#and because of it he's been made to carry so much resignation and sadness simply by remembering a little bit of who he was

[mobius-m-mobius]

Most purpose is more burden than glory. And trust me, you never wanna be the guy who avoids it ’cause you can’t live with the burden.

LOKI APPRECIATION WEEK 2023 | for @dailyloki Day 6 : Favorite Quote

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

after reading the ending and seeing the meltdown on twitter over the mistranslation before the official chapter it's just kind of annoyed me how people view gojo as some perpetually insecure, self deprecating dude when he was never that.

Ofc geto's defection fucked him over and that loss of a valuable bond was the guiding force behind a lot of choices he made in life but he was always, always fond of jujutsu itself, it's the orthodox structure and lone burden on his shoulders he disliked.

Even nanami clocked him for that in 236. That he enjoyed the thrill of sorcery. I hate satoru's uwufication (and don't get me wrong he's very much my cutie patootie) but to view his complexities as just insecurities is such a narrow view.

It's also why it didn't really surprise me when he "went south" in 236. So many people called his confession in that chapter ooc but in my opinion that raw vulnerability was so intriguing and on brand for him lol. Loving the fight, not being able to hate sukuna, trying to reach him through his skills, admitting the distance he created with others because the gap was just that big, and choosing to stay in the blue spring this time because that period was the most blissful time of his life..it's the first time he chose himself and chose life as Satoru and not just as the strongest.

And to see this same effect happen during the leak mistranslation with so many gojo stans babying him again and it was so..like bro 😭 are we sure we read the same content

THIS . THIS . THIIIIIIIS

anon thank you for putting this into words bc i have been struggling to do the same 💀 but i absolutely agree!!! i also have a big issue with people viewing him as insecure or sad because i truly think gojo was fully comfortable in his own isolation . he’s never pitied himself, and that makes him more tragic, not less. the mistranslation thing in 271 with ’i also have love and dreams’ just made me sigh because that’s just something gojo wouldn’t say 😭…. obviously he has dreams and he has love but he’d never frame that sentence in such a self-pitying way — he’s only telling yuji to carry on his dream if he dies. that’s all.

i can’t explain it super well but to me the greatest tragedy of gojo’s character is that he so rarely gets upset over his own situation — he’s been used and abused in plenty of ways but i don’t think he actually minds, because that’s all he knows. he’s staggeringly mature and resigned and that’s an aspect of his character i think isn’t talked about enough. he even finds joy in his own situation, through fighting and teaching, despite how much weight he has to carry. how overworked he is. ’one must imagine sisyphus happy’ applies really well to gojo, i think…….

and that’s why a lot of fandom takes just . irk me 😭 the truth is that gojo probably wouldn’t mind having his body used after death. and like he himself says in 271 — he doesn’t mind if people forget him. that’s just the kind of guy he is. he’s tragic in the sense that he goes with the flow and accepts the reality of his own existence without wishing for anything different. i think he did have hope that he wouldn’t have to be alone when he was with suguru, but after his defection that hope disappeared. suguru’s importance to satoru is one thing i don’t think anyone can ignore, but i don’t think he turned into some kind of empty shell after he left, either — suguru was simply the end of satoru seeking out meaningful, equal human connection.

…… until sukuna :3c

which!!! for the record!!!!!! i 100% agree with you on. 236 is one of my favorite chapters and i will literally fight the ooc allegations until the day i die bc i don’t think they understand gojo 💀 sorry to say. him finding value in fighting someone like sukuna makes all the sense in the world considering he’s the closest thing satoru has gotten to being on truly equal grounds with someone. and the fact that satoru wanted to teach sukuna about love speaks volumes about his character, how much he detests the isolation of strength. satoru isn’t a saint, but he’s a good guy with very particular motivations. and him finding peace in the bliss of his youth, right after being referred to as ’satoru gojo’ by sukuna …….. must have felt soooo liberating. criticisms about the aftermath of his death aside, i do think this was the happiest ending for someone like gojo.

i will say that nanami’s comment in 236 is often misunderstood as well — he’s specifically talking about teen gojo, not adult gojo. adult gojo fights for plenty of things, not just the thrill — but obviously he still enjoys that even now. i think a lot of people make the mistake of either viewing gojo as some morally corrupt fight loving feral maniac (which is just plain wrong), or viewing him as this sad, sad man who never wanted to fight (which is also plain wrong)…. he’s a deeply tragic character with a lot of kindness in his heart, and even at the very end i don’t think he was truly sad over his own circumstances.

i hope . that was semi-coherent ;;; sorry for just hijacking your ask anon but this was a good opportunity for me to talk about some things that have been bugging me for a while 😭 gojo is a wonderfully written character and i don’t think he was ooc even in 271 (though the talk with yuji felt sloppy to me in execution), i just wish his death had been handled as well as it deserved to be ….

[hoppipolla]

Khatha or the well of sadness

Thanapob Leeratanakachorn... We barely know anything about Khatha but Tor puts up such a brilliant and emotional performance that you feel for Khatha before understanding the very depths of his being.

Tor shows a full understanding of his character and his emotive and subtle acting makes my heart ache for Khatha.

When Khatha describes death, he describes it as "simply painful and excruciatingly torturing". It doesn't matter how many times he has "died" because nothing will ever compare to the agony he is living now. Khatha is the embodiment of resolute despair. He knows he cannot escape it and so he suffers silently. The silence he chose as an answer to Triphop's grand-father's question — "So why don't you stop?" — emphasises the fact that he has accepted his fate. He seems to be haunted by guilt and so he accepts the agonising truth of his life because, deep down, he thinks he deserves it. (cf. the way he doesn't meet Dome's eyes when Dome asks him if he has done something wrong).

His weariness can be seen through the way he lets his tears fall on his cheeks. His tears are as silent as his stifled pain. Khatha often looks on the verge of tears which makes me think that we've only seen a glimpse of the despair he must feel. It just hurts so much... seeing him show restraint although the emotions he strives to hide are overwhelming.

He doesn't want to show he cares for Dome nor does he want anyone to see how devastated he feels when another life is ruined in front of his eyes.

This expression is that of someone who's seen death more than life, who's been powerless too many times, who knows the bitterness and cruelty of the universe.

Khatha is an intimidating character and yet the people around him see the cracks in his shell. That's why Dome talks back to him so easily although he sometimes looks at him with a mix of wonder and worry. The same goes for June and Triphop who always listen to him but usually still tell him what they're thinking. Khatha is scary because of the depths of his despair. The way Triphop seems so loyal to him no matter his recklessness is because he knows his immortality made him go through things a simple mortal would have never endured. And yet Khatha was a simple mortal at some point too.

June was right to call Khatha's immortality a curse because that is precisely how Khatha sees it himself. He feels like he is all alone and that's why he desperatly wants to protect Dome. Because Dome seems to embody the very light which could bring the sun back to the never-ending night that is his life. But June doesn't agree with that and she might be right. Perhaps only Khatha can break his curse but I believe that Dome will be the one who'll give him the strength he needs to do so. I hope for Dome to become someone Khatha can lean on when his weariness and suffering are too heavy a burden to carry alone.

What kills me is how resigned he looks in this scene. A part of him still wants to fight and that's why he's been watching Dome so closely because Dome's presence by his side embodies the kind of hope he's been secretly wishing to find, but another part of him seems to believe that everything is worthless. And yet he still manages the Midnight Museum. He still keeps a close watch on the cursed items his museum displays. Half of him hopes fiercely while the other half wonders how he is able to keep on fighting like that.

Khatha is a character so full of sadness that I don't even need to know his backstory to feel emotionally invested. I'm just so impressed by Tor's brilliant acting.

[cosmicjoke]

After yesterday’s episode I had to re-read your meta about “Hange’s sacrifice and the culmination of Levi’s loss and grief” just to hurt myself again haha. Man, I won’t deny it, I do ship those two, but is their deep bond and understanding of each other and just their friendship what I really love. So, seeing them say goodbye was hard for me. Seeing Hange’s scared expression and the way Levi looked in that plane…and the way he said See you, Hange…I mean, Hange is my favorite character, so I was already crying seeing her fighting, but was the last goodbye of Levi and the soundtrack at the back that made cry like a bitch lmao. I can’t stop thinking about Hange, the way they animated Hange getting burn was so raw, but I’m glad they animate their death with such Bang like she would want. They truly made Hange looked like a hero, so I’m grateful for that. Bauklotze is on repeat since yesterday and Levi at the plane represents the state I was on watching the episode after Hange’s sacrifice haha. Anyways, I really enjoy reading your metas and I hope the last episode don’t disappoint :)

Thank you so much! I'm right there with you, with how much this episode hurt, and seeing Hange go out the way they did, with so much heroism and commitment and courage. That's the thing, Hange was so courageous in the end. They knew they were going to die, and they were scared, but they didn't let that stop them. And I was in awe of how they animated their death too, the brutal and raw nature of it, it must have been so unbelievably painful. And yes, Levi's resignation and sadness and grief was on full display. His expression on the plane was simply heartbreaking, and I can't even fully grasp the kind of pain he had to have been in, being unable to help or save his best friend. They truly did have such a deep and meaningful bond. Whether you ship them or not, that can't be denied. Hange dying like that was Levi losing his last person, in a way, the last person he was close to, and it's kind of the curse he always has had to carry. Being the strongest, he always somehow survives, while everyone he loves and cares about seems to die, despite all his efforts to protect them. Every loss effects Levi on such a deep level, and Levi's broken expression is him finally reaching his threshold of what he can take. It's just too much at this point. Which makes it all the more remarkable that he was able to carry on and keep fighting, despite it all, despite his own physical and mental anguish. Well, there's a reason Levi and Hange both are generally seen as the most heroic characters in AoT. Because they are.

I'm sure, given the incredible quality on display from MAPPA up to this point, that there's nothing to worry about with the final part airing in the fall. It's going to be so incredibly emotional.

Thank you again!

[primatechnosynthpop]

If You Push Them Too Hard, They're Going To Break

Part 6

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5]

It wasn't all bad immediately. They carried on with their lives as best they could, writing songs by day and fighting witches by night. Bret took on as many sign holding shifts as he could convince Eddie to give him-- even the really strenuous or embarrassing ones-- so they could pay their rent. Jemaine breifly considered resorting to sex work again but decided not to risk it. They looked through the phone book in search of a new manager but came up empty. A few times they tried busking on street corners, and a couple people tossed coins at their feet, so that was something.

But sooner or later they were always going to fight a few witches in a row that were too much for them. Sooner or later they were always going to run out of magic. It was simply the life cycle of a magical girl.

Jemaine lay on his back in an alleyway as a labyrinth dissolved, staring up at the sky. It was sunset, but you could hardly tell with these gray New York skies. The sky in the labyrinth was the same colour as the blood he could taste at the back of his mouth, which was at least somewhat closer to the colours of the sunsets he remembered seeing in New Zealand. Longing seized his already aching chest. What he wouldn't give to be there now. The place he grew up, his home country... he wanted to be in a pasture there, tending sheep with Bret, playing music just for fun and not having to worry about success or failure.

"Je...maine?"

He turned his head. It was one of few movements he had the strength to make. His glasses were cracked and knocked askew, but he could make out Bret a couple feet away, equally battered as Jemaine and dragging himself across the ground toward him.

"Bret," he croaked out. "What're you doing?"

"Did you get a grief seed?"

He shook his head, grimacing as he did so at the effort it took. "It didn't drop one. I think it was just an overgrown familiar."

Bret gave a sad but resigned murmur in response. That's what he had thought. He'd hoped Jemaine would say otherwise, because they ran out of grief seeds a long time ago and their soul gems looked like food that had been in the back of the fridge too long and gotten moldy. Thinking of mold reminded Bret of how long it had been since he tended to his mold farm, and a wave of guilt squeezed his chest. He wanted to go home and look after his mold farm. He wanted to help Jemaine with the new song he'd been trying to write. He wanted a lot of things, now that he thought about it, and there were a lot of wishes he could have made if Kyubey offered refunds.

Instead, looking at the colour his partner's soul gem pulsed between the petals of his flower accessory, Bret knew he had to do something he really didn't want to do at all.

"Can I see your soul gem, Jemaine?"

Jemaine made a questioning sound. "Do... you have a grief seed, Bret?"

Bret's heart twisted at how hopeful he sounded. He pursed his lips and didn't answer. Balancing himself upright on his elbow, he held out his other hand palm-up.

"Please, Jemaine. Your soul gem."

"Ugh, fine," Jemaine muttered. He didn't question why. Maybe he was just too tired to think about it.

He raised his arm with a grunt of effort, and his hand flopped against Bret's. A moment later, in a delayed reaction, he detransformed and his soul gem manifested between their cupped hands. Bret curled his fingers around it and took a deep breath.

Spent just from that simple action, Jemaine lay back and closed his eyes, letting his head loll to the side. He needed a nap. The world had been getting on his nerves lately. Maybe he could curse it and fill everyone with torment and despair. That'd serve them right.

Something struck against him and he jerked, crying out in pain. He heard Bret draw in a sharp breath. Jemaine's eyes snapped open and to his bandmate holding his soul gem in one hand, other hand holding an arrow raised above it. Just as the cogs in his mind were turning, Bret spared him the trouble of piecing it together by once again jabbing the arrow into his soul gem.

"Agh! Bret, what are you doing?"

"I'm sorry, Jemaine." Bret's brow was furrowed, lips pulled back in a grimace, and his eyes glistened. The frame of his slender body shook with the visible effort of holding himself upright and raising the arrow to strike again. "I'd have to do this either way if you turned into a witch. This way just... saves me a lot of hassle."

Jemaine couldn't quite wrap his head around this. "You're trying to kill me."

"Sorry," Bret said again, and to his credit he sounded like he meant it. "You don't want to become a witch, do you?"

"Not really..." Jemaine's gaze strayed down to the soul gem at Bret's waist. It was nearly as dark as his own, and quickly catching up with every second Bret held that arrow above Jemaine's soul gem. "Do you?"

Bret vehemently shook his head even as he sniffed and tried in vain to blink back tears. "No, man. It'd be awful. I'd kill people, and maybe animals too, and they wouldn't have done anything wrong... I'd hate it."

Jemaine struggled to sit up and raised a shaky hand to point at Bret's soul gem. "Your soul gem's as bad as mine. You're going to become a witch."

"I'm not going to become a witch."

"You are. And if you've already killed me, who's going to stop you?" He paused, a thought occurring to him that made him gulp. "Could you break your own soul gem?"

Bret wasn't sure he could. The prospect filled him with a sense of cold fear, almost worse than the idea of becoming a witch. Unconsciously he detransformed, tattered magical girl outfit dissolving back into a comfy sweater with no tears or stains, although the bruises and dried streaks of blood on his body remained.

"We could become witches together," Jemaine suggested. "That might not be so bad."

"No, no, we can't..." Bret kept shaking his head, but his conviction was slipping. He couldn't kill Jemaine or himself (almost the same thing, really) with his own hands. He just couldn't. "We're supposed to protect people."

"I'm tired of people. They get on my nerves."

"But..."

A sudden wave of pain seized Bret's body and he doubled over, breaking off into a strangled yelp. While he wrapped his hands around his waist and struggled to breathe, he saw in the corner of his eye that Jemaine's face was contorted in a grimace. He must have been hurting just as badly. When the spike of agony ebbed out into a dull ache and he could move again, Bret couldn't pretend to be brave or noble anymore. With all the strength left in him, he flung himself into Jemaine's arms. Jemaine coughed-- the impact knocked the air out of him-- but was quick to bring his arms around Bret and return his desperate embrace while he still had enough control of his body left to do so.

"I'm glad we got to be magical girls together." By the time Bret realized he hadn't said magical men, he didn't care enough to correct himself. There were more important things to say. "You've always been my best friend."

Jemaine couldn't say he was glad they'd been magical girls, because he hadn't enjoyed it much-- though it would have been worse if Bret weren't there with him. Instead he elected to be pedantic. "Well, not technically always..."

"Right, yeah, I guess not before we met. But since we've known each other."

"Mmn, yes. Since we became best friends, you've been my best friend too."

They didn't say anything else after that. They just lay there holding each other as the sun went down, until a final spasm wracked their bodies and the now-dark alley echoed with the sound of two gems shattering in unison.

*

Dave was a lot of things (maybe not exactly the things he claimed to be, but still) but one thing he definitely wasn't was a creep. Anyone not old enough to drink wasn't on his radar. So when a gaggle of high schoolers who must have snuck in with fake IDs came flouncing over to the corner of the bar where he was leaning against a wall trying to look lonely, and clustered around in a circle barely a foot away from him, he just rolled his eyes into his beer can and didn't spare them another glance.

That was until he heard them talking.

"You know how Kyubey always talks about hope and despair balancing to zero?"

"Sure."

"Huh? No, I've never heard him anything say anything like that."

"Well, I think I found an example. Remember how I was saying that none of the witches I fought were dropping grief seeds these days?"

"Yeah...?"

"Okay, so, today I got a two-for-one. Two witches in the same labyrinth. And they were weak, too, so I got double the grief seeds with basically no effort."

Dave wasn't really listening to the first bit, but when the girl mentioned witches a second time, it registered: Hey, weren't "witches" part of the magical girl bullshit those kiwi assholes were on about? Intrigued now, he lowered his drink from his lips and turned to observe the girls. One of them was holding up a couple little trinkets, and they looked different than those soul gem things, but also kind of similar? It was hard to tell in the lighting, but they were around the same size and shape from what Dave could remember.

"You guys should have been there," she was saying. "The labyrinth was totally crazy. First there was this part that was like a kitchen, and then it turned into a clothing store, and then there was a bit with a phone and then a movie theater..."

"Hey," Dave interjected, stepping off from the wall and butting into their circle. The girls each took a step back, one of them wrinkling her nose and another raising her eyebrows while the one who'd been talking tilted her head. "When you were fighting these 'witches'--" He put finger quotes around the term, because just saying it out loud made him sound like a fucking dweeb, like he was talking about larpers or some shit-- "Did you see a couple Finnish guys in clothes from the seventies? Uh, one of them has glasses that make him look stupid and the other's kinda small. You see anyone like that?"

The girls exchanged a look. The one holding the black seed-shaped things (what did she call them, grief seeds?) gave a hesitant shake of her head.

"If friends of yours were last seen around a witch's labyrinth and you haven't seen them since," one of the other girls said slowly, staring at her sparkly high heels and figdeting with a lock of hair, "Then... well, I'm sorry..."

The third girl elbowed her and hissed, "Don't just say things like that! This guy won't know what a witch labyrinth is." Then, turning to Dave with an apologetic grimace: "But yeah, I'm sorry. Whoever you're looking for..."

"Hey, it's chill," he said, holding up his hands palms-out. "It's no big deal. I was just asking 'cause, uh..."

His gaze strayed back to the grief seeds in the magical girl's hand. They each had these little symbols at the top, and he didn't know what one of them was supposed to be, but the other he recognized from Bret's soul gem. Dave's stomach turned. He didn't know what any of this meant, but goddamn, he did not have a good feeling right now.

"Hey, take care of yourselves, alright?" he said as he began to back away. He wasn't really expecting to dish out life advice, but the words jumped out almost on impulse. "Don't do anything crazy. You've all got long lives ahead of you, y'know? Just... fuckin', chill, man. Be safe."

The girl with the grief seeds stared at him for a moment while her two friends leaned over to whisper to each other. He thought she was actually taking in his words until she turned away with a huff and said, "I can take care of myself."

In his bedroom later that night, or more accurately early morning when gray dawn light was slipping through the blinds, Dave heard a soft thud from just outside his window. When he went to check if a bird had flown into the glass, he instead found some sort of weird cat thing sitting on the windowsill.

"Jesus christ," he blurted, breaking the moody silence that permeated the room. "What the hell are you?"

<I'm known as Kyubey,> the creature said. <Dave Mohumbhai, are you concerned over the fate of your friends?>

"I mean, I guess?" he said with a shrug. "But if those Norwegian idiots bite the dust, they've got it coming." He paused, taking in the eerie gleam of Kyubey's eyes against the backdrop of the gloomy cityscape. "...Are they okay or what?"

<Jemaine Clemaine and Bret McClegnie have ceased to exist as living humans.> The little red-eyed freak didn't even give him a second to process that before it went on. <However, if you so choose, you could undo this by making a contract with me.>

Dave's hands clenched tight around the windowsill. The word contract triggered a memory-- Jemaine and Bret had mentioned meeting an alien, right? This must have been it. Not what he thought an alien would look like, but hey... and here it was offering him a contract so he could be magical too.

"What, so I can fight a bunch of witches or whatever the fuck and then turn into one myself?" he scoffed. Then, rising into a tone typically reserved for customers who tried to pawn literal garbage off on him, "So I can go missing and never be heard from again? No fucking thanks!"

Kyubey didn't flinch at the outburst. Its tail flicked idly from side to side. <It was merely an offer.>

"Yeah, well, consider your shitty-ass offer rejected!"

He punctuated that by slamming the window shut and drawing the blinds. As soon as the fucked up cat thing was out of his sight, the information it had relayed so casually caught up to him in a rush that felt like taking a dozen paintballs to the chest. He staggered to his bed and flopped backwards onto it to stare at the ceiling, mind reeling. Jemaine and Bret didn't "exist as living humans"? That meant they were dead, right? He'd figured they wouldn't last long, but, shit... that meant he'd never see them again.

Dave reached up and tugged off his bandana. It was the red one with the white patterning. He had a pretty impressive collection if he dared say so himself, but this one was always his favourite. He let the cloth unfurl in his hands and traced over the familiar patterns with his eyes until the ache in his chest grew tight enough to draw a strangled hiccup from his throat. It was the closest a guy like him could get to crying even in the privacy of his own bedroom.

Shanti...

He curled up without getting under the covers, hugging the ribbon tight to his chest, until he fell into a restless sleep. Kyubey didn't come back to bother him again.

{--End--}

[poisonouswritings]

hiii so I have been thinking about this a lot, what would the reaction of M3 ( + whoever you want tbh, if you decide to add more ) be if they learn what MC had a pet on Earth with the exact same name as LIs ( or not only LIs ) and that pet also acts like them a lot? The pet was named before meeting LIs I mean, so its not named after them. so like how would MC introduce their pet to their LI? how would they live together?

what made me think about it is the fact that I got my cat before I knew about last legacy. cats name is Felix and after I thought about it he does act similar to the LL Felix (my love i miss him so much where is he). except all the reading and talking of course, my cat can't do that, unfortunately or not. "Felix, meet Felix. And Felix, meet Felix". that sounds silly but it is definitely what I would say.

also one of my online friends has a hamster named sage and they don't know about LL so that has been on my mind even more because. it is funny. sage the catman and sage the hamster (tiny).

sadly, no anisas were found by me...

I'd appreciate it if kept the cat as a pet for MC whos LI is Felix if you fid this request but its not necessary!

this is kind of a lot, sorry for rambling. hope you have a great day!

Man I've had this in my inbox for ages I am so sorry but I'm doing it now so there's that

Felix Escellun

Since Felix has had Stella (and to a lesser extent, Sage), he's already used to dealing with cats and stray fur.

Maybe your cat can't read, but he can certainly lounge around on Felix's lap, tangled up in the blankets, snoozing as Felix reads his romance novels out loud. Sometimes you'll be in the other room and hear him taper off and kinda go 'oh... Ooooh....' and then you hear your cat start meowing and Felix going 'No I absolutely cannot read this out loud!! You shall simply have to experience it for yourself later. I assure you it shall be well worth the wait' and then your cat kinda gives this resigned purr and you're just dying

You can also find them sleeping on the couch together, human Felix laying on his stomach and snoring and cat Felix laying on human Felix's butt and snoring

Cat Felix trying to find birds for Fe to taxidermy? Watching Felix go about his work? Perhaps has a little pile of dead bugs?

Anisa Anka

Let's say you have.. a... rat!

Anisa watches Ratatouille and becomes convinced your rat can cook... tries to let Rat!Annie help her make food by picking spices. It doesn't go well. Please have a fire extinguisher on hand.

Absolutely loves building mazes for your rat. Doesn't give her too many treats but usually has an extra one or two in her pocket. Speaking of, loves carrying your rat in her pocket. Sometimes Anisa sets up an obstacle course for herself alongside the rat one and they race. Winner gets a kiss from you and also a snacc

You know how when you tickle rats they can actually laugh? Anisa is fascinated. Rat!Annie squeaks up a storm. And when you tickle Anisa her fur goes all poofy and she also starts squealing.

Sage Lesath

While having a hamster would be funny, I'm gonna say you have a dog. But like a pomeranian so it's this little white ball of fluff.

Both very cuddly,,, both very loud,,,,, both very easily distracted by birds,,,,

Your dog is nosing you for attention so you lean down and you're like 'Awww Sage!! Who's my good little boy?' and Sage just appears out of nowhere to bop his head against your arm because He Wants Headpats Too >:(

Actually that happens a lot. You're combing Cat!Sage's hair and your dog comes over and starts barking because He Needs To Be Groomed Right This Second ! ! ! The two are constantly vying for your attention. Will growl/snap at each other sometimes. You can keep them in control with a few stern words. Then they both do the sad eyes/whimper thing. Puppies. Dorks.

Go to the park,,, play fetch,,,, they both go running off after the frisbee,,,,,

Both insist on sleeping in your bed. Your dog will frequently try to crawl in between you two to get ultimate cuddles.

Sage would try dog food, probably. Just out of curiosity. He ends up liking it.

[a-libra-writes]

GoT Imagines - When You're Engaged to Someone Else

Woooo this is a doozy and I'm including new characters, mostly book ones! because i both love my followers and have lost my marbles.

In this preference, you'll be pining with: Ned Stark, Robb Stark, Sansa Stark, Jon Snow, Benjen Stark, Jory Cassel, Mance Rayder, Eddison Tollett, Pre-Reek!Theon, Yara Greyjoy, Victarion Greyjoy, Daenerys Targaryen, Jorah Mormont, Missandei, Grey Worm, Tywin Lannister, Tyrion Lannister, Jaime Lannister, Cersei Lannister, Sandor Clegane, Bronn, Jaquen H’Ghar, Petyr Baelish, Robert Baratheon, Stannis Baratheon, Davos Seaworth, Margaery Tyrell, Brynden Tully, Edmure Tully, Brienne of Tarth, Ramsay Bolton, Roose Bolton, Oberyn Martell, Doran Martell, Arianne Martell, Tyene Sand

Ned Stark

He’s already an expert in suffering in silence, so this should be no different. Although he’s very surprised at the sudden arrangement, and while he isn’t a man to throw his rank around… He wonders if he can’t convince your family to reconsider. If it’s simply impossible, Ned would resign himself to having to stop the relationship. He’s too honorable to ever consider an affair and he’s not a man to start a duel or cause trouble, especially since it would negatively affect your reputation. The heavy combination of missing you, pining after you all over again and feeling like he didn’t do enough is hard. Some days he entertains the idea of still having a friendship, but it doesn’t seem like a good idea. He doesn’t trust himself.

Robb Stark

The young wolf tries to accept it, even if his feelings become more and more angry each day. Robb never threw his name around, but… he was going to be Lord Stark. Wasn't that good enough for your family? For you? He tries to be the bigger man, but if you're miserable with your spouse and they don't treat you well, he can't keep his temper in check. Expect him to have a sudden outburst at a feast and cause a scene. The only thinking keeping him from an outright duel are his parents and his worry about your reputation. But if he was pushed to it….

Sansa Stark

She should've known this would happen. It's the fate of all ladies, yet there's a bitterness that tugs at her when she hears the news. Sansa tries to bury her feelings around others, but she's never done that with you. She expresses her disappointment and sorrow, and swears she'll help if your spouse turns out to be awful. She doesn't want them to be, but she doesn't want you beginning to prefer their company, either. She wonders if her affection for you would wane if she just pined from afar and tried to keep her feelings to herself.

Jon Snow

Ah yes, once again his bastardry is hitting him straight in the gut. Jon knew it was going to happen eventually, he already felt like the relationship was on a timer, and now it’s finally ended. He’s convinced there’s no getting out of it, because even if you did - you’d never be able to be with him in the open. It makes Jon glad he’s going to the Wall; hopefully the distance and cold will dull his feelings. In spite of that, sometimes he’ll tell Sam about you, and he speaks so mournfully it makes Sam think that distance hasn’t done all that much to help Jon’s pining.

Benjen Stark

He should be the bigger person and accept that this is for the best. He’s sworn to the Wall, and you two shouldn’t have been sneaking around. He should be relieved neither of you were caught. None of these thoughts are comforting. Ben tries to cope by making not-so-joking jokes about you running off to the Wall too, or perhaps he should take Yoren’s job and find his way to your court once in a blue moon. Then there’s no joking, and it’s just bitterness. He removes himself from your life after that, not wanting to hurt you with his own negative thoughts. He’d rather you keep the happy memories.

Jory Cassel

He accepts it, not that it brings him any pleasure. Jory's always been proud of his service to the Starks, but he's long understood that his landed seat is not a valuable one. Whenever he married, if he did, it wouldn't be someone as lovely as you. The announcement still hits him in the gut and he dejectedly tries to break it off (though it's easier on him if you do it). If he was in charge of guarding you, he'd switch shifts immediately and begin avoiding you, thinking it'll make things easier.

Eddison Tollett

This relationship already seemed too good to be true, so it’s abrupt end is not surprising. He’s sworn to the Wall and you both were sneaking around to begin with, so this should have been expected, but… it just makes him feel even more tired and dumb. Sam and Jon notice how little he sleeps and that he’s begun to skip meals, and he doesn’t have to explain why. They can do the math. Edd at least doesn’t try to bury any sad feelings or memories. It’s too exhausting to actively try, and it’s something to keep him company while he works. Maybe the feelings will fade… eventually.

Mance Rayder

It's one more reason for him to leave the "South" and go past the Wall. He knew a proper relationship with you wasn't possible because of his vows, but watching you go through this sham of an arranged marriage is just depressing. He'll comfort you best he can until he has to go back to the Wall, though he won't make promises he can't keep. Having to separate from you weighs heavy on him for a long time, and is one of many reasons he abandons the Watch.

Theon Greyjoy

What the hell is this? Hearing the news ruins his whole day, worse if he wasn’t able to hear it directly from you. He’s the heir to the Iron Islands, and his interest in you was clear as day! No, he hadn’t proposed yet… but he was getting to it! Now some mainlander beat him to it? Theon is absolutely seething. He’d prefer to duel your spouse to teach them a lesson in front of everyone, but he’s open to more boring methods like reasoning with your family. If he wasn’t able to change the engagement, he’d be bitter, and more than willing to carry on an affair behind your spouse’s back. He ought to just go the Ironborn route and kidnap you for himself.

Asha (Yara) Greyjoy

When you give her the news and you’re clearly distraught about it, Yara considers carrying you off to her ship right there. If you’re non-Ironborn, you’ll be her saltwife -- and if you’re Ironborn, she wants to have a discussion with whoever the hell planned this when everyone KNOWS you belong with her. You hadn’t expected this possessive behavior, but now you know Yara’s willing to fight for you as soon as someone takes you. No surprise, she’s more than willing to sneak around with you behind your husband’s back - maybe she can goad him into a duel. That would certainly solve a problem, wouldn’t it?

Victarion Greyjoy

He doesn’t understand at first. Victarion had made it clear that you were his, hadn’t everyone known that? No, he never made any sort of formal marriage, but not because he didn’t care. He felt like there was no need, hadn’t everyone known? If your family and spouse are Ironborn, he’ll immediately sail to their keep and raise all seven hells, and marry you right there in front of them. If you were sent away to the green lands, it would take the combined power of Balon, Yara and Aeron to keep him from sailing off immediately and just kidnapping you - preferably after killing your spouse. Victarion is pissed. Someone is going to pay for this.

Daenerys Targaryen

She’s just as mad at you as she is with whoever arranged this ridiculous match. Daenerys doesn’t often entertain arrogant thoughts, but… How could anyone think to match you with someone else, knowing your relationship with her? She feels she ought to be offended, though Daenerys knows this is hard on you as well, and you didn’t ask for it. She’ll think of some clever way to get you out of the arrangement, no way is this person getting away from stealing from her. And yes, that might as well be what it is! While she’s working out what to do, if she so much as hears murmurs of the possibility of your spouse hurting you… all bets are off. She’s taking you back with her, alliance be damned.

Jorah Mormont

The announcement of your engagement is a punch to his gut and a shock to his system. Jorah knew he wasn’t the best husband material, but he was planning to ask for your hand himself - then this happened. What’s worse, he knows as far as practical marriage goes, he has little to offer. He goes into a bit of a panic as he tries to think of what to do. There’s sensible choices, like trying to talk to your family with you. Then there’s not so sensible ones… Maybe running off, maybe just continuing the relationship behind your new spouse’s back, maybe dueling them… While Jorah is in emotional turmoil, he’d do anything for you. Even if you wanted to break off the relationship… or had a plan for him to follow. He’s nothing if not hopelessly devoted.

Missandei

… Oh. Maybe she shouldn’t have expected you to stick around for so long. As close as she is to Daenerys, she really has no fancy titles or things to offer. She understood why your family chose the match, it was a good one, politically speaking… but that does little to soothe her. Quite the opposite, a strong, desolate feeling overcomes her, one she hasn’t felt in a long time. She isn’t sure what to do, if it’s her place to stop the process. Perhaps if you asked her, she could try to make plans. Daenerys would help as well, considering how fond she is of you two, and how much she despises women being forced into arrangements.

Grey Worm

The sudden news takes him off guard, and sends him into a bit of an existential crisis. He was starting to see himself as a person, with his own name and a path he chose to follow… then this arrangement happens, and he’s forced to face what the rest of the world sees him as. It’s not that Grey Worm has a sense of ownership over you, but for once he was allowing himself all these happy feelings and memories with you, and now it’s gone. Of course he wants you back, but he feels paralyzed. What if he makes it worse? Does this have to happen? He starts to become even more withdrawn and distant, worrying Missandei until she decides to help. Grey Worm finally returns to his old self when he has you in his arms again.

Tywin Lannister

His steady composure is hit with such a rage at the news, the servant delivering it goes into a panic. His interest in you was obvious, so anyone doing this was trying to spite him. He doesn’t take the insult well. Perhaps before you’re even able to tell him the news yourself, threats will be delivered to both the spouse’s family and your own - Tywin is especially furious towards them, and won’t forget this - and incidents will be arranged. He refuses to be a man who pines after someone or covets another one’s wife, nor will he allow some lesser lord to take what he perceives as ‘his’.

Tyrion Lannister

The angst hits him like a ton of bricks, and it’s even worse if this came out of left field. It hurts less if he hears it from you, but only just. He should have known your family wouldn’t have accept any proposal he made - and gods know he was ready to do it - it’s just one more log to fuel his self-loathing and bitterness toward this world. But if you knock some sense into him, he’ll snap out of that spiral and begin to plan with you. There’s plenty of choices before the two of you - scandal? Running off? - but rest assured, Tyrion is going to investigate the hell out of this person. He’d never forgive himself if you got stuck with a brute.

Jaime Lannister

The fact he knew this was inevitable doesn't help Jaime's irritation. He can't believe your family arranged for that person to marry you. Seriously? You'd better keep Jaime at a distance from your spouse, because he can't help himself from making snide remarks and sarcastic comments. If he riles up the guy into a duel, all the better. He'll do all sorts of reckless things to begin with, and it's only worse when he's upset. He's also very willing to have an affair behind your spouse's back - you were with him first. You’ll probably have to scold Jaime about you two almost getting caught, but he’s above reproach. His stubbornness and jealousy gets worse the closer you two are.

Cersei Lannister

She’s absolutely infuriated with your family. You were her handmaiden, someone whose been with her for years - and they have the nerve to go behind her back like this?! It smells like a scheme of Tyrion’s, or perhaps Varys, but she’ll deal with them in time. For now, she’ll work out what to do about your spouse. She’ll try to keep you around as much as possible, and her possessiveness comes out in full. You can’t possibly be interested in such a worthless man.

Sandor Clegane

When you tell Sandor, he’s quiet for a discerningly long time before the anger and arguments come out. And then the quiet bitterness. The thing is, he knew this was coming for a while. He knew your time together was limited, he shouldn’t have things like hopes and happiness because it’ll just get taken away. And it is. Even if you explain you’ll try to break off the arrangement, that there’s still a way to get out, he has trouble believing it. He’s seen enough ladies get chained to useless fucking lords, he’d rather not see it happen to someone he cares about, thanks. Sandor will push you away as much as he can, but you could still attempt to convince him to have an affair… or perhaps leave King’s Landing entirely.

Ser Bronn of the Blackwater

He’s only mildly annoyed at the inconvenience. It’ll be a lot harder for you both to sneak around now, and forget about it if you’re having to move somewhere far away. Guess that’s the end of that ‘relationship’ - he should’ve expected it. Bronn is way more willing to stay close if you remain in King’s Landing, and he expects you both to keep fooling around. Now, if he’s actually started to develop feelings about you… he’ll start to act differently. You don’t actually like your spouse, do you? Wasn’t that just some arranged bullshit? He’ll throw smirks and subtle insults your spouse’s way, as if trying to goad them into a fight. More then once you two will almost get caught because he decides waltzing up to your window is totally acceptable, or trying to have a quickie in the middle of the day. A surprisingly jealous side will come out and he’s in total denial about any feelings he might have.

Jacquen H’ghar

This isn’t alarming to Jacquen at first. He knew he could never have such a union with you, and since this Westerosi society is so insistent on marriage, it would happen eventually. Still, your pain hurts him as well. Jacquen would have a variety of plans … anywhere from easily disguising as a guard or servant so he’s always beside you, or perhaps whisking you away somewhere. This isn’t the end of your relationship for him - it’s just a challenge to overcome. He assumes you won’t send him away or break it off.

Petyr Baelish

You being someone else’s wife makes no difference to Petyr, though he’s surprised in himself. Usually he stays out of such affairs, it only causes trouble… But he’s been intrigued by you, and quite frankly, he’s offended that this Lord Whoever from Wherever didn’t take his interest into account. No matter. Petyr has plenty of plans to deal with this pest, though he’s annoyed at his own jealousy whenever he sees you together with your spouse, even if you’re miserable. While he doesn’t want you unhappy, it certainly makes starting an affair and/or disposing of your spouse much easier.

Robert Baratheon

He’s furious and everyone is going to know about it. Robert will complain endlessly to Ned and Lord Arryn about how he found you first, how that useless shit of a husband won’t know what to do with you. Since he does little to hide his disgust, rumors will spread all over court. Hell, he’ll probably say even stupider things when he’s drunk, or he’ll do something stupider, like actually try to aggravate the guy into a fight or a duel. If you’re actually able to get him under control, he has no qualms about having an affair with you… but he may not be subtle about it. So that’s another thing to keep in mind.

Stannis Baratheon

It’s depressingly impressive how willing Stannis is to bury and deny his feelings once he hears you’re promised to someone else. He’ll try to extinguish all the happiness he had with you, bottle up all the memories and feelings that went along with it. This will be fine. He’ll be fine. This iron resolve is easy to maintain if Stannis rarely sees you. If you both are forced to interact even semi-often, it chips away at him, and he can’t help himself from making biting remarks about your spouse when you both visit. He hates feeling this way, he’s never felt it before, and he carries a deep grudge against your spouse and family for making it happen. It’s easier if you write to him, but then Stannis starts keeping those letters and punishing himself by reading them over and over. Eventually he stops entirely, deeming it inappropriate, even if that feels like cutting off one of his limbs.

Davos Seaworth

The old knight is understandably saddened by news of your betrothal and marriage, but it makes sense. Politics-wise, Davos believes he isn’t much of a prize, even when he’s risen to Lord. He should’ve expected this would happen. He’d wish you genuine happiness… But if you were miserable, Davos would feel awful and powerless. If you truly wanted to continue the relationship behind your spouse’s back, his biggest worry would be the secret getting out and your reputation being ruined. He wouldn’t be able to resist forever, but he’d still try to talk you out of it and try to convince you to forget about him.

Margaery Tyrell

She seeks you out the moment she finds out - and that was quickly, because she often keeps tabs on you. Her grandmother warned her about getting so close to her favorite, but it still comes as a terrible shock. Margaery holds you close and promises she’ll make it better, somehow. Maybe she and her grandmother can reason with her family, perhaps you can marry into the Tyrell family, so you both can be together. She’ll fix it, she swears. The thought of someone else being with you is terrible enough, she’ll be even more worried if the person is abusive. Margaery won’t stand for it, and might take a few rare risks for your sake.

Brynden Tully

This stirs up a lot of complicated feelings in the old knight. He knew his relationship with you wouldn’t last forever, that you’d have to marry eventually, and he never wanted to marry…. But he feels like this is his fault, especially if you’re miserable. He could’ve prevented this. Brynden knows he ought to break off the relationship, and he won’t blame you if you do… but he’ll also consider the idea of continuing the relationship. And if you have to go somewhere far away, he’ll still appreciate you sending letters and having a correspondence. The relationship may not be the same long-distance, but he cares a lot about you, and it hurts having you cut from his life.

Edmure Tully

Woe and misery. How much wine is in Riverrun’s stores? He may end up drinking a dent in it by the time the month is out. He almost didn’t believe the news until he heard it from several people, or just you directly. How could this happen? Wasn’t he courting you properly, taking all the steps just the right way? Wasn’t his interest obvious to anyone with eyes? Edmure approaches your family with a bit of a hot head, almost demanding an answer for why they chose whoever over … whoever your spouse is. Edmure doesn’t even care who it is, he hates their guts immediately. More likely than not, he’ll do something foolish, like start a duel. If all else fails, he’ll make sad eyes at you at all the feasts and galas and go into a bit of a depression.

Brienne of Tarth

Brienne is immediately distraught, but also believes she deserves it somehow. This happy relationship just had to come to an end, didn’t it? Well, you two had to be discreet about it to begin with, which didn’t please her … but this alternative feels worse. Brienne switches between trying to stay frosty to make it easier for you two to part, and being unable to hold back her affection and sadness. The best solution she can think of is to stay as your sworn sword, independent of your new husband’s house guards. And gods know, she will come at him with a vengeance if he even dares upset you or lay an unwanted hand on you. That means the relationship could continue, but she dislikes the secrecy even more when you’re married. While she doesn’t like the idea of running away from problems, maybe in certain circumstances, she’d be open to the idea…

Ramsay Bolton

Ramsay is irate, to say the least. Even if you don’t actually know him, you’ve just caught his eye, he’ll become possessive. If you both were romantic before the engagement news, his anger and possessiveness would be even more dangerous. Woe to your spouse if he lives close to the Dreadfort - leave it to Ramsay to think up some “accident” for them to be involved in. And if he finds out they’re involved in some sort of treason or crime, that’s all the better, no matter how flimsy the “crime” is. If he’s feeling especially reckless, he’ll just arrange their murder and take you back right away. Ramsay is a terrible loser, doubly so if it involves one of the few things he actually cares about.

Roose Bolton

On the outside he doesn’t react to the news beyond a silent glare. On the inside, Roose is furious. He had plans for you, plans that may have taken quite a while to get to this point, and now it’s been ruined by someone whose actively working against him… or too stupid to realize what a massive mistake they just made. Roose thinks up various ways to circumvent this and have you to himself. In the meantime, he’ll gladly continue an affair behind your spouse’s back, but that won’t necessarily save them from death. You’ll notice him become increasingly possessive and jealous, even if you have zero interest in your spouse, and you can sense he’ll be holding a deep grudge against whoever arranged this in the first place.

Oberyn Martell

As soon as he hears about the news, Doran has to talk him down from dueling the man…Half his daughters support it, the other half suggest something more subtle. Overyn feels insulted, for one - your affection for each other was obvious, yet your family still made this arrangement. And if he doesn’t get his duel, he will spread all sorts of unsavory, salacious rumors about your spouse, in hopes of creating a scandal that makes your family break the union. Or better, lead to the man dueling Oberyn directly! Oberyn doesn’t even consider continuing your relationship with him an “affair”. You both were together first, and a farce of a marriage you didn’t agree to won’t change that. You just have to make sure he can be discreet.

Doran Martell

While the news of your engagement is depressing, it isn't surprising. He's quite aware of the politics of Westeros, even if his own family doesn't believe it, and he had wind of this engagement. He just thought he could stop it in time. He hides his disappointment, but his family can tell he's withdrawing. Oberyn argues with his brother to go get you and fight, but Doran is a man of silent plans. He'll still love to correspond with you, and you can tell by his letters that he seems hopeful. Maybe he's thought of a way to break it off …

Arianne Martell

Well, isn’t this irksome? Arianne loved having you in her palace and keeping you all to herself, but then this foolish arranged marriage happened… She doesn’t hide her disdain, and she’s annoyed at herself for not doing more to stop it. The princess will spend no small amount of time being angry at the unfairness of it. Once she’s calmed, she doesn’t see why you both can’t continue the relationship behind closed doors. You’re both used to sneaking around, anyway. And Arianne can’t resist ferreting around for some salacious rumors about your spouse… Wouldn’t it be a shame if she found out something that led you to your family cutting the betrothal off?

Tyene Sand

She’s beyond annoyed at this outcome. You were her favorite, in more ways than one, and while she didn’t delude herself into thinking you’d be together forever… well, couldn’t you both have spent your days in court in service to the Martells, or perhaps left forever on a boat to Essos? Why did this have to happen so soon? She’s despondent, much as she tries to hide it, even with her sisters trying to comfort her. She begins to think of plans, just little things … a rumor here, a scheme there. She’ll feel much better if you remain in the Sunspear court, so she can stay close and your relationship can continue.

[lantsovsupremacist]

nikolai lantsov request of exes to enemies to lovers with angst and fluff (happy ending pls)

blondie writes for nikolai lantsov and him alone. i simply translate! 😉

part 1/2 🧍‍♀️you get happiness later!

nikolai lantsov: sad beautiful tragic

time is taking it’s sweet time erasing you, and you got your demons and darling they all look like me.

cause we had a beautiful magic love there; what a sad, beautiful, tragic love affair.

with footsteps pounding down the stone staircase, you locked your eyes beneath you to avoid falling victim to one of the chipped steps. the tears collecting at the forefront of your irises did little to mitigate the matter. the castle still confused you but as long as you could flee from wherever he was, you would manage. for every passageway you put between yourself and the place you left him you breathed a little deeper.

he did not call after you.

he did not care to fight for you.

he did not want you to come back.

perhaps, you would not have acted any differently, but his actions—or lack there of—still stung immensely. it took no longer than a blink of an eye for him to break your heart. the strong hands that had once held you tore it into two without leaving behind a shred of remorse.

you felt overwhelmed and dizzy. you started to hold your breath in an attempt to delay the sobs smoldering in your throat. any more oxygen and they would surely be set ablaze.

when the door finally closed behind you and things quieted, you allowed yourself to tolerate the tears. how unfortunate it was that you fell apart behind four unfamiliar walls. the room was more of a formality than anything else, given you had not spent a night apart from nikolai. that would all change now, of course.

it had been easy to fool around with sturmhond. you did not have to care if every word he spoke was a lie. you were not responsible for either his feelings or your own. you entertained each other for a time.

a knock came at the door. with your fingertips gripped across the back of a chair, you looked up into the mirror ahead of you. puffy eyes hanging above red and splotchy cheeks reflected back.

“go away.”

ignoring your command, the door swung open.

genya shuffled inside, hands behind her back. you started to cry again. it was not nikolai. your breathing grew despairingly shallow. your mind wanted to forget nikolai, but your heart was crumbling without his other half to support it.

“oh,” she whispered, immediately beginning to wring her hands at her sides, “oh, honey.”

your chest battled gravity as it rose up and down repeatedly, “he doesn’t want me anymore.”

genya sunk down on her knees alongside you, bringing a quick arm around your shoulder. she brought your hair behind you shoulders and wiped the tears that had already fell. with furrowed eyebrows, she brought a hand to your wrist. stroking her finger over your pulse point, you began to find yourself relaxing your breathing. she kissed the top of your head, a spot where a crown might have one day rested.

“nikolai is foolish and confused,” genya comforted you, “i think he wants you more than anything else, so much so that he doesn’t know what to do.” a sad smile lined her features, exposing a dimple just beneath one of her scars.

“so many people want him,” you began, rising from the ground with a sniffle, “the entirety of ravka depends on him, and i’m just me.”

“i happen to believe he’ll disagree,” she offered, “i know i certainly do.”

genya sighed, tugging on your elbow with a nod to the door. you tried to dig your heels into the floor, but she guided you elsewhere. you allowed her to carry you forward.

“don’t take me to him,” you hiccuped, “please, genya.”

“no,” she refuted, “you’re not leaving it like this.”

“he did,” you whimpered, finally tugging your hand out of her grasp, “why shouldn’t i?”

“because you either have to let him keep your heart or make him give the other half back.” her words were even and carefully considered.

—

genya disregarded the royal guards. you followed behind her, sparing them a single glance. they settled back into place. you almost laughed. you had become such a permanent fixture of nikolai’s life that his guards relented to genya barging in because of your presence.

nikolai was slouched in a chair, appearing rather exhausted. his hair hung a mess over his eyes. you bit your lip at the sight of his leg bouncing restlessly.

genya sent him a look more threatening than you would have ever been able to accomplish in your current state. he caught himself before he could roll his eyes or argue, unwilling to sacrifice a member of the triumvirate. you supposed he could simply justify your loss as collateral damage.

your eyes trailed genya’s form until she departed entirely from your view. only then, did you dare take nikolai in fully. he looked about as awful as he had made you feel.

“you didn’t come after me,” you phrased your words as a question, begging him to answer.

he shifted, leaning back in his chair to look up at you, “i didn’t want to.” it left you looking down at him.

you breathed out in disbelief, shaking your head at his tone. he knew exactly what he was doing to you. you wanted to rip your heart away from him. maybe if you cut away the remaining strings, he would not be able to control you like he did now.

“what if i wanted you to?” your voice increased an octave, clattering against the walls as an echo.

a scoff left his mouth as he resigned to engage in the breakdown of another fight, “it wouldn’t have mattered. you wouldn’t have listened to me.” before you could respond, he spoke up again, “i don’t have to follow after you.”

you shifted your gaze to the glass of water on his desk. no matter the desperation building in your chest, you wanted to feel angry, instead. it was easier to manage. so, you lashed out at him. building the water pressure in the lone glass, you watched it shatter on his desk and saturate the paperwork.

“missed me,” he mumbled wearily.

feeling like a child, you stomped your foot and sent the water to splash against his face. it dripped past his lips—a sight you chose to ignore, lest it elicit a response rather inappropriate for the current circumstances. they caught in a smile as he laughed bitterly, bringing his hands across his mouth.

“i told you i would marry you,” nikolai pressed onward carelessly, running a hand through his hair as if to dismiss your actions, “certainly not my fault you said no, now is it?”

“because it sounded like something you’d resigned to accept! something that had to be done!” the words tore through your throat painfully, “it should be a privilege. it should be love.”

you detected the exact moment he comprehended the final line. he straightened and swallowed harshly. nikolai lantsov looked inexplicably afraid.

“it should be love?” he questioned quietly. now, he was angry and afraid. you knew it to be a fragile but dangerous combination.

“you assume marriage is enough for me,” your voice grew louder, daring him to fight, “marriage won’t make you love me again, nikolai lantsov.”

“you’re putting words in my mouth!” the fervor in his voice did not go unnoticed.

“someone has to,” a moment of silence passed, “you haven’t talked to me in weeks,” you clung to a whisper, “not really.”

you watched his eyes carry themselves across the room. you cursed your heart for hoping they would find land in you. they kept searching elsewhere, drifting further out to sea.

“again?” his voice was broken.

“what?” you questioned, clearing your throat as the sudden shame washed over you for barging in on the king.

“you said marriage wouldn’t make you love me again,” he dared a step closer, “have you stopped loving me?”

you took a trembling step back from him with your heart beating erratically inside your chest. you could not find the control to move your fingers, not even to curl them into reluctant fists. suddenly, everything felt heavy, and you did not want to carry the weight alone.

“i don’t know, nikolai,” you answered somewhat truthfully, unable to gather an honest answer.

“i suppose that’s fair,” he relented.

“i suppose it is,” you whispered with a frown.

you turned to leave after a moment, taking his soundless stance as an indication of retreat.

“you broke my heart,” nikolai realized aloud, hands deep in his pockets as he stared at you.

“yeah well,” he titled his head at you, “you broke mine first,” you spoke coldly, hardening yourself to ice against his warm body.

taking a step away from him, you gasped as his hand found your jaw. although his grip was firm, you refused to melt at his feet. you did not belong to the whim’s of nikolai lantsov’s heart any longer.

“i’m leaving you, nikolai,” you stuttered out as you backed away, gasping at the shiver in your chest enacted by his touch.

his jaw tightened, “you can’t.” his voice was a ghost of a severe whisper, and you knew it would haunt you forever.

“i have to,” you spoke clearly.

“i-,” he fumbled fervently for any semblance of conviction or persuasion, “you can’t leave me.” he had ran out of personas to pull you in with.

“i already have,” you granted him a final look out of pity before you left his room behind and with it, his wavering silhouette.

[laurenairay]

What Love Feels Like - S. Crosby

Summary: your boyfriend Sidney, the surprise romantic?

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: established relationship fluff, cheesy romance, essentially a 4+1

A/N: I’ve been in an absolute writing rut since before Christmas, so I just want to thank @danglesnipecelly​ for reminding me how much I love soft sexy sid 😘 also, how have I never written for him before?!

~

No-one ever said dating Sidney Crosby was going to be easy.

They also didn’t say how much of a romantic he was either.

It was like at every turn, he had a new way to make your heart beat a little faster, to make you face heat up warm, to make your stomach fill with butterflies. Whether it was buying your favourite sweet treats as a pick me up, or the kisses that would leave you breathless in passing, or even the way his tongue flicked at your bare body just right, Sidney always kept you on your toes.

But it was his words that affected you the most.

You hadn’t expected much verbal affection from him at the beginning of your relationship, the rumours of his hockey robot status the main thing you knew about him – but you were quickly proved wrong. Maybe it was the media training that kept him so hockey-bland in interviews, because the minute he wasn’t in hockey mode, he immediately turned sweet, suave and so sexy. And it wasn’t just flirting talk, to prelude to sex (although the first time he murmured all the things he wanted to do with you after the team event you were at, you almost lost your mind then and there) – it was the sweet loving statements that sent your heart pounding.

How could you ever have known about his way with words?

*

Today had been a stressful one. Work had been full-on without any warning, and you were just about done with people. You’d even hesitated when Sidney offered to cook you dinner at his house – but eventually the temptation of being pampered by your boyfriend had been too good to resist. Maybe he’d be able to turn your day around. It couldn’t hurt to try, right?

And as you suspected, Sidney had taken one look at the exhaustion on your face and ushered you to the sofa, only disappearing to come back with a large glass of wine for you.

“You are an absolute gem,” you groaned, tilting your head back to look up at him.

He just grinned, taking the silent cue for what it was and leaning down to kiss you gently. Yes, this was just what you needed.

And the evening had only gotten better from there. Sidney had made the two of you a simple but delicious coq au vin dinner (the recipe definitely came from Vero Fleury, and you knew that you would definitely need to text her your thanks later), followed by a chocolate tart that you swore was the best thing you’d ever tasted (that one was from a local bakery, and you knew it wouldn’t be the last time you’d get something from there now!). And all throughout the evening, Sidney had kept the conversation flowing, telling you hilarious stories of grumpy Geno and naïve rookies from the recent road trip he’d had, as well as about the cute dog that his neighbour had recently adopted, and you felt yourself relaxing more with each passing moment.

Sidney had indeed turned your day around just like you’d hoped.

After eating, Sidney had insisted on clearing the plates by himself, making you roll your eyes fondly but accept a gentle kiss as he walked past. You could at least get the two of you a fresh glass of wine each. You were tired, not incapable. So with that in mind, you picked up the two empty wine glasses and followed your boyfriend into the kitchen, opening the fridge to pick out the open bottle of white wine he’d opened earlier.

But just as you finished filling the glasses, you felt a pair of arms slide around you from behind, making you jump slightly, earning a soft laugh.

“Menace,” you complained fondly, putting the wine bottle down on the side.

“Couldn’t help myself, I needed you in my arms,” Sidney said simply, squeezing you in a little hug.

You leant back into his chest, smiling to yourself. How could you say no to that? The two of you stayed silent for a few more moments, just enjoying the comfort of this embrace, until Sidney sighed softly.

“You make me want things I didn’t think I could have,” Sidney murmured, pressing a kiss to your shoulder.

What the hell?

You spun around in his arms straight away, the frown on your face making Sidney laugh softly.

“What things? And who says you can’t have them?” you demanded.

“Always so protective,” he mused.

You batted at his chest, rolling your eyes. “I’m serious Sid! What do you mean, things you can’t have?”

He bit his bottom lip, making your frustration soften a little. This was something he’d really thought about, wasn’t it?

“I just…I never expected to find someone while I was still playing hockey,” Sidney started.

What the hell? He was just going to wait, until he eventually retired? What?! But as you opened your mouth to protest, Sidney pressed a finger to your lips, a fond smile on his.

“No, I know what I’m like. My routines are so set in stone, I’m away so often, I have so many more responsibilities as Captain and well, just because I’m me. I was told from a young age that anything other than hockey was a distraction. So I just…shelved the idea. Didn’t even let myself hope,” Sidney explained.

“Sid…that’s so sad,” you said softly, clutching at his sweater with both hands, “to just resign yourself to being lonely, I can’t…”

“Hey, it’s okay. I can’t say it hasn’t paid off with hockey,” he mused, “and besides…I met you, didn’t I?”

You bit your lip, your face heating up warm, Sidney’s hand rising to run a knowing thumb over your cheek.

“So I wasn’t a distraction?” you asked hopefully.

“Oh, you absolutely were,” Sidney said, laughing softly, making your heart sink a little. He saw your hesitant expression, and shook his head. “It was a distraction that I didn’t know I needed. You help me break out of my intensity, to separate the rink from home. Without you, I would just eat, breathe, sleep hockey, and meeting you made me realise that I can have hockey and love. You give me a reason to live, and I couldn’t be more grateful for that,”

You couldn’t stop the tears that sprung to your eyes, nor the smile that spread across your lips. “Sidney…” you murmured helplessly.

“Thank you. For making me whole. For making me a better person,” he said seriously, hand still cupping your face so you couldn’t do anything but look into his eyes.

Your heart clenched at his words, and there was nothing you could think of to say that needed to be added. So you just lifted your head and pressed your lips to his in a kiss that said everything.

*

A good run of games, with far more wins than losses, always put your boyfriend in a good mood. So good, that after the latest game, which was another win where he’d gotten 2 goals and 1 assist, he’d even suggested going out for drinks. You were more than happy to agree – not that you didn’t love your evenings in with him, but sometimes it was nice to go out and try something new, y’know? These plans quickly turned into a couples’ drinks with Kris and Catherine, and Geno and Anna, and the six of you ended up in a private booth in a fancy cocktail bar.

You’d immediately ordered some lethal manhattan cocktails with Anna and Cath, leaving the guys to their own devices as the three of you toasted to the success of the men in your lives. As you surveyed the bar around you, you felt yourself relax a little. This was exactly you needed, with exactly these people. These two women had welcomed you so quickly into the Better Halves group, and you couldn’t be more excited to spend time with just them. Well, them and your rapidly tipsy partners. 

It had only taken the three men a couple of hours to be giggling messes. 

Kris, the troublemaker that he was, had indulged Sidney’s sweet tooth with so many sugary cocktails, that he was already pretty far gone, eyes glassy and skin flushed. Sure, he was going to feel it tomorrow morning, but the fact that he actually got the chance to let go, to just relax with his just closest friends? That was the most important thing.

How often did Sidney get the chance to do that?

The six of you were still in the booth, Geno having just come back with a fresh round of cocktails, and Sidney was started to lean against you a little heavier, making you frown slightly.

“Hey, are you good?” you asked softly.

Sidney leaned back to look at you properly, hair a little ruffled and his top two buttons undone, distracting you slightly.

“You’re the most beautiful thing I have ever seen…and I’ve held the Stanley Cup three times,” Sidney slurred, his lips stretched in that beautiful crooked grin.

Kris, Cath, Geno and Anna all just burst into laughter, making you laugh too.

“I’m serious! The cup is so beautiful…but you, you are the most,” Sidney said firmly.

“He’s serious,” Kris snickered, “crisse Sid, what a romantic,”

The sarcasm just made Sidney pout. Bless him.

“Okay I think it’s time for some water,” you giggled.

“Oh no please, let him carry on. It’s been so long since drunk Sid made an appearance,” Kris grinned.

“Drunk Sid is most fun!” Geno added, nodding enthusiastically.

You looked back at your boyfriend to see him still smiling at you like the sun, and you couldn’t stop the butterflies erupting in your stomach. How were you supposed to react, when he looked at you so brilliantly? You didn’t have to look at Cath or Anna to know that they were smiling fondly at you – you’d had enough wine nights with them to know how sweet they thought Sidney was with you.

“He may be fun now, but he’s going to be an absolute grump tomorrow and you know it,” you mused, shaking your head.

“Won’t be grumpy,” Sidney insisted.

Oh jeez. “Yes you will,” you teased, “But you’re cute, so I’ll let it slide,”

“You think I’m cute?” Sidney said happily, before looking at his teammates, “she think I’m cute!”

That just sent Kris and Geno into fits of laughter again, making you sigh fondly. Oh he was definitely going to feel this tomorrow.

Worth it though.

*

The summer brought you back to Nova Scotia with Sidney. Well, you’d taken two weeks off work in August to be able to spend Sidney’s birthday with him, but you were so glad you did. Spending some proper time with his parents and with Taylor was so worth it, and you didn’t miss the little smiles he sent your way when he thought you weren’t looking – Sidney loved you being home with him just as much as you loved it.

The best part though, was definitely waking up to that sleepy morning sunlight, the lake only a stone’s throw away, Sidney warm and content and at peace. 

“Mm happy birthday Sid,” you murmured sleepily, curling further into his body.

“Shh, if my body doesn’t know that I’m getting older then I won’t get any more grey hairs,” Sidney groaned, not opening his eyes.

You just giggled, running a hand over his bare chest. What a drama queen.

“I’m pretty sure it doesn’t work like that, baby,” you teased, “you know I like your grey hair, the little grey of it that there is,”

What? You did!

Sidney lifted his head to look down at you incredulously. Of course that was what made him wake up properly.

“You like it?” he frowned.

“It makes you look…distinguished. It’s…sexy,” you shrugged. There was no reason to lie to him after all.

“Sexy?” he laughed, rolling his eyes.

Oh now that wouldn’t do. You slotted your leg between his thighs, moving to hover him slightly where he was lying on his back, waiting until he was looking at you properly. He swallowed heavily at the seriousness in your expression. Good.

“Yeah, Sid. It’s sexy,” you said softly, “you’re sexy. Clearly I need to tell you that more often,”

Sidney’s tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip, his eyes never leaving yours as he processed your words.

“If I’m so sexy, then why haven’t you kissed me yet?”

The desire in his voice sent a shiver down your spine, and you couldn’t help but to grin. You leant your head down to kiss him softly, leaning up on your elbow for a better angle. Sidney groaned softly at the sweet kiss, one hand sliding into your hair with the other resting on your waist. You kept the kiss slow, gentle, intense, with only light brushes of your tongue, taking your time to enjoy yourself. You loved early mornings like this, when it was just the two of you with nothing to do for hours, and today you had nowhere to be until well into the afternoon, so you were going to indulge yourself with these kisses while you could.

Eventually you broke away, lips feeling as swollen as Sidney’s looked. Wow.

“Is that better?” you mused, stroking the hair at his template.

“Hmm, I don’t know. That’s all I get?” he murmured, “on my birthday?”

Tease. You licked your bottom lip, Sidney’s eyes flashing darker, and you rolled off of him, tugging your sleep-top over your head and lying down sultrily on your back. Sidney’s eyes immediately fell to your bare chest, yours flicking down to the hard line of his cock in his boxers, before you grinned.

“Get over here birthday boy…” you purred.

Sidney didn’t waste another second.

*

Sometimes things weren’t perfect. Sometimes Sidney had a string of bad games where he got too much into his own head. Sometimes he wouldn’t communicate in any more than a couple of words or grunts. Sometimes you had to prioritise a work deadline over time with him. Sometimes things between the two of you were extremely tense until one (or most often, both) of you cracked and talked it out.

But that’s what made your relationship work – the talking. Being with Sidney meant being in such a mature adult relationship, and it was refreshing to be able to work through things with a guy that wasn’t just going to fly off the handle or sulk around. Sure, Sidney had his faults, but he always tried not to take his frustrations out on you. You knew that the highs of dating a hockey superstar came with the lows too – you knew that when you agreed to go on that very first date way back when, but he’d proved time and time again that he was worth it. He was always worth it.

Right now, Sidney…no, the Penguins had been on a bad luck streak, and you could see the pressure piling up on your boyfriend, from management, from the press, from the fans, from himself. But not from you. There was no way you were going to add to his stress, not when he needed your support more than anything.

And you knew he appreciated more than anything else.

Like today, for example.

Sidney had turned up at your apartment a couple of hours earlier than you thought, having come straight from the airport rather than going to his house first, just looking bone-tired. So you’d immediately drawn him a bath with your favourite lavender-vanilla bath bubbles, Sidney insisting that you join him too.

Well, you weren’t going to deny him that.

So that’s where the two of you were now, you lying between Sidney’s legs, your back leaning against his chest, your hands clutching at his forearms where his arms were wrapped around you.

“Thank you,” he said quietly.

You just smiled softly, tilting your head back to press a kiss to his jaw before leaning into him again.

“I’m just sorry we’re doing this in my shitty apartment rather than your lovely bathroom,” you shrugged.

“It doesn’t matter whether we’re at your place or mine. You’ve always felt like home,” Sidney murmured.

Oh god, if your heart could be any more full it would be. Wow.

“I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else,” you said softly, not wanting to break the moment, “I’ll always be here for you,”

Sidney smiled into your neck, pressing the lightest of kisses into your skin, making you shiver despite the temperate of the water.

“I mean it, you are my home and I couldn’t be more grateful. You’ve shown me what love feels like, sweetheart,” Sidney murmured, “I love you,”

You tried desperately to blink away the tears that sprung to your eyes, squeezing his hands. “I love you too Sid. So much,” you whispered.

As his arms held you a little tighter and he buried his face in your neck a little more, you knew there was nowhere else you would rather be.

*

Another morning, another day waking up in Sidney’s arms. No matter how many roadtrips he went on, countless by the point, it still felt weird sleeping in your own bed without him. Your apartment felt cold, felt empty, despite it holding all your possessions, but you knew that was just because it didn’t have him in it. When he was home in Pittsburgh, whether it was in your apartment or at his house, you had never slept better than when you were with him. You could only hope he felt the same.

“Good morning,” Sidney said softly, breaking you out of your thoughts.

“Good morning,” you replied, smiling up at him.

He smiled back, leaning over to press a few gentle kisses to your lips before leaning back.

“That was a real serious face you had a moment ago,” Sidney said, lying on his side with his head propped up with his hand.

Busted. “I was just thinking,” you shrugged.

“What are you thinking about?” he mused.

“Nothing much. Just…”

You trailed off, biting your bottom lip. Sidney’s hand slid to cup your face, his thumb brushing over your trapped lip until you let it free.

“Just…” he prompted.

“I could get used to waking up beside you,” you blurted,

Sidney’s face looked a little stunned. Damn it. Was that too much?

But then his face shifted into the biggest smile you’d ever seen, making your hopeful heart beat a little faster.

“Why don’t we make that a reality?”

W-What?

Sidney saw the confusion in your expression and hesitated, before turning and reaching into the bedside drawer beside him. He paused slightly, as he grabbed whatever it was, making your heart beat a little faster. What was going on? But after a couple of beats, he rolled back over to face you, hand clenched in a fist.

“Move in with me?” he murmured.

He opened his fist, revealing a shiny key, making your jaw drop a little. Oh wow.

“For real?” you whispered, eyes not moving from the key.

“Yeah, for real,” Sidney mused, although you could hear the strain of nerves in his voice, “I would really love for this to be your home too. You already have a ton of your clothes here as well as make-up and your shower stuff…so why don’t we make this full time?”

You choked out a laugh – he did have a point there.

But was it too soon?

No.

“If it makes a difference, I’ve wanted to ask you for months,” Sidney admitted.

“You have?” you asked, surprised.

“Yeah, sweetheart. You’re it for me,” he said simply.

He really did have such a way with words.

“I would love to, Sid,” you said softly.

“Yeah?” he grinned,

“Yeah. I want to build this life with you. So let’s do this,” you nodded.

Sidney whooped, making you giggle, and he dropped the key into the bedsheets in favour of pressing a deep kiss to your lips. Yeah, you could get used to this.

[wrenhyperfixates]

Not So Alone

Pairing: Loki x female teen!reader (platonic) Summary: Meeting a young fan of his gives Loki some renewed hope. Warnings: none :) A/N: Here you go nonny! Hope you enjoy :)

Permanent Tag List: @lucywrites02 @frostedgiant @lunarmoon8 @twhiddlestonsstuff​ @lokistan @lowkeyorlokificrecs @gaitwae @whatafuckingdumbass @castiels-majestic-wings @kozkaboi @cozy-the-overlord @birdgirl90 @myraiswack @mythicalgarlicknot @what-a-flammable-heart @marvelouslovely @laurenandloki @fallinallinmendes @sophlubbwriting

Disclaimer: Gif not mine

Loki was never one any person thought of much note, a sad fact he’d near resigned himself to, setting his face and body into an unbothered mask. The outside, at least, convinced everyone else, though no amount of staring at an emotionless reflection could impress upon Loki that he didn’t care. His mind was far too tumultuous for that. Anyway, for being the God of Lies, Loki has never figured out how to effectively lie to himself.

Five years in the Avengers Tower was far more than enough for the downtrodden god, and now he lived in an unremarkable apartment building that held some kind of charm to him, if solely for the reason there was a small, privately owned bookshop beneath it. He enjoyed the neatly arranged books in the display window, greeting him as he walked up the three stairs to unlock the building crammed in with so many others every day. Once his courage had been gathered two months after his initial move, he’d begun frequenting the store often.

Regardless of whether he was able to escape the relative misery he found himself stewing in by living in the Tower, he still had to work with the team that still managed to hold some amount of contempt for him even after he’d proved himself repeatedly. Simply, they weren’t cut from the same cloth, and when trying to sew the fabrics together, they clashed something awful. A truly dreadful state for a team of superheroes to work in, remarked Loki to himself often, and had resolved to make himself as small and agreeable as possible, though the sharp wit never died in his tongue. Such an attitude as he adopted seemed to suit the others just fine, and missions were carried out successfully and without any major mishaps more often than not.

Today he was heading that familiar way up to his home after a trip to the supermarket, when he saw a young girl sitting on those slate steps he could take two at a time if he really wanted to. Midgardians aged differently than what he was used to, so he wasn’t much good at supposing someone’s age, but he thought you looked to be about in your teenaged years. You were sitting glumly upon those cold, grey steps, staring down at the blank, stark white pages of a sketchpad. Your eraser on the tip of the pencil made a dull thump-thump-thump as you tapped it against the emptiness waiting to be enlivened by strokes from the opposite, leaden end.

“Pardon,” he said, carefully moving on your side.

“Oh! I’m so sorry, I-” you cut off with a heinous sort of gasp, the kind Loki would have thought fake if not for the raw feeling behind it. “Y-you’re Loki!”

“Ah, so I have been found out,” he chuckled, somewhat nervously. It seemed you said it with a sort of starstruck wonder, but he could hardly believe such a thing possible and figured it was wishful thinking on his part.

“Oh my gosh!! I’m your biggest fan,” you squealed before introducing yourself and brandishing your still unfilled sketchbook and pencil toward him. “If-if it’s not too much trouble, could I maybe get y-your signature... Please?”

Now the shoe was on the other foot, and he felt shock at this stuttered request. It felt almost like some long forgotten fever dream. Someone wanted his signature? At this point, it was a small thing for the other avengers at this point, but not so for Loki, who so many were still afraid to meet eyes with. He could have continued wistfully standing there as if reminiscing over some passed joy, but this was the present, and he did not want to disappoint his biggest, possibly only, fan.

“Alright,” he granted, putting down his bags of fresh produce and fish he was planning on cooking up for dinner that night. He took the offered paper and scrawled a quick note, made out to the name you’d given him moments before. He was never much of an emotional speaker, but he hoped it sufficed. He finished with his well-practiced, looping signature. “Here you go, little one.”

“Thank you so much, Mr. Loki!”

He chuckled a little at the sound of the name. True, he went by no surname as he felt he didn’t belong to any one particular group or family, and would rather not be reminded of his lineage, true or otherwise. Still, hearing the honorific before his name was unusual, especially when your continued respect prompted you to offer to help with his groceries.

“I am certain you need to be running home soon, it is almost dinner time. But I appreciate it immensely.”

“Don’t worry about that,” you persisted, grabbing a bag anyway. “I lice in the building. We just moved here. But you save the city literally all the time, and your powers are so cool! You deserve a little extra respect.”

“If you say so,” he managed, still in a fit of disbelief. “If anything, it should be because I am elderly. Over 1,000 years old, you know,” he joked.

Indeed, you did know, and began to ask him a series of questions about things he might have experienced in history, though pausing to ramble about how you hoped you weren’t pestering and to stop you if you were, he interjected it was no bother at all. By the time you reached the third floor where his rooms resided, you were bubbling with uncontainable excitement, sharing that your new home was on the same level, just a few doors down.

Once you’d helped him deliver his things to his table, he showed you back to the door when you told him your father would be home from work at any minute, and the god thought it important to introduce himself to his new neighbor. In those few minutes, you began to shy away again, that stutter coming back, as if you’d realized anew just what exactly was happening.

Loki shook the hand of the man you’d identified as your father, a nearly middle-aged sir who was just on the cusp of graying. He exchanged a quick conversation with him that resulted in an invitation to dinner that weekend. The god was near sure you were ready to collapse with excitement when he said yes, but you managed to remain relatively calm, though there was a certain spark behind your eyes. Still, it was a school night, and you had some homework to complete, so you all said goodbye to each other and went your separate ways.

As Loki settled down for the evening in his favorite, comfy armchair with the book he’d started the night before, for the first time in a long time, he felt not so alone, and most thrilling of all, he felt appreciated.

[keanureevesisbae]

But professor… - c.8

Summary: Walter and Penny adapt to Maryland

Professor!Walter Marshall x Penny Townsend (Asian ofc)

Wordcount: 2.1k

Warnings: None

Masterlist // But professor… masterlist // Previous chapter //

Tomorrow Walter and I are going to move to Maryland and there is just one more thing I need to do: buy some snacks. My cravings have been all over the place recently, so a trip without snack is asking for trouble. Walter is packing the final things with my mom and dad and in a minute they are going to put everything in the truck and U-haul. Since I’m the only one that knows what I really want, I decided to go on a little grocery store trip.

I’m wearing an oversized sweater on top of my leggings and it’s almost the only piece of clothing that is able to hide the bump. I’m seventeen weeks pregnant now, meaning the bump is harder and harder to hide, however this sweater will do. The chances of me running into someone I actually know is next to zero, but better be safe than sorry.

I walk into the grocery store and grab a basket, slowly filling it with what I want. ‘There she is,’ I hear a voice say, one I haven’t heard in so long and certainly haven’t missed.

Fitzgerald.

Every hair in my neck stands up straight. I simply pull my lips into an awkward smile, before walking off to the register. As I’m scanning the products, he actually follows me and I hate how this guy never understands the message, spoken or unspoken.

‘So, you haven’t been coming to classes,’ he says.

‘I know,’ I say, ‘I quit. Been looking into some other things.’

That is already more than I actually wanted to share with him, but hopefully it’s enough to make him go away.

‘Oh really? What you been looking into?’

Just fuck off, Fitzgerald. ‘First of all moving back home,’ I say, packing everything in my bag. ‘New York never really was the place for me.’ After paying for my snacks, I walk out of the store, only to hear the footsteps of the guy who just won’t leave me alone following behind me.

‘Did you hear that professor Marshall is quitting?’

Yes, I actually helped him writing his resignation letter. ‘Oh,’ I say, ‘I didn’t.’

‘Apparently he got a job offer somewhere else.’

Yep, in Maryland. ‘Good for him,’ I say. ‘Well, I gotta go. Bye, Fitzgerald.’

He wants to say something, but then his eyes widen. ‘Yeah, bye,’ he says. He quickly turns around and is gone by the time I looked over my shoulder at him.

What was that about?

When I look up, I glare at Walter, who is standing on the other side of the road, leaning against a street light, his arms crossed. I walk up to him and without saying a word at first, we get mixed into the crowd. ‘What was that about?’ I ask him.

‘Nothing,’ he says, a little too nonchalant for my liking, ‘just wanted to make sure that you weren’t carrying anything too heavy.’ He pulls the bags from my hands and adds: ‘I hate that snotty kid.’

‘I had everything under control,’ I say, poking his side. ‘Did you see him scooting away?’

‘I wish I had it on video,’ Walter chuckles.

My parents are already in the U-haul they rented to make moving as quickly and easy as possible for us and I hand them some snacks.

‘Oh, honey, I’m so glad you’re moving back,’ mom says, after our final pee. Walter just handed over the key to the realtor of his loft and stands behind me, before he says: ‘I know I am happy to move to Maryland. I quite love the place already.’ He presses a kiss on my temple.

My parents get in the U-haul and I wave to them as they drive off. Walter helps me in the truck and when he sits next to me, he gives me a kiss. ‘I love you,’ he tells me.

‘I love you too, Walter.’ I take off my sweater, before strapping myself in the seatbelt. ‘It’s ridiculously hot in here,’ I say, leaning back against the seat.

‘Twenty bucks you are gonna be cold within half an hour.’

I glare at him. ‘That’s mean.’

‘Ah, princess, don’t pout. You know how that makes me weak.’ I continue to tut my bottom lip out and he chuckles. ‘Let’s just hope the baby doesn’t get your pout, because otherwise I can never say no.’

‘No matter what the baby looks like,’ I say, ‘you’re gonna be unable to say no anyway. You are such a push over with me, this baby will wrap you around their finger in no time.’

‘Ai, exposed.’ He holds my hand in his as he drives off and gives me a kiss on my knuckles.

‘You thought about the co sleeping thing I mentioned to you?’ I ask him.

He sighs. ‘Yes and I’m not sure about it. I mean, we could place a crib in our room, right?’

‘But that’s so sad for the baby. To be alone like that after living inside my stomach for so long. What if they don’t be to be alone? They are not gonna sleep in our bed forever, Walter.’

‘I know,’ he says, ‘but… what if I crush them? I mean, they would be in between us, so… That means no sleep for me.’

I start to laugh. ‘That was your worry? Oh, Walter.’ Since I’m already close to him, I wrap my arms around his neck to give him a kiss on his cheek. ‘Aren’t you absolutely darling?’

I actually spot a faint blush on his cheeks.

I decide not to push it any further, because I feel like this co sleep thing is something that needs to simmer for awhile. ‘Can I ask a question?’ I ask.

He nods. ‘Of course.’

‘What if something goes wrong,’ I start, but he is having none of it.

‘No, no, no, nothing is gonna go wrong.’

‘But what if?’ I say. ‘I mean, something could go wrong during birth.’

He clenches his jaw, not wanting to talk about it obviously. ‘I see,’ he mumbles.

‘What I wanted to say was that if I am unable to answer, that you should decide what happens, okay? I’m one hundred percent sure you are going to choose the right thing for us.’

He smiles. ‘That’s what you wanted to tell me?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Oh, princess, princess, don’t scare me like that, okay?’

I smile. ‘Sorry.’

✎ ✎ ✎

Walter and I bought a house and never in a million years did I expect to have this type of domestic life at only twenty one, however it’s exactly the life I have now and I wouldn’t change it for the world. The move from New York and Maryland went pretty swiftly, especially because my parents helped a lot, since it’s only twenty minutes from my parents’ place.

The place we chose was already pretty great, but Walter and I decided—okay, I decided—that some wallpaper should cheer it up. It was a lot of white and it made me feel like I was at a dentist. There’s lots of pastel going on now, mint green, baby blue, soft pink and some yellow.

However, Walter did all the work, because he doesn’t want me to do anything. Too much work can’t be good for the baby, princess.

He now works at the Maryland Police Department and he is actually enjoying it a lot. He now is on patrol duties, but it will only take a few months before he is back as a detective again.

Weeks have gone by and today marks me being twenty seven weeks pregnant. I won’t lie about it, but I’m very over this pregnancy already. Everything hurts. My head hurts, my stomach hurts, my boobs hurts and don’t get me started on my back. I’m mostly sitting on the couch, reading both informative books and novels if I’m not mindlessly watching Netflix shows.

I am a horrendous cook, but I continue to try some things for Walter, because I hate it that he has to both work and cook himself some dinner when he’s off.

Walter comes back from work and smiles when he sees me. ‘There is my beautiful woman,’ he says. ‘Princess, princess, aren’t you gorgeous.’

‘Stop,’ I chuckle, trying to get up from the couch, but fail miserably. ‘I’m sorry, but dinner got burned.’

He smiles. ‘That’s okay, princess. I’ll order some take out, don’t you worry.’

‘I’m really useless,’ I admit. ‘I’m so sorry.’

He scoffs. ‘Don’t say stuff like that. You’re never useless.’ He wraps an arm around my shoulders and pulls me against his side. ‘Tell me what did you do today?’

‘I went to that meeting,’ I say, ‘talked about being a first time mom. It’s just that…’ I place my head against his shoulder. ‘I’m scared.’

‘Why is that, princess?’

‘What if I’m a terrible mom?’

‘You’re not gonna be a terrible mom,’ he retorts. ‘The audacity to think you’re gonna be a terrible mom, when I know that you are nothing but sweet, kind, lovely and you will be a wonderful mom.’

‘Really?’ I ask.

‘Really, darling.’ He places his hand on my stomach and says: ‘It’s okay to be scared, however, you have nothing to worry about. Not when I am right here for the two of you.’

✎ ✎ ✎

The next day, while my mom and I are folding some baby clothes, we watch dad and Walter finish the crib. Mom has been sharing embarrassing baby stories about me and to make things even worse, my dad adds a few stories to it, some I didn’t even know.

Thankfully Walter really enjoys them, because he chuckles loudly. It took him awhile, but he is really liking it, having my parents around.

‘You really don’t want to know the gender?’ mom asks me.

‘No,’ I say, ‘I like to be surprised.’

‘Walter,’ my mom sighs, ‘can’t you talk some sense into her?’

‘Sorry, CC,’ he says, ‘but I kinda like the surprise too.’

She scoffs, before she lets out a chuckle. The baby already made the bond between my parents and I a lot tighter and for that I’m forever grateful.

I resit a little and Walter wouldn’t be Walter if he didn’t notice immediately I was slightly uncomfortable. ‘Princess, are you okay?’

‘Yeah, just my back hurts.’

‘How about you go to bed?’ Walter suggests. ‘Rest a little? You’ve been up pretty early on.’ When I don’t stand up immediately, he walks over to me and crouches down in front of me. ‘What’s wrong, princess?’

‘Nothing, just tired and in pain, that’s all.’

He nods, pulls me up and holds my hand tightly in his. I want to apologize to my parents, but my mom simply tells me not to worry. ‘Pregnancy can be rough, darling,’ she says, ‘so please don’t worry.’

I wonder if it’s hard for my mom to see me pregnant, when she couldn’t get pregnant herself. She never said it to me, but still I wonder from time to time. Even if she does have some hard feelings against it, she never shows it, as she is super supportive of the pregnancy. I give her a kiss, just like I give my dad a kiss and mom says: ‘Walter, did you even sleep last night?’

‘No, this one woke me up,’ he says with a smile.

‘You should sleep as well. You had a late shift the day before yesterday and you two should get a lot of sleep when you can. When the baby is here, she’ll keep you up.’

‘We really don’t know the gender, mom,’ I say with a chuckle. ‘I don’t know if they are gonna be a he or a she.’

‘Worth a shot, you gotta give me that. Okay, you go rest, we finish up in here and let ourselves out. We love you.’

‘Love you too,’ I say back, before Walter and I walk towards the bedroom. He helps me out of my sweatpants and into the bed. I hug the pregnancy pillow, and the bed dips down a bit when Walter gets underneath the thin blanket behind me. He places his hand on my stomach, before kissing my temple. ‘You comfortable, sweetheart?’

‘I am,’ I whisper. ‘I’m sorry I’m keeping you up.’

‘No, don’t do that.’

It only causes me to sniffle, but Walter knows exactly what to do when I have these slight emotional outbursts. He pulls my back closer against his chest, despite him being very warm, he tugs the blankets over our bodies and warms me up even more, giving me more kisses on the side of my face. ‘It can get pretty rough, princess,’ he says, ‘and that’s okay. Just let it all out, okay?’

‘Why are you so sweet?’ I hiccup.

He chuckles. ‘Well, you’re gonna be the mom of our kid and you’re my girlfriend. Of course I’m gonna be sweet to you. Forever and ever, princess. Forever and ever.’

[lazarettta]

Misthios IV

Characters (Spartan!Reader x Mother Miranda)

Rating (T)

Word Count (3.4k)

Warnings (none I don't think)

You're up roaming around the castle and run into Miranda and Alcina.

It's been an exhausting but thrilling six months since you've gained the eye of this region's reigning ruler. Their Queen was ruthless as she was beautiful and you were quickly learning that she had a particular taste for blood that you haven't seen since your days in Sparta. Creative and cunning as she was, especially when it came to acts of revenge, but she took care of her kingdom and her people so long as they were loyal to her and her alone.

It was that last rule that forced you to discover just how cruel and destructive the mountains of Norway could be because you were tasked with chasing down a group of runaway slaves—as a punishment. This was different from your 'normal' punishments.

There was nothing special about these fucking slaves, they were just stupid enough to think it wise to steal from their Queen and then dare escape. It angered you so much that she'd send you on this quest when a small squadron of low ranked knights would've done fine.

It had taken you a week and two villages to finally catch up with them into the mountains. The conditions were harsher than what you were prepared for and you had to abandon half your gear and continue on foot. The cold was too much for your horse to handle, but he was old and you were sure to put him out of his misery before continuing on your hunt.

You'd caught them asleep in a cave a few miles away from a village that was tucked away into the mountain side. You purchased food and another horse, costing you all the silver you carried but it made your hunt easier and quicker. You hadn't been looking for the cave but a small fire through the thick of the trees caught your attention. Tying your new mare a distance away, you crept towards them, sticking to the tall grass and the shadows.

They'd all been sleeping so peacefully, even their so-called 'watcher'. It was almost too easy to just go and kill them quietly one by one...but Miranda had specific instructions for you to follow if you wanted her forgiveness. She wanted to hear them scream while she slept and that was exactly what you intended to deliver. You unsheathed one of your twin blades and with practiced ease, you swung right as the watcher’s eyes snapped open.

You were startled awake by a scream that you weren't sure if it was from your dream or if it was a real one. You sat up half way in the bed of the guest room you were put up in, leaning on your elbow ready to spring from beneath the sheets but nothing ever came. After another full five minutes of sitting and waiting with no result, you let yourself fall back onto the soft pillows and threw an arm over your eyes as they began to leak tears.

Nothing of sadness or the sort, you were simply exhausted—you were still in your clothing with your parka not too far away just in case you had to use the window for a quick escape. You even kept your boots on, even though it was too warm for you but you'd deal with it as you've been through more uncomfortable situations that couldn't even compare to simply being hot. Of course if you take off a few layers you'd be fine, but paranoia hasn't exactly been very kind to you in the past years...with good reason too. You hadn't died in over ten years and you planned to keep that streak going.

But even as those thoughts comforted you a bit, sleep evaded you—no longer finding you worthy of its pleasures and you just laid there sprawled out and tangled within the soft white linen sheets that were probably now dirty thanks to you. You didn't care. They probably had more somewhere.

Resigned to the fact that you'd probably never be able to go back to sleep, at least not any time soon, so pushed aside the heavy duvet and slipped out of the bed quietly. You moved towards the window but the only thing you could see was the few trees below and a land covered in blankets of undisturbed snow. A little further beyond the tree line, you saw smoke coming from the chimneys of the factory before you turned away from the view and left your room. You looked left and right of the hallway but there wasn't a sign of life to be found, not even that little maiden Alcina practically made your shadow. It was probably later than it actually felt and she was probably asleep...everyone probably was.

Checking your watch— ah, right. Miranda even took that. She took everything you could use as a weapon and it tickled you more than it annoyed you. Unsupervised, you can now take your time to feel your way around. You didn't get a chance to get a good look at everything before but now you did, and it was an opportunity to get to know the Lady of the castle. You'd long dismissed the thought that anything in this village was normal, it had more secrets and shadows than a horror book you guessed.

Walking through the halls of the second floor felt like a trip down memory lane—no particular region as most all castles were the same. Large and filled with fancy portraits and trinkets that could house and feed five families at a time. Carpet so plush and soft that you could feel it through your boots with each step. It absorbed your weight like a welcome home hug. Clearly Lady Alcina was a woman of finer things in life and that extended far outside of her wardrobe and preferred wines.

It just unnerved you how quiet everything was, a castle thing large and prosperous had to have staff minding it twenty four seven. Nonetheless, you finally came to the door that you recognized during your brief tour as the 'wine room'. Like everything else you'd come across, the door was finely made from dark red oak with gold trimmings—just like Alcina's stagecoach.

Without a second thought about it, you opened the door—simply with the intent of getting a better look at the wine collection the maiden mentioned during your tour. But that thought was cut short because the room wasn't as empty as the silence in the hallway led you to believe as you'd walked into a full conversation by two people; one you were hoping to avoid for a few days and the other you thought was asleep...or well away from your location. You were wrong on both accounts.

“Heisenberg is a blundering fool leading a pack of fleabags, Miranda. He is going to fail again!”

“And we don't have time to stress other options, especially that one! We're out of time already and—”

“Exactly we're out of time so just ask her—” you pushed the door open a little more and it creaked quietly.

They both turned to you and you stood frozen in the doorway, unsure of what to make of the scene in front of you or what you just overheard. Miranda and Alcina were sitting at the small table, well Miranda was, Alcina was sitting in one of her custom chairs a little further away and both women had two glasses filled with dark red wine. Alcina wasn't in her white dress anymore, instead she'd changed into a pair of dark slacks and deep red turtle neck and she was barefoot. A far cry from the regal dress she wore earlier but she still carried herself in the same manner.

You did your best not to think about how good Miranda looked without that damn mask on her face...even in those robes she still wore, Miranda was beautiful. Beautiful as the day you first met. You forced yourself to keep your attention on Alcina and not Miranda, who was now staring a hole into the side of your face like she was trying to will you into looking at her.

“Oh. Shit, I didn't know this room was occupied.”

Alcina glanced at Miranda briefly from behind her wine glass, her expression unreadable when she settled her eyes on you again, “Of course not, dear. Is everything alright?”

You cleared your throat, fighting the urge to look at Miranda because you could feel her trying to will your eyes in her direction, “No, actually I—”

You were interrupted by an ear piercing scream and high pitched laughter right behind her, on the verge of being hysterical. Lady Dimitrescu sighed heavily behind you and finished her wine before setting her glass down and rising to her full height.

“Please excuse me, it seems that my daughters are teasing the poor maids again.”

You started to comment that it didn't sound like it was teasing but you kept your mouth shut, knowing better than to stick your nose in the wrong place too soon—it never really turned out very well for you the first time. It would never cease to amaze you how fast and quiet Alcina moved despite her size, but it still baffled you that she hasn't ever gotten the doors to her own castle fixed to fit for her . But those thoughts were pushed to the far corners of your mind when the door clicked shut—leaving you alone in the room with Miranda, forcing you to acknowledge her now. You shoved your hands in your pockets and sighed, you weren't expecting to see her again so soon.

You still hadn't had time to get your shit together after the last time you two spoke, or more like argued back and forth. Easily falling into a pattern as if you hadn't been centuries apart. You still weren't sure how you were supposed to feel about that.

“Take a seat, (Y/n). Would you like a glass of wine?” Miranda broke the silence but she didn't break eye contact with you once she caught you eye, holding you as if she physically had her hands on your face. “We don't have to talk if you don't want to, (Y/n).”

“Oh, so now we're suddenly interested in what I want to do?”

“Yes, of course. Wine?”

You scoffed, rolling her eyes at her typical answer and you wanted to say no, you opened your mouth to do so but instead you were getting closer to the table she was sitting at. She poured you a glass of wine, and handed it to you. You raised an eyebrow, she couldn't have set it down for you? She insisted on handing it to you and the way Miranda was holding the glass left you no choice to place your hands over hers to take it from her. Those gold claw rings were ice cold against your skin and the edge of one nicked your skin but not deep enough to draw blood.

You had no idea what you wanted to say to Miranda, you weren't ready to talk about what you two needed to talk about but you weren't sure if you could sit here and do small talk with her over wine. It was so easy for you to get up and leave, maybe go back to your guest room and lock the door. So what was stopping you? Why was it difficult?

Miranda, who had been watching you intently, interrupted your rapid thoughts, “You always were a loud thinker, (Y/n).”

“Nothing interesting, trust me.”

“Oh I beg to differ,” Miranda chuckled, shifting in her chair slightly to angle herself towards you a little more. You sort of hated yourself for thinking how well she was pulling off the priestess look, “I could always tell what you were thinking even from a mile away. You were always quite the unique distraction.”

“You never complained before.”

“No,” she agreed, her voice dropping an octave or two lower, “though I doubt I ever will.”

You looked up, she didn't look away and you didn't know what to think. And for once, even if it was just for a moment, you saw a hint of uncertainty in her eyes.

“Miranda, what do you want? Why are you keeping me here?”

“Because we need to talk, (Y/n), to...clear the air as they say, I guess.”

“Yeah, okay, I got that part earlier,” you licked your suddenly dry lips, your nerves starting to buzz a little, “But that's not a good enough reason anymore.”

Miranda scoffed, actually rolling her eyes at you, “Why not? Closure heals the past. Doesn't it?”

“But what do you expect after that?”

“What do you?” she threw the ball back in your court as she refilled her own wine glass from a different bottle than what she used for your own, the wine she was using was a little darker and thicker. It didn't surprise you that the question was thrown back at you, she always did that when she was trying to keep the upper hand or get it.

But it didn't mean that the question wasn't a good one because what did you want after this? Would it even matter after all of this time? Have you ever forgiven her, really and truly moved on? Did she even care back then, did she care for you...or what you could do for her?

Miranda was watching you the entire time become lost in your thoughts, a trait you still carried with you. She picked up her wine glass and took a sip, her clear eyes taking you in while you were distracted enough to not notice her doing it so blatantly. You still looked the same as the last time she saw you, minus the murderous rage that had twisted your beautiful features that evening.

The modern world has touched many parts of you but your eyes still hold so much more than they did centuries ago. Being a warrior was now outdated and something of an historical myth but you still carried yourself as one, and Miranda could see new scars on your brown skin on the exposed skin she saw earlier on your neck and arms.

She'd been watching you for days before finally making herself known to you after going back and forth with herself during those agonizing days. Being far more irritable than she normally was and Miranda was positive that Lords Heisenberg and Moreau were quite sore with her at the moment. Well, Karl certainly would be. Seeing you made her angry...at first. Angry for the grief you left her with, the shatters you left her to pick up on her own.

Years of pent up thoughts and plans of revenge she'd enact when she got her hands on you came down to a single moment when she finally did get her hands on you and she couldn't do it. Miranda eyed your neck, where you should've still been bruised. She had you right where she needed you with one hand wrapped around your neck because you were so unsuspecting. It would've been so easy but she couldn't...so she knocked you out and threw you in a cell where she could keep a better eye on you. And perhaps no longer be so distracted from her work.

“Look who's thinking loud now.” you mumbled around the edge of your wine glass, finally taking a sip of the damn thing. Miranda wouldn't hesitate to bet that you assumed it was somehow poisoned even though you watched her open the bottle. “Good thoughts, I hope.”

Miranda hummed softly, “Do you really wish to know?”

You chuckled, and Miranda's eyes were drawn to the way your jaw clenched and unclenched when the wine hit your taste buds again, “With the way you were staring at my neck...it's not that hard to guess, Miranda.”

“You're only half right, my dear.” At your raised eyebrows, Miranda's smirk only widened, “My hands were wrapped around that strong neck again, but breaking it is far from my mind now .”

Your snort turned into a chuckle that was clearly infectious as Miranda joined you. Nothing was remotely that funny, if it was funny at all, but you were tired and the situation brought forth too many emotions for you, either of you to really process, and all you could was just...laugh.

Miranda was the first to sober up a bit though the smile never completely left her features. “Ah, and well... you know, it wouldn't do to try and kill the only other person on this wretched rock who knows me. Will it?”

You're very well the only person in this wretched world that will ever know the real me and still love me for it. Quite a miserable thought, isn't it?

You jumped when the door opened behind you and Alcina stepped into the room—you'd almost forgot where you were for a moment. Almost. Alcina took one look at the two of you, curious to find you actually still in the room much less sitting at the table sharing a glass of wine with Miranda. Especially with what she overheard earlier and how much tension you two create together.

Alcina knew that she interrupted something, probably something she had no business to but that did not stop her from sitting back down in her chair in her goddamn castle. And whatever drama that was happening within her territory was now her drama and she was going to get a front row seat. Alcina lit up another one of her cigarillos and pulled heavy before she released it in your direction.

“Running a business is quite the headache when no one else understands your vision, I swear. Don't have kids, (Y/n). They're messy and nothing but trouble.”

“Noted.” you forced a chuckle, not taking her bait but now you were trying to finish your wine as quickly as possible without seeming like you were trying to run.

“Well, how about it then, (Y/n)? Tell us a story, you couldn't have been a mercenary your entire life. Or have you?” You glanced at Miranda and saw that she was glaring at Alcina but the taller woman wasn't paying her any mind. And really, the only reason Miranda hasn't verbally intervened is because she was interested in your answer as well. Even if Alcina was asking just to poke at the situation for her own amusement.

“I've put away my shield and sword a long time ago,” you didn't bother to mention that you did keep them both in pristine condition just in case, “I've been enjoying the little things life has to offer.” lame. And a lie.

“Oh come now,” Alcina scoffed, not accepting your answer—it wasn't a very good one anyway, “That's—”

“Actually,” When it was clear that Miranda wasn't going to save you from this woman's nosiness (why would she?) You quickly drank the rest of the wine, it was really too sour for you, and rose from the chair. “I think I'll try to get some more sleep. Thanks for the wine and...yeah.” Could you be any more awkward?

Alcina was howling by the time the door slammed shut behind you and she took another pull from her cigarette stick, still paying no heed to Miranda's heated glare. “Oh, you're going to have to tie that one down if you want her to talk to you.”

“I will have your head if you stick your nose in my business again, Dimitrescu.”

“Then don't store your business in my castle.” Alcina shot back, meeting Miranda's glare head on but immediately conceded when she felt Miranda's growling through the vibrations of her glass in her hand that was still resting on the table. “Alright, alright...but you're always welcome to use my dungeons. Use chains though those biceps of hers could probably break through the ropes.”

“Alcina, that is enough!”

The Lady of the castle just laughed lightly until it tapered off into a pleasant hum around her famous Sanguis Virginis wine while watching Miranda readjust her face mask. Her eyes brighter than they have been the last few hours., Alcina pushed for one more question—deciding to risk Miranda's wrath, “How'd you ever let such a handsome creature slip between your fingers?”

Miranda sighed heavily, no pause in her strut to the door, “Egos and misunderstandings.” she was gone before the lock clicked into place.

I'm so sorry for being hella lazy, lol, I'll add the other chapters of this story today 😭😭😭😭

[starsheild]

Offering- Course

The confirmation that the stranger brought into the compound was indeed Prowl’s brother spurred a flurry of activity. Prowl escorted his brother to the baths to remove the built-up grime of the road. Barricade balked when Prowl led him to the first pool and urged him in.

“I’m filthy. I’ll ruin the bath.”

Prowl smiled as he urged the other forward again. “Don’t worry. Things are different here, including bathing. This pool is meant for removing the dirt from your frame. Then we'll move the next one so you can wash, then they have natural mineral spring you can soak in.”

Still doubtful, Barricade was too tired to really argue as he sank into the first pool. He had been expecting ice cold solvent to envelope his frame, and was pleasantly surprised when it was warm. Prowl’s amusement was not lost on him as his brother fetched a brush and set about helping Barricade scrub down.

“You might as well start forgetting everything you think you know about them, because neither the monsters of legends or the Polyhexians of the textbooks are close. They are neither monsters nor primitive, simply different.” Prowl informed him as he scrubbed gently at Barricade’s frame, the grime running from the plating and sento metalico in small rivers to color the solvent pool.

“They are treating you well?” Barricade questioned as he started to relax under the attention and actually studied his brother. His brother had been stripped almost naked when he had been offered as the sacrifice. The armor he wore now differed both from what he had worn before and what he worn bound on the wagon, but Prowl seemed perfectly comfortable in it. Intricate tattoos, paint he suspected, still traced parts of Prowl’s frame and helm, his breastplate, and his left arm.

“Very well. All offerings are treated well. It is an adjustment, but those I have met are all happy.” Prowl said softly. “Things here are different from Praxus, very much so. I do not miss Praxus. The only thing I missed was you. I am glad you are here, though I wish that you had not risked yourself so.”

Barricade snorted, shifting to one side at his brothers urging so that Prowl could better reach his wings and back. “How could I have stayed? Between the two of us, we have been able to manage something, but we both know I had no hope on my own. And there wasn’t anything left for me there with you gone.”

Prowl’s soft vent was an acknowledgement of the truth they both knew Barricade spoke. With a gentle nudge he directed Barricade to move again, smiling as his brother finally started to relax.

***

“‘E settled?” Jazz questioned as Prowl entered, rising to pulling his new mate into his arms for a hug before guiding Prowl to a seat.

“For now.” Prowl replied as he settled into the seat and shook his helm when Jazz motioned towards some energon waiting on a side table. “No, but thank you for preparing some for me. I fueled with Barricade. It helped him.”

“Why’s ‘e here? Really jus’ lookin’ for ya?” Jazz questioned, agitated enough that he still kept to his pedes. As much as he wanted it to be true for Prowl’s sake, just seeing how happy his new mate was his brother recharging nearby, he couldn’t help but doubt. Couldn’t help but echo the doubts of all who heard what had happened.

“Yes. Looking for me…” Prowl said, wings drooping in sadness. “There is nothing left for him in Praxus, Less than nothing, even. I knew he was-is-hard helmed, but I honestly did not think he would do something this drastic.”

“Less ‘n nothin’?” Jazz echoed the bit that had really caught his attention.

“Our creators are gone. They perished during the last quake that shook Praxus. They worked in the same building. The building caved in.” Prowl’s servos clenched on his knees, his helm bowed. All that he did not, could not put into words flooded through his field in waves of grief and anger. Grief at the loss and how it had hurt both him and Barricade, and the fallout that had stemmed from the loss.

A loss that never would have occurred if those who were supposed to be in charge of such things in Praxus actually paid attention to things like building maintenance and working conditions, and put the funds where they actually belonged.

“We have no other family. My originator was a single creation, and we never met his creators. My progenitor was estranged from his family. Barricade met them once, I guess, but I never did. We were never of any real standing, socially or economically, but with them gone we had even less.” Prowl explained.

“Still, ‘e seems stubborn ‘nough to survive even that.” Jazz mused, pulling a stool over and reaching out to stroke a wing comfortingly. “‘E would’ve made it, ah bet.”

Prowl leaned into the touch, his servos easing open as his field softened, resignation and affection replacing the grief and anger. “I am sure he would have, by himself. But there is a reason beyond the condition that he was found in that I requested Ratchet come as soon as he is available.”

Jazz tensed, frowning, but before he could prod Prowl continued.

“He is carrying.”

[argumentl]

The Freedom of Expression Ep 56 - Dir en grey live with audience scheduled! and, Thinking about the aftermath of inappropriate remarks.

K: Hi, this is Dir en grey's Kaoru, with this week's episode of The Freedom of Expression. Joe, Tasai, welcome. Um, I think it was two days ago, Dir en grey announced that we will do a live show.

T, J: *applause*

T: How long has it been?

K: Well, as for proper lives, its been since last year in February when we were on the European tour. We did do the no-audience lives since then, but as for lives with an audience, thats how long its been.

T: Its a big decision, isn't it?

J: Yeah, and people have been waiting, right?

K: Well, I think people will have a lot of opinions about it, and its a bit hard to say to people, 'Please come!'... Well, as for why we havn't been doing lives, of course its because of corona..there was a risk there. As for the live venues, within these restrictions we weren't sure whether we would be able to complete the type of show we wanted to do...Like, the audience can't use their voice etc. So I was a little concerned when I thought about that, but at the same time, it's strange to say 'it can't be helped', but I thought we could at least try it once. You know, like a live show within these restrictions. We might even get some new feeling or new atmosphere out of it that we've never had before. I mean, we might not, but like, rather than not doing it and worrying, we could just give it a try once, and it might even turn us in some new direction. Then after we do it, we can think about what to do next.

J: I see. Yeah, if you spend all your time thinking it over, nothing will happen, right?

K: Yeah. Well, its not bad to do that though, I just wonder whether we might be able to create a new kind of experience in this way. We won't know if we don't try..

Kami: Um, if you don't try, you won't be able to say what it was like, will you?

K: Well, yeah, thats right. I'd like to experience it.

T: Yeah, within the restrictions, see what type of performance you can create.

K: Well, and people are slowly beginning to restart this kind of thing.

Kami: Um, doesn't it kind of feel like having a school fieldtrip, but being sick so you couldn't go, and then afterwards feeling sad that you missed out?

T: Haha

K: No, its not like that.

T, J: Hahaha

J: Nearly, Kami.

T: Yeah, nearly.

Kami: I didn't get it.

J: Your example was very easy to understand, but it was wrong.

T, K: Haha

Kami: Ok.

K: Well, well, I mean, it wasn't the right example, but the feeling is similar I suppose.

Kami: Ah! See, it is similar! I was right!

J: Oh, Im sorry Kami.

T: Haha

K: So, we're gonna do it. So for anyone who wants to experience this, I'd like you to come and see us... Ok, well..

J: Yes, today's topic is...well, this topic is a little old already, its about Mori Yoshio and the Olympic committee. He has made a run of problematic comments like 'if there are a lot of women, the meetings will last longer', and 'famous people could carry the Olympic torch only through rice fields', and has been forced to resign. Well, this has been big news, but well, this program is about 'The Freedom of Expression', so from that perspective, could you not say that he just slipped up? He slipped up, but shouldn't he still have freedom of expression? Of course, I think these were careless remarks, uttered without a sense of responsibility, but whats the best way to deal with a situation like this? What about just telling the person in question to stop it? Is that enough? So, thats the theme today, in regards to freedom of expression, of course you are free to say what you want, but what should be done if what you say is thoughtless, or clearly at odds with the common view in society? Is it ok to just criticize the comments only? So its quite a serious topic about the freedom of expression today.

T: Well, as for me, if I had to say...I'd say im in the 'if it creates further discussion then its ok' camp. Um, he's a tv celeb now, but do you remember when Sugimura Taizō won his first election? He said, 'I want to go to the high-class restaurants', you know, like political meetings at high-class restaurants? And he was criticized a lot for that. But when I interviewed him in person, I asked him about how he had felt at that time, he said he was simply just curious about whether this type of thing really went on in the world of politics. It was a pretty innocent thing, but when he said it, he was called into question massively. Thats what he said when I asked him. So I don't really think we will make any progress in situations like this, if we don't stop and think about why a person might say things before we launch an attack.

J: I see. Kaoru, what do you think?

K: Nothings come out it in terms of making a bad thing better. I think its a good thing to start a discussion out of it afterwards.

J: Yeah

K: Of course if its wrong, its wrong, but it seems natural to ???*1

J: This all reminds me of this difficult word we hear in the media a lot, 'political correctness'. Like, being forced into the political medium ground, and if you ever make a small mistake with what you say, you'll be accussed of being wrong. People are scared of being targeted like this...Even when you see press conferences, people will only ever talk about thier own position, so as an observer, even press conferences get boring. I'd like people to speak their raw words more, I want to hear what they really think. But if they did, they would be accused of saying the wrong thing. Its like you said Kaoru, if their mistake was shared it might end up heading in a better direction, but if people just immediately and triumphantly scream, 'Thats wrong!', then I have a feeling its gonna carry on like this forever. Its important to think about whether the mistake can be repaired. Anyone makes mistakes. Whatever you say, it will be different from what some other people think. And rather than fixing the mistake, I think some people see it as a game of winning or losing.

K: You can't just say 'sorry', can you?

J: No, you can't. Why is that??

K: This type of person (*Mori*) can't say it for some reason.

J: Like, 'I'M SORRY, I'M REALLY SORRY FOR WHAT I SAID!!

K: ??*2

J: Then they would understand their mistake, and be able to fix it. I think that would be ok!

T: Yeah, we should give people a chance. If you don't point out their mistake, and let them say sorry..

J: Even though it would be good to create that kind of grown-up environment, with everyone on the attack so much these days, people are so cautious about what they say now, the press conferences are more like rituals. Its become a kind of never-ending ritualistic exchange.

K: If nothing is done, Mori will never learn, right?

J: Thats right.

K: If someone just tells him he needs to change his ideas, he can take that to heart..well, did he?

J: Haha, well, I don't know, when he's that old, I don't know. But I think he probably felt something, surely. Also, we ourselves are getting old, and when we get that old, some stuff that was correct for our generation will suddenly become wrong, right? We could say something, and people would be like, 'Eh?!', even though it was fine for our generation. We are bound to be caught up like this eventually. Honestly, there will be people who saw this press conference with Mori, who didn't realise what was wrong at first. You know, with Mori's remarks.

T: People from his generation may even sympathise with him, they might not understand.

J: Yes, yes, yes. But if it was made into a public discussion, they might start to understand the problem. There might be people in that generation who don't understand that saying this type of thing about women is complete prejudice.

T: But as you said Kaoru, when people get that old, the don't like saying sorry.

K: Ah, yeh.

T: So, I want people to be aware of the discussion that can happen after that.

J: It just makes me think eventually, we'll be in that generation. It will happen to us.

T: You might say this type of thing, Joe.

J: Yeah.

K: You already do, don't you?

J: Maybe. I might have harrased people without realising it. I might have said things to people which I thought would make them happy, but actually made them think I was really annoying.

K, T: Ah, yeah.

J: When you're in that kind of position with a huge public stage, you will suffer huge effects, but when you're in my kind of position, its not as decisive, so there is a possibility I'm also doing that. Its possible Im becoming like Mori.

T: Will your radio listerners be saying, 'Joe always says that kind of thing!'?

J: Yeah, now you mention it, Hiranabe was pretty bad. haha

T: Yeah, you could just write Hiranabe here instead of Mori, and it would fit. haha

J: Haha, he would definitely say that kind of thing. So, anyway, yeah, we have to be careful with this.

K: Well, even just discussing it like this is a good step.

J: It is, yes. Ah..Kami is quiet today.

Kami: Well, I thought this was pretty bad.

J: It was bad?　

Kami: Yeah, a long time ago I used to say things about women, and I got a fierce backlash, and realised I was wrong.  Um, it was a road trip with a few adults to an onsen, we went in a few different cars. During the drive I was talking about how women always take ages in the toilet, and one of them said that she is actually really quick in the toilet.

J, T: Haha

Kami: It was possibly bad timing that she started to need the toilet just then. She said she'd be quick, so asked us to stop at the next convenience store, so we stopped at some place like that. And I was like, 'Eh?! Already?! You're back?!'. She was so fast! So after that, I repented, I realised it wasn't the same for everyone. Then I gave up the front passenger seat for her.

J: Hahaha

T: What kind of story is this?! Kami thinks the front passenger seat is some kind of treat?

Kami: Well, anyway, that happened to me. People usually have this image that women take a long time in the toilet, don't they?

J: Yeah.

T: Are they fixing their make-up and stuff?

J: Some might be, yeah.

K: Well, men also have the stand-up option, right?

Kami: I realised at that time that it all depends on the person.

J: I see.

T: Ah, thats good, Kami learned something new?

Kami: Yeah.

J: Yeah, in regards to toilets.

K: If you took a long time in the toilet at school, they used to say you were doing a poo, right?

J: Ah yeh. You had to do it quickly, or they would be saying it all day. They would be saying like, 'This guy did a poo'. I wonder what its like for kids these days? 

T: Yeah, I'd like that to disappear. I want the toilet to be peaceful.

K: You felt something was coming if you went in the stall, right?

J: Yeah, they would throw water over the top, and shout 'This guy's doing a poo!'.

T: Yeah, yeah.

J: What was that all about?!

T: Well, I think boys' toilets should all be just individual stalls.

J, K: Ahh, yeh.

J: So you can't tell whether someones doing a no.1 or a no.2?

K: But recently there are people who sit on the toilet on their phones not actually pooing, aren't there?

T: There are, yeah. Even if I'm outside desperate to go.

J: Yeah, you can tell they aren't even trying to go, or they've already finished. Its totally silent in there. Or you suddenly hear them answering their phone. Its like, 'Hey! That cubucle is for doing a poo!'.

T: This is a big problem amongst men.

J: It is.

K: Ok, shall we finish on that note, haha. Please subscribe. Thank you very much.

*1,2 Couldn't catch/figure out.

To top

[dwaynepride]

better off running wild

summary: college au. reader is supposed to be tutoring tony, but things get carried away.

words: 3,360

warnings: make out session

tags: @stanathanxoox​ @pageofultron​  @jrenn10​ @andreasworlsboring101 @dressed-up-just-like-z1ggy​ @ms-allenbrown​ @ikbenplant​ @dylpickles1267​ @diaryofafan17​ @specialagentlokitty​

There’s just something you’ve always hated about jocks. 

Most of them were alright, admittedly. Those who mostly kept to their own giant friend circles and didn’t pay you much attention. There’s even a basketball player in one of your classes who gave you part of his lunch during lecture, which was pretty cool. 

But the sentiment of disliking jocks, while cliche, is never so prominent than on Wednesday afternoons. 

“Hurry up, Slowpoke. I got practice at four.” Tony’s broad chest is pressing against your shoulder, pushing himself into your space. All it earns him is an elbow to the gut, and the sound of him grunting is strangely satisfying.

“I can only write so fast,” you snap back to him. With a huff, you continue to scribble your name down on the library’s guest sheet. Once upon a time, you had a peacefully available Wednesday afternoon schedule. Sometimes, you’d go to the coffee shop to study and work. Other times, you might just head back to your dorm and catch a quick nap.

Nowadays, because Professor Gibbs decided you were the best for the job, you get to hang out in the library tutoring Tony DiNozzo.

As if the Professor couldn't have paired you off with anybody less annoying, less eager to actually learn, or any more inclined not to run off at the mouth about his favorite movie that you’ve never even heard of before. And sure, Tony was hot. Jaw-droppingly gorgeous with big shoulders and a great smile and nice hair and somehow, that all just made him even more annoying because he knew he was a 12 out of 10.

Case in point, when you finally step away so he could sign his name, Tony smiled and winked. Probably a reflex for him to flirt with anything that moved or whatever. You’ve been dealing with it for weeks. 

So with a cross huff, you turn and walk off in the direction of your usual table.

The table is located at the very back of the library - a stuffy little corner nobody came around or even acknowledged and it’s worked wonders for Tony’s attention span. Out among the other tables, he just got too distracted - flagging down and talking to whichever one of a thousand friends he has, or attempting to chat up some poor girl who was trying to study. 

It’s sad, really, that you have to tuck him away in some dusty corner for Tony to focus, but it's where you are now.

By the time Tony shows up, you have all the books and papers laid out on the table for the tutoring session. “Did you do the homework last night?” You ask him without even looking up.

He’s quiet for a moment, slowly making his way around you to his own seat. “I did some of it,” Tony answers eventually.

“Some?”

“Yeah. I had a party to go to. Couldn’t finish it.”

Tony plops down in his chair, tilts his head up, and puts on that familiar glamorizing smile - probably hoping it would keep you from scolding him. Maybe before, that smile might’ve weakened you a bit. Not now, though. Not after dealing with his bullshit for nearly two months every single Wednesday afternoon. 

You sit with a deadpan frown. “So a party is more important than your grades, huh?”

Tony blinks and shrugs. “Well, this party was. You really should come along to one, sometime. Have some actual fun.”

This isn’t the first time Tony had tried persuading you into attending one of his dumb parties. Or even wanted to drag you along to his football games under the guise of it being fun and ‘the college experience.’ There was even a time where he called you in the middle of the night and asked if you wanted to go get drinks with him. As if you hadn’t been cramming all night for an exam.

Frustrating and irresponsible. How Tony DiNozzo even got into this school, you’ll never understand. 

“Let’s just work, okay? The test is this Friday and I doubt you’re prepared.”

He shrugs and, shockingly, doesn’t argue. And for the next hour or so, you talk him through his half-finished homework. But this was probably the most frustrating aspect about tutoring Tony - he wasn’t stupid. Not by a long shot. He understood the work and actually got the questions right, if he tried. He could easily pass the class on his own. 

Yet, you’re left tutoring him.

Once the homework is done, Tony slams his book shut with a smug smile. “Alright, Teach, I’m done. Am I free to go?”

You shake your head and bend over to reach for something in your backpack. “Not yet,” you answer him. “I went by Professor Gibbs’ office yesterday and picked something up that will help you on the test.”

Taking out a small packet of papers, you place it in front of Tony. He studies it, eyebrows furrowed together, until you speak up. “It’s a practice test for the exam. I was thinking you could take it, I’ll grade it, and we’ll see what you need to work on.”

Immediately, Tony lets out a loud groan - much too loud for a library, but really, you two were so far removed from everybody else that you doubt anybody even heard. Still, you glance around at the dusty bookshelves before roughly shoving Tony’s shoulder. “Don’t be a baby! I’m trying to help you pass this fucking class. Do I have to remind you that if you fail, you don’t get to play football? I’m doing you a favor by tutoring you - the least you can do is try.”

The rant just spilled out without anything to keep it back. Maybe Tony’s antics had slowly chipped away at your patience. 

And for once, he was quiet. Tony blinks his surprise at your tone, his gaze drops, and then he nods. “Yeah, I know. I’m sorry, I’ll do the test.” Resigned, he pulls the packet closer and starts working. Really working.

You’re left in shock that you just won so easily. Usually, Tony attempts to shrug you off, or he changes the subject, or just tries to flirt his way out. Seeing him actually working - trying - is a strange sight to see.

As the minutes tick by, you try to keep yourself busy as Tony works. Go on your phone, do some reading, go to the bathroom. But in the end, your focus just keeps shifting back to Tony - his eyes sharp with focus, and the furrow of his brow showcases just how much he’s paying attention to the practice test. 

But it’s not all you notice.

And….alright, you aren’t blind. You’re well aware that Tony looks good; how else does he get so many dates? You notice the way his jaw clenches tight. Every once in a while, he takes a deep breath and his whole body moves and you’re reminded of just how big his shoulders are. He must be one hell of a football player - not that you’d know. You’ve never gone to his games.

He’s got a cute nose, as well. Not that you’d ever tell him that.

And suddenly, before you could realize you were staring, Tony’s eyes meet yours. Flustered, you look away - but even out of the corner of your eye, his smirk is visible. “I’m done,” he says, handing over the packet. 

But as you go to take it, Tony pulls it just out of your reach. So you look back to him, and he’s watching you in that annoying Tony DiNozzo way. Like he’s finally figured you out. “I want a wager, though,” he continues.

“A wager,” you repeat.

“Yup. If I pass, I get to kiss you. Is that a deal?”

Kiss?

The word barely makes sense to you, right now. You’re left blinking and scoffing - a buffer to try to make sense of Tony’s words until finally, you can come up with actual words to say. “What if you failed?” Oh yes, brilliant; act like you’re going to go along with his stupid wager. That’s what you want. 

Tony’s smirk widens. “If I failed, I’ll walk back to my dorm in my underwear,” he announces. “Either way, you win.”

You ignore the sudden onslaught of butterflies and yank the packet out of his hands. “Fine. Deal. Maybe if I’m lucky, it'll be raining when we leave.”

Tony simply hums, unbothered by your insinuation that he’ll lose. And as you start grading the practice test, you can feel his eyes on you. It’s hard to focus and with a rush of heat, you realize that he must’ve felt you staring at him before. And your staring had been a complete accident - Tony is purposefully watching you. And you just pray that he doesn’t notice the new flush of your skin.

Instead, you force yourself to focus on Tony’s test. Something easier for you to understand.

7) When did the Minoan Civilization end?

Tony’s answer: The Bronze Age Collapse. 

Okay, that one is correct. Fair enough, it’s not even that hard of a question. Next one:

8) The City of Rome was founded in:

Okay, he’s got to get this one wrong. In all the time you’ve been tutoring Tony, there was one kind of date you knew he was terrible with, and it was the historical kind. 

His answer: 753 BC. 

Damn.

And it just kept going on like that. More correct answers than incorrect. Even when you finished grading his test, you didn’t want to look up and face him and admit that he totally passed the practice exam with flying colors. That would also mean confessing that he won his stupid little wager.

“How’d I do?” He eventually asks. And his voice is low; very different from his annoyingly loud and boisterous self that you can’t help but look up. 

He’s watching you carefully, like you have his undivided attention. It’s a little unnerving, but at the same time, maybe a little exhilarating. And you don’t even have the mind to wonder why.

And it takes a moment to remember how to speak. “You passed,” you tell him, matching his soft tone. Perhaps if Tony were acting normal, you would’ve added on a teasing comment. Something about him getting a good score against all the odds, or maybe comparing him to the second coming of Albert Einstein. Then Tony would say something equally stupid and he’d leave because he has his precious football practice. 

None of that happens - this is uncharted territory.

He hums again, slow and purposeful, as if he’s thinking. And you notice him lean over just a little, on the very outskirts of what’s considered your own personal space. You catch a whiff of his scent and almost catch yourself leaning away from him.

Is this why Tony is so popular? Because he has his own gravitational pull? That must be it. 

“Looks like I won the wager,” he says with a smirk pulling on his lips. “I believe you owe me a kiss.”

His words make you hesitate. Was he serious? Tony DiNozzo: football star, annoying heart throb, everybody’s friend….actually wanted to kiss you? It has to be some kind of dumb joke. A sick prank. Something to tell his friends later on that he scammed you into kissing him and all he had to do was stop playing dumb.

Immediately, it becomes easier to lean away from Tony. To break out of the spell that his eyes had somehow cast onto you. His expression changes, but you ignore it. “Did you plan this?”

“Plan what?”

“Making a stupid bet to get me to kiss you. It’s a joke, isn’t it? A prank that you and your dumb football buddies thought up? Well, it’s not very damn funny.”

You don’t even attempt to hide the anger in your voice. Tony’s eyebrows furrow together, looking confused but you ignore him to start hurriedly gathering your stuff up. You’ll just have to go to Professor Gibbs tomorrow and ask him to assign a new tutor for Tony - if he even needs one. Seems like he can manage himself just fine.

You’re stuffing a textbook into your bag while Tony juggles with his words. “What? Hey- hold on, it’s wasn’t a joke or anything-”

“Right. And you just want me to kiss you.”

“What if I do?”

Immediately, your eyes whip back around to face Tony. The way he straightens up does offer a tiny bit of satisfaction, admittedly. “You don’t, Tony. And that’s fine, I don’t really care. I’m sure you can find someone else to kiss if you really wanted to,” you tell him blatantly. 

“I know I can,” fucking typical, “but I want it to be you.”

Slowly, you cease packing up your things. The next time you look at Tony, you really look at him. He looks serious enough; though, you’re not even sure if you’ve ever seen a serious Tony DiNozzo. But you reckon this might be it. And if he’s being serious, maybe he’s being honest.

“Did you even really need a tutor?”

He shrugs, and a smirk falls on his lips. Not condescending, but almost like your question amused him. You’re not sure which is worse. “Maybe not. But hey, you make history a whole lot more interesting,” he answers, voice smooth and sounding like the regular Tony that you know.

It makes you scoff lightly. Eyes breaking away, but he tilts his head to keep the contact. “Listen, you don’t have to kiss me if you don’t want to. But I think you do. And I know I want to, so…”

You finally stop and think about things. The way he lured you into tutoring him was very....clever, in a way. Putting himself in your domain instead of dragging you kicking and screaming into his. Tony is definitely a lot smarter than he lets on, and it leaves you wondering how the hell you let him get the edge on you, like this. 

But he was also right - you did want to kiss him. Desperately. And you didn’t even really know it until just now. Looking at him, your eyes drop down to his smirking lips. And as he starts to lean in closer, you don’t pull away like last time. Once again, you’re caught up in his gravity. Being pulled in helplessly, as if he’s a massive blackhole in the middle of your solar system.

Tony’s close now, so you fight to grab onto any sense of logical thought. “Tony,” you murmur out his name. He hums in response. “I don’t wanna turn out like all your other dates. You show ‘em a good time, and then never call them again.” You watch his eyes flicker up in surprise. “I know about all that.”

He hesitates, and then huffs in amusement. “‘Course I’ll call you. Gonna need help on that final exam, aren’t I?”

Another dumb joke, but you’re not too focused on dissecting the implications of his words. He’s so close, you can smell his cologne. It’s a little strong but also dizzying and once his warm breath wafts over your lips, you can’t help but let your eyes fall shut. A silent invitation that Tony gladly accepts.

His lips are warm and wet against yours, and they feel like fireworks. 

Yes, the thought of Tony’s many dates and flings had made you a little wary. But right now, you’re thankful for each and every one of them. The way Tony kisses...it just melts the world away. No more dusty bookshelves or crappy library lights. No hushed laughter from a group of girls that you’ve been hearing for the past hour. This corner of the library is a tiny world that only you and Tony inhabit, if for a short time.

He’s steadily stoking a fire in your stomach, even if he doesn’t know it. It gets stronger when Tony hums against your lips and raises a hand to fit along your cheek - his palm is big and warm and the feel of it nearly makes you shiver. 

And then Tony laughs, and you wonder if you really did shiver.

But the detour was brief - he goes right back to kissing you good. Sucking on your bottom lip for a moment, stops, and then waits for you to want more from him. You don’t even know when your fingers found their way into his hair, but Tony groans a bit. The sound of him goes straight to the pit of your gut.

His lips are relentless. Barely giving you a chance to breathe and by the time you notice his hand has vanished from your cheek, your lungs are aching slightly. And before you can wonder too much, the hand is suddenly on your thigh.

The touch was unexpected. Shocking, even, but definitely not unpleasant. His hand is large and strong and when he squeezes the flesh of your thigh, you can’t help but moan just a little against Tony’s mouth. The moan, of course, was completely accidental and it sends a hot wave up into your face because you know he heard that. 

But he seemed to like it. Tony’s grinning, and his hand squeezes your thigh again. Maybe it wasn’t all too embarrassing. “I like the way you sound,” he rumbles out. When he comes in to kiss you again, his hands slowly slides up. Just an inch, but it feels like a mile and you’re trying really hard not to start writhing under his touch. “Like the way you taste, too.”

Fuck, he can’t be talking right now. Not when his kisses and his touches are already doing so much to turn your body into putty in his hands. Everything’s hot and burning when he moves his fingers up another half-inch, dangerously close to the sensitive part of your inner thigh. 

By now, you’re nearly panting. Fingers gripping Tony’s forearm so tight, you’re surprised it hasn’t hurt him. What’s worse, you don’t even know why you’re holding onto him or what you want him to do: stop, or keep going. Evidently, Tony’s in the same boat. Because he leans in real close, his breath wafting over your ear. “What’re you thinking? Wanna see how quiet you can be?” He asks, voice lowered to a harsh whisper.

You force your brain to start working, and you try to decide. You really, really try. But the choice is stolen from you.

“Hey, this is a library. Get some space between you two!”

Of fucking course the librarian picks this time to come around to this desolate little corner.

Instantly, you shove Tony away, eyes dropping away from him and the librarian. “Sorry,” Tony says, not sounding particularly apologetic. Eventually, the librarian walks off. And his entire focus is back on you. And for a moment, you wonder if he's about to start up where he left off. Or maybe ask if you’d want to go back to his dorm. You don’t even know what your answer would be - yes? No? Can you have both at once? 

“Tony-”

“I got practice,” he cuts in. His smile is back as he leans in for another quick kiss. But Tony doesn’t back away too fast. He stays, and when he speaks, his breath is on your lips once again - something so small, but already so addicting. “You really should come to one of my parties sometime. I think you’d have a lot of fun.”

With that, he straightens up, picks his backpack off the ground, and walks off. Once he’s disappeared behind the bookshelves, you’re left alone at the table. Surrounded by books and papers and still finding it hard to breathe.

Were you still going to ask Professor Gibbs for a new tutor? Maybe not.

Was your decision entirely influenced by Tony and his lips and the warm imprint of his hand on your thigh? It’s possible.

But as you continue to gather up your supplies - hands shaky and legs a little wobbly - you can’t stop thinking about what might have happened if the librarian hadn’t walked up when he did.

[angrylittletrashpanda]

Madoc falling for Oriana - part I - The Wedding (the TFOTA FANFIC)

She was much younger than him – in fact, young enough to be his daughter. For jaded courtiers, always thirsty for amusement, their sumptuous wedding reception was just one more occasion to celebrate. Oriana, attired in her splendid gown, shining like mother-of-pearl, made a truly beautiful bride – gently flushed, petite and serene, she provided a sharp contrast with her stern-faced, awe-inspiring, sturdy betrothed. The folks were full of wonder how came  King Eldred’s former consort, a lady in her 120th year,  looked like a fair maiden, sweet, innocent and slightly terrified she was about to become a woman. But for Oriana’s swollen belly, piercing through mellow folds of her robe, the faerie woman could have been easily taken for a chaste young girl, who had never been with a man before. Her pregnancy, however, was a subject of persistent rumors as well as a matter of levity in the High Court. It was long known General Madoc intended to remarry, yet no one suspected the redcap who had dishonored his house, making a mortal his bride, would have the gall to court one of the High King’s former mistresses. And yet the lovely lady had not only agreed to become his wife, but also let him taste her charms before they even tied the proverbial knot. Faerie nobles might have had considered themselves witty end percipient, but none of them came close to learning the truth about Oriana and a baby in her womb.

During the Beilager there was no end to singing really dirty songs, meaningful glances and pointed remarks about the grand general’s fierce affection to his bride and fruits of love the newlyweds were about to gather soon. Sitting in his marriage bed with a beautiful woman by his side Madoc felt like an idiot and wished this farce was over. A crowd of faeries, gathered in his chamber was visibly astir and agitated – after all it is not every day you see the fearsome grand general, one of the most powerful warriors of Elfhame, perching in the sheets with a laurel crown on his brow. Corner of his eye, the redcap glanced at his bride. Oriana was enduring this nightmarish spectacle with dignity, as if she was an actual princess. While he was just clenching his fists, wishing all the noble guests dropped dead. A jolt of sharp pain drove Madoc’s heart through when he was looking at a dainty woman sitting by his side. Earlier that day, when the grand general had taken his lady in his arms and carried her across the threshold of his house, he had felt as if he had been holding a child. Oriana was small, fragile and very likely not to survive giving birth, yet nevertheless she had a courage to chance her arm and, if the need be, give lose her life for Liriope’s son. Her attitude essentially didn’t differ much from simple philosophy of a soldier. But for trembling corners of Oriana’s mouth, the redcap’s bride looked like the happiest woman in the entire Elfhame. As if reading her husband’s mind, the fairy lady batted her eyelashes and lowered her gaze. Se seemed ashamed and full of anticipation.

“An exceptional actress,” – The Grand General thought, not without bitter irony, “Or perhaps all of them have to be good actresses, shapeshifters or something of that sort, if they want to survive in the High Court?” – He wondered.

“They have all gone, my lord,” – Madoc’s musing was interrupted by sweet, yet unusually high-pitched voice. He didn’t know when exactly had Oriana settled between his parted legs.

“Do you intend to…?” – She asked softly, pressing this ridiculously tiny hand of hers against his bare chest. The grand general looked at his wife’s face – there wasn’t even a shadow of fear or disgust in her almond-shaped, pink eyes, full of immense sadness and resignation. Madoc glanced at a woman, again and vehemently shook his head, then stood up, picked one of his shirts from his mahogany closet and carefully wrapped her in it. Oriana shivered.

“Don’t worry, I am not going to force myself on you. Your body belongs only to you, and all I need from you is your loyalty,” – He whispered and knelt before his wife, taking her hands in his. “Shh, what’s wrong with you?” – the redcap asked, anxiously looking at tears, welling in her eyes.  “Everything’s fine, hear me? Why are you crying? Did I offend you?” – Madoc insisted. Oriana shook her head. “Then why are you crying?”

“I was told you always take what you want, not even bothering with asking for permission,” – She gasped.

“And that’s why you’re crying?” – The redcap frowned. “Have I let you down?” -He added ironically. “One never knows what do you, females want! Sometimes your fantasies are truly sick, as it turns out!” -Madoc exclaimed impatiently. Oriana cringed and sobbed again. “Come on, easy. I just said that, because I’m simply surprised a woman like you could dream of…” “You’re mistaken, my lord,” – the fairy lady said with dignity. The Grand General looked at his wife, startled.

“Well, what's all this about, then?”

“I’m just so relieved, my lord. They may say you’re a bloodthirsty monster, but I know in your heart of hearts, you’re  a very good man.”

“I guess you’re an only person who thinks so, Oriana, and I am afraid you might be wrong,” -Madoc uttered a heavy sigh. “But you can be sure I never touched a woman without her consent. You’re safe with me,” – He promised, picked himself up and left the bedroom. Like or not, the Grand General of Elfhame spent his wedding night curled up in the armchair in his study.