#granted like an hour and a half (if you wanna be generous which i am) was spent character building but also i didnt really think to hard on

[distracted-milkshake]

Like ‘Em Weird - Steven Grant x reader

Warnings: bri’ish reader, non explicit sex, snogging tf out of Steven, general embarrassment, slight jerk Marc

Words: 4k

Rating: M

Summary: A fast moving relationship halts abruptly when the cute guy you met at a cafe wakes up a completely different person.

or

How you helped Steven figure out his body has multiple tenets, and that he doesn’t mind sharing it it’s you

I haven’t actually finished Moon Knight, so any inconsistencies or straight up false stuff is on me. Other guy isn’t here because I haven’t met him yet

Whipping up 1-5k oneshots while I can't get even ten in on my wip is such a me thing it's not even laughable anymore

Also! I have read a lot about DID and talked with friends who have it, and the portrayal of the reader does not represent kind or correct treatment of people with such issues at all, just wanted to be clear that I as the author know that and this isn’t any sort of handbook

AO3 link

“You gonna talk to me or just keep staring?” 

Steven blinks, immediately feeling his hands and cheeks go hot. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I was staring–!” He quiets as you stand and drag your metal chair the few feet across the cafe patio to his table, plopping into it. 

“Hi.” He murmurs, eyes dropping to his lap as he wrings his hands. 

”Hey,” You reach your hand over the table, flashing a smile, introducing yourself. 

“Steven Grant.” He shakes it, adjusting in his seat.

“No worries, by the way. I never know how to start a conversation either.” 

“I am so sorry, really, I hadn’t noticed. I uh, I don’t do that, I swear, I was just sort of spaced out.” He sucks in a breath and lets it out slowly, running a hand through his hair to get it off his face. “I don’t usually see a lot of pretty girls around, not ones that I find pretty– well, I mean there’re plenty of pretty girls, just not as– you just…” he swallows, wishing he could sink far enough into his chair to disappear from the face of the Earth. 

“God I wish I could start over.” He says. 

“This conversation, or since you started staring?” 

“My life at this point.”

“Take as long as you need.” You grin. 

“My name’s Steven, I work in a gift shop.” 

“At the museum?” 

“Yeah,” he nods, sitting up straighter. 

“I knew it, I’ve seen you before! I love that place.” 

“Ah! Me too! It’s ahm, probably about my favorite place in the world.” 

He goes off about something having to do with history, half of which you don’t quite follow, but you listen anyway. 

He tells you about several different exhibits from the museum he works at, stuff that isn’t on the little plaques, going on tangents here and there about the origins of popular misconceptions. 

“…and that’s just off the top of my head; numerous examples of it.” He takes a sip of his coffee, suddenly seeming to realize something. 

“Shit. Im sorry, I’ve been talking entirely too much. You want to tell me about you?” 

“No, it’s cool, I get it.” You laugh. “You read a lot.” 

“Oh loads, anything that interests me, I love books.” 

“Music's my thing.” You say. 

“Oh, do you play?” 

“Nah, I collect. CDs mostly, vinyl sometimes.” You finish your drink, setting your cup aside. 

“I’d love to get into it, but I should be going. Do you wanna get dinner sometime?” You ask. 

“Yeah,” he nods and you pull out your phone, handing it to him to put his number in.

“I’m vegan, but anywhere you like is fine though. Saturday work?” He says. 

“Saturday’s brilliant.” You click your phone closed when he turns it back to you, tucking it back in your pocket. 

“Brilliant.” 

“I’ll call you with the place. See ya then.” 

“See ya.” 

Saturday rolls around, and you get off the bus to a lovely little Indian place with a bounce in your step. 

You had double checked thy had plenty of vegan options, spending the last few days trying and failing not to text Steven every half hour. 

“Sorry! I got put on inventory again.” Steven huff as he bounds up to you, making you feel a little silly as he’s all dressed up. 

“You’re right on time actually. I just came early.” 

“Oh, thank goodness.” He says, exhaling heavily and straightening his back. 

He holds up a “Um, these are for you.” 

“Oh my God.” You smile, taking them from him and turning them over. 

“I hate flowers, but that has got to be about the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me.” 

“Sorry, I’ll uh, I’ll remember that.” 

“Nothing to be sorry about, I appreciate it. Shall we?” You gesture to the restaurant door. 

“Oh– Of course,” Steven sidesteps to hold open the door for you, and you both head in. 

Seated with your food on the way, you look your date up and down expectantly, to which he sets his drink down and explains. 

“I am keeping my mouth sealed unless spoken to. Even if it means I’m staring.” He jokes at the end with a smirk. 

“Sure you’re going to be able to stick to that?” You tease, taking a long sip from your mango lassi. 

“Sure am. Talk to me.” 

So you do. 

You tell him all about where your from, your favorite band, the kinds of movies and shows you like, and he chimes in with his own, careful not to dominate the conversation with his preferred topics, which as much as you love the sound of his voice, you’re grateful for. 

“You know there’s something special about you maybe.” He says when you’re about finished with your meal. “I feel like I just click with you. Is that weird?” 

“No, it’s not weird.” You shake your head, meeting his eyes. “That’s not weird at all.” 

You walk with him down the street, hands in your pockets from the slight chill, but keeping close enough your arms are almost touching. 

It’s quiet, and it’s a comfortable quiet, but you can’t help but feel nagged at by a lack of something. 

You come to an intersection, and Steven turns to you. 

“Well, thank you, for going out with me.” You take him in, framed in the streetlight, messy hair and nice clothes, pretty eyes catching the light. 

“I hope you have a great rest of your night–” 

You push him against the brick wall of the building closest and catch his lips in a kiss, startling him as his hands hover over your shoulders, then your arms, before finding your back and waist, pulling you close. 

He kisses back confidently at first, then out of sync, then trying to pull away, saying something muffled. 

“Good?” You break the kiss to ask, wetting your lips. 

“Yeah. S’prised me’s all.” He says, breathing heavy. “I just wanted to say I think you’re gorgeous.” 

You pull him back into it with almost feverish urgency, pushing your tongue past his lips and to the roof of his mouth where you find his and press and move against it roughly, hand finding the back of his head to tilt just enough to have the perfect angle to explore. 

You recede to let him breathe and Steven catches a dribble of spit with the back of his hand, looking mortified as he having no where else wipes in on his coat. 

You bite your tongue to keep from laughing, wiping his bottom lip with your thumb. 

“Sorry,” he mumbles. “Sorry that’s gross, I dunno if I’ve ever been kissed like that, I’ve no idea how,” he wipes his lips again. 

“It’s not like movies. Very, very wet.” 

“You talk a lot for someone who stares.” 

“In the restaurant. Out here I’ve dropped it now. You know I don’t know if I want to be remembered as that guy in your head.” 

“Something else, then?” 

“I’m cool with gift shop guy.” He says as you give him lighter pecks on the mouth. 

“Much better than spaced out Steven.” You giggle, tracing his cheekbone around back to his ear and down his beck, letting your thumb slip under his collar as you press your forehead against his. 

“Yeah well, I find it hard to get a good night’s sleep.” 

“I’d like to get a good one with you.” 

“Hmnn?” His eyes flit to your lips and then back up to yours, bewildered. 

“Oh, oh you mean!” He pulls back and gives an enthusiastic nod, a wide smile on his face.

“Hells yeah.” 

“I like your apartment,” Steven says under his breath between dizzying kisses in your entryway, watching you alternate between his throat and kissing him with utter fascination, unsure how to keep up or what to do with just how expertly you’re making him fall apart. 

“You haven’t seen it yet.” 

You pull him by the wrist through your living space, past the couch to your bedroom, where you shut the door and shuck off his jacket. 

“Do you have a condom?” He asked before you can devour any attempts he has at talking again with your mouth. 

“Yeah, one sec.” You dig around in your nightstand drawer, pulling one out and turning back to give Steven a gentle shove onto the bed, climbing atop him and undoing his buttons with your free hand. 

“I can’t believe this is really happening,” Steven says when you finish with his top and strip off your own, tearing the condom open and sitting back on your haunches. “This is unbelievable.” 

You grab him by the chin, making his heart skip a beat. “Let’s aim for unforgettable.” You say. 

Steven lays on his back, hands on his chest, having finally caught his breath. 

“That was lovely.” He says. 

“Lovely?” You repeat, stretching your spine, side eying him. 

He turns on his elbow you look at you. “Lovely. Amazing. Mind blowing. All of the above.” 

“Been awhile?” You chuckle, tracing his collarbone to his shoulder before hooking your arm over it. 

“You have no idea.” As lost in your eyes he is, he pulls away to check the time, sitting up. 

“I um, I should get back to my apartment,” he moves to get off the bed, and you sit up after him, catching his wrist. “Hey wait. Don’t be ridiculous, stay.”

“No, I uh…” Steven stops himself, not wanting to mess this up. If he told you he had some weird sleep condition, that he literally bolted himself to his bed to sleep every night for fear of missing hours or waking up places he didn’t recognize, he was certain that was the kind of thing that would scare you off. 

That look you're giving him, that half lidded, cocksure smile, still topless and not even trying to cover it, it’s convincing enough on its own. 

“That’d be just fine. Yeah. Yeah okay.” He relaxes back into the bed and you lean up and kiss him. 

“Great.” You murmur, pulling him in and tugging the covers back over you. 

Maybe just one night would be fine. 

Marc wakes up in an unfamiliar room, with an unfamiliar woman in bed next to him.

You stir, burrowing your face into the pillows before you feel the bed spring back, blinking your eyes open and pulling yourself up just enough to see him retrieving his clothes from the floor. 

“Hey, no rush, it’s Sunday, come ‘ere.” 

“I’m sorry, you seem nice and all, but I was not supposed to wake up here.” 

“What happened to your accent?” You laugh humorlessly, brow knitting. 

“Accent? Jesus, I don’t have time for this, I’ve got to be in Madripoor in like two hours, that idiot was supposed to be back at his apartment.” 

He gathers up the rest his things as he mutters to himself. “Yeah yeah I know, I can get to the justice after I get back to his apartment and sort things out there. I swear if this is what gets him… yes. Of course I’m grateful. I will handle it.” 

“Hey, wait!” You pull a t-shirt and pajama pants on, following him into your living room, but by then he’s already got his shoes on. 

He opens and struts right out your front door without another word, slamming it behind him. 

Monday afternoon you take your lunch break to head down to he museum, stomping right up and into the corner gift shop, where sure enough, Steven sits twiddling a pen while he reads. 

He sets aside both when he sees you, smile falling when he sees your face. 

You plant your palms and lean directly over the counter, huffing. 

“Hey, you know I really can’t believe I fell for your shy soft boy act, you pull that on everyone? Or was I just ‘special’ enough to catch your attention?” 

“What? I– what are you talking about– hey!” He jumps up from his seat as you push back from the counter, folding your arms. 

“I mean what on Earth is wrong with you!” You stare him down as he rounds his station to speak with you. 

“Hey, whatever I said, I’m sorry? I don’t– I didn’t mean it– will you please tell me what you are talking about?” 

“You jerk. Can you go one minute without lying? Rhetorical, because you obviously can, if it’s convenient to getting in my pants. God! I can’t believe I slept with you.” 

“You slept with me?!” He exclaims, hunching over as a couple passerbys give him looks, making you roll your eyes. “Holy shit, I thought I dreamt that.” He says mostly to himself, tugging at the hair behind his ear. 

You look at him, jittery, wrinkled clothes, chewing at his thumbnail. 

“Are you high?” You ask, tilting your head to get a better look at his face, trying to make out if it’s a bruise or just bags under his eyes. 

He quickly shakes his head. “No, no-no-no, I-I don’t do pills or anything. I mean, maybe I should, to be honest– but I’ve never done drugs of any kind.” 

You throw up your hands. “Why would I believe you after yesterday!” 

“Yesterday? Why– What happened yesterday.” 

“Unbelievable. You know, you aren’t worth this. Don’t text me anymore.” You turn to the door, but his whirls around you in a panic, blocking you. 

“Wait! Wait, please. Look I don’t know what happened the other night, but I assure you that's not me, I’m not like that, I would never say stuff like that, I’d never use you, I like you! I really like you, and I don’t want to never see you again.” 

You study his expression, torn between how completely devoid of any sort of dishonesty it looks, paired with how desperate his tone is, and just who you remember walking out of your apartment. 

“You’re acting completely different now.” You shake your head, hanging it and letting out a long sigh before looking back up at him, which you immediately regret because he has the saddest puppy eyes you’ve ever seen. “I have to get to work. If you think you can explain to me just what the hell is going on with you, meet me at the park at six thirty, I’ll… I’ll hear you out.” 

“Thank you,” he folds his hands, needing to shout after you as you make to leave. “I won’t let you down, I promise!”

You give a dismissive wave as you head out museum's front doors. 

“…and that’s all I know, I swear.” You’re seated on a bench in the park. By now the sun has set, and the lights are the only illumination with a cloudy night sky. 

“I believe you.” You sigh, letting the leg you’d been sitting on down from the bench to stretch. “How often does this happen?” 

“Most nights. I’ve been trying not to sleep because of it.” 

You shake your head. “Why the hell haven’t you gone to a doctor?” 

“Because I can sort it, it’s fine. You go to a doctor if you're sick, I’m not sick.” He fiddles with his hands, realizing your looking at them he smoothes them down his pants and keeps them on his knees. 

“Sleepwalking isn’t sick. It-it’s just like, stress, or something.” Even saying it aloud he didn’t believe it, but what was the alternative? That he was legitimately mad? 

“Steven, look at me. You need to get help for this. That's mental. It’s not normal. Tell me you’ll get help.” 

“I’ll look into it.” He scratches at his 

You frown. “And mean it. You need help.” 

“I mean it, I will get help.” He nods when you put a hand over his, pulling him into a side hug. 

“Thank God.” You murmur. 

Two months later, you and Steven are kind of dating. 

Though your relationship had taken a big step back, you still texted and called him frequently. You didn’t feel like you could bring yourself to getting any closer, not when you still didn’t know who you had woken up in bed with. 

Today he’s over for tea, on your couch with his hands folded, helping himself to the biscuits you put out. 

You come back from putting the water on, stuffing a couple cookies in your mouth before he can eat them all. 

“Oh! I erm, I got you a copy of that new CD from that band you like.” Steven digs around in his bag, pulling out a still wrapped album, handing it to you. 

“Holy cow.” You scoff as you take it. 

It was the newest release from your favorite band, and had been sold out everywhere for more than two weeks. 

“I can’t believe you remembered. I’m putting this on right now.” You pop on the stereo, slow rock jams filling the apartment as the water boils and you bring the pot to the table, filling Steven’s cup. 

“So how are you doing?” You ask. 

“Oh, mostly good. I still haven’t figured him, Marc, out much, but I am sleeping better.” 

“You figure out just what ‘he’ is yet.” 

“No, still no diagnosis. I’m having trouble finding a therapist I like. I also, you know, not keen on institutionalization.” 

“Right. Well I mean so long as he doesn’t decide to go on some break.” You grimace, wondering what the hell he could’ve had been up to in Madripoor of all places, if he’d even been serious. 

“Beg your pardon?” 

“Never mind.” You give your hand a wave.” I still can’t believe I’m how you found out.” 

“Hey now hang on, I knew, I just didn’t know why.” He stands up to be at your height, annoyed. 

“Or how, or what.” You give him a look. 

“Yeah. But I did know.” He shrugs. “Even though he was trying to keep it from me.” 

“Well yeah, probably because you’re the nice one. Marc is a prick.” 

“The hell did she just say about me!?” Marc growls, catching his eye in his reflection in your tea kettle. 

Steven blinks. “He didn’t like that.” 

You draw your brow, frowning. “He can hear me?” 

“Apparently? I don’t get most of it myself, I didn’t think he could hear me till like last week.” 

You push off the back of the couch. “Tell him to come out here and talk to me right now.” 

“Uh, right, sure, yeah. Marc, you heard her.” He closes his eyes, taking a deep breath. 

When he opens them again, you slap him across the face. 

He cups his cheek, turning to look at you. “Still Steven!” 

“Shit– I’m sorry!” You cover your mouth. 

“You were going to smack him? But that’s me!” 

“I thought– I didn’t think it through, really. Is he not there?” 

“I can’t really make him come out, he just kind of does it if I let him.” 

“I’m sorry I hit you.” You say. 

“No,” he shakes his head. “He totally deserves it. Prick is right on the money.” 

“Even so, I shouldn’t have done that.” 

“Already better.” He smiles. “Though a kiss wouldn’t hurt…” 

You raise a brow and smile, pressing a kiss to his cheek. 

You hang out a while longer before heads home, leaving you to think. 

“I want to date her too.” 

“What?” Steven looks up at his mirror from across the room. “You won’t tell me where you’ve been pissing years of my life away, what you’ve been doing, but now you want to meddle with the one good thing that’s happened to me, after you nearly screwed it all up? That’s rich.” 

“I didn’t want much of anything to do with her until I saw the way she slapped you, I mean, that was unexpected.”

“She’s for sure, isn’t she? All the more reason you will not seeing her unless she asks.” 

“Let me talk to her or I’ll break up with her.” 

“We’re not together…ish. I don’t know, it’s not the simplest.” 

“I’ll ghost her. Delete her contacts. You know I will.” 

“Alright! Okay, fine. Jesus.” 

He picks up his phone. “Don’t you negotiate in anything but threats?” He starts to dial your number, then stops. 

“Hang on… you’re jealous, aren’t you?” 

“I’m sorry?” 

“You're jealous I have a girlfriend and you don’t. And she doesn’t talk nicely about you.” 

“I’d stop talking now.” 

“Holy shit, that’s hilarious. You act like you think my life is boring, but you envy it.” 

Marc glares at him, jaw working. 

“I’ll tell you what, I will set you up, but you have to tell me what you’ve been doing, and where you've been taking me.” 

“Khonshu’s not gonna like that.” 

“Again with bloody Khonshu. You’re flipping bending over backwards for that fool. Figure it out, cause that’s that.” 

“Fine.” 

“Perfect. Done deal.” 

He hits dial. “Hey so uh, Marc wants to meet you. Properly. I’ve told him he needs to apologize.” Marc rolls his eyes but doesn’t say anything. “Right. Yeah. Can you meet me?” 

“This… Marc the Merc, the pissy one?” You say, looking him over. You’d met Steven not far from the museum, and held his hand while he relaxed and let Marc take over. 

“Yes, it’s me again. Hi.” You meet his eyes, feeling oddly bothered by just how the same they look. It’s Steven, but it’s not. 

It’s painfully not him, and yet you can’t put into words how. 

“Hey,” you say, not sure what else you’re supposed to. 

“Let’s get this part out of the way: I’m sorry I walked out on you. It’s Steven’s fault we were there at all, and I had shit to attend to, but I was less than curt about it.” 

“Accepted, if that’s the best I’m going to get.” You nod, and he gestures for you to walk with him, so you do. 

“I haven’t been keeping tabs. What’s he been telling you about me?” He says. 

“Not a lot. I mean, he barely knows you, and neither do I.” 

“There’s not a lot to tell. He’s not supposed to be tangled with my life, but, since he is, I figure we might as well share.” 

You stop, and he does too. 

“What?” He says. “I’m willing to be more open if you are.” 

“What are you talking about? Are you saying you want to get with me?” 

“Would you like to?” 

He looks you right in the eyes, catching you off guard. Before you can answer he cups your face and kisses you, arm around your lower back, nearly lifting you off the ground. 

You pull away, eyes wide, breath ragged, trying to get your brain to catch up with your body, realizing you're right in the street where everyone can see you. 

“Too much?” He asks. 

“No,” you shake your head. “Just– just surprised me.” It’s quiet for a moment. 

“His apartment’s not far,” he finally says. “If you wanna see just how much of a prick I am.” 

You stare up at your boyfriend’s apartment ceiling, wondering what the hell you’ve gotten yourself into. 

You turn when you hear footsteps coming back to the bed. 

“Hi,” he gives you a little wave, holding out a cup of tea. 

You sit up on your elbows, slowly taking it. “Steven?” You say tentatively. 

“Yep, it’s me.” You stand up, throwing back half the cup and setting it aside, swallowing. “Everything go okay?” He asks.

You nearly knock him over in a hug, burying your face into his shoulder. 

“Better than okay,” you say, smiling against his bare skin. 

“Really? Oh, Gods, that's a relief.” He wraps his arm around you, pressing his nose to the top of your head. 

“Marc was different than I thought.” 

“Now we’re even, he said he’d cooperate with me some more, so I think it all works out?” 

“I love you. Both of you.” 

“Really? It’s not too weird?” 

“Hey,” you press a kiss to the bridge of his nose. “I like ‘em weird.” 

Even though you had next to no idea what was to come, between you, Steven, and Marc, you were confident you would figure it out.

[systlin]

Did you know, if you're stuck at work during unusual freezing conditions with 5 inches of snow and they cut your power on tuesday(it's still not on as of Friday 9 am) that one of the last places to lose heat is the bathroom? Especially if it's an interior one?

Granted, once it did, it's a damn meat locker (like the rest of the building) and even thermals and a rated to 30/40 thermal sleeping bag don't help.

Also we ran out of real food on Tuesday and just have chips and crap. I don't wanna see a doritos snack bag for a month. Not a lot of water either. We're having to ration that.

Also, were not being paid for being stranded! Just for hours worked, (12 on 12 off) despite me coming in under icy, dangerous conditions on the expectation that we would be.

At least your places are prepped for this! We vented heat like mad as soon as we lost power, and i was bundled in my blankets and thermal bag by 2 am Weds morning (about 6 hrs after power cut)

If someone is able to come in today I can go home but,*looks at ice that will turn to slush then ice again* i doubt it

Holy fucking shit I feel so bad for all of you down in Texas right now.

I JUST learned through all this that apparently, places in TX just. Have water lines outside? Or in unheated garages? You don’t run them in through heated or semiheated basements dug below the frost line??? And I went “Oh NO all their pipes are gonna burst which is the Worst” and then sure enough they all did.

And your houses aren’t insulated for cold, like you ENCOURAGE drafts to blow through to help cool places?

Like we woke up two weeks ago and went ‘huh, house is kinda cool’ and realized the LP tank was empty and we’d probably been without heat for 8-9 hours, while it was -22F outside. Inside it was still a solid 58F, because we build houses up here to hold heat in. We turned on a couple space heaters and the whole 1700 square foot house was fine again. (LP tank got filled quickly because the LP companies don’t fuck around in winter)

And we could do that because our whole grid is...well, it’s connected to the entire eastern USA and Canada, but while Iowa DOES get nearly half of our power from wind farms (#1 in the nation for being powered by clean wind energy!)  all ours are kitted out to work just fine all the way down to ‘surface of Mars’ temperatures, along with every other form of power generation and the power lines.

And YEAH a 30/40 rated sleeping bag is what we up in the great frozen north consider a ‘light spring or fall rated sleeping bag’, that shit won’t cut it when it’s -2 outside. You’d have to put one of those inside a second one of those and still wear warm clothes.

So yeah I feel so terrible for all of you down there in your subtropical deserts who are Suffering, and wish I could send you all a good down coat and winter boots.

[thran-duils]

Use All of Me (P.11)

Title: Use All Of Me (Part Eleven) Summary: Fem!Reader x Dark Mob!Steve Rogers. The Avengers are heroes saving the world but in this AU, they are also permitted by the powers in charge to have less than favorable business underneath their guise of mere superheroes. Steve and Tony are at the helm, keeping their empire’s wealth in check, both devious and perilous if crossed. Steve takes a liking to the reader at a party and it may be her undoing to her autonomy choosing to go home with him. Words: 2,711 Warnings: Dark AF, angst, emotional/mental abuse, smut, breeding, death Author’s Note: As some of my midwest friends have poked fun at, a freeway to me is an interstate, like I5 and I90. A highway to me refers to state routes or highways with stop lights along it at certain spots. I know it’s not a huge deal but I like to explain cause it’s definitely regional and sets the scene of what I am thinking of when I’m writing.

Part Ten || Part Twelve || Masterpost (mobile) || Fanfic masterpost

“I need somebody, ANYBODY, to get in a car or something and get to Grand Central terminal right now.”

Steve was on multiple way call with the team that answered the phone, sitting in the passenger seat while Natasha sped down the freeway. Tony had separated from them, heading towards the Avengers facility where he could have more cameras which gave him more eyes. Facial recognition was granted at the facility grounds on a larger scale of satellites too unlike his house.

“You wanna tell us what for?” Rhodes asked perplexed.

“Y/N left,” Steve snapped. There was a chorus of murmurs from all ends of the phone call, generally ignored by Steve who was too hot headed to acknowledge their concern. “I don’t know where the hell she is going. But Nat heard her whispering to her friend in the bathroom about taking a train. To god knows where.

“Do we know it’s going to be Grand Central?” Sam inquired calmly.

“No, not for sure! But I want it covered. As soon as possible! They got a half hour head start or so from my house. Nat and I are going to Penn. That’s where the Amtrak is. Tony’s accessing surveillance, using facial recognition.

“What do you want us to do if we find her?” Bucky asked.

“Don’t hurt her,” Steve ordered.

“Well, no shit,” Bucky cut in, unable to hold back his sarcasm. “I meant, where do you want us to—”

“She’s with one – or two, I’m not sure – of her friends,” Steve interrupted, strained. “Try to make it as quiet as possible. I don’t want it all over the evening news. Just—get Y/N away from there.”

“What about her friends?” Clint pointed out.

“I’ll deal with them later,” Steve got out in a surly tone. “Call me if you find her.”

<><><>

You laid across the backseat of the car, examining your nails.

“I really don’t like you having no seatbelt on,” Natalie said for what felt like the tenth time since you had escaped past the gate of your house.

“I’ll sit up when my back hurts,” you responded, stretching one of your legs as far as you could towards the ceiling. You grunted when you felt a pull in your lower abdomen.

“We are out of the gate, Y/N. And away from cameras. We are on a highway.”

“There are still cameras. But I know. It’s been like an hour.”

You were tingling with anticipation, threatening to eat you alive. You half expected Natalie to slam on her brakes at any seconds because Steve landed in front of the car in the lane. You doubted though he would want to put you in danger and that could cause a huge accident.

Would not want to hurt his precious cargo, you thought to yourself darkly.

Yua sighed from the passenger seat and looked back at you around the seat. She had decided to come with the pair of you and had been filled in on the situation after you had successfully gotten through the gate. You almost snorted at the absurdity of the fact all you had to do was wear a hood and one of Steve’s baseball caps to shield your face and make sure to not make eye contact with the guards meandering around the gate. Holding the backpack in your lap had helped to hide your stomach.

“Y/N. Sit up. Please. Stop making Natalie get worry lines, it’s starting to stress me out. It’s not like they won’t be looking for Natalie’s plates in the cameras if they have access outside of New York.” You were sure Tony did. His company was worldwide. “I don’t think them seeing your face is going to make any difference. They saw you get in the car on the surveillance tapes at your house by now.”

You exhaled heavily, knowing she was right. You imagined Steve seeing the tapes and turning around to tear a door of his hinges, hurling it across the room. You would laugh at the imagery if it did not simultaneously terrify you. Sitting up with some difficulty, you patted Natalie’s shoulder who thanked you.

The two of them had turned their phones off – you had left yours behind. You were sure Tony would figure out how to track theirs but yours was definitely compromised. You did not even want it on you, choosing to leave it on the entrance table by the front door.

It was scary. You could not stop thinking about how angry Steve would be – was. It was present tense now for sure. He had to have figured out you were missing by now. Otherwise, Wanda, Bryce, and Patricia were completely inept, which you knew was not the case.

Staring out the window, you watched the trees go by trying to think about the nature walks you could go on without watchful eyes around the cabin. It lulled you into some sense of relaxation.

<><><>

Steve stormed through the terminal, his eyes watchful on the crowd for anything that screamed Y/N from behind or a profile. His eyes zeroed in on the back of a woman’s head and he changed course quickly, coming up to her, shoving his way through the crowd much to some people’s annoyance at being shoved aside. He grabbed her arm and whipped her around when he was on her.

She cried out in half fear and half pain.

It was not Y/N.

“Sorry,” he said not sounding sorry at all. “Thought you were someone else.”

She glared at him, rubbing her arm. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

Steve bit back a comment, turning from her without a word.

“Hey, aren’t you Captain America?” someone asked him from a few feet away. That caught the woman’s attention, as well as others.

Steve shot the kid an annoyed look and said clipped, “Not right now, kid. Sorry. I’m busy.”

He took off again before anyone could say anything else, god forbid ask him for an autograph or a selfie. His heart was hammering, searching desperately. He came to a stop, staring out over the crowd. Hope she was here was dwindling fast. He felt like his chest was going to explode from the myriad of feelings coursing through him right now.

I’m not seeing her, Natasha texted him. He had sent her the opposite way from him, telling her to check the female bathrooms that direction. He was getting similar texts from the group at Grand Central too and he could not stand to look at his phone anymore, shoving it into his back pocket furiously.

He ran his hand through his hair, tugging on it near the ends in frustration. He took one more stroll down the terminal, scouring it to make sure he had not missed her. Natasha appeared and without a word went into the bathrooms to cover her bases.

When she appeared again, she was empty handed. She approached him slowly, with caution, his gaze burning into her.

“I shouldn’t have left the house,” Natasha said, shaking her head. She looked disappointed and guilty.

“You couldn’t have known it was going to be right then,” Steve said tightly. He had little patience for coddling someone else’s feelings right now but extended the gesture briefly because it was Nat. His face hardened, shaking his head slightly. “I’m gonna tell them I’m heading home to speak to that bumbling idiot I call my security guard.”

<><><>

Natasha had barely got the car into park before Steve threw the door open and made a beeline for the front door of his house. The door bounced off the wall with the sheer force he threw it open with. Natasha followed him, far more collected. She grabbed the door, closing it, eyeing the hole the doorhandle had made into the wall. She shook her head before following Steve towards the living room.

Bryce stood up from the couch on sight seeing Steve. Wanda did as well, far less stricken looking than Bryce though. She looked concerned.

“Did you—” she started to ask Steve, but he cut her off, all his rage radiating towards Bryce as he stormed in.

“How the fuck did you let this happen?” Steve roared at Bryce.

“The front gate didn’t catch her—” Bryce tried to pass the buck onto the other men, but Steve was not having an ounce of it.

He was towering over Bryce now, Bryce trying to not fold in Steve’s shadow. “I don’t care about the front gate! She shouldn’t have even been able to get into the car!”

Blubbering, Bryce tried to say, “There were a lot of women, Mr. Rogers. She was starting to say goodbye to them all—”

“You didn’t think to be outside? To keep an eye on her? Not even for a second? That didn’t cross your mind?”

“I didn’t expect her to leave.”

“Now that—” Steve snarled, pointing threateningly in Bryce’s face, causing him to flinch. “I find to be an egregious lie!”

“S-s-sir?”

Steve moved closer if that was possible, his nose inches from Bryce’s. Bryce visibly gulped, trying to not break eye contact with him. Steve’s voice was dangerously low, “Do you have something to tell me, Bryce?”

“I’m not sure what you mean, sir.”

“Bryce. I am giving you one chance to be honest with me: Did Y/N ask you for help to leave me?”

Bryce’s forehead was covered in a sheen of nervous sweat. His eyes darted nervously to Wanda who was standing nearby, watching the scene unfold curiously. She did not move to help, and he was forced to focus back on Steve knowing Natasha would not help him under any circumstance.

He licked his lips nervously and exhaled shakily. “Yes. But—”

He did not get to finish because Steve had taken a step back, cocked his arm back and socked him straight in the face, knocking him backward. Bryce yelped in agony, grasping at his nose as he laid on the ground, blood gushing from his broken nose. Steve unholstered his gun and Bryce saw, his eyes growing wide as saucers. His broken nose was quickly forgotten, holding up his hands in front of him as he pleaded for Steve to not do it, but his sniveling went unheeded. Steve unloaded half a round into his chest.

Steve’s hand shook now, and he lowered the gun slowly to his side. His eyes were absent of warmth, staring down at the man who he had entrusted his future wife and children’s safety to. Bryce’s eyes were still open in fear, blood trickling from his mouth as his head and arms slumped to the ground. His chest stopped moving in a matter of seconds, lying in a quickly forming puddle of red.

Rolling his shoulders back and cracking his neck, Steve replaced his gun, taking a deep breath, exhaling slowly.

“They could have gone anywhere,” he finally said tautly.

“Steve, I’m sorry,” Wanda offered, taking a few steps towards him.

“You weren’t in charge of watching her,” Steve responded, still not looking at the two women behind him.

The front door opened loudly down the hall and there were running steps, putting the trio on the defense quickly. Two of Steve’s security guards came into view, both out of breath. They both visibly relaxed seeing Steve still standing there, their eyes only flicking to Bryce’s body on the ground for a second. To their credit, they both did not blanch.

One offered, “Sorry for running in. We heard shots.”

Steve ignored her apology, beginning to walk. “Clean up the body and get rid of it. Now,” Steve ordered impatiently, moving past her.

“Where are you going?” Natasha asked, moving to follow him, Wanda in tandem.

“Back to the facility. It’s time to brainstorm and make a different plan,” Steve said over his shoulder.

<><><>

The cabin was two stories, an open floor plan on both floors. There was a wall shielding the top loft bedroom from view and a bedroom on the ground floor. Immediately, Natalie said the three of you could sleep upstairs since there was a queen bed and another twin bed. Yua pointed out that there was a back door right next to the other bedroom and you would be able to hear if someone came in there. Plus, people in horror movies always ran upstairs which ended in their demise. She stopped arguing when Natalie said there was a staircase from the upper deck outside the bedroom leading to the backyard.

“Wow, there are some CDs here,” Yua said flipping through a small case next to an entertainment center. “It’s like we are back in the 90s.”

“Hey, that entertainment console was top notch in the 90s. Don’t trash talk it,” Natalie joked.

“Gotta leave things people don’t want to steal since they use this as an air bnb,” you teased and Natalie pointed at you, acknowledging that.

Yua laughed, “They’re all burned CDs too. Oh, look. Top hits ’04. Oh, that’s past the 90s. Upgrading.” You chuckled as she pulled the CD out, opening the console. “Oh, my! And it’s a six disc! We could change albums whenever we want. Is there a remote? Oh, yes!” She chose five more random albums and put them in as well, closing it and choosing the original disc she had put in.

The first song started out and the three of you immediately made eye contact. “Oh my god. I have not heard this song in forever. A true lost Destiny’s Child gem,” Natalie said, unable to stop laughing. “Ooh, I put it right there, made it easy for you to get to…” she began to sing as she moved towards the kitchen to put the bags of food on the counter.

She had stopped at a mini mart near the bottom of the mountain to grab a good amount of food to hold you guys over. Yua and her had left you in the car to be able to cover the store quicker to leave as little time as possible staying stagnant in a parking lot. The whole time you had been on edge, pulling your hood as far down your face as you could while trying to keep a look out. Every car that drove by on the highway made the hairs on your arms stand up, praying it would not whip around and come back to you.

“If Mr. Brightside isn’t on this album, I’m going to be really disappointed. That was a true gem of my childhood,” Yua chimed in. She flopped onto the couch, stretching out. “Feels good to not be in the car. Hey, Nat, can you bring me one of my beers. Please?” She shot you an apologetic look. “Sorry, Y/N.”

“Just four more months,” you said lightly, touching your stomach as you sat down as well.

Yua reached over, caressing your stomach lightly. “Can’t you not drink while you’re breastfeeding too?”

“Don’t tell me that.”

“Sorry,” Yua snickered as Natalie came out of the kitchen holding a beer and a glass of wine.

She held it out to you, and you stared at her in bewilderment that she was offering you alcohol.

“It’s not rosé,” Natalie smiled. “It’s sparkling. A blush kind.”

“How nice of you,” you said, smiling in return. You took a small sip and said, “Hmm. It’ll do.”

“I’ll take that as a ‘thank you, Natalie’,” Natalie intoned, turning on her heel and walking back towards the kitchen.

“Thank you, Natalie,” you and Yua intoned back in unison.

“I’ll make dinner. What’s it gonna be? Frozen meal of mac and cheese or frozen meal of Salisbury steak?” Natalie asked, facing the two of you. “Or… there’s tater tots. Or pizza… and we could make a fruit salad on the side.”

“Thank god for the fruit,” Yua commented, grinning. “I say you make the pizza and fruit. Gotta pretend Y/N is still trying to be healthy somehow.”

Despite laughing, you did think of how Steve would react seeing you eating all this processed food, the same day you had cake no less. Touching your stomach again, you rubbed gently, thinking surely Steve was trying his damnedest to see you too.

~~~

Tags: @imsonick , @alexakeyloveloki, @kvzctam, @ironlady1993, @taintedgenre, @inlovewiththefictionalcharacters @roxyfan14-blog

[stillness-in-green]

I felt like the plf war was rushed

1.Plf advisors getting hype but no payoff

2.Only miruko, Momo, and Kirishma got time to shine

3.Machia got defeated to easily

4.The war felt more like a raid

I don't know if I feel like it was rushed, per se--it's by far the longest arc in the story so far by number of chapters, and would be even if you cut off the Tartarus jailbreak and the entirety of the hospital aftermath. What it absolutely does feel like to me is unbalanced.

You note that the "war" feels more like a raid, and you're right. As a caveat, it's worth keeping in mind that "Paranormal Liberation War" as a name for the arc in question is entirely an invention of the fanbase. To the best of my knowledge, the reasoning for the name was that big action shonen series like BNHA (Naruto, Bleach, Hunter x Hunter, etc) always have a war arc, so what we were seeing in the lengthy, mass combat confrontation with the PLF had to be HeroAca's equivalent. It's not a term that's in the manga itself, however, not called as such by the characters, not referred to as such by Horikoshi or his editors, not even namedropped in chapter or volume titles. If it feels like a raid, that's probably because that's what it was intended to be.

And that's the problem, really. This arc shouldn't have been about a couple of raids; it should have been about a war.

(Below the cut: a bunch of fired-up complaining. Uses some harsh language, and talks about both injuries and deaths we did see and some we logically should have.)

From the outset, we were told that the resources Shigaraki had amassed were "on par with, or even stronger than" the resources of the hero-saturated society. Yet, we're expected to believe that a force that strong is so easily taken down by a single coordinated set of raids? Yes, the heroes had the benefit of surprise, but there's just so much that doesn't work for me.

First off, and to get this out of the way, it's ridiculous that the heroes even had the benefit of surprise. The MLA had an unknown number of hero double agents. They had people in the government; they had people in the infrastructure. This is an organization that had been living undercover completely unsuspected for multiple generations--how did the HPSC ever manage to carry out a massive, country-wide investigation on such a secretive group and coordinate multiple simultaneous, comprehensive raids without a single person finding out and alerting the higher-ups over a period of only three and a half months?

When exactly did Hawks have time to go and revive Best Jeanist--which he tells us he did personally--such that none of the bugs and micro-cameras he was covered with picked up on it, and both he and BJ could be back in the positions they needed to be in for the raid to begin?

How did Skeptic find out about the raid such that he only discovered it at the last possible second and not minutes, even hours, before it kicked off? How did hundreds of heroes (and even "hundreds" is being conservative, given the fact that they had seventeen thousand people to detain) close in on the villa without anyone from the PLF noticing, either Skeptic with his information network or mundane precautions like people on watch?

Even granting the heroes their surprise advantage--which I don't want to--if the advisors were all supposedly "stronger than the average hero," why didn't we see any of them winning? Okay, yes, Hose Face beat Midnight, but he had every possible advantage in that "fight"; I hardly count it as some big impressive defeat that shows us that the villains were holding their own.

Here's another thing: the MLA styled themselves as an army--they were demonstrably trained in troop tactics. When we saw them in Deika, even their nameless on-the-ground people were capable of coordinating with each other on the fly in response to the movements of the enemy, as we saw come up repeatedly:

Yeah, they were off-guard at first, but as soon as the advisors made the front line (which, you'll note, was immediately), that disadvantage really should have begun eroding. Certainly once Geten--Geten! The number one MLA member most willing to disregard collateral damage! And there he was being a proper leader!--got to the front and started yelling orders, we should have seen the PLF rallying, and I can't imagine any sensible justification for the tides not turning when a) Re-Destro showed up to occupy the highest-ranked hero on the field, b) a bunch of heroes peeled off to try to stop Machia only to get trampled for their efforts, and c) Trumpet got dug out.

You know who don't style themselves as an army, though? Heroes. Oh, they get some basic lessons in cooperation as students, but the extent of such lessons we see is stuff like "why it's important for heroes to have signature moves"--so that on group missions, their reputations will precede them and fellow heroes will already know their shtick. U.A. teaches the odd lesson plan that involves the kids fighting in groups, but there's a huge difference between you and 3 to 6 of your buddies fighting a similarly-sized group in a practice fight, or a handful of heroes teaming up to take down some criminal low-lives, and the mass combat scenario that was the raid. For heaven's sake, look at our closest other equivalent: the raid on the Hassaikai base. At every turn in that encounter, the heroes let themselves get split up and picked off, winnowing down their numbers. It's even explicit in the narrative that hero team-ups were, in the age of All Might, uncommon, and heroes are only just beginning to adjust to fighting in teams. The erstwhile MLA should have had the advantage there.

As to Machia's defeat, I think the big problem with it is not how it happened, per se, but the timescale involved. The plan itself was sound enough, and even with all the kids' efforts, it still took Machia reaching Shigaraki and not getting any new orders to follow to really do him in. Given what we can extrapolate about his movement speed, though, I just don't think the kids should have had time to set all those traps, especially given how much of that equipment would have had to be fabricated by Momo on the fly. I know she's gotten stronger and all, and good for her, but you're telling me that in the four months between Joint Training and the raid, she went from passing out because she created a bag of goodies and one (1) cannon to being totally fine and still able to coordinate her fellow students while cranking out 23 jars of sedative, dozens of feet of rope/cable, multiple fire-resistant coats, explosives they somehow had time to bury, and three cannons?

For fuck's sake, Jirou gave Machia's ETA as under ten seconds. Yeah, Mount Lady slowed him down, but "only a little"--how much time could she possibly have bought them, that the kids were able to to coordinate and enact everything that plan involved?

You guys, go read this post by @codenamesazanka. Machia is so fast. So unbelievably, incredibly fast. "Twice as fast as the fastest train in the world" fast. "Horikoshi clearly did not stop to think about the distances involved here" fast. Three miles in ten seconds fast. It would have been hard enough to square with the needs of the plot that the kids were sufficiently far from the villa to have the kind of time they needed to swing Momo's plan at all, but Horikoshi explicitly letting Machia get right on top of them before the kids even start just makes it completely impossible for me to credit. Machia clearly being slower aboveground than he is when burrowing does not make that much difference to my suspension of disbelief.

My other big complaint? More people should have died, for real. The PLF warriors would not have been holding back. They were ready and willing to kill anyone they came up against. The heroes did have to hold back, because heroes, as we're told over and over again, are not supposed to kill, no matter how dire the circumstances. That difference in ability to exercise force should have been yet another significant advantage for the PLF. I could write an entire list of characters that I think could have reasonably been killed during the raids. That wouldn't be to say that I think any individual, specific character on that list should have died, just that, based on the parameters as they were presented to audience, some number of them should have.

I mean, honestly. How did Horikoshi wanna show us Gang Orca's unmoving claw in the wake of Machia's passage and not have Gang Orca on the list of the dead? How did Fat Gun run right into a mass melee and still have enough fat left over afterward to survive getting trampled by a walking mountain? How did Thirteen survive not getting pulled out of the hospital basement when Shigaraki's Decay hit? How did Trumpet survive getting a staircase dropped on top of him? How did Gran Torino survive a fist through his tiny old man chest cavity?

I could go on and on, but it's not just about the deaths, either. I'm not saying that Kamui Woods necessarily should have died by swinging himself face-first into a blast of blue fire, but I am saying that he should have been out of commission for longer than three goddamn days. You bet your ass I'm saying that after telling us that Hawks' weak point is fire, making us watch him spend at a solid minute or more with his wings wholly enveloped in Dabi's 2000 degree flames, and having Dark Shadow exclaim that his back is completely burned away, Hawks should never have grown his wings back, much less so quickly that they were already visible under his shirt a single day later.

More deaths, more maiming--heck, even more retirements. I'm not saying I love that kind of thing in my fiction--I don't, actually. I think an overreliance on it is a sign of edgelordy nonsense. But the scenario that we had demanded to be treated with the kind of gravity that would have led to such an outcome. To set up a conflict like the raid and have the villains only barely be able to scrape a partial escape, to try to tell us that Shigaraki's victory in Deika granted him such a terrifyingly powerful force only to have them lose every battle they got into, to tell us this was a blow that shook Hero Society to its core, only to be so unwilling to kill or retire any heroes the audience cares about that Midnight is literally the only significant loss… It doesn't work. None of it works.

I don't have much to say on which characters did or didn't get a highlight. I think there were a few more people than you listed that got some good scenes--Tokoyami and Uraraka both got material I liked quite a bit; Dabi famously out-trended the U.S. presidential election on Twitter when he (literally) came clean, and Mr. Compress gave us some wonderfully interesting and characteristically opaque material to chew on. On the whole, though, adding more character moments would only have been dragging out the problem: the scale of the PLF's threat and the HPSC's chosen method of dealing with it are simply incompatible with the feeble "neither side truly won or lost" resolution we got.

And that's my rant on that--thanks for the ask!

[king-finnigan]

these four walls (supposed to save you from yourself)

part 1, part 2, part 3. also on AO3. requested by @dibsonsmth

When Jaskier gets invited to play a few songs for the patients of the mental health ward his best friend Triss works at, he doesn't expect much of it. After all, he's just a music teacher with a guitar, the most he can do for these people is to entertain them for a short while.

But then he finds out about Geralt, who's spent the past few months in the ward without even leaving his room, and Jaskier realizes that he might still be able to make a difference, after all.

“It’s not too late to turn back, Jask,” Triss says softly, big, brown eyes regarding him with concern.

He sighs, carding his hands through his hair as he looks in the rearview mirror, trying to fix the tangled mess at least a little bit. Eventually, he gives up and leans back, hands falling limply into his lap where his fingers start drumming a quick staccato on his thighs.

“I know,” he says with a nervous smile. “But it’s just a little bit of stage fright. Nothing to worry about.”

“Are you sure? You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

“No, I want to.” He opens the passenger door, getting out of the car and retrieving his guitar from the backseat, carding his sweaty hand through his hair one last time.

It had been Triss’ idea to begin with. At the time, he’d wholeheartedly said yes. Now, though… now he’s not so sure anymore. After all, he doesn’t really know what he can do for these people. They’re all here because they form a danger to either themselves or others. And Jaskier? Well, Jaskier’s just a guy with a guitar.

But Triss takes care of these patients day in day out, surely she wouldn’t have invited Jaskier to come sing for them if she didn’t think it would help.

He sighs again and takes a leap of faith.

The mental health ward occupies the top floor of the hospital, and the lift ride up is quiet and uneventful, though the nervous twang in Jaskier’s stomach only grows as he fiddles with the strap of his guitar case.

Finally, the lift doors open and he and Triss step out into a bright yellow hall, two closed sliding doors separating them from the actual ward. He watches as Triss scans her badge and types in a code, and hurries forward when the doors slide open and she ushers him inside. He watches again when she closes the doors right away.

“Safety precautions,” she clarifies when she sees him looking. “To make sure no one who’s not allowed to leave actually leaves.”

“Ah,” he says sheepishly, shifting from one foot to the other as he turns around to look at the room.

It’s a large, round space, the walls painted yellow and white, large windows letting in the bright sunlight from outside, spilling over the grey linoleum floor and the green couches and chairs that litter the room in small groups, gathered around low coffee tables. There are people sitting here and there, some sharing a table and playing a board game together, others sharing a table as well but sitting in silence – merely enjoying each other’s company, and others sitting all alone, but seemingly content in their solitude. Some are younger, some are older.

And it’s… peaceful. Quiet. Comforting.

He knows that the image people have of mental health wards is quite different from reality, but still, it catches him off-guard.

“It’s still quite early.” He startles at Triss’ voice behind him, breaking the soft lull in the room. “The group therapy sessions start in a few hours, so you’ve got their attention for now.”

He turns back to the room. “And this is everyone?”

She crosses her arms, leaning her shoulder against his. “No, but it is almost everyone. There’s three people missing. Ciri, who’s been restrained because she keeps scratching open her wounds and we don’t have enough staff to keep an eye on her all day. Dara, her best friend – he won’t leave her side, so he’s in her room as well. And Geralt.”

“Right, I’ll pay them a visit as well afterwards.”

She smiles at him. “I’m sure Ciri and Dara would love it, but don’t waste your breath on Geralt, buttercup. Don’t take it personally, he’s not fond of people in general. And he’s quite stubborn in his hatred of others.”

“Really?”

“Hmm. He’s been here a few months already and he’s yet to join a single group therapy session.”

“Well, I’ll see what I can do.” He nudges her, giving her an overexaggerated wink. “Who knows? Maybe I’ll be the one to melt his frosty exterior.”

“Doubt it,” she deadpans. “Now go on, get ready for your performance, maestro. We’re wasting valuable time here.”

---

It goes surprisingly well, the whole thing. Some of the people gather around him as he sings, others content to just stay where they are and listen. He gets a few requests, even, which he is very happy to fulfil.

And before he knows it, two hours have passed, and people start to file out of the room to attend the group therapy sessions.

He doesn’t put his guitar back in its case just yet, though, as he remembers the promise he made to Triss to check up on Ciri and Dara and the ever-grumpy Geralt.

“Knock, knock,” he says, quickly rapping his knuckles against the doorframe, a big smile plastered on his face as he carefully inches into the room. “Am I interrupting?”

There’s a boy and a girl there. The girl is half-lying in bed, her back propped up with several pillows, blonde hair fanning out over the white linen. Her lower arms are wrapped in bandages, the restraints around her wrist binding her to the sides of the bed. The boy is sitting in the chair next to the bed, playing with the sleeves of his too-big shirt, face slightly sunken. Jaskier can’t help but notice how thin his wrists are, and he doesn’t doubt for a second that he could easily fit his thumb and forefinger around them.

Their eyes turn to Jaskier.

“No, it’s fine.” The girl – Ciri, presumably – is the first one to speak. “Are you a new nurse?”

He shakes his head. “I’m Jaskier, I’m…” he lifts his guitar “…I suppose ‘entertainment’ is the word that fits best here. I just played a few songs in the common room, but I didn’t want to leave you guys bereft. If you want, I can sing something for you.”

Ciri’s smile widens. “Sure! I would love that.” She turns to the boy. “Dara, is that alright with you?” The boy nods.

Jaskier pulls a folding chair from the wardrobe – something Triss told him he would find there – and sits down, gently strumming his guitar once to make sure it’s still in tune. “And what would you like to hear?”

She grins at him. “Happy Together by the Turtles!” she says gleefully, and God, she’s truly precious. Jaskier gets the sneaking suspicion he won’t ever be able to say no to her.

He starts playing.

---

Half an hour later, he finds himself in front of another doorway, this time leading to a darkened room, the sunblind pulled down completely to shroud the space in darkness, casting thin strips of sunlight across the walls and floor. Still, Jaskier can see well enough to spot the man sitting at the far end of the room, in front of a table with a chess board.

“Knock, knock,” Jaskier calls, rapping his knuckles on the doorframe. “You must be Geralt, right?”

The man doesn’t look up but simply lifts his hand to move a chess piece, slowly turning the board around afterwards.

Jaskier clears his throat to break the awkward silence, taking a few steps into the room. “I’m Jaskier. I’m uh… entertainment. I’ve got my guitar with me and I can sing a few songs for you if you want. You just need to ask.”

Now that he’s a bit closer, he can see that Geralt has stark white hair, falling in soft, barely-there waves down to his shoulders, tied back into a half-ponytail. Jaskier resists the urge to check if it’s as soft as it looks.

But from here, he can also see that the man doesn’t even grant him a sideways glance. Quite the opposite; Geralt even seems to turn away from Jaskier the closer he gets, giving him the cold shoulder.

“Are you sure there’s no song you want to hear? If you can’t decide, I can pick out something for you, perhaps.”

There’s no movement from Geralt, he’s as still as a statue as his eyes keep drilling holes into the chess board. It’s too dark for Jaskier to see the colour of those irises, but they’re certainly light, and in the back of his mind he ponders how splendid they would probably look in the sunlight.

The silence stretches on. Geralt moves a chess piece. Turns the board.

“As uh… charming as you are, my dearest Geralt, I do wanna know what type of music you like, so I can sing something for you.”

Geralt balls his hands into tight fists on the table. His shoulders grow tense.

He still doesn’t say a word, but Jaskier gets the message: Fuck off.

He laughs nervously, fingers drumming on the wood of the guitar. “Right!” he says, forcibly bright. “I see you’re busy, so I won’t continue to disturb you. I’ll be back next week.” He takes a few steps backwards. Geralt still doesn’t acknowledge his presence. “Alright… Bye, then.”

He turns around and walks out of the room, letting out a long breath once he’s back in the bright hallway. That really didn’t go well – but then again, Triss already warned him it wouldn’t.

Doesn’t matter. If Geralt wants to be a grumpy boor, then who is Jaskier to stop him?

But, as he teaches one of his students how to strum a few chords correctly that afternoon, he can’t help but let his mind wander back to that mysterious man with white hair, sitting all alone in that darkened room, playing chess against himself.

---

He’s back two days later. He knows the deal with Triss was that he’d be there once a week, but something draws him back to the place – whether it’s his captive audience, Ciri’s bright smile, Dara’s quiet gratitude, or Geralt’s unreadable silence, Jaskier doesn’t know. He supposes it doesn’t matter.

He takes the elevator back up, shooting Triss a quick text to ask her to open the door for him as he fiddles with the strap of his guitar case, letting his nail dig a path in the soft leather.

Triss greets him the second he steps out of the lift, arms crossed in front of her chest, eyebrow pulled up, eyes glinting with something annoyed and fond she saves especially for Jaskier.

“You know you’re not expected until next week, right?”

He shrugs, scratching the back of his neck. “I know, but I don’t have any plans for the morning, so I figured why not, you know?”

She purses her lips, narrowing her eyes at him before she sighs and relents, waving him inside. “Come on, mister Impatient. Let’s go, then.”

---

“Knock, knock.” He quickly raps on the doorframe, taking a tentative step into the darkened room.

Geralt is sitting at the table again, hunched in on himself as his eyes remain fixed on the chess board. Slowly, he lifts a hand, moving a piece before he slowly turns the board around, propping a fist under his chin, the other arm laid across his lap. Jaskier knows that, were he a drawer or artist of sorts, he would draw Geralt exactly the way he is now: sitting in a dark and empty room, still as a statue in front of the chess board as the sunlight filters through the blinds, painting him in black and white, casting dark shadows and yellow highlights on his face.

But he’s not. He’s a musician, and though he likes to consider himself quite good at what he does, he knows he could never do this image justice.

For now, though, he takes in every little detail and commits it to memory, imprinting it on his mind.

He takes another few steps forward. He’s halfway across the room now. “I know I said I’d be back next week,” he says softly – his normal volume too loud for the stillness of this room. “But I’m back now. Did you think of any songs for me to sing to you?”

Geralt ignores him. He moves a chess piece. Turns the board.

Jaskier sighs, leaning against the wall, idly plucking a few random notes. “Well,” he muses, “if you can’t decide, I suppose I’ll have to decide for you.”

Geralt’s hands ball into fists, his shoulders grow tense. Once again, he’s telling Jaskier to piss off without really saying anything.

This time, though, Jaskier decides to ignore it. If it angers Geralt more, then so be it – as long as he doesn’t outright tell Jaskier to go away, he’s not going anywhere.

He strums a few chords. “How do you feel about ‘Big Yellow Taxi’?” The man on the other side of the room doesn’t answer, doesn’t even deign him worthy of a sideways glance.

So Jaskier starts to sing.

And still, throughout it all, Geralt doesn’t say a word. He moves a chess piece once or twice, turning the board right afterwards, but his head doesn’t even incline towards Jaskier. He doesn’t give him any acknowledgement, any sign that he’s aware Jaskier is there at all.

Jaskier keeps on singing as if Geralt isn’t there, either.

And then the song ends. Jaskier strums the last chord on his guitar, eyes glued to Geralt’s silhouette, tracing the line of every highlight and shadow, following the movement of his muscles and tendons as Geralt lifts a hand, sliding a chess piece across the wood before turning the board again. His face is still, oh so still, the dim light and the bright rays of sunshine streaming through the blinds making it seem as if he’s been hewn from marble, as if he’s a work of art come to life, an ancient Greek statue from the hands of the old masters themselves that’s been granted a beating heart by the gods.

Jaskier could drown in the vision before him.

Light eyes quickly dart to him, the first acknowledgement of his existence since he stepped foot into the room, and suddenly his mind slams back into his body. He’s hyper-aware of every single little thing – of the frantic pounding of his heart, the rushing of blood in his ears, the breath that catches in his lungs when their gazes meet for a split second, the twitching of his muscles as his body desperately tries to tap out his nervousness on his guitar.

For only a second, the world stops spinning.

Geralt looks away again and Jaskier takes a few steps backwards, heat rising to his cheeks and ears as he swallows around the lump in his throat.

“R- right, then,” he stammers. “See you around, Geralt.”

He practically flees from the hospital room.

---

Hours later, his fingers are still trembling with the sheer force and weight of Geralt’s eyes on him, even if it was just for a second or so.

He retrieves the old, square box from the attic of the house his parents left him – it’s still where he remembers stashing it, years ago. He opens it on his desk, shaky hands setting up the pieces before he types the question on his phone.

How to play chess.

---

He’s back on Sunday.

Triss snorts when she greets him at the doors, rolling her eyes at him. “You know,” she says, “I won’t always be around to let you in, if you’re going to keep showing up all the time.”

He smiles sheepishly. “What can I say? I just really like it here.”

She narrows her eyes at him, smiling mischievously. “You like Geralt, you mean. I could see you last time, coming out of his room while blushing like a comely maiden. What happened?”

He shrugs. “Nothing. I just sang a song for him.”

“And he let you?” She huffs out a laugh. “Well, who could’ve seen that one coming? Come on, let’s get you inside, lover boy.”

He sputters a bit, but follows her through the doors all the same.

---

“Knock, knock,” he says, tapping on the doorframe a few times before he takes a few steps inside the dark room. “I’m uh… I’m back.”

He fiddles with the strap of his guitar case for a few seconds before pulling it over his head, setting the instrument against the wall.

Geralt is once again sitting on the other side of the room, still as a statue, eyes drilling holes into the chess board as he completely ignores Jaskier. But he won’t be able to much longer – Jaskier will make sure of that.

Whether his actions will anger Geralt enough for the man to start yelling at him, he doesn’t know. But as he looks at Geralt’s face, at the way the sunlight peeking through the blinds makes parts his hair shine in a white-golden halo around his head, he decides that it’s a risk he’s willing to take. If only so that Geralt will at least look at him.

He crosses the room in a few steps and snatches two pawns off the board.

And that does catch Geralt’s attention.

Light eyes flicker up to look at him, making his breath catch in his lungs with the intensity of that gaze, with the anger slowly budding on Geralt’s face. But Jaskier doesn’t step back or turn away. He simply puts his hands behind his back, switching the pieces around a few times before holding out his fists, a pawn in each one.

“Choose,” he says. Geralt’s eyes stay glued to his face, eyebrows slowly drawing together, hands curling into fists.

Jaskier sighs. “I’m getting tired of having to see you play chess all by yourself. It’s quite sad to watch, really. So, pick a colour and we’ll play together.”

The silence in the room is almost palpable, unmoving to the point where Jaskier can almost taste it on his tongue. His head grows light, dizziness setting in as he keeps holding his breath – his lungs won’t cooperate as long as Geralt’s still looking at him.

And slowly, ever so slowly, the man in front of him lifts a hand, eyes never leaving Jaskier’s face as he softly taps a finger on Jaskier’s left fist.

He opens it, presenting the white pawn to Geralt.

He sits down on the other side of the table, setting the pawns on the board, rearranging the black pieces into two neat, little rows. Geralt does the same, although more slowly, as though he doesn’t quite believe what’s going on. Jaskier watches the man move the pieces, watches sure and strong hands delicately hold those little, fragile things and put them on their assigned square. He imagines how Geralt’s fingers would twitch slightly as Jaskier would hold his hand palm-up, trailing his finger over his skin lightly. He imagines how those scarred fingers would curl around his, hand warm in Jaskier’s.

And then Geralt’s done. Light eyes look up at Jaskier, catching the sunlight streaming through the blinds, and suddenly he can see that they’re amber. A rich, deep amber that holds soft golden and brown flecks, the colour of sunflowers in a summer field, the colour of honey dripping down a finger before it’s licked up, the colour of ambrosia and the nectar of the gods.

It’s a colour Jaskier would gladly lose himself in.

“All yours,” he says breathlessly, feeling as though the words have been punched from his chest.

Golden eyes flicker down to the chess board and a strong, scarred hand moves up to slide a pawn across the wood. Geralt’s gaze shifts back up to him, and for a second, it feels like Jaskier might die from the intensity of it.

He swallows thickly, quickly looking at the board and moving his own pawn. He barely even remembers the things he learned about chess the past few days – hell, he barely even remembers his own name, as if Jaskier’s entire life threatens to wash away whenever those golden eyes look at him, as if every moment has been meaningless up until this point.

Geralt moves a chess piece. Jaskier follows suit.

Slowly, as the minutes tick by one at a time, Jaskier starts to relax bit by bit. His focus shifts from the man in front of him to the chess board and the soft melody that’s starting to build at the back of his mind.

After a while of having it stuck in his head, he starts humming it.

Golden eyes meet his.

“Oh, you don’t mind, do you?” he asks, concern knitting his eyebrows together. Because as much as he loves music and loves making it, he doesn’t want to risk shattering the fragile bond he has with Geralt, doesn’t want to lose this just yet.

Geralt’s gaze drifts back to the board. He moves another piece. He doesn’t say anything.

Jaskier takes that as encouragement and starts humming again.

He loses the game in thirteen more moves.

He grins up at Geralt as they both move the pieces back into place. “Well, that was a disaster. Forgive me, I’m not really that familiar with the game yet, but maybe I’ll learn if you give me a chance?”

He phrases it as a question, a gentle hope igniting in his chest. He probably won’t coax Geralt into talking just yet, but if he can just get a reaction – anything other than silent glances – it will make everything worth it.

Please give me a chance.

Geralt looks up at him, face as perfectly still and unreadable as ever as the silence stretches on between them. Eventually, he looks back down again.

He lifts a hand and moves a pawn forward, starting a new game.

Jaskier can’t help the grin that spreads across his face.

---

“Jesus, buttercup. Back again, already?” Triss asks him on Tuesday, furrowing her brows at him. “I think I’ll put in a request with the admin to get you your own badge. I really can’t be here to let you in all the time, you know.”

“I know.” He smiles at her before slipping inside the ward, blowing her a kiss as he walks backwards towards the hallway that leads to Geralt’s room. “I owe you one!”

“You owe me several, buttercup!” she shouts back at him.

---

“Hmm, what do you think is better, Geralt? ‘Gorgeous garrotter’, or ‘lovely garrotter’?”

Golden eyes flicker up to his, before looking back at the board. Geralt moves his bishop.

“Yeah, you’re right. Just ‘garrotter’ would work best,” Jaskier mumbles as he uses his knight to take Geralt’s bishop. He continues humming the melody, muttering lyric ideas under his breath, trying to find a good rhythm to the words.

Geralt moves his queen. Jaskier blanches as he realizes he’s been lured into a trap yet again, and knocks over his king.

“You win,” he sighs. “Again.”

He doesn’t miss it when the corners of Geralt’s mouth pull up in self-satisfaction as he starts to reset the board.

“Again, I suppose?” Jaskier asks. Geralt moves his pawn forward. “I assume that’s a ‘yes’,” he mutters.

---

What was supposed to be a once-a-week thing turns into an everyday thing as soon as Jaskier gets his badge from the hospital. Most days he doesn’t even play for the other patients – though he does reserve an hour for them at least twice a week and obliges whenever they ask him for a song – but spends his time in Geralt’s room, chess board in front of him, guitar in his lap.

He doesn’t know what it is about the room, but something there calms his mind down, makes him see things clearer and from a different angle, gives him the quiet and peace and inspiration he needs to finish the songs he’s been working on for years, now, and gives him the spark he needs to write new songs.

He supposes that the ‘something’ might be Geralt himself, but there’s a part of him that fears that if he admits that out loud, even to himself, it will become too serious – that it will become a riptide that will sweep him off his feet and push him under water.

He looks at Geralt, at the man sitting in the sunlight, the white halo around his head making him look ethereal, the bright light highlighting the scars and birthmarks and freckles on his skin – the tiny imperfections Jaskier commits to memory every time he gets the chance to see them. The past few days, Geralt’s begun to lift the sunblind up a little bit, the room suddenly not so dark anymore. It’s probably to see the chess board better, Jaskier supposes.

“So,” he says from the doorway an hour later, his guitar put back into its case and slung onto his back. “See you tomorrow, then?” It’s the same thing he says every day, and just like yesterday and the day before that and the day before that, he doesn’t expect an answer.

Geralt never answers.

He’s halfway out the door when he hears a soft “hmm” behind him.

He looks over his shoulder, golden eyes glancing away when he meets them, and he has to try his very hardest not to cry out his joy for the entire world to hear. Because Geralt just gave him an answer.

He nods once, and heads to the lifts.

---

“Young man.”

He startles slightly when he’s greeted at the doors by a woman in a doctor’s coat, her raven hair falling in waves over her shoulders, her violet eyes drilling into his.

He swallows thickly, fiddling with the strap of his guitar case, nail digging into the leather. “Yes?”

“I’m doctor Vengerberg,” she says, extending her hand for him to shake. He obliges before quickly letting go, wiping his sweaty palm on his jeans. “You’re the man that sings songs, are you not?”

He nods once. “That would be me, yes,” he mumbles, going over everything he’s done in the past week, trying to find what might have sparked her ire.

But her face softens, causing Jaskier to frown in confusion. “And you’re the one who keeps visiting Mr. Rivia, are you not?” He nods again. “What is it that you do in there all the time?” she asks him.

He swallows thickly. “Oh, we just play chess. And I sing to him. We don’t… don’t do anything… inappropriate, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

Her lips curl upwards. “It is not, but thanks for clearing that up anyways-“ she squints at his badge “-Julian. But… is that really all you do in there? Play chess and sing songs?”

“Yes, doctor.”

Her brows knit together slightly. “Huh. Who would’ve thought?” With that, she pushes past him, out of the doors to the ward, leaving him confused in the common room.

He shrugs it away and turns around, heading to Geralt’s room.

The blinds are halfway up, but today there is no sun to illuminate the side of Geralt’s face as Jaskier goes to sit on the other side of the set chessboard. The rain patters against the window, the dim light outside projecting the rivulets onto Geralt’s skin – it’s a sight to behold, and Jaskier finds himself following every drop as its projection slides down Geralt’s cheek.

Amber eyes flicker up to his and Jaskier is shaken out of his reverie, plucking two pawns off the board, switching them a couple of times behind his back before he holds his fists out. Geralt’s gaze never leaves his as he lifts a hand, a single finger tapping Jaskier’s left fist.

He opens it. It’s the black pawn. He hands it to Geralt, before setting his own white pawn where it belongs, turning the board so that the right side is facing him. He waits until Geralt’s set his piece down before he makes the first move.

As Geralt contemplates his, Jaskier picks up his guitar case, taking out the instrument and setting it in his lap.

Geralt moves a pawn. Jaskier moves his knight. He leans back and idly starts plucking a melody, muttering lyrics under his breath. Golden eyes meet his.

“Oh, you don’t mind, do you?” It’s the same question he asks every day. Usually, Geralt will just ignore it and turn back to the game, but this time, as golden eyes flicker down to the chess board, he lets out a soft hum.

“Wh- what?” Jaskier stammers, guitar strings twanging messily as his hand goes limp.

“Hmm,” Geralt hums again as he moves a pawn.

“R- right. Of course, thank you,” Jaskier mumbles, excited blush rising up to his cheeks as he starts plucking the melody again.

---

He startles when he’s greeted by a mop of brown curls and two arms throwing themselves around his neck the second he opens the door to the ward. He laughs in confusion, returning the hug Triss gives him quickly.

“What did I do to deserve that?” he asks her. “Not that I mind, of course, but still…”

She holds him at an arm’s length, smile bright enough to light up the whole room even more than it already is, rivalling the sunshine streaming in through the windows. “Thank you,” she says. “I don’t know what it is that you do in there every day, but please keep doing it.”

“Wh- what are you talking about?”

“Geralt, of course!” she says, as if it’s completely obvious. “I don’t know how you manage, buttercup, but…” She shakes her head, and he doesn’t miss the light sheen over her eyes as she smiles at him. “He slept six hours last night.”

He blinks. “And… that’s not normal?”

She grins, her curls bouncing around her face as she shakes her head. “No, it really is not. Most nights he doesn’t sleep at all, and if he does, well… it’s only for a short while.”

She pulls him closer, rubbing their noses together playfully, just like they’ve always done since they were little kids. It makes him giggle, a wave of nostalgia washing over him.

“Thank you,” she whispers to him. “Whatever it is you do, please don’t stop.”

“Not planning on it. Speaking of, I should probably go now, he’s expecting me.”

“Alright. Oh, are you up for drinks this weekend?”

He nods. “Sure. The Kingfisher?” he asks as he starts walking backwards to the hallway that leads to Geralt’s room.

“Meet me at ten!” Triss half-shouts at him, making a few patients look up in annoyance.

Jaskier gives her a thumbs-up and turns around, practically skipping his way to Geralt’s room.

The blinds are halfway up and Jaskier takes a few moments to look at Geralt as he sits in the sunlight, hands folded in his lap, golden eyes drilling holes into the chess board. Now that Triss has mentioned it, Jaskier does think he notices that Geralt looks a little less tired – the shadows under his eyes aren’t as deep, his shoulders aren’t as slumped, his cheeks even hold a slight dusting of pink, their usual pallidness suddenly lost.

Golden eyes flicker to him, and Geralt lifts his left eyebrow slightly; he’s getting impatient with Jaskier standing in the doorway and staring at him.

Jaskier shakes himself out of his reverie and shrugs his guitar case off his shoulder as he crosses the room, quickly performing their little pick-the-pawn ritual – where Jaskier ends up with white – before he makes the first move, unpacking his guitar as Geralt stares at the board, the heel of his hand under his chin, his fingers resting against his lips.

He sets his instrument in his lap as Geralt makes his first move. Jaskier counteracts it by moving his knight, before he starts plucking at his guitar.

“Are you sure there aren’t any songs you want to hear?” he asks softly, afraid to break the peace and silence in the room by talking too loud.

Geralt moves a pawn. Shakes his head minutely.

Jaskier half-shrugs. “Right, guess I’ll have to pick something.” He sighs. “Don’t feel particularly inspired today, so I don’t think I’m gonna be composing much.”

He moves his bishop. Plucks a few notes. He looks out the window, at the trees in the parking lot and the city park that lies beyond, at the small, green buds on the branches and the crisp green-white of the grass as the night’s frost begins to thaw in the sunshine. He looks at the children playing in the field, at the man throwing a stick for his dog to fetch, at the young couple that sits on the bench, one of them getting up to pick a budding flower from the bushes, handing it to the other.

He imagines what it would be like to sit there in that park, to have the remnants of last night’s cold nip at his fingers and nose, to bask in the sunshine as it warms his back, to pick a flower from the bushes to hand to his lover. His lover, whose hair resembles the frost that coats the grass, whose eyes rival the brightness of the sun, who gives him a crooked grin as he takes the flower without a word-

“How do you feel about ‘La vie en rose’?” Jaskier asks.

Geralt quickly looks up at him before he looks back down at the board. “Hmm.”

He can’t help but smile softly at that, strumming his guitar a few times as he starts to sing. “Hold me close and hold me fast. The magic spell you cast. This is la vie en rose.”

Geralt moves a pawn. Jaskier moves his bishop.

“When you kiss me, heaven sighs, and though I close my eyes, I see la vie en rose.”

The couple outside stands up from the bench, holding hands as they walk through the park, disappearing from Jaskier’s view as they turn a corner.

“When you press me to your heart, I’m in a world apart, a world where roses bloom.”

Golden eyes meet his for half a second, and his breath catches in his lungs, heart beating in his throat painfully. He looks away, Geralt’s gaze too much to bear.

“And when you speak, angels sing from above. Everyday words seem to turn into love songs.”

He wonders what Geralt’s voice sounds like. Sure, he’s already heard him hum out a reply a few times, but it’s never loud enough for Jaskier to get a proper idea of what he might sound like. Maybe one day, he’ll hear Geralt speak. Or maybe he won’t. It doesn’t matter to him – as long as Geralt allows him to stay by his side, Jaskier’s content.

“Give your heart and soul to me, and life will always be la vie en rose.”

He finishes the last few chords of the song, his voice trailing into nothingness. Geralt moves a pawn.

Jaskier clears his throat, setting his guitar against the chair, leaning his forearms on the table. He moves his knight. Geralt moves his queen. Checkmate.

He huffs out a laugh, shaking his head. “Christ, how do you always manage to beat me at this? One day, Geralt, I swear that I’ll win one day.”

The corner of Geralt’s mouth quirks up ever so slightly. He might as well be rolling his eyes at this point.

“Alright, fine, you’re right, I probably won’t. But that won’t stop me from trying.”

He starts moving the chess pieces back into place, Geralt following suit. Jaskier reaches for a black pawn that’s halfway across the board at the same time Geralt reaches for the white one right next to it.

Their hands brush.

Jaskier’s breath catches in his lungs, head spinning as the side of his hand grows hot, even as he jerks it back – as if Geralt’s touch has burned him, has left an everlasting mark on him whose heat Jaskier will feel for years to come, his touch a brand that’ll claim Jaskier for the rest of his life.

He clears his throat and ignores it.

“I, uh…” he says softly. “I won’t be able to be here on Sunday. I’m going out for drinks with Triss on Saturday so I will probably be too hungover to drive. And I can’t be here on Monday, either, since I’ve got a couple of older students who have class in the morning. But I’ll come back on Tuesday, if that’s alright?”

He looks up. Golden eyes drill holes into the chess board as Geralt moves a pawn. He doesn’t hum a response.

Jaskier sighs and turns back to the game.

---

“Thank God you’re here, buttercup.”

He stops right inside the doors to the ward on Tuesday, clutching the strap of his guitar case as Triss hurries towards him, eyes wide and filled with something he’s too scared to identify.

“What’s going on?”

“It’s Geralt.” She grabs him by his arm, dragging him across the common room before he can even think to protest.

“W- wait, what? What’s wrong with Geralt?”

“He’s having an episode. A bad one.”

“An episode- Triss, what are you talking about?”

She sighs, suddenly stopping, pulling him to a halt as well, her hand around his upper arm like a vice. “The past few days, his mental health has been declining. Badly. He hasn’t slept, he’s barely eaten anything, and he just… sits there. Or he paces. It’s really not going well, buttercup.”

He feels something ugly and fearful claw at the inside of his chest. “Triss, I have to ask, what exactly is he having an episode of?”

“He’s got PTSD, buttercup. Hasn’t he told you?”

He shrugs, scratching at the back of his neck. “Well, no. We don’t exactly… talk a lot. But is there anything I can do to help?”

She sighs again. “I don’t know. Maybe. He’s been doing a bit better the past two weeks, ever since you showed up, so I don’t know what you do when you’re around him, but maybe it’ll help today as well. As long as he can get some sleep, buttercup – he really needs to sleep, he can’t go on like this much longer.”

He nods once. “Right. I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thank you,” she says softly, pulling him into a quick hug before letting go. “Press the alarm button if anything happens.”

He snorts incredulously. “Like what?”

She levels him with a look, her eyes flat and tired. “There’s a reason why he’s here, buttercup.”

The words settle in his stomach like stones – even though he has a hard time deciphering what exactly she meant by them – but he nods again, turning around and setting off to Geralt’s room, his heartbeat thudding in his ears.

The blinds are pulled down completely and he has to stand in the doorway for a while to let his eyes get adjusted to the darkness, slowly blinking as he starts to distinguish shapes and silhouettes.

Unlike all the other times Jaskier’s been in this room, Geralt’s not sitting at the table by the window, looking at the chess board. No, this time he’s sitting at the foot of his bed, hands resting loosely in his lap, eyes wide and unseeing as they stare at the wall in front of him – glassy and flat yet full of something Jaskier can’t bring himself to recognize.

Geralt’s hands ball into tight fists, blunt fingernails undoubtedly pressing crescent-shaped bruises into his palms, before they let go, uncurling until they’re relaxed again. And then it repeats. And repeats. And repeats.

Like waves rhythmically lapping at the shores, Geralt’s hands curl and uncurl, tighten and loosen, tense and relax. Over and over again, as his eyes never leave the wall in front of him, as his face remains perfectly still – but not still in the same way as it was when Jaskier first met him. Geralt’s face is not a perfectly sculpted mask he put on himself, not carefully blank and even as to hide any emotional response he’s having at that moment.

No, the best way Jaskier can describe Geralt’s face right now is slack. As if he’s not even aware he has a face to control, as if he’s far, far away from his own body, reliving things that are already in the distant past. As if there is no emotional response to hide.

He sets his guitar against the wall gently, kneeling by the foot of the bed, bringing his hands up to ghost over Geralt’s face – he can’t touch, he can’t. Geralt hasn’t said he’s allowed yet and Jaskier’s afraid he’ll never be able to let go if he does.

“Geralt?” he says softly. “Geralt, it’s me. Jaskier.” Golden eyes stare at the wall blankly, looking right over his head as if he’s not there at all. It’s exactly like the first time he met Geralt, except now it feels worse, because it doesn’t feel like Geralt’s doing this on purpose. It feels like he really doesn’t realize that Jaskier’s there.

“Geralt? Can you hear me?”

His hands curl into fists. Unfurl. Curl again.

He gets up slowly, walking over to the chess board and snatching two pieces from it, switching them behind his back before he goes to stand in front of Geralt, fists outstretched.

“Choose,” he says, ignoring the way his voice wobbles slightly.

Golden eyes stare right through him, unmoving, unseeing.

“Choose.”

Hands curl into fists. Unfurl. Curl again.

Jaskier puts the pieces back where they belong, opting to unpack his guitar instead. If he can’t coax Geralt back into his body with chess, he’ll annoy him into coming back.

He leans against the wall, a little bit to the left of Geralt, where the golden eyes don’t look right through him, but from where he still has a good view of Geralt and his blank expression. And he starts playing.

He plays everything that comes to mind, from half-finished songs to old lullabies to pop hits from the eighties. If it drifts into his head, it drifts into the room. He plays, and plays, and plays, until his fingers are aching and painful, until the callouses on his skin start wearing away, until his voice becomes raw and his throat dry.

He plays, as seconds turn to minutes turn to hours. It slowly grows darker outside, bit by bit, and he takes a five-minute break to drink some water for his parched throat and to lift the blinds. It’s raining. Big, heavy buckets of it pouring from the skies, fat droplets pitter-pattering against the glass.

Jaskier moves back to stand against the wall. He starts playing again.

And bit by agonizing bit, ever so slowly, almost imperceptibly, Geralt’s face turns from slack and empty to something entirely different, something Jaskier’s never seen before. He looks… peaceful. Calm. Content.

Golden eyes slip closed.

Jaskier keeps on playing. He remembers the park outside the window, remembers the couple and the flower one of them picked for the other, remembers the children playing and the man throwing the stick for his dog.

“I see trees of green,” he sings softly, smiling to himself as he remembers the song he used  to hear on his nan’s old radio, back when he was a kid. “Red roses, too.”

He looks up to cast a glance at Geralt. He’s still sitting at the foot of his bed, hands limp in his lap – but they don’t curl and uncurl anymore. They just lay there, calm and peaceful like the rest of him.

“I see them bloom for me and you.” He grins, looking down at his guitar as he strums the chords. “And I think to myself: what a wonderful world.”

There’s a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye, and before he can lift his eyes to look at it, his head hits the wall painfully, dizzying him, making him drop his guitar – which lands with a loud and dissonant twang – and he’s sure he would’ve fallen over if something wasn’t holding up.

Something is holding him up.

He blinks the fog out of his eyes, Geralt’s face growing into focus. Golden eyes – angry golden eyes boring into his, intense in a way Jaskier’s never seen on anyone before. The word feral shoots through his head at the snarl that bears Geralt’s fangs, at the quiet growl being pushed from the back of his throat.

Throat. Jaskier’s throat hurts.

There are two hands around it, blinding pressure pushing him against the wall – the thing, the thing holding him up.

And suddenly everything snaps into focus.

He gasps for breath, trying and failing to get air into his lungs as Geralt’s hands squeeze his throat shut, furious eyes glaring at him as Jaskier’s hands come up to pull at Geralt’s wrists, feet kicking uselessly against the wall.

“G-“ He gasps, wheezes as he tastes blood at the back of his tongue, heartbeat pounding in his ears. “Geralt-“

The golden eyes don’t recognize him.

“P- please, Geralt-“

He gasps and pants and coughs, a useless sob wracking through his useless chest, dark spots dancing across his vision, obscuring all but golden eyes as oxygen runs out. His hands abandon their attempts at pulling that merciless grip away from his throat and slap against the wall.

His fingertip hits something plastic, jutting out of the drywall. The emergency button.

He stretches his arm as far as he can, muscles aching and joints creaking in protest as his fingertips graze uselessly against the button and he’s running out of air and it won’t be long until his lifeless body hangs limply in Geralt’s hands and all he can see is angry, golden, unseeing eyes and the button the button the button the button the button.

He stretches his fingers as far as he can. He smashes the emergency button.

Nothing happens.

He cries out his frustration, though it’s nothing more than a pathetic, little whimper by now, and he smashes the button again. And again. And again. And again.

His head grows fuzzy. His heartbeat thumps in his ears. He can’t feel his fingers anymore. All he sees is golden eyes.

Shouting.

Screaming and shouting and someone is calling for help. Geralt’s hands jostle him around like a cantankerous child with a ragdoll as people try to pull his arms away from Jaskier.

Golden eyes. Golden eyes and Jaskier goes limp, hands hanging by his side uselessly as Geralt’s merciless hands around his throat hurtle him towards death with each passing second.

A needle glints in the light shining in from the hallway.

Geralt’s hands grow looser, bit by bit, and Jaskier desperately gulps in every bit of air his abused throat allows him to. He sobs. He can sob. The fact that he can makes him cry more loudly, face contorting as he grimaces, tears streaming down his burning cheeks. Parts of his world come into view again.

Golden eyes. Confused, golden eyes as eyebrows knit together slightly. Golden eyes, holding a glimpse of recognition.

Golden eyes, rolling into the back of Geralt’s head.

Geralt drops. Jaskier drops with him. Several panicked voices fill the room and there are hands on his body, turning him around, feeling his neck, his pulse and he lets them.

He closes his eyes as consciousness slips from his grasp.

[themillsdaughter]

Okay, so I have thoughts on the bensler reunion and feel like if I don’t write it somewhere, it’ll just become one of those subjects one ruminates over for the rest of their lives until they become bitter and old and shake their fist in silent rage.

Twitter is filled with people who haven’t watched it yet, hence me posting about this here after years of being inactive in this fandom. if anyone’s interested, I’d love to chat about this too, but in case it isn’t clear by now, major spoilers and unhappy ranting ahead.

Alright, first off, I feel like I should put a few disclaimers from the get-go: one, i have not watched the Organized Crime episode past the letter part bc who even has the energy, two, despite everything I say here, I do genuinely love the characters, and three, I was never, ever, ever fully on board with Stabler coming back. I thought it was a stupid idea since I first found out about it.

I mean, come on. It’s literally been ten years. Ten freaking years without any contact (do not get me started on that semper fidelis thing) and NOW they wanna bring him back? Now that Olivia is settled as the captain, now that she has moved on with her life and is finally as happy as she can? Are you kidding me? And not only that, I had a feeling the show wouldn’t handle all the emotional bagage as it should. SVU is one of my favorite shows, I’ve quite literally watched it for half of my life (even before I was even fluent in English). I love this show with a ferocity I can’t quite put into words, but it has, without a shadow of a doubt, been losing it’s power for at least a couple of seasons now, if not more.

As I said, I haven’t been participating in the fandom for some years, so I can’t speak as to why it’s been going a bit downhill, though I do have a suspicion that it has something to do with the fact that it’s been going on for, hahah, literally over two decades.

But anyways, that’s beside the point. What I’m trying to say here is that I thought it was stupid to bring Elliot back. The show doesn’t need him. It might need the drama, but absolutely not him.

Either way, since what I think has no actual implication in the serious world of tv dramas, it was happening anyway and the thirteen-year-old bensler shipper in me could not help herself. I had to watch it.

I expected to be angry, I expected Olivia to go against her better judgement at least once because he asked pretty please. I expected them to share at least one kiss.

Only one of those expectations wasn't met (to my delight).

Two minutes into the episode, I was already yelling at the TV because I swore she was going to hug him when she first saw him. Thankfully, that didn’t happen, but the eye contact was already too much.

But nothing, and I mean nothing, could have prepared me for Kathy’s part in this episode. She was hurt. Someone tried to kill her. Uh-uh.

Thinking from a creative point of view, it does make sense. She’s been his wife for god knows how many years now, he’s involved with some pretty big crimes, someone wanted to kill him, she was colateral. Beautiful, classic, awesome.

What does not make sense is how the episode was set up. WHY should we feel this anguish, this great sadness over Kathy? Sure, we’ve known about her for as long as Elliot was on the show, that is, since the very beginning. But, and I’m sorry to repeat this again, IT HAS BEEN TEN YEARS. The viewers attachment to Kathy is a very very thin thread.

And yes, I do understand that the point was to focus on Elliot’s loss, on his pain, his fear of losing his wife, the mother of his children. However, that wasn’t even properly done, either. Were they in love again? He said they were happy, but how so? Where were they at in their love story? Were they a family again, were they facing problems? Were they distant, but still married? The show didn’t answer any of that, so, when she passes (which, to be honest, was predictable), that’s that. She’s dead. Elliot cries, Liv’s in shock. Okay.

Granted, it was the very first episode of his return, I cannot speak over what will be revealed in later episodes of either shows, but I personally feel that we weren’t given enough to feel. It was all based on the expectation that we would remember everything that happened and that we would still have the same attachment to everything.

And now we get to the duo of the hour: Olivia still-in-love-with-the-same-man-who-abandoned-her-a-decade-later Bensler and Elliot agressive-man-but-with-a-tinsy-bit-of-more-control Stabler.

Here I do admit that part of my frustration is my own fault. I wished, prayed, hoped and desperately wanted Liv to get angry. To give him some sort of verbal smack-down for what he did. Yes, it makes perfect sense for her to just shut it out as best she can. It’s Liv we’re talking about, so that’s very in character for her, but it still didn’t give me the satisfaction I feel we deserved to see her tell him to go to hell. (Furthermore, I think it would have been a fantastic way to showcase how much she’s grown without him. Yes, she used to be soft with him, but now she’s assertive, she wants more for herself, she knows she deserved more than what he did).

The tears, the apology, the hug in the hospital.... it was all....fine. It was fine. It was them. It just lacked something more. It lacked some sort of spark.

Don’t get me wrong, I wanted to love their reunion despite myself. I wanted to be wrong and watch a beautifully executed, messy, sweet reunion of the ship which literally made me join fandom life, learn about fanfiction and learn English. I wanted that more than anything, but I didn’t expect it.

What I expected was exactly what I got. I smelled that scene of Elliot begging her to let him in the interrogation room, giving her those Puss In Boots eyes and Olivia just folding from the minute they announced his return. And it made me angry, because the whole message they’ve been sending us through all these seasons, of Liv growing into the main character, into someone who wasn’t El’s partner anymore, into a f***ing Captain was backpaddled real quick.

And yeah, there is something to be said about the effect he will always have on her, no matter how many years. But is that really what she, as a character, deserves? Is that even healthy?

I probably have more thoughts, but this is far, far too long already.

In general, the episode was fine. It wasn’t awful. it was also not great. Do I wanna watch the rest? No. Will I? Probably.

Oh, and just before I go: WHAT THE F*** WAS UP WITH FIN???? HELPING HIM OUT??? TELLING ELLIOT UNSOLICITED INFORMATION ABOUT LIV’S LIFE??? ABOUT HER LOVE LIFE??? Yeah, sure, he was a bensler shipper, whatever, but excuse me??? You’ve actively participated in her life for twenty years and think it’s healthy to try and make her patch up with a man who just, in her own words, DISAPPEARED?

Love the dude, wanted Olivia to yell at him too.

Anyways, if anyone made it this far and feels like talking about it, I am absolutely open to that.

[skzsauce01]

42nd Moon Pt 12 (end)

Description: By some stroke of luck, you get off the waitlist of your biology class. You’d never have guessed you’d find your soulmate there, let alone that he already has a girlfriend… Or that he comes from a fraternity of werewolves.

Warning: mentions of death/killing

Word count: 2.2k

Pairing: werewolf!Hyunjin x fem!reader,  werewolf!Jisung x fem!reader

Chapter List

You’ve been to every country on your list, quit your job, and tried every activity you’ve dreamed of. Now there is just one thing left to do.

I, L/N Y/N, being of sound and disposing mind, hereby declare the following:

A knock sounds at the door. It’s Jisung.

“Hungry?” he asks. “They’re ready outside.”

I have no children and declare no spouse. I appoint Bang Christopher Chan as personal representative of my will.

You tuck the paper you are looking at into an envelope while answering him. “Yeah, I’ll be there in a minute.”

You hear him walk down the hall and knock on another door.

“Hyunjin?” he calls. “You coming?”

The sound of your chair scraping against the floor drowns out his response. You straighten out the envelope on your desk and make your way out of your room.

“Want a drink?” Minho offers as soon as you step into the fraternity house’s kitchen. Well, Chan’s kitchen as of half a year ago.

You decline, and the male shrugs and downs the contents himself. You watch him walk away with a small smile on your lips.

To Lee Minho, I bequeath $2000 to his Cat Rescue Foundation. May this monetary effort touch the lives of misfortunate kittens just like he has touched them with his heart of gold.

“How’s it going?” greets Changbin with a chin tilt. This party is intended to celebrate the man’s recent hire at some office job, but you all know the true reason behind it.

“Good,” you reply.

“Awesome,” he nods. “Enjoy yourself. I’ll be creaming Felix at some video games in the living room if you need me.”

“Hey!” objects the Australian. “We’ll see about that!” He flashes a grin in your direction as a greeting before racing after the other male.

You can’t help but laugh at their antics.

To Seo Changbin, I leave him however much it takes to repair his synthesizer and purchase a microphone set in hopes that he continues pursuing his musical hobbies.

For Lee Felix, I have purchased the newest gaming console so that he might always have something to bother Changbin with. I leave an additional $500 for him to one day adopt a dog from the shelter cafe he frequents.

“Fried or seasoned?” you hear a voice call out to you from the kitchen island.

You turn towards that direction to see Seungmin indicating at a few buckets of chicken. Despite his question, he’s already putting food onto your plate. 

“Half-half,” you answer. “Thanks!”

He nods and hands you exactly what you ask for.

To Kim Seungmin, I transfer all ownership of my stocks. As a man of great intelligence and even greater ambitions, there is not a doubt in my mind that he will take these shares and multiply their values beyond their monetary ones.

“Fried please!” yells Jeongin as he runs up to you so quickly, you nearly drop your plate.

He looks up to you with a cheeky grin while holding you in a side hug before making his way to Seungmin for food.

To Yang Jeongin, I grant $1125, the amount required to apply to all the post grad programs he is interested in, even the one he gave up on despite it being his dream school.

“Enjoying yourself?” 

You nod in response to the leader’s question. “It’s quieter than your college frat parties.”

Chan laughs. “Guess we all got old. Wanna sit?”

You nod again and follow him to the living room where most of the boys have gathered.

To Bang Chan, I bequeath all benefits of my insurance and whatever is left in my accounts. I trust him to use this disproportionately larger sum to benefit the future of his Mu Alpha Theta boys. I trust that he’ll always be by their sides, nourishing them like he has done up until now. I also trust that he will take a generous portion for himself, so that I may attempt to thank him for the stellar leader and friend he has been to me.

“So who’s winning?” you ask.

“Me,” Changbin answers. Felix’s laugh tells you to believe otherwise.

“Who cares? They both suck,” Seungmin scoffs, taking a controller for himself as he plops down next to you.

You look fondly upon the group of boys. Never in your life had you imagined meeting a whole fraternity of werewolves, but you are so glad you did. You look at your wrist; it’s almost the same colour as the rest of your arm now. You try to imagine what life would be like if you were any other office lady, unaware of the Mu Alpha Theta wolves and soulmateless. You could be downtown, enjoying a candle-lit dinner with a boyfriend or jamming to karaoke with some co-workers and not dying. 

Yet you can’t.

You can’t imagine being anywhere else right now than in this room with your eardrums being blasted out by game jargon and having to be hyper aware of your surroundings because fried chicken can still fly across the room when it’s in the hands of twenty-some year old boys. You can’t imagine not having got off the waitlist of your biology class and not having met Jisung or your soulmate. 

On the topic of Hyunjin, you frown realizing that he isn’t here. He usually stays at a friend’s with his daughter during events like these where the other boys are drinking-- it is actually a habit you initiated-- but you were still hoping he would come tonight. After all, it is the last time you would see each other. 

After chicken and games, Chan announces that he has bought cake. Before you can even recognize it as your favourite flavour, Jeongin has already smeared cream onto your face, and thus a war begins with the most popular target being you. By some miracle, you end up with a proper slice in your hands after all the commotion, but by then, the boys have quieted down significantly, having been worn down by earlier activities or passed out from alcohol. 

“Hey.”

You turn around while swallowing your last bite to see Jisung again.

“Wanna get some fresh air?”

“Sure,” you reply.

He hands you a napkin and chuckles, “You might want some water to help you out. I’ll meet you outside when you’re ready.”

You take his suggestion and clean yourself up in the restroom. You giggle when you take in the damage the wolves have inflicted, but you don’t dwell on your reflection for long as to not keep Jisung waiting.

With your hand on the front door knob, you pause and take one last look at the house. Several boys lay asleep in front of a staticky television. The only one awake, Chan, looks up from his phone to shoot you a wink before looking back down, trying to keep things as normal as possible. 

You look to your left for Hyunjin’s room. You wonder if he’s still awake and how he is doing since his soulmate is dying and all. You hope he will not miss you too much; at least he has Jisung again. Speaking of Jisung, you push open the door to meet him. He turns around with a smile to greet you as you descend the front steps.

To Hwang Hyunjin, I would like to give my sincerest apologies for making him go through the pains of being left alone once more. I know this will not compensate for his loss, but I leave for him my jewelry and gold. I pray that these gifts will ease the hardships of being a single father. Know that I leave more than just these earthly possessions; I also leave with you my heart and spirit. I am always with you and your daughter through every up and every down.

“Wanna go somewhere?” Jisung asks you when you join him on the pavement.

You shrug. “I’ve already been everywhere I want to. Do you have any ideas?”

“Actually, I do. Hop on.”

You wrap your arms around the neck of your personal werewolf taxi, and he takes off. The night wind blows through your hair, and although the moon is shy tonight, the city lights in the distance are enough to fill your heart. You hand brushes over the wolf’s fur, thanking him for the experience.

And to Han Jisung, the dearest and greatest blessing of my life, I know you wouldn’t want anything of monetary value from me, so I have left for you a memory box. In it, you will find my life: diaries I’ve written as an angsty teen, CDs of my favourite songs, my lucky charm socks that I save only for test days, my perfume, and more. 

“Jolly Land?” you shout over the wind as Jisung easily hops over the gates. You are surprised at his choice, but not as surprised as when he starts climbing the twenty story ferris wheel, one carriage at the time until you have reached the top.

Oh, and please take care of Jolly Quokka. You are the reason why I have him, and he is one of my favourite memories I have with you. Please don’t cry too much, Jisung. Jolly will be watching over you for me to make sure you don’t!

“This is so illegal!” you laugh.

“Don’t worry, the werewolf council will cover up our tracks,” Jisung says while draping his jacket around you for the last time. “How are we supposed to explain the sudden death of a healthy young woman if she dies in the middle of a police interrogation?”

You are glad Jolly Land keeps some of its lights on after hours so that you can look around the park. You see a familiar stage and point towards it. “Look! That’s where we won the couple contest.”

Jisung leans over to take a gander before pointing at another spot. “And that’s where we got the headbands, and that’s the ride you forced me to go on.”

“And that’s where we had to sit for fifteen minutes afterwards because your legs were wobbling too much.”

“Hey!”

You both laugh at the memories. “I’ll miss coming here. This was a great idea; thanks for taking me tonight, Jisung.”

“No problem,” he hums.

“Which reminds me. Aren’t you afraid of heights? You couldn’t even take that roller coaster; how did you manage to climb up here?”

He shrugs nonchalantly. “Some things are worth being afraid over.”

You chuckle at his sweet words. “Things would have been simpler if I were your soulmate… Ah, sorry, that is insensitive for me to say,” you apologize.

“It’s fine. It’s the truth.”

“Still,” you frown.

He reaches over and gives you a reassuring pat. “Did you have a good life, Y/N?”

“I would say so, yeah.”

“I’m glad.” He pulls you closer, and you lean into your best friend and close your eyes. You can feel your clock ticking. You know Hyunjin can feel it too.

Ten.

Inside one of the rooms in the frat house paces a brown wolf as his child lays sleeping in her bed. Unlike what you had assumed, he has not left his room since you said your unofficial farewells this morning. Since then, only one question has dominated his thoughts: can he do it? 

A sharp pain in his wrist reminds him of the limited time he has left.

Nine.

Jisung takes your cold hands in his, making sure you feel warm until the end. You shift in your seat to get a little more comfortable.

Eight.

A tear drips from his eye as he walks over to his daughter. The memory of you sitting beside him, stroking his back after his ex left replays itself in his mind. Then comes the memory of you waiting patiently for him outside the custody court. Then the memory of you holding his hand in the ER when his child’s fever spiked at three in the morning. Then the memory of you laughing with him when he drenched you both in water while trying to fill up a kiddie pool.

Seven.

You begin humming a nursery song, one that you often sing during the child’s bedtime. Jisung drums along with his fingers against your hand.

Six.

And then the memory of your arms around him in the forest. He was so close to losing you. So close to never holding you against him like that again. Hyunjin snuggles his daughter’s head upwards so that her neck lies between his two canines.  

You will hate him for this. You will absolutely hate him for this, but Hyunjin has been giving you reasons to hate him since the day you met. It’ll be alright if you finally did.

Five.

Your fingers curl themselves into your palm as a sudden fear of what is on the other side creeps up your spine. Jisung moves to loosen the tension by interlacing his digits with yours.

Four.

Another teardrop lands on his daughter and wakes her up. She blinks a few times. “Daddy?”

That one single word pierces his heart.

Time is ticking.

Three.

“Jisung?” you whisper, lifting your chin slightly more towards him.

“Hm?”

“Thank you.”

Two.

But then there’s you, and he loves you. He loves you so much. There is no denying now. You are his soulmate, his heartbeat, his existence...

... And just a bite away. 

One.

Dear readers! Thanks for making it this far and coming on this 42nd Moon journey with me! All your notes, comments, and asks really touched my heart. I used to think creators on this site were so dramatic with their thanks to their followers until I found out that THAT’S ACTUALLY HOW WE REACT. So thank you all so, so, so much! I hope to see y’all around here again! (maybe for another 42 moons? Hahaha). PS: Please send in asks if u have any! We’ll be replying with badly drawn pics :P ~ ad.gold SPECIAL THANKS TO AD.GRAY WHO LET ME PESTER HER DURING THIS WHOLE PROCESS! And for editing, but tbh I think my annoying-ness is worse. kekeke

[imaginewithmgk]

Last night I had a dream that kells and I were on the gq couple thingy & it was fucking hilarious. I think he’d be a fun time on there. Is there any way I could request you do an imagine like that?? Please ! 🙏😇

GQ COUPLE’S QUIZ

request fourteen

summary: colson and his gf y/n do the gq couples quiz together

word count: 1,877

warnings: mention of nipsey hussle’s death

3rd person’s P.O.V.

Y/N sat down in the chair while her boyfriend sat beside her in a different chair.

“You ready?” He asks her and grabs her hand, knowing that she gets nervous when someone is filming her. Although she gets nervous, she knows that this kind of stuff comes with dating a celebrity. 

“Yeah, are you okay with doing this?” She asks Colson, knowing that he was upset earlier today because Nipsey did this interview with Lauren before he passed. The death had hit him really hard but doing this was a way to honour Nip’s legacy, as their GQ interview was really popular. 

“Yeah baby, let’s do this!” He smiles. 

“Okay guys, you know the drill. Y/N will ask Colson the questions off her cue cards and we will keep track of the points. We begin rolling in 3, 2, 1…”

“Hey everyone. I’m Y/N Y/L/N and I’m here with my boyfriend, Colson Baker a.k.a Machine Gun Kelly. This is the GQ Couples Quiz, hopefully, y’all know how it works. Are you ready baby?”

“Yeah let’s do it,” Colson smiles at her. 

“Alright, what was the first meal I ever cooked for you?” Y/N grins at him.

“God that was a long time ago,” He chuckles. “Are we talking when we were friends or when we started dating?”

“Hmm.. let’s go with friends to make it harder for you,” 

“Was it… cereal or something?”

“Babe!”

“What!?” 

“It was grilled cheese! When you were hungover and came to my place,” She playfully hits his shoulder. 

“Oh yeah! I knew that so I should still get the point,”

“No, you didn’t!” They laugh together.

“I’m going to be so bad at this,” He puts his head in his hand and laughs.

“Confidence is key,”

“Yeah baby I know,” They smile at each other. 

“Okay… how many tattoos do I have?” Colson looks up and furrows his eyebrows. 

“Let me imagine your body hold on,” He points his finger in the air as if to count. “1, 2, 3, 4, 5…”

“Come on,” Y/N encourages him.

“11?”

“Correct!” Y/N high fives him. “Bonus point if you can name them,”

“I don’t know about that,” Colson teases. Y/N playfully shakes her head at him.

“What’s my favourite colour?”

“Easy, green.” Colson pauses. “Or the colour of my eyes,” He winks.

“Correct, good job. Two points so far,”

“What was my first job ever?” 

“Fuck, it was at a fast-food joint right?” 

“Yes! Three points,”

“I’m smashing this!” Colson pumps his fist in the air. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Y/N giggles. 

“If I could only eat one thing for the rest of my life, what would it be?” Y/N nervously shuffles the cue cards.

“I don’t know if I can say that one on camera baby,” He laughs. 

“Kells!” She swats him with the cue cards and laughs. 

“Nah, Nah. Pasta right?” 

“Nice save. Correct,” 

“Alright, what’s something on my bucket list?” 

“Ummm… go to the Olympics? Like attend it, not be in it!” 

“Yes actually, I’m surprised you know that one.”

“You gotta give me more credit, I listen…” He pauses. “Sometimes,” Colson joking around is noticeably making her feel more comfortable. 

“How do you know when I’m mad at you?”

“How am I supposed to answer this without making you mad?” Colson teases. “You ignore me, gimme the cold shoulder,”

“I mean you’re not wrong…” She admits. “What colour are my eyes?” Y/N shuts her eyes quickly. 

“Damn, now I can’t cheat. They’re green yeah?”

“No! They’re brown!” She says as she opens her eyes.

“With little green bits in them!”

“Babe! They do but they’re mostly brown. I reckon that one’s wrong.”

“Not fair,” Colson jokingly pouts. 

“Let’s move on. What’s my favourite “pump up” song?”

“Till I Die by yours truly,” Colson grins. “Obviously. How many points am I on now?”

“7 I think?”

“Out of how many questions?”

“9?”

“Alright, I’m doing okay so far,” 

“What’s my favourite movie?”

“Notting Hill!” Colson answers quickly.

“Wow, I’m impressed.”

“Yeah well, you make me watch it at least three times a week,” 

“True,” She giggles. 

“How long does it take to my makeup?”

“Well, it depends on the look, pretty much between 5 hours to 3 years!” Colson jokes.

“Hey! It does not take me that long. It takes me life half an hour to an hour!”

“Yeah well for me it feels like a lot longer than that,” He laughs. 

“What’s my favourite fast food and what do I like to order?” 

“Oh, easy, your favourite place is KFC and you like to order a double tender meal! That’s an Australian specific burger for all you uncultured swine,” He jokes. 

“Correct!” Y/N laughs. “Who influenced me when I was growing up? Music-wise,” Y/N asks cheekily. Colson rolls his eyes. 

“Eminem,” He mumbles. 

“What was that?” Y/N giggles.

“Eminem!” He speaks a bit louder which makes Y/N burst into laughter. God knows if these two will have any laughter left in their body after this interview is finished. 

“Correct again. You’re rocking this baby,” 

“What am I on now?”

“Like ten I think?”

“Sick!”

“Describe me in three words,” 

“Gotta make this appropriate. Let’s go with sexy, funny, no actually! Hilarious! And kind,”

“Awe thanks, Kells!” 

“What am I most comfortable sleeping in?��

“Nothing,” Colson winks at the camera. 

“Oh my god,” Y/N puts her face in her hand. “Let’s move on.”

“Wait wait wait is that correct?” He smirks.

“Yes! Now, what am I most scared of?”

“Small spaces right? You’re claustrophobic or whatever they call it,”

“Yes and no. I am scared of small spaces but it’s not what I’m most scared of,”

“What is it then?”

“I’m most scared of losing you,” Y/N blushes.

“Awe babe! I love you,” Colson kisses her cheek. 

“I love you too,” She smiles. “What’s my Starbucks order?”

“Either cold brew or a green tea frap with whipped cream,”

“Correct! I think that’s 13 now?”

“Yay!”

“Who’s my favourite actor/actress?”

“Obviously me, or Hugh Grant,”

“Another one correct!”

“Where was I born?”

“Easy, Australia!”

“Do you know where in Australia?”

“Melbourne?”

“Yep! I knew that you knew that, I just love hearing you say Melbourne in your accent,” Y/N admits, to which Colson laughs. 

“Who is my celebrity crush?”

“Is that even a question? It’s obviously me,”

“Yes… obviously…” Y/N says in an uncertain voice.

“Is there something you’re not telling me?” Colson furrows his eyebrows. 

“Nope!” Y/N laughs. “Moving on… what is my favourite nickname to call you?”

“Daddy,” Colson winks at the camera.

“Colson!” Y/N raises her voice, clearly embarrassed. 

“Or Kells,” 

“That’s better,” They laugh together. “Who is Casie’s favourite? If you don’t know, Casie is Colson’s beautiful daughter,”

“Um me of course,”

“No, me!”

“Hey! I’m better with her!”

“No, she loves me more,”

“No, she loves ME more! I’m her dad!” Colson whines. 

“There’s only one way to settle this,” Y/N grins and grabs her phone out of her jacket pocket. She clicks on Casie’s facetime contact and moves the phone to show only her face.

“Hey Y/N!” Casie answers.

“Hey baby girl, I have a question for you.”

“What’s up?”

“I wanna know who’s your favourite, me or your dad?”

“Is dad with you?”

“No…” Y/N chuckles.

“Okay don’t tell him but you’re my favourite!”

“Hey!” Colson yells. 

“Y/N you said he wasn’t with you!” Casie pouts.

“Sorry hun, we’re doing a video and he thought that he was your favourite,”

“You’re both my favourite!”

“You can’t go back on your word now,” Y/N jokes. “I gotta go now but I’ll see you soon!”

“Okay love you both!”

“Love you too!” Colson and Y/N say at the same time before Casie hangs up. 

“Told you I’m her favourite,” Y/N winks as Colson sits in his chair sulking.

“What’s my favourite tv show?”

“Depends on your mood. I know your top three are Law & Order SVU, Supernatural and Big Mouth,”

“Good one baby!”

“I only know that because you also make me watch those with you,”

“Shh you’re on 18 now I think,”

“Out of?”

“23 I believe,”

“Hmm, that’s okay,”

“Where did we first meet and what did I think of you?”

“We met at one of my shows and you thought I was an asshole,” Colson chuckles.

“I did think you were asshole but really hot,” Y/N admits.

“Great,” Colson laughs. 

“What’s my favourite ice cream flavour?”

“Mint choc chip!”

“No, it’s cookies and cream. You know better,” Y/N jokes. 

“Oops,”

“Okay, what’s my zodiac sign?”

“Oh! Virgo! And I’m a Taurus! I only know this because Y/N is trying to educate me on all of the signs,” He laughs. 

“Yes I am, he’s doing very well so far. Clearly,”

“I try,” He swats his imaginary hair behind his shoulder making everyone in the studio laugh. 

“What’s my favourite part of my body?”

“Coincidently, it is also my favourite part of your body. Your butt!”

“Yes,” Y/N says in between chuckles. 

“What’s my favourite song of yours?”

“That’s hard because you have so many!” Colson laughs.

“It’s true… how about name one off each of your albums?”

“Alright, I’ll just do the mainstream ones. Lace Up, your favourite is Wild Boy or See My Tears. General Admission, your favourite is Bad Motherfucker or Merry Go Round or Till I die! Honestly most of the songs off that album. Bloom, Let You Go or 27 or Wake + Bake cause you said my voice sounds really hot in that,”

“Don’t at me like that!” She laughs. “But it’s true,” She winks at the camera. 

“I know BINGE is an EP but still, your favourite is NYLON. Hotel Diablo, it’s Glass House or 5:3666 or el Diablo. And off Tickets to my Downfall, well that’s a secret.”

“Wow, you got all of them right! I really love Baddest and Lead You On too by the way! Highly recommend checking out all of those songs,”

“I’m glad you like my songs baby,”

“Of course. Now, what’s my favourite thing about you?”

“Physically, one thing we can’t mention on camera,” He winks. “Or my tattoos. Y/N has a really bad habit of tracing them like 24/7,”

“I can’t help it! They’re all so interesting. I think I’ve bugged him about telling me the meaning of every single one,” 

“True that. I reckon emotionally though, your favourite thing is how much I care about everyone,”

“Oh yeah for sure. Onto the last question, you ready babe?”

“Yep,”

“What’s the biggest scar on my body?”

“I don’t know babe! The one on your leg?”

“Yes actually,”

“Aye there we go!”

“Well, that was my last question, thanks for playing baby and thank you for watching!”

“What was my score?”

“24 out of 30 I think,”

“Oh,” Colson looks down at his feet. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy with that but that’s the score Nip got when he did this with Lauren. Shout out to those two, rest in peace. Neighbourhood Nip forever!”

“Love you,”

“Love you too baby girl,”

-

I did not check over this so sorry for mistakes lmao

tagged: @2dead2function @s-j-g-x @bakerkells @mayaslifeinabox @onlybadthingz @PumpkinQueenest19 @mrsambroserollinsacklesmgk @Feeding-into-darkness @xxkellsvixen19xx @lovemythsworld @xwhitewalkerx @deanwinchesterswife121 @jindongdongie​ @itjustkindahappenedreally​ @machine-gun-colson​

link to be tagged in future posts

[roguesandsaviors]

What Are We?

Fandom: Marvel

Characters: Tony Stark, Reader

Pairing: Tony Stark x Female Reader

Summary: You never expected to see a one night stand at the front of the lecture hall, ready to teach a class you needed for your degree. What followed was even less expected. 

Word Count: 5,026

Rating: SFW

Warning: Alcohol mentions, one night stands

Author’s Note: This is for Meg’s 11K Follower challenge. Thanks to @thranduilsperkybutt for hosting it. The prompts were Au and trope based, which was an absolute blast. This is the second of a few fics I signed up for. I am always a sucker for the idea of Tony as something other than Iron-Man. College Professor would suit him. He has it in him to teach and he definitely enjoys nurturing young souls. Anyone who doesn’t think that can fight me. The secret relationship trope felt natural to go with the college professor AU and while it isn’t full fledged, the beginnings of it are explored here. I haven’t done a lot of reader insert fics because I find I often struggle with them. So I hope this came out okay.  I am terribly sorry that it is late after you were so generous in giving us a load of time. Not Beta-ed so all mistakes are my own.

************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************

You never expected to see his face again. It had been the chance of a lifetime when you were presented with tickets to the convention. It meant mingling and networking but most important, it meant being able to talk shop with others that were on your level. If you were lucky, maybe even with some of the most brilliant minds in the country. What you hadn’t anticipated but never regretted was the one night stand that came with it. Of course you had recognized the name as soon as you got there. He was giving several talks throughout the convention and they were the most highly anticipated events of the entire get together. People were lining up hours in advance to make sure that they got seats and when they were gone, a certain amount of people were allowed standing room.

You were lucky enough to get into one of them. It was only happenstance that you ran into the man afterwards and were granted permission to pick his brain. Which of course you did, soaking in every bit of knowledge that he was willing to part with. What you really hadn’t anticipated was him inviting you to drinks. Not looking a gifted horse in the mouth and not being a complete idiot, you agreed to go. One thing led to another and well, the next thing you knew, you were sneaking out of his hotel room before he had woken up. It was better that way. A little more dignified than being kicked out. Only a little.

The memories were fond and ones that you would hold onto for some time.

Back in school, the thoughts faded further and further from your mind. You were entering the final year of your degree and your nose was to the grindstone. You didn’t sit at the top of your class for nothing after all and wanted to ensure that you remained as competitive as possible for a job after graduation. When you stepped into the classroom, the second of your final fall semester, Anthony Stark was the last person that you ever expected to see.

Sure, you had known that he was lecturing. Everyone and their mother knew that. He had enough with his company and had decided that nurturing the so-called future was his real calling. You remembered him being passionate about it over the first few drinks that were shared between the two of you. There was a genuine drive to ensure that the legacy he had created was left in good hands and would continue to evolve. It had been a part of the attraction, beyond the looks and what you were told he was.

He was supposed to be across the country, lecturing at colleges on the east coast. Not out west, at your college of all places, teaching a class that you needed to be able to graduate. The only section offered. Your heart was in your throat.

Normally, you would have chosen a spot towards the front of the class. Easier to engage in discussion and all of that. This was the one instance though that had you slinking to the last row, ducking your head down, hoping desperately not to be noticed. It had meant nothing to him so why were you so bothered? You could act like nothing happened. He surely would. A one night stand at a convention and nothing more. Hell, maybe you would get lucky and he wouldn’t remember you. The thought stung but you refused to give it the time of day or examine why it bothered you. The path that would lead you down was much too dangerous.

You could let out a sigh of relief as others began to file in and fill up the seats. The hall wasn’t big but the size of the class would be even smaller. There would be nowhere to truly hide once he began the lecture and everyone got involved. You were just hoping to save a little bit of face before having to deal with that. If he did remember, it would be horribly embarrassing for him to say something about it in front of the class. He didn’t seem like that sort of man but then again, you didn’t know him. You knew about him yes but knowing him was an entirely different ballgame.

He advised you all to read the syllabus and know when the assignments were due as it wasn’t his responsibility to keep track of it for you. He didn’t give anyone the chance to really settle in or get bored as he immediately launched into his lecture. There was a difference between his lecture and the way that he had talked at the conference. He had been talking to a crowd of some peers and some students but there was an easiness about the conference talk. It was informal and almost impersonal. This? He was fully engaged and he wasn’t going easy. It was a make it or break it pace and there was no doubt that a few students wouldn’t be able to keep up with him. Even so, he made sure the material was accessible and understandable. He knew that he was talking to students but was going to demand the very best from them.

This was the sort of class that you normally thrived in. Being challenged and stimulated was the whole reason that you had gone into the field in the first place. Nanotech in biomechanics was a step above and beyond what you normally dealt with and you fully intended for it to be your capstone project the following semester. It would be tough finding some willing partners but you were determined to make it happen.

You may have wanted to go unnoticed by the professor but you couldn’t help yourself. You had to engage when questions were asked, contributing to the conversation and even throwing back some questions at him. The back and forth, even with the other students, was invigorating.

Class came to an end all too soon.

“Ms. Y/L/N, please stay behind for a minute.” You almost groaned but managed to stuff your notebook into your bag without shaking too badly. You had almost escaped. The rest of the students filtered out, a few giving you looks that you couldn't entirely read as sympathetic or jealousy. Ambling down the stairs towards the front of the hall, you fiddled with the strap of your bag. This would have been easier to handle with some liquid courage. Since there was none of that around, you were going to have to deal with it sober.

“Is there something wrong professor?”  A smirk sat on his face and that same air of confidence that he had at the convention surrounded him now. This was a man that was used to getting what he wanted.

“Hardly. Today at least. Sneaking out before some morning fun on the other hand…” You felt your face heat up. Perfect. This was not the place or the time for this but he didn’t seem the least bit bothered by it.  You were thankful that no one had lingered behind for any additional questions. Or to make passes at the man. Those would come.

His chuckle brought you back to the current situation and caused you to shift on your feet.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable or mean anything by it. A mind like yours is rather hard to forget. Couple it with a great night and well, you know how it goes.” You didn’t but you weren’t going to say that to him right now. “I just thought that it would be easier for you and I to move past it, for the sake of the class.” Move passed it, right. Like you had thought, just another one night stand. Even if he had remembered you and had just complimented you in a sort of round about way. And the way that he was looking at you.

Before you could say anything foolish, you found yourself nodding.

“Yeah, of course. I uh, this class is important for me. Not just because I need it for the degree. I wanna base my capstone project in the area.”

“That doesn’t surprise me,” he hummed. “You were easily the most engaged in class. Asking the right questions. Do you think you are going to be able to get anyone else close to your level to manage that?” Apparently you thought much more alike than could have been anticipated.

“I don’t know. But I am going to do my best to get it figured out.”

“Let me know if you need any help with it. I’m sure I could weed out someone for you to work with. And if not, we will see if there is anything else we can do about that.”

“You would do that?” You couldn’t hide the surprise in your voice.

“I’m intrigued to see what you could come up with, just how far you could go with all of it. Sharpen that mind and hone in some of those skills and you could be almost as good as me. We need that in this world.” Some of the cockiness had toned down and there was a genuine note to his voice that caught you more off guard than his offer just had. If you weren't feeling shy before, you certainly were now. That was some of, if not the loftiest praise that you had ever received in your life. The man before you was an engineering genius and he just said you could be on the same level as he was. You had hoped to be half as good as him and that would have been a hell of an accomplishment.

“Thank you.” There was really nothing else to say to that. You had been stunned into silence beyond the basic courtesy that your manners dictated you give. He nodded, appearing satisfied with the response for now.

“Well, don’t let me keep you. I’m sure you have another class to run along to.” You did, of course. Your brain took a few moments to kick start properly. You nodded and mumbled an incoherent reply before quickly turning tail and getting out of there.

****************************************************** Things had felt awkward for the first few weeks of that semester. Eventually, it faded and you were able to really focus on the important tasks at hand. That meant preparing for your capstone project, even if it was not going to be started until the following semester. You wanted to have as much thought out as possible.

True to his word, Professor Stark was a wealth of knowledge and guidance as the idea was shaped into being. Nothing occurred between the two of you beyond the normal professor student relationship. There was a part of you that was disappointed with that. It was that part that you kept shoved down, hidden and locked away. You knew that there was no point in trying to entertain those sort of flights of fancy. He had made it clear what he was expecting, which was absolutely nothing to happen. You had big things that needed you undivided attention. Giving over to a fantasy, however ridiculous yet seemingly tangible it was, was not going to help you. You had worked much too hard to get to where you were and had too much riding on this. If Stark thought that you were capable of doing great things, you needed to be able to make that happen.

Almost a month into the semester, you were settled into Professor Stark’s lab. Refusing to call him Anthony or Tony made it easier for you to keep your distance. At least emotionally. Physically, it seemed that you spent the majority of all your free time either discussing potential projects in his office or with your head down in his lab.

The small grouping of friends that you had seemed to notice this and loved to point it out whenever you were able to come up for some air and the occasional drink. You couldn’t be all work and no play or you would burn yourself out before you got to your graduation.

A disgusted sound came from over in the corner, where the man in question sat grading papers.

“I don’t think there is any hope for this undergrad class coming through. They are failing to grasp the most basic concepts routinely. Why are any of them even bothering when they are all going to fail out.” He pushed forward the papers. Rarely did you hear him speak like that. It must have been bad. Or he was in a foul mood. You hesitated for a moment.

“They can’t be that bad,” you mumbled before setting aside the text that you were reading. You had been pouring over the latest papers for the past few days, gathering ideas of where the current research was to help focus your own idea. Not that you planned on doing what everyone else was doing but it would help narrow down the categories and choices.

“Here. Read it for yourself.” He motioned for you to come take one of the papers. He didn’t have any TA’s so he did all of his own grading. Having to see for yourself, you made your way over and grabbed the top paper. It didn’t take you long to figure out that he was right. The paper was horrid. Nothing about the concepts discussed were correct and the application was so far wrong that it was painful. This was someone majoring in the field but the paper made it seem like they were some arts major that just copy and pasted a shit ton of things from a textbook.

“Wow.”

“I wasn’t being over the top in the comment.”

“No, you weren’t. This, it’s,” you shook your head. “This is awful. It feels like things were just randomly copy and pasted in without any sort of thought.”

“The rest of the stack is just as bad. I don’t know if the class all signed up as a joke or if they all decided to get shit faced and do the same damn paper. Either way, what am I supposed to do with this? And with them?” He stood up and grabbed for his jacket. “I don’t know about you, but I need a drink.” Was it the smartest idea? No it wasn’t. But you had been holed up for four days working through papers towards the idea that was so close to taking a proper shape. You hadn’t wanted to let it go. A drink was probably just what you needed to reset and give yourself some time to recharge.

“You know what? That actually sounds like a good idea.” In reality, it was a terrible one. That was how the two of you had ended up in bed the first time around. It was a risk that you understood in that moment and didn’t care about.

“Good. You’ve been in here almost more than me. Don’t need to turn you into a recluse just yet. Said you could be like me. Not that you had to be me,” he teased. You rolled your eyes at the comment.

“Great minds and all that jazz right?” you shot back with a grin as you slid passed, though mentally cursing yourself for falling into the banter. There was a level of comfort that had to be achieved, that was there just for the sake of being able to work together. Sharing ideas and having him challenge you mentally meant that it couldn’t be all business and strict. It didn’t go with his personality at all. It would make it too stiff and too difficult to manage.

The bar wasn’t too far from campus, though not frequently by too many students. It meant that you two weren’t bombarded by familiar faces when you entered. The atmosphere was quiet and welcomed. The place was filled with what were likely regulars, those that wanted to escape the crowded bars of a college town. He motioned towards a booth in the back of the bar and you nodded, understanding what he was saying without him having to say it.

He brought two beers over just as you settled into the seat. Generic enough. It wouldn’t be unheard of for a graduate student and professor to head out and share a drink or two. No one would question or think it odd. Not that there was anything odd going on. The thought pushed to the forefront of your mind and you were thankful for it. It reminded you that nothing was going to happen and nothing could happen. This was just a drink between, well friends and colleagues would be the best fitting terms.

There was a silence that stretched between the two of you. It wasn’t awkward and there wasn’t a need to fill it for the time being as you both just sipped your beers and relaxed. He was away from grading those awful papers and you were getting a reprieve from the hole that you were seemingly digging yourself into.

“I’m thinking that you are going to have to work on the capstone by yourself at this point. You are already putting in more hours into it than I am sure others will for the entire project. At this point, I don’t think that anyone is going to be able to follow what you are onto. That being said, I am willing to offer myself as an advisor for it and push back against the board if they take any issue with it.” The offer had not been fully fleshed out the last time it was brought up. It had merely been a suggestion at best. Now it was being laid out in front of you.

You set your beer down out of fear of spilling it and somehow making a fool of yourself.

“You’re serious?”

“Wouldn’t joke about something like that. But I think you know that by now.” He was right about that. He could brush off a lot of things and make them seem trivial but not something like this. He understood what it meant. He leveled you with a look that meant he wanted a proper answer. Right then and there, you had to make your decision.

“Okay,” you agreed. “I know it’s what I want to do and the only way that it is going to happen.” You watched a smile appear across his face, different from the smirk that he usually wore. It was genuine and caught you a bit off guard but you hid that behind a quick drink.

“Good. I know it’s going to take the rest of the semester for you to refine the idea of yours so I won’t bother asking about it just yet. Or tell you to stop working on it now that you know you aren’t going to have to convince others that it’s a good idea. You won’t anyway.” He wasn’t wrong and a sheepish smile came to your face.

“You’re right.”

“I know.” That brought a laugh out of you. You shook your head and took another healthy sip from your glass. “Guess that settles the elephant in the room then. You can at least stop worrying about it.” He relaxed back in his seat, his shoulders dropping a bit. It wasn’t often you saw him actually relax like that, where he didn’t have something to focus on or the next thing to jump immediately to. You imagined that you had been the same way though since the semester had started.

“Any plans for the weekend?” An innocent enough question.

“More work. There was a concert this weekend that my friends were all heading to but I wasn’t fond of the artist so I really don’t have much else to focus on.” His head cocked to the side ever so slightly.

“You might actually rival me Y/N,” he laughed behind his glass. “You are going to work yourself into the ground. I am going to lock the lab. You need a weekend off.”

“Coming from the man that doesn’t know the meaning of the words day off?” you challenged right back.

“Maybe when I was younger. I have gotten better about it in recent years,” he hummed softly. “And that’s a lesson you are going to learn early on if I can do anything about it. There’s a difference between working through a break through and burning yourself out. You have other classes that I know you need to focus on. Which isn’t the point of taking the weekend off mind you. Take a trip out of the city or something. That’s something that’s still done right?”

It was your turn to laugh. You could understand the sentiment behind it though. Your friends had been urging the same thing. It was just hard to pull yourself away when you were close to finally getting the idea to where it needed to be. It was in your grasp and you didn’t want it slipping away.

“You realize that I could still go to the library or just work in my dorm.”

“I did plan for that.” Your brow furrowed when that was the response. Planned for that? You had no idea what that meant. “You are taking the weekend off or the lab is off limits to you completely next week. I’ll have it locked up and maybe even take a week off myself. I can get someone else to proctor the testing that I have for all the classes.” For a moment, you thought that it could be a bluff. A whole week away? It didn’t seem like something that he would do but that damned smirk of his was taunting. He seemed serious as he cocked a brow in challenge. You weren’t sure that you were willing to call him on such a thing. A week outside of the lab and wouldn’t him to bounce ideas off of could really put a monkey wrench into your plans. It was a good damn threat and he knew it. Your shoulders fell and you had to admit your defeat. There was no way that you were going to risk that happening.

“All right. I’ll take the weekend off.” Though you had no idea what you were going to do for it. With all of your friends away, you were really on your own. You had just promised not to work so you were going to have to figure out what you were going to do. The man across from you looked like the cat that caught the canary and you rolled up a napkin and threw it at him. “You don’t have to look so damn smug about it.”

“Course I do. I got what I wanted and now we can move on. I’m going to get us some more beer. Unless you wanted something different?” He was on his feet but had paused at the side of the booth. There was a moment that you really debated what was a good idea and what wasn’t. If you couldn’t work then it meant that you didn’t have to be up early. If you didn’t have to be up early, then  you could afford to drink a little more than usual. You had already taken the risk in coming out with him to the bar so what was a little more?

“Yeah, some vodka.”

“Coming right up.” It wasn’t like you planned on getting drunk with the man. That had happened once already and while you wouldn’t ever mind a repeat of that night, it couldn’t happen.

*************************************

The weekend off had been exactly what you needed to recharge and reset. The drinks and the relaxed company had helped. You had made it back to campus before parting that night. No funny business happened, even if your subconscious tortured you about it later that evening. The drinks had become a part of your regular routine. Every other weekend, on Friday, the two of you would leave the lab and head to the bar. A couple drinks, some jokes and banter exchanged, and a walk back before separating. You would take the weekend off, or at least put some focus on your other classes. They were all a breeze for you at this point so it wasn’t like you had to dedicate too much brain power to them. Just enough to get good marks and move on.

Another Friday night had rolled around and the routine was maintained. You hadn’t been in the lab for once, choosing to settle into the library and work on one of the whiteboards there. The alarm on your phone went off though and you knew that you had to wrap it up. It wasn’t like the two of you had talked about where you would meet up. It had just been happening since you had been spending so much time in the lab with him. So you assumed that it would be the same as it was every other weekend.  

After you lifted your bag to your shoulder, you slowly made your way to the edge of campus, staying mindful of your surroundings. If he didn’t join you by the time you had made your way to the bar, you decided that you would turn around and head back to the library. There were still a few things that needed to be worked out on your paper for another class before you turned it in in four days.

You made it to the bar just in time to hear your name called.

“Y/N!” He sounded happy. You pushed off the feeling that came with it. “I thought you might have flaked out on me since you weren’t at the lab.” You gave him a smile.

“I know better than to call your bluff. I know that your threat still stands.”

“At least someone understands the value of a good threat still.” The bar was filled with faces that were now somewhat familiar. You didn’t know names, not talking to anyone beside Tony here. That barrier had fallen after the second visit to the bar. It just didn’t fit to keep calling him by his formal title while the two of you were drinking together.

“Well, it holds enough weight and consequence that it holds value. You just have to know how to properly threaten someone these days.” You moved to the booth that you always occupied while he grabbed the beers that you started the evening off with.

********* The pounding in your head was the first thing you noticed. The sunlight creeping in through the blinds didn’t help the situation at all. You reached up to grab the pillow and pull it over your face only to realize that your arm was a bit pinned to your side. In fact, you weren’t able to move at all. You opened your eyes, groaning at the action as light assaulted you, to realize that you weren’t in your room at all. It looked unfamiliar. Then, it registered that there was a warm body beside yours and an arm around your waist was keeping your own arm pinned down to your side. Things weren’t adding up  to equal out to anything good at the moment. You tried not to let any panic make the headache worse but you had to get up.

“Stop wriggling so much.” The voice was muffled but unmistakable. That was definitely Tony. You should have never agreed to go out for drinks with him. You had no clue what you were going to do now. It changed things once again. It wasn’t like you could both just go and forget about it. He was supposed to be your advisor next month. You were going to have to spend a lot more time with him than you already were. This whole mess complicated that beyond belief.

“Tony, I have to get up.”

“No you don’t. You have to go back to sleep.” You thought that maybe he had just done that when there was a pause. “You have one hell of a hangover and so do I. It’s early on a Saturday, the sort of early that no one should be awake unless they stayed up all night to see it. So go back to sleep, stop worrying.” That was easy for him to say. Stop worrying? How the hell were you supposed to do something like that when you had just slept with your professor and soon to be advisor? You may not have remembered much of what happened after deciding to leave the bar but it was more than obvious given the warmth of his skin against your abdomen that you were lacking more clothes than what would be proper.

“I’m not going back to sleep. I have to get up.” The unspoken leave was there.

“Not letting you go this time.” You didn’t understand that. He was the one who recommended keeping things a strict professor student relationship. He was the one who brought up putting the one night stand beyond you and acting like it never happened. Now he wanted to flip the script? That was not fair and a shot that he couldn’t just call like that.

“Let go.” It was a demand, clear and simple as you shifted and grabbed his arm to pull it off of you. “I’m leaving Tony. And that’s that.”

“Y/N.” His voice was softer and much more awake than it had been before. “Sweetheart, turn over and look at me.” You didn’t want to. There had been enough risks taken and it landed you here in his bed. Again. Only this time, you couldn’t escape. He huffed behind you before shifting himself, pulling you onto your back so you didn’t have a choice. You were forced to look up at him as he hovered over you. Nothing was said as he looked down, almost to the point that it became uncomfortable. That was when he leaned in and kissed you.

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #392

“l.a. is where stars come to die”

Do you think there’s anything you did better when you were younger? I think I was a better writer, honestly. Like I've developed in some areas, like being less over-dramatic, but I just think my creativity in wording and such has dulled down. Who was the craziest teacher you’ve ever had? I've never had a "crazy" teacher, honestly. What’s the last thing you got paid to do? Take pictures. What’s the most romantic thing you’ve ever done for someone else? How should I know? Ask either Jason or Sara. Have you ever wanted to model? No. Have you ever seen someone have a seizure? I THINK my sister? Teddy had seizures in his old age, too. What’s your favorite car? I don't have one, really. Do you know any HTML or CSS? If yes, how much? I know veeeeery little basics. LIke, I can change the color of shit and that's about it lmao. Do you tend to care about the lives of celebrities? Why or why not? Only celebrities I really really care about, like Mark. What do you think of the scene style? #aesthetic and I will ALWAYS be envious of the hair. Have you ever told an extremely inappropriate joke? Oh god, I remember one. What is the highest you have been up, other than in an airplane? On a certain faire ride, I wanna say. Is there any hope of you ever seeing your favorite band in concert? Ozzy does want to do another tour at some point, but he's fighting Parkinson's currently, so it's not guaranteed it will happen. Mom and I planned on going to his last one that was scheduled, but the diagnosis cancelled it. :( What is your favorite non-green vegetable? Uhhhhh I guess potatoes. What is your favorite non-traditional fruit? I don't think I've even had a non-traditional fruit. Just basic stuff. Have you ever had Swedish Fish? Yeah, I'm not a fan. What is your favorite origami shape? Birds, I guess. Do you usually take the stairs or the elevator? I pretty much always take an elevator if one's available because my legs can barely handle stairs at all. It's agonizing for me. Do you need a key card to get into the building you live in? No. What was the last takeout food you had? I had a burger from McDonald's a few days ago. Do you take the pickle off your burgers? No, I love pickles on burgers. Do you share a bed with anyone? Just my cat. If you’ve read or watched Harry Potter, which book/movie is your favorite? I haven't. What’s the last app you downloaded on your phone? I re-installed DragonVale. What do you know the most about? Meerkats, Markiplier, and Silent Hill, probably. What TV shows can you not stand? What's that stupid show on Adult Swim, Rooster Teeth or something like that? That shit was so dumb. Have you ever tasted your own tears? I mean not intentionally. Sometimes tears just fall down a spot where it happens. Are your legs hairy? I can almost guarantee to you that I probably have the hairiest legs of any woman you've ever met. Do you like Cheese-Itz? I love them! We don't really buy them though because both Mom and I can destroy a box of them. Have you ever built a sandcastle? I have. Did you ever watch Barney as a child? Yeah, I loved Barney, but not as much as my older sister. She literally "married" him, haha. Have you ever had a pet rabbit? No, but my older sis did as a kid. That poor thing died and Ashley didn't know for THREE DAYS. Mom took it out earlier and I guess she wanted to see how long it took Ash to notice? She didn't take great care of it, so. Are you wearing anything of any sentimental value? Describe? Yes, my friendship ring with Sara. To you, what is especially distracting? Tapping noises. When was the last time you did some major cleaning? MAJOR cleaning? Good question. How do you feel about people who neglect their pets? It sickens me. Have you ever contemplated cheating on anyone? Nope. When are you likely to lie? Probably when I don't want to seriously hurt someone. What is a personality type that you do not like? I hate people who think they know everything, are unwilling to acknowledge their flaws and work on them, feel they're better than others, are closed-minded, sexist, bigoted, racist... What is a personality type that you DO like? I am drawn to people who are empathetic and try to understand and consider more than just themselves, are caring and genuine, philosophical and think deeply, are calm, friendly, good listeners, and have a light sense of humor. Which of your friends is the least like you? In what way? I actually don't know. MAYBE Mini with her being extremely conservative to a frustrating degree and overwhelmingly religious. We diverge pretty strongly in beliefs that are important to me. How about the most like you? In what way? Sara! We have incredibly similar interests and morals, and we both are wild over animals. When was the last time you felt under-appreciated? I'm gonna be completely transparent here, even though it's uncomfortable to admit. I was very unhappy with the literally two interactions a poem I was really proud of got on dA. Like it was one I was trying to get published prior to just posting it there, so it was really disappointing to feel so overlooked when you worked hard on something you felt came out great. Does anyone take advantage of you or take you for granted? No. Are you taking anyone for granted? I sure as hell hope no one feels like I do. I definitely try to appreciate those I have to the utmost. What is one selfish thing that you do? I prioritize my alone time probably too much. How about something selfless? I'm pretty much always willing to listen to people's hardships and comfort them even if my own mental health is in poor condition. What do you like to do on your favorite holiday? Just be with family and really focus on how lucky I am to have them. What helps you fall asleep? I guess really paying attention to slowing my breathing, but that doesn't always work. It takes me at LEAST half an hour to fall asleep, so I struggle no matter what. Is there anyone you wish you were still friends with now? Megan. I really, really miss her. What is a fear you want to overcome? SOCIAL ANXIETY. UGH. What is something you do not like about yourself, with good reason? I'm lazy. What do you usually cry about? PTSD. Do you like pizza better on the second day? No. What do you like on your pancakes? Butter and normal syrup. Have you ever made up your own emoticon? I don't think so. How do you generally meet people? Online in one way or another. Have you ever seen a Broadway show in New York? No. Are you listening to music right now? Yeah, "God Hates Your Outfit" by Jeffree Star lmao. Look, it's catchy. Can anyone in your immediate family play the guitar? No. Have you ever wished to be an internet celebrity? How about a ‘real’ one? No. Like I've actually *loosely* considered trying to be a let's player with my love of games, but I don't even want to *risk* popularity; not that I think I'd get to that point, but still, I don't like the chance. Have you ever been kayaking? No. Do you still live with your parents? Yes. Do you believe you will never get over someone? I think Jason will always occupy at the very least a small corner of my mind. I just deal with loss so poorly in general, but that... that breakup was something. What do you order at Burger King? I don't like BK. Have you ever lived by yourself? No. Pretty sure I never could with my depression. What brand cell phone do you have? It's just a Tracfone, lol. Did you ever have a ‘security blanket’ when you were younger? Yes, my stuffed moose. What is your lucky charm? I don’t have one. Have you ever been in a wedding? Yeah, I was a bridesmaid in my sister's. Do you believe in yourself? ehhhhhh What time does your dad usually wake up in the morning? I don't live with him, so I can't say for sure. He's a mailman though, so he gets up early, I know. Who was the last person/people you were in a car with? Mom. What movie do you plan on watching next? I've been meaning to watch Jacob's Ladder for like... over a year, lmao. It served as an inspirational work for Silent Hill, and I know its reputation is brilliant, so I really want to see it. I just... don't really watch movies unless I'm in the theater. When something really scares you, what’s your immediate reaction? Gasp or go "what the fuck" or something along those lines. I can almost promise a curse word is coming out of my mouth, lol. Using song lyrics, say something to your most recent ex: I don't wanna get emotional digging through the songs that remind me of her, so pass, lol. You can only watch 4 TV shows for the rest of your life. What are they? Meerkat Manor, That '70s Show, maybe Pokemon even if I don't watch it anymore (it could be like a comfort show if I'm limited to four), aaaaand I think Ginga Densetsu Weed. Do you think it’s possible for a rap song to make you cry? ... Yes??? There are a couple that have for me. Does the idea of having a baby at your age scare you? I'm not having kids, sooo I don't have to worry about this. What band has the power to make you cry by splitting up? None. I'd be really upset if some did, but I wouldn't cry. Who is your favourite famous person who isn’t a singer, actor, or athlete? Well, I WOULD say Mark, but considering he's officially an actor now... guess not, haha. Uhhhh. Put him aside and I guess maybe Bindi Irwin. I'm not sure.

[thelightofthingshopedfor]

WIP Wednesday, kind of!

for @grandthorkiday this year, I really wanted to finally finish the fic I started for it last year, but that didn’t happen because literally everything is happening at the same time this October and also it’s hard to focus on writing in general right now. but then I thought of this older Sakaar fic that has been vaguely on my “I’m almost positive this is practically done if I would just put some time and effort into finishing it (but it’s also totally possible it’s nowhere near as close to being done as I think it is)” list for ages, and I realized it totally fit the definition for Grandthorki, and I thought maybe I could finish that real quick instead!

...I couldn’t. there’s a lot more to this one that needs to be written than I kind of thought, in part because it’s so old I wrote it before Ragnarok ever came out, so it was based purely on the trailer (and then inspired by some speculation by @theotherodinson, I think), and to finish this fic I would first have to decide if it would be more straightforward to just keep going with my pre-Ragnarok speculation or change the setup a bit to fit the film. also I would have to turn a bunch of bullet points into an actual conversation that would have to...make sense? and, like, establish things? and that’s hard even when my brain isn’t busy constantly screaming.

but! I can post most of what I already wrote, just for fun and because at least this is something Grandthorki-related that I haven’t already posted elsewhere! knowing me this could backfire because then I won’t have as much motivation to try to finish it but on the other hand it’s been sitting at this exact level of unfinishedness for like three years so it’s probably not going to hurt.

warnings: I kind of don’t know what to say here because nothing actually happens but there’s a lot of discussion of rape and graphic violence, so...warnings for that!

[the basic premise/assumption here was that Thor ended up on Sakaar at some point in his search for the Infinity Stones, was forced into the Contest, and gradually gained more of the Grandmaster’s favor and attention because he’s Thor and he’s great at fighting. it’s probably been months at this point, he’s one of the Grandmaster’s champions, and that earns him a reward that he extremely does not want: a few hours with a sex slave, basically.]

The Grandmaster calls them his pets, sentient beings he keeps because they are pretty rather than for their fighting prowess, but the term seems only partially accurate given that it implies both ownership and some level of exclusivity. The latter, at least, seems to apply on a purely arbitrary basis according to the Grandmaster’s whims. There are other appropriate terms, certainly, and Thor has heard plenty from the guards and his fellow warriors. “Pleasure slave” seems to be the most accurate while still remaining within the bounds of marginal politeness.

“Grandmaster must like you special,” the guard says in a confiding tone as they walk. “This one used to be one of his favorite pets, all personal like—didn’t share him much, real picky about what anybody could do with him. Guess the mouthiness lost its shine. Oh yeah, that reminds me—” He digs into his bag and emerges with a handful of metal. “Boy’s really got a mouth on him, so use this when you get tired of it. Or if you wanna make sure he won’t bite; he still hasn’t learned his lesson on that either. Up to you though; walls are soundproof, so whatever you get up to won’t bother nobody else.”

It’s a gag, Thor realizes, reminded with a jolt of the muzzle he fastened on Loki before bringing him back to Asgard, and he cannot afford to think about Loki now. “Thank you,” he says as politely as he can, “but I have no need of…that.”

“You do, trust me,” the guard says. “Only way the boys have found to shut him up and stop him biting. Never met somebody who runs his mouth like that. Dunno why the Grandmaster liked him so long. Oh, and it opens, see—” He twists something at the side of the gag and part of the mouthpiece folds inward. Another twist and the opening widens, and it takes very little creativity to imagine how the mechanism would force the wearer’s jaw wide. “Careful with that, by the way,” the guard adds. “Two turns gets him open, three or four is good, keep going and you can dislocate his jaw—which is fine, fixed that before, it’s just the kind of thing you probably want to know you’re doing, right?”

Thor’s stomach turns over. When he is free of this place, he will come back to help the other slaves. He forces a smile. “I assure you, I do not need such an instrument.”

“You’ll thank me when you change your mind later,” the guard says, shoving the gag into Thor’s hand. Thor gives up and takes it, because if he has learned nothing else in the last few years he has at least learned the importance of picking his battles. “He hasn’t been fed today, either, so no worries he’ll puke on you. Might get him to cooperate if you promise him food after, but that never really works with this one, so, probably a waste of time. All up to you though. Anyway—” He puts a hand over the locking panel and the room’s outer door slides open. “I’ll lock you in, come get you in a few hours. Comms are open in case you need something. And ‘cause we get bored.”

“And if I prefer not to have an audience,” Thor says.

The guard snorts. “You been here this long and you don’t get how things work? In you go.”

Thor sighs and does as he’s bid. The outer door hisses shut behind him and the inner door slides open, revealing a modestly appointed bedchamber. The bed is the largest thing in it, a sturdy-looking wooden construction with prominent bedposts, but Thor’s attention is drawn immediately to the figure kneeling on the floor. He is facing away, though not by choice; his wrists are shackled behind his back and bound to a metal loop in the floor with a short length of chain. Thor has no doubt the positioning is deliberate, just another way of reminding the slave of his powerlessness. His shoulders are rigid, his fingers curled into fists—blue fingers, Thor notes, with black nails, and blue skin at the back of his neck under black hair. Probably Kree, then, which makes it a little odd that he is not being used in the arena, instead of…this.

Thor grimaces and moves to put himself in the slave’s line of sight.

[aaaaand naturally the slave is Loki, miraculously alive after dying in Thor’s arms on Svartalfheim! also he doesn’t recognize Thor at all and in fact remembers nothing prior to waking up half-dead on Svartalfheim and being scooped up by the Grandmaster somehow! this is all very upsetting for Thor! it gets more upsetting when, in the conversation I haven’t written, Loki starts working really hard to goad Thor into a temper and Thor realizes what he’s trying to do!]

“You want the gag,” Thor says finally.

Loki jerks back, his mouth snapping shut. He recovers quickly, his eyes crackling with anger, but he’s not quite fast enough to keep Thor from glimpsing a flash of fear underneath. “What I want is irrelevant. This is about what you want, that is the entire point, and I know your type, dozens of times over. You’re a warrior. You want to win. You want to hear me beg you to stop, to show mercy you delight in withholding. And I am telling you now, you can do anything you like but you will not hear me beg, not for anything. So use the damn gag.”

And with a flash of nauseating clarity Thor gets it, why Loki’s working so hard to goad others into forcibly shutting him up, because it’s the one tiny piece of control he has left. Unbidden, the image forces itself into his mind: Loki, eyes squeezed shut in pain, screaming into the gag and clinging to the very last scraps of his pride with the knowledge that if he breaks and begs for it to stop, no one will know—clinging to those scraps even though his defiance hurts him, because he has been left with nothing else that is still his.

[Thor gets real upset! upset enough to unlock his lightning powers without access to Mjolnir? yep!]

Loki’s red eyes widen, his bravado visibly wavering, and his voice shakes just a little as he says, “Well done, that’s actually a new one.”

“I’m sorry,” Thor says, “this will hurt, but I will be quick,” and he reaches out one crackling hand for the collar.

[Loki’s eyes widen etc. here instead probably] and he cringes away, raw panic breaking through his bravado, but if the guards are not already on their way they will be soon, and there is no time to spend on reassurances Loki will have no reason to believe anyway. Thor steels himself and lunges, seizing the chain at Loki’s wrists with one hand and his collar with the other, and Loki’s body snaps taut as lightning floods into him.

Once, over a century ago, a journey with Sif and the Warriors Three went disastrously wrong, resulting in Thor and Loki stranded alone on Muspelheim, relentlessly pursued by a dozen Fire Giants and unable to get far enough away to safely call on Heimdall. By the time the giants truly cornered them, they’d been running for three days straight without water or sleep, Loki’s magic was nearly depleted from several aborted attempts to hide them and open a pathway between realms, and Thor couldn’t draw down a storm from the painfully dry desert air. With no options remaining to them, Loki convinced Thor to channel the last dregs of Mjolnir’s lightning through Loki himself, in the theory that doing so might amplify what little remained of Loki’s magic and grant him the power needed to escape. It was a mad, desperate gamble that could have easily killed him and nearly did, but it worked, leaving Thor with—among other things—an unsettlingly precise knowledge of how much lightning Loki’s body could take without dying.

He has not thought of that incident in years, but he is glad of it now, especially without Mjolnir to help him control his power.

 When everything clears, Loki is sprawled on his back, staring up at Thor and breathing hard, freed of all his bonds. His expression shifts through pain and fear and shock into confusion and then, finally, a faint glimmer of recognition, and he says hoarsely, “…Thor?”

Thor exhales, relief and battle-lust tangling inside him, and holds out his hand to help Loki up. “Come, brother. It’s time to get out of this place.”

Loki stares at him for a moment longer, his throat working, and then he reaches back and takes Thor’s hand.

[recurring-polynya]

a little in love now and then, part 6/? | ao3 | ff.net |

Summary: Abarai  Renji doesn’t have a fortune, but he does appear to be in want of a  wife, at least in Lady Kuchiki’s opinion. Fortunately, Lady Kuchiki also  has a sister, and a woefully eligible one, at that. (itty bitty Hisana  Lived! AU)

Rating: T, for minor cussing

This time: The Cavalry: Renji seeks outside advice.

Older parts: | part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 |

Renji pounded his fist against the doorframe. He waited. He pounded again. “KIRA!” he bellowed. “KIRA, IT’S ME, ABARAI! OPEN UP, I NEED YOU!”

Slowly, the door slid open, and the exhausted lieutenant of Squad 3 squinted at Renji with purple-shadowed eyes.

“Kira, how do noble people get married?” Renji demanded.

Izuru stared at him for a moment, taking into account the hour, the fact that Renji was dressed in his New Year’s best, and finally, the question. He rubbed at his hair and blinked, before realization penetrated his haze of sleep-deprivation. “What have you done?” he gasped, horrified.

“You look bad, buddy,” Renji observed, before he suddenly remembered the probable cause of Kira’s condition. “Aw, cripes, Kira, I’m sorry. I forgot about, you know.”

“My captain being sent to the Maggot’s Nest?” Izuru asked dryly.

Renji cringed. “Something crazy happened and I thought o’ you, and I really wasn’t thinkin’ and I’m sorry. I’ll just go.”

Kira rubbed at his face tiredly and tried to blink his eyes into focus. “You cannot just show up here and ask me how to marry a noble person and then leave again.” He managed a small smile. “Besides, if you and your captain hadn’t cracked open Aizen’s conspiracy, who knows how much worse things would be. I probably owe you one anyway.”

Renji hunched his shoulders. “I didn’t do anything, aside from trying and failing to beat up that Kurosaki kid.”

Izuru smashed a fist into Renji’s shoulder. “Whatever, meathead. The fact is, I am so sick of auditing the last forty years of squad records that digging you out of whatever horrifying situation you have enmeshed yourself in will be a delightful distraction. Let’s consider it a mutual favor.” He stepped aside and waved his hand. “Come inside and tell me whose honor you have besmirched. I’ll put on tea.”

“I haven’t besmirched anyone’s honor!” Renji excused, trailing his old school friend into his quarters. “Lady Kuchiki wants me to marry Rukia.”

Izuru almost tripped on his way into the kitchen and had to catch himself on the edge of the counter. “What?”

“Not, like, this minute. I guess she’s taken a liking to me, probably ‘cause her baby likes me, and she’s been trying to find a nice husband for Rukia, which seems like a terrible mistake, and she’s made an even worse mistake insofar as judging my suitability for this, and I’m trying to take advantage of it before she catches on.”

Izuru squinted at him. “She wants you to marry Rukia because she likes you? Not because of your decades of loyal pining and sad puppy dog eyes?”

“She doesn’t even know about that,” Renji nodded incredulously.

Izuru set the kettle on the stove. “So, let me get this straight. Back when we were in school, right after Rukia was adopted, you came up with this incredibly half-baked plan to distinguish yourself in the Gotei, impress Captain Kuchiki, defeat him in battle, and… you always refused to say the last part out loud. What was the goal, anyway? To see Rukia again? To prove to her that the only difference between you and a man born all of the wealth and advantage you can imagine is a little elbow grease? To ask for her hand in marriage?”

“Something like that,” Renji replied vaguely.

“And you’re telling me it worked?”

“I didn’t even have to fight Captain Kuchiki!” Renji exclaimed, waving his arms. “Which is good, because you weren’t there when he fought Aizen, but even with my bankai, I’m pretty sure he can still kick my ass.”

Izuru shook his head. “You are simultaneously the most blessed and cursed idiot I have ever met.”

“I know it,” Renji admitted sincerely.

“Okay, so let’s talk about what actually happened,” Izuru said, pulling out a pair of fine tea cups painted with elegant blue cranes. “Did they extend you an offer?”

“Huh?” Renji echoed. “No, nothin’ like that.”

“She just said, Mr. Abarai, you seem like a sporting fellow, would you like to marry my troublesome sister?”

“Rukia is not troublesome! And it was more like, she invited me over for dinner, and afterwards, Rukia said, ‘Oh, my sister wants to marry me off because I’m troublesome and she’s picked you’.”

“Because you seem like a chump?”

“I am absolutely a chump, but I am pretty sure Lady Kuchiki genuinely likes me.” He scratched his head. “It’s weird that a person exists who would marry Captain Kuchiki and also likes me.”

Izuru nodded thoughtfully. “Indeed. And how does Rukia feel about this?”

Renji made a face. “Well, she’s not a huge fan of it, but she didn’t shut it down, either. She’s willing to consider it.”

“Hmm,” Izuru replied with mild surprise. “And Captain Kuchiki?”

“He… doesn’t hate me,” Renji shrugged. “I’m not sure he knows what his wife is up to.”

“I see,” Izuru nodded, pouring hot water into the cups. “And what about you?”

“Me?” Renji repeated.

“Yes, Abarai, you get an opinion, too, you know.” Izuru studied his own friend carefully for a moment, before saying, “People can change a lot in forty years. You two didn’t exactly part on the best of terms.”

Renji’s face stiffened. “I know.”

Izuru took a cautious sip of tea. “I didn’t mean anything by it. You’re my friend and I just want to make sure you’re doing something that will make you happy.”

Renji huffed. “Look, I said Rukia wasn’t quite on board yet, and I ain’t interested in marrying anyone who ain’t interested in marrying me.”

“Granted,” Izuru nodded, waiting for him to go on.

Renji stared at his teacup as he spun it in his hands. “I blew it. Back then. I’m not… I can’t…” He let out a frustrated breath. “Of course I want to get to know her again. I’m sure some things have changed. But I can’t screw this up again. If this is my shot, I gotta take it.”

Izuru knew how much it embarrassed Renji to admit things like this. He felt very grateful that, despite the rocks their friendship had hit over the years, Abarai still trusted him this much. He cleared his throat. “Good. I have the landscape of it. You’re interested, Rukia is open. Lady Kuchiki is for it, Captain Kuchiki exists.”

Renji thought for a moment, and then nodded. “Yeah. That sums it up pretty good.”

“So, let’s talk about the mechanics, which is why I suspect you’ve come to me. In general, it is your prerogative, as the guy, to propose. Very noble families, like the Kuchiki, might extend an offer of Rukia’s hand if they were trying to create an alliance or propose a deal with another family. It’s also possible that could happen if someone performed some great service to the family-- they very well could have offered her to that Kurosaki boy that stormed the Seireitei for her, for example.”

Renji’s shoulders went a little stiff, and Izuru realized he had hit a nerve. Maybe not quite a nerve. A soft spot. “He’s not even dead,” Renji pointed out, not sounding very confident that this was an adequate objection.

“Right, and he’s got no status in Soul Society at all, and also, they didn’t,” Izuru reassured him. “My point is, we should expect that the ball is in your court, at this point. There are two halves to this: proposing to Rukia and getting her Clan Head’s approval. Now, if you were rich and powerful enough, and didn’t care about Rukia’s feelings, you could skip her entirely, and go straight to Captain Kuchiki. Rukia would still have to agree, but it would be mostly on her family to get her buy in.”

“I don’t want that,” Renji mumbled.

“Exactly. Plus, you’re broke. You are still broke, right? If you’re not, you owe me 400 kan for your bar tab on Shuuhei’s birthday.”

“You mean when I had to leave early to drag Shuuhei home because he was blasted?”

“It was 600, but I’m giving you the good friend discount.”

Renji made a troubled face. “I am still broke, but I can pay you back.”

Izuru waved a hand. “Forget it, that wasn’t the point. The point is, and I cannot believe I am going to say this, but unless you plan on winning the lottery or passing your captain’s exam in the next few weeks, you are going to need to charm your way into this family. Lady Kuchiki likes you, but I am going to go out on a limb and say that it’s Rukia’s opinion of you that’s ultimately going to sway her, no?”

Renji nodded curtly. “That was my impression.”

“Then all of this is really a lot less complicated than you think. Spend some time with Rukia. See if she’s still the person you remember. Try to stay on Lord and Lady Kuchiki’s good side. Don’t jump the gun. If it’s meant to be, she should be so thrilled by the time you ask, she can help you wrangle the proper approvals from her sister and brother-in-law.”

Renji sighed, and took a long sip of tea. “What kinda odds you think I’ve got?”

Izuru gave a little shrug. “I’m frankly dumbfounded you’ve gotten this far. We are outside of the range of calculable probabilities.”

Renji fidgeted with the sleeve of his haori. “Do you really think… that Rukia might…”

Izuru settled his chin on one hand. “Abarai, in the time that I saw the two of you together, I found you and Rukia to have the most incomprehensible rapport I have ever seen between two people. I found her to be utterly impenetrable and you to be…” He trailed off. “Look, we’re outside of my area of expertise. I hope I was helpful on the nuts and bolts stuff.”

Renji’s eyebrows shot up. “Yeah! Yeah, thanks, Kira. You were super helpful. I’ll get outta here now, so you can get some sleep, I’m sorry to--”

“Hey!” Izuru interrupted him. “I didn’t tell you to leave. I just said we were out of my depth. Do you wanna call Momo? I’m pretty sure she hasn’t slept in a month, either.”

“Er…” Renji frowned. “Are you really sure--?”

Izuru was already on the phone. “Hey, Hinamori! How’s the endless cycle of self-recrimination going? Oh, you’re stress-baking again? Perfect. You want to get overly invested in Abarai’s personal life with me? Yeah, come over as soon as they’re done. No, you’re going to have to wait and hear him explain it, you would never believe me if I tried to tell you. Okay, great!” Izuru flipped his phone shut. “Momo’s in. She’ll be here in twenty minutes with dorayaki.” He paused. “You’re not imposing. This is good for us. Let us have this.”

“Ah,” said Renji. “Did you say dorayaki?”

[howardpotts]

A little spark (Thor x Reader)

Part 1: The First Time

Summary: You’re new to the Avengers and meet Thor when he visits Earth again. You two click right away. ;)

Warnings: SO MUCH SMUT i love it

Wordcount: 3486 (WHOOOPS)

A/N: Okay, soooooooo, enjoy. PLEASE let me know what you think? Do you want me to make those kind of longer one shots more often? I actually really enjoy doing that. Thank you if you reblog/spread my work; it means more to me than you probably think it does. (Oh, this is btw part 1 of 3 / 4/ 5 parts, let me know if you wanna be tagged)

Nervously you put a stray of hair behind your ear, watching the crowd in front of you. Everyone was talking, laughing, drinking and having fun. You, on the other hand, are wearing a fake smile on your face and making small talk you don’t want to make.

“Y/N?” Tony’s voice grabs your attention. You quickly turn to him, but your eyes aren’t on Tony. They’re on the popular God standing next to him. The God that’s even taller in real life than on TV. “This is Thor, Thor this is Y/N. She’s the new asset to the team.” Tony gives you a small nod before walking away from the two of you.

You shake hands with the Adonis-looking man. He has big hands that are far from soft; they’ve been through a lot of fights.  The man scans your body quickly, making you blush. “I am truly sorry that we haven’t spoken earlier. Asgard needed me.” His voice is lower than you memorised, a bit huskier as well.

“No worries, Asgard is your priority, which is understandable.” You give him a generous smile. Just when you wanted to ask him more about Asgard and the stories you’ve heard, Steve Rogers decided to join the conversation. “Ah, I see that you two finally met.”

-

The party is nearly two hours on its way, but you couldn’t bare being among the people anymore. You find your way to the balcony of the Starktower. There wasn’t anyone outside, making it the perfect situation for you to calm yourself before heading back in there. You put your arms on the balcony railing, making your body relax a bit.

The view was incredible; you never saw New York from this point of view before. You take another sip from your champagne and try to take in the view that’s in front of you. It is amazing to have the opportunity to save the earth and go to places you never thought possible. Yet, here you are, still having this empty feeling in your stomach.

“Lady Y/N?” The voice makes your heart jump. You didn’t expect anyone else to be on the balcony. Thor walks towards you and also let his arms rest on the railing. You both don’t say anything, as if he knew that you weren’t really in a talkative mood.

After a few minutes of silence, you let out a light sigh. “Beautiful view, huh?” His position changes a bit before answering. “It is… good for Midgardian views”, he says; doubt leaking in his voice.

You chuckle and turn your head to him. “That makes me curious to other views.” The corner of his mouth curls up a bit.

You continue talking for a while, about nothing really. Even though you feel the burning ache to ask about Asgard, you know you would find out eventually. Patience is key, especially with Gods who have no sense of human time.

While you’re talking, you sometimes dare to watch the God a bit closer. His blue eyes glisten, his bun is perfectly done but with two strands of hair loosely hanging on his face, his beard is well-cut as you’d expect from a God.

“Lady Y/N, I hope I’m not crossing boundaries, but your looks are captivating.” The words make you blush in an instant. For a few seconds, you have to put yourself together again and find some words to the handsome man standing right next to you.

“You’re not bad yourself”, are the words leaving your mouth. God, how you could punch yourself in the face right now. Thor smiles happily and leans a bit towards you.

The flirting continues while you slowly close in on him. Sometimes you touch his shoulder or arm as you laugh. He touches you as well, but on your lower back. Even a blind man could tell that the two of you were flirting with each other; the tone of your voice was smooth and girly while his was husky and raw.

“If you assent, I’d rather leave this place”, Thor says unexpectedly. Was he really asking you to go ‘somewhere quieter’?

You weren’t exactly sure what Thor’s intentions were on getting away from the people. Did he really just want to leave or was he implying on something more… sexual? You didn’t have any D in months and were pretty much craving for his, but then again; you’re part of the Avengers and don’t want to make things awkward.

You nod in silent and walk back to the room of people. As you walk in, the noise is annoying you immediately. God, you were so glad you were leaving this place. Without even thinking of saying goodbye to any of the Avengers, you follow Thor to the elevator.

-

The two of you decided it was best to head to your apartment. You walk in and turn around. “Welcome to House Y/L/N”, you grin before spinning back again and walking to the kitchen. “Want something to drink?”

Thor follows you in to the kitchen. “No, thank you.” You shrug and get yourself a glass of water. You take a few gulps, putting a glass half full on the counter. When you look at Thor, you see that his eyes are fixated on you. Well, not on your eyes, but on your body.

His eyes slide down from your breasts, slowly to your legs and back up to your eyes. He walks closer to you and grabs both of your thighs, leaving his face a few inches from yours. “This dress makes your body look like it has been sculpted by angels.”

You feel kind of overwhelmed by his sudden closeness, but you get yourself together in a second. “’You’re the one to talk.” Again, your flirtatious self is letting you down with such a bad comment.

Before you could overthink your stupid reaction, your thoughts are cut off with two lips on yours. Your eyes close the second they get a grip on the situation and your lips automatically kiss back. The kiss was hard and needy. His beard was scrubbing just above your upper lip, making you want to push his face between your legs in an instant. God, you really weren’t sexual active for a while.

The kiss is getting sloppier and sexier. Thor is wrestling to get his jacket off his body while you’re working on the buttons of his blouse. Every time you accidentally touched his chest, you could feel the warmth of his body through the material of his blouse. It was such a big turn on.

When Thor’s upperbody is completely naked, you interrupt the kiss to take a good look. Thor can’t help but chuckle. “Are you enjoying the view?” You nod and touch his chest, trailing your hands over his abs. He flinches, probably not expecting the sudden touch.

“Can I please divest this dress?” He’s already at the zipper, not really waiting for an answer. Still, you nod. He slowly unzips it at the side of your body. He knows fully well what he’s doing, trailing his ring finger after the zipper to make you shudder.

You’re not sure what type of lover the God is in bed, but until now it feels like he’s pretty vanilla. He even asks permission for something that is obviously granted a long time ago.

You drop your head a bit and lean in to his neck, leaving kisses everywhere. With every kiss, you suck a little bit of his skin. His breath is becoming heavier due to your act, giving you a little confident boost.

His hands go to your shoulders and ripple the dress of your body, leaving you in your bra and panties. Now he’s the one pulling back and looking down. “My gods”, are the only words leaving his mouth. He looks you in the eyes again for a second before pushing his lips back on yours.

His tongue is now ticking on your lower lip and you happily open up, making your tongues wrestle for dominance. His hands cup your breasts and squeeze them softly, making a breathy moan coming out of your mouth.

He stops the kiss by slowly going to your neck, leaving a hickey on your sweet spot. You moan and throw your head a bit in your neck, giving him full permission to your neck.

His right hand is now leaving your breast, trailing down to your right leg to pick it up and pushing himself closer to you. You could feel the big and hard bulge through his pants, again making you moan.

“What do you want, my queen?” His voice is low and raw, his eyes full of lust when his eyes meet yours again. “You”, you say. His lips curl up a bit.  

“And what do you want from me?” He looks at you like you’re his prey, but you don’t care at the moment. “To take me”, you say. Even though you really want him to fuck your brains out, you weren’t sure if he’d like that language.

A low chuckle leaves Thors mouth. “Take you? Oh, love, you’re going to see stars”, he winks. Your legs weaken, the heat between them only rising. His hands are leaving your breasts, one is behind your back and with one flick you feel your bra loosening up.

Quickly, you throw the piece of clothing to the side. Thors hands are on your breasts again, kneeding them harder than before. A mischivious smile is on his face before he dips back to your neck again. Now slowly trailing to one of your boobs.

For a few seconds, his mouth is on and around your nipple. “Oh god”, you say while going through his hair. He leaves the nipple again and comes back up, kissing you again.

You expected him to get his hand back on your breast, but instead you feel it on your ass. He squeezes it before going a bit lower and deeper to your inner thigh. He strokes is softly and teasingly.

You buck your hips in response, hoping he’d get the message. Again you feel the bulge in his pants. It makes you realise that you might want to take his jeans off.

Your hand goes from his back to the front of his pants. Quickly you unbutton his jeans, his bulge still stuck behind his underwear. You break the kiss and give him an innocent look before slowly going down, taking his jeans with him.

You get on your knees and in an instant you feel his hand going through your hair. He knows what’s about to come and he’s not going to complain. Both of your index fingers hook in his boxers and slowly put them down, freeing his erection.

You wanted to gasp at the sight, but you didn’t want to give him even a bigger ego than he already has, so you stay silent. Your left hand grabs his erection and you slowly pump it three times before getting your tongue in the game.

You lick down from the tip to the bottom, his cock twitching from the touch. A groan leaves Thors mouth and his hand pulls your hair softl. You look at him through your eyelashes and see he’s watching you closely, taking it all in. You get your tongue back to the tip.

Your lips join too as you suck the tip very carefully before taking his length in your mouth. As much as you wanted to take all of him, you couldn’t. He was way too big, so you compromise with your hands where your mouth couldn’t reach.

Soft pants and moans are coming out of his mouth. You moan while he’s still in your mouth, causing vibrations. A loud moan now leaves his mouth, along with a few curse words you didn’t expect the God would use. “Fuck, Y/N, feels amazing.”

His second hand is now also tugging at your hair. You try and speed up the pace a bit more and take him a little deeper. This causes Thor to snap as he grabs your head. You hold your head as still as possible and let him using your mouth.

After a few thrusts he stops and pulls you away from his cock. “Enough”, he says and you obey. You get back on your feet, but not for long. He scoops you bridal style and goes from the kitchen to the livingroom to your bedroom. It isn’t really hard to guess where your bedroom is, since its door is wide open showing your unmade bed.

He gently puts you down on the bed and pushes you in to the sheets. A little smile appears on your face, seeing the sight in front of you. His muscles were unbelievably buffy, his hair was loosely hanging around his face.

He gets on top of you and kisses you again. His erection is pressing against your folds. Your hips buck in response to the pressure, hoping to get some friction on your clit.

Thor immediately jumps to action. He gets on his knees and strips off your latest piece of clothing. He throws it away somewhere in the room and grabs your boobs again. His head is dipping on one nipple, sucking and swirling with his tongue. The other hand is pinching your nipple.

A loud moan leaves your mouth. As much as you appreciate what he’s doing, you really wanted him to go down already. Your hands go through his hair and slightly push it down, trying to get him to move down.

He stops his movements and looks up to you. “Patience, love”, he grins. He finally moves, leaving trails of kisses on your stomach before stopping just before your wet spot.

His fingers now take over and spread your folds. There’s a sound of approval coming out of his mouth. “So pretty”, he says before getting a finger on your clit. He gently rubs it, spreading the wetness all over. He looks up at your face, which makes him smile. It’s red, sweaty and your mouth is open wide without any sound leaving it.

“I want to hear you, my queen, I want to hear your pleasure”, he encourages you. An instant moan leaves your throat. You weren’t sure how human it was, but at the moment you didn’t care. Your hips bucked in to his finger, begging for more touching and more pressure.

He dipped his head between your legs and replaces his finger with his tongue. He roughly licked your clit. “Oh god, Thor”, you exclaimed, grabbing the bedsheets in your palms.

The finger that was playing with your clit, was now making his way in to your entrance. It pumped in and out, every push rewarded with a small moan from you. A second finger quickly follows, stretching you up a bit, but also drifting you closer to the edge.

His tongue leaves your clit for a few seconds. “Now, let me shatter you”, he grins before going back. You wanted to raise your eyebrows at the comment, since you didn’t know where it was coming from, but a sensation took over your body. As much as you wanted to moan and make him hear how good you were feeling, there wasn’t any noise coming out of your mouth.

You have no idea what the hell he was doing, but it made you see stars on your ceiling. His fingers are pushing in and out harshly and his tongue is pressuring your clit. You were coming in an instant and your voice made its way out of your throat. “Thor! Oh, go- Thor!” You wish you knew other words than ‘god’ and ‘Thor’, but those were the only ones that you could think of.

Your legs were shaking, your hands grabbing the sheets everywhere. Your back was arched and your head was in your neck. He gave you one of your strongest – if not the strongest – orgasm you’ve ever experienced.

When you felt yourself becoming oversensitive, you pushed yourself a bit up. Thor came back up with his head, a grin appearing on his face. “Holy shit, that was- wow.” You didn’t have any words for it, but the smile on Thors face only became bigger.

“Let’s just say that being a God has its privileges”, he says as he comes back up to you. On his way up, he leaves a small kiss on both of your nipples, making you shudder since your body is still recovering from that orgasm.

“Privileges?”, you ask curiously. He nods, not giving you the satisfaction of giving you the answer. You kiss him again, your hand stroking the back of his neck. Thor growls lowly, letting you know that he’s weak for your touch.

Now it’s your turn to grin. You pull your head up and leave a sloppy kiss on his throat. Even though at first he left some space between his cock and your pussy, he now closes the gap between the two of them.

“Can you come twice for me, my queen?” He looks you in the eye, his eyes begging for permission to enter. You nod and spread your legs a little further to encourage him. His cock twitches against your clit, sending a new heat through your body. God, you were so ready for him.

He positions himself on top of you and let his erection slowly slide in you. He thrusts slowly, every push getting a little bit further in to your pussy. He’s watching you closely to see if you’re not in pain.

When he bottoms out, he stays like that for a few seconds. “You are really tight”, he says when he slowly pulls out.

He picks up a slow pace so you can get used to the size of his erection. You’ve never had such a length in you before and you could feel your walls stretching with every thrust. You let out little hmm’s to let him know you’re enjoying him.

His thrusts become faster and harder over time. Your hmm’s transform into uh’s. “Say my name”, he says with a raspy voice. “T-Thor”, you say while he’s slamming in you. You never stutter but this man really has you under his spell.

“Again”, he demands. You say his name again, and again, and again, until you’re almost screaming his name. He grabs your hands and put them above your head. His right hand is taking them both in one hand, while the other one grabs your boobs, which are bouncing on the same pace.

A wild sensation goes through your body again, driving you dangerously close to the edge. A little sparkle catches your eye, making you look down. His left hand is leaving sparkles while squeezes your breast.

“Up.. Here”, he pants while still thrusting in to you. You jerk your head up and meet his eyes. You didn’t know he could thrust even faster, but somehow he slammed in to you even faster.

“Who am I?”, he asks, still looking in to your eyes. “Thor”, you moan, the knot in your stomach almost unbearable. “I need to come”, you say.

“No, not yet.” Again, stars were appearing in your eyesight.

“Who”, thrust, “Am”, thrust, “I?”, thrust.

You didn’t know anything else than his name, but another thrust made you scream a word you didn’t even process. “GOD”, you scream. All you could think of was you coming all over his cock.

“Come for me”, he says. Skin is clashing on skin, sweat on both of your bodies. You finally release the knot you’ve been holding for too long. Your legs shake, your body feels weak. Okay, THIS was the biggest orgasm you’ve ever had. You weren’t even sure if you were still in your bed. You felt like you were floating in the air.

Thor tries to keep up the pace, but his thrusts are getting sloppy. You get pulled back to reality and scratch his back. “I want to feel you come”, you whisper. You wish you could’ve said it more sternly, but Thor was even more turned on that you were too weak to volume up.

You feel how there’s something warm filling you up from the inside. Thor groans and squeezes your breast painfully, but you don’t care. You let him ride his orgasm, while you’re still trying to get down from yours.

He thrusts a few times more before pulling out. He drops beside you on the bed, a fulfilled smile on his face.  “Wow”, you say. “Wow”, he agrees with a small chuckle.

You watch in each others eyes for another few seconds, both still enjoying the orgasms you had. Thor’s slowly getting back to his normal breathing and your heartbeat was slowing down.

“Let’s get cleaned up, shall we?”, you ask as you get up. He nods, following you in to the bedroom.

[the-chattering-tower]

Its pfq that pokefarm website? Ive heard about it for a long time but i never knew if it was worth playing- what do you recommend about it?

Hi, sorry I’m late responding to this! My homework ate my braincells

First of all, yeah, PFQ stands for PokeFarm Q! You can find the site here, reading what they have up on their front page should give somewhat of an image of what the actual game looks like.

Ultimately ofc whether it’s worth playing or not is up to you, but here’s a few neat/positive things about it, as well as neutral that I think should be mentioned! For context I guess, I joined the site in 2017 (well, 2016 dec 31 :D), had about an active year and a half, and got back into it recently

I don’t like comparing the two, but if you’re here you most likely are bc you’re into FR, so that’s my point of reference for some of these

I find PFQ to be overall more rewarding to play than FR. There’s a lot more To Do and kill time with, and even just the same old, same old of clicking through people to hatch your eggs, and then hatching said eggs feels more rewarding to me than kicking around on FR (and you’ve probably heard already how much I don’t enjoy coli, the only pasttime on FR that doesn’t Run Out). Each egg gives a gem when hatched, which can be used to work towards further goals, you can shiny/albino hunt, and there’s a bunch of other smaller things to do (like wondertrade, tend to your garden, fish, etc). It’s way easier to kill hours on PFQ for me than it is to do the same on FR

There’s also a nice variety of reoccuring events! Off the top of my head I could tell you about three weekly (not starting all at once) and two monthly events. That may sound overwhelming, but participation isn’t mandatory, and the nature of almost all events are different (one weekly and one monthly are similar, but the rewards are also different for completing them). Since 3/5 of these events also change each time (Tournament goals, Contest themes and Type Race teams), it keeps them from getting super repetitive. It’s not super easy to get bored even if you’re not good at setting up elaborate goals for yourself!

The site is way smaller than FR. This is a neutral point, but something I do wanna point out. I’m not online 24/7 ofc, but I don’t think I’ve seen the online counter go above 850 since my return. Compare the current ~800 ppl online on PFQ to FR’s current ~2.7k and it should provide some perspective. This means the forums don’t go by so fast, and also probably has something to do with the fact that the PFQ userbase seems to have little to no presence outside of the actual site (unlike what you can see of FR)

There’s bonus counters and I honestly enjoy them so much. Everyone just Playing The Game slowly fills 8 bonus counters, and when one of them fills, they activate a Bonus Day the next day that gives a bonus relating to what you need to do to fill the counter! For example when the counter for “shinies hatched” fills up, it grants a boost to shiny chances the next day, giving you a little extra incentive to do well on your current hunt if you’re hunting! (Multiple bonuses can be active at once regardless of each other)

There’s site-exclusive fakemon, both indepenent ones and fake variants/evolutions/alternate formes/megas of already existing pokemon. Whether that’s your cup of tea or not, it’s up to you

If you’re looking for something with more dreamlike moderation that FR - don’t bother with PFQ. Not gonna pit the two against each other, but both have their issues, drama is scalding and not at all worth it on both sites, and staff do tend to do things I strongly disagree with. If it’s your cup of tea though then keeping away from heated discussion should keep you away from the drama in general. As far as development goes, they do care about their site and act accordingly

The game is not impossible to play alone, but it helps if you have someone to turn to every once in a while, if only for things that require trading with another user. It’s not too bad though for the most part! I myself am happy to help on days I have the spoons to, and most of the general community is too. Krista and I both manage just fine on our own, with the occassional little help from each other when really needed

(Small detour but you can costumise every single colour of the site and add custom CSS which is like. there in the actual skin editor and fully endorsed by the staff and it’s Such a nice change from “if we find out you run an addon on our site we’re gonna ban you”. Ppl have threads up with neat custom CSS that span from pure cosmetics to accessibility)

Also, no previous pokemon knowledge is required for enjoying the site! It was one of my first and still my largest exposure to Pokemon Things, and the site teaches you everything as you go. I learned most of the dex, evolution requirements, shinies, gender ratios from playing on PFQ

Sorry this got so wordy D: If you do end up giving playing a try, do let me know! I’d love to check in and click through your stuff every once in a while at the very least!

[f-117-nighthawk]

More playlist meta bc I don’t wanna do homework and Jimmy kicked me out of the TA room saying I’d been in there for far too long for a Friday (it was four hours! Interspaced between classes! Workshop kit inventory is just an excuse to blast Gloryhammer to me, it’s fun)

Since I was talking about Ten Thousand Against One earlier, I’ve been thinking about the timeline and which event the songs are connected to. Long post under the cut

Turn the Lights Out is... sort of an odd case. It’s not like Remnants of Stars, which is about Galran and my philosophy about how we were created, what happens to us when we die, and the cycles that power the universe. Of course, Remnants of Stars is a little more than just philosophy. It actually describes (in a rather metaphorical way) the actual process of the marthinazik filtering quintesence into new stars, planets, beings, anything you can think of. It also has a very important lyric for much much later like, post Sticky Notes later. Now that I think about it, it actually defines a good chunk of that maybe-sequel-maybe-idea era in conjunction with Soul Extract’s Filaments. 

Anyway, back to Turn the Lights Out. It’s an odd case because it’s sort of like Remnants of Stars in that it’s more about the philosophy, but it’s before Remnants of Stars because it’s also kind of an event. If you read interviews with Delain about Moonbathers, Charlotte states that Turn the Lights Out is about Neil Gaiman's Sandman comics, specifically the character of Death. I confess I haven’t read those comics, but my interpretation fits her rather well I think. To me, Turn the Lights Out is about a gentle god who accepts they will not always be seen as who they are but will give their everything to protect those within their universe. Now, who does that sound like? Which characters have been around since the birth of the universe, under various names, whether they be Ibeshganszá, ‘kibrraldíl, Marduzbazí, or Vôltrôn? 

You can make an argument for Your World Will Fail to be directly after Turn the Lights Out, but I rather like it after Remnants of Stars too. Turn the Lights Out is the beginning of the universe, so naturally, it goes first. Sentient life needs to evolve for Remnants of Stars to truly fit, and even though Your Would Will Fail technically can happen at any point between the first Plank time and the next, it also happens when the comet that becomes Voltron crashes into Daibazaal. The Your World Will Fail/Dark Matter/Eater of Worlds trio is both a general, entire timeline-spanning idea, and a specific event. 

(Your world will fail my love/It's far beyond repair/Your world will fail my love/It is already there)

(Bring me your soul/Bring me your hate/In my name you will create/Bring me your fear/Bring me your pain/You will destroy in my name)

(Can't imagine the violence/The rage and the love in my madness/I am the eater of worlds and I'm looking for someone to feed me)

And then, right after that event, or even during, you have Apocalypse 1992. The death of the dream, the final madness before the triumph of chaos. 

You Keep What You Kill is very much the odd one out out of everything. Helion Prime based it off a book I forget the name of, but here it’s purely about Zarkon’s empire. The “Holy Half-Dead” have lost so much of their culture, of the family bonds that kept them together even when their mistakes threatened the destruction of all, but they still remember the songs of glory. And they do keep what they kill. 

And then there’s a rather large time jump of about five thousand Earth years to The Seven Sisters. This song is pretty well encapsulated in Child From the Stars (Lost in the Dark) (which is a lyric from Closure, but Closure is later for Reasons), but the other half of it is connected to Memories of a Girl I Haven’t Met.

Who Will Save You Now has gone through so many iterations of what it’s connected to I honestly don’t remember what it actually is anymore. Given its placement between The Seven Sisters and Nobody Gets Left Behind, I think it’s related to the SFSS Genesis’s disappearance. But it could also be placed in conjunction with A Simple Plan and be about something slightly different...hm, I’ll think on that. This song has such a Dark Matter vibe to me, but it hasn’t found a home that sticks in my brain yet. 

Nobody Gets Left Behind is really there bc it’s a fun song and when I found 1551 I immediately had to put something in. BUT it is a good song about family dynamics and, well, that’s Voltron in a nutshell right? (and then you get, right there in the first verse, “Don't even try to pretend/That you're rough and just as tough/As when you're missing a friend/Attack and take him back/Cause when the team isn't whole/You've got a hole in your soul/So step up to your fucking role/We might get hurt/We might be taking some hits/But when you're taking our friend/Then that's some personal shit” and you cannot tell me that’s not everybody’s mood post Battle in the Sarnan Nebula) 

A Simple Plan is a new addition in the past few weeks. I rediscovered The Spiritual Machines a few weeks ago and the lyric “How long can we hold off ending/How long can we pretend we're ok” hit me right in the Keith feels. So this one is in conjunction with the first verse of Nobody Gets Left Behind. The entire song actually reminds me of Dark Matter with how it’s centralized at one event but contains hints of other things (The truth arrived too slow).

Memories of a Girl I Haven't Met is maybe one standard year (so six earth months-ish?) after A Simple Plan. 

String Theory is... weird. It’s mostly there for the title, but the lyrics do contain themes found in other parts of the playlist that fit really well but don’t map to the event I associate the song with. It’s honestly about Shiro missing Adam and the rest of the people on Earth. Which, granted, given the point in the timeline the title is associated with makes a certain amount of sense but...idk. And the bit that begins with “You don’t believe in space” is about something entirely different. It’s confusing, but all inexplicably related to the title event.

Interesting fact: My Dark Matter drafts/ideas folder is actually split int pre- and post- String Theory folders. It was originally because String Theory is such a pivotal moment in the Coalition’s efforts, but it also ended up vaguely the middle of the timeline. It’s the point where things absolutely, truly, have no relation to what happens in canon. The butterfly effect stemming from the events of Shatterpoint (and an implied secondary shatterpoint in another fic) have changed things enough that apart from one general event, nothing happens the same way (and that event is for drastically different reasons). All in all, it fits the weird vibe of the song rather well.

Next is Belgrade, the Ultimate Klance Song, about three months later. Fun Shenanigans happen in conjunction with this absolute bop.

Here’s the surprisingly big gap of just over a standard Earth year, in which several important events happen that don’t have songs attached to them (Roentgen, maybe)

Then we get Birthright/Firewall, a set of songs about reclaiming yourself from the depths of hell with just a liiiiiitle bit of help from your family.

(It's time to take ahold of what belongs to me/It's time to walk away with no apologies/Voices in the mirror start quietly/And now they're screaming back at me!)

(This force knows what you can do/And what you can make/With your tattered shell)

Here Comes the Reign technically starts during Birthright/Firewall, but doesn’t come into full effect until a month later, and then even fuller around five months after that. Meanwhile, we have The Day the Earth Collapsed, which is rather self-explanatory.

A few months later there is Darker Matter. The fic connected to this is real weird, but also real important. Suffice to say it’s gonna be confusing, and a universe doesn’t like the Paladins for a while.

And then we have Closure. Child From the Stars (Lost in the Dark) is actually the first of four fics inspired by Closure’s chorus. (I also drew a picture for each fic. They’re combined into my desktop background, and the first one is still my phone background and my pfp) “I am the child from the stars/That got lost in the dark/Between heaven and hell/I am forced to live on/I am the cause when you sin/I am the demon you skin/But there is no more tears to beautify/This is my last goodbye”

Closure is a rather sad song actually, but the way I’ve interpreted it ends on a bright spot of hope. The first related fic I’ve already posted/talked about, the second would be around the time of A Simple Plan. The third is somewhere in the gap between Belgrade and Birthright/Firewall. I’ve placed Closure at the approximate time of the fourth fic. I actually just moved it while writing this, because I realized this makes more sense after Darker Matter and with the Fall of [Redacted]. I’ve chosen to interpret the last line as finally deciding to stay instead of the (probably more likely given the rest of the album) darker interpretations.

After Closure is Ember, which is actually super connected to Darker Matter which is why I originally had them next to each other. The thing is, all three of these songs are connected to very specific events, the latter two of which are in direct response to the first even if there is a month or two between them. Ember is on the playlist for two reasons: the first is the line “dark matter falling from the sky” that basically required me to put it somewhere; the second is the fact that I keep mishearing the lyrics. “chthonic” is not “cuthonic” (which is not a word, but I interpreted as meaning Cthulu-like) and it’s “riches to embers” not “witches to embers.” Make of that what you will.

And finally, after almost seven Earth years, we get to The Reckoning/This is a Call/World on Fire/Louder Than Words. The Reckoning sort-of picks up where The Day the Earth Collapsed left off, spanning at least a year before going full force into the frantic five days of the other three songs.

(In blood and tears/A thousand times/We rise against/We'll always hold the line/Of reckoning)

(This is a call to action/This is a call to arms/All lives for one, together/There are no false alarms)

(World on fire with a smoking sun/Stops everything and everyone/Brace yourself for all will pay/Help is on the way)

(We have the force to fight/We have the blinding light/A war is more than heard/Coming in louder than words)

[my-love-peterp]

Mistaken Chapter One

Word Count: 2103 THERE ARE NO ENDGAME SPOILERS, THIS IS A DELAYED UPLOAD FROM AO3

Fic Summary: Peter Parker has been given the responsibility of bringing in a new recruit. Now, as an adult, he realizes that none of the trashy YA novels he read in high school could have prepared him for this. There was a storm on the horizon, and all they could do from the Tower is watch.

Chapter Summary: A new recruit is brought into the fold and is more than a handful.

Warnings: language, mentions of injury, non-graphic violence (brief)

A/N:  You may have seen me over @fabtasticass which is my main blog. So this is my first fanfic and it's going to be a big one. It is a Soulmates AU but not in the traditional way. That won't show up until later chapters. I'm going to try to keep endgame a secret the best I can. I have some very angsty ups and downs planned but I'm trying to hold back. So I’ll tag each chapter with what pairing might be in that chapter in the official Tumblr tags but never at the beginning.

I ran, dodging rats, and clumps of unidentified garbage that lay literal feet from a plethora of garbage cans and dumpsters. God, I hated this city.

I especially hated this city in the rain, dashing through back alleys of Queens with all of my belongings in tow.

Rolling in and out of huge asphalt craters, my suitcases jostled my already pained arm. It had only been three or so hours since I’d reset the dislocated joint against my fire escape.

Blood dripped from a split along my hairline, mingling with sweat and city rainwater. At this point, I felt like a drowned cat and probably smelled like a wet dog. Super, awesomely attractive, right?

Bracing myself against the wall of the nearest building, I pulled a flask out of the interior pocket of my jacket and took a swig. The flask was light pink with the words “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun” emblazoned on the side. It filled me with a dark sense of glee and irony every time I used it. I nicked it from one of those chain party supply stores a few months back, which I supposed could be my version of fun.

The whiskey burned as it went down but as it hit my stomach it helped to warm my rain-soaked bones.

I began moving again. As I wove in and out of the misshapen piles in the alleyway, I felt the hair prickle on the back of my neck. It felt like I had a curious pair of eyes, tracking my every move and staring me down. I ignored my most basic instinct to turn around and investigate and my training kicked in instead. My eyes swept the alleyway ahead of me, monitoring the shadows, ears open and head down. I checked every shiny surface to see the reflection behind me. Empty alleyways are all that I was shown. So I shoved aside my intrusive paranoia and started whistling tunelessly as I moved. I’d felt that prickle for days and nothing had come of it.

In front of me, business lights filtered through the rain, casting a glow over the stone walls. Wet, sputtering and a little drunk, it only made sense that I was the target of some less friendly men who had stationed themselves outside of a local dive bar. They jeered and reached out at me. “Piss off you assholes, I’m not in the mood.”

Their demented shouts ranged from demands that I take off my clothes, false coos asking me if I needed their help to warm up and jokes about them being so good in bed women were jumping at the chance and willing to move in with them immediately to lock it down.

The rain got harder as I clenched my fist, glaring daggers at them and trying to subtly move faster. Everything about my body language screamed 'don't fuck with me', but it's hard to be intimidating when you're a generous 5'3. They advanced anyways and with a woosh, they all got tossed back into the brick wall, hard. The crack of a few skulls echoed down the empty alley, interrupted only by their groans as a few immediately came to.

The tingling on the back of my neck got more intense, this time joined by a fuzzy feeling alarm in the back of my brain. I hustled along, eager to get the hell out of Queens. I hadn't taken more than three steps when I heard him. “Woah, what was that? I webbed up those guys back there, they won't be able to move for a few hours. What was that though, can you like manipulate energy or is this outside the realm of earthly physics? Are you an alien? Or a mutant maybe? Or..."

Without looking up I sent another blast towards the overly excited voice and immediately heard an oomph followed by the sound of a body rushing towards the pavement. Or, rather, a dumpster.

“Hey not cool,” said the guy, poking his head up and out of the dumpster.

I groaned, immediately recognizing the mask, despite it being covered in what looked a lot like smashed avocado on the left side of the heroes head. Spider-Man.

Pushing my bags together, around my feet, I bound them to myself and alighted on the nearest rooftop, gently floating upward. I figured the enhanced cat was already out of the bag with the current company, so to speak. I ran along the flat roofs of the decrepit, abandoned buildings with still no destination in mind but out.

“Wait up, where are you going, stop! We're friends now right? It's rude to ignore your friends, and I'm the friendliest of friends, you know. Friendly neighborhood Spider-Man and all...” he babbled on lamely, his voice fading in and out as he swung between buildings, keeping up as I hopped from roof to roof.

“Buzz off buggy”, I grumbled before sending another shot his way.

“You’re really bad at paying attention to where I am, aren’t you” Spidey suddenly whispered in my ear. I shrieked and came to a halt, dropping my luggage next to me as I sat to dangle my feet off the ledge of whatever shitty building I was on now. As expected, that lanky ass fool sat down right next to me.

“So, where are you going, miss uh… strange power lady?”

“I don’t kno-” I cut myself off and looked at him strangely. “Wait, why are you even here?”

“Well funny story," he huffed out, looking over at me. His masked eyes contracted as he continued to just look at me in silence for several minutes. I was seconds away from physically shoving him off of the building. For someone who apparently couldn't keep his mouth shut when I wanted him to, he was as silent and one of those monks now when I actually wanted to hear his whiny voice. Then, just as I was about to snap, he lifted his chin and squared his shoulders.

"Have you ever heard of the Avengers?”

Like any normal person on the planet, I obviously had. I may not have been in New York while it was being leveled by aliens over a decade ago, but a person would have to be seriously deprived of outside stimuli to not know who the Avengers were.

Instead of speaking to the impertinent, entirely too perky Avenger at my side, I just glared, sending a message loud enough that even the most inept individual would comprehend me.

“Woah, woah, don’t shoot! You could be like, a really weird and reclusive alien for all I know at this point. The boss didn’t exactly give me all the details when he sent me out to trail you. I don’t even know your name, which tells me that we actually don’t know a whole lot about you…,” he trailed off his rambling as he finally realized I was now staring at him expectantly, waiting to get a word in edgewise.

“My name is Kaida, and I’m not a good person. Also, thanks for the invitation to join your little cult, but I’m going to have to pass.” I stood to leave and find shelter for tonight when all of a sudden a schnick sounded and webbing surrounded my foot, holding me in place.

That sneaky little son of a bitch.

“No can do, we’re going to talk this one out. Either you agree to come in and meet the team or you get to sit here all night and listen to me ramble about them and what ridiculously stupid things we’ve all been up to in the past few months. Your call… Kaida.” He said my name as though it could take form, leap up and bite him.

“Okay Spider, I see you want to play hardball. You take that mask off and I’ll come with you to ‘meet the team’ or whatever touchy-feely bullshit y’all are into over there. But I’m not agreeing without some kind of skin in the game other than my own.” I lifted my chin, triumphantly, secure in the knowledge that he would never reveal his identity to a complete stranger, especially while various factions of the government and private entities were trying to round up enhanced individuals.

Spidey scoffed. “That’s it? It’s not like I was going to leave it on once we got to the tower anyways so, here you go I guess,” and he ripped away his mask as though it didn’t faze him in the slightest.

He was… younger than I had expected. Cute, in a safe, boring schoolboy kind of way.

“What are you, twelve??” I all but shouted at him. There’s no way this kid was the real deal, a bona fide Avenger that had helped save numerous lives, my own included if you count what happened just a few years back.

“I’m twenty-two, thanks though. If I’m twelve, I’ve gotta say you’re a toddler. Granted, a toddler with wicked skills but it’s not like you’re even really an adult at this point, are you? Why aren’t you with your pare-.”

“For one thing, they’re dead. Secondly, I’m twenty but I guarantee you I’ve seen shit that you can’t really even comprehend. Even outside of all the crazy whack alien bullshit you all seem to be attracting. It really ages a person, or so I’ve heard.”

“Oh look at you, pulling the big bad ‘I’m so tough because I’m an orphan and my life wasn’t sunshine and roses’ act. Literally, everyone has bad shit happen to them. From what I’ve just seen and from what we’ve caught on security monitors, you’re wickedly talented and could actually use your powers to help others. Unless you’re too much of a coward, I know we do deal with ‘crazy whack aliens’ and all, but it shouldn’t be hard for a big kid like yourself, huh?”

I had half a mind to blow him off the roof right then and there. Rage swirled in the pit of my gut so violently, I might have vomited had I eaten at all in the past day or so. The wind picked up and began buffeting around the Spider guy and myself, throwing debris from decrepit roof and buildings towards us. All of the shrapnel conveniently avoided my person, but Spidey was dancing back and forth like a puppet on a string.

Deep breaths Kaida, deep breaths. We wouldn’t want another Wizard of Oz-esque incident. Again. I often found myself talking to myself in different perspectives to calm down. Anger, improperly channeled was a very dangerous thing for me, and honestly, I was being a brat just like he was. No need to level an entire city block just for this one intrusive, presumptuous asshat who dressed up like a fucking spider. I wasn’t about to tell him that though.

The wind died down almost immediately. Until it didn’t.

Not a minute later, the biggest bolt of lightning I’d ever seen struck a building a block or so away, no doubt short-circuiting every device plugged in at that residence. Two seconds later there was a solid thunk and next to Spider-Man loomed perhaps the most handsome being in the known universe, Thor. King of Asgard.

“You hit your panic button Man of Spiders. Are you in need of assistance… carrying bags?” Thor looked at you, tied down, and your bags tossed askew, then back at Spidey. Quizzically, he opened his palm and sent a burst of lightning up into the sky, as if looking for something. “All seems to be in perfectly good spirits here, no strange magics… so.”

“Listen, man, two minutes ago she was literally shaking the building so hard I thought we were all going down. I just don’t know how… all I did was ask her some questions, maybe play hardball with her a little,” he just shrugged at the god apologetically.

“Hi, I exist too, and I can speak for myself,” I asserted, repositioning my body so I wasn’t standing quite so hunched over. “We,” I continued, looking at Spidey, “would love your assistance in getting my bags back to wherever this team inspection or meeting is supposed to happen.” Anything to get inside and secure, before I lost it completely.

“As you wish, Lady of the Winds,” Thor almost yelled, thrusting a cane into the sky.

“No, Thor wai-.”

Before the insect could finish whatever he was trying to say, we were engulfed in a kaleidoscope of bright colors and rushed away in the blink of an eye.

So much for having a normal, Wednesday evening.

If you’d like to be tagged in future chapters (I have 28 written) drop me a message or reblog this!! As always, reblogs and comments are appreciated!