had begun to make its descent, ice creams in hand as you walked back to your home.

It was that same evening upon returning home to have dinner with your family—filling your family in on your adventures—that your mother informed you about the state of your favorite place growing up. Feeling your heart drop, as she described it in more detail. When you had made your way to your room afterwards, Jin had stopped you and asked you if you wanted to visit the location. After hearing your mother’s disheartening news you weren’t sure, but Jin simply encouraged you to go see it with your own eyes.

That’s how you now found yourself tripping over a root as you trekked through the small forest not far from your parent’s home. A large hand steadying you before you eat dirt, you murmur a thank you before continuing on your way. It’s not long before you reach a clearing, that only cements your mother’s words as true. Your sad eyes survey the once beautiful lake, now nothing but a public garbage disposal. The water was murky, filled with so much debris and garbage it looked like sludge. The land surrounding the water was no better. The once pristine swimming hole was now a small landfill. 

Placing a hand on your shoulder, you feel Jin give you a comforting squeeze. You rest your hand over his, intertwining your fingers, you sigh defeatedly, turning to bury your face in his chest. Wrapping his arms around you, he kisses the crown of your head and lays his cheek on it. The two of you bathe in the silence, all signs of forest life now muted in the wake of the destruction of their home. You doubted anyone even still lived here, the land so completely uninhabitable. 

“This place used to be so beautiful,” you muse dejectedly, laying your cheek over his heart. “So full of life…”

Jin glides his fingers through your hair, listening closely.

“As a kid, I used to think this was the secret home of a fairy kingdom. Where a kind prince ruled over his subjects with a gentle fist. Adding color, and brilliance to nature here. At least, that’s the story my mother would tell,” you regale him, hands clutching his thin shirt. 

“When she would bring my siblings and I here, and the water shimmered so beautifully, she’d say it was the fairy prince welcoming us to play in his kingdom. And when we’d visit in the evening once the sun had dipped down, balls of blinking lights dancing through the cool air, she’d say they were the fairies dancing in glee at our visit.”

You could feel tears form behind your lash line, tilting your head up as to not let them fall. You feel childish speaking of fairy tales to your fiancé, growing upset to the point you’re about to cry over it. Yet you couldn’t help yourself. This place was such a large part of your childhood, and if you were honest with yourself, it was the place you had been most anxious to visit. To see it destroyed to this degree broke your heart. 

Sensing the dive in your emotions, Jin pulls back, taking your face in his hands, eyes roaming over your face in sympathy. “Don’t cry, sweetheart. Maybe we can do something.”

You tilt your head, wondering what he could mean. Blinking up at him, wet lashes sticking together. “What do you mean?” 

Placidly smiling down at you, his thumb wipes away the stray tears beneath your eyes. “I don’t know, maybe we could try to clean up. Try to restore it to its former glory,” he shrugs, shoving his hands in his pockets, eyes sweeping the clearing. 

You stupidly blink at him, mouth slightly ajar. Your heart begins to swell with so much affection that it feels as if it could pop out of your chest. The waterworks come back full force, lips trembling with emotion. 

Noticing your silence he glances back to you, eyes widening with panic, hands hovering in front of him in uncertainty. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong? Was it something I said?” 

Shaking your head, you throw your arms around him. Burrowing your face into his neck, standing on your tiptoes. “I love you so much,” you tearfully declare. 

He returns your hold, lifting you up, an affectionate smile pulling at his plump lips. “What’s all this for, you big softie?” he teasingly murmurs.

“I just… I just feel so lucky to be with you.” You can’t help the emotions pouring out of you, unable to keep them inside when it comes to him. You weren’t sure what you had done in this life to deserve him, but you swore to whatever entity was out there that you would prove yourself worthy of him. For all the days you were gifted with being by his side, you would be the best partner possible. 

“Well you are pretty blessed to look upon this handsome face every day.” 

You smack his arm, body shaking with restrained laughter. “You’re incorrigible!” you exclaim, barely containing the joy glowing on your face. 

Windshield wiper screeches fill the air, as he backs away from you rubbing at the spot you’d hit. His laugh was something uniquely him that always called attention. No matter whether you found it odd, or not, it always made you join him. It was a trait you found completely endearing.

Your laughs begin to quiet, a few residual chuckles escaping you. You look at each other, affection and mirth mirroring one another. 

“Did you really mean it?”

He hums questioningly, raising his brows.

“About trying to clean up here?” 

“Of course, I do,” he nods. “We’ve still got a few more days left here. We can go buy industrial trash bags, maybe some equipment to help us pick up the garbage, and we’ll definitely need some protection,” he continues to list off.

A smile growing on your own lips, you hug his arm, squirming against him excitedly. “Okay! Let’s do it!”

“Yeah?” he questions, amused at your behavior. You nod enthusiastically and chuckle, beginning to walk off. “Well, what are we waiting for? No time like the present right?”

You agree, a pep to your step excitedly discussing the possibility of hopefully saving a part of your childhood.

“It’s so hot!” you whine, stretching your aching back as you wipe the sweat from your forehead. You roll your neck, trying to loosen your tense muscles from being hunched over with the trash pick-up stick. 

Since your first visit to the Fae Kingdom, which you had taken to calling it affectionately, you had spent the last few days clearing the area around the body of sludge. It was hard labor and the two of you always arrived home sorely exhausted, passing out as soon as your bodies hit the bed. On a couple of occasions, your siblings joined you carrying some of the workload. 

Thanks to their help and the determination to see things through, you were actually able to now see the floor of the hidden glade. There wasn’t much trash left, so you were currently taking care of what was left while Jin was using a pool skimmer to collect the junk in the lake. 

It was a particularly sunny, and humid day. The air felt incredibly thick with moisture, making it a bit harder to breathe. Not to mention how you were sweating buckets. You had both shed some layers, hating how uncomfortable it felt to have the fabric sticking to your skin. 

After complaining about the heat, you toss your stick on the ground, making your way over to a small blanket you laid out to take breaks. Lowering onto your knees, you grab a bottle of water and take a generous gulp. The cool liquid soothes your rising body temperature. Capping the bottle, you roll it on your forehead, trying to cool yourself down. 

Rolling back on your knees, you land with a soft thud on your behind, enjoying the shade the tall trees provided. Taking a deep breath, you release it slowly before choking on it. Coughing violently, as your eyes almost bug out of your head. 

Standing about ten feet in front of you, by the edge of the water was a broad shouldered god. Muscles flexing beneath lightly sun kissed skin, beads of sweat rolling down his back, burly arms bulging with each bend as he lifts the skimmer out of the water. 

How in the hell was this herculean man real? 

You sigh in awe, before looking up, hands clasped together as you whisper a thank you up above. 

“What are you doing?”

You jump as his voice breaks the quiet atmosphere. Your eyes hastily fall on him as you reply in a high pitch, “Nothing!” Your cheeks begin to warm, staining with embarrassment.

His brows pinch, not fully believing you. Shaking his head, he turns to shake the skimmer into a large black bag. Setting it to the side, he swipes sweat off his brow. He turns and makes his way to you, pulling the work gloves off his large hands, stuffing them in the back pocket of his dark jeans. Coming to a stop at the edge of the blanket, he crouches down reaching his hand out for a drink. 

Leaning back, you pull a cool bottle out of the cooler and hand it to him. You watch as he takes a large swig, before swiftly emptying the rest over his head. Brushing his hair back, his dark eyes rest on you. One corner of his plush lips pulls up at the unhidden admiration on your face. 

“Come here.” He crooks a finger, signalling you closer. 

You blink, lifting up and shuffling on your knees over to him. His hand locks behind your neck pulling you in to steal a kiss, lips brushing yours affectionately. One of your hands finds purchase on a burly shoulder to steady yourself. He pulls back, placing a succession of quick pecks over your pouting lips, pulling giggles out of you.

“I’m sorry. I suddenly realized I hadn't kissed the most beautiful woman today. It had to be quickly amended.”

A large grin breaks over your face at his cheesy words. 

“You’re such a charmer, Mr. Kim.”

His eyes flash, tongue swiping over his thick lower lip. “Am I? Does that mean I can charm you out of these?” he teases, fingers tugging at your shorts. 

You swallow hard, painfully aware of the  warm thrum between your thighs. Biting your lip, a protest on the tip of your tongue threatens to expose the unabashed yearning of your heat.

Before you can utter a word, his lips are yours again. The hand behind your neck pulls you closer as he leans over you. A hand on your waist guides you to lie on the blanketed ground, his knee nudging your legs apart to settle between them comfortably. He kisses you languishly, hand releasing your soft strands and sliding to your cheek as he rests his weight on the arm placed by your head. Hips grinding in lazy circles against your mound, drawing a quiet moan. 

Suffice to say all thoughts of the heat are replaced by a different kind of heat as your hands slide up the plane of muscles you had been admiring not long ago. You feel every flex of his back as his hips continue their languorous movements. You bend your knees, widening the space for him invitingly. 

It’s as his hand descends to take hold of your left breast that you hear something in the distance. You ignore it thinking maybe it was a rustling branch or bush. Giving your breast a squeeze, Jin spreads even more heat to your core, and just as you’re about to groan your breath hitches as the sounds are closer this time. 

“Jin! Sis! Are you guys here?”

Your eyes bug open, staring into Jin's equally stunned gaze before you both spring apart. A tangle of limbs, wrestling to separate from each other. It’s when you’re finally sitting in your own personal spaces that you notice a hitch in your situation. Jin’s erection was pitching a lovely tent in his semi loose jeans. His hands covered it, a pained look on his face as he cursed. Hearing the crunch of leaves close by springs you into action just as your siblings walk out of the tree line. 

“Oh there you guys are,” the oldest declares, pointing you out to the others.

You smile over at them innocently from your position between Jin's legs, back resting against his naked chest, his arms resting around your waist. You both wave at them, thanking powers at be for the humidity today helping to disguise your flushed skin. 

“Oh, hey! We didn’t know you guys were coming by today.” Jin greets nonchalantly, raising an arm to wave at them.

“Well,” the youngest speaks up this time, hand rubbing the back of their neck, ”we weren’t going to but when we realized what the weather was like out, we couldn’t let you guys deal with it all alone.”

You can’t help but smile at them in appreciation. “Thank you guys, you really didn’t have to.”

“This is our waterhole, we have to help too,” your middle sibling declares, pounding a fist into their chest dramatically. 

You roll your eyes as they grin at you.

“Well let’s get to it, fam!” cheers the youngest.

“We’ll join you in a moment, just taking a short break,” you inform them.

“No worries, take your time. This heat is no joke.” They wave you off as they set up their equipment and bags.

You realise a sigh, reiterating your thanks as they go about cleaning. You watch them a moment before twisting your head to the side. “You wanna get a hold on yourself now?” you hiss over your shoulder. Jin’s prominent erection poking at your back, showing no signs of deflating any time soon. 

He wraps his arms around you pulling closer. “I can’t help it, not when that perfect ass keeps pushing back on me.” he whispers into your ear. “And did you know your shoulders turn me on too? They’re so perfect for grabbing onto when I fuck into you from be-”

A yelp of pain gets your sibling’s attention, heads swiveling to look over you guys. Jin folded over, hand clutching at his right side where you’d elbowed him. 

“He’s got a stitch in his side from cleaning out the lake. Sorry to scare you guys,” you give as an explanation, waving off their concerned gazes. Feeling bad, your oldest sibling decides to take over lake duty, telling you guys to take your time resting. 

You nod gratefully, before turning your attention back to the frustratingly handsome man behind you. “Get a hold of yourself! Or you won’t be touching me for the next week!”

He looks at you in indignation, sputtering to find a response. “You can’t do that! We leave in a few days! We can finally go back to loud unfiltered sex!” 

You twist around and smack a hand over his mouth. “I’m not kidding! Get it together, my siblings are here,” your eyes blazing with intent. 

He removes your hand as he clears his throat. A playful glint in his eyes before he opens his obnoxious mouth. “You know you’re hot when you’re angry?” he manages before breaking out into his signature high pitched laugh. 

Face flushing in annoyance, you smack his bare arm. “Fine! Good luck hiding it on your own!” you fume, leaning forward to push yourself up. 

You don’t get far, as he cages you quickly with his arms, pulling you back against him, a panicked no permeating the humid air. You huff, as you feel the wind almost knock out of you at the force he uses to pull you back into place. 

“Well are you gonna behave?” an unsaid ultimatum weaved into the question.

“Ah! It’s not my fault you’re so attractive! How can you blame me like this!” he continues to whine, like a petulant child not allowed to play with their favorite toy. 

The pair of you continue to bicker, as your siblings slave away in restoring the clearing. It’s not long before they grow hot, exhausted by the muggy air engulfing them. Their patience and kindness waning, complaints for you both to hurry and join them—which you promptly do, with bottles of water in hand to help them cool down. Your small group makes quick work of the left over trash, as Jin takes care of what’s left in the lake. 

The sun was just beginning it’s descent, stars just barely dotting across the darkening sky, when your small rag tag group finally finished; spent bodies leaning on each other, as weary eyes surveyed your hard work. It wasn’t what it once was, but it looked damn well on its way there and you couldn’t help the happy tears that brimmed your waterline. The arm around your shoulder gives you a quick squeeze, Jin's voice filling the air thanking everyone for their hard work.

The evening chill that cools your sweat soaked layers has the small group shivering. Giving the place one last sweep, you all agree to high tail it back for much needed showers and rest. 

Tomorrow would be your last full day there and you wanted to make sure of one last thing. You would be trying to find a way to purify the lake water. You had been doing research and had read about techniques aiming to bring a lake back to or closer to man-made undisturbed conditions. You had found a lake restoration company not far outside of the town. Jin had already agreed to accompany you, willing to help in any way possible as you brought it up before going to bed that night. You had happily accepted, beholden by the revival of the Fae Kingdom.

The night was comfortably warm, filled with happy chatter in the beautiful glade. Fairy lights lit the area in a soft glow as many visitors sat around the lake, eating meals they had just pulled off grills or brought with them from home. Small clusters of families or couples relaxed after a day of fun and thrills. 

Somewhere someone had brought a speaker, a soft pop melody permeating the air, as you quietly sing along to it, swaying in your fiance’s arms, his own angelic voice serenading you. Your family surrounded you, their loud boisterous laughs bringing you joy and comfort. 

It had been a year since your visit, a year of the lake restoration working its magic. A year of love and care for the watering hole, which was almost a mirror of its former glory. Beautiful shades of green once more filling in patches of the ground, all the colors of the rainbow blooming, giving the space vibrance and life. There were signs of life all around you as creatures began to inhabit the area once more. 

But the most amazing part is being able to witness the breathtaking globes of light that dance before your eyes. Soft, blinking lights that waltz around, unbothered by the visitors. The fairies had returned, they had come back home to their kingdom. 

“They’re happy.”

“Huh,” you ask dumbly, breaking out of your reverie.

“The fairies, they’re happy to see you,” he voices.

A tender smile rests on his lips when you turn to him. He remembered. The childish story you had told him. And it’s in that moment, with blinking lights reflecting around him that you come to a realization. 

“You’re the fairy prince. Well, you’re my real fairy prince,” you admit quietly.

He looks down at you, eyes searching yours before placing a kiss on the tip of your nose and pulling your back flush against him.

“I guess that makes you the future princess of the Fae Kingdom.”

You cling to his arms happily, taking in the gorgeous scenery before you. 

“Besides, it only makes sense that someone as good looking as me is royalty.”

“And there goes the moment,” you grumble as you leave the safe space of his arms to join your family in their merriment. 

“Hey! You know it’s true!” he exclaims, chasing after you, accompanied by a squeaking laugh.

[heliads]

If I Can’t Have You

Based on this request: “one shot of Wanda and the reader are married and Agatha likes the reader and creates problem in their relationship. one day the reader and Wanda were fighting, the reader leaves to find Agatha who controls the reader to fall in love with her. Wanda finds the reader and removes the mind control.”

masterlist

Agnes walks down the sun-bleached sidewalk, arms full of a stack of hardbacks that most certainly were not transformed spellbooks. Of course they weren’t- she is Agnes now, not Agatha, and even nosy neighbours would never be caught dead studying incantations. She has to keep up the illusion of innocence, and that is final.

Agnes’ cheerful grin slips when her eye catches on something in the bushes. They should be drab shades of gray (they’re still stuck in the 50s, no matter how much Agnes wishes they would just change decades already), but there’s a flash of color inside them. Agnes groans. Is Wanda’s control disintegrating so quickly? Agnes gestures towards the bush ever so slightly, and the color fades back to black and white in a second, with only a flash of purple dancing around Agnes’ fingertips to show that anything had changed.

However, in the split second that Agnes’ focus had been diverted away, her tall stack of books had begun to slide out of her arms. Agnes reaches out to steady the pile once more, but it’s too late- the books cascade to the ground, spilling out over the pale concrete. Agnes kneels, ignoring the spike of heat slicing up her knees from the sunburned sidewalk, and begins to gather up the books. To her surprise, a second figure leans down beside her, picking up the scattered hardbacks as well.

When Agnes looks up, her breath catches slightly in her throat. There’s someone standing over them, sun shining out in a halo over their head. A smile flashes across their face as they hold out the remaining books. “I’m Y/N. I don’t think we’ve been able to meet before.” Agnes shakes her head. “No, I don’t think so. I would have remembered you, hon. The name’s Agnes.” Y/N grins, teeth flashing in the sun. “It’s nice to meet you, Agnes. I think we’re neighbours- I live down the block with my wife, Wanda. Great to make some new friends.”

Agnes clears her throat. “Well, thank you for your help.” Y/N tilts their head in acknowledgement. “Well, I figured I might as well do something quickly. Wanda’s right down the block, and I don’t think you would have wanted her to see you summon up some purple sparks to retrieve the books.” Agnes stares. “You-” Y/N waves a hand in dismissal. “Don’t worry about it. I’m not going to say anything. I saw you fix that hedge, so clearly you’re here to help. If there’s one thing I can do, it’s keep a secret for a friend. See you around, Agnes.”

With that, Y/N heads back down the sidewalk, footsteps echoing down the concrete path. Agnes is left staring. Y/N knew about the magic and Y/N is married to Wanda, yet they aren’t going to say anything? As Agnes walks back to her house, she realizes there’s a new feeling of rage bubbling up in her stomach against the red-haired witch. It’s not just envy of Wanda’s chaos magic. No, this is something different. It takes Agatha a while to realize what it is, and then it occurs to her. She’s jealous that Wanda has Y/N in her life every day.

Agatha can’t take this feeling of envy for much longer. She begins small spells targeting Wanda and Y/N’s marriage, ones that will sow seeds of discontent that will draw Y/N to Agatha instead. At first, they’re barely noticeable- traffic is bad so Y/N arrives home later and later each day, Wanda keeps forgetting to keep a space out for Y/N at the dinner table. Then, it’s time for Agatha’s magnum opus- one thunderous rain storm that forces Y/N to dash into Agatha’s house to escape the torrential showers.

Y/N only has to knock a couple of times before Agatha opens her door, quickly ushering the drenched neighbour into her house. Y/N apologizes profusely, but Agatha just shakes her head. “It’s fine, trust me. I’d rather you stay in here for a while and dry up than have to run home in this sort of weather.” She hands Y/N a blanket, which they accept gratefully, wrapping around their shoulders.

Y/N gets distracted by a bookcase in the corner of the room, a deep mahogany number with intricate carvings detailing the sides. “You have a good collection of books here. Rivals even my own.” A faint smile slips across their face as they examine the titles, a warmth in their eyes as if greeting dozens of old friends. At last, Y/N’s finger stops over one book in particular, and they carefully draw it out from amongst the others.

Agatha leans over to Y/N, curious. “Which book is that?” Y/N delicately opens the cover, poring over the detailed illustrations and long swoops of text. “Greek mythology. I’ve always been a fan.” Y/N flips through the pages, stopping before one particularly beautiful depiction of a myth. In the drawing, a goddess lies desolate over the body of a lover, roses beginning to form where blood pools from their body.

“Aphrodite and Adonis. That’s a classic. The goddess of love and the queen of the underworld both fell in love with this one mortal hero, Adonis, and they fought over him for a long time.” Agatha furrows her brow. “What happened?” Y/N shakes their head sadly. “Adonis ended up dead, killed by a boar. The stories differ over the killing- some versions say it was Ares, Aphrodite’s husband, or it could have been Persephone herself, jealous that Adonis was falling in love with her rival. Either way, he ended up dead and they both ended up unhappy.”

Y/N sighs. “There are a lot of myths like that, actually. Two gods fall for one lover and in the resulting fight, the world seems to be torn apart. Something similar happened with Hercules and the river god Achelous over Deianeira, actually. Every time, two fall in love with one, and every time, violence always follows. If one god couldn’t have their lover, then nobody could. It never made sense to me. Why tear apart the world over love? Besides, it always hurt the lover, who never had any choice in the matter. A waste, honestly.”

Y/N closes the book and glances outside the window. “Look, it stopped raining. I will stop intruding on your hospitality with my sad Greek myths and leave you to your afternoon.” Agatha starts to raise her voice to protest, to say that Y/N could never be a waste of time, but Y/N is already donning her coat and slipping out the door with a raised hand and a final declaration of gratitude.

Wanda waits for Y/N when they get home. She stands in the middle of the living room, just waiting for when her spouse walks through the door. Y/N has barely closed the door behind them when they see their wife, and their smile fades. “What’s wrong, Wanda? You look upset.” Wanda’s gaze remains steady, bordering on harsh. “I wonder why that would be. I wonder why my spouse would show up late again, especially when I asked them to be here early for dinner.”

Y/N gestures loosely at the door behind them. “I couldn’t go anywhere! It was raining so hard I could barely see two feet in front of me. Here, you can see my jacket, my hair, they’re wet-” Y/N’s voice breaks off as they reach for their coat and find it perfectly dry. They rush to the window, but there is no sign of rain. No puddles, no clouds, nothing. Y/N turns back to Wanda, a look of bewilderment fogging up their eyes.

“I have no idea what happened. I swear, it was raining, but now there’s nothing there at all.” Wanda raises an eyebrow. “Yes, that’s very convincing, isn’t it? A magically disappearing rainstorm apparent only to you.” Y/N tilts their head, irritation beginning to show. “Don’t use that tone. I would never lie to you. This is just strange. Something is happening and I can’t understand it.” They throw their arms up in frustration, but just as they raise their hands, Wanda flinches. It’s a small movement, barely there at all, but it’s enough for Y/N to notice. Instantly, all annoyance fades from their face, replaced by swift betrayal.

“You flinched- you thought I would-” Y/N’s voice is quiet, barely there at all. Wanda shakes her head fervently. “I didn’t mean that. It was an accident.” Y/N looks back at their wife, expression bleak. “It wasn’t an accident, though. You thought I would hit you? You truly think so little of me?” Y/N turns around, grabbing their coat from the door once more. “I think I should go. I think that would be best for both of us.”

Wanda reaches out to stop Y/N from leaving, but her spouse has already disappeared through the front door. A quiet gasp comes from the stairs behind Wanda, and she turns to see Billy and Tommy clustered together on the stairs, twin looks of horror on their faces. Billy is the first to speak. “Are they leaving us?” Wanda rushes over to them, hurrying in her apologies. “Of course not. Everyone has disagreements, you know? It’s impossible to be perfectly happy forever. Y/N is going to come back very soon, and we’re going to talk things out again. That’s what makes us love each other, you know. We always come back to each other in the end.”

Wanda’s voice is light and untroubled, but her children still don’t look entirely convinced. In fact, Wanda doesn’t even look convinced herself. After Billy and Tommy retreat back upstairs to their rooms, Wanda walks slowly to the kitchen and sits down at the table, placing her head in her hands. What has she done? What if Y/N really doesn’t come back?

Y/N regrets storming out of the house as soon as the front door closes behind them. They want nothing more than to go back inside and apologize, but they’ve always had too much pride to swallow. So, they walk out of their house, heading out into the street. Maybe they’ll go into town for a while, shoot the breeze and cool down, and then come back home and make things right. Y/N has never been able to stay away from Wanda for too long, especially during an argument. That’s what made them work so well together- they always returned to each other.

However, Y/N hasn’t gone more than a couple of feet down the road when someone walks up to them. Y/N glances over, recognizing Agnes. “Look, I’m sorry but I don’t really want to talk right now. I’ve already messed things up with Wanda, I think it’s best that I stay by myself for a while.” Agatha’s smile doesn’t falter for a second. “Of course you want to come with me, hon. You love me.” 

Y/N frowns, but with a wave of Agatha’s hand a violet streak flashes across Y/N’s eyes and a relaxed smile spreads across their face. “I do love you.” Agatha holds out her hand, and Y/N takes it without a second’s hesitation. Agatha glances over at Y/N, considering them. “Actually, I think we need one more spell. I can’t have Wanda recognizing you, after all.” Agatha murmurs a spell under her breath, and Y/N’s features ripple and change into an entirely different face. Even if Wanda happened to see Y/N walking with Agatha, she would have no idea who they were.

Wanda is growing more uneasy as the hours pass by. Y/N should have returned by now, they should have made up by now. The fact that they aren’t here tells Wanda that something is wrong. Wanda knows it must be the aftereffects of the argument, but yet there’s something in the back of her head telling Wanda that there might be some foul play. After a while, Tommy slips into the room, pausing as he walks by Wanda.

“Are you still looking for Y/N?” Wanda nods, then frowns at Tommy’s tone. “What do you mean, still? Do you know where she is?” Tommy shakes his head, but he hesitates slightly. Wanda jumps on this uncertainty like a lion. “Tommy, love, I need you to tell me where Y/N is. We both know something isn’t right, don’t we? This is really important.”

Tommy still deliberates, but after frantic glances from Wanda he finally relents. “I was running past Agnes’ house and I saw someone in there. I had never seen them before, and Billy says that nobody new has come into town. It didn’t look like Y/N, but it was still strange.” Wanda swoops forward, pressing a kiss to Tommy’s forehead. “Thank you so much for telling me. I’ll go look into that right away. Stay here with Billy, alright? I’ll be back in a second.”

The methodical rhythm of Wanda’s boots echoes down the street as she heads purposefully to Agnes’ house. She knocks a couple of times before the door opens, and Wanda is face to face with an utterly unfamiliar person. Wanda blinks in confusion. “Hi, I’m Wanda. I was looking for someone.” The stranger in Agnes’ house smiles. “Well, come on inside. Maybe you’ll find them here.”

Wanda nods, following the stranger inside. “What’s your name, by the way?” Wanda asks, and the stranger just looks at her. “I wasn’t given a name.” There’s a moment of tension, like the stranger is almost begging Wanda to realize something, but then their face smooths over and everything returns to normal. Wanda is shown to a seat in the living room, and she stares around Agnes’ house. She reaches out with her mind, searching for Y/N, but nothing happens.

The stranger bustles back into the room. “Agnes is out, but she’ll be back in a little bit. Is there anything I can do for you right now?” Wanda shakes her head, standing up. “Actually, I don’t think so. I’m sorry to waste your time.” Wanda starts to head to the door, but the stranger quickly walks in front of her, blocking her path. “Are you sure? I thought you were looking for someone.” The stranger is staring at them with a look so full of pain and hope that Wanda almost has to look away. What would the stranger want Wanda to know? What would they know, except-

Then Wanda realizes, and she reaches out a tentative hand to the stranger’s temples. Wanda concentrates for a second, searching, and then she feels the spell masking the stranger’s thoughts and pulls it away like she’s removing a blindfold. Instantly, the stranger straightens up, and they shudder for a second as their face changes into a more familiar countenance. Wanda cries out in relief, wrapping her arms around Y/N, for of course it is they who stand before her. 

“I thought you were missing- I thought you hated me-” Y/N holds tight to Wanda. “No. No, I could never. I tried to go back, but then the spell hit and I couldn’t do anything.” Y/N leans back, cupping Wanda’s face gently in her palm. “I’m so glad you found me. I was so scared that you wouldn’t know it was me.” Wanda smiles bittersweetly. “I will always come back to you. Every single time.”

Wanda and Y/N leave Agatha’s house, heading quickly back to their own home, back to their twin boys who look up excitedly when they see Y/N return. Wanda and Y/N do not notice Agatha, who just arrives at her house in time to see the married couple disappear back through their own front door. Agatha glares, storming into her house to see the hated truth- Y/N is indeed gone, the spell broken. In a moment of utter rage, Agatha lets her power flow through her, murky indigo smoke pouring over the room as walls crack and glasses break.

When Agatha is at last able to control herself, she stands panting in the middle of the room. Her eyes catch on a book that had been yanked from its shelf, a book that now lies open on the ground. Agatha’s eyes widen as she takes in that familiar drawing of the goddess and the lover, from the story Y/N had been talking about earlier. Aphrodite and Adonis, forced to repeat their pain once more.

But Agatha understands it now, understands it as Y/N had never been able to fully comprehend. Why shouldn’t the gods tear apart the world? This feeling in Agatha’s chest, this empty broken rage, will never be able to subside. Y/N loves Wanda, and Wanda loves Y/N. There is no room for Agatha in that story. 

A twisted, fractured smile begins to wend its way across Agatha’s lips. Before, she had been hesitant about messing too much with Wanda’s reality, but now, all rules are gone with Y/N. If Agatha can’t have Y/N, no one else will. Wanda doesn’t stand a chance.

wanda maximoff tag list: @mycosmicparadise​ @mionemymind​ @xxxtwilightaxelxxx​    

[cosmicjoke]

Okay, so here we go!  Chapter 1 of “No Regrets”!  

There’s a few things I want to point out about this chapter, because both visually and textually, we get a lot of information about the Underground and Levi, and his relationship with Isabel and Furlan.  So I’ll just go through it.

The first thing that really caught my attention for this chapter was the opening page, which is a retrospective shot of Levi after he’s joined the SC, thinking about how he can’t ever know what the results of his choices are going to be.  He says here “I trusted in my own strength... I trusted in the decisions of comrades who had earned my faith...”  And this quote from Levi is really important in later understanding why he makes the choice he does, at the end.  He says he trusted in the decisions of comrades who had earned his faith, and that tells us that Levi believes in Furlan and Isabel, that he believes in their strength and their capability, that he believes in them enough to let them choose for themselves and trust in their judgement.  We’ll obviously delve more into this as it becomes more relevant to the story.  But moving on...

The next thing to catch my attention is the panels of the Underground we see.  These are probably the best shots of this place we get in the whole series, as it really depicts a place that is totally run down and dilapidated, with buildings falling apart and crumbling in disrepair, filth ridden streets with literal sewage water coming out of drain pipes, and a actual cave cover overhead, complete with stalactites, blocking out all sunlight except for few and far between pockets which break through holes in the rock ceiling.  The most telling panels though are the ones which depict the violence and poverty of the place.  We see a panel of a homeless man passed out on the street, painfully thin looking, and under him, two men in a fight, one beating the other violently.  And the next panel shows us a little girl, sitting barefoot on the ground between two men who have just blown each other’s brains out with guns.  Truly, this is a violent, dark, poverty-stricken place that breeds crime and depravation.  The pages before this say that BECAUSE of the splendor of the Capital city above the Underground, this place exists, and that’s accurate.  Because of the excesses and decadence of the rich and well off above these people rejected by society, that means fewer resources for the less fortunate.  It’s truly tragic.  

Alright, now I just want to move on to some small, but telling moments here while Levi and the others are being chased by Erwin and his crew.  

When Isabel is bragging about how the MP’s never learn, referring to how they’ll never be able to catch their gang, she asks Levi if what she said was cool.  Levi tells her “Don’t be stupid.”  This might seem like Levi just blowing her off, but the way I read it, it seems more to me like Levi is warning her not to be cocky, not to be over confident, because that’s the kind of thing that can get you killed, or caught.  Big Bro indeed!   We also see how mindful Levi is here as a leader, when he tells them they can’t afford to lead the soldiers following them straight to their hideout, and clearly they have a plan in place for just this sort of thing.

More importantly, Levi is fast to realize these aren’t ordinary soldiers after them, which shows his great instincts, but what’s really interesting is his internal thoughts here.  His logic is telling him regular MP’s wouldn’t work this hard to catch them, and that their skill with the ODM means they must be SC.  But Levi doesn’t really believe it which, given what we later find out about the deal with Lobov, and Lobov warning them of Erwin’s plans, tells us that Levi never really believed the SC would come after them.  He’s clearly surprised here.

Further, after informing Isabel and Furlan and confirming his suspicions, he tells Furlan that he’s got no intention of getting mixed up with “these guys”.  This tells us Levi never wanted to go through with Furlan’s plans, never wanted to join the SC, never wanted anything to do with any of it.  There’s further evidenced in this very chapter, which I’ll get to in a moment.  But it tells us a lot about the dubious feelings Levi had from the start, and how he probably would have simply been happiest to stay in the Underground with his friends, even though it was a hard life.  

Alright, so, this next part is a big deal, and it’s an overlooked detail which speaks volumes about the kind of person Levi is.  I didn’t even notice this the first time I read it, so I want to talk about it.  Levi separates from Isabel and Furlan, and takes Erwin and Mike on a wild chase through the back alley’s and narrow passages of the slums.  He really tries to give them the run around here, until he flips over a door, into another area.  What’s really important here is Levi’s dialog.  He says first “... Lost ‘em, huh?”  And then he says, “That got a little crazy...  I hope... none of them crashed.”  This is kind of amazing.  Levi is showing actual concern for the two soldiers who’d just attempted to catch him and his friends, who were doggedly pursuing them with obviously bad intentions of some kind.  And Levi, after having to resort to some serious ODM skills to shake them, says he hopes that none of them crashed.  He doesn’t want Erwin or Mike to get hurt, he just wants to get away from them.  Considering he doesn’t know either of them at this point, they’re just nameless, faceless military dogs trying to mess things up for him, that shows remarkable character.  

Of course, things go downhill from there, when Mike crashes through the door and tackles him.  All bets are off then, because Levi’s life is now in danger, and when that happens, he’ll resort to physical force.  Still, he only throws Mike off of him and once again attempts to get away, only for it to be Erwin who swoops down and cuts Levi’s cables.  This was actually really dangerous.  Given Levi’s momentum and position, he crashes hard into a nearby wall before falling to the ground.  So we already see some of that ruthlessness from Erwin here.  Of course, that spurs Levi into violence himself.  I have no doubt that when Levi lunges for Erwin and knocks his blade away, bringing his knife to his neck, he truly intended to kill him in that moment.  Levi’s compassion for these soldiers can only go so far, considering the desperation of his own circumstances.  If Mike hadn’t been there to stop it, I think Levi probably would have ripped Erwin’s jugular right out, and that would have been that, lol.  And then, it’s important to note too WHY Levi stops.  Not because Mike was able to physically restrain him, but because he tells Levi to look around himself, directing his attention to the fact that Furlan and Isabel have been caught.  That immediately stays Levi’s hand, and once again, we’re shown how Levi puts the wellbeing of his friends above himself.  He could have ditched Furlan and Isabel right then and there and escaped on his own.  Instead, he allows himself to be restrained and cuffed.  He refuses to abandon them.

Now the next scene is hugely important to a lot of stuff.

Erwin’s got Levi and his friends down on their knees, in the sewage, questioning them about their ODM skills, and the three of them stay silent, obviously defiant.  We really get a good look at Erwin’s abilities as a manipulator here.

He’s pulling the whole good cop/bad cop routine on Levi, when he tells him “I’d like to avoid any rough treatment if I can” before looking to Mike in a clear signal for Mike to pretty damn violently tear Levi’s head back by his hair before smashing his face into the sewage on the ground.  And this really IS sewage.  It’s not mud.  If you look at the panels, we see this brown muck coming out of drain pips attached to the surrounding buildings.  This water is probably, literally, dirty with feces, and Erwin has Mike put Levi’s face in this and hold it there.  Now let’s remember something important about Levi.  He’s a clean freak.  He obviously cares deeply about keeping both himself and his environment clean.  Erwin couldn’t know this about him at the time, but nobody of course would be happy about having their face shoved into literal shit.  But for Levi, I can only imagine this had to be tantamount to a kind of torture.  Erwin keeps questioning him, looking down at him without any kind of emotion, and Levi remains stubbornly silent, despite how awful this must truly be for him.  We get a close up of Levi’s eye in one of the panels, paralleled with Erwin’s own, and Levi’s expression really strikes me as one of awful humiliation.  He goes from looking up at Erwin in rage, to looking away, staring straight ahead, while Erwin keeps looking down at him.

Still, Levi says nothing, and it’s Isabel who finally cracks, telling Erwin that they didn’t learn to use ODM from anyone, with Furlan further explaining that they taught themselves as a means of survival.  He remarks that “anyone who doesn’t know what sewage tastes like couldn’t understand!”.  Clearly, both of them are really upset to see this being done to Levi, and I have to imagine it’s at least in part because they know how awful an experience this has to be for him, given that they know how much he desires to stay clean.  Their shocked expressions when Mike first pushes Levi’s face into the sewage says as much too.

But still, Levi remains silent as Erwin then demands to know Levi’s name.  What Mike does to Levi in the next panel is even worse.  He pushes his face into the sewage and holds him there until Levi literally starts to choke in it, for long enough that, when he finally does pull him up, Levi is gasping for breath.  I really don’t see people talk enough about this scene, but, well...

It’s a torture scene.  Erwin is ordering Mike to torture Levi here.  It may not be the most extreme form of torture, it isn’t the type of physical violence we typically think of when we think of torture, but that’s what it is.  It’s causing Levi both physical and mental degradation, as well as physical distress.  

Even with this though, Levi’s still silent and refuses to answer Erwin at all.  

It’s only when Erwin literally threatens the lives of Furlan and Isabel that he finally talks.  This is such an important detail.  Levi was willing to take what to him must have been truly horrific treatment, but as soon as Erwin gives the signal to the other two Scouts who have hold of his friends, we see Levi’s expression shift from defiant rage to wide eyed fear as they put their blades to Furlan’s and Isabel’s throats.  

Finally Levi talks, calling Erwin a “bastard”, to which Erwin simply asks him again what his name is, and after a slight hesitation, Levi finally gives it.  

I think this entire scene is vital in understanding WHY Levi was so violently pissed at Erwin, to the point of wanting to kill him.

I think it’s a combination of both the humiliation and torture he puts Levi through here, and, worse still, the fact that he threatens Isabel and Furlan’s lives.  Levi already feels looked down upon by Erwin here, he already feels humiliated and embarrassed and as though he’s being treated like he’s worthless, because Erwin IS treating him like that here.  All while Erwin stands there, expressionless, making statements like he doesn’t want to have to use any rough treatment, etc... while at the same time ordering Mike to do just that.  Already, Erwin is sending Levi the message that he’s a liar and a manipulator who thinks nothing of putting another human being’s face in shit.  And then, to top that off, he shows Levi that he’s willing to hurt, maybe even kill, his two friends to get what he wants.

Is it any wonder Levi hated Erwin as much as he did at the beginning?  After a lifetime in the Underground where, from the time of his birth, he had to deal with him and those he cares about being treated like worthless trash.  It would be a miracle if Levi DIDN’T want to kill Erwin at this point.  To have to then submit to him willingly, after all of that, must have been beyond humiliating for him.

Erwin continues to be manipulative here too, when after Levi gives his name, Erwin’s attitude suddenly shifts, and he smiles at Levi and gets down on one knee with him, in the filth, his entire demeanor seeming to shift into an abruptly friendly one as he offers his deal to Levi.  Again, that whole good cop/bad cop thing.  At the same time, he continues to threaten Levi by telling him if he refuses his offer, he’ll hand them all over to the MP’s and that, given their crimes, they shouldn’t expect to be treated with any kind of decency.  What’s kind of funny about this statement from Erwin is that up until now, Erwin and Mike have done anything but treat Levi decently. 

Okay, one more important point to make about this chapter, and it goes back to what I said earlier about Levi not wanting anything to do with the SC, and how that tells us Levi really didn’t want to go through with Furlan’s plans.

After Erwin makes his offer, we see Levi look over at Furlan, who’s giving him an intent look, and in the next panel, we see an almost surprised, or astonished look on Levi’s face, like he can’t believe Furlan is asking him to do this, before he grits his teeth in obvious frustration, and then accepts Erwin’s offer to join the SC.  What this tells us is that Levi only takes Erwin’s offer because Furlan wanted him to.  Because this was all part of Furlan’s plan, to go through with Lobov’s commission, to get caught by the SC, etc...  It’s clear Levi never wanted this, and he’s upset at having to do it.  But the fact he agrees after looking over at Furlan and seeing him implore Levi with his eyes tells us, once again, that Levi is willing to sacrifice his own desires for the desires of others.  That being his two friends.

For them, he’ll join the Survey Corps, even as every one of his instincts is probably screaming at him that this is a bad idea.

Anyway, those are my thoughts for the first chapter of “No Regrets”.  There’s a lot more to unpack in this manga than I think people realize.  I hope whoever took the time to read my long ass post found it at least a little worth while.  I’ll be moving on to chapter two next!

[contemplativepancakes]

killing me softly with his song

3k post-mountain mutual pining fix it. read on ao3 here!

Geralt isn’t supposed to feel things. At least, that’s what Vesemir had purported after he had finished going through the mutations. Had sat him down and had a whole conversation about it, in fact, but at the moment, Geralt is feeling rather lied to. He’s felt things before, of course he has, he knows that being a Witcher doesn’t truly mean his emotions are gone. Muted, would be a more accurate word. 

But now… 

It all feels so overwhelming. He can’t seem to escape the swirling unsettledness deep in his gut, the despair that threatens to crash over his head every time he sees something that reminds him of Jaskier, twisting the knife even more in his gut. Back on the mountain, Geralt had regretted his words almost as soon as they had left his mouth, but they had tumbled out of him, and he was powerless to stop it. 

Why is it whenever I find myself in a pile of shit these days it’s always you shovelling it? If life was to give me one blessing, it’d be to take you off my hands!

Jaskier had tried to protest, but Geralt didn’t want to hear it in the heat of the moment, he was more interested in lashing out at anyone who would dare to contest his low opinion of himself. Sure, he might kill monsters, but does that really outweigh everything else? 

He’s shit, through and through. He knows that. He’s glad Jaskier finally realized it, too. 

The only thing that Jaskier being present all those times when Geralt found himself in trouble meant was that he was always there for Geralt. And really, if Geralt thinks back, he always was. 

Geralt’s not sure what he ever did to inspire that kind of loyalty, but he knows he didn’t deserve it. The words he had spat proved that. 

Geralt shakes his head as he thinks about all the ways Jaskier has helped him over the years. Even if Jaskier was practically in the middle of sticking his cock some place it really shouldn’t be, if Geralt needed him, he was there. 

Jaskier washed monster guts out of Geralt’s hair too many times to count, and if it weren’t for Jaskier turning his reputation around, Geralt probably wouldn’t have been able to step foot in an inn any time in the past decade without being cast out. 

And despite all those things, Geralt had still yelled at him, still made one of the only unwavering constants in his life walk away and not look back. What had Jaskier ever gotten in return, anyway? Geralt knows he’s not exactly the best company. 

Geralt curses, and Roach noses at his shoulder from where she’s tethered to the tree he’s leaning against. 

Geralt strokes his fingers over the soft velvet of her nose and huffs when she snorts in his ear. 

“Yes, all right,” he grumbles under his breath, standing up and rustling through her saddlebags to find a sugar cube. 

Jaskier had always given Roach too many sugar cubes for her own good. 

Fuck.

Geralt looks at the saddlebags, fighting with himself and failing when he fishes out the blanket Jaskier always rolled up to use as a pillow. It smells of Jaskier’s scent that Geralt had liked the best, not the sour and unhappy scent he was pouring off when Geralt shouted at him to go.

Geralt unfurls it and holds it to his nose, avoiding looking at Roach. He’s sure she’s judging him.

Geralt is judging himself a little, too. What was he thinking?

He supposes Witchers are meant to walk the Path alone, so it was for the best. Inevitable. Better to get it out of the way now than later, that’s for sure. Jaskier will get married and have children and won’t want to travel with Geralt anymore, so Geralt is glad he won’t have to suffer through that. He’s not sure he could take it to have to watch a courtship of Jaskier’s that actually lasted, that didn’t end with Jaskier coming back to him.

No, Geralt has feelings, all right, and he’s never hated them more than he does right now.

Roach snorts, pawing at the ground, and Geralt reaches up to pat her shoulder. She’s getting irritated, so Geralt should pack it in for the night, but he itches to keep moving, to keep putting more distance between him and what happened. Roach huffs again, nickering a bit. “Fine,” Geralt grumbles. “We’ll stop in the next town. Happy?”

Probably not, because Roach never seems entirely happy with him these days. Well, Roach can join the club. Geralt makes a mental note to buy more sugar cubes. At least one of them should be happy.

By the time they make it to civilization, it’s much later than Geralt had anticipated. He hands Roach off to a stable girl, wagging a finger at Roach and telling her to be good. Then he talks to the innkeeper and secures a room before walking over to the bar. He desperately needs an ale. His mind has been going nonstop ever since Jaskier left, and while it probably won’t do a whole lot for him, it might slow his thoughts down enough to fall asleep. Maybe he should go to the brothel and look for a distraction. If he could find a fight, even better.  

The barmaid plunks a mug in front of him, but Geralt hardly notices after a familiar chord emanates from the corner. Geralt whips his head around to look, but it’s just someone else playing one of Jaskier’s songs. Geralt clenches his teeth. He hates this one. Jaskier had made him out to be entirely too heroic. Geralt’s never been a hero. He’s just in it for the coin.

He’d had this conversation with Jaskier until he was blue in the face, a rare amount of words for him, in his desire to get his point across, but Jaskier had refused to believe him. Just fixed Geralt with a look and said, “Hmm.”

That was Geralt’s line, dammit.

Geralt’s eyes catch on a man sitting at the bar, wearing shoes with hardly a speck of dirt on them. They look like they’d pinch his toes quite a bit, and Geralt can’t help but shake his head at the lack of practicality of it all. His gaze travels up the man, noting his opulent doublet, and Geralt quickly looks away, taking his drink to a corner table.

He thumps the mug down, and several of the other patrons shoot him concerned looks. Geralt clenches his teeth. He has only his own social skills to rely on, now. It’s not a situation he prefers, to say the least. Jaskier was always the best at making people see Geralt as better than he truly was, something they didn’t have to be frightened of, or feel the need to drive out of town.

Geralt heaves a deep sigh. He wishes Jaskier was here.

-

Jaskier has never been one to turn down an opportunity for good song writing material, but for the first time, he doesn’t want it. He’s always been told heartache makes for the best song fodder, but somewhere along the way, things have gotten muddled, and he’d be perfectly happy if his heart was never broken again.

It still seems like a nightmare that he’s going to wake up from any second; Geralt is going to look at him from where he’s dousing the fire and tell him, “Wake up, lazy bones,” and Jaskier will protest and lunge for his notes as a new song idea that doesn’t reek of melancholy overcomes him.

Jaskier has pinched himself too many times to keep holding out for that hope, though.

In line with what his teachers at Oxenfurt told him, these days, Jaskier has plenty of song ideas. The problem is none of them seem particularly noteworthy. He doesn’t want to make anyone else listen to him reminisce about better days—about the gentle curve of Geralt’s rare smile, the fondness he held for Roach, the way he looked when moonbeams caught on his hair and made him seem even more ethereal than normal.

Even when Geralt was at his most frightening-looking, covered in viscera and ichor from his latest monster kill, Jaskier never lost that sense of wonder. Geralt could probably kill Jaskier with his pinky, but he let Jaskier tag along with him anyway, for years.

Geralt might pretend to be jaded and cynical, but Jaskier knows the truth. Jaskier saw the way Geralt couldn’t resist helping others, the way he always gave a subtle wave to the children he passed in the streets who didn’t shrink away from him, and let them pet Roach until their parents noticed and ushered them away. Geralt’s mouth would settle into a hard line and his shoulders would square, but he never commented on it, so neither did Jaskier.

Jaskier strums a chord on his lute thoughtfully, but it doesn’t sound right. Nothing has sounded right for days, and Jaskier is teetering over the precipice of despair.

He needs a distraction.

He makes his way to an inn, figuring whatever he’s met with, be it adoration or angriness at someone he’s scorned, it’ll be able to settle the unease that’s lived beneath his skin since that terrible night.

He had stumbled down the mountainside, veering off trail and crashing through the scratchy underbrush in his haste to get away from Geralt. Away, before Geralt had the satisfaction to see the emotion pulling at his face, the tears pooling in his eyes. Geralt’s cruel words could only have been aimed to deliberately hurt, even after all the time they had spent together. Well, hell, because of it.

Geralt thought he brought nothing but bad luck, and looking at the shambles his life is in, he’s inclined to agree. No wonder Geralt hadn’t wanted to take him up on his offer of getting away for a while. He doesn’t know why he suggested it. Stupid, stupid, stupid. The coast? What would someone like Geralt want to go there for, anyway? It certainly wouldn’t be for the pleasure of Jaskier’s company.

Too much, too soon. Jaskier snorts at himself. It wasn’t too soon. Geralt just never wanted to hear it.

No lasting relationships, no steady job, no place to lay his head and call his own? Jaskier could be doing better, that’s for sure.

Jaskier lets out a heavy sigh as he stops with his hand on the door to the inn, distracted by a nickering from the stables. He looks over and sees a mare that looks just like Roach. Jaskier pats his pockets for his sugar cubes until he remembers flinging them all into a lake on his way down the mountain. It wasn’t his finest hour.

He walks over to the bay horse and pets her, running his fingers over her wiry fur. She snorts just like Roach would have, and Jaskier can’t help but be overcome by a wave of dejectedness. He really misses Roach; she always let him tell her about all his problems. Namely, Geralt.

Jaskier sighs. He supposes he should cut his losses and try to move on, snip Geralt neatly from his life, but they’re too bound together for any kind of removal to go smoothly.

Jaskier pets the white nose the horse has, just like Roach, and snorts at the coincidence. There’s no way Geralt made it this far south already, so it can’t actually be Roach. Jaskier has been travelling as fast as he can, because if he stops, he’ll have to think, and he certainly doesn’t want that to happen. The horse nips at his sleeve, drawing Jaskier back to the present.

This is practically the longest he’s spent away from Geralt besides during the winters, and Jaskier’s not a fan, to put it lightly. He combs his fingers through the horse’s coarse mane and adjusts the strap of his lute before he walks inside the inn.

-

Geralt sighs, drumming his fingers on the scratched tabletop before noting the stares he’s receiving and pulling his hand back on his lap. He doesn’t need to draw any unwanted attention to himself. He drains his third mug of ale for the night and is getting ready to head to his room when the inn door creaks open.

Geralt jerks his head in the direction of the noise on instinct, and his stomach drops when he recognizes the familiar face. His pulse immediately speeds, pounding in his ears until that’s all he can hear.

Geralt ducks his head, but not before he sees Jaskier returning his shocked stare. Geralt tips his mug back again, even though it’s empty, just to try and look busy. It’s been a month, so he’s sure Jaskier has already moved on, and Geralt speaking to him would just open up wounds for both of them. On a day when he felt particularly ready to lie to himself, he would say he’s mostly over his best friend getting torn from his life.

It reminds Geralt of when healers would try to stitch up his skin when just a little too much flesh was missing. Tight and pinched, and it stung something awful anytime he jostled it. That’s about how neatly having Jaskier walk away has healed, as well. Geralt is still waiting for the wound to stop itching.

Jaskier, for his part, just blinks when he sees Geralt. It’s like he’s seeing a ghost. Geralt looks like he’s been running from something, too, and for a second, Jaskier allows himself to hope. It’s quickly dashed when Geralt looks away from him like he’s been burned. Jaskier turns to settle into the corner, only to see there’s already a bard at this inn. Well. That’s peachy. The other bard stares wide eyed, his gaze flitting back and forth from Jaskier to Geralt, before a look of understanding dawns across his face and he hastily gets up.

Jaskier raises his eyebrows. He wasn’t aware their reputation had spread quite this far. Nevertheless, he takes the man’s spot, adjusting the strings of his lute just a bit, stalling.

Geralt is still at his table.

Jaskier clears his throat and strums his lute.

The fairer sex, they often call it…

He stares at the side of Geralt’s face, but Geralt doesn’t look back at him. Jaskier notices the way his shoulders tense up, though, and he’s not sure what to make of it.

I'm weak my love, and I am wanting

If this is the path I must trudge

I welcome my sentence

Give to you my penance

Garrotter, jury and judge

At that, Geralt turns his head to look straight at Jaskier, and Jaskier tries to resist the shiver that creeps down his spine. When Jaskier finishes the song, he finds Geralt still staring at him. He slings his lute over his shoulder and draws upon his reserves of bravery. He finds they’re about empty, but he walks over to Geralt anyway.

Jaskier approaches him, and Geralt’s eyes widen. Geralt was under the impression they were going to just ignore each other, like any other sensible people who don’t like talking about their feelings.

Jaskier has always been a wordsmith, though, so maybe Geralt shouldn’t be surprised. And by the sound of his song, it seems like Jaskier already knows what he wants to say, even if Geralt shouldn’t let himself hope that it means what he wants.

“I love the way you just sit in the corner and brood,” Jaskier says weakly.

Geralt bites his lip, and takes a chance. “Care to join me?”

Jaskier’s eyes get round, and a peculiar look crosses his face. He sits.

Geralt smells the unease coming off of Jaskier in droves, and Geralt takes a moment to grimace at the realization that it’s because of him. Even the first day they met, when Jaskier knew nothing about him, Jaskier hadn’t been so unsettled. Geralt supposes that’s just a side effect of his personality. It’s not like he doesn’t know he’s not the easiest person to be around. He’s sure many people would say he’s the person to be around, and it seems like Jaskier is inclined to agree.

But.

Geralt wants to try and make this right.

“I’m sorry.”

“What?”

“I’m sorry,” Geralt repeats, enunciating like Jaskier just didn’t hear him.

They stare at each other for a beat. “Interesting song,” Geralt says, casting Jaskier a sideways glance. “Did you find a new fancy?”

Jaskier smiles sadly. “I think you know.”

Picking up on conversational nuances has never been Geralt’s strong suit, but Jaskier’s song wasn’t exactly subtle, was it?

Geralt stands and Jaskier follows suit. Geralt tilts his head towards the stairs, and he can hear Jaskier’s hard swallows as he trails behind Geralt, to his room. Jaskier pulls the door shut behind him and looks at Geralt expectantly.

“Jask…” Geralt starts, and Jaskier tries very hard not to let himself be won over just by the soft tone Geralt’s taken. The one he reserves for the people he loves. Jaskier is sure Roach is the only one who gets to hear it often. “I missed you.”

Jaskier shuts his eyes briefly. It’d be easy to push Geralt away, tell him this is too little, too late, and it would certainly be less complicated than picking up the tattered ends of their relationship, but. Jaskier is weak, and he is wanting.

“I missed you, too.”

[omnivorousshipper]

De Aged Deckard: You’re gonna go far, kid - Part 12

Summary:  When the Shaw siblings try to break into an Eteon facility, they’re met with some unexpected consequences. Now, it’s up to Owen and Hattie to be the older siblings Deckard never had. Even if they have no idea what they’re doing

Part 11

           Victor Shaw was a miserable man.

           For years now, he’s been forced to live off the kindness of his brother who had to pay protection money to Victor’s own wife because she was now the head of a criminal empire. One that she had never included Victor in, thus leaving him to deal with his three children by himself. The children he hasn’t seen in several decades in fact because his oldest had shoved a gun in his and told him never to come back.

           That had been the day Victor Shaw had truly broken down and become the sad shell of a man that you could find wandering the streets of London.

           He barely did anything other than drink and bask in his own misery. Sometimes his nephews would come around and bug him to do join them on a job, but usually that left a bitter taste in Victor’s mouth. It was because he let Deckard start doing jobs with his cousins that he learned how to shoot a gun, and no doubt had killed his first man with them as well. And that was what he led Deckard to pointing one at him and Victor could see the conviction in his eyes. He could still remember back to that day perfectly.

           He would never forget the pure rage and determination in Deckard’s eyes.

           But what else would he have expected from the boy? His first born would kill or even die before he let his siblings be hurt and that had been exactly what Victor had tried to do. Looking back on it, he regretted just how far he had been willing to go to punish his children, but at the time he never expected for Deckard to fight back. The boy had always done what he asked, followed his instructions down to the letter, and was even scared of disobeying him. However, once Victor dared touch his younger children, all bets were off.

           Deckard had been prepared to kill him that day.

           Instead, he had spared him, demanding he leave and never come back.

           So, Victor did as he was told.

           He had left his family behind, never once going back to their family home and had begged his brother to take him in. Luckily, being the head of the local mafia, his brother had connections to keep him hidden from his wife, who didn’t even seem to bother looking for him. Which had only stung marginally. After Deckard had been born, they had barely seen each other except for a few nights of passion when Queenie was actually in town.

           After Victor had run, his luck stayed just as shitty as before and he was stuck living with his aging older brother and his family, never once seeing his own. He would get snippets of news about his own children from time to time; Deckard went off to the military, Owen dropped out of college after a year, and Hattie graduated top of her class and went on to get several more degrees. Then, both Owen and Deckard going rogue and joining the criminal world once again. Hell, Victor had even heard about Owen’s huge stunt in London only a few years ago. He wished he could have seen his son in the action.

           But, he knew he had given that all up the day he had nearly killed his own children.

           Now, he was just a lonely old man sitting on a park bench, smoking a cigarette as he watched dozens of people pass by him, all enjoying their lives and reminding him just how miserable he was.

           No wife, no children, and nobody to even care if he died right there and then.

           Taking a long drag off his cigarette, Victor leaned his head back and stared up at the sky, letting the smoke escape from his slightly parted lips.

           “Da?”

           Blinking, Victor slowly brought his head down and stared at the little boy standing just in front of him. The boy had dirty blond hair, was wearing a skirt with leggings and a long sleeve shirt, which made him look absolutely silly in Victor’s opinion, but there was no mistaking who the boy was.

           “Deckard?” Victor breathed out.

           It wasn’t possible.

           It couldn’t be!

           How could the child version of Deckard be standing in front of him? There was no explanation for what was happening, unless he had accidently picked up one of his nephew’s joints instead of his cigarettes, but he knew that wasn’t the case. No, Deckard was clearly a child and standing in front of him.

           “Mum said you were out with Uncle Dimitri.” Deckard told him, a frown marring his young face. His eyes were scanning over Victor rapidly as if he was trying to figure out a difficult puzzle. “But I wanted to see you before we left.”

           “Left?” Victor couldn’t describe just how confused he was. What was going on? Who was Deckard talking about? Why had Queenie told him that? And how was Deckard a child?!

           “Yes.” Deckard nodded dutifully. “Oh and Hatts say we can’t stay here.”

           “Why not?”

           “I don’t know. Sorry.” Deckard’s answer came much quieter and he looked away, shame clear on his face as he admitted that.

           “It’s fine, Deckard.” Victor frowned at the little boy. He couldn’t quite remember how Deckard was when he was this small. Was he always so timid?

           Looking around, Victor searched around to see if anyone was coming for Deckard, and when he saw nobody, he stood slowly and almost cringed at how much he towered over the boy. He wished his wife hadn’t passed down the late growth spurt gene that seemed to be common in her family. Putting his hand out, Victor felt his family stretching in a way that felt odd. It took him a moment to realize he was smiling.

           “Come on, son, how about we go and talk. I’d like to spend some time with you before you leave.”

           For his part, Deckard stared up at him as if he had grown a second head before he took his hand. Victor felt the look stab him the heart; he knew exactly why Deckard had sent him that expression: he never showed any physical attention to his children, no matter how much they begged for it. No doubt Deckard didn’t expect him to start now. Straightening up, Victor vowed to do better.

           Life had obviously let him have a second chance with his eldest and he didn’t want to squander it. So, as Deckard’s small hand slipped into his, he smiled even more as Deckard squeezed it and smiled up at him. How he wished he hadn’t wasted the first time he could have done this.

           “Did you dress yourself?” Victor asked, trying to keep his smile and voice gentler, but could see his words had the opposite effect as Deckard scrunched in on himself.

           “Sorry, Da. I know I’m not supposed to wear this stuff.” He mumbled, not daring to look up at him. “Oh said I could.”

           Victor’s shoulders sagged as he saw the shame on Deckard’s face. He had almost forgotten how much a bastard he had been back then; he had mocked and ridiculed Deckard for wanting to wear dresses and skirts, but now, Victor couldn’t care less. Not when his own nephew had thrown away his own dresses and skirts for a binder.

           Crouching down, Victor got on the same eye level with Deckard before he started speaking.

           “Deckard, listen to me.” He looked his son right in the eye as he spoke. “I’m sorry for saying that you couldn’t wear those things. I should have let you wear them if you wanted to. You have my full permission to wear those things, and never ever let me or anyone else tell you that you shouldn’t.”

           The little boy stared at him with large eyes as he nodded along. Smiling at his reaction, Victor slowly got to his feet, silently cursing his bad knees, and held his hand out for Deckard’s again. Much more enthusiastically, Deckard took his hand.

           “Come on,” Victor looked down at his son. “Let’s go catch up.”

           Setting off out of the park, Victor felt himself smiling more than he had in years, possibly his life as he led his now young son through the paths. He had no idea if he was actually dead and hallucinating this whole experience, or if Deckard really was a child again and giving him a second chance. Either way, Victor wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth- not when it came to being with his son again. No, he wanted to spend as much time with Deckard as he could, especially if his siblings were planning on taking him away.

[luminescentauthor]

The revelation in the final episode that Lilith hadn't meant to curse Eda that badly changes our perspective on Lilith's actions completely, and I think I’ve taken it differently than most people. Here’s my take on it.

Lilith, in trying to convince Eda to join the Emperor's Coven, was never trying to hurt her sister. She was trying desperately to atone for the unforgivable act of cursing her sister, an action that’s been haunting her for years. Suddenly, we can clearly see Lilith's regret and guilt.

I doubt Lilith actually thought "It was time to receive my reward" upon seeing her cursed sister run off. If she did, I suspect at this point she still thought it would last through the day at most. Unless she found out while casting it (given the look of shock that appeared on her face as she did so), there was no way for Lilith to know at that point just what had happened. If she did know, I suspect she just succumbed to the pressure of the moment, and of everyone expecting her to join the Emperor's Coven after "earning" it. I seriously doubt that Lilith remained guiltless for very long. 

But Lilith can't fix the curse on her own. If the Healing Hat would’ve fixed things, I’m pretty sure Lilith would’ve betrayed Belos to nab it, even if she was torn for a while. And she eventually realizes the only way to save Eda, the only way to “make up” for her mistake, is to convince Belos to heal her. So I think she probably became the Head of the Emperor's Coven either because a) she worked her ass off at magic to find a way to heal Eda and became extremely powerful as a result, or b) she was trying to gain political power to help Eda/persuade Belos. Or a combination.

Then Belos agrees to heal Eda if she joins his coven. To Lilith, this is probably sounds perfect! She blames herself for this mess, because she believed that Eda sacrificed her position in the coven for Lilith's sake, while Lilith selfishly hurt her sister. Frankly, Lilith probably didn't realize that Eda truly meant it when she said that she wanted nothing to do with covens. Lilith probably thought Eda was stubbornly martyring herself for Lilith, and was quietly going insane trying to "reason" with her. So getting Eda into the coven, where she always should have been if not for Lilith, and also healing her? Win-win!

Yeah… Mistake. Because Belos.

The worst part was that Lilith pushed it too far. She became so desperate that her vision tunneled, and she was willing to give anything to "atone." Frankly, Lilith isn't a very compassionate person to begin with; she was willing to steal a place her sister had earned through hard work by cheating, she's more than willing to beat people up (see the scammer in Sense and Insensitivity; "you're welcome for the chance to bond" *zaps him* -- which is valid, tbh), and more. Add desperation to fix her mistakes and a deadline given to her by the Emperor and the threat of losing her own position, and her vision narrowed completely. And her position clearly also meant a lot to her, since she was willing to cheat against Eda back in the day. I think she could only see Belos, that position, and Eda. As such, she did unforgivable things, such as threatening and also risking Luz's life. (Actually, I expect that in Season Two we will see Lilith risk herself or get injured protecting Luz, in stark contract to pushing her down towards the rocks/spikes/whatever those were.)

In essence, I believe that there is a big difference between a Lilith who's trying to convince Eda to join the coven because of orders from the Emperor, versus a Lilith who has spent years -- most likely decades -- regretting and trying to fix her egregious mistake. It doesn’t excuse her actions, towards Luz in particular, but I think this take on her character does put a lot of thing into a different perspective.

Thanks for reading! If you’d like to, check out my Owl House tag for more! Since I tag different things under “theory” versus “meta” versus “analysis,” please just check my Owl House tag.

[tangent101]

Unpopular Opinion Time

I’m going to say something that I know some folk are going to disagree on... but I honestly feel that Max Caulfield is a closeted lesbian instead of being bisexual. And I think there is sufficient information in the game and with Max’s journals to verify this viewpoint.

First, it’s important to explain something: you can be lesbian and still have had sex with men. There are lesbians who were married to men for years before finally accepting the truth about themselves... just as there are gay men who were suppressing the truth about themselves and then after a decade or more and having had kids, divorcing their wives because they were gay all along. You can be lesbian and not know it... all you know is that something is wrong. You know that you should be happy with a guy and can even have the most decent boyfriend or husband in the world... and yet it doesn’t work because you are not wired that way. It happens.

These women (and men) were raised to believe they were straight. They were raised to believe they should be dating someone of the opposite gender. They can end up having families and yet have that niggling sense of something being wrong in the back of their heads. This is because of a concept called heteronormativity or the view that heterosexuality is the default sexual orientation. You can be raised believing you’re straight (or cisgender for that matter) and never quite understand why things feel off. 

Now let’s look at Max Caulfield. Folk like to claim she’s bisexual because of the pseudo-romance angle with Warren Graham and with Max’s claims of being attracted to “skater dudes” but that the attraction isn’t mutual. Yet when you see Max interacting with the skaters of Blackwell, she knows pretty much nothing about them and outside of the whole “I’m into them” never seems to show any actual attraction toward them. It’s a line that falls flat. It’s like the writers decided to check the box “likes guys who ride on skateboards” and never went anywhere with it... or at least it might seem that way until you find out that Chloe Price was into skateboarding... Max’s best friend who she is increasingly crushing on as the game continues. It’s reasonable to ask how much of Max’s attraction to “skater dudes” is because she is into Chloe skating but doesn’t realize for a while that she could be into Chloe. 

Max’s relationship with Warren is more complicated. There has been claims that Warren’s romance angle (which never was that strong a path in the game, especially when compared to that of Chloe) was added in because of a strong positive fan reaction to Warren. Even then, there are enough actions that Warren takes that honestly are disturbing that honestly, Warren is not a good match for Max. The boy photoshops a picture of Max with him and keeps it in his gym locker - a place that Max is unlikely to ever see it, but also a place where other guys will see it and thus give Warren “bragging rights” about Max. He also has a date lined up with Brooke but asks out Max and then if the player has Max accept Warren’s date invite will call Brooke while Max is still around and cancel the date with Brooke and state he’s going with Max instead. He even instigates fights with Nathan Prescott, likely in an attempt to “show off” to Max and to be her “knight in shining armor.” 

A much larger factor as to why I just don’t get a sense of Max being into Warren is her journal. I half-suspect some fans don’t bother reading it which is a shame as it gives a lot of important details about Max and her thoughts and views. Most important to this is her early comments about Warren in which outside of considering him “dark and witty” she shows no attraction to him. In fact, on the first day of the game, her journal has this specifically to say:

We talked about Warren and Dana implied he likes me. Ew.

Damning words. Seriously, she went “ew” over a “dark and witty” guy “liking” her. Another torpedo in the water has this comment in Max’s journal if she accepted the date with Warren: 

Hope he doesn't make a lame move on me... (Not that he would, egomaniac.) Warren and I do have a lot in common, but he's like a supercool geek brother...

First, she doesn’t think Warren is into her. In fact, even entertaining that thought has Max calling herself an egomaniac. But what’s especially damning is the fact she considers Warren a “supercool geek brother.” I’m sorry, but Max went beyond Friendzoning Warren. She brotherzoned him.

The closest her journal has to suggesting Max is at all attracted to Warren is her journal entry if you didn’t kiss Chloe and do kiss Warren: 

Considering how insane my life has been this week, kissing Warren in the middle of a deadly storm didn't seem to be that strange. It felt like we were flipping off the cruel universe... and if I was going to die, I wanted one kiss from a boy I cared about.

Honestly it’s not much different if you also have Max kiss Chloe (though the line changes to “I wanted one kiss from two people I truly cared about”), and honestly if she thinks about Warren as a brother then obviously she’d still care for him. So the whole bit of Max being into Warren really starts to fall apart when you take a long look at the facts and Max’s journal.

Another interesting bit can be found in Max’s journal if the player has Max not kiss Chloe... and it’s this line: 

I would have, but I didn't like being dared like it was some big deal. Maybe I am scared. Of what? I think I'm too young for marriage.

Later, again if Max hadn’t kissed Chloe, when she returns from her first timeline alteration trip she writes this in her journal: 

I've never been so glad to see Chloe in my life. The second I saw her blue hair and that beautiful pissed off face, I kind of regretted not kissing her when she double dared me. Maybe if she had double dog dared me...

And Max’s final entry in the “didn’t kiss Chloe” setting is thus:

Maybe that's why I hated watching Chloe being so cruel in the nightmare, calling me names and trying to hurt me... I was surprised that it was like a physical pain in my heart. Is that the power of love... or friendship?

Is that the power of love... or friendship? Max asks that in both settings, in which she kissed Chloe and where she didn’t. It’s much more obvious when Max is busy kissing Chloe on that third day (and seriously, Dontnod should have included an option for Max to say “then don’t back away this time!” if you have Max Rewind for another kiss three or more times).

The argument for Max being into guys is at its heart as flimsy as that of Chloe being into guys because she has condoms in her wallet. Yet the condoms can be explained away as used to keep sex toys sanitary (yes, women can get STDs from other women if they’re not careful!), and Max’s “interest” in guys can easily be seen as “expected” of her. Given that Max can literally step out of Chloe’s closet to protect Chloe... Life is Strange can easily be seen as Max’s coming to terms with her own lesbianism and stepping away from an easy and expected life to embrace the unknown with the woman she loves by her side.

[fromtheo-withlove]

Pt. 3 - The Sentencing

A huge thank you to anyone reading :) I’m so grateful for all the support and I’m excited to keep going with this story!

TW: mild violence, death threats, near-death experience, reference to war crimes, choking

@ihaveacrushonjester

Masterlist | Previous | Next

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Bennett took a deep breath and looked up at the king, trying to look braver than he felt.

He had known this war would probably kill him. He had envisioned it a thousand times. A sword through his armor, a volley of arrows maybe. With the way things had been going, he even thought it might’ve been one of his own soldiers putting a blade to his neck while he slept.

At first, the notion terrified him and he was vigilantly on guard during battle. But eventually he grew weary, and at times he had even selfishly hoped for death, knowing that the pain and bloodshed of war would continue without him, but wanting to be free of it himself. He became bolder in his fighting style, often leaving himself exposed, but he hadn’t realized the enemy only wanted him alive.

He realized it now, as he knelt bound at the kings feet, waiting to hear his death sentence.

“I know the pain of war well. God knows Baramont has faced more than its fair share even before now,” the king sighed. “But this conflict has taken a greater toll on our kingdom than all of those wars combined. We had decades of peace with Lianhar. It should have never come to this.” He paused and shook his head.

“Prince Bennett, when you were a child living in this castle, I treated you like you were family. Now, you kneel before me, a man, accused of murdering my people in cold blood. Not only soldiers. No…. that would at least be expected in a time of war. Perhaps even forgivable….” The king’s voice filled with a growing rage.

“But your soldiers crossed that line. When you started to lose, your men burned villages in retaliation. Razed crop fields. Killed innocent men, women, and children. Probably took liberties I won’t dare utter. This is simply unforgivable.”

Bennett stayed silent but stared at the floor, jaw clenched. “Bennett, do you have anything to say in response to this accusation?”

“He’s right. I’m a monster,” Bennett thought to himself. “I deserve to drown in the blood I’ve allowed to be spilled.”

After a moment’s pause, he spoke. “I accept responsibility for the accusations levied against me, Your Highness.” He heard a sob from Aurelia. He couldn’t bare to look at her, didn’t deserve to gaze upon her face.

“I was the commander of the regiment that committed those crimes. I deeply regret that they occurred and I-“ his own voice began to catch. “I know I can never bring back what’s been lost. I-… I never meant-”

“That’s enough,” the king interjected coldly. “It doesn’t matter what you meant or regret. I’ve heard enough to pass your sentence.”

Bennett nodded. He was ready for this all to be over.

“You know you must die for these crimes, don’t you?”

“Yes, Your Highness,” Bennett kept his head down, too ashamed to face the man he once thought of as a second father.

“Good. But you must also know that a quick execution is a mercy... One not afforded to war criminals.”

Hearing those words, Bennet felt his stomach drop in fear. He should’ve expected it. He knew he deserved a drawn-out punishment.

But he also knew he had always been weak and pathetic. Even as he tried desparately to be brave, it felt hard to breathe. He barely registered the cheers and taunts coming from the audience.

“You will eventually die for your crimes. But it will not be today. You will be kept as a prisoner and tortured until I decide you’ve suffered enough to even start atoning for your crimes. You will also be a warning to other neighboring kingdoms – they’ll know what awaits them if they go to war with Baramont.”

Bennett had started to count in his head, trying to slow his breathing, tune out the room around him. He knew his own suffering was a small price to pay if it meant the end of the war. He needed to focus on that.

The king continued,“If you were a lone actor, we could leave your sentence at that. But you represent Lianhar, and your father the king deserves to be punished as well. You may have led your regiment, but he was the one who incited this war in the first place.”

Bennett finally glanced up from the floor, looking up at the king in fear and confusion.

“In order to truly punish your father and kingdom, make them suffer as we have, we cannot just kill soldiers can we? Innocents died on our side. And justice is justice.”

Bennett paled. “No, please, Your Highness. Please let this end with me, add to my debts. Punish me more! Don’t hurt Lianhar’s civilians, I beg of you.” Bennett looked at the king, apprehension in his eyes. This was supposed to be over. This damn war needed to be over.

“Don’t worry Prince Bennett, I’m not as cruel as the rulers of Lianhar. I’m not talking about civilians. I found a way to punish your father and kingdom without involving them. As punishment for this war, your royal bloodline will end with you and with Gabriel.” The king beckoned to the guards near the doors. “Bring Prince Gabriel in.”

They had Gabriel? “Wait. NO! No, oh god no.” Bennett struggled against the hands holding him down on his knees. They were prepared for him to fight at the news. “You can’t do this! He’s not a soldier! This can’t be happening…”

But as the doors opened and Bennett’s guard shoved him around to watch, Bennett saw his worst nightmare unfolding before him.

His little brother, his kind-hearted, intelligent, better-than-he’d-ever-be little brother, was being shoved forward by a guard. His hands were shackled together tightly in front of him and a white blindfold covered his eyes.

“Gabriel!” He tried to go towards his brother, but he was still being held down.

“Bennett?!” his brother’s voice cracked. Bennett fought harder, but only earned himself a kick to the stomach.

“Your Highness, please, have mercy. Gabriel had nothing to do with this war. He wanted peace, none of this was his fault.”

“That’s exactly why he must be punished as well. It’s not his fault, I’m well aware. Gabriel, I am sorry you must be involved. But we need peace and retribution. And Lianhar needs to learn its lesson. Besides, Bennett, did your men stop to think about how many of my people just wanted peace when they were slaughtering them?”  

Gabriel was silent as he was finally forced down near his brother, but Bennett could see that he was trembling. He so badly wanted to go to him, apologize and beg for his forgiveness, but he was still being restrained. He realized with growing horror that he couldn’t fix this. The tears that had had managed to hold back came all at once. Sobs wracked his body. “Gabriel, I’m- I’m so sorry. Your Highness, just punish me, please.”

In desperation, he glanced at Aurelia, who looked as stricken as he was. “Please,” he begged through tears. He saw her stand and reach for her father’s arm, but he turned to her and whispered something to her angrily. She sat back down, looking sorrowful.

The king nodded to the knight standing near Gabriel. “The punishment, as we discussed.”

They were starting his punishment already? Bennett began to panic.

The knight near Gabriel grabbed the prince’s dark curls in his fist and pulled him up so that he was standing. Gabriel whimpered and tried to pull away to no avail. He was still blindfolded, and he flinched when he felt guards grab both of his arms. The shackles holding his wrists were unlocked, but his arms were immediately wrenched behind his back and reshackled. He looked around blindly, trying to understand what was happening to him.

“Benne-“

His frightened whisper was cut off as the knight suddenly wrapped his hands around his throat. Gabriel struggled but the hands only tightened as he was lifted onto his toes. He opened his mouth, trying desperately to breathe, but finding no air.

“Noooooooo,” Bennett moaned, his voice breaking on a sob. He was held back by two guards now - he was powerless. “Please stop, please let him breathe. Plea-ease, I’ll do anything.”

Seconds felt like an eternity. He wasn’t stopping. Time ticked by and he wasn’t stopping. Bennett could vaguely hear jeers from the crowd, this was hell. Gabriel was twitching, barely struggling anymore. They were going to kill him here and now. This had to be a nightmare. Please, let this be a nightmare.

“Enough,” the king ordered. Immediately, Gabriel was released and crumpled to the floor. For a split second, Bennett was sure he was dead, but then he started taking gasping, ragged breaths.

“That’s enough for today. Guards, escort our prisoners to the dungeons and clean them up. They need to be ready for our banquet tomorrow. They’ll be the entertainment for the night.”

Bennett didn’t have a chance to check on his brother before he was dragged away. He was filled with relief that his brother was still alive, but he couldn’t shake the horrible thought that it was selfish to want him to live through this too.

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Continue reading: Next part

[writtenonreceipts]

Hi! I love what you did with the Rowaelin angst prompt, you really got me there. I was wondering, what about a part 2? Maybe based on the song “ last Christmas?” Thanks!

is it wrong that i’ve never really listened to that song before?  oopes.  haha.  when i listened, it struck a chord of even more angst with me so here we are! thanks so much for reading and for the ask!!

read part 1 here

#

One year.

She’d thought that it would have been enough time.  She’d hoped that it would be.  But now, being back in the city staring up at Dorian’s apartment building--Aelin was terrified.  

She was shaking, her heart throbbing, her breath rattling.  It didn’t occur to her at that moment that she was having a panic attack.  Because Aelin did not have panic attacks.  She was in control of herself and her past and it was fine.

A doorman opened the front door as Aelin approached the building.  She gave him a smile while also pondering how the hell Dorian could afford a place like this.  The last she knew he’d been cut off from his family and struck out on his own.  Of course Dorian Havilliard wasn’t one who stayed down for long.  It shouldn’t have surprised her that Dorian lived in a place like this.

The lobby of the building was warm with soft golden light giving the entire space a decadent glow.  As she entered the elevator, Aelin managed to get a hold of her breathing under control.  It helped that she was going to the top floor.  

Mother above, Dorian, she thought, how did this happen?

She should have known that being gone for a year would do this.  Nothing would be the same, things would change, and hell--she deserved the unsettling tides.

The elevator opened and Aelin went the few short steps to his door.  There was only one other apartment on this floor.  Not that she should have been surprised.  When she knocked on the door she was met by a handsome man with black hair and a neatly pressed button up shirt.  His face lit up as he took her in.

“Aelin!”

“Hey Dorian,” she said, putting on her best smile.

“Damn, I’ve missed you,” he said.  He yanked her inside with a flourish. “Seriously, Aelin, you couldn’t have called?”

“I’ve been busy,” she said while shooting him a dramatic eye roll. “And so have you by the looks of it.”

Dorian grinned.  “C’mon.  I’ve got a surprise for you.”

Aelin followed him through the front hall of the penthouse.  Everything about it screamed of sophistication.  The hard oak floors, the cream colored walls, soft lights.  She truly shouldn’t have been surprised that Dorian had found his way back into this sort of society.

Christmas music drifted in from deeper in the apartment mingling with the sound of voices.  Warm scents of baked goods and cinnamon greeted Aelin as she rounded a corner and came up short.

Not only was the living room filled with men and women in fancy suits and dresses--Dorian’s business partners if Aelin had to guess--but several familiar faces as well greeted her.

“You're here!”  

Aelin had to stagger back as someone nearly tackled her with a hug.  It didn’t take long for her to recognize the embrace or the familiar scents of cedar and lavender.  Lysandra gripped her tighter.

“I missed you too,” Aelin chuckled.

When she was finally released from Lysandra’s near death grip, Aelin got a good look around at who else was gathered for the party.  She froze upon seeing Lorcan, Fenrys, and Connall.  If the three of them were here that could only mean--

She was gratefully distracted at seeing Aedion come from around the corner by the kitchen.  

“Well, well.  You’ve finally decided to grace us with your presence?” Aedion quipped.

Aelin had to bite back an inappropriate comment that she knew Dorian’s other guests wouldn’t appreciate.  Instead, she rolled her eyes and pulled him into a hug.

“Missed you too, ass,” she said quietly enough so as not to disturb the high society ambiance of the party.

“Let me get you a drink,” Aedion grinned.

He was quickly replaced by Dorian’s girlfriend, a delightfully terrifying young woman with silvery blonde hair and vibrant gold eyes.

“I hear you're the one to come to to stage an emergency ending to the festivities,” Manon said.  She had a shot of whisky in both hands and shoved one toward Aelin.

“Get me a lighter and smoke alarm and I can have this place cleared out in an hour,” Aelin replied with a wink.  Manon grinned and shot back her drink.

She could do this.  Despite all the unfamiliar faces and how strange it was to be back home--Aelin would make this work.  She unfortunately had to talk about what she had been doing the past year.  A lot.

Not long after the...incident...she’d taken an opportunity to travel to Italy to play as a concert pianist in various opera and play productions.  And then her work in the fashion industry led her to move to Paris for the last six months.  And she hadn’t regretted anything.  Not really.

The only thing she actually did regret was staying away from her family and friends for so long.  But she’d done so to keep herself sane.  She had to keep reminding herself that there was a reason as to why she left.  And a reason to why she would probably continue to stay away.

Aedion was just explaining the disastrous way he had proposed to Lysandra--when had Aelin missed that?--when the door to Dorian’s apartment opened again.  

Aelin was facing away from it but from the looks shot in her direction, she knew exactly who had entered.  She had to force herself to take a small, slow sip of her drink and not look over her shoulder.

“Hey Rowan,” Dorian called out. He’d been talking to someone Aelin thought was the CEO of some company or another but moved quickly out of Aelin’s line of sight.

When had they all gotten on close enough terms to be friends?  How had they all gotten to be friends?  And why the hell hadn’t Dorian warned her?

Panic swirled in Aelin’s gut, but she kept her back straight, her chin up.  She had no reason to be cowering.  

“Sorry I’m late.”

That voice.  That damn voice.  How could it still cause her heart to stutter and her skin to flush?  Aelin found herself gripping her beer tighter as she stared straight ahead at Aedion who was watching her carefully.

She was fine.

One year.  She’d had one year and she was fine.

“Nah, you’re fine,” Dorian said.  

Has the music gotten quieter?  Had all the voices stilled and silenced?  Aelin could hear her blood pounding in her ears.  Her palms started sweating and she knew she needed air.

She reached out and squeezed Lysandra’s hand who had diligently stayed by her side all night.

“I need some air,” Aelin said.  And without further explanation she darted to the balcony, slipping out into the cold air.

Despite how hot she was, the chill immediately struck Aelin to the core.  She downed the rest of the drink she had in one hand and set in on the small patio table.  The alcohol did little to help her.  If anything, it made her feel even more miserable.

Wrapping her arms around herself, Aelin stared out over the city.  From this vantage, she could forget about the traffic down below.  She could forget that just a few blocks to the west was her old apartment.  

Instead, Aelin let the chill wind brush against her skin.  The air helped her mind clear, even with all the drinks she’d had, and helped her breath a little easier.  

She’d made a mistake coming tonight.  Not only had it been overwhelming to see all her friends again, all at once, but now she couldn’t leave.  Not without looking like a wounded animal in front of that bast--

The door of the balcony opened behind her.  Aelin stiffened, but turned around.

There was Rowan.  Hell he was still just as handsome as ever with his broad chest, piercing eyes, and brooding face.  He’d cut his hair since the last time Aelin had seen it.  It was styled neatly and didn’t even hang in his eyes.  His suit fit his form well, the tie at his neck loosed just enough that Aelin caught sight of a tattoo trying to sprawl it’s way up his neck.  That was new.  

“You looked cold,” the ass said.  In one hand he held out a coat that blessedly looked like the kind of thing Manon would wear.  Black with too many zippers and buckles.  

She wished she hadn’t finished off her drink so she could toss it in his face.  But she was cold and she was the bigger person.  She accepted the coat and slipped it on.  It was lined with soft fleece and Aelin debated trying to steal in from Manon.

They stood there facing each other not not seeing the other.  After her initial appraisal of him, Aelin focused her attention over his shoulder where Lysandra stood watching through the glass door.  Aelin had never been more grateful for her friend.  Rowan also didn’t look at her.  Instead he looked over the cityscape behind her, hands stuffed in his pockets.

They stood there.  In silence.  Only the barest hints of Christmas music filtered from inside.  Despite the coat, Aelin felt a chill rise on her skin.  She didn’t want to be here.  She didn’t want to do this.

“Can we talk?” Rowan asked quietly.  

She felt the second his gaze turned to her face.  She felt his eyes rove her body and felt the way he assessed her.  Always so analytical.  Always so observant.

“I can’t do this right now, Rowan,” she said, tucking a stray bit of hair behind one ear.  She shocked her head and tried to dismiss the look of utter pain on his beautiful face.

“I just want--I need to talk to you,” he whispered.

Aelin stepped away from him and leaned against the balcony railing.  She stared into the main room and found Lysandra, still standing and watching.

“I can’t,” she repeated, “It’s been a year and I still can’t even look at you Rowan.  Do you not realize what you did to me?”

The pain on Rowan’s face hardened.  Despite the time they had spent apart, Aelin was still able to read him.  Anger, disappointment.  And more pain.  Good.

“You left before we had the chance to talk,” he said.

“Talk about what?” She said, cutting off before she said his name again.  It hurt far too much to keep repeating it. “That you cheated on me?  That instead of staying that night, you went out and got so drunk you couldn’t even control yourself?  Is that what you want to talk about?  That you broke my heart?  That after everything you and I have been through you just said to hell with it and went and trampled all over it?”

Aelin had to push away from the railing and pace a few steps.  Her body was shaking and her mind would not settle.  She bit down on her tongue to keep from talking more.  Because if she continued she knew her voice would get too loud and she couldn’t ruin Dorian’s party by screaming at Rowan.

He only watched her.  Aelin knew she had cut him deep but honestly did he deserve anything else?

“You said you wanted to work on our relationship,” he finally said.

“That was before,” Aelin snapped, but Rowan spoke over her.

“You wanted to work on what we have--had--and fix it.  And I’m the ass that took that away, I know I am,” he said, his voice quiet but with burning intensity. “But when you left without warning, without putting a closure on what happened, how do you think I felt, Aelin?  Did you stop to think about what that did to me?”

“Quite honestly I couldn’t care less about how my actions affect you,” she said and met his eyes. “Because obviously you couldn’t care enough about me.”

As he stared at her, Aelin swore she could feel a phantom of his hands on her body.  She’d imagined his touch before.  So many times at night when she struggled to fall asleep.  It made her sick then and it did so now.  

She’d had a year.  Wasn’t that enough?

Aelin broke the connection first by turning to where she’d set her glass.  She picked it up and made to step around him.  Rowan made to grab her arm, but she flinched away.

“Don’t,” she whispered.

He retreated, just a step, but Aelin could still feel the ghost of his breath on her skin.

“I still love you,” he said.

Aelin squeezed her eyes shut, fighting back the tears building behind her eyes.

“Good-bye Rowan.”

She slid the door of the balcony open and reentered the apartment.  The warmth immediately saturated her skin and enveloped her.  Lysandra was by her side in an instant.

Aelin was grateful when her friend did nothing but take the glass from her frozen fingers and guide her away from the balcony.  

Dorian wasted no time in finding her and giving her arm a squeeze. “I didn’t think he was actually going to come.  I mean, he hasn’t been out with any of us for a while.”

The look of sheer panic in her eyes told Aelin that he was telling the truth.  She patted his hand.  “I’m fine, Dorian.  But I should go.  I have somewhere to be.”

She gently brushed his hand away and gave Lysandra a firm nod.

“I can kick him out,” Dorian insisted.

“And make a scene?” Aelin shook her head. “I heard what Fenrys said, he’s working for Maeve now and you don’t want her on your bad side.”

Dorian looked ready to refute everything Aelin had said, but she held a hand up to silence him.

“I really do have somewhere to be,” she said.  She slipped out of Manon’s jacket and shoved it in Dorian’s hands.  

“Aelin, this handsome fella said he’s looking for you,” Manon’s voice rang out.

She looked up and felt the first bit of relief that night.

Sam Cortland adjusted his tie as he stepped into the living room.  His eyes immediately landed on Aelin and he smiled brightly.

“Hey,” she said.  His presence immediately strengthened her from the conversation she’d just had with Rowan. “I didn’t think you would make it.”

“I left my meeting early,” Sam admitted.  He wasted no time in leaning down and pressing a chaste kiss to Aelin’s mouth. “It was worth it though.”

Aelin made introductions and Sam explained one fateful night in Paris after a work meeting where he had finally managed to woo Aelin into a date.  Six months later they were still together.

There was laughter and jokes that Aelin didn’t hear.  She knew Sam had wrapped an arm around her waist at one point.  Someone found her a new drink.  

But she missed it all.

Not when snow began falling outside and a pair of green eyes bore into her.  And even with the poor angle, she couldn’t quite seem to shake him.  She wondered if he knew that it had taken months for Aelin to stop crying herself to sleep.  That sometimes she still did.  And despite how much she cared for Sam she struggled telling him three simple words.  They still didn’t live together.  They hadn’t even slept together.

The snow began falling in earnest outside and Aelin could see the way it caught in Rowan’s hair and lingered on his jacket.  She missed everything going on around her except for the flex in Rowan’s jaw as he watched her.

She missed it all because it had been a year and she was still in love with the man who had broken her heart.

#

as always thanks for reading, for comments, for reblogs...it always means so so much!

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[dawnquafam]

Thor & Loki + “every time you look at me I feel invisible”

A/N: Set after the Loki show.

Word count: 1,258

Thor was thrilled to have his brother back. He was. The night Loki had come home, uncertain and guarded but blessedly, beautifully alive, had been, without a doubt, the most joyous moment of Thor’s long, long life. He wouldn’t trade these last weeks for anything.

Things just… weren’t going quite as smoothly as he had hoped.

Taking a look around the party and realizing Loki was nowhere to be seen, Thor excused himself from his conversation with Sif and Valkyrie and slipped out to search. It wasn’t difficult – it was a cloudless night, so all he had to do was find the palace’s most remote balcony, and lo and behold, there he stood, brooding and silent beneath the stars.

“You missed a wonderful opportunity to team up with Valkyrie to mock me,” Thor said.

Loki responded only with a noncommittal grunt.

Thor leaned on the railing beside him, trying to ignore the cautious glance Loki shot at him, the way he leaned slightly away. “You would’ve jumped at that once.”

“Jumped at which part?” Loki asked drily. “To mock you, or to team up with Valkyrie?”

It was still odd, to put it mildly, to hear Loki say her full name with no hint of fondness in his tone. They had known each other so painfully briefly, and yet… “Both, I suppose,” he answered. “You loved mocking me almost as much as you loved her.”

Loki set his jaw, looking away. “I didn’t love her. He did.”

Thor nodded, closing his eyes against the sudden memories of Loki’s death. “My mistake.”

“Yours and everyone else’s,” Loki muttered.

Thor furrowed his brows. “What does that mean?”

“I-” He stopped, shaking his head. “It doesn’t matter.”

Thor recognized that hesitation, that way of silencing himself. He hadn’t for centuries, and he had regretted it for years. “Things are different now, Loki,” he pushed gently. “Whatever you’re feeling, it matters.”

Loki studied him, eyes narrowing slightly, glittering in calculation as he weighed his options, but beneath that veneer of the Loki he had encountered in New York over a decade ago, he saw the man he just been beginning to become after Sakaar, the one who yearned to trust the only family he had left.

As the silence stretched on, Thor offered jokingly, “You could always punch me, if that would make opening up easier for you.”

Loki rolled his eyes. “I don’t want to punch you. Usually.”

“But you’re always happy to stab me?”

“Stabbing is entirely different,” he defended instantly.

Thor laughed, and much to his relief, Loki cracked a little smile. In that moment, it may just have been the most precious sight Thor had ever witnessed. “I thought I’d never see that again.”

“What?”

“You smiling. A real smile, not one of your lies or illusions.”

“Careful, brother,” Loki warned. “One might think you’ve gone soft.”

Thor let out a faintly nostalgic little huff, looking up at the stars shining overhead, the stars he had never taken the time to appreciate them in his boyhood. He had never appreciated how beautiful they were. How powerful they were.

How fragile they were.

“That is not the insult it once was,” he murmured.

Loki didn’t answer for a long moment, studying him once more. “No,” he eventually said. “Perhaps it’s not.”

Thor pulled his attention back to his brother, relieved to notice that the space between them had diminished. “You and I have had many, many… many differences,” he said. “But I assure you, we put them behind us. We-”

Loki sighed, shaking his head. “There was no we, Thor. That’s exactly the problem.”

Thor stopped, mouth hanging open, anything he’d been about to say dying in an instant. “What?”

Loki hesitated, starting to pick nervously at his palm. He looked away, took a breath, and finally admitted, “Every time you look at me, I feel invisible.”

Thor blinked.

What?

“Loki-”

“When you look at me,” Loki overrode him, speaking a little too quickly, as if trying to get the words out before anything – or anyone, a voice in the back of Thor’s mind whispered – could stop him, “you see that Loki. The one that helped you defeat Hela. The one that died for you.”

Thor fell silent.

He wanted to protest. He had only been trying to pave a smooth path forward, after all, trying to make whatever mess this was easier for the both of them. But even if he could speak without jeopardizing the tentative trust Loki was placing in him… he had no defense against the truth.

He’s right. He’s not the Loki I lost.

“It’s not only you,” Loki added. “Valkyrie sees the man she fell in love with. Most of the humans see the man who attacked New York. Bruce – Hulk – whomever he is now – sees some combination of the two. But I’m not-”

He paused, considering. “Well, I suppose I am him, in a way, up to a certain point. But beyond that point, I am my own man. I am not the same Loki who invaded Earth, but neither am I the same Loki who decided to save Asgard, and ever since my return, no one has seen that. Everyone sees the person they expect to see – the person they want to see – and as a result, no one sees the person I am.”

We don’t, do we?

Thor scoured his memory, casting about for even a single moment when someone had acknowledged this most basic fact, and couldn’t find one.

There was only one thing to be said in response.

“I’m sorry.”

Loki whipped his head around to stare, eyes wide. “You are?”

Of course I am.

But Loki – this Loki, the person standing beside him, the brother he now had – wouldn’t know that. He couldn’t. He hadn’t lived through anything that would prove Thor spoke the truth. He remembered only the arrogant prince, not the humbled king. He remembered only the selfish brother who trampled over everyone else’s wants and needs to get his own way.

And in ignoring that, Thor had done nothing to convince him anything had changed.

It’s time to learn from my mistakes.

“I am,” he said. “Because you’re right. You have your own past, your own story, and that’s forged a new man. I was in such a hurry to pick up on the life I thought I would have with the other version of you that I ignored that, and it hurt you. For that, I am genuinely sorry.”

“You are,” Loki repeated slowly. He tilted his head. “You truly are sorry.”

It wasn’t a question this time.

“Perhaps you really have changed.”

“I’d like to think I have.” Thor straightened up, offering his hand to his brother. “And from this moment forth, I’d like the chance to prove it.”

Loki began to reach out, then stopped, hand hovering in midair. “What if you don’t?”

“Then you’re free to go,” Thor said, even as the mere thought of the possibility threatened to tear his heart to shreds yet again. “I won’t hold you against your will – gods know you’ve known more than your fair share of prisons. New Asgard will not be one of them.”

At long last, Loki nodded, clasping his hand in a firm shake. “You have your chance, then, brother.”

Thor beamed.

Loki’s lips quirked into a smirk. “You have five minutes.”

Thor laughed, throwing his arm around Loki’s shoulders, steering him back to the party.

Loki let him, laughing with him for the first time in too many years.

[cosimuhs]

haven’t seen you (since i was your little girl)

“Oi, Poppins, there’s a lady here to see ya,” she barely gets out, before the woman is turning and Dani’s face is falling, hands grappling for purchase on her pots.

“Mom?”

[or: Jamie has never been good with parents, but this? This feels important.]

read on ao3 or under the cut!

It’s a slow afternoon when the bell on the door jingles open, bringing with it a brisk wave of autumn air.

Honestly, as much as Jamie grumbles about it, autumn in Vermont has grown on her. She’s not one to celebrate the death of plants lightly (unless it’s a pesky invasive species) but there is something to be said about New England foliage. In quite the contradiction, it feels like life is abound in these months - the crunch of leaves and the brightness of Dani’s laugh that settles deep in Jamie’s chest.

As the heat of the summer slips and then disappears altogether, so does her personal space. In the newfound chill, Dani takes it upon herself to warm up, not with extra layers, but by pressing as close as possible — in the street, their joined hands stuffed into Jamie’s jacket pocket, shoulders knocking, or in the middle of the night, when Jamie will wake up, half off the bed, a pile of blonde hair heavy on her sternum.

Yeah, it definitely is one of her favorite seasons.

The only downside is the dip in sales, people sequestered at home against the chill, not looking to start gardening as they face the winter head on. Not to mention, as the months trip slowly past the autumnal equinox, the housewives who pop in, begging for mistletoe and holly in the middle of October.

The woman who has just entered, greying around the temples with lines of age deeply indented around her eyes, seems like just the type, and Jamie steels herself to send her packing for another month or two.

She looks strangely surprised to see Jamie, which is dumb because it’s her bloody shop, and even more taken aback at the lilt in her accent when she asks if the woman needs her help. That at least, she’s well acquainted with, because for some reason, no one in this town is aware that Brits exist.

So caught up in her stewing, she almost misses when the woman speaks. Almost.

“Maybe I got the wrong shop,” she mumbles, wringing her hands.

Jamie has to try hard to tamp down her annoyance because, really, what kind of product do you expect from a store called The Leafling?

Instead she tips on her customer service smile, the one that Dani says makes her look like she swallowed a lemon. “What were you looking for?”

“Who,” the woman corrects and pauses long enough that Jamie thinks this odd lady is not going to provide any other information before she continues.

“I’m looking for Danielle… er — Clayton. Danielle Clayton.”

There’s something familiar about the woman, yet Jamie doesn’t recognize her as one of their regulars. Even weirder, Jamie has never heard anyone refer to Dani as Danielle in her entire life.

“Ah, she’s out at the minute, but she should be back soon,” Jamie says, and she’s about to ask how and why and who, but the lady must see the confusion in her eyes and cuts her off.

I’m Karen,” the woman adds helpfully, as though that will clear literally anything up for her.  

“Okay, Karen,” she says, drawing out the vowels and trying desperately not to roll her eyes at the lack of context. “I’m Jamie…?”

Karen’s shoulders have dropped from around her ears, the worry lines fading into her forehead now that she knows she’s in the right place, though the anxious energy surrounding her doesn’t completely dissipate.

There’s a spark in Karen at Jamie’s introduction, like her name means something.

And.

The familiarity is scratching at the base of her neck, that feeling where you know you should know something, but it’s an inch past your reach and you’re forced to scrabble aimlessly, trying to connect the dots. She knows , can place this stranger in the swirl that connects the two of them, but she just can’t name it.

Thankfully, the door is pushing open again before she can guess, this time bringing in the object of their conversation, windswept and harried as she nudges hair from her eyes with a wrist, arms laden with multicolored arrangements.

Dani looks beautiful like this, cheeks flushed from the cold, even with the scowl on her face.

Her afternoon has been filled with endless options and the sharp bite of a bridezilla who needs everything to be practically perfect and Jamie knows Dani can’t wait to let the long day soak away, curl up with Jamie and a strong cuppa — said as much before she left the sheets this morning.

She’s going to close up shop early tonight, she decides the second she sees the strain in Dani’s shoulders, and help release the tension in other ways.

They just need to get rid of Karen first.

“Oi, Poppins, there’s a lady here to see ya,” she barely gets out, before the woman is turning and Dani’s face is falling, hands grappling for purchase on her pots.

“Mom?”

And oh .

Shite.

They have the same eyes, Jamie realizes belatedly, and the aging woman in front of her clicks into place with the grainy childhood photos Dani has tucked away in their apartment.

Karen — Mrs. Clayton — steps forward, enveloping Dani in a clumsy hug around the planters clutched to her chest. Dani doesn’t move to put them down, and Jamie would think it’s all rather laughably awkward if Dani weren’t looking at her over her mother’s shoulder, mouth set and pleading.

“How did you — Why are you… here?” Dani asks like she doesn’t really want to know the answer and Jamie’s chest aches because she knows Dani is waiting for the other shoe to drop. Thinks her mother has come to convince her to move back yet again, or to make her feel bad about leaving in the first place all these years later.

Could never just be a trip to see her daughter.  

Jamie knows Dani has told Mrs. Clayton about her, on their sporadic calls throughout the years. Not about them necessarily, but that they work together, live together. Dani had never said they were just roommates, but her mother assumed and she never bothered to correct her.

Even still, it’s a warmth with which she is greeted by Dani’s mother that she wasn’t expecting, one that must have emerged in the years following Dani’s maturation if the look on her wife’s face is any indication.  

“I looked you up in the Yellow Pages!” Mrs. Clayton looks remarkably proud of herself, her palm still warm on Jamie’s forearm. “I figured not many flower shops have the same name in Vermont.”

Dani cringes and Jamie almost snorts, knows she’s regretting telling her mother the name of their store right about now.

Mrs. Clayton pushes forward, not even noticing the strained energy of the room.

“I’ll be here for a few days, in the inn down the road,” she beams. “I can’t believe it’s taken me so long to come out here!”

There’s a reason she hasn’t been invited. After years of bombarding Dani with questions of when she’s coming home, not willing to listen to the truth of she’s not, not now or ever, it seemed the pestering had suspiciously disappeared.

Now they know why.

Jamie clocks the quiet resignation that settles in the slope of Dani’s shoulders, but she thinks she sees a spark of eager excitement, smothered and tamped down, behind the solemnity.

Well. No way to avoid this now.

She’s hardly a religious person, but she sends up about ten Hail Marys in preparation for the evening, splayed long and endless, before her:

“You staying for dinner, then?”

---

Supper is maybe the worst thing Jamie’s ever sat through, and she had had to deal with Peter Quint for a good portion of her life.

She ruins the chicken and usually, Dani would grin, wide and teasing, before kissing her breathless against the stovetop.

This time, she sends an exasperated sigh towards the heavens and orders Chinese.

It’s stilted and uncomfortable and she finds herself constantly trying to stay afloat in this weird staring competition that Dani and her mother have got going on. Mrs. Clayton had already tried to mention Eddie, and Dani’s curt, “Don’t,” and the way her eyes flashed over the tableware had thankfully been enough to snap her mother’s mouth shut.

Dani had told her once, the hum of her words spilling into the dark warmth of their bedroom, that her mother had started truly caring about her too late, too removed. By the time she came around to the fact that she had a daughter worthy of time investment, Dani was past caring, had already learned to seek shelter in other, different people — too burned.

And now they’re here. At an impasse - mother and daughter who know nothing about each other, when it really comes down to it - who have spent decades tiptoeing around the mutual hurt and pain of being pushed to the side. Swept under the rug in favor of brief and surface level phone calls since Dani left for London.

Yet, Dani is so open, so achingly vulnerable always, in her emotions, that Jamie can see the longing drawn in the soft lines of her every time she hangs up the phone, sees the way Dani wants, violently, to tip headfirst into the notion that her mother means it this time around, right at the dinner table.

Jamie has been rough around the edges her whole life and she has never, ever been good with parents and, luckily, hasn’t had much opportunity in her life to make her impressions worse.

But this — Dani’s parent — feels important.

So she fills the space between by talking about hydrangeas, her favorite brand of manure composite, and whether she dabbles in vegetable growing. With each breath, she watches Dani breathe out of the corner of her eye, loosening in tune with the flow of Jamie’s brusque accent.

By the end of her blabbering, Dani is giggling at a particularly bad joke she makes and Mrs. Clayton eyes her daughter curiously across the tablecloth.

“Well, I would love a tour of your apartment, ladies,” Mrs. Clayton claps, and it jars Dani so much the table shakes when her knee jumps.

Her knee is the last of Jamie’s worries as she meets Dani’s wide eyes, because she totally forgot that they only have one bed, and how in the fuck are they supposed to just be roommates now?

Dani’s entire body has returned to rigid, fingers white-clenched on her chopsticks and Jamie longs to reach over, smooth her fingers over the groove of knuckle, kiss the promise sitting mercifully unnoticed on her ring finger.

Christ, this is so not how Jamie imagined the evening going.

“Sure,” Jamie yelps. “Why don’t you take a look around the living room while we clear up?”

She ignores Mrs. Clayton’s protestations and politely pushes her towards the record player in the corner as Dani fills the sink with warm, soapy water and they settle into a well worn routine; hip to hip against the counter, one washing and one drying.

“I’ll just be Bert the Chimney Sweep tonight, Poppins,” she murmurs, stroking a subtle hand down the length of Dani’s back when she’s sure Mrs. Clayton is distracted with the photographs on the wall.

Dani rolls her eyes.

“Bert was Mary Poppins’ love interest,” Dani whispers, but the corner of her mouth tilts up and she sags into Jamie’s touch for a moment.

“Allegedly,” she lobbies back, revelling in the grin she gets over the suds.

“I am serious, though,” Jamie continues, knocking Dani’s elbow gently with her own. “Just say I’m in the process of moving out or something and I’m crashing on the couch for a few days, that’s all.”

Jamie can see the moment that Dani decides, what she decides. Can read it plain as day on the face of the woman she loves more than life, in the curve of her lips and the set of her jaw.

“Are you sure?” They’re words from another time, another life, but Jamie means it just as much this time — would rather prioritize comfort, security, over rash decisions.

“I am always sure about you,” is the reply and Dani looks at her so softly, so carefully, that Jamie thinks she could cry, heart ricocheting against her ribcage.

---

She does it in the most Dani Clayton way possible.

“Mom, this is our bedroom,” Dani says, syllables burning quiet and destructive, nostrils flaring. “Where we sleep together.”

Jamie doesn’t know what she’s expecting, but it’s certainly not what happens.

Mrs. Clayton nods thoughtfully, brushing past the door frame to inspect the plant prints above the bed. She doesn’t speak for a long moment, fingertips running over the worn paperback on Jamie’s side table.

Finally clears her throat, thick and sticky.

“It’s a lovely apartment, Danielle.”

Dani’s mother glances up, meets their surprised faces, turns towards Jamie. “It seems like a lovely life you’ve built together.”

“You… Oh?” Dani manages, her calm belied by the tremble in her voice.

Jamie is frozen watching it all, the beauty of it unfolding in front of her with bated breath.

“I may not be a great mother, but I’m hardly an idiot,” Mrs. Clayton chides with no real malice.

At this, Dani’s eyes well up and she stumbles forward to sink onto the mattress, mouth opening and closing without a sound.

Jamie shoves her hands into the pockets of her jeans, suddenly feeling like she is intruding.  Wants to give the pair the time they so desperately need from each other.

“Tea, Mrs. Clayton?” Her voice sounds loud in the still acceptance and she thinks she says something about Dani being terrible at it but her ears are buzzing too loudly for her to be sure.

“Please, call me Karen,” Mrs. Clayton says for the umpteenth time, and Dani lets out a watery laugh and nods, fingers slipping over Jamie’s briefly in quiet reassurance. She will be okay by herself, and if she isn’t, she trusts Jamie to help her pick up the pieces.

She dips her head and excuses herself quietly, winking sweetly and reveling in the faint blush that pinks Dani’s cheeks.

The apartment is quiet for a while and if Jamie makes more noise than usual putting the kettle on to give them their privacy, then no one has to know.

The drinks have long gone cold by the time they emerge, raw and yawning in the waning candlelight. Mrs. Clayton bundles herself into her coat when she sees the time, clutching her daughter’s hands in her own, and Dani hugs her, actually hugs her, eyes red rimmed and gentle.

“I would love to see you both tomorrow,” Mrs. Clayton looks at Jamie with Dani’s cheekbones, Dani’s kindness, and smiles.

It feels like approval.

---

After, when the door is long shut behind her and Dani has flicked on the television, feet curling under Jamie’s thigh, they will breathe again.

“All good?”

Dani looks at her with those mismatched eyes and presses a kiss to her cheek, the corner of her mouth. Keeps peppering long soft pecks until Jamie has to lean forward to capture her in a proper kiss, lips slotting together easily, eagerly.

Thank God for those Hail Marys because this is definitely her heaven.

Jamie gets lost in it, has barely been able to kiss this woman all day. Can feel the tightness in her chest unwind when Dani sighs into her, pulls her close and vows not to let go, maybe not ever with the way Dani’s hand is winding around her neck. She makes a little noise in the back of her throat and Jamie cracks open, splintering into oblivion to settle within Dani’s bones.

When they finally separate, foreheads tipped together, lips swollen and hair mussed, delight is written in every curve of Dani’s body.

She is radiant.

“All good.”

[edie-k]

Cost Nothing (R/Hr, PG-13)

Title: Cost Nothing

Rating: PG-13 (mild sexual humor)

Pairing: Romione

Summary: "Compliments cost nothing, yet many pay dear for them." Thomas Fuller

When Harry and Ginny point out a shortcoming of Hermione's, she turns to Ron to set the record straight.

Notes: Thanks to accio-broom for the beta work and lovely feedback.

Happy birthday to Ron! To celebrate properly, I called upon the OG of the Ron Weasley Defense Squad, one Harry James Potter.

Link to AO3 or click below

“Hey,” said Ginny, flopping down on the blanket next to Hermione. 

“Oh, are you finished playing?” 

“Just a break. Get this - Percy sent an owl and said he, Charlie and George are coming back at 4 to play.”

“Wow, he’s really trying to make this up to you all,” said Hermione, impressed. She glanced up to see Ron and Harry walk towards her, brooms in hand. She used her bookmark to hold her place.  

Harry dropped his broom to the ground and laid down between the two of them. “Hermione, your cooling charms are just as great as your warming ones.” 

Ron stood in front of them. Hermione shielded her eyes from the sun as she looked up at him warmly. He smiled back and stuck his arm into the air above her blanket. “Bloody hell, that feels good.” 

“Come lay down,” said Hermione, patting the blanket next to her. 

“I won’t get up if I do. And I was thinking I should run up to the house and grab some drinks and snacks to bring back here?” 

“Ah, great idea, mate,” said Harry. 

“Cute and brilliant, what more could I ask for?” said Hermione with a smile

Ron flushed and gave her a grin. “I’ll be right back.” He walked up to the house. 

Hermione pulled out her wand to expand the blanket and cooling charm to give them a bit more space. As she was putting her wand to the side, she caught Harry looking at her with a bemused expression. “What?” 

“I am just not used to that yet,” said Harry. “Especially from you.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”  

“I’ve never heard you compliment him before. Certainly not on his looks,” said Harry. 

“Harry Potter! You know that I think Ron’s wonderful and always have.”

 “I’ve thought Ron was great for almost a decade now. I assumed that you did too. I’ve just never heard you say it.” 

“You’re joking!”

“To be fair to you, you were quite complimentary of his basilisk fangs idea during the battle, but I otherwise stand by my statement.” 

 “Ginny!” Hermione appealed to her friend that had been observing silently. “You’ve heard me compliment Ron before, right?” 

“To his face? Never. To others? Also never.” 

“Well, the two of you aren’t around us all the time,” said Hermione. 

“It’s true. There were dozens of minutes over the last year that I was away from you two,” said Harry.

Ginny laughed. “It’s fine, Hermione. You just don’t hand out compliments easily.”

“That’s not true,” said Harry, shaking his head. “You’ve said loads of nice things about me.”

“Did she?” asked Ginny, quirking an eyebrow. 

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Harry, I’d recommend not triggering that Weasley jealousy. You’re my best friend, and who else was going to bolster and build you up? It certainly wasn’t based on any personal interest I had. I was just passing along the gossip and giggling I’d hear in the loo.”

“And Ron Weasley, bastion of self-assuredness, was in no need of compliments,” said Ginny drily. “Especially when you’re showering Harry in them.”  

Hermione’s face darkened. “That’s quite rich coming from someone who compared Ron to his best friends just to embarrass him. I fancied him, and you expected me to tell him that Bridget Nichols wanted to quote, ‘climb him like a tree’? Besides, I seem to recall that he wasn’t lacking female attention at the time,” she sniffed. 

Harry sat up, looking nervous. “Uh, look, there’s no need for you and Ron to rehash sixth year.”

“Ron and I have already come to an appropriate understanding on that. What there’s really no need for is the two of you butting into our relationship.”

“You’re right,” said Harry. “We should-”

“It all checks out,” said Ginny, voice dripping with sarcasm. “You complimented Ron constantly, which gave him the confidence to never make a move.” 

“Oh, and what about him? It’s not like he was showering me in praise!”

“Well, he did -” Harry stopped his sentence short. “No. I’m sorry I brought any of this up; it was a careless joke.”

“Finish what you were going to say,” Ginny and Hermione demanded in unison. Hermione looked at Ginny, surprised by the synchronicity before glaring and looking back at Harry, who she could tell desperately regretted the whole conversation. 

Harry looked between the two and sighed. “All I was going to say was that Ron has told you how brilliant you are loads of times over the years.”

“Well, so has Professor Flitwick, but I didn’t think that meant he was trying to get in my knickers.”

“It’s Ron, though. He hardly ever misses an opportunity to put his foot in his mouth, yet I can still think of dozens of times he fawned all over you.” 

“Those aren’t exactly signals a boy gives you to say he’s attracted to you,” said Hermione. 

“No, I suppose not,” said Harry, laying back down. He looked as if he wanted to say more but was holding his tongue. 

“I think that what Harry said originally is true. Neither of you ever explicitly told us you liked the other, but we always knew Ron thought you were amazing. We had to assume that you thought Ron was too,” said Ginny, the edge now gone from her tone.

Hermione opened her mouth and then closed it. She knew they were wrong, but she just didn’t have the proof yet. 

They lay contemplating for a few minutes before Harry broke the tense silence. “Ugh, I’m still trying to decide what’s more disturbing - Flitwick trying to get in your knickers or Ron.”

“Ron doesn’t have to try,” Hermione cheeked. Ginny laughed, and Harry’s face contorted. 

“What don’t I have to try?” asked Ron. He had returned with a basket filled with cold butterbeers, crisps, biscuits, and a couple of apples, which he set next to Hermione as he eased himself down.  While the others stretched around to grab snacks, Hermione cringed as she noticed he looked uncomfortable to have discovered them discussing him. She decided to be straightforward. 

“To get into my knickers,” Hermione responded with a grin. His ears burned, but she saw a light in his eyes when he noticed Harry’s continued cringe. 

“Oh,” he said as he sat down next to her. “Are you actually wearing knickers today? That’s disappointing.”

Harry broke a biscuit and threw half at each of them. 

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

“Hey Hermione?”

“Yes?” It was well after dinner now, and the two of them were taking a walk as dusk began to settle in. The decision to take a walk was met with teasing from all of his brothers that left Hermione rolling her eyes. It was truly only a walk. After years of seeing only the downsides to his status as the youngest brother, he was finally reaping a benefit - his parents were turning a blind eye to the fact they were sharing a bed in a silenced and locked room so an uncomfortable roll in the orchard was unnecessary. 

“Yes?”

“Why were you talking about me getting in your knickers with Harry and Ginny?”

Hermione bit her lip while Ron continued on. 

“Don’t get me wrong. I would be comfortable taking out an ad in The Daily Prophet bragging about shagging you, and I’m sure they knew well before today. But as fun as it was to make him squirm, I thought we’d been trying to not make Harry uncomfortable.”

“He sort of brought it up.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. After you walked away, he mentioned it was odd to hear me call you cute.”

“And brilliant,” he said with a rakish grin. 

“Of course.”

“But how did that lead to your knickers?”

“Oh, it was infuriating. The reason he thought it strange was that he couldn’t remember me ever giving you any compliments.”

“Oh.”

“And I was telling him how silly that was.”

“Right.”

“Obviously, now that we’re together... I’ve been attracted to you for as long as I can remember, but it’s certainly easier to tell you now, don’t you think?”

“Uh, sure. I mean, previously I worried that telling you how gorgeous and sexy you are would get me slapped, and now I’m just curious which one of us ends up on our back.”

 “Stop,” she giggled. “But before we were together, I always told you how highly I thought of you.”

“Well, I don’t think you hand out unearned praise.”

 “Of course. But I’ve complimented you loads over the years. Right?”

Silence hung between them. 

“I love you?” Ron finally responded. 

“You agree with them?”

“I really love you?” said Ron. 

“You truly don’t think I ever complimented you?”

“You… tried once. When I got the prefect badge in 5th year,” he said. 

“The only reason I didn’t have anything was that I couldn’t think of a way to say it without hurting Harry’s feelings!”

“Really, love, don’t worry about it. You said things about my Quidditch performances as well. At least the good ones.”

“No! We.. we cleared the air on all this. Viktor, Lavender, the locket. Why didn’t you say anything then?”

“What would I say? You should have complimented me more? How self-involved would that sound? And now that we’re together, you do compliment me all the time. If I’d said something, maybe I’d question if you were being genuine or not now.”

Hermione was quiet. “I never realized that I wasn’t. It all ran through my head so much, but I guess I never… things would have been so different if I had.”

“We don’t know that.”

“Really?” she said with disbelief. 

“Yes, really. I won’t lie - compliments couldn’t possibly have hurt. But you basically asked me on a date, and my mind still couldn’t process that you wanted to be with me. And at that point in my life, the praise to Harry would have still bothered me, so the locket would have glommed onto that.”

“I would never have said-“

“Hermione! Listen to yourself! You didn’t do anything wrong telling Harry those things. His life was shit, and he’s your best friend. It’s not your fault I was an immature prat.”

“I was really just passing along what the girls were saying about him in the loo.”

Ron looked amused. “Is that how girls talk in the loo about boys?”

Hermione laughed. “I’m not even sure what I told you.”

“At the risk of reinforcing what an insecure git I am, you mentioned how tall and fanciable he was and went into all of the Chosen One and Ministry persecution stuff,” Ron said. “I’m just saying that is not how we talked about girls in our dorm.” 

“Ah, yes, I did clean it up a bit, but they did at least talk about Harry with a bit of reverence and respect as opposed to treating him like a  piece of meat as they did with you. But I’m interested in how the boys discuss girls.”

Ron winced. “Sorry, I never even thought about what she might say that you’d have to hear.” 

“No, that was a whole different set of issues. These were other girls.” 

Ron stopped. “Other girls? What did - nevermind, it uh, doesn’t matter.” 

Hermione was surprised to find that his aborted question hadn’t even bothered her. “I won’t tell you everything, but I did already tell Harry… Bridget Nichols said she wanted to climb you like a tree and -” 

“What?!” 

“Yes,” she laughed. “And you remember Tori Daylon?” 

“She was that short little thing, right?” 

“She thought she was the perfect height to make you very happy.” 

“Merlin, you girls are just as bawdy as us,” Ron laughed. 

“We have hormones too.” 

“You never said anything about me, did you?” he asked. Hermione shook her head. “But what type of review am I going to get in the bathroom this year from you?” 

“You’re incorrigible,” she laughed.

“Is that a compliment?” 

“Absolutely.”