#i am so aware of my own irrational ways of thinking but i can’t just turn it off unfortunately 😭

[vessuna]

i got diseases of the brain currently, are people cool with me continuing their ask replies for me as threads … 😭

[thebearer]

Okay-

Carmy’s gf being dropped off at Carmy’s restaurant (after closing) after another girls night, and she’s so drunk that she doesn’t recognize Carmy for a second lol, like he’s going up to take her hand and bring her to his office and he’s all lovey dovey, and picks her up, but she’s just like (as all the staff, and Carmy, are EXTREMELY amused lol) “No no no- I can’t goo with youu, my boyfriend wouldn’t like that *hiccup*, he gets reallyyy jealous sometimes, sometimes he’s mean about it, sometimes he’s so adorable I wanna smush his cheeks, and other times he’s HOT, or all three.” And as they’re all laughing she’s like, “He’d beat you up you know (pointing a finger at Carmy lol) *hiccup*,- he would *giggle* He loooveees me”

Lol Carmy responding, “Yes, yes I would, and yes I do baby”

Also they’re all like “He IS your boyfriend”

i'm doing a full thing on this bc i got inspired lol enjoy. sorta like a spin on the feeling but with a very very drunk reader lol.

"She's fucked." Alicia grumbles, pulling you in, one arm grabbing onto hers, stumbling in your heels.

"Yeah, you're fuckin' tellin' me." Richie muttered. "Cousin, can you come fuckin' get your girl under control?"

"Easy, alright." Carmen sneered, an edge to his tone that was cutting and dangerous. "What'd she drink, huh?"

"I thought it was tequila, but... then it might have been whiskey. I think she mixed which is a dangerous combo." Alicia looked at you, slumped over the table.

"Hey, baby, look at me." Carmen pushed your hair back, trying to pull your eyes open. You mumbled something intelligible, lids fluttering. "What? What did you say? Can you sit up for me, baby?"

"I have a boyfriend." You said harsher this time, eyes still fluttering while Carmen pulled you up.

Carmen blinked, brows furrowed. "Yeah, yeah, I'm aware of that."

"Then you should not be touching me, because if Carmy sees you do that... oh-ho man, he'll punch you in your face." You stated confidently, eyes crossing before focusing on Carmen's face, inches from your own. "You are very cute though. You'll find someone, it's just not gonna be me. But my f-friend... Alicia is single. Go talk to her."

Richie is overly amused, laughing at your expense. "She's fucked! She is gone!"

Carmen rolled his eyes. "Here, let's get you home, ok? We're gonna go home."

"I just told you!" You whined, face crumbling with heightened, irrational emotions. "I am not single! I-I have a boyfriend, and he's very pretty, ok?"

"Very pretty." Richie snickered, barking out a laugh.

"Hey, fuck off." Carmen sneered, rolling his eyes, hoping everyone couldn't see the way you flustered him. "C'mere. Let's go home, alright? Can you stand f'me?"

[sororalice]

On The Blessedness Of Courage

A homily for the Full Moon on October 17, 2024.

Dearly Beloved,

Happy Full Moon!

In this witchiest of months, the movements of the Moon can resonate particularly deeply within us. Our lives can be caught up in the currents of birth, growth, death, and rebirth even more than usual. I know that in my own life, the currents of the magickal and the mundane have become so hopelessly entangled that it impossible to separate them. And while I am quite aware that this is a good thing on a spiritual level, it can also sometimes be very difficult on a personal level.

I’ve been going through an important rite of passage, and through it all I have often found myself frightened. No, let me be honest with you, let me always lead with my vulnerability with you, dear ones: I have been terrified. I have been forced, by the currents I myself set into motion, to either alter or abandon entire ways of being that I have cultivated and practiced most of my life. And throughout this time of change, of death and rebirth, there is one virtue that has helped me more than any other, and it is upon that virtue I am moved to speak today.

Let us speak of the virtue of courage.

Fear is inevitable. Fear is one of the great constants of existence and it can be a great boon to our basic survival. Fear is what tells us to walk faster when that strange man is behind us, fear is what tells us to put on the oven mitts before grabbing the hot dish fresh from the oven, and fear is one of the three primary emotions (the other two being anger and disgust) that tell us when something is just not okay. So in many ways fear is our friend. It gives us important information about the world and protects us from many dangers. Fear is a gift.

But fear can paralyze us.

As I have said, I wish to lead with my vulnerability with you, dear ones. I wish to always be as authentic and honest with you as possible. So I will confess, I have often let my life be ruled by fear. For many years, I have experienced great anxiety in social situations and when leaving the house. Every time I have to run an errand or even go live on camera in a Zoom meeting, my body pours sweat, my heartbeat races, and I want nothing more than to run away and hide. Fear is one of my oldest friends and worst enemies, both protecting and imprisoning me. There is a part of my mind that tells me that the world isn’t safe, and honestly, as a queer, transgender, disabled, neurodivergent woman in a modern USA filled with hate crimes and mass shootings, the world isn’t safe. My mind isn’t lying to me and my fears are not irrational. I can’t make myself leave the house by telling myself that I am being silly and that the world is safe, because it just isn’t.

So how do I leave the house? How do I make myself do all the things a modern priestess and occultist has to do to make her life work? How do I bring myself to pour out my heart and soul every week on this blog, even though I know that my earnestness is largely considered “cringe” in our culture and that most people are just going to laugh at me (or worse)? Hell, how do I get groceries?

In a word, courage.

Courage is what allows me to go to the grocery store. Courage is what allows me to go to the constant cycle of doctor’s appointments and trips to the pharmacy that is the life of a disabled person. Courage is what allowed me to transition and to walk in a hostile world as a transgender woman. Courage is just as much my constant friend as fear, and courage is what ends up rebutting most of the arguments my fearful mind throws up to stop me from doing the things I need to do.

But what, truly, is courage?

Many people think that courage is the absence of fear. They think that if one feels fear at all that one is a coward. But the philosopher Aristotle and many other people who have thought very hard about the issue since have generally agreed that courage is not the absence of fear at all. In fact, courage is defined (as are all virtues) as a mean between two extremes. Fear lays on a spectrum. On one end of the fear spectrum, we have cowardice, which is indulgence in fear to the point that it paralyzes you and prevents you from doing what you need to do. On the other end we have foolhardiness, which is ignoring fear to the degree that you ignore danger entirely, even to the point of actually seeking it out. Notice that both ends of this spectrum are an indulgence—it is tempting to go to either extreme—and that true courage is neither extreme, but a place of dialogue between them. We must seek and find the place that acknowledges and accounts for danger while also doing what we must to accomplish our missions in life. We have a right and responsibility to protect ourselves, but we must also be willing to take risks in order to do what must be done.

Now, how does the virtue of courage apply to my primary topic on this blog, the living of the spiritual life? Well, the spiritual life is scary. We are constantly being pushed past our old limits, constantly being asked by the Divine to change and grow beyond ourselves, and constantly being held responsible for both ourselves and our actions in the sight of both the Divine and our communities. We are asked to go down into the Underworld to die and be reborn, again and again, every year, every month, and every night. Yes, the Great Work, the ongoing theophoric relationship with the Divine that heals us and helps us grow, is the most important thing we can do with our lives…and it is terrifying.

So what can we do? How can we bring ourselves to challenge our fear and to live in courage, even when our world makes it very difficult? Well, as mages and mystics we have options that many people do not. We have our relationships with our deities and ally spirits and our relationship with the Divine as a whole. We also have our relationships with others in our spiritual communities, which can be so important both as a comfort and as a part of our growth. And, perhaps most importantly, we have our relationship with ourselves, the constant awareness of ourselves as embodied spiritual beings who must make choices that have meaning.

Yes, each and every one of these different types of relationship can bring us difficult moments. After all, we have to live up to all of those relationships and do right by all of those people, including ourselves. But those relationships are also at the heart of what motivates the spiritual life. We want to see and be seen, to know and to be known. It is this primal urge that brought our ancestors to reach out to the world around them, to reach out and discover the deities and spirits around us, and it is this same primal urge that we must trust to bring us through the fear, through our moments of death and rebirth, and finally take us to the other side.

It is also a blessing that we may join together and find courage, that we can hold each others hands in the dark. I take great refuge in my marriage, my spiritual community (that’s you, dear ones), and my relationships with my deities and ally spirits. It is thanks to these people (yes, deities and spirits are people, too) that I can find my way through the dark and back into the light.

So let us reach out to the Divine, dear siblings, to our deities and allies. Let us reach out to each other in love. Let us look out at that big, scary world and find within ourselves the strength to reach out, even when we are terrified. Let us have faith in ourselves and each other.

Let us have courage.

Happy Full Moon.

In love,

Soror Alice

Art: John Everett Millais, “Joan Of Arc”, (1865)

[jewishtwig]

hi, im starting the conversion process and i have 3 concerns about it i was wondering if i could get your opinion on bc i feel like there isn’t a huge online jewish community and especially not for converts (but it’s fine if you don’t have anything to say i get it)

the first is that im struggling to figure out how to tell my family about my want to convert. i was raised atheist and am honestly still pretty atheist/agnostic, just not completely. my father is a climate scientist who is very anti-religion in general (but mostly generalizes all religion as christian, you know, as ppl do), and i’m worried he’ll think it’s a phase, because once when he was around my age he started attending church for a girl he was dating only to abandon it later and regret it totally. i don’t think he’s antisemitic but i don’t think he’ll be super enthused in general about me wanting to be jewish just bc it means i’d be religious

the second one is that i was invited to visit a synagogue near me for shabbat services and i’m really looking forward to it, but i looked on their website and said they want all men who visit to wear a kippah regardless of whether or not they are jewish. do you think it would be inappropriate to buy one of my own instead of using one of the ones they offer at the synagogue if i just wore it while visiting for services?

finally (sorry this is a lot i might just need to get it out of my system tbh), i talked to a rabbi (as mentioned above) and she told me to convert with any synagogue in my state i’d need to take a very specific intro to judaism course that doesn’t start until almost a year from now. is it irrational to be upset i have to wait so long? i was sitting on the idea of reaching out to a rabbi about conversion for almost a year, so to finally do it and be told i just have to wait more, after i get the guts to stop waiting, kinda sucks. but i’m worried if i express my concerns to the rabbi she’ll interpret that as me being too eager and impatient?? i’m not sure

Hello! No need to apologize! It’s an important thing to consider. I’m glad you found an answer on my blog already 😊

There is actually a surprisingly large online community of converts and converts in progress! (I’ll make a poll about it in a bit because now I’m curious.)

Okay on to your first second question, I don’t think it would necessarily be inappropriate per say but I wouldn’t advise it yet for a couple of reasons.

1. You don’t know what style of kippah you like yet and wearing the ones they provide is a good way to test them out.

2. You’re not going to be wearing it outside of shul and they have them there for you for free.

3. There are many different styles and sizes and this community may have a style they prefer that you aren’t aware of yet. (That’s not to say you can’t wear other styles but it’s something to consider)

4. You don’t need to. They have them there for you to use.

5. A secret fifth thing I can’t quite put my finger on which makes this feel not quite right to me. 

Next question, it’s definitely not irrational to be upset. That’s a very rational feeling to have. However, conversion is a long process. For many people, it takes several years because of things like waiting for classes or a Rabbi to be available. Conversion is a lifetime commitment. If you have to wait one more year and then get to be Jewish for the rest of your life, is it worth it to you?

You can tell the Rabbi if you want, but if that’s the only class and it’s required, then it is what it is.

[never-gon-be-enough]

Hi. I’m here.

I’m… struggling?

Why?

What’s eating me alive…

The thought.

I’ve asked you not to be on your phone as much when I’m around but the fact that you do as soon as I turn my back kills me.

Why’d I ask? Because when you were too shut down to be all in with me you weren’t too shut down to text and snap this girl. The entire time we were out of town. Together. In person. But as if you were on the trip alone? As if I was never there? Why do you hide me? And why does she hide her person?

It’s because she likes you. And maybe she will never act on those feelings but I feel you live a life without me when it comes to her… and that gives you a taste of what life would be without me. But why? Because she fears me? Because I make her uncomfortable? Why do I make her uncomfortable? Because she is 20? Or because she’s aware of how she feels? Only you are too excited and defensive to see it. So instead you cater to it. Not with your LD best friend though. You include me to her. I’m part of those conversations… so why not these ones?

I know it all sounds so irrational. And I always preface my concerns with the notion that I know these are my own insecurities. Which I do know. But I give you all the power in those moments. If I make myself bad and unreasonable, all you have to do it agree. When?? I know with all of my being… that she wants you or at the very least likes you. You always say “not everyone sees me the way that you do”. And I’m not saying that everyone else does. I am just saying that she does.

Your snap score… climbing. And I’m watching it. Too closely. Too fucking closely. I don’t want to feel like this. I just wish she would disappear. I want her to go away.

But no. You choose her. You reply to her and leave me unopened. You respond every time to every text when the conversation is nothing but shit. You become someone I do not know. You choose to spend that time with her instead of me. You’ll hate me the next time you decide to do that. Because as cool as I am trying to be… I don’t feel cool.

I thought about it for the first time last night. It made me sick to think. But for some reason, I just know what I’ll find. You letting it go. Wanting a friend more than accepting she is flirting with you. And she takes it as you flirting back.

No friends talk that much. I’m just saying.

I feel like I’m going crazy but I can’t pretend that my gut is not churned. There is nothing I can do to make you want me more. There is nothing I can do to make you want me like I want you. I feel crazy and helpless. So that’s just what I well be.

[yep-yep]

I feel insane for remembering these conversations that don’t mean anything because I’m sure she forgot them within 24 hours and here I am 6 months later and I still do.

Are you sure you want me to move in it’ll put a lot of extra stress on our relationship.

If it’s too much I can move out and it won’t change our relationship?

And we’ll make it work no matter what?and if we can’t we’ll find a therapist.

You’re not one of those people who get tired of princess treatment and lowkey like to be treated like crap

Is it ok that I do photography,shoot, do urban exploring,have friends over, go out with friends on occasion,host parties, and I’d like to get a dog.

You said yes but not a single thing was okay and you acted like I was crazy and constantly rubbed it in and were a hypocrite about.

Are you sure you’re ready to settle down you’re really young?

*watching lalaland* Is that going to be us?

I’m looking for something serious and mature are you?

I’ll stick around when your depression gets bad

If I ever cheat on you you should leak my nudes

I’m okay with doing all the work and taking all the risk for both of us as long as you’re appreciative and stay loyal.

I don’t need a 50/50 relationship just 90/10. Which I personally feel isn’t a ton to ask for.

Watching tv isn’t quality time and you won’t remember it. Also you said you wanted to live life.

I am cool moving out and I think it’ll be good to slow down also going to quit the church and get an apartment near by.

Your Dad offered me a job, if I take it we can get engaged quicker but obviously it’ll mean less time together so I wanted to see which you wanted.

Yeah you can keep the necklace and ring just give it back before you run off with another guy.

But as you said it’s “not like that”

“I could never get tired of you Josh “

Most people just use me for 6 months and then move on once they’re healed.

Which in your case idk where you landed but I sure did give you a god complex if it wasn’t already there sleeping.

Not to mention the dozens of dates we had planned and trips but suddenly I move in and you can’t even be bothered. It was all a trap 🪤.

So you having made all of these decisions and told all of these lies and then once I feel miserable and we end up in a one sided relationship where you contribute nothing but take and drain constantly by creating issues. It was bad enough when it was just at home but then you take it with us. You start a fight and I sit in the car to avoid it and you have your family thinking I’m leaving without you as if that has ever even remotely happened.

What happened to the girl who drove me to work at 3am in an ice storm? That girl was a good person. She was loyal,independent, smart and emotionally aware, mature, hard working.

Then two months in you completely switch

You clearly never cut anyone off since you’re still entertaining a whole group chat despite being damn near engaged.

You sigh and roll your eyes and act like I’m bothering you just for asking for your help with anything like I haven’t done everything for you.

You went from allegedly going out to eat alone to not even being able to bathe or cook alone.

I don’t think you were less smart but you became more irrational.

To not being able to talk about feelings without crying or exploding screaming to the point our only way of resolving fights was over text but then it got even worse and we just swept it under the rug.

To having toddler tantrums when something doesn’t go your way or your phone game pisses you off.

Then come March you had no job but couldn’t even clean your own house.

Which is crazy bc I put up with it all as long as you didn’t treat me like shit.

Then have the audacity to cry when I told you I haven’t been able to reach my dad. You don’t feel bad. You don’t have a conscience. You can’t say this isn’t easy for me. You can’t say you want to see me but it’s “hard” right now.

You put me where I was and you put our relationship where it was. And I was the one paying the consequences.

[feelingunfulfilled]

Just learned what covert avoidance is and honestly I’m surprised it’s never once been mentioned to me by therapists or family or education. It’s linked strongly to conditions of anxiety and depression, with the main symptoms being afraid of judgement and how others perceive you. Feeling like your a bystander in your own life, feeling unfulfilled and worried of being vulnerable because you don’t want criticism. Like HELLO??? Why isn’t this common knowledge??

For a long while I didn’t even recognize my own fear of judgement. It took a mental breakdown on Christmas Day before I finally discovered what that restless internal fear was. If I had been taught these things earlier, maybe I wouldn’t have felt so troubled and anxious. And now, two years after the fact, only NOW am I becoming aware of this disorder?

How is it that my depression is more diagnosable then my own anxiety? Is it simply because I never felt comfortable enough to go into the details? Well then that’s kinda fucked up, isn’t it? If my anxiety actively makes me TERRIFIED of being vulnerable and judged, of course I’m going to struggle being transparent with people! Of course I won’t get a genuine diagnosis, and I’ll end up doing all the work on my own!

I’m not frustrated by it, but more so bewildered? Like…how is it that I never ONCE came across this crucial information which better defines how I’ve been feeling? It’s like discovering my asexuality and accepting myself as aromatic. Those labels help me properly express a personal experience to those who haven’t felt that way. It helps me greatly to use this vocabulary and be as specific and detailed as possible.

Of course (unfortunately) this won’t be recognized as a proper diagnosis unless I bring it up in conversation, but like??? Why am I suddenly the one who has to have all the vocabulary sorted out ahead of time instead of the other way around. Isn’t the therapist meant to give me the vocabulary for my experience rather then me introducing it to them?? Idk I guess that’s the point of sharing information. But it kinda feels strange knowing there is specific micro labels within anxiety and NO ONE bothered to walk me through the many common anxiety’s.

At this rate, I think the video game Adventures With Anxiety did a better job laying out an introduction to the anxieties which greatly effect lives. Sometimes we feel held back and controlled by these irrational fears, and it’s seriously debilitating for some people. Some who can’t even bring themselves to socialize or get out of the house. It’s such a SERIOUS issue and it kinda baffles me that no one has explained it in a cohesive way? There have been attempts to say “yeah we all have anxiety and it’s scary sometimes” but that’s not really getting to the ROOT CAUSES of it. Within the game Adventures With Anxiety, there is a moment where the player gets to sit and discuss there prominent fears of being unloved, fear of being harmed, and fear of being a terrible person. These fears are what fuel the anxiety. And I think many anxieties can be pin pointed into those specific categories.

Because truth is, anxiety takes on many forms. And it effects people differently depending on what fear is most prominent. Without subconscious awareness of these deeper fear which bring anxiety to life, how else are we meant to deal with them??? I guess that’s what exposure therapy is meant for, but I’ve always been terrified of perusing that because that’s EXACTLY what triggers my anxiety. Yes, we all need to face these fears head on and confront them if we want any progress out of it. But if I don’t get a firm idea of what’s going on with anxiety, then you can’t expect me to take that leap of faith. I need to process it and understand the full scope of it. Not blindly trust you

Update: now I’m doing more research into the distinction between social anxiety and Avoidant Personality Disorder (AVPD), as well as distinctions between those and covert avoidance. There is also overt anxiety to research, as it seems to be different then covert in some aspects

[strangepathshikingclub]

Cw final fusion (as far as I can tell)

When we “fused” last spring, it was more the start of a process. Every now and then, I’d split someone off and we’d just hang out for a few hours until they left. Sometimes it would be someone new, sometimes it would be someone familiar— Glitch often returned. Sara came in once, and it took all of my willpower not to drop all of my schoolwork and cuddle with her. Starting around December, though, I think the process completed.

It’s been quiet. I feel like I’m the source of all of my thoughts, and this is an experience that is profoundly alien to me. It’s… comforting, in some ways? I no longer have to work to discern which of my thoughts are mine and which aren’t. It’s kind of lonely. I don’t feel lonely as a baseline, mind you, but sometimes I find myself scrolling through our personal Discord server and looking at the messages, wishing everyone stuck around. I loved them, I really did. I still do. I know a lot of systems that manage final fusion feel this intense sense of wholeness, but it’s less so for me. Partially because I didn’t have long to get to know any of my teammates in the first place. Partially because— and this has been confirmed through our own fusion— none of my missing memories were held by any person. They’re just gone. (My personal theory is that it’s something to do with our ADHD. Can’t exactly manage to hold on to several sets of memories when keeping even one together is almost impossible, after all.)

It’s also a weird mix of validating and invalidating. Our fusion matches no typical medical model. Usually it takes years. Usually it takes therapy. As for us? I met everyone and combined with them within the course of about 5 months, if you skip the in-between phase during last year. I only had about a week to say goodbye to everyone.

At the same time, I can feel how different my mind feels. There are only a handful of times I’ve felt like this in my life, most of them before the trauma happened. This proves that we were a system long before we were aware of it. For example, until now I’ve never had a breakdown where it didn’t feel as though my train of thought had become a noisy argument. All of the sudden, I am responsible both for creating and dismissing all of my stress-induced thoughts.

I still don’t always recognize myself in the mirror. But now it’s more of a gender thing. When introducing myself, I’m not seized by the seemingly irrational fear that I’ll give the wrong name. I am myself, and now only myself, and I will have to live with that.

[phoenixyfriend]

Vader Tries to Help

People encouraged me to share the dead dove concept! Yay! It’s a horrible concept with an undertone of comedic absurdity in the sense that you keep waiting to see what awful, incredibly stupid thing Vader is going to do next. Like it’s horrifying but it’s also very dumb.

By moving forward into the fic, you acknowledge that this is intended to be dark and liable to be upsetting, and that you are taking responsibility for your own engagement with the material.

This AU was helped along on discord by several parties but tbh I’m not sure how many of them actually want to be named.

Warnings: Mutual Extremely Dubious Consent (forced by a third party), drugging, irrational behavior (Vader), nonconsensual body modification, forced pregnancy, imprisonment, threatened torture of a child (not followed through on)

----------

Vader captures Obi-Wan a few years into the Empire. Because Vader is Anakin, but even worse on the emotional bullshit, he decides that he needs to keep Obi-Wan safe but harmless. Vader also got Luke in the whole 'capturing Kenobi' situation, so part of what Vader's thinking about all this is that Obi-Wan tried to protect The Baby and so Vader kind of owes him, obviously.

Palpatine lets him keep Obi-Wan "safe," because threatening Obi-Wan is a convenient way to make Vader shut up and do what he's told. Palpatine can kind of tell that threatening the toddler would make Vader lose his shit and attempt to kill good ol' Palps, so threatening the middle-aged depressed alcoholic being kept in Vader's guest room with Force-nullifying cuffs is pretty good. It's an additional layer of emotional torture on top of the electrocution of Vader himself!

Vader has Obi-Wan taking care of Luke, mostly, because Vader has Obligations and A Job, and Obi-Wan wouldn't hurt Luke, duh. He might try to escape with the kid, but he won't be successful, and Obi-Wan will definitely put Luke's safety first, so that probably won't happen.

This is all fairly normal for a variety of AUs, granted, and not very dark.

But see, Obi-Wan behaves. He's aware of how tenuous the situation is for him and his charge, so he plays nice. And Vader decides to reward that.

By giving him Cody.

There's an implied thought process there that Obi-Wan was fond of Cody, and Cody was fond back, and now that the Jedi aren't around, they can follow through instead of worrying about some silly Code. Vader's nullified the orders to kill all the Jedi, of course, possibly dosed their food with an aphrodisiac so they don't try to talk themselves out of What They Obviously Want.

Now, we’re going to make it a little darker, because why not make things worse by having Vader try to make things better?

Vader somehow twisted himself around to encouraging them to have a baby. This is accomplished through a combination of Sith Magic and nonconsensual surgery, and lots of questionable drugs.

Obi-Wan just wakes up in a hospital bed with a womb one morning, and is informed of the surgery then and there, after it’s already happened. The droid telling him about it is just like "in the Lord Vader's infinite kindness--" and Obi-Wan just.

Anakin.

What the fuck.

What in the actual fuck made you think this was a good idea.

(The Sith Chemicals, probably.)

I feel like Palpatine would maybe even order the pregnancy induction just to torture them by proxy because that's like eight levels of Fuck No and he barely has to do anything except tell Vader that he'd like to see what kind of children a Jedi Master like Obi-Wan has.

Luke needs friends, doesn't he?

Obi-Wan is having some very complicated emotions about all of this because Vader is, in his own absolutely insane way, trying to help.

Anakin wanted babies and Padme wanted babies so clearly, if Obi-Wan and Cody are in love, then they also want babies!

Cody and Obi-Wan very well might not be in love. Anakin definitely could have misinterpreted. It’s probably more angsty if they're just friends who ended up in this bullshit together.

(He's taking baby fever to new and somewhat horrifying heights, because... he would adore Obi's kids.)

(His family button is suprisingly large for a mass murderer.)

Vader Kindly Informs Bail That Obi-Wan Is Alive And Unharmed. Bail was a friend of Obi-Wan's, telling him this is only helpful and will keep Alderaan from getting more rebellious out of personal insult. Obviously.

Vader is almost offended when Bail implies he might hurt Obi-Wan. He kept his son safe, he owes him. Speaking of, don’t you have a child? How old is she, again? It would be Good for her to make friends, wouldn’t it? :)

Palpatine is just like... sitting back and eating evil popcorn as Vader runs around, ruining people's lives by trying to be less of The Worst than before.

Palps barely has to do anything, Anakin's fucking it up on his own!

Could have been just a sly "Kenobi is so attached to young Luke, but now that you've been reunited with your son, perhaps he'd be happier with a child of his own?" Come at it from both "make Obi-Wan happy" and "protect your relationship with Luke" angles.

Vader: I can't have babies anymore due to what you did to me on Mustafar. Obi-Wan: So you're punishing me by forcing me to have them instead? Vader: No! Children are a gift that you have been cruelly denied by the Order that held us in its chains! Obi-Wan: ...oh, right, you're insane. Forgot about that. Somehow.

Big dramatic speech about how the Jedi Order spent so long making them take lives, he’s giving Obi-Wan a chance to create it! To put something good and bright into the world!

Poor Cody is like. "General, I am very fond of you but I'm having a million panic attacks at the same time because of the mind control, and also Vader is under the impression that we're in love and I need to be your stud? I wasn't aware you could have children--" "I can't. Or at least, I couldn't, but Anakin is... creative." "...what."

I don't want to actually objectify Cody in the narrative past the point that Obi-Wan himself is, because nnnnngh racism and clone stuff, so I'm going to say Cody was in love with Obi-Wan, and would have been okay with at least discussing the whole baby schtick if not for the absolutely horrible circumstances.

Like if the war had ended normally, and Obi-Wan had expressed a desire to retire, unlikely as that was, then Cody may have suggested a dinner, and they could have gotten married and then eventually adoption...

(Cody had a lot of fantasies he didn’t let himself think about too hard.)

But no. It's this... weird Vader-inspired bullshit.

I'm just so invested in Vader trying to help but making things legitimately a million times worse.

He wants to help :) Oh god, he wants to help.

Why aren't people more appreciative of how hard I'm helping them? - the Anakin Skywalker story

With less time to stew and also getting handed what he wants, Vader could absolutely flip on a dime the second he saw Luke being protected, and go from “I hate you” to remembering that Obi-Wan said he loved him, and now he must keep Obi-Wan safe out of debt and he just... he’s playing house. 

Vader throws Obi-Wan a baby shower after the pregnancy is confirmed. Bail is invited, because Obi-Wan doesn't have a lot of friends still alive. Vader decides Bail is top of the Obi-Wan’s Friends List.

This is the first time they've seen each other in two years. Obi-Wan is heavily pregnant despite Bail knowing full well he didn't have the plumbing for that before the Empire rose. Cody is there and emotionally exhausted but more lucid than most troopers. Luke is running up to Leia because New Friend!!!

....there may be MORE of the 212th and 501st at the baby shower, with “kill all Jedi” orders revoked, of course. But it will keep the children safe!! And Cody and Obi-Wan can see their surviving friends!!

Cody: I'd be much happier to see my surviving troopers if they didn't all still have chips in their heads. Obi-Wan: I feel much the same. Vader: [404 error]

Bail and his family might be there at blaster point, but aren't you happy to see them, Obi-Wan??

Obi-Wan's endless trauma is honestly somewhat curtailed by the incessant need to facepalm at Vader’s bullshit

Obi-Wan and Cody both outwardly have a very "there are much worse people I could be stuck with in this situation but obviously I wish I'd had a choice, no hard feelings" attitude at each other.

Internally, Cody is suffering because this is NOT how he wanted his crush to be realized, and Obi-Wan is just suffering, period.

Cody: How did he even choose which of us ends up pregnant? Obi-Wan: He thinks I need to be protected, and that he needs to keep me safe. Cody: ...he does realize that you're better at-- Obi-Wan: Cody, he's completely lost it. No! He doesn't realize!

I feel like over the course of the year or two this plot unravels towards Palpatine getting murder-deposed and Anakin getting locked down, part of the driving force to Vader not being Vader anymore is that Luke actually really loves Uncle Obi and always starts fussing and going "Ben's sad" whenever Vader dismisses what Obi-Wan wants in favor of what Vader thinks Obi-Wan wants, and Vader can't deny his child anything.

Luke cries because Palpatine Feels Wrong like, once or twice, and Anakin goes “oh, okay, assassination time.”

[sleeping-on-cracking-ice]

Hello! Im glad i made it on time for request! T^TI would like to request a chishiya x female reader. Where the female reader is strong and intelligent and chishiya just basically falls in love with her. He tries to get close with but apparently reader doesn't live in beach she lives in her own homemade house. So chishiya tries really hard to find her.

Of course, here you go! 🥰

Search | Shuntaro Chishiya

{Alice In Borderland Masterlist}

Character(s): Chishiya

Summary: Chishiya searches all through Tokyo to find you, who he met at a game and fell for instantly.

Warnings: swearing, somewhat creepy behaviour from Chishiya, violence

Word Count: 2.2k

*reader is female

Author’s Note: sorry I closed requests for so long! They’re open again now for a few days so please send in anything you want me to write! ❤

The dark streets of Tokyo echoed the sounds of the wind travelling through the trees. The silence that filled the atmosphere was deafening, leaving Chishiya to nothing but his wandering thoughts that pottered so carelessly through his head. The occasional cry of a crow kept him grounded, always bringing him back to the reality that was in front of him.

The young man was taking yet another attempt of finding the peculiar and alluring figure that he had encountered at many games. No one had ever taken his interest as much as this, and even if they had, he would’ve given up at finding them for the fact that they live in the huge empty wasteland that is Tokyo. Any nook and cranny could have the chance of being your home, but Chishiya was determined to find you. He didn’t have anything else to do anyway. But now that he’s taken interest in you, he finally has something to work towards rather than just waiting around to die at The Beach.

He strolled effortlessly through the Shibuya crossing, recognizing the place from when he was first thrown into the game, always returning to the large open area to use as a safe space. Even after being in the game for as long as he had, it still felt foreign to see not a single soul crossing the road, very unlike usual Tokyo.

The only source of light he had to assist him was a small torch he took from The Beach and the occasional game sign pointing to some late running games. He felt unsettled every time he entered an area where no light was available, and the silence didn’t help.

“Tch,” he scoffed to himself, rubbing his sleeves over his eyes to keep them from dropping from how tired he was. He had been at it for weeks, not even getting the slightest clue where you stayed in the huge city.

“This is ridiculous, as if I haven’t found her yet.” He was becoming more and more frustrated as each night dragged on. All he wanted was to meet you in person that wasn’t in the registration section of a game, where he wasn’t even sure either of you would leave alive.

After being saved by you during a hearts game, Chishiya developed an irrational attraction to your selfless and strong demeanour. He admired the fact that you managed to look after yourself and others at the same time, always thinking of an intelligent way to make sure that everyone survived. He was impressed and taken back, for he had never met or encountered anyone like you.

Chishiya strutted over to a large building near the Shibuya crossing that displayed a screen pointing towards a game. He had to sit down for a while, he had been walking for hours and his legs were beginning to hurt. He shivered and pulled his hoodie tighter around him as he walked through the entrance of the building to find that place nearly trashed all through. Obviously some people had attempted to search the building for resources to assist in their survival.

He slowly made his way further into the building, being mindful of the shards of glass and other debris that scattered the floor. The last thing he wanted was the trip of something and ended up with sharp glass shards in his back.

Chishiya entered a large room that almost seemed untouched. Much unlike the other rooms, this room was clean and no furniture was turned over. He frowned, wondering why no one had bothered to search this room.

“Huh, must have missed it,” he answered his own question. He walked to the centre of the room and sat on a small brown couch that was placed there, rather inconveniently. The layout of the room was very scattered and random resources such as water bottles and empty cans of beans and tuna were laying around on every surface.

The cans of food looked awfully too clean to have been left there for long. The leftover specs of food remaining appeared fresh, and the smell of tuna was far from smelling off. Chishiya moved his tired eyes around the room, trying to find any more evidence of someone being there recently. His eyes locked on a small pile of blankets and pillows in the corner of the room, all bunched up together to create a comfy nest almost.

The pile seemed a bit too lumpy to be holding only blankets, so Chishiya’s curiosity got the better of him and he stood slowly to make his way over to the makeshift bed. He thought maybe someone was hiding some more food underneath it, probably planning to return some other time to collect them.

He kneeled down next to the pile, scanning the small space. His eyes widened as he saw the blanket move, slowly lifting up and down incredibly slightly. He almost stepped back in shock, but decided against it and lifted his hand slowly to lift the duvet.

He grasped the soft material and carefully pulled it back towards himself. His breath became caught in his throat when he locked eyes with what was underneath it.

There you laid, peacefully sleeping and tucked into yourself. Your legs were folded and against your torso with your arms lying lazily next to your head. You looked so vulnerable and small, especially since Chishiya just found you hiding from the world underneath a blanket. He assumed that you covered yourself so if someone was to find your hiding space, they wouldn’t see you and potentially hurt you.

Chishiya couldn’t help himself. After seeing you become so aggressive and resilient in games, seeing you so calm and at peace pulled at his heart strings. He knew it was wrong, intruding on you while you weren’t aware he was even there, but he knew that he wouldn’t ever hurt you.

His heart hurt from the sight of you holding yourself in a tight ball, obviously being anxious that something would happen while you were asleep. He pouted and tilted his head, examining you closely.

“So pretty,” he whispered. But just as the words left his mouth, his stomach dropped when he saw your eyes snap open and lock directly onto him.

Before he could even think, you had swung a fist at his face, punching him square in the jaw, making him yell in pain as he backed away while squatting on his legs so he could get up and run if he had to. He held his face in his hands, trying to reduce the pain throbbing in his jaw.

“What the fuck?!” you exclaimed, standing up out of your bundle of blankets. “Fucking creep! Piss off!”

Chishiya groaned and glanced up towards you, noticing that you were now standing over his meek body on the ground. You held a small knife in your hands, pointing the sharp object towards him in case he made any sudden movements.

Chishiya’s usual smug smirk crawled onto his face, making your frown more as he stood up slowly, hands held up in surrender. “Wow, feisty,” he chuckled.

Your angry expression softened and you lowered your weapon slightly as the bright moonlight shined through the window and painted across Chishiya’s face. You immediately recognized him as the young, white-haired man that always assisted you at games. But what was he doing here?

“What do you want?” you glowered, taking a few threatening steps towards him. Chishiya raised his eyebrows, but kept his composed behaviour as your weapon pressed lightly on his chest, making him wince slightly as the sharp point pierced his skin through his white shirt.

“Rude. I don’t even get a hello? A how are you? All I get is a knife in my face,” he smugly responded. “You did that to yourself by watching me sleep like a fucking stalker,” you hissed, leaning your face closer to his.

“I guess so,” he sneered. “By the way, I wouldn’t kill me if you were considering it. Trust me, I’m not on my own.”

You felt ridiculed by his calm behaviour, hating how he didn’t seem threatened by you at all. Out of all the people you’ve scared off, why did this skinny, short man have more nerve than anyone else?

“I wasn’t counting on it,” you reassured. You pulled back your knife slightly, but still kept it drawn in your hand in case he tried anything. You may have met him a few times in games, but trust was very hard to earn from anyone in the Borderlands.

“So, Y/N,” he started. “I’ve been searching for you for a while now. I’m glad I’ve finally found you.”

You scowled at his words. “Me? What could someone like you possibly want from me?” You watched as his pink lips curled up into a smirk, making you cringe slightly.

Chishiya turned away from you and strolled back over to the brown lounge in the middle of the room. He leaned comfortably on the back of it, facing you again. You had lowered your knife, feeling reassured now that he was further away.

“I’ve noticed you,” he started, staring holes into your eyes. You raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue. “You know how to handle yourself in games, and I can’t help but become a little immersed in your methods.”

The way he spoke gave you a headache. He sounded too smart for his own good, making you question if he was bluffing just to trick you into believing that you were needed, when he would just use you then leave you in the dust.

“Yeah? And what about it?” you asked, crossing your arms over your chest.

Chishiya looked down to the ground and tucked his hands into his pockets. “I would very much appreciate it if you joined me,” he suggested. “I am staying at a hotel called ‘The Beach’, but everyone there is an idiot. If you are willing to put your trust into me, I promise that I will help you collect all the cards and escape this place.”

You kept your gaze on him, trying to see any sign that he may be lying. If he was lying, he was incredibly good at it.

“What’s the catch?” you asked, fiddling with your knife.

“There is none. Only the fact that I’m asking you to join forces with hundreds of idiotic, drunks that act like children.”

There was a moment of silence before Chishiya continued.

“But I can reassure you, if you stick by me, I will be sure to keep you safe and alive.”

You rolled your eyes at his promise. “I don’t need your protection. Look at you, you’re skin and bones. I can take care of myself.” You turned back to your pile of blankets, lifting them to search for your radio that had become lost in the sheets during the night.

Chishiya thought to himself, trying to think of something to say that would convince you to come back with him to The Beach. He couldn’t downright say that he was in love with you, because it would probably scare you off. If he wanted to have a chance with you, he first had to gain your trust. But that was deemed difficult when he was the shady character that he is.

“There’s food and water at The Beach,” he spoke up, making you freeze in your movements and turn back towards him. “There’s comfy beds and personal rooms, as well as allies and guaranteed protection from militants. If you really want to survive, you’d be best there more than out here by yourself.”

You stared at him before glancing around the room, eyes landing on the scattered cans of food and random dirty clothes everywhere. You would admit, you were lonely, and hungry, and cold.

“What makes me sure I can trust you, Chishiya?” you challenged.

Chishiya stepped away from the sofa and walked over to you, making you stand up from your position on the ground so you were at eye level.

“Because you have no other choice,” he smugly stated, “You’re lucky enough for it to only be me to walk in here and find you. Just think about it, if I can find you, so can a group of murderous people, or starving people, or people desperate for cards.”

He had a good point. You hated that you were falling prey to his manipulation, but if The Beach was even slightly better than the dirt hole you were inhabiting, you were interested enough to at least take a look.

“Okay,” you mumbled, turning away from him and leaning down to pick up the small backpack that laid next to your bed. “I’ll come, but if I find out you’re lying or trying to have me killed, it’ll be your head hanging from a lamppost in Shibuya.”

Chishiya smiled at your threat, not being affected by your violent words. “That’s the kind of talk that will get you killed Y/N,” he warned, turning around and making his way towards the entrance of the building. “Keep that up, you might be the one losing a head.”

You groaned and rolled your eyes at his warning.

Chishiya smiled to himself as he stepped out into the cold night air. He could finally relax, knowing he found you and would now be able to keep you in his sight at all times. Even if he had to tell a few fibs to make you come with him, he believes it was worth it, as now he could stay by your side.

He knew it would be a work in progress to earn your trust eventually, but he would make sure that you always trusted him over anyone else.

[a-crimson-lion]

The Past Is Present (In All The Wrong Ways…)

So I saw that @elflynns-horde-of-stuff wanted to talk about BNHA 319, and I was going to send her and ask, but then I let my thoughts go on too long, so… everyone gets this gigantic brain dump. Enjoy :D

[Fair warning: no immediate Bakubashing, but it does come in later. I’m not joking, if you don’t like that, AVOID it. Please. Thank you.]

Now there’s a LOT to unpack with this chapter, and I might not be able to put all of it in words, so let me try and boil it down to what I believe is the core issue:

People are recognizing Midoriya’s bulls*** without recognizing Bakugo’s bulls***.

[TL;DR at the very end, just so you know.]

Which, let me be clear, is completely fair. I like Midoriya as a character, he’s obviously one of my favorites, but hoo BOY am I sick and tired of the s*** he has to go through and the s*** he’s pulling! I understand he’s going through a lot of stress right now and he doesn’t want anyone else to get hurt, but from a completely professional standpoint, that is LITERALLY THE JOB. His other friends are literally HEROES (in training) that have also been through their fair share of UNREALISTIC EXPECTATIONAL BULLS*** BECAUSE OF SHONEN LOGIC, so realistically trying to protect them, while noble, does kinda come off as insulting. And I get the whole savior complex thing, because the whole “its my responsibility, let me handle it” isn’t entirely irrational on its own.

The previous holders of OFA more or less signed up for the responsibility.

Nana Shimura signed up for the responsibility, not her family.

Toshinori Yagi signed up for the responsibility, not his friends and (found) family.

Izuku Midoriya signed up for the responsibility, not his mom, not his friends.

...except AFO isn’t just targeting OFA, though that is a big priority on his to-do list.

Except AFO, as a villain, isn’t just OFA’s responsibility.

Except even if innocent people can’t and shouldn’t be brought in the crossfire, Midoriya’s friends aren’t civilians. A good bulk of Midoriya’s allies aren’t civilians. They’re heroes. They signed up for this. Maybe not taking on an ancient evil like AFO, but hey, most villains nowadays AREN’T a part of the standard deal.

The thing about a savior complex is that you often have a blindside.

And from a more personal perspective, I’m not a big fan of the whole “protagonist repeats history” kinda deal, especially with the way BNHA framed itself as a sort of “next-gen” shonen which was supposed to be kinda sorta different. And the thing is, we already have several examples of the same story with the previous OFA holders, especially Nana and Toshinori, which we’ve seen in glimpses on several occasions.

Internally, it does make sense for Midoriya to be repeating the mistakes of his predecessors. Personally, I think it would make more sense if Midoriya’s inferiority complex manifested in a different way (and maybe show us the dangers of that heroic isolation through Nana and Toshinori in more fleshed out flashbacks so that part doesn’t get completely left out). But that’s not what we’re talking about here.

Now, with all my grievances of Midoriya settled… Bakugo.

Before I go to deep into AntiBaku mode, let me just say right now: I kinda get what he was going for.

He’s not being an arrogant loudmouth like usual because he’s letting his ego talk; he’s doing it because that’s what’s familiar to him AND to Midoriya. Midoriya is used to Bakugo when he acts like that, he hasn’t shown any serious signs of not being receptive to Bakugo when he’s like that (at least not recently), so Bakugo uses that in the hopes that maybe that familiarity will get Midoriya to stop and think. It’s worked before, right?

And in all fairness, maybe those insults are trying to get to Midoriya, too. He’s not thinking of OFA as some grand blessing, he’s not trying to be another All Might (the manga went as far to show us how much Izuku does NOT look like a traditional hero right now), so maybe Midoriya will stop and try to reason with his friends, and maybe come to reason with himself as well.

...or he’ll think Baku is full of s*** trying to set him off and just keep moving along, both out of annoyance and thinking Bakugo doesn’t really understand.

(This is where trying to understand Bakugo ends by the way.)

Because all of the above is assuming that Bakugo is approaching normal circumstances. Which he’s not.

Midoriya is tired, both mentally and physically. Midoriya has a very, VERY bad person trying to cut him off from everything, and everyone, and it’s working. Midoriya is under the impression that if he doesn’t keep moving, if he doesn’t try to fix this mess that HE signed up for, people that don’t deserve to get hurt are going to get hurt.

All Might is one of those people. His friends and classmates are some of those people. BAKUGO is one of those people.

And right now, all Bakugo is doing is getting in close proximity, doing what he usually does. He’s not changing his approach to throw Midoriya off, because he’s not that kinda person. He’s trying to talk Izuku down because that is his usual approach, and it’s worked before. Even if Midoriya ultimately contradicted his words, he’s always at least acknowledged Bakugo and what he’s had to say. So Bakugo’s trying to get him to realize how it looks from his perspective: Midoriya is getting a big head, he’s not ready for this responsibility, he’s not supposed to be this way.

...but that’s not what Midoriya’s hearing.

Right now, if I had to guess, the only thing Midoriya is processing right now is that he’s not enough. All Bakugo’s taunts are doing is inflaming his inferiority complex, reminding him that he’s not doing enough. He’s not a “Majesty… successor of One For All” because he’s NOT focusing on the clout, and from Midoriya’s perspective, he’s been doing a s*** job of helping people after the Nagant fiasco and with tracking down AFO and Shigaraki in general. He’s not an “All Might wannabe” because All Might can’t help right now, and even if he could, he’d be doing a lot better in Izuku’s eyes, because even if Toshinori Yagi was human, painfully so, All Might was always, ALWAYS, the #1 Hero for a reason.

...and how can Midoriya live up to that? What has he done to live up to that, to live up to ANYTHING, really?

Midoriya isn’t focusing on how much he’s done. He’s focusing on how much he hasn’t done.

“I can still move…” ...becuase I haven’t moved enough. Because I haven’t done enough.

With that said, time to switch topics: Bakugo’s understanding of the situation, while more extensive than anyone else, is also limited in its own right. I have problems with him claiming he knows All Might and Midoriya better than anyone else because of the sequence of events leading up to that are, realistically speaking (shocking, I know), completely contrived (aftermath of the Battle Trial, DvK2, subsequent invitation to secret OFA meetings). But that’s also because really, there’s a lack of complete awareness on Bakugo’s part, which isn’t expected, but still important.

Neither Bakugo nor Midoriya (nor the readers/viewers, really) know the full extent of All Might’s history as Toshinori Yagi. Midoriya probably knows a lot more of it than Bakugo does from a purely personal perspective, but that’s still not much, so Bakugo’s claim of knowing All Might is kinda :/ Then what about Izuku? Well…

Bakugo is willing to acknowledge that he bullied Midoriya. Bakugo is willing to acknowledge that Midoriya’s sense of self-worth is non-existent. But has Bakugo ever really acknowledged the impact he personally had on the latter?

Bakugo has been willing to see that the way he treated Midoriya was unjust, I won’t deny that. But as of now, we have yet to see Bakugo properly, explicitly realize that HE is the major contributor to Midoriya’s lack of self-worth. As far as Bakugo’s concerned, this is just another thing that Midoriya’s been doing since he was a kid. Except the fact that it’s not. Midoriya’s selflessness was always there.

...his lack of self-preservation came later.

And that’s the crux of the issue, really (finally, no more babbling): Bakugo is trying to tell Midoriya that he isn’t enough, but Midoriya is used to that. He grew up with it, heard it on repeat, internalized it. Not just from Bakugo, even if he was at some point a major contributor. And that’s Midoriya’s driving force: he’s not enough, he needs to do more, he can’t stop. There’s logic in Bakugo’s approach, but first off, it’s f***ing stupid logic, and second, logic doesn’t translate well to emotion. Even if Bakugo is doing what he’s doing with Izuku’s well-being in mind, he’s completely missing the point and kinda coming off as a dick, both externally and from a meta standpoint.

Izuku Midoriya doesn’t need Katsuki Bakugo trying to talk him down. He’s used to that.

Izuku Midoriya needs someone to tell him he’s done enough, plain and simple. No backhanded compliments, no workaround taunts. He needs someone like All Might- no, someone like Toshinori Yagi. He needs someone who is willing to tell him, in no uncertain terms, that he is enough, that he’s done enough.

More than enough people have already acknowledged Katsuki Bakugo.

Not enough people have truly acknowledged Izuku Midoriya.

TL;DR: Midoriya needs help, but the way Bakugo is going about it could actually backfire and feels shortsighted.

-Crimson Lion (9 July 2021)

[cherryfabi]

Angels Like You- 1

A/N: Hi! This will be a new series. It is inspired by Angels Like You by Miley Cyrus. I hope you like it! Feedback is always welcome. 

Warnings: Cheating, smut, daddy kink. I think that's all.

Word Count: 2.5k

It all starts with a lie. People are used to saying them. At times they are necessary, but we find ourselves in trouble when more and more derive from them, creating a vicious circle.

It is foolish and irrational to believe that lies will never be known.

And for the past six months, Harry and Y/N have been doing just that. They’ve been lying. They've been seeing each other despite the fact that they both knew they shouldn't and couldn't, but they did anyway. We humans love the forbidden. We love everything that we know we cannot have. Every human falls into temptation, always. Harry and Y/N were no exception to this.

Both of them met when Y/N’s boss, Jeff, asked her to accompany him to an important dinner, she agreed. What she didn't know was that she was going to find the man of her dreams there, but unfortunately, he was already married.

It was none other than Mr. Harry Styles who Jeff was meeting that night. A serious, wealthy, attractive, and hardworking individual. He was well-known all over the world because he owned major corporations, hotels, and other businesses.

It is safe to say that he is everything a woman wishes for in a man. Every woman wanted to be with him. Everyone loved him because, after all, what's not to love about him? He’s successful, kind, respectful and handsome. What is there not to love? Well, maybe there is something... he's not who he appears to be.

Nothing is ever how it seems, and Harry is no exception; Y/N knows this better than no other person in the world.

It was late at night, and Harry was lying next to Y/N in her bed, talking about anything and everything. His business, his marriage, his life, and his issues. She cuddled up to him and listened to him. One of Harry's favorite things about her is how good of a listener she is. He also knows she’s trustable and nonjudgmental.

They lay in silence after Harry is finished, just enjoying each other's company.

“What’s on your mind?” Y/N asks him.

“You.” He answers immediately.

“Me?” He gives her a nod and she giggles.

“I’m thinking about all the things I want to do to you right now.” He says.

He kisses Y/N on the lips, she smiles and wishes it would never end.

“Let me get you out of these pajamas, princess.” Harry whispered in her ear.

Y/N quickly stands up and lets him get rid of her clothes.

He looks at her with hunger in his eyes and she can’t help but giggle a bit from how he’s looking at her.

“You look beautiful, angel.” He says. “Tits so nice, baby. So hard and perky for me.”

He leans down to reach her breasts and sucks on them. Harry loves her breasts, he always tells her how much he loves them.

“Could spend all day on your tits alone, but I know you're aching between your legs.” He says. “Right?”

“Yes, daddy.” Harry hated being called ‘daddy’, but that changed soon after the word slipped out of Y/N’s lips. Now, he loves being called that, but only if it is Y/N who’s saying it, otherwise he would find it weird.

He starts to kiss his way down to her crotch.

“I’ve barely done anything and you’re soaking, love.” He says once he reaches her pussy. “You smell so good,”

Just when he was about to have a taste of her, she interrupted him.

“Why do you still have clothes on? It's not fair, I’m the only one naked.” She pouts.

“Can you just let me do what I want?” He says. “You know what? I’ll just fuck you. I won’t even waste my time getting you ready, you’re already dripping.” He says, taking his clothes off.

His cock springs up hitting his abdomen. His tip swollen and red.

Seconds later she watches him position himself between her. He takes one of her legs and places them on his shoulder.

“This is what you wanted, didn’t you?” He asked.

“Yes, daddy.” Y/N answered. “Please, daddy, fuck me.”

“I don't want to hurt you, so tell me if it hurts.” She nods. “Love when you’re a good girl for me, makes me feel so good when you’re a good girl for me. Now, be a good girl and spread your legs for me.”

He stares at her pussy for some seconds before slamming into her causing her breath to hitch, and her walls to clench so tight around him she feels her pussy is pushing him out from the tightness.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking tight, nearly pushing my cock out.” He moans. “Clench around me.” He orders.

She listens to him and clenches her tight cunt around him. His trusts get harder by each passing second. He pushed his hips in a constant rhythm, pushing into her roughly. The thrusts got so rough that every time he’d thrust into her, the headboard would hit the wall with a loud noise.

“This is all you are to me, just a tight hole that I can fuck.” He moves one of his fingers to her clit and starts moving it in circular motions. Her moans get louder, and Harry starts to push into her faster and deeper, so fast that she can’t control the noises coming out of her mouth. The pleasure was too much for her and she tried to close her legs, but she didn’t succeed since Harry removed his finger from her clit and pressed her thighs really far apart. She knows that if he continued with this, she wouldn’t last too long and Harry would not let her come. It’s too soon, he would obviously not let her come just yet.

He starts circling her clit faster and harsher than before and she closes her eyes with pleasure. Even though she can’t see him, she knows what face he has right now. Eyebrows furrowed while he stares where their bodies connect. His breath getting uneven and his grunts increasing, meaning he’s not going to last either.

“I’ve fucked you so many times and you’re still so tight. Can barely move.” He moans.

He then starts to circle her clit again, trying to make her come.

In no time she feels that familiar build in her stomach. Her legs start to shake uncontrollably, fighting so hard to not come. She knows she can't come, not when he hasn't explicitly told her that she has permission to do so.

“Daddy, I’m about to come. Can I come?” She asks between moans, not sure if she could take it anymore.

He removes his finger from her clit. “Come,” He says.

So she does, she comes immediately after he says the word.

Soon after she feels him twitch inside of her and hears him grunt so deeply before talking to her.

“I can come inside of you, right?” He asks. She barely registers what he’s saying but nonetheless, she nods.

He thrusts into her slowly two more times before he spills all his warm come inside of her.

He stays inside of her for some seconds before slowly pulling out.

“You did so good, princess.” He tells her. She knows his orgasm hit him just as amazing as hers by the tone of his voice.

He lays back beside her. She cuddles him while they try to recover their breaths.

Y/N enjoys the comfortable silence there is, but she also does not like it. Everytime they finish fucking, she feels guilt. She feels guilty for messing around with a married man. Sure, she is aware that his marriage is failing and that Harry is dissatisfied with his current wife, but Y/N is also aware that this is not morally correct. She is well aware that she should not be doing this. And the ring on his left hand is proof of it.

She also feels pain, though. See, this is the thing about their affair: they both knew they had to keep whatever they had a secret. They couldn't reveal what was going on between them to the rest of the world. It would have been damaging for both of their reputations. She wished they could show the world how happy they were together, but they were unable to do so. Nonetheless, she wished for it.

Both he and she have enjoyed their secret relationship, of course, to different extents. Y/N knew Harry was only interested in her company and the incredible sex they shared, but Y/N fell for him, she knew the feeling was not reciprocal. She didn’t exactly know how to put into words what she felt for him, but whatever it was, she knew that this feeling was just one-sided. Whatever feelings she had for him were irrelevant at the end of the day; they couldn't be together for more than one reason.

“Harry?” She breaks the silence, he hums in response. “What are we? What am I to you?”

Harry turns to look at her.

"Y/N, I'm married, you know we can't be together even if I wanted to."

"Even if you wanted to?" She repeats. "So even if you weren't married, you still wouldn't want to be with me?" She gets out of bed and puts on her clothes.

"That's not what I meant, Y/N. Don't put words I didn't say in my mouth."

"Yes, you may not have said them, but isn't that the truth?" She sighed.

He doesn't respond and this infuriates her.

“I’m taking that as if I am just a good fuck to you.” She answers. He turns to look away. “I’m sick of this, Harry. I’m tired of the role I play in your life. I’m tired of the lies; I think we should stop this, we shouldn’t have started this in the first place.”

“You’re the only thing that makes me happy at the moment, I don’t want to lose you.” Harry spoke.

“You’re unbelievable! You're married, Harry! Right now, you should be with her, making your wife happy, and she should be making you happy as well, not me. You’re using me, and I'm not going to put up with whatever we've got right now.”

“How come you’re bringing this up now? We’ve been doing this for almost seven months now, and you have never complained about it, what’s different now?” He’s mad now too.

“If you want to stay with me, then divorce her. You always tell me you’re unhappy with her, then divorce her. I want a stable relationship; I'm tired of playing games; I want a normal relationship.”

“Y/N, you know I cannot give you what you’re asking for.”

“Then go, Harry. Get out of my house. Clearly you are never going to give me what I want, I’m done wasting my time.”

Harry sighed, knowing that there was nothing else he could do or say to make it better.

At the end of the day, she was right. He couldn’t give her what she wanted. So, really, what else could be done? Both of them stood in different places in their lives, and there was no way they could’ve made it work.

They both knew their relationship would end eventually, but neither expected it to end this way, on this day. Their relationship had ended for good; it was the most natural thing that could have happened.

Harry deep inside always knew that he didn’t deserve Y/N. He knew she deserves someone who would give her their entire love, someone who did not keep her a secret, she deserved someone much better than him... but he was too selfish to admit this.

“If that is your final decision, I will respect it. Bye, Y/N.”

And this is what Y/N meant when she said that she knows him and knows that he is not what people think he is. She knows that the only thing he cares about is himself, no one else, even if he tells you otherwise. And this is just what he has done. He’s trying to make her feel guilty for the decision she just made, but she will not let this affect her because she knows that he is as guilty as she is.

Harry might seem like a good and wise man, but on the inside he is a misery.

Y/N knows that he hurts people without remorse. And she has just experienced this firsthand.

Now all she has left to do is move on from this and live the normal life she used to have before she met Harry.

___

It's been two months since Y/N saw Harry for the last time. Two months since Y/N lies alone in her bed, not knowing anything about him. Two months since they shared their last kiss. Two months had passed since they called it quits.

After the breakup, Y/N is doing the best she can be. A breakup is never easy, but theirs was even worse. It was even harder for her to overcome because it was full of secrets, lies, and toxicity. But right now she’s alright. She has realized that she likes the life she has right now, there are no secrets, no lies… she likes it way better, but a part of her still misses him.

She deeply regrets getting with a married man. But on the other hand, she does not regret having met him. With him, she lived one of the best months of her life. She got to know a side of herself that if it weren't for Harry, she might never have known. Not everything with Harry was so bad at the end of it all.

“Y/N, I need to talk to you about something.” Jeff said to her.

“Yes?”

“Come in and take a seat.” Jeff said, indicating Y/N to come inside of his office. “So do you remember Mr. Styles?”

When Y/N heard his surname, a last name she thought she'd never hear again, she tensed up. “I do.”

“Good, well, he was just talking to me a few moments ago and said he needed an assistant, and I immediately thought of you.” He gave a warm smile. “I think you're a fantastic assistant, and you'll make a lot more money with him than you are here. He's also an amazing boss. What do you think? I believe this would be a fantastic opportunity for you.”

“But I’m your assistant.” Was all she managed to say.

“Don’t worry, at the moment I don’t think I need one, but he does. What do you think? Would you be interested?

Y/N knew that this would be a great opportunity, and she would have an amazing salary, but was it worth it? She was well aware that Harry and her were not on the best terms, but she knew that this job was a great opportunity.

“Sure, I’ll take it.” She said.

[not-me-simping-for-blasty]

I Melt With You - Bakugou Katsuki

All Parts:

Part 4:

You’re paranoid. 

Terribly, terribly paranoid, and even if you’re aware of it, there’s nothing you can do to stop it. Nothing you can do to quell the anxiety that wells up every time another person enters your space. Every time their skin nearly brushes yours, even accidentally, just for a split second.

It’s maddening. Nearly debilitating the way you’re flinching away from people. You can see your co-workers notice too, fellow nurses suddenly giving you odd looks every time you reject a high five. Even when you’re wearing your gloves. It’s just a panic reaction at this point- a fixation on trying to keep your quirk as least exhaustive an experience as it can be. 

On one hand, you still really dislike Bakugou- nearly hate him for bringing it up to you- but, on the other hand, he did manage to figure it out. He somehow managed to figure out what you never could, and all in a matter of minutes from your relatively short interactions. It made you think that maybe he could be really smart- if he didn’t spend so much time killing his own brain-cells with every juvenile insult he spewed at you. 

You wondered if that was just him, or he really did hate you that much. Surely he couldn’t be that much of a monster to other people, right? Right? 

Wrong. 

You remember Kirishima, how he apologized for Bakugou nearly the second he walked through the door. It hits you then that you’re definitely not the first person he’d seemed to mercilessly terrorize- you’re not sure if that makes you feel better or worse.

Actually, on second thought, maybe it makes you feel worse. No, it definitely makes you feel worse. So much worse, in fact, that just the sight of his face nearly sends you into an irrational rage. Even now, weeks after the last time he’d personally ruined your day, you were still mad. Still angry. Still cursing every time you saw those red eyes on every billboard, newspaper, and billboard in town.

Well, lucky for you, you didn’t have to look at those printed eyes anymore. Not when the real ones were right in front of you- scaring you shitless as you leave the hospital. 

You had left the hospital from the back exit, tired and crabby from your late shift, grumbling as you stepped out into the alleyway. You’d hardly seen him, just the slightest glimpse of movement behind the tall dumpsters, before he’s practically in your face.

“Jesus!” You gasp, curling your arms around your stomach. Your legs feel like jelly. “Don’t do that! Scared me half to death!”

“Oh, chill the hell out, ya fuckin’ baby. You’re fine.” Bakugou rolls his eyes, falling into step next to you.

He looks worse for the wear, just like every other time you’ve seen him, exhaustion coloring his complexion something sickly. There’s an angry purple bruise covering his cheek, a few cuts, and even more bruising dotting his scarred knuckles. A tiny, vindictive part of you thinks it serves him right, but you keep it to yourself. You’re better than that.

You want to be nice to him, truly you do, but he’s made it pretty hard. Concerning you, Bakugou’s pretty much dug his grave at this point, and he only makes it worse with his next works.

“You need to do something for me.” He orders suddenly. “Now.”

“A-are you asking me? For help? Is that what this is?”

“What? No- obviously fucking not.” He sneers, nostrils flaring. “Why the hell would I go and do something like that. That’s stupid. Weak.”

“Oh. Okay. So then two seconds ago, when you were telling me that I ‘need’ to do something for you, what was that?” You squint your eyes at him, eyebrow twitching with annoyance. “That wasn’t you asking for help?”

“No. ‘s an order.”

“Oh. Yeah. Okay- an order. Because you’re totally in a position to make those.”

“I am.”

“You’re not.” You spin on your heels, nearly crashing into his chest since he followed so closely behind you. Still, you figure the promixity is all the better for gesturing, so you don’t miss a beat, waving your hands emphatically. “My shift just ended, alright? That means I’m not on the clock, and you’re not a patient. I don’t have to suck it up and help you unless I want to. Understand?”

Bakugou seems to bristle at your tone, eyes narrowing as his lip curls. You just try to shrug it off. If he wants to be mad in the middle of the alley, fine- but you’ve had a long day and you’re going home. You spin around again, walking briskly into the street, and it takes him a few moments to catch up.

“I told you, Bakugou, I’m not helping you just because you tried to order me to.”

“I know.”

“Then what’re you doing?”

“Walking.”

It’s his tone; that same needling, challenging edge to it that has your blood boiling. If anyone else said that, you’d probably believe it. But he’s not just walking and Bakugou’s smirk makes that very clear.

“No. You’re following me.”

“Same fuckin’ direction. Sue me, leech.”

The street lamps cast spots that yellow out his already pale skin, and the longer you walk the more withered he looks. Bakugou seems utterly burnt out, and when you look really close, all his features are slumped. It’s a stark contrast to Dynamite’s turbo-charged public persona, and it makes you wonder why he’d even let you see him like this at all. You figure whatever it is must be making him pretty desperate.

Suddenly that same, sinking, sympathetic feeling has you letting up a bit. You slow your pace, catching his gaze as you internally curse your own soft heart.

“Okay. Fine. What’s up. What can I help you with?”

Bakugou squints his eyes, almost like he doesn’t believe you. You think that’s a little fair- most times, even you can hardly believe all that you’re capable of forgiving.

“Sleep.” He finally says, bitten out tightly under his breath. 

“You want me to help you sleep?”

“Yes. Obviously.” 

“Not obvious.” 

“Would be if you weren’t such a shitty nurse.”

“If that’s supposed to be a dig- save it.” You roll your eyes, trying to tamper down the irritation. “I did notice. That you look tired. Just didn’t mention it out of kindness, so don’t think you can start bringing my skills into question.” 

You turn down another side street, and Bakugou follows. There’s less light so you miss the way his eyes scan the lurking shadows; intense and immediate, like a habit he can’t help himself from indulging in. 

“You really live around here?” He suddenly asks, voice low and gruff.

“Yep. In the apartment complexes just up there.” You point off into the distance. “Why-”

“And your shift always end this late?”

“Yes?”

“God,” He laughs something disbelieving under his breath, rolling his eyes at you. “I was fuckin’ right. You really are the stupidest goddamn person walking the planet.”

“That’s- Do you ever think about your words? Seriously!” You huff, curling your fists. You hope it’ll quell your sudden urge to hit him. “Just because you think it, doesn’t mean you should say it! And who the hell are you to judge anyway-”

“You’re fuckin’ asking to be attacked. That’s stupid. ”

“By who?”

“Weirdos, idiot.”

“You’re the weirdo! You’re the one following me home right now!”

“I’m not following you-”

“Really? You’re not? Because right now, the way you’re walking? Maybe all of two steps behind me? On a dark street? At night? Sort of seems like creepy following is exactly what you’re doing!”

“I told you, you need to do something for me. Not leaving till you do.” He grumbles, digging a bruised knuckle into his temples. “And keep it the fuck down. Your screaming sounds like a dying animal.”

“My-” You seethe for a moment, hardly able to stand his attitude. Then you take a breath because you prided yourself on being a kind person, and kind people do not kill national heroes- even when they’re being asses. “You know, it is almost unbelievable how bad you are at asking for help.”

“Told ya, already. ‘m not fuckin’ asking for help.” 

“Then why are you even here bothering me? Go bother someone else!”

“If fuckin’ anyone else could do anythin’, believe me, I’d go to them instead.”

“God, do you even understand how rude that is?” You ask him incredulously, hand grasping at the door to your apartment building. “No, seriously, are you even aware of what you sound like to other people?”

“Not my fuckin’ problem that other people are sensitive.” 

Your eyes bulge at that, mouth nearly dropping in disbelief. You couldn’t believe him. You just couldn’t believe that a single person could possibly go through life with that callous of a mentality. It was insanity. Pure insanity. 

“So, leech, you gonna put me to fuckin’ sleep or not?” 

Just kidding- that was insanity. That sentence alone was proof of just how ridiculous your life had gotten since he’d crash landed into it. 

Bakugou seems to realize his words simultaneously, his cheeks flushing red under the outdoor lights. You almost laugh, but then he’s glaring, eyes sternly set and murderous. For a moment, you really believe he was gonna blow you up right where you were standing. 

“Say a goddamn word. Do it. I fuckin’ dare you. Leech.” He sneers. “Try me.”

“At this hour? No, uh, no thanks.”

Bakugou does seem to relax at your joke, albeit begrudgingly. He drops his shoulders, rolling his eyes, and clears his throat. “Now, seriously, you gonna fuckin’ do it or not?”

A part of you wants to say no- to hold your gift over his head, to lord it just out of reach until he figures out how to not insult you with every breath. Then you think of your job, of all the civilians who come in swearing up and down that Dynamite was a hero. And you believe them, truly, but you think that Bakugou has a long way to go. An especially long way.

But, even so, your fingers are itching again in your gloves. There’s that urge coursing through your veins, your thoughts a constant loop of heal, help, save and so it’s decided. Quickly. Almost like it was never even a question in the first place- and, knowing yourself, you suppose it never really was.

“Fine. I will. On one condition.”

“Condition? When the fuck did I say it was a negotiation. It’s not.” 

“It is and I’ll tell you why.” You spin to face him completely, jumping back when you find him much closer than expected. Your retreat till your back hits the door, but you feel no less cramped than before. “You need me. You do. Don’t bother denying it because you wouldn’t be here otherwise. And the funny thing is, I would’ve done it! Would’ve done it entirely free of charge if you just asked nicely, and-”

“Will you get to the fuckin’ point already?”

“See! That! That’s why there’s a condition! Because you’re needlessly rude! All the time from what I’ve seen. And that’s got to change. Especially if you’re gonna ask for my help more than just this one time.” 

“God- how many fuckin’ times do I need to make this clear to you? Hah?” Bakugou growls, leaning in even more. You can see it in his wild eyes- he’s trying to scare you, crowding you against the door. “I’m not asking. I’m telling you- You don’t make the fuckin’ rules here.” 

“In this I do.” You swallow nervously, trying not to let your intimidation show. “So you’re gonna listen. My condition is this- if you want me to help you, then you have to learn to play nice. That means no names, no insults, no threats, no complaints, and no attitude. That’s the deal. Take it or leave it.” 

Bakugou swears under his breath, eyes blazing as he holds his stare. Truthfully, it makes you nervous, but you’re not one to back down. At least, not when there’s no threat of job loss involved. So you just squint back at him, jutting your jaw out in defiance. There’s a tense few seconds of silence, his eyes searching, but then he backs off. Nostrils flaring like a bull, Bakugou relents. 

“Fuckin’ fine. Whatever. Jesus.” He swears, hand curling into a fist at his side. “If you’re gonna be such a bitc-”

“I said, no names, Bakugou.”

He just rolls his eyes, face so very pinched, and you briefly wonder if he’s going to explode. There’s anger as he suddenly shoves you away from the door, yanking it open and letting himself into the building. Then he’s stomping through the lobby, and you’re hardly able to catch up by the time Bakugou stops in front of the elevator. 

“What fuckin’ floor, leech?”

“Once again, I said no names. None. Especially not that one.” You tell him sternly, trying to keep your voice down. “And you didn’t agree. You’re not following me and I’m not helping you unless you agree.”

If possible, you think Bakugou’s expression grows even more irritated, his eyes widening as he sets his jaw. Another few seconds pass, and when he sees you won’t relent, Bakugou nods. It’s tight and strained, stunted like the acquiescence physically pains him. 

“God, you’re lucky I’m nice.” You tell him, nearly stabbing the elevator button as you press it. “Really lucky.”  

“And you’re lucky I don’t have enough energy to beat the shit out of you right now.” 

“No threats, Bakugou. You agreed.” You say easily, stepping into the elevator as it opens. 

“Had to. Because your fuckin’ terms are bullshit.” 

“Hey, no complaints. You agreed to that too.” 

You think you hear something strangled leave his mouth, but it’s swallowed up by the sound of the elevator ascending. 

Now that you’re standing in better lighting, you can see Bakugou’s face clearly. He looked bad before, but he looks worse now. There wasn’t just one bruise on his face, there was multiple- his jaw colored burgundy and his nose and lip split open. There was no blood, but there wasn’t a lot of scabbing either. It was new. These injuries were new.

You think back to that first visit- when he told you he never really got hurt. You wonder what’s been going so wrong for him lately. It seemed like all he’d done since you’d met him was get hurt. 

“Stop fuckin’ staring.”

“I-I’m not. Not like that.” You say. “I’m assessing. You’re gonna need a butterfly bandage, on your nose- skin moves too much. And a cold compress for your jaw. Maybe some disinfectant on your lip. Probably should get your knuckles wrapped too and-”

“Jesus, I fuckin’ get it.”

You roll your eyes, ready to retort, but then the elevator dings. You walk out into the hallway, Bakugou trailing behind you like a shadow. It’s not until you’re at your door, twisting your key into the lock, that you pause.

You’re about to enter your apartment, with Bakugou of all people. A guy you’re not even sure can tolerate you. And yet you’re doing it- because he needs help. Because he looks like walking death and you’ve got a first aid kit under your bathroom sink. Because he’s pretty much proved himself to be an irredeemable asshole, but yet you still can’t bring yourself to leave him out in the cold.

Because you’re an empath, and that, by default, makes you an idiot.

You turn the key. Bakugou, to his credit, looks a little uneasy, but then you’re waving him through the door, and pushing it shut behind him. 

“So, you wait here.” You gesture towards your couch, moving aside a few pillows to make him room to sit. “I’m gonna go get all that stuff I talked about.”

“So, what, you’re just like playing fuckin’ nice nurse again, now?”

“Bakugou. No attitude please- I am nice, okay? All the time. Or, at least when others are nice to me.” You say, levelling him with an unimpressed look. “And even if they’re not, I still don’t like seeing them hurt. Not if I can do something about it.”

“I don’t want your fuckin’ help.”

“No, but you need it. And since you’re too stubborn to ask for it, I’m just gonna have to force it on you.”

“Do you even fuckin’ hear yourself?” Bakugou prickles, voice rising. “Acting like a goddamn savior. Like you’re so fuckin’ good and holy. It’s bullshit.”

“It’s not.” You say flatly. Then you’re pivoting on your heels, leaving him behind and you grab the first aid kit. You open the bathroom door, calling over your shoulder. “And if you have such a problem with it, then leave. Nobody is keeping you here.”

You hear Bakugou swear again, so angry and seething that you almost believe he’ll take you up on your offer; but then you hear footsteps across the floor, the creaking of your couch.

You reach under your sink, pulling out the kit and a few extra rags for a compress. When you look in the mirror there’s exhaustion lacing your features, your eyes worn and dark with bags. The sight makes a part of you want to forget it all- makes you want to surrender to the ache in your bones and tell him to leave; but that’s just a small part. The larger part is telling you that you’re not spent until you’re unconscious, and that right now, Bakugou looks a whole lot worse than you feel. It’s telling you to hurry up and help him and you agree. 

When you walk back out, supplies in hand, Bakugou’s slumped on your couch. He’s got his head tilted over the back, one hand resting on his stomach and the other thrown over his eyes. He shifts at the sound of your approach, dropping his hand and as blinks blearily. You think his eyes look a little duller than before- less like raging wildfire and more like smothered embers. If you didn’t know any better it would look like begruding acceptance- but this was Bakugou, and you knew better.

“So,” You start, setting all of your things down on the couch next to him. “You wanna go to sleep now? Or wait until after I fix up pretty much the entirety of your face?” 

He looks at you unsurely, eyebrows creasing.

“Wait, actually- how are you planning to get home?” You continue, hands on your hips. “Where do you even live? Around here? Close? Because you were out in like, 10 minutes, maybe, the last time I touched you, so it’s gotta be close. You live close right? Because-”

“God, cool it with the fuckin’ word vomit. Shit’s annoying. Shut up.” He grumbles. “I’m sleeping here.”

“Who decided? You?”

“Yeah. Obviously.”

“Bakugou.” You balk, striding closer to the back of your couch. You lean over him, forcing him meet your eyes. “This is what I’m talking about! With the learning to play nice thing! I would’ve let you stay here, I would’ve, had you asked. You can’t just bulldoze your way into my house and refuse to leave!” 

“Yeah? ‘n just what the fuck are you gonna do about it if I do?” He scoffs, curling his lip as he snarls. “Nothing. Because you’re so fuckin’ nice, right?”

“Don’t say it like that. It’s not a bad trait and I won’t have you insulting it. I’m not embarrassed of who I am.” You try to work through your frustration, centering yourself with a deep breath. “Look, bottom line is, ask next time. Or I’m not helping you until you do.” 

“Fine. Whatever.”

You try to shrug off his petulant response, taking another calming breath as you shuck off your gloves. You replace them with latex ones from the kit, pulling the material over your fingers as you grab the antiseptic wipes. You decide to start around the cut on his nose. It’s the largest and widest, spanning over the entirety of his bridge and into his right cheek. It’s a nasty thing, deep and red, all exposed nerves beneath a thin scab and you can tell it hurts him. Bakugou fights to keep from wincing, eyes scrunching slightly as you wipe the remnants of dirt and oil from his skin. 

“This from another villan?” You ask calmly, finding an easy peace in performing familiar tasks. “One today?”

“Cuts are from today. Bruises were yesterday.”

Blinking down at him, you’re a little surprised by how easy his answer was. You expected him to fight, to be difficult just because he could, but Bakugou wasn’t doing that. He was lying relatively and still and sated under your fingertips, the only sign of any tension are his minutely pinched eyebrows. Briefly, you check your gloves- for a moment there you were sure you’d accidentally touched him.

“Oh. Okay.” You reply, taking a small butterfly bandage from your kit. You press it over the cut with gentle pressure. “How’s the other guy look?”

“Fuckin’ terrible. Beat ‘em to hell.”

“I’m sure you did.” You snort, moving on to clean the cut on his lip. “Hey, you wanna know something?”

Bakugou peeks a red eye open, studying your face above him. He nods.

“I actually end up treating a lot of your victims, you know.” 

“Criminals. Not victims.”

“Mhm. Sure. Well, either way, they’re always covered in burns. Mostly minor, but sometimes pretty nasty ones.” You try to keep your voice light, even and steady as you dab at his lip. “Honestly, at this point, I’m pretty sure you’re entirely responsible for the hospital’s chronic burn-cream shortage.”

Bakugou does seem to smile at that, exhaling through his nose as his eyes flutter briefly. “Wouldn’t be fuckin’ short if people just stopped tryin’ to pull stupid shit all the time. ‘s not my fault they’re so fuckin’ bad at running away.” 

“Bakugou.” You balk, unable to keep the laugh from bubbling out your lips. “You can’t say that!’ 

“Why the fuck not? Hah? It’s true.” 

“Because! You’re supposed to be playing nice, remember?”

“Yeah. To you.” He mumbles, voice rough and raspy. “Because you fuckin’ schemed your way into forcing me. They didn’t.” 

“Okay- First, I’m like, pretty sure schemed and forced are the same thing, so we definitely don’t need to say them both. It’s just overkill. Second, that’s a borderline insult, so I’m gonna need you to watch your mouth. And third,” You cradle his jaw in your fingers, turning it to the side. “How the hell did you manage to get a bruise behind your ear?”

“I don’t know- probably the same way you somehow managed to become a nurse; even with such shitty fuckin’ bedside manner. You suck, leech.”

Your jaw drops. 

“Bakugou!”

He cracks his eyes open, something small and pleased settling at the corner of his mouth. There’s almost as much venom in his voice as before but his eyes are softer now. They’re kinder, crinkling just slightly at the edges. 

He’s joking. You realize. He doesn’t actually mean it. Not this time.

“You dick.” You reprimand, flicking his hairline lightly. “You absolute dick.”

His eyes just seem to grow a little brighter at that, just for a second, and then he’s shutting them again. There’s still a smirk on his face though- one you’d swear you’d slap off if he wasn’t actually being somewhat pleasant right now. For once in his life, it seemed. 

“Alright,” You announce, rounding the couch quickly. “Your knuckles look just as bad so give ‘em.”

“No thanks.”

“It wasn’t really a suggestion.”

“I don’t need anymore of your pity help, leech.”

“It’s not pity. Not even a little bit.” You sigh. “Look, I know you’re not gonna understand this, but I seriously cannot chill the hell out without at least trying to take care of people. My quirk makes my fingers literally itch when I see injuries. They itch and they don’t stop itching until I do something about it. Helping people, healing people, is hard-wired into me- it’s as much something I do for me as it is something I do for others.” 

Bakugou’s eyes widen at that. He sits a little straighter, fists clenching as he presses them into the cushions. A few beats pass and then he’s grumbling, throwing himself back as he thrusts both of his injured knuckles forward.

“God, you’re so fucking irritating.” He gripes. “If you’re gonna be such a weirdo about it, then get the hell to it already.” 

You resist the urge to roll your eyes, instead kneeling next to your coffee table and settling on the ground. You take his hands in yours, bending all his fingers to make sure nothing is broken. When nothing is, you look up at Bakugou, planning to tell him the good news, but he’s already looking at you. Your eyes meet, and he blinks, once, twice, before averting his eyes quickly. You think that maybe he blushes too, but he turns his head so sharply you’re almost convinced you imagined it.

You just try to shrug it off, focusing your attention back on his hands. You notice how warm they are again, nearly feverish and strangely unblemished. When you start rubbing bruise cream over knuckles, kneading the joints between your fingers, Bakugou sighs slumps back into the couch. He closes his eyes once more.

“Are you falling asleep?”

“No. Can’t. Fuckin’ told ya already.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t tell me why.” You set his hands back on the couch, moving instead to unravel a bandage. “Not that I won’t help you, but have you tried any other remedies? Melatonin? Or lavender? Maybe chamomile? Any of those?”

“Mhm. Falling asleep isn’t the problem.”

“Then what is?” 

 He opens his eyes, squinting at you from above. “None of your fuckin’ business.” 

“Bakugou, I’m trying to help here.”

“I don’t want-”

“Yeah. I know. You don’t want it. Or you don’t want to rely on it. I get it. But you wouldn’t have even came here if you didn’t absolutely need it, right?” You insist, grabbing his hands into yours again. “God, you know, I’ve had toddlers who were more cooperative than you. Why’re you so difficult?”

“I’m not fuckin’ difficult.”

“No. You’re difficult. Very difficult.” 

“And you’re fuckin’ annoying. Do me a favor and go back to being nice.” 

“Nope. Sorry. Pretty sure you didn’t like me then either.” You start wrapping the bandage around his knuckles, taking extra care to apply the right pressure. “And I was only nice to you because I was working, you know. I’m only actually nice to the people who deserve it.”

Bakugou rolls his eyes at that.

You finish wrapping the bandage, securing it into place with a bit of medical adhesive. All things considered, Bakugou looks better than before. Or at least, better than the death incarnate he’d been portraying himself as.

“All done.” You smile, turning away to start packing up your supplies.

“Finally. Took ya fuckin’ long enough.” 

“God, you are literally devoid of manners, aren’t you?” 

“Yeah. ‘s part of not bein’ an absolute bitch.”

You gawk, spinning around to face him. Bakugou’s relaxed into your couch, arms laid across the back leisurely as he smiles. There’s that same softness to his eyes from before, the crinkling just at the edges.

“Wow.” You scoff, smiling sarcastically. “You really think you’re so funny don’t you?” 

“I do.”

“Well, I don’t.”

“Yeah. Because you’re fuckin’ brainless.”

“Brainless? Me? Swear to god, you only know, like, three words and all of them are probably swears!” 

Bakugou just shrugs, looking abnormally pleased. Content even. You figure that’s probably right for someone like him- only happy when everyone around him is devolving into chaos.

“Actually, you know what, I think I’m done yelling for the night.” You say, shucking your gloves off. You wiggle your fingers at him, a smirk plastered across your face. “I think it’s time you’re euthanized, don’t you?”

Bakugou just blinks, minutely shrinking away from you.

“Because you said you wanted me to put you to sleep, right? To put you down. Like a dog.” You continue, nearing him, coming close even as his lip curls up. Bakugou is glaring fully now, fists clenched, and you stop just a few inches out of his reach. “Or, you know, in ruder terms- not a dog, but a bitch.”

Bakugou snarls, lunging at you as you duck away. He’s fast but you’re faster, vaulting behind your couch to create some distance. There’s fire in his eyes, blazing and hot in his irises, but it isn’t scary. If you look close enough, you’re almost sure it’s just warmth. That same rare amusement from earlier.

“You leech. Swear to fuck I’ll make you regret that. Say your goddamn prayers!” 

“Touch me and you’ll fall asleep!” You tease. “Or I’ll use my quirk and see into your brain. So I guess it’s more of a ‘pick your poison’ for you, really.” 

“It’ll be the same for you.” Bakugou growls, hands grasping the back of the couch as he leans in towards you. “Open casket or closed, it’s still gonna be your fuckin’ funeral.” 

“Really?”

“Really. Leech.”

“No thanks.”

“What the fuck do you mean ‘no thanks’,” Bakugou mimics your voice, his features twisting. “I’m killing you. You’re dead. You don’t get a choice.” 

“No, I really think I do.”

“And just what the fuck makes you so goddamn confident?”

“This. You not attacking me.” You smile easily, voice daring as you stare right back at him. “If you really wanted me dead, I’d be dead. Isn’t that right, Dynamite?” 

The name sends Bakugou recoiling, shrinking backwards and scoffing in outright shock. You watch him stumble, legs hitting your coffee table and nearly causing him to fold. He recovers quickly though, albeit with his cheeks flushing wildly. 

“Shut the fuck up.” 

“Nah. Thanks for the offer though.” You smile brightly, before throwing your arms above your head and yawning widely. “As fun as that was, I’m pretty tired. You ready to fall asleep, yet?”

“Jesus fuck, yes. That’s the entire goddamn reason I’m even here. Idiot.”

“No name calling. You agreed.”

“I didn’t agree to shit.”

“You did.” You affirm. “Now, c’mon, like last time, hold your hand out.” 

With surprisingly little dramatics or resistance, Bakugou listens. He thrusts one of his bandaged hands forward as he sits on the couch again. When you touch his fingers, you feel that faint warmth again. Like fire and embers coursing through your bloodstream. It’s uncomfortable, a relentless sensation that has you cringing. You briefly wonder what it would be like to always live with it. Like Bakugou seems to. 

His eyes flutter shut just like last time, and you can see the way he staggers. It’s like the fight leaves him entirely, and then he’s falling boneless into the couch. You can hardly place a pillow onto the cushions before he’s driving his head into it.

“Jesus,” You mutter in disbelief. “How long has it been since you slept? You look dead.” 

“Weeks.” Bakugou mumbles.

“Since the last time?” 

“Mhm.”

If his words alone didn’t confirm the severity of his sleeplessness for you, his response time did. Bakugou answered quickly, without fight, like he’d been wanting to spill for the entire night. And, you suppose, maybe he did; or was trying to. In hindsight, you begin to realize a lot of his screaming could just as easily have read as cries for help- not that you’d ever tell him that. You’d probably have to prepare a will if you ever tried telling him that.

“You want a blanket?” You ask a little unsurely, not exactly confident in your approach to this entirely different Bakugou. “All you’re getting is the couch, but I could probably scrounge up a few blankets.”

Bakugou doesn’t respond. All you hear in response are tiny little snores and slow breathing. 

You find it reminds you of the last time- the way you’re reaching into a cupboard and grabbing out a blanket for him. Except this time, it’s a little bit different. Somehow you’re settling the blanket over him with a little bit of genuine kindness instead of begrudging sympathy.

After all, you can’t help but feel a little bit of pity- no one would ever fall asleep that fast unless they really needed it. Especially not in a stranger’s house. 

--/--

enjoy my lovelies :))

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[pomegranates-and-blood]

νοσταλγία (Chapter 44)

νοσταλγία Masterlist

Pairing: Ivar/Reader

Word Count: 4.7k

Warnings: The usual.

A/N: Hi, hope you like this! Ik I still have a winter blurb request to get to, I’ll probably post it sometime during the week. Thank you!

Btw, ‘mḗtēr’ is Ancient Greek for mother, and barley is a symbol of Demeter. :)

You are sitting on your bed, already dressed for the night, when Ivar comes into your bedroom.

You lift your gaze from your failed attempts at embroidery patterns that Thora makes look so damn easy, and watch Ivar walk closer, his free hand reaching to tug off the cloak over his shoulders.

You don’t miss the angry way he takes it off, or the stronger-than-needed stabs of his crutch against the ground.

He sits down before you on the bed, and you do not hesitate to move close, your legs on either side of him as you rest your brow between his shoulder blades, enjoying the familiar movements of his back as he starts to work on the braces of his legs.

Your arm wrapped around his torso, you let your hand travel up and down his stomach, smiling when he reaches back to put a heavy hand on your leg.

“Will you tell me what is wrong?” You prompt.

“Jarl Olavson was defeated.” He tells you curtly. Your hand stills, and so does your breath.

“Defeated?”

“Yes, defeated,” Ivar bites out, a movement of his head as his shoulders rise and fall with an angry breath. “Considering how we met, you should be very familiar with defeat.”

“Hey,” You chastise, tugging on his hair as reprimand. After a moment, he breathes out through his nose, and his hand tightens on your leg. You take it as an apology, certain none will actually leave his lips. “By whom?

Ivar doesn’t answer.

He should know by now that he says as much with his silences as he does with his words.

If it were King Alfred’s army, he would tell you. If it were any other Vikings that were somehow stupid enough to battle Ivar’s lieutenant in York and lucky enough to defeat him, he would tell you.

He wouldn’t tell you if it were the man he admitted to having in chains and on a moment of irrational impulsiveness, he let go free.

“How did he win? I would think he didn’t have the numbers after Strepshire.”

“He didn’t, not then,” He accepts, finishing taking off the braces of his legs. “But he does now.”

“Do you think his King aids him now?”

“No, it wasn’t Alfred’s army. We would have known if it were.”

You swallow down the pit of worry in your stomach, and move back on the bed, settling under the covers and waiting for your husband to join you.

He does soon after, discarding his shirt without a care for the cold that still bites, and -for reasons beyond the obvious ones- you keep your eyes on him.

You watch as he grabs a fistful of the pants’ fabric to move his legs, and you cannot help but notice the furrow between his brows, you watch his wrist expertly trapped in the chains that dangle above the bed as he settles for bed and you cannot help but linger on the tension that strains his shoulders.

If Stithulf managed to grow in power in such a way during the winter, enough to defeat the commander of York’s forces, most likely forcing him to retreat to the formerly Saxon city, then…even if neither of you would like to admit it, it is Ivar’s fault, and maybe yours.

Ivar let Stithulf go because of the deal you have made, because he wanted more time. Before he left you had to bite your tongue to keep yourself from requesting that of him, and you didn’t bite it when it came time to ask the Gods for the same thing.

And now, warm under the covers and laying on your side as your Ivar lays by your side on his back, pale eyes searching the nothingness of the space above him, you feel the tinge of worry, of regret.

You ran from Fate once, when you decided to go to Eleusis even while aware that the Gods -your own or others, you aren’t yet sure which- summoned you to Scandinavia; and you burned for it. You fought, and you lost, and you died.

You dread to think maybe you ran, maybe Ivar ran.

“Their movements, their…formations,” He stops himself, a twitch of irritation in his nose as he debates with himself whether to speak or not. “They don’t fight like Saxons.”

“They never did,” You offer, quietly. “And if you are right, and most of the Arabs survived…”

He shakes his head, sitting up on the bed once again. You take a moment to watch the outline of him bathed in the low and warm light of the dim fires, before you sit up as well, shuffling closer and bending your legs underneath you.

“It is more than that, it isn’t just the foreigners,” His words die with a frustrated sigh, his left hand closing into a fist before it releases when it doesn’t find the familiar handle of the crutch he can grab tightly onto. Past the clear tell of gritted teeth, he admits, “When we sail back to England, we will be going in blind.”

“You still have time.” You say, but it seems it goes unheard.

“How can I prepare if I can’t…predict him?” He asks, and it isn’t really a question you think he wants an answer to. If he did, all you could offer would be that he would have to fight like the others do, the ones that don’t have his mind that seems to let him get ahead of his enemy’s moves, his eyes that seem to let him foresee his enemy’s plans. But, you don’t say anything, instead resting your chin on his shoulder and letting one of your hands trail down his back. Ivar grits his teeth, and stays silent for a long time. After a while, he turns his head slightly to you, “What would you do?”

“You’re asking me?”

A shrug of the shoulder you’re not resting on, and Ivar offers simply, “Why not?”

“I have never led an army.”

“Your commander did, and he obeyed you.”

You lift your eyebrows, and insist, “He died because of it.”

“I am not planning on doing that,” He clarifies, the beginning of a smile on his lips, “Obeying you, or dying.”

Your eyes narrow at his taunt, and you retort, “Why are you asking me, then?”

“I’m curious.”

“I don’t have any answers. I am not…” You take a breath, and mull over your words before you start again, “One of the things I admired Narses the most far was how he…” A small smile curves at your lips, and you look at the nothingness ahead, somehow able to see clearly in your mind’s eye the cocky smile of the young Strategus as he hooked the spear under his arm and bowed mockingly at you. “He was never caught off guard. He was foolish, and he refused to stick to a plan most of the time, but…with the passing of time I started to think he counted on that, on the lack of a plan. Back in Greece, the battles we won were because of his adaptability, as much as any strategy I could…suggest to him. I insisted on a plan, and he was smart enough to not defy me, s-…”

“I wouldn’t say smart.”

Your lips curve into a smile, and you lift your head off his shoulder to meet his gaze directly. Ivar leans back, falling back on the bed, and you follow, leaning over him as your hand travels up and down his chest.

“What would you say then, love?” You ask, a challenge and something else. You bring yourself closer, “Would you say bewitched?”

You remember being in that small hut in Aneridge, able and willing to forget either of you had names and stories, and daring ask him, are you one to believe Stithulf’s tales that I can bewitch men to their deaths? Blind them and have them follow my every whim?

And, more importantly than that, you remember the way his eyes remained on you, a slow blink as he considered his answer. You remember the tone of his voice that made a shiver run down his spine when he replied, not through magic.

His smile is challenging, mocking, but Ivar shakes his head instead of answering.

“You were speaking of how you won, back in your homeland.”

“He…adapted, a lot. Too often for my liking,” You furrow your nose, and your husband chuckles, his hand warm as it travels up and down the arm you’ve draped over his chest. “My pride kept me from accepting we had to change our tactics, I will admit that. Maybe that arrogance was my downfall.”

Your eyes fall from his, and you almost want to ask, order, don’t let your arrogance be yours.

The words are at the tip of your tongue when the voice of one of Ivar’s guards on the other side of the door startles you.

“Someone is requesting the…the Queen to, uh, meet with them.”

“Is it Rúna’s husband? Is it the baby?” You ask, already scrambling to get out of bed at the mere thought that she is to give birth now. It has been a difficult pregnancy for her, and you’ve given stern orders to her husband to come to you when the time comes for her to deliver.

“No, uh…your mother, my Queen.”

The air is knocked out of you with those words, and you stand unmoving for a few breaths too long. You feel the cold of the floor seeping into your very bones through your bare feet, but you feel rooted to the ground.

A quiet call of your name, and you turn wide eyes to Ivar. He searches your gaze, a strange sort of hesitation in his expression that is probably born out of whatever he sees in yours, and he says your name again.

You blink, swallowing hard.

“Go to her.”

You nod your head, but don’t move for a couple of heartbeats, until you have the cold startle you into movement. Wrapping the robe over your nightdress, you slip into your shoes and step out.

Letting the two guards lead the way to one of the back rooms of the -now deserted- longhouse, you try deciphering if what runs through your veins right now is thrill or dread.

Sieghild stands tall by one of the stone pit fires near that are lined up near the walls, surrounded by seats; her shield not at her back but, as always, close to her. At the sound of your steps, she turns around, the same almost-crooked smile on her face, the familiar face with traces of ink in the shape of the roots of Yggdrasil, the same green eyes of your childhood.

You stumble over your own feet as you run to her, and never before have you felt as time disappeared and you were suddenly a child again as you do then.

“Mḗtēr!”

Sieghild embraces you tightly, with the desperation of having thought you lost forever, the relief at having you back, the anger at your disappearance; strong arms wrapped around you and lifting you a bit off the ground. You breathe a relieved laugh that sounds like a sob, your own arms wrapped as strongly as you can around your mother.

“Little one, you are alright, you are alright.” She whispers, and even if she talks to her own fears and not you, you still nod against her shoulder.

“I thought you were-…”

“I am here, child. The Gods wouldn’t call me to Valhalla while you still need me.”

You look into familiar green eyes and offer a helpless shrug, “I’ll always need you.”

“Then I shall always be here.” She promises, pressing a kiss against your forehead like she did when you were a child.

But you weren’t, your heart bitterly wants to say, words you keep at bay by biting your own tongue.

For now, you close your eyes at the rough touch of Sieghild’s battle-worn hands on the sides of your face, you let her brow press against yours and the familiar scent of iron and the always underlying scent of those fields of barley you would run through with her as a child.

When you step back, you feel the months-old anger come back, you feel the uncertainty and resentment settle over you like a warm cloak, and you meet Sieghild’s eyes, unwavering.

“I would like a word with my mother.” You state, keeping your gaze on her. You watch as our mother watches the people leave the room, watching out of the corner of her eye as the last of the men closes the door behind him.

She turns to you with a smile that is in part mocking and in part proud.

“I always did say you were Fated to rule, did I not?”

Many times she told you that, usually angrily, when what she stubbornly calls your ‘Athenian nobility’ shines through.

Galla spares you a glance out of the corner of her eye, the faintest quirk of a smile on her lips, her words a tease and something else as she quips, “Born with a crown on her head, this one.”

Many others have implied the same, sometimes in praise and often in reprimand.

Ivar meets your eyes, an unwavering edge to his madness, a darkness to the curve of his smile, as he promises, “Don’t lie to me, Priestess. You were made to rule, to command. Don’t pretend otherwise with me.”

You shake your head, “Fate has nothing to do with it.”

“Doesn’t it?” She retorts, but it isn’t a question she expects an answer to. Instead, the shieldmaiden strides to the seats by the dimmest hearth in the room. She always has done that, ever since Eleusis, making sure you aren’t near open flames that make your skin crawl.

You walk to her, hands folded in front of you, and take a seat before her.

“You gave me up. You arranged for me to marry Ivar, and you never told me.”

A deep breath, like she was expecting this, and Sieghild leans back, a hard nod of her head.

“I did,” She offers no other explanation for a few moments, before adding, “I had my reasons.”

“Which are?”

Her eyes narrow as she looks you over, a quirk in her mouth that speaks not of a smile but of something wilder, and Sieghild’s voice is icy when she asks,

“Who do you think you are, to demand anything from me?”

Your answer is unwavering, and you don’t even think twice about the words that are to leave your lips, “Your daughter.”

Sieghild holds your gaze for a few breaths, before looking away with a grunt and the clear tell of gritted teeth. She was expecting something else out of your answer, the years alongside her let you see that in that small gesture.

A twitch in her nose, furrowed for only a moment, and Sieghild offers, voice unusually quiet,

“I told you since you were a child about the path the Gods, yours or maybe mine, had woven for you,” Green eyes pierce into yours, and for a moment you are saying goodbye again, in the outskirts of Aneridge and by the gates of Eleusis. She swallows, and continues, “You ran once, and I lost you, I had to leave you behind and let those damned Christians burn you alive. I couldn’t let you run again.”

“That is why you asked me,” You state, not even a question. The night she left you behind on the edge of that forest plays behind your closed lids with striking vibrance. “You took me there and told me we were at a crossroads, the…the world between worlds. I chose to stay.”

“It was Fate you did so.” She retorts with a sigh.

And that word grates at your ears. It always has, ever since you have had memory.

Your eyes fall shut, and you take a deep breath to remain calm.

“You know, with time passing I had forgotten how much I hate that word leaving your lips,” You grumble, mostly to yourself. Sieghild still chuckles, but it is dimmer than usual. The errant thought that maybe you don’t know what the usual is for your mother anymore crosses your head, but you dismiss it easily enough. Finding your strength, your anger, you meet her gaze and with your head held high you insist, “You cannot hide behind Fate, mother.”

For all the times she has accused you of your own fair share of arrogance, few times she has admitted you take after her in that regard. Now, more than any other time, her own arrogance, her own pride, are apparent in the way she bristles at your words, suddenly sitting straighter.

“I don’t hide, little one. You know that.”

You shake your head, at her resolve, at her unwavering certainties, at her abandonment. Your eyes wide, you lift a hand and point a finger at her, too late realizing that is a gesture you have seen often in the man you married.

“Fate didn’t chain me to Ivar’s side until you made a deal with him!” Your voice thunders at the same time it breaks and you do not care. Your lip curls into a snarl, or maybe something more fragile, something more broken. “You fulfilled what you were told was Fate, because you believed it was inescapable.”

“And you stayed behind to die in Eleusis because you wanted to fight Fate,” She retorts, green eyes blazing. “How is that any different?”

“It was my choice.”

“And it was my choice to send you to Kattegat.”

You hate the way your lower lip trembles, the way sorrow wants to overpower pride, and succeeds.

You furrow your lips, raising your chin as you insist, “You abandoned me.”

“I did what I should have when you were younger. I saved you.”

Your nails dig into your palms, and you stand up. The chair makes a horrible sound against the wooden floor, and you pace away from the table, shaking your head to yourself.

Your mother follows you with a challenge shining in her green gaze.

“You didn’t save me.”

“You are alive, you are safe. I wouldn’t ask for anything more.” She crosses broad arms over her chest, head titled to the side.

You feel your lip curling into a snarl, your hands trembling at your sides as the anger that burns in your blood demands you do something.

Voice thundering, you demand, “I would have!”

“And you would have died for it!” Sieghild barks back, voice rising as well. “You think you would have survived Stithulf if it weren’t for that boy, huh? You think that damn Christian would have kept you alive for much longer?”

You shake your head, feeling like a chastised child under her burning green gaze.

“Ivar isn’t the reason I survived.”

“He kept you safer than I ever could, even if he didn’t realize it, even if you don’t like accepting it, little one,” She retorts, standing and walking closer. “You are arrogant, but you are also smart. You know it is true.”

You shake your head, stepping back.

“You didn’t tell me, you just left me behind in that place, and I-I was alone, and…” Your eyes fall shut and you find yourself almost compulsively twirling your wedding ring as you try finding resolve again. Without opening your eyes, you take a deep breath and ask, “Why come back now?”

“I told you to survive until spring came, I knew we’d be together again after the winter,” She tells you, quietly, almost mournfully. “Even if you hated me, even if you hate me now…what I did, I did for you. To keep you alive, to let you have a future.”

“All my life, I-…” You furrow your lips, consider your words and start again, “You more than anyone knows how important it is for me to be…free. Free to choose, free to…be. You took that from me, you let Ivar take that from me.”

But Sieghild doesn’t falter, even if her eyes give away more than she would like to admit.

“It is a privilege to be able to live life in the way you have, little one. To never have your beating heart be the only thing that you can count on, that you can call your own. The truth is that there is no reason for freedom without life, not the other way around,” Strong arms crossed over her chest, your mother insists, “Between seeing you in chains and seeing you on a grave, I know which I prefer.”

“Does it matter which I prefer?”

Her silence is enough of an answer, and you sit back down on your chair, twirling your wedding ring on your finger. You notice the way your mother’s eyes travel to the movement, but if she has anything to say about it, she keeps it to herself for now.

“When you love someone, someone that you know will go where you cannot follow once death touches them…” She starts, slowly, deliberately. “Is there anything you wouldn’t do to keep them alive? Keep them with you?”

“I never tried keeping you, or anyone, from your dear Valhalla.”

A quirk of her mouth, humorless and challenging, as she sits back down as well, “I taught you to lie, don’t try it with me.”

“I’m not-…”

“Four years ago, on the outskirts of Circe, you did what you had promised you wouldn’t do. Do you remember, little one?”

You bite your lip to keep it from trembling, as you take in your mother’s pale features, “You could have died.”

“And what glorious death it would have been,” Sieghild retorts, not missing a beat. Her smile is wry, tired, but still irrevocably hers. “Better than whatever awaits me in this bed, that’s for sure.”

“You won’t die here either.”

“I better not,” She warns, closing her eyes. You are worried about the sunken look on her face. Your leg bobs up and down anxiously and you feel your fingers fidgeting as you itch to get to work on making something, anything, that will make it better. “To be robbed of a chance to enter Valhalla because my child is too stubborn t-…”

“Valhalla cannot have you yet!” You snap, blinking past the burning in your eyes when Sieghild opens her eyes to meet your gaze. “Your Gods cannot have you yet, I-I need you with me.”

“Of course I remember.” You retort, gritting your teeth. She has always had this infuriating way of hers of deliberately and obviously guiding you with questions to say what she wants you to, to admit what you refuse to.

“What I did was no different. You dragged me from the battlefield and insisted on delaying the inevitable by tending to my wounds, because you didn’t want to lose me. Even if it cost me what I live and fight for, you want-…”

“You Varangians and your glorious deaths,” You groan, rolling your eyes, “You lived. You lived to fight in another battle and die another day.”

“And you lived to see yourself free once more.”

“It is not the same.”

“Explain why, then.”

That gesture, it is the same as the life that once was all you had known, of her routinely throwing a stick your way, smoothing the ground with her boot and demanding an explanation for the newest battle you had witnessed, or the latest historical one that you had been drawn to.

You sigh, tired beyond what you think you could express with words, “Mother.”

Sieghild considers you for a moment, gaze travelling over your features, taking you in as if a stranger. Maybe you are, in some ways.

She softens after a breath, shoulders lowering as she takes a deep breath.

“I…I had a dream, the Gods showed me that when the ground was softened, when the earth thawed, you’d be returned to me. So, I was certain I would find you once spring came.”

There’s a part of you that tries thinking of it all and tries making all the pieces make something that makes sense, and that part whispers that the Gods let Sieghild see that spring would see you returned to her because it was when spring came that you would make your choice, that you would be free to leave Ivar. That part of you has a heart that beats along the cadence of all the prophecies and half-coherent visions that have plagued you and others, that part of you feels like blind eyes looking directly into yours and bloodstained lips whispering you will not find your belonging amongst flowers.

But that part of you is trying to accept a world where somehow what has happened, what you have lost and what you have suffered, has a reason. It cannot have a reason, it cannot be inevitable.

So, you search your mother’s gaze and ask,

“Why spring?”

“We can set sail away from here now that the season allows it,” She replies easily, and you lean back in your seat, irrationally stunned. Sieghild raises her brows, “Have you already forgotten all that was keeping you here was the harshness of winter?” Your eyes lower from hers, and Sieghild takes a breath, “Ah, but it isn’t the season what keeps you here now.”

You shrug, reaching for the bread and picking out a piece with your fingers as you mumble, “You were the one to tell me all my life that my Fate lied in Kattegat.”

“Many would say your Fate is to fight for Greece.”

You lift your gaze to hers, head tilted to the side.

“My Fate would be to rule over it,” You correct her, and the lines on your mother’s face deepen when she smiles. “But I have no interest in doing so.”

Sieghild looks you over, green eyes shining with something you could swear looks like pride. Eventually she leans back, an arm stretched over the back of her seat and her head tilted to the side.

“You will be staying in Kattegat then?”

You bring the piece of bread to your mouth, offering another shrug, “It is my home.”

“Kattegat is?” She drawls out the words, lifting her brows. Your eyes narrow as you are put on the spot, and there is no hiding the bite in your tone when you ask,

“Why do you ask questions you know the answer to?”

Your mother shrugs, “It entertains me.”

There’s a sigh making its way past your lips before you can stop it, an exasperated but fond one. In the look you and Sieghild share there are more words than either of you would ever dare to say aloud, and you lean back in your seat, picking another piece of the bread.

“Where were you all this time?”

“With King Angantyr of the Black Danes, mostly,” She chuckles to herself, “All the way in England they speak of Ivar the Boneless’ witch, you know.”

“As long as men have tongues to speak, they will speak lies,” You offer around a shrug, words that were of someone you met along the Silk Roads, and though you do not remember their face, you remember their wisdom, and you know your mother does too. Still, she narrows her eyes, almost suspicious, and you clarify, “I am no witch, mother.”

“But you are his.” She sentences.

“Only because he is mine as well.”

Her eyes shine with a glint you haven’t seen in years when she smiles, and you find yourself smiling back, heart lighter.

After a breath, your mother leans forward and quietly asks, “Do you trust him?”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“Of course I do.”

The shieldmaiden nods once, and takes a deep breath, “We have matters of war to discuss then, you and I. Your husband too.”

You frown, and when she stands up you do the same. Your mother simply starts walking, long strides towards the front of the longhouse. You scramble to catch up, asking questions as you go,

“What? Why?”

“I had a plan, you see. I didn’t come to Kattegat now on a whim.”

“You are hiding something.”

“Not for long. I had counted on using this…information to our advantage if you were to decide to leave, but…” She looks at you out of the corner of her eye, “Plans change, little one.”

____ ____ ____

Thank you for reading, hope you liked it!

I have a lot of fun writing Sieghild, she’s like the Priestess without the snobbiness lol. Main example of how much fun I have writing her being the length of this chapter lol, sorry. But yeah, they had (have) a lot of things to work through, though they are, much like the Reader and Freydis, on very different world perceptions when it comes to the issues they’ve discussed, so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Taglist: @youbloodymadgenius @heavenly1927​ @toe-vind-ek-jou @xbellaxcarolinax​ @angelofthorr​ @samsationalwilson​ @peachyboneless @1950schick​ @punkrocknpearls @ietss​ @itsmysticalmystery​ @revolution-starter​ @the-a-word-2214​  @fae-sedai​  @crazybunnyladysworld​    @funmadnessandbadassvikings @stupiddarkkside​ @aprilivar​ @msrawog  

[the-six-espada]

TBB Spoilers below. A rant (please don’t pay me any mind, I might delete this :d)

I’ve been fighting the urge to write about this but I decided what the hell. Please note that I’m aware I am discussing the emotions and narrative of a fake show, with a fake universe and fake characters – I’m just dumping some thoughts I’ve had in the past few days.

I’m not aiming to change anyone’s opinion here – I’m well aware there are a lot of people who don’t like Crosshair as they’ve made it painfully aware in the past weeks, however I do want to calmly explain a few things and if you’re interested in reading them be my guest.

I can understand that a lot of people might not entirely comprehend the emotions I will try to explain party because they perhaps never experienced them and partly because I probably won’t word them accurately enough but I will do the best I can.

The contents of the last episode of the Season 1 Bad Batch series have left me a little broken. I’m really trying to not get too emotional but the contents of this series have triggered some emotional trauma I’ve buried (as I’m sure it did for a lot of people, but I will be speaking only for myself here) – I’m not blaming the show in any way. I love the show. It’s because of its good writing and setting that this hurts so much.

Crosshair being left again is really upsetting to me for a lot of reasons. The gaping distance created by the Bad Batch and Crosshair is so hurtful. Earlier on in the show, after seeing the complete disregard for their brother, I thought that perhaps there is part of this narrative that we are missing. Maybe the relationship between them wasn’t as good as we thought. Maybe at some point during their upbringing or the numerous missions they’ve been on together these guys figured out they hate their brother. Or at least don’t care for him. Which would be enough of a reason for them to completely not hesitate to continue their lives without him. However what I cannot understand is – how can you leave him stranded on a platform on a planet that is just water, where the only building on that planet has been blown up minutes prior, without his weapon and backpack.

They practically left him for dead.

You don’t care about your brother and you don’t want him to be on your team? Fine. You can’t get past your differences and work together or have a healthy conversation about your differences in opinions? Understandable. But please explain to me how leaving him with no weapon on a absolutely deserted planet makes any sense? Even if the Empire does come back to look for him (which in my opinion is highly unlikely) what do you think they will do to him? The only Empirial teammate he had and was left alive saw him and snitched on him to Rampart. They gave the order to kill him alongside the other clones. They most likely will either kill him or experiment on him. Hunter knows this. He might not be certain exactly what’s going to happen but he for a fact knows the Empire will discard him - he said so to Crosshair on two occasions.

So now in my opinion is just a question of basic human decency to at least drop him somewhere - on another planet at least I don’t know.

For the people who think Crosshair was too rude to his brothers in the last episode and was making too snarky replies. First, it’s not news that Crosshair in general does that - since day one he has been sarcastic and borderline “rude”. Whether or not his brothers found that annoying or not is up to debate but at least in my opinion they didn’t seem too bothered by it. Ask anyone with siblings - bickering is part of the family relationship. Second, I don’t know if you ever encountered someone after a dramatic breakup (doesn’t matter if it’s a friendship or a romantic relationship) but his behavior was presented very accurately. Please try to imagine getting into a fight with someone you had years of build relationship, people who you deeply cared for and trusted, people you probably loved. You get into a fight, you fall out and don’t hear each other for some time. Now you have a lot of time for these emotions to brew inside you - you will mainly feel sadness. Why did this happen? Why are they not reaching out? They know you are in pain so why aren’t they trying to remedy things? Queue all of the moments you had together, all the good memories, all the emotions you’ve shared and how much you devoted yourself to them. Was it all fake? Did they feel the same? Then comes anger. How could they? How could you? Why did you let yourself be this vulnerable with someone? Why are they not trying to communicate with you? Don’t they hurt the same as you? This segment by the way opens up a whole other door of trust issues and thoughts that lead you to conclusions to never let yourself be this vulnerable with others or have any kind of deep emotions for anyone else but we are not going to tackle that. (Not to mention that until that point Crosshair was already presented as a very closed off character and probably the only people he truly felt comfortable with were his brothers but never mind that now.) So you are angry and sad. Unfortunately even with all that hurt you don’t stop loving this person/these people because it just doesn’t work like that. In fact it is so painful because you love them. Time passes and you finally meet and the first thing that it’s itching at your tongue is to tell them they have hurt you. Which Crosshair did - he explained they’ve left him even though they were brothers and in a way betrayed him. Then comes the desire to inflict pain back - it’s completely irrational because a part of you wants to patch things up but another just wants to get payback. To say something, anything, to hurt them. It’s erratic, childish - exactly what we can see from Crosshair in this last episode. He takes every opportunity to bite back. And honestly I can’t blame him. That’s a totally normal response. I would like to point out that in a way the batch does that too - they are not warm to him in any way either, which again is valid since from their point of view they also probably feel betrayed by him. Also, the fact that he doesn’t feel the need to physically harm them (even though as he said it would have been totally justifiable from his point of view) but just make a few snarky remarks? Yeah, I would let that slide.

Honorable mention to the fact that no one apologized .. for anything. Even a casual “sorry, we left you” or “sorry, we didn’t bother to come looking for you” - nothing. I think at this point no one was expecting for the batch to start dramatically confessing their feelings but just a plain apology would have been a great start. It just confuses me so much. Hunter said to Omega “I’m angry at myself. We don’t leave our own behind.” and yet couldn’t express a simple gesture of apology to him? It makes no sense to me. I know that not everyone is emotional. Not everyone can have or express strong feelings for another human being in a relationship. But the complete lack of interest from the batch since day 1 about what is happening with their brother is baffling to me.

I’m gonna say this once and there are probably going to be people out there who don’t get it and that’s fine but: If you deeply care about someone and love them you would want them to come back. Against all odds. In spite of what they say. You would dare do the impossible just for the off chance something, anything, works and you get to have them back.

The Batch went back to save Hunter. On Kamino. In a situation where, honestly, they were going to die if it wasn’t for Crosshairs decision to give them a chance. They were walking in outnumbered against a person who knew and could predict their every move. And they knew that but they had to try. No such thing at any point was shown for Crosshair. They didn’t even try to get to him at the end. The only one who did was Omega. And I’m willing to believe that if Hunter or whoever stepped in after her conversations with him he was perhaps going to crack but.. no one even tried.

I don’t want to seem like I hate the show or the other characters. Words cannot express how good this show is and how accurately it’s written (in my opinion) but it’s just hurtful. And I believe a lot of us Crosshair fans are hurt because we can empathize. I’m not living under the illusion that my opinion of Crosshair is going to change anyone else’s - this is not what I’m trying to do. This is my post, take it or leave it. I just had thoughts and wanted to lay them out. If you read through all of this, thank you for giving it your time.

[imagine-that]

White horse

Pairing: Loki x reader

Warnings: maybe angst? Kind of mentions of kidnapping ig?

AN: this one may or may not have more than one part coming 🤫🤭😉 also it’s too the song White Horse by Taylor Swift and I’ve linked it so you can listen while you read or after or before if you’d like!

——————————————————————————

Say you’re sorry, that face of an Angel

Comes out just when you need it to

“Loki get back here! We aren’t done talking about this!” You cry, chasing after the green cloaked god.

“There is simply nothing to talk about. You think leaving is a good idea, I think it is not. Therefore, you are forbidden to leave.” He says bitterly, storming away, back towards the palace.

“Oh for the love of Odin- you’re being ridiculous! You cannot forbid me from doing anything Loki! I am my own person, or am I not now my love?” You ask angrily, picking up your pace to even try and match his.

“Stop! Stop calling me that, stop trying to make it better. I am no longer your love y/n, I am no longer your anything it would seem. But no need to worry, I will be sure to think the same of you and nothing more.” He says coldly, the smirk you so despised playing on his lips.

You groan, smacking his arm. “Would you just listen to me for five minutes?! I-I don’t want to lose you Loki. But I have to get away from here, I don’t want to be contained to only this one place all my life, it’s not enough for me!” You cry, taking his cold, bony hand in your own and holding it tight. “I want to be with you, please.” You beg, your eyes filling with tears.

“Y/n, if Asgard isn’t enough for you, surely I am not either.” He says coldly.

“That’s not true! Do you know how long it took me to finally make this decision for myself? To decide leaving is what’s best?” You ask and he says nothing. “I cried for days at the thought of leaving you. I paced all the time. You’re not the only one having trouble with this choice. Loki- you’re my everything. I can’t bear the thought of losing you forever.” You promise him, squeezing his hand reassuringly.

As I paced back and forth all this time

Cause I honestly believed in you

“Then do not leave. Stay with me, become my princess. We can spend our days by the lake and reading books from the royal library.” Loki argues, taking his other hand and wrapping it around yours.

Suddenly he’s getting down on a knee, pulling out a ring box. You shake your head rapidly, not believing what you’re watching.

“Y/n, you are my princess, my soulmate and my other half. This kingdom would be unbearable without you, it would be the most boring place in the galaxy. I see colors brighter, feel things more clearly and feel like a better man than I am when you are around me. Please, do me the greatest of honors and marry me.” He gives his little speech, smiling up at you with the look of lust and love in his eyes.

“No.” You breathe, staring down at him.

“W-what?” Loki asks, a frown etched on his face.

“I said no! You cannot... guilt trip me into staying here, nor can you just propose to me to prove a point or to distract me for my choices. You... you can’t just tie me down like this. I’m not going to give up on my hopes, nor on my dreams to suit you.” You scoff, stepping back from him.

“You have to! You have to because I say so and as I am crowned prince of Asgard, you must obey!” He cries angrily, getting up off the ground quickly and moving closer to you.

You stare at him with pure disgust and disbelief in your eyes. “You may be the crowned prince but you cannot force me to obey you by any means!” You shout back in his face, breathing heavy with fury. “If you insist I must then you’ll have to throw me in the dungeons because I’d rather rot down there for the rest of my life than marry the man I’m seeing before me right now!” You snark again, tears burning your eyes.

His face contorts into a sickly grin, one that sends horrible goosebumps up your spine.

Holdin’ on, the days drag on

Stupid girl, I should’ve know, I should’ve known

“You truly mean that, do you? You would rather die without a smidge of dignity, stripped down to nothing but a caged animal in the deepest part of Asgard’s darkest, coldest dungeons than marry your beloved?” He asks, inching closer to you.

“You are not my beloved. It would seem you have killed whatever’s left of him.” You growl coldly, turning your back to him.

He laughs a cold and hollow laugh. “You do not get to walk away from me!” He bellows and you remember exactly where his temper came from.

“Yes I do and I will.” You say calmly, your stubborn nature kicking in.

“Trust you to act like a coward in a time of need for bravery.” He sneers.

You swerve back around, snapping your head in his direction.

“Continuing this useless argument with you has nothing to do with bravery Loki. It’s stupidity. And you are being irrational. I can’t talk to you like this. So yes, I’m walking away. But believe me when I say that that is the brave choice in this situation.” You explain, staring straight into his steely grey eyes.

“You said you loved me! You said we were meant to be! You said we were soulmates the universe and the gods decided were meant for each other and only each other. Did you mean one word of it?” He asks, a sad and desperate smile on his lips.

“I- of course I did Loki. I meant every word of what I’ve said to you.” You promise, tears streaming down your own features. His slender and delicate fingers gently reach up, brushing them away with his thumb, his fingers lingering on your cheek.

“Then why are you insisting on leaving me?” He asks, his voice more broken than you’d ever thought possible.

“I don’t belong here Loki. I’m destined for other things and meant to be or not, I cannot truly commit myself to being your princess, to being your forever if it means not exploring that destiny.” You say softly, resting your forehead on his chest longingly.

It’s taking all of your strength to fight the urge to wrap your arms tightly around him and agree to what he’s asking just to see his smile return but you manage.

You know this relationship could never be healthy if you couldn’t commit to it with all of your heart and soul. And if it couldn’t be healthy, you didn’t want to put either of you through that. You couldn’t handle that pain.

That I’m not a princess, this ain’t a fairytale

I’m not the one you’ll sweep off her feet, lead her up the stairwell

“Loki. You have to let me go my own way.” You sigh, glancing up at him.

He says nothing, turning himself away from you.

“I cannot do that. I literally cannot bring myself to do that. Either you stay or I am merely nothing to you. That is how it will be.” He states after taking a shaky breath.

“Loki you can’t possibly expect me to make that decision!” You cry out, mouth agape in shock.

“It is the decision that must be made. If I mean anything to you at all, you would stay and rule by my side.” He says.

“It isn’t that simple Loki! I can’t just choose you because I love you.” You groan, throwing your hands up in frustration.

“And why not? Because it is easier to run away from me, run from what it is we have than to be with me? I am fully aware of that fact y/n, it has burdened me all my life!” He bursts out, his eyes glazed over with unshed tears.

“No! You do not get to play the left as a baby card right now Loki because you know it is not like that at all! You know I harbour nothing but love for you! It is not a simple choice I’m making right now!” You argue, shaking your head.

“What did you expect me to say exactly y/n? I am not going to stand here and blatantly lie to your face and say I agree with your choice in departure nor that I am ok with it!” He shouts louder. “I refuse to let you leave! I refuse it, ok? You cannot leave Asgard, I will forbid Heimdall from allowing you to go if that is what I must do but you will not leave me like this!” He snaps, his face one of rage and possessiveness as he makes his way to the doorway and out towards the bridge to the gate to the realms.

“You can’t do that to me!” You cry, racing after him to stop him. You scramble to get in front of him, laying your palms against his chest to keep him from moving any further.

“Remove yourself from my path darling.” He warns, staring you down. Still, you remain in your spot.

“Not a chance dearest.” You growl back mockingly.

This ain’t Hollywood, this is a small town

I was a dreamer before you went and let me down

He picks you up carefully by the arms, moving you behind him effortlessly.

“If you do this I will never forgive you! I will not only leave you, I will never speak to you again. Not even if you hold one of your swords to my throat to force the words out yourself.” You shout after him, your voice void of any emotions other than pure, white, hot rage.

He pauses in the middle of the bifrost, looking at you, testing the truth behind your words as he analyzes your stance.

He meets your eyes, your big y/e/c showcasing every bit of vulnerability within you in that moment for him to see. He had a knack for that it seemed, seeing everything about you no matter how much you tried to hide it.

He knew you like the back of his hand. Normally, you felt safe and protected with that.

Now you just felt hatred for the eyes baring into your soul.

“You will forgive me someday. I am sure of it.” He says quietly, smiling softly at you.

He leaves you there on the bridge, falling to your knees with a small sob.

Deep down you knew he was just scared. Scared you would somehow be hurt or taken or used as a weapon of some sort and he wouldn’t be there to come to your rescue.

But that didn’t matter. You didn’t want your knight in shining armour. You only wanted to be free.

Now it’s too late for you and your white horse

To come around

————————————————————

A few nights later...

You couldn’t take it anymore. You had paced back and forth in your room, biting down your nails out of stress and anger and the need to concentrate. Your hair was a mess, you refused to change into any of the clothes you were given, staying stubbornly in your outfit from the few nights ago instead.

Since your meltdown on the Bifrost, Loki had brought you back to the palace, stroked your hair as he tried to talk you down, calm you. It had worked, much to your dismay. You’d woken up in a foreign room and upon an attempt to leave, you found that you were being kept there.

Loki was treating you like a prisoner. He was being true to the Midgardian fairytale Rapunzel he’d once read to you in the gardens, you’d thought to yourself the first day.

“Loki, let me out of here!” You screamed desperately that day, pounding on the door until your fists ached. Crying and shrieking in hopes someone would help you.

He again, came and talked you down, holding you as you sobbed. You were a wreck, you couldn’t comprehend how your sweet, kind eyed Loki had become this monster who kept you like a toy or trophy rather than his equal, his true love.

Somehow though, you believed he was in there, crying to get out and be the one to hold you in his arms and let you go. You imagined staring into his eyes, kissing him, promising you’d be there for him no matter how far you were. It was driving you crazy, trying to flip between the Loki you’d known all this time and the one you were with now.

Maybe I was naive,

Got lost in your eyes

You’d managed to calm yourself most of the time, you’d managed to talk him out of the crazy idea of keeping you under lock and key. Even this new Loki seemed to realize it was too much, too inhuman and cruel. He apologized for having done it in the first place and you merely nodded, staying true to your promise to him. You weren’t speaking to him anytime soon, if at all.

You instead stayed in his room, staying by his side when he wasn’t taking care of his duties.

You knew he was wrong. You knew he was being awful and possessive and downright toxic but still, you couldn’t imagine not being with him. You couldn’t imagine it but you knew it was a terrible idea to willingly stay. It wasn’t what was right for you.

You stayed in bed most of the day, trying not to feel the ache for his touch in your chest the way you were now. And when you weren’t, you were standing on the balcony, watching out at Asgard. You may not love living there but you still believed it was beautiful regardless.

That was how Loki found you that evening, in a robe on the balcony, staring down at the city.

“It is beautiful with the sunset is it not?” He says calmly from the doorway, leaning against the doorframe.

You nod a bit, not bothering to turn around to face him.

You hear him moving closer but you pay no attention, crossing your arms over your chest.

“You are truly not going to talk to me?” He asks with a sigh.

You shake your head, resting your chin in your palm as you watched the sky become as golden as the palace itself as the sunset.

He sighs, running a hand through his hair from what you can see in the corner of your eyes.

You were taking your time, balancing your options on the invisible scale in your mind. You wanted to be held by him and trust him again but you couldn’t bring yourself to let him have it all. Not after what he’d done. You silently decided that letting him struggle, torturing him with your silence was your best play.

And never really had a chance

My mistake, I didn’t know to be in love

You had to fight to have the upper hand

Your long term plan for yourself was yet to be determined. Loki’s kindness and love for you was blinding you, making it impossible to concentrate on your thoughts, much less make them coherent.

You brush past him, ignoring his begging gaze as you go into the bathroom and shut the door behind you, getting in the shower. You let the water run down your hair, getting it wet while your mind starts to clear up a bit and you finally know exactly what you have to do for your sake.

You finish, getting redressed before going back into the room, ignoring the princes longing eyes as you climb into the bed, facing away from him.

“Alright, that is enough already y/n.” He sighs, pulling the blankets off of you. You jump up in shock, staring at him blankly. “I know you are mad at me however I only did this for us, my love!” He insists.

You scoff, abandoning your former decision completely. “You did absolutely NOTHING for us here Loki. You did this for you. You did this because you’re scared.” You argue back, your days of pent up anger at him thankful for a release.

“I did not! I did it to protect you, to keep us from falling apart!” He shouts.

“Please! Loki I am begging you to at least admit to yourself that you did none of this for my protection!” You cry, staring him right in the eye.

His breathing is heavy and jagged, he’s panicking, this much you knew. “I-I would never do anything regarding you for my own selfish gain.” He says calmly.

“But you did Loki. You did everything to do with this for YOUR gain.” You sob, tears covering your cheeks.

“I-I love you Loki. I truly, painfully do. But I cannot be with anyone who would regard me as some sort of trophy. I will not do it.” You continue, your lip trembling as you speak.

“I never- I never meant for it to get this far... I merely wanted to keep the one thing I’ve truly loved in my life safe. I wanted us to spend forever together, side by side.” He says, his voice so low and quiet you have to strain to hear it properly.

“I-I know.” You stammer, gulping in a breath between tearful gasps. And you did know. He was your other half, there was no way you didn’t think of the future with him in the same way he did. You just didn’t always treat it the same.

I had so many dreams

About you and me

“Please- please forgive me darling. I cannot apologize enough for the chaos and- and the harm and trauma I put you through these past few days. I was no better than my father himself. I was truly a monster.” He says, his eyes once again filled with unshed tears.

You nod lightly. “Okay.” You say quietly, meeting his eyes.

“W-what?” He asks, his eyes wide in disbelief.

“You heard me. Okay. I forgive you.” You say simply.

“J-just like that?” He says, still not convinced.

You force a laugh, continuing with your small charade. “Yes just like that. You’re my true love, I could never stay mad at you for too long Loki.” You say with a small smile.

He smiles back, pulling you into a hug. “Oh my darling you have no idea how grateful I am for your forgiveness.” He murmurs into your ear. You hesitantly hug back, wrapping your arms tightly around him.

“Always.” You promise quietly. “As much as I love sharing a room with you though Loki, I think I’d like to sleep in my own bed tonight if that’s alright.” You ask, blinking at him innocently.

He nods repeatedly in agreement. “Of course my love. Whatever you wish.” He promises, standing and offering you a hand. You take it in your own, getting to your feet yourself.

The two of you walk around talking for a few hours, making you glad for the fresh air and mind numbingly silent atmosphere. He holds your hand tight, almost as if he’s scared you’ll disappear if he lets go.

“I think I need some sleep my love. I’m feeling kind of tired.” You say with a small yawn. Without hesitation he walks you to your room, making sure you’re good for the night and that everything is to your likings.

“Loki, everything is fine. Go. I’ll be fine.” You groan exhaustedly. He sighs in defeat, standing in the doorway.

“Ok but I will be here in the morning in case you need me. Goodnight my love.” He says, pressing a gentle kiss on your cheek.

You nod with a tiny smile, knowing that by morning you wouldn’t be there for him to help.

Once he’s finally gone, you change into something more comfortable and a little more inconspicuous, grabbing a few of your things and tossing them into a bag. You scramble to write a quick note to your family so they aren’t left entirely in the dark with all that’s happening and you ensure that the door is locked to buy yourself more time.

You climb out the window, gulping as you feel yourself dangling from so high up but making your climb down to the ground floor of the castle.

You felt guilt for leaving Loki so quickly and hastily but you knew it was for the best. You weren’t meant for any kind of fairytale life and staying with him while he was so controlling and had become so dark wasn’t a valid option for you. You wanted to live life, not struggle through it.

And so, you made a small jump to the ground and ran down the shimmering bifrost, running to the gates and off into the night alone.

Happy endings

Now I know...