#anyway. this took me all day yesterday because the power kept going out

[mulders-too-large-shirt]

s3 episode 17 thoughts

this episode took a few days to work... and it built up the suspense! i tried to watch it on thursday- i was ready for my scullynmulder time- but it wouldn't play. and then i finally had time to try again yesterday, and it STILL wouldn't work.

(i had to go on reddit and learned that i needed to change a single number in a random string of code, because apparently a new firefox update just killed any ability to use hulu? the hoops i jump through for these two...)

but, i really enjoyed this episode! it had cute lil moments and then also some soul-crushing angst, which is the way i like it. so allow me to begin, and all of my note taking shall begin below!

YAYYYYY it’s scullynmulder time… my heart is so happy

so we open in a grocery store in virginia. it’s a nice looking grocery store. would browse there.

a guy is buying like a billion cans of stuff that has a muscle on it. and then a magazine with the freaky worm baby from s2 on it! haha a nice callback! again. shoutout to the props team <3

but then, the scene of tranquil grocery shopping was interrupted, as the guy with all the cans grabs the jacket of the guy in front of him- and it turns out the whole thing was a sting operation!!! guy who wanted his cans is referred to as “pusher”. the FBI has a TON of guys dealing with him. 5 cars full. wow! he must be very scary.

he’s in the back of the last car. and going on about this officer’s uniform color. 

he keeps saying cerulean over and over until somehow the guy driving the car stops seeing the big tractor trailer coming his way. and so when he drives straight ahead, he is immediately hit!!! is this some sort of hypnosis?

the intro was different again!! who do they think they are fooling by changing this?? not me!

mulder's office time. side note: it really is THEIR office as a collective. because we never see her at her desk. but anyway.

the police car’s driver died after hitting the tractor trailer that was magically invisible to him, but not before he unlocked the prisoner, pusher. pusher had confessed to contracted killings over two years that had been staged to look not like murders, if you catch my drift.

why would this otherwise great agent unlock this prisoner and also drive straight into a tractor trailer? a great question! one we can hopefully answer.

pusher had kept mumbling about cerulean until the driver ran into a truck for a business called cerulean. then he had written a clue at the scene of the crime! it says “nin or” which mulder flips backwards to read… ronin. ronin! i know that word!

mulder points out that this means a samurai without a master (nerd), and that this is the name of a… self defense magazine? so off to go read some magazines!

a young woman who we later learned is named holly brings them a big stack of the aforementioned magazines- maybe she's an archivist! maybe that should be my job!

she has a giant bruise on her face from getting mugged. mulder asks if they got whoever did this to her, and she says “do they ever? ….no offense” awww, holly, you're gonna make him sad. but seriously, poor girl, that is awful :(

she heads out, and scully is like, how did pusher do all of these killings? mulder says that he was probably utilizing the power of suggestion 

so they find an advertisement for someone “who solves problems” in all of the ronin magazines since 1994- which was when the murders started! a clue! with a phone number to go with it!

and in the ad were the letters OSU, which they thought meant ohio state but no! it’s a japanese word that means “to push”! gasp! it's definitely their guy!

(there was very conveniently a japanese to english dictionary on the shelf of the room where they were reading the magazines. i guess it's important to keep your language learning tools around in the FBI, but it was funny because all the other books looked like boring legal stuff)

they call the number, and it goes to a phone in virginia. mulder is in a car nearby and scully is there too, but she is sleeping. ON HIS SHOULDER!!!!

he lightly taps her face to wake her up and says “i think you drooled on me” and she quickly apologizes... NOOO DON’T BE MEAN TO HER!!! SHE’S SLEEPY 😭😭😭 awwwwww oh my HEART <3

(i need to scream real quick, because that was so precious. AHHHHHHHHHhhhhhHHHH)

((nah i'm never gonna move on from this actually. never never. the way he tapped her face.......... how she seemed so embarrassed.... the intimacy of falling asleep on someone's shoulder, how long he must have sat there trying not to make any sudden movements while still keeping his attention on the case........... i need to collect myself))

but then the phone rings back!!! they sprint sprint sprint and they pick it up… to someone asking if they are just going to sit there all night!!!! the pusher!!!

oh he’s creepy… he comments on how mulder “and his pretty partner seem awfully close”. now, is he invested in whatever the hell it is they have going on like i am (which is valid), or is he just a creep (less valid)? 

pusher seems to be a freak at least in some regards, saying that "they have to follow his breadcrumbs", and that the next one is right in front of mulder, who he keeps calling “g man”. he also says to let his fingers do the walking, which makes slim to no sense to me. 

but they figure that it means to call the last number on the pay phone, and it reaches a golf course! they hold the phone up so they both can hear the message and it’s so CUTE AWWW

mulder calls her “g-woman” as they leave <- STOP I’M GONNA SCREAM!!!

off to the golf course. where pusher is golfing with a very beat up face from the accident. he spots snipers hiding in the grass, mumbles that it is “about time”, and tries to get out. 

they have him cornered!!! but when he tells the dude with the gun on him to relax, he really does. and when pusher tells him to show him his face, he does. he knows the guy by name?!?

pusher tells this collins fellow to pour a ton of gasoline, which he does while crying. collins screams at the agents to stop him as he flicks on a lighter, but scully is fast and grabs a fire extinguisher, and mulder uses his jacket to induce a sort of stop drop and roll maneuver. huh, they really do work so well together!

a car horn is blaring, so mulder goes to see what is going on and it’s… a dude with his head on the horn. he says “bet you five bucks i get off”… it’s pusher! he was mumbling as if he was remotely controlling the dude who lit the flame... okay, weird.

mulder at da court. he is fidgeting as they question him about this pusher fellow and his 14 murders. mulder explains that he thinks pusher can talk his way into his victims hurting themselves, which is by far not the most outlandish thing we’ve heard on this television program, but the people in the court act like this is akin to spotting a unicorn, and scoff at mulder for proposing such a bizarre idea.

(usually i agree that mulder's ideas are bizarre, but this one seems entirely possible to me, with or without mind control. people can be talked into doing all sorts of things. mulder i am on your side and would not laugh at you like these fakes)

AND pusher had called and confessed to 14 murders, but his defense tries to write it off as a drunk prank call. while this is the most absurd thing we (both the viewer and the characters in court) have ever heard, and surely no one would ever believe it, pusher uses his mind power skills to get into the judge’s brain and make him be declared innocent.

pusher walks up to mulder and says he owes him five dollars. this dude majorly sucks.

cutscene to mulder practicing his aim. it’s pretty good!! he must be really unsettled by this whole situation to work on his marksmanship.

scully comes in (with the ear protection things on so mulder's firing doesn't blast her ears <3 queen of precautions) with more information on this pusher fellow. mulder starts reciting all the things he can guess about the pusher’s life, from his college to his military service to which branch and i'm thinking man, did he study up on this? is he that unsettled by this case? but ohhh yeah, mulder does profiling, seemingly very successfully.

but he didn’t know that the pusher applied to the FBI!!! and had flopped at the psych evaluation, where he had been ego-centric and lied and claimed to be trained by ninjas. mulder seems to think this could be true, but i don’t know if he knows the ninja lore and that they were not as historically common as media would make you think 💔

luckily, scully doesn't break this terrible news to him. man, this reminds me i need to get a good translation of the kojiki and the nihon shoki

(at this point i did a bit of a wikipedia rabbit hole into japanese medieval literature before remembering the plot at hand. focus!)

mulder says that they should have had enough evidence to at least get him in custody, and that the pusher “put the whammy” on the judge. to which scully deadpans “please explain to me the scientific nature of the whammy” <- HDHEJSNWJSKDMND i love her sooooo terribly. 

mulder is still thinking this guy was a ninja, but scully points out that if he could control people’s minds, why wouldn’t he be an FBI agent like he wanted? a very good point! well, maybe it’s a new skill, mulder posits.

he seems very frustrated that scully isn’t buying his mind control theory, but she makes it very clear she believes he is guilty of murder!!! they just need to figure out what went down. queen of communicating her logic. she won’t communicate her feelings though, but that's okay we can work on that in the future.

pusher at da FBI. writes himself a note that says “pass” and sticks it in his lapel, goes in and asks for computer records. the guard immediately gives it to him. and he waltzes in! 

no!! the poor girl with the bruised face from before, holly!!! he starts talking to her, and she gives him the keyboard to her super secret FBI computer. he asks for printouts and says he wants to hurt whoever did that to her face. hmm. well, maybe a little revenge on her behalf wouldn’t hurt...

but skinner is here! he heard an unfamiliar voice and walks in, asking if he can help this strange fellow. skinner realizes that he is up to no good, and grabs him, but the pusher convinces holly that skinner is the guy who mugged her!!! so she busts out her mace the minute that skinner manages to call for security and starts KICKING HIM??

things escalated very quickly there.

holly is in his office, apologizing profusely to skinner and whole bunch of other people for kicking the hell out of his face. scully is there too. okayyyyy, she’s moving up in the world, helping out when skinner gets attacked!!!! she is very calm about the whole thing though, which makes her a great choice, so she deserves it.

holly says that it was like the pusher was in her head, and she was watching herself do the things she did. creepy...

she’s crying, and skinner doesn’t honestly seem too mad about the whole thing. i would be very mad if one of my employees let a random guy have access to secret files and then pepper sprayed and kicked me, but clearly he understands something was afoot.

OH! scully agrees that it is the pusher’s persuasive powers that made holly attack him, even if she can’t explain why it is he can do that! wow! the evidence is undeniable, even if it is inexplicable!

the pusher left with mulder’s file… so now he knows where he lives. so they should have a sleepover at her place!!! and watch movies!!! <3 before they catch him ofc, because now that he was trespassing, they have him on hook for a crime

(sadly, i must report that no sleepover took place. but it would be nice to imagine that it did)

they go to the pusher's apartment to try and find him, and scully announces before she turns the lights on. okayyyy! giving everyone a warning.

something about her with a trench coat and a gun in investigation mode makes my stomach do flips. we don't have to unpack that right now. i just was very aware that it happened.

he left a movie on the tv, that scully immediately identified as svengali. hold on let me google something. okay, that is a book/movie about guy that uses mind control. fitting. a clue, perhaps…

and is she watching horror films on the regular to be able to identify the film after seeing like three frames….? love that for her <3

(wait, she did say before that the exorcist was one of her favorite movies! so this further proves that she is going to be seated for a spooky film <3)

mulder opens his fridge to find a million and a half of those protein cans from before. you think those are giving him psychic powers? hmm…

oh!!! scully found something in his cabinet: epilepsy medication!!! a clue, perhaps? i’m just gonna keep saying that about anything they find. so that means they know more about him, and that he will need medication, which could be a way to try and find him, because he’ll need to get more at some point probably… AND HE STARTED TAKING THE PILLS AT THE SAME TIME THE MURDERS STARTED!

mulder asks what can cause epilepsy late in life. her answers: head injury, neurological disease, a tumor…

mulder perks up because he thinks a tumor might give you psychic powers. which would be a bright side to an otherwise very dismal situation, i’m sure. 

she says that if he had a brain tumor, he would not be well enough to do all of these shenanigans- a very valid point. mulder responds with: maybe he isn’t well at all!! he was too tired to escape at the driving range, after all, and he had confessed to murders he had gotten away with… maybe he wants to go out in a blaze of glory!

huh. bold theory.

phone rings as this theory is proposed. and the pusher is in fact on the phone. he asks for mulder and scully, who are sitting next to each other on a bed with their heads close, listening in. it’s endearing. 

anyway, the pusher is going on and on with the dude on the phone named frank, saying he looks super unhealthy, and i get that they are trying to trace the call, but they also should know by now to not listen to a damn thing he says because of the mind control. but again, he could be offering a clue, so someone has to listen. agh! such a conundrum.

mulder says to hang up the phone, right as the pusher talks frank into having some sort of medical condition where his blood thickens (gag. gag gag gag bleurghhhh). mulder and scully are trying to get him to hang up the phone but he won’t, he keeps listening so they can get a trace on the call!! and then frank is dead.

scully’s trying to save his life, but mulder picks up the phone. the pusher says that he wants a real adversary, and he’s read up on mulder, who he deems worthy. okay just ignore scully at your own peril i guess...

scully realizes she can’t save frank :( and mulder is mad because he killed this dude for nothing!! but he says no no, all these people die by themselves. 

they trace him to near a hospital, where he must be getting regular treatment for his condition. they find his car outside. and he’s scheduled for an MRI.

mulder says he should go in by himself, so that no one else gets hurt. a bold choice...

he gets all suited up with a camera and some fancy equipment to go in, then he gives scully his gun, so he won’t shoot anyone even if the pusher uses his mind games on him. and then they hold hands for a second. and look into each other’s eyes. and i will sob like a baby. 

mulder is going into the hospital. scully is watching all of this from his fancy camera. the og live stream. 

we hear two shots fired; the pusher made the guard shoot the technician and then himself. scully sees the monitor and asks mulder to get closer. and he does indeed have a tumor…. and is dying, so he has nothing to lose. which makes him even scarier!

scully is begging him to get out of there. but he turns and scully sees from the camera the pusher holding him at gun point!!! she yells “god!” and then runs into action. oh you know it’s serious when the catholic is yelling the name of the lord as an exclamation….

scully putting on a bullet proof vest to go in there and save him😳oh wow… i am learning so much about myself

she goes in, tells the SWAT team to wait for a signal. everything is very very very tense as she makes her way into the hospital. so slowly. she finally comes to the right door, and pushes it open.

mulder is seated with the pusher in the room of a patient, while the two stare at each other. they’re both very sweaty, and pusher has a gun in his hand. the pusher is going on about martial arts and a fight to the death and stuff. he gives mulder the gun and says to pull the trigger, one pull with a one in six chance to kill him.

scully is suspicious because they are, again, in a hospital, which has pure oxygen, and who knows what could happen if he pulls the trigger? but despite her very logical warning, he does pull the trigger, right away, and nothing happens. 

but the pusher talks mulder into putting the gun against his own head. she is begging him not to do it, to listen to her, to get out of there together, and everything will be okay.

and despite scully’s best efforts, he DOES pull the trigger. no bullet this time, but she is FREAKING OUT that he did that. she yells, and that yell will probably haunt me forever, how furious and terrified she sounded to watch him do such a horrific thing.

and then he turns the gun on HER, she’s crying, telling him to fight this. terrified she's about to die at his hands.

(oh my gosh, i really hope he’s faking the mind control working on him, so he can turn the gun on the pusher at the last minute)

the pusher mentions that SHE SHOT HIM, he read it in his files, “PAYBACK TIME, SHOOT THE LITTLE SPY” <- OMFG???? this escalated SOSOSOSOSO fast????

he tells scully to RUN while he still has the gun pointed at her, but then once she gets out and pulls the fire alarm, mulder shoots him!!!!! he keeps clicking the gun over and over at him despite it being empty. and he looks so tired, handing the gun over to scully, holding his head in his hands. 

man, he must have been horrified, to have someone in his mind, making him try to hurt himself and hurt scully, watching her scream at him after he put the gun to his head and pulled the trigger, watching her cry as the gun was pointed at her, fighting for access to his own mind... and after he had left his gun with her, just to make sure he wouldn't hurt anyone, he found himself in this situation...... how he kept firing even after the single bullet had been shot, just to ensure that no one else would be hurt..... woah. there is a lot to unpack here about the lack of agency and losing loved ones and mulder's deepest fears.... i will be gnawing on this in my head for a while...

so, the pusher is on a ventilation system, and mulder is watching. scully enters and says he will never regain consciousness. apparently, he had been refusing treatment, refused to have the tumor removed even though it was possible. mulder says that it’s like she had proposed, he was a little man, and this finally made him feel big.

they linger long enough for me to wonder if they’re actually going to kiss, right in front of this comatose murderer, but she does something just as intimate: grabs his hand and says to not let this dude take up another minute of their time. we end with mulder taking one last look and leaving the room.

oh, this episode was GOOD. REALLY GOOD. the suspense was killer, the mind games were trippy, and these two. these two.

scully falling asleep on his shoulder? the fluff of an indulgent fanfic writer. but it REALLY HAPPENED. them holding their heads close multiple times to listen to the phone... the hand grab at the end. listening and trusting each other's wild theories.

this episode showed how well they work as a team, and it made me so happy. it felt in very sharp contrast to a few episodes before where they were not working together at all. and i get that was cosmic opposite day, but still, this episode and their dynamic felt so right.

and then at the end, the level of angst was unexpected. and honestly, they go through a LOT on this show, but scully seeing him held at gunpoint and then watching him pull the trigger on his own head made me lose my MIND. how she begged him to stop, pleaded and yelled, how she cried as he pointed the gun on her, him using every ounce of energy he had to try and resist mind control to keep her safe. and the minute she is away, he unloads the gun into the pusher, again and again and again despite knowing it was empty, just to be sure no other bullets could hurt anyone else. how exhausted he was when he sat down at the end, his head in his hands; how he watched him in his comatose state until scully told him they should leave.

(insert prolonged muffled screaming as a way to comprehend the feelings i am experiencing)

and a massive shoutout to skinner for showing up for 5 minutes, realizing there was a problem, addressing the problem, and not being too mad when the girl in the computer department beat his ass because he was sympathetic to her mind control quandary. really a solid fellow. skinner, you and i have had our disagreements in the past, but i have come to see you as a friend. now, do i trust him fully? no. but can he come to a birthday party? yeah <3

wow. just wow. a really great episode. definitely making it onto the best episodes list! i'm trying to make a mental list of all the ones that stick out as the most enjoyable, especially the ones that are single episodes rather than the larger two or three part ones, and this is a contender surely.

"please explain to me the scientific nature of the whammy"... how could you not love her?

[caroline18mars]

A Man On Fire - Chapter 87

The words poured out of her, even though she was so jetlagged she couldn’t think straight, he looked at her staring at the carpet while she just kept on talking, she was like a robot, depriving herself of any emotion, just telling the cold, hard facts was all she could muster right now. He had never seen her like this, being around her was always so invigorating, her enthusiasm and personality intoxicating, but right now..every sparkle, every light in her eyes had gone out. She abruptly stopped mid sentence and got up “I can’t anymore, Jay, I’m…just so tired..” her voice was cracking up, he got up with her and threw his arm around her waist guiding her to the bed “I know, come on, let’s get you into bed” he took off her shoes so she could undress. The coolness of the sheets against her hot skin was the first thing she allowed herself to feel “I’ve missed you so much” she whispered in the darkness as Jared crawled in bed and settled next to her, slowly she caressed his cheek. “I missed you too, I was going crazy not hearing from you..” he leaned in for a much overdue kiss, a kiss that broke the ice in her soul “I didn’t know what to do, I still don’t” she quickly wiped the tears away, if she gave in to them, then she wouldn’t be able to stop. “Try and get some sleep, tomorrow’s a new day, it’s gonna be ok.” he whispered, pulling her up on his chest, she bit her lip, knowing that he meant well, but she hadn’t told him the whole story yet, it wasn’t gonna be ok, ever ‘I love you, Jay” her hot breath danced on his skin “I love you more” he kissed the top of her head and closed his eyes, she was here now, that was all that mattered.

”No, please, no, don’t leave me, papa, noooo”, her cries woke Jared right up in the early hours of morning “Harper? Hey, wake up” he rubbed her shoulder but she just kept kicking and screaming. “No, don’t…please…I beg you…nooooo” she screamed as she sat up straight, and opened her eyes, completely disorientated with tears streaming down her face. “It was a nightmare, it’s ok, shhhh” he pulled her against him, trying to comfort her, “oh..Jared..” she slowly regained awareness of her surroundings. “It was just a dream, that’s all” he said a bit helpless before he pushed a kiss on her lips. “But a very real dream, there’s not a lot of difference between reality and dream in this case, is there?” she broke the kiss and let herself fall against the cushions again, “I have no family anymore, no money, I don’t even have a name anymore, they’re taking it all away, I’m..nothing..I’m nobody” she closed her eyes against the constant onslaught of visuals of yesterday and the day before that kept bouncing round in her head. “Come here” Jared rolled on his side and made her do the same, so he could hold her again “you’re not nobody, you’re still Harper Coco and you’ll always be, no matter how hard they try to take away your name, fuck your family, you don’t need them, I’ll talk to my lawyers, we’ll go to court and..” Jared was so desperately trying to help her but she pushed a finger against his lips, “there’s nothing I can do, Jared..my father and his lawyers made that pretty clear, they’re taken everything away from me, my name, my title, I signed it away, I had no choice..and they’re sueing me for abuse and neglect..because of the paintings, and for giving my father a heartattack..it’s just…I still can’t believe it..my father is an extremely powerful and wealthy man, who do you think they’ll believe? The patriarch of a huge aristocratic family who is a diplomat for the UN, NATO, you name it whose judicial tentacles are spread all around the globe or his estranged daughter? I think we both know the answer to that question, don’t we?”.

She was right, there was nothing he could do or say that would solve this mess, not now anyway, he pushed a kiss against her ear “today is another day, let’s do something fun together, it might make you forget about it even for just a few hours, the only thing you need to remember is that you’re never without your family, I’m and I’ll always be your family, whatever it is, you can always talk to me and I’m always gonna help you and most importantly I’m always gonna love you and choose you, no matter what they throw your or our way.” Just thinking about not hearing from her for the last few days had been an immense eyeopener somehow, he was the surest he had ever been about this relationship, she was the one, this highly intelligent, fierce, stunning creature lying here beside him, he knew every little curve of her body by heart and every curl of her glorious mind, Coco was…well basically completely herself, something extremely rare in this day and age. While all women these days had filler, botox, or all sort of surgery that made them look worse than their natural beauty, there was no plastic for this one, oh no, her kind of beauty was totally unique and not ever to be compared, this woman here was in a league of her own.

“Thanks” she gave him a sad smile and pushed her plump lips against his, things heated up between them and in no time she was sitting on top of him, letting him slide hard and deep inside of her. oh she was grateful alright and just how grateful was what she was going to show him right now. Her head fell back in pure bliss as she felt that gorgeous hard cock of his push against her walls, all throbbing and wet, the squishy noises their steamy connection made, drove her absolutely insane. There were no words needed, all the confirmation on what he had just told her, was shown right now, only raw sex could do that right now, the way she had been treated by her family, she was only able to try and fuck it out of her system. Little explosions were going off in his brain, what a sight, the woman of his life, pounding his dick hard, her walls clenching like an iron fist around his huge, thick cock, driving him insane, and the sight of her bouncing and riding him like a woman possessed, with her head falling back, while she guided his hands towards her breasts to squeeze and pinch them. But he made it even better for her by sitting up while she kept riding him relentlessly, she really needed it hard and rough so he attacked her breasts, his teeth biting, stretching each nipple hard, earning herself a slap each time he let go only for a few seconds before he got back to his exquisite torture that she enjoyed so much that her focus on his sexy torture made her hips slow down. His teeth raked along the sweaty skin “who said you could stop fucking me? Huh?” and just like that her submissive side came out to play “I’m so sorry” she whispered as she slowly let him slide out of her with a long, painful moan and crawled on the bed on all fours in front of him, looking back at him, the animalistic heat in those eyes almost sent him over the edge “I can only hope I deserve to be fucked real hard by you, do what you want with me” her voice barely a whisper but he had heard every single word of her horny plea. Jared didn’t say a word, she was trying to push her long hair out of the way when she felt his fist yank it making her yelp in pain but then she was quickly silenced by the sheer force that entered her from behind. “Oooohhh god, yesssss” nobody had ever or could ever give her more pleasure than him, he was perfect, there was not a woman who could easily accommodate his size but she took it all, she ignored the pain and let it become part of her pleasure and satisfaction. This fucking was out of this world, seeing her writhe in front of him and seeing her meet his pushing with her grinding drove him insane, she seemed insatiable, constantly urging him to go deeper, to fuck her even harder and most of all not to be gentle with her only made him grow harder if that was even possible. He yelled a few profanities at her as he felt his orgasm build and build before he climaxed deep inside of her, but he was going to make sure she had no time to even recover from her own orgasm as he pulled her back down with him on the bed, in a few minutes he would go for round two starting by crawling between her legs to devour that hot, wet part of her body.

"You ok?” he gently kissed her cheek, she had been awfully quiet after her last earthshattering orgasm, she just lay there all quiet, lost in her thoughts looking at the ceiling “Harper?” hearing her name got her out of her daze. “huh? Yes, yes, of course, all good” she was a master at bottling up her issues, this man here didn’t deserve to be swamped by her misery once again. He knew what was on her mind, clearly this morning was just a temporary break but right now her worries were back in full HD. “All that physical exercise has made me very hungry” her lips curled in a smile as she rolled on her side and kissed him, “brunch it is” he whispered but as soon as he turned to call roomservice, the smile on her face disappeared instantly, it was taking her a lot of effort not to bawl her eyes out “I’m going to take a shower” she whispered at Jared who was still on the phone, as she hurried towards the bathroom.

”whoaaa, Harper stop” she felt him pull her back on the sidewalk while a motorbike raced past nearly knocking her over, “you alright?” he pushed her to the side so she could catch her breath. “I’m fine, I just didn’t pay attention for a minute, I’m more jetlagged than I’d like to admit apparently” she stammered, “I don’t think it’s jetlag, you’ve been absentminded all morning..it’s all that mess with your parents, there’s no need in denying it, it’s a lot..I get it” his lips brushed against her forehead, “I’ll talk to our laywers this afternoon”. Harper grabbed his arms “I told you, there’s nothing you can do and besides..” she paused while biting her lip to stop the tears that were threatening to fall “I don’t want my mess to affect you or the band or anything for that matter, my father is a powerful man, he’ll do whatever it takes and hurt as many people as he possibly can just to prove his point, I’m not letting him drag you or your family or band through the mud, do you hear me?” she started to raise her voice at him “this is my problem, not yours or anybody else’s, it’s only mine, and I’ll deal with it myself, ok?”. Jared looked in shock “no, you won’t have to..come on Coco, this is just your pride talking” he breathed trying to pull her back in his embrace but she pushed back “for fuck’s sakes, Jay, don’t you hear what I’m saying?? Whether it’s my stupid fucking pride talking or not, this is MY problem, ok! Nobody else’s, and I say we stop talking about it, this entire topic disgusts me, so can we just go and see that bloody Opera House now? Goddammit” she threw up her arms in despair and mumbling to herself she started walking away, leaving him gobsmacked.

[voraciousvore]

Big Corp Inc. (16/43)

Chapter 16: Lost

Needless to say, Candy failed to make it to work the next morning. Ronny sauntered by with his coffee mug in hand and smirked to himself when he saw her empty cubicle. Mr. Hardon recognized, with some regret, that he had taken things too far. He wasn’t sure if Candy had quit or had never made it back, but either way she wasn’t here, and he was probably going to be blamed for her absence. He suspected the latter option was more probable. He couldn’t picture her finding her way back to the core part of the city with human transportation at her diminutive size. For all he knew, she might be dead by now. 

He was still sour he had been so rudely interrupted in the middle of eating his dessert yesterday. He was in hot water with his wife, but he really didn’t care. He couldn’t stand her anyways, and he had no idea why she refused to leave him, despite his brazen infidelity. He didn’t consider divorce a viable option, because she would take half of his net worth and he could be forced by the courts to pay her alimony. She probably did not want to reduce her standard of living either, since he was the primary breadwinner of the household.  

He wished he had never married the bitch. Back in the day, when he first courted her, she had been smoking hot, with a voluptuous figure and a pretty face. However, while he had chosen her primarily for her looks, she had chosen him for his money and connections. As the years wore on, the couple who married for shallow reasons came to realize they were not compatible and they were stuck in a loveless marriage. His wife’s good looks faded as she aged, and she let herself go as she became bitter and resentful. Mr. Hardon had to turn to extramarital affairs and sexual harassment at the office to get his rocks off, as he was no longer attracted to his ugly, fat, nagging wife. 

Mr. Hardon didn’t want to reflect on his miserable home life, so his thoughts turned back to Candy. If she ever came back, if she was in fact crazy enough to show up after the nightmare she had endured, he would have to finish what he started. He would wait until he had the pills in hand. He was already regretting her being gone. The office was boring to him now, without a little woman to play with and torment. The Giantesses were hot and all, but he couldn’t pick them up in his hand and completely dominate them like he could with a human. He couldn’t eat or mortally terrify them either. He loved the exhilarating feeling a human in hand gave him, to have such power and control, to be so big and strong in comparison. Almost like a god.

Ronny poked his head into Mr. Hardon’s office. “Where’s Candy?” he asked, playing dumb, curious for any details. 

Mr. Hardon shrugged. “Beats me.” He glared at Ronny darkly. “Get back to work,” he ordered with a snarl. He assumed Ronny was responsible for this whole mess and didn’t appreciate the man going through his bag without his permission. Ronny retreated to his cubicle, wearing a shit-eating grin, and took a hearty gulp of his coffee. 

Martin, over at his desk, found himself thinking about Candy again. As much as he tried to ignore his feelings for her, there was something about her that was mesmerizing to him. She was just so lovely and cute and wholesome. Her tiny size made her even more endearing to him. She was so brave and bold too, to be here working with Giants. He wanted to get to know her better and take her out on a date. A drip of despair dribbled into his heart when he realized his little daydream would probably never make it into reality. He still assumed that she was terrified of him, and pretended to be friendly out of fear. He couldn’t move past his embarrassment either for his terrible mistake when he ate her. 

Regardless, he wanted to catch a glimpse of her again, even if he kept his distance and didn’t interact with her at all, so as not to frighten her. He figured it couldn’t hurt to admire her from afar. With his mind made up, he came up with a plausible excuse to talk with the boss, since his office was right across from Candy’s cubicle, and got up to visit her. He tried to act casual and greeted a couple of coworkers as he walked by their cubicles, but his insides were squirming with a mix of anxiety and excitement. His heart palpitated in anticipation. 

Martin was immensely disappointed to find her cubicle barren. Her computer monitor was turned off too, indicating she hadn’t been in the office at all today. Did she finally reach her breaking point and quit? The thought saddened him. He didn’t even get to wish her farewell or see her one last time. In fact, the last time he saw her, he didn’t even talk to her properly and ran away. He felt ashamed of himself. Perhaps it was for the best; he needed to let her go, before he got too attached. 

He came here ostensibly to talk to the boss, so he peered into Mr. Hardon’s office to find him sitting there deep in thought. “Excuse me, sir. A word?” The boss appeared mildly annoyed, but gestured with his hand for him to enter. 

Martin put on his best show to keep his inquiry casual. “I see the new human girl isn’t at her desk. Did she quit, or just call out?” 

The boss sighed. “I don’t know, to be honest. I was just thinking about that.” 

“Oh, she never called in sick?” Martin felt a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. She had definitely thrown in the towel. 

“Well, no, but it’s not just that. You see, I accidentally took her home yesterday in my bag, and I have no idea if she made it back to the small side of the city safely or not.” 

Martin blinked. He felt his throat tighten up. “You didn’t walk her back?” 

“No,” Mr. Hardon answered. His response was cold and remorseless.  

Martin struggled to control his temper. His voice rose in volume as he spoke. “How could you do that to her?” He shuffled his feet restlessly. “What street do you live on?” 

Mr. Hardon’s eyes narrowed. “Why do you need to know that?” 

Martin just about exploded with rage. “Because I’m going to go find her, you dolt! Tell me!” He wasn’t in the habit of being rude to his boss, but his emotions were getting the better of him. He was highly agitated and concerned about Candy. 

“What, you think you’ll just waltz up the street and she’ll be waiting for you right there? She’s not even the size of your finger, for crying out loud! It’d be like looking for a needle in a haystack!” Mr. Hardon shot back. 

“I’m going to at least try!” Martin retorted, his gray eyes hardened with determination. 

Mr. Hardon shook his head. “Fine. Fine. It’s Swift Street. Don’t expect to get paid for the time you’re gone!” Martin didn’t care what Mr. Hardon had to say. As soon as he got the street name he turned around and left. While he waited for the elevator, he pulled up his GPS app on his phone and located the street. He was insistent on trying, but he felt hope slipping away as he stared down at his phone screen. How far could she have gotten in a day? He had no idea how long it would take a human to traverse the street, or which direction she had gone, or whether she was still alive. He prayed an animal didn’t attack her, or a hostile Giant didn’t steal her away or squish her. His stomach twisted up in knots. He hadn’t truly fathomed just how hazardous the large side of the city could be for a small human like her. He hurried over to Swift St. as quickly as possible. Fortunately, it wasn’t too far from work.  

As he approached the area, he began calling Candy’s name, making sure to project his voice so it could be heard from afar. He listened at regular intervals for a response, but he wasn’t sure he would be able to hear her squeaky little voice if she shouted back to him. He got some strange looks from passersby but he didn’t care. Candy’s safety was more important to him than any social stigma he may incur from his bellowing. 

He journeyed through the nearby streets, straying further and further away as he increased his search radius, calling for Candy. He asked Giants who happened to be out and about if they had seen a small human woman, but sadly nobody had sighted her. He was starting to despair of ever finding her, but he kept trying. If she was alive out there, he couldn’t abandon her. He might be her last hope. 

Candy was still sleeping soundly under the tree where she had collapsed. From a long distance away, she imagined she heard her name floating to her on the breeze. Her eyes fluttered open and she moaned softly. Her leg muscles and feet were sore and tired. For a moment, she thought maybe the sound was just a vestige of a dream. But then, like an echo, she heard her name again. She sat up and surveyed the area, trying to pinpoint the source of the call. She began to cringe inwardly as she thought about who would be searching for her. As far as she knew, the only person who was aware she was here was Mr. Hardon. Her blood pressure spiked. She needed to get away from him. 

She stood up and was about to run when she heard the voice again, closer this time. The deep, resonant tone was familiar, but it wasn’t Mr. Hardon’s voice. Her eyes widened. Martin was looking for her. Why was he here? The reason didn’t matter. She needed to find him. She realized he was too far away to hear her if she yelled. She looked around again, and off in the distance saw his Giant silhouette on the horizon. She ran towards him, but he was so far away. She felt like she would never reach him. Fortunately, he seemed to be clomping toward her with great strides. 

Candy couldn’t hold herself back any longer. Even if he couldn’t hear her, she still belted out, “Martin! Martin! Over here!” 

Martin paused. He thought he had heard something, the faintest call from down the road. He listened intently but didn’t hear anything else. He forcefully expelled a breath in frustration. His mind must be playing tricks on him. He’d never find Candy this way. He was beginning to give up. If he hadn’t found her by now, he’d never find her. His chest tightened with violent emotion. The thought of Candy, lost and abandoned and maybe hurt, deeply upset him. 

Just as he was about to turn around, he heard the same little squeak. He squinted at a distant speck moving towards him along the sidewalk. 

“C-Candy?” he cautiously called. 

Just barely, he could make out a tiny voice replying, “Martin!” He rushed forward toward the infinitesimal speck, hardly more noticeable than a bug. As he got closer, he could see Candy’s lustrous blonde hair shining in the sun. 

“Candy! Oh, praise the heavens! I thought I’d never find you!” He crouched down, swept her up off the sidewalk with his huge hand, and brought her up to his chest. He could feel that she was coated in some sort of slimy, sticky substance, with blades of grass and dirt clinging to her body. “What happened to you? Are you okay?” 

“It doesn’t matter. I’m good now,” Candy replied, snuggling up to his warm chest. His Giant body felt so good against hers. She felt safe and comfortable and cared for. She buried herself in his shirt like a blanket and her eyes overflowed with moisture. “Oh, thank goodness you found me! I was so lost! I don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t come upon me...” 

“Yeah, I don’t know if you realized, but you were going in completely the wrong direction,” Martin remarked. “You would’ve never made it back.” He stroked her gently with his fingers and held her close. He wanted to hold her in his hands against him forever. His heart was thumping hard in his chest. He figured she was just relieved to have somebody save her, but now he knew at least that she wasn’t afraid of him like he initially thought. Otherwise, she would never have approached him as she did. Maybe, just maybe, he had a chance with her. 

He caressed her back with his thumb as she curled up to his chest. “Let’s get you home.” 

Chapter 17

First Chapter

[fishyfishygrils]

CHAPTER 2: What Is A Psychic?

Not understanding her powers at all, Jess asked for help. It was hard for her. She was naturally talented at the things she enjoyed doing. What would they think if they saw her so weak? They had not made new friends in a long time. Jess couldn’t mess that up the day after! She told the two as subtly as possible. No need for begging on their knees right? 

Jess sat on a bench at a table at Minnie’s Dinner, the only dinner in a 60-mile radius. Jess hoped there wouldn’t be any robberies today, they wanted their milkshake. Rocking herself back and forth, Jess waited for their friends to join them. The dinner at this point was… calme, not empty but calme. The waiter was still waiting with her notepad, sweating hoping that the customer in front of her at least noticed the waiter’s presence. 

“Would you like me to take your order?” The waiter, Cathrine, asked once more, begging for Jess’s attention. Her annoyance exaggerates her Scottish accent. Jess jumped up from her seat surprised at the sudden existence of the waiter. She apologizes frantically ashamed of her blissfulness. “It’s fine Jess, but please tell me what you want to order so I can take some of the other tables?” Now, Jess felt even more horrible.

“S-sure eh… a soda please.” Jess got a dirty look from the supervisor from the other side of the dinner. And now Jess felt her insides turn to mush, lungs, and heart hitting each other so hard, both of these very vital organs weren't working anymore. Jess wasn’t breathing as she heard another voice in her head.

‘Why would someone order a soda anymore, it tastes like trash. Soda is the worst drink of all. It’s too sugary, I can’t drink it without burping like an ogre-’ 

The supervisor was looking away, hiding his trembling hands in his pockets. Why does that guy hate soda so much anyway? The poor client is on the brink of having a panic attack. The radio was playing Aerosmith loudly, The machine was hiding Jess’s short breath. 

Bells rang as two teenagers entered Minnie’s. Both of them walked to Jess’s booth and sat down. The boy, the arcade addict found out yesterday that he was named Michèal, said hello by hitting his head on the table and then staying there. The emo boy had not noticed his new friend's frantic breathing, but the half-Alien Daysie did. They sat next to Jess and initiated the conversation. “Hey, are you ok? You don’t look very ok…” 

Jess put herself back together as fast as she could, unfortunately, it only made it worse. “I- it's fine, It's fine. I'm f-fine.” 

“If you’re sure.” Daysie was not convinced. They kept glancing at Jess from their bottom eyes as they ordered their smoothie from Cathrine. Michèal is still… emoing his way to a good afternoon nap if that's still possible for him.

Jess was almost composed of their bout of psychic causing anxiety. “So! Okay…” She took a deep breath. “I’m going to ask you guys where to start because ever since yesterday I won't stop hearing the thoughts of so many people and I do not know how to control it! My head hurts when so many thoughts are happening simultaneously, and I’m not sure if I have other powers! I have no idea about any of how this kind of thing usually works an-”

 Michèal lifted his head before cutting her rant off. “Listen, if you think we have any idea what’s happening to you. We don't. We said we would help you yesterday, but we ain’t got any clues either except what you've said about your great-grandmother. I’m helping you so you won’t snitch.” He stole a sip of Daysie’s smoothie. 

Daysie snatched their paid drink from the freeloader and commented “This is not helpful Mike.” 

“Don’t call me Mike. And I’m telling the truth. The second she knows what she can do I’m leaving.” He retorted. 

“You don’t have to do this, I won’t tell anyone what you are and-” Jess explained, but was cut off by a pissed-off immortal.

“I’ll help, and it doesn’t mean anything.” Daysie watched with amusement. They hid their smile by covering the bottom of their face with their hair. Michèal noticed the mechanics' reaction and began fighting in a psychic battle without the actual psychic sitting next to them who was sipping on the straw of an empty cup and looking out the dinner window. Watching a black van turn the corner on the road of the arcade. ‘It must be a new game mom bought’ they thought.  The battle ended with Michèal victorious and he swiped Daysie’s drink without them looking. 

“Kay’ we figured you could read people's minds, you’ve said your great-grandmother worked as a psychic when she arrived in America and you can’t find her old stuff because of reasons. Those reasons being?” The black-haired boy asked. 

“I’m really bad at lying.” She answered.

“How does that even relate to what we're trying to do here?” His drink was lost to the original owner, who now kept both hands on the smoothie. 

“If my dad questions why I'm asking for  the supplies, I won’t be able to lie about it.” 

“Lying is not that hard, this is a simple task.” He tried to grab the smoothie again and failed.

“Like you're the one to judge.” Said Daysie while protecting their drink from the Emo thief. The thing about Jess’s parents was that they were great parents but not perfect. They told their teenage child that her they would never judge her for what she did or who she was. The arcade addict said almost everything that crossed their minds at the dinner table. Most of the time, her words would make up 90% of the conversation. She’s never hidden anything from her parents ever. They had even never thought about lying to her parents. 

“The only part of the plan we haven't thought about yet is how we're going to test the powers?” The half-alien asked. 

“we’ll improvise.” The gamer answered. 

“Check a dictionary because that's not the definition of a plan-”

The first part of the plan worked. Use Michèal’s car the get to Jess’s house. Jess asks for the stuff and doesn’t answer her parent's question before sprinting out of the house telling them she’s hanging out with her friends with the needed stuff in her arms. She almost messed up the question part too. The car was bolting off a second after Jess closed the door. Was that the easiest plan in the world? Yes. Was Jess’s parents the most confused parents in the world for that short 3-minute period of time? Also yes. Michèal parked his car in the Arcades driveway. It wasn't opened yet. The store was closed for a while. Jess’s parents said it was because of a problem with the wiring and it caused the games to stop receiving the electricity.  Daysie called it an extremely unlikely scenario based on what they saw while working on the broken arcade game.  Polybius was, yes, still broken. The back alley behind the arcade was empty the only other object was a trash bin. The corridor was empty and dirty. The teens had to bring out a table and a few chairs from the arcade before sitting down to do some improvising. After they didn't feel like they would get an unknown disease because of the concrete, the group pulled out the supplies. A stack of tarot cards, some herbs they had no idea the names of, and a crystal ball. Jess looked in awe at the objects in front of her. She had never met her great-grandmother Alafar but based on her chosen profession. She must have been cool as hell.  

The two other teenagers witnessed the smaller’s seemingly guided hand touch the glass ball and a sparking glow push out of the crystal object. The transparency of the crystal ball was replaced by a sudden multi-colored light flashing and pulsating into Jess. The light turned into stars that flew around the girl in front of it. Jess’s eyes lit up like a radiating rainbow, covering the alley with strange lights and colors. 

Jess was experiencing so many emotions at once: pride, love, excitement, fear, anxiety, and awe. Never in their life had they felt so alive. She also felt a pull. She followed the guiding force to look at the crystal ball in front of her. In the windowed crystal, a black van is parked in front of the arcade, and it's the same van she saw at the dinner. She remembered no car was parked in the parking lot of the arcade when Michèal parked his. Multiple men stepped out of the vehicle before rushing into her parent's business, breaking the lock before they entered. Windows were shattered and Jess could feel some sort of buzzing noise escaping the vision. Before she could even worry about the image's implications, the shapes and colors around her faded to nothingness. The suddenness of its end pushed the psychic on the dirty floor. Jess was in shock looking back at her new friends praying that they had seen what she had seen. They had. Their eyes were covered with expressions of worry. Those expressions turned into fear as they heard a car pull up the driveway. 

[theoriginaltortuga]

Responsibility, Rage, and Recent Resurrection (Part 3)

A/N: I am working my hardest to have this complete before the semester starts, if there are more typos or some parts are wonky, please allow

Pairing: Connor x ilitw MC (Devon Hernandez)

Tagging (by request): @gutsfics

Wordcount: 2,045

Connor winced as Devon fell back onto the mattress. For the fifth time. By now, he could stand on his own, it was taking a step that wasn’t going well.

Devon’s face was blotchy and his hair was drenched with sweat as he turned into the mattress to screech. “I hate this so fucking much!”

“I know, sweetheart.” Connor sat on the edge of the bed and rested a hand on his back. Devon shouldn’t be this exhausted from standing and trying to move. Probably. Connor wasn’t entirely sure. He was drawing on that time he had broken his leg as a kid and everything Andy had said on the rare occasions Connor drove him to and from physiotherapy. 

Andy or Jocelyn would know better. Then again, they’d both call him a moron for sticking Devon in a car and driving him seven hours away from anyone else who might be able to help. When he thought about it like that it sounded bad. 

“Hey.” Devon’s voice brought him out of his thoughts. He had sat up and was smiling softly. “Don’t be all frowny. I’ve only been awake for a day. It’ll take a while for everything to go back to normal.” He didn’t seem to believe his own words.

Connor scrubbed at his face. Devon needed him to be strong and steady, not having his mind yo-yoing on his decisions every five seconds. “Yeah, you’re right.”

They’d only left Westchester yesterday and he already felt like things were falling apart. Devon couldn’t walk, only ate because Connor made him, and was legally dead. They needed help, but the only people who could, were more likely to take Devon away from him and right back into danger and the Power.

The only reason he’d done all of this was to protect Devon, but what if Devon didn’t want to be protected? What if they did go back and Devon chose to stay? Not just in Westchester but with the Power. Connor was done with that life, so if Devon wasn’t, what did that mean for them?

“Ready to watch me fall on my ass again?” Devon said cheerfully as he tried to push himself to his feet. 

Connor stood front of him to let Devon balance himself on Connor’s shoulders. Devon beamed down at him even with exhaustion in his eyes. That smile still made Connor feel off balance. Holding Devon in his arms was something he’d dreamed about for years only to be left heartbroken when the sun came up. He wondered if Devon would always feel like a dream.

“Connor? If I take a step I’m gonna walk into you.”

He smiled up at him. “Maybe you should. I think it’s a good time for a break anyway.”

Devon raised an eyebrow. “It’s been less than an hour.”

“Exactly.”

He laughed and leaned into Connor, letting them sway for a moment before Devon pulled back. He kept his eyes on Connor’s chest, something he’d been doing a lot, looking and touching over Connor’s heart. Maybe it was comforting? “There was something I wanted to ask you.” He took a deep breath. “You mentioned a ritual–”

Connor stepped back and Devon windmilled, trying to keep his balance. Connor should care about that, should try and help, but instead he moved until his back was pressed against the door.

“What the hell?” Devon had balanced, but his legs were trembling. He’d fall if he didn’t sit, but by the scowl on his face it didn’t seem like he was going to.

“You don’t need to know.” 

“The fuck I don’t! Especially if it makes you act like this.”

“Why do you want to know? You want to leave me and run back to what I’m trying to protect us from?” Connor couldn’t believe Devon would turn his back on him like this. Right when they finally had a shot at a future together. “Am I not good enough for you?”

“What?” The scowl melted away in favor of confusion. “Of course I’m not going to leave you! Connor, I love you. I want to be with you no matter what, but you can’t kidnap me to San Francisco and expect me not to ask questions.”

Connor ran a hand through his hair, pulling at it. It was good to hear how Devon felt, but he’d only gotten involved the first–second?--time because of his friends. If he knew exactly what they were facing, they would take priority. He loved Devon’s loyalty and desire to help his friends but it was very counterproductive at the moment.

“Connor, please. Don’t you trust me?”

He knew when he was being played, but there was an inkling of real doubt in Devon’s voice. “Fine.” Connor sat on the edge of the bed and waited for Devon to do the same. “The guy that killed my mom, Adrian Kim, did it because of a ritual for power…” Connor explained the whole story slowly, examining Devon’s expression for any reason to stop, but there was none. Devon’s face was perfectly blank right through the end.

They sat in silence. The wall clock ticked and the sounds of other motel guests starting their days filtered into the room. 

“Do you get it? Leaving was the only way I could protect you.”

Devon didn’t meet his eyes. His head was bowed, his hair a curtain between them. Blood rushed behind Connor’s ears. Devon had to understand. They needed to be on the same page.

“I’ve never really been the one protected before.” He looked up with a watery smile. “I mean, it’s not like anyone asked me to, but I’ve always been the protector. It’s nice to be on the other side of it. Thank you.”

Connor didn’t know if he believed him. It seemed too easy.  “I’m happy to protect you for the rest of our lives. Nothing in Westchester is our problem anymore.”

“Except the funerals.”

Connor froze. “What?”

“Only if they die.” Devon sat closer and leaned against him. “Our friends are strong and there’s even better odds with everyone you mentioned, but you know, if. Then that would be our problem.”

“If. That won't happen. Everyone will be fine.”

"That's what I thought before I died." Connor caught Devon as he slumped against him, unconscious again. Why did it feel like that had been on purpose?

---

Devon waited until they heard Connor’s boots hitting the motel stairs and then dove for the duffle bag. Connor had kept looking at it every few minutes, so the phone had to be there. Unless it wasn’t and they had to move to plan D.

Early that morning, he had listened with panic growing in his chest as Connor told him about the evil ritual that was happening at a fucking carnival because their lives weren’t enough of a horror movie, apparently. It was beyond tempting to just roll with what Connor said about running and protecting and forgetting that Westchester even existed, but Devon was self-aware enough to know that the right thing to do, usually wasn’t what he wanted to do, which was why he had to do it anyway.

Also, Connor acting like a jackass and nearly letting them eat shit because Devon asked a question he didn't like was probably a bad sign.

They found the phone shut down at the bottom of the bag and turned it on. Way too many missed call notifications and–a passcode. Of course there was a passcode. Could nothing in their life be easy? 

It was fine. Just a slight complication. IPhones gave you six chances before you were shut out. So six digits and six tries. It was fine.

091298, Connor’s birthday. Incorrect. 

020500, Stacy’s birthday. Incorrect. 

123456. Incorrect and honestly they weren’t sure why they’d even tried it. 

266667, Connor in digit form. Incorrect. 

Two more tries. It was hopeless. He didn’t know enough about Connor or his life to guess at his password. Devon was going to try the next two, fail horribly, Connor would notice and freak out, and they would end up even further from Westchester—Wait. 

Further from Westchester. In the car. Connor’s car. The car that was specifically a C-A-M-A-R-O. 

There was no way. 

226276, Camaro in digit form. Correct. 

He was in. 

Devon laughed helplessly. He was maybe-dating a fucking dork. 

All of Devon’s friends were in the contacts and recent missed calls, along with names that were familiar but unrecognizable. Really though, there was only one person they could call.

The phone didn’t even get a chance to ring before– “Connor Benjamin Green, if you’re not dead, I’m gonna make you wish you were!” Stacy shrieked down the line.

Devon yanked the phone away from his ear and put it on speaker. “His middle name is Benjamin?”

Stacy went quiet. The clock ticked on and Devon watched the door, trying to hold back a smile. 

“...Devon?”

“Speaking,” He said with a wide grin.

“Oh my god. I-It’s been–” She laughed and it sounded teary. “Wait, where’s Connor?”

“At the store. Hotel shampoo wasn’t really cutting it. Mostly I just needed time to call you.”

He could hear her take a deep breath, all business once more. “Right. Is he okay?”

“For a given definition. Nothing bleeding or broken, but he is acting seriously strange. Aggressive and pushy about little things."

“Yeah, we have might have an idea about that. Before you guys disappeared, he was acting the same. I just thought it was…other stuff. What about you? Are you okay?”

“For a given definition.”

“Devon.”

“Traumatized as fuck, I can barely walk, chewing is a task made in hell, and I keep fainting every few minutes, but that’s kind of on purpose.”

“What?”

“So! If it’s not ‘other stuff’ then why did Connor kidnap me in the dead of night?”

“Don’t think I didn’t hear that. The people Connor’s been working with have been dealing with these things called Horrors. People who have been infected by corrupted Power through water and are turning into hulking rage monsters with gray skin and glowing blue eyes.”

“Don’t forget claws, fangs, and a taste for human flesh.” Ava cut in. “Good to hear your voice, Devon.” 

“Better to hear yours.” He wished he could sit and talk to them forever. It was weird to think that he actually could when this was all over. “Is it like when Jane possessed people?”

“Not exactly. I wasn’t kidding about the taste for human flesh, but the bigger worry is the homicidal tendencies, a non-negotiable symptom as far as we know.”

“Is there a cure?” Despite his efforts, the roots of the weeds didn’t seem to be going anywhere. The best they’d done was cut them down to half of their original size, but who knew how long that would last.

“Lucas and my coven are working on it. Nothing final yet, but soon. For Connor, we might not need it.” Ava sounded distant as she called out, “Power kid!”

The voices went too quiet and then–”Hello?” A deep, raspy, monotone voice that was vaguely familiar.

“Power kid, I presume.”

“Vesper, actually. I cleansed the spots that had the worst of the corruption and it worked. I haven’t tried to cleanse a person, but it shouldn't be that different. I just need to get close enough without dying, only thing, I’m not sure how well my Power will work outside of Westchester.”

“Our best bet,” Stacy said, “is to get Connor back to Westchester and heal him here. It’d be easier if he’d just come back himself, but we’re running out of time. How far are you guys?”

Right. Time to get back to reality. San Francisco. That was all he had to say and they could figure out the rest from there. “Actually, I’ve been healing him, or trying to.” Why did he say that?

“Is it working?” Vesper asked.

No, not really. “Yes, definitely. I can probably get him back to Westchester by tomorrow.” Why did he say that?

Ava sounded unsure. “I don’t know. There isn’t exactly a good way to tell when someone’s about to snap. It might already be too late.”

Devon was a lying liar who lied and had also been on the phone for a good 40 minutes. “It’s not too late. I need to put the phone back, but I promise I’ll see you guys tomorrow by 11:59.”

Stacy tried to say something else, but Devon hung up and replaced the phone without a trace of evidence. They climbed back into bed just as Connor’s boots hit the stairs again. 

What the hell had they just done?

[ravagedarkness]

Spider-Man: Home Rebuilt, Chapter 8: The List

We spent the rest of the day playing video games, talking, and watching movies. By the time we got done watching the last movie – The Witch: Part 1. The Subversion – it was pretty late. Scott walked in. After introducing himself to my friends, he urged us to stay the night. A few phone calls to parents later, everyone was situated. Ned and I took Craig’s room while he made his way out to work his radio job. Meanwhile, MJ and Betty were sleeping in Kitty’s room. The spare room was left untouched. Kitty said that it was too dusty for guests at the moment, but I knew it was because that’s where they had my stuff stored – specifically, my Spider-Man gear.

The next morning, we all got up and found Craig sleeping on the couch. After we waked him up, we all made breakfast. At the urging of Craig, Scott did the whole “blast the middle of the coin” trick to demonstrate his powers. Once breakfast was done and we all ate, MJ, Ned, and Betty said their goodbyes, but not before they got the phone numbers of Kitty, Craig, and Scott.

Once they were out, Kitty closed the door behind them, turned around, and looked at me. “Okay, Peter, we got to talk,” she said. “But before that, I need to make sure – are you okay?”

“From the dart?” I inquired from my spot. After Kitty nodded, I nodded back. “Yeah, I’m fine. I’ve been okay since yesterday.”

“Good. So, next question – what’s the next step?”

“What do you mean?”

“What she wants to know is what we are going to do next after that incident,” Craig answered from the kitchen. He walked over with two bottles of water in his hands. He handed one to Scott, who was seated on the recliner. “That whole situation was a set up.”

“You think so?” I asked. Craig walked over and sat on the sofa as Kitty took a seat next to me.

“From what Craig and Kitty told me, it seems so,” Scott stated. He twisted the cap off of his bottle before he took a sip. “Don’t get me wrong. You are Spider-Man, and Kitty and Craig are extremely capable. But even the three of you should have had more trouble taking all of those people on. Add to the fact that you were the only one darted, I’m thinking you were targeted.”

“What else is new?” I said bitterly. “But the question is who is it this time?”

“I don’t know,” Kitty said with a shrug. “We became friends not too long ago – not long enough to know who are the Jokers and Riddlers in your life.”

“I can talk to a few people in Harlem,” Craig offered. “Anything that went down in Manhattan, they’re likely to know about it.” He then touched his hair. “I gotta swing by Pop’s Barber Shop anyway. I’m due for a cut. I might as well kill two birds with one stone.”

“You do that,” Scott said. “We still have the dart, so I’m going to take it to an old friend of mine. Hopefully he can find what was in it.” He then looked at Kitty. “And you… it’d be pretty convenient if certain police reports were acquired by us, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, it would,” Kitty said slyly. “It’d be pretty convenient if we got it this afternoon.”

“Guys,” I spoke up. “Look, I appreciate that you guys want to help but…”

“Peter,” Craig cut in with a solemn tone. “I swear, if you say ‘I can handle this myself’, ‘I don’t want to get you guys hurt’, or the like, I’m going to hit you upside the head with this bottle.” I kept quiet. Somehow, I knew he was serious. “We’re helping you on this. This is in our wheelhouse. And had we not been there with you yesterday, you probably would have got scooped up and taken somewhere. So, sorry bro, but consider yourself a part of our group now. Wish I could say you get medical and dental benefits, because something tells me you’ll need it.”

“…” I wanted to retort. I really did. But he was right. So, instead I scoffed. “So do we have a team name or something?”

“We used to be called The X-Men,” Kitty said. “But that changed.”

“Why?”

“The Blip and The Sokovia Accords,” Craig replied. “There’s more to it, but those are the main bullet points.”

“Speaking of bullet points, there’s one more thing I want to talk to you about.” Kitty stood up. “But I’ll have to tell you that on the road. I got somewhere to be. So, grab your stuff. I’ll drop you off home.”

It took me a little bit of time to get dressed and gather my stuff. After that, I was out on the road, riding shotgun in Kitty’s Acura TSX. The car ride was quiet for a bit, with the sound of Kitty’s GPS breaking the silence every now and again. After a while, she finally spoke up.

“What are you going to do about your friends?” she asked.

I was looking out of the window when she asked that. “What do you mean?” I replied.

“I mean, are you going to tell them, or are you going to keep them at arm’s length?”

I sighed as I turned my head towards her. “I don’t know. I wasn’t even supposed to get close to them again.”

“What changed your mind?”

“You know how Scott is my GED teacher?” Kitty brought her car to a stop behind a car at a red light.

“Yeah,” Kitty replied. “I have to have to admit, it’s quite the coincidence that he happens to be teaching Spider-Man.”

I let loose a short chuckle. “Coincidences are a huge part of my life,” I said only semi-sarcastically. “Anyway, one day, I came to class super early, and he just knew I had something on my mind.”

At that, Kitty chuckled. “Sounds like Scott, alright.”

I smiled briefly. “Yeah. So… ever since The Spell, I thought I would be okay with my decision as long as I knew that MJ and Ned were okay. But every single time I walk out that coffee shop, I keep on second guessing myself on if I made the right decision. And I… kind of talked to Scott about it one day when I was super early to class, avoiding a lot of details.”

“And what did he tell you?”

“He told me he was in a situation where he cut himself off from people he was close to and found out he was hurting himself as much as he was hurting others.” I looked forward through the windshield. “Also, he told me that, even though Hindsight is 20/20, it’ll still take a while to understand if I made the right decision.”

“I see.”

I looked at her. “…Do you think I made the right decision?”

“No, I don’t think you made the right decision,” she replied bluntly. “I didn’t want to say anything because I didn’t think it’d be fair for me to do so – I wasn’t in your shoes. But since you asked… when you told us everything, I kept thinking to myself ‘Wow… this boy just keeps on messing up’. Honestly, you handled that whole situation badly from the start.”

“What else should have I done then?”

“You don’t want me to answer that, Peter,” Kitty warned. The light turned green, and Kitty gently accelerated. “The only thing that is going to happen is you feeling even worse about something you can’t change. But here is what I can tell you. See, Scott has a thing for imparting knowledge on people, as you know. As you probably guessed he’s been through a lot. And, there was something he told me that I, in turn, have told Craig when he was in a similar situation.”

“And that is?”

“Unless you were the one who put them in a situation that forced their hand, you can’t hold yourself responsible for other people’s decisions.”

“But I did put them in that position,” I said. “I let them in.”

“Yeah, exactly,” Kitty agreed. “You LET them in. You didn’t force them in. You didn’t force them to stay. You opened up to them and showed them what your life is like. They could have distanced themselves from you and decide they didn’t want to be a part of any of that, but they didn’t. They decided that being close to you was worth it. And as for Betty… well… I don’t know, since you guys were only kind of friends before, but you said she was still in your corner, so there’s that.”

I went quiet for a bit, digesting what she said. And what she said made sense. It made so much sense that the part of me that wanted to keep my distance couldn’t even come up with an excuse.

“So what should I do?” I asked quietly.

Kitty pulled off to the side of the road, right in front of my building. After putting the car in park, she turned in her seat towards me. She gave me a gentle smile. “Well, that’s for you to decide. Now, I still don’t know everything about you. But that story of The Spell told me a lot. When you were telling us that story, I could feel the sadness and hurt in you when you talked about your friends, especially when you had to make them forget and you saw them being happy afterwards. And then when you hung out with them and I could see how joyous you were.” Her smile widened a bit. “Especially when you were in the kitchen with MJ.” I shook my head in annoyance, though I still blushed. “Now, whatever you do with that is up to you, but me personally? I wouldn’t let my life as a hero be the reason I don’t maintain and cherish relationships with people I hold dear.”

I looked at her for a moment. I then scoffed and shook my head. “…You remind me of Aunt May.”

“I’ve been told I’m wise beyond my years,” Kitty chuckled out. “If any info comes up regarding yesterday, we’ll let you know. Now get out of here and get some rest. And I mean a full rest. I better not hear about Spider-Man getting involved in any trouble today. Anything goes down, let Craig and I handle it, okay?”

“Okay. Thanks for the ride.”

“You’re welcome. See you later.”

“Likewise.”

I picked up my bag from the floor before I opened the door and stepped out of the vehicle. I closed the door behind before I waved at Kitty. As Kitty waved and drove off, I watched her leave. I then turned my head as a black SUV drove by in the opposite direction. It was a Hummer EV. But what really got my attention was the logo.

“Hammer Industries,” I muttered to myself. I raised my eyebrows briefly as I turned to the front door of the building. “I forgot that company was still around.”

Once I was in my apartment, I looked at the space I was in. I shook my head.

This apartment was pitiful.

I walked over to my bed, dropping my bag as I did so. I then dropped onto my bed and rolled over onto my back. I looked up at the ceiling for a few moments. I was thinking about what Kitty said. And I wished she didn’t make so much sense. Inside of my head, memories of the events leading up to The Spell clashed against Kitty’s words, with Scott’s words backing the latter up. And for the first time, the memories were losing. And I knew why.

I wanted my friends back.

I closed my eyes, just wanting to give my mind a rest for a little bit. I then felt my phone vibrate. I sighed as I reached into my pocket and pulled out the phone. Seeing that I got a message, I checked it.

“Betty Brant added Kitty Pryde and Craig Pierre, Jr. the group.”

I couldn’t help scoff. Of course she did.

“Hey guys,” I typed into group chat.

“American Idiots… what is this?” Craig messaged.

“Good question,” Kitty added.

“It’s a group chat for the six of us,” Betty messaged. “It was four until I added you guys. I figured the name was clever.”

“Why would it be clever?” Craig asked. A few moments later, he sent another text. “Oh… Wow. Just, wow!”

“That is clever,” Kitty remarked.

“Just a warning. Betty is going to act like a mother to you guys. >.>”

“Oh haha MJ,” Betty sarcastically wrote.

“She only does it because she cares,” Ned wrote in her defense.

“Don’t worry, Kitty is the same way,” Craig replied.

“I like to take care of my friends. Sue me,” Kitty wrote.

“Anywho.” Betty wrote. “I added you guys because they’re doing a makeup showing of American Idiot on Friday and I think it’d be great for all of us to come. Hopefully, we can make it through the whole show without gunfire.”

“Your lips, God’s ears,” Craig replied.

“Also, Peter, I got you that interview. I hope Wednesday at 9 A.M. isn’t a bad time for you.”

“No, it’s not,” I replied. “What do I need?”

“A clean set of business clothes and a portfolio.”

“And for you not to get shot along the way,” Ned added.

“Oh, wow.”

“Oh snap!” Craig reacted.

“That’s my line, Ned!” MJ added.

“You walked right to that one, lol,” Kitty wrote.

“Screw you guys!” I texted. But I couldn’t help but laugh out loud. Ned got me good.

After the shenanigans died down, I put the phone down and closed my eyes. I napped for a few hours before I woke up in time to make lunch. After I stretched and gout up from my bed, I looked over at my desk. That list was still there from yesterday morning, along with the pen. I walked over to the desk and looked down at the list. I read each item.

1. Make sure MJ and Ned are okay.

2. Get close to them again (including Betty as well, since we’re even friendlier now).

3. Decide on whether or not to tell them the truth.

4. Figure out how to do so… and prepare for the consequences.

I looked over the list a few times. I then picked up the pen and took the cap off of it. I drew a line through the first two items on the list. Item number three was staring right back at me. I wouldn’t have even entertained the idea. But Scott and Kitty’s words were still in my head, still fighting off every reason I had to keep MJ and Ned at arms’ length.

I chuckled as I capped the pen and set it down. After I talked to MJ right after The Spell, I was bent on just being alone and staying aloof to everyone. And yet, in the span of a week, I ended up befriending MJ, Ned, and Betty again while striking up new friendships with two random people I met in a theatre and my GED teacher. Add to the fact that I’m apparently a part of a hero team now – whatever Scott, Craig, and Kitty call themselves – and that idea just went out the window. While I wasn’t ready to have the talk with MJ, Ned, and Betty yet, I given up on not having friends.

Though, as far as failed missions went, maybe that was an opposite of something to be worked up over.

[peachpitband]

I quit my job as a preschool teacher today with no notice and by god… the power I felt. I’ve quit jobs before, but never with no notice and like it is insanely rewarding, especially if you fucking hate your employers, hahaha. We already had a teacher shortage, and I left at the beginning of a week I was scheduled to stay late many days to cover different classrooms, so now they’re extra fucked 😈

Background: I found out that I had lost nearly a week of PTO yesterday because of a policy I was unaware of for the past seven months. I sent the payroll lady a pretty long email saying how I would like to opt out of this now that I know the full extent of it, and like one sentence of this multi-paragraph beast of an email implied I was sort of upset that the person who is in charge of payroll and time cards didn’t let me know that I was essentially bleeding PTO all year.

Well, my boss takes anything even close to criticism as an attack because she’s a fake-nice rich entitled white lady who everybody pretends to respect for some reason. The way she took some of the critiques I gave her gave me the impression that nobody has ever been honest with her about how childish and innappropriate her behavior in the workplace is. She just kept repeating how she felt attacked and frustrated in order to avoid answering some serious questions that I had.

So yeah, we had a meeting today, and we both came in pretty hot. But it was all basically over the moment I told her, “it just feels to me like you’re trying to paint yourself as the victim here.”

And like… SHE WAS! Every few turns she had to speak she used up by going, “oh I feel like you’re assuming the worst about me, you’re diminishing my accomplishments in this company, wow, can I even get a word in? Maybe I should just let you talk the rest of the time.”

But yeah anyway she told me that that was “the most disrespectful thing anyone has ever said to me in the workplace…” am I weird to think that that’s kind of fucking gnarly? Like, this lady has been in this field for 30+ years and I’m the first person to call her out for her emotional manipulation??? Whew. I hope I live rent free in her mind for the rest of her career hahaha.

Anyway……. The US sucks and if I wasn’t a US historian I would have already started my process to move somewhere the fuck else.

[the-firebird69]

It took him about an hour and 45 minutes to do the laundry and people are pestering him and bothering him the machines were not working correctly being tampered with he kept expressing a lot of dismay with people and so did Mac and didn't do anything so they're in there for a big power move that they prepped yesterday and they're supposed to like make this change it didn't work and stopped working halfway through so they're getting pissed off and start pushing the buttons and they were trying to grab both of them kidnap them to the courthouse to put them in prison in reverse everything they're taking over the prison and forcing them into Miami and Tampa Sarasota and taking over and it didn't work it would have the opposite effect anyways and John remillard is not respected because he doesn't know it no they don't know what the effect is they're stupid they start thinking about it we're women and we be out here maybe taking her stuff is the tip of the iceberg these people are stupid and don't know I don't want to go to prison with Mac to accelerate the import of Max and it started screaming something it happened with mental hospitals yeah it was backwards and Tommy F was doing it. And Becca knows about it they called her and she said you're doing it wrong you're doing better than we have some of the gibberish works and we didn't think it would because of it and it was not planned we were going to all die so I gave you a break and Lady Gaga didn't and it was horrible she's a b**** and she is now not allowed there and she shouldn't be she's very rude it's a moron and says she's Jewish

A lot of other stuff happening and although it's nice to help him out we need to get a lot more teams in here so we don't have to focus on it every single week and every day. Now we're having our children do it in their psycorp and they don't like these people. And they're going to do the job and their parents will be embarrassed a little and get to it cuz you keep asking you to come here and help this is ridiculous we're understand here this is the leadership boy am I getting sick of this s*** you people have to start listening to orders and commands and get people in here I'm sending it how many from each group.

-cuz other things happening and they are that the Charlotte county sheriff was brought down to 300. That's right there at 3:50 still and it took forever. But now we have it okay and it's going to continue to be lessened every few weeks now everyday.

-punta Gorda police have been talking about how many people are fired every day every day and really the number of people that they have fired is only 10 including five today

-the morlock you're making homes out of beta tested inventions for Sunday hours I want them dead I want them dead now what BG is doing with the poet is fine they plan to sit there and ruin it and he silenced it they don't like him but what he's doing and stuff they should do and they know it most of them are idiots been around the ruining stuff that's been around forever I want them dead and I'm putting it out there and I want people to listen to it and he said these things are dear to us they have a lot of meaning and people like me and Thor Freya have been going through hell but they've been going through hell for a long time and these things are not bubbles to them there's a lot of memories from a lot of people that helped and were saved because of it and I want people to pay attention to this and to understand what it is and to find people who are connected to it if you remember and to ask them to help I want that rescue ship salvage I want them kicked out and dead and I want the whole thing put back together in our possession now and I want people to assign themselves to it as you can you're permitted to but this instance because it does the work and it gets the object but really you have friends and family and a lot of you might not be connected directly but indirectly that someone will save that helps save you and my country there's a lot of that by cadre Zeus says in Hera says she was in there helping. Is a lot of laughter and jokes but they're those things ain't a lot of people are very seasick and they got out and they were on deck for like 3 hours each and the oxygenate It go below feel sick come back up they give the medicine they feel better but they said who designed that damn thing I'm so sorry seriously they're making them submersible there's no reason not to as long as you know how to stay away from ships and stuff they decided to try and do that so you have to be below the waves and the Periscope won't reach up high enough so you need sonar and it cost more but it's not that much so they start to try and figure it out and they did let me figure out how to do it and it looks like a submersible so I can float tons of them loves it and they felt very happy to be able to do it and you didn't find a lot of idiots

-there's a huge number of people that understand okay so they're trying to shut down the highway and they're going down and seeing who and why and it's these clones and it was a certain thing in Philadelphia and symbology and they got the date and everything and they're going after a certain people

-there's a lot of Port Charlotte workers the city of Port Charlotte that were fired they're about 2,500 left and they fired 500 this morning and you can't say they didn't deserve it on their way out there flipping people off saying things very mean and say things about Mac and more so we finally got up with a bunch of them because we know you're not to blame but you look like Max and we blame them and he said we've had enough of you. And we did get out of them what they're after they want to take the other person's jobs they feel that they're firing people. Or they can take their stuff and they're justified and that's our own people and we did catch up with a few more and they were horrendous and so we grab them and took them in but I'll tell you what it's not a bad idea to do it slowly it starts fights between them then they man up then they get rid of themselves and that's what they're doing they're going to try and attack the United States at nine points they have around 5 trillion lined up that's a lot folks then there are 20 trillion lined up for the sea you don't have ships and they're going to start building wooden ships and take all day and they're gigantic and gross we have another thing going on these people say our son is taped at the laundromat they're trying to get the tapes and they can't the max are moving in and they're pulling people out in order to get out of tapes we need those tapes too she was pushing him and the same thing is when they're leaving. So let's hope they get that but we can't let them have the tapes so how they're going to know so we are fighting for the tapes and for him and he appreciates it and there's a lot of fighting going on down there by the way down at the courthouse area it's a good day to stay away from there

-along with Charlotte county there's in city of Charlotte there's a city of punta Gorda at 1500 people and 500 fired this morning and a couple strolled into the laundromat and they were told that they had to leave and they didn't some activated until our son left and called the sheriff in them out back and people didn't notice out front for a while and they finally did and they said we're coming after you in a whole bunch came down and started arresting the ones across the street and took them directly to prison not jail and yeah the neighborhood will be reduced..

-all the agencies have been sitting there at 4,000 in Florida law enforcement like 2000 and the CIA and $5,000 in the NSA and the ATF $3,000 FBI all those are cut in half no it's now 3500 in Florida law enforcement, 1500 in the CIA, 4500 in the nsa, and ATF has 100 workers left well plus 50 who float in and out. They're constantly being sought it's the fake agencies but they didn't put a Target so it's kind of floating around at the same number it's about 20,000 armed Florida the wildlife people and they are going to call in 10,000 there's also 50,000 citizen service or whatever they call it is it going to put them in prison and they will continue to do so with the same character until they're dead today and that's a lot everybody got pissed off after this morning but they already started it and they said this should have happened after but boy we mad now so they started enacting things they want his face to be brighter they want to stop the crap in his life and they want him to be with some funds now we decided that he should write a letter to storm Western development and they're up in arms about it said they helped him give him a job and all those crap and now they're saying they don't want to pay anything and my throat said I don't know of any money and he and our sunset I'm not leaving without it so you said I'll go get my gun and a sunset go get it it looks him says no I don't think he's thinking straight you know it's a revolver what size we were and he said laughing and said I don't know what you're talking about said mostly doesn't work and he got afraid and he said I need it out of here anyways you have to ask HR for a 401k and it takes like a week it really does that's just leaving is flipping on the bird saying nobody says that to me he comes back and he says I'm nobody and you didn't see him and my coach couldn't see him from where he was and to this days he's a massive spook Stan says you don't know when he's walking one way or the other you can't tell if he's around and I've been spooked by him like a hundred times and he says well other people are doing it now remember to just lay me off a job usually don't do anything unless people are trying to kidnap me and these people keep trying ask her if you have to and he said something about Garth and the explosion it says who the hell is saying you do nothing I said nobody nobody witnessed it all gone cuz I leave and I said it was him and I'll kill each other and that's the function lot of people are doing stuff that's so horrendous it makes you want to rip your own skin off and he started saying this I can't stand it here I can't stand anyone I said this is worse than PC why it's probably that stupid name p God and he says in this block he says this blows his idiots and says well I can't go back to PC can I so they started laughing and they're laughing and son doesn't know what it's about and he's leaving and Stan went inside and wept a little and said this sucks so bad these people are so dumb and he told Mac the whole thing and it's probably by Tommy f and it is we're going to publish to get it out but there's more happening here

Thor Freya

[springfieldblues]

my long ass review for S32E03 Now Museum, Now You Don’t

warning: LONG because i rambled about history more than i thought i would

id been looking forward to this one because i like art history, especially after seeing how they tried their best to stick to historical accuracy in the previous episode I, Carumbus. this time however….they didnt try that hard. i dont know why i thought theyd go through that sort of trouble again LMAO

but its okay, i dont really expect the simpsons to be the paragon of historical accuracy or anything. especially in anthology episodes told through a particular character's lens (in this case, lisa, whos already feverish so whatever)

first i just wanna say that this is, i guess, less of a review and more of an accidental list of history fun facts. so im just gonna get my general thoughts out of the way first.

the episode was fun! to me at least haha. i mean it got me to think and do a lot of research on my own so that must count for something. besides a couple of really weird ones, the jokes were good. anthology episodes tend to be….not that good but i thought this one was one of the better ones so far. idk.

anyway on to lisanardo da vinky its the renaissance! jesus christ the italian accents in the beginning of this segment were annoying as hell but i also feel like that was the joke lmao. ill be real i kind of tuned out for a second there when grampa started rambling so idk what he said.

i told myself i wouldnt get nitpicky with historical accuracy if the jokes were funny (final edit: so that was a lie) but this meh bit with the pizza guys and mascots was really not worth ignoring the fact that its impossible for italy to have any tomato-based food in the 15th century (tomatoes were brought to europe from the americas in the 16th century, and pizza as we know it today—flatbread, cheese, tomato—originated in the late 18th century)

oh this next part was kind of legit tho. lisanardo, like the real leonardo, became andrea del verrochio's apprentice at his workshop. i loved this next bit:

"Whoever paints the sweetest cherub will have the honor of having MY name signed on their work. That's what great artists do!"

SO YEAH as it turns out, lisanardo painted the sweetest cherubs. the painting here is called The Baptism of Christ, and the real leonardo assisted verrochio in finishing it. specifically, he painted the cherubs in the corner.

this causes verrochio to quit and go someplace with less talented people: a music school (yes, verrochio did quit painting after getting owned by young leo and his mad angel painting skills. he never did anything with music tho, he was more of a sculptor)

alongside lisanardo, in mr largo-verrochio's workshop we have barticelli (botticelli bart), dolphatello (donatello dolph), ralphael (raphael...ralph) and mediocrito (no one that i know of. sorry milhouse) (and kearney i guess but they dont refer to him by name). botticelli and donatello are said to have also been apprentices at verrochio's workshop, but raphael came a couple of decades later so he couldnt have been there. and donatello was too old so that claim is a bit questionable. but anyway

it IS true that leonardo's peers envied him, to the point where he was anonymously and purposefully accused of being gay (a major crime punishable by death in 15th century florence) while he was still working at verrochio's workshop

we are then treated by what im pretty sure is the fourth time the show has used 'at seventeen' by janis ian, this time sung by a dejected lisanardo (man they really do keep making yeardley sing these days huh) who only wishes to be appreciated and not envied.

"I'll show them all! I'll show them all in a secret diary that no one will decipher for 400 years!"

some of lisanardo's future inventions. who wouldve known

so after barticelli, for some reason (revenge??? or something?? what was his plan here idgi) steals lisanardo's diaries full of blueprints of her inventions and takes them to mr burns who i have to assume is pope alexander VI here, they decide to use her inventions for war.

"With these, we can kill the most evil people in the world!! ....Slightly different Christians."

leo actually did this of his own accord. im surprised this is what they decided to do with lisanardo instead of talking about leo's love of nature and vegetarianism (not a single mention of that in this episode? come on...) then again, trying to do good only to end up indirectly making things worse is a very standard lisa storyline. i guess they didnt want to miss the chance to have evil pope burns (very fitting, especially for that era since they were all about money and controlling the people)

so lisanardo decides to leave for france, unlike the real leonardo who was more or less persuaded by his ultimate fanboy king francis I to move to france.

"Lisanardo, I have many questions. Why are you hitting yourself? A nerd says 'what'? And how is it possible that I am rubber and you are glue? Et cetera, et cetera."

that line may seem a little random, like hes just nelson saying nelson things (and i mean, obviously he is) but the real francis also "had an unquenchable thirst for learning, and Leonardo was the world’s best source of experimental knowledge. He could teach the king about almost any subject there was to know, from how the eye works to why the moon shines." so yeah, he did have many questions and lisanardo, finally being appreciated for her intellect, was happy to answer them all. its very interesting how lisa assigned this role to nelson in her retelling of da vinci’s life :^)

and so she lived the rest of her days in france, nat king cole's 'mona lisa' plays because duh, and they make a da vinci code reference because duh. and the segment ends. and not a single time did they show the actual mona lisa painting. the fuck?

(ngl i was fully expecting bart to say 'leonardo da vinky' for a second here)

so this next segment is about french impressionist painters, most likely the batignolles group, a name adopted by the early representatives of impressionism. its much more vague than the lisanardo segment since no one here is referred to by name (except moe, more on him in a sec) but i dont feel like it really matters in this case. bart is prrrrooobably claude monet but its hard to say, this segment is kind of a mish-mash of a lot of things. also i gotta say i really liked how lisa introduced the story to bart with an 'if you hate the formal study of art' and not 'if you hate art' because thats exactly my headcanon. i LOVE the concept of artist bart and whenever its referenced it just makes perfect sense to me.

anyway the segment opens in 1863 at the école des beaux-arts (back then it was actually known as the académie des beaux-arts), preserver of traditional french art styles. skinner reviews his students’ paintings one by one. praises the plain, unimaginative paintings depicting your typical european countryside landscapes. very run-of-the-mill (haha get it...cuz theres….a windmill) (although the real académie didnt approve of such basic stuff, they wanted artists to draw epic historical and mythological scenes) then he gets to barts painting and he gives him an F- because the painting made him think.

(the paintings in this scene arent real famous paintings as far as i know but they are inspired by real paintings enough to get the point across)

in comes barney dressed as bacchus as a model for the students to sketch, which i just loved:

barney: “You prefer robe open or robe off?” skinner: “Just cover your privates with this walnut shell.” barney: “Whoa!!! So roomy!”

skinner gasps in horror at bart’s sketch, which “looks nothing like him” and bart explains that “it shouldn’t; we’re making the art that we feel because we can’t compete with a camera.” damn, you go bart. take that, realism. draw what you feel!!

(also no, you didnt need to hold still for 17 hours for a daguerreotype. 30 min tops.)

nelson haw-haw of the week: FOIE-gras!

so here they are at the moulin rouge (“enjoy it before baz luhrmann ruins it” hey shut up. i love that movie), which wouldnt be built for another 26 years, but it is the most widely known gathering place for bohemians in the public consciousness so i can understand why they went with the moulin. nelson delivers this anachronistic line:

“This époque keeps getting beller and beller!”

which alludes to la belle époque, the golden age of france usually dated from 1880 to 1914. made me snort so ill let that slide

and heres moe! as henri de toulouse-lautrec, who was actually born a year after the year this segment is set in. yo moe szyslak he was just 1

toulouse-moetrec introduces himself as the chronicler of the demimonde (not an actual job). an iconic figure associated with the moulin rouge (largely due to his affinity for alcohol and prostitutes), toulouse-lautrec was also a painter, having illustrated a series of posters for the moulin himself. he simply had to be in this segment, anachronisms be damned, just because they decided to include the moulin. cant have one without the other.

and yes he did have a walking cane where he kept his liquor.

i love how everyone drinks absinthe in this place. theyre bohemians what else would they drink

toulouse-moetrec points out that barts paintings are the greatest thing hes ever seen (and hes seen like five things!) and that hes a genius. milhouse realizes that they should stop doing what the teacher says and use their own minds to instead...start doing what bart says lmao. to the easels!

next we have skinner hyping up chalmers about the art his students made for the salon de paris, an art exhibition that the emperor of france will attend. he assures him that none of these paintings will encourage debate, provoke thought or be out of place at a dentist’s office. when they unveil the art, theyre both SHOCKED at how scandalous the paintings actually are.

this reaction was kind of accurate. impressionism was severely rejected at the salon de paris, due to paintings not looking finished enough to them, they thought they were ugly and vulgar for depicting nudity in a contemporary setting (historical and mythological nudity was fine). these impressionist paintings were sent to the salon de refusés, which is. yeah. the place where they sent the rejects. the salon de refusés does not make an appearance but this scene makes a reference to it when the artists get expelled from the royal salon. also:

“What about our student loans?” “Oh they’ll be refunded. We are not barbarians, I mean, come on.”

(god if only)

so the painters are down because they want the emperor to actually see their paintings. toulouse-moetrec pipes in once again with an idea.

“There is one thing the emperor loves more than anything.” “France?” “No, he hates France.”

apparently the emperor really loves cheese, which makes sense since its napoleon III (who loved cheese) and homer (who loves cheese.) so the painters roll into the salon inside a giant wheel of cheese (obviously.) as lenny said, “Eh, you know French cheese. Very runny.” napoleon III chases after the wheel into a room, where the wheel falls apart after getting chomped on by the emperor. now that they got his attention, the painters proudly show the emperor their impressionist art, which he couldnt be more indifferent about because he just wants to eat his cheese dammit, and he awards them with the royal medallion just to kind of get them out of his way. skinner immediately starts kissing ass (as he does) until marge’s like ‘hey wait a minute. you expelled these students from the royal salon’ and an executioner immediately starts ominously measuring skinners neck.

“Uh, sir...is your tongue sticking out because you’re dead or because you’re mad at me?”

and thats the end of that lmao (gore in this episode, gore in the last episode, and next week we’re getting gore too cuz its THOH, what the hell is goin on)

we get a short intermission with maggie, who wants a story for her too! lisa tells her that renaissance artists loved to put babies in their paintings, especially baby angels.

here she is showing her The Triumph Of Galatea by raphael:

King David Playing The Harp by peter paul reubens:

and a very simplified version of pretty much any depiction of hell by hyeronimus bosch lmao:

not much else to say about this one, really. but i really liked that sky!

the last segment is about frida kahlo and diego rivera. or as bart puts it ‘the one about a fat guy whos wife is too good for him.’ i was REALLY looking forward to this one because i love frida and i thought itd be a cool opportunity for animators to go bonkers and do really cool shit with her art as inspiration…..but the segment is not about frida, its about diego and his selling out to capitalism. and its also yet another story with homer and marge drama. no funky cool animation here. sigh i guess i’ll take it

the story begins in 1929 at la casa azul, frida’s home (now museum dedicated to her life and work.) frida and diego are getting married. this courtyard definitely did not look this way yet back in 1929. also theres something very cringy yet funny about lovejoy saying spanish words the way he does, i honestly cant decide how i feel about that one

the writers know theyre being cringy with their gringoness so they go along with it.

moe: “Spanish for ‘best wishes’!” mel: “Spanish for ‘congratulations’!” bumblebee man: “Spanish for ‘muy bueno’!”

OH YEAH BUMBLEBEE MAN this is his new voice actor, eric lopez! hes not mexican but its still great to finally have a latino actor voicing a latino character and hes very excited to be part of the show so i hope to hear more of him!! im rooting for him

el barto/zorro makes an appearance which i am very confused about. he has jack shit to do with frida and diego and mexico in the 20s-30s. el zorro was set in the spanish california of the early 19th century. their use of the original theme song makes me think they just wanted to flex their disney privileges tbh

lets not talk about that that whole scene was bad

anyway diego announces he and frida are going to new york, without even asking her first. frida is obviously pissed.

“Don’t worry, as a woman, you’ll be treated with much more respect in America.”

so in new york, diego is having a bit of a business meeting with mr burns as one of the members of the rockefellers, who is commissioning him to draw a mural for the rockefeller center. its kinda funny how he refers to him and frida as socialists even though they were very much communists lmao its okay you can say it. ok so far, but then frida says ‘yes, we hate the capitalists! right now, a young socialist is being born who will take them down! mr. bernie sanders. i hope hes quick about it’ and that was a simple enough joke and couldve been left at that but then its immediately followed by this weird as fuck family guy-esque cutaway gag to bernie as a baby:

“Getting a cootie shot should not cost your lunch money. And if you don’t listen to me, listen to the Bernie Babies! What? Everybody’s got goons.” *larger babies start beating up this other baby* “I disavow that, and welcome it.”

this confused me so much that i had to ask one of my american friends to help me understand, but even she was like ‘uhhh yeah thats a weird joke,’ especially now that hes been out of the race for months (then again these episodes take almost a year to produce. i guess they couldnt be bothered to replace it with something more relevant.) whatever that was weird and confusing and unfunny moving on

frida is pretty irked that diego is going through with this deal. after all, it goes against everything they believe in. im not sure how the real frida felt about diego doing the mural, but she did feel a bit of rage during her visit to the united states, especially the obvious disparity between rich and poor. she hated having to interact with capitalists and found americans very boring. in this segment, frida seems to be acting more like the american communist party, which diego got kicked out of for accepting commissions from wealthy patrons. in any case, frida is pretty upset about this whole thing.

and finally we get the first and only kind of surreal frida moment. kinda. maybe. its more cartoonish than anything but im desperate ok

interesting how they felt like they had to add a “don’t smoke” in big letters after showing patty and selma flying away on their giant cigarettes. i wonder if this is something theyre making them do now? i remember hearing something about them toning down patty and selma’s smoking

diego comes home to frida, drunk as hell, followed by the marx brothers. i cant believe they didnt make a marxism joke come on it was RIGHT THERE. THE MARX BROTHERS. KARL MARX. COME ON

frida paints her feelings.

this makes diego realize that frida is a genius and he is not half the artist she is. he proclaims he will now show his awe of her by sleeping with other women, starting “an hour ago.” to which frida replies, “and i will start sleeping with other women, starting two hours ago.” yes this was pretty much their relationship. though im just wondering how the hell did diego not know frida was this kind of artist until now? i know homers an idiot but jeez. art was how frida and diego met, diego knew from the get-go that frida was an incredible artist. i guess the fame got to his head or something. again, homer just being stupid.

“well enough already, while the art is still deco, okay?”

its time for the mural diego painted, Man At The Crossroads, to be unveiled:

rockefeller examines it. good and great so far, and then...uh oh

“Who’s that fellow…? With the beard, and the bolshevik smile…” “That’s the founder of Soviet Russia, Lenin!”

“B-b-but he’s a communist!” “Oh he just attended a couple of meetings.”

rockefeller will not have this communist in the temple to capitalism that is the rockefeller center, so he orders diego to paint over it. diego stands his ground and refuses. despite rockefeller’s threats, diego says that theres only one person he wants to be proud of him no matter what and in true homer & marge fashion, frida is touched by this. they happily leave the rockefeller center.

now, the real story of Man At The Crossroads and the rockefeller center was actually not that different. as soon as the rockefellers found out diego had snuck in a portrait of lenin into the mural, they ordered him to paint over it, to which he refused. diego even offered to include abraham lincoln and even american abolitionists in the mural as a compromise, but the rockefellers simply did not want any references to communism whatsoever. they did not complain about the hammer and sickle, though. yes, they did know diego was a communist and hired him anyway. what did they expect? lmao. diego said:

"Rather than mutilate the conception [of the mural], I shall prefer the physical destruction of the conception in its entirety, but preserving, at least, its integrity."

so they decided to destroy the mural before it was even finished and they never talked to each other again.

diego then repainted the mural at the palacio de bellas artes back in mexico, this time known as Man, Controller of the Universe. this new version included even more communist leaders and a depiction of john d. rockefeller jr. drinking at a nightclub, right underneath a depiction of syphilis bacteria. cue nelson haw-haw:

this was the version they used in the episode also, since the original was, well, never finished and also destroyed. only a black and white photograph of it exists, taken by diego before it was destroyed so he could remake it.

right so, homer!diego then pulls a Barthood and finishes the episode with a large mural summarizing the entire episode. he says some rick and morty thing i didnt get because i dont watch the show idk idc

the end

ALRIGHT NOW ITS TIME FOR THE STORY OF VINCENT VAN MOE

[shanksbaby]

Shunsui Kyoraku x reader - Never enough pt1

warning: just some angs + events concern pre-tbyw

i will write the part 2 soon dw!!

ever since you were young, you had a crush on Captain Kyoraku, you admired him from afar: he was the strongest among the captains (excluding old Yamamoto), but he was so kind and humble. In fact, it is because of him that you have chosen to become a shinigami by enrolling in the academy.

luck would have it that you were in the same regiment as your beloved Captain. You thought it was also a way to get closer to him, to admire him more closely. Then you collided with reality …

not only did he seem not to care too much about you (but after all, were you just a sub that you expected?) but you were constantly watching him filter through with other women. and in the meantime, your love for him grew. How ironic, right?

you had also tried to approach him sometimes but nothing, every time you made yourself red as a tomato and apologized as you left. You couldn't look him in the eye. And you hated yourself so much: did you want to get close to him and then you couldn't even say a word? you felt so pathetic.

but one day, you caught him making out with another woman, a subordinate of Captain Muruguma. at the sight of your captain giving someone else a passionate kiss, your chest started to ache, excruciating pain; as tears flowed from your eyes.

suddenly his gaze falls on you, a grainy look - because were you watching him make out or because were you crying? you did not know -.after seconds of tranche, you ran away, trying to get away as much as possible. How did you explain this to Captain Kyoraku now? He was easy-going sure but maybe he could get angry because you had peeked, not to mention that you cried like a baby.

the next day, with the few shreds of dignity you had left, you went to work anyway, aware of the fact that you would probably meet with your captain. And in fact…

" Captain! " you say surprise as soon as you meet his gaze and then make a half bow, keeping your head down as a sign of respect. "I'm sorry about what happened. please forgive me "suddenly these words came out of your mouth. you still remained with your head down for fear of meeting his gaze.

" Y\N- chan "he replies with a smile, and hearing your name on his lips sends you into fribillation "It's all good, don't worry".

his words relieved you slightly, knowing he wasn't angry comforted you and the fact that he didn't mention your tears meant he probably didn't notice, right? You raise your head and murmur a thank you. He just smiles at you and pulls the big hat over his head before turning around.

and that's where you notice the same girl from yesterday, she was waiting for him … So it wasn't just a flirt? And why do you keep getting this feeling of jealousy? What right do you have?

you stood for a few seconds watching them hold hands, she put her head on his body, then you turned around to continue doing your work. You had to search an area for very powerful Hollows.

needless to say you were distracted, you kept thinking about that woman and shunsui, them together, and here is that feeling appearing again. You were wondering while you were looking around what she had more than you: probably everything, she was beautiful, tall, she had a gorgeous smile and her manner seemed so kind and elegant ..

and just as you thought back to your flaws and that woman's strengths, a Hollow appears from behind, attacks you quickly and unfortunately manages to hit you. From the collision with him you are injured in a leg and an arm.

'shit' you think.both arms and legs hurt, and you can't move properly while the hollow seemed so fast, so try to get away and cast some spells, instead of using your sword. unfortunately you weren't an expert, so the damage the hollow took was minimal.

you thought you were going to die, when suddenly your beloved Captain Shunsui arrives on the scene: immediately killing the Hollow.

"Y \ N, are you okay?"he then asks you coming up against you, you are about to murmur something but the injuries suffered are excessive and then you faint in his arms.

[1-800-iluvhockey]

home - o.power

summary - the aftermath of boston through a series of voicemails, and the next steps for y/n and owen…… 

type - 4.5k fic, part two of watching him fade away 

warnings - nothing too bad; major feels, sappy voicemails, graduating college, and a little surprise at the end :) 

(also when we reference the boys, I mean the frosh & sophomores) 

voicemail #1 - the morning of the flight, after the fight

hey o, when you get this, you will probably be in the plane or already in florida. I just wanted to call to let you know that I’ll be here, when you want me. I love you more than words can say, and I know you are probably mad at me right now, but you know I did it with the best intentions. I want you to live your dreams without me holding you back, so I am letting you go. I hope you can make your way back to me someday, because I will be right where you left me, honey. I’m only me when I’m with you, but for now I’m just going to be me, and you are going to be you; mr owen nhl power! I am so damn proud of you and can’t wait to see your debut. you’ve got this. you have been doing this almost all of your life, don’t let the nerves get to you, and play your heart out. every day, every practice, and every game. I’ll be here, in aa, watching all of your games and cheering you on. remember that I’ll always have invisible string thing you to me, and I hope that one day you can tug on that invisible string so we can be together again. I love you to the moon and to saturn, my love. good luck with hockey and I’ll talk to you soon.. 

voicemail #2 - about two weeks after, the night of his first goal

hi n/n, when you get this message, I know that you will be asleep. we still share the conjoined calendar and I saw that you had a big mid term today, so knowing you, you spent the whole day in the library and then fell asleep as soon as you got back to the dorm. I— I scored my first goal tonight. I wish you were there to see it because it felt amazing, but not as amazing as I should be when I don’t have my favorite person in the stands. anyways, I know that in the future, everything will be different…… I plan on having a seat in the stands saved for you, and then maybe even a box for our children. children, that sounds so good, kids, having kids with you…… only if you want them of course. but you know how I’d love a little y/n or little owen running around to teach them how to skate, and be the kindest human like their mom. now the midnight mush brain is taking over, sorry. but I just wanted to call to say that I love you, and the future is bright, and will bring us together. I miss you deeply, and love you forever and a day, honey. 

voicemail #3 - y/n's birthday

owen douglas power, it’s my birthday and I know you can’t make it, but now we are both 20 and I feel like it was just yesterday when we met in Econ. I hope your game in, coincidentally, florida did good. I know you guys won 5-3, but in some cases I know to you that doesn’t mean a good game. when I was sitting on my dorm room floor, getting ready and fixing my necklace before the night out brought me flashbacks to your birthday when you gave that 22 pendant to me. I know that you think that I took it off after the frozen four, but I kept it on. I have this anxiety tic since you have been gone, I— I mess with the pendant and rub it at least 3 times to calm me down. It’s silly I know, but it helps. today was a really hard day to be happy, because you weren’t with me. I couldn’t laugh at your jokes, or have you smash me into the cake like last year…. but thank you for the flowers, they were gorgeous. I love you pow. 

voicemail #4 - the end of the season

hey love, it’s now officially the end of the season, and I cannot wait to fly to aa and see you. I have already talked with your parents, and after we help them move your stuff out of the house, we are stating at a lake house I rented for us this summer. don’t worry, your parents will stay for a week, then we will have a week or few to ourselves…… and then the boys and their girls are coming to stay for a few weeks… then I have at least one week with you left until I have to go, and you have to go to school. I cannot wait to see you and hug you so tight. I’ve missed out hugs and cuddles. I also can’t wait to kiss you, those sweet lips are calling my name, they probably taste like your strawberry chapstick. I’m so excited I can’t even think straight, I will see you soon, my love! 

——————————

that summer was pure bliss, every promise that was made over the voicemails and the night in boston was fulfilled. owen didn’t want to focus on hockey too much, but did tell her all the stories that she didn’t get to see in person, and about his new teammates. soaking up every hug, every kiss, every— every everything….. she truly didn’t want him to leave again. he was home, she was home. the first half of summer went too great, family and friends circulating in and out of the house, spending all day on the lake and then late night bonfires all night…. the last week n a half of summer before the pair had to part ways however, was like boston all over again…. 

“babe I told you for the hundredth time, I can’t go with you to buffalo right now!” 

“WHY you can just transfer and—“ 

“NO POW— I won’t do it. I love umich too much and I want to finish out my 4 years so I can graduate and start my career on the right track. I know that it’s not super far, but I hope that you can understand why I am so persistent on this..” 

“but babeeeee—-“ 

“NO buts! I respect your decision on your career, so please, please respect mine, owen.” 

“this— this is a main reason why I love you y/n….. you are so headstrong in your ways, and against my better judgment, I won’t bring it up again. I’ll support you and your career in every way possible. if this is the way to do it, I will do it.”

——————————

and he did. by staying in contact with her throughout her whole junior year while he was making his rookie debut in the NHL. it was hard at first, seeing that both of their schedules were so hectic, on top of the rumors flying about the two of them. many found it hard to believe that THE owen power was taken, and many cheating rumors circulated, but y/n never believed them. however, there was a rumor of luke and y/n being together after a game that really got owen riled up, and y/n of course assured him that nothing happened….. because nothing did. luke decided to keep an eye out for y/n since pow left, because he knew it was the right thing to do, and since he was his liney for a few months. luke knew how much the two of you meant to each other. 

y/n made every near by game that owen had with the sabres that year, and then would make some sabre home games depending on her schedule. good thing was during the playoffs, she got to make the majority of them because she got to take her finals a little earlier this year, meaning the year ended early for her. she was on track to graduate with high honors, which everyone was thrilled for. the reason behind her being able to take her finals earlier than most, besides the high honors that she will be able to graduate with, she is graduating a semester earlier……. and owen was THRILLED to have her in buf months earlier than he was planning on. but that means his plans for their future together were getting closer and closer. 

——————————

“are you— do you think this is the one?” owen asked his sister as adam put the ring holder on the table and opens it.

“this ring would mean everything to her em, she is going to love it.” adam says as he shines it in the light. owen is just admiring it, thinking of proposal plans… 

“okay, what’s the plan?” em tells her two brothers, as she closes the ring box and opens her laptop. 

“going to have to get the boys together again for this.” owen says with a little smirk on his face. he has had the idea for awhile, and hopes that the boys can pull it off. 

calling all the guys up, one by one…. they were all so happy and willing to help owen with the plan for proposing to y/n on graduation day. he knew that it would be cheesy, so he decided to do something even cheesier…… and convince the boys and coach to make a proposal video to play on the screen as owen took her in a “empty” yost stadium for a couple skate to celebrate graduating. he made the video by starting out with the boys talking about their relationship, then their families, and lastly it will be owen, on the screen saying how much he loves her and how they met etc……. while y/n is speechless…… he will get down on one skate next to her and propose, while the boys hold up a MARRY ME ? sign. it was perfect, and he was glad that all of the boys that can, can make it. the ones that can’t however are in the video, so it would still work out. 

——————————

the day came for y/n to graduate, and she had no clue about anything. no one was answering her calls or text messages. most of the nhl was on their christmas break, but there was some games going on. her family was there and owen’s was, but no owen or the boys that she can see from her seat. y/n felt too good for graduating early, and she got a new dress the weekend before for this with the help of owen’s sister, it was a simple white maxi dress with longer sleeves since aa in december isn’t the best for mini dresses, and against her better judgement, y/n bought the white one instead of her navy blue one that she loved so much. graduation took almost a hour and a half before she could walk the stage, and when she finally walked, she could hear the cheers of her family….. the almost two hours was worth the wait. sitting back down in her seat to watch the rest of graduation, she looked to find her family….. to see both families, and the boys!!! the boys showed up with signs and everything, she started to tear up. all of the old frosh and all of the sophomores could make it….. but not owen. her face dropped when she didn’t see him sitting next to kent. 

the boys watched as one of their best friends finally got to graduate and get her degree. all of the hours that she has sacrificed to not only her studying for her degree, but tutoring the boys has finally payed off. sure sadly some of the boys had to leave umich for the nhl so they didn’t get to see her as much, but that didn’t stop them from checking up on her and being close friends. they really hoped (and knew) that their y/n would say yes to marrying pow…. but a lot of them thought that owen not being in the view of sight for y/n’s graduation was almost too far. two of the boys closest to y/n offer the years have been kent & luke.. so when kent was the first that y/n spotted in the crowd after she walked the stage… he could see her face drop when she figured out that owen “wasn’t” there. he felt awful, and frantically texted owen about how he was making her feel. but owen had to stick to the plan. 

——————————

y/n ran into her parents arms after the commencement ceremony was over, tears in her eyes as she held up her degree. her parents hugged her extra tight, knowing that their only child was going to not only graduate university today…. but become a fiancée. after talking and crying with her parents, she thanked her family and then owen’s family before going over to talk with the boys. 

“BOYS— HOW ARE YOU HERE?” y/n yelled as she leaped into luke & briss’ arms… causing everyone to laugh. 

kent was walking behind them trying to hide pow as pow was crouching behind him. kent left straight after the ceremony to give pow a stern talking to, and a best friend pep talk before the plan was put into motion. he calmed owen’s nerves a little…. before he saw her (and was twice as nervous). 

y/n was hugging and talking with all the boys until she saw kent walking oddly towards the group, through the crowd. her eyes lit up when owen jumped up behind him with a bouquet of flowers, semi running in her direction.he was wearing her favorite navy suit, with a maize tie and a M pin on the suit jacket, with his signature flow / glasses combo…. he looked like the umich owen that she fell in love with. she looked to bords, who was standing behind her filming. she muttered a “that little shit” and looked at the camera, gave a thumbs up before owen caught up to her. he gave her a big hug (which turned into a kiss) and spun her around, as she laughed. 

“OWEN DOUGLAS POWER— DONT— don’t scare me like that again!!” she jokingly yelled at him as he put her down, causing everyone to laugh. 

“surprised?” he says as he smirks a little at luke, who gave a thumbs up behind y/n. 

“I’m so glad that you could make it pow.” she told him softly as she gave him another hug.

“okay babe, I got to take you away from our friends and family for a minute… is that okay?” he asked her as he reached his hand out so she could take it. 

“uhhh— okay owen what ever you say. BORDS! If I get kidnapped, please call erik to find me or 911.” she joked before turning around to look up at owen as he lead her to the first step of the plan. 

owen quickly turned around for a split second to smile at h to e group before giving them a “go go” movement so they could change into their old umich uniforms for the proposal. 

——————————

after a 5 ish minute walk to wherever pow was taking her, her eyes started to water when she saw the familiar building. 

yost ice arena.

it looked to same, it looked like home. she hasn’t been here in a few weeks, as the boys have had a few away games before the semester was over. but it wasn’t the same as it was….. every time she walked in, she remembered all the times with pow & the original sophomore boys…. that she got sad when they weren’t there skating or with her. it had been so long since she saw her boys in a uniform in so long. but she was glad that she was able to experience the time that she had with them. she was also glad that she could watch the current sophomores live their last full semester at umich... because she knew they were going to sign and move away in a few months. 

she didn’t question owen’s motives, she was just following him as he lead her through the semi dark arena, it looked so peaceful. she was at peace, finally being at home….. with her home. owen was home to her, he had taken her heart… and she has his. two hearts and one home is what luke would always say to her for reassurance. 

now the pair were almost down to the benches, and y/n could see a blue “power” jersey that was laid over the home bench. her eyes started to water again… that jersey brings back so many good memories. hopping over the bench, she could also see two pairs of skates, one says power, and the other one… that looked like hers had writing on it but she couldn’t read it because it was too dark in the arena still. 

“put it in babe, please? one last skate with me.” he said as he sat down on the bench and passed her the jersey. 

“of course, power.” she said, flashing back to the first date that she had with him…. which was taking her on a couple skate, in this very same arena. 

owen quickly put on his skates and helped her fix her skates like he always did, and she put the familiar jersey back on. after they were both ready, y/n took his hand as they skated on to the ice. the lights were slightly getting a little brighter so they could see the ice. they skated and talked and it was perfect. y/n & owen’s families were at the top of the stands, watching and getting pictures of this sweet moment. the boys were in their umich uniforms and were watching in the tunnel, getting some up close pictures. about 20 ish minutes of skating and goofing around, owen took her to center ice, and the lights turned into a spotlight on center ice. 

y/n confused on what was happening, frantically asked owen.

“owen? baby what is going on?” laughing nervously. 

“nothing to worry about honey, just look up at the screen! you’ll see.” owen said as he stood behind her, holding her waist, towering over her as she leaned into his hold (so she could see the jumbotron better) 

the video started to play, and the screen turned to almost a interview setting, with the famous blue and maize backdrop and podium as owen walked onto the frame. 

“hi y/n, if you are watching this, this means that you have finally graduated from michigan! first off, congrats babe, I’m so prone of how hard that you have worked. secondly, I love you so so much and I wanted to make this video to help explain my love for you. so uh— here ya go honey.. hope you enjoy it!” the owen on the screen says as y/n laughs a little. 

the screen then goes to a montage of owen goals over the course of the last year, and all of the cellys that he pointed to y/n in the crowd to. goal after goal, celly after celly, y/n started to realize how much that she loved him and how much she meant to him. the commentators would say like “power with another goal of the night! look at him go! and his girlfriend in the stands?! isn’t she the best supporter?” and stuff like that which made her tear up. 

but what started the tears is when the podium screen came back up, but it wasn’t owen on the screen but coach p,, one of her favorite people.

 someone off screen asked him

 “what do you think about owen and y/n’s relationship?” 

and coach replied with “I think that she is the best one for him, with her in the crowd, he plays on a even more exceptional level hat he normally does. many think that relationships are distractions, but this relationship is far from it. I wish them the best and I hope that he can keep his good luck charm with him in the crowd, for life.” and he smiles at the camera…. 

she is now almost crying as one by one her family answers many questions like that. then, owen’s family, who cracked her up as em & adam started bickering on camera. the boys did the same, one by one answering little things like that….. but the last question that was asked and answered was by the couple’s best friends…. kent & luke. 

the question that kent was asked was…… “do you think if they get married that you will be best man? or adam?” 

kent laughs and says “man, I love adam but I hope I am. owen is one of my best friends, and I love y/n like she is my sister. so I really hope they stay together and that op proposes.” 

luke waits for his question, looking down at the podium. 

“hughesy how do you feel? about the future of our highlighted hockey couple.” the question person asked. 

“I—“ he looks up and makes eye contact with the camera. 

“y/n was one of the first people that I met here, and I had a fast connection with her. I’m like her little brother and she is the older sister I never had. owen treats her like a queen and I respect all of the things that he has done for her. their future is so bright. I wish them all the best! but uh— when you watch this… can I be a bridesmaid?” he jokes at the end as he runs towards the camera, shutting it off. 

the screen turns back to owen standing at the podium, saying some last words. he is wearing the same outfit as now, which prompts her to believe that this last part was filmed today. the boys are now quietly skating into the ice, signs in hand behind the couple. their family’s are now closer to the ice taking pictures. one of the girls from the social media team have been filming the whole thing , and bother was their photographer of the proposal. 

“hi y/n/n, I hope you enjoyed the video that I put together. it took me a long time and a lot of prep, but I knew it would mean a lot to you.” owen on the screen says as owen starts to loosen his grasp on y/n’s waist so he can bend down on one knee to propose to her after the video is over. 

“before this video ends, I want to say that I love you so so much y/n l/n. you are my home, the one that supports me through thick and thin, the one that I want to spend the rest of my life with. you are the love of my life, and I cannot imagine spending another day without you by my side. I think about you and our future constantly and with every game until today I have thought of seeing your face as I said these 4 words that form one of the most life changing sentences I’ll ever say. so, y/n if you could please turn around.” owen on the screen finishes and the jumbotron plays the scene on center ice. 

y/n turns around and gasps at the sight. all of the boys, in their white umich uniforms that she knows and loves (the frozen four ones as that was the last time that they were all on the ice together). she can feel the tears falling down her face as she sees them pull out signs one by one spelling out 

Y / N,  M A R R Y  M E ? 💍

and she looks down to see owen on one knee with the ring of her dreams, his family heirloom ring from his grandma that she loved. she bent down and whispered a “yes owen, I so will.” which causes them to both stand up and put the ring on. 

“SHE SAID YES!” owen yells as the couple kisses and then gets bombarded by hugs from the boys. 

looking down at the ring after the boys gave her some space, she can finally see the words on the side of her skate, she smiles as she reads it

“mrs. power” 

she was home, and now home was him for forever. <3 

——————————

abbster's taglist: @owenpwr @studsccsnackavoybambi @jamiedryzdale @hockey-lover86 @hockeyboysarehot @hockey-lover-22 @pulpfixion @dylandukerr @oskarlidblom @owenpowersglasses @bellaguarneri @boeswhore @the-stars-shine-above-us @juliasahoshughes @pierrelucduboiis @dracoswhore007

[phoenixyfriend]

Rey Gives No F*cks About the Grandfather Paradox

Okay so since nobody’s suggested a fic under these terms, I ended up expanding on this post on discord and things snowballed. We kept to the basics of the entire plot revolving around Rey really hating her grandad and leveraging her blood relation to not be unalived about it.

With contributions by @atagotiak​, @dracothulhu​, @thepallaspalace​, and several others. The title comes from @gelpenss​.

The basic thing I absolutely need is this: Rey gets thrown back to the middle of the clone wars, and the subsequent plot leans in really heavily on her being, genetically-via-clone-dad, the daughter of the guy running the entire galaxy.

Nobody knows what to do with her.

The timing is mid-TCW for the past (because I want Ahsoka there) and vaguely between Episodes 8 and 9 because I... never watched E9 and don’t want to worry about the timeline. The only things that matter is that Luke is dead (he can die as he did in canon) and that Rey knows she’s Palp’s granddaughter (not the way she does in canon).

We'll say Luke found out from Anakin's panicked force-ghost and just went "well, fuck, okay, I should tell her this before she ends up in a situation like mine and finds out mid-battle or something."

Luke, prior to time-travel: Okay, so, now that I'm dead I know some things I didn't before. Like who your parents were. In the interest of full disclosure because I was in a very similar situation and I don't want you learning the way I did, I'm just going to come right out and say that your father was a clone was Sheev Palpatine. Rey: ... Luke: Are you okay? Rey: I don't know who that is.

(She grew up on Jakku, the history education was a little subpar.)

Setting The Scene

Imagine Rey showing up during or immediately before the clone wars. There’s this phenomenally powerful feral teenager from a desert backwater who tells you that if you ran a paternity test, it would probably pop up the Chancellor. She may or may not bring up cloning. She accuses said Chancellor of being a Sith Lord.

Your other phenomenally powerful feral teenager from a desert backwater, who may not be a teenager anymore but only barely, is very offended by this because Palpatine’s a Very Nice Old Grandfather Figure, but also he’s a little full of side-eye because if the blood test comes back as proof, then Palpatine had a kid and didn’t even know about them, or lied to Anakin, and that’s! Bad! Family’s important!!!

Palpatine hears about this daughter he apparently? Has? And is very confused because the timing doesn’t match up with ANYTHING he was doing, so the kid isn’t natural, and he says as much. (There is an explanation! It’s not a correct explanation, but he does come up with one.)

Finn and Poe and BB-8 all get dragged along because why not have the gang there? Nobody that’s already born, because [handwave] conservation of souls or something, IDK, point is the only person dragged along that’s even remotely close to already existing is Luke’s Force Ghost, who mostly hangs around begging Rey to be less impulsive. Finn is good because he is a nice polite boy, but for actual useful information they need Poe. The unfortunate situation is that the three do not land together. They land at the same time, in completely different corners of the galaxy. This means that nobody is there to curb Rey being her most impulsive self.

Time travel Rey knows two things. Luke’s dad ends up evil. Palpatine has always been evil.

She can solve one of these problems by killing the other, yes?

Rey: Ready to Rumble

See, the initial idea was this: Rey tried to break into the senate to kill Palpatine, got arrested, and then used the "he's biologically my father" card to get out of jail free. (Force Ghost Luke follows her like “please take five seconds to think this through.”)

But.

But.

It would be very, very, very funny if The Force just dumps her in a flash of light in the senate building and she just attacks Gramps on sight. Just a shouted "YOU!" and no-hesitation attempted murder.

Palpatine has no idea what's going on.

Rey took maybe two seconds to get identity confirmation and then started swinging.

[Image Description: An individual in a green metal helmet with an eye slit, holding a pistol. In the upper left, upper right, and lower middle are the phrases “I do not know who I am...” “I don’t know why I’m here” and “All I know is that I must kill.” End description.]

Of course, she gets arrested. There are Master Jedi in the Senate. There are Clone Troopers. Palpatine isn’t the weak old man he pretends to be. Of course she’s stopped.

But she isn’t executed in time for Palpatine to stop her from ruining his entire reputation.

Immediately after Rey fails to kill her Shitty Granddad, Luke's ghost shows up and begs her to not talk about the Sith thing because it will completely undermine everything she's trying to do. Pass off the attempted murder as something else!

Rey, panicking: "that fucker left me on a desert planet for 10 years!" "You owe me 19 years of child support you son of a Hutt!"

The Jedi have to do the investigation, because the girl showed up with a laser sword, and the conversation is, uh... interesting. (“Where did you get that lightsaber?” “I got it from a mysterious old pirate lady I never met before. I don't know, I was being shown around by a smuggler and a Wookie.”)

Interviewer: Why did you try to assassinate the Chancellor? Luke: Say it wasn't assassination. Rey: It wasn't assassination. Int: You weren't trying to kill him? Luke: Assassination has to be politically motivated. Rey: This was, um... not political. Assassination is political, right? Int: You mean this was personally motivated? Rey: Yes. Int: I see. What personal motivation? Luke: Jakku! Rey: He's my grandfather. Int: ... Rey: Possibly father. Nobody was very clear on that. Int: ... Luke: Tell them to run a paternity test. Rey: Oh hey, a blood test would tell us which, right? Int: ............ Rey: I spent ten years as an orphaned scrapdealer on Jakku. He's my father. I'm kind of a little angry. Int: ........... Luke: Good job, kid. You bought yourself some time. Int: I'm going to get a medic to see about that parternity test.

Obviously, it comes back positive. Congratulations, Sheev, you’re the father.

Rey comes with a ready-made built-in excuse for hating Palpatine that nobody can question or fault her for!

Rey, pouring Truth into the Force: I didn't even know I was related to the Chancellor until a few months ago, but it's his fault I grew up the way I did, and he should take some responsibility!

The entire thing is mostly kept hush hush but someone leaks it to the press and Palpatine's ratings tank.

"Chancellor, I think we'll need to waive family visitation until she wants you a little less dead." "I would like to find out why she wants me dead, and indeed, where she came from." "...sir, for your own safety--"

Who would win? A master plan years in the making spanning decades of manipulating and work? or One (1) paternity test

"Okay, so, Rey Palpat--" "Ew, no, I don't want his name." "You--okay. Sure, we can understand that. Is there a name you would prefer to put on the paperwork?" Rey, who would have gone by Skywalker in honor of Luke but can't do that when Anakin is right there and all: "Can I think about it?"

Rey: I don't know what I want my last name to be but I know I don't want his, and most of the people I’d want a name from have famous families like you... Luke's ghost, pointing out the Literal Nobody that she cares about a lot: How about Solo? Rey: ...Solo, then.

(A few months later she runs into Poe again and he offers for Finn and Rey to both take his name because honestly they need SOMETHING but at that point she’s already decided on Smuggler Dad.)

Backtrack a bit. We’ve got a bigger cast.

They all arrive separately. Poe, for one, does better than Rey, who is aiming for a murder, but not quite as well as Finn, who is currently being adopted and hidden like a secret cat by a bunch of Alpha Clones on Kamino. He vibes with the names-or-numbers thing. He doesn’t necessarily tell them where and when he’s from, but he’s very sweet and a great liar and they adopt him wholesale anyway.

The Finn situation is just... "Buir Ti, we need you to hide this man, we've decided he's our little brother but if Nala Se finds out she'll make him leave."

Of course, this leads into Shaak Ti teaching Finn how to Jedi.

Maybe consider Finn needing to almost be tricked into learning Jedi things because he willfully forgets it could apply to him. Finn does not like to think of himself as special, which is super valid, but frustrating for Shaak Ti when it comes to, you know, getting him to acquire knowledge. Finn's training at some point is "here, levitate objects with the Force to entertain the tubies." It’s a lot easier to convince him to practice when it involves the babies.

(Everyone on Kamino looked at Finn and went “oh I love him I’m keeping him and teaching him things.”)

(He’s just very lovable.)

Poe, meanwhile, buys the trust of Anakin Skywalker via R2D2 declaring BB-8 the absolute most baby of droids. R2D2 met BB-8 three hours ago but.

"Hey Obi-Wan this is Poe I met him like five days ago but R2D2 says he checks out because his droid is a baby." "That's nice, Anakin, did you know the Chancellor has a daughter who tried to assassinate him in broad daylight yesterday? Because guess who had to stop the Chancellor from getting assassinated by his daughter in broad daylight yesterday."

A summary so far:

Finn, on Kamino: Hey, um, I don't know where this is, but it's not where I was a few minutes ago. Do you think you could get me a comm? What's your name? Poe, on [dice roll] Denon: Oh, hey, you're General Skywalker? Nice to meet you, I'm so sorry about my droid, she's a little excitable and thought your R2 unit looked like a friend of hers-- Rey, on Coruscant: DIE, GRANDFATHER

Finn: [Peacefully vibing on Kamino, unaware of the chaos and bonding with the clones] Poe: [Trying to explain how he knows someone who tried to kill the chancellor and defend Rey] Rey: [Arrested for trying to kill the chancellor]

Just... just...

Anakin: Some guy ended up lost on base yesterday with his droid, how’s your day going? Obi-Wan: I had to stop someone who claims to be the chancellors daughter from murdering the chancellor after she seemingly blinked into existence in the Senate building. Poe: 😐

(Poe: Oh, so that's where Chaos^2 went.)

Poe: In her defense, she is his... well we don't know if she's his daughter or granddaughter, but she's definitely related to him, and she definitely grew up in a shitty situation that was his fault, so...

(Poe is trying very hard to explain this and not get arrested on the military base.)

As you’ve probably guessed, what's especially funny about all of this for me is the fact that Palpatine is fully aware that this girl shouldn't exist, but can't find a single piece of evidence about where she came from. He didn't start any experiments that could result in a female child, and he didn't have sex in that period of time, so where the hell--

Rey spends so much time in jail... BUT they do eventually assign her a Jedi Master. Possibly before she actually proves her evil grandfather is in fact evil. Most votes went to either Plo Koon or Obi-Wan. Plo, because he’s dad-shaped, and Obi...

"Obi-Wan, you already raised one feral desert child with implausible amounts of power, you handle this." Rey in return is very "Sweet, you vaguely remind me of Master Luke," and nobody knows who the hell she's talking about. Obi-Wan is NOT on board with this plan, she'd really be better off with Plo or like........ Mace.

Reunion Tour

What I need out of this is the eventual Finn and Rey reunion scene that is just excited screaming while someone in the background explains to Shaak Ti that yes this is apparently Palpatine's terrifyingly force-sensitive daughter who hates him.

(Finn senses Rey’s approach and just. Gathers the everyone to wait. He’s just :D REY MY FRIEND REY GUYS MY FRIEND REY IS COMING.)

Anakin shows up with Poe--just a guy who signed on to the military, no big deal--and then Poe and Rey are EXCITED and everyone's just like "Cool, how do you know this literal terrorist child?" And Poe has to scramble and "Uhhhhhhhhhhhh she saved my droid from a scrapheap once and BB-8 is basically my child so I owe her one."

Rey knows that Anakin ends up evil so she’s maybe not actively hostile but definitely very “I’m watching you.” That said, she vibes with him on a lot of things that he maybe doesn’t actively notice.

Rey picks up a snake, snaps off the head for venom avoidance, and starts biting off chunks. Obi-Wan's reaction: [undisguised horror] Anakin and Ahsoka: Ooh, where'd you find that? (Obi-Wan: And now I’m up to three feral children.)

What Does Palpatine Even Do?

OBVIOUSLY at a certain point, Palpatine is just phoning up every ally he has to figure out who broke protocol to synthesize a daughter for him.

So of course, Palpatine blame Plagueis.

She'd have been born five or so years before Naboo, just a few years younger than Anakin. It's such an EASY theory to build a conspiracy around. It is ENTIRELY WRONG, but it’s plausible! And anyone who might have been involved to say otherwise is probably dead!

A random bio-kid shows up you can’t possibly have contributed genes to? Maybe it’s the evil bio spark that did it.

Palpatine tries to placate her with the ‘my genes were stolen for an experiment and I didn’t know’ thing. It doesn’t work because her actual main complaint is he’s evil in her future but he tries.

It'd be a struggle to even get access to her, because of the aforementioned “maybe don’t try to talk to the daughter(?) that hates you” thing, but you know who Palpatine does have access to? The Chosen One.

Rey kind of decides on her favorites early on (she gravitates to Dad Energy and Sad Old Men so Plo and Obi-Wan are on her list, and that means decent time around Anakin and Ahsoka). It's really easy to talk Anakin into helping to some degree because "he'd like to connect to a daughter he never knew" and "a child of her power on a planet like that, you'd know her struggle, my dear boy" and so on. Anakin tries to connect! He tries to play up Sheev’s kind political work and how it can’t have really been his fault! It doesn’t work. Rey does not believe a word of it. Mostly she doesn’t even seem to hear him.

Rey's just like "...oh right, you're the melted mask that Kylo Ren was always ranting about," which means absolutely NOTHING to Anakin, but he mentions it to Palps, who loses his goddamn mind trying to figure out what she's talking about, because it also means absolutely nothing to him.

Here’s the thing: Rey’s already decided that Obi-Wan is cool, because Luke said so, and Plo Koon is dad-shaped, and she also gravitates towards earnest kindness in general, like she made friends with Finn real quick, so Ahsoka? Already getting along great.

She doesn’t dislike Anakin, really, he isn’t evil yet, he’s just... meh. She’s a little suspicious and she likes him less than the others but... Anakin.

Rey, to Anakin: You are my least favorite. Anakin, to Palpatine: YOUR DAUGHTER HATES ME???

And he goes from “she’s a lil standoffish” to “she doesn’t like me” to “she hates me” as is normal for Anakin.

It’s just an escalation of this one time Palpatine wants Anakin to not have rifts and trust issues with a person, at least not until later, because he needs information.

Meanwhile, that very moment, Rey is just like "huh, nobody here is listening to me about how make a sixth-hand carburetor work, where's Luke's dad?"

Anakin is venting to Palpatine about how hard it is to talk to Rey, and she's over in the Temple just like "Hey, that guy was useful last time, I should ask him," but also she only ever thinks of him as Luke's Dad.

(At one point, Obi-Wan is having a bit of a break down, and then Anakin starts having a breakdown about that, meanwhile the clones are (badly) trying to hide Finn behind their backs, Rey is watching Ahsoka practice and being like "I want two lightsabers," and Poe is trying to keep R2 from stealing BB-8 and Force Ghost Luke is just face palming in the background.)

(Rey deserved a saber staff, maybe one that can detach and turn into a jar’kai set. Possibly a pike. Mostly I just wish she got more chances to whack things with a big stick.)

[littlemissnoname13]

Hello can I request where draco in fourth year having a crush on a hufflepuff reader but acts as arsehole cuz he doesn’t know how to show affection , leading it to her avoiding him which makes him depressed about what did he do wrong ?

Hi love. Thanks for the request.💕

I love writing Draco x hufflepuff!reader stories! I am a sucker for a slytherin x hufflepuff pairing.

I added a few extra details here and here. Hope you like it. X

Hopeful (Draco Malfoy x Hufflepuff!Reader)

Word count: 2100 sorry got a bit carried away. 😅

Warnings: None. Soft!Draco being an absolute blubbering idiot.

Draco’s thoughts are written in green

Spring had arrived. 

It could be felt in the cool and gentle zephyr that made the shiny new leaves on top of the once barren and dead trees rustle. 

Daisies were in full bloom and the wind had managed to carry some of the petals away—making them fall to the ground, acting like a harbinger of the fast approaching summer. 

Draco couldn’t be bothered if it was spring, or autumn or winter. 

In that particular moment, all he wanted to do was get away from the Slytherin common room and Pansy Parkinson. 

He had taken her to the Yule ball and things had sort of fizzled out afterwards. He couldn’t get himself to see her as anything other than a friend. 

Having ran all the way to a far and secluded area of the Hogwarts grounds, Draco leaned against a tree trunk and panted heavily in an attempt to catch his breath. 

“Are you—are you alright?” 

Your voice startled him and he quickly stood up straight to look around. 

You were sitting criss-crossed on the grass with your transfigurations textbook opened on your lap. Your shirt sleeves were rolled up and your yellow and black tie hugged very loosely around your neck. 

“Fine.” He muttered as he slowly sat down noticing a single daisy tucked behind your ears. 

After sitting there in complete silence for the next few minutes, he finally spoke up. 

“What are you even doing here anyway?” 

“Just wanted some peace and quiet to be honest.” You said, shrugging your shoulders. “It’s a beautiful day.” 

Draco just hummed in response and kept staring at the daisy in your hair that swayed lightly with the breeze. 

“What?” You asked when you noticed. 

“You have—you have a twig stuck in your hair.” 

“A daisy.” You corrected him as you closed your book and moved a bit closer to where he was sitting. “It’s a daisy.” 

“Yeah I know that. I’m not stupid.” He said quickly. “But why?” 

"Well, Daisies are essentially two flowers blended together in complete harmony." You said pulling the daisy out of your free falling hair before putting your hand forward to hand it to him. 

“And?” Draco reluctantly took the flower from you and blinked his eyes in confusion. 

“They are said to resemble innocence—true love even.”  You explained getting comfortable next to him.

“You believe in all that?” Draco scoffed, twirling the flower between his index finger and thumb. He couldn’t tell if the floral fragrance was coming from you or the air but it made him slightly queasy nonetheless. 

“Merlin. No.” You scrunched up your nose. “It just gives me hope I guess.” 

Draco gave you another hum in response. For someone who came up with snarky and sometimes witty comments on the spot, he found himself weirdly tongue tied. 

“I know you were hiding from Pansy by the way.” You remarked, making a small smile pull at his lips. 

“How come?”

“What do you mean how come?” You rolled your eyes. “Everyone can see that she is obsessed with you for some reason that I personally can't seem to comprehend.” 

~~~~~

The next day during potions class, Draco slowly opened his book and started to absently doodle on it with his quill while Snape talked about the upcoming potions essay that had to be done in pairs. 

Draco knew he should be paying attention but he just couldn’t get the interaction between you two out of his head. 

And just when he took a deep breath and decided to focus, a familiar scent started to fill his lungs up. 

Fruity, almost spicy notes of strawberry and pink grapefruit mixed with gardenias, vanilla and musk. It felt like someone had tossed a huge bouquet into the room. 

He knew it was you without even bothering to look up from my book. 

"Ah, Miss y/l/n. Late again." Snape muttered. “Five points from Hufflepuff house.” 

You quietly sat down next to your friend with your head hung low and Draco fought an unexplainable urge to give you a hug. 

"The essay must be done in pairs.." Snape said.

Great. 

"Ronald Weasley and Gregory Goyle." 

This is exactly what I needed right now. Thanks Snape. 

"Blaise Zabini and Hannah Abott." 

The last thing I need is someone weighing my essay down. 

"Draco Malfoy and y/n y/l/n." 

What? 

You turned back to look at Draco and gave him  an apologetic smile and he didn't understand why you kept smiling at him. It's not like the both of you had suddenly formed an unlikely bond with each other. 

Draco scowled at you in return and quickly raised his hand. "May I work on my essay alone?" 

"No. You may not Mr. Malfoy."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You and Draco had been studying in the library for almost an hour. Because you were quietly sitting next to him, his elbows and knees slightly brushed yours every few seconds and as much as he hated to admit it, He secretly enjoyed it. 

Contrary to yesterday, Draco was trying very hard to make a conversation with you. You seemed somewhat offended that he had asked Snape to work on the essay alone. 

“I am happy to do most of the writing if you can look up all the ingredients.” You offered.

You don’t have to do all of that yourself. I am happy to help with the writing too. Is what he should have said. 

“Fine whatever.” He said instead as he reached for a copy of One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi. 

That night, Draco stayed up tossing and turning in his bed before giving up on getting any sleep for the night. 

He lethargically walked towards his dresser and put his hands in his blazer pocket pulling out the now dried and pressed daisy from the other day. 

Taking a deep breath, he put the flower in between the pages of his copy of One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi. 

You were drawing him in, undoing him, unraveling him even. 

He knew that. 

But did you?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Draco! Open up." 

His head jolted towards the door and He quickly walked over to open it. 

You stood on the other end with books tucked in your arms, wearing your denim shorts and a plain white tank top—looking like summer personified. 

The more time he spent with you, the more he started to notice your quirks. Like that the way your skin glowed as the days got warmer. 

Compliment her. Do it. It’s not Difficult. 

“Did you do something different to your hair?” 

“Uh—no why are you asking.” 

“It just looks a bit strange.” He commented wanting to slap himself. 

"Okay, well are you going to let me in?" You questioned, wondering why he was blocking the way and asking you about your hair. 

Why did you have to wear that God damned tank top-

"Sorry?" You asked stepping inside making his cheeks burn when he realized he wasn’t meaning to say that out loud. 

"Just shut up and get back to working in the essay or whatever it is that you were doing." Draco grumbled feeling embarrassed as he grabbed some fresh parchment. 

Okay. Focus. The Strengthening solution requires...

You stretched a little and pushed your hair away from your face. 

several days to mature...

"Staring is rude Draco." You suddenly interrupted his thoughts as you set your eyes on his—peering right into his soul.

Draco felt like he was giving you some sort of power over him and the possibility of you using that power and leaving him heartbroken made him feel so very vulnerable.

He couldn't take the vulnerability a second longer.

 "I don't think we should study together anymore." He blurted quickly standing up. “It's for the best.”

"Huh?" You stood up contorting your face in total confusion—wondering just what you had done to piss him off. "What's wrong Draco? Did I do something wrong?" 

"Leave. Now." He muttered with his teeth clenched. 

Please don’t go.

"Just go—leave please."

You couldn’t help but feel a sharp sting burning your insides as you gathered all the books that were on the floor and ran made your way towards hufflepuff dormitories with tears threatening to flood your eyes. 

As soon as you ran off, he punched his wall and muttered out the plethora of angry curses when the impact bruised his knuckles.

~~~~~~~~~~~

During the following week, Draco failed to show up to any of your shared classes after you had refused to talk to him after what happened. 

Even if you did manage to see him walking down the halls or walking with Crabbe and Goyle, you noticed that he looked like he hadn’t eaten or slept in days. 

On a Tuesday, Draco looked at the Hufflepuff table during breakfast and when you caught his eye, all you did was look away. 

Everyone at school had their opinions about him—most of them weren’t good opinions. 

But when you were with him under that tree, he seemed different. His smirk was more playful than condescending. It managed to charm you in a way. 

You took a final bite of your toast and gathered all your books, walking to your Potions class. 

His seat still remained empty and you shook your head, trying to snap away from the thoughts of him as you flipped open your book. 

Only it wasn’t your book. 

You didn’t remember writing on the margins and making annotations on your book. 

Running your fingertips along the pages, you flipped to the very first page of the book. 

D. Malfoy was written in ridiculously neat handwriting and you shook your head when you realized that you had grabbed his book with you that day by mistake. 

And just when you were about to put his book away, something fell from in between the pages and fell onto your desk. 

It was the daisy you had woven into your hair the other day. Even in its dried state, the petals remained intact like her had done something to keep them that way.

When class was finally over, you made a quick beeline towards the slytherin dungeons, bumping into people along the way. 

~~~~~~~~~

“Some hufflepuff girl is standing outside the dungeons asking to see you.” Theo shrugged when he saw Draco at the common room sofa. “Says it's urgent.” 

He felt terrified yet so elated as he quickly stood up and made his way outside. 

“Here’s your book.” You said taking a step towards him. “You never told me what’s wrong by the way.” 

“Thank you.” Draco quickly took his book from you and stared at the ground. 

“Why did you stop talking to me y/n?”

“You told me to go away—If I remember correctly.” You said shaking your head at him. “Tell me Draco, what’s wrong?”

“Everything.” He said quietly, meeting your gaze. 

"What do you mean?" 

"You make me feel all weak.....and smiley...and I hate it." He looked at you with agitation.

"Weak?" You ran your  fingers through your hair in confusion. 

"And your ridiculous white tank top." Draco half yelled. 

"What's wrong with my top?" You asked, raising your voice slightly as if you had had enough of this. 

"Nothing is wrong except for the fact that you look stunning in it.” He blurted involuntarily. "It is absolutely distracting when one is trying to study!." 

He watched you open your mouth in shock and close it. Before he could spend another minute trying to solve the riddle that was your expression, you grabbed him by his tie and placed your lips on his. 

His brows furrowed as he kissed you back tenderly. Tasting the sweetness of your lips—pouring out every bit of suppressed passion and adoration he felt for you with his lips.

There was something so strange and euphoric about finally kissing someone he had been longing to kiss for so long. 

Something so magical about holding the person that fits perfectly into his arms. 

Freaking Finally. 

He was slightly disappointed when you slowly backed away, but the glow on your skin and the glossy ness in your eyes made him smile. 

"I guess I'll leave before I realize the consequences of what I have just done." You said softly as you held his face and placed a small peck on his lips.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next day, you found a tiny box and an envelope on your desk when you woke up. Your roommate let you know that Draco Malfoy had stopped by late last night when you were asleep and half begged and half threatened her to leave the box on your desk. 

You slowly opened the box and found a bedazzled and whimsical looking daisy necklace, encrusted with gems.  

A Daisy for my daisy. 

You give me hope.

- D.M

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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Fell free to send me reuests. My other stories can be found here.

Join my taglist here.

- violet-Anne

[yellowocaballero]

Obi-Wan’s a teen dad and Anakin DESPERATELY wants to do crime

A week after Obi-Wan formally took Anakin as his padawan, he left his quarters.

It hadn’t been Obi-Wan’s intention to spend a week lying in bed - or, at times, lying on the living room floor. Or staring blankly at the stove, or holding a toothbrush as he forgot what he was supposed to do with it. It had been his intention to handle the new...arrangements. Put on a brave face. Take care of business. There was so much to do, and Obi-Wan really did want to do it. But he stood in front of the stove staring at its knobs instead, lost.

Anakin had been a good sport about it, at least. He figured out alarmingly quickly how to work the stove and fry up the sliced fruit in their cupboards. Anakin didn’t understand that you didn’t fry fruit, but Obi-Wan ate it with little complaint. He put food in front of Obi-Wan, and Obi-Wan ate it. When Anakin asked him, somewhat fearfully, how to use the shower, Obi-Wan showed him and then took one himself. After the third day he left the living quarters semi-frequently, which would have been worrying if Obi-Wan cared.

Obi-Wan’s depressed, grieving, and has an inferiority complex the size of an Alderaanian mountain. Anakin doesn’t know what’s happening, but he does know that the power grid failure was not his fault. Can Obi-Wan ever be a true Jedi and a competent master? Or is his backstory, as told by the Jedi Apprentice novels, too fucking weird?

Rest under the cut.

A week after Obi-Wan formally took Anakin as his padawan, he left his quarters. 

It hadn’t been Obi-Wan’s intention to spend a week lying in bed - or, at times, lying on the living room floor. Or staring blankly at the stove, or holding a toothbrush as he forgot what he was supposed to do with it. It had been his intention to handle the new...arrangements. Put on a brave face. Take care of business. There was so much to do, and Obi-Wan really did want to do it. But he stood in front of the stove staring at its knobs instead, lost. 

Anakin had been a good sport about it, at least. He figured out alarmingly quickly how to work the stove and fry up the sliced fruit in their cupboards. Anakin didn’t understand that you didn’t fry fruit, but Obi-Wan ate it with little complaint. He put food in front of Obi-Wan, and Obi-Wan ate it. When Anakin asked him, somewhat fearfully, how to use the shower, Obi-Wan showed him and then took one himself. After the third day he left the living quarters semi-frequently, which would have been worrying if Obi-Wan cared. 

On day six, Obi-Wan worked up the energy to turn on his datapad, and was promptly bombarded with messages. They scrolled down the screen, a new one popping up every second. 

A lot of them were from his automated specialized education classes. Obi-Wan had finished the required padawan courses when he was sixteen, breezing through each course at his own pace virtually during downtime in transit and on missions. He had signed up for some Knight-level specialized education courses afterwards, loading as many on his plate as he could and managing special permission to complete them all virtually too. Apparently, he had a great deal of assignments due. 

Many messages from the Temple administration. Notification for mandatory forms to complete for requisitions, medical care...reports on the Naboo mission...a mountain of forms to complete for the promotion...a mountain of forms for the new padawan...a mountain of forms for processing Qui-gon’s death. 

Messages from his friends. How are you doing, Obi-Wan? Are you okay, Obi-Wan? Can we come over and talk, Obi-Wan? Obi-Wan, you stupid bastard, how dare you fight a Sith without me? 

Disturbingly, even the master of mission assignments had messaged him. Xe wanted to know if Obi-Wan was going to file for extended reprieve from missions to train his underage padawan in the Temple, or if he wanted to continue taking missions. Decide quickly, Knight Kenobi. Xe are willing to grant three years of light to no missions to help ‘facilitate Padawan Skywalker’s integration into the Jedi’.

The thought made Obi-Wan dizzy. No missions for years? He and Qui-Gon had barely gone weeks without a mission. But Obi-Wan had been thirteen, and Qui-Gon had a particular talent of taking an assignment to mediate standard legislative disputes and turn it into a three month embroilment in an endangered animal trafficking scheme. Staying stuck in the Temple for that amount of time made his skin crawl. Staying at home in the Temple so Anakin could integrate into the Jedi, become the Jedi he dreamed of...

Obi-Wan turned off the pad and tossed it across the room, letting it land on Qui-gon’s private meditation mat. Somehow, he couldn’t really bring himself to care. 

Five hours later, Obi-Wan dragged himself out of Qui-gon’s room to find Anakin lying on the floor with what looked like an entire droid disassembled over the carpet. He was kicking his feet in the air, lying on his stomach, stripping some frayed wire. 

Obi-Wan stared at him blankly, forms dancing behind his eyes. Anakin needed clothing. They had already processed him through his vaccinations - thank hell - and prescribed him some antibiotics for his multitude of intestinal parasites, but there was no way he was taking the pills. He needed to teach him how to braid the padawan braid. He needed to get them some food for the cabinets. He needed to…

“Are you hungry?” Obi-Wan rasped. His hair felt disgusting.

Anakin’s head snapped up, eyes widening. He scrambled off the rug, brushing a suspicious amount of dirt off his knees. “Yeah! I’ll make us that green thing!”

He shouldn’t let the nine year old work the stove. But Obi-Wan let him anyway, as he managed to somehow dump water in the kettle and place it on the stove, standing beside Anakin and waiting for it to whistle. 

I must be doing very well, Obi-Wan thought hysterically, as he stared at the old-fashioned durasteel kettle that Qui-gon had favored. He was releasing his emotions into the Force with perfection. He wasn’t feeling anything at all. He wasn’t thinking about Qui-gon. He wasn’t thinking about anything at all. His mind was clear and empty, and he was perfectly at peace. 

Obi-Wan tried to pour his tea, but he just couldn’t move. He stood and stared at the kettle for so long that Anakin eventually walked in and, straining on his tiptoes, sloshed the steaming water into the plastic white cup. 

***

On day seven, Obi-Wan managed to wrangle both himself and Anakin into some semblance of hygiene and clean clothes. Anakin needed a lot of help, which clearly embarrassed him, but Obi-Wan was too dead inside to be frustrated about it. 

He ended up tying his obi for him, as Anakin wriggled and tried to turn around to see it on the back. He’d have to show him how to do it himself later, but that was for later. 

“Why do I have to wear this?” Anakin whined. “It’s so heavy.”

“I’ll see if I can requisition you an outfit with less layers,” Obi-Wan said. A lighter outfit wouldn’t cut it, as Anakin had ramped up the temperature controls in their quarters a week ago and the rooms haven’t dipped below boiling ever since. “Hold still. Hold - hold still, please.”

“What does requisition mean?”

Anakin held still eventually. He managed to untie the obi in the first ten minutes, but Obi-Wan really couldn’t bring himself to care too much. Then they had to worry about brushing their teeth, and Obi-Wan had to teach him how to do that, and why was this so hard, why was everything so hard -

But when Obi-Wan eventually got them both out the door, he found no relief.The Temple felt different. Obi-Wan didn’t know how; just that it did. It was identical in every worldly way, yet mismatched in the Force. As if it was a different Temple, a pale echo from another dimension, that was the home of a different Obi-Wan. Or maybe Obi-Wan was different: maybe his Force signature was so warped and polluted that he tainted everywhere he went. 

They were all parts of the great whole of the Force. The Force was composed of every Jedi, every sentient being and eddy of wind. There were tens of thousands of Jedi in this Temple - how could the death of one man change it so thoroughly? Or had it just changed Obi-Wan?

Somewhat suspiciously, Anakin seemed to know the way out of the dormitories and into the main thoroughfare of the building. Obi-Wan kept a death grip on his little hand the entire time, slowing his steps so Anakin could keep up without having to jog. It didn’t stop him from trying to run forward every few steps, only for Obi-Wan to gently tug him back. 

“You weren’t supposed to run around the Temple by yourself,” Obi-Wan said flatly. Anakin grinned sheepishly, in what Obi-Wan was already beginning to recognize as his ‘Busted!’ face. 

“Why not?”

“You could have gotten lost.”

“I did get lost,” Anakin said proudly. “But then I found a secret service tunnel for the droids and I crawled through it and I found a server room and -” He stopped abruptly. “But that was way after the power outage yesterday. That I had nothing to do with.”

Obi-Wan...should probably care about this. 

He didn’t. He was too busy releasing his emotions into the Force, and returning his dark thoughts to the Force, and maintaining complete control over his body and spirit. There was no room in that for caring about Anakin, maybe, destroying the Temple.

Wasn’t he a teacher? Shouldn’t he be teaching?

“First rule of being a Jedi,” Obi-Wan said, exhausted, “learn to lie.”

There. That was a lesson. Qui-gon had said the same thing to him when he was fourteen. Obi-Wan was doing great at this. Anakin beamed and made a weird motion with his hand, clenching it into a fist and sticking his thumb out. Obi-Wan stared blankly at him until he put his hand down. 

Maybe it was because Obi-Wan was releasing all of his feelings and thoughts into the Force so well, but he couldn’t help but feel a constant prickling at the back of his neck. It felt like everybody was looking at them. A group of gossiping knights downright stopped talking when they saw Obi-Wan and Anakin approaching, and they broke out into whispers when they left. Padawans and initiates openly stared. Masters were too polite to stare, but their interest clearly peaked in the Force. 

By the time they got to the quartermaster’s and slid in line, Anakin was practically hiding behind Obi-Wan. Anakin had likely gone his entire life without anybody noticing him, blending into the background. Obi-Wan had learned almost a decade ago that it was a useful survival tactic for slaves. Although how he had ever done it, Obi-Wan would never know. The boy was a sun in the Force. Blinding and burnt, as broiling as the temperature he kept their quarters at. 

“Oh my. Padawan Kenobi, is that you?” Meela, the Quartermaster’s knight assistant, stopped and stared at both of them. She was carrying a large box of fabrics, and all of the other Jedi waiting in line stopped talking to crane their heads and stare too. “Oh! It’s knight now, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan said, before coughing. He hadn’t realized his voice was so hoarse - he hadn’t spoken to anybody but a nine year old in a week. “It is a pleasure to see you again, Meela.”

“Of course,” Meela said quickly. She was looking openly at Anakin, who was pointedly looking at Obi-Wan’s belt. “And you must be Anakin Skywalker! I had no idea you were so young. Is he even old enough to be a padawan, Knight Kenobi?”

“We determined that the creche wasn’t the best place for him.” Obi-Wan quickly grabbed his datapad, brought up the catalogue of items to requisition, and shoved it Anakin. “Pick out what we’re going to get. I’m certain you must be very busy, Knight Meela, so -”

“My, Padawan Kenobi?”

Obi-Wan refrained from gritting his teeth, before rotating on his heel. He stuck his hands in his sleeves, bowing to the aged Togrutan Jedi behind him. “It is a pleasure to see you again, Master Hashi.”

“My condolences for your master’s death,” Master Hashi said sympathetically. His watery old blue eyes were large and perfectly pitying. “It must be so difficult for you. And taking on a padawan so soon after your knighthood, as well.”

“He’s with the Force now,” Obi-Wan said. Smiling. He was smiling. Turn it down. Just a gentle smile. Remember Rishi. “But I appreciate your condolences.”

As it turns out, half the line just needed to express condolences for Master Jinn’s death, how sad, how tragic, how avoidable. He was so young. Obi-Wan was practically sweating by the time they got to the quartermaster’s desk, at which point he was promptly told that he was missing three forms. 

Obi-Wan stood in front of the quartermaster’s desk, gripping Anakin’s hand in his, trying not to unwind. “But I filled out the application on the portal -”

“Yes, but you need your knight’s identification code,” the Quartermaster said briskly. “You input your padawan code.”

“How do I find out my knight’s identification code?”

“It should be on your identification card, son.”

“I was only knighted a week ago.” They were staring. They were all staring - “They haven’t issued me a card yet.”

“I’ll refer you to my assistant, Knight Kenobi.”

Anakin tugged on Obi-Wan’s sleeve. “Are we not getting my new clothing?”

A horrible tremor rose in Obi-Wan’s chest: a choking, sinking feeling. It crawled up his throat, making his trachea burn and his head pound. It felt like a balloon expanding, splintering his chest cavity and threatening to crack him apart. 

Everybody was watching. They could not see it. Think about Rishi. Do not let them see it. 

After fifteen humiliating minutes sitting at a sympathetic Meela’s desk, Obi-Wan finally managed to secure them some clothes. Anakin also received the standard pack of Jedi personal items, including his own toiletries and datapad. They secured an identification code for Anakin and input him into the database, and gave him his own lanyard and set of cards. Older Jedi tended to keep them in a hidden pocket in their robes, but for obvious reasons they affixed them to the neck of younger children. 

But, without the identification code and five hundred more hoops, Obi-Wan couldn’t request a new living quarters and new furniture. He thanked Meela for her time anyway, stopped Anakin from attempting to requisition a B900-A40 droid with HyperFlex specs, and escaped something as simple as the Quartermaster’s trying to avoid rattling apart. 

Obi-Wan only exhaled when they were outside, looking at his datapad and marking off the first line. The to-do list scrolled down the screen, and onto another page. Anakin was already shifting from foot to foot, bored. 

“One down,” Obi-Wan said. “Three more.”

“Do we have to?” Anakin whined. “Why were the other Jedi so mean?”

Obi-Wan stopped short. He looked down at Anakin, who was fiddling with his obi again. “Stop messing with that. And they weren’t being mean, Anakin, they were just concerned.”

But Anakin just wrinkled his nose. “They were being mean. They were making you feel bad.”

How had he even - “If you keep quiet through the errands, you can have some fruit for lunch at the commissary.”

“Wizard!”

****

It quickly became obvious that nobody approved of Obi-Wan and Anakin.

Whispers followed them everywhere. Masters, old friends of Qui-gon, subtly disapproved of his choices. Which was nothing new - Obi-Wan had silently suffered almost everybody in the Temple disapproving of Qui-gon to him for years - but somehow it made Obi-Wan want to tear his hair out. The knights - the other knights - expressed incredulity that somebody knighted that morning received a padawan that afternoon. The padawans refused to even talk to Anakin, and he very quickly stopped trying. 

Obi-Wan’s own friends...he did not have many. He was never in the Temple long enough to significantly interact or make connections with any other padawans or knights. He was never home for longer than a few weeks, and if he was planetside for longer than a month then it was because Qui-gon was recuperating from getting blown up when Obi-Wan hijacked a pirate ship and crash landed it on a small moon. 

He used to have friends. Bant and Garen and Reeft and Siri...but a small and horrible part of Obi-Wan hated talking to them. A conversation with them always felt like they were trying to communicate with an Obi-Wan who hadn’t existed for a very long time, crying out over an impassable canyon. Meanwhile, Obi-Wan had begun resenting people who saw through him. 

Anakin was a stubborn and implacable kid, but he was very perceptive. He clung tighter and tighter to Obi-Wan’s robes the further they walked into the temple, and eventually Obi-Wan had to disentangle him and give him a quick talk about appropriate behavior. It was his tenth talk to Anakin about appropriate behavior - about everything from using utensils to washing his hair - but this was the first time he seemed to understand why. 

“So they don’t like you if you don’t do all the dumb stuff they do?”

“It’s not dumb,” Obi-Wan hissed. “And keep your voice down, this is a library.”

Judging from Anakin’s impressed gawking, this was his first time in a library. He clearly didn’t understand why they were supposed to be quiet either, and Obi-Wan was beginning to understand that Anakin refused to do anything unless you gave him a reason. 

Obi-Wan carefully placed him in a small chair in the children’s section, in front of a brightly colored plastic table. Some other initiates were sitting around coloring, or working their way through children’s books. Anakin squinted up at him judgmentally as Obi-Wan frantically grabbed the clunky and friendly library datapad and scrolled through the catalogue until he found a likely suspect. Bugs of Rainforest Planets, light on the words, perfect. 

“Just stay here until I come back,” Obi-Wan whispered, after a hurried explanation of why they were quiet in libraries. “Don’t leave this chair. Please.”

“I want more fruit,” Anakin warned. 

“You will have more fruit. Now please don’t move.”

This was not how you Jedi masters taught padawans. This was not how it was supposed to work. Obi-Wan was not doing this right. He was doing this terribly. And everybody knew, and everybody was judging him.

The children’s librarian was a kind, plump older Twi’lek with long silver lekku down to her waist. Madame Hallan had been a personal favorite of Obi-Wan’s when he was a youngling, and he knew that she still had a soft spot for him. She was probably the only librarian who didn’t explicitly distrust him.

He easily kidnapped her for a meeting - or, maybe, she took one look at his face and kidnapped him - and she shepherded him into her office. He had never been inside, and Obi-Wan felt weirdly on the other end of the fence of his childhood. It was bright and cheerful and had datapads scattered everywhere with tax forms. 

“I understand you have a new padawan,” Madame Hallan said kindly. “I saw him reading. He seems like a wonderful boy.”

She and half the temple understood that he had a new padawan. “I need your help,” Obi-Wan said, excruciatingly impolitely. Since when was Obi-Wan impolite? Since when was he lost? “It’s Anakin - I need to enroll him for lessons and I need some introductory literature for him and -”

“Dear, you’ll want to talk to Master Ravenholme for that.” Master Ravenholme was the Master of Education, and personal blight of many. “He’ll likely ask Anakin to take a placement test to determine which classes he joins.”

“Anakin can’t take a placement test,” Obi-Wan said. “He can’t read.”

To Madame Hallan’s credit, and raising a lot of questions about what exactly the other Jedi knew about Anakin, she accepted the information with a thoughtful look and a nod. “Does he know his letters and some words, or is it total illiteracy?”

Obi-Wan scrubbed his face. He was perched in the uncomfortable metal chair across from her desk, elbows propped on his knees. “It’s sporadic. He’s not totally illiterate, and I think he can read mechanical instruction manuals and labels and signs and that sort of thing...if it has to do with starfighters, he can write the instruction manual...I don’t know, I haven’t checked, but I can’t send him to class like this…”

“Calm yourself, Obi-Wan. Release that tension into the Force. Let’s take this one step at a time,” Madame Hallan said firmly, as Obi-Wan carefully breathed. “I will schedule a  reading and writing assessment appointment for Anakin for an assessment. Knight Fu and Knight Kili are available to administer personal tutoring until we get him up to speed.” Fu and Kili were two teachers in the special education department, which was somewhat lean for children over the age of ten or so. Most of the ‘delayed’ children were quickly assigned to the Jedi Corp. Obi-Wan was highly educated on this, and shamefully bitter. “Now, doesn’t that sound like a plan?”

“Yes, ma’am.” 

“Good.” Madame Hallen typed something out on her computer, making Obi-Wan’s datapad ping. “I’ve sent you a few of the handbooks that we give new knights and first-time teachers. Hopefully they’ll be of some use to you.” She smiled reassuringly at him, oozing serenity. “I think you will make a wonderful teacher, Obi-Wan. Our Temple’s never seen a young Jedi as dedicated and hardworking as you.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

 “And I’m certain that once you and Anakin get settled in, no matter where he came from, he will make an excellent student. We’re all Jedi here, after all.”

Betting was not Jedi-like behavior, despite the fact that Obi-Wan was a world-class betting champion on three Outer Rim worlds (there had been a diamond heist), but Obi-Wan would bet five hundred credits right now that Anakin was not in the chair where he had left him.

In the end, Obi-Wan was pleasantly surprised. Anakin, obviously, was not in the chair where Obi-Wan had left him, but he was within easy searching distance and hadn’t destroyed any droids yet. Instead, he had just meandered to the large picture encyclopedia propped up on a wooden stand, flipping through the flimsi with wide eyes. 

Obi-Wan stood next to him, unable to smile but amused all the same. “Do you know what that is?”

Anakin nodded fervently. “It’s an encyclopedia! The padawan guy said it has pictures of every smart species in the galaxy.”

There were, of course, digital databases for these things, but kids loved flipping through things. “Sentient species. Did you learn anything?”

“Yeah!” Anakin lingered on a picture of a Togruta before flipping further at light speed. “The padawan guy said that Qui-gon was a ‘rogue Jedi’ and that he taught you how to do crime and conquer planets and backflip and stuff.”

Obi-Wan pinched the bridge of his nose. Hard. “Please don’t listen to Temple gossip, Anakin. It’ll jump down Coruscant while the truth takes an airlift.”

“But you can do backflips, I saw it.” Anakin turned to look at him - eyes wide, unjudging. “What does ‘rogue Jedi’ mean?”

What did it mean? Obi-Wan had spent half his life wondering. “It means that Qui-gon and I had a lot of adventures,” Obi-Wan said tactfully. “My training was somewhat unconventional in comparison with many other Jedi.”

But Anakin just beamed. “That’s so cool! Is my training going to be uncon - unconvectional?”

“Unconventional.” Obi-Wan sighed. “And at this point, I’m afraid so.”

Was Anakin going to resent him for this once he grew older? He must. Anakin would never be a real Jedi, a proper one. Just like Obi-Wan wasn’t. And Obi-Wan had spent almost a decade now frantically, fervently, desperately trying. He had done everything: mastered the art of saber-fighting, excelled in as many topics as he could. He was an expert in diplomacy, politics, ecology, and tactics. Everybody who met Obi-Wan found him charming, graceful, and handsome - and nobody who ever met Obi-Wan liked him. He topped his classes, was better at saberplay than most knights, and had personally saved the lives of three princesses and a memorable duchess, and he couldn’t figure out how to be a Jedi.

Obi-Wan couldn’t teach what he didn’t have. And he would never be able to give -

“Cool! I want to backflip and conquer planets too.” Anakin grinned up at him, yellow teeth flashing in the soft library lights. “I already know how to do crime, I’m really good at it!”

“Jedi have diplomatic immunity, so technically I’ve never done a crime,” Obi-Wan said, somewhat testily. 

“What’s diplomatic immunity?”

“Lesson number two, padawan, is that it means we can do whatever we want so long as we can justify it in the mission report.”

“Wizard!”

Maybe Obi-Wan should just never repeat anything Qui-gon had ever said to him. Ever. 

In a roundabout act of bribery, Obi-Wan finally led Anakin towards the cafeteria. It wasn’t lunchtime, but few Jedi strictly followed the guidelines of breakfast, lunchtime, and dinnertime. This was mostly because the creche and Initiates did, and nobody wanted to be in the cafeteria while children were everywhere. Obi-Wan was somewhat infamous in certain circles for braving the cafeteria at 0500 hours, when the space was completely overtaken by retired and venerated Masters sipping tea and playing intense grudge matches of shogi. Obi-Wan had been forced into the matter by his habit of waking up at 0430, but the shogi skills he learned had once settled a trade negotiation between two tribal groups with an ancestral grudge on a Mid-Rim planet, so he had no regrets.

Anakin was practically crushing his hand in excitement. His head whipped around everywhere, eyes wide and drinking in the sublimely banal and boring sight. There was the salad bar, there was the meat bar, there was the drink fountain...but to Anakin, it was the most amazing thing on Coruscant. It almost made Obi-Wan smile. When was the last time he had that expression on his face? Even the beautiful spires of Naboo were commonplace to him. 

“And they just -”

“Yes, they just give you the food.” Obi-Wan stopped in the center of the crowded thoroughfare - where, thankfully, everybody was far too focused on their meal or their friends to care about the Temple’s newest spectacle. “I’m sorry, Anakin. What do you...eat, again?”

Anakin suffered this atrocious act of caretaking patiently. What had he been eating until now? Just the self-stable noodles? Had he been handling boiling water?! “At home we ate jinjaraak and ekijun. People with money had fruit and stuff.” He looked around hopefully. “And they just give you fruit -”

“Right,” Obi-Wan said. He struggled to remember the food Shmi had served them. It had been mostly gruel. Obi-Wan had been around the block enough to see that she had been an adept cook of terrible ingredients. “Could you give me an idea of what those are?”

“Uh…” Anakin made little slapping motions with his hands. “Jinjaraak is from clay and lard and spices. I help Mom make little cakes. Like this, see?” At Obi-Wan’s dubious expression, he quickly clarified, “From the good clay. Near the dried up rivers. Not the bad clay. That stuff makes you sick. O’la’rek ate some of that and she got super sick and she barfed up blue -”

  “Let’s get you some fruit,” Obi-Wan said.

Anakin got as much fruit as he wanted. Obi-Wan was too busy thinking about what ‘good clay’ could possibly mean to stop him. He could take the extra back to their quarters, anyway. 

There was a line for medical diets, and Obi-Wan eventually shuffled an ecstatic fruit-chomping Anakin into that line. He had to present the script the Halls of Healing gave him to the friendly yet belaboured Padawan working the booth that day, and waited patiently as the Padawan squinted at it and ran off to go get his supervisor. Anakin was in Rylothian Heaven, complete with the trees of plenty. 

Eventually the supervisor shuffled out, and when Obi-Wan recognized Master Law he bowed. The gruff Patitite squinted at Obi-Wan, then down at the effervescent Anakin with jogan juice staining his sleeve. It was a good thing Obi-Wan thought ahead and ordered extra robes.

“Kenobi,” Master Law finally said, with an air of crisp memory. “Iron deficiency.”

“Yes, Master.” Please don’t remind him. “I’m here with a prescription for my -”

“And the Vitamin D deficiency. And malnutrition?” Master Law squinted further at Obi-Wan, as if half-convinced that he couldn’t possibly be remembering correctly. “I had you eating Lo’rok paste for a month.”

“Yes, Master. After I was stationed on Neskar.”

“How the blazes was a Padawan stationed on -” Master Law cut himself off abruptly, staring down at Anakin instead. He looked him up and down with sharp eyes, seemingly picking out a dozen things that Obi-Wan just couldn’t see. “I’ll get you the nutrient shakes. See that he has one with every meal, three meals a day. I’m prescribing extra vitamin gummies, he’s a bit yellow. Those dietician hacks at the Halls of Healing don’t know anything about real food.”

Obi-Wan really didn’t want to get in the middle of that, so he just nodded. But Anakin blinked up at the man, flecks of seeds caught on the corner of his mouth. “What’s a gummy?”

“A very sweet, tasty candy,” Master Law said gravely. “Which young Padawans only receive when they are very brave.”

Anakin brightened. “What’s candy?”

“The best food in the galaxy.” Master Law’s stern countenance split into a sharp smile. “Seems like that’s just what the doctor ordered. If you’ve never had any, then that means I have to prescribe you a double dose.”

Anakin grinned to match, bright and wide, with yellow teeth and crinkled eyes. “That means I’m brave! I’m super brave! Padme said so, and you said so, so it’s like I’m extra brave!”

For some reason that he just couldn’t parse, Obi-Wan found himself anxiously saying, “I think you’re brave too, Anakin.” 

“Triple brave!”

The cafeteria was quickly proving to be Anakin’s favorite place in the Temple. Obi-Wan was reasonably certain that this was a good thing, because it made Anakin happy and happiness was good. That was a reliable fact of the universe: when happiness was scarce, sweet food could usually supply it. Sometimes you took what you could get.

Obi-Wan made an uncharacteristic move and placed a great deal of sugar on his oatmeal. Dumping sugar on oatmeal was crazy. This was probably what going insane felt like. Obi-Wan felt like a criminal. 

“You’re very boring, Obi-Wan,” Anakin said judgmentally. 

“I’m afraid so,” the ten time war veteran agreed. 

It could be worse. Nobody was around to see his shame but Anakin, and the small child wouldn't squeal. All he had to do was ply Anakin with nutrition shakes and fruit, take him back to their quarters, not leave their quarters again for another two weeks in order to recover from this experience, and -

“Obi-Wan! Goodness, Obi-Wan!”

Both Obi-Wan and Anakin jumped a foot in the air, Anakin fighting to keep his food balanced on his child-sized tray. But Obi-Wan recognized the voice, the smooth familiarity soothing his panicking heart and calming down his padawan by connection. 

Despite the fact that the voice was the last person he wanted to see.

Bant didn’t run, because she was a respectable Knight, but she did speedwalk in a dignified waddle towards Obi-Wan and Anakin. Anakin subtly slid closer to Obi-Wan, which he should really discourage. 

“Obi-Wan! Oh, goodness, you - you jerk, you big jerk!” Bant wrung her flippers, jowls shaking with the clear uge to wrap up Obi-Wan in her patented tight hug and foiled only by the tray that Obi-Wan was holding in front of him like a shield. “You’re an absolute bantha’s - oh!”

She had just noticed Anakin, who held his tray tightly. He was frowning at Bant, and Obi-Wan could feel a twinge of childish bad emotion across their still nascent bond. Wait. What bond?

Bant was oblivious, or put on a good show of it. “You must be Padawan Skywalker,” she said warmly. She bent down a little, and Obi-Wan was struck by nostalgia for her glimmering eyes and bright smile. Bant loved kids. Obi-Wan never had. “It’s so good to meet you! Have you been taking care of your silly master for me?”

Anakin pursed his lips judgmentally. “My teacher’s not silly,” Anakin said, a bit loudly. “He’s great and smart and does backflips. It’s not his fault he’s a jerk!”

Never mind. Obi-Wan was never taking Anakin out in public again. He carefully destroyed the urge to wince, settling for smiling weakly at Anakin. Bant looked a little taken back - shocked by the idea that Anakin could have taken her friendly teasing seriously. Or maybe that he would openly call Obi-Wan a jerk. Obi-Wan wasn’t going to contest it. It was fair. 

“Bant’s my best friend, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, with as much warmth as he could muster. His smile was looking more pathetic than anything, so he dropped it. “She knows how good my backflips are.”

“The best in the Temple!” Bant immediately swore up and down. “I’m awfully sorry, Anakin. I think your master’s the coolest guy here. Come on, why don’t you two come eat lunch with me and the rest of Obi-Wan’s friends? We’ve all been dying to meet the newest member of the family!”

A stone sank in Obi-Wan’s gut. He looked over the crowd, effortlessly picking out the familiar table in the back center. Sure enough, he saw the telltale gawks of Siri and Quinlan.

Joy. The two people he wanted to talk to the least. Those two ate Obi-Wan for breakfast on a good day. They would devour him now. They could smell weakness on him. He couldn’t get anything past them. They would take one look at him and know, just know - 

“Obi-Wan has friends?” Anakin asked dubiously. “But he just stays in his room all day.” Went tactfully unsaid: and nobody likes him. 

Somehow, the emotional obstacle course his friends were going to put him through was more appealing than the cold judgement of the nine year old. “I have plenty of friends,” Obi-Wan lied through his teeth. “Let’s go say hi.”

It felt like walking to the guillotine. Actually, Obi-Wan had walked to a guillotine before, and this was - no, it wasn’t worse. Hadn’t he done it twice? The first time was stressful, because he wasn’t sure if Qui-Gon had seduced the prison guard yet. The second time was fine, since he had hidden his lightsaber in the loose floorboard under the guillotine before he set up his own capture. So -  better than the first time, worse than the second time. 

Bizarrely, Siri and Quinlan grinned when they saw them. Obi-Wan was actively fighting the urge to hide behind the nine year old. The nine year old who he couldn’t possibly have formed a training bond with - he had been his padawan all of a week, it was impossible - but who had undoubtedly sensed his anxiety anyway. 

“Obi-Wan, I can’t fucking believe it,” Quinlan shouted, far too loudly. He and Bant’s trays were empty, while the slow eater Siri’s bowl of grains were half-eaten. They had been there for a while, probably hours, talking about life. He had always left after thirty minutes. He had stuff to do. “I must have left you ten damn voicemails -”

“You son of a varnaak.” Siri had a death grip on her spoon, wielding it like a lightsaber. “I’m strangling you with your intestine. Not inviting me to your own knighting -”

“If you’re going to be mean, we’re leaving!” Anakin interrupted, voice high and reedy. “I already said so! I will stomp your feet!”

“You’re not allowed to stomp their feet, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, exhausted beyond measure. “Hello, all. Save the interrogation for after we’ve eaten, please.”

And maybe it was the sheer power of Anakin and his mighty feet, but his friends quieted enough for Obi-Wan to shove sugary oats into his mouth and for Anakin to polish off his fruit before starting in on his nutrient shake. Obi-Wan had to stop and take a napkin and wipe the seeds off the corner of his mouth, and help him to insert the straw in the protein shake, but the act of sucking on a straw amused Anakin and he didn’t hate the taste. There were friendly animal species on the cup. Special nutrient shake for chronically malnourished children - now with bright colors! 

His friends just watched them, without even food to make the environment faux-casual. Their dark eyes seemed to follow him, and Obi-Wan felt his skin crawl. He didn’t want to deal with this. He could barely deal with Quinlan on a good day, much less...today. Any day, lately.

Finally, his grace period seemed to tick down to zero, and Quinlan broke the ice with a fishing spear and an excess of exuberance. “Is this the famous little guy we’ve heard so much about? I hear you’re a good pilot, kid!”

And, just like that, Quinlan was Anakin’s favorite person on Coruscant. “I’m the best pilot,” Anakin asserted arrogantly. Obi-Wan mentally noted the tendency for arrogance and pride down in the ‘Goal Setting!’ part of his brain that was half-heartedly drafting a training curriculum. “I can blow up anything and anyone.”

“Sounds like Quinlan,” Siri snickered. Unlike Bant, she was terrified of children, but she hid it well. “He and your master are Joballian twins that way. Those two could start a fire in deep space.”

“So who are you people?” Anakin asked. Obi-Wan put ‘unbelievably blunt’ in his mental training curriculum. “Are you really Obi-Wan’s friends? He doesn’t like you.”

“I like them very much,” Obi-Wan said rotely. Quinlan pantomimed a shot to the heart. 

But Bant just smiled down at Anakin, unflappable. “You’re a padawan, young one. You should call Obi-Wan your master. It’s good to be polite.”

“Why should I have to do that?” Anakin’s voice tinged a little louder, and at a pointed look from Obi-Wan he toned it down. Siri’s eyebrows rose. “He’s my teacher, not a master of no one.”

Bant winced a bit, and all three of them rippled discomfort in the Force. So they knew, even though it wasn’t totally public knowledge. Quinlan had undoubtedly used his ridiculous clearance as a Shadow to access the Naboo mission records and spilled the details to them. Keeping it professional, as always. 

“Master means something very different to Jedi,” Bant said gently. “It’s a special relationship between two people. Every Jedi teaches and learns from each other, but your master is the person who guides you and makes sure you go to bed on time. It’s just the same word for a very different thing than you’re used to.”

“What do you mean by that?” Anakin gnawed on his straw suspiciously. “I thought Obi-Wan was the one who taught me.”

Quinlan, who had far more experience with the wider world than Siri and Bant, caught on first. He propped his elbows on the table, and Obi-Wan saw him visibly struggle for the ‘wise teacher’ tone before giving up. “The Jedi have different relationships than you’re used to, kid. Who took care of you and watched you all day back home?”

This was heading into dangerous territory, and Obi-Wan frowned dangerously at Quinlan, but Anakin just hummed. “Mom took care of me and we moved around together. But Old Lady Hun watches me and the other kids in the gathering space when Mom’s busy. And when Jipol was sick, Mom and I took care of her two daughters. And Old Man Wa taught me how to fix things. And -”

“Right. So the Jedi are like that. Instead of a very small number of people raising kids, every adult raises every kid. So, for example, any Jedi would tell you to stop running in the halls or stop you from misbehaving -”

“And every Jedi did, with this one,” Siri added. 

“ - but any Knight or Master would help you with your homework, too,” Quinlan finished, elbowing Siri. “We all help each other here. We share food, stuff, school, and teachings. That’s why we practice nonattachment - everything’s everybody’s, not just yours. Make sense?”

Anakin’s brow was furrowed. He paid close attention to everything - chewing everything over again and again until it made sense. Obi-Wan shoveled oatmeal in his mouth, glad Quinlan was doing this. “Why does nonattachment mean you don’t get moms or dads?”

Dangerous territory. Bant opened her mouth to say something soothing, but Quinlan beat her to the punch. “Well, to Jedi, we think the idea of just putting two or three people in charge of kids is pretty crazy. Kids are loud and bouncy. One or two people would get totally stressed out and make mistakes. And imagine just a few people teaching you about life. They could believe all this crazy stuff, and then so would you.”

“And what if the parent’s being a total jerk?” Siri pointed out. “Then the kid’s stuck with that. But when there’s other people around, they can stop and tell the parent that they’re being a total jerk. Then they have to cut it out.”

Anakin narrowed his eyes. “So nobody beats their kids here because the other Jedi would get mad?”

Awkward silence loomed. Finally, Quinlan said, “Yeah, totally. Anyway, that’s why our way rocks and makes sense. Boom. Teaching moment.” Quinlan slapped the table in victory. “We are so good at this. We’re going to be the greatest teachers ever, Anakin. Forget lame old Obi-Wan, he’s going to lead you down the path of boring. Stick with Knight Vos, I’m gonna lead you down the path that rocks.”

At Anakin’s deeply confused expression, Bant put a hand on his back. But when she spoke she spoke to Obi-Wan, gleaming eyes boring into his. “We’re Obi-Wan’s best friends. We’re going to be here for you almost as much as Obi-Wan is. None of us have padawans yet, so we’re all really excited to help you! Did you know I’m a doctor?”

Anakin perked up. He respected doctors highly - apparently it was a very prestigious position on Tatooine. “Wow! Obi-Wan’s friends with a doctor?”

“And I’m a superspy action hero, kid!” Quinlan flexed, tossing his dreads. “I can teach you how to hack into anything!”

“I’m a better pilot than anyone at this table.” Siri awkwardly waved her fist in the air in a pantomime of excitement. “I’ll help you...fly things. Which you can apparently already do. But I’ll teach you how to do it better.”

The idea was heady to Anakin. His eyes widened, filled with possibility and excitement. Of smiling adult faces, wanting to help. But he looked at Obi-Wan instead, fear sneaking in through the gap bored by long experience with misery. “So what does a master do, then?”

Obi-Wan smiled wanly at Anakin. Experimentally, he tried sending him as much warmth as possible. He didn’t have much to spare, but Anakin seemed to appreciate the sentiment. “I’ll protect you, Anakin. And I’d like it if you continued calling me Obi-Wan.”

And he knew that meant more to Anakin than all the rest. At least Obi-Wan won there. 

Although Obi-Wan had gone his entire life despairing for Quinlan’s future padawan, he somehow handled Anakin wonderfully. Even Siri awkwardly asked a question about Anakin’s favorite kind of ship - clearly expecting an answer along the lines of ‘a big one!’ or ‘one that shoots lasers!’ - and sat through Anakin’s ten minute scientific dissertations on the difference in engine ports between Genoshian Special X100 and Genoshian Special X200. 

When’s the last time Obi-Wan had a long conversation with Anakin, where they just talked about nothing? He’d been so selfish, focusing entirely on himself and not even thinking about Anakin. His friends were doing this a thousand times better than he was. They should be the one with a padawan, not him. Qui-Gon hadn’t thought he was ready for knighthood until - well, until it was convenient, but if it took him this long to be knighted he ought to be forty before he got a padawan. 

In a characteristically deft maneuver, Quinlan had flagged down a friend of his - Ku Lun, a friendly face and teacher to the Initiates - and gave Anakin a real world lesson in Jedi togetherness by asking him to walk Anakin back to their quarters. Anakin shot a panicked look at Obi-Wan, and Obi-Wan deeply wished to send a panicked look back, but he just nodded supportively. 

“Don’t you want to ask Knight Lun about lessons?” Obi-Wan said. “You can work together to design your school.”

The concept of school, and the power to choose it, was obviously heady to Anakin, and he jumped off the bench with only a tinge of reluctance. “Come back to the room in thirty minutes or you’re fired,” Anakin told Obi-Wan gravely, yet nonsensically, before running off with Knight Lun. 

It wasn’t until the sounds of Anakin’s chattering faded, then disappeared completely, that Obi-Wan turned back to his friends with a sigh. Their plot had worked. Quinlan and Siri’s perfect score in tactics - second only to his more than perfect score - had won again. He was subject to the masses, and the masses were stressed over his wellbeing. 

Better make the pre-emptive strike. “Greetings, my honored friends,” Obi-Wan said dully. “My very best friends in the galaxy, whom I have not spoken to in months.”

“And whose fault is that, you asshole!” Quinlan thumped the table, making the plasteelware rattle, and cuing a withering look from Bant. “You drop out of contact. You leave on a routine diplomatic mission. You get wrapped up in an interplanetary war, obviously, because that’s how your routine missions always go. And you come back with a kid and the head of a Sith?”

“You have the situation well in hand, Quinlan. There’s nothing more I can teach you.”

“Idiot! I’m not asking for a mission report, here.” Quinlan set his mouth, as tempestuous as ever. “Are you okay?”

Was he okay?

Maybe Bant caught something on his expression, because she placed a reassuring flipper on his arm. “We’re sorry about Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan. We know how much he meant to you. You don’t have to go through this alone.”

“You can’t get rid of us just because you don’t talk to us.” Siri scooped the rest of her oats in her mouth, clearly regretful that she no longer had something to hide behind. “Reeft and Garen feel the same way. You’re lucky Garen’s on a mission, or he would have staked out your door.” He would have. Garen was insane. “I know they waived the two weeks in solitude considering your circumstances, but that doesn’t mean you don’t need it. Anakin needs -”

“As his master, I have the best idea of what Anakin needs.” Obi-Wan kept his voice flat, dispassionate. He wasn’t a child anymore, not that impetuous Initiate who yelled and stomped and screamed. Obi-Wan had drowned that anger under thick layers of Jedi robe years ago. “I appreciate and understand your concern. However, I ask for faith in my abilities to handle my padawan.”

“Oh, no. Not the ‘I Am A Perfect Jedi And You Are The Irresponsible Bugs Beneath My Feet’ voice.” Siri didn’t sound amused, as she normally would be while making fun of him. What was funny about speaking properly? “Don’t shut down on us.”

“I’ve never understood where you got the impression that Jedi don’t have feelings, Obi-Wan,” Bant scolded, “but you know it’s not true. Jedi feel their feelings. They feel them and release them. This is you repressing them. They’re just going to fester and get worse if you do that.”

“Yes, Bant. I recieved top marks in Philosophy 101, same as you.” Obi-Wan picked at his sealed up, the rims of thick juice sloshing in the corners, before forcing himself to stop. He forced his hands still on the table, pressing them down hard on the linoleum. “I don’t know what you want me to say. I don’t know what good a confession would do to all of you. Obviously I miss my master. Obviously I’m all…very sad about it.” Obi-Wan jerked his shoulders in a half-shrug, ignoring everyone’s unimpressed looks. “What good will talking about it do? I have to remain focused. In the real world, you don’t get the luxury of hermitage.”

“Luckily, you’re not in the real world.” Bant’s wry tone imparted the air quotes around ‘real world’. “You’re home. You and Anakin are safe here.” Obi-Wan snorted. “Knight Kenobi, what was that?”

Uh oh. But Siri unknowingly came to his rescue, leaning forward with as intent and sympathetic expression as she could wring from her usually severe countenance. “Don’t give me that dung, Obi-Wan. I cried for a month after Master Tahl died. You were there for me every second of it. What, are you so special that you don’t need help? Are you so much better than us that you don’t feel what every sentient feels? Your ‘better than you’ attitude doesn’t make you better than yourself.”

Bant made a warbling sound of frustration. “Siri, let’s not insult the person we are trying to help.”

“It’s not my fault he’s so - look, this is about Anakin -”

A tightly wound rope of...of something bad snapped in Obi-Wan’s gut. “You don’t think I can handle him.”

“Nobody’s saying that, brother,” Quinlan said, placating for the first time in his life, “but it’s like I was just telling the little guy, right? Nobody can do this by themselves. Cultures that try to do it are - they’re just crazy!”

“None of you think I can do this,” Obi-Wan whispered harshly, trying to keep the - the bad thing locked tight inside, incapable. It wouldn’t stop overflowing, a cup that runneth over. “Nobody in this Temple thinks I’m capable of taking care of him. They don’t think he can be a Jedi. It’s my fault. It’s because he has such a fuck-up for a master.”

Everybody around him suddenly radiated extreme alarm in the Force in unison. Was it really that unusual for him to say the words that swirled around in his head every hour of the day?

“Obi-Wan, we’re the fuck-ups. I mean, me and Siri and Garen. You and Bant are the Rylothian angels here.”

“That’s not what everybody else thinks,” Obi-Wan said lowly. “I’ve always been tainted because of Qui-Gon. Now just being around me is going to taint Anakin. Everybody knows it.”

“Tainted?” Bant asked with alarm. What was alarming? “What are you talking about -”

But Obi-Wan barrelled through her, unwilling to hear whatever sweet and placating words she had for him today. He stood up, carefully stepping off the bench and fussily fixing his robes with hands that did not shake. “We are going to prove it to them. Anakin will become a Jedi. I will make Anakin a Jedi, if it’s the last thing I do.”

He swept off, feeling a little bit dramatic, feeling as if he had expelled the smallest amount of emotion he could. That was the least he could give, portioning out bits of himself to the hungry and braying crowd. 

Why did they want these pieces of him so desperately? What was valuable about these hideous parts of Obi-Wan - the fear, the insecurity, the nightmares shaking him awake each night? People like Bant and Quinlan dug and dug and dug until they found what they were looking for, as if they wanted to prove something to themselves, to him, to the Jedi. 

Prove that he was inferior. Prove that he was just as wild and angry as everybody always said. Prove that his flimsy mask of ‘A Perfect Jedi’ was nothing more than a stage actor placing a pulp-mache bantha’s head mask over his face and strutting about as if he was a king.  Prove what Qui-Gon had always thought of him: that any love for him could only be held at arm's length, that a kid who needed to prove himself never required support or a helping hand, that there was no such thing as ‘good enough’ when you lived in competition with ghosts and shadows. 

Prove what everybody knew, and what Obi-Wan could not hide.

***

When Obi-Wan got home, Anakin was lying on the ground committing atrocities upon the ravaged corpse of a pilfered library droid.

“Please start putting down a tarp when you do that,” Obi-Wan said. “You’ve been getting oil into the carpet.” He paused a beat. “And please stop sneaking away from chaperones.”

“But I need to practice sneaking away from good guys so I can be good at sneaking away from bad guys! And it’s not like I was caught.” Anakin didn’t look up at him, absorbed in his work. “That’s Jedi lesson three, right? ‘Do whatever you want, just don’t get caught’?”

“When had - why do -” Obi-Wan pinched the bridge of his nose, already regretting the one day exposure to Qui-Gon. But..in the face of that logic, Obi-Wan was forced to concede. It was objectively true. “Yes. But make an exception for me. Just don’t get caught by others.”

“You got it! Hey, pinch this wire for me.”

So Obi-Wan lay down on his stomach across from Anakin, staring at him from over a sea of rusty machinery. His round little face, somehow still clinging onto baby fat, was smooth as only a child’s could be. It was flaky and rough from the blistering heat of twin suns, but he had ointment now. His featherly light blonde hair would darken without its sunshine bleach, and it would grow long in limp brown shags. He would look like his mother - if, apparently, there was no father to speak of. 

His expression was screwed up in concentration, tongue poking out of his teeth as he carefully screwed in a bolt where it likely was not intended to go. There was something strangely beautiful about him in that moment - an intelligence at work, a powerful focus rarely applied. He glowed in the Force like a sun, overwhelming and breath-taking. 

But when Obi-Wan’s breath caught, he wasn’t sure if it was the Force. Maybe it was just Anakin. Could you fall in love like this? Just by looking at somebody, just by feeling how great they could be? Stronger than Obi-Wan, more righteous than Qui-Gon? Kinder than Master Dooku, more vibrant than Grandmaster Yoda? 

Could he be better? Or would Obi-Wan only make him worse?

“Do you like my friends?” Obi-Wan whispered.

“Gimmie a min’.” Anakin finished screwing the bolt, huffing at the piece. “Bad. Gotta redo...what didya say?”

“Do you like my friends?”

“Oh!” Anakin brightened. “They’re super cool and awesome Jedi! They’re just like I thought Jedi would be. Bant’s a doctor! Did you know that?”

“I did.” A pang shot through Obi-Wan’s heart. “They’d be better teachers than I. I’m sorry, Anakin. I’m sorry you’re stuck with…”

“No way! I’m sorry you’re stuck with me, Obi-Wan.” Anakin’s expression crumpled a little, although he bravely tried to keep it straight. He was already picking that up from Obi-Wan. “I’m why everybody keeps looking at us weird...it’s all my fault. All the Jedi hate us.”

“Anakin, no. The Jedi love all sentient beings.” Judging from Anakin’s expression, Obi-Wan was speaking straight bantha poodoo and acting as if the Corellian moons were made of cheese. “It’s true. They’d - they’d all help you. You don’t need to rely on me.”

Wires hissed and sparked. Anakin was quiet for a moment, stripping some wires with a deft, chubby hand and tying them together. He reached out to grab a blowtorch, but at Obi-Wan’s dangerous expression he carefully retreated his hand. It was a matter of time until he was using his lightsaber to solder metal. Incorrigible. Finally, Anakin said, “What Mr. Quinlan -”

“Knight Quinlan.”

“Knight Quinlan was talking about how you’re just there to guide me and teach me the Jedi way for a few years. And they all acted like the master and padawan thing is so special and great, but…” His face crumpled a little, overcome by an emotion he couldn’t name. “When we had to leave Mom behind...I thought that meant that you were going to be Mom now. But they aren’t going to let us. They’re going to make other people teach me because they don’t like you, and - and - and!”

Fat tears were rolling down Anakin’s cheeks, no matter how hard he scrubbed at his eyes with his sleeve. Obi-Wan quickly sat up and moved closer to Anakin, wrapping him in a hug and letting Anakin press his head into Obi-Wan’s tunic. He would probably have to get this one cleaned with Anakin’s robe. He didn’t know why he was focusing on that instead of Anakin’s hitched breaths as he tried to control his tears.

“Nobody’s going to take you away from me, Anakin.” That wasn’t what he meant to say. That was far too possessive. That hadn’t come out right. But what had Obi-Wan meant to say? “We all just want what’s best for you. You might be happier with the others.” Obi-Wan faltered. “You could be a normal child here. Take lessons. Play with the other children. Learn and grow and be happy. My padawanship, Anakin...it was dangerous and isolated. That’s the kind of life I’ve always lived. I don’t want to expose you to that.”

Anakin separated from him, eyes red-rimmed but dry. “They aren’t strong! All the kids and the old people here - they’re weak! Nothing bad’s ever happened to them, so they think sad people like us are freaks. But you’re strong, Obi-Wan. I want to be strong and just like you. I’m not embarrassed to be your padawan.” He faltered a little, rubbing at his eyes. “It’s okay that you’re sad and that I had to make food for a little bit. Mom would get sad sometimes too. She couldn’t leave bed and stuff. I would take care of Mom and make her food. I don’t mind making you food. The slaves all had each other, we did, but...Mom and I took care of each other. We can take care of each other. It’s just you and me. Right?”

Obi-Wan embraced Anakin tightly, fighting to control his breathing. This wasn’t right. This wasn’t the correct way to do this. He had to be more like Qui-Gon - professional and strong and affectionate. Qui-Gon would have never let Obi-Wan cling to him like this, swearing an oath that neither of them should ever make. 

Nobody was going to help them. None of them had ever forgotten how Obi-Wan had been a failure as a child, and none of them were ever going to forget where Anakin came from. No matter what they all said, their bright smiles and helping hands - none of them understood what it was like. It was just Obi-Wan and Anakin from now on. 

In some strange way, it felt as if it had always been. As if Obi-Wan had only been alone, because he had not met or loved Anakin yet. 

This wasn’t the kind of master Obi-Wan should be. He should be discouraging this desperation and neediness. But he couldn’t discourage it in himself, and he had no idea how to quench it in either of them. 

As the Rylothians would say - if this was a sin, then hell had greater need of him than heaven. 

He would put in the request for active mission duty. If Anakin grew up like he did - in the midst of adventure and hardship - then he could attain the strength he so desired. That was all Obi-Wan knew how to offer, and that was Qui-Gon’s legacy.

“It’s just you and me, Anakin,” Obi-Wan swore, and damned himself. “It’s just you and me…”

[donutloverxo]

A Royal Scandal 2

Modern royalty au

(Image from Pinterest)

Cowritten with @lizzygal

I'm so sorry! I made a mistake while posting this yesterday so I'm reposting it now. Hope y'all enjoy💖

Note - Since y'all liked it so much we've decided to post this fic on both ao3 and my tumblr! There will be no taglists for this however💖 You can subscribe to the ao3 story to receive updates!

Please note that my stories are not to be stolen or reposted on any other site. Reblogs are welcome. This blog and this story is 18+. Do not read, follow or interact if you are not 18+.

Summary - Modern ruler, His Majesty King Steven G Rogers, is on a quest to make his long term secret relationship the real thing. He is a man in love and wants his lover and partner to be his queen.

Warnings - Smut (m/f), dub con/non con, sex tape, scandals, mentions of past domestic abuse, soft dark Steve, possessive Steve, spanking, power imbalance, Mentions of previous domestic abuse.

Pairing - King!Steve x reader

Word count - 8k

To be fair, Steven could understand why his mother was so upset after watching the entire footage from the royal steam rooms. He had a far better understanding after having seen the footage in question. The one that had led to his mother’s reaction that very morning.

Seated beside Carol on the ride back, he slipped in his wireless earbuds and pulled up the first video he found online on his phone.

A separate car had been sent for you for whenever your meeting completed. However, he had a whole series of his own back at the palace before his day could be considered over in the administrative offices. Days were never really over for him. Should anything happen somewhere in his nation, he would be informed. As was expected for a ruler.

Until then, he had fifteen or so minutes to kill till he arrived back at the royal palace, depending on city traffic.

Which was how he found himself watching what was obviously some sort of hidden camera. As the royal banya did not have CCTV cameras. Steve found himself making a mental note to himself to ask Carol about it.

After he watched the video.

He had the feeling that this would not be going away anytime soon. Therefore, he needed to know what was on there if he was going to have to defend his actions, or even speak about it.

It was somewhat surreal watching himself walk into view wearing nothing. Not even a towel. Talking with someone who was obviously you.

Based on where the camera was located, Steve could tell it was somewhere in the hallway that led from the steam rooms into either the showers or locker room. Thank all the saints above your back was to the camera. Half of it anyway. You were standing at a turn in the hallway, leaning against the wall. Half of you hidden. A towel wrapped around your body.

Thanking those saints above still that there was no sound, Steve watched on as a voice narrated the video, some celebrity blogger dissecting the footage as if it were a pivotal moment in some sporting event.

Steve watched himself turn to face you, facing the camera too and exposing his entire self to the world.

Not that he was ashamed. He had nothing to be ashamed about. Steve was built tall and powerful like his father and mother’s father. He kept himself in shape and as for the manhood that hung heavy between his thighs, he refused to be embarrassed by that either. The blogger however did have several opinions about what she referred to as, the royal sword.

She also seemed to be very opinionated when Steve watched himself kneel down in front of you. He’d never watched himself go down on you before and found himself transfixed, easily able to ignore the blogger’s excited rambling.

For once, Steve watched your hands sink into his hair as he sank between your legs. He watched your pleasure grow and grow, he watched you sag back into the wall and reach up, grabbing at it like a cat stretching out in the hot sun.

Seeing it happen like this? Steve felt like a voyeur. He felt like he was doing something wrong. And then, he watched you climax on his face. He watched your hands tighten up against the corner of the walls meeting. He watched himself stand and no longer noticed the commentary as he sheathed himself between your legs and proceeded to pound you into the wall without mercy.

His attention caught on one little inconsequential thing. Watching one of your legs that wound over his thigh bounce wildly each time.

Quickly he exited out of the video and blog. Unwilling to watch more. Pulling a bud from his ear, he glanced over at Carol who was watching the city fly by her window.

“Have you inquired as to if the palace guard has looked into how the video was taken in the royal banya?”

Blonde hair dusted her shoulders as she looked at her king. Carol answered without a second of hesitation. “Already done Your Majesty. The camera was found this morning. A webcam of some type. It’s been sent away for fingerprints and I have the best IT professional I know looking into it, to determine if we can track down who it belongs to. The royal guard has also launched an investigation into all palace employees.”

“Thank you,” he answered her with complete sincerity.

Captain Danvers had been at his side since he assumed the throne and had proven herself hundreds of times over. She was his confidant. She was his bodyguard. She was his closest thing to a friend, if Steve could say he had such a thing. He could tell Carol anything. He had told Carol about you. Carol had told him about her sick mother and in return, Steve have given her a cottage on palace grounds while providing a nurse. So that Carol would be able to spend as much time as possible with her mother in her final days. Carol still lived on the palace grounds in that cottage down by the gardens.

“I’ll let you know when I know something,” she assured him.

***

Your return to the palace felt like it took forever. Mostly because your panties were very obviously damp from leakage and you were greatly concerned about a wet stain. The modern equivalent of a scarlet letter. Letting everyone know what you’d done.

Twice you’d checked in a bathroom along with every mirrored surface you came across.

Alas, it seemed you were in luck.

No one would know that you’d had inappropriate contact on a workday, or think you’d had an accident. Granted if someone would have noticed you planned on blaming your monthlies.

By the grace of the many women who came before you, you managed to get back to the palace without being caught and were about to go change your panties when a familiar face popped into your office.

“Hey! You’re coming! I’m not taking no for an answer!”

Wanda.

Bright red hair and a brighter red dress that was far from office appropriate appeared in your office, leaping in like an acrobat leaping onto a stage. Making you look up from where you stood behind your desk, digging through your handbag.

A bunch of different thoughts buzzed through your head.

What was Wanda talking about? Where did she want you to go? Did Wanda wear that mini-dress to work? Cause it was about five inches too short and did downright sinful things to the girls. Wanda could always pull off anything. She looked amazing in clubwear, sweats and those tea-party dresses that Jackie O was always wearing.

“Coming?” Fell from your lips in a valiant attempt to stall till you could make sense of what was happening. “What are you not taking no for an answer for this time?”

In your roommate swept like a hurricane.

“It’s practically six!” She declared, as if that was supposed to mean something to you. It had you staring at her and waiting for more information. Hands paused in their hunt for clean panties and a pantyliner in your bag’o’stuff. “No more talk of this fake boyfriend. You and me are going to go have dinner. We’re going to hit the bars to pre-game and then to the clubs! Everyone is going so you are too!”

Such news had you freezing in your patent leather pumps.

Pre-gaming? Dinner? Clubs? Everyone?

How?

It was only Thursday and then you remembered.

It was a long weekend. The winning of some great victory over the Germans from the big war that you only kinda remembered hearing about. Mostly because you’d been busy with the border issue and the education overhaul. You’d known that it was coming up and the entire four-day weekend would be spent celebrating.

Wanda saw your face. She saw what you were thinking. She was practically a mind reader. Which led her to pointing at you scoldingly. “No! No no no! No checking emails or messages. No more work. No! We’re going out tonight and we are going to have fun! You remember what fun is? Right?”

But…you really did have emails and messages to check. You actually did have a ton of work to do. Granted you always had emails and messages to check, plus work piling up. It was the nature of your job. Helping in the running of a country was a 24/7 gig.

“Wanda…”

“Nope!” She declared, marching on into your office and behind your desk to chase you out. Shooing you. Literally making you hop away and grab your handbag because you just knew Wanda wasn’t letting you back near your desk. That much was for sure.

Like a sheepdog, she herded you around your messy desk as you attempted to protest, to get her to listen, to inform her that you really really did have a good bit of work to do.

“Wait…hold on…wait, Wanda…just one second…gah!”

“No more protests! I’m not going to hear it anymore! I refuse to let you hide behind work or the fake boyfriend.”

More protests came from you. You tried. You really really did. But Wanda was shoving and pushing and hip bumping you out into a hallway that did not look like an office building, instead, it was very obviously a palace.

Your heels clicked on polished white marble that shone. Walls were cream and had priceless art hung around, gold gilded borders ran up along where the ceiling met the walls. Light fixtures were old, bronze and cut glass. Furniture that belonged in Sotheby’s was sparsely decorated around the halls.

Door were old and creaky up and down the halls, wooden with locks that required big iron keys.

It was unlike any other place you’d ever worked.

You could feel and see and even smell the smokey history oozing from the walls.

A few people were hurrying out of their offices and locking the doors behind them, which Wanda didn’t even let you do as she went on indignantly. “No! Nope! Clint from Tinder will not wait forever! He digs foreigners and he has a job and he loves to dance!”

At mention of Tinder, your gut lurched.

Dear god not this again.

Why had you ever agreed to let Wanda make you a Tinder profile? At the time it seemed so reasonable. Let her make the profile and she’d get off your ass about your alleged imaginary boyfriend. Problem solved! How on earth were you to know she’d be on the damn app making matches for you?

“Why don’t you go out with Clint from Tinder,” you wanted to know, earning yourself a roll of Wanda’s eyes as you were dragged down along the hallway to the massive marble stairs. Looking as if they’d been carved from one piece, smoothly curling down a floor to the ground floor. Large chandeliers hung with cut glass that threw light everywhere. A massive painting hung up on the large wall of a long dead large royal family in the palace of past.

“He’s not my type. But he is absolutely your type.”

Somehow you doubted that.

Sighing deeply and focusing on not snapping your ankle on the stairs and in your heels, you followed Wanda down, mixing in with the few stragglers who were leaving work and making mental notes to text Steve and let him know you’d be late coming back to the palace that night. You were then planning when you could check your work emails and work-phone messages. That had to be done in a quiet place where no one could overhear. Maybe you could go out to the club and feign a tummy ache? Then sneak away from Clint? It’d probably be much easily to sneak away from Clint than Wanda.

Click. Click. Click.

With every step you maneuvered down your heels were noisy. You’d managed to fling your sizable bag over your shoulder and just knew Steve was going to be annoyed with you. But he was an adult. Being adults meant the two of you would have to do things that you didn’t want.

“So help me, if it kills the both of us, you and I will be going out tonight and having a fun time! This is a celebratory weekend! There are festivities going on all over the city!” Wanda went on, yanking you along behind her upon reaching the bottom step and heading in the general direction of the ground floor exits.

Hurrying along behind her, you followed but you weren’t happy about it.

God did you have so much work to do and you really really wanted to spend the night with Steve. And maybe if you gave in to Wanda, she’d get off your ass about your fake boyfriend? Wait, no, your secret boyfriend, because Steve was very real, you just didn’t want to be eviscerated all over the internet and tabloids for dating a king.

You’d seen what happened when a pretty actress had dated then married a prince who didn’t rule his country. The only thing you had going for you was Steve’s country was still looked at with some serious side-eye from the world, due to past events and rulers. Plus, he wasn’t a young prince that had grown up before the eyes of the world. He was a son of a tyrant, a citizen of a sizable nation the world still viewed suspiciously with a questionable human rights record.

“You’re going to love the club! It’s totally new and they open at ten. Meaning we can have plenty of time with the girls!”

Girls?

As in plural?

Because of course this would be a group event. Wanda never half-assed anything.

“Wanda…” you began.

Before Wanda could turn her attention on you, loud shrill lady screams came and you were greeted to the sight of Maria, Okoye and Pepper. All three threw up their arms and grabbed Wanda in a big hug, yanking her away from you and freeing you from her grip.

Loud girl screeches followed.

There was group hopping and hugs and laughter.

It should have made you realize that it’d been so long since you had a fun girls night. It should have reminded you that you were young and your life shouldn’t be all about work and sneaking off with your boyfriend whenever the two of you were able to.

Your heart should have been warmed by the sight of your palace coworkers who were clearly part of the aforementioned Girls.

How long had it been since you had fun?

How long had it been since you’d had a night out on the town?

What were you doing?

Were you jumping and screeching and hugging too?

No.

You were digging into your handbag so you could text Steve real quick. To let him know about your change in plans before he began to think you’d bailed because you were a coward and got cold feet.

Just as your fingers touched the smooth surface of your iPhone…

A noise caught your attention.

Movement.

Peering up to the side at the wall, or what you’d assumed was a hallway wall since you were in another hallway nearly identical to the one upstairs. All while the hugfest continued. You noticed that the wall was at a weird angle. As if it were opening up on a hinge and by the time you realized that the wall was actually an opening to a hidden passageway, a hand grabbed your elbow and yanked you in.

No more than a soft squeak came from you.

In you tumbled.

Into a dimly lit hallway that was actually a passageway you found yourself. With a metal sounding click the wall slid back into place and a big hand fell over your mouth. Making you immediately panic, immediately reach up to grab the hand that was silencing you. Making an arm band around your chest and pull you flush back against a broad muscular body.

“Did you honestly think for one moment that I would allow you to go get drunk with Wanda? Or go to a club with a man that she met for you on Tinder?”

Steve.

It was Steve.

His faint aftershave still burnt your nose but paired with the masculine scent that was him, you relaxed only a little bit, just a smidge.

How the hell did he know all of that? Had he bugged your office? Was he following you?

Deep in your chest your heart pounded wildly. Your skin was on fire. Even though it was dimly lit, you swore you could see each nail and groove in the wooden walls of the hidden passage.

Steve’s shoes were soft on the carpeted floor. Yours however never reached. Your legs dangled. Desperately you stretched out to try and reach your toes down, but alas, Steve was holding you up and was simply that much taller than you. Easily holding you up as he carried you.

His voice an angry snarl, a seething whisp against your ear. “That is so disappointing my love. A failure on both our parts,” came his angry voice. Walking with sure footing and a quick pace through the only barely lit halls.

Turning here and there, quickly and suddenly, until you were very much lost.

A protest came from behind his palm that was crushed against your mouth. Your blood heating with every passing second till it felt as if it were boiling. All that sudden fear was turning into anger at this treatment.

“I’ve clearly failed you if you’re unable to announce with nothing but the utmost certainty that you’re both in a relationship and have no desire to go out clubbing with whomever Clint from Tinder is.” The word clubbing was spat out, as if Steve found it vile on his tongue. “As for you? Yesterday we were discussing where to go for your birthday and today, you refused to answer one of my calls! You have work to do tonight to make up to me your behavior today!”

Further down the hidden passageway you were unceremoniously carried pulled to his front. Your brain racing at warp speed.

You had work to do? You had to make up for your behavior?

Had he lost his damn mind?

Had he not seen the video of his naked nether-regions all over the internet? Or the sex that made the footage a sex tape? The two of you were now amateur porn stars and he was mad that you? Because you were trying to be lowkey until the entire situation blew over? Steve was mad because you were being reasonable?

A most valiant attempt was made to free yourself.

You struggled. You kicked. You flailed and shrilled behind the hand over your mouth. No longer taken by surprise or frightened. Now you were growing angry.

On top of being terrified of being found out in that footage and ridiculed by the world, or worse, chased out of this country by a horde of angry people who didn’t agree with you being the kings choice as not only a foreigner, but one from pretty humble roots. You were upset that the world saw such an intimate moment between the two of you and even if Steve didn’t care that his junk was all over the internet, you cared. You cared a great deal. The royal junk was your junk. It was bad enough you had to know he’d dated women before you who’d seen him nude and were intimate with him, but now the world? It was simply too much for you to comprehend.

Steve slowed and turned, using his elbow he made something pop and a slight crack of light where there was obviously another hidden door in the wall appeared.

Using his broad shoulder, Steve pushed the door open and stepped out into a hallway that led down to the royal chambers and split off.

With his knee, he shoved the hidden panel shut and tightening his grip on you, Steve hurried down that hallway.

A completely different one from where the administrative offices were located.

Rich wooden paneling covered the walls. Making everything appear warmer, lusher. An amber haze hung in the air.

Thick carpet was underfoot. Furniture spoke to its age but had been made with a quality that endured. Like this palace. Built when his land was called something else but had stood through time in proof of his claim to the throne.

Generations before him had ruled, claimed spouses and lovers in these halls, grown old and made history and now it was his turn.

Merely that knowledge had him growing excited in his slacks for a second time that day. All of your thrashing and struggling didn’t help. If anything, it sparked a part of his brain that insisted he ravish and conquer you in his royal bed.

Mouth pressed to your ear, till he felt amber and diamonds press against his lips. “I swear, I will spend the rest of tonight inside of you until things are as they were yesterday. Until you remember that when I speak to you in any manner, you answer. Considering how thoroughly you’ve consumed every last part of me, it is only fair.”

And then, in his slowed pace down the hall ever closer to the door that would lead into Steve’s Royal Apartment, he saw a portrait up on the wall that made him pause.

It was him.

Or his portrait from when he’d turned thirty.

There he stood looking down at you both. Dressed ceremonially in his crown, holding the traditional ruling scepter and wearing the robes from kings of past. Fur, jeweled toned fabric that he’d easily filled out with gold adornments, amber buttons and pipping on his shoulders.

What was most striking about this portrait compared to all the others of Steven throughout the palace, was he was alone in it and unlike all the others, at the time, he’d not been single.

Further making that internal fire burn hotter.

Making him stop and force you to look up at it with him. Framed in a gilded bronze heirloom. Up where he had to look at it to be reminded of what could have been.

“Look! Look!”

You stopped struggling and looked, were well aware of his mouth against your hair.

“See? See it? You could have been there with me. At my side. Wearing my crown. Wearing the robes and jewels of my grandmothers. My queen.”

And indeed you saw.

When you’d seen the finished portrait, you had been blown away at how your body reacted to the sight of your lover in his traditional uniform he only pulled out for big special events. How powerful he looked. How sexy he was wearing a crown, holding a golden scepter with an eagle on the end clutching a piece of amber the size of an egg.

The arm around your chest fell so he could point at the empty space in the picture beside him. “Look. Right there. That is where you would have been. Right there. At my side.”

His hand over your mouth still held you flush against him. Pulled tight against him.

That thought, that entire notion of you painted on a portrait, up there with Steve at his side. It was so surreal to you.

When it was just you and Steve it was fire and gold and everything was amazing. When it was King Steve and his Chief of Staff it was stimulating and exciting. You still weren’t sure about being queen. A queen! That wasn’t like being a princess or a duchess. A queen was different. Even the word felt different.

It made your heart start to pound wildly in your chest again. It made you breathe hard against the back of his hand. It made you have a physiological reaction.

***

This was not how Carol intended to spend her night.

It was not how she wished to start her off-time. Having given Val the update on all things that had transpired for the day as she handed off command of the Royal Guard to her fellow captain.

No sooner had she told Val everything, did one of the messengers from communications come hurrying in. A slip of paper in her hand. A note that changed everything for that night, that week and even that month.

It had left Carol walking through the royal apartments towards the Queen Mother’s rooms.

As she knew exactly what King Steven was doing and quite frankly, she wanted no part in disturbing that unless she absolutely had to.

Besides. The message that had been sent to the palace via royal envoy was meant for Her Majesty. It was best Her Majesty the Queen Mother figured out how best to deal with this coming…situation.

Compared to His Majesty’s Private Rooms, Sarah’s were all light and brightness. White marble and ornate touches. Colorful priceless paintings and large bouquets of fresh flowers in crystal vases. Soft plush furniture held little personal touches. A white chenille throw draped over her couch by a fireplace. Pink slippers sat on the floor. Books both new and ancient with various markers holding her place were scattered about. Fresh flowers. She loved fresh flowers. They were everywhere.

As expected, the door to the Queen Mother’s apartments were open.

Carol still paused outside of it to knock gently.

“Your Majesty?” She called out, looking at her watch to see that it was nearing seven. Around seven was when the queen took her dinner meal privately. Of course she’d leave the door open for kitchen staff to bring up food as usual. It wasn’t one of the nights that was reserved for Steve and his mother to have their dinners together.

After the death of her husband the former king, Sarah had effectively thrown open all the doors that he had imprisoned her with.

Her soft voice drifted out.

Delicate and gentle.

The Queen Mother sat in a large chair by a big window overlooking the city. Her pale hair pulled back at the nape of her neck. A string of pearls tightened and loosened around her fingers as she lowered the book she’d been reading. A pleasant smile came over her soft features.

Upon seeing the stone of Carol’s face, the queen frowned. “What is it? What is wrong?”

Only confirming that something was wrong, Carol shut the door and locked it.

Dinner had been brought up. Smells emanated from the queens private dining room off to the left. It reminded Carol that she hadn’t eaten since breakfast that morning. It had been that kind of a day.

Clasping her hands before her, she rocked back on her heels. “A message was sent by Her Highness Janet Van Dyne. She and her daughter will be at the palace tomorrow…”

Janet and Hope Van Dyne?

Steven’s former fiancée and her mother?

Two golden eyebrows rose, making Carol press on. “Her Highness is under the impression that they’ll be staying here? In the palace?”

All of this was new to Sarah.

She had not heard from Janet since Steve’s coronation. When she and her husband had been in attendance. Earlier that particular year, Hope had broken her engagement with Steven to run away with a Maharaja.

It’d been all over the tabloids.

A young princess of the Netherlands had broken her engagement to the crown prince of an incredibly traditional nation to follow her heart. Hope had spent many years splashed across tabloids and blogs with a handsome charismatic Asian Prince. She’d lost her royal title and gave tell-all interviews about how her family had forbade her from running away and how she’d never marry a man from infamous Rogers Royal Line. And then, oddly, she was back home with her family this year.

Sarah had found it unusual. Alas, she was a busy woman with a life of her own to keep her busy.

“Was anything else in the message,” Sarah wanted to know.

Carol shook her head.

It had been a simple message that was very to the point.

Sighing in a most un-Sarah-like sort of way. She set her book down on the arm of her chair and rose. Tall. Willowy. Pursing her lips. Her dress fell around her in a gauzy cloud.

“Do you want me to tell His Majesty?”

Pausing, the older women considered the question. Dare she tell her son? He deserved to know. Nothing good would come from this visit.

If it were Janet alone? Sarah would not be so suspicious. But Janet and Hope? And that they would come so last minute? After the release of this video footage from the royal sauna?

“Is my son with her?”

Silence.

Carol was quiet.

A noise came from the Queen Mother. A clicking of her tongue. Stepping into her slippers, she pulled the hem of her dress up. “I suppose I should not be surprised that you would keep this from me.”

More quiet came.

“I won’t ask. I’ll find out my own way and leave him be for now. Janet and Hope won’t be here tonight. This can be a problem for tomorrow, today has been difficult enough for us all. Let tomorrow be tomorrow.”

Let tomorrow be tomorrow.

On her other hand was her wedding band. A treasure itself. Now on the widow’s finger. It was so symbolic of the cage she’d lived in for the duration of her marriage.

Absentmindedly, she twisted the rings. “Have you eaten yet?” Pulling them up and down her hand. “I had hoped you would come. I had the kitchen bring up extra.” Off slipped the rings that she had to wear in public. In her hand they jingled until she set them down on a smoothly polished table.

With two heavy clicks, they bounced on the wood by a vase full of peonies. Freeing her for the time being.

“I missed you while you were away.”

A blush bloomed over her porcelain complexion at Carol’s words.

As she watched Carol lock the door to her chambers, a warmth bloomed within her chest. Such words were so simple. So honest. They were words she had not heard before in her life. In this new chapter however, in this new time in her life, she had become accustomed to kind words and compassion.

“I missed you as well.” She confessed, stepping closer and still keeping space between them. As some habits died hard. “Stay with me? Tonight?”

“There is nothing I want more, Sarah.”

***

As it turned out, now you were ready to talk.

However.

Unfortunately.

Steve was now past that point and was on a whole other page.

You found yourself protesting when he carried you into his bedroom like some manner of caveman would carry a slab of meat. Shrilling out when he yanked and ripped and tore at your dress, forcing it over your head after ripping fabric and popping buttons, till it was an unsalvageable heap of material and threads.

Which was an absolute tragedy.

You loved that dress.

You even pointed out that fact to him somewhere between the threshold of his bedroom and his massive bed that really was fit for a king.

It was so big!

A headboard wider than Wanda’s itty-bitty car was long. An elaborate collection of regal flourishes and shapes. Dark sheets so soft they were slippery awaited you as you screeched and hollered, letting out an outraged sound when your bra was popped then yanked roughly from you.

“Steven!” You admonished your king, toes digging deep into the thick carpet as you’d lost your shoes back in the hallway leading to his quarters.

This whole evening was going off the rails for you. There was no other way to put it.

Dim sconces on the wall lit the way. Highly effective mood lighting if you ever saw it. Allowing you to see the set in Steve’s face, the firm line of his mouth.

His fingers wrapped around the back of your neck so he could hold you close, ground out for your benefit. “All day long I tried. Calls. Messages. Texts. Did you want to talk? No. You ignored me. Now I do not wish to talk either.”

Pushing you forward, you found yourself stumbling but knew if you didn’t walk on your own, Steve would merely toss you up on his bed. Up on the sea of pillows. Framed by gilded silver and dark curtains that came down from above to allow for privacy.

“All day long you denied me. I’ll remind you what is mine until you’re thinking clearly again. Until we’re back where we were yesterday!”

“I’m ready to talk now! I’m in a place where I can discuss this with you! I am thinking clearly!”

Words were not needed.

Oh no.

Not when the king grabbed your hand, pulled your arm back and pressed your palm against his straining erection. Hot to the touch. Shockingly hard. Painfully so even you were willing to bet.

Your knees hit the bed and you were pushed forward till you fell over, till you wound up on the expanse of bedding in a tangle of hands and knees and that silky smooth material.

A big explosion came from Steve. Feeling like and you were flailing on your stomach, trapped beneath his oppressive weight and the bed. Fighting. Wiggling. Trying to get free from beneath him but bigger stronger arms had your wrists.

Something was being wrapped around your wrists that you couldn’t see, as your vision was impeded by the broad chest in your face. Right there. Blocking your line of sight. Pinning you down to the sea of grey until finally, finally, he was up and you were once more struggling, wiggling, jerking and finding that you were tied to the headboard.

You were tied to the headboard. You were naked and bound to his bed.

Silky fabric that was Steve’s tie bound your wrists snugly together and wove into the headboard, securing you there most soundly.

It was outrageous! It was absurd!

You were tied to his headboard!

It was a first for you.

When your gaze returned to your boyfriend and even that was now a bit questionable, you were greeted to the sight of Steve shedding his suit. Yanking off each garment without pause or care. A few tears were heard and he was far rougher than need be. A button or two may have flown off.

“You cannot be serious! That’s your plan? You’re going to take what’s yours? Are you serious? This is not the dark ages!”

Ignoring you, Steve shoved his slacks down his long legs. Allowing his rigid cock to bob obscenely. Causing an eyeroll to immediately come from you. A hint of something dark on his hip caught your eye. But it was only a flash and as he was moving, yanking off his suit jacket and fiercely ripping open buttons on his shirt, you couldn’t get a good look.

Was it a bruise? A tattoo?

Somehow you doubted kings were even allowed to have tattoos. Or that Steve even had the time to get himself permanently inked. When the hell did he get that bruise?

Momentarily distracted by him climbing up on the bed, you looked up to give your bindings a good hard yank.

No luck.

Steve’s weight was pushing you down. Shoving you into the bed. Pinning you down as you protested, implored and began to plea. Which was exactly what he wanted. After everything you had put him through today? You would beg. You would plead. You would forget all about that video.

“Open your mouth.”

It was an order.

It could be nothing less.

An absolute command that had your lips slowly parting as your eyes widened in surprise at the sudden treatment, this roughness. Steve held his painful erection in hand and pushed his tip to your lips. Pushed the red end of his cock sticky with precum past your lips. Till you were forced to open your mouth wider and wider for him. To take him deeper and deeper into your mouth.

Steve held your gaze and pushed his member in further. Straddling your chest and gripping his headboard in one hand, till it dug into his fingers. While his other hand grabbed your face to hold it tight.

You’d never be able to take all of him. He knew this. You’d never been able to no matter how much you’d tried. But he wanted to see how much he could fit in your mouth tonight.

“Don’t swallow. Don’t let me down again.”

Your mouth was so warm closing around him. Wet. Sacred. It made him want to close his eyes to sink in deep but Steve would not. He would do that soon enough. He would lose himself in your cunt soon enough.

A few small movements from his hips sank his cock deeper into your mouth. Filling your cheeks as you struggled. Until you found a motion of moving up and down his length, running your tongue along his sides. Wetting up his shaft till sloppy noises started to fill his ears and a small little dribble began to moisten the corners of your mouth.

Those blue eyes remained set on your own. Never once showing you mercy.

“Tomorrow. In the future. If I call or text, you will answer.”

There was no follow-up. Nor was it a question.

Long fingers that belonged on an artist or musician sank into your hair tightly.

All you could do was nod as drool rolled down your chin and you suckled his cock like you would a popsicle, without swallowing, sucking on his sensitive flesh as he liked and without the aid of your own hands to steady his member.

It was glorious and Steve could only slightly appreciate it. As the words that fell from his mouth were more important, more vital.

Feeling how wet your mouth was getting was fantastic. Absolutely. Your nimble tongue was a gift. No one had ever sucked his cock like you.

However…he was still frustrated, still angry, still hurt even.

He’d not worked his way through those feelings as of yet.

Perhaps? In your body?

Those feelings teased and taunted him with his unworthiness. Of how you hadn’t been firmer with your roommate. How you had allowed her to drag you down the stairs for a night out with possibly another man? It infuriated him. It sent his hips rocking into your mouth. It had his cock rubbing up along the back of your throat and made your eyes water.

No.

Steve would not lose you. He loved you too much to even entertain such a notion. No. Infact, he would make sure that he ruined you. By the end of the night, he would make certain that you’d never even amused the notion of being set up. He would be completely sure that when you left his chambers come morning, you would never be doubted when you told Wanda or anyone that you had a partner.

“I want to start publicly courting you. I want to be engaged this year. I do not want to hide any longer. When people look at you, I want them to know that you belong to me.”

Noises came around his cock that Steve knew were words and he did not care.

“Look at yourself.” Steve stilled, his words harsh, bitter even. “You have my cock in your mouth and I am completely at your mercy. Tied to the bed of kings because I cannot go one night without dreaming of you, fantasizing about your tight cunt and smooth skin. I would give you the world and all you want is nothing. You are the worst type of infuriating.”

As if to prove his point, he steadily pumped his pelvis up into your mouth. Each slide in pushed saliva and pre-ejaculate out, making it ooze from the seal of your lips around his erection. Against your throat his wet balls bounced. His ass rested on your chest and he could not get enough. More. He wanted more. He needed more. Craved more.

The urge to go harder was strong.

Steve wanted so badly to fuck you. To make you feel how much you drove him mad. How you caused him physical pain from longing alone.

With drool smeared down your chin and neck, never looking more beautiful in his opinion, Steve pulled his dick out. Done with your mouth for now. Needing more. Needing to grab your tits and to be closer to your face, looking closer into your eyes.

In a familiar sort of way, your throat bobbed.

“Did you just swallow when I specifically told you not to?”

A moment of hesitation followed from you that had Steve gripping your face, easing his body down yours but holding your slippery chin tight in his grip. Your eyes were wide. Again, probably without even realizing, you swallowed in nervousness.

“I’m…I’m sorry…”

“I’m sorry what,” he demanded, leaning down closer, licking the wetness from your chin and earning from you a most satisfying shiver that wracked your body.

“S-s-sorry, Your Majesty.”

His tongue was hot and wet on your chin. His body was heavy and hot on your own. Skin on skin contact made your brain short circuit. It was a miracle you could string those syllables together. With your hands bound so snugly to the bed. All you could do was take it. Take what he gave you.

Feeling him push your thighs open and position himself between your hips made you gasp. Words failed you.

And then words didn’t even matter because he was pushing into you. Claiming you. Taking what was his because you did belong to him. You belonged to him in every possible way.

A scream exploded out of you when he dove right in. Sank in till his crown was pressed up against the wall of your cervix. Deeper than anyone had ever been before. Hands were grabbing your ankles and spreading you wide. Spearing you on his cock. Stretching your body taut.

“So wet. You were made to take me. Made to take your king.” He whispered more to himself even though you heard. You would have heard a pin drop. You could hear your heart pound and blood rush through your ears, each gasp your lungs took. You could feel every last inch of him deep inside your core. Painfully stretching you open like this. Burning. Tingling. Twisting.

Hands tightened on your ankles till you looked up at Steve. Hovering over you like a pillaging warlord about to ravish his prize.

“You have till Monday to decide how you wish us to become public. I will not wait a day longer.”

Seeing you like this before him. Splayed out. Your pussy curled around his member, plump from being filled with your breasts round puddles up on your chest. It set his hips into a frenzy. Powerful thrusts were sent into your tight walls that made Steve grunt every time from the power behind his motions, from the sight of his cock vanishing up into you. Watching your pussy take him so hungrily as you cried out beneath him each time. Breasts swaying. Skin slapping on skin with the contact. Your hips jiggled, his headboard creaked, his balls slapped soundly against you both.

“Say it. Say the words to me. Say them!” Steve commanded you. Pieces of his hair falling and sticking to his sweaty forehead as he sank in to the very depths of you then pulled out, revealing a glistening shaft before slamming his member right back in where it belonged.

“Yes…yes…yes…yes…” you chanted, over and over, again and again with every thrust in, every withdraw that was like heaven and hell, your body needing him to complete this circuit only the two of you could create. “…yes…yes…my king…yes my king…”

Those words. They were a song to his ears and had your ankles slapped together. Those words had the backs of your thighs slapped wetly against his chest, your feet touching his shoulder as Steve continued to pound into you.

Pumping into your now closed thighs, into your tighter walls at this angle.

“Look!”

Dimly your eyes fluttered, you looked into his burning blue eyes.

“Look. Here.”

You followed his gaze to where he pointed, looking down at his pelvis, where his hip met his abdomen in that hard cut of muscle that was visible above his beltline. The one you loved to lick.

He did have a tattoo.

It took you a second to realize what you were looking at and focus, as his thrusts continued without mercy, pounding away, slamming into you without mercy. Shaking and pushing you into his bed.

Your writing was inked into his skin. Your very own signature.

Your name was forever scrawled into Steve’s skin and then, it hit you. Your climax took you by complete surprise. Your entire body went stiff. A pained noise came from you and you shattered all around his cock. Fingernails dug into your palm and you stared at your name in cruel ecstasy.

Steve fell too. You could tell from his thrusts getting wild, falling out of sync. You could tell because he swore out, clenched his face and held your thighs tight to his chest.

Pumping deeply into you while your body milked him for everything he had to give.

Making him merely a man in that moment with you.

Up on his headboard, you were tightly secured and would soon have bruises from arching up against the silk tie restraining you. Unable to do anything but feel and accept what your king was giving you. On your back. In a bed that past kings had slept in.

None of which was lost on you.

Not as your body felt leaden, filled with molten hot lava. Limp. Your secret garden continued to suck him in, clench around him and spasm, making your eyes roll up in your head, your body dig into his bed and words fall from your mouth.

In a most dignified sort of manner, your king humped into your body like a jack rabbit, chasing the last vestiges of his climax with coral wet lips and dark honey hair now damp with sweat.

A sight for your satiated eyes.

“Let me call my mother in the morning.” You breathed out slowly, as if figuring out how your lungs worked once more after a marathon. Your words making Steve still above you. Though your cunt did not. It twitched around his royal girth and you met his gaze from on his pillows. “Tomorrow you can have Maria release a statement saying whatever you want. Just let me tell my parents myself. They should hear from me that I’m not coming home.”

Whatever wind that may have held up his sails had clearly been withdrawn.

Almost tenderly now, Steve leaned forward to quickly loosen the silk around your wrists and free your hands from his headboard. Stretching out his long powerful body above you. Flushed red now. Glistening. Though he left his tie there. He remained inside of you too. Filling you and stretching you full.

Gently, he pushed your legs down until they wrapped around him and he was able to rest his weight most carefully on top of you. Pressing wet kisses to your nose, your cheeks and chin. Worshipping your face with delicate touches and caresses.

“I’ll fly them out here whenever you want. When we get back from Switzerland, I’ll have them waiting for you.”

Softly you answered, reveling in his softness now that your body had been given her reward, her treat, her pleasure from his roughness. Smelling the musk of his sweat and feeling the wet glide between your bodies.

Leisurely, your hands found their way up his muscular arms to his shoulders. “You know what I mean. I won’t ever be their daughter again. I won’t ever be Wanda’s roommate. I’ll have to quit my job. Nothing will ever be the same.”

Those words, well, they settled uncomfortably in him.

All of them were true.

You would be giving up so much. He would have to make sure to take care of you even more so, keep a closer eye on you. He would need to have a talk with his mother come morning.

“That’s true,” Steve softly conceded, rubbing his nose along your own. Barely grazing his lips over yours. A hint of a tongue touched you before his breath danced over your mouth. “We would be together though. Finally together. You. Me. Not hiding anymore.”

Speaking of hiding.

That word alone had you pulling away from his mouth to lean to the side, to get a look down at his Adonis belt. At the alluring groove that led down to his pubes where your name was now in black.

Nay, your signature.

As if sensing what you were after, your boyfriend tilted up a smidge. Enough for you to see but not enough for him to leave your body. Pray tell that couldn’t happen.

“When did you do this?”

“Do you like it,” Steve asked, as if your opinion mattered. Which was laughable considering how permanent it was.

He’d literally took your signature and had it tattooed on his body.

“Of course I love it. Now you have a part of me on you all the time.” An incredibly modern take on Steve’s royal jewel gift thing, but in reverse you thought. Then grinned as it sank in. “I can’t believe you did it though.��

Why wouldn’t he have done it?

Steve hadn’t thought twice when Maria had gone on about getting her late mother’s writing tattooed on her side, in a lasting forever tribute. Having your writing on him at all times had been an idea that hadn’t left him. Not until he’d had a tattoo artist praised for their work brought to the palace late the other night.

He wasn’t even going to lie, king or not, there was something downright satisfying about having something like this hidden on his body from all. Known only by you and him. A secret only for you two.

Bringing him right back to the thought that the biggest secret the two of you shared would soon be out.

Soon it would be public knowledge and that had Steve brushing his fingertips over your cheeks, kissing the swell of your cheekbone and moving ever just so to make a small moan come from you. “You’ll never regret this. I’ll love you for the rest of my life. I’ll devote myself to making you happy. You’ll never regret becoming my queen.”

[multifandomimagines]

Let Me Show You - A Theo Raeken Imagine

Characters: Theo Raeken x Reader

Word Count: 3469

Summary: Reader is feeling stressed and insecure, so Theo wants to be there for her and make her feel perfect.

Warnings: Smut (female-receiving oral and vaginal), insecurity, mentions of IED

Written by: Josie

A/N: Keep reading after the cut 👀

Disclaimer: GIF isn’t ours - credit to who it belongs to

Y/N sighed as the puffy red eyes of her reflection stared back at her through the mirror. This week had been… different. Every little thing had been going wrong, and each day brought more and more emotion, stress and insecurity. Her under-eyes were dark with exhaustion and her smile wasn’t as bright as it usually was - that is, when it showed itself anyway.

She didn’t even hear when her bedroom door opened and closed softly, didn’t register the light footsteps across her carpet moving toward her; not until the eyes of her boyfriend met hers in the mirror, round with concern. Seeing him so suddenly would usually have elicited a wide grin from Y/N, and she would jump into his arms, wrapping her legs around his waist. Yet, in the state she was in, his arrival made her feel as if she could finally let it all out. Her emotions overwhelmed her like a tidal wave, and her eyes prickled with tears.

“Theo,” she whispered, her voice cracking, and hurriedly turned around to bury her head in his neck. Almost like a reflex, Theo held her tightly to his chest as she cried, his hand rubbing up and down her trembling back. He slowly walked them backward until his legs hit the edge of her bed, and pulled her shaking body onto his lap.

“Shh, baby,” Theo hushed her sobs tenderly. “It’s okay.” Her head had made its way back to his neck, Y/N couldn’t even look up at him. He wouldn’t show it, because he had to be strong for her, but seeing his girl like this broke him to pieces inside. She was the only person who saw the good in him when everyone else tossed him aside as either a failure or a villain. Either way, he was a lost cause in the eyes of most people. Everyone really… well, everyone except her. Out of all of the people Theo had met in his life, he knew Y/N deserved to be happy more than anyone. She deserved to be cared for, celebrated, loved. As someone who dragged him out of his darkest places, Theo wanted nothing more than to help her out of hers.

Y/N sniffled, and slowly lifted her head from Theo’s shoulder, her eyes staring downward and avoiding the gaze of her boyfriend. She knew it hurt him to see her like this and she wished she could just… stop.

“Hey,” she heard him say. “Look at me Y/N.” His voice was rich with worry for the girl he loved, and she flinched at the thought of causing him grief. It was quick, but Theo saw it, and his heart snapped once again. Slowly, he raised his hand to her cheek, running his thumb along her cheekbone softly, collecting the tears that were slowly drying on her face. She subtly leaned into his touch without even realising she did it, it was like her body moved off it’s own accord, drawn to him. Gently, Theo moved his hand to Y/N’s chin and turned her head to face him.

For the first time since he’d arrived, Y/N finally let Theo see the pain in her eyes. They were glossy and slightly bloodshot, and Theo’s gaze softened at the sight of her vulnerability. “What’s wrong?” He asked a simply question, not wanting to overwhelm her.

“Everything,” she breathed. Theo’s fingers ran themselves through her hair, encouraging her to keep going. Initially she wanted to shrug him off and succumb to her feelings again, but she let him comfort her. “I’m just feeling everything all at once. Theo, I can’t-“

“It’s okay baby, it’s okay,” He held her cheeks delicately, scared to break her fragile form. “Breathe with me.”

It was something Theo had learned over the months. Sometimes Y/N really needed to calm down and just breathe slowly, in and out, exhaling the intensity of her feelings as much as her brain would allow. Though she hadn’t admitted it, Y/N realised that the method worked better when Theo led her through it.

After a minute or so of long, deep breaths, Y/N was no longer jolting with the ghosts of sobs from earlier. Theo continued to hold her close, remaining gentle but tight enough to always remind her that he was there for her. No matter what.

“This week has been so bad,” She began, and Theo stayed silent, realising that she was finally feeling comfortable enough to talk. He felt a small surge of pride flow through him at this, knowing that it was hard for her at times. “I’m stressed. I still have so much work to do, and deadlines are creeping up on me like a freakin’ predator. I’m worried for my brother, he’s struggling with his IED and he’s even been taking his meds, but they keep needing to up the dose and it kills me to see him in the state he gets. I keep screwing up too, like earlier I kept stalling the car, and I broke a photo frame yesterday morning, and I forgot to submit an assignment for grading at the beginning of the week. And I can’t sleep at night… Theo, I’m so tired.”

“Hey, come here,” Theo whispered, pulling her into another hug. “Okay, first of all, you are so smart and every time you get stressed about an assessment, you always go and smash it, don’t you?”

A smile threatened to pull at her lips at his confidence in her, and she nodded.

“Right,” Theo grinned. “Next thing, Liam is resilient, just like you. He won’t let one little setback get him down, and his meds will be sorted before you know it. Plus, he’s lucky to have you as a sister, you know that? You’re always there for him, everyone sees it.”

Y/N shifted on Theo’s lap, looking into his eyes as he spoke. “And,” He continued. “Everyone has weeks where they feel like they mess everything up, even super cool badasses like me.” Y/N giggled, spurring Theo on. “Someone as perfect as you doesn’t need to worry about a few little mistakes. They’re nothing, okay? Not important.” His hand moved soothingly up and down her arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake. “Is that everything?”

“Um, yeah…” Y/N trailed off quietly, suddenly avoiding her boyfriend’s eyes and sinking into herself. Theo knew her so well at this point that not a single subtle movement would go unnoticed, so he raised his eyebrows at her response. He knew she was holding back, and she knew that he knew. Sighing, Y/N gave in a little. “It’s stupid.”

“What have I always told you?” He said, smiling at her. “You can tell me anything. Anything at all. I’ll be there for you no matter what. You know that, don’t you?”

Y/N nodded and breathed in, slightly shakily. “I feel ugly, Theo.”

“What?” Theo whispered in disbelief, his eyes the size of saucers. He didn’t know what he’d expected, but it wasn’t that. “Baby-“

“I told you it was stupid-“

“No, it’s not that, it’s just-“ Theo searched for the words in his brain. He never thought he’d have to convince the most beautiful girl in the world that that’s what she was. He thought it was just common knowledge, really. “You and ‘ugly’ would never even fit in the same category. Not even in the same universe.”

“That’s just not true though,” Y/N stated, shaking her head, her eyes tired. “I can’t even look in the mirror at the moment. I feel like when I look, I’m not looking back at me. And it makes me cry. I’d rather not see myself at all than to look at that reflection.”

If Theo’s heart wasn’t broken before, the damage was definitely done now. Hearing Y/N, his girl, say that she wasn’t pretty, but ugly, made him feel all kinds of lost and confused, but more so sad, because he wished he could take away her pain and make it all disappear. Unfortunately, his powers of pain transference only worked on physical pain, and he silently cursed that fact.

“How can you not see what I see…” He whispered, almost more to himself than to her. “You know, the first time I saw you Y/N, even from a distance I knew I’d never see anyone as beautiful as you. And now I’m looking at you, months later, and I still think you’re just as stunning. You are gorgeous. You hear me? The most gorgeous ever.” Theo placed kisses on her nose, her cheeks, her forehead as he spoke, causing Y/N’s heart to flutter. His words stirred something in her, and the intensity of his eyes boring into hers made her forget about everything she was worried about. A wave of adoration for her boyfriend washed over her, and she cupped his cheeks delicately, a smile pulling at the corners of his lips.

Y/N didn’t have the words at that moment, all the emotion was caught in her throat, so she did what she felt conveyed her feelings best. She leaned forward and kissed him, Theo’s lips moving against hers immediately, as if by instinct. It was so soft, so pure, light as a feather. She pulled away from him all too soon, their eyes meeting each other once again, but Theo didn’t feel like stopping. “I want to show you how beautiful you really are,” He spoke lowly, holding her hand and giving a gentle squeeze. “Please baby. Let me show you.”

He didn’t have to explicitly say what he really meant by that for both of them to know, and his request sent warm shivers through her body. She spoke only one word: “Okay.”

Theo connected their lips again, harder this time. Even with just a kiss, he wanted to pour every ounce of love he had for her in it. He would make sure that he made her feel exactly how she deserves to feel. Her hands had moved to the back of his neck, plucking at the hairs on his head, while Theo held her as close as their bodies would allow.

His fingers slid up her t-shirt slightly, brushing the skin underneath. Theo’s fingers were so cold that Y/N gasped against his lips, so her boyfriend took the chance to slip his tongue into her mouth and explore. Slowly, he lifted her shirt up further and further until they were forced to pull away so Theo could tug it over her head and toss it on her bedroom floor.

Of course, Theo wanted to marvel her brilliance as best he could, so he gripped her by the waist and moved her carefully so she was laying flat on her bed, looking up at him. “So beautiful,” he murmured, and waisted no time in resuming their kiss. His hands travelled down her sides as their lips moved in sync like a perfectly choreographed dance, and his hips ground into hers - gently still, yet hard enough to give Y/N friction where she needed it the most.

He dragged his lips to her neck, sucking and biting on the skin to create dark marks to decorate her already perfect body. Theo considered it his finishing touch to her, as he knew she needed him as much as he needed her, which was what made them so perfect. Y/N’s hands roamed his back, one leg secured over his hip to keep him close, and Theo reached around to unclip her bra. His eyes widened - he would never get used to seeing her body like this, and she wasn’t even fully exposed to him yet.

“I love these so much,” He said, lowering his head to one breast and closing his mouth over her nipple, his tongue sliding across her sensitive skin. Y/N moaned as he simultaneously kneaded her other breast with his hand. “I love this one,” He said, moving away from the one he was playing with. “And I love this one.” Theo reattached his lips to her other breast, her rapidly increasing breaths spurring him on.

Y/N’s hips involuntarily bucked up at Theo’s, and he chuckled lightly against her skin at the movement. He trailed his lips back up to her collarbone, her neck, her jaw, all while dragging her leggings and her panties down her legs as far as he could. He pulled away from Y/N’s lips to crawl down the bed until he could completely reveal her entire body. Her leggings and panties discarded on the floor, Theo looked his girl in the eyes as he placed his hands on her thighs and lightly encouraged her legs apart.

Shivering with anticipation, Y/N watched her boyfriend wide-eyed as he licked one long stripe up her centre. Her eyelids fluttered, but she couldn’t bring herself to break the intense eye contact she held with Theo, until he began to flick his tongue against her clit. Her head fell back onto her pillow, arms flying down to grab onto Theo’s hair, feeling his head moving between her legs. She moaned as he licked and sucked at her clit, doing everything in his power to make her feel good, and it was music to his ears. He soon replaced his tongue with his fingers, rubbing her clit quickly, and started licking along her core, like it was his whole life’s purpose to do so.

“Fuck, Theo,” She whimpered, and Theo groaned against her at the sound of her saying his name in such a situation. Her voice held so much vulnerability yet so much excitement, so much feeling, so much love. The vibrations against her core sent waves of pleasure racing through her, and Theo watched through his eyelashes as her back arched off the bed.

Theo removed his mouth from her core, and her head whipped up briefly at the loss of contact, her eyes wide and pleading for something, anything. Barely moment after, Theo pushed two fingers inside her, pumping them at a quick pace. Y/N moaned louder, and Theo pulled himself up so his head was level with hers, staring directly into her eyes as his fingers worked their magic. “How good does this feel Princess?”

“So good,” Y/N breathed, barely being able to find it in herself to speak. She gripped onto his biceps as he continued his work between her legs, moaning with every thrust of his fingers. “It feels amazing.”

Theo smirked slightly, content that he was getting exactly the reaction from her that he set out to get, and leaned down to capture her lips with his once again. He added another finger and picked up the pace of his actions, his mouth drowning her voice as she cried out. He kissed her hard, drawing the breath out of her almost completely, and she could taste herself on his tongue which only brought her closer to the edge.

Feeling her walls clench around his fingers, Theo moved his lips around to her ear. “Are you gonna cum?” He said, his voice rough with his own arousal. He knew the answer, but he also knew that Y/N loved to hear his voice, and it somehow turned her on even more. All she could do at this point was nod frantically, her moans and whimpers making it impossible to get the words out. Theo sped up his actions even further, trying with everything he had to send her over the edge. “Cum for me baby.”

The words uttered into her ear sent her into ecstasy, and she let go screaming Theo’s name. He watched with his mouth hung open as her body pulsed and jolted as her orgasm washed over her in waves, her cries slowing into whimpers and her contorted face relaxing into one of sheer bliss.

A few moments later when Y/N had caught her breath, she reached down and palmed Theo’s bulge through his joggers, eyes widening when she realised how hard he already was. He groaned, dropping his head to her shoulder and tensing at her touch. “N- no, baby,” He stuttered out, voice rough from the feeling. Y/N was confused as he slowly moved her hand away, tilting her head to the side in a silent question. “Tonight is about you.”

Usually she would protest and say that they both need to be pleasured equally, but she wanted him so badly that she didn’t have it in her to argue. Frantically, she yanked his head down and smashed her lips against his, tongue and teeth clashing in desperation. All she wanted was him, and she didn’t want to wait any longer.

She pulled his shirt up his body, almost ripping the fabric with her speed, and he pulled away so she could pull it over his head. She loved to admire Theo’s toned chest and stomach, so she reached her hand down to feel up his abs. She tried to look, but Theo was adamant on her being the one who was worshipped, so he dipped his head and began sucking on her neck once again, causing her head to fall back and a moan to fall from her lips.

As he painted her neck with purple bruises, Y/N reached down and played with the waistband of his joggers, fiddling with the drawstrings. Theo felt her fingers brush him and growled against her neck, hurriedly standing up to yank them and his boxers to the ground, completely exposed before her.

Y/N whimpered at the sight of him, naked and ready for her, and he crawled back over her just as quickly as he’d stood up. Theo looked at her with dark eyes, wordlessly asking for permission to treat her to just what she deserved. “Please, Theo,” She whispered, and of course, Theo didn’t want to deny her anything she wanted, especially when she asked so nicely.

The two of them moaned in harmony, jaws dropped open, as Theo pushed himself inside her, easily sliding in due to her wetness. He moved all the way in until he felt like he was inside Y/N’s stomach, pausing there as they both breathed heavily from the sensation. “Feeling better?” Theo spoke thinly, smiling at his girlfriend’s expression of pure pleasure.

“Miles better,” She replied, thrusting her hips up at Theo, making it known that she wanted more. The chimera began to move, pushing in and out of her at an ever-increasing pace, making sure she felt every single inch of him to give her the best sex possible. Y/N hands roamed his back, nails scratching at it and breaking the skin as she moaned and cursed into his ear.

“Always so tight and wet for me,” Theo groaned, his hair falling messily over his forehead as he moved. “So perfect. Every inch of you is perfect.” He sped up his movements, making sure to hit the spot that gets her screaming, and grabbed at her breast with one hand and delicately stroking her cheek with the other. “I love you.”

Theo was going so deep and fast now, Y/N was so close. Her nails dug into his back as her release approached, unable to tear her eyes away from his as they glowed yellow from the adrenaline. “I love you too,” She spoke shakily, so nearly there, when Theo kissed her hard, knowing she was reaching her orgasm from her clenching walls.

“Now,” He spoke against her lips, and as soon as the word had left his lips, Y/N screamed out Theo’s name at the most euphoric feeling she had ever experienced, shaking and quivering around him. Moments later, as she was still feeling the high, she felt Theo slow his movements as he spilled into her, his own release washing through him like a tidal wave.

After coming down from their high, Theo flopped down next to her in bed, immediately pulling her close to rest her head on his chest, which was still rising and falling. He kissed her head lightly, stroking her hair affectionately, and then pulled the covers over their bodies. He knew Y/N was exhausted, not just from their activities but from her whole week. Her breathing had slowed and he realised she had already fallen into a relaxed slumber.

Theo smiled to himself - seeing his girl finally calm with no stress lines pulling at her face made his heart soar. He hated seeing her so upset, in fact it was his least favourite thing to see in the world, so he vowed to always be the one to lift her back up again.

Theo would always be there for her: rain or shine, any day, any time. And one day it’ll be ‘til death do them part. His smile lingered on his lips as he let his own eyelids closed and he joined her in her slumber, meeting her in her dream.