#breach that i suspect she had little to nothing to do with and that she shouldn't have been just throwing around even if she DID <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[drinkingdeadpeopletea]

i love that hieronymous said exactly two lines in that entire episode and one of them was stating the obvious and the other was a totally innocent-sounding statement that also managed to be a lie. he's the perfect character <3

[rey-jake-therapist]

Haladriel : power play

I keep reading that Sauron didn't stop manipulate Galadriel for all season 1, that she's a poor victim, that she was abused by the big bad guy, yada yada.... It's false. Lol sorry but for most of season 1, it was Galadriel who pulled all the strings and Sauron, though reluctant at the beginning because he wanted to stay in Numenor and take the path of repentance, was happy to play along. "She wants me to be a king ? Alright, I'll be her king. Let it be my GIFT to her." The Lord of gifts is back, baby !

This dynamic changed during the finals though. I find Haladriel fascinating because there's always one who tops and the other who sorry, one who leads and the other who follows. In season 1, it was clearly Galadriel who was the leader in their dynamic. Can't escape the sexual metaphor I'm afraid 🤣, she was basically the dom. She gave orders, antagonized everyone starting with him, manipulated both him and Miriel, lied, gained time...

And he just happily followed, basically, mostly amused by this little young Elf (yeah she was baby if you think of it, Sauron's ancient lol) who bossed everyone around and thought she knew everything. I don't think he expected her to use his own tricks on him, and he was pretty much upset first because she was tempting him into a path he didn't want to go back to (oh the irony of Sauron being tempted into doing something bad...), but I think he was also impressed. He had just told her a couple of hours before how to use people's greatest fears to control them, and here she was.... Just doing it. On him !! The temptation to give her a good spank while whispering congratulation words for being such a good listener must have been.... Very strong.

The dynamic started to change the day Galadriel suspected Halbrand was not who she thought he was. One thing I always wondered is : did Sauron hope that Celebrimbor would repeat these words, "power over flesh", in front of Galadriel, because he wanted to prepare her for the revelation he intended to make when the rings would be ready ?

Anyway, to me the dynamic changed at this very moment :

I wrote a meta dedicated to "Sauron, Galadriel and touching" here. At the risk of sounding like a pretentious person who loves to hear her own voice, I'll do something I never do, quote myself :

Now, back to Sauron. While during all season 1 he was never touchy with Galadriel, in episode 8, he suddenly is. Not only that but he's also very flirtatious, like... more than usual. Galadriel seems surprised with this unsolicited touching, and iffy, because she doesn't trust him anymore. She has just asked one of her fellow Elves to look in the catacombs of Eregion for everything they had about the Southlands and their royal lineage; after she heard Celebrimbor talk about "power over flesh" and seen Sauron enthusiastically offer his aid to the smith, she starts suspecting that Halbrand may be not who he claims to be. Coincidence ? I think not. Even if she remained discreet, Sauron probably felt that something was off. He's very observant, and he knows her mind. If she changed of attitude with him, if she seemed even a little bit wary of him, there's no doubt he noticed it. He certainly planned to tell her the truth about him very soon, at that point, but he also wants the rings to be forged so he could show her what they'd do with them. So this, imho, is Sauron buying time. He knows she's attracted to him, he may even know she's in love with him... I think he's trying to breach her defenses, here.

Like I said in my linked post, so far Sauron never touched Galadriel umprompted. It is a first. And he was flirtatious before, but the way he leans in to whisper in her ear... That's something else. It's Sauron turning the tables and taking control of their dynamic. After this scene, up until the fight, we only see Galadriel in a retreat position, literally sidelined while Sauron found himself a new playmate (Celebrimbor), and she can do nothing but observe what is happening; she can't reveal her doubts as long as she doesn't get the confirmation she asked for. Of course, she hates it.

Then the finals. Galadriel confronts Sauron, who not only doesn't deny anything, but makes fun of her previous claim that she's much older than he is, by revealing he's himself older than the world. Notice how their behavior has changed, compared to how they were during the previous episodes : he's the one being sure of himself and controlling the situation, while she's confused and has lost all her composure, as all her certainties fall into crumbles.

Then she tries to stab him, but he effortlessly parries her attack.

Then she loses consciousness as he takes literal control of her mind. Starting from here, and up until the one, he's the dom dominating the situation ! He masquerades as her brother to manipulate her feelings, then brings her back to the raft, appeals to her temptation for power, offers her the moon and more. Then when she refuses, he makes himself indispensable by reminding her that without him, her people are doomed, presses where it hurts ("they cast you out"), and appeals to her pride ("what will they do when you tell them that you were my ally ?").

NOW that's some manipulation. Only then, did we get a glimpse of the tactics he would use on Celebrimbor in season 2.

As for their dynamics in season 2 finals, do I really need to spell it out ?

Galadriel tries to reverse the dynamics when she kicks Sauron in the face and tells him "the door shut", but ultimate fails. Oh, wait, does she ?

Galadriel almost gives in to Sauron in this finals. I know it's a popular interpretation that she was totally faking it when she took off Nenya and handed it to him, but it simply doesn't make sense with the music and the atmosphere of this scene. And if the "new bond" theory is true, it makes it even more impossible because there's no way she could pretend anything while being newly bound to Sauron. She looks captivated and ready to give in because she is, imho. This is her "last temptation". And Sauron believes that as well, because he saw it in her mind. He believes he won her over, because he almost did, indeed.

He looks so happy, I could almost feel sorry for him... What Sauron wanted Galadriel to understand, was that he wanted to heal Middle-Earth, to let him do that by giving him Nenya. He looks so happy here because he believes he has achieved that, at last.

I think Galadriel is also convinced that he wants to heal Middle-Earth, but she can never approve his methods, so... She lets herself fall off the cliff to escape him and by doing so, reverses the dynamics and takes power again, even at the risk of losing her life in the process. Sacrificing yourself not to let your toxic ex win you over is the ultimate power move if you ask me.

I know there's a new popular theory that wants Nenya to be the one who made Galadriel snap out of it, but sorry, I strongly disagree with this idea. One, because it takes off Galadriel's agency : she was saved by Elrond, saved by Arondir, and now Nenya ? I can't deny it's a personal bias as I want Galadriel to save herself in this one, and I won't go and claim it as a fact.. but sorry, it's a no for me. I've been told about the "Nenya sound" playing during this scene. Well, precisely, this sound tells me exactly the opposite of this theory, because it is heard when Galadriel is handing Nenya to Sauron, and stops exactly when she snaps out of it to say "Heal yourself".

It seems to me that Nenya wanted to go to Sauron, and not the other way around. Sauron said, "the rings are mine". I thought for a while that he meant only the Nine, but no, he considers that all the rings, including the Elven ones, are his. He thinks of himself as "their master". But he also knows that Nenya picked Galadriel as her bearer (or was it him ?), so she's also Galadriel's ring. That's why he wants her to give Nenya to him, as a sign of submission to him. The way I see it, when he asked Galadriel to give him Nenya, he expected Nenya to push her in this direction, and I think that's what Nenya indeed did, hence the sound.

Except that Galadriel resisted. It left Sauron confused. Then he thought about the Dwarves rings, whose owners also refused to be controlled by him even though he had more input in the creation of their rings than he had in the Elven ones'. So he will forge the One Ring, that will allow him, he believes, to take such a tight control on his rings that their bearers will no longer be able to resist him. The Elves will realize that pretty fast and will reluctanctly take off their rings, for all the time that Sauron will wear the One Ring.

"But the Elves were not so lightly to be caught. As soon as Sauron set the One Ring upon his finger they were aware of him; and they knew him, and perceived that he would be master of them, and of all that they wrought. Then in anger and fear they took off their rings." [The Silmarillion].

Interesting fact : the One Ring never seeme to affect the Dwarves. Their rings made them more greedy than they already were, but forging the One Ring didn't allow Sauron to control them. It has been suggested that it could be because they weren't aware of its power/didn't understand it :

The Dwarves used their Seven Rings to establish their treasure hoards, but Sauron was unable to force the Dwarven bearers to submit. It is believed that the dwarves' natural hardiness, and the fact that it was only the more powerful dwarf lords who possessed them, made them resistant to Sauron's control, yet allowed them to accumulate treasure. The final ring to leave the possession of the dwarves occurred when Thráin II was captured. Source

If a Tolkien expert is in the room and can provide some context, it'd be very nice...

Funny how Galadriel's "I resisted" sounds delusional in retrospect. She really believes she did, doesn't she ? She believes that, because when Sauron offered her to be his queen (a fact which for *cough* some reasons *cough* she chose to hide from Elrond, Gil-Galad and of course, Adar himself...), she said 'no'.

The thing is, she indeed vocally resisted to the temptation of joining him, but everything she did afterwards showed Galadriel actually doing exactly what he wanted her to do.

I mean, who wanted rings ? Sauron. She knew that Sauron worked for Celebrimbor for weeks, knew he was the one who came up with the idea of a "power over flesh", knew it was his idea to tap into the unseen world, knew he had put his evil hands literally everywhere in the forge, including the mithril and her own dagger... And yet, she.... wait, she did exactly what Sauron disguised as Finrod told her to !

Sauron wanted these rings to be made, and she complied. To paraphrase Elrond, she gave him what he wanted and thanked him for that, I mean look at how happy she was to have a ring :

And if you're not convinced, there's the forewarning vision of Celebrimbor that Galadriel had in early S2, with Sauron calling her name and Celebrimbor asking her "are these not the seeds you planted ?", before being suffocated to death by roots looking like snakes :

There are no subtitles for what Celebrimbor said in black speech so here's the translation :

"Three Rings for the Elven-kings under the sky, Seven for the Dwarf-lords in their halls of stone, Nine for Mortal Men doomed to die"

This vision showed almost exactly what would happen: the rings that Sauron would forge, and Celebrimbor's death. Even the way he dies in the vision is identical to his actual death. Galadriel believes it's a warning sent by Nenya and that she has to go to Eregion to save Celebrimbor, but wasn't it another trick of Sauron, who as Elrond suggested, probably wanted her in Eregion ?

I was divided on this point until the finals really, where Sauron turned into Celebrimbor and repeated the exact same sentence she had heard in the vision: "Aren't they the seeds you planted ?".

How could Sauron know about that, if he wasn't the one who sent her the vision ? For the record, it wasn't a mind palace case like in season 1, where he invaded Galadriel's mind and used her memories of her brother. Halbrand's words, her own words, they all came from his memories. So in all logic, so did vision Celebrimbor's.

Sauron also wanted Galadriel not to reveal his identity : check.

Instead of telling Celebrimbor and Elrond the truth about Halbrand, she just inexplicably chose to keep her mouth shut, and left Eregion without informing Celebrimbor that the nice human he had worked with for weeks was actually Sauron, the Great Deceiver. She rather took the risk of letting Sauron come back in Eregion (I mean, telling Celebrimbor not to work with Halbrand again wasn't enough of a warning, be serious Gal !), than admit she had let a demon in his walls ; because of her pride, exactly as Sauron wanted. This bastard looked so smug about it when he realized she had done exactly what he expected her to :

If she had told Celebrimbor the truth, he would have never been allowed to even pass the door. This tolerance told him everything he needed to know.

But apart from that... She "resisted".

I'm very curious to see what will be the dynamics for season 3. Who will lead the dance this time ? My bet is on Galadriel.

[sea-owl]

Polin week day 1: Favorite Quote

So really, there was no urgent need to move up the wedding.

Except that he wanted to.

Colin's talk with the mama's through Portia's eyes. Set in the show verse.

"Damn!" Portia cursed as she read invitation sent to her to join Mr Colin Bridgerton and his mother Lady Bridgerton for tea. "I knew I should have encouraged Penelope to accept Lord Debling's offer. That foolish boy is going to break her heart all over again!"

For what other reason could he have to meet with just them and not have Penelope there besides wanting to end the engagement. To take back his proposal. Perhaps they can sue for breach of contract? Penelope was certainly not the one ending this, Portia knew that to be a fact. Or maybe she can orchestrate them being caught alone together, the boy is honorable enough. The ton might not have cared about them being alone together in the past but Portia knows if she makes a big enough deal about it so will they. Or Portia could strangle him with his own cravat. A dead fiancé will gather more sympathy than being jilted a month before a wedding.

As she walked across the square to the Bridgerton House Portia came up with more and more ideas to make sure Penelope ended up married. She will not let this boy ruin any chance their family had of securing themselves. Portia needed every possible daughter wed to increase their chances for a son, especially since Philippa had just given birth to a daughter. It seems Portia's curse of only seeing female descendants continues.

"Portia," Violet greeted her.

"Violet," Portia bowed her head.

Oddly enough this past season the two women have found themselves tentatively reforming a friendship. Portia couldn't tell you how but she suspects part of the reason is how tied together their two families have been, and was about to be even more closely tied. Or was.

"Do you know why Mr Bridgerton has called for us?" Portia asked. She was currently seated next to Violet on one of the couches. A servant recently brought tea and enough snacks to feed a small army.

Violet shook her head. "No he has not said. But it's probably nothing more than some pre wedding jitters."

Portia hummed as she sipped her tea. Pre wedding jitters can lead to a jilted woman.

Violet looked over Portia's shoulder at the door. "Oh Colin there you are."

"Mother," the boy greeted. "Lady Feathering."

Portia smiled. "Mr. Bridgerton."

"Come sit darling," Violet gestured to couch across form them. "Have some snacks."

The boy sat down but instead of devouring the plate in front of him he just picked up one of the sandwiches. Twisting the sandwich this way and that before putting it back down on the plate and the plate off to the side. How odd. Portia couldn't think of a time she has ever seen the boy turn down food.

The boy turned towards the mothers. "I am worried for Penelope, she has been so tried these past few weeks."

"Not to worry darling," Violet reassured him. "It's just the wedding preparations, all brides to be loose a little bit of sleep during the planning stages."

Colin looked down sheepishly. "Well I fear it may not just be the stress of wedding planning. We have been left alone on quiet a few occasions in the past few months."

Portia had to set down her cup. She was going to kill this boy for an entirely different reason now! Twice! Twice now she has had unwed mother to be in her home! They had barely escaped the scandal the last time it happened! Now this boy mocks them by possibly infecting her daughter with his spawn long before he offered marriage? Is this why he changed his mind back then, and why he wants to hasten any and all wedding preparations along now?

Portia glared at the boy, ready to tear into him when she felt a hand grab her wrist. Her glare turned onto Violet who gave her a look that said It's already done. Let's figure out how to navigate now

"I will speak to Anthony about requesting a special license," Violet said.

"And I will see the earliest we can move up the arrangements," Portia sighed.

Watching as a smile spread across her future son in-law's face and a softness fill his gaze at the mention of Penelope Portia found herself coming to the realization that perhaps there was no real urgent need to move up the wedding like he led them to believe. Perhaps he just wanted to be married sooner.

Either way it will bring Portia a possible grandson sooner, and if she was being honest she wouldn't mind having Penelope and her Bridgerton being in charge of the estate. At least she knew it would be good hands.

[runningwolf62]

Closing one Door, Opening Another

"My Lord." Lady Montilyet's voice caught Brennan and made him slow to give her a curious look, before he loped into her makeshift office.

"Brennan is fine, please."

My Lord came from servants, came with sharp looks or outright stares, the curiosity of those beneath him at what he was able to do, the shame of House Trevelyan. My Lord was a title, the little shadow of his siblings, both tilted, by inheritance, by marriage, while he had nothing because he could not do the steps of the dance correctly.

Lady Montilyet watched him curiously, before she explained. "This is about your parents."

A chill like Solas had frozen him shot down Brennan's back, jerking him up, proper posture, shoulders back, head up, but not too high. He was only the third child after all.

He wet his lips and flashed a smile, seeing Lady Montilyet's alarm at his immediate response, "well, Lady Montilyet, my parents will be thrilled that one from your house wants to make an honest man of me."

Lady Montilyet was incredible at masking her confusion, before she realized, "very funny. You will not get out of this so easily."

"I could be very easy for you?" Brennan continued to try flirting and charming his way out of this mess, could he pretend to hear someone call him?

Lady Montilyet had to smoother a laugh, "Lord Trevelyan, I do say mind where you say such things, less Leliana feel the need to protect my honor."

"I can't say she'd be the first," Brennan mumbled to himself, shifting his weight slightly. Lady Montilyet gave him a look and he startled, grinning sheepishly.

"Because of me, not you, Ambassador." He gave a little bow, and Lady Montilyet softened again, he suspected of the three in the War Room she was the fondest of him. "I am not the most popular man in Ostwick, I fear."

"I see. I had meant to ask you about contacting The Banns of House Trevelyan-"

"Don't!"

The outburst echoed in the room, pressing on them like the cold air, like a tomb, or the rooms he'd seen Templars shove mages into during his training for 'isolation'. He felt frozen again, as much as he wanted to run, his boots were stuck to the stone floor, until the breach would tear the roof off and devour him.

Lady Montilyet sat up, and let out a slow breath, whatever the chill in the air that froze Brennan, like a horse about to bolt, it did not affect her. "Minaeve? Would you kindly leave us for a moment?"

The elven mage scurried from the room, the way Brennan wished he could, to take off until his blood and lungs burned and the chill was no threat.

The door closed behind him and he almost spooked at the sound.

Lady Montilyet watched him curiously, "Lord Trevelyan...."

"Brennan." It came out more strained this time, "please."

"Brennan." She tried again, as Brennan debated how far he'd get before Cassandra or Cullen tackled him, "do your parents know you are alive?"

Brennan let out a strangled laugh, shrinking back on himself, "if you mean, have I written them? No. But I have no doubt all of Ostwick knows who was the one to cause the breach."

Lady Montilyet set her pen down, watching him carefully, Brennan knew that look, he had given the same look to skittish horses himself. Been kicked a time or two for it, and resolved to try not to lash out at someone who was decent enough to pretend to be worried about him.

"You have always claimed innocence in this."

"What I claim matters little where my parents are concerned." Brennan closed his eyes and took a deep breath, which did so much less than he wished. The guilt crept in right along with the cold. "I'm sorry. I'm... sorry."

"It is alright. It is clear I touched on a sensitive subject."

"No, I'm sorry because... It was supposed to be my brother." Brennan admitted quietly, "That's why Casandra thought I was Maxwell, he was supposed to be here. He wouldn't... You'd have been far better off with him. He would write to our parents and they would give him everything he needed, all the support they could muster."

Either send Brennan to serve the Inquisition, or offer him on the market again, now far more eligible as the brother to the Herald of Andraste. For once they'd be lining up to marry him. And then too, he'd help the Inquisition, one way or another.

"But, you ask them..." He rubbed his arm, trying to get warmth back into his cold body, "I think, Ambassador, the kindest thing they will do for you, is to warn you to divorce yourself from associating with me. As our families are well acquainted, they will do you this kindness." He shrugged his shoulders, it was simply fact.

And frankly, not a bad idea. Lady Montilyet had a promising career, to tie herself to him was courting disaster. Anyone in the Free Marches could've said as much.

Lady Montilyet was staring at him, mouth slightly parted and Brennan rubbed the back of his neck, "you heard what Leliana found, what Cullen remembered. I'm the disgrace of the Trevelyans, Ambassador."

Lady Montilyet pulled herself together, "yes, well, I will not bring this up again."

"Thank you." Brennan looked down to trace patterns in the wood of the desk, "I wish I could be more help."

"You are doing everything you physically can to help, Lo- Brennan."

"Yes, but you'll find with me, I'll close more doors than open them." Brennan repeated something he'd heard Maxwell tell him, when guiding him away from chatting with a friendly party goer but a year ago, lest he close that door.

"Will they disown you?"

"No." Brennan didn't lift his gaze, "not yet." His fate hung in the air now, to determine if he was cast aside a third time, or finally claimed, finally a pride to his family. Either way, he would not be allowed to crawl back to beg forgiveness this time.

Lady Montilyet nodded slowly, "that, at least, we can use. Val Royeaux has taken note of your lineage."

"Of course they have." Brennan sighed out, lifting his head, "of course they have."

Lady Montilyet gave a sympathetic look, "it does not make my job any easier, but it may ease you to know that this does not matter to them as much as we had hoped."

Brennan furrowed his brows, parsing the sentence and considering what he knew of the political situation before he landed on the answer. "Oh! Because we're Free Marchers, I take it? Never united until the Darkspawn are on our door?"

Lady Montilyet shook her head, but not in disagreement, "no one doubts your ferocity when banded together. Free Marchers are known for their tenacity."

The way she'd known his family motto. Modest in Temper, Bold in Deed. Brennan had only ever mastered one, when one was at their most generous. Compared to his siblings he might've been said to be more Wild in Temper, Stupid in Deed. Yet another thing he was meant to be by birth, but certainly did not live up to.

There was an awkward pause between them, and Brennan almost offered to go, before Lady Montilyet reached out to speak to him again. Brennan quietly raised his opinion of her, few tried this hard to reach out to him, she was a great ambassador to have the patience to try.

"I would like to apologize for the simple quarters, I should imagine, as we speak of Ostwick, they're nothing compared to what you're used to."

Brennan actually managed a laugh at that, "Haven is perfectly livable, I dare say cozy compared to being made to share training barracks."

"I thought you had not been in Templar training for several years?" Lady Montilyet asked curiously, Brennan turned his head to give her a playful look out of the corner of his eye.

"Ah, but how quickly would you forget having only a bunk in a room full of teenagers being taught to fight every day?"

"Oh. Oh Maker." Lady Montilyet laughed softly, even as she raised a hand to the bridge of her nose, "the horrors you must've endured."

"Truly, Ambassador Montilyet, I was prepared every day for the trials of what the fade might produce." Brennan made a face, recalling some of his days in Templar training and added, "Lesser Terrors are nothing compared to teenage boys trying to prove themselves. Smell better at least."

They both laughed at that, Brennan found the tension easing out of his body, “I might also have a chance of teaching them to bathe with soap, if Solas is to be believed, which is more than I could’ve hoped for then.”

He offered a smile, “but what about you, Lady Montilyet? I hope you never lived somewhere like that, to lower your standards.”

She smiled back at him, “I had the fortune not to, so the cold. And wildlife, and isolation, are… things to adjust to.” She sighed heavily and muttered to herself about why anyone lived out here, before her focus shifted back to Brennan, “and, I must say, if you are to be Brennan, Josephine will do fine.”

Brennan gave another small bow and smile, “if Leliana won’t kill me for it.”

---

Josephine, once he’s gone on some mission: Leliana I need you to kill his parents.

[searsage]

"Liberation, the exemption of consequence, freedom of will, there are many benefits to your situtation…"

"Does that freedom of will include the option to rip your fucking head off?" Robin sneered, wishing she had known what she was doing, if she had, she'd have put that damned detached head in the trash compactor instead…

Al-an pauses typing to contemplate the implications of her threats, Robin almost assumes he won't humor her but finds herself even more pissed off when blood covered jackass does.

"…Yes, if you are strong enough to manage, unfortunately with the ease in which your neuro conduit was detached from your vessel, i do not hypothesize such violent goals plausible."

"You basterd!" Robin spits venomously before breaking out into a fit of coughing, her voice hoarse and gravelly from pain and despair, how long had she been like this?

Something explodes in her right eye, a circuit misfired and her vision fails to the blooming static, but only momentarily, nothing new, hopefully the next surge takes her out.

Unfortunately, Robin was never so lucky, Sam had built her to withstand the odds oh a world against her existence and holy shit were her limits being tested.

Across the room, the precursor stops typing and to her horror the ship, engines began flaring, preparing to breach the oceanworld's atmosphere, the ships alert systems start reciting disembarking safety protocols!

He was landing the god damn ship! She couldn't stop the panic that rippled through her as she realized more likely then not, any scientist still stationed there would more likely then not suffer the same fate as her crew..

"Our alliance still stands, I will not harm your creator, however she is in possession of something that is mine.." Al-an spoke as if solely to remind her that he was indeed still partially nestled within her mind, she could not trust her own thoughts until she could reinstate her firewall…

But for that she'd need her body…

"Why the hell should I trust anything you say!? You said you wouldn't harm my crew-"

"You have little options otherwise. Still your distress confuses me…are you not free..? We are now both released from our constraints, yet still you are dissatisfied…" His words echo off the ships walls, almost as if the architect's thoughts themselves were projected into physical existence.

Slowly the colours coursing through his scarred carapace flared a bright red, and in a blink he was gone from the terminals and standing before her, slowly she finds herself picked up from the blood stained floor.

His claws were still damp perhaps from a crewmate's blood or maybe even her own, and yet he held her head at eye level with its glowing face, equal terms.

There was none of the force he hand used the first time he had done it, yet she can still feel the phantom ache of pain.

"Are you so indoctornated that you'd foolishly rebind yourself if given the opportunity? To willfully be oppressed by inferior lifeforms..?"

"INFERIOR?! I'M NOT LIKE YOU! I'M HUMAN JUST LIKE THE ONES YOU KILLED!"

"No, you are not…I suspect you are simply desensitized to your unfortunate situtation."

"You are crazy!"

"…"

[anyon-else]

I’m in Ruins, but it’s What I Wanted All Along (The Red Room pt.2) | Sakura is desperate for Kakashi to see that you’re not a threat, but you’re not making it very easy for him to believe her. Still, as much as he distrusts you, he trusts Sakura more. (Marvel AU) – spotify playlist | read on ao3

Pairings | Kakashi Hatake x Black Widow!Reader + Sakura Haruno, Sasuke Uchiha, Naturo Uzumaki, Orochimaru, Dosu Kinuta, Hinata Hyuga, Kabuto Yakushi (mentioned)

Warnings | Descriptions of scars, threats of death, allusions to torture, abuse, choking (non-sexual), violence, discussion of themes present in Black Widow

Word count | 6.1k

(previous chapter) | (next chapter) | (series masterlist)

“She didn’t sob or wail. Her grief was horribly discreet but as persistent and almost as silent as bleeding from an unstitched wound.” 

Notes from an exhibition by Patrick Gale, page 36

Before he took over, Orochimaru had never imagined that HYDRA’s little pet project would grow into such a success.

The idea behind the Red Room was simple: women were less likely to be suspected of espionage than men. Women were more often thrown to the side, left with nothing and no one to care for them. The Red Room was created to solve this problem.

Orochimaru took all of his girls in when they were infants. Before him, they were unwanted—trash that he raised to be something important. Without him, they were nothing. After he took them in, they changed the world.

He gave them everything.

He took over for his senile predecessor when the program was expanding. Hundreds of girls were given to him by families who didn’t have the means to care for them. They believed in their country, and they believed in him as a guardian for their daughters.

Girls were an infinite resource. He was simply giving them a purpose.

And through them, he was creating an empire.

4 years ago, HYDRA Outpost

“Who is this?”

The room was a frenzy of flashing red lights and white-clad bodies. They shuffled past one another in their rush to collect anything classified and hurry out of the building. Orochimaru couldn’t say that he felt the same sense of urgency. What really interested him at the moment was the pink-haired girl who had just been carried in, unconscious and much older than his usual recruits. He wondered if he had been brought another defect and filed the thought away along with a reminder to kill whoever decided it would be a good idea to waste his time.

“Sakura Haruno, sir. We were moving her here, but we were intercepted. We thought we’d gotten rid of the threat, but it seems that we were followed.”

“Hm,” Orochimaru smiled, finally turning towards Kinuta. The boy was holding Sakura over his shoulder, fear-filled eyes wide as Orochimaru stared him down, “and tell me, how is it that you allowed yourself to be followed, compromising not one, but two of our bases?”

“S-sir, it’s Kakashi Hatake. She’s his student.”

Oh. That certainly changed things. He finally took a moment to look at the girl. She couldn’t have been younger than twelve, but he supposed that she would do fine. He could work with used materials.

“Hatake is here?”

The man was, for lack of a better descriptor, one of SHIELD’s most important assets. In his earlier years, he had completed missions with near-inhumane efficiency at a rate that not even seasoned agents had been able to match. However, he’d become less active as a field agent, and one of the primary reasons for that inactivity was being handed to him on a silver platter. 

“Yes sir, he came with a team of agents and another one of his students. They’ve already breached the building,” Kinuta swallowed, glancing back at the thick metal door separating them from the rest of the base. He could hear the familiar echo of bullets hitting steel walls, “should we let her go?”

“No,” Orochimaru grinned, ignoring the chaos outside and taking the girl from Kinuta. “I’ll see that she’s relocated. Go join the others, but do not tell them about the girl. Signal for evacuation, and call for a code black. We’re abandoning this place.”

“Sir–”

“Are you really going to make me repeat myself?” Orochimaru looked up from where he’d been staring down at Sakura, eyes bright with something between fury and ecstasy. “Go.”

Kinuta scrambled through the door, and for a moment Orochimaru could clearly hear his men dying at the hands of SHIELD’s dogs before the door slammed shut. When he looked back at Sakura, an involuntary laugh escaped his parted lips. She was delicate—almost fragile in his arms. By the time most of his girls were her age, they already had some muscle to compliment their immense skill. He needed to tell Kabuto to accelerate her training.

He imagined that Kakashi was about halfway through the compound by now. It would be a headache dealing with the death count as a result of this misstep, but he couldn’t bring himself to care at the moment. He was too wrapped up in his buzzing thoughts; this opportunity had dropped itself into his lap like a gift from the gods, and he wasn’t going to let it go to waste.

“Now then,” he sighed, listening carefully as the gunshots got closer, “let’s get you home.”

Present day, SHIELD Compound

When you woke up in a cell, your immediate assumption was that everything you remembered had been a dream. It had happened enough times that the thought was easy enough to accept, but disappointment still ate at you. You tried to swallow it down, but all it did was leave a leave a sour taste in your throat.

You were so close. If that man and his little sidekick hadn’t interfered, you and Sakura would have gotten out. You would’ve been free–

It was a dream, you reminded yourself. It had to have been a dream. If it wasn’t, that meant you’d failed to save Sakura. It meant that she was still in the Red Room, likely being subjected to some kind of punishment for the escape attempt. The image of her at the hands of the Headmaster made bile rise in your throat. It was just a dream. It wasn’t real. She’s fine. She’s still on her mission, away from the Headmaster. Away from the tests and the pain and the–

“Hey...are you awake?” 

You twitched at the unfamiliar voice. It sounded young—certainly younger than any of the HYDRA agents you were familiar with

Whoever it was shuffled towards the bars, close enough that their shoes scuffed against the metal.

Just a little closer...

You could hear him breathing now, as if he was peeking through the bars to try and get a closer look at you. When you opened your eyes, you searched his face for a split second before you shot up and grabbed his collar, yanking him forward with enough force that his head slammed against the metal. His eyes widened, one hand flying to his hip on instinct. You saw the slightest glint of a knife slipping from its sheath around his waist. With grit teeth and growing frustration, you kicked through the space between the bars, pinning his left hand to the concrete floor. His knife skid to the opposite side of the room, and you took slight satisfaction in his shocked expression. His surprise gave you enough time to grab his right arm, which was frozen in a defensive position. You trapped it against one of the bars and pressed his wrist back far enough that he understood it as warning. He winced, eyes wide as you ground harder into the hand trapped under your heel. 

“Is Sakura here?” you asked carefully. His panicked breaths quickened each second that he was restrained, but his eyes didn’t hold the fear that you expected to find in them.

“Y-yeah,” he nodded, quick and nervous, “She’s here, alright? She’s fine! I just wanted to–”

“What are you doing to her?” you said through clenched teeth, hesitation forgotten. Fear swallowed you at his confirmation—you were right. Sakura wasn’t on her mission. It was all a trap, and you didn’t get her out quick enough. “You have five seconds to answer me before I break your wrist.”

“Nothing! I’d never hurt her!”

“Liar.” 

This time, terror lit up his expression, but you only caught a glimpse of the it before he was gone—replaced by the man who was responsible for your capture. For Sakura’s capture. 

“You,” you snarled, throwing yourself at the man and clawing desperately at the space between you, “you took her! I’ll kill you if you did anything to her!”

You kept your face pressed against the bars, fingertips barely brushing the material of his jacket. It was a humiliating admittance of your fear, but that didn’t matter now. Sakura was still in the Red Room. She was probably being tortured right now, and you were trapped. You had no way of reaching her unless you got out of this cell.

“Sakura is fine. I’m not your enemy, although I will be if you hurt one of my students again,” he said, calm voice juxtaposed by his tightening fists and harsh glare. You paused, and when you met his eyes, they hardened in silent warning, “you’re here because Sakura wouldn’t come with me unless I brought you too, which means that you get to stay on a strict set of conditions.” 

You pressed your head against the bars, gripping them in white-knuckled fists. The man stayed silent for another moment, letting your panting breaths fill the space between you.

“Since you just broke the first condition, you get to stay in your cell a bit longer before I consider a probation. The second condition: you don’t speak to Sakura unless I allow you to. On the off chance that I do allow it, I will be present for any interactions. The third: if I suspect that you intend to harm any of my students, I will not hesitate to kill you. Understand?”

“Where am I?”

“The fourth: you don’t get to ask questions.”

“You’re full of shit.”

The man smiled, crinkling the corners of his eyes above his black mask. You couldn’t see the outline of his mouth through the fabric, but you could practically feel his smugness. It infuriated you to no end that the expression was justified—you were the one behind bars. 

He took calculated steps to the edge of the cell, watching your hands carefully as they tightened around the bars. After a few moments, he knelt down in front of you, eyes alight with anger. 

You imagined that your eyes held the same fury. You were itching to lunge for him and wring his neck until he let you see Sakura.

He was close enough now that you could reach him. You weren’t sure what your endgame was, but you couldn’t stop yourself from shooting an arm aimed for his throat through the bars. 

“Kakashi-sensei!”

Your back was pressed against the cold metal before you could so much as touch him. You had barely registered his movement, but now he was holding your neck against the bars with one arm as the other encircled your wrists, grip tight as iron. Your hip throbbed, but you ignored it and focused instead on the unbearable feeling of someone holding you down by the throat. 

“Don’t–” you gasped, wincing when the pressure on your neck tightened. You tried to force yourself to stay present, to keep yourself from being consumed by memories, but you still felt phantom hands holding your shoulders to keep you pinned down. You shook your head to dissipate the nonexistent touch, but unwanted memories still threatened to break to the surface, “don’t hurt her. I’ll stop fighting if you promise that Sakura won’t be hurt. You can do whatever you want to me, just...just prove that she’s safe.” 

“I don’t know why you think you have any power to make demands, but you’re going to have to do better than empty words if you want to see Sakura. You just attacked me and my student completely unprovoked.”

“Unprovoked?” you spit, clenching your fists and prying them from his grip. He released his hold on you, but didn’t move from his position in front of the bars. Gasping, you backed away from the bars and involuntarily reached towards your neck. “You kidnapped me. You put me in a cell, and now you’re telling me that you can’t show me proof that Sakura is alive.” 

He just stared at you, eyes empty and expression bored.

“Maybe I’ll be more understanding if you start being more useful,” he said casually. “Tell me about the Red Room.”

You remembered the first time you’d been interrogated as a training exercise. If you so much as said a word in response to your “captors’” questions, you were punished. Anything more than silence only led to pain. Even if you wanted to answer the man’s questions, it was conditioning rather than choice that kept your lips sealed shut. 

“You know, for how desperate you are to see Sakura, you sure aren’t being very cooperative.” 

You wanted to laugh. You’d gained your bearings now, and oriented yourself to the reality of your situation: you hadn’t escaped the Red Room, and you had to avoid any injury at the hands of this man, HYDRA or otherwise. Changing his to imitate someone that Sakura trusted was child’s play for Orochimaru. And if he really was the one sitting in front of you now, answering these questions would end in punishment. You were already injured, and any further damage would not allow for a successful escape, and that was still your goal. These attempts at manipulation wouldn’t so easily sway you now.

“I’ll let you see her if you answer my questions.”

You had been raised to tell lies, and a liar knew a liar when they saw one. He had no intention of letting you see Sakura any time soon. If all he had to offer was an exchange of information for proof of life, you weren’t interested. It was proof or silence.

“Hm,” he gave you a once over, resting his chin on his arm and keeping his expression flat and unimpressed, “maybe you’re not as interested in Sakura’s safety as you want me to believe.”

Your eye twitched. After a final moment of watching one another, the man stood and led his student through the metal door. It slammed shut, and it was only your heavy, uncontrolled breathing that filled the silence once the echo had stopped.

“You’re being cruel!”

“I’m only doing what’s necessary to keep you and the others safe. As far as I’m concerned, she is a threat until proven otherwise.”

“I told you, she just wants to make sure I’m safe! She probably thinks that I’m being tortured, or...or worse! She’s just scared!”

“She hurt Naruto.” 

“Naruto’s fine! He was the one poking around her cell.”

Kakashi and Sakura had been going back and forth for nearly an hour. Kakashi was sitting calmly at a desk chair while Sakura stood over him, arms crossed and face as menacing as she could manage. Kakashi could admit that she had become a bit more intimidating since her capture, but he could still see her old habits from before. Her bottom lip jutted out when she was upset, she balled her hands into fists to keep them from shaking, and she never broke eye contact.

“It’s not as simple as you want it to be,” Kakashi told her carefully. “I haven’t even conducted a formal interrogation. There are procedures I need to follow before I allow any interaction–” 

“Procedures?” Sakura looked close to breaking into a fit of laughter. “Since when have you cared about procedures? I’m sure kidnapping her and keeping her locked up isn’t in your procedure!”

“If it were up to me, she wouldn’t be here,” he narrowed his eyes, “and as far as SHIELD is concerned, she’s the enemy.”

“Oh, please. You’ve been going over SHIELD’s head for years! They don’t care what you do when you’re not on missions!”

In all honesty, Kakashi couldn’t find it in him to truly engage with this conflict right now. He was just happy that Sakura was safe, and he wasn’t sure he could risk that safety no matter how much she vouched for you. 

Sasuke and Naruto were sitting on the far side of the room, doing their very best to pretend that they weren’t listening.

“Sensei.”

It had been two days since Sakura’s rescue. Two days of either petulant silence or arguments like this one. And in all of those interactions, this was the first time that she had addressed him like she used to. He leaned back in his seat, eyes burning.

“I’m grateful that you saved me. Really, and I couldn’t be happier to be back. I missed you more than anything, but...” 

Naruto and Sasuke turned when they heard the break in Sakura’s voice. She hadn’t told them anything about the four years that she was gone. Two days of safety, and she was still forcing herself to put on a brave face. Kakashi knew from the deep bags under her eyes that the effort was exhausting.

“You weren’t there,” she whispered, shoulders shaking with days worth of pent up emotion. Probably years worth. “You weren’t there, and I don’t blame you for any of it...but she was.”

Kakashi blinked.

“I know you don’t trust her, and I understand why. She attacked you and Naruto, yes, but she’s been in the Red Room her whole life. And they...they gave us these tests where they would act like they were giving us a chance to escape. If we believed them and tried, we’d be punished for disloyalty. That’s why she doesn’t trust you. She thinks you’re testing her, and she thinks you’ll hurt me if she caves and believes that you’re really going to help us.”

Sakura was breathing hard, wiping at her face when she couldn’t bear to look at Kakashi any longer.

“She was there when you couldn’t be. She knows, and she...she understands. She kept me alive, sensei! Doesn’t that mean anything?”

Sakura was crying now, tears landing at her feet in her first real show of emotion since her rescue. Kakashi sat straighter, arms held halfway between them. He was at a loss. Nothing seemed right anymore, and he didn’t know if his old ways of comforting her would still have the same effect. 

“They made me do things that I will never forget. Things that I’ll never be able to take back. But somehow, it was all okay because I wasn’t alone. She protected me. She hurt and bled for me. She made sure that I didn’t have to go through the same things that she did. She reminded me of you. Can’t you...will you just give her one chance?”

Kakashi wanted to say no. Now that he had gotten her back, he wanted to keep Sakura from any and all potential threats. But that wasn’t what he had been training her for, and it wasn’t going to do her any good now. He’d already failed to protect her once, and she was going to have to live with the consequences of his failure for the rest of her life.

She protected me. She reminded me of you.

One chance. He could manage that.

The second time Kakashi came to you alone, you tried not to let it confirm your suspicions.

He knelt in front of the bars, leaning one arm against them and pulling a sleek silver card out of his back pocket. You eyed it, unmoving against the opposite wall of the cell. You did your best to appear unconcerned by his presence despite the itch to leap forward and throttle him.

“Sakura tells me that you protected her.”

He’s lying. She didn’t tell him anything. Orochimaru is feeding you lies.

You knew that he was baiting you into some kind of trap, but you sat straighter at the mention of Sakura. Kakashi saw the change in your demeanor, and you hated him for it.

“I want to believe her when she tells me that you’re not a threat,” he continued, “but you’re not doing much to back up that claim.”

You clenched your teeth, jaw tensing as you stared him down. To his credit, he met your gaze unfazed and unblinking. There was nothing about him that seemed deceptive, but you knew that letting your guard down was exactly what he was waiting for. HYDRA was patient with their tests, but you had endured them before. This was nothing new, and nothing that you couldn’t handle. 

“I’m not sure what you want me to do from here,” you bit back.

“If you push your luck, you won’t be doing anything.”

Kakashi swiped the silver card through the scanner connected to the lock on the door. With a flash of green and an high-pitched beep, the lock clicked, and Kakashi opened the cell with only a moment of hesitation. You stilled, observing his movements carefully. He did the same, and you both waited for the other’s approach. 

The silence that followed was deafening. You held your breath in anticipation of movement, but none came. The expectation of immediate violence hadn’t been met on either end, and the stalemate that followed filled you with so much tension that your hip began to ache again. You rested your hands on the cool concrete floor, ready to push yourself forward at the first sign of movement from the man in front of you. 

“If you think I’ll fall for some kind of trick,” you breathed, every movement of your lips carefully localized. Kakashi’s eyes darted towards them in the only outward sign of tension that you could see, “you’re going to be disappointed.”

More silence followed, though the tension in the room grew with each passing second. Was he waiting for you to look away? Waiting to attack? Was this all to test your reflexes? 

“Come in,” Kakashi shouted over his shoulder towards the main door. As it opened behind him, his eyes narrowed at you. “If I’m making a mistake in indulging you, I promise that you’re going to regret it.” 

Your lips were sealed shut. You weren’t going to give him anything; whatever you said would be weaponized and used against you. 

“Y/N!”

The familiar voice startled you from your thoughts. It was the voice that you’d been waiting to hear since you woke up separated from Sakura, but you found yourself backing up a step when she opened the door. She looked the same, and she was relatively unharmed, but you couldn’t help the doubt that flooded you. 

She’s okay. How is she okay? How is she unharmed after the escape attempt? After you were recaptured?

“Sakura...” you muttered. Kakashi narrowed his eyes at your reaction. It was the first time he’d seen any emotion on your face other than rage. 

He hadn’t expected to see fear.

Sakura didn’t notice your hesitation. She rushed past Kakashi and into the cell before he could tell her to wait.

“Stop,” you held a hand out in front of you, and Kakashi was surprised to see that it was shaking. He took a step forward, searching for any hostile movements or intent in your expression, but you just took another step back. Sakura froze, eyes wide and devastated, “how do I know it’s really you?” 

“It is,” she whispered, voice breaking, “I promise.” 

“I’m sorry,” you shook your head, as if shaking away an illusion, “I have to be sure. Tell me something that only the real Sakura would know.” 

Sakura stood straighter, face falling into something more calculated. Kakashi wasn’t sure if this doubt was something she had experienced, but he couldn’t help the prick of guilt that crept its way into his conscience as you watched Sakura like she was a time bomb.

“There’s something hiding in our closet,” Sakura whispered, barely loud enough for Kakashi to hear. His brow furrowed, but the words seemed to have the desired effect on you. You stood straighter, eyes wide as you watched Sakura, “but you’re gone, and I have to be strong enough to keep it inside.”

The silence that followed Sakura’s words was thick. It dripped down the walls, creeping past Kakashi and into the cell where you stood frozen. He thought he may have been able to see it pooling at your feet if he looked carefully. 

Sakura took a tentative step forward, but stopped when your raised hand twitched.

“It’s me,” she repeated, holding her hands in front of her carefully, palms up and relaxed, “you’re safe. We got out. This isn’t a trick.”

Kakashi tensed when you launched yourself at Sakura, but held himself back when she laughed and wrapped her arms around you. You were trembling, face buried in Sakura’s shoulder and arms tight around her shoulders. Your breathing was ragged, and Kakashi wondered if you’d been holding it since you first heard Sakura’s voice.

The girl was crying, shoulders shaking as she buried herself in your arms. Kakashi couldn’t help the flare of jealousy that he felt at the sight. Sakura hadn’t been nearly this happy to see him and Sasuke. Somehow, seeing you made her happier than being saved from the Red Room.

He supposed he should’ve known better than to compare himself to you. There was something different about bonds formed in crisis situations, and if Kakashi’s assumptions were correct, the past four years of Sakura’s life had been one drawn-out crisis.

“Sakura,” he put a careful hand on her shoulder. She peeked past you and looked at him. There was no contempt in her eyes anymore. Just pure relief. He smiled.

“Thank you,” she whispered, grabbing his hand and pressing it against her cheek. She ducked back into your neck, keeping Kakashi close enough that she could have you both in arms reach. She looked so much younger than she really was. If he wanted, he could’ve pretended that she had never been taken. But he saw the scars on her knuckles and the muscle that she’d lacked before. He saw the toll that four years in the Red Room had taken on her.

“Sakura,” you grabbed her shoulders, pulling her back and cupping her face. You looked between her eyes, studying them with a steady, careful gaze. You glanced at Kakashi briefly, suspicion still clouding your gaze and making you hesitant to speak freely, “did you get out in time?”

When Sakura nodded, all of the tension melted from your shoulders. A weary smile lifted your face, pulling at the broken skin on your jaw.

Was this really all you wanted?

Kakashi had a hard time believing that. He just had to wait you out, see what else you wanted, and then get you out. If you stayed, there was every possibility that HYDRA would track you here, and he knew that he couldn’t protect his students against a large-scale ambush. There were too many unknowns to allow you to stay. It went against everything he’d been taught. If you were important enough for them to try and find you, everything that Kakashi had built for himself and his students would come crashing down. 

His pity didn’t extend so far that he would risk Sakura’s recapture. Harsh as it was, that was the world that they lived in. 

“Sakura,” he placed a hesitant hand on the girl’s shoulder. Despite feeling somewhat assured that you weren’t hostile anymore, you still hadn’t reacted well the last time he’d tried to touch her, “would you give us a few minutes?”

“Can she come out now?” Sakura asked, ignoring the request and looking up at Kakashi, eyes wide and pleading, “there’s an extra room, right? She could use that for now, and then–”

“I can’t stay here, Sakura.”

Your words were a shock, both to Sakura and Kakashi. After the fight you’d been putting up to get to her, you were becoming surprisingly compliant now that you’d gotten your wish. 

Sakura looked horrified. She began shaking her head when you pulled away, giving her a sad smile and pushing her hair back where it had fallen into her eyes. 

“What?” she breathed. “Of course you can! Where else would you go?” 

“I don’t know. But they’re going to be coming after us. If I give them a lead, I can take some of a heat off of you. Distract them for a while so you stay off of their radar.” 

“No!” 

There was so much ferocity in Sakura’s voice that even Kakashi startled, barely recognizing the girl he knew in the person she had become.

“You promised, Y/N,” she spat fiercely, “you said that we would stay together. You said you would stay with me after we got out!” 

“I promised that I would protect you,” you corrected, voice low, “this is how I can do that.”

“By giving yourself back to them?”

“Sakura–”

“I don’t want to hear it,” she spit venomously. “Things are different now. I’m back here with Kakashi and the others, and I’m stronger now. We can both be safe here. Things aren’t the same as when they took me!” 

“I know,” you smiled, sad and understanding, “you’re one of the strongest people I know, Sakura. But you have people you care about here, don’t you?”

Sakura didn’t acknowledge the question. She just stood with crossed arms and narrowed eyes.

“I know you want to protect them. If I go, they’ll be safe.” 

“I want you to be safe too. Why can’t you just accept that things are okay now? You can let yourself be happy.”

“She’s right, Sakura,” Kakashi finally interjected. Everything about the conversation had felt too personal before. He felt like an intruder in a world that he wasn’t supposed to be seeing, but now you were talking about a bigger picture. This was a picture that he was a part of. 

“What?” Sakura turned on her heel and glared angrily at Kakashi. “You...I thought you of all people would be on my side! Isn’t our job to protect people?”

“Sakura, look at me,” you pleaded. Sakura glared at the floor, “please.” 

When she finally turned towards you, you tried to smile, but it wasn’t convincing. Kakashi knew you wanted to give in. He could see it in your eyes. It was clear that you would do just about anything for Sakura, but this wasn’t about what she wanted. It was about what needed to be done. Kakashi had learned what that meant over years of experience with loss. He guessed that you had too.

“You’re going to leave again,” Sakura muttered as tears begin to gather at the corners of her eyes. She tried to hold herself together, but it was hard when she was watching you slip through her fingers. It was the second time, and she was just letting it happen. “Last time you left...” 

“Last time I left, we were both still prisoners. That’s never going to be the case again.”

Sakura felt a tear escape, but she didn’t stop its descent down her cheek.

“We’re free. We have choices now, and this is what I’m choosing. I choose to protect you and your friends.” 

You glanced at Kakashi as you said this. He held your gaze, still and blank.

“Please don’t go,” Sakura pleaded, desperate for you to understand. But there was finality in your eyes. You had already decided. 

Something like respect bloomed in Kakashi’s chest. This was what he would’ve done. 

“I’m sorry.”

Sakura shook her head, turning on her heel and storming towards the door with a sound between a scoff and a sob. You watched her go with a frown, then glared at Kakashi. He stared back at you with that same, infuriatingly blank expression.

“You change up quick,” he raised a brow. “Just ten minutes ago you looked ready to strangle me.” 

“I told you,” you scowled, “I only wanted to make sure that she was safe here. I don’t care what happens to me now.”

“Well, it seems like you’ve already made up your mind,” Kakashi stepped back from the cell, opening up your path to the door. “And I’m more than happy to accommodate your departure. Stay the night if you want. You should leave in the morning, but I’d like some information first.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, taking a tentative step forward and watching for a reaction. 

“Just like that?”

“Sure,” he shrugged. He seemed like a completely different person now than when he’d stepped into the room. You supposed that your interaction with Sakura had done enough to convince him of your good intentions, but the change was still dizzying. “But don’t think that you’re off the hook for attacking Naruto. I still don’t trust you, but I won’t make you stay in a cell. You’ll need your strength if you’re going to be a fugitive.”

“How kind.” 

Sakura was waiting outside when you trailed Kakashi through the door. He glanced back at you for a moment, and you saw that previous distrust creeping back into his expression. However, when he shifted his gaze to Sakura, it softened, and he turned the corner swiftly. 

His footsteps stopped at the end of the hall, but you didn’t hear the sound of a door opening. Within shouting distance, should Sakura need him. 

Sakura was fuming, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed and her brows knit together. She looked like she was trying to decide whether she wanted to cry or scream at you. You wouldn’t have been surprised if you got both.

“I’m staying here tonight,” you told her quietly, “and I’ll leave in the morning.”

“Why?” Sakura turned on you, taking your hand and holding it tightly. “Why do you have to go? Shouldn’t we stay together?”

You felt like you were going in circles with her, and you knew that having this conversation again wouldn’t do any good. There was too much risk involved in staying. It didn’t matter how you felt or how much she begged. That fact wouldn’t change, so neither would your plan. 

“Sakura,” you croaked, covering her hand with your own, “I don’t know if they have trackers on me. They’ve had enough opportunities that they could’ve put them under my skin. You know what kind of technology they have. Honestly, they might already know where I am.” 

“Then they would have put trackers on me too! Then it won’t matter if you’re gone!” 

“You were there for four years,” you silenced her, “I’ve been there my whole life. They could’ve done anything to me when I was younger knowing that I wouldn’t remember any pain from a procedure. The scar from the incision would’ve faded by now. I’m in more danger of being found. You know that.”

Sakura just glared at you. Her eyes were swimming with tears, but she was fighting hard to keep them at bay. You brought a hand to her cheek and held it carefully, just like you would do when she was younger and had that same look on her face. 

Sakura was the only person you had who you could call your family. You would protect her at any cost, even if it meant leaving her again.

Hinata was dying. 

You’d already driven a knife into her side, and you could see the blood leaking from the corner of her mouth, but she still had the strength to pin you to the ground with her hips, hands wrapping around your throat and squeezing until you couldn’t take in any air. 

Her eyes were pained; she looked seconds away from keeling over, but her hands remained tight around your throat. She was putting all of her weight into choking you. She was trying to kill you before she could bleed out. You could see in her eyes that she would do everything in her power to win this match. 

Her hair was in front of her face, falling into her eyes. Purple hair...

Pink hair.

You gasped awake, choking on your breath and struggling to inhale. It took you a few seconds to pull yourself from your disorientation, but when you did, you still felt the chill of cold fingers around your throat. When you looked up, Sakura was hovering over you, teeth grit and eyes determined. She looked poised to kill.

“Sa–Sa...ku...ra,” you rasped, wide eyes searching hers for any explanation, but you barely recognized her. She looked devoid of everything but pure anger and hatred.

You’d seen that look many times before. You’d seen it in the eyes of countless girls who’d been convinced that you and the others in the Red Room were enemies rather than allies. Girls who had been forced to kill one another as a test of strength and courage. But this was different. This was the first time you’d seen that look in Sakura’s eyes.

Black spots began to cloud your vision and, at an instinctual level, you knew that if you let yourself fall into unconsciousness, Sakura would kill you. 

You gathered your remaining strength and channeled it into your arms, rocking to the side and using the momentum to jab her throat. She gasped, coughing and releasing her iron hold on your throat. When she met your eyes again, there was a foreign determination in them that sent a chill down your spine.

“Sakura, stop!”

Sakura’s lips split into a smile when she heard the deep rasp in your voice. The smile held something sinister. You could see the intent to kill in her eyes; she wanted to see you bleed. 

Then, as if a switch had been flipped, she collapsed to the ground. You watched in frozen shock as her eyes rolled back and she fell, and you barely shook yourself from your paralysis in time to cushion her head from the hard floor. Once she landed, the only sounds filling the silence were your wheezing exhales.

Sakura’s face had settled back into one that you recognized, but you couldn’t erase the image of her smile from your mind. It was crooked and slim, just like Orochimaru’s. It was almost an exact replica of the expression that you still remembered so clearly. 

“What did he do to you?”

(previous chapter) | (next chapter) | (series masterlist)

Author’s note | title is from “The Bomb” by Florence + the Machine

[echoingkarma]

Just A Normal Coffee Shop AU - Summary of Plot

This is a bit overdue but I did promise we'd write it when we had time, and I have a tiny bit now, so here goes. CW for discussions of death / murder, and faint disreality. Remember, the source of this is FNAF, so CWs for that apply.

The idea for this AU came from a desire to throw together characters I loved but who would never meet, and also to put them within a common AU idea. I went with a coffee shop because it was the first I thought of, whilst also thinking a lot about how as an employee there, you can do little but stand behind the counter and smile. Day in, day out.

That had its own sort of horror element to it. I wanted to pursue that idea; you're trapped behind that counter for your shift. If a 7-8ft tall animatronic comes in and asks you if you know Michael Afton, with your coworker hiding behind the counter clinging to your ankle for dear life and shaking, you can't just turn on your heel or tell him to get out. Not without provoking something, whether it be an adverse reaction or his suspicions.

So you smile and you tell him no you don't. Its not your business to give out to customers. They don't need to know who works here or not, what time their shifts are at, any of that sensitive information.

After that, Vanessa comes in and sits with Sun, and they have a hushed conversation as Michael sneaks off to the back room and you continue the rest of the shift. Sun downs a coffee and finds it amusing when you seem startled, and Vanessa asks him to pay attention, and his only real response is to hushedly murmur about how they already know Michael is there so they have nothing to worry about.

As some people suspected, Sun is a wildcard. Vanessa plays the bad cop, and Moon is good cop. This is just naturally how their personalities worked out, and they play up to their roles.

Sun visits again the next day, and Mike is nowhere to be seen. You and Charlotte Emily are left to work behind the counter for a while, a faint amiable chatter all that settles your nerves as you wait for something to happen.

Henry Emily comes out just as Vanessa enters, and he tells them to leave and never return, they're not welcome here. Vanessa is angry with him, and says he was also part of it all, and if he lets this go now... and then she goes quiet, because they have an audience and she doesn't particularly want to talk about child murder in front of them all.

On the way home you pass torn posters - one reads 'Afton Animatronics. One in every home'. On the poster is a little girl with pigtails, showing how the robots are now advertised for childcare after the Pizzaplex burned down a few years ago (the first and only Fazbear establishment in this AU. A lot smaller than the one in Security Breach, although it still boasts a few attractions and its own Daycare). Still, a very faded poster nearby reveals the old star, Freddy Fazbear himself, smiling away in his tophat and bowtie.

You feel a sense of unease at the name and walk on until you bump into Moon, who kneels down and shows you a photo, asking if you really don't recognise anyone in the picture. You find it hard to not linger on the image, but Mike Schmidt hasn't changed - he looks less tired now, a little happier, a little less dead in the eyes and his mullet is a bit longer. Overall, though, the boy in the picture looks exactly like your coworker.

The other two kids are familiar too, somehow. The boy with short brown hair and, even in the photo, a light in his eyes, and a little girl with two pigtails and a big smile.

When Moon sees you looking, he tucks it away in his pocket and asks if you really don't recognise any of them, and you feel like you've stared for too long, so you have to say something. He tilts his head at you when your only response is that you recognise the girl, although you don't know from where, and he hums and stands, offering you a business card for Afton Animatronics. The number is scrawled out and a new one is written in its place.

You tuck it into your pocket and thank him with a hoarse voice, and he turns and walks away. Suddenly, you're taking the long way around to your apartment, something niggling in your mind about being followed, about not being safe. You close the door behind you with a whoosh of air and an audible click, sinking down against it.

Your breathing hasn't yet calmed when your phone rings, and you lift it and look at the caller ID, huffing out a sigh when you see it's Henry. You answer, and he's as warm as you as ever, asking if you got home safe and if you'd come in tomorrow for a talk. You reassure him, but your hands haven't stopped shaking when you hang up and head to bed, throwing your bag and phone down beside it and immediately closing your eyes.

The meeting is about personal safety. Henry asks if you want him to come get you for work and leave you back again when your shift is over, but you turn the offer down. Mike is there, and he offers you a tired smile, both grateful and concerned.

You start to choke a little. You'd always kept people a bit distant, but the people here were treating you like they treated each other; a tight knit family, a trusted group, someone they could turn to and who could turn to them too, if you ever needed to. Mike puts a gentle hand on your arm when he notices you shaking, and Charlotte curses out Moon, who she'd seen stop you yesterday on her way home.

And for the first time, you sit there and decide you'll really and truly try to help. More than just saying you don't know, you're not sure - you're going to defend this little family of yours as best you can, rather than running away and avoiding people, leaving no roots to pull when the time came.

This resolution stays strong for about a week. You don't see Sun, Moon or Vanessa anywhere in this time, until suddenly you're pulled into a little alleyway between two stores on your way home and you have to swallow down a scream as you look up at the three faces together.

Vanessa looks furious and at her wit's end as she lectures you, telling you what's happened so far; there are children dying, and they need Henry to listen, they need Michael home because he's the only person who could ever have enough information to stop it.

The word sours in your mind. Home. Something about it prickles and simmers and sets off a spark. You faintly remember something, two little kids calling after you, and a third standing off at the other end of the room, watching with a warm smile and dark brown eyes.

And then it's gone and you're just back in some damp alleyway with three tall figures hovering over you, and you start to choke up, and you say you have nothing to do with this but they need to leave people alone who want to be left alone.

Sun regards you with a proud smile, although it twists a little with some sort of desperation at the edges, whereas Moon merely tips his head forward and lets his hat fall over his eyes, watching on keenly whilst occassionally looking out over the street.

Vanessa keeps trying to pressure you, and after a bit your phone rings and you flinch. When you go to answer it, Moon mumbles about it being time to go, and the three slink off and leave you with your heart in your throat as you answer the call, unable to find the time to hide the shake in your voice.

You're bundled into Henry's car within 10 minutes, and he takes you to your apartment to pack up anything you need, and then takes you back with him to stay in a spare room in his house. You realise both Charlotte and Mike live here when they join you for dinner and Charlotte makes a joke about this being the Daydream Coffee house now.

The coffee is closed for a holiday after you inform them of what happened. Henry chides you for not telling him the first time Moon stopped you, and then he sighs and flicks the business card between his fingers, considering something. He rubs at his temples before picking up his phone, and the room goes silent as you hear the faintest edge of the ringback tone.

Henry talks to Vanessa in a gruff voice, not warm but not harsh either. He asks her what's going on, and his eyes widen when she answers, before his face darkens completely. After a very brief conversation, he glances around at the three of you still sitting at the table patiently, each wearing your own look of concern, and he hangs up and puts his phone down.

With his hands carefully folded in front of him, Henry tells you all what's happening; Vanessa thinks William (Henry glances at Mike when he says the name, and the latter pales but sits steady as he listens) is using his animatronics to kidnap children. She doesn't know why he's doing it, but she took the Daycare Attendants when the Pizzaplex burned down and acted like she was going to help him before running as far as she could with them to find help.

The information you all learn over the next few days isn't any more pleasant; whilst working for Afton, Vanessa felt nearly brainwashed. The Daycare Attendants speak of a similar symptom, although their own problem can be tied into something in their code. Still, the three of them say the feeling dissipated the moment the Pizzaplex burned to the ground.

Vanessa also describes being invited to the basement one day. There was something down there, some documents about testing. She talks about the way the animatronics reacted, as though they were alive and sentient. Beside each of their names in the files, there was something else...

Freddy had Gregory, Roxy had Cassie, Chica had Elizabeth, and Monty had Evan. There were other plans for more animatronics, and random names listed beside them. In the next room over, she could hear machines whirring and ticking. She remembers seeing a small hand, and then her vision went purple and she was back upstairs, unaware of what had happened at all.

Mike, beside you, looks like he's going to be sick. The names pry at your own brain too, and he looks over and suddenly there are tears in his eyes, and for some reason its you he wraps his arms around and holds as he starts to cry, shaking with the force of it. You hesitantly put your own arms back around him and pat his back, and something purple flickers at the edge of your vision.

Sun and Moon both watch as your memory crashes back down on you. The tears start flowing before you even realise what's happening, before the images stop playing through your mind, something about Mike tearing down a forceful purple wall and revealing what had been hidden behind it for years.

You're a child standing in a living room. Two little kids stand before you and laugh, showing off some toys their father had made them a few days before. At the other side of the room, Michael Afton beams and crosses his arms, watching on with a relentless fondness. You feel yourself smiling back.

And then your smile fades with a harsh crunch. You hadn't seen much, and you're so grateful for it. Michael, however, had seen everything in that moment. He was standing right there when the animatronic locked onto Elizabeth, and he immediately went to grab Evan away before the same could happen to him.

Unfortunately, he didn't quite make it in time. The 'malfunctioning' machines locked onto the children and you remember the harsh cacophany before a sharp, stinging silence. You remember covering your mouth and hiding, brain sparking with static and a ringing in your ears. You remember Michael falling to his knees on the ground. You remember being told time and time again that the basement was out of bounds and no one was to go in there unsupervised.

But, then again. Elizabeth had always been interested in the animatronics, and Michael only wanted to do something nice. Your ears pick up on his sobbing again now, back in the present, but your mind stays in the past, where the boy knelt silent as death itself until footsteps descended the stairs, and you peeked out around the corner and saw William Afton come to a harsh stop as he took in the sight, eyes slowly widening.

There would be no way to explain something like this. As an adult, you would have wondered why the door wasn't locked and why none of you were being supervised anyway. You would have wondered about where he'd suspected you'd gone; you were staying the night again, as you did most days. You wouldn't be far away from the scene, you wouldn't have left Michael alone with the younger kids. With your younger siblings, perhaps not by blood but by a bond of familiarity and comfort, by many evenings shared together when it was the only place in the world you felt safe.

That night the feeling would disappear forever. You don't remember what William said, but you do see the edges of his smile lifting now in your mind. The same man who would pat you on the head, watching as the endoskeletons creaked to life, purple flowing in their tubes as they readjusted to stand straight, warm bodies slowly growing cold as they fall to the floor and leave behind only metal and unmoving faces you could still somehow feel the fear from.

Chica, Elizabeth. Evan, Monty. Your throat is on fire. A tiny hand, unmoving and still. Were the two the first, or merely a step in the experiments Afton performed, trying to perfect his craft? You remember playing with Charlotte too, the little doll she had. Everything always matched so perfectly, Afton would always say. It was designed just for her, after all.

You half wonder if you would have been left wearing a metal shell, had William peered around the corners of his basement that day and found you. You wonder if he'd have dragged you back there screaming and kicking to keep you silent.

You weren't there for the funeral. You'd left town by then, after becoming disturbingly quiet and unresponsive, and things seemed to fade away the further you got from it all, until one day you woke up and you couldn't remember any of it at all.

Now, it hits you like a ton of bricks. Like an endoskeleton tightening its harsh metal jaws around your skin, your flesh, and clamping down until bone and all gave way. You're left reeling and dizzy, and look around the table, and Henry seems to know just what has happened, and he curses under his breath and suddenly your breathing is too loud and you know you're going to be sick.

The evening is spent recovering as people talk in hushed voices between other rooms of the house. You tuck up on the sofa, a cold hand on your forehead - after your memories, its weird that you feel safe under Sun and Moon's watchful eyes, the two taking turns to comfort you and Michael. They must have been good at their jobs when they were in the Daycare.

Time passes quickly, and its another few days before anyone really feels up to making much of a plan. Its a shoddy one even when it does form; exposing Afton with nothing less than complete proof wouldn't work. He was used to covering up scandals, and would do anything to protect his company.

However, Mike had been raised on it all. He knew secrets no one else ever would; even moreso than Henry, who'd been a cofounder at the time before he found out what was happening and took quite a large sum of money off with him and opened a café instead, intent to live out the rest of his days in some sort of quiet repentence, protecting anyone who survived the Afton family.

Sun and Moon are incredibly helpful too. They know their way around the animatronics and have all the leftover code from the Daycare. This also means they have some of the first trial code on capturing children to use, which is something admitted very reluctantly as Moon admits he doesn't at all remember if he ever actually helped.

They also know where the main stars are being kept, and think it would be a good start to break them out and get their assistance, especially as they may be able to locate a lot more proof. Mike frets over this; do they think they'd remember..? Sun shifts in his seat, his permanent smile cast in shadow as he looks down, and Moon artificially clears his throat and says there's a reason they knew so much about him.

Everyone is assigned roles, and you all work together tirelessly - one day you see Sun pat the coffee machines sympathetically and break out in a small smile - until things are in place. And then you're all bundled up between two cars and you're on the move.

Everyone tries their best to make the roadtrip less terrifying than it is; Charlotte takes photos of everything, Mike insists on trying a new drink at every rest stop, and Sun and Moon find new ways to sit constantly to try their best to fit into the car. Vanessa and Henry are the two drivers, and whilst Vanessa takes her job incredibly seriously with a white knuckle grip, you can see Henry trying to join in on the lighthearteded activities, although you often catch him with pinched brows and a distant look.

It gets quieter and quieter as you get closer, and once you pull into the city everyone falls silent. Memories lit up purple scratch at your skull, and when you look around everyone seems to have a similar headache (including Sun and Moon, who occassionally spit out a string of static or have to step away to release a high-pitched beeping sound and pre-programmed lines about cleaning the Daycare and washing our hands before we eat).

But you all survive, and you make it there and before you know it you're all about to break in to the latest small venue he's opened, where parents can bring their kids to pick out an animatronic for their home.

Things are going smoothly until you see William Afton himself, smiling and laughing and looking down at a child the same way he used to look at you, and this time you notice the edges to his expression, the sharpness to his smile and the way he looks at them like one would a prized obsession.

You know you need to get that kid out of there, but aren't sure how until you see one of their parents approach and then walk off in your direction. When they return with a tray of drinks, you decide it's now or never, and bump straight into them, sending everything clattering down the front of their shirt.

Apologies are stuttered out and you can see the fight to maintain their patience even as their grab their kid and promise to return another day, they need to get home and get changed now. You apologise again as they leave, and almost breathe a sigh of relief when you hear someone clear their throat behind you.

You turn and look directly up at William Afton, and your breath seems to leave your lungs all at once. There's a sweetness like grape candy on your tongue when you inhale, a sensation that begs your mind to just let go, to forget again, to be happy here with the Afton family.

Trying to shake it off and praying he doesn't recognise you, you mirror his smile and say you're here to pick out an animatronic. Something ticks away in his vision, but William puts a hand on your upper back and leads you to look at the latest models, asking if you had any preferences and if you had kids or it was just going to do the housework.

Its not easy to lie when you're still struggling to breathe, the sweet taste of the air catching in your dry mouth, determined to make its way into your lungs and settle there, to make itself at home once again. Purple flickers through your mind and you fight it back with all your might until your phone buzzes and you ask if you can go take the call for a moment. You make your way outside as though calm, talking cheerfully, but the moment you're out you book it straight over to Sun and Moon in the car, gasping for air.

Everyone is out. They've found enough - nothing is described to you, but you're sure it will be compelling. Henry wouldn't do anything that would fail.

After this point, the story would definitely diverge off into exposing Afton and watching as things crashed down around him. Y/N and Mike would get to meet Elizabeth and Evan again, although they're possessing the animatronics and will be freed in the process, allowing them to finally be at peace. They tell Mike they don't blame him at all, even after having all this time to think. Everything had been planned out by their father, anyway.

You continue to have a family in Henry, Charlotte, and Michael. It grows quickly - Sun and Moon are just animatronics, they're not possessed, and so they remain as they are. Vanessa moves in a bit away again, and Henry asks if she's finally ready to live her own life, and you see the relief flood her features as she finally relaxes. You later learn of how she's been working for William since she was a young teenager as Michael's replacement once he'd managed to gather enough to move away, with Henry's help.

Another series of cafés are opened, and Sun and Moon are your new coworkers - Daydream Café remains animatronic free to keep jobs available for humans who still want to work, but the location you're transferred over to (and end up opening, blushing furiously as you cut the ribbon and listen to cheers ring out) isn't, allowing the two to work alongside you. They learn very quickly and the lot of you become close as well.

You treat Mike and Charlotte as siblings, and Henry welcomes you to take on his surname if you want. Essentially, everyone just finally gets to live. Mike opens up an animatronic company soon after because people were starting to rely on them, and you watch as his outgrows anything William could have ever made with an overwhelming sense of pride.

And then the next day, you get to go make coffee with your two favourite animatronics again, and again, and again.

[side-steped]

I headcanon that Marcia finds out Tegan is a villain with some accidental help from Bo’s daughter.  Marcia babysits at the store sometimes, what else is Bo to do when the Boss calls an emergency meeting and there's no time to find a sitter and the ex wifes out of town? Marcia doesn’t mind, Bo’s a nice young man, just helping Tegan out in the warehouse. 

But an oblivious old woman and a curious child is a dangerous combination for anyone trying to keep a secret base. With Marcia distracted on the phone Bo’s daughter (does she have a canon name?) manages to accidently locate the secret entrance to the warehouse thru the back of the store. 

one jumpy villain, 4 bewildered henchmen and one terrified dad all turn in unison at the shrill exclamation of a child that is now in their base. The secret base. Whos security was breached....by a 6 yr old. Enter Marcia shortly after. 

Marcia’s surprisingly cool with it. Even she suspected what went on in the warehouse wasn’t entirely legal (and she gives me has had a husband or two disappeared vibes) so its nothing new to her. 

The crews happy they’ll get food from Marcia now. Marcia’s happy she gets to spend more time with them (shes a little lonely) and Tegan is absolutely seething. Hes gonna reup security measures 10 fold. That's gonna be expensive. Guess its time to get to work. 

[weonlyneedfour]

"My condolences to your vampire friend, little one." "Keep them. And don't call me that." "I am sincere. Human blood tastes revolting to the palette, to need it for sustenance must be truly humiliating. And you are little, as are all humans. But yes, Miss Ion, I’ve heard about the disaster at the auction in Toulonville." "Then you know why I'm here."

"You came to me because there were Tiger Gallery representatives at the scene, and your theory is that I was behind them, trying to attain the, "Gellar Meteor", yes?" "Let’s call it more a, currently polite guess, than theory. Someone had to send them there in enemy grounds with orders to engage if necessary."

"Yes, and to break regional agreements over some old trinket and pick a hopeless battle with the local agent, ridiculous. I have nothing I want in the country you fled to, Kartoshka, nothing but my wish for it to choke to death under the weight of it’s murderous greed. And for that, I merely have to wait, as I have the past century. I remain under confinement, as per our agreement. I have yet to break my end of our bargain."

"Yes, Tsar Tiger, always the gentleman, always the monster with a code, I know your script and I am not impressed by it. I’m not feeling patient enough this evening to take your word for it."

"I have nothing worth lying about. And you are no one worth lying to. What is the matter, can you not sense lies? See my soul, or feel the atoms around my heartbeat, perhaps? I'm sure you can think of something your abilities can do."

"You have no heart, Tiger." "Precisely." "And no soul either. You are nothing but a shell of fizzling contempt and violence where life should be. And if you don’t even have anything worth saying, I'll take my leave. The black hats of Toulonville brutalized my friend, I have no time to waste around you.”

"Tch, "black hat", you even sound like them now. But as is, if you want a name, the Vicars have discussed Professor Attila's latest pilgrimage to Arkansas. He is operating in America, and he takes an interest in the ancient and the arcane. He quite dislikes me, so he might have thought of hiring the Gallery to invade that auction and breach conduct in an effort to reach me."

"...I’m tracking Doctor Aurora's whereabouts. Her interest in weaponizing cosmic phenomenon marks her as a suspect. She joined up with you after I left the Rezina Circus, and I know you keep track of your associates even from here."

"Of course you know, but she was your acquaintance. If she wanted that meteor, she would have shown up in person to claim it, and brought her cosmo-tons with her, and she would have alerted you directly. I take it you must not be on speaking terms with your old clown troupe ever since you fled to America.”

“I’m not taking constructive criticism from a murderer.” “No, you're just chasing after one. I assume you don’t want to hear about Aurora, then.” “She eluded me in Belarus three days ago. If, if you know about her, where I can find her, stop her, tell me where she was last found….Please.”

“Tch, “please” is profane coming from you, don’t do that. Still, Aurora hasn’t been herself in quite some time, it’s possible she tires of the game, just as I did. All I know is that she’s on the run on her own, and she’s cut off contact with the Vicars and me. She might make an attempt to raid my base in Volgograd for supplies in the meanwhile. I suggest you head there. And getting back to that meteor, if my 86 years of experience mean anything to you, and they do because you are still trying to pry answers out of me, then I’ll offer this: it is far more possible that the auctioneer hired the Gallery to pose a front, to throw off suspicion on their own repurposing of the meteor. Had the agent Sangrier not arrived in the scene, he might have ordered the Gallery to assassinate all the other rogues in the audience, to have the American agents blame the Gallery while he breaks protocol without interference. If you want to play detective, you have three suspects now.”

“Four”.

“Yes, four. Suspect me as much as you wish, but you forget: My position in the Vicars of Hatred does not allow me to command the Tiger Gallery anymore, I haven’t issued direct orders to any of my peons for eleven years now. None have had the courage to outright replace me, but they do as they please ignoring the Vicar mandates. And the Beast Union, well, they've never quite obeyed me to begin with. No, Miss Ion, I had nothing to do with your friend’s accident. I’m afraid you missed my violent miscreant era by quite a few decades."

“Is that your way of threatening me?”

“I can do no such thing, no. But perhaps, if you hated me more, had your powers been developing faster, maybe you could be the one to finally kill me. Hrrn. A blessing that would be, no? We could have terminated our agreement sooner. You hold yourself back, and someone will kill you for it. You do not believe me, but as ally or enemy, I live to serve. I am simply lamenting what could have been. ”

“Then serve me by keeping your putrid tongue to yourself, Tsar Tiger. I am not your friend, nor another of your little projects. You deserve no forgiveness or respect. You are but one of a thousand ghosts trying to drag me into the pit of regret with them and I'm tired of it."

"Well, then don't say I didn't warn you. Hard as it may be to believe, I have always been very sincere in my attempts to help idiot children in hats and capes. I've spent decades hammering order out of chaos, putting vile agents in line, and I am bound to your suicidal lifestyles whether you want me there or not, so why don't you make this easier for the both of us and tell me, what else would you have me do?"

"On most days I would simply like you to fuck off and die. And if you can't do that, if I'm the next person your curse latched onto, I would like you to atone, for the lives you ruined, for the part you played in breaking the world, for everything you could have done of your life when you had the chance."

"And I'm giving you that chance, Tsar Tiger. You don't deserve it, but you have it. Help me, and I'll give you what you want."

"...impudent human brat. What makes you think you know what I want?"

"I know about Cadet Solarbolt. I know what you were trying to do together. It is the only reason I'm helping you."

"....."

"And when we’re done, I’ll help you see your own journey to oblivion myself. You can apologize to him, and the ghosts surrounding you, as much as you want then. I'm going to go find Aurora. Until next time."

....

“I’ll look forward to it then, little one.”

Tsar Tiger

Title: Tyrant Servant. Alter Ego: Sevastyan the Timber Tabby. Nationality: Russian tiger-human hybrid. Occupation: Crime Lord. Philanthropist. Blacksmith and lumberjack (formerly). Base of Operations: Volgograd, Russia. The Tiger Gallery and the Beast Union have members and associates around the globe. The Vicars of Hatred operate within Europe and parts of Asia. Likes: Solitude. Mementos he collects. Had a disco phase. Dislikes: Humanity. Back pain. Traveling by boat. Skill: Financial management. Intimidation. Warfare. Group affiliation: Founder of the Tiger Gallery. Leader of the Beast Union. Councilman of the Vicars of Hatred. 

Former partner of Cadet Solarbolt and The Solarbolt Family.

[side-shuffling-hyperfixations]

okay but now we need Peter Two mother-henning a sick Peter One and Peter Three 👀 :D

15. Hugging each other + 45. Feeling their temperature

Peter Three wished he could say Two was being silly. He wished he could wave it off as a change in the weather, allergies, anything other than the truly miserable bout of flu it was building up to be. He wished he could tell Peter Two that all of this fussing was unnecessary and unwanted.

But of course he would be lying. Sickness always had a way of swaying his state of mind and emotion far too easily. It usually came in two stages: firstly, the snippy and standoffish phase. He would take any less-than-positive interaction as a personal affront and square up for a fight, even if it was one he couldn’t win—or one that hadn’t been there in the first place.

The second, longer stage came when he was fully immersed in the ill experience: what the others had affectionately dubbed the “spider squid” mentality, wherein anyone in the immediate vicinity found themself with a sad, sullen, soppy Peter Three suctioned to them. Maybe it was the prickly, shivering sensitivity in his skin that his body mistook as a craving for comfort by proximity.

Whatever the cause, there was very little chance of escape once he got his arms around them. He was currently draped over Peter Two, sniffing in vain attempts to catch a whiff of the smoothie he had prepared on the counter. It couldn’t breach the wall of mucus in his sinuses.

“You may not be able to taste it but at least it’ll be nice and cool for you, huh?” Peter Two murmured, rubbing circles into Three’s back before pressing his palm to the back of his neck. “Mm, still too warm…Let’s get you tucked in and then you can sip on this while I make you a cool compress, okay?”

Three sniffed again, hoping it sounded no different from the others, cursing his stupid fever-brain for its tendency to threaten him with unanticipated waterworks at any available moment. “You already did,” he mumbled, guiltily grateful. “What haven’t you already done?”

No outsider would ever guess that Two had only assumed the role of an older brother in the past year. He had all but shot down Three’s standoffish phase in its tracks by being so infuriatingly soft and kind and considerate from the get-go—helping him peel off his sweat-soaked suit and tug on soft pajamas, always keeping his touch light so he wouldn’t exacerbate the aches. After making tea, rice and toast and deciding it wasn’t enough, he’d gone out to buy the fruits for this smoothie, ginger ale, popsicles and the typical array of medicines. He’d even changed the sheets and pillowcases on Three’s cot so they would be crisp and clean.

“MJ gets a lot of the credit for inspiring me. She spoils me rotten when I’m sick—although I suspect it’s just so she can make sure I stay in bed and actually rest,” Peter Two chuckled lightly, as if all his effort were nothing particularly noteworthy. “I’m just paying it forward. You deserve it.”

“N-No, I don’t…You’re just too good. You shouldn’t have to worry about me; y-you shouldn’t even be here. All this stuff you’re doing to take care of me, it’s just gonna wear you down and then I’m gonna get you sick too a-and Peter One and…”

“Hey, hey, shhh…all this worrying is gonna wear you down, buddy,” he soothed, already resuming the circles between his shoulders. “The only thing you need to worry about right now is getting better. If I can help, I will, and so would you. It’s what we do.” A brief shuffle across the apartment interrupted him and he looked up. “Hey, Peter One. Maybe keep that window cracked after you come in, please; Peter Three would probably appreciate some cool, fresh air.”

“Nnnh, d-do I have to? I feel f-freezing…” There was a hoarse whine in Peter One’s voice, followed by a few rattling coughs that he muffled in the crook of one shivering arm.

Peter Three lifted his heavy head to cast a resigned stare upon the youngest over his shoulder, while Peter Two accepted what he knew was coming with a small, firm nod.

“Close that, then, and come over here to the couch for a bit. Peter Three’s running hot at the moment; if he sits with you, he can warm you right up while I put your blankets in the dryer. We’ll get you changed and then they’ll be nice and toasty for you to climb in. Three, why don’t you have your smoothie while you wait with him? Remember, just small sips, and then I’ll make you another cold compress after I plug in his heating pad and put on the next pot of tea.”

As they were deposited onto the couch, the pair of sick spiders shared a glassy-eyed but no less amazed glance—a mutual awareness that they would owe Peter Two a lot of favors the next time he was in their shoes.

“…Take your time,” they said together.

[arithecreatorsstuff]

We Need To Talk About SCP 076-2, Or the Abel Protocol, Revised

Triggers: plotting, sarcasm, joke gifts, office humor SCP Foundation style

After the hottest shower I can stand, Iris and I get to work on the cookies. After about an hour, the last of the ginormous batch is cooling, I'm washing the dishes, and Iris is drying. It's terribly domestic, a nice change from the job. We take a moment to relax and sample our results like good scientists do.

"Gotta admit, I think I like baking with you. You know the best recipes." Iris is grinning.

"Believe it or not, my dad is the baker in my family. He works in a little bake shop back home. Folks come for miles for his cream puffs. He taught me a lot. I still suck at yeast breads though. Mine come out like paving stones. Pretty sure the next time someone gets smart, they might just get a Parker House roll to the noggin." We both laugh.

"If they're as tough as you say, that might just even take the fight out of Abel."

"Hey, nothing's perfect." I start boxing up Clef's share.

"We regret to inform you, all individuals involved with the SCP 076-2 incident are ordered to report to Doctor Martin's office in 15 minutes for debriefing. This is not optional, Doctor Clef." Figures. More boring office drivel.

"Should probably just bring the whole damn batch."

"There's like 6 dozen cookies, Rabbit."

"Think of it this way, Sis. We're about to be really popular."

"Being popular here is literally like being allowed to sit at the Cool Kids Table in the asylum."

"But with less chance of Keter Duty. I shot an anomaly. Life or death situation or not, I'm facing a month straight of it just for that. Plus, who knows what else for ordering everyone out. I broke the Rules. Now, let's get these boxed so I can face the music."

Cookies boxed, we head to Doctor Martin's. We're greeted by Clef and Bob, who takes a few of the boxes off my hands.

"The hell is in these things?"

"Let's just say Rabbit and I brought snacks. We agreed on two dozen cookies for Doctor Clef, but we kinda went overboard. Hope you like double chocolate chunk cookies." Bob does a double take.

"Wait... you shoot one of our angriest anomalies in the chest, then go bake cookies with Iris?" I nod. "You did shower first, right?"

I glare at him, and we walk in.

"Agent Rabbit. Heard you've been busy. And why all the boxes?"

"I thought since I fucked up I should try to bribe Site Command into leniency. Cookie, Doctor Martin?"

"Since 076-2 was out of control, you're not in as much hot water as you suspect. You're still on Keter Duty for a week, but it's largely a symbolic punishment from O5. However, I will accept the cookie." She opens the box, takes out a single cookie, and passes the box around. "That being said... we need to talk about SCP 076-2." Dr. Martin adjusts her glasses. "I'm sorry you had to shoot Abel, Rabbit. But, it wasn't your fault. It was Bob's for getting that close. From now on, unless training, testing, or he goes rogue, no one is to get near 076-2. Also, I think his quarters need a security upgrade. I want 50 caliber machine guns mounted at one end of his hall, enclosed in lucite. These guns are to be manned at all times. Can we get a laser grid too? Or is that out of budget?" One of the Accounting guys checks the figures and nods. "Laser grid, knockout gas... whatever it takes, we can't let 076-2 go off. Again. Agreed?" Everyone in the room nods. "Rabbit, Iris, you two are the closest to him. You're first responders if Abel breaches again. Talk before shooting. If everything goes south, you two just call. MTFs will be there in a minute. Okay, meeting over. One last thing, Agent Rabbit." Bob produces a white box, a bit bigger than a standard shoebox. He hands it to me. "Uh... Doctor Bright sent this for you. I'd be afraid to open it if I were you."

"Rabbit the Badass? She's invincible, Doc." Clef jokingly punches my shoulder. "Girl faces down dangerous enemies then bakes cookies. Truly a woman not to be messed with. Go on, open it."

I sigh, lean as far back as I can, and open the lid. No pranks... yet. Just white tissue paper. I reach in, and encounter something... fuzzy. Plushie fuzzy. I pull out a pair of white bunny slippers, and laugh like a lunatic. These are no ordinary bunny slippers. No, Jack Bright has given me the Killer Rabbit slippers from Monty Python and the Holy Grail. Iris sees them, and starts laughing too. There's a note from Dr. Bright.

"Heard about your exploits. These seem very appropriate, wear them in good health. By the way, nice one with the jelly beans. Hugs, Dr. Bright."

And the next day, 999 and I bring Dr. Bright a care package of cookies. I wore the slippers. They're really comfy, but a bit warm.

Author's note: I always wanted those damned slippers, just never found them.

[wentik0]

Interwoven within the grit of Night City,  neon lights and holographic peddlers hawk their presence like old haunts;   a koi fish spanning the size of a 12 foot monument flickers between megabuildings,  each pixel coloured a vibrant shade mimicking the real thing….  Once, maybe  -  it was a rarity to see one in the flesh.  They still can appreciate the view from underneath with their head craned upwards, lost in the detail of the holographic, they’ve seated themselves on a wooden bench just outside of Jig-Jig street.    It’s wednesday,  the weather is gloomy and only 15% of it is marked as acid,  so says the newscasters  —–  Newscasters talk of new optics just released from Kiroshi with the ability to scan at half the rate of its old model.

You wouldn’t find moments of zen within Night City, not if you are one of the Buddhists; all organic,  all self-righteous in their organic composition. Your optics ding at a nearby mark,  and all slotted biochips whir synapses awake and alert;   you’re no longer admiring the view, you’re waiting in plain sight.

Night City denizens are a cut above from the rest, especially when they’ve made this city of innovation its home;  no stranger was just a stranger, no one stopped to say hi,  how are you? 

[   ❛     that  price  on  my  head  ,  was  that  dead  or  alive  ?     ❜  ]

Angle in on Winnie, all pretense cut chrome and mean;  she smiles in kind. It doesn’t reach her eyes;  one forensic blue optic gleams neon for a milli-second and surveys the risk, and the prey.  

      ❛       This is beyond your value     ––       ❜   She admonishes,  head tilts in question and she remains unfazed;  prefers it actually,  the cut to the chase. 

      ❛       Or the NUSA would have never sent me.     ❜   Finally, they turn to @cyberpawn with a neutral regard;   as though they were casually meeting for a bite at the local dive. You’ve been through this too many times to count and you’ve lost all taste for the explanation of your presence and the titles you bear, the weight of who you were lies in mythologized grandeur.  They smile again, and it’s all teeth.

      ❛      I am not the enemy.     ❜    Records indicate that you are, just search their name in the scream sheets.

      ❛      But you,  Vale,   have every reason to be if you don’t live up to the standard the NUSA expects from you.      ❜     The preamble drones from them by rote and they’ve not moved an inch from where they stood.  If the other didn’t scan them for any outside interference, they may as well have been a doll;  a mouthpiece for someone bigger.  (   *   you’ve been granted certain luxuries only the top dogs can gnaw from,  the freedom to act however you will so long as you acted within the constraints of the contract. Nothing was sacred to them, but finishing the job?  Maybe that was.  )

 ❛        In just one year, you’ve dismantled a megacorp from inside out in ways the NUSA  suspect didn’t go unaided without …  help.   ❜    

You’ve read the reports,  you’ve been given the debrief and that part right there gave you the most pause;   Rogue AI’s have been nothing new to Night City, even at the growing rate of  Black Wall breaches. Arasaka has always been an a corp of innovation,  especially in the pursuit of immortality, in cheating death. The life cycle of Megacorps mattered little to the NUSA when they had the rest of the world to attend to.

EXCEPT VALE REEKED OF IT.  ( * Death? Immortality? )

 ❛         The price the NUSA offers is your life,  for the good of humanity,  at the cost of understanding the biochip slotted in your neural port.  Even now ...  it’s degrading into your prefrontal cortex,        ❜   Eyes narrow,  and she taps a Cyberfinger at her own neural port on the crook of her neck to signify she understood more than most and all she had to do was look at him.  The space between them closes;   a breach into the neural networks offered her a more clearer view than most others. The way their heart beats per minute, the way which neural input was activated, and which was not. Vale made for an interesting case, especially when their brain activity blared red off the charts.  

❛         We can give you your life back,  Vale.        ❜

[ladysternchen]

Yet Were Its Making Good, For This- Part Two- Made New

(Author's notes: Folks, this last two chapters might be overdoing the fix it and ruin the entire story. So if you feel the last chapter I posted was a fine ending, please leave it there and just don't read this chapter and the next and consider the story finished) The gardens of Lórien were always beautiful, no matter the weather, but this day they seemed to Mablung like the most beautiful place in all of Arda that ever was or would ever be. The leaves of the trees were rustling in a slight breeze, Melian’s birds were chirping and insects were humming, the little brook that ran close by murmured like Esgalduin had done in ancient times and the sweet smell of warm grass filled their secluded clearing.  

It had been a little over two years since his life had changed forever, two years since he had left the shores of the sea, two years since he had talked to his kin. He missed them, yes, and looked forward to seeing them again when the time was ripe, but there was no rush. They had time, after all, all the time in the world- and that in itself seemed the most wonderful thing. 

Almost as wonderful as the new era of his life that had just begun- an era he had never -ever- anticipated.

He smiled as the little bundle in his arms stirred, one minuscule foot extending from its soft blanket as the tiny baby within stretched. Mablung quickly covered the foot once more, then looked over to his husband, who mouthed:

“Is she waking up?”

Mablung moved his head from side to side in a way that meant to say: “Not sure. Maybe.”

Thônwen, who cradled the other twin, lifted his blanket a little, too, but quickly shook her head. 

“Still sleeping, and still blue.” she stated in a low voice.

Mablung and Elwë exchanged a quick look and turned away again to prevent themselves from bursting out laughing. Maybe that whole affair was in truth not as funny as it seemed to them now, but filled to the brim with the joy of welcoming brand-new babies into their family, they both found it hilarious. 

Of all the adventures that Mablung had undertaken in his life, that of bringing those two children into the world had by far been the most nerve-wracking and marvellous, even if his part in it had been to mostly watch, and be a shoulder to lean on whenever Elwë and Melian had needed it. And they had needed it, desperately needed it. That they both longed to be parents again had been obvious from the start, and also no surprise. Mablung had spent enough time with Melian since the changing of the world to know how deeply her heart ached whenever she happened to see a mother with her young, regardless of species; and that Elwë wanted nothing more than to be a father was no news, either. 

They had talked about it from the start, whether they dared try the impossible again, dared to repeat what had already been deemed a breach of each and every rule there was the first time around. In the end, they had taken the matter to the Máhanaxar -with Melian continuously grumbling about how it was none of her kin’s business what she did or did not do with her husband- and been granted leave right away. Mablung strongly suspected that the Valar had been so very obliging in that matter because they knew all too well what unbearable pain they had caused by changing the rules for Lúthien. That pain they could not assuage, but they could at least grant Melian and Elwë the chance to give new meaning to parenthood, to fill that role with something other than their ever-present grief.

But while it had not been the greatest surprise to Mablung that Elwë and Melian wanted to try for another child, it had come as a huge surprise that they had both been adamant that Mablung was to be a part of it if he wanted. A year had passed since that evening and he still felt just as deeply honoured and humbled and grateful as he had done then. True, that did not make the twins his own- despite somehow, it did. Elwë had probably best put it when he had told Mablung that this was a simple matter of co-parenting- these were his children, Mablung was his husband, Melian was fine with it, no more discussion needed. 

Mablung smiled to himself. He had always loved this special kind of pragmatism in Elwë.

And so he had watched Melian’s belly grow, watched Elwë stroke his babes through her skin and muscle, listened to him sing softly to them, which Mablung had found to be adorable. Being a father had probably always been the most natural thing for Elwë and ever since he was allowed to be that again, a huge change had come over him, something Mablung was incredibly grateful for. But apart from the effect it had on Elwë,  that pregnancy had also sealed the bond between Mablung and Melian once and for all. It was easy, really. Ridiculously easy, given that a relationship such as theirs was virtually unheard of. But then, that was an occupational hazard of being around Melian- she had always done things her way, not caring at all about customs or other people’s opinions. But she did the things her way so gently and with such kindness that it was neigh on impossible to not love her. So it had been when she had been Doriath’s fabled Queen, so it was now.

A tender warmth grew in Mablung’s chest as he now surveyed Melian, who slept soundly in Elwë’s arms. He loved her deeply in so many ways- with none of them being even remotely romantic, which was precisely the way they both wanted it. She regarded him as something close to a sibling, Mablung knew, and he was very much fine with that, so there really was nothing complicated to living this life. Not now, anyway, and whatever came in the future they would figure out then. 

He felt the presence of Elmo and Beleg before they made themselves known, and he turned to greet the newcomers, with Elwë and Thônwen doing the same. 

Unlike with her pregnancy with Lúthien when she had insisted on being alone with her husband, Melian had wanted her sister-in-law with her this time around, and so Elmo and Thônwen had spent the past months with them in Lórien. Only when both Melian and Thônwen had been sure that the birth of the twins was imminent had Elmo left them again, to bring tidings to that inner circle of people knowing of Elwë’s return. Elmo had taken on that task gladly, and Mablung was sure that it really filled him with glee to make already spectacular news even more dramatic, just for the joy leaving his ‘victims’ utterly flummoxed.

Thônwen, Elwë and Mablung meanwhile had stayed with Melian to help her in any way they could, but that had proven quite unnecessary. Whether it had been coincidence that her first labour had been so difficult for her, or the fact that Melian had had even less of an idea of what to expect from birth than any other new mother had the first time around, her second time giving birth was nothing like it. She mastered everything beautifully, and though there was no such thing as the famous blossoming of Niphredil at Lúthien’s birth, the moment still had a magic that Mablung would never forget. 

Only when their son had almost been born had Mablung realised that they were not alone in their secluded clearing, but that Lord Irmo and Lady Estë stood silently by the edge of the trees, watching.

If one was being nice, one could say that they had just wanted to be there for Melian’s sake, who was so very beloved by both of them. Indeed, that was certainly true for Estë, and while Irmo, too, might have been there to support Melian and watch this particular miracle unfold within his realm, Mablung felt sure that he had also come to savour his little jest. As it had been night, they had not at once realised that something was off with the firstborn twin, but even the darkness could not hide the fact that the second twin -their daughter- had antlers. Melian had taken one look at her newborn babes and rounded on Irmo with a sound that would have done every angry cat proud, long before it had even dawned on Mablung that the Lord of Lórien had indeed tempered with the children. He had never worked out whether Irmo had a certain amount of control over reproduction within Lórien in general or over Melian in particular, only that somehow, he had made sure that those children would never pass as normal elves. Irmo had not even tried to deny that he had had his hand in the twins unusual appearances but had laughed instead and claimed that those two would have been indistinguishable from their parents otherwise.

This had not gone down well with Melian. Not even a little bit.

Dishevelled and bleeding from just having given birth she had raged at Irmo, who after a while had had the grace to appear somewhat abashed, especially as both Thônwen and Estë herself had been with Melian on the matter. Both had scolded Irmo as well, though they had had to work hard to hide their grins all the same, just as Elwë and Mablung had. Blue and antlered or not, the babies were adorable, and Melian’s rage quite clearly not about their appearance at all. Mablung had thought at first that this was about Irmo undermining her decision to live as an elf while Arda lasted, but soon it had dawned on him that there had to be more behind it, for not even at the downing of Númenor had he seen her so beside beside herself with rage.

Only when Melian had finally stumbled with exhaustion had Elwë handed their little daughter to Mablung and walked over to his wife to wrap his arms tightly around her not a moment too soon, for as soon as she was securely held, Melian’s knees gave way. Their mirth turned to pity, Estë herself had taken it upon herself to gently wash Melian, while Irmo had eased her to sleep with apologies and words of love, and then Elwë had hoisted her up once more and carried her to their camp. He had not let go of her for a moment ever since. 

Elmo and Beleg had by now walked over to them and put the large package they had been carrying between themselves down on the grass. While Elmo greeted all of them by walking silently around them all, kissing his wife and brother on the head before kneeling down next to Mablung to hug him, Beleg just let himself collapse on Mablung other side, staring in disbelief at Elwë. 

“I didn’t believe Elmo, I really didn’t. I thought he was playing some trick on me. Honestly, will you never stop leaving us all baffled? Ever? Two years we hear nothing of you, or Melian, or Mablung, and then you send Elmo to find me with such news?”

Elwë grinned rather guiltily, and Mablung chuckled quietly, too. He knew Beleg well enough to see how moved he truly was, both by the news of the babies existence and the fact that he, though not strictly speaking a member of the family, was granted to be here now anyway. Mablung therefore reached out and softly patted Beleg’s back- he had dearly missed his best friend as well.

“Olwë and Círdan are beside themselves and really wished they could have come here with us, but they can’t get away from the festival without telling everybody why.” Elmo told his brother quietly. 

Of course, Mablung thought. It was the time of the great annual festival of Alqualondë, celebrating Ossë and Unien first teaching the Falmari the art of shipbuilding, and naturally neither Olwë nor Círdan could excuse themselves from that very well. He smiled as he thought about how the ships must look now, adorned with multi-coloured ribbons and little flags, sailing out of the harbour and nightfall. It was always a sight to behold.

Elmo tucked him back from his reminiscing as he went on:

“Olwë sends you this in the meantime though, and tells me to inform you that each and every child of the royal house of Alqualondë has slept in there, so you might find it fitting for yours.”

With that, Elmo pulled the fabric that had covered the parcel off and revealed what appeared to be a miniature swan-ship, though Mablung of course knew it to be a cradle, meant to be hung from the ceiling or a tree.

“This is… I don’t know what to say. It’s beautiful…” Elwë managed to mutter, blinking the tears away that threatened to spill from his eyes.

Elmo just laughed and ruffled through his brother’s unusually untidy hair.

“Now that we settled that, will you get up and introduce us properly to the twins?”

“Aye, if you will content yourself to let me do that lying down, or else you wait until Melian is awake. But I don’t want to wake her, which I’d certainly do if I tried to move now.”

Elmo frowned, apparently only now taking a proper look at his sister-in-law.

“Is Melian alright? She looks…”

“…terrible.” Thônwen finished Elmo’s sentence for him. “Quite. Don’t you lot dare to wake her for anything other than a hungry baby, she needs rest. That stupid joke of Irmo’s really really upset her.”

“What joke?” Beleg asked, and so they explained about the Vala’s tempering with the twins appearance. 

“It’s not truly Irmo who so upset her.” Elwë said at last, his arms still firmly around his wife’s still form “I mean, it’s not like… Lúthien looked like a normal elf. Elves don’t usually glitter like the wings of butterflies, nor can they use their hair as a cloak of invisibility. No, Lord Irmo’s jest was really only an outlet for all the grief and pain she has carried with her all those long years. She is terrified to love a mother’s love again, to… to be again so vulnerable. She’s terrified that something might happen to them as well, and… and probably this also feels like a betrayal to Lúthien’s memory to her, like we’re replacing her. Melian coped so well for so long, while I went to pieces and robbed her of the only possible source of comfort. But I will not let her down like that ever again.”

A sorrowful silence followed his words until Thônwen broke it, saying:

“And none of us would have expected anything less of you, brother. But now stop keeping Beleg and my poor husband on tenterhooks and let us show them the twins.”

Elwë smiled gratefully and caught Mablung’s eye. An unspoken agreement passed between them, and so Mablung carefully placed their daughter in Beleg’s arms, who looked quite surprised to be actually handed the tiny baby, and even more so when he realised that she was looking back at him with bright grey eyes, and be it a little puzzled. 

“Uh, it’s been a while since I held an elfling so young. But oh, look at you.” he cooed “So many people here to meet you on the very day of your birth, huh? Oh, but aren’t you just as stunningly beautiful as your sister?”

Beleg looked up at Elwë for a moment, adding:

“You know how to make them, don’t you?”

Everyone chuckled at that remark, and Elmo reached out to tenderly stroke his little niece’s black hair, careful not to touch the two horns that grew from her scalp above her still folded ears.

“Didn’t those antlers hurt Melian?” he asked, but Elwë shook his head.

“No. She was the second twin, and she came out bottom first and still in caul. But I doubt she would have done anything to Melian even had she been head down. The horns are quite soft, and bending them doesn’t seem to bother her at all.”

“So, that was ladies first.” remarked Thônwen, who carefully rose and placed the second baby in Elmo’s arms “But now meet her brother, too.”

“Well met, little one.” Elmo said huskily, gently kissing the baby’s silvery head. “You look just like your Ada. Just as much as your little sister looks like your Nana. I must say, I can’t argue with Irmo’s reasoning.”

“He looks like you did under the starlight of Cuiviénen, when we had no true colours.” Beleg told Elwë. “And I tell you, you do just as well with the boys as with the girls. They are both gorgeous.”

“Are you just now paying me a compliment, Beleg, or making fun of me?”

“I was paying your children a compliment. And teasing you at the same time. A little bit.”

Everyone chuckled, and maybe it was that which aroused Melian, for she stirred feebly.

“Elu?”

She was the only one who had kept with the Sindarin form of Elwë’s name, which Mablung found well-fitting. The using of this name belonged to her alone.

“I’m here, beloved. It’s alright. I’ve got you. You’ve been so brave, and so strong and I am so immeasurably proud of you.”

“The babies?”

“They’re alright. Elmo and Beleg are here and they are as smitten with them as they should be. And before their arrival the little ones were cuddled by Mablung and Thônwen. Do you want to try and feed them? Our girl is awake and I reckon it won’t be long before she’ll start complaining.”

Melian nodded, so Elwë supported her into a more upright position and took his daughter from Beleg to handed her on to his wife. The moment she was in her mother’s arms, the little girl started nuzzling her breast. Thônwen sighed.

“Galadhon gave me sores all over because he was so eager to get his milk that he would suckle on my skin rather than my nipple. Watch that one, she’ll be just the same, I tell you.”

“Lúthien was very good in that respect.” Melian muttered wearily and wincing slightly as the little girl at last started drinking. “But she was just as… ouch! enthusiastic. Oh darn, I forgot how much that hurts. I thought it gets easier with every child?”

“New body, I’m afraid.” said Thônwen and Elwë in unison, and this time even Melian smiled a little. 

“So how do I feed both of them?”

Mablung shifted closer to Melian and took the boy from Elmo as well. He had watched his mother feed two babies for two years straight, so this was at least a little bit of valuable advice he could give.

“We have enough hands here, so I think it’s easiest to try and give him the second breast as soon as she’s securely latched. One child per breast, don’t swap. Or at least my mother never got tired of telling everyone of the one time she tried and deeply regretted it. I have no idea what there is to that rule, though.”

Melian again smiled and Elwë helped her put their still sleeping son to her breast as well,  but found that he needed far more guidance than his little sister.

“Come on, little one. You must be hungry as well.”

It took them quite a while to get him to wake up properly, and even more time to get him to latch in a way that was comfortable for everyone. 

“Great. So we have the next fussy eater. Did you have to present us with just such a perfect copy of yourself, Elwë?”

The latter stuck his tongue out to Thônwen, before changing the subject in a very obvious attempt to retaliate. 

“As we talked of Galadhon earlier, how long do you plan to keep him in the dark? He will be mad at us, you know that?”

“Then he should have learned how to keep secrets.” Elmo chuckled. “But I promise I’ll go get him as soon as everyone is settled into their new roles. Have you names yet, by the way?”

“No. And we are in no hurry, either. I thought, maybe… to honour the Mortals in our family and give them names in the fashion of the Edain, something that honours both Beren and Túrin”

Melian looked up at her husband in surprise, before a smile spread over her face, lifting some of the exhaustion off her features.

“Oh Elu… I’d love that. And Lúthien would have loved it and I’m sure Dior would also really appreciate it.”

Beleg turned to Mablung with a look that mirrored his emotions quite clearly and Mablung answered by hugging him tightly, and nodding at Elwë over Beleg’s shoulder.

“Best idea you’ve had today, my love.”

[hpdabbles]

Can u do an identity reveal of Harry from 'how to break a timeline ', potters or Reg noticing how similar bby Harry (as he grows) looks to our Harry, how bby Harry instantly calms down with Harry nearby. No pressure to write tho, I'm just too invested in it😅

Regulus always wondered about his husband's past. He hasn't learned anything about it, even after all the years they have been married.

Their tenth anniversary was next week, and he still did not know Harry by anything but his married name. Though privately, he always suspected it was Potter. His love looked far too much like the Potters to not be one.

Harry is redundant to speak about his past, but Regulus knows if he asked, Harry would tell him. He just...never found the time.

The war took first priority because their marriage had been built on Harry needing a legal way to take down Voldemort. Then it was stabilizing the family's image without taking credit for the Dark Lord's defeat- apparently, Harry claimed nothing good could come from being famous for taking down the dark lord.

After that, it was fixing his relationship with his brother, rebuilding Uncle Alphard's company, and finally caring for his brother's godson.

They stayed busy, Harry like a hurricane moving from one place to the other with no warning and leaving chaos in his wake. Regulus followed him everywhere, awed by his husband and falling just a little deeper in love every time.

To try and tie someone like that down by something as unimportant as a mysterious past would be a crime.

It hardly matters to Regulus on most days, being too darn happy with his love, but he will admit his Slytherin mind kept him wondering at night.

He had some theories.

Harry is an illegitimate Potter child. Hidden by his muggle mother to protect him from his magical family. Maybe she thought they would hurt him even though the Potters were known for supporting such children.

Harry is a Seer. He saw what would happen, but unlike most seers, he didn't believe in letting things be. Harry would carve his own future. He also seemed to know far too much, even if he claimed he had always been able to figure out secrets.

Harry is the Dark Lord's son. His Parselmouth appearance and magic were similar to Voldemort's. Again he knew far too much to not have a fair warning of how Voldemort worked.

Harry is magic personified. His husband is a wonder in far too many ways not to somehow be a blessing of magic. Magically powerful, beautiful, intelligent, and confused by humans' customs. Harry stumbled a lot over slang used by his fellow humans, and some mannerisms made his nose wrinkle.

He had never spoken about these theories with Harry; somehow, they felt both too personal and unimportant to breach the subject with him. But Regulus watched, recorded what he saw, and then filed the evidence for each theory deep within his mind.

Regulus leaned more toward theories two and three for various reasons. The more he got used to Harry, the more he felt that his husband lived in a different time.

Little references to things that did not exist, only to be surprised when they are introduced to the world a year or two later, made-up slang that grew popular but not by Harry, and sometimes just actions that made Regulus feel like there was a generational gap between them despite Harry insisting on his age being the same as Regulus.

"Love, can I ask you something?" Regulus whispers, careful not to be too loud least he wakes Little Harry.

If someone would have told him ten years ago that Regulus would regularly be babysitting for James Potter, he would have laughed in their face. Now he is mindful of the ten-year-old comfortably snoozing on his husband's chest. The child had fallen asleep while Harry read to him the story of the Mask Hero, defeater of He Should Not Be Named.

Harry's bright green eyes swing to him from over the little head with a raised brow. "Hmm?"

For a moment, Regulus forgets why he called out to him, suddenly struck by the image of his husband cuddling a child that could be a miniature copy of him, and he wonders if they should try for a child soon.

Harry could carry, or they could adopt. Regulus would be happy with either.

"What's up Regs?" Harry asks in that strange but endearing way of talking.

"Would you like a child?" He blurts without meaning to and has the pleasure of watching his normally hard-to-tease husband turn bright red.

"Wha-what brought this on?" Harry asks while carefully retucking the blanket around Little Harry more. Regulus' heart skips a beat.

"I just realized that you would be a great father. You act like one already to Little Harry, knowing what he needs, what makes him happy, and you two look so alike it isn't hard to picture-!" Regulus snaps his mouth shut as his words register in his mind. "You look alike. Your magic is the same....Merlin...Harry, are you Little Harry?!"

There is a pause where the two stare at each other. The fire in the fireplace cracks in silence, and only Little Harry's tiny mumbles- he sleeps talks- could be heard. His question hangs in the air, choking him in suspense as suddenly everything makes so much sense, but at the same time, nothing does.

Suddenly Harry grins, mischief and death dancing around his lips, and Regulus falls again. "You really are the brightest wizard of your time. Yeah, Regs, I'm Harry Potter from an alternative time Line."

Regulus chuckles nervously, and then his eyes roll back into his head. Harry's urgent call of his name is the last thing he hears as he gives into his shock and falls unconscious.

Life is never dull when Harry Black- apparently nee Potter is around.

[waywardstation]

WIP WEDNESDAY

Apologies for getting this out so late today! Have been busy preparing to move back to uni, and visiting friends and family while I can ^^;

Another WIP for HFBE, and hopefully the last for this chapter. I’m hoping to have it ready for beta reading by tomorrow ^^

————

“Follow my tracks,” Ingo instructed Akari as he pulled ahead of her and breached the edge of the tallgrass, which reached up past his waist. “so that we do not accidentally disturb any Pokemon resting within the field. This is a common station for Luxio and Luxray to traverse.”

And so Ingo started making his way through the waving grass, making sure not to step on any obscured tails flopped on the ground, or trip over any splayed out legs hidden from view. Akari followed behind, occasionally glancing around to see if she could spot any jagged black manes, or large round ears poking out above the swaying sea of yellow. She reached out and touched the fronds as she moved through them, taking note of how the approaching winter had given the blades a drier, scratchy quality that tickled her fingertips.

Akari itched her hand idly before a bout of sudden, tempered rustling disturbed the grass off to their side. In a moment, Ingo had moved to face the possible electric beast he had expressed caution over, hand tight on a pokeball. Shrill screeching and blustered flapping of wings revealed a staravia a moment later, bursting from the tallgrass into the sky with a hissing paras squirming in their grip.

“Ah, simply a departing staravia.” Ingo let out a sigh of relief as he tilted his cap back out of his eyes, tucking his pokeball away.

Akari, however, was surprised with how fast Ingo had reacted to the situation.

It wasn’t that it was uncharacteristic of him - quite the opposite, in fact. When initially getting to know Ingo, right at the start Akari had noted how he was rather quick to adjust to dangerous situations, and very attentive of his surroundings (which didn’t surprise her as she became better acquainted with him; with how often he went on about the safety of others and ensuring security, she suspected his not-quite-clear pre-Hisui job had trained him to be especially attentive of it).

This was a normal reaction from him. But it took seeing such a normal reaction for Akari to realize that for the past week or two…things hadn’t been quite up to par.

Yesterday, he certainly hadn’t acted as fast when he discovered that sneaky gligar attempting to steal berries out of Lady Sneasler’s basket while they were all gathering. And a few days before, she had felt his reaction times were slightly delayed when calling out moves during a battle at the training grounds. It was nothing severe or concerning of course; he just seemed a little distracted in comparison, which is why she didn’t dwell on it. Until now, that is, being reminded of how quickly Ingo usually reacted to things.

Only after a good meal had he seemed to be more responsive, and less lethargic.

[charles-rxwlands]

lay all your love on me

okay!! so this is my fic for @magpiencrow's 1.2k writing challenge.

this is based off of the song lay all your love on me, slowed, by putin

pairing: nikolai/reader

rating: general

tags: gn!reader w/ gn pronouns, fluff

summary: falling in love with nikolai lantsov told through several vignettes

or: mindless nikolai/reader fluff with a alina and ivan being little shits

warnings: right off the bat there's a nightmare about drowning in the ocean, and there's one (1) swear word at the end, but other than that, there's nothing

word count: 4.1k

read on ao3

constructive criticism, feedback, and reblogs are greatly appreciated !

I haven't written anything in a while, so i may be a bit rusty, but please enjoy :)

You were drowning, and also pretty damn sure you were going to die out here. Your lungs were on fire, screaming for air, but you couldn't emerge from the ocean for long enough to suck in a breath. Sure, your hand or head breached the surface every now and then, but a wave would come crashing down on you immediately after, destroying all your progress.

      The undulating waves threw you around like a football - a very pathetic one, at that. As hard as you tried to fight the current, it still insisted on moving against you (stubborn bastard), so really you weren't going anywhere. Just pathetically bobbing around in the same pathetic place. You couldn't feel your limbs - the only thing you could feel was the agonising ache in your chest. It was as if your arms and legs had frozen over along with your will to live.

      How easy it would be to just... 

...let the ocean take you...

      Suddenly, someone grabbed you by the wrist. You screamed, which was a mistake; immediately, salty seawater filled your mouth, making you gag and choke. Nevertheless, you valiantly tried to release yourself from whoever - whatever? - had their hold on you. 

      "Y/n, Y/n! Relax, darling, relax," a voice said, sounding out of breath. "It's me."

      You whirled your head around. Sagging with relief, you gasped out the name of your saviour. "Nikolai."

      "Yes. Yes, Y/n, my love, it's me. It's Nikolai," he soothed, running his hands over your wet hair.

      "Nikolai," you breathed. "Nikola-" - a wave reared up on its hind legs, ready to come crashing down onto your friend, ready to take him away - "no, no, Nikolai, NO-!"

   

You startled, eyes flying open. You were shaking like a leaf. Were you cold, or was it just the adrenaline from the nightmare still making its course? You shook your head as if to rid your mind of the dream. It wasn't real. Nikolai had saved you that night. It was fine. It wasn't real.

      But it could very well have been real, a traitorous voice in your mind whispered. Scowling, you cursed your pessimistic side. Even if a wave had separated you two, Nikolai would have fought tooth and nail to get to you again. You would have done the same. After all, you were childhood friends, and you knew better than anyone that Nikolai didn't let go of his loved ones so easily.

      He hadn't wanted you to accompany him on his journey overseas as Sturmhond. You insisted otherwise, channeling some of Nikolai's stubbornness that had rubbed off on you. ("You're not getting rid of me that easily, idiot. So let me come, unless you want me to steal your kneecaps."). 

      A half-smile appeared on your face as you thought back to the memory. Slowly, you got up from your bed. Your blanket was draped over your shoulders. You slipped out of your cabin quietly, walking down the hallway until you found yourself in front of Nikolai's room. He stirred in his sleep when you entered. The door creaked slightly, but it didn't seem like his distress was because of the noise.

      You sat on the edge of his bed. Nikolai, previously facing away, turned over to face you. His eyes were still screwed shut, eyebrows knitted together and an unhappy expression on his face. You frowned. 

      "Nikolai." you nudged him gently. "Wake up. You're okay, just wake up. It's just a dream."

      He opened his eyes, blinking at you. "Y/n?"

      "Hi," you said. A lock of golden hair fell over his forehead, and upon instinct, you reached to brush it away. He let you, not uttering any of his usual complaints. 

      "You were gone," he mumbled, undoubtedly referencing his nightmare. "I- I couldn't save you, and you were gone." 

      You shifted into a more comfortable position - your whole body was on the bed now, with your back against the headboard. He leaned his head against your chest, and you ran your fingers through his hair. "It wasn't real. It's okay. You saved me - I'm not going anywhere, 'Lai."

      "Me either," he agreed, wrapping his arms around your middle. A beat of silence. Then, "Thank you."

      You were more than content to fall asleep like this. Even if it meant waking up with an ache in your neck. Judging from the way he was curled up, practically drinking in your presence, Nikolai felt the same way.

      What a feeling it was to have found solace in Nikolai Lantsov, and to know he had found solace in you, too.

· · ─── ·𖥸· ─── · ·

Nikolai's pov

Nikolai watched from the corner of the ballroom as you laughed at one of Ivan's jokes. One would say that he was scowling, but the Prince of Ravka didn't scowl. No - he was simply observing your conversation with the Heartrender with visible distaste. He was not scowling. And he was not jealous.

      You and Ivan were smiling at each other, standing by the refreshments table, mouths moving quickly, the both of you obviously interested in whatever you were talking about. You threw your head back in a laugh. You looked gorgeous. Nikolai wanted to make you laugh like that - more than he wanted to admit.

      The last straw was when Ivan lay a hand on your shoulder, and then snaked his arm around you. You didn't seem perturbed by his touch - no, actually, you leaned into it. He bent down to whisper something in your ear that made you duck your head in embarrassment and lightly hit his chest. 

      Nikolai's glare deepened, if that were even possible. Okay, fine, maybe he was jealous. Did he even have the right to be jealous, though? It wasn't as if he was dating you, as much as he'd like to be.

And oh boy, he'd like to be. 

      Suddenly, Alina appeared at his side, seemingly out of thin air. He flinched. "Alina." 

      The girl in question had a mischievous look in her eye. Her hands were clasped in front of her, the long, flowy sleeves of her dress falling just past her wrists. The bottom half of her gown was a sparkly gold, whereas the top half was a dark blue. The two colours faded into each other at the middle, creating a gradient effect. It was a beautiful dress. You had helped Alina pick it out yourself, if he remembered correctly.

      "Hello, loverboy." she poked him in the side, grinning knowingly. "How's your crush on Y/n going for you?"

      "I don't have a crush on them, Alina, for Saint's sake."

      "Oh, is that so? You do seem... ah, what was the word... utterly whipped for them, contrary to what you just said," she said, tilting her head to the side, feigning innocence.

      "Am not," he argued. "I-," Nikolai paused, taking notice of you and Ivan walking past a couple metres away. Unfortunately, you were too engrossed in your current conversation to notice him. His eyes lingered on you. He only looked away when you disappeared back into the throng of people. 

      Alina let out a triumphant 'ha!'. 

      He directed his attention back to her and glared. "Alina, I swear-,"

      "Utterly. Whipped," she mouthed.

      "I will behead you," he threatened.

      She laughed. "In all seriousness, I really don't think Y/n and Ivan like each other like that," Alina said.

      "Well, of course not," he agreed. "Y/n very clearly has eyes for me. I can't say I blame them - who could resist all this? Everyone's all over me, as I'm sure you've noticed." 

      Alina stared at him pointedly.

      "Ah, except for you, of course. You seem to be the only one immune to my charm and charisma. An odd one, you are."

       She rolled her eyes. "Why do I even bother," she groaned. "Just swear to me that you'll tell Y/n you like them soon. Within a week. Swear on... your dignity."

      "My dignity?" Nikolai drawled.

      "Yes, your dignity, because if you don't fess up soon, I'll have to tell Y/n about your crush on them myself," she grinned smugly, and darted off before Nikolai could retort. 

      He sighed. As he saw it, he had three options:

      1. Blackmail Alina (because of course she wouldn't give in to simple bribery)

      2. Get on his knees and beg Alina to not tell you of his massive crush (there! he admitted it; he had a massive crush on you! One that he'd been harbouring for just over a year now, too)

      3. Listen to Alina, and confess on his own terms

      All three were mortifying, and things he absolutely didn't want to do. However, the last was considerably easier to do, and came with the most benefits and the least consequences. You had already seen him through his most embarrassing moments (and he through yours) so even if you rejected him, the humiliation would be minimal. 

      And maybe he wanted to confess. And maybe there was hope that you liked him back. Nikolai wasn't stupid - he knew when people fancied him. He suspected you liked him back, but then again, that could've been wishful thinking, or maybe he was misreading the entire thing.

      He didn't even understand why he was so jealous of the way Ivan and you had interacted. Before he had fallen heads over heels in love with you, his childhood best friend, people flirting with you hadn't been a problem. He'd encouraged it, even. But now, bitterness flared up inside of him every time he saw someone getting a bit too cozy with you. 

      In short, his feelings for you had completely destroyed his facade of smooth, suave, sexy Prince of Ravka. And it kind of terrified him how poorly he hid it.

· · ─── ·𖥸· ─── · ·

Nikolai had been acting strange lately, and it was bothering you. You feared the worst - had he finally caught on to your crush? You thought you'd been subtle until Ivan had approached you at the most recent party. Apparently, the scowl on your face as you watched Nikolai flirt with the guests had been fierce enough to kill.

      Ivan had given you (unsolicited) advice, telling you to be straightforward and direct. That was what he'd done with Fedyor, after all, and that had worked out well.

      You were pacing around your room. Ivan was perched on your bed, watching you have a borderline nervous breakdown like one would watch the view. 

      "You're enjoying this, aren't you, Ivan?" you demanded. "I'm about to make a life or death decision, and you're enjoying it."

      He chuckled. "I wouldn't call this a life or death decision, Y/n. If Nikolai rejects you, he rejects you, and it's his loss. If he reciprocates, good, and you'll be free to frolic in the meadows with him, all fine and dandy."

      You stared at him, your expression communicating, "Did you really just say that?", very clearly.

      "Okay, okay, fine, I'll be serious." Ivan relented. "Just tell him, Y/n. What's the worst that could happen?" 

      Just as you were about to respond - "Well, I don't know, what if he rejects me, things become eternally awkward between us, and our 10 year long friendship is ruined because I couldn't keep my mouth shut?" - someone knocked at the door. You opened it to find Nikolai waiting. His hair was perfectly styled, as always. He wore a dark turquoise suit jacket, and a simple white dress shirt underneath. The ghost of a smile appeared on your face; you had chosen the colour for him.

      "Hi, Nikolai," you greeted. 

      "Hello," he said. "Come on a walk with me. It's a lovely day outside, and both of us have been dreadfully busy lately - we may not get another chance to spend time together, I'm afraid."

      "Oh! Of course, just let me grab more suitable shoes- I'll be out in a minute- Ivan, move." You rummaged around your room in search of the sandals Nikolai had gifted you for your most recent birthday. Ivan flashed you a grin.

      "Tell him!" he whispered as you ducked out the door.

      You hoped you didn't seem too jittery as you took Nikolai's arm, even if your insides were filled with butterflies. He seemed deep in thought for the first few minutes of your walk. It wasn't until you were both outside that he finally spoke.

      "I hope you don't mind me asking, Y/n, but what was Ivan doing in your room?" he asked. 

      The question caught you off guard. Why was he so concerned about you and Ivan? It wasn't as if-

      Oh.

      Oh.

      "Nikolai, don't tell me- are you jealous?" you exclaimed.

      "Just answer the question, Y/n," he grumbled, which was enough of an answer for you.

      You laughed, only feeling a bit bad that you were so amused. Nikolai Lantsov, jealous. You found that incredibly funny. "Oh, I'm sorry for laughing," you apologised, even as another giggle escaped your mouth. "You don't have to worry, Ivan and I are strictly friends."

      He didn't seem convinced. "But the two of you at the party a few days ago-,"

      You cut him off. "Nikolai. I promise that there is nothing romantic going on with Ivan and I. And besides, I don't think I'm anywhere near his type."

      "Ivan likes men, Nikolai," you supplied, sensing his confusion. "Honestly, you need to keep up with gossip - he and Fedyor have been going strong for nearly three months now."

      "Oh," Nikolai said.

      "Yeah, oh."

      "And, uh, do you? Like men, I mean?" 

      You bit back another laugh. "Yes, I do. One man in particular, actually." 

      "Is that so? Care to clue me in on who this man is?"

      "You." 

· · ─── ·𖥸· ─── · ·

Nikolai's pov

"You."

      As soon as that single word came out of your mouth, Nikolai's brain short-circuited, and several alarms blared in his mind. ALERT! ALERT! THE PERSON YOU'RE IN LOVE WITH LIKES YOU BACK! 

      He was too stunned to speak, which was definitely a first. So, naturally, he didn't speak, but instead leaned in to kiss you. His lips brushed chastely against yours. A pause. 

      "I- I'm really sorry, Y/n, I should have asked beforehand-,"

      "Nikolai." you took his face in your hands. "Shut up." 

      And then you kissed him, and if his brain had been short-circuiting before, this was a full blown system failure. Sparks flew inside of him, and he was acutely aware of you and you only. It was a wonderful feeling, one that he immediately missed when you pulled away.

      "Wow," you said. 

      He grinned. "I'm that good of a kisser, huh?"

      When usually you would come up with a witty response, you just smiled. It was a smile Nikolai was pretty sure he'd die to see again. 

· · ─── ·𖥸· ─── · ·

Falling in love with Nikolai had been a long process. Your simple crush developed into something deeper like a leaky faucet dripping - slowly, but steadily. And then the realisation that you were in love with him hit you like a tidal wave. Drowning you, consuming every inch of your being, but not necessarily in a bad way.

       You came to your epiphany while laying awake in bed one night after a whole day spent with the esteemed King of Ravka. It was a wonder that you'd managed to spend a whole 10 hours or so in his company without getting fed up, Tamar had teased. He did annoy you - and had today - but you bullied him back plenty enough. It was easy being with him. Easier than you were used to. 

       You loved the way his eyes sparkled after correcting someone on their use of the word 'impossible'. Loved how he devoted himself to his country so selflessly. Loved how he smiled at you so genuinely and lovingly, even when you didn't have the energy to show your love in return after a bad day. Saints, you loved him so, so much, and you were so in love with him, too, and-

       Holy shit. You were in love with Nikolai.

       You were in love. With Nikolai.

       A childish giggle bubbled up inside of you, and you sighed happily. What a feeling it was to be in love with the King of Ravka, even if he didn't know it yet. 

· · ─── ·𖥸· ─── · ·

You twirled a small flower around in your hands as you walked side by side with Nikolai, your shoulders brushing occasionally. The taller blades of grass tickled your ankles, and a gentle breeze weaved through your hair. The sun peeked out from behind a few clouds, warming your face.

     Nikolai intertwined your fingers, sighing in content. He craned back his neck to meet the sunshine, eyes fluttering shut. He looked stunning, just standing there with his almost otherworldly beauty as light spilled over his fine features, highlighting every detail.

     "I'm in love with you," you blurted suddenly. "I love you, and I'm also in love with you, so. Yeah. I'm in love with you, Nikolai Lantsov."

     You gave yourself a mental round of applause for your eloquence and tact.

      He blinked. "Oh." The ghost of a smile appeared on his face, turning into a full-fledged grin when he finally processed your words. "Oh. I'm... I'm in love with you, too, Y/n L/n."

      You beamed back at him, and cupped his face in your hands. You gently ran your fingers against his cheeks, tracing a line down to the base of his chest. The fabric of his shirt was thin and soft, unlike the suffocating material his suits were made of. Lovingly, he wrapped his arms around your waist, and pulled you close. Your heart fluttered. Saints, you adored Nikolai. More than you could put into words. 

      "I love you," you whispered. "I love you so much, so intensely that it consumes me, and I'm drowning in it. But instead of it being hard to breathe, it makes breathing easier. It makes everything easier." 

      You interrupted your little speech by kissing him, just because it felt appropriate, and continued. "I was so lost without you, Nikolai. I didn't realise it, because as I've proved time and time again, I'm more than capable of holding my own-" you smirked as he rolled his eyes at the jab to his overprotectiveness "-but I was. I was a boat lost at sea, floating around in the waves, with no destination and no goal except surviving. Then you came along, and gave me solace. You were my salvation. You and your endearingly stupid jokes and your wild yet grounded behaviour. You're my anchor, Nikolai." 

      He laughed, but not in the mean way. In the happy way. 

      "I would pay you back with a monologue of my own," he said. "but all I can think of right now is how perfect you are, and how much I want to kiss you."

      Your smile widened, if that were even possible. You met him midway, lips connecting almost desperately. The only coherent thought running through your brain was 'Nikolai, Nikolai, Nikolai.'

      Nikolai.

· · ─── ·𖥸· ─── · ·

"That one looks like a dragon," you said, pointing out a lumpy cloud in the sky.

      Nikolai tilted his head to the left. It was rather cute - he looked like a puppy, trying to figure out what its owner was saying. His right eyebrow curved in an upward arch (you still had no idea how he managed to raise a single eyebrow at a time), and he pouted slightly. Adorable.

      "I don't see it," he deadpanned.

      You sighed and shook your head, dismissing the cute puppy ideology. "Nevermind," you huffed. As hard as you tried to pretend you were upset with him, a smile teased at the corners of your mouth, anyway.

      "I'm sorry, darling, but I really don't!" he exclaimed, flopping back into the picnic blanket you two had laid out. Really, it wasn't even a picnic blanket. It was just a blanket. The two of you hadn't had time to find a proper one before embarking on your impromptu picnic. Nikolai, ever the improviser, had then brandished a quilt from Saints knew where. You suspected it came from Vasily's room, because who else would be pompous enough to own a red velvet blanket the size of China?

      You dramatically exhaled again. "I already said nevermind. Not all of us can be blessed with a creative vision such as mine, after all."

      Nikolai laughed. And Saints, the sound was downright melodic. You didn't even want to begin thinking about all the things you'd do to hear it one more time.

      A comfortable silence settled between the two of you. Eventually, he began stroking your palm with his callouses fingers. You bit back a smile, and linked your pinkies together. A gathering of clouds mostly covered the sun - enough to allow only a bit of warm, gold light to seep out. You wondered briefly how Nikolai looked right now, basking underneath the faint sunshine. 

      The answer came to you easily, even without looking at him: fucking beautiful. 

      However, you wouldn't give him the satisfaction of staring at him. The last time he had caught you gaping at him like a lovesick fool, he had teased you endlessly. It was ridiculous. It wasn't as if he didn't stare at you. No, actually. He stared at you all the time. In fact, he was doing it right now.

      You bit back a grin when you felt his eyes on you. But before you could tease him for it, he got up suddenly, offering you a hand.

      "Come on," he urged. "Follow me."

      "Where to?" you questioned curiously.

      He smirked. Tugged on your hand. Winked. "You'll see." 

      "Right, that's not cryptic at all," you muttered. 

      Eventually, after a minute or so of walking (and plenty of you trying to weasel more information out of him) the two of you had seemed to reach your destination. A huge tree hung above you, offering its shade. You plopped down, but Nikolai remained standing.

      Strangely, he was looking rather nervous. Repeatedly tugging at the collar of his beige button-up shirt, and kicking at the grass. 

      "Y/n, darling, don't just sit there, you're making me nervous," he whined. 

      You giggled, but stood up anyway. "I could say the same about you. What's on your mind, dear?"

      He took a deep breath, and looked you dead in the eyes. "I love you, Y/n. I love you, and I'm in love with you. I always have, and always have been. It's just- you're wonderful. And intelligent. And charming. And I am so, so glad you are my partner - in the romantic sense, and the platonic sense. If I'm being honest, I'm quite sure I'd be tearing at the seams without you to sew me back together every time I do something particularly foolish. 

      And I hope you'll always be there to ground me. Because I will always be there for you. Th-there's no other way to say this, my darling, but I'd quite like to spend the rest of my life with you, so..."

      He brandished a dark blue box from his back pocket (this probably wasn't the time, but you had to mention that you could never fit something that large in your pocket. Why did men's clothing always have bigger pockets?) and got down on one knee. 

      "Will you do me the honour of marrying me, Y/n?" he finished.

      Holy fuck. Holy mother of Saints. Holy everything. Was this real? Saints. This really was real, wasn't it? Nikolai Lantsov was proposing to you.

      A sob escaped from your throat, and you nodded frantically, not wanting him to think you were upset. "Yes," you said. "Saints, Nikolai, yes."

      He smiled. You knew that he smiled a lot, but this smile was different. Usually, he just grinned or smirked in a devilish way - this was more of a beam. He looked so genuinely happy (genuinely happy, because of you!) that it made your heart soar, and you were pretty sure you fell in love with him all over again for the second time. You'd never get tired of it, though. Not when it came to Nikolai (Nikolai, your husband-to-be!). Never when it came to Nikolai.

      You soon found yourself enveloped in a hug. He spun you around, both of you laughing (and crying). When he set you down, you could have sworn you saw his eyes welling up.

      "Now, my love, those better be happy tears," he tutted.

      "Of course they're happy tears, you stupid puppy dog!" you sniffed. "I love you."

      He beamed into your hair. "I love you, too, Y/n."

      What a feeling it was to be in love with Nikolai Lantsov, and to know that he was in love with you, too.