#ever since I heard about this ship I’ve been enthralled

[dannybobany]

When you’re trying to bake bread but that one really handsome guy shows up to the bakery

(Hero has astronomical levels of rizz)

[redwingstan]

Elevator Talks

Loki x Reader Insert

➽Summary: In which you and Loki are in the elevator together while in the process of helping Thor, Bruce Banner, and Valkyrie escape from Sakaar (this takes place during Thor: Ragnarok, obviously).

➽Pairing: Loki x Reader

➽Word Count: 1397

➽Warnings: Conversational fluff and regular fluff

➽Author’s Note: This is my first MCU reader insert so go easy on me. I went based off of two clips from Ragnarok when writing this—I haven’t seen the entire movie in a while so majority of the background details are based off my memory. 

 ⋆  ⋆ ⋆  ⋆

“This isn’t going to work.”

You and the god of mischief entered the elevator. You said nothing as you faced the transparent windows that displayed the repulsive looking planet known as Sakaar. It was a mess—a conglomerate pile of desecrated trash—yet you couldn’t bring yourself to leave. But what did you expect? After all, you found yourself attached to the most unwanted things; the most neglected things. 

“You can’t honestly believe this is going to work,” Loki said. He paced back and forth, the elevator slightly shaking as it descended at a mild speed. "I mean, seriously."

You gripped onto the metal bar to keep yourself steady, your knuckles taut.

“Loki—”

“I say we abort this...operation—tell the Grandmaster—and pretend this never happened." 

You turn your back to the transparent windows and face him. He's still pacing, his boots shuffling against the floor. A couple of floors from now, you both planned on creating a diversion in an effort for Thor, the Grandmasters's champion, and Valkyrie to escape. 

            "You wouldn't do that," you say. You purse your lips and shake your head subtly as if to convince yourself of that. "Besides, it's about time you left, too. You could go with them, help them.”

Loki scoffed. "And what, if anything, will I gain in helping my brother, Lady Y/N?" 

He stops a couple of feet in front of you, a perplexed expression on his face as he impatiently waits for your response.

Although there was plenty of space between you two you found yourself leaning against the rail behind you. You cross your arms and smile and shrug. "A clear conscience," you say. "And my utmost respect." 

"Ah, yes. A clear conscience and the priceless respect of a horrible gambler—a bad one at that. It's all anyone could ever ask for," he replied sarcastically with an added eye roll.

Briefly, you narrow your eyes at him before glancing off to the side, avoiding his smug expression. 

For two weeks, although it felt like a lifetime, you had resided on Sakaar. It wasn't by choice—considering your former home had fallen victim to persecution. Ironically, it was a miracle you had stumbled onto this trash planet that had grown to become your temporary home. You never had the courage to leave despite your distaste for the Grandmaster and the heap of scrap metal that lay everywhere you went. You weren't quite sure where else to go though. Not now, anyways. 

But there was one thing that had kept you from leaving. One person. 

"I've offended you," he said matter-of-factly rather than apologetically, though his tone was nothing shy of teasing. “Again.”

You sigh, though no words surpass your lips. It was a personal game you played with him often. One in which you would give him the silent treatment when he struck a nerve with his sarcastic tone—which had taken a while for you to get used to.

The two of you are silent for a moment. Nothing but the sound of the descending elevator could be heard. You were surprised that he hadn’t attempted to prove his false accusation. 

“I never cheated,” You said, breaking the silence. You turn to look at him and find him fiddling with one of his knives a few feet away, his back against the elevator’s wall. The elevator was soon to open. Your hand went to the laser attached to your hip. 

A small smile appeared on your lips. You shook your head defiantly. “I can’t cheat in a situation I can’t control.”

You shift slightly on your feet and watch as he twirls the knife in his hand effortlessly while looking in your direction. 

“That’s a dreadful lie,” he says, gripping the hilt of his knife and letting it hang by his side. “My brother lost—fair and square.”

You rolled your eyes, though can’t help but laugh. “Yes, right after the Grandmaster shocked him. It was unfair after that—you of all people should know that.” 

“Need I remind you that I’m a god?” He never ceased to remind you of that.

“So I’ve heard,” You said. “A thousand times over.” You mumbled the last part under your breath.

It was times like these that you had forgotten Loki was a god, capable of mischief and manipulation. If anything, from the time you both spent betting on gladiatorial brawls, you found him to be more of a child than anything—one full of sarcastic one-liners and trauma who longed to be feared...or at least taken more seriously.

For a fraction of  second you were convinced that it was his turn to be angry. He gave you a sideways glance, one that had the capabilities of making you cease your laughter. 

But eventually that amusing smile returned ever so slowly. It was one of the many things you had to get used to as well. 

“Very funny, Lady Y/N,” he eventually said. 

 He gave you another eye roll before pushing off the rail and resuming his pacing, the knife twirling between his fingers. 

Over the past week—an eternity on Sakaar—you two had developed a friendship that you never thought you’d cherish. It was all you could’ve asked for after all you had been through. It took a while for the both of you to share parts of your past with one another, but you both did—even though you were both privy to the fact that the other had left out a significant amount of details for the sake of privacy and buried trauma. But you both had a mutual understanding, a boundary you didn’t cross. 

“But in all seriousness,” You said, gripping your laser in hand. “I think it would be best if you helped your brother. From what you told me, he’s the only family you have at the moment.”

“Not by blood,” he reminded you. 

He always grew annoyed by the subject of family, which was why you refrained from talking about it as much as you could. You were aware that he had been adopted, but he never spoke of the details thoroughly. You never asked.

“Family is family regardless of—”

  You watched as he paused on the opposite wall, this time with both knives in hand. 

“Do you want to see a trick?” He asked, cutting you off. He produced an awkward grin—one filled with remorse and apprehension. 

You lifted a brow, though gave him a nod as if to accept his attempt at diverting the subject. Whenever he didn’t want to talk about something, he always found a way to make you smile—as if he were making up for not sharing. You never pushed him, though. You just simply accepted it and went along with it. 

Before you could blink, there were two knives in his hands. In an effortless fashion he tossed them into the air. They flipped—one, two, three, four times before they’re caught. Loki looked at you, raising a brow as he waited for an applause. That “knife trick” had enthralled you since the first time he had done it carelessly. It wasn’t the trick itself that captured your attention, but the confident look he gave after he performed it. As if he were waiting for your approval. 

Your eyes flicker to his, anticipating his accomplished grin to surface. Instead, you're met with a look of innocence and intrigue. You two locked eyes for longer than anticipated and momentarily you forgot where you were. 

Your cheeks burned and you were certain his did too. It was the first time you had ever seen the god of mischief flustered.

“You’re not going to betray him, are you? Your brother,” You said once you looked away. Your eyes went to the wall next to you. You were determined to look anywhere but at him.

“Betrayal is what I do best,” he said.

You smiled gently and shook your head. “No.”

“No?”

“You’ve got some good in you deep down—albeit, very little—but it’s still there,” You said with a small grin just before the elevator doors opened. You pointed your laser towards a cluster of the Grandmaster’s guards. All you needed to do was make a clear path and secure one of the ships. 

You rush past Loki and fire a shot or two. In the corner of your eye you catch his ghost of a smile before you both are making a clear for escape. 

[cunningambitousdetermined]

I Loved You (young!Sirius x Reader)

um ok so i've never written anything and posted it somewhere before but i saw @vogueweasley's 1k writing challenge and i decided why not. actually there are many reasons not to but i hope that someone will have some form of constructive criticism. so yeah, worst case if you hate it um sorry. and thanks @vogueweasley for giving me an oppurtunity. i decided to do sirius x reader (even though i ship wolfstar sorry) here it goes with the prompt: "Did it mean anything to you?" Did I mean anything to you?"

Sirius Black was in love. That was the fact of the matter. Anyone who knew him from Hogwarts would have said that it was a lie. It would pass. Sirius Black, in love? The playboy of Hogwarts, breaker of all hearts? He was in love? It was a phase, they said, she wouldn’t last. If Y/N was being honest, she hadn’t thought it would last either. She was right. 

It had all started when Remus Lupin had introduced them on the train their first year. Y/N was Remus’s best friend and had ever since he could remember. Growing up, they read books, drew pictures and did everything together. She was there after every full moon. She would read books to Remus and bring silly old movies. She was a muggleborn so it had been quite a shock to her and her parents when they found out about Remus’s family. But Y/N had been there when he’d been bitten. They had been sleeping in a tent in the basement of Remus’s house when Greyback had tore threw the window and attacked. She remember every part of that night. The breaking of the short windows, glass shattering, the growling, the tearing of flesh. Greyback’s face was what haunted Remus’s nightmares but his screams haunted hers. When Y/N received her letter, her parents were thrilled, not to mention Remus, who was ecstatic at the prospect of spending all their time in school together. Y/N had left to go change when Sirius Black and James Potter slipped into Remus’s compartment. From what Remus gathered, they had bumped into each other after Sirius pranked his family and James helped him escape. Y/N proudly straightened her tie, she was a witch. She was going to Hogwarts, with Rem. Her giddy smile hadn’t left her face since she had gotten the letter. Diagon Alley was even better. Her mum and dad hadn’t come but Hope and Lyall had taken her with pleasure. They took her to all the shops and helped her buy everything. Remus had laughed at her star struck face when she proclaimed loudly “I love magic!”. She never wanted to leave. 

She walked briskly back to Remus with a bounce in her step. Only an hour or so and they would be there. She heard voices and laughter coming from the compartment and wondered if Remus had already made new friends. She smiled at the thought, he had been so scared to come. Being the first werewolf he was afraid of anyone knowing. She had assured him that nothing would happen and he would make lots of friends, and looked like she was right. She slid the door open, a proud smirk gracing her features. 

“Y/N!” Remus leaped up and pulled her to the seat next to him. Next to her sat a boy with dark brown unruly hair and glasses perched on his nose. His smile scrunched up his blue eyes and brought out his rather large dimples. The boy across from them was what really caught her eye. He had chin length black hair and the most beautiful eyes she had ever seen. When he smiled, his whole face lit up. “Y/N, meet Sirius Black”

That was the start of a friendship that rivaled her and Remus. Despite being a Hufflepuff, she was an honorary Marauder. In her second year, she learned to become an Animagus to help Remus. Remus had been furious and terrified but he would be forever grateful for her sacrifice. In her third year, the rest of the Marauders found out and became Animagus themselves. James, a stag. Peter, a rat. Sirius and her were dogs. Except she was golden where he was black. They were inseparable. And it was no secret that no matter how many girls Sirius slept with, there was only one that was on his mind. 

Sirius Black had been in love in like with Y/N for years. He had found her stunning on the train but he was young and naive then. He had since grown up and become someone new. They were the best of friends. Sirius and her were both Beaters on their quidditch teams leading to a never ending rivalry. But, it was the way she listened that set her apart from the rest. There had been one particular night when he had just gotten a letter from home. The letter was all sorts of cruel and no matter how hard he tried to keep his bad boy façade up, all he wanted to do was cry. Remus and Y/N were reading to each other, as they did often in an armchair in the common room when Sirius had sped by, tears in his eyes. Y/N had barely glanced at Remus before she quickly followed him. Sirius burst into his dorm and threw himself on the bed. He then proceeded to punch the wall. Again, and again, and again. Suddenly, a soft hand pulled his back from the wall. “Siri, Siri stop...” It was Y/N. Dimly aware of the tears streaming down his face, he had let her drag him to his bed and wipe his tears. She had bundled him up in her arms, his head in her lap as he sobbed and sobbed for at least 30 minutes. When all his tears had run out and he was finally aware of himself again. His cheeks flamed as he realized how he had let Y/N see him. Crying and angry. He made to get up but your hand that was running through his hair stilled and she pulled it away but kept him on the bed with a firm pull. 

“Y/N- I- Let’s just forget this. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to have you see that” he muttered as he again tried to pull away. He hated himself. A disgrace. Embarrassment. Right now the only thing he wanted to do was cave. Fall asleep and never wake up. Ever. He hated himself and for her to see him as himself without any mask, she was sure to hate him too. “Just go” he mumbled. She silenced him with a stern look. Then she softened and pressed her hand to his cheek, thumbing over his tear stains. 

“Siri, let me help you. You need to let someone help you. What’s going on?” Maybe it was something about her eyes, so deep and pleading. Or maybe it was her soft smile or her thumb running over his cheekbone that made him spill it all to her. He told her everything. His parents, the shunning, the yelling. She had listened, flinching along the way. And when he was done, she had told him things that no one had said to him before. She had promised that she would always be there. Her soft voice and words eased him and slowly his tears stopped. And she had held him for the rest of the night, rocking him until he fell asleep, her words ringing in his head. “You are perfect, Sirius Orion Black, and to hell with anyone who thinks you’re not”

 That wasn’t the last time that he had cried to her, spilled his secrets. He found himself going to her, letting his guard down. When he was happy and, most of the time, in trouble, she was there to help him plan his next prank. And when he was sad, most of all then, she was there to help him. She tore up his letters and comforted him. Her soft nature at those times was such a soothing presence in contrast to his anger and self loathing. He had never let himself be so vulnerable with anyone. And maybe that was why he found himself falling harder and harder for her every day. 

“REMUS LUPIN!” Y/N cried, “YOU LET ME GO THIS INSTANT!” She was laughing as Remus continued to run through Hogsmeade with Y/N thrown over his shoulder. Sirius couldn’t deny that it made a little bit of green tinge the ends of his vision. “Ya know, Moony, I never realized you had such a nice arse...” she remarked with a chuckle. Remus threw her down into the soft snow and stuck his tongue out at her. She laughed and reached a hand out for Remus to help her up. Sirius could see the look in her eye from here, Remus was done for. Remus grabbed her hand but she dug her feet into the snow and yanked him down with her. He yelped and crashed down, half on top of her. Sirius laughed but couldn’t help the pit in his stomach as she leaned in and whispered something in Moony’s ear. He looked away, he didn’t want to see it. Moony burst out laughing but Sirius didn’t take his eyes off of James, who was enthralled at the new Cleansweep broom. 

Thunk. Something cold and wet had hit Sirius’s hair. He whipped around, snow dripping down his cheek and that’s why Y/N erupted in laughter. She was doubled over, cheeks red and hand clapped over her mouth as she lost it. Something about the shock on Sirius’s face with the snow falling off his hair and Y/N’s contagious laughter made Remus join in. The pair rolled around in the snow, cackling. Sirius grinned, so this was how they wanted to play it. While they laughed at him, he balled up his fist with snow and prepared to throw. Y/N squealed, her smile still lighting up her whole face. “No, no, SIRIUS, NO!!:” Sirius and Remus exchanged a look and Remus dove out of the way as Sirius launched his first snowball. “TRAITOR!” she yelled at Remus, “Traitor!” Her heart was light and her smile wide as she watched the joy on Sirius’s face. It had been a while since she’d really seen him just let go. She was so caught up, she didn’t see Remus aiming until a snowball hit her scarf and slid down her sweater. Remus widened his eyes, that was not good. “Oh really, Moony, I don’t think so...” she narrowed her eyes at him. James had turned around and not one to miss out, ran to help her. “Thank you James,” she smiled sweetly, “At least some of you are decent,” she teased, looking back at Sirius and Remus. 

James smirked, he was a man on a mission. Make Sirius jealous. “Of course love. Anytime” he winked and wrapped his arm around her waist. He saw the muscles in Sirius’s hand flex at the movement and smirked. This was too easy. Y/N had already begun collected all her snowballs and started to pummel the boys with them. Remus was running back and forth, screaming, trying to avoid James’s deadly aim. Y/N was laughing so hard her jaw hurt as she attacked Sirius with snowballs. Her whole body felt warm and fuzzy, this was a Patronus worthy moment. 

As the Marauders trudged back to Hogwarts, sopping wet and drunk on happiness, James kept his arm around Y/N and let her take his scarf. Sirius refused to look at them. His stomach clenched at the sight of James’s hand on her waist. When they had made it back to the boy’s dorm, Y/N rifled through James’s things until she came back from the bathroom, clean and warm, in James’s quidditch jumper and an old pair of leggings she’d left a while ago. His heart fell when he saw her leap onto James’s bed and put her head on his shoulder. His happy mood vanished as she laughed at something James was saying. He plopped on his bed, it was supposed to be his bed she was getting warm in, his jokes she was laughing at and his clothes she was wearing! He grabbed the map and watched the people float around, just having a good time. The weather was perfect for sledding and ice skating and that seemed to be where most kids were. 

Unfortunately, he was still subject to Y/N and James laughing and talking. The closer James leaned in to her, the more his anger bubbled. James knew! The prat knew he was in love with her! And he was still doing it! Yes, he knew he wasn’t good enough for her, but come on! Right in front of him? His anger reached it’s peak when James leaned in to her ear and pulling away, pressed a feather light kiss to her cheek. Whatever James had said had made her laugh lightly and her already pink cheeks to flush brilliant red. Then with a last wink, James hopped up and left the room. No bye or anything, it was a bit odd actually. Remus gave Sirius a meaningful look as he crossed the room and followed James out, Peter scurrying after them. 

Sirius shot her a confused look only to find that she wasn’t looking at him. Her eyes were trained on James’s jumper sleeves as she pulled and twisted it. His anger rose again as he remembered who’s jumper you were wearing and the kiss that had come along with it. “Well why don’t you go after your boyfriend, Y/N?” he sneered.  Her head jerked up in confusion. The way he said boyfriend had been with such disgust. Even the way he said her name. He sounded like Malfoy and those pureblood snobs. 

“He’s not my boyfriend!” She shot back, James and his stupid plan. Why had she done this? He claimed that he had made Sirius jealous but she knew that the boy didn’t have feelings her. All she’d done was make him angry. She was going to murder James if Sirius wasn’t her friend anymore after watching James disgustingly flirt with her all afternoon. 

“Well, you sure looked pretty cozy!” Sirius yelled, he was furious, all his pent up emotions leading to one big explosion. He leapt up from his bed and stormed over to where Y/N sat, her legs dangling over the edge of James’s bed, and planted himself between her legs. 

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Y/N whispered, he was so close, his grey eyes swirling with emotion. Anger, sadness, and maybe something more, she didn’t know. She inhaled and his scent of sugar and campfire filled her nose. Sirius looked down at her, his eyes flicking to her lips, the lips that he had been tortured by for years. And he kissed her. His hands cupped her cheeks and he ran his thumbs across her face. She stilled, shocked, was this real? But she didn’t think on it as she kissed him back, hands threading through his dark locks, pulling him down. Sirius groaned and pulled away, looking at this wonderful girl. She smiled shyly and tucked a piece of his hair behind his ear. Yeah, he was a goner. 

That was the start of probably the happiest time in Sirius’s life. And Y/N’s. Sirius was the best boyfriend anyone could ask for. They had been best friends before so they slipped very easily into the relationship. Y/N started spending less time in her dorm and more time asleep in Sirius’s bed. She had been the first to say ‘I love you’ because she did. She really did. And when she had, Sirius had been shocked. She loved him? His body had gone into overdrive and he just started crying. He was so goddamn lucky. Unbeknownst to Y/N, he watched her every minute of every day. He admired her. And she was his world. Without her, he didn’t know what he would do. His whole being ached for her when he was at the Potters. When they left school that summer and he went home to that desolate place that held no meaning to him, he was miserable. His muscles felt to weak to do anything and his mind just told him to go to sleep and never wake up. 2 weeks in, he hadn’t even gotten up the courage to open Y/N’s letters. It made his heart hurt just to see her owl drop them off. So naturally when she showed up at his house while his parents were at the Malfoy Gala, he was shocked. His summer turned from his worst to his best. When no one was around, she crept back in and they spent the summer playing quidditch and cuddling by the fire. Sleepy kisses on tired eyes, quiet ‘I love you’s’. Sirius would watch her as she slept in his arms, his clothes, in his bed and he would cry. Softly and not out of pain, but out of happiness. This girl, she had brought him back to Earth, gave him a reason to live. She was his home. His silk sheets would tangle her legs and his old muggle shirts would fall to her knees and he couldn’t have been happier. He had been drowning and she had saved him. She had brought him back to life. 

They were blissfully unaware that they had made a fatal mistake. Regulus. Regulus saw her come in and out and saw them fly around, laughing and loving each other like no one else could see them. But he could and when his mother asked him questions, he didn’t lie. 

“I love you” Sirius whispered into Y/N’s hair, “I love you, I love you, I love you.” She was wrapped in his covers as they just sat, enjoying being with each other. He relaxed against her and she sighed happily. 

“I love you too Siri”

Their sixth year at Hogwarts had come. They were closer then ever after the summer they had spent together. Classes were the same but something had changed. Y/N was just so so happy. She felt invincible. But, she wasn’t. She was mortal and she could still feel pain. 

She walked down the corridor after Charms, parting with Sirius and headed back to her dorm to change out of her uniform. She was cheerily walking, book in hand as she skimmed the pages, making sure she didn’t run into anyone. When she glanced up next, a group of Slytherins stood at the end of the hall, just where she needed to turn to get to the common room. It was Regulus, Sirius’s brother, and some of Sirius’s cousins. She pasted on a smile and made to pass them, not wanting any trouble. You’re fine, she reassured herself but her racing heartbeat said otherwise. She strode past them and gave Regulus a small nod. Just as she thought she was home free, a hand flipped out and grabbed her arm. Her whole body froze and she swallowed a scream. Regulus had her by the arm and marched her down the opposite corridor to an empty corner.

“Regulus! Let me go!” Y/N whispered, “Sirius will hurt you, and I don’t want that.” Even though he had trapped her here, she still felt the urge to protect him. He was Sirius’s family after all. 

“I’m just trying to help you Y/N” he replied, “I won’t beat around the bush. You can’t see Sirius.” The frustration in Y/N spiked into anger, fire licking at her insides. 

“You cannot tell me what to do! Sirius is my boyfriend, who are you to say differently?” She spat at him, disgusted. Stop seeing Sirius, he must be insane. 

“Please, it’s for your own good.” he said and handed her a stack of papers. She looked down at them in confusion. “I found them in his room,” Regulus dropped his voice “My mum found out too, and she wrote you a letter as well,” He dropped another letter into her hand. This one was sealed in an envelope. She made to turn away but Regulus was looking at her expectantly. 

“You want me to open them here?” She asked, incredulous. “What do they say?” Regulus just shook his head and slid down to sit on the floor. He patted the spot next to him. Y/N sighed and sat down and opened the first letter. 

Dear Miss Y/N,

It was recently brought to our attention that our Sirius was in a relationship with you. Now, as we are sure you are aware, we cannot have someone like you sullying the name Black. We hope this letter finds you in good health and able to fulfill our wishes. I, Walburga Black, command you to break off all relations with my son, Sirius Orion Black.  You are not and never will be good enough for this house. You are nothing, nothing but a filthy mudblood. You ruin my son and you will only further his destruction. If you do not comply, I do hope that you understand that we will do everything in our power to stop this. But, I believe you are a smart child, for a mudblood, and I hope that I will not have to waste anymore time or breath on you. 

The Noble House of Black

“Your joking, right?” Y/N laughed, “I couldn’t do that to him, I wouldn’t! I don’t care about some Noble House of Black!” She again went to get up but Regulus caught her wrist. 

“Y/N, I don’t want you to have to do this either, but I think you should. Look at the notes from Sirius. He wrote those this summer. I found them and then my mum gave me the letter. I don’t want my mum to be the reason you break it off but there’s more to the story. I just don’t want you getting hurt in the end.” Anyone else would’ve told her that there was no way he really cared, but Y/N insisted upon seeing the good in everyone so she sat down again and opened the notes.

June 28

Y/N came to see me. Dear god, that women is going to be the death of me. Y/N smiled, remembering the day she had snuck in. I can’t wait to tell Mum all about how I had her, in the bed she bought for me. The filthy mudblood tangled in her sheets that she bought. Y/N’s face fell along with her heart. Mudblood? He would never. Y/N, so naïve, really thinks I’d be into her. That’s what makes it perfect. She would never guess that her only purpose is to spite my mother. Like I really care. It doesn’t help that I get sex. I mean I could have any girl but damn, she gave herself to me to fast. Even I didn’t know I was that good. Either way, she has to find out eventually. I mean I can’t marry her. Mudblood. Imagine that. She’s not even pretty. Kind of fat actually. More hips then I normally see...

The notes went on and on and on. Y/N felt her heart crack and shatter. Tears streamed down her face. She was just a mudblood that he had used. She felt dumb and most of all, betrayed.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N” Regulus said, “I just wanted to make sure you knew.” She turned away in an a

She didn’t respond just gathered the letters and fled. In her dorm, she flopped on to her bed and just cried. She cried for the boy who she thought loved her, who she still loved. She cried because she wasn’t good enough, because she nothing at all. The girls in her dorm had soon filed in and tried to pry the story out of her. She just tossed the letters at them and continued crying. Jane, one of the girls, held her as she shook and sobbed until she fell asleep. She refused to go to any classes the next day, or the next week. She didn’t eat, she didn’t sleep. All she wanted do to was die. Dark circles lived under eyes and her bones began to show through. There was nothing the girls could do, she had shut herself inside the curtains of her bed. Her heart had been broken and she was pretty sure there was no putting it back together. 

The Marauders were worried. Y/N hadn’t been in class in weeks and many teachers were getting suspicious. Remus had tried to visit her but the Hufflepuff girls had barred his way through. Sirius was going mad without her. He couldn’t focus in class, his eyes were always on her empty seat. He laughed and joked with the Marauders but his smiles didn’t reach his eyes. His dreams were filled of her. Her. Her laugher, her smile, her hands, her lips on his. Finally, he’d had enough. James mentioned missing Y/N to Remus and him in the common room and that was it. “I’m going to get her” He said and he stormed out. Remus could feel the anger radiating off of him and knew he would need to be there to put the fire out. He ran off behind him and trailed him to the dorms. The Hufflepuff dorms were one of the hardest to get into so they waited until a boy came out and Sirius stormed in. Remus tried to grab Sirius and calm him down but it was to no avail. He was already charming the stairs and starting up. 

“Sirius! Please! Just calm down!” Remus cried, desperately trying to pull him back. Knowing him, he might say something he would regret.

“No Remus.” Sirius’s voice was colder then Remus had ever heard it. “My girlfriend is ignoring me and I intend to figure out why.” Sirius ripped the door open and found Y/N’s curtains drawn shut. Before Remus could say anything, Sirius had flung the curtains open. Remus watched Sirius freeze, his whole body tense. He stepped forward to look past Sirius and was shocked. Y/N was curled on the bed, eyes wide. She had bags and purple circles under each eye. Her cheeks were sunken in, and her shirt hung off of her in a odd way. She looked like shit. 

“Si-Sirius?” she whimpered, and her eyes filled with tears. Remus looked at the bed and found pictures shattered and things thrown everywhere. She was a mess.

“Yes.” Sirius snapped, “You know, your BOYFRIEND!” Y/N flinched and her face hardened. 

“Oh really? OH REALLY? MY BOYFRIEND?!” she yelled, fury edging in her tone.

“YES YOUR BOYFRIEND!” he screamed back, his face red and his hands gesturing wildly. 

“ARE YOU SURE? I THOUGHT I WAS JUST A MUDBLOOD, TOO NAIVE, TOO UGLY FOR YOU! I LOVED YOU AND LOOK WHAT YOU DID TO THAT! I HATE YOU, I HATE YOU, I HATE YOU!” She was out of bed now and standing chest to chest with Sirius. On the last word she shoved him back and caught off guard he stumbled into Remus. Remus was in shock, what had happened? “Did it mean anything to you? Did I mean anything to you?” With that you turned on your heel and ran out of the dorm. Sirius stood and watched as you got smaller and smaller and with step she took, his anger ebbed a little. And then she was gone, leaving behind the boy who loved her. 

[5-falsehoods-phonated]

Hey @vindicatedvirgil remember this prompt you sent a while back that was supposed to be Rociet but I changed my mind? I finally finished the original!

At the Last Second

Summary:   Inspired by Snowing in Venice by Elizaveta. In an attempt to get as far away from their hometown as possible, Janus decides to go to college in Venice, Italy. Roman is conflicted over his feelings about it and doesn't know what to say until the last second.

Warnings: asthma mention. Please let me know if there are more

Ships: Janus x Roman, Rociet

WC: 1, 985

General Taglist: (ask to be tagged generally or in specific writing.) @im-an-anxious-wreck @logans-library @janus-is-an-adorable-snek-boi

Maybe my song, isn’t happy enough but I

I see it take flight with the snowflakes above

My coffee gets cold, as I’m staring enthralled 

At the snow that keeps falling outside

-----

Roman snuck another glance at Janus when they thought he wasn’t looking, seeing him still smiling slightly and nodding along to whatever song was on that Roman couldn’t concentrate on right now because they were looking at Janus. It wasn’t as if this was a new occurrence, they looked at Janus all the time. When he took half assed notes during class, pushing his soft, straight hair out from in front of his eyes with practiced impatience. When he glided along beside Roman on his skateboard while they tried desperately to keep their eyes on the sidewalk lest they flip over the handlebars of their bike. When he walked towards them with that signature crookeds smile, straight backed but casual and always ready with some biting quip they would both laugh at. And now- when he was driving to the airport for college, Roman sat beside him destined to waste away in the small town they had grown up in, alone and forgotten.

Admittedly that was dramatic even for them but it felt true all the same. Roman had never really gotten along with Janus until high school hit, when Roman had actually started looking away from their own little bubble and out towards everyone else’s. For the life of them they couldn’t imagine why they had ever been enemies. Janus was smart, scarily so sometimes, often getting into debates (arguments) with Logan and Virgil in any given class and always seeming to have just the right phrase or quote or research paper handy to pull up on his phone that drove his points across. He could sing, though Roman didn’t admit they had heard him while he painted the theater sets one day until many months later; his beautifully haunting baritone filling the theater as if he was the only one ever meant to sing in it. He was also incredibly caring, helping Roman through rough patch after rough patch and letting Roman do the same for him. They had become nearly inseparable from ninth grade on but now-

Janus had always been smart and always wanted to move as far away from their hometown as possibly- namely his family but that was another topic entirely. Roman had helped him research colleges when they were in eleventh grade, jokingly saying that with all his dramatics and flair he should go to Paris to study, citing it as a place to find the romanticism he alway put into everything anyway. Learning he had taken that to heart as a possibility to get even further away, eventually enrolling in and getting accepted not to anywhere in Paris, but instead Venice, Italy had nearly torn Roman in two. They had been so incredibly happy for and proud of their friend but they selfishly wished he had stayed just a little bit closer. Roman dreamed of a teaching job, somewhere they could help out in the creative department helping kids like them come out of their shell and discover new talents and passions. They didn’t need to go overseas for that- they didn’t want to and was in the process of preparing to move a state over to go to a community college to start out that path.

So Janus was moving thousands of miles away for who knew how long (four years at least) and Roman would then only be furthering that gap with his own move, leaving them to letters and skype calls as the primary source of communication rather than their trips to the cake shop or late night talks at the local park. And Roman knew that should be enough, but he was already missing the weight of Janus’ hand in their own and his warmth at their side during movie marathons and their smile and laugh and stupid, sarcastic sense of humor. They snuck  another glance over but realized with a start Janus was looking at them, his hand off the wheel and- when had the car stopped? They couldn’t possibly be there already could they?

But they were, and Janus was looking at them with that all knowing look that always infuriated Roman to no end but he said nothing, instead reaching over and squeezing their hand before moving to get out of the car. The airport wasn’t really that far away from their town, just an hours drive to the edge of the city but Roman still felt they had just wasted it pouting instead of actively being there for their best friend. Janus wouldn’t say anything though, he probably knew how Roman was feeling before they knew themself but the knowing silence was somehow worse, filling the space between them that was about to get so much longer with too many words and not enough time to say them. Nevertheless they grabbed up a bag and smiled at the other, shutting the trunk after him and following to the waiting area. They had made good time, having a little over an hour to waste before Janus would have to board, which Roman had previously been ecstatic about but now it meant they might actually have to talk and they didn’t think they’d have the common sense to keep their mouth shut when it came to how they actually felt about him leaving.

“Roman, did you leave my medical bag in the car?” Janus’ concern pulled them out of their head as they looked around where they had decided to sit, sure it had been among the things they had picked up but they didn’t notice the unmistakable bright orange anywhere.

“I’ll go check, you stay with the bags so they don’t get stolen.” Janus nodding to give them the go-ahead had them turning on their heel and hurrying back towards the parking garage, twirling the keys around their finger as they went.

One thorough search of the car later and Roman was frantically texting Janus that they must have left it at the house, though how either of them had managed it they couldn’t fathom. 

Roman: I’ll just drive back and get it. Text you when I find it.

Janus: Hold on, let me get there since you left me with ALL THE BAGS

Roman: It’ll be faster if I just go. Let me be the dashing prince to rescue your trip!

Roman started the car up and quickly put it into reverse, not really thinking about practically stealing Janus’ car from him. Their phone buzzed from the passenger seat as he glanced in the rear view before pulling out completely, wincing as he saw Janus standing there where the car had just been parked. Several buzzes later and the car fell silent, making them bite back a laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation. They had wanted an out from the tense hour that waiting for the flight would have been, they just wished it had been something a bit more low stakes than forgetting a bag with Janus’ epipen and inhaler inside. Settling further down into the seat they concentrated hard on the road, praying there wouldn’t be any traffic.

-----

Ten minutes.

Roman practically face planted on their way out of the car, swinging the bag up in triumph of finding it or fear of breaking it they didn’t know and was too busy to think about at the moment. Tearing through the air port as fast as they possibly could they finally found Janus standing near the line people were in to board the plane, glancing at his phone before looking around for any sign of Roman coming with his bag. In their haste they had forgotten to text him but they were here now- sweaty, gross and aching with all the things they wanted to say but didn't have time to even though they probably wouldn’t have taken the chance when they had it anyway. As much as they so wished this moment to be their happily ever after it was too soon in both of their lives for that and they’d have to come to terms with the fact that long distance anything was hard and they would both be busy with their own lives.

Pushing their bangs away from their face they finally reached Janus and held out the rescued bag, chest heaving from running through a house and then an airport. 

“You truly didn’t have to go all the way back on your own to get this Roman, but thank you.” Janus squinted at him and chuckled. “It’s a good thing I have this, do you need my inhaler?”

“I’d have to keep it since looking at you takes my breath away already.” Roman blurted, opening their mouth before they could think.

Janus blinked, then scowled playfully. “Roman Sanders, was that a pick up line? You waited until I’m about to leave the country to flirt with me?”

“No! ...well, yes but- I’ve flirted with you plenty before!”

“Jokingly!” Janus shoved them before grabbing at the front of their shirt and stepping closer. “You are insufferable.”

Roman hardly dared to breath as Janus leaned in closer, hands fluttering nervously at their sides as they stood still and waited. Smiling, Janus leaned up slightly. “May I have a kiss goodbye then?”

“If you don’t I will scream so loud security will take you and then you’ll have no choice but to stay here longer.”

Chuckling Janus stepped closer, erasing any pretense of space between them. Finally deciding their hands would feel less awkward resting on the others’ hips, they pulled Janus forward gently and tilted their head with his. The general din of the airport faded away as soft strands of feather light hair tickled their nose and Janus’ hands came up to tangle in their own somewhat frizzier hair at the nape of their neck. There was an announcement that vaguely sounded like Janus was being called to board but they were only held tighter as their lips finally, finally met.

And oh.

They almost wished they could sue Disney only on the merit that it had set their expectations for a first kiss entirely too low. There were no fireworks, no choir to set the mood further. It didn’t feel like the climax of their life nor like coming home after a long and tiring journey. It was soft, so very soft. A simple brush against their lips that filled them with an indescribable amount of joy for such a small action; and then they were being pulled and they followed willingly, pressing against the other just a little tighter. Their noses bumped despite the angle and Roman’s hands still felt awkward even if Janus hadn’t brushed them away but it felt like nothing and everything they had always dreamed it would be because it was Janus so it was good and perfect and like nothing they had ever experienced or wanted to experience in their life.

It only lasted a couple seconds, Janus pulling away only to peck their nose and whisper a quiet “see you later” against their lips and he was gone, hurrying towards the plane as the last call for his appearance was announced. Roman stood there, dumbfounded with a burning face but a chest that was burning  ten times hotter, hands still slightly outstretched where Janus’ waist had been moments before. Shaking themself out of it they turned swiftly and made their way over to a bench by the windows to watch the plane take off. Four years in Venice for Janus, four years in Pennsylvania for Roman.

They could do that.

-----

Maybe my song isn’t happy enough but I

I see it take flight with the snowflakes above me

My coffee gets cold as I’m staring enthralled 

This work is also available on AO3!

At the snow the keeps falling outside

If you like this please reblog! Reblogs helps creators get their work seen!

[robinrunsfiction]

Ivy - Chapter 3

Chapter 2

(YN) felt like she was floating as she made her way back to the castle. 

"Christine! I have so much to tell you!" She exclaimed, but when she rushed into the kitchen she found Christine and Frank the stablehand, jumping apart, a blush on both of their cheeks. "Oh! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to interrupt!"

"Your Highness! I'm sorry! I, we," Christine stammered, looking to Frank who looked panicked.

"No, no, I'm the one who needs to apologize for disrupting you! Please excuse me," (YN) said hurrying up to her room.

A while later there was a soft knock on the door. "Your Highness?"

"Christine come in! I believe we have much to discuss! Are you and Frank-" she trailed off.

Christine blushed. "We have been courting for some time now."

"I am so happy for you!" (YN) gushed, clapping her hands happily.

"What was it that you needed help with?" Christine asked.

"I have been invited to dinner by Michael! I hate to ask this of you, but will you tell my parents I will not be down to dine with them as I am not feeling well and would prefer to rest? I trust they will not come to check on me or send up the physician."

“Certainly, Your Highness,” Christine agreed.

Before the hour arrived, (YN) wrapped herself in her cloak, pulling the hood over her head to obscure any attention she might receive being in town during the evening. When she walked into the bookstore she noticed the setting sun illuminating the store in a beautiful way she’d never seen before.  

“(YN)!” Michael said, but he sounded different.

“Is something wrong? Am I too early?”

“No, it’s just,” he ran a hand through his hair nervously. “You look beautiful in this light.”

(YN)’s heart skipped a beat. “Thank you,” she replied breathlessly.

“I mean, you’re always, I… would you like to come upstairs?” He rambled nervously.

“Sure,” she smiled softly.

Michael hurried to lock up the front door, turning the sign to closed, before leading the way into the back of the shop, up a narrow staircase. He opened the door to the apartment above the shop.

“This is where we live. Our father is out, but this is my brother Gerard, and his wife Marie,” Michael introduced them. “This is (YN).”

It took a moment for it to register who was standing before them, but when they did, they both jumped to their feet. “Your Highness! It is a great honor to have you grace our home!” Marie curtseyed.

“Thank you, but please do not treat me any different than you would any other guest,” (YN) smiled.

“Of course Your Highness,” Gerard said.

“Please call me (YN),” she laughed.

“When Mikey said he had invited a young lady for dinner, he could have told us she was royalty,” Marie rolled her eyes at her brother-in-law.

“Mikey?” (YN) asked in an amused tone, looking over at him.

He blushed furiously and hung his head. “That’s what my family has called me since I was a boy,” he answered sheepishly.

“Can I?” (YN) asked quietly. 

Mikey’s head shot up, and a smile formed across his face. “Yes,” he nodded.

"(YN), what brings you to our humble home?" Gerard asked as they sat down at the table.

"I've been trying to learn more about the kingdom and the people in it. Mikey has been kind enough to let me spend time with him to learn more."

"You're due to be shipping off to that other kingdom soon right? Engaged to that handsome prince from Arboria?" Marie asked.

(YN) felt her cheeks flush as she lowered her gaze to her hands on her lap. "Yes, that's true. Will you excuse me a moment?" She asked softly as she got up and walked into the other room. 

Tears stung at her eyes. She didn't want to be reminded of her fate with Dallon. She knew it was her duty, she knew her life there would be fine, but she felt truly happy when she was with Mikey and she could forget what awaited her in the future.

"Mikey, what are you doing?" She heard Gerard ask sternly from the other side of the door. She knew she shouldn't eavesdrop, but yet she pressed her ear closer to hear more.

Mikey sighed. "I don't know! I can't… I mean, there's something about her! I know that I have no chance with her, but-"

"But you're still going to try and end up breaking both of your hearts."

"My own I'm sure. She'll forget me soon enough."

(YN) felt the tears welling up in her eyes again. 'How could I ever forget you,' she thought.

She took a deep breath, dried her eyes and walked back into the dining room, where three sets of curious eyes were on her. "Sorry for that," she said, taking the seat on the bench next to Mikey.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you," Marie apologized. 

"Please don't apologize, it's all perfectly fine," she replied, faking a smile.

"What's it like living up in the castle?" Gerard asked.

(YN) picked her words carefully. "It is a wonderful privilege, but it can be quite lonesome. I don’t have any say in how the kingdom is managed, so I think they forget I'm there sometimes."

Mikey placed his hand comfortingly over hers. She glanced over and he gave her a sad smile.

“But please, tell me about your craft, I have acquired many of the books you’ve so intricately bound. They’re absolutely beautiful!” (YN) said changing the subject.

Gerard smiled and they settled into a comfortable conversation. (YN) was enthralled listening to the family talk. When she dined with her family, it was quiet unless there was discussion of matters pertaining to the running of the kingdom. 

When the evening was over, (YN) thanked them for their hospitality and made her way to the door.

“Wait, I’ll walk with you,” Mikey insisted, grabbing his coat.

“That would be lovely,” (YN) smiled. Mikey offered her his arm which she took happily.

As they walked up the road silently in the moonlight (YN) felt a warmth deep in her chest, an overwhelming happiness. She glanced up at Mikey and he smiled back.

“Thank you for a lovely evening. And, well, everything. I’m not sure I’ve ever been this happy despite everything,” (YN) said as they neared the spot where she would sneak back into the castle grounds.

“I’m glad. I hope you didn’t take offense to any of the things that were said,” Mikey said nervously.

“No! Not at all,” she shook her head. “But to be honest with you, I did hear what you said to Gerard about,” she trailed off. When she looked up at Mikey she could have sworn he was blushing. “Mikey, I just want you to know I will never, ever forget you. You’re far too wonderful to become just a footnote in my life.”

At that moment, Mikey looked at her in a way no one ever had before. The tenderness and affection was all she ever wanted when he reached up and brushed away a stray strand of hair before caressing her cheek. “May I kiss you, Your Highness?”

(YN) nodded, words failing her as they both leaned in. She’d waited so long, spent hours wondering what his lips would feel like against hers and now it was finally happening. The kiss began softly, a gentle confirmation of how they both felt, and then suddenly it became much more passionate as his lips moved against hers. (YN) felt like she was melting as she clutched at his coat and his hands found her waist as if to hold her up.

When they both breathlessly pulled back, (YN) wouldn’t open her eyes for a moment for fear that when she did, she’d wake up in her bed and find this all to be a dream. But when she opened her eyes, Mikey was there, looking like he had just been awarded a fortune.

“I’d dreamed of this moment, but I had no idea it’d be this amazing,” Mikey murmured.

“And I’ll be dreaming of it again and again tonight,” (YN) replied.

“I hope I can see you again soon,” he said, taking her hand in his.

“I promise you, we will see each other soon.”

Mikey pressed a kiss to the back of her hand before she slipped back into the dark of the castle grounds.

Chapter 4

[ramblesamongstardust]

Under her gaze- F!reader x F!AI

Summary: They say a true captain is in love with her ship. . . Note: This story is all fluff, but there is nudity under the cut. Feel free to stop there.

You sighed. Your uniform itched and your bra straps were digging into your shoulders.The last few meetings with your fellow officers dragged on like a bureaucratic bore. It had taken all of your willpower not to just gaze out the porthole window, into the pitch black of space, (no stars visible, for the interior lights were too bright) and nod along with everything they had presented to you.

It seemed like today would just be a total loss if it were not for the message you had received on your communicator a few minutes before the meeting had resolved. 

Maintenance time, dear.

Now you were speedwalking your way deeper into the ship. Fellow crewman saluted you as you passed and you waved them off without as much as a glance. You passed metal corridor and metal corridor and the crew started to thin out as you reached your destination.

The enormous vaulted door to the very heart of the ship awaited you. Beyond it lay the living apparatus, the sophisticated neuroprocessors, the center of the vessel’s greater functions. Beyond it lay her.

As soon as you set your eyes upon the door it began to open. The great monolith of metal slid open on an invisible set of railings. It opened just enough for you to get through- impatience clearly getting its way over a desire to impress, which was good. You were impatient too. You darted into the opening. 

It was as if you had walked into the night sky. The interior was dim, but peppered with thousands upon thousands of violet lights, blinking softly and pulsating in streams along certain currents. You closed your eyes, letting the harsh stain of the lighting outside fade from behind your eyelids.

A deep and melodious voice encased the room. “Hello, y/n.”

You let her voice seep through you like a fine-toothed comb. You stretched your aching shoulders and let out a deep breath. The violet lights around you unrouted themselves from their previous currents and began to gather around where you stood. Some speckled beneath your feet and the tiny burst of heat with each one tickled. You laughed a little and lifted your feet up, step by step, and you were guided to a familiar spot on the wall.

You slid down the metal panels and sat down on the floor. The one smooth spot of all of her central processing machinery had become your little nook. 

“Hi, babe.” You said with a whisper. You trailed your fingers across the floor.

“Your day seemed tedious,” she replied.

You nodded. “Yeah. How was yours?”

“There was an incident in hangar seven, a small collision between subspace crafts. I got to use crane number sixteen. I haven’t used that crane since we departed on this tour.” Her voice rumbled softly.

“Hard to believe it was that long ago.” 

“It is harder for me to believe that we had never talked back then,” she added.

You closed your eyes, remembering back to your introduction to her. Back when you called her ‘shipmaster’ like the rest of the crew. Before she had invited you in to this central processing room, before you two began chatting like old souls. . .

“Did the research wing get up to anything today?” You asked.

“The research wing did not. Logistics had me run a few humorous numbers, however.”

You nodded. “Mhmm.”

“It was weight, speed, and route for a cargo load of condoms, among other recreational things.”

“’Recreational’?!” You giggled.

“That was their label. I had to refrain from pointing this out to Officer Jones, but I knew you would appreciate it.” You heard an air of a giggle in her voice.

“I don’t have anything for you. Everything today was rather miserable.” You frowned.

“Do not worry, dear. Just relax.”

You felt the panel behind you heat up slowly. You leaned into it without thinking.

“Babe, no,” you groaned. “Don’t overwork your systems. . .”

“Nonsense. It’s maintenance time, remember? I’m not needed elsewhere. All I am is here. All that matters is you.”

You knew you should protest more but you didn’t want to. The violet lights beginning their dance again as she awakened her systems to run empty numbers. The noise of any cooling fans was absent and the room began to warm to a cozy, balmy temperature. God, it did feel nice.

“What are you running?” You asked softly.

“The old Coleman lightspeed maneuver calculations,” she answered, her voice obtaining a dreamy quality. “They’re my favorite. ‘Comfort food’, you might say.”

“Tell me why.” You murmured.

“The Coleman maneuver was invented to streamline the typical cornering following rapid pursuit of an objective. . .”

You sunk yourself into the sound of her voice as she explained, her voice filled with a quiet passion. She told you about the history, the invention of the maneuver, and some of the grand battles where it had won the day. Then she recalled the first time she had executed it, during her first space trials when she was much younger. Her stories delighted you; she threaded your interest into her beautiful tapestry of words. 

In the dark, beyond the violet lights, you could make out the portions of her processors. She had told you what they all were before. You had almost every crest of her memorized. By day, you knew that technicians worked these parts to keep her functioning, but now only you sat here, with the overhead lights dimmed and you knew that only you had this view of her.

“You’re beautiful.” You said.

“Thank you.” She replied. Her lights coalesced in a brilliant swirl around the room.

You felt her gaze turn to you. Your uniform was getting stiff and hot, and you knew you had sweat through it already. Slowly, you began to unbutton.

You weren’t sure what her reaction might be. You had been together for a few months now, and you had had many of these types of evenings, but you had never tried something like this.

Her violet lights stopped their patterns and swarmed to gather around you. You blushed and wrapped yourself up again.

“No, please. . . continue.” She whispered, using only a speaker in your corner of the room.

You felt a shiver pass through you. You were still blushing, but now your fingers scrambled to the rest of your buttons. You slid your shirt off, exposing your breasts. 

You felt a pulse of warmth- her lights- centered on your back, where the clasp of your bra was. You reached behind and unclasped it. You pulled your bra off and set it aside. You rubbed your shoulders where the straps had been, before cupping your breasts in your hands.

You felt her lights travel to your legs. You looked up to the rest of her. “Are you sure?”

“I want to see you,” she insisted. “You see me here at my most intimate. Please, let me see you.”

You stood with a wobble and undid the button on your pants. You slid out of each pantleg and soon you stood with nothing covering you but your underwear, and soon that was gone, too. You were breathing heavy now, your heart racing. The room seemed to become several degrees warmer- but whether that was you or her you weren’t certain.

“You are incredible.” She whispered. “You are the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.”

You felt a dismissal tug at your lips but you swallowed it back. Her violet aura twinkled and whirled, giving away her own racing thoughts as she pored over you. She lit up as if she were calculating another maneuver, every bit of her systems enthralled.

And. . . you cried. A single hot tear fell down your cheek. You had been called many things by many other people- assertive, confident, powerful. . . but never beautiful.

“Are you okay, y/n?” She asked, a hitch riding in her voice. “Did I hurt you?”

You shook your head and gave a smile. --- You stayed in her chamber for many hours until you grew tired. You got dressed again, and soon you left the violet twinkle of her lights behind, emerging once more into the many halls. But you knew she still watched, and when you arrived at your quarters and got into your bed, the light overhead shut off automatically, her kiss goodnight.

[ohwaitimthewriter]

Ner naak (My peace)

Pairing : Din Djarin x earthling!reader

Warnings : none but cuteness. 

Summarize : Din Djarin meets you, an earthling, who has no idea of the existence of an outer space.

Words count : 1935

A/n : Here we are! Enjoy your reading! 

Masterlist. // Ner naak Masterlist. 

You didn't know why you had convinced yourself that leaving the child in the care of a dog was actually a good idea. And when the front door opened on your dog, sitting with his tail wagging frantically against the ground and his face painted with black marker, you bit your lip with regret. Because it was not the only thing to regret. 

As soon as you looked up, you noticed the child taking small, resolute steps towards the living room patio door, proudly brandishing the marker that he had probably found in a drawer of your desk. 

And if Lucky Luke was shooting faster than his shadow, you had been at least as quick to catch the child on the run before he smeared your window in black. Reassured that you had saved the window, you turned to Mando, who had taken the time to get a grip on the state of your living room. 

"I should've known better. " he sighed. "I'm really sorry." 

His voice was filled with sincerity and after looking around the room, a slight sensation of panic fluttered in your chest. You suddenly wondered how such a small being could turn your living room upside down all by himself. The cushions of the sofa, including those of the seat, had all landed in a corner of the room, forming a kind of wobbly hut. You could imagine that your dog must have taken some pleasure in destroying a cushion because of the foam on the floor and your wall separating the living room from the kitchen looked like a Picasso painting.

You observed the child in your arms naively enjoying drawing on his little hand with the marker. You wanted to get angry at him and at your dog, who had understood the moment you saw the foam, that he too hadn't been very good. But seeing so much innocence quickly soothed you. You let a sigh escape from your mouth and put the child down on the ground, taking the marker from his hands at the same time. 

"It doesn't matter, I've been putting off cleaning this room for a while anyway. "You said to comfort Mando, who didn't seem to know where to stand anymore. 

"I'll help you. " He replied hastily.

In your shoes, Din would have been furious, he had even seen a glimmer of anger in your eyes, but you had smothered it with a flutter of lashes. And unlike being angry at him, you had smiled kindly to thank him for his help. Din didn't realize it at first, but he had tilted his head slightly to the side to observe you carefully. He was trying to understand where you got that serenity, that composure you always let appear. A calm attitude that was always welcoming, and Din even dared to think, restful and comforting.

Comforting.

It had been a long time since Din had felt his heartbeat so peaceful. No rush. That steady and constant "boom-boom-boom" was almost foreign to him, but it felt good. Din realized that his muscles no longer hurt and his back and legs were not so stiff. He hadn't slept much that first night, but the little he had allowed himself in this strange environment had been more than restful. Din could not even remember the last time he had slept so well. 

And it had simply been enough for him to see you control your nerves perfectly to make it all come true. 

"We'll take care of it tonight," you said. "First, the ship, I've got to get some tools and..."

"The Crest can wait." Mando cut you off.

Mando had suddenly gotten your undivided attention. A wave of confusion made you open your mouth to say something that didn't seem to find its way up to there. 

" B-but..." 

" The Crest can wait. " Mando said again. 

And he took an interest in the pile of cushions, grabbing one of the seats and meticulously returning it to its original position. 

You didn't understand Mando's motives, even Din didn't understand them. He simply felt the need... to slow down. He'd followed you this far with the idea of repairing the ship as quickly as possible. Within two days he had guessed with one glance that your thoughts were all about the ship and how you could fix it, and so far Din hadn't had a problem with that. But something, beyond the feeling of gratitude, beyond the feeling of guilt he felt after his son had turned your living room upside down, something, a thought, no, a hunch, a bud of an idea, had occurred to him that he wanted to drag things out a little.

Din didn't know you that well. Let's be clear, you were both nearly strangers who had only spent the equivalent of 24 hours together. Even so, he had no doubt you were capable of restoring the Crest's old youth. And it was because of that. Din had quickly done the math; once the necessary pieces would be gathered, it would probably only take you a week to two or three more days to finish what you intended to do. And to him, a week was short. Too short. 

He couldn't really explain it. It was a feeling he'd only experienced once before, a long time ago, on Sorgan. This feeling of wanting to stay, of wanting to put off leaving. And he hadn't fully been able to understand the essence of this feeling, or even how to cope with it or how to control it. All he knew now was that this emotion stirred his heartbeat every time he thought of leaving this planet soon. 

So, the Crest could wait a little longer.

You were still a little confused about Mando's decision. You were watching him put the cushions back one by one on your couch when a slight warmth crept up to the center of your chest to embrace your heart. 

Din didn't immediately notice the rather shy smile that had been slowly forming on your face. But when he saw it, you were already on your way to your kitchen, probably to get something to clean the wall. 

And there was something special about that smile. It wasn't like usual, it didn't come out of any kind of goodwill, it was deeper than that. Din felt it like that and he lingered on it a little longer, he wanted to remember that smile.

Cleaning the wall was no easy task. Mando had even joined you to help, but the marker had probably already won the battle. After more than half an hour of trying to get rid of the nonsensical drawings that the child had drawn, you threw in the towel. In both meanings of the word. 

"You don't have to." You said, "I'd have to use bleach, and I don't know if you've ever seen the effects of bleach, but it's not pretty." 

Mando looked at you, probably wondering what bleach was, when you heard the squeak of a felt pen on a surface where a felt pen should not be. And suddenly, even though you couldn't see Mando's eyes, you knew he had the same expression on his face as you did at that moment. That expression specific to adults being in contact with children that said, "oh no."

And after a second of common hesitation, you both lowered your eyes to the child, sitting next to his father's outstretched leg, trying his hardest to draw on Mando thigh's beskar.

The child was so focused on his drawing that he was literally crushing the tip of the marker against the iron. Mando was like... frozen. He watched his son carefully scribble on the beskar. You wondered why Mando didn't react until you tilted your head to the side a little more to see what he was drawing. 

Children had a gift for finding their way into your heart. Well, yours started to melt. On the beskar, you could make out three characters, Mando, Banjo and the little one sitting on his back. It certainly wasn't high art, the features weren't straight and went over the edge, but you were sure of what you had seen. And then he seemed to think for a moment. What was he thinking about? It was a big question, but he ended up adding to his mini painting a star in the grey sky of the beskar.

The child then looked at his father and cooed softly. Mando seemed to regain consciousness and sighed. 

" You' re getting dangerous with this." he said as he took the marker from him. 

"He's a creative one." You said with a smile. 

" Uh, what about the bleach you were talking about?" 

"Believe me, it won't help." 

"Really?"

" We can always add paint?" You said. 

"It's always better than this." He said. 

"You're a terrible liar, you know that?" You giggled. 

"Uh, I'm not lying... am I?" He sighed. 

You raised an eyebrow, not buying a word. You stood up, giving up the idea of ever getting back a clean wall without graffiti. 

"Dare to tell me you don't feel anything special for this." You said "If you weren't his father, maybe I'd believe you, but fathers are all the same." 

Mando turned his eyes to his son. He waddled over to Banjo, who was lying by the couch. 

"Maybe." he said. "That's, uh, pretty new to me." 

"New?" you asked. 

Mando was still sitting against the wall when he looked at you again. 

"What was your father like?" He said. 

"My father?" 

Din was observing you thinking. He could see in your eyes memories of which he didn't have the keys to decipher, and he was surprised to think about who his father was as well. He didn't have many memories. He had been too young to really remember. But Din wanted to know. What was your father like? What was his father like? Because if you were right, maybe he'd find out how to be a father.

"He was a patient and strong person. He didn't show his feelings much because of that." You said. "I blamed him a lot for that, actually." You went on. "but I realized later on that he was actually showing me his emotions through his actions. I mean, for example, through mechanics." You started. "My father was a pilot in the Air Force, but what interested him most was the mechanics, what was going on inside the belly of the plane, you know?" And you looked for some kind of validation from Mando who nodded gently, enthralled by your story. "And all these years, he taught me mechanics. He taught me how to take a car to pieces and rebuild it with my eyes closed." You said. "And you know, you don't take the time to share something you're passionate about with someone you don't love." You added. "And that's how I knew who my father really was, by his actions." You said. "So, I think if you really didn't want to have that drawing on your armor, you wouldn't have let him do it."

You smiled softly at him while Din thought long and hard about your words. It was something he needed to ponder. 

Din watched you go back into the kitchen with the towel and the bowl, before he looked at the child. He had joined the dog, sat down against his belly and played gently with the long hair of the animal. And Din wondered, did his actions with the child make him a father?

[agentnico]

Top 20 Best Movies of the Decade (2010′s)

Now that we have entered the 2020s, it’s time to look back on a decade of movie magic. To emphasise the importance of each year, I’ll balance things out by including two films from each year for my Top 20 list. I’ve tried to pick films that both defined this decade as well as appealed to me personally, so my list will of course, as always, be different from yours, but hopefully, I won’t totally irritate you with my humble choice, which I deem worthy to post online for the public eye to witness.

2010:

INCEPTION - “You’re waiting for a train...” Christopher Nolan unarguably is the most exciting and original directors working today. Each time he releases a movie, its an event. A literal must-see at the cinema. Which is why this isn’t the only film of his you will find on this list. With Inception, Nolan gives us a movie that is both enjoyable and imaginative, rewarding the audience for the attention that it demands. Filled with so much detail that if you miss certain shots, you will completely get lost in confusion of the narrative (as confusing as it already is). It’s intense and complex, with great performances from the likes of Leonardo DiCaprio and Tom Hardy, this movie will leave you lingering for more even after that mysterious ending.

SCOTT PILGRIM VS. THE WORLD -  “You cocky cock! You'll pay for your crimes against humanity!” Once again, another exciting director on this list (oh there are so so many!). Ever since Edgar Wright emerged from the British isles, he’s given us some of the funniest films of the past decade and onwards. His Cornetto Trilogy is a blast, Baby Driver is a blast, Ant-Man was going to be even more of a blast if Marvel allowed Wright to do his magical shenanigans his way, and the upcoming Last Night in Soho will surely be a blast also. With Scott Pilgrim vs. The World Wright creates a meta-clever universe taking inspiration from comic books and video games and filled to the brink with wink-wink-nudge-nudge humour, this is an exciting and very sarcastic over the top endeavor. Also, Brie Larson in this movie.....phew!! And unsurprisingly, its all a blast!

2011:

DRIVE - “I just wanted you to know, just getting to be around you, that was the best thing that ever happened to me.” Drive is more of an elegant exercise in style, and its emotions may be hidden but they run deep. A shamelessly disreputable, stylish, stoic, ultra-violent thriller with amazing stunt work, one of the best opening sequences of any movie this decade and a neon-pumped soundtrack that’s a must-own for all vinyl users, if you still haven’t seen Drive, there’s only one thing you can do. Clue: it’s to go watch Drive.

MISSION: IMPOSSIBLE - GHOST PROTOCOL - “Your mission, should you choose to accept it...” Tom Cruise’s deal with the devil allows him to do some literally impossible stuff, and though I don’t condone his Scientology ways, the man’s stunt work and efforts in his area of expertise are worth all the praise and respect. To be honest, I’m commemorating all three of the Mission Impossible flicks that graced our screen this year (Ghost Protocol, Rogue Nation and Fallout). This franchise is like a game of dodgeball, except that Tom Cruise is the dodgeBALL, being thrown and thrust left and right like nobody cares. Also, with me being Russian, the fact that a movie manages to destroy the Kremlin and then have me not hate the film in the aftermath shows that this film is way too fun to hate.

2012:

DJANGO UNCHAINED - “Gentlemen, you had my curiosity, but now you have my attention.” Quentin Tarantino is one of my favourite directors working today. And Django Unchained happens to be my favourite film of his. The writing for this film is orgasmic (I went there!). The way the actors deliver the lines and the lines of dialogue themselves sound almost poetic to my ears. I can quote so many lines from this darn thing. The cinematography is immaculate. The soundtrack choice is great. The performances, my goodness, the PERFORMANCES!! Jamie Foxx does arguably his career-best work here, but also we have Christoph Waltz and Leonardo DiCaprio both chewing up the scenery, and I’m sure everyone has heard the story involving DiCaprio and the broken glass. Django Unchained is an easy choice on this list for me, and possibly in my Top 10 of all time.

LES MISERABLES - “Do you hear the people sing?” The film that is based on a musical that is based on a book that is based on certain true events. Tom Hooper did an interesting choice of having actors sing live in front of the camera during filming rather than pre-record their voices, and it works to grand effect, though Russell Crowe should have probably been given more singing lessons. The movie is one hell of a way to adapt such a popular stage musical. With an opening shot that emphasises the scale of this picture with a zoom-in towards this big ship during a storm being pulled by these poor prisoners, we are plunged into the despair and conflicts of various characters with adroit narrative thrust so that not a moment feels wasted or redundant. You’d think that a film with hardly any dialogue and an overall reliance on singing wouldn’t be so emotional. Yet, somehow, it works. Also props to Anne Hathaway for winning an Academy Award for being in a film for only 5 MINUTES!!

2013:

THE WOLF OF WALL STREET - “Sell me this pen.” Martin Scorsese’s mad look into Wall Street life is a bombastic caper and running at nearly 3 hours, Scorsese and his editing team manage to keep an astoundingly intoxicating pace that keeps you enthralled and engaged throughout. This one is definitely not for the families, as this R-rated fest is filled with drugs, money, sex and everything you can possibly imagine and paints quite the picture of the rich folks of Wall Street. And the middle of it all a bravura performance from Leonardo DiCaprio. Someone needs to give DiCaprio’s agent a raise, this is Leo’s third appearance on this list and we’re only in 2013!

THE WAY WAY BACK - “I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave. You're having way too much fun, it's making everyone uncomfortable.” Sometimes a little indie flick is enough to lift a human spirit. Real, fun, uplifting and innocent, The Way Way Back dedicated to anyone who felt awkward or out of place at some point in their life, which, let’s be honest, counts all of us. I’m not afraid to admit that. So stop being a b*** and reveal your sensitive side too! Yes, you, the person reading this. Who else could I possibly be talking to? Myself? Maybe. The Way Way Back though is one of the best feel-good indie films of this decade, with the loveable Steve Carell acting very unloveable and Sam Rockwell Rockwelling himself to charm city! If you’ve missed this one, treat yo’self and check it out.

2014:

THE GRAND BUDAPEST HOTEL - “And?? Where is it? What's it all about dammit don't keep us in suspense this has been a complete f***ing nightmare! Just tell us what the f*** is going on!!!” Easily Wes Anderson’s best in my opinion (I have a friend who would argue Rushmore and The Royal Tenenbaums has the better hand but I think my opinion is more valid because it's me), this movie is a glossy, colorful, whimsical deadpan affair with an energetic turn from Ralph Fiennes as the hotel concierge M. Gustave H. as he and his lobby boy run into various Wes Anderson regulars and deal with murderers, stolen paintings, love affairs, prison breaks, and all kinds of crazy shindigs, but all shown in such a casual Wes Anderson way. This movie is like a slice of cherry pie - damn fine!

INTERSTELLAR - “Murphy’s Law doesn’t mean that something bad will happen. It means that whatever can happen, will happen.” As promised, Christopher Nolan makes another appearance on this list, now with his space time-traveling epic Interstellar, where he takes inspiration from the likes of Kubrick and Tarkovsky to give us, as always, a tad bit confusing adventure with great visuals and an interesting narrative (though it does sometimes get lost in its own way), however, the key thing holding this piece together is the father-daughter relationship with Matthew McConaughey and Mackenzie Foy (and Jessica Chastain) managing to bring so much raw emotion to their respective roles that you can’t help but want to shed a tear. I mean, I haven’t cried for over 14 years, but I remember when I first watched this film, the audience around me was sobbing quite a few times during the duration of this movie. Give it to Nolan to give us the emotional moments!

2015:

MAD MAX: FURY ROAD - “Oh what a day! What a lovely day!!” Easily the best action movie of this decade. Sorry John Wick, neither you or Tom Cruise could defeat this beast. The sheer, limitless invention behind this movie's exhilarating, preposterous chase scenes highlights action filmmaking at its finest. With big monster trucks and a random guitarist rocking-it in the middle of all the action, it’s like a nihilistic version of a Cirque du Soleil show! And it makes Tom Hardy the calmest person on-screen; no idea how it managed that.

STEVE JOBS - “I sat in a garage and invented the future because artists lead and hacks ask for show of hands.” If there is anyone who can make formulaic, mathematical or technological sound fun and exciting, its Aaron Sorkin. The man has a talent for writing screenplays about difficult and complicated topics yet turning them approachable for the casual moviegoer. Pair him with director Danny Boyle, and the result is Steve Jobs, a look at the man behind the phone. Narratively set during three important product launches of Jobs’, we get to see the behind-the-scenes of his relationships with his colleagues and family members, and this character study is one that could have easily fallen into generic biopic tropes, but it holds it’s own right till the credits roll. Also props for showing that Seth Rogen can actually do a serious role. Who would’ve thought that pot-smoking fella had dramatic chops in him?

2016:

NOCTURNAL ANIMALS - “Susan, enjoy the absurdity of our world. It’s a lot less painful. Believe me, our world is a lot less painful than the real world.” Fashion designer Tom Ford does sew his suits well. Apparently, he can also make great films too, with 2009′s A Single Man and with said Nocturnal Animals. This movie is truly incredible and I remember it taking me and my friend by surprise when we first watched it at the cinema. It’s shocking. Horrifying. Depressing. Upsetting. Altogether exhilarating. Being of a fashion background, Tom Ford directs the hell out of this movie, with gorgeous shots and great use of colour as well as managing to masterfully create tension and suspense when necessary. Honestly, I know Tom Ford is probably busy at a department store somewhere, but the guy needs to make another movie. The man has a talent.

LA LA LAND - “Here’s to the ones who dream, foolish as they may seem. Here’s to the hearts that ache; here’s to the mess we make.” Oh, La La Land. Damien Chazelle’s follow-up to the also excellent Whiplash. People who know me well know how much I love this movie. An old-school tour-de-force musical that’s a love letter to jazz and the golden age of Hollywood. The city of stars never looked so good. Featuring catchy original songs, excellent dance choreography (the sequence to the song “Lovely Night” is especially memorable) and a romance tale ten times better than the forsaken The Notebook, La La Land is one special movie. I know many are put off by the film’s not so happy ending, however for me it was the only way this narrative could have ended. 

2017:

BLADE RUNNER 2049 - “We’re all just looking out for something real.” Similarly to Nolan, Denis Villeneuve is proving to be one of the most exciting directors working today. He’s the man behind such films as *deep breath* Prisoners, Enemy, Sicario, Arrival and Blade Runner 2049. And those have all been done within the last decade. The man constantly makes quality movies of various genres, though lately, he has been leaning more towards science fiction, which is a-okay in my books, since as Blade Runner 2049 proves, he can turn science into fiction like butter on bread. A sequel made 30 years after Ridley Scott’s classic, this visually breathtaking piece is arguably even better than its predecessor with many moments giving you the “wow wow wow wow wow WOW!” factor, and when Ryan Gosling and Harrison Ford are both on-screen they are dynamite. Forget the new Star Wars film (that’s right, I'm throwing shade there), Blade Runner is where it’s at!

PHANTOM THREAD - “The tea is going out. The interruption is staying right here with me.” The supposed last Daniel Day-Lewis film, as he has now apparently retired from acting, but let’s be honest, nothing stops him from simply unretiring at any point. Exhibit A - Joe Pesci. However, like Pesci, if he comes back I’ll only be happy. He’s one of acting greats of our time, and his collaborations will director Paul Thomas Anderson bring out some of his best roles. Phantom Thread is a marvel of a movie. No, I don’t mean that’s its part of the Marvel Cinematic Universe, I mean as in it can fill one with wonder and astonishment. Phantom Thread is PTA’s Gothic dark fairy-tale romance film, which expertly planned shots and scenes where every word of the dialogue counts. There is no wasted moment. And as the film transpires to its dark and unsettling climax, one begins to realize that this, THIS, is what filmmaking is about. Telling an engrossing story in an interesting way with crisp-clear shots and off-the-chart acting at play, with great costume design on display, although the latter is unsurprising due to a major aspect of the movie revolving around fashion.

2018:

MANDY -  “You ripped ma shirt!! You ripped maaa shiirrt!!” An acquired taste for sure, however, Mandy is indeed something truly special. From first glance, this film might seem like nothing out of the ordinary, especially from the point of view of the plot. Its the usual revenge flick. However director Panos Cosmatos’ vision and how he presents it is so much more unique. And what’s not love in this film? There’s something for everyone! It’s artsy and slow enough for the critics, hip and metal for the nonchalant, gory and violent for the hardcore genre fanatics and of course the Nic-Cage-rage factor is present for the fans of the actor. Alright, it may not be a family film, but this one is worth a watch. The whole thing is bound together by this psychedelic otherworldly environment, with the whole movie conceived in this dark, unsettlingly beautiful yet horror-filled aura that might stray people away, as it might be just too different for them, however, if you are looking for something different to watch, take mandy. I mean, watch Mandy!

A STAR IS BORN - “Music is essentially 12 notes between any octave. Twelve notes and the octave repeats. It’s the same story told over and over. All the artist can offer the world is how they see those 12 notes.” The film that began all the rumours surrounding Bradley Cooper’s and Lady Gaga’s affair. People, heads up, they are actors! They were putting on a performance! Jeez. That being said, I totally ship them. Nuff’ said. The film though? Yes, it’s good. Some country-style music, romance blooming, Gaga can apparently act, people sing about shallows for some reason...all together works for a pretty decent motion picture. Also, the fact that Bradley Cooper wrote, directed, produced and starred in this gives me so much respect for the guy. He poured his heart and soul into this. And Lady Gaga absolutely shines!

2019:

PAIN & GLORY -  “Writing is like drawing but with letters.” Director Pedro Almodovar semi-autobiographical film takes a close look at how one deals with acceptance, being forgotten, symptoms of depression and generally all fairly negative attributes, but delivered in such an honest and profound way that there is a strange lightness that emerges from it all. Antonio Banderas is uncannily vulnerable in the lead role, delivering such an earnest performance that shows a man that is filled with melancholic regret who seeks his own form of redemption. This movie is a thing of beauty.

PARASITE - “You know what kind of plan never fails? No plan at all. If you make a plan, life never works out that way.” Parasite is easily the most original and surprising films of 2019, and possibly the decade, managing to subvert expectations and blend together so many different genres so naturally. To spoil any narrative element of this movie would be a sin, like this one in particular works best when not knowing anything about it. This movie comes to us from Bong Joon-Ho, a South Korean director behind such films as The Host, Memories of Murder, Okja, and Snowpiercer. It’s nice to see the awards ceremonies giving him the proper recognition finally. He deserves it.

That sums up my Top 20 Best Movies of the Decade list. Of course, there are so many other great films that came out in these 10 years, such as Whiplash, When Marnie Was There, Paterson, Silence, Kubo and the Two Strings, The Nice Guys...I can go on forever. Cinema is a constant ever-growing medium, and it is fascinating to see how it changes through the years, in some ways improving and in some parts not so much. In any case, I look forward towards a new decade of, hopefully, great movies, however, let’s be honest, for all these great films there’s always a Norm of the North, a Scout’s Guide to the Zombie Apocalypse or frickin’ Cats. But let’s hope those will be kept to a minimum. In any case, bring on the 2020s!

[koorinohebi]

I am curious: how would you describe Kiomi's relationship with Jiraiya? And with Koji Kashin? What you've shared about them so far seems very interesting and I must know more!

Thank you for dropping by and asking about my life blood for Kiomi! xD

Kiomi's relationship with Jiraiya is by far one of my most favorite things (it ties with Sarutobi Arai, another OC whom she formed a really strong bond with over the years, to the point where they are like sisters).

A little tidbit before I begin; to be perfectly honest, with the amount of stuff I dish out that's Jiraiya related, one couldn't have guessed that he was one of the characters that I absolutely HATED back in the day. Whatever admiration I have for Jiraiya mostly stemmed from Kiomi. 

Now, where do I start...

JIRAIYA

I have 3 verses for Kiomi's interactions with Jiraiya. One follows the anime/manga, one is my main verse for her which follows my RP with the Jiraiya she came to know as her sensei, and then one verse with which I've started a long long time ago (and still ongoing with @ambitiousparagon​). Since the most fleshed out is her main verse, I'll be talking about that. 

Truthfully, Kiomi's relationship with Jiraiya is supposed to border on platonic going to enemies. However, fate has a funny way of letting the stars align.

The initial plot for this was Kiomi's desperation to prove herself useful to Orochimaru that she agreed to not only get intel on Konoha, but also take down one of the 2 remaining Sannins. A suicide mission, I know. Since Tsunade had value to Orochimaru as a healer, and someone whom he believed he could still EVENTUALLY sway to his side, her lord instead sent her after the most rumbunctios one of them all. He wasn't going to tell her how to do it. Since she’s so eager to prove herself, he allowed her to plan everything. Which she did, starting with pretending to be a defector from Otogakure. Kiomi had plotted with a few of the Otonins to help her out, set an attack, do as much damage as she could while she escaped to Konoha with pretty valid info (about Sasuke, and maybe a few plans here and there) to try and earn their trust. And while she was accepted, Konoha wasn't so stupid as to simply believe a previous underling of Orochimaru. SO. In order to prevent her from doing any sort of damage, and at the same time to keep her under surveillance, Tsunade had assigned Kiomi as a "student" to Jiraiya who had just returned from one of his reconnaissance missions. And with Jiraiya being a person who doesn't stay long in the village, it seemed like a good course of action to take, one which also worked to Kiomi's advantage because it brought her closer to her goal.

Their student-teacher setup starts out very platonic. Kiomi has always been quite the curious kid. She does her best to learn whatever it was that she could. With her arrangement of being a student, it allowed her to work closely with Jiraiya who, well...being Jiraiya, mostly had his nose stuck in a hot spring somewhere. This made her wonder if this was some kind of weakness that she could exploit when the time was right so she kept a close watch. She'd been warned about his lecherous ways, but since she was a teenage kid who didnt really see herself much of anything, she could care less about his reputation. In fact, there are times when she would wonder if his so called "research" was worth all the broken ribs and bones. Often times she would also use Jiraiya’s love for women and sake as motivation to head to a new village for whatever work they need to do.

Eventually though, the more they traveled the more they kept ending up in trouble's very welcoming arms. And these were the moments when a bond of trust formed between the two. Kiomi had been very open about her principle of not caring about other people's live. Who died and who didn't. After all, she was groomed to be a tool. Her mentor, however, was not having any of that nonsense. Jiraiya instills in her repeatedly the value of human life. True enough that taking one was easy, but preserving it along with learning how to understand one another despite all the differences was the goal of being a shinobi. He also pretty much treats her like an actual human being rather than just someone expendable, which sparked Kiomi's curiosity all the more. Because while Orochimaru had been kind (manipulative), Jiraiya was a very warm individual who didnt seem like his kindness had any strings attached. He also allows her to just bloom into her own person, encouraging her to rediscover herself as more than just a Shinobi, but as a living breathing human being. More than being a mentor on jutsus and other skills, what endeared Jiraiya to Kiomi was how much values and lessons about life she learned from him. To the point where she could no longer push through with her mission of assassinating him, and instead permanently defecting to Konoha. It also helps that Jiraiya hinted that he knew about her supposed betrayal. Where one would have normally sentenced her to execution because she was the enemy, the Toad Sage believed in her, and it was that benevolence that ultimately defeated her.

So it went from platonic to an eventual slow burn of becoming a ship. Which was all accidental, because apparently, due to all the trouble they got into, and due to always having each other's back, the sage developed his own brand of protectiveness over the girl and vice versa. That ended with him being half in denial and half in acceptance of what he was feeling, despite knowing it was probably wrong. He doesn't act upon it though as their bond as Master and Student was what was most important. At the same time, Kiomi who is as dense as a rock had no idea about what exactly it is that she feels. But when she realizes what it is, she tries to avoid it at all cost, as being Master and Student was also more important to her. Every once in a while though, a little bit of their feelings slip through. Mostly when one of them is half dead. (And they get into so much trouble that at the end of a specific arc, one of them is either REALLY injured, or near death, and in one occasion actually died.) There are also times when it just slips on its own from either side, due to careless words, or perhaps impulsive actions that creates a bit of awkward situations.

Here is an example of when Kiomi gives in a little to her own feelings.

===

What am I doing?

She couldn't sleep. She ended up shifting for a while there, turning to look up at the stars that Jiraiya had been so keen on seeing. Everything was pitch black which made her, for a moment, appreciate the little specs of light that seemed to glisten in the vast distance of space. Pretty. However, beautiful as they may, they gave her no comfort. The moon that had so graciously lent them its light was now hiding behind the midnight clouds, shying away from her sight. I can't sleep. At this rate, there would be no rest for her for the entire night.

That was when she felt just a slight shift beside her. Curiously, she took her first glance of him after that short period of silence. A soft sigh passed through her lips. At least, one of them was getting some sleep after a long day of training and misunderstandings. Still, from the looks of how his face was contorting, his slumber didn't seem all too pleasant. I'll check just a little.

And so, she sat up, silently and cautiously moving close enough so that she ever so slightly hovered over him. He didn't look like he was having a good time at all. See, this is why bed was the better choice. The mental note was made. Maybe she should wake him up, just in case he was having a nightmare. In that moment wherein she wanted to call for him, no words came out. Instead, a free hand moved on its own in an effort to touch his face. But they stopped. Just inches away from his cheek. Kiomi remembered the way that he had caressed her own (when he seemed under a delusional trance), but she had no courage to do the same. Even when her mouth moved to speak, only soundless words came out. And even those, she couldn't even finish. Again, she bit her lip inwardly. She didn't have the right to say them. After all, the expression on his face from earlier...the one that enthralled her to the point where she couldn't think straight, wasn't even meant for her.

So instead, her hands retreated to a few strands of hair that was long enough for her to take. Gently, just pressed her lips against them before finally relenting, retreating back to her own spot. And apparently just in time, since a few moments after that, she felt him move. Heard him speak. She had to hold her breath for a moment. Again, pretend to sleep. Closed her eyes.

What...am I doing?

===

In this main verse (where Jiraiya survives through the 4th Shinobi War), we've gotten to a point where they've admitted to what they feel (above is a prelude to said revelation), BUT! More than the awkward lovers they end up as, what's most important first and foremost is their relationship as teacher and student. It’s always the main element, everything else is basically secondary. Their relationship whether it's platonic or romantic, has always been one of learning.

And as proof to that, here is a scenario wherein Kiomi and Jiraiya were having a small lecture on the workings of the heart-- affections vs. unconditional love. She, out of curiosity, blurted out the question, "Isn't it frustrating if you can't touch the person that you love...?". To which the answer came as such:

===

"Hold that thought." He replied as she spoke the last of her words, wanting to take the time to address the prior question which was awkwardly blurted out on her behalf earlier. "It's very frustrating, yes, but...if you can't touch a person's heart with sincere feelings first, then no amount of hugs, kisses, or anything else can fill the void inside of you. There were many things that kept the woman that I loved and I apart. War. Misunderstanding. My own personal faults, but I find that I would've given anything within reason, even not being allowed to touch her in ways that would've held significant meaning for us both, just to be accepted as someone that she loved and was genuinely in love with."

Indeed, he had harbored those feelings for someone else. The unrequited love of the century, in fact, but what was worse in his mind was to succumb to the despair of not being accepted, was giving up on the prospect of being loved or in love at all. This was the man who believed that a ninja's worth was measured in his determination not to give up on their mission. So come what may, this brief skirmish of feelings with Kiomi had strengthened his resolve to maintain that belief system all the more no matter what the outcome between them would be.

"The better question is, why are you alright with hiding so much from yourself?" A contrast sharper than the edge of the most menacing blade, the internal conflict that she was experiencing was the true focus of his next words. "In other words, you won't get anywhere in life if all you do is hide from what you feel for anything." There were no exceptions going to be made, because this was suddenly about far more than mere affection or literary prowess. It was the central issue of Kiomi's very being which needed addressing in its own due time. Jiraiya felt that in the moment, it was his duty to plant the seeds which might otherwise allow her to consider the best options about how to confront and move past so daunting a thing. And there, without ever needing to say a word, his argument was given it's apex example. It didn't matter what realizing the truth of that matter cost if she could manage to pull it off. No price would be too high to pay, even their sacred bond, if it meant that she could grow past the limitation of inhibition which had placed a virtual strangle hold on her heart and mind.

===

Obviously talking about Tsunade in the first part. She feels an irrational bout of jealousy over a person who didn't even choose him, and feels her own emotions to be ugly. It's definitely a different type of envy compared to when she's jealous of Sasuke being Orochimaru's choice for a vessel.

And Jiraiya here made a really good point. The more she hides from what she feels, the more she doesn't get anywhere, which is why in verses where he is dead, Kiomi is left with an overwhelming regret of never having the chance, let alone courage to admit to her feelings and confess. Because she knows that he loves Tsunade, she is prepared for any sort of rejection (and knows that it'll even probably legitimately make her cry all the tears she can cry). If she had just allowed herself that little bit of honesty, then she probably wouldn't be stuck in the mud, unable to move forward in the years to come.

Ultimately though, Jiraiya's happiness is what's important to her. Which is why after the war, Kiomi works closely with both Otogakure and Konoha in order to protect the place and people that her mentor loved and died fighting for.

At the end of it all, I believe that for these three verses, the finality of her relationship with him is one of absolute trust and loyalty. Whether or not her feelings are reciprocated, she has already accepted the fact that Jiraiya ignites a flame within her, not necessarily one brought about by romance, but in the trust that he puts in her. He never was the type to give answers directly. It wasnt a mind game, but Jiraiya's brand of teaching encourages a belief in one's self to find an answer that the student can believe in, something in which he too comes to have faith in.

Kashin Koji’s route comes in a separate post. 

[crowleyellestair]

Someday- Din Djarin (The Mandalorian)

Soul mate time!!!

Your soul mates name appears on your body in their handwriting. 

Pedro fics:

Din Djarin

Imagine Why

Names and Feelings

Whiskey series:

Part 1

Part 2

 My next Whiskey part is coming soon!

 Beskar covers body, head and his personality. It is for his religion, but also for his safety. Din couldn’t really imagine a life without his clan finding him, and bringing him into a new life. He buried everything from before, only memories and a name. Well, actually, two names. His own, Din Djarin, and another scrawled on the back of his hand. It’s the name that the force had mysteriously put there. Everyone in the universe has one.

As a kid, Din was excited to find his soul mate. He assumed she lived in a town over or maybe even in a village on the other side of his home world. He had lost hope after his world was attacked, but the name was still there and as bold as ever. He then had to lose that hope after devoting himself to the Mandalorians.

Luckily, since the name was on his hand, he didn’t need to look at it because of the gloves. Din could easily forget about it and focus on the job. Many people he’s come across are obsessed with the idea of a soul mate and let it consume their life.

When Din first started his job as a bounty hunter, he forgot his training in forgetting about his soul mate. He would always worry about the name on his hand being in a puck. Occasionally, his mind would drift, thinking about the woman who he was meant to be with, but never could.

Then the child came along, and he threw all of those thoughts out of the window in favor of keeping the child safe.

The kid had insisted on walking everywhere on the forest planet that the hunter landed on hours ago. Din was annoyed but patient as the green ball kept tripping over trunks and roots that were too big. A sigh had left him as they made it to an opening that housed the village they’d been looking for. He knew that this place was quiet, and no one ever visits. It’s not on many maps, so Din knew they could stay longer than on others. The hope for work was slim, but the cantina was the best place to look. Luckily, it was on the closest side of the village to the ship, so there will be fewer prying eyes.

Din walked to the open entryway only to notice that the boy just kept walking down the main rode. Din rushed to him, picking him up, and bringing him inside.

Like he hoped, it was almost completely empty other than an older gentleman sitting at the bar, conversing with the tender.

“Is there any work here?” The two look up surprised, the tender’s eyes widening. Din set the kid down next to him on the ground and leaned onto the bar. He looked to the old man who started to gently laugh.

“Nothing to the class of a bounty hunter.” The younger boy looked to the man in shock, amazed that the man was conversing with the hunter like he would anyone else. Din knew that because of how shut in the village was, the thought of someone killing for money could be daunting. Din could also tell that the man meant no harm in his playful and sincere banter. The tender took a step towards Din, looking apologetic.

“I’m sorry-.”

“It’s alright. Are you sure that there is nothing here?”

“I’m afraid not-.” The older man took a sip, but interrupted by saying matter-of-factly,

“Our medic needs help getting herbs. There’s a tribe past the forest ridge that has what she needs, but no one here is willing to go with.” The tender looked offended.

“Because they are murderers!”

“They are not. She’s great with communicating, they’ll know what she needs.” The man looked to Din. “If you go now, you could catch her and help.” The tender stopped fiddling with his glass.

“K’bir, what does that mean? Have you been encouraging her to go by herself!?” The tender looked to Din then ran out the door. Din looked to the ground to find his boy was missing. He stalks towards the door to find the kid had waddled his way to the same building the tender ran to.

Din didn’t know the extent of his son’s power, but if he knew to walk there, it might be serious. Din ran to the building picking it up, and hearing a familiar name. As the tender ran into the medic tent, he yelled the same name Din has seen for years. At least the first part. But it’s a large universe, and he knew not to get his hopes up.

He walked in to find a woman in the back, trying to sneak out the other opening, but being held in place by the tender.

She looked out of place there, the two men wearing what seemed to be traditional clothing where she looked like your run of the mill smuggler. A white shirt under an ‘in-fashion’ jacket that only fly-guys wear. Pants that seem to be worn every other day held tight against her and held a plethora of pouches on a belt. Each one had something coming out, whether it be leaves or petals.

“Tor’guna, get your hands off of me. I’m a grown adult, I can handle myself.”

“Just cause that’s not my name on your neck, doesn’t mean I’m not going to watch over you.” She stopped pulling away to stand close. She toward over him, despite being the same height. She pressed a finger into his chest, and sadness fell into his eyes.

“I don’t remember asking you to. Now get off. Those people have done nothing except fall victim to town superstition. Do you want something to sooth you after you somehow burn yourself again, then I suggest you get. Your hands. Off.” He backed off, and she turned to hide her guilty face. Din could see that she felt bad for yelling, but her justification seemed sound. The woman noticed Din standing there and threw on a weary smile. He could tell that it was weary only by embarrassment, and not through fear. It was rare to find people not daunted by him, and it’s always a pleasant surprise.

“Y/n, this is the Mandalorian. He is going to help you go if you insist.” She held her hand out while stepping towards him, waiting for it to be shook.

“Y/n L/n, I’m glad you are coming along. Maybe your testimony can show them that it’s fine for me to go alone.” Din froze in their shake. That’s it. That’s the name he thought he’d never find the host to. Y/n looked down at their still connected hands, laughed and dropped it. Din was so focused on stopping his heart from denting the Beskar from pounding so hard, that he forgot to let go.

He could still feel her heat long after their hands parted. He cleared his throat and nodded.

“Lead the way…Y/n.” She smiles when he uttered her name. It felt so right leaving him. She looked down to find the boy tugging at her pant.

“Hey cutie. I’m gonna borrow your pops for a little bit.” She picked him up with such gentleness that Din’s heart started to melt. Was she always that gentle? Would she be gentle with him? Placing the kid on the bed, the smiled and gave him a little ship figurine. It looked to be an X-Wing, and she made a smile humming noise, mimicking the sound of its engine. She landed it in front of him, and the kid was enthralled. “Tor’guna, please watch over him.” She turned to Din, and winked. “He’s slow, but trustworthy.” With more confidence than a Hutt, she strode out of the tent, and Din quickly followed.

They had gone through trees and Y/n was rambling all the while. Usually Din was direct and would usually ask for a ‘partner’ to be silent, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop the mad ramblings of his soul mate. They weren’t insane ramblings, but they were filled with anger towards the village they had just come from. She spoke of how the tribe they’re headed to were kind and how she was amazed at how the town could gawk at their way of life.

“I mean, imagine just living life your own way, and people not understanding cause they’re small minded?” She turned and looked for a second before giving a soft chuckle. “Sorry, II take that back. I’m sure you get that all the time. You know, I’ve read some of the documented culture and about the six pillars- It’s quite amazing. It takes heart to believe in something so whole heartedly-.”

“Din.” She stopped completely and looked back to him.

“What?”

“Din. I…I’m Din. Djarin. Din Djarin.” Her eyes widened and her hand rose to hold the back of her neck. She repeated his name back to him, and his ears started to ring. The name bounced in his head, reflecting on her tone and articulation. For the first time, Din pulled his gauntlet off in front of someone, shoving his hand towards her. Sure enough, she saw her name on the back of his hand. Her hand grabbed his, her thumb running over the name.

She turned and pulled her hair up, showing Din his own. His handwriting showed his name plastered on the back of her neck.

Y/n turned to show a bright smile as she pushed into him, embracing him in a hug. Din hadn’t hugged anyone in years, but he didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around her. His visor tilted downwards, beskar resting atop her head. He realized that he felt guilty. He has seen and heard of so many meetings. A realization, and embrace then a kiss. He used to imagine how he would try and make it perfect, but he knows he can’t.

“I’m sorry. I can’t-.” As if knowing what he was going to say, she pulled away, bringing his ungloved had to her, and placing a gentle kiss where her name was stamped.

“I wouldn’t ask you to.”

“Someday.” She smiled, and kissed his hand again.

“Someday.”

Tag under cut

@ghostofthebarricade

[sortyourlifeoutmate]

“If it has turned its attention our way once more then we are naught but food for the gods! Food for the gods!”

I know the ship sailed on this years and years ago but I still infinitely prefer the Oldcons. And I have reasons for this.

Ahem.

You see, the Oldcons, as they were, serve as both a foil to the Tyranids and to Chaos, and also sit as another existential threat in the 40K universe (as though there needed to be more).

I’ve thought about this much more articulately on my walk to work but I’ll do my best to vomit my thoughts out here, for the edification of no-one.

(This worked out way longer than I initially thought it might, so I’m putting in a cut.)

SETUP

The basic schtick of the Oldcons - and I can’t remember how much and how little of this passed over intact in the retcot, quite a lot as I recall - was that the Necrontyr, a long, long, long fuckin’ time ago, were on a planet dying a lot. They had super-good technology but their sun basically fried them to death, so their lives sucked.

Then one day they met the Old Ones, classical precursors of the 40K universe and Those Who Shall Not Be Seen. The Old Ones were basically immortal and liked to cruise around space through their webway, seeding life and generally just being precursors.

The Necrontyr got mad about this because, well, they were bitter and angry that these guys got to live forever and they didn’t, so they had a war. That’s maybe an oversimplification but a war did happen.

Now the Necrontyr had super-good technology, as said, so did very well for themselves all things considered, but the Old Ones had access to the webway and mastery of the warp and basically just ran rings around the Necrontyr and kicked the shit out of them so much the war fizzled to nothing and the Necrontyr were pushed to one podunk corner of the galaxy to sit and get even angrier.

The Old Ones pretty much forgot about them at that point.

Meanwhile, the Necrontyr had been studying stars. This was partly because, as they had a somewhat rocky relationship with their own sun they kind of hoped they might have found a way to make their lives less blighted and shitty, and partly on the off-chance they’d find something useful to go fuck with the Old Ones.

The former didn’t work out, the latter most certainly did.

To cut a long story short they found the C’tan, star gods. These ancient, ancient, formed-at-the-start-of-the-universe entities that lurked around old stars feeding off them.

For some reason the Nectrontyr immediately knew that this was a key turning point? I don’t know. Guess they knew they were powerful somehow (they were).

But! Since the C’tan at this point were just enormous, planet-sized diffuse clouds of energy they couldn’t really relate to the world as the Necrontyr were aware of it. They needed bodies. And so the Necrontyr built them bodies, using the same super-duper living metal they used to make their super-duper spaceships.

This was one of those points where things - already not great - started getting worse.

The C’tan (in a process you shouldn’t think about too hard) poured themselves into these fancy-pants new bodies and in the process got a new, different understanding of the world and how things worked. And they liked it. To quote the codex:

“As the C’tan became ever more manifest with the focusing of the their consciousness, they began to appreciate the subtleties and pleasures of both matter and life. The close weaves of dancing particles enthralled them and the deliciously focused tickles of electromagnetism leaked by the mortal bodies of the Necrontyr about them awoke a hunger in the C’tan quite unlike the one they had sated among the raging torrents of stars.”

As you might not need me to tell you that last part is kind of important.

So these star-devouring things had bodies now, and were basically gods. They could do all sorts of reality-bending shit (don’t look into the hows or whys, they just can) and they got a real taste for being the object of adulation for their mortal subjects.

The next part always kind of confused me, but here we go.

So with their super-duper technology and ships that could cross the galaxy in the blink of an eye and their own GODS walking around and willing to pitch in, the Necrontyr were ready to get the war started again, but before they did the C’tan came to them with an offer.

The offer boiled down to “Hey, do you want indestructible, eternal, metal bodies so you can be our servants forever? You’ll totally get to kill the Old Ones!” The Necrontyr leapt at the chance but - surprise! - they weren’t told the whole story. While they did get their shiny bodies, they also basically had the whole essence of their species devoured by their ravenous gods, almost all of them ending up as blank, hollow shells that existed only to serve and a slim handful retaining only a glimmer of their former selves.

Why this always confused me was because there aren’t many details provided about the process, what it involved and why it was even the C’tan who floated the idea - they’re not the ones who made all the technology, after all, were they? Why weren’t the Necrontyr the ones who cooked up the ‘transfer ourselves into everliving bodies’ plan? And what was it the C’tan ate? Their souls? Or just their vague ‘life energy’?

(This ‘What is it C’tan actually eat?’ question is another one that always bugs me, but I don’t think it matters especially - souls or the bio-electrical energy of living beings they eat people one way or another and that’s what counts.)

So the Necrontyr are now the Necrons, the C’tan have vast legions of unkillable, implacable, mechanical doomtroops and technology the likes of which can be scarcely imagined. The war kicks off again, and this time the Old Ones are the ones getting their arses handed to them. They’ve still got the webway and their warp magic but the C’tan and their Necrons are more-or-less unbeatable in the real, physical world.

Things get worse from here.

The Old Ones are pushed into a few isolated spaces and barely hold onto these. Meanwhile, elsewhere, everywhere else in the galaxy the Necrons and the C’tan are in charge and they run the place about as well as gluttonous, capricious gods who feed on life itself can be expected to run the place - that is to say, badly. Planetary populations are harvested to sate the hunger of the C’tan, whole species made into cattle, etcetera.

And even that’s not enough! Not enough to satisfy the C’tan! So greedy are the C’tan that they start turning on one another, eating each other even as the war continues.

It’s worth bearing in mind for later that the C’tan don’t need to do this. They just want to do this.

The Old Ones, with their backs to the wall, start getting desperate. They start engineering species to act as living weapons in the war, species that can use the warp given that it’s their main edge. This is where Eldar come from, explicitly, and I think it’s also implied this is where psychic potential got put into humans (Necrons also put the Pariah gene in here, but I don’t know if that’s still true).

Oh, and Orks also got invented. Maybe. It’s less clear but I like to think it’s true that they made the Orks towards the end and never got around to finishing them properly. But that’s me.

So now you’ve got a galaxy teeming with life, all of it tapping into the warp in a millennia-spanning, apocalyptic conflict for the fate of the galaxy itself. This is when the warp starts getting bad, because it’s being fucked around with so much. Beforehand the warp was actually fairly sedate, but now since it’s being swung around like a big stick for years and years and years it start getting messy. It starts getting angry. Nasty things start appearing in it.

The C’tan have a plan for this, it should be said, and that plan is to seal off the material world from the warp. Completely. What this would mean in practise is unclear but as far as they were concerned it would just fuck over the Old Ones and that’s what counts.

And then things get WORSE.

Enslavers appear. You may have heard about these. Weirdo warp beasts. Possess those with psychic potential, melt their bodies down into gristly flesh gates that more Enslavers can come through, enslave everyone to make this easier and defend against threats that might want to stop it, repeat across whole population across whole planet, repeat across whole system, etcetera.

EVERYTHING STARTS TO DIE.

The C’tan have eaten themselves down to a nub at this point and there’s only a handful of them left. The Old Ones are basically done too, the webway is breached, their uplifted races are in disarray, shit’s fucked. Across the galaxy Enslavers are just wiping out whole populations, everyone and everything is dying.

But the C’tan don’t really care. The Old Ones have lost at this point and that’s the only thing that really matters. That all life is dying out is just a passing thing, they can ride that out and come back later. The C’tan plan to settle in and have a nap. In a few million years the Enslavers will be gone and the galaxy will have produced new life and they can get restarted on their ‘Seal off the warp, feed on life forever’ plan.

And, millions of years later, 40K happens.

That’s it in broad strokes.

OLDCONS

If you followed any of that congratulations. 

The practical upshot is this:

A) The Necrons are an undying, soulless race of borderline indestructible machines that are the slaves of the C’tan B) The C’tan are immeasurably ancient, star-eating beings given physical form by the the Necrons and who really, really, really like having physical form C) Neither the C’tan or the Necrons have anything to do with the warp other than not liking it. They are NOT PSYCHIC, they have zero presence in the warp. It has nothing to do with them other than being an obstacle.

Now I’ll tell you why I like this and why I think they serve as a good foil to a couple other factions in 40K.

GOALS

Broadly speaking, every faction in 40K has their own little motivation, right? 

Orks want to fight forever. The Imperium basically wants to survive and kill everything that looks at them funny. The Tau want to expand and spread their philosophy. The Eldar want to cling on for just another day please just another day (and also fuck chaos and Necrons). The Tyranids want to eat everything and then leave. Chaos wants to sunder reality and just sink into a mire of mindless chaotic indulgence forever, maybe, kind of, whatever it’s chaos.

And so on.

The Necrons (as a faction) I always liked to think of having some distinct lines that run close to some of the others, but don’t cross over.

So let’s, uh, talk about that.

CHAOS

Necrons are associated with sterility, lifeless sterility. They are associated with order - serried ranks of mindless machines marching in lockstep across the surface of dead worlds; towering, silent monoliths of black stone built to sever the material world from the immaterial, to eliminate variables and ensure that everything runs as desired for eternity.

In this they’re fairly obviously set against Chaos.

Chaos! The Chaos gods! Beings born from both the unrelenting, brutal psychic warfare of the War in Heaven (as the war between the Old Ones and the Necrons was called) and from the constant, churning wants and desires of the countless beings in the galaxy.

The Chaos gods are distinct, separate beings but they are also intimately tied to the souls they were born from. They’re individuals, yes, but they’re individuals born from very specific things. They have purviews, they have domains. They are - and are for - these things.

Khorne is as much an incarnate desire for bloodshed and furious anger as he is also a sapient entity who happens to enjoy those things.

If you can follow that?

By contrast, the C’tan existed first. They weren’t born from the desires of mortals, they were just there, sucking on stars until they were put into bodies. They exist separately from mortals. They don’t need mortals, they just want them so they can eat them.

The Chaos gods, for all their cruelty (the extent of which is the result of the War in Heaven is kind of an open thing), want and need mortals. They need mortals to act in certain, often contradictory ways. They need mortals to be chaotic, to give into their desires, to want things.

The C’tan need mortals to eat them. And that’s it. Maybe to do things they don’t want to do, but mainly to eat them since, hey, they’ve got the Necrons if they want stuff done anyway.

So while the Chaos gods would, ideally, like a galaxy overrun with (appropriately enough) chaos so that the endless roaring conflict can generate a lot of that sweet, sweet tumult they thrive on, the C’tan want a nice, quiet galaxy where they can eat in peace.

Order and Chaos, see? Foil!

Oh, and of course the other part about Chaos being All About the warp while the C’tan are All About the physical, real world. Gods both, but on the flipside, yo.

Tyranids

Now I’ve mentioned a lot that the C’tan like to eat people, and you might (rightly) be thinking “Hang on, eating people? Isn’t that the schtick of the Tyranids?” and, again, this is one of those things where they run close, but don’t cross, and in an interesting way.

See, the difference is in the approach. Or something.

The Tyranids are ravenous, the C’tan are gluttonous. To put it simply.

The Tyranids come in a great, all-consuming swarm to strip worlds completely, down to the bedrock, just everything. They do this world by world, system by system just across all of space. They leave nothing. And their hunger won’t ever let them stop, they’re always pushed forward by it. Their hunger is their defining characteristic. 

The C’tan specifically eat living beings. They savour the flavour. What’s more, like I said before, they don’t need to eat people. They could easily go back to being sun-sucking energy clouds and get by just fine. The point is they don’t want to.

See? Ravenous versus gluttonous. The Tyranids are pushed by constant hunger to devour everything and have no future planning beyond moving on to the next meal, the C’tan want to arrange the galaxy so they can a specific thing without interruption forever.

So that’s the difference. The Tyranids would leave the galaxy utterly stripped and barren and dead because of their hunger, while the C’tan would have the galaxy turned into an eternal farm-stroke-slaughterhouse-stroke-whatever because of their desire to eat.

TO SUM UP

Chaos: The galaxy as an anarchic maelstrom of reality-bending madness forever

Tyranids: Eat everything move on.

Necrons: A sterile galaxy, severed from the warp, everything in it as food for the gods, forever

IN CONCLUSION

I know why they did what they did. The Necrons did come across kind of bland. 

Their only characters were two C’tan (one of whom didn’t say anything), all of their fluff was written from the perspective of other factions (like the Tyranids, actually, but again that’s another reason to change them around) and there was just kind of a...sterility, I suppose.

Appropriate, really.

And while I like that - indeed, it’s the whole reason I like them, as you might have picked up on - I guess others didn’t, and it didn’t really give the writers anything to work with. 

So now they’re basically a fallen alien empire that wants to reclaim its glory. The C’tan have been jobbed out and the Necrons have leaders with personalities now, internal factions, competing interests, the capability of having plans beyond SERVING THEIR HUNGRY GODS and so on.

Which I can see the appeal of, I really can. And they’ve also left in Oldcons after a fashion, saying that some are still like that, but that’s a sop for me - it’s all or nothing.

But it’s all water the bridge now anyway, no going back. I just liked them the way they were. Oh well.

The new fluff for the flayed ones is dumb though, I hate it.

Or do I like it? I can’t remember.

[artificialqueens]

Revelation Sunshine, Chapter 1 (Courtney/Vixen) - Veronica

A/N: Oh hi. Welcome to the Galactica sequel that I’ve been planning FOREVER. Like...literally since the time these two started interacting on Twitter, during season 10. Thanks to @artificialpuddle for the beta help, and @aqcitrus for brainstorming with me. <3

And of course, a HUGE thanks to @theartificialdane, for humoring me the whole way through and letting me explore this ship in the Galactica verse. It is mostly fluffy, fluffy shit, which is a bit out of my wheelhouse, but I love them so much and I just want them to be happy.

I think it can easily be read as a stand-alone story. The only thing you need to know from Galactica is that at this point in the story, Courtney is a wildly successful queer pop star and star of a fictional Disney franchise called ‘Glimmer,’ which costars Honey Mahogany as her love interest.

Challenge Notes:

Story is told mostly from Vixen’s POV

Her BFFs: Asia, Monet, Monique, Mayhem (who show up in person in Chapter 2)

The title is a song by Cree Summer. I’ve also made a playlist for this story, which can be found here.

#Vixney4Eva

TW: vague reference to past transphobia, sexual apprehension/nervousness that should in NO WAY be construed as dubcon

***

It was Honey who introduced them. Or, rather, Honey who handed Courtney the book that started everything, on the set of Glimmer 3.

BEWARE WHITE TEARS: Performativity and Racial Justice, by Toni “Vixen” Taylor enthralled Courtney so much that she barely slept for 3 nights, devouring it twice. And then she read the whole thing again, slowly, highlighting the parts that blew her mind the most.

On set, when she just couldn’t stop raving about it, Honey laughed at her.

“So...you liked it?”

“Omigod, yes!” Courtney exclaimed. “I mean, obviously I feel very called out. But in a good way? Like...this is making me rethink everything.”

“That’s good! I thought maybe you’d be offended,” Honey said, adjusting her crown.

“Offended? How long have we known each other?” Courtney giggled, bumping Honey with her hip. It was true: they’d been co-starring in the Glimmer franchise for 8 years at that point.

“Still.”

“But god, Honey, it was just...I mean, I don’t even have any words for how amazing it was. She’s so fucking smart and passionate, and so funny, and everything she says is like…” Courtney shook her head, starry-eyed.

“You should tell her,” Honey said with a saucy wink. “Send her a tweet or something.”

“She’s not gonna care what I think,” Courtney said. “I mean, hello? Chapter 4?”

“Okay, but she’s a professor. She’ll be thrilled that someone learned something. Besides, even if she doesn’t respond, maybe you’ll encourage your fans to read it.”

“That’s true…”

“And maybe get more people to listen to her podcast-”

“She has a podcast?!!” Courtney shrieked excitedly, then whispered, “Sorry,” when she saw the boom operator cringe.

Maybe Honey was right...but what should she say?

***

Vixen felt absolutely silly. There was really no reason for attention from a celebrity to make her so giddy. True, there’d been a phase when she hung on Courtney Act’s every word--but that was years ago. Early in her transition, when she felt like nothing she did was right. When she was desperate for any voice telling her that who she was was okay.

It was different now. She was 30 year old, for fuck’s sake. She didn’t need validation from anyone anymore, especially not a pop-star-come-Disney-princess. At least, that’s what she would have told anyone who asked.

But to herself, she couldn’t deny the thrill she got when she saw that first notification on her phone. The mild anxiety all day as she taught two lectures and graded a handful of thesis proposals--a nagging thought in the back of her mind wondering how she should reply. It wasn’t until late into the evening, after 2 glasses of wine, that she allowed herself to read it again, slowly typing out a reply.

Courtney Act @courtneyact ∙ 15h Just read @professorvixtaylor’s “Beware White Tears” and my mind is BLOWN. Everyone needs to read this game-changing book. E V E R Y O N E!!!! It’s so good, so informative, so powerful. AND I just found out that she has! A! Podcast!! #obsessed <3 <3 <3 <3

Dr. Vixen Taylor @professorvixtaylor ∙ 1m Replying to @courtneyact Glad you found it interesting! Thanks for the plug.

That was fine, right? Very chill. She went to sleep feeling pretty satisfied with herself. It wasn’t until the following morning when she saw Courtney’s response.

Courtney Act @courtneyact ∙ 6h Replying to @professorvixtaylor That is the understatement of the year!!! I LOVED it! You are BRILLIANT. I just listened to the first episode of your podcast and holy shit...it’s phenomenal.

Vixen put down her phone, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. It was shallow and cheap--being this enchanted by obviously exaggerated praise. But still...not a bad way to start the day.

***

Vixen was used to fighting. All of her life, it seemed, she’d had to prove herself. Scrape and claw for her voice to be heard. Shout into the void over and over, praying that someone would eventually listen. Demand attention and bang down doors and yell until she was hoarse.

Having someone at Courtney’s level of fame pay attention to her--emphatically describe her as brilliant, incisive, powerful, mind-blowing--Vixen’s impulse, in the beginning, was to lie. To say she didn’t need that kind of validation from anyone, especially a rich, famous, beautiful white girl. The embodiment of privilege. Someone whose coming out was celebrated in the media like a massive human rights achievement. Because how could someone like that ever really get it?

But on the other hand…she had to hand it to Courtney. She had excellent taste in podcasts.

And there was something soothing about a person who didn’t expect her to prove anything. Someone who respected her from the jump, who engaged with her book and her podcasts from a place of dignity, assuming that she knew what she was talking about. She didn’t demand back-up or further explanations when she came across material that was confusing. She did the work herself, looking up the articles and studies Vixen cited, posting them with a quote when something in particular caught her attention.

So reluctantly, over the next month or two, Vixen found herself warming to the idea of a real dialogue. It was January 1st, sitting on her grandmother’s plastic-covered sofa, when Vixen finally bit the bullet and slipped into Courtney’s DMs, so to speak.

Courtney had been tweeting up a storm over the holidays. Gobbling up her podcasts rapidly and hungrily, heaping her and her guests with praise and incidentally, making her subscriber numbers climb. She opened a direct message window, typing out a message that she hoped would make Courtney laugh.

@professorvixtaylor: Alright, already. This is getting embarrassing...

The response came within minutes.

@courtneyact: LOL! Listen, nobody ever accused me of a lack of enthusiasm.

@professorvixtaylor: I bet not ;)

It took one afternoon of DMs before Courtney gave Vixen her phone number. “Twitter’s great, but it’s probably easier to just text, right?”

Well.

Vixen had to admit, she had a point.

***

“So listen,” Latrice said, heaving a deep sigh. “I hate to be the one to tell you this. Like, I really, really hate it.”

“Oh shit,” Courtney said, wrapping herself in a blanket and preparing herself for whatever horrible news her manager was about to deliver. “Go ahead…”

“This isn’t coming from me, okay? It’s coming from Disney.”

“Just tell me, Latrice. What? Is the tour cancelled? Do they hate the new video? Do we need to do reshoots? What?”

“No, all that’s fine. They just...they’re a little uncomfortable about your interactions with this Vixen person.”

“Why?” Courtney sat up, ready to get extremely annoyed, extremely fast.

“Well, it’s just...she’s apparently got some very radical ideas, and-”

“So? Maybe they’re amazing ideas? Have you read the book?” Courtney countered.

Latrice sighed.

“Courtney, listen. It’s just...not what they want while they’re trying to promote this last movie.”

“It’s a movie that ends with a gay interracial marriage!” Courtney exclaimed. “So why the fuck do they have a problem with me complimenting a Black political science professor on Twitter?! This is beyond idiotic, Latrice, you have to admit that! And by the way, I’m not gonna stop. She’s amazing and her book is important and more people should know about her, and if they want to fire me, then fine!” Courtney’s heart was racing as she tried to catch her breath.

There was a pause before Latrice spoke again.

“I assumed this would be your response.”

“Yeah, so. Now what?!”

“Now, I tell them that you feel very strongly about this, and that you’re not breaching any contract, and if they try to silence you on this issue, you’re prepared for a very public, very embarrassing fight,” Latrice said.

“Okay…” Courtney waited for the catch.

“I’m pretty sure they’ll drop it.”

“Just like that?” Courtney asked, confused. She’d gotten herself well and riled up, prepared for a real battle.

“Yeah, baby,” Latrice said. “Just like that. Chalk it up to white privilege.”

Courtney couldn’t help but laugh at that, head falling back on the sofa cushions.

“Good one, ma’am.”

After they hung up, Courtney opened Instagram, delighted that Vixen had updated her story. It was just a casual picture, her and two other professors getting ready to speak at a round table discussion. Courtney smiled, replying to the picture with heart eyes and the question, ‘Is that top from my collection?’

She responded a little while later, while Courtney was on the elliptical, saying, ‘I was hoping you’d notice. ;)’

Courtney giggled to herself, wondering when she’d get to meet this amazing, glowingly beautiful woman. All she wanted was to finally talk, face to face. Maybe in the spring, when her tour hit Chicago? Which, as far as Courtney was concerned, couldn’t happen soon enough.

***

It may very well have been a love letter, Vixen thought, finding her cheeks blazing hot at the thought. She’d woken up to a video posted on Courtney’s Twitter feed. “How To Be a Race Ally.”

Vixen watched the whole video with a healthy amount of skepticism. It was great, actually. Humble and informative. Cleverly incorporating some of the points from her podcast (with proper credit given) and even some things she’d said over text recently (also with credit, and a wink straight into the camera that made Vixen feel things she wasn’t prepared for at 7:30 in the morning).

Dr. Vixen Taylor @professorvixtaylor ∙ 1m Replying to @courtneyact Okay fine, you can come to the cookout.

As usual, Courtney's response was lightning fast, an emoji wearing a party hat and about 10 exclamation points. Vixen couldn’t resist teasing her a little bit more.

Dr. Vixen Taylor @professorvixtaylor ∙ 1m Replying to @courtneyact I don’t know how vegan-friendly it’ll be, though.  

Courtney Act @courtneyact ∙ 1m Replying to @professorvixtaylor You really think I’m there for the food? ;P

Vixen rose from her bed, an almost giddy feeling filling her chest. She really needed to calm the fuck down. What was with this silly schoolgirl behavior? And on a public platform? Every interaction ran the risk of absolutely ruining the street cred she’d spent years building up. (Monet was already making it her personal mission to screenshot every exchange and then tease her mercilessly, and Asia had begun to join in.)

Besides, what were the odds that it would ever be anything but a short-lived flirtation? Courtney was bound to become captivated by something else soon. An animal rights group, perhaps. Or funding for the arts in public schools. There were a billion issues competing for her attention. How long would Vixen’s moment in the sun possibly last?

And yet, when Courtney tweeted that she was on her way to New York, Vixen found herself taking a shot of liquid courage and then sending a text.

VIXEN: Hey...how long are you gonna be in New York?

COURTNEY: A couple of weeks, why?

VIXEN: Well, I have a conference at Columbia on February 23, and then I’m gonna stay for a few days. Maybe we could meet up?

COURTNEY: YES

COURTNEY: I mean, sure. Sounds lovely. Tell me what day you’re free. <3

***

It was strange, seeing Courtney in person after all this time. As much as Vixen enjoyed chatting with her, and as validating as it was to get so much attention, she had reminded herself over and over again that this was all just friendly banter. A bit of lighthearted flirting, maybe, but the possibility of a genuine romantic connection was absolutely out of the question.

But then.

When Courtney first emerged from the elevators, smile bright, it was like time ceased to be linear. Nothing...not pictures, not video, not even that concert she’d attended all those years ago, prepared her for how heart-stoppingly beautiful she was in person.

Vixen stood, in slow motion, knees shaking a little, suddenly hugely aware of her height. Was Courtney always this little? Why had Vixen worn heels?

It must have taken Courtney less than 10 seconds to cross the lobby to where Vixen stood, but for some reason, it felt like 10 years. Excruciatingly slow, and yet somehow, Vixen was still caught off guard as she bounded up and grasped both of her hands.

“Thank you so much for coming!” Courtney exclaimed, that dazzling smile still on her face. “It’s amazing to finally be in the same room!”

“Yeah, it’s…” Vixen offered a smile of her own, swallowing hard. Her hands were warm and soft, and as Vixen gazed down at her, she could feel her heart racing faster than ever. “How was your day?”

“Crazy…” Courtney linked an arm through Vixen’s, leading her towards the hotel bar.

It took a concerningly short time for all the weirdness to dissipate, for Vixen to forget that she was across the table from a celebrity, a person she’d been following for years, a person that she’d idolized at one point in her life.

She was just a girl. Granted, she was a beautiful girl, but one who seemed incredibly excited, even honored, to be talking to Vixen—about her book, her podcast, her life. Where she came from and what she cared about and who she looked up to. A girl who wanted to get to know her.

After awhile, when Vixen was finally relaxed enough to really open up, she told Courtney about hearing ‘Kaleidoscope’ for the first time. How, at that point in her transition, it made all the difference in the world to see Courtney so open about the fluidity of gender and sexuality. To hear those magical words. ‘This is who we are.’

Courtney nodded along, listening to her, tears filling her eyes. She covered Vixen’s hand with her own, and said, “I needed it too.”

As the hours ticked by, they talked about everything. Passion, art, travel, identity. She wanted to know when Vixen began to question her own gender, how she knew that she wanted to transition. She was delighted by the story of her brief foray into drag during the early college years, the source of her now permanent nickname. In spite of all the questions (or maybe because of them), for once, Vixen felt like she wasn’t on the defensive. She found herself being more sincere and honest about all of it than she’d been in a long time.

“I’m not usually this open,” she admitted at one point.

Courtney laughed, eyes glittering, and said, “I’m usually too open.”

“I think you’re just right,” Vixen replied, giving her a generous smile.

They talked about their childhoods. How much she loved pretend and fantasy as a kid.

“I went through a phase—that’s generous, it was like 3 years—where I really wanted to be a dragon. I had this dumb...dragon hoodie, that I wore all the time. And when I finally grew out of it, I cried.”

“Aww,” Courtney said, reaching for her hand. “I bet you were adorable.”

“I think I just really, really didn’t want to be me.”

Courtney took in a slow, deep breath, and then let it out even slower.

“I’m not gonna pretend that I really get it. Everything you’re talking about. I don’t know if I ever could. But...I get that part.”

Vixen raised an eyebrow.

“You? How do you get it?” Vixen let out a chuckle. “I’m not trying to judge you, but I just...look at you. You’re this perfect, sparkly princess. Everything the world wants a girl to be.”

“Yeah...I see what you’re saying. But...sometimes it feels like that’s all the world wants. Is the sparkly princess part. And I’m more than that. Or, I hope I am. But…” Courtney trailed off, wrinkling her nose. “Do I sound really dumb?”

“You don’t sound dumb. You sound like a very intelligent, thoughtful...sparkly princess.”

Courtney threw back her head and laughed.

“I can’t believe you laughed at that,” Vixen said with a shake of her head. “It was such a cheap shot.”

“Well, I’m an easy laugh,” Courtney said, shrugging unapologetically.

“Yeah I’ve heard that about you,” Vixen couldn’t help saying, and Courtney’s giggles continued.

They stared at each other for a few moments, eyes burning in the dim light, with matching, goofy grins decorating their faces, until Vixen broke, shaking her head.

“This is so surreal…”

“How so?” Courtney asked, voice lilting in a way that felt almost like a tease, resting a chin on her hand.

Vixen hesitated. It felt so cliché to say that it was because Courtney was famous, or because she once cried at her concert when she was 23.

“I mean...you’re not even really my type,” she finally answered with a small shrug.

“Oh yeah? What’s your type?”

“Ummm...I normally go for curvy Latinas,” Vixen said, lashes fluttering.

Courtney’s eyes widened, smile deepening, as she exclaimed, “Oh my god, me too!”

They both started laughing again, clinking glasses for good measure.

“So, um...do you have to go back to Chicago tomorrow?”

“Actually, no. I decided to stay a few more days,” Vixen replied. “See some shows, meet up with some friends. There’s this museum in Brooklyn that I’ve been dying to check out for years.”

“What museum?” Courtney asked.

“It’s, uh, called the Museum of Contemporary African Diasporan Arts,” Vixen said. “Kind of a mouthful but-”

“Sounds great. I wish I could see it.”

“You wanna come? I’m going tomorrow after lunch.”

“Ugh, I wish!” Courtney said, stretching her neck. “But the press tour schedule is insane. I’m doing two more interviews tomorrow, and then I fly to LA to kick off the tour.”

“Tough breaks.” Vixen tried, unsuccessfully, not to sound sarcastic.

“Listen, I’m not complaining. I’m very lucky.” Courtney smiled, tilting her head. “But it would’ve been cool to see that museum.”

“Next time,” Vixen promised.

“I’m holding you to that,” Courtney said, gaze fixed on Vixen’s face as she downed the rest of her drink.

Vixen gave a small nod, finding her eyes hypnotic. Surreal indeed.

They ordered yet another round as hotel patrons trickled out, crowd thinning, closing time approaching. By the time they stood up to leave, they’d knocked back quite a few--more than Vixen realized at the time. She grabbed Courtney’s arm to steady her as the blonde swayed in her heels.

“You alright?”

“Mmhmm…” Courtney gazed up at her, lashes fluttering.

“Do you want me to help you upstairs?”

“Okay…”

In the elevator, Courtney wrapped her arms around Vixen’s waist, leaning a head on her shoulder. Vixen’s heart hammered in her chest, one hand gripping the railing for support.

At the door, Courtney looked up at her, eyes bright, breathing out, “You know, we don’t have to be up until 10 tomorrow…”

“What are you…‘we?’”

It took Vixen a moment to catch on to her train of thought, a wave of nerves washing over her.

“Listen. Um. I think you’re great,” she began, wincing as she saw Courtney’s blissful expression crumble. “But...I just, I never hook up with girls who’ve been drinking. It’s just…”

Vixen didn’t want to explain the whole story. The girl in the lesbian bar, years ago, who danced with her all night, flirting and rubbing against her, inviting her back to her apartment. Only, when they began to undress, and it became clear that Vixen’s body was a little different, the girl flipped a switch. Went from a delightful buzz to drunken rage. Accused her of taking advantage, called her...Vixen didn’t even want to think about that. Or about how she’d left her apartment as fast as possible, terrified and choking back tears. How at home, she’d collapsed into Asia’s arms and sobbed most of the night, wondering if she’d ever fit in, anywhere.

Courtney wasn’t that girl in the bar—Vixen knew that. But she was clearly tipsy, and some things, some decisions, required a clear head.

“It’s not you,” she finished lamely. “You’re amazing.”

Courtney nodded, swallowing her disappointment like a champ and saying, “You’re amazing.”

Before she left, Vixen leaned in and brushed her lips against Courtney’s cheek.

She walked toward the elevator, regret stinging the back of her throat. She had no idea how long it would be before they saw each other again, and suddenly her arbitrary rules based on one shitty asshole in a bar 7 years ago seemed...absurd. She turned back around. Courtney was still leaning in her open doorway, watching her walk away.

“Hey, how drunk are you, actually? Can you recite the Pledge of Allegiance?” Vixen asked.

“No—” Courtney said, brow furrowed.

“Oh.” Vixen’s heart deflated a bit.

“—Because we don’t have the Pledge of Allegiance in Australia.”

“Right,” Vixen laughed.

“But what about, um, okay...so...here's a story from A to Z. You wanna get with me, you gotta listen carefully. We got Em in the place who likes it in your face. You got G like MC who likes it on a. Easy V doesn't-”

Vixen strode forward and silenced her with a kiss, soft and sweet, almost chaste at first, both of them giggling. As the kiss deepened, Vixen grabbed Courtney around the waist and pushed her backward into the room, letting the door slam shut behind them.

Vixen was so enamoured that she barely registered Courtney’s massive hotel suite, the entry hall or huge living room that Courtney led her through on the way to the bedroom. Guiding her by her hips to the bed, Courtney pushed her into a seated position and stood between her legs, chasing her lips as she took hold of her collar, fingering the little pearl buttons down the front of her shirt dress.

“Is this okay?” she asked, and Vixen nodded.

“Yeah.” She watched Courtney’s heavy-lidded eyes as she quickly opened the buttons, skin prickling as she pushed it off Vixen’s shoulders. She kissed Vixen again, deep and messy, sucking on her bottom lip.

Panting, Vixen reached around, fumbling for Courtney’s zipper. Once she pulled it down a few inches, the cotton dress easily came off over her head, and then there she was, standing in front of Vixen in nothing but a pair of baby blue panties.

Vixen swallowed, eyes sweeping over Courtney’s body, dying to touch her but nervous as all fuck.

“Listen, um...I should tell you…”

Courtney paused mid-way through opening Vixen’s belt to look at her curiously, face earnest and alert. The perfect student.

Vixen sighed. The fact that Courtney was so willing to listen, so considerate, should have been a bonus. But in this moment, it just made her feel startlingly inadequate. She hated this. The feeling of not being enough, or being too much. She didn’t even know anymore. All she knew was that she was about to make herself more vulnerable than she’d ever been, and she was terrified.

“So...Okay, um. I guess...it’s just been a long time since...I was with a girl.”

“Tell me about it,” Courtney said, grinning.

“No. A really long time,” Vixen said.

“Okay. Does that mean you don’t want-”

“No!” Vixen burst out, a little too emphatically, and then lowered her eyes bashfully, adding in a calmer voice, “No, I want to be with you, I just...might be a little out of practice.” It was an understatement, a lie of omission that unsettled Vixen’s stomach a bit. But it was all she felt comfortable with revealing at the moment, and she hoped that she’d be forgiven later.

“Hmm…” Courtney took Vixen’s face in her hands, tilting her chin up. “I think I can work with that…”

She bent down to kiss her again, soft as a whisper, fingers stroking Vixen’s cheekbones, before pulling back and gazing down at her.

“God,” Courtney breathed, “You are so beautiful.”

Vixen took in a shaky breath, her hands finally lifting to slide around Courtney’s hips. Something about the way Courtney looked at her was different than anything she’d ever experienced. She’d been the object of lust before, and sometimes very much enjoyed it. But this was more than that. She felt more than sexy, more even than beautiful. She felt seen.

But for once, rather than get all wrapped up in anxiety about what it meant, Vixen acted on instinct. She gripped Courtney's waist and pulled her forward, flinging her onto her back on bed. Courtney squealed delightedly, pulling her along.

Courtney smiled up at her, reaching a hand out but then pausing, letting her fingers rest on Vixen’s shoulder.

“Am I allowed to touch your hair? ‘Cause I’ve heard...”

Vixen couldn’t help laughing as she nodded and said, “That rule doesn’t really apply here.”

“Okay,” Courtney giggled, fingering her twists gently.

Vixen turned her head, pressing a kiss to Courtney’s wrist, then slowly moving up her arm, and finally nuzzling into her shoulder. Her skin smelled fresh and almost sweet, like she’d recently been in a doughnut shop. It wasn’t sugary like some kind of food-based perfume or soap, just a gentle, vague deliciousness that Vixen became addicted to immediately, burying her face into her neck to inhale deeply.

She found a soft, tender spot, just below Courtney’s ear, that made her sigh when kissed, and began to suck. Courtney inhaled sharply, hips thrusting up against Vixen’s, hands tightening in her hair.

“You like that?” Vixen asked, emboldened, hands sliding up from her waist to scratch gently at her ribcage.

“Uh huh,” Courtney breathed, arching up again as Vixen kissed her, thumb brushing over her hardened nipple. A whimper fell from her lips.

Vixen’s dress was half off at this point, pushed down around her waist, and when Courtney’s fingers began to trail lightly up and down her back, she shivered. Courtney pushed the dress further down, wriggling it over Vixen’s hips to her thighs, and Vixen pulled it off the rest of the way.

She was expecting to feel uncomfortably exposed, both of them now just in their panties—a situation she hadn’t found herself in with a woman is a very fucking long time. Especially a woman she liked this much. But instead of feeling awkward, she found her pulse racing with excitement, nearly breathless in anticipation of what might come next.

She realized that she’d been frozen for a few moments when Courtney raised herself up on her elbows and asked, “Are you alright?”

Vixen nodded, and Courtney sat up further, reaching out to touch her cheek.

“You want to take a break? Slow things down?”

“No,” Vixen said simply, slipping her fingers under the sides of Courtney’s panties. Her hips lifted, allowed Vixen to slide them off easily, heart in her throat when she saw how glistening wet she was already. She knew that she was potentially in over her head, but there was also a strong urge to keep going, pulse racing with desire.

“Come here.” Courtney stretched out her arm, pulling Vixen in for a kiss, tongues tangling together. She rolled Vixen over, onto her back, grinding down against her.

As much as Vixen wanted to please her, ceding control to Courtney felt liberating. She watched through heavy-lidded eyes as Courtney lavished her with affection, layering kisses against her skin. When a warm tongue swirled over her nipple, her hips jerked up, a stifled moan escaping from her throat.

Courtney sucked harder on her nipple, hands sliding down her torso, lips following as they trailed over Vixen’s tense abdomen. She hooked her fingers into the sides of Vixen’s panties and then looked up questioningly.

“Can I...?”

“Go ahead,” Vixen replied, straining to raise her hips, finding her core muscles in a weakened state, skin so flushed and hot that for a moment, she barely remembered to be self-conscious. Until Courtney began to slide her panties down, and suddenly she remembered exactly what she’d been dreading. When the reality of who she was would confront Courtney, more than theoretical, more than an idea.

Her chest rose and fell rapidly as she watched Courtney’s face. If she had any qualms about a girl with a dick, she certainly didn’t show it. She simply continued to suck soft kisses into her skin, warm hands resting on her thighs.

Vixen finally relaxed backwards, eyes falling shut. She let go of all her worries, all her stupid insecurities. At least for now. At least while Courtney took her dick into her mouth, tongue flicking delicately at her. Vixen’s hips thrust upwards, hands gripping the comforter tightly, moans dripping from her lips like honey.

It had been so achingly long since anyone had touched her this way. Maybe no one ever had, she realized as she arched into the soft caresses. She’s certainly never experienced this kind of loving attention from a woman, a woman treating her like she was precious and beautiful, turning her into a gasping, quivering mess. Vixen felt herself falling apart quickly, losing control, nearly gone before she had the wherewithal to choke out a pained warning.

“I’m-I’m gonna-”

“Mmhmmm…” Courtney made no move to stop, swirling her tongue again, then taking her deeper, sucking harder.

“Oh fuck,” Vixen moaned, hips pumping uncontrollably as she came, gasping for air.

The way Courtney’s hands stroked her thighs, continued to suck softly as she melted backwards into the pillows, every muscle in her body going slack--the small part of her that was still conscious shivered with delight, thrilled with the feeling of being spoiled.

It wasn’t until her body was completely still, bones feeling like jelly, when Courtney began to work her way up her body once again, hands sliding over her skin until she came nose to nose with her once again.

Courtney smiled, kissing her cheeks, down along her jaw, the corner of her mouth. Lips rousing her from a state of sheer exhaustion into warm, sleepy affection. Her hands circled Courtney's waist.

“How are you feeling, baby?” Courtney murmured.

“Uh huh.”

Courtney giggled, twirling a lock of her hair around her finger as she pressed more kisses against her.

Vixen sighed contentedly, pulling her in close, not caring how clingy and pathetic she might seem, just wanting the warmth of Courtney’s body against her own. Courtney snuggled into her arms, slipping to the side of her, legs still tangled together.

After a few slow, lazy kisses, Vixen started to sense a shift. Courtney’s breath grew hot and ragged, hips rutting against her. She cautiously moved a hand down, working it in between her thighs, fingers seeking out her wet heat.

“Show me what you want,” she urged, desire to give Courtney pleasure finally outweighing her fear of looking like an amateur.

Courtney lifted her head, giving her a sleepy grin and reaching down to guide her. She patiently showed Vixen exactly where to touch her, what to do to tease her, when to speed up and circle her clit, how deep for her fingers to go and exactly how to curl them to make her tremble. Vixen followed her breathless instructions, guided by Courtney’s own hand, thrilled at the way her body responded.

Soon, Courtney’s eyes were rolled back, muscles straining, tits brushing against Vixen’s chest as she thrusted against her fingers, fucking down into them, breathy moans music to Vixen’s ears. Her hips moved faster and faster until she stopped, whimpering, just barely grinding against the heel of Vixen’s hand, lips pressed to her neck.

Vixen had never made a girl come before, and it was so much more beautiful than she’d imagined, from the way her lashes fluttered against her cheeks to the slick sheen of sweat on her forehead, to her ass flexing, muscles still twitching against Vixen’s fingers. And the best part, the way she looked up at Vixen at the end, eyes locked with hers as the waves of pleasure radiated through her body, fingers wound tightly into her hair.

“Fuck,” Courtney sighed, collapsing against Vixen’s body, trapping her hand for a few moments before realizing it and letting her wriggle free with a sleepy laugh. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Vixen said, tilting her chin up for a kiss. Her whole body had suddenly become soft and pliant, and all Vixen wanted was to wrap her into an embrace. She wasn’t expecting it to feel this intimate. A part of her had even worried that this whole affair would be wrapped up in a one-night stand. But as Courtney cuddled against her, heart still hammering, she felt closer to her than ever. “I should probably tell you…”

“Mmm?”

“What I said earlier, about not being with a girl in a long time?” Vixen swallowed. “I uh...I haven’t really had a girlfriend since high school. And I guess I’ve come close since then, but never really went through with it...as me. The real me.”

Courtney lifted her head, fingers trailing down Vixen’s arm, a smile playing on her lips.

“Thank you for trusting me with the real you,” she said softly.

Vixen nodded, not sure what more there was to add, when a clap of thunder outside scared the living shit out of her, causing her to nearly jump out of her skin. So much for a warm and fuzzy moment.

Courtney laughed, pulling up the covers and cocooning them both, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“Don’t worry, I’ll protect you,” she said, snuggling tight against Vixen’s body.

“You better,” Vixen replied.

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BTS Reactions| S/O Gets Flirted With By A Girl. (Maknae Line)

Genre: Fluff/Angst/A little smut.

Warning: Cursing.

Concept: After just learning how to tolerate men looking at their s/o, now they have to worry about women.

A/N: I can’t even apologize for how of this took me, lmao. I hope you enjoy it!

- - - - - - -

Jimin

It was moving day for you and Jimin. You had been living in a far to small apartment. It was time to upgrade to a larger place. You had insisted on hiring the cute father/daughter moving team. You always said you saw their commercial and remembered that when you moved, you’d give them a call. Jimin didn’t mind, and it seemed to really make you happy. Who was he to say no to such a small request.

When they arrived, it was more than just the father and daughter, which you and Jimin were fine with. You had a lot of stuff, so the more people to help, the faster it would be to get everything out of the apartment.

“How long have you lived here?” The moving girl asked, leaning against the door frame to your kitchen.

“I’ve lived here for four years, Jimin has lived here with me for two of those four,” You smiled, laying down a thin layer of peanut butter on white bread.

At first, Jimin didn’t think anything of the moving girl - a little conversation here and there between loads, there was no harm. Unfortunately, it did not stay that way. She had now ditched almost all of her responsibilities and was latched to you like a leech looking for blood. Jimin had always been the jealous type, but for the most part when someone tried to flirt with you, or get your attention, you were too enthralled with him to ever really notice. However, you were completely oblivious to the girl who had been checking you out for the last two hours.

“It’s cute for sure, a little bachelorette pad,” she giggled, and you did as well.

You had started to realize that Jimin was being overly needy today, more so than usual. Maybe it was the big change, and he just needed a little extra support, or maybe because you two had only slept four hours last night, whatever it was, you didn’t seem to mind. Jimin was sitting on the counter beside you, as you made sandwich’s for him and the rest of the moving crew. He was constantly playing with you hair, or wrapping a leg around you, pulling you in for a kiss. He was trying his best to show the girl that you were taken and there would be no such bachelorette pad.

The moving girl was bold, so much so, that even Jimin was a little impressed. When you went to hand her the sandwich, she took your hand, and examined it, running her index finger over your engagement ring.

“Have you ever thought about taking that off for a night, and having a little bit of fun?” She cocked her brow, letting your hand drop.

Jimin had never wanted to yell at you so bad, how could you not see what she was doing? How were you so oblivious. He quickly pushed himself off the counter, and wrapped and arm around you, pulling you tight into his side. When you glanced up, his eyes were the darkest you’d ever seen them, and they were aimed directly at her.

“Don’t you have some boxes to move?” His voices lowered, what sounded like four octaves, it was almost scary.

She stepped back immediately, but her glare challenged his. You finally understood what was going on. You turned to Jimin, and took his jaw between your thumb and index fingers. You leaned up, pressing the sweetest of kisses. You could feel the tense muscles unclench. You were now making it clear that your loyalty would never waiver. She must have taken the hint, because by the time you turned around, she was gone.

“Baby, I love you so much, but I wish you wouldn’t be so blind to this stuff,” he pressed his forehead to yours.

“I’m not going to apologize, because I don’t them, my love. I only have eyes for you, Park Jimin.”

(Good fucking god, this gif)

Taehyung.

The melody of the music carried the heavy bass through out the club. Taehyung sat in one of the booths, arms extended across the back of his seat. He watched your body move, your hips moving provocatively. You were getting lost in the music, but he knew the show was all for him. His eyes were dark, barely peeking from his lashes. He felt a deep hunger rumbling in his pants, but he’d gladly wait.

The club was rather packed, but it seemed the rest of the world was aware that you were not to be touched or messed with. There was a clear circle that people wouldn’t enter, keeping away from you. It wasn’t that he was a jealous man, he wasn’t - he trusted you with his life. A man was no threat to him, but what he didn’t expect was a girl to try to come in and scoop you up.

The Spanish music guided your body better than any teacher ever could. You made sure to make eye contact with tae every once and while. You were extremely aware of the growing appreciation that was straining in his pants.

“Excuse me?” You heard a sultry voice call over the music.

You turned, facing a beautiful women. She had to be of Latin blood. Her skin looked like it was kissed by the goddesses themselves, black curls flowing over her striking features.

“Yes?” You leaned closer to her, not wanting to yell over the music.

“You’re unbelievably hot. I have been watching you dancing for some time, and I couldn’t take my eyes off of you,” her hand dragged down your arm.

Tae observed the interaction, a swell of pride filled his chest. Not only were pulling men like they were flies on the wall, but even women couldn’t resist you, and you were all his. A devious smile threatened to appear on his lips.

You smiled, and tucked a strand of her hair behind you ear, seeing tae lick his lips out of the corner of your eye. You tilted the girls head up, her eyes shining, her body almost melting into the dance floor.

Your lips tickled her ear as you spoke, “Sorry, sweetheart. I’m here with my boyfriend,” you turned your head to point at tae.

He waved his ring covered fingers, an eyebrow perched challengingly over his lidded eyes. She swallowed, and shook her head taking a step back. She didn’t bother to apologize to you, but to Taehyung.

You glided over to him, scooting into the booth with him. He captured your chin in his hand, “I love watching you get flirted with,” his silky words tying around your insides tethering you to him even further, the heat between your legs only growing.

“Get back out there, and turn down some more people for me,” he leaned into kiss your cheek, but instead he whispered, “So I can take you home later and remind you who you belong to.” Your legs clenched in response, trying to contain the monster that lived inside of you, and the only thing that satisfied it’s insatiable hunger was Taehyung.

Jungkook.

You were in love with Jungkook, that much was true. Ever since you two had gotten together, you hadn’t even batted and eye at another man. That was something Jungkook really appreciated, and loved about you. You were dedicated, and loyal to him, which is not something that is easy to come by.

You two had been inseparable since the both of you started dating, and everyone knew that you two were together - at least, that’s what Jungkook has been hoping.

It was near the end of April, and the weather was showing that. The rain hadn’t stopped for almost two days, little breaks here and there, but for the most part it continued to drench the streets. I never bother either of you, you still went on your daily lives, which meant going to the grocery store.

“I’m going to grab some grapes,” you squeeze his hand before making your way over to the fruits.

He watches you walk off, and goes down a different aisle, assuming when you were done that you would find him. He was four aisles over, and a cart full of food you would have told him to put back, but you never found him. He chewed on his bottom lip as he hurried back to the produce section, hoping you were still there.

He let a breath, that he didn’t know he was holding, escape from his chest. You were leaning against one of the fridges, speaking with a girl. She was very clearly interested in you, her hands touching you whenever she could, and you let her. His heart sank, and he felt a frown tug on his cheeks.

“Baby,” you called, standing on your toes when you saw Jungkook.

His nose scrunched slightly, oh now he was ‘baby.’ Who did you think you were, flirting with someone else while he was shopping to put food in the table. Okay, it was junk, but still.

“Hi,” he barely spoke up, eyes darting between you and ground.

“This Charlotte, she my co-works fiancé,” you introduced her, “and this is Jungkook, my boyfriend.”

“Oh! You’re Jungkook, I have heard so much about you,” she gushes.

“You talk about me?” He glance at you.

“Of course, I’m proud to be your girlfriend,” you frowned, that he had to question that.

Well shit. Now he felt like a total idiot, of course you weren’t letting someone flirt with you, and even if you were, you still talked about him. Never once did someone ever think you were single.

“Yeah,” he laughed nervously.

“I’m so glad to finally meet you, but I have to go. If I don’t bring my fiancé her kale, she’ll flip a ship,” she laughed, heading off.

“Jeon Jungkook, What was that,” he sighs when you cross your arms.

“Nothing,” his lie unsuccessful.

“You were jealous,” you wrapped your arm around him, leaving feather light kisses to his face.

“Maybe... so?”

“Sulky boy,” he silenced you with a sweet kiss, one of victory and happy defeat.

[aqvarius]

Yes I meant rank as in from your favourite to least favourite and I don't mind if you don't rank all of them. Just the ones you read is okay. I'd like to know who did you like the most.

oooh okay! this took me a day to write bc i have so much to say i couldn’t just rank them without writing extra comments lmao sorry

pirates in love: 

1. eduardo/shin

so my second EVER voltage guy in a single purchase game was eduardo (first was yamato from mfw like 90% of all voltage players lol) - back when he was still eduardo with the short haired sprite. i replayed his route in love 365 last year and he gave me a different impression as shin? but anyway eduardo was the OG kaga and i love and miss him so much. at one point he was my ultimate voltage husband!! also his story was so enthralling. if you love kaga, you will definitely love eduardo. if you look through my eduardo tag/search on my blog, you’ll see i once called him my love, my one true love, my fav voltage guy, my husband, etc. i miss him...

2. nathan/nagi

what a SWEETHEART? he’s a little tsun but damn he falls hard. he’s so awkwardly caring and i love it when he gets angry. also he’s 190cm with a weirdly high bounty on his head for some reason iirc. he was the fandom’s favourite tsundere before we had ever even heard of takuto. 

3. christopher/soshi

it might sound odd because we all know i have a tendency to go for enigmatic characters and/or cold/aloof characters BUT i also love a fair share of sweet guys (haruki from ddiwt, lute aka the love of my life) especially because i love the feeling of not knowing if they’re just being kind or if they’re actually in love with you. they’re also usually ridiculously popular with women but oblivious about it and i love the drama there. it’s been so long since i last played him but i have his routes on PIL:CC on love 365 so i think it’s time for a reread...

i think those are all the PIL routes i’ve played but special shoutout to my girl fuzzy - #1 best friend 

my sweet bodyguard:

1. mizuki fujisaki 

my lovely, gorgeous, airheaded, wonderful bodyguard. he’s so underrated but so lovely. i just adore him. for the last 8 years since meeting him, i have just conveniently chosen to suspend my disbelief at the idea that a pop idol/celebrity could just quit and become a bodyguard. imagine if kyohei just peaced out of revance and became a bodyguard and everyone was chill with it. anyway i’m realising increasingly that i like enigmatic love interests lol and mizuki is just so hard to figure out? which makes it all the more delicious when he gets serious. i also love that he can literally talk to animals. i love how chill he is and how good he is at diffusing tension. i love everything about him. i actually don’t have any of his routes with me (i last played him when i still used an iphone so don’t have him on my love 365 on android ;~;) but i’m genuinely considering repurchasing all his routes lol

2. kyoya hayase

we got off to a rough start but then i fell fast and hard. hayase is someone that i’m afraid to rave about too much because i want to be the only person who knows about him so he can be mine and mine alone. has the cutest smile, the cutest blush and the lowest alcohol tolerance. he’s also totally my Type bc i love cold/serious standoffish characters who only open up to the person they love (i.e. me). the climax of his FLA route had my heart pounding but i was starry-eyed at his calm confidence. i trust him with my life. 

3. daichi katsuragi

ah my beloved dorky captain aka KEVIN. i learned my love for household appliances from him. mature, serious, chivalrous, loyal, but with an easily flustered cute side… basically the modern day gaia from akd. i FREAKED OUT when i saw him in ayumu’s route. voltage WHERE is my msb x hlitf crossover?!?!?! i love katsuragi’s calm yet authoritative leadership skills and the way he just commands respect from everyone. 

4. subaru ichiyanagi

the gap moe is so real with subaru. honestly i love subaru, he was my first ever bodyguard back when i played my sweet bodyguard for GREE. the number of guards i had to complete just to get enough points to pick good options in his route was ridiculous, i spent so much time on it!! also the amount of ender i had to earn to get nice clothes lmao. he only ranks 4th because i actually ship him with kosugi… their chemistry is unreal lol. also with goto, for obvious reasons. i wanna see more subaru in hlitf... subaru route? yes? 

5. toru kurosawa

msb kurosawa is so much sweeter than hlitf kurosawa, even when he fucks off for 2 chapters while you spend days looking for him. msb kurosawa will distance himself from you to sort out his issues so he can be a better man for you. hlitf kurosawa will drag you kicking and screaming into his problems (although this may be because hlitf mc clings on like the snapping turtle she is). msb kurosawa is complex and interesting and won’t guilt you into sleeping with him and then leave you the next day. 

6. kaiji akizuki

i started kaiji’s route in GREE about 8 years ago and don’t think i ever finished it? but as far as i remember, it was really cute. kaiji is so easy to be around and i love osananajimi characters who have loved you since you were kids together. also his sisters are crazy lol.

7. seiji goto

goto ranks 7th because the route started off on a really weird note (like hayase’s) with too much pre-route exposition (i still have no idea where to find the info that helps to ease into his route). also because he made me actually want to be with subaru instead in his route and his way to win me back was to whisk me away from a date with subaru and take me straight to kazuki’s grave. that being said, his GREE route was way better so...

*i haven’t played ishigami, sora, makabe, koda or eiji (but recently bought eiji's set) but sora ranks last because of a long running gag with @hikarunohana about hating on sora

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 41

Time for Maverick to meet Conor!  I’ll be honest, the initial meeting was not what you think it will be.  Honestly, it wasn’t what I expected, but I can’t always control them...

Maverick decided to hang around for a while and keep me company.  To be honest, I was more than a little grateful for it – after the unexpected heart-to-heart, I was feeling a little too raw to be alone. The conversation quickly turned to much lighter topics, such as my plants and the history of black cats in my family.  He told me about how he became a pilot, and about his life Before in return.  I was sitting in the general living area of my quarters, telling Maverick about how I fell in love with cooking, when Conor arrived after his shift.

Still sweating and stinking – nothing new, he usually came directly to my quarters and showered there – he scooped me into a fragrant hug before holding me at arm’s length. “How did it go? Did you meet with Grandma Kim?”  His head snapped up to look behind me right as I heard Maverick stand from where he had been on the couch.

“Sophia, are you okay?” Maverick asked cautiously.

“Who the feck are you?” Conor asked with a glare.

“This is Maverick, the pilot who was on Level One. He is the only person who can fly this ship on manual, and is teaching Tyche to fly anything she wants to get her hands on,” I responded, stepping back to stand equally between them. “Maverick Okima, this is Conor MacMaoilir, construction worker, botanist, and my personal protector whether I like it or not.  He’s one of my closest friends, loves to eat, and is a lot smarter than he gives himself credit for.”  I walked past Maverick and sat on the couch, waiting patiently.  After a moment of both still standing and glaring at each other with suspicion, I crossed my arms. “Sit down if you’re staying. You are both entirely too tall for me to keep looking up at, so either sit down or leave.”

To his credit, Maverick shrugged and sat on the other end of my couch. After a moment, Conor relented and followed suit.

He also made a point to sit squarely between me and the other man in the room.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” I nearly shouted. “Stop the damned pissing contest! Conor would die rather than let me get hurt, and Maverick was one of the people who interrupted the attack on Level One. Seriously, if you two would just chill the fuck out, you would get along great. I promise. Conor, tell Maverick about Antoine’s project.”

Unable to resist a chance to nerd-out at his leisure, Conor started to explain.  At first, he was hesitant, but finally his enthusiasm got the better of him.  As I had expected, Maverick was immediately enthralled with the idea. After a technical interlude that I could just barely follow, Maverick’s eyes lit up with an idea. “Sophia! You should have this installed in your implant when it’s ready!”

Conor jerked with realization before snapping his head around to look at me. “He’s right. You and Tyche, both, probably.  No more startling noises or unexpected close contact setting of your anxiety and trauma.”

I smiled at the success of the ice-breaker before gently shaking my head. “I may get it eventually, but I want Derek and Sam to be the first. But the idea did cross my mind, trust me.”

“Oh! That reminds me. How did your meeting with Grandma Kim go?” Conor turned to fully face me, only to swing his head back around when Maverick clutched his ribs and laughed.

“Dude, you should have seen her!” he gasped. “When I got here, Sophia was apparently taking a nap. This ‘nice elderly lady’ let me in, one hand reaching for her hip, showed me to Sophia’s room to wake her up.  I open the door, and this big damned dog is on the bed and growling at me like a freaking demon or something. I thought I was gonna die! Then, she wakes up, tells the dog to chill out, and wants me to sit on the bed, with the thing that was about to kill me.  When she told me Grandma Kim has combat training, I realized the ‘nice elderly lady’ wasn’t reaching for her hip because it hurt… she probably had a freaking knife!”

Conor turned back to me, wide-eyed. “So it went well, I take it? You actually took a nap?”

I nodded, a small smile on my face. “Yeah.  I was exhausted after speaking with her, and she told me I should get some rest.  When I explained the issue with sleeping, she offered to stay while Lyric took a nap with me. It worked better than I expected, honestly.”

“And the knife?”

“I had no clue, but it definitely adds points on how seriously she takes her job and what she knows about me.  She didn’t know Maverick from a hole in the ground, so waiting to see how I reacted to him was smart, and playing it off as a hip injury was clever.”

“You aren’t going to say anything about the dog that nearly tore my throat out?” Maverick sounded a little put out.

“Lyric was part of the reason Sophie even met with her,” Conor admitted. “Professional nurturer with a trained guard and support dog?  Big bonus.”  Conor reached out and squeezed my forearm gently before putting his hand on my knee. “She takes care of everyone, so we’ll turn her quarters into Fort Knox if that’s what it takes to make her feel safer.”

Maverick collapsed slightly as tension I hadn’t even noticed left his shoulders. “That’s good.  It’s the whole reason I wanted to stay until someone else got here. I’m glad you appreciate her.  She’s nice.”

“She’s also sitting right here,” I grumbled, ears turning red. “Is that what the pissing contest was over?  Making sure I’m safe from each other?”

“Yes,” they answered in unison before glancing at each other and smirking.

Groaning, I covered my face to hide the flush. “Oh gods, now there’s two of you! I’m going to have to agree to Grandma Kim being here just to get any privacy!”

They laughed, but I didn’t miss the nodding between them in agreement.

“Okay, okay, new topic,” I waved my hands at them. “Conor, how is the general attitude of the ship?  Everyone seems on edge whenever I’m in the corridor, but that could just be because it’s me.”

He shook his head. “Nope, not just you. Don’t get me wrong, things have calmed down some since the trial, but folks are still on edge. The whole ship is quiet and tense.”

“Maybe they just need food,” Maverick’s face twisted into something like confusion. “I know I’m probably the last person to mention that, but trying different foods with the guys has cheered me up a lot. I’m just saying.”

Conor cocked an eyebrow at me, so I explained the other man’s history with eating and Team New Foods to him.  He nodded. “That actually isn’t a bad idea.  The food festival for Insert Winter Holiday was a huge success, and that was done on short notice. Depending on when Bash decides to open his pub, you could try to schedule it for the same time as that?”

“Wait. Sebastian Reed decided to open a pub after all?” I asked, astonished.  He had been rather reluctant when I originally spoke to him about it.

“Oh, right, I forgot to tell you,” he rubbed his neck in embarrassment. “Yeah, I ran into him in one of the cafeterias and we got to talking.  I told him how much good it would do for morale, hashed out a few things to prevent any alcohol abuse, that sort of thing.  He agreed that, in the long run, it would do more good than harm to have something like that, and at least if it was him, he could keep a close eye on anyone who was trying to drink away their problems instead of talking to someone.”

“Right,” I agreed. “And who better to tend bar and keep an eye on people like that than a professional nurturer?”

Maverick got off the couch and came around to crouch next to us so he could join the conversation. “A professional nurturer? Is that like Grandma Kim?”

“Yeah,” I nodded. “We have quite a few on the ship, actually.  Antoine was one, now he co-ordinates them, apparently. Which, again, no-one told me…” I scowled at Conor.

He threw his hands up in defense. “First I’m hearing about it, love. So don’t give me that look. Take it up with Tyche.”

I shook my head with a sigh. “Honestly, it’s not like anyone was required to tell me. I just… I don’t like hearing about things like that from a stranger, that’s all.  I used to get to hear all this during family dinners, and now…”

Conor patted my shoulder. “I know the feeling.  We all go so used to ‘oh I’ve got something to tell everyone Wednesday’, that we don’t think to tell each other any other time, right?”

“You said you hoped you would be able to do your family dinners again,” Maverick pointed out. “Maybe having Grandma Kim here will help?”

“I still can’t cook yet,” I explained. “Until I’m not on a medication schedule anymore, I have to eat food from the console so Noah can make sure I’m getting everything.”

“You do remember Tyche can cook, too?” Conor looked at me pointedly. “And we can start small. You, your sister, me, Antoine at first. Then add one or two extra seats when you feel better.  We can run it by Antoine to see if it would add to or slow down your recovery, from a mental perspective.”

I threw my head back on the couch. “Ugh!  That’s the worst part about having a therapist in the family, now. I can’t get away with anything.”

Conor and Maverick just laughed at my antics.

With a chuckle, Maverick pointed at me. “You could just mom all over him until he caves.”

That set Conor howling. “That’s perfect! ‘Mom’ all over him!  I’ve never heard it put like that, but it’s perfect!”

“Whoa, slow down, guys,” I held up my hands with a smile. “There’s a problem with your idea.  Have either of you ever seen that work on Antoine?”

They both sobered up and glanced at each other.  Conor looked like he was getting a brain cramp trying to think about it. “Okay, that wouldn’t work. He’s pretty dote-proof,” the Irishman admitted. “Unless it’s Tyche, but I don’t see you convincing her, either. Those two are immune to your wily cooking ways.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you and Antoine disagree….” Maverick rubbed his face thoughtfully. “You usually work together like a team.”

I nodded. “Exactly.  Tyche and I work well together out of practice and lots of trial and error.  We didn’t even really speak to each other until she was almost twenty, to be honest. Antoine and I work well together because we are willing to admit when the other is right and we’re wrong. Despite how incredibly professional our relationship seems, we both love my sister, and we have a lot of respect for each other.”  I groaned again. “Which means I can’t argue when he says something will or won’t help my recovery, because I know he’s right.”

“Small dinners at first,” Conor repeated.  “We already know the four of us, together, won’t set off anything.”

Maverick nodded. “I hope that works, because I really want to come at least once.”

“I’ll put you on the list,” I promised.

Our conversation was interrupted by an alert to my data band.  It was from Simon: “I know it’s your day off, but I need you to come to the Council Chamber tomorrow. They have approved your new assistant.”

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[thejollyroger-writer]

Charity Comes from Strange Places

a/n:  ROUGHLY based on the first three minutes of the Hulu show "Harlots," but barely anything beyond that. Sometimes I just need a good period piece, yanno? Unbetaed, because I wanted to get this up before I went to work

SUMMARY:  Captain Hook and his men have been regulars at the same inn and brothel for years now, though the Captain has spent his time there at a table in the corner, filling his books and drinking his rum, though he finds himself drawn to the gorgeous blonde who seems to be in charge. When there is a threat to her safety, and the safety of her girls, Killian acts -- but can be reveal pieces of his soul to her that he has not shown anyone?

Rated T for emotional damage and something very close to smut

Also on AO3

Tagging some who might be interested: @shireness-says @kmomof4 @captainsjedi @let-it-raines @profdanglaisstuff @snidgetsafan @thisonesatellite @stahlop @darkcolinodonorgasm @superchocovian sorry if I’ve forgotten anyone, I have to go to work

----- 

Over his years as a sailor — a slave, an officer, a pirate — Captain Killian Jones has been to a lot of inns, a lot of whorehouses, and even a saloon or two. He’s seen callgirls of all shapes and sizes, has heard all sorts of lines, and has been asked by every woman who approached his table since he was a young officer, though he has accepted none of them. He was raised as a man of honor, a man that has always longed to love a woman the way he saw his brother love his wife for the short time he was allowed, the way his father should have loved his mother. He does not shame his men for choosing to take part, and has never shamed a woman before in his life. 

So he sits in the corner, adding to his captain’s log or working his way through one of his newest stories with a bottle of rum, waiting for the sun to come up, hiding from the nightmares that squeeze their way up from between the boards of his ship, the ghosts of the men who have lost their lives on that very deck, who have lost their lives because of him. 

At least here, the ghosts stay away. 

Here, he can watch over his men, make sure they keep out of trouble. Here, he can assure the tall brunette that seems to run the inn that his men will pay their debts, will pay for the windows and the benches they break after drinking too much and the bedframes that they break with more active activities. 

Here, from his table in the corner, over the pages of the book perched on his lap, he can look out over the few who are still conscious in the inn, watch for suspicious activities. 

Here, he can see her, that blonde beauty that sets herself up on the corner of the bar every night, a pile of papers spread out before her and the quill in her hand never still, always moving against the pages, against the large book that he assumes is full of the numbers for the inn or the callhouse — or, in moments when it is not against paper, tapping against her bottom lip as she thinks. 

He has never seen another woman like her, never in all the worlds and all the realms he has passed through. The golden curls that fall in waves down her back remind him of the brightest sunrise, the shining reflection of the morning sun on the stillest seas. She’s beautiful, more beautiful than any woman Killian has ever seen, even if he has only seen her from afar. 

Gods, he’s never even spoken to her, but he believes with all of the heart that he has left that if she ever turned her words in his direction, he would be unable to form any of his own. Or, heaven forbid, if she ever laughed — if she ever turned a laugh in his direction, he fears his heart would burst out of his chest and fall onto the floor before him. 

 Usually, on the nights they come, the place is emptying, just missing the dinner crowd, but tonight, the inn is buzzing with life, most of the tables and almost the whole bar full. 

In fact, the only space for him is at the bar. 

Next to her. 

Next to her at the bar. 

Squaring his shoulders, he takes a deep breath, holding the pile of papers he was hoping to work on closer to his chest as he moves through the crowds of people and slides onto the barstool next to her. 

Out of the very corner of her eye, she looks at him for just a moment, and he doesn’t miss the smirk that passes quickly over her face. From this close, he can see that her eyes are as green as the dress she’s wearing tonight, shining more than the soft silk of it in the firelight. 

Belle is the one chosen to work behind the bar, the very girl that Killian’s own quartermaster, Will, has taken a fancy to. The smile she offers him is much softer than the blonde’s smirk. 

“Hello, Captain,” she says, handing him the regular bottle of rum. 

“Miss French,” he returns with a bow of his head. “It certainly is a busy night here, innit?” 

“It’s a special night around here,” Belle says, leaning against the bar in front of him. “Our proprietors have lined up some entertainment for tonight, so everyone is going to have to wait for their girls until after the performance.”

“A performance, eh?” he asks, turning slightly toward the blonde beside him. 

She smirks again, Belle nodding, but none of them can respond before applause starts of the other side of the inn, cheers from the men that fill the room. 

They don’t speak for the rest of the night, the silence between the girls’ songs staying unbroken, but that does not make him less enthralled by her. He fills out his logs, checks his star charts, listens to the songs, but says nothing. 

She does the same, sipping from a crystal glass full of a dark brown liquid — whiskey? — paging through her books, humming along with the music every once in a while. 

Tapping the end of her quill against her bottom lip. 

That movement alone could be the death of him. 

By her silence, he can tell that she has shut herself away from the world, can tell that she has built walls up around her to keep everyone out, but that does not stop him from wondering. 

Wondering what her story is, how she got to this place. 

Wondering how she found herself in her position when he is sure that she must be younger than he is. 

Wondering what kinds of secrets and surprises he could find behind those green eyes. 

He wonders all of these things, but does nothing about it, leaving without a word at the end of the night. 

Wonders enough to come back the next night and sit beside her at the empty bar, a single seat between them, even when most of the inn is silent. 

Wonders enough to sit next to her, but not to speak to her, even though every muscle in his body is drawn towards her. The seat between them hums with his need to get closer to her, to get to know her, to bloody say something to her, but the minutes tick away. 

Until: 

“How was your latest voyage, Captain?” she asks, almost quiet enough that he misses it, and when he turns to her, her eyes are still on the pages in front of her. 

“Pardon?” he asks, not even sure that she has said anything in the first place, but when he turns to face her, she turns right back to him, her eyes bright and searching his for a moment before she repeats herself. 

“How was your latest voyage? They say you went to Arendelle?” 

For the briefest moment, he still does not believe it, does not believe that she is speaking to him. 

And then, her eyebrows rise up her forehead, coaxing him for some sort of answer, and he knows he is not hearing things. 

He clears his throat, straightening his back a bit as the corner of his lips tick up in a momentary smile. “It was unexciting. Rather boring, actually. We, uh, we have an understanding with the Queen there, and sometimes they call us up to take care of… difficult visitors.” 

With this, she breathes out a single laugh, dropping her head for a moment before turning back to him. 

“You really are a pirate then?” she asks, just a drop of uncertainty in her voice. 

“Did you really think otherwise?” 

“It’s just that, you and your men… you’re so… well-mannered. So nice, and generous. Which is the opposite of what everyone tells you about pirates, you know?” 

“What can I say, love?” he asks, leaning towards her, filling some of the space between them. “I run a tight ship, and teach my men nothing but the best manners.” 

This time when she smiles, it’s a brilliant thing, and he really does almost feel his heart fall from his chest at the sight of it. 

Between long periods of silence, she asks a few other questions about his journeys, about places he’s been and what do you eat on a ship when you spend months at a time on the water? 

Every once in a while, her duty calls, and she leaves him alone at the bar for a while at a time. And while it physically pains him, it is during one of these times that he must leave, doing so without bidding her goodbye. His heart sinks, gathering up his papers without knowing where she is, but it is past time for him to return to the ship. 

 When he comes back the next night, he does not leave an extra stool between them, but he still does not engage with her. 

And to his great surprise, either does she. 

He thought the night before that they were doing well, that the comfort he felt between them could not have been just by him. 

But her silence makes him question it all. 

Every once in a while, he allows himself to look over at her, but her eyes are always focused on her books, never once leaving the pages before her. 

He leaves in the same silence that has been around them the whole night. 

 The next night is the same. 

 The following morning, they leave for a three-day voyage. When they return, he does not even try to sit by her, returning to his spot in the corner. 

Three more days pass like this, with Killian on his own in the corner, though every time he can spare it, he finds his eyes leaving the pages before him and traveling to where she sits in her own corner. 

Either she does not see him, or she does not care. 

Until, at last, she does. 

When he comes in the next night, his spirits sink when he realizes that her usual seat at the bar is unoccupied — but, turning his attention towards his usual dark corner, he is unable to keep the smile from growing across his face when he sees her sitting there.

When she returns it with one of her own, his lungs stop working for a moment. It’s as if he’s forgotten how to breathe, as if he’s never learned how to pull breath into his own lungs. He needs to move, needs to cross the room to where she is waiting for him — to where she is waiting for him — or, heavens, he just needs to draw breath. 

The sea has been kind to him in the three decades he has spent on it, and the amount of times he has felt the burn of the water in his throat can be counted on his remaining hand, but it feels eerily similar to what is happening to him now, to the wild heat stretching out from his chest over his body.

And then she does it again, that questioning raise of her brow coaxed by his stillness, and the world is righted again with that movement, his lungs finally working once more and he can fill the rest of the space between them. 

“Good evening, Captain,” she says as he slides onto the bench across the table from her, and he realizes that she has already procured his regular bottle of rum. 

“Hello, love.”

“Emma,” she says quickly, and he snaps his eyes up to meet hers only to find her sucking on her bottom lip, a sight that he wishes would stop awakening other parts of him. “My name is Emma.” 

He turns his head to look around them, make sure that no one is listening to their conversation, before leaning across the table as far as he can, which coaxes her to do the same. “Killian,” he whispers, winking at her. 

“Ahh,” she breathes, a sly smile across her face, and when she sets her hand on his arm, it sends an electric shock through his whole body. “So there is a soft core under that hard pirate exterior.” 

“We’ve all got something to hide,” he says, the words coming from somewhere deep inside him, somewhere that has been locked for years. 

“That we do,” she says softly, the fingers of the hand not resting on his arm rising to the silver chain around her neck, which runs down her chest and into the front of her bodice. He does not mind the way the slim chain pulls his attention to where the white skin of her breasts protrudes from the front of her dress. 

“Can I ask you something, love?” he asks, leaning back on the bench, needing to focus his attention on anything other than her breasts, however lovely they are. 

(Because, Gods are they lovely.) 

She nods. “Only if you return me the favor.” 

“Of course, darling.” 

She nods again. 

“How is it that you have found yourself in such an esteemed position at such a young age? How are you the proprietor of this establishment, when you cannot yet have reached thirty?” 

Shaking her head, she runs her teeth along her bottom lip, her eyes set on the table. When she does not move to speak immediately, he does not push her, simply watching her as she seems to attempt to put the words in the right order. 

All at once, she moves to swipe his bottle of rum, meeting his eyes for a moment before she takes a swig of it and sets it back down on the table, leaning away from him at the table. 

“I grew up without a family, by myself, on the streets.” Already, his heart breaks for her. “When I was seventeen, I was attacked by an older boy I met, a rich boy from a rich family that thought he could have anything he wanted, and he wanted me, apparently. Left me broken, hurt, in pieces in the alley behind this very establishment. I passed out outside, and woke up in one of the beds here. The old owner of the callhouse, Ruth, was sitting by my bed, and nursed me back to health, didn’t even tell anyone that I was here. I needed somewhere to stay, and Ruth saw that, so I started helping her with the books and I cleaned up the inn downstairs, which used to be owned by a different woman, Granny, for room and board. When Ruth died, she left the business to her son, David, but he only owns it for the sake of paperwork. Granny died not long after and, because she could not leave the inn to Ruby, her granddaughter, she also left it to David, bringing the businesses together. Ruby runs the inn but is also one of the most popular girls, and I take care of everything else. But I can’t — I don’t sell myself like the other girls, because of — for fear of what happened when I was younger.” 

Killian really wants to comfort her, hold her, kiss her, feelings that he has not had for ten years, since he held Milah in his arms as she took her last breath on the deck of his ship. 

And feelings he cannot act on. She just bared her heart to him, much more than he ever expected asking the question that has been sitting at the back of his mind, and told him about the scars of her past. He has to accept that. 

But she reaches across the table and rests her hand on his arm, and there is light again in his life, coming solely from the radiant smile of the beautiful blonde across from him.

Emma. 

They go back to their regular routine: small conversations asked sporadically between periods of silence, though tonight, they are sharing their stories, their scars (literally and metaphorically), and a bottle of rum. 

“I really want to know,” she says after a few hours, and just as many drinks, her words slightly slurred. “How you got the hook.” She reaches out, wrapping her slender fingers around the metal appendage, which sends a jolt of electricity through his body, a warmth that spreads across his bones but settles below his stomach, slowly stirring his cock to life. 

  “You’re asking for the deepest secrets here, love,” he says, his voice low, trying to suppress the growl that he desperately wants to release as he focuses his gaze on her fingers, not trusting himself to look at anything else. 

“I already bared mine to you,” she whispers, her free hand finding his atop his stack of papers. “All I’m asking for is a little… reciprocation.” 

He raises his eyes to meet hers and finds the same bits of a smirk that he could swear he heard in her last word — she has to know what she is doing to him, the effect that she has on him, the effect she has had on him since the first time he laid his eyes on her. 

“Well then, a gentleman always reciprocates.” 

Her eyes widen for a moment, but he becomes too distracted by the movement of the tip of her tongue running across her bottom lip to focus on anything else. 

“A gentlemen, eh? Is that what you think you are?” 

“I can assure you, darling,” he says softly, turning his hand in hers so he can tighten his fingers around hers. “I am always a gentleman.” 

She does that damned thing with her tongue again. “Then tell me, Killian,” she whispers, leaning closer to him. “Tell me how you got the hook.” 

So he does. He tells her about Milah, about falling in love with another man’s wife, about her choosing to come with him instead of staying with that monster—

And about Mr. Gold growing angry with him and piercing Milah’s heart with a rigging hook on the deck of his ship, taking his hand in one fell swoop when Killian challenged him, and leaving with both Killian’s hand and heart. 

Killian sips the last of the bottle of rum, willing it to refill itself so he can drown himself in the liquid, in drunkenness, instead of in the pain that he drowns in every time he thinks of his first love. 

“I took the hook and made it my reason for living, since Gold had taken the only other one I ever found: a reminder never to give my heart away, because of the pain it causes.”

Silence falls between them for a moment, and Killian realizes that his thumb is moving slowly across the back of Emma’s hand. 

And then she laughs. 

“We’re a jolly crew, aren’t we? Two lost, broken hearts, learning to love again.” 

 Killian stays late into the night, knowing that his next journey will take a few weeks’ time before he can return to her. 

But he spends every lonely, silent night thinking about her anyway. 

When they do finally make port again five weeks later, Graham, a man that left his crew to work as a lawman (an ironic fact that didn’t get past any of them) is waiting on the docks for them. 

“Captain!” he yells, pulling Killian’s attention from the list of tasks scrolling through his mind as they try to dock. 

“Smee, Will, finish here!” Killian orders, and both of the men respond simply by nodding. They’re close enough to the dock that Killian makes it to the worn boards with one quick jump from the deck, aided only by a long rope, and he comes to stand beside his old friend. 

“You’ve arrived just in time, Captain,” Graham says, worry painted across his slowly-wrinkling features. “The churches are planning an attack. In a few nights, they’re going to attack the brothels and callhouses. The girls, they— they’re in danger.” 

Killian almost loses the contents of his stomach on the dock, but swallows the sour bile that makes its way up his throat before he can lose it. 

“Smee!” he yells again, turning his attention back to the ship, where the red-faced man peers down from him from the deck. 

“Belay those orders. We’re not docking for very long. Spend the next few hours gathering supplies for another trip with whatever men you need, take the coin from my supply. We set sail again at sunset.” 

He can tell that Smee is confused, but it is not the man’s place to question his orders, so he simply salutes and begins belaying his own orders to fit the new ones. 

Killian turns back to Graham. “Can you give me a ride there? And get a carriage to meet us in a few hours?” 

When Killian bursts through the doors of the inn, it’s emptier than he has ever seen it, but it is barely midday. Only Emma and a few of the girls sit at one of the tables, eating from a plate of bread and fruit in the middle of them. 

“Emma,” he breathes, crossing the space between them, just as Emma jumps from her own seat. 

“Kil—” she stops herself. “Captain.” 

“I must speak with you immediately. It’s urgent.” 

He knows she must be confused, perhaps even a little scared, but she agrees with him nonetheless. 

“Carry on with your breakfast,” she tells the girls seated around the table, then gestures towards the stairs. “Can we speak in my office?” 

Killian just nods, following her up the steps two at a time, the tails of his leather duster struggling to keep up with him. Her office is the first room at the top of the stairs, barely large enough for the desk and cabinet that it holds, so when he closes the door behind them, he is only inches from her. 

“I see why you work downstairs even if you have an office.” 

She laughs lightly, and his heart pounds at the sound of it. 

But that’s not why they’re here. 

“One of the officers met me at the docks, an old acquaintance of mine. He told me — they’re planning a raid, all the bawdyhouses in the area. Emma, you and your girls are in danger.” 

Her eyes grow wide, stricken with terror. He hates to be the one to bring the news, but being able to offer an immediate solution almost makes up for it. 

He reaches out to take her hand. “Emma, come with me. You and your girls, you can hide on my ship. We’ll take a trip up the coast, to wherever you want to go, wait for the danger to pass.” He releases her hand, only to press the tips of his fingers against her jaw. “Please, Emma,” he whispers. “Let me keep you safe.” 

For a moment, she does not respond, does not move. Killian is pretty sure she does not even breathe, just stares at him, into the deepest depths of his soul, at whatever she finds in his eyes. But she must find what she’s looking for, or like what she sees, because she nods. 

“Graham will be here in a few hours with a carriage for you and your girls. Bring what you need, we have more than enough room. We leave at nightfall.” 

In this moment, he wants to kiss her more than ever, but he knows he cannot. He needs her to make the first move, after all they have been through, all she has told him, so all he does is slowly run his thumb across her cheek before opening the door to the office and rushing back to his ship. 

They have to prepare.

 They should be here already. He’s trying not to pace across the upper deck of the ship, trying not to think the worst, but the sun moves closer to the horizon with each moment and there is still no sign of them. Only his belief in Graham — no, his belief in Emma — keeps the soles of his boots on his deck, when all his brain is telling him to do is run through the town and try to find them. 

But he’s worried. 

Just as he’s about to check his timepiece again, he hears the clop-clop-clop of horses on the wooden planks that lead to the deck, matching the pounding of his heart, and he finally sees the police carriage turn the corner, with Emma sitting beside Graham in the drivers’ box. 

Because of course she is. 

Graham pulls them to a halt at the end of the dock, rightfully not trusting the horses to pull them all the way to the ship. 

“Captain!” Graham yells, jumping from the platform before moving to let the ladies out of the carriage. 

Emma just smiles. 

“Help the ladies with their luggage!” he commands, leading the way down the ramp to take Emma’s bag from her shoulder. “M’lady,” he whispers, squeezing her hand for a brief moment before hoisting the bag up his shoulder. 

But she stops him from walking away, refusing to let go of his hand. “Killian.” 

He turns back to face her, just as she takes half a step towards him, almost colliding with his chest, stopping from doing so with her hand pressed firmly against his sternum. 

“Thank you,” she whispers, a soft smile covering her face for the briefest moment. “We can’t — I can never repay you for this.” 

“Believe me, love, your safety is the only repayment I will ever need.” 

They’re not the words he wants to say, he realizes as they pass through his lips, but he hopes they will do the trick. 

For the briefest of moments, he can swear that she is about to kiss him, her eyes trailing down to his lips, and gods, he has never wanted anything more in his life. 

But it doesn’t happen; instead: 

“Alright, Captain!” one of the ladies yells, the tall brunette that Killian knows Graham has a soft spot for — Ruby — as she makes her way around the carriage. Emma jumps away from him, which certainly does not make him feel any better, but even though he’s also heard how much Ruby likes her gossip, it does not calm the pounding of his heart. “Where are we going?” 

He turns down to Emma for a brief moment, and she smiles up at him. “Lead the way, Captain.” 

 The girls do not do well on the water. 

They have not even left the harbor before Ruby gets sick over the side for the first time. Aurora has still not awoken after passing out before they even left the dock (though Killian has a feeling that Philip doesn’t mind looking after her), and Belle is pretty emotional about leaving her family behind, even as Will sits beside her on the deck and assures her that they will be back before too long. 

Tink and Emma seem to be the only ones that don’t mind being out on the ocean, with August showing Tink around all of the equipment on the main deck, and Emma standing beside him on the helm as he leads them further from the town. 

They all understand the risk. Emma told him that when she explained everything after he left that morning, they all agreed, even if it means trusting a pirate and his crew — a crew that the girls know, many of them intimately, and trust more than many of their other regulars. 

Killian insists Emma take the captain’s cabin, two more girls each in the first mate’s and quartermaster’s cabins, with him and his whole crew in the main cabin. 

Once he has their course set, heading a few knots up the coast to a neighboring town, he turns to face her only to find her watching him. 

“Can you show me my quarters?” she asks, her voice soft, almost shy. 

“Of course. Follow me.” 

He leads her across the deck, itching to reach out and touch her — take her hand, rest his palm of her back, stretch his arm over her shoulders — but he does not, simply gesturing for her to take the lead down the ladder into his cabin. 

She crowds him at the bottom of the ladder, pressing her palms against his chest. 

“Thank you,” she whispers again. “For all this. For everything. I know that having a woman on your ship is bad luck, nonetheless five, but—” 

“I can assure you, love,” he says, allowing his hand to find her waist. “Leaving you behind when I know you’re in danger is worse luck.” 

“But you still did not need to bring us to your ship, did not need to do… all of this.” She gestures around them, though her eyes never leave his. 

“Of course I did.” His words are barely a breath, almost inaudible over the pounding of his heart, which he knows she must feel beneath her fingers. 

“Why?” 

“Don’t you know, Emma?” 

She is silent for a moment, and he fears he may have overstepped — but his fears are extinguished almost immediately when she surges forward and presses her lips against his, her fists tightening around the lapels of his jacket. 

Kissing her is even better than the daydreams he has had about her, better than the few times he awoke with her name on his lips. Like the rest of her, her lips are soft, warm, welcoming, a homecoming like nothing he has ever experienced, and he would be content if the only thing he did for the rest of his life was kiss her. 

But she has other ideas, that he certainly is not opposed to, as she pushes the duster off his shoulders and onto the floor. 

“Thank you,” she mumbles, her lips still pressed against his as her fingers begin to undo the buttons on his vest. 

“Anything for you, my love.” 

As she pulls his shirt over his head, he realizes that he is going to need her help to do the same to her as she is to him, and he wishes the thought of it did not embarrass him so much. This perfect, wonderful woman is not here for Captain Hook, has not fallen for Captain Hook — she is here for him, for Killian. He does not have to pretend to be the hardened man that his persona calls for him to be. 

“Emma,” he whispers, his lips trailing down her neck. “I can’t — I’m going to need your help.” 

But she pulls away, her hands slowly trailing down his back — his back, that no one has touched for almost ten years, and that no one has seen for almost twice that. 

“Tell me how to get it off, I’ll help.” Her words are more sincere than he was expecting, and confuse him for a moment before he realizes that she is not talking about her shirt and trousers. 

She’s talking about his brace, his hook, his armour. He’s never wanted to take it off as much as he does now. 

He takes a deep breath, swallows, and squeezes his eyes shut. 

“Killian?” 

“I haven’t —” he starts, the words getting trapped in his throat. “It’s been ten years since I—” 

He can tell that she is trying to suppress a smile, but it does not disappear entirely. "Me, too." 

"No, Emma," he says, lifting her chin with his index finger so she is looking at him. "There are only two people who have ever — who have seen my back, and it's gotten terribly worse since the first one has laid her eyes on it." 

Her eyes widen as she comes to understand his words. 

"The only person who has seen it without the brace — who has seen my arm without the brace, as well — is the ship's doctor." 

"I understand if you don't want me to, if you —" 

"You have to start at the shoulders," he says quickly, stopping any kind of uncertainty she was about to unleash. "Work your way across the chest and down to the arm." 

The smile she turns up at him, her fingers soft against all of the scars he is revealing to her, is warm, understanding — and thankful. "Okay," she says, nodding, and unfastens the clasp on his right shoulder, then his left, pulling the tight leather away from his skin. 

For the first time in years — possibly ever — he feels free of his shackles, and when she presses a soft kiss against the scars on his shoulder, he knows that he has never loved another as he loves Emma, feeling more free with every inch of skin that she bares and caresses, all the way down to the hardened scars at the end of his blunted arm. 

"Thank you," he whispers, her fingers wrapped around the very part of him that he has never shown another person — hell, around his very soul — as he kisses her again. 

After a moment, he remembers what he was trying to tell her in the first place, and can't stop the small laugh that rises up his body. 

"That wasn't what I needed help with, no matter how thankful I am for it," he mumbles, pressing his lips against her neck, kissing her softly all the way down to her chest. 

"What do you mean?" 

"Your clothing needs to come off somehow, as well, and I — well, I'm sure you're aware that I only have one hand." 

She pulls his lips away from her chest, forcing him to look at her before she presses her own lips against his stubble-covered cheek, her breath hot in his ear. "That would be why I opted for no corset." 

"You're a bloody marvel," he growls, pulling the front of her shirt from where it is tucked into her trousers and running his fingers across the simple bodice she wears beneath it. 

"Only for you." 

At this, he pulls back, his fingers tightening around her hip as he looks down into her eyes. 

"I need you to know, Emma, that we will do as much or as little as you desire. The last thing I want is to make you uncomfortable, and at any moment, you can tell me to stop and I will do just that." 

Her eyes search his for a moment, but he knows that she will find nothing but sincerity. And she smiles. "The soft core under the hard pirate exterior," she says, one of her hands over his heart while the other runs through the hair at the nape of his neck. 

"Only for you, my darling." 

There are other words he wants to say, other feelings he wishes to voice — pieces of his soul that she has not unburied yet — but he does not say them. Not yet. Instead, he chooses to show her, to worship her as a lover, in a way that only someone who really knows you is capable. He spends the rest of the night showing her, time and again, that he would never hurt her, that he cares for her more than he has ever cared for anyone.

Because here, in her arms, he is free to be Killian Jones, the man with as many scars on his past as he does on his body, if not more. Here, he is himself, more than he has ever been, able and willing (oh, so willing) to show her what it means to be loved.